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deejadabbles · 4 years ago

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A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Five: Hello, My Old Heart

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// Five /// (Six coming soon) ///

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

You could visibly see the poor young man swallowing hard as he settled in the seat across from you and the rest of your bandmates. Try as you might to make the setting casual (cushy chairs instead of a desk, offers of soda and chips, greeting him with an ‘what’s up, my dude?’, etc.) Atem still seemed rather nervous. Not that you blamed him, you distinctly remember Honda making a joke about “oh yeah, ask the dude to come to our secluded studio by himself to meet five strangers, that’s not creepy or anything” when Yugi told you guys how he had invited the man to meet with the rest of you.

“So, Yugi said that you write songs as a hobby?” Anzu began, giving him the warmest smile she could, an effort to ease Atem’s mood.

He nodded, then started unclasping the latch on his leather messenger bag, “That’s right, I’ll admit, I don’t have too many that are finished, but that’s mostly due to boredom and moving on to a new idea, not lack of inspiration.” He then pulled out some papers divided by paperclips. “Here are the songs I think best represent my usual work, the work that’s easiest for me to write as well as what I would prefer to put out there.”

Honda grabbed the small stack and passed out songs to each of you. A bit of an awkward silence fell as you all started reading the various lyrics, but not even that could tarnish how impressed you were with the ones you were reading. Poetic, but not too over the top or pretentious, nice. You glanced up at the others, nodding your head with an impressed smile before switching papers with Yugi to look over another example (you also didn’t miss the way Yugi beamed at you). Now this song struck you, after only reading the first verse you could already hear the beginnings of a beat and chords you could put with the lyrics.

“Yugi also said you have a killer voice,” you said, shifting your eyes from the page to peer up at him.

He gave a cute little cough, “Uh, yes, I suppose I’m not a bad singer.”

You had to actively keep your mind from gushing over how sweet he was. The dude looked like a typical adonis hottie, but his shy outer demeanor just added an extra layer to him. He was wearing something more stylish than the few tabloid pics you’d seen: a long-sleeved black shirt with a silky maroon and gold vest, accessorized with a few rings, bangles, necklaces, and a pair of gold dangling earrings.

You shook the wandering thoughts on his attractiveness away; this was for business, not pleasure. “I was just wondering if you’d mind singing one of the songs for us, that way we can get a feel for the melody you had in mind.”

Again, Atem seemed to swallow something in this throat as a hand reached up to briefly play with one of the flat triangles dripping from his ears. “I suppose I could do that, but, do you mind if I play my violin with it? I’ll find it easier to sing with some music.”

“Of course,” you waved an eager hand, egging him on before handing him back the music sheet in your hand.

His eyes scanned the pages, reminding himself of what song it was before nodding his head and reaching down to the instrument case beside the armchair. Jonouchi had made a comment about Atem carrying his violin everywhere, trying to set a joking mood, but it just caused a flushed Atem to mumble about how he had just picked it up from getting its weekly tuning.

Once Atem was standing, violin in hand, he took a deep breath to collect himself. Then, after two slow heartbeats, he began to play.

The first note was a sorrowful one, long, like a quiet, mournful hum, his slender fingers pulsing to create a wave effect on the sound. Then he was singing. His tone came out like a deep, almost breathy moan, letting the lyrics flow like a story at first- before his tone rose and belted out the chorus.

Atem was captivating, pulling you in with every line, every inflection, making you want to hold your breath lest the sound of it distract from the song. He kept his eyes closed, lost in the music his hands and mouth crafted, and the longer the song went on the more he seemed to relax, to lean into his own notes.

You blinked suddenly, realizing that your mouth had been hanging open just in time to close it before Atem ended his performance on another soaring note and breathy lyric. He stayed like that for a moment, catching his breath, basking in the lingering sound of his song.

Finally, his eyes blinked open and shifted to gauge everyone’s reaction. You weren’t the only one left in awe.

“Holy shit,” Honda breathed.

Yugi’s beaming smile was at maximum sunshine as he leaned into you and whispered, “That’s the song I heard him sing at the theatre, isn’t it beautiful?!”

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something but Anzu beat you to it.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, eager, as she jumped up and walked to her keyboard.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you asked, also bouncing to your feet and joining her.

Anzu smiled back at you, “Keeping that longer intro and adding keys to it?”

“Yes!” you turned to Jonouchi- who was still staring at Atem like he didn’t quite believe the man was standing there. “Jou, add some drums? Something steady and subtle at first, drawing everyone in before the lyrics start and-”

“-and picking up when the chorus kicks in?” he finished, snapping to attention in an instant, “You got it!”

With that Jonouchi vaulted off the back of the couch, plopping onto the stool at his drum set. Atem was still standing there, now looking a bit bewildered and amused as he watched everyone get to work, perhaps some pride shining in his eyes that his music had inspired it.

“Atem?” you asked, tone gentle and drawing his attention back to you, “Can you play that again?” you repeated Anzu’s question, seeing as how she was fully engrossed in her keys now.

Again, the man seemed hesitant, “Shouldn’t you be taking over, you’re the lead singer after all.”

“Dude, we have to keep that violin track,” you insisted, finding your voice breathy as you pointed at Atem, “It’s perfect for the song, it’s deep and beautiful and-” speechless, you gave an exaggerated chef’s kiss to emphasize just how much you meant what you were touting.

The expression earned you a smile from the violinist, a hint of bashfulness mixing with the fresh and rising pride. “Alright, if you think it will improve the song.” With that, Atem lifted his violin, took another deep breath, and started the song again.

***

It was strange how no hands had officially shaken, no one even told Atem he was hired, but that session was immediately followed up by the band asking when his next free day was and asking him to come back for another practice session. Atem had never intended on actually playing with the band, but, when they acted so enthralled with his playing, he could hardly say no.

The next time they got together (almost a week after their first meeting) Atem found himself just as nervous as when he first met them. Parking outside their studio, he found his chest heating up with some anxiety. Atem never was good around people, after all.

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

He rubbed his hands against the steering wheel, letting out a long breath and holding it a moment, before making himself grab his violin case and climb out of the car. His feet crunching on the gravel driveway grounded him a bit and he had managed to calm down slightly before knocking on the studio door.

I've been so worried, you've been so still

Barely beating at all

He heard the sound of laughter coming closer on the other side of the door and a moment later it opened, revealing you in the doorway and more laughter echoing yours in the next room.

“Atem, there you are! Come on in,” you stepped aside and waved an inviting arm.

Atem felt the heat in his chest climb up his neck, “Sorry, am I late?”

“Huh?” You then waved your hand again as you shut the door behind him, “Oh no don’t worry, we just got here early, that’s all.”

He heard someone else call his name before he even got to the room where everyone was sitting, and by the time he did enter, the whole band was waving and greeting him. He cleared his throat before nodding back to everyone and saying a weak ‘hello’ before you spoke again.

“Come on, sit down and chill for a bit before we get started,” you waved at a beat-up arm chair even as you perched on its armrest.

Atem realized with a quick look around that there was nowhere better for you to sit and you were likely offering him your own seat. “Oh, that’s alright, I don’t want to steal your seat-”

Before his offer to sit on the floor was out, you shook your head, “Dude, we can’t have our muse sitting in a creaky fold-up chair, at least sit on the other arm so I don’t topple it!” You laughed again as Honda made some comment about how a topple would probably bust the thing in half.

His cheeks were hot now, but he took the offer with grace (or at least, as much grace as he could muster) and perched himself on the other armrest, setting his violin on the actual seat. Atem also remembered how last time, he had been offered the armchair while Anzu took the creaky fold-up chair. Everyone here really seemed to care about making him comfortable.

Hello, my old heart

It's been so long

Since I've given you away

When was the last time he met anyone who had greeted him with such...openness? Such compassion. And a whole group of someones at that...

He cleared his throat again, trying to draw himself out of his wandering thoughts. “So, are we just going to work out more of the music today?”

And every day, I add another stone

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe

Everyone seemed to respect his want to get down to business, perhaps thinking that he had other engagements, and only chit-chatted for a handful of minutes, before getting down to their rehearsal. It went well, just as the previous session had, and Atem found himself in awe of how well the creative process of making notes together flowed. Just like that first day, everyone seemed to work off of each other so well, bounding ideas left and right, almost always being on the same page. Even when they weren’t, there were just a few goodhearted jabs and sighs before working everything out.

Again Atem found himself shaking his thoughts away. He really should stop, it wasn’t wise to get attached to this process, these sessions, these people. After all, he was just their ghostwriter, nothing more.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while

He found himself smiling again despite himself, when you started throwing popcorn kernels at Jonouchi; retribution for a comment about how you needed to change the chords up in the third chorus.

“I’m not changing it,” you said with your tongue sticking out, all while Jou looked affronted at your kernel bombing. “It’s a steady beat, that’s the whole point! Right, Atem?”

At the sound of his name, Atem’s eyes went wide, “Uh- What?”

“Eh, don’t drag him to your side!” Jonouchi pouted, tossing some popcorn from his lap back in your direction.

“I’m not dragging, I’m asking his opinion, there’s a difference,” you said matter of factly, then turned back to Atem, who was sweating a bit now, “What do you think, Atem? Are the same chords during the third chorus too boring? Or does it fit the subtle, powerful nature of the song?”

“You’re leading his answer!” Jonouchi countered, again looking appalled, then squawking as you tossed more popcorn at him.

Atem was a bit distracted by the way Honda kept laughing as Jou picked kernels out of his shirt, but eventually he managed to swallow thickly and answer your question. “I actually like the way you have it now, if I’m being honest.”

You beamed at him, stuck your tongue out at Jonouchi in victory, then held the popcorn bowl out to Atem. “Thank you, my muse! Here, have some brain food.”

His face was heating up again at nickname- or, dare he say, endearment? However, even as he blushed, and took a handful of popcorn, he couldn’t keep that smile from making yet another appearance.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

When everyone called the day's session to an end, Atem tried not to feel...disappointed. Stop that , he told himself again, this was not something to get attached to. As everyone packed their notes away, Honda started asking about dinner.

“Heeey if I give you a ride to work, think you can get me a discount on nachos again?” he asked, turning to you with an eyebrow wiggle.

You scoffed, “Dude, the boss was barely okay with that one time I did it, I can’t convince her again. But I can just buy your nachos if you really want.”

“Where do you work?” Atem found himself asking, far too late to stop himself from getting involved.

“Oh- ever heard of The Mark? It’s a bar downtown.”

Atem shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. Admittedly, the only bar he had been in since college was the high-end one in his apartment building.

You didn’t seem to take notice of his embarrassment though and just shrugged, “It’s only popular to a certain crowd. Anyway,” you continued, turning back to Honda, “give me a ride and I’ll buy you nachos.”

“Okay, all this talk of nachos has me hungry,” Jonouchi groaned, “Let’s go with em, Yug.”

Anzu perked up at that, nodding to you as she said, “You know, I’ve really been craving your specialty daiquiris. Jou, got room in your truck for me?”

“Sure,” the drummer shrugged as everyone started milling towards the door.

Yugi was smiling brightly as he held the door open for everyone, “Guess it’s a band outing now! Atem, you want to join? You can follow us to the bar, it isn’t far.”

As his feet were once again crunching on the gravel drive, Atem had to stop. He looked back to the group, ready to see at least one of them giving an uneasy expression at the invitation, if not an outright protest.

Instead, he saw Anzu nodding her head eagerly while Honda locked up the studio. Neither you nor Jonouchi looked wary of the suggestion and instead just looked to him for an answer.

You must have thought he needed further prompting, because you said, “Hey, our ‘girls night’ plate of nachos is more than big enough for all of you.”

Atem had to swallow another something in his throat. All of you were already inviting him out for drinks?

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

“I- sorry, I have to get up early in the morning. Thank you, though.” Atem could only cast his eyes to the ground during the half-lie.

How is it being locked away?

He saw something flicker in Yugi’s eyes, but he was quick to hide it with a smile. “Okay, maybe next time.”

Your smile matched Yugi’s as everyone headed to Jou’s truck and Honda’s bike, “Have a good night, Atem.”

Don't you worry, in there you're safe

“See you next week,” Anzu waved.

All he could manage was a nod as he turned towards his own car.

And it's true, you'll never beat

But you'll never break

It only took one more session to get the rest of the music figured out, and then it was time to record. Atem was interested in the process, how the five of you set up the sound equipment, what programs you used, he even asked you how you had installed padding to improve the sound quality.

The video part of the recording would be left for later, right now it was just the song to worry about- though you did make a point to tell Atem that you wanted to discuss setting ideas for the video soon. Atem felt his heart swell a bit at that. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he was glad that you wanted to involve him in every step of the song. This song in particular, this first one that had so enthralled Yugi first, was likely one of the more personal ones Atem had written.

Your voice rose with the chorus, fingers dancing gracefully against the bridge of the guitar, and Atem found himself admiring how well suited your voice was to his lyrics. A perfect fit. Though you likely had no way of knowing the background behind this song or why Atem had written it, you belted the lyrics with passion and depth, cared for every bar as if you were singing from the depths of your heart.

Maybe you were. Music spoke to more than just those who wrote it, perhaps not in the same ways, but that hardly mattered.

He heard the way the ending lyric stole your breath, and his violin hummed its final note with you in a harmony Atem had admired a dozen times during these rehearsals. When the last note ended, everyone waited a moment, seeming to hold their breaths, before daring to move. When everyone did, Jonouchi was already bounding over to the computer hooked up to the recording mics. With a few clicks and a quick look over something on the screen, the blonde gave a clap of his hands.

“We got it! That should be all we need for a high quality recording.”

Everyone cheered or hooted at that, and Yugi made a comment about finally having something new to give their fans. Atem was smiling with the rest of them, but he was failing to ignore the way his chest ached just a bit. The song was done, and, unless they asked him to join them on stage, Atem supposed this was the last time he would play with the band.

Writing songs for them was all nice in of itself, but, despite all his personal warnings not to, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown a bit attached to these evenings and nights with the band.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

A sudden call of his name had Atem jolting back to the present, and he saw you standing beside him, a hint of concern creasing your brow. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-” he cleared his throat, “-yes, I’m alright,” he lied, just as he had lied to deny himself the after-work drinks weeks ago. “I was just thinking, we got so caught up in recording this song, that none of you got the chance to discuss if any others were to your liking.”

“What, any of your other songs?” Honda asked, and when Atem nodded, he literally waved the comment off, “Dude, I’m pretty sure we liked all the examples you gave us, right guys?”

“Definitely!” Yugi didn’t miss the chance to boost Atem’s ego (or rather, soothe any worries). “We actually looked over your other songs the other day, and all of us agree we want to record all of them. I told you you were a perfect fit for us!”

The words, as well as the wink Yugi gave, did make Atem smile, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the root of his woe. “I’m glad they fit with the band so well. If you want to know the melodies or themes I had in mind for any of the other songs as well, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

That seemed to give everyone pause.

Nothing lasts forever

Atem watched as they began giving each other looks, very pointed looks, in turns, and he couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation in his chest. They seemed to silently agree on something a moment later, because Anzu spoke up as her eyes turned back to Atem.

“Actually, we were talking about that a lot too…”

Some things aren't meant to be

Atem swallowed hard, heart starting to pound in his ears. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough, perhaps they thought him too pretentious, or maybe he had overstepped the boundaries of his role here, maybe he and his violin didn’t-

“How would you feel about joining the band for the whole album?”

But you'll never find the answers

Until you set your old heart free

Again, your voice put a break on Atem’s reeling thoughts, and he had to blink to collect himself again. “I- you mean, you want me to play for the other songs as well?”

More looks were exchanged, quick ones this time, before Yugi chimed in next. “We talked it over a lot the past week and we all agree that you gel with us pretty well! And not only that, but your violin really adds a lot to our music, we’d really love for you to record more songs with us, not just write them.”

Until you set your old heart free

Now Atem’s heart was pounding in his ears for a whole other reason. He almost wanted to smack himself when he felt the widest, most giddy grin he ever remembered smiling spread across his face.

“I would like that very much,” he said, cheeks going a bit warm when everyone was returning his smile.

Hello, my old heart

“So what are we waitin’ for?” Jonouchi jumped in, all enthusiasm and eagerness, “What song are we doing next?”

That sparked conversation, and everyone started chiming in with their votes almost immediately, Yugi and Anzu even digging out Atem’s sheet music for references. Atem could only take the scene in with a smile that was widening the more he watched them bicker good-heartedly.

And he was glad he had gotten attached to this process, these sessions, to these people.

I wanna share it with you

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh band au #series: a thousand songs #atem #yami yugi

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buckstaposition · 4 years ago

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I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

tags&warnings: spoilers for S3 eps1+2 mainly, some for later episodes also; mention of drug use; brief description of a panic attack; sleazy David Rodríguez is sleazy; somewhat liberal use of the f-word and also other swearing; reference to past canon character deaths; this blog is CIA station chief Bill Stechner-phobic to the max; most non-graphic, vaguest possible reference to sex (to when Javi goes home with that lady in episode 1); oblivious mutual pining; idiots with zero emotional self-awareness; domesticity

word count: 15.435 (I’m sorry, here are some snacks 🍌🥨🧁🥤)

summary: Diana goes into the lions’ den. Javier is not having a good time. No one gets enough sleep.

tag list & author’s notes have been moved to the bottom. let me just say sorry this took me so long and I hope you’re all well and healthy and happy holidays and may the new year be better for all of us

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals • Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

Franklin Jurado, Diana thinks, is a bit of an ass. It's not even that he happily, willingly, goes around laundering narcos' blood money, or that he gets rich off that himself. In this moment, it's mostly the way he dismissively rolls his eyes and can barely keep the contempt out of his voice when arguing with her about Maltese vs Caymanian tax loopholes. Like she's an idiot for actually reading the laws, spotty as they are.

On top of everything, it's keeping her in her office well past the time she was meaning to start getting changed and dolled up for the grand party that night, and she feels a pressure headache of annoyance building behind her temples to boot.

She's this close to bludgeoning the man with her stapler when an insistent knock sounds at the door, followed by a blonde head poking in. The blonde lady starts speaking in rapid English, too abrupt for Diana's brain to keep up with what is being said, but she instinctively recognized the tone of a husband being reamed out with righteous indignation and if nothing else, it gives her a certain kind of vindication.

"Hi, I'm Christina Jurado. Just Christina is fine. Pleasure to meet you!" The other woman now stepped fully into her office, holding out her hand and smiling just a tad too brightly.

"Diana...Galindo." Why she'd chosen to be known here under her married name is anyone's guess. Perhaps it was mostly a matter of having grown used to it. Perhaps it allowed her to pretend that this wasn't quite her, just an act to be put on for a greater purpose. That helping drug cartel bosses hide their blood money from the tax man and signing off on their henchmen's paychecks was something that Diana Teresa Artemisia Rivas Rincón would not be caught dead doing, no matter the circumstances. "Pleased to meet you."

"Franklin, we'll be late!" the other woman throws over her shoulder. Rather pointedly, too.

"We're not done discussing-"

"I don't care, Franklin!" There's a moment of very animated eye contact, the kind of wordless back-and-forth that she'd dreamt of developing with Juan Mateo but that they never quite managed. Just another little detail that ultimately spelled the end of their marriage. "Actually, why don't your ride with us?"

"I, um-" Diana instinctively reached to adjust the wire she'd been wearing for most of the day (to get used to the feeling and not inadvertently betray herself later), only catching herself in the last moment and fidgeting with the collar on her blouse instead. "I- Felipe was supposed to drive me. I need to get ready still, too."

"Eh, he can tag along. What are you wearing? Do you have your dress here?" She did. There was no arguing with Christina, but no malice in her overbearing imperiousness either. Nonetheless, Diana tried to argue, if only for politeness' sake. How she wouldn't want to impose. That it wasn't a problem, since Miguel Rodríguez had very kindly arranged for her transportation in the form of the afore-mentioned Felipe. Mrs Jurado waved it all off. And perhaps the obvious annoyance in Franklin Jurado's eyes gave her a little push. Say what one might about the Rodríguez brothers, but at least neither of them had ever questioned her professional expertise.

Before she knows what hit her, the three of them are sailing out of the building and towards the cars parked out front. Well, Christina is sailing, while Franklin and Diana are trotting along behind her and shooting each other sour looks. It's the kind of wrathful indignation that she hadn't felt since second grade, when Bruno Moreno had pulled her pigtails and stolen her pencil. Christina seemed unperturbed, ordering the drivers around in her accented but surprisingly decent Spanish. Felipe caught Diana's eye, wringing his hands and questions in his eye.

"It seems I will be riding with Mr and Mrs Jurado. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to follow us to their hotel and then take my work clothes back to the office after I've changed? I'd hate to have to lug around my stuff or leave it lying around somewhere. You'd be a great help this way, and as far as I'm concerned, you can go straight home after that."

"Of course, ma'am." He nodded, seeming relieved by the clear instructions. Diana smiled and handed off her garment bag to the Jurados' driver.

The drive itself could have been more awkward, what with being caged in the back of this limousine with two strangers, one of whom all but openly despised her and spent his time pouting after his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if a single word of work talk left his lips she'd shove him out the door and into oncoming traffic. Luckily she also had made it her personal mission to pack half an evening's worth of small talk into the barely twenty-minute-ride.

The Jurados' suite was grand, the lounge alone bigger than the house Diana had grown up in. She was still trying not to show how out of place she felt among all the marble and gilded edges when Christina steered her towards the back, still prattling on in a way that the DEA would have a lot of fun picking through when they got the recording from her wire.

"Ugh, this place is so... Sorry, we wanted the president's suite, but one of the North Valley people snatched it up. Their... Who is he, Franklin? That unpleasant little man - is he the leader of the pack? With the young woman we saw when we checked in. Was that his wife?"

"Salazar." Franklin muttered, his face curdling into a deeper frown. At least Diana wasn't at the top of his most hated list, apparently. "Yeah, I think so honey."

"She looked awfully young."

"I'm sure we'll meet them all at the party."

"Something to look forward to." Christina grimaced and pulled Diana into the spacious bathroom, settling her down in front of a gigantic vanity mirror.

"Alright, what are we doing with you?" Diana looked at her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her while Christina started pulling her hair free from the simple clip she'd used to hold it up.

"I, uh-" Diana pushed her glasses back up her nose and frowned. "I have contact lenses." She gestured vaguely towards her reflection. She had also packed a small bag with the handful of make-up items she owned, but lack of practice didn't exactly serve to make her adept at using them. Christina grinned excitedly, her whitened teeth shining. "Well no, that won't do! Hang on."

She sprung up and rushed towards the door, only stopping when she reached her husband who had lingered there, leaning against the frame.

"Hey you." For a moment, they softened, stealing a small kiss amid halted momentum. Diana ached to witness it. "Hey yourself."

"Go get changed." Christina smiled, kissing his cheek as she brushed past to dive into her suitcase.

"You're telling me? Don't take too long, we're on a schedule here." The words were softened by his tender expression, and as she walked past on her way back he reeled her in for another, deeper kiss. Diana pretended to be very invested in not poking her eyeballs out. Well, half-pretended. Putting in contact lenses was another thing she wasn't exactly used to. When she'd finally managed to fumble the second lens onto her eyeball, Franklin had long left and closed the door.

Without further ado, Christina set to work. Within moments, the marble counter was covered with various cosmetics and the other woman's eager hands set to work. Diana had no choice but to submit. Thankfully again, it was Christina who shouldered the bulk of the conversation.

"So, I did notice you're not wearing a wedding band, Mrs Galindo." Diana's eyes were closed, as her eyeshadow was currently being blended, but she did stiffen and instinctively her other hand went to touch where her ring had been. "Oh damn, I hope that wasn't- He's not tragically deceased, is he?"

"No, we're...separated. Divorcing. It's... it's dragging on, to be honest. I've learned more about Colombian marriage law in the past year than I ever wanted to know." She tried to diffuse with a joke, but it didn't quite land.

"Sorry, you must think me so rude. We only just met and here I am acting like we're friends!" She bit out in a jarring departure from her hitherto genial tone. "Anyway, I admire you. That can't have been easy what with how...uh-"

"...Catholic this country is?" Diana supplied, clasping the other woman's hands in hers with a slight smile. Christina huffed in relief. "Yes, I suppose. It's just... it's so hard. Marriage I mean. Sometimes I don't even know how to bear it." Her gaze fell towards the bathroom door that Franklin had closed behind himself upon leaving. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "How did you even know you couldn't go on like this?"

Diana gulped, hating what she was about to do. Resenting, for a moment, women like Gabriela who only had to sell a bit of their time and acess to their bodies to these people. She felt like she was selling away her soul every single day.

"Mrs Jurado-"

"Christina. Please, you can call me Christina."

"Christina, let me be honest. I never truly loved my husband, and he didn't love me. We liked each other and it was convenient, and expected, to get married. And in the end that proved to not be enough. But from what little I have seen, that's not something you and your husband have to contend with. Even if things are hard, as long as there is love you can overcome them. You have to believe in that."

Christina choked out a tearful little laugh, like in spite of herself.

"Oh God, good thing I haven't put on mascara yet. You're making me all dewy-eyed." She chuckled, then threw her arms around Diana and gave her a tight squeeze. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course," Diana awkwardly patted the other woman's back, thankful that she wasn't currently facing the mirror, "and I would be happy to become your friend." Whatever ice had remained between the two women was broken after that. Christina perked up and returned to chatting animatedly, finishing her make-up, doing up her hair in a very elegant twisted bun, and gushing over her dress.

"Do you have any jewelry to go with it?"

"Not really, no. I only ever wear this." Diana indicated the thin silver chain around her neck. Christina tutted.

"Well, that just won't do. Wait, let me just-" An impatient knock at the door interrupted her. "Oh dear, looks like we're running late."

Diana saw a chance to get a moment alone and suggested they each get dressed quickly, and separately, lest they waste any more time and husbandly nerves with their chatter.

"Okay, but holler if you need help with the zipper or anything."

Diana had never squeezed into a garment faster, glad that she had chosen to put on the wire device that morning already. She tugged the actual wire tight around her body where it had loosened over the course of the day, then shimmied into the underdress she'd brought in the hopes that it would conceal any suspicious bumps or lines. She had almost wrestled the zipper into its final position when Christina knocked and entered, quickly getting the last inch or so with a comment of how husbands were useful for some things.

"Anyway, I thought these would suit you." Christina presented an opened velvet case. Sitting inside it was a jewelry set, sapphires with diamonds set in gold. Real ones, judging by the Cartier labelling embossed into the velvet. A necklace, earrings, bracelet and ring, all fancier and more ostentacious than anything Diana had ever set eyes on. Immediately, her palms started sweating.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense." Christina cut her off, placing the case down and snatching the bracelet and Diana's wrist. "You'll look so pretty and expensive. You can return them to me later, we'll be in town until Tuesday." Having clasped the bracelet around her wrist, she now moved on to the earrings. "Maybe we could get coffee on the weekend or something."

"I'd like that." Diana lied. Christina smiled at her brightly. "Great! I just need to ...uh, freshen up a moment." Taking the hint, Diana gathered up her things and stepped outside, awkwardly holding her bag of of work clothes to give to Felipe down in the hotel lobby. Franklin was standing by a sideboard, boredly rifling through a magazine.

"Mrs Galindo." He acknowledged. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to add something, but caught himself. Diana followed his gaze towards the closed bathroom door, behind which low noises of shuffling and splashing water could be heard.

"How long have you two been married?" She had no idea how this information might help the investigation, but determined that wasn't for her to worry about. Franklin sighed, gaze still fixed on the door and absent.

"Seven years now." He finally tore his eyes away from the door and let them flit over her briefly, catching on the borrowed jewels but electing not to comment on it. "They say the seventh year is the hardest, don't they?"

"I wouldn't know. I never made it that far." Though if Juan Mateo didn't pull his head out of his ass soon she would spend the seventh year still technically married. The thought made her frown.

Before either of them had to search for more overburdened smalltalk, the bathroom door blessedly clicked open and Christina emerged with a wide grin and a spring to her step, her eyes just a smidgeon glassy and too bright. Diana politely pretended not to see the remnants of fine white powder that Franklin surreptitiously wiped from her nose and upper lip. --- They arrived not exactly on time but not fashionably late either. There's a line of cars already plugging up the driveway to the sprawling estate, stringed lights illuminating against the darkening sky. They got out and sauntered towards the two-storey villa, the Jurados up front and Diana trailing behind like the kid that's finally allowed to come along to the fancy family outings. Her dress hadn't felt this tight in the store, or at any point afterwards, until just now.

"Franklin! I'm so glad you're finally here! Mrs Jurado, it's a pleasure." Diana can only just contain the flinch at the sound of this voice, and before long Miguel Rodríguez turns to her with one of his bright, self-satisfied smiles. "Mrs Galindo, I'm so glad you could come. We need to introduce you to the rest of the guys! It's been too long!"

He has his arm around her shoulders within the same breath, exuberant and steering her through the scattered throngs of people at a pace that doesn't even allow for snatching a champagne flute from one of the waiters floating around. She plastered on a fake demure smile. The 'invitation' hadn't exactly been a matter of mere suggestion.

Miguel led them to a dainty pagoda that sat a comfortable distance from the pool and most of the din and chatter of the other guests, nestled between the luscious greenery of the large garden. Diana could hear the mumbled whispers of the Jurados behind her, Miguel's droning on of meaningless small talk that she barely paid attention to. She could see Gilberto's back, his stature dwarfed almost comically by that of a much larger and broader man sat to his side, with short silver hair that gleamed in the low light.

"Gentlemen, I believe we are complete!" Miguel boomed, ushering her up the few steps and into the circle.

"Mrs Galindo, what a pleasure!" Gilberto shot up and made a show of shaking her hand and pulling her close to present her to the rest of the ...associates.

"Now I believe you've not yet met these fine gentlemen. Pacho Herrera, Diana Galindo." Pacho stood and took her hand gingerly, his face impassive and tone painstakingly polite and neutral. "My pleasure."

"Mr Herrera." Diana replied, heart thumping up into her throat. They'd not so much met as passed each other in front of offices or meeting rooms a handful of times, his tightly coiled, jaguar-like energy always seeming just a smidge out of place in those blandly corporate spaces.

"And here's Chepe, came all the way down from New York especially!" The large man with the silver hair stood to his full impressive height, snatching her hand with a wolfish grin and dropping a just-too-moist kiss on the back of it with a wink. Diana did her utmost not to flinch. For just a moment, she regretted the moment she'd taken off her ring and put it in front of a shocked Juan Mateo on their kitchen table before leaving their shared apartment. It was moments like these that she missed the protection it had afforded her from some unwanted advances.

Pallomari was last, balding and skittish, with huge owl-eye glasses not unlike the first pair she'd ever had.

"Mrs Galindo, how interesting to finally put a face to the name." He greeted, sounding painfully rehearsed. Diana returned with some meaningless pleasantry, hyper-aware of the wiretap device against her skin. She wondered whether it even picked up anything apart from the thundering of her heart.

"So, about your big announcement-" Miguel began once everyone was settled into a seat with a drink in hand. Gilberto cut him off almost immediately.

"Now, now brother, let's enjoy the party a bit beforehand." A look passed between them, a challenge issued and accepted, until Miguel turned his gaze away with a barely concealed snarl. Gilberto leaned back in his seat, glass raised with a smug and triumphant smirk. "Let's just say that I have made an important investment into our future. We will continue to thrive, but more importantly, we will be safe. Our families will be safe."

With that cryptic remark, he threw back his drink, expression melting from jovial to grim. The ensuing silence made the hair on the back of Diana's neck stand up, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible with the amount of hairspray Christina had encased her head in.

"He's dead, Pablo's dead." Miguel reached over where she was squished between the two men, squeezing his brother's arm in reassurance. "He's gone and we helped bring him down."

"We did. This country should build us monuments, instead they issue arrest warrants!" Gilberto bit out, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"To Pablo Escobar, may he forever rot in hell!" Chepe bellowed, glass raised high. They all joined in. Diana thought of her father. How he'd done her hair and walked her to school every morning and tucked her in with a new story every night when she was a girl. How, during her first year of university when she'd been so lonely and homesick she broke down crying, he'd taken precious time off work and taken a night bus to come visit her in Bogotá for a weekend. How her heart still split down the middle whenever she so much as thought of the crash that killed him. But the gentlemen didn't need to know that she despised them just as much as she did Escobar, not yet anyway. So, she raised her champagne alongside and joined her voice in the chorus of gleeful condemnation. - She'd just escaped Christina and the gaggle of wives for a moment, excusing herself to the restrooms. What the DEA might glean from their inane chatter, she couldn't possibly fathom. She was glad that she was free of them for a moment, and that disecting the recording wasn't her problem to deal with. On her way into the house, she must have passed by at least two dozen important and powerful people. There were a few handfuls of representatives, a number of mayors, at least two senators, an attorney general and an army general. No one she'd ever voted for, at least. And those were just the ones she'd managed to get Miguel to introduce to her, or her to them - either way, she'd made sure to repeat every name as clearly as possible for the recording.

Rounding the last corner in from the veranda, she all but ran into Salcedo.

"Mrs Galindo." His tone was clipped as ever. She wasn't sure whether he might be suspicious of her in particular, or whether it was a general thing and he was just like that.

"Mr Salcedo." She nodded, tone painstakingly polite. He set her teeth on edge, always so stiff-backed with that serpent edge to him; in a ranking of people within the cartel who had this effect on her he would probably come in about third. She wondered what Javier- what Agent Peña would make of the man. "What brings you here, Mrs Galindo?" Or perhaps he just didn't like her for some reason. Which was very much a mutual sentiment. Not that she held particular sympathies for anyone here.

"To the restroom?" *Take a wild guess, buddy*, she thought, one eyebrow arching with clear condescension.

"To the...house."

"The restroom." She resisted rolling her eyes. As much as she may personally dislike Miguel's chief of security, purposely antagonizing him was probably a bad idea. And yet, petty temptation beckoned in every nook and cranny. Like the sideboard they were currently standing in front of that displayed a solid bronze statue of a very rotund dancing couple. "To marvel at the Botero, naturally."

Salcedo's eyes followed her nod towards the heavy bronze. "It's genuine, you know." He said it not in the tone of an art aficionado, but rather in the crudely suggestive one of a third-rate telenovela detective trying to be slick by not outright asking if she meant to steal it.

"Of course, Mr Rodríguez wouldn't stand for anything less." The thing was half her size and probably twice as heavy, what was he thinking? Himself a master at subtle insinuation, probably. Or that being poor and growing up in the comunas naturally meant she had sticky fingers. Uptight, hoity-toity middle class prick. Like his employers weren't internationally wanted criminals of the highest degree. The audacity of it!

His mouth was already halfway open to retort when his name being yelled from outside made both of them turn. David Rodríguez hung onto the veranda door, snapping at Salcedo that his father wanted him for something, and pronto. Diana could practically hear his teeth grind in irritation, but he schooled his face into a carefully blank facade before he gave David a nod.

"Ma'am." Salcedo gave in and moved, squeezing by David. David purposefully did not budge, instead giving her a leery once-over before following after the other man.

Diana fled into the bathroom down the hall in a manner she hoped looked urgent rather than as panicked as she felt inside. She held it together until the lock slid closed, and then she was crouched on the floor, curled up and heavy breathing into her hands. The small pressure point of the wire recorder thingy felt like a ton weight against her chest and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it everywhere.

Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating, her brain supplied unhelpfully, and she almost laughed at herself. She wished she wasn't here all on her own, wished she had at least one of those spy devices in her ear for some moral support, tried to recall the exact feeling of Agent Peña's hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding. One hand remained up, muffling the desperate breaths and whimpers from her mouth, while the other dropped, thumb dipping underneath the fabric at her chest to brush soothingly across her collarbone. It worked...to a degree. A very small degree. What she would give to at least have the deep, comforting rumble of his voice, or the way he'd held her close after the festival. Did he even know how calming his presence was? It always seemed to work on her, in wrath and anxiety both (something that Juan Mateo had never been able to affect unless it was to irritate her more). So much so that now even just focusing on it was enough to help her pull herself together.

The guest restroom was bigger than her childhood room had been and, of course, looked more like it belonged in some fancy hotel. All warm-toned marble and matte gold appliances. The mirror was huge and its frame, naturally, also gold. What was it with rich people's obsession with gold?

"Okay." Diana said to her reflection, then went to work freshening up. Carefully, she wiped away the smudged mascara under her eyes and reapplied her lipstick where it had come off on her drink earlier. She stuck her hands underneath her dress to check on the recording device, concerned that a wire had shaken loose or something, but the small rectangular container still sat right snug right against her sternum. She gave it an absent tap and adjusted the microphone bit so it sat just below the seam of her collar again.

"I hope you'll get something worthwhile from this because I am never doing this again." A knock on the door nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. Diana swore under her breath, then called out that she'd only be a moment.

"Sorry," an apologetic female voice came from the other side of the door, "You've been in there a while, is all. Are you alright? I have an aspirin in my purse if you need it."

Diana stopped dabbing at her still damp eyes and tried to determine whether her near panic attack was the sole reason her vision was still a bit hazy. She could count the times she'd been out without her glasses on one hand.

"Oh no it's just-," she crossed over and unlocked the door to find a young, very pretty and very concerned looking woman on the other side, "I just had some trouble with my contact lenses. They're awfully fiddly." She stepped back and opened the door wider. "All yours."

"Oh I don't-" She looked down the hallway, further into the house, her eyes widening slightly when she caught sight of something or someone outside of Diana's field of vision. "Actually, I think I need to...uh, powder my nose or something."

The door fell into its lock the same moment the younger woman had stepped into the room, not giving Diana a chance to leave. Not that she was over-eager to get back outside and mingle with the corrupt and criminal. That and the discomfort and anxiety hung around the other woman like a cloud. Diana made up her mind, sitting down on one of the plush benches in the room.

"I'm not a big fan of parties either." She stated, voice careful and soft. The other woman stood, unsure and tugging at the short hem of her dress.

"I wish they could just open the buffet already. My husband is three drinks in and he gets-" She trembled. No, shuddered. Diana patted the space beside her on the bench, a gentle invitation.

"It's alright, we can stay here for a little bit. I'm Diana."

"Maria." She stuck out her hand, which was also still trembling slightly. "Maria Salazar." --- By the time the two of them dared venture outside again, there was indeed, finally!, food to be had. Diana pulled Maria along to the relative safety of the gaggle of wives, busy amusing themselves while their husbands dealt with their important business matters. But then, the bandleader announced that the dancefloor was now officially open and started off with a spirited selection of the finest Colombian rhythms of the past twenty years. One by one the wives were collected to fill said dancefloor, leaving Diana sitting alone at the table with the sad remnants of various canapees and salads. Here was another occasion where she didn't miss Juan Mateo. Or his two left feet. Idly, she turned the near-empty cocktail glass between her fingers and wondered whether Javier danced, or could at least be persuaded to try.

"You don't dance?" David appeared so suddenly that she almost spilled the last bit of her drink. She remembered his leering earlier, forced her face not to flinch until she had raised the glass and could hide her expression of distaste behind a sip of the overly sweet and fruity cocktail. Hummed non-committally and hoping against hope that he'd grow bored and leave. Of course, she had no such luck.

"Oh, whom with? Everyone's paired up already." Sip again. The glass had another three or four in it, if she stretched it smartly enough. "I'm afraid third-wheeling is the unenviable fate of divorcees." How old was this boy anyway? She must have ten years on him, at the very least. But apparently he'd got it into his head that he must prove to himself what a man he was, and how irresistible. At least he had the good sense not to try anything with the wives of any of the powerful men present.

"Dance with me." David stated. Ah, bingo. He might have at least pretended to ask, she thought sourly. "I insist."

Of course you do, you entitled brat. "It would be my pleasure." She lies, as most politeness is lies, here in these circles comprised of snakes. Fakes a smile the way she's been taught to by this world, so easy to act and conceal the disdain underneath. It doesn't falter even when his hand, clammy and slightly sweaty, settles way too low for comfort or propriety on her hip. She resolves to step on his feet - accidentally - at least twice.

David Rodríguez was not what one would call a skilled dancer. At first, Diana had been thankful that the band wasn't playing any slow songs yet, but it had taken approximately half of 'Bamboleo' to dispel the hope that this would keep David's hands from wandering. Well, if she was stuck here she might as well try to get some intel out of him.

...It takes about two and a half songs - the band now switching to their international collection - to determine that this route of inquiry is absolutely doomed and David completely useless. Doesn't know any business particulars, and doesn't care to. Too distracted with trying to put some moves on her, which she steadfastly ignores. Well, if details of her failed marriage and dragging divorce aren't enough to discourage him, she's got another one up her sleeve. Not to mention she's been curious ever since the gaggle of wives had made their introductions earlier.

"You're not married." She leaves the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air between them as heavy insinuation.

"If I were, would I be dancing with you?" A faithful husband, and in these circles at that? What a novel idea. Diana almost snorted out loud. Left it at a telling look that seemed to go over his head completely. Doesn't have the energy to dissect how a dance with a friend or acquaintance at a party isn't exactly on par with, say, the juridical definition of adultery. Which brings her mind back to the tedium of having to explain to various lawyers, notaries, judges that no, her husband wasn't a cheating pig who drank and beat her, and that there were a multitude of quieter reasons why marriages failed.

"I have been wondering, though, where the third of the Mrs Rodríguezes belongs. Besides your mother and your aunt." She nodded over at the three women in question, one dancing with either Rodríguez brother, the third being currently twirled about by Chepe and looking a bit motion sick from it.

"My mother is dead." Ah, shit. Diana faltered, and this time the graze of her heel on his shoe really was entirely accidental. Something in David's eyes shuttered and hardened, gaze for once lifting from her body and darkly fixing on his father. "They're all my uncle's wives."

"Oh. Oh!" Diana's mouth falls open. Of all things she could have expected, this was certainly not one. "That's um... That sounds, uh..." Illegal,��but then again, what did a bit of consensual polygamy matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed.

"You sound so scandalized. Didn't think he had it in him, didn't you?" David smirked, tightening his grip on her back again and leading her in a turn.

"No, I'm just...wondering...about the, um...time management...aspect." In fairness, that was one of the things she did wonder about. David laughed, bringing her in closer.

"Each gets two days per week and Sundays he has them come all together and sit there while he watches sports."

How thrilling. "Whatever works for them, I suppose."

Diana tried to subtly twist away again. She wasn't going to get anything else from this, what with David already being bored and growing increasingly impatient. And she didn't have an escape plan that didn't consist of ramming her heel into him somewhere until she struck bone.

"Damn, can't they play something from this decade?" He whined as 'Money, money, money' faded into 'Knowing me, knowing you'. "All of this ancient stuff-" Sensing another chance to subtly nudge him away from his inexplicable sudden attraction, Diana jumped. "Oh I quite like it," she remarked lightly. Now go in for the kill "Reminds me of my youth."

David harrumphed, then grunted as her heel dug into his toes again. "Oh dear, so sorry." Diana said breezily, forcing his hand up from where it had been creeping towards her ass with a deft twirl.

"It's fine." He gritted. "Did you want to-"

"Allow me to cut in." Herrera stepped up, lightly shoving David aside to take his place. "I've not had the pleasure yet, Mrs Galindo." Diana forced a smile as his hand settled at her waist. Pro: at least this one wouldn't spend the whole time trying to feel her up. Con: not being thus distracted, he might notice...something. And become suspicious. If he wasn't already. Truth be told, Herrera scared her almost as much as Navegante did. Sometimes more so.

"Right, well this is a very tight dress, so I can't do any adventurous moves." She warned, plastering an apologetic expression onto her face. Thankfully the band had changed to a faster track, though they kept with the international flair of the selection. Next up was some Brazil, if she wasn't mistaken. David stood between the twirling couples for a long moment, glaring but not daring to do or say anything that might affront his father's business partner. She shot him a fake apologetic smile, but suspected it was more the insistent raised eyebrow from Herrera that ultimately got him to scurry.

Pacho Herrera could dance, that much was undeniable. Under different circumstances she might have even enjoyed this. He was also unnervingly quiet. If the purpose of this was to unsettle her, his tactic was very successful. At this rate, just keeping her feet under her proved to be challenge enough. One could think the band had launched into a Tarantella, given the speed they were going. Her head swam from the quick succession of turns and twirls, and when he dipped her upon the song's grand climax, her heart stopped for a variety of reasons. One of them being that she thought she felt some of her concealed wiring dislodge.

"I think your dress is not too tight after all, Mrs Galindo." He pulled back up and righted her again, blessedly stilling a moment while the band segued into a mellower number. Diana gulped in a few deep, unladylike breaths.

"No trust me, it is." She was still catching her breath; meanwhile he didn't even have a single hair out of place. Unfair. "So," Diana began her feeble attempt to bring the situation back under some semblance of control, "Are you interested in... tax exemptions?" Apparently humans could wheeze and cringe simultaneously. Very interesting. Herrera didn't answer immediately, just started leading her back into a mellow sway.

"I think you're interested enough for all of us, Mrs Galindo. Miguel showed us the figures earlier. Very impressive. I see why DIAN recruited you right out of university." How he made what was ostensibly a compliment sound like a threat, Diana didn't know, just that it did nothing for her heart rate.

"Thank you." He spun her out along with a flourish from the brass section, turning her already shaky voice into a squeak. She really hoped the recording had not picked that up. After the spin, his hand slid up over her back, before settling back on her waist. To her horror, something in Pacho's expression twisted and he pulled her closer, hand splaying over her mid-back again. So much for avoiding being fondled for one dance.

"What's this?"

"Oh, I don't want to bore you with the details of women's undergarments. Suffice to say I'm wearing an insane amount of Spanx right now."

There was a prolonged moment, during which Diana tried to keep her cool while deciding how much of a scene she was willing to cause should he not let it rest. Normally none at all, then again it was her life on the line.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Rodríguez requests you make your way to the equestrian ring for the big announcement."

Never in her life had Diana welcomed an interruption like at this very moment. Herrera hesitated for a split second, expression still unreadable, before joining the throngs of people set in motion. He grasped her hand firmly, looping it through his elbow until it rested on his forearm, where he pinned it with his other hand. Just unconspicuous enough to look polite to any onlooker, just forceful enough that she knew she couldn't free herself without obvious struggle.

"He could have done this up on the other stage." Miguel grumbled when they reached him, standing off the side to the stage that had been set up in the area.

"You know how he is, Miguel. Always has to have his way." The two men exchanged a glance around her while more people filed past.

"Mrs Galindo."

Diana hummed in acknowledgement, returned the meaningless pleasantries. Yes of course she was enjoying herself. What a lovely party. The music? Exhilarating. The buffet? Exquisite. Her divorce? Ugh. She would really prefer not to think about that right now, thank you very much.

"It's next Thursday, right? Your court appointment?"

"Yes, thank you for letting me combine this with a work trip to Barranquilla. It's my personal business after all."

"Of course, we want you at your best. Undistracted. Unburdened." Diana almost laughed, barely managed to suppress the snort and cover it with clearing her throat.

"I thought that had all gone through ages ago." Herrera remarked lightly, grip finally easing up some from her wrist. Diana sighed.

"I'm divorced, as far as I'm concerned. I moved out, signed my papers. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. I'm not going back to him. This obstinate little tantrum isn't helping his case anyway." Countless hours spent arguing with various legal professionals flashed before her eyes. "It's a very tedious process."

"It's a very catholic country." Pacho said, somewhere between wistful and embittered. She used his momentary distraction to pull her arm free.

"That's true."

Up on the stage, Gilberto was fiddling with a microphone and waiting for the last few stragglers to come and fill up the equestrian ring so he could begin. Again, the two men exhanged a telling glance around her.

"You gonna go up there with him?" Pacho said lowly, hands now crossing behind his back. Miguel shook his head.

"You go. I'll stay here. Better view."

Diana stayed demonstratively rooted to the spot when Herrera started moving. He shot her a look, which she pretended not to notice in favor of striking up more mindless small talk with Miguel. Apparently Herrera decided that it wasn't worth making a big deal out of, choosing instead to let her be and weave through the audience until he reached the bottom of the stage, exchanging a greeting with Santacruz and glowering over the assembled crooks and accomplices.

Gilberto's speech was... full of pathos and grandstanding, and too many high-minded terms for such a petty crook, she thought. When did the delusions or grandeur usually start appearing, she wondered. Was it with the first million? The first billion? But it's the core of the announcement that makes her gasp and sets the wheels in her mind into overdrive, the implications just mounting up. She spares a quick glance at Herrera at the foot of the stage, his face too demonstratively blank save for furrowed brows. Miguel beside her is more expressive, but quick to reign his face back in. Among the surprised gasps and whispers all around it tells her enough. Briefly, she thought of making a comment to Miguel, but his jaw is set so tight she can hear the grinding of teeth and she doesn't have anything productive or intelligent to say anyway, so she lets it be. Swallows the bile that rises up in her throat as Gilberto proclaims 'For our children! And for our children's children!', and tries not to roll her eyes. Or gouge his out, for the sheer gall of it. Because here she stands, approaching thirty-five and still deathly afraid to bring a baby into a world they have made so violent, so toxic, so dangerous. Meanwhile Salome is without her parents, both murdered by this unending war. Meanwhile a David Rodríguez flounces around as some sort of better henchman, he and his cousins all cushy and carefree thanks to daddy's blood money. It churns the stomach with rage.

"Mrs Galindo! Just the woman I've been looking for!"

The crowd parts for him, less so out of reverence and more because people are slowly drifting away, gossip already flying about, Diana is pleased to note.

"Mr Rodríguez, what an...impactful speech." She said demurely, keeping all her sneering tucked safely away behind the mask of officiousness.

"It's the coup of the century!" She catches Miguel's scoff just in the corner of her eye. "It also means transferring our assets into the...ah, ...legitimate sphere, if you will." He's got his arm around her shoulders again, leading her back towards the dancefloor, the buffet and tables, the house. By chance and his smaller stature, he's speaking almost directly into the shoulder with the hidden microphone attached, detailing all the financial acrobatics he wants her to perform to save all their assets from both law- and taxman. There she went again, trading complicity for access. --- Just over an hour on and the gender ratio has left Diana sitting squished between Herrera and the youngest of the Mrs Rodríguezes, but at least he seems to have taken his measure of her. And swallowed her undergarment excuse. Swallowed...undergarments. She snorted semi-loudly into the cocktail she'd been nursing this whole time, the ice in it all but dissolved. Dammit, here eyes were getting heavier by the minute and it wasn't even that late, barely midnight. Then again she had been up since five and alcohol, even though she hadn't had all that much, always made her sleepy. And the guests had started trickling away, leaving behind a scene of mild devastation.

"I think Mrs Galindo needs to go home." It was Franklin Jurado speaking, Christina's head buffered on his shoulder as she slept. Diana had just enough self-control left to not tell him to fuck off. Or maybe she really is too tired to; doesn't even have it in her to get annoyed at Gilberto's patronizing tone as he agrees.

"Yes, why don't you drive Mrs Galindo home?"

She hums more in acknowledgement than agreement to Hererra's suggestion, tired eyes hazily following his line of sight to the man stepping forward from the shadows at being summoned. His gaudy shirt reminds her of one Juan Mateo had worn on their honeymoon and which she had hated half because it had been a gift from her horrible mother-in-law, and half because it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. And then realization hits and her blood runs ice-cold and alertness slams back into her consciousness like a bullet.

"Mr Velasquez." her voice is so weak and brittle, she thinks it must give her away if nothing else did so far. She took one last sip to wet her dry mouth, and because frankly she needs the alcohol now more than ever. The suggestion to call a taxi died on her lips as she realized that there was truly no way out of this. So, she steels herself and stands on sore feet, bidding the bosses of Calí and their dependents a good night. "I would be much obliged, Mr Velasquez."

Navegante approximated a smile and stalked ahead. --- Well, there goes his progress. He'd been down to three smokes a day, four on a bad day, due in part to an iron adherence to some hard and fast self-imposed rules, such as no smoking in his office (or, in fact, no smoking inside the building at all). Tonight, however, is the night of the Calí godfathers' big announcement party, and Javier had not moved from his office for longer than a quick bathroom break or coffee run. He had also gone through half a pack of cigarettes in the last two hours, and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy the longer he spent glancing at the phone on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he pretended to make his way through the mountain of paperwork that somehow never seemed to get any smaller. The fact that he'd woken that morning with the memory of Diana Turbay's lifeless body crumpled in that cupboard certainly hadn't helped.

He last looked at a clock around half past nine, when a very insistent cleaning lady had shooed him out of his office and he'd spent around ten anxious minutes hovering by the door in case the phone rang. It hadn't, and now here he was, eyes burning and brain mushy with his heartbeat a steady pulsing behind his temples. And he wondered–

Javier swiped up the phone before the first ring had even finished. "Miss Rivas!"

"I'm fine." She didn't sound fine. She sounded on edge. Rattled. Like she was trying to reassure herself. He gripped the phone receiver tighter.

"Where are you?" What was he gonna do? Drive all the way to Calí from Bogotá at half an hour past midnight? Even a flight would take hours, and raise suspisions to boot.

"I said I'm fine," she replied, nails clacking rhythmically against the plastic phone casing in what he knew by now to be a nervous tick. "I'm safe. I'm home."

Javier breathed a relieved sigh, rigid shoulders slumping a fraction. He supposed he could have ordered Duffy or Lopez to do something if push had come to shove, though what he honestly had no idea.

"Good, that's good."

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift."

Who the hell was that? "Who the hell is that?" Javier asked.

"You probably know him as Navegante." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Mentally he's already halfway out the door, physically at least halfway out of the office until the phone wire makes known its spatial limitations.

"You alright? Is he still there? Lock your door, double lock it, I-"

"I didn't give him the exact address, please calm down." He does, but only enough to catch his breath and not bolt out the door. There's a rustling from her end of the line, and she makes a sort of breathless little sound, somehwere between a sigh and a grunt, followed by a low but vicious curse.

"You okay?"

"It's the damn zipper again; I'm this close to pulling something. Hang on." Judging by the thud that reverberates she set the phone down on a counter or table. Javier's hand went to rub at the back of his neck, half reflex, half sympathy. "Let's focus on the real issue here. The announcement."

The way she said it was urgent, but he chose to believe this was due to wanting to get the message out and not to any concerns of Navegante lurking nearby. He had to, for his own sanity.

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government."

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly.

"The new Samper administration. I knew why I didn't vote for those clowns. No, that's ...I had many reasons for that actually, first and foremost of them being that the Liberal Party nowadays is a damn joke. And to think that this is the same party that my parents fought for in their youth! Anyway, enough of that. They get half a year to get their house in order, then turn themselves in on the smallest possible charges, minimal jail time, back out again after a few years and back into their cushy lives with all of their blood money laundered neatly away. A clean slate." He'd never heard her sound so bitter, and he'd heard a good deal of her opinions on the Gentlemen of Calí over the past year.

"So they're just going to get away with it." Javier grit out, equally livid. "Wait, you said Gilberto cut the deal? What about the others?"

"Yes, so here is where it gets interesting. I didn't get the sense that they knew. Beforehand I mean. You should have outfitted me with a camera too, because Miguel's face was priceless." Another grunt and then a triumphant little 'ha' and then her voice sounded clearer again, nearer as she picked the phone back up.

"He doesn't like it."

"None of them like it. Don't want to give up the power, if I had to guess. What is it with men and building their entire ego on how much they can make others fear them?"

Javier hummed non-committally, deciding that he had nothing valuable to add at this point.

"Yeah, you're right. So how do I get the 'ooof' ...the recording to you? Usual way?" Javier didn't even get to reply no when she went on, now audibly shuffling around her apartment and out of the rest of her clothes. "I can't believe I almost forgot! I met the money launderer. His name is Franklin Jurado. He'll be in Calí until Tuesday with his wife Christina. I somewhat promised her to meet for coffee on Sunday; if you can have one of your agents trail me you can get them."

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to have to dash it, even for her own safety, but snatching such an important cartel member so soon and with her so close would cast suspicion. She couldn't be involved. And he hadn't heard back from his agents yet, which was possibly a bad sign. Javier made up his mind, cringing while he glanced at the clock to make some mental calculations.

"I'm coming over."

"To Calí?"

"Yes, what's your address? Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else?"

She gave her address, sounding stunned. He jotted it down under the note he'd made of Jurado's name; he'd need someone to look the guy up first thing tomorrow.

"You're not leaving now, are you? It's late, you need to sleep." Javier could picture the way her brow creased in a frown just from the tone of her voice.

"No, I'll call you again as soon as I know when I'll be there." Driving the whole way would be a nightmare and eat up most of the day. Javier whirled around and pulled an atlas from the shelf behind his desk. Flying in directly was out of the question with the way the godfathers had the whole city under surveillance. Buenaventura, under two hours by plane and then about two and a half from there to Calí. Yes, that would work.

"Goodness, you're actually serious about this."

"Of course." Javier stopped in his tracks for the first time in several minutes now, taking a moment to breathe and slump in his seat. He was exhausted yet wide awake, and likely would be for some time. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, umm...anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Javier stopped. He would be staying for dinner, possibly the night, too. In a hotel of course, he couldn't possibly impose-

"You don't have to cook for me." His mouth said, but his stomach said bandeja paisa. Briefly, the thought of taking her out for dinner popped up, indulgent and unbidden, and was immediately squashed by the thought of the godfathers' eyes everywhere. "I can pick something up on the way."

Her protest turned into a yawn not two syllables in. Javier couldn't help the small smile appearing on his face, felt it only by how it twinged his tense jaw. "You're tired, you should rest."

"We're not finished with this." She mumbled obstinately. "You rest."

"I will." He would, eventually. "I'll call you tomor- ...today." A quick glance at the clock revealed it was now past midnight. She made a very grumpy, very adorable huffy sound, mumbling something about the inexorable passage of time.

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas."

"You too..." There was a rustle and the quiet squeak and groan of a bedframe and mattress. He waited a moment, unsure whether more was coming or whether she'd just been too tired to disconnect the call. A short silence burst into a quick curse, her voice remote but still clear enough to make out. "...God fucking dammit, fucking contact lenses! Son of a rabid-"

"Miss Rivas?" By the rapid padding of feet and the continued cursing he had to suppose that she hadn't heard, and by how either sound seemed to be at about equal distance with neither decreasing, he supposed further that the phone was still in her hand. As soon as he heard the 'thunk' that most likely meant that the phone had been tossed down on some surface, he tried again. "Miss Rivas?"

"You're still there?" She sounded marginally more awake now, but not like this state would persist for very long.

"You didn't hang up." And perhaps Javier wasn't all too opposed to having the continued assurance that she was alright and her cover intact. "You swear very entertainingly, by the way."

"I'm glad my lack of filter and ladylike decorum amuses rather than appalls you." Splashing water interrupted them for a moment, but was quickly replaced by more colorful cursing.

"Please, don't hold back." Javier commented drily, not really expecting to be heard clearly since the satphone didn't have a loudspeaker.

"Very funny. Why don't you talk to me a bit more while I try not to poke my eyes out by accident-"

"I- ...I'm afraid I don't really have anything interesting to talk about."

"And I don't have enough brain left today for anything more taxing than the weather anyway. I just need your voice; I'm dead on my feet. How was the weather in Bogotá today? I always found it so cold when I was at university there. Nothing like Medellín. They used to call me 'chompa' at uni because I would never go anywhere without one. Too cold. And of course Calí is so much warmer than either..."

"It's been quite grey here, and not especially warm either. Back home it's at least twice as warm but I've been here so long now I think I'm more used to it."

"I never asked where exactly you're from..."

"Laredo, Texas. It's right on the border with Mexico."

"Laredo..." She mused, puttering about still. "Oh like the song? As I walked walked out on the streets of Laredo..." She must really be tired and devoid of all usual inhibitions, Javier thought, to just start singing like this. Not that he minded. She got halfway through the first stanza until she faltered, the lyrics escaping her. Her voice was soft and with that same raspy edge she had when speaking. It was a voice suited best to lullabies he thought; or to yearnful ballads performed in smoky bars, or some similarly wistful thing. "Aren't I supposed to be the one talking?"

"Hmm, this works too. I'm almost done, so you won't have to humor me much longer. So, tell me more about Laredo while I brush my teeth." --- He ended up talking longer than that - divulging more than he ever planned to as per usual, of the town and the ranch that sat up against the river - until she was settled back into bed and about to doze off for good. If nothing else, it settled him too somewhat, though sleep would elude him for a a good while yet even despite the physical and mental exhaustion the day, or in fact the whole week, had brought him. No sooner had he disconnected the line with a soft 'Sleep well' than the phone rang again.

"Yes?"

"Boss, I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!" Duffy's voice sounded strained and any modicum of relaxation Javier might have gained dissipated with immediate effect. He scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and resigned himself to dealing with one more catastrophe.

"Duffy, what is it?" Agents Duffy and Lopez had organized their own infiltration of the godfathers' party, courtesy of the intel provided by Miss Rivas as well as what Operation Cornerstone had shaken loose. At least he knew it was nothing that had blown the cover of his informant.

"Okay well, no use beating around the bush here. Our guy got made, and Calí knows we're here-" Javier listened to his agent's report with his frown deepening. Why was it that with every step forward, another wrench was thrown his way?

"Alright, close up shop. Leave as soon and as inconspicuously as you can. I'll see you back here at the embassy on Monday morning." He ordered. Hopefully the gentlemen and their security would leave it at the gesture of intimidation, especially if they thought themselves well on the way of becoming untouchable, but one could never be too careful.

---

Javier consulted the clock for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. Normally the bar down the street from the embassy wouldn't be his first or even fourth choice, but tonight he was looking for a place to wind down with the shortest possible distance to cover afterwards. The danger of being accosted by any of his co-workers was one he'd simply have to brave. If luck was on his side for once, none of the more sociably inclined would be there any more, or too engrossed in their own merriment to notice him slink in, and if not, his curmudgeonly ways were known well enough that a civil yet decisive refusal would hopefully be deterrence enough.

It was for Stoddard, but of course not for Bill Stechner, the non-drug-lord bane of Javier's existence. Ostensibly on the same side, though Javier would argue that the CIA was on its own side entirely. Or that their budget would be spent more productively by making the damn lot of them just feed dollar bills through a shredder, but no one asked Javier about these things. So, he sits and grinds his teeth while Stechner's smug voice grates on his nerves. Visualizes strangling the CIA station shief with the tie he'd just pulled off and balled up into his pocket moments ago, which does a little bit to alleviate the almost overbearing urge to smash Stechner's face into the bar top. "Oh come on, you don't care about American streets or dead Colombians."

And the deal? How the hell does Stechner know about the deal when it's only just been announced? For a split-second, he wonders whether Diana- but no, he trusts her completely, and he hasn't told anyone except a handful of his agents about her, deciding this information was so sensitive it was strictly need to know, and even they only knew her by her assigned code name. Not even the ambassador knew that he had such a high-priority informant on the inside of the cartel. Stechner must have some government source, be it an informant of his own or bugs in the offices of ministers. The way he only mentions Lopez and Duffy's operation confirms it.

"Same goal my ass." Javier muttered into his whiskey after Stechner slithered away. This had been supposed to be a one-drink-night, but now he was feeling like he might need at least three more, if only to dull the screeching of his swirling thoughts.

It's no use. He's all keyed up still, something feels like it's burrowing inside of his chest, some sort of woodland critter both desperate and unable to settle down. He's tired, too, of course, eyes heavy and burning and sore, feels like his eyeballs are coated in smoke and pitched open by caffeine. He shouldn't have had that much coffee that late; despite his high tolerance it does still have an effect on him. Thank goodness on any given day, but right now he's regretting it. His leg jumps, knee knocking painfully against the bar front. He feels eyes on him. They've been there since he walked in, furtively glancing throughout his confrontation with Stechner, but bolder now. He feels it like a prickle on his skin. Turns his gaze finally. Sees long dark hair, open, melting into the late shadows of the bar. Too long, but it'll have to do. She's... he's definitely seen her around before. The elevator? Different department, perhaps press office, or visas. Definitely nowhere near the DEA offices or he would have known her name. She's coming over now, leaning easily against the bartop, slender fingers tapping, and an easy, eager smile. Her hair isn't dark enough, and too long and wavy all the way through instead of only curling at the ends, and nothing else about her appearance quite matches up, but she's pretty and willing and he's pent up and about to crawl out of his skin. And so he lets her take him home. And he means to leave right after, he really does. If only not to give any impression of this having even the slightest potential of becoming any more than it is. But Katie (that's her name, but he's learnt a long time ago to not groan out names during, because whether the name is correct or not it always turns out bad somehow), Katie sleepily mumbles that he can stay because it's late, and truth be told? He's completely shot, feels like he couldn't move if he wanted to. And the thought of dragging himself back to his empty apartment with only his thoughts for company is the most unbearable thing at this moment. Her mattress is too soft and despite the fact that he only laid on it until waking again at first light, it messes up his back for almost a week. --- It is indeed much warmer in this side of the country, and an especially hot day in Calí itself. On the coast where he'd landed, there had at least been a breeze blowing in from the Pacific, but the further inland Javier drives the less the air seems to move. He felt the sweat start to gather at his hairline, and down his neck, as soon as he parked the rental car in front of the cluster of new-ish high rise apartment blocks in one of the north-western boroughs of the city.

Javier grabbed his one piece of luggage and the bag of takeout he'd picked up on the way, just as promised, and walked up to the first building to study the panel beside the door for the correct bell to ring. A sharp whistle made him look around, then up at the next building. Miss Rivas was all but hanging off the side of her balcony, waving down and giving Javier half a heart attack seeing as she was on the sixth floor. He waved back in acknowledgement, then jogged over to the already buzzing door, which he pushed open. Blessedly, there was an elevator, and not two minutes later he stood in front of her apartment, the door swinging open before he could raise his hand to knock.

"Hi." She sounded breathless, as if she'd run up six flights of stairs, not across an apartment.

"... Miss Rivas." In his relief, he'd almost slipped. Almost called her by her first name, but they're not there yet, strangely. Or not strangely at all, in fact. It's quite by design. It's a way of keeping himself detached; professional. Or whatever excuse he could come up with to maintain this state of perpetual denial.

"Umm, ...lunch? I brought lunch." He thrust the bag foward, watched it swing between them while cringing inwardly.

"Good! I've only been up for two hours or so; I don't even care what it is, I'm starving!" Carefully, she took the bag from him, one hand supporting the bottom like a newborn's head, the other brushing his as she looped her fingers through the handles. "Come in, come in."

Javier stood a full three seconds or so after she'd already turned around and walked down the narrow hallway, rooted to the spot and struck dumb like some sort of imbecile. His skin prickled in all the places he'd let Katie touch him the night before, which, admittedly, hadn't been too many - but still enough to be burning him with that familiar mixture of guilt and shame now. So he does what he does best when it comes to emotions: deny and repress.

He left his shoes beside the pair of strappy heels she must have discarded there the night before, probably in a hurry to get the severely uncomfortable looking things off after spending a whole evening in them. The hallway opened into an open living room and dining area, the balcony beyond that, and a galley-style kitchen off to one side not unlike his own apartment. It was a sparse place, not quite enough furniture to fill the space - a long couch and coffee table, a low sideboard with a TV on it, none of it new save for the stereo system that was of course on and softly playing the usual eclectic music mix. Javier dropped his bag beside the couch where it would be out of the way. The dining table barely deserved the name. It was a small, round, reedy looking thing, just large enough for two, or maybe two and a child, with two plastic fold-out chairs. On it stood a light blue and white ceramic fruit bowl that currently held zero fruit, just the recording device he'd given her and... some pieces of golden sapphire and diamond jewelry? Puzzled, Javier picked up what turned out to be a bracelet. He raised one eyebrow at her as she set down plates for them.

"Got a raise?"

"Ha! As if. I should have, though. What with the extra work I got saddled with last night. That's the problem with rich people. Miserly. The more zeroes on their bank statements the stingier they get." She scoffed, ranting away all the way to and fro carrying the cutlery. "No, this-" she stabbed a spoonhandle through the bracelet and swirled it around once, twice, before glowering at the gemstones darkly, "This is what Mrs Jurado had me borrow to complete my outfit yesterday. Obviously I have to return them, which is why I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow afternoon. If you do your whole government agent covert spy observation thing you could at least get eyes on her, maybe even him, too. Franklin Jurado, the money launderer. You can just smell the entitlement on him. I bet he went to one of the really fancy schools over there, like Princeton. Or maybe Harvard."

"I'm glad to see you're making friends." Javier had followed her to the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet and watching her place the food on plates, any attempts to help or make himself useful deftly rebuffed as always.

"I think it was Harvard actually. I think he mentioned it- It's on the recording, in any case. Real smug about it too. La Javeriana is a perfectly good university, too. Older, too. Luis Carlos Galán attended it, you know? Graduated in economics and law, like I did."

"Like the new president, too." Javier dared remark, only to be leveled with a death glare that could make a man fear for his life.

"Professor Samper, oh yes," she said pointedly, thrusting the plates at him, "Don't remind me please. The whole family attended, have for generations."

Javier dutifully carried over the dishes and set them down, returning a moment later for the pitcher of water. Diana followed him, wiping her glasses with her tee-shirt in a gesture he had come to know was more about calming down than it was about being able to see better.

"Right, no politics at meal time. Tell me something interesting instead." Diana attacked her food with a frightening kind of fervor. And suddenly the only thing he could think about was what Stechner had told him the night before, how the deal would go ahead, a neat little setup by politicians whose only objective was looking good enough for re-election. Naturally, the words died in his throat. He shrugged and started digging in.

"Nothing huh? Okay, well, how about this then: How many Mrs Rodríguezes are there?"

"Is this a trick question?" There should be one only, seeing as Miguel was widowed and his little shit of a son wasn't exactly husband material - nor looking to be. "One?"

"Close. There's three."

That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make any sense. Miguel is widowed and David- ...Gilberto! Gilberto?"

"Gilberto." She confirmed. "All three. They have a rota, apparently. On Sundays they just sit around while he watches whatever game is on which sounds thrilling. And I thought my marriage was crap."

"Huh." If Javier thought that the farcical nature of governmental - and inter-governmental - bureaucracy had prepared him for the absurdity of chasing drug kingpins he had apparently been sorely mistaken. But mostly, he was relieved to see that Diana was in such good spirits again, what with how affected she'd sounded the night before. Lunch was over in no time at all, and Javier felt his short night starting to catch up with him. He yawned surreptitiously as he helped carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, or what he thought had been surreptitious anyway.

"Okay, coffee or nap?"

"Huh?" Dammit, his eyes were burning. Diana took the plates and deposited them in the sink, leaving him to blink sluggishly. "I can do those. The dishes."

"You're about to keel over. Haven't slept a wink, have you?"

"About three hours, and another half hour or so on the plane. I'm fine, really." He admitted. The fact that he had to lean against the cabinets did not exactly serve to strengthen his argument. Diana tutted.

"I need to run some errands, grocery shopping and the like. If you are really determined to get to work on the recording I'll make you a good strong coffee before I go, but I would personally suggest you use the time to catch up on some sleep. The couch pulls out."

It was tempting, it really was, but Javier also knew that he'd have a harder time falling asleep later if he messed up his rhythm more now.

"Coffee it is, then." She set to work in the same breath.

A fond smile pulled at Javier's lips. "Thank you." --- Even knowing she was fine and safe now, she hadn't expected that listening to the recording would be so excruciatingly stressful. She had very helpfully compiled a list of encounters, along with time estimates (and a very evocative caricature of the chief accountant, Guillermo Pallomari), which had allowed him to fast forward through the recording to get a general overview. Even so, he'd gotten stuck on several bits, even replaying a few. The introductory round, for one. Her panic attack in the bathroom. Or the segment with that slimy little bastard David Rodríguez. Her quick thinking and clever diversion of Pacho's suspicions. He hated hearing the strain in her voice, the barely masked anxiousness that none of them even seemed to notice but that stood out to him so very clearly. His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding– The lock on the front door clicked open, jolting Javier from his focused state. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been well over three hours since she'd left for her errands, afternoon now melting into early evening. In his haste to get up he tangled the wires, cursing as he he sat back down. Diana huffed into view, heavy-looking bags on each arm.

"Hey there," she threw him a quick smile before vanishing into the kitchen to set down her load, re-emerging a heartbeat later. She crossed the distance in a few strides, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she leaned over him to peer at the notes he'd taken. "How's it going? Anything viable?"

Her touch, given with such casual affection, electrified him. He'd never been, never considered himself the type of person anyone would come home to.

"Plenty." He needed to collect himself, clear his throat and mind and get a grip. "You did amazing work." And I can't use it in court because you incriminate yourself all throughout.

"Good, I'm glad. Would have been a re-"

The shrill ringing of her landline interrupted them. Immediately, Javier mourned the loss of her touch, the spot on his shoulder where her hand had lingered now turning cold. Pull yourself together, dammit!

The telephone was mounted on the wall that separated hallway and kitchen, and had a cord long enough to allow for a range of movement to about halfway into the latter. Unsure of whether he was supposed to be listening, he tried to go back to the recording. Only tried rather turned into pretended. As quickly as he had put the headphones on, he took them off again, watching Diana for a moment of hesitation. She was shuffling around the kitchen entrance, emptying her shopping bags with the phone receiver pinned between her cheek and shoulder. She was talking to her aunt, tense and worried, but managed a small smile when she caught Javier's eye. Wordlessly, he started helping her putting the groceries away as directed.

"No, I know you don't approve. No one approves except Gabriela, and incidentally Gabriela is also the only one who saw that I was making a mistake right from the start and the only one who tried to dissuade me from going through with the wedding, and if I'd only listened to her and my gut back then, I wouldn't-" She turned her back at this, and Javier put away the last few pieces and left the kitchen, giving her the pretense of privacy at least. It wasn't like the apartment was so vast that her voice wouldn't carry. He walked over to the stereo system he'd turned off earlier and switched it back on, fiddling with the volume by way of looking distracted.

"...No, and I don't want to talk about it any more. I don't care what the Pope says; the Pope was never married! ...Yes, put her on; I think that's better for everyone involved."

Immediately her voice and stance relaxed, became softer and warmer, and the conversation a lot more one-sided as Diana talked to Salome on the phone. Javier's knees were starting to protest at his half-kneeling by the sideboard, but he was too transfixed by trying to determine whether the little girl would perhaps say a few words today. She sometimes did, though very rarely, and Javier had yet to witness it himself.

"Okay, my little darling, you be good for granny, alright? Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. Bye-bye."

Diana hung up and shuffled over, taking a seat on he edge of the coffee table closest to him. Javier gave up on the volume dial and turned towards her.

"Everything okay?" She nodded and took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Cautiously, Javier placed his hand atop hers where it laid in her lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the top of it soothingly. "And are you okay?"

"I will be; I just- ...I try that she at least hears my voice every day, even if I can't be there and- She's so little and has already lost so much, and every time I have to leave I feel like I'm just making it worse and like maybe that's why she still barely talks. And it's so unfair! She's just a little girl and she needs her mother or at least she needs a mother and we try - my aunt and I try our best but we're all that's left of this family." Her voice got quieter with each word, fading to a whisper before ceasing. Javier didn't know how to respond; all the obvious things seemed like meaningless phrases, frivolous and unhelpful. Diana deflated, her whole frame drooping like misery personified. She let out a single, quiet sob, gripping his hand in both of hers like he was her anchor. "I just wish I at least knew what I was doing."

She wiped at her eyes angrily, blindly grasping for the glasses on the table behind her until she found them and shoved them back on. She stood abruptly, but did not let go of his hand, instead tugging him up, to which his beleaguered knees only objected more.

"Sorry, forget that. Let's sort out dinner." She stalked back into the kitchen, and Javier could only follow of creaky knees, the blood rushing back down into his feet and making them prickle and almost falter. She finally let go of his hand in front of the refridgerator, throwing open the door of it like a shield between them.

"So for dinner I was thinking-"

"Miss Rivas." She didn't even hear him, just went on explaining what was possible with the ingredients she'd picked up earlier. Javier laid his hand on top of hers gently, feeling the tension in her fingers, the tremble in them as she gripped the fridge door tight. Gently still, he eased her grip and shut the door. She didn't even look at him, obstinately staring down at the tiled floor instead.

"I'm in control of my emotions." She declared defiantly. "I'm not a liability to your investigation."

"I know." Javier took both her hands in his now, squeezed them once, still gentle. Kept his voice soft too; soft and low and for her ears only. "I know you ...aren't. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're doing amazing. It's okay." On the last few words, he raised their entwined hands, nudging her chin up to look at him. Took in her reddened but stubbornly dry eyes, her lips pressed into a painful line, and the hard set of her jaw and brows. All she needed was one final push to let go, one word of permission, and he gave it gladly. "It's okay."

He'd expected an outburst now, an explosive outpouring of grief or at least wrath. Instead, Diana squeezed his hands back once before letting go, leaving him standing in the kitchen while she went into her bedroom. He heard her rummage around for a moment, then she returned with a small photo album in her hands which she carefully set down on the counter before throwing it open and flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It showed what he assumed was her family. He recognized only her and Maritza, both noticeably younger then. Side by side, the family resemblance became more apparent, especially in comparison with the respective parents. Wordlessly, she flipped through the pages. In the next one Maritza's father was missing, the one after that, her own father was no longer there. The one after that showed the addition of a young man and what must have been a newborn Salome, him holding the baby with a broad, dimpled smile that his daughter had inherited. He was gone in the following picture, Diana's mother vanished in the one after that, until the last photograph showed only Maritza's mother, Diana herself, and little Salome.

"Some time after we cleared out Maritza's apartment, I went to Escobar's grave. If I was looking for some kind of satisfaction, I didn't find it there." She closed the album with a sharp snap. "The whole drive back, last night, I was sure I was about to end up fish fodder, and I just thought... with how my aunt's health is failing, will Salome be all alone in the world before she's even five?"

Javier swallowed hard, choking on the words that had sprung up onto the tip of his tongue. That he wouldn't let that happen (but it could have happened not twenty-four hours prior and there would have been nothing he could have done about it). That he would make sure the little girl was taken care of (How? He wasn't kin and Diana's aunt didn't know him. And he wasn't exactly prime fatherhood material, so what exactly did he think he could do?). And in the back of his head, he still heard the desperate shallow little breaths she'd heaved during her panic attack. So different words jumped onto his tongue instead, tumbling out before he could ever think through the implications.

"Do you want out? You don't even have to go meet Mrs Jurado tomorrow, I can organize to have you pulled out within the week. And your family too. You'd be safe." 'I am never doing this again', she'd said. Well, he wouldn't make her. And considering what he knew now, that his whole investigation was just a front? What was the damn point of it anyway?

Diana smiled, just a slight quirk of the corner of her lip, but the first in what felt like hours now. "Now? No. I don't want anyone else having to go through what my family and I went through, here or anywhere. This kind of...lust for power - it's grasping. It never stops, it is never satisfied. And it doesn't care what stands in its way."

"You sure?" He ought to tell her, he really ...but even though the betrayal isn't his, just his to hand on, he hesitates again.

"I am. Starting with meeting Christina Jurado tomorrow. Besides, you'll be with me all the way through."

"Yeah," his voice creaks like a rusty hinge, "Yeah, of course I'll be. Just a stone's throw away." --- "Goodness, does she ever shut up?" Javier shut the door behind himself, hanging up the spare key on the hook by the door. They'd just returned from Diana and Mrs Jurado's coffee and lunch date - separately for safety purposes - and Javier's head was still swimming. Diana might be reasonably called talkative, but at least she had things to say. Christina Jurado, it turned out, could talk a mile a minute without saying much of substance at all. Diana had been all but steam-rollered by the barrage of conversation and Javier, who had listened closely to all two and a half hours of it, was starting to feel the beginnings of a pressure headache building.

"Without being condescending, Agent Peña, there is so much that men don't understand about the way women talk with each other." Diana peeked out into the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, she may well have been... uuh-"

"May have been what?" After discarding his shoes, he walked into the apartment fully. Diana frowned, then touched a fingertip to the side of her nose with a meaningful look. When he didn't light up with sudden understanding, she gave a good-natured yet long-suffering sigh. And Javier really thinks he should probably have slept more than four hours, but his back was now paying the price for his stint on that marshmallow fluff that passed for Katie's mattress, and also his mind liked to give him trouble when it ought to quiet down.

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?"

"Mrs Jurado, I have good reason to believe, likes to uhh... sample the product." The penny rolled around Javier's exhausted mind a moment longer before dropping.

"...You mean to tell me she was high on cocaine the whole time?"

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Why indeed. Javier cleared his throat and wondered why this revelation left him so scandalized. "She did use on Friday night, too, which is a frequency I honestly find alarming. I hope it's more of a weekend thing- Franklin knows, but I don't think he has any idea what to do about it. I'd reckon it's something they're both keen to keep under wraps, though for different reasons. I don't imagine the gentlemen would be overly thrilled, especially the brothers. They like to keep a pretty tight hold on everything even remotely to do with the business."

"Huh... what the hell are you do-" While he had been musing on this new development in his sluggish mind, she'd stuck one hand down her blouse from the top and the other up it from the bottom, fumbling around for a moment before pulling the wiretap she'd been wearing for the meeting out and handing it to him non-chalantly.

"When's your flight?"

"Uh, late. Later. Ten-ish." He'd be back in Bogotá before midnight, but there was the drive back to Buenaventura to consider. Even so, it was only mid-afternoon now. Javier rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. His brain was no longer in a state to be doing that kind of math and he sighed, the coffee he'd just had clearly not doing anything.

"You have at least an hour to get some sleep. Come lie down." She was out from in front of him and across the room before he could blink tiredly, already pushing back the coffee table and bending to pull out the couch. Javier meant to protest, he really did. But. Sleep beckoned. And so, with heavy feet dragging across the laminate floor, he acquiesced.

"Thanks." He mumbled, gratefully receiving a pillow.

"I'll wake you in an hour, hour and a half tops." She already sounded further away than she should be, considering she was by the sofa-bed's - and his - head still. Javier hummed a reply, more affirmative sound than any proper words. As he drifted off, he thought he felt gentle fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead. But surely that was just wishful thinking, for what else could it be? ---

So, six more months of looking busy and doing nothing while the Calí godfathers revved up operations to squeeze as much money as they could out. He'd had to send his agents home after they'd been splashed all over the front page of the Espectador, so not only did the DEA not currently have any presence on the ground in Calí, it also left Diana without even the faintest layer of protection. And with the massive stink the Colombians, fronted by General Vargas, had kicked up about it, he couldn't send in any replacements, no matter how eager or indeed fastidious Agent Feistl was. And now the incident in Yumbo. The youngest of the dead had only been six years old. Javier glowered at the TV report where the safety inspector was giving his final report. Natural gas leak... yeah, sure. This thing reeked; he felt it in his bones that the cartel was responsible somehow. And he couldn't go after them. The desire to go find Stechner and smash his stupid smug face through the screen became near unbearable. He turned the TV off before the urge manifested into action.

He sat down behind his desk, taking a moment to look around the largely dark and empty office space around him before opening that particular drawer on the top right and taking out the arrest warrants. Their money and power and the influence both bought meant that the Calí bosses could move comparatively freely, but they still hid away. Carefully so, with the kind of tight-knit security that most heads of state could only dream of. Even if he did find a way to get at them, his hands were now unofficially bound. Well over a year's work, two good agents sent home, his informant risking her life every single day, more innocent dead who would never get justice, and what for? He hated it. He still hadn't told her. He thought about quitting.

The phone rang. He knew it was her. She didn't even try his home landline first now, knowing he spent his evenings at the office more often than not. Javier let it ring once more while mustering up the courage to come clean.

"Miss Rivas, good evening."

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?"

Javier scrubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to look at the warrants spread out on his desk. There was only so much mockery a man could take. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"It was them. David specifically, that self-absorbed buffoon. They chewed him out for over half an hour over it, which is far less than he deserves."

"I figured." His throat felt tight; undoing another shirt button did precisely nothing.

"Gilberto worries it will give the government leverage to go back on the deal. I hope it does."

So did Javier, but knowing the special interests being at play here he didn't hold out much hope.

"And you have been made to recall your agents from Calí."

Javier gulped. "Yes."

"But they'll be replaced, right?"

Well, here goes nothing then. "...No."

Silence. She's not one to raise her voice even when upset and right now she must be livid. But perhaps she's shocked before anything else. Shocked into silence, into disbelief. He hates this, too. He wishes she would scream at him. Instead all he gets is a brittle quiet little '...What?'

And it's so unfair, all of it. Stechner doesn't have to face her with this, the bastard. None of the politicians who are oh so invested in this little vanity project do either, the consequences aren't real to them. They get to collect the empty symbol of a supposedly bloodless surrender, some good publicity, and don't have to do or face any of the ugly truths on the ground. He thinks about quitting again. Pats his pocket for the reporter's business card. If he's leaving, he thinks, he'd do it with a bang. Burn all bridges with a mighty barrage of his personal J'accuse. But for now that's all idle thinking.

"The surrender deal is going ahead as planned, because the powers that be will it so." He explained, truly understanding the sentiment of shooting the messenger at this very moment. "My hands are bound, there's nothing I can do."

"Bullshit!" Yeah, agreed. He tries saying more, justifications that turn to dust on his tongue before the words even leave his mouth. His heart's not in it, and it only serves to stoke her wrath, fearsome even over the distance of the phone line.

"What else will they get away with? If you're rich enough you can buy impunity? A blank cheque for murder? How many more people must die? Every day I go in and make myself complicit in it all on the promise that it will take them down!"

The worst part of this, perhaps, is that he knows she's right. If any of those senators in their cushy Washington offices had even a bit of her bravery, her steadfastness, her moral clarity–

"I'm sorry." His mouth is so dry. At last he opens his eyes again, glaring down at the warrants. Gilberto Rodríguez Orejuela. Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela.

"You're sorry?" Even now her voice is still level. Full of venomous disbelief and cold with rage, yes, but it has not risen even a single decibel.

"Miss Rivas, I-"

The line went dead with a click. She'd hung up.

--- --- ---

author’s notes:

*me, an idiot* this chapter will cover episodes 1 through to 4. this is a thing that is feasible and realistic

*me, 7000 words in and still at the party* ah. oh no.

in other words: remember last chapter when I cut things off because I wanted to keep it below 10k? yeah, that won’t be happening anymore. It takes as long as it takes. *shrug emoji* stay hydrated.

DIAN (Dirección de Impuestos y Aduanas Nacionales) is the Colombian government agency that is responsible for collecting taxes

Fernando Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor, famous for these really chunky bronze statues, though the one I reference here is a complete fabrication and does not actually exist

according to the Art and Making of Narcos book Navegante’s actual name is Jorge Velasquez

‘chompa’ according to the dictionary I used, is a term for jacket used in Colombia and some other places

yes I looked up average temperatures in all these cities. I have concluded that it gets hot af in Laredo

La Javeriana (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana) is one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Colombia. Presidential candidate Carlos Luis Galan did indeed attend there, as did president Ernesto Samper, who is president during the season in the show. He also did indeed teach there for a while in the early 80s, which fortunately matches up with my timeline. It was indeed founded before Harvard. Thirteen years before to be exact (1623 vs 1636)

here’s the drawing Diana made of Pallomari (contador=accountant):

tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @dindjarindiaries @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml @javier-djarin @huliabitch @heatherbel @shestillwrites1

didn’t ask to be tagged but reblogged all previous parts and therefore I assume you enjoyed it regardless of that you reading my story made me very happy list: @asoftcollection (thank you for indulging me and brainstorming the Jurados with me it helped a lot) @holographic-carmen @dermandalorianer @oldstuffnewstuff (sry it won’t let me tag ur sideblog hope this is okay)

Next Chapter

#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #multipart #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 4

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

Conversation

RP Meme from Oliver & Company

Now, it's always once upon a time in New York City.

It's a big old bad old tough old town.

Let me have one, please.

Right away, you're making time and making friends

If they pick you out, you're on your way.

Get out there and go and try.

Why does nightfall find you feelin' so alone?

Dreaming is still how the strong survive

Keep your dream alive.

Got to look out and open your eyes,

You're in the fast lane

What's the matter with you? I said get outta here.

I don't eat cats. It's too much fur.

I've been watching you, and I think you're in serious need of some professional guidance.

I'm an expert at these things.

All you gotta do is learn some moves.

This city's got a beat.

When are we gonna get those hot dogs?

I hate to break it to ya, but the dynamic duo is now the dynamic uno.

Our partnership is herewith dissolved.

You're not being fair!

Fairs are for tourists, kid.

Consider it a free lesson in street savoir faire

Hey, wait! I helped you get those! Half of those are mine!

Why should I worry? Why should I care?

I got street savoir faire

You can wear the crown!

Everything goes.

Everything fits.

They love me at the Chelsea, they adore me at the Ritz!

Stop that racket! I'm trying to watch this show.

Shut up, you little rodent.

Come on, let's watch some boxing. I wanna see some action

You think this place is big enough?

What we need is some good quality stuff

Oh, shredded leather.

You insulted my pride! That means death!

It was your turn to get the food today!

You remain our preeminent benefactor.

It was tough. Only I could have done it.

I love a story with food in it.

Enter the opposition.

Gang war! Gang war! Watch out! Here comes a gang war!

Take cover!

It's just a cat.

I followed this dog.

He's lying! He's lying! He's lying! He's lying!

Oh, boy! Dog pile!

Don't let me down!

What do you got?

Let's see what you got.

I was just on my way out.

Actually, I've got something much better than money.

Some luxury items that should make a considerable dent in my debt to you.

Oh, my! You waxed your car, didn't you? Did they use the buffer on it, because I can see myself.

I don't think you grasp the severity of the situation.

Now, I lent you money and I don't see it.

People like you get hurt.

I can't figure out why you'd rather hang around a dump like this when you could be living uptown with a class act like myself.

Isn't it rather dangerous to use one's entire vocabulary in a single sentence?

You bad, man.

Hey, you got something to say to me, fat boy?

Why don't you pick on someone your own size?

Oh, I'm having a bad day!

I like cats. I like to eat 'em.

Your master's calling.

Come on and say it to my face!

How am I ever gonna come up with all that money?

It's hopeless.

That took a lot of guts.

All right. Time for bed. We've got a big day tomorrow.

We've got two days to do or die.

You got a lot to learn. And if you don't learn, you don't eat!

But if you're tough, and always use your head, you'll be right at home, on the street.

When you got talent, everything is free.

You're gonna see how the best survive.

These are streets of gold.

You'll take the town, and you'll take it with style.

You're in charge of electronics.

Hey, but what about me? What do I do?

Ready? Go!

What have I done? Poor thing.

You oughta be ashamed of yourself!

Run along, little fellow. Go on, now. Shoo.

Be a lookout.

I only got one more wire, okay?

Oh, you poor kitty. Here. Let me help you.

Where's the kid?

We can't just take in a stray off the street.

Don't worry, kitty. I'll take care of you.

Your public awaits.

Girl, we've got work to do

Pass me the paint and glue.

Perfect isn't easy

When one knows the world is watching, one does what one must.

See how the breeding shows

Sometimes it's too much for even me!

But when all the world says "Yes", then, who am I to say "no"?

Don't ask a mutt to strut like a showgirl

Perfection becomes me, ne c'est pas?

I'm beauty unleashed!

So classic and classy

They're barking up the wrong tree!

I have your hearts, and you have my pity

Pretty is nice, but still it's just pretty!

I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

What is the meaning of this?

I guess I'll have to handle this myself.

And do you have any idea whose home this is?

Isn't he cute?

What in Heaven's name are we waiting for?

Alas, our beleaguered benefactor bearing the brunt of our futile endeavours.

Cool it!

Our mission begins at daybreak.

I don't hear any practicing.

Oh, you wanna practice too!

We two can be good company.

You and me, just wait and see.

I'll handle that ruffian.

Body slam! Body slam! Oh, come on, you fool! Hit him! Hit him!

Come back here!

Huh, this place looks pretty nice. I mean, how bad off could it be here?

Chagall. Matisse. These are all masterpieces.

Hey, man, if this is torture, chain me to the wall.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down.

Don't come any closer! I knew this would happen one day.

It's not you I'm after.

Not good enough for you?

I mean, do you even know who I am?

GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU LITTLE BUG-EYED CREEP!

Something's not quite right here.

Shh. Quick. Before he comes back. Follow me.

I mean, let's just forget the whole thing.

No, no, you can't do that! You don't understand. The poor dear's so traumatized.

What is going on here?

Hurry. Use the fire escape.

Ooh, I could've danced all night! I could've danced all night!

You were very good.

I was rather good, wasn't I?

You okay, kid?

I have another home now. And someone who loves me.

You're in the gang.

I just wanna go back.

You wanna leave? Fine! There's the door.

You lighten up!

Oh, it's hopeless.

Looks like you're doing all right for yourself

So that's where you've been!

Feel it. That's it. Very good.

This is an airtight plan

I'll even toss in a little extra for your patience.

It's my final offer. Take it or leave it.

I said, push!

No, you don't kill 'im yet.

Did we bring something green and wrinkly to make me happy?

I'm getting your money tonight! It's coming tonight!

Hey, I think there's hope for you yet.

Yeah, you're starting to think big.

It's creepy down here.

I drew a perfectly good map.

A child could read that map.

I didn't do it! I didn't do it! I was framed!

This is a tough neighborhood. You'd better go home.

I came to find my kitty.

You brought a piggy bank.

What kind of a person would steal a poor little kitty?

I'm so scared. I don't know what to do.

I found a little lost kitten.

No! No, wait! You can't do this!

Keep your mouth shut.

Stop! Stop! Time out!

There's gotta be some way in.

Peasants.

Well, it's nice to see that one of you has some manners.

After you, my little croissant

And remember, quiet.

Oh! I broke a nail.

Oh, balderdash.

Freeze!

I don't think you really appreciate the situation. Somebody could get hurt.

You smell that?

It's party time!

Where are those dogs?

I thought I'd never see you again.

What's the occasion? Come to rescue your little friend?

All right! What a woman!

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go

This has all been very entertaining. But the party is over.

Hey, man, you're ugly!

Aah! Save me!

Hey, get off my back, woman! I'm driving!

All right, anybody want some cake?

Murder him! Twist his arm!

The gifts were great.

We'll start with a bath.

You know, you're not so bad for a bug-eyed little creep.

You come back here this minute!

Tell me why should I care

What a delightful scoundrel.

#rp memes #rp meme #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #oliver and company

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aer-in-wanderland · 4 years ago

Photo

구미호뎐 | Tale of the Nine Tailed - Lost in Translation EP02

Back by, possibly not popular, but certainly very enthusiastic demand: my sister’s and my continued adventures in mistranslation and cultural subtext. You can find EP01 here. Buckle up and settle in for another monster post because, wow, a lot happened in this episode. Contains spoilers.

Prologue

We open with a sweeping view of Baekdudaegan as Yeon narrates about his past as the god who presided over it. For context, Baekdudaegan is the biggest and most famous mountain range in Korea, taking up an enormous swath of the Korean peninsula (to the extent that it’s often referred to as its ‘spine’ or ‘backbone’). So Yeon wasn’t lying when he said he was a ‘major’ mountain god. ;)

Yeon: You could say these were my Leeds Days. I was the master of Baekdudaegan, a mountain god who controlled the wind and rain,* and a gumiho who was, from the start, of a different caliber than the mongrel foxes you see in Hometown of Legends. ...Or, I was.”

[*Note: Can also be taken to mean ‘the natural elements’ in general.]

When Yeon refers to his ‘glory days,’ the term he uses is ‘Leeds Era’ (리즈시절). Originally a sporting term for the height of a footballer’s career, in Korean, the expression has come to be used to describe a person’s bygone glory days. The modern figure of speech (complete with English loan word) makes for a funny counterpoint to the Yeon we see on screen and recalls the mint-chocolate loving American TV show enthusiast we’ve known him as so far.

The other modern reference he makes is to Hometown of Legends (전설의 고향), which has been the title of numerous dramas and movies (1977-2018) centered around Korean myths and legends. This is basically the equivalent of an alien referencing the X-files. Overall, the narration serves to remind us just how modern our gumiho has become and clashes humorously with the visual onscreen.

Yeon’s above narration concludes with the first appearance of little Ah Eum, who immediately proceeds to pet the mighty master of Baekdudaegan as if he were her pet dog pfft (thus the ‘....or I was.’)

As an aside, tvN released some backstory information revealing that Ah Eum had gone to find Yeon in order to pray for rain. Which means she pet him in spite of that lol We also know from the past-life sequence in episode 10 that she had actually been warned never to venture anywhere near his mountain because a 1000 year old gumiho lived there. It’s almost as if her guardians don’t know her at all...

For anyone keeping track, Ah Eum uses banmal with Yeon from the very beginning. We find out why later. As a princess (even one who had been discarded), she’s used to outranking everyone around her and therefore speaking almost exclusively in banmal. To be fair, with her temperament, Yeon being a 1000+ year old mountain god probably just wasn’t enough to get him an automatic pass from her. Point for Ah Eum/Ji Ah character continuity.

Yeon: If I could rewrite* my past just once, I would return to this moment without hesitation. So that that child could never find me.

[*Note: Literally, ‘A/S my past,’ which I’m pretty sure has its roots in computer usage. So again, thoroughly modern vocabulary from the former master of Baekdudaegan.]

We transition from young to grown Ah Eum with a sweep of the Red Umbrella. According to tvN again, this umbrella was actually a gift from Ah Eum to Yeon, and it’s also the same umbrella Yeon still carries everywhere. It’s somewhat poetic, then, that it was this umbrella that lead Ji Ah to him. So, a meaningful item on multiple fronts.

Yeon: Some called it, ‘the scandal of the age that shook Baekdudaegan.’ To think, a mountain god who had given his heart to a human... Nowadays, it would have felt like a disciplinary hearing, but I didn’t care a whit. I liked her [presence] permeating my woods.

As you might have guessed, this love story ends in tragedy. Someone stole her life. Once she crossed the River of Three Crossings, I would never be able to see her again. I couldn’t hold on to her, but nor could I bear to let her go...so I resorted to abusing my power.

The BGM playing as Yeon narrates the ending of his tragic story is ‘The Parting at the River of Three Crossings,’ which I think of as the epic love theme of TotNT alongside ‘Sad Fate.’ Why do I keep mentioning the BGM? No reason, other than that it interests me. ;)

On a linguistic note, Yeon’s line, ‘Someone stole her life’ caught my attention from the first time I watched this due to his unusual usage of the word ‘life.’ Korean has multiple words for ‘life.’ The one that would typically be used in this context is ‘moksoom’ (목숨), which I think of as having the nuance of one’s life force. So to steal one’s ‘moksoom’ would mean to kill them. Instead, he uses ‘insaeng’ (인생), which is more like the life one leads. To steal someone’s ‘insaeng’ sounds more like a case of identity theft. As we find out later, that actually is what Imoogi did, and this hinted at that linguistically.

I’m not sure how well this translated, but the gesture of Yeon kneeling is both epic and heartbreaking. Kneeling is a very weighty gesture in Korea, so for Yeon to use his godly powers to freeze the very River to the Afterlife only to kneel and beg for one last moment with Ah Eum is just... It’s a momentous enough gesture for Taluipa, the ultimate stickler for rules, to make an exception and grant his request.

The fox bead: In Japanese lore, a fox’s bead is often akin to its life force, but that’s clearly not the case for Yeon. In Korean lore, fox beads are sometimes called ‘the treasure of a fox’s lips,’ since the bead is supposedly located within the fox’s mouth (and can thus be stolen/gifted with a kiss). Some tellings claim that someone who swallows a fox’s bead gains understanding of all things and phenomena in the universe, while others say they grant the bearer’s wishes.

Yeon continues his narration, describing how he’s encountered women with Ah Eum’s face over the centuries, but that none of them were her. For anyone interested, you can find my hot take on that here.

Okay, can we please have a spin-off of Yeon hunting down folklore monsters in Japanese-occupied Korea Gaksital (2012)-style?

Fun fact: Based on some of the still cuts they released, there was actually a deleted scene in which Yeon pulled the late-Joseon era Ah Eum look-alike aside, checked her for the fox bead, and then erased her memories. (And by ‘fun’ I mean, ‘why would you delete that??’)

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Iconic.

Fun fact: Lee Dong Wook picked this as the most memorable line of the drama due to it’s thematic echoing across multiple episodes.

On the topic of the tranquilizer, there was a deleted scene in episode 1 in which Ji Ah very openly 'borrowed’ it from Shin Joo’s vet clinic because she already suspected Yeon was a fox: fox fur, Fox Ridge... She was taking a pretty big gamble though since he’s not exactly your average fox.

It’s worth noting that Ji Ah doesn’t say she was ‘looking’ for Yeon (although she was, because she’s a go-get-‘em kind of girl); she says she was ‘waiting’ for him. I took this to mean she was waiting for him to return and make good on his threat to kill her (since, not only had she not forgotten, she’d been actively sticking her nose into anything remotely supernatural or unexplainable), at which point, presumably, she planned to turn the tables on him.

Episode 02 Title Card: I’ve Been Waiting for You

For anyone wondering how Ji Ah managed to get Yeon back up to his penthouse, apparently she told the security desk her boyfriend was drunk and boldly took him back up in the elevator (presumably with help) haha

Possibly coincidentally, Yeon’s first line to Ji Ah when he regains consciousness is the same as his first line to little Ah Eum: ‘Do you want to die?’ (minus the sageuk speak)

Ji Ah’s line, “I wouldn’t be sipping tea here if I was worried about that,” would more literally be: “If I valued my life, would I be sitting here drinking flower tea?”

Lol Ji Ah. “Want a cup?” is such a classy power play.

Sub: “After the stunt you pulled, you’re actually offering me tea?” Ha. Also, what Yeon literally says is: “You pulled that variety-esque stunt, and your next line is what? ‘A cup of tea’?” ‘Variety’ here is an English loan word meant in the sense of ‘variety shows’ (ex. Running Man or 1 Night 2 Days), though to my knowledge, no one has ever been tranquilized on one.

The following exchange was littered with enough small things I would have changed that I’ll just translate the whole thing here for reference:

Ji Ah: When a man and a woman have that level of physical contact, don’t they usually also drink tea or eat meals together, too? These days, the whole pure and noble act doesn’t go far.

Yeon: Whether it does or not, when you’re at a disadvantage, isn’t it considered common courtesy to come [to the table] having put aside either your pride or your self-esteem [i.e. at least one of the two]?

Ji Ah: Listen until the end before you determine who’s at a disadvantage.

Yeon: (Nodding) In exchange, if my thinking still doesn’t change, you’ll pay the price for having tested me.

Ji Ah: Price?

Yeon: Your sight (literally ‘eyes’). I’ll be taking your eyes that have seen what they shouldn’t have.

Ji Ah: Deal. (literally, ‘call’ as in poker)

Rang & Yoo Ri Crash a Funeral

In the off chance you were wondering why this is basically the only time we see Rang driving Yoo Ri and not the other way around, it’s because Yoo Ri is ‘in character’ as the daughter of a major conglomerate and wouldn’t be expected to drive herself if there was another person in the car. In Korea, there’s a whole code of etiquette around who sits where in the car.

Instead of ‘Lee Rang-nim’ the subs have Yoo Ri addressing Rang as ‘sir.’ That just strikes me as so distant and cold...

To my thinking, this scene was peak ‘Hoket-dan.’ It was nearly the same level of over-the-top campy as some of the old supervillains. If I’m being perfectly honest, I was worried at this point that Rang’s character would turn out to be equally 2D. Joke’s on me though, ‘cause this later became a hilarious character quirk when Sajang says to Rang, “It can’t be that you came to enjoy watching me die?” and Rang responds, “I love doing that! Look, I even brought popcorn. I even go about visiting funeral homes and stuff on purpose.” lol

Ji Ah’s Gamble

Okay, but Yeon actually took her up on tea haha I love it.

Subs: “So you’re a fox that’s pretending to be human.” The word they use here (and throughout the drama) is ‘doongap’ (둔갑), which is literally ‘to assume the form of.’ Unfortunately, there’s no verb in English that neatly conveys that, so this gets subbed a lot of ways. I’ve mostly been translating it as ‘transform,’ but that’s more properly ‘byeonshin’ (변신). Sometimes with translation, the best option still isn’t great.

It’s also worth noting that this is actually not what Yeon is doing here, since he sees those sorts of tricks as beneath him. Yeon is a cheon’ho; his human form is his own.

Sub: “What a lame reaction. A normal human being would scream...” More literally: “What kind of reaction is so lacking in sincerity? Generally, if [you’re] a human, I should at least get a scream...” Again, both ‘reaction’ and ‘scream’ are in English, and, somewhat humorously, Yeon uses the verb + juda (주다) form, implying he was hoping to elicit a scream with his reveal pfft

Sub: “No. I knew something like you would exist somewhere out in this world. I started directing a TV show about urban legends so I could catch you myself.” This is mostly fine, but what she says more literally is: “No. I knew something like you would exist somewhere in this world. In order to catch [one] myself, I buried my bones in a TV show about urban legends.” To ‘bury ones bones’ means ‘to devote oneself entirely to’ and implies more drive and dedication than in the sub. The subject is once again omitted, so she could mean Yeon, but I think she actually means ‘things like Yeon’ more generally.

Yeon’s line to Ji Ah when she asks him about their long ago encounter was subbed as: “I followed the smell of blood, and I ended up saving a little kid. But I can see that she’s very ungrateful.” I would translate this as:

Yeon: I smelled blood and followed it, and ended up saving some little girl (lit. young child), but now I see that that child is trying to repay a favor with enmity.

The expression Yeon uses here, to ‘repay a favor (eunhye) with enmity (wonsoo),’ is a common turn of phrase. It’s the Korean equivalent of ‘biting the hand that feeds you,’ or ‘repaying good with ill.’ Considering eunhye has actual consequences for Yeon, he doesn’t seem all that put out.

Lol Something about Lee Dong Wook’s delivery of Yeon’s line, “So you lost your parents...” reminds me of the Oscar Wilde quote: ‘To lose one parent may be regarded as misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.’

Sub: “I’m not threatening you. I’m taking my chances.” This should be: “You’re mistaken. I’m not threatening; I’m gambling.” This turn of phrase is rather clever in Korean since ‘threat’ (협박) and ‘gamble’ (도박) are only one syllable off. In terms of the subs, while ‘gambling’ and ‘taking my chances’ are similar on the surface, they’re different enough in nuance that I would consider this a mistranslation. ‘Gambling’ implies an informed, calculated risk, whereas ‘taking my chances’ gives the impression of improvisation and leaving everything up to luck.

The Funeral Parlour

This scene is Rang in a nutshell. I actually don’t have much to comment on linguistically, but it was definitely an important scene for establishing Rang’s MO and motivations.

Shin Joo & Yeon

Yeon and Shin Joo meet up at the ice cream parlour to debrief on the situation with Ji Ah, and it’s cute how Shin Joo is more indignant over what went down than Yeon.

Subs: “It’s like we exist to repay people for their kindness.” This has been grossly paraphrased due to lack of cultural context. His line is literally:

Shin Joo: It’s not as if we’re magpies meticulously repaying our eunhye! Geez, how long do we have to be bound by that sort of premodern contractual relationship?”

This is another Korean folktale reference, this time to the story of The Grateful Magpies. I elaborated on it a bit here.

Yeon: “It’s old-fashioned but romantic. And it's also a fox’s dignity.” ‘Romantic’ here is the French loan word ‘romang’ (로망). In contrast to the English ‘romantic’ (which is also used), ‘romang’ is used to refer to ‘anything marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized.’ ‘Dignity’ could also be translated as ‘grace of character.’ Yeon’s preoccupation with style/swagger/dignity is enough of a recurring theme (and occasional joke) that it features in his character profile.

For anyone keeping track, Shin Joo refers to Ah Eum as ‘Ah Eum agasshi.’ ‘Agasshi’ meaning ‘miss’ or ‘lady.’

Shin Joo’s line is subbed, “Does she bother you?” but it should be: ‘Does it bother you?’ where ‘it’ refers to the fact that Ji Ah so closely resembles Ah Eum.

Sub: “I’ve seen tons of people who looked like her for hundreds of years.” It’s actually not ‘tons of people,’ but ‘a couple’/‘several’ over the course of hundreds of years. Let’s be honest, people as pretty as Jo Bo Ah just aren’t born every day. ;)

Yeon’s line may be overly blunt, but it’s sweet that he calls Shin Joo, ‘Shin Joo-ya.’

Back over to Ji Ah. The way this scene suddenly switches from sentimental to horrifying is great. I also like that it’s unclear when she fell asleep. The boundary between reality and unreality is as blurred for the viewers as it is for Ji Ah, and it leaves us with a similar sense of disquiet.

In case it wasn’t already clear, it’s the tooth on this skull that leads Ji Ah to Eohwa Island. She sees a skull with an identical tooth in the news and goes to investigate.

Afterlife Immigration Office

LOL Hyeonuiong briefing the newly departed on death via powerpoint is hilarious. The powerpoint reads: ‘A Guide to Hell for the Dead, Presenter: Hyeonuiong.’ The red sigil on the right bears the characters ‘十王’ (the Ten Kings), so I guess this is an official, Afterlife-approved slideshow. heh

Side note: I’m impressed with the way this show seamlessly shifts between genres. We went from emotional to creepy to funny without it feeling forced or jarring (or at least, it didn’t to me).

The powerpoint (complete with webtoon) continues cheerily: “Hell! What is the Afterlife?” / “The 10 Types of Hell.” pfft Who made these slides? Whoever they are, point to them.

Subs: “You know King Hades, right?” WOW This is bordering on cultural whitewashing if you ask me. This should be King Yeomra (aka King Enma). He’s one of the Ten Kings of the Afterlife, and quite arguably the most famous.

The sub here says Taluipa is Yeomra’s older sister, which is understandable since the antiquated word Hyeonuiong uses (누이), doesn’t specify older or younger. We find out in the final episode, though, that Taluipa is actually Yeomra’s younger sister. As far as I’m aware, this is not part of the original lore.

Lol Yeon being a drama king: “I’m going to take revenge! Thanks to her, my obligatory military service has already gone on for 600 years~!” (You’re not fooling anyone, sir)

“No way! A man’s hair is his life! My red-brown...” Fun fact: It was actually Lee Dong Wook’s idea to make Yeon’s hair red-brown, both as a nod to him being a fox, and to give him a more otherworldly look.

Why do the gods keep saying reincarnation is random when everyone we see reincarnated kept their face??

‘Oh my god” lol Watching kdrama characters react in English never gets old. Possibly because there’s something exaggerated or overdramatic in the conscious decision to use English instead of Korean.

A++ response from Yeon. I saw something going around to the effect of, ‘this show really just said love is love,’ and I love that. Point to the writer.

The BGM here is once again ‘Thread Rings.’ Given where it keeps being used, I’m fairly certain they’re somehow related to Ji Ah/Ah Eum... (So I guess there actually is a reason I’m paying attention to the BGM ;p). Lee Dong Wook just disclosed the behind the scenes scoop on the rings in his latest VLIVE.

This bulgasari is such a mild-mannered person. Like Shin Joo, he calls Ji Ah ‘PD-nim’ and speaks politely and deferentially.

Not for anything, but I really liked Jo Bo Ah’s delivery of Ji Ah’s line, ‘I saw a corpse.’ Her little mannerisms really sold Ji Ah to me as a person and not just a character.

Bulgasari: “That dream, can you sell it to me? I want to play the lottery.” In addition to the concept of symbolism in dreams, Koreans also have a common notion that dreams can be bought and sold. It’s funny, though, when you consider he’s probably just planning to eat the dream.

I love whenever Taluipa calls Yeon, ‘Yeon-ah.’ She’s normally so prickly that it’s notable when she's affectionate. Also, seeing as Yeon is older than 95% of our characters, there aren’t many who might address him like this with the affectionate diminutive.

Heh, Yeon refers to Ji Ah’s favor as a ‘civil complaint.’

When Yeon asks Ji Ah for her parent’s times and dates of birth, what he’s actually asking for is their ‘saju’ (literally, ‘four pillars’). You can find my explanation here.

The Snail Bride

Bok Hye Ja: “It’s the first time he’s brought someone (literally ‘a person’).” Normally this would mean, ‘it’s the first time he’s brought a guest,’ but in this case, I’m fairly certain she means, ‘it’s the first time he’s brought a human.’ ;)

“I won’t ask you to understand.” This was another exchange that made me love Ji Ah. I found her frank and sincere apology refreshing.

On a personal note, I loved watching Yeon recalibrate his estimation of Ji Ah in this scene. And it was also a scene in which viewers got to recalibrate their impressions of Yeon. Yeon is feigning indifference, but he makes a point of asking after Ji Ah’s feelings, which is not insignificant. It’s also in sharp contrast to what we’ve seen of Rang so far.

Oh my gosh, THAT PUFFBALL DOG (and it’s name is Bean-ie) XD

Minor detail, but where did Shin Joo get his necklace? Wait. OH MY GOD. Shin Joo is the Aquaman of TotNT. Yeon gets to be Batman and Superman rolled into one and Shin Joo’s power is that he ‘talks to fish animals.’ Dead.

Lol Ji Ah watching Yeon eat. I feel like this is a running joke. In the tales, gumiho notoriously eat people’s livers, so seeing him eat normal food must be a bit eye-opening.

The text description for Shin Don was left untranslated in the version we’re watching but it reads: In A History of Goryeo, there’s record of Shin Don, a monk from the time of King Gongmin’s reign (1351-1374 C.E.), having been an old fox.

Subs: “Is it true that the monk of Goryeo Dynasty was a fox?” Us: ‘Yes, the one monk in all of Goryeo and for all of Goryeo. Guess he’d have to have been a fox in that case.’ This should probably have been translated as: "So then, Shin Don...is it a fact that the Goryeo monk Shin Don was a fox?”

Ji Ah: “Oh my god.” heh

Do You Really Want to See It?

Wait, they walked all the way from Insadong to Digital Media City? Okay, this is one of the (few) pitfalls of being fairly familiar with Seoul. Sometimes it’s really obvious when two locations don’t connect and then it pulls me out of the drama. I think we’re supposed to believe that the Snail Bride is in the vicinity of Ji Ah’s broadcast station, seeing as her team are lunchtime regulars, but the the two neighborhoods are nowhere near each other.

Yeon’s line in the subs here is: “A. I’m a busy man. B. We may currently be living in the same world, but there is a big difference between where we come from.” Personally, I would have translated this as: “Firstly, I haven’t got that much free time. Secondly, we may be unavoidably living mingled together, but the world I belong to and the world you belong to are incontrovertibly different.”

Subs: “Those who got a peek at my world ended up going crazy or dying young.” More literally: “In the past, there have been those who got a glimpse of the world’s secrets. Well, most of them either went mad or had their lives cut short.”

Minor detail, but Ji Ah’s response subbed as: “I don’t care. I’ll stay out of your way. Just don’t disappear.” should more literally be: “Just don’t disappear from my sight (lit. ‘from before me’).”

The sub on Ji Ah’s line here reads: “She (Sae Rom) and I both had nightmares.” What she actually says is: “Me and my hubae also had nightmares,” meaning that she (Ji Ah) and Jae Hwan had nightmares in addition to Sae Rom. Which is why Yeon refers to them as ‘contagious’.

Okay, is it just me, or does LDW look exceptionally unreal in this scene?

Bulgasari

I’m not familiar with the actor who plays the bulgasari (pretty sure he’s a new face), but he did a great job making his movements uncanny here. The firey CG effects are fun too.

Heck yeah! Yeon sure knows how to make an entrance. Seeing as how he instructed Ji Ah on what to do, I’m pretty sure he was there the whole time......show-off.

Once again, I’m digging the fight scene underscored by ‘The Uninvited.’ I would happily watch an entire series that’s just Yeon and Ji Ah solving supernatural cases and hunting down baddies who disturb the peace.

The Smirk™ XD I’m 90% sure this was another LDW ad lib.

Lol Yeon. Subs: “Really? Then am I the jerk here?” More literally: “Really? Then I guess I’m the only bad guy, huh?”

On a linguistic note, the bulgasari speaks to Yeon in old-timey speech, once again playing up their mutual identity as creatures of lore.

It’s only at this point that, prompted by Ji Ah, Yeon finally reveals the bulgasari’s identity. This is accompanied by a brief chyron telling us that they appear when the world is in disorder, and Ji Ah supplies that they eat nightmares.

To elaborate a bit, bulgasari are one of the better known Korean creatures of lore. There are two different sets of hanja for them: (bulgasari 不可殺伊 ‘can-not-kill’) and (bulgasari 火可殺伊 ‘fire-can-kill’), which explains why, depending on the telling, they’re either un-killable or only die by fire. In traditional lore, feeding them metal makes them grow larger and stronger, which, while not the case in TotNT, is probably what inspired the coin-gobbling.

Subs: “Yes they are especially fond of broadcasting studios, which are packed with people. Eating metal reveals their true identities.” That subtitle went a bit sideways. It’s not that they like broadcast stations in particular, but crowded places like broadcast stations. So it should read: “They like places with lots of people, like the broadcast station, and if you feed them metal, they reveal their true colors.”

Okay, Yeon’s line that’s subtitled as, “The hostage will answer,” is more literally: “Hey, hostage. Try answering me.” It’s worth noting that, while he calls her ‘injil-bun’ (injil = hostage + bun = the polite word for a person), he’s still speaking to her in banmal, so he’s once again being cheeky.

It’s taking some license, but I would translate Yeon’s question to Ji Ah here as: “In this moment,* what exactly can you do other than rely on me to save you?” which is essentially what he means. [*Note: literally, ‘at this timing,’ and once again, ‘timing’ is in English.]

We get a series of short scenes lining up some of the side characters who will become our key players on the island: the fisherman find the severed head, Ji Ah grills Detective Baek about the case, and Rang approaches Pyung Hee with his usual devil’s bargain pitch. I didn’t really notice anything here that I think is important enough to the central plot or characters that it’s worth commenting on (especially given how massively long this post is already), so I’m just going to call it good and move right along. ;)

Pfft I definitely wasn’t expecting the bulgasari to be literally chilling in Yeon’s freezer (not that he had a choice). This is somewhat interesting given they’re typically thought to be weak to fire, not ice.

Subs: “I’ll die even if I tell you where he is.” More literally: “Whether I die in this way [by Yeon’s hand], or that [by Rang’s], it is all the same.”

Brother Complex

Sub: “Don’t even think of hurting her.” More literally: “Just try touching one hair on her head.”

Oh my gosh Rang’s face ㅠㅠ This was the first time I felt Kim Beom really got to display his acting chops in this role, and boy, was I glad to see it. This was also when I knew Rang was going to make me cry.

Yeon: “You’re acting like this because you lack affection.” The expression Yeon uses is ‘aejeong gyeolpip,’ which literally does mean ‘affection lack/want/absence,’ but I would have translated it as ‘affection-starved,’ since saying Rang ‘lacks affection’ could also be interpreted to mean Rang is incapable of expressing affection.

Yeon: “Why’s that?” Lol Lee Dong Wook. Also, this one line is cheekily in polite speech.

Subs: “Just because of a woman you gave up your position as a mountain spirit, left the mountain, and you even...” More literally: “Just because of one mere human woman you gave up your position as a mountain god, turned your back on the mountain, and..!!”

Yeon: “Yes, I know. I even abandoned you.” Rang-ah~ ㅠㅠ I recently received an ask as to whether or not I believed Yeon had truly abandoned Rang, which I answered here.

Oof, Yeon giving Rang advice as an older brother. In Korea, nagging is seen as a sign of affection. You may recall Ji Ah was very excited for her dad to nag her about her boyfriend in episode 12.

Sub: “You crazy fool.” Rang literally calls his brother a ‘michin nom,’ ‘michin’ meaning ‘crazy.’ ‘Nom’ is a pronoun that, depending on how it’s used, can mean anything from ‘guy,’ to ‘jerk,’ to ‘bastard.’

Sub: “I don’t need to know.” Actually: “There’s no need [for you to tell me].” The two are subtly different. Yeon’s saying he’ll find out on his own, not that he doesn’t want to know.

Fun fact: Kim Beom said in his script reading interview (before they started filming) that he was a bit worried about his onscreen dynamic with Lee Dong Wook because, while Rang has to hate Yeon, LDW is a hyung that KB likes so much in real life. What a cutie.

We cut briefly over to Ji Ah on the phone with Jae Hwan, asking him to look after Sae Rom while she chases down the skull lead.

As an aside here, Ji Ah calls Sae Rom, ‘Kim-jak’ (short for ‘jakga,’ meaning ‘writer’). In Korea, it’s common to refer to someone by their role or title. This might indicate distance, but Ji Ah’s shortening it makes the term familiar and speaks of their camaraderie. In the subtitles, this has become, ‘Ms. Kim,’ which is oddly distant given their frenemyship.

The Island

Is it just me, or does it feel like there should have been a scene here explaining how and why Yeon came to be on the boat? I’m assuming it got deleted due to time constraints, but I feel like it was needed.

Pfft The way Ji Ah pops up from behind Yeon, cutting comically into the dramatic shot of Lee Dong Wook’s windswept profile + BGM was great.

In case it wasn’t already apparent, Kimite patches are used to alleviate sea sickness, so this is further undermining the mood of a second ago haha

Yeon’s line is subbed: “I’d like to keep it to myself,” but this should more literally be: ‘Let’s each work individually/play it solo.’

Sub: “No, thank you.” What Yeon actually says: “Hard pass.” hahaha (Literally: ‘I’ll immediately/urgently decline,’ but tonally, ‘hard pass’ is closer).

The subs have Yeon’s line as: “You need to be careful what you pay attention to.” I would have translated this as: “If that’s the reason [you’ve come], go back. You mustn’t recklessly lend an ear [to such things].” His tone and phrasing are both surprisingly gentle.

Subs: “My guts keep telling me, that this is a very suspicious combination.” Well, my guts keep telling me, that this is a very suspicious sub haha I would have translated Yeon’s voiceover as:

Yeon: The same boat...the same island...a woman with the same face as that girl. My instincts speak to me relentlessly, telling me there’s something amiss about this combination.

Pfft The contrast between Ji Ah's dismount from the boat and Yeon’s.

Lol Yeon’s ‘excuse me’ was totally rude

For the record, from the moment Yeon sets foot on the island, he speaks to everyone in banmal. That’s bad form towards any stranger, but it’s especially rude considering their age. Sure, Yeon’s way older, but they don’t know that.

Ji Ah mouthing “What?” in English haha

Yeon clocking the effectively creepy villagers. Turns out the right BGM and camerawork can make anything creepy. Point to the director.

Settling in on the Island

Ji Ah’s line subbed as, “I thought you didn’t want to be involved,” should more properly be: “I thought you just said we should each play it solo?”

Yeon’s line is similarly mis-subbed as: “I changed my mind. Don’t let it bother you.” What he actually says is much ruder: “I’ll do what I want! Butt out.” Which explains Ji Ah’s affront heh

Lol Yeon walking right in front of the camera. Anyone who has ever had a pet recognized this moment.

I love how Yeon is being completely tactless and insensitive but then grudgingly course-corrects when Ji Ah glares daggers at him.

Fisherman (subs): “It gives me a bad feeling in my mouth.” Excuse me, what? haha The line is: “The more I think about it, the more it bothers me.”

Lol Ji Ah: “In the documentaries I watched, they say digging holes is your speciality” (complete with digging gesture).

Fun fact: Ji Ah blocking the way with her leg and Yeon burrowing under it was something Jo Bo Ah and Lee Dong Wook came up with themselves. Ji Ah’s line was scripted, but I’m nearly positive Yeon’s comeback of, “Burrowing is my speciality,” was an ad lib by Lee Dong Wook. Once again, casting Lee Dong Wook is the gift that keeps on giving.

WAIT. Subs: “You can’t go.” / “Borrowing is my specialty.” Hahaha What even? Cheon’ho Lee Yeon: professional mooch.

The way we then cut to Yeon ‘burrowing’ into a freezer of ice cream is just perfect. Point to the director.

Once again, Yeon is talking to all the village elders in banmal.

“You have a terrible service mentality.” pfft

OH. Ji Ah’s response to the misogynistic fisherman is just A++

Her line here is literally: “Oops, I’m afraid I’m overflowing with ‘jeong.’” ‘Jeong’ (情) can be a little hard to translate. It literally means ‘emotion’ or ‘affection,’ but the way it’s used linguistically can be a bit complex. The sub here was: “I’m afraid I was too generous,” which I actually think is pretty decent. The turn of phrase in Korean though, using the word ‘overflowing’ while over-pouring on the man, made her response doubly witty.

Hah. I love the way Yeon just raises his eyebrows when he comes out of the market and spots her.

Subs: “How dare a witch from outside come here and...” He actually calls her a ‘michin nyeon’ meaning ‘crazy bitch,’ so the line is: “Crazy bitch, where do you think this is that you dare...”

Ji Ah’s line that begins, “If you’re going to hit me...” is just SO great. We stan (1) queen.

Subs: “Nice. You’re tough.” This is a bit hard to translate. Yeon’s line is literally: “Oh~ What ggang is like this?” ‘Ggang’ can be translated as ‘guts,’ ‘tenacity,’ or ‘persistence.’ Naver dictionary describes it as: ‘a personal trait found in one who never gives in, when put in whatever difficulties,’ which is so spot on for Ji Ah. I might approximate this as: “Woah~ Just how gutsy are you?”

The way he's just like, ‘I approve. Here, have a shikhye~’ is mildly adorable. Did you buy that for her, Yeon, or were you planning on having two but decided she’d earned one? haha

Ji Ah’s response is equally great. The sub says: “That was nothing.” which isn’t a bad option for a subtitle, but what she literally says is ‘saesam-seureopge’ (새삼스럽게), where ‘saesam’ means ‘now? at this point? after all this time?’ So she’s basically saying, ‘You’re bothering with that observation, over that little stunt, after everything else you’ve seen me do?’ haha

“I plan to mooch off of you as much as possible.” Pfft I love how Yeon actually moves to stand behind her just to underscore the point. That’ll be Lee Dong Wook again.

Wow, these are some sketchy old people.

Subs: “People aren’t the only ones with eyes and mouths.” What he actually says is, “Are people the only ones with eyes and ears?”

The Forest Spirit

Wow, the lighting in this scene is just A++ Point to the lighting team (or is that just natural? It feels almost too pretty to have just been natural).

I was too distracted by Lee Dong Wook to notice the first time, but Ji Ah’s face when Yeon shushes her is great haha

On a linguistic note, this scene is one of the few in which Yeon code switches to archaic speech as he’s addressing the tree spirit. It’s the linguistic equivalent of him putting on his ‘mountain god’ hat. (He still speaks to Ji Ah normally, though).

We cut briefly to the mudang (shamaness), and I’m sorry, I know this is a traditional way of speaking, but it always makes me laugh because it’s so over-the-top.

The spirit addresses Ji Ah as ‘agasshi,’ which would be strange if she was actually a modern young girl, but makes sense for a spirit who’s at least 600. Overall, it helps to remind viewers of her supernatural-ness.

Yeon telling Ji Ah she did a good job is so cute. I feel like they’re rapidly becoming a quirky tag-team duo and I’m 100% here for it.

Mudang: “His body returned to shore before his head did! Your father!” This line was explained in the backstory collection.

Okay, the mudang needs to dial it back like 10 levels here.

Possibly just me, but Yeon swatting the air with his hand as he peers into the cave struck me as vaguely fox-like.

Minor detail again, but the chyron here is subbed as ‘Jangsansa Cave.’ It’s actually ‘Jangsan sagool,’ not ‘Jangsansa gool.’ ‘Sagool’ is written with the characters 蛇窟 meaning ‘snake hole.’

Lol Yeon freezing mid-motion when Ji Ah tells him to stay put. That is 110% Lee Dong Wook’s sense of humour. Praise the drama gods for Lee Dong Wook - this show wouldn’t have been half as fun without him.

Fun fact: This cave is actually intimately tied to Ah Eum’s past with Imoogi and the story of how she came to be his ‘bride’ (read: sacrifice). I translated the tvN description here. I actually think this was fairly important information, so it’s a shame it wasn’t covered in the drama.

Sleepover with a Gumiho

When Ji Ah asks Yeon why he’s insisting on staying at Pyung Hee’s, his response is subbed as: “I have my reasons.” This is more properly: “You don’t need to know.”

Sub: “We don’t eat that crap!” Yeon’s line doesn’t have a subject, but this should properly be: “I don’t eat that crap!” We know from Yeou Nui that some gumiho in this world actually do eat liver.

“Heard of the Chinese liver fluke?” Ha. Yeon literally says ‘kan distoma,’ i.e. ‘liver distomiasis’ or ‘liver fluke’. While there was a well-known outbreak in China, it isn’t inherently Chinese. There’s a Korean word for it too (간흡충), but once again, Yeon opts for the loan word, adding further humour to the gumiho disavowing liver consumption - for health reasons, no less pffft

The BGM playing as Yeon sees Ah Eum in Ji Ah is once again ‘Parting at the River of Three Crossings.’

Bok Hye Ja’s line to Shin Joo is subbed as: “He went to the island to find this reincarnated girl?” The word she uses is actually ‘gakshi,’ which is an antiquated word generally meaning ‘bride’ (as in ‘the Snail Bride’), but it can also just mean ‘young woman.’

For the record, the Snail Bride speaks to Shin Joo in banmal, who speaks to her in jondaetmal

Shin Joo: “Contrary to how he looks, he’s the devoted type, after all.” Et tu, Shin Joo?

Shin Joo’s line is subbed: “As if that’s a good thing,” but I would have translated it as: “Romantic, my foot!”

Sub: “At least once in our lives we come across that one person we want to give our lives to.” This should be: ‘risk our lives for.’

Sub: “I won’t ever devote myself to love. My goal will be to protect Mr. Lee.” Actually: “I won’t ever risk my life for love. I’m going to protect Lee Yeon-nim!”

“Well that can also be called love, can’t it?” Thank you for this, Show. I know some people think TotNT champions romantic love above all else, but I simply don’t agree.

When Yeon checks Ji Ah again for his fox bead, the BGM playing is once again ‘Thread Rings’

I love how they did the CG on whatever is happening with Yeon’s powers here. I would have loved to have gotten more of an explanation of the fox bead and its powers (and Yeon’s, for that matter), but alas.

I love that Yeon tucks Ji Ah in even after re-confirming (or so he thinks) that she isn’t Ah Eum. It was important to me that he came to like and appreciate her for herself before learning that she was, in fact, his lost love.

Morning on the Island

Ji Ah wakes to find Yeon gone, the blanket tucked around her, and her expression tells us she’s onto him: sure, Yeon can be a grump, but he’s also a complete softie. heh

Yeon is, once again, talking to the elders in banmal. Why do I keep mentioning it? Because no matter how many times I see it it’s still funny.

Okay, Lee Dong Wook has this way of pointing at things with his entire arm that I find ticklish. Yeon ends up coming across like a petulant child. On a cultural note, in Korea, pointing at people like this is considered impolite.

Yeon dangling the ginseng behind Ji Ah as extra incentive pfft Wild ginseng can be massively expensive in Korea (on the order of hundreds of dollars), so this is actually a very effective bribe.

Also, can we take a moment to appreciate that Yeon woke up before dawn, and, instead of going back to sleep, went into the mountains to hunt for wild ginseng, then set about using it to bribe the elders into answering Ji Ah’s questions for her. Entirely of his own accord. Like I said: softie.

Side note: Lee Dong Wook’s eyebrows are working overtime in this scene and I’m honestly a little jealous.

The newspaper Jae Hwan finds at the library is dated August 13, 1954, which Ji Ah immediately recognizes as having been just after the Korean War (if you’ll recall, this is when the forest spirit told them something ominous had come to the island).

This newspaper is actually really cool. You can see how, in the past, Korean newspapers used a lot of hanja in addition to the phonetic hangeul, similar to modern Japanese. The headline reads, “Headless Corpse, Discovered on Eohwa Island, Investigation Hits Dead End.” (頭 없는 屍身, 漁花島에서 發見, 捜査迷宮으로).

Okay, to be honest, this final scene - absent the extra context given in the next episode - made me question Ji Ah’s smarts again. I wondered why she was chasing down the clearly unstable guy just to question him, but it makes sense once you know she meant to warn him his life was in danger.

As usual, Yeon knows how to make an entrance. Cue ‘Gumiho’ theme.

Yeon stopping when Ji Ah tells him to never stops being satisfying.

The BGM playing as we cut over to Rang is ‘The House of Ghosts.’

Okay, those shots of Thirsty and Hungry were full-on horror movie and I actually kind of like it? I never watch horror as a genre, but for some reason, I found I missed this spooky element when it dropped out of the later episodes.

Oh, I like that Yeon went and made her a poultice. Very ex-mountain god of you, sir.

“Long time no see, Lee Yeon.” Iconic. And creepy. I love the attention to detail Jo Bo Ah displays in the difference between how she acts Ji Ah vs. Imoogi. Imoogi’s voice is higher pitched, and gives off more of a loose-cannon feel compared to Ji Ah, who speaks in a lower, more grounded tone.

Sub: “It’s me. The person you’ve been waiting for.” Imoogi literally says: “It’s me. That thing you’ve been waiting for.” This is obviously a big clue since normally one wouldn’t refer to oneself in such a way. It also reflects the fact that, unlike Terry-Imoogi, Jimoogi perceives no value in Ji Ah herself. (Yes, I call Ji Ah-Imoogi ‘Jimoogi,’ and sadly, no, I didn’t come up with it).

Yikes, Jimoogi tracing Yeon’s face was all menace and zero cute. Point to Jo Bo Ah.

Boy, this show really knows how to make an exit.

Blue Mooooooooon!! The guitar (bass?) riff is just so catchy.

And that concludes Episode 2. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first one. If not for your encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have continued. I also genuinely enjoy hearing from people, so send me your thoughts! This is a weird, unprecedented mashup of a live reaction post, behind the scenes info, and detailed language and culture notes, and I’m still learning how to balance the three. Your feedback is always welcome.

I’d also like to take a moment to credit my sister, who, in addition to weighing in on a lot of the translations, is also the chief researcher and fact checker for these. I, meanwhile, am in charge of bad jokes and snark. I mentioned before that these take longer than you might expect, but it’s really true. The time we spend watching the episode is actually the least of it, and as much as I enjoy them, they are a huge time suck.

So. This is what I’m going to do. If you’d like to see more of these, or if you enjoyed this, or if you’ve enjoyed any of the translations or commentary or whatnot I’ve been posting recently, please consider buying me a coffee. If you follow the link, you can buy me a $2 cup of virtual coffee. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve decided to give it a try. It’ll help me to gauge how much interest there is, and, possibly more importantly, it will help me to justify all the time haha. If and when I’ve established there’s enough interest, I’ll proceed with Episode 3. ;)

#tale of the nine tailed #totnt #lost in translation #구미호뎐 #kdrama #korean language #korean culture

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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

Text

The Meet-Cute (2 of 2)

In which Ruby decides that what Emma’s love life needs is a good old-fashioned meet-cute, and sets about arranging one for her. Or two, or three, or six... whatever, she’ll set up however many it takes for her friend to meet The One. But it may turn out that Emma doesn’t need any help finding The One after all...

First part on Tumblr and AO3

a/n: this chapter contains sweetness, quite a lot of silliness, and a big ol’ hot kiss.

Thanks to @optomisticgirl for the idea and @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, and @katie-dub for support and general delightfulness.

PART TWO:

The next day was Wednesday and Emma spent the morning on patrol, driving around Storybrooke and trying not to think about how far away Friday was. She was just about to take a break and go to Granny’s for some coffee when her phone rang. The name on the screen was just about the last one she would ever have expected, and she frowned hard at it for the space of a good four rings before answering.

“Graham?”

“Hey, Emma.” His voice was just as she remembered it, gruff and accented. And faintly apologetic, which was new. “Um. Long time.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. How’s life in the woods?”

“Ah, yeah, it’s good. And, um, about that. It’s actually why I’m calling. Because I can’t come in to town, I mean.”

“Well I didn’t think it was because you wanted to catch up on old times,” said Emma drily. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s my truck.” Graham paused and the silence stretched.

“Your truck?” Emma prompted, her patience wearing thin. She was not in the mood for Graham’s strong-and-silent schtick today.

“My truck.” He sighed. “It—well, it seems to be out of gas.”

Emma rubbed her temples. “And how is your lack of forward planning the responsibility of the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department?” she asked, in a voice just shy of a snap.

“Well that’s the thing, I did forward plan,” said Graham. “I had a full tank last night because I knew that today I needed to drive to Portland. There’s a forestry convention I’m going to—well, it’s not important, but I wanted to get an early start so I made sure everything was ready before I went to bed last night. Then this morning I wake up to find my tank empty and the spare can missing.”

A creeping suspicion was beginning to crawl up Emma’s spine. “So you think, what, someone stole your gas?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but honestly I can’t come up with any other explanation.”

“Graham, do you happen to know Ruby Lucas?”

He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was confused. “Ah, the woman at the diner?”

“That’s her.”

“I chat with her whenever I go there, maybe once or twice a month. She seems nice. Why?”

“No reason.” Emma glowered through her windshield at Granny’s sign as she drove past it. “Listen, I can bring you a can of gas but it’ll take me at least half an hour to get it and get out to you. Does that leave you enough time to get to Portland?”

“Yeah, it should. I’ll have to change my plans a bit, but it’ll be okay. Only, Emma, what about the person who emptied my tank—”

Emma set her jaw as she pulled into the gas station. “I’ll take care of it.”

—

Thursday morning found her in Granny’s early, marching up to the counter with her fists planted on her hips.

“I could arrest you, you know. I probably should.”

“What?” Ruby blinked innocent eyes as she prepared Emma’s coffee, with plenty of milk and extra cinnamon and hazelnut syrups. “What did I do?”

“Emptying a gas tank is stealing, Rubes. You’ve got to stop doing this stuff!”

Ruby handed her the coffee, and a bag containing a fresh bear claw. Emma scowled at it as Ruby asked “Did it get you a date, at least?”

“It did not. At least, not in this decade.”

“Um.” Ruby frowned. “What?”

“I already dated Graham.” Emma decided that while the bear claw was unmistakably a bribe she could always just eat the evidence, and took a big bite.

“You did?” Ruby demanded. “When?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember,” muttered Emma around her mouthful of pastry and nuts. “It wasn’t long after I moved to Storybrooke. Just before he decided to ‘escape the cage of civilisation’ and moved out to the middle of nowhere.”

“Wait, wait. It’s coming back to me now. Are you saying that Graham is Mountain Lodge Guy?”

“Yep.”

“Fuuuuck Ems, I’m sorry.” To her credit, Ruby did look genuinely apologetic.

“Well you should be,” retorted Emma, hardening her heart. “And you should stop doing this, Ruby! It’s getting ridiculous. I mean, it was always ridiculous but now it’s branching into minor-felony-level ridiculous. Please, I am begging you, stop.”

“Ah,” said Ruby, biting her lip. “Um, can I stop tomorrow?”

Emma’ blood ran cold. “Why?”

“I—may have already put the next plan into motion.”

“What? What plan?” Emma demanded, just as her phone started ringing.

Ruby grimaced. “Let’s just say you’d probably better answer that.”

—

Emma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before knocking firmly on the door of a large, sprawling house on the edge of town. It swung open immediately to reveal a man wearing a frantic expression, his dark hair standing up on end.

“Oh, thank God!” he cried, falling to his knees. “Thank God.” The dog at the end of the leash Emma had looped around her hand wriggled in delight as he licked the man’s face. The man hugged the dog tightly, laughing as his cheeks was thoroughly washed. “How’d you find him?” he asked.

Emma watched the reunion with a reluctant smile. “I had a tip,” she replied wryly. “Someone spotted him in the street and managed to grab him. They let the sheriff’s department know, and we cross-checked his description with reports of missing dogs.” Or at least that’s what she would have done had the dog actually been missing, and not lured into the backseat of a car by Ruby armed with a juicy steak. The dog had spent the morning in the storage room of the diner, gnawing happily at the bone for an hour before taking a long nap on a cosy blanket. And now he was home again, unharmed and with a belly full of steak. All in all not a bad morning for him, Emma reflected, though she felt sorry for his owner.

The owner who was now rising to his feet and eyeing Emma with the eye of a man who, reassured of his beloved pet’s safety, could turn his attention to other matters.

“I’m August,” he said, offering his hand. “August Booth.”

Emma knew this of course, because Ruby had told her, but she took his hand anyway. “Emma Swan.”

“Emma,” August repeated. “I’ve seen you around, obviously, but—well it’s nice to finally meet you. Can I offer you a drink or anything?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m on duty and I really should get back to it.”

“Of course.” He gave her a hopeful smile, as the dog bounced cheerfully at his side. “Another time, maybe?”

“Ah, maybe.” Emma’s own smile was noncommittal. “Have a nice day.”

“You too. Emma.”

Emma got home that evening to find Henry with a huge grin on his face and an A on his solar system project.

“Look, Mom!” he cried, waving the paper at her. “Mr Johnson said it was one of the best projects he’s ever seen!”

“Wow, that’s great, Henry!” Emma took the paper and examined it with a beam of pride. “Well done!”

“I can’t wait to tell Killian.’ Henry was bouncing on his heels. “Can we call him? Maybe he can come over again!”

“Um, it’s a bit late to invite him over now,” Emma hedged. The truth was that she’d been looking for an excuse to text Killian since he’d left her place on Tuesday night, but was also not sure he’d want her bothering him. “But you can tell him tomorrow.”

“Is he coming over tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah. We’re going out.”

“Out?” Henry’s eyes went wide. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Mom, you don’t need to ask me if you want to date someone. It’s your life.”

Emma shook her head, lips pressing together in a bittersweet smile. Sometimes her little baby boy seemed so grown up. It had been happening more and more often lately and though she loved to see it, it also gave her an aching twinge in her heart.

“But you’re the most important thing in my life,” she said firmly, “and I’m not going to date someone you don’t like.”

“Well, I like Killian. So as far as I’m concerned, date away.”

She laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “So you can wait until tomorrow to tell him about your project?”

Henry heaved a great sigh, though his eyes were laughing. “I suppose.”

—

Henry may have been able to wait, but Emma found she couldn’t. Barely two hours later, after they’d eaten dinner and Henry had settled down to do his homework, Emma found her fingers typing out a text to Killian without her permission, and sending it before her brain had a chance to object.

Emma: Henry got an A on his solar system project.

She held her breath after she clicked send, nerves fluttering in her belly. But it was barely a minute before three dots appeared below her message and then Killian’s reply.

Killian: That’s brilliant! Tell him I said well done.

Emma heaved a breath and felt her lips curve in a silly grin. I think he’d rather tell you himself, she texted back. I was just too excited to wait.

The reply came almost immediately. Your secret is safe with me, love, it said. I’ll pretend it’s the first I’m hearing of the news.

The silly smile was still on Emma’s face as she tried to think of a way to extend the conversation. Before she could come up with anything the three dots appeared again followed shortly by a message.

Killian: How was your day, Swan? Any exciting crime on the mean streets of Storybrooke?

Emma’s cheeks began to hurt as her grin widened further, and she settled in to regale Killian with the story of the dog, minus a few key details of course. When she finished he told her about a frustrating patron he’d had, who was looking for a very particular book but could not remember its title or author, or in fact any details about its plot or characters. All he could recall was that it had red on its cover.

Which, as I’m sure you can imagine, did not much narrow things down, Killian remarked.

The conversation drifted then onto other topics, flowing so easily that before Emma knew it they had been texting for three hours. When she finally got to bed that night—an hour later than usual—she drifted off with a smile still on her face, thinking of him and of their date the next day.

—

Wear something warm, Killian had said, and so late on Friday afternoon Emma changed out of the thin blouse she’d worn all day and into a sweater. A new sweater, one she’d bought on an impromptu trip to the boutique that morning. It would be winter soon, she’d reasoned, and she could always use another warm layer. It was definitely not because the sweater was a pretty shade of rose pink that complimented her complexion and made her feel soft and feminine, or because its slim fit hugged her breasts in a very flattering way.

Not at all.

She finished the look with dark jeans and a brown leather jacket with a sheepskin trim and headed out into the living room, ten minutes early.

Henry was watching TV but when she came into the room he looked up and his eyes widened. “You look awesome, Mom!” he said.

“Thanks, kid.” Emma rubbed her damp palms on her jeans. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nervous. “Are you sure you’re okay with staying here by yourself?” she asked Henry, who rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said. “I have your number and Killian’s number and the hospital’s number and Mary Margaret’s number. Mary Margaret is just upstairs if I need her and she’ll come in to check on me at bedtime and make sure I’m not throwing any wild parties.” He gave Emma a sardonic look and she couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Dinner’s in the fridge,” Henry continued, “I’m supposed to do my homework so it’s done for the weekend then I can play video games, and you’ll be home by midnight. Did I forget anything?”

She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at him. “No, I think that covers it.”

He got up from the couch and gave her a hug. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just for a few hours.”

Emma nodded, squeezing him tightly. “I know.” He was still her baby, though, and it was a mother’s prerogative to worry.

Henry seemed to sense her mood because he gave her a cheeky grin. “Be sure you’re home on time, though, or else I might turn into a pumpkin,” he teased.

She laughed. “I promise.”

Just then the doorbell rang, sending Emma’s heartbeat into overdrive. She took a deep breath and then another as she smoothed her hair and adjusted her clothes. Henry smirked at her and went to open the door. “Hey, Killian!” he greeted.

“Hello, Henry,” Killian replied, and God, Emma thought, his voice was even sexier than she remembered. “How are you?”

“Good,” said Henry brightly. “I got an A on my solar system project!”

“That’s brilliant, lad!” said Killian, catching Emma’s eye and giving her a wink. Probably the least stealthy wink she’d ever seen, more of a full-face twitch.

Fortunately, Henry was too busy grinning with delight to notice. “Thanks for helping me,” he said.

“It was my pleasure.” Killian smiled at Henry but his eyes kept flitting to where Emma was standing behind him, hands clasped and trying not to twist them nervously. “Swan,” he said, transferring his smile to her. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks.” Emma flushed at the compliment and searched for the right words to return it. Killian was dressed in a sweater as well, a thick fisherman’s one in a deep blue shade that brought out his eyes. “You look...” Hot. Gorgeous. Highly fuckab—gah. No. She shook that thought from her head. “…um…”

He shot her a small smirk, one that said he knew what she was thinking, even as his cheeks went pink. “I know,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. Of course he did.

They stood grinning foolishly at each other until Henry gave a loud cough.

“Ah.” Killian scratched behind his ear, the flush in his cheeks deepening. “Are you ready then, love?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Henry, are you—”

“Mom.” Henry gave her a stern look. “I’m fine. Go.”

“All right, all right,” she sighed. “I’m going.”

She allowed Killian to guide her out the door and down the stairs with a hand hovering just over the small of her back. From another man such a gesture would have felt controlling but from him it just seemed sweet—old-fashioned, like the way he spoke and the general air of courteousness he carried.

“Where are we going?” she asked, when they exited her building and turned down the sidewalk.

He smiled, soft and a bit nervous. “You’ll see.”

They chatted lightly as they walked, conversation made easier by all they had shared in the texting marathon of the previous evening, and when they arrived at the docks a good twenty minutes later Emma felt as though no time had passed at all.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around in confusion.

“Come with me.” He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation. Briefly she wondered at how easily she trusted this man she hardly knew, she who almost never trusted anyone, and then he led her up a gangplank and onto a long wooden sailing boat and she forgot everything else in her astonishment.

“This is yours?” she exclaimed.

“Aye,” said Killian with a small shrug. “You can take the lad off the sea but you can’t take the sea out of the lad. Or something.”

Emma laughed. “You bought this after you left the navy?”

“I did,” he replied. “Lived on board for a few months. I was going to stay on her while I was in Storybrooke but Belle said that was ridiculous when there was an empty apartment above the library, so…”

“Yeah. And doesn’t it get cold at night? On the boat I mean.”

“I have blankets. And rum.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed. “But yes, the apartment is much more congenial as a place to sleep, so I’m grateful for it.”

On the boat’s deck a blanket was spread out, with a pile of cushions on one side and a small camp stove on the other. “I thought we could make grilled cheese,” Killian explained. “Henry, ah, told me it was your favourite. And everything tastes better under the stars.”

Emma felt a lump rising in her throat. “There—there aren’t any stars,” she said.

Killian smiled at her. “Not yet.”

She made herself comfortable on the blanket while Killian produced a leather satchel, from which he removed plates and napkins, bread and butter, and a dizzying array of cheeses.

Emma gaped as he lined them up in front of the stove. “I usually just use the kind that comes in pre-wrapped slices,” she said.

“Aye, I have some of that.” he replied, holding up a small, square parcel. “Though I thought, maybe, if you were in the mood for it, that you, ah—might be up for trying something new?”

His expression was so hopeful, so open, and she knew that he wasn’t just talking about the cheese. He meant the way she’d been living, closed-off and untrusting. Alone. He was asking her to let him in, and God, Emma thought, she wanted to.

“I—yeah.” She swallowed hard, but the smile she gave him was genuine. “I’d like that. But, I’m gonna be honest here, I have no idea which one.”

Killian laughed, a deep, rich sound that warmed her inside and out. “Try the gouda,” he advised.

“I don’t even know what that is,” she said, laughing with him.

The warm smile remained on his lips but there was something deeply solemn in his eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Emma swallowed again. “Yeah,” she replied, and it was true. She really did.

Killian nodded. “Gouda,” he said firmly.

She nodded back. “Okay.”

—

The gouda turned out to be delicious, melting into the kind of stringy, gloopy mess that had Emma’s eyes rolling back in her head with delight. Its flavour was mild, almost nutty, and absolutely delicious—way better, she was sure, than the soft, smelly stuff Killian put on his bread.

“This is amazing,” she said around a mouthful of melted cheese. “That, on the other hand…”

He chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m sure. So... why exactly did you acquire it?”

An odd look crossed Killian’s face. “Sometimes you eat what’s put in front of you, love, and learn to like it later,” he said, in a voice grim with not entirely pleasant memories. “I’ve been in places where to refuse the food would be a grave insult, and a grave insult could result in... well, let’s just call them unpleasant consequences.”

“Wow.”

He gave shrug and an offhand smile. “I mean, not to be dramatic or anything.”

“Oh no, obviously not.” She munched her cheese, trying to think of a lighter topic. “So, um, what made you become a librarian? No offence but you don’t really seem the type.”

“No, probably not.” His smile warmed and softened and Emma felt herself relax. “I wanted a quiet life after the navy and I’ve always loved books, so it seemed like a natural choice.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.”

“It’s been healing,” he said softly. “In more ways than one.” He was silent for a moment, then turned to her with a quirked eyebrow. “And what about you, Emma, what brought you into law enforcement?” he asked.

“What don’t I seem like the type?”

“On the contrary, it seems a perfect fit for you. I’d just—like to know you better.”

Emma felt a flush rise in her cheeks as her heartbeat quickened. “I was in bail bonds before I came to Storybrooke, but there’s not much need for that here so I sort of fell into sheriffing,” she explained. “I didn’t even intend to move here, I was just passing through. But I had car trouble and got stuck for a while, then the job opened up and I just—stayed.”

“It’s a good place to stay,” Killian remarked.

“Yeah. Way better than where we were living in the city. Henry was really little when we moved and I’m glad he’s growing up in a place like this.”

“Aye, it seems an ideal spot to raise a child.”

There was a wistfulness in his voice that made her heart thump harder. “I just realised I never asked you where you live,” she said.

“Ah.” He scratched behind his ear again. “That is a question. I’ve been in Boston for the past few years but I’m starting to think I need a change. One of the reasons I was glad for this break in Storybrooke.”

Emma focused on keeping her breathing steady. “Where do you think you might go?” she asked.

“I might”—he shot her a mildly wary glance—“stay here.”

“Here? As in Storybrooke here?”

“Aye. There’s a job opening up next year at the high school library that I’ve applied for.”

“I—” She blinked in surprise. “Wow.”

“I hope it doesn’t freak you out, love,” said Killian, stumbling over his words in his haste to speak them. “It wasn’t because of—well, it isn’t as though you aren’t a factor, but mostly I just—”

“You could see a future here.” Emma nodded. “Hey, I get it. Same.”

He visibly relaxed, expelling a long breath before continuing. “I actually put in the application before we met,” he explained. “About fifteen minutes before, in fact. But I’d be lying if I said the prospect of staying here didn’t grow considerably brighter when I realised there was a chance you could be part of that future.” His eyes widened when he realised what he’d said. “I mean, I—”

“Yeah.” Emma reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know what you mean.”

Dusk had fallen by that time, and the stars were beginning to appear in the sky. Killian quickly tidied up the plates and utensils and cheese, then produced from his seemingly bottomless satchel a thermos full of hot chocolate.

“Mmmm,” said Emma, “that smells amazing. Though I usually have mine with some—”

“Cinnamon?” Killian grinned at her as he held up a small jar of the spice. “Aye.”

“Henry told you,” guessed Emma.

“That he did.”

“When did you have time to mine my son for information about me?” she teased him.

“We had some quite interesting conversation in between discussions of moons and planets,” he informed her. “It’s a truly wonderful boy you have, love.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, accepting the steaming cup he offered her. “He really is.”

Cradling their cups of chocolate, they relaxed back against the pillows and gazed up at the darkening sky. As the stars grew brighter Killian showed her some constellations, pointing to them with one hand while the other lay next to hers on the blanket, close enough that she could brush his little finger with her own. She slid her hand closer and let her fingers curl around his, and when he turned his hand to grip hers more firmly she relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder as they sipped their chocolate, looked up at the sky, and talked. They talked about everything, likes and dislikes, pastimes and pet hates. Their childhoods and their dreams for the future, their hopes and their fears. She told him, haltingly, about Neal, and he replied with the story of his affair with a married woman, which had led to him leaving the navy. For two such different people they had a surprising amount in common, she realised. Not so much in the specifics of their lives as in the way they looked at the world, and the experiences that had shaped them. Emma had never in her life felt so understood.

All too soon her phone buzzed in her pocket, reminding her that it was almost midnight and she had promised Henry she’d be back before then.

“I have to go,” she said apologetically. “Henry—”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll walk with you.”

He kept her hand in his as they stood and headed back to her apartment, twining his fingers with hers and brushing his thumb feather-light across her knuckles, setting her heart racing in her chest. His hand was warm and rough and the gentle movements of his thumb sent sparks dancing up her arm and all across her skin.

When they reached her door she turned with a smile, still holding tight to his fingers, loath to break the contact until she absolutely had to.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said. “We should do this again.”

His own smile lit his face, stealing her breath as it always did. “Any time, love,” he murmured. “Perhaps next time we can go for a sail.”

“I’d love that.”

His eyes were soft as they caressed her face and she found herself holding her breath as they swayed in each other’s orbit, easing closer and closer, and then closer still until she felt his fingertips brushing across her cheek, until he cradled her jaw in his palm and their lips met.

The kiss began gently, tentatively—sweet brushes of lips and sighs of breaths that soon grew deeper, hotter, more insistent as the hands they still held gripped tighter, as his fingers left her cheek to tangle in her hair and hers fisted in his sweater to pull him closer. A deep groan rumbled in his chest and Emma felt herself pushed back against the door, his lips insistent now, his tongue hot in her mouth and his body firm against hers. She released his sweater to curl her arm around his neck and hold him tight, pressing herself as close as she could get, rolling her hips over the hardness she could feel low against her belly.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way, if she ever had. Like she couldn’t get enough of him—his feel and smell and taste—like she wanted to tear off his clothes and have him right here, and damn the consequences. But also she felt safe, secure in the certainty that while he clearly wanted her just as much, once the kiss ended he would say goodnight and go, no pressure, no demands, no resentment. She was certain of this because she trusted him, and the inherent decency she’d sensed in him from the beginning. That kind of trust was freeing, she realised in a bright and stunning flash of understanding. Wonderfully freeing, to let down her defences and put herself into the hands of another person, knowing he wouldn’t take advantage or use that trust to hurt her. Her heart soared as she hugged Killian tighter and kissed him with everything she had, and when the kiss finally ended and he rested his forehead against hers, all she felt was happiness and the stirrings, deep in her heart, of a far stronger emotion.

“That was—” he gasped, blinking dazed eyes and clearly struggling for words.

“Amazing?” she supplied. “Incredible? Hot as fuck?”

He gave a breathless chuckle. “One hell of a goodnight kiss. Plus yeah, all those other things.”

He pressed another kiss on her lips, brief and chaste and gentle, then released her and stepped back. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

Emma tried not to feel bereft at the loss of his warmth and closeness. “Maybe you could come over for dinner,” she said. “I mean, if you’re not busy. It’s just Henry would love to see you, and—”

“I’d love that,” he said, gently interrupting her before her stream of words could get out of control. “Let me know what I can bring. Not brownies this time.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement and she gave a slight wince. “Was it that obvious?”

“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Emma, but you’re a bit of an open book,” he replied. “One I’d very much like to read more of.”

“I—I’d like that too,” she said softly. “And my favourite dessert is lemon bars.”

“Lemon bars I can manage.” He smiled, a bit wistfully but with a new light in his eyes that made her feel like she could fly. “Goodnight, Emma,” he murmured.

“Night, Killian.”

She watched him until he disappeared around the bend in the stairs then slipped into her apartment, shutting the door silently behind her and leaning against for a moment. She closed her eyes and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, then gave herself a little shake and took off her jacket and shoes before padding silently into Henry’s room. He was fast asleep, with the blankets kicked off and bunched around his waist. She pulled them down and tucked them in around him.

“Mom?” he muttered.

“Yeah, kid. I’m home,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Henry blinked heavy eyelids. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Go back to sleep.”

“K,” he replied, and in his next breath she could tell he was asleep again.

—

The next morning Emma dropped Henry off at a friend’s house and went to Granny’s for some coffee. Ruby greeted her with a scowl.

“You here alone?” she demanded.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “I am.”

“August another no-go, then?”

“I have to admit, he was closer than the others,” Emma conceded. “Probably your best attempt yet.”

“But not good enough?”

“Nope. Not good enough.” Perhaps once there may have been a time when someone like August would have caught Emma’s eye. Before Neal. Even, possibly, before she’d met Killian. But now...

Ruby planted a fist on her hip and shook her finger at Emma’s nose. “I’ll get you, Emma Swan,” she declared. “Sooner or later, come hell or high water, I will find the man for you. I swear it.”

“Ruby—”

“Nope.” The shaking finger became a palm in Emma’s face, which she irritatedly pushed aside. “I know you don’t approve of my tactics,” Ruby continued, “but the gauntlet’s been thrown down. My honour is at stake.”

“Your honour? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! I’m going to find you a guy or die trying, and that’s just how things are. Now, here’s your coffee.” She thrust a takeaway cup into Emma’s hand and Emma sighed heavily, watching Ruby through narrowed eyes as she handed another cup to another customer, before finally taking a long sip.

It was a minute before her brain registered the taste of what was in her mouth and then she spit the coffee out with a choking gasp.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Coffee,” said Ruby, who was standing ready with a pile of paper napkins. She fluttered her lashes innocently. “Why, is there something wrong with it?”

Just then Emma heard the sound of vigorous coughing and a very familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

“Excuse me, lass, but I think you may have given me the wrong drink,” it said.

“Oh did I?” cried Ruby. “I am so sorry! What seems to be the problem with it?”

“Well, it’s, er, very sweet.”

Emma sighed and turned around to face Killian. His face brightened in surprise and pleasure but she spoke before he could greet her. “I think you must have mine,” she said. “You take it black?”

“Aye.”

“Here.” She held out the cup she was holding. “This one’s yours.”

“Ah. And I suppose that makes this yours.”

They exchanged cups and smiles, Killian’s bright but confused and Emma’s resigned, especially when their fingers brushed and her heart began to race.

“Wow,” said Ruby loudly, “what a funny mix-up. You two should definitely get each other’s names, in case it happens again.”

Killian opened his mouth to reply but Emma gave a tiny shake of her head and he closed it again, his forehead wrinkling with a baffled frown. Emma turned to Ruby.

“All right,” she hissed. “You win.

“I—what?”

“I like this one. I’ll take him. Congratulations, you did it.”

Ruby looked genuinely nonplussed. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Well I am a bit of a catch,” piped up Killian, who was watching the exchange with amusement and dawning understanding.

Ruby’s eyes flitted between them, narrowed in suspicion. “Emma Swan,” she growled, “if you’re fucking with me…”

“I’m not! Honestly. Here, look, I’ll prove it.”

She set her cup down on the counter and turned back to Killian, watching his eyes go wide and the smirk fall from his face as she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. Dimly she heard the sound of Ruby’s gasp and of Killian’s coffee cup hitting the floor, but then his arms were around her and he was sighing against her lips and all Emma could think was that what she’d told Ruby just now was true. She did like this one, and she damned well would take him. For the first time in far too long Emma truly and honestly envisioned what her life could be with a man in it, a partner to share it with, and found that the prospect didn’t scare her. She was excited for it. She wanted it. She wanted Killian.

For all its heat and passion he kiss ended softly, and she smiled up at Killian, still clinging to his jacket, pressing her forehead to his. He grinned back, delighted if slightly dazed. “That was rather forward of you, lass, considering we only just met,” he said, deadpan. “But I can’t say as I object.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “What do you say we take our coffee somewhere quiet and get to know each other a bit better?”

“I’d say that’s an excellent plan. But as to the coffee, well—” He indicated the steaming puddle at their feet.

“Here you go,” said Ruby, and they both turned to see her holding out a fresh cup. “On the house.”

Killian shook his head. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Look, anyone who gets a kiss like that off Emma is going to need it,” said Ruby firmly. She raised an eyebrow at each of them in turn. “There’s something going on here that I don’t know about, and rest assured I will find out what it is,” she informed them. “But for now take your coffee and go. You two are distractingly hot together and I have other customers.”

“Well if you’re—”

“I said go!” Ruby glared until Killian took the cup from her. “Enjoy. Oh, and Emma—”

“Yeah?”

“Call me later.” Ruby tapped a sharp-looking fingernail meaningfully on the countertop. “Or else.”

—

@kmomof4, @stahlop, @spartanguard, @mariakov81, @teamhook

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #modern au #romcom #captain swan #matchmaking #hijinks #the meet-cute #profdanglaisstuff

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angelbabyszn · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Vibes (Sad Eyes X Reader)

Gif by @merakiaes

OMB Masterlist / Tag List

B/F/N - Best Friend

C/B - Car Brand

"Hi baby." you beamed as your boyfriend, Sad Eyes enter the house.

You were in the kitchen making dinner as he just came back from doing another task with Spooky for the gang, the Santos.

"Hi Y/N." Sad Eyes replies depressingly. He sounds annoyed, making you stop stirring the shrimp scampi in the pan, put a top on it, and walk out of the kitchen.

"What's wrong, baby?" you asked as you went over and wrapped your arms around his torso.

"I don't want to talk about it." Sad Eyes said, with a sigh of irritation.

He grabs your arms and unwraps them from his torso. He walked over to the couch and grunted as he sat down.

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV. His attention was grabbed as he saw his favorite football team playing in the championship.

"Baby, I thought I told you to tell me what's going on immediately. You can't ignore it." you remind him.

Sad Eyes didn't respond, he continued on watching the championship game on the TV as he took off his plaid flannel and threw it on the floor with no care in the world.

Your jaw dropped a bit by his rude action. You just cleaned and swept the floor. You walked over and picked up the shirt irritably.

You walked through the hallway of the house with his flannel aggressively until you accidentally dropped it.

You pick it back up and see a little piece of paper that wasn't on the floor before underneath it.

You pick up the little piece of paper and unveil it. You couldn't believe what you're seeing right now.

The paper has a phone number with hearts surrounding it. You felt rage going through your body, making you clench the over-shirt in your left hand.

You look back down the hall to see your boyfriend's eyes still focused on the game on the couch. Your mind starts to question his intentions of getting somebody's else's number.

"Ooo, this looks good, babygirl. Thank you." Sad Eyes grinned as you sat dinner in front of him at the dining table.

"You're welcome, babe. I was wondering if you're able to make it to my singing gig this Friday." you said in a casual voice.

"You got a gig? Where?" He said, cheerfully.

You place the little poster next to him on the table. He grabbed it and read the information of your upcoming performance.

He shrugged and looked back at you. His face became full of grief as he saw you full of excitement in your eyes.

He knows this was your passion and it's your first gig since last year. He didn't want to disappoint you but sadly, he has to tell the truth.

"Y/N, I'm sorry but...I can't make it." He drawled out while looking at you with upsetting eyes.

You scoffed and looked away from him. This isn't the first time he disappointed you.

He never came and supported you with your dreams. He is always doing something else, which upsets you even more.

"Reina, come sit down with me." your boyfriend advised and pat the seat next to him.

You turn back around and look at him with a provoked face. You have enough of this.

"Since you don't want to talk about what's wrong, I won't be sitting with you. I'm taking a bath." you remarked with crossed arms and a gruff tone.

"Y/N, babe." He said sympathetically as he looked at you leaving the dining room to the bathroom.

You lit some candles, connected your speaker to your phone for music, and took off your clothes.

You put your hair up in a bun, and drop a bath bomb in the warm bathtub you set up before giving dinner to Sad Eyes.

You locked the door and got into the bathtub. You let your mixed feelings for Sad Eyes melt away with chill music playing in the background on the speaker.

Meanwhile, Sad Eyes took out his phone, and started to talk to somebody on the phone with your singing gig poster in his hands.

"Have a good day, hermosa" Sad Eyes beamed and kissed you on the lips.

"Bye baby." you said with a small smile and shut the door behind him.

You look out the window and see Sad Eyes pulling away from the house. You make sure you can't see him in the distance.

You slowly back up from the window and pull out your phone to call somebody.

"He's gone." you said with an approving smile on the phone.

A moment later, the front door busted open, making your heart beating fast and your eyes widened in fear.

"B/F/N's in the house!" B/F/N chiming in with pride as they entered the house.

"B/F/N!" you cautioned her as you closed the front door again. B/F/N drops onto the couch and lay on their back.

"So, what's going on with you and Sad Eyes that gave you trouble last night?" your best friend, appealed as you sat down on the recliner.

You pull out the little piece of paper from your pocket and hand it to B/F/N.

B/F/N look at the phone number on the paper and they sit up slowly. Their lips tighten in suspicion.

"Y/N, what's this?" They wondered while holding the paper in their right hand and leaning it to their right while looking at you with narrow eyes.

"I don't know. You tell me. He hasn't been communicating. He's always out with the gang." you explained, while having a shifty eye contact with B/F/N.

"Y/N, you're just going to let him get away like that? The Santos doesn't matter if he doesn't communicate with you!" B/F/N barked, while clutching both of their hands together, making the paper crumble.

"B/F/N, you know I'm the quiet one. I don't like conflict." you shuddered as you scratch the back of your right ear.

"Conflict my a*s! We're leaving! Let's go!" B/F/N remarked, in an angrily tone and they got up from the couch and walked over to the front door aggressively.

"B/F/N! Stop!" you shouted as you got up and looked at her with wide eyes. B/F/N stopped walking and looked back at you.

"Come on. I'm sure he will tell me what's going on tonight. I don't want to be the pushing girlfriend." you said with a sad grimace.

"Why do you want to wait when you can find out now? Let's go and confront him! You need to know what's going on!" B/F/N said with simple directness.

"But-"

"Get in the car." B/F/N ordered you and grabbed your car keys. They walked out before you could even respond.

You did an exasperated sigh and you grab your phone and purse before walking out the house to see what's going on with Sad Eyes.

"Could've found out tonight but nooo, we have to find it now. B/F/N, if he sees us and he don't trust me no more, I'm blaming it on you cause this is some ridiculous-"

B/F/N slapped her right hand on your mouth, making you stop talking. You made a whining sound through her hand because it hurt you.

B/F/N turn their head to you and raise their eyebrow to see if you're done. You nodded your head and B/F/N slowly pulled their hand away from your mouth.

B/F/N look back out their window while you leaned forward and look over to see Spooky's house with some gang members all over the front lawn.

Luckily, nobody hasn't noticed your car on the other side of the street yet so you're able to see what's going on.

Your gaze becomes fixed as you see Sad Eyes coming out of the house and sitting on the staircase.

"What's he hiding?" you thought as you look at your boyfriend talking to Oso.

You started with wide eyes as you saw a woman walking down the sidewalk and walking up to Sad Eyes. She sat down next to him and they started talking.

You lean more forward to the window with narrow eyes as you see both of them talking like they know each other from a long time ago.

You saw the girl giggling as Sad Eyes was looking like he was telling one of his stories.

You started to contemplate their interaction with each other. You couldn't take it no more.

"I've had enough. Let's go." you scoffed and you lean back on your seat and cross arms.

"Y/N-"

"I've said let's go. I'll deal with him." you ordered again and looked out your side of the window with a tight-lipped mouth.

B/F/N looked at you doubted for a few moments before starting the car again and pulling out from the parking spot.

"Hey sweetheart." said Spooky as he came over from his car and walked over to his girl.

The girl walked over to him and they did a sweet kiss.

"Dude, you weren't trying to steal my girl, wouldn't you?" Spooky questioned as he walked over to his best friend, Sad Eyes with the girl's waist around his right arm.

"Nah, just keeping her company." Sad Eyes grinned and Spooky reached into his left pocket and pulled out two dollar stacks.

"Here, mano. You're been working hard for the past few weeks and I've wanted to give you a gift." said Spooky, causing Sad Eyes to quickly get up and walking over to collect it.

"Thanks, Spooky. I think I have enough to buy Y/N's gift. I've been so distant from her. I've been so distant that I'm not able to make it to her gig." sad Eyes grieving of what your relationship with him has been for the past few weeks.

"Whoa, she's having a new gig? Why didn't you say so? I've let you off the hook for a few days. Get some of these other Santos to actually do something." Spooky glared at his gang members playing card games or lifting weights all over his front lawn.

"You should bring her gift to her show. That would make her night." The girl said with a beam on her face.

"That ain't a bad idea. Thanks, Dinah." Sad Eyes remarked happily.

"No problem. She's going to love it." Dinah said with excitement.

"I hope so. I really do. I'm worried she may break up with me soon." Sad Eyes said, doubting himself.

"Don't worry, I know she wouldn't break up with you. Both of you are in deep with each other. Nothing is going to break that." Spooky acknowledged and he walked into his house with Dinah.

Sad Eyes starts to think about you and all the good memories you have with him. It made him smile and agree with what Spooky said.

"Baby, I'm home!" shouted Sad Eyes as he came into the house and closed the front door behind him.

He walked into the living room and he saw you drinking a drink in your hand with your legs crossed and your foot shaking repeatedly impatiently.

Sad Eyes cautiously tries to get close to you. He knew something was wrong once you were doing that.

"Babe? You're home early!" you said with excitement.

You quickly went over to him and hugged him tight. Sad Eyes calms down and his tension of something being wrong goes away quickly as he hugs you back.

Both of you sat down on the couch next to each other.

"Does that mean, you're going to my show?" you asked as you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"I told you I got to go out with the gang tonight. We have to make a plan to make sure these Prophet$ ain't trying to take the gang down." he explained in a perpetually tired voice.

"Why tonight? Why not tomorrow? You haven't taken a break from the gang in a while. Do you even want to see me perform?" you asked with pleasing eyes.

"Babe, I do want to see you perform, " he confronted while looking deep into your eyes.

He grabs both of your hands with his, brings them to his lips, and kisses both back sides of your hand. "But we need to protect this neighborhood. You know how dangerous it is at night. I don't want nothing to happen to you so we have to do this tonight."

"You know how passionate I am about singing and this is my first performance in a while so can you skip it? Please? You haven't seen any of my performances yet." you said with determination as Sad Eyes walked to the island of the kitchen.

"I know and I'm so happy that you found your purpose in life but that doesn't get us out of this bad neighborhood. We don't have enough money." he said with firm persistence as you walked over to him.

"If you're so happy that I found it, then why can't you just come and see me? I want your support there." you conceded and Sad Eyes looked away without a response.

"Why are you always with the gang? You are not communicating with me and I can't get you a moment alone without you running off again." you confessed as you looked at him tumbling a bit.

"Y/N, I-"

"No. Go ahead. I don't care if you go to my show or not. Be with the gang." you snapped as you walked over to the bin of dirty laundry on the dining table and grabbed it.

You start walking through the house with the laundry to the laundry room until you stop and look straight with a tight lips. You don't even turn around to look at your distant boyfriend right now.

"Look, if you don't want to be with me or talk about what's going on, just pack your clothes and be on your way." you said with a straight face, making Sad Eyes finally giving his undivided attention on you.

Sad Eyes quickly ran to the laundry room and tried to open the door but it was locked. He grips the handle and shakes it with all of his strength to open it but it didn't budge.

"Y/N! Hermosa, you didn't mean that! Let's talk! Please!" Sad Eyes shouted while leaning against the door and gripping the handle.

He was pleased to talk to you right now. He definitely knows he really messed this up this time.

It's so bad that you wanted him out. He has to fix this. Now.

"Hello, future artist!" shouted B/F/N as they entered your dressing room already dressed up for the performance.

You were wearing a Marilyn Monroe inspired white sleeveless dress with sleeves and matching heels. Your hair was in a high ponytail with curls at the end and was wearing silver jewelry.

"So, what's the reason with these throwback outfits?" B/F/N wondered.

"It's a 60′s-inspired night at the theater so all music is modified or made inspired by that time." you answered as you were putting on bold red lipstick on your lips.

"Y/N! B/F/N! Jasmine! You're up in one minute." Ruby reported outside the dressing room after knocking three times.

He was the planner for the show tonight and wanted everything to be perfect...before everything becomes a mess as usual.

"Cesar, no! Those are for the stars!" shouted Ruby as he walked over to Cesar at the snack table.

"Y/N? I don't think you confirm that Jasmine was to be performing with us!" shouted B/F/N upset. She didn't like Jasmine because it's already sad that she's her sister.

"Chill out. You just sing backup. So, you better not fight and mess this up for me, okay? I heard there's some producer coming tonight." you growled as your eyes glared at your best friend.

B/F/N's eyes widened knowing that you're serious about this. They don't want to ruin the night where you could potentially be signed to a record label.!

"Okay, okay. I'll deal with her." B/F/N said with annoyance as they rolled their eyes.

You hugged them quickly and tight before getting on stage.

"Performing next, the beautiful essential Y/N!" shouted Ruby through the microphone on stage.

Everybody in the audience clapped and cheered as Ruby moved off stage and the curtains opened revealing you in front and B/F/N and Jasmine behind you.

The music started playing and you grip the microphone in front of you softly waiting to start singing at the right time.

As you were halfway through the song, somebody entered the theater which caught your attention but didn't stop you from singing.

Your heart skips a beat as you see your boyfriend, Sad Eyes entering with a suit on and sitting in the back.

You couldn't believe he came. For the first time. To support you. You smile with excitement as a feeling of happiness going through your body.

You started to snap as you sang with the instrumental playing. You fixed your gaze at Sad Eyes which he immediately sends back.

He did a huge goofy grin, making you blush and look down for a few moments. Luckily, it happened when you weren't singing in the song.

The instrumental ended and everybody got up from their seats and cheered and applauded. You did a huge smile to the crowd because they like it which made you feel so happy inside.

You, B/F/N, and Jasmine bowed down at the same time, making the cheers and applause become louder.

As you lifted back up, your attention went to Sad Eyes. You felt a glow coming from your soul as you saw him clapping with a huge smile on his face looking straight at you.

"Thank you so much." you said with a smile on your face to an old couple.

As they walked away, somebody hugged you out of nowhere. They caused you to stumble a bit.

"I'm so proud of you! You did amazing!" B/F/N said with excitement causing you to chuckle.

"Awe thanks," you flowed as you stepped back from B/F/N's hug. "I'm so glad both of you were able to put aside your differences for my performance."

"Yeah...about that..." B/F/N drawled out slowly as they rub the nape of their neck with their right hand.

You groaned in annoyance as you pulled out your wallet, put out twenty dollars and handed it to her.

"Thanks. Love you, bye!" B/F/N shouted as they walked away with your money.

You shake your head in B/F/N's silliness with a smile on your face. All of the sudden, you felt two strong arms wrap around your torso and pull up back to a person's body.

You glance over your shoulder and you make eye contact to very similar dark brown eyes. Your heart skips a beat as you see the eyes pupils dilated.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes widened and your attention quickly went to a guy standing tall while holding his hands together in front of him. You quickly unwrap Sad Eyes's arms from your torso.

He was wearing a suit that looks more expensive than others, gold chains hanging down from their neck, and a wavy haircut.

"Hello. My name is Damian Ross, a producer who works at Hollywood Records." he said with pride and he did a firm handshake with you that you returned back.

"I love your voice and I think you could be the next big thing." Damian said a wink, making Sad Eyes mumbled underneath his breath angrily.

He grabs your hip with his right hand to pull you back to him, making you gasp by his sudden action.

"Really? Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me." you said happily as you have your hands clasped together and looking at Damian.

"Well, if you're interested, give me a call and we can talk." said Damian in a flirtatious way and hands you his card.

You feel Sad Eyes's grip on your hip become tighter, making you glance over your right shoulder again and your eyes widened to Sad Eyes tight lips and clench jaw.

You saw his veins throbbing out in his neck and his left hand in a hard clench fist and bear his rapid breathing. You have to end this now before this becomes a scene.

"I will. Thank you so much. Have a good night." you quickly bursted as you basically snatched the card out of Damian's hand.

"You too." Damian said in a casual tone and he licked his lips as he walked away.

Sad Eyes lets go of your waist and starts to walk away aggressively with clench fists towards him until you stopped him.

"Baby, baby, babe. Please, don't make a scene tonight." you warned as you try to look into his eyes.

"Hermosa, did you not see his interest in you?! It's disgusting! He saw me behind you with my arm around your hip! I-"

Sad Eyes started to look into your eyes and his anger went away. He saw the fear in your eyes, knowing you don't want him to make a scene.

"I'm sorry, babygirl." Sad Eyes agonized as he bow his head down.

You hugged him, making his body freeze and stare down at you with wide eyes.

"Thanks for coming tonight. I really appreciate it. None of this matters if you ain't here with me." you confessed as you smiled into his chest.

His smile immediately smiles and he hugs you back tight. You miss moments like this with him.

"I want to show you something." he said with a grin on your face, causing you to smile again.

"What is it? You being here is the greatest thing right now. What else could I get today?" you asked with excitement.

"Let's find out, shall we?" He insisted as he pulled his right hand out in front of you.

You giggled as you grabbed it and both of you walked out of the theater and into the parking lot.

Sad Eyes pulled out the keys and clicked a button, making a car's lights lit up. You gasped and felt happy tears coming out of your eyes.

You couldn't believe this. In front of you was your dream car, C/B. in your favorite color! Were you dreaming?

"Happy early anniversary, babygirl." said Sad Eyes happily and he hands you the car keys.

You croaked as you saw the car you wanted forever in your life in your hands. You started to cry hard, making your boyfriend concerned real quick.

"Y/N? What's wrong? You don't like it? I can get you a another and-"

"No!"

His eyes widened by your sudden burst. You wipe your eyes and you look at your best boyfriend ever.

"Happy tears. Thank you." you cried as you went over to him and jumped into his arms.

Sad Eyes quickly grabs your waist and holds you up as you hug him tight around your night.

"Why? How? When?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I know you wanted this for so long so that's why I was always out. I'm sorry for being distant from you when I should've been the boyfriend you deserve." he confesses as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Awe, babe. I didn't know. I didn't mean to snap on you earlier. I thought you didn't want to be with me any more so you were with another girl than being with the gang like you said you were." you confronted as you clasped his hands with yours.

"Dinah? Baby, that's Spooky's girl. I'm sorry if it did look like that. I was only with her because she helped me get the car for you. I would never be with anybody else but you. You're my world and my everything. And hopefully one day, you'll have my last name." he said with determination and love in his eyes.

"I will have your last name. I ain't planning to be with anybody else but you." you said with a warm smile, making him smile back.

"Ready to ride?" asked Sad Eyes with a grin on his face.

"Yesss!" you drawled out loudly as you quickly jog up to your dream car in heels, making Sad Eyes laughing at your silliness.

You got in the driver's seat as he got in the passenger's seat. You started it and your eyes widened in excitement at the sound of the engine.

Sad Eyes starts to stare at your adorable self as you are looking at all of the different features of your dream car and trying some of them.

You feel his stare and you turn to him with waggling eyebrows and a goofy grin on your face.

"What are you staring at?" you asked with a fixed gaze at your staring boyfriend.

"The most beautiful girl in the world." he said with his flirtatious behavior.

"Oh my gosh, you can be so clingy sometimes." you said while giggling, causing him to chuckle with you.

"It's only with you. I can't help it." he blushed while covering his face with his hands and wiping it off.

"I don't mind. I love it and you." you said as you made eye contact with him.

"I love you too, hermosa."

Both of you leaned in and did a passionate kiss. You felt butterflies going through your body all over again like the first time you ever kissed him.

The feeling never fails and you want to experience it only with him forever.

#on my block imagine #OnMyBlock #on my block x reader #angelbaby x on my block #sad eyes #sad eyes omb #sad eyes imagine #sad eyes on my block #oscardiaz #oscar spooky diaz #spooky #spooky omb #spooky diaz #cesardiaz #rubymartinez #jasmine flores #OMB #santos omb

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firemblem-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Smitten Kitten [Finale]

one | two | three | four | finale

-> Pairing: Felix x Female!Reader | Hybrid!AU (mostly platonic idk)

-> Warnings: Abuse mentions, Like Two Sex Jokes, Yelling

-> Genre: Angst, Fluff

-> Word Count: 1.6k

-> Summary: You never wanted to be involved with hybrids. They were risky and had too many rules for you. But what will you do when a little black and white cat that you take in turns out to be the very thing you steered clear of?

-> A/N: Okay so the more i wrote this the more i realized it was more platonic than anything and also it barely fucking features felix and i’m just very unhappy with it i suppose ... maybe in the future i’ll rewrite idk i’m really sorry for this i kinda hate it but i’ve been working on it for so long i didn’t want to make people wait longer

Soon, the bell rang once more and you turned your head, finally making eye contact with those red eyes you'd been longing to see for weeks.

"Fe!" You nearly stumbled forward as you rushed towards the hybrid, your heart leaping as you reached out to-

"Don't touch him!"

Karen's shrill voice was like an invisible wall that was keeping you away from Felix. You almost shrunk back as she yelled, but you stood tall. The Hybrid Services needed to see that you were strong and fully capable of taking care of Felix and you were determined to do just that.

You only looked at Felix expectantly. He went to walk over to you, but was stopped with an extremely harsh tug on his leash. He hissed at Doug, who was talking to an HPS officer with a hardened gaze.

Karen, on the other hand, walked coolly up to you. "What's your problem?" She sneered.

"My problem? You're hurting Felix."

"We're just disciplining him," She rolled her eyes, "Sometimes a savage animal needs a few hits to get the rules in their head. Felix plays too many games that we don't feel like dealing with."

"Then why do you keep him?"

"Have you seen the boy? He's gorgeous. He's won multiple awards and thousands of dollars at Hybrid Shows. A bit of pain is worth the prize."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "He's gorgeous, yeah? Is that why you felt the need to cover his bruises with makeup? I took care of Felix for two months and he never caused any trouble. He was polite, respectful, thoughtful, and never once did he need to be 'punished'. He's not the problem- you are."

"Why you-"

"Mr. and Mrs..." An officer called the couple away from you. He began showing them all of the messages between you and Felix- proof of their wrongs.

You, on the other hand, turned to the cat-boy and finished what you started, throwing your arms around his torso and squeezing him tightly. In return, Felix only stiffened up. He didn't know where to put his hands, choosing to rest them on your shoulders as his chin laid on the crown of your head. You only got a few seconds of alone time before another pair of arms wrapped around the two of you.

"How sweet, a reunion! I'm sniffing out a kiss and some 'I missed you' sex later on- OW!"

Felix's hand went from your shoulder to Sylvain's stomach, stopping him in his sentence. "Go fuck yourself."

"Only if you watch me~"

You laughed, pulling back from the hug and looking over at Ashe, who was now engaged in a conversation with one of the HPS officers. You were more than thankful to have him at your side. Ashe had gone through the same little trial to get custody of Sylvain, so he was more than willing to help you get Felix out of his shitty situation as well.

Ashe had explained to you how Hybrid cases worked. Evidence would be presented to officers or a Hybrid Facilitator, such as Nancy, and they would make the call as to what happens next. You would be presenting evidence of Karen and Doug’s abuse to them and asking for Felix to be placed in your care. Lucky for you, Felix could speak on your behalf as well since he had stayed with you for two months.

You were scared. Felix was a big boy. He hid his emotions and stayed strong throughout the shit that his owners put him through, but even the strongest people have their limits. Unfortunately for you, Felix was still a hybrid. Legally considered an animal and treated as even less.

You couldn’t give him the freedom that he deserved, but you would try your damn hardest to give him a happy life.

You nearly teared up thinking about it and Felix must have noticed, for amidst his and Sylvain’s bickering he subtly placed his hand on the small of your back. It stayed there when the officers gathered everyone together, letting both sides present their cases. You spoke first.

“Two months ago, I found a little black and white cat in a dumpster. He was cold, hungry, and unhappy. I took him in and learned later on that he was Felix. Felix stayed with me for two months. I was under the presumption that he was kicked out of his old home- that was what he had told me, anyways.” That earned you a glare from the man beside you. “But I sheltered him for about two months, waiting for someone to come looking for him. They never did, so I took him here to get some papers filled out and make him legally… mine.”

You spat out the last word. God, did you hate the idea of having a human as a pet. Felix’s thumb brushed your back again, providing you with his own quiet form of comfort and amping you up to continue.

“I came, got some papers, and left. I should have known that he would have had papers under Doug and Karen’s name, but since I believed that they no longer wanted him, I went ahead and took ownership. Then they came up to my door later that day and took him. He had actually run away from them.

Felix put up a fight at first- he didn’t want to go. I gave him Sylvain, the other hybrid’s, phone so that he could still message me if he needed anything. The minute he left, he sent me a voice recording of those two screaming at him in the car. Since then, all of those messages had been sent as evidence that Karen and Doug have threatened him and harmed him emotionally, verbally, and physically. I want Felix to stay with me. They called him a behavioral issue, but I know how to treat him. I’ve never had an issue with him. Ever. I want full ownership of Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

Nancy nodded and pointed to the couple, who were fuming on the other side of the room. Karen practically stormed up to Nancy and the officers, her face redder than Sylvain’s hair and voice more annoying than Sylvain himself.

“She obviously stole Felix from us!”

“What the fuck?” Said hybrid suddenly interrupted. An officer shushed him and motioned for Karen to continue.

“Felix is an award-winning, purebred Fraldarius tuxedo cat. He’s won thousands of dollars in prize money and trophies and awards, so of course a lower class girl like her would want such a high end Hybrid. He would win her money. She could have easily turned him into the facility, but she didn’t, so she stole him from us!”’

Karen had a point- you should have turned Felix in, but you couldn’t. The little cat had wormed his way into your heart more and more every day- even if he was kind of an ass in the beginning.

He still is an ass, but a little less now. You knew that when his arm moved from your back to around your shoulders, thumb now soothing the skin there.

“Wh- I didn’t even know he was a show cat until you two showed up and told me!” You defended. His hand gripped tighter as if already trying to hold you back. You were rather ready to tear this lady to shreds, honestly, so he was helping.

“You’re such a little liar- and those videos, too! They’re obviously fake. You don’t deserve Felix, you deserve to be jailed for stealing our precious prize!”

“Prize?! You don’t even see him as a real being with feelings and emotions or anything! Look-“ You suddenly licked your thumb, turning around and swiping underneath Felix’s eye. “He’s got bruises that you gave him and hid. Your face and fist are in that video. I’ve got selfies I took of him and I when he was in my care- there are no injuries, so they obviously happened in your care.”

“And how do they know you didn’t use makeup to hide the bruises you gave him?” Karen accused. God, she really was going the extra mile here. “Listen, little bitch, Felix is ours and he will be if I have to pry it from your little dead fingers.”

“You won’t lay a hand on her.” Felix speaks up. He turns to Nancy and sighs. “I wasn’t going to say anything because my pride heavily prevented me, but I am afraid of Karen and Doug. They have abused me in the last few years that I’ve been in their care and I can’t do it anymore. I can recount every single instance where they have harmed me and I will gladly do it if it means I can get the hell away from them and go with people who actually treat me well.” His face stayed straight as he spoke, his eyes hardened in a desperate attempt to show everyone how he wasn’t affected. Felix never was one to show his feelings- you were proud that he did this.

The officers, who had stayed silent for the entire time, looked at each other.

One sighed and spoke up. “You two are under arrest for Hybrid cruelty and will be investigated further and punished as charged.” He turned to you, “Do you mind if we keep the phone for a while to extract evidence?”

“I mind-“

“Not at all.” You cut off Sylvain, “He can go a little longer without his phone. He needs to go longer.”

The officer thanked you and led the two away, nearly kicking and screaming.

Nancy watched as they left, typing some things into her computer before standing up. “If any of you can follow me to the back, I need to put the proper information on a new collar tag.”

Ashe volunteered and dragged Sylvain back with him, leaving you and Felix alone at the front. You turned back to him and slipped your arms around his waist once more. Felix looked around, making sure nobody was near before holding you back properly this time. A purr erupted from his throat- quiet, but soothing as your ear was pressed against his chest.

“You’re coming home, Fe.”

“I’m already home right here with you.”

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aggressivedean · 4 years ago

Text

Suptober20: Day 27: Banquet

wc: 1700

It’s going to be the burger to end all burgers. It’s going to be the burger to RULE all burgers. He’s the King of Burgers; it was meant to be.

Dean hadn’t been able to focus on his classes all day because he was too preoccupied with plans for a cook-off that he had somehow let himself be roped into. As a college kid, he prided himself on his excellent cooking skills, especially since most of the guys around his age tended to live off of microwave meals 5 days a week and takeout on the weekends. Like really? They were seniors in college, time to learn how to use a stove and if you’re lucky enough to be renting a house like Dean is, maybe even a grill!

Dean knew he excelled at grilling, He used to watch his dad tend to burgers, hot dogs, ribs, anything. He was all too eager to learn once he hit high school and his dad finally trusted him to not burn the house back deck while grilling a patty.

That was why Dean was going to absolutely demolish Benny at their cook-off.

Dean was sharing a rental house with Benny, Castiel, and some random lucky freshman who got randomly assigned to their empty bedroom. Thankfully, Jack was a good kid, if a bit weird. Hell, Cas was weird too and that hadn't stopped them from being fast friends since freshman year. He met Benny at a summer job the summer before sophomore year and they made plans to live together soon after.

Also among the audience were Charlie and Jo, two of the best gals Dean ever had the luck of meeting.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the clock and saw the minute hand tick over to 3:00. Class was finally over! He bolted for the door and all but ran to his car parked halfway across campus. He had to get to the store asap to make sure he had time to gather all his ingredients.

An hour later and Dean was back at his house, ingredients stowed in the fridge, just waiting to be used. Dinner would be served right at 6:00, so he was planning on starting around 5:30--that way the burgers would still be nice and hot. Benny was already working in the kitchen; his meal of choice was a southern gumbo. Kind of cliche really. But who was he to talk, name something more American than a burger. Dean rolled his eyes at himself.

After finishing up some homework, the time had finally come to cook. He threw on his apron, it said “Mr. Good Lookin is Cookin” and had been a bit of a gag gift from Charlie last Christmas, but he loved it. Dean prepared 6 perfect patties and set out for the grill. Medium rare was the only valid way to eat a burger, everybody knew that. Dean couldn't help grinning with joy at hearing the sizzle of the meat first hit the grill. Benny doesn’t even know what's coming for him, Dean thought to himself.

Charlie and Jo came around the corner into the backyard just as Dean was flipping the patties.

“What up bitch!” Charlie yelled as she threw up a peace sign. Dean gave a big smile.

“Hello ladies!”

The girls laughed and came up the stairs, trying to peek at the grill and steal his spatula. He chuckled when he grabbed his trusty spatula back from Charlie. “Hey hey I need that! It’s my magic weapon.” He flourished the spatula in front of the grill with a cheeky smile and an exaggerated wink.

Jo groaned and dragged Charlie towards the door to the house, “Ugh, c’mon Charlie, before he starts talking about grill temperatures or something.” Dean watched as the girls disappeared inside, surely headed to give Benny an equally playful greeting. He shook his head and turned back to his burgers, thinking that tonight would be a proper banquet among friends. Well, without any frilly outfits, Dean thought. That made it even better.

6:00 arrived. Time for the showdown.

Dean and Benny were leaning against the opposite countertops in the kitchen, 6 arranged dishes sitting next to each. Dean gave Benny a smug look. “I’m gonna blow your gumbo all the way back to Louisiana.”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Oh you wish brother. I’ll have them all convinced to come move down south after just one sweet sweet bite.”

Dean tried his best to give a menacing look but it was tough while still wearing a silly apron, which he gathered from the snort Benny gave.

“All right!” Came a voice from the dining table-Jo. “Order up!” Dean heard excited voices break out, and could pick out the low rumbles of Cas’ voice. Dean hadn’t even seen him come in, apparently.

Dean picked up as many plates as he could carry (4, thankfully, one for each actual guest) and put on his most dazzling smile to head to the dining table. “Whoooooo’s hungry?” He called, and was greeting with the drumming of hands on the wooden table. He carefully set a plate in front of Charlie, Jo, Jack, and finally, Cas. Taking extra care at the end. Cas glanced up at him with a soft smile and a quiet “Thank you.”

Benny entered at the next moment, with a large tray to hold all four bowls of gumbo. “You all are about to taste Louisiana heaven,” he drawled. There was more pounding on the table and smiles once everyone had each dish in front of them. Dean and Benny served themselves last and finally sat at either end of the table. Cas was to Dean’s right and he had a great view of his profile. Cas suddenly turned to him.

“So Dean,” he began, “can you tell us what you’ve prepared for us today?” Dean didn’t want to look away from that piercing blue but was drawn by the eyes of the table turning to him. He cleared his throat.

“What you have is a perfect medium rare high quality beef burger, topped with cheese, bacon, a fried egg, and lettuce and tomato for you to eat at your discretion.” The condiments were already on the table and he could see Jo eying the hot sauce for some reason. “How about you, Benny?

The southerner leaned back in his seat. “Well, ladies and gents, there is so much goin’ on in this gumbo I’d be here all day telling you what's in it, but I already spent all day cookin’ it, so let’s just eat.” He finished with a slow smile and was met by whoops from the girls and a few claps from Jack.

Dean took a moment to watch everyone else enjoy their first bites. Jo and Jack started with the gumbo, Charlie and Cas went for the burger. As soon as the first bites hit tastebuds the whole table seemed to let out a groan of satisfaction. Dean beamed at that, and felt that content feeling in his chest at treating his friends right (and soon to be proving burgers are better than gumbo). His eyes landed on Cas and followed the journey of Cas’ thumb as he wiped a bit of ketchup off his lip. Dean wondered how he managed to make a ketchup smudge look good. He tuned back in to Charlie slapping a hand on his arm.

“Dean. Oh my god. This burger is changing my life. I might just kiss you.” Her eyes sparkled and Dean laughed.

“Please don’t, that'll just be uncomfortable for all of us!” They shared a laugh and Dean returned his focus to the two options in front of him. Well, he already knew the burger was amazing, but he didn’t know about the gumbo yet. He set up a nice hefty spoonful of the stuff and down it went.

Wow. Okay, Dean had to admit Benny knew his way around a gumbo. An explosion of seasonings, chicken AND shrimp, and a hefty amount of spice to boot? Dean really couldn’t complain. He caught Benny’s eye from across the table and gave him a smirk. “It’s alright.”

Benny threw his head back in a laugh. “Brother, by the look on your face I know its better than alright.” There was a chorus of “oooo”s from the table and Dean shook his head. What was this, middle school? The feeling didn’t last too long as soon enough everyone had tried both dishes and both cooks were being heaped with praise from the four guests. Dean ate nearly as much as he could stomach but wished he had more room just so he could keep tasting such an excellent meal.

The conversation flowed and eventually everyone had eaten their fill. They each had leftovers, that was for sure. There was a lull in conversation and Cas spoke up.

“Before we pick our favorite chef for the night, we actually have one more entry to consider.” He stood up from the table and Dean tried to catch his eye to ask what the hell but he only saw a mischievous glint and Cas was gone. He looked around the table and everyone else seemed just as confused as he was.

“I thought just you two were cooking tonight.” Jack said, and tilted his head to look between Dean and Benny. Dean just shrugged in response. He had no idea what was going on here. Neither did Benny, by the raised eyebrow he was shooting Dean’s way.

Cas came back from the kitchen holding something in a round dish covered by a towel. He set it down and removed the towel with a flourish. “Ta-daa! A final entry of one apple pie.” Dean’s jaw dropped as he stared at a pie that looked absolutely heavenly. He gazed with awe at Cas, who seemed very smug with himself.

“Dude. When did you do this?” Dean asked, and everyone echoed his statement. Cas raised a hand for quiet.

“I made it at my brothers apartment today. I wanted to keep is a surprise so I knew I couldn't make it here. I kept it in the oven really low for a bit so it would still be warm after dinner.” Cas met Dean’s gaze almost shyly. “So...enjoy!”

Dean couldn't help but feel like the words were directed at him and his stomach gave a small flutter. Could pie make him fall for Cas?

Benny was the first one to cut a slice, everyone else quickly followed suit. Before Dean could cut himself a piece, Cas slide a plate in front of him, full of a lovely slice of pie.”Thanks, man.” Cas nodded and got another slice for himself.

The first bite hitting Dean’s tongue was incredible. He knew pies could taste good but not this good. He couldn't help the groan he let out, and he heard Charlie utter “same. This is crazy good Cas.”

Jo nodded a few times in agreement, her mouth too full to respond. Benny gave an admiring whistle. “You sure know your way around an apple pie Cas; never thought you were the type.”

Cas accepted the praise with a shy smile. “I just thought it might be fun to make one. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.”

“Buddy,” Dean said, “enjoying it is an understatement.”

That made Cas break into a full-blown smile.

So the night went that they were all full of burger and gumbo and the most excellent pie. And it turns out with a three way tie between who made the best dish, turns out they would have to have another round a different time to narrow it down; with new dishes this time. Except Cas, it was agreed, Cas absolutely had to make the pie again.

#suptober20 #banquet #a bit of. a variation #I actually started this w few weeks ago #but now I got to finish it at the behest of a prompt #I just love pals having a good time #I did not proof read this so please be nice to my mistakes #I can edit in the morning #my writing #my words

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pathetic-has-been-rockstar · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Warmth

Pairing: Crowely x reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square filled: sharing a bed

Warnings: none

Summary: Chuck is gone, Amara is in charge, and the world is finally free. You're heading to the bunker for the first proper Christmas celebration with Team Free Will, but you're forced to stop along the way. When the former King of Hell shows up, you manage to surprise him, and discover a new side of the demon.

Words: 2644

Beta: @raspberrymama

my work can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

-------------------------------------------------------------

The road to the bunker is pretty long, and the radio doesn't bring reassuring news. Apparently, there's a snow storm raging somewhere, and the roads aren't going to be open for long.

With a sigh, you peek at your car's clock. It's well past nine, and you're hungry and tired, so you decide to pull over at the first motel sign you see. You book a room, head to the gas station next to the motel and buy a couple of sandwiches, a cupcake and a couple of soft drinks. You're in the mood for some beer, but you're tired enough as it is.

Walking back to your room, you make a call.

“Hey there, Dean!”

“Kid! We were starting to worry. Where are you?” You smile at the concern in his voice. Since Chuck is gone and things have changed, he became almost overprotective in regards to his little found family.

“Still a state over. Snow storm raging, closed lanes. I've managed to snatch the last room in a motel, tomorrow morning things should be better.”

“Crap. I'm sorry. Anything we can do?”

“Nah, don't worry. I'll have some food and hit the bed, it's been a hell of a drive so far”, you quietly thank yourself for being reasonable and driving something maybe less fascinating but definitely more comfortable than the Impala. Dean's voice brings you back shortly.

“Take some rest and stay safe, ok? We'll check in tomorrow, but you keep us updated”.

“Won't miss. Night guys.”

You quickly hang up and walk in your room. It's pretty cold, close to the road, and the bed doesn't look really comfortable, but it still beats the idea of sleeping on some shoulder of the road.

Once you're done with your dinner, you try to turn on the tv, but it doesn't work, just like the heating, apparently. Bored and slightly frustrated, you make yourself a cup of tea using the courtesy set, then pick up your phone and send a text.

A moment later, a familiar British accent rings behind you.

“Hello, darling.”

You turn around in your chair, smiling at the king of Hell. As usual, he's clad in black, looking both impeccable and mildly bored.

“Hello, Crowley. How are you?”

“I'm curious, actually. How can I help my favourite non-hunter on this fair night?”

The day he won't tease you about the fact that you still refuse to label yourself as a hunter will be the day Hell freezes over, probably. You laugh it off, and make your request, hoping he's in a good mood.

“Do you have a way to bring me to the bunker that's not through a snowstorm?”

He tilts his head, looking at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I need to get to the bunker, but the snow...”

“Do I look like a bloody taxi service to you?”

Alright, he's not in a good mood. You shake your head, feeling the tiredness of the day washing over you, and you shift a bit in the chair.

“You don't have enough juice anymore, do you?”

He gives you a cold glance, and doesn't even bother denying. He pulls up a chair and sits, stretching his legs under the table and looking at you.

“Why are you in a rush to get there, anyway? As far as I know, the Wonder Brothers are on holiday break.”

“Yes, they are. I'm part of that break.”

He looks surprised, then he pouts for a second before talking, like he does when something doesn't go the way he wants.

“Of course you are. Well... since you summoned me for a stupid request, I'll take advantage of it. Which means... I'm staying here.”

You choke a little at the idea. You're not going to complain about spending a night with him, but the idea of doing it like that, without anything to steal, hunt, or kill just feels a bit weird. It's also the first time that you two spend time together alone after the whole Chuck affair and his return from the Empty.

“The whole night?”

He nods, eyeing the bed with a smirk you know too well.

“You fear we'll run out of things to do, love?”

“Oh, please. It's freezing in here.”

“One more reason to take advantage of the bearer of Hellfire, love.”

You laugh off his swagger and take it for what it is: the very essence of Crowley, and a clear attempt to play his favourite game of making people uncomfortable. Then, you remember something.

“Yeah, sure. Hang on, I gotta pick up something from my car.”

You grab the keys of your car and rush out of the room, leaving a very bemused Crowley behind you.

That's not how he was expecting a nightly summoning to go... nor what he was hoping for. You don't seem particularly interested in replaying that only night in which you fell between his arms, but that doesn't mean he won't play his cards to get there.

He walks to the table and picks up the cup of what looks like tea, but smells like chemicals and bad food colouring, until he hears you stepping back in the room and closing the door behind you.

“Here.”

Crowley raises his nose from your cup of “tea”, which he was curiously smelling, and looks at you with a confused expression.

“... what... what’s that?”

“A box. Inside it, there’s a thing I’d like you to have on my behalf. It’s called a present, or gift. Mortals do this thing of exchanging them at Christmas. Remember that?”

“... you got me a present. A... a Christmas present.”

“Yeah.”

“You... got the King of Hell a Christmas present.”

“Former king of Hell, last time I checked. If you don’t want it I can always take it back, you know.”

Setting the cup back on the counter, Crowley’s stare shifts from your hands holding the box to your face, studying your features. You seem good willed enough.

“I didn’t say that”, he mumbles.

“Well, take it, then. Careful, it’s fragile.”

Crowley finally takes the box from you, brushing your fingers with his ones in doing so, and noticing the slight pink tingeing your cheeks for a moment.

The box is wrapped in brown paper, but you drew a geometric pattern on it, snowflakes-shaped. Then, watching more carefully, Crowley sees a pitchfork here and there in the middle of the snowflakes, and he smiles. You really put some effort in that, and you're glad he seems to appreciate it.

“You surely do have a certain sense of humour, kitten.”

“There’s not a single good enough reason to be dull”, you brush off his compliment, but it surely flatters you.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

With a snap of his fingers, the wrapping paper opens without tearing, making you smile. You stand, awkward, and watch Crowley carefully examining the wooden box in his hands, until he sees the name branded on it. Immediately, he grins. You certainly know him.

“Kitten, of all the surprising things you could have done, this goes easily up in the top ten.”

“I am surprising, after all.”

You shrug, awkward. You're happy that he liked the present, but you keep hoping that he won’t ask you the most obvious question, the one whirring through your mind since you decided to give him one bottle of the finest whisky in the world.

“Indeed. Just... why?”

“One of my clients saw a bottle you left at the store and asked me if I was interested in whisky. I treat him pretty well, so he sent me a couple of these, and I thought you might like it.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“It's just... tradition, you know?”

Crowley shakes his head, carefully setting the bottle on the table of the motel. You both are well aware that what you gave him is rare, coveted, and incredibly expensive. It surely is not a token exchanged to respect a tradition.

“No, it's not. And you put me in a difficult position, now. I haven't gotten you anything.”

You smile, a bit disappointed by the fact that he deemed that present as a formality.

“It's fine, actually. You must be terrible with presents.”

“Pardon?”

“Of course. You were a king, used to being revered and obeyed... when was the last time you gave someone a present, just because you felt like doing it? And don't mention paying Dean's bar tabs, that doesn't count. It must be something you picked out, not a deal.”

Crowley thinks about it for a second, then scoffs. You got him, and yet he's not particularly bothered. There's something in the way you tease him that he really likes. Perhaps it's because you're not scared of him, or maybe because you don't seem conflicted about him. No awkward shuffling and senseless musings about right or wrong. Even after your night together, you simply moved on, like you would have done with any other one-time lover... even if perhaps he didn't exactly appreciate that.

“Alright, kitten, you got me. But I'm sure that, if I had a chance, I could certainly surprise you with a nice present”.

“Ah, now. I gave you something... it's already impossible to be spontaneous.”

“I don't think this game has fair rules.”

You laugh and relax on the uncomfortable chair. “Of course it doesn't. Christmas is a very tactical time of the year. If I surprise you with a present, you will be forced to be nice to me until next Christmas. I'm an evil genius in a very hot body.”

He laughs, his eyes roaming your forms.

“While I can definitely see that... I'm sorry, love, but you lack conviction.”

“Meaning what?”

“I am quite the epitome of the villain... and that speech lacks the necessary emphasis to be believable. In fact, I think you like Christmas quite a lot, and you took real pleasure in giving me something.”

“I've never been so insulted in my life!” you mock him, making him laugh. You've always taken a certain pride in being the one able to make Crowley genuinely laugh, and his humour is one of the things you appreciate most of him.

He snaps his fingers and conjures two crystal glasses from thin air. They're made of crystal, finely etched, and you recognize them as a part of his personal collection, one you've often seen in his hand. He gives you a questioning look.

“... what is it, your highness?”

“I was wondering how upset you'd be if I were to share my present with you.”

You think about it for a second, then solemnly look back at him.

“You know... I think a quality check is in order.”

“Just what I thought. Let's see if mister Gordon and mister MacPhail have honoured fifty years of ageing.”

When Crowley pours you your whisky, you immediately take a deep breath of it, studying the articulate aroma. You rarely had the chance of drinking something this old, and you're always curious about it.

The first note is sweet, like apple and honey, followed by a hint of smoke, and that promise is kept when, after a proper toast with your favourite demon, you indulge your dram. The sweet and thick taste is balanced by a sour note, and it leaves a peaty finish on your tongue. After the first few sips, it's already going to your head, and you lick your lips. The smoky finish reminds you of something similar, far more tempting.

Something that's currently sitting in front of you, telling of a deal he made with the owner of a distillery in the Speyside, a couple of centuries ago. You try to engage in conversation, at first, but time flies, the bottle empties more and more, and pretty soon you're half asleep.

You almost miss his laughter when he stands up and places his hands on your shoulders, helping you up on your feet. You protest weakly, closing your eyes.

“Come on, kitten. Let's get you to bed.”

“... no... I don't want to, it's cold...”

“I'll see to it. Do you trust me?”

The warm voice purring to your ear is a dream, a promise of comfort and warmth that you’re not willing to give up, but you also know you’re not supposed to indulge.

“... I shouldn't...”

“But do you?”

You drop your head on his shoulder, rubbing your face against the fabric of his suits while you nod.

“... yes.”

“And thanks to Christmas magic, this time you won't pay for this mistake.”

Crowley laughs next to your ear while he effortlessly carries you to bed. With a snap of his fingers he takes off your shoes and clothes, substituting them with a comfortable flannel pyjama.

You curl up under the thin sheets, shivering in the cold bed, and close your eyes, trying to relax. You hear another snap of fingers and you feel Crowley slipping in the sheets behind you, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

You'd like to protest, but he's too warm, and you're tired. All you manage to do is let out a muffled sound, before snuggling closer to him and falling asleep right away. You enjoy the best night of sleep you had in months.

The following morning, you open your eyes and, for a second, you don't see anything. It takes you a moment to realize that you must have turned in your sleep, and your face is now pressed against Crowley's chest. One of your arms is folded between you, while the other is draped on his side. You pull back, suddenly awkward, making him laugh. Your breath hitches imperceptibly when you feel the soft rumble shaking his chest, but you hope he didn't notice.

“Morning, love.”

“I... hi. How... how are we... did we...”

Crowley runs a hand through your hair, pulling them away from your face. “We shared the only bed, yes. I think we could have done something more interesting, but you were drunk, and quite exhausted.”

“I wasn't drunk, just... never mind. What time is it?”

“Barely 9. We still have plenty of time to get to the bunker.”

“... we?”

The kiss on your forehead is so light that you wonder if you imagined the light prickle of his beard on your skin, but Crowley lingers there for a moment before answering your question.

“You surely need a copilot to get there in one piece, and you can't die while you're one up on me.”

You finally chuckle and slowly, very slowly, you disentangle yourself from Crowley. One of his hands moves on your side, and his fingers sink in the fabric covering your skin. The shiver running down your back has very little to do with the room temperature.

“... alright, you can come with me, then. Let me just take a shower and...”

“No rush, love. Actually, why don't we...”

Your phone buzzing furiously on the nightstand interrupts Crowley. You give him an apologizing look, then grab your phone and pick the call, groaning.

“Yeah?... yes, Dean, I... alright, sure. Thanks. I'll get going”. You hang up and turn to Crowley, blushing. “He... he heard that the roads are open, but the weather cast says it's snowing again this afternoon. We'd better get on the road.”

Before he can say anything, you stand up, grab your bag and walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. On the good side, you're so confused and excited that you barely notice the cold. On the bad side, you're so confused and excited that you almost try to use your mouthwash as skin tonic.

Crowley , still lying on the bed, smirks at the stained ceiling. He's seen how nervous you are around him, and he congratulates himself on his decision to come with you at the bunker. He's never been a fan of holidays, but it looks like things might change soon.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost my works or part/s of it on different places, not even if you give credits.

#spnchristmasbingo #reblog #crowley x reader #spnfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fluff #christmas fluff #crowley x fem reader

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wherepoetswentodie · 4 years ago

Text

This is a thing I’m working on that will not see the light of day for ages because I feel guilty for being bad at updating and also this seems to be the only thing my brain likes to write at the minute so

----

Connor McKinley did not see the point in health class, virtual baby dolls (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and going to BYU in the fall. What he was going to do, however, was go to health class, look after a virtual baby doll (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and pretend he was going to BYU when (if) his parents asked, but actually get into the University of Michigan.

But as he sat in health class - a class of six people, so he wasn’t sure it could even be called a class - he was beginning to think that maybe he’d prefer to be at BYU. Which may or may not have been a death sentence for him. He had never quite worked out how homophobic it really was and hoped that he never would have to.

“Do you think this teacher is ever going to turn up?” Nabulungi, his best friend and ‘girlfriend’ when his aunties were curious, asked.

“I hope not,” Connor sighed, “I don’t trust babies,”

“They’re not real babies,”

“Somehow that makes it worse,”

He glanced around the class, trying to remember if anyone there had ever thrown homophobic abuse his way. Chris Thomas and James Church definitely hadn’t, considering they were his best friends and Chris was practically sat in James’ lap. He looked towards the back of the room and immediately groaned, shocked that he hadn’t heard Arnold Cunningham before he’d seen him. Or maybe his best friend, and unfortunately attractive republican, Kevin Price had finally worked out how to keep him quiet.

Connor might have actually tried to talk to him if it weren’t for the fact that his dad was the (incredibly homophobic) Governor of Utah

“Arnold Cunningham is in this class,” Connor muttered to Nabulungi who immediately brightened up and turned around to grin at him.

“He’s cute,” she whispered.

“No.” Connor said, “Nabulungi. No. Don’t. No. Don’t even look at me. I can’t believe - him? You think he’s cute?”

Nabulungi rolled her eyes and suddenly had a coughing fit that sounded an awful lot like “Steve Blade,”. Connor tutted and turned back to the front of class, if not just so he could pretend that his best friend didn’t have a crush on Arnold Cunningham of all people. He thought that he’d be able to deal with her liking Kevin, and that would probably come with a healthy dosage of hate crimes for all involved.

“You know if the teacher doesn’t turn up in 15 minutes we’re legally allowed to leave,” Arnold piped up.

Connor rolled his eyes and Nabulungi had the nerve to laugh and turn around to talk to him. Deciding that he should try and stop her before things got too serious, Connor turned around, only to lock eyes with Kevin who was looking between Nabulungi and Arnold like he’d never seen them before. Or maybe he was just shocked that someone was actually showing interest in Arnold. Perhaps he was just glad to find someone who might take Arnold off his hands. Connor had never really understood why the two of them were friends.

“You know Naba likes Arnold?” Connor whispered to Chris and James.

James frowned at him, “Who do you think she was out with when she couldn’t come out with us last weekend?”

Connor gaped at him, “Seriously? Are they - Are they dating?”

“I hate you,” Chris said, “Do you ever listen to any of us? That was their first date!”

“I thought she was joking,” Connor muttered, slumping in his seat and trying to block out the sounds of his best friend flirting with someone who dressed up as Luke Skywalker when he went to Comic-Con.

God, he hoped that Nabulungi wasn’t going to start going to Comic-Con with him. He was pretty sure that he’d have to stage an intervention. A little bit like the one that she had staged for Chris after his sugar addiction had stopped being a cute personality trait and had become a genuine health concern.

“Did you ask me to take this class because of Arnold?” Connor asked quietly.

“No, I asked you because someone needed another class to graduate or someone won’t be tap dancing around Michigan next year,”

“Are you going to Michigan, buddy? So’s Kevin!” Arnold said excitedly.

Connor froze and turned around to look at Kevin, who’s eyes were also wide, “University of Michigan or Michigan State?”

“University of Michigan,” Kevin said quietly, “You?”

“Same,” Connor mumbled, “I’m guessing you’re not doing musical theatre?”

“Probably economics. Or business. Or whatever else it is republicans do,” Chris said, “Oppress minorities?”

Before Kevin could argue back, presumably to tell them that he wasn’t going to be majoring in oppressing minorities because Connor didn’t think that was a valid major (if it was, he was definitely going to the wrong university), the door opened and their teacher, Mr. Name-Connor-Couldn’t- Be -Bothered- To- Learn walked in.

And even though Connor wasn’t going to bother to learn his name, he was thankful that he was their teacher. He was old, and retiring that year, which meant that he was long passed caring about actually teaching and would most likely pass them all without even looking over any of their work. They had basically signed up for another free period, and Connor was already planning on using this hour to work on his book and maybe even convince James to take some new headshots for him. Surely looking after a fake baby doll wasn’t going to be that hard. There was probably an off button that Connor was more than prepared to utilise.

“Get in pairs,” the teacher grumbled at them, “I don’t care who,”

Connor turned to Nabulungi with the intent to ask if she would grant him the honour of being the mother of his baby, just as she turned to Arnold to ask if he would be the father of her baby. He watched in horror as Arnold gleefully nodded his head and proceeded to stand behind Connor’s chair in a way that he understood meant ‘Please move’.

“Chris,” Connor said quickly, “Wanna-”

“No can do, buddy!” Chris said brightly, “Price needs a partner though,”

“I hate you both,” Connor told them before sitting in the seat that Arnold had previously.

The fact that Kevin didn’t seem all too excited about their predicament didn’t make Connor feel much better. Sure, he didn’t want to partnered with Kevin, but that was because he didn’t want to work with a raging homophobe and Kevin probably didn’t want to be partnered with him because he didn’t want to work with a raging homosexual.

Not that Connor really thought that he was a raging homosexual, but he had long since learned that homophobic republicans (Governor Price sprang to mind), didn’t see a difference between the tiny pride pin that Connor dared pin to his jackets and the Drag Queens that worked in gay bars. It was oddly progressive, in a way.

“Can you at least pretend to not hate me?” Kevin asked, “It’s not my fault Arnold’s dating your best friend,”

Connor rolled his eyes, “Can you actually not hate me? It’s not my fault I’m gay,”

Kevin glared at him for a second before he stood up to go and grab a baby off Mr. What's-His-Face’s desk. He completely bypassed the lone ginger baby in favour of one with dark hair, which Connor took as the first hate crime of the project. Perhaps he could do a second, smaller project on the side where he kept a tally of how many hate crimes Kevin committed over the next week.

And when Mr. Name-Connor-Really-Should-Learn told them that they would have to stay over at each other's houses in an attempt to really drive home the experience of parenthood, Connor predicted that the final total of hate crimes would be a lot.

“Sir?” Kevin said, sticking his hand in the air, “Why do we have to stay at each other's houses?”

“Because, Callum, we don’t want to encourage single parenthood,”

“My names Kevin,” he said impatiently, “But you’ll encourage gay parenthood?”

“He didn’t mean it like that!” Arnold said quickly, turning around to glare furiously at his best friend, “He just - He meant...He meant from like a Mormon point of view,”

“So still a homophobic point of view?” James asked lightly, “I’m not gonna sit and listen to him whilst he constantly attacks who I am!”

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Kevin snapped, “I’m just - my dad would-”

“-kill us all given the chance?” Chris said.

“My dad wouldn’t like it if he knew!” Kevin said quickly.

“Don’t tell him, Corey. What do you think he’s gonna do? Kill you?” Mr. Connor-Wanted-To-Say-Brown said, “You’re practically an adult, sort it out yourself,”

Connor sighed and slumped in his chair, glaring down at his desk. He wasn’t sure what was worse; spending a week with Kevin at his own house with his homophobic parents, or spending a week with Kevin and his homophobic parents at their house. Both seemed equally as bad and a very good excuse to throw himself in front of the school bus.

“You’re not staying at my house,” Kevin said quickly.

“Cute that you think I want to stay there,” Connor said, “I’ll give you a ride home,”

“I’m at swim practice after school so I’ll meet you there,”

“I have rehearsal,” Connor said, “I’ll meet you at my car. It’s the-”

“I know what your car is,”

“Oh,” Connor said with a frown, “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll...I’ll see you later,”

--------

“Do you think I could steal this dress once we’re done?” Nabulungi asked, twirling around in her Belle dress.

“When are you ever gonna wear a bright yellow ball gown again?”

Nabulungi shrugged, “Target?”

Connor snorted and turned to stare at himself in the mirror. Playing the Beast was fun, but the costume certainly wasn’t. He blew some fur out of his mouth and turned to glower at Nabulungi, as though his quite terrible costume was all her fault.

“I’m uncomfortable,” he said, taking the mask off and dropping it onto a chair, “It’s really annoying that I can’t turn into the Prince halfway through instead,”

“That defeats the point of the show though. She falls in love with him when he’s a beast, not when he’s a Prince,”

Connor scrunched his face up, “That feels illegal,”

“It’s not real,” she reminded him.

“Never realised that, thanks,” he muttered, eyes darting around the room until they came to stop where they always did: on Steve Blade.

When talking to any of his friends, Connor assured him that he was very much over Steve Blade and was not at all bitter about the way that everything ended. In reality, he was very much not over Steve Blade and was extremely bitter about the way everything ended. It made playing the Beast opposite his Gaston extremely easy; their fight scene never felt forced and Connor felt like he didn’t need claws to rip his head off. Spite was enough.

Nabulungi tutted when she saw where he was looking and punched his arm.

“No.” she said, “Stop thinking about Steve Blade!”

“I’m not!” Connor exclaimed before very casually adding, “He text me last night,”

“If you text him back-“

“I didn’t,” Connor said, lying effortlessly, “I ignored him. I’m not gonna go back to him,”

Nabulungi huffed a little, “Good. He got what he wanted from you,”

“My virginity?”

“Yes,” Nabulungi said bluntly.

Connor sighed and turned away from Steve, thankful that he hadn’t done anything that suggested they had been talking for most of the previous night. Though that might have been because he was terrified of Nabulungi, Chris and James and didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them. (Again).

Not that Connor himself wasn’t scared of his friends, sometimes. Especially where Steve Blade was concerned. Still, there was nothing quite as terrifying as an extremely irate Stage Manager in the form of Chris Thomas. The only person he hadn’t shouted at all day was James, even though he was extremely behind in his set painting duties. Connor had gotten one entrance wrong and Chris had described, in great detail, how he was gonna murder him.

“Oh my god,” Nabulungi said in a hushed voice, “Did you know Elizabeth was still choreographing?”

“Huh?” Connor said, “I thought someone else had taken over. Chris said she was too ill,”

“Well, she's here,”

Connor glanced over at the door and unintentionally winced as Chris wheeled his twin sister in. She looked worse than the last time he had seen her, and even then he had found it too difficult to look at her.

The school had invited her back to choreograph the show (an unspoken “one last time” hanging in the air), and she had gotten through the first two weeks of rehearsal before she had to leave. Now, with only one week to go before their first performance, having her come back seemed pointless. As he thought about it, Connor realised it only seemed pointless to him because he (hopefully) had more shows in his future. It was very unlikely she had any.

“Hey, Liz!” Connor said cheerfully as Chris wheeled her over, “How are you?”

“Dying,” she said bluntly.

Connor froze, immediately looking up to Chris for some help. Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes.

“It was a joke,” she said, “Sort of. How are you finding the choreography?”

“Fine,” Connor said quickly, happy to steer the conversation away from death, “Yeah, fine,”

“‘Fine’ unless we’re talking about Tale as Old as Time,” Nabulungi said, “Which is really all he needs to do,”

“Drop me in it, why don’t you?” Connor muttered.

Admittedly, Connor was terrible at ballroom dancing. If he wasn’t tripping over his own feet, he was tripping over Nabulungi’s feet and if he wasn’t tripping over Nabulungi’s feet he was tripping over her dress. It only served as a reminder that he probably shouldn’t have been playing the Beast. He would have been more than happy with the ensemble, or maybe LeFou at a stretch, but Nabulungi had convinced him to audition for the lead, just because they’d probably never have a chance to play opposite each other again.

“I prefer tap dancing,” Connor said after Nabulungi had finished explaining that the rather large bruise on her thigh was a result of Connor falling right on top of her when he had tried to pick her up.

“Come on, then,” Elizabeth sighed, slowing getting to her feet, “I’ll help you,”

“Uh, what are you doing?” Chris asked.

“Teaching Connor how to dance, why?” she asked, taking Connor’s hand.

“You can’t! The Doctor said that-“

“-I still have 6 months,” she reminded him, “What’s one ballroom dance going to do?”

“Drop her, and I’ll kill you,” Chris snapped, before rushing off to snap at the poor lighting techs.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the back of Chris’ head as she placed Connor’s hand on her waist and began counting him through the steps. It was a lot easier, being taught by someone who actually knew what they were doing (the new choreographer had not offered much help outside of ‘smile!’).

“You are good at this,” she told him once the song had ended, “All you need is more confidence in yourself,”

“I don’t think ballroom dancing is my thing,” Connor sighed, “and also not dressed like this,”

“Dancing is your thing, Connor,” she said firmly, holding onto his arm as she, if possible, grew paler, “By the time you finish college, you’ll be top of your game,”

Connor smiled and helped her back to her chair, hoping that Chris wasn’t going to commit a crime because he had tired her out. Not that Connor could blame him for being so overprotective; he couldn’t imagine watching his siblings slowly die, and he didn’t even like them that much.

“You didn’t have to be here,” Connor said, sitting next to her and watching a run through of Gaston.

“I know, but Christopher can’t say no to me anymore,” she said, “and he always drives me to McDonalds afterwards. Plus-“ she broke off suddenly, frowning, “I can hear a baby crying,”

“Wha - oh, shit,”

Connor jumped to his feet and hurried underneath the bleachers. He had hidden Brigham the baby underneath there in the hopes that he wouldn’t be too loud. Kevin had point blank refused to take him to swim practice, and Connor was starting to think that he would be learning what it was going to be like to be a single dad.

“Sorry,” Connor said, awkwardly rocking the doll, “It’s my baby,”

“Health class?” she asked.

“Yep,” Connor said miserably, “He’s called Brigham,”

“Who’s your partner? Naba?”

Connor scoffed, “I wish. No, it’s Kevin Price,”

“The Governor's son?”

“Yeah...”

She stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny but - oh, sweetie. Are they still doing the thing where you have to stay with your partner?”

Connor sighed and nodded, “I’m not going over to his house. Lord knows I don’t need to meet Governor Price,”

“So...he’s going to yours?” she asked in a small voice.

“It’ll be fine,” Connor said hurriedly, “My parents don’t need to know,”

When Connor finally got out of rehearsal and spotted Kevin awkwardly hovering by his car, he thought that his parents probably wouldn’t be too angry if Kevin was the boy he brought home. As this thought crossed his mind, he remembered exactly who his parents were and what they expected of him. They’d probably get angry if Joseph Smith himself was the boy he brought home.

Not that Connor would want to bring Joseph Smith home. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with the whole Prophet thing.

“How are we gonna bring him home?” Kevin asked.

“I don’t know. He’s a doll. We’ll just put him in the back,”

Kevin tutted, “You can’t drive a baby home like that! I’ll hold him,”

“You know he’s not a real baby, right?” Connor asked slowly.

“I’ve never failed a class in my life, and you’re not about to make me,” Kevin snapped, taking Brigham into his arms.

“Alright, chill,” Connor muttered, “It’s not that deep,”

Kevin spent the majority of the car journey to Connor’s house glowering out of the window, Brigham held tightly in his arms. If it weren’t for the fact that Kevin was also male, it might have been the closest that Connor ever got to being straight. He had lost count of the amount of couples he had seen (mainly at Church), who so obviously resented each other but had had a child together so that they could live up to the Mormon standard.

It was probably the life that Kevin was going to live, and Connor felt sorry for him until he realised that he was homophobic and suddenly couldn’t care less.

As soon as Connor pulled up outside of his house, his mouth went dry and his palms became sweaty. This was not at all unusual, but it was even worse with Kevin being there with him.

Taking a deep breath, Connor got out of the car and waited for Kevin to do the same. He was taking an awfully long time, holding Brigham close to his chest as he carefully got out, and Connor wasn’t sure he could last a whole week without committing a felony. Or if Kevin could last a whole week without committing a hate crime.

“Are you gonna come in?” Kevin asked.

Connor’s neck snapped up to face Kevin, who was standing on the front porch.

“Get off there!” Connor hissed, lurching forward to grab his arm and yank him backwards.

“Watch the baby!” Kevin yelled.

“Shush!” Connor whispered, glancing up at the house and dragging Kevin around the side of the house when he saw someone inside - probably his mom - start to pull the curtains back, “Don’t yell!”

Kevin frowned at him, “What the heck is your problem, McKinley?”

“How long have you got?” Connor muttered.

He walked around the back of the house to where the basement door was, quickly unlocking it and shoving Kevin through it before one of his parents made an appearance in the back garden. And he couldn’t help but curse his best friends, because it would have been beyond easier to have just moved in with Naba or Chris for a week.

Kevin stood awkwardly in the middle of the middle room and it suddenly occurred to Connor that he was probably used to places that were more...grand.

“Is there a reason we’re in your basement?” Kevin asked, “Are you going to murder me?”

Connor tutted and walked over to his makeshift kitchen (a mini-fridge, kettle, toaster, microwave and mini-grill on top of his chest of drawers), beginning to make his usual after school snack of two Poptarts and a can of Redbull. If this was also occasionally his dinner, no one needed to know.

“Do you want anything?” Connor asked.

Kevin shook his head as he gently laid Brigham on Connor’s bed, “I brought something,”

“You don’t trust my cooking?”

“I follow a strict diet,” Kevin said, “I’m a swimmer, remember?”

“Oh, yeah...” Connor muttered, dropping down onto one of the beanbags that Mr and Mrs Thomas were kind enough to donate to him, “There’s an airbed for you. I’ll blow it up later,”

Kevin nodded and perched on the edge of Connor’s bed, his eyes darting around the room. Connor picked at his Poptart, feeling increasingly awkward. He would suggest that Kevin stay at his own house and lie to Mr. Teacher-That-Connor-Would-Probably-Never-Know-The-Name-Of, but he had a feeling that Kevin was not one to ever break the rules.

“Why are we actually in the basement?” Kevin asked, “Shouldn’t you tell your parents your home? And that I’m here?”

“No,” Connor said, “If it were up to them, I wouldn’t be in the house,”

“Um...”

“I’m gay, they don’t like it, they moved me into the basement because it makes them feel less guilty than if they actually kicked me out,” Connor shrugged, “on the rare occasion that I do actually see them, they remind me that once I’ve left for college, that’s it. I’m out, for good,”

Kevin stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Connor clenched his jaw and looked back down at his Poptarts, wondering if there was a worst person to have this conversation with. He didn’t even like talking about it to his friends, never mind someone he barely knew and who definitely hated him in the same way that his parents did.

Thankfully, Brigham started wailing and Kevin was too distracted to ask Connor anymore questions.

It was definitely going to be the longest week of his life.

#fun fact: I don't realy know what governors do but I am going to find that out before I publish this #I feel like America has too many political offices #Like calm down #For the sake of most of the world #and my fanfiction #kevin price #connor mckinley #elder price #elder mckinley #my writing #tbom #tbom musical #bom #arnold cunningham #elder cunningham #nabulungi hatimbi #arnaba #churchtarts

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