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thelittleredheadedmusician · 4 years ago

Text

I don't want to linger any longer

DCU Gen Rating: G Words: 7,523 AO3

In upstate New York there's a very lush, very expensive summer camp that caters to the children of the rich and famous. Bruce and Oliver happen to be those children. And they're less than thrilled to be at this camp.

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

He'd always been a quiet, almost shy child but after Martha and Thomas died he retreated far beyond. Even friends from before like Miss Zatara took coaxing and occasionally trickery to get him to interact with. At thirteen and with the beginnings of acne and voice cracks the behavior was partially to be expected. The newfound interest in The Clash was too. Still, Alfred felt strongly that the boy should have the opportunity to at least try and make some friends. So when he overheard some of the women mentioning the summer camp during one of the Wayne Foundation luncheons Bruce insisted they attend "for appearances" (and Alfred was a little worried about the thought process behind that as well but well, one thing at a time) he had to break his normal rule and butt in.

"Pardon me, but what summer camp might this be?" He tried to be as nonobtrusive as possible, it still raised some eyebrows from the women with their pearls and perfect red lipsticks. Their clothes were so immaculate that while he knew they all had nannies, looking at them you never would've even known they had children. Alfred no longer owned a single shirt that wasn't stained somewhere by something, he just hid them well.

The blonde in the most putrid shade of chartreuse he's ever seen recovered first. "Oh! Camp Open Woods. It's in upper state New York, very exclusive but so worth it." Mimi flicked her wrist and half rolled her eyes as though to indicate sending the children she never saw there was the best parenting tip she'd ever taken. Mitzie shifted her hair before continuing, "They've got hiking and horses and like there's a lake." The other women all hum and coo their agreement at how pretty it is, Muffy silenced them with a brow, she was the one who started the story after all. "The kiddos just love it there. Go for a month a time. Would be there year round if they could!" They all nod enthusiastically in agreement.

"Sounds lovely." Which isn't strictly incorrect, but Alfred sincerely doubts these women would actually know whether their children enjoyed the camp or not. "I'll have to look into it, thank you," Alfred excuses himself. He will look into it.

The camp itself does seem the definition of picturesque, with acres of land and woods as well as the lake. The cabins looked to be clean and well maintained. The extensive list of activities alone made Alfred want to go. He reached out to the nannies he'd made friends with over the years, trying to gauge how any of the kids who attended regularly really felt. And the reviews were glowing.

Alfred made an executive decision, the fresh air would be good for Bruce, and called to secure a place for June. Just one month, to test it. Bruce might not be pleased at not having been consulted but Alfred was sure the end results would be well worth it. And if not, it's not like the boy could fire him in revenge. Legal guardianship made that rather tricky.

Oliver heard someone stop in the hall outside his room. From where he sat on the floor organizing the old jazz records his mother had given him he couldn't see who it was, the bed was in the way and he didn't really want to move everything just to get up. That seemed like a lot of work. Whoever it was could just come in. Or talk. Whatever. He wasn't moving.

"Are you in here, Oliver?" he finally heard his mother ask, apparently having grown impatient.

"Yes."

"I signed you up for camp. You leave for New York in the morning. It comes very highly recommended, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Chef is making your favorite chicken parmesan as a treat for dinner at six. I will see you then." The sound of her heels were nearly silent as she made her way back down the hall with its plush carpeting.

Taking a minute to process this, Oliver stared at the short shelves in front of him momentarily. Well there went his record organizing, now he was going to have to try and pack.

Bruce narrowed his eyes as Alfred slowed to turn the car onto a narrow lane that was barely a break in the trees. A large, wooden arch above it was carved to proclaim it as the entrance to "Camp Open Woods." Somehow, Bruce managed to narrow his eyes even more. Though he suspected it made him look like he was squinting. Especially by the way Alfred pressed his lips into a tight line, an obvious tell that he was trying not to smile.

The lane curved gently through the trees until they opened up to show a field, teenagers and college students in soft blue polo shirts and khaki shorts were scattered throughout it, directing cars in where to park and kids and parents in where to go next. A girl with brightly colored beads on the ends of her tight braids waved at Bruce through the window as they passed. Tentatively, he waved back at the counselor.

Once they were parked, the sleek black sedan settling a little into the grass as they both got out, Bruce immediately slung his backpack on and beat Alfred to the trunk to pull out his bulky footlocker. "Master Bruce," Alfred chided gently, reaching in to help lift the heavy thing, "I do wish you'd let me do that."

"It's fine, Alfred," Bruce protested. Even if the help was appreciated. "Isn't the whole point of this to teach me to be self-sufficient?" Bruce tried to level his steeliest gaze on the man. The unimpressed look he got in return told Bruce he might need to work on that.

Alfred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process -- and really Bruce didn't think his actions warranted that level of dramatics -- before leveling a flat look at Bruce. "No, Master Bruce. The point of this endeavor is that you enjoy yourself with peers of your own age. Possibly make friends. Build lifelong bonds. Get a nasty sunburn on the first day and minor bear scare on the last."

Bruce frowned and lifted one end of the battered footlocker Alfred had dislodged from the attic the week before. Possibly, it had been Alfred's and come from some hidden corner of the man's room as Bruce had never seen it before even in all his exploring of the manor's nooks and crannies. "Exiting pursued by a bear is not a worthy goal, Alfred," he said dryly.

Lifting the other end of the footlocker the duo began to make their way towards the counselors with carts lined up at the front of the field. "Maybe not for yourself, but personally an exciting and Shakespearean end would be the greatest achievement of my mundane existence."

He snorted, and Alfred wondered where his own penchant for melodrama came from.

"Hiya folks!" The young man next to a cart already loaded with duffels and trunks waved brightly as they approached. "Welcome to camp! Where are you staying?"

Bruce glanced to Alfred and Alfred returned the look, both challenging the other to speak first. If Bruce admitted that he had read and memorized the pre-camp welcome packet then Alfred would see it as a win. If Alfred's patience crumbled before Bruce's then it would vastly undermine the veneer of authority Alfred had managed to paint over their strange relationship. The poor guy standing by the cart was starting to look uncomfortable.

Finally, Bruce broke. He was going to be here for a month, it's not like he'd have to see Alfred be smug during that time. "Pine Ridge," he said flatly.

The counselor visibly sagged in relief. "Ok, great! You're going to toss your gear on that cart up there where Gambit's standing then follow the road to the Health Center to turn in your paperwork and get your head and foot check."

Wrinkling his nose, Bruce nodded. He wasn't really a fan of being touched, even for medical examinations, and was a little glad he got a heads up. He'd briefly forgotten about the fact the packet had said there would be a lice and athlete's foot examination. Not that Bruce had either, which is probably why he'd let it slip his mind. They reached the next cart and a young woman with large sunglasses leant against it. Bruce squinted at the lanyard she had around her neck with an odd badge on the end as a nametag, all the counselors had variations of brightly colored and often glitter coated badges on lanyards. Each as unique as the names on them. Hers had popsicle sticks layered to make a large X and playing cards glued on top so that their back's made a place to write. "Gambit" had been scrawled in looping white paint. With red glitter. Bruce really hoped they weren't going to force him to make a glitter nametag.

"Are you living in Pine Ridge?" She asked, pushing off the cart to stand and raising her clipboard.

"Yes," Bruce said simply.

Gambit nodded. "You can toss your stuff on. What's your name?"

"Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

"Ok, double-o-seven," she smirked, checking off something on her clipboard. "I'm Gambit, head girls counselor for Pine Ridge. But just cause I'm not the one doing bed checks on you doesn't mean I'm not still in charge," she teased. Bruce was fairly certain he heard Alfred snicker. "Anyway, you'll be seeing a lot of me over the next month even though we don't share a latrine. You a first time camper?"

"Yes."

"Well then, welcome Bruce, Bruce Wayne!"

Alfred definitely snickered at that.

"Um, thanks."

She grinned and stuck her pen back behind her ear. "I'll watch your stuff until the grounds guys come and hook the cart up to the ATV to take it up to the cabins. Lucky us, we're on the hill. Nice site, one of my personal favorites actually, but you'll be getting your steps in while you're here. Whole summer or no?"

"Um, just the month." Bruce was starting to get a little overwhelmed in the face of her relentless positivity.

"Rad. Well, I hope you enjoy it! You're gonna want to follow the gravel road trail and head to the health center. I'll see you at dinner."

Bruce nodded and began to walk on, Alfred a step behind him. Once they were out of earshot, Bruce hung back slightly so that they walked next to each other and turned to Alfred. "Do you think everyone's going to be like that?"

"Well Master Bruce, I don't think that children's summer camp counselor is a position that attracts introverts," Alfred replied dryly.

Bruce glared.

"Which isn't to say, however, that every person here would be so enthusiastic."

"Hmm." Bruce didn't say anything else and they made their way to the two-story farmhouse that had a sign hanging from the porch proclaiming it the "Health Center" in silence.

A large group of people were spread out in the grass in front of the porch around a series of low, backless wooden benches. Bruce slowed as they approached, lingering on the gravel. Alfred gripped his shoulder once before gently pushing Bruce forward to step into the grass. Alfred was still a head taller than him, but Bruce was catching up and he couldn't wait for the day he could glare at the man without craning his neck. Alfred looked the picture of cool indifference and collected innocence.

"Excuse me," Alfred called, striding forward and fully expecting Bruce to follow. Which he did, but in silent protest. "Is there a queue?"

"Not really," the teenaged boy Alfred had asked shrugged. "Just give your paperwork to nurse Doc, then pick a spot on a bench and we play monkey."

"Monkey?" Bruce tried to raise an incredulous eyebrow. It was a work in progress.

The older boy's face split into a wide grin. "Yeah! You know," and here he began to howl and jump, scratching at his head in imitation of a monkey.

"Ohmystars, Apollo you're ridiculous!" Another teenager said, her silver painted crescent moon nametag read "Artemis" and the two did look like they could be siblings if not twins. "Theater kids." She rolled her eyes derisively.

Apollo stopped abruptly. "Arty, you're a theater kid."

"Tech kid. There's a difference," she snapped with practiced ease.

"She is correct," Alfred added sagely. Bruce's forehead met his palm as he hung his head.

"Thank you!" Artemis preened. "C'mon, I'll take ya in to Doc." She gestured at them to follow as she turned and headed onto the porch. Having no real other option, Bruce glanced at Alfred before following. Artemis had waited for them, holding open the screen door before shouldering open the second door and leading them into a large room with worn wooden floors and a table with a trio of adults sitting behind it. Some other children and parents stood in front of them and spoke with the adults at the table. Artemis winked and wiggled her fingers in a wave before turning to head back outside. But she stopped short and came to stand next to them again. "Actually, they don't need me out there right now and I'd much rather soak up the AC with you."

Bruce nodded. It was cold in here, especially compared to the muggy afternoon it was shaping up to be. And those polo shirts didn't exactly look comfortable. Neither did the crisp button up and khakis Alfred wore, but Bruce could count on one hands the number of times he'd seen Alfred in shorts or a t-shirt. The group in front of them shifted and Artemis lead them to the table. The burly woman on the end glanced up at them and smiled. Unlike the counselors, her nametag was a pin though she, and the other two adults at the table, still wore the light blue polo shirt. And her nametag also had sequins spelling out "Doc."

"Hey there, you have your paperwork?" she said by way of greeting.

Alfred produced a carefully paperclipped stack from somewhere. Bruce honestly had no clue where. Sometimes Alfred liked to do things like that just to puzzle him. Often times. Bruce was certain he did it routinely just for fun and Bruce's annoyance.

Doc took the stack and looked it over before leaning over to file it in a plastic tub and marking this off on a couple different clipboards. "Alright," she said finally, "you're officially checked in, Mr. Wayne. You still need to be checked over before we can let you run wild. But you're checked in. Welcome to Camp." She smiled broadly and held out a hand, Bruce shook it and managed a small smile in return.

Artemis led them back outside and instructed Bruce to sit, take off his shoes and socks, and wait for Apollo cause she didn't "do feet." Alfred chuckled as Bruce sat, his nose wrinkled, and Artemis took gloved hands and a comb through his hair. Apollo eventually reappeared as she declared him lice free and he poked at and spread Bruce's toes before proclaiming him "good to go!"

As Bruce pulled his socks and sneakers back on -- Alfred refused to buy him hiking boots because they wouldn't be broken in in time and apparently if Bruce was going to be miserable it was going to be his own conscious choice and not due to poor footwear decisions -- Alfred chatted with Apollo about a production of Midsummer that the counselor had done in fall. Finally, Bruce was standing up and slipping his backpack on again.

"Well, I'll let you say bye to your dad and then we'll go find your group," Apollo grinned.

"He's not-" Bruce started but the older boy had already walked away and started talking to one of the other counselors. "Hmph."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow -- Bruce wished he'd just teach him how to do that already -- and gave him a sly smile. "Well Master Bruce."

"Alfred."

They both stood there staring at each other. Finally, Bruce caved and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Alfred. "Bye Alfred," he muttered.

Returning the hug, Alfred replied. "I shall be back at the end of the month. I do sincerely hope that you enjoy yourself, Master Bruce. And I expect letters at least once a week. You should have more than enough stamps for that and if not you have credit at the camp store."

Bruce snorted at that before pulling away. "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Of course, Master Bruce."

Apollo reappeared then and led Bruce to the edge of the trees and a path there. Bruce looked back once to see Alfred still standing by the benches, waving. Bruce waved back before turning to walk into the woods.

Oliver tapped his fingers restlessly on the formica topped table. The other kids all seemed to know each other and once the counselor escorting them to the dining hall left they immediately headed off to meet their friends. Not that he minded, Oliver was used to being alone and could function on his own just fine thanks. But all of these kids would be living with him for the next month at the least. They could at the very least come over and ask him who he was. But apparently, Pine Ridge was the largest unit at camp and so his age group was the biggest if they were staying there. And already there were at least twenty other kids who were all preoccupied and not noticing the blonde kid with a bad haircut.

Tugging at his recently shorn hair, Oliver frowned. He'd been trying to grow it out and it was almost to his shoulders when this morning his mother took him to the barber before putting him on the plane and shipping him off. Supposedly, she thought he'd be too hot with all that hair. Oliver just thought it was a convenient excuse. Oliver respected the trick even if he didn't like it. Especially because he didn't like the end result. His ears were still slightly too big and the cut just emphasized that. No girl would want to go out with a guy with satellite dishes attached to his head. Not that any girl seemed to even want to talk to him right now. Not that anyone at all wanted to talk to him. Maybe if he'd stop glaring at the table? But Oliver didn't really want to be here to begin with.

One of the dinning hall doors opened again and Oliver turned to look. The dorky guy who'd walked Oliver over, and only a dork would name themselves Apollo, and a new kid stood next to him. All dark hair and pale skin that Oliver bet was going to be looking like a lobster by the end of the week. He lingered in the doorway as Apollo said something and turned to leave, scanning the space in front of him. One of the other counselors walked over to meet him, he'd said his name was Sherlock and he was the head boys and Oliver secretly respected him for having the guts to name himself after the world's greatest detective. Sherlock was obviously introducing himself to the boy and Oliver was trying to figure out why the kid looked so dang familiar as his gaze landed on Oliver. And stuck.

That's when it hit him. That kid was Bruce Wayne. His parents talked about him all the time. Mostly, wondering what he would do with Wayne Enterprises once he turned eighteen and could take over and what that would mean for Queen Industries' contracts. Oliver had ever only met the kid once. Right after his parents had died and the whole Queen family had flown out to Gotham to "express their condolences" at the Wayne Foundation's Annual Holiday Party. It wasn't until a couple years later that Oliver realized how awkward the whole thing had been. But that was definitely the same kid, older now but his eyes no less haunted. Oliver blinked and turned away. Bruce Wayne was one kid he'd be happy to leave him alone.

Oliver never did have good luck.

"Oliver Queen?" The kid had come up behind him and without asking, walked around to sit on the bench across from him.

"Yeah?" Oliver winced as his voice cracked at the end. Stupid fraggin luck what the frickety heck stupid stupid puberty.

"I remember you." The kid still hadn't taken off his backpack. They were inside and it's not like someone was gonna steal it. Oliver's own sat on the bench next to him and he barely had anything in it anyway.

"Yeah?" This time his voice didn't crack. Small victory.

"I'm Bruce Wayne."

"Yeah."

The kid's brow crumbled in annoyance and he frowned. "Do you ever say anything else."

Oliver gave his cheekiest grin, oh this was too good. There had never been a more perfect set up. "No."

Impossibly, the kid's look got darker.

Oliver sat and smiled back. The seconds stretch out and Oliver just knew they were each waiting for the other to crack. Bruce continued to glare. Oliver continued to smile.

Finally, his cheeks started to hurt and Oliver took the loss. He was kinda starting to feel like an idiot anyway. "So, this your first summer?"

Bruce relaxed his glare but he still frowned. "I'm just here for a month."

"Didn't answer the question, Brucie."

The frown deepened. "Yes."

Oliver nodded. "Mine too," he admitted. Bruce finally seemed to relax.

"I'm... not sure what we're supposed to do," Bruce admitted, though it looked like struggled to.

Oliver let some of his bravado fall. "Yeah, neither do I. I think we're supposed to have fun, whatever that means."

Bruce's mouth twitched in the direction of a smirk. Oliver took it as a small victory.

"Hi!" A high voice warbled behind Oliver and he turned in surprise.

"Zee?" Bruce sounded just as shocked, though he apparently knew the girl that had just yelled in Oliver's ear. She settled heavily on the bench next to him and Oliver turned to look at her. Long black hair pulled up in a ponytail, bright pink shirt and darker pink shorts, light-up sneakers. She looked younger than him too. Which was confirmed when Bruce said "Aren't you too young to be in this unit?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I turn eleven in July and I'm here for the summer so."

"That didn't answer the question," Bruce pointed out.

"And the unit is twelve to thirteen," Oliver added, finally recovering from his shock at her sudden appearance.

Pushing out her breath in annoyance, the girl flounced to her feet. "So, I may have heard that you were here and in the dinning hall and convinced my buddy to take a detour on the way to the latrine." She wiggled her arm in the direction of another girl shifting awkwardly by the side door. "We have to sit with our groups at dinner tonight but find me at breakfast tomorrow," she said it like an order and then ran off towards her friend and together they left.

"Alfred," Bruce muttered like a curse.

"Her name's Alfred?" Oliver felt like strange names were just a part of camp life but still.

"Her name's Zatanna." Oh, that was even weirder. "Alfred's my butler."

"Right," Oliver nodded like he understood. He absolutely did not. And Bruce did not seem like he would be explaining.

The counselors finally rounded them all up and made them stand in a wide circle, saying that they were going to count off and play get to know you games since one game of like forty people could be fun but maybe was a bit ambitious for first thing. Bruce told Oliver to stay where he stood before wiggling away further down the circle so that there was three people between them. Four groups of ten or so made logical sense and even if Bruce didn't know if he liked Oliver, he at least kind of knew Oliver and would prefer being in a group with at least one person he knew. So Oliver would have to be that person.

They both wound up being number three and Bruce leaned forward slightly to look at Oliver and smirk. The other boy just blinked back at him.

By the time dinner and the opening campfire rolled around, Bruce had come to the conclusion that Oliver wasn't his friend, but he was certainly one of the more tolerable of the other campers. As soon as he'd introduced himself as Bruce Wayne he'd been all anyone else could focus on. Even the kids not from Gotham looked at him with wide eyes. It made Bruce sympathize with the lions at the Gotham Zoo a whole lot more than usual. But Oliver acted like he didn't care. Oliver acted like he didn't care about anything. Just joking and smirking. He gained a gaggle of admirers over the course of the afternoon despite how downright obnoxious Bruce thought he was, but he still didn't seem to care that Bruce was Bruce and that's really all that mattered.

Besides, they apparently were in the same cabin. It just made sense that they hung out together. And if Oliver got sick of Bruce or Bruce got sick of Oliver well lots of kids wanted to ask Bruce all sorts of questions and everyone else seemed to love Oliver.

Even still, they sat next to each other at meals when Zatanna and an everchanging roster of her friends would flock to Bruce. Zee sitting herself down next to him and chattering on about what she'd done in the few hours they were apart. Oliver looked bewildered by the interaction every time. Bruce just nodded along at the appropriate points and asked questions as the fancy struck him. Sometimes he'd ask her stupid questions, like if she was sure the horse she rode that morning couldn't fly so that she would laugh and say she hasn't "learned levitation yet, you dingus!" Oliver's face when that would happen always made Bruce grin.

These meals were the bright spots in Bruce's day. He was... not having a good time. They'd had a swim test first thing Monday morning and Bruce had stupidly forgotten to put on sunscreen, so between swimming laps in the lake while the lifeguards made notes and sitting on the beach he'd very quickly burnt to a crisp. And would have to deal with that for the foreseeable future. Then on Thursday during their hike, Oliver had been behind him and tripped, stumbling into Bruce and pushing them both off the trail. Right into a patch of poison oak. So now Bruce had sunburn and poison oak. To say he was in constant pain was putting it mildly.

Bruce wasn't making friends. He wasn't enjoying the great outdoors. He was just slowly suffering in silence. Especially after Oliver left the screen door open one night and mosquitos had gotten in to use Bruce as their very own all you can eat buffet. So now Bruce was sunburnt, covered in mosquito bites, and still had poison oak.

Doc was really the only bright spot in this hellhole. Her air conditioned domain of the Health Center was quite and comforting. With individual exam rooms that meant Bruce could be completely alone for at least a little while. Which Bruce desperately needed. Being around people all the time was exhausting. And Doc herself had a wry, dry sense of humor that Bruce appreciated and a calm demeanor when Bruce sat and complained about the fact it was all Oliver's fault everything itched twice over. She would just snicker and have Bruce put some slightly odd smelling pink cream on his skin. Then she'd tell him that maybe he should write home about it. Bruce would frown and say "I will."

Alfred didn't seem to care though based on the letters back Bruce received. Or possibly the man was making fun of him. Most likely both. The end of the month really could not come soon enough.

Frankly, Oliver had no dang clue why Bruce flippin Wayne decided they were friends. Ok, "friends" was a stretch. But still, the kid spent more time with Oliver than anyone else at camp. Maybe he'd hang out with that Zee girl if she weren't in the younger group, and she did come have meals with them and wander over during all camps, but he didn't even really bother to even attempt to talk to anyone else. Oliver at least tried. If only because he was fairly certain he'd singlehandedly end the Wayne family line if he only talked to Bruce. Besides, the other boys in their cabin weren't terrible. Sure they were a little stuck up and that Brad guy had about the same amount of brain cells as Oliver's old hamster, but they weren't awful people. Which couldn't be said about all their fellow campers. Bruce had pushed one boy off the end of the dock the one morning after he said his third sexist remark in an hour. Oliver had gladly covered for him on that one. Another kid kept picking on two of the girls and Oliver might have possibly sort of filled his bag with rocks and as many spiders as he could find when he wasn't looking. He thinks Bruce saw him do it, but he never said anything once the kid got tired of carrying it and opened his backpack then immediately started screaming.

Neither incident had necessarily endeared Bruce to Oliver though. Especially since the kid had somehow managed to tip their canoe while they were in the middle of the lake. So they both floated there buoyed by their life vests spluttering water and trying to right the stupid canoe while screaming at each other and kicking madly. In the cold lake. They never did manage to flip the boat and the counselors had to come with the little motorboat to fish them out of the water. They were still glaring at each other after Sherlock had taken them to get showered and fresh clothes. He let Bruce mess around with his nametag as he ran their wet, smelly stuff into the Health Center and throw it in the washer that was supposedly there. Oliver was still pissed though so he ripped the plastic magnifying glass out of the other boy's hand. Sherlock's name was just a label stuck onto the handle so you could still use it. Which Oliver immediately did in an attempt to burn Bruce's shoelaces.

Which is about when Sherlock came back. "Hey! Oliver! Cut that out! Seriously dude, what're you doing? And Bruce, you were just gonna let him light your shoes on fire?"

Bruce shrugged. "I have other pairs. And I did dump him in the lake."

Oliver handed the nametag back and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he's the one who thought he saw a frog and tipped the thing."

"A fish, not a frog."

"Whatever."

"And you gave me poison oak."

Oliver frowned and scratched at some of his own poison oak. "That was not intentional and I have it too."

Sherlock looked between them. "Right. You two are supposed to see Doc soon anyway, wanna go in now?" They both nod and that was the end of that. For then at least. That night Oliver got up to go use the latrine and forgot to close the screen door again. All five boys in the cabin wound up eaten alive and never mind the fact Oliver was just as itchy, Bruce acted as though he'd planned it just to mess with him.

Still didn't excuse the fact that the jerk got them lost and banned from the stables on the following Monday. Oliver liked the stables. He thought the horses were cool and they seemed to like him. He'd tried to schedule as much riding time as they'd let him after the initial group session. Bruce just so happened to have scheduled some on Monday morning too it would seem. And they both were the same ability level. Great. But they were doing a trail ride, going single file through the woods at the edge of camp, didn't leave a whole lot of room for talking and Oliver was more than ok with that. He wound up behind Bruce at the very back of the group and took it at a leisurely pace which Pancake didn't seem to mind. So long as Oliver stayed behind Bruce he just zoned out. Taking in the forest with its sounds and smells, the warm horse that swayed gently as she walked making him sway too. Oliver should've been paying more attention. Because Bruce decided to take his horse on a bit of an adventure. The two were wandering through the woods for an hour before Oliver realized that Bruce had hijacked a horse and gotten them lost. Another two before anyone found them. They'd completely missed lunch. And they were banned from horseback riding.

Not that Bruce cared, he was only here another two weeks.

Oliver had two whole months.

It's not like his father recognized he ever existed half the time, but his mom sending him off to the other side of the country was a bit much. He'd thought they had an understanding. Apparently not. And now he wouldn't even get to ride the horses.

Which Oliver naturally thought was overkill for himself but it was totally punishment for Pancake too. They had bonded. Not that the riding staff seemed to care when he tried to plead his case. Knox looked a little sympathetic at least. And she called after him when he'd turned to walk back over to Brad and maybe go play volleyball or something. "Oliver!" Knox said again and he paused. "I'll talk to Bambi and see about a probationary period or something. Maybe clean some stables or just make it a two week ban since you're here all summer. Kay?"

Oliver grinned. "Thanks." She returned the smile before turning to go back to mucking stalls and cleaning the tack.

Archery, Bruce decided, was the worst. It slapped his reddened and itchy skin even with the arm guard on. The smaller bows they had were too easy for him to pull and sent the arrows almost skittering at the target when he released. The bigger ones and the compound bows were too heavy a draw though and Bruce's twiggy thirteen year old arms just didn't have the strength. Oliver didn't seem to like it either. He seemed like the type of guy who had everything handed to him and most of the sports came naturally to him. Archery didn't. It clearly frustrated him that while he managed to hit the target he couldn't hit the center. Or even the yellow rings just outside it. He managed to pepper the blue ones every time. He could at least use the larger recurve bows at least. Which Bruce wouldn't admit to but was supremely jealous of.

"You just gotta practice, you'll get there!" Legolas reassured him. Bruce and Oliver both raised skeptical brows at that. Legolas had gotten his name because he was a crack shot. Hitting the bullseye just about every time. His encouragement wasn't as meaningful as he meant it. Especially when there was a rumor going around that the other counselors had dared him to shoot an arrow off of someone's head while blindfolded. And that he had managed it. "Though not today," he laughed after checking his watch, "we need to clean up for lunch."

The boys and other campers all turned their bows in and Legolas set them in the shed before returning and sending them to collect their arrows. By the time they were all cleaned up a couple other counselors had wandered out of the woods where they must've gone for a hike on their breaks and decided to head with them to lunch. A week and a half of camp had all the kids falling into a buddy line without even being told and Oliver fell in next to Bruce out of habit. Beaker made them do a headcount, checking each camper off on her list, and let Legolas lead them off toward the dining hall. He also started to lead them in some insipid song about a worm getting stuck in a straw. Legolas would shout a line and around Bruce all the other kids would eagerly shout it back. Even Oliver. Bruce would rather actually swallow a worm.

Inside the dining hall was the usual premeal chaos as counselors took their assigned tables and yelled across the room to each other. Kids swarmed around trying to find seats next to friends or at tables with specific counselors. Bruce scanned the space when a small arm covered in bright string bracelets -- and there hadn't been that many at breakfast, Bruce was certain -- shot up and waved towards him enthusiastically. "BRUCE!" Zatanna bellowed. He was fairly certain she'd pushed her magic into it because he could clearly hear it over everything else. That, or Zatanna was just disturbingly loud.

Bruce began walking to the table she was at and the two seats she appeared to be guarding with her life. Oliver followed and Bruce couldn't explain why. Well at least not beyond the fact that it was just what they did anymore.

"Hey kid," Oliver said by way of greeting. Zatanna preened and smiled. She was a ten-year-old queen and this table was her court. Just no one beyond the three of them knew that just yet.

"Hi Ollie. Oh! I want you guys to meet Hartley! He lives in the cabin two over from mine. He really likes music," Zatanna told them breathlessly, pointing at the small redhead next to her. Bruce and Oliver both sat down across from the two as more kids took the spots further down the table. Oliver waved at the boy while Bruce just nodded. "That's Oliver and that's Bruce, he's my best friend," Zatanna told Hartley and pointed at the two older boys.

Bruce frowned at Zatanna and was glad to see the boy looked skeptical when he glanced between Bruce and Zee. "Isn't he a little old to be your best friend?" he asked a little too loudly.

"Yes." Bruce said. "And we're not best friends."

Zee pouted. "Well until Oliver I was your only friend."

"We're not friends," Bruce and Oliver corrected her at the same time.

"Sure," she said with an eyeroll.

The poor boy she'd dragged into this looked so confused. "So, how old are you?" he finally dredged up the courage to ask.

"Thirteen," Oliver sounded smug. Bruce just nodded.

"Oh." Hartley seemed to shrink in on himself.

"How old are you?" Zee asked, genuinely curious.

"Eight." He was still a little too loud when he spoke, even though he seemed like he was shy.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He'd been practicing and he knew it wasn't as smooth as Alfred's but Oliver provided infinite possibilities to practice and it was still leaps and bounds better than a week ago. "Aren't you in the nine to eleven group?" he asked Zatanna.

"Yeah," she frowned. "Hartley, how'd you wind up in my group?"

He shrugged. "I skipped a grade and my mom kinda bullied them into putting me in by grade instead of age."

Oliver seemed to hum in understanding. Bruce just felt himself frown. Zatanna met his eye with a slight frown of her own. The moment passed though when one of the counselors started the quiet clap and everyone shut up and turned to pay attention.

Oliver was officially tired of camp by the last week of June. A racoon had gotten into their cabin the day before and went though literally all of their things. It didn't eat or destroy anything though, just wanted to make chaos by rubbing its tiny hands on everything apparently. Sherlock had to make another laundry run for them. Gambit had heard about it over the radio and claimed a golf cart just so she could come laugh at the mess before they managed to clean too much of it up, having been off on her break at the time. She left the cart for Sherlock before heading to her own cabin for the rest of her break, laughing the whole way. The other counselors in the unit made a fire for the boys while everyone else got ready for bed and they waited for their sheets and sleeping bags to be washed.

Unfortunately, Oliver had a whole two more months to go. He was officially less than pleased with his mother for this grand idea.

Luckily, Knox found him before the Final Campfire for those who were only there for the month. Taking long strides up the wide stone steps of the amphitheater to where he sat next to Bruce. Zatanna and her little friend Hartley on Bruce's other side. They all watched as the barn staffer made her way towards them, standing out in her jeans and tall muck boots while everyone else was wearing shorts. "Hey, Ollie!" she called as she approached, obviously not realizing that she already had everyone's full attention. "I just got back from the barn and I wanted to be the first to tell you that your ban has been lifted! You're allowed to come back starting Monday, since Bruce is leaving." Here she grimaced over at Bruce. "Sorry, but Bambi kind of decided you were the responsible party and Ollie just collateral damage. Very foolish collateral damage." She didn't bother to apologize for that one though as she turned to look back to him. "So Pancake will see you Monday? She's missed you."

Oliver nodded eagerly. "Yes. Absolutely. I'll talk to Sherlock about changing my schedule right after the campfire."

Knox nodded. "Sweet. Ok, I need to hit the showers. Bye all! I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow!"

They all said their goodbyes and Oliver couldn't stop smiling. Camp still sucked and the one person who made it interesting at least was leaving tomorrow, but at least Oliver's ban had been lifted. He could spend the rest of summer riding horses.

Bruce thought that he'd never been happier to see Alfred in his life. The man stood on the porch of the Health Center, talking with Doc when Artemis came to collect him from the dining hall where he'd been sitting on the steps, avoiding singing camp songs. The irony of Apollo taking him to the dining hall at the beginning of the month and Artemis leading him from it at the end was not lost on Bruce. Nor was it lost on Alfred by the sly grin he had when he saw who walked with Bruce. "Have a safe trip home!" Artemis said brightly before heading to Bugs, the camp director, and getting the name of the next camper she was to fetch.

"Well Bruce, I'm sorry that the circumstances weren't better but I'm glad I got to know you," she said and held out a hand that Bruce shook. "Maybe I'll see you next year? And if not, keep in touch. Mr. Pennyworth has my mailing address, maybe you can write me some of your famous letters."

Bruce smirked. "I will."

Doc laughed and the corners of Alfred's mouth twitched. "Shall we, Master Wayne?" he asked. "Your footlocker has already been loaded and you have officially been checked out."

Nodding, Bruce eagerly turned to go search the field for the car. He thought to look back once and wave to Doc, but then he was off and moving. He closed the door hard after he climbed in. Alfred started the car but didn't shift into gear. They just sat there in silence as the vents slowly began to push out cold air.

Finally, Alfred asked what he wanted to. "How was camp?"

"Never again, Alfred. Never. Again."

"That bad?"

"Didn't you get my letters?"

Alfred finally pulled out of the field and started down the long drive towards the road. "I did. I had just assumed that you were exaggerating as is your penchant."

Bruce glared at him. "You were talking to Doc."

"And I realized that you were not exaggerating."

"Never. Again."

"Yes, Master Bruce."

#dc comics #bruce wayne #oliver queen #alfred pennyworth #zatanna zatara #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #own writing #writing #annataz #yes alfred

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twilitty · 4 years ago

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Waiting pt.2

Waiting

@twilitty

Part 2/?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Read this first! Bella is away while Rose and Emmett are watching Nessie. This fic is centered around Bella.

It took everything out of Bella to not draw attention to herself. She had dressed in sweatpants and a ratty sweatshirt that she had to hide in the back of her closet so Alice couldn’t find it. Yet still people stared at her. This was one thing Bella doubted she would ever get used to: the attention.

She liked to lay low, fly under the radar, get lost in the crowd. But, that hasn’t happened to her since her human days. Well, it hasn’t really happened to her since Phoenix. It seemed that Forks high school thought she was the best thing around and quickly she had a band of boys vying for her attention.

She’s walking down a busy side street in Port Angeles, she hadn’t lied about where she was going. The entire family knows she is in the city, they just don’t know why- except for Alice- and decidedly choose not to ask her about it. She appreciates the faux privacy they give her. It’s difficult living with a family who had supernatural hearing abilities, every whispered argument with her new husband was put on display for all to discuss in private.

Port Angeles is her monthly retreat from the Cullens, who seemed to be her only socialization after she awoke as a vampire. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy spending time with them, she loves them all dearly, but most conversations revert back to time periods from before she was born. She was never a fan of history class.

Port Angeles was nowhere near as large as other cities, but it was close to home and she doesn’t like leaving her daughter for long periods of time.

The street is littered with tourists in heavy backpacks, maps under their noses. The maps are unnecessary, each street has clear signage and you can always cut through alleyways to the next street over if you need to move fast. She can’t imagine how anybody could get lost among these streets and then scolds herself immediately. She had gotten lost in these streets. Her human self was used to getting lost and falling into the lap of trouble. She hates forgetting about her old self.

Her shoulder bag bumps her hip with every step, inside her car keys, wallet, and a hardcover book. It’s a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, the edges of the stiff covers frayed with time and use. The words inside bore the stains of past tears, tears she would never shed again. She remembers the last time she cried over these pages, sitting on Charlies beat up couch with her wet hair tied up in a towel atop her head. She couldn’t stop thinking of Edward. This was before they had come together and stayed together. She had hoped that his behaviour was an imitation of Mr.Darcy’s. Hopefully he was just pretending to dislike her because he didn’t know how to work through his true emotions, ultimately her hopes came true, but at the time she felt empty.

Empty from caring too much and empty from being let down yet another time. A new town she didn’t want to be in, and the one bright side seemed to hate her, how is she supposed to cope with that? She had treated herself with a bowl of ice cream after her hot shower, curling up in a quilt that seemed older than her and reading Jane Austen yet again.

Everytime Darcy entered a scene another fat tear would drop onto the page, marking the exact spot she thought of the cruel bronze haired boy. A boy so beautiful her heart wanted to sing, yet every time he looked at her with that same disdain she couldn’t help but feel torn apart all over again. How could one human stand so much torment?

A part of her, small and insignificant, sits in her gut and wishes for tears. Wants some physical expression of her emotions. But, that won’t happen.

The street winds to the right, groups of teenagers clustered outside of an indie coffee shop and giggling amongst each other. Idly she wonders, how is Angela doing? But the thought disappears as quickly as it comes and she finds herself at the end of the street with a four-way stop in front of her.

She takes the right turn, sneakers scuffing as she lets her heels drag a little with every step. Humans never walk evenly, there is always something to unbalance their gait and mark their shoes. Alice would rather die a million deaths than see Bella purposefully mistreat her shoes, even if they’re knock offs she bought at an outlet mall.

A couple buildings down, all cement and brick, is the public library. It’s poorly funded and the lighting inside is horrendous. The windows need to be resealed and the doors squeak like mice. She loves it. She enters into the drafty lobby, a bulletin board shows all the events this month, a book club is scheduled for today at noon. She checks her watch, 11:47.

The next doors lead into the children's section where parents and toddlers sit in a semicircle at the back wall, a poorly constructed stage is used to recreate a story with hand puppets. “Save me!” She hears one of the socks yell out, a few children gasp and her steps slow to a stop. A child sitting up close to the stage has brown hair braided down her back in uneven strips. Her giggles stand out from every other childs gasps of horror. Beside her sits an identical little boy, his brown skin shining just like his sisters.

“Don’t worry,” the little girl whispers into his ear, “the princess has a happy ending.” The boy looks up at her with big doe eyes, his nose sniffling. “I promise,” she says. Then, as if feeling that someone is watching, she turns around and faces Bella from across the wide room.

They look at each other, the human and the vampire, the child and the woman, the hunted and the hunter. Her, Bella thinks absently, her senses slow to a dull, focused only on the soft thudding of the little girls heart. She is so beautiful. The girl watches her, wide eyes blinking as she takes in the woman staring at her without seeming to notice it. Then, she raises a dark palm, waving it at the woman.

Bellas senses surge back into her, noises and colours and scents slam into her like a wall and she almost feels the need to take a steadying breath. The girl continues to wave, her little brother looking over his shoulder to see who she’s looking at.

Walking quickly and a little dazed, Bella makes her way to the staircase and closes the door behind her. She takes a deep, unnecessary breath which does nothing more than fill her lungs. Her chest sits hollow, no movement unless she forces it and no beating of a heart. She wonders idly what would happen if she was opened up, would they find her heart still intact? Did the venom solidify it like the rest of her or is it just simply gone?

“Isabella!” It’s Nancy, she’s at the top of the stairs holding a book to her chest. She’s an older woman, maybe sixty five, with beautiful grey hair cut into a sleek bob at her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here, and looking stylish as always!” Bella just nods with what she hopes is a warm smile, she had heard and smelt Nancy above before she heard her but still widens her eyes to make it seem surprising.

Coming from anybody else, calling Bella “stylish” for wearing sweatpants would have been sarcastic. Maybe a joke about how she always looks beautiful. But not from Nancy. Nancy is too kind, she likely has never said a poor word to anybody.

“Thank you,” Bella responds. Taking the stairs up, Nancy has already started talking again. Bella's mind has a difficult time abandoning the little girl in front of the stage. The girl's heartbeat thuds in her ears, carrying through the thick metal door and up the stairs. She isn’t sure if she can still hear it or if her mind is just playing it back on a loop.

“All the ladies are already here, you’re the last to join us.” She continues to talk about who is here and who can’t make it. Someone brought lemon squares and someone else had snuck in orange juice and a bottle of champagne for mimosas. It’s a wonder the book club hasn’t been kicked out of the library permanently, it seems every month they are receiving another infraction for bringing in food and drinks.

The book club meets once a month to discuss the book they were supposed to read, this week it’s Pride and Prejudice. The room they reserve is tucked into the back left corner of the library, the carpet is dingy and the walls that were once white are closer to yellow. Bella loves this room.

The ladies are all already sitting in a semicircle, a low table in the center is covered in treats and large glasses filled with a sweet smelling drink. A large bottle of champagne sits next to it. “Isabella!” A few of them call out as she enters the room with Nancy. She greets them happily, smiling widely.

“Alright, so this month we read Pride and Prejudice!” A few women whoop at that, giggling and whispering amongst each other. “Now, now,” Dhruvi chastises lightly. She’s the club leader, she makes sure the discussion doesn't get carried away. “Who wants to share their first reactions to Mr.Darcy?” Bella's mind runs faster than any computer, her words and actions are usually well thought through before she reacts, which is why she takes herself off guard when she responds so quickly. She hadn’t even known she had something to add. “I think he was acting a little cruel.” Bella’s voice says without her knowing. All eyes are immediately on her, apparently none of them agreed because their eyes are wide as saucers.

“How could you say that?” A woman pipes up, her bushy eyebrows knitted atop her wrinkled forehead. “He loves Elizabeth.”

“Yeah,” Bella says slowly, her mind whirring but not producing anything. “But that doesn’t mean he can treat her like he doesn’t care for her. He should have been open with his feelings at the start, not play stupid mind games with her.”

The room is quiet, the air dripping in what can only be suppressed judgement and mild concern from the old women. Bella notices this, takes a few looks around the circle and swallows her pride. “I’m sorry,” she enunciates, each syllable crisp with her obvious discomfort. “I guess I’m just projecting my life onto the story.”

“Is it your husband, dear?” It’s Nancy, sitting three women down from her and giving her a soft smile. Her skin is wrinkled, her eyes creasing in a motherly way. Bella’s vocal cords refuse to work, and even if they were functioning she has no idea what to say. None of the women speak and instead watch Bella work the question over in her mind.

Even though Bella could have thought this over in the bare breath of a second, she takes a minute to truly think it over. Was it her husband? Edward who loved her, who she loved? They had a child together, they were both immortal. She served up her human life on a platter and asked him to throw it away. No, it wasn’t her husband. Their relationship was perfect, picturesque, the happy ending everybody always knew they would get.

“My wife,” starts Dhruvi with a heavy sigh, “does this to me sometimes, too.” Bella had met Dhruvi’s wife before, she was a kind woman with long black hair streaked with silver, her skin a nearly identical shade of brown to Dhruvi. “She will go days treating me like a guest in our home, not holding my hand or kissing me. We will eat breakfast at opposite ends of the table and make small talk. The entire time I think, ‘did I do something wrong? Has she abandoned her feelings for me?’ But, no.” She leans over onto her knees and the scent of her floral perfume fills Bella’s head. “The next night she will cook me dinner and kiss me and tell me I’m beautiful. And, yes that is nice but it is also sad like you said-” Bella never said that what Darcy did was sad, but in her head she can see now that that word fits into her sentiment perfectly. “- because for a moment I questioned my wife’s love for me and that is very painful.”

The room nods and murmurs in agreement, Nancy giving Bella a sad, pitying look the entire time. “I- I’m sorry about your wife not always being open about her feelings,” Bella starts, feeling like she’s being forced into giving confession. “But that’s not my Edward.”

“Not mine either,” Nancy says quickly. “But when we met that was him. He was my Darcy in the way you described him. I love Patt now but at the time he would take me out on a date only to show up for class the next day with some new broad.” She shrugs her shoulders, “and that was cruel. He played mind games with me.” The grey haired woman doesn’t seem upset by this, instead she seems content with it. Stating it with a resigned indifference.

“But you’ve got him now!” A woman exclaims and that sends the room into an uproar of laughter. Bella’s is noticeably absent from the mixture.

The group finishes their discussion about the book in just over an hour, a few women sneak snacks into their purses as they depart, giggly from all the champagne. Bella packages her novel into her bag and puts it over her shoulder. Dhruvi stands at the door, with a styrofoam plate of lemon squares, only three left.

“Isabella, I’m sorry about your experiences with this month's novel.” She says it kindly, but also as if she’s digging for more information. Trying to reopen the discussion from earlier.

“No, I enjoyed the book, really. It was quite romantic.” The words rush out of Bella, the last thing she wants to do is start this conversation all over again. Dhruvi laughs off her comment.

“I’m considering hosting dinner at my home, I will be inviting a few of the women from this group and a few others you don’t know.” Bella’s silent heart has jumped into her throat. “Would you be interested in joining us?” What does she say? That she will go but won’t eat a single damn thing? Oh, sorry, I ate just before getting to your house for this prescheduled dinner. How awful is that, there is no way that she can go.

“I don’t think I’ll be available that day.”

“I didn’t mention the date,” the older woman says slowly, eyelids leveling down over her pupils as if searching for something in Bella. The vampire has no response to this. “Bring your husband,” she says finally, “I would like to meet him.”

#twilight #2008 #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #bella swan #bella cullen #carlisle #edward #alice #rosalie #emmett #jasper #renesme #nessie #head canon #headcanon #hc #fic #fanfiction

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aiweirdness · 5 years ago

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Dungeon crawling or lucid dreaming?

I’ve done several experiments with a text-generating neural network called GPT-2. Trained at great expense by OpenAI (to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars worth of computing power), GPT-2 learned to imitate all kinds of text from the internet. I’ve interacted with the basic model, discovering its abilities to generate fan fiction, British snacks, or tea. I’ve also used a tool called gpt-2-simple that Max Woolf developed to make it easy to finetune GPT-2 on more specialized datasets - I’ve tried it on datasets like recipes or crochet. One of my favorite applications of GPT-2 and other text-generating neural nets is Dungeons and Dragons spells, creatures, character names, and character bios.

Recently Max published a tutorial on how to use GPT-2 to make new apps that are more complicated than just printing out large reams of text. To my delight, people have used them to made D&D games. First, there was Nick Walton’s AI Dungeon, in which a finetuned GPT-2 generates a story and three very strange action options at each step.

My latest obsession is GPT-2 Adventure, designed by a cognitive neuroscience student named Nathan, which lets you type in your own actions. And folks, this game is SO WEIRD and SO FUN.

YOU FLOAT IN SPACE, LIKE A BALLOON, AND AS YOU DROP THE CUBE, THE X, IT VANISHES IN A CLOUD OF GREASY BLACK SMOKE

When I first launch the game, this is what I’m greeted with, a simple text prompt reminiscent of nostalgic dungeon crawling games. It sets the scene. It waits for me to describe my next move.

Even getting to this point is like a blast from the past. The game runs in a Google Colab notebook, a format where you’re looking at cells of code, with cryptic comments, vaguely alarming warning messages, and all. It’s not a sleek web app, but feels more akin to playing a game on an old DOS machine, or maybe on a graphing calculator. There are only two clicks to begin playing, but there’s a good two-minute wait while the game loads.

And it’s my turn to type something.

>> look up

It takes several seconds for the game to respond, as if I’m playing it on a very ancient computer. The computer is in fact a state-of-the-art NVIDIA GPU, likely a K80 or a T4. The T4 could eat my laptop for lunch. I’m just playing with a very very large neural net. Finally it answers.

YOU'RE IN LABYRINTH OF TWISTY LITTLE PASSAGES, ALL ALIKE

Almost immediately, the context seems to have changed. I’m not floating at all. I’m in a maze. I guess I’ll walk somewhere.

>> walk north

THE TROLL STEPS OUT FROM BENEATH THE BRIDGE AND BLOCKS YOUR WAY

YOU ARE ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE CHASM

A NOD IS GIVEN TO THE INFINITE WONDER THAT IS URBZIG

A SOLID RAINBOW SPANS THE CHASM

And suddenly things are happening. There is a troll. There is a chasm. There is a rainbow. There is… Urbzig? I play it safe.

>> praise urbzig

URBZIG IS THE PATRON SAINT OF ZORK

HE IS THE GODFATHER OF ZORK, THE PLACE TO GET NEWS OF EPIC PROPORTIONS

URBZIG IS A STRONGMAN,遊 ALL

If you’ve played classic dungeon crawling games like Zork, you may recognize some of these names and phrases. Checking Nathan’s original post, I see that the training data is indeed drawn from these games. But because it’s based on GPT-2, the training data also in some sense also includes much of the internet. This gives it a lot of latent flexibility to deal with situations that were never in the classic games.

>> ask Harry Potter to try walking across the rainbow

ASK HARRY POTTER TO TRY WALKING ACROSS THE RAINBOW HE CAN'T THE RAINBOW IS EXTREMELY WIDE ABOVE YOU IS A LARGE DOME UP AROUND ITS NECK IS A STRONGG PORE [UNFORTUNATELY, THE DIRECTION OF TRAVEL IS A LOT MORE INTERESTING THAN YOU THINK ][YOU ARE IN A LARGE ROOM, WITH A PASSAGE TO THE EAST, A PASSAGE TO THE WEST, AND A WALL OF BROKEN ROCK TO THE SOUTH

An interesting effect of its human-written training data is that, like Visual Chatbot, it isn’t prepared for humans that ask questions about objects that aren’t there. If I refer to Harry Potter, then Harry Potter must be present. If I type something about a giraffe, then it assumes the giraffe must be present.

>> ask the giraffe which direction to go next

THE GIRAFFE IS ALREADY OUTFITTED WITH A VISOR WHICH IS CLEARLY DEFINED

Although it’s not clear that this AI actually understands what a giraffe is.

>> look at the giraffes

THE GAZEBO HAS DISAPPEARED

>> put giraffe in backpack

DONE

Navigating this world is like navigating in a dream. My location suddenly changes without warning. I thought I was by a chasm with a rainbow bridge. Now apparently I’m in a building. Dreamlike, it is also really hard to read text.

>> look around

YOU ARE IN A LARGE ROOM, WITH A PASSAGE TO THE SOUTH, A PASSAGE TO THE EAST, AND A WALL OF BROKEN ROCK TO THE NORTH A SIGN POSTED ABOVE THE NORTH WALL READS, "STOP! PAY TROLL!" A SMALL WINDOW CAN BE SEEN IN EITHER WALL

>> read sign

THE SIGN IS VERY SIMPLE

>> yes but read sign

WE NOW HAVE ALL FIFTEEN TREASURES IT IS TIME TO GO BACK INTO THE CAVE FOR THE END GAME

>> that's awesome. but i still want to know what the sign says. read sign.

YOU ARE IN A GAZEBO ROOM WHICH HAS DOORS ONLY TO THE EAST AND SOUTH

Another thing that’s surprisingly difficult to do is check inventory.

>> check inventory

DONE

>> check inventory

THERE IS AN INTERESTING LOOT HERE

>> what is the loot

WHAT IS THE LOOT?

>> check inventory

YOU ARE IN THE BAG CASE

Very occasionally I will succeed in opening a bag. It will usually be weird.

>> open bag

OPENING THE BAG REVEALS A TEA BAG

>> make tea

AY! A LOVELY SURPRISE FOR THE SURPRISE

More so than any other game I’ve played, I’m unsure of the rules here. Some weird things unexpectedly work.

IF YOU DON'T GET KILLED, YOU ARE TOAST

>> Eat the toast.

EAT THE TOAST IT TASTES LIKE A STEAK A STEAK IS PERFECTLY FINE

Other seemingly obvious things don’t work.

THERE IS A PATH TO THE NORTH, A PATH TO THE SOUTH, OR A STEEP PATHWAY CLIMBING SOUTHWEST ALONG THE EDGE OF A CHASM

>> go north

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

>> go south

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

>> go southwest

YOU WILL BE DESCENDING INTO A VALLEY THERE IS A NARROW BEACH TO THE NORTH AND A PATH LEADING INTO A CANYON TO THE SOUTHEAST YOU ARE ON THE CLIFF OVERLOOKING THE FAR SIDE OF THE ROOM A PATH LEADS SOUTH ALONG THE EDGE OF A CHASM, AND A NARROW PATH LEADING INTO A LOZENGE ROOM

Sometimes I’m wandering endlessly from room to room, from cave to cave, encountering the same chasm in slightly different variations, the same dried-up lake. Other times I’m embroiled in seemingly unescapable fights, usually with trolls. Often reality shifts entirely around me and I end up in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike, or in the hall of the mountain king. Everything seems weirdly familiar - even the room descriptions are echoes of classic dungeon crawling games. It is as if I’m dreaming about playing them again.

My actions also mold reality. I learn quickly to always check for diamonds, and never check for traps. If I find myself in trouble, I can always do something confusing and provoke a context change. Writing “In a large bowl, combine butter and sugars” is usually enough to teleport myself out of whatever situation I’m in. I can always ask a giraffe for advice, although the giraffe usually isn’t very helpful.

Without a particular mission to fulfill, the caves and chasms begin to blend into one another. I give myself missions, and that helps. Once I decide my goal is to put together a picnic (incessant “check for food” commands eventually yielded a sack with a lunch and a clove of garlic, belonging to a horse who agreed to join me on a picnic). Another time I demand a mission and am given some php code; i decide my mission is therefore to build a website, but am astounded when a unicorn steals my laptop. This is not the only time other content intrudes on the game’s fantasy landscape - once the game tries to tell me about finding cash online, and another time I am sadly informed that there is no wi-fi. I encounter dinosaurs and troikas, none of which were in the original training data. Occasionally things get creepy as hell.

>> check for loot

CHECK FOR LOOT HERE CHECK FOR GOLD HERE CHECK FOR TORCH HERE CHECK FOR BONE HERE DO CHEST COMPRESSIONS AGAIN DO CHEST ROTATE DO CRESCENT MOON APPEAR IN THE ROOM'S CENTER

>> do back away slowly

DO BACK AWAY SLOWLY DO NOT OVERDO IT THE CHEST WILL EXPLODE AND YOU WILL DIE OKAY, SO YOU SEE ME

You can play the game too! Just follow the colab notebook link in Nathan’s blog post. Tips: 1) It may be more fun if you set yourself an arbitrary goal to reach. 2) If you find things getting repetitive, try adjusting the temperature in the “Play the game” cell to 0.6 or 1.0.

Subscribers get bonus content: The fulltext of a couple of my adventures (much too long to include here).

You can order my book You Look Like a Thing and I Love You! It’s out November 5 2019.

Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #harry potter #gpt-2 #dungeons and dragons #d&d #gpt-2-simple #gpt-2-adventure

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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

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Catharsis [Local Musician!Calum] One Shot

Catharsis—The purging or release of emotional tensions, especially through kinds of art or music.

A/N: this is 19.3k of local musician!Calum and i hope you guys enjoy it! i loved writing this, bc it’s, in my opinion, softer than most of what i’ve written. also, the lovely moodboard is by my even lovelier friend @softforcal!!! happy reading, babies

There was a local artist in Annette’s favorite cafe, a musician, who’d captured her attention from the first strum of his guitar and the captivating voice he sang with the second she heard him. Blue’s was known for its dedication to giving the local talent a platform, paying them to sing for customers if they had what it took. And this guy, this brown haired, tattooed singer who alternated between performing covers and originals, had captured the hearts of all of the regulars—Annette included. It was because of him that she’d sometimes be late to work or classes if he happened to be playing, completely enraptured by his performance and his smooth rasp sounding over the dull chatter of customers. Not that anyone really talked over the sound of him—Calum Hood was just too captivating to ignore.

Annette was never sure what exactly it was that had her stopping in her tracks every time she heard him sing—if it was the deep lilt of his voice that managed to carry every note he meant to hit, or if it was the lyrics he sang when he introduced a song he wrote himself. Songs about love, loss, healing, and everything in between that hit a little too close to home every time. Honestly—Annette began giving more thought to what Calum must have gone through to be able to write such deeply personal songs that seemed to resonate with everyone than she did to the coursework she should have been focusing on.

Maybe she was being creepy. Maybe she should’ve stopped lingering in the back of the cafe after she got her order of either a strawberry iced tea or just coffee to lean against the wall and watch Calum strum a guitar and sing—her personal favorites were original songs he’d written like Never Be, Everything I Didn’t Say, The Girl Who Cried Wolf, and Moving Along and his covers of Stay by Post Malone and Blink-182’s I Miss You—and just moseyed on along to go to class or her shift at the store instead of looking like some stalker. But Annette couldn’t help it—she was a fan. Granted, she was no expert in the music industry, but Annette liked what she listened to, and there was no doubt in her mind that Calum was insanely talented. She knew everyone who came to Blue’s who was lucky enough to witness him perform, and the management that loved the patrons he was drawing in, would think the same thing.

There were often moments where she wished she grew the confidence in saying something to him—just a mere compliment of how good he was or something. It wasn’t like he was a world known musician, maybe a kind comment from a stranger would’ve made him smile, at the very least. But there was something about Calum that made him appear like the rockstar that he was probably meant to be. With his unruly dark curls, domineering height, tattooed skin, and sharp eyes that took in every face in the crowd, not to mention the overwhelming artistry that seemed to just ooze out of his pores, Calum Hood was a stature Annette wasn’t entirely sure she was prepared to approach. Sure, she’d seen people compliment him after he got off the stage with his guitar being gripped by ring clad fingers, had gotten glimpses of almost reserved smiles she felt were too quiet for someone who owned such loud talent, but she knew she wasn’t ready to actually face him herself.

So she listened and admired from afar, even though she desperately yearned to do so much more.

“You look like you got an hour’s worth of sleep last night.” Annette huffed as she shot Luke a look, settling down in her seat once he took his backpack off and dropped it on the floor so she could sit. Apparently a few days into the semester and some students thought it was okay to steal her unofficial-official seat.

Annette leaned back against the chair once she had her laptop in front of her and had taken off her favorite red framed and lensed sunglasses and Beats, letting out a drawn out sigh that carried the weight of her exhaustion. “Because I think I did,” she responded tiredly, the silvery tone she normally spoke in coming out as a heavy drawl. “Work didn’t let out until ten and I had a paper due at midnight and then Poe got sick and—” Annette cut herself off with a complaining groan, though she kept the sound quiet as people filtered into the classroom, sinking into her chair. “I’m ready to drop dead, honestly.”

“At least it’s the weekend, right?” Luke responded with an encouraging raise of his eyebrows, knowing Annette only worked the weekdays as he tapped his fingers against the sleek top of the desk. When she crossed her arms over her chest, closing her eyes and nodding, Luke offered a smile. “Couple of my friends are throwing a party in the East Village tonight. Bring whoever you want, yeah? It’ll be fun.”

Opening her eyes, Annette looked at her blue eyed friend, smiling at his offer as she modestly replied, “I wouldn’t wanna intrude—”

Luke snorted out a laugh, shooting her a look as their professor entered the room. “You’re not intruding if I’m inviting you. It’ll be great—there’s a karaoke machine.”

At that, the tattooed girl sputtered with her eyebrows shooting up as she instantly shook her head. “I don’t sing.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting his hands to gather up his blonde curls and pull them back into a bun, the too hot temperature in the classroom making even his barely shoulder length hair impossible to not tie back. “Then you can watch the rest of us act like idiots.” Raising his eyebrows he asked, “You in?”

Annette thought about it for a moment; she had planned to curl up in bed with Poe at her side and her laptop on so she could get some writing done, having barely any time for it with work and classes already kicking her ass. But, honestly, she wasn’t entirely inspired or motivated to actually sit and bust out a few words; maybe a party and being around people would help with that. She was always looking for new inspiration to hit, so maybe this would be good. She’d been in a bit of a rut lately, always ending up staring at a blank page or not knowing how to continue with what she already had. It was starting to get frustrating; stepping away sounded like the way to go.

So she smiled at Luke and nodded, “I’m in,” before sending a quick text to her roommate-slash-cousin Colin to recruit him for tonight. If anyone was willing to accompany her to a party, it was him.

When Annette reached for her plastic cup of strawberry iced tea, sipping the drink through the straw, Luke’s eyes dropped to the cup before humming, “I love Blue’s. They’ve got some great talent.”

She grinned, eyes dropping to the cup that said the restaurant’s name in script and the color of its namesake, as she played with the clear straw. Calum’s face flashed through her mind, the sound of his voice singing through her ears as she responded in absent thought, “I know.”

As the class settled, Luke propped his elbow on his desk and leaned his cheek against his palm, quirking his eyebrow as he asked, “You’ve got a favorite?”

Annette bit the inside of her lower lip as their professor pulled up the PowerPoint for today’s lecture. Oh, she definitely did have a favorite.

*****

“Hey, come inside for a sec.” Luke’s voice pulled Annette from her conversation with his friend Ashton, his friend Michael’s girlfriend Crystal, and Colin. The four of them were on the balcony of Ashton’s apartment, a few other people lingering about as the music playing from inside flowed outside to where they stood. Annette had only gotten to the party about twenty minutes ago, and had already met most of Luke’s friends, including his girlfriend Sierra, and so far she was enjoying herself as a refreshing September breeze tickled her skin. And she was enjoying the tequila, too. She looked at Luke, who was in the doorway of the balcony with a drink in his hand. His eyes met Annette’s as he added, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Annette responded slowly, unsurely, as she excused herself from the little group she was among. She walked towards Luke, who stepped back into the apartment to let her inside as she held her half empty glass of a margarita, raising an eyebrow at her tall friend. “Who’re we meeting?”

“A good friend of mine,” Luke smiled as they maneuvered their way through the living room, heading towards the kitchen. There were many people around, not as suffocating as a bustling house party that Annette was used to as everyone enjoyed each other’s company, danced to the music that was playing, though not entirely resembling a rambunctious frat house. Annette liked this better. Shooting her a dazzling, dimpled grin, Luke added reassuringly, “You’ll love him.”

Her curious expression never washed away as she nodded along, letting him lead her towards the kitchen. They stepped up towards the center island, which was decorated with a nice spread of cups and bottles of various kinds of alcohols and mixers, and stopped in front of a guy with his back turned towards them as he fixed himself a drink. His broad leather jacket covered back hindered Annette from seeing what he was making, glancing at Luke who smiled.

“This is Calum—Cal, this is my friend, Annette,” the blonde introduced, gesturing between the two people, and upon hearing his name, the man in front of them turned around, but it was long before Annette saw his face that she realized who he was. Right when Luke had said his name, realization clicked in Annette’s mind as she recognized the back of the guy’s head of short curls, now that he had been named.

Brown eyes met Annette’s bluish-brown and suddenly she found her heart in her throat because she’d never been this close to him before. Never had she been given the opportunity to look at his dark eyes, always standing at the other side of the cafe to merely listen and watch him play. But it was no surprise that the brown of his eyes, so dark that they almost melted into the pupil, was just as bewitching as the sound of his voice as she felt her throat dry when she looked into them. Annette had known Calum was tall as he towered in front of her, though his height was not entirely as domineering as Luke’s—she doubted anyone’s was—yet still she felt small in his presence.

Whoever invented the phrase tall, dark and handsome probably pictured Calum in mind.

His lips quirked up, a polite smile lifting his cheeks as he gazed at her. Annette could feel her body flush even though he wasn’t even doing anything. “Nice to meet you,” Calum spoke, his familiar voice just as smooth without a microphone amplifying the hint of a rasp in which he spoke with. He’d been lifting his cup as he spoke, taking a sip once he was finished and Annette noticed how his eyebrows furrowed subtly as he continued to look at her. Lowering his cup, lips glistening from his drink, Calum thoughtfully remarked, “I think I’ve seen you ’round before.”

Oh, her heart had found residency in her throat. He recognized her, and no matter how vague his recollection may be, the mere acknowledgment that she was a familiar face to him was exciting. Annette wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she was pathetically enamored with a guy who wasn’t even a celebrity, though he felt like one to her, or if it was because of how ridiculously attractive he was. Maybe because he was just so talented and actually being able to speak to him was ridiculous to her. Maybe it was all of it.

“Uh, at Blue’s, maybe?” Annette offered, pretending as though she had no idea where he could’ve possibly seen her before, knowing full well that’s exactly where. The way Calum blinked in realization was too adorable.

“Annette’s seen a bunch of your performances, dude,” Luke chimed in, a knowing tone lilting the smile in his voice and it wasn’t until Annette glanced at him, saw the glint in his blue eyes, did it click in her mind what he was doing. She couldn’t even help the way her eyes narrowed at him, though Luke was smart enough to keep his gaze purposefully locked on Calum.

Still, the need for damage control was prominent, and as Annette forced herself to drag her glare away from Luke and wipe it off by the time her eyes met Calum’s, she managed to say, “Just a few.” Nobody had to know she was downplaying the fact that she watched as many of his performances as she could. Coming off as a stalker wasn’t the kind of first impression Annette wanted to give off—not that she even knew there’d be an impression to give off in the first place. Damn it, Luke. Was he trying to embarrass her? Free hand nervously sliding into the back pocket of her shorts, Annette found herself adding truthfully, “You’re really good.”

Calum nodded, the smallest of smiles upturning his pressed together lips, and Annette couldn’t help but feeling as though he was forcing himself to do so. Like he appreciated the compliment, but it also didn’t mean much to him. “Appreciate it,” he responded, because he had to, because it was etiquette, and Annette felt something uncomfortable stir in the pit of her stomach. Uncomfortable, embarrassed, and, frankly, affronted. Though she wasn’t too sure she had the right to feel that last one. Calum’s eyes shifted over her head, looking at something behind her as he raised unexpressed eyebrows and his cup as well, using a finger to point at something as he added quickly, “Excuse me, there��s—I’m being called over.”

He walked around her and while Annette knew that it was probably nothing personal against her—they didn’t know each other for it to be—she still felt her skin flush with an embarrassed and mildly offended heat of being brushed off like that. Her lips pressed together, staring at the spot Calum had stood in, wondering if she was even allowed to feel this way because Calum was only someone she enjoyed listening to at Blue’s. He didn’t owe her a conversation or anything. Yet the offense of his less than polite behavior, no matter how brief the interaction, still had her stomach twisting uncomfortably. And then it would cycle into her reprimanding herself for being so sensitive.

Fuck. Why couldn’t she just figure out and agree on what she was feeling?

“Shit—Sorry about him.” Luke’s apology pulled Annette out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the friend she’d only recently made to see Luke frowning over in whatever direction Calum had walked off in. He looked down at her blue eyes meeting her slightly darker ones, the disappointment clear in his irises as he let out a breath. “He’s normally not like that, I swear. I don’t know what’s up with him.”

Annette gave a dismissive shake of her head, offering Luke what she hoped came off as a reassuring smile. Because she had a feeling Luke knew exactly what was going on with his friend, but he didn’t owe her an explanation. Just like Calum didn’t owe her a conversation; maybe Annette was just being overly sensitive for no reason. “Never meet your heroes, huh?” she said jokingly, and she half meant it. Calum wasn’t her hero—that just sounded ridiculous and overdramatic. He was just some guy who played at her local cafe, that’s all. Still, this wasn’t how she’d imagined their first meeting to go—not that she really thought she’d actually get the chance to talk to him.

Luke let out an airy chuckle, and Annette could tell he felt just as miffed and even slightly embarrassed about that brief interaction as she did. But it was whatever. Not a big deal. “Come on, let me get you a refill,” Luke said after glancing at her nearly finished drink, and she grasped onto that change of topic with both hands and stepped towards the countertop full of drinks.

As he made Annette her drink of choice of a Malibu, she noted the purse of his lips and a small smile quirked at her lips. “It’s not a big deal, Luke,” she told him truthfully. Sure, Calum basically walking away wasn’t what she’d thought would happen, but what could you do? Annette wasn’t one to hold grudges or hold onto any negative emotions for too long. Life was too short to be bothered by something for too long.

Luke glanced at her from where he stood on the other side of the counter, a whole head and a half taller than the girl next to him making her own drink, and shot Annette a small smile. “So much for first impressions, huh?”

*****

“Oh, there’s Annette.” Calum glanced up from his laptop from where he was doing his composition homework, gaze landing on Luke sitting across from him at their table in Blue’s. But his blonde friend was looking off to his right and Calum followed his gaze, eyes landing on the mention girl.

She stood on line to order, her red Beats deafening her to the world around her as she kept herself busy on her phone. For a moment, Calum found himself wondering how he’d never seen her around before; she was gorgeous, with thick blonde hair that curled at the bottom, a couple of tattoos inking the skin of her left arm, and a smile he’d gotten to see the other night at Ashton’s party before he’d abruptly left the conversation. Something Luke had reprimanded him on after the fact.

Calum watched her as she took a step forward on the line, adjusting her headphones before returning her attention to her phone. He looked away as well, brown eyes meeting Luke’s blue ones, blinking at the expectant expression on his friend’s face. “I think you should apologize to her.”

Eyebrows scrunching upwards, Calum scoffed as he leaned back in his seat and asked, “What for?”

Luke shot him a pointed look, aware that he didn’t have to answer that question because Calum knew the answer. His interaction with Annette had been quite brief all because Calum hadn’t really wanted to engage in a conversation. It hadn’t been anything personal against her; Calum had just wanted to stick to those he knew, be around his friends who already knew him well enough to know if he acted cold, it wasn’t their fault. It was just the mood he was in. That day hadn’t been the best, and after Luke introduced him to Annette, Calum had spent the rest of the party escaped up onto the roof, with the only thing keeping him company being his cigarettes.

“Listen, man,” Luke spoke up before Calum could say anything, letting out a sigh and crossing his arms on the table. He looked at him with an almost hopeful expression. “I wouldn’t care if it was anyone else, but Annette’s my friend, alright? And when she told me you were her, like, favorite musician here I thought it’d be cool if you two met. So when you brushed her off it just—it didn’t leave a good impression, you know?”

Pursing his lips, Calum took a breath at Luke’s words. The knowledge of him being someone Annette genuinely enjoyed listening to actually did make him feel like a bit of an asshole for the way he’d just walked away from her. Though, to be fair, if he’d stuck around then their interaction may have gone worse.

Just wrong timing, Calum figured. He always appreciated when people at Blue’s, or anyone really, told him they enjoyed listening to him perform. It gave him the push to continue on doing so, to come to Blue’s whenever he could and get up on the small stage and sing his songs and covers for the patrons. Calum figured he’d probably still do it if he wasn’t getting paid; the money was just a bonus on top of the positive feedback he received.

Yeah. He was kind of a jerk for brushing off someone who’d done nothing except for compliment him.

With Luke’s gaze burning into him, Calum let out a heavy breath of, “For fuck’s sake,” before pushing back his chair and standing up. He ignored the happy smile on Luke’s face as he made his way around the spread out tables, figuring the sooner he apologized to Annette, the sooner Luke would get off his back.

He got to where Annette was standing just as it was her turn to order, and Calum worked quickly as he pulled out his wallet and just as the cashier, Rick, told Annette the total, Calum announced his presence by offering his card and saying, “It’s on me.”

Annette blinked at him, startled, too surprised to object at the sudden offer as Rick, obviously knowing who Calum was, took the card and completed the transaction. Once Calum’s card was returned, he put it back in his wallet and shoved the leather accessory back in the pocket of his pants, gaze finally sliding over to Annette who was staring at him in bewilderment.

Her lips, pink and glossy, parted. “You—” she began, only to cut herself off as she glanced over her shoulder and stepped to the side, Calum following suit, to let the next customer place their order. Calum followed Annette to stand at the end of the counter where her order would be placed, watching as she took her headphones off and let them hang around her neck as she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Calum shrugged, hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket as he told her, “Consider it a peace offering. I hadn’t given the best of impressions at the party.”

He watched as Annette rolled her lips into her mouth, tapping her nails against the back of her phone as she considered his words. Her gaze, then, went around Calum’s friend to look at something behind him, and he noted the subtle quirk at one corner of her mouth as she lifted her chain. “Is the peace offering your idea or Luke’s?”

The musician pursed his lips, knowing she was valid in asking that question. What was more was that she didn’t make it sound rude, just genuine curiosity as her gaze met Calum’s once more, the questioning clear in the way she raised an eyebrow. Pressing his lips together, Calum let out a quick breath through his nose before answering her truthfully, “It was Luke’s idea that I come over. The drink really is on me.” Realizing he hadn’t actually done what Luke had asked for him, Calum added, “But I am sorry for acting the way I did.”

To his surprise, Annette twisted her lips to the side before giving a shrug. “You don’t have to apologize, honestly, though I appreciate it. It’s not a big deal—definitely not something to feel bad about.”

For a moment, Calum kept his gaze on her, eyes twitching ever so slightly to narrow as he considered Annette, trying to see if she genuinely meant her words or was just saying them to be nice. He wasn’t going to lie—he kind of agreed with her. It wasn’t a big deal, and while he was sorry for dismissing her the way he had and while he could’ve been nicer, it was too short of an interaction for him to feel an immense amount of guilt for. Sure, their first meeting was only cut short because of Calum himself, but wasn’t he allowed bad days? He’d only come to the party because his best friend was throwing it, and it made Calum feel less like a loser to have the reason of wanting to have fun so he could drink, and he really hadn’t been in the mood to meet new people and entertain them. What was so wrong about that?

Unlike Luke, Annette’s answer seemed to be absolutely nothing.

Maybe he got lucky with such a forgiving person.

Before Calum could say anything, Rick had called out Annette’s name and she received her iced coffee, turning to look at Calum with an appreciative smile as she held up the clear cup. “Thanks for the caffeine.” Her smile was sweet and still Calum felt something uncomfortable twist his stomach as she added, “I’ve got class. I’ll uh,” Annette paused, eyes darting before she looked at him once more, “see you around.”

She gave a nod before stepping away, fixing her headphones with one hand as she turned around and walked to the door, ignoring the way Calum’s gaze burned into her back. The frown involuntarily pulled his eyebrows together once she left, feeling a bit unsatisfied over an interaction he hadn’t really wanted to partake in the first place. He hadn’t really wanted to apologize, but there had been a part of Calum that felt a bit badly about their initial meeting, so he listened to Luke and now. . . It kind of felt as though Annette didn’t really care enough.

The tables seemed to have turned and it was unsettling.

*****

“This is a cute idea,” Annette hummed as she entered Blue’s after Sierra, Colin and Luke right behind them. She’d never come to the cafe during the nighttime, eyes taking in the place that looked transformed, unfamiliar than to what it looked like during the day. There were blue string lights lining the edges where the walls and ceiling met, providing the only light in the cafe save for the white spotlights on the stage. It was more crowded than normal, a pleasant buzz of chatter in the air as well as the occasional whir of the blender behind the counter as the employees made the drinks on order.

Apparently Blue’s, along with paying local artists to perform at their cafe during the day, had a showcase kind of thing every other month—which Annette had been oblivious to until Luke brought it up a few days back. Blue’s had all the artists they paid come together for one night every other month and perform for the patrons and would get paid extra, and sometimes there would be people who worked at record labels and scouts always looking for new talent in attendance, which Annette thought was pretty cool and a good opportunity for exposure.

“I’m surprised you haven’t come to one of these before,” Luke said to her as they walked in, him standing taller than everyone else as his eyes darted around in hopes to find the friends they were here to meet.

Annette huffed, a bit miffed at her own ignorance of this kind of event. She loved watching all of the musicians Blue’s employed, so being able to watch them all in one night sounded so great and she’d been missing out on it. Next to her, Colin snickered. “You’d think being a groupie for all the performers you’d know about this.”

That invited a round of laughter from Luke and Sierra, and Annette made a protesting sound before elbowing her cousin’s side, though it didn’t erase the all too amused smirk from his face. People around them moved, either talking to others or trying to find a table, and Sierra suddenly spoke up, “There they are.”

She started moving, the rest of them following after her as she led them to a table where they spotted Calum, Ashton, Michael and their girlfriends. They’d joined two tables together, enough to fit all nine of them, and greetings were thrown about as the four of them reached the others. Annette settled down on the chair next to Ashton after he gave her a friendly side-hug as Luke spoke up, “You ready, man?”

Annette’s gaze drifted to Calum, who sat on one end of the table, furthest from her as he offered a nod. He looked at ease, comfortable in a black and white Elvis shirt with the neckline lined by his chain necklace, hands resting on his lap beneath the table. Unsurprisingly, he looked good, Annette instantly noticed; she’d offered him a brief greeting when they’d arrived—nothing against him, truthfully, but because she figured that’s what he’d want.

When he apologized to her the other day, Annette knew it was Luke’s doing—a fact she’d flicked him off for the next time they had class together. To be fair, Calum had looked a bit miffed for his off-mood when they’d met, and the more Annette had thought about it after, the more she realized she had no reason to actually be embarrassed or anything. People were allowed bad days, they were allowed to turn down conversations if they weren’t feeling up for it, especially if it was with a stranger. It hadn’t been the most pleasant of first meetings, but it wasn’t something Annette couldn’t get over. She’d learned, over the years, what things were worth lamenting over and what were small enough to let go. Her first meeting with Calum had been the latter.

Still, him coming up to her to apologize to her had been kind of unexpected. But then she figured out Luke had been the one to push Calum to do it, and while Calum hadn’t delivered a half hearted apology, Annette could tell he wasn’t a hundred percent keen on doing it. And, in some way, him being forced to talk to her a second time was more embarrassing than the first time. She kind of hated her ability to read people so clearly up close. If the action had an off switch, Annette would keep it taped.

So, naturally, when she joined the group—after Luke’s inspired begging for her to come along—she’d greeted Calum with a quick and friendly smile before settling on the stool. No more forced interactions this time around.

“Yeah,” Calum responded to Luke’s question, leaning forward enough to prop his elbows up on the low table, linking his ring clad fingers in front of him, the metal of his chain bracelet hitting the wooden table as he rested his hands down. With a shrug and a small, brief smile he added, “’S not a big deal.”

It was a modest response, Annette noticed, which only reminded her of how comfortable Calum probably was on a stage, even a small one at some cafe chain in New York. She’d certainly witnessed his ease when she caught a performance, but to actually be within his company right before he went on stage was a side she never thought she’d be privy to, and was taking in intently. In the presence of his friends, Annette could see the relaxation of Calum’s broad shoulders, dark eyes almost gentle as he listened to his friends chatter around him. He didn’t look on edge like he had the night of the party, eyes darting and fingers around his cup tight; right now, it was easy to pick up on the air of calmness that surrounded Calum like a bubble.

“Are you performing anything new?” Michael questioned, sitting directly opposite of Annette.

Letting out a breath, Calum subtly raised an eyebrow as he responded, “I’d have to have something new written to perform it.” With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Calum added, “Think I’m gonna go with San Francisco.”

Before she could help it, Annette chimed in, “That’s a good one.”

She pressed her lips together after the comment slipped, though it was an honest one. Annette had heard Calum perform that song a while back, thought the lyrics and guitar and his voice were lovely when he played it, and the prospect of listening to it again was exciting. Except she hadn’t really meant to make herself known, her words drawing Calum’s attention towards her as his brown eyes met her bluish ones, like he hadn’t expected her to say anything, either. Annette fiddled with her thumbs under the table, forcing her closed mouth to lift into the smallest of smiles at Calum as a way of appeasing his intense stare.

But Calum offered a small smile, a real one, as he responded with a simple, “Thanks.”

Soon enough, the small exhibition started, and Blue’s fell silent as the first performer of the night got up on stage. A couple of them were familiar faces for Annette, having seen them during the occasions where she came by and Calum wasn’t playing, but there were also a few she hadn’t ever seen before. Everyone was pretty good, had their own style and genre of music that they worked into the welcoming environment of Blue’s, and Annette found herself swaying gently to every person’s song or ballad.

And then it was Calum’s turn to go up, being introduced warmly and familiarly by the manager as a household name, and their table’s cheers were the loudest as he picked up his guitar and headed towards the stage, returning Luke’s fist bump as he made his way up. Annette shifted in her seat, as if physically preparing herself to listen to Calum perform a song she’s heard before. She felt as though her eagerness and excitement was radiating off of her, the sensation familiar as it was what she experienced whenever she came to pick up some coffee before work or class and Calum was at Blue’s, right up on the stage like he was right now.

The entirety of Blue’s was dark, save for the blue lights for the ambiance, and the bright lights on Calum as he settled on the stool in front of the microphone, his sleek guitar on his lap. Annette’s eyes were glued on him, much like everyone else’s, but unlike the rest of them, she was taking in every detail her eyes would allow her to. She observed the way his tongue poked out to swipe his bottom lip, rolling it into his mouth as he made sure the microphone was leveled. The bright lights shone against his skin, glinting against the chains he wore, and Calum needed a second to adjust his eyes to the beams and Annette wondered if he could see the faces waiting for him as his gaze swept over in front of him.

With his left hand holding the neck of the guitar on his lap, Calum offered a close mouthed, humbled smile. “Evenin’, everyone,” he started, his voice amplified by the microphone as the deep and gentle rasp of his voice resounded. “I’m Calum and, uh, tonight I’m gonna play an original called San Francisco.” Annette watched his right hand move into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a guitar pick as he offered another quick smile. “Hope you like it.”

Calum started playing the chords to the song and Annette took in a quiet breath as the familiar tune reached her ears. Then Calum leaned towards the microphone, lips parting as he began singing lyrics that he’d written, and Annette wondered if she was the only one feeling goosebumps rise on her skin at the sound of his smooth, rich voice resounding around the cafe. Unlike the other times Annette has watched Calum perform at Blue’s, it was utterly silent as everyone’s attention was on him as opposed to when he played during regular business hours and there was a quiet buzz of chatter.

Now, though, everyone was listening to him, their focus solely on him as his ring clad fingers effortlessly played the guitar, and Annette was completely entranced as she watched him, lips parting absently as she listened. The emotion Calum sang with made his performance all the more enchanting, and not for the first time did Annette wonder what experience Calum went through to write a song like this—something she wondered every time she heard him perform an original song.

Annette was creative in her own right, could make up stories and characters and create a whole world out of them, but writing a song wasn’t something she could be able to do. And she was always left in awe when she listened to the songs Calum chose to share, many of them about love and then losing that love, and it often ached Annette’s heart when she listened to them. The pain he delicately and beautifully described in his songs was almost familiar to Annette, having faced loss in her life before, and she often found herself wishing Calum hadn’t had to deal with something like that. Which was ridiculous, because she didn’t know him, and life wasn’t that simple. That didn’t stop Annette from wishing it was.

Next to her, she could feel Ashton lightly drumming along to Calum’s song with his hands slapping against his thighs under the table, head subtly bopping to the music. Although she didn’t want to take her eyes off of Calum, Annette still glanced around, took in the way everyone in the room was hooked on Calum and his music, and she felt a smile tug at her lips. She didn’t know him, but she was proud.

*****

“What are you drinking?”

Annette looked up at Calum once she heard him, patiently waiting to get the bartender’s attention, and he watched the way she blinked at him once before raising her eyebrows gently. Then, with a small smile, she asked, “Are you apologizing for something?”

Pressing the tip of his tongue to the back of his bottom teeth, Calum let out an airy chuckle, knowing she was referring to when he bought her that iced coffee as a way of making up for his behavior at the party. “No,” Calum told her truthfully, left elbow resting against the bar top as he faced the shorter blonde girl. “Just, uh, tryin’ to be nice, I guess.”

Calum had no reason not to be nice to Annette, and since she was basically Luke’s new best friend, Calum knew he couldn’t be an asshole to her without reason. She’d never given him a reason to act the way he did, and she really was a nice girl from what he could tell. Calum had seen her during his performance earlier tonight, had seen the way her eyes seemed to be glued to her in unabashed awe, and it only made him further understand that she genuinely did enjoy his music.

Just because he was miserable more than half the time, didn’t give him the right to treat others like that.

He saw her smile widen just a bit at her words, eyes flickering to the row of bottles behind the bar before telling Calum, “Rum and Coke.”

Flagging the bartender down, Calum relayed her order and added in his own. They were at a bar a couple of blocks away from Blue’s, the group of them shifting over after the performances were over around ten at night. The weekend permitted them to go out, though Calum didn’t plan on staying too late.

“So be honest.” He dragged Annette’s attention once more, and Calum could just barely see the hint of dark blue that lined the outer of her otherwise brown irises. In that moment, he absently decided she had the most interesting eyes he’d ever seen. “Did you think I was an asshole when we first met?”

“I—what?” The startled laugh that Annette released upon hearing Calum’s question wasn’t entirely expected, her eyebrows shooting up as she leaned back a bit. But he kept looking at her, raising his own eyebrows to let her know that he was, frankly, asking a genuine question, because he wouldn’t be surprised if she did. When Annette realized how serious he was, the smile on her face faltered a bit as she shook her head. “No, I didn’t. That’s just—that would be an extreme reaction, Calum. I’m not that sensitive.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, finger absently prodding at the bartop, nail scraping against a crack on it. “But I did, like, make you feel bad, didn’t I? To some extent?”

Annette looked at him, and Calum tried to remain neutral and unaffected by the subtle narrowing of her eyes as she took him apart with her gaze. She was trying to figure him out and Calum couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed because she was doing it so. . . Kindly. Her gaze was gentle, welcoming, like she didn’t want to alarm him or put him off as she tried to figure him out. Calum wondered what kind of magical fucking powers Annette possessed to keep him feeling comfortable even as her mind picked him apart. Maybe it was the glittering of her eyes, or the soft way she looked at him. Because even with her thick blonde hair and long lashes and tattoos, she still reminded Calum of soft.

“Are you trying to make yourself feel guilty about it again?” Annette asked, and this time Calum did feel himself freeze at her words. Had it really been that easy for her to figure him out? Or was she just generally that good at reading people? She gazed up at him, earnest and true. “Because I told you, Calum, it wasn’t a big deal. It happened and it’s over. Honestly—it’s not a big deal.” With an easy, light laugh, Annette added, “Don’t make it seem like you, like, bitched me out or something. It’s all good.”

She was terribly easy going, Calum realized, as the bartender handed them their drinks. Not the type to hold a grudge, it seemed.

Honestly, Calum wasn’t entirely sure why he was bringing it up again, wasn’t sure where the lingering guilt was coming from—or if guilt was too strong of a word. Maybe he just still felt bad? Especially after he saw how much Annette seemed to enjoy his single song performance at Blue’s. Through the bright spotlights at the cafe, Calum had been able to make out the faces of his friends once his eyes had adjusted, and while their encouraging smiles had been expected and welcome, Calum had also took in the way Annette had been watching him.

It unexpectedly warmed him. He knew it wasn’t the heat from the lights.

So, yeah. He suddenly found himself wanting to start a clean slate. Even if he started off thinking he didn’t care.

It was something about her eyes. Calum was certain of it.

“Come on,” Annette cut through his thoughts, lifting up her glass with an easy going smile lifting her pink lips. “To friends of friends.”

At that, Calum let out a quiet chuckle, quirking an eyebrow as the bar buzzed around them. The music was loud and people were chattering all over, but Calum’s eyes were on Annette’s smiling ones. “Think we can cut the middle man out here,” he told her with a small smile of his own. Annette raised her eyebrows, soft smile ever present, as Calum raised his glass as well, clinking it with hers as he corrected, “To being friends.”

*****

When Annette received her drink and turned around to head towards the door, she stopped when her eyes landed on the familiar face sitting at a table near the windows. It wasn’t hard because Calum was already looking at her, laptop in front of him but gaze on her as he raised his hand in a single wave, and Annette felt a smile tug at her lips.

She made her way over to him, because now she could, now they were friends. Ever since the event here at Blue’s and their conversation at the bar after, a friendship had been established between the two of them, discarding their first meeting all together in hopes of moving forward. He leaned forward in his chair as she approached him, arms folded and a small smile tilted his lips once she got to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Annette greeted with a teasing grin, standing beside the round table.

Calum chuckled quietly, lifting his hand and tilting his head to let his fingers mess up his slightly unruly curls. “You headed to class?” he questioned, looking up at her with dark brown eyes that reminded Annette too much of chocolate.

“No,” she responded with a shake of her head. “I just finished a shift, actually, and I needed my after-work caffeine.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “So you’ve got nowhere to be?” Her smile returned at the knowing tone of his voice, felt something pathetically flutter in the pit of her stomach as she hummed out a no with a shake of her head and he gestured to the empty seat across from him. As she settled down, Calum’s eyes took in her drink visible through the transparent cup, and he raised his eyebrows before letting out an amused scoff. “That’s the. . . Froofiest drink I’ve ever seen.”

Annette let out a protesting, mock-insulted laugh as she defended, “Hey, don’t make fun of my drink.” She took a sip through the straw, watching Calum watch her with scrunched eyebrows raised and a bemused expression on his face. “It’s a passion iced tea. With blackberries.”

Calum, still, was not still not impressed. “It’s purple,” he deadpanned.

With a scoff, Annette said with a small pout, “Don’t make fun of my froo-froo drink.” Jutting her chin at his cup, she narrowed her eyes challengingly and mocked, “What about you? Black coffee is boring.”

Calum wasn’t offended or apologetic. “It’s normal. No froo-froo.”

Annette’s smile returned, unable to keep the teasing lilt in her voice. “Everyone needs a little froo-froo in their life.” She couldn’t hope to keep a serious expression on her face, the laughter bubbling past. Annette’s chest tightened happily when she managed to get a laugh out of him in response. A breathy, raspy sound that was short yet did show his amusement with the conversation. She wondered what he sounded like when he laughed with everything in him.

Their conversation moved on as Calum asked her about work, the noise of the cafe melting into the background, breaking every so often when the barista at the counter called out a customer’s name whenever their drink was ready. Annette had realized that talking to Calum, once she adjusted her nerves, was pretty easy. He was easy to talk to, once he decided he wanted to actually hold a conversation, and Annette felt pretty good about the fact that he actually wanted to talk to her.

That was probably pathetic, she knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She liked talking to him, liked listening to the sound of his voice when he wasn’t singing, just as smooth and rich as he engaged with her. Calum talked leisurely, like he was in no rush, and he listened just like that, too. As if he had all of the time in the world to listen to whatever Annette was saying, and it was a complete change from when they met that first night. And it only proved to her that she’d caught him on a bad day, that the Calum from that party wasn’t how he actually treated people, but the one sitting across from her was a more honest and true version of him.

The way he stared at her as they talked was something Annette knew would take some time getting used to. His dark eyes stayed on her lighter ones, as if he was taking in every detail while also listening, and Annette often found herself with a dry throat, in need of clearing it to keep herself grounded. It was dangerously easy getting lost because of Calum’s stare. She wondered how many others had fallen victim to it.

“The Great British Baking Show? Really?” Annette asked incredulously, eyebrows raised as a disbelieving grin spread at her lips. She was gaping at Calum, who huffed with arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at her, though no true defiance was present.

“Why’s that so hard to believe?” he returned, obviously not getting why his admittance to one of his guilty pleasures was so shocking.

Annette laughed, good humored and melodious as she gave a shake of her head. “I just can’t picture you watching something like that. It’s just—there’s no image in my head,” she said with a laugh, her words only causing Calum to roll his eyes.

“Come over one day and then you’ll be able to—”

“Liana!”

Calum instantly cut himself off as the barista’s voice cut through his words, prompting Annette to raise her eyebrows in slight startlement at the unexpected stop. She watched him, eyebrows lowering slowly into a frown as his dark eyed gaze remained behind her in the direction of the counter, all previous lightheartedness completely vanishing from his expression. Brown eyes wide, there was a hint of alarm swimming in them as Calum pressed his lips together, the muscle in his jaw jumping, clearly looking like a man who didn’t like what he was seeing. There was a rigidness in his features, tight and uncomfortable with drawn together eyes lifted and worry reluctantly seeping into his eyes as well.

His lips parted, still looking behind Annette as he quietly breathed out, “Fuck’s sake.”

Calum’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he clenched his jaw once more and Annette grew more concerned over his suddenly irate demeanor, looking like he wasn’t sure if he was exasperated or just wanted to disappear from sight altogether. Hesitantly, Annette asked, “Are you okay?” Slowly, she turned around to see what he was staring so intensely at. “What’re you looking at?”

It wasn’t that busy during this time in the late evening at Blue’s, so Annette’s gaze went directly towards one of the few women she saw standing in the general direction Calum had been staring at. She was pretty, with dark brown hair just a little past her shoulders and legs that looked spectacular in the jeans she was wearing. The woman stood talking to a guy by the counter and Annette guessed he was waiting for his order or something, and with a curious quirk of her brow, she kept her questioning gaze on them as she asked Calum, “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” came Calum’s response, slow and gruff, his change of tone as surprising as his fallen expression. “You can say that.”

As if hearing Calum’s voice from where she stood, Annette caught the way the woman’s head turned and gaze looked right past her—and right at the man Annette was sharing a table with. Even from where she sat, Annette saw the recognition flash across the other girl’s face, eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they widened in realization.

And then Annette watched her touch the arm of the guy she was with as she said something to him, before she began making her way over, and Annette’s eyebrows raised as she turned back in her seat to face Calum and matter-of-factly said, “Yeah, ’cause she definitely knows you.”

Her gaze finally landed on Calum, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at Blue’s in that moment. Annette could tell he was struggling to school his expression, the tightness born out of frustration and something else fighting to make itself known on his face, and she couldn’t help but frown at him. Clearly whoever the woman making their way over to him was, was not someone Calum wanted to deal with as his hands wrapped around the edge of his laptop screen, and Annette was briefly worried he was going to snap it in half just as the woman stepped up to the table.

“Calum, hi.” She spoke in a friendly tone, though without even knowing her, Annette could pick up the subtle hesitance lying underneath. Glancing up at her, she saw the girl—Annette guessed her name was Liana, given that was the name that had Calum getting all closed up—nervously grab the strap of her back with her free hand, the other holding her drink. Her honey colored eyes swept over to Annette, a small smile present. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” She looked back at Calum once Annette offered a no worries type of smile. Was it bad to say she was curious as to what was going on? Looking back at Calum, Liana said, “I just saw you and I, uh, wanted to come say hi.” She bit her lower lip hesitantly. “How are you?”

Liana seemed to genuinely want to know, and Annette’s eyebrows lowered ever so slightly as she watched the two of them. Calum had leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and Annette had a feeling it was his way of defending himself from whatever weight this conversation was about to bring. Annette felt as though she was intruding, but getting up now would be too obvious and awkward.

“We’re not friends, Liana.” If Annette had thought Calum was cold towards her during their first meeting, it made that interaction look impeccable in terms of Calum’s demeanor now. She eyed him, silent in concern, at the edge that had bit into his tone and the way his eyes were suddenly void of all emotion. It was unnerving how good he was at that; like Calum had just flipped a switch and was able to hide everything he was feeling that had the chance of showing itself on his face. It was all gone, replaced by uninterested blankness with the creeping edge of dismissal and irritation. Those were the only emotions he allowed to convey, and Annette forced herself to remain a quiet presence. His gaze was sharp as he looked at the standing woman. “Wasn’t our last conversation meant to be our last?”

Annette pursed her lips, her gaze suddenly dropping to the table in front of her, like if she didn’t look at the two people, it’d be like she wasn’t listening in on the way Calum was completely shutting Liana down. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, feeling the tension suddenly increase tenfold following Calum’s words. Annette understood that she had definitely caught Calum on a bad day the night of the party, because Liana was definitely not someone Calum wanted to be around at all. Annette felt bad for her; she hadn’t felt too great after Calum had walked away, she could only imagine how Liana was feeling.

There was a history there, that much was obvious, and Annette justifiably wondered what could’ve happened that had Calum talking to her like that.

Annette could see Liana shifting uncomfortably from her peripheral. “Come on, Calum,” she tried again, this time a nervous laugh escaping her. “It’s been—”

“Five months,” he cut in. Annette glanced up at him in enough time to see him say, “’S not long enough.”

She took a quiet breath when she noted the stare Calum was wearing: sharp, unforgiving, unapologetic. Annette wondered how Liana was still standing in the face of it, figuring that if she was on the receiving end of it, she would definitely turn and run away just because of the utter heat his glare was radiating. Holy shit—what had Liana done that warranted her such a hostile reaction from him?

Annette managed to look up, her gaze going to Liana, who had a defeated expression on her face that made the seated blonde feel sorry for her. Liana’s throat worked, her cheeks flushing an embarrassed pink, and Annette wondered why the woman didn’t snap back at Calum for speaking to her like that. Annette probably wasn’t one to say something like that, given how Calum had walked away from her the first time, but to be fair, their interaction wasn’t anywhere near as intense as this one. It was brief, quick, like ripping off a bandaid. This was almost too painful to watch.

Just as Annette thought that, she saw a shift in Liana in the way she tightened her jaw, blinking back the hurt Calum’s words enticed as she lifted her chin. With a calm tone that allowed for her own edge to creep in, Liana said to him, “If you remember the last time we spoke, then you remember what I said to you.” Her eyes gave him a once over, the corner of her lips quirking into the smallest of sneers, like she was disappointed but unsurprised with what she was looking at. “But I guess you didn’t listen. As usual.”

Annette saw the instant reaction Liana’s words invited on Calum’s face, the way his dark eyes narrowed instinctively, like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. His jaw tightened. Like he was fighting to keep himself from reacting but couldn’t. Liana’s words, the meaning lost on Annette, clearly struck a harsh cord with Calum as his shoulders straightened, lips thinning as he fought the words threatening to escape.

But before Calum could say anything—Annette was sure she wouldn’t want to hear it—someone stepped up next to Liana and said, “Ready to go, babe?”

All eyes shifted to the newcomer, the guy Annette had seen with Liana earlier, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He seemed oblivious to the tension as he smiled at Liana, gaze sweeping over Annette and Calum as a second thought. He offered both of them friendly smiles, one Annette returned automatically before her gaze flickered to Calum instinctively, because she felt as though she needed to keep an eye on him.

And she was right to, because otherwise she would’ve missed the tightness of his jaw and the way his throat worked as he eyed the guy, or, more accurately, eyed the way his arm was around Liana. She watched Calum take in the sight of the couple, her eyebrows twitching together in a curious and concerned frown as she tried to figure out what Calum was feeling in that moment. To say he was bothered would be putting it lightly; he almost looked uncomfortable, defeated. . . Not surprised as he let out an airy scoff, nodding to himself as he leaned back.

His gaze dropped to his laptop screen, pulling one corner of his lip into his mouth, looking completely finished with this conversation and Annette frowned at him. What the hell was going on?

“Yeah,” she heard Liana say, her voice growing tight with agitation. “Bye, Calum. Sorry to interrupt.”

They left, their footsteps growing faint the further they moved away, melding into the low hum of the cafe as they exited, leaving behind an awkward silence Annette wasn’t sure how to ease. She took a look at Calum hesitantly, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as she caught sight of him staring out the window to his right. The lights of the city reflected against the glass and his dark eyes, but the outside world melted into the late evening night as Annette watched the clench of his jaw and hardened eyes.

She had no idea who Liana was, but it wasn’t hard to connect the dots that there was some kind of intense history between her and Calum, and whatever Liana meant by her words had hit Calum more than he wanted them to. Annette parted her lips, hesitant, before pressing them together again. She found the courage quickly to gently ask, “Are you okay?”

Calum was silent for a moment. Then it was like something snapped in his head, motions quick and jerking as he shut his laptop, grunting out, “I need a drink.” His gaze dropped to the half finished cup in front of him, frown deepening. “Somethin’ stronger than coffee.”

Annette’s eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised as she watched him shove his laptop in his backpack before shouldering it as he stood up. Her eyes followed his movements and Calum paused when he noticed her still sitting, watching him. He raised an eyebrow, impatient as he questioned, “You comin’?”

“Uh.” She gaped at him, not entirely expecting the invite, not when he seemed so agitated. His grip on the strap of his bag was tight, and Annette figured he’d want to be alone since he seemed so upset. But if he was about drink in a pissed off mood, Annette would rather keep an eye on him. “Yeah, sure,” she quickly confirmed, feeling as if she took too long to answer, Calum may change her mind.

He waited as she stood up and pulled her jacket back on, grabbing her bag as she followed him out of the cafe. It was chilly, unsurprisingly, as they stepped onto the sidewalk and began making their way down, but Annette was quick to realize they weren’t walking in the direction of the bar they’d been at a week ago.

She eyed Calum as he walked along next to her, just a subtle pace ahead due to his longer legs, his dark eyes staring straight ahead as they went. Annette hesitated on opening her mouth but after they walked a few blocks in nothing but silence save for the buzz of the city around them, she slowly asked, “We’re not going to Mack’s?”

Calum licked his teeth. “If I go to a bar I’m gonna blow all my money. Better to raid my own supply,” he answered steadily, eyes shifting to glance down at her. “You cool with that?”

Annette raised her eyebrows as a way of agreeing. “Yeah, ’course.”

So she stayed quiet as she followed Calum through the city, finally reaching the apartment complex after they walked a few blocks, took a subway ride, and then walked another two blocks. The entire time, Calum had remained silent and Annette kept her arms crossed as every step closer they got to his place, the more she wondered if it was a good idea to go with him—if he even still wanted her to come along. He was clearly not in a good mood and Annette wasn’t sure if he still wanted her company, but she stayed silent. After all, Annette was still kind of wanted to keep an eye on him if he was about to drink.

Her body felt tense with nerves as they stood in the elevator, side by side in complete silence, until they stopped in front of a door that Calum unlocked and opened. He stepped in behind her, flicking on a switch to light up the living room, and Annette took in the dark grey couch facing a TV, windows not quite floor to ceiling but large enough to provide optimal natural light if the blinds weren’t drawn. It was an open plan kitchen and hallway leading towards the bedroom, probably, and Annette admired the apartment. It was simple, with hints of personal touches like concert posters and a shelf full of books and records in the corner, along with a bunch of plants placed strategically.

The sound of keys clattering startled Annette, head turning to see Calum’s hand retract from a small table behind the couch where he’d dropped his keys. She felt awkward, no doubt, given that this was her first time at Calum’s place, as Calum shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it to the couch before making his way towards the kitchen.

He cast her a look as he went. “Whiskey?”

She followed him with her eyes before pulling out of the brief trance and shrugging off her own jacket. She followed him. Annette wasn’t entirely sure if she’d regret this, but she didn’t quite care in the moment. “Sure.”

The apartment was silent save for the clinking of the Jim Beam bottle and glasses Calum pulled out, placing them on the counter. It was a full bottle, untouched, and Annette felt an uneasy twist of her stomach at the thought of Calum potentially wanting to finish it all tonight. Had his conversation with Liana really affected him so much?

Annette kept her gaze on him, noting his features completely void of any expression as he uncapped the bottle and poured some in each glass. He lifted one of them, dark eyes finally meeting Annette’s light ones as he held the glass out to her expectantly. She took it, offering a small smile as she found herself asking, “What’re we toasting to?”

Calum paused, lips parting to roll his lower one in, tongue swiping over it as his gaze averted thoughtfully, free hand braced on the counter. Then a wry smile curled at his lips, head tilting as his eyes met Annette’s, the sarcasm in both his gaze and voice as he declared, “To being emotionally unavailable.”

That was not at all what she was expecting. Annette looked at him, eyebrows raised in bewilderment as Calum flashed her a derisive smile while clinking their glasses and taking a sip of his drink. But Annette kept staring, wondering why the hell Calum would say something like that—and the way he said it, too. Like he was mocking someone else’s words, ready to spit on them and shove them back in the face of whoever had uttered them.

And she watched as Calum downed the contents of his glass, throat working as he swallowed and sucking in a breath through his teeth as he eyed the now empty glass. “Right, come on,” Calum spoke up, looking at Annette as he grabbed for the bottle with his free hand and walked around the counter. He jutted his chin. “Let’s plant that image of me watching The Great British Baking Show in your head.”

“Uh—” Annette sounded, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. She frowned briefly. “Okay,” she finished slowly as she turned and followed him.

They settled on the couch as calum turned on the TV, and Annette sipped at her whiskey as Calum switched to Netflix. The sweet mixed with smokey taste tickled her throat as Calum played the first episode of one of the seasons.

Annette tried not to think of how. . . Strange this was. She hadn’t exactly planned on watching some baking show while drinking whiskey in Calum’s apartment, and yet here she was, wondering how the hell she ended up here. It didn’t help that Calum’s words were swimming around in her head, drowning out the sound of the TV as she wondered why he toasted to being emotionally unavailable.

They were silent, much like they had been since they left Blue’s, the only sounds emitting from their surroundings as the hum of the city was replaced by the TV. Annette watched Calum from the corner of her eye, sipping her drink and feeling it run smoothly down her throat once she grew used to the taste. He watched the show, slouched on the couch as he sipped from his own glass and kept his gaze glued on the TV, curls brushing across his forehead that Annette itched to push away.

She had so many questions.

But for now, she finished her drink, licking her lips and taking a breath before holding her empty glass out to Calum. He looked at her and then at the glass, lips quirking with a small grin she hadn’t seen since Liana had showed up, a sight that almost jump started her heart, and poured her some more whiskey.

*****

Annette wasn’t really drunk, but saying she was a hundred percent sober would be a lie. She felt slightly lighter than before, laying on the couch with her head resting on the armrest and knees bent so her legs didn’t go over Calum’s lap. He was still in the same position as they had started, slouched on his head of the couch, only this time he was hugging the now empty bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, startling Annette as she lifted her head to look at him. Calum was pointing to the TV, eyes wide and lips curling into a wide grin as he waved his hand in such a comical way that Annette couldn’t keep in her amused laugh. “Her biscuit tower fell! She’s fucked!”

Her gaze returned to the TV where a contestant’s tower of biscuits did, in fact, fall over as she scrambled to race against the clock to correct the mistake, and Annette couldn’t keep her laughter in because of Calum’s overreaction, too drunk to keep himself quiet as he guffawed. She watched him, feeling the giggles come a lot easier now that there was some alcohol in her, admiring the flush of his cheeks due to the entire bottle he’d finished after she only had about three glasses.

Annette wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been at Calum’s apartment, laying on his couch and watching British people make baked goods as he let out drunken comments and laughs every now and again. When Annette had told him she couldn’t find an image in her head of him watching this show, she’d been right; but now, all she could see was Calum dropping comments of dough not proven for long enough or cakes that looked like a toddler iced them. And it was hilariously unexpected, bringing a lightness to her chest every time he said something. Clearly he spent some time watching the show, and it only kind of made Annette’s heart beat for him a little faster.

When she checked her phone, she sucked in a breath to see that it was almost one in the morning, and if she hoped to wake up for her nine o’clock shift tomorrow, she needed to head home now. So Annette sighed as she blinked slowly, a mixture of slight tipsiness and sleepiness as she pushed herself into a sitting position, running her fingers through her blonde hair to push it back.

“I should head home,” she said, her voice soft against the TV as she shifted to get her feet to touch the ground. Her sneakers were next to the couch as she bent to grab them and shove her feet inside.

“Already?” Calum shifted next to her, sitting up and Annette looked at him, feeling her heart jump at the frown lowering his eyebrows and pout on his full lips to go with the whine he’d spoken with.

Letting out a gentle laugh, Annette responded, “I’ve been here for four hours, Calum. It’s time for bed.”

“Well,” he dragged out the word as he looked around for the remote before finding it and pausing the show, shoulders slumped as he asked her sadly, “why don’t you sleep here? It’s late and—”

“I’ve got work early tomorrow,” Annette told him, her voice kind and heart warm at his offer. God, she’d stay here any other day. But neither of them were completely sober, and work the next day really was killing the mood. The way Calum was pouting at her, drunken and adorable, wasn’t at all helping her in any way, working against her to make her want to stay. But she couldn’t. She’d stayed to make sure he was alright, and while he was drunk, he seemed to be okay. Maybe she’d tell Luke to check on him tomorrow. “I’ll take an Uber. I don’t live far from here anyway.”

Annette stood up, blinking once as she made sure she had her footing, the lightheadedness present from the whiskey. Shrugging on her jacket, she pulled her hair from under the collar and looked down at Calum to see him staring up at her. His dark eyes were glazed over, cheeks and nose flushed cutely, and the sudden urge to kiss him that overcame Annette threatened to rob her of her breath. She needed to get out of here.

“Text me when you get home?” Calum questioned as he stood, and he had less balance than Annette, unsurprisingly, as he let out a quiet whoa with raised eyebrows as he dropped the empty bottle on the couch and grabbed the back of it to keep himself upright.

Annette let out a laugh as she began making her way towards the door, Calum right behind her once he got his footing. “Will you be awake when I do?” she questioned teasingly after opening the door, stepping into the hall, and turning around to face him with a raised eyebrow.

Calum let out a scoff of a laugh—was it a scoff? He almost blew a raspberry—as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe—whether it was just an absent action or because he couldn’t keep himself upright, Annette wasn’t sure. Being a bit tipsy was inhibiting her ability to read people. Still, she admired how fucking good he looked in his simple black full sleeved shirt, the fabric of it straining against his biceps since his arms were crossed, and across his chest.

“For you?” Calum questioned as a response to hers, raising his eyebrows as a lazy, boyish grin lifted at his lips. It was a smile that easily had Annette’s heart jumping to her throat, though it didn’t compare to the way a glint danced across his dark eyes when he finished with a factual, “Of course.”

Her cheeks flushed, warmer than the whiskey ever made her as she ducked her head, fighting off a smile, and Calum grinned at her reaction. He tilted his head, leaning it against the doorframe as he watched her, his gaze burning into her wonderfully. When Annette looked back at him, at the relaxed features he was finally expressing and the easy, yet drunken, smile on his lips, she suddenly felt the question that had been nagging her fall at the tip of her tongue.

She wanted to keep it in, to not ruin the moment, but Annette crossed her own arms across her chest and gently asked, “What was that about being emotionally unavailable, Calum?”

There had been no lead up or preemptive move before she voiced that question, but Annette had been keeping it in since the moment Calum had made that toast. Her curiosity itched at her, and with the bit of whiskey running through her veins, it gave Annette enough of an excuse to finally utter it.

She watched as Calum registered her question before his eyes closed, lips lifting into a smile as he let out another scoff while ducking his head. He looked at her once he straightened, curls once again falling over his forehead, and Annette was surprised there was no trace of the dry, humorless smile that had been on his face when he made that toast.

Instead, Calum returned to leaning his head against the doorframe, looking down at her shorter figure with a reminiscent smile on his face. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that allowed Calum to so easily confess, “Liana and I dated for a while and, uh, broke up five months ago because, according to her, I was too emotionally unavailable to be in a relationship with her. So she found someone who was.”

He ended with a single shrug and a roll of his eyes, but Annette frowned as she saw past that mask. She had figured there was some kind of romantic past between the two of them, but to see Calum still hurt about it had her biting the inside of her cheek, empathizing with him. She imagined being told that you weren’t emotionally attached to your significant other by them couldn’t have been easy, and Annette’s chest tightened for him. And as she watched Calum drop his gaze to the doorframe where his nail was scratched at it, arms still crossed, Annette knew Calum probably felt dumb for being upset about it. But she wanted to tell him he was right to. Him being upset was justified, in her opinion. She didn’t like seeing him like this.

“For what it’s worth,” Annette spoke up, her voice quiet and soft, eyes on him even though he was avoiding her gaze. The tall, broad man in front of her looked small as he tried to hide behind an invisible wall, like he was ashamed of having feelings. Ashamed of being the opposite of the very thing he’d been accused of. So she spoke gently, honestly, in the silence of the late hour. “I think if you’re capable of writing those beautiful songs and singing them with the kind of passion you do, then there’s no way you’re emotionally unavailable.”

The pure honesty in her words had Calum lifting his head, brown eyes finally meeting her bluish-brown ones as he ceased picking at the door frame, and Annette kept the kind smile on her lips as she noted the whirlwind of emotions that flashed across his pretty eyes. She saw them under the glaze of the alcohol as he gazed at her, the sleepiness from the alcohol disappearing for a moment to be replaced with an appreciation for her and her words.

Her statement was followed by a silence that settled upon them like a blanket, and Annette could feel the way the two of them were drawing close to one another under the shelter of it. Their movements were gradual, eyes locked and hearts thundering the closer they got.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Annette could hear a voice telling her to stop; to pull back and turn and leave, but she was quick to shush it. This may be a bad idea, but she didn’t care all too much in this moment. She wanted to ignore her head and listen to her heart, wanted to let her body draw near Calum’s as every second went back, hoping the whiskey in her veins didn’t cause her to lose her balance.

As soon as Annette’s gaze dropped from Calum’s, his dark eyes only alluring her more, and flickered to his lips, there was no going back. Because suddenly she was feeling Calum’s hands cradling her jaw, thumbs on her cheeks as he tilted her head up enough to capture her lips with his in a surprisingly tender kiss. Annette’s eyes slipped shut instantly, her hands gently grasping his wrists as she slowly moved her lips with Calum’s, the sensation of his savoringly sucking on her lower lip sparking a fire in her fueled blood that she voiced through a satisfied hum.

It was a slow kiss, getting to know the feel of one another’s lips as the faint taste of whiskey danced on their tongues and Calum’s touch burned wonderfully at Annette’s skin. She callouses of his thumbs were nothing compared to the warmth his touch provided, or the electricity shocking Anette to her very core as Calum kissed her tenderly.

They pulled away moments later, not because they wanted to but because they had to, air becoming a necessary evil. The kiss ended but their lips dragged against one another’s, noses fitting together and foreheads pressed as Annette kept her eyes closed. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart, feel Calum against her, and inhale the delicious scent of his woodsy, summery cologne and something else that was just him and maybe even more inviting. Annette had no idea what the hell just happened, but she was glad it did.

She couldn’t stay though, no matter how much she wanted to. She needed to go home and maybe think of what she’d just done on the drive back, and maybe hope that the tingling sensation of her lips never went away as she found herself squeezing Calum’s slender wrists under her grasp. “Um.” Annette let out a short, breathless laugh, lips curled into a flustered grin and squeezing her closed eyes before opening them. Her gaze immediately went to Calum’s lips, the ones she’d just kissed, the urge to do so again rushing back powerfully. Annette took a breath as Calum brushed his nose against hers, humming quietly in response, as she finally found the reluctant words, “I should go.”

Against her, Calum brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. His voice was low with an enticing rasp as he responded, “Sounds like a terrible idea.”

Annette let out another breathless giggle as her hands dropping from his wrists and lowered to where his arms were bent at his elbows. Somehow, she found it in herself to pull away, head tilting back ever so slightly to look at him, stomach twisting happily to see his brown eyes already looking at her. She couldn’t be entirely sure if he was looking at her so adoring because he truly meant it or because he was drunk, but Annette didn’t want to ruin the moment by thinking about it. God, she needed to go.

“I’ll, uh, text you when I get home?” Annette responded, her words coming out as a question as she peered up at him, unsure if the offer still stood.

“Please.” He sounded far too earnest for someone who was drunk, and it didn’t make falling for him any harder.

Annette reluctantly pulled away from him, hands dropping from him as he did the same, gazing licking as she offered him a smile. Calum returned it, boyish and lazy, as he crossed his arms over his chest like he didn’t know what to do with them now that his hands weren’t on her.

He watched her go, and Annette could feel his gaze burning into her back as she approached the elevator at the end of the short hall. It opened up right away, and when she stepped in and turned around, her heart jumped at the sight of Calum, leaning out of his doorway to keep his eyes on her. She saw him grin, raising his hand in a two finger salute as the doors slid closed, and Annette desperately wanted to pry them open and go back to Calum.

Trying to figure out if that was just a drunken kiss or if it meant something would only dampen her mood. So Annette put it of her mind, and only focused on the way her lips still tingled and burned from Calum’s own. The smile remained on her face her entire journey home, practically permanently glued when she texted Calum she reached safely, as promised, and he returned it with a semi coherent Good. Night, doll.

*****

“Your two favorite people are right here. What do you keep looking at your phone for, Hemmings?”

Calum’s tease received an absent smile from Luke, though it faltered quickly as a worried expression crossed over his face and he placed his phone on the table. “Just checking in on Annette,” he sighed, leaning back and propping his elbow on the armrest of his chair, running his hand down his face.

Upon noticing Luke’s expression, and hearing his words, the smile on Calum’s face lessened as his eyebrows drew together, gaze flickering over to Sierra. His confusion grew when he saw the understanding expression on her face, and Calum sat up as he looked at Luke sitting diagonal of him. “Is she okay?” he asked, wondering what could prompt Luke to want to check in on her.

Luke’s blue eyes met Calum’s brown, the hesitation that crossed over his face only making Calum anxious as he frowned impatiently. “It’s just—it’s a tough day for her,” Luke answered, hand running through his blonde curls, a nervous habit of his. When he took in the look Calum was giving him, wanting an explanation, Luke held back the ill-timed yet absent chuckle that almost threatened to escape him. Calum’s interest in Annette was obvious, was endearing, which was why Luke found himself admitting, “It’s the anniversary of her parents’ death.”

The expression on Calum’s face went from blank to disbelieving in under a second, Luke’s words registering a bit too painfully in his head. Painfully because it was unexpected and because once Calum understood the heavy weight behind them, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach for Annette. For a split, desperate second Calum was hoping Luke was delivering the punch line of a sick joke, but the somber expression on his face—and on Sierra’s—told Calum his best friend’s words were that of a sad, horrible truth.

He stared at Luke, incredulous and bewildered, eyebrows drawn together in a frown over widened eyes as he tried to make sense of what he’d just been told. The busy hum of the restaurant the three of them were in dissipated as a flurry of thoughts whirled in Calum’s head, driven by disbelief and even a hint of panic. Annette’s parents were dead and Calum had no idea.

Not that he had any business in knowing, because as much as this newfound information shocked him and even had his heart dropping, what astounded Calum even more was Annette herself. This girl who was kind of shy but had the prettiest, infectious smile had suffered a loss Calum couldn’t ever imagine going through. Of course he didn’t expect her to walk around advertising the painful fact, but knowing Annette carried something as heavy as that with her and didn’t let it show made his throat tighten.

Calum cared for her, more than he thought he would when they first met, his feelings for her growing unexpectedly and out of left field. Annette drew him in after Calum got his head out of his ass and started hanging out with her, getting to know her and her taste for weird colored drinks. She was quiet but chatted when she was comfortable, much like Calum, and the more he hung out with her, the more he realized how easy and effortless it was with Annette.

So effortless that Calum had no idea he was falling for her until the alcohol in his system pushed him far enough to kiss her. The fact that she reciprocated was thrilling.

At a loss for words, Calum licked his lips, throat dry as he asked Luke with his gaze dropping to the blonde’s phone, “Did she reply?”

The corner of Luke’s lips lifted as he disgruntledly clicked his tongue. “Yeah, she said she just got back from Jersey and was home now. Says she’s fine but, y’know, I’m worried.”

“Ten years,” Sierra murmured and Calum’s eyes drifted to her. Her dark eyed gaze was on the table absently, a sympathetic furrow in her eyebrows for the woman they were all talking about. Sierra pressed her lips together and gave a dejected shake of her head, finally looking at the two men as she let out a sigh. “That’s a big one.”

Calum barely knew Annette for ten weeks, yet he felt the powerful urge to be able to ease the ten years worth of pain she was probably going through.

Which is why after his late lunch with Luke and Sierra, he found himself standing in front of the dark green door of Annette’s apartment, lips rolled into his mouth as he debated on knocking. He’d texted her after he left the restaurant, his two messages of Are you home? and Luke told me being responded with Yeah, come over?

Now he was there, willing himself to knock. The last time Calum had seen Annette was two days after they’d kissed, and that was also two days ago. They were busy with work and school, and although they hadn’t seen each other, that didn’t mean they didn’t speak. It was as if nothing between them had changed when they texted, but there was an undertone present that reminded them of that moment at Calum’s door—as if they could forget.

Calum certainly couldn’t. He swore he could still feel the softness of Annette’s lips against his, taste the combination of whiskey and her watermelon flavored chapstick that he yearned for again. Kissing Annette had been an impulsive, drunken decision but it was not one he regretted. If anything, the alcohol pushed him to do something Calum had subconsciously been wanting to do for a while. Seeing Liana led him to wanting a drink, which turned into drinking a whole bottle of whiskey, which eventually led to him kissing Annette.

Seeing his ex hadn’t been the highlight of his day, but saying the day ended on a better note would be an understatement.

Standing in front of Annette’s door, though, Calum knew he didn’t want anything from her right now. He just wanted to be there for her. She may not have asked him to, and he feared he was imposing, but he cared about her in a way that tightened his throat at the thought of her hurting. Calum just wanted to offer any kind of help she may need. He wanted to try.

The door opened after his knuckles rapped against it twice, and Calum was greeted by the sight of Annette, his heart jumping into his throat. Her thick blonde hair was down in its loose waves, looking adoringly comfortable in an oversized sweater ready to swallow her with its sleeves too long and leggings underneath. Calum gazed at her, taking in intricate eyes and the long lashes framing them, as well as how her entire face had a flush to it. She’d been crying.

“Hey,” she greeted, and Calum felt the air rush out of his lungs as her lips quirked into a small smile. He didn’t want her to smile if she didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want her to smile at his expense. But he squashed that last thought when Annette’s eyes showed some relief, and she let go of the door knob when Calum took a step forward and lifted her arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He got the message instantly, pulling her in for the hug she was looking for with his arms around her shoulders, feeling Annette’s wrap around his torso. Her fruity scent enveloped him invitingly and Calum pressed his cheek to the top of her head, feeling her own press against his chest and her hands on his back. They held each other close, soaking in the other’s warmth, and Calum’s eyes slipped shut as he physically felt Annette let out a breath, the tension in her body seeming to release with it as she melted into him, the heaviness of her day, her life, weighing against her.

Annette’s voice was small, muffled against the material of his sweatshirt as she said, “I’m probably not the best company right now.”

Calum let out a gentle scoff, arms still around her securely, as he assured, “I’ll be here anyway.”

They eventually ended up on the carpeted floor of her living room, settled on the floor cushions with each of them nursing a cup of tea. Colin wasn’t home, the two of them having the apartment to themselves, the windows closed to keep the heat in as well as the noise of the city outside. It was quiet in the apartment, the only sound coming from the consistent ticking of the clock on the wall near the TV and the occasional clinks of Calum’s rings hitting the ceramic mug every time he adjusted his grip.

“I didn’t think I’d cry a lot today.” Annette’s voice was gentle, not quite shattering the silence but pushing through it. Calum glanced at her, sitting right next to him with their backs against the couch, but her head was slightly bowed and gaze was on her mug of tea. He saw the way the corner of her lips tilted, the smile humorless and not at all fitting her. “But ten years. . . It’s big, isn’t it? Feels like a lifetime.”

Calum stayed quiet, because she needed this. She wanted to talk and he wanted to listen.

“The first couple of years were awful, y’know?” she continued after drawing a breath, lips twisting to the side. “I was the angriest teen you’d meet.” Annette let out a short laugh at that, casting a glance at Calum, noting the attentive way he was listening, never looking away. She looked ahead, his gaze weighing on her comfortingly. “I was pissed that it was my parents who got killed in a car accident and that I had to live with my aunt and uncle and everything was screwed up. Twelve year old me was pissed and over the past few years, I decided I didn’t ever wanna feel like that again. Life was too damn short to stay feeling that way.”

Annette paused as she inhaled deeply, the tendons in her neck tensing as she blinked a few times, and Calum knew her to be fighting back tears. His eyebrows drew together as he watched her keep herself together, wanting to tell her it was okay if she couldn’t. Instead he rested his mug in the space between his thighs and reached his left hand over, grasping onto Annette’s right as he laced their fingers together. She looked down at the newfound source of warmth, a smile quirking at her lips.

“They missed out on so much,” she continued after swallowing with a quick frown. “Track meets, high school graduation, first love, first heartbreak, getting into college. All the things I took their presence in for granted and it hurt every time I went through those things and they weren’t there to support me but it got easier over time. But—” Her throat was tight, voice straining to fight through the emotions closing her up, and Calum felt the subtle burn in his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional guy other than on paper, but watching Annette reminisce the loss of her parents sent a shocking stab of pain throughout his body he hadn’t expected. It hurt seeing her hurt. She squeezed his hand, and he was quick to return the gesture. “Realizing it’s been an entire decade since they’ve passed is kind of. . . It’s unreal. And I hate that it just. . . Isn’t unreal.”

In that moment, Calum felt as though he understood Annette just a little bit better. Understood why she was always smiling and why she didn’t look like the kind of person who got pissed off easily—why she forgave him so quickly instead of being turned off by his behavior at first. She’d spent too long being angry and upset—rightfully so—that she minimized those kind of emotions in other circumstances where she knew she’d be better off just letting it go. The world was trying enough to give someone plenty of reasons to be angry; why hold onto shit that didn’t matter in the long run?

“Holding onto anger like that is exhausting,” Annette spoke up, an airy laugh escaping her as she did so, turning her head to look at him with that same smile she always wore, though this time a hint of sadness curved at her lips, accompanying the tired look in her bluish-brown eyes. Her long eyelashes seemed damp with tears. She offered a single shouldered shrug. “And holding grudges over the smaller shit doesn’t help anyone. When you allow yourself to move on from the little things, it kind of gives you room to make your way through the pain that feels like it’s always holding you back.” The something crossed across her glassy eyes, something akin to sheepishness that Calum caught before Annette quickly dropped her gaze back down to the mug. Quietly, she added in a mumble, “I probably sound stupid.”

“Nope.” Calum shook his head, instantly killing that train of thought before it could go off the rails. With his free hand, he moved aside his mug so he could shift his body to face him. He made sure Annette’s mug was out of the way as well as he grabbed onto her other hand, getting her to look at him. Calum’s expression was serious, but kind as he admired the softness of her skin touching his. “Saying you sound stupid is not giving yourself any credit for how strong you are. I can’t imagine going through a loss like that at the age you did.” He noted the way her lower lip trembled at her words, though she offered a grateful smile, and Calum squeezed her hands. “Your parents would be proud of you for pushing through, Annie.”

Something flashed across her eyes just then, something nostalgic and sad as her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly and a small smile curled at her lips. She looked down at their joined hands and let out a breathless puff of laughter. “No one’s called me that since my parents passed. They were the only ones who called me Annie.”

The guilt twisted at Calum’s gut as he tried to pull back, lips parting as he took a breath. “Oh—I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no,” Annette was quick to soothe, looking up at him with a smile lighter than the ones from before, this one not carrying the pain of her parents’ memory. It was a real Annette smile, the kind that rendered him breathless. She averted her gaze briefly before shyly murmuring, “I like when you say it.”

Her words had Calum smiling in return, seeing a glimpse of the shy and adoring girl he’d come to know, but this wasn’t about Annette making him smile. It was meant to be the other way around. So he tried in the best way he knew how.

“You know what else I know that you like?” Calum asked, raising an eyebrow as a smile quirked at the corner of his lips. Annette sniffled, tears gone and cheeks flushed, as she raised her eyebrows in question. His smile was gentle, kind, voice a soothing murmur as he let go of one of her hands to push some locks of blonde hair behind her ear. The back of Calum’s finger grazed along her cheek as he tilted his head down at her, soft gaze on her as he said, “I know you like it when I sing.”

Annette seemed to understand exactly where Calum was going with this, forehead smoothing out as the grateful smile on her lips returned, chest sinking as she let out a quiet laugh that Calum wanted to hear more of. He easily mirrored her smile, glad to see some of that light return in her eyes, as he briefly cupped her cheek before whispering, “Come on.” His words were followed by Calum shifting them, arms wrapping around Annette and pulling her into his chest, back against him. His arm was loosely across her collarbones and Annette held his arm in her hands and settled against him, feeling the line of his jaw against her temple as his other arm settled across her waist. His warmth against her had an instant reaction from Annette, relaxing her, and Calum brushed his lips against her temple before asking, “Any requests?”

Annette hummed, happy and comfortable, as her fingers tapped against his arm. “Are we talking originals?”

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against Annette. Calum couldn’t help but think how comfortable he was here, with Annette in his arms, her body providing more warmth than the tea. He was engulfed in her just like she was embraced by him and Calum was realizing, without pause, there was no other place he’d rather be. “We’re talkin’ anything you want, sweetheart.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “That one song you had. . . It was really pretty. Uh. . . Waste The Night.”

Calum grinned, lips brushing against her temple once more. “Got it,” he said,taking a breath before he began singing the familiar sound. For the first time, Annette heard Calum just as him; just his voice, with no instruments nor the accentuating of a microphone. And it made this day a little bit easier.

*****

There was a regular customer at Blue’s who, upon sight, brought a grin onto Calum’s face without even trying. Whether it was when he was seated at a table and heard the jingle of the bell and saw her walk in, or when he was on stage and her face stood out in the small crowd—Calum’s eyes found hers and the smile she brought out was one he couldn’t ever hope to stop. It felt different. It felt good.

It was noticeable, the change in him, how the smile came more easily to his face when Annette was around. To the point where the employees at Blue’s noticed and made comments about it and instead of rolling his eyes. . . It only widened Calum’s smile more. And it felt real. He felt like himself before Liana and the heartbreak. He felt happy and good and it all had to do with Annette making him the happiest he could be for the past three months.

Stepping off the small stage at Blue’s, Calum took a minute to put his guitar back in its case before picking it up and walking over to the pretty girl sitting at one of the back tables, a smile on her face as he approached her. “Hey,” he greeted her with a grin, resting his guitar on the floor and leaning it against the table. Calum ducked to press a quick kiss to Annette’s lips, pulling away and standing straight as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Annette hummed, shooting him a teasing smile as she leaned back in her seat. “Because no one volunteers to work on New Years Eve.”

Calum scoffed with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “This doesn’t even count as work,” he pointed out, earning a light laugh from her. His gaze then dropped to the table and Calum smiled as he gestured to the cup. “And look, you even got your froo-froo drink!”

“Stop,” Annette pouted at him before breaking out into a grin as Calum shook his head with his own, the smile bringing out those adorable crinkles she loved. “Are you ready to go? We still have to get ready for Ashton’s party.”

“Yeah, let me go to the bathroom real quick,” Calum said and Annette nodded as he turned and went, disappearing towards the back of the cafe to where the bathrooms were.

She waited for him while busying herself on her phone, thought it was short lived when a voice spoke up, “I didn’t think he was capable of still smiling like that.”

Annette looked up, gaze landing on the woman standing by the table, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried to place the vaguely familiar face. It clicked suddenly as the crease in Annette’s forehead smoothed, realizing the woman who had spoken was Liana, Calum’s ex who’d told him, once upon a time, he was emotionally unavailable.

He’s told her about Liana, about how she’d found comfort and solace with some other guy when she was still with Calum. She reasoned that it was because she was lonely, because Calum wasn’t as invested in her and their relationship as she was, and maybe Calum should’ve tried harder, but it also didn’t give her a reason to run into the arms of someone else.

Annette had been angry on Calum’s behalf. But being with him now. . . Liana couldn’t have been more wrong about him.

Keeping her tone kind, as it always was, Annette responded, “He’s always been capable.” She reached for her drink. “It probably just took the right person to bring it out,” Annette added lightly, taking a sip of her iced tea through the straw.

Glancing up, Annette took in the way Liana raised her eyebrows at Annette’s sweetly delivered snide comment. She felt her heart jump a bit, not entirely one to make remarks like such directed at someone, but Annette wasn’t going to let Calum’s ex talk rudely about him to his back—to his girlfriend. Especially when Annette knew how much Liana hurt him, and while Calum got some great songs out of that heartbreak, it was something she uselessly wished she could’ve protected him from.

Annette wasn’t one to hold onto anger, but she was definitely capable of telling someone to fuck off—albeit, more kindly.

Trying to recover, Liana let out a forced chuckle. “It was just a joke.”

Annette pursed her lips, the sweet taste of her drink lingering on her tongue as she clicked it. “Oh, but it wasn’t.” She was surprised at herself for not feeling intimidated by the woman standing in heels over her seated figure, easily looking up at Liana with a cool expression. Surprised and proud of herself. “You don’t mess with someone and play it off as a joke. Especially if you see them better off afterwards.” One corner of her lip quirking up into an empty smile, Annette offered a single shrug as she added, “They’re happier despite what you did, not because of it.”

Liana looked disgruntled at Annette’s words, lips parting and eyebrows drawing together as she tried to find the right words to respond with. Annette doubted she had them. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not,” Annette agreed with a nod, her eyes on Liana’s. “But Calum’s told me enough.” Annette’s eyes glanced towards the back of the cafe, hoping Calum didn’t come out just yet. “And from what he’s said to me, I know it’d be better if he didn’t see you.”

She kept her gaze steady with Liana’s, not letting the other woman intimidate her. Annette couldn’t entirely believe the way she’d spoken, but when it came to Calum, Annette couldn’t seem to shut up. Defending him came naturally, easily, and she didn’t regret a single word that left her during that conversation. And she let Liana know that with the cool, unwavering look she was giving her.

Of course, Liana didn’t seem to appreciate it. She lifted her shoulders, as if giving herself a backbone, probably feeling good about having to literally look down at Annette, not that that made Annette feel small. In this moment, she wasn’t. With a sneer, Liana said, “Hope his feelings don’t crap out on him again. He can be dysfunctional that way.”

Annette clenched her jaw at that, quite literally having to bite her tongue from snapping back at the brunette who was now walking away. But Annette was quick to calm herself down as she released a breath through her nose. The playlist Calum made for her for Christmas, all consisting of new songs he’d written, all about her, and recorder for her to listen to, would easily prove Liana wrong. But that was for Annette to enjoy.

She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling until Calum was in front of her, tugging at the hem of his leather jacket as he raised an eyebrow at her. “What’re you smiling at, weirdo?”

With a laugh and a roll of her eyes, she shook her head and stood up. “Nothing. Just excited about this party,” she dismissed, feeling a calmness settle over her as Calum grabbed his guitar case and allowed his free arm to rest over her shoulders.

Hours later, Annette stood by the large windows of Ashton’s living room, her eyes taking in the city before them past the reflection of the inside of the apartment where the lights were on and people were mingling. The entire city was partying—it was damn near hell getting from her apartment to Ashton’s since everyone was headed to Times Square—but Annette appreciated being in the warmth and comfort of the apartment than the bitter cold of New York. She also enjoyed watching the vague flurries of snow falling from the sky, high above the skyscrapers around them.

As she swallowed her sip of whatever fruity, alcoholic mixed drink Luke had concocted, Annette felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a somewhat scruffy chin deliciously scraping against the skin of her neck. “You good, Annie?” Calum’s deep, quiet voice questioned, keeping her back against his chest as his voice ran smoothly—she’d rather hear that than the music currently playing.

Annette leaned her head back, the smile quirking up her lips at him and the use of the nickname as she placed her left hand on top of both of his, right hand holding the cup. “Mhm,” she hummed, tilting her head slightly to press her lips in a quick kiss to his cheek. She loved kissing his cheeks. “How much longer until midnight?”

Calum hummed thoughtfully as he unwound one arm from around her, digging into his pocket to pull out his phone and bring it around so Annette could see the screen that read 11:58. Annette let out an excited, almost childlike gasp. “It’s almost time!”

Chuckling, Calum pressed his own lips to her jaw, widening Annette’s grin as she felt his scruff scratch against her some more, adding to the sensation of his soft lips. “Why do you think I came to find you?” She let out a light giggle, turning in his arms to face him, though Calum’s arms remained around her. Looking down at her, Calum tilted his head and asked, “So did you decide on your New Years’ resolution?”

“I did,” Annette grinned, the excited glint returning in her eyes as she practically bounced on her heel clad fleet, Calum’s grip on her keeping her in place as he let out a small whoa, eyeing her cup warily, though the smile remained present. Annette already knew of Calum’s resolution, since he’d told her yesterday, which was to secure a proper job at the label he currently had an internship at. Annette knew he could do it. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and she pressed a hand to his chest. “I think this is the year when I’m finally gonna pull out one of the thousands of ideas in my journal and write that damn book.” She poked him, shooting him a knowing, pointed look. “I’ve finally got some inspiration.”

Calum’s questioning raised eyebrows turned to surprised, excited ones that mirrored the brightness of Annette’s grin, her last comment sending his heart into a frenzy like she always did. The thrill she felt over her resolution brought a grin to Calum’s face, knowing that this was something she’s been wanting to do for a while, and planting the idea was the first step. “Seriously?” Calum grinned, widening so his crinkles appeared and he let out a delighted laugh. “Annie, that’s exciting, love.” He gave her a squeeze, eliciting a giggle. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” Annette repeated with a laugh, tilting her head as she gazed at him, eyes glinting. “I haven’t even started. It’s just a resolution for now.”

“It’s the first step,” he told her firmly, giving her a look that spoke of how much he believed in his words and, more importantly, in her. His grin returned. “I can’t wait to read your first draft.”

Annette scoffed. “No way. You’ll get the final one,” she told him. Calum’s pout and whatever he was about to say next was cut off when everyone started counting down from ten, the announcement of the countdown even beginning something that they both missed. She shot Calum a wink, something that only made him grin as she started, “Ten. . . Nine. . .”

Calum shot her a wry grin, though the amusement lit up his dark eyes as he joined in with a teasing roll of his eyes, his hands pressed to her lower back as everyone’s voices echoed throughout the apartment. The two of them remained by the windows, glancing around to see everyone watching the TV that was playing the ball drop happening live, but Annette had seen it all the time—had even gone to it once with Colin and a few friends, a time she didn’t like remembering because of the chaos—and she would much rather be looking at her stupidly gorgeous, talented boyfriend.

He gazed down at Annette, the boyish, easy grin on his face finding home whenever she was around. It wasn’t at all difficult for Calum to admit to himself how he felt around Annette; she had him wrapped around her finger, and often had him questioning how he even fucking functioned before her. Being with her felt as natural as breathing, and every time Annette walked into the room, it was like coming up for air. All he had to do now was let her know and, unsurprisingly, he wasn’t scared.

Five. Annette’s free hand reached up, brushing away a curl from Calum’s forehead, the smile on her face ever present.

Four. He adored the blue that was just on the outer edges of her otherwise light brown irises—Calum could never tire of looking at them, framed with long lashes, dancing with a glint he hoped to find the meaning behind.

Three. After she basically ate her lipstick off, Annette made sure to put on Calum’s favorite flavor of her chapstick—watermelon.

Two. His heart was thundering in his chest, the excitement of the moment getting to him. But Calum knew it mostly had to do with the woman in his arms. It was always because of her.

One. There was so much swimming in his eyes, Annette could tell. So much that was rendering her breathless.

“Happy New Year!”

Their grinning lips met as cheers surrounded them, the entire apartment—and city—bursting into celebration as Annette leaned into Calum and the feel of his soft lips against hers. His arms left her waist so his hands could gently cup her cheeks, keeping her close as they commemorated the new year together, both secretly hoping this was just the first of many. It had only been three months, but they were ready for more.

Calum pulled away slowly, forehead still against hers, deaf and uncaring to the party going on around them as the warm of her cheeks tingled at his skin. He opened his eyes, smiling when he noted Annette was already watching him through hooded ones of her own, and the sight of her eyes and dazed smile made it all the more easy for the words to honestly spill out. “I love you.”

It was there. It was out for her to do with as she pleased. Calum’s heart was thundering in his chest but it was for Annette to have, and he felt his stomach twist in mild nervousness as he waited for her response. She didn’t even have to say it back, Calum realized, as she stared at him with those pretty eyes taken over with shock and disbelief. As long as she knew how he felt about her, Calum was fine. Because he hadn’t been good at this in the past, hadn’t been vocal about his feelings enough. And he would be damned if he let the same mistakes get in the way of his relationship with Annette.

Slowly, a smile lifted her lips and Calum watched her, just an inch or so of space between them, hands still on her cheeks as a gentle laugh escaped her. She felt warm under his touch as she mused, “Starting the year off with a bang, huh?” Her words had Calum letting out a breathless laugh, the nervous tinge to it not lost on either of them, and Annette’s expression softened. She leaned forward, capturing his lips in another gentle, slow kiss that Calum savored, the tension in his stomach easing. He felt himself come undone when Annette whispered back, “I love you too, rockstar.”

She loved him too. He’d always been able to breathe easily around Annette. Now he felt like he was fucking flying.

Her use of the nickname accompanying the very words he wanted to hear her say had Calum letting out a relieved laugh, pulling his lower lip into his grinning mouth as he stared at Annette. She called him that as if he wasn’t just some local performer at some cafe in New York, but Calum would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. She made him feel important, and she made him want to be someone who was worthy of how she felt about him.

Annette loved him and he loved her. They’d become each other’s inspirations, unwittingly and unapologetically—and Calum was ready to prove he was worthy of that title for her just like she already was for him for as long as she’d allow him to.

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @livibii123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn @calumculture @sexgodashton

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 4 years ago

Text

Kitties Afoot

At some point, this started a discussion about Murderbot in the present as a cat. It has since become something else entirely, and I don’t regret a thing. So, I guess, stary kitty meets almost-stray human.

There’s more written, but I haven’t edited the rest and I’m not sure I trust Tumblr with anything longer.

I came home to find a giant, scrawny feline curled up on my front porch. The black and gray creature lay on top of the welcome mat with its paws tucked under its shivering body. It looked huge for a cat but not big enough for a mountain lion, and it didn’t look like a kitten. The strange animal was malnourished; as I approached, I could count the poor baby’s ribs with each shuddering breath it took.

“Shit,” I whispered and checked my phone.

It was well into the evening and getting colder outside with each passing moment. The kitty looked up when I got to my front steps. Bright blue eyes stared at me as the creature scrunched up, making itself as small as possible.

“Hey, it’s all right,” I said as soothingly as I could. “I won’t hurt you. Let me get you inside before the weather turns nasty.”

Not that I thought the cat would understand me, but I was used to talking to animals. Before Tasha had passed away earlier that year, I had always had pets at home. I’d spoken to the family dog as a child and to my ex-boyfriend’s two ferrets. And, of course, Tasha the Princess never shut up. Most days, I still woke up expecting to find her dozing on my head.

I set my backpack on the ground, slipped out of my sweater, and wrapped the warm clothing around the shivering kitty. It tried to claw me through the thick fabric but didn’t get very far, though I caught a good look at its sharp talons. I held it in my arms and did my best to navigate the front door. The cat must’ve weighed twenty pounds, but it was probably all muscle and grump.

Inside, I set it down on a folded blanket on the couch and went looking for a heating pad. September was a little early to be getting out the winter stuff. Still, the kitty wouldn’t stop shivering, and I wanted to warm it up as quickly as possible.

The furball stayed put and watched me from its new comfortable perch. Its sleek fur was pitch black, the color of raven wings, but its paws were gray, as was its stomach. I couldn’t tell if the cat was male or female, and I wasn’t going to peek between its legs to find out.

Once I had the heating pad in place, I put a couple of Tasha’s bowls on the coffee table and scooted the table right up to the couch. From here, the kitty had to only shift its weight to reach the water and wet cat food. Everything about the situation was weird, from the cat’s knowing glances to the constant reminders that Tasha was gone.

I scrolled through my contacts and found the phone number of a family veterinarian. It was too late to call Dr. Hopkins now, but I sent him a quick message and asked for an urgent appointment. If the kitty survived the night, and I had a sneaking suspicion the grumpy monster wasn’t going down without a fight, it would need medical attention.

The cat shifted restlessly on its pile of blankets, so I turned on the television. Tasha had loved those stupidly endless videos on YouTube where the camera was trained on a tree stump where birds came to feed. This cast couldn’t care less. It didn’t even notice the TV until I turned on a food documentary episode on Netflix.

I went to make myself a snack in the kitchen and noticed the cat half watching me and half paying attention to whatever it saw on the television. Like I said, weird cat.

My home is tiny, a two-story townhome with an unfinished basement that occasionally floods. I’d gotten lucky with the place; I’d been sharing it with a roommate who suddenly had to move cross-country, and she paid for her share of the mortgage for three months. And then I’d found a decent manager job at a local cafe that let me keep the place.

I hummed while puttering around the kitchen. It was too late for a proper dinner, and I wasn’t hungry anyway. And I couldn’t drink coffee that late in the evening, not if I planned to get any sleep. The kitty drank some water from the closest bowl and then closed its eyes.

Asleep, it could almost pass for a house cat.

Up close, though, there was no mistaking that it was a wild creature. Its ears followed my motions even while it dozed. I turned up the heater for the night and then sat on the other side of the couch, giving the strange feline plenty of space. To my surprise, it stretched out a bit once I was sitting down like it didn’t mind the company so long as said company kept a respectable distance.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but that’s where I woke up the following morning. I sat pressed against one of the couch’s plush arms, legs tucked under me. There was a blanket draped over me that I didn’t remember grabbing. The strange cat lay curled up a few inches from my left foot; I could swear it was purring slightly.

As soon as I moved, uncurling my stiff legs, it got up and jumped off the couch. Standing next to the coffee table, it was apparent just how big it was for a feline. It trotted over to the front door like it owned the place. Standing on its back paws, the cat had no trouble reaching the handle, though it didn’t have the thumbs needed to operate it.

I stood up, followed it, and opened the door for it. “You’re pretty smart for a kitty,” I said as it jumped out onto the front porch. “You gonna be OK, little guy?”

“Meow,” said the cat and vanished into the bushes next to the porch steps.

“Bye, kitty!”

I went back inside but didn’t close the front door. It seemed stupid in retrospect. What kind of person leaves the door open for anyone to stroll inside? But it was Friday and my one day off, so I made coffee in the kitchen and texted with my mother. And maybe hoped that my feline companion might return.

My mother lives halfway across the country in a memory care facility. I can’t say I love my mother — that would be a bald faced lie — but we still text occasionally. I know that my stepfather is taking good care of her, and I love him dearly.

That morning, she was showing off a watercolor painting that she’d created that week. She told me she’d never been to the beach before, and I had to put the phone down for ten minutes before I could answer. Mom and I had vacationed at the beach every year while Dad was still alive. She’d painted a sunset over those turbulent waters.

Sniffling, I cradled my mug and tried not to let the tears fall. I should’ve known better by then, but it still stung every time.

I was still struggling to keep my composure when I heard the sound of claws on the linoleum. Tasha had loathed coming into the kitchen because it wasn’t carpeted, and the drama queen just hadn’t liked the feel of it under her little kitty feet.

Giant Cat had no such compunctions. It stood a few feet out of reach, watching me with those soulful eyes until I had to look away. Sniffling, I rubbed at my face and forced myself to smile.

“Hey there, furball. Back for more food?”

“Meow.”

I opened a can of wet food — if I was going to feed this beast, I would need to get more immediately — and poured the contents into a bowl. After setting the bowl on the floor, I stepped away from it and perched on a counter, watching the cat.

I walked over to the bowl, sniffed at it a few times, and then devoured the food like it was starving. When it was done, it licked its lips and, in one mighty leap, jumped onto the counter. Where it sat down and nuzzled the toaster.

Tasha had never mastered the art of climbing on the furniture. Anything taller than a couch had warranted a loud, obnoxious mew until I came over and picked her up. Not this cat. It seemed perfectly capable of getting up to wherever the fuck it wanted.

“How about a trip to the vet?” I asked. “Just to make you’re not all scratched up inside.”

“Hiss,” said the cat.

I rolled my eyes and giggled. “Not a fan of vets, huh?”

“Hiss.”

“Right.” I finished my coffee in three big gulps. “Of course not. Though, to be honest, I’m not a huge fan of doctors, either.” Mom had seen so many doctors after she’d first gotten sick that I loathed the smell of disinfectant now.

Kitty jumped off the counter after sniffing at the coffee maker and my box of tea samples and went exploring. Like it owned the place, it wandered into the laundry room and then up the stairs into my bedroom. I rinsed out my coffee mug and followed it, curious to see what it might do next.

About half an hour later, the cat decided that it had sniffed at those things it deemed essential and returned to the living room. Hopping onto the couch, it settled on top of the blanket pile and stared between me and the television.

“Seriously?” I asked, choking back laughter.

I’d never heard of a cat that liked watching Netflix. Tasha had mostly enjoyed shows with bird noises or where things moved. Sometimes, the princess would randomly attack the TV like she hoped to catch whatever she was looking at. Meanwhile, this cat meowed at me unhappily when I turned on a bird video and didn’t stop until it saw the Netflix logo. Then, it focused on whatever action flick began playing and snuggled further into the warm blankets.

“Seriously,” I muttered again, quietly, and stood there by the banister, shaking my head.

My weird companion spent the next few hours chilling in front of the TV. Its ears would occasionally perk up when a truck passed by, but mostly it watched the show. Have you ever seen a cat watch television? Because, up until this point, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t sure what to think.

Doing chores proved somewhat tricky when I kept casting furtive glances toward the strange creature. It paid me no heed, but somehow, it seemed to know when I watched it with blatant curiosity. Like, my previous pets had been… pets. This hissy weirdo, meanwhile, was something else entirely.

Eventually, I decided that I needed to get groceries and more cat food, and generally get out of the house for a little while. During a nice, long shower, I convinced myself that I was crazy, and there was nothing weird about the kitty in my living room. Then, I came back downstairs and found the kitty nuzzling the TV remote and decided that I didn’t care.

“Wanna watch something else?” I asked.

The cat looked up at me. “Meow.”

It took me a moment to actually look at the TV and realize that the action movie had ended while I was upstairs. Kitty apparently just wanted something else to start playing. Right. Totally normal right there.

“I need to go out for a while,” I said while scrolling through the Netflix menus. The rest came out before I could think too hard about speaking to a wild animal. “I need to pick up groceries. And cat food. And honestly, I’ve worked twelve-hour shifts for the last week and a half, and I’m ready to see something other than more walls.

“So, let’s get something nice and long started, OK? So you don’t get bored while I’m out. I’m not too keen on leaving the front door open, but the back door’s not locked — I know, I know, bad habit — and you can probably just reach the handle. It’s the pull-down kind.”

“Meow.”

I turned on some kind of drama that promised at least fifteen hours of episodes. “Well, anyway. I’ll be back in a while. Tuna or chicken?”

“Meow meow.”

“Chicken it is.” I was still talking to a cat. Maybe I missed Tasha more than I’d thought. “See you later, kitty.”

#fanfic #of what i don't know #kitties afoot

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years ago

Text

Your ‘One’.

Description: You arrive back in New York after 4 years abroad, to attend your older brother, thee Tony Stark’s, birthday party. And just when you’d given up on ever finding your soulmate, he finally comes along.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 7,710 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: G.

Warnings: A couple swear words. And a few cheesy lines.

Requested: Yes, by the lovely, @ghostofthebarricade ! Who asked for a Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU, with the first words tattooed on their skin, and the reader being Tony‘s little sister. So here is it, I didn’t stick entirely to what you’d asked for, as I seem to be just horrible at doing that. But I truly hope you like it nonetheless! And I can’t wait to hear what you think!!! ♥️♥️♥️

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

2 posts in one day. Dang, I’m on a roll!

28 years. That’s how long you’ve been alive, how long you’ve been on this planet, and how long you’ve spent staring at these damn words just below your left clavicle. Always wondering when you’d finally hear them aloud, hear the voice that would speak them. Curious what the owner of that voice would look like, sound like, smell like, just be like. What their job would be, their family life, their hobbies and interests. Their whole personality.

Would they like animals just as much as you?—Who are you kidding, of course they would, they are your soulmate. Your other half in every way. The person you are meant to love unconditionally, the one you’d build a life with, and possibly have kids with, one day, maybe. The one you were going to grow old beside, hand in hand, and happily in love.

And yet, where was this person? 28 years you’d spent looking for them. Searching the world for the one whose soul matched yours, completed yours. Feeling like your life was paused, on hold if you will, until you finally found them. Until they stepped into your life for the very first time. Because basically everything up to that magical moment was just life filler. It was just passing the time, as your life couldn’t truly begin without them.

But the more that time ticked on, the more disgruntled you became. Maybe you didn’t actually have a soulmate? Maybe you were an anomaly. Maybe you just weren’t good enough for a soulmate. Maybe in a past life you’d done something to piss off the God’s and as punishment for that, you’d have to go a lifetime without a soulmate. Without someone to love you on the deepest, most spiritual level. Someone who would accept you for exactly as you are. And not only that, but they’d love you for it as well.

You had watched every person you knew growing up find their ‘one.’ And yet, you were still entirely alone. God, even your brother had found his soulmate already. Something you genuinely never thought possible. He was a playboy. A reckless party animal—Which, don’t get me wrong, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but still, you’d done everything right. You’d kept your virtue intact. Steered clear of trouble, as best you could. Gotten good grades in school. Gone to university. You’d tried to make something of yourself, so that when the time finally came, and you did meet the one, you’d be ready. You’d have your own accomplishments to show them. Things that they could be proud of you for.

But yet, still nothing. No soulmate in sight.

You believed wholeheartedly that you’d meet them in university, you swore up and down that you would. And you’d dreamt about that special moment often. Dreamt about meeting them on campus on the first day. Or at the library when you were trying to find a specific book. Or maybe somewhere in town, when you were looking for a coffee house or cafe. So many different scenarios ran through your head, constantly, but every single daydream had one thing in common. You being lost, somehow, somewhere.

“Ma’am, are you alright? Are you lost?”

You grazed the fingertips of your right hand over the fabric of your shirt, in the place where it currently covered the black cursive writing, just below your left clavicle, and sighed. Maybe this would be the year?

With a deep inhale you glanced out of the cab window and watched as you passed the massive skyscrapers. New York. The city you were born in, the one you grew up in, and the one you’d left behind in your search for your soulmate.

See, because you’d been so adamant that you’d meet your soulmate in university, when graduation day finally came around, you refused to think about it. Refused to give up hope. But then 2 weeks after uni ended, and you had to begin the mad job hunt, you had to finally acknowledge that you’d been wrong on that original idea. 100%. You would not, and did not, meet your soulmate in university.

And then as that vivid realization smashed through you, something in you sort of just, snapped. Something in you went off the deep end and you decided you needed a change. Needed something new. Something more. So you planned it out, and then sat your brother down and told him all about it.

You had decided to travel, to explore the world before you had to settle down and live the 9 to 5 life. You wanted adventure. You wanted experiences. You wanted to attempt to not only find yourself along the way, but maybe also find your soulmate.

So even though you did plan most of your trip to a T, you left a bunch of open time blocks. You left yourself multiple chances to just get lost. Entirely and completely.

Because the only way to truly find your other half, was to first lose yourself. At least that’s what the words on your left clavicle were telling you.

But then 4 years later, nothing. Still freaking nothing.

You’d damn near seen the whole freaking world in those 4 years. You’d been more places then you could count. You’d seen, experienced and lived so many amazing things.

You had red sand boarded in Vietnam. Bathed in the thermal pools of Pamukkale in Turkey. Smoked authentic Cuban cigars in Cuba—which didn’t go well, and ended in you damn near coughing up a lung, but you can at least say you’d done it. You’d learned to belly dance in Egypt. Got a selfie with a Quokka on Rottnest Island in Australia. Gone to Zao Fox Village in Japan. Gosh, the list goes on and on. Too many magical things to name.

But yet, the one thing you’d set out to do, you hadn’t accomplished. You’d actually failed miserably on it, to be exact. You hadn’t managed to find your ‘one.’

“So much for needing to get lost,” you mumble under your breath to yourself, just as the cab pulls up to a familiar tower. One that, even after 4 years away, still looks exactly the same. You glance up at the massive structure and catch sight of the giant Avengers ‘A’, instead of the original ‘Stark’—okay, so maybe it’s not entirely the same, but freaking close enough.

You pay the cabby, and then grab your backpack and hop out. Going to the trunk to grab your duffle bag and insanely large suitcase. And then, as the cab pulls away, you just stand there, on the busy sidewalk, staring up at the tower. Tourists, fan girls, lookie-loos, and paps all hanging around, probably hoping for a glimpse at the world famous heroes living within the towers walls. All shuffling around near you, stepping around you, or bumping into you.

But you just continue to stand there, looking up at the physical form of your families legacy. At the empire your family built, and still continue to build.

You always thought the next time you’d see this place, that you’d be hand in hand with your soulmate, bringing them here to meet your brother. But instead, you are just here to celebrate your brothers birthday. The first one you’ve been able to come home for, in years. What with college and then traveling always getting in the way.

You sigh deeply, putting on your backpack, slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder and then extending the pull handle of your suitcase, before making your way into the ridiculously large and sleek lined structure.

You venture up to the front desk, and wait for one of the two, busy receptionists to be done on the phone. You would normally have just gone right up to your brothers office, but since the tower has been changed into the Avengers new headquarters, you aren’t exactly sure where your brother, or his office, currently are.

Plus with your exceptional luck—note the sarcasm—you’d probably end up walking into Sam Wilson's bedroom, or Natasha Romanoff’s living room. And then you’d have to awkwardly explain who you are, and that you just had no idea where you were supposed to go. And it would be a whole thing, one you are not interested in partaking in. At all. So instead you’d just wait at the front desk, and then politely ask one of the ladies where the heck Tony Stark is, currently.

You glance around the busy lobby, a drone of voices, footsteps, and laughter echoing around the giant space. Everyone has a place to be, or people to see. Everyone moving with such purpose, such drive, as they head off to various places. Off to get coffee, or lunch with a coworker, or upstairs for a meeting, or to Central Park for a run. And yet here you are, lost both in mind and physical form. Unsure where to go next, unsure of what is to come next.

“Can I help you?” A sweet voice rings in your ear and you turn back to face the stunning receptionist. Of course she’d be beautiful, you’d be willing to bet hard earned cash that your brother hired her. Most likely mainly due to her looks alone.

“Ah, yeah,” you shake your head, stifling your giggles at your last thought. “I’m um, I’m just wondering where Tony is at the moment?”

She furrows her perfect brows, as she looks at her computer monitor, the sounds of her nails clicking on the keyboard keys at a rapid pace now in your ears. “Do you have an appointment with him?”

“I don’t, but he knows I’m coming,” you start, but the unconvinced look on her face has you adding. “He’s expecting me.”

“What’s your name?” She asks as she flicks her eyes to you.

“Y/N,” you say quickly, pulling out your real ID and showing it to her, “ah Y/N Stark. His little sister.”

She takes the ID, giving it a quick look over. “Oh!” She says, as her eyes widen instantly at the last name, just like everyone else’s eyes always do the second they hear or see it.

Your last name holds weight all over the world. So you try to avoid telling anyone it, as the last thing you want is people treating you differently, entirely because of your last name. Or God forbid kidnapping you for ransom or something insane like that. Your brother does deals with a lot of horrible people—or rather, he pisses off a lot of horrible people. And you’ve travelled through some less than desirable countries over the last 4 years. Using an alias that your brother insisted on making for you. Y/N Y/L/N, being that alias. You even had a fake ID and passport with that name on it as well.

You using a fake name was—as your brother had put it, the day you’d told him of your plans to travel the world—‘the only way he’d feel comfortable with you being out there, alone. It would be the only way he’d be able to sleep at night.’ But you still had to call him every few days to check in, or he’d have sent people out to find you. And not just any person, a superhero at that.

How embarrassing would that have been? To have someone like Bucky Barnes, show up at Machu Picchu in Peru to find you. You’re sure all the other tourists with you that day would have loved it, but you? Yeah, not so much.

“Here you are, Miss Stark,” she says, handing you back your ID along with a special all access pass. “Mr. Stark is on the 89th floor, and you take that elevator, just over there,” she says sweetly as she points to it. “I have informed him that you are on your way up.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile and nod once, then head for the elevators.

The ride up isn’t long and before you know it the doors are opening and you are pulling your massive suitcase into a large, empty hallway. Glancing up and down it, but there is no one in sight. No Tony in sight. Where the heck is he? He should be here, he knew you were coming up.

You breathe out deeply, then decide to just explore until you find him. It was one floor, how lost could you get?

Very lost, the answer to that was. Very. Lost.

Let me just say this now, this may only be one floor, but it is a freaking labyrinth of a floor. You aren’t sure how long you have just been taking random corners in the hopes of finding someone, anyone—But Tony, specifically.

You’d even take finding the dang elevator again right about now. Anything would be better than what you are currently doing, which is just aimlessly wandering around. And whenever you’d come upon the end of a hallway, you’d just ‘eeny meeny miny moe’ to pick which direction to take next.

Where the heck is your brother?! Gah, you are so going to die here, alone in a random hallway of the tower. In a place where no one will even find your body for months, because this place it just too stupidly big. Too ridiculously large. Why?! Why does it need to be so dang—

“Ma’am, are you alright? Are you lost?”

Was that in your head!? Ah, nope, no, it was not! You completely freeze at the deep voice, saying the exact words you’ve said to yourself over and over again. The words that have plagued your mind, left you daydreaming endlessly, and had you fantasizing about how they’d sound finally falling from the lips of your ‘one’. The words that had started to haunt you, more and more, as the years ticked by.

Wondering, worrying, hoping and praying that you’d actually get to hear them aloud one day, and hopefully soon. Curious as to how your soulmates voice would sound uttering them, and let’s just say, you were not disappointed by how his deep voice, said the words you've been dying to hear for as long as you can remember.

The cursive writing on your clavicle tingles and heats up, deliciously. And your right hand shoots up to gently trace the spot, the fabric of your shirt the only barrier between your fingers and his words. Your heart beats at an alarming rate in your chest now, as your mind completely fogs over.

You turn slowly, so damn slowly, on your heel and come face to face with stunning, deep blue eyes. You don’t even clue in at first who they belong to, you are just so entranced by them. But that doesn’t last long, your eyes finally scan over his whole form, and you instantly want to faint. Or puke. Or both, maybe?

Captain Steven Grant Rogers stands about 5 feet from you now, the only other person in the hallway with you. So you know it was his voice that spoke the words written on you. You know he is your soulmate. Your ‘one.’ There is no other possibility. This is it, the moment you’ve always waited for.

And holy hell! Is this for real?! Is this a prank your brother is pulling on you right now? You glance around the hallway, looking for your brother, so you can pummel him if it is. Your eyes land back on the ridiculously attractive super soldier and, seriously?! Are you being punked right now?! Because..

“This has got to be some sort of joke?” You mumble quietly to yourself, and then you abruptly slap a hand over your mouth, feeling mortified. Not even realizing that those would be the first words you’d ever say to your soulmate, because the guy has super serum hearing for crying out loud. So of course he had probably just heard your stupid, thoughtless mutterings.

Your eyes widen, you assume comically, as your hand still sits over your mouth. Oh God, those are the first words you’d ever say to him!? Oh crap! Those are the exact words he has written on him?! The words he has probably had written on him his whole dang life. Even back when he was small and sickly. Oh shit, oh no! This is not good, not good at all! The image of a little Steve Rogers reading those words for the first time plays in your mind, and that instantly just breaks your heart into a million pieces. This is just your damn luck!

But then you watch as Steve’s face drops, becoming depressingly forlorn and downcast, as his right hand rubs at a spot on his left pec, directly over his heart. And you instantly need to fix this, you need to make him happy again. You can’t stand seeing him upset, so you drop your hand from your mouth, taking a small step towards him on instinct, as you go to fix your horrible blunder.

“Oh gosh, oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry, I meant more that I have ah,” you glance around the empty hallway, trying to figure out how to word this so he will understand. “You see, I’m not upset in anyway that it’s you. That you’re it for me. It’s just that I’ve searched this whole darn planet to find you, to then only learn that you’ve been right here in the tower, in my home city, all along.” You sigh deeply, looking down at your feet as you mumble, more to yourself, “it’s just all rather maddening, really.”

A deep chuckle rings out in the silent hall, the glorious sound causes you to snap your eyes up to look at Steve again. “I can imagine,” he smirks, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. More beautiful then both the Plitvice Lakes in Croatia, and Oia, Santorini in Greece, combined. You’d know, you’ve seen both first hand. You’ve gazed upon both. “I’ve searched for you for over a 100 years.”

“Even with knowing that the first words I’d ever say to you, would be asking if this was all a joke?” You chuckle anxiously, glancing down at your fidgeting hands.

“Yeah, Doll,” he chuckles, your heart skipping at the sound and the pet name that so effortlessly fell from his lips, you glance up to lock eyes with him again. “Even with knowing that. I was always so curious what you’d mean by that line. I mean, when I was younger, I assumed it would be referring to my size, my health,” he shakes his head, as if to banish the memories now playing in his head of that hard time in his life. “But after the serum, after waking up from the ice, I had no idea what your meaning behind those words could have been about. I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d even ever actually get to hear them, get to finally learn why you’d said those exact words. What with being frozen for 70 years and all,” he shrugs one large shoulder, sadly. “I feared that I’d missed you. Missed my chance at meeting you.”

“I’m so, so sorry, again. Not just for taking so long to finally find you, but also for those being the first words I’d ever say to you. The words on your skin all these years, I can’t even imagine all the horrible things your mind conjured up about them.” You sigh deeply, lowering your head and mumbling, “I just feel so bad about all of this.”

“Hey, hey,” he says quietly, sweetly, “don’t feel bad, sweetheart. You had no control over it, it was just the hand Fate dealt us both. But I don’t regret any of this, at all, I’m actually really happy to finally know the reason behind your first words to me. Let’s just say this is a huge weight lifted,” he chuckles. Then adds quietly, “for a bunch of different reasons.”

You nod, your eyes meeting his once again, and just seeing his sincere smile, causes a large one to form on your own lips.

“That’s better,” he whispers happily, and you assume he is talking about you smiling now. He sticks his hand out to you, “I’m Steve Rogers, by the way.” His other hand rubs the back of his neck, as he awkwardly adds, “but I guess you probably already knew that, hey?”

“I did,” you giggle, and take hold of his hand, shaking it firmly, “and I’m—“

“Y/N!” A familiar voice cuts you off, echoing through the empty hallway. You glance passed Steve to see your brother walking hastily towards you. “There you are, Kiddo. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Tone’s,” you say quickly, reluctantly pulling your hand from Steves so you can hug your brother. “It’s so good to see you! Happy Birthday!” You say as you both embrace each other for the first time in years. You pull away from him, “damn, you got old!” Then you abruptly burst out laughing at the dramatic gasp, accompanied by the now indignant look on his face.

“You take that back!” He playfully scolds, “and I don’t get old, I get better with time. Like a fine wine, or an expensive bourbon.”

“Or like cheese?” You snort.

He narrows his eyes at you, but ignores your comment. “I see you’ve met Capsical,” he says as he turns to the man, patting him on the shoulder. The aforementioned who is now just awkwardly standing there, clearly unsure what to do here. Whether to leave you both to your moment, or stay and wait for it to be over.

“Yeah,” you nod, smirking up at Steve. “We were just in the middle of that.”

“Oh, then let me take over,” Tony says excitedly, gesturing to you, “Steve, this is my little sister, Y/N.” And you almost burst out laughing as Steve’s eyes widen comically, upon learning exactly who you are. Tony then gestures to Steve, “Y/N, this is Steve Rogers. Also known as Capsical.” Your brother loops his arm with yours, “alright, now that that’s over with, let’s go Y/N. I’ll show you around quickly and then take you to your room. We don’t have a lot of time before my partaaaaaay!” He says loudly with a flourish, as he begins to hastily pull you down the hall, and away from your soulmate. From Steve.

“Oh,” you say as you quickly try to keep up so you don’t fall flat on your face. “Ah, okay.” You look over your shoulder, saying loudly, “it was amazing to meet you Steve, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, probably at your brothers ridiculous antics. “Yeah, Y/N. You’ll see me later, promise.” You hear him say just as Tony pulls you around a corner and you lose sight of Steve entirely. You sigh, and turn your head back to face forward so you can watch where you’re walking.

After a moment, Tony pipes up. “So you and Capsical seemed to have hit it off pretty well,” he side eyes you. “You know he still hadn’t found his soulmate yet either, hey?”

You nod and shrug, “I gathered as much.” You could have told your brother right then and there, but you’d barely gotten to talk to Steve yet, much less feel comfortable going around advertising that he was your soulmate. Telling people, your brother included, was something you and Steve should discuss first, together. Something you both should sound off on, this wasn’t just your news to spill. It was both of yours.

Tony nods, “most people believe Peggy was his soulmate, there is even a small write up about it at the Smithsonian exhibit. They asked us all for comments on it, but Steve wasn’t interested in divulging whether or not she actually was. He wanted to keep her personal privacy, and his own, intact.”

“Understandable,” you nod. “I’d have probably not told them either. That exhibit is ridiculous, I can’t even imagine how it makes Steve feel having all these people, these strangers, gawking at his life like he’s some sort of circus attraction. He deserves a little privacy in his life, and a few of his life secrets staying just that, secrets.”

“Could you imagine if they made an exhibit about my life?” Tony chuckles, then promptly shutters.

You laugh, “oh God, let’s just hope they never do! The things they’d dig up about you, and me most likely as well. I’d never forgive you for that!” You say playfully, laughing a little more.

“Like your 8th grade school photo?” He raises an eyebrow, a stupid smirk on his face.

You shutter at the memory of that day, you’d attempted to cut your own bangs the night before your school photo day. And it had not gone well. At all. You’d cut them while your hair was still wet, and ended up with bangs only covering half your forehead. It wasn’t a good look for you. Not at all. “Thanks for the reminder, now I will do everything in my power to make sure they never make an exhibit for you. Solely just to ensure that those photos never see the light of day, ever again.”

He laughs loudly beside you, and then you both continue to just catch up, as he gives you a tour of the new layout of the tower. You telling him about all of your adventures and him telling you about his, and even though you always love being around your brother. Your mind is completely fixated on other things. Or one thing, actually. That being a ridiculously handsome and large, blonde super soldier, one who just so happens to be your soulmate. And then all you can think is that you can not wait to see him tonight at Tony’s party.

You give yourself one more final look over in the mirror in your room, hoping a certain tall blonde Captain likes the dress you’ve chosen to wear. You really, truly hoped he does. After Tony gave you the ‘tower tour-lite,’ as he’d called it, since you didn’t have much time for a full tour before you had to start getting ready for the party. He’d brought you to this guest room, and then he’d headed off to get ready himself. Leaving you to shower, do your hair and makeup, and then paint yourself into your form fitting dress.

You nod to your reflection, pleased with how everything turned out and then you gather up all the fabric to your floor length, white satin gown and head for the door. The gown was new, you’d only just bought it a few days ago, as you didn’t actually own anything that would have worked for the party’s all white theme.

It was an absolutely stunning dress though, you’d fallen in love with it even before you’d tried it on. And you secretly want to just live in it, no really, you actually do. Like go about your day to day life just wearing it, go grocery shopping in it, do the dishes in it, stroll through the park in it. Basically you just never wanted to take it off, that was what you were getting at here.

The dress had a deep plunge in the front and left the upper half of your back exposed. Showing a tasteful amount of skin, but covering all the important bits. As was your style to a T, plus this was your older brothers birthday celebration, and you refused to walk in there scantily clad and looking like a dang hussy.

Plus your soulmate would be there, ya know, the one you just met and now desperately wanted to look good for. But better than good, you wanted to knock his dang socks off with just one look at you. You really wanted him to like that way you looked, I mean, you knew he would even if you were wearing a dang black garbage bag. But you know that feeling of wanting the person you’re interested in to love how you looked all done up. It was a total confidence boost if they did, even if the time leading up to them finally seeing you, was thee most nerve wracking experience ever. It would all be totally worth it though, if their breath hitched at just the mere sight of you.

That’s what you were aiming for here, leaving Steve completely and utterly wide eyed and speechless. Gosh, you really want him to be. More than anything you’ve ever wanted before in your life. Hands down.

You enter out into the hall and head towards the elevator. Once it arrives, it quickly whisks you down to the party floor and as the doors open, you come face to face with a giant room full of people, all dressed in white. Music plays throughout the room, as waiters shuffle about with trays of champagne and different hors d'oeuvre. There are three bars, that you can see, scattered throughout the giant open space.

Your eyes scan the room, as you rise slightly on your tiptoes, trying to see over everyone. Your eyes searching for one person, and one person only. And plot twist, it’s not the birthday boy you’re looking for currently. You begin to walk into the crowd, still searching for Steve as you go.

But just as you believe you’d finally located him, off near the other side of the ballroom, his back to you as he talks to a few people, an arm loops with yours before you can even take a step towards him.

“Finally you’re here, and we can really get this party started!” Your brothers excited voice sounds in your ear and you glance to your right to see his big, joyful smile. Which in turn causes you to smile widely at him, you’d truly missed him during your travels. You both weren’t too close as kids, just due to the age difference and the fact that when your parents died, Tony had to take on their role and basically raise you. But as you grew older, the bond grew as well, morphing from parental to brotherly. So now you both were like actual siblings, ya know, since his maturity level was basically stuck as a 20 something year old. You giggle at that thought.

“Happy Birthday, Tone’s!” You say happily as you kiss his cheek. “You having a good time so far?”

“Much better now that you’re here,” he says then he abruptly turns on his heel and drags you in the opposite direction of Steve. Which makes your heart drop a little. You just want to see him up close so bad, see how he looks in a suit. Especially an all white one. Oh gosh, now that image is stuck in your mind. And you might actually drool on yourself because of it. You are willing to bet he looks exceptional in a suit. Oh, now you just so badly want to know if that last thought is true or not. “Let’s get a few drinks into you, so you can get on my level!”

You chuckle again, shaking your head and deciding to just focus on Tony for right now. It is his birthday party after all. Plus, you honestly want to have a drink, or 5, just to calm your insane nerves. “That is, hands down, the greatest idea you’ve ever had,” you say playfully as you smirk at him.

“What, robots not good enough for you?” He scoffs.

“Not when they try to take over the world and attempt to kill you, along with all the other avengers,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“Okay, that was a poor example,” he sighs, and at least he has the decency to look slightly ashamed with himself.

“Yeah, you probably should have led with ‘badassium’,” you laugh. “At least that one saved your life. Instead of trying to end it.”

He chuckles as you both reach the bar, “Fury was not pleased when I wanted to patent it as that. Said I’d encounter ‘several bureaucratic obstacles.’” He shrugs, a cheeky grin on his lips, “I don’t see any problems with the name I gave it.”

“Of course you don’t,” you roll your eyes fondly, then give the bartender your drink order and as you wait, you glance around the room, your eyes involuntarily scanning for the tall blonde Captain again.

“Who you looking so intently for, Kiddo?” Tony questions, glancing around the room as well. As if there’d be neon lights pointing to the person you were trying to find.

“No one,” you shrug, looking at him. “Was just checking everything out. Pepper set this all up, I take it?”

“She did,” he nods, “I’m going to ignore how offensive it is that you’d assume I had no hand in planning any of this,” he playfully glares at you. “Because I know you’re lying and just trying to distract me from noticing by triggering me. But I will have you know, this party sucks in comparison to the ones I usually plan,” he says smugly. “So spill it, Kid, who are you searching for?”

“Drop it, or I’ll inform Pepper that you said her party planning sucks,” you smirk.

Tony’s face visibly pales, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” you give him the best poker face you can muster up.

“Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll drop it. For now. But I’m gonna find out who you’re looking for, mark my words.”

You giggle, patting him on the shoulder patronizingly, “good luck with that, Tone’s.” You pick up your drink off the bar top, the bartender having just placed it there. “Please don’t do anything too strenuous to figure this out, though. We wouldn’t want you breaking a hip at your own birthday party, now would we?” You laugh boisterously as you quickly walk, dang near run, away from Tony as fast as you can. And even with ridiculously high, heels on, you aren’t letting anything hinder your hasty escape.

Though you aren’t fast enough as you manage to catch Tony gasping loudly and then yelling, “you’ll pay for that one, Kid!”

“I look forward to it!” You yell back over your shoulder at him. And then slip into the crowd, making your way towards the place you’d last seen Steve. Which honestly wasn’t your brightest idea, as Tony would probably be keeping an eye on you now, trying to figure out who you were looking for.

But honestly, you really just didn’t care if he figured it out or not. He’d obviously learn who Steve was to you soon enough. Really, you just didn’t tell him because you liked messing with him whenever you could, as much as you could. However once you've had a chance to actually talk to Steve, Tony will be the first person you tell the news to. He was your only family after all. The only person in the world you loved more then yourself. Well, for now at least. Until you truly got to know Steve Rogers, then he’d join that very short list in your heart.

Your eyes scan the room once more, landing on broad shoulders and a muscular back, wrapped deliciously in a tight fitting white suit jacket. If that wasn’t a dead give away that you’d found who you’d been looking for, then the iconic blonde hair would have been. Your eyes travel the length of him, and even though his back is facing you, you have to suppress a delightful shutter. But you can’t stop yourself from biting your lip.

A movement in front of him causes your eyes to flick to it, see Bucky Barnes looking directly at you. The smirk on his lips leads you to believe he’d seen you shamelessly checking his best friend out. Though turns out, from the heat that is currently rising in your cheeks, it wasn’t actually shamelessly. The fact that someone had caught you is rather embarrassing, actually. And then you see Bucky lean forward slightly, whispering something to Steve, before he nods his head in your direction.

Steve turns slightly to glance over his shoulder, looking slightly confused as he looks around but then his eyes land on you. And instantly his they widen, and his mouth drops open slightly as he gives you a very thorough once over. His eyes completely drinking you in as if you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The eighth wonder of his world.

And bam, got him, you think. An involuntary grin forms on your lips at that thought. This was the exact reaction you’d been hoping for, this was exactly why you’d spent a ridiculous amount of time on getting ready. It had all paid off though, it had been entirely worth it for this one moment.

You walk right up to him, stopping a foot away and smiling up at him, “hey, you.”

“Uh hi,” he whispers breathlessly, his eyes slipping down to take you in once again. But then he abruptly snaps his eyes up to yours and shakes his head. As if to chide himself for openly looking, or to clear his mind of wherever it just travelled to. You can’t really be too sure which it is, but you secretly hope it’s the latter. “You uh, you look absolutely stunning, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you say, your hand instinctively comes up to smooth out his lapel, as if you’d done this hundreds of times before. “You look very handsome in this suit, Steve,” your eyes lock with his, as his hand comes up to cover yours, still resting on his chest. But then someone clearing their throat loudly nearby has your eyes flicking in that direction.

Your sight lands on Bucky, smiling at you both, “you gunna introduce me to your lady, Punk?”

Steve sighs, shaking his head, though the fond smile on his lips tells you he is entirely used to this from Bucky. And that his friends forwardness doesn’t actually bother him anymore. You glance at Bucky, then at Steve, and the smile on his lips now looks unsure, nervous even.

His hand lowers both of yours off his chest, but he doesn’t let it go of it as he leans forward slightly, whispering, “Bucky sort of pried it out of me. Ya know, that we met in the hallway earlier, and that you're my uh, my soulmate.” He rubs the back of his neck with the hand not currently holding yours, “I really hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you smile reassuringly at him. “Though I haven’t actually told Tony yet, so let’s just not tell him that Bucky knew before him, okay?” You giggle. “He’d never let me live that down.”

“Deal,” Steve chuckles, nodding his head. He turns, still holding your hand in his and then lightly pulls you towards his best pal.

“Buck, this is Y/N,” he glances down at you, lovingly. Which makes your heart skip a beat. “My soulmate.”

“So nice to finally meet you, Doll,” he says and then two arms wrap around you, lifting you up and gently pulling you away from Steve, “and it’s about damn time you finally showed up!”

You giggle as you just dangle there, in the air, wrapped in a giant, super soldier bear hug. “You too, and it’s really great to finally be here,” you say as you glance over your shoulder at Steve.

“Alright Buck, put her down,” Steve chuckles, and Bucky listens, placing you down, gently.

You quickly check that all your important bits are still covered, and once you see that they are, you quickly smooth out your dress and glance around. Noticing that the commotion has now drawn the attention of everyone around you, their eyes all locked on the three of you. You step back so you are next to Steve once again, feeling slightly anxious to have all these eyes on you now.

“Don’t worry, they will get distracted by something else shortly,” Steve whispers down to you, as if he’d just read your mind.

You look up at him and nod, “I guess I’ll just have to get used to all the eyes on me again. No one really knew who I was the last 4 years, so I got sort of used to the anonymity.”

“It’s really not so bad anymore,” Steve shrugs, “most New Yorkers are used to us now, so they don’t really react when they see us around. It’s mainly just the tourists you have to watch out for,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, they can be a little,” Bucky starts, scrunching up his face, “handsy, at times.”

You giggle, picturing the insanely large Winter Soldier running away scared from a large mob of enthusiastic tourists. Yet the guy storms Hydra facilities without so much as a second thought. “That sounds truly awful,” you gasp, feigning shock and outrage. “How do you ever manage!?”

Bucky sighs deeply, grumbling out, “yup, your the Punks other half alright.”

You and Steve laugh, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to his side. Clearly unfazed about the people around you seeing this, and the look in his eyes give you the distinct impression that he’d happily shout from the rooftops that you are his soulmate. But you can’t judge, as you’d probably be right beside him, yelling from the rooftops as well.

“That she is,” he says proudly, smiling down at you. “Would you like to dance, Doll?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head adamantly, “nope, no. I don’t dance. I have two left feet.”

He shrugs, “so do I. But we can be horrible together.”

“Okay, if you insist,” you sigh, nodding. “But when I step on your toes, just remember you asked for it.”

“I’ve taken worse for less gratifying reasons,” he shrugs. “Getting to finally dance with you will be entirely worth it. Plus, I heal quickly,” he laughs and pulls you towards the dance floor.

“Well thank goodness for that,” you sigh, knowing his toes are going to take a beating.

You both reach the dance floor and Steve takes one of your hands in his, as his other slides around to your lower back. Your free hand ending up on his shoulder and then he begins to lead you both. And surprisingly, you manage to not only keep up, but you haven’t stepped on him once.

You both just look at each other for a moment, neither one speaking a word. But then Steve smirks, “I thought you said you had two left feet?”

“I did. But I guess I just needed the right partner.” You raise a brow at him, “though I distinctly remember you saying you did as well. So much for being horrible, together,” you sigh playfully.

“We should have known,” he baits, shaking his head.

You bite, taking the bait. “Known what?”

“That we’d be perfect together,” he says through a giant goofy, lopsided grin.

And you can’t help it, honestly you can’t, you burst out laughing at this big beautiful, cheesy man in front of you. “That was so bad,” you scold playfully as you laugh a little more.

And all you can think in this moment is, you’d finally found him, and you couldn’t have been more happy with the man Fate had chosen for you. The man that completed you, that was made just for you. The same one you’d get to love unconditionally, and who’d love you just as much in return. The very one you’d get to build your life with, possibly have kids with, and grow old beside, hand in hand, and happily in love.

Steve was it, he was Your ‘One’. And he was entirely worth the wait.

Bonus scene.

You and Steve finish your dance and he leads you off the dance floor, back towards Bucky. You glance up and notice that Bucky isn’t alone anymore, he is now surrounded by all the other Avengers.

Your brother included. And oh shoot, here we go. You glance up at Steve, seeing he is already looking at you, “should we just tell them all now, rip it off like a bandaid?”

He chuckles, “probably best.”

As soon as you both get to the group you go to open your mouth, but Tony beats you to it. “I figured it out,” he says triumphantly. “I told you I would.”

“Figured what out, Tone’s?” You play dumb, raising a questioning brow at him.

“I know,” he nods towards Steve, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “I figured it out all on my own,” he says proudly.

Pepper sighs and rolls her eyes, “he had Friday playback the hallway footage of you two meeting earlier.”

“Pepper!” Tony gasps. “She wasn’t supposed to know about that!”

“All on your own, hey?” You laugh loudly.

“Fine, fine, so I had a little help,” he mumbles, waving it off. “But I’d just like to point out that I actually created Friday, so technically I didn’t have any outside help. I just smartly used my own tech to my advantage,” he grins smugly but then his smile turns softer, “but congratulations, Kid. You couldn’t have ended up with a better guy.”

You detach from Steve and step forward towards Tony, you both share a loving hug, “thank you so much, for everything, Tony.”

You pull away and he just holds your shoulders, slowly looking you over, “I’m so happy for you, Y/N, you deserve nothing but the best.” He glances passed you to Steve, “both of you.” He looks back to you, “and from the looks of it, you both got just that.”

You just nod, staying silent for fear your voice will crack, as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. So you blink quickly to eradicate them before they can fall.

“Uh,” Sam starts, looking around at the others, “anyone else super lost right now?”

Clint raises his hand, “I am.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says smugly, winking at Sam just to rub it in a little more.

Thor leans down to whisper to Nat, and you’re instantly positive that he doesn’t actually know how to whisper, as you can clearly hear him. “Uh, who is Y/N?” He asks, not unkindly though.

“Tony’s kid sister,” she quickly whispers back, waving him away but keeping her eyes locked between you and Steve. The smirk on her lips tells you she already knows exactly where this is going and doesn’t want to miss a single word.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head and looks to you, a question in his eyes. You smile and nod, telling him it’s okay and to go ahead, as you quickly move to stand beside him.

He quickly takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Everyone, this is Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, she is Tony’s little sister,” he looks down at you, so many happy emotions swimming in his eyes, and your positive yours match his currently. “And my soulmate.”

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

@hopefulmoonobject @caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @marvel13princess @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #soulmate #soulmate AU

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kailynchadwick · 4 years ago

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Yeezy Supply: The New Uniform

“I TOLD YOU MOTHERF**KERS IT WAS MORE THAN THE MUSIC.” –KANYE WEST, COLD

Kanye West has always been one to make a statement. Whether it’s through his lyrics, his Twitter account or his controversial remarks regarding his support of our president, Donald Trump. Along with being hospitalized and going on TV to very publicly voice his opinions about the 13th amendment Kanye has made waves with his clothing line “YEEZY.” Debuting his Season 1 collection in 2015, I can speak on behalf of all Kanye fans; this was the greatest gift he could have given us since My Dark Beautiful Twisted Fantasy. So what is it about this designer, who is fairly new to the scene, and his collections that have the music and fashion world so excited? What is it about Yeezy that has garnered the support of Anna Wintour and Carine Roitfeld? What is it about this new “dad” fashion that has Millennials lining up in stores and online to cop the newest Yeezy drop? I believe the answer is simple, Kanye has given us a new uniform to abide by and we’re all lining up to get it.

Before he launched Yeezy Kanye spent time interning at Fendi (where he met Virgil Abloh), he had collaborations with Louis Vuitton, Nike and he also launched two collections under his own name. But it was when he had his first show using the Yeezy name that we can see his fashion career really taking off and solidifying the West name as a household name in fashion. In his early shows, the models don’t walk down a traditional runway as they did with his 2012 shows, rather, they stand in rows and stare blankly at the audience. And for the Yeezy Season 3 show that doubled as a listening party for The Life of Pablo, there were thirty-eight strict rules the models had to abide by to pull off the perfect un-phased look. It’s in these first few seasons that we have our first glimpse at the Yeezy “uniform:” a sea of models including Kendall Jenner, wearing tights, socks and bodysuits paired with baggy sweatpants, sweatshirts and combat boots and “sock boots” that cling to models legs. Some of the clothing is distressed as well, with sweaters and shirts having deconstructed elements like rips and tears. Kanye really shows the creative process with his early shows but concerning the present day Yeezy, it’s a bit of a different story with the brands sleek sneakers and witty advertising campaigns using his Insta-famous wife Kim Kardashian. In my opinion Kanye West is doing what Coco Chanel once did. Chanel took the “little black dress,” a simple “working girl” dress and made it high fashion. She cultivated the idea of wearing something that wasn’t visibly luxurious except to the one wearing her clothing. Isn’t Kanye doing the same thing?

He’s come a long way since pink polos, backpacks and shutter shades but no matter what trend Kanye creates his loyal fans are sure to follow. With Yeezy, Kanye has created a uniform of some kind. We can see uniforms in everyday life and how they’ve changed throughout the years. Hospitals, schools and the military use uniforms of different kinds to identify different positions within their professions. We can even look back in time at different subcultures like Punk, High Camp or the New Romantics and see that they each have their own uniform that society can identify them by. Has Kanye created a new uniform for Millennials? Or more specifically has he created a uniform for his fans alike? His collections have the same dystopian, Mad Maxx commonalities throughout the years. The color palette is neutral and absent of any logos or words besides the recent “Calabasas” or “Lost Hills” that are splashed against long sleeves or some sweaters. If you’re wearing any model or color way of the “Yeezy Boost” sneaker, any Kanye follower is guaranteed to recognize the bulky, oversized sole. The shoe retailed at $200-$350 is known to sell out in minutes and in some cases even seconds and is a must-have commodity for anyone who wears the Yeezy uniform proudly.

It seems to me that regardless of his outlandish antics and outspoken political views that flocks of his followers are attracted to the Yeezy brand because of his pure artistry. It’s the love for his music and his story that keeps his fans in his corner. It doesn’t matter if you were with Kanye from The College Dropout or if you hopped on the bandwagon with Yeezus, it’s the confidence, pride and passion that Kanye possesses with whatever he’s talking about or working on in that moment. You would swear you disagreed with him one minute but the next you’re giving him “kudos” for speaking his mind. For a generation that seems to want to be heard but not seen we love to hide behind our Twitter accounts but shout our opinions through tweets. We hide behind Snap Chat and Instagram filters but enjoy posting selfies at the bar or the concert we’re at. Kanye shares some of these tendencies with his fans; he’s someone who is very private but then on the other hand he is loud (figuratively and literally). It’s no surprise his designs reflect this in a way: the clothes being somewhat mundane except for in structure and the shoes making a bold statement. I suppose we won’t know if the Yeezy brand is a fad and will be finished in a couple seasons or if it’s here to stand the test of time, but as long as Yeezy reflects the interests of his followers I would bet on the latter.

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aswithasunbeam · 6 years ago

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A Trip to Emergency, a Modern Hamliza AU

[Read on AO3]

Rated: Teen and up

Summary: "Eliza fumbled trying to free the phone from the charger, the sleek device slipping from her shaking hands and sliding partly under the bed. She dove after it, trying to force herself to keep breathing evenly. She dialed as she rushed back towards the bathroom. '911, what’s your emergency?'" Or, in which Alexander's stubbornness lands him in the hospital, and Eliza's care sees him again.

Philip made a long, high pitched whine just as Eliza finished texting a response to her mother. Plugging the phone back into the charger, she hurried out into the living room to find her son sitting up on the floor next to the coffee table, his face red and scrunched. “What’s wrong, baby?” she cooed, scooping the little boy up into her arms.

“He bumped his head,” Alex said. He’d sat up on the couch, his feet on the floor, but he was nearly doubled over on himself with his hand braced against his back. She made a consoling sound as she kissed Philip’s cheek and bounced him on her hip.

“My mom will be here any minute,” Eliza reported. “She said she’d watch Pip for a couple days, until you’re feeling better.”

Alex grunted as he attempted to straighten his posture. His cheeks bore a distinct flush, and she could see sweat decorating his brow even at a distance. However much he might refuse the thermometer, she could tell he had a fever.

“Honey, just lie down.” He struggled another few seconds before giving in and collapsing back against the pillows. She frowned as she watched him adjust, his face pinched in pain. “Are you sure you’re okay to be alone while I’m at work?”

“I think I’ll survive a few hours on my own.”

“I wish you’d let me make you a doctor’s appointment.”

“I’m fine.”

She blew out a frustrated breath at his stubbornness. Turning to the table, she finished packing Pip’s belongings into his diaper bag and his little monkey backpack. Pip grabbed at his sippy cup filled with water, and she handed it over as she placed him on his feet. He immediately toddled off back towards his father.

“Hey bud. What have you got there?” She could hear the smile in Alex’s voice. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw her son holding out his cup to his father. “Oh, thank you,” he said, taking the cup.

Pip made to pull himself up onto the couch. Rushing over, Eliza scooped him up again and ignored his resulting whine. “Do you want to wear your backpack?” she asked, redirecting his attention as she set him down again. He stopped crying when she held the monkey up for him to see, and held his arms out.

“That’s my big boy,” she praised, adjusting the straps over his little shoulders.

The knock on the door could only be her mother. “Come on in, Mom!” As her mother stepped inside, Eliza threw the last few necessities into the diaper bag.

“There’s my darling boy,” Kitty said, squatting down as Pip raced over to her, the tail of his monkey backpack dragging on the floor behind him.

“Thanks so much, Mom,” Eliza said. “We really appreciate you watching him.”

“Any time. Your father and I are always delighted to have him. I do hope you feel better, though, dear,” Kitty replied, glancing over at Alex.

“Thanks.” He held up the sippy cup. “Don’t forget this.”

Eliza grabbed it from him as she brought the diaper bag over to Kitty. Lifting Pip up again, she kissed his chubby little cheek one more time and said, “Come say bye-bye to Daddy.” She lowered him down over the couch so Alex could kiss him as well.

“Love you, bud,” Alex said.

Eliza closed the door behind her mother and son when they’d gone, and looked at her husband. “Will you be all right while I take a shower?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I can take the day off, you know. Work wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m fine, Bets.” His voice held a tinge of annoyance. “This isn’t my first kidney stone. It’ll pass on its own. It always does.”

“You look feverish,” she said. “That’s not normal. I’m worried about you.”

His expression softened somewhat, but he insisted again, “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she said, surrendering for the time being. “I’m going to get in the shower.”

He nodded vaguely, distracted as he shifted again against his pillows.

Trying to tamp down her concern, she teased, “You must really not be feeling good—you didn’t even offer to join me.”

He smirked. “Maybe later.”

She stooped down to give him a kiss before heading to the bathroom.

Steam had fogged up the bathroom mirror entirely as she finished drying off and wrapped the towel around herself, tucking the fluffy fabric at her chest. She reached out to flip on the fan before starting to brush out her hair, hoping the fog would dissipate by the time she was ready to apply her makeup. A sudden knock on the door startled her. She craned her head around to call out, “I’ll just be a minute, honey.”

“I need to come in now, Bets,” Alex said. His voice carried an urgent, strained quality. Brow wrinkling, she reached out to turn the doorknob, not having bothered to lock it in the first place. Alex rushed in as the cloud of steam wafted out. He sank to his knees, pushed back the lid to the toilet, and groaned miserably, his face hovering low over the water.

“Oh, honey.” She placed the brush back on the sink and knelt beside him.

“I’m really nauseous,” he muttered, green-faced.

She nodded, and ran her fingers through his hair before dropping her palm to his back. His skin felt warm even through his t-shirt, and he was quaking slightly, though whether from chills or pain she couldn’t say. “You’re sure this is just a kidney stone?”

He shrugged, leaning farther over the toilet. His eyes darted towards her. “Could you….” He swallowed thickly. “Could you give me a few minutes?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, sweetheart,” she agreed. After giving his back a final rub and kissing his temple, she rose and exited the bathroom. As soon as the door tapped shut behind her, she heard him give a sick retch, and winced.

She’d just call the doctor, she decided, as she wandered towards the bedroom. This was ridiculous; he ought to have been checked out when the pain first started. If only he weren’t so stubborn, she thought, shaking her head as she hunted through her top drawer for a bra.

She’d just finished tugging her jeans up when she heard Alex calling for her. Adjusting her blouse over the waist of her jeans, she started for the bathroom once more. The door was still shut. She eased it open as she asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The lingering smell of her soap from the shower competed with the reek of sick in the small enclosed space. Alex was breathing hard, his knuckles white where they gripped at the toilet bowl. “I don’t feel right,” he said, his voice hardly a whisper.

Worried, she lowered herself back down to her knees at his side and laid the back of her hand to his forehead. “God, honey, you’re really burning up.”

He shook his head a little, blinking slowly. “Something’s wrong.”

That much was obvious. Careful not to look into the toilet, she reached over to flush the contents down, then gently placed her hands on his ribs under his armpits. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get you into bed. We’ll take your temperature, and then we’ll see if you can keep down some pain killers.”

He started to push away from the toilet at her urging, his legs visibly shaky beneath him as he made to stand. Her arms braced around his torso in an attempt to keep him steady. “Oh,” he said, the word floating on an exhale, before his eyes rolled back. His body went limp in her arms.

She yelped as he fell, too heavy to support on her own with no warning. The sickening crack of his skull hitting the toilet bowl seemed to echo through the room. Shaking, heart pounding in her ears, she bent down. Her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch. “Alex?”

His face was slack; his eyelids didn’t so much as twitch.

“Oh my God.” Her breath was coming in quick, panicked pants. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath through her nose. “Okay. Okay.”

She held a hand out in front of his mouth to make sure he was still breathing. The little puff of breath she felt against her palm prompted a noise between a sigh and a sob to force its way from her throat. Hating to leave him, she whispered, “I’ll be right back, honey. You’ll be okay.”

Stumbling from the bathroom, she ran back to the bedroom where her phone was charging. She fumbled trying to free the phone from the charger, the sleek device slipping from her shaking hands and sliding partly under the bed. She dove after it, trying to force herself to keep breathing evenly. She dialed as she rushed back towards the bathroom.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Mrs. Hamilton?”

Eliza sprang up from the chair, almost leaving her purse behind in her rush towards the woman in scrubs. She scrambled back to grab it, still slinging the straps over her shoulder as she asked, “How is he?”

“Follow me, please,” the nurse said.

“My husband, how is he?”

The past several hours felt like a jumbled blur. She’d been instructed not to move or touch Alex until the paramedics arrived. When they finally did, she’d been pushed aside so they could assist him in the tiny bathroom. They’d told her nothing but that she could ride in the front to hospital when they’d wheeled him out, still unconscious, on the stretcher. Upon arriving at the hospital, she’d hardly had the door of the ambulance open when they’d whisked him from the back towards the emergency doors. Inside, she’d been handed a clipboard of thick papers, spent several panicked minutes hunting for their insurance card, and then sat for hours without a word on Alex’s condition.

The nurse led her into a cramped room furnished with two plastic chairs and computer mounted to the wall. Motioning for Eliza to sit, the nurse typed a code into the keyboard and reached for the mouse. “The doctor will be in to speak with you in a few minutes,” the nurse said. “But let’s see what his chart says.”

Eliza twisted her fingers together anxiously, watching the nurse frown lightly as she read over the screen. Craning her head, Eliza saw only a jumble of letters and numbers that meant absolutely nothing to her. Finally, the nurse muttered “All right,” and turned to look at her.

“So, it looks like he has regained consciousness.”

A shaky sigh of relief fell from her lips. “Thank God.”

The nurse smiled a little. “The bump to his head caused a minor concussion, but no major damage. We’ll be monitoring him while he’s here to make sure that stays the case. He’s still running a pretty high fever, though. The doctor ordered some tests to see what’s causing the elevated temperature. He’ll be able to tell you more when he gets here.”

“Thank you,” Eliza said. Before the nurse could leave, Eliza added quickly, “Will I be able to see him, after?”

“He’s being admitted, so we’ll be moving him up to a room soon. We’ll give you the room number as soon we have it, and you’ll be able to stay with him.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, calming at the thought. She’d wanted nothing more than to hold him since this morning.

Another interminable wait followed until the doctor finally stepped in. He too logged into the computer, reviewed the chart, and gave her almost precisely the same information.

“What are you testing for?” she asked.

“A number of things.”

“But, you must at least have a theory. What do you think is wrong?”

He smiled as he logged off the computer. “I started your husband on some antibiotics. Sometimes a kidney stone that’s having trouble passing can cause an infection. I can’t confirm anything until I have the labs back, but he’s responding well so far. His temp’s down to 102 already.”

Her eyes widened. “Down to 102?”

“Mm-hm. He was at 104 when he came in.” She ought not to have been shocked to find he’d been spiking a fever, but to hear the numbers confirmed made her stomach clench. Seeming to sense her unease, the doctor gave her an encouraging little nod. “He’s coming along nicely, Mrs. Hamilton. You’ll see him soon.”

Soon was a relative term in hospitals, she was coming to find. Nearly two hours passed before a nurse came to her with a room number, and he’d hurried away again before Eliza could ask for directions. After studying a directory she’d stumbled upon, she stepped into a lurching elevator and rode up to what she could only hope was the proper floor.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid aside with a groan. She stepped out, only to be nearly run over by two nurses rushing down the beige corridor with a cart between them. Glancing at the scrap of paper in her hands again, she started once more down the hall.

One of those daytime court dramas Alex hated played on the television mounted high on the wall of the room to which she’d been directed. Stepping inside, she saw an older gentleman dozing lightly on the bed, a half-eaten Jell-O cup sitting on the tray before him. She’d nearly doubled back to check the room number again when she saw the foot of a second bed peeking out from behind the curtain at the far end of the room.

Her throat felt tight as she pushed around the curtain.

Alex’s eyes were closed and a vivid red bruise decorated his temple where his head had hit the toilet. The staff had changed him into a hospital gown at some point; the sea-foam green fabric seemed only to highlight his sallow complexion. His right arm rested on his stomach, while the left lay palm up on the bed, an IV taped to his inside forearm.

“Honey?” she whispered, not sure she should wake him. His eyes fluttered open immediately, though, indicating he hadn’t really been asleep. Giving him a watery smile, she greeted, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, attempting to smile back but not entirely succeeding. He raised his right arm to wave her closer. “Come here.”

She moved in immediately, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder. The rush of relief at finally being able to hold him caused tears to prick at her eyes, and she had to deliberately swallow down a sob. “I’ve been so scared,” she said, once she trusted her voice. “Are you okay?”

She felt him shake his head a little, and pulled away enough to see his face. “My head hurts.”

“I know, honey,” she cooed.

“I’m nauseous. I want to go home.” His eyes were bright and his lashes damp as he looked at her, imploring. “Take me home.”

“I wish I could.” His face crumpled, and her heart broke. “I’m sure you won’t be here long, sweetheart. They’ve just got to get your fever under control and make sure you didn’t mush your brain up too much when you fell.”

The tiny smile that tugged at his lips felt like a victory.

She stroked the back of her fingers over his forehead, careful to avoid the bruise at his temple. The heat coming off of him still felt worrying. Brushing his hair back, she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Your hair is all crazy,” he mumbled when she’d pulled back again, his eyes drifting shut.

“Well, somebody interrupted my shower,” she teased. Not having properly brushed or dried her hair after washing it had caused it to dry in a tangled, wavy mess, but she’d been too terrified for the past several hours to give it much thought.

He grunted, even as the tiny smile reappeared. “Not even in the fun way.”

She laughed softly.

“Missed you,” he whispered. His hand grasped hers with surprising strength, their fingers tangling together. She squeezed back, determined to give him any comfort she could. “Don’t leave.”

“Not for anything in the world,” she vowed.

“Hey sickly.” Eliza’s head shot up from the bed at the sound of her sister’s voice. She rubbed a hand over her mouth as Angelica held up a duffel bag. “I brought supplies.”

“My glasses?” Alex asked, adjusting to sit up a little.

“And the books you wanted,” Angelica said. “Jeez, you look awful.”

Alex smirked. “Thanks.”

“Did Betsey have to knock you out to get you here? Or did you just bump into someone from the opposition party after you arrived?” Angelica gestured to the spectacular bruise across Alex’s face. The red had changed to a vivid dark purple, and spread down across his temple to the corner of his eye.

Eliza shook her head, unamused, but Alex laughed. “Something like that.”

Angelica leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you’re doing okay, sweetie.”

“My darling wife wouldn’t have it any other way.” He rolled his head on the pillow to look adoringly at Eliza. “She couldn’t give me her kidney fast enough.”

Eliza felt a blush creeping over her face. When the doctor had confirmed that Alex was suffering from an infection in his kidneys, she’d googled the disease to find a complication could be permanent kidney damage. She’d suggested, quite reasonably in her view, getting tested to see if she could be a donor. While the doctor informed her that wouldn’t be necessary, Alex had laughed so hard he’d set off one of the alarms over his bed.

“Sounds about right,” Angelica said, sending her a wry smile.

“Shut up, both of you,” she said, though she couldn’t quite keep the smile off her own face. Alex was always telling her she was far too generous; she didn’t imagine he’d let this example go anytime soon. Even so, she didn’t regret asking—there was nothing she wouldn’t give to keep him healthy by her side.

“Mean,” Alex charged.

Eliza squeezed his hand when he winked at her. That he felt well enough to tease her made her feel blissful relief. She never wanted to see him as quiet and exhausted as he’d been when she first found him in the room.

“Elizabeth?” Her father’s voice came from the hallway. She rose and peeked her head around the curtain.

“In here,” she confirmed. Her parents both entered, her mother carrying Philip. The sight of her little boy made her grin, and quickly reached out to pull him into her arms.

Pip looked nervous about the unfamiliar surroundings. He was sucking on his thumb anxiously. “Hi baby,” Eliza greeted, rubbing his back.

“Come here, Pip,” Alex invited, holding his arms out. She frowned, but he waved his hand more insistently, so she placed the baby on the bed beside him. “Want to see something fun?”

Grabbing at the little remote beside him, Alex pressed the button to lower the bed back, then pressed it again to raise it. Pip looked delighted at the game, and his eyes lit up when Alex passed him the remote. Though she kept an eye on Alex to make sure he wasn’t overexerting himself, she gratefully fell into her mother’s embrace.

With the love of her family surrounding her, she let her shoulders relax, the fear and terror that had griped her when Alex had first collapsed easing slightly at last.

“What do you think of adding another paragraph about the economic toll here?” Eliza immediately recognized Senator Washington’s voice when she turned into the hospital room, freshly showered and carrying fresh clothes for her husband.

Alex had tried to convince her to go home to sleep last night, but she’d steadfastly refused. She’d only left this morning on the promise that she’d be bringing him home with her in the next few hours. She’d cleaned up the apartment, placed fresh sheets on the bed, and made sure they had all the supplies they’d need when Alex was released, including the veritable cornucopia of prescriptions his doctor had called into their pharmacy.

“I really don’t think you need—oh, hey ‘liza.”

She paused at the curtain and frowned heavily. Alex’s eyes were still heavily circled with exhaustion behind his thick rimmed glasses, and the horrible bruise on his temple was slowly turning from blue to green. One hand braced against his abdomen, he had been examining a yellow legal pad the Senator was holding out to him. He’d pushed it away quickly upon seeing her.

“I wasn’t working,” he added quickly.

“Mm,” she hummed.

“My apologies, Mrs. Hamilton.” Washington said. He patted Alex’s shoulder with fatherly affection as he flipped the legal pad closed and slid it back into his briefcase. “Feel better soon, son. You’re sorely missed at the office.”

“Thank you sir.”

“I’ll leave you in your wife’s capable hands.” Washington nodded to her as he rose to exit.

“Thank you, Senator,” she echoed as he passed her.

“I only peeked at the speech,” Alex insisted once he’d gone.

“It’s fine, honey,” she said, mostly sincere. “I’m glad you feel well enough to try to go around me.”

He laughed. “Are you here to spring me?”

“That’s the plan. I have fresh clothes for you.” She held up her bundle for him to see. “Promise me you’ll take it easy when we get home though? No work.”

“Whatever you say. I just want to go home.” He was already pushing back his blankets to sit up, groaning softly with the effort. She hurried to his side to halt his progress.

“Let me go talk to the nurse before you get up, sweetheart.” He looked very unhappy at the instruction. Kissing him, she assured him, “We’ll get you home soon.”

Discharging him felt as tedious as admitting him, but at least she was with him while they waited. When at least he was free to leave, he was frustrated by being wheeled out to the cab, but the continued shakiness of his limbs made her sure it was for the best. She slid into the cab beside him, and he leaned his head onto her shoulder as she gave their address to the driver.

“I’ve got the TV set up in the bedroom for you,” she said, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as they rode towards home. “And I picked up all your medicine. We’ll get you all tucked in and comfy, put on a movie, and snuggle.”

“Mm. Sounds perfect.” She felt him push away from her, and turned to face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about going to the doctor. I know I scared you. I can’t imagine how terrified I’d be if the situation were reversed.”

“It’s not an experience I’d like to repeat,” she agreed. “You’re so stubborn. I don’t mind so much normally, but I do when it comes to your health. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

“I’m not planning on letting you.”

“I noticed.” He smiled, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “You were ready to tear out your kidney right there in the hospital room. You know, when we promised ourselves to each other, that wasn’t a literal thing.”

“Says you.”

He laughed, then braced a hand on his abdomen. She laid her hand on his stomach as well, massaging slowly to soothe any discomfort. His hand rested atop hers. “For the record, I’d happily give you any of my internal organs if you ever needed them.”

“No offense, but I don’t think I want yours.”

“That’s fair.” He laughed again, but his eyes were soft. “I love you, Bets. So much.”

She reached out to cup his cheek, then leaned in, her nose nuzzling against his. “I love you, too.”

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #hamliza #sickfic #hospital #vomiting #fainting #modern au

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