#But Marty caught her eye because of his confidence

[thelesbianthespianposts]

something about how Lorraine Baines McFly raised her son to be someone that her younger self would have felt safe around. Especially since she was mistreated and harassed near-constantly by Biff. She raised her son to be kind and emotional and unafraid to stand up against bullies. No wonder she fell for him in the past.

[cherrysfanfics-ily]

Omggg I saw you did grease could you do headcannons for doody with a French male reader

Here is your request! Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you love it!! This is my first time doing headcannons like these, though I absolutely loved doing it!!

If there are any mistakes, please let me know!! <33

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Doody x Male! Reader

Word Count: 782

Warning: A tiny mention of the laws in the 1950s (didn't go into much detail)

before dating:

He was starstruck when he first saw you, Sonny had to tap his shoulder to get his attention back on the group

You had walked up to the school with Sandy, your cousin, and you caught his eye. He also caught your eye, but Sandy dragged you inside before you could look more

He stumbled over his words upon first speaking to you, especially after hearing your accent

If you allow it, he will have his arm resting around your shoulder most times under the guise of relaxing and not just wanting to touch you in some way

He is THE person to go and gossip with, you guys talk about what you’ve been hearing around school lately

People in the school really enjoy your accent so they go to you for advice, kind of like an excuse but because they assume you give good advice, and while you do share advice with them you also run to Doody and tell him the drama you were told

You accidentally broke one of his plastic water guns one day, and he let you get away with it but when Putzie broke one he forced him to get another for him (you also got another one for him but he told you, you didn’t have to)

If you are hanging with the group before he joins everyone for lunch, you are the first he acknowledges before acknowledging everyone else

You help him with his homework and classwork and he pays attention to everything you say

You are a T-bird so you're around the gangs a lot, and out of the ladies you're closest to Marty and you confide in her about your crush on Doody

He was the first to ask you out with the help of the other t-birds and Frenchy

He had Frenchy help reserve the diner for just the two of you and had the guy's help set it up to be romantic. There is music playing, a couple of candles, a few flowers, and a vinyl you were talking to him about

You definitely flirted with him in French and loved seeing him confused about what you said, you also refused to tell him yourself telling him to figure it out

when dating:

His love languages are touch and acts of service 

He loves holding your hand, or even just your pinky, and he loves doing things and getting you things that you mention you like

You call him 'My love, Honey, and a few French nicknames' and he calls you 'Beloved, My love, and dear'

His parents absolutely love you and always tell him so, which he relays back to you, and invites you to family game nights

He has always loved to hear you speak French, but he loves it so much more once you start dating 

especially when you call him a nickname in French

He loves sharing his lunch when you forget yours

He’d just plop down next to you and put his lunch in the middle of your guys’ laps

He sneaks little notes into your bag hoping you won’t notice (you do but you don’t say anything till after you guys meet back up)

You save the notes he gives you in an old box in your room, and when he finds it he is stuck to your side 

He gets you flowers and replaces them whenever they die (he likes seeing them in your room when he comes over)

He always hides you behind him when Bermudo and his gang come around as a way to protect you (even when he knows you can protect yourself, he just doesn't care)

You were the first to say I love you first, he was always too nervous and stumbled over his words when he tried

He had walked up to your front door with you, and you just told him, and he was blushy and nervous after you told him, but he said it back

You guys don't hide your guy's relationship, but you guys also don't announce it to everyone

there are some people who figured it out but give dirty looks towards you both, though you guys just ignore them

If it goes more than words doody won't hesitate to fight for you both, and neither are the gangs

You and Doody are following along with the laws and fighting to be together publicly 

If you guys ever fight, he will need time to calm down, but once he has, he’ll come back and talk it out

You guys met up at prom with matching ties, though you did not engage in the mooning (you did cover for him)

All in all, you guys love each other very much and he's just very much in love with you

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Marty was panicking. Alia seemed to be set on following Zephaniah despite the dangers the whole affair laid at her feet. He was pretty sure her father trying to dissuade her from going was part of the reason she was so determined. She wanted to try helping, he understood that, but Marty was pretty sure she was partly doing it out of spite as well.

Alia finally turned away from the bag, from the things she’d packed in the hopes of making her journey that little bit easier. She looked tired, dark circles dusted the skin beneath her eyes and he could have sworn there was a slight puffiness there as well. Marty wanted to ask how she was, wanted to check that she was sleeping enough, that she was eating enough. He knew Freddy had probably already been through all those things with her, already played mother hen with much more vigour than he could. And, Marty knew that in asking those questions, he’d only make her distance herself a little further from him.

‘What are you gawking at?’ she asked, her attention shifting towards him. Despite all the things that worried Marty, none of them concerned him more than the steely look of determination that shone brightly behind her dark eyes. They seemed to sparkle like freshly polished wood.

‘Please don’t go,’ he said before he could stop himself. A lump formed in his throat, cutting off any more of his words. He didn’t know how else to ask her not to do this; didn’t want her to think he thought poorly of her. That wasn’t the reason for his trepidation. Far from it, in fact.

Whatever reaction Marty had been expecting, it wasn’t for her to take a deep breath, as if she were steeling herself for something. She wetted her lips nervously before meticulously folding her arms; all of it made Marty think she was stalling, but he couldn’t figure out why.

‘I have to,’ she said softly, not quite meeting his eye. ‘I… I don’t want to, but it’s the only option we’ve got.’

‘No it isn’t,’ Marty said, taking a step towards her.

Alia looked at him directly. A sad little smile danced at the corner of her lips, never fully forming. ‘If I won’t do this, how can I expect somebody else to?’

‘I could come with you.’

Alia was already shaking her head before Marty had finished his suggestion. ‘I need someone here if something goes wrong. Please.’ Her voice caught ever so slightly on the final word, the only tell Marty had ever seen her give that she wasn’t quite as confident about her decision. And in that moment Marty knew staying back was the only choice. Alia needed to do this, not just because of her moral obligation, but for herself.

So, despite how difficult it was for him, Marty nodded. He tried to shoot her a small smile, but the gesture felt hollow. Still, he wouldn’t take this away from her; he’d just make sure he was here to bring her back home safely if she needed it.

[creativeashproductions]

In the Beginning // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie (Rhodes)’s older sister is the epitome of cool in his, and his friends, eyes with her in a band. Pushed by a hazel eyed brunette with a huge crush on the eldest Rhodes teen the boys decide to start a band. While at first the band is for Luke’s dream of landing you he finds his passion with music.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, dad!Luke

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist writing another alive!Luke fic with Luke crushing on his band mate’s sister. Ugh, just imagine Luke suggesting a band to impress his crush only to fall in love with music instead.  For my fics it will be Alex Mitchell and Reggie Rhodes until JATP reveals their canon names. 

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1992

The guitar case was a familiar heaviness as you walked into the home for the first time in months after a practice. You ached from the long travel, and all you wanted was your bed. The yawn came first, then the startled yell at the living room.

Four pairs of eyes met the girl standing in the entryway, surprised at a sleepover with her brother and his full friends. Eyebrows coming together you shook your head wondering why they had come here instead of the typical Patterson home.

“Hey!” Fourteen-year-old Reggie beamed towards his older sister excited she was back from her weekend band practice. Your eyes blinked at his usual upbeat personality before switching to the brown eyes from Bobby, too shy to full meet yours.

Spread around the living room watching a movie was Reggie’s best friends; the socially awkward Alex, the shy Bobby, and the Patterson boy Luke. The young typically spent their time at Luke’s place, so seeing them in your home was strange.

“Reg, what’s up?” You asked crouching to untie your shoes confused at the sharp audible gasp coming from Luke. Standing straight up, you saw Luke awkwardly looking away with bright red cheeks.

“How was practice?” Reggie inquired with the smile he got from your mom and his dark hair from your dad.

Reggie usually wasn’t interested in your band leading you to wonder what the hell was going on with them. Being sixteen you didn’t socialize with Reggie’s friends, thanks to the two year age gap, but you were happy he had good friends. Well, less than two years between you and Luke.

“It was good. Since when are you interested in Crimson Queen?” You questioned moving more into the room with the four young teens, “You haven’t even touched your bass in years.”

One eyebrow raised you individually looked at the boys in the room all with sheets of paper around them. From a distance, you couldn’t tell what was on them, but it couldn’t be homework. They all attended the same high school while you had done correspondence with the band and a tutor.

“Luke’s parents got him a guitar,” Reggie spoke gesturing to the decent brand new acoustic guitar on the floor beside the Patterson. Luke’s hazel eyes widening as you came closer to the group.

Your hand picking up the guitar to look it over finding it was decent for a beginner, but it was definitely not tuned. The sheer sound made you wince.

“So, you guys want to be a band?” You questioned sitting on the floor beside Luke. The boy shifting nervously, you weren’t blind that he got shy around girls, “Do you guys even play instruments?”

“I got the bass, Bobby can play rhythm guitar, Alex plays dru-“

“I wouldn’t call it proper drumming. It’s just something my therapist suggested with my anxiety and frustrations.” Alex raised his hand leading to everyone in the room looking at the tall male, recently had a growth spurt, with the backward black hat.

“And Luke will learn guitar as well.” You added, looking at the quiet, “How well can you play?”

“I don’t even know how to properly tune it,” Luke admitted playing with his fingers adorned with a ring.

Luke had chosen a cutoff shirt in an attempt to gain your attention to his arms he hoped had gotten more muscled. He had a massive crush on you but with the guys your own age he had step up; he started working out. He actually enjoyed it, but he’d enjoy it more if you were checking him out.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You mumbled glancing out the window at the ocean waves thinking. The house was on the prime real estate edge of the beach all thanks to your well off parents; Dad, a doctor and Mom, an interior designer.

Your fingers tapped on the ripped blue jeans you had chosen that day with the flannel shirt opened over the black AC/DC t-shirt. You started standing up, grabbing Luke’s hand to pull him up as well; the boy’s cheeks grew pinker, and his heart fluttered.

“What?” Luke spluttered, staring at his hand, caught in yours in sheer awe.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You answered, dropping is head to reach in your pocket for your key chain.

The key chain had a few keys on it: one for home, one for your car, one for the band van for gigs, one for the garage, and lastly one for the house the garage belonged to. The boys piled into the car, apprehensive for where you were taking them. The only sound was the radio playing local greatest hits, your foot slammed on the brake at the house of your bassist.

“Well Marty, this song has blown up on the charts. New band Crimson-“

“Holy shit.” You breathed staring at the radio. Your door opened as you sprinted down to the steps that led to the garage. The footsteps of the boys following.

The garage was open already with your band members lounging around the space filled with instruments and amps. Their heads swivelling as you frantic turned the radio on.

“Come on.” You mumbled, turning the radio station to the right one, “Guys listen!”

“-Crimson Queen is an LA-based band making waves in the LA Nightlife and hit the top ten with their newest song Sorry Now.” The radio host spoke, “If you haven’t heard the song before, this is the band’s new single.”

The song was blasted from the radio leading to the four girls screaming the song out dancing around the room. Euphoria was the only way you could call the feeling rising in the bodies of the girls in the place. The room burst into more screams as your drummer. Faith switched the radio station.

“Today history was made, Crimson Queen is an all-female rock band fronted by Y/N Rhodes. They started as a hobby at fifteen, but a year later at sixteen they’ve made waves.” A hit radio station, the second one so far, was talking about your band. Holy shit.

“Lucy, this band is going places. My daughter is seven years old, and she’s telling me this band is the talk of her school. I can’t tell how much Lucy listens to their demo.”

Your eyes saw Reggie having a meltdown of excitement for older sister and her band, and you were so unbelievably happy you should care the moment. You rushed over to Reggie to pull him into a hug.

“Girls…and boys.” Mrs Taylor spoke furrowing her brows at the young boys in the garage her daughter had begged to use for the band. Shaking her head, the middle-aged woman turned her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, Ma.” Dawn, your bassist, spoke spreading her pink painted lips to her perfectly straight teeth too hyped up on energy, “What’s up?”

“First congratulations on the single. Secondly, we’re gonna need to get a personal line for the band because our phone is blowing up.”

A sharp gasp from Dawn before the three of the four girls rushed to the house of the Taylor’s. You hung back to look at your brother and his band.

“So? What do you think?” You inquired with the group, “This idea of yours has to be one hundred percent what you want. It won’t be easy in LA, it will come with hardships, and Reggie Mom and Dad won’t let you drop out.”

The four boys nodded their heads because the excitement they saw in your big break was something they wanted. To be able to connect with people cemented their decision.

“Feel free to hang around.” You suggested glancing around the garage that started it all, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The Orpheum, Los Angeles, 1995

The crowd screamed as Crimson Queen, the song that started this road played with the girl crouching to grasp the hand of fans. At the beat of the chorus, you stood up eating up the energy of the last show of the tour. You went jumped on the drum riser rocking on the guitar as Faith did her magic.

Dawn on her bass made her way to rock with your rhythm guitarist Sara sharing grins with you still feeling the euphoria of this success. As the song came to an end, your entire band went to the front of the stage.

“We’d like to thank our fans for the last nine months of our world tour. We started this band in LA in 1991, so we thought it fit to end our tour at The Orpheum.” You spoke to the crowd, feeding off the energy as the concert came to an end.

The road crew would load your instruments up in the van to take home after months of travelling. You were so excited to see Reggie, who would be seventeen now, having celebrated his birthday while you had been in Europe. Too excited were shocked as Reggie backstage.

“Reggie!” You exclaimed tugging the teen into your arms, leaning back to take him in, “Damn you grew!”

Reggie grinned not giving a shit you were coated in sweat from performing your setlist, but your eyes went over his shoulder. Standing close and just as excited was Reggie’s friends. Alex was taller, Bobby looked more confident, and Luke could meet your eyes. Luke also had changed, no longer baby faced.

“Sunset Curve.” You spoke, stepping back to look them over, “I haven’t seen you guys in months, how did you change so much!”

“That’s what happens when you go on tour for almost a year.” Luke teased tugging you into his arms for a tight hug.

It was odd seeing Luke taller and more muscled than when you left for tour, and the confidence was honestly hot. You had seen Luke as anything other than your brother’s friend, who tended to stare a little too long.

“You played the fucking Orpheum!” Alex screamed, holding your shoulders with a wrinkled nose at the damp red thin flannel shirt. The girls wandered up behind you each with a grin at the guys.

“Well if it isn’t Sunset Swerve,” Sara spoke swinging her arm over your shoulder with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Her blonde hair swept up in a bun high on her head from a recent shower.

“Sunset Curve!” The male quartet snapped at the name before they fell back into a happy demeanour. Luke and you both staring at each other with a pink-hued face.

Faith was quieter in the group leaning closer to your band to whisper in your ear, “Jay scored us some drinks. But MJ got us into a party.” Faith’s textured hair tickling your neck.

Grins split the three girls at the suggestion each excited for the party with fellow musicians and plus ones. Sure, the parties had drugs and alcohol, but they were fun and part of the scene. Half of you wanted to go, but the other wanted to spend time with your brother.

“I’ll think I’ll pass.” You spoke up to the girls motioning to the guys, “I’ll head back with them. Meet you at the house later?”

Your black vans moving backwards as you moved to be closer to be flush against Reggie’s side grinning as he bumped his hip against you. Sara, Faith and Dawn each raising an eyebrow at your response since you often dragged them to parties.

“Orrr…we could each take one of them.” Faith cajoled mocha skin gleaming in the light with her hands, tugging her hair into a thick braid.

“You want me to take my seventeen-year-old brother and his friends-“

“-I’m like two weeks from being eighteen-” Luke cut into the conversation buzzing at the possible date, but not date, with the girl he had been crushing on for years. He was pretty sure he was in love with you at this point; he did date a little, but nothing stuck.

“-To a party in Hollywood.” You finished pinning your gaze on the three girls ahead each with mischievous grins. Your cheeks puffed as you breathed out, thinking of the positives and negatives.

Bobby was bouncing on his heels with Reggie leaving Alex shifting uncomfortably in his place. His partially relaxed when Luke squeezed his forearm through the distressed black jean jacket that bought his outfit together. Luke himself was apprehensive on your decision because either way, he got to spend time with you.

“Come on.” Dawn implored, pulling out the big guns with her ocean blue eyes widening into the puppy gaze that did you in each time. Her curtain of short dyed pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

“I’m going to pass this time. Do some shots for me! Not tequila though, that was a huge mistake.” Faith’s grin widened at having you carry you out of the house in the early morning after a wicked party.

“Did you ever find your tho-“

“Faith!” You hissed turning a bright red at her revelation that you definitely didn’t want Reggie to know. The atmosphere turned awkward as everyone realized what the sentence would end with.

Okay so maybe you had hooked up with a few people over the last three years but nothing permanent. It was fun, drunk fun, but still fun and nothing had gone wrong. Your eyes avoided looking at Luke for a reason you couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke motioning for the guys to follow you to the dressing room you had settled in early in the day. The corner of your lips quirked at the awe on each of the boys’ faces.

“I’m in the dressing where bands become legends.” Reggie gasped circling the room with wide-eyed interest. Alex was interested in the band posters on the walls from previous performers.

Luke, however, was more interested in your curves covered by your sweaty stage clothing that stuck to your form. His Adam’s apple gulped as you grabbed your shower bag moving towards the connected bathroom.

“I’ll grab a shower, and we can head out.” You supplied, “I’ll just need to stop at Rudy’s office for our portion of the concert.”

The guys mumbled a response finding a place to wait without hushed conversations of when they would get to play. Luke’s eyes found yours at the low call of his name from the bathroom; a crack opened he walked over.

“Do you have a sweater?” You mumbled at the taller teen with widening eyes as he realized that you were naked behind the door.

Luke stumbled over his feet, retrieving the black pullover Crimson Queen merch he had had for months now. He had saved up money to buy the merch to support the band. The door closed as you tugged the sweater in the bathroom momentarily before walking out.

“Thanks Lu. I forget to pack a shirt.” Luke awed as your nose scrunched up adorably to the amusement of his friends, “So, do you wanna hit the beach? Or maybe give me a concert in the garage?”

Luke intertwined his fingers in yours as he tugged you out of the room with your bag in hand. His heart fluttered as you held on to his hand even in the little office of the Orpheum’s management for the thick envelope of money.

“Thanks, Rudy!” You called over your shoulder at the short, stout man going over the financials and upcoming performances.

The smell of Sunset Boulevard brought a smile remembering the first time you performed and the small group that had waited outside. The first night of autographs and recognition.

“So, Reg how’s my car?” You questioned the teen who impishly grinned tugging the key chain from his black jeans. You had given him the keys when you revealed Crimson Queen had a world tour.

“Right there.” Reggie pointed leading the group of five to the car that would take them to the garage. Reggie drove with Alex in the passenger while you were crammed between Bobby and Luke; Luke was delighted in your warmth against his side.

While your band members partied, you got a first-row seating to Sunset Curve’s talent in the garage where you had started out. It was amazing to see how much they had accomplished in the three years since they started.

The sudden knock on the door had you flailing off the couch onto the floor with a sheet of paper stuck to your cheek. Your spine cracked as you sat up glancing at your watch, finding it was after midnight, only an hour of sleep after inspiration for a new song.

The door was knocked on once more and coming close the sound of crying could be heard, and you wondered if it was Luke. He had been over a few days in the night following a fight with his parents and needed to crash; helped you were giving dating a chance after his well-rehearsed speech.

Imagine your shock when it was Reggie sobbing, “Reggie.”

“C-can I stay here?” Reggie whimpered cuddling himself into the leather jacket he received at Christmas from you. You had inside in your arms in moments, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Are they fighting again?” You murmured to your younger brother content to hold him as he cried. Bringing him to the living room, you held him as he cried humming under your breath the first song you ever let him see.

“Yeah. The music doesn’t work anymore.” Reggie murmured leaning back to wipe his tears off, “Sorry for crashing. I can go stay with-“

“Here. Reginald, you can always stay here.” You soothed the seventeen-year-old boy with sad eyes and a sombre look. His sad eyes shattered your heart, knowing he had suffered the fighting for months alone, “This house is empty Reg. You can move in here.”

His lip quirked up, “Can we play country music?”

“And eat breakfast at night.” You teased him grinning as his lips pulled up into his trademark grin, “The guys can come over whenever they want. I’d actually prefer they know they can stay here, they deserve a safe place to stay.”

You knew that Alex endured living with his parents, who had gone out of their way to avoid him after he came out. Luke couch surfed at your old house, never at Alex’s home; after coming out, Alex didn’t feel comfortable bringing anyone over.

“Good, because they’re outside.” Reggie sheepishly admitted raising his thumbs-up, “Go thinking ahead!”

Snorting the human version of a golden retriever you opened the front door to the house finding two guys in strange positions. Alex was inspecting the light fixture, and Luke was leaning against the wall with his elbow, foot across the other.

“You guys need lessons in the art of pretending you weren’t eavesdropping.” The sigh fell stepping aside for the two to enter the home—each carrying a backpack and small duffle bag for wherever they would have crashed.

The male trio got comfortable in the living room curiously glancing at the mess of papers, sticky notes and pencils. While with good intentions, they didn’t follow boundaries well, even for Alex.

“Whatcha working on?” Luke inquired, leaning closer to a sheet of paper. His pout coming over his face when you quickly tidied up the papers.

“Nothing. I fell asleep on the couch. The label wants new songs.” You groaned rubbing your eyes, “I got inspired last night. Oh! Hey, I took a message for you guys.”

Jogging to your office studio for the band you quickly grabbed the envelope along with the note that you had been given.

“So, Rudy called me, and I had a meeting with him.” You started sitting on the coffee table in front of the trio. The trio leaned forward.

“Rudy?” Luke questioned, pursing his lips together at the male name. While you and Luke were dating it wasn’t official, he was just really nervous with his dream girl liking him back.

“He’s the management for a venue. He asked if our band was available for a concert, but we collectively decided to focus on songs and recording, which you can’t tell anyone about, but he’s in dire need. So, I might have given him something. Specifically a demo of yours and knowing your home situations I gave my information.”

“Okay…so?” Alex questioned, leaning forward. His eyes growing wide as you pushed the envelope in his hand.

Alex quickly opened the cream envelope finding inside a paper along with a mock-up promo poster with Sunset Curve. The squeal was shocking from the teenager as he read the letter and note out loud.

Y/N,

I gave the demo a listen, and we usually wouldn’t do this, but Crimson Queen has been gracious with us. Always mentioning where the band got its start and closing the tour here. To repay the favour, we would formally like to invite Sunset Curve to perform. In the envelope is a mock-up poster as an option for the promo. Get the Sunset Curve’s people to get in touch. I can get the word out to some friends from some labels to come for a listen. Get in touch as soon as possible.

Manager of The Orpheum in Los Angeles,

Rudy West.

 “The Orpheum?” Luke screamed, yanking the paper from Alex to re-read it in complete shock, “We don’t have people!”

“But Crimson does.” You smirked, “On a temporary basis Crimson Queen formally offer our manager’s help.”

In his excitement, Luke lunged to pull you into a kiss freezing the room in shock.

“He got the girl.” Alex breathed elbowing Reggie in the side who’s mouth was open at his best friend kissing Reggie’s older sister. The older sister who was the driving force behind Luke wanting to form a band to impress her, “We need to tell Bobby!”

1995 was the best year for Luke Patterson. He got the girl, his band made it, his parents finally saw his dream was worth it.

The sound of music hypnotized the woman as she wandered down the hall to the open door of the large home. Nothing too over the top like Bobby’s mansion, but it was a nice size in a gated area. Your neighbours being Reggie on one side and Alex on the other side with his partner Willie; Willie had skated into Alex and into a love story pretty much.

Resting against the door edge of the designated home studio you saw Luke had moved a rocking recliner in. Softly playing in the room was a soft acoustic song recorded months previous as a surprise for you.

“When are the lessons starting?” You questioned bringing Luke’s attention to your soft smile and the love in your eyes. Luke’s grin widened glancing down at the miniature version of his love-filled eyes.

“Given her legendary parents, I think at two.” Luke chuckled shuffling the baby to the crook of his arm shifting, so you could curl into his side as well. Both eyes gazing at the little baby you had welcomed what felt like yesterday.

Stevie could fall asleep only to the lullaby her father had created during the pregnancy, and he had written. Stevie had Luke’s eyes, and so far her blonde hair had yet to darken so the question of if she’d take after your hair or his hair was unanswered.

“Hey sweetheart.” You whispered to your daughter falling asleep to the sound of her father’s voice in the room. An adorable yawn pulled from her little body as she nestled into Luke’s arms.

“She’s so gorgeous.” Luke breathed tears welling up as he could understand the reasoning behind his parents’ opinions in his teens. He truly felt terrible at hurting his mom now that he felt the love for his child.

“We did good Patterson.” You murmured back to the man who had held your heart since you were nineteen and back from tour. Your finger tracing Steve’s soft cheek, “I think she has your mom’s mouth.”

Luke’s lips lingered on your cheek heart full of love for his family with you and his little girl. He had known since his eleventh birthday he would marry you even if you were a year older. A year that made the difference when he was months older than his friends, so the year felt like two for you. At eighteen when was tentatively dating you, he knew he would marry you. He never anticipated the sheer amount of adoration for the little girl he would have at twenty-one.

God, he loved his life. He made up with his parents, his best friends, had the girl of his dreams, the most beautiful daughter and it all thanks to music. Can you see why he lives and breathes music?

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[ejzah]

A/N: After quite a long time, here’s the third part of this little story. I’m enjoying writing another version of Deeks.

***

Ain’t It A Kick In The Head, Part 3

“Well obviously NCIS should be lead,” Kensi said immediately and Deeks chuckled, wiping a finger under his nose. When Kensi remained stone faced, he stopped abruptly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you were being serious. Yeah, that’s not happening,” he told her firmly, with that same confidence in himself. “LAPD has been on this for months, building connection, gathering evidence and hell if we’re going to let someone else come in and try to take over.”

“We’re a federal agency,” Kensi repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. It didn’t seem to hold any weight for Deeks.

“Yeah, and so far I’m not extremely impressed.” Seeing her offended look, he brushed her shoulder, apparently hoping to lessen some of the sting. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been in this division, working mostly alone, for years. I know how to work with these people. I know how they think.”

“So basically you think like a criminal.” It wasn’t the best rebuttal ever, but she was still insulted and slightly inferior. Even if though she was fairly young, a federal badge usually held a certain amount of significance for the average cop.

“Agent Blye, have you ever had an arms dealer stick a gun under your chin because he thinks your dirty? Or a drug dealer tell you to kill someone to prove your loyalty?” Deeks asked, the sudden intensity and gravity surprising her.

She shook her slightly, feeling wary, even a little horrified now.

“Well, I have. In those moments, you have to make snap decisions. You have to make them believe that they can trust you. And sometimes you end up doing some not-so-honorable things. I happen to be pretty good at that when I need to be.”

Swallowing, Kensi nodded, and squared her jaw. Honestly, he’d unnerved her, but she didn’t want him to know that.

“Fine, Detective. We’ll do it your way,” she relented. “But my team will want to meet with you before we make any decisions.”

“Sure. Just make the location covert,” Deeks told her, once again easygoing. The change was remarkably and kind of unsettling. “I might hold a lot of power, but it doesn’t mean people don’t want me or ask questions.”

***

“Wow, yeah, this is exactly what I call subtle,” Deeks drawled as Agent Blye led him up a pier towards a worn boathouse.

“It is discreet,” Kensi insisted, her voice tinged with annoyance. She was beginning to lose her tightly controlled persona. Which was intriguing, and important if she intended to continue filling in as Bella Mendez.

“Yeah, if you’re a fisherman.” He could practically feel her eye roll.

“Deeks, this isn’t going to be anyone’s first choice for a secret meeting place.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that.” Deeks acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “I suppose if anyone asks, I can just say I was scoping out a new surfing spot. I can be erratic at times.”

She just shook her head and muttered something under her breath. He caught the words “Sam” and “love”.

When they walked through the door, they were met by two men who had obviously been waiting for them. The smaller of the two men stepped forward and held out his hand.

“Agent Callen,” he introduced himself. “And this is Agent Hanna.” The other man gave a perfunctory nod, looking unimpressed with what he saw. Deeks wondered how he would react if he caught Deeks in one of his less glamorous covers.

“Good to meet you. I’m Detective Marty Deeks, but you should probably get used to calling my Max or Gentry,” Deeks said.

“It sounds like you’re planning on this being a long term acquaintance,” Callen said.

“Well, Agent Blye indicated that you’d want to stay on the case.” Deeks shrugged. “Right it’s looking to be at least a couple more weeks, if not months, before we get this settled.”

“That’s a long time for a couple of drug dealers,” Hanna pointed out, folding his arms over his massive chest. “Why delay it.”

“I know this gang,” Deeks explained patiently, but firmly. He had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of explaining and justifying his actions with this agency. “It takes time to gain their trust. I only got as far as I have by being patient and playing by their rules. If we move too fast, we might grab a few of the lower end people, but we won’t get the leaders and they’ll just find a different avenue to sell drugs.”

“For what’s it worth,” Kensi spoke up unexpectedly. “He seems to know what he’s talking about and his men definitely listen to him.” Deeks saw her eyes flick in his direction once, but otherwise she kept her attention focused directly in front of her. “As much as I hate to say it, he’s probably our best shot.”

“Not the best recommendation I’ve ever had, but definitely not the worst, so I’ll take,” Deeks said flippantly. He gave Kensi a more genuine smile and she glanced away quickly, folding her hands behind her back.

“Alright, I trust your judgment, Kensi.” Callen turned to Sam. “You feeling digging out your suit?”

“Actually, I think Kensi should stay under as Bella Mendez.” Deeks got three looks of surprise for his suggestion.

“We already know that cover’s blown,” Sam pointed out. “You recognized Kensi as a fake as soon as she walked in.”

“That’s because I have LAPD check everyone I meet with,” Deeks said. “The higher-ups count on me to let them know if anything shady is going on. And if I’m being honest, neither of you is a good fit for this role.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sam said, sounding deeply offended.

“No offense, but they’ll immediately be suspicious of you on your size alone. These guys don’t like competition and your honestly extremely intimidating,” Deeks continued. “It will be very distracting.”

“And Agent Callen, you won’t have the right vibe for me to play off of. Agent Blye will throw them off enough without being an obvious risk. Though I’m sure you could easily decapitate with a penknife or something if you wanted to.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kensi muttered, cracking a smile.

“The point is, it works much better if we stick with the original plan and don’t bring in surprise players.”

“I hate to say this,” Callen sighed, “But I agreed with him.”

“Lord help us,” Sam said under his breath.

Deeks just turned to Kensi and grinned again.

“This is going to be fun.”

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 2

••••

18 years later...

She steps into the gym, immediately sensing something in the air shift. It’s not a bad shift more like a welcomed shift, almost the same feeling whenever she enters a room that he’s in. Taking a quick scan across the room, her eyes land on a familiar mop of golden blonde hair attached to a man who’s pounding away at a punching bag. 

Schooling her features, Kensi or “Tracy” strides over to a man that introduces himself as Janklow and begins talking about Danny, how she wanted to come to the place that her boyfriend talked so much about. 

Janklow drops his guard just enough, calling the rest of their teammates over to introduce her, including one Marty Deeks, only today his name isn’t Marty and he’s not her best friend. Today he’s Jason Wyler fighting for a spot on an MMA team full of Marines. 

••••

The three agents along with the tech operator and psychologist continue to stare at the monitor displayed with men from the gym, trying to figure out each ones possible motive to kill Zuna. 

Callen’s brow furrows, his focus solely on the shaggy blonde. “What about Wyler?”

“He’s a bit sketchy.” She sends herself a mental high-five as she pictures her best friend’s reaction at her quip. “But he’s definitely not our guy.”

“He’ doesn’t fit in with the others. What makes you so sure its not him?” Sam questions, turning his attention to the brunette agent. 

She shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a feeling.”

The team leader share a look with his partner. “Or maybe its his baby blues.”

“Or his fluffy hair.” The ex-Navy SEAL finishes. 

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Listen, guys, I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

“Tell us, what makes you so sure.” Nate finally interjects, wondering what she saw in the blonde. 

She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to out her friend but now she knows she does, there’s no way around it because if she doesn’t her best friend could end up hurt so she takes a deep breath. “Because his name isn’t Jason Wyler, it’s Marty Deeks and he’s an LAPD Detective.”

Callen’s eyes widen in shock. “And you know this because...”

“I was with him when he got his promotion.”

All four men’s brows simultaneously furrow in confusion.

Knowing they’re not going to give up until she gives them a little more, she relents. “He’s my best friend, the person I trust most in the world. He’s not our guy.”

The confidence in which she says it must be enough for the leader because he just shares aa look with his partner before turning back to her, trust written in both their eyes. “Okay.”

••••

Kensi’s just about to open Zuna’s laptop, when the doorknob starts to jiggle. Slowly reaching for the small of her back, where her weapon is secured, she watches as the door slowly opens and is caught off guard for the second time that day.

His cerulean blues widen in surprise when he meets her mismatched chocolate orbs for the second time that day. He really missed her, but that’s besides the point right now. “What the hell are you doing around here?”

“We’re investigating Zuna’s death. What are you doing here?”

“I’m undercover.”

“No shit.”

Before anything else can be said, Callen steps in from the kitchen, joining the two childhood friends. 

“Marty this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen this is Detective Marty Deeks.”

The team leader takes the detective’s offered hand in greeting. “So I hear you know Kensi.”

“Yeah, know might be a bit of an understatement.”

Callen watches in awe of his coworker exchanging a smile with the detective. He’s not certain, but something tells him that the two are fighting something that’s inevitable. “Well we don’t want to step in on your investigation but we do need to find out what happened to Zuna.”

“Understandable.”

“Can you tell us what you’re under for?”

Deeks shakes his head, knowing that someone from the gym could and most likely is watching them. “Not here. There’s been a couple guys coming in and out from the gym since I’ve been here. I can probably slip away in a few hours.”

“You got your cell on you?” Kensi questions her friend, already knowing the answer. 

“Just a burner.”

Callen nods in understanding. “Okay, give Kens your number and we’ll send you an address.” 

“Sure thing.” 

••••

She nearly jumps out of her skin when there’s a knock at the window. He’s definitely gonna pay for that later. Rolling down the window, Kensi see’s the confusion on his face.

“A Wendy’s, really?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well send you the address to the boat shed on a burner.”

When the words hit his ears, realization spreads across his face like an excited puppy that just got a new toy. “No!”

“Get in before I leave you here.”

Not having to be told twice, Marty hightails it around the SUV and quickly jumps in the passenger seat, shaking with excitement. “Kens, are you serious?”

Shaking her head, she checks her rear view as she slowly backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what your fascination with the boat shed is.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a secret hidey hole on the water, what’s not exciting about it?”

“Oh right, the Aquaman fantasy.”

“Okay, Miss I wanna fall in love on a ship and have sex in an old jalopy.”

She feigns shock and a little bit of outrage. “Hey, I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, but it’s slowly becoming my fantasy too so technically it’s okay.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her playfully. “Besides its just us here.”

Something in his demeanor feels a little flirty to her. Is she going crazy? When he flashes her a smile, she feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement run through her body. What the hell is going on?

He notices a look cross her features that he’s never seen before. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kens.” Marty feels a sudden sense of contentment as he watches her look back to the road and sees the blush rise to her cheeks. There’s a fluttering in his chest that’s unfamiliar to him.  What the hell is happening?

••••

Deeks caught the team up on his op and all that was involved. He explained how Danny hadn’t come home the previous night, something about meeting up with this new girl Tracy. That earned him a famous Kensi trying not to smile, smile, which to be honest is one of his favorite things.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other two agents in the room at the change in their coworker when she was around the detective. She seemed happier, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

The rest of the case goes off without a hitch, NCIS gets their killer and LAPD gets their drug ring bust, but most importantly Marty gets to go home...to his own bed.

••••

There’s a knock at his door, a smile spreading to his lips knowing exactly who it is. He unlocks the deadbolt, twisting the knob and pulls it open. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Blye.”

Kensi steps around him and into his apartment, case of their favorite beer in her hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shaggy Rogers.”

“Oh, touché.”

She sends him a smile over her shoulder and something washes over him. The spark in her mismatched orbs, is something he can’t quite describe. He shakes his head, trying to rid this unfamiliar feeling as she goes to the fridge, depositing the rest of the beer after taking two out. 

“Pizza should be here in 30 minutes.”

“You got-“

“Hawaiian, yeah, yeah, but only half.” She shivers with disgust at his preference for toppings as she hands him the bottle. 

“I would expect noting less.”

She squints her eyes, stepping up to him almost in a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kensi Blye doesn’t eat any fruit unless its covered in chocolate.”

“I-I ate that apple that one time.”

“Only because your mom hadn’t gone to the store for groceries yet.”

She wants to retort but knows he’s right. So she steps around him, walking over to the couch, landing a soft punch to his shoulder on her way. “Just play the damn movie.”

“You’re the boss...KayKay.”

“I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Snapped.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to stop the grin from appearing on his face. He missed this. He missed her and their banter. 

A sudden knock on the door draws him out of his trance. “I think maybe you should get it. I don’t really want to have my back turned to you right now.”

“Haha.” She steps over his legs, whacking him with his cat pillow as she heads for the door. When she pulls it open, the last person she’d ever think it would be is standing there, all four foot and nine inches of her. “Hetty?”

“Miss. Blye.”

“Come in.”

Kensi ushers her boss into the apartment, eyes wide as saucers as she locks on with his. 

Sending him a hint of a smile, Hetty takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. “Hello, Mr. Deeks.”

“Hello, Ms. Lange.”

“Please, call me Hetty.”

“What can I do for you, Hetty?”

“Actually its more what I can do for you.”

Kensi’s brow furrows along with Marty’s as the OSP manager hands the detective a manila folder.  

Opening it he’s a little caught off guard when he sees all his information spread out before him. Everything from his statement from when Donald Blye saved him and his mother all the way to his most recent case. “Wow, Kensi was right. You are a secret ninja lady.”

The brunette feels the heat rise to her cheeks, feeling the scrutiny of her boss’s gaze fall on her. 

Shaking her head, a tiny smile curls at the old woman’s lips. “It’s clear to me that you two work quite well together...even better than Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna.”

“Tell us something we don’t already know.” Marty playfully nudges his best friend, trying to get a smile out of her but is unsuccessful. Instead her features are unreadable. What Hetty’s asking would be a huge deal...monumental. I mean working with his best friend, not going under by himself anymore, working with a team...with her. “Can I think about it?”

Kensi’s eyes find his, trying to figure out which way he’s leaning. She can tell he’s holding back because of her, he doesn’t want to over step. He deserves this, a team and people that will truly watch his back and selfishly she wants to be the one to do it and he do the same for her. 

He sees the hopefulness in her eyes and knows the same is mirrored in his own. Getting a nod of approval from his best friend, he turns to his new boss with a smile. “I’m in.”

After he signs the form, Hetty gladly takes the folder back from their new liaison before taking her leave. “Well then as I understand it, you have a major undercover you’re working on and when the time comes you’ll get pulled back in but in the mean time, you’ll be reporting to OSP.”

“Thanks, Hetty.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She sends them each a smile, showing herself to the door. 

Once the door click shut, Kensi turns to her best friend and now partner...he’s her partner. She can’t help the Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. “We’re gonna be partners.”

Unable to stop himself, Marty closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in hug that’s so familiar to them its like second nature. “We’re gonna be partners.”

••••

The following Monday had Kensi leading her best friend, now partner into the OSP Headquarters. She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips as she watched the shaggy blonde in his awestruck wonder as she showed him around the building. 

Their first case together is a high profile missing persons case which results in Kensi being held captive but like always, her partner along with Sam and Callen has her back and they live to see another day. 

••••

He’s waiting at the car for his partner when the buzzing from his phone draws his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the offending object and immediately rolls his eyes as he reads the caller ID. “Bates, what do ya got?”

As his Lieutenant fills him in on what’s going on, Marty’s brow furrows and his body deflates, his eyes catching those of his best friend as she walks towards him with a bright smile on her face. One thing he hates most is having to cancel plans with her.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

She waits until he hangs up the phone, her eyes meeting his, already knowing that their plans to go to the music festival this weekend are trashed. 

“I’m not gonna make it in tomorrow. Bates just called me, undercover op we’ve been working on and I finally got my in.”

A sad smile crosses her face, she knows its not his fault. This is what they signed up for. “The sex-trafficking case?”

“Yeah.” 

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her reaction is something he can’t quite describe. He knows what he wants it to be, but he’s just not sure. One thing he knows for sure is that now is not the time to lay it all out on the table. “Kens-“

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She scolds herself for letting her emotions slip, he doesn’t need this right now. He needs to be focused on his mission, but if she can get a little more time with him, she’ll gladly take it. “Do you have time to grab something to eat before you leave?”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they turn to walk towards the pier. “Always have time for you.”

There’s something about this goodbye that shifts their entire relationship, what it may be, they’re not sure. One thing is certain though, their lives are even more intertwined than they thought.

[aussiearrow]

New Beginnings - T.Ishimori / T.Taylor

A/N: So when @bitterendbrutalizer , started to write TMHWMP. I started to think about how I wanted to know more about Torrance and Taiji so here we are. This was in no way meant to be a fic in it's own, or this long. But it's something that's for sure. Enjoy?

Just a little long background on how Torrance met Taiji. Other characters from TNA/Impact, NJPW, etc. And of course Nellie and Torrance from Take My Hands, Wreck My Plans.

When Torrance walked through the door of TNA early 2015, her blonde hair in loose curls, she spent most of her career on the indie scene but never truly branched out until she crossed paths with Shaun better known to the wrestling fans as none other than Eli Drake, the you'll hear him long before you see him obnoxious jerk from Maryland. And his character wasn't much different either.

The moment she stepped into managements office they told her she was the perfect fit for either joining The Beautiful People or be apart of the Dollhouse either way it excited Torrance. Those were two of the top groups in women's wrestling to date and to even be considered was a major thing for her.

But it was all quickly folded when Shaun said that he wanted a change soon, and that change was to turn himself into one of TNA's top heels, but in order for his gimmick to work he felt like he needed to make a lot of changes. Most of which he said would make him out to be someone all of the ladies wanted, and all the guys were jealous of but that was still months away. But with him bringing that up and saying he knows the perfect person, one the fans didn't see yet before scratched all plans that she was originally brought in for.

"Soon." Tanga would tell her, but soon wasn't quick enough. It wasn't right now out there with Angelina, Velvet, And Madison. Or Marti, Jade, Taryn, and newly introduced Rebel. Torrance knew she was basically watching her part but through someone else. It was almost like being in Hollywood where you're watching someone else shine in the part you auditioned for.

"At least you get out when soon is up." Torrance would often tell Tanga than Drew or Shaun would walk around the corner.

It was no secret that Tanga was unhappy and had only signed on for a short time and had no plans on continuing instead he would often tell Torrance about joining his brother in Japan which seemed to put a huge smile on her face. Torrance often dreamed about what wrestling in Japan would feel like so when she met Tama at one point when he came to visit, she bombarded him with a list of questions and learned some of the slang.

"What do you do here?" Tama would ask her.

"Sit around and wait for my storyline to start." Torrance would say but when Tama was about to say more in his way things would quickly stop once Tanga shot him a ' we talked about this' kind of look.

On July 25th, 2015 Shaun had finally pulled the trigger and cost his former partner Drew Galloway a match against Ethan Carter III. It w as finally time to insert Torrance into the story as she helped Eli get a victory against Drew on August 5th.

Torrance embraced her role as a heel and Shaun's manager of some sort. Only wrestling on occasion but she tried to tell herself she was happy because not only was she employed in her dream job but she was doing it with the love of her life.

Or who she thought was the love of her life. Torrance got caught in one too many times of people coming up to her in the locker room and telling her how single Shaun acts when she isn't around, jokes on them when she saw it happen in front of her quite a few times too. This went on until she stopped going into the dressing room and instead stayed in Shaun's. Because you couldn’t get told bad things if you weren’t around to hear it, right?

Moments like these lead to pretty heavy arguments in the morning but Shaun had a way of saying that they were filming stuff for his gimmick or that a fan had gotten to close at a club and he couldn’t be rude. Which often caused Torrance to laugh. But it somehow always worked that andTorrance like the way she felt when they made up. Shaun Just had a certain way that she never once complained about.

When impact started to work with GWF there was a lot of new people from their roster coming into Impact. Shaun decided that tag team wrestling is where him and Chris needed to be.

But first I had to sit and watch as L.A.X won the titles, Santana and Ortiz becoming fast friends of Torrance’s much to the dislike of Shaun. It started to turn it into something that she didn’t have an idea. Yeah, when Chris joined she knew Shaun was looking to have him be his back up and boy did they ever get along. Torrance seemingly avoided it at all cost. Not knowing just exactly what was brewing.

It wasn’t until Slammiversary XV on July 2, 2017 when Torrance watched in rooted for Santana and Ortiz to keep their titles she was nervous and was waiting by the TV closest to the ranch so she can see her boys either way the match went for what felt like forever as L.A.X. emerged victorious. They all hooted and hollered when they made their way back as twins ran to give them both a hug.

“I’m so proud of you guys. “ Torrance said as they returned her hug.” Are you guys okay?” She said when she pulled away double checking that they were indeed okay.

" We're fine. We're not the ones you should be checking on." Santana said with a laugh.

Torrance playfully rolled her eyes as the 3 other teams finally came into view, Torrance's eyes wandered a little and they all indeed seem like they went through something. But a certain pair of eyes caught hers a smile making her way onto his lips which she returned.

"Let's go, our turn to finally show what a real tag team can do." Shaun said as he and Chris came into view.

"Dude, we've been doing this together for years, you guys became a team weeks ago. Get some credibility and maybe we'll let you have a shot." Ortiz said.

Torrance saw the smile disappear quickly from the guys face instead it was replaced by an unreadable expression as her gaze turned to Ortiz and Shaun as she placed a hand on Shaun's chest and led him to the ramp.

That night as Torrance listened to Shaun and Chris go on and on about how if it wasn't for Santana and Ortiz getting in their head before the match things would have went completely different. All Torrance could think of was the guy that she saw before it all happened. The way his smile seemingly reached his eyes, with such kindness that she wasn't used to seeing in this business especially not with Shaun around.

From that day she talked to both Santana and Ortiz, " So who was that one guy you guys had that match against? The one from Noah?"

"Torrance got a thing for Marufugi?" Ortiz said as Torrance made a face.

"No, I don't." Torrance said as they laughed.

"What he meant to say is Torr got a thing for Ishimori."

"Torr doesn't have a thing for anyone but her boyfriend. Who she's been with for a few years." Torrance said as she quickly came to Eli's defense.

"Chill Torr, we know were just joking. His name is Taiji Ishimori we only know a little about him. Damn good wrestler seems to be a pretty nice guy outside of the ring. Friendly, Priscilla said he wanted to go over the spot they had in the match at least 100 times so he felt confident enough the wouldn't hurt her."

"Oh." Torrance said.

"Oh? I mean we can introduce you two if you want. Just don't pull a Eli on yourself." Santana said.

Torrance knew he meant it as a joke but she also knew how much truth was hidden in that.

It was months later when Torrance finally saw Taiji again at Bound For Glory on November 5, 2017. She considered them to be rather friendly as when he was there before Santana and Ortiz introduced the two. Hitting it off the best they could with Shaun being around. But she didn't know where Taiji stood when he found out that Shaun and Torrance were a thing. She didn't mean for things to get flirty between the two but stolen glances became much more when he would ask her to dance that one time he actually got Torrance to go out with the roster.

Shaun on the other hand was happy Torrance was dragged away by her friends as a certain Brunette had found her way onto his lap. Just as Taiji pulled Torrance in she laughed.

Taiji smiled," You know I don't know much about the way girls are in the states but I'm pretty sure you've been flirting with me since we met."

Torrance's eyes went wide," Flirting? No,no. I just wanted to make sure you were having fun."

"I am, only when you're around. And that's a shame cause I was definitely flirting with you."

Now Torrance knew that she was definitely flirting back with him, in fact she knew on occasion that she had even started it. Taiji had a way of making her feel things she never felt especially in her relationship with Shaun. Which is why she never really mentioned him in that way, and Torrance knew that lately it hadn't been that well known to anyone except Chris and her friends of L.A.X. Tanga kept in touch too but he never asked how Shaun was doing. He like Santana and Ortiz were waiting for the day when Torrance would say she dumped Shaun.

"Hey Torr, I know this isn't the time or the place but you got to come here. Your boyfriend seems to have forgotten an important part. And I don't trust Santana walking over there." Priscilla had said when she placed a hand on Torrance's arm.

"Boyfriend?" Taiji said as she looked at Torrance letting her go.

"Yeah the complete douchebag known as Shaun aka Eli Dra-" Priscilla began to say as Torrance cut her off.

"Can we not? Please." Taiji just stood there with eyebrows raised as Torrance made her way through the crowd and over to where Santana had now become fully aware of some sort of situation and picked Shaun up by his collar from his spot on the chair and was saying something that she couldn't quite make out just yet.

"Woah hey what's going on?" Torrance said as she made her way over to the two.

"This prick apparently can't remember he has a girlfriend who is only a couple feet away from him that he could be trying to mack on, but no instead chooses someone else. Like this is all some sort of game to him."

"You're just mad that it ain't you, kid. It could be but you're still playing at the kids table." Shaun said as he freed himself from Santana's grasp with a dirty look.

"Really? That's what you have to say to all of this?" Torrance said.

"We'll talk at home, in private." Shaun said as he gathered his stuff and muttered something that Torrance couldn't quite catch but it sounded something along the lines of his night being ruined.

But they never did talk about it that night, when Torrance brought it up the second the door closed his lips attached to her neck as she sat at the counter.

"You're really going to listen to Santana over me?" Shaun would say as his arms snaked up her sides," You know how he gets when we're in the same room."

Torrance was still unsure but she convinced herself based on the fact that Santana indeed have all the things in the world to say about Shaun whenever he stepped in the ring especially ever since their feud on Impact when Shaun and Scott took the tag team titles only to drop them to go on his chase for his own singles title.

Torrance sighed," I know I just wish he didn't go and say something like that completely out in the open in front of the whole roster."

"That's how him and Ortiz are, you know that. Now what do you say we find something else to do until morning since our lovely night out became an early night in." Shaun said as he made sure to continue to capitalize on every little weak spot that he knew Torrance had. So by the time he was finished talking Torrance barely remembered why she was even questioning him in the first place.

But that was before and this was now. Bound for Glory. It was all set to be a big night for Shaun but Torrance was finding it rather hard to swallow her pride and act happy for him when things in their personal lives were at their end. Their very end. And when Torrance told Impact about how she didn't want to be near Shaun.

To which they responded with that she could suck it up or leave. She chose to leave after Bound for Glory was done. Torrance watched early on as Taiji defeated Tyson, She hasn't talked to him since everything that happened at the club. She would try to look his way but almost all of them went unnoticed by her at least when she looked that was.

She had only told her close friends that tonight was her last night as tonight was also Gail Kim's last impact wrestling match. Maybe it was for the better, she didn't want the attention on her.

She barely left the locker room as her phone started to ring, as she looked down to see Tanga's name on her screen.

"Hey, how are you?" Torrance said.

"Really? You're asking me that? You're the one who dumped an asshole and is now leaving a company in the same week." Tanga said.

"I'm ready to leave already but I have a few more hours still."

"Where's Santana and Ortiz? Or Taiji?"

"Santana and Ortiz are filming something but Taiji I haven't talked to him for a few weeks."

"And why not? He was becoming a good friend, it wasn't Shaun was it?"

"I mean not exactly. He didn't know me and him were a thing, and things may have went a little to far if you will."

"A little far? Did you and Taiji have a thing?"

"No, no I didn't think so at least. I mean things didn't feel friendly but it never crossed that line."

"Did you want it too?" Tanga said as all Torrance could do was stay quiet, mainly because she couldn't even begin to think about any of that, cause she knew parts of her did want it too. Almost every part.

"Hey I have to go get ready, but I'll see you very soon."

"Ah! So you have thought about it." Tanga said with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get ahead of yourself. It wasn't your words that encouraged me."

"You're right the amount of times you drooled when I told you about Japan definitely didn't do anything to persuade your decision. Maybe it was Taiji telling you about it?"

"Bye Tanga." Torrance said as she hung up as Tanga laughed.

Torrance went about her night, never really running into anyone before she watched Taiji win his match in under 5 minutes. He was truly coming a long way. She'd be lying if she said that being able to see Taiji in the ring would be something she'd seriously miss, but even more so him out of it.

When it was finally time for her to go out, she gave Santana and Ortiz one last look and they gave her encouraging smiles. Just one last thing you have to fake here tonight and than that's it. By tomorrow the news will read that her and Impact have parted ways than she'll be on the closest flight out of here to start her new life in Japan, as a part of the Bullet Club for the time being.

As Shaun's hand was raised in victory as he captured the Impact Global Championship, it took everything in Torrance not to break down cause it was something that she had watched him work hard for but even more so something their little group worked so hard for as well. Shaun respected her space throughout the whole celebration as they headed into the back. Most people congratulated Shaun as Torrance made her way through the crowd and went right over to Santana and Ortiz.

"We're gonna miss you Torr." They said as they wrapped their arms around her tightly.

"I'm going to miss you guys so much too." Torrance said as she pulled away from them," We'll see each other again soon. And I'll call once I figure out the time zone situation."

"Yeah we love you but not enough to answer your call at 3 in the morning just because you wanted to say hi." Ortiz said with a laugh as Torrance gasped in fake offense.

"You wouldn't take my call at 3 in the morning?"

"If you just want to say hi, absolutely not." Santana said.

"But what if I miss you guys too much?"

"Than we'll return the call at a decent hour." Ortiz said as they all laughed.

"So it's true?" Torrance heard from behind them, she knew that voice, she missed it the last couple of days.

As Torrance turned her head to see Taiji standing there as Santana and Ortiz let her go and walked a little bit away.

"Uh yeah, wait depending on what it is you're talking about."

"You're leaving." He said as she nodded," Why?"

"I want to wrestle not be eye candy, and I won't get that here."

"And you picked Japan?"

"How did you?- " Taiji pointed behind Torrance as she turned to see Ortiz looking away and Santana smiling and offering a small wave as Torrance gave him a look before looking at Taiji again.

"Well that explains that." She said as Taiji nodded," I leave in the morning."

"No celebration with everyone?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Not into drinking nor do I have anything to celebrate with him."

"But that's your boyfriend."

"Was, big keyword there he was my boyfriend."

"Oh, not a fan of going to Japan?"

"No just not a fan of being faithful." Torrance said as as unreadable expression came across Taiji's face.

"I'm sorry." He finally said.

"Don't be I'm not. Long overdue. New Beginnings, can't wait."

"Yeah, new beginnings." Taiji said with a smile.

Torrance wanted to bring up what happened but she figured it wouldn't matter too much. She would be off to Japan to start a new life while he was here doing great things in the states.

But what Torrance didn't know was that wouldn't be the last time she saw Taiji like she thought. She would see him again when she was working alongside Bullet Club and making a name for herself.

Tama started relentlessly teasing her, more so than usual she should have said when they started teasing about a certain someone making his return to New Japan very soon.

"You know him extremely well." Tama said.

"Oh now it's extremely well? Before it was just I've seen him before." Torrance said with a roll of her eyes.

Tanga laughed," You seriously haven't seen anything relating to Impact since you left have you?"

"Out of sight, out of mind. You know I stayed off social media especially when Shaun decided to state his opinion on why I left in the first place." Torrance said with a shrug.

"Plus our girl here has been busting her ass off for that championship." Chase said as she smiled.

She was really at the highest point in her career and it was something she could say it was finally all for her. She was happy to just be wrestling bust as she trained with the guys, even she couldn't that her ability was getting better.

So when she was told that she was going into the championship picture and at the end would be facing Toni and Kagetsu at Stardom Shining Stars in a little over a month.

"Just a little over a month to go." Torrance said.

"And as of tonight you'll have a new member to celebrate with." Tama said with that signature smug look on his face.

"Don't say that we all know she'll only celebrate with him at that point."

"You guys are seriously going to make me wait if it's this big of a deal?"

"Well maybe you should pay attention to socials more." Tama said," Owens don't let her get spoilers, I'll be back." Tama said as he left the room.

Torrance was nervous as she watched Tama enter the ring followed by a man in a mask slide in behind Will. Tama told Will to get his ass up before the attack started. Torrance had to admit there was something familiar about the way this person moved.

Once the attack stopped and Tama stood next to the man as he talked about how much luck Will has had lately and how it was going to change as Bullet Club had an idea for bringing someone new in who would turn the gold into a diamond. Tama said," What I present to you, Bone Solider... Taiji Ishimori."

Everything else felt like it was all slow motion to Torrance, like how did this happen? As Tama began to lead him to the back it would be a good half hour or so until they were back here. Torrance thought of leaving but her feet stayed planted where she was.

"Come on, we're going to meet them." Tanga said as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I think I'm good I'll wait right here."

'No, you're going with us. Tama has told Taiji all about what you've been up too. He's excited to see you, said it's been quite the year or so." Tanga said and before she could disagree her body betrayed her as it followed the guys out and over to where Tama and Taiji were talking to the cameras.

"Well, well, well look who it is." Tama said as he looked the group," I believe most of you have met Taiji if not this is Ishimori, our newest member."

He didn't seem to notice that Torrance was also there but she felt eyes on her as Chase pushed her forward a bit," Torrance here has something to say."

"Oh she does now?" Tama grinned at her," Well? Go ahead, floor is yours."

"Welcome home?" Torrance said as she offered him a smile.

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

It didn't take long for Torrance and Taiji to get back to the way things were. The flirting picked up and this time there wasn't anything attached to either of them so it was freely. Torrance had also started to go out with them a lot more when Taiji would invite her.

" You guys seriously need to start inviting new girls. I hate being the only one."

"I'm sure there will be a lot more coming around with Taiji here, and someone else we have joining in the next few months." Chase said as Tama laughed.

"That's funny, new guy maybe but Taiji with Torr around?" Tanga said.

"We're right here guys." Torrance said as they walked in.

"Are they wrong though?" Taiji asked.

"As far as what I heard the question was mainly about you."

"I'm not looking for anyone." Taiji said as Torrance nodded as she turned around to find a table," Else that is." But she acted like she didn't hear it.

It made Torrance nervous, getting close to another wrestler again. Something she swore to herself she'd never do after Shaun. But as they sat together in a booth Torrance felt herself slipping from that thought as Taiji looked at her," Care to dance?"

Torrance nodded," Sure, figured I owed you one so come on." Torrance said as she slipped out of the booth.

Once Taiji grabbed her hand she knew she was gone but that she was going to try her hardest to hold out until she knew it was good for her. As the two made their way to the dance floor.

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

On June 9th, 2018 Torrance seemingly went to hell and back in a losing effort, she was sore pretty much something was broken or badly bruised as she made her way backstage, she made very little comments until she turned the corner to go to the locker room, she almost didn't notice the figure standing outside as a few of the other girls stood talking away.

Torrance made her way through the little crowd, as the figure turned towards her and gently caught her arm," Torr."

The crowd seemingly stood back and stared at the two in confusion, they knew she had been friends with members of the Bullet Club, and worked/trained with them but the fact that one of them were there right now seemingly crossing a line that hasn't even been drawn besides by a few girls in the locker room, "Taiji, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come and see your match live, than I saw everything so I had to come back and see you." He said as he wrapped her up in a hug," You did really good."

Torrance knew of the audience but the hug was a lot of what she needed in that moment and he at least deserved a hug back for showing up here the way that he did," Thank you it means a lot."

"Go get ready, we'll go somewhere to celebrate the fact we're both losers." Taiji said as they laughed.

"Raincheck, I feel like I got hit by a train." Torrance said as she let go of the hug.

"Okay sounds good, I'll still walk you out. Take your time." Taiji said as Torrance nodded and smiled at him as he got called away.

Taiji walked her out that night and even took the cab ride home with her as he gave her another hug and watched as she made her way inside.

"So it's true." Torrance just about jumped when she heard the voice she turned to see Bea standing there.

"What's true?"

"You've been banging Taiji since he came back?" She said with a laugh.

"Far from it, we've been friends since Impact."

"Oh so it's been longer than that, so did he use you to get into Bullet Club? Or was it the other way around?"

"Bea, cut the shit. We both know I haven't even gone on a date since being here."

"That we know of you don't tell us anything really is that why you and Shaun broke up got a little too close to a mid carder when you weren't wanted out at the ring?" Bea said as Torrance sighed.

"Whatever you say Bea, you and I both know what happened. If you still have a problem in the morning than we can talk but for now I'm going to sleep." She said as she went into her room and closed the door.

But it was always an issue with Bea, it went on for months until Torrance finally told Taiji and the rest of the guys.

"Why is it such an issue that they think you're hooking up with Taiji?" Jay asked.

"It's the way she's saying things that are the problem." Torrance said as she sighed," And than she has everyone else starting it now whenever I get anything that's good."

"Welcome to Bullet Club by the way Jay when we aren't kicking ass in the ring and out we're going through a big never ending game of she likes him but won't date him because he's a wrestler due to the last guy she dated who was admittedly an asshole yet she gets offended when people call her out for things when it comes to Taiji." Tama said as he sat back with a laugh.

"Oh fuck off Tama." Torrance said as she headed out the door. Truthfully she was getting overwhelmed by the amount of people coming at her at the house and it starting to just really get on her nerves. So when Tama started saying that when he knew what was going on just rubbed her the wrong way.

"Torrance, wait up." Taiji said.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm going home before everyone else gets there I think I heard enough today."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about actually." Taiji caught up to her.

"Torrance turned to him," What?"

"How about you move in with me? I have a spare room you can have." Taiji said as he looked with hopeful eyes.

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

Her first initial night with Taiji just so happened to be New Year Eve, where they both decided that after a long day they were just going to get some food and head back to the apartment. It was hard not to be in a good mood when you walked the streets of Tokyo. It was also hard not to be coupley when everyone surrounding you was in such a high spirit.

When they made their way into the apartment and sat on the couch, both refusing to get out of their outfits, Torrance had to admit she liked the way this dress made her look. And it was the first time she actually had a reason to wear it out.

Taiji was the first to bring up relationships as he asked why she hadn't had one since being in Japan, " I don't know , most of the time I'm just surrounded by wrestlers and - "

"And you don't want to date or hook up with wrestlers."

"Yeah, for the most part. I know that's kind of impossible not too."

"So what you're saying is someone caught your eye?" Taiji said as he re entered the living room.

"Yes well no, I don't know. I feel like he's been around so he had it for awhile like a long while so it's kind of hard to keep denying it."

"He's a lucky guy."

What about you like Chase said Bullet Club is pulling more girls around now more than ever as there's more than one single guy. While Jay entertained a few you haven't." Torrance said," And don't say no one asked cause they have. I've seen them ask. Especially when you would come to stardom."

"None of them were what I wanted." Taiji said with a shrug.

"So you got a type."

Taiji was going to respond when a countdown started to go into the new year, Torrance watched as everything went from silence to almost a beautiful bliss.

"You ever have a new years kiss Taiji?"

"No, I'm sure you have though."

"Actually no, every new year my ex seemed to never be around."

"Let's change that right now." Taiji said," That's if you don't mind."

"No, I don't but who would we-" Before Torrance could even finish her sentence Taiji planted a kiss that took her a minute to respond too but once she did there was no stopping her or Taiji now.

*********

That night didn't end with just kissing, most like all of the other nights after that too. She never did get to see the spare room as both of them found an excuse to spend just one more night together.

It went on for months like this, none of them saying anything to anyone but most of their friends figuring it out by the way they acted around each other. But when they would ask it would just be a quick " no" or a change of subject.

That was until Taiji started bringing around his new tag team partner, Riley aka El Phantasmo. Things got rather interesting. Torrance didn't think of herself as a jealous person not even in the slightest but sometimes Riley would make comments about how Taiji needs to capitalize on a few girls that threw themselves at him. Those kinds of things made her squirm but she stayed quiet, not wanting to put Taiji in a spot that would make him uncomfortable.

"What's your deal Torr? You've been staring at Taiji like you either want to kill him or jump his bones for the last couple of minutes now." Torrance sighed as she looked at Nellie her newest friend. And finally another to put up with Bullet Club's shit.

"I've just been thinking a lot."

"About Taiji?" Nellie said as she looked at her friend. This wasn't the first time they talked about this. Most of the time they also talked about Nellie and Riley's situation.

Torrance never understood why Riley was hellbent on telling Taiji about hooking up with girls. Meanwhile he swore up and down that he was interested in getting to know the ladies in Japan, but the second Nellie walked through the door he was right there following her around. And from what Nellie told Torrance it wasn't the first time they hooked up either. They said that was over with but Torrance and Taiji both knew better when they would leave together.

After all it was easy to hide your own hookup when you knew your friends were doing the same. Or so Torrance thought.

"Earth to Torrance, are you sure everything is good?" Nellie said.

"Yeah, I just- what if I finally dyed my hair?"

"Seriously? That's what has you all out of whack today?"

"Well, it's been on my mind a lot. I think a pink color would look good."

"It would, you should do it." Torrance heard from beside her as Taiji took a seat next to her with a smile.

Torrance turned and smiled at him," You think so?" As both went in their own conversation as Nellie and Riley looked at each other with a shrug.

"When you two are done ignoring us, how about joining Nellie and I at the bar? The usual spot?" Riley said as Torrance looked at Riley and Nellie who were now standing and ultimately waiting on them.

"Yeah, yeah we know." Taiji said as he stood, followed by Torrance.

It wasn't long before Riley was making the comments, it was almost like he knew how much it bothered Torrance. Who always tried to ignore it but lately it was getting harder and harder. She was trying to distract herself by talking to Nellie about upcoming shows.

"What about that one? She's been eyeing you all night." Riley said.

Torrance tried to turn away a little more as Riley just continued on," I bet if you buy her a drink she'll right into you."

Nellie watched in amusement as Torrance rolled her eyes," Seriously guys? Is that all you ever talk about?"

"Woah, hey. Nellie is right maybe we're trying to help the wrong friend get laid." Riley said with his arms raised.

"I'm more than okay thank you very much." Torrance said.

"Are you sure about that?" Nellie asked trying to hide the smile.

"Really? You two?" Torrance said as she looked at Nellie who shrugged," You know what? Fine. I just can't keep sitting here and listening to Riley go on and on about how Taiji needs to get laid cause I think he has been multiple times this week alone."

" Oh really? And how would you know about that unless?" Riley looked between the two of them as Nellie couldn't get enough of the scene playing out in front of her.

"Oh please don't act so surprised." Torrance said as she stood up," Now if you'll excuse us you wanting to go out the last two nights has really put a damper on things. So if Taiji agrees maybe we can go home early and as Riley likes to say get laid."

" I'm always down for you." Taiji said as he stood up and grabbed her hand.

"Wait home?" Riley said as he looked at Nellie who shrugged and seemed just as surprise as she was.

"I really didn't expect that I just thought we were finally going to learn they've been banging this whole time." Nellie said.

"Bye guys." Torrance said as Taiji began leading her out the door. Little did she know that was the best thing to happen to them of course they'd never let Riley or Nellie know that.

And the rest is a story for another time.

[andimack-crack]

A christ-mack story: Andi Mack

read part one here

Part 2: Memories and Menorahs

[Word count: 1631]

T.J's POV

I was stressing out ripping through my cupboard I had never been to a Hanukkah celebration before I've only ever been to Cyrus's Bar and his Grandmother's Shiva. Those were easy enough go dress for but I wasn't sure what outfit said 'I'm here for Hanukkah but I'm also here to help your gay son come out to you' luckily I called for some back up.

"I'm here the dating expert is here" Jonah said bursting into my room

"Pipe down Jonah we all know how your relationships ended" Marty said trailing behind.

"Well if I have such bad relationships how come I easily get back into them?" He said smirking

"Guys big picture I need help"

"Okay, okay let me dig into your closet  Marty get the make up kit" Jonah said going inside my mess

"Th-the what?" I said nervously

"Hey Jo do we need the razor for his hair?" Marty said from the hallway

"Um yeah" Jonah said his voice suddenly a little high pitch.

"What no not the hair!" I said frantically they both started laughing coming to stand next to me.

"You big idiot we're joking" Marty said patting my back

"Dude you're over thinking this Cyrus likes you because you're you and it seems cliche but if you be yourself in front of his parents you'll do fine" Jonah said smiling encouragingly

"Thank you Jonah"

"Yeah man your a great person we all know that now the Goodmans have met you before anyways you just need to have confidence Cyrus is probably just as nervous" Marty reassured

"But I can still pick a decent outfit because you know don't wanna look you don't care" Jonah said digging into my closest

******

Bex's POV

I had been avoiding talking about Gabriel changing the subject whenever Bowie tried bringing him up I'm thankful he never spoke about it in front of Andi even though she knew more than he did. I just wasn't ready to re-live those memories again. But Bowie wasn't having any of it he kept pressing on and on now I couldn't avoid it since Andi had gone out with Buffy.

"Bex please just tell me who he is" he pressed

"W-who" I pretended play dumb

"Gabriel"

Whenever I was with Gabriel, my self-esteem always took a hit. He would jokingly criticise what I wore or the way I did my hair and makeup, saying things like, ‘Were you still asleep when you got dressed this morning?’ and ‘Your eye shadow and lipstick colours make you look super-old – maybe you need some makeup lessons’. Looking back now, I can say that his comments were hurtful and unnecessary, but at the time I just passed them off as him trying to be funny. Whenever he made such belittling jokes, I would force a smile but on the inside I’d be crying.

"He's nobody don't worry" I said to Bowie smiling but also freaking out on the inside. How did he even find my number? What could he possibly want to tell me?

"You're sure he's nobody? you seem on edge by the mention of his name" he said putting a hand on my arm

"I'm sure h-he supplied me with new chairs for cloud ten last week"

"Oh well alright then I'm gonna make some lunch hungry?"

"Always" I threw a small smile which felt more like a grimace but I saw his phone number still on there I quickly wrote it down and deleted the message.

Occasionally, however, Gabriel would compliment me or say something supportive – in those moments, I would reassure myself that our relationship was okay and that I ought to stay with him. At the time, I couldn’t see that that was just his way of controlling me and to keep me hooked so that I wouldn’t leave him.

I shuddered thinking of all those memories. I had a lot other important things to think about. Something really big in particular I didn't have a lot of time to worry about Gabriel.

But I should at least hear what he has to say.

Cyrus's POV

"I-I'm gay but this doesn't change a thing I'm still me"

I had given the same speech to myself in front of the mirror for the past half hour I still didn't feel as if I could go out there and do it. I hardly believed in the words I was saying. A tear slid down my cheek I wiped it away I had to compose myself. I read somewhere that it's difficult coming out to the ones you love because you've known them forever you don't want things to change. That's probably why it hurt so much. I washed and dried my face straightening the kippah on my head taking a deep breath. I jumped when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Cyrus your friend T.J's here" I heard my mom say from the outside

"Okay" I opened the door and went downstairs T.J was talking to my aunt Ruthie

Oh no.

"So T.J are you Jewish?" She had a scary look in her eye

"No I'm just here for Cyrus" he smiled coolly

"Oh are there any girls in school that are interested in him or do you know of any he could go out with?" T.J looked a little confused so I went in to save him

"Hey aunt Ruthie chag sameach" (happy holiday)

"Oh Hanukkah sameach dear" (happy hanukkah)

She left me and T.J alone and no one could see us from the halls so I went in for a quick hug and he smiled kissing my forehead

"Sorry about her she's very well..." I trailed off looking for the right words

"I get it my relatives are like that too" he took my hand making light circles on the back.

"Are you okay?" He asked concerned

"Y-yeah I'm just really nervous since most of my family is here" he squeezed my hand

"You'll be alright I promise" I smiled at him gratefully. We entered the living room my mom putting up a picture of Bubbe Rose I realised it's my first Hanukkah without her.

We all stood around the Menorah as all eight candles were lit as it was the final day my family's rabbi recited a prayer that everybody followed along with T.J attempted but without much success since it was in hebrew but it was sweet he tried. I subtly wrapped a pinky around his we did the same linking them together without drawing too much attention.

"Cyrus" Rabbi Hurwitz suddenly spoke making my pinky move away from T.J's "I'm going to lead a prayer for your Bubbe Rose would you like to join?"

I wanted to but I wasn't sure I'd be able to get through it I've been missing her so much recently.

"N-no thank you sorry" he nodded understanding I wasn't ready he said the prayer I hung my head low fighting the tears in my eyes. Once it was over I was about to go help my mom in the kitchen but T.J quickly put a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay underdog?" He said softly I just shrugged

"I will be as soon as this is over with" I said reassuring him.

I brought the food to the table and set it down pointing out to T.J what food is good and what isn't good this year I made sure gefilte fish wasn't on the menu nobody likes it any ways.

"Cyrus um... I was just speaking with Rabbi Hurwitz and I just wanted to let you know that it's okay" my dad reassured

"I don't understand" I said confused

"It's just he said he saw you... hold hands with T.J over here" oh shit.

"What" my mom interrupted coming over "Cyrus honey are you gay?"

"Well I-i" I stuttered

"Gay what is that?" My aunt Ruthie  intruded. That's the last thing I needed

"I can shed some light on this" T.J began with my other family members beginning to listen "Yeah um me and Cyrus we... we are dating"

"Yes T.J is my boyfriend" I said smiling proudly taking his hand "we're both gay... I'm gay" I breathed out

"You... You're both boys" my aunt Ruthie objected

"Yeah good catch but gay means you're a boy that's only romantically attracted to boys that's way I haven't had any girlfriends since Iris I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was scared" T.J squeezed my hand tightly.

"Plus after Bubbe...p-passed away I felt so guilty for not telling her when I knew I could of" my breath got caught in my throat.

"Honey don't worry she knew" my eyes went wide at what my mom said

"How?"

"When me and Norman last spoke to her she told us to never disrespect you just because you're different from us she said we should treat you the same as we always have I didn't understand at the time but now I do"

I was in shock I have no idea how she could of known but at least she did know.

"T.J we are glad it's you Cyrus has found" my dad said putting a hand on T.J's shoulder he smiled thankfully.

"Well I guess I'm happy for you Cyrus he seems like a very nice boy and if Rose was okay with it then so am I" Aunt Ruthie squeezed my face

"Well then all that's left to do is... eat I mean now I feel the need to celebrate" I smiled my family sat down at the table me and T.J had been holding hands the whole time.

And I wasn't planning on ever letting go.

[jon-astronaut]

Skam Italia College AU : Chapter 7 - Aftermath

Masterpost

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Silvia’s (shady) Tweet

Sunday 13:45 - Nicco’s POV

“You do realize that Fede sees your Tweets right?” Eva asked to Silvia from her place on the couch.

Nicco looked from Eva to Silvia waiting for the latter’s reply.

“That’s kind of the point Eva.” Silvia said with a smirk.

“And aren’t you two in a fight?” Malik asked walking in with a tray of coffee with Luca following behind.

“We are not not enough in a fight.” Eva said throwing her head back and Silvia groaned.

“That means you are in a fight.” Nicco said deciding this was the time to chime in. “And you have right to be in a fight Eva. He did something bad that you don’t approve of.” he continued trying to be a good friend.

Nicco understood what Eva saw in him really because at first Fede was so interested in her but they didn’t seem to click now. He kinda had been there being with a person you were interested in when the two of you weren’t fitting together.

“I know that.” Eva said reaching for her coffee from the tray Malik left on the table.

“Good, then let Silvia talk badly about him.” Nicco replied pointing to Silvia who thanked him by shaking her head up and down.

“Come on say it!” Silvia said getting up from the couch and looking over everyone.

Nicco laughed and shook his head. It had been two years and he didn’t even know how they all came together. On paper the six of them don’t work but in real life they do and he was so grateful. They never judged him and was there for him in his every feeling.

“Silvia Mirabella knows best!” Nicco said while still laughing.

Now the others were laughing too minus Elia who had just entered their living room trying to understand what they were laughing at.

“Who was the other guy that came to pick up Edoardo?” Elia asked plopping down between Eva and Malik.

Eva opened her mouth to answer but without meaning to Nicco beat her up to it.

“Martino.” Nicco said softly and all five heads turned to him.

“Yes, Martino.” Eva approved suspiciously. “Giovanni’s best friend.” she added.

“Yeah I met him the other week, remember?” Nicco said trying to play it cool and because he was Nicco it worked.

As the others went back to conversation he made a mental note about texting Martino later his excuse being asking about Edoardo.

Silvia’s POV

Marti’s POV

Marti’s POV (continued)

Edoardo’s POV

Eleonora’s Instagram Post

Monday 12:08 - Eleonora

Ele took a sip from her coffee and looked at Edoardo who was watching her with hopeful eyes. She didn’t have the upper hand much with Edoardo. Now that they talked and she saw his point she felt like messing around with him a little. Yet, once again, she gave in too easily.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Eleonora said as she set her cup down. “I already told you I forgive you.”

“I know, I am just making sure.” Edoardo said running a hand through his curls.

They stared at each other with nervous smiles for a while. Eleonora didn’t know if Edoardo was aware of her feelings about him. Certainly everyone else was. It took her a while to accept them too because when she first met Edoardo he looked like everything she hated. Getting to know someone can change a lot though.

“You see what happens when you bail on us?” Ele asked with a smirk.

“Technically, that plan was made earlier. So if I hanged with you I would be bailing on them.” Edo replied with a similar smirk - probably getting confident now that they were okay.

“Oh if we are talking about technicalities, you promised to spend that day with us two years ago.” Ele replied leaning forward to Edoardo across her.

Ele caught Edoardo’s expression faltering a little probably feeling bad that he broke that meaningful promise but he quickly collected himself.

“From now on, I won’t ever break that promise. I promise. Again.” Edoardo said with a smile and soft eyes while his tone was firm.

Instead of replying Ele extended her hand over the table.

“Deal.” she said as Edoardo shook her hand. Their hands stayed that way longer than needed it be. They had already stopped the hand shaking when their eyes awkwardly met.

It was getting harder and harder for Ele to hide her feelings. What she liked the most in Edoardo was how much he challenged her ideas. She never met somebody like that. Every now and then they also found a common place.

[in-class-daydreams]

Parlay | (Kuroo x Reader) | Chapter 6

- Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~1,600

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Swearing, mention of intoxication, more secondhand embarrassment

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

With Oikawa on the court, and with the opposing team so unprepared for him changing the team’s dynamic, the whistle blew soon enough and Tokyo U had secured their victory. The team lined up in front of their school’s spectator section and said their thanks. (Y/N) noticed Kuroo’s eyes roaming the stands as if he were searching for someone. Stating they had a history exam in the morning, Shusei and Tamaki said their goodbyes, though not without Shusei lamenting not getting to meet ‘them hotties’ with (Y/N).

“Kenma! You were so cool today!” The setter caught her in his arms when she nearly tackled him outside the locker room. She continued poking fun at him as he blushed and looked away.

“Hey, hey, hey, who’s this cutie?” the eccentric spiker from before came up to them with the Pretty Number 6 beside him. Kenma sighed at his loudness.

“(Y/N), this is Bokuto Kotarou and Akaashi Keiji.”

(Y/N) bowed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Both of you played beautifully today.” Akaashi thanked her politely for the compliment while Bokuto struck a power pose.

“Oya, you’re Kenma’s friend? You wanna come get drinks with the team after this?” Bokuto asked. (Y/N) shook her head in embarrassment at the idea of spending time drinking with a group of guys.

“Oh no, I couldn’t intrude on a team event. You guys should celebrate your victory together as a team, not with some spectator,” she protested.

“Please, you wouldn’t be intruding,” Akaashi spoke up. God, even his voice was pretty, “The event isn’t so exclusive. We’d love to have you.” No one can really resist a request from the pretty setter, so (Y/N) reluctantly agreed.

“All right! The cutie is coming to our party!” Bokuto leaned in, “But don’t think I’m reducing you to ‘cutie’, and please don’t hesitate to tell me if any of my nicknames for you make you uncomfortable.”

(Y/N) smiled at his sweet words and told him he’d done nothing to make her feel unsafe. He gave her a grateful smile in return. The sound of squealing reached her ears once more, signifying a certain someone’s appearance.

“Ah, and who might this cutie be?” the newcomer asked teasingly, holding out a hand for her to shake, “It’s been a while since our court was graced by a girl so pretty~”

Playing along, (Y/N) took his proffered hand, which he turned and brought up towards his lips. Iwaizumi’s large hand came into view when it smacked into the Oikawa’s face.

“Stop being greasy!” he scolded.

“But Iwa-chan, it’s just (Y/N)-chan!” Oikawa whined.

“I don’t care. Don’t flirt with girls that way. It’s not classy.”

“He’s right, Tooru. Your charms have gotten a bit cheesy since we last saw each other.”

“Ehhh? (Y/N)-chan, how could you say that?!”

By then, Kuroo was freshly showered, and ready to have a drink and relax. Exiting the locker room, he saw (Y/N) surrounded by his teammates.

“(Y/N)-chan, how could you say that?!” he heard Oikawa cry. (Y/N)-chan… -Chan? -CHAN?? Did she and Crappykawa know each other somehow? He frowned at the way she giggled at the brunette’s antics because… because she was flirting with him right in front of Kenma, of course! But, man, Kenma didn’t look concerned at all. In fact, he looked completely relaxed. Kuroo wondered if there was something he was missing.

~~

“Sksksksk.”

“I’m tiktok famous!”

“Bitch lasagna~”

“WHAT ARE YOUUUUUUUU?!?! AN IDIOT SANDWICH???”

“AN IDIOT CHEF MAKES FOR AN IDIOT SANDWICH!!!!”

“Apple bottom jeans.”

“Boots with the jeans.”

“Shawty got jeans, jeans, jeans--”

“No, it’s ‘SHAWTY IMMA PARTY ‘TIL THE SUNDOWN’”

“Uhmmm nooooo….it’s ‘yo nice skirt’ get it right sksksks.”

Ah, boys. They are an enigma. College guys were just tall 8 year olds with muscles and student debt. Drinks was being hosted by the tall, intimidating, taciturn spiker that introduced himself politely as Ushijima Wakatoshi. The man in question was lounging near the minibar. The apartment was clean and modern, if not somewhat minimalistic.

Bokuto and Nishinoya, the energetic libero she’d met upon arrival, were somehow already shirtless and… having a flexing match, maybe? (Y/N) wasn’t entirely sure. It hadn’t been 20 minutes since they’d arrived, and (Y/N) had the sinking feeling that both of them were doing this completely sober. To the right of the large studio apartment, Kenma, Kuroo, and Oikawa were playing Pario Marty 8.

“Wahh, I wanted to be Peach!”

“Just be Rosalina!”

“But Tetsu-chaaaan, I wanna be the O.G. badass!”

Akaashi walked up to the counter and sat down beside her. He offered her a drink, which she declined, saying Iwaizumi was bringing her one. Settling into his seat, Akaashi followedr her line of sight to the group of idiots yelling at each other across the room.

“They’re always so loud like this. I’m not sure why,” he sighed.

Iwaizumi appeared to (Y/N)’s left and sat down as well. “Probably because they share one tiny brain cell between the two of them. Kenma has his own that he refuses to share.”

(Y/N) thanked him for the drink he handed her. Amused, she asked, “A whole brain cell? How many do those two have, then?” She gestured to the shotgunning challenge Bokuto and Noya were having.

“Zero,” her companions said in unison. The three of them laughed. They made small talk together about their majors, the match they played earlier, the tea house. (Y/N) thoroughly enjoyed the pretty setter’s company as well as getting to spend time with Hajime-kun again. Despite the overall chaos in the room, there was a certain warmth that came from spending time as a group like this.

“So it’s only 12:30 and Kuroo’s overly competitive ass has had EIGHT drinks already, right?” Bokuto had come down from his adrenaline high, humbled by his tragic loss to his much smaller opponent, and the owl-haired boy was content with embarrassing his his close friend, “Bro thinks he’s just tearing it up on the dance floor, but by then he was just kinda swaying a little, but it’s all good because he’s hot (no homo), and this group of college girls is in a booth makin’ eyes at him because, again, even if he’s deliriously drunk, he’s still hot as funk (no homo times two). Eventually, one of the girls struts over - all confidence and long legs and dang - anyway, they flirt a bit, and he gets invited to their table (tfti). I end up sitting at the bar and getting a drink, and when I look over, my boy is sloooowly leaning in, and I’m like, ‘Okay, Tetsu, get it!’ The girl’s friends had left the booth the give them a little privacy, but they’re still kinda watching from afar because, friends, yanno, and the girl has her eyes closed and she is ready for this kiss aaaaand...” Bokuto stopped for dramatic effect. “Homeboy misses her face entirely and faceplants into the table, dead asleep.”

His audience erupts in laughter and the wild-haired boy’s expense. Speak of the devil, as he walks up right as Kenma is starting his own story.

“At lunch today, (Y/N) was taking his order and--”

“DON’T TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THAT!” Kuroo screamed in horror. His teammates laughed even harder. Enjoying catching their scheming teammate off-guard, they pressed harder.

“What did you do, Tetsu-chan? Did you get lost in (Y/N)-chan’s eyes?”

“I bet he did that ugly laugh and scared her off.”

“Maybe he flirted too hard and got slapped.”

They took turns smacking Kuroo on the back, making the boy bury his head in his arms. He felt a smaller, softer hand, not like any of his teammates large, beefy hands, running its fingers through his hair. The tension in his shoulders immediately dissipated until he realized that only a few people had hands that gentle and only one who would actually comfort him right now.

‘(Y/N), I appreciate the thought right now, but if you keep touching me, I’m going to dIE,’ he screamed internally. His teammates ended up dragging (Y/N) away from him to play some sort of game he wasn’t really listening to the name of. As those delicate fingertips faded away from his scalp, he looked up discreetly to find (Y/N) already looking at him. 

She gave him a smile, that smile he was beginning to see whenever he closed his eyes. He smiled back, but his eyes dropped to where hers and Oikawa’s hands were intertwined. The (Y/N) Kuroo had been spending time with as of late didn’t seem like that kind of person, but he knew men could be sharks, and he needed to make sure he wasn’t one of them. 

For the sake of Bro-Code, and for the sake of Kenma’s relationship, Kuroo decided he had to really try to distance himself from her. 

He had to, before he found himself in too deep.

~~

(A/N): Hello everyone!! Things will start to take a turn that will make you wanna slap Kuroo through the screen...but for those of you who are Oikawa stans (I am too), we’re planning an Oikawa x Reader as well :) Once again, thanks for all the support it really means a lot to us! See you soon!

- Admin Kiwi-Chan 030

Friends and Best Friends help you out when you’re drunk, but only best friends expose your ass afterwards. Hope you enjoyed!

- Admin Mango-Chan

~~

Taglist: @joyful-jimin @nekomas-kuroo

[ohmightydevviepuu]

hello love (a silent kiss from a wish) / part two for CS January Joy day 24

hello love (a silent kiss from a wish) part two of two PART ONE | AO3

When Elsa admitted that she had no control over the ice swirling around and seeping into Emma’s bloodstream, Emma knew fear unlike any she’d experienced yet.

She just--she wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. And that they would all live, happily ever after.

(She was barely conscious and did not see the glow of the wishing star in the ice underneath her.)

--

or, after the Ice Wall, Emma comes face-to-face with some facts about her future.  (time travel/time swap/time slip)

--

for @shireness-says​, who makes very reasonable demands for @distant-rose​, wishing you a very merry unbirthday today and all days

for @thisonesatellite​ and @profdanglaisstuff​, always and @optomisticgirl​, who needs to answer for the unholy amount of criminal minds i watched while editing this

for the 2020 @csjanuaryjoy​, thank you!

@kmomof4​ @shardminds​ @carpedzem​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @mariakov81​ @katie-dub​ @stahlop​ @winterbaby89​ @mahstatins​

AO3

--

ten.

Hook needed a minute before he followed Emma’s voice down the stairs and into the kitchen. The clothing felt different; he was less familiar with the buttons and the buckles and the zips and it was an easier adjustment to make than taking in everything around him.

She had to call for him again before he took a breath and walked downstairs.

Emma’s back was to him while she busied herself at the stove. She still wore her sleeping shirt, offering a tantalizing view of bare legs, and a tattered black dressing gown that looked very much like the one provided him by the Widow Lucas. He’d worn it, he was sure, just yesterday.

It looked better on her.

“That doesn’t seem like yours, love,” Hook said, coming up behind her.

“You know how it is, Hook,” she said, teasing. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Swan,” he said, “but I’m a pirate. Never been much for laws, meself.”

Emma laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just--you’ll understand someday why that’s funny. I promise.

He chuckled. Emma turned, smiling at him over her shoulder. Her smile was still contagious, and this, this--

If this was his future, his wife teasing him with that smile after he woke up in the bed they shared, he could get used to this. This was a future worth waiting for, worth fighting for; a happy ending.

Hook could feel an answering grin on his face as he said, “Something smells delicious.”

Emma laughed, delighted. “Yeah?” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Why, Swan,” Hook drawled, “I meant the pancakes, of course.”

“They’re from a box,” she said, flipping one in the air. “Ass.” But she was still smiling.

“But you must admit, it’s a very nice ass.”

“Take that ass and go sit in your chair and wait for your breakfast,” she said, pointing at a dining table with her cooking utensil. Hook laughed--there was his Emma Swan: the one he knew, the one with the too-rare smiles, the one who gave as good as she got or even better.

He, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, lived in a house with Emma Swan that had a dining table, where they sat and took meals together. Like a family.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” she called from the stove, and Hook tensed. “Because pancakes are literally the only thing I can cook. Henry won’t even let me scramble eggs anymore.”

Hook exhaled. “And where is the lad?”

“He’s with Regina,” Emma said. She carried a plate stacked high with pancakes to the table, and sat down. It was strange, or maybe even impossible, but when she came near him, Hook felt--better.

He didn’t eat the pancakes. He watched her.

“You’re watching me,” she said.

“Aye,” he admitted.

“You know, you still do that,” she said. “Now, I mean. In this time.”

“I can’t imagine I would ever get tired of it,” Hook said, and Emma wrapped her hand around his hook. His hook. “You’re beautiful, love.”

She tried to hide it, but there was a pleased grin on her face as she turned back to her breakfast.

 eleven.

They still made a good team.

She finished her pancakes, and he helped her clear the table. She rinsed the dishes, and he set them to dry, and all the while, Hook couldn’t stop himself watching her. She did look different, he decided. There was silver in her hair, and very faint lines about her eyes--perhaps from smiling, Hook realized. Perhaps he had helped put those lines there. Her face, her entire person, seemed fuller, somehow. There was an ease in her posture and she moved differently.

Emma made herself a cup of hot chocolate. “So,” she said, cradling it in her hands as she sat on the couch. “I have a confession to make.”

“Most women--”

“Do not even start that shit with me, Hook.” She batted playfully at his arm. “I know all of your lines.”

“Did any of them work?” he asked, raising his eyebrows dramatically. “That is, aside from the obvious.” Hook held up his hand, and she took it in hers.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “They worked. They maybe, kinda worked too well?”

“Are you asking me?” Hook said.

“I think I know what happened,” she said. “With the whole--time-displacement-thing. Why you woke up here, in the future. I think I might have done something.”

“So we’ll undo it,” Hook said. He was confident.

“God, I love that about you,” she said. “The way you just always--” She gestured, eloquently, but didn’t finish. “And after all of the shit we’ve seen, you still just--”

Emma looked away, seemingly overcome, but this Emma was something Hook knew how to deal with. So he said nothing, letting her gather her thoughts again, letting the silence lengthen as she sipped her beverage.

“I’m a survivor, Swan,” he said, a quiet offering into the stillness. She smiled, a faint thing, but it was there. “And I choose to align my course with yours. It has yet to send me astray.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, the smile fading.

“Though I’m guessing it isn’t always fair winds and sunny skies,” Hook said. “This morning, when you--I take it that’s not the first time it’s happened?”

She shook her head. “Still a perceptive pirate,” she muttered.

“Do I--does it happen often? The nightmares?”

“Sometimes,” Emma admitted. “And then sometimes, it’s my turn. Archie says it’s--” She stopped again, biting her lip.

“You can tell me,” Hook said.

“I can tell you anything,” Emma said, squeezing the hand she still held. “But I shouldn’t tell you this.”

“You and I both know, to our peril, the danger of interfering with a timeline,” Hook agreed. He released her and placed his hand against his stomach. “Something to do with this, I take it?”

It was an ugly scar, as though he had been run through with a blade of some kind, and it occurred to Hook to wonder how he possibly could have survived such a thing.

She nodded. “Not my finest hour.”

Hook stared. Surely she did not mean--

“You did this?”

She shrugged, looking suddenly faint. “You asked me to.” Emma put her hand against her forehead, then dropped it against her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said abruptly. “I think I’m going to--”

He barely had time to take the mug from her hands before she was standing, rushing toward the bathroom.

 twelve.

Emma was in the courtyard, outside the diner, and Killian stood on the steps and watched her.

He still loved to watch her. She was frustrated and overwhelmed and pacing, her arms wrapped around herself. She walked back and forth, between the table where she had kissed him for the first time after Neverland--mere days ago, in this time--nearly falling off of her chair in their need to pull themselves closer together; and the table where she had, just a few weeks ago, told him he was going to be--

“This is insane,” Emma said.

The table over there, in the corner, where he and Henry had been caught teaching Neal how to play, and to cheat, at dice before pulling Dave in for a round of poker that had become a regular habit.

Killian and Snow were usually the biggest winners--but then again, both of them cheated. Emma tended to roll her eyes and let them win, except when she was in the mood to prove a point, but Dave got flustered every time, which just added to the fun.

“We should tell someone,” Emma was muttering. “There is an actual metric fuckton of magic in this stinking town and someone here should be able to help us--”

Everywhere he looked, his life was laid bare before his eyes, and the woman who had helped make that life possible was talking to herself in the midst of yet another crisis. Killian could see it on her face as she ran through the possibilities he himself had already considered, discarding each one as useless just as he had done.

But Killian had figured it out, he had remembered.

He stepped down to meet her, grasping her arm with his hook to turn her around. “Swan,” he said, forcing her to look at him. “It’s fine, love, we just--”

“It’s not fine,” she said. “What, exactly, are we going to do about this, Marty McFly? Tell me, since you’ve seen it all before, how we’re going to get him back--and how we’re going to send you back to the future?” Emma exhaled an agitated breath, pushing her hair out of her eyes with her palm. “It’s never fine.”

She wasn’t speaking only of their current predicament, he knew.

“It is,” he insisted. “I know it feels overwhelming, like you haven’t had a breath, and I’m not saying that it gets easier--”

“Then what are you saying?” Her eyes flared. “You standing here is freaking proof of exactly how not-fine it is.”

“On the contrary, Swan--”

“What, then?” She looked so--defeated, and Killian felt his heart constrict in his chest. He needed her to understand, he needed her to realize.

“I’m saying that the best way--the only way--out is always through, Swan,” Killian said. “I’m saying that the only way through is to learn to appreciate the quiet moments.”

“That’s what you always say,” Emma said. “But, Killian, I can’t--”

He knew. I can’t lose you, that’s what she always said.

“I know,” he said. “Swan, I know. But I’m a survivor, just like you.” He pushed her hair off of her shoulder and gave her a small smile.

“How do you do that?” she asked. “Ever since you turned around that stupid boat, you’ve just--you--”

“You and I, love, we always fight for each other,” he said. “That’s what you and I have chosen--not to be together in spite of all that we have endured, but to support and love each other because of it.”

He was pushing her, Killian knew it; he was pushing her too hard and too fast with too much, but he needed her to hear it. When she exhaled, her breathing was unsteady, and Killian braced himself.

This was the part where she ran. This was always the part where she ran. This Emma, in this time--he may just have cost them--both of them, all of them--everything. If she shut down now, if she--

She surprised him.

Emma Swan was always surprising him.

She took a step toward him and rested her head against his shoulder, and he tensed for an instant--the weight of her was so familiar--before Killian put his hand in her hair. “I’m sorry, Swan,” he said. “I didn’t mean to--I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered into his shoulder. “But I’m glad you did.” Killian held her, feeling the movement of her as she got her breathing back under control, as he matched his rhythm to hers.

“Also,” he said, “it’s a ship. I’m tired of reminding you.” He said it quietly, but lightly, deliberately breaking the mood.

“Can we just--” Emma said, stepping away, pulling her arms around herself again, reasserting her personal space. “Let’s just figure out what happened, okay? So we can fix it?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said. “As it happens, I’m a bit ahead of you there. You see, I know what happened.”

 thirteen.

Hook could hear her in the bathroom. She hadn’t closed the door all the way, and she was retching, repeatedly and violently. Hook wondered what he would normally do in this situation, if he should help her in some way, especially when she’d seemed so upset.

He distracted himself by taking in his surroundings, but--

It had been a long time since he had cause to worry about the well-being of anyone else, and he had found that he liked it, on the rare occasions when his Emma allowed it. He knew they shared something, some understanding that let him be the one she could turn to when no one else could get through to her, but to see the physical manifestation of that all around him, in the band on his finger, in the pictures that even in this living area dominated every surface, was an entirely new kind of feeling. There were books on every shelf, histories and biographies, editions in Greek and Latin that he knew were from his collection on the Jolly Roger, a battered copy of something called The Stars, which appeared to have maps of this realm’s constellations and a Storybrooke Public Library stamp on its interior. His journals, bound in leather, so many years’ worth, stacked neatly against reference manuals for what appeared to be criminal investigative procedures, shelved in between large books full of recipes.

A telescope stood in the corner. When Hook looked through it, he could see the harbor, and the familiar masts of the ship that had been his home for more than two centuries; but it had never been home in the way that this place already felt like it was. This was not a life predicated upon survival only--this was about living, about enjoying the moments. This was a life they had clearly chosen and built together, and the home they had chosen to do it in.

Hook knew that it was more than their possessions, gathered and curated. It was Emma. She was his home. He’d known that since the day he’d left her at the town line in her little yellow vessel her with son, and watched her--them--for what he thought would be the last time.

There was a flushing sound, and Hook heard the water running in the sink just as Emma’s talking phone began to ring.

“Swan?” Hook called.

“Yeah, I hear it,” she called back, stepping past him to take up the device and answer it. “Dad?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him, whispering the word sorry, and started to sway back and forth on her feet as she waited for her father to stop for breath. “Dad, it’s fine, we’re fine,” she said. He worries, she whispered.

Hook smiled. That was a fact with which he was intimately familiar.

“No,” she said, “look, yeah, I know we’re late, something came up--”

There was another stream of barely-audible chatter over the phone as Charming got himself going again.

“Dad,” Emma said, her voice firm, “do not come here, or I swear to you I will put another barrier spell up around the door.” There was another pause and more chatter. “Whatever,” she said. “You and mom like tacos--Killian and I like pancakes.”

The prince’s voice was almost loud enough for Hook to make words out now--and even more agitated.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, “Killian’s fine, I’m fine, I promise, we are all fine.”

More chatter, quieter and calmer this time.

“Yeah,” Emma said again. “Yeah, ok. Ok. Talk to you later. Ok. Love you too.”

She ended her conversation and threw the device at the couch. “Right,” she said, directing her focus back at Hook. She smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Swan,” he said, “are you sure you’re well?” He was worried he’d upset her, somehow.

Emma smiled, surprising him, since she still looked rather green about the gills. “Better than I’ve ever been,” she said. “I promise. So, I have a proposition for you. What do you say we get out of here, go for a walk or whatever, enjoy the ‘quiet moments’,” she made an exaggerated gesture with her fingers. “We’ll talk more.”

“Aye, Swan,” he said. “Let’s sail away.”

 fourteen.

“Have you ever had a dream,” Killian began, “where it felt so real that you could not be sure if it was actually a memory?” He clenched his hand into a fist and forced himself to relax it again. “Where you felt it, deep inside of you, and it felt true, but you couldn’t make sense of it, so you convinced yourself it was just your imagination?”

They had walked, by silent but mutual accord, to the park, though Killian steered clear of the small lake that should not have been deep enough to accommodate the draught of Charon’s boat. Sometimes, in the light of the full moon, he imagined he could see the ferryman--that he could feel the Darkness pulling at his soul and the Underworld attempting to reassert its claim upon him. It was on those nights that he found himself volunteering to stay up with Dorothy to watch Ruby, unable to stay home and in his bed with his wife when he felt--everything--rushing through him.

Emma’s moods were less predictable, but on her bad nights he always knew where he’d find her: half asleep with her back pressed against the basement door. Those were the mornings when one or both of them would phone the cricket.

Emma, perhaps sensing his discomfort--though not understanding its origin--took him to one of the benches on the far side of the park.

“I guess,” Emma said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Killian scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to cobble together the details of what she had told him, the other Emma Swan, his wife, his True Love, when she had spent this day with his other self.

“Is that...what this is?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “Only I’ve just realized, it wasn’t a dream at all. It was real.” He repeated it, almost to himself. “It was all real.” His half-forgotten dream was the reality he woke up to every day.

“What are you saying, Hook?”

Perhaps he had not been able to let himself believe in it before now.

“I don’t have any memories of this day, Swan,” he said. “Waking up in the loft, seeing you after your ordeal--none of it. But I do have memories of spending the day with you.”

“In the future?”

“Aye,” Killian said again. What he remembered--it was just a feeling. The rings, on his finger and hers, and around her neck. Warmth and light and love and hope and family.

“Did you happen to make any wishes in the ice cave last night, love?”

“No,” Emma said immediately. “No, of course not--oh.”

Killian snorted.

“Oh, shit,” she said.

“Tell me if this sounds familiar,” he said. “It’s very cold, colder than you’ve ever been, and as you begin to pass out, you--”

“--wished that I knew everything would turn out okay,” Emma finished. She appeared stunned. “That we would all live happily ever after.”

“Exactly so,” he said. “And here I sit.” He bowed his head.

“That’s...heavy,” she said.

“Weight has nothing to do with it,” Killian said, and winked. The itch was back in his fingertips, the need to touch her, and Killian resisted it.

“Netflix and chill, huh?” Emma put her hand on his thigh.

“Your idea, Swan,” he said. “Not mine.” Nights on their couch--so many nights, takeout containers from the diner strewn across the small table--and Henry had started actively avoiding them whenever she opened a conversation with “Wanna go home and see what’s on Netflix?”

He put his hand over hers.

“Do I change my name?” she asked suddenly.

“Your--” Killian blinked. “Your name? Why, love?”

“When we get married,” she said, tracing the ring on his fourth finger. “It’s a custom here, like, in this realm, but I’ve never considered myself to be the type.” She smiled at him, at his bemusement. “You keep fiddling with this, as if it doesn’t fit, or doesn’t belong. But I’ve literally never seen you without it.”

Killian turned his hand so that their fingers laced together. “Aye,” he said. “It’s true, Swan, I have another ring I prefer to wear these days.”

“I’m actually pretty good at my job, you know,” she said with another smile. “Observational skills and all of that.”

“I’ve never doubted it,” he said seriously.

 fifteen.

She transported them by magic to the deck of the Jolly Roger, and Hook wasn’t sure which surprised him more: to be on her decks again, or to see Swan so at ease in her abilities.

Emma didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s just--I learned the hard way, on a really steep curve,” she said, and Hook’s hand went hesitantly back to the scar on his side, her eyes following his movements. Perhaps she had healed him. “Yeah,” she said, apparently understanding his unspoken question. “I mean, not, like, exactly, but--yeah.”

He tried--and failed--to imagine what it would have taken to heal such a wound. Her face revealed nothing. “You’re not the only one with stories you’d prefer to keep buried, love,” Hook said, tracing the symbols he’d carved into the wood of the ship’s helm: P and S, and the marks he’d gouged with his hook after Baelfire had left.

“Did you miss her?” Emma asked, changing the subject. Hook shrugged, noncommittal. It had taken him weeks to re-adjust to being on terra firma, to lose the vague feeling of landsickness after so many years spent out on the water, but he’d spent so long on that ship locked in with his vengeance and his hate. Barracking at the inn with Mrs. Lucas in the little room with its bare walls--it was almost like having a clean slate, and Hook was certain that it was more than he deserved. It had been the right thing, giving up his ship, and he’d never looked back.

“I know what you did,” she said, as if he had answered her. “To Ariel, and to Ursula, and I know how you took back the Jolly Roger--which, by the way, you fucked that up too, a little bit. But you made it right in the end, because that’s you do. That’s kind of man that you are.”

Emma smiled, and for the first time since he had woken up that morning, Hook found himself unable to meet her gaze.

"How is it," he said, "that you--"  He paused, pulling at his ear.

"See the best in you?" Emma finished.  "I choose to, Hook.  Every day.  And you've never let me down."

Hook had never been speechless before.

“You said you wanted to talk,” she reminded him. “But you don’t seem to have much to say. You haven’t even asked me any questions.”

“I’m not sure that I intend to,” he said.

“I know,” she said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. She chuckled in response to his raised eyebrow and said, “Oh, yeah--open book definitely goes both ways. You and I, we tell each other everything. It’s kind of like a rule.”

“I’m a pirate, Swan,” he said. “We’ve already discussed my affinity for rules.”

“Call it another thing we had to learn the hard way,” Emma said. Her voice was gentle. “And I know why you’re afraid to ask--about the ship, or, you know, everything. I know what you’re afraid of.”

Hook wasn’t afraid. He was terrified, of losing it, losing all of this, before he even had it.

“I know why you ended up here with me--with this me, in the future,” Emma said. Her head dropped as she settled in against his shoulder. “I made a wish, Killian.”

“You wished for me to be here?”

“In the ice cave,” she said, “It was so cold, you know? Colder than I’ve ever been, and I could hear my dad--I could hear you--and I wanted to know that everything would be ok. That we would all live happily ever after. And I woke up and I found this version of you who was--”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“--so much the man I already knew,” she said, rolling her eyes and talking over him. “I saw that it was real, and that I hadn’t been wrong about you.”

“And I ended up here,” Hook said. It was both a statement and a question.

“I think--” Emma bit her lip. “I think you needed to see it just as much as I did. To see that it could exist, that I could be better--that we could be better, together.”

His conversation with the queen on this very deck still haunted him: Villains don’t get happy endings. Hook stepped away so suddenly that Emma nearly fell. He grasped her bicep and turned her to face him and his breath was unsteady as he said, “How can you possibly know that?”

Emma reached for his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face and combing her fingers through it. “This is True Love,” she said. “You think this happens every day?”

Hook inhaled a shaky breath. He lifted his hand to take hers and leaned his forehead down so that their noses were nearly touching. “Swan,” he said, “you know I can tell when you’re quoting something.”

Emma laughed, and he loved the feel of it, the warmth, against his skin. “And I love that you never know what it is.”

“True Love?” he said, pulling back to look at her. “Emma, I know you care for me, but--”

“True Love,” she insisted. “Capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’, babe.”

They stood like that, locked together, taking comfort from each other as the familiar creak of the old boards against his feet was like a soothing balm against his soul.

True Love. That was the rarest magic of all.

“What now, Swan?” Hook asked.

 sixteen.

“So--” Emma asked. “What now?”

“We wait,” Killian said.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “I’m not great with waiting.”

Killian laughed. “A fact which, I assure you, has not escaped my attention,” he said, bumping his leg against hers. “I am, as you are aware, quite perceptive.”

“Didn’t answer my question, though,” Emma said.

He knew. But waiting was the answer, and Killian wanted to enjoy his time with her.

“We have our wits,” Killian said. “Let’s focus on being productive.”

“Ugh.” Emma snorted. “Are you always this cheesy? Like, in the future?”

She was still holding his hand. He squeezed it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She squeezed back. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe I would.” Emma leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Killian lowered his until his cheek just brushed against her hair--and there it was, the smell that was Emma. He inhaled, deeply, and it felt like home.

“So this won’t change anything, will it?” Emma said. “I mean, you’ve told me some things, but--if all of this has already happened, nothing should change, right?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said. Then, after a moment: “I hope not.”

“But we won’t remember,” Emma said. “Not consciously.”

“When I leave,” Killian said, “everything will be just as you remember it; your life will carry on exactly as it did. But this day--it happened, love. And you’ll always know that, deep down, just as I did.”

“So there’s nothing you would change?” Emma asked. “It’s all, what, sunshine and rainbows and everything is perfect?”

“It’s none of those things,” he said quietly. She sat up, and started to pull her hand away, but he held on tightly. “It’s life, Swan. It’s messy and complicated. And some of the things that you--that we--have survived to make it this far are terrible.”

“So why--” she said. “How can you not want to change that? To make it better?”

Killian shook his head. He thought of all of the things he had seen--all of the things yet to come to pass, to be lived, for both of them. The Darkness that had broken them almost beyond repair; breaking them so much that they should never have been able to forgive themselves, or each other, for what had happened, except that they had chosen to--chosen to piece themselves back together, their broken bits that somehow fit perfectly--and for a long moment, or an eternity, Killian had no words.

It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and complicated and wonderful.

It was--every day, sometimes every moment--a challenge. But after all of these years, and everything he had seen and done and survived, he still loved a challenge.

Especially a challenge like Emma Swan.

“I could never take the risk, don’t you see?” Killian said. “I could never take the risk that I might lose you, or our future. The fact that we make it through everything to come, and we do it together, is worth fighting for.”

They had all the time in the world.

“Killian,” Emma said, tears in her eyes.

“It’s not easy,” he said. “You and I, we were tested very harshly by fate, and by the whims of the gods. But we choose each other, always. That’s what it means to be True Love.”

She started to pull away again, and Killian cursed. He definitely should not have said that. He let her go, watched her stand up, and turn away, and turn back again, before she repeated, disbelief radiating from every syllable: “True Love? Like, capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’ true love?”

“Aye,” he whispered.

 seventeen.

Hook felt her words as if they were actually settling onto his heart, imprinting there; her arms braced against his were an anchor in the chaos. He felt unshakable--and so, so shaken. The future was an unknown, something untested and untouchable and for the first time in more years than he cared to count he felt as though he might actually have a future.

Like something within him had shifted.

“I have to send you back,” she said, and there was sadness in her eyes and in her voice. He felt warm everywhere she touched him, but his mind was too full to notice, too full of this world she--he--they lived in. Together. Looking at her, feeling her against him, was like breathing in the sun. Only she wasn’t--this wasn’t--his Emma Swan.

“She loves you already, you know,” Emma said, rubbing his arm with her hand, running her fingers through his hair. “That night, the night in the ice wall, that’s when she knew, and it terrified her.”

His Emma Swan with her mile-high walls and his indefatigable quest to persuade her to lower them, to let him in.

“She’s not a little lost girl anymore,” Emma said. “She finds herself in you. It’s you, Killian. That’s her happy ending, the way you find yourselves in each other.”

He wanted that, he wanted to be the one who helped her break them down, brick by brick, and to meet the woman who lived inside.

“Be patient with her, Killian.”

Hook closed his eyes. “Will I remember any of this?” he asked.

She didn’t answer him. “Do you trust me?” Emma asked instead. She put her hand on his chest, over his heart.

“I trust you,” he said. “Always.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “To the end of the world. Or time.”

Emma nodded. “I’m going to tell you something, Killian, something I learned a long time ago: you and I, we aren’t together in spite of all of this crazy, fucked-up shit we’ve seen. We’re together because of it. Because we choose to be.” She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “Don’t forget that, okay? Don’t stop fighting for us.”

His entire body was itching now, with the way she was pressed against the full length of him. The moment hung between them and she pulled him in even closer, and he kissed her.

He kissed her.

It was sweet and thankful, determined and resolute, and it felt like both a hello and a goodbye, and Killian felt almost torn between conflicting realities, and he wanted to reach for her. He grasped for more, desperately, sinking into the warmth of the kiss--he was hot, as silver shots of magic pulsed through his veins--

 eighteen.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and Killian sensed that their time together was growing short. He knew she would leave to go meet Elsa, to examine the ice wall more properly from the outside--it was the first clear memory he had of this day.

“You’re so much like him,” Emma said finally.

“Devilishly handsome, you mean?”

She bit her lip, as though giving consideration to every syllable she was about to utter. She opened her mouth, changed her mind, closed it, opened it again, and then said: “What about me? Am I--”

Killian stood, pulling her into an embrace. His hand went to the back of her neck and when he pressed his forehead against hers she didn’t shy away. He inhaled the scent of her, almost making himself dizzy from her shampoo and her skin and her touch.

“You’re perfect, Swan,” he whispered.

“No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. He pictured the boots in the hallway and more sugar than he could possibly imagine; the mess she left every morning in the washroom and her complete inability to cook anything but pancakes. The way she held him when he couldn’t sleep and the way she let him help her when it was her turn for nightmares and how warmth rushed through his body whenever she was near him. “But you’re perfect for me, and that’s what matters.”

“Am I easier to deal with? Can I--am I better--with, just everything? Feelings?” She let out a long breath. “I’m not ready, Killian, for all of this--I want to be, but I’m not there yet--”

“Aye, love, I know.”

“How do I ask him to--”

“He’ll wait, Swan. He’s a very patient man. He’ll--” (it wasn’t funny, but Killian laughed) “--go to hell and back for you.”

It was as if something broke within her at the words. It really was a bad joke, that, and she didn’t even know the punchline yet.

“You listen to me, Killian Jones,” Emma said sharply, her eyes flashing. “If you end up in hell, I am coming in after you and dragging your ass back to Storybrooke.” She brought her head to his shoulder again. “I’m not losing you.”

His entire body was itching now, with the way she was pressed against the entire length of him. The moment hung between them and she pulled him in even closer, and he kissed her.

He kissed her.

It was sweet and thankful, determined and resolute, and it felt like both a hello and a goodbye, and Killian felt almost torn between conflicting realities, and he wanted to reach for her. He grasped for more, desperately, sinking into the warmth of the kiss--he was hot, as silver shots of magic pulsed through his veins--

 nineteen.

Killian came to himself all at once, anchored by the familiar embrace of his wife. His wife. The feeling, the flash of magic, pushed outward, and he felt it all the way down to his toes as he kissed her, kissed her until he couldn’t think straight, kissed her as he pushed her up against the wheel and she gasped and said, “Killian?”

He rested his forehead against hers, catching his breath, pressing his palm against her abdomen. “Aye, love. Did you miss me?”

 twenty.

It was dark out, and Emma was furious.

That was a lie.

She wasn’t furious, she was terrified--which was worse, so she focused on her anger, and her target. Hook had settled himself outside of Granny’s, at the same table where she’d kissed him just days ago. He had that same look in his eyes, his fucking blue eyes--all soft and sad and waiting for her to just tell him what she wanted from him, and he would give it to her, and he took a sip of his rum and said, “Swan!”

She started to turn, but no. She was too furious. Too terrified. There was too much happening, and all of it was happening at once, which was pretty much the entire fucking story of her entire fucking life at this point, and she thought she’d gotten used to it, but something about the snow monster--or maybe it was the ice wall, or the woman who seemed to know her, or the way that Hook and David had nearly died today--

“Don’t make a man drink alone,” he said, and she could swear he pouted, and fuck literally all of that.

“Not in the mood for a drink,” she said, which was also a lie. “Or a man.” Another lie. She heard the scraping of his chair against the courtyard pavement as she walked by him and into the street.

Hook followed her. Of course he did. If there was thing she’d learned about Captain Hook--about Killian Jones--

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you today, all right?” he said, calling after her.

--it was that he would follow her past the end of the world.

She needed that, needed him--and he could have fucking died today.

“I know you feel like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Hook said, and thank you, Captain-fucking-Obvious, that’s what it meant to be the Savior, and she almost hadn’t saved him today, and--

“But at some point,” he said, his hook around her arm forcing her to turn and face him, “even though we’re quite different, you’ve got to trust me.”

Emma stopped. That’s--he thought that--? She raised her voice and it was almost an accident. Maybe it would help cover the fear she didn’t want leaching through. “That’s what you think this is about? That I don’t trust you?”

Hook looked at her, confused, his hook still around her arm. “Is that not what this is about?”

Emma wanted to laugh. Or maybe to cry.

Her parents had the baby. Her brother, Neal, and--yeah, that was going to take a lot of getting used to. Henry was worried about Regina. (So was she.) Ruby was gone. Emma had been locked in a wall of ice and the only thing that had started to make her feel warm again--safe--was the feel of his arms around her, so much so that she had made him sleep sitting up on the floor; she had let herself need him. She literally had no one else in her life she trusted as much as she trusted him right now, who she lo--”Of course I trust you!”

“Then why,” he said, his own voice rising in agitation, “do you keep pulling away from me?”

Which was--accurate. But--didn’t he see? She couldn’t--”Because everyone I’ve ever been with is dead,” she said, and Emma felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Neal--and Graham--even Walsh.” She looked at him, at his eyes, his stupid blue eyes all soft and sad and supportive and said, “I’ve lost everyone. I--”

He waited. Emma lov--hated when he did that. How did he always do that, just--”I can’t lose you, too,” she said.

“Well, love,” he said, “you don’t have to worry about me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

The moment hung in the air between them.

But I’m a survivor, just like you. The words were like an echo in her head as Killian looked at her, and Emma refused to look away, and she didn’t just see it, she felt it--the moment something changed and he pulled her toward him and kissed her.

He kissed her.

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (7/18)

Chapter 7: Romantic as a Pair of Handcuffs

It has been a busy month for the Valentine Detective Agency—Madelyn, Nick and Piper regroup to go over all the evidence in the case against Eddie Winter. Marty Bulfinch arrives with a lead and an invitation to an event perfect for “Charmer” and Deacon. After having her partnership with the Railroad spy questioned a second time by Piper, Madelyn confides in the most unlikely of people. Later, at the Third Rail, it’s showtime for two undercover agents.

“Well, you’re about as romantic as a pair of handcuffs.” - Debby Marsh as played by Gloria Grahame (The Big Heat, 1953)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

April 8th, 1958

The first signs of spring arrived in Boston not a moment too soon, alleviating the city from a harsh winter—weather wise, at least. Piper couldn’t resist using the change in seasons as a clever headline for the latest edition of Publick Occurrences— “Winter is over, but Eddie Winter isn’t.” It had been a busy month for the mob boss, who had all but taken control of all the major crime families in the city. With the exception of a few holdouts, his men had wormed their way across the criminal underground and begun to infiltrate once reputable businesses. Nowhere in Boston was safe.

Madelyn had kept herself just as occupied, juggling her work with the agency and the Railroad. Most days she would investigate leads with Nick, tracking down the necessary proof to pin Winter for his crimes. In her spare time she was partnered up with Deacon, fielding the work from Desdemona or Doctor Carrington, and the few odd job from Tinker Tom (maybe odd was putting it lightly). The two had caught a break and made contact with a surviving safehouse—Randolph—and worked to bring them back into the fold, strengthening the organization numbers. It was still slow going as the data from the Switchboard was decrypted, but she was glad to have given the group—and Deacon—a second chance.

Meanwhile, the agency had been successful in collecting the evidence that had been disappearing from police custody through their own unscrupulous means—but if there was sabotage within the precincts, their options were extremely limited. MacCready’s lead on recordings had so far been a dead end, as promising as it sounded. Nick had followed up on the rumor with his old friend Marty Bulfinch at Precinct 8 but finding physical proof of Eddie Winter’s crimes was like trying to capture lightning in a bottle. Winter’s corruption had spread through the entire government—from law enforcement to the mayor’s office—with anyone from beat cops to prosecutors offered bribes. Nobody could be trusted.

Madelyn was carefully inspecting the handwriting of a newly obtained letter, comparing the messy scrawl to the copies on hand, trying to determine if the note MacCready snatched off a drunken police detective belonged to their set. She read over the lines of text again, wishing that more than a few words in a sentence were intelligible. The most she could make out were the words sir, head, and artist. Whatever that meant. At least she could say the scribbles belonged to the same hand who wrote the other letters. Even though none had been signed, there was enough inference to say Eddie Winter had penned them all.

“He’s done it again!”

A Boston Bugle newspaper slammed down right atop of Madelyn’s work, causing her to snap up in alarm. Nick was fuming, pacing in front of her desk as a waft of cigarette smoke trailed behind his head like a halo. This wasn’t a surprising mood to find him in as of late—as they ramped up their investigation, the detective had become more stressed than ever, bordering on manic—relentless in his endeavor to stop Eddie Winter’s takeover of Boston. Late nights in the office had left his jaw shadowed, in need of a shave, and his light green eyes were dull with sleep deprivation.  

Madelyn glanced down to read over the newspaper print, frowning when she saw the bolded typeface—Boston mob leader Ron Trevio found dead. Nick paused in his footsteps and approached, reaching down to tap his finger against the article in question.

“What they don’t say is that Winter had him assassinated,” he muttered, reaching up to grab at the nearly burnt out cigarette. Madelyn scooted the ashtray she kept in her office specifically for him closer so he could snuff the smoke out. “Whoever he got to do the job blew his head clean right off, destroying the bullet in the process.”

She grimaced at the thought, swallowing down the sickly feeling that crept up her throat. Not that she doubted Nick, but she questioned what made him so confident. Trevio was a mid-level player on the mob-scene but had stayed out of Winter’s way—rumor was that he was even making plans to head east to New York. For him to wind up dead and deposed of in such a gruesome way seemed unbefitting of even Eddie Winter.

“Are you sure?” Madelyn asked, watching as Nick ran a hand through his dark hair, distraught. “We both know he’s unhinged but this…this seems brazen.”

Her partner gestured to the newspaper again. “He knows he can get away with it. He has this entire city in his palm, and this is a warning to anyone who dares to go against him.”

She considered his words, wondering if he had thought about what Eddie Winter would do if he knew about the depth of their investigation. It was likely no secret to the crime-family organization that the Valentine Detective Agency was after them, but Nick had always been considered a joke to the city—something that used to bring him shame, he was now using to his advantage to keep their work under wraps. Still, Madelyn was on edge. If Winter and his men knew how much they had discovered, how close they were to finding a smoking gun, her and Nick were as sure as dead.

“Hey doll,” her partner called her from her thoughts, and she flicked her gaze up to meet his eyes. “You alright?”

This was what she signed up for, wasn’t it? When she first came to the agency all those years ago, he didn’t just need a legal assistant, but somebody who would help him in the pursuit of justice. After Nate’s death, she wound up relying on him for similar reasons. Nick was more than her partner, but her friend and somebody she trusted with her life. She was more than ready to see the Eddie Winter case to the very end with him, even if it killed her.

She put forth a smile. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

Before Nick could protest, quick footsteps echoed though the lobby and the two could hear Ellie correcting their guest to the right office.  

“Oh so we’re in here for a change,” Piper joked sarcastically, taking a second glance at Madelyn’s name on the door before entering. She had a copy of the Boston Bugle and her own newspaper tucked under her arm, her bright red coat thrown over the other. As she threw herself into one of the cushioned armchairs, she let out a large sigh. “You saw the news?”

“Yes,” Nick and Madelyn answered simultaneously.

Piper regarded them both, grumbling under her breath. She tossed the papers haphazardly towards the desk, and Madelyn had to fumble to catch the copy of Publick Occurrences. The front page lacked any information on the Trevio murder, instead focusing on Mayor McDonough and his finances—sources were able to track donations to the McDonough reelection campaign back to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology—

“This wasn’t the first time a murder has occurred and we’re the last to hear about it,” she sneered, interrupting Madelyn’s reading. “Talk about a media cover-up. Police corruption is one thing, but now Winter is messing with the freedom of the press!”

Nick choked over a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Of course they’d have a mole at the Bugle. Control the flow of information to the public. Spread fear through lies.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Madelyn warned, reading over her friend’s newspaper again.

Ever since the agency had begun collecting hard evidence against Eddie Winter, Piper had been itching to blow the whistle, promising to site the two as anonymous sources. As convincing as she made it sound, and as safe as her previous unidentified informants remained, Nick vehemently denied her request. The agency and Publick Occurrences were cut from the same cloth, and it wasn’t because they shared the same building. If Piper shared any information, she’d be painting a target on her back too.

“I know Blue, I know,” she relented, looking more defeated than before. “We’re so close.”

Nick nodded, pulling a new cigarette from the pack in the breast pocket of his shirt. “We are,” he nodded towards Madelyn as he flicked at his lighter. “Let’s go over the list again.”

She shuffled through the small pile on her desk until she found her steno notebook, lined with the details of the case. With a pen, she started at the top, suppressing the memories the name conjured. “Johnny Montrano, Jr.”

Nick and Piper nodded in agreement that they could still find a way to pin Montrano’s murder on Winter, even without a witness. Based on the information she had learned from Henry, the casefile and street rumors, they could corroborate that Eddie’s old hitman Robert Cooper had been hired for the job.

“Mac said Winter’s boys have been trying to keep that one quiet from Johnny’s pop,” Piper quipped. “Maybe he’s afraid of somebody after all.”

Madelyn shrugged, continuing down the list. “Arlington Green three,” she paused. The bodies had been discovered in the sand-trap just before Thanksgiving while Eddie Winter was still incarcerated at Cedar Junction. “Doesn’t Boston P.D. want to pin this on one of the O’Malley brothers?”

“Doesn’t mean the order wasn’t given down the chain of command,” Nick said, tapping his smoke over the ashtray. “Did they ever identify the victims?”

She solemnly shook her head. “The theory is they were low-level members of the Irish crime families.”

“They also could’ve been innocent bystanders for all we know,” Piper argued. She waved her hand, encouraging Madelyn to read on.

“Arthur Black,” she spoke. “Murdered a waiter in Winter’s presence. His girlfriend was there too.”

“Claire Pozinski, what a piece of work,” Nick scoffed. “What she sees in him—”

“Money, probably,” Piper interjected. “That, or she’s got a few screws lose in the head.”

“That’s besides the point,” Madelyn brought them to attention, dragging her unclicked pen down the paper. “Black was found dead, multiple stab wounds outside one of Winter’s clubs.”

“He was a liability. Leaving him out in the open was a warning to the others,” Nick reminded, harkening her back to their earlier conversation.

She nodded, blood running cold at the next item. “Danvers.”

None of them said a word, silently nodding in agreement. Just over Christmas, right after Eddie Winter had been released from prison, there had been a shooting in a speakeasy in the small town north of Boston. Two rival gangs had encroached on neutral territory and it didn’t take long for guns to go blazing. When the dust settled, each side had their fair share of casualties, but civilians had also perished. The prevailing rumor was that Winter had sparked the confrontation, sending his men to provoke the fight. Police had closed the investigation with all responsible parties arrested, even if their leaders still walked the streets.

“Alice Lansky,” Madelyn voiced after a moment of silence. “The missing safety inspector that was found…” she shook her head, unable to form the words. The poor woman had been stuffed into a barrel, remained dissolved in hydrochloric acid. Out of all of the victims linked back to Eddie Winter’s crime family, her death had been the most grotesque.  

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around why they needed to off a safety inspector,” Nick mused, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw. “How does she fit into this?”

“Maybe she stumbled across something she wasn’t meant to see,” Piper suggested, lips falling into a straight line the moment she said the words. As if Madelyn hadn’t already been worried about meeting an untimely end at the hands of Winter’s men, now she was imagining being crammed into a metal barrel, never to be discovered again. She did her best to hide the shiver that ran down her spine.

“Other than the numerous unexplained disappearances, robberies and drug running that have been occurring,” Madelyn sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “That’s what we have so far.”

“I know we’ve been over this before but,” Piper started. “Are you sure there isn’t anybody you trust within Boston P.D. with this information? Other than Marty, that is.”

Nick smiled, shaking his head. “You must think I’m real thick if you believe I trust that snake in a blue suit, Piper.”

The reporter laughed along with him, though Madelyn held back her amusement as she noticed Ellie leading a guest towards the open office door. She straightened in her seat. “Speak of the devil.”

Marty Bulfinch stood in the doorway with a sly grin, hands poised midair as he surveyed the room. He looked disheveled as always—even the expensive, navy pinstriped suit he wore didn’t do much to hide his less-desirable features. “Nicky, you talking trash in here?”

“You can’t walk around Boston with ducks on your ties and expect people not to say something, Marty,” Nick joked, deflecting what they had been actually been speaking about masterfully.

The other man rubbed at his necktie self-consciously. “Hey now, the other guys think its hilarious.”

Madelyn grimaced, wondering when, or how Nick would’ve ever been friends with such a slimeball. Even if her partner kept him on a short leash, she had her doubts about having the police detective as an informant—it was too risky, for all parties involved.

“What brings you here, Mr. Bulfinch?” she finally questioned, motioning for him to sit in the other armchair. Madelyn knew that her politeness always seemed to unnerve him and fairly quickly his expression shifted, eyes fixating on her as he moved from the doorway to the empty seat. He looked like a nervous child, come to the principal’s office for a punishment—that is, until he flicked his gaze back to Nick.

“You know those recordings you’ve been asking about?” he said, hand disappearing into his jacket pocket before revealing a holotape—technology only used by police, the government and a few lucky hospitals—the others in the office were taken aback by its appearance. “Now, I couldn’t well smuggle a holotape reader out of the office, but, I have it on good authority that this tape has Winter’s voice on it. With some self-incriminating information.”

“You don’t know what it says?” Piper asked directly. “Is there a transcript?”

Marty glared at her, tired eyes unblinking. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he slowly handed it over to Nick, who carefully inspected the foreign piece of data in his palm before passing it over to Madelyn. Marty shifted in his seat. “You’ll have to find your own way to listen to it.”

She had her own ideas, thinking about all of the various gadgets and inventions Tinker Tom had built and tucked away beneath the Old North Church. Of course, she wasn’t about to make the suggestion in front of their guest—for all he knew, the Railroad was a fairytale.

“I also have a lead on where ol’ Eddie might strike next,” Marty continued, fidgeting with his tie again. “Tensions between Winter and Skinny Malone have reached a fever pitch and he’s ready to have him offed.”

“That frosty, huh?” Piper chimed in, eyeing the rest of the room’s occupants. “Last we heard, Winter was allowing Skinny and his Triggermen to operate the speakeasies downtown, as long as they got a cut.”

“Skinny Malone doesn’t want to share anymore,” Marty explained, flatly. “And that made Eddie flip his lid.”

“Any idea on when the hit is supposed to take place?” Nick asked, extinguishing his cigarette. He leaned against the front of the desk, staring his former partner down. “The whole scene has been brimming with activity lately, it could be any day now.”

Marty nodded in agreement. “Skinny Malone is throwing a bash at his joint this Friday to celebrate his broad’s birthday,” he tilted his head side-to-side. “Ya’ know, the Third Rail? It’s been pulling in customers from Scollay Square ever since it opened.”

“That has Eddie Winter written all over it,” Piper remarked, leaning forward eagerly. “There’s no way he’ll make an appearance himself, though, right?”

“I doubt it,” Nick grumbled, considering the information. “Is Boston P.D. working on this? Are they going put Skinny Malone into protective services?”

Marty shrugged. “A few of us are being sent to the Third Rail undercover just in case we have to intercept,” he explained. “That’s when the offer will be made. We don’t expect Malone to come in quietly unless he feels his life is truly in danger.”

“Speaking of,” the investigator spoke, pointing to Nick. “Say the word and I can get you on the short list and inside that club.”

Nick was dumbfounded by the offer for a split second before smirking. “Undercover work isn’t really my schtick, Marty,” he said, raising his right hand to emphasize the prosthetic he wore. “Kind of hard to blend in. And don’t get me wrong but working with a precinct of cops that already hate me seems…risky.”

“I could always fill your shoes,” Piper grinned, fanning her fingers through her hair. Almost immediately the others were shaking their heads.

Madelyn softly chuckled at her friend. “Everybody in town knows about Public Occurrences, Piper. Even if you dyed your hair blonde and wore Nick’s trench-coat, you’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

The reporter slumped, defeated. That’s when Marty reluctantly flicked his gaze to where Madelyn was sitting behind the desk. He cleared his throat. “What about the dame?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, irritated that he was still going on about calling her that. “Madelyn?” When he realized what Marty was implying, he made to argue. “Marty, if you think for a second I’m sending Madelyn in with the wolves, you’re outta your damn mind!”

The danger was very real, and while Nick had every right to be upset and defensive, she couldn’t help but feel offended. It brought her back to that night in the agency, after the destruction of Ticonderoga, when he and Deacon almost came to blows. If the last month proved anything, she did her best work not cooped up in the office or behind a desk, but in action.  

“Nick,” she said his name calmly, gaining his attention. The moment he met her gaze, he knew she had made up her mind. But she could ease his worries, if only slightly. “I don’t have to go alone.”

Piper caught on to what she was inferring immediately, a disgruntled expression pulling at her lips as she sank further into her armchair. Nick remained stoic, but eventually relented as he nodded, looking back to Marty.

“You can get her in?” he asked. “Plus one?”

The Boston police detective looked unsure, meeting her gaze for a long moment. “Uh, sure,” he mumbled, before quirking his mouth up in a smile. “You better come with one hell of a disguise, ya dame.”

Madelyn rolled her eyes, and Nick took the cue, politely gesturing to Marty that it was time for him to leave. “Come on, you oaf, you better get back to the pen before they start searching the gutters for you.”

Marty let out a hearty laugh, slapping Nick on the back as he brought him into a handshake. “Don’t be shy around the precinct, Nicky. They don’t hate you—that much.”

The three were silent as he exited the room, listening to Ellie wish him farewell.

“You’re seriously going to take whatshisname to the Third Rail?” Piper wasted no time in questioning Madelyn as soon as the agency door slammed shut.

“He has a name,” Madelyn replied with a sigh. “If I can’t take you or Nick, what’s the harm in taking Deacon? Undercover work is what he’s best at.”

“Are you sure about that?” Piper mumbled, crossing her arms.

Madelyn frowned. Her friend had been upset ever since she had first met the man and learned of the deception it took to keep the Railroad a secret. The strain hadn’t eased, even as she continued to work with the organization and as his partner. It seemed the reporter couldn’t get past the fact Deacon wasn’t willing to divulge much of the truth—at least with her.

“What do you have against him?” Madelyn asked, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m just saying Blue,” Piper’s tone softened. “You seem to trust this guy a lot, but you barely know him. How long has it been? A few months? And he’s come in here and—whew—swept you off your feet like it’s damn Roman Holiday!”

Madelyn was stunned into silence, a warmth settling in her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, or excitement at having the relationship she had with Deacon described in such a way. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how whirlwind it had been. Since their first meeting in the Memory Den, she had been chasing that feeling back and forth all through winter. There was an unspoken intimacy between the two, lingering touches and close calls where she was sure either one of them could’ve closed the gap and just kissed. And yet, there was also a silent boundary, an invisible line keeping them apart—she had always assumed it was her guilt, the weight of the wedding ring she still wore on her finger, the specter of a dead husband lingering above watching her every move—but now, she wondered if there was something more.

“I mean, what’s with the codenames?” Piper sighed. “Do you even know his real name?”

“I—” Madelyn choked on her words, at a loss. Her friend was right, and she was suddenly second-guessing every one of her emotions all over again.

Nick had been silent through the entire exchange, but finally spoke, reading her mind in the process. “Maybe Piper is right,” he mused with a little shrug. “But damnit if this isn’t the happiest I’ve seen you in months.”

Madelyn was flattered, especially when she noticed the way Nick was smiling at her, considering she knew how there was still tension between the two men whenever they happened to interact. But her chest felt heavy—the doubt had already started to creep its way in. Piper seemed ready to continue her verbal pestering when Nick sharply shook his head in warning.

“Don’t let it get to you,” he assured—a little too late. Still, Madelyn put forth a small smile and nodded. “We should plan for Friday.”

They had work to do.

The conversation with Piper and Nick continued to replay in Madelyn’s head the remainder of the day and into the evening. Even on the carbide home (on which she insisted on, so that Nick could make it home at a reasonable hour for once), her mind was clouded with conflicting emotions. She couldn’t deny that she had felt livelier, more like her true self in recent months—but didn’t want to base that happiness on lies or deception. A part of her understood it was the way the Railroad operated, outside the fringes of society where dishonesty was a necessity.

“Remember, you can’t trust everyone.”

“Even you?” she asked.

“Especially me.”  

Months later, he would put an addendum to his well-spoken phrase, holding her hand as he told her he was in her corner, and always had been. As the memory came to her, all she felt was confusion. Madelyn wanted to see him, but she wasn’t sure what she would do or say, or how her feelings would shift—for better or worse? What was stopping her from acting on impulse like she had been as of late? What if Codsworth had never walked in on them that cold March evening? Would she have kissed him and sealed the deal right then? She shook her head, breaking herself free of her delusions, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to dream of what-ifs. Instead, she needed to focus on the future and what she really wanted—if only she could figure that out.

As Madelyn walked into the lobby of her apartment building, she noticed Drummer Boy at the mailboxes, sifting through various envelopes. He regarded her with a polite smile, moving to join her in the trek up the staircase.

“Have a good day at the agency?” he asked.

She sighed, trying not to sound too disgruntled. When he shot her a concerned look, she forced a smile. “It’s been very…busy. With the Winter case, that is.”

“Right,” Drummer Boy replied, letting her half-assed excuse slide. It was difficult to bluff when she was emotionally compromised, and exhausted after a long day—and hauling herself up seven flights of stairs. “I have a note for you, from Deacon.”

Madelyn swallowed down the tightness in her chest at the mention of his name. “Isn’t he in DC?”

He had been put on a special assignment by Desdemona to make contact with the southern branch—something about helping set up a new safehouse for the newfound agents and assisting with their first round of assignments. As much as Madelyn wished she could’ve joined, her obligation to the agency and the Eddie Winter investigation kept her in Boston.

Drummer Boy nodded, handing over a folded note. “I thought it was a serious correspondence, so uh,” his cheeks became red in color, which made her feel equally flustered. “I shouldn’t have read it.”

The two paused on the third story landing if only so she could scramble to read the letter, which was hardly filled with anything important, or relevant. Rather, it was incredibly lewd, and even a modern woman such as herself was turned flushed by the contents. Of course, she realized fairly quickly as the note rambled on and became more grandiose that it couldn’t possibly be real. Oddly enough, it sparked a wave of relief as she was unable to contain her laughter.

“You know he did this on purpose to get a rise out of you, right?” she chuckled, trying to give it back to Drummer Boy who waved it away, still red in the face.

“His idea of jokes sure are…elaborate,” he sighed, lifting his blue cap to run his hand through his hair. “Too much time on his hands, even hundreds of miles away.”

Madelyn regarded his words. “Do you think he’s bored?”

“No,” he answered as they continued walking up the stairs. “The opportunity to set up a new safehouse is right up Deacon’s alley. Not that he doesn’t have the experience, but to do it all on his own is a big deal.”

“He helped with HQ, right?” Madelyn clarified. She eyed Drummer Boy carefully. “After…”

He looked solemn but held back any grief. “After the Switchboard, yes.”

“Deacon’s been a big help to Dez even before the move, he does a lot more than is asked of a regular agent or heavy,” Drummer Boy mused. “You’d think he was the second in command, or the head honcho but…”

She stole another glance when he paused, seemingly in thought. “You know our history, right?”

Madelyn shrugged, taking a reprieve on the fifth story landing. “Tom once rambled off a lot of codenames to me in-between telling me how the air was going to poison me while I slept and that I needed to take the immunization shot he invented to protect myself against ‘invisible bugs’”

Drummer Boy softly laughed, nodding along. “Well, before Dez, there was Pinky Thompson. She only became leader because of a string of organizational failures under Pinky’s watch.”

“Are you suggesting that somebody might be vying for Desdemona’s position?” Madelyn questioned. “As in, Deacon?”

“No, not really,” he replied. “Deacon would never stage a coup like that. Carrington maybe, but never Deacon,” he smirked. “He’s been around…well, before my time. He was around when Wyatt and John D. ran the show, building the Railroad into the organization into what we know today.”

She found herself amused. “I always thought he was lying when he said he helped create the Railroad. Sounded too boastful, even for him.”

“Well, depending on who you believe or what you make of the records,” Drummer Boy flashed an impish grin. “Some of the agents like to think Deacon and John D. are one in the same.”

The confusion from earlier settled back into her mind, but this time, she wasn’t sure what to make of the information. This was just more conjecture—a rumor—Railroad gossip that had been passed down from agent to agent. Deacon himself had even fanned the flames, relishing in the spotlight. If anything, it only fueled the argument set forth by Piper that Madelyn truly didn’t know anything about him—about his past, about his present…about their future. Rather than anger, she felt despair—whatever had been built between them had to end, and when it did, it wasn’t going to be easy.

On the seventh floor, the two separated to their doors across the hall from one another. Almost as an afterthought, she turned back to him, motioning to her ajar door. “I prepared a pot-roast this morning, if you’d like to join me for dinner,” she offered, feeling more awkward than she meant. Even he looked perplexed. “As my neighbor, Robby. No Railroad business. Otherwise, most of it is going to Dogmeat.”

After a beat, he laughed. “Pot-roast sounds great, Hardy.”

April 11th, 1958

Madelyn hardly recognized the woman staring back at her in the reflection of her vanity mirror as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup, searching her drawers for the perfect red hue of lipstick. Her natural golden hair had been tucked back and hidden beneath a long, wavy dark brunette wig, the soft barrels falling over one shoulder and resting across the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Gown—she could hear Jenny correcting—Madelyn reminded herself she would need to be extra careful with the borrowed garment. It would not end up in the box of ruined clothes she had ripped or stained while running around the city investigating with the agency and Railroad.

Outside her bedroom, she could hear Dogmeat happily barking, Codsworth murmuring something while a third voice laughed along. Deacon—fresh from his trip to the nation’s capital, he had wasted no time in agreeing to an undercover operation and promised a show. She hadn’t seen him since he departed—communicating through dead drops to confirm their ‘assignment’—and could feel the anxiety bubbling to the surface over her conflicted feelings for him. But that night, more than ever, she would need to suppress her emotions for the sake of the investigation and stay focused.  

She slipped her feet into a pair of strappy black heels as she stood, reviewing her appearance in the full-length mirror. The strapless gown was black, with a sheen to it that sparkled under the right light. The fabric hugged her curves (and then some), loose around her legs with a slit along one slide that was almost too high for her tastes. It was unlike anything Madelyn had in her closet, and not something she would’ve expected her partner’s fiancé to own either, until it was offered as the perfect outfit for the evening’s festivities. The only problem was that she and Jenny weren’t exactly the same size—she stretched to reach the zipper again, struggling to get the right angle to make it budge.

“Miss Madelyn,” Codsworth buzzed outside in the hallway. “Mr. Deacon is inquiring about your presence. Is everything alright?”

With a defeated sigh, she opened her bedroom door for the robot, laughing at the way his mechanical eyes widened as he inspected her appearance. “Can you work a zipper?”

“Pardon, mum?”

She gave his metal chassis an affectionate pat as she walked past him, awkwardly holding the dress to her body as she walked the short distance to the main room of her apartment where Deacon was sitting at the kitchen counter, turned towards the hallway as if he had been waiting for her appearance. Or at least she thought it was Deacon—if it weren’t for his ever-present reflective shades, she wouldn’t have recognized him. The black pompadour (which High Rise had strongly hinted wasn’t natural to begin with) was gone, replaced with a short, wavy style instead, a warm ginger in color—it matched his eyebrows. He wore a different, well-tailored black suit than he had before, black wingtip shoes looking like he hadn’t been walked a step in. Handsome was an understatement—Madelyn wasn’t sure what to make of the not-so-subtle transformation—reminding herself to remain on task.

“Need some help there, Charmer?” he asked, breaking the silence. He gestured to her dress and beckoned for her to come closer.

Madelyn approached with a small nod, finding that her tongue felt too heavy in her mouth to speak. She turned her back to him, breathing in deep and straightening slightly when she felt his fingers brush across her skin for the zipper of the dress. What should’ve been a simple and quick movement had turned into another spark between the two, his touch lingering far longer than necessary, thumb sweeping across her spine. But she didn’t move away.

“You look downright sinful.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, hoping he couldn’t sense how nervous she was, how her skin had turned burning hot at his words. She focused on his hair, and curiosity got the better of her.

“Is that your natural hair?”

He smirked, one eyebrow arching up like he expected something a little more flirtatious from her. “Maybe.”

Madelyn twisted around to face him, resting one hand along the kitchen counter to balance herself. As Deacon pulled his hands back to himself, she noted the glimmer on his left hand and a new tightness formed in her chest at the sight of the golden band. Why was he wearing a wedding ring? At her confusion, he gestured to her own wedding band, causing her to clamp her right hand around the diamonds to hide the jewelry.

“I knew you weren’t going to take it off, even for the sake of an undercover persona,” he explained. “Figured we’d go for the easiest play in the book. Better to blend in than stand out.”

As uncomfortable as she suddenly felt, a new wave of emotions taking over her body and mind, Deacon was right. He was also far more of an expert at espionage than she was—he knew what he was doing, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she needed to trust him.

“We’ll need a good cover story,” she offered, nodding in agreement. Still, she anxiously twisted at the ring Nate had given her almost twelve years prior, burning against her skin. More than ever, she could feel the weight of his presence around her, the guilt compounding as she agreed to this charade—even for one night.

“What do you suggest?”

Madelyn deliberated, fidgeting with the slit of the dress before thinking of who had leant it to her in the first place. Her mother had always taught her that when in doubt, use what you know.

“I’m a nurse at Medford Memorial Hospital and you’re a retired army vet. We met when you ended up in my ward after a training exercise went wrong and I had to nurse you back to health. Sparks flew, our parents disagreed, and we had to elope. Thanksgiving weekend, 1954 in Manhattan.”

She thought about the rest of the specifics. “Catherine,” she said. Her mother’s name—not that Deacon needed to know that. “My name is Catherine. Kitty for short.”

Deacon looked stunned. “Did you just come up with all that right now?”

She softly chuckled. “Thank Nick and Jenny, give or take…the rest of the details.”  

“How romantic,” he mused. “I’d say you’re better at this than you think. A natural.”

He stood, signaling to the clock on the wall that they needed to catch a cab across town, or they would be more than fashionably late to the party. Feeling more confident than she had earlier, she smiled at him. “So husband, what should I call you?”

Deacon grinned as he laced their hands. “Dollface, you can call me Johnny.”

The Third Rail was classier than Madelyn expected for a speakeasy, built into one of the abandoned subway tunnels downtown. Even if Skinny Malone and his gang of Triggermen—as he dubbed them—were gangsters, she had to give it up to them for the ingenuity of the idea. There was a certain kind of ambience to the place—low lighting and dark linens spread across the tables—seedy characters lining the walls with leery expressions, it was enough to make anybody fearful. Yet Madelyn felt strangely at ease, and it had everything to do with the way Deacon’s hand was resting along her waist.

For an hour now, they had been seated at a candlelit table, chairs pushed close to ensure their cover as husband and wife remained intact. Despite her comfort, her mind had been running wild, filled with questions about Johnny. Was that supposed to be an allusion to John D.? As Madelyn took a sip from her glass of champagne, she took a side eyed glance at him, fixating on his hair. She wondered if this was his way of shedding his Railroad persona and if for a little while, he could be himself without anyone knowing. The mystery of not knowing frustrated her even more—this wasn’t exactly the place to confront him for the truth. Instead she continued to sip at her drink, allowing herself one brief moment to think about brushing her fingers through the ginger waves before looking away.

A gorgeous woman adorned in a sparkling red dress crooned a slow song about love from the lit stage, her small band of jazz musicians accompanying her like they had rehearsed the melody a hundred times. Skinny Malone had introduced her as Magnolia—a starlet in her own right among Boston nightclubs, there as a special treat for his beloved girlfriend on her birthday. So far the evening had been as calm as one could expect when in a room full of drunken mobsters, with no sign of anyone suspicious, even as she sighted a few men so green they had to belong to the Boston police force.

“Kitty darling,” Deacon leaned to murmur in her ear. “We’ve got eyes on us.”

She nonchalantly glanced to find a man at the bar taking too many looks at them over their shoulder. In spite of his disguise, his fidgeting and whiskey gave him away. Marty Bulfinch. With a small smile she shook her head. “That’s a friend.”

Deacon nodded, though his lips twisted into a thin line. “Looks familiar.”

“Hmm?” she was genuinely curious, wondering how their paths could’ve crossed.

He frowned, quickly dismissing the topic. “Not now. Later.”

Madelyn continued to survey the crowd as she drank her champagne, giggling on cue when Deacon would provide her with information from the conversations he was eavesdropping on, under the guise of saying something nonsensical into her ear.

“You didn’t happen to sneak a weapon past the guards, did you?” he asked, fingers tightening along her waist as he took a long sip of his brandy.

She brushed her foot against his ankle, catching his attention so he’d glance down to wear she was hiking up the slit of her skirt ever so slightly to reveal the holster attached to her garter belt—a trick Piper had taught her after watching too many detective movies. Madelyn didn’t realize how practical it would become, the .22 cold against her skin. Deacon made a low sound, somewhere between a hum and a growl and it caused a warmth to bloom in her chest.

“If all else fails, there’s the hairpin in my curls,” she added, adjusting her dress and flashing him a knowing look.

He held her gaze, the candlelight flickering in the reflection of his sunglasses. “We both know how deadly you are with that.”

As Magnolia dedicated the next song to Skinny Malone and his gal, Deacon shifted out his seat and extended his arm to her. “Come on Kitty Cat, let’s dance.”

Madelyn took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, her heart racing with excitement and skin tingling alive with goosebumps. Almost immediately she was transported to that first dance at the Memory Den—the electric feeling that had engulfed her body and soul. Maybe she should’ve known then that she would be enraptured by his enigmatic nature. It was inescapable, no matter how hard she tried to deny herself the truth. But what was the truth?

Deacon tugged her close as they swayed to the slow song, dipping his head so his lips were angled near her ear. “What do you think?”

She blinked, struggling to remind herself what he was referring to. Her eyes danced around their environment, looking from the pairs of dancing couples to the patrons that sat at the surrounding tables. As far as she could tell, the only people present were Skinny Malone’s Triggermen and the people Marty Bulfinch had brought from the precinct. If any of Eddie Winter’s men were in the building, they had yet to make themselves known. She didn’t want to assume they wouldn’t take the opportunity to strike, not when the iron was hot.

“Something isn’t right,” she muttered, unsure. Madelyn focused on the bar where Marty was sitting earlier, only to find he had disappeared. In an effort not to panic, she steadied her breathing, looking towards where Skinny Malone was standing, entertaining some guests near the stage. A waitress came by with a new round of drinks, just in time for the birthday toast.

Madelyn tried to lead him closer, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Easy now, kitten,” Deacon assured, the hand at her waist tightening a little. “We have an audience.”

She flicked her gaze over his shoulder to the two Triggermen on the edge of the dancefloor, muttering to themselves as they gestured to where they were dancing. With one steady breath, she slinked herself closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “We need a distraction.”

“I like the way you think.”

Madelyn looked up at him through her lashes, and felt his fingers trail up to her shoulder and then her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. Cupping the side of her face, she could feel the cool metal band of the wedding ring he wore, reminding her of the charade they were meant to be playing. He wasn’t Deacon, but Johnny—not her Railroad partner, but her husband. If she wanted to, she could kiss him, and blame it all on the undercover assignment. It didn’t matter what her real feelings were—she could face them later—or live in this fantasy and sin for as long as she wanted.

He noticed her hesitation. “I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”

She didn’t say anything, tilting her chin a fraction closer just as Magnolia finished her song. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the sound of clinging glasses and the echoing sounds of cheers! It faded away as Deacon’s lips ghosted over hers, and she didn’t even care if the Triggermen were watching. Madelyn fluttered her eyes closed and could feel herself drifting—

A loud crash resonated through the entire club and on impulse she pulled herself away, inhaling a sharp breath as she focused her vision. For the split second she settled on Deacon’s face it was difficult to discern his expression—was he disappointed? It quickly melted away as they both diverted their attention towards the stage where Skinny Malone had collapsed, the table knocked over and glasses shattered. Madelyn was disoriented as she rushed over through the crowd of people—there hadn’t been a gunshot—what had happened?

A stocky man in a well-made, pinstriped suit was inspecting the tray of drinks that had been discarded on the floor. “Boss’ been slipped sumthin’!”

Poison? Madelyn felt the dread settle in her chest—this was unlike Winter—he always liked to take a direct approach when killing off his competition. But she had no time to question his methods when as of late, his crimes had become unpredictable.

“Move away!” she yelled over the crowd of frantic Triggermen. “I’m a nurse, maybe I can help!”

In the chaos, nobody made to stop her as she knelt over Skinny Malone’s crumpled body, pressing her fingers to his throat to check for a pulse. Frosty white foam was sputtering from his mouth and his eyes were wide, bulging. His hands were scrambling at the carpet for purchase, but a moment later they switched to yank at his jacket and tie. It was all in vein as he lie there suffocating, choking on his own tongue—there wasn’t anything Madelyn could do, even if she was a real medical professional. She gave him a sympathetic look, before noticing the thick pocketbook in the seam of his blazer. Without a second thought she snatched it, tucking it as well as she could in the front of her dress.

Skinny Malone began to struggle, gripping the arm of his nearest Triggerman. Madelyn was swept up at that time, Deacon’s hands tight around her waist as he led her away as calmly as possible.

“Time to hit the road,” he said through gritted teeth, suppressing his distress that they would be stopped in the confusion as they made their exit.

As they left the Third Rail, Madelyn felt as though their undercover assignment was a failure. Eddie Winter had gotten what he wanted with Skinny Malone’s death and was one step further in his complete take over of Boston.

It was time to play their hand.

[ejzah]

Can you do a Drabble where Deeks goes undercover with female NCIS special agent sent from Washington. It turns out though Deeks actually knows the agent and they get very close, causing Kensi to get jealous.

A/N: This takes place during this current summer.

***

An Old Friend

“This is your first official undercover operation as an NCIS Investigator,” Kensi teased as they walked into the mission together. “We should have a celebration.”

Deeks grinned, shaking his head, but couldn’t deny that he liked when she used his full title. Hetty had informed them the day before he would be going undercover to infiltrate a high profile black market ring with Kensi in overwatch.

It was one of his first major undercover roles since going to FLETC and he was actually looking forward to it. Particularly since it wasn’t expected to be the most dangerous of missions.

“How many people would be in this celebration?” he asked with mock seriousness, hooking his arm around Kensi’s shoulders.

“Mm, it would be fairly intimate.”

“Ooh, well, you do know I like intimate...activities.” Lowering his voice, he dipped his head towards Kensi, pleased when he saw her face flush a little.

“Still the same old flirt I remember,” a voice interrupted as they turned into the bullpen. It sounded vaguely familiar, and he turned with a frown while Kensi looked over his shoulder. A woman with read hair leaned against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles.

“Delaney!” he said, smiling once he recognized her. She pushed off his desk and came forward to accept a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t Hetty tell you? We’re working this black market op together,” she explained.

“No, she didn’t. She just said we might be working with someone from Washington. I had no idea you’d moved on.”

“Well, you know me. I never like to get tied down in one place for too long.” She shrugged, squeezing his arms once before she let go. “It certainly is good to see you. I certainly never expected you to work with a federal agency. You always said you were a cop through and through.”

“Yeah, I said a lot of things back then,” Deeks allowed, glancing back at Kensi. He realized she was watching them with a curious expression. He gestured for her to join them.

“Sorry Kens, this is Agent Delaney Ozkowski,” he introduced her. “And this is my partner Agent Kensi Blye.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Kensi said, shaking Delaney’s hand with a genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” Delaney said, adding, “And it’s Agent Creamer these days.” She leaned towards Deeks. “Don’t ask.”

“It is good to see you again.” Although she had clearly changed from the 28 year old he’d met over a decade ago, he could still see sparks of the vivacious, irreverent young woman he remembered.

“So, how do you two now each other?” Kensi asked after a couple more minutes of chatting. Delaney glanced at Deeks with a little smirk.

“I met Marty when I was just staring out as an FBI agent. My team was called in to assist LAPD on a case and Marty was the lead Detective. It took us a few days to work things out, but eventually we made a good team.”

“Hey, that’s only because you called me a jerk,” Deeks protested.

“And that was because you kept raiding my snack stash,” Delaney countered, gesturing to him as she turned to Kensi. “Does he still do that?”

“Oh, he knows better,” Kensi said, knocking his shoulder.

“Well, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? I heard you went to FLETC and got some fancy new title.”

“Yeah, I’m an NCIS Investigator now,” Deeks said and then smiled as caught Kensi’s eyes. “And we got married a little over two years ago.”

Delaney’s eyes widened in surprise before she managed to replace it with a smile.

“Wow, I was not expecting that. So Marty Deeks, king of flirts actually is a married man?” she said, shaking her head again and leaned towards Kensi again. “You’ll have to let me know how you managed that.”

“Sure,” Kensi agreed, giving Deeks a look that said they would be having their own little talk later. “We’ll have a nice long talk all Deeks.”

“Looking forward to it.” Delaney glanced at her watch and winced. “Oh, time to meet with Hetty and the director.”

Deeks quickly kissed Kensi and hurried to catch up with Delaney.

***

“Oh my god, remember that one time when-” Kensi heard as she passed the bullpen where Deeks and Agent Creamer were working. Instead she headed for the gym, the sound of their voices slowly fading.

She felt a little childish, but she wasn’t sure she could take listening to another story. Even though Deeks had told her they only worked together for a few weeks, he and Delaney seemed to have a wealth of inside stories and jokes.

It made her feel...strange. Kensi was used to sharing that kind of closeness with Deeks. Sometimes Delaney reminded her a little bit of Talia. She was confident, outgoing, and gorgeous, but unlike Talia, wasn’t quite so competitive. Somehow that was made it even worse; Delaney didn’t even have to try and she seemed to have a close and easy connection with Deeks.

Despite her best efforts, Kensi found herself making comparisons. Delaney was open and easygoing. Where Kensi tended to shut people out, it seemed the other woman welcomed them in. She somehow seemed capable of shedding the burdens of their work at the end of the day while Kensi carried it with her.

Most importantly, she made Deeks laugh. Sure, Kensi made him smile and laugh, but not anywhere as often as Delaney did. That scared her most of all.

Shaking her head, Kensi grabbed a set of weights, prepared to drive the dark thoughts away with pain and exhaustion. Deeks found her there 20 minutes later, covered in sweat, and channeling all her anger into a punching bag.

“Hey Kens,” he said, handing her a towel. She took it from him, noticing his concerned look as she panted. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just thought I’d get in a quick workout while I was waiting for you guys to finish up,” she explained, turning to put away the equipment before Deeks could read her face. “Did you get anywhere?”

“I think so.” He seemed excited and Kensi felt a little bad for not sharing his enthusiasm. “Callen’s grabbing some lunch and then we’re going over the plan for today. Delaney has a pretty good idea to get us into the club.”

“Ok, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Kensi assured him. Deeks squeezed her shoulder, dropping a light kiss to her lips, and left. As he disappeared from view, Kensi tried to tell herself she had no reason to be jealous.

***

A/N: Ok, so my thought process here is that Kensi’s still feeling a little fragile from the last year or so of fertility treatments and whatnot which is making her feel more insecure about her “flaws”.

Thanks for the prompt!

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Lost Boy Chapter 11: Time

Summary: When his family moves from San Francisco to the town of Shadyside, T.J. thought his life would change. And it did. He just didn’t think it would come in the form of the ghost of a boy who haunted his new bedroom.

Prologue

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

@delicatesleeper,@ibroughtachallah,@frenchtohste​,@alittletooliteralleah​,@tyrusmagocious​,@tjskipping, @mirrorslover​, @opatrickr, @lesbianrelateddeath, @justkimberley​,@burning-hot-pan​,@green-lemonboys​,@anotherangelfromspace​,@thebisexualweirdo​,@likelightning-inabottle​,@thedampjofangirl​, @fizasdr​, @awkward-bisexual-alien​, @whipashwhipash​, @abg-blah​,@atthemomentimintothis​,@emberofthefrost​, @sana-drinks-isklar​, @tyrusisobviouslyendgame​, @delilahdee00​, @lazymarvelfan​, @glitch-ditch-canonbitch, @miracufan​

A/N: Honestly, this was such a hard chapter for me to write cause it’s so emotional, but I knew I had to keep going to finish it.

Again, thank you to everyone who read and supported this story. There’s still an Epilogue after this, but this is the final chapter of “Lost Boy” and I’m so happy to have it here.

...........

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of him. He couldn’t breathe. There was a strange ringing in his ears that refused to quiet down. Across from him, Buffy was still talking but her voice sounded distant, like an echo.

It was Andi’s piercing shriek that broke the barrier.

“They can’t do that! Cyrus is still alive! They just… They can’t!”

Beside T.J., Jonah had started shaking. “Why would they do that to Cyrus?” he asked, quietly.

Buffy shook her head, tears freely streaming down her face now. 

“They told me that it was time to let him go and…I don’t know. I ran off before they could tell me more. I just couldn’t… I had to… And then I texted you, guys. I… What are we going to do?”

“We can’t lose Cyrus!” Andi sniffed, also crying now. “We just can’t! Why isn’t he waking up?! He needs to wake up! We can’t…”

While all this happened, T.J. hadn’t moved an inch. Hadn’t said a word.

How could he when his world just fell apart?

He had promised to help Cyrus.

He swore to get him back to his body.

He had been confident that he could.

Yet, he failed.

He failed.

…….

Cyrus wasn’t home yet when he arrived. T.J. thanked whatever higher power was above for that because he needed a moment to himself. To think. And maybe cry. He couldn’t cry in front of the others. They might think it was strange that he was crying for someone he supposedly barely knew.

He avoided Amber, not in the mood to hear another one of her lectures or to be scrutinized under her hard gaze.

He buried himself under his blanket, pressing his face against his pillow. It didn’t take long for the hot tears to follow, dampening his pillow, but T.J. made no noise.

He rarely cried, he was too proud for that. But, in the rare moments that he did, he preferred to do it in hiding. And quietly.

He didn’t know how long he laid there crying, but the tears eventually stopped. Soon, he simply rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was in turmoil.

Should he tell Cyrus? Should he not tell Cyrus? What else could he do to prevent it? Who else could he turn to for help? Surely, he wasn’t the first person to see ghosts who wanted to bring a spirit back into a body, right? Wasn’t there a Facebook group for everything right now? Maybe he just hadn’t looked hard enough.

“Hi! I’m back!”

Slowly, T.J.’s head swiveled to the side to see Cyrus standing by his bed, grinning in content joy.

The ghost took one look at his face before his smile diminished into concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked.

For a beat, T.J. wondered if Cyrus knew. He was gone almost the whole day and he tended to visit his parents, who were often at the hospital with his body. Was he fully aware of what was going to happen and was just trying to protect T.J. from the knowledge?

Pushing himself up to sit, T.J. asked, “Where did you go today?”

Even though he looked surprised at the sudden question, Cyrus answered anyway.

 “I went for a walk, at the park. Then, I went to the hospital to see my folks.” He pursed his lips, as if recalling something that confused him. “They were a little glummer than usual.” He furrowed his brow at T.J. “Why do you ask?”

A lump had formed in his throat and T.J. painfully swallowed it.  

“Do you know?” he asked, softly.

Sitting on the bed, Cyrus continued to look confused. “Know what?”

If he knew, he would try to deflect. He would do everything he could to protect T.J. from the truth.  

“Cyrus… if you know… please tell me.”

“I… don’t know? What’s going on?”

But, there was one thing about Cyrus that T.J. knew – he couldn’t lie. He could hide the truth or bend it, but he couldn’t tell a full-on lie. He really had no clue what was going on. He had no clue that his parents had finally reached their limit.

“T.J., what’s wrong?”

The ghost placed a hand over his and T.J. wasted no time entwining their fingers, grasping the cold appendage, tightly.

“Cyrus…” His voice cracked and he had to clear his throat to make room for his voice to come out. “Your parents…”

He couldn’t look at the ghost, couldn’t meet his eyes and see them fall. But, Cyrus had to know. He had every right to know.

He swallowed again, bracing himself. 

“When I met up with Buffy and the others today, she said she went to see you this morning when she went with her dad to the hospital.”

His voice was soft, almost like a whisper. Cyrus had leaned closer to hear him.

“Your parents… they told her that they’re…” He forced himself to say the words, spitting them out like a flavorless gum he no longer wanted. “They’re taking you off life support.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears stinging at his eyes to not fall. Not in front of Cyrus. This one piece of vulnerability was not something he wanted to share with him. Not right then. He had to be strong.

“Oh.”

T.J.’s eyes flew open, his head swiveling to Cyrus who looked… calm?

The ghost didn’t look upset or shaken or any other negative emotion T.J. was feeling.

When he noticed T.J.’s gaze, he simply smiled. 

“It’s about time,” he continued.

“About… Cyrus, they’re taking you off life support!”

“It’s been more than a year. They should have done it a long time ago.”

“Cyrus!”

Was Cyrus legitimately trying to commit suicide now?! The first time was an accident but this?!

But the ghost was not bothered by his anger. Instead, he tightened his hold on T.J.’s hand.

“If I was really meant to come back, I would have, already. This is a sign, T.J. I’m not meant to be alive anymore. Maybe… this is what I need to move on. For my parents to let me go.” He bit his lip. “For all of you to let me go.”

T.J. shook his head in denial. “No. I can’t. No way. We are not letting you go.”

“What if… that’s what I want?”

T.J.’s breath caught in his throat.

“Would you deny me?”

T.J. let out a strangled sob but couldn’t find the words. He knew he was selfish.

Cyrus knew it, too. Yet, there was no resentment in his gaze. Only patience and a silent request for understanding.

To please understand that this was what he wanted.

His unfinished business.

Suddenly, he couldn’t be there anymore. It was getting harder to breathe and his head was all muddled. He needed to get out.

Standing up, he still couldn’t look at Cyrus as he headed towards his basketball in the corner. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm.

“I… need to be alone,” he murmured before speeding out of his room, leaving Cyrus behind.

He sent a quick text to his mom, telling her that he was going to the park and that he would be home by dinner. Then, he spent god knows how long shooting hoops at one of the basketball courts.

He was all alone and that was the way he preferred it. He didn’t think, just moved. He dribbled, ran, shot at the hoop – everything felt instinctive. It felt good. For the first time since he heard the news, his mind and heart felt less heavy.

He didn’t know how long he was there, shooting hoops. But, eventually, the exhaustion of the day’s emotions caught up with him and he fell back onto the court, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes. His basketball rolled a few feet away, stopping by the base of the hoop.

As he laid, he felt a presence arrive. The sudden cold made goosebumps appear on his skin but he continued to lay there, just waiting.

As his heartbeat slowed to a steady rhythm, the presence finally spoke.

“Are you mad at me?” asked Cyrus’ timid voice.

T.J.’s chest twitched. “No,” he replied, honestly.

“But… you’re not happy… with what I want.”

T.J. sighed, still keeping his eyes closed. “You know why.”

A beat of silence passed.

“I like you, T.J.”

Finally, T.J. opened his eyes, Cyrus’ forlorn face greeting him. 

“I like you, too,” he replied. “That’s why this is hard for me. For everyone.”

Cyrus nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not just upset because of my feelings, you know. You’re my friend as much as Buffy and Andi and Jonah and Marty and everyone else are. I… I can’t lose a friend. You’re important to me. To all of us.”

Cyrus nodded. 

“I know,” he said again before lying down on the court next to T.J. “But…that’s all the more reason why this needs to happen. I’ve been tethered to this earth for so long even though I no longer belong in it. Why do you think ghosts seek you out, T.J.? They want you to help them so they can stop watching the world go by without them. Because as much fun as it is watching everyone else go on about their lives, it’s also painful. Lonely.”

T.J. turned his head to look at him. Cyrus was looking up at the sky, his expression solemn yet peaceful. The late afternoon sun bounced off his face, making him look whiter and paler than he probably actually was if he had a solid body. Reminding T.J. that he was a ghost.

“You have me,” said the blonde, his voice strained.

A faint smile appeared on Cyrus’ face. “I know. But, you’ll age. You’ll grow into an adult, move out of that house, and even if you stay in Shadyside, you’ll still live a different life than you are now. And I can’t follow you for the rest of your life, T.J. You know that.”

It felt like a hand had its grasp around T.J.’s heart because it hurt. The truth hurts.

Cyrus continued, “I know my parents will do everything for me, including selling all their possessions to keep my body alive, but I don’t want them to do that. I want them to move on and continue living their lives the way they’re supposed to.” Finally, he turned his head to look at T.J. “I want that for you and Andi and Buffy and Jonah and everyone else.”

A tear slid down T.J.’s cheek. He didn’t even realize he had started to cry.

Cyrus reached out and linked their fingers together. “And I want you to meet someone you like and who likes you back just as much. I want you to be happy. And, you know, deep in your heart, that that person can’t be me. Not like this.”

T.J. closed his eyes, feeling more tears fall. “I wanted it to be you.” He opened his eyes, meeting Cyrus’ affectionate gaze. “I wish I moved to Shadyside earlier. I wish I met you sooner. I wish things were different.”

Cyrus squeezed his hand. “Me too.” He wriggled closer, wrapping an arm around T.J.’s waist while still keeping a tight hold on his hand. “I want that more than anything.”

But, they couldn’t have it.

……….

The weeks passed by in a blur.

It was like a gray cloud now hung over their heads, and not just T.J.’s either. 

Although they tried to act normal, Buffy, Andi, and even Jonah (who was always so perpetually happy about everything) moved about in a daze.  T.J. could barely look them in the eye at school. Conversations were not as bright or as lively as they used to be before Buffy told them the news.

Marty, Libby, and Walker were told and despite their own longer acquaintanceship with Cyrus, they didn’t share a deep bond with him in the same way Andi, Buffy, and Jonah did. Nevertheless, they tried to bring back a sense of normalcy to their group but it was difficult.

Meanwhile, T.J. knew he had to hide his own solemn feelings because his friends didn’t know of his own friendship with Cyrus. He couldn’t tell them. After all, they knew Cyrus longer, loved him deeper, and had a bond with him that T.J. could never hope to match up. Yet, he shared their sadness and pain – they mistook it for him commiserating with them, which they appreciated.

And Cyrus…

Cyrus stayed the same, if not a little more affectionate. He was still the first face T.J. often woke up to, who wished him a good day at school and welcomed him home. Cyrus still helped him study and with his homework when he was struggling. He cuddled up to T.J. whenever they watched a movie and cracked more corny jokes that T.J. always smiled at.

Cyrus was trying to make things be as normal as possible.

“I like you,” T.J. would often say to him, randomly.

He didn’t know where the sudden bursts of confidence came from but it only felt right to remind Cyrus that his feelings hadn’t changed despite their current circumstances.

And the ghost would beam, affectionately, and respond with, “Yeah? I like you, too.”

For a while, that was enough.

T.J. kept telling himself that it was enough.

No one knew when the Goodmans were planning to do it. Well, more like no one had the guts to visit the hospital to ask them. T.J. thought about volunteering himself several times (it should be easy, right? He had done stuff like this loads of times and more back in San Francisco). But, as soon as he thought of it, his chest would ache and he would lose his nerve.

In the end, it was Andi’s mom who found out for them.

Andi solemnly arrived at the cafeteria where they were having breakfast and said, in the softest voice they had ever heard her use, “They’re doing it two weeks from Friday.”

Everyone froze, looking at her like she just told them the world was ending today. Perhaps, it was because, for them, Cyrus was part of their world. And in two weeks, he would no longer have a physical body to give them hope that he would return.

Two weeks.

They only had two weeks.

And when he told Cyrus… the ghost took it well.

Of course, he did.

“We have to make the next two weeks the best time then!” he piped.

T.J. had to force a smile but, nonetheless, brought the shorter boy closer into a tight hug and didn’t let go for a long time.

…….

Two weeks passed by in a blink of an eye.

One day, T.J. was joking with Cyrus while on the swings during one of his morning runs and they were happy and laughing, watching little Victoria play her game from the corner of their eyes.

The next, he was solemnly nodding at Andi’s plan to go to the hospital to see the Goodmans after school on the Friday they were to… pull the plug.

Cyrus had seen him off to school with a much tighter hug than usual, knowing that T.J. needed it (he almost didn’t want to let go).

He could barely concentrate that day in class (which was kind of bad because he had an English quiz). For the first time, he willed the school day to go slower, not wanting it to end.

More time.

Just a little more time.

By the time he managed to get back into his head, he was sitting in the back seat of Andi’s mom’s minivan, being driven to Shadyside Memorial Hospital. It was a quiet ride. No one spoke or bothered to turn on the radio. 

When they arrived, T.J. numbly followed his friends to the elevator up to the 4th floor, down the hall of rooms, and reaching the familiar door.

They were silently allowed in by Sharon, Cyrus’ stepmother.

The room was fuller than it usually was.

During their past visits, it was always two parents max, watching over Cyrus. Now, all four of them were there. The room wasn’t tiny by any means but with four adults and four teenagers standing by the bed with Cyrus’ pale form, it felt like they were all squished together. The atmosphere, itself, was heavy and solemn, like they were already grieving.

Everyone knew what was going to happen. And T.J. hated it.

On the bed, Cyrus lay, immobile. Everyone silently stared at him, as if they were all waiting for him to move. To open his eyes and smile at them. To give them more time with him.

Cyrus, please, T.J. begged in his mind. Please wake up.

But Cyrus didn’t move. Not a muscle.

A sob reached his ears and it took him a second to realize that it came from Buffy. She and Andi had moved to Cyrus’ side while Jonah was on the other, standing with Norman, Cyrus’ father.

T.J. chose to remain by the door.

“Cyrus, now would be a good time to wake up,” Andi pleaded, taking the boy’s hand and holding it. The bracelet she had made him months prior was still wrapped around his wrist. “Please... Please…”

Please, T.J. echoed in his mind.

Cyrus continued to sleep, unmoving.

An hour passed. Then two.

Sometimes, it was quiet. Sometimes, someone spoke – either sharing a fond memory or another plead for Cyrus to wake up that went unheeded.

T.J. willed time to stop, praying for a being out there to listen to him and answer his deepest prayers.

But, when Leslie stood up, they knew they had run out of time.

That this was truly the last time.

One by one, they hugged Cyrus’ parents. The adults wished them all well, thanking them for everything and the gratitude was returned, likewise.

“T.J.? You coming, dude?”

Jonah’s voice broke through his thoughts.

It was only then that he realized that he hadn’t moved at all. He was still standing by the door, staring at the occupied bed, and he hadn’t said a single word to anyone since they arrived.

He forced his voice out but it still cracked as he stated, “Give me a minute.”

He didn’t look to see how they reacted as he walked up to Leslie.

“Mrs. Goodman,” he croaked. “I… I’m sorry…”

I’m sorry for not fulfilling my promise to Cyrus. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

The woman smiled, softly, at him. “Thank you.”

T.J. swallowed. “I… I mean… Andi and Buffy and Jonah… They don’t want to lose Cyrus like this. Do… Do you have to… I… I’m sorry… It’s just…”

“We know,” she replied, her eyes (so very much like Cyrus) shining with tears she didn’t want to shed yet. “Cyrus… he’s a special boy. I know every parent would say that about their child but he truly was.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “As a child of divorce, we thought this whole arrangement would damage him. But, he took it all in stride and he remained a kind and good son to all of us. And as his mother…”

Here, she drifted off, suddenly trembling. Her husband, Todd, stood up from where he was sitting on the couch and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It seemed to give her strength as she continued.

“As his mother, I don’t want to let him go. But, I love him and he’s been suffering. So, even if it pains me, I have to. It’s… it’s time for us let him go.”

T.J.’s eyes stung but he held back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

He couldn’t find any other words.

………

When T.J. arrived home from the hospital, he couldn’t take the final steps to open his door and enter his room. He couldn’t face Cyrus, knowing that this time, the boy’s death was final.

What was going to happen to him? To them?

A shuffling down the hall let him know that his mom was in her room and she would probably come out at some point and ask him why he was standing outside his room instead of going in.

Swallowing, he bravely placed his hand on the knob and turned it. The door swung open and he forced his legs to step inside. The first thing that caught his eye was Cyrus’ pale figure standing by the window, looking out into the backyard.

He spun around as T.J. entered the room and closed the door.

He beamed. 

“Your mom’s doing a really good job with Sharon’s flowers,” he stated, casually. “I was a bit worried the new owner wouldn’t take care of them the way she did.”

T.J. shrugged as he gently tossed his backpack to the side. “Mom’s always wanted a garden.”

Still smiling, Cyrus pulled away from the window and approached him. Wordlessly, he took T.J.’s hands in his, squeezing gently. He looked at T.J.’s face, his eyes moving about like he was silently mapping it in his mind. And T.J. couldn’t help but do the same.

He took in the fluffy brown hair that he loved running his hands through. The brown doe eyes that always sparkled with joy and a sweet kind of innocence. The cute button nose that scrunched up when confused and flared when annoyed. The pink full lips that would sometimes distract T.J. whenever Cyrus talked on and on about one thing or another.

He relished the feel of the gentle hands holding his, despite their coldness. He always wondered how what they felt like when warm with life. He would never know. 

Yet, he wouldn’t change it for anything, if Cyrus would just stay.

T.J. wanted to get to know him more. He wanted to show more of himself to him as the years went by. He wanted to go through every life change and accomplishment with Cyrus cheering him on and him cheering for Cyrus. He wanted him to know everything.

Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, T.J. barely got the words out.

“Thelonious… Jagger…”

Cyrus blinked, confused.

T.J.’s lips twitched into a small smile. “My name. My real name.”

“You told me your name,” Cyrus beamed, delighted.

“I wanted you to know,” T.J. replied and found that he meant it. “My parents named me after their favorite artists. My grandparents thought it was ridiculous, though.”

“It’s not.” Cyrus linked their hands together. “It’s unique. Like you. I love it.”

T.J.’s chest tightened. Of course, Cyrus would love it. He was amazing like that. He never failed to make T.J. feel like he was important and that nothing was wrong with him – not his dyscalculia, not his ability to see ghosts, and not even his name. And the best part was that he was always sincere.

“Did you know… that you’re the most amazing ghost I’ve ever come across in my entire life?” he managed. “I don’t think any other ghost will come close to you. You’re the best ghost in the world.”

Cyrus’ cheeks darkened but he looked pleased, nonetheless. “Well, you made ghost life a lot less boring and lonely than it was before you moved into my house. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

T.J. blinked his tears away. “I wanted to save you… I’ve helped many ghosts with their unfinished business and move on. But you… I wanted to save you and bring you back… But, I failed.”

“You did your best. But, there are things in life that we have no control over, especially death. We can’t control that. But, T.J., you still have an amazing gift. Seeing ghosts and helping them… that’s a part of you and you should be proud. You helped many ghosts. You helped me. And I know you’ll continue to help because you have a good heart, a kind heart. And that’s… that’s what I love about you.”

Love.

T.J.’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Sure, he didn’t know if Cyrus meant love as in love or love as in LOVE but, nonetheless, it made him happy. It was the first spark of happiness he felt all day and he wanted it to stay.

In front of him, Cyrus continued to hold his hand and gazed at him with deep affection.

“For the first time since I accepted that I was dead… I wanted to come back. I wanted to be alive again so I can get to know you and spend more time with you and just… live a life with you in it.” Cyrus’ eyes shimmered with tears he couldn’t physically shed. “I want to live.”

T.J.’s heart slowly fell apart. He wanted that, too. He wanted it so much. He did everything he could to make it happen but nothing worked. 

Why wouldn’t the universe just give Cyrus back to them? To him?

“T.J… Something’s happening…”

The cold touch in his was slowly disappearing. In fact, the weight of Cyrus’ hand felt lighter.

He looked down at their entwined hands and he felt his heart stop.

Cyrus’ hand looked translucent.

And it was slowly getting more and more see-through.

He looked up to see the same thing happening to Cyrus’ distressed face.

“C-Cyrus…” T.J. choked out, his chest tightening with pain. “No… no, no, no, this shouldn’t be happening…”

“T.J….”

“No! I can’t lose you!”

Cyrus flashed him a strained and sad smile. “It’s time... You have to let me go.”

A choked sob escaped T.J.’s throat. “I can’t…”

He pulled Cyrus towards him, wrapping him in his arms in a tight hug, never wanting to let go. He could already feel his form slipping. There was no solidness, no weight - he was like a cup slowly being drained of water.

“It will be okay. I promise.” Cyrus’ voice was soothing but it was starting to sound distant.

Gently, he began to pull away from T.J. but didn’t step away. Instead, he cupped T.J.’s face with both hands, gazing at him. Memorizing him.

“You made the last year of my time here one of the best and I would never forget it. But, now, you have to promise me that you’ll move on. Promise me that you’ll live your life to the fullest?”

T.J. couldn’t help the sniffle that accompanied the tear that fell from his eye as his chest continued to squeeze everything out of him. 

“What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know. But, I’m not scared. I’m happy. You made me happy.” 

Cyrus was still smiling.

“You, too. You made me happy, too.”

Blue eyes met brown ones.

“Promise me? That you’ll be happy? Because you deserve it.”

“I’ll try.”

“T.J....”

He sighed. “So annoying,” he blurted out without any malice, doing his best to hide his pain as he nodded. “I promise.”

Cyrus, not taking any offense to his jibe, smiled before leaning in. T.J. felt him kiss the spot near his lips, the touch light and feathery, but it left tingles across his skin and made the butterflies flutter in his stomach. 

Before he could return the gesture, Cyrus’ hands slipped from his – they were fully transparent now.

In fact, all of him was transparent.

The butterflies disappeared in a puff of smoke made of dread. T.J. felt the panic grip him, not ready yet to let him go. He tried to grasp at the boy but his hands only met air.

“Thank you, T.J.”

“Cyrus…”

With one last peaceful smile filled with so much affection and adoration, Cyrus faded away.

And T.J. was all alone.

……..

A week passed.

Then, two.

It felt like a dream, actually.

T.J. still woke up, went to school, went to basketball practice, went home, did homework, watched a movie or played video games, and went to bed.

But, it all just felt mechanical. Routine. Autopilot. He knew what he was supposed to do. And his body and brain did the work for him.

But, his heart… it felt like it had died.

His friends acted the same. They didn’t talk about it much.

Andi always looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears and often kept her hands occupied with a bracelet or two. Buffy was holding it together pretty well, but only just so, and even Marty couldn’t coax a banter out of her. And Jonah was quiet, his perpetual smile absent from his lips.

Before Cyrus, T.J. never really got what people meant when they say your world loses its color when you lose someone. Now, he finally understood.  

They waited for the Goodmans to call them and let them know about funeral arrangements. But, the days passed and not a word from them.

Buffy stopped by their place one day to ask for the information in person but no one had been home.

T.J. wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or bad thing that they couldn’t even see Cyrus off. He knew the Jewish funeral rites were different. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to because he wasn’t Jewish? He hadn’t really tried to find out.

He was too gloomy to really do much of anything else.

He thought he hid it pretty well, but he should have known better. From the moment he met Cyrus, all of his walls had come down. And, now, they were down for all to see.

He was at home, one Saturday morning, just lying on his bed and boredly playing a piano game on his phone when a knock broke him out of his absentminded thoughts. He paused his game and looked up to see his mom coming in.

“Hi, honey.” She walked over to him as he sat up. She settled on the bed and flashed him a worried look. “Are you feeling okay?”

T.J. shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well… I noticed the last few days you’ve been kind of quiet… a little sad… and, plus, your sister has been pacing outside your door for the past ten minutes so I know she’s worried about something related to you.” She placed a hand on his leg. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, mom.”

He allowed himself a brief moment of being a child again and leaned forward to wrap his arms around his mother. He wanted to tell her so badly. About Cyrus. About his abilities. About everything.

But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t brave enough.

Someday, he would. But, right now, all he wanted was her hug.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“When Grandma died, was I sad?”

“Hmm? Don’t you remember?”

“Just a little. But, it’s kind of a blur.”

She pulled away from him and smoothed out his hair. “You were very upset. You kept asking for her. And it was so hard to explain because you were so young.”

“But… eventually… I moved on… Right?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. We all did. It wasn’t easy. But, we did.” She flashed him a questioning look now. “What brought this on?”

T.J. shook his head. “I was just thinking about her, that’s all.”

His mother didn’t believe him, he knew that she didn’t. She could read him well. Nonetheless, she nodded and patted his leg before getting to her feet.

“Want me to send your sister in?”

He released a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Might as well get what she wants to say over with.”

She nodded.

Amber was, predictably, waiting by the door, wringing her hands in worry. Their mother patted her arm and nodded, letting her know that it was okay, before walking off.

Amber hesitated by the door before squaring her shoulders and walking in.

“Move.”

She pushed him to the side of his own bed before plopping down and stretching out, crossing her legs at the knees.

For a moment, they were both silent.

T.J. couldn’t bear to pick up his phone and play his game again. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his desk. It disturbingly lacked the presence of someone sitting on it.

Some days, he could still see Cyrus perched on it, swinging his legs as his arms flailed around while he told a story.

“Andi told me everything,” Amber casually stated. “I’m sorry.”

T.J. shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I know you don’t like him. Didn’t think you would care.”

“You care about him. That’s enough for me to at least know what’s been going on with you.”

T.J. had no answer to that. Just like him, Amber was as stubborn as they come.

“How are you?” she asked, gently this time.

T.J. shrugged.

“There’s no funeral?”

“We think the Goodmans might have left town.” T.J. let out a sigh. “Or they’re avoiding us. I don’t know. But, they didn’t even let us say a final goodbye to Cyrus. At least I got to see him before… but, Andi and the others…”

Amber hummed. “That is a little weird. Maybe they want it to be a family thing?”

“Andi, Buffy, and Jonah are practically family to Cyrus. I don’t get why even they weren’t told.” T.J. sighed again. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s…”

He couldn’t get the rest of the words out, reminded by the pain in his chest, a whole that seemed to not grow any bigger yet not getting smaller either.

Suddenly, Amber slid off the bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

He blinked, owlishly, at her in question.

“It’s stuffy in here,” she continued. “Let’s go somewhere. The park? You can play basketball and I’ll cheer you on.”

Sounds tempting but T.J. wasn’t up for basketball (a shocker, yeah). So, he just shook his head.

Amber pursed her lips, not giving up. “Well, where do you want to go? I’ll let you decide.”

If he was honest, T.J. didn’t really feel like going anywhere. He would rather stay home, locked in his room. Maybe a small part of him continued to hope that Cyrus’ parents changed their minds and the ghost would appear in his bedroom again.

But, many days had passed and no hide nor shimmer of the boy appeared.

He was gone.

Cyrus was gone.

“T.J.?”

He looked up at his sister. “Let’s go to the park. I want to go on the swings.”

…….

The creaking of the swing’s chain was loud in his ears as the wind ruffled through his hair. The sky was blue and clear that day. From a distance, he could hear the sounds of children playing and having the time of their lives.

“Do you remember when dad left?” Amber’s voice broke out among the throng of noise.

T.J. didn’t stop kicking his legs, going higher and higher. “Not really.”

He was only 4 back then and Amber was 5. He knew what his dad looked like from the photos but other than that, he didn’t really have a clear memory of the man.

“And you have no idea how happy I am that you don’t because I do.”

Unlike T.J., Amber’s swinging was gentle, barely even moving. She simply watched him.

“I remember it clearly. How he walked out the door and out of our lives. For months, I kept asking mom when he was coming back and she never gave me a clear answer. I cried a lot, asking for him and hoping he’d come back. But, he never did. And, eventually, I moved on. And so will you, T.J.”

T.J. dug his feet onto the ground, stopping his movement. He knew she wasn’t talking about their dad.

“I don’t want to forget him,” he said, softly.

“And you don’t have to. The difference between Dad and Cyrus? You had happy memories with Cyrus. And you have those to hold on to while you’re moving on.”

T.J. took a deep breath. 

“It’s hard,” he confessed. “I feel like… we missed out on so much. And of all people, he deserves to live. He had a whole life ahead of him, Ambs. He had a great family and friends who care about him… he should be alive.”

“I know, T.J.” She reached out to put a hand over his. “But, he would want you to move on.”

If it was anyone else, T.J. knew that was something that people only said to make the person mourning feel better. But, in his case, he knew it was something Cyrus wanted. He told him, himself, after all.

“You have to promise me that you’ll move on. Promise me that you’ll live your life to the fullest?... Promise me? That you’ll be happy? Because you deserve it.”

“Yeah… you’re right,” was all T.J. could say. “I just… don’t know if I can… right now.”

“Grieving takes time.” Amber patted his hand before pulling back. “So take your time.”

T.J. raised his head and trailed his gaze onto little Victoria. She was still running around her favorite tree, running from an invisible foe before giggling and doing it all over again.

Noticing his gaze, Amber asked in a soft voice, “Is there one here?”

Instead of the usual pit of dread he would feel when dealing with a ghost, T.J. found himself smiling.

“Yeah. A little girl. Her name is Victoria.”

“Aaaand that’s my cue to leave.” The chains clanged as Amber got to her feet. “You know how I am with ghosts of little girls.”

“Ambs?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I’ll be okay soon. I promise.”

His sister’s face softened and she reached out to ruffle his hair again before she bid him goodbye and walked away.

T.J. kept swinging but, this time, he kept his gaze on the empty swing next to him.

Then, he closed his eyes.

In his mind’s eye, he could see Cyrus’ smile and hear his tinkling laugh as he swung with T.J. They would banter and tease each other, maybe flirt a little. T.J. would make him blush and Cyrus would pretend it didn’t affect him a single bit. They would laugh together and hold hands, their fingers fitting like a puzzle piece. They would be so happy.

T.J. opened his eyes, allowing a tear to fall from his eye before hurriedly wiping it away.

It would take a little work, a lot of time, and some patience. Soon, he would move on. Soon, he would wake up without wishing he could go back under the covers. Soon, the colors will be a little brighter again. Maybe he would meet someone new along the way, someone who made him feel the same way Cyrus did…or maybe he won’t.

But, the one thing he would never do is forget.

He would never forget the movie nights, their trips to the park, the light-hearted conversations and the deep ones, their confessions, the shy smiles, the hand holding – everything.

He would never forget the bright-eyed ghost boy who entered his life and changed the way he saw everything around him, including himself.

But, he had to live.

Just like he promised Cyrus.

He would live his life to the fullest.

He would find happiness again.

Victoria’s giggle pulled him from his thoughts.

Something stirred inside him as he watched her play.

Taking out his phone from his pocket, he put his headphones on and plugged it in. Then, he left the swings and walked over to the tree.

The little girl didn’t pay him any mind.

He cleared his throat.

“Hi, Victoria.”

The girl immediately froze, midway around the tree. She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

He had never spoken to her prior that day, it was always Cyrus who greeted her whenever they were at the park together.

She clutched at the front of her dress, hesitating, before shyly smiling and saying, “Hello.”

He returned the smile and settled himself on the ground, back against the tree.

“Do you want to tell me your story?” he asked her.

Victoria blinked, not quite comprehending what he was asking her.

Nonetheless, she sat beside him, delicately crossing her legs and covering them with her long skirt.

“I like playing here,” she started, beaming. “I used to play tag with my friends here. Or hide and seek. I love hide and seek!”

T.J. felt himself smile and listened to her story. 

He was going to take it one step at a time. 

[fredheads]

WIP Wednesday

“Can I ask you some things about Thea Jones?” Alice asks, her eyes still trained on the man’s leather jacket. Freddie’s head flashes up from her plate at the name, and the expression that crosses her face is as guilty as Alice has ever seen her. Shit, Alice thinks too late. Maybe this was bad timing, given exactly what Marty had said to make Freddie throw a desk at his face, but Alice had a deadline to meet. And if Freddie wasn’t going to voluntarily confide in her best friend the way she used to, Alice would make her. “What about her?” Freddie asks, in what’s probably a laughably poor attempt at sounding casual. Her emotions are written all over her wide brown eyes as she blushes to the roots of her hair. Freddie has a lot of talents, but lying isn’t one of them. She’s just inadvertently given Alice everything she needs to know. Alice takes a suck of her milkshake. “I’m supposed to be writing an article about her,” she says carefully. “Where she grew up, her hobbies. That kind of thing.” “Oh.” Freddie relaxes so visibly that it’s almost funny. “Sure you can. But I might not be the best person to ask.” Alice shrugs. “Seems like you’re the only person in this school whose head she hasn’t bit off.” “She bit my head off,” Freddie protests. “She called me a Barbie.” “Bitch.” Alice denounces automatically, pulling a face. “She’s not.” Freddie rushes in with the defense before Alice can get another word out. “She just wants to play football, and you know how nice people are about that. She just wants to have friends, and everyone acts like a jerk to her, but she’s really cool and I - uh- I don’t - really know her that well,” she finishes in a mumble, casting her eyes down to the table as she fidgets with the hair tie on her wrist. Then her eyes dart guiltily back up to Alice as though sensing that she’s caught in a lie. Had the circumstances been less somber, Alice would have laughed at Freddie’s clumsy attempt at being casual. Instead, her heart aches for her. Alice knows well enough what it’s like to love the wrong person at the wrong time. But she can’t shake the feeling that this crush is bad news. “What do her parents do?” Alice asks, deliberately casual. Freddie nibbles on her milkshake straw, avoiding her eyes. “I dunno. She doesn’t talk about her home life much. I got the feeling I shouldn’t push it.” Freddie shrugs. “But that’s nothing new. It’s not like any of us love going home at night.” Alice nods, noting the bitterness in Freddie’s voice. It’s not an admission, but Freddie’s speaking as though Alice is free to assume she knows more about Thea Jones than she’s letting on. Still, Alice can’t resist reaching out and gently touching Freddie’s knee under the table. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Freddie looks up at her, her eyes wide and sad and hopeful. Alice watches with dismay as a tear runs down the side of her face. “I know,” she mumbles, “I, um-” She opens her mouth like she’s going to speak, but then closes it again and looks down at her plate. “Freddie,” Alice tries again, in her gentlest voice. Patience has never been her strong suit, but the truth feels so close at hand that it would be stupid not to voice her assumption. "You know I'm only here to support you, right? No matter what?" "Yeah." “Are you and Thea more than friends?” Freddie’s voice is barely there as she nods. “Yeah.” Alice lunges forward and squeezes her hand, desperate to get that look of doubt out of her best friend’s eyes. “Freddie, hey, there is nothing in the whole entire world that would make me love you any less than I do. And you know I think that I - I’m bisexual too. It’s okay.” Freddie shakes her head, turning her eyes away and wiping her face. “It’s different. You have Hal.” “How does Hal make it different? That’s bullshit.” “Because you have Hal and you’ll always have Hal and that’ll be fine but -” Freddie looks back up at Alice all wide eyes and honest face - “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love her in my entire life.”

[glenncoco4]

Raising the Bar (Ch.1)

A/N: This is gonna be a collaboration with @mashmaiden, @wanna-be-bold, @psyched1328 and @detective-and-agent-deeks. Hope you guys like what we've got for ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kensi turns around as the door to the bar opens, her face lighting up when she sees who it is. “Hey, babe. How’d court go?”

Deeks relaxes at the sight of his wife. It’s been a stressful couple of hours and nothing makes him feel better more than her. “Well, I prevented my egghead of a friend from going to jail for assault with a deadly weapon.”

“Deadly weapon? I thought he broke his jaw with his fist?”

“Under California state law a fist can be considered as a deadly weapon if bodily injury occurs.”

“That’s a felony. How’d you mange to get him out of doing jail time?”

“Don’t you remember, baby?”

The brunette’s brow furrows in confusion. His thought train has clearly left the station and she’s not on it.

“You married an exceptionally good lawyer.”

She may look annoyed on the outside but her heart is fluttering on the inside. Her man is sexy period but when he’s confident his sexy factor goes up by like a billion. “How could I ever forget when you remind me every chance you get?”

Deeks takes a step towards her and places kiss to her lips. “Skills like this need to be flaunted, Fern.”

The older blonde finally makes her presences known and steps out of the office, shaking her head at her favorite couple’s antics. “Alright you two. Marty just tell her how you got him off, we’ve already had a day.”

“No luck then, huh?”

Kensi takes a deep breath as she relives the events of the past two hours. “Well there was the guy that asked if he could bring his pet monkey into work with him or there was the 68 year old woman that had to walk with a cane. Now tell me what happened with Kip.”

His tactic of changing the subject clearly not working. “Fine. He’s going to pay all of the guy’s medical bills, 500 hours of community service and he’s going to be moving into the apartment upstairs and going to be working in the kitchen to keep him out of trouble.”

“How is him living above the bar where drunk people are coming in and out going to help him?”

“That’s were you come in, Mama.”

A mischievous grin spreads to Roberta’s lips when she realizes where her son is going. “Oh, I love scaring that boy to death.”

Deeks nods in appreciation after all he knows first hand how his mama can be when a trouble maker is around. “And that’s exactly what you’ll be doing anytime he starts getting out of line.”

“What about when I’m not here?”

The door opens again the normal line of words begin to come out of Kensi’s mouth until she turns to see who it is. “Sorry, we’re-“

“There’s my favorite cousin and cousin-in-law.”

Kensi and Deeks share a look of confusion and then turn back to their unexpected customer. “Teresa, what are you doing here?”

The brunette walks up to the bar, her heels clacking against the hard wood floor as she goes. Her thick Italian accent so clearly recognizable. “I heard ya lookin for a managa.”

“But you live in Brooklyn.” Deeks shakes his head still confused at what’s happening.

“Yeah, I have so many frequent flya miles and so much time on my hands that I thought a 7 hour commute to work everyday is just what I needed.”

Deeks raises his hands in surrender. If anything he knows not to mess with a Blye woman, especially those that are brunette.

Teresa takes a deep breath, okay so she maybe a little on edge with the whole starting in a new city and all. “I need a fresh start, okay?”

Kensi turns to Mama B and shrugs. The two Deeks women walk over to a table and gesture for the brunette to join them.

As she sits down Kensi pulls out her phone at the sound of a text. After reading it, she turns to her husband with a smile. “Babe, can you go out and get the twins, Matt said he doesn’t want to get out because Sofia fell asleep.”

Deeks nods and begins walking towards the door.

“First off I need to ask, is drinking on the job allowed?”

“One a shift.”

The Italian nods in acceptance. “One bottle of whiskey, I can work with that.”

Kensi shakes her head, how did she know this was going to be a disaster. “Thank you for coming in but-“

“Relax KiKi, I’m just messing with ya.” Teresa playfully swats her her cousin’s arm showing her that she really was playing around.

Deeks shakes his head as he loosens his tie and steps out into the California sun. If his wife and mom do decide to hire Teresa it’ll be more of a comedy club than a bar that’s for sure.

XXXX

After a successful interview the ladies decide that the brunette would be a great asset to The Squid & Dagger and she had a lot of experience, more than any other candidate, that’s for sure. “Teresa I feel like I can trust you with this and you’re a hard ass so that will help too.”

“I’m listening.”

“My friend Kip-”

The new manager swat her hand in the air like the information isn’t new to her. “Oh, yeah, Kensi and ya mom already informed me of that little predicament and rest assured I will put that pretty boy in his place if he gets outta line.”

“He can be a real sweet talker when he wants to be.”

“I can be a real sweet talker too with my friends Donna and Nikki.” Teresa holds up each of her fists as she says the names. “We can take him out back and do a little talking if it comes to it.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

“Just don’t get arrested I don’t need anyone else I know going to court for assault.”

The brunette shakes her head disapprovingly at the fact that someone would get in a fight and not have anyone to back them up. “Please, I would never get caught.”

“Okay, that’s not reassuring at all.”

Kensi walks up to her husband, wrapping her arm around his waist she pulls herself into his side. “Relax, baby, I told her she can’t fight anyone unless they provoke her.”

“Who is Teresa fighting? Can I hold your hoops?” The little boy runs out of the office excitedly, his eyes lighting up with glee.

Both Kensi and Deeks’ mouths drop open as unsuspecting words flow out of their six year old’s mouth. “Tyler, has Grandma Bertie been letting you and your sister watch Real Housewives of New Jersey again?”

The shaggy red-haired six year old shakes his head. “Uh-uh. Jersey Shore.”

Mia walks in behind her brother and climbs up on a stool with a questioning look on her face as she stares at both of her parents. “Mommy, daddy, what’s a guido?”

“Mama, how many times have I told you that you can’t fall asleep while the tv’s on.” The shaggy blonde says looking across the room at his mother.

Roberta cringes when her secret is let out and sees the mirroring looks that she’s getting from her son and daughter-in-law. “I’m sorry, I guess I had a little too much wine with dinner and fell asleep on the couch after putting them to bed. I woke up with them sitting there watching it.”

“Mama B, maybe we need to put a lock on some channels.”

“Sweetie, I can barely turn on my tv and record something much less put a lock on a channel.“

Mia’s eyes light up as she spins around on the stool to look at her grandma. “We can show you, Grandma Bertie.”

The sudden foot step startle them seeing as though none of them are walking. Teresa turns and catches a glimpse of someone behind Kensi and Deeks making everyone else follow her line of sight.

The short white haired man takes off his sunglasses, wondering why everyone’s attention is suddenly on him. “Well, shit….what are ya’ll doin?”