#How dare you ruin his morning gay coffee

[zappedbyzabka]

[lorifragolina]

More than Roommates...?

Another entry for @harringrovesummerbingo!

It's a silly rom com and I tried to keep it short :) I hope you enjoy it!

Title: More than Roommates...?

Square & Prompt: C1 "Laughter"

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2501

Major Tags: Friendly schemes, Enemies to Lovers

Summary:

Steve and Billy are roommates, but they didn't start with the right foot... even if they became attracted to each other pretty soon. But both of them think that the other didn't swing the same way... Two smart friends and a good scheme are needed for making them move... or not?

Read it on AO3

“Robin, he’s not gay, it’s as plain as day”.

“I never see him with a girl”.

“It’s because he’s not… I mean, he doesn’t… he just goes casual”.

“Well you can just ask and remove any doubt”.

“Are you nuts? He’s my roommate, I can’t go and ask something like this”.

Robin snorted and shrugged. It was the third or fourth time they had a similar discussion, in a corner of the cafeteria in front of their morning coffees. Usually, Steve had some wet dream about his roommate and went to venting with her. 

“Well I’ll ask him then,” she said stubbornly, frankly fed up with the hesitation of her best friend.

“Don’t you dare! Do you have an idea of how much it has cost me to find that room? I can’t ruin things with him”.

“I know, Steve, do you forget we moved here together?”

“Yes but you are a brainiac and you have your room granted in the residence”.

Robin snorted again soundly. It hadn't been so easy as Steve was painting it,  for her, but she could understand his doubts. 

Moreover, Steve and his roommate had a rough start and now, almost at the end of their freshman year, things were smoother and it was better trying not to ruin them.

“So, did you have some action lately?”

Heather adjusted the camera and went nearer to the screen, smiling slyly.

Billy sighed. “Nothing at all… dead calm”, he moaned, shaking his head.

“Don’t tell me you're still after him,” she raised her eyes. “Why don’t you make a move yet?”

“Sweet Jesus, he’s not gay!” shrieked Billy, regretting immediately for raising his voice, even if he was in his room alone. “He’s not gay, I already told you”.

“You can’t say. Do you know how many people swing in both ways?”

“He’s not”.

“Did he ever bring a girl into his room?”

“Well Robin is always here, but…”

“But they’re having sex? No, they don’t, so?”

“Well, maybe they…”

“Why don’t you ask him out? What could happen? At least you’ll stop bothering me with that nonsense”.

Billy knew that Heather loved him madly and he didn’t take her words badly, but she didn’t live there and she had no real idea of the situation.

It was him who had to live with Steve, and he didn’t want to ruin the delicate situation they created lately.

They had bitter arguments at the start of the year;  Billy liked to blast his metal out loud and having large Skype call in the common space until late, while Steve loved cheesy pop music and he wanted to sleep in the middle of the night; Billy liked to exercise and go to the gym and take care of his appearance, occupying the bathroom for hours. Steve was equally vain, but ha was not a morning person, so he passed half of his mornings knocking frantically at the bathroom door, and when he was able to going in, he didn’t mind to use Billy’s hair and body product, driving him mad when he smelled the scent of his special hair mousse on Steve’s hair. 

One time Steve had run out of the bathroom yelling like mad because he found Billy’s body hair in his razor, starting an argument that lasted almost two weeks. As if that were not enough, they had argued also in class, bickering about some unimportant detail in the textbook and their feud had been the goss of the week. 

They kept being on each other's way in college orientation events and in the basketball matches, but after a really tense few months, they reasoned out as adults, then they apologized and the cohabitation had started to go better. 

The problem was, for Billy, that all the confront and bickering had made him fixating in Steve’s body language, his moves and gestures and to walk in the room when he was agitated, how he passed his hands in his hair or put his hand on his hips, and specially in how the little mole at the side of his mouth moved when he was arguing, distracting Billy and driving Steve really mad; he didn’t know that in those moment when Billy forgot how to blink, he was thinking of kissing that little mole and all the other moles in his face and licking his neck and biting him and…

“Billy? Are you here?” Steve knocked at the door before entering.

Billy was still on his Skype call.

“I have to go, Heater, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said in a rush, closing the laptop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you”.

“Don’t worry, I have already finished the call”.

“Ok… something important?”

“Oh no… family thing, you know, nothing important…”

Steve nodded, taking a glass of water and drinking near the sink with his hand on his hips, pensive. Billy had to gulp his agitation and smiled tensely.

“I was thinking to have a shower, do you want to use the bathroom?” He asked kindly, one of the things he learned to do to maintain their good relationship.

“Oh, no thanks, go ahead,” Steve smiled tensely too, washing a couple of dishes still in the sink since the morning. 

He was almost sure that he heard a feminine voice, he knew that Billy had a sister but it didn’t seem to him the same voice; Billy always closed his calls when he came in the room, because he didn’t want to argue anymore about bothering calls, but Steve suspected he called always the same girl, probably his distant girlfriend and for this he never bring any woman at home. Steve didn’t dare ask to maintain the balance between them and the peace they gained so difficulty.

He suffered for not knowing, anyway… he didn’t define himself as gay, he liked girls, but he also liked men very much, and Billy in particular was his type almost exactly, although they started hating each other; but he liked ripped, neat men, well trimmed, with an angelic nuisance and a nasty attitude; and Billy, with his Californian Barbie complexion, was almost near to perfection, making him struggle to stay formal near to him. Even if Billy still hadn’t picked up any girl at college, he had a crowd of female admirers and he seemed to enjoy it, so Steve knew he couldn’t have a possibility. Moreover, if he would come out with Billy, he could feel uncomfortable; he didn’t seem homophobe, but not everyone wanted to sleep with a non straight roommate. 

“Oh, shit,” groaned Steve, raising his eyes to the cafeteria door. 

“Oh, shit,” echoed Robin, for completely different reasons. 

Billy had just entered with a stunning brunette hanging at his arm, a beaming smile and gushing with happiness.

The girl was short but curvy, with pink hearted glasses and red lips, and a pair of mini shorts that showed her nicely shaped legs; the perfect Barbie complement for Billy, sighed Steve seeing his hopes shattered in the floor. 

Robin couldn’t also take her eyes off of the girl, definitely her type, even if she seemed she couldn't take her eyes off of Billy.

“Hey,” Billy waved at Steve, who he felt he wanted to die. He smiled and waved back. 

“Hello, I didn’t know you were here either… Heather just arrived by train to visit me”.

“Hello,” said the girl, lowering the glasses and raising her hand directly to Robin. “I’m Heather”.

“I’m Robin,” she answered, breathless. They looked at each other for a long, long moment, until Billy dared to speak again.

“And he’s Steve, my roommate”.

Heather smiled again, giving him her hand too. “Oh. I heard a lot about you”.

Steve blushed and Billy nudged her. “Stop it,” he hissed, then went to the bar to order the coffee.

“So, you’re studying here too?” Heather asked directly to Robin, who blushed, leaving Steve wide mouthed and speechless. They talked a little bit, ignoring Steve completely until Billy returned with the drinks. Robin got up to go to class reluctantly.

“Well I’m staying all weekend, I hope you can join us for dinner tonight,” Heather chirped with a soundly voice, and Robin nodded and went away, giggling. 

“So you’re the famous Steve,” she immediately turned to him, resting her face on her hand. “I thought you were taller”.

“Heather!” Hissed Billy.

Steve cleared his throat. “Will you… will you stay in our room?” His voice was oddly high pitched.

“Oh no, I booked a B&B here near the campus. I don’t want to bother you two big guys,” she giggled and they both blushed furiously. 

“But I hope you don’t mind if she stays a little in the room…” said Billy carefully. 

“Oh no, not at all”.

Heather smiled and they finished their drink, then she and Billy went away to visit the campus, leaving Steve sitting there, heartbroken.

“I don’t want to go to dinner with the lovebirds!” Said Steve later, outside Robin dorm. Robin pouted and looked at him with flames in her eyes. 

“Are you stupid?” She hissed. “I’ll go even if you don’t come”.

“If you like to be the third wheel…”

“God, you’re really stupid!” Robin crossed her arms and refused to talk again with him. 

When she reached them at the restaurant, Steve looked at her, really puzzled. He never saw her so dressed up before. She barely used makeup and combed her hair with a bobby pin to avoid hair in the eyes, but that night she was wearing a fancy jacket and pants and she curled her hair and painted her eyes and lips; she was really pretty, and when he looked the glance Heather gave to her, he finally understood why she called him stupid lately. 

Billy and Steve witnessed their shameless flirtation with wide eyes, unable to say anything and looking furtively at each other, utterly embarrassed. Steve was glad she definitely wasn’t his distant girlfriend, and Billy was glad that Robin was the platonic girlfriend of Steve, but they didn’t know how to break the ice to each other and bring the topic on the table. They kept talking about trivial things, some sport results and TV shows while their friends were talking intensely and ignoring them.

Steve and Billy didn’t notice that they exchanged each other's numbers, but when they left the restaurant, Heather announced that she wanted to go resting after the trip, but she would be free the rest of the weekend to do something fun with them.

Billy walked her to her hotel and Steve and Robin went away in the opposite direction.

“What the fuck was that?” Snapped Steve once they were a little far.

“What?”

“All that thing, you were… flirting with her? You had just met her!”

Robin shrugged, looking at her mobile that had just buzzed. 

“Well she’s not his girlfriend. And he clearly hasn’t problems with queer people”.

Steve sighed. Well, there was a difference between having a lesbian friend and sleeping in the same room with someone who wanted to be in your pants.

“You couldn’t stay quiet, not for a little minute, could you?” Hissed Billy walking with her.

“You didn’t tell me she was gorgeous and lesbian, Billy. Is your gaydar broken?”

“I don’t… hey I don’t need to justify with you! I… I just didn’t realize”.

“Well it’s the perfect excuse to make a move with him, don’t you think? And you didn’t tell me he had that juicy ass, you little scoundrel”.

“Oh, please, stop! It’s a coincidence his friend is a lesbian. It doesn’t mean anything”

“Oh, it doesn't mean anything, Mr queer like a three dollar bill?”

“Stop this nonsense, I can do nothing with him. He’s straight and we are roommates, that’s all”.

Heather groaned and entered the hotel. She wrote to Robin immediately, chatting with her all night. 

“Is there some club to go dancing near there?” Asked Heather the next night, peeping a glimpse at Robin. 

“Well the Pink Flag is over there and they have good cocktails,” answered Robin immediately, waving at the end of the street. “You don’t have problems going to a queer bar, right, Steve?”

Steve blushed and nodded, of course he didn’t have problems, they went there very often, but he looked at Billy’s face, who blushed, lowered his face and nodded too. The girls joined the queue hand in hand and abandoned them behind. 

Billy tried to smile, worried, and saw the same expression on Steve's face. “Well at least they’re having a good time,” he sighed, while the girls were already chatting with the bouncer, who knew Robin, and obviously Steve. He accurately avoided confessing to Billy that he was a regular there, but he couldn't hide it for longer.

“Hey Steve, it’s been ages, I missed you! Oh, he is the guy Robin just told me about?”

“Hello… hello Alan…” answered nervously Steve, looking at his feet and running inside before the bouncer could say more embarrassing things. 

Robin and Heather were still inside, giggling at the dirty look he launched at them.

“How you dared!” He hissed to Robin. 

“Well you needed a nudge,” she giggled, disappearing on the dance floor with Heather.

Billy was looking at him, confused. “I’m not sure what had just happened outside… Do you come here often?”

Steve blushed. “Well, me and Robin, we… well, you know…”

“And what he said? You… talked about… me… with Robin?”

Steve gulped, looking away, feeling the tense in Billy’s words. 

“She thinks… well, she thinks I have… she thinks I have a little crush on you, that’s all. But don’t worry, I am not…”

“Oh shit,” Billy hit his forehead. “Don’t you see?” Steve looked at him, puzzled. “Don’t you see? They set a trap! It’s so clear!”

“A trap? But why? You don’t… don’t you…?”

Billy snickered, a little embarrassed too. “Well, well it’s possible that I… I mentioned to Heather that… I may like my roommate just a little bit”.

“Those filthy little bitches!” Snapped Steve, and Billy laughed, heartily, defusing the tension between them. Steve joined his laughter, looking in his eyes and staring at his swollen, juicy lips.

“I… I never heard you laughing…” he said, touching Billy’s arm with bashfulness. “I like it,” he smiled then, and Billy melted, looking at him with glossy, puppy eyes. 

He cupped Steve’s face and pecked him, kissing his smile, then Steve pecked him back, and they finally kissed, finally biting each other's lips, with a stupid happy look on their faces. 

“So what will we do now?” Whispered Billy, taking Steve’s hand. Steve looked at him with a mischievous smile. 

“Well, my roommate is cool, you can come in my room later,” he grinned, and Billy laughed again. “But meanwhile, those little schemers don’t deserve satisfaction”.

Billy nodded. “Agree. Let’s make them suffer a little more. But first, kiss me again”.

Steve laughed, and threw his arms around him, bursting in happiness.

[hel-phoenyx]

Domhildr belongs to @soupedepates, Oli to @thal-ent and Meili to @azeler, Kaizarz (mentioned) belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

Okay.

Maybe almost fainting in front of Domhildr as she was getting out of her shift was a bad idea.

For my defense, I didn't expect my body to react so strongly to just the amount of energy needed for digestion. Like I know I haven't slept in a week, but still, feeeling that dizzy right after eating ? Did I really not take care of my body properly ?

Point is she didn't let that slide. Like, at all. As soon as I was on the ground she called Meili. She never calls Meili, usually. And then while waiting on him she warned Oli she wouldn't be back tonight, for what ? I asled myself in the middle of my dizziness.

The result is we're currently at my home. It's morning after. And I've never heard that much noise in my kitchen before, even when Kaizarz was there and hellbent on finding my sugar and sweets stash to make us hot chocolates.

When I woke up, it was noon. I am so late on the thesis. Yet, I can't get out of bed. Why ? Because Meili is right next to me looking at me with those military officer eyes. The kind that say "obey orders or I'll kill you".

Not gonna lie, I've never done well with orders. I wanna get up and come back to my desk just to see how he will react. But my body isn't answering to me anymore. I can't even lift my head.

Meili squints seeing me awake.

"Don't you dare move."

I smile. Gods, the amount of energy needed is astounding. What the fuck is this sudden weakness ?!

"Or what... you're gonna pin me to bed ? Go ahead... I'm still stronger that you..."

"Clearly not in that state, and don't make me tie you up to the bedframe."

"Didn't know you were into that..."

His grimace is awful. I probably should have closed my big ass mouth. Why is it than when I'm tired I don't have any filter anymore. I almost told Kaizarz I loved him last time, goddamnit !

Anyway, I better shut up before I say something I regret. Meili looks pissed enough.

"Don't you dare start that gay shit with me, Tyr. You're fucking exhausted, you need to rest. Domhildr is whipping something in the kitchen for you, and Oli is trying to choose a movie we would all like."

"Damn... Since how much time are they trying ?"

"Three hours. We almost reached a consensus, so be a dear and don't ruin this for us."

When do I ever. But I'm too tired for this. And if I move a muscle, Meili is getting out the whip, anyway, I see in in his eyes. You can take a man out of army, but never army out of man...

Bed is too comfortable anyway, and my limbs too heavy. I wouldn't be able to move even if I really, really wanted to.

The second reason is that I won't have time. Domhildr just stormed in the room, a tray covered in food in hand. She made hamburgers with double steak and eggs, and fries on the side. Mine is covered in curry sauce, my favorite.

"Still think you're an heretic for what you made me do to those poor hamburgers, she shouts while putting the tray on my nightstand. But you needed meat, and red, bloody one."

"How I like it, huh..."

"Yeah, you fucking cannibal. How you like it, just for you. I'm letting you wake up while Oli chooses the movie, but after that, you're eating, and you're not moving out of bed for the day even if I have to climb you."

I smile again.

"This is the second weirdly erotic threat I've gotten today. You know you can tell me if you guys have an orgy planned later, I won't mind..."

"Oh, shut up, you bonehead, don't you dare joke in that state. Do you know how much I was worried about you ?"

Oh. She looks genuinely upset. Did I say something bad ? Did I do something bad, maybe ? I don't know. I just feel bad, all of a sudden.

".... Sorry."

"You better be. Hiding how little you sleep, how much coffee you drink, and when I go in your room I find a whole stash of beers clearly not here for partying ? What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Tyr ?!"

She's teary-eyed now. Oh. Did my current physical state affected them that much ?

"Sorry, really. I didn't want to worry you."

"Then start by not doing worrying things ! I thought I had to call Kaizarz to bring you to the hospital, AGAIN !"

Well. I guess that's why she's upset. Last time they had to do that, last time Kaizarz had to bring me to the hospital, it was the time of the accident. I still remember his eyes full of tears when i woke up from coma, his attempt to make me promise I won't ever put myself in danger like that, ever again.

I guess some things never change.

I lift my hand. Pinches her cheek. Shit, she's crying now. What did I do ? Why can't I do things rights ?

"I'm fine, Domhildr. Just lacking sleep. I promise."

"None of us believe you, Tyr, and that's coming from me."

That was Oli. They finally entered the room, with a movie case in hand, while Meili turns on the television on the wall. She doesn't look as angry as Domhildr does, or as judgemental as Meili's, but her eyes are full of worry, and unexplainable sadness.

Weirdly, those are the ones that hurt me the most.

".... I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. Please. Just recover."

He sighs. Sits down next to me, gives the case to Meili.

"A Ghibli, is that okay with you ? We settled on Spirited Away."

"Fine by me. Sorry for making you worry."

They take my face between their hands, look at me long and hard.

"Tyr. We are your friends. Of course we will worry."

"Now just eat, and don't mind if I eat burgers in your bed, says Domhildr while climbing next to me. I really don't wanna make you move or be away from you for the next ten hours. And I don't have a shift today so I'm ready to be there a long time."

Oli takes my other side, and Meili brings closer my desk chair to sit next to us. All of us now have plates on their lap, and the heat of their bodies is relaxing my muscles.

I didn't want to worry them. They shouldn't have to worry about me.

But I can still enjoy this, right ?

[all-this-panic-still-no-disco]

I heard that you were putting out a new thomastair fic. Do you mind telling me what's it about?

ok lets go lets fuckin do this. bear with me here because it’s complicated as fuck.

so, we begin with alastair carstairs on a bright afternoon. he’s angry. cranky. just lost a case and is pissed at a client. about to smash his coffee mug. (alastair is a barrister, which is just fancy british for lawyer.) so, faced with the possibility of smashing his coffee mug or doing something about his Rage™️, he calls thomas and says, ‘can you get over here and fuck me, please’

spoiler alert! thomas and alastair have been hooking up for eight fucking years after accidentally ending up at the same uni.

thomas comes over, they fuck, it’s very cute and very sexy, but thomas has to leave the next morning as he has a class to teach. (he’s a professor of classics at london college university)

alastair goes back to work, stress and anger freshly fucked out of him, and takes up another case. a young uni student just inherited a fuck-ton of money from his grandfather is having his inheritance sued over the fact that his grandfather was unaware that his grandson was gay and if he did know, he wouldn’t have left him so much money. total bullshit, but the family is rich and they have some serious pull.

so alastair says fuck this, let’s get you your inheritance. he works his fucking ass off and halfway through the case’s first day in court, the prosecution brings up alastair’s ‘impartiality’ on the issue of him having a sexual relationship with another man.

surprise surprise! the daily mail just published an article on alastair’s ‘scandal’ of daring to take a case where a young gay man is targeted for being gay. the case is pretty high profile because of the family’s status. (alastair is also a fucking good lawyer.) pictures are included in the article of him and thomas kissing and getting pretty close to fucking in alastair’s living room. they’re both covered enough in the photos, but they’re a horrible violation of privacy and the whole thing is super shitty.

alastair freaks the fuck out and the trial is adjourned, and he runs home to find thomas in his apartment waiting for him, because years ago alastair gave him a key. (they’re totally just hooking up guys)

alastair’s ‘scandal’ soon becomes vaguely trending. all of their friends find out and it’s fucking chaos. alastair is trying his very best not to loose it but he’s not doing very well.

the worst part isn’t the homophobia of it all or the horrific mess of his private acts being posted online, it’s that his career is pretty much ruined. despite having done nothing wrong, even the slightest rumor of a barrister being not 100% bad rep free means he won’t get hired, or at the very least not as much. people don’t want a scandal-associated lawyer because it might sway the jury against their favor. why contract alastair when there’s plenty of other sex-scandal free options?

so alastair’s freaking out about his job when thomas presents this wonderful idea: fake date.

(i fucking know, right?)

it’s actually pretty smart. fake dating will turn the narrative around; suddenly alastair isn’t the barrister who had some torrid affair, he’s a man who’s private life has been grossly invaded, which is the truth. if they give the story the gloss of a committed relationship and hearts and rainbows, alastair won’t be painted as some overly sexual gay man stereotype. he’ll just be a man in love.

they both acknowledge how shitty it is that they have to do this, but agree. they’ll fake date until the trial ends, which alastair will probably win now that the prosecution has been exposed as cheating, homophobic fucks, and everything will be solved. thomas will also stay at alastair’s apartment through this time for totally ridiculous reasons that aren’t true and it’s just because they want to be near one another.

there’s only one problem.

alastair has been in love with thomas for years and despite knowing his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, (he’s a fucking idiot and thinks thomas’s feelings are a surface level crush and a side effect from fucking), he refuses to do anything about it. he doesn’t think he’s good enough for thomas and doesn’t want to wreck thomas’s life by dating him for real. (yes, he’s being self-sacrificially stupid but this is alastair, guys, what did you expect.)

to make matters worse, thomas, idiot and piner extraordinaire, has been fully in love with alastair since he was eighteen. he kept hooking up with alastair all this time because it was the only way he could be near him.

so we have alastair, in love with thomas but pretending he’s just interested in him for sex, and thomas, who’s fully fucking in love and really bad at hiding it. these two idiots are now fake dating and lying to all their family and friends for the sake of alastair’s career.

bomb, meet lighter. things are about to go boom. i swear, this fic has everything i could cram into it.

angst: angsted.

pining: cranked to eleven.

domestic fluff: sweeter then marshmallows.

sex: hot and dirty as fuck.

welcome to my fucking disaster golden egg.

so far, it has over eighty thousand words and it’s not even fucking done yet.

also, i lowkey think it’s the best thing i’ve ever written and i’m hella excited to share it with you guys. i’m gonna stop typing now bc my thumbs hurt and kudos to you if you read this far. 😚 my current plan is to post the first chapter sometime around august, so get ready!

lots of love,

liza💖

[theramenbandit]

20 and 59 for the mashup au prompts. Any pairing that strikes your fancy :)

From this post here 

Describe how I’ll combine them: Co-teachers to lovers via secret admirer shenanigans.

“And don’t forget, project drafts are due next Thursday.”

So far, so good, Lena thinks as she gathers up her belongings and heads out the door of her first class of the day. She likes it here in Midvale. It’s a lot slower, a lot quieter, a lot--

Force, mass, velocity, something bumps into her hard.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry. Here…” 

The woman who apparently was the thing that bumped into her bends down and picks her things up off the floor. 

Lena is, of course, properly miffed and halfway to a firm scolding until the woman straightens up again and Lena forgets how talking works for a moment.

Her hair is flowing in golden locks and the bluest eyes she had ever seen are looking at her from behind dark-rimmed glasses.

“Wait, you’re the new girl, right? Lena from Metropolis?” 

“Yes,” Lena clears her throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Sorry about that,” the woman says nervously. “Let me make it up to you. Lunch in the hall at lunchtime?”

Lena should say no. She’s not here to make friends. But the blonde is cute and her shoulders are...nice. So…

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

The blonde gives her a thumbs up and turns to leave, but quickly turns around and jogs back to where Lena is standing mutely. 

“It’s Kara, by the way.” She extends a hand towards Lena in introduction. “Kara Danvers. I teach English.”

Ao3

Kara Danvers takes it upon herself to be Lena from Metropolis’ first ever official work friend.

-

Lena loses a fight with the coffee maker. She’d been having a bad day already, see. Her mother had called this morning, so naturally, by the time the damn machine stopped working, she was on the brink of tears. 

“Hey there, is everything alright?” Kara asks cautiously as she walks into the break area. 

“Everything is fucking dandy, thanks.” Lena growls, angrily swiping a hand at her eyes.

“Whoa, okay… You know, Noonan’s is right over there and your next class isn’t til 3, we could--”

“How did you know that?”

Kara casually points to the schedule on the board behind her.

Lena only growls again.

“Okay, you’re really wound up. Come on, a walk could do you some good.”

Kara learns that Lena is here as a middle school science teacher because she wants to prove something to her mother. And the pressure is getting to her.

“Sometimes you don't have to do amazing, just have to do your best.” Kara says reasonably. “Look, you're great and your students love you. So don't worry about what your mother says. Judge your work by the proper standard or... something.”

Lena chuckles at that. Kara was probably right. 

"Thank you. I… I really needed that." 

Kara nods sagely and continues to sip at her iced coffee. "What are friends for?" 

-

The note is simple and plain and handwritten and she has absolutely no idea what it means. Or who it’s from, for that matter.

It’s, well... It’s notes. The note contains notes. That much she can suppose from the five lines and the G-clef and the black dots staring back at her. She looks around for anyone who might have left it there by accident, but she’s alone in the faculty room. What’s more, the note is wedged between the pages of her lesson plan for today, the only thing currently lying on her desk. Frowning, she looks back down at the small piece of paper and shoves it into one of her drawers. She’ll decide what to do with it later.

-

The note notes are piling up now and she thinks this might be something worth investigating. She'd gotten three more over the last week, each with the same handwriting and the same paper, but the notes on the staff (she does know some things) seemed to be different every time. She lines them up in order of the dates she got them and squints intensely at them, daring the offending dots to tell her what the hell is going on. 

-

Kara's eyes widen in horror when she walks into the faculty room and sees Lena glaring at the notes. 

Her notes. 

She quickly makes to get out again but Lena's already seen her. 

"Kara, hey!" 

Shit. 

"Hi, what's up?" the blonde responds, her voice suddenly pitchy. 

"Can you help me figure this out?" She scoots over as Kara leans into her space and over her desk. 

"Oh, they're notes," Kara tries nonchalantly. 

"I can see that," Lena deadpans. "Notes to what?" 

"Ehm, well this is a G, and this is a D… That's an E minor… It's a song."

Lena fights the urge to dramatically roll her eyes. "Do you know what song it is?" 

Dammit, this is wonderful. 

"It could be any song, Lena." 

She's still trying to dodge it but Lena is adamant. And Kara doesn't want to lie, but she doesn't want to be found out, either. 

"Uh... I could play it and maybe we can figure it out?" 

"Okay, let's try that." 

-

The music room is empty, much to Kara's eternal chagrin, so she and Lena walk up to the piano and she starts to play the notes that Lena holds up in front of her. 

"It's Elvis," Kara says simply. 

Lena soon recognizes the tune and starts to hum along with the keys. Just then, Kara slowly looks up from her seat and is mesmerized by the sight: the light is hitting Lena's face just so, illuminating the lines of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the dark red of her hair. She wishes she could stay in this moment forever. And if Lena were paying attention, she would notice that Kara wasn't even looking at the notes anymore. She was playing by heart. 

"Oh, that's sweet," Lena whispers when the tune is done. "And you never told me you could play." 

"My dad taught me the basics. The rest I figured out myself," Kara says quietly. 

"Aren't you full of surprises?" 

-

"It might be Mike, you know, that guy from the marching band? He is objectively good looking." 

"He chews with his mouth open." 

"Ooh, could it be Jack from phys ed?" He walks around with a guitar most Fridays." 

"Lena, Jack is so gay for the bar owner and you know it." 

"Well, who could it be?" 

Me, Kara wants to say. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to make things weird. 

They're sitting on the bleachers during the afternoon break, Lena leaning into her side munching on the donuts Kara had gotten for them. It wasn't hard for them to fall into this sort of easy companionship. Kara was open and friendly, and Lena, once her walls had gone down, was sharp and fascinating. And Kara fears that the feelings she's developed might ruin whatever this was that they had. So instead of being honest with herself, she just shrugs and bites sullenly into her own donut. 

"It could be anyone." 

-

People are starting to notice how often they are together, start talking about how cute they look next to each other. And so people waste no time in throwing them into each other's paths, especially since prom is three days away. 

-

“Come ON, Lena!” Kara yells as she grabs Lena’s hand and drags her to the dance floor. Lena tries her best until she isn’t so much trying as she is struggling to keep up with Kara, who seems to have only got more hyper as the night wore on. But the joy on her face is infectious, and honestly, if she got to see this every day, Lena wouldn’t mind.

The song ends and the band’s vocalist approaches the mic.

"Hey, hey, everybody, y’all having a good time?” 

The crowd whoops in affirmation. 

“Alright! Well I think it’s about the proper hour, so we’re gonna slow things down a bit starting with a classic.” 

The opening strains of a piano-driven ballad fill the air, and Kara politely extends a hand towards Lena.

Lena accepts.

Wise men say only fools rush in / But I can’t help falling in love with you

The world around them dissolves as they sway together, Kara’s hand gentle against the small of Lena’s back, Lena’s arm reaching up behind Kara’s shoulder. 

“It’s Elvis,” Kara whispers against her hair.

“It was you,” Lena chuckles in response.

“You knew?” Kara says as she draws back to look at her.

“No. But I was kinda hoping.” She smiles warmly and Kara has never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

“You’re not mad?”

“Darling, why would I be mad?” Lena lifts her hand to brush it across Kara’s cheek. “You had me at Oh Shoot."

Kara laughs as she ducks her head in embarrassment and Lena cannot help but join her. 

"I'd really like to kiss you right now."

"Please do."

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Sincerely, Always Yours

Chapter 12

Chapter 11

“It is me?” Jens looks at him sitting there, with his nails on his mouth, his knees shaking, eyes getting teary while still trying to breath normally and crack a smile. 

They have been there for half an hour now, Robbe taking his time to speak, already managed to blurt out that he’s gay, that he’s in love, that he’s going insane.

Robbe texted Jens the first thing in the morning, it’s not like he could fall asleep the whole night, his mind going crazy, running and never stopping, he probably fell asleep when the first lair of sunlight shone though his window but woke up quickly after that.

Jens didn’t answer him, it was too early but Robbe didn’t care, he called and called until the boy woke up and cursed him from waking him up at the 7 am in the morning but when he heard Robbe’s broken and shaky voice, he was wide awake, already up, ready to be on his friend’s side immediately.

So they met up. And Robbe finally confessed his biggest secret and he was quite surprised at how easy Jens took it, glancing at Robbe’s face with almost “that’s what you were worried about?” look.

But no, that wasn’t the whole thing.

Robbe said he was in love and he was in pain so there they were, at the cafe, with Robbe’s untouched and Jens’s almost empty cups of coffee in front of them, on the table, both of them waiting for Robbe to speak up.

This was it.

“No.” He gulped.

Jens raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to tell me who it is then?”

Robbe wanted to, he couldn’t handle this anymore, he needed somebody to know, he has been torturing alone for so long already, he wanted out, so he nodded his head, getting ready to spill his name but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Come on buddy, I don’t have all day.” Jens joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“It’s - “ Robbe started but couldn’t finish, he put his head down which made Jens groan.

“Just say it.” It’s not that Jens was getting impatient, he was just tired, sleepy and just wanted his friend to stop torturing himself.

“I destroyed everything - I “ Robbe’s heart started beating so fast, his breath shallow, he was sure he needed to take some light medication to calm his pulse after this by the way he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“We’re gonna talk about that later, just tell me who it is.” Jens’s hopeful and calm face managed to make Robbe relax a bit so he nodded his head again, took a big breath and mumbled the name.

“It’s Sander.”

And Jens eyes went wide. He was expecting anybody but him.

“S-sander? What? Oh god.” Robbe couldn’t explain what Jens was feeling or thinking by the look on his face, but before the boy had any time to process what Robbe said, he started.

“Jens, I - I ruined everything. He - he hates me now - I - I tried to stay away - I really did but it was hard and - he - he hates me.”

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Tell me what happened?”

Robbe looked away, gathering some leftover courage, trying to not pass out right there and then.

He had to start somewhere, so he stared from the beginning, talking so fast, almost not taking any breath between the sentences, wanting the whole thing to be over already.

“I’ve always known we were too close and I love that but this year I noticed somethings started to change, I mean now I realize that they didn’t start to change I just started noticing them and slowly I understood that it wasn’t just casual and normal feelings you usually get for your friends. No, it was more, way more and I - I didn’t know what to do - I thought they would go away - I was scared and I thought they were temporary so I started pulling away - I started drifting off. At first it wasn’t anything serious, Sander didn’t even notice it but no matter how much I’d stay away when I came back to him the feelings somehow got stronger and stronger so I decided to start pushing him away more and more - until we didn’t hang out anymore. And I felt so horrible, crying myself to sleep every night because no matter what the feelings weren’t getting away and I was missing him like crazy.

Then he started to notice it, and I felt even worse but I was too far gone, too caught up to try to make myself believe that I wasn’t in love with him to notice him, to notice everything.”

He was looking anywhere but at his friend’s face, who was listening to every word he said with his full attention, managed to completely drink his coffee and by the way they both looked, just sitting there, discussing this like they were talking about life and death situation, not even a waitress dared to go up there to take his empty cup away.

“I lied once when he asked me to hang out, felt terrible but then I lied again and again, until lying to him just became something natural.

And because of that - because of myself I - I lost him. He hates me.

I knew what was going on and I couldn’t do anything about it, just stand behind and watch him slip away from my fingers.

Then things got so bad, we’d argue everyday and I realized that I had to be there for him, even if I would be hopelessly in love with him and hurt myself, I couldn’t continue hurting him the way I was doing, without any reason, without any excuse.

But I couldn’t do it for long. I’d be there, then I’d hurt myself again so I was debating between seeing him and not seeing him.

I started to lose him - I t-tried to be there.

And - and - we - we were fine.

Then I decided to just fuck it and say it and I came out to him, I decided that I’d say I loved him but I chickened out at the last minute, it was already too late to go back now so I told him I was in love with someone else.”

And that’s when he looked up, finally, and Jens saw that the boy was at the edge of crying, all those secrets and feeling and emotions he kept inside for so long starting to come out, only to destroy him more.

“With who?” He asked quietly, still trying to wrap his head around the stuff Robbe was telling him.

“It doesn’t matter right now. The worst thing is that I can’t take any of it back.

It was just a while ago when I was trying to go back to how we were before.

Before summer when I realized that not only I wanted to watch a film with him, but I also wanted to put my head on his shoulder, wanted to be able to hold his hand, wanted to see how his lips would taste.

And things were going well I’d say but one day my mom - she had some problems - I had to go to different pharmacies to get her medication and they didn’t have it so I spent the whole day - my phone died - and I was supposed to meet Sander, he was giving me another chance or it felt like it and I blew it - I blew everything up. I couldn’t tell him I was busy, I felt like it’d come out like another excuse, like I was trying to save myself and my ass by making him feel guilty since I was late because of my mom and her condition.”

Jens remembers that day, how his mom called him while they were at the skatepark, he doesn’t know what she told him but judging from the way Robbe’s eyes went wide and he practically run off, he guessed, nothing good left her mouth from the other side of the phone line.

“Now he has a girlfriend - he doesn’t want to talk to me - he never will and I - fuck” he put his head in his hands as tugged on them.

And that’s when Jens heard his whisper, he has never heard Robbe say anything with so much emotions inside like he said this: “Loving him is just a losing game. No matter what I will never win.”

Jens took that as a hint to start talking himself too. He stretched over the table and put his hand on his shoulder, made the boy sit up.

“Hey. It will be alright okay. Tell me what happened next?”

So Robbe told him everything, each word Sander said, which he knew by heart since he has read their messages numerous of times already, spent all night staring at the open chat.

And after he was finally done, he mumbled: “What do you think? I really need some advice right now.”

Jens had no idea what to say, he really wasn’t good at those things but for Robbe, he could at least try.

“How do you feel? What do you want to do?”

Robbe sighed and shook his head.

“That’s the thing Jens, I have no idea, I don’t know. One part of my head is relieved, thinking I will finally be able to forget him but the other part is holding on to the idea of Sander like its life is depends on it.”

“Which part do you want to believe?”

“The first one would be easier but I can’t do that to him anymore, I can’t make him think he did something wrong, I can’t make him think he wasn’t enough or worth it. I just can’t - I - I love him too much for that.”

“Then tell him the truth.” He wanted to add ‘problem solved’ but bit his tongue fast enough, realized it wasn’t simple at all.

“I will lose what we have. I will lose our friendship.” Robbe whined.

Like I haven’t lost it already.

He said in his head.

Listening to Robbe moaning about this wasn’t easy but like his friend, he could see that the poor boy was lost in his own head so he had to take matters into his own hands.

“Sander said that you have to be fully his friend or not at all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to?”

“Do I want to what?”

“Do you want to be his friend?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.” Robbe looked at Jens like he’s grown a second head, judging him because he even dared to ask that question, like the answer was already pretty obvious.

“Then you should be. Like you said, you either have to tell him the whole truth or hurt yourself by being only his friend. I don’t think there is any other option.”

“He’s in a relationship now. Obviously he’d never look at me more then just a friend.”

“Just tell him what you feel. Tell him you want to be with him, be his friend and try. I don’t know what else to say. I like Sander. I like him a lot and you losing him, also means me loosing him and I don’t want that. He needs to learn how to skateboard before he can get out of my sight alright?”

The last sentence made Robbe chuckle sadly, all the time Sander whined about Jens forcing him to learn a trick or two coming rushing in front of his eyes from his memories.

“Also I thought that I was your best friend? I’m hurt!” And he put his hand on his heart jokingly and made a crying face which made Robbe smile.

It was nice, finally taking to somebody about what’s been bothering and going on with him.

Hearing an advice felt amazing.

“You are but he’s different kind of best friend.” Robbe told him and he realized how true that statement was.

Sander was different kind of best friend.

Different kind of person Robbe could tell everything to.

Well everything but this.

“Alright alright. If you say so.”

They were sitting in a comfortable silence, both of them knew that they couldn’t decide anything but it was still nice, talking and discussing this topic.

“Robbe?”

“Hm?” He looked up and saw Jens smirking at him, and was already getting ready to hear something stupid or weird but what Jens said, was different.

It made him feel emotions he couldn’t describe nor point his fingers at.

“Go get your boy.”

Robbe gave him an annoying look.

“He’s not my boy.”

“You’re the one saying that, not him.”

And Robbe only dared to roll his eyes, a weak smile covering his face.

His boy.

It sounded perfect in his head.

Only if....

Only if.

Chapter 13

[minimitchell]

5- “I thought we were friends.” please ☺️

Ben has four good friends in his life; the kind you tell all your secrets and keep for the rest of your life.

Him, Jay and Lola have always been friends; they’ve grown up with each other and have known one another since they were kids. Frankie on the other hand is a newer friend, who has joined their little ragtag group of people after Ben met her when he was helping out at an after-school club; she’s teaching other students sign language and they’ve immediately bonded over that.

And then there’s Callum.

They’ve been friends ever since Callum rocked up here in Walford with his weird older brother and even weirder dad a few years ago. They clicked immediately, easy banter and teasing flowing freely between the both of them, and it took no time for him and Ben to become really close.

Callum’s home life isn’t exactly the best so he spends most of the time after school at Ben’s house, or they’re hanging out with the others at the park or somewhere else around here. They become sort of like a package deal - where one goes, the other soon follows.

Things are damn near perfect until that one day - the night of Callum’s birthday party.

He’s finally eighteen, the last one of their little group to finally become an ‘adult’, and they’re having a party for him at Ben’s house. Partly because his own birthday was only a couple of days ago so it’s the perfect opportunity for a joint do and partly because Callum’s dad would never allow him to throw a party at their flat.

It took a lot of convincing and begging for Ben’s dad to agree to this but fortunately for them he had in the end - under the condition that they would get the house clean again before he comes back that Sunday.

Ben doesn’t want to toot his own horn but the party is definitely a success. Half of their year is here - singing and dancing and getting increasingly drunk. He takes a no doubt regrettable amount of shots with Frankie in the kitchen, presses in close to grind against Lola on the makeshift little dance floor in the living room and gets roped into a game of beer pong against some of the guys from their year.

More importantly though, he makes sure that Callum is happy. There’s a big grin on his face that hasn’t left all night, even if it got progressively less sober and more dopey as the night went on, and he seems to have the time of his life, laughing and shouting lyrics to cheesy pop songs with all kinds of people here.

He’s happy and that in turn makes Ben happy as well.

It’s all he could ever ask for.

When the last people eventually leave it’s close to four in the morning. Their friends are long gone and Ben can’t wait to fall into his bed and sleep, he’s that exhausted. He’s already dreading tomorrow’s hangover.

Callum is spending the night, not just because this is his party as well so they both have to clean up the mess tomorrow but because it’s just what he does. What they’ve done a million times before.

But there’s something different happening today.

Today, right there in the dark of Ben’s bedroom, where they’re both already tucked in under the cover, on the night after his birthday does Callum finally spill his biggest secret to Ben. The two little words hang in the air between them for a long moment while Ben thinks of what to say in response.

I’m gay.

It keeps replaying in his head; Callum’s careful, hushed voice now ingrained in his memory, probably forever.

Callum knows that Ben is gay as well. He’s been there for most of his figuring out, knows all about him fooling around with guys at parties and the casual dates he goes on sometimes. Ben always had a hunch, an inkling, that Callum was into guys but he never said anything about it, not wanting to push Callum in case he wasn’t ready to face that yet.

Apparently, all he had to do is wait him out and let him figure it out on his own.

It could be perfect as well. He could just tell Callum he understands and that it’s okay, that of course it doesn’t matter to Ben. And there’s that little, hopeful voice inside his head, he’s tried so hard to suppress over time, that whispers that maybe this crush simmering away inside his chest could be something more now one day.

Only, it doesn’t quite go that way.

He does say all the encouraging things to Callum, gives him the support he needs and deserves right now. But because Ben is just so fucking stupid and there’s still massive amounts of alcohol swimming in his veins, he also does the worst thing he could possibly do - he leans forward and kisses Callum. His best mate. And even worse, when Callum’s hands start wandering and tugging off his clothes he does nothing to stop him.

.

The next day is horrible.

There’s a pounding in his head that doesn’t seem to lessen even after he’s taken two Aspirin and drunk a large mug of coffee. The house is a mess and Ben is more than thankful for the fact that his dad isn’t coming home until later tonight. He probably knew what would greet him otherwise.

Ben got out of bed the second he was awake enough to do so, leaving Callum behind to sleep the rest of the alcohol off.

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to sleep with his best mate; stupid enough to get caught up in the moment and damn any consequences. Terrible consequences at that.

Because how can they stay friends after this?

How can they go back to how they were before when Ben knows how Callum feels now; how he sounds and what he tastes like.

He doesn’t want this to ruin their friendship, because it undoubtedly will. They’ll maybe decide to give it a try, Ben will ruin it like he always does and they’ll never want to speak a word to each other again. Or, they become something and in the end, Callum leaves because that’s all they ever do. No one ends up choosing Ben.

He doesn’t want any of that to happen.

Callum is the first person who completely gets Ben, in and out, often without saying anything at all. He trusts him more than anyone, more than Jay even, and Ben doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Callum by his side.

And of course he went ahead and fucked it all up.

He has already cleared the cans and bottles from downstairs, starting a load in the dishwasher, when he hears the stairs creaking and footsteps coming closer. It sets off panic in Ben’s chest because now is the time to decide whether he wants to outright tell Callum he’s at least a little bit in love with him or ask him to forget about the whole thing.

In a fit of pure panic, he does neither. He pretends nothing ever happened at all.

“Hey.”

Callum’s voice is hesitant, barely audible over the low hum of the radio Ben turned on in a desperate attempt to drown out his own thoughts. He looks over at Ben like he’s some wild animal he’s trying to approach, obviously wanting to gauge his reaction to what happened between them.

Ben doesn’t dare to look at him, can’t bring himself to face him right now, so he busies himself by getting another big trash bag from underneath the sink, avoiding Callum’s eye as much as possible.

“Nice of you to finally join me. You can get started in the living room, do some hoovering maybe. There’s crisps everywhere.”

Yeah, getting Callum into a different room, putting some much needed space between them, sounds like a good idea. At least, until Ben can figure out what to do to get out of this situation unscathed and with his dignity intact.

“I thought we could maybe get some breakfast? Talk a bit?”

Ben doesn’t answer immediately, mulling his words over in his head. He wants to say yes but he’s too afraid of what could happen if he does. Is this Callum wanting to let him down easy? Telling him thanks for this experience but I’m not interested in anything more?

He couldn’t even blame him really. Callum should go out and explore, figure out himself and what he’s into without being chained to someone else. Ben is glad he could give him a good first time - at least he thinks it was good for Callum, because it was pretty incredible for himself - but he’s under no impression that he won’t be just one of many for Callum.

As he should be. Because Callum is funny and smart and gorgeous in a cute way and he deserves to have a lifetime of romance and adventure. He deserves a line of guys falling over themselves to be with him. He deserves better than Ben; better than someone who already has quite the reputation for being an easy lay at school.

“I thought we were friends. Friends help other friends clean up before their dad gets back and yells at them for leaving the house in a state.”

It’s a flimsy deflection. Ben is all too aware that Callum knows his dad isn’t coming back until later. And although it’s close to midday already, they still have all the time in the world to clean up. There’s no reason they shouldn’t stop to have a hangover breakfast first - except the fact that Ben is a giant coward, of course.

“Are we?”

“What?”

Ben finally meets Callum’s eyes across the kitchen table and it’s immediately obvious that he’s said the wrong thing somewhere along the way. Because Callum’s face is hard, his expression unimpressed and mouth a thin line. There’s something softer in his eyes though; something sad or pleading maybe, betraying the thunderstorm clouding his face.

“Are we just friends? ‘Cause I don’t think friends do what we did yesterday.”

Ben blows out a breath, hand coming up to scratch at his face in a nervous habit. Apparently, they are talking about it now. This will all end in tears, Ben’s sure of it.

“Technically it was today.”

“Ben!”

They’re quiet for a long moment; the only sound in the room the whirring from the dishwasher and the radio playing some old song about heartbreak that hits a little too close to home right now.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cal.”

The tone of their conversation seems to shift then. Callum’s face shifts from mad to something that looks a lot like defeat; like he’s not even considering this having a good outcome anymore. It makes Ben pause somewhat because it means there was hope there sometime before.

He’s trying hard not to latch onto that hope, because what if he’s mistaken?

Callum takes a deep breath, like he’s racking up the courage to actually say what he’s about to say, and Ben is scared but ready at the same time to cling to every word.

“I want you to say you don’t regret it. Because I don’t, not at all. I know we’re mates but I always hoped it would happen. I always hoped that when I was finally ready, it would be with you.”

Ben doesn’t want to let himself hope, still stuck somewhere between denial and self-protection. Just because Callum wants him too, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t crash and burn and ruin their friendship in the process.

“Callum, you deserve better than me.”

Callum walks around the kitchen table, stopping only when he’s standing in front of Ben, placing both of his hands on either side of Ben’s face to get him to look up at him. He has to fight the strongest urge to lean into Callum; it feels too good to have him touch him again like this. He’s only felt Callum’s touch a couple of hours ago at this point but it already feels like he can’t breathe without it.

“No. I deserve what I want to. And I want to be with you. And I think you want that too. Let's just give us a chance, yeah?”

Ben tangles his hands in the fabric of Callum’s white shirt, using his hold to pull Callum a step further into him. The doubts are still there, and they probably will remain rooted in his head for a while, but they aren’t as loud when Callum is looking at him like he is now.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s try this.”

It’s hard not to be infected by the bright smile taking over Callum’s face at that, Ben trying to hide his own smile by scrunching up his face and looking at the ground as best as he can when his face is still being held by Callum.

He’s willing to give his best when it comes to this; to be the best boyfriend Callum could ever have. Because he wants him to be happy, and more so he wants to be the one who makes him happy. He’ll try at least.

Callum’s thumbs brush over the skin over his cheeks for a second before he leans into him and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s just a sweet, short peck but it’s enough to send Ben’s heart into overdrive, hammering against his chest in such a wild rhythm he’s sure Callum must be able to hear it.

When they part, Ben presses his forehead against Callum’s, not ready to let him go yet. It’s paradoxical - this whole morning he’s tried to tell himself they don’t have a future together and now that it’s within reach, under his fingers and on his lips, he doesn’t want to be without it ever again.

“You think cleaning the rest of the house can wait?”

Ben breathes out a laugh, letting go of Callum’s shirt so he can reach up and tangle their hands together, pulling him along with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs again.

No matter what happens in the future, they’ll figure it out.

Together.

[iamcath]

Only Exception

Atsumu is tired of and doesn't want to believe in love anymore. Every time he lets himself fall for someone he always ends up getting hurt, cheated on and left alone. It’s the cycle he didn’t want to go through anymore. He might as well grow old all by himself while he drinks a hot coffee on his porch someday. It would be fine, he doesn’t need anyone. In anyways, he can still just annoy Osamu if he gets bored.

When he thought he had actually made up his mind, he met Shouyou once again. The last time he saw the small middle blocker with ginger hair was during their senior year at Nationals. He heard from Tobio and Bokuto that Shouyou decided to go to Rio(a country on the other side of the world) and play beach volleyball instead, which maybe not a bad thing really. He always keeps tabs of the boy's whereabouts just because he couldn’t forget him, not with that amazing passion and bottomless hunger to play volleyball that the boy has that haunted him all those years. There’s no way he can forget Shouyou, not when he made the promise that he will definitely set for him one day.

“Hi, Miya-san! It was nice seeing you again!” the gingered boy greeted with a beaming smile on his face. A smile that almost blinded him that he thought he was directly looking at the sun. It seems nothing has changed with Shouyou except his tanned skin that shows some freckles on his face and his very toned and well built body build. Rio indeed does him good. Who lets Shouyou be so hot and sexy that he almost forgot that they aren’t alone and everyone is looking at them.

“Shouyou-kun. We’re gonna be teammates. I prefer that you call me Atsumu or else I won’t set the ball to you.” he said, disrupting his thoughts in his head when Bokuto hit him in the back. Shouyou hesitates for a second, not sure if he can do that because he thinks it would be rude but then, if Atsumu prefers and says it’s alright for him to do so then it wouldn’t be a problem,  “Alright, Atsu..Atsumu-san.” Shouyou said as he let off a ridiculous perfect smile that Atsumu wished that he would always see.

Wait… Pause for a moment… What did he just wish? Hold on.. He thought to himself as he shook his head. There’s no time for him to fall for someone nor like someone. Even if he does, he would rather pick up a stone and thwack it directly to his head.

' It's too dangerous to be around with Shouyou' he warns himself and from then on, he always gets his guards up, not letting the embodiment of the sun tear down his high walls. He must protect his heart now because he can no longer allow himself to be careless and get himself hurt once again. Seriously, who invented love anyway?

Osamu is getting really annoyed by his constant yapping over Shouyou whom he said that he didn’t like but can’t shut his trap out ever since Shouyou joined the Black Jackals.

“What the fuck is wrong with you this time?” Osamu annoyingly asked as he handed a plate of onigiris to Atsumu, who started banging his head on the table, “Eat and get lost. You are bad for the business.”

“You should comfort me instead of insulting the hell out of me everytime I come here.. I’m your ‘twin brother’ for fuck sake.” He demanded as if it wasn’t obvious how pathetic he looks while he sulks, giving Osamu a major headache. He was about to say something to his dumb blonde twin when someone open the store door.

Osamu and him, in unison, look at the door to see who is coming in. Oh and speaking of the devil, it was Shouyou. Atsumu strengthened his posture and tried to act cool while Osamu greeted the ginger boy. Shouyou looks at them with a confused face as he says, “Did I interrupt something? Sorry.. I-” which Atsumu quickly cut off, flinching his hands in the air, “You didn’t. Me and this shithead are just having our usual conversation. Nothing special.” Osamu ignored his insult as he squinted his eyes on him. Atsumu squinted his eyes back at his twin, delivering a message that says, ‘ Don’t you dare try to say shit to Shouyou-kun or I will commit arson on your fucking store.’

Osamu rolled his eyes at him and told Shouyou to take a seat, “I have a special one here that I wanted you to try out, Shouyou-kun. Would you like to try it out?”

“Oh sure.. I’m hungry and would love to be your guinea pig Osamu-san.” Shouyou answered brightly and took a sit beside Atsumu. He was so overwhelmed by the sun's presence that he couldn't even utter a single word.

“Atsumu-san, are you alright?”

“Of course I am more than alright. Want to do extra training later?”

“Yes, sure!! That would be great! I actually want to try something new with you.”

‘ Something new? What does that supposed to mean Shou-kun?’. He thought that he almost choked up while he was drinking his water. He knows what Shouyou means, he does. It was just his gay compulsiveness that's thinking.

Shouyou is so kind to him and he feels like he was treating him more differently than the others. He knows that it was wrong for him to give meaning to every Shouyou’s actions but how can he look the other way, when the bright sunshine human being is slowly consuming him?. He didn’t want this. Not anymore.

Osamu asked him this once, “You keep saying you’re done with love as if everyone and everybody that goes your way will only hurt you. What if someone comes and that someone is willing to prove that they’re not like the others, wouldn't it be a waste to let it go? You’re already concluding something that has not even started yet.” His twin can be rude and a jerk often but sometimes, Osamu surely knows how to open his mouth and say things that he didn’t even want to hear because it absolutely makes sense.

Atsumu found himself waking up to an unfamiliar smell that probably came from the kitchen. He’s head really hurts and he still feels like throwing up. He got himself so drunk last night at the victory party that he can’t hardly remember what happened. But before he can think about what kind of stupidity he did last  night, he must know first where he is. He scans his surroundings, looking for his phone first, where he finds it at the side table near the bed. He's gonna check it out later and it’s not like there is someone looking for him or something.

He wasn’t sure who brought him to this place until he saw the picture frame at the study table. It belongs to Shouyou and inside the frame, it was his picture together with his mother and his sister, Natsu-chan. Shouyou brought him to his apartment.

He finally decided to get up and see where Shouyou at and what he was doing early this morning. Shouyou’s apartment is not that big. A one bedroom, small living room and small kitchen with one bathroom is good enough for one person to be living with.

“You’re finally awake, Atsumu-san. Hangover?” Shouyou asked immediately once he saw him get out of the bedroom while his hands were busy mixing and cooking something on the pot that smelled appetizing. He didn’t know that Shouyou could cook but when it comes to Shouyou, nothing is impossible. That is why… Wait.. what the hell he should do now? It finally sunk in to him that he’s in Shouyou's apartment and they were alone. Just the two of them. He started to get so nervous that he could feel some cold sweats at the back of his neck but he needed to play it cool or else Shouyou might feel awkward too with his presence and that’s the last thing he wanted to happen.

“Yeah. Heads hurt like crazy” he answered as he let off a fake chuckle.

“It must be.. You were so wasted last night that you can’t even tell me what your address is. I should have called Osamu-san to ask, but… It was so late and he was probably sleeping. Didn’t want to bother him, that is why I brought you home with me. I’m sorry if I didn’t ask for your permission first..”

“No, I should apologize for getting so drunk last night and for causing you trouble. I didn’t know what had gotten into me. That’s the first time I got myself so drunk to the point of being wasted.”

“That’s fine Atsumu-san.. You can drink all you want as long as I’m with you. I mean.. If you don’t mind having me around.”

'If you don't mind having me around' these words were lingering in his head, like one of his favorite songs that he listened to when he was happy. It was so nice to hear Shouyou say that. As if he wants him to be with him for as long as he wants.

"Shouyou-kun.. Do you.. perhaps… like me?" He accidentally mumbled.

' Crap' he wasn't supposed to say that but due to the words Shouyou spokes, the question just fucking slipped out on his mouth. 'Fuck it' he thought, he can just make an excuse later, like he wasn't sober and they can just forget about it. He wanted to storm out of Shouyou's apartment and buried himself somewhere where nobody could find him and his body.

"I do.. I do like you Atsumu-san. I thought I was being obvious already but maybe I wasn't." Shouyou shyingly said, turning off the gas stove and transferring the miso soup on the bowl to serve him.

'What the actual fuck? Oh wait.. maybe he likes him as a brother or a friend?' A platonic relationship is ideal for them because there's no way Shouyou will like him.. Not when everyone arounds them adores and loves him.

"You do? What kind of like is that? Like as a brother or a friend?" He asked, playing dumb, denying everything because if he won't, he probably gonna say that he likes him too that it's driving him crazy already.

"Not that kind of like Atsumu-san.. More like, a like that I want to be with you always, protect, love , make you happy kind of like, like.."  Shouyou straightly forwarded said.

He was stunned. He can't even move an inch to where he is. He remembered all his past relationships and what they have done to him. He wanted to believe it because he wanted to be with Shouyou too but he was too scared. What if he gets hurt again? He can afford another heartbreak. It will definitely ruin him and everything about him.

"Shouyou-kun.. I-" he was about to say something when Shouyou cutted him off.

"You don't have to like me back, Atsumu-san.. I just wanted to tell you because I wanted you to be aware of me. So don't worry.. You must be hungry, eat first and then drink this medicine. It would help you get rid of your hangover." Shouyou said with a smile on his face.

He wanted to say something but he felt like if he did, things between them would really get awkward. He wasn't sure if the smile that Shouyou wears in front of him was real or fake but he felt something was already off about him.

He shouldn't have asked that stupid question because from the start he was aware. He didn't just bring it up because he was afraid to hear that he was right. He doesn't want to lose Shouyou this way or not in any way.

' What if someone comes and that someone is willing to prove that they’re not like the others, wouldn't it be a waste to let it go? You’re already concluding something that has not even started yet.' he suddenly remembered what Osamu had said to him before. He was full of 'what ifs' but he never thought of 'what could have been'. Maybe, just maybe.. Shouyou is really different. There wasn't a time that he could think of, where Shouyou didn't laugh to the stupidest, cringest, annoying and you can call it whatever you want jokes. Shouyou always cheered him up whenever he felt kind of down and always told him that he would hit his toss no matter how off and ugly it was which would never happen Shouyou said because for him, he's the best and greatest setter that he could ever have. He always compliments him no matter how big or small his accomplishment was.

"Shou-kun.." he called out, wanting the sun's attention to turn fully to him.

"Yes, Atsumu-san? Didn't you like your food? I can cook you something else.."

"No, Shou-kun.. Can you listen to me?" He asked and the ginger boy nodded his head.

If he wants to try it all over again, he should first explain everything to him and let Shouyou understand why he's so afraid of falling in love. He explained everything to him, he didn't even leave even the slightest details. He wanted Shouyou to see him for what and who he really is. The Atsumu who acted so tough, self-less and confident inside the court is not the same Atsumu outside the court. This tough, self-less and confident persona of him is also scared, selfish and insecure. Those were the things that Shouyou needs to embrace and accept if he still decides that he still wants to be with him.

Shouyou stood up from his chair and kneel down before him. He held his hands, and put them closer to his lips and kissed it.

"I'm sorry if I took too long to come into your life. But you know.. It's better late than never.. right? I wanted to be the best for you because you are the first person who has seen and acknowledged me as a valuable player. I still remember your promise. It finally came true. And.. I was so happy to be playing with you and got the chance to be with you. It's anything that I could ask for." Shouyou paused for a second and reached out his cheek, caressing it gently as he continued, "I can't promise that I can take all the hurt away but what I can offer is to share the burden with you until you can finally say that the pain that you went through before was worth it. That your past relationships didn't work out because you are actually for me. That all the things you've been through leads you all the way to me. Let's take it slow. One step at a time. I'm a very patient man after all." Shouyou finished.

Tears started streaming down to his face as he said, "You're such a smooth talker.. You know that?"

Shouyou gently wipes his tears away as he smiles at him "Am I? Very well then.. I will take that as a compliment."

Shouyou faced him, eye to eye level. His hands still on his cheeks. He never understood how those hands were so warm that he felt like he was finally home after a tiring day. Like, if he can relive one moment in his life, this is the moment he will play for a thousand times and will never get sick of it.

He closed his eyes and he knew, his walls were already teared down from the very first moment he saw Shouyou's face again after seven years.

His lips and Shouyou's lips meet for the first time and he wonders where those lips have been, that he waited seven years to taste them. It was a messy kiss at first but as time went by it turned out so passionate that he never wanted it to stop if it weren't for their lips being swollen.

He never intends to let anyone in his life again. He was determined to live his life alone but thinking how silly it was, it made him laugh.

Shouyou is the only exception. A risk that he will gladly take over and a dozen times again. A 'what could have been' that he was thankful for but will never be a 'what if' that he'll regret later on.

[magniloquent-raven]

Hello! For the I Love You prompt, 96 (“I brought you an umbrella.”) and first kiss please! I love me some fluff

thanks so much for the prompt :D

i wrote some bucklway! hope that’s okay!! and a lot of steve&robin being best friends because i love that for them. (and it’s a modern au)

(posted on ao3)

—-

Robin’s phone buzzes.

Her shift is almost over. Twenty more minutes ‘til freedom and air that doesn’t smell like burnt coffee. She doesn’t need to check her phone yet. It can wait. She’s keeping her eyes fixed forward, watching the door in case customers come in. There’s nobody even on the street outside, but still, it could happen. It’s raining, people come into cafes for shelter all the time.

Stupid, traitor brain doesn’t seem to be getting the message though, because she keeps glancing down at her phone, sitting there on the counter taunting her. She’s looking often enough that Steve’s noticed. She can see him making faces at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Just check, Rob,” he groans.

“Check what,” she asks, deadpan. Steve is unmoved.

“We both know it’s Heather, and we both know you’re dying to know what it says.”

“We don’t know that. It could be…” she pauses, laments the sad state of her social life.

Steve smirks, “I will pay you if you can come up a name right now.” Asshole.

“Your mom. Thanking me for last night,” Robin replies, wiggling two fingers in front of her mouth. Steve bats her hand away, pretending to gag.

“Robin, no.”

“Robin, yes.”

They’re interrupted when her phone buzzes again.

It’s not like she even has a good reason not to check. In fact, not checking is driving her a little nuts. It’s just that she knows it probably is Heather, and her big dumb gay crush is starting to chip away at her withered little soul.

They’d been in the same creative writing class all semester and Robin hadn’t even noticed her beyond the cursory “yeah this girl looks like she’s here on daddy’s dime”. Then their professor had partnered them for some assignment three months ago and…well. Turns out Robin was right, but Heather was also so much more than that. Her father had wanted her to join the family business, be a reporter, but Heather’s heart had always been set on fiction. She had to fight to be allowed to take creative writing, to convince her parents it was even worth their money. The way she talks about writing makes Robin weak in the knees, and the fact that it was an act of rebellion doesn’t hurt either.

And on top of all that she’s got the prettiest smile Robin’s ever seen, and she always smells a little like vanilla.

Long story short, Robin fell hard.

So, letting her unread messages sit there is just easier than having to deal with Heather being all nice and friendly and unattainable, doesn’t matter that it’s making her itchy. Maybe. Probably.

She glances at her phone again.

“If you don’t check, I will.”

“Don’t you dare, Harrington.”

He raises his eyebrows, a challenge.

“Fuck,” she hisses quietly, clenching and unclenching her hands. She knows she’s gonna check but doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction yet. “Goddamnit. Fine.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

It’s her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Pot. Kettle. Yadda yadda. Also, the one about glass houses? I could go on.”

“Please don’t. Just text your girlfriend back.”

“I hate you,” she says, faux cheerful, and grabs her phone.

And freezes.

Heather sent her a selfie. A selfie. She’s standing next to a window, pointing at the rain and pouting, and it’s adorable. Her bottom lip is all shimmery with lip gloss and Robin wants to know what it tastes like. She seems like a strawberry lip gloss kind of girl. Robin’s always liked strawberries.

God, she’s so fucked. And not in the way she wants to be.

There’s also a text. “Worked so hard on my hair this morning, and for WHAT”.

Ugh. It shows. It really does. She’s got a little crown braid, half her hair cascading out of it in glossy waves, a couple stray curls framing her face. It’s a good look.

“Aw. She’s just down the street, you know, you should help her out,” Steve says, right next to her ear. She jumps, turns around and swats him away.

“Stop reading over my shoulder!”

He ignores her, “Girls love a good romantic gesture,” he says, nodding like he thinks he’s being wise. There’s a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that ruins the whole look.

“Like you would know.”

“I’m in a committed relationship!”

“Yeah, with Hargrove. I don’t trust any of your dating advice.” Robin crosses her arms. She’s better at hiding her grin than he is.

“Oh, come on, you love Billy.”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t date him.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. He looks so genuinely flummoxed that Robin finally breaks, snickering.

She turns her attention back to her phone. The selfie. Heather is wearing her work apron, smeared with paint. Steve was right, she’s just down the street at that weird little pottery-making place Robin walks by every day but never actually pays much attention to.

And Robin did bring an umbrella to work…

“But what if—” Robin blurts, then bites her lip. She picks at her fingernails, chipping at the bits of polish she has left. It’s a stupid idea. It’s just another dumb crush on another girl who will never feel the same. She’s done this before, she can deal with just…waiting it out. No need to rush the inevitable devastating end with a gesture that would one hundred percent blow up in her face.

“Hey.” Steve startles her out of her thoughts. His voice is soft, and he’s got his Bambi face on, all big-eyed and dewy. “Heather’s different, okay?”

Of course he could see it written all over her face. Stupid Steve and his stupid empathy and kindness, making her feel all seen.

“I really think it would work out, Robin.”

“You don’t know that,” she says quietly.

“No, nobody knows, but you gotta go for it anyways if you want to be happy.”

He’s right. She knows he’s right, but her stomach is still churning, nauseated by anxiety. It’s just an umbrella. She’d just be bringing her an umbrella. It doesn’t even have to mean anything.

“Go, before she finishes her shift,” Steve urges, “I’ll cover for you.”

Robin throws her arms around his neck. “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles, muffled against his shoulder. She doesn’t say it a lot, not while sober, but she’s feeling mushy.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line,” Steve chuckles, tone impossibly fond, and hugs her back. “I love you too, now go.”

She goes. Runs down the road like a madwoman, clutching her umbrella. For some reason she doesn’t think to open it, so she’s soaked by the time she gets to the end of the street, hair sticking to her forehead and dripping in her eyes.

Which is probably why she doesn’t see Heather as she flings the door open, nearly hitting her with it in the process.

“Robin?” she exclaims, dancing out of the way just in time. She’s even more stunning in person, and Robin is suddenly very aware that she’s a mess.

“Um. Hi.”

Heather’s blinking at her. Her eyeliner’s a little smudged. Robin’s never wanted to kiss someone more.

“Are…you okay?”

“I brought you an umbrella!”

“What?”

Robin holds it up, too embarrassed to speak. She’s getting rainwater all over the floor, and she kind of feels like she’s going to faint, lightheaded and weak in the knees. The only thing grounding her is how heavy the knot of anxiety in her gut is.

“Oh!” Heather smiles, slow and careful, “You…” She’s looking at Robin more closely now, eyes scrutinizing. 

The silence is making Robin fidget, and more words come pouring out suddenly, “Your hair. It looks really nice, and I just thought. You know. It would be a shame to, um. It’s just that you’re very pretty? I mean–” she stops, and begins planning out her new life as a hermit, preferably in a different country. 

“What…would you do if I kissed you right now?” Heather asks softly, almost shy.

Robin drops the umbrella.

“I—” she stutters, giggles a little hysterically, her brain somehow both blank and working overtime, “Probably pass out, honestly.”

Heather’s a lot closer than she was before, faint traces of vanilla still discernible under the earthy smell of clay. “Please don’t,” she laughs, and takes Robin’s face in her hands.

They both lean in, closing the gap between them. Robin’s still shaky, trying to steady herself by grabbing Heather’s waist but it only makes her knees wobble more.

Heather’s lip gloss isn’t strawberry, it’s peach. The discovery makes Robin smile against her mouth. She’s never been happier being wrong.

[aureolinsic]

SCM Gods in College HC (Wishes pt.2)

Link to Punishments pt. 1,2

who gave me the power to put these guys in a college setting this is a mistake-

4. Huedhaut

Rude Bitch Sarcastic Genius

Homoflexible

is a Classical Literature and History dual honour student

cool, calm and collected

unless he’s trying to reread Jane Eyre in the library in peace and some bitchass thinks it’s ok to disturb hi-

-ok maybe not so calm at times

this man is the undisputed 👑 KING 👑 of roasts, insults and sarcasm. Chat shit about him and he’ll end your life in haiku form, asswipe

he really got in on a full paid academic scholarship. like, am I even surprised?

he has 200+iq. Einstein is quaking.

He was considering studying Mathematics but he decided he didn’t hate his life that much and chose Literature instead

he often spends all of his money on rare editions of novels (Brontë is his favourite atm)

so he works at a café which doubles up as a small library about 20 minutes from the main campus in order to support his addiction

he likes it there because it’s rarely too busy and is very quiet

He refuses to tell any of the guys where he works in fear that they’ll ruin the one safe space he has left

when he’s not spending time at his second home, he’s usually at the dorms taking care of Aigo with Lou and Karno

ironic, because he’s the type of guy to forget to eat lunch and dinner because he was studying Sonnet 18 for the 13th time

He’s been homosexual for most of his life, but he recently met this girl called Clotho and he may or may not be a little curious about life on the other side 👀

5. Tauxolouve

The Sexy, Suave Playboy

Bisexual

ok, so I said Leon was gorgeous, but this man is dripping with sex. Quite literally sometimes

was once scouted to be a model but politely declined

Majors in Fine Art, minors in French

despite being in college he’s mature and smooth as fuck. He could talk you into bed with that deep voice of his and you wouldn’t even know what hit you

look up the word ‘suave’ in the dictionary and it’ll just be a picture of his face. I dare you

he rides this beautiful Harley Davidson everywhere and girls can’t help but fawn over how goddamn cool this guy is like wtf

his type is short and cute, girls or boys. He likes to pamper his partner. (sounds suspiciously like Aigo hmm)

Naturally he’s the biggest player on campus, he’ll date someone for a couple weeks max before moving onto the next one

people basically fall over themselves just to spend a night with him. like I’m pretty sure his last hook up was about to throw money at him just so he would fuck her

His foolproof method to land a partner is to bust out some French phrases. Always hook, line and fucking sinker

the amount of times that people have asked him to ‘paint them like his French girls’ is uncanny

he is an incredible artist tho

however, no matter how smooth and suave he is to the public, only the other 11 know how messy and uncoordinated he actually is

like sometimes he has to get Karno to help him tie the laces on his trainers after fiddling with them for 10 minutes

never ask him to play a sport like tennis, either. he’ll end up yeeting his racket at u by mistake

When he’s not busy seducing the public or being adorably clumsy, he’s usually taking care of Aigo

He’s the one who wakes him up for class and carries him to bed when he falls asleep at his computer

He couldn’t tell you why he likes taking care of him if you asked, tho

maybe because he wants that DIC-

6. Aigonorus

The Social Recluse

Homosexual

this man was once found sleeping in a fountain

He’s a true night owl 🦉

any time before 3pm is seen as early morning to him

majors in Animation

you know that one kid in high school who’s always asleep in class but somehow aces their tests?

yeah that’s Aigo

he has his own designated spot at the back corner of the lecture room where he takes his naps

sis really leaves his pillow and blanket there sometimes bc he knows he’ll be back

the lecturers really want to say something but he’s at the top of the class so they can’t say shit

if he’s not in class then he’s at home sleeping. sis doesn’t care about his social life

even tho he’s gay, girls still fawn over how adorable he is

thinks that coffee is for pussies

the others once dragged him to a gay nightclub for his 20th birthday

he was asked out by a guy in said club and his response was ‘I’m gay’

‘No shit dude, we all are?’

‘....oh yeah. oops-‘ and blacked out on the poor stranger

Teo may or may not have spiked his White Russian with more vodka than necessary

finds himself as the subject of Lou’s care on multiple occasions

like sometimes he’ll wake up to find a blanket around him and 3 goat plushies in his arms

he can’t help but smile and makes a reminder to thank Lou when he sees him next ✨

during the short time he is awake, he’s probably the one that he talks to most

he listens quietly as Lou recounts his disaster dates but he doesn’t notices that his eyes always drift to his lips

one time they were sat on the couch and Lou looked a bit troubled, so Aigo just enveloped him in a bear hug and made them lie down together

Lou was shocked but he wasn’t complaining... both of them fell asleep all curled up around each other

best believe that the other guys took many, many photos to commemorate such a moment

lowkey we stan LouxAigo 💖

[rorykillmore]

posting up a birthday gift fic for @alula !!! aka i decided to ambush them by not telling them i usually do this for my friends’ birthdays until like yesterday, but it’s the same idea! this is basically just like 1000+ words of gay introspection for our one villaneve rp verse, but one time they attacked me w something they wrote re: eve trying to tell villanelle she loves her while the latter was sleeping and i guess i just filed that away in the back of my brain until i could find a way to get revenge.

anyway a few nice words: i hope you have a great birthday scully!!! and. this might sound like a very low bar bc 2020 has been awful for all of us i’m sure, but meeting you and becoming friends has genuinely ended up one of the brightest highlights of my year and i’m so glad we stumbled across each other bc we both wanted someone to yell about ke with.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 

‘Feelings that can’t be put into words’ has never sounded like anything but a challenge to Villanelle. There are 6,500 different languages in the world. It stands to reason that if you can’t find the words you’re want in one of them, you just have to look somewhere else. 

The problem is -- she knows the words she wants to say to Eve. She has them. They exist in all 6,500 of those languages.

She’s already said them once.

She wonders to herself, over and over:  if she said them again, would they ruin everything a second time?

The textbook definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So Villanelle tries - in every way she knows how - not to be the same person she was before. Not to make the same mistakes.

“I want to tell you something,” Villanelle murmurs, catching Eve by the hand. It’s late, and they’ve just dropped Jin Ling off at his new apartment and packed it full of food and clothes (Villanelle had wanted to make sure he had clothes) and dog toys in preparation to move him in. Eve looks as tired as Villanelle feels when she turns back towards her, but the look in her eyes is as alert and questioning as it always is when she’s giving Villanelle her attention.

I’m listening. I’m usually listening when it comes to you,  Eve had told her once, and, I spent a ton of time listening to you before you even talked to me, and Villanelle had tucked all of those words away somewhere close to her heart.

They make Villanelle hesitate now, on the verge of something not for the first time.

(The first time had been the first night they’d spent together, in between the heated kisses Villanelle had trailed across her skin and in the contented quiet afterwards. Or after that, the night Eve had spent curled up in her lap after Villanelle had wiped away the tears she hadn’t quite understood in the moment.)

She deludes herself, in those few seconds in which Eve’s eyes meet her’s, that she’ll say it this time. But her throat starts to feel dry, and instead --

“I think I am starting to enjoy it.” Villanelle swallows and offers a crooked smile. “This... helping people?”

It isn’t a lie. So that’s something. It’s not the rush or the elation she remembers she used to get when she was hurting people -- it’s more like a quiet, contemplative sort of ache in her chest. She doesn’t know why she likes it. Maybe it’s the novelty of it all. 

Maybe it’s the way Eve looks at her now, the way she almost seems to soften at the edges. It wasn’t what Villanelle wanted to say, but the unguarded way Eve smiles back at her and doesn’t let go of her hand, it makes Villanelle decide that maybe it was worth it anyway.

It’s not as though she doesn’t have plenty of other chances.

She and Eve see each other nearly every day now. Most mornings start with them waking up together, and most evenings end with one of them outside the other’s door (or window, when it comes to Villanelle’s preferred method of entry). Villanelle starts to wonder how well she’d sleep in an empty bed, she’s gotten so used to tucking herself against Eve’s back, slinging an arm around her waist. She wouldn’t dare call it domestic, or normal, or any of the things Villanelle knows she can’t have and would never try to force Eve into.

But it’s... them. All the heat and passion and intensity Villanelle already knows so well, but also all of the smaller things that she is still learning that somehow feel equally a part of whatever they are. 

So it’s not as though the opportunities aren’t there. It’s just that it never feels like the right time.

She doesn’t want to scare Eve off or bring all their memories of Rome back into the forefront, and above all else, she doesn’t want to lie to her. Or to herself. And no matter how certain Villanelle is that she’s never felt this way about anyone else in her life, or that she wouldn’t have thrown her life as an assassin away and risked the terrifying reality of not knowing who she is for anyone but Eve, or that she might actually choose to die before ever hurting Eve again, she... can’t be sure that any of that counts as love. Because she doesn’t know what love looks like, or what it feels like, she doesn’t know if she really was wrong the last time she said it and she doesn’t know who to ask.

You don’t understand what that is. 

I want to, Villanelle thinks she should have said. I’m trying. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it better, just know that I’m trying.

But that hadn’t been how Rome had ended. And since then, so much has happened, and Villanelle has had to ask herself so many unpleasant questions that she once would have preferred not to ever think about at all, but... 

Maybe that’s a part of it. Of trying. Because after she’d gone home to her family, to her mother, she’d almost forgotten that it was worth trying at all, and Eve had reminded her so effortlessly just by showing up here, in this strange, dreamlike alternate reality. And that has to mean something, doesn’t it? That Eve always makes her want to try?

That Eve takes her coffee black (sometimes), that she raised venus fly traps as a kid and loved a girl in college, that she had a chicken for a pet and loves cute newborn kittens and scrawny stray cats, and that she thrives on the arguments she pretends to hate, that she cares about people even when they’ve done very bad things, that she’s fighting all the time to figure herself out, to know herself, that it scares her all the time but that she does it anyway. All of that means something to Villanelle. She wants to find the words for how much she cares about every part of Eve that Eve ever lets her see, and they’re right there, Villanelle knows that, just --

She never knew that ‘knowing’ and ‘saying’ could be such complicated different things.

So what’s there to do, Villanelle decides, shying away from paralyzing nerves that don’t at all become her, except keep trying? 

“I want to tell you something,” she murmurs again a few days later, this time into the place where the slope of Eve’s neck meets her shoulder, where Villanelle can hide her face.  She knows that’s cheating, though, and eventually stretches out and lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow, smiling languidly down at Eve in an effort to pretend that her heart isn’t nearly beating out of her chest.

This time, it’s the morning after they’ve officially defined their... relationship. Villanelle has tried to play it cool, really - she had laughed and was appropriately incredulous when Eve had confessed she’d been texting Hanzo about them, of all people - but she’s also spent the last twelve hours (or what she’s spent of them awake and coherent and not preoccupied by Eve herself, anyway) tossing around the word girlfriend in her head like some giddy teenager.  

Eve, perhaps hoping Villanelle is about to reveal a similarly embarrassing story about someone she has consulted for advice about their relationship, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t hold me in suspense.”

“I...” Villanelle falters again. Swallows. Tries to fight off an inward surge of frustration at herself, because that will definitely ruin the moment. And maybe some of it shows on her face, in her eyes, some vulnerability or fear or just how much she feels for Eve, because Eve’s bemusement softens into something more like concern.

“Villanelle --” Eve reaches up, and Villanelle feels the warmth of her hand against her cheek. She remembers the first time, what feels like so long ago back in Eve’s kitchen when this very same gesture was used to disarm. Now it feels... different, and Villanelle leans into her touch without even really thinking  about it. “ -- It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Villanelle knows Eve too well not to sense her nerves. Maybe she’s already guessed what Villanelle wants to say, or maybe she hasn’t and it’s the uncertainty that’s killing her, but she waits for Villanelle anyway, tells her that it’s okay anyway, doesn’t prompt or push her or try to deflect. 

And inexplicably it’s not a big fireworks moment, but this small, singular instance of selfless, uncharacteristic patience that makes Villanelle certain. Or maybe she always has been, and it’s just that she needs Eve there in front of her, both their guards dropped, for it to feel tangible. 

Villanelle doesn’t know what she is or isn’t, whether her mother and the Twelve and everyone who’s ever told her what she’s supposed to be were right or wrong, but she knows that she loves Eve. If there was ever a person she was capable of shattering every expectation and defying all the odds to love, it’d be Eve. And if she can’t quite bring herself to say it yet... that doesn’t make it any less true.

She covers the hand resting against her cheek with her own and turns her head just enough to press a feather-light kiss to the inside of Eve’s palm, barely able to hide a smile when some of Eve’s quiet apprehension seems to melt. Then for good measure - and because she can’t stop herself - she leans down and kisses Eve properly, slow and somehow unhurried despite every feeling she is determined to pour into it.

And she hadn’t meant to linger, but Eve kisses her back without hesitating, and Villanelle’s always found it difficult to resist getting lost in her. So she gives in, doesn’t resist, and like always with Eve, finds there is something strangely grounding in letting herself get lost. She hopes Eve feels it too. She hopes that - for right now - it’s enough.

“I’ll tell you later,” Villanelle murmurs against her lips once she’s just barely pulled away, and tries to make it sound like a promise.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Adapting

Summary: Bucky tries adapting to the 21st century but finds the challenge too much for him. He loves Steve, but he can’t imagine ever fitting in to the modern world and it leads him to a drastic solution.

Content Warning: A very sad Bucky. Very brief mention of period-typical homophobia. Overall this one is a little angsty but it has a happy ending, promise. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies, it’s been a while! I’ve been trying to get back into the groove of writing over the past few weeks and that posed more challenging than I’d expected. I managed to get this little fic where I wanted it though and figured I’d share it while I try to wrap up all the other stuff I’m working on. Hope you all enjoy :)  XOXO - Ash

Adapting

After a few months of living in the twenty-first century Bucky found he both loved and hated it in turns. When he’d been cleared as completely deprogrammed and sent home to the states he thought he couldn’t have been luckier. He was finally a free man, from both the government and the decades of brainwashing. Bucky was looking forward to living with Steve again in Brooklyn, the two of them on their own and free to do whatever it was super soldiers do in retirement when they’re not even thirty yet. The world was his oyster, he thought to himself as they signed the lease on a cute little condo right in the heart of their old neighborhood. 

The glamour of the twenty-first century faded quickly as Bucky tried to adjust to everyday life. Steve, who had been doing well on his own for four years, was eager to help Bucky acclimate to the new century. Unfortunately, Steve took to that as he did with all things; barreling in head first all at once. Bucky needed time to adapt, he couldn’t just throw himself at something and become good at it like Steve could. As much as he loved Steve, and god did he ever love that man, it was hard keeping up a brave face. Even harder, was that the love he’d felt for Steve back in the 30s hadn’t diminished one bit. 

When they were young being gay was a death sentence. Something so secretive that even back alley whispers could ruin a man’s life. Bucky had known he was gay since he knew what it was to want someone in that way. And like most things in Bucky’s life, it all came down to Steve freaking Rogers. The fine boned little blonde who never knew when to quit, his giant spirit housed in such a delicate frame. Bucky never acted on his feelings, never dared to, but some days he wished he’d had. It had been enough though, the time they’d had together in their tiny apartment over the Miller’s garage. He knew it wasn’t a crime to be gay anymore. He’d caught on to that pretty quickly, thank you HBO, but he still couldn’t bring himself to share that truth with Steve. Maybe someday. Bucky needed time to process and evaluate before proceeding, just like everything else in his life. 

One of the first things Bucky really minded was the food. Steve had warned him that everything tasted a little different nowadays but claimed he’d get used to it. Steve loved all the different types of takeout you could get in the city, willing to try anything and everything. Bucky found he couldn’t get past how fake everything tasted, like he could sense the lingering chemicals. Steve continued to insist they’d find something Bucky liked, even trying to ply him with bags of candy and boxes of mass produced cookies, trying to cater to his sweet tooth. Bucky gave up finally after a week where he’d spent ninety percent of the time hangry. He headed down to the farmers market and loaded up on all organic produce and heritage bred meats. He found an artisanal bakery that used simple organic ingredients too. Bucky took to making his own food from his farmers market shopping trips and was finally able to enjoy a meal. Steve, bless him, continued to try and find things Bucky would like but it never seemed to work out. Bucky felt guilty every time he’d have to pass something back to Steve with a “no thanks, pal” and the light of hope in Steve’s eyes dimmed. 

Steve was quite attached to his iPhone and thought for sure Bucky would love one too. He came home one afternoon with a sleek, shiny, little phone for Bucky, handing it to him like it was something priceless. “It does everything, Buck. You’re gonna love it.” he insisted. Bucky did not love it. The tiny black device only served to piss Bucky off more than anything. He could never quite get the hang of navigating it and his fingers always felt too big when he was trying to type. He’d loved technology when he was younger but the phone was just a bridge too far, and one he was not ready to learn how to cross. “I’m a hundred goddamned years old, Steve. No, I don’t wanna learn how to tweet. I’ll leave that to the fucking birds.” he grumbled, throwing the phone down on the coffee table after yet another one of Steve’s well intentioned attempts at teaching Bucky how to use some annoying app. Steve let up after that, leaving Bucky to poke around on the phone only when he was willing. Bucky knew Steve was upset that his gift wasn’t well received, but he was too frustrated with himself and the whole situation to apologize. 

Socializing was even becoming unenjoyable for Bucky. He used to go out every weekend to the dance halls and, when they were flush, the bars or clubs. Bucky was always the life of the party with a dame or two hanging off his arm, while Steve had shied away, content in the shadows. The times had certainly changed. Steve was now the one urging Bucky to hang out with the team and go out to the movies, but Bucky couldn’t have had less interest. He didn’t want to hold Steve back, and he felt horribly guilty when Steve would give him that damned sympathetic smile and say “It’s okay, Buck. We can just stay in.” when he very clearly wanted to go out. Bucky just couldn’t seem to fit in. He didn’t get the jokes or share the same interests with anyone and it was exhausting trying to make it seem like he did. So he preferred to stay at home in their condo, reading books or watching documentaries on their ridiculously large TV. He did occasionally enjoy when Natasha would drop in. It was seldom, but sometimes the tiny redhead would drop in unexpectedly with some old fashioned, homemade, Russian dish tucked under her arm for him. They would sit in silence watching a documentary, not having to say a word. She would give him a gruff hug and then be on her way. It was perfect and Bucky enjoyed her drop ins more than he’d admit. 

Everything came to a head after Steve’s birthday party. It was a week from hell as far as Bucky was concerned. He’d wanted to get Steve new paints and canvases, the expensive ones he’d seen the blonde fawning over a few weeks prior. Buying the supplies involved either going out in public alone, not ideal, or internet shopping, even worse. He tried to get them online but gave up after an hour, wanting to smash the damned laptop. Forcing himself to go out in public when he was already in a foul mood served to be just as disastrous, but he made it somehow. Then there was the party. Steve deserved the biggest, grandest party a guy could ask for, as far as Bucky was concerned. He wanted the best for Steve, he just didn’t want to be part of it. Steve looked at Bucky like he’d kicked his puppy when Bucky had told him he didn’t think he would be attending. So Bucky had put on his brave face and joined in on the loud, obnoxious party on July 4th to celebrate. Every drunken laugh and cheer grated on his nerves but he was coping and was quick to smile and nod every time Steve would look over. The last straw was the damn fireworks. Bucky hadn’t even stopped to consider how he would be with the fireworks but he quickly learned he was very not okay. Steve was staring up at night sky like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, completely enraptured by the show. Bucky was digging his nails into his palms so hard blood trickled slowly down to his wrist, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. In between blasts, he miraculously managed to excuse himself for a bathroom break, and locked himself in the bathroom where he could fall apart for a few minutes. Maybe the shrink Steve had drug him to was right about the whole PTSD thing. Fuck. 

Bucky was certain when he woke up the morning after Steve’s party that he was ruining the other man’s life. There was no sugar coating it anymore, Bucky was bringing Steve down by being with him. Bucky didn’t think he’d ever adapt to this new world and he was so damned tired of trying. He wished they’d just left him on the ice in Wakanda until they needed him for a mission or something. It had worked out for the past seventy years, it would probably be better knowing it was the good guys pulling the strings now. Sure, Steve would miss him at first but Bucky was convinced it was for the best in the long run. Who needed a socially inept, only slightly stable roommate who couldn’t do anything on their own? And Steve, self sacrificing saint that he was, would never complain about it. Which honestly just made it worse. Even when Bucky had his low spells and would spend days on end curled up in bed, unable to even function, Steve was there to support him however he could. It was just too much to throw on the man, no matter how hard Bucky was trying or how much he loved him. 

“I think I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky said one night over dinner. He was only half way through his roasted chicken and potatoes but he couldn’t wait another minute.

Steve choked on his pad thai. “What?!” he yelped once his coughing fit had stopped.

“I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky was firm in his decision, “I’m not meant for this world, Steve. You know it as well as I do. So let’s save everyone the headache and put me back under. If the team ever needs me you can just bring me back out to help.”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Steve jumped up from his spot on the sofa and started pacing, running his hands roughly through his thick blonde hair. “If we did that to you we would be no better than Hydra. Do you get that?”

Bucky sighed heavily, he should have known Steve wouldn’t get it. “It’s nothing like Hydra. The Avengers are the good guys. I won’t be brainwashed or tortured or anything. I’ll just take a long, chilly nap and you guys can bring me out when you need me.” 

“I need you!” Steve cried, exasperated. 

“Stevie,” Bucky’s tone softened, pleading, “I’m ruining your life, pal. I can’t, I won’t, sit back and watch you give up this amazing life you could have if I wasn’t in it. I want you to be happy.” 

“That’s fucking rich.” Steve barked out a harsh laugh. His pacing stopped and he stood stock-still to stare a Bucky. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I just want you, Buck. How can you not see that? It’s only ever been you. Even when it was just you and me in that shitty little apartment in 1936, when we were so broke we couldn’t turn on the heat. I...” Steve’s voice broke with emotion and he shook his head. 

Bucky’s chest ached, terrified of what Steve was saying. It couldn’t be. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Tears shone in Steve’s eyes. “I love you. I always have, and I guess I always will. I know you think you’re not adjusting to life now but you’ve only been here for six months. It took me a whole damn year to really get my bearings. I won’t give up on you. Not when I just got you back.” 

“How long?” Bucky cleared his rough voice, “How long have you felt that way?”

Steve shrugged, “Since forever, I guess. I’m sorry, I know you’re not-”

“I’m gay.” Bucky blurted out, cutting Steve off. “And I’ve loved you since the minute I could put a name to the feeling.” 

“Fuck.” Steve cursed, crossing the few feet to pull Bucky into his arms, “Fuck, we’re terrible at communicating.” He crashed his lips down on Bucky’s, frantic and desperate. 

It wasn’t a perfect first kiss but it was everything to Bucky. Steve’s warm palm rested on the back of Bucky’s neck, stabilizing him as he drowned in the other man. It was rough and heated and absolutely perfect. “I love you.” Bucky rasped out in between kisses, “I love so much.”

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again.” Steve pleaded against Bucky’s lips, holding him closely, “We’ll figure it out, Buck. I promise. Please.” 

Bucky trembled, tears falling with giant sobs. He was so emotionally worn out and he clung to Steve like a lifeline. “Okay. We can try.” 

It took another six months and a few extra therapy sessions, but slowly Bucky began to adapt. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick, but that was okay. Change happened slow and gentle, like dawn rising up over the city rooftops bringing warmth and light to everything it touched. They found compromises and Steve did his best to be patient with Bucky, even though sometimes he practically vibrated out of his skin with the effort to slow down. They moved Bucky into Steve’s room and adopted a fluffy white cat they both doted on endlessly. Bucky eventually found common ground with Sam and they even made a weekend trip down to DC to visit him and do some sightseeing. After seventy years of being apart, and twenty years before that hiding their feelings, being able to be openly in love felt like the biggest blessing either man could have asked for. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but they were together and that was all that really mattered. 

[professordrarry]

Drarry - “What’s the plan, Harry”

#ministry chaos, part six 

“Good morning,” Draco said to Ron, offering a coffee from the tray in his hands.

“Um…good morning?” Ron replied, puzzled. “You know it’s nine am and not lunch time, right? Did you take a Pixie to the head.” “I know, I just…owed you a coffee.” Ron sighed and stood up. “Okay, enough, Malfoy,” he complained. “Here’s what you’re going to do. He likes the museum. The big Muggle one, in the city.. It’s a bit ridiculous, actually. He looks like a little kid. Just ask him out. It’s Friday. You can handle this.” Draco sputtered for a moment. “I do not need you to… no, you know what, just piss off, Weasley.” Ron raised his hands in surrender, but pasted an infuriating smirk on at the same time. Draco’s face heated and he swallowed back the anger that was stemming from his anxiety and embarrassment. “The museum,” he stated. “You’re sure this is a good idea?” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ron laughed. “No, absolutely not. This is going to end in a disaster. But here’s the deal; he’s in the middle of changing careers and he’s so distracted he can’t even seem to close cases. So, ask him out, before I just lock you two in a room together to deal with the tension. It’s ruining my life. Now. Get out of my office. He’s not coming in today.” Draco cocked his head. “Wait, he isn’t? Why not?”  “He said something about using up his leave days just in case they decide to pull his seniority,” Ron chuckled. He straightened up a bit as though an idea had struck him. “Hey, Malfoy. You have any extra leave days.” Draco sighed, nodded, and left the room. He had an owl to send and an office to leave.

Ron had scribbled the address of Harry’s flat on a scrap of a memo about floor cleaning charms, and Draco had clutched it so hard it was barely legible by the time he found the blue front door in Maida Vale; it was way nicer than he’d anticipated.

Knocking wasn’t actually that hard. Draco, after all, liked Harry. Against all odds. He wasn’t actually a shrinking violet. It was just…. strange.

“Draco.” Harry smiled as he opened the door. “I had a feeling you’d show up. You ready to go?” Draco was flustered. “Did…did Ron call?” Harry looked back at him confused. “What? No. Why?”

Draco just stared at him. He was wearing a deep green peacoat that Draco had never seen before, and grey trousers that were far fancier than even his regular work attire.

“Where were you going?” Draco asked. “Had some errands to run. It’s fine, you can come with me,” Harry said, grinning again.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Draco blustered.

Harry shrugged. “Not particularly. It’d be nice to have some company, though. I don’t like food shops.”

Suddenly, Draco found his Last Straw. He was a student in last straws; the moments where a Malfoy finally gave up and gave in were rare and eclectic. He liked to search through the history of his family to find them. In fact, survival in his early teens had been completely predicated on the fact that there were far more damnable Last Straws in the generations that came before his than being openly gay.

Staring at Harry now, his whole stance unfazed and relaxed in his belief that Draco just would do whatever he expected him to, he finds himself in the interesting position of being able to act impulsively.

Draco is not an impulsive person but he was suddenly quite furious. How dare Potter believe that he’s the only one who can deliver shocking edicts and insufferable flirting?

When he acts, he is fully committed. He is present and entirely aware of what he is doing. This means that when Harry’s back slams into the door behind him hard enough to rattle the window in its pane and something deep within him growls in satisfaction, Draco is completely aware of it happening.

When he shoves a knee between Potter’s legs and pins him by the chest, he is acutely conscious of the sensations he is met with from his head to his groin. And when he finally leans down to kiss Harry, the sparks in his brain and the roll of his stomach are so intense that he’s not sure he isn’t going to be sick.

He doesn’t really have time to contemplate the problem, though, because suddenly Harry is present as well, groaning and murmuring “fucking finally, Malfoy” before putting significantly more effort into the kiss than Draco had been prepared for.

They remain in this embattled embrace; Draco knows they look like horny teenagers at his parent’s door after curfew. For a few minutes, he also doesn’t care. He wants to scream when the shame creeps back in, guided by the fact that Harry is now rutting ever so slightly against his knee.

“What’s the plan, Harry,” he gasps, pulling back. “Food shopping, remember?”

“Sod that,” Harry replies, reaching behind him with one hand to open the door and dragging Draco inside with him with the other. “I can starve, I don’t even care. Inside. Now.”

The door slamming makes Draco startle; he’s pretty sure neither of them had actually touched it. The spark of frenetic magic wafts into his consciousness, right before Harry pulls off his shirt in the middle of the entryway, and Draco’s consciousness decides to fully take its leave.

[meanlizard]

How Many Walls Can You Demolish

Summary: Roman and Virgil get into a bit of a situation...

Pairings: platonic prinixety? i suppose?

Words: 1,443

Warnings: light-hearted fluff, comedy, um. lots of fourth wall breaks.

When Virgil walked into the kitchen that morning, it was to find Patton staring blearily upward. He paused, watching the unusually still man, before shrugging and going to the fridge. “Morning, Pat’n,” he muttered, still sluggish as the last dredges of sleep fell away. 

Patton did not reply. Now, Virgil was worried. 

Closing the refrigerator, Virgil squinted at him, eyes gleaming suspiciously. He hadn’t moved whatsoever from his staring contest with the ceiling. “Dad?” he prompted, and when no movement followed, he traced the other’s gaze. 

A dusty spiderweb, bereft of any actual spider. A barely perceptible crack. Bland, off-white paint peeling at the edges. 

So, nothing, then. 

Virgil was now thoroughly concerned. “Patton? Are you okay, man?” as he spoke, he moved to nudge him- only to be rudely interrupted by the unfortunately familiar sound of Roman stretching out an E note with his vocal chords. 

Virgil sighed, and Roman swung into the kitchen, the brightness of his entire existence being almost unholy. His hair was brushed and pushed to the side impeccably; there was nary a wrinkle in his pristine white-and-gold garb. His sash downright shone with cleanliness. As always, the sight of him made Virgil feel suddenly very aware of himself, and he hunched further into the comfort of his hoodie. 

“Good morning, darling citizens!” Roman called flamboyantly, gracing the room with a blinding flash of pearly-white teeth. 

Virgil didn’t bother to return the greeting. 

“Roman, Patton’s acting weird.” 

And say what you would about the obnoxious, annoying, loud-mouthed, insulting, pristine, ridiculous, quick-to-judge, far-too-handsome-despite-having-the-exact-same-face, petty, and entirely empty-headed prince, but he was certainly diligent when it came to any perceived danger that Virgil brought to his attention. Immediately, his attention was on the man in question, red-brown eyes looking him up-and-down for any sign of injury. 

Finding none, he shot Virgil a strange look. The latter indicated Patton’s staring with a nod, and Roman went back to inspect him. 

Then, as if the seriousness had suddenly worn off, he made a small ah sound and relaxed. His lips turned back into that ever-annoying smirksmile (smirkle? smirle?) and he waved a flippant hand that Virgil ducked to avoid. 

“Oh, come off it, Mr. Frowny With a Chance of Meatballs,” he laughed unconcernedly, “he’s just discovered the fourth wall, is all.” 

Virgil stared. He glanced back at Patton, still entranced in whatever it was he was seeing, and then back to Roman. “The... the fourth wall,” he didn’t so much ask as he did state, voice dry and flat. It was as if someone had murdered all the inflection that could be indicative of any emotion what-so-ever, thus leaving it as nothing more than a hollow shell of it’s former sarcastic glory. 

Roman nodded. “Yes. The fourth wall.” 

Virgil took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed it, and then let his hand drop to the side. “No. Just-” he held a hand out to stop Roman’s incoming protest, and shook his head. “Just. Just no. Why are we even doing a fourth-wall breaking fic right now? It’s, like-” he turned his dead glare toward the corner of the writer’s computer screen, and shot them a quick, judgmental look before returning his attention to Roman.

“It’s 1:19 am. This came out of nowhere. And where’s Logan? We need a straight man.” 

Roman laughed. 

“Ha! Don’t you mean a-” 

Yes. Yes, Roman, I meant a gay man. Because you are all gay. 

Roman pouted, joke thoroughly ruined. Virgil smiled a little. Patton stared at the ceiling. Where was Logan? Working, probably. Or, rather, simply not there because the stress of adding yet another character to this catastrophe was simply too difficult for the writer to handle. 

“Would you stop that?” Virgil asked, exasperated. “I was willing to go along with this because you writers have no sense of time-” he stared, accusingly, at the various other writers in the fandom (some of which may be named Marin, Taylor, Vanna and Kat, but who’s to say), “but this is ridiculous. Too much of a good thing can be sh*t, you know!”

“Woah, slow your roll Paint Tool Sigh of Despair! This is a PG show!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Is that why all of your nicknames suck today?” 

Roman recoiled as if physically stricken. “How dare you,” he gasped. “You know that’s not my fault. If anyone, we should blame the author’s creativity.”

Both sides turned, in unison, toward the dining table set up in the middle of the kitchen. The author’s Creativity was munching on a bagel, muttering in between bites as darkened glasses slipped down their round nose. Their hands, trembling, translucent things so clear you could see the very details of their veins, were thoroughly occupied; one was shakily rewriting a scene for the thousandth time with one, while the other crumpled up yet another drawing to start anew, and a third- a third? no- a fourth??? - shakily fidgeted with the rim of a mug full of a sludgy black liquid that could almost pass for coffee. 

As if sensing their stares, one dead, sleep-lined blue eye peered up at them, and they immediately turned away. 

There was silence. Then, Virgil released a shaky breath. “Roman,” he said, very quietly. 

“Yes, Virgil?” the uncharacteristically solemn Roman prompted. 

“I never thought I’d say this, but... I am so glad that you exist.”

“Dit-to my good sir. Dit-to.” 

Unsure why Roman said ditto in such an odd way, but still reeling from the creature that continued to scribble ominously on their kitchen table, Virgil decided to let it go and turn back to the problem at hand. Which, if you would kindly consult the paragraph far, far above this one, was Patton’s worrying stillness. 

“I thought he already knew about the fourth wall,” Virgil mentioned contemplatively, turning back to his (admittedly) favorite blue-clad side. Roman shrugged, clearly unconcerned, and moved to the fridge to take a carton of milk from it.

“Guess not. It doesn't really matter, though- he just needs some time," he reassured. "I mean, all we can do is just sit around and wait for him to process... well. Everything.”

Virgil was still largely unconvinced. 

Roman, glancing over at him as he poured some milk in some nondescript glass, noticed and let out a breath of slight exasperation. 

“Look,” he started in his best mollifying voice as he screwed the cap back on, “We’ve all been there. It took me five hours, and Mr. Roboto spent an entire three days completely out of it. It’s lucky that we’re just figments of a personality, and that food is just a thing authors use to humanize us further even in non-AU’s, or else he’d be in pretty big trouble.”

Virgil raised a brow, and Roman nodded. “Right, right. Off track, I know. But I'm just saying- don’t you remember going through this?” 

Virgil’s face, which had previously been rathee blank and slightly irritated (as was it’s usual state), suddenly became impossibly blanker. His eyes lost any gleam of life, expression falling into nothing but a wooden ghost of its previous humanity.

“I have always been aware of our entirely superficial existence since the day I was made. The continuous existential horror has made it hard to form any real relationship with any of you until now. Even then, a lot of our deep bond comes from the various universes and situations that fans throw us in. Roman, right now we are making out on a rooftop in New York. I have super powers. Logan is an empath, and he’s a royal tutor. We are having this conversation right now. There is no reality for us. We just do as we’re written to do. It is an ever continual source of anxiety for me, but one that I am used to, have always been used to, and will continue to be used to. So, I suppose the answer to your question is ‘no’. I do not.”

Roman stared. Virgil stared back. Roman looked up to re-read the paragraph, and, having finally processed it, turned back to Virgil. Wordlessly, he handed him the glass of milk. 

No words could be said, and a hug simply felt too awkward for them at this point in time and at this moment in this particular universe, so it was all he could offer. Virgil understood, because he could read just as well as you, and agreed with Roman’s emotions on the matter. 

As he took a sip, he felt indescribably touched. 

Patton, as if roused by the emotional scene, suddenly shifted. Both Roman and Virgil turned to look at him, eyes wide as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have, but Patton was just grinning, bright and unconcerned and... normal. Not at all the expression of someone who had just discovered that they weren't real and that choice was a neverending illusion.

“It’s as I thought,” he said, and his voice sounded relieved. “There aren’t any spiders there after all.” 

Virgil breathed. He thought, very seriously, about screaming. He carefully did not, instead bringing the cool glass of milk to his lips and taking a long, long drink of it.

He took a deep breath. Smiled.

"That's good, Patton."

general tag list: 

@princelogical

@smokeyrutilequartz

@kickthecel

@fangirlfiles1

@do-rey-me

@peanut0303

@cyndaquil17

@lady-literature

@anastasialestina

@i-will-physically-fight-you

@ironwoman359

[love-for-ever-more]

I wanna feel love: Part 8

The heavy downpour had stopped, it was only drizzling now but the continuous rumble of the thunders made it evident that this was only temporary. Freddie put on his coat and his square-heeled boots, blew a loving kiss to John who was still sleeping on the couch, took his umbrella and minced down the street as if his tight, black, leather pants were a perfectly fitted catsuit, made especially for him.

"Like a cat that actually enjoys being wet.." he chuckled.

John had kept him in his arms all night long and he had felt safe and protected, after a long time. 'Is it possible..? Could John like..me? Could he be gay? He wouldn't stay there, all night if he didn't feel anything for me..would he? Why would he stay if he doesn't feel anything for me?' he asked himself again. He didn't know what to think.. 'John was there..with me. All night long.'

He had to do something.. 'My God! Did I get a crush on him already?' he wondered as he entered the first shop.

He had decided to go shopping, on the spur of the moment when he finished his bath. Some new, fancy clothes.. perhaps he could try and stimulate a long glance or a compliment from John.

He tried on several pairs of pants, before buying two of them, which both were skin tight but at different textiles and colors. He smiled contently at his image when he put on a pair of pants in a warm burgundy shade, velvet one and decided to buy it, at once. His smile grew bigger when he thought of John's look seeing him wear them. The second pair was made of black latex. "Is it too provocative? too slutty, dear?" Freddie asked a woman who was staring at him, but he needn't really care for her answer. He saw how gorgeously they brought out the athletic shape of his body so, naturally, he bought them.

He peacocked in front of the full-length mirrors to give a full view of his body to all customers, wearing each one of them just like a peacock that funs out its magnificent feathers when more people are around and he even made a small bow to thank the people for watching his special performance.

He still had to find out if John liked him not just as a very good friend but liked him- liked him...and he prayed his instinct was correct.

'Why did he get aroused if he isn't into me? ...into men?' he kept asking himself. 'Do I have to show him that I'm gay? Of course, I have to... somehow...show him. Or better, I have to tell him.' 'I also have to learn more about his relationship with Veronica... how are they getting along with each other?' 'Besides, why didn't he go to her place last night and stayed with me?' '..and...' he paused to swallow 'Why did he tell all those beautiful, amazing and sooo poetic words to me... if he doesn't feel anything for me? You don't speak like that to a friend... I couldn't imagine Bri or Rog talk to me, the way John did..' 'I didn't even thank him...for them' he sighed.

When Freddie left the shop, it had started raining again. He, nonetheless, chose to walk to the small Asian restaurant instead of getting a taxi. He had, recently, found out that walking in the rain was actually quite relaxing and invigorating to him -though he wouldn't dare leave his umbrella behind and ruin his hair-.

'Maybe I should come out to him after I ask him about his relationship and.. or before I ask?' he thought. 'Oh! maybe I'll ask Rog or Bri to ask him about Veronica.. after I come out to them, first.' 'What happens if he doesn't like me back and all this was a misunderstanding?' 'Maybe I have to come out to him and then... maybe he'll come out, too.'

Freddie shook his head.. too confused to keep his thoughts in order...

"I'll come out to him.." he sighed "and.. if he's gay.. I'll tell him that I like him. The real question is 'does he like me?' " he mumbled, as he slowed down his pace. A flicker of desire flashed across his face when he whispered again, "I like him... oh my God! Two days ago I wouldn't imagine of coming out.. and accept the fact that I like guys and now...I like him! now look at me!" he grinned. "A new me!" he laughed loud enough for an old man to hear and turn his head to stare at him. But Freddie didn't care... he put his umbrella down and clapped his hands twice to congratulate himself.

"Have a great day, dear!" he wished, heartily, giving a wide grin to the old man. He, then, picked up his umbrella and continued his walk.

He entered the restaurant and ordered a glass of water with some lemon. It was a 12:40 pm.

'It's amazing what a few drops of what we're longing for, can do to us... right Freddie? It only takes a moment of realization and everything can change so drastically..' his heart asked him.

But it wasn't just that... Freddie could now perceive John's interest, during the years they know each other. John always asked for Freddie's opinion, he was always considerate towards him and he always cared for Freddie's well-being. They never argued with each other except this one time when they had their first gig with John on board. Freddie had insisted on him wearing a "ridiculous outfit" as he had said and he refused to wear it. But in the end, John complied with Freddie's taste and... that was it. He never argued with Freddie again for any reason and he always supported him, even when he was being unreasonable, according to Brian.

Plus, he could now understand better why John was nervous when Freddie complimented his playing or his appearance or why he blushes when they sit next to each other and Freddie happens to touch his hand or his leg... "How could I be so blatantly stupid?" he groaned and took a sip from his drink... "How didn't I notice all that before?" he sighed in disbelief.

Of course, he could also remember the fact that John had never introduced them a girl as his girlfriend. Freddie had thought that he was too shy to ask a girl out... 'he had numerous chances to date any girl but he preferred to spend his nights at home..' he thought. 'Until I decided to play fucking Cupid and introduce Veronica to him...' he sighed again.

"Stupid!" he cursed under his breath and looked at his watch. It was 01:35 pm and John hadn't come. He asked to pay his bill, eager to return home.

Freddie opened the door, as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake John up in case he was still sleeping. But, he was greeted by an empty couch and much more to his disappointment by an empty house. The fire was put out long ago and it was rather cold in there.

He went up straight to his room to put on the tightest of his new pants, the latex one, determined to keep flirting with John. He paired them with a red t-shirt with a deep v-neck, sprayed himself with his cologne and got down to the sitting room. He took a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch to wait for him.

He was bored to death, he never really liked it when he was alone. He loved having friends around, laughing, discussing or playing games. He missed Roger and Brian as he couldn't stand being in an empty room. He turned on the radio and called some friends he hadn't seen or spoken to for a while. Then, he tried twice to put on the fire in the fireplace before a tiny flame appears and make him feel quite proud of his achievement. He took another beer and he decided to take another shower.

"John!" he exclaimed and sprang from his seat as soon as he heard the door open. "I've been worried for you, dear! Where have you been all-" he froze in his place when he saw Veronica about to enter the sitting room followed by a very happy John.

"Freddie, you seriously have to stop being so overprotective of my boyfriend!" Veronica laughed.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't know you would meet Veronica" he mumbled and ducked his head out of embarrassment. "Of course, how silly of me..." he ended, giving a shy side smile. He felt his heart sink, by seeing them together. 'They were together... they spent the day together' Freddie thought and suddenly he felt his mood change.

"How are you? John told me you had a fever yesterday." she said as she took off her coat and passed it to John.

"I'm good now... Thanks." Freddie answered "John was kind enough to stay with me and help me" he said, smiling faintly at John, who was standing behind her.

"He is an angel, isn't he?" she smiled widely and turned to look at John.

Freddie nodded slightly, watching Veronica as she took John's hand in hers. A pang of jealousy spread inside him when he saw her kissing him tenderly on his lips. 'Is it worth trying to test John? Would any good come out of it?'  he wondered and wrinkled his nose. His eyes flicked from Veronica to John and back again. They were holding hands now as she was saying something that Freddie couldn't hear.

"...we had lunch together and then Johnny insisted on taking me for a walk around the city because it would be romantic... you know, with the rain and all" she said turning to Freddie again.

Freddie suddenly realized he has held his gaze too long on them "Oh! You had lunch together..." he repeated absent mindedly, scratching his forehead as he lowered his head once more.

"Yes! John called me this morning and he wanted to make up for standing me up yesterday so, we met soon after." Veronica said with a huge grin on her face as she took a seat on the couch, pulling John from his hand to sit next to her.

Freddie stepped away from the couch. He stood beside the fireplace, grabbing a magazine from a nearby shelf. He started flipping through the pages without actually paying attention to their content or listening to Veronica.

He had to try and hide his disappointment... This wasn't what he had imagined. 'Was I wrong?' he wondered again. 'Was everything a misunderstanding?' his lips were pressed together in a firm line as his mind kept asking the same questions over and over again.

"Freddie?" John's voice made him blink.

"Yes..." he muttered.

"Where are you?" John asked and looked up to him. "are you alright?"

"I... I was thinking of ... something" Freddie said, throwing the mag on the floor. He lit up a cigarette and grabbed his beer from the coffee table. He emptied the bottle and rushed to the kitchen, returning with another one in his hand. "It took me half an hour to put on the fucking fire... and now I'm burning..." he said all of a sudden, tossing his hair. He felt the latex pants stuck on his body. He was sweating and he was jealous. 'Will anything go according to my fucking plan?' he thought and sighed. He glanced at John who was sitting there looking at him without saying anything. "Veronica, dear" he breathed in "what were you saying?

"Umm.. I was just saying that we didn't realise that the time passed so quickly... we...we had a very nice time.." Veronica said with eyes gleaming of satisfaction having John smiling at her.

"How nice..." Freddie mumbled with his cheeks sucked in as he started making some air with the magazine, on his face.

"Freddie, do you want me to open the window?" John asked, turning his head and staring at Freddie.

"Yeah.. thank you" Freddie looked at him and smiled shyly, happy to see that John's attention wasn't turned one hundred percent to Veronica. He needed to know that he wasn't invisible to John.

"So, how did you spend your day?" he asked and stood next to him.

"I went... for a walk too."

"Just for a walk?" John chuckled and raised his eyebrows.

Freddie licked his lips nervously "Yeah! I didn't meet anyone." he assured him and shook his head, anxious to see if John had believed him.

"Ok..." John laughed and turned to close the window. Freddie didn't understand if John believed him or not.

"Why don't you call Mary to join us? We can have dinner together and... since John asked me to spend the night here, you won't be alone, Freddie." Veronica asked.

Before either of them got to answer, she had gotten up and pulled John in for a passionate kiss. She pinned him against the window and planted her lips on his.

Freddie's eyes widened as he was caught off guard. He suddenly felt like he was gonna blew up. How was it possible to be so jealous of Veronica from one day to another? His feet froze on the ground and he felt his stomach turn into a knot. 'Oh God, I'm in love with John!' he realized and blinked his eyes. And John was with someone else. His breath stuck in his throat and his lips went dry. He fixed his stare on John who seemed to be taken by surprise, too, by Veronica's action.

And then John did something that left Freddie quite speechless. He slightly, turned his body so he could have Freddie right across him, opened his eyes and took a full view of him, from head to toes, while Veronica was clenching her lips on his.

He saw John pause his stare on his tight pants, for a moment and then let them wander on his perfectly-shaped body. Freddie parted his lips to breath. A naughty smirk appeared on his face as he tilted his head slightly up.

The look John gave him was enough to raise Freddie's hopes again. The longing look on John's eyes seemed so familiar to Freddie -he could remember all those times when John looked at him with such eyes- and yet it felt so new and fresh and stimulating at the same time...

"Did I provoke that ?"  Freddie's eyes beamed "it feels so good..." He took a step back and leaned his body on the side of the armchair, without drawing his eyes from John's.

"Hey...ok" he heard him babble against Veronica's mouth, trying to escape from her grasp. When he finally did so, he took a step to the side.

"Um yeah.. sorry Freddie" she said out of breath and turned to face him. "I guess...I got carried away"

"Hm? No no. It's...fine, dear." Freddie mumbled and cast a glance at John as his face flushed red. His eyes were gleaming. 'I can still test him' he thought. 'I can.'

John cleared his throat, "I was thinking of making pasta with Mexican sauce, Freddie, would you like to join us?"

"Sure..." he shrugged his shoulders, "I'm starving!"

"Have you eaten anything for lunch?"

"Um..." I only had a couple of beers or maybe more.." he said and started giggling. "I guess I forgot-"

"You should take more care of yourself, besides you didn't need to go out today..." John said but he didn't mean it as a rebuke.

"I-I had to" Freddie said quietly, as he looked down letting his hair cover the sly smirk that appeared on his face. He was enjoying John's attention. He had missed it, actually. Yesterday, he had tasted a piece of it and now he was craving for more.

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Veronica interrupted again, pinching John's cheeks with his fingers. "You are so protective with him!" she laughed. "You should've listened to him, Freddie, he kept talking about you all day!" she said again and kissed his cheek. "Freddie this, Freddie that..."

"Vera!" John laughed shyly as he glanced at Freddie. The singer glanced back at the same time, pressing his lips together as he tried to hide his grin. "Anyway..." he said, "let's make dinner".

Freddie sat comfortably on the armchair, pleased with what he had heard from Veronica. John was talking about him when he was with her. Plus, he eyed him that way. "Nice to know"  he chuckled.

"John! I haven't cleaned the kitchen" he called.

John laughed. "Yes I can see that!" he called back, "You can do it now!"

"Oh well... ok" he sighed, looking at Veronica. "Would you care to help me, then? we'll finish earlier together... or it'll take me a year!" he said, and got up and strutting to the kitchen. He stood at the door and glanced back at Veronica, "why don't you watch some t.v. dear? we'll be over soon" and with that, he closed the door behind him.

He leaned his back on the fridge, looking around. He could still, test John. There was hope. John was standing near the sink holding out the apron for him.

"So," Freddie began tilting his head slightly to the right and looking at John through heavy leaded lashes. His heart was biting fast and he was feeling a bit dizzy due to the beers he had drunk "you had a nice day,  as I heard" he said and hiccuped, "and Veronica is staying here tonight."

"Um yeah, it was good" John mumbled and turned to the sink. He wore the apron without thinking about it and started to do the dishes.

Freddie smiled widely and walked slowly to John. He sat on the counter, crossing his legs and looking at John with a smirk on his face. 'he didn't answer the second part...' he thought. He imagined himself pin John against the counter and licked his lips sensually. "And... how are things between you two, dear?" he asked, flashing him a grin.

John turned his head to him. "We're good, we're fine" he said sternly and turned his head again.

Freddie suppressed a smile and decided to push a little further. "She looks infatuated with you, I can tell. But what about you? are you in love with her?" he asked, letting another hiccup.

"Freddie are you drunk?" John asked back and dried his hands with a towel. "How many beers have you had?"

Freddie giggled. "Not many" he said, throwing his head back as he let a deep sigh.

"Is everything ok?" John asked when he saw Freddie stare at the floor, looking a bit sullen himself, all of a sudden. He could sense that something was bothering him and he didn't like it.

Freddie dismissed his question with a wave of his hand and got up from his position. He stretched his body, pulling his t-shirt a little up to rub his stomach with his right hand. "I'm starving!" he said and opened his eyes to see John staring at his hand touching his body.

John averted his eyes from Freddie and took a step back, biting his lip.

"Perhaps you want to go back to your girlfriend until I clean the floor?" Freddie said with a side smirk.

"Um no it's fine."

"Then perhaps you want a beer?"

"Yeah, why not?"

He took two beers from the fridge and opened them sitting on the counter again.

John started swiping the floor.

"Quite a mess down here" he joked and heard Freddie giggle again.

"Imagine what would happen if I tried to make pasta..." he laughed. Oh! There's one over there."  Freddie pointed with his finger somewhere on the floor.

"Where?"

Freddie got up and walked to the opposite corner. He bent forward, pushing his chubby butt up with grace and picked up a forgotten kernel. "Here!" he smiled at John. You missed this one." He placed the kernel on John's hand with a naughty smile.

John looked him up from head to toes again, lustfully just like some minutes ago. "Why did you leave without waking me up?" he asked without knowing why.

"Why didn't you join me?" Freddie asked back as if he hadn't heard of John's question.

He moved a step closer and stopped right in front of John, tilting his head slightly back keeping his lips partly open. He felt John tense up but he didn't move from his position. 'Kiss me...' Freddie wished and let his hand brush on John's hand, for an instance.

They stayed there, in silence, feeling the tension between them as they stared at each other, breathing heavily. John's mind searched for an hint at what Freddie meant with his question but he couldn't understand and having Freddie so close to him, made his mind stop working. He had to swallow hard when he felt Freddie's hand touching his own and he was afraid that if he stayed there, some inches away from him, Freddie would sense his uneasiness. He also had to fight his growing erection. 'Sweet Lord' John mumbled under his breath. Yet John didn't move back.

He stayed there, breathing hard, until "Veronica is waiting for you..." Freddie said suddenly, with a sly look and took a small step back.

John blinked his eyes and scratched the back of his head nervously. "Yeah.. I'll be there a minute." he said "The dinner will be ready shortly."

Freddie walked slowly to the door.

"Where did you go this morning?" John asked and grabbed Freddie's hand to stop him.

"I...I had some shopping to do" Freddie looked back and smiled.

"Oh yeah? What for?" John asked again and Freddie's smile turned into a grin when John fixed his eyes at the lower part of his body.

'So...he did notice...' Freddie thought. "Well..." he licked his lips and left the room, leaving John staring.

[paradoxicalpatton]

Coffee and Flowers

Title: Coffee and Flowers (Only temporary!) Summary: Patton is a father who runs a flower shop across the road from a small coffee shop. He decides to start getting a daily coffee every morning and immediately falls for the cute barista. Pairings: Logicality, background Prinxiety. Trigger Warnings: None, will edit if necessary. Chapter: 2 Word Count: 2091 Taglist: @my-happy-little-bean @toujours-fidele @preyed-llama @a-valorous-choice @milomeepit @ironwoman359 @painfullybisexual @princey-in-a-feminine-way @sassysoysauce @headachechris (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!) Author’s Notes: I procrastinated writing this for god knows how long but I hope y’all enjoy it! Chapter Excerpt: They entered the warm store, the cool breeze leaving them as the door closed slowly. Patton walked up to the counter, feeling Thomas’ hand tighten around his own, he always got nervous going to new places.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

“Dad! You wouldn’t bee-lieve what I learnt today!” Patton was restocking some daffodils when Thomas came running into the store, his smile bigger than ever. Thomas rushed into the back room, dumping his backpack on a stool by the door and grabbing the apron his father had made for him, before running back out to Patton, asking him to tie it for him. Patton knelt down so he could help Thomas tie his apron, it had taken him months searching tutorials on how to make one and he spent hours learning how to draw the perfect bumblebee, however, Thomas cherished it either way. As the two ran the store Thomas told Patton everything he’d learnt about bees, like how bees have two stomachs, or how they have five eyes, and Patton hung on to every word he said. Eventually it was time to close up shop, both Patton and Thomas moved quickly, packing away the items that needed to be stored in the back room overnight, and emptying the register. Before they left Patton picked Thomas up, sitting him on his hip, so he could flip around the ‘Open’ sign, it was Thomas’ favourite part of the afternoon. As they left the store Patton glanced over to the coffee shop, catching another glimpse of the handsome barista.

As well as being a good shop owner, Patton was also an excellent cook. Of course he couldn’t make a lot of things but the stuff he did know was definitely tasty. Thomas loved helping his father whenever he could, so when dinner time came along he was bouncing off the walls with excitement. Patton usually had Thomas wash the vegetables, help mash the potatoes, or even set the table. Neither of them minded that it was just the two of them, it gave them more time to spend with one another. On nights when Thomas was feeling anxious or a little sad they would build a pillow fort in the lounge room, watching countless Disney movies after making homemade pizza. Tonight, however, they were making spaghetti, both of their favourites.

“Hey Thomas?” Patton had placed the bowls down on the small dining table, sitting next to a happy Thomas.

“Yeah Dad?” Thomas glanced up at Patton, cutting of the conversation he was having with his bee plushie that sat on the table.

“Do you remember Mrs. Davidson?” Thomas nodded vigorously, Mrs. Davidson always gave him lollies when Patton wasn’t looking. “Good. Well, she suggested that we sell your flower pots in the shop. Do you think you could paint more if I gave you extra pocket money?” Patton spoke hopefully as Thomas ate his dinner, the sound of Thomas’ spoon falling filling the room.

“Really? You wanna sell my pots!” Thomas began bouncing happily in his seat, his smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Of course, but only if you’re ok with it.” Patton leant forward, cupping Thomas’ cheek in his hand.

“Yeah! Can i paint bees on all of them?” Thomas grabbed his bee plushie and hugged it close to his chest, smiling at his father.

“You can paint whatever you want on them, kiddo!” Patton grinned as Thomas hugged him, the plushie squished between them. Eventually Thomas pulled back, allowing them both to eat their dinner, most of time Thomas would talk about bees and how he wanted to help them.

“Dad?”

“Yes Thomas?”

“Why are you so happy today?” Patton stared at Thomas, a stunned look on his face. What was he supposed to say to that? Oh it’s nothing, just the cute guy at the coffee shop. He couldn’t say that to Thomas, he was his son!

“No reason, I just had a joke stuck in my head!” Thomas watched Patton as he played with his pasta, not believing what he was told.

“But you always have jokes stuck in your head. Was it another boy!” Thomas leant forward, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. How was Patton going to tell him? He couldn’t, not after- not after the last one.

“No, no, it wasn’t a boy. I just love learning about bees!” This, of course, caused Thomas to forget about their conversation and start ranting about bees again. Patton wasn’t concerned so much about Thomas knowing he was gay, he just didn’t want Thomas to see him hurt again. Before Patton had adopted Thomas, he’d dated a guy named Dorian. Dorian treated Patton like a king, whispering sweet nothings to him, saying he loved Patton. Then he tore Patton apart, he ruined him. He manipulated Patton and broke him in ways he couldn’t understand. It took Patton years before he could feel safe around anyone but his best friend, and even then his friend left him to pursue Broadway. But he has Thomas now, he had someone who loved him and depended on him, he had to protect his son. And if that meant hiding the fact that he thought a guy was cute then that’s what he would do. Thomas knew he dated Dorian, he knew that Patton liked boys, he just didn’t know how broken his father really was. And Patton was going to keep it that way. The two finished their dinner in peace, washing up their dishes before heading to bed early.

The next morning was eventful to say the least. Patton had decided that after having to clean up Thomas after he was sick last night that the tiny bee enthusiast was staying home. Thomas did not like that one bit, usually he would love to stay home and help Patton in the shop, but once again his teacher was teaching the class about bees and Thomas wanted to be there. So it had shocked Patton when he was shaken awake by Thomas, who was dressed and ready for school. It took him half an hour to convince Thomas that he wouldn’t be missing out on much, plus Thomas knew more about bees than anyone in his class. Eventually the two left for the flower shop, they’d decided to walk that day since Thomas’ car sickness wouldn’t help with the flu he already had. Before they opened ‘Once and Floral’, Patton had detoured across to the coffee shop. If he had a sick Thomas with him then he would definitely need a coffee to keep him focused, well, that and he kind of wanted to see the nameless guy that had plagued his thoughts. They entered the warm store, the cool breeze leaving them as the door closed slowly. Patton walked up to the counter, feeling Thomas’ hand tighten around his own, he always got nervous going to new places. The barista looked up, doing a double-take when he realised who was in front of him. But of course, the man was straight, he had a child for god's sake! What made him think he had a chance? Nonetheless, he still gave Patton a small smirk, the corners of his lips barely lifting up.

“Good morning, what can I get for you today?” Patton tore his eyes away from the menu, daring to look at the man in front of him.

“Uh- hello again, you wouldn’t remember what I ordered yesterday would you?” Thomas squeezed his dad’s hand, rocking back and forth on his heels as he did.

“How could I forget, you were the one who’d forgotten their wallet.” Patton felt his cheeks heat up, ok, so the cute guy remembered him, who cares. Patton, obviously.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I’ve got it today though!” Patton grinned as the barista let out a soft chuckle, it sounded just as beautiful as he looked, it was deep, and a little raspy but boy did Patton want to hear it again.

“Alright, one tall caramel macchiato, is that all?” By now Thomas had wandered off to the pastry cabinet, he knew his father wouldn’t buy him anything if he was ill. Patton nodded to the question and paid for his drink, reminding the barista one more of his name, ‘Oh, just Patton again!’, before spinning around to find Thomas. But he was not prepared for who he’d seen next. Thomas was jumping up and down around a tall man who wore a white jacket and knitted red wool scarf, just like the scarf Patton had knit for his best friend all those years ago.

“Roman?” Patton stepped forward, both Thomas and the mystery man turning to look at the person who spoke.

“Hey Pat, you didn’t miss me too much did you?”

In that moment time had stopped, and Patton had forgotten about Thomas and his new crush. He rushed forward, melting in the warm embrace he’d longed for for years. Roman wrapped his strong arms around the shorter man, immediately remembering everything they’d been through. First loves, first heartbreaks, they were each other’s first kiss, Patton was the one who helped him rehearse for every play, and Roman was the one who helped Patton buy his flower shop. Logan watched along from behind the coffee machine, looks like the cute dad did like guys, except he already had a boyfriend. He was finishing Patton’s coffee when Virgil walked in, jumping up to sit on the counter in front of his nerdy brother. The two talked about Virgil’s studies as Logan shuffled over to the pastry cabinet, placing a blueberry muffin on the plate he was holding. Thomas’ eyes lit up as he saw the barista walking towards him, Patton’s coffee and a muffin in hand.

“Caramel macchiato for ‘Just Patton’-” Logan placed the coffee on the table the other three were sitting at, turning to look at the bouncing child behind him. “-And a blueberry muffin for you.” Thomas’ smile widened as Logan put the plate down, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I didn’t order a muffin, there must be a-” Patton glanced up at the still nameless man he was crushing on, and boy was he more handsome up close.

“No, no. It’s on the house, I noticed him staring at the cabinet earlier.” Logan let out a quiet chuckle, remembering how cute Thomas had looked a few minutes ago.

“Uh, thank you then, Mr.?” Patton stared into his chocolate eyes, awaiting the reveal of the beautiful barista.

“Woods, Logan Woods. And your friends are?” Logan felt himself heat up as he looked at Patton, noticing the freckles that were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.

“Ah yes! This is Thomas, he’s my son, but you already guessed that. And this is Roman, you didn’t know his name?” Thomas moved over in the booth seat his was kneeling on, letting Logan slide in next to him.

“No I’m afraid I didn’t, he prefered the name ‘Prince’.” Patton let out a laugh as Roman looked at the father with a shocked look on his face.

“What’s so funny pouty mc specs?” Patton turned to look at Roman, failing to contain the giggles.

“Of course you still go by Prince, you’re so dramatic.” Roman cried out, throwing his hand across his forehead. As the two argued playfully back and forth Thomas tugged on the sleeve of Logan’s shirt, successfully gaining his attention. Logan looked down at the boy who was holding out a bit of the muffin he’d broken off, Thomas grinned as Logan took the offering, nearly moaning in delight at the taste. Blueberry muffins were definitely his favourite. Once he’d finished the small piece Thomas tore one off for himself, before offering another to Logan, which he gladly accepted.

“Sorry about that Logan, Roman can get quite passionate. I hope Thomas hasn’t been a bother.” Patton looked over to Logan and Thomas, smiling at the two sharing the muffin.

“Oh no he’s-” Logan finished eating the remaining muffin in his mouth before speaking again. “-Pardon me. But yes, Thomas was fine, not a bother in the slightest.” Before Patton could say anymore Virgil walked over, sitting himself on Logan’s lap. Throughout the coffee shop cries of protest could be heard from underneath Virgil as Logan struggled to push him off. Patton watched and felt his heart sting, of course he had a boyfriend.

“Anyway, thank you for the muffin but we should go open up shop. Come on Thomas.” Thomas slipped under the table crawling out the other side and grabbing his father's hand.

“Stop by anytime Ro.” Patton leant down, kissing the top of Roman’s head before leaving to his own store.

As much as Logan hated to see him leave, he loved to watch him go.