#‘can I borrow your pen’ ‘yeah sure’ ‘dude are we about to make out right now’

[scatteredcloud]

> “Yeah I just didn’t like the way smoking weed made me feel”

> feeling any emotional pain

> “god I wish I had some weed”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Just Ask

Prompts: Hey… So, I was wondering if you could write a fic where one of the sides are dyslexic? Since that usually just ends as "Oh, I can't read, oh no!" and not like the actual neurodiversity it is. Yes, I admit, I want to relate to one too, but… Well. It'd be awesome if you would, but if that's too tall an order or too specific that's fine too. If you do, though, maybe college AU with roceit? -anon

Hi you're amazing! I love your writing and brand of writing and just I've read a lot of your stories and I love them all kskejejwuwugfhsv-

I was wondering, if you take requests, that maybe you could write a human AU with fake dating Roceit? With confident fat Janus because we need that! Or not, that's your choice!

(I sound like some snob asking for a highly specific coffee shi-) - anon

oh babe y'all wanted to be FED huh

Read on Ao3

Warnings: slight ableist/fatphobic language

Pairings: roceit

Word Count: 2487

Sometimes, you can get all of your work done in the library. Sometimes, people are ableists.

And sometimes there's something wonderful in finding out there's someone there for you as well.

Roman scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. Between waiting ages at the printer or absolutely destroying his retinas by staring at a screen for hours on end, he isn’t unhappy with making the choice to save the environment by using less paper but god.

“At least this pdf was convertible,” he mutters, scrolling down to see how many pages he has left. The last four weren’t and reading without the right font is a fucking pain in the ass.

Seven pages left. Great.

Roman focuses on the screen and starts to mutter under his breath again. Focus on the word, figure it out, make the sentence, move on. Pause to take notes, make sure it’s legible to read later, and repeat.

A computer and heavy bag thuds onto the table next to him and he jumps, almost knocking his coffee over. He looks up, glaring at the person who stares down their nose at him like he’s some sort of stain. Rude.

“You’ve been here for like, three hours, dude,” they say, like that’s supposed to justify their behavior, “move. I need this spot.”

Roman looks around. There’s like, four more tables open. “Can’t you just go sit somewhere else?”

“No! This is my spot! You can go sit somewhere else.”

“Well,” Roman mutters, glaring at his screen again, “I was here first. So you can either wait until I’m done or sit down.”

“Dude, I swear—“

“Excuse me,” comes a smooth voice that has no business being this polished in the fucking library, “is this person bothering you, sweetie?”

Roman turns around and his mouth drops open.

“J-Janus?”

Janus raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and glaring at the dick with the heavy bag. Who, as a matter of fact, seems to be muttering and stuffing shit back into said bag.

“Sorry I’m late,” Janus drawls, still sounding way too confident and way too much like he knows what’s going on, “got held up after class.”

“Uh, no problem,” he mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to see the asshole is still standing there, “just, um…working.”

“Ah, well then, you won’t mind if I join you.” And with that, Janus sits down with a flourish, propping his chin up on his hand and fixing the asshole with an impressive look of disgust. “And you…you can leave.”

“Look, buddy—“

“My partner and I have work to do,” Janus says, swiftly cutting them off and making sure Roman has no idea what’s going on, “now leave.”

Roman’s really glad there was no ambiguity that Janus could’ve been talking to him, because he’s about ready to bolt. Only when the asshole has retreated does Janus turn his gaze to him.

“Sorry about that,” he says, flicking a speck of imaginary lint from his gloves, “he seemed like he was bothering you. Thanks for playing along.”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m, uh—“ Janus raises an eyebrow as Roman stumbles over his words— “sorry. Uh, thanks?”

Janus chuckles. “Oh, no worries, sweetie. I was happy to do it. Although…”

Janus squints at him and Roman fights the urge to squirm under that gaze.

“You’re in my seminar class, aren’t you?” Roman nods. “The one that let out three hours ago?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Have you…been here since then?”

Roman nods, trying to get back to work and, you know, maybe get out of here, only for Janus to reach across the table and still his hands as he goes to pick up the pen again.

“Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“Eaten,” Janus says slowly, mouth stretching into a smile, “lunch, sweetie.”

“Uh—“ no, is the correct answer— “I was going to?”

Janus just gives him a look.

“…no.”

“Mm.” Janus glances at his computer and notebook. “You’re not by any chance attempting to read all of the assignments in one go, are you?”

Roman’s guilty flush seems to answer that question for him. Janus sighs and it’s such an odd mixture of disappointment and fondness Roman hasn’t earned that his brain spits out the only question he actually wants an answer to.

“Why are you here?”

Janus chuckles. “In the library, at this school, or are we already to the point of questioning the very nature of existence?”

Roman just blinks at him.

“Oh, relax, sweetie, I’m teasing.” Janus glances off in the vague direction the asshole wandered off to. He leans a little closer. “I know how…difficult it can be to try and do work when they bother you.”

Roman’s cheeks flush. “Oh, uh…thanks, then.”

Janus waves a hand. “It’s none of their business why you’re doing so much work at once. Even if it does make you skip lunch,” he adds with such a pointed look that Roman can’t help splutter.

“I was going to! And you’re not my mother!”

“No,” Janus purrs, “but like any good partner, I like to make sure my sweetie takes care of themselves.”

Roman does not squeak, despite Janus’s chuckles, but he does start to fiddle with his pen. “I can’t…stop yet.”

“Why ever not?”

“Can you stop,” Roman blurts, scrubbing his hands over his blushing face, “please? For like, two seconds?”

“Sorry, you’re just adorable.”

“Stop, dude, seriously, if you want an actual answer to the question?”

“I’m done,” Janus chuckles, “I’m done, sorry.”

Roman takes a deep breath. He fiddles with the pen. “It’s just—with my dyslexia, it takes a while to…find the, um…”

“Zone?”

“…sure.”

Janus hums in understanding. Then he reaches into his own bag and pulls out a book of his own. “Then we may as well work together until you’re finished.”

Roman blinks. Hi, hello, brain is confused, what just happened in the last five minutes?

Janus waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Sweetie? You okay?”

“Sorry, I’m just—trying to process what happened.” Roman blinks again. “Because it seems like some asshole tried to take my seat, you came up and pretended to be my partner to scare them away, proceeded to badger me about taking care of myself, and now you’re…still here?”

Janus nods. “That’s how I experienced it too, that’s correct.”

“…so now what’re we doing?”

“Well, I’m also going to try and get some work done, you’re going to finish your work, and then we’re going to get lunch.”

“And what about the dude that now thinks we’re partners?”

Janus looks at him and shrugs. “I’m game if you are.”

Roman blinks again. Is…Janus suggesting they fake being in a relationship to, what, defend Roman’s right to sit wherever the fuck he wants for however long in a library?

“What’s in it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Roman says, “what’s in it for you?”

Janus’s fingers still on the book he’s pulled out. He sighs and looks up at Roman.

“How long have you known about your dyslexia?”

Jumping around a bit here, aren’t we? “About six years, why?”

“And you know how to manage it? For you?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That doesn’t mean it goes away,” Janus says softly, “it’s still work, you just…know how to do it now.”

“Yeah, it still takes me time to do things, why—“ Roman’s eyes widen— “oh. Oh, wait, you mean—wait, what do they have against you?”

Janus’s mouth tugs up into a smirk. “How sweet.”

“Shut up,” Roman mumbles, “you know what I mean.”

Janus just winks at him before sobering. “Well,” he says wryly, gesturing at himself, “surely you can understand that…not everyone treats you very well when you aren’t the circumference of a toothpick.”

Oh. They’re those kind of assholes. Something Janus chuckles about when that thought gets out before Roman can stop them.

“Quite. I can manage them, but it’s still work.” He looks at Roman. “Maybe we can split the load?”

“I’m down with that.”

“Wonderful. Now,” Janus says, mock sternly, “get back to work. We have lunch to get.”

Roman chuckles. “Sure, sure, don’t ask to borrow my notes.”

“I would never, I just forget things like a cool person and make things up that the professor likes to hear.”

Yeah, this is gonna go just fine.

As it turns out, it does. Roman won’t lie, he was…skeptical about the viability of this plan of theirs. He’s read the stories. He knows how this works. He knows about the misunderstandings and whether it’s a bet or a dare, something goes wrong.

But…nothing does.

Watching Janus tear anyone to shreds is entertaining enough in class, where Roman gives up on taking debate notes and just watches because goddamn, but when he gets to stand there and just glare at some ableist while Janus verbally decimates them? Poetic cinema. He debates sneaking some popcorn into his jacket pocket but that would take away from the power of his glare.

And it is nice to have someone else do the work of glaring assholes away from his table when he’s working on reading. He would be lying if he said that actually having someone else to talk to isn’t part of it. It’s so much easier to keep track of where he’s messing up so he can focus on it during his exercises later.

“You know,” Janus remarks as they leave the library one day, “you can ask the professors for editable pdfs.”

“Huh?”

“For your font stuff.” Janus nods toward his backpack. “I know you like to change the font so you can read it better, most of them have editable copies of the materials.”

“Not for the eBooks and scans and stuff.”

Janus huffs, waving his hand. “How do you think they get the audio transcripts for the recorded versions? They have to transcribe it anyway, just ask for those.”

Roman stops. “How…how do you know those exist?”

Janus just taps the side of his nose and winks.

“Can…can you do that?”

“Of course.” Janus links his arm through Roman’s. “Anything for you.”

That shouldn’t do what it does to Roman’s chest.

Because yeah, okay, maybe Janus is…really cute.

Like, unfairly cute.

No one should be able to rock that hat all the time. And the gloves. And the pocket watch. And the curly hair. And the attitude. And the impressive vocabulary. And the razor-sharp wit. And he actually knows how to flirt! What is flirting? All Roman knows is Gay Panic™ and Suffering™. What is this? Why is it allowed?

And why, oh why, did Janus have to be the one that started the fake-dating idea?

Because here’s the thing. It would be so easy to just be friends with Janus. It would! They’re already friends now, fake-dating kind of does that to you. And Janus, despite what he wants everyone else to believe, is a fucking dork. His actual laugh is squeaky and bubbly and ugh, Roman could drown in it. And he’s really kind. It’s not the same breed of kind that Roman’s used to, but goddamn, Janus is so sweet when he lets himself be. And it’s been so long since Roman had like, an actual friend…

But it would also be so easy to be more than friends with Janus. To actually be able to take him out for dates and not just lunch at their janky cafeteria. To be able to spend time together that isn’t just for show, or platonic, or just hanging out ranting about stupid dead supposed-to-be-smart people.

Again, Roman’s read the stories. He knows how this is supposed to go.

So when he takes a little longer to pack up one day, enough that Janus notices and eases himself back down into his seat with a soft, real, ‘what’s wrong, sweetie, let me help,’ Roman prepares the bittersweet ‘nothing, I’m fine,’ and to swallow down everything real.

But instead…

“Can we, um, actually date?”

Janus blinks. “Come again, sweetie?”

Roman fiddles with the buckle on his bag. “I, um, I really appreciate what we’ve been doing, and I, um, I’m super happy being your friend…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“…but I, um—“ god, why are words so hard?— “I think I would actually like to try…dating you. For real.”

He peeks up nervously at Janus.

“Is…is that okay?”

Janus sits there, silent. He blinks a few times. Then a slow, real smile spreads across his face.

“Roman,” he says softly, almost too quiet, even in the hush of the library, “why do you think I proposed this idea in the first place?”

Oh.

Oh.

Roman blinks. “Wait, you—you?”

A pretty flush covers Janus’s face. “Well, I…was planning to ask you normally, but then I saw you being absolutely tormented and…panicked.”

“You panicked?”

He throws his hands up. “Well, what was I supposed to do? The most gorgeous person in my seminar was being bullied and I was supposed to just let it happen?”

Wait. Back up. Roman is what?

“And yes, maybe I...wanted an excuse to be your friend first, but as I said, I panicked and so—“

“You—wait, you think I’m pretty?”

Janus stops, mouth open, before he’s scoffing. “Roman, have you seen yourself?”

“Uh—“

“At least you’re pretty,” Janus mutters under his breath, “pretty and dumb, but pretty.”

“Hey!”

“You can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time, sweetie.”

“Oh, says the man whose idea was to fake-date me because you wanted to actually ask me out!”

“I will not be lectured on dramatics from a theater kid.”

“That’s ex-theater kid to you.”

“Oh, you know once you go, you never come back.”

Roman giggles. Then he’s laughing. Janus joins in and oh, this is much better than shoving feelings down and pretending they don’t exist.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“No,” Janus purrs, reaching over to boop the end of Roman’s nose, “I’m your fucking dork.”

Oh. Oh, that sounds…really good. Roman’s chest is really warm now, when did that happen? Janus smiles too.

“So…dinner?”

“You’re paying.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

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If you want to be added/removed from the taglist, let me know!

[tedturneriscrazy]

🎶Knock, Knock, Knockin' On Hooty's Door🎵

I wonder if anything will happen in this episode.🙂

(I say as if I didn't watch the episode twice before going to bed and writing this post)

I don't think I'll ever not be amused by the way Hooty just...does things with his face

Seems like he found a thesaurus at some point

Okay so it's canonically spelled "Hootsifer," good to know

Also, this is really all we get of Lilith, huh?

His little hoot/coo at Lilith's letter❤❤❤

To borrow a meme format: If I had a nickel for every time Alex Hirsch was involved in a show where one of the characters was experiencing pubescent voice cracks, I'd have two nickels, which isn't very much but it's weird that it happened twice

Eda's face🤣

As much as this bit is played for laughs, Eda's clearly still shaken by what happened last episode

Jeez, Luz, priorities /j

Pictured: Hooty

The way King talks about being pelleted implies this is something Hooty does on the regular

Hooty's plan to help King is literally a Buzzfeed quiz? Okay then

Betcha never expected lore from Hooty, eh?

"DO NOT INTERRUPT"

Officially a "type of worm"

The dance being a grievous insult wasn't exactly from nowhere, but still funny nonetheless

WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING COCCOON

Tiny Nose playing Switch definitely seems to be drawing from Dana's real life experiences

Wait, Hooty and Tiny Nose are friends?

Well shit, turns out she could use magic this whole time. Guess her going Super Saiyan wasn't just the power glyph.

I am extremely skeptical of your medical credentials, TN

I have so many questions about the methodology they used for the blood test(s)

I think Hooty may have misinterpreted what King was looking for

I'm still amazed at how King has had, and continues to have, moments in the show with some of the greatest emotional weight

Ooh, sound powers!

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CRUMBLE!!!"

It just occurred to me that that segment consisted mostly of Alex Hirsch talking to himself

Hello not-at-all obvious setup

Today I learned that Hooty is the baker of the house. Maybe he'd critique Amity's fairy pie.

Aaaaand there's the sleep inducing

Oh shit

In hindsight the Owl Beast being part of a dream sequence is rather obvious

Wow, Eda, tell us how you really feel about the Owl Beast

Oh we're just gonna ride aboard the Trauma Express today, huh?

Oh, I guess Lilith did make an appearance, after all

Damn, Gwen, not even looking

Oh shit dad issues

Sandy Cohen?! (To anyone who gets that reference, hi. How are your 30s treating you?)

Well, I know who Peter Gallagher voices now, anyway

Oh dear...

(Also, bright flashing lights triggering the curse? There's an epilepsy allegory in here somwhere)

Blood and eye injury? Gotta stretch that Y7 rating

Now we have some context for that look on Eda's face when Lilith mentioned their dad: good old fashioned guilt!

I desparately want to make a "Dude, you're getting a Dell!" joke, but I'm better than that

New memory! Raine!

Oh no...

I get the feeling I'll hate this part, too

They were exes!😢 Guess the fandom called that one

The reasoning for them being exes is understandable, all too real, and goddamn heartbreaking

That said, the fact they never stopped loving each other🥺😢😭

I do hope we can see Raine again under less...traumatic circumstances. Maybe that wedding that was mentioned?

Oh shit, are we getting into the Owl Beast's memories?!?! What a tweest!

Bet nobody expected Cloaked Moonface to show up in the frickin Hooty episode

(Also, holy shit I briefly forgot this was the Hooty episode)

Who is this mysterious cloaked figure? And why are they so tall and long?

So the curse was a sealed beast this whole time. Damn.

And it was just picked up as beach junk to sell as a trinket. So much for it being connected to Belos. (Not that people will stop trying to do so)

Who had "experiencing sympathy for the Owl Beast" on their Bingo cards for this episode? Yeah, me neither.

And here we have the necessary Eda coming to terms with her curse segment. More accurately, Eda and the curse coming to terms with each other.

Goddamnit why does it have to be cute

"It's like sandpaper" IT'S LIKE A CAT I FUCKING CAN'T

Insert Steamed Hams reference here to kill the mood

New transformation!

Oh no she's hot!

No, Hooty, you made it surprisingly much, much better!

She might have a problem pushing people away and holding onto guilt, but Eda always knows that she looks damn good

Oh right, Luz having girl problems. Fuck, so much is happening in this episode!

"Cotton-candy-haired Goddess" LUZ! 🤣

Attuned to other people's emotions = being a fucking creeper

Oh Luz, what happened to you back home?

Also, 99.999% certain Amity would love your cheesiness

That's...rather morbid, Hooty

So much lore development, including the fact the Owl House has a basement

Classic inanimate object silhouette fakeout gag. Subversion in 3...2...1...

There it is!

I can't imagine being pelleted is a fun experience.

Honestly I have so many questions about how Hooty got Amity there in the first place, but I'm not so sure I actually want to know the answers to any of them...

Cue much panicking

Wow, I'm really getting some Into the Bunker flashbacks

Oh this is gonna be amazing isn't it

I commend Luz for not actually dropping dead of embarrassment

Seriously, how can Hooty set all this up so fast yet not hold a pen?!?!?!

Poor Luz, she thinks this is destroying her chances

Meanwhile Amity is just "Oh, Titan, is this actually happening?!"

The way she's fixing her hair!❤

Goddamnit Luz let this play out, she's so clearly into this!

"Again?!" Okay who do I have to kill?

Luz is luzing it

Nooooooo....

JUST TALK FOR FUCK'S SAKE (aka how like 95% of issues in literally any plot could be solved)

Noooo Amity's so heartbroken right now💔

This isn't what either of them wanted!

To be fair, Hooty, Luz had a part in this too. Not that she can be blamed entirely. Poor thing clearly had some awful experiences back home...

Now Hooty is McFucking losing it

Why did I think he was gonna say "Looks like I'm gonna have to JUMP!" I think I've watched too much Homestar Runner (jk there's no such thing)

Those pulsating organs are still gross

Eda swooping in to save her son (No, really, he actually is now)

I'll say things get weird when Hooty gets upset!

Yes, King! Save them with your voice powers!

Damn that is some romantic lighting, and Luz is enjoying the eye candy (cotton candy, if you will)

Luz's reaction to Harpy!Eda is the family-friendly summation of how the fandom has reacted.

Hooty really just tearing up the landscape in remorse

Mother-daughter moment about love life!

I appreciate not just Eda's encouragement but her actually asking Luz what she wanted

God, Eda is best mom

Also, OH FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING?!

OH SHIT

THESE ADORABLY AWKWARD NERDS❤💜💙

"I'm not as cool as you think" could be interpreted as self-deprecating, but here it seems...oddly reassuring?

The way Luz eloquently says how she wants Amity in her future...beautiful❤

Luz making some good faces

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YOU CUTE DORKS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

THERE IT IS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LOOK HOW HAPPY SHE IS

WE WERE LOSING OUR SHIT OVER A PECK ON THE CHEEK THREE WEEKS AGO AND NOW LOOK WHERE WE ARE HOLY FUCK

Awkwardness is still there, but that's to be expected

BET Y'ALL DIDN'T EXPECT THAT TRAILER SHOT TO BE IN THE HOOTY EPISODE HUH

THE WAY LUZ RUBS AMITY'S HAND😭😭😭😭😭

(And yeah, it's gonna still be scary, but only because it promises to be so wonderful)

Let's give it up for Hootsifer, goddamn!

Let'a also appreciate just how fucking funny it is that Lumity becomes official in the Hooty episode

Fus ro WEH!

Hooty actually saying "Luz's new GF" out loud...

In just about any other show the love interests getting together would be a climax/culmination of the entire plot. Here? It's actually used to advance the plot, and that is brilliant!

Dana Terrace and the crew really just knocking it out of the park again and again, huh

"They're adorable, and deserve all the happiness!" Well said, Hootsifer. Well said.

Probably for the best they had Hooty promise that. As much as what happened/progressed, there was a lot of property damage.

OH SHIT ONCE AGAIN

King's dad/relative! And he's voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson!

GODDAMNIT HOOTY

Wow. Just...wow. This episode.

King has voice powers! Harpy!Eda! Lumity are girlfriends for real!!!!

How do you pack so much into a single episode?! And so expertly?!

I had my suspicions before, but this confirms it: The Owl House is the greatest show of all time.

And we have two episodes left until the hiatus! And 11 episodes in the season after that! What are we in for?!?!?!

I, for one, can't wait to find out!

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 2: heading in

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing:  college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, sports au, college au

warnings: swearing

word count: 7k

copyright morkleemelon all rights reserved

"And we can see here in the figure that the data currently suggests-"

Your pen flies across the notebook page, desperately trying to capture everything your economics professor said in multicolor vigor. Jotting down the figure frantically, your eyes dart back and forth between the powerpoint screen and your paper, high ponytail bouncing up and down from the motion.

Being on scholarship means that you can never let your grades fall past a certain point or else they'd give the money to someone else. As harsh as it is, without the financial aid, you would not be able to continue to go to school. One of the only things that motivates you to work harder than your sleeping peers, sometimes, is the looming fear of becoming a jobless dropout, never able to achieve your dreams. 

In a lot of ways, not having money is already bad enough, but the thought of not even being able to earn it in the future is even worse.

"Does anyone know how this company should manage production costs?," your professor asks the crowd of tired students.

You immediately shoot your hand in the air. You know it. This answer was in the textbook reading last night it's-

"Yes" Your professor points behind you.

You slowly set your hand down, disappointed, turning around to see who could've raised their hand before you did.

"They should modernize their marketing efforts with more affordable tools and focus on reducing supply costs," the boy answers expertly.

That's exactly what I was going to say.

Examining his face a little more, something about him seems a little familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Looking around at who he was sitting with, you begin to piece it together.

"He must be one of the Lee's if he's sitting between Ten and Jeno" you ponder to yourself, taking one final look at the boy, "is he... Haechan?". Thinking back to last spring, one of your teammates had a huge crush on the one called 'Haechan'. She always gushed about his fluffy brown hair, handsome face, and how he asked to borrow her biology notes once. You weren't exactly well versed with the university's popular people and honestly, the fact that this school has an 'F4' called "the Lees" is pretty funny to you.

This boy's hair is blonde, though, brushed down into a fringe and slightly messy from, you're assuming, taking off the hood of his sweatshirt before class. Glancing down, you take notice of the mess of white bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

Right, they just had a hockey game. He doesn't have brown hair so this must be-

"That's exactly right, Mark. Nicely done" the professor praises.

Mark. You note the name to yourself, turning back to the board as the professor continues with the lecture.

"Dude she's looking at you," Ten whisper-yells to his younger friend, nudging him sharply in the ribs.

Mark doesn't dare look down at you yet, already feeling his cheeks grow warmer with each passing second. He feels your gaze pull away from him and finally frees the breath he was previously holding captive. Shoving back at the senior boy, his gaze flutters back to you like it usually does during this class, however much to his strong denial. 

You always sit in the first row, colored pens and highlighters arranged neatly upon your favorite desk. 

Mark watches the way your hair bobs back and forth as you move your head with keen eyes. The delicate gold glint of a necklace clasp at the nape of your neck fascinates the junior boy's attention more than the mundane lecture ever could.

Spotting the slight smile on the older boy's face and the direction of his gaze, Jeno laughs quietly to himself, happy that something interesting is finally happening during the boring lesson. Leaning over behind Mark's back, he gives Ten a silent high five.

"You're a simp" Jeno whispers in Mark's ear, eager to provoke him. Mark slaps the blue-haired boy's face away.

"Fuck off," Mark whispers harshly back as Jeno and Ten laugh to themselves in the lecture hall. He habitually glances back to your focused form. And this is nothing short of how class usually goes for them: Mark fawns over you 'secretly' whilst you haven't the slightest clue. On either side, his friends tease him endlessly for it.

"Yuna and I are planning something for you guys," Ten persists.

Mark's eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the older's ominous words. The professor's voice drones on in the background as his attention shifts to Ten.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it, man". Ten smirks, smacking a firm hand on the confused boy's shoulder.

"Don't do anything weird," Mark warns, recalling the time when the senior had planned on starting a fist fight outside of your dorm building last semester in hopes to gain your attention and provide an excuse for Mark to talk to you. Although the thought was there, no it wasn't.

The hour ticks by and exhausted students groan in relief as the professor wraps up the stale lesson on fundamental economics. A mass shuffle of notebook pages flipping closed and backpacks zipping up fills the hall as students make their way out, eager to do anything but be there.

The Lee's always gather for lunch at this time at the basketball courts, attracting an impressive crowd of envious guys and adoring girls at the sidelines. Although the place is fairly beaten down and otherwise unimpressive, the Lee's choose to be there which consequently deems the courts the coolest lunch spot on campus.

Putting his things away into his trusty black Jansport bag, Mark gets ready to head down to the courts to meet up with Haechan like they always do until he feels a hand unexpectedly grip his left shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Some people are gonna join us for lunch today," Ten discloses casually, keeping his gaze forward as the line of students in front of them slowly file their way out of the crowded room.

"Oh, who?" Mark questions. It's not like it's rare for other people come hang out with them, in fact, it's almost always the case. But the fact that Ten is specifically telling him beforehand feels suspicious. Another strong hand grips his other shoulder as Jeno's navy blue hair comes into view.

"Don't worry about it man. You got meal points left for this week? Lend me some," the younger boy expertly diverts.

"Yeah..."

"Let's hurry though, Haechan is probably there waiting already. I told the brat to get food for us early today". Ten ushers Mark forward and pushes his way through the herd of people.

"Aight," Mark sighs in confused defeat, picking up his pace to keep up with the senior. There's definitely something weird going on, but he doesn't have the energy to pry further. 

Then again, has he ever lived a day where his friends aren't doing some sort of weird shit?

"Thank you, professor," you smile and bow politely.

"Thank you, y/n, enjoy the rest of your day," the older man smiles back, waving you off as he packs up his lecture notes. It's small things like this that you always make sure to do to make others' lives a little better.

After all, the best thing to give-better than any monetary gift- is kindness. Right?

Your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your frayed denim shorts and you reach to check the notification.

Der sum hoez in this houz:

Yuna: guys!! Let's grab lunch somewhere new today! :DD

Hope: yassss ;););)

You: oh why? The caf has chicken nuggets today :(

This is definitely suspicious -you, Yuna, and your other friends, Lisa and Hope, always ate together at the round table in the university's better dining hall nicknamed "the caf". It's been your unbroken tradition since freshman year and the lunch lady at the caf even likes you enough to give you extra servings sometimes.

Yuna: we can still have the nuggets but Ten knows a cool place we can sit! He says he already got the food so we don't have to pay today ;)

Free food?

Your inner Mr.Krabs reveals himself as you perk immediately at the mention of her boyfriend paying for lunch. Neither guilt nor modesty had time to catch up as your thumbs rush to type a speedy reply.

You: I'm there. Where at?

Yuna: I'm coming to your classroom rn! We can walk together

Lisa: Hope and I are coming from bio :) excited

You: lol why does everyone know but me

You: is it gonna be weird with us third wheeling you yuna?

You: if y'all start kissy kissy touchy touchy I might puke just saying

Yuna: HAHAHA XD

Yuna: don't worry some of ten's friends might be there too

Oh. To be honest, you're caught off guard at your best friend's last message. Ten has been over to your shared dorm a few times and you've exchanged enough awkward greetings to call him an acquaintance at least. But generally, his friend group and yours stay separate.

Not that there is any actual beef there, but, no pun intended, nobody's tried to break the ice yet.

Closing the group chat as you reach the entrance of the economics building, you hold a hand up to block the glaring rays of summer sun from your eyes. The sudden brightness harshly contrasts the musty dark of the lecture hall, making you squint in discomfort.

"Y/n!" a familiar voice calls out. A flash of platinum blonde hair and Chanel perfume filled your senses as Yuna throws your smaller body into a crushing, sweaty hug.

"EWw!" you yelp, shoving the taller girl away from you half-playfully, catching the attention of a few concerned passer-bys.

You nod your head at them in a shy apology.

Yuna, seriously.

The guilty party laughs, the musical sound travelling through the humid air like a refreshing breeze. Your best friend sticks out her elbow for you to link your arm through.

Eyeing her with short-lived contempt, your lips break into a smile as you slip your forearm around hers, unable to be actually mad at your best friend.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"You'll see. It's Ten's spot"

"Hi-his spot?!" You stop in your tracks, wondering why you were going to eat where Ten dealt weed.

Since when did he deal weed though?

"Not that kind of spot!," Yuna cries out, smacking a manicured hand over the top of her forehead as to not ruin her perfect foundation, "he's not like that!".

"Right good," you scoff.

The summer heat swelters as Yuna leads you down campus towards the sports center. It's early September and Seoul is notoriously hot.

Ice cream vendors with big, striped umbrellas litter the streets, calling out for business from sweaty pedestrians who crave a moment of sweet, cold relief. The sky tints a beautiful shade of blue with fluffy wisps of white clouds dotting its never-ending canvas. No matter how hot the weather is, the day is undeniably beautiful.

You don't ask Yuna more about where you're headed, accepting that your best friend likes to be spontaneous and that her boyfriend was paying for your food. This is more than enough for you to follow her down the sketchy alleyway shortcut to the basketball courts. Sometimes you wonder if you'd be really easy to kidnap...

The alley opens up to reveal a worn-out basketball court planted in the middle of a grassy area. Looking around, you noticed there are quite a few people there, most of them unfamiliar to you.

They scatter across the grass in groups, eating and chatting casually amongst their friends atop their patterned picnic blankets. You catch the gaze of a group of girls sitting at the edge of the court; they eye you up and down, taking you aback with their lack of subtlety.

Breaking the awkward eye-contact, you suddenly feel very out of place.

"Hey!" Yuna calls out, slipping her arm out of yours to wave at a group of people sitting at the other side of the court from the judgmental girls.

Her hand slips into yours, snapping you out of your uncomfortable dilemma, pulling you towards the group she waved to. A big willow tree stretches towards the sky and casts a precious spot of shade over the area. Immediately, you spot Hope and Lisa as they wave to you and you let out a breath of relief.

At least I'm not alone, maybe I won't be so awkward now.

You recognize Ten's face and you give him a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Scanning over the rest of the group carefully, you faintly recognize the other boys sitting under the tree.

The boy with the blue hair and the fitted white tee- that's Jeno.

Fluffy brown hair-definitely Haechan.

Your eyes flit to the next boy and you're taken aback when he's already staring at you. His ashy blonde fringe hair, almost grey, seems dearly familiar. His eyes widen before quickly looking away.

He's part of the Lee's... bandaged hands and that hair- that's Mark, the dude who stole your answer from earlier.

The little devil on your shoulder whispers to hold a small grudge. The little angel on the other argues that it was never your question and you shouldn't be so petty. Right, kindness is the best virtue. You will let it go.

You and Yuna reach the edge of their picnic blanket and your best friend immediately goes to sit by Ten who doesn't hesitate to pull her hips smoothly into his lap.

You look away in embarrassment. Good for her for finding love, but by golly are you painfully single.

Eyeing the space on the picnic blanket, Hope and Lisa are almost strategically sitting at the end chatting with Jeno so there is no reasonable way you could sit next to them. Setting down your bag awkwardly, you debate where you should sit, silently cursing at Hope and Lisa for not leaving a space for you. Maybe coming here was a mistake because you feel kind of left out-

"Oh, here," a small voice lets out. You look up to see Mark getting up and moving his stuff out of the way and clearing a space for you next to him.

"Ah, thank you!" You smile, kneeling down to sit in the empty space.

Thank God.

Glancing at his face, a blush even Maybelline would envy rests on his cheeks as his gaze remains glued to the food in his hands.

The first thing you notice is how handsome he is up close. You didn't get a good look at him in the lecture hall, but his face is a perfect mix of feminine and masculine beauty. His eyes are soft and round, but his jawline sharp and angled. The most chiseled cheekbones you've ever seen are handsomely defined under the mosaic of shadows and light created by the branches of the willow tree. A slight, shy smile graced his delicate, pink lips.

He's super cute. I take back everything I thought in lecture.

"Hey, welcome!," a sudden high-pitched voice rips your attention away from ogling the blonde boy. Turning your face, you see Haechan on your other side eagerly holding out a hand for you to shake. You take his hand and he shakes it vigorously, "I'm Haechan nice to meet you! What's your name?".

"I'm y/n," you reply with a smile. He's really outgoing, huh.

"Y/n what year are you?"

"Oh I'm a sophomore this year"

"Ayyy! Jeno and I are sophomores too," the friendly brunette slaps the other boy on the arm, "say hi, Jeno".

"Hey, I'm Jeno". He gives a heart-fluttering eye-smile and you could hear hushed gasps and coos ensue from the onlooking girls across the court.

"Hi, y/n," you respond shyly.

Dang, these guys are all so good-looking.

You always hear about the 'Lees' and their 'godly' visuals, but you never truly paid attention. Yet now that you're sitting with them at their cool-people-only hangout spot, you have no choice but to admit how exactly spot-on those descriptions were.

"Here, y/n" Haechan hands you a paper tray full of chicken nuggets.

"Nice! Thank you," you cheer, taking the food perhaps a little too excitedly. Working out and training nearly everyday means you're inevitably hungry most of the time. Not to mention, your stomach always rumbles at the sight of your all-time favorite food.

Digging into the free food reward, you turn back to Mark who hasn't said anything to you yet.

"What's your name?" you ask. Technically, you already know it, but you don't really know a better way to start a conversation.

Visibly surprised, Mark chokes on his chicken.

You let out a single note of laughter at his unexpected coughing before slapping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself.

"Are you okay?" you ask stupidly.

"Bruh," Haechan teases with a smirk, amused at his best friend's embarrassment.

Mark nods quickly with a hand covering his mouth as he continues coughing. Unsure of what to do, you reach over to pat him on the back firmly.

"Here, dude". Jeno tosses Mark a filled water bottle, the older boy accepting it gratefully, gulping down the water like his life depends on it (which it... actually does).

Gasping in relief as he sets the bottle down, Mark looks back at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips. You realize your hand is still on his back and you quickly snatch your hand away, suddenly flustered by the contact.

"I'm Mark," he finally answers, voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"Hi Mark, I'm y/n" you giggle.

He looks absolutely hilarious with water dribbling down his chin and cheeks as red as fire. There is something intensely endearing about him as he looks down, front teeth biting down on his bottom lip in embarrassment.

"What year are you?," you continue.

"Uh-I'm a Junior"

"Oh nice! What do you study?"

"Uh-business and sports management"

"Wow! Wait you're In Econ31 right?"

"Yeah I am," Mark smiles.

"I thought I recognized you! I'm in that class too," you exclaim. Usually, you aren't terribly sociable with people you just met, but there's something about the softness of his voice that makes him easy to talk to. That and the way he's just choked on a chicken nugget in front of you at your first meeting- you have little to nothing to lose.

"Oh yeah I-I've seen you around sometimes"

"Yeah we've seen you around sometimes," Ten calls out, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Yuna laughs and hits his chest in warning.

"Shut up!" Mark grabs a nugget from his tray and chucks it at the older boy. Like a slow-motion scene in a movie, Ten catches the piece of chicken between his teeth and flashes a wink back at the flustered junior.

You burst out in laughter at the interaction, slapping a hand onto your knee at the dumbfounded look on Mark's face.

Mark feels his heart clench at the sound of your bright laughter filling the air. You gasp with glee, one hand slapping your knee repeatedly and the other gripping your fork. Truth be told, he is freaking out inside. And this is not how he imagined you would meet. 

All thoughts about Ten abandoned, a wide smile spreads back onto his face as his eyes scan across your laughing form. You sport a casual outfit consisting of a grey t-shirt and denim shorts like you usually do. A simple gold chain hangs from your neck, tucked away under the collar of your shirt. Up close, Mark feels even more drawn to you than ever before.

Beautiful as ever.

"I-I can't breathe," you wheeze, "what just happened?"

"My talent," Ten states, moving his arms from around Yuna's waist to hold them up in a 'well duh' shrug.

"Nah bro, it was a good throw from me," Mark cuts in, holding up a hand to stop the gloating boy.

"Nah bro, it was a good catch from me," Ten sasses back, moving Yuna off his lap to kneel up. You meet Yuna's eyes and you both hold back laughter at the ridiculous argument.

"Nah bro" Mark moves onto his knees as well.

"Nah bro's," Haechan suddenly interjects, "It was me. I have telepathy and I moved the chicken". Haechan promptly stands up and does a body wave, posing with a finger gun pointed over the slope of his nose to his forehead.

You laugh silently between the three boys who are suddenly all standing as they argue over who was responsible for the nugget trick. You had just met these guys a few minutes ago, but you're more confused and intrigued at them than you've ever been with anyone.

Look at you go, making new friends and everything!

"Guys..." Jeno tries, but his low voice isn't nearly loud enough to be heard over the chaos.

The boys point accusing fingers at each other like in a Renaissance painting. You scooch your way over to the other girls to get out of their way, bringing your food with you.

"You're dating..." You gesture your fork at Ten who was is caught in a three-way head lock with Mark and Haechan.

"Yeah". Yuna's face remains expressionless as she nonchalantly pops another piece of chicken into her mouth. After dating Ten for almost five months now, she is well aware of what the expression 'boys will be boys' really means.

"Are they always like this?" Hope asks, bewildered. Lisa just laughs on the side, enjoying the spontaneous fight more than she should. Jeno gives up, laying down to stare at the sky and wonder why his friends are like this.

Click

Your ears perk at  strange noises coming from behind you. Turning around, you notice that several of the girls you saw earlier are now pulling large, fancy cameras out of their book bags. Baffled, you watch incredulously as they shamelessly snap photos of the tussling, oblivious boys.

"What the heck?," you gawk. You haven't been here but twenty minutes and it's already one surprise after the other.

"Tell me about it. Those weirdos are these guys' fans, the 'Lovelees' as they call themselves," Yuna explains, "You would not believe how crazy they can get. Remember when I had to put all my socials on private a few months ago? It's because they found out I was dating Ten".

"Right, I remember that" you nod your head sympathetically. Your eyes move between the unsuspecting boys and the audacious crowd of girls. Maybe you haven't known them for long, but the Lees seem like a regular group of guys. Admittedly, they are above average in the visual department (and in the strange department), but the existence of the Lovelees is really unnerving. Is it just you?

One particular girl at the forefront stares you down intently. Her hair is a mousy brown with two striking streaks of bright red down her bangs in a distasteful take on E-girl style hair. Too-light foundation is packed onto her skin and you winced internally at the severe creasing by her nose. Black eyebrows not matching her hair, her fake eyelashes bat at you threateningly.

"What's up with her?". You are genuinely confused. Why does she look like she wants to murder you?

"She's so scary," Hope's eyebrows knit in worry.

"Yeah, what's with her? She's staring at y/n," Lisa suddenly adds, attention turning to the concerning conversation.

"That's Hillary, the club president or something," Yuna confirms with a shudder, "she's super psycho about Mark. Definitely stay away from her".

"Gotcha... but why is she looking at me like that? Is it just me?"

Hillary's creepy stare never leaves your face and you feel chills run down your spine like a thousand invisible spiders. Generally speaking, you sometimes shy from even ordering food over the phone. Being under her flaming gaze makes you want to shrivel up like a raisin.

If someone could write a story about Seoul University campus life, you'd for sure be a background character. Attracting negative attention to yourself for no reason is surely a new feeling and unequivocally uncomfortable... perhaps because there is any attention on you at all?

"Well for one," Yuna smiles, poking an accusing finger into your side, "you seem to be getting along with these guys pretty well. Especially Mark". The blonde wiggles her perfectly threaded brows at you. Flustered, you shove a nugget in her mouth before she could say more.

"What are you even talking about, we literally just met". You fight to keep your voice steady and expression unaffected, but alas you can't stop the heat from spreading onto your unwilling cheeks. Admittedly, it's been a while since you've gone out with a guy. More honestly, you haven't really dated anyone since you came to campus last year. So needless to say, your single self is a little bit flustered to be thrown into the notion that you even have a chance to be with a super popular, charming guy like Mark.

You shake your head to clear the ridiculous thoughts.

Let's not err on the side of desperation today.

Peering back at the crazy fangirl who you now know as Hillary, you're relieved to find her piercing gaze has shifted from boring holes in your skull to her cell phone and she types away at lightning speed.

"I have a feeling that he likes you, y/n," Yuna presses. Hope and Lisa giggle and nod in agreement, exchanging knowing glances at each other. 

You don't have ample time to ponder more as your attention is ripped away by the fighting boys. They've shifted from the shade of the willow tree to the basketball court, disregarding all onlookers and fighting like their lives depended on it.

"Let's go. Rooftop. Right now!" Haechan screeches, taking a leap at Ten while Mark struggles to hold him back.

"Fight me here, bro," Ten taunts, "we all know I'm built different". The sass in his voice gives Haechan the strength to break away from Mark's grasp and tackle the senior boy. All eyes glue to the two boys rolling around on the hot pavement, screaming.

"Yuna, can you-" Jeno starts, eyes closed as he lay on the blanket listening to his friends beat each other up.

"Yeah," Yuna gives the tired boy an apologetic pat on the knee. "Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul".

Her boyfriend's entire body immediately freezes at the sound of his full name. Letting Haechan go from his chokehold, Ten scurries back over to his spot on the picnic blanket to kneel by an unamused Yuna like a scolded dog. "I'm sorry".

You suppress another laugh. This... this is what the cool kids are like? You were really nervous for nothing. Mark shuffles back next to you, supporting a limping Haechan who insists he's fine.

"Sorry girls. They're not... actually no, they are usually like this," Jeno apologizes, "Hope we didn't scare you away".

"No, actually. I think you guys are really... funny. It's cool how comfortable you all are". You smile at the hockey players. Weird as they may be, you don't feel uncomfortable.

"She thinks you're cool!" Haechan cries, slapping Mark on the back.

"Shut up!" Mark smacks the back of the younger's head, ready for another fight already.

"But don't you guys think it's weird we haven't met earlier? We always see the hockey team around our practices but I think this is our first time officially talking," Hope suddenly points out the elephant in the room.

"Yeah I guess that's true," Haechan ponders, "to be honest, we didn't think you guys liked us very much... or let me rephrase that- we were kinda scared to approach you".

"YOU were scared to approach US," Lisa exclaims in shock, "did you forget that you four are, like, the most popular guys on campus or what?".

The four boys look amongst each other blankly. "No, but we thought...," Haechan starts.

"... that figure skaters hated hockey players," Mark finishes. Silent glances are exchanged between all parties as this new information is revealed.

At the sheer awkwardness of the situation, you decide to interrupt the silence with light laughter. "Why would we hate you?"

"You- agh," Haechan's reasoning is cut off by a sharp jab to the ribs from Mark. No way is he going to let the blabbermouth sophomore spoil that they stalked your Facebook last year and found your post.

"I mean you all seem really cool and," Mark saves, looking at you, "I'm really glad we got to meet you today. But we were just... intimidated before".

You raise an eyebrow and your eyes meet Yuna's, Hope's, and Lisa's who shared similar expressions.

"Babe, I'm intimidating?" Yuna asks her boyfriend, peering into his eyes. Ten promptly places a hand at the back of her neck and brings her in for a deep kiss. Everyone in the group groans in disapproval and you hope the sour expression on your face isn't too obvious. Why, Ten. Why.

"Uh.. ok then," you divert, "I was never a fan of hockey itself, to be frank. The sport, not the team. And maybe I've been annoyed at you guys for hogging the ice sometimes, but I've never ever hated you! Don't worry haha".

"Bro what?!" Haechan cries, "hockey is the greatest sport of all time! It's all about strategy, speed, strength, and skills. If anything, figure skating doesn't have a point".

You gasp in full-offense. Sure, you just gave your honest opinion on their sport and it was only fair that they give theirs, but that one burns. Before you can make your counterargument, the boy next to you beats you to it.

Tapping the back of his hand to Haechan's arm, Mark's next words made your heart skip a beat: "dude, you don't know what you're talking about," he turned to look into your eyes, "it's beautiful".

Mark's eyes are a deep brown color, you notice, and they sparkle gold in the light streaming past the branches of the willow tree. Softly, they peer into yours, bringing with them a rare kindness that pinches at your chest.

"Thank you" you smile at him. Is your face always this warm?

"Okayyy," Jeno finally opts to sit up, "now that we've determined that we don't hate each other and we're all cool, are we good to be friends?". A chorus of "Heck yeah"'s and "duh"'s filled the picnic area and your heart swells with happiness. You look back at Mark and smiled again.

New friends

"You should come eat with us here more often," Mark suggests to you, warm gaze making your heart strain for the hundredth time that afternoon. What is happening? "All of you should," he corrects, looking away shyly.

"Yeah we're here everyday," Ten adds. Looking down to Yuna who had laid her head in his lap, he stroked her hair lovingly. "You should come hang out with us whenever".

"I'd like that," you grin.

"Let's make a group chat. Everyone gimme your numbers," Haechan declares.

While the brunette went around collecting numbers, you chatted with Mark, wanting to get to know him more. You quickly find that he's so very endearing, blushing and fiddling with the bandages on his fingers at your every word. His words are kind and he listens to you thoughtfully when you speak. Talking to him is so easy, surprisingly easy, and you feel the conversation unfold out effortlessly. You hardly notice as the minutes of your lunch break tick to an end.

"That's crazy! There was this one time that-" the jarring sound of your phone alarm cuts you off. Scrambling for your phone, you tap on the screen desperately to shut it off.

"Sorry guys," you apologize, "Lisa, oh my goodness, it's time for us to go to Frankie's".

Lisa checks her own watch and gasps, "Oh gosh! We gotta go guys".

"Who's Frankie?" Mark questions, eyes slightly crestfallen.

"No," you laugh while picking up your bag, "Frankie's. The diner down the street next to the lake. We work there".

Haechan, Ten, and Jeno crack up silently at their sensitive friend. 

"It was nice meeting you all!" you exclaim, "It was nice meeting you, Mark".

"Great meeting you, y/n. Hope to see you around," he waves back at you.

Bidding their goodbyes, you and Lisa make your way down the alley to her parked car.

"Y/n don't you think Mark is super into you?" Lisa says excitedly once the others are out of earshot.

"What are you saying!?" you proclaim, looking back to make sure the Lovelees aren't following you. Seeing the coast is clear, you consider your friend's accusation. So much has happened in the last 2 hours than in your year and a month at college, or your entire life honestly. 

You walked into the alley with no guy friends and are leaving with four. Is it greedy to say that Mark really does stand out to you and you might be starting to like him, or are you just like every other girl who likes him too? The last thing you want is to be like Hillary.

"He's probably just friendly to everyone," you decide.

"No way, y/n, you good in the head? This dude only looking at you the whole time," Lisa retorts.

You shake your head in denial but thinking back, it could be true.

There it is again. That nervous, light feeling in your chest.

Oh, God. What if I like him?

Mark flops down on his bed, still not down from the high that he's been on all day. No, not that kind of high. Smile plastered on his face, he runs his fingers through his freshly washed hair, recounting your conversations from earlier.

"Dude, you look so stupid," Jeno walks into their shared room, shirtless from just getting out of the shower. A simple white towel wrapped around his lean torso is the only thing censoring the spectacular scene. Messing his hair with a second towel, he chucks the wet fabric at Mark's face.

"Fuck off," Mark swings it back at the sophomore. This year, he chose to live in a suit with the rest of the guys to save some money. Him and Jeno shared a room while Ten and Haechan occupied the other. It's undeniably small and only has one bathroom, but he is grateful he at least doesn't have to room with Haechan anymore.

Mark's phone buzzes with a notification on his nightstand. Propping himself up with his elbow, he checks to see who it's from.

1 new message from unknown

Mark sighs. If it's these crazy girls again he's going to get really annoyed. Today was a really good day and the last thing he wants is another stranger asking him to father her children. 

Maybe: Yuna?: hey mark, it's Yuna. I got your number from the group chat! If you're not too busy I'd love to talk to you about a few things

Oh crap.

Suddenly nervous, Mark scrambles to sit up properly.

"Text from your new girlfriend?," Jeno taunts unknowingly.

"No, dickhead, it's Yuna," Mark rebuts, thinking hard about a good, casual reply.

"Oh, shit," Jeno states, taken aback. The sophomore swaggers onto his own bed, now sporting a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt. The bare minimum makes him look like a poster boy every magazine photographer would clamber for. The man could put all models out of work if he had the heart for it. Fortunately, he only has the heart for hockey, video games, and pizza.

Mark: Hey Yuna! What's up?

Yuna: Hey :) nothing much! Not to freak you out, but I know all about your crush on y/n from Ten

Mark: ahaha... yeah I figured

Yuna: ok, so as her best friend and someone who cares about her a lot I just wanna put a few things out there

Yuna: is typing...

Mark watched as the three dots of the impending message taunted him. What could she be talking about? What if you have a boyfriend and Yuna's telling you to back off?

Yuna: if you're going to get close with her, you gotta make sure you keep her safe from those crazy fangirls. Y/N is a shy and sensitive girl she'll definitely take the hate to heart and if Hillary and those other crazy bitches come after her, I won't let you live

Hillary? Mark wracks his brain for any memory of a girl with that name. That girl from calc? No, that's Helen. Hillary...

An image of a mousy girl with red bangs comes into his mind. Ah yes, that's Hillary. She sends him love tweets and gave him chocolates for Valentine's Day.

Mark: I barely know Hillary and I'm pretty sure I've told her I'm not into her, but i'll make sure she knows. Yuna I'm serious about y/n

Yuna: as you should be! She's a real diamond in the rough and she's never confident in herself. All she does is work and study and practice. She never does anything for herself but she never complains either. Also, I don't wanna butt in too much, but I gotta you ask one thing

Mark: yeah ask away!

Yuna: y/n says today is the first time she met you but Ten says you've "been simping for like a year". Add it up for me?

Mark: It's kind of hard to explain... it like... do you believe in love at first sight?

Yuna: HA!!! You're too cute omg

Mark: It's like that but I never had the chance to talk to her... it never seemed right idk

Yuna: boy

Yuna: I had to force y/n to go to your game with me and Ten had to bribe Haechan to set up the picnic today early

Yuna: not to mention we made Hope and Jeno sit together even though they're both awkward just so y/n would have to sit next to you. you better make ur fucking move now

Mark curls his fingers into his blow-dried hair, letting out a low, stressed groan. He's gonna owe the guys big time.

Mark: I really appreciate it! :)))

Yuna: oh and one more thing

Mark: yeah?

Yuna: If you hurt her, I will gouge out your eyeballs and stick them up your ass and while you cry, I'll force feed you your own severed balls until you choke and die. Got it? :D

Holy fuck.

Mark: understood

Yuna: Yay!!! Approved :) good night mark! Nice getting to know you today!

Mark: same here. Night!

Mark's thumbs shake as he types out his final message. So this is what your friends are like, huh? It's such a contrast to your easy-going attitude. A smile spreads across his lips at the thought of you again.

Stretching up to shut off the lamp on his night stand, Mark tucks himself into bed. It's finally happening. You're here. You're right within his grasp. And he wants nothing more than to give you everything you need.

Mark contemplates Yuna's messages as he lay there in the dark; she said you aren't confident in yourself. This comes as a surprise to him. You're so beautiful, smart, kind, funny, and talented, the last thing he expected was that you didn't know it. You exude put-togetherness and wear elegance like a favorite sweater.

His eyes squeeze shut as Mark replays the first night he saw you in his mind. The image is engraved in his brain as he must have revisited that unintentional performance a thousand times.

This whole time, he never got to know you, but today he dipped his hand in the water. And he wanted so much more, to dive in completely and surround himself with you. All this time, he's only been on the sidelines.

I want her so bad

It's time to stop waiting around and get in the game. He's going to talk to you, walk you to class, make you feel special. So much time has already been wasted due to his own fears and misunderstandings. If it's confidence you need, it's confidence he will give you.

Wait for me, y/n, I'm gonna do it right this time

previous || m.list || next 

[szeherezadaa]

Bakugou HC

We know canonically Bakugou is a good pickpocket (chapter 219). Bakusquad learns about it (and some more) gradually.

(It turned out to be long af and drabble-ish, but it’s basically fluffy Bakusquad shenanigans with Bakugou being talented in yet another field.)

It starts with Kaminari who wants to mess with Bakugou a little. They’re studying in Bakugou’s room, but Kaminari is exhausted and wants a break, so he steals the pen Bakugou marks their mistakes with that is currently laying on the table — alone and unprotected, easy prey. Bakugou is distracted at the moment, he’s explaining something to Sero once again. Kaminari hides the pen in the pocket of his hoodie and shoots a smile at Ashido who’s also low-key dying and has asked for break at least three times already.

“Okay, Sparky, your turn,” Bakugou says and Kaminari slides him his worksheet on the table, and then finally looks at him with an innocent face-

-and sees Bakugou marking all of Kaminari’s errors with the exact same pen he did it all this time. Kaminari checks his pockets frantically, but they’re empty.

“Something’s wrong, Sparky?” Bakugou asks in a daring tone not even sparing him a glance. Kaminari just shakes his head, blurting out one nervous “no!”. It’s too nervous to pretend nothing happened, but Sero is too engrossed in correcting his mistakes and Kirishima looks like he’s fully focused on the textbook but while his body is here, his mind is probably fifty thousand miles away, so only Ashido actually notices.

She’s the next one to try to stea- to borrow something without asking from Blasty. She wants to see if it were Kaminari who messed up or if it’s the case of Bakugou being insanely good at something once again. Honestly, is there anything this guy can’t do? So, she decides to kill two birds with one stone. She has an agenda of stealing clothes from her boys to wear them, but she didn’t try to take Bakugou’s clothes yet. It’s a good opportunity to do so.

She sneaks into his room one day, right after school when barely anyone is back in the dorms yet; the excuse of organizing a movie night later at the tip of her tongue if for some reason Bakugou is already in his room. She’s lucky though, because when she enters his room, it’s empty. She opens his closet, pulls out a black hoodie with some band logo on it — it’s the softest one he has, she knows — and she’s about to put it on and leave, when the doors to Bakugou’s room open and Bakugou himself enters. She hides the hoodie behind her back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bakugou demands, opening the closet and pulling something out of it. Ashido laughs nervously and avoids looking him in the eye. In this brief second she did, she felt like his piercing gaze reached her soul. She starts to babble — how she was looking for him and about the movie night, it would be great if he joined them — while he goes to the bathroom to change from his school uniform. When he opens the bathroom doors, he’s wearing black hoodie with some band logo on it, the softest Bakugou owns.

Wait.

“Wha-” Ashido checks her hands and sees a dark red jacket she’s not sure she’s ever seen before.

“I’m not gonna be an easy target like Shitty Hair or Tape Face. If you want to have my hoodie, you have to put some fucking effort into it. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Ashido leaves.

Kirishima and Sero know because Ashido barged into Kaminari’s room, when they were playing video games together. She tells them everything. Kirishima isn’t exactly surprised, his bro is amazing after all.

Kaminari decides they should test it. See if there is something they can steal from Bakugou and have him not notice it. Ashido agrees eagerly. Sero shrugs, says he will help if he can, but mostly will be there as a witness. And a reporter, kind of, with his phone always ready to snap a photo or record a video. Kirishima isn’t sure if it’s a good idea — mostly because stealing isn’t manly — but the rest convince him, arguing that they don’t actually want to steal anything from Bakugou, just tease him, mess with him a little- The point is they don’t have any malicious intent, just want to have some harmless fun and judging from Bakugou’s reaction when Ashido tried to steal his hoodie, he knows it and already treats it as a challenge. So yeah, Kirishima agrees in the end, sue him.

The problem is, Bakugou is insanely good at it. He notices every time and it’s almost scary — whenever one of them have their hands on something belonging to Bakugou and are ready to present it to the rest of the squad, it turns out he already pickpocketed it back. He’s quick, and subtle, and efficient, and although two of these things are normal for him, Bakugou being subtle is somewhat surreal. They don’t really give up, but they stop focusing on it. They try to gain the element of surprise back, so they have to stop for a while. Lull Bakugou into a false sense of security.

They are kinda taken aback though, when Bakugou uses his skills out of his own initiative instead of as a mean to get his stuff back.

They’re sitting in cafeteria during lunch break, and Kirishima gets a text that makes his face as red as his hair in a matter of a second. It doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends.

“Who are you texting? You’ve got a crush on someone? Did they agree to a date?” Ashido floods him with questions, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Kaminari and Sero join the teasing, so Kirishima blurts out hurriedly:

“No! My mom was cleaning our attic and found a photo album from my childhood. She just sent me an embarrassing photo.” He hopes it will calm them down. He forgets one thing.

“Show me!”

“C’mon dude!”

His friends are a pain in the ass, all of them.

“No way!” he screams and tries to keep his phone out of his friends’ reach. He picks up his bag, hides his phone inside, zips the bag and holds it close, as if it was his most precious possession. It kind of is in this particular moment.

“Please, bro. I swear I won’t laugh.”

Kirishima knows it’s a lie. He refuses, stares down at Ashido and Kaminari and Sero (the traitor. Kirishima didn’t expect anything else from Ashido and Kaminari, but Sero? He trusted him) and refuses to give in to their puppy eyes. It’s tough, he’s gotta admit it. And then…. And then he hears Bakugou’s voice.

“I thought it would be something more scandalous given your reaction, Shitty Hair.”

No. He didn’t.

Except he absolutely did.

Kirishima glances, panicked, at Bakugou holding Kirishima’s phone in his hand.

“It’s not that bad, don’t be a pussy.” Bakugou rolls his eyes and puts Kirishima’s phone on the table - closest to Kirishima but not out of Kaminari’s reach. Kirishima sees this little smirk on Bakugou’s face that Bakugou always wears when they manage to convince him to some shenanigans he won’t admit out loud he enjoyed. Kirishima knows Bakugou will use his skills more often, now.

They created a monster.

Luckily Bakugou doesn’t really use his powers for evil. Well, he doesn’t use it for evil on Sero, just on Kaminari, Ashido and sometimes Kirishima, and for Sero it’s enough actually. The number of times it happened doesn’t mean they know everything about his skills though, Sero discovers one day. It should be obvious in hindsight, but Bakugou has this weird talent where whatever he does, whatever new thing you get to know about him, you’re both surprised and not at all, at the same time.

They’re doing groceries together, and they’re getting back to the dorms already, when a villain attack happens. The villain in question isn’t really strong, luckily, but has some weird teleporting quirk that moves random people to random places. They help the hero who arrived at the scene and once the villain is arrested, the hero asks them to stay here a bit longer and help people who weren’t hit with the teleporting quirk find their friends and family. More specifically help some kids, who can’t find their parents now. More specifically Sero and Bakugou are supposed to babysit the kids until the hero and his sidekicks find the missing parents.

Sero sees Bakugou frown but he doesn’t argue. Sero knows kids aren’t exactly Bakugou’s forte, especially not crying kids, so he tries his best to calm them down quickly. It’s not that easy. Sero sees Bakugou’s hand sparkle with mini-explosions. It doesn’t really calm the kids down either.

Finally, Bakugou snaps and points at a little girl with a witch hat on her head and a dark blue cape with yellow stars on it on her shoulders.

“Will you shut up if I show you a magic trick?”

The girl doesn’t look even a little bit calmer, but she hesitantly nods her head nonetheless, her lips still trembling and tears still streaming down her cheeks. Bakugou’s roar, although scaring some kids more (or, like, again; Sero actually made them stop crying and it’s all for nothing now, thanks Bakugou), brings all the kids’ attention to Bakugou. He kneels on the ground and shows his little audience that his hands are empty, then proceeds to pull a coin out off the witch girl’s ear. He shows the coin to all the kids, rotates it holding it with his index finger and his thumb, then closes his palm into a fist. When he opens his palm once again, there are two coins — between his index and middle finger, and between his middle and ring finger. He closes his palm into a fist one more time, and when he opens it, it’s empty again. The kids gasp.

“Your other hand!” one kid exclaims.

“Clever little shit,” Bakugou grins, “You thought you’re so smart, huh? Well, not this time.” He shows the other hand too; both are equally empty.

“Once more!” one kid demands.

“Once more!” the Clever Little Shit agrees.

“Once more! Once more!” the witch girl starts to chant. Other kids join her.

“Fine,” Bakugou says, then pulls out the coin again. He moves it on his fingers, throws it in the air, then catches it in his fist. Once he opens his palm, there are three coins, all between his fingers, minus his thumb. He closes his fist again and once he opens it, it’s empty once more. He looks at all the kids, then at Sero.

“Yo, Tape Face, check your pocket.”

There’s no way, is there?

Sero swears if there are coins in his pocket, he’ll start Bakugou’s fanclub. He’ll build him a shrine, because apparently Bakugou’s not entirely human.

His pockets are empty. Kids moan with disappointment (and to be honest Sero doesn’t know himself if he’s more disappointed or relieved he doesn’t have to build the shrine after all), but Bakugou’s not deterred.

“Well, then maybe you check under your hat, brat,” he addresses the witch girl. She looks at him with doubt but also with hope and takes her hat off.

A dozen of coins fall to the ground. Kids scream — excited, full of awe. Bakugou gathers all the coins from the ground, closes them in both of his cupped hands and shakes them.

“Blow,” he says to the Clever Little Shit. Clever Little Shit does as he’s told and Bakugou opens his palms. There are candies in his palms, the ones that Hagakure likes and of which they got three packages earlier, because she asked. Kids squeal, gather around Bakugou, each takes one candy and there is just excited chatter, no wails for lost parents anymore. Bakugou shows one more magic trick before the hero and his sidekicks appear with the kids’ parents.

The police takes Sero and Bakugou to leave their testimonies, and they’re finally free to go.

“So. Magic tricks,” Sero starts, once they’re on their way to dorms again.

“Shut up.”

“No, dude, wait! It was so cool! You should do it more often.”

Bakugou only grunts something that sounds like “fuck off, I’ll do what I want”. Sero knows Bakugou’s just abashed, because there wasn’t any of his usual bite. He smiles.

He has to tell the rest of the Bakusquad all about it.

Their class gets to know how skilled Bakugou is when one evening they’re all sitting in the common room and Bakugou wants to go to sleep but his friends want him to stay for a movie night. Or, at least one movie. They all deserve a break after a long week full of surprise quizzes! The rest of the class tries to respectfully convince him too, some tell him to “live a little” but before Iida, as the responsible class prez he is, manages to tell everyone that they should respect Bakugou’s opinion instead of flooding him with silly reasonings, Bakugou pulls out a sheet of paper, writes “all the fucks I give” on it, shows it to the whole class (they’re all quiet now, curious what he’ll do, although half sure he will just explode it), then proceeds to make it disappear in a true illusionist fashion.

Some of their classmates lose their shit, some stare in awe, some in shock. Midoriya smiles this soft smile of his, with stars sparkling in his eyes.

[fanfic-requests]

The Angel Next Door - Chapter 2

8:15 am…

“Good morning. Sleep well?” My mom is way too chipper in the morning.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Wow. Very detailed answer.”

“What? Do you want me to tell you how I drooled on my pillow and rolled off the bed twice?”

“Actually, kinda.”

“You’re weird.”

“What’s up slugger?” Dave walks in.

“Nothin’.”

“Wow babe, you’re kid’s quite the wordsmith.” I’m about to respond in a not-so-nice way, but I hold it back.

“When’s the pool gonna be ready?”

“It’ll be a few weeks.” My mom hands me a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks.” I start walking away.

“Hey! No food or drinks upstairs.” I turn to face Dave, really tempted to throw the OJ in his face.

“So no water? What about vitamins? Technically they’re food.”

“Haha, smart aleck.” He turns away from me and I flip him off.

My mom gives me a look that says “stop it!” and I just turn away, leaving my OJ on the nearest table.

When I get to my room I am very tempted to slam the door, but somehow manage to not do so. I open my window and just step out onto the deck to get some fresh air for the moment. And yet again there’s Asher. He seems to be playing some video games. So I reach into my room, grab a sock, ball it up, and throw it at his window. And he doesn’t notice. Son of a bitch. So I grab a pen and throw it. This time he notices and walks over to his window.

“What you doing?”

“Just playing some Madden.”

“Sounds fun.” I stand up, run across the roof, and jump across the gap between our roofs, landing directly in front of him.

“Shit! Dude!” He looks freaked out and I just start laughing.

“It’s all good. Now, are you gonna let me in and get destroyed in Madden? Or are we gonna just stand here like some weirdos from a 90s rom-com?”

“You’re crazy.” He steps back to let me in.

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.”

I sit on his bed while he grabs another controller.

“I can’t believe you’re even awake right now. Did you even sleep?”

“I don’t sleep much.”

“So you’re super athletic and don’t sleep. Are you sure you’re not Spiderman?”

“Nope. Just a retired gymnast.”

“Gymnast?”

“What? You didn’t get gymnast off me?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

“How are you already retired?”

“Well I guess retired isn’t the right word. Just the one my mom uses.” I spot a photo on Asher’s desk and walk over. “It’s more that I got sick of it and left.” The photo is of him and what I’m assuming are his mom, dad, and younger brother and sister. “This your fam?”

“Yeah. From our trip to the Bahamas last summer.”

“Looks fun.”

“You’re parents seem nice. Saw them unpacking yesterday.”

“Dave’s not my dad.” I make sure to emphasize that.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No problem. Most people assume that.” I sit back down next to him. “My dad’s out of the picture now. Dave’s the evil stepfather.”

“Sorry.”

“He’s just the stereotypical evil step-parent. It’s actually his fault that we moved here. Some business opportunity or whatever.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry about that.”

“You say sorry a lot.”

“Sor… Oops.” We both laugh.

“Now can we just play or are you scared of losing?”

“What? You’re the one that started talking about Dave.”

“Oh shut up!” I shove him and he shoves me back as we laugh.

“That was just dumb luck.” I stand up, throwing the controller on the bed.

“Dumb luck? 12 times in a row?”

“Oh fuck you.” Asher laughs. “Let’s do something else. Go out or something.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Out.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“I haven’t met her, but I’m assuming she’s amazing.”

“Eww.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait. Let me at least tell my parents.”

“Fine. Come on.” I open his bedroom door and standing right there is his mom.

She smiles at me, looking very confused.

“Hi. I’m Spencer.”

“Hey.” She looks very confused, but luckily Asher comes walking up.

“He’s the new neighbor.”

“Oh! Really good to meet you. I was planning on dropping by to say hi to your parents later.”

“Oh, they’d love that.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in earlier.”

“Oh… yeah… I’m very quiet.” Asher and I share a funny look.

“Well, Spencer and I were just about to go out. Can I borrow the car?”

“Sure. Where are you guys going?”

“Oh… um…” Asher is nervous and part of me doesn’t want to save him.

“He’s going to show me around town.”

“That’s nice. You guys have fun.”

Asher and I run out to the car.

“Do you need to go and get shoes? Maybe tell your mom and Dave that you’re going out?”

I look to the house for a second.

“Nah.” I jump into the car and I just see Asher smirk at that.

“Is he really that bad?” He asks as he drives out of the driveway.

“Worse. But everyone loves him. He’s only awful to me, and never in public.”

“Like… is he…”

“No. He’s not physical. He wouldn’t even dare. I would knock him out with one hit and he knows it.”

“Damn.”

“Let’s move on to something else.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me a summary of your life… in 60 seconds.”

“Oh…”

“Begin!”

“Shit! My name is Asher Angel…”

“Angel?”

“Shh. Since I was a kid I’ve been very into acting and singing. Got my first big gig at the age of six. From there on I’ve done a lot of plays and then a few small gigs before getting a major role on Disney Channel’s Andi Mack. I’ve released multiple albums. Then I got the role as Billy Batson in Shazam.”

“Five seconds.”

“Oh, and I love Top Golf, basketball, and my sibling’s names are Avi and London.” I just look over at him, unable to speak. “You good?”

“Um… describe good.” We both laugh. “Well, now I feel ridiculous. How did I not recognize you? I’ve seen Shazam!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I liked it a lot too.” Asher can’t help but laugh. “Well, now I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.”

“And now my life story feels pathetic.”

“I doubt it. No way your life could be boring. The first time I saw you you were sneaking off your roof.”

“ It’s fine. Let’s move on.”

“Come on. I won’t judge.”

“Wait! Stop here!” I point to our left.

“What? The playground?”

“What? It’s empty.” He pulls over and I quickly get out of the car.

I rush over to the bars. I jump on them and just start swinging around.

“You’re crazy.”

“Come on. Who says a playground is just for kids?”

“Everyone.”

“Well, kids can’t do this.”

I know this isn’t the safest, but at this point, I don’t care. So I push with all my force and spin around the pole. I spin a few more times before letting go and doing a simple under swing dismount.

“Shit!” Asher starts clapping.

“Thank you. Thank you.” I bow to him.

“I think it’s so cool that you can do that.”

“It is pretty cool, isn’t it? Bars aren’t really my thing though. I’m more of a floor guy.”

“Floor guy? That sounds a bit gross.” We both laugh.

“Eww.” I step back and quick front handspring.

“Shit. Can you do the splits?”

“Of course. But not in these pants.”

“So why’d you quit? You’re so good.”

“Swings!” I run to the swings.

“You’re really good at avoiding things. You know that, right?” Asher sits on the swing next to me.

“I know. You got a girlfriend?”

“Wow. What a transition there!”

“And?”

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend. Well, I did, but we broke up a few months ago.”

“Bummer.”

“And you? You leave a girl behind?”

“Oh god no. But I’ve had a few boyfriends. Not a recent one though.”

“Oh... “ I love seeing people’s faces when they realize I’m gay. “Sorry I assumed.”

“It’s fine. Most people do.”

“So you’re out?”

“Yeah. For two years now.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, are your parents fine with it?”

I sit there for a second and just stare forward. Part of me just wants to run, but I’m honestly just too tired to keep running.

“Well, my mom was fine with it. She told me she knew for a long time.” I feel my heart racing, thinking about all of this. “As for my dad…” I literally begin feeling my chest moving at a dangerous speed.

“You okay?”

“Not really.” I find my eyes tearing up, but then I just laugh.

“You sure.”

“Not really.” I laugh again. “When I was six my parents divorced. And I was given the choice of who I wanted to live with. I choose my dad.”

“Oh…” I can tell he’s intrigued like it’s a telenovela… and it is.

“So I lived with him. But I still saw my mom every weekend. We were close. But I was much closer with my dad.”

“That’s nice.” I can’t help but laugh at that and he just looks at me confused.

“Two years ago I came out to my parents. My dad couldn’t handle it. He kicked me out. I didn’t even get to pack. My mom picked me up and she had to pack all my stuff.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” It is a struggle to not let my tears out right now.

“It’s all good.”

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“Nope. Haven’t heard a single word from him for two years now.”

“I can’t imagine that.”

“It’s fine. I’ve moved on.”

“There’s no moving on from that.” And then I snap, tears slowly falling down my face.

“God I wish I had my flask right now.” Asher and I both laugh a little. “Ugh, I hate this.” I wipe my tears.

“It’s not a bad thing to cry.”

“I know…”

“Really. Emotions aren’t a bad thing. If you ever need to talk about anything just jump on over.”

“Thanks…” I look at him. “Are you sure you’re straight?” I laugh, but I notice he doesn’t.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Look who’s avoiding things now?” We both laugh. “Come on. Ice cream sounds perfect.”

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst. 

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise. 

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set. 

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation. 

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint. 

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray. 

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers. 

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile. 

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with. 

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends. 

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.” 

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did. 

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes. 

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day. 

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in. 

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins. 

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be. 

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated. 

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available. 

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something! 

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear. 

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.” 

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison. 

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said. 

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute? 

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face. 

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks. 

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed. 

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind. 

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking. 

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him. 

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic. 

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself. 

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly. 

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half. 

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it. 

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them. 

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether. 

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days. 

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

<  whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

[allegra-writes]

Trivia Night

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Just a little drabble based on a dream I had. Blame it on @tomsrebeleyebrow she encourages the insanity. Such a bad influence, honestly *shakes head dissaprovingly* 😂💖

It was loud inside the pub, and your table was probably the loudest of all. Trivia was almost over and you knew your team at the very least had to be coming pretty fucking close to winning. The price wasn't much, just the tab, and that sum of money meant nothing to the people sitting with you, but the boys were very competitive. And to tell the truth, so where you after a couple of pints… and you had definitely had way more than that. 

It was the very first trivia night you had been invited to, and to be honest you had been a little nervous to meet with all of Harrison's closest friends at once. It had been unnecessary, since they had all been kind and welcoming, but you knew that if you helped them finally win first place, they were going to love you forever. And your boyfriend's mates approval meant a lot to you. For once in your life, the tons of useless knowledge and obscure sci-fi references you possessed might be able to actually help your love life. It was unheard of and it made you very excited.

"Ok, so last question" Sam read, voice slightly slurred, "'This fictional intelligence agency features heavily on the Marvel cinematic universe. What does its acronym stand for: a, Special Headquarters Investigating Enhanced Logistic Department; b, Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division; or c, Strategic Headquarters Investigating the Enforcement of Logistics Division?"

You watched Tom's alcohol reddened face drain of all it's color as everyone in your table looked expectantly at him. He cursed,

"I can't- I can't remember" He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I never… I always… I can never remember this!" 

"Come on, mate, are you serious?"

"You're joking. Please tell me you're messing with us!" Harry implored his older brother. Tom shrugged apologetically.

"I'm sorry!" 

A hail of paper balls rained down over his head, as both twins and your boyfriend threw their dirty napkins at him.

"You bloody twat! You're embarrassing us in front of the lady! If you make us look like losers tonight I swear-"

Your decidedly unladylike snort drew everyone's attention to you.

"Pluh-ase, I already know you guys are a bunch of losers! Get out of the way, and let 'the lady' show you how it's done…" 

You took the sheet from Sam's hands and confidently marked the right answer before returning it. 

"Are you absolutely sure?" He inquired, somehow skeptical.

You rolled your eyes, 

"Dude, of course I'm sure. It's like, nerd 101, S.H.I.E.L.D means Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. Honestly," You added, pinning Tom with a look, "you are a disgrace to all nerd kind" 

A chorus of "oooh" resonated through the table. The boys had been teasing each other all night, but it was the first time you had dared to, and they seemed pleasantly impressed. The teasing and laughing continued as a waitress picked up the quiz answer sheets from the tables, and you arched a brow at the shamelessly flirty smile she gave Harrison.

"Incredible" Tom complained loudly, "Five blockbuster superhero movies. Five. And I am still invisible next to this guy!" He poked your boyfriend in the ribs. 

"Huh?" 

"He means the waitress, babe" You explained your clueless boyfriend, "She was making eyes at you. You really didn't notice?"

He shook his head,

"I was too busy looking at the prettiest girl in the bar" He said, eyes never leaving yours.

"Aweeeee" Three ironic voices intoned.

"Don't listen to them," You leaned in to capture Harrison's lips with yours, "You are so getting laid tonight"

You heard someone choke on his beer, as Sam's voice commented,

"Ok, now I feel sorry for us…" 

You broke the kiss, laughing. 

"Then behave yourselves, and I might introduce you to some of my friends" 

"Oh, no, don't do that, love!" Haz argued, "they are your friends! Why would you do such a thing to them?" 

"Oi!" 

"Fuck you, Osterfield!" 

"Hush, no, you two! They're about to announce the winner!" 

The racket inside the bar died down, as the little crowd patrons turn their eyes, expectantly, to the leader of the three people trivia committee. The music was turned down as he bellowed, 

"Ladies and gents and non binary mates, it is my pleasure to annunciate tonight's Trivia winner" He unfolded a piece of paper, pausing for dramatic effect as some people produced drum rolls by beating the top of the tables with their pens, "Table number eight, "The Mary Janes"!"

"YES!!"

"HELL, YEAH, I KNEW IT! I BLOODY KNEW IT!!" 

You gaped in confusion how your table mates jumped from their seats and yelled triumphantly. Tom pulled you up for a hug.

"Wait, what? Your team is called 'The Mary Janes'?" You scream in his ear to be heard above the ruckus

Tom shrugged as he released you,

"Zendaya named us, and who are we to argue?" 

That was a valid point, but you didn't have much time to ponder it, as Haz tugged on your arm with enough force to turn you around and crash you into his chest.

"We never won first place before," He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, his free hand coming to rest palm open against the side of your neck, thumb softly caressing your jaw, "this is all thanks to you"

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours again, and he was dipping you low, in a kiss worthy of any classic Hollywood movie, for all the pub to see. You could hear cheers and whistles, but it was hard to feel self conscious with his tongue borrowing its way between your teeth, claiming your mouth like his very own personal prize.

When he finally released you, your head was swimming. 

"Awe, come on! I want a celebration kiss too!" Tom's cheeky voice complained, a little closer than you were expecting, his alcohol smelling breath hot against your ear. 

It sobered you up like a cold water bucket. He was clearly drunk, and you had long ago learned he was just a natural flirt and didn't mean anything by it. But Harrison was a little bit of the possessive kind. Even the twins stopped clapping, sensing the sudden tension. 

Haz took a step towards his friend, placing his body between you and Tom. The whole pub seemed to freeze, anticipating your boyfriend's reaction. 

Haz met your eye over his shoulder, throwing a wink in your direction.

"Wha-"

Before Tom could react, two big hands were on either side of his face, holding him in place… as Harrison planted the sloppiest, loudest, most ridiculous kiss right on his horrorized best friend's mouth.

A beat passed, then two, until twin barks of laughter broke you out of your stupor, and you doubled over, cracking up as the entire pub went wild.

"How is that for a celebration kiss?"

Tom didn't answer, instead choosing to take his glass from the table and down the rest of his beer in one gulp, soon as your boyfriend let go of him, of course.

"Oh, come on now! Don't act as if that wasn't the best snog of your life!"

Tom turned his big, traumatized stare on you,

"That's the worst part: I think you might be right!"

Another fit of laughter cracked through your body, tears streaming down your cheeks, completely out of control. God, how you loved these silly London boys!

The end.

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” He almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up.

The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting, I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?”

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott lagging behind.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna’ do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when he gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shoved him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

In the woods, Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.

—————

Tag List: @linkpk88

[ve1vetyoongi]

Operation: Love Letters | 05

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 4k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings/rating: none, PG.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

"Do we really need to wear these?" You hold up the black hoodie and matching balaclava Jimin pulled out of an ominously heavy gym bag. "And do we really need night goggles and a screwdriver?"

"You can never be too careful. This guy is a total nerd. He definitely has cameras set up in his tech room and who knows what booby traps are waiting for us."

You throw the balaclava into your locker with a scoff but shrug and drop the screwdriver into your backpack anyway. Just in case. "This isn't Spy Kids, Jimin. He's just a dude with a laptop, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Okay, well don't blame me when one of his computers detonates."

It's final period and the halls are eerily empty for a college campus as you and Jimin creep down towards the tech room, alert and aware of each far-too-loud squeak Jimin's polished chelsea boots make against the floor and every door that opens and shuts nearby.

Before long you arrive outside the tech room where after a little research, you found out Jungkook holds his club meetings. You know it's the right one because there's a sign on the front that says TECH CLUB - THURSDAY'S AT NOON - PRESIDENT: JEON JUNGKOOK.

If your calculations were correct, Jungkook had class for another twenty minutes, offering you and Jimin the perfect opportunity to gather clues — except you're suddenly overcome with nerves that make you shiver as you stop dead outside the door, seconds ticking by as you give yourself a mental pep talk.

"Are you having second thoughts about breaking in?" Jimin asks, squeezing your shoulder gently.

"No." You swallow. "It's just, what if this is another dead end? What if we're wasting our time again and my admirer isn't even Jungkook?"

"I mean, maybe Jungkook was under our noses this whole time. You were a 100% match, remember?" Jimin shrugs his shoulders with a smile. "You'll never know unless we find out once and for all."

You return his smile with a firm nod of your head. "You're right. It's now or never."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jimin holds out his pinky finger and you take it in your own. "Whatever happens, I'll be by your side the whole time, okay? In the name of Operation Love Letters?"

"In the name of Operation Love letters." You confirm, your hand finally finding the door handle while you take a deep breath as you prepare for your introduction into a life of crime.

Here we go...

But much to your surprise, no matter how hard you twist it, the door remains stiff and closed. Even when you try and barge it with your shoulder, it doesn't budge a single inch, and you turn to Jimin with a roll of your eyes.

"It's locked!" You hiss, slapping a hand to your forehead. "Why didn't we think of this?"

"This is a problem." Jimin bends to his knees and peers at the key hole. "Looks like the key is custom made. Which means there's probably only one of them."

"So? What does that mean?"

"It means we have to find a way in straight from the source."

"You mean steal Jungkook's key?"

"I mean, I'd call it borrowing, but yeah, I guess." Jimin shrugs with a smirk. "You in?"

"Duh." You roll your eyes. "You got a plan?"

"Your lack of faith in me is hurtful." He grasps his chest like he's in pain. "Of course I have a plan! Now hurry, we don't have time to waste! It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and we need to get you your man!"

The campus cafeteria is bustling with life when Jimin hands you a lunch tray and drags you behind him to join the queue.

"Dude, we don't have time for a snack break!" You whine, buzzing with adrenaline at the thought of uncovering the sender of your note. "You said we were gonna find my secret admirer?"

"Just trust me!" Jimin counters, holding a finger to his lips as he stands on his tippy toes to peer towards the far corner of the cafeteria. "Jungkook and the tech team meet here every day at 2:30." He pulls back his sleeve, tapping the face of his watch with a smug smile. "And if my calculations are correct, Jungkook should be arriving right about..."

"Now." You finish, as you see the tech club crowd into the cafeteria, occupying a table in the far corner and launching in to an in depth conversation about some new video game they were all playing.

With them is a boy with dark bangs and a pair of glasses, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly as he flashes his bunny-like smile at the guy beside him. He pulls a portable gaming console out of the front pocket of his denim dungarees and even from where you stand a few meters away you can pick up the excitement in his voice as he tells the girl beside him all about it.

A total nerd, you note, but a totally cute nerd at that.

"And here we have a wild Jeon Jungkook in his natural habitat." Jimin announces as he pulls you to hide behind a pillar out of sight as Jungkook's friends say their goodbyes and leave for their afternoon classes, leaving him to finish his lunch alone.

"You really think this guy could've sent me the love letter?" You ask skeptically.

"There's only one way to find out." Jimin whispers back. "Leave it to me."

"What? Hey...wait up!"

You're almost too weak in the knees to care when a lunch lady slaps a pile of questionably appetising mashed potatoes onto your tray, hurrying after Jimin as he pushes through the crowd and stalks right up to the empty seat next to where Jeon Jungkook sits and chows down on a sandwich with one hand while his other works on the gaming console his eyes remain glued to.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" You whisper harshly. "Shouldn't we at least try to be subtle? We can't just ask him outright for the key!"

"Relax, me and Jungkook go way back, we took a filler class together last semester. This will be a piece of cake."

And with that, Jimin slaps down his lunch tray in the seat opposite Jungkook and leans forward on his elbows to greet him with a far-to-wide smile beneath his baker boy hat.

"Hey, Jungkook! What's up? Long time no see huh?"

Jungkook stops mid bite, blinking at Jimin in confusion before his eyes slowly drift up to where you hover behind him awkwardly. He pulls his headphones around his neck and chokes on the bite of sandwich he was in the middle of swallowing.

Your eyes widen, lurching forward to hand him your bottle of water which he glugs in a matter of seconds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though he's unable to curb the way his jaw drops when he looks up again and sees Jimin's never faltering Cheshire grin and you beside him, still sat there looking at him with concern.

"Y-Y/N?" He manages to splutter. "What are you doing here?"

Jimin jerks you down into the seat beside him, breaking Jungkook's rapt and wide eyed stare by snapping his fingers to get his attention. "We're here to ask you about the Love Calculator. Do you know anything about it?"

"Y-yeah. I created it." Jungkook coughs, a look of pure panic striking his features. "Why? W-who said something?"

"Nobody said anything!" You interject before Jimin can forcefully probe the terrified kid any further with his bad cop act, flashing him a glance that says leave it to me as you take the reigns. "I just thought it was really cool and I uh...had an idea for a similar project that I think you might be interested in. Right Jimin?"

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, but nods slowly anyway. "Right..."

"But the thing is, I don't know how to code so I'm kinda stumped..."

That sparks something in the quiet boy opposite you, and he suddenly sits up straight, pushing his round glasses up his nose eagerly. "I-I can code!"

"You can?" You smile sweetly, even fluttering your eyelashes for extra measure. "Do you think you could maybe...help us — me — out?"

"Sure!" Jungkook's eyes are wide and sparkling now as he fiddles awkwardly with the braces over top of his plaid shirt. "J-just drop by the tech r-room after class and I'll show you anything you need to know.

"Perfect. That way we can spend some time together, too." You purr with an award winning smile. Was that too much? You wince at the sugary sweetness in your tone when Jungkook suddenly jumps to his feet and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I uh...gotta go!" His lunch tray rattles as he throws his backpack over his shoulders. "See y-you around."

"Wait!" Jungkook freezes when you chase after him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight embrace, hand quietly sneaking around to slip into his jacket pocket as you do and curling around something cold and sharp. "Thanks for all your help Jungkook. It really means a lot."

Jungkook scrunches his nose and shuffles backwards when you let go, bumping into a freshman as he does. "N-no problem. See ya!" And with that, you and Jimin watch as he speed walks down the hall.

"What the heck? You let him get away!" Jimin whines, glancing over his shoulder as Jungkook disappears among the crowd of college students and you pull him roughly by the elbow into an empty nearby supply closet.

Once you're sure the coast is clear, you open your palm, revealing a shiny silver key dangling from your middle finger with a smug smile. "Bingo."

"I'm impressed." A smirk appears on Jimin's face, and he offers you a triumphant fist bump. "The student has become the master."

"Ta da!" The key turns in the lock and, after checking the halls are empty, you push open the door to the tech room with a smug grin. "We're in."

"You're in." Jimin corrects, shoving his foot in between the door frame so you can't lock it behind you. "I volunteer to keep watch. You know, just in case classes end early or something and we need to get away quick!"

You roll your eyes but enter without much protest. "Fine. But you better tell me if you see anything suspicious."

"Yes, Sarge." Jimin salutes, before settling with his legs crossed against the door frame.

The tech room is pitch black, but you don't want to arouse suspicion by turning on the lights, so you flick on your phone torch instead to get your bearings.

A couple beanbags sit in the corner surrounding a video game console, the far wall lined by a row of computers with headsets rested neatly on top.

There's a cabinet filled with DVD's and age-old floppy disks, and you thumb through them hurriedly but are met with nothing but dust and disappointment, so you move on to the chest-height drawers instead. Again, you find nothing of interest; just USB sticks and used printer cartridges.

"Jimin," You whisper. "What am I even supposed to be looking for? This whole place is clean!"

"Try logging into his computer," Jimin calls, poking his head into the hall to check the coast is clear before reappearing and tapping his watch to hurry you. "We don't have much time left, class is almost over."

Without further ado, you sink into Jungkook's plush office chair, wheeling yourself under his desktop and flicking the green on switch on his monitor. It takes a couple seconds for the screen to boot up before you're met with a background of Jungkook's white fluffy dog and a password pop up.

Darn it. Of course it's password protected, he wouldn't be that dumb...but wait! Maybe there is a way you can find it.

Your hand feels around beneath his desk and before long your fingers curl around a piece of paper that has been taped to the underside.

"Oldest trick in the book." You chuckle with a smug smile. Wasn't he ever taught not to keep his password in plain sight? So much for studying cyber security.

Without further ado you pull out his keyboard and let your fingers flit across the keys with a nauseous excitement in your stomach. You take a deep breath when you hit enter...except no matter how many times you do, nothing happens. The computer screen just remains unchanging with the same taunting ENTER PASSWORD pop up staring at you from behind the eyes of a tiny puppy.

"What the— Jimin!" You hiss. "I think his computer is broken, I can't log in."

Jimin rolls his eyes and removes his foot from where it holds the door open to come and take a look for himself. "You're probably just doing it wrong."

A couple minutes later and no matter how many times Jimin checks it's plugged into the outlet or how hard you press on the keys, you just can't get it to work. It's almost like a sick joke. You've got this close to finding out the truth and now technology decides to turn against you!

"Goddamnit!" Frustration floods your veins as you lift the keyboard up and throw it back down on the desk again with a huff. "Why won't this stupid thing work!"

Jimin's eyes widen. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" You bark with a roll of your eyes, still defeated by your battle with the keyboard. "I didn't hear anything."

"No, do that again...with the keyboard."

Your brows furrow. "This?" You lift the keyboard up again and this time when it collides with the desk top you hear it. A clunk from inside the keyboard.

"There it is again!" Jimin brushes you aside to wrap his own hands around the appliance, lifting it up to his face and shaking it like a rattle. Sure enough, the "I think this is just a dummy keyboard. There's something hidden inside!"

"Well hurry up and open it then!" You exclaim, and Jimin drops to his knees to rummage through his black gym bag.

"Told you the screwdriver would come in handy." He says as he hands it to you and you send him a scowl before starting on the tiny screws keeping the back of the keyboard closed.

After a couple twists, the keyboard suddenly pops open, and Jimin is practically hopping from foot to foot as you tip it upside down and shake it back and forth until it's contents plonks out onto the table top.

"What is it?" Jimin gasps, when you hold up a red file labelled TOP SECRET.

"This is what he's hiding?" You mumble as you leaf through the sheets of paper held inside by a paperclip. "What's so special about a bunch of paper?"

Jimin stops you when you start flicking through too fast. "Wait, go back. I recognise that one."

"Hold up—" Your eyes flit across two words printed in pink ink when Jimin points to a specific page. "This is someone's Love Calculator results."

"Holy shit," Jimin gasps, finger prodding at the name at the top of the page. "This is a copy of your Love Calculator results."

"But why is he keeping it hidden away if—"

You don't have time to finish your question before the door is swinging open on it's hinges, Jimin jumping behind you in fear as a figure emerges in the darkness holding a baseball bat.

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping watch!" You hiss.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. "I got excited!"

"W-who's there?" A nervous voice stammers from the shadow that spins around on his heels and swings the bat in his hand willy nilly.  "Don't even think about stealing any of my equipment. I have alarms all over this place that will call the cops if you move a single muscle!"

"Damn it! What did I tell you about booby traps?" Jimin nudges you in the ribs but you're not listening, already jumping to your feet with your hands in the air in surrender.

"Don't call the cops! It's just us."

The figure freezes, before you see him feel around the wall for the light switch, flicking it on to reveal none other than Jeon Jungkook blinking at you in confusion.

"Y/N? Jimin? What are you—"

"Cut the crap,  Jungkook." Jimin holds up the red file and Jungkook looks like he's about to faint. "You have some explaining to do."

"We know that you've been lying to us. You have something to do with the love letters and this evidence proves it." You bark at Jungkook, who sits opposite you and Jimin in the tech room with a lamp pointed at his terrified features as you interrogate him.

"H-how did you find out?"

"That you're my secret admirer?"

"What? N-no I'm not—"

"Then what were we supposed to find out?"

Jungkook swallows hard. "I...I changed your results!"

He slaps a hand over his mouth and stares at his shoes guiltily while you and you and Jimin share a look.

"The Love Calculator results?" Jimin prods, sliding the sheet across the table. "What did you do?"

Jungkook pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and scooting over to your side of the desk so you can all crowd around the screen which loads up with a black page filled with lines of code.

"Look here," He points to the screen and types in a few numbers. "I made the programme so that I can...input my own data into the system if I want to."

"Okay? And what does that mean?"

"Well it means that everyone who fills out the survey gets a list of people who they really match with based on their answers." He insists. "But, in some cases I can...fix things."

"Fix things how?" You say as he types your name into the search bar and waits for your results to load up.

"I-I uh..." He stutters, before the truth comes spilling out. "I changed your top match so that we were 100% compatible!"

"What?" You exclaim. "Why would you do that?"

"It's j-just, I've had a huge crush on you since freshman year and I thought maybe if you got me in your results then..."

"She'd finally notice you." Jimin finishes, and Jungkook nods pitifully with his hands in his lap.

"But wait," A thought suddenly strikes you. "If you aren't my top match, then who is?"

Jungkook presses a few buttons before he turns the laptop screen towards you, jolting when you and Jimin let out a unanimous gasp at the name displayed on the screen surrounded by a plethora of hearts.

Min Yoongi. 100% compatible.

Suddenly, the door flies open and you freeze, hardly daring to turn around when you hear the familiar voice that follows it. "Hey guys, what are you doing in here...woah, why is my name on the screen?"

[andrew2luv]

The Angel Next Door - Chapter 2

8:15 am…

“Good morning. Sleep well?” My mom is way too chipper in the morning.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Wow. Very detailed answer.”

“What? Do you want me to tell you how I drooled on my pillow and rolled off the bed twice?”

“Actually, kinda.”

“You’re weird.”

“What’s up slugger?” Dave walks in.

“Nothin’.”

“Wow babe, you’re kid’s quite the wordsmith.” I’m about to respond in a not-so-nice way, but I hold it back.

“When’s the pool gonna be ready?”

“It’ll be a few weeks.” My mom hands me a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks.” I start walking away.

“Hey! No food or drinks upstairs.” I turn to face Dave, really tempted to throw the OJ in his face.

“So no water? What about vitamins? Technically they’re food.”

“Haha, smart aleck.” He turns away from me and I flip him off.

My mom gives me a look that says “stop it!” and I just turn away, leaving my OJ on the nearest table.

When I get to my room I am very tempted to slam the door, but somehow manage to not do so. I open my window and just step out onto the deck to get some fresh air for the moment. And yet again there’s Asher. He seems to be playing some video games. So I reach into my room, grab a sock, ball it up, and throw it at his window. And he doesn’t notice. Son of a bitch. So I grab a pen and throw it. This time he notices and walks over to his window.

“What you doing?”

“Just playing some Madden.”

“Sounds fun.” I stand up, run across the roof, and jump across the gap between our roofs, landing directly in front of him.

“Shit! Dude!” He looks freaked out and I just start laughing.

“It’s all good. Now, are you gonna let me in and get destroyed in Madden? Or are we gonna just stand here like some weirdos from a 90s rom-com?”

“You’re crazy.” He steps back to let me in.

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.”

I sit on his bed while he grabs another controller.

“I can’t believe you’re even awake right now. Did you even sleep?”

“I don’t sleep much.”

“So you’re super athletic and don’t sleep. Are you sure you’re not Spiderman?”

“Nope. Just a retired gymnast.”

“Gymnast?”

“What? You didn’t get gymnast off me?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

“How are you already retired?”

“Well I guess retired isn’t the right word. Just the one my mom uses.” I spot a photo on Asher’s desk and walk over. “It’s more that I got sick of it and left.” The photo is of him and what I’m assuming are his mom, dad, and younger brother and sister. “This your fam?”

“Yeah. From our trip to the Bahamas last summer.”

“Looks fun.”

“You’re parents seem nice. Saw them unpacking yesterday.”

“Dave’s not my dad.” I make sure to emphasize that.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No problem. Most people assume that.” I sit back down next to him. “My dad’s out of the picture now. Dave’s the evil stepfather.”

“Sorry.”

“He’s just the stereotypical evil step-parent. It’s actually his fault that we moved here. Some business opportunity or whatever.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry about that.”

“You say sorry a lot.”

“Sor… Oops.” We both laugh.

“Now can we just play or are you scared of losing?”

“What? You’re the one that started talking about Dave.”

“Oh shut up!” I shove him and he shoves me back as we laugh.

“That was just dumb luck.” I stand up, throwing the controller on the bed.

“Dumb luck? 12 times in a row?”

“Oh fuck you.” Asher laughs. “Let’s do something else. Go out or something.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Out.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“I haven’t met her, but I’m assuming she’s amazing.”

“Eww.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait. Let me at least tell my parents.”

“Fine. Come on.” I open his bedroom door and standing right there is his mom.

She smiles at me, looking very confused.

“Hi. I’m Spencer.”

“Hey.” She looks very confused, but luckily Asher comes walking up.

“He’s the new neighbor.”

“Oh! Really good to meet you. I was planning on dropping by to say hi to your parents later.”

“Oh, they’d love that.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in earlier.”

“Oh… yeah… I’m very quiet.” Asher and I share a funny look.

“Well, Spencer and I were just about to go out. Can I borrow the car?”

“Sure. Where are you guys going?”

“Oh… um…” Asher is nervous and part of me doesn’t want to save him.

“He’s going to show me around town.”

“That’s nice. You guys have fun.”

Asher and I run out to the car.

“Do you need to go and get shoes? Maybe tell your mom and Dave that you’re going out?”

I look to the house for a second.

“Nah.” I jump into the car and I just see Asher smirk at that.

“Is he really that bad?” He asks as he drives out of the driveway.

“Worse. But everyone loves him. He’s only awful to me, and never in public.”

“Like… is he…”

“No. He’s not physical. He wouldn’t even dare. I would knock him out with one hit and he knows it.”

“Damn.”

“Let’s move on to something else.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me a summary of your life… in 60 seconds.”

“Oh…”

“Begin!”

“Shit! My name is Asher Angel…”

“Angel?”

“Shh. Since I was a kid I’ve been very into acting and singing. Got my first big gig at the age of six. From there on I’ve done a lot of plays and then a few small gigs before getting a major role on Disney Channel’s Andi Mack. I’ve released multiple albums. Then I got the role as Billy Batson in Shazam.”

“Five seconds.”

“Oh, and I love Top Golf, basketball, and my sibling’s names are Avi and London.” I just look over at him, unable to speak. “You good?”

“Um… describe good.” We both laugh. “Well, now I feel ridiculous. How did I not recognize you? I’ve seen Shazam!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I liked it a lot too.” Asher can’t help but laugh. “Well, now I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.”

“And now my life story feels pathetic.”

“I doubt it. No way your life could be boring. The first time I saw you you were sneaking off your roof.”

“ It’s fine. Let’s move on.”

“Come on. I won’t judge.”

“Wait! Stop here!” I point to our left.

“What? The playground?”

“What? It’s empty.” He pulls over and I quickly get out of the car.

I rush over to the bars. I jump on them and just start swinging around.

“You’re crazy.”

“Come on. Who says a playground is just for kids?”

“Everyone.”

“Well, kids can’t do this.”

I know this isn’t the safest, but at this point, I don’t care. So I push with all my force and spin around the pole. I spin a few more times before letting go and doing a simple under swing dismount.

“Shit!” Asher starts clapping.

“Thank you. Thank you.” I bow to him.

“I think it’s so cool that you can do that.”

“It is pretty cool, isn’t it? Bars aren’t really my thing though. I’m more of a floor guy.”

“Floor guy? That sounds a bit gross.” We both laugh.

“Eww.” I step back and quick front handspring.

“Shit. Can you do the splits?”

“Of course. But not in these pants.”

“So why’d you quit? You’re so good.”

“Swings!” I run to the swings.

“You’re really good at avoiding things. You know that, right?” Asher sits on the swing next to me.

“I know. You got a girlfriend?”

“Wow. What a transition there!”

“And?”

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend. Well, I did, but we broke up a few months ago.”

“Bummer.”

“And you? You leave a girl behind?”

“Oh god no. But I’ve had a few boyfriends. Not a recent one though.”

“Oh... “ I love seeing people’s faces when they realize I’m gay. “Sorry I assumed.”

“It’s fine. Most people do.”

“So you’re out?”

“Yeah. For two years now.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, are your parents fine with it?”

I sit there for a second and just stare forward. Part of me just wants to run, but I’m honestly just too tired to keep running.

“Well, my mom was fine with it. She told me she knew for a long time.” I feel my heart racing, thinking about all of this. “As for my dad…” I literally begin feeling my chest moving at a dangerous speed.

“You okay?”

“Not really.” I find my eyes tearing up, but then I just laugh.

“You sure.”

“Not really.” I laugh again. “When I was six my parents divorced. And I was given the choice of who I wanted to live with. I choose my dad.”

“Oh…” I can tell he’s intrigued like it’s a telenovela… and it is.

“So I lived with him. But I still saw my mom every weekend. We were close. But I was much closer with my dad.”

“That’s nice.” I can’t help but laugh at that and he just looks at me confused.

“Two years ago I came out to my parents. My dad couldn’t handle it. He kicked me out. I didn’t even get to pack. My mom picked me up and she had to pack all my stuff.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” It is a struggle to not let my tears out right now.

“It’s all good.”

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“Nope. Haven’t heard a single word from him for two years now.”

“I can’t imagine that.”

“It’s fine. I’ve moved on.”

“There’s no moving on from that.” And then I snap, tears slowly falling down my face.

“God I wish I had my flask right now.” Asher and I both laugh a little. “Ugh, I hate this.” I wipe my tears.

“It’s not a bad thing to cry.”

“I know…”

“Really. Emotions aren’t a bad thing. If you ever need to talk about anything just jump on over.”

“Thanks…” I look at him. “Are you sure you’re straight?” I laugh, but I notice he doesn’t.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Look who’s avoiding things now?” We both laugh. “Come on. Ice cream sounds perfect.”

[nazariolahela]

Something Domestic: Chapter 14

A/N: Hey y'all! This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

This week’s chapter is a bonus from Liam’s POV. I was really excited to write his side of the story. I hope you enjoy it too.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @beardedoafdonutwagon @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth @lynne1993 @queen-anastasia-universe​

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for? 

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Liam and Leo try to get to the bottom of the tabloid scandal and Liam tries to win Riley back. 

Almost a month had passed since the tabloid incident. In that time, the press found plenty of other scandals to latch on to. Not hard to do in this city. Lucky for me, my divorce has all but been forgotten about. I still get the occasional paparazzo bombarding me with questions of if I’m “banging the new nanny,” but for the most part, they’ve moved on. 

The last month has been hard on the kids as well. After Madeleine fired Riley, she replaced her almost immediately. Seems kind of suspicious to me, but whatever. The new nanny — a woman named Belinda — is a lovely woman, but the kids haven’t quite warmed up to her like they did Riley. They keep asking me when she’s coming back. I don’t have the heart to tell them that she probably won’t. They were visibly upset when I told them she would no longer be their nanny. Charlotte cried. Philip asked me if she didn’t like us anymore. They still talk about how much they miss her. To be honest, I do too. 

If we’re being honest here, I never once thought she did it. And not because we were involved. I saw how she was with my kids and I could tell she genuinely cared for them. She treated them like they were her own. Many nights I would come home from work and hear Philip talk about all the fun things he and Riley did, or hear Charlotte gush about how pretty and nice Riley was to her and how she let her wear whatever she wanted to school. I also remember all the times she told me that she didn’t care about my money, so there’s no way she would sell us out for a payday. 

It’s Monday morning and I’m sitting in my office at Cordonia Enterprises looking over the numbers for this quarter when my brother Leo strolls in, looking like he had just woken up from a week-long sex and booze bender. He moves over to the bar cart, pours himself three fingers of scotch, and plops down in the seat across from me. 

“You look like shit, little bro,” he smiles behind the rim of his glass. 

“You would know. You smell like a brothel.” 

He laughs loudly and takes a sip of his scotch, then sets it on the desk. “Well, you’re ex-nanny needed someone to comfort her after you tossed her out on the street, so I offered her my services. Did you know she makes the cutest noises when she cums?” He makes a show of adjusting himself. “My balls are getting tight just thinking about it.” 

I clench the pen in my hand with enough force that my knuckles turn white. I know he’s trying to fuck with me, so I take a deep breath, controlling my rage. “What the fuck do you want, Leo?” 

He chuckles and kicks his feet up on my desk. I love my brother, but he can be a real dickhead at times. When Madeleine and I started dating, he gave me shit for months about me picking up his ‘sloppy seconds.’ Once, he asked me if she ever called out his name in bed. Fucker. After we were married, he warned me that she was just using me to get back at him. I probably should have listened to him. When I announced to my family that she and I were splitting up, he revealed that she had tried to seduce him on more than one occasion. Thankfully, he had no interest in getting involved with her again. My brother may be a total asshole, but he wouldn’t deliberately hurt me. 

“So, I think I know how to help you with your little predicament.” 

“My predicament?” 

“The tabloid leak. I think I know who was behind it. Or at least had something to do with it.”  

“It’s been a month, man. Everyone's forgotten about it,” I say, setting my pen down. 

“Really? Because your ex-wife called me last week.”  

I raise my brows and give him my full attention. This should be good. 

“Yeah, she called me crying, telling me how much she misses me. Not like I haven’t heard that over and over the last seven years. I warned you about her, Li. That chick is crazy. I’m pretty sure she was drunk. So anyway, she asks me if I knew about you and your nanny. Told her I had heard some things. Then she gives me some pathetic sob story about how you made her do what she did. ‘I had to do it, Leo. Who knows how long this has been going on?’” I nod and wait for him to continue.  

“I ask her to elaborate. She sputters out some lame-ass excuse about how you fucking the nanny behind her back pushed her into the arms of another man. The timing clearly didn’t line up since we all know you filed before you hired Riley, but I didn’t tell her that. I just let her dig her hole. She goes on about how she took matters into her own hands. Now that Riley’s out of the picture, things can go back to normal.” He laughs and finishes off his drink. 

“What does Riley have to do with all this?” I ask.  

“I asked her the same thing. She said that she knew Riley was no good from the beginning, but that you had convinced her to hire her because of her background. She suspected something was up after the paparazzi incident at the park, but that you had talked her out of doing something rash. That’s when she convinced you to hire Mara to keep tabs on Riley. I guess Mara had been giving her updates. She also rambled on about how Mara always bought Riley those tabloid magazines. That’s when she said she knew Riley had something to do with it. She didn’t come outright and say it, but the signs are all there.” 

I struggle to process the info that was just dumped in my lap. Would Madeleine really stoop that low? I know she wasn’t happy about me filing for divorce, but would she be vindictive enough to put our children in harm’s way just to get back at me? Why was the nanny collateral damage? And why would she wait a month to say anything? Guilt, perhaps? None of this makes sense.  

“Do you have proof of this, Leo?” 

“Dude. Why the fuck would I lie about it? You know damn well she still wants me. Even with her new man in the picture. Seven years she’s tried to get me to take her back. I wish I would have recorded it so you could listen to how desperate she sounded.” 

“Not that, you dick. About the leak.” 

“Oh yeah, that. No, I don’t have proof. But I have a hunch. And I’m usually 90% right about these things.”  

I drop my head in my hands. Yep, the signs are all there. Now, I just have to find a way to prove what I’ve suspected all along. I pull out my phone and shoot a group text to Max, Drake, and Liv, asking them to meet up tonight. If I’m going to nail my ex-wife to the wall, I need my most trusted friends to help me. 

***

Drake, Maxwell, Olivia, my brother, and I meet at The Double Tappe after work. The place is empty — not unusual for a Monday — giving us the whole bar to ourselves. We all congregate in one of the booths in the back and Leo repeats what he told me this morning. Drake and Max are completely shocked by the revelation. Olivia, however, sits there stone-faced. 

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like her,” she says.  

“You don’t like anyone,” Maxwell retorts, then flinches when Olivia punches him in the arm. He rubs the spot where she made contact and turns to me. “Whatcha gonna do about this, Li?” 

“I don’t know. It’s been a month, so it’s going to be hard to prove at this point. I need solid evidence that Madeleine was involved because she’ll never admit to it. The first person I need to talk to is Mara. Hopefully, she can give us some answers.”  

“What about a wire-tap? I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy,” Drake shrugs in between sips of whiskey. 

“Pretty sure that’s illegal in this state,” Olivia says. 

Leo snaps his fingers. “That’s true, but New York is a one-party consent state. So, if one of us gets Madeleine to confess and records it, we technically wouldn’t be breaking the law.” 

“Okay, so who could we get to coerce that kind of information out of her?” I ask. 

Leo leans back and grins, crossing his arms behind his head. We all look at each other, knowing exactly who will handle this task. If anyone can persuade Madeleine to spill the beans, it’s definitely him. 

“How are we going to do this?” Max asks. 

“Well, I say loverboy here tries to seduce her. She’ll tell you anything you want to hear if she thinks she can get you back,” Olivia says. 

“Well then, it’s settled. Work your magic, Leo,” Drake replies. The five of us clink our glasses in celebration, although it feels premature since we don’t have actual evidence against her yet. We spend the rest of the evening sharing drinks, memories, and laughter. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. No kids, no work, no responsibilities. I haven’t done anything like this since college. As we gather up our things to leave, Drake pulls me aside. 

“Hey man, have you talked to Riley, lately?” 

“I’ve been trying to call and text her for weeks, but it’s been radio silence since Madeleine fired her. I even dropped by her apartment a few times, but no one was home. She must think I blame her for all this.” 

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “She does. We tried to tell her that you don’t, but it’s understandable why she would think that. I guess she and Hana had a falling out as well. Last I heard, Hana moved out, so she’s living there by herself. I don’t know where she's working now. She doesn’t come around much anymore. You should try to talk to her again. Maybe explain your side of the story.” 

“Yeah. It’s just… I fucked up, Drake. I don’t blame her for anything. I should have told her that.” I rub the back of my neck. “Truth is, I think I’m in love with her.” 

“You need to tell her, man.” 

I nod, clapping him on the shoulder, then head for my car. The drive back to my penthouse is long, but it gives me time to think. I think back to what Drake told me. About her and Hana’s falling out. I know they’ve been best friends for a long time. Now, she’s alone. To think that if she never met me, none of this would have happened. It’s hard not to blame myself for all of this.

I think back on how different things are with Riley then they were with Madeleine. When I met Madeleine, I was more in love with the idea of her. I married her to please my father, and although I’ll always care for her as the mother of my children, the love was never really there. When I found out she cheated, I was almost relieved.  

The night Riley left, I sat in my study and went over everything that had happened over those few weeks. I feel my chest start to tighten. What is this? Emotion? I had learned to turn them off after Madeleine, but somehow, Riley made them come back. And suddenly, I want to fight for what we have. I never fought for Madeleine, but I feel the urge to for her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever felt that desire for. Making a decision, I take the next U-Turn and make the trip to her apartment.  

I arrive outside her building a few minutes later. Her bedroom window faces the street, and when I peer up at it, I notice the light is on. That’s a good sign. It means she’s home. I exit the car and make my way up to her floor. I pause outside her door, unsure of what to say to her. Come on, Li. Quit stalling and tell her how you feel. I knock on her door a few times and wait patiently for her to answer. I hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and when it swings open, the face on the other side is not the one I’m expecting. 

“Can I help you?” A young man answers the door, wearing only a pair of low-hanging joggers. He eyes me confusingly.  

“Uh…” I stumble, double-checking to see if I have the right apartment. “Is Riley here?” 

“Maybe. Who’s asking?” 

Must resist the urge not to knock this kid on his ass. “Tell her Liam needs to see her.” 

He rolls his eyes and holds a finger up, signaling me to wait, before closing the door in my face. I hear him call out to her on the other side, “Hey, Riley. There’s some suit here to see you. Says his name is Liam.” More shuffling and muffled voices, then the door swings open, and there stands my girl. Her brown locks are piled atop her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts, showing off her long legs, and a Steinhardt t-shirt. She stares at me for a few seconds before snapping out of her daze. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“You haven’t been returning my calls.” 

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “There’s a reason for that.”  

I sigh, dragging my hand down my face. “Riley, please. Just listen to me.” 

“Why should I? You wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain myself.” 

Her words feel like a slap to my face. She’s absolutely right and I can’t argue otherwise. “I know I messed up, but if you give me a chance to explain myself, I’ll be on my way.” 

She turns and looks to the guy in her apartment, then back to me, then again at him. “Give me a sec, Josh,” she says, before stepping out into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind her. “You have two minutes.” 

I exhale. “I’m sorry. I want you to know I’m so sorry. For what I did. Or rather, what I didn’t do. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I never meant to hurt you, Riley. I get why you’re hurt. And if I was in your shoes, I’d feel the same way. When I saw the magazine, I didn’t believe you had anything to do with it, but in that moment, all I could think about was my kids.” 

She nods. “I know. Drake told me. But you could have said something to Madeleine instead of just letting her berate me. I would never do that to Philip and Charlotte. I love them like they were my own.” She looks down at her feet and her voice trembles. “I can’t believe you didn’t trust me when I’ve never given you a reason not to.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “All I’ve ever done is try to make you and those kids happy. Just because your ex-wife hurt you, doesn’t mean I would. You know that. I waited for you, Liam. I knew your circumstances with the divorce, and I still waited. And at the first sign of trouble, you jumped to conclusions. You didn’t give us a chance.” 

I reach out and tip her chin up to look at me. I gently rub her cheek with the pad of my thumb, brushing the tear away. “You’re right. I’m a fucking idiot. I know that now. I owe you so much more than a simple apology. You deserve better than that. I’m hoping it’s not too late to try and fix what I broke. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.” 

She fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. “I don’t know, Liam. I want to believe you. I really do. But I’m still hurt. I wish things had been different with us. I wish we had met under different circumstances. But, you have your children to think about. And I know they are your priority.” 

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Of course they are. But I want to make you my priority too. Tell me what I can do.” 

“Did you figure out who leaked the story?” 

I shake my head. 

She sighs. “I need time.” 

“Not too much time, I hope.” She doesn’t say anything for a long time. The silence between us saying more than our words do. I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it. “I don’t know what else to say, Riley. Just think about it. I’ll be here, waiting.” I pull her hand up to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Then, I turn and head down the hall. The ache in my chest, deep. Knowing that I hurt her is almost too much to bear. The issue with the story is awful, but not taking her side was worse. 

The only thing I can do now is try to make it up to her. 

[theobxhummingbird]

Unreachable (Chapter 4)

(GIF credits to owner) (A JJ Maybank and Nova Fleming love story)

                                                                   The morning, John B took the HMS Pogue and arrived at the Cameron's boat, to drop off the scuba gear. After all, the compass had reached him; it was definitely some sort of sign. His dad was alive and John B was sure of it. He parked the HMS Pogue and hopped on the Cameron's boat. The glass door opened and revealed sleeping Sarah. He looked at her and then started walking; the scuba gear making noises. -Wheezie, shut up. -she moved around and rubbed her eyes. But as John B proceeded to walk, the metal hit something, which made Sarah completely awake. -God! You're not...Wheezie. -Correct. Yeah. -he sighs, -I'm sorry. -What are you doing? -Um...I'm just dropping off some scuba gear. Sarah fixed herself and got up in a sitting position. -What-what are you doing here? -It's our boat? It's also the only place with air conditioning. -Right! -Did you, um...top up the tanks? -Uh...No, no, power's down so the compressors were off. -he cleared his throat. -So, you're sneaking onto our boat at 5:00 am with empty tanks? -she said, looking at John B's speechless face. -I'll make sure to tell Ward. -Okay...okay. -he dropped the gear on the floor. -Yeah, yup, the middle of the room is fine. -Yeah...pretty much, that's what he told me to do. Bye! He started to walk, but then took a step back, -Actually...you know what--what exactly were you going to tell your dad. -Nothing much. Just that you poached our scuba gear. -Okay...uh...I borrowed it for a few hours. Okay? And then I brought it back intact and unharmed. -Minus air. -Okay, please don't tell him. He'll fire me. -What are you going to do? Pull a gun on me? -I didn't know JJ would do that. -That's convenient to believe. Maybe you should get better friends. -Well, maybe you should get a better boyfriend. -John B mocked her moves. -Like one who doesn't poach? -Look, please just don't tell him, okay? -Relax. I'm not going to tell him anything. Your secret's safe with me, John B. -they smiled at each other, -Okay, you can leave now. -Right, uh...I'll leave that--right there. -Bye. -said Sarah, pulling the blanket over herself and going back to sleep. After John B left, Wheezie showed up; now, not only Sarah knows about John B's secret.

Nova got ready for work; getting to the Wreck five minutes earlier this time. Her things were settled in one place and she put her waitress uniform on. There weren't many people at the Wreck, so she had time to text Pope about what their plans are for the day. He texted her saying, him and Kie will be at John B's later that day, and they'll be waiting for her there. While waiting for anything to show up that'll have to do with her job, she took out the journal:

-" Being cared about. A feeling I've been unfamiliar with for a long time. Or I might even say, having people who really care about me. After everything that had happened, I'm not scared anymore; let anything rule wars with me. And that, letting people in my life fear? That's long gone as well.  Maybe this is not who I am, but who I should be. The person I was; that fearful person, transformed into a completely different body. I'm not scared of having friends anymore; knowing they'll never leave me, because they're just like me. Sometimes, I'm scared of being sure; but, what if that's the only thing I need to be? To be sure that everything's going to be good; to be sure that no matter what toughness comes my way, I'l fight through it; no matter what occurs my home life, I'll be there to fix it. I feel like I should be here; the Outer Banks. The one place I never thought of, is now the place I belong to. How weird..."

-Nova. -said Mrs. Carrera, -How are you sweetie? -I'm doing well, Mrs. Carrera, how are you? -I'm well, thank you. Can you please organize a table; we're having friends from business over? Think you can do that? -Yes, yes of course. I'll reserve it in the garden, like always. -Thank you. Have a nice day. -she said, walking away to the kitchen.

The Pogues had already gathered in the Chateau. Earlier, John B and JJ, visited Ms. Lana's house to ask her if she knows anything about the compass. And the both of them, didn't only see Ms. Lana, but the two men who were shooting at them.

-And we were outside like this. -said JJ, leaning on the fireplace-chimney. -And all we hear is just, "Bam, bam, bam!" Knocking paint off the wall, G! From the inside. All right? And I'm just looking at him like-- Wait, first off, look at this. JJ shakes his hair, as white dust comes out of his hair. -That's dandruff, disgusting. -said Kie, looking as it falls on the ground. -Okay, thank you. -said Pope, moving him away. -Look at all this, all right. That's paint. At that point, I was just like... I'm waiting for death. -Oh, okay, so you saw the guys that shot us, right? -said Pope. -Yeah. -Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like? -Yeah, anything. -added Kie. -Anything we can bring to a police report? -Yeah. -Burly. -said JJ. -...Burly? -Yeah. You know like-- -That's not very helpful. -Okay, well, no, like the type of guy at my dad's garage. I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers. -Yeah, yes. No, we know. -I can tell you with full confidence,guys. These boys, these killers, -he takes a blunt, -they're square groupers. -They're square groupers, like narco square grouper? Like Pablo Escobar square grouper. -Yeah, man. -You guys, not everything is kingpin movie. -Okay so, what does this square grouper look like? Specifically. -Dude, you weren't there, bro...-JJ raised his voice. -Because apparently, you don't know what to look for! -Dude! -said JJ, -I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the entire time, man, I was under duress, okay? But I can tell you...I can tell you by the way that Ms. Lana was screaming... that these guys are serious, serious hombres, man. It's a heavy vibe right now, okay? I'm not liking this very much. -Why do they want the compass? -said Kie. -It's a piece of shit. You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to. -Pope turned to John B, -No offense. I know it's in your family-- -The office. -said John B. -My dad. My dad's office. He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. We used to laugh at him like he was going to find it. But now that he's gone, I've just...I just left it as he kept it. -Yeah for when he gets back. -Kie eyes JJ and Pope not to say anything. The four of them walk into Big John's office; crowded with research and many books, as well as maps. John B takes a pinboard, to show the amount of owners that had the compass, before it was passed down to his dead. And surprisingly, everyone dies with it. -Hm. Sounds like there's a reccuring theme here. -JJ adds. -Yeah, you have a death compass. -said Pope. -No, I do not have a de- -You have a death compass. -Get rid of it. Seriously, dude? It's cursed and made its way back to you. -My dad used to talk about this compartment in here. Soldiers used to hide secret notes. -John B sat down, twisting the compass and shaking it to see if something falls off. -What's that? -Kie referred to the cap, where there was a writing. -That wasn't there before. This is my dad's handwriting. -How can you know that? -Because he does these weird Rs with the-- See it? -Can I see it? -said JJ, - "Red--Rout--" -No, I think that's an A. -It says Redfield. -said Kie. -Right. -Okay, well, what's Redfield. -Besides the most common name in the county... -Oh maybe--maybe it's a clue. Maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding. -Okay... -A clue? Come on, that's -- Kie shakes her head for Pope not to say anything, that'll bring John B down, -But if it is a clue, maybe it's an anagram? -Yes. Perfect. Anagram. You need paper. -John B reached for paper and pen and gave it to Pope. -How can you concentrate with that thing crowing at you? -said Pope, referring to the rooster in the coop that kept crowing the whole time. -JJ loves the rooster. -I love the rooster. -Okay, let me think. John B took a paper and wennt to the window, where he can easily write on the table. -Seriously, think. -said Kie. -Dedfiel. Colors--That's stupid. -What about... Ritalin? -Dreidel? Fiddler? -Let's stick with what we're...Defile. Does that mean anything to you? -Guys. -John B looks out the window; a car pulling up at his house, next to the Volkswagen, but no one's listening and they keep guessing. -Guys! Somebody's here. Everyone walks over to the window and sees the same guys that shoot them and the ones who beat up Ms. Lana. -Guys, guys, is that them? -No. -Is that them. -This is suboptimal. -Nova's here as well. Damn it! -said John B. -The girl needs to stay there, she'll get hurt. -What? -said Pope, peeking out the see his friend enter the Chateau, -Oh no! -John B, I told you. -said JJ. -Why does it always--JJ! Hey, look at me. -John B pins him to the wall. -Where's the gun? -Gun-uh-I- -Now you don't have the gun, the one time we need the gun? -Kie starts to pace around in panic. -It was in my backpack, and then I-- -Backpack-- On the porch. -It's on the porch. -JJ walks out, but slips over when they start entering the house and goes back to the office. -John Routledge! -Where's the gun? -They're on the front porch, guys. -Nova's going to come in, we're screwed bro. -said Pope, his hands finding their way on top of his head. -We need to help her and get out of here. -Oh no! Guys, window! Window! Hurry, hurry. JJ and Pope run over to the window, trying to lift it up, but it remains stuck. -Why is it taking so long? -It's painted shut, okay. -Routledge! -Guys, guys, here, I got it. -Kie brings an envelope knife and gives it to the boys. -Shh. One of the men walks over to Big John's office and smashes the door. -You better not be in there! He keeps kicking the door and it manages to crack a bit; pulling his gun out and shooting at the mechanism. Nova's eyes shot up at her friends, and JJ quickly intertwines his hand with hers and they run to the chicken coop. The men open the door and look around Big John's belongings, while the Pogues remain quiet in the chicken coop. They come out with some things from the office; loading them in their car. John B peeks to see what they're doing; Kie panicking and crying on his side. But the rooster keeps crowing. -Do something, Pope. Shut him up. -JJ says through greeted teeth, as his and Nova's hand stay intertwined. -What do you want me to do? -Pet it, or talk to it. I don't know. -Kie said. Rutter closes the back of the jeep, and looks over to the chicken coop, taking out his gun after the amounts of time the rooster flies in it and crows. John B sits down next to Kie. -He heard it. -Nova said, squeezing JJ's hand; the clucking continuing as he walks slowly. -JJ...he heard it.

-I got you, emerald girl. -he said, caressing her hair quickly.

-You do something. -Pope whispers. When the rooster flies over, JJ grabs his neck and pins it to the ground, squeezing it hard until it goes quiet. Kie sobs at the sound of it dying and John B puts his hand over hers. JJ comes and intertwines his hand with Nova's, who peeks to see if he's too close to the coop. -Ratter! What the hell are you doing? Let's go. The guy walks over to the jeep and climbs in it, shutting the door. Kie cries and they all breathe heavily, as the engine starts working; John B peeking to see when they leave. Nova sighs, as the five of them leave the coop, still holding JJ's hand. -Sorry, Novs. -Kie hugs her friend tightly; her whole body trembling. -Are you guys okay? Any of you hurt? -she asks looking at them. -Except the rooster, -said JJ, -the rest of us are fine. The three other friends scratch their head, looking at JJ and Nova, who were unaware of the tight grip of each other's hands. When JJ turns around, he sees them all staring at something. -What, bro? -he said to Pope, swinging his hand in front of his face to get him back to reality. While Kie, eyes Nova at their hands. -Uh...-she slips her hand off of JJ's, -sorry...it was in the heat of the moment. -Yeah...at least you didn't, you know, get hurt because of us. -he scratched his forehead. -Let's go guys, get in the van. -said John B, jumping in the driver's seat.

-I mean, it's obvious, right? -said John B, looking partly at the road and partly at his friends, -A family heirloom. What better place to hide a message? He had to know it was going to get back to me, right? -Yeah, it's possible. -It could also be possible, -spoke Pope, -that you're concocting wild theories to help, you know...deal with your sad feels. -Pope? -Bro, you know how I process my sad feels. Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies, that's how I do it. -I'm not concocting, okay?- John B raised his voice, -My dad's trying to give me a message. -If it helps you believe, John B. -said Kie, licking her lips with a small frown curving them. -Look, I-I don't need a therapy session, okay? Look, I'm not tripping out. -It's okay to trip, bro, but-- -Look, my--dad is missing, okay?Missing. You know what it's like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened. Just wake up every morning wondering. -I understand your pain John B, -Nova added, -really, I do. Your situation is different of course, but not having your parent in your life suddenly...it's just... indescribable. -It's been almost a year. -said Kie. -Hey, he could have been kidnapped. That's definitely a possibility. -Or he's somewhere lost on a desert island; looking for help. -Yeah, he could also be in a Soviet sub, getting interrogated by the KGB somewhere. -Absolutely. -JJ agreed, -Uh...or Atlantis. -JJ. -Kie warned him, turning back to John B, -What do you think the message is? -Redfield. Redfield Lighthouse. That's my dad's favorite place. The Volkswagen parked in front of a big lighthouse; the five of them exiting it and coming in front of the Redfield Lighthouse. -Right. -John B turned to JJ, -You're going to post up and look out for bogeys, okay? -Wait..why me? -Because you're not coming. -said Pope. -Why? -There are independent and dependent variables. And you're an independent. We don't know what you're going to do. -Shut up! Shut up! -Listen to me for a second. Pope, you stand look out with JJ. Okay? Nova will be here too, we won't put her in more danger. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ's house. -Great. -said Kie, stepping away together with John B. -I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay and I'm trying to keep felonies to a minimum. -All right Pope, would you just shut up already. -said JJ, juggling a pinecone. -Leave the kid be, already. -said Nova, leaning against the van. She looked up at the sky, observing the blueness. -Nova. -Pope came over to her, - Can we talk about something, so JJ cannot complain, because there's the two us? -Sure. -she said, looking at Pope,  -Open a topic. -For example...um... what's the possibility, John B finds what he's looking for in that Lighthouse? -In my opinion, he's looking at the wrong place, since the easiest way you find it, is always the wrong place. Big John must've known he'll find this place easier, and left it to a more secretive place than the lighthouse. Maybe there's another place called Redfield. Or maybe I'm just making up my own theory. But something about this place, doesn't feel right to me. -What feels right to you anyways? -said JJ. -Unassuming guys? Safety? It could be. -said Nova. -Wait...what's the deal with you two anyways? -said Pope. -Ms. Nova shall explain the unwanted situation. -No, I know what happened, just why do you have to hate each other? -I don't hate JJ, he's being all presumptuous the whole time. -I don't trust you, okay? Maybe you're Rafe Cameron's secret girlfriend and spread the information all the way to him and then he tells his dad. -I have no idea what Rafe Cameron looks like in first place. I've only seen Sarah and Wheezie, but not Rafe. So stop making assumptions. -You know what, I think you love each other. -Pope, you can't love a person that you met just a few days ago, it's impossible. -Love at first sight? -Yeah bro, you believe in that shit? -Uh, yeah, since you're arguing like a married couple, a person wouldn't think other. -Let's just look out for bogeys and leave these topics for a different time. -Nova said and started looking around to see if she spots an intruder. Suddenly, she hears sirens and spots a police car. -Oh shit! -Pope and JJ start running, leaving Nova behind. -Guys! My foot. -she tries to pull it from the branches. JJ runs back to her, cleaning away the branches from her foot and running back to the van hand in hand with Nova.

After a long time of not coming, JJ, Pope and Nova looked over at the sound of a horn. John B with the van. -Let's ride! -he yelled as the three of them loaded in the van. -This better be good, bro. They drove to the Wreck, where Pope went inside to get Kie. -She said she's not coming. -What'd you do to her, John B? -Shit. Hang on, I'll deal with it. -he opened the door and stepped outside, going to Kie. Suddenly, Nova's phone buzzed and she got a text from Kie saying: "John B kissed me." -Oh! -Nova yelled at JJ's ear, making him jump. -Yo, what is wrong with you, emerald girl? -Just...sudden shock and surprise...sorry.

-You mind if I just relax on this one? -said JJ from the back of the van, -It's been a long day, and a lot of weird stuff's gone down. I'm just going to lay low. Oh, did you want a hit of this? -I keep the signal clear. -said Pope, pushing away JJ's hand. -You, emerald girl? -I keep the signal clear too. -Dude, okay. Do you understand that your problem is that you don't get creative? -said JJ, as Nova rolled her eyes, dropping her head back against the van. -If you got creative, then-- -Look, I--I know I was wrong about the lighthouse, all right? And pretty much wrong about everything else going on. But, I--I was right about one thing. Okay? My dad is trying to tell me something.

-Come on, hey. -said John B in the darkness. -Hey, come on. -I'm coming. This place is scary. -said Kie, stepping out of the van. -I feel like in a Scooby-Doo mystery hunt. -said Nova. -John B what are we doing? -Shut up. Okay. You know how you're trying to remember a song and can't remember who sings it? -Yeah? -So, Redfield. This whole time I thought it was a place, right? But it's not a place. It's a person. -he lights the lantern up to a grave stone, with the name 'Redfield'. -Voi-effing-la. -said JJ. -It's my great-great-grandmother. Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name. -Help me with the door, come on. One...two...three. -John B and Pope push the door slightly open. -Are you pushing? -said Pope, grunting as he pushes the door. -Yeah, I'm pushing. -Come on. -Hold on. I got it. -JJ comes over for help. -Come on, this door's like 700 pounds. It's not going to budge. -We didn't come this far to get this far, all right? -Whoa! -Pope jumps back, as a snake appears from a crack. -A snake! -Whoa, whoa, whoa! -That's a moccasin, all right. Ye olde Dr. Cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. -JJ starts barking to the snake. -JJ, shut up. Shut up! -Oh my god, it's going to bite him, what is he thinking? -said Nova, trying to nudge him to move back. -You're going to freaking wake the dead, man. -They're afraid of dogs. Everyone knows that, man. Wait, hold on, hold on, hold on. -What? -John B and Kie say at the same time. -If there's one, there's probably dozens. All around. -What? -Stop. You're scaring me. -Kie said, as he continued barking. -Stop barking at the snakes. -Shut up! John, look. We're not going to get in there, all right? It's not budging. -I can get in if you want to; I'm not afraid of snakes, did a lot of lab experiments on them. -offered Nova. -No, you're not going in there, emerald girl. Not risking your life for the third time today. You’re staying here with us. -JJ was quick to react.

-Okay, mommy. -said Nova, getting a side glare from JJ.

-We should probably just go. -I can get through. -said Kie. -What?No,no,no,no. You think you're gonna fit through the hole? That hole? -said John B. -Look this is about your dad. And honestly I really don't believe in it, but you deserve to know the truth. I'll do it. Come on. -she walks closer to the grave. -Give her a boost. -I'm going to boost you, all right. -JJ kneels a bit, -I've seen it in the movies several times. Ready? -Remind me what we're looking for. -You'll know when you see it. -Hold my flashlight. -she gives it to Nova. JJ boosts her up and she goes into the grave. -Okay, flashlight? -I got it. -Nova reaches in and hands it to her. -You alive? You got like, a --a heartbeat and everything? -So far. -she looks around. -Uh I need some more light. -Yeah, yeah, here, I got you. -said John B, reaching his lantern inside. -Did you find something? Is there gold? -Oh my god. -said Kie, walking over to a place and stunningly looking at something.

[correctmianitequotes]

(A/N good god this one’s a long one. Sorry not really sorry? lemme know if they’re too long, too short, or just right. as always, feedback is always SUPER appreciated, and if you have any ideas for where the series should go, please please please tell me!)

DAY 2: TUCKER

It’s been about two days on the island. I’m just now getting hungry. I guess now that I’m not constantly sprinting around with heavy armor on all the time I use less energy. Who’da guessed. 

So around midnight last night, while we were collecting seeds and trying to avoiding mobs, Tom said he had something important to discuss. 

“I just want to say I’m calling trial right now. I’m calling trial because just now- Sonja came up to me- and punched me.” Jordan gasped while Tom nodded. Sonja sputtered indignantly.

“I-no I- I didn’t-” Her words were drowned out by Tom’s cool tone. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to have a fair trial here. Tucker, what do you think?”

“I vote she’s dead,” I declared.

“I vote she’s off the island as well!” Tom concurred. “Drown yourself! Drown yourself, woman!” 

“Oh… okay… goodbye everyone.” Sonja waded into the now cold water and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. She had taken off her shoes in the day and was walking around barefoot. Why? No clue. My girlfriend’s weird. 

Jordan, who had been quiet this whole time, diverted the conversation. “Alright, I’m tired of the mobs spawning. I’m lighting things up.”

“Yes, please,” I said. “Like a diamond, Jordan. Like a diamond in the sky.”

“Shine bright like a diamond~,” he sang, placing torches on the ground as he walked. 

“Oh wait, there are two zombie villagers over here!” Tom announced. “We should keep them and turn them back into villagers!”

“Oo! Yeah, let’s lure them into a trap, I got this,” I responded, digging a 2x2 hole in the ground.  Jordan made noises of uneasiness. I walked up to one of the zombie villagers and punched it twice. It started coming after me. Even walking, I outpaced it easily. My teammates were trying to trap the other one. I led my zombie over to the pit. “Come ‘ere, baby.” Unfortunately, the zombie was too smart for its own good and kept going in circles around my pit. 

“We got em! We got him in the pit!” Tom exclaimed. “Right, what should we name him?”

“Larry!”

“Terry Crews!”

“Oh, I guess Terry works,” Jordan conceded. “Still got that -erry theme going for it.”

“Dude, I need some help, this dude does not want to go in. Can someone please come and, like, punch him in here?” I asked.

“We already made a pit,” Tom said. “Come over here.” I followed him, and the zombie followed me. I walked around to the other side to tempt it to come and get me while Tom came up behind it to push it in. 

“Come’ere buddy,” I said. I gave Tom the signal. Tom ended up shoving it WAY TOO HARD and sent it flying RIGHT INTO ME.

“OW TOM WHAT THE SH- I JUST TOOK TWO DAMAGE!” I roared, reeling back. 

“Sorry mate, I guess I’m just too strong,” Tom apologized, flexing his muscles. Jordan laughed and took a swing at the zombie. It started coming back towards me. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I gave it a light tap towards the pit.

“Dude, just hit him in there! Haymaker ‘im! Haymaker ‘im!” Tom cheered. I backed away. 

“I don’t wanna kill it!” 

“Tucker, it has so much health compared to your measly fist!” Jordan prompted me. Now Tom laughed. 

“My measly fist is so strong, though,” I said, looking to my girlfriend. “Right, Sonj?” Sonja just grinned at me. She was watching from the sidelines, letting the boys do the hard work. 

Tom and Jordan teamed up and punched him back over to me. I was up against a ledge in the sand, and got hit again. And again. I was taking some real damage. I screeched in fear, scrambling away towards the torches. 

“Alright, I’m out, I’m not doing this, you guys suck, this was not worth it at all,” I ranted. Right as I said that, Tom and Jordan managed to hit it into the pit. I never realized how well they worked together until our final purge, when they teamed up briefly and absolutely wrecked everyone else. When they actually put their minds together to collaborate, they’re pretty unbeatable. 

I went back to the sand hut to heal. I had gotten hit pretty bad. I watched the entrance as Tom confronted two spiders and a zombie at once. He had gotten hold of an iron sword (probably from Jordan) and started beating the zombie back. This zombie had somehow gotten chain armor, which is weird because this island looks like it’s never had humans on it, ever. Instead of hitting the zombie and getting a nice thwack, all Tom got was a dull clink as his sword came in contact with the armor. Sonja came over to help with her stone sword. 

“Sonja, get out of the way,” I heard Tom mutter to her, concentrating on landing the blows just right. In the two and a half days we’ve been on the island, Sonja has already wandered into possible harm’s way twice now. The first time was when she was checking out the mine and kept walking in front of Jordan while he was trying to swing his pickaxe. 

“Sonja, get out of the way!” he reproached, nearly goring her with his stone pick. 

“Sorry!” she replied. “I’m just so curious!” 

“Well come be curious over here,” I said to her. She’s not very good at being aware of her surroundings. While Tom can never stay on task, she gets tunnel vision and ignores everything around her. Jordan’s good at both. It’s unconscious for him, I think. He’s been through so many worlds that checking over his shoulder is natural for him. If anyone of us makes it to the end (which we all probably will, ‘cept for Sonja. Sorry Sonj.), I think it’ll be him. 

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Anyways, back to the zombie fight. Sonja took out the spiders while Tom hit the zombie again and again. Finally, it dissipated in a puff of smoke, along with the armor. Damn. 

“I’m getting pretty hungry. Tucker, do you still have those apples?” she asked me. I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “Nah, I had to eat them. I’m still about half way away from being all healed up, and I need food too, so.” 

As the sun rose, so did our need for food. I could hear Sonja’s stomach growling. I wasn’t super hungry, but in order to properly heal I would need at least another apple or something. 

 It was actually Tom who came up with a solution. “Alright, this is now Team Fishing, bitches,” he announced. “Who’s fisharooing with me?”

“I’ll fish,” I offered. “Let’s go on a fishing trip. It’ll be fun.” I stepped over to the water and sat down on the sand, preparing to cast. 

Sonja’s voice distracted me. “Alright, these two chickens have banged and now there’s another one, should I kill one for food?” I frowned and put down my rod. 

“Don’t kill the chicken,” I told her, making my way over to her. 

“Well, no, I made them bang, see, and-”

Out of nowhere, I heard screaming behind me. I whipped around and saw Tom clutching himself, staring at a tree that had apparently just grown. Jordan, who had been right near him, was laughing. 

“Wait, what just happened?” I asked. 

Jordan laughed some more, putting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Dude, are you okay?” 

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” Tom yelled. He didn’t seem to be injured, from what I could tell. “I AM AGAINST TREE GROWTH!” He started marching around, pulling up all those saplings I had planted. 

“What just- what was that?” I asked again. I’m still not really sure, but from what I understand- 

Wait. One second. 

Okay, so Tom has requested that he gets to write the part where he nearly died on day 2. I’m handing the pen over to Tom. 

Okay, so I was just walking around the island, when suddenly, I stepped over a sapling, and it just- f-ckin- grew on me! The tree was just like, “nope”. And it hurt alot, too! I have splinters everywhere, I’m going to be picking wood out of my toes and torso for days. Anyways, I am now #antitreegrowth and will now chop down any sapling that I see. And that is the story of I nearly died to a f-ckin tree. F-ckin Groot. Alright, peace, homies!

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Okay, so I just got the paper back, and I see that Tom doesn’t know how to spell “a lot”, so nice going Tom. 

Anyways, once Tom’s near death experience was over, we got back on track with fishing. I cast my rod into the water and sat down on the beach again. 

“Any extra fishing rods I could borrow? I can help with fishing, too,” Jordans commented. 

“Right, because we need food,” said Tom helpfully. (See what I mean about not staying on task?) He and Sonja were talking about breeding when I felt a tug on my rod. I jumped up excitedly and pulled. I reeled in my spoils. 

“GUYS, I CAUGHT A FEESH! A one pound feesh!” I exclaimed. I immediately went to put it in the furnace. It was a decently sized fish. Definitely not enough to feed a crowd of 10,ooo people or whatever Jesus did, but definitely enough to stop hunger pangs. 

“Aw nice!” Tom said. He gave me a thumbs up as he chopped down a tree with personal intensity. “Can I please have it?”

I thought for a moment. ‘Of course not, I caught the damn thing.” If I didn’t heal up these zombie wounds soon, they would get infected and I would end up looking like Tom (I would still be better looking than Tom, of course, but I like having non-green skin and not having to cover most of my body to avoid catching on fire when I stand out in the sun too long). Then I thought about how Tom did kind of save my ass from zombies earlier, and almost died to a tree, and how it’s always a good thing to reward Tom for remembering his “pleases” and “thank yous”.

“I’m putting it in the furnace for you,” I told him, sliding the fish in there. I’d eat the next one that I caught. 

“Really? Aw, thanks, man.” Tom sounded sort of surprised. I went back over to the ocean, where I saw Jordan standing with a fishing rod that he had borrowed from Tom. I plopped down next to him. 

Jordan sighed. “This is gonna take so long,” 

“Wanna crack open a beer?” I joked. Sidenote about me, I actually like fishing. It’s relaxing, and there’s a bonus in the fact that you get to eat something once you’re done. Just as I said that, I noticed Jordan’s sinker disappear.

“I got something”

“Reel it in, reel it in!” 

When Jordan pulled his line in, however, he did not get a delicious fish. He got an enchanted fishing rod! Lucky bastard. 

“Tom, here’s a return on your investment. One fishing rod,” Jordan said, proudly presenting his rod to Tom. 

Tom took it and checked it out. “Wait, now all three of us can fish!”  He jumped down the sand bank and sat in between Jordan and I. 

“That’s really odd, though. Like, we’re in the middle of nowhere. How did a fishing rod get out here?” Jordan wondered.

“Same thing with the armor and the zombie!”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we aren’t alone out here. Maybe other people have already been here and died and we’re next.” Everyone got quiet for a second, contemplating this theory. Then Tom broke the silence by launching into what he believed what was the history of this great island. Still, the idea that we weren’t the first lingered in my mind like the smell of fish in the air.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

We fished and shot the breeze for a couple of hours. Whenever we caught one, we would hand it off to Sonja, who would put it in the furnace while she worked on improving our base.

“I had no idea this would be so efficient!” Tom remarked. 

“E-fish-ent?” Jordan made that face he makes whenever he tells a stupid pun. Sonja and I groaned. Tom laughed, but Tom laughs at everything Jordan says. 

Sonja popped up at the top of the sand bank. “Hey tucker, do you need some feesh?” 

“I do, actually.” I responded. She dropped it on my head. 

“Wow, thanks Sonj,” I said, gobbling it up as fast as I could without choking on the bone. I started to feel better after that. Now all I needed was a good dip in salt water and bam! No more worrying about getting mistaken for zombie (or worse: Tom) and being killed by one of my teammates. I decided to wade into the water and sit down in the shallow part, letting my wounds take in the salt water. It stung a little, but the water was cool and it felt nice. Once we caught enough fish to last us a little while, we all went about separate tasks. I was in the mine when I heard Sonja say to no one in particular, “Where did my rabbit go?”

“Why’s it your rabbit? It’s gonna be our rabbit,” I retorted. 

“I guess so… Yay! I found him!” 

“What’s his name?” Tom asked. 

“Hmmm... “ Here we go again. It’s basically a law a law that you have to name every single thing that moves. First the zombie villagers, now this.

“Well he kind of looks like a cow…” 

“Name it Moo the Rabbit,” I suggested. “Or Bud.”

Sonja sounded like she liked that name.“Moo! Moo the Rabbit.” 

I ventured back up to the surface. I had gotten loads of iron and coal. The sun was setting again when I got up there, and I could smell porkchops. I saw my girlfriend chasing a bunny around, Jordan working on the house to make it less crap, and Tom improving our farm so that we could breed the cows that had appeared. I took a deep breath and smiled. We are gonna make this work. 

Well, either Tom or Sonja’s recording after me, so you’ll find out what happens next when they writes it all down. I’m actually pretty stoked. Good things are ahead.

Signing off,

Jericho.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

[wittywallflower]

One of them (probs Pen) getting so jealous she sprouts out she is in love with Schneider

Here it is!

Group therapy leads Penelope to an epiphany about her feelings for Schneider

“Penelope, we havent heard from you yet.” Pam kept her voice admirably neutral.

“I don’t got a lot to say.” Penelope waved off the group therapy leader with a smile.

More than one eyebrow went up. The Cuban was not known as being the wallflower of the group. Penelope knew that and didn’t fail to notice the disbelief on some faces.

“Really.” She insisted “Things are really good right now. I don’t need to take the time away from people with problems they need to talk about. You’ve all listened to my problems plenty.”

“And we are always here to help with those.” Pam said. "But its important for all of us to take the time to acknowledge and celebrate the good things as well. Seeing each other succeed and be happy is a reminder that its possible for all of us, no matter what we are dealing with.”

The women around the circle nodded at that. The therapy meetings helped them in a lot of ways. They had shed a lot of tears together but also shared a lot of smiles and a lot of laughter.

“So, Penelope, would you like to share the good things with us?” Pam asked.

“Okay, well”, Penelope rubbed her palms down her jeans as she considered where to begin. “As you know, i finished my exams. I am officially an NP.”

She took a moment to preen as there was another round of congratulations from her friends.

“And honestly, its like I can breathe again. So much of the pressure is off; no more tests, no more studying, no more researching the reproductive habits of frogs, as if that’s ever going to come up when i am treating bronchitis.” She shook her head, pantomiming shaking off that mental load. “I’m not even nervous about doing the job, I actually feel totally confident in my abilities.”

Which was a marvel when she remembered how she used to second guess her decisions as a nurse, asking Dr. Berkowitz for a consult on so many things she wouldn't question these days.

“Mi mami’s doctor is really pleased with her health, she’s not even fighting me about some of the dietary changes anymore. Elena is an essay writing machine right now, she is raking in so many scholarships for college. So that’s an anxiety attack i don't have to have until next year. Let’s see, what else… Alex has his first serious girlfriend now.”

That had the group chuckling and those who had mothered teen boys expressed their sympathies.

“Yeah, I hear that.” Penelope continued. “But I’ve met her and her family goes to my church. She’s a real good girl. One of the ones we would have called stuck up prudes back in high school, you know? Even Alex couldn’t charm her into anything too bad.

“My tax return was very nice this year. Oh, and I tried that tapas place 3 blocks over on Cayuga street with Schneider last weekend! Food’s a little pricey but the drinks are cheap and really good. We should all go sometime.”

The expected reaction would be for the group to enthuse about a new place to grab post-therapy cocktails but instead Penelope met mostly questioning faces.

“So you’re finally dating that dude?” Ramona asked.

“What? Schneider?” Penelope shook her head in denial. "No, we just got dinner together.”

“Just the two of you?” Penelope nodded in answer to that. “The two of you at a trendy new restaurant on a date night?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date. We eat together most nights.” she said.

“At home with your mom and kids, not alone out on the town. Did you split the bill?”

“Well, no, he paid.” Penelope had to admit, but she was quick to explain. “But that’s just because he lost a bet we had."

I don’t know,” Ramona said, "still sounds a lot like a date. Do you two usually hang out together when one of you isn't having a crisis?”

“No.”

Not without the rest of the family around. But for the group, that just made their solo outing together seem more significant.

Jill tried to back her up.

“It better not be a date. Doesn’t that Schneider guy have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“Actually, they broke up.” Penelope had to admit.

“Really?”

Jill raised an eyebrow and grinned at the other women, who she had spoken to at length about Schneider’s attractiveness after meeting him at Penelope’s place. Then Penelope’s car was in the shop once, requiring Schneider to drop her off at a meeting. They’d all taken a good long look for themselves that night; after that he became a regular topic of admiring conversation.

“So if he isn’t dating her, and he isn’t dating you… what’s he doing Friday night?” Jill asked.

The group laughed and Penelope joined them at first but then waved the idea off.

“Actually there’s some old musical airing on one of the Spanish channels that night, he promised to watch it with my mom,” she said.

It was really sweet of Schneider to agree to that. The old films tended to make Lydia emotional with memories of home and her Berto. Schneider loved listening to her stories and was always good at cheering the older woman up with requests for dancing lessons or some gentle flirting.

Penelope sensed the stares from the group again. What? It wasn’t that weird for a man to sacrifice his Friday night to keep an old lady he wasn't even related to company. At least not if that man was Schneider. He did macrame with his tenants so they wouldn’t get lonely, por dios. Abruptly, Penelope shifted gears.

“But if you want, Jill,” she joked, elbowing her friend in the side, “I can ask if he is free Saturday night.”

Jill shook her head with a grin. “I’m busy Saturday, what about Sunday? Does he go to worship? 'Cause as we all know i can rock the hell out of a sundress, and he’d look real good on my arm walking into church.”

The whole group cracked up at that.

“I’ll take him Saturday night!”  Another woman piped up. “My cousin is getting married and a hot, rich guy will make a better date than Tom from the mail room at work.”

“No one is forcing you to take Tom.” Penelope pointed out.

“Yeah but its a wedding and going to a wedding alone is just asking for pity.” she said.

Penelope really couldn’t deny that after her own experience at Victor’s ceremony. She’d actually been tempted to ask Schneider to be her date to that. So she wasn’t sure why it rubbed her wrong now to think of him being someone else’s wedding arm candy.

“So, what’s wrong with Tom then?” she asked.

“Um, he’s not a really rich, really hot, really tall Canadian that i want to climb like a maple tree?”

The eruption of ribald laughter covered Penelope’s silent reaction.

‘Hey, he went to your daughter’s quinces right? How does he look in a suit?”

The reminder of Schneider in his suit, weirdly-sexy with that smooth face and no glasses hiding those bright blue eyes of his, … Penelope couldn’t help it, she blushed a bit at the memory.

“Wow, that good huh?” Jill teased her when Penelope didn’t answer. “You know, I have a wedding to go to in 3 weeks myself…”

More laughter. These women loved to talk smack and riff off each other. Penelope knew it was an all a lot of bluster and bullshit. Usually she gave as good as she got. But she was quiet now, strangely unsettled by the words flying around her.

“Is there a waiting list a girl can get on?” was asked with seeming earnestness.

Yeah, so what? So Schneider was kind of hot; kind of really hot. That had never affected Penelope’s opinion of him, or how she treated him. He wasn’t some piece of meat.

“Yeah, I don’t need him for a date,” Ramona stated the obvious, “but I wouldn’t say no to him helping me change my brake pads.”

“My mom’s retirement party is in March. Does he do the fake boyfriend thing, or will that cost extra?”

“Cost extra? If Richie Rich isn’t paying for everything, what’s the point?"

The jokes came fast and easy, but Penelope wasn't finding them very funny. What was he, some sugar daddy for these girls to use and discard? Sure, maybe he did stuff for her sometimes that didn’t exact fall under a landlord’s duties, but that was different. They were friends, they did things for each other, took care of each other. It wasn’t like that.

She was special.

She tried not to acknowledge the thought, just like she tried not to face the fact that she didn’t want to share that with anyone. She didn’t want to share him.

Being quiet really wasn’t a Penelope trait, so her friends took pointed notice that she wasn’t joining the banter. They had been hearing about this guy for years, wondering when or if the two would ever stop dancing around each other. Of course, it is entirely possible for a man and a woman to be close friends on an entirely platonic basis.

But its also possible to be in denial when one’s feelings start to change.

They had listened over the years as he became increasingly important in her life. And they certainly were not above baiting Penelope into admitting it.

“Hey Pen, you’ve seen him in bike shorts. What’s he packin’?” one bold voice asked. Penelope went rigid in her seat. “Now there’s one tool of his I’d like to borrow!”

Oh hell no.

“Well, you can’t!” Penelope snapped.

“Well, if no one else is using it…”

“He’s not a gigolo, or some boy-toy for you to play with!” Penelope exploded. "He’s been through a lot and he’s had too many people let him down!”

Pam settled a hand on her arm and Penelope realized she had been shifting in her seat in agitation. “Penelope, we’re just joking around. You know that. Can we talk about why it bothers you so much?”

“He’s such a good man and so many people look down on him and treat him like he is worthless, even his own family. I don't want that for him. He deserves better.”

“We know he means a lot to you-”

“Yeah. He does.” Penelope cut Pam off. “I don’t know what I’d do with out him. I rely on him to help me with my anxiety attacks. I trust him with my mami and my kids. I, I…”

She groped for the words, trying to find some way to explain it to these women. To make them understand that Schneider’s presence in her life was a blessing, that any person would be lucky to have him around. How to make them see what an amazing guy he is. And also why she couldn’t stand anyone else getting the same special Schneider treatment she got. Didn’t want to do it all without his help.

The group didn’t make it easier for her. They could sense Penelope was on the cusp of a revelation. There were no jokes now, no pointed comments about Schneider’s abs, or queries into any desire Penelope might have to run her tongue over them. They knew that when Penelope got started, sometimes it was best to just let her go, let her ramble and rant and rave until she led herself to the obvious conclusion. They had been waiting for her to work this one out.

Penelope looked around at the expressions on their faces. No one seemed surprised by her spirited defense of Schneider. More impressively, no one was even smirking in that “haha, got you to admit you don’t hate him” kinda way. Suddenly it seemed like the group knew her better than she knew herself. Like they knew what the denial had kept her from acknowledging all along and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Holy crap, I love him.”

Penelope breathed out a sigh at the intense realization. It was a surprise. Of course. When had she fallen for the man-baby? But judging by the feeling of relief, the loosening of a tension she hadn’t even known she was holding, it had been a long time coming. She smiled, feeling like another weight had been lifted from her chest and she was taking a full deep breath for the first time in years.

Then her mind started to race again. Her smile fell and when her eyes darted around the group again, they had a slightly panicked look in them. Acknowledging her feelings was one thing (one damned difficult thing), but acting on them?

“Well, what now?!?” she asked in a panic.

[uas-fics]

Title: Sleeping Like Adults

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time in four years, Craig and Tweek get to sleep in the same room!

Ships: Creek with a few other minor ships

Other: For @thefabutrash​ for the @creekcrew​‘s Secreek Santa event. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays! =D

Check the first reblog for the AO3 link

~~~~~~

Craig Tucker had never fancied himself a genius before, but as he plopped down in the back of the bus, he couldn't imagine himself anything less.

He pulled his bag into his lap, just to make sure he brought everything with him: toothbrush, pajamas, cell phone charger, a change of clothes, and most importantly, a new pack of correction tape and an ink pen.

Clyde slid into the seat next to him. He waited until the chaperone finished roll call and sat down before elbowing Clyde in the ribs.

"Did you get it?" Craig asked as the bus started forward.

Of course, Clyde got it. Why was Craig even asking? Clyde was his bro, helping bros share rooms with their boyfriends is part of the Bro Code, and Clyde swore by the Bro Code. There was no way Clyde didn’t get it!

Since Clyde's dad was the chaperone of their club trip, it would be super easy for him to get the rooming list. All Craig had to do was white out his roommate’s name and change their name to Tweek's! Once all was said an done, Clyde could just say he accidentally grabbed the sheet when they got to the hotel.

It was perfect!

Clyde laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "Ok, so, about that. I don't have it."

"What? Clyde, dude, that was your one job!" Craig cried. He looked around, hoping no one heard his outburst. If anyone did, they didn’t seem to care.

"I know, I know, but Dad didn't have the class list printed out." Clyde shook his head. "He has it on his phone -- Google Docs, I think."

Craig groaned, slumping back in the faux leather bus seat. "That was my only chance, Clyde!"

"I don't get why this is such a big deal, dude. You and Tweek have sleepovers all the time." Clyde took his phone from his pocket. "How's a hotel any different than the ones at your house?"

"It's different because our parents aren't there." Craig leaned his shoulder into the window. "Whenever we have a sleepover, our parents go out of their way to make sure we don't actually sleep in the same room anymore."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in Tweek's guest room and Tweek has to sleep on the couch." Craig shut his eyes as his goal fell out of reach.

He and his boyfriend hadn't been allowed to sleep in the same room overnight since they were eleven, nearly four years ago. It didn't help the matter that both their parents were strict on them keeping the door open when they were together, either.

Clyde set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, dude. Unless we can get my dad's phone, there is no way to change it."

Craig's eyes snapped open. He bolted up as Clyde continued, "Maybe next time we have a group sleepover at my house, you and Tweek can bum it in the guest room and--"

Craig slapped a hand over Clyde's mouth.

"Clyde, that's it." A sly grin spread across his face. "That's it! Help me get your dad's phone. If the document is on Google Docs, maybe I can edit it!"

The color drained from Clyde's face.

"What?!" He choked out. "Dude, I can't do that. It's not a piece of paper. It's my dad's phone! If I take it and mess with it, he'd kill me!"

Craig took hold of Clyde's arm in an iron grip. He fixed his unwavering gaze with Clyde's uneasy one.

"If you help me do this, I'll take the fall if we get caught," He promised. With a squeeze, Craig added, "And I'll let you have my dessert at lunch for the rest of the year."

Clyde squirmed in his seat and bit his lip. He looked away then groaned.

"Fine!" Clyde relented. "Fine, fine, fine! How do you plan on doing it?"

The moment Craig dropped his hand, Clyde started to rub his arm. It probably wasn't going to bruise, and even if it did, Clyde was still getting the better end of this deal. Everyone loved the brownies they got on Thursdays with their corn dogs.

"It's simple. The ride to the hotel is four hours, right? Go up to your dad at the first rest stop and ask if you can play on his phone. Just make something up, like yours ran out of battery,” Craig explained.

"How do you know he'll give me his phone?" Clyde asked, looking down at his smartphone.

"No offense, Clyde, but your dad is kind of a pushover." Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you pout like you always do, he'll let you borrow it. I'm sure."

"I don't pout," Clyde snapped. "I'm way too manly to pout."

Craig didn't try to correct any of the lies in that statement. Instead, he leaned back into the seat with a smirk.

Yes, for sure, Craig Tucker was a genius.

~~~~~

"Now, kids, settle down!" Mr. Donovan called over the shouting and yelling of the robotics club. He had to yell a few more times before everyone quieted enough that he could be heard.

Mr. Donovan pushed his glasses up. "Alright, kids, as you know the gardening club is also going to the museum this weekend, and since Kevin got on the wrong bus, we're going to wait at the rest stop for a few minutes so the garden club's bus can swing by and drop him off."

A few of the students groaned. Craig couldn't entirely blame them. The trip was already long and boring, waiting at a rest stop only prolonged the suffering.

The teacher sponsor of the robotics club pushed himself from his seat and sent a glare over the student, silencing any protests.

Mr. Donovan nodded approvingly. "Alright, now, everyone file out to use the restroom and stretch your legs."

Moments later, the robotics club had shuffled off the bus. Craig lifted himself up on his toes as he stretched.

"Ok, you ready?" Craig asked.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Can a guy pee first?"

"No," Craig deadpanned. He reached into Clyde's jacket pocket and took his phone.

Ignoring Clyde's protests of "Hey! What the fuck?", Craig took the phone out of its case then turned it over to pull the back off. He pried out the battery before pocketing it.

As he reassembled the phone, he explained, "If your dad needs proof, you can press and hold the power button without it turning back on."

Clyde scrunched up his face as he took his phone back. "Fiiiiine." Spinning on his heels, he headed towards his dad.

Craig took a few steps towards a bench to casually sit and watch as his amazing plan came to fruition.

Mr. Donovan's head went up when Clyde called his name. He gave his full attention to his son while Clyde held up his phone and pointed.

Craig's heart skipped a beat when Mr. Donovan reached for the phone. If Mr. Donovan held Clyde's phone, he would feel the weight difference. Luckily, by some miracle, he stopped before he could touch it.

They talked for another few minutes before Clyde returned with a solemn look on his face.

"He says I'm just out of luck, and he'll look at it at the hotel." Clyde shook his head.

"Fuck!" Craig clenched his fists. "We have to get that phone, Clyde! Just let me think a minute..."

"Dude, maybe you should just give it up." Clyde shrugged. "Like I told you, next sleepover at my house, you can--"

Craig jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. Plan A never works. That's just facts. Plan B, though, Plan B would be perfect!

He dug around in his pockets then held the contents in his palm. Craig flicked the pocket lint out of the pile then shoved the ink pen behind his ear.

He turned over the pack of Fruit Stripe gum he stole from his sister. With his braces, he technically wasn't supposed to chew this type of gum, but what his orthodontist didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Shoving the gum and the phone battery into Clyde's hands, Craig began to count his change out.

Disregarding the pennies, he had a grand total of fifty-five cents.

"Clyde, give me a dollar." Craig made a gimme motion with his hand.

"What? No! You have a wallet on the bus," Clyde said but took out his wallet anyway. He fished out a one dollar bill, which Craig snatched.

Without a word to Clyde, he dashed towards the vending machines. Of course, there was a line.

Craig tapped his foot impatiently as some sophomores he didn't know jabbered on about something he didn't care about.

What was taking them so long to buy a soda? Every second they wasted talking, was a second less Craig had for his plan! Didn't they know that the gardening club bus would be here soon?

A bottle made a thunking sound when it fell. Craig took a step forward, only for one of them to feed another dollar into the machine.

Craig and Tweek weren't in any of the same clubs this year. The pure coincidence that the science museum would hold both an exhibition on space age robotics and sustainable farming was a blessing from God that Craig didn't want to waste!

When he was only ten seconds away from pushing the sophomores out of the way, they finished. Still animatedly talking, they walked away with an arm full of soda each.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Finally." He muttered, just loud enough for the sophomore he was passing to hear. She shot him a dirty look, and Craig flipped her off. The sophomore scoffed but didn't try to pick a fight.

After smoothing out the dollar on the side of the machine a few times, Craig fed Washington’s visage into the dollar slot and pressed the Coke option.

Sold out.

Any of the drinks would work, so long as they were sticky and sugary, so he pressed the Diet Coke.

Sold Out.

Pepsi.

Sold out.

Diet Pepsi. Sprite. Double Dew.

Sold out. Sold out. Sold out.

The only option he had left was Gatorade and water.

Cursing those sophomores with every fiber of his being, Craig pressed the Gatorade option. This was the last drink that had sugar in it.

He braced himself, waiting.

Th-thunk!

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he knelt down to retrieve the cherry sports drink.

When he returned to Clyde, Craig had already cracked open the drink and chugged some of it.

Clyde frowned. "Not to poke holes in whatever your plan is, but I doubt electrolytes are going to help."

"It's not the electrolytes I need," Craig smirked. "I'm going to walk over and then 'accidentally' trip and spill this all over your dad's pants."

"You're going to what?" Clyde cried, only for Craig to elbow him in the stomach. He doubled over, clenching his middle.

"Quiet! Look, all you need to do is steal your dad's pants when he's changing them. It'll be easy."

Clyde looked up from his bent over position. "This is not a good plan, Craig!"

"Are you my bro or aren't you?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, Clyde muttered, "I'm your bro..."

"Good, now get ready."  Craig nodded sharply. Clyde flashed a thumbs up before hobbling over to sit on the bench.

With a breath, Craig started towards Mr. Donovan. Luckily for him, Mr. Donovan was distracted, chatting with the teacher.

Honestly, this should have been Plan A. What was he even thinking with the original Plan A? Of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't going to give up his phone because Clyde's ‘broke’! Even if he did, he would have probably logged off all his apps.

Someone hip checked Craig, sending him stumbling to the side. The bottle fell from his hands. The rest of the liquid spilled over the concrete.

Craig stared, flabbergasted, as his Plan B flowed down a crack in the sidewalk towards the grass.

Someone snickered. Craig spun around, ready to fight. The sophomore he'd flipped off smirked at him before heading towards the rest of her friends.

Shaking, Craig took a step towards her. He was not above starting a fight in the middle of the public rest area.

Clyde came up then and caught his arm.

"Not worth it, dude," He said with a shake of the head.

"Fuck me!" Craig groaned. "Clyde, another dollar. Let me try again--"

The gardening club's bus pulled up before Clyde could pull out his wallet.

Clyde patted his back reassuringly.

"Sorry, man," He offered softly.

"Yeah," Craig heaved a sigh then straighten up. He shoved his disappointment down as he began to scan the crowd of garden club kids for his favorite shock of blond hair.

He spotted him hanging around Token. Before his club was called to their bus, he and Clyde hurried over.

"You can explain it all you want, I still don't get it." Token was saying.

"No, like, dude, agroforestry isn't hard; it's--Craig!" Tweek cut himself off, smiling.

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted, pulling Tweek into a half-hug. Tweek snaked his arm around Craig's waist and leaned against him as Craig held his fist out for Token, who bumped it.

"Hey, dudes," Token nodded to him and Clyde.

"Having fun learning about dirt?" Clyde teased. "This is what you get for being so whipped by your girlfriend."

Token rolled his eyes, but he didn't have a counter to that. The only reason he joined Garden Club was because Nichole asked him to.

From what Tweek had said, Token's thumb was 'averagely green'. Though he could tend to plants, he didn't care about doing it and spent most of his time sitting around or organizing the supplies.

"Clyde, how many times have you been on Bebe's beck and call during volleyball practice?" Craig snorted. He pitched up his voice to mock, "'Bring me my water, Clyde. Can you get my towel for me, sweetie? Go grab the ball, baby!'"

Token laughed into his hand while Clyde's face went red. Craig felt Tweek's shoulder shake in laughter just a little under his arm.

"Oh, screw you," Clyde snapped. "I'm going to find Kevin." With that, Clyde spun around to search the rest of the crowd.

"How's your ride going?" Tweek asked when Clyde disappeared.

"Boring," Craig admitted.

"We had a kid throw up," Token commented. "That's why we're late. We had to turn around, take him home, and get a new bus."

Craig cringed. "That's really gross."

"It kind of worked out, since we were able to pick up Kevin." Tweek pointed out.

The trio chatted for a few more minutes before Mr. Donovan called Craig’s name. "Craig, come get back on the bus. I need to do a headcount." He shouted.

 Tweek pulled himself from Craig's side. "See you at the hotel, Craig." Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

Reminded of the hotel and their separate rooming, Craig fought to keep himself from deflating.

"Yeah, see you there." He waved before heading back towards his bus. As he crawled on and made his way towards the back seat, he noticed that sophomore girl sitting near the front. Her bag was half in the aisle.

With a smirk, Craig purposely stepped down hard on it. He heard a pencil snap but kept walking anyway. As tempting as it was to see if she noticed, he couldn't risk it looking like he did it intentionally.

He sat back down, leaning to look sullenly out the window until the rest of the bus hustled on, except for Clyde. Craig eyed the empty seat next to him with a frown. He hadn't hurt Clyde's ego that much, had he?

"Ok, roll call!" Mr. Donovan said, clearly not noticing his son wasn't on board. He patted his pockets. "Oh, uh, where is it?" Turning out his pockets, he furrowed his brow.

"Hey, kids," Mr. Donovan raised his voice. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had--"

"Here it is, Dad!" Clyde held up Mr. Donovan's phone as he and Kevin climbed up the steps. "You left it on the bench outside."

"Oh, thank you, Clyde." His dad nodded, taking the phone.

Craig stared at Clyde with wide eyes as he came down the aisle to sit.

Clyde smiled proudly, reminding Craig of a puppy wishing to be praised.

"Who's your bro?"

"You are. You’re the best fucking bro ever!" Craig put his hand on Clyde's shoulder and shook him.

So what if Plan A failed, and Plan B was doomed before it could start?

Craig could always count on Plan Clyde to make it through to the end!

~~~~

Of the brilliant ideas Tweek had ever had, drinking an entire gallon of Arizona sweet tea on the two hour ride was not one of them.

Honestly, the whole idea of bringing the jug of tea instead of his thermos of coffee had been on his dad’s prompting that Tweek should ‘slow down’ on the coffee drinking. His parents claimed it was ‘for his health,’ but Tweek knew that was a lie.

They still hadn’t gotten over Tweek using some of their special roast last week. He didn’t even get to drink any before they saw him making it and got mad!

That was how Tweek ended up with a gallon of tea instead — a gallon he’d absentmindedly down not even halfway to the rest stop.

He had been sitting on a bladder that was about to burst for the last hour. Then when they did finally stop, Craig tracked him down before he could make it to the restroom.

The whole time they were talking with Token and Clyde, Tweek felt his eyes floating a little higher. He nearly shouted out in relief when Mr. Donovan called Craig back to his bus.

Tweek washed his hands in the rest stop sink. The whole place smelled a little too strongly of cheap soap and lemon cleaner. Something that strong smelling could only be covering up something that smelled even worse.

Tweek had little desire to find out what that smell was, so he forwent drying his hands to instead hurry out the door.

He nearly barreled into Kevin.

"Oh, sorry, Tweek!" Kevin said as he bobbed around him into the restroom.

Standing just outside the door, Clyde leaned against the wall, playing on a phone, but not his own. Clyde's phone case had glittery football and baseball stickers Bebe put on it. The one he had was just plain silver.

"Clyde?" Tweek turned his head a bit to the side.

Clyde jumped. "Ah, Tweek, hey, man, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you be heading towards your bus?" Tweek asked.

"Yeah, just waiting for Kevin." Clyde shoved the phone into his pocket. "He didn't have fifteen minutes to dick around like we had."

It had been a stroke of luck that right as they returned to the bus barn at the high school, Kevin's mom pulled up. Apparently, he overslept.

"Oh, right, I guess that's true." Tweek nodded.

Clyde twiddled with his thumbs a moment, humming to himself. He held back a smile, and that made Tweek uneasy.

"What?" Tweek wrung his hands in his shirt.

Clyde was about to burst when he finally blurted out, "You and Craig share a room at the hotel!"

"W-what?!" Tweek choked on the word.

"Yeah, dude. I guess the teachers didn't know you were boyfriends or something." He cheekily elbowed him in the ribs. "Lucky duck, aren't you?"

Before Tweek could reply, Kevin exited the restroom.

"Come on, Clyde, we have to hurry back to the bus." Kevin grabbed Clyde's arm.

"Right." Clyde nodded. To Tweek, he teased, "Don't have too much fun later tonight." He punctuated his tease with a wink before letting Kevin drag him towards the bus.

Tweek watched, suddenly frozen to the ground, as Kevin and Clyde made their way to their bus.

The bus rumbled to life, the door shut, and pulled out of the parking lot before Tweek melted. The moment he could move his feet again, he dashed across the grass to the playground.

Nichole sat at the top of a jungle gym that was much too small for a high school student while Token leaned against it.

Tweek wasted no time darting up to Token, grabbing his shoulders, and screaming into his chest.

"Holy shit, Token! Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!" Tweek panted. His eyes darted around in panic.

"W-Wow, Tweek, dude," Token furrowed his brows, "calm down."

Tweek turned a quick glare towards him. Token knew fully well that telling him to 'calm down' didn't help! It just made Tweek realize how much he was panicking more than before!

Nichole slid off the jungle gym. She set a hand on Tweek's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Clyde, He--!! The teachers fucked up, and, and, and!" Tweek grabbed his hair. "The teachers assigned Craig and me to the same room!"

Token's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Lucky." He turned a flirty smile to Nichole. "Think they messed up with us, too?"

Nichole rolled her eyes, clearly unamused, and turned her attention back to Tweek.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask a teacher to change it, Tweek," She offered. "Or why not tell Craig you're not ok with it?"

"That's the thing!" Tweek squeezed his voice out through his clenched throat. "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I'm totally fine with sleeping in the same room as him."

Token crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you freaking out? It's not excitement. I know that much."

Tweek began to fiddle with his buttons. This was embarrassing! Why did the teachers have to do this to him? Did the robotic club teacher hate him that much? Or was it his teacher sponsor?

He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around. There was no one in earshot, but he gestured everyone to move closer anyway.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise, on your l-lives," Tweek held out both his pinkies as added insurance. Token and Nichole each wrapped a pinkie around his and shook on it.

"We won't tell. What is it?" Nichole prompted.

"It's just, well, Craig and I, we haven't slept in the same room since we were little kids!" Tweek almost smiled at the memories of late night fart sounds and bad jokes. "That's the thing though: we were little kids. Craig's getting his full driver's license next year and my parents have hired me for real at the shop. We're adults."

Tweek chewed his lip a moment. "It's different now, and, uh, I-I want it to be different, you know? It's not just another kiddie, platonic sleep over anymore."

Nichole clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, Tweek, that's so sweet and romantic!"

Token snorted a chuckle. "Wait, so you want to sleep sleep with Craig? Like sex? On a school trip? Tweek, you wild animal."

Red painted Tweek's face. He sputtered before finding his words. "No! No! No! No! I don't mean it like that! I mean--"

Nichole gently shoved Token's shoulder. He took a step to the side, more to humor her than succumbing to her strength.

"No, he means he wants to sleep in the same bed as Craig like adults do, like our parents do." She smiled at Tweek. "Right?"

"Y-yes! That's what I mean," He nodded, then pointed to Token. "I'm worried that Craig will take it like Token did if I ask though. I don't want him to think I'm a pervert or a creep."

"He's not going to think that, Tweek." Token shook his head. "If he does, just explain it to him."

"Then he'll think I changed my story when I made him uncomfortable, which will make it even more uncomfortable."

Tweek winced at the thought. He couldn't have 'sex-crazed' add to the list of adjectives he knew Craig thought of him as.

It took him months to remove 'musophobe' from that list when Tweek shrieked after a mouse ran across his toes in Craig's basement. It wasn't even fair to claim he's afraid of mice. It was a big mouse and ran across his bare feet! Anyone would scream.

Nichole screwed her face up in thought. "Then why don't you make it where he asks you?" Her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, do that!"

"How?" Both Tweek and Token asked. The former in a tone of interest and the latter in a tone of dubiousness.

She shrugged. "I don't know, um...drop the temperature? If it's cold in your room, he might ask to snuggle in bed, and if you two just so happen to fall asleep, well, that's just how it goes, right?"

Token shook his head. "Nichole, you have to know how silly--"

"That's perfect!" Tweek grabbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug. "Nichole, you're so smart!"

She patted his back and nodded contently. "Thank you."

Token opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head without a word.

~~~~~

Tweek was excited now that he had a plan of attack. When they got back on the bus, he and Nichole brained stormed more ideas to freeze Craig into Tweek's arms.

First, he would see how low he could get the thermostat to go. Since the plan for dinner was to walk across the street from the hotel to the buffet, the room would have plenty of time to get nice and chilly. If Tweek made sure to get back to the room first, he could turn it back up to normal temperature. He'd shut the vents after that, so no warm air could get in.

Then it would be romantic snuggling the rest of the night!

If all else failed, he still had that gallon bottle from his tea. All he needed to do was refill it when they got there. If it 'accidentally' spilled on one of their beds later that night, the other would undoubtedly be a gentleman and offer to share the remaining bed.

It was a foolproof plan!

A half hour to the hotel, Tweek's phone buzzed.

"We're in the same room at the hotel," Craig wrote. "If the teacher asks, we had a fight and broke up. act bitter about it, otherwise, they might separate us."

Tweek frowned. Clyde told him the teachers forgot they were dating. Why would they remember now? Unless one of the other students ratted them out. He could see that.

Some of the girls in the robotics club gave the kind of vibe like they would throw anyone to the lions at the first chance.

"What did we fight about this time?" Tweek texted back. "Was it 'Michael' again?" He smiled to himself, ending the text with a wink emote.

A moment later, Craig replied, "If you don't let that die, then we really will have a fight." His text ended with three fist emoji. Before Tweek could even open his keyboard, another message came.

This one said, "jk jk. idk. something that doesn't make me look like a dick this time. why don't we fight over stripe? you're being a bad dad and overfeeding him or something."

Tweek didn't like the idea of this fake fight painting him as a bad pet parent, but considering Craig still got flack over their fight in fourth grade, maybe it was only fair.

"ok. I'm letting Token and Nichole know though. Love you!" Tweek tried to look annoyed as he sent a string of kiss faces and hearts. If there was one thing Tweek had become really good at since he and Craig started dating, it was acting.

He huffed, throwing his hand up in the air.

"That bastard!" Tweek cried out just loud enough the other club members around him would hear, but not the teacher.

"How dare he!" Tweek continued, leaning across the aisle to Token. "Look at what Craig said! Me? A bad pet parent! I'm the fucking best parent Stripe has!"

Token raised an eyebrow but took the phone. He rolled his eyes, turning the screen enough for Nichole to read. Nichole chuckled but sent Tweek a small nod. She would play along with this.

"Fuck him! We're through!" Tweek took his phone back. "How do you change your relationship status on Facebook? Under ‘about’ right? I'm not letting him say those things about me."

The other students turned in their seat or scooted closer to the aisle. Gossip hounds, most of them. Usually, Tweek couldn't stand his personal info getting around like this, but the grapevine of whispers would reach up to the teacher and chaperone faster this way.

Craig had already started vague posting about him.

Along with a picture of a fat, plushy guinea pig, Craig posted, "This is what SOME PEOPLE think a guinea pig should look like! Rolly polly and one treat from a heart attack! #badpetparent"

It took all of Tweek's composure not to laugh. Between the two of them, Craig was the one who usually gave Stripe one too many treats.

For the rest of the bus ride, Craig and Tweek made snide comments and jabs about the other on social media. Honestly, he was having fun with it. None of what they said to each other was particularly true, or really that bad, but the rumor mill had already worked its magic.

According to posts shown to him by Nichole and Token, Tweek had broken Craig's heart and curb stomped it by attempting to take full custody of Stripe from him. At least one tweet said they were going to court about it.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the robotics bus was already parked. Even in the dim evening light, the antics and excitement of the other club shown through the windows. A paper airplane launched out one of the rear windows and crashed against Tweek's window.

Tweek squinted to try and make out anyone he knew, but the closest he came was thinking he saw the top of Craig's hat.

"Alright, students," the teacher clapped her hands, stealing his attention "We're all going to head to the lobby. Take your bags. I'm not walking everyone back and forth to the bus."

Tweek shouldered his backpack on and stood. When he passed the teacher on his way off the bus, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tweek, I want you to know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She smiled softly. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet to careless actions."

Tweek stared at her a moment before her words clicked. "Oh! Um, thank you, ma'am." He tried to sound downtrodden.

So their 'break up' had already turned to manslaughter. Great. Crowd control was going to be a pain in the ass after all this was said and done.

The robotics club fell silent when Tweek came into the lobby. Some eyed him with distrust, and others with pity. Clyde avoided looking at him, and Craig fixed him with a faux dirty look before flipping him the bird.

Anyone who didn't know Craig well could tell there was no malice in this gesture, but Tweek pretended he was offended and threw him a middle finger right back.

Craig shoved his hands in his pocket and scowled to the side, all the while holding back a smile. Tweek thought it was simply adorable. He made a note to tell him that and watch Craig get flustered about it later.

"Alright, is everyone off the bus?" One of the teachers shouted, and the crowd of students quieted. "Alright, so, when I call your name, come up and get your room key."

She reached held her tablet to her face as she read. One by one the students walked up. There were a few groans and whines, a couple of cheers, but no one seemed too opposed to their rooming assignments.

Then the teacher called out Craig's name.

"Craig Tucker, Room 203." She held up his key. "You're rooming with...oh, um, T-Tweek Tweak."

A group gasp nearly sucked all the air from the lobby. Tweek squared his shoulders and marched up along with Craig.

Mr. Donovan and the garden club teacher exchanged looks, while the robotics teacher couldn't care less.

She started, "I don't know how they got...um--maybe we should switch them with--"

"I'm fine with it." Craig snapped, snatching a key card off the table. "Unlike some people, I am a responsible adult who is in complete control of his emotions."

"Bullshi--I mean, I am too!" Tweek grabbed the other card from the teacher. "You just stay on your side of the room, you gay jerk."

"Don't call names, Tweek. It's immature," Craig scoffed.

"It's not immature if it's all true," Tweek grumbled. Before the teacher or Mr. Donovan could reply, they both stormed off back into the crowd.

~~~~~

Tweek wasn't sure how they pulled that off, exactly, but none of the adults tried to take their keys away from them or make them switch rooms.

At this point, Tweek narrowed it down to either the adults didn't know how to deal with this situation between two men or didn't want to get dragged into their drama. Either way, Tweek wasn't going to complain.

Still scowling, Tweek unlocked their door. With a sneer in his voice, he held the door and said, "After you, Mr. Mature."

"Thank you," Craig spat back, all fake venom.

Mr. Donovan grabbed the door handle, standing between the two. He forced a nervous smile. "Um, if you boys need anything," Mr. Donovan said. "I'm in the room right next door."

"Don't worry, sir." Craig frowned. "We can handle ourselves. Or, I can anyway."

"Yeah," Tweek took a breath, "don't worry at all."

Mr. Donovan didn't look any more relaxed but nodded anyway.

The moment after Tweek shut the door then threw his bag on the bed, Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

"Everyone hates you now," Craig stated matter-of-factly, "for being a guinea pig murderer." He kissed his forehead.

"We'll have to post a picture together with Stripe when we get home." Tweek chuckled. "Proof of my innocence."

Craig squeezed him once, then took a step back. "I need to brush my teeth. Clyde dared me to eat a Jolly Rancher we found on the floor of the bus."

Tweek winced. "Was it completely worth it?"

Craig shrugged. "I got fifteen dollars and ten minutes picking candy out of my braces since I accidentally crunch down, so half-and-half."

"You're disgusting, Craig Tucker," Tweek teased.

Craig took his hat off and chucked it at his face. "If it hadn't been grape - flavored, you would have done it, too."

Tweek gave Craig that as truth with a slight nod before shoving his hat over his head.

When Craig left for the bathroom, Tweek dove into action. He spun around and darted towards the thermal unit under the window.

Stooping down, he fiddled with the controls. The unit wasn't complicated, so it only took a minute or two to lower the temperature setting from a cozy seventy-five to a chilly fifty.

He bounced to his feet and spun around. Twisting the tassels of Craig's hat, he wandered to the bathroom. Craig leaned over the counter to the mirror, picking at his braces. He ran his tongue over his front teeth before sticking his mouth under the faucet to take a drink.

"Get it all?" Tweek asked.

Craig held up a finger as he swished the water around in his mouth then spit.

"Probably not, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bus floor anymore." He held out his hand. "Gimme back my hat."

Tweek reached up to pull the hat from his head. A smirk played on his lips, and he strode forward and threw it on Craig's head. With a tug, he pulled him down to press a kiss to his lips.

Craig chuckled. "Damn, hope we get over this fight soon."

~~~~~

The buffet was nothing special, just an average all you can eat joint. On their second trip up, Clyde loaded up on more enchiladas than could possibly be healthy, while Craig had taken a more Italian root with a plateful of pasta and pizza.

They sat together in at a table in the back with Token. From their vantage point, they could people watch and mock almost all of the other restaurant goers and had quick access to the dessert bar.

Token took one look at Clyde’s plate and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your dad tell you to eat something healthy?" Token made a point to stab up some zucchini.

"This is plenty healthy," Clyde replied. "The sauce has tomatoes. Cheese is a dairy product. Grain in the tortilla, and chicken is protein. All the food groups are there."

Without fighting Clyde’s logic, he turned towards Craig. "Ok, so how are you and," he jerked his head towards Tweek, “doing?”

A gaggle of girls surrounded Tweek, cooing over him and comforting him, including the ones who took all the sodas earlier that day. Somehow half the girls on the trip got it in their heads the whole 'fight' was Craig's fault and Tweek was an innocent victim in it all.

Tweek himself looked incredibly uncomfortable, picking at his chicken breast. One of the girls reached out to mess with his hair and Craig tensed. Tweek didn't like people touching him for no reason, much less stroking his hair like that.

Luckily, Nichole reached up and grabbed the girl's hand with a frown. Craig made a note to thank her for that later.

He poked at his pasta without spinning the fork. "We're fine," Craig answered.

Token hummed. "Ok. Actually, can I ask you a question since you and Tweek are sharing a room?"

"Shoot." Craig took a drink of his cola.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?" Token asked, a little too bluntly.

Craig choked on his drink. He beat his chest, panting. Clyde burst into laughter, bits of enchilada flying across the table. In response, Token crouched over his food, protecting his plate with his arms.

"Token, what the fuck, man?" Craig gasped. "Shit, dude, fuck! You can't ask stuff like that in public!"

Token shrugged, straightening back up.

Clyde wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So is that a no? You'd just leave Tweek by himself? Guess it's a good thing you two broke up."

Craig took his fork, stabbed one of Token's zucchini slices, and dropped it on top of Clyde's enchiladas. Clyde hurried to remove the offending squash before it contaminated his meal.

Craig pointed his fork at Token. "Ok, why did you ask that?" He lowered his fork and leaned closer. "Did...Did Tweek say he wanted to do that?"

Token chuckled. "What? No. I was just wondering. You two are sharing a room, after all."

Craig reached up and tugged at his hat. He was glad it covered his ears. They were burning with embarrassment. This was not public restaurant talk. This was beanbag chair, playing video games in someone's room talk.

At least if they were in someone's room, Craig could chuck a pillow at Token and loudly tell him to fuck off.

"It's none of your business what Tweek and I do--if we were still together." Craig spun his fork in his pasta. "Which we're not because he's a huge dick and a bad parent to Stripe."

Token opened his mouth, only to have Clyde interrupt him before he started.

"Ok, ok, ok, screw Craig for a minute here. We both know the answer is 'yes', no matter what he says." Clyde reached across to grab Token's hand. "The real question is if you would say yes if I asked you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Token snorted a laugh. "Of course, Clyde. What are best bros for?"

Clyde raised his fist up to pump it down, only to slam his elbow down on the rim of his plate. The enchiladas flew off the plate.

Red sauce, tortilla, and ground beef splattered against Craig's shirt. Out of instinct, Craig moved back, only to knock his drink forward so it splashed down onto his pants.

"Clyde!" Craig roared, holding his shirt from his body.

"Sorry!" Clyde grabbed a napkin and moved forward to wipe some of the beef off, but Craig slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Craig sulked over to the table with the teachers and chaperones. As he did, he passed the table with Tweek and all the girls. Some of the girls glared at him and some snickered. Tweek, on the other hand, looked shocked and worried.

"Hey, can I head back?" Craig interrupted whatever the teachers were saying. The adults looked up.

"What happened?" The robotics teacher asked.

"Dropped a plate," Craig muttered.

Even though it was all Clyde's fault, he didn't want to get him in trouble for screwing around. Craig would find some other way to have his revenge. For now, he'd let Clyde sweat about when his retribution would come.

Mr. Donovan scooted his chair back. "Of course, Craig. I'll walk you back over and--"

"Mr. Donovan?"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see Tweek walking up.

"Are you heading back? Can I come?" Tweek tugged at his sleeves, looking to the side. "I, uh, I forgot to take my medication this morning, and my anxiety finally caught up with me in such a crowded place."

As added emphasis, he wrapped his arms around himself and twitched.

Craig nearly reached out but stopped himself. For one, they were still 'fighting' and for two, He was pretty sure that was all a lie.

Tweek never forgot to take his medication. He had no less than three alarms to remind himself. It would not surprise Craig at all if Tweek was just using this as an excuse to get away from all the people fawning over him.

Craig caught Tweek's eye for just a second, then muttered, loud enough to be heard by the teachers, "He probably doesn't trust me not to mess with his stuff."

Tweek pretended to grit his teeth. "Please. I'm finished eating."

The adults talked for a moment before Mr. Donovan nodded. After getting a to-go box for Craig and Mr. Donovan's food, the three made their way back to the hotel.

~~~~~~

Craig tossed his shirt into the sink and turned on the hot water. He could try to scrub the sauce off with the complimentary soap but doubted it would do much. Though he liked the shirt well enough, it wasn't a favorite. So if he failed, there wouldn't be that big of a loss.

"Here."

Craig turned to see Tweek in the doorway, holding something out.

"What is it?" Craig stepped over and took it from his hand. He turned the pen-shaped object over in his palm. It was one of those Tide To-Go Pens.

A snorted laugh escaped him. He wasn't surprised at all. Tweek was the only boy Craig knew who would bring something like this with him on a school trip.

He wondered if Tweek brought a sweater with him, too. The hotel room was polar cold. Craig could probably suffer with it, but he didn’t like the idea of Tweek freezing overnight.

Hopefully he could just crank up the thermostat to remendy the situation.

"Thanks, dude," Craig said as he turned to work on the shirt. Tweek leaned against the door frame, watching with interest as Craig worked.

After a while, Craig removed as much of the stain as he could. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable. As long as his mother never saw it, it was all good. No harm, no foul.

Holding the shirt triumphantly up, he spun around.

"Ta-da!"

Tweek snickered but indulged him with a small round of applause. Craig bobbed his head proudly in a faux bow before tossing the shirt over the towel rack to dry.

"I think I'll take a quick shower. I can still feel the soda sticking to me through my PJs," Craig announced. With a smirk, he added coyly, "Don't go messing with my stuff, got it, Mr. Tweak?"

Tweek's shoulders shook. "I'm way too mature to be that petty, Mr. Tucker."

The two burst into giggles. Tweek started to leave, but Craig followed behind him. He walked past their beds towards the window unit. When he got out of the shower, he’d rather not have all the water freeze to his body.

"Thought so," Craig muttered after crouching down. "Whoever had our room before us left this on fifty." He readjusted the temperature back up to a cozy seventy-five.  

“Oh, that’s why it’s so cold?” Tweek rubbed his arm. “I hadn’t even thought to check it.”

“Yeah, well, at least we won’t turn into popsicles overnight.”  

Tweek grinned at him. There was something a little off about it, but Craig didn’t comment. With how his luck was going this evening, Tweek probably figured Craig thought he was stupid for not noticing.

Craig put his hand on Tweek’s arm, over his knuckles. He explained, “It must have been programmed to kick on while we were out. I didn’t notice until we got back how cold it was.”

Tweek looked down at Craig’s hand, then up at him. He nodded then smiled. The off feeling about this smile dissolved instantly.

With a squeeze of his hand, Craig then left Tweek to take his shower.

Craig’s chest well with pride at the accomplishment as he shut the door. How many people could pacify Tweek’s worries with a few correctly-chosen and reassuring words?

Dang, did Craig like Tweek’s smile. Really, he just liked Tweek over all. Their relationship might have started on less than stellar terms, but by now, Craig had a hard time imagining his life without Tweek in it. It was asilly thought, Craig knew, but maybe they'd get married one day.

Craig stiffened as Token's question rang in his head again.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?"

He tried to force the idea out of his thoughts but failed miserably. That was a topic he hadn't sunk too much thought into. Sex seemed like a distant concept, more of a late-night thought experiment than a something that would actually happen.

After all, it took them nearly a year and a half of dating to share the most chaste kiss ever, and Tweek still puked from nerves on Craig's shoes a second later. Sex was way too big of a leap! Even if Tweek could get over his nerves this time, Craig knew he couldn't do it.

When they were older, maybe, but...

Craig groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did Token even ask that? Tweek had to have made him do it, right? A question like that was way too out of the blue for Token to ask it any other time!

He ran his hands through his hair before slapping them down on the sink.

If Tweek wanted to know if Craig was interested in sleeping with him, it would be best to come out in the open and say he wasn't! His boyfriend might be disappointed, but Tweek would have to just respect his decision.

Spinning on his heels, Craig marched out the door. He needed to do this before his confidence wore off.

"Tweek, we need--the fuck?"

Tweek stared at him, eyes like a deer in the headlights. In his hand, he had his jug of water held over Craig's bed. A thin trickle poured onto the covers.

"Don't be mad!" Tweek cried, pulling the jug to his chest. "I can explain, I promise!"

"Then explain. We're not really fighting! You're taking your acting too far!" Craig rushed over to tear the jug from his hands. His bed didn't look too wet. He could probably just pull the sheets off or sleep in the recliner in the corner.

"No, that's not--uh, shit, Craig--!" Tweek wrung his hands together. "Don't be mad! Don't be mad! I, I just..." His shoulders shook and his head dropped.

Craig adjusted the jug to one hand, reaching out with the other, when Tweek's head shot up and he bursted out, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight!?"

So Tweek did get Token to ask Craig! He knew it!

Craig stumbled back. His face was already feeling hot. All of the confidence Craig had seconds ago vanished into thin air when faced with the actual question.

"Tweek, we c-ca-can't!" Craig sputtered. "For one, you, we, uh, need things for that and for two I’m not comfortable with it right now! I don’t want to sleep--"

"Not like that!" Tweek's face was just as red as Craig's, if not more so. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head so fast that Craig worried he might break his neck.

"I don't mean it like se—urk—like making l-love," Tweek forced out. "I mean like married people. Normal sleeping, but in the same bed. Same way parents do."

Craig looked down at the jug. Tweek followed his eyes. He snatched it back, his face somehow burning even more.

"I...I wanted to force you to ask to share a bed with me," Tweek admitted. "I was going to chill you into it, but you turned the heat back up."

Craig tried to keep a straight face as Tweek explain but failed almost instantly. His shoulders scrunched and his chin fell to his chest. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back his laughter.

He peeked up at Tweek. Tweek clenched his hand around the jug handle, eyes wide and confused.

"Dude, no offense, did you get this idea from a bad fanfiction?" He snorted into his hand. "Freezing me into your bed? Really? That was the best idea you could come up with before jumping straight to dumping water on my mattress?"

Tweek looked down at the jug, then back up at Craig, before a smile spread across his face. He chuckled, taking a step back to set the jug on the bedside table.

"Shit, now that you say it like that, it's a horrible idea, isn't it?" He shook his head. "At least Nichole's heart was in the right place."

"It was her idea? That explains...never mind." Craig plopped back onto the bed. He patted the seat next to him. Tweek slipped down beside him. Craig eyed the space between them then scooted closer until their sides touch.

"Sooooo, Tweek," Craig slipped his hand around behind Tweek and lean against him, "Do you wanna sleep together? Tonight? Like adults?" He got face to face with Tweek and winked.

Tweek stiffened up a heartbeat, then relaxed. Before Craig could comprehend what Tweek was doing, Tweek pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

A fond, soft feeling welled up in Craig's chest. The feeling spread through his body. He clung to it as Tweek wrapped him in a warm hug. They wouldn't even need blankets if he kept this feeling around.

“Craig, wanna look at the fallout of our ‘break up’ on Twitter?” Tweek offered after a moment. “Some of the girls at the table with me were saying some pretty out there things. Apparently, someone wants to call the FBI out on you.”

Craig glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. He really should get back and take his shower, but this would only take a few minutes. They’d be done before too long.

Of course, ‘before too long’ stretched from a couple minutes to an hour of scrolling through their friends and followers’ feeds on Twitter and Facebook. Nothing could hold back their snickers and snorts as they each took turns reading the more and more outrageous ideas the rumor mill churned out.

As Craig sat in the recliner chair and Tweek laid on his bed, a knocking came from the door.

"Boys? Boys?" Mr. Donovan called through the door.

Craig scrambled out of the recliner, nearly tripping over his legs. He darted over and pushed Tweek down against the bed.

Craig hissed, "Pretend to be asleep, ok? I have a plan."

"Um, why--I mean ok?" Tweek clambered to pull the covers over his body as Craig hurried towards the door. As he passed the bathroom door, a wall of steam hit his face.

Swearing to himself, Craig darted inside and twisted the shower off. Taking a breath and smoothing out his hair, Craig unlocked the door and peeked out.

"Yes?"

"It'll be time to turn off the lights in about fifteen minutes. I'm going around giving everyone their warning." Mr. Donovan told him. He furrowed his brow, looking over Craig into the room. "Where is Tweek? Are you two alright?"

Craig's face fell into a cringe.

"Ugh, yeah, I guess. He went to sleep, like, right, when we got back. I'm going to bed after I take a shower."

"'After'? I heard the shower start a while ago." Mr. Donovan frowned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I..." Craig wracked his brain a moment then quickly said, "I went in to wash my shirt, and when I left to go get my other shirt, Tweek slipped in and took a shower himself."

"You said he went to bed right after you two got back," Mr. Donovan pointed out.

Shit! Craig felt a sweat start across his skin.

From inside the room came the sound of a bed creaking. Tweek came up from behind Craig, a blanket covering his clothes.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" Tweek asked around a yawn. He sent a glare to Craig. "Was he tattling on me for taking a five minutes shower while he was trying to wash his stupid shirt? I thought he was done. I just woke back up, and showers help calm me down! He was the one who chased me out before I could turn the water off. The wasted water bill is all on him!"

Craig rolled his eyes, about to snap something back at Tweek, when Mr. Donovan interrupted.

"No, Tweek, no one is in trouble. You both have fifteen minutes before lights out, alright?"

Craig sighed internally. Thank God, Mr. Donovan seemed to have bought Tweek's lie.

"Yessir," Craig bobbed his head.

"I already was out before someone went to complain," Tweek muttered, turning on his heels and marching back towards his bed.

Mr. Donovan shook his head. "Fifteen minutes, boys." And with that, he left.

Craig shut and locked the door before slumping down, letting out his internal sigh. That was close, too close. Tweek's acting and quick thinking saved them once again.

~~~~

In the fifteen minutes before lights out, Tweek changed out of his clothes into his PJs and Craig took a quick shower to remove as much of the remaining red sauce and soda as he could. They hit the lights moments before one of the teachers made his rounds to tell everyone to go to bed.

Tweek pulled the covers up to his chin. His eyes flicked towards the digital clock on the bed stand. The plan was simple. After another fifteen minutes, he would sneak over to Craig's bed.

His stomach twisted. They were really going to do this, weren't they? Sleep in the same bed, not as platonic friends or as children, but as romantic adults.

What if he messed up? What if he rolled over and accidentally pushed Craig off the bed? What if Craig couldn't get comfortable with Tweek next to him and wasn't able to sleep?

This was just like their first kiss all over again!

No, he needed to calm down. Go to his calm mind space and breathe. It was just sleeping. It's not possible to mess up sleeping. This wasn't like the kiss where a thousand things could go wrong. He and Craig were going to snuggle up and sleep — and Tweek was not going to puke.

This was all just nervous excitement. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a while now since he came to the conclusion that they weren't kids anymore.

This was the most adult part of a relationship they could do. This was what married people did. He and Craig skipped sex and went straight to something more deeply romantic!

As Tweek wondered how Craig thought about marriage, the fifteenth minute ticked by. The moment the digit on the clock changed, Craig shuffled around in his bed.

"Tweek, it's time," Craig whispered.

Tweek nodded, though he knew Craig couldn't see it, and began to crawl out from the covers. He padded the two steps between their beds before leaning down to grope the covers.

When he finally found the end of the blanket, he lifted it and slid under.

"Comfy?" Craig asked.

"Um, y-yeah!" Tweek rested his head against the pillow. "So, this is it, huh? Sleeping in the same bed, like adults."

"Not really," Craig replied.

"Huh? What are we doing wrong? We really like each other, and we're sleeping, together, in the same bed. That's exactly like adults do." Tweek chewed his lip. What was he forgetting?

Craig scooted closer to Tweek then rolled around so his back was towards him. Finally, he pressed his back against Tweek's front.

"Now, put your arms around me. This is how adults sleep." Craig muttered.

Tweek did as he was told and put an arm over Craig's side.

"What do I do with my other arm?" Tweek asked. "Sleep on it, or do I put it around your shoulders, or, um..." He tried to move his arm up to maneuver it under the pillow, only to clunk Craig in the head with his elbow.

As Tweek stammered apologies, Craig grunted in pain.  Craig shifted away to the other side of the bed.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest. Great! They weren't even asleep yet and he'd messed it up!

The bed groaned as Craig reached off the side for his phone. He clicked it on, nearly blinding them both, before setting it between them.

"Maybe that's a little too advanced for the first time," Craig stated flatly. "You want to just, like, sleep face-to-face?"

Tweek wished Craig's phone would turn off so his boyfriend couldn't see the embarrassment on his face as he nodded. Craig didn't look annoyed about taking a hit to the head. If anything, he looked just as apprehensive as Tweek felt. That settled some of Tweek’s nerves, at least.

Tweek smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Craig." Tweek murmured against his skin.

"Um, yeah, night." Craig smiled but refused to meet Tweek's eyes as he clicked off the phone. With how brightly both their cheeks were burning, it was a wonder that the room went back to being just as dark as before.

They lapsed into silence. Nothing but the humming of the thermal unit and their breathing filled the room.

So, this was it. This was what sleeping with his boyfriend was like. He'd laid down next to Craig before, but this was different. They weren't just watching a movie or trying to finish homework. This was deep and romantic and very mature!

Tweek focused on Craig's breathing as it began to slow. No doubt Craig would be asleep soon. Would it be alright if Tweek reached out and pulled Craig to his chest while he slept? Was that allowed, or would it be weird? Maybe he could just set his hand over Craig's side again or maybe--

A pair of cold feet pressed against his ankles, and Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig's toes pinched Tweek's legs, tugging unpleasantly at his leg hair, until his feet moved until they were under Tweek.

Craig muttered contently, "Warm..."

Tweek swallowed down a sharp, "No, cold actually!" and instead just let it slide. Part of being in a mature, adult relationship was making compromises, after all.

~~~~~~

Craig's cheerful alarm woke them early the next morning. Sometime during the night, they had become a tangled mess of teenage limbs, so it took Craig a bit to snake his arm out from around Tweek.

He turned off the alarm as Tweek yawned. Before he could stop him, Tweek snuggled closer, burying his nose against Craig's chest.

"We need to get up," Craig told him.

"Nooooo," Tweek whined back. "I just got comfortable."

"You weren't comfortable the rest of the night?" Craig teased. Tweek wouldn't have fallen asleep if he didn't feel safe and comfortable. That's just how Tweek was. They both knew it.

Though, Craig was inclined to agree. Last night was one of the better nights of sleep he's had in a while. Tweek was practically a human furnace, not to mention softer than the pillows themselves. When Craig had to pee halfway through the night, he'd ran to the bathroom and back so he wouldn't miss a second of Tweek's deep, comforting breathing.

Tweek turned his head up to fix Craig with a mildly annoyed expression. "Only when you weren't trying to freeze me with your feet. I'm getting you fuzzy socks for next time, man."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There's going to be a 'next time'?"

Tweek nodded. "Well, yeah. If you want there to be."

With a laugh, Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek, pulling him close. Of course, there would have to be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that...