#AND it wasn’t plain tea and/or lemonade

[allalrightagain]

Y’all I just ordered a starbucks drink right off the menu without having to custom order and take half of it out 👀

What a world we’re living in

[spaceshipsoutthepool]

Sulk in the Sun🍹

Ao3 link

While it’s quite out of character to do so; Penny loses her cool and storms off. Although it isn’t ladylike to admit that. Brains comes to join her by the pool. And of all people, is the one to try and talk her out of potential leaving International Rescue.

Boom! last fic of the year bay-beeee. Happy 2024

Story under the cut for those who prefer to read here

Lady Penelope was never a sun chaser. Or comfort­able in great heat. Much as she was trying to relax. Forcing herself to relax might be the more operative term.

"Oh, I'd much rather be wrapped up in layers. With a walk on the heath any day.” she thought moodily, looking out over the ocean again. rather than facing the sunlight like the fellow tourists topping up their tans. “Bring on winter. It's probably a lovely chilly autumn day back home!”

Around the pool (but not actually in it), holiday makers and expats alike were turning over and over for an even bronze. Penelope privately thought most were cooking themselves to walnuts; all oiled brown and wrinkly. She decided she probably looked silly; sat in the near shade wearing a cover wrap and a large sun hat. And then decided she didn't care. Not particularly. Just like she didn’t care for this resort. And she didn’t care about International Rescue. No, not at all.

Penelope again tried to put ‘the day job’ from her mind. And tried to focus on just the sea breeze coming over the cliff side. The blue ocean. and blue almost cloudless sky stretching on for ever and ever. And somewhere out there, just beyond the horizon and further hidden by several clever mirage devices, hidden in plain sight was Tracy Island…

Drat.

"Your drink, M’Lady?"

Penelope did not jump. She refused to. Parker was now hovering at her side again, ever the faithful English butler. Even in his holiday cream chinos.

"Parker. You're on holiday too.” she scolded. “Do desist bullying the resort staff out of their jobs!"

"Begging your pardon milady. But they can't make a mixer or -pardon me language- a blooming cup of tea right.” He explained. “Not to your particular way of liking, at any rate."

Penelope sighed. He had a point.

"I do appreciate it, Parker. But you are fussing.”

“Sorry, milady.”

“Really. The world won't end just because of a little spilt milk or life providing lemons for the lemonade..." she said, taking the drink from the tray. then added with a rather viscous look back out to sea. "Despite what our American friends think."

"Quite? Erm...” Parker hesitated. It seemed he was not, for all their year's together, sure how to address a Ladyship whose pride had been wounded. Discussing Common enemies or wrong uns sure. Not catty remarks about ol’ pals and friendships possibly soured.

“Well… I’ll be off then? if you say so milady?"

"I do. Please Parker, go off and enjoy yourself?" She said, then added, “Preferably without a casino in sight?”

Parker sighed.

“No more gambling wot I ain’t got m’lady. You have my word on that. But.” Again, Parker hesitated. Then cleared his throat.

"If I might be so bold as to say so, milady-?"

"No. You may not." Penelope snubbed. And stubbornly turned back to the picture esc view.

“…Very good, m’lady.” Parker snubbed right back. Penelope sat tense, purposely ignoring him as he departed. then cursed her bad temper as even Parker left her too sit and stew.

Villains and hazards she could handle with ease. Emotions, or more unpleasant feelings, she’d always rather hated facing. Creighton-Wards don’t do very good at that. Especially without something constructive or some engagement to throw herself into.

“I wasn’t made for relaxing on sunbeds.” She thought. “That clearly skipped a generation.”

She did persevere, however, between sipping the fruity drink and reading the awful bad romance thriller book she’d brought with her.

(she’d initially brought the new hit bestseller to hide the history journal she had actually been reading. It wouldn’t do for the British tabloid press to think she wasn’t such a blonde. But then Diane had said the Book was so awful, it was actually good. So, Penelope had tried to read it for real. Then decided while she could trust Diane one many things, life and death things even; book recommendations was not one of them.)

The book, however bad, wasn't exciting enough to take her mind off things. Not properly. But She absolutely was not going to lose her temper, again or spend the whole holiday shut up in her room. Nor was she going to cry or shed one single tear over Jeff bloody Tracy. Or Scott for that matter. She hadn’t so far and was not about to start. Certainly not in public, thank you very much.

Lady Penelope was just debating if she should give it up? And see what the on-site gym had to offer, hoping to physically run away from her troubles. But when she went to sit up her ribs to remind her why she was on a ‘relaxing holiday’ in the first place. Trying not to wince was extra hard when she heard Parker’s heavy footsteps. (The ex-cat burglar was deliberately making himself heard and not sneak up on her again.) Instead, Penelope repressed a groan. not even forty minutes had gone past since she’d asked to be left in peace!

"Begging your pardon again ma'am. but there’s a gentleman wishing to speak to you?"

"If it’s anyone with the surname Tracy on the telephone I do not wish to speak to them." She snapped, not looking up from the book.

"Good thing it ain’t on the phone, then." Parker cut back, rather brutishly. then asked, "What can I get you to drink, young sir?"

"J-Just a c- cold soft drink please, Parker."

"Brains?!"

"H-hi Lady Penelope.”

Penelope bolted up (ouch) and lifted her sunglasses. Sure enough, there was International Rescues resident genius. He gave a little wave, as Parker gave a little nod and left. "My dear boy, how splendid to see you! What on earth are you doing here?"

“I’m dropping in on you, a-apparently. If that’s okay?" Brains smiled, sitting on the sun lounger next to hers. The young man stuck out like a sore thumb in his vest, shirt and tie. But despite the heat and the awkward way he held himself, (as if the lounger would bite him if he were to put his feet up,) Brains didn't seem to mind. Mind, Penelope supposed he was used to the heat of the southern hemisphere.

“I-I hope, I'm not interrupting anything?”

“Only my own ruminating. How did you know where I was?" She asked, astonished, putting down the rubbish paperback. Then narrowed her eyes at him. "And why are you here, even? Did someone put you up to this?"

Brains’ hands went up sharpish in surrender, like she’d levelled a pistol at him.

"N-no. no one! I came of my own accord.” He said. Then amended, putting his arms down. “Well a-actually, no. That's not true. I was coming here. Solo. then l-lost my nerve? and Tin-tin bullied me into actually going through with this. And then flew me here!"

Penelope whipped around. (Her ribs didn’t like that.) Tin-tin sat at the outdoor bar, looking resplendent in tangerine. with a drink to match. seeing she’d been spotted, Miss Kyrano saluted her.

"Tin-Tin said if you like, she's up for a trip out into town. but she’s also said to tell you she’s not coming over until she knows you definitely won’t judo throw her over the cliff. or be cross with her for bringing me over.” Brains explained.

“I would never-!” Penelope said aghast. Then remembered the rather vicious exchanging of words that had led to her checking into the resort rather than staying on Tracy Island. “…Not the first option at least.”

“T-that’s fair. And as for the how, John tracked the heli-jet to the mainland, and locating your communications was very simple. That and this is one of the nearest luxury adults only resorts to the airport. Tracy Industries has a gold card- “

"Oh of course he does." Penelope scoffed. And then felt a teensy bit bad for throwing Brains off his track.

Brains nervously cleared his throat. and continued. "Yes. to a suite? We stay here if the weather is too bad to get back across from supplies runs with the jet or the Ladybird. so, we simply walked onto site, dropped off our bags; Tin-tin got changed and then we came looking for you."

“Right. Well Brains, you’ve found me. Congratulations…”

Brains shifted nervously as she scrutinised him. Then turned away, pulling back down her sunglasses.

"A-a Penny for them, Lady Penelope?" Brains tried when the silence stretched a little too long.

"Right now, my thoughts do not make for good company." Penelope said coolly, not accolading the pun on her name, intentional or not.

Then sighed, rubbing her temple.

"My apologies. You are a pip for coming out to see me. I shouldn't take it out on you. Or dear old Parker, either for that matter."

"Less of the old." She thought she heard. Penelope glanced back to the bar where her butler was taking an awfully long time to fetch Brains his pop.

Penelope took off her sunglasses, folding them neatly back into their case.

"But Brains? Dear if you've come to apologise on their behalf or ask me to come back to the island, don’t bother. and I’m not apologising either, so don’t waste your time asking me too!" She said, feeling rather childish. Then added. “Even if it is bad form."

"No, I didn’t. And-and I'm not going to do that. I-I c c ccc.”

Brains paused and took a breath before continuing.

“I came on my behalf. Admittedly with a push. No one bar John was informed where we were heading. Just off base. And as for saying sorry-?”

“What about it?”

“Well, I think you’re both in the wrong? if it matters, Lady Penelope.” He said sincerely.

Penelope shot him a look that sent ‘stronger men’ running normally. This time Brains wasn’t affected.

“However, you came to Tracy Island for r-rest and recovery. And I’m sorry you fell out with Scott and Mr Tracy. That I will a-a-pp-p. That I am sorry for.” He continued. “I wanted to make sure you're okay. Really?"

"That, that is very sweet of you. I'm …fine, thank you." She said. Then teased just a little. "How many times do I have to say you’re free to call me Penny. or at least Penelope?"

"I don't think I could manage ‘Penny’." Brains shook his head. "It doesn't sound right from me."

“Alright.” She said, “But I mean it. And it is sweet, but I hate to think I’ve put you out. you could have just called?"

"W-would you have answered? "

"From you, yes.” Penelope said truthfully. “But then again I guess there's no way of screening calls outside of the home video phone and FAB One.”

"No. That is something I’ve been looking into? Assimilating a ringtone, different coloured lights for items. Or a caller id like on telly phones. It’s been simple enough to roll out on the vehicles so far. But on the watches and-!”

Brains stopped. “… Lady Penelope, you're letting me t-talk e-electronics again."

"You call it techno babble; I find it interesting." She shrugged. It might have sounded like false flattery to or from someone else, but she did genuinely enjoy listening to Brains. Even the bits that went over her head.

"Yes, but y-you're avoiding an awkward conversation." Brains frowned. "Where was I?"

"Television phone lines?" Penelope tried. Brains frown grew a little exasperated. "Oh, it was worth a shot. I said I would have answered. if it was you."

"Right. Well as I said I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you. So, were Tin-tin a-and the fellas? And we’re all missing you and had been looking forward to you visiting. Really. I hope I’m not wrong when I say I see you as a very good ‘pal’, Lady Penelope? even outside of work.”

Brains was not a great fan of spontaneous physical affection. or else Penelope might have reached over and squeezed his hand. She herself wasn’t one for mushy sentiments without substance.

“You aren’t wrong. Although I'm not using the term ‘pal’ , thank you. but You’re a dear friend of mine too Brains. One Whom I’m lucky to have I might add.”

“The gadgetry upgrades are an a-added bonus.”

He said it in his normal tone but punctuated it with a very over top wink. Ah a joke.

Parker did not bring Brains his cola. But allowed the automatic waiter to bring it to him instead. It was a shiny chirping dustbin looking thing with a flat tray head, running on wheels and a track. Nothing as sophisticated as Braman. Although someone had gone to great trouble to put a smiley face on its front using its order lights as eyes. Penelope glared at it all the same for intruding.

Brains took the drink, thanked the robot; And continued.

“And it was somewhat selfish of me too. Coming to see you I mean. I wanted to get off the island for a little while. or at least away from the house.”

“Oh? Brains, is something wrong?” Penelope wasn’t going to admit she was worried no. not at all.

Alright, perhaps a smidgen.

“hm. it isn't a nice atmosphere.” Brains said, plucking out the umbrella from the drink and rolling it in his fingers. “And the others are trying to hide in my lab which is-?”

The near splutter of giggle from her startled them both.

“Terribly sorry, Brains.” Penelope apologised. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I just got the ridiculous image of one or more of the boys physically hiding under your work bench like a game of sardines!”

“Ah. no. That would be funny! And that has happened before! Not with the work bench but the storage cupboard. I do have to remind them sometimes it is a working lab and workshop." Brains said with a chuckle. Then more seriously, "If they were working on their own projects, I wouldn’t mind. It would be simply a case of just being there at the same time? but it was more they all keep coming in rather than face one another. if that makes sense? to see how whatever it is I’m working on is going and small talk."

“Ah. No, I quite agree that it is quite bothersome when people do that. One moment.”

Penelope reached into her bag. And pulled out an anti-listening device, ironically disguised as a compartment pocket disc and radio player. While the one in her compact and Brain’s watch were probably more than adequate for any electronic bugs; this one packed a little more juice that’d allow them a little more privacy. Beaming white noise up out of its antennae, the gadget then echoed surrounding noise back outward, creating a barrier around in up to a five-metre radius. Both eves’ droppers and recording devices alike wouldn’t hear them now. Even Parker and Tin-tin’s own IR devices would struggle against it. Parker wouldn’t even hear what she was saying even if he hid in a nearby decorative pot plant.

“There. Then we speak a little more freely about your lab and the Tracy’s.” Penelope smiled, setting it on the table between their sun loungers. “You can never guarantee secrecy in these places. As you’ve proven!”

Only Brains was more focused on the not-a-radio. “Is the new synth mechanism working well for output you need it too outside of the testing conditions? I wasn’t certain it could generate the continuous voltage without compensating the battery life.”

“Now who’s talking shop to avoid discussions?” Penelope pointed out. Brains sighed and swirled the cola as if it might help.

"It isn’t a nice atmosphere.” He said eventually. “In any of the villas. But other than seeing you’re okay? I'm staying out of the actual argument please. So are Tin-Tin, Gordon and John. "

“That’s only two out of five brothers." Penelope said quietly.

“Alan is heading to Thunderbird Five two days earlier than he was meant to. John changed his mind and was going to let Alan owe him another week seeing as you weren’t there anymore? but I think Alan’s trying to escape too. " Brains said. “And his, Alan’s I mean. His stance is ‘I told you so’. but I'm not sure which side of the argument. Although John asked you to call him, and you can tell him your side of the story.”

“Our own little ‘bitch sesh’.” Penelope said, sipping her drink to avoid pursing her lips. “And Virgil's?"

Penelope wished she hadn’t asked. Brains’ face fell.

“Virgil isn't speaking to anyone." He said sadly. "Last time I saw him he was holed up in Thunderbird Two making adjustments to the starboard’s main averting b-six aid access. And he had been for nearly ninety minutes!"

"Which bit is that? That he’s repairing."

"Oh. On the hatch in the cockpit, for storage." Brains corrected. "It keeps sticking."

“What a nuisance that must be." Penelope frowned. “Especially as Two’s pilot.”

“Quite. But. It shouldn’t take all that long to fix. And… I’m not sure I should say this?”

“And?” Penelope prompted anyway.

“And Virgil is not even acting as Scott’s confidant." Brains said.

“Oh…goodness, that is troubling."

“Hmm. Yeah.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment or few.

There was a splash, which served as a fitting distraction as any.

Tin-tin had at some point put on her cap and stripped down to her swimsuit. making use of the pool she’d hopped in for a dip and started doing steady lengths. Parker was looking h’after her stuff. He sat watching the sunbathers like a guard dog, daring any dirty old men to ogle or approach the young lady. It was quite sweet how protective he was of Tin-tin. Parker had acted much the same in Paradise Peaks, despite them being on assignment.

Deciding they’d be alright, Penelope sighed again and turned back to Brains.

"It wasn't in my itinerary, you know? To upset Virgil. I didn’t set out to do so on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Or Jeff actually. Certainly not to anger him. or Scott. or any of you for that matter-."

“don't.” Brains frowned interrupting. “I know that. With what was said, I believe it was needed, giving the operation. but the way it was put, it wasn't right.”

“That's rather the crux of the matter. rather than quite what was said itself.” Penelope admitted. Brains nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Does he often do that with the rest of you?”

“No, not a lot. Although sometimes Mr Tracy says things in that tone without meaning too. But He does it to even Kranyo? I don’t like it when he does that.”

“I doubt Kryano does either. Well, thank you for your honesty… I knew I was in for a lecture. Or possibly at worst a telling off. I just hadn’t expected it levelled at me quite so bluntly or on a personal level.” Penelope complained. “Oh dear. But you are right. And I shouldn’t have shot back either. At Jeff. I'm afraid my own father was a ‘give them as good as back, son’ sort of approach too.”

“Mine tried.” Brains agreed. “So did the professor.”

“Oh?”

Brains very very rarely ever talked about his family life before the Tracy’s. Adopted or otherwise. But he was slightly more casual here, just for a brief moment.

“It didn’t take. Sending me to boxing classes to t-toughen me up just gave the school bully an easier target. Especially if I couldn’t see them in the ring without my glasses.” He said. And waved off any sympathy.

“H-how did your parents find it?” Brains asked and at her questioning look clarified, “Not following the life they’d planned for you? If that’s not too personal?”

“From you, no, not at all. Hmm. I think switching from scouts to the guides helped? But it was being made head girl and going to finishing school that finally won mater over.” Penelope shrugged. Something her old tutor would have struck her with a ruler for, speaking of. “As for my father? In his own words better a strong daughter then another waste of an heir like his brother was. Yours?”

“The professor didn’t really mind what I wore or what I changed, so long as I didn’t miss any classes.”

Brains didn’t elaborate any further. Penelope picked up the thread of conversation before the silence became awkward.

“I'm afraid I’ve made papa sound a brute. He wasn’t. He was a good man in most respects. although I don’t think he and Jeff would have gotten on at all.” She said. But the augment was still playing on her mind. and the subject circled back and reared its ugly head. “But speaking of Jeff and fathers. This isn’t a case of simply being grounded or getting into trouble with a local constable, is it?”

Brains shook his head, and Penelope continued. “And yet Jeff spoke to me like a child.”

“But what you did was incredibly risky? He’s right to think that.” Brains replied.

“I don’t need to hear any more of his Opinions.” Penelope said curtly. “…or his mothers.”

"If it helps Mrs Tracy called him and Scott foolish. For speaking to you like that. Individually. and idiots collectively " Brains put in.

"It does actually." Penelope said, a little cattily. "Given Grandmama Tracy cannot stand me, she must really be quite galled to be on my side."

“y-yeah. Well partly on your side.”

"Was she very rude about me?" Penelope grinned. Brains thought for a moment reanalysing.

“Urm…you do know Mrs Tracy says your name odd. Like it’s an insult?” He said warily.

“Oh, she always does that. That's why I call her Grandmama.”

“Oh. But Mrs Tracy hates that?”

“I know. She pretends to flirt with Parker, and she knows we all hate that.”

“I'm not certain it is pretend. Wait, is that why she called you a snob?”

“Is that all? Well, I am. That’s not terribly rude. if it’s true.” Penelope smiled sweetly. “She also thinks I'm a bad influence on you Tin-tin and the boys. And Jeff to boot.”

“Really? I don’t believe it.”

“She told me that herself. And you’ve my word it’s the truth.”

"I don’t understand why you find that funny?” Brains said, “Oh well. Other than that Mrs Tracy wasn't so rude as to call you anything but ‘her majesty!’ behind your back… But that was before the fight."

“It was hardly a fight! Nothing was broken or hit." Penelope disagreed.

"Well, what would yo-you call it then?"

Penelope thought. "A mild skirmish.” She said, “Or perhaps the start of a rift."

"I- I’m not going to call it that first one. But Mrs Tracy is being very vocal about everything being ’bang out of order’. And that she ‘raised you boys better’.” Brains said, with air quotations. “And she keeps dishing out chores. The villa is spotless. And Mrs Tracy is hand washing the dishes despite having the dishwasher. She only does that when she’s cross.”

Brains then smiled and lowered his voice unnecessarily, "Can you keep a secret, Lady Penelope?"

"Always dear.” Penelope whispered back, conspiring for juicy gossip. “Go on?"

"Mr Tracy even got middle named!" Brains chuckled. "He was complaining about Virgil’s hiding. And Mrs Tracy told him to pull his own socks up. Metaphorically. B-but he doesn’t know Gordon and I heard him."

"Oh my!” Penelope tittered. “Although if Gordon heard? then it will go around the island like wildfire."

“T-true True.” Brains smiled.

But then that smile slipped somewhat.

"I-I'm afraid there’s no way to avoid Scott’s fussing or temper by the way. He gets very worried about any of us getting hurt. You and me? We might not be one of his brothers but Scott? He's always trying to look out for everyone."

"I know." Penelope conceded. "I know. But the hypocrisy? He cannot throw himself into ridiculous scrapes himself then join in with berating me like a child!"

"I know.” Brains echoed. “He does it a lot. Even worse since that accident with the ‘dish Monte Bianco? the others call him smother hen.”

Virgil had called it that and some several more rather expletive things, she knew.

“Gordon says it’s a compliment?” Brains continued. “Too you I mean. That Scott cares for you. As one of the team”

“It didn’t feel like a compliment.” Penelope pouted. Not that she’d admit that. “He didn't have to jump in and agree with Jeff quite so eagerly either. And the dressing down from Mr Jeff Tracy? I maintain; it really felt like I was being spoken to like a child!”

“Hmm.”

Brains paused tapping his shoe nervously.

"I I do respect Mr Tracy, a great deal. But sometimes..."

Brains took a deep breath.

“Sometimes Jeff can be a little frustrating to deal with.” Penelope suggested. “And it feels like he doesn’t take one seriously.”

“You hit the pr-pro p. you’ve hit the nail on the head there as it were, Lady Penelope.” Brains paused again. “I wish sometimes…”

Penelope gave him a moment. But Brains changed tack.

"You were worried about him. Last April? so you insisted Mr Tracy took a holiday, correct?" he said, placing the cola on the table next to hers and the fake radio.

"I did.” She said, curious to see where he was going with this. “After a very insistent message from a little thunderbird-ie prompted it. But they were right."

"Oh. I didn't know that bit… but You still had Mr Tracy’s best interests at heart, right?"

" I hoped so."

Jeff had been very against it…

"But then Scott burnt out trying to be in charge?" Brains said. "Even before the seascape called in. And Mr Tracy came back only to the island."

"I remember." Penelope said. This time it was her turn to pause before speaking. “I felt like I was being blamed without him saying so.”

"Hmm. he doesn’t like it. not being in charge?” Brains said. Penelope agreed. “But at the same time, he’s never given Scott any training or expertise into stepping up. He just expects Scott to ‘know’ what to do. Same with Tracy industries. And it isn’t just Scott. It’s all five of them. I know they had a say in the matter of making the operations. But not so much in how it’s run sometimes. Or how it’ll run in the future.”

“Hmm.” Penelope smiled and put her shades back on. “And that makes it all alright, doesn’t it?”

“Lady Penelope?”

“Yes?”

"Your jaw is doing that thing it does on missions where you’re really angry but pretending to be helpless."

“Good grief Brains! Remind me never to play poker with you.”

“You can count cards!” Brains shot back. "I prefer chess anyway. Scott was right in the lounge though, w-with what he said.”

“Scott was rude.”

“But correct. You don’t have to prove that you’re indestructible. We know you aren’t, even if you act like it!”

Penelope did not hide her scowl this time. “I can manage, you know? I'm aware this latest ‘favour’ I’ve done for Jeff is more of a blot on my record than a gold star. But I’ve been living this lifestyle for longer than they have.”

“I k-know that! We all do. We were all worried!” Brains said and put his head in his hands. He didn’t look up when spoke.

“He was right. So was Mr Tracy. but the way it was put wasn't. He does it to his brothers all the time! even when they’re out on a rescue. And sometimes Mr Tracy? He speaks to them as their dad when they’re running through protocols. or as a commander when they need their father?”

"That's the trouble with a family business I suppose." Penelope sighed. She drew out a cigarette case and her holder. At exactly the right moment Parker just happened to be walking past to light it for her with just a flip of his zippo. Barely breaking his stride. Remarkable talent of that man.

"I get I am essentially an employee in a family run enterprise. Albeit a rather extravagant one. As well as a friend of said family." Penelope continued, exhaling smoke out. "But to get a dressing down so publicly? With the lot of you in earshot, and Scott as his second jumping in and backing him up? Call me spoiled but I'm not used to it. I wouldn't do that to anyone who works in my home or working under me invited to the house. it's unseemly!"

That last bit came out a little loud and had it not been for the anti-eavesdropping device then heads may have turned.

Brains stifled a cough through his nose. And Penelope made sure to blow smoke the other way.

"What about your err... previous employment?" he asked, waving smoke away from his face. “Did You never get in this sort of trouble with them?”

“Oh goodness all the time. Not so much in journalism, but I’ve had some HORRID directors and horrible bosses. Far worse than Jeff. Especially within the fashion industry. thank goodness for houses like François Lemaire!” Penelope sighed again. "But I can get away with kicking up a fuss right back if needs be behind the catwalk and cameras if something is wrong. especially on behalf of the newer or younger models. Brands don't want the press of being outed as underpaying or cutting corners... That wasn't what you meant, was it dear?”

Brains shook his head. “Not really. But was there much difference? With modelling, interviews and being an agent.”

“The extortionate pay and more weapons pointed at my head.” Penelope quipped. Then really thought about it. “And bizarrely less sexism interestingly enough? Things were said to my face more, granted, but I could actively use that to an advantage.”

“Gee. T-that’s socially fascinating to observe. But I would not like to step into either of those worlds. With the exception of consulting and inventions.” Brains said. Then laughed. “Wait? You know those tacky souvenirs that say things like ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here-?

“But it helps.” Penelope said. “Yes, I know the ones you mean.”

“Well, I think we don’t have to be mad where we work?”

Penelope chuckled right back. “But it helps. True, very true.”

“I b-believe I might know what I'm contributing to the Secret Santa.” Brains said, making a note in his pocketbook. “”

“That’s very apt. regardless of whose name you pull out.” Penelope agreed. “What’s the limit this year by the way?”

The worst-best present was a Tracy Tradition. Had been since the boys had been pocket money age. save buying four presents each. And Grandma receiving five of the same mug or tea towel. The categories had become more wilder but if anything, the price limit had come down, to maintain the challenge.

“Gordon says up it to twenty dollars. but Alan wants to be extra hard and say ten.”

“I could be a bounder and include the postage then.” Penelope said, not meaning it really. “You get that slogan. I’ll contribute something with Alice in Wonderland. We're all mad here!”

“I'm sensing a theme.” Brains stammered.

“Let’s see if they notice. Mind I suppose Tracy Island is a wonderland somewhat.” Penelope smiled. “All your brilliant ideas? the bravery, the secrets.”

Brains however wasn’t laughing.

“Will you stay? In the organisation.” He said, suddenly serious and switching topics. It threw her, just a little.

“Why should I?!” Penelope retorted. She hadn’t thought of quitting. Not really. But she could!

“I can give you a list of reasons if that wasn’t rhetorical.” Brains replied.

“I don’t need a list.” She frowned. Penelope went to take another drag of her cigarette only to find it had burnt up.

“Can I ask why you don’t just fly back to England then?” Brains asked as she stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“No.”

The voice didn’t normally allow for any argument to bode. But Penelope wasn’t having much luck in being intimidating. Must be something with the factor seventy sunscreen.

“I m-maybe wrong but I think you were hoping someone would come. Here, from the island. To find you.” Brains challenged. “I like to think you’re giving them a chance to get their act t-together.

“Think what you like!” Penelope said. And in Trying to Give him the brush off, she snatched up her book again. She even started reading it again to ignore him. Unfortunately, she had it Upside down. And didn’t realise for a beat too long she was so annoyed. Still Penelope Powered through it. even tuning the pages. Brains in turn turned in his seat. and looked out over the same spot as she’d spent most of the day doing. He sipped his cola, politely ignoring her ignoring him.

“G-good book?” he asked eventually.

“Awful.” Penelope said, calmer. Brains was annoyingly very good at being a good influence. “And not in a way so bad it’s entertaining.”

“Ah. S-shame. Not even if it’s read the wrong way r-round upside down and back to front?”

“Not even then, darling.” She said, putting it back down. And steeled her courage to the sticking place. “And… going back to your question. admittedly I couldn’t face the flight. Home. Or Back to the island.”

Brains frowned. “Do you mean physically or psychologically?”

“Both-.”

“Lady Penelope-!” Brains interrupted.

“well-!” she interrupted right back. Goodness, this felt horribly vulnerable! “I just wasn’t in the mood for another argument. And a long-haul flight, even in a Fireflash, sounded extremely inadvisable at this point.”

“Are you in pain?” Brains asked. Then eyed her glass suspiciously. “Should you be drinking that on medication?”

“Now you sound like a Tracy. It’s a mocktail. I’m not so foolish to get white girl brit-abroad wasted, thank you! Not with bruises.” Penelope said, stirring it for emphasis. And gave a little scowl. “It's mostly fruity and syrup. Parker was right, this isn’t even close to a cocktail.”

“So, if you aren’t drinking a-alcohol, does that mean you are taking pain relief?”

“Yes, Brains I am.”

“The full prescribed dosage?”

Penelope didn’t dignify that with a straight answer. Brains pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued to stare incredulously at her till Penelope explained.

“I didn’t want to take them. They’re so strong. They make me woozy, and I cannot stand how at odds with my own limbs they make me feel.” She grumbled. “I came here to relax, not to be comatose.”

“You came to the island to relax. You went to recover enough to get out of any questions from the press.” Brains corrected. And sighed,

“Mr Tracy’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

“I meant it when I said think what you like.” Lady Penelope said coolly. “I'm here and he’s there. And he’ll still be behind his desk when I get home.”

“Is that your solution for dealing with uncomfortable situations?” Brains accused. “j-just run away and hide.”

“Better to hide in plain sight then get caught." Penelope sniffed.

“That's not denying running away.” Brains retorted.

“It was hardly a run. Given how long it took to repack my bags.” Penelope said, Losing her temper with another old friend. It wasn’t a burning fiery thing this time; this burnt like ice. “And don’t act as if he has never upset you either? Or that you’ve never buried yourself in work to avoid Jeff. Scott told me about the smashed models.”

That last bit she added Rather unfairly. Beastly even. Penelope regretted it the instant she said it. Brains regarded her for a moment, and she thought he might get up and leave that time. She wouldn’t blame him.

Instead, he grumbled, "You’re all very alike y-you know? In that you're all sorry about how you spoke to each other but too stubborn to a-actually apologise. Plus, you’re British and not going to admit he up­set you. Really upset you."

"For someone who just said he'd rather watch from the side-lines, you know a lot about how people tick Brains.”

“For someone who’s so cool under pressure she frustrates the Hood? you can be one heck of a hot head sometimes, Lady Penelope!”

Penelope considered he had a point. But didn’t verbally say so.

“What was in your cola to make you so direct today?” she said instead.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” he replied instead.

“Because I do not always need to be rescued.” Penelope stated. “I’m not a damsel in some story. For every concern Parker or I have called the boys in, there must be a dozen or so missions I handle. sometimes without most of you even being aware of until afterwards.”

“I know.” Brains said quietly. “But you did need rescuing in that situation. Or should have been? And you didn’t ask for help.”

“I am aware, Brains. Hindsight is a marvellous thing.” She snipped. “Unfortunately, I was too late in my decision making.”

“P-Penelope? You were hurt.”

Maybe it was the fact he’d dropped the title? Or it was the unsaid parallels to another tragedy. but Penelope didn’t interrupt.

“In an avalanche of all things. And at one point even missing? And knocked unconscious. Enough to scare us all.” Brains said. “That might be the reason Mr Tracy was, either consciously or not, hard on you. But… It is frustrating that we’re an organisation that helps people; but we’re bad at looking out for each other. Especially to how everyone is feeling, e-emotionally.”

“…Brains, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Or brought up the Thunderbird Six planning.” She said in a hush. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks.” Brains nodded. Then added, “A -also how much did he tell you? About the model I broke?”

Penelope was Not glad to change the subject as such. But certainly, latching on to it.

“So, it was on purpose then?” Penelope asked.

“no.” Brains defected. “Frustration? yeah…Failure isn’t an option. Even just demonstrations and trials.”

“He said it was more than one.”

Brains looked up at that, worried.

“S-Scott knew about the other models?”

“No. You just told me.” Penelope pointed out. Brains’ mouth opened and closed twice before just settling on silently frowning. “Scott said they’d been other pitches…and then even after repurposing Alan’s biplane, you seemed to lose confidence in yourself for a little while. That was clear even to Parker and myself.”

“wouldn’t you? nothing was good enough.” Brains frowned. “Nothing I made was what Mr Tracy had in mind.”

This time Lady Penelope did reach across the gap to squeeze his arm. It was more on his sleeve if anything. She didn’t wish to overwhelm the poor fellow.

“There’s no shame in wanting to work to a specification.” She tried.

“Or wanting to stick to the mission.” Brains countered in agreement. “Just please have ah- an extra b- backup plan next time, Lady Penelope? And be more careful around missions with snow.”

Lady Penelope promised she would.

“Annoyingly, I'm normally rather good at them. And please don’t be cross about the models? Scott didn’t tell me a lot. Virgil and John filled me in a little more. It wasn’t gossip, they were worried for you, dear boy.” She continued. “But they told me enough to make me wish you’d gotten to be on board your airship’s maiden voyage. Even if it did get sabotaged and end up a rather dangerous affair.”

“Me too. I’d have liked to see the Sky Ship launch at least. Even if it had just been from inside a Thunderbird.” Brains said, a little wistfully. “Maybe if they ever build a second one? Ah-although I doubt it after the cost of the damage I caused-”

“You get that idea out of your head this instant!” Penelope scolded. Brains looked up at her, shocked. Whether it was her Tone of voice, or he hadn’t meant to say that bit aloud, she didn’t care.

“You didn’t cause Skyship’s nosedive into a controversial missile base.” She reminded him. “Those villains who killed the crew and then one another did. You saved us. The shoot-out caused the crash. None of the blame rests on your shoulders.”

“I know but it was my design-?” he tried.

“Absolutely none of the events are your fault and the blame does not rest on your shoulders. If anyone has said otherwise, then they are exceptionally stupid.” Penelope challenged. “And if you argue that it is your fault even out of misplaced guilt or the like, I will personally throw you in that pool, in what you are wearing right now!”

“You y-you’re not meant to lift anything heavy or do anything strenuous for at least two weeks?!”

“Then I will get Parkers and Tin-tin’s assistance. Don’t think I won’t!”

Brains gulped.

“…I-I don’t think I’ve ever known you so cross.”

“Likewise!”

“First at Mr Tracy, then me.”

“Jeff was being, pardon my language, an arse. you dear are listening to your insecurities. No one gets to make you feel small, Brains. not even your own thoughts.” Penelope said stubbornly.

Brains nodded slowly. And sighed, “I know the actions of others weren’t my fault. And no one said t-they were. The opposite in fact. But like you said earlier? About being blamed. It wasn’t in my control what happened. But I still feel bad?”

“And that was only after it crashed. I felt bad about being laughed at and I think that reflected in everything else I worked on for a while. And how I was with the Tracy’s.” Brains admitted. “I can design incredible machines. I know that. but having no brief made it e-extra challenging when its s-shouldn’t have been. And then the answer had been under our noses the entire time.”

“isn’t it just like that sometimes?”

“Hmm…also I’ve never heard you swear before? That’s t-twice in an hour now.”

“I blame the heat. It’s clearly getting to me.”

“If Mr Tracy apologises, Will you forgive him? and stay?”

Penny withdrew her hand.

“And if he doesn’t?” she suggested.

No one had called her. No one had stopped her leaving Tracy Island in the first place.

“Well, then my analyzation of the situation would be wrong. But I very much doubt Tin-tin and the Tracy brothers would let you leave without a fight. especially if you called Virgil. Middle brother and chief peacekeeper.”

“Why should I be the one to extend the olive branch?”

“Would I be here if you h-had? Because they're trying to give you space and also they are g-genuinely terrified of upsetting you further.” Brains said. “Scott will say he’s sorry the moment you get him on a private call. He’s admitted aloud he messed up.”

“If he messed up, then so did I. Disastrously so.” Penelope admitted. “With such an abysmal rookie mistake too. I'm surprised I wasn’t let go of on the spot.”

Brains had unfortunately taken a swig of his drink and nearly choked on it.

“Let Go!? You a-are our top agent!”

“That, I doubt.” Penelope said. “I failed a mission, old boy. Regardless of the weather and the results. The only reason that microfilm was recovered was sheer dumb luck. I didn’t even complete the task, Parker did it for me. All for what? a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and the whole island laughing at or scolding me!”

“We weren’t laughing!”

“It certainly felt like it.”

“w-what did you just tell me about not listening to your own thoughts?” he tried. “I c-could throw you in the pool!”

“Could you? Try it. Dear.” Penelope challenged, with an eyebrow.

Brains slowly backed down. Not without a complaint.

“Why is throwing people and t-things in the pool the biggest threat in my life recently?”

“You are a gentleman.”

“I mean it though. You’re both our friend and the best agent.” Brains insisted. “You go across the world for us, not just London. You’re the only agent he trusts to have a direct link too. And your portrait hangs on the wall. The only one of our networks. Alongside his own sons.”

“…And what if I’m sick of hiding in plain sight?”

It was very quietly asked. She wasn’t sure Brains had heard it. Penelope was about to pretend she hadn’t said it at all and carry on when he spoke again.

“Can you go without? The trills and the subterfuge.” Brains asked. “Sometimes I'm sick of being an inventor. But if I didn’t create? I’d die!”

“Spoke like a true artist…No. I doubt I could retire even if I needed to. And it has been the only enterprise I’ve been in in my life with some moral backbone.” Penelope admitted. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s t-that?”

“I definitely wasn’t made for relaxing when forced too.”

“M-most definitely a Tracy trait.”

“Tosh. I told you, I'm a bad influence on them, remember? But truly, shall we get out of here?” Penelope suggested. “I believe you said our favourite technician mentioned a trip out?”

“I b-believe I did. That's a good idea.” Brains grinned. “So long as this m-means you’re not cross with me for coming out here.”

“No. I'm rather glad you did.” Penelope smiled. “Give me time to change and arrange the car with Parker.”

“I’ll go let Tin-tin know.” Brains agreed getting up. “When will you be back?”

“Will you be coming with us?” Penelope asked with a frown.

“Hmm, no. not s-shopping at least. But I might come for the drive.” He said, “There's also p-plenty of galleries and museums in the town. and a rather fun shooting range just outside of it. Most of us prefer it to the island one even.”

“Oh darling, you love dressing room montage, and you know it.” Penelope teased. “Here. A toast?”

Brains was bemused. But raised his glass anyway. “T-to what?”

“To the whims of Jeff Tracy.” Lady Penelope joked, “And what we put up with sometimes for international rescue.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He beamed. And clinked his glass to hers.

“Oh, and Brains?” She asked. The scientist turned back.

“Y-yes, Penelope?”

“Thank you. For this.” she said sincerely. “I think a ‘little chat’ was long overdue. And far more needed than a holiday.”

[formeryelpers]

Nosy Neighbors, 82 S Lake Ave, Pasadena, CA 91101

I had high hopes for Nosy Neighbors because of the cute name and the specialization in coffee and donuts. But, I was disappointed by the coffee and the donuts.

They do have many drinks: coffee (drip, cold brew, espresso drinks, signature lattes), tea, lemonade, and dirty sodas. I did not see the donuts on the overhead menu. The mini donuts are made on site and in plain view. Half a dozen mini donuts is $4.99 and a dozen, $6.99. They have flavored powders but these aren’t listed: powdered, strawberry, cinnamon sugar, chocolate powder. No sauces or other toppings. I also spotted some pastries, premade breakfast sandwiches, cupcake cups, and bottled beverages. For coffee, they serve a local roaster, Klatch.

Cappuccino ($4.75): The cup felt very light. There was a lot of foam and the cup was only 2/3rds full.  There was no foam art. The cappuccino was bitter and I could barely taste the milk. It wasn’t good.

Mini donuts with cinnamon sugar ($4.99 for 6): Six of these might equal one regular donut. They’re served warm and are soft with a bit of crispiness. They’re okay. Very plain. I’d rather have a regular donut.

Other items you can buy include bags of coffee beans, cake pops, and Nosy Neighbors merch. Limited indoor and outdoor seating. The place is cute but I’m pretty sure that I won’t be back unless they add something interesting to the menu. There are a lot of donut shops on Lake and they’re better than Nosy Neighbors.

3 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 513

One of my… not quite resolutions but certainly a promise to myself, was that I would declutter my home. And by declutter I mean get rid of things I don’t use, don’t care for and probably will never touch no matter what I tell myself.

A large, bold and vague statement, I know. It’s the kind of nebulous thing you tell yourself you’ll do that is doom to fail like be healthier or use less social media. Without a plan of attack, something specific to go by, such resolutions are always doomed to fail.

Which was why I had a plan. I would pick one thing every single month and declutter it, even if it was something stupidly small. This month was my underwear drawer, because I am the type of person who will wear an article to death and then some. Since I was gifted new underwear (don’t snort, it was an excellent gift) January was a good month to just throw out all the underwear I don’t like wearing or was dying.

One of the places I had been meaning to declutter (aka throw out) were things in my fridge and freezer. The things that didn’t necessarily spoil (or at least wasn’t noticeably spoiled) but weren’t getting used. It was something that was on my Problems for Future Me list, but I didn’t have an inkling of when I was going to get around to doing it.

And then, that choice was taken out of my hands.

It turns out at some point my fridge began to collect moisture in the back and wasn’t draining it into the evaporating pan completely. Which meant that ice was slowly forming in the back of my fridge, for how long? No one knows. Especially me, because I don’t notice shit. I noticed the weird loud sound my fridge was making, that caused me enough concern to text my parents, but it was my mother who pointed out to me the ice in the back of my fridge.

Granted, not noticing something like that is pretty on brand for me.

In an attempt to not have to make a service call (for something apparently according to forums is not fixable anyways), the recommendation is for me to defrost my fridge. This means I have to take things out and put them somewhere else so they won’t rot. Good thing my parents keep their chest freezer at my place and we’re in the middle of winter. My sweet father is right now freezing a pitcher of ice for me out on their patio and my mother bought over their old cooler.

So… Since I have to move things out of the fridge anyways, now seemed like a good time to declutter the fridge. To top it all off, my mother offered to help clear out the fridge, and said she would come over after her favourite game show.

Deciding I didn’t want my mother to know exactly what I did and didn’t want to keep (or ask questions on why I had this thing in my fridge), I immediately began to ruthlessly cull the food I had the moment I got home.

The can of iced tea that was put into my takeout by accident? Down the drain.

The jar of pickles that were probably good but I haven’t eaten them in… probably two years, thrown out.

The bottle of concentrated lemonade that had all the sugar crystallized to the glass walls, thrown out.

Large slabs of plain chocolate that was probably from Christmas two years ago… that is funnily enough going back to my mother who will probably make chocolate chip cookies out of them. So is the small jar of royal honey that I’m pretty sure came from her and I don’t use.

All in all, it was a productive evening thing to do, I just wish it wasn’t because my fridge had decided to grow ice.

[uk4yy]

I’m prob late but re: the iced tea video i dated a girl from the uk and she had only tried iced tea once and it wasn’t very popular but you could find some around if you wanted according to her

its just nuts to me that with a chain as large as starbucks that they wouldnt be slightly more common than they would be if. wait i stopped in the middle of writing this sentence to see how many stores are in the uk and turns out theres only a a little over 1100 and it looks like the menu does not feature brewed unsweetened black iced tea. just green and hibiscus which i guess in their mind does not count as real tea (?????) and likewise australia only has 61 stores and none of them offer a plain iced tea on a menu (that i can see) that isnt mixed with lemonade. so essentially its just a fruit juice

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

have to type all my thoughts out or else i won’t be able to focus on everything else i gotta work on (bad adderall trait is just. hyperfocus on the wrong thing like this. complaining abt it but hey. even this is a form of ? work. of thinking and discussing. of journaling maybe)

1 adderall shortage. i took one today and have two more. i’ll save em for tutoring days/mondays which will give me a grace period of tuesday + wednesday for ? getting tasks done until i can’t rly do anything thursday-sunday/until like what? fucking april? thankfully i have enough clonazepam so i can take half of that at a time at least for anxiety if i need to go out or if my mental health gets bad without adderall (before it was Normal bc i knew it was bad but i just. wasn’t bothered by it. now it’s like i know what being able to function feels like and going without that is horrible. just feeling useless and down bc of it and UGH it’s literally the fucking worst it’s tough to explain

2 i did buy a lot of drinks though for the non adderall days. i have lipton iced tea (watermelon green, green w citrus) and some pink lemonade for non-adderall days, a vanilla latte coffee jug, a caramel ?macchiato? coffee jug, a blonde roast coffee jug, and a small peppermint latte drink (and like an Inch of coffee in another drink leftover lol) plus a bunch of hot cocoa bombs for either kind of day. so at least i’m keeping positive and thinking of this time as coffee drinkie time!!!

3 BUT i feel like i fucking wasted my fucking adderall today BECAUSE yes i had tutoring and adderall means i don’t have a lot of anxiety in the way i did before. not that it cures agoraphobia or anything but i just don’t overthink things. yeah i still have other anxiety but !!! it’s a lot better w all these medications at play. SO YES I FELT I NEEDED TO TAKE IT AND YES I FEEL GOOD RN BUT i was gonna make smashed potatoes for dinner and my mom was like and? and i’m like i literally don’t know i just had the potatoes listed but hey! it’s cooking! it’s a thing to eat! but it’s never fucking good enough bc it’s not a “meal.” she’s always fucking asking “what we have for meals” when i don’t fuckign work like that. i have energy to make potatoes so we’re having fucking potatoes, eggs if u want sure! but i am not going to spend three hrs cooking chicken that she thinks u can throw plain into the oven CHICKEN I WILL NOT EAT I AM NOT SPENDING ALL THIS TIME AND ENERGY, EVEN IF IT’S EASY ADDERALL ENERGY, ON FOOD I WILL NOT EAT

4 plus she offered up wendy’s instead and i’m like. i couldn’t even cook tonight. i had a chicken sandwich that was almost too much chicken and i just. Why was it not good enough for u. even if i wanted to make a three course meal (she’s always asking for sides), how am i expected to do that every day of the week. how am i expected to do that mon-wed on adderall when i have other things i want to do and will have limited appetite bc of the adderall

5 apparently she told my sister she hates my cooking? even tho i’m only taking the sugar out entirely bc she’s diabetic??? and i only do that for pancakes???? i cook fucking melted (fondant) potatoes and smashed potatoes and good pancakes and eggs just like most ppl and baked bread and snacks like ??? fuck OFF

6 so like. i also explained that i’m not having a recent influx of food sensory issues, i’m just being honest w myself and not guilting myself into feeling like i need to eat things i’m disgusted by BC I GOT TOLD BY HER + BY A FAMILY FRIEND THAT ME SWITCHING TO LOWFAT MILK FROM WHOLE MILK IS CAUSING MY SENSORY ISSUES. I LITERALLY GOT “MILK CAUSES AUTISM”ED

7 but apparently she heard none of this, as always, ignoring my history of food sensory issues, ignoring that i’m prioritizing my comfort w food choices, ignoring that i’m prioritizing my own food and cooking preferences in terms of what i cook/focusing on what i’ll eat and not the # of sides, AND I KNOW SHE ALWAYS DOES THIS BUT I FINALLY FEEL LIKE I’M MAKING HEADWAY AND THAT SHE UNDERSTANDS WHAT I’M SAYING BUT SHE NEVER DOES

[starlitangels]

I See You

Here’s some Morgan! XD I’ve had this idea in my head for a couple days. Finally had time to write it down! 1.6k words

—

Ding-dong!

I glanced up from my computer. A familiar aura lingered just beyond the front door to the small house I’d been renting for a few years. A Seer’s aura. One that wasn’t hiding behind presenting like a different specialist.

I got up and went to the door, unlocking the deadbolt before I even got there with Psychokinesis. “Morgan,” I greeted.

He looked... stricken. Those bottomless ocean blue eyes were dull and his black bangs hung limp over his forehead. From the moment he introduced himself to me, he’d always cut a fine figure. Always looked professional or at the very least put-together. This was the most casual I’d ever seen him. No wax keeping his bangs up and off his forehead. No collared shirt—whether polo or button-down—opting instead for a simple, plain black T-shirt. Sneakers instead of dress shoes.

The grey haze of Obscura surrounded him. I didn’t See images of his future radiating off of him like heat off a road cutting through the desert. Like I would with anyone else.

He didn’t get the chance to say anything before I was opening the door wider and ushering him inside. “Sit down,” I said, shooing him to my sofa. “Let me get you a drink. Coffee? Tea? Water? I think I have some lemonade.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. Soft-spoken as he usually was. But with none of his usual conviction behind his words.

“Like hell,” I retorted. I went to my little kitchen and got a glass of water before returning to the living room and handing it to him. He took it without protesting and took a sip. I sat opposite him on the coffee table. “Morgan, what’s wrong?” I wanted to reach out and squeeze his knee comfortingly, but decided against it.

He shook his head and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Bad Sodality meeting,” he muttered.

I blinked. That was certainly something I didn’t know how to help with. Morgan and a few members of the Department were the only people who knew I was a Seer. I’d chosen to stay private. Keep pretending to be an Illusory. Just, now, with the help and support of the only other Seer Obscura in existence.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged.

I put my tongue between my teeth, biting down on it slightly. Just enough to help me think. “Do you wanna... just... sit in friendly silence for a bit?”

“I... don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be left in my own head right now,” he admitted.

“Want me to talk?”

“If you would.”

I gave him a small, sad smile. “Okay. Any preferred topic?”

“Anything that has nothing to do with the Sodality.”

I leaned back, bracing my hands on the coffee table behind me, and thought for a moment. “Have I told you the story of how my powers manifested yet?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I hadn’t. I hadn’t ever told anyone the real story of how my powers manifested.

Those deep blue eyes met mine. “No,” he said. “I’d like to hear it.”

I nodded. “My mom was gone for the evening. One of my older cousins was keeping an eye on me. Not babysitting—I was too old for that—but my mom didn’t want to just leave me home alone for the night either. Um, my cousin was asleep out in the living room. It was like eleven o’clock at night. I’d gotten myself ready for bed like usual and had just put my pajamas on after taking a shower when my chest started to burn.”

I swallowed. I’d never told anyone this full story before. Anxiety was making my chest, now, tighten. I cleared my throat.

“I was surrounded by grey fog. I heard voices not my own in my head. At first I thought it was Telepathy. I grew up in a family of Freelancers with the occasional Illusory popping up here or there. One of my uncles married a Fire Elemental but both of their kids were Freelancers. I didn’t know—at first—that I was Seeing. The voices I was hearing sounded like my neighbors and my aunt and uncle.

“It was overwhelming,” I continued. Morgan was nodding along with the look in his eyes of someone who knew pretty much exactly what I had gone through. “I collapsed to the ground. Crumpled. I... I started to cry and freak out.

“I lost control of the magic. My chest was burning like there was a bonfire in it. I screamed and everything loose in my bedroom got thrown away from me in a Psychokinetic burst.” I paused, remembering that night in vivid detail for the first time in years. “It woke up my cousin. I heard her shouting, calling for me. Asking if I was okay.

“And I panicked. I knew, on some level, that this was my powers manifesting. But I didn’t want her to know anything was wrong with me. That my powers were scaring me because I didn’t know what they were.

“And... I felt my aura shift. Like... like my magic reacted instinctively to keep me safe. I didn’t even know that was what it did or that... or that a shift like that wasn’t normal.

“I felt my cousin’s aura come into range. She knocked on the door, asking if she could open it. I scrambled to finish getting my pajamas on before opening it up. She was smiling broadly. She proclaimed me an Illusory, like our grandmother.

“But I could see those translucent images radiating off of her of her future. I looked at her and I Saw her entire life—minus the portions where I was around her—flash before my eyes. Right up to Seeing her death. But around me was still that grey fog.

“I didn’t know what an Obscura was, at the time, but I knew what Seers were. And I knew their auras could read like another empowered specialist.

“And... I knew what I was.” I shrugged. “And I never told anyone—not even my mom—that I wasn’t an Illusory.”

Morgan nodded. “I remember when my powers manifested. It was... a similar experience. Overwhelming, but confusing. Not sure if I wanted to tell anyone.” His expression was melancholic. “I did, eventually, obviously.” He took a deep breath. “It was the right thing to do, at the time. I just...” He clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away from mine, glowering toward the fireplace set into the wall that I never really used. He took a deep breath. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Hey,” I said softly. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

This time, I did reach out and give his knee a brief, reassuring squeeze before withdrawing my hand.

He shook his head and pushed his fingers into his hair again. This time to fix how he’d messed it up before. He met my eyes. “I told you before that much of the Sodality resents me for being Obscura.”

I nodded.

He nodded in return. “That’s why the meeting was frustrating. They resent me for not being part of their curse—and I know my opinions and mindset are different, compared to most of theirs. It doesn’t help that I’m on the younger end of Sodality members, either. I just... there’s so much that could be changed and improved—if they would just listen!” He sighed heavily in frustration, closing his eyes.

“Morgan,” I entreated quietly. He met my eyes. “I hear you. And I see you.”

He almost flinched. Obscura. Not Seen.

“I see into you, I mean. I understand,” I amended. “I see you. Sitting in front of me. I see a man doing his best. Fighting through every day just because it’s the right thing to do. You don’t have to put up with the Sodality’s resentment, but you do—and that’s incredibly brave. You are stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, to choose again and again to go through that. I’m still hiding what I am. From everyone but you and a few members of the Department staff. I can’t imagine putting up with the Sodality all the time the way you do.” I set a hand on his knee. “We have each other, now, Morgan. We get what it’s like to be Seer Obscura. We have someone with a shared experience now.”

His smile was melancholic and only made with half of his mouth, but I saw appreciation there. “Yeah. I know.” He set a hand on top of mine on his knee. “Thank you. I’m grateful to have you in my life, now,” he said.

“Me too. I never thought...” I cleared my throat. “Never thought that there would ever be anyone in my life who really knew what it was like to experience magic the way I do. And, I know yours and my experiences aren’t the same, but the very fact that we’re the only two of our kind in existence... there’s a shared sensation there.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I get what you mean. I... I see you too.”

I raised the water bottle I’d left on my coffee table in the general direction of the glass of water I’d brought him. “To seeing and being seen by someone who understands.”

He grabbed the glass and raised it. “To the only two Seers Obscura in existence.” He was smiling. A real one, now.

We tapped our drinks together and took a long swallow.

—

Tag list: @ryn-halo26​

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

-------------

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

-------------

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits,  but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.  

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly. 

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​

[zeldaelmo]

Read day 23 here or start with the masterpost

****************************************************

Day 24

When Zelda had given him the tickets on Hylia’s Day, Link had imagined the theater to be a lot fancier. He wasn’t sure why, since the tickets themselves were plain enough with their dark red and black color scheme and a comedic murder mystery wasn’t exactly the State Opera House. Nonetheless, he had been slightly embarrassed when Zelda laughed at him because he asked if he needed his suit. Well. Maybe it was more that he had been flustered because she had hugged him from behind, her nose gently nudging his ponytail aside, and she had pressed her lips on his nape, whispering, “A button-down is enough.” She liked to do that, and, spirits, was he a sucker for her neck kisses. When she dragged her lips over the skin of his neck on that spot, there wasn't much he wouldn't do if she asked.

"We serve lemonade or beer," a lean young man behind the bar of the theater brought Link back and he blinked. "Everything in bottles. You just bring them back when you go." Ahem. Maybe it was not the time to think about Zelda making him dizzy with kisses. 

"Uh… I'll take two lemonades." Did Zelda drink beer? Maybe not, she had always stuck to wine or soft drinks, but with this woman, he could never be sure. Only this evening, when he picked her up, she had surprised him once more. He had seen her in an evening gown, lab clothes, and rarely in a hoodie, but her black knit dress and her over-knee boots had given her "casual" remark a whole new meaning. 

On his way back to their places, he nearly bumped into another guest. Oh, he was daydreaming of her again, but what could he do? He was smitten with his girlfriend and there was nothing he could do about it—not that he wanted to do something. No, they were happy and he wouldn't mind if time just stopped. 

It was a few weeks into the new year and they had spent most of their free time together. More and more, they gave up on going home on the weekend nights and simply spent the complete time together—like this weekend. 

Humming the tune that the little band played whenever the suspension picked up, he made his way through the rows. The theater was in an old cellar, hidden under a historical building. Zelda had said something about an old dye shop, but he had only half-listened, too amazed by the wide arcades illuminated by dark red lights. It was so big, he would nearly call it a dungeon. The location was unusual and so were the seats. Instead of neat rows of plush chairs, they had set up a mixture of sofas and chaise lounges, interrupted occasionally with a tea table. Thankfully, during the break, the room was additionally illuminated by torches (electric, of course), so he could locate their places. 

He had just squeezed himself past a particular big sofa when he stopped with a frown. Who was that guy kneeling in front of Zelda? His smile was a bit too sweet for his liking. Well, and he was a little too pretty with his long silver when he was on it. Whoa, whoa, whoa, and why on Hylia's green earth was he giving his girlfriend a hand kiss?!? 

Link gripped the bottles in his hands harder. He should just go over and greet them. It was probably nothing. Just an old acquaintance, maybe. Dragging his feet, he didn't let them out of his sight. The man dropped on his place and stretched his arm casually on the backrest, half hugging her.

Link gulped. Hard. He did trust Zelda. She was not Ganondorf and her opinion about cheating matched his own. 

This situation meant nothing. Nothing. He hurried his steps nonetheless when the man leaned in to chat with her. Sidestepping through the row, he reached them. Oh, yes, too sweet and too pretty.

"Link!"

His gaze flashed to Zelda and he nearly dropped the bottles in relief when he saw that she sat on the edge of the couch, her back as straight as possible to avoid leaning into the man's touch. 

"Hey. Lemonade is it. They don't have wine." He lifted the drinks.

She was quick on her feet, glued herself to his side, and took her beverage with a bright smile.

"Thank you." She pointed with the bottom of her bottle between them. "Link, this is Perry. He is a poet and a drama critic, we know each other from a university friend. Perry, this is Link, my boyfriend." 

Poet… Perry… oh, oh! One of her ex-fake-boyfriends. The clingy one, if he wasn't mistaken. Link grinned and pulled her even closer. "Nice to meet you, Perry. I hope you won't write anything bad about the play, I love it. I think we might even get an annual ticket."

Perry scoffed. "It's a bit amateurish." And while Zelda argued, this was the charm about it, Perry's gaze flickered to her left hand that clutched Link's waist.

"Well, well," he said and stood up, "as long as I don't see a sparkling ring on your finger, Zelda, there is still hope for me to have a beauty like you at my side."

Zelda gasped in annoyance, but Link wouldn't want to have any of it. 

"Ah, it's not official yet, but we have concrete plans already. So, don't get your hopes up."

Growling, the man disappeared and Link turned to Zelda who gaped at him.

"Hm?"

"Since when do we have concrete plans to get married? Didn't we both agree that we don't want to rush that topic?" She wasn't mad, thankfully, more… confused.

"Uhm, well. I thought a little fakery would be the quickest way to get rid of him. And I have concrete plans to ask you one day."

Her unbelieving look turned quickly into a fit of laughter and she snorted into his shirt. "Seriously, faking things is a terrible habit. You were not supposed to pick that up."

"Oops." Link grinned at her.

Two gongs announced the end of the break and they snuggled on their couch once more, eagerly awaiting the second part of the play. With his face so close to her hair, the earlier scare came back to Link. He squeezed her and closed his eyes, inhaling her scent.

"Link," she whispered, "are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just… I just had a moment of panic earlier when I saw him kissing your hand. But I'm okay, I know I can trust you."

She shifted in his arms until she made eye contact with him. Smiling softly, she stroked her fingers along his hairline. No matter how much he loved the play, this was a sight he could enjoy all night.

"Link, I know you've been hurt and I can't hinder your thoughts from straying. But I can guide them back, again and again." She stretched to kiss him. "You are right, you can trust me. I had enough opportunities like him in the last few years." She nodded in the direction where Perry had departed. "I never took them because it's not what I wanted. He said he adored me but he never bothered to listen when I talked about my interests. He wasn't overly happy about my rejection, as you may have noticed."

"Okay…" he whispered into her hair. "Thank you."

She leaned back at his chest again. Right before the first actor tumbled dramatically on stage with a plastic knife in his back, she whispered, "I have concrete plans to say yes, by the way."

He smiled and closed his eyes. Sometimes, illusions were worth looking behind. 

You might find a treasure chest.

[streetlight11]

Less of you

Summary: He lost the love of his life 4 years ago in a car accident. If he had stopped her from going to that party with her friend, maybe she would still be with him till this day. He tried hooking up with other girls but none of them could fill his void. All until he met you. A girl who worked at a café to pay for your school and house bills. You were completely the opposite of his late girlfriend but you look exactly like her. Who are you and would he have the courage to get to know you?

Theme: doppelganger au, strangers to lovers 

Genre: fluff

Warning: death, accident (please don't drink and drive people!)

WC: 3.9k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

a/n: I write when I’m bored so I may not be good. I hope you like it. I didn’t intend to copy anyone if this storyline has been written before! Also, the words in italics are a flashback! :)

“Hey babe, is it okay if I go to the party with Jiyeon?”

“I don’t know babe, I have a bad feeling about this.” Chan said.

“What? Why?”

“I… I’m not sure. I think you should stay home.”

“But babe, it’s Seori’s birthday party. I’m sure she would want me there.” She tried convincing him.

“Lucy-”

“I’ll just be there for a while, I promise I’ll text you when I’m heading home okay?” She smiled, cupping his cheek softly before disappearing down the hall to go to their shared bedroom.

Hours later, Chan was growing tensed and anxious. There was an unexplainable feeling of discomfort settling in the pit of his stomach which he doesn’t know why. He had already texted his close friends about this. All of them said the same thing. And that was to go fetch Lucy from the party. However, before he could leave the comforts of his shared apartment with his girlfriend, his cell phone began to ring obnoxiously on the kitchen island top.

It was from an unknown number but he decided to pick up the call anyway in hopes that he would hear Lucy’s voice. But what he heard next, wasn’t exactly something he thought he would hear. 

“Hello? Is this Mr Bang Chan?” The female voice spoke up on the other line.

“Uhh, yes? Who is this?”

“This is Lee Haneul speaking. I’m calling from Seoul's National Police Station. Can I confirm with you if you are related to Miss Lucy Hale?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“I’m really sorry to inform you that your girlfriend was met in a fatal car crash. We are still investigating the accident to find out what’s the cause. But in the meantime, we will need you to come down to the hospital and identify if the victim is indeed Miss Lucy. Will that be okay?”

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.” Chan said, letting the woman give out the address of the hospital he needed to go before hanging up the call.

Right after he clicked the red button, he instantly collapsed to the ground unable to feel his legs. Chan could feel the tears streaming down his face as he hugged his frame tightly. He couldn’t believe he just received that call. He wanted it to be a prank so badly. He didn’t want all of that to be true. 

Nevertheless, he went to the said hospital in search of the love of his life.

The nurse brought him to a female officer who was standing outside a closed hallway with a doctor, where Chan clarified himself to them. The three individuals soon entered the closed doors, letting the doctor lead them straight down to the basement where the mortuary was located.

Once inside, the doctor walked up to one of the silver units. After reading the name on the side of the unit, he opened the unit door only to pull out the metal stretcher that had a covered body in it. Chan had to close his eyes for a second, too afraid to look forward.

He carefully made his way to the doctor. The man proceeds to unzip the top part of the bag. The moment he pulled the bag apart, Chan immediately covered his mouth with one hand desperately as he gripped onto the metal stretcher. He broke down in a matter of seconds, enough proof to the officer that it was indeed who the victim was said to be. She carefully placed a hand on top of Chan’s shoulder while the doctor pressed his lips in a straight line.

“I’m so sorry Lucy… I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to stop you from going… I’m so sorry…” Chan whispered as he stared at the pale, blood covered female body that he used to call his girlfriend.

With that being said, the doctor proceeded to zip the bag while the officer and Chan left the mortuary. She let out a silent sigh, knowing exactly how he felt at the moment.

“Thank you for being strong and seeing her for the last time. I hope you’ll feel better soon. She’s in a better place now.” She gave him words of comfort. Even though his mind wasn’t really there with him at the moment, he appreciated the officer’s kind words.

He went home that night feeling nothing but utter loss and grief. It took him at least 4 hours to accept the fact that she’s gone and that there was no way of seeing her again.

He broke the news to his close friends, all of which shock and sympathy was mixed together.

They went to her funeral but Chan felt empty.

He thought his life was going to be dull and miserable now that he lost her. He wasn’t sure if he could continue to live but his friends made it a point to let him go on his days without feeling at a loss. They were truly the friends anyone could ask for.

4 years went by where Chan still tends to miss her presence. But instead of grieving about it, he finally accepts the fact that she was no longer on this earth. Despite meeting new people, new potential partners in his life, none of them could seem to fill the void that has been eating him alive for the past few years.

There were some who he had genuine interest in. But somehow, that relationship never worked out and he wasn’t one to dwell on things for too long. For he just simply moves on with his life and goes about his daily routine.

It was a bright Saturday morning, Chan had already promised Changbin and Jisung to have a morning workout session together.

“So… Hyung, are you contacting anyone?” Jisung asked as he turned to Chan who was currently lifting weights.

“No. I haven’t contacted anyone in months…” Chan sighed. Dropping the barbell onto the ground.

“Why not?” Changbin asked out of curiosity.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like anyone’s of my interest.” Chan shrugged his shoulders. The two boys looked at each other only to exchange a knowing look which Chan couldn’t bother to even notice. After they were done with the workout session, the boys left the gym to make their way to a nearby café that they had been going to every time they ended their workout.

They had just entered the café, strong coffee bean aroma filling their nostrils as they walked up to the counter. Only for Chan to halt in his steps when he saw just who was standing behind the counter, taking orders. Both Changbin and Jisung also came to a stop when they saw who Chan was staring at.

“No way…” Chan whispered under his breath. Jisung desperately clinged onto Chan’s arms only to ask in a confused tone.

“Umm… Hyung, is that…?”

“No… It can’t be.” Chan said as they carefully made their way closer to the cashier. The three of them queued up behind the rest of the customers but their eyes couldn’t seem to leave her.

After the customer in front of them walked away, the person standing behind the counter finally locked eyes with all three of them before flashing them a warm smile.

“Good morning! What can I get for you today?” She said. Chan was too dumbfounded that he couldn’t even speak so Changbin did it first.

“Hi, can I get one Iced Americano.” She keyed in his order before turning back to the remaining two.

“Anything else?” She asked with a smile.

“Umm, can I get one Iced Tropical Passion Tea?” She nodded as she entered his order into the machine. Just then, the minute she looked up, Chan had the most prominent frown on his face and she wondered why.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” However, when she received no particular reply from him, she decided to joke around.

“You know, if your order is written on my face, I would so gladly take them down for you.” With that, Chan finally snapped out of his trance. He shook his head, letting his brown locks shift from side to side.

“Uhh… right. S-Sorry. I’ll just have a regular Iced Strawberry Lemonade Green Tea.” She smiled and proceeded to key in his order, only for Changbin to hold his card out. After he was done paying, she asked him for his name or initial. Telling him that she will call out to him once the drinks are made.

The guys went over to a table right next to the window but Chan’s eyes were glued on her. Watching as she made their drinks while she joked around with her co-worker.

“She might look like her but she’s definitely not like her.” 

Changbin commented softly before Jisung hummed in agreement. But Chan still couldn’t seem to let this new information digest into his brain. This girl looked exactly like Lucy except maybe her style and her hair colour but her face was like a copy paste of Lucy.

Lucy was slightly girly and definitely more fashionable in terms of the things she wore. She always loved branded items. She wore mostly dresses or skirts everyday, with designer clothes. She normally wore heels and tends to look richer than she really was. However, Lucy can be very arrogant towards people she doesn’t like or doesn’t know. She would never openly smile to just anyone, nor would she talk to anyone aside from Chan and her close friends. 

Unlike Lucy, this girl was nothing like Lucy and Chan could see the vast difference.

Lucy would never work at a café shop because to her, these kinds of jobs are for people who are not able to support themselves financially. This girl not only works as a barista at a café, her sense of fashion is definitely more laid back compared to Lucy.

She wore a plain white shirt with denim skinny jeans and a pair of Nikes with her café apron on. She had her hair in a low messy bun to keep her hair from falling into customer’s drinks while making them. Character wise, she was a lot more friendlier than Lucy. She had quite a bubbly side to her when she greeted new customers at the cashier.

Chan was just too absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear her calling out to Changbin. The latter went back to the collection point, not forgetting to get a glimpse of her name on her nametag.

“Thanks… (Y/N).” Changbin smiled, making her return the favour with a small nod.

Chan knew he shouldn’t do it but he wanted to. He wanted to get to know her a little better. Which is why he decided to come visit her again the following week. She was currently leaning against the counter top, facing the café entrance while her co-worker and close friend, Moonbin was fooling around with her since the café was sort of empty with only 6 tables max being occupied.

She had just punched his abdomen softly when he threw a balled tissue onto the top of her head.

Just then, the sound of doorbell chiming caught their attention. She turned towards the door, only to see Chan enter the café. She immediately smiled after remembering his face from last weekend.

Moonbin went to go hide behind the coffee machine, pretending to be busy.

“Hi, welcome to Daisies Café. What can I get for you today?” She greeted Chan with a smile, making him mimic her expression.

“Umm, hey. I think I’ll just have an Iced Berry Mint Tea.” She keyed in his order before asking him if there was anything else he wanted. When he said no, she nodded and proceeded to charge him for it. After she was done, she took the cup and asked him for his name or initial.

“Chan.” She let his name roll off her tongue quietly before smiling at him. She went over to Moonbin only to see the boy grinning like an idiot.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” She asked her same aged colleague.

“Nothing… He’s kinda your type, no?”

To that, she glanced over to Chan who was seated near the window. He had his laptop on the table with a headphone on his head. A smile graced onto her lips, ignoring Moonbin’s comment and instead, focusing on making Chan’s drink. She knew if she called his name, he wouldn’t be able to hear so she opted to bring his drink over to him instead.

She brought him his drink only for Chan to smile at her, his cute dimples coming to view.

“Oh! Sorry!” 

He apologized before taking the glass from her, feeling her fingers brushing lightly over hers. She got visibly flustered as she pulled her hands back a little too quickly. Chan simply let out a soft chuckle when she excused herself to continue working when he gently gripped her wrist to stop her.

“Hey, umm, are you free later?” He asked.

“I… yeah. Why?”

“Do you… maybe wanna grab dinner with me?” She got quiet for a moment, making him feel bad.

“Uhh, you don’t have to agree! It’s okay.” He reassured her. But there was just something about him that made her smile, a warm feeling blossoming in the pit of her stomach.

“I finish at 5.” She said with a small smile on her face.

“Oh… uhh, great. I’ll come pick you up then.”

“Okay.” She giggled before leaving his table.

7 months was definitely longer than what he had in mind about being friends with her. All the girls that he has dated or contacted ever since Lucy passed wouldn’t last for more than a month. During the last few months, Chan got to know about her background a little better.

Although he does know that (Y/N) can never be Lucy, he slowly started to like (Y/N) for who she is and not just because she looked like Lucy.

In fact, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he actually likes (Y/N)’s personality slightly better.

It was a sunny Saturday evening and she was having a day off. She was just mopping her living room when her phone began to ring. She placed her mop on the bucket only to go to the desk right beside the hallway where her phone was sitting.

It was Chan’s caller ID.

“Hello?” She said.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just cleaning my apartment.”

“Do you need an extra hand?” She could hear him chuckle on the other side of the line.

“If you don’t mind getting down and dirty.” She laughed.

“Sure. Then afterwards, I was wondering if you’d wanna meet my friends and hang out with them?” Chan asked softly, making her pause.

For the past few months, (Y/N) had gotten closer to Chan when he kept coming back to the café only to become a regular customer there. However, she has never met Chan’s friends properly simply because she was shy and slightly nervous around a huge crowd.

Chan seemed to read her concerns through the silence. Hence, the reason why he was telling her that she didn’t have to agree to it if she didn’t want to. But she didn’t want to keep rejecting his kind offer of meeting his close friends. She wouldn’t want him to feel bad for asking her so she decided to go with it. About an hour later, Chan came to her place as promised before, only to help her with her spring cleaning.

They joked around with each other a few times, earning soft laughs from them both.

They were just moving their legs back and forth on the ground, dancing along to the music she played in the background when she accidentally slipped. She lost her balance and almost fell backwards but he caught her in time.

Chan wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back up against him. A soft gasp left her lips as he asked her if she was okay. But all she did was laugh out loud from her clumsiness. 

He smiled down at her, letting her press her forehead against his shoulder.

After her laughter had died down, she pulled away from him when she felt his arms still securely wrapped around her body. She glanced up, tilting her head to meet his. What she wasn’t ready for was the close proximity of their faces. She could feel his warm breath hit her lips. 

Chan’s eyes naturally fell down to her lips, letting it linger there for a second too long. Before anyone could do anything, Chan’s phone rang in his back pocket. He pulled away not forgetting to apologize to her. 

“Hey. Yeah. I’m at (Y/N)’s house. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll be there. Bye Minie.”

Chan hung up the call only for (Y/N) to ask who it was. He said it was Seungmin asking if he was coming to Hyunjin’s apartment later to hangout. She gave him a small smile. About 2 hours later, they were both making their way to Hyunjin’s apartment in Chan’s jeep. She changed into a slightly more casual outfit which was just a fitted shirt, a large flannel, denim skinny jeans and a pair of her favourite sneakers.

When they arrived at Hyunjin’s apartment, Chan walked with her beside him the whole time. They were talking about school projects when he stopped in front of the wooden door.

He gave it a few knocks only to turn to her with a slight frown.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked again to make sure she was really okay. But when he received a nod and a smile, Chan’s shoulders relaxed for a bit before the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde boy whom she had never met before.

“Hey hyung!” Hyunjin’s eyes then met hers. She noticed the way his mouth hung open slightly as he took in her features.

“Woah.” He whispered under his breath before he quickly shook his head and welcomed them in. She saw the amount of shoes by the doorstep, making her feel slightly anxious and Chan seemed to notice this. Hyunjin had already re-joined his other friends in the living room when she felt Chan’s hand on her back.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“H-Huh? Oh… Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry… I just… I tend to get anxious when there’s too many guys around me. I’m not used to it.” She said in a hushed whisper.

“We can go home if you want?”

“No! No, please. I’d love to meet your friends, I just need… a little time to get used to this.”

With that, Chan smiled as he cupped her face with one hand only to whisper a soft ‘okay’ before leading her into the living room. That’s when she finally met his friends in person properly. All 7 pairs of eyes were now staring at her with bright expressions but she seemed to feel small under their gazes.

Chan giggled when he felt her gently grip his forearm with both hands, making him speak up to his friends.

“Guys. This is (Y/N). (Y/N), these are my friends.” Chan introduced, only for her to smile to them shyly, partially hiding behind Chan’s larger frame. Some of them couldn’t help but chuckle. They found her quite adorable to say the least.

It took her about an hour or two to warm up to them but eventually, she did. This only made Chan even more proud of her. They were all gathered in Hyunjin’s living room, currently watching a Marvel movie. She was seated on the couch in between Chan and Jeongin, with Changbin right beside her feet on the floor.

They were watching the movie, Jisung and Felix occasionally making comments during the show. Minho was starting to drift off to Lalaland at the side. Hyunjin, Jeongin and Changbin were playing a game on their phones and Seungmin was busy reading an online book.

(Y/N) and Chan were watching the movie in silence but he did notice her getting closer to his side every time she shifts or adjusts herself on the couch. Not that he was complaining.

Just then, Jeongin suddenly flinched harshly beside her.

This was enough to make her jump. However, this caused her to accidentally lean against Chan who had his arm around her waist.

She blushed at this sudden contact. Jeongin apologized to her for scaring her but she simply laughed it off and told him it was fine. But the minute she turned back to Chan, she could feel her breath hitch in her throat with how close his face was to her.

Unfortunately, he was close enough to hear it but he didn’t mock her for it. In fact, he actually giggled thinking it was cute. 

“You okay, love?” His soft voice sultry to her ears.

She hummed in response, only to look forward to the tv screen. Chan chuckled beside her but she ignored it, knowing he probably saw the pink tint on her cheeks. A few hours later, they finally called it a night where Chan sent her back home.

Once they were outside her apartment door, she turned to him to speak up.

“Thanks Chan, for bringing me to meet your friends. They’re really genuine people.”

“No worries. I knew you’d love them.” He chuckled. Suddenly, the air became hot as she struggled to find the right words.

“Chan…”

“Yeah?”

The room fell silent for a moment as they both just stared at each other. Trying to decipher what the other would do next. But she was one step faster than him when the next thing she did was literally what he planned on doing. In one swift movement, she leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his soft full lips. Chan stood there completely bewildered, unable to take in the fact that that really just happened.

She wasn’t sure how long he would stay like that so she took this chance to hide from him. Wanting to avoid any awkward situations if he doesn’t feel the same way for her. Right when she was about to say goodbye to him and enter her apartment, Chan quickly caught her wrist. She turned around to him with a slightly baffled look. But Chan was cheeky. He used his other hand to pull her closer by her waist only to press his lips on hers again. 

This time, letting his lips stay there slightly longer than before.

She melted into the kiss as soon as he kissed her, making him smile against her lips. She slid her hand up his chest, tangling her fingers in his soft brown locks.

Chan guides her gently back until she is pressed against the door, hugging her waist securely in his arms. She pulled away for air, feeling him press his forehead against hers softly. A few seconds later, Chan whispered softly just loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m really happy to have met you.”

She could feel the butterflies erupting in her stomach at his words. She smiled as he continued.

“I thought my life was over after losing who I thought would be with me forever. But I was wrong. And I realised it when I first saw you at the café that day. Thank you for being there (Y/N). I honestly don't know how my life would have turned out if I didn’t meet you that day.” 

With that being said, she smiled. Cupping his face with both hands gently only to speak up.

“I’m glad I could be the source of happiness for you, Chan.”

Chan kissed her again sweetly before pulling back to say the 3 words he had been wanting to say to her. Only for her to return the favour.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too Chan.”

[peachyteabuck]

something about the self

↪ summary: Steve Rogers had been nothing but a gentleman. 

 But now he was home, alone, the scent of your perfume lingering on the jacket he let you wear when the sun had gone down and the feeling of your lips against his cheek as you stepped inside your own apartment after the date unforgettable.

↪ pairing: steve rogers x reader

↪ words: 966

↪ trigger warnings: male masterbation. something short and self indulgent and slutty, as everything should be

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Steve Rogers had been nothing but a gentleman.

He had picked you up at your apartment and made nice with your roommate – a woman too deep in her dissertation cave to say much besides a grunt and a muffled “heyo” before she scurried back up to her room. He complimented your cramped space that you still paid too much for despite having two roommates, and asked questions about your collection of knick-knacks that you bought on various web-based selling platforms.

He had paid for the date he had planned and kept his hand in regions considered polite even by the standards his Ma had lectured him about when he took Susie Reynolds on a date in middle school. He listened intently when you spoke and has asked questions that indicated he did so.

Steve Rogers had been nothing but a gentleman.

But now he was home, alone, the scent of your perfume lingering on the jacket he let you wear when the sun had gone down and the feeling of your lips against his cheek as you stepped inside your own apartment after the date unforgettable. He toes his shoes off with ease, his black jeans following soon after. He leaves them there, in the hallway of his apartment, as he makes his way to his bedroom and falls backwards onto his unmade bed.

Steve, determined to focus on anything but your tits, had gotten himself off that morning before getting dressed – thinking about the flirty texts you had sent back and forth the night before and those bikini pictures you had saved in the Instagram highlight (he thanks Sam every day for teaching him how to use the phone Stark had bought him) titled ‘Summer’ with a selection of yellow emojis.

The problem with this is that the serum was a little unforgiving in what he chose to call “intensity department” (at least when he was talking to the StarkTech doctors who studied him), to say the least, and even though the tissues in the trashcan underneath his bedside table marked that mornings extensive activities, he could feel himself becoming hard in his black skintight briefs.

As his clothes come off images of you take their place – skin heating as memories of you in that damned sundress flash behind his eyelids.

He thinks of the way the fabric brushed against your thighs, how the occasional breeze would push it up just enough so that Steve could see the beautiful white lace panties that made the man’s mouth go dry; of your bare shoulders and collarbones and the curve of your breasts in the lacey bra you were wearing.

Steve moves to grab at his own bulge, moaning even as he wishes it was your hand or – oh, Heaven help him – your mouth.

The same mouth that sipped from a fresh lemonade and left rosy lipstick marks on the plastic straw as you moaned at how good it tasted; the same mouth that bit into pre-cut bites of watermelon and licked up melted popsicle from your fingers.

He wraps a spit-slack palm around himself, eyes screwed shut as he slowly strokes himself.

He thinks of how condensation from the extra large iced tea you were drinking from dripped down your chin and fell between your breasts, how he tried to nonchalantly disappear below the neckline of your summer dress while you talked about…fuck? What even were talking about?

Steve’s pace quickens, desperate not to become distracted by his overly-horny memory.

He thinks of how you got cold as the day went on and he gave you his jacket, and how you placed it over your shoulders and how it was so big on you. He imagined himself over you, under you, behind you, in front of you – his body so much larger and stronger than yours as he pounded into your hot, wet pussy.

And then – fuck – you bought that ice cream cone when you and him were walking that trail and the sun wasn’t setting but it also wasn’t as high in the sky as it used to be.

It was soft serve, plain vanilla, and – just as the popsicle did – it melted down your hands and dripped down your wrist and was such a beautiful contrast to your skin and all Steve could think about was him in your hand instead, how he could imagine your foreheads pressed together as his hands tangled in his already mused sheets and your own hands worked over his shaft and balls and how he would beg you not to step and fuck, baby please don’t stop fuck I’m so close baby I’m so close, I’m so-

Steve spills into his own hand as a deep, guttural moan erupts from his chest. If it sounds suspiciously like a choked version of your name, Steve doesn’t think about it as he cleans himself off with even more tissues, exhaustion finally overcoming him as endorphins flood his veins.

As he relaxes, Steve’s hooded eyes delay closing for an extra few seconds when he sees his once-black phone screen light up – flashing a news notification from CNN and (most importantly) a text from you.

hey! i had a really good time today.

Steve’s heart kicks up in his chest.

Me too

He replies.

Are you free this weekend?

Love to see you again

He ignores Sam’s voice in his head telling him not to triple text. Steven Grant Rogers is a grown adult man, who will text pretty women as many times in a row as he wants.

Luckily for his anxiety, he gets a text back almost immediately.

yeah! i’d love that!!

And so you and Steve plan one more date, and the man falls asleep with the widest smile he’s ever broken out in plastered across his blissed face.

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys and what they order at Starbucks

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna.

**I will stick with the usual suspects, but from time to time I will add a character if they fit with the scenario~ Hence why Tsukasa Iizuna will be joining us today~**

Akaashi Keiji: Starbucks Double Shot on ice

It’s kinda self explanatory honestly.

Just a bunch of caffeine, with MORE caffeine, but with a nice little touch of milk and sweet.

Perfect for a nice wake up on a saturday morning.

But it’s also a nice motivator for practices, and it has saved Bokuto’s life on several occasions.

He doesn’t really like black coffee, but he doesn’t want it super sweet either, so this is the perfect compromise for his caffeine needs and taste buds.

I feel like he’s one of those people that drinks caffeinated coffee, but when they go decaf they get huge headaches *cough* withdrawals.

Washio Tatsuki: Chai Tea Latte

There’s something so comforting and calming about this drink that has made it Washio’s go to.

He’s not a big fan of cold drinks so he tends to stick with the warm ones.

He likes coffee just fine, but he strikes me as someone who, if given the option, will go for tea over coffee.

But Chai Tea is the perfect inbetween for coffee/tea lovers!

...It also has a decent amount of caffeine, and has also saved Bokuto’s life on a few occasions.

Konoha Akinori: Iced Passion Tango Tea Lemonade

He doesn’t know what it is, but he can’t handle coffee AT ALL.

The flavors too strong, and it’s like he’s drinking water that’s been burned.

So, coffee’s a no-go for him.

But, tea is quite nice.

He used to just get the normal iced-tea, but then his little sister got this...thing...

Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to try it one day.

He didn’t expect it to actually taste good so when it did he made it his go-to order, deciding to ignore the questioning stares he got whenever he ordered it.

Kita Shinsuke: Earl Grey Tea

A nice, calming and simple drink.

He doesn’t like the super sweet drinks, but he isn’t the biggest coffee drinker.

But a plain hot tea does the trick for him.

Also doesn’t care if it’s caffeinated or decaf, he can go from one to the other without problem.

All in all, he prefers the simplicity and cozy feeling the drink gives off.

Suna Rintaro: Pink Drink

Now, heRe mE oUt

He doesn’t really care for tea or coffee, they’re fine but he wasn’t the biggest fan.

He had taken his little sister to starbucks cause ~why not~

She had gotten the ‘Pink Drink’ but she ended up not liking it.

Not wanting to waste like, 5 bucks, he drank it instead.

...it was pretty good.

He hasn’t been able to order anything else since, and it’s worth the teasing from the twins.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: Iced Americano

It’s literally just...coffee and like..water

Think gulping down a whole coffee pot, yeah it’s like that.

But it doesn’t bother him.

He doesn’t drink coffee often, but when he does it’s usually been a rough day.

He also has a hard time switching from caffeine to decaf, it doesn’t hit him as badly as it hits Akaashi, since he doesn’t drink it everyday.

But it definitely throws him off.

Yahaba Shigeru: Blonde Vanilla Latte

He strikes me as someone who has coffee at least once a day.

At home he’d just drink it plain with a little bit of milk n it.

But starbucks?!

That stuff is just a *little* bit too strong for him.

So, he usually goes for the blonde which is a little lighter and vanilla cause it’s ~tasty~

Will drink cold drinks in the summer and hot drinks in the winter, never the other way around.

Iwaizumi Hajime: Cold Brew w/ Milk

Basically just coffee and milk.

Usually when he has it at home he’d just drink it black, but he gets milk in it at starbucks cause that stuff is *intense*

Tries not to drink it too often cause he doesn’t want to build a dependency on it.

But on days he’s gonna be hanging out with the Seijoh 3rd years?

He downs one of these on his way there lol.

It may not be great for his heart, but it will be great for his mental stability.

Futakuchi Kenji: Horizon Chocolate Organic Milk

OKay, so they’re like the milks with the red box and the cow.

AKA the good ones, like, high quality chocolate milk.

He can drink coffee and tea, but he’d really much rather have this.

Get weird stares every time his mom, sister and him go to starbucks.

They both get their teas/coffees and he, this tall intimidating obviously older teen walks out happily drinking his milk box.

It doesn’t matter who he’s with, he’ll get it with no shame.

Daishou Suguru: Cappuccino

idk bout this one

But something about Daishou with a Cappuccino just makes sense.

Doesn’t like black coffee, well, he assumes he doesn’t.

He watched his older sister down two cups of straight coffee before his eyes when she was going through college.

He’s seen the devastating effects of caffeine.

But eh, who cares energy is energy~

He still doesn’t drink black coffee though cause yUcK.

Likes the *taste* of the cappuccino.

Numai Kazuma: Nitro Cold Brew

Likes the *buzz* it gives him.

Much like Iwaizumi, he usually has one right before he hangs out with the 3rd years.

Because babysitting all four of them, he needs it.

Has one before they leave for away games too, firstly he needs the energy.

Secondly it’s the only way he can cope with the chaos Daishou and Sakishima are no doubt planning.

Iizuna Tsukasa: Iced Caramel Macchiato

So, he likes coffee, and he likes tea.

He just can’t drink hot drinks.

It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, he will always get a cold drink.

His sisters definitely tease him though, especially when it’s 30 degrees and they’re both warming their hands with their drink while he freezes with his.

He gets the caramel macchiato because he seems like he’d have a really big sweet tooth, and seeing as at least half of it is just caramel it is perfection~

He got it a lot for Itatchiyama’s summer practices, it was the only way he was going to emotionally and mentally survive Komori + Sakusa.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid who was always too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that fateful night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  So here it is…my take on what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline and my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics.  I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence?

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside, he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his fifties greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T,” he assured him, “they’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled, “you can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, twenty-two year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some three years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

“Well if you don’t take ‘em Steve they’ll just end up withering and a-dyin’, so reckon you’d be doin’ em a kindness.” Mr Tromley shrugged “Now, my Ada has some coffee going, you want a cup before we open the doors?”

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Steve began in the usual way, pulling some simple bouquets together, varying in size and price, ready for the busy men to pick up on their way home from work, a nice present for their dame’s for the weekend. Once the stalks and lower foliage were trimmed and stripped, he fastened and tied them in simple brown waxy paper using plain brown string. Steve always insisted on using plain wrapping as anything else would detract from the beauty of the flowers. He placed the finished bouquets into one of the green buckets of water Mr Tromley fetched from the back, before he then carefully and delicately trimmed down the remaining flowers before placing them loose in their own buckets according to type, ready for the ladies, and occasional gentleman, who had the time and desire to create their own bunches.

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work fifteen minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

“I just don’t want to appear to take advantage, that’s all.” “Ah quit it.” Tromley waved his hand, shaking his head “If I didn’t want you to take advantage of it, I wouldn’t offer it would I? Now, eat that and get behind the counter.”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front.  He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With four failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.  

Steve glanced up, checking the detail of the window to the cobblers next door, and that was when he saw her, just walking down the sidewalk. She wore a red high-collared, cap sleeved tea-dress which flared out slightly from her hips and finished just below her knee. It was cinched in at the waist with a black belt, and was detailed round the hem and sleeve edges with pretty white lace. On her feet she wore a pair of simple, elegant black block heel courts with a T-bar buckle. Her hair was a silky, shiny chestnut which hung around her face in bouncy waves and she had a soft, gentle profile with high cheekbones, slightly flushed cheeks and ruby lips. She stopped outside the shop, examining the flowers with a smile, and then she looked up at the shop door and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. She can’t be from around here, Steve thought to himself, everyone in the neighbourhood knew when Tromley closed his doors and opened them, you could set your watch by it. Still, she hung around, softly picking up a gardenia and holding it to her nose, smiling to herself as she inhaled.

Steve found the innocent act breath-taking. He felt a little, well, shameful in a way, to be watching her so, intruding on what was clearly a private moment but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, grace personified, and he felt a little sad as she replaced the flower, gave the buckets one last look, before she continued on her way. Steve sighed, wishing to God that the shop had been open, it would have given him an excuse to maybe see her a little more closely. Perhaps talk to her. Or not as the case maybe, Bucky was always telling him how useless he was when it came to striking up conversations with ladies. But, for now, he had to settle for watching her walk away. Only he wasn’t the only one.

“Hey pretty thing…” Steve heard a voice and turned to his left where a group of men, most likely in their late teens or early twenties, had spotted her. As Steve watched he saw one of them push himself off the lamppost he’d been leaning on and cross the street towards her. The lady stopped, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. He spoke to her again, Steve couldn’t hear the conversation but a smile tugged at his lips as the lady looked the boy up and down, disdain etched all over her pretty face before she shook her head and laughed. She made to move past the kid but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey!” He called, jumping up and hurrying across the street. “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway? Runt.”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only five foot four inches tall. He also knew that at hundred pound give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

The woman wrenched her arm away from the man’s grip and glared at him, furious green eyes bored into his as she snorted and looked the guy up and down. “He’s clearly twice the gentleman you’ll ever be. Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic, good manners jack ass?”

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” She shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” He snarled.

“Show some damned respect.” Steve shot out, and this time the man rounded on him. Steve stood stock still, his mother’s words echoing clearly in his head- you start running, they’ll never let you stop and he was aware in his peripheral that the other 2 men who’d been observing until now were starting to circle like sharks who had just had their first taste of blood.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone three, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

Steve staggered to his feet, readying himself for another hit but it didn’t come. Instead one of the guys was sent sprawling to the ground besides him, shortly followed by the other. He wheeled round to see Bucky had the one that was left standing pinned up by the collar against the brick wall to the side of the shop and Mrs T was on the door step brandishing a broom handle, a string of Italian expletives leaving her mouth.

“Get outta here!” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with three at once?”

“He didn’t pick a fight with any of them.” A soft voice spoke and both Steve and Bucky turned to look at the dame in the red dress who was dusting herself down as her eyes flitted from Bucky, to Steve, then back again. “He came to help me when one of those bozos was getting a little too familiar.”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour.” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

 The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly. There was nothing else to say other than she was drop dead gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I mean, not pleasure, obviously. No one likes seeing a beautiful dame getting hassled, I mean woman, not that…” he shook his head, as Bucky nudged him. He was rambling, as per usual. “I err, I should…”he gestured to the shop as Mr and Mrs Tromley were now looking at the mess of fruit all over the floor.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault, dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?”  She asked, a little shyly. “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

Tromley took it from him, scanned it and then turned to walk into the shop, beckoning for Bucky to follow him. Steve’s eyes followed his friend’s broad back as Bucky paused in the doorway and stopped, turning back to the woman. Steve groaned inwardly, he knew that face, Bucky was about to turn on the charm and she was no doubt going to fall in a pool at his feet, just like most of the other girls in the neighbourhood.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” She countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” She asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” The lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling. “Most girls just can’t seem’ta say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again.

Pretty name? Really? That’s the best you can do?

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

Glad of the distraction, Steve nodded and turned to the various bunches of flowers. “I err, I noticed you were admiring the gardenias, so…” “You were watching me?” she spoke and Steve looked at her, ready to start protesting that wasn’t what he’d been doing when he spotted the glint in her eyes and he shook his head giving a sigh. She grinned “I love gardenias, lilies are my favourite but gardenias are pretty too.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad, Bucky Barnes!” She looked at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me, Stevie!”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

Mrs Tromley choked a little on her coffee as she looked at the younger woman, flashing her a wink. Katie bit her lip, her mouth curling up into a small smile as she rummaged in her purse, pulling out a small leather wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me,” Mr Tromley smiled, “seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language, Steven!” She scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

With a groan Steve folded the $5 note up and slid it into the pocket of his slacks. Mrs Tromley muttered something about going to check on her scones which were in the oven upstairs and Mr Tromley headed into the back, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma, “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

Steve rolled his eyes well naturedly. He hadn’t been to the Barnes’ for dinner for a week so he wasn’t surprised Winnie had sent Bucky with an invitation that was more of an instruction than anything. “Okay, thanks Buck.”

Bucky gave him a salute before he headed out of the store, whistling to himself. Steve took a deep breath, shook his head and turned back to his work, pushing all thoughts of the stunning young woman in the red dress out of his mind.

*****

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” She taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“I can do this all day.” Steve huffed, swinging his fist at the guy again. The jerk easily blocked Steve’s feeble punch with his arm, delivering a huge jab with his left which sent Steve sprawling straight into the side of the trashcan from which he’d picked up the lid before. As Steve lay dazed, he heard a familiar voice breaking through the fog.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky yanked the guy backwards by his jacket, shoving him a little down the alleyway. The guy swung at Bucky who dodged it almost lazily, before delivering a punch of his own, placing a firm boot up the guys ass as he retreated hurriedly. Watching as he scooted away, Bucky turned to Steve who was stood with his hands on his knees, steadying himself.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” His eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

Bucky looked at him sympathetically before he smiled, and looked an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer in a friendly gesture as they both began to head back down the alley towards the main road.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I know, but…” “No buts, man! I mean who knows when I’m gonna see you again now I’m actually being sent into combat and not just back to Camp McCoy. You know, London is a little further afield than Wisconsin “

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

*****

A couple of hours later the two of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some four years ago at the age of twenty-two, and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bucky shook his head as they wandered down the steps towards the main pavilion area “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky grinned, and Steve sighed heavily. Yup, there it was. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned and waved to two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who stood a few feet away and Steve stopped dead as one of the girls waved back, calling out to Bucky.

Great, here we go again.

“What did you tell her about me?” Steve groaned. “Only the good stuff.” Bucky smirked as they walked towards the girls, Steve brushing his hand through his hair, making sure it was as tidy as he could.

Bucky introduced the girls as Connie and Bonnie. It was obvious from the start that Connie was the one Bucky was trying his luck with, although to be fair Bonnie might as well have been with Bucky too for all the attention she paid to Steve. As they wandered into the Pavilion, Steve stopped to purchase a bag of sweets before he followed on behind the other 3, glancing around at the various exhibits.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

There was a little bit of murmuring from people in front of them as they stopped, glancing at the large stage in front of them which was currently dark, but then there was movement, music struck up and Connie grabbed Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” She squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Smooth and cool as a cucumber, Howard Stark strode onto the stage, taking off his top hat, whilst he smiled, handing it to the announcer before kissing her as the crowd cheered. Howard smirked a little, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket which he used to dab at his mouth before he addressed his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” at that point Steve held the small paper bag over towards Bonnie who looked at it, then him, almost scathingly as Howard continued his speech. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?”

“You know…” A vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few days ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a bonbon. In doing so, she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush as Bucky turned, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface!” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes moved back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” Howard spoke, and with that he turned to fiddle with a few switches on the podium and the car started to hover ever so slightly off the ground. Steve felt his mouth drop open in awe as in front of him Bucky let out an astonished mumble.

“Holy cow!”

But he spoke too soon, as the jets making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned. “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned. “One hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it.”

Not quite able to believe his luck, Steve watched her go, smiling to himself before he glanced around and his eyes stopped on the familiar Uncle Sam poster pointing at him, with an arrow directing him to a recruitment centre. What the hell, he had nothing to lose…and an hour was plenty of time. Decision made, he followed the signs and jogged up the steps into the building, pausing to take a look around as people were milling in the carpeted hallway.

“Come on soldier!” a woman giggled at her male company, pulling him away from a mirror making him look like a soldier. Once he was gone Steve stepped in front of the mirror but he was too short to fill out the face. His shoulders slumped and then suddenly, a strong hand gripped his right and Bucky chuckled.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Dollface?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed. “Good for you, Punk!”

Steve rolled his eyes and then watched as a man strode past him in an Army Uniform and when Steve looked back at Bucky, his friend’s face now sported an exasperated expression as he’d clearly realised what Steve was planning. “You’re really gonna do this again?”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned back to the girls, his arms held out to the side. “Yes, we are.” With that he turned back to Steve, shaking his head a little, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He instructed as he started to walk away.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

With a pang of sadness, Steve watched his best friend walking away, not quite sure when they’d see each other again, if indeed ever. He licked his lips and then called out to Bucky once more. “Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

With a deep breath, Steve headed into the recruitment centre, past an older gentlemen in a brown suit. He was given the usual forms to fill out, this time going with Ohio as his place of birth-thanks for that one, Buck- and he was shown to the medical examination room. After the short physical was over, he was just fastening the sleeves of his long shirt up again when a nurse walked into the room and whispered something inaudible to the doctor.

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

Steve paused for a second, glancing over his right shoulder at a sign warning against lying on enlistment forms before he glanced at the curtain, cold dread filling him. Shit, Bucky was right, they’d caught up with him. Jumping down off the bed he sat heavily in a chair and began to pull on his shoes when someone entered the cubicle. He glanced up and saw a Military Police officer looking at him and he swallowed a little nervously. But before he could say anything another man entered, the man Steve had walked past about forty minutes or so previously in the foyer, and he was clutching a file in his hands.

“Thank you.” The man spoke to the Police Officer who left, pulling the curtains closed behind him. Steve watched as the man turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “So, you want to go overseas.” The man pulled the file from behind him, opening it “Kill some Nazis.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” Erskine closed the file, picking it up “But you didn’t answer my question.” He strode over and stopped in front of Steve “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, huh?” Erskine smiled before he turned to leave “I can offer you a chance” he said, whipping the curtains open “Only a chance.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was this Doctor guy actually telling him he’d done it, that he’d finally made it into the army? He had no idea what the Strategic Science Reserve was, or why Erskine had questioned him so, but right now he didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

“You’ll be sent your papers and instructions shortly” Another man spoke to him, taking the file off him and handing him back the recruitment slip. Steve nodded. “Be ready, the SSR are on a schedule.”

Steve nodded, before he was shown out of the room. Still in a daze he clutched the piece of paper in his hand and wandered back to the area where he’d left Bucky before. And then he remembered Katie.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to thing you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath. “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” She asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in ten minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” She grinned and he took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” He began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” She smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here,well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“In a fashion.” Katie shrugged. “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

They walked around the expo grounds, taking in the sights and various attractions. Steve was surprised to find his awkwardness ebbing away with each minute he spent in Katie’s company. She was down to Earth, easy to talk to and made him feel comfortable about himself…although his good spirits might have also been due to the fact he’d finally made it into the army. His meeting with Dr Erskine had baffled him a little, all truth be told, but he’d liked the man. There was something about him that told Steve he could trust him, and Steve was normally a pretty good judge of character.

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good two inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be busy.” Steve shrugged

“What, he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly. “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division.” He looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing, just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly. “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s okay.” He started to back track. “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at, well, my other job.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed. “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath. “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

At her compliment he felt himself once more flush, and the heat in his neck rose even more as she leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his cheek. She pulled back a little, locking her eyes onto his and he swallowed, the lump in his throat now only rivalled by the one he was starting to feel in his slacks. And then, he had no idea how it happened but her lips were suddenly pressed to his. He froze momentarily, but then he went with his instinct and mirrored her movements, his eyes fluttering closed. Her hands gently curled over his shoulder, his automatically falling to her hips, shaking a little against the fabric of her dress as the kiss deepened slightly, the warm edge of her tongue flicking at his lips. He parted his mouth a little, allowing her to curl her tongue against his, a movement that made him shudder and he was beyond disappointed when she pulled away. She smiled against his mouth, her nose bumping his slightly as his cheeks felt hotter than the sun. He knew he was blushing, furiously, having just had his first proper kiss in the middle of a huge exhibition, but Katie seemed completely nonplussed as she smiled at him.

“For luck.” She whispered, stepping back slightly, before she turned and headed away, casting a glance back over her shoulder at him, flashing him another cheeky little wink. “See you around.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

*****

 As it turned out Steve didn’t have long to wait for his posting at all. The following day he received his papers assigning him to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey as part of his recruitment to the SSR’s “Operation Rebirth” programme, whatever that was. He assumed he’d receive more details upon arrival. It wasn’t that which surprised him the most however, it was the date upon which he was ordered to report. Wednesday. As in, tomorrow. Whilst it didn’t give him much time to prepare, it didn’t bother him too much. He had meagre belongings anyways and anything he didn’t want to take with him he packed up into smaller boxes with the help of Bucky’s teenage sister Rebecca, Buck’s dad promising to keep it safe for him until he got back.

Winnie was beside herself when Steve broke the news that he too was enlisting, but she wished him well and made him promise to write. As did the Tromleys, who both took the news even worse than Bucky’s family had. Ada having first burst into tears then hugged him so hard he thought she was going to crush him half to death, whilst Mr Tromley had shook his hand and warned him that if he didn’t come back alive, with all 4 limbs, he’d kill Steve himself.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off.  Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for seven years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at six am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

**** Chapter 2

[formeryelpers]

Auzzy the Bear, 33 E Main St, Los Gatos, CA 95030

Fro-yo girl here. Auzzy the Bear is a cute café in downtown Los Gatos. Quite a few people wandered in for a cup of froyo. The froyo and toppings are self-serve and currently priced at $0.85/oz (on the high side, but it’s Los Gatos). There were eight froyo flavors to choose from. Ask for sample cups. Toppings were labeled: cookies, marshmallows, mochi, coconut, candy, cereal, jellies, chocolate chips, fruit, popping boba, syrups, cookies, etc.

Froyo flavors of the day:

Greek plain tart: icier than I expected, tasted like Euro tart, fairly tangy

Coconut taro

Double chocolate

Stevia vanilla: icy, not much vanilla flavor, weird Stevia flavor

Cookie dough

Pina colada

Cake batter

Strawberry lemonade sorbet

I was given two sample cups and I didn’t like either flavor I tried.

In addition to froyo, they have a variety of boba tea and coffee drinks, including Vietnamese coffee and Vietnamese egg coffee, pastries, banh mi, sandwiches, smoothies, etc. If you buy a sandwich, you get $2 off a coffee or tea drink of your choice or a free can of soda.

Grilled pork banh mi ($9.95): lemongrass grilled pork, pork pate, pickled carrots & daikon, cucumber, cilantro, jalapenos, house mayo on a baguette. The pork was really good: big pieces, lemongrass flavor, tender, flavorful. The sandwich had all the elements and was larger than usual with soft baguette that had a bit of crunch. The pate wasn’t that flavorful though (or there wasn’t enough of it)

The café is very cute and inviting with brick walls, plants, and modern decor. There’s free wi-fi. They also have outdoor seating. I found free street parking across the street.

You know you love me. X0 X0, fro-yo girl.

3.5 of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[jessie-writes-things]

Coffee: Benny Miller

Context: I finally bugged me mate into watching TF. She said Benny reminded her of her athlete brother who never drinks water and never seems to sleep but somehow has a constant supply of energy. Turns out he pounds a stupid amount of strong bulletproof coffee every day. Anyway, I thought it was funny and decided to write this.

I might come back and write a none-pisstake piece for Benny's mini at some point, but for now we have this mess. 😂

Pairing: Benny Miller x Neutral Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Words: 600

Genre: Comedy. Generic - just stupidity, really. 😅

Warnings: just some swearing.

Summary: Benny seemingly has endless energy and it bugs the reader.

This weeks minis masterlist!

Benny had a lot of energy in him. That wasn’t surprising. Actually, you were envious of it. He would come back from a fight at gone one in the morning, be up at six to train with Will, then would go to work at Frankie’s garage most of the day before taking a nap and repeating.

You had spent a solid year trying to figure out how the fuck he managed it. At least when you first met him back in high school, Benny would pound energy drinks by the case. But after the How It’s Made special on energy drinks showing the chemicals they shoved in each can, that habit was quickly knocked out of him.

Ironic, considering Benny was a human trash can and would eat anything presented to him.

Didn’t drink tea unless he had to.

In fact, you had never seen him drink plain water which was…concerning to say the least. Unless you counted Lucozade as “water” which you and Will did not…Benny did.

It became a game, a very sad one-sided game but you were determined to beat him. You’d try to wake up before him, which was near impossible, figuring he must be downing a litre of coffee or some miracle drug before heading out for the day.

But he didn’t step foot in the kitchen.

You were half asleep at the kitchen counter when the front door sounded, knocking you back into reality and you kind of just sat there in a haze, confused and dumbfounded because how!?

HOW!?

The mornings continued like that, every day for a week you would try to catch him out and nothing. You learnt NOTHING about his magical ways of infinite energy.

Until Saturday morning.

You woke up late…well, late in relative. You woke up at nine and Benny had already been out to the gym and back with only freshly washed hair to prove it. You didn’t say anything, your brain working too slow to formulate a proper good morning.

Instead, you were too preoccupied with the mug resting on the coffee table. The damp mug that left a ring on the coffee table because God forbid, he ever used a coaster. The mug that looked far too clean despite being damp. The mug that Will had brought you as a piss-take for your birthday that you never used because fuck him.

‘You coming to sit down?’

You sat down, opposite end of the couch, some fight replays flickering quietly on the TV but you only saw the mug.

You nearly missed the way his brow raised, the hint of confusing in his voice, ‘It’s lemonade.’

‘How?’

‘From the bottle…in the fridge?’

‘I meant how do you have so much energy!’ You finally pulled your gaze away from the mug.

Benny was so close to laughing, ‘This why you’ve been waking up so early this week?’

‘You’re always active! You barely sleep! And you never drink water, which is worrying, by the way!’

‘You alright there?’ He waited patiently for you to finish rambling, hiding his shit-eating smile behind his hand, knowing his amusement would not play out well in this situation. You took a few deep breaths before nodding, ‘I have a litre of coffee every day at work. Real strong stuff Fish’s family send him.’

Now you were staring at him, wide eyed. That answered one question but bought up so many more, ‘How the fuck have you not had a heart attack yet.’

How the fuck did he even fight with that much caffeine in him?

Benny shrugged, picked up his mug and headed to the kitchen, ‘Genetics?’

The whole time you watched him, too aware that he could just drop at any given second.

Fuck that.

[keelywolfe]

FIC:  Someone to Drive ch.2 (standalone)

Summary: The road trip continues!

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Melancholy, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Developing Relationship

Part 1

~*~

Read Part 2 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

That first day, Stretch slept through most of it. Curled up in the passenger seat, he didn’t bear witness to the movement of the sun overhead, traveling across the sky the same way they were traveling along the highway. Signs passed by, billboards for luxury apartments and advertisements for the closest fast food drive-thru, along with more esoteric restaurants offering old fashioned family meals and fun.

They stopped for gas twice. The first time Edge paid at the pump and the second, he went inside the convenience store where he ignored the stares of the other patrons as he purchased drinks and a selection of pastries and snacks with expiration dates that might well extend into the next decade. There wasn’t time to inspect them too closely. The car was locked but he was deeply uncomfortable leaving Stretch sleeping in it alone and surrounded by unfamiliar Humans.

In the brief time it took him to gather up supplies, Edge kept the car in sight, waiting impatiently in the line while the Humans in front of him purchased gas and cigarettes and lottery tickets. No one approached the car, or him for that matter, and the clerk at the register hardly stammered when she gave him the total.

The bag went into the backseat, except for the drinks that ended up in the holders in the middle console; unsweetened green tea for him and lemonade for Stretch. Both were room temperature before Stretch woke. By then, they were through the remainder of this state and well past the ‘Welcome to the Pacific Wonderland’ sign to the next one.

They were as far away from every place Edge considered home as he’d ever been when Stretch stirred in a waking up sort of way rather than the sleepy rearranging of the past few hours. He sat up, his hood sliding half-off, and blinked owlishly as he looked around at the car. When his eye lights landed on Edge, he seemed to wake up a little more, slumping back into his seat.

Edge only glanced at him out of the corner of his socket and kept his gaze on the road.

“where are we?” Stretch asked. His voice was hoarse from sleep, rasping dryly.

“Somewhere in Oregon,” Edge said. He picked up the lemonade from the console without looking at it and held it out in offering. “According to the sign, they hope we enjoy our visit.”

The lemonade was nearly snatched from his hand and he listened as Stretch drank thirstily. The bottle was empty by the time he sighed out a grateful, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” That passed as the only conversation between them. There was no questioning the direction they were headed, no wheedling requests to stop at the next exit to a ridiculous roadside attraction. Edge only drove on, keeping the radio low because it seemed like the thing to do when your not-really-a-friend looked to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The only other sound was the occasional vibration of Stretch’s phone. He glanced at it a few times but never seemed to reply to any texts.

Edge already texted Undyne when they’d first stopped for gas, along with his own brother. Undyne replied with several obscenities and an agreement to feed the cat. Red did not reply at all and no one else tried to contact him. There weren’t many who would.

Mostly, Stretch sat slouched in his seat, watching the blur of passing landscape outside the window. His hands occasionally tapped on his knees to the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio and he sometimes sang along under his breath, almost too soft to be heard.

Eventually he discovered the bag of food in the backseat and scrounged through its offerings, selecting a cellophane-wrapped cheese danish for himself. The banana nut muffin was given to Edge with its plastic packaging removed, carefully wrapped in a napkin from the bag to keep crumbs from scattering over the car interior. It was surprisingly thoughtful, and Edge took his eye lights from the road long enough to murmur a thank you.

Stretch didn’t reply, already wolfing down his own pastry, though he was careful to keep the crumbs contained.

When he finished, he tucked the wrappers back into the paper bag, bringing back out with him the bottles of water Edge purchased. They replaced the empty tea and lemonade ones and both of them settled back into a much briefer silence, broken when Stretch abruptly said, “advertising.”

Edge blinked, glancing at him, “I beg your pardon?”

Stretch nodded towards the window. “that billboard. it said ‘advertising.”

“Yes?” Edge asked, cautiously. “That is what billboards do.”

“uh huh. benefit!” Stretch said triumphantly. Edge was beginning to worry about what sort of chemicals the ‘Kum and Go’ station was adding to their pastries when Stretch added, “cold!”

The point of the game clicked and Edge looked out at the approaching signs, searching. “Diesel,” Edge said, firmly.

“aw, come on,” Stretch moaned. He flopped back dramatically into his seat or at least as much as the seat belt allowed. “street signs don’t count, only billboards!”

“If that was a rule, you should have specified before you began,” Edge said, then added, “East.”

The competition began in earnest after that and the next few hours passed in a flurry of exchanged words in careful alphabetical order, peppered with the occasional out of place curse and if Stretch used ‘Qdoba’ from the green exit sign rather than a billboard in defiance of his own rules, Edge was too relieved for the dreaded ‘q’ to be vanquished to offer any protest.

It was nice, in a way, the dappled green of the passing trees around them, the billboards, and the sunshine pouring in through the windows as they quarreled, only laughingly instead the real arguments they’d had in the past.

Edge still didn’t know why they were here at all, but he was finding it didn’t really matter. Not yet.

~*~

It was barely dark when Edge pulled off into the rest stop that evening. Normally he wouldn’t have considered sleeping before midnight, but then, normally he wouldn’t have been up at three am in the morning, nor would he have spent the entire day driving. The billboard game petered out with the encroaching darkness concealing far too many words, and Stretch was half-drowsing next to him, rousing as Edge put the car into park.

“huh?” Stretch asked, drowsily. Despite all the sleep he’d had, there were still darkened smudges beneath his sockers, as if the slumber only glanced over him instead of settling in. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, blinking too hard and confused. “we stopping here?” Stretch sat up and got a better look at their surroundings. “a rest stop?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Edge agreed, unfastening his seat belt. “I may not need a bathroom, but I do need a rest.”

“a rest stop,” Stretch repeated. "we're gonna sleep at a rest stop?"

"I believe it’s traditional for road trips." Edge opened his door and stepped out into the cooling air, groaning as his aching joints basked in the chance to extend his long limbs to their fullest.

Stretch followed him, asking nervously, "isn't that illegal?"

"Not in this state. Besides,” Edge circled around to the back of his car and opened the hatchback, “no one will be able to see us back here.”

His brother had mocked him when he’d purchased an SUV, rambling on about soccer moms and incels. Edge had ignored him. Much as he would have enjoyed a convertible like Papyrus’s, practically demanded that at least one of them own something with more space and a bright red paint job was an invitation to police for a traffic stop. His face was already invitation enough, in Edge’s opinion, and when he’d bought the SUV, he’d gone with plain black.

In the back, he kept a small emergency kit stored away. Years of living in Snowdin taught him to be prepared and it was, with road flares, small traffic cones, and a neatly folded-up blanket. Edge moved the box of supplies to the front seat, out of the way, then took out the blanket and shook it out. He frowned at the size of it. “I’m sorry, I only have the one.”

Stretch only shrugged. He was gathering up the trash from the last of their snacks and the empty drink bottles, tossing them all into a nearby bin. “it’s fine, it’s not that cold.”

Very quickly they figured out that a larger blanket would have only been of minor assistance. The SUV was excellent for moving boxes and small furniture, less so for sleeping arrangements. Even with the back seats folded down, there was only enough room for them to both lay full-length if they stretched out at a diagonal. It meant sleeping far closer than he usually ever was to Stretch, both of them pressed up against each other with the musty shared blanket spread over them.

Stretch didn’t seem to mind, offering no protest to the close quarters. Point of fact, he settled in close with a sort of muted enthusiasm, as if craving the contact. Edge didn’t deny him, only sliding his arm under Stretch’s head in a very narrow makeshift pillow.

They lay together in the silent dark and as tired as he was, sleep was slow in coming. Headlights would cut through the windows as other cars pulled in and left, the traffic sounds too close, and the car interior too quiet, in a way his apartment was not, showcasing their mutual breathing. Stretch shifted next to him, his long legs bumping into Edge’s.

“i heard you moved out,” Stretch said suddenly. His voice was soft and still too loud in the quiet.

“I did,” Edge agreed and nothing more.

Stretch didn’t ask why, which was good because Edge was tired of not being able to explain, even to Red. Beneath his careless attitude and bluster, Edge knew his brother was hurt by him leaving, worried that there was no one to watch his back. Monsters often lived several generations in one home and Red surely wondered why Edge didn’t want to live in his. He wasn’t sure how to make his brother understand that he wanted a chance at something else, that simply being on the surface wasn’t enough to chase away the ghosts of Underfell. He wanted to live on his own, to figure out something that he didn’t have the words to express.

Not that he needed them, he supposed. Red always had more than enough words for both of them.

Stretch hummed curiously, “how’s that going? i mean, having your own place?”

“It’s—” Edge’s breath caught as Stretch’s pelvis shifted against his own, bumping up against his hip in what was certainly a deliberate little grind. It was distracting and not nearly as alarming as it should be. His mouth filled with soft magic almost unconsciously as it happened again. Belatedly, Edge finished on, “fine,” though he no longer remembered the question. His focus was on the slender body pressed close to his own, the surge of warmth rising underneath the threadbare blanket.

They'd kissed once before, a long time ago when they’d all still been underground. The self-proclaimed skeleton clan made up of, well, themselves, meeting for movie nights. On that night, his brother brought over a few jars of his latest batch of moonshine, the clear liquid deceptively tasteless and enormously strong. A small glass that would normally only ease the reality around them instead turned it into a blurred whirlwind, and by the next day Edge had a killer headache and few memories of the night before, save one.

Of him and Stretch, and as it turned out, their antagonism was easily muted behind the mask of hard liquor. They’d bumped into each other in the kitchen entryway, Stretch going in and Edge coming out, and their faces were so close together that to Edge’s alcohol-soaked thoughts, a kiss seemed to be the only reasonable solution.

He couldn’t recall if it was a good kiss or not, only that Stretch accepted it and that his mouth was as filled with honeyed sweetness as his words never were. But when Edge tried for another, Stretch held him back. He’d offered a lopsided smile and said with uncommon gentleness, “sorry, edgelord, i’m not really interested in sleeping with you tonight.”

Edge hadn't bothered to point out that he hadn’t offered to sleep with him. It seemed churlish when he'd already been rather kindly brushed off and neither of them ever mentioned it again. He’d long since written it off as a moment of drunken foolishness and nothing more.

He wondered if that statement still stood. The leg sliding up his own and the knee teasingly pressing almost between Edge’s femurs seemed to indicate it did not.

Edge didn’t move as a hand settled on his ribcage, beneath the blanket but over his t-shirt. He only inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity and waited. He wasn’t sure what to feel when that hand did not move, fingers only flexing, the tips briefly digging in as their warmth bled slowly through thin cotton.

"is this…all right?" Stretch asked uncertainly.

Edge closed his sockets, took in a long shaky breath and let it out in a hiss of, "Yes."

The word barely finished before a mouth caught his own. As sweet as his blurred memories, stuttering nervously before firming as Edge turned towards Stretch and their bodies slotted together easily, like pieces from the same puzzle.

Fumbling in the backseat of a car was a stage he’d skipped when it came to his sexual awakening, mostly for lack of a car. The environment lacked a great deal, room, comfort, privacy, and yet, it was difficult to care. How could he care when Stretch was shivering against him, little moans and pants escaping him as Edge let his hands wander, finding sensitive joints and cartilage to stroke and tweak, nibbling along his mandible to explore the delicate cavern of his audial canal.

It was less awkward than he might have thought, their past arguments were as distant as their home. There was only here in this car, with the occasional flash of headlights illuminating them and offering glimpses of barely exposed bone and wide sockets. Edge only tensed when Stretch fumbled with his belt buckle, wary when a hand wormed its way down the front of his pants. People were often surprised by his preference for a vulva over a penis, a few were even offended, acting as if he’d misled them or perhaps that it was beneath him to prefer being penetrated during sex. More than one sexual encounter had been ruined by the assumption that he would be the one using his cock and he couldn’t help tensing as he waited to see if this would be one of them.

But Stretch didn’t comment, his slender fingers moving with no emotion other than eagerness. When Stretch tugged impatiently at the waistband of Edge’s tight jeans, he helped shove them down, only to startle as Stretch followed their downward path, slithering lower with bony fingertips, then the wet heat of his mouth.

Edge clapped both hands over his own mouth, choking off a cry at the slippery touch of a tongue against bone and ectoflesh. He stared up the fabric ceiling of his car as it was briefly illuminated in the flash of headlamps, his pants caught around his knees and Stretch’s face buried between his femurs, only closing his sockets when the rising pleasure and that clever tongue became too much, sending him shuddering over a gloriously toe-curling peak.

All too soon Stretch crawled back up over him, his eye lights overbright and his mouth wet as he stuttered out, “god, you—you’re so—”

Edge never got to hear exactly what he was. He opened his mouth to the slick press of Stretch’s against it and tasted himself on his stroking tongue. There in the stuttering darkness, he never did find out why they were here, but he did learn a few things about Stretch and about himself.

He thought perhaps the soft, deep cry Stretch made when he came was his best discovery on this trip so far.

tbc