#‘I like your spunk kid. join my cult.’

[luna-the-cretar]

The more of episode 1 of CoS I watch, the less I’m convinced that Shepherd was supposed to have religious trauma. I know it’s still very early on and I imagine it’s going to be covered at some point, but also, like…Shepherd basically went “huh maybe I SHOULD join your cult” after watching Sarnax obliterate those wraiths.

[multsicorn]

a very very long list of maybe wip’s

Since I'm working on setting up a binder of WIPs for myself - here are all fifty-nine of them.  All are Check Please: mostly Jack/Parse, most of the rest Parse-centric, most of the rest Jack-centric, but a few random other fics too.  Quite a few of these are only ideas, but most (~75-80%, at least) have anywhere between a few hundred and a few thousand words written, and some have considerably more.

Votes or encouragement as to which particular fics I should work on are very much welcome!  And in fact a large part of the point of posting this.  Pleaseee tell meeee what you want to seeeee.

JACK/PARSE IN THE Q

golden haze -  Kent was Jack's first real friend, ever.

crash into me - Jack likes crashing into things.  Kent likes being crashed into.  Checking practice, kind of, Jack/Parse style.

one warm line - Parse wakes Jack up one night in the middle of their Q years, throwing pebbles at his window.  They're going for a ride.

i'm so high - Jack and Kent hook up for the first time at a party when they're smoking weed, when the smallest touches feel like so much.

the beat of the tambourine - Parse picks up a girl for Zimms.  For a threesome.  Before they're together, back in the Q.

closing the guest room door - Alicia walks in on Kent blowing Jack.  It's the first time it's happened, too.  The Zimmermanns hadn't known anything about any of this, but now they do.

beneath the waves - There are two attractions in Rimouski: the Juniors ice hockey team, and a maritime museum.  Jack kind of wants to live on a submarine.

edge of glory - Kent kisses Jack high on adrenaline and the win, feeling unstoppable.  They only have thirty-four days together, but they start out pretty great.

ace kent fucks jack - Kent doesn't care that much about fucking, but he cares too much about Jack.

don't make promises - Kent visits the Zimmermanns after Jack's out of rehab, and Jack scares him even more.

JACK/PARSE CANON DIVERGENCE

find your lips in the streetlights - Kent and Jack run away from the mounting and dangerous pressure of the Q.  And Jack almost dies from benzo withdrawal; nice move?

what's the multiplier for i love you - Parse has a career-ending injury at seventeen.  He ends up going to Samwell, and starts managing the hockey team there before Jack even shows up.

one skate in front of the other - In which Jack wakes up from his overdose to find out he's still been drafted in absentia.  To the Las Vegas Aces, third round.

different verse same as the first - Jack manages to get through Draft Day successfully.  He ODs about a year later, at his first NHL awards; Parse still finds him in the bathroom.

JACK/PARSE POST CANON ISH

jackparse goat fic - Kent is outed during Jack's last semester at Samwell.  It's a spark that makes Jack talk to him again: and again, and again, with starts and stops along the way.

bitty's bad bakery - Turning a profit doing something you love is really freaking hard.  Just cause Bitty's good at baking doesn't mean he'll be good at running a bakery; and Jack can only finance it for so long, no longer.  Cue Kent the accountant showing up to help.

max assholes au - In which Jack marries Bitty with Kent's spunk still in his mouth.

we're pining friends - In which Jack and Parse become friends again, and Jack's so not thrilled with Parse's boyfriend.

jackparse valentines - Jack and Parse on Valentine's Day, at eighteen and again at twenty-eight.  Sweet but not too sweet.  Just right.

developing - Jack likes taking pictures of Kent.  Kent is curious about why.

may the bridges i have burned light my way back home - Jack's nearing thirty.  His performance is flagging, his boyfriend broke up with him, and now he's at Kent Parson's thirtieth birthday party, wondering how else his life could've gone.

JACK/PARSE AFFAIR REVEAL VERSE

conference room fuck - You can't put Parson and Zimmerman in a room together.  But if you do, you can't keep them from fucking.

you wouldn't cheat at cards (i would if i could) - Jack continues to cheat on Bitty with Parse throughout the summer after Jack and Bitty come out to the whole wide world.  At the NHL awards, at Parse's summer place in New York, at Jack's birthday.

under the rainbows - After coming out to the whole wide world on live TV in June, Parse comes back to the Aces in September.

tinfoil crowns - A look at the meltdowns of Hockey RPF fandom, as Jack Zimmerman comes out, followed by Kent Parson, followed by Parse and Zimms getting back together, after all!?  How crazy it must be when the tinhatters are right.

letting them see your hands - In which Shitty works through his feelings about Jack cheating on Bitty, and Shitty and Lardo discuss their relationship, too.

waking up to shape the land - When Jack comes to Vegas to play the Aces - and, by the way, see his boyfriend - he's woken up by Kent's nightmare.

functional exes - After Jack cheated on Bitty with Kent, and it all blew up spectacularly; after some damanged friendships were restored.  Jack and Bitty are both there for Shitty's wedding.  Bitty's a pro at keeping things civil; Jack… wants to apologize?

JACK/PARSE IN TOTAL AU'S

the hockey prince - Jack is a Prince; Kent was his best friend, and his right hand man.  Till Jack disappeared in mysterious circumstances, and Kent may or may not be to blame.

ai romance - Jack is an AI that was always meant to drive a robot.  Parse is, well, a parser.  The part of a computer program that takes in and processes input, before it passes it on to the real heart of the program.  A part which, it turns out, can't work right without its parser after all.

cult au - SMH is a cult house!  That's why everyone there has to always be happy.  Pies make people like you; flip cup is a good fill-in for a hippie ritual; and no wonder Jack cut off everyone he used to know when he joined.

cut the legs off the whales - Jack and Parse were soulmates.  Jack died for three seconds, and now they're both stuck with half a broken bond, with all the luck at hockey - or at life.

JACK/PARSE NON-ENDGAME

you're still my patron saint - Jack's OD is fatal.  Kent's got the biggest chip in the world on his shoulder.  Hockey killed his boyfriend, and he wins the Stanley Cup, and then he comes out, furious.

progress report (i am missing you to death) - AKA 'five times Kent tells Jack "I miss you," and one time he doesn't.'

P(B)J

can you say menange a trois - Zimbits porn featuring dirty talk about the absent Kent Parson, because Bitty's 'Kent parson. Wow.' face reads easily as 'dead from too much hot.'

married in vegas - Jack and Parse get accidentally married after a Falcs/Aces game, cause you've just gotta have the trope when in Vegas.  Starts with Jack still in love with Bitty, not sure where it was supposed to end up.

scalene - Jack and Parse aren't fighting over Bitty.  They're fucking over Bitty.  I mean.

awful threesome - Parse guilts Jack into letting him visit Providence after Jack and Bitty come out, and Parse gets hit with redoubled specuation.  Then he hits on Jack and Bitty, cause why not, and they, surprisingly, take him up on it.  This isn't a good idea for anyone.

PARSE CENTRIC GEN

butterflies fly away - Kent moves into Vegas.  His sister flies out for a few days to help.

the one that saves me - When he first comes to Vegas, Kent's shit at taking care of himself.  Maybe he can take care of a cat instead.

PARSWOOPS 2K18

parswoops in providence - Swoops is standing between Parse and the door to the worst life choices.

two aces in the hole - Parswoops in which Parse and Swoops are both ace (and get together, romantically), cause thinking about a dumb pun accidentally gave me feelings.

parswoops post year three - How can Swoops tell his best friend he likes guys, when said best friend is the only reason he figured it out?  Also, still isn't over his last best friend yet.

PARSE/RANDOM DUDE IS THE AO3 TAG FOR PARSE/HAPPINESS

parse slash scraps - There's something nice, Parse thinks, about having a friend like Scraps, a friend who thinks you're the smartest, coolest, handsomest guy in every room.

by the scruff - Kent really wants to pick a fight.  Alexei Mashkov won't give it to him.  But… that kind of is a fight, right?

makes no difference who you are - Parse wishes on a star: to talk to Jack again.  Chowder wishes on a start, that same night: to know what it's like to be on an NHL team.  They wake up in each others' bodies, and have to find a way to get back.

a pretty good genie - Shitty is the best genie, okay.  How'd Parse get one of those anyway.

players gonna play - In which Kent Parson bonds with Gus Kenworthy over adorable pet pictues at the Olympics, and then they hook up.

the aces' flyboy - In which Kent tweets a request for a date to the NHL awards, and picks up a local dude who responds.

MORE JACK CENTRIC FIC

quiet kid - Who the fuck prescribes benzos to a thirteen-year-old kid, anyway.

what if i ruined your life - Visiting Uncle Mario, in the late 00s, Jack hates Sidney Crosby.  (I can't resist the fourth wall.)

jacklardo - Lardo hooks up with some dork named Jack at her very first college party.  They're better off as friends; he was hot, though.

jackshit - Jack and Shitty hooked up as freshmen.  What else do you want me to say.

tie down the jesses - The newest Falconer needs to learn a lesson.  Needs to learn his place.

dirty boys - You're not supposed to look in the locker room.  Don't bring it onto the team.  Oh, and stay faithful to your boyfriend.  But Jack's always wanted what he can't have.

ZIMBITS

i like when boys stop by  - A rough fill-in of the conversation that decides Bitty's staying with Jack for the summer that surely must've happened.

how do you make it for real - the zimbits coffeeshop au for fandomtrumpshate that i've been struggling with for over a year now.

HOLSOM & RANSKOV

and go seek - When Ransom's crush on Alexei Mashkov turns out not to be unrequited, Ransom and Holster are pushed to reevaluate their relationship, too.

BITTY???

bitty in the echl - Being captain of a pretty decent NCAA team gets Bitty a surprise job offer post-graduation from the Worcester Railers.  His relationship with Jack bends and breaks under the stresses of their dual hockey careers, but there's a familiar face in Bitty's new life.  He never thought that he'd see John Johnson again.

[dememarquette]

ASHWATER: Epilogue [...pt 2]

[First Part by malum--in--se]

The only person I knew in this city was Adria.

I mean, really knew. As far as connections went, I was at a loss. My life had been rooted deep in good old California. Due to circumstances you can catch at 7 PM Central on HBO, it was violently severed last month. And while I was hitting it off in Modena better than expected, no one should have been at my door. Adria was also the only one who knew my address, but this early in the afternoon she’d be elbow-deep in CSI: Modena. My door beeped again. After the second time, sheer annoyance prompted to peek at the security camera. A stout woman, barely clearing five feet stood at the foot of the building. I don’t recognize her, but she sure was acting familiar with my buzzer. It pinged again, extended as she held her thumb on the button. This time I responded. ”Apartment 312 speaking; do you mind?” She stopped her pacing, pivoted, and jammed a finger on the intercom, a little too excited. “Mr.Marquette? Hello, hello! This is Kathy Grover- I’d like to sit down with you for a meeting. It’s- it’s confidential.” “Confidential?” “You’ll see, uhm." She adjusted the large messenger bag on her shoulder. "I'll only need fifteen minutes for a quick chat. It’s in your best interests, honest! Pretty please, please pleaseee.” Well that doesn’t sound creepy.

I glanced at my television. Noting that the Kardashian’s weren't going anywhere, I supposed I could postpone my afternoon plans a bit. I sighed, giving her the all-clear. “I’ll bite. Come on up.” She disappeared off the camera. Three minutes later, tiny knocks hit my door in record time. I welcomed her in. She rushed inside, already flipping open her laptop to make herself at home before a proper introduction. I smirked, admiring her spunk until it looked like she was about to have a mental breakdown on my coffee table. I require coasters, even for tears. “If Julia asks,” She exhaled. “I’m not here.” “If Julia asks, neither am I." I pocketed my hands. "What’s this about?” “Ashwater. I'm writing your account.” Right, I snorted. I knew she was going to milk it for everything it was worth. That line in the contract about a book deal was much more appealing a year ago. “If this is really about business you really should have made an appointment.” It's worth nothing that I'm using the terms ‘business’ and ‘appointment’ lightly. Things aren’t what they were. I was out of the limelight, but our personal notoriety in the city had gotten me somewhere within healing the community. To put it lightly, the mass suicides completely fucked up Modena. Not that they needed a dose of Catholicism to fix it right up- but my niche and trendy factor multiplied by survivor status gave me a leg-up on the competition. It’s not television, and it’s little more than a step higher than where I started at the inception of my career but the church I operate from is mine. Mine. At one month in, I’m wondering how lost track of that concept in the first place. "-And I have made it clear I'm done with that whole mess." “I am here for my business, but it is about your business.” She paused, nose wrinkled. “I’m sorry- she did tell me not to contact you, but I can’t help it. It’s your life. The history major in me wants it to be accurate.” I can't blame her for that. Part of me knows Julia would dance on the border of defamation of character all day if she could. I pulled up a chair. “Noooow that you mention it, I think I'd rather it be accurate too.” Sure, it was valuable time but I will never pass up the chance to talk about myself. "Most if it is on film though, what do you need to know? “This romance with Adria. It’s so confusing.” Record scratch. Uh. “What?” “It’s up, down- off, on- it’s difficult to fill in the blanks between takes.” “What do you mean ‘romance’?” Now she was confused. “W-what?” “There is no romance. Nada.” “Oh no..." She cupped her mouth. "Did it fall apart after you moved to Modena?” “What?! No. It never happened. Where are you even getting that? Don’t tell me the forums or I'll kick you out right now.” Suspicious, she turned her screen my way. Alright PAUSE. It's time for me to admit it: Adria and I's closeness has...never been an easy subject to broach. I'm not oblivious to my on screen chemistry with Adria. What am I saying- I'm not oblivious to our chemistry in general.What made Ashwater great, and not a repressed episode of trauma, was Adria. She was a breath of fresh air when Hollywood met a cornfield. Our banter was great, her devotion was pure, and I'll be the first to say I came out of that town a new person. The US audiences saw that within us. That was the whole draw- aside from all the spooky shit, of course. We just worked really, really well together. Miss Kathy thought so to, and decided to condense that down into a ten minute montage. She spliced together our interactions. Starting from a little bit before the family dinner, to post-Boris, to the kid's hospital, and then the whole Crocotta roller coaster that was only nuanced on television, but never clearly explained. I don’t blame her for losing track. While I can account for all the stupid stuff I did between takes, the cameras couldn’t. I found myself smiling when reliving Adria's candid honesty, and cringing like a kicked dog when I had fucked up. "Uh-" I stopped her as soon as the two of us stepped into the frame in disguise. "We can skip this part..." “Well fine- one last one though! This is my favorite.” Her cursor jumped ahead on the timeline, and my heart stopped. I had no idea the film was salvaged that far into the night. It was post-Modena in the heart of the cult warehouse. The entire scene was dark except the licks of fire on the edges. How the camera was still rolling, I had no clue. It was on its last leg. The footage shoddy at best. All scratched up, and battered. The woman I was following was barely visible, completely obscured by smoke, but by the time I had gotten out of the wooden shack the lens was clear. Adria was in the background, at the edge of the trees. You could tell the moment I saw her- she was my focal point. She was my purpose. It captured every step I limped towards her until I ultimately collapsed by her side, and the frame turned upward into the storm clouds. The feed went still. Nothing except the wave of trees overhead, and smoke clearing out until Kathy sped it up again. She stopped, just before- “Deme?” Adria’s voice cracked. It still gave me chills. But in that moment, a wounded and battered Adria had a different connotation. The view turned- energized, and sharp enough to catch a frame of our hands interlocked. Our voices were so bad it merited captioning, but miraculously every detail was intact through the trauma. I hadn’t realized I stopped breathing until the screen was ripped away. Kathy pulled up a littered word document, eyes wide and grin stretching ear to ear. “See! You can’t hide anything from me, Mr.Marquette.” I blinked, faltering when ripped out of the past and put on the spot. “I’m not hiding anything- what- what are you writing?!” I ran around the table. Her fingers, going a mile a minute, tried to capture my reaction. Something about warmth in my face, the light in my eyes. She completely scripted a flashback that honestly didn’t happen. The moment in the raw was way better than any metaphor she could twist around. “'That's the moment I knew we were destined to-what?! That is NOT how I’d say that.” “How would you put it?” “Uh- I’d say that yeah, I was happy to see her alive, but-” “No, no.” She primed her hands back at the starting line. “Start from the beginning?” Fifteen minutes, my ass. It was the longest two hours of my life. - - - 6 AM the following Sunday, I was setting up the chapel. I couldn't get her film off my mind. The scenes, everything. I'd never get around to re-watching the series because: A. My shoulder revolted just thinking about it. B. It was still a sore spot for both of us. Not the whole thing, obviously, but what it’d inevitably lead up to. Though we got past that. I’d like to think she forgave me after all this time, but I'd understand if she didn’t. Point is that we set it aside to grow as people. I was content with how our cards fell. We were close, and we cared about each other. A lot. That was sort of it... But then the weird part kicked in. Someone else saw something...Not some creep online, but someone trusted enough to write my fucking autobiography, for example. She saw something was there. That's when it really sunk in. Was it that obvious? And did its obviousness meant she felt...something too? The signs were there. It sounds nice on paper to say she did, but is that why we were here? Is that why I invited her? Did I pick Modena because I honestly thought this was the only place I could make it after Julia? And did she only join me because she was intending to go there anyways? Or was it more? I acted on impulse in that hospital- or at least that’s what I played it off as. Why? Because I don’t know how to explain an alternative. It’s truly what I wanted at the time. Now I have to figure out what it all means, and what's is going on in her head- which is easier said than done, by the way. She hasn’t said anything about it! And if there was any reoccurring theme from our time there, it was that I don't know what she’s thinking. I didn't know, and maybe I never will. She's so different. She's everything I'm not, and would never think to be, but inspiring. That's what made her exciting. Not that golden Jesus would agree. Throughout the course of this mental monologue, I didn't realize I had dusted His head so many times he was starting to get a bald spot- ah… These thoughts were best saved for a time outside the church. I coughed, trying to dismiss the shallow guilt wadding up in my chest. "Sorry Jesus." - - - Our schedules had a tendency to clash when she got into detective boot camp. Communication became sparse. We caught each other at odd times on odd days just to keep in touch. It was fine. I understand it was a whole lot of settling in for the both of us. I had a whole community to cultivate, and she had be rehabilitated into dealing with delicate humans instead of kicking monster ass. Reasonably, that'll take awhile. Still- that left me bored after services were said and done. I don't miss the danger. God no, I don't. I missed the interaction. I missed the dependency, my partner in crime. Restlessness became an itch anytime I had too much time on my hands. Small at first, until the two month mark when it became maddening. I thought it was attention deprivation at first. I put myself out there. I would do stupid AMA's online, and reply to fan mail in an attempt to catch the same high I did a year back. Surprisingly it.... Didn't help at all. Especially not when little postscripts on the letters asked how Adria was doing, too. It left a sour taste in my mouth when I didn't know what to tell them so that hobby ended rather quickly. Community events were my next go-to. That had more luck. They were equally productive and fun. I got the chance to raise funds to spruce up my chapel to what it should be, and could be the center of the attention while doing it. That cured idle hands a little more. One of the latest was a bake sale benefit held downtown. It wasn't exactly my scene, geared toward your more elderly audiences. Don't get me wrong, I'll always have fun charming the older ladies, but they had it under wraps. I snuck out when the chance arose but stopped cold on the stoop. “What the-” A sudden flash of fury sparked when I saw a pink ticket on my dashboard. I did not put that EXTREMELY tacky parking pass on my windshield of my 'Rari for nothing. I stormed over and swiped it off the dash, ready to raise all sorts of holy Hell with the city of Modena when I noticed it was a blank form. Nothing was scribbled on it but the word ’Lunch?’ in sloppy cursive. Her handwriting. I put it with the other one. - - - The weekly lunches started back up afterward. Absolutely non-negotiable. Not even the sickest orphan could make me work within the noon-3PM block on Fridays. Granted, we weren’t at Jo’s. I didn't have any show on the air, and she didn't have to play damage control for her mom, but it was pleasant. It was a tiny piece of Ashwater I'm glad we reinstated. Location changed weekly as I found new spots I thought she’d like. Hearing she'd never had sushi before was unacceptable. My hands around hers, I guided the grip of her chopsticks. With a little adjustment, they were functional. "-That's horrifying." I balked. "What? It was worse training to be a cop! This was more procedural stuff." "But running five miles in how long? How is that humanly possible?" "Hey," She grinned. "That's just keeping in shape. Join me at the gym sometime. I'll make you the buffest preacher in New England." "Pass." I said, rejecting that mental image. "But really, how’s the force?” “It’s great!" She beamed. "Surreal compared to Ashwater, which is saying something. Exciting but different. A good kind of different.” “‘Different’?” I asked, giving up chopsticks for a fork when her dexterity as a newbie already had mine beat. At least I know what a soup spoon is. “That’s not what I was expecting. Just not the same as running straight into monsters, huh?” “Maybe I don’t have anyone to chase.” She propped up her chin with a hand, warm smile from across the table. “Except, you know, the bad guys.” “Except the bad guys.” Somehow I don't think they'll have as much fun being tailed by her as I've had. Their loss; but that would be weird to say. Instead I accidentally opted for something weirder entirely, because I'm a teenager. “How’s your partner?” Her eyebrow flicked up. “Partner?” “Yeah, don’t you get assigned one? Or something.” I picked at the sashimi with practiced disinterest. "Cops are never alone on TV." "Well yeah. Uh. He's fine. We get along great. He's been on the team a lot longer than me, I've got a lot of learning to do." "Oh, he's way older?" "Uh...yes?" I tried not to sound too relieved. "Oh nice, nice. He'll be a good, uh. Mentor." Puzzled, she lost sight of where I was going with this. "...I guess?" "I'm happy for you." Great. Now it's awkward, but you wouldn't have known that from my attitude. She finished her lunch, and I flagged the waiter over. Adria reached for her wallet, and I stopped her. "No- no. Don't worry about it. I got this." "You? Pay?" She said, in exaggerated surprise. "Am I dealing with the fake Deme again?" I laughed, painfully. Ha ha ha. Now she did it. I felt even worse, itching to make a desperate call. "Consider it a congratulations for making it through training." "I was done two weeks ago-" "Oh, if you don't want me to, I won't." I recoiled, defensive. The beginnings of a coy smile crept into her lips. She let go of her wallet like it’d explode with any sudden movements, sarcastic. I wanted to run. "No, I won't stop you~" "Great." "Great." - - - For the first time in forever, I couldn't wait to shove her into her car to LEAVE. I screwed that up. Royally. What kind of message was I trying to put out? That I'm into her, or that I'm a freaky stalker? Subtly isn’t my strong suit, and if any RomCom had ever made it okay just to say ‘Date me, already, god.’ and skip the formalities, I would. Thankfully, my phone still had a very special number on speed dial. The second her vehicle turned the corner, I was on the line. "Ashwater Cottage, Margie speaking!" "Marg, I need your help." - - - Our call spanned the entire drive back to my apartment. I explained everything. I went over the signs I was seeing, to how badly I screwed lunch up. It was irredeemable in retrospect, but Margie didn't think so. In fact, she reassured me three separate times that hand holding wasn't something Adria did with just her best buddies (and that she was really, really sure) before I cracked. Little did she know that was another hour long conversation in the making. “Okay- how about this:" I splayed my fingers on the steering wheel. "DRIVE IN MOVIE. Or is that too much of a smalltown cliche?” “A drive-in would be lovely.” “I don’t know- Footloose was just on the other night, she might know it was uninspired.” "You're overthinking it, dear." “I don't think so! There has got to be a reason she hasn't said anything. I haven't really wow'd her yet. How did her parents do it?” “Uh…” “No! No, you’re right. That’s creepy. Ugh, do you see why I need help?!” Margie chuckled. “Honey, have you dated anyone before?” “Well YES-” I paused. “No? Maybe?” “Not like this?” She suggested. I slumped against the the steering wheel. Yeah, exactly… I've never had to deal with this. Any of it. Even in high school I was the type more interested in fun for the night than anything that spanned longer than a week. And before a year ago, that just made more sense. You want to know why? Because this is hard. She knows me deeper than a flash of the smile, and pretty words. She knows ME me, and some of the gross, off-putting selfish stuff Demetrius Marquette entails. Like, even the literal gross gore and inner tendons. If you asked me a year ago what it’d take for someone to be my better half, I’d have said “zeros and commas.” Now, I have a whole list of strangely specific virtues, and adjectives that would only come to a poet. I don’t want to ruin this because I am damn sure I’d never find something like this again, and I don’t want to. Margie sighed, the pleasant kind where you could hear her smiling as she did it. My silence was intuitively taken as an affirmative. “Don’t you worry about it. Adria isn’t a girl who is going to be impressed by a diamonds and opera theater. She doesn’t need grand displays or money- she just wants you." “..She does?” “Haha, well I won’t speak for her! You’ll have to figure these things out on your own, but don’t dilly dally. Be yourself.” “Right…” I shifted. “Don’t...say anything to anyone about this, okay?” “Your secret is safe with me. Good luck!” - - - So drive-in movie wasn’t happening. Regular movie is too basic (and cheap). Not much else wasn’t much jumping out at me. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, I came up with nothing. Margie put emphasis on a personal flair instead of flashiness. But what if my personal flair is flashiness? I had to find a middle ground between, and that idea didn’t come to me until a horse and carriage tour clopped outside the chapel. It helped me come up with a plan. Mentally, too. No, I wasn’t going to take Adria on a stinky, over-crowded novelty ride around the town. I went on my own time, for a better grasp of the city. Something around here had to be us and I found it. The reservation to a five-star was an afterthought and the catalyst. This dinner itself would be the two of us. Despite the exuberant exterior, we’d content in our world just as we’d have been on the hood of her cruiser or on a bale of hay. I made the conscious effort not to think about what I was doing or what she was thinking because I never had before, and that’s what worked for us. What Adria was to me was comfort. I needed to stop saying things I thought I should and just...go with it. The skin-tight red dress was just a bonus. Afterwards was more important, anyways. I told myself if we got to that point, there was no longer any room for doubt. - - - After dinner, we took to the streets. I walked. My eyes were studiously focused on the sidewalk ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her double take in the opposite direction. This was the part where I normally walked her back to her car, but she didn’t say a word nor miss a step. Wordlessly confirming, my hand slipped out of my coat when the cool autumn air would normally advise against it. Our fingers didn’t brush against each other. Instead, they instinctively clasped. The city was gorgeous this time of year. And the park? Beautifully abandoned. Kids were in school, and the homeless populace had found shelters above forty degrees. I scoped this spot out via tour before booking our reservation. It was only a block away. It spoke to me. When you got past the statues and benches, the main attraction was the fountain. The guide warned that it’d be the last few days of the season where it’d be in up and running. Soon the ice would claim it; it felt like a metaphor, in a way. For now, it was left on, lights and all. We stopped to sit on the fountain walls. Sign dissuading it be damned, we only paid attention to the plaque. It was engraved on the side with the names and descriptions of heroes from another calamity before our time. Adria took the time to read over it. I was less patient, finding more to revere in the woman before me. I patted the concrete beside me. “We should have really got one of these in Ashwater, huh?” “Yeah. But they already dedicated a day to us.” She said, taking the spot. She shimmied closer until our arms touched. “What more do we need? Wait- don’t answer that.” “What?” I said, offended. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Well, except I don’t know how they’d fit Kyriakoulopoulos on it.” “Hey,” She nudged. “You learned my name.” I winked. Learning a woman’s name on the first date, Dating 101. I didn’t trust myself to say that out loud. Instead, the stillness baited our eyes to the water. The colored bulbs shifted under the icy surface in a continuous luminescent transition. Blue, green, yellow, orange, red... The glow on the half profile of her face was driving me crazy, even when I tried to ignore it. There's no word in English to describe the feeling when there’s so much comfort it hurts. It’s been full year of memories, broken boundaries, and new horizons. It all jumbled together into a rocky formation to spite me. It urged me forward because staying still was no longer an option. The fingers that curled around mine burned. Pulsing, like they threatened to disintegrate if I let another moment pass me by. If there was more to us, I had to have more. “Adria…" I broke the tranquility, stilted. "I need to say something. You’re...really important to me.” “I already told you I can’t get you out of a parking ticket,” She chuckled. I ignored the bite of sarcasm, moving my hand away from hers to free it. I rehearsed this so many times. I don’t know the words that go along with the scenes, only the motions. They're intimate- like a silent film. When she looked back at me, all humor drained away. ‘Oh no, he’s serious.’ Maybe I am. No- I bit my lip. There’s no maybe. I am serious. I am I am I am. We were heading for uncharted territory, but I needed to go. The change of scene wasn’t doing anything if we were staying in the same place. I couldn’t be satisfied with where we were anymore. Tonight, I was cashing in everything. “Deme...” Her voice broke. Instead of moving closer like she was scripted to, she leaned away. I twitched. Just as I was about to reach for her, the muscles in my palm turning to stone. “I always do this. I’m sorry.” …? My brows furrowed. Scratch that- what?! Okay, I was heading into uncharted territory, and she was fumbling on the opposite side of the map. “Adria...what- what are you talking about-?” “It’s so stupid- I went too far. You don’t have to say it.” Her freed hand balled into her other one, nearly aggressive in nature. “I’ve already made you leave once, and I can’t- I can't do it again...” My head was reeling trying to figure out where we got off track. She got up to leave, and I grabbed her hand. Her lack of conviction to keep going proved she didn’t really want to go. “Are you crazy?” “The whole priest thing, I know you-” “Can’t wait?” “What?” Her eyes finally met mine, glassy. “You’re not serious right? Adria, you're not asking me to do anything I don’t want to do. If I’m doing anything it’s because I want you.” I squeezed her hand like she had in the clearing. “Very bad.” “Deme, I-” Oh God. No. I pulled her down beside me to trade her hand for her cheek. Delicate- I held her chin, examining her slightly smudged mascara from different angles. “Are you- are you crying? You’re literally crying!” I laughed, brushing an icy tear from her cheek with my thumb. “You’re ridiculous." "It's not ridiculous!" She said, cheeks flushing at the touch. She was burning, too, but on the outside couldn’t decide what emotion she wanted to embody. That was…relieving. In that moment, I realized two things. One, we both really, really sucked at this, and two: if this- this unsaid, indescribable thing between us was wrong, I had zero will-power to stop myself. The time for talking was gone. The mist from the fountain was steaming off of us. Dead in the middle of Autumn, we were on fire. Our breaths fogged up everything around us except each other. The timing was right, so right. I went for it. I kissed her. With bated breath, I pulled her in. One firm hand on her cheek and the other at the base of her neck, I wanted her. So bad- and I let her know. She wanted me, too. She was waiting for it. Unlike the talk before, there was zero awkwardness. She was fluid. Her lips moved in perfect sync with mine with an ease stated the obvious. We held back too long, but it was the wait that ignited it. A warmth that pushed through our entire bodies. It drove us into each other, both equally fighting to make up for lost time in the other’s arms, and to say the things we had no words for. The girl with walls a mile thick melted into me. And I lured her in just so we could go down together. The hand supporting her followed the curve of her spine. Past the scars, past the pain- she fell with me, recumbent on the fountain’s edge. Her hands gripped tight onto the collar of my coat, while her legs went weak on either side. I held her steady when we threatened to throw ourselves over the edge. I’m not going anywhere. Nor did I plan to. Things were changing again, but there’s no way we’d hesitate.