#Anyway I Love || Beth and Luka

[whosxafraid]

Pixie:

Silence is condemning and as each second ticks by, she drops. First it’s her eyes that slide away from his face to hide the guilt that resides in them, the profound hurt, shame, and yes, grief. He doesn’t need to say or do anything at all, because she’s already said it all aloud already. She’s shrivelling up inside of her own skin because she is so much more cruel to herself than he could be if he tried, that’s a simple fact. She’s turned blame into a weapon and as a medical practitioner she knows exactly where to strike to do the most damage, and holds it all like a secret, something her therapist doesn’t know about or ever will if she has a say. Her shoulders are next, and the way they hunch forward makes her that much smaller, almost impossibly so, but while in most it might be seen as a protective measure, in her it’s merely the weight of holding herself upright; she’s crumbling and couldn’t stop herself if she tried. Her head falls next, and suddenly the space between their feet is the most important thing in the world, worthy of perpetual examination. And maybe a little piece of her wants to hate him for asking, herself for having to answer truthfully. Could she not have made up a fable? She’s always loved stories, has read hundreds of books. With their line of work she’s heard a million narratives of situations that while they were not similar, tragedies compared to romance, she might have found something that would suffice to satiate his curiosity. And yet, she could not bring herself to do it. She couldn’t lie to his face, spit in everything that was now beyond reach except with the twin hands of nostalgia and bittersweet memory. But the floor can give her no absolution, and she tries to muster up enough courage to look up once again, just a quick peek so that she can try to fathom his expression. And just as she does, there’s movement that reminds her so much of the restless stretch and shift of tectonic plates. The tender-rough graze of calloused fingers against the bones of her jaw proudly bearing her Irish ancestry in shape and stubbornness, almost too strong for the softness of the rest of her. His skin is fire and burns her as that caress ventures its way south. It isn’t exactly forceful, but she cannot look away from him, not the way his eyes are striking into her very soul. Can he see the lilting shades of fear, of newborn sorrow? Can he possibly taste the stillness of breath and heart because she’s waiting for him to shove her from him, cleaving her in half, never to be put back together? She barely survived being parted from Andy, she can’t now be expected to give him up, give up the little girl so innocent in her sleep. Her neck cranes a moment in an uncharacteristic flinch, an indication that of all the things she expected, his lips pressed against hers was the very last thing she might have guessed. The passion that she knows smokes through his veins, smouldering against his skin, is absent here, but the weight of his lips on either side of her lower one speaks its own testimonial. Her lashes drift shut though not completely. They never do, sometimes not even in sleep. She swears she hears her own heart breaking when he pulls away from her, but he doesn’t go far. Almost every word said is the warmth of his breath on her face. Each one draws the sea out of her in the form of single drops of salt water leaking at the corners of her eyes, slowly at first then quicker by the moment. Her eyes dart over his features half to blink away the tears and half to read every line of his expression as if it were braille and need be touched to be fathomed. “Be-because i’ should. Because…you should. Because…everyt’ing…I…” The answer comes skittering about her and seems to flee in different directions, unable to be easily corralled. How does she explain that her life exists in a perpetual state of emergency, of not quite thriving but rather continuously preparing for some kind of wrath or vengeance indefinitely postponed? That she doesn’t know how to take his assurances because the last time she put her faith in someone else… But that’s exactly the point he’s making, isn’t it. That it is okay to put faith in him because he has no intention of walking away, or at least not right now. And tomorrow she could be hit by a bus. That there is no point in trying to control everything because they are merely human and not some ineffable divine being. And if the worst thing she’s ever done is to follow her heart where it leads her? Then he can not fault her any more than he can fault the sun for shining. Or maybe that’s what she needs to believe, and he’s making it easy by continuing to caress her cheek, by continuing to try and share reason with her. Tentatively, she puts her arms around his waist and sets her brow against his chest. “Tell me wha’ t’ do here, Lu’a. I…don’ know wha’ f’ t’ink right now, wha’ f’ say. You an’ Malia… ya bot’ my life righ’ now an’ I no can picture havin’ you two gone from it. But I also don’ know…how t’ feel wi’ all of dis in front of us.”

Tears.

Every single one cuts him. Burns those cuts like alcohol. But no amount of strength could pull away his touch. Wouldn’t pull it away even if he could. Because the truth is...he cant be sure he wouldn’t let her burn him to ash if it meant just a spare few more moments of her presents. And that alone should terrify the hell out of him. The last time he’d felt like this about anybody--well it hadn’t ended all the great had it? Absolutely horrid in fact. And yet there’s something else to the way he feels isn't there? Because no matter what anyone says you never love the same way twice. And you don’t. Not really. Each person through out a life that runs away with your heart--you love them each differently. No matter what the relationship is--every single one is different. And what makes how he loves Beth different from the love there was before? He didn't have to chase her. He didn't have to prove a damn thing. He didn’t to come up with intricate ways to show her he loves her. He just has to be. And fuck all how desperate he feels to make her see that.

But words...have never gone much further than to settle about her like a lace shroud. And that’s been a challenge--still is--but that’s how it goes isn’t it? You mold and shape and change yourself in tiny ways sometimes without noticing because understanding her became a priority. Became a want that became a need. And he isn’t afraid to admit that, even if he should be. He needs her. Maria needs her. But its a wanting need isn’t it? A brilliantly bright wanting need. Beth Riley has never been wanted and needed. Needed was always first from the what little she’s shared and that’s heart breaking that no one has ever told her they wanted her around. A small internal side eye at the concept of slapping the backside of her brother’s head when he eventually gets to wherever it is he’ll end up when he dies. 

But right now isn’t about beating sense into non existent ghosts. What it is about is that Beth is drowning in her guilt and he’s got to do the heavy lifting right now. That’s clear. Even before the confused words. Before the physical process of letting him hold her up. A movement that does dislodge his hand but it finds a new home at the back of her head. The other coming to rest at her back. Walling her in on all sides from the world. Where it can’t see her and she can’t see it. A bow of his spine and neck to put his own forehead against her crown. And there he lets her next words hang until they settle. Eyes closing as his own mouth starts moving.

            “Let it go, Luv.”

Because that was the best advise he’d ever been given. Handed to him with a bone crushing hug and hands he’s known since birth laid up on both cheeks. Advice that while he was still working on the last few fingers attached to his own personal rope of baggage, at least he hadn’t given up. Hadn’t because he couldn’t. Because he was needed. And Beth? Beth is in that exact same boat in this moment. Doesn’t know how to keep living with it and doesn’t know how not to. But that’s an aspect of life isn’t? Probably one of the harder ones. Letting go of the guilt. Acknowledging to yourself and the proverbial world: I will not let this defeat me. 

          “Ye be beatin’ yeself uh’ o’er d’ings ye canna change. Loi’fe for me happened...but oi can promise ye roi’ght now oi’ dunna have a single d’ing ta send me packin’ o’er, ye hear? No one d'ing.”

A breath taken to try fixing the way his voice shakes out of key. 

          “Oi’ luv ye, Be’d. Oi’ canna possibly be anymore in luv wi’d ye d’an oi’ am an’ yet some how ye be provin’ d’ere always goin’ ta be one more d’ing that raises d’at bar. M’no goin’ anywhere, Be’d.”

A re-wrapping of his arms around her. A nudge of his nose against her forehead to get her to look up at him. 

          “An’ f’ye canna le’ i’ go roi’ght o’way d’ats okay. Still be working on lettin’ me own shoi’te go, bu’ oi’m workin’. An’ d’at be exactly wha’ ye need ta do. Jus’ one foot in front o’da o’der, luv. One step ah’ o’toi’me. Oi’ be roi’ght d’ere wi’d ye. Even f’oi’ do go’ta take wee baby steps.”

[beclynn-herondale]

Clace playlist/songs that remind me of Clace

Hearts by Jessie Ware

Salvation by Gabrielle Aplin

Wildest Moments by Jessie Ware

The Other Side by Ruelle

So It Goes... By Taylor Swift

Gold Rush by Taylor Swift

Hopeless Me by Alicia Moffet

Emotional Fire by Cher

We Belong by Pat Benatar

Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine

The Lakes by Taylor Swift

Superstar by MARINA

Something I Need by Onerepublic

Feel Again by Onerepublic

Love Someone by Lukas Graham

How Long Will I Love You by Ellie Goulding

Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur

Warrior by Beth Crowley

How It Ends by Beth Crowley

Pure by Victoria Carbol

Us by James Bay

Stand By You by Marlisa

Pieces by Rob Thomas

Glass House by Morgan Saint

All I Know by Beth Crowley

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift

You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

This Love by Taylor Swift

Falling Like The Stars by James Arthur

High Hopes by Kodaline

The Riddle by Kodaline

Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Temporary Love by Ben Platt

Piece by Piece by Kelly Clarkson

War Paint by Kelly Clarkson

Care by Kodaline

False God by Taylor Swift

Love Me Anyway by P!nk

Chasing Cars by Snow Parlor

Save Me by Noah Kahan

Lost My Mind by Alice Kristiansen

Heart by Sleeping At Last

Where's My Love [french version] by SYML

Broken by Lovelytheband

Venus by Sleeping At Last

Home (the rak sessions) by Gabrielle Aplin

All For You by The Light The Heat

Leave a Light On by Tom Walker

Bridges by Aisha Badru

Sinners by Lauren Aquilina

Smoke Clears by Andy Grammer

Your Love Is My Home by The Light The Heat

Bonfire Heart by James Blunt

Dear True Love by Sleeping At Last

Too Young by Sabrina Carpenter

Monsters by Katie Sky

Armor by Landon Austin

Angel by Theory of A Deadman

Let Me In by Jenn Whitlock

Love Changes Everything by Ruelle

Someone To Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Eyelids by PVRIS

Issues by Alicia Moffet and Kurt Hugo Schneider

Love Me Again by Katelyn Tarver

Don't Let It Change You by Katelyn Tarver

[brooklynislandgirl]

What’s your wildest fantasy?

A Little Light/A Little Dark || -

Luka is home. And for the next six weeks before he rotates out, she can enjoy his company and not worry about what might be happening to him while he's on duty, or what might happen when he's off. Not that she ever worries about Luka finding 'a bit of strange' as Andy calls it in whatever town rises up around bases, or from other sailors on other ships. It doesn't even occur to her that bunk-mate might not be a euphemism. Neither does Luka have to worry that Beth is going to turn out like the Jersey Devil. First, Beth hated Jersey. Secondly, she wasn't tempted by earthly pleasures on her best day, and she couldn't imagine doing those kinds of things with people she doesn't know. Secondly, it's been three years and Beth hasn't even written to anyone else.

But mostly, it's all in the way she smiles down at his face as his head is nestled in her lap, and she's lazily dragging her nails down his scalp, leaving little furrows through his hair. It's getting a little long, and he'll probably buzz it before the month is out. And maybe she's a little disappointed that he keeps his eyes closed when he asks his question. Slow. Deep. That barely half-awake tone to his voice that really melts her bones.

Never let it be said though that Beth doesn't put up a good fight. She looks away from his face, eyes going toward the window of his apartment over looking the same street as hers. The lights over there are dim, and she can imagine the same soft instrumental radio on the stereo that she's playing here, where beer or whiskey replaces wine. "Oh, dat's easy. M' biggest fan'asy revolve around O'ahu. Jus' bein' back home. Sun slowly risin' ovah Pūpūkea. Every kine still as da waves drift in an' out." She mimics the motion with her hand, though one parts ways with his hair to fall onto his chest, just over his heart. "An' jus' when every kine turns gold an' da first swells really start going, pick up my board an' race across da sand, launching into dat immaculate water. Followed of course...by Da Admiral. Who wipes out on a rip tide and gets pulled undah, leavin' his board afloat cause he too stupid to lissen to me when I tell him put his leash on an' he get suck out to sea where Search an' Rescue cutters nevah find his body which got sucked along until he was deposited at da bottom of Marianas Trench an' became ono grindz for da dwellers in da deep."

Truthfully, that is the thing that Beth really does fantasise the most about, the different ways that the Admiral is murdered ~justly~ by the ocean, a truer and more loyal and loving a mother than she's ever really had. But Beth also knows that's not what Luka was asking and she can't help but to laugh a little. "Jus' playin', ya know. Okay so...for reals. Uhm." She tucks her lower lip back over her lower teeth and flicks her tongue across it a couple times, steeling her nerves. Letters from Beth are almost always sweet and can be read as platonic by anyone who doesn't really know her. Phone calls are similar, and there's always a little demure shyness when he's with her in person. As she absently considers her answer, her hand begins to drift southward down the broad expanse of his chest, and stops only when she reaches the washboard of his abs. "So dere's all dese movies, right? Where at da end, da sailor come sweepin' in and dey always officers, right? An' da girl always has dis manual labour or menial office job. Anyway, here he come wearin' his Full Dress whites, usually wi' da sabre...an' yes, I know dat's only f' officers....but he come sweeping in an' scoop her up an' bridal carry her away from whatevah she was doin''...wi' da cheers an' applause of her coworkers. An' den she usually reach up an' take his lid off an eiddah wear it herself or waves it around while try f' kiss him. An' I'm alla way dere, ya know. I want dat too. But den I wan wha' comes aftah, ya know? Get t' da car or truck. Struggle f' get da door open. "Alla'while, tearin' an' scratchin' an' pullin. Try to get as much flesh as can, because if can....can. Da feel of cool leather seat on bare back skin. Scrunchin' up skirts until dey pool around hips like multi-coloured cotton candy. No can wait t' get under-kine off. Just rip it, pull it aside or whatevah. An' I'm gonna be honest, Lulu, I wan....I want dat moment of almos' animalistic ruttin', because da passion is so ovahwhelmin' an' no one cares if someone see 'em li'dat..." Her hand begins to curl into an involuntary fist, dragging her nails across his belly. There's a little catch in her breath and a shiver pulses through her that cannot be politely ignored, especially not with the way her pulse begins to race. She clears her throat. "Uhm. Yeah. Dat."

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once, Chapter 50

Written by: Sol, Beth

Edited by: Erin

Finally, everything in Alex’s flat was back to normal. Mostly. Nick was happy to be sleeping in Alex’s bed again, with Steckrübe curled up in a friend-shaped ball between them. Nick watched lazily, snuggled against Alex’s side, as Alex sketched in his sketchbook.

“Alex…?” Nick buried his face into Alex’s arm.

“Yeah? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just… want to talk about something,” Nick sighed.

Alex put his sketchbook down and snuggled Nick. “What’s up?”

“I don’t remember anything from the hospital, and… it’s bothering me.”

“Oh, well, I suppose not a lot happened, really.” Alex said this to reassure Nick, but it was true. That month was the longest that Alex had ever experienced, as he had spent most of it waiting for Nick to recover. He had tried to distract himself in between visits, but as time dragged on his mind only wandered back to Nick in the hospital. “Paul, Bob and I visited every day. We knew you wouldn’t want to be alone. The nurses seemed to take good care of you though, but they’re all so busy that they weren’t always around.” 

"I...don't remember any of it, really," Nick admitted. Between all of his medications, all of the pain, and the amount of time he had spent asleep, the whole month was a dark blur in his memory.

“You don’t remember anything at all?”

“No… but I remember writing something...” Nick asked, not entirely sure which of his memories were actually real.

“Oh! Your letter!” Alex reached over to the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I keep it in there.”

Nick grinned, “you have it?”

“Of course I do! I still read it sometimes…”

“I don’t really know what I said.”

"You said you love me, for the first time," Alex said with a smile. “Well, not the first time. You had this little word board you would tap and you kept tapping the ‘I love you’ box… but I thought you were joking!”

Nick blushed and buried his face in the blanket, “oh, I think I remember that now! I was so worried that I would never be able to tell you…”

“I was worried too. It was really scary, Nick. You were all floppy and pale and just looked dead…”

“Yeah?” 

“Are you alright? Am I upsetting you?”

Nick shook his head, “keep going. I want to know more.”

Alex could have sworn he heard Nick’s voice break, but he continued anyway. “I was worried. I know it’s the last thing you want to hear, but we all had trouble believing you would make it.”

Nick couldn’t think of what to say, but squeezed Alex tightly. Alex wrapped both arms around Nick, reciprocating the firm yet gentle squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered as he rested his face on the top of Nick’s head, almost speaking into his hair, “I was just so worried. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to come back home.” 

“I’m here, now.” Nick reassured Alex softly, smiling into his chest. He didn’t ever want to spend such a long time away from him again. 

“I know. I’m so happy you are,” Alex carefully dragged his hand up and down Nick’s arm, cherishing how alive and warm Nick felt now compared to how he was in the hospital. 

The two sat in silence for a little while and held each other, savoring being able to get this close to each other once again. Then, Nick remembered something else from his time in the hospital. 

“Did… did Lukas visit?”

Alex’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“I remember him… I saw him, but I don’t know if it was real.”

“I couldn’t get hold of him, Nick. I’m sorry.” Alex stroked Nick’s hair and prayed that Nick wouldn’t remember that Alex had called Lukas. 

Nick breathed a sigh of relief; he didn’t want Lukas to worry about him anymore than he already had. I’ve caused him enough pain. But more memories from the hospital started to resurface in Nick’s mind, and he had a feeling that Alex wasn’t being entirely honest.

Nick suddenly tensed up. “I told you not to call him.”

Alex stared wide-eyed at the wall. Shit. 

“I… don’t remember you saying that, Nick.” Alex had no clue as to how Nick knew that he’d called Lukas, but grasped that the jig was up. 

“Well, I couldn’t exactly say it,” Nick held up his left hand, which had started twitching. “But I remember you telling me something…”

As Nick tried to recall their conversation, Alex suddenly began to feel uneasy. I can’t tell him. I can’t.

Nick slowly sat up and turned to look Alex in the eye. “Why didn’t he come to see me when you called?”

Alex took a deep breath. There was no point in lying anymore. 

“I’m sorry, Nick. I lied to you. I did speak to him, but…” Alex braced himself for what he was about to say. He had no idea how Nick would react. “He… didn’t want to come. He didn’t say why. I suppose he didn’t say much at all.”

Nick’s heart sank, and he slowly lay himself back down on the bed, his body becoming limp. “He must hate me.”

“No. No, he doesn’t,” Alex reassured him, although unsure of what he was saying, “no one who took care of you like he did would ever hate you. Plus, it’s a long way from Munich to Glasgow.”

Nick sighed, still not convinced, and pressed his face into Alex’s side. 

“It’s hard to see someone you love in the state you were in, Nick… he might not have wanted to see you like that again, especially since it’s not the first time you’ve been in a hospital. It could have been anything, really. He doesn’t hate you.”

Nick didn’t reply; he lacked the energy to think, let alone discuss this. He once again wrapped his arms around Alex, then fell asleep. Alex gazed down at him and frowned. I hope he’ll understand in the morning.

Alex slunk down the bed and cuddled closer to Nick, wrapping the duvet around them snugly to keep Nick warm. He listened to Nick’s slow and steady breathing before drifting off to sleep. 

--------

Nick was floating in complete darkness, a powerful force pulling him towards a couple of distant blurs in front of him against his will. As he drifted closer he could hear their muffled voices, and after a moment he could just about make out a few words that were spoken in German. He couldn’t tell what the two people were talking about, but it was clear that they were both furious. 

Nick lay still so that he didn’t draw attention to himself, and tried to concentrate on the conversation below. Wait… below? It was suddenly clear that he was floating above the two figures. Am I dead? Suddenly a bolt of hot agony ripped through his chest. Nick screamed out, his voice echoing, but neither of the men could hear him. If he could, he would have cried out again for help, but all he could do was gasp and choke. 

“Dein Bruder…” barked one of the men to the other, along with other words that Nick still couldn’t hear. “Verpiss dich!” replied the other. Nick immediately recognized that voice. Lukas!

Nick tried to call his brother’s name, but no sounds left his lips. He thrashed around in the air, trying with everything he had to reach down to Lukas. He threw all of his energy into the ground below him, until he crashed down onto the floor. Lukas and the other man disappeared, leaving Nick alone on the pavement, blood pouring out of him. He gasped and spluttered and…

“Nick? Nick!” 

Nick opened his eyes and saw another blurry figure, this time above him. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and drew a deep, welcome breath before involuntarily gasping Alex’s name. 

“Are you ok?!?”

As Nick snapped out of his nightmare, he began to realize that he was laying on the floor of Alex’s bedroom. His body was drained of energy after a fit so powerful that it threw him from the bed, and all Nick could do was stare up at Alex, still bleary-eyed. A haze of light surrounded his boyfriend, and Nick couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the sight. 

“You had a nightmare?” Alex helped Nick up and watched as he groggily crawled back onto the bed. 

Nick nodded and blinked some tears out of his eyes. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself. 

“Alright… I’ll be here if you need me,” Alex turned off the bedside lamp and climbed back into bed next to Nick. 

Not even twenty minutes later, Nick was back in the same nightmare, this time with his face on the concrete, trying his best to stay conscious. He could feel the blood pooling under himself. “Lukas,” Nick gasped out, seeing a figure a few feet, or meters, or kilometers away. “Lukas—”

Nick wanted to drag himself onto the pavement, to make it to get some medical attention, to get patched up and go home like nothing ever happened. But Lukas wasn’t there yet.

Upon hearing Nick calling for help, Alex shot up from his half-asleep state. “Nick?” He saw Nick thrashing and writhing next to him, and gently shook him to wake him up.

Even after he opened his eyes, Nick was still calling for Lukas.

“Nick, please, it’s just me,” Alex whispered, brushing Nick’s hair out of his face and trying to calm him down.

Nick blinked a few times, “Alex.”

“You’re alright.”

Nick rolled back onto his side and pulled up the blankets around himself again. Alex wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, squeezing him reassuringly. 

"Do you want to call him, Nick?" Nick craned his neck to look at Alex and nodded.

Alex reached over to the bedside cabinet and grabbed Nick’s phone. He searched for Lukas' number within it and then handed the phone to Nick as it rang.

Lukas answered on the eighth ring, each one causing Nick’s heart to beat faster. 

“Hello?”

“Lukas? It...it’s Nick.”

“Nick?” Lukas said, his voice heavy with sleep. “Wow, it’s great to hear your voice. Is everything alright? It’s so late…”

“It’s only one in the morning here, I—”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Are you ok?”

Nick smiled with a touch of relief, and Alex noticed him relax a little. While Alex was glad that their conversation was going seemingly well, he was still furious at him; why hadn’t he come to Glasgow, or even sent a text asking how Nick was doing?

“I’m ok now. What… what have you been up to?”

Alex wanted to shout down the phone: where the fuck have you been? What the fuck have you been up to while your brother was on his deathbed?

“I’ve been working a lot, doing band stuff… I’ve... I’m just busy, really.”

Alex could tell what Lukas had said based on the way Nick’s body had sunk back into his former crumpled position, a frown returning to his pale face.

“I miss you,” Nick blurted out after a few moments of silence, “I want to see you.”

“Nick, I told you when you left that I probably wouldn’t be able to visit.”

Both brothers were silent for what felt like a lifetime, except for the occasional, almost muted sound of Nick trying to stifle his tears, which Lukas could hear. 

“But, I suppose a lot might have changed since then.”

Nick’s ears pricked up at his brother’s words, unsure of what he meant by this. The continued silence was too painful to bear.

“Still there, Luk?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Lukas sighed, and continued his silence for a moment more. “You’re in a band now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nick responded, “we haven’t practiced in a while, considering I was nearly dead, but…”

Nick paused as he realized what he had just said. All he could hear on the other end was a sharp intake of breath, then silence. 

As Nick tried to think of something else to change the subject, Lukas finally broke the silence.

“Would you guys like to come to Munich to open for my band? Are you feeling well enough to?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Nick answered without even thinking, “we’d love that.”

“Fantastic! Can you come over in a couple of weeks? On the 15th? It’s at…”

“Lukas?” Nick didn’t understand his brother’s silence. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s at Das Haus. Is that ok?”

“Of course! I’m so excited, Luk! It’s been so long since--”

“Me too, Nitzki. I need to go to sleep now, but I promise I’ll call you again very soon.”

“Ok, goodnight Lukas. And… I can’t wait to see you.”

“You too, Nitzki. I’m… I’m really glad you’re ok. Goodnight.”

Nick grinned from ear to ear as he told Alex of Lukas’ proposition.

Alex couldn’t help but smile back, but inside he felt uneasy. He didn’t trust grand gestures, especially when they were made by people who had proven to be unreliable. To himself, Alex swore that if Lukas hurt Nick at all, he would live to regret it.  

--

Although Paul wasn’t even ten feet away from him, Bob felt alone.

Why won’t he sleep with me?

Bob sat up in the midnight darkness, knowing that he wouldn’t fall asleep. He saw Paul’s floppy mop of black hair poking out from the blankets on the other mattress on the opposite side of the room. 

He slept with me for a whole month, and now… Bob sighed as he gently pushed back the covers.

Bob decided to leave his bed for the living room, and upon standing up looked back at the pride flag hanging above his bed. Usually when he saw the huge flag that took up half the wall, Bob felt grateful. He was proud of himself for finally gathering the confidence to come out to the world, albeit slowly. However, whenever he spotted the flag as of late, he mostly just felt upset. When they gave him the flag, Bob’s parents had seen him and Paul as a perfect, happy couple. A couple that went on dates and called them dates. A couple that cuddled and kissed and got along.

Bob couldn’t understand why Paul would kiss him and hold him some days and not on others, and he certainly couldn’t fathom why that was as far as they had ever gotten.

He sleeps with Dino, so why not me? And we’re so much closer than he and Dino are… At least I think so…

Bob quietly crept out of the bedroom and began to tiptoe his way to the living room, until a wave of anger washed over him. Why should I do anything for him? He resumed his way to the living room, almost stomping his feet as he went.  

Bob threw himself down onto the sofa in a huff and crossed his arms. Why doesn’t he want me like that? What’s so fucking special about Dino?

His anger turned into rage as his mind dwelled on Paul and Dino together, doing things with each other that Bob wanted to do with Paul. He couldn’t get the image of the two of them together on New Years Eve: the way the two men danced together, gazing into the other’s eyes, grazing body parts against body parts...  

He grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it as hard has he could across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed on a sleeping Alvy, who, rudely awakened, let out a confused yelp. Alvy then jumped out of his bed and ran around it in rapid circles, barking furiously at the intruding item.

Bob tried in vain to calm his furry friend, who only ceased his barking when Paul stumbled into the room and switched on the light. Alvy stared at the cushion, confused, then returned to his bed, using the cushion as a pillow. Bob looked over at Paul, who was wearing only his pajama bottoms; Bob couldn’t help but stare at the dark-haired man’s naked torso, admiring the way shadows emphasized the angles of his body, every rib, his hip bones… He’s so beautiful. I hate him.

“Bob?” Paul’s croaking voice brought Bob back to reality. “What are you doing up? Is Alvy alright?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and yeah, he is. I just, uh, accidentally stepped on his tail. He’s ok now, though. Sorry we woke you up.”

“Ah, that’s ok, pal. Was just worried about Alvy.” Bob internally winced at Paul’s final word. Pal. Is that all I am to you?

Paul, too tired to notice that anything was the matter, yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I should head back to bed. Are you coming?”

Bob hesitated before answering, afraid to ask what he really wanted to. Paul, while waiting expectantly for a response, finally recognized that something wasn’t quite right. “Bob? Are you ok?”

“Yes. Yeah, I’m fine.” Bob had no idea how to honestly answer that question without sounding pathetic, but was desperate enough for human contact that he decided it was worth the risk. “Could you… Please could you stay with me tonight? In my bed? Or yours, I don’t mind.” The words tumbled out of Bob’s mouth faster than he could stop them. “We don’t have to do anything, I just want to be with you tonight… if that’s okay.”

It was Paul’s turn to hesitate, only for a few seconds. He reached out his hand to Bob, who took it and followed Paul to the bedroom. 

Paul took them to Bob’s bed, and lay down first. Bob lay on his side next to him, unsure of how close he was allowed to come, but Paul wrapped an arm around Bob’s shoulders with one arm and brought his body closer with the other. Bob savoured this moment and tightened the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Paul’s waist and nuzzling his face into Paul’s neck; it felt like heaven when Paul let him get this close.

It wasn’t long before Bob heard a faint snoring next to his ear. I suppose our chat will have to wait. Again.

“You told me you loved me,” Bob whispered to Paul, stroking his hair as he slept, “do you?”

Bob sighed and tried to finally get some sleep himself. He had so little time with Paul -- between their differing schedules and Paul’s emotional unavailability. They could have dinner together, some nights, if Paul wasn’t off running errands for a friend, or fixing something, and coming home with 150 pounds and a smile. Or maybe they could sit on the sofa and watch whatever cheesy game show was on as Bob worked on his homework and Paul did… whatever he did. At the moment, Bob wanted to savor every moment, stay up forever just enjoying the feeling of finally being in Paul’s arms, but he couldn’t. He had class the next day. Photography. With Alex. Bob needed to sleep. When he eventually did, still in Paul’s embrace, Bob dreamt of his sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend and all the things he wanted them to do together, his heart heavy even as he slept.

[moonllshadow]

A Lukanette moment...

Since Luka loves rock I bet he would like the classics... I was rewatching glee last night... And... Have you ever heard "Beth" from Kiss?

How about a moment where Luka sings this song to Marinette but instead of "Beth" he says "Nette"? Hahaha like:

"Nette I hear you calling but I can't come home right now..."

Well... Just playing with old classics... Because, you know it's from Kiss but its a ballad 😅 hahaha anyway... I really want him to sing her a song

[whosxafraid]

Meme:  Send “🎶🎵🎵” To hear my muse singing! Status: Open Url: @brooklynislandgirl​

[ Chasing Cars (Reworked) - Snow Patrol ] A day off. Maria spending the night at her best friend’s house. Two rare occurrences that have aligned to give him precious room to breathe. He’d wished Beth had been able to take the day too but that might have been pressing his luck with the universe. So instead of a night out, instead of a date in---it became a few glasses of whiskey and a new book the Pixie had left on the coffee table. 

Though as the hours passed the book lost his attention. Probably thanks to one glass becoming two. And two becoming three. Until an unhealthy amount is now missing from the bottle and the clock on the wall is screaming its judgement in unheard ticking. Unheard for the ear buds nested in his ears as he sits in the least comfortable place. The fire escape just outside the living room window.

♫ We'll do it all...everything. On our own. We don't need...Anything or anyone. If I lay here...If I just lay here...Would you lie with me and just forget the world? ♫

A quiet kind of resonating timber to the words. He’d never been the best of singers but never the worst either. Though at the moment he would not care even if he realized he was following along with the music drifting around its audience of one. No idea at all he’s an audience of his own.

♫ I don't quite know...how to say, how I feel. Those three words are said too much. They're not enough. If I lay here, If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? ♫

Whiskey glassed green stares off over the city he’s come to call home. The one that unlike where he’s from never really sleeps. Always moving, always changing but always constant in all that it does. Which really doesn’t make sense if he thinks about it too hard, so he doesn’t. No instead smoke is sent spiraling into the open air between low slung verses. 

♫ Forget what we're told, before we get too old. Show me a garden that's bursting into life. Let's waste time, chasing cars around our heads. I need your grace to remind me, to find my own. If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? ♫ The last bit of whiskey in his glass knocked back. Another pull off the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. And maybe it will make sense to no one at all why the corner of his mouth draws up into something that could have been a smile in a previous life unlived. Something quietly--tentatively--happy in its whiskey colored numbness. A blink of youth to his features that hasn’t been seen in years.

♫Forget what we're told, before we get too old. Show me a garden that's bursting into life. All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes.They're all I can see.I don't know where. Confused about how as well. Just know that these things will never change for us at all. ♫  

Yet in the moment that it lives in the here and now, it is meant for someone not himself. And green passes away from the city to the low table by the window. A child made picture frame that holds the newest edition to their collection of memories. An afternoon at the pier. Maria sneaking bunny ears in at the last second behind their heads in the awkwardly angled selfie. 

♫ If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? ♫

Yet in the moment that it lives in the here and now...perhaps it grows into something real and true. Finds a temporarily permanent home upon his face. Even as his gaze is drawn back to the city scape and another bit of smoke is sent spiraling out into the crisp New York City night.

[whosxafraid]

Meme: OTP Parents Status: Open to past, current and plotted rom!ships only URL: @brooklynislandgirl​

who’s the one to wake up the kids:

That purely depends on the day.  Too often though it’s Luka just coming in from an extra shift. Rousing the little girl and calling her out of bed, while he grabs a fresh cup of coffee from the maker that Beth--saint that she is--set the timer on. Three cups later and he’s stumbling through helping to get her shoes on and her down the stairs. Hiding the exhaustion as he walks Maria to school, the walk back perhaps not quite so brisk. On the days he can’t be super dad Beth steps in the gap. Where mornings are a little less rushed because Beth is better at time management.

who makes the breakfast:

That depends on where the little girl is at breakfast. If she’s at home, its cereal and milk more often than not because da just doesn’t have the energy to cook and do dishes. When staying with her uncles, most of the time its Uncle Anrai’s very famous chocolate flat cakes and Uncle Doyle’s spicy potatoes. But perhaps her favorite is when she’s staying with Beth. Because Beth has a contact in the pastry world and that means donuts and pasties on the mornings they’ve time to stop by the café.

who’s the one to cry for everything:

Neither. Luka nor Beth are a crier and neither is Maria. No is no and while she might clam up and shut down--she’s never thrown a tantrum for something materialistic. 

who’s the more discipline parent and who’s the more lenient one:

Luka hands down is the stricter of the two. More likely to correct Maria over small things and ground her over larger ones. Beth on the other hand while hardly spineless when it comes to the little girl, is far more lenient. And may let certain things slide that Luka would not.

who helps with the science fair:

Beth. She is the one that went to school to be a doctor after all. She’s got the brains and the know how. And Luka while not stupid doesn’t discourage Beth from proverbially taking over the Science Fair project. Mostly because he knows Maria will have far better chances of passing with flying colors with Beth’s help than his own.

who does baby talk:

Neither. Beth came into Maria’s life far too late for it to even be a factor and Luka  was given explicit instructions even before Maria was born not to baby talk her. Was told that it was impede her intellectual growth and so he did not do it, and never did.

who wakes up for midnight feedings:

Maria is far too old now for such a thing to be a requirement, however there are nights that the little girl suffers from night terrors. PTSD triggered nightmares. And when Luka is home he takes the lead on comforting her. But when he is not, Beth steps up to the proverbial plate. Helping Maria anyway she can because that is what you do when someone you care about has been irreversibly traumatized. 

who’s the one who always worries:

Luka. Luka worries about Maria every second of every day. Even when he’s not thinking about her specifically he’s worrying. His actions led to his wife’s death and almost Maria’s. Everything he does now he does with Maria in mind. Putting himself second, often third or fourth in some cases. Maria comes first and with that comes the constant concern for her well being. Even when there’s no real cause too worry, he worries.

Beth on the other hand has a far more healthy dose of concern. She worries for Maria’s wellbeing, for Maria as a child that’s been through something she never should have had too, for Maria as a person--but not at such an extreme measure. T

who picks up the kids early from school for some fun:

Beth. Beth is definitely the more ‘fun’ of the two. She’s far more likely to surprise Maria with random half school days. Taking her for ice cream or that trip to the aquarium she’s been promising they’d go on. And sometimes just window shopping. Having a girls afternoon doing things that just isn’t quite the same were Luka to take her.

who’s the competitive parent:

I don’t know what this means. Sorry for the lack of response.

who kisses the ouches:

Both. Ouches don’t have a schedule. THey just happen. But when they happen whichever is closest and able provides all the support needed. Sometimes both do. Because that’s what a team is. You take care of each other and work together for mutually beneficial outcomes.

who’s the sucker for the puppy eyes:

Neither really. Both are usually quite immune to Maria’s ‘puppy eyes’. Luka out of exposure and Beth because she knows how to use her own wilds enough to know when wilds are being used on her. Occasionally though the ‘look’ does get the little girl what she wants. Enough that she continues to use it whenever she really really REALLY wants something.

who makes the “dad jokes”:

The rare times they are made, it is Luka making them. Though they are very rare and far in between. 

who embarrassed their kid for fun:

Luka nor Beth purposefully embarrass Maria though it still happens now and again.

who’s the over protective one:

Luka though Beth is a very close second. Luka has managed to keep his daughter a secret from all of his co-workers. Even his partner. The only one that knows Maria is his Captain. He does not want a repeat and trusts his colleagues only as far as he could lift each one and throw them. But that’s what happens when your wife gets murdered on account of someone in your old job being a snitch. Beth is a close second because while it was utterly unplanned for her to discover Luka’s best kept secret...she has kept said secret. Because she understand the logic behind it, and why it is so very important to Luka.

who’s the “take a sweater!” parent:

Both. Though Beth is more inclined to verbally remind verses simply handing the little girl said sweater with the ‘if you want to exit the door put on your sweater’ expression in toe.

[whosxafraid]

Meme: You’re Still Awake? Starter Status: Open URL: @brooklynislandgirl​

Two am. Honestly he hadn’t really realized how late it was. Half paying mind to what ever late night garbage had been on the the television before his phone had reminded him he needed to call his mother. That she’d be awake now. Getting the kettle going and breakfast started. So he’d called. And they’d gotten lost in conversation. Playing catch up and trading stories. And maybe not for the first time in the last few months he realizes how much he misses home. How much he wishes they could go back. How much he can’t. And like all good things it’d eventually come to an end. Lochlann was getting up, and breakfast needed to get dished out. So the call had ended, leaving him there to sit on the couch. Alone in the semi-dark, facing things he hadn’t planned on.

Three twenty-two a.m. and Beth was suddenly there. The revolving door his mind had become coming to a rather abrupt halt. One he’s rather exceedingly thankful for, between the squeeze of her hands, brush of her lips and the questions (both auditory and otherwise) that come.

           “Aye...oi uh...called me, ma....toi’me go’away from me.”

And that truly is the truth more or less. Nothing that Beth needs to worry about, as his own hands come up to lay over top hers. Head angling to one side so he can look upwards. Give her a reassuing, albeit sleepy kind of grin. Not a lot of time between now and when they both have to be up for work but...he won’t be putting up much of a fight if she insists on going back to bed. A nap wouldn’t hurt. 

          “Wha’ ye doin’ up, love?”

          “Didn’a wake ye did oi’”?”

[whosxafraid]

[i was gonna respond to this IC but OMF LIKE THIS IS AMAZING?! AND I CANT. MY FEELS. kjfasld;jfkasd;lkjasdf thank you so much for this. its fanTASTIC. :3 -all the loves to you and Beth-]

[whosxafraid]

Meme: Send uncomfortable questions to my muse! Status: Open URL: @brooklynislandgirl​

The question echos...weirdly in his head. Like gun fire triggered to close to his ear. Ringing that goes on into oblivion. A familiar sort of sound, familiar sort of sensation because it’s happened before. Happened when--no. Not going there. Not right now. He’s been there enough in the last few minutes. And just when he’d thought about going back inside--he lights another cigarette. Expels the smoke in a rush, takes another drag. Already glassy gaze stuck on the railing of the fire escape. Because--had he ever...?

Finishing the sentence makes his stomach pitch. Having the beginnings of it rolling around in his head makes him want to hurl. He’d never once considered that no. Never once questioned. Because his w--C--she’d been a good person. They’d been in love, gotten swept up in each other, and sure there were questions whether or not they’d gotten married because Maria but that just wasn’t true. They’d both wanted kids. They’d jumped head long into everything quick and decisive like they’re whole relationship had been--up until it hadn’t and...

He leans back heavy on the iron bars behind him. Lets his head thunk against them. Another drag of smoke taken in and pushed out. Letting it all swirl into a mess down the drain. Pick and choose and throw it all back in and keep letting it turn until it made god damn sense. Because now the doubts set in. Now the little signs he’d missed...he starts seeing them in other places. In sooner places in...green shuts against the city lights. Shuts against the turmoil and the confusion. Shuts against...a lot of things. And there he stays frozen like stone for moments. Listening to the city sounds and Beth’s quiet breathing. 

         “No...”

         “No’ oi’ ne’er...ne’er k’estioned i’ah all.”

         “C...Connie were o’great many d’ings oi’ve discovered bu’...ne’er d’at. An’ oi’ll no accept i’ o’bout ‘er til facts prove me wrong.”

Because he can’t lose Maria too. He can’t. That little girl is the center of his universe. The light of his life. The reason he gets up in the morning, and the period at the end of every other one to keep breathing. She’s his. And always will be. No matter what that fecking piece of paper comes back inked with.

[whosxafraid]

“It’s probably some rabid wolves or something, not some ‘mythical creature’.” {{cop}}

Meme: Myth and Magic Sentence StartersStatus: Open

The look upon his face–would tell nearly anyone in the world he’d been kidding. Aside from the fact he is hardly one to believe in bloody big foots or jersey devils. The only real monsters were people these days. Still what’s lying there in the alley almost eerily square center on the line between districts isn’t…normal. Not that a dead body is normal because it isn’t. It’s just less normal for said dead body to be in pieces. Eighteen of them so far and the bigger chunks heavily lacerated. Not to mention the the heart and liver are still missing. 

Christ, he hates Halloween.

But shit like this comes with the job and gloves are worked into as he crouches down. LIfts a bit of grime covered paper loose of what he guesses used to be part of the body’s hand. Turning it over and back again. A bit of printed ink catching his attention before he’s dropping it into a bag from one of the CSI’s kits.

             “Wolves huh?”

              “Didna d’ink d’ey come d’is far inta d’city.”

Because he isn’t about to dance the ballroom waltz that is cracking the joke about werewolves. He’ll leave that to House–who he knows will do exactly that. Eventually anyway. No instead he’s scanning the tapped of area. Mythodically tracing and retracing is visual steps. For anything at all he might have missed the first eight times.

[whosxafraid]

Here Comes Hallo--

There are some days he gets to come home like a normal nine to fiver. Some days he gets stuck in traffic same as the rest of the city. Some days he gets to walk through his front door before dinner has come and gone from the table. And today is one of those days. Expecting to attempt something with the groceries he’d picked up on his way. Thankful he’s got a chance to give Maria something for dinner that doesn’t come out of a box. Let Beth actually go home and get some sleep if she wants, though he hopes she’ll stay...

And the key is put in the lock, the sound of music has his brows knitting only a little, as the lock clicks and he pushes the door open. Where he’s instantly accosted with...Monster what now? And the groceries are set on the kitchen table as feet shift him down the hall. Stopping short at Maria’s door, her name catching in the breath he takes to voice it because...

They did the mash, they did the monster mas. The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash...

Maria twirling perfectly beneath Beth’s stabilizing hand, before they’re spinning and swinging to the music. His little girl laughing in a way he hasn’t heard in ages, from beneath a very odd looking monster mask that’s been pushed up atop her head. And for a few moments he’s simply taken with the sight. Enjoying it for what it is, even if he’s still trying to piece together what exactly could have led to this. Then again it is Beth and Maria. He could leave them in a white room and they’d come out having invented four games complete with rules and unbeatable strategies.

Eventually though, the music ends and the only thing he can think to do is applaud. Shifting from one side of the door way to the next. Arms folded in the wake of his appreciation. Maria making a proper ballerina bow.

       “Were lovely, biteen...wee bi’ concered wi’d d’ghoul mask, ballerina ansaumble bu--”

                 Halloween, Da! Kids at school were talking about it and Beth was showin’ me Monster Mash! Can I try trick or treating this year, Da? Mrs. Levi said there’s even going to be a costume contest at school!

And some where around trick his stomach sinks into the proverbial floorboards. It’s October first, which means...only twenty-nine more days until the night half of Belfast seems to lose their minds, and while he’s not one hundred percent sure New York is any different, he’s also not one hundred percent sure it isn’t either. And there’s a sigh, that he can pretend can be blamed on the movement of crouching down. Two wee hands in his and for a second...he’s very tempted to put a hard no down, here and now. Because its not safe...no matter what city its in but--You can’t rob her of holidays just because a few people take it too far. We’re going and you can either swallow it or be around for a change!

       “We’ll see, aye? For now, go n’wash uh, aye? Bought stuff for bacon an’ cabbage soup plus cheese boxtys.”

              YES! Cheese Boxtys!

And he watches his little girl go bouncing down the hall towards her bathroom. And maybe for a minute? Maybe he really does consider saying yes, but the truth is new place or not it’s still dangerous...for any kid. But there are things Maria doesn’t know. Extra monsters in the dark that might be there. That know her name. That might hurt her. Because her old fool of a father hadn’t known when to leave well enough alone. And there’s another sigh with the small shake of his head as he shifts to stand up straight again. Gaze stuck on the now empty hallway.

        “Goin’ ta hate me when oi’ have ta tell’er no...”

[whosxafraid]

{Cop} Lissen t' me carefully, k? I WANT TO HANDCUFF YOU to this holding cell and not in the fun hawt way. Got me, O'Rian?

Meme: I want to _____ youStatus: Selectively Open 

           Ye couldna manage i’ wi’d o’an army o’ye.

It’s the first thing that comes to mind, even as he bites it down because if he’s learned anything? Do not tempt fate by challenging the idea you could survive the onslaught of an army of small women. Espeically if those small women happen to be Beth. So instead he’s stepping up to the proverbial bars shaped line in the sand between them. Glaring down at her with every bit of his short tempered hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours frustration.

          “Would ye keep ye feckin’ voice down?! S’feckin’ suspicious o’nough puttin’ ye in here o’way from d’rabble.”

The words are hissed, as frantic in the undertow as they are angry on the surface. Because he cares. Because what she volunteered and dropped off the face of the fucking planet for was suicidal. He doesn’t know why she did it, other than like him she’s a good cop. Will go the millage to make a wrong right. But it doesn’t negate how fucking confused and ultimately terrified he was when he’d made that blind bust and discovered her among half a dozen of New York’s want-to-be most wanted.

         “Feck were ye d’inkin’, uh? Ye go’ any oi’dea….M—she d’ink’s yer in feckin’ Cali roi’ght now. Oi’ d’ought ye were forchroi’st sake—”

He trips…falters. Takes a step back from the firing line. Because this isn’t where he wants to be. Where he wants this kind of discussion to happen. Or how. Doesn’t want to have this discussion at all. Because at the end of it? He’s fucking terrified where that’s going to leave them. 

         “Whoi’y wouldna ye feckin’ tell me?”

        “Jaysus, Be’d.”

[whosxafraid]

Puzzles, Healing and Us...

Tracked from [x]

              Wha’ make ya t’ink I like ye now? 

A week has come and gone. And he’s still cooped up in this place. White washed walls about to drive him this side of insane. His brother freshly left for their shift, after taking Maria to school. So it’s just them and maybe later he’ll blame the pain killers for even asking the question. Because now? Christ he’s regretting it. Even if everything in him says she’s teasing him, it’s hard to damn tell with her sometimes. So instead of how he might usually respond. Instead of the off the cuff snark...he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he keeps his gaze stuck on the puzzle piece in his hand. Turning it round between thumb and forefinger. Watching the piece of what he thinks is a unicorn’s rainbow tail spin slowly into oblivion. Does what he can to ignore the fact it’s trembling a  little bit because morphine makes him jittery. But it’s either the jitters or literally feeling the holes in his chest and the gashes in his face heal bit by bit. He’ll take the minimal shakes.

And the moments beat by to the soundtrack of the EKG he wants to put his fist through. No matter how much they turn it down. It still echos in his ears like the gun shots that put him in here. Gun shots he later learned weren’t exactly personal. Just been in a the wrong place a the wrong time. A couple of gang bangers that had decided to send Mack a message. Why? Because Mack was a stubborn fuck and didn’t give into them trying to muscle their way into his business. Luka? He’s just been collateral damage. The kind that had every cop in three precincts looking for the bastards.

The piece stops turning and he lifts it trying to put it where he’s thinks it goes. But depth perception isn’t all that great right now and it takes several attempts before he gets it in the right spot. His face blank of any emotional garbage her tease had dredged up. Because there’s something a little wrong about let all of that spill out all over his eight year old’s favorite puzzle. But its only beats more before Beth’s back peddling. Clarifying. Trying to make him feel better.

By explaining that yes she thought he was a tool if there ever was one the day they’d met. And he’ll give her that to a point. Because he’d been running on empty and hadn’t at all be prepared to have another cop’s collar collide into him because icy sidewalks were a bitch. Which in turn sent the entirety of that cup of coffee he’d needed more than a blood transplant all over him. And combine that with the lack of sleep? Sure maybe he’d shown his ass a little more than was necessary.

But she had crossed into district. On paper he’d been in the right. Though he’ll not remind her of that right now. Because she’s moved on to insulting what he’d been wearing that day. Which that he can’t really defend himself on. Style had just...become so unimportant in the wake of trying to keep his little girl looking as put together as possible. So to that there’s just the flicker of a smile. A silent kind of aye okay, ye go’ me d’ere.

Then again she’s moving on. Falling back on how much she admires him as a parent. That he’s great at it. And that because of that Luka remind her of...him. And that sits funny in his stomach. Like a little too much ice cream at the wrong angle, before it gives up the ghost and settles. Because its the highest complement she can give anyone. That’s clear. But it carries a weight to it. The kind he doesn’t know if even his shoulders are wide enough to hold up and bear. But there’s those three words that are still staring at him from the corner.  Three words that he knows mean more than they state. I need you. 

         “Well leas’ oi’ managed ta repair ye opinion,aye?”

A small sound that might have been a full fledged chuckle if he were feeling better. Shaky fingers winning the small battle of picking up another piece of the puzzle. Though it’s set down a moment later, because he really needs a drink. And he’s no supposed to be moving his left arm right now so...his right comes across him a little. Winding fingers around the Styrofoam cup, a few false starts because a cup of water is a wee bit different than a puzzle piece.

           “D’anks, Be’d...s’...noi’ce ta hear oi’ no’ be o’complete tool.”

And this time he’s the one teasing. Even if his tone doesn’t...quite nail the delivery; because Jesus Christ damn the nurse that filled this thing almost to the brim.

[whosxafraid]

Tracked from [ x ]

He feels...insufferably out of place. The looks he’d gotten on his way up, the fact he’d had to flash his badge at the door, should have been a clue to the disaster his ego was about to encounter. And maybe it had never really hit him quite so hard before the amount of money Beth had clearly been born into. Because the woman didn’t flaunt. Didn’t act like restaurants like this were even on the proverbial menu. And honestly he should have bloody looked up the god damn name when she’d told him where to meet. But he hadn’t thought about it. And how much of that is telling to how he trusts her verses how much of it is just him slipping--he’ll not pick one way or the other. Still though...he’s regretting not having cleaned up but he’d already been egregiously late and---

The apology tumbles out of his mouth with less grace than he’d hoped. Can already feel the back of his neck burning, turning colors. Because embarrassment is an understatement. And not just because of the surroundings, but the fact she’d planned this and his job had...once again gotten in the way. And Christ he feels like the back end of...something very unpleasant. The sigh that escapes pulling his shoulders down, along with everything else. Because she’s disappointed--she has every right to be...

But then....

The reddish tinge migrates a little. Spreads. And a chuckle makes its way out of him to release some of the pent up tension. Green cast away towards the table that should have sat between them and overheard a rather lovely evening. And there’s already ways to make up for all this, forming in the back of his mind. Though the reality is he doesn’t even really know where to begin. So instead...the badge is removed from his belt. Shoved into back pocket and there’s a grazing attempt to make his hair not look a mess. An arm offered to her as he steps round to accomodate. He might be blue collar, but he at least remembers how to manners.

           “Aye, as ye loi’ke, luv....”

           “Pre’y sure d’butlers goin’ ta d’row me ou’ on me arse any second, anyway.”

A joke to try and cover up the unease. (Even if he...horribly mislabels the ones that had attempted to keep him from entering the building.) The sheer undeniable truth that...she’s gracefully giving him an out. Gracefully trying to salvage the evening, because that’s what Beth is at her core. Grace. Grace to forgive and grace to endure. Grace to know when to be flexible, and when to put her foot squarely up his arse. Grace to l...care about him enough to know when he needs a lifeline. And at the end of the day, its one of the many reasons Beth Riley is perhaps exactly what he needs, maybe always had, and if he’s lucky...maybe always will.

[whosxafraid]

Rain Checks...

Tracked from [x]

He’s lagging. He knows that. Knew it was inevitably going to happen before they even started. But he couldn’t just rain check on their plans. Because you rain check on excercise once it becomes easier to do it again...and again...and again. And if there’s anything he needs to be good at aside from keeping his aim on par it’s running. Because almost never do the bad guys sit down and give up from the start. They like to run. Give themselves a last shot at getting away. So here he is. Falling further and further behind her, and his pride is taking punches from every side for it.

Though maybe it shouldn’t He’d caught a few hours of sleep on one of the cots at work but...it hadn’t been all that refreshing a sleep. And by the time his watch alarm was going off--he’d rushed through getting a shower throwing on spare jogging clothes from his locker and went to change his socks but---it looks like Maria had gotten into his laundry again. Switched around his socks because “It’s funner d’at way da.” And he’d had to roll with it, because he just didn’t have the time to go all the way home and make it back to the park in time. 

So when she stops, under the pretenses of tying a shoe that didn’t need it. He’s internally blessing her name and making a mental note to thank her later some how for the wordless save. And really it’s only a few moments before he’s caught up and then she’s....he doesn’t have the heart to tell her he can see through her acting like a piece of plastic wrap. Doesn’t have the energy to argue when she offers a coffee and a rain check. A controlled collasp next to her, failing to hide the wince from the catch in his back complaining. Because on top of everything he’d slept wrong on that brick hard cot.

          “Cramp, huh?”

           “...Roi’gh’ d’en...Give uh’ ye leg...see f’we canna work i’ ou’ enough ye dunna have ta be hoppin’ all d’way ta d’shop.”