#& my mom told me if my coughing continues they're most likely gonna take me to the hospital

[djevelbl]

Coñuelamadre con esta peste hijaeputa que me agarré nojoda llevo la maldita semana entera tosiendo pulmón y medio estoy hartaaaa

Y me dió un dolor de cabeza constante como por 2 días????? Hola????? Que te iba a servir helado premium de la heladería kreisel supra nojoda, sabor el cerebro mío que voy a meter en la maquinita de plástico esa si es que se le ocurre joder de nuevo con el tiqui tiqui tiqui de dolerme la cabeza--

[dreamiesdotcom]

february spring | h.rj

genre: hanahaki!au, angst, fluff

trigger warning: character death

summary: You wonder what he'll do when he realizes you no longer cough petals, but flowers in full bloom — that inside you is a full blown spring, within a body that exists in winter.

word count: 2.7k

The thing about flowers is that they suck.

Today again you wake up coughing petals and blood, feeling like wanting to burn the world and then your damned feelings — but no, you think, you'd rather not have life at all if you're not in love with him. You'd choose him again and again if asked.

That's the stupid thing about it. You're so willing to hurt and to be hurt for love that made flowers grow inside you.

Your mom is crying at the foot of your bed, praying for it all to be gone; the petals, the blood, the disease you have to fight because you fell for the wrong person. Your dad turned around to face the wall, tears in his eyes. He wants you to be better. He needs you to be better, and he needs to be strong so you could fight.

It's useless, anyway.

"This could end in three ways," you remember your doctor saying. "Either he loves you back, you take the surgery, or you die."

And you know what that means? That no amount of strength, of happiness, will keep you alive. It's impossible for him to love you back. You're dying. There's flowers growing inside you and you're dying — dying in the most beautiful way; dying of love.

Of stupid love, but you disregard that.

"Mom," you call. "I don't want the surgery."

"You want to die?" She asks with a laugh, "You want to die for a boy who doesn't even know of your love?"

"Y/N," your dad calls, a warning.

"Please don't make me go through it," you close your eyes. "I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget love."

Because it's all I have, you wanted to say. Love is the one thing worth having, and you can't imagine yourself after the surgery; you'll get your emotions removed alongside the flowers in both your lungs and heart. You can't imagine that.

It's not even about him anymore. It's—

"Mom, please," you beg, "I don't... I don't want to live in a world where I wouldn't be able to live and love. I don't want to live not loving you and dad."

Because what is a human without love, emotions? An empty vessel. A withering rose. Something to stare at emptily as slowly, they begin to die.

Tears well in your mother's eyes, shaking her head, repeating the same words again and again — "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him" — but you made up your mind. You're dying, but before that you're gonna live —

you're gonna live, and this time not for him anymore; for yourself. For yourself too.

Even though life with this disease is limited to this hospital, the window and the rooftop, it is life still — this sickness made you cherish all the little things you'll lose when your body loses warmth. On some days you play with the kids, young hearts running around not really understanding their situations.

You put a smile on your face after everytime you throw up — you hide away somewhere no one would see, you hide yourself. You want to live. If you want to live, there's no need to be pitied.

At night, before you need to go to your room, you go to the rooftop and meet with a friend; Huang Renjun, same case. His heart longs for the stars, the moon, and a boy who is and will always be happier with someone else.

Tonight again, you stargaze.

"Imagine what we'll be if we weren't like this," he wonders out loud, "You'd still be annoying."

You kick his foot lightly, making him laugh, "See? You're sick and annoying. If you weren't sick, you'd be even more annoying!"

You turn to face him, and a fond smile is on his face, "You'd be beautiful still, even more without the tiredness in your eyes."

"And you'd still be handsome, Renjun," you find yourself saying, "You'd still love books and poetry, and stars..."

"But your smile wouldn't be so sad," he continues, pointing to Sirius, tracing the entire constellation as if the stars are right before his fingertips. "Your smile would be open and honest, not just something to comfort me."

You smile wistfully. He rolls around to pin you down, his hands on your wrists, a smile of his own on his face. It's something silly, kind of cheeky — typical Renjun.

"You're my only friend, Y/N," he confesses. "And I hate him. I hate the boy who made you sick."

Tears start to fall from his eyes, leaving him shaking. His arms still pin you to the ground, his tears falling on your face. He sobs. He sobs and sobs and my god, he still looks beautiful — Sirius rests on the space where his neck and shoulders meet. Galaxies are in his eyes.

He looked beautiful, so beautiful that you didn't have the heart to tell him that it's him. There's no other boy but him.

###

I wonder when he'll notice...

February cold engulfs you in its hold, making you shiver. Renjun walks beside you. It's a silent trip to the rooftop, snow falling in beautiful flakes. He takes notice in your silence.

I wonder when he'll ask if I love him...

"Are you okay?" Renjun asks, shoulder brushing against yours.

You smile at him, "I'm fine. I'm just a little cold."

Time is running out...

"Renjun," you call out his name, "Do you think you could ever fall in love with me?"

He looks at you as if you said something absurd. He laughed, he laughed until he coughed blood and petals — you stop in panic, rubbing his back.

"I think the cold is doing us no good," you say. "Let's head inside."

Was it really that impossible for you to fall in love with me?

"No, no, I'm fine." He wipes the blood off his lips, "See?"

Scary as it seems, the petals have become usual visitors for patient with Hanahaki. It doesn't even bother Renjun anymore at this point.

He'll have the surgery and get better — just a little more, he said, let me feel this love for a little more, because after the surgery I know I never will love again.

The petals don't shake him anymore. There's a cure, after all. A cure you keep denying yourself.

"Alright, let's go."

You resume walking, looking straight ahead. The sun is setting as a white sunset.

You wonder what he'll do when he realizes you no longer cough petals, but flowers in full bloom — that inside you is a full blown spring, within a body that exists in winter.

###

"Happy Birthday to you~ happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, happy birthday..."

You look at Renjun's room, meeting gazes with Lee Jeno. You smile and look away.

Renjun has told you the story of three best friends.

Jaemin and Jeno are his regular visitors. Whenever they come, there's a spark in Renjun's eyes — the glint of sadness, the look of yearning for love like theirs. You know. You pass by his door everytime.

You know, too, that he's still in love with Na Jaemin.

Whenever they come by, they bring him flowers — you laugh, because Renjun has enough of those blooming inside him. They bring him food to eat, bring him gifts, but there's no love for him in that space. Jaemin and Jeno's love are solely for each other, and Renjun wants that selfishness too; he wants Jaemin's love all to himself. It's what planted those seeds.

Whenever they come, Renjun wallows in envy and self pity and sadness, sadness because it breaks his heart that seeing them both so happy hurts him. Whenever they come, you battle yourself to not yell at them and make them leave and tell them they're not of any help, not helping him feel better — Renjun's life is just as limited as yours. He has counted seconds and all they do is make him realize what a fool he was to fall for someone he'll never have.

Whenever they leave, they leave a hole in his heart — it only grows bigger and bigger with every visit, with every goodbye. Renjun must be a fool.

But he'll have it, the surgery. He wants to live that much, that even though it will be impossible for him to feel love, he'll still search for happiness.

And that's how you know it.

You're dying.

In silence, you break down and whisper your greetings: Happy birthday, Renjun.

###

Renjun sits across you, holding the flowers Na Jaemin has given him. He plucks them once — he loves me. The sun is hidden away by the clouds, and his gaze that once were on you flutters across the room, back to where Jaemin stands. He plucks another petal — he loves me not.

Jaemin looks back to your direction, and waves. You're sure it made Renjun's heart flutter.

"You're the infamous Y/N," Jaemin grins. "I hope we can be good friends."

"Before I die, that is," you joke, earning a smack from Renjun. The stem of the flower hits the back of your head.

He loves me.

"Jaemin, where's Jeno?" Renjun asks, curious. There's no sight of honey haired boy and it's a strange sight, but you know deep inside he is pleased.

He loves me not.

"He's busy today."

"As he is every day?"

"C'mon, Renjun," Jaemin laughs. "It's not like he never gives me time."

Renjun shakes his head anyway. He releases a big sigh, calming himself down — deep inside he knows he can love Jaemin better. A pained look flashes in your eyes.

Renjun taps your thigh in concern.

He loves me.

"I need to go, 'jun," Jaemin says, taking his belongings with him. He runs straight to the door, but before that he turns around and waves.

When Jaemin leaves the room, Renjun looks like he just fell in love. Again.

A bitter smile draws on your face.

He loves me not.

###

The day of Renjun's surgery came quicker than expected. The explanation was simple; he can never feel love again, but he will survive. He will be alive and that's what matters.

It's a sad thought, living without love. But Renjun would rather not love than not live at all.

"It's tomorrow," he said. "You should take care."

You don't meet his gaze.

"I'm tired, Renjun," you whisper, clutching his shirt to pull him impossibly closer.

A smile draws on his face, a beautiful sight to look at.

He asks, "Tired of what?"

And you've been tired of a lot of things. You tried not being so, but you can't help but fail miserably — lately everything's just been too much. Most of them, though; thoughts like this, like the truth that spills from your mouth.

"Of the flowers growing inside me," you say wistfully, "I'm tired of it and I hate it. I hate it so much."

"Y/N..."

"And I'm tired of you too, of you looking at me with those eyes," you turn to face Renjun who sits with his head hung low. You let a chuckle escape your lips, "Those eyes that look at me as if you could love me had you not met Jaemin."

Renjun couldn't say a word.

You feel yourself withering away as more flowers bloom inside you.

###

Renjun left right after he recovered from the surgery, the nurses said. You stay in your bed all those time, not bidding him goodbye at all. You throw up more flowers than usual, more blood.

All the promises you made about living life before you die is gone. All you can think about is how difficult it is to breathe, how hard it is to live.

"Mom," you call, hoping for ease, "I want to give up."

But she smiles with tears in her eyes, she smiles. You see, she had the most beautiful smile in the world. Her eyes are brimming with unshed tears and her lips stretched in a pitiful expression, "No, darling," she begs. "Stay awake. Stay awake for me."

You smile back.

"It hurts to breathe."

"It will be okay," at least she prays. "It's gonna be okay. Go through with the surgery."

You shake your head, declining still. Time is running out. Your father hugs you tight, the first time in years, a kiss pressed on your temple. Your mother holds your hand.

I don't want to, you repeat again and again.

Your father holds your hand — "We'll do what you want."

And there's a protest at the tip of your mother's tongue, but it melts away at the sight of tears falling from your eyes.

"Okay, sweetie," she says. "We'll do what you want."

Your doctor comes in a hurry minutes after. He's panting, a red flush on his face — he seems mad. "How long has it been?"

"Doctor..."

"You didn't tell us you were coughing out whole flowers."

Your mother's cries start to get louder. Full flowers meant the last stage: the closest to death. At this point it's a game between life and death and the dangers in between. You smile.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, "But I'm not going through the surgery, doctor."

They look at you with eyes of pity, saddened that it has come to this. Your doctor nods. Your mother shakes in your father's hold. You laugh, "Why are you all crying?"

"Stupid child," your mother says. "Stupid Y/N."

You laugh harder, tears falling from your eyes. "I love you, mom," you say. "Can you hold my hand tighter? I'm scared."

From outside your door, Renjun clamps his hand over his mouth; he feels like throwing up. He originally planned to say one last goodbye, but instead, he gets this... this. Whatever the hell this mess is.

You're dying, all because you're in love with him.

All because he couldn't love you back.

###

The time comes quicker than expected.

You look at your body, watching from your soul — this must be what it is like to be have your soul wandering. You breathe in sharply, breathe out. You look at all the tubes connected to your body.

You go through the wall, moving to hug your parents. Your mother must've felt you, for her sobs grew louder and she called your name.

Suddenly, someone storms in.

"Doctor, it seems like you have an emergency patient," the nurse intervenes.

"Who's the patient?"

"Huang Renjun."

Your feel your heart drop — who knew you could still feel such things? But Renjun, didn't he...

"Renjun? Didn't he have a successful surgery?"

"Yes," the nurse looks down in shame, "But it seems there's remains of flowers in his lungs. He's now coughing out flowers in full-bloom."

The doctor rushes out of the room, saying excuses to your parents. You watch your own body breathe its last breath.

The nurse looks down, "Y/L/N Y/N, time of death, 10:48 a.m."

You wander around the hospital, going to where your feet take you. You soon find yourself in the emergency room, watching Renjun almost pass out from coughing flowers.

"Renjun," you call — the ghost of you, your soul. The one Renjun sees.

He looks in panic, knowing why he's seeing you; he's ready to die. What he's not ready for is to see you as a soul, dead and eternally young.

He blinks once, twice, hoping you don't disappear. It's not all truthful words, but he says it — "I love you."

Outside the room, Renjun's parents wonder to themselves — who is he talking to? What is he mumbling? His parents can't help but cry, worried at every flutter of his eyes.

"They say... when people are almost dying, their closest family visit them to take them to paradise." Jaemin says with a bitter smile, "I heard... Y/N passed. He might be seeing her."

A slap sounds in the room.

"My son is not dying!" Renjun's mother says. Jaemin nods, tears falling from his eyes.

"Are you scared?" you ask, head tilted, hands brushing strands of his hair away from his face.

"Yes," Renjun confesses.

"I'll hold your hand."

"Until it's over?"

You smile, "You're one of my greatest friend, after all."

Renjun never expected to die. Then, at the same time, he never expected the tiny sliver of love he feels for you — love for a friend, for a dear one. Renjun found a real best friend within you.

So, he holds your hands and comes with you.

"Doctor? Doctor, what's happening— my son!" His mother calls as he watches his eyelids close, "Renjun... My little boy..."

One last smile, one last cough of his favorite flower — Renjun is at peace. He closes his eyes and remains his age forever.

"Huang Renjun, time of death, 10:52 a.m."

[bumblesimagines]

The Oldest Pogue

Request: Yes or No

Heads up for most of these Outer Banks fic I'll probably do the mini intro lol they're fun. Btw timelines a lil weird. Takes place in ep 1 but have the party the day after they find the boat and all that. Idk Shoupe's first name so imma just call him Shoupe or dad. Idk what grade everyone is in but imma assume that the Pogues and Sarah (+ Topper) are sophomores/juniors since they're 16

~

"Then there's (Y/N) Shoupe, better known as Mama Pogue or (N/N). We got lucky with (Y/N) since he's the deputy's son. He's the definition of a mom friend, always taking care of us. We'd probably starve to death without his meals. Though we would never admit it, we all had crushes on him when we first met him."

(Y/N) entered the house, glancing at a passed out JJ. He chuckled, shaking his head as John B stepped out of his room.

"Morning, sweetie." (Y/N) greeted playfully, setting down groceries.

"Sorry I couldn't join you guys yesterday." (Y/N) started putting the things away and began making some lunch for the boys. John B shrugged.

"It's fine, you'll make it up to us with food." John B replied with a grin. (Y/N) chuckled, nodding.

"Where'd you go?" (Y/N) asked. John B sat at the table, glancing at JJ.

"Motel.. Found a sunken boat and a key in it so we went to the motel. Had to dodge your dad. He took money from a potential crime scene." John B told him. (Y/N) sighed.

"What do you want me to do? He already says half of our conversations are 'political'. He doesn't like that I'm hanging out with a bunch of idiots." (Y/N) said as Kiara and Pope entered.

"Ouch." Kiara grinned, glancing at JJ as he stirred. "Did you tell him about the gun and money?"

"Gun?"

"I was getting to that, Kie." John B sighed. "JJ took the gun."

"Jesus.. A gun? Underaged with an unregistered gun and no license?" (Y/N) stared at them. "Do you know how much trouble you'll get into?!"

"I tried to tell them, (N/N)." Pope said. (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose, putting the two plates of burgers before approaching the half asleep male.

"JJ, a gun? Really? Of all things?" (Y/N) stared at him. "Huh?" JJ looked at him, drool coming out the side of his mouth. A swift smack to the back of his head woke him up.

"Jesus, what the fuck?" JJ huffed, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "Come eat breakfast, JJ." John B called.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you four?" (Y/N) asked, sighing softly. JJ stood, chuckling.

"Love us." He replied, going to the table and sitting down.

"Please don't play with a gun." (Y/N) looked at him. JJ nodded, raising his hands. "Promise, Mama Pogue."

"Swear on Cheesecake?" (Y/N) cocked a brow.

"Cheesecake?" Kiara furrowed her brows.

"I swear.. I swear on Cheesecake that I won't play with the gun." JJ gave a nod. (Y/N) nodded, crossing his arms.

"Who's Cheescake?" Pope asked. "A fish we caught." JJ replied, mouth full.

"Gross." Kiara cringed, giggling.

"Eat with your mouth closed." (Y/N) called. JJ swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, mom." JJ replied, grinning. (Y/N) shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"How's everyone after Agatha?" Pope asked.

"I mean.. People have been calling the department left and right. The power will probably be out for a while." (Y/N) shrugged.

"Bet those kooks will have power in no time." JJ mumbled, shaking his head.

"Can't believe the one day I don't hang out with you guys, JJ gets a fucking gun." (Y/N) sighed, shaking his head.

"Also! John B and Pope surfed the surge." Kiara said.

"You did what?!"

"Way to snitch on us, Kie." Pope mumbled. Kiara shrugged.

"It's called payback." Kiara replied with a chuckle.

"If it took down a boat, it probably could've taken you along with it." (Y/N) placed his hands on his hips. JJ mimicked him, earning another smack on the head.

"Come on, we're having a party at the boneyard." John B said.

(Y/N) laughed as he won the drinking competition. JJ laughed, high fiving him. Kiara noticed the JJ held onto (Y/N)'s hand for a little longer than needed.

"What would daddy say if he saw you drinking?" JJ asked, getting another cup. The two headed over to John B. (Y/N) laughed.

"What's he gonna do? Ground me? Lock me up for drinking?" (Y/N) questioned. JJ shrugged, grinning as he offered John B a cup but noticed Sarah Cameron and offered it to her instead.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milawaukee beverage?" JJ asked. (Y/N) shot him a look, glancing at Topper.

"No, thanks." Sarah smiled, shaking her head.

"Come on. Is it not fancy enough for you?" JJ asked.

"No, we were just leaving-"

"You know what? I'll take it." Topper cut in. (Y/N) and John B shared a look.

"Let it go, JJ-"

"No, no, I'll have it." Topper cut (Y/N) off.

"That's nice, Topper but I didn't ask you. Now, if you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't. So, Sarah-" Topper knocked the drink out of JJ's hands which in turn made JJ grab him by the shirt.

"JJ!" (Y/N) grabbed him as John B and Pope came in, pushing him away as well.

"Dirty Pogues!" Topper shouted. (Y/N) looked at John B.

"John B, don't you dare-" John B turned around, shoving Topper back. Sarah tried to cut in but Topper punched John B. The fight caught the attention of everyone else. Topper kicked John B while he was on the ground.

"Hey, John B, don't make me down you like your old man, alright?" Topper said.

"This dumb fucking blonde." (Y/N) whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. A fight quickly broke out, the two fighting in the waves and sand as the crowd chanted. (Y/N) watched them, trying to get them to stop.

"Topper, stop!" Sarah shouted, trying to stop her boyfriend from drowning John B. (Y/N) quickly stepped in, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and pulling him back, punching him. John B coughed behind him, head spinning.

"You wanna go, Shoupe?" Topper asked. (Y/N) went to respond but a gun was pressed to the side of Topper's head, the safety clicking.

"JJ-"

"Your move, broski." JJ stared at Topper. Most of the teens on the beach ran while Sarah and the other Pogues tried to get JJ to put the gun away.

"We're good! We're good!" Topper repeated.

"(N/N), Kie, check your psycho friend!" Sarah watched, panicked and worried for her boyfriends life.

"Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!" JJ shouted, shooting two rounds into the air. Pope and Kiara shouted at JJ while (Y/N) quickly rushed to John B's side as he collapsed.

"My dad's gonna kill me." (Y/N) whispered, dragging John B out of the water.

"Help me!" (Y/N) called, getting the others attention. JJ and Pope rushed over, helping (Y/N) carry John B to the van.

"Is he okay?" Kiara asked as she drove.

"Yeah, he's breathing." (Y/N) replied, staring down at the male. John B coughed but didn't open his eyes.

"He might have a killer headache tomorrow but other than that, he should be fine." (Y/N) said.

"I can't believe you were so stupid! Taking the gun out on a kook?!" Pope stared at JJ. The two got into an argument, Kiara jumping in as well.

"Enough! JJ did it to help stop Topper from hurting me and John B. Yes, he could've done it another way and handled it better but at the end of the day, he was trying to help." (Y/N) looked at them.

"You always take his side." Pope mumbled.

"It's cause he loves me." JJ grinned.

"You're my least favourite child." (Y/N) mumbled. JJ chuckled. "Admit it. I'm your favourite." JJ cooed. (Y/N) flipped him off. They got to John B's place, getting him in bed. (Y/N) got on his dirt bike and rode off, heading home.

"Can't wait to hear this lecture." (Y/N) mumbled, parking his bike and heading inside. He entered the kitchen, starting up dinner. (Y/N) made his dad's favourite, hoping it would please him. (Y/N) heard the door open and clothes, his dad entering in uniform.

"Hey, dad." (Y/N) greeted, placing the plates of food down. He sat, shooting his dad a smile.

"Got a call not long ago. Some kid had a gun." Shoupe said, sitting down. (Y/N) hummed.

"Did you find out who it was?" (Y/N) asked. Shoupe shook his head.

"No.. But from eyewitnesses, there was a fight and I heard you were involved." Shoupe said.

"Dad, you know I'm not the violent type." (Y/N) continued to eat. "But I did punch Topper for trying to drown John B." (Y/N) said quickly.

"Thank you for being honest." Shoupe said, sighing deeply. He put his fork down and looked at his son.

"(Y/N).. I don't want these kids to ruin the possibility of you going to culinary school." Shoupe said. (Y/N) sighed, looking away. "And they will if you keep running with them."

"Dad, I'm gonna be a senior next year. I have my whole life ahead. I could enter culinary school whenever I want or feel like it." (Y/N) said. Shoupe sighed and nodded.

"I know.. I just don't want you getting stuck here. I want you to have an early start." Shoupe said. "I'll be accepting of you.. No matter what." Shoupe assured.

"Thanks, dad. Anything new today?" (Y/N) asked. He thought back onto what John B told him.

"Nope." Shoupe shook his head. (Y/N) hummed, nodding. He stood, washing the plates and heading off to bed. He hoped the following days would be better.

[heresathreebee]

Dirty Water

Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x Robyn Banks (Black!OC)

Summary: Robb met a couple of shady characters calling themselves cops. Well it just so happens they are, and they're worse than she first thought.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k words

Rating/Warning(s): +16 Mature | kidnapping, mild torture, tied up, wanna be clear: IRL I do not condone hooking up with a person who kidnapped you or was complicit in kidnapping you, it just don't work out like that in reality

AN: so basically I'm gonna write and post this in whatever order I please, then go back and figure it out later. Since my brain has jumped back on the Pascal bandwagon, it's hard to focus outside of his body of work but I'm still coming back to this story with relative ease.

Just when she'd started to warm up again, a another shower of ice cold mop water was pitched over her head. Robyn sputtered and coughed, trying not to swallow the suds in her mouth or let them see her cry to keep the dirt out of her eyes. From the shadows that danced beyond her eyelids, she could tell the alleged cop who called himself Nick was crouching in front of her. 

"Last chance, sweetheart," the dirty cop said. "Tell me how you know Tony D'Onofrio." 

Fuck. 

Seven years ago, two federal agents walked in on officer Robyn Banks being sentenced to traffic duty. She didn't mind– she was fed up with the secrets her colleagues were forcing her to keep anyways. Maybe stepping down could help her clear her head, maybe give her time to compartmentalize those events and feelings. Only now could she say that the rest of her career was already out of her hands. 

"Those agents on that file? They approached me about D'Onofrio. Said he was my moby dick. Made a big deal about 'justice' and 'law and order' and 'the sanctity of the badge." Robyn spit more mop water onto the floor and continued, "I told them I didn't know what the fuck it had to do with me and they just sorta looked at each other." 

The blond man– Nick called him Z, she thinks– crossed his arms. "Quit jerkin us around, Banks, get to the fucking point." 

Nick held up a hand. "Easy, tiger. I asked for a story and that's what I'm hearing. Keep going, Robbie." 

Robyn scowled on the inside. "They told me he was my father. More like a sperm donor than anything, he probably didn't even know I was alive." 

"Now that is interesting," Nick purred. 

He cut the zip tie binding her arm to the rolly chair and handed her a towelette to wipe her eyes. She dared not reach for the tie on her other arm, lest her captors think she's pulling a move to escape. Instead she dabbed the sweat and mop water that soaked into the skin of her neck and face to pause and think about her next words. 

"That was the basis of the deal. I join their investigation undercover, see if I can get somewhere with my connection, and help them put one of the biggest crime bosses on this side of the coast away for good. In exchange, I get to call the shots, they'd put in a good word with my CO and elevate me to detective status instead of beat cop." 

"Thought you liked being a beat cop," the one in the silk flamingo shirt said. 

"Apparently nobody believes that." 

"So," Nick steepled his fingers beneath his aquiline nose in thought, "your end of the deal wasn't even your idea? How does that work?" 

"Sounds like she got something else out of it," the bald man in the white polo accused. 

Robyn glared at him, but she didn't contradict him. If she wanted to be listened to, she needed to stay calm. Stay calm, stay alive. Go home with the minimal amount of PTSD. 

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" When nobody raised any more objections, she continued. "I agreed to their terms. Next I know, I'm climbing the criminal ladder, dropping bread crumbs about my parentage, two years goes by, yada yada yada, and then bam. I have a meeting with the heir apparent to the Italian mafia. 

"At that meeting I told Tony D'Onofrio he knew my mother and that I knew they had been dating around the time I was born–" 

"Conceived–" 

"Yeah that– he stared at me for so long I forgot how to breathe and then… he… believed me." 

A pin dropped somewhere in the empty parking garage. A dog barked wildly a mile away but could still be heard in the silence that followed. Robyn still couldn't believe he'd bought it either. 

"He just… believed you," Nick said skeptically. 

Robyn could do nothing but shrug. "I never got the details, I couldn't ask my mom about it and Tony never gave me any indication that he knew about me before that meeting. He just asked me what I wanted and did it." 

Nick dragged his eyes over her form, shivering and glistening, and then-- "what did you ask him?" 

Robyn felt her eyes gloss over as she tried to remember what mysterious force compelled her to say the exact right words. "I told him all I wanted was for him to know, to see him with my own eyes and know he was real. I said I didn't need any favors or special treatment. I just needed some closure." 

That was all. And the agents had been fucking furious with her. They had accused her of using them, of being a traitor and a spy for D'Onofrio or a mastermind cat-woman type villain and all manner of other terrible things. They were ready to pull the plug on the whole operation when Tony had offered her a better job. A job where she would come face- to- face with every schmoe on Tony's payroll. 

"Tony offered me a job 'running errands.' Not quite in his inner circle but higher in his ranks than I had any business being," Robyn said. "Most of the people doing these jobs were kids, easy to get around the city undetected and reliable. Now he knew I wasn't a kid but I guess he wanted to see more from me, put his best eyes on me to see if I was legit." 

Nick nodded and stood up (his knees popping like broken branches). He walked over to Murphy in the flamingo shirt and passed a few inaudible words between them. Robyn wasn't skilled in the art of lip reading, and failed to catch anything from Murphy except the word 'pointless.' It rubbed her the wrong way, sending a spark of fear through her that quickly dulled back into the numbness of being helplessly bound to a chair. She needed to finish this soon before she completely cracked. 

Nick returned to her side, chasing some pepto bismol with a flask of what smelled like tequila in it. "That's a very sweet story, Robbie, really it is. But… what I wanna know is why you're not in this file." 

"That's not what you asked me," she griped, then backpedaled into, "I'm trying to tell you why I'm not in the file. But in order to tell you that, I have to tell you what was left out of the file first. I'm getting to the point, I just… there's a lot of shit to sift through." 

Nick nodded like a patient father (yeah, right). "Just the good parts then." 

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "just the good parts..." 

"The good parts, uhm. Well he did learn to trust me. I barely had to do anything just… let him try to kindle a relationship between us. I started calling him dad at his request, nobody bothered me or questioned me after that and I didn't abuse it, expect on the downlow giving info to the feds. He liked that about me– he liked me. We'd talk about my mom and he'd let his guard slip, started taking me to his meetings and asking me to deliver his important paperwork." 

"I let him think I was with him and documented everything I could for six more years." In truth, she had had some doubts. About putting him away and the vacuum of power it would create, about the dichotomy of good versus evil, about her career. In that last year, she had actually warmed to the idea of becoming a detective and getting to do work with her own moral backbone and not someone else's. "We made the arrest January 19th and put him away for a dime." 

Nick leaned so far forward in his chair Rob had to lean back. "This is the part where you wrap it up, sweetcheeks." 

Robyn gulped. "Gomer and Valentine pushed me out. They'd been acting really strange at the end, wearing these shit eating grins and looking at each other, and then they iced me out. Had me fired on the grounds that I was too close to the perp, used a fucking Christmas photo for evidence. There went the Italian mob's heir and seven years of hardwork, and I wouldn't even be mentioned by name in the case file. No testimony, no credit, just a dishonorable discharge and dumped on my ass in the streets." 

"Wow." Nick rubbed a hand down his face like he was the exhausted one. "That's quite the story, princess." 

He looked at each of his mates, every face stonier than the last. Especially the silent one's, the latino guy. Then he looked back at Robyn and smiled with a lot of teeth. 

"I do have some questions though, if you'll let me." Sure like I have a choice. "Now it wasn't public knowledge you were in on the investigation, but I find it hard to believe your dad's lackeys didn't know it was you who turned him in. And what I find even harder to believe is that they'd let you live for it." 

Robyn said nothing. There was a part of her that didn't quite grasp it either. When she had arrested him, when she'd slapped the cuffs on him herself and read him his Miranda rights, after the shock of her betrayal wore off, Tony had congratulated her. 

"I'm proud of you, kid. You may be a narc but at least you got your head straight. You got guts, kid." 

As far as she understood it, his last order as the leader of the mafia was not to harm her in any way. Nobody bothered her. They still knew her face on the streets, sent glares her way but never touched her. One of his underlings had come to her place and suggested she skip town permanently just to be safe. It was not a courtesy she ever expected from anyone let alone a man with a reputation for high profile robbery and murder. 

She didn't know what to expect. "I guess he really did love me." And Nick left it at that. 

~

Robyn was unbound, blindfolded, and dumped right back onto the street those so called cops had snatched her from. Her legs shook as she walked the last block to her place, utterly miserable and in desperate need of some sleep. Maybe tomorrow she could figure out what the fuck her life had come to. She showered (and cried) and picked up the half drunk beer from her fridge and brought it out on her front steps, taking a sip of the flat beverage and wishing it was something stronger. 

People passed below her on the streets, never once looking up. The traffic never disappeared but it did lull this time of night. She didn't mean to– barely noticed she was doing it– but she found a pack of cigarettes in her overcoat and lit one up. 

"Next time," she promised herself. I'll try to quit next time. 

Just as she was beginning to ease the tension that had been weighing on her all night, a man climbed the steps to her building and pointedly slowed down to a stop a few feet away from her. She chanced a glare at him and found him no stranger which was somehow infinitely worse. 

"Fuck off," her nerves got the better of her, "I told you everything, can't I at least get some sleep first?!" 

The man lifted his hands in defense, carrying a bottle in a brown bag in one of them. He was, well, he was the handsome one. The Cuban with the neck tattoo and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed a lot softer now Despite the dark setting. 

"Swear on my life, I'm not here for Nick." He took a single step up, waiting to see how she'd react, and when she didn't run, he took another and set the covered bottle down next to her before backing off. Still skeptical, Robyn carefully unwrapped the thing, revealing an expensive looking wine label. Dark red. "It's an apology," he explained with his hands in his pockets, "Nick thinks he's this big, clever actor but he can be a real bully when he drinks." 

Robyn gave him the 'do I look like an idiot' eyebrow and he had the decency to look at his feet. "We could really use your help with this, Banks. Nick forgot to mention the part where Tony was put on parole for good behavior. He'll be out tomorrow." 

"He what." That's just the thing isn't it? The case that ended her career permanently and he just got to walk off after only serving two years of his sentence. That was the real crime here. Robyn gritted her teeth, gripped the neck of the bottle and squeezed. She started shaking it like it was her criminal father, or the weasel federal agents who took her credit, or the dirty cops who kidnapped her tonight. 

Borracho looked concerned. "Do you need a corkscrew or– " 

Robyn shrugged off her jacket and looked him dead in the eye as she wrapped it around the base of the bottle and gently banged it on the porch step until the cork exploded into the air (along with a third of the bottle's contents but whatever). Borracho raised a hand to protect his face from the spray, and turned away to hide a silly grin. 

"Nevermind," he said, shaking the excess drink off his hand. "Listen, if he calls you about anything, please let us know." 

He pointed to the bag, which had a phone number on it. "Don't let your work be in vain." 

"You try that line on everybody?" Rob was feeling a little facetious in the face of mercy, over tired from the revelations, and pissed off by these fucking pigs. "Your good cop, bad cop routine needs some balance. Did you know I was kidnapped today? Now this wine is a start but you'd better step it up, good cop." 

He started to walk away but she called out, "I got Nick, Z, and Murphy. Clocked 'Gus' by the name written on his underwear. Which one are you?" 

"Benny," he threw back, and disappeared into the nighttime traffic. 

"Benny," Rob scoffed. "Cute ass." 

Robb drank the equivalent of two glasses, then passed out from exhaustion. She slept dreamlessly and tried to forget last night had ever happened. Benny, in the meantime, returned to the office where his crew was huddled around a phone receiver. 

"Don't appreciate you throwing me under the bus, B," Nick growled from his seat. 

"Shup up and drink this," Benny pushed the glass of raw eggs closer to his boss' hand, a so called 'hangover cure'. Nick shrunk back a little.

"Told you she'd be sweet on him," Z elbowed Murphy in the ribs and ignored his protesting 'um actually I said that.' 

"Wouldn't call her sweet," Benny said, grunting as he took up residence at his own desk. "She looked like a feral cat." 

Nick laughed. "Yeah well don't go getting mixed up with that pussy, B, we've got work to do." 

It was gonna be another long night for everybody. 

[captainkippen]

SEND ME FIC PROMPTS

Cyrus and TJ's relationship can be described as ‘almost-something-not-quite-there-yet” and has been at that stage for a rather frustrating six months. He's not sure why it's taking them so long to do about it, but Cyrus is certain that TJ must have also acknowledged the tension between them because there have been a few near misses so far where he's thought 'this is iT, he's going to tell me how it feels’ only for TJ to break off what he was saying and turn it into some unrelated ramble. Thanks to this, it's becoming more and more common for him to feel like he's about to tear his hair out when the two of them spend time together. He doesn't want to push TJ to do or say anything he's not ready to do or say, but Cyrus figures it's time to take matters into his own hands or they might actually be stuck at this glacial pace of romance for the next fifty years. He doesn't think he can take fifty years of longing looks and heartfelt texts that lead to nothing. He'll go insane.

The opportunity to make a move arises when Bex and Bowie finally settle on the date of their wedding. At first there's a little hesitation, the engagement has been called off and called back on more than once now and they're all starting to wonder if they'll actually ever do it, but when it's only about a month away Cyrus figures they're finally safe from any drama and starts concocting a plan.

“I need to book dance lessons,” he says offhandedly when they're all lazing around Buffy's house one day. He's sprawled dramatically across one of the couches with his feet up on TJ's lap and a bowl of popcorn on his chest. It's a movie day but the horror flick they're watching is so terrible that nobody's been paying attention for the last forty five minutes. “For the wedding. There's going to be waltzing, right? I don't know how to waltz. Andi, do you know where Bowie's getting his?”

Andi eyes him suspiciously. She's well aware that Cyrus knows how to waltz. He had taught her to waltz when they were twelve. His mom had made him have lessons as a kid. Cyrus is fantastic at waltzing, even if he does say so himself. However, TJ doesn't know that. He gives her a look that says 'play along I'm begging you've and she sighs.

“At the dance studio on second street, I think,” she says. He's so blessed to have such good friends. “Bex knows one of the girls that runs it so she's giving him a discount.”

“You don't know how to waltz?” TJ asks curiously, perfectly on cue. “Don't you do dance for your P.E classes?”

Cyrus shrugs. “It's not ballroom.”

The thing is, he's concocted the perfect plan. TJ doesn't know Cyrus knows how to waltz, but Cyrus knows that TJ does. TJ had surprised them all with this knowledge a few weeks ago at a school dance. Jonah wanted to impress a girl he liked, TJ offered to show him how to dance and everyone got their happily ever after. Except Cyrus. TJ had not waltzed with Cyrus. He's still a little bitter about it.

“I could teach you,” he offers. “Save you the money.”

“Really?” Cyrus says, grinning. “Awesome. Yeah, that would be great thanks.”

Cyrus mentally marks phase one of mission ‘get TJ to admit his feelings’ a success.

*

TJ comes over on Saturday. Cyrus’ mom and stepdad have gone out to some barbeque with friends and won't be back until later so he's taking advantage of an empty house as much as he can. He makes sure to run to the store in the morning to grab some of TJ's favourite chips and soda (Baja blast Mountain Dew because what else do you expect from a teenage boy), and does a rush job at tidying up even though TJ has definitely seen the house in a much worse state than it is. He's been over during family events - he knows how wild they get. There's an odd nervous sensation thrumming in Cyrus’ veins. He has no reason to be on edge. It's just TJ. He tells himself this over and over, trying to calm down, but still jumps when he heard the front door opening and TJ yelling a greeting through the house. He's been letting himself in since they were fourteen now. It's a standard.

“I'm down here,” he yells back. They're going to be practicing in the basement so he's moved the ping-pong table out the way and set up the stereo so it's ready to go. TJ's socked feet thud down the stairs and he beams at him when he comes into view. He pulls Cyrus into a sideways hug and quickly releases him, making a beeline for the Mountain Dew. Cyrus rolls his eyes - typical.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

Cyrus shrugs. “You're the teacher.”

“You got music?”

He hands him to remote to the stereo. TJ fiddled with it for a moment before switching it on to a rhythmic rock beat with a grin. He puts it down, shrugs off his hoodie and walks towards Cyrus.

“You ready?” He pulls Cyrus towards him, positioning them both carefully.

“We're really just jumping into it, then?”

“Of course. I'm gonna lead and I'm gonna explain the steps as we go, okay? Try not to step on my feet.”

Cyrus does step on his feet, several times, quite deliberately. Each time it sets them both off in a bout of giggling and they have to pause for a moment. The afternoon continues in much the same vein, Cyrus pretending to be terrible and making TJ laugh and feeling like his whole world is complete everytime he catches TJ smiling softly at him. His heart thumps when their faces get close together and he hopes and prays that his palms aren't too sweaty where they're clasped in TJ's. It feels right, the two of them together like this.

There's a moment, when they're coming to the end of a song and slowing down where Cyrus thinks this might be it. TJ might say something. They're looking into one another's eyes, the world around them faded slightly, and he's holding his breath waiting for him to say anything. Then TJ coughs, ducks his head and pulls away, announcing they should take a break and get some lunch, and Cyrus kind of wants to scream in frustration. This plan is going to take longer than he expected.

*

As it turns out, the plans takes much longer than he expected. TJ gives him three more dance lessons before the wedding and nothing comes of them. It's the most irritated Cyrus has ever been with him, which he realises isn't technically fair because TJ isn't a mind reader and can't possibly know Cyrus is losing his grip on reality as a result of all these pent up emotions between them, but he can't help it.

The evening of the wedding is a beautiful one. It's being held in a large white tent in the park which is lit up with beautiful handmade lamps dotted around artfully, illuminating the flowers and chairs that have been set up for the ceremony. In the dark outside, fireflies flicker in and out of existence. The stars above them are almost unusually bright. It seems like there's a certain amount of magic in the air.

Cyrus may or may not cry during the vows. He and TJ sit together, knees pressed up against one another like always, the edges of their hands touching ever so gently stop them. He thinks he might have heard a sniffle or two from TJ as well, but he doesn't comment. TJ is sensitive about those kinds of things. Bex and Bowie are so obviously in love, they both nearly sob during their vows, and for a moment Cyrus envies them with everything he has. He wants that one day. To love somebody so much it consumes him, but it makes him happier and a better person in the process. He thinks about the boy sat next to him and how it feels like he's pretty close to that already.

In typical Mack fashion, they throw a stellar party for the reception. There's a live swing band and a lot of loud laughter. Champagne flows freely and a disco ball that he suspects was Andi's idea glitters above the makeshift dance floor. Cyrus watches in amusement as the guests get drinker, the dancing gets worse and the jokes get dirtier. Everyone's having such a good time. When the first waltz comes on, he catches TJ's eyes across the room.

It seems like time stops as he walks towards him. TJ meets him in the middle with a wide smile and pulls them both on to the dance floor, taking Cyrus’ hand and placing his own on his waist. Cyrus forgets all about pretending to be terrible but TJ doesn't seem surprised in the slightest.

“I knew you were faking,” he laughs.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Cyrus says, but he can't hold back his own smile. “... How'd you figure it out?”

He rolls his eyes. “I know you better than anyone, Cy. You're my best friend. You think I don't know you can dance? Your mom's shown me the pictures of your ballroom classes before. I'm not totally stupid.”

Cyrus prevents himself from saying 'that's debatable’ but it's a close call. TJ seems to read his mind and laughs anyway.

“I don't get why you needed to pretend, though,” he says. “You don't need to come up with excuses to hang out with me. You could tell me we're going to go sit in a field in silence for four hours and I'd still come because you'd be there.”

Cyrus sighs. “I know… it's just. I don't know. It's stupid, never mind.”

“No, what is it? Tell me.”

“I think…” he takes a deep breath. “You say you're my best friend, and that's true, but I also think you're more than that. And you have been for a really long time.”

TJ just keeps looking at him, saying nothing. Cyrus continues.

“Maybe it's just me that feels that way… but I don't think it is. I was hoping maybe if we got some one on one time doing something romantic maybe… maybe you'd say something?”.

“You pretended you couldn't dance because you wanted me to admit I have feelings for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, obviously I do. Even Jonah knows that. Why didn't you just ask?”

Cyrus gapes at him. He can't believe it was that easy. TJ hadn't even hesitated to admit it. “... I didn't think of that.”

“You know, for the smartest guy I've ever met, you're kind of dumb,” TJ says with a fond look. “You could've told me how you felt too.”

“Oh… hush,” Cyrus says. “Stop smirking it's not funny.”

“It's pretty funny,” TJ grins. Cyrus pushes himself up on to his tiptoes to reach him, and just to wipe the amused smile from his face he presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

TJ makes him want to tear his hair out sometimes, but it's in the best way possible.

[dorotheajanegilmore]

Closer to you - Chris Evans

CHAPTER TWO

Dinner that night was lovely. Mom made my favourite meal, chicken casserole and it was so flipping good. You know when you don't have a certain food in a while and you grave it so much and then you finally have it and it's so satisfying? That's this. This chicken casserole.

I sat beside Lucy and Joe on the left couch whole mom, dad and Leo day on the right couch. Alex sat on the floor and worked through some receipts for his and my dads garage.

Dad and Alex are mechanics and own their own garage in town. Alex skipped out on college, he's been working on bikes and cars since he could walk and so my dad decided to go into business with him a year or two ago.

My mother is an interior decorator and artist. You'll either find her in paint stores or furniture stores and then you'll see her in her paint splashed dungarees, holding  four books of paint swatches and fabric samples.

My sister Lucy is a nurse and works at the local hospital. Her husband Leo is a high school teacher who teaches french, which comes in handy when I want to talk to him and Lucy in private in front of family members. And Joe, well Joe's 6 so he's whatever he wants to be.

Holly is a therapist in the city, she has her own office and clients and is a full on boss lady. Her boyfriend Penn is an attorney at a big firm a few blocks away from her office.

Teegan also works in the city, as a freelance photographer. Her photos have been featured in big magazines and she's working on her own exhibit at a small museum right now.

Chloe is a fashion designer who's trying to get her boss to take a look at her sketch book, however it's kind of a Devil Wears Prada situation and her boss is ignorant unless she wants coffee or an Advil. Chloe's boyfriend Jonas is a builder and works around the city doing various things.

It's hard to believe we've all got grown up jobs. Even though my next birthday I turn *cough* thirty *cough* I still feel like a fifteen year old high school student with pink streaks in my hair and working Saturday's at the Dairy Queen.

As we all crowded around the tv in the living room, the fireplace crackling in the background, watching Home Alone, the door bell rang.

My mother was busy creating interior designs on her iPad, my dad was captures by the booby traps set by young Kevin McAllister and my sister gave me a sharp elbow, telling me I had to go. With a roll of my eyes I let my fluffy socks hit the hard wood floors.

I stepped out into the hall and closed the living room door behind me not to let all the heat out of the front door. I pressed my hands to the solid wood door and peered up through the peep hole. As soon as I saw who it was I stepped back down in panic. It was the hot guy from next door. I had just washed all of my makeup off in the shower! My hair was a wet scraggly mess and my pyjamas had Rudolph on them.

Not wanting to leave him I the cold I sighed and twisted the key in the lock. I pulled the door back and acted surprise. "Hi."

"Hi, uh Alessia right?" He asked, pointing at me casually, while holding a small shoe box that had been decorated with Christmas paper.

I nodded and pointed back. "Lisa's son right?"

"Chris." He shrugged and chuckled.

"Nice to meet you properly, Chris." I said and he nodded.

"And you. Uh I just found the box my grandma left you and thought I should bring it over." He held it out to me and I took it.

"Thank you. Do you know what's in here?" I wondered out loud.

Chris shrugged. "No, Nana never said. It's intriguing though."

"Well would you like to come in and go through it with me?" I offered.

"Oh I wouldn't want to intrude." He shook his head politely.

"It wouldn't be intruding, it's me inviting."

"Well..." He stepped back and glanced over at his house before nodding. "Sure, it would be nice."

I stepped back and pulled the door open for him to come in. His sneakers left snow on the welcome mat and he hung his jacket up on the hook.

I closed the door and gestured to the door beside the living room door. He went first and stepped into Joe's playroom. We walked through the playroom until we got to the study. A small room at the back of the house that was lined with bookshelves that were full of the classics. Apart from one wall which left room in the middle for a fireplace and a tv. The fireplace was fake, we could t risk all of these books being caught ablaze. It was just cosy.

A large grey couch was placed in the middle of the room, filled with blankets and comfy plump pillows. A small bar cart  was at the back of the room with sachets of hot chocolate, teabags, various mugs and a tea kettle. My dads hot chocolate station. This room was the epitome of cosy.

"Wow, this is the most homely cosy room I have ever been in." Chris chuckled as he sat at the far end of the couch, his eyes frantically searching the room in wonder and awe.

"Yeah, my dad designed it when I was 12. I was the most anxious kid you'd ever meet. It really helped me."

"You struggled with anxiety?" Chris asked, taking interest in me.

I nodded, feeling strangely comfortable with him. "I had knee surgery when I was young so I took quite some time away from school. I spent six months in the house so when I finally went back to mainstream school and going back to stores and being around strangers and crowds, it hit me hard." I sat down on the couch, leaving a comfortable metre.

"I couldn't even imagine. You're really strong for going through that so young." Chris put a comforting hand on my shoulder absentmindedly. When he realised he had touched me he tended up and awkwardly removed his hand. "Sorry about that."

I shrugged. "It's fine, thank you for trying to comfort me. I appreciate it. Now, let's get into this shall we."

He nodded and I began to pick the edge of the brown tape sealing the two sides of the box. With a great pull the tape lifted and the two sides opened. I placed the box between us and pulled the sides back.

"Oh my god." I giggled as I saw the familiar white paper. "Cheryl always has this fancy paper on her kitchen counter-"

Chris nodded like an excited child, his cheeks becoming flushed. "Yes, for her recipes!"

We each took a sheet and read over them. "I must've asked a good thirty times for her blueberry pie recipe."

"Looks like the nagging was worth it." He chuckled as he pulled out a chunk of paper. He flipped through and nodded. "Yep. All of Nana's recipes. You lucky cookie."

"Well now I have to go to the store don't I." My smile was wild as I remembered all of the hours I spent baking with sweet Cheryl.

"Why's that?" Chris wondered out loud.

"I need baking supplies. Tomorrow's gonna be a busy one."

Chris shook his head and placed the recipes on the couch. "Not to be invasive but would you mind if I joined? I could test all the goods, you know make sure they're up to standard." He nodded, pretending to be serious.

"Are you kidding? If you want the food you have to help." I told him and he nodded, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Hey I wouldn't mind that."

"Alright then." I nodded.

We continued through box, pulling out photos and little things I had left like a bracelet I had taken off before a baking session and my scarf I had forgotten.

"Would you mind if I kept this?" Chris asked from behind me as I slid the recipes into a plastic pocket I had gotten from one of the drawers.

Without turning back to see what he meant I furrowed my brows and buttoned the pocket. "My scarf? Sure, if that's what you're in to."

"Funny." He chuckled. "I meant one of these photos. I know you're in it so if you'd feel uncomfortable or course tell me to piss off but, I've never seen my Grandma so happy."

I turned around to glance at the photo and ended up stopping. The photo Chris wanted was of me holding a baking tray will Cheryl added some last minute sprinkles to the batter. Her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was open as she laughed fiercely at something I had said. It made me miss her and our baking sessions so much.

I wiped a tear and nodded. "Of course, yeh, take it." I said quickly before my voice began to shake.

"Aww Alessia." Chris rushed to his feet as he saw me cry. His thinking was just to comfort me, he didn't care that we had only just met. He pulled me into a hug and his hand rubbed my back.

I hugged back momentarily before remembering that this guy was a stranger. I quickly put my hands on his muscular arms and pulled back. "I'm sorry. She was your grandmother, I have no right to cry over this."

"What? Of course you do." Chris shook his head and defended my emotional outburst. "You grew up next to her. You spent hours with her. Hours that me and my family really appreciate. When she lost Arthur, my grandfather, she was so lonely and me and my siblings couldn't come back and forth as much as we would have liked. From the photos, I can tell she loved every minute with you. You were like a granddaughter to her."

"Thanks Chris." I said with tear filled eyes.

His kind blue eyes looked down at me and he nodded with a small smile. As we looked at each other in silence, another tear fell from my eye, one that had been on the edge for a while. His hand came traveled up and his thumb gently wiped the heat from my cheek.

Before things could get awkward I looked down and then back up at him. I stepped back and put a hand in my hoodie pocket. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course. What time did you wanna get started?" Great, the subject had been easily changed and we could move on.

"Uh I need to go to the store so maybe like 10-11am?"

"You want to sleep in don't you?" He smirked at me and I nodded with a shrug.

"Yeah well it's been a long drive from New York and I'm tired from...all of the emotion. So yeah, I'm sleeping in."

He chuckled and I reached for the door. I pulled it back to see my mother standing with her fist in the air, obviously about to knock.

"Mom?"

"Oh, hi honey. Uh, Chris?" My mother's eyes shot to his direction and she sent him passive aggressive daggers.

"Yes Mrs Perri?"

"You're girlfriend-" my mom emphasised the word "girlfriend" and I quietly giggled and nodded. Of course he had a girlfriend? Why wouldn't Mr Handsome McPerfect have a girlfriend? "-called and said that dinner's ready."

Chris nodded. "Great, thanks Mrs Perri."

My Mom nodded and turned to walk away, sending me a sorry look. When she closed the had gone down the hall and I heard the living room door close I looked over at Chris.

He was twiddling his thumbs, looking at me to judge my reaction. I gave him a friendly smile and pulled the door back. "So I'll see you tomorrow right?" Pretending I wasn't disappointed. But what did I expect? That he liked me? No way, we're friends. I just met the guy, he's my baking partner. Nothing more.

"Right, yes." He looked and sounded so relieved.

Previously (chapter one)

Next (chapter three)