#... lipstick just plainly looks weird on me. so. yeah...

[bukuoshin]

Ooh, new makeup thing I can do for no apparent reason except that I think it looks cool, yay!

[stevenbasic]

I’m shrinking. I’m fucking shrinking. 

I couldn’t believe it, I was so confused. How is this happening?? This can’t be happening!! But it was then that I first really realized it...

We had almost made it out of the dressing room. I was just straightening my tie. All the new clothes - hers and mine - were separated out: ones we wanted, ones we didn’t. We’d been doing this for more than an hour and we really needed to get back to the office. My patients were due to begin…

..15 minutes ago!

“Uh, Melissa,” I began, as she was just touching up her lipstick in the dressing room mirror, “we really need to get b-”

“KNOCK KNOCK!” called a woman’s voice, as the curtain which led out to the store was pulled aside. We both turned, and in came a middle-aged woman with a measuring tape draped around her neck and dress on a rack...a white dress…

...a wedding dress. That’s weird, for a department store, right?

“Oh, you’re almost done in here?” the lady said. She was a salesperson from the store, a real chatty one that we’d found ourselves having to avoid earlier as we shopped. “Oh good. I’m just going to leave this here. It’s a dress that a bride didn’t like, she’s returning it after all the alterations...the nerve...” Why she was explaining this to us, I have no idea.

“Oh it’s beautiful!” Melissa answered, reaching out to finger the embroidered fabric, “Why would she..??”

“Oh I don’t know! And I had to do so much to it - I do it all myself, you know, for the store, the sewing, the tailoring! She was such a tall girl…” the woman said, casting a glance up and down Melissa, and pulling a pencil from out behind her ear, “probably about your height.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “Long legs, too. Like you. In fact...” She pulled out a small pad of paper from a pocket.

“Oh my goodness,” Melissa sang, reading the woman’s intentions, “can I try it on?”

“Well sure, sweetie!!” the saleslady said, glancing briefly over my way,“I don’t see a ring yet but are you two going to be-”

“Haha no!” I interjected, slipping my arms back into my sport jacket. I wasn’t sure if the saleslady was hearing me or more intent on the numbers on her pad. “Nothing like that. We just work together. In fact we were just about to head b-”

“Oh, don’t be a poop! Yes, we’re engaged..!” Melissa laughed, slapping my arm, “He’s so funny!”

Wait what?!

“By this time next year we’ll be ‘Dr. and Mrs. J’, hopefully shopping for baby clothes…” Melissa claimed, somehow with a straight face, “I do need to start looking for a dress sometime, right honey?” 

“Melissa I-“

“And it’s every girl’s dream to see herself in a wedding dress. Here - now…” She cocked her head, hands analyzing the dress, the elasticity of the bodice, “...this should fit, right?”

Wait. What is she doing? I thought.

“Well, let’s see-” the saleslady said, eyes finally fully taking in Melissa’s eye-popping curves, the shadow of doubt settling over her face - perhaps worried, now, about the well-being of the dress. Nonetheless, she pulled out a measuring tape and - without a moment’s hesitation - reached it around  Melissa’s generous hips. “Wow, you’re a big girl,” she said, eyeing the number, stretching the tape to the top of her head. 

Melissa kicked off her shoes as the seamstress measured her height. “I’m forty-six in the bust…” she offered, “right, sweetie?” She looked over at me with a twinkle, trying to keep from giggling.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered. I would have flushed red but had run dry of blushes long ago.

”Six feet...and a bit…” the saleslady finally announced, penciling it onto her pad, “You could try the dress - and you could have it for a good deal.”  She hung her tape around her neck again, slipped the pad away. “Don’t you think she’ll look lovely coming down the aisle?”

“Yes, but..no. Well of course yes but like I said,” I stammered, flustered by how little these women were listening to me, “we’re not getting m-”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be nice, sweetie??” Melissa beamed, her eyes meeting mine in mischief, her hands reaching for mine, giving them an excited shake, “That way we’ll have more money for the honeymoon!” In an instant, she’d dropped my hands and grabbed the dress by its hanger.

“Haha Melissa...really, this is silly,” I said, trying to laugh as she headed back to the changing room, scooping up a shoebox on the way, “We’re not-”

She closed the door on us.

“Will you listen to him? What a kidder,” Melissa sang out from behind the shut door as she, apparently, was beginning to change into a wedding dress, “Don’t think you’re getting away from ME mister!” In the transom over the door, I saw her arms reaching up, already stripping off her top, “I’m going to MAKE you marry me!”

Well, she was certainly enjoying herself, teasing me like this, with this charade. I felt so powerless, absolutely unable to stop her. 

“Oh I can tell already,” she was saying, “This is going to look so pretty! At church, dancing at the reception..so many snaps, though! You’re going to need to help me get out of it afterwards....”

As Melissa changed in the stall, to my chagrin describing our hypothetical wedding night, the saleslady - Lorna, by her name tag - turned to me, smiling. I did my best to smile back, barely able to shrug and deciding, for my own sanity, to play along. I was, of course, telling myself I was hoping that this would be over quickly...but then the idea of seeing Melissa in a wedding dress began to weasel itself into my mind.

For the moment, Lorna and I both listened to the sounds coming from the changing room. Little grunts and giggles of effort from Melissa, the groans of stretching fabric. With each little ‘oof’ I couldn’t help but picture her squeezing herself into the bodice. “Oh I really hope I don’t pop this dress!” we heard her laugh, “If I don’t stop putting on weight you won’t be able to carry me across the threshold!”

As we waited, Lorna spoke up. “I could measure you for your tuxedo right now, hun,” she offered,  already on me with the measuring tape, measuring my arm, shoulder-to-wrist, “We have some nice ones to rent but of course you’d want to buy. About how tall are you?” 

This is not even a battle worth fighting, I thought, despondently helpless to the whims of both these women. “uh...5’11”?” I answered, even as Lorna had me swiftly measured head-to-toe.

“You’re 5’8”, hun,” she replied plainly. 

“Gah! What?” I blurted, “No. That can't be right.  Do that again.”

A mistake, of course, I immediately thought, as the seamstress raised her brows and set back to task. I’ve always been 5’11”...or, well, maybe 5’10 ¾”...But then, memories of little things I’d noticed over the past couple weeks - how my pants had been fitting, the car seat - all rushed back at once, made my vision begin to swim. It was like I’d known something already...but just hadn’t adm-

“Yep, 5’8”,” Lorna confirmed, standing next to me. She was not a tall woman, and looked up at me with bugged eyes through thick bifocals. I knew it made no sense, that she must be wrong, that I’d have to check this myself once I got a minute back at the office - but something inside me was already dark with dread.

“It’s very popular these days, I hear,”  Lorna continued, as a windstorm of confused thoughts began to whirl through my brain, “Couples like you.”

”Couples like what?” I snapped, maybe too harshly as I stood there trying to make sense of this. Had I really shrunk three inches?? And...is she trying to make me feel better?? “And...we’re not a cou-”

”Couples where the girl is taller, hun,” Lorna pressed on, “Lots of women are looking for shorter men, they say. It’s very fashionable. You’ve seen it, right? My daughter was telling me th-”

The door to the changing room opened. 

Holy shit.

Stopping us both in our tracks, Melissa stepped out in a wedding dress that looked - wow. Off-the-shoulder, lacey sleeves, a slinky silhouette. A classic look that was not too different than what my wife wore at our wedding seven years ago - but Sheryl certainly never looked like THIS. The dress accentuated every one of Melissa’s dramatic curves and-

I grimaced as I realized that I had just spent several flabbergasted seconds openly ogling her while she just stood there, looking down...way down...on me. 

“5’8”, huh?” she asked, stepping right up to me with a funny smile

“Oh you look lovely!!” Lorna gushed, “And my goodness with those shoes on so tall..!” She took a step back, to really take Melissa in. “Magnificent, really…”

“Thank youuuuu…” Melissa purred, placing a hand firmly on my shoulder. I looked up at her, and felt smaller than ever. “Maybe we should elope, honey? Next week on vacation?” she teased, “Do the wedding on the beach?”

The imagery was just too much...

“Wouldn’t that be so fun?”

“I think we’d have to take it in at the waist,” Lorna continued, half to herself, stepping up to Melissa’s side to pinch and tug at the fabric with a critical eye, “Let it out here...and there…” She took another step back, nodding in open admiration. “And hon I have to say you look just adorable, standing there next to her,” Lorna crowed, “If you two weren’t a couple I’d get you together with my daughter.”

“Oh no,” Melissa laughed, turning for the moment towards Lorna and inadvertently pressing her large left breast into my upper back, as her strong arm went around my thin shoulders, “Hands off he’s mine!”

Lorna chuckled. “I guess the good ones are always taken, hm?”

“yeah…” Melissa mused, a funny smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes as she turned back to me, possessively straightening my collar, “isn’t that the truth…”

=========================

Had a lot of help from my crew on this one, but especially Alex-GTS-Artist who was kind enough to donate his services and get us a look at Melissssy in a wedding dress. So awesome, thank you! Check out his DeviantArt and support him if you can!

https://www.deviantart.com/alex-gts-artist

[artificialqueens]

If you ever wanna be in love (I'll come around), Chapter Four (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Previously: Brooke and Vanessa had dinner with Brooke’s parents Now: Vanessa’s scheme to get more time with Brooke pays off, and they get closer.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback and love you’ve given this fic, it makes me so soft and really keeps me going. I’d love any thoughts you have on this chapter as well! Thank you to Writ for betaing, you’re the best!! <3 <3

Brooke smooths her thumb over the pink lipstick Vanessa wore Saturday. Pink like frosting, like peonies, like candy hearts. Like Vanessa’s lips.

It’s just lipstick, but Brooke’s been staring at it all weekend like she’s never seen it, like it’s a fossil to discover. It’s a piece of Vanessa, proof she really was in Brooke’s car, that Brooke really was that happy with her. She can’t stop picturing Vanessa putting her lipstick on, letting it glide over her lips–

Brooke has to get it back to her right away. It’s just lipstick, but Vanessa wears it a lot, so it’s probably her favorite. The library is only a few blocks from the museum, a coffee shop on the way, and maybe it’s a flimsy excuse to bring Vanessa coffee, but Brooke snatches it like a lifeline. And so what if she memorized Vanessa’s coffee order? Brooke was so horrified by the amount of sugar Vanessa dumped in that it’s burned into her brain. Brooke takes her coffee black, thank you very much, not only for the taste but because extra sugar makes her jumpy.

She has Vanessa’s sugar explosion in her left hand and the lipstick in her right as she enters the library, and she shouldn’t be sweating this much in the air conditioning. What if Vanessa already had coffee? What if someone asks Brooke why she’s here--I’ll say I’m bringing my wife coffee, Brooke thinks, and the thrill of it floods her.

The children’s room is bigger than Brooke expected, with long walls of books and sections for computers and toys, some kids playing on a bright rug. Vanessa is at the desk with her co-workers–A’keria and Yvie, Brooke recalls–and her face lights up when she sees Brooke.

“What brings you here?” Vanessa asks gleefully.

“Um,” Brooke begins, distracted by Vanessa’s dazzling smile. “I found your lipstick in my car. It must have fallen out of your purse.” She sets it on the desk, almost sad to lose it, like she’s lost part of Vanessa. “And I thought you might want coffee.”

Vanessa plainly does want coffee, snatching the cup and sighing in content.

“Damn.” A’keria whistles, turning to Brooke. “You got brothers? I want a fake husband to bring me coffee.”

Brooke shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Worth a shot.”

Vanessa elbows her, then shoots out of her chair. “Hey, do you have time before work?”

“I should. Why?”

Vanessa claps her hands. “Because you, Brookie, are about to get my famous library tour.”

Brooke flushes at the nickname, which only her niece and nephew use. It’s special to hear Vanessa say it, a secret between them.

“Is this what we’re calling famous nowadays?” Yvie asks.

Vanessa shushes her and herds Brooke to the bookshelves. “These are books for little kids, middle school, and young adults. And this”–she points at shelves with construction paper hearts and rainbows streaming down the sides, informational pamphlets nestled between books for all ages– “is the pride month display I made.”

She smiles hesitantly, proud in her work but uncertain what Brooke will think, and Brooke doesn’t want Vanessa to doubt herself for a second. She loves how much Vanessa cares, making special displays to inform kids on different sexualities and safe sex, and she wants Vanessa to know it.

“That’s awesome, Vanessa,” Brooke says. “It’s so great you did this. Think of all the kids it’ll help.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa flashes her smile again, like that was exactly what she had in mind and was waiting for someone to recognize it, to understand how important it is to her. “Here are some crafts I’ve done.”

She nods to a shelf littered with Styrofoam Poké balls and tissue boxes transformed into sharp-toothed monsters, but one catches Brooke’s eye–

“Cats!” she squeals. “How did you make them?”

Vanessa laughs. “From a soda bottle. You cut off the bottom, then paint on a face. Then you have little kittens.”

“Amazing.” Brooke meets Vanessa’s eyes, sees them shining with pride. “What else is on the tour?”

“That’s about it. Just got toys, games, computers, that kind of stuff in the corners. There’s the bathroom, but you don’t want to see that. I don’t know what people do in there.”

“This was a great tour,” Brooke says. “You know, I could give you a museum tour sometime, if you want,” she offers, hoping she hasn’t overstepped, hoping Vanessa says yes.

“Okay!” Vanessa yells. “You can show me the dinos! Like those cera-tips!”

“Triceratops,” Brooke corrects gently through a snorting laugh. She tries not to snort when she laughs because it sounds ridiculous, but Vanessa draws those laughs out of her like nothing, grinning each time.

“That’s what I meant.” Vanessa is still laughing as she leads Brooke outside, and Brooke’s chest hurts as she says goodbye. It could just be heartburn. That’s probably it.

She has to do an awkward run/walk to get to work on time, but it’s worth it.

—

“V, are you listening?” A’keria asks.

Vanessa is not listening. Not after the picture Brooke just sent: a selfie of her with a giant grin on her face, next to the T-Rex skull. She’s so carefree and happy, and Vanessa’s brain can’t focus on anything else.

“Something about hot sauce?” Vanessa tries, setting her phone down.

Silky sighs. “We already talked about that! We’re talking about A’keria’s date.”

“Oh.” Normally Vanessa would be fully in that conversation, planning hair ideas and discussing outfits. But Brooke keeps occupying a larger and large space in her head, and Vanessa forces her out for right now to be with her girls.

“She’s too busy texting Brooke.” Damn A’keria’s sixth sense. She latches on to any hint of relationship stuff like some sort of Cupid, and any fragments of Brooke that Vanessa ignored come rushing back in a green-eyed, snort-laughing tide.

“What are you two doing?” Silky demands.

Vanessa’s face burns. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you text a lot,” A’keria jumps in calmly. “And you asked her to be your fake wife for the carnival even though you didn’t need to.”

Vanessa shrugs, trying to brush everything off. “We’re friends. She’s fun to be around. I just thought she might like the carnival, and I can keep Paul off my back.”

She tries to convince herself that’s true, that this is nothing more than friendship and strategy and convenience. Another appearance to stick it to Paul, make everything undeniable before they call it quits. The way her heart speeds up around Brooke has nothing to do with it.

“Sure,” Silky says, clearly unconvinced. “When are you going on your museum tour?”

Vanessa groans. “I can’t go too early or I’ll look weird. Maybe Thursday.” She liked her school field trips to museums, liked not being trapped at her desk, even if she got in trouble for going to the Viking exhibit early because her class just took too long in the nasty bug room.

Vanessa wonders how she’ll make it three days until she sees Brooke.

—

Museums have been home to Brooke since she was a kid. Everything was neat and orderly, the way she kept her bedroom, with a place for everything and everything in its place. It was soothing to be around so much knowledge, and she begged her mom to take her every weekend, the day usually ending with Brooke being pulled from the gift shop after trying to buy a life-size stuffed dinosaur or astronaut food with her allowance. (She’s tried astronaut food since then, and what a disappointment).

A kid gasps in surprise when they see display plaques at a child’s eye-level, and Brooke beams. She did that her first day, because she remembers standing on tip-toes and straining her neck to see things meant for grown-ups, when she wanted to see it for herself. There were times as a kid it felt like the whole world was made for other people, people who could kiss in school without fear of being called wrong, people who knew how to make friends, people who could be part of things instead of watching.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a voice begins. Those words usually have Brooke on the defensive, preparing to be yelled at by some visitor for God knows what. But she knows that voice, and she spins around and laughs.

“I’m here for my tour!” Vanessa announces. She’s in jeans and a bright red shirt, rose-shaped hair clips nestled in her waves, and Brooke is mesmerized.

“Right.” Brooke can’t help it as she stands a little straighter, clears her throat. She loves tours, loves the chance to share her knowledge, to tell people facts—did you know a stegosaurus could weigh up to 7,000 pounds?—she used to be teased for knowing. Even though she doesn’t do regular tours like the tour guides, she’s used to showing around special groups or workers from other museums visiting on business. Yet for all the guests wrapped in fancy degrees and fancier job titles, none are as special as the one in front of her, and Brooke wants to give her best tour ever.

“So, dinosaurs first emerged about 240 million years ago…”

They continue through the museum, past glittery gold Egyptian tombs and recreations of delicate vases and ferocious animal models. Vanessa goes wild in the Viking exhibit, maybe because the replica ship reminds her of a pirate ship, and Brooke tells her any details she remembers from history classes and museum presentations.

Vanessa poses for pictures in front of the ship, her smile dazzling, and Brooke wishes the picture was hers. Hers to look at whenever she wants, to remember today and know they shared something special. But she gives Vanessa her phone back, because they aren’t a real couple, and she has no right to ask Vanessa to send them to her.

“That was amazing, Brooke,” Vanessa praises when they’re done, and the blush creeps into her cheeks.

“I’m happy you liked it,” Brooke says honestly.

“You have a gift shop here? I used to love them. I wanted to buy this Viking sword once and it cost $500.”

Brooke barks with laughter. “I was the same way! I usually wanted stuffed animals or a rocket ship.”

“You ever try astronaut food? It’s–”

“Disgusting!” Brooke finishes, and they laugh so loud people look at them, but Brooke doesn’t care, wants to be in this moment with Vanessa.

“Um, what are you doing this weekend?” Brooke asks, bringing things back down.

“Nothing,” Vanessa grumbles. “Me and A’keria live together, and we usually watch movies on Fridays, but she’s got a date so I’ll be alone. She must think it’s gonna go well, ‘cause I have to cover her Saturday shift too.”

“I’ll watch a movie with you if you want,” Brooke’s mouth blurts out before her brain can stop it. She shouldn’t have done that, they’re not dating. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean–only if you want to–”

Vanessa shushes her stammers with an eager nod. “I’d love that! We can get takeout. It’ll be fun.”

Brooke nods, her heart pounding. She’ll be inside Vanessa’s apartment, someplace much more personal than restaurants and museums. It’s part of Vanessa, and Brooke is honored Vanessa trusts her with it.

“I’ll be there,” she promises.

—

Brooke is going to be in her apartment in 33–no, 30; Brooke’s always early–minutes, and Vanessa is running around like a headless chicken. It’s not that her A’keria are messy; it’s just that Brooke is so neat, careful when they eat and clothes always perfect, and Vanessa doesn’t want to look like a slob.

She wants Brooke to see the pride she has in her place, a space she could call her own after sharing a cramped college dorm. She wants Brooke to walk in and know this is Vanessa’s home, know it’s part of her, from the cozy flannel blankets to the thrifted bookcase overflowing with childhood favorites she read by flashlight at night. Just like Brooke shared her museum home yesterday, bouncing through exhibits and pointing things out to Vanessa, she wants to show Brooke her home.

Brooke knocks five minutes early, takeout bags in hand. Vanessa is about to lead her inside when paws pad over hardwood, and suddenly Brooke is on the floor, Thackeray in her lap and Riley licking her arm.

“You two never give me that kind of welcome!” Vanessa yells.

“Guess I’m an animal whisperer.” Brooke pets Thackeray with one hand and Riley with the other, and Vanessa can’t stop smiling. Riley hates strangers, almost chewing the pizza delivery person’s pants once, but settles with people he likes. Warmth spreads through Vanessa that Riley already likes Brooke, senses all the goodness in her that Vanessa sees.

“You a something whisperer,” Vanessa mutters. She heads inside and Brooke follows, nodding in approval.

“This is a really nice place,” Brooke says. “Are those frog salt and pepper shakers?”

Vanessa cackles. “You bet they are! Found ‘em in the thrift shop.”

“I have dinosaur ones. Nina got them for me.” Brooke blushes.

“Of course you do.”

They settle on the couch with their Thai feast. Vanessa fires up Netflix, and though it’s odd to see Brooke on the other end of the couch, long legs tucked underneath her, she somehow looks right, like the couch always had room for her.

“What are we gonna watch?” Brooke asks, digging into her noodles.

“Maybe a rom-com?” Vanessa suggests hesitantly. “I know they’re cheesy as hell and ain’t real feminist-y, but sometimes it’s nice to see love as this big thing.”

“Yeah. So many married people don’t even like each other.”

“Exactly!” Vanessa yells, because Brooke gets it. “They make love a chore or something, but it shouldn’t be. Sometimes I want some big cheesy gesture or for someone to run through an airport for me. It’s better than not caring at all.”

Love can’t always be a movie, she knows that. But the idea of it, of meaning that much to someone, is what Vanessa’s always wanted. Her parents were like that, cooking together and bringing home flowers and yelling at Jeopardy! contestants, and Vanessa wants that devotion and warmth someday.

“Airports are too big. I’d run through a train station for you,” Brooke says, so dry that Vanessa whacks her with a pillow. “Seriously, a rom-com’s fine.”

Vanessa tries to find one before Brooke sees her recently watched list–a very personal thing, in Vanessa’s opinion–but she’s too late.

“She-Ra and the Princesses of Power?” Brooke asks.

“Don’t laugh!” Vanessa barks. “It’s really good. These kids at the library like it and I started watching to get activity ideas. Then I got hooked.”

Brooke’s smile is warm enough to melt ice, eyes soft and loving. “That’s really sweet. It’s nice how much you care.”

Vanessa can’t stop the pride from creeping into her smile. “I just want the library to be a good place for them, y’know?”

“Yeah. I try to do the same at the museum.”

Vanessa’s heart warms at how much Brooke cares, just like Vanessa cares.

There’s ten minutes of scrolling and countless insistings of ‘you can pick’ before they finally start About Time. Vanessa likes having Brooke there, an anchor on the couch, laughing and sharing the movie with her, even though she doesn’t need tissues at the end like Vanessa.

“You don’t cry at movies?” Vanessa asks.

“Not a lot.”

“Look me in the eyes and say you didn’t cry over Marley and Me.”

“Of course I did! That’s different.” Brooke leans in, air around her suddenly serious, like she’s about to share something private. “I cried a lot when I was little. When someone took my things, when we had to leave my grandparents’ house, you name it. Then I got embarrassed and kinda outgrew it.”

Vanessa nods. “I was a yeller. My mom said people could hear me in Alaska.”

“I believe it.”

“Hey! At least people can always hear me at parties and stuff!”

“Even parties in Alaska.” Brooke snorts. “Speaking of parties, my parents loved you. They’ve been telling me all week how great you are.”

“You’re kidding.” Vanessa wants to believe it, but she can’t. Not after the disaster parent meetings she’s had.

“I’m not.”

“They really said that about me?”

“You seem surprised.” Brooke’s words are part statement and part question, leaving it up to Vanessa how things go. Vanessa hesitates, because she doesn’t do this. She doesn’t let things bother her, doesn’t let people’s opinions change her confidence. She’s enough, and she knows it. Brooke doesn’t need to hear this, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and maybe it’s good to talk about it.

“Parents don’t usually like me,” Vanessa admits, picking at a loose pillow thread. “They want someone fancy and proper and that’s just not me. My last girlfriend’s parents told me I wasn’t good enough for their daughter.” A stray tear falls and Vanessa reaches for a tissue, but Brooke is already offering one.

“Hey,” Brooke says softly. “You’re smart and funny and caring and beautiful. You’re more than enough, Vanessa.”

Vanessa nods through her sniffle, not trusting her voice when Brooke is being so kind, so tender.

“Can I hug you?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa throws herself in Brooke’s arms. She lets Brooke hold her, her tears washing away with the soothing scent of Brooke’s tea tree shampoo, the steady beat of her heart beneath Vanessa’s ear. Vanessa gives amazing hugs, everyone tells her so, and Brooke matches her skill, squeezing gently, hands resting on Vanessa’s back. Brooke’s arms are the coziest, safest blanket and Vanessa never wants to leave them. She could live in Brooke’s arms, make a home nuzzled against her chest.

She forces herself to pull away, looking down at the couch. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” There’s an awkward silence, then Brooke stands. “I should go. You have to work early tomorrow, right?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I gotta get up at the ass-crack of dawn.” She sighs. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Brooke grimaces. “Babysitting. My sister has this dinner thing, and I told her I’d take the kids.”

“Yikes.” Before Vanessa thinks it through, she’s speaking again. “You want help? Two kids is a lot by yourself.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to bother you–”

“Let me help, Miss Thing!” Vanessa suddenly wants to, would rather spend the night with Brooke and the kids instead of her TV and a bag of chips.

“Okay, okay.” Brooke holds her hands up in surrender.

Vanessa grins. “Coming at you tomorrow, the Mateo-Hytes babysitting crew!”

The echo of Brooke’s barking laugh soothes Vanessa to sleep that night.

—

Brooke knows they’re well past their agreement. This was supposed to be two events and done, back to their normal lives where fake dating is the stuff of rom-coms. But throw in the thrifting, and the lost lipstick, and the movie, and now Brooke is at the mob scene that is a Saturday afternoon grocery store buying brownie mix because Vanessa suggested making brownies with the kids tonight.

It’s almost like she and Vanessa are two boats being tossed about in each other’s paths. Even though they didn’t intend to keep doing things after the agreement ended, they somehow still are. Sure, Brooke didn’t have to suggest movie night, could have refused Vanessa’s babysitting offer, but she didn’t want Vanessa to be alone, and considering her last babysitting experience resulted in deep-cleaning the living room rug, she could use the help.

There’s also the bonus of seeing Vanessa again. Brooke doesn’t know what they are, exactly, and even though most of her life is spent classifying, assigning order to things, maybe she can be okay with the uncertainty. All she knows is that Vanessa makes her laugh more than anyone, understands the things she says and even the things she doesn’t, makes her happier than she’s been in a while. Vanessa is special, that much she does know, and Brooke will take any second she can with her.

It’s been nothing but work for months, every second spent on the T-Rex exhibit. There’s no room for the giggling Brooke does around Vanessa when she’s one of the only women at the museum, where board members think she’s too forgiving of interns, too focused on kids. She forgets all that around Vanessa, her muscles loosening up, carefree and excited like a kid on summer vacation.

She throws brownie mix in her cart and motors down the aisles, dodging screaming kids and middle-aged ladies fighting with employees. She’s back home just before the kids arrive, bouncing with excitement over being at Aunt Brookie’s. Brooke sets them up in the living room with their toys and starts on dinner.

Someone knocks and Brooke runs to the door, revealing a cheerful Vanessa who makes Brooke’s heart skip a beat.

“Where’s the babies?” she asks, gathering her hair into a ponytail. Brooke can’t stop staring at the curves of her hands, how quickly her fingers move, twirling around her hair with ease.

“Kids are in the living room.”

“No, the kitties!”

“Oh.” Brooke nudges the cats out of her room and Vanessa gets on the floor with them, nuzzling their fur and cooing.

“Apollo’s kind of mean around new people, don’t worry if he doesn’t like you,” Brooke says, but Apollo is letting Vanessa pet him, which is damn near a miracle. He must really like Vanessa, and Brooke agrees with his judgement.

Vanessa finally stands and surveys the kitchen, and Brooke tries to see it from Vanessa’s eyes, hoping she likes it. There’s the tiny green floral rug by the sink bringing the outdoors to her. The cozy kitchen table where she drinks her morning coffee. The row of succulents on the window sill that Brooke made a watering schedule for, determined to get them through the dry summer.

“It’s cozy here. I like it,” Vanessa says, peeking at the pot of boiling water. “What we got cookin’?”

“Mac and cheese.”

Vanessa sighs in content, then raises one adorable eyebrow at the blue box on the counter. “Oh no, Mary! You gotta make it homemade!”

Brooke’s cheeks redden. “I-I’m not good at cooking, okay? I’m always afraid I’m doing stuff wrong, so I don’t do it.”

Cooking should come easy to her, because she likes following instructions, crossing things off lists, but it doesn’t. She doesn’t have the instinct for it like she does other stuff, like picking out good digging spots and identifying the fossils and rocks underneath, or using her surroundings to get home on a new hiking path. With cooking, she can’t get the motions down, never knows if she’s chopped things correctly, gets so worried about undercooking that she overcooks.

Vanessa’s expression softens, her gaze caressing Brooke like a warm blanket. “Hey, I’ll help you, okay? We’ll do it together.”

Brooke nods shakily, letting Vanessa show her to cook the flour and add the milk, stirring the cheese in carefully. Vanessa’s floury hand brushes against Brooke’s on the spoon, and Brooke almost drops it once the warmth of Vanessa’s skin hits her. Half an hour later, Brooke looks down at the finished dinner and smiles in disbelief. They made this, her and Vanessa, and Vanessa talked and joked all the way through it, kept Brooke calm, and now they have this dish of golden breadcrumbs, gooey choose, and warm pasta to show for it. It’ll be devoured by ravenous kids soon, but it doesn’t erase that they made this. Together.

“We really did it,” she whispers.

“Food Network, here we come,” Vanessa giggles.

—

Dinner and brownies devoured, Brooke and Vanessa join the kids on the Barbie-and-Lego-strewn rug. Watching kids play is something special, the way they can go for hours with wild imaginations. It reminds Brooke of her hours playing explorer with stuffed animals, free from the kids at school who teased her for being too quiet and too smart. Vanessa’s eyes glimmer and Brooke wonders if she’s reminiscing too.

Sophie has her Barbie and Ken dolls contorting in unhuman ways to kiss, and Brooke and Vanessa snicker.

“Aunt Brookie,” Sophie asks, “Do you and Ness kiss like my dolls?”

If Brooke had water, she would spit it out. Instead, she chokes on nothing but air and Vanessa whacks her on the back.

“Um, yes, we kiss, Soph,” Brooke manages when her breath returns. Don’t think about kissing Vanessa. Don’t think about her pink lips.

“At home,” Vanessa adds with a wink.

Sophie nods, and Brooke thinks they’re safe, just another bout of a kid’s curiosity. Then Sophie chants, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”, nudging Sam and getting him to join in like only an older sister can, and soon they’re shouting.

She turns to Vanessa and freezes. The kids are at full volume, and Brooke’s sure to have angry neighbors. One little kiss will be enough to quiet them before complaints roll in. They’re still just friends, it’s no big deal. Brooke can’t deny the curiosity rising in her, the way her body is creeping forward ever so slightly. Are Vanessa’s lips as soft as they look?

Brooke looks at Vanessa with the question in her eyes, and Vanessa nods. Their lips meet to a chorus of cheers and–shit.

Somewhere Brooke registers that she shouldn’t be feeling this good when she and Vanessa aren’t really together. But every other thought is on Vanessa, on the softness of her lips and faint taste of brownies, on their hearts pounding in time. She remembers they’re in front of the kids and forces herself to pull back before things go too far.

The kids move on, but Brooke is stunned. Her nose is still filled with Vanessa’s green apple shampoo. Her fingertips are tingling. Her body burns like fire.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to Vanessa.

“Don’t be.” Vanessa seems as shocked as Brooke, touching her lips like she can’t believe Brooke’s were just there, looking at Brooke like she’s never seen her before.

Brooke almost wishes the kids would demand another kiss.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 1, Chapter 2)

Notes: See, one thing I love about the prose format is that I am not constrained by the games one-or-the-other choices. Alodia can play Marco Polo with Sean AND talk to Estela! Such intoxicating power! In case anyone was wondering, I have actually finish rough drafts of the first two books. (I have been working on this fan novel for quite some time), so I can post chapters quite quickly.  Content Warning: Strong language because I have the mouth of a sailor. Also mention of bullying in this chapter. 

The geometric-printed carpet that covers the Celestial's expansive lobby is dotted here and there with suitcases and luggage racks. A half-finished glass of wine sits on the table. But the concierge desk is deserted. The suitcases are abandoned.

“Where is everybody!” Michelle taps the concierge bell impatiently. “I mean, helloooooooooo!”

No answer.

Sean puffs up his cheeks and blows out the breath through barely parted teeth. The noise sounds bewildered. “Sooo...this'll make for one weird-ass Yelp review.”

“The hotel staff knew we were coming this week, right?” Grace says nervously. “This is not good.”

“What are you complaining about dweeb?” Craig snorts. “We have the whole hotel to ourselves! This is sick!”

I shake my head. “This is totally creepy. I'm with Grace on this one. Something like this doesn't just happen. We should try to figure out if something is seriously wrong.”

Grace smiles gratefully at me. “Thanks for backing me up, Alodia. I don't want to sound like I'm raining on everyone's parade.”

“But you are raining on it!” Craig insists. “You're going full-on monsoon on my parade.”

Raj pops up from behind the bar, grinning. “At least the booze is still here. Who's up for a mai tai?”

Diego picks up the half-finished glass of wine sitting on a table beside a lounge chair. “Check it out, Allie. Fresh lipstick on the rim. It's like everyone just suddenly up and left.”

“But without their luggage,” Quinn chimes in. “Why?”

I'm noticing something else, something that's making me that much more nervous. “Hey...guys? Check your phones, will you? ...Because I'm not getting any service.”

Diego pulls out his phone and frowns. “...I'm not getting service either.”

“Not me, either,” Quinn says. One by one, my classmates confirm it. None of us have cell phone service.

“Maybe they don't got any towers here,” Craig suggests.

Aleister groans. “Of course the island has cell phone towers, you colossal buffoon!”

“And how would you know that?” the girl with the undercut asks warily.

Aleister looks taken aback. “I...well...of course, I...” Abruptly, he regains his composure, features settling into a cold sneer. “Perhaps because I'm not a complete imbecile? They were plainly visible in the distance on our approach.”

“Allie, what do you think's happening?” Diego asks.

“...I'm thinking there was some kind of incident.”

“An incident?”

“Yeah. You know, like a gas leak or an outbreak of plague or something, and everyone had to leave.”

“That's...not implausible actually,” Grace says. “This is a volcanic island, after all.”

“Lila, what do you...” I stop, looking around for our guide. “...Uh...has anyone seen Lila?”

Slowly, we wander outside, where we find Lila pacing like a tiger in a cage.

“Lila?” Grace approaches cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, me? I'm perfect! I'm sure this is positively nothing to worry about! I bet it's just a fire drill.” She flashes a far-too-bright smile at us. “Or maybe even a hotel-wide beach picnic!”

Jake snorts derisively. “Yeah, or maybe the Care Bears came down from the clouds and took everyone to Happy-Happy Land.”

“That's not helping,” Sean growls.

“Have you even watched an episode of Care Bears,” Raj mutters. “You just sound ignorant.”

Jake ignores Raj, turning to glare at Sean. “Not helping? You're the ones sitting around playing story time. How about getting some real answers? Truth is, I'm not here to help. I'm here to get paid. And right now, ain't nobody here to pay me.”

“We're only getting answers if someone around here shows some leadership,” Sean shoots back. “Looks like you're not up to the task.”

“You throw a ball around and you think that qualifies you to talk to me about leadership?”

Sean draws himself up and takes a step closer to Jake. Jake responds, squaring off. For my part, I've had enough, and push in between them.

“Will both of you quit puffing your chests?” I snap. “The only thing that's getting us nowhere is this stupid macho display!”

I admit, my ego is rather tickled by the surprise fighting contrition in their faces, as if I were a teacher pulling apart two boys wrestling on the playground.

“Whoa, hang on--” Sean protests.

“Captain America here's trying to--”

I raise my hand sharply, cutting them off. “Don't wanna hear it. Shake hands. Then put your heads together and help us figure this out.”

The two of them size each other up. Then, grudgingly, they shake hands.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Sean says. “We're good.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jake grunts.

“Great. We've got the power of friendship,” Diego quips. “Now what are we supposed to do, Allie?”

I suddenly realize Diego isn't the only one looking at me for guidance. ...Everyone is. Even Lila.  I hesitate, but only for a moment. Someone has to step up here.

“I...Well, there has to be something around here that will tell us what happened, right? I say we split up and search the hotel.”

“Oh, wonderful idea, Alodia!” Lila says, back to her perky self.

“Hmmm, maybe I'll find something by the pool,” Grace suggests.

“The pool, huh?” Jake says. “I like the way you think. I'll go with Brain Trust.”

Raj turns to Craig. “Yo, Craig, if things were normal, what would we be doing right now?”

“Uh...eating?”

“Exactly. Let's check the restaurant.”

“Perfect!” Lila turns to the girl with the undercut. “Where would you like to look Zahra?”

“Don't care,” Zahra mutters.

“Well...how about we check the ballroom?”

“Still don't care.”

“Where are you headed?” I ask Diego.

“I thought I'd check out the pool.”

“I'll go with the ballroom group then.” I grin. “We'll spread the dynamic duo out. Lets more people benefit from our superpowers.” ...Besides that, it kinda looks like Quinn is drifting towards the ballroom group.

He catches where my gaze is lingering and grins back. “Yeah. Good plan, Batman. Meet you back here in a bit.” I start off when something makes me stop.

“...What is it?” Diego asks.

“That girl...the quiet one in the hoodie.” I do a quick head count just to be sure. “...She's gone.”

“...You're right...but...hey, let's worry about one thing at a time, okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'll catch up with you later.”

But I can't shake the electric feeling that fizzes in my veins when I remember the way that girl held my gaze.

Lila leads me, Zahra, and Quinn to the ballroom. It is as beautiful and ornate as I expected a ballroom at a Rourke International resort to be, with crystal chandeliers, skylights, ivory painted walls, and soft blue carpet with an elaborate interweaving design like Celtic knotwork. The dais at the head of the room features a wood archway decorated with irises, lilies and roses of all colors, and some flowers I don't even recognize. More flowers, ribbons, and garlands decorate the walls and the chairs surrounding the tables set up on the carpet that surrounds the dancefloor like the sea around an island.

“...Looks like they were in the middle of a wedding.”

“Oh, good,” Zahra mutters. “Alodia is here to state the obvious. Dunno how we would've coped without that.”

I feel a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. “You like being the jerk, huh?”

“Wow, two in a row. You're on a roll.”

“What could've happened here?” Lila murmurs. “Everything's perfectly intact. The champagne's poured, the flowers arranged...”

“Just no people,” Quinn finishes.

“Maybe the bride realized that the institution of marriage is a joke and hightailed it outta here,” Zahra says. Lila gives her a look that is almost wounded.

“Marriage? A joke?”

I cast my eye over the beautiful set up. “Weddings like this don't mean a thing without true love,” I say almost to myself. “It's nice to have a big, beautiful ceremony, but as long as you're with your soulmate, who cares?”

Quinn smiles at me. “You really think that?”

I smile back. “Doesn't everyone?”

Zahra snorts. “At first I thought you were a captive of the marital-industrial complex, but it turns out you're even more of a sap. You believe in soulmates.”

“Guilty as charged,” I say with a shrug.

Zahra reaches for a bottle of white wine from the table nearest to her and pops the cork.

“Zahra!” Lila chides her, “that does not belong to us!”

“Gonna report me?” Zahra asks, pouring herself a glass. “To who exactly? Gimme a break. Last I checked, this was still a vacation.”

She fills another glass and offers it to me. I shrug and take the glass, clinking it against hers and taking a sip. Delicate, fruity sweetness floods my mouth, resting gently on my tongue before slipping down my throat with a warmth that just slightly tips into alcoholic burning.

“Woooah...I did not realize wine could be that good...”

“That is some seriously good stuff,” Zahra agrees. “They must've spent outta control on this.”

I offer Quinn my glass. “Wanna sip?”

“Oh, what the hell. Might never have the chance again, right?” She takes the glass. For a moment she tips it back and forth, watching the golden-yellow liquid ebb and flow against the sides of the glass before taking a swallow. She pauses, considering the flavor with a thoughtful expression, looking like an experienced vintner. After delicately smacking her lips once or twice, the takes the bottle from Zahra. She studies the label, and her eyes go wide.

“Look at this label! This wine was from 1922!”

“Zahra!” Lila shrieks. “You just uncorked an eight-hundred-dollar bottle of wine!”

Zahra burps. “Meh. It wasn't that good.”

“Hang on! Look!” I am already darting from table to table examining the other wine bottles. “Every bottle on every table at this wedding is pre-1924!”

“Who would spend that much on wine?”

Zahra raises her index finger like a cartoon detective. “The answer, as for most baffling questions, is 'crazy rich people'.”

Quinn looks askance at her for a moment before shaking her head dismissively. “Not sure what else we're going to find here, but we should probably head back and see what the others found.”

“Whatever,” Zahra says with a shrug. “But I'm bringing the booze.”

Everyone is already back in the lobby when we get there. I rejoin Diego.

“Find anything by the pool?”

“Nope. No one there. So much for the cabana boys,” he sighs. Then he grins. “But Aleister totally freaked out when Grace was nice to him.”

“We found something in the restaurant!” Craig annouces. “Well, kind of. It was on the volcano. But it was there...and then it was like...not!”

The rest of us stare at him for a long moment. Then Sean clears his throat.

“It was a light. Or something reflecting sunlight. It must have been rotating because we saw it in intervals.”

“We basically stumbled onto a wedding straight out of the Roaring Twenties,” Quinn says. “But...no people there, either.”

I notice Aleister standing off by himself. He is looking up at a towering painting of a goateed man in a brown suit, holding a sword of emerald. I feel my blood tingling in my veins again. I know his face. ...I've seen it leering down at me as I teetered on the edge of a volcano.

You don't understand, do you? Of course not. But you will...in time.

“Aleister...who is that?”

“Hrn? Oh...Alodia...That's Everett Rourke. C.E.O of Rourke International. The man who built this resort.”

“Rourke. ...I think I've seen him before.”

“Hmmph. Who hasn't? Visionary...genius...conquerer of every industry...” He looks up at the painting with what can only be described as bitter disdain. “I still think he looks like a fool.”

He turns and marches off, bumping right into Grace.

“Grace, I...uh...” He scowls. “Just watch where you're going!”

He brushes past her. Grace watches him go with such a wounded look that I can't help putting an arm around her. She looks up at me.

“Alodia, can we talk for a second? You seem like someone I can trust...”

“What is it? If it's about Aleister, I don't think you should take it personally. He--”

“No, no, it's not that...it's...” She shakes her head. “No...never mind. Sorry. I should go.”

I take my arm off her, studying her for a moment.

“...Alright...But if you've got a secret, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. ...But if you don't want to share it, that's all right, too.”

“...It...it is?”

“Sure. I trust if it's something important, you'll share it eventually.”

Grace pauses, biting her lip. Then, she pulls something from under her sweater.

“...I found this out by the pool. It was right by the fence. And the bars there were...twisted.”

I look at what she's showing me. It's a tooth. A massive, pointed tooth that she can just barely close her small hand around. My breath catches in my throat.

“Oh, my God! It's gotta be a foot long!”

“Whatever this came from, its big. ...I didn't want to share it because I was afraid it would scare everyone. The way it scared me. But...we're all in this together, and everyone should know.”

We gather the others to show them Grace's find.

“No way,” Jake breathes. “There's nothing with teeth that size these days. It has to be a fossil, right?” He looks around for confirmation from the rest of us, but no one is quite sure what to make of it.

“So...after all this,” Sean says, “we're saying we still have no idea where the staff and guests went?”

“All we've got is more questions,” Quinn concedes.

“So...what do we do now?” Zahra asks.

“You go to bed.” We all turn at the voice coming from behind us. The girl in the blue hoodie has reappeared. “Night is falling. You should all get some rest.”

“What is she?” Deigo whispers to me. “The Cheshire Cat?”

“Nope. Not nearly smiley enough,” I whisper back.

“Estela!” Lila exclaims. “There you are! Where have you been?”

“Looking around,” she says in an accent I can't quite place. “Same as you.”

“Did you find anything?” Michelle asks.

“Nothing that matters to you people.”

“Shouldn't you let us decide that?” I mutter.

She pins me with her piercing gaze. “...We've all got secrets.” She turns away and vaults the check-in desk, where she snatches a room key off the wall. “Like I said. Night is falling. I suggest you get some rest. You will need it.”

Without another word, she marches down the hall, leaving the rest of us in bewildered silence.

“...What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Sean mutters.

“Think she means it's nighttime, bro,” Craig quips.

“Well,” Lila says, “it is getting late, and we'll want to be ready to greet everyone when they return from...wherever. Please take the key to your assigned room from behind the desk.”

“Assigned?” Zahra scoffs. “Yeah right!”

She climbs behind the desk and selects a key shaped like a queen chess piece from a higher spot on the wall. She grins at us and twirls the keyring on her index finger.

“Hotel's empty, right? I'm taking a penthouse suite!”

Jake shrugs and grabs a decorative key for himself. “Don't mind if I do.”

Some of the others follow suit. Diego looks thoughtfully at the wall of keys.

“Gonna give yourself an upgrade, Allie?”

“Ah, what the hell.” I grab a key with a palm-tree shaped head. “You only live once, right?”

“Guess so.”  He grabs one with a head shaped like a fish. “...What do you think this one is?”

I grin. “Only one way to find out. Come on, let's stash our stuff.”

We ride the elevator to the penthouse level and head towards our respective rooms. I turn the key in the lock and push open the door. I am immediately hit with the scent of clean linen and carpet with just a touch of dust that permeates every hotel room I have ever been in. But there's another scent on top of it this time, something fresher and more natural. When I turn on the light, I see it probably has something to do with the tree in the center of the room that runs through the middle of a circular wooden table in the center of the room, and the vine garlands that run over the stone walls and wind around the pillars. Two rope hammocks form a right angle of sorts around the table.

The bathroom is done all in stone, making it look like a cave. Even the toilet is made to look like stone, although thankfully the lid and the seat are properly sanded wood. The shower is stone on all sides, except for the frosted glass door. There's also a deep hot tub, also decorated to look stone so that it resembles a pool at the bottom of a waterfall.

Slipping off my sandles, I let my feet sink into the plush mottled green and brown carpet and make my way into the bedroom, where amidst more vines and what looks like tribal masks hanging on the walls, a queen-sized canopy bed and stone nightstands wait for me. The whole suite's ceiling is a painted canopy of leaves, permeated by soft golden light that leaves dappled patterns on the objects beneath.

A knock on the door makes my heart quicken. I take a moment to peek at myself in the mirror and smooth my shirt before I open the door.

Deigo waits on the other side. “What's up?”

“Oh! Hi, Diego.”

He grins that knowing grin of his. “Expecting someone else?”

“What? No, I...”

“Yeah, uh-huh, sure.” He slings an arm over my shoulders. “I know you too well, Allie. If you're crushing on someone here, I'm gonna figure out who it is eventually. So you may as well tell me.”

“Oh, why would I spoil the fun of trying to figure it out for you?”

“Fair enough. Well, from the way you were making eyes, the gorgeous redhead is the most likely candidate right now. But the heart-stoppingly handsome Sean Gayle could also be a contender. Or...maybe the pilot with the bedroom eyes? He seems keen on you.”

I poke his temple. “Not telling. Too early to tell.”

When I shut the door, he seems to remember that he is in my room and looks around, whistling lowly.

“In the words of that old dude from Indiana Jones, you chose wisely. Is it too late to trade?”

“You snooze, you lose, pal. ...What did the fish key give you?”

“Coral Reef room.”

“That...actually sounds pretty cool.”

“It's not bad. The walls are aquariums. I like aquariums.” He wanders into the bedroom and bellyflops onto my bed. “Ohh, but this is nice. Especially at the end of a day like today.”

I flop down beside him and ruffle his hair. “Hey...what do you think is going on here?”

He rolls over onto his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Well, I know this is only because I watch an unhealthy amount of movies...but remember how I was saying I wanted this week to be an adventure? One that will stay with us forever? Maybe...just maybe, the universe is finally listening.” He shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Of course, given my luck with the universe, I'll probably be back to reality, getting bullied again come morning.”

His words make my heart squeeze. Diego puts up a goofy, irreverent front, even with me, but I'm also probably the only person who's ever allowed to see how vulnerable and insecure he really is—how much the years of vicious bullies, cruel slurs, and more than one broken heart have made him afraid to reveal too much of himself. All our lives, I've seen them mock him. I've heard them call him every ugly name in the book, attacking him for his race, his class, his sexuality, his shy and gentle nature. All our lives, I've been the one who's had his back when the bullies laid into him, and I've been the one to hold him when he's cried afterward. And these days, I think I'm the only one who really gets to see that beneath that layer of fear and insecurity, there is a kind, courageous, loyal, talented, creative, fucking beautiful soul that the world should be a lot more grateful for. Without Diego, I wouldn't have made it as far as I have. Without his pure love, loneliness would have crushed me a long time ago.

...I hate his bullies. I am terrified that they will break him one day. And I swore a long time ago that I would never let that happen.

“I think sometimes you've got to force the universe to listen,” I say. It's as close as I can get to voicing my true thoughts right now. ...And if you can't force it alone, Diego, I'll help. Always. You are my brother. You were my family when no one else would be...

He laughs. “And you say I'm the ridiculous one.”

“You are.” My retort earns me a pillow in my face. Probably well-deserved. But I still grab a pillow to retaliate. As I do, I hear the soft sound of something small falling behind the bed. I pause and turn to see what it is. I bend over the side of the bed and pick up a folded piece of paper.

“...Was that under the pillow?”

The paper is yellowed with age, and the edges are worn. I unfold it carefully and find a note written in elegant, looping script:

I must see you one last time before tomorrow. Meet me at our spot in Neptune Cove. Midnight.

“Sealed with a kiss,” I say, pointing to the lipstick print beneath the writing.

“Intriguing. Sounds like a steamy rendezvous. Neptune Cove's on the other side of the island. It's supposed to be real secluded and romantic. ...Hey, could that be where everyone went?”

“Wouldn't be much of a steamy rendezvous with an entire hotel's worth of guests watching. Besides, this letter looks like it's years old.”

“...But it was just sitting there under your pillow. ...This room doesn't look like it's been empty for years.”

“Maybe it belongs to one of the housekeeping staff? A memento from a grandparent or something that got dropped.”

Diego opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted by more knocking at the door. I get up and open the door.

“What up, what up, what uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!” Craig bellows, striding into the room. Followed by most of my classmates carrying bottles. “Wooooooah, sweet digs, Alodia!”

“We're heading to the pool for a rage,” Raj announces. “That's right! It's a Raj Rage!”

“...I thought we were all going to sleep.”

“We've got all the time in the world to sleep,” Zahra scoffs.

“Shots up!” Raj crows.

Diego nudges me and points out the window. I look down and see the rest of our classmates out by the pool, stringing up party lights. He grins at me.

“Hell yes. I was so hoping this would happen.”

“I don't know. It's pretty late...”

“Come on, Allie. We promised we would make the most of this trip. Every moment's a chance to find love, find a new adventure...maybe even find yourself.”

I can't help grinning. Affectionately mussing his hair feels like satisfying an itch. “All right, but only because you're too damn charming when you get philosophical.”

“All riiiiiiiight!” Raj yells, and starts chanting, “Alodia! Alodia!”

Craig picks up the chant. “Alodia! Alodia!”

Zahra rolls her eyes. “Fine...Alodia! Alodia!”

“Enough!” I laugh. “My name doesn't exactly make for a graceful chant!”

“It's a very graceful name, though,” Sean remarks, smiling at me.

“All right, stud,” Diego laughs, moving to usher everyone out, “save the flirting for when she's gotten into a bathing suit. And on that note, we should give her some privacy so she can do that.”

I swap my shorts and tank top for my black bikini with the neon firework print. Not my most elegant, but one of the sexiest I own. I run a comb through my honey-blonde hair, debate for a moment whether to pull it back, and decide against it. I head down to the pool, where Grace and Quinn are nearly finished stringing up the party lights all around the pool area. Like my bathroom, the pool is decorated all in stone. It even has a waterfall at the deep end. Upbeat pop music floats out from the speakers, loud enough to get in the blood without drowning out conversation.

“Oh, look who's come to join us!” Grace waves to me. I head over, admiring the job they've done with the lights.

“Love what you've done with the place. Where did you find the lights?”

“In the supply shed by the towels,” Quinn says. “And Grace rewired the circuits to make the lights sync with the music!”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Behind the poolside bar, Jake is shaking up cocktails. He slides a bloody mary over to Diego and gets started on the next one.

“How'd they rope you into tending bar?” Diego asks after taking a sip. “You lose a bet?”

“Ha! As if I've ever lost a bet! You should have seen the kind of drinks these maniacs were pouring.” He jerks his head at Craig. “Drax over here just filled his to the brim with cinnamon whiskey.”

“What? I call it the Aggro-Craig. It's my go-to.”

Jake finishes the cocktail he's mixing and slides it to Craig. “Try that.”

Craig eyes it suspiciously for a moment before taking a swig. His eyes go wide. “Wha...Woah! That just blew my mind!”

“It's called a Sazerac. Consider yourself enlightened.”

I put my elbows on the bar. “Can I get something?”

“I'm gonna be pouring drinks all night, aren't I? Okay, Princess, what's your poison?”

“Here's a challenge for you. Make a new drink inspired by me.”

He smiles thoughtfully. “Inspired by you, huh? Hmm...” He gives me a long, searching look. “Okay, I think I've got something.”

He turns around and gets to mixing, preparing it under the bar so I can't see what he's adding. He brings up a martini glass filled with a multicolored liquid, garnished with sugar on the rim and a slice of orange. I take a sip and smack my lips.

“Huh. That's all over the place. Salty and sweet, tangy and bitter, dry and fruity...”

“Yeah. It doesn't know what it wants to be just yet. But I think it has the potential to be anything.”

In spite of myself, I feel myself blush. “That's...surprisingly thoughtful.”

“You had to qualify that with 'surprisingly,' huh?” he teases. “I can't be 'typically' thoughtful?”

“Nope. Now it's your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Other side of the bar, Top Gun. I'm making you a drink now.”

“Ah, hell. I have a bad feeling about this.”

But he comes around the bar and takes my seat. I slip behind the bar and salt a martini glass. I grin at Jake as I mix a bit of this and that and top the concoction off with an olive. I slide it over to him. He picks up the glass and looks at the cloudy mixture inside.

“...Looks okay.” He takes a sip and coughs. “Gah! Looks good, but wow, is that bitter. That's a drink that has people making very bad decisions.”

“Exactly. Why do you think I call it the Jake?”

He grabs the bar towel and flicks it at me. “Oh, you think you're funny, do you? That's it! You're cut off! Get out of here!”

I laugh and scoop up my drink, wandering over to the lounge chairs where Diego has made himself comfortable. He passes me a skewer of grilled shrimp and vegetables.

“You've got to try one of these. Raj made them.”

I slip a mushroom off the end and pop it into my mouth. I squish it between my molars, and tangy juice floods my mouth, blending with the perfect mix of spices that coats its surface. “Oh, my GOD that is amazing!”

“I know, right? Next Memorial Day, let's get Raj to cook the burgers.”

“Oh, come on! That was weeks ago! Am I ever going to live that down?”

He grins. “Sure you will. When I stop finding bits of charred burger meat on my dental floss.”

I point the skewer at him like a sword. “En guarde! You'll pay for such slander, knave!”

“Hey! Who's up for Marco Polo?” Sean is in the water with his arms propped on the edge of the pool.

Diego points at me. “She is! She is! Seriously, make her play before she skewers me!”

“Well, Alodia? You in?”

“...I'm in.” I put down my skewer. “Diego, you're spared for now.”

“You'll never hurt me. You love me too much.”

I stick out my tongue at him and slip into shallow end of the pool beside Sean. The water temperature is perfect, and I take a moment to savor it as it laps at my belly.

“Fair warning, I'm basically considered the Sean Gayle of Marco Polo.”

“That's high praise,” Sean concedes. “But don't get cocky. I could win this game with my eyes closed!” He mimes a rimshot and strikes an exaggerated pose, waiting for my reaction. I can't help it. I laugh.

“You're lucky you're cute. That's the only reason you get away with bad jokes like that.”

“I made you laugh,” he says triumphantly. “That's all I wanted to hear.”

“Well, Mister Smooth, you can be 'it' then. Let's see if you've got the moves to back up your mouth.”

He obligingly closes his eyes. The rest of us swim around him, evading his outstretched hands. A few “Marco! Polo!” calls and responses lead him in my direction. He dives at me. I lunge right, but he's too quick for me. He slips under the water and wraps his arms around my waist, eliciting a shriek. He brings his head back above the water.

“Gotcha!”

“You got lucky!” I protest.

“Is that so? Think you can catch me?”

“It is so on!”

I swim to the middle of the pool and close my eyes. “Marco!”

“Polo!” comes the chorus of answering voices. I focus on Sean's smooth baritone, coming from my right.

“Marco!”

“Polo!” His voice comes from behind me this time. I turn towards it.

“Marco!”

“Polo!”

There is movement right in front of me. I lunge. My hands slide over Sean's broad chest, slick from the water.

“Ha! Got you!”

He laughs. “All right, all right, you win!”

“Thought you were supposed to be this elusive star quarterback, but I tackled you so easy!”

“Guess you just know how to read me,” he says, giving a smile that makes my knees feel weak. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Michelle glaring at us from a poolside lounge chair.

“...Michelle doesn't look too happy. What's the deal with you two, anyway?”

“We're...” he trails off, closing his eyes. He is silent for a long time.

“...You...don't have to tell me.”

“Look, don't get me wrong. Michelle's great. She's a lot nicer than she comes off. But...” He opens his eyes. “Alodia, have you ever been with someone who's dating an expectation of you, instead of the real thing?”

I think back to a few lovers I left behind at Hartfeld. “...Yeah...I think I know what you mean...”

“It's not her fault. I think she was just raised to care about status. And that means dating the quarterback. Whoever he is.”

“She's lucky he turned out to be a great guy like you. Seriously, the quarterback at my high school in California was an asshole.”

He chuckles. “...Still...I need something different in my life. I don't want to be a symbol. I want to be a person. That's why I wanted to go on this trip. I didn't realize she'd be picked too. But I'm not going to let that stop me from being the real me for a week...from making real connections with people.”

“...How's that going so far?”

He reaches an arm around to scratch the back of his head and beams at me. It's not the TV-ready grin I've seen him flash before. ...This is a shy, genuine sort of smile. This smile does a lot more than make my knees weak.

“Promising,” he says softly. “I'll keep you posted.”

I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone totally dry. “...Promising.”

“...You all right? Your eyes just went really wide all of the sudden.”

I put on a winning smile of my own. “I'm great.”

“Hey, Allie!” Diego calls from the bar. “Come here a sec, will ya?”

“Gotta run, Sean. See ya later?”

“Absolutely.”

I swim over to the side of the pool and hoist myself out. Diego passes me a towel.

“What's up?”

“Look who's kinda sorta shown up.” He directs his gaze to a spot up and over my shoulder. I turn to look at see Estela sitting on a cliff side overlooking the party. She catches my gaze and holds it for a moment, but this time she's the one who looks away.

“...I'm...gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna know what she's about.”

“Good luck.”

I slip on my clothes and flipflops and exit the pool area through the gate. I head towards the beach, passing the supply shed and shelves of towels. Back here, the overhead lights flicker, leaving wide pools of darkness. Something else catches my eye. Not only are there towels on the shelves, but there are also at least two dozen woven blankets. Probably for picnics and the like. I grab one and drape it over my shoulders before heading up the path towards the cliff where Estela is sitting with her legs dangling over the edge. She turns sharply as I approach.

“Who's there?” she growls.

“Woah! Hey! It's just me.”

“What do you want?”

“Just thought you might like a little company.” I sigh. This was probably a bad idea. “Sorry to have bothered you.” I turn to leave.

“...Wait. ...Stay...”

I turn back. Her long hair obscures her face, but I think I can see her eyes shimmering. I shrug and come to sit beside her. For a moment, we sit in silence, watching the sea roll against the rocks below. I take the blanket off my shoulders.

“I brought you a blanket...if you're cold.” I hold it out to her, but she recoils, eyeing it suspiciously.

“...Why?”

“...I don't know...to be nice?”

She accepts the blanket and wraps it around her shoulders. “...Thank you.” She turns her gaze skyward. I lean back, propping myself up on my elbows to gaze with her. The stars seem to go on forever here.

“...Where I am from,” she says after a moment, “people don't do things for you without expecting something in return.”

“...Maybe people just want to be liked in return.”

“Isn't that pathetic? How lonely we all are? But at least you're honest about it...”

We sit together in silence for a moment, gazing up at the infinite ceiling of stars. The air is balmy, but a cool breeze blows in from the sea. Cool enough that it makes me shiver.

“...You're cold, too.” She scoots closer and drapes half the blanket over my shoulders. I nestle close to her.

“That was nice of you.”

She smiles in a manner that can only be described as cautious. Two lights that might be shooting stars streak across the sky.

“...Beautiful sky tonight,” I remark. Estela abruptly abandons her place under the blanket, standing sharply.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why? What's wrong?”

“...Look, Alodia. People in my life usually end up being hurt. And I don't mean their feelings.”

“Estela...”

“You seem like a good person. I don't want that to happen to you.” She walks off without another word, disappearing into the darkness.

I am not sure how long I sit there in stunned silence before getting up and wandering back towards the pool. I don't see Estela at the party when I get back. I have no idea where she could have gone.

“Woo! Let's do this!” Craig's bellowing snaps me back to the present. I look up to find him perched at the edge of the nearby gazebo, poised to jump into the pool.

“Craig!” Aleister cries. “That is clearly against pool regulations!”

“Oh, yeah? I don't see anything that says, 'No Badasses Allowed'!”

He takes a flying leap and tucks into a cannonball, slamming into the pool. A tsunami explodes from the spot and soaks everyone standing poolside.

Diego spits out a mouthful of water. “Blah! Pool water!”

I immediately dissolve into helpless giggles. Craig pops his head above the water, whooping triumphantly. That only makes me giggle harder. I double over, clutching my sides.

“I...I'll go get everyone some towels,” I say when I can breathe again.

I go back to the supply shed, stepping carefully in the half-light. I drape one towel after another over my arm, carefully counting out enough for everyone.

Something rustles nearby me. I pause and turn, peering past the fence into the dark rainforest. The bright moonlight can't penetrate the thick canopy. I don't see anything right away. But the rustling comes again. I step a little closer. And then again. I sense movement. A ripple of muscle under flesh and fur, a sinewy shadow...and a pair of golden eyes piercing the darkness.

I scream, staggering backwards. My foot catches something and I tumble hard onto the sand, landing on my back. I hear the sound of rushing feet, and voices calling my name.

“Alodia!” Sean kneels beside me, helping me sit up. “Are you okay?”

Diego is at my other side, his hand on my shoulder. “What happened?”

I can't answer right away. I point a shaking finger at the rainforest past the fence.

“Did you see something?” Quinn asks.

Jake steps a little closer to the fence. “...What was it?”

I am silent a moment. ...Whatever it was, it's not there anymore. The gleaming pair of eyes have vanished.

“I...I have no idea...”

[stilinskiimagines]

Three For One Deal//Stilinski Triplets - Part 5

Should I change this to quadruplets???

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Thomas Stilinski, Stuart Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Malia Tate, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Kira Yukimura, Reader.

Homecoming night was finally here. You, Thomas, Malia, Stiles, Stuart, and Lydia all decided to go together. Lydia and Malia both came to your house to get ready.

“Okay, so should I do my hair up?” Malia pulls her hair up to her hairline, looking at her reflection.

Lydia shakes her head. “Wear it down.” She pulls Malia’s hair down, pushing it up to give it volume.

You stand in your bathroom, curling your hair.

“I really love this jewel thing we have going on.” Lydia pokes her head into the bathroom.

“What do you mean?” You look over at her as you release a curl from the iron.

“Y'know, you’re emerald, Mal is ruby, and I’m sapphire.” She smiles.

“I never thought about that.” You laugh. “That’s cute.”

You all take turns doing hair and makeup. You slip your dress on and Lydia pulls the zipper up, smiling at you as you step back. “Thomas is one lucky guy.”

“Lyd, we’re just going as friends.”

She makes a face, “Okay then.”

You slide your heels on, the tall silver pumps making you a couple inches taller. You stand up and look at yourself in the mirror, smiling at the work you’ve done.

The knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. “I’ll get it. You guys finish getting ready.”

“Oh, I’m done. I’ll come with you.” Malia follows you down the stairs.

You open the door, Malia standing behind you.

Stuart stands in front of the door. grinning at the sight of his date.

“Babe.” Stuart grins, taking Malia’s hand as he steps inside. “You look amazing.”

“Where’s Stiles and Tommy?” You ask.

“Oh, they’re coming. I think they’re in the car.”

“Okay, I’m going to run upstairs really quick. Tell Thomas I’ll be right down.”

You quickly make your way upstairs, touching up your lipstick before you step back into your room.

“I thought you were done.” Lydia looks at you.

“Yeah, I am. I just wanted to grab my camera. Mom’ll want pictures.”

“Oh, okay.” Lydia nods.

You head back downstairs with your camera around your wrist.

“Y/N, you look so nice!” Your mom takes the camera from you.

You thank her and walk into the living room with everyone else.

“Y/N…” Thomas smiles as you walk in. He’s wearing a tux with a green bow tie that matches your dress. He’s actually done something with his hair, the product he’s put in it makes it fall in soft curls across his forehead.

You look up at him and bite your lip, “Hey.”

“You look gorgeous.” He holds his hand out for you. You take his hand and step beside him, smiling at him.

“Thank you. You clean up well.” You joke.

He gives you a once over, “You look…amazing. God, I can’t get over it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “Thanks.”

Stiles walks in the room, spinning his keys on his index finger. “Hey, Scott and Kira are com-” He stops midsentence when he sees you. “Y/N, you look beautiful.”

You smile, “Thanks, Stiles.”

Thomas snakes his arm around your waist and you smile even more.

Stiles continues to look at you before approaching you. He leans down to your ear and whispers, “You look stunning. Drop dead gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” You nod and look up at him. He stands in the corner of the room, staring at you.

Lydia walks into the room, making her way to Stiles.

“You look nice.” Stiles looks at her and smiles before turning his attention back to you.

Scott and Kira come in, greeting everyone.

“Is everyone here?” Your mom asks.

“Yeah, looks like it.” You nod.

Your mom takes pictures and you all split up and head to the dance.

Thomas helps you out of his truck, “Hey, I forgot to give you this.” He hands you a corsage. It’s white, made up of roses.

“Thomas, it’s beautiful.” You look up at him and smile.

“Just like you.” He gives you a lopsided grin. “Here, let me help you put it on.” He takes it out of the box and you extend your wrist. He fastens the corsage around your wrist and smiles at you.

“Perfect.”

You smile and kiss his cheek, “Thank you.”

You make your way inside, the dance full of sweaty, grinding teenagers.

“Wow.” Thomas says plainly.

“What else did you expect?” You laugh.

“Should we join?” He gestures toward the crowd.

“Fine with me.” You smile. You catch Stiles’ eye. He watches you from the corner of the room, standing with Lydia. She talks to him but he looks totally uninterested.

You dance with Thomas, his hands around your waist.

“I don’t think I ever expected us to be dancing together at homecoming…ever.” Thomas chuckles.

“Yeah? Me either. I’m glad we’re here though.” You smile.

“Me too.” He brushes hair away from your face and you smile.

The two of you end up sitting most of the time, laughing your asses off. He was so fun to be around, you enjoyed the time you spent with him, no matter what you were doing.

Lydia runs up to you. “Are you coming to the after party?”

“What after party?” You look up at Lydia, Thomas’ hand rubbing your lower back.

“Mine. Duh.” She smiles.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were having one.” You look at Thomas and he shrugs.

“It’s tradition. I always have one. Anyway, you two better be there. I have to go find Stuart and Malia. No doubt they’re off humping in a closet somewhere.” She turns on her heel.

You look at Thomas, the both of you laughing.

Stiles comes and sits beside you, staring at Thomas’ hand on your back. “Can I steal her for a bit?” He looks at his brother.

“Where’d Lydia go?” Thomas looks around, putting emphasis on Lydia’s name.

“Looking for Stu. She’ll be awhile.”

You look at Thomas, frustration all over his face. “Go ahead.”

Stiles takes your hand and leads you back to the dance floor. “How are things with Lydia? I know you’ve been waiting to make a move for awhile.” You smile.

“Yeah..it’s uh..different.” He nods. He’s being weird.

You talk for awhile before going to look for Thomas. You step out into the hallway, deciding to make a run to one of the vending machines. You spot the back of his head rounding the corner. You speed up and chase after him, stopping dead in your tracks when you see his lips on someone else’s.

“Tommy?” You step backward.

He immediately pulls away from the girl in front of him. “Y/N…”

“I uh…I’m going to…” You turn quickly, trying to exit the hallway as quickly as possible.

“Y/N! Wait!” Thomas ran after you. You decide to head to Lydia’s you wanted to get as drunk as possible, as fast as possible.

You weren’t quite sure why your feelings were so hurt. You’d always thought of Thomas as a friend, but your heart hurt.

You push Lydia’s front door open, grabbing the first alcoholic drink you can get your hands on. You down two Jell-O shots, heading straight to the kitchen for a beer.

“Woah, you might want to slow down.” Lydia glances at you.

You don’t speak a word, you just go to the living room, sitting on the couch full of people. The room is hazy with smoke, everyone in the room with you passing around a joint.

The guy next to you nudges you, holding out the cigarette. You shake your head, taking another sip of your beer.

You stare off into space, going to get another beer when you finish your first one. You felt hurt, deeply hurt. You had no backing to your feelings you just couldn’t help it.

“Woah there. You look pretty wasted already.” You feel hands on your shoulders as you grab another beer, the lukewarm liquid doing nothing but making you feel fuzzy.

“Hey, Theo.” You take a big gulp of your beer.

“Who’re you drinking for?” He smiles and grabs a beer for himself.

“Huh?” You look at him.

“You wouldn’t drink like that for no reason.”

“What if I am?” You lean forward and he smirks.

“Okay, I guess that could be possible.” He laughs. “How’ve you been? I haven’t talked to you in awhile.”

“I’m okay, I guess. What about you, Mr. Raeken?” You laugh.

“I’m fantastic. Even better now that I’m talking to you.”

“Oh wow. Do you use that line on every girl?” You laugh at his bad pick-up line.

“Only the pretty ones.”

“It gets worse.” You laugh as you drink from your cup.

You spot Thomas come in the front door, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. “Come with me.” You nod at Theo before leading him upstairs to Lydia’s guest bedroom.

“At least take me to dinner first, Jesus Y/N.” He raises an eyebrow as you close the door behind you.

“I’m not in here to have sex with you, don’t be so narcissistic.” You roll your eyes.

“Then what are we doing?”

“Hiding. Just shut up.” You put your ear to the door. You know Thomas saw you come up here.

“Y/N?” He shouts.

“You’re hiding from a Stilinski?” He asks. You don’t reply. “Of course you are. The Stilinski’s get all the girls.”

You turn and raise an eyebrow. “Who do you want?”

“What?”

“You said the Stilinski’s get all the girls. You obviously want one of the girls they supposedly get. Who is it?”

Theo says nothing, he just stands and looks at you.

“You’re an idiot. Come on.” You grab his arm and pull him downstairs.

“You definitely hang around the Stilinski’s too much.” He rubs his arm where you pulled him.

All three of the boys hated him with all of their might, all for different reasons. But the mention of Theo Raeken was means for an exorcism in that household.

You sit on the love seat with him, a fresh beer in your hand.

“You’re very well composed for an extremely intoxicated girl.” Theo observes.

“I’m not that intoxicated.” You shrug. “I handle alcohol well.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Theo looks over at you.

“Two Jell-O shots and this is my third beer.”

“Good lord.” He laughs.

You sit and talk for awhile, getting to know each other.

“It’s you.” Theo says out of the blue.

“Huh?” You’re on your fifth beer by now.

“It’s you. The girl that the Stilinski’s have and I want.”

“Me?” You choke on your beer.

“Yeah.” His eyes take in your body. “Definitely.”

“Maybe that’s something we could arrange.” You cock your head at him.

“When do you propose we do that?”

“I’m thinking now.” You sit your cup on the table beside you, climbing onto Theo’s lap. His hands grip both of your ass cheeks, pulling you against him. He bites his lip as you smirk at him. You push your lips against his, desperately searching for a feeling, a connection that could separate you from Thomas. You feel nothing, just a horny teenage boy who only wants to get in your pants. You were drunk and you were going to let him.

You end up back in the guest room. You can’t even remember when you got up there. You wake up in only Theo’s shirt, your panties nowhere to be found.

You groan and roll out of the bed, searching for your undergarments. You finally find them and slide them up your legs.

“Hey, you’re up.” Theo sits up, his hair sticking out in fifty different directions.

The sound of his voice felt like it pierced your skull. “Shhh. Shut up.” You put a hand out to him.

“I knew you were wasted.” He chuckles.

“What don’t you understand about shut up?” You glare at him as you put your bra on.

He shrugs and climbs out of the bed, only wearing a pair of boxers. You throw his shirt at him after taking it off and you slip your dress back on. A million thoughts are racing through your head, but only one sticks out.

You slept with Theo Raeken.

[rhinozilla]

Fic prompt: Daryl reminisces about his mother.

(Atthe moment, I’ve run out of fucks to give about the canon timeline. So if thisdoesn’t line up, right now I just don’t care. XD)

–

He’dheard Eric call it “Birthday Hangover,” and shit if that wasn’t the truth.

Maybeit wasn’t literal, a kid’s first birthday wasn’t exactly the time to get hammered,but damn it felt about the same.

And,yeah, Judith’s birthday was more or less an arbitrary day that Carl and Rickpicked out and decided on, figuring it was close enough to when she wasactually born. They’d been determined to focus on the little girl yesterday,not dwell on all the stuff that happened on that day or on all the days betweenthen and now…That’s what today was for: birthday hangover.

Goddamn, had it only been a year? Since the prison, since Lori, since Merle andAndrea and Hershel and T-Dog and Beth and Terminus and the Claimers and theWolves, and finding Alexandria, and Abraham and Glenn and Noah andTyreese…losing Carol, finding Carol, losing her again, finding her again, andnearly losing her a third time…Carl losing an eye, Maggie getting pregnant, thefact that either of those two had been functional yesterday at all…

Thenthere’d been Judith, wearing half of the cake that Carol had made for her,giggling and happy to be the center of attention.

Darylsnorted, sitting on the front porch steps of the house, turning a cigaretteover in his fingers. It was the last one in his last pack. It had been the lastone for a while. He wasn’t sure if he was saving it on purpose or…if he justhadn’t had the urge to light it up. He looked at it as he fiddled with it,watching the old familiar way his fingers held it.

Hismom had used to say that you could tell a Dixon by the way he smoked, by theway he held the cigarette. His old man, Merle, his uncle, all them heldcigarettes like they held darts: pinching the middles hard enough to bend thesticks…like the damn thing was trying to run away from them. They shoved theends into their mouths, bit into them with their teeth enough to leave dents,smoked them to the butt and put them out on their boot heels.

Hismom had said, just once or twice, under her breath, that you could tell a Dixonby the way he held his cigs because it was the same way he held his women.

Hewas sure nobody had been meant to hear her say it; she’d been drunk andslurring her words both times he’d heard her…She was lucky he’d been the onlyone to hear her and too young at the time to understand what she meant.

Thescreen door behind him creaked open and closed, and casual footsteps came upbehind him. Carl sank down to sit on the other side of the steps, lookingheavier and wearier than he had 24 hours previous. He’d foregone the hat todayand the bandage, and yeah, it was hard not to stare. Daryl managed by keepinghis eyes on the cigarette.

Carlsighed and twisted in his seat side to side a few times until his back cracked.

“Goddamn,” Daryl cursed with a wince. “Cut that shit out, makes me hurt.”

Carlsnickered and stretched. “Can’t help it.” He saw the cigarette in his hands.“You gonna smoke that or keep staring at it?”

Somethingabout the way he asked made Daryl pause. He gave the teen a sideways look.

“Why,you wantin’ it?”

Carlhesitated just a beat before snorting and shaking his head. “Nah, dude.”

“Good.Shit’ll kill ya,” Daryl grunted, taking out his lighter from his pocket.

Carlturned a bit to face him more. “Don’t you think that’s stupid?”

Darylcanted his head. “For all intents and purposes.”

“Imean, those things are addictive, but they aren’t being made anymore. Theyaren’t even a priority to keep making. You’re just setting yourself up for—“

“A’right,Uncle Carl, you come out here to lecture me?” Daryl spoke out the side of hismouth, the other side holding the cigarette as he held the lighter to it.

Theflame caught, and he puffed on it once until it started to burn.

“Beensmokin’ since I was your age. Heard enough lectures ‘tween now and then to knowI’m a lost cause.”

Carlheld up his hands in surrender and let them flop back over his knees.“Whatever.”

Kidlooked and sounded too much like Lori when he was disappointed like that.

Darylbreathed out smoke and held the cigarette away from his face, inspecting it.“Last one anyway.”

“Oh,yeah, okay.”

“Seriously,don’t got no more. Like you said, ain’t a priority nowadays to keep ‘em around.Got more important things, so…last hurrah.”

Hedidn’t resume smoking it, watching the tip glow instead. At his periphery, hesaw Carl shift, pause, and then gear himself up. When the kid reached over andtook the cigarette from him, Daryl didn’t offer up any resistance, just gavehim a raised eyebrow look.

Carl’sfingers held the cigarette in an awkward imitation of how it probably looked tohim in the movies. The way dames in film noir held them, leaving lipsticksmudges on the ends and breathing smoke toward the ceiling. He’d only ever seenhis mom smoke like that, lying in bed with her wine in the other hand. Darylgrimaced and pushed away the memory.

Carlwas visibly waging a war in his head as he held the cigarette closer. Then hequickly put the end in his mouth and tried to smoke it. ‘Tried’ being the keyword. He inhaled and immediately recoiled, yanking the cigarette away from hisperson and holding it out as he coughed and hacked at the alien burn.

Darylcouldn’t help it: he laughed at him.

“Shit,that—that is horrible,” Carl coughed, eyes watering as he tried to breathe.

Daryltook the cigarette back, watching him struggle.

Forjust a moment, he thought back to the CDC, the whole group watching Carl try asip of wine. His exaggerated disgust and Lori’s happy remark at his reactionhad had them all chuckling.

“Toldyou,” he said, with zero sympathy.

“Whydid you let me even—“ Carl was using the neck of his shirt to wipe off histongue.

“Youcan tell somebody not to touch a hot stove all day long, but that lesson getslearned a lot quicker if you let ‘em touch it once,” Daryl nodded. “That’s anancient Dixon proverb.”

“Yourfamily was full of assholes,” Carl coughed, rubbing his chest.

Daryltilted his head. “Yeah, it was…mostly.”

OnceCarl got over his little episode, the two sat in the quiet for a few minutes,watching Alexandria chug along its morning routine.

Carlpropped his forearms on his knees, watching some passersby. “It’s really onlybeen a year. Weird how things are already…The way things were a year ago…Whatyou start to forget…”

Darylhummed, taking a long drag from the cigarette. He let the smoke burn around inhis lungs for a moment before tipping his head and exhaling toward the roof ofthe porch.

“Sorryabout your mom,” he stated plainly.

Carlseemed to release a breath he hadn’t meant to be holding. His posture relaxed abit, and his shoulders drooped.

“Sorryabout yours,” he murmured.