#I DECLARE THESE FRY COOK GAMES

[anisespice]

🗣️‼️YALL MY COMMUNITY IS UP ‼️🗣️

they say it’s in beta version, so albeit it won’t be perfect, i would be so so so happy to connect w/ yall and talk hq, tokyorev, or any other anime :))

it was mainly centered around being a space for POC/BIPOC creators but anyone can join really — we don’t discriminate 😌✨

hope yall consider lil ole me n my community 🥹🤲🏾

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

[graphicabyss]

I'm not a Patron and don't care about PUBG but I still like watching Patreon games for the banter. It's like a reality show of good men hanging out. Perhaps my favourite spot of last night was the part where Rowan solemnly declared he was planning on cooking chicken stir-fry and Adam and Ben proceeded to tease him for his underwhelming cooking skills, but then of course being actually good friends that they are they threw a whole lotta advice at him. It was weirdly heartwarming and fun. Adam going, "Oh, bro! Don't be silly! Do not air-fry it! Put it in the pan first. And don't forget to mince the garlic and add some sesame oil" before saying he's proud of Rowan. That's the bro talk we need in this world. I'd clip it but it feels a bit extra.

[paleparearchive]

Slapstick Cooking!

Delacroix's Cooking 4★ story (2/3) ( 1 - 2 - 3 )

Location: kitchen (morning) | Characters: Delacroix, Aoi/MC

Aoi: In the recipe book, it seems relatively easy to make…

Delacroix-kun, the menu for today is omelette and salad, okay?

Delacroix: I don't care. There's nothin' in particular that I can't eat.

Aoi: Understood. I'll make it soon, so you'll have to wait, Delacroix-kun.

First... Prepare the ingredients... H-Huh? Where did Millet-kun put the vegetables?

Delacroix: … Ain't it the ones on the other end?

Aoi: Ah, here they are…! Thank you, Delacroix-kun!

Paprika… Hm? Is it this green bell paprika? Or is it a bell pepper? Which one…?

Delacroix: (Sure, they're similar, but how could she be confused? Even I can figure it out.)

Aoi: Hmmm…

Delacroix: (She's holdin' a vegetable in each hand, and she's frozen in place…)

Hey, ya okay?

Aoi: Of course! Because bell peppers and paprika are like relatives, so if you fry them they're the same!

Delacroix: No, that's wrong!

Aoi: Is that so? But, well, there is Millet-kun's recipe book. If I make it like this, it should be fine!

Delacroix: You're outta the game when ya have the wrong vegetable! Paprika's the one you're holdin' in your right hand!

Aoi: Ah, this one. Okay then, I'll slice this paprika into rounds… Heya!

Delacroix: (Woah, how coarsely is she cuttin' 'em… Is it really gonna be okay?)

Aoi: Phew, is this about right? I think I did a good job.

Delacroix: (Well, she seems to have the will to do it. I'll just leave it to her for now.)

—

Aoi: Now that the prep work is done, it's time to cook... What, a preheated frying pan…!? Uh, where was it written... It's not heated…

Delacroix: …

Aoi: Can it be done without heat? ... No, it's better to follow the recipe here.

How hot do I need to heat it? Uhm… Uuuuh, what's the right temperature! How much is "moderate"? If you put vegetables in it, will it sizzle or…?

Delacroix: …

(... Haaah, can't help it.)

—

Aoi: Ah… I ran out of kitchen paper. I think it was in the cupboard. Here it is…

(Ugh, I can't reach it. Maybe it's in the back… I'm almost there, if I manage to reach out and…)

Delacroix: This one?

Aoi: Woah! Delacroix-kun…!? W-When did you get next to me… You scared me… What's wrong?

Delacroix: I couldn't stand watchin' this. I'll do it too.

Aoi: (I've declared that I was going to cook a delicious meal, but to be honest, I'm starting to doubt if I can make it properly on my own…)

Thank you, you're a great help. The aprons are over here, I think... Yes, use this one.

Delacroix: I don't need it. Aprons don't rock.

Aoi: Really? I think you'd better put it on…

Delacroix: I'm tellin' ya it's fine. So, what do ya want me to do?

Aoi: Then I'll have you wash the vegetables for the salad. I'll put the vegetables there, please.

[jazzymongoose]

Commissions are still open!

Just a friendly reminder I still have three slots left if anyone is interested! My price chart and information is on @jazzymongoosecommisions

[scar22201]

i declare these Fry cook Games…OPEN!!!

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?�� he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

with friends like these

Summary: Apollo gets his wisdom teeth out, and Clay babysits.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

"Apollo, buddy. Buddy. You gotta lie back down."

Apollo blinks owlishly at Clay, swaying in place in the middle of the kitchen. God, Clay would feel better if he at least had the sense to lean against the counter. "But I want coffee."

"No coffee for you," Clay says, forcing himself to be stern despite the dreading anticipation of the way Apollo's expression falls, comically sad. AJ always looks younger than he is, as a big brave twenty-year-old, but the sad little pout while he's out of his mind on painkillers, cheeks swollen from surgery? He looks like he's twelve. Adorable. Clay feels bad for him, he really does—he got his own wisdom teeth out last year and he remembers how much it sucked—but the little baby pout just makes him want to smile. "You'll wind yourself up something good, sunshine."

"It's not that much caffeine," Apollo tries to say, even as he lets Clay catch him by the arm and pull him, stumbling, out of the kitchenette. "An' it would make me feel more awake."

"You don't need to feel more awake, you need to rest."

"But I've got stuff to do," Apollo says, mournfully. Clay manages to wrangle him back over to the couch and nudge him back down onto the cushions. Apollo makes doe eyes up at him while Clay grabs the nearest blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "I gotta work on my readings—"

"It's winter break, you don't have readings."

"But next semester."

"You don't have any advance readings yet. You checked and told me so before the surgery."

"I have to stay ahead," Apollo says. His eyelids droop. "I gotta be good at my classes so I can be a good lawyer."

"You're gonna be a great lawyer. But you aren't a lawyer yet, and you don't have any classes right now, so just take it easy, okay?"

Apollo opens his eyes again to peer back up at Clay. "My mouth hurts."

"I know. Sorry, buddy. Not time for more painkillers yet. You want me to grab you the ice pack again? Get the rest of your shake?"

Apollo nods, still looking glum. Clay dutifully returns to the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, which he wraps in a kitchen towel, and the rest of Apollo's post-surgery chocolate shake out of the fridge. When he gets back out to the living room, Apollo has toppled over to be horizontal on the couch. Clay puts the necessities down on the coffee table and scoops Apollo's legs up onto the couch so he isn't twisted all funny. The last thing the poor thing needs is unnecessary strain making him uncomfortable. He ruffles Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into the touch. Aww.

"Anything else I can grab you?"

"Can you sit with me? I wanna watch you play games."

"Aw, sure. What do you wanna watch?"

"I dunno. Anything's fine."

"Let's play some Odyssey, then. I'll go grab the Switch."

Apollo brightens, just like Clay thought he would. He always did like playing on Clay's Switch when they were kids. Even for Clay, it's hard not to be transported back to sleepovers, hushed giggles as they tried not to tip Clay's dad off that they were staying up late while they played games under the covers, whenever he picks it back up to replay something. He knows the memories are even more precious to Apollo, who spent so much of his adolescence struggling through foster system bullshit.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, sit tight."

When Clay comes back, Apollo has propped himself up enough to try to drink more of his shake. It dribbles out of his mouth.

"Oh, man. You got a little, uh—"

Apollo looks frustrated. "Did I miss again? I still can't feel my lower lip."

"Yeah, no, it's, um—you're fine, just let me—" Clay grabs a tissue off the box on the coffee table and wipes Apollo's face. "There you go."

"Thanks," Apollo says. He smiles, wobbly but true. "You're the best."

"No problem, sunshine," Clay says, smiling. He moves around the room, getting the Switch hooked up to the port so it will show up on the TV, before he lifts Apollo's upper body out of the way so he can slide onto the couch with him. Apollo's head ends up propped on his thigh. He helps Apollo adjust himself so there's no pressure on his cheeks, and he can easily hold the ice packs in place while seeing the screen. "Here we go."

"Let's-a go," Apollo says, in a terrible Mario impression. Clay barks out a laugh and starts the game.

"Goofball."

They don't get very far into the game before Clay is pretty sure Apollo starts to doze beside him. His breathing evens out and his weight goes limp. That's fine. He's warm and cozy, and Clay likes being someone he feels comfortable enough with to sleep around. If this is helping him feel a little better while he's in pain, Clay's satisfied. It's not like it's a hardship to sit here and play video games and be his pillow.

But the fact that he thinks Apollo's mostly asleep does mean Clay almost gets the shit scared out of him when Apollo says, suddenly, "Clay."

"Jesus!" Clay fumbles a jump and Mario goes plummeting to his doom. Oops.

"Yes, hello, hi. I thought you were napping, buddy. What's up?"

"You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Yeah? Of course."

"You know?" Apollo rolls so he's mostly on his back, looking up at Clay with big, sad doe eyes again. Clay stares back down at him, befuddled. Of course he knows. "Cause I—I know I'm kinda bitchy sometimes—"

"Aw, Apollo—"

"An' I can't help you with your smart science stuff a lot—"

"That's not—"

"An' I get really anxious and you have to babysit me sometimes an' I yell at you for it—"

"Apollo—"

"But you're really important to me and it would suck if you didn't know just 'cause I'm stupid."

"You aren't stupid," Clay says. He ruffles Apollo's hair again. Apollo's eyes slide closed, lips tugging back into the miserable little pout. "I know I'm your best friend. You're plenty nice to me. Just 'cause you're a little prickly when you're stressed doesn't mean you don't make it obvious that you care about people."

Apollo sniffles. Oh, no. Case in point, though.

"And you don't have to worry about not helping me with science stuff," Clay adds. "I know I'm not that helpful with your law stuff, either. You're way better at helping me review than I am at helping you review."

At least that makes Apollo smile a little. "Jus' easier to read formulas off notecards than legal definitions."

"You can say that again." Clay will take astrophysics over civil law any day. "Besides, you're the best hype-man I could hope for. Who else is gonna get me super pumped to go to space even though it scares the piss out of you?"

"It's so high up," Apollo whines, making Clay cackle. He never thinks about fear of heights as an issue with spaceflight until Apollo mentions it. "An' there's the whole vacuum and no air and you're just going in a tin can—"

"Don't talk about my girl Hattie like that, she's perfect."

"An' even Mr. Starbuck is nervous about it."

"And you help Sol get psyched for it too," Clay says. He pats Apollo gently on the shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm talking about."

Apollo sighs.

"I know we're best friends, sunshine," Clay adds, more gently. "Come on. You think I would agree to live with you if I didn't know you liked me? I bet you could pull some real passive-aggressive roommate pranks if you wanted to."

Apollo huffs out a tiny laugh. "Maybe."

"There we go. We're fine, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Say it with me. We're fine."

"We're fine."

"You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

"I'm fine!"

"That's my boy." Mario has fallen asleep standing up on-screen. Clay is considering whether or not he should keep playing or encourage Apollo to go take a real nap when Apollo shifts beside him. Clay lifts his arms out of the way on instinct, holding the controller aloft, when Apollo braces himself on shaky arms to turn and crawl the rest of the way over to plop himself down in Clay's lap. "Wh-oa, buddy. Hi there. You want cuddles?"

"Yeah," Apollo mumbles. He drops his head onto Clay's shoulder. Clay carefully shifts his weight and settles down against the back of the couch, letting it take both of their weight. He doesn't think of Apollo as a big guy, because he's not, but geez. A whole adult human does kind of weigh a lot. Good thing Clay's been beefing up for his training. "Are you at the moon yet?"

"Nope. Only at the gardens. It hasn't been that long."

"You're gonna get to the moon someday," Apollo says, with loopy certainty. Clay almost bites down on a grin before he remembers that Apollo can't see him anymore and he can smile as much as he wants, safe from scrutiny. "You're gonna be a kickass astronaut."

"Aw, thanks, bud."

"You're really smart. And good at solving problems."

"Flatterer," Clay says, grin spreading wider. God, he wishes he'd thought to grab his phone and start recording this. Yeah, he does know he's Apollo's best friend and Apollo loves him and all that, but he sure as hell doesn't get this mushy often. It's really cute.

"You deserve it. You're the best friend in the world, Clay," Apollo declares, and promptly passes out on Clay's shoulder.

---

"Anyway," Clay finishes. He knocks back the rest of his mocha. "That's what AJ was like when he got his wisdom teeth out, so like I said. Don't be too embarrassed about it."

Klavier is laughing so hard he's almost crying, a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle the sound of it. Apollo's in the kitchen right now, cooking the three of them brunch. Hopefully the sizzle of frying eggs and sausage covers the sound of Clay's indiscretions out in the living room. Clay's dead meat if it doesn't.

"He never mentioned," Klavier manages to get out, when he finally gets himself under control. "How cute."

"It was pretty great," Clay says, fondly. "But please don't tell him I told you about that. I don't want to die before I make it to the moon, and he will actually kill me for realsies."

"Your secret is safe with me." Klavier props his chin on his hand, grinning. "Has he ever gotten quite so affectionate other times?"

"If he's drunk enough, yeah."

"I'll have to keep it in mind, then."

"S'why I told you," Clay says. He considers the sly, affectionate curl of Klavier's smile for a second before he adds, "But don't bully him too hard afterwards, or you will lose drunk Apollo privileges. Only moderate mortification allowed."

"Would he be taking the privileges away or would you?"

Clay lets his own smile go sharper. He likes Klavier just fine, and he doesn't really believe he'd be that mean to Apollo, but... well, Apollo's Clay's best friend, too. He has obligations if Apollo's boyfriend is an asshole to him. "Fuck around and find out."

"Fair enough, Herr Astronaut," Klavier says. There's a clatter of plates in the kitchen as the sizzling dies down.

"Food's ready!" Apollo hollers. Clay casts Klavier a glance; Klavier mimes zipping his lips, winking. They both push away from the table to wander into the kitchen. Apollo bustles around fixing a plate of food, a pile of hashbrowns and sausage and eggs. Klavier creeps up behind him and puts his hands over Apollo's hips. Apollo startles, almost knocking him away. His cheeks go pink.

"What do you think you're doing? Clay's literally right there."

"Don't mind me," Clay says, cheerfully. He loves having ammunition to give Apollo hell over later.

"I think he already has an inkling that we're dating, Liebling," Klavier murmurs. He leans down to kiss the top of Apollo's head. Apollo gently elbows him in the gut, pushing Klavier away as his cheeks go even redder.

"Yeah, and he's already insufferable enough about it without you hanging off me in front of him. Come on, back off."

Klavier obligingly steps back. He and Clay begin to fix their own plates. Hovering nearby, Apollo asks, suspiciously, "What were you two gossiping about out there, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," Clay says. He smiles sweetly when Apollo narrows his eyes at him. "By the way, AJ?"

"What?"

"You're the best friend in the world."

[c-atm]

G-squared: The genin exam

Hello!" Steven cheered at the five in front of him. Connie, Daniel, Patricia, Peedee, and Jeff sat in a wilderness-like area created by the C.A.R ( Customizable Alternative Reality) orb.

"This magitech is amazing," Jeff started, amazed,

"It is a portable gem room..along with other things," Connie declared proudly before turning to Steven," Nice hat and robes, Mister."

"Thank you," Steven smirked, giving a small puff of his pipe, blowing a bubble.

"Yeah, you are looking kind of important there, Steve," Danny smirked.

"That's because I am the Kage of the village hidden in the Diamond! Hidden in the land of gems; The DaiyamondoKage."

"Oh my God, we're doing Boruto!" Tricia exclaimed

"That or Boruto's dad Shippuden." Peedee quipped. "So, which number are you?"

"The fifth, all nepotism." Steven nodded coolly.

"So you're the one percent!" Jeff pointed, "time to pull a coup."

That got a laugh out of everyone before Steven spoke again.

"So, you guys are-"

"Anbu, black ops." Connie interrupted with a smile.

"Freshly made child-labor…." Steven counted, "also known as Genin...You're about 12-13 in this."

"13…" Jeff answered, "That Anbu age in the leaf."

"This isn't the leaf village. ANBU: Crystal gems gotta be at least 15 here."

"Where our headbands?" Danny inquired.

"They ain't made yet." Steven shrugged," anywho, you guys are team 265.2"

"Wait, what? How many people graduated this year?!" Jeff screamed," and why is there a point two?"

"Enough, and you and Peedee are the point two."

"What the hell?"

"Stop pausing the scenario!" Steven ordered.

"Ok, so what are we going to do here, Daikage?" Connie chuckled.

"Right. You five are gonna be tasked with meeting your sensei at the entrance of the wilderness of the lost."

"Wait?" Trica exclaimed.

"What?" Peedee added.

"Guessing we are currently in the wilderness of the lost?" Connie joked.

"As expected from the heiress of the Maheswaran family, carrier of the Maheswarigan."

"Hell yeah! Kekkei Genkai!" Connie raised her gust with a laugh, "So what do my eyes do?!"

"Now, what makes you think it's an eye Jutsu?"

"Sharingan, Rinnegan, Tenseigan, Byakugan…"

"Her sight is 'gan,' all 'gan!'" Tricia yelled in jest as she and Connie laughed.

"W-what the fuck?" Peedee laughed.

"Calm down; all will be revealed In time.." Steven smiled, "So as we stated, we have Connie Maheswaran of the Maheswarigan. Next, puppet user Jeff of the sand."

"Ey! Puppet master on deck!" Jeff cheered, "What my puppet looks like, Dai-kage?!"

Steven grinned, tossing Jeff a doll.

"OH, Screw you, Universe." Peedee kissed his teeth, holding back a laugh, looking at the Frybo plush in Jeff's hand.

"Horrifying power!" Jeff roared out, chuckling.

"Speaking of Peedee, we have Peedee Frymichi."

"FRYMICHI!?" Peedee shook his head, "let me guess, soldier pills?"

"Soldier fries, but you also have body temperature Jutsu, which allows you to increase or decrease your body temperature to superhuman degrees."

"I…" Peedee shrugged. "I have no retort; that's actually pretty cool."

"See... Next, we have Patricia of the sound."

"So we have both a sound and sand on the same team. Where do you get these kids from?" Danny laughed.

"You don't need to know what a Kage does." Steven retorted, "above your pay grade."

"Daikage, what can I do?" Patricia inquired with a smirk. "What, my Jutsu?"

"You play the triangle."

"A~and?"

"Umm." Steven shrugged, " I don't know. I leave it to you."

"Oh, that bull." The bespectacled woman turned her lips, "Everyone else got an explanation of their special Jutsu, and all I get is ' triangle. '"

"Still don't know what my eyes can do," Connie muttered.

"You have a bloodline limit! You don't get to complain."

"I gave you free rein to make your own ability, be happy." Steven countered, "last we have D of the Cloud."

"Is anybody literally from this village!?." Danny questioned.

"Not a single one of you, anywho..." Steven answered smugly, "You guys make up Team 265.2."

"265.2!?" Connie laughed.

"The further this scenario goes, the more questions it raises." Jeff exclaimed, "Why is the number so high, and why isn't a full number?"

"...You guys are tasked," Steven started ignoring the question, getting howls and laughter of opposition from the group, "Your kage is talking!"

"I was stolen from my village. I refute your leadership!" Jeff yelled.

"Never asked to be a ninja; I wanted to be a fry cook." Peedee wailed, "my parents wanted me to be a nin!"

"I got a triangle. Diii~iing!" Tricia taunted.

"I was told this was a student exchange program," Danny complained.

"I was told money was involved." Connie started, "plus tragic anime backstory shit."

"I will send you all back to the academy!" Steven challenged.

"Go ahead, do it!" Peedee challenged, starting a chorus of disobedience from the rest towards Steven, who rubbed his head to keep from laughing.

"All right, Alright, Steven...Daikage-Sama." Connie batted her eyes in flirtatious teasing, "how does this work?"

"See, at least one of you is grateful."

"I'm happy to be out of the dungeon."

The rest looked at her, a bit horrified.

"I am going for tragic anime character; stop judging me."

“I...Don’t have a dungeon.” Steven stated, chuckling, “But that is neither here nor there. Now ninjas need to be both smart and strong. The lost shall test that, for you are tasked with getting out of the wilderness and back to the village within nine hours or turns. Actions also cost hours, as do hints... If you fail, you will not be recognized as ninjas and…." He let it hang.

"What?"

"You'll find out…."

"Ohhh!..I'm not too fond of that...I don't like that at all." Jeff snorted while chuckling.

"Just don't fail. Hehe. Now to begin, you guys need to make a decision. North. south, east, or west.”

“Where do each lead?” Danny inquired.

“Where indeed?”

“We’re going west,” Connie stated.

“Hold on, why do you get to make the decision?”

“Because I'm from this place, Cloudie.”

“I say we go north,” Patricia stated.

“Naw, let’s go south.” Jeff challenged.

“My nose says we go east..” Peedee offered,” Where’s there’s food, there are people.”

“Frybo and I say south.”

“My Maheswarigan is showing me the way, and it’s west.”

“My triangle rings to the northern border.”

Steven just laughed at their arguing.

“It doesn't matter, does it?” Daniel scratched his chin, looking at Steven, who just shrugged,

"Choose wrong, and you waste an hour."

''...We're going north."

"That two for north, two for the south."

"Two for sou~? YOU'RE COUNTING THE PUPPET VOTE!?" Peedee yelled.

"Hey, Frybo is a part of the 265.2." Jeffed defended the doll

"Frybo is a puppet from hell, deserving to be cast into the deepest fryer in the nine hells!" Peedee pointed. "I'm saying north just out of spite."

Steven stood looking at Connie to see if she changed her vote. "Well...You go north, moving deeper into the Lost ." Steven announced as the area scene shifted and darkened.

"See!? We should have gone south! Now we lost an hour." Jeff yelled, "Follow Frybo. For he knows the way."

- riiiing-riiiing-

"The hell is that?" Connie asked, a bit annoyed at the ringing.

"Doesn't matter; we're heading south," Jeff stated.

"You guys heading south?" Steven questioned, getting nods all around. "You head south...and find yourself back here."

- riiiing-riiiing-

"Now we are down to eight hours!" Danny yelled.

"Just saying if we went south, we would be halfway home."

"I'm pressing X to doubt." Peedee poked Jeff's cheek.

- Riiiing-Riiiing-

"What the hell is that ringing?!" Danny yelled,

"Wanna hint?" Steven asked,

"Can we get hints?" Jeff inquired,

"Did you not pay attention...Yes, hints cost an hour as Jutsu." Steven sighed

"Please, hint us!"

"You suuure…? It Costs an hour."

- Riiiiiiiing-Riiiiiiiing-

"Oh, God. It's getting more piercing...Give us a hint!"

"What are the three types of Jutsu?" Steven grinned.

"Nin, Tai, and…" Connie turned to Tricia, " Play with your triangle."

"Wow, beautiful phrasing, "  Tricia laughed.

"Oh my Shiva! Get your head out of the gutter and dispel the Genjutsu."

"So demanding too." Tricia chuckled more before ringing her instrument with a -Diiingg-diinnng!- The area lit up three paths were shown to the crew.

" North, West, or East?" Steven grinned, "since you used a hint and dispelled the Genjutsu, you lost two hours...Soo six hours left."

"OH my God, we blew through nearly half our time already!" Connie rubbed her temples. " Can I use my special eyes, Mister Daikage?" Connie batted her eyes.

"You wanna use the Heartful glance." Steve chuckled, " Ok, so for this game, you can use your eyes twice since you have two."

"Ingenious." Peedee taunted.

"That's why your parents' food shop failed to feed the Akimichi appetite," Steven noted nonchalantly.

"Wow, Daikage is petty,' Peedee blinked before the group started to laugh.

"Anyway, two times for your special eyes, your right eye grants your guys an auto turn. No hour lost. Right answer only."

" Oh shit, that..that's a bit OP for this." Jeff  stated, "What does the right eye do?"

"Best to save that for later, hehe."

"Shit, I'm using the left Maheswarigan," Connie announced with pride.

"You go east." The area shifted again as Steve spoke, this time displaying a creek and two paths. One of wood, and the other wildflowers in bloom. "So you guys can take a chance with the creek. Drink the water, try to fish...Set up camp..replenish yourself before moving on."

"Wait, wait...Why do you say chance , as if something horrible can happen? "

"Because everything can lead to death in the ninja world."

"If you don't have Talk-no-Jutsu," Danny interjected.

"I mean, yeah, that is the most powerful skill in Naruto." Tricia nodded, "allows him to hold the world hostage."

"Wait, what?" Peedee questioned.

"Thank you, I know I couldn't be the only one thinking that." Danny exclaimed, "that's the only reason I can see Orochimaru not getting fucked up every day."

"Cause of Naruto? How does that work? "

"Discuss the fucking loophole that is the sound and leaf shadow relationship on your own time!" Steven clapped, getting their attention.

"Ok, so how is this gonna work?" Peedee inquired.

"Depends, what you're going to do...Going to rest, or going to move on? If you stay..you have a chance to stock another free turn, via Connie getting to use her left eye again if...and I'll even throw in the chance of making this a free turn, if things go your way."

"Yo, camping out. Risk it for the biscuit." Danny offered.

"Hold on...Steven, what if we fuck up." Tricia narrowed her eyes.

"If it is bad, you lose two hours. If it is not so bad, it's a normal turn."

Connie pursed her lips and turned to the others, "risk it?"

The group nodded.

"So you're resting. Ok, So, are you going to drink...or are you gonna try to fish? If you try to fish, that's a chance for a free turn and Connie's left eye."

"Which also can lead us to lose two hours if we mess up."

"Yup. Just drinking can grant Connie her eye...If you don't mess up."

"And how do we mess up drinking at a creek?" Jeff taunted.

"Coin flip." Steven grinned, showing a coin app on his phone " fishing is a bit more complicated; you have to choose the right teammates to get fish and prepare the fish, plus a coin flip, but two free hours."

"We're fishing." Connie challenged, "Ninjas need to be fearless." The group nodded in agreement.

"OK, Who's fishing?"

The group stood before looking at each other.

"I would like to remind you that previously used Jutsu can't be used for at least three hours unless replenished. So Tricia's triangle is currently unavailable until the next turn."

"Well, thought she could Genjutsu the fish." Jeff stated, "What does Connie's right eye do?"

"...Sure you wanna use the right Maheswarigan, now?"

"...Not anymore," Peedee stated, seeing Steven's evil grin. "We're gonna pocket that."

"Jeff, use Frybo to get us some fish, puppet man." Connie smacked her friend back.

"Yeah! Puppeteer, that bitch." Peedee added.

"Puppeteer, that bitch." Jeff shook his head, chuckling, "Steven, I puppeteer the bitch to get the fish."

"That's gonna stick." Steven smirked, "that being said...Good choice. Frybo enters the creek and gets a fish for each member of the team. A.K.A Jeff puppeteered the bitch and got ya some fish."

"Steven swear! Not a G-Squared ep without one." Tricia laughed, pumping her fist.

"Ok, so who gonna-"

"Peedee." The group stated.

"Me, food is my specialty." Peedee  smirked, "and I use my body temperature Jutsu for cooking the fish."

"Fair enough...I was hoping you messed up." Steven shrugged, "but naw, you got your free turn, and Connie got her Jutsu."

"My special eyes!" Connie roared, "Full power!"

Ok, so you guys ate, you're replenished." Steven grinned, "Wildflowers or Woodlands?  Where we going?

The group looked at each other.

" Woodlands," Connie stated.

"Why would you choose Woodlands over wildflowers? Look at them dark, horrifying woods…." Peedee argued.

"The wildflowers could be a lie...LIE, I SAY!"

"This is some tragic anime story shit. We're going through wildflowers." Tricia stated.

"I'm with Connie on this one; it's definitely  woodlands." Danny nodded her a high-five, "what you say, Jeff, flowers or woods."

" I sayyy…"

_________________________

Steven: And that is where we end this episode. What happened next, do they become genin of my village...SSSHHH~HMMM. That will be seen, but until you next time, G-squared Breakout. Oh, and remember, in life you sometimes have to puppeteer the bitch and get ya some fish.

[www-neverlandsweirdo]

Sunny And Newt

So i’ve decided to start writing a Newt X Reader series because shut up.Let me know if you’d like to be added to the series taglist. :)

Warnings:This series will talk about eating disorders, depression and sex.

The day was quite bland.It was a bit warmer than usual but nothing unbearable.Everybody was still a bit tired seeing as though it was very early in the day and no one had eaten breakfast yet.

At the time everyone was getting dressed in their normal attire of stained shirts and worn down shoes.The cooks were busy in the kitchen,hurrying to put food on plates and put them on tables.

The menu was the same as every other day,bacon and eggs.Newt pulled on his tank top and hoodie tiredly,walking slowly down the hall of the homestead and down the hall.He was always the first to the kitchen,after the runners of course.

The runners always left before anyone even got to breakfast.He opened the kitchen door,dragging his feet as he took a plate and sat at a table.Time always went by slowly so he wasn’t quite sure when you walked in.

It could have been anywhere between two minutes and twenty minutes.You opened the door as quietly as possible,closing it behind you as you hoped your presence would go unnoticed.You succeeded,Frypan and Gabe not even noticing you had walked in.

Youwalked slowly,carefully placing each foot in front of her before approaching one of the plates of food.Newt watched you,confused from the back of the kitchen.

You took a single piece of bacon,slipping it into the pocket of you hoodie.You looked back over to make sure the cooks didn’t see as you took one more piece of bacon from a separate plate before picking up the original plate.Your hands were covered by your long green sleeves as you tiptoed to a table in the far left corner.

You slowly placed the plate on the table,trying as hard as you could not to make a sound.You then picked up the chair,moving it before carefully putting it down.You then sat in the chair,taking the bacon from your pocket and putting them on your plate.

You let out a small,quiet huff.Newt was still looking at you.You had just stolen bacon and gone unnoticed,that was a job that deserved a medal.Your tired eyes glanced over at his corner before locking on him.

Your eyes went wide for a second.You placed a finger over your lips.He squinted,shaking his head.You rolled your eyes,looking over at the cooks one more time before picking up a piece of bacon and tiptoeing over to his table.

You held the bacon out to him,trying to bribe him into silence.He took it with a small nod,trying not to grin.You then carefully went back to your seat,eating your bacon.By now boys were filling the kitchen,sitting down and taking their plates.

It went as it normally did,Chuck sitting with you while the others chose seats randomly.Alby sat with Newt,The Builders sat together at one table while the medjacks sat with Newt and Alby.

They were all talking but Newt wasn’t listening,still focusing on his interaction with you.He had only talked to you twice at most since you had arrived three weeks before.

He didn’t know much about you,no one did except for Chuck.No one even knew you real name,Chuck just started calling you Sunny one day and it stuck.He had given you that name because of your ‘vibe’ which made Newt wonder if you ever remembered your real name.

you had come up in the box very differently than everyone else,wearing clothes that were probably five times too large for you and socks with rainbows on them.He watched from across the kitchen as you flipped your eggs onto Chucks plate,saying something to him in the process.

you then got up,walking out of the kitchen.No one else noticed,no one watched you leave except for him and Chuck.How was it that you were the only girl and the boys didn’t look at you all the time?Now that he thought about it,you were quite pretty.

Your eyes had a twinkle to them and the way you’d bite your lip and scrunch your nose when you were confused was something he always found adorable.You really were something special. 

“I think I’m going to go start my work early,see you guys later.”Newt said quietly,picking up his plate and placing it in the sink.He headed out the door,seeing you make your way to the med hut.

Now he didn’t know what to do.How was he supposed to talk to a girl he’d barely ever spoken too?you turned around,looking over at him.He stiffened,not knowing what to do.you turned back around,continuing to walk until you disappeared into the med hut.He remembered the day three weeks ago when you was found in the box,asleep.

Gally had been the one to carry your unconscious body to the med hut,accidentally dropping you onto a bed.you hadnt waken up for three days.But when you did wake up with Newt and Alby in the room you had just sat up,scratched the back of your head and declared that you really had too pee.

Once you had used the bathroom,Chuck gave you the tour and it was decided that you should sleep in the homestead and not in a sleeping bag or a hammock like the others.It was kind of weird but you ended up sleeping on a bundle of blankets inside of Minho’s closet.

Minho said that you could sleep in the bed with him but you were fine in the closet.Newt sighed as he started to pull out the weeds he had missed the day prior.One was particularly difficult,when he tried to pull it he ended up scratching the entire side of his arm on a rock.

He got the weed out,cursing as he looked at his arm.He had seen plenty of boys get scratches and bruises on purpose,just to be able to have you take care of them.He groaned as he stood up,dropping his small shovel.

He made his way over tot he med shack.He didnt want you to think he was one of those boys that got hurt on purpose.He walked in,seeing you laying on your back on one of the beds as you stared at the ceiling.

Your arms were behind your head.He stood to admire you for a few minutes,you looked so calm.Your head turned to look at him,raising an eyebrow. “DUde,how did you get hurt already?”you laughed quietly.He smiled and shrugged,holding out his arm.you sighed,sitting up.

 “Get on the bed.”you spoke quietly as you stood up,getting some bandages and peroxcide as well as a small towel.He sat down on the bed,looking at the floor.you moved the stool over so you sat in front of him. “How the hell did you do that?”you smiled.He laughed quietly,looking away from you.

 “You see,there was this rock.And it decided to bloody attack me.”He said softly.you poured some of the peroxcide on the towel,wiping his arm. “DId you get revenge?”you asked.The peroxcide made the scrape bubble,it was kind of nasty.He nodded. 

“Yeah,I totally did.”He answered.He became kind of nervous,your face was so close to him.you unrolled the banadges,wrapping up his forearm. “Hey,can I ask you a question?”He asked.you nodded,focusing on the bandages. “DId you ever remember your real name?”He asked.

you sighed,a smirk growing on your face. “You’re named after a lizard and you think the name Sunny is weird?”you smiled as you tucked in the end of the bandages. “So Sunny is your real name?”He asked.

you shook your head,putting the peroxcide and bandages back in their spot. “Nope,Chuck just came up with it.Why?”you asked.He shrugged. “I guess its kind of just unfair that we call you something other than your name….Do you just not like it?Your name,I mean.”He huffed.you shrugged. 

“Its just boring.You still have twenty minutes until work actually starts.Do you want to take a nap?”you asked.He shrugged.He had just woken up not to long ago,he didnt need a nap yet. “Id rather talk to you.”He said bravely.you rolled your eyes,sitting back on your stool.

 “Okay,but why do you want to talk to me now?”you asked.you had a point,he hadnt ever tried to talk to you before.He didnt know how or why he had a sudden fascination with you. “WHy not?”He asked.Her eyes narrowed and you smiled a bit. “Alright then.What do you want to talk about?”you asked.

He thought about it for a minute. “I dont know.Wanna play 20 questions?”He asked.you nodded. “Um...how tall are you?”He asked.Your entire face heated up and you shook your head. “Come on,you have to play the game.”He laughed.you just shook your head. 

“You can ask anything else except my height,Okay?”you asked.He nodded. “Can I ask you a question now?”you asked.He nodded,smiling. “Um...whats the stupidest thing youve ever done?”you asked,resting your elbows on your knees.

He thought about it.In two years he had done a lot of stupid things. “I went into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwhich and Fry caught me.”He answered.you bit on your lip,holding back a laugh. 

“What about you?Whats the stupidest thing youve ever done?I mean it cant be that bad,youve only been here for a few weeks.”He said,lying on his stomach and putting his arms under the pillow as he looked up at you.

This bed was a lot more comfortable when you was in there.you smiled awkwardly. “Itriedtosummonpeterpan.”you said quickly,he couldnt even understand you.you talked really fast,like really really fast.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion,looking up at your face.you covered your face with your green sleeves. “You did what?”He asked.you looked up at him,the red of your face contrasting against your eyes. “I tried to summon Peter Pan.”you repeated slowly.He smiled from ear to ear,laughing. 

“Well thats one way to get out of here.”He laughed.you scrunched up your nose for a second.Now that he was really close to you he realized that you had one single freckle on the bridge of your nose. “Shut the hell your face.”you grumbled.With a sudden wave of confidence he spoke his next words. “Is that where you came from?”He asked with a smile.Her eyes widened. 

“Yep!And thats where youre going too.”you answered sarcastically.He blushed. “Whats your favorite animal?”He asked. “Me.”you answered almost immediately.He squinted. 

“Okay,youre my favorite animal then.”He answered.The questions went on for a while before you checked your watch and frowned. “You gotta go to work.”you told him.He sighed,sitting up. “Alright,i’ll talk to you later.”He answered,a wave of sadness going through his body.

 “Ok,dont drown.”you said in a serious tone.He looked over at you. “Ok.”Was all he answered before waving from the door as he left.Once you was sure he was gone,you flopped onto the bed and buried your face in the pillow.

you had just talked to Newt for more than 30 seconds.you had just talked to someone for thirty minutes straight.Not only that,but he heard her when you talked.That hardly ever happened.Well damn,now you felt awkward.Maybe it wouldnt be the best to talk to him like that again,you didnt want to catch any feelings.

[opbackgrounds]

Alright, friends, you know the drill by now. Here’s Part III of Sarcasticles’ overblown thoughts on sexism in One Piece. If you haven’t already, go read Part I and Part II before proceeding. 

I promise after this I’ll be done. By hook or by crook, we’re getting through the point of the original question. To the Anon who originally sent the ask, sorry it took this long to get here, I hope it’s helpful.

Also, I allude to some very, very minor Wano spoilers, so if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing here’s your warning. 

Characterization? I Don’t Know Her

What makes a good character?

I’ve spent an awful lot of time talking about character designs, when, funnily enough, it’s one of the aspects I pay the least attention to when it comes to deciding if I like how an author portrays their characters. I personally don’t care for fanservice, never have and never will. But unless it’s particularly egregious, I tend to ignore it because there are other factors I think are more important. 

The secret sauce for building characters is hard to define, because a good writer can take a concept that has no right being any good and turn it into something incredible (Oda does this all the time) where bad writers will seemingly slot all the right information in the right holes and still have their characters come out of the developmental oven flat and under cooked. 

One of the biggest buzzwords floating around these days is agency. Is a character active in their own story, or are they jerked around by the needs of the plot? Is their voice heard? Is their voice unique, or do they blend in with the background?

This is particularly important, because the term Strong Female Protagonist has been warped into shorthand for “girl who fights a lot and looks pretty doing it”. You can have a girl strong enough to lift mountains and still have her be a shit character. You can write a girl who’s main motivation is to get married and have babies with phenomenal depth. What matters is execution. 

The Petition to Call A Group of Rescue Arcs a ‘Damsel’

Both Nami and Robin had to be rescued, their main arcs bearing similarities that are impossible to ignore. But these aren’t copies of one another as much as variations on a theme, and with the existence of Marineford and Whole Cake Island I think anyone would be hard-pressed to say that One Piece’s rescue arcs are a girl’s thing. At this point it’s a feature, not a bug. 

Which makes sense given how fundamental the idea freedom is to the series. Hell, the first thing Luffy does after becoming a pirate is free Coby from Alvida’s tyrannical reign. Then he frees Zoro from an unjust authority that would have killed him had Luffy not intervened.

Notice a pattern here? 

One Piece is written like Pachelbel Canon, in that a very simple core of ideas are repeated over and over with layers of complexity and nuance added over time, examining the same themes from every possible angle. 

And when you look at the Four Big Rescue Arcs -- Nami, Robin, Ace, Sanji -- you’ll see that it’s Ace who’s given the least agency throughout his arc. Nami chose to hijack the Going Merry, repeatedly chose to push away the Straw Hats until she reached her breaking point, at which she chose to ask for help, with Luffy only intervening once she does. 

Robin is a little less obvious, but during the post-Water 7 party chapters, Aokiji makes the interesting observation that Robin could have escaped CP9, but chose not to

Remember that before Robin’s backstory was shown, Luffy specifically said he didn’t care if she wanted to die or not, so long as she was with the Straw Hats when she made her decision. No one bullied her into “I wanna live”. It was a choice she made of her own volition after realizing the depths the Straw Hats would go on her behalf.

I know there are people who disagree with me, but Nami and Robin are well-written characters. I’ve expounded enough on my reasoning both here and on my main that I don’t want to spend the time belaboring the point. What I do want is to note that Luffy wouldn’t be able to attain his dreams without them. Nami keeps them on course while also severing as a sort of moral compass for the crew -- remember she was the one who insisted on saving the giant kids at Punk Hazard -- while Robin’s ability to read the poneglyphs is what’s going to get the crew to Raftel.

Robin admittedly doesn’t have the same presence within the Straw Hat Pirates as Nami, but I would hardly call that sexism. Since Water 7/Enies Lobby she’s been pretty content to go with whatever Luffy says, and the fact that she’s literally quieter than anyone else in the crew means she doesn’t get as much focus. I think there could be more scenes with her using her specific skill set, like her investigations in Wano and the forensic anthropology scene in the pre-Jaya chapters, but I’m okay with her being a supporting character. 

The East Blue Crew have consistently gotten the most focus of any of the Straw Hats. They are the core of the crew, something Oda admits in a roundabout way in the Color Walk where they all appear together for the first time in a color spread

With the main cast as large as it is, not everyone is going to have the same amount of focus or development. Robin is given a unique voice within the story because she doesn’t overreact the way literally everyone else does. Through her silence, she stands out. I find there to be very meaningful character development when she feels comfortable enough with the Straw Hats to start calling them by name in Thriller Bark, relaxed enough with her friends to comitt her first facefaults in a series lousy with them in both Dressrosa and Wano.

In an ideal world, Oda would better rotate through his cast, much like how Brook was the unsung MVP on Whole Cake Island (where Nami was also excellent in a supporting role) but I don’t think people realize how hard it is to juggle almost a dozen different people in a story that’s bloated exponentially over time. To his credit, Oda has handled his expanding crew better than most writers. 

I also find it hard to judge this aspect of the series because the manga’s not done yet. I don’t know how Robin and Nami will be used in the future. I mean, Robin never got a chapter title declaring her “The Seventh” which I find suspicious, so Oda could very well have events in store that completely turn our perceptions upside down. It’s impossible to say.

I will acknowledge that the lack of big fights is somewhat disappointing, but neither Robin nor Nami’s dreams revolve around them getting stronger. Robin doesn’t need to use her power to make people explode from the inside out, Nami doesn’t need to fry end-game bosses with her lightning stick. That’s simply not their narrative purpose. With the exception of Tashigi, I’ve found that the female characters advertised as fighters have lived up to their billing. Hancock came out of Marineford unscathed. Carrot’s sulong form was awesome, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. The whole climax of Whole Cake Island revolved around surviving Big Mom’s wrath. Not beating her, not fighting her, it took all the Straw Hats had to just survive. Once again you’re left with a number’s game where where there just aren’t enough female characters to even pretend things are balanced.

All said, I think if you’re going to complain about the lack of Robin fights then I think you also have to complain about the lack of Brook fights, and that’s just not something you hear about, especially after Whole Cake Island. You can’t have it both ways. Either there needs to be more even distribution of major fights throughout the entire crew, or you have to acknowledge that a character’s worth isn’t dependent on their fighting prowess. 

One Piece is a battle manga, and I do think that it’s fair to criticize when a character isn’t allowed to fight when they’re perfectly capable of kicking ass. But it’s also an adventure story, and that opens up entirely new space for a character to occupy, and that’s where I think Nami and Robin (but especially Nami) really shine

That Moment You Realize Humor Isn’t A Universal Language

I’ve spent so much time defending Oda’s designs and characters that it might seem like I’m perfectly okay with everything that’s portrayed in the manga. To be clear, I’m not. If the messages and comments I’ve gotten over the past several days have taught me anything, it’s that many fans share the same sticking points I do, namely in regards to some of the gags. 

I again want to be careful here, because I’m hardly an expert on Japanese culture and it’s really hard to tell if Oda writes his jokes because he thinks they’re funny, or if he thinks his audience will find them funny. I’m again going to default to somewhere in the middle, because if Oda truly found the perviness distasteful he probably wouldn’t have included it, and I’ve read enough SBS to know the guy likes his dick jokes. 

First and foremost, one must address the culture gap. Japan ranks last among G7 nations on gender equality, In 2004 two-thirds of Tokyo women in their 20-30s reported to being groped while on public transport. There are numerous barriers that make it difficult for a woman to succeed either in the workplace or politics. 

From what I can gather, some of these trends are reversing, albeit slowly and with great resistance. Contrary to what many people seem to believe culture is not always value neutral. And I say that as an American, recognizing there are plenty of things about my culture and country that are really fucked up. 

But who gets to decide who’s right and who’s wrong?

When inside that kind of environment, that kind of culture, it’s a lot easier to understand how a character like Sanji can exist. It’s easy to understand why Momo shoving his face into Nami and Robin’s boobs might be played for laughs. It’s not an excuse, but an explanation. And with Sanji failing more often than not, being the butt of his own joke as he slowly turns into a parody of what he once was, one could almost say Oda is pointing those types of people and saying, “Look how pathetic this guy is. Now go laugh as he gets a nosebleed so bad he needs multiple blood transfusions in order to not die.”

I say almost, because Sanji is never condemned for his actions, nor does he learn from them. Instead you have this character who’s supposed to be one of the kindest characters in the series decide to immediately go peep on a woman’s bath house after gaining the power of invisibility. 

Stay classy, Oda.

As distasteful as I find it, I don’t find fanservice to be an inherently evil thing that must be eradicated at all costs, and with Oda doing things like putting his entire cast, male and female, into skintight leathers you can hardly say that he’s excluding the men. 

Everyone will have their line in the sand, and mine goes back to agency. When Nami did her Happiness Punch way back in Alabasta, that was of her own volition. When Nami and Robin dress in clothes that show everything but the nipple, that’s something they chose and feel comfortable in. 

But when Smoker and Tashigi swapped bodies at Punk Hazard, Tashigi specifically asked Smoker not to strip, and he did anyway, opening her coat and removing her bra. This is especially egregious as Tashigi is one of the very few women in the series who is always shown wearing very conservative clothing. Oda specifically showed Tashigi getting upset at Smoker’s actions, and Smoker repeatedly refusing to listen to her.   

That’s where I draw my line. 

Some Final Thoughts I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else 

Thought The First--Oda has an interesting habit of turning his most despicable, scummy pieces of flaming human garbage into the butt of the joke. Villains like Crocodile and Doflamingo are certainly evil, but it’s the idealized, cool type of evil that makes you almost admire them. There aren’t very many real-world Crocodiles, but just about everyone knows a Spandam, or an Absalom, or a Vander Decken. These kinds of villains aren’t scary because of their physical prowess, but their unyielding obsessions and the power they’re able to wring from the system, and -- surprise, surprise -- all three are either actively trying to be creepy sex pests or coded as such with the visual language of the comic.   

And Oda turns them into a mockery. 

While there are some who feel like not treating serious issues like sexual assault seriously are doing a disservice to people who have endured similar experiences I think there’s merit to turning them into a laughingstock. As someone much smarter than me said once, if an opinion cannot withstand mockery it’s revealed to be ridiculous, and these scummy-scum villains are certainly ridiculous.

Thought The Second--It’s hard to say how much sexism is a thing in-universe. Kuina is the only one who is explicitly told her dreams were impossible because of her gender, but with the recent reveal confirming that her family came from Wano, which in turn is based on Feudal Japan, it’s hard to say how widespread these beliefs are. Tashigi brought it up again at Loguetown and Bellemere specifically told her girls that they lived in an era where “girls needed to be strong, too”, but otherwise it’s not a topic that’s been explored in any depth

Thought The Third--The in-universe fetishization of mermaids has some implications that I think are unintended but worth discussing. Shirahoshi has a reputation of being one of the most beautiful women in the world despite not leaving her tower for over 10 years (she’s 16). Mermaids whose tails have split are worth less on the slave market than those whose are intact. Even Zoro erased Kokoro from his memory after meeting the more attractive Caime. It’s one of those odd things that when combined with the more obvious racism themes could have some unfortunate implications, and I think could have been avoided had Oda show a little more restraint with some of his jokes. Unintended consequences are still consequences. 

Thought The Forth--There are many other instances throughout the series that people bring up with talking about sexism in One Piece. I feel like a lot of these can be explained away individually -- for example, both Belo Betty and Rebecca’s stripperific outfits were inspired by other media, the painting Liberty of the People and Red Sonja respectively; Lola chasing after an obviously abusive man makes a whole lot more sense when you meet Big Mom; Hancock’s love sickness could be seen as an emotionally stunted woman experiencing her first crush, etc., etc -- it’s when they’re all put together that they begin to read as “Problematic”. 

It would be impossible to go over all these individually, but I tend to fall on the side of leniency. In the end, everyone has to make their own decisions based on their own values. I’m hardly unbiased, and my enjoyment for the series will undoubtedly make me look the other way when another might call the exact same incident The Worst Thing Ever. The thing is, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and most are convinced that theirs don’t stink. I include myself in that statement. In the end it’s a comic for kids. It’s supposed to be fun. 

Thought The Last--I have spent entirely too much of my time writing this up, but in the end I guess I have to go back to what I said when I talked about my thoughts on Sanji: Everyone has their own personal line of acceptable bullshit, and for me Oda does more good than bad. Sanji specifically gets very little leniency from me because I don’t like a lot of the gross behavior Oda passes over as a joke. But the female characters themselves, generally speaking? They’re fine. There are other mangaka that have more equal male to female ratios or have women play more active roles in the story, but Oda does a lot better than most other shonen titles I’ve read. 

It’s okay to be critical of media you enjoy. It’s okay to complain. But remember that One Piece is a very long series, and there are some fans who have been a round for literally decades. I myself started reading weekly around the time Duval was introduced, way back in 2008. Every time a new batch of fans comes in the same old arguments get stirred to the top of the pot: Sanji is a creep, Oda can’t draw women, why doesn’t Robin ever get to fight?

It can be exhausting to go through the same hoops time and time again. So if you’re someone who is being critical and feel like no one is listening, or that a bunch of fans are going out of their way to defend Oda, that could be one of the reasons why. They’re tired of having a series they enjoy be shit on. 

There are other fans who legitimately don’t think that Oda’s done anything wrong, that jokes are just jokes. If you happen to fall in that category, remember that not everyone feels that way. Art reflects life, which in turn reflects art. One Piece is a few million copies away from outselling Batman. To say it isn’t influential to young readers, both in Japan and abroad, is beyond asinine. 

I thank everyone who’s taken the time to read this so far. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how civil the discussion and my inbox as stayed. Even if I didn’t respond to your message, I promise that I did read it. 

I wrote as much as I did because I know this is a topic a lot of people care about, and also so I hopefully don’t have to write about it again. A lot of hours has gone into this project, and it’s been exhausting, but in a good way, if that makes any sense. I’m ready to put it to rest. 

I was joking with some friends that I think I’ve hit just about every hot topic issue now, so hopefully I can go back to fun questions like speculating if Wapol can eat a person and poop out a devil fruit. 

Until then, Sarcasticles, out         

[whatsarasaid]

Prompt: Jill and Carlos (the couple first date after escaping Raccon City)

Anon, I’m sure you just missed it, but my fic prompts are officially closed until after the semester ends in mid-May. And I actually have a Valeveira fic in the pipeline. But that fic is angsty, and sometimes I don’t want to write about deep provoking things, so I present you with this little diddy. Also, it’s not quite what you asked for, but close?

title: small reminders. fandom: resident evil: 3. rating: teen & up. word count: approx. 600. characters: jill valentine, carlos oliveira. 

—

Jill dunked her fry in ketchup and popped it into her mouth. It was too sweet and too salty at the same time, an assault on her senses which somehow numbed them instead of set them alight. Not that she had been eating well before this. Pizza boxes and Thai cartons had been piling up in her apartment, but at least she could go for her daily runs back in Raccoon City. That helped her to not feel like total crap. After three weeks on the run, cooped up in a car or some dingy motel room for hours on end, she had grown to loathe the overblown flavor of fast food.

She nor Carlos knew how to cook for shit, though, so another round of #2 combos it was.

“Now that right there is a scowl,” Carlos said, stabbing toward her glower with a fry of his own, “Please tell me what made you make that face so I can never do it.”

“It’s petty,” she sighed as she wiped her hands and tossed her napkin onto the tray, “I should be ecstatic about deep-fried whatever. Means I’m alive, right?”

“The Golden Arches are pretty great, don’t get me wrong, but aren’t exactly the pinnacle of existence, either,” he leaned back in the booth and shrugged, “I think you’re entitled to a little frustration.”

“Maybe about other things, but not this.”

“Okay, fair. Complaining’s bad for morale anyway. But let’s do something nice sometime instead. I think we deserve it.”

He always used the word ‘we.’ She was the independent, self-sufficient type. Moved out of her parents’ place when she was sixteen and stayed more focused on work than friends while at the police academy. Roommates weren’t her thing either, she preferred to live alone. But Carlos’s insistent ‘we’ reminded her of the home she had found in STARS—a declaration that they were a unit, a collective, an outfit. And while she was reluctant to admit it, it was nice to have that sort of togetherness again.

Eyeing him skeptically, she took a sip of her water (she had abandoned soda a long time ago), “What were you thinking?”

“Let’s go out, when it’s safer,” he played at confidence, but something bashful brought his usually straight shoulders inward, “Grab a nice dinner. Get drinks—real ones, not grocery store vodka—I’m talking dark, top-shelf cachaça. Go dancing. All that shit.”

The smile he was pulling out of her was getting harder to hide behind her paper cup. She had no idea why he was doing this. They had been sharing a bed for a week, and for things other than sleeping. But she kept playing the game and raised her eyebrows in incredulity, “Dancing?”

Leaning over the table onto his elbows, getting into her space, he gave her a smolder, “What, you think I don’t have moves?”

“I think you might have too many,” she said, shoving him back into his seat. 

They shouldn’t have moments like this. Not after what they had been through. Even with her pistol tucked into the waistband of her jeans, it felt too normal. But maybe that’s why she hadn’t fought when Carlos had insisted on helping with her investigation, on going on the run with her. He tethered her to the world, reminded her of what she was fighting for, of the tenderness that remained, “Alright, try-hard, we’ll go out after we cross the border.”

His face lit up and then softened into genuine affection. Speaking low, he shook his head, curls bouncing, “You won’t regret it, supercop.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I will.”

end.

[leiascully]

Fic:  Five Bets Eliot Lost (Mostly On Purpose) And One He Didn’t (Leverage, OT3, T)

4700/16500 words; T for swearing and references to sex; Eliot and Hardison finally go fishing; read on AO3

Part 1/5: Triple Chocolate Cookies Part 2/5: Three Garlic Pasta  Part 3/5: Three Bean Chili

"You know what I was thinking?" Hardison said out of the blue one day when they were between jobs.  

"Do I look like a mind reader?" Eliot asked, which gave him a little pang, because it was something his momma used to say.

"I was thinking we never did get to go fishing," Hardison said, ignoring him.  "You know, our special little date you set up."

"It wasn't a date," Eliot growled.  "It was a regular boys' trip."

"Yeah, you know those are all dates, right?" Hardison drawled.  

Eliot frowned.  "It's not a date when you eat at the bait shop."

"Oh, you weren't gonna take me to the bait shop," Hardison said.  "No sir.  We were gonna bring all those fish home and fry 'em up and that's what you were going to feed me.  Not some kind of bait shop sandwich with plastic cheese on it, all full of salmonella and what have you."

"You don't know what you're missing," Eliot said, shaking his head.  "Eating at the bait shop is an experience."  

"It's not an experience I need to have," Hardison said.  

"Well, too bad, I guess," Eliot told him, and grinned.  "Because we're going fishing."

"That's good," Hardison said, "because I did get us these fishing licenses."  He brandished two pieces of paper.  

"You paid for 'em?" Eliot asked.  Hardison nodded.  "Huh.  Figured you'd just hack the system or whatever."

"And have you take me on the kind of date where we get arrested?" Hardison demanded.  It hit something inside Eliot every time Hardison insisted it was a date.  He was going to do his damndest not to think about it, he decided.  Hardison was still talking.  "I'm not going down because some hat-wearing Game and Fish Commission dude needs to meet his quota for the month.  Besides, you're paying for lunch and reels and worms or whatever.  Seemed fair."  

"That's how I know it's not a date," Eliot said, squinting sideways up at Hardison.  "Because when I take someone on a date, they don't pay for anything.  It's all taken care of."  It was just banter, obviously.  He wasn't flirting with Hardison.  But they'd always gone back and forth, just normal stuff, because he'd never been able to resist messing with a guy with a brain as big as Hardison's.  

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison said.  "It's the twenty-first century, man.  Everybody splits the check."  He clapped Eliot on the shoulder.  "Let's go fishing."

"Find us a spot," Eliot told him, and Hardison's eyes lit up a little.  

They found a sweet little spot out by the river and set up the folding chairs and the rods Eliot had bought at the bait shop.  He could have rented them, but maybe if they owned the damn things, he'd be able to talk Hardison into going fishing again.  They rarely got the chance to spend time together, just the two of them.  Eliot had spent pretty much his whole childhood hanging out down at the river with the boys.  It was nice to feel like he could salvage some of that with Hardison.  

"We are eating whatever is in those takeout boxes before I'm touching any worms," Hardison declared, and Eliot grinned at him.  

"Prepare for an experience you'll never forget," he told Hardison, and brought out two styrofoam containers of fried fish, slaw, and hushpuppies.  There was beer to wash it down, and a couple of homemade fried pies to top it off — none of it the best Eliot had ever had, but all of it good.  Something about the fresh air and the sound of the rushing river gave it an extra flavor.  

"All right," Hardison said when they were done and he'd licked the last of the peach filling from the pie off his fingers.  "That wasn't the worst."  

"I told you," Eliot said.  

Hardison nodded.  "You did.  You really did."  

"And now," Eliot said, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together, "we fish."

"That is what we're here for," Hardison said.  "Although I'll be honest with you, I kind of always though 'going fishing' was just a euphemism."

"For drinking beer?" Eliot said.  "I mean, you're not wrong.  There's a lot of beer drinking."

Hardison shrugged.  "That and other things."  

"Uh huh," Eliot said.  He wasn't going to pretend not to know what Hardison meant.  He done a little bit of everything down by the river those last few summers at home, or at least experienced a little bit of everything.  

"Just sayin'," Hardison said, holding up his hands.  

"You thought I invited you down to the river to fool around, huh?" Eliot asked.  

"I mean, not this time," Hardison said.  "I invited you."  He rubbed his hands together.  "So are we going to fish or what?"

"We are definitely going to fish," Eliot said.  "Just...fish."

"You're gonna have to show me," Hardison said, and Eliot grinned.  They started at the beginning: threading the line through the supports on the rod, tying on a hook, adding the worms that Hardison was so disgusted by.  Eliot could have gotten other bait, but it was funny to watch Hardison squirm.

"Now cast your hook out into the water," Eliot said.

"Okay," Hardison said, giving him one of those looks.  "How do I do that?"  

"Just" — Eliot mimed flicking the rod — "put it out there."  

"Show me," Hardison said, and Eliot picked up his rod.  "No, show me, like, move my arm.  I'm not gonna learn by watching you.  I'm one of those kinesthetic learners.  I need to feel it."  

"Uh, sure," Eliot said.  "I'll just, uh...here, stand up."  He stepped up behind Hardison and kind of put his arms around him a little.  Hardison was taller than he was and Eliot's face was almost against the back of Hardison's shoulder.  Hardison was wearing one of those waffle-looking shirts and he smelled like bergamot and some kind of woodsy deodorant.  It worked on him.  "It starts with the shoulder, that's where the power comes from."  He patted Hardison's shoulder and then ran his hand down Hardison's arm.  "It ends in the wrist.  That's the finesse."  He moved Hardison's arm back and forth.  Goddamn, Hardison was strong.  It wasn't exactly like he ever forgot that, since it was part of the calculations Eliot made for every job — if shit went south, he could rely on Hardison to get out, mostly — but he never really considered the physical reality of it either, unless they were both working out at the same time.  But Hardison's arms were hard with muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt, and Eliot could feel the power in them as Hardison's arm pivoted smoothly with his guidance.  "Like this."

"Uh huh," Hardison said in a serious voice.  "I think I'm getting it.  Just back and forth."  

"Not just back and forth," Eliot said.  He laid his arm out along the length of Hardison's and wrapped his fingers around Hardison's wrist.  "It's all in the wrist, man.  Just hold this down, pull back, and flick as you let go."  Their arms moved together and Hardison's hook dropped neatly into the water.  "Just like that."  

"I might need help again later," Hardison said.  "You know they say practice makes perfect."

"I'm here all day," Eliot said.  "You want another beer?  It might take a while to actually catch anything."  

"Why the hell not," Hardison said.  Eliot cracked open two more beers and Hardison clinked his can against Eliot's as they sat down.  "To finally going fishing."

Eliot drank a healthy sip and slid his can into the cupholder built into the arm of his chair.  He cast out into the river.  It wasn't hard, but it did take practice to get the little flick just right.  He'd gotten plenty of practice over the years — he'd been fishing since he was little, maybe five, first with his granddaddy and then his daddy and then his friends.  

It wasn't like Hardison was wrong.  He and his buddies had gone down to the river by themselves starting when they were twelve or so.  They hadn't fooled around until they were in high school, when they'd go catch enough fish to come home with and then fill the rest of the hours with whatever they'd managed to steal out of their parents' liquor cabinets and cigarette packs.  What the hell else were a bunch of teenage boys going to do but get tipsy and go skinny dipping?  Whatever else had happened had just happened.  Just a bunch of boys taking a test drive before the real deal.  The fact that it had still happened after some of them had gotten laid was just a matter of opportunity.  

The military had been like that too, and then thieving, since then: Eliot and all his brothers-in-arms just trying to get by and have a little fun in their off-time.  Keeping the world safe for democracy got lonely  It wasn't gay to give another man a hand job.  His own damn hand just got so boring after a while, and there hadn't been any women in his combat unit.  Wrapping his fist around another man's cock had been a favor, nothing more, because the other guy had always done it for him too.  And getting a blow job from another man wasn't gay either, because Eliot had never been the one blowing.  It wasn't like he'd tangled his fingers in the guy's hair or kissed any of them afterward.  Well, maybe a couple of them, but when they swallowed, it only seemed polite to thank them with a kiss and a hand job.  It wasn't gay.  It wasn't like there'd been tongue.  Much.  

Okay, it was bi-curious at most.  He'd probably thought about women anyway.

"Bet you I catch more fish," Hardison said, startling Eliot out of his thoughts.  

"No way in hell," Eliot told him.  "You can't even cast by yourself yet."

"I had a good teacher," Hardison said.  "You wait and see how many fish I catch."

"Fine," Eliot said.  "Loser buys dinner."

"Loser cooks dinner," Hardison said.  "Because you're going to be preparing all these delicious fish I catch."  

"Only if you win, which you're not gonna," Eliot said.  "And if you do, you're gonna learn to clean a fish."

"That sounds terrible," Hardison said cheerfully.  "How about you do it and I pretend to watch?"

"You've gotta catch at least five more fish than I do if you want to get out of cleaning duty," Eliot said.

"Done," Hardison said.  He pointed at Eliot.  "No backsies."

"What are you, a child?" Eliot asked.  

"I am a fully grown adult man," Hardison said, wiggling his eyebrows.  "Wanted in at least sixteen countries, and that doesn't even count the warrants."

"Hah," Eliot said.  "I get it."  He raised his beer to Hardison.  Hardison grinned.  Eliot felt a nibble on his line and ignored it.  He didn't want to lose, but on the other hand, he wanted to see what would happen if Hardison won.  The last time, he'd somehow ended up on their date, and it had been weird as hell, but also nice somehow.  Eliot hadn't had any shortage of quote-unquote friends, but he hadn't been on a date in longer than he could remember.  And he hadn't really felt like the third wheel, unless it was the third wheel of a tricycle.  He'd felt like they wanted him there.  Like it wouldn't have been the same without him. And now Hardison had basically insisted that this was kind of a date, whatever that meant.

Eliot had no fucking clue what the fuck was happening, if he was honest with himself.  

"I feel something," Hardison said, sitting up and alert in his chair.

"All right, jerk your wrist back to set the hook," Eliot told him.  "Still feel it?"

"Yeah," Hardison said, focusing in on the rod and the water in a way that gave Eliot a little tingle someplace he couldn't describe.  Watching Hardison work really was something else.  

"Keep the line taut," Eliot said.  "Just reel it in slowly.  If it fights, you tip the rod to give it a little room.  Don't let the line out too far or the hook might slip and you'll lose it."  He put his hand on Hardison's shoulder.  The man had biceps, that was for sure.  "Easy does it.  Easy."

"This is as easy as I get," Hardison said, cranking the reel.  

"You got this," Eliot told him.

There were a few tricky moments, but at the end of it, Hardison was triumphantly holding up a pretty little bass.  Eliot freed it from the hook and dropped it in a bucket of water.

"That's one," Hardison said, holding up one finger.  "And how many do you have?  None?"

Eliot pretended to look around and turned to flip Hardison off.  "Hey, man.  Look at that.  I got one too."

"Ha ha," Hardison said sarcastically.  

They didn't catch a damn thing the whole rest of the afternoon.  Eliot could have — he felt the fish nibbling, but he'd either let them go or yank at just the wrong moment or let too much line out.  Hardison just didn't have the technique down.  Eliot helped him cast a couple more times, but nothing seemed to want to take Hardison's bait.  

They both looked at the one fish in the bucket and then at each other.

"How's chili sound for dinner?" Eliot asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Hardison said.  "I could go for some chili.  Maybe some cornbread."

"Don't push your luck," Eliot said, though he'd already been thinking about it himself.  

"All right, all right," Hardison said.  "I can eat my chili with Fritos like a regular person if you're not gonna put out."

Eliot tipped out the bucket into the river and the fish swam away.  "No one in the history of food has ever used the phrase 'put out' in conjunction with the idea of cornbread, except to to say 'put out the cornbread on the table'."

"I'm an innovator," Hardison said.  "Cutting edge."  

"Just help me carry all this shit to the truck," Eliot told him, rolling his eyes and dumping the ice from the cooler out onto the edge of the river.  They'd finished the beer a couple of hours ago, at least.  The rods and the cooler and the chairs all went in the back of his truck and he and Hardison piled back in and drove back to the Bridgeport.

"Can't believe you didn't catch anything." Hardison said.  "Fish in Oklahoma must just be easy, huh?"

"Guess so," Eliot said.  "I sure caught more than my share back home."  He smirked.  

"I can imagine," Hardison said, and suddenly that was all Eliot was thinking about: Hardison thinking about the things Eliot had done down by the river.  "Good clean wholesome country fun, no doubt."

"Nothing cleaner than skinny dipping," Eliot said, glancing at Hardison and then back at the road.  He could at least have a little say in what Hardison was imagining.  If that happened to be Eliot buck naked and golden from the summer sun, so be it.  He glanced at Hardison again and caught just the curve of Hardison's smile as Hardison licked his lips.  Eliot felt a shock spark through him like static.

What the fuck was he doing?  Flirting with his teammate?  With his other teammate's boyfriend?  This wasn't a "what happens down at the river stays down at the river" situation.  Parker and Hardison were pretty much all he had these days by way of friends he saw regularly.  He couldn't mess with that.  But Hardison was still smiling and seemed perfectly comfortable.  

"Hey, babe," Parker said when they came in.  She was studying something on a laptop.  She turned in her seat to kiss Hardison.  Eliot felt that spark again and remembered his dreams.  He looked away.  She sure as hell hadn't offered him a kiss.  Maybe he was imagining this whole thing.  Maybe they hadn't ever been flirting with him and he'd messed up all their date night plans that last time with the pasta.

"Hell yeah, I did," Hardison told her.  "More than Eliot too, which means he's making dinner again."

"Nice," Parker said.  "For everybody?"

Hardison shrugged.  "I assume Nate and Sophie are out for the night, since nobody's called me to demand I work technological miracles on short notice."

"Fine with me."  Parker hopped off her chair.  "What's for dinner?"

"Chili," Eliot said.  "And before you ask, no, it doesn't pair well with tiramisu."

"No more late-night tiramisu," Hardison said, putting his arms around Parker with an indulgent air.  "You were bouncing off the walls for hours."

"You liked it," Parker told him, and her grin told Eliot everything he needed to know and more about exactly how much Hardison had liked it.  

"I didn't say I didn't benefit from it," Hardison allowed, "but sometimes I need my sleep, baby.  There's only so much one man can do."

"All right, all right," Eliot groused.  It was too bad two men wasn't an option.  Between them, surely they could tire out even a sugared-up and caffeinated Parker.  

"Ice cream," Parker decided.  "Yeah, definitely ice cream."  She flashed them a smile.  "I'll be back."

"I'm gonna watch the master work," Hardison said to Parker, following Eliot into the kitchen.  "Don't forget there's only so much room in the freezer."

"Yeah, yeah," she said.  "If we eat it, that's not a problem."

"She's got a point," Eliot said.  He washed his hands and flung a towel over his shoulder.

"First I learned to fish," Hardison said.  "Now I'm going to learn to cook."  

"Maybe you'll be better at cooking than you were at fishing," Eliot teased.

Hardison snorted.  "Says the man who didn't catch even a minnow today."

"I was off my game," Eliot said.  

"Missing your old fishing buddies, huh," Hardison said, leaning on the counter.

"Something like that."  Eliot dug in the cabinets for one of his big dutch ovens, the cast iron ones.  "If you want to cook chili, you start out with a big old pot."

"Looks like you could do reps with that one,"  Hardison said, miming bicep curls.

"Just about," Eliot said.  He set it on the stove and pulled out the cutting board and an onion.  "Mince your onion up.  I like it in little pieces so it gets all melty.  Some people like big chunks of onion, but that's their business."  He minced a few cloves of garlic alongside it and turned on the heat under the pan.  "Heat first.  That's important.  When the pan gets hot, then we add the oil, then we wait for that to heat up."

"I'm taking notes in my mind," Hardison said, tapping his temple.  "Heat.  Oil.  Onions.  Got it."

Eliot went to the fridge.  He'd been meaning to make chili anyway — he had a packet of mixed ground pork and beef from the butcher, which meant either chili or burgers in his world.  He pulled that out and grabbed a couple of bell peppers while he was at it.  Hardison watched him lay everything out on the counter.  Eliot held his hand over the metal bottom of the pot.  Hot enough, he thought.  He added some oil and watched it run along the perfect unstained enamel.  One of these days, maybe he'd be in one place long enough to break his cookware in.  His momma's chili pot had had a chip out of the top and it never looked completely clean inside.  Too many Sunday dinners and weeknight soups.  He shook his head and cut the tops off his bell peppers. The oil in the pot was shimmering.  He scraped in the onions and garlic and let them sizzle.  The scent of them immediately filled the kitchen.

"First the noise," he told Hardison.  "Then you stir."  He started dicing the bell peppers, peered over at the onions, and handed Hardison the big wooden spoon.  "Stir."

"You get bossy in the kitchen, don't you?" Hardison asked, but he came around the counter and stood next to Eliot.

"I'm bossy everywhere," Eliot told him.  "And it's saved your life more than once."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Hardison said, poking the onions with the spoon.  Eliot threw some salt in on top of them.

"I said stir 'em, not move 'em around one at a time," he teased.  

"I had a lot of wrist action earlier," Hardison protested.  "Go easy on me."

"Don't tell me you need me to teach you how to stir," Eliot said.  "Smartest man I know.  You can figure it out."  He pulled a beer out of the fridge.  

"Didn't get enough earlier?" Hardison joked.

"It's for the chili," Eliot told him.  He peered around Hardison at the onions.  "Stir 'em around again."  Hardison scraped the spoon through the onions obediently.  They were translucent enough, Eliot decided, and added the peppers to the pot.  

"Keep stirring?" Hardison asked.

"You got it," Eliot said.  He unstuck the paper around the packet of meat and unwrapped it.  

"Mm," Hardison said unconvincingly, looking at the bloody rectangle.

"This is the good stuff," Eliot said.  He dumped it into the pot.  "Chop it up with the spoon as it turns brown."  He mimed the action and Hardison mimicked him, separating the meat into chunks.  

"Big or little pieces?" Hardison asked.

"Depends on what you like," Eliot said.  "Smaller's easier to eat.  Picks up the flavor better.  Bigger keeps more of the meat taste and feels different in your mouth."  He tossed in more salt on top of the meat, added chili powder and black pepper and oregano.  

"Is that cocoa powder?" Hardison asked.

"Just a little," Eliot said, measuring it out on a teaspoon.  "Gives it a little depth.  That's what the beer's for too."

"And here I thought you were just rude," Hardison murmured.  

"That too," Eliot said.  He added cumin to the pot, hesitated, and then threw in a little more.  Hardison sniffed appreciatively.

"This smells good, man," he told Eliot.

"Thanks," Eliot said.  

"You use a recipe?" Hardison asked.

"Nah," Eliot said.  "Just know what it's supposed to be like."  He collected a can of tomatoes and three different kinds of beans from the pantry.  If he was going to keep losing bets, he was going to keep making three-of-a-kind recipes and see if they ever even noticed.  Black beans, pinto beans, and kidney beans made a hell of a chili anyway.

"Meat looks...brown," Hardison said.

"Good," Eliot said.  He cracked open the beer and poured most of it into the pan, where it bubbled and steamed up in a cloud that made Hardison cough.  Eliot laughed and took a swig of what was left.  He offered the last swallow to Hardison.  Hardison took it without hesitation.  Eliot couldn't stop looking at the way Hardison's lips pressed against the mouth of the bottle, right where Eliot's had been.  Hardison drained the dregs and set the bottle on the counter, his eyes on Eliot's.  Eliot shivered.  There'd been looks like that down by the river, those summers in high school: lazy, certain stares full of breathless heat.  He didn't know anymore if he was imagining things.  

He'd tried not to get in the way.  They just kept including him.  Maybe it was inevitable that he was having these kinds of thoughts about it.  It had been a long damn time since anybody had made him feel as needed as the two of them did, or as wanted, or as welcome.  Of course he had feelings about them now.  Of course he dreamed about them.

"Eliot," Hardison said softly.  "Earth to Eliot."

"Yeah," Eliot said, shaking it off.  "Let the liquid cook off a little."  He grabbed the can opener and opened the cans.  He dumped the beans into a colander, all three cans, and rinsed them off.  

"Three bean chili, huh?" Hardison said.  "When one or two beans just won't do."

"Adds texture," Eliot said.  Hardison didn't know enough about food to contradict him, and anyway, it was sort of true.  He grabbed a spoon and tasted it.  "It ain't Texas chili, but it'll do."  

"Now what?" Hardison asked.  

"Now we turn the heat down and let it simmer," Eliot told him.  "And I guess we make cornbread, if you still want it."

"Hell yeah, I do," Hardison said.

"Then turn on the oven," Eliot said, "and throw that cast iron skillet in there."

"This one?"  Hardison held it up.

"That's the one," Eliot told him, already measuring everything into a bowl.  Cornbread came together fast.  When the batter was all mixed together, he pulled out the hot skillet, melted some butter in it, and poured in the batter.  It hissed and spat a little.  He pushed it back into the oven.  

"Kinda thought Parker would be back by now," he said.  

Hardison shrugged.  "You know Parker and sugar.  She might be back in five minutes.  Might be two hours."

"This'll take about half an hour," Eliot said.  

"How will we pass the time," Hardison said, lounging against the counter.  

"Not fishing, I'm guessing," Eliot said.  He leaned on the counter next to Hardison.  "Not unless you've still got that game."

"I do, but now that I know what the real thing is like, I don't know if I can go back," Hardison said.  He smiled over at Eliot, slow and sweet.  "All that fresh air, you know?"  

"I'm back!" Parker said.  She was carrying a tote bag that looked like it definitely contained more ice cream than three adults could or should eat.  "I couldn't pick a flavor, so I just got all of them."  

"Attagirl," Eliot said, pushing himself off the counter.  "Go big."

"And then come home," Hardison said, pulling Parker close.  He took the ice cream bag from her and looked through it.  "Wow.  You really did get everything."

"I told you so," Parker said.  "Is it dinner yet?"

"Almost," Eliot said.  "Just waiting on the cornbread."

"Yum," Parker said.

"I helped cook," Hardison said.

"He did," Eliot confirmed.  "He's a good little sous chef.  Stirs and everything."  

"Sounds like you're a great team," Parker said, looking between them and smiling. "I like teamwork."

"Me too," Hardison said.  He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow.  

Eliot tried really damn hard not to read anything into that.

Dinner didn't feel like a date this time, but it did feel like family.  They watched <i>Top Gun</i> afterwards, because apparently that was what they did now: dinner and a movie.  Parker gave up on any pretense and swung her legs over Eliot's lap almost the minute he sat down.  She put her head in Hardison's lap and Hardison stroked her hair.  Neither of them said anything or even seemed to notice anything was strange.  Eliot sighed to himself and rested his hand on her shin.  It wasn't like she'd never touched him before.  She'd flung her arm around his shoulder or jumped into his arms or poked at him a hundred times over the years.  It just felt different now.

Nothing about his life was remotely like what he'd imagined when he'd been in high school.  But it was all right.  He had a damn good life.  

"Pass me that fruity one," Parker said, sitting up so that she was leaning against Hardison, and Eliot handed her a gooey pint of ice cream.  She dug her spoon into the container and grinned at him.  He thought very briefly about how sweet she'd taste if he kissed her.  

"Share," Hardison told her, and Parker held the spoon to his mouth, and Eliot thought about kissing him too.  He picked up one of the other pints of ice cream and occupied his mouth and his mind with other sensations, real ones, cold and the bitter bite of chocolate and the smooth feeling of butterfat.  It helped crowd the fantasies out of his head, at least for a little while.

It could have been worse.  He could have fallen for Sophie.

[ericsonclan]

Family Fun and Competition

Summary: The Garcias gather together for a night of family fun.

Word Count: 3719

Read on AO3:

It was a cloudy day today. The sky looked slightly grey and gloomy and the wind outside was cold and dreary. But that didn’t seem to bother the sleeping couple. Javi’s arm lazily moved forward and wrapped around Santiago’s waist. Santiago muttered something in his sleep about the fantasy novel he had stayed up far too late reading. Shifting his body back, Santiago basked in his husband’s warmth as Javi moved his face closer to Santiago’s back. After a moment the couple’s legs moved closer together, gently intertwining as Santiago blindy reached for Javi’s hand. Giving it a sleepy kiss, Santiago quickly fell asleep. Javi hummed at the soft kiss on his hand and wrapped Santaigo closer to himself. He buried his face into the crook of Santiago’s neck and exhaled deeply. The warm breath tickled Santiago who laughed and wiggled around.

“Stop, that tickles,” Santiago mumbled and snuggled his face further into his pillow.

“Sorry,” Javi whispered and yawned loudly. Tilting his head back, he slipped his arm off of Santiago’s waist which his husband didn’t seem happy about. Santiago made some comment while still half asleep which made little to no sense to Javi. Javi looked at the alarm clock, blinking a few times to make sure he read the time right. “Shit, it's already ten thirty.”

“So? It's Saturday - we get to sleep in and cuddle,” Santiago reached for Javi’s arm and wrapped it around his waist again.

“Babe, we have to get up,” Javi tried to resist the urge for more cuddle time; the bed was so comfy and Santiago was so warm.

“Why? It's not like we have any plans today,” Santiago intertwined his fingers with Javi’s.

“Actually we do. Gabe and Nurgul are coming over for family game night and Mariana is here with Tenn for the long weekend.”

Javi’s words made Santiago shift around and get up. His hair was all messy and fluffy. “Shit, that's right,” He searched around blindly for his glasses. After a moment or two he was able to find them and placed them on his face. Looking over he saw the loving smile of his husband.

“Good morning,” Javi surprised Santiago with a kiss that definitely helped wake him up.

“Good morning,” Santiago returned the smile before lifting up his pillow to rest his back against. “So, what things do we need to do in preparation for tonight?”

“Make pudding, wash the blankets, go shopping real quick for some snacks and order the pizzas.” Javi listed item after item on the to do list, lifting up a finger after each one.

“Alright, breakfast first then we make pudding,” Santiago stole a kiss from Javi then hopped out of bed. Getting his morning slippers on, Santiago opened the bedroom door and the two walked to the kitchen together. Breakfast wouldn’t be anything fancy, just some cereal and orange juice. The two quickly poured their cereal and milk and made their way to the table. Both were quiet for a minute or two, letting themselves wake up and hoping that the food helped with that too. Santiago glanced up and saw that Javi was smiling at him. “What?” he asked before taking a bite of cereal.

“Nothing, you’re just making eating cereal look sexy,” Javi gave a flirtatious smile while Santiago’s eyes grew large at the compliment. He could feel his heart fluttering from the line. Javi lifted up his cup of orange juice and was sipping it happily when Santiago spoke.

“Not as sexy as you drinking orange juice,” Santaigo smiled when he saw Javi choke on the orange juice. It soon changed to concern though when Javi started coughing. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting that.” Javi smiled and soon the two resumed eating their breakfast, casually talking about this and that.

Once breakfast was done and the bowls, cups and spoons were washed the couple moved onto the first task on their list. “It's pudding time!” Javi had a bright smile on his face while he got out two mixing bowls, one large and one small, a pot to cook the pudding in and saran wrap. Meanwhile Santiago was getting out all the necessary ingredients: sugar, cocoa powder, cornstarch and milk.

“You still got your bedhead,” Javi laughed as he ruffled his husband’s hair.

Santiago blushed lightly and reached for Javi’s hair. “Yours is pretty wild too!”

The two laughed together as they played with each other’s hair before returning to the task at hand. Santiago read the instructions while Javi placed all the dry ingredients in the small bowl and mixed them. Santiago then reached over and grabbed the milk, measuring it out then placing it in the pot. Turning on the heat, Santiago gently whisked the milk while Javi poured in the dry ingredients.

“I want a turn stirring too,” Javi smiled over at his husband.

“Okay, I’ll give you a turn for a kiss,” Santiago looked over at Javi who quickly agreed and gave Santiago a kiss before grabbing the whisk. Javi hummed happily while he stirred the pudding, singing a little tune about the tasty treat. Soon the chocolate pudding had formed and Javi took it off the flames.

“Oh! Maybe we should make some vanilla pudding too,” Santiago suggested then opened the fridge and peeked inside. “We have caramel sauce too so we can make it extra special.”

“Nothing’s ever wrong with more pudding!” Javi declared happily and soon the second batch of pudding was put on the stovetop as Santiago whisked away. After a few minutes both puddings were ready and had cooled down enough to be placed in containers. With some quick saran wrapping the pudding was safely secured and placed in the fridge.

“Okay, that's one task down. On to the rest!” Santiago led the way to the next task. The couple shared a smile; they couldn’t wait for tonight and were sure the others felt the same way.

“I think the dough’s risen enough, Nuri!” Gabe called out to his wife who was currently giving their black and white husky Arwen some ear scratches.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Nurgul rose up and started to make her way to the kitchen with Arwen in tow.

“Where’s Luka?” Gabe glanced back at his wife.

“He’s asleep. He tired himself out from playing so much with Arwen earlier but I’ll wake him up before the babysitter is here.” Strolling over to the sink, Nurgul quickly washed her hands and dried them off while her husband worked to take the risen dough out of the bowl. Gabe fumbled around with the baursak dough with one hand as he placed some flour down on the counter. After a minute or two he began to roll out the traditional Kazakh style dough when suddenly Nurgul peeked her head out from behind him to take a look.

“Oh, baby, you should put some more flour on the rolling pin,” Nurgul instructed. She grabbed some flour and dusted it on the roller. Placing her hands on top of Gabe’s, she began to help roll out the dough. Gabe could feel his heart flutter and felt his cheeks growing warm. “Now you’ve got the hang of it.” Nurgul looked up and smiled at her husband who was glancing back at her. She moved her hands away when suddenly Gabe reached out for them.

“Wait, it’s more fun to roll out the dough together,”

Gabe’s words and his sudden action made Nurgul’s heartbeat quicken. “Okay,” Nurgul had the softest smile on her face that made Gabe’s heart melt. He quickly stole a kiss from his wife then continued to work. The couple rolled the dough together in harmony as Nurgul lightly hummed a tune.

Once the dough had completely been rolled out they began to slice it into patterns. Gabe made his baursak pieces square while Nurgul made circles.

“Not doing too bad with making baursak,” Gabe smiled over at his wife who chuckled softly at the flour that had gotten on his orange beanie. Gabe looked confused until he followed Nurgul’s gaze towards his beanie. “Oh shit, did I get dough on it?”

“No, just some flour. Your beanie will survive,” Nurgul moved forward and captured her husband’s lips in a gentle kiss. Gabe could feel his ears grow hot and wanted to cover them with his beanie but his hands were covered in dough and flour. Nurgul didn’t seem to mind his reddish ears though and continued her work. “I think you’re doing a great job,” she commented as she finished up her last few circles.

“Thanks,” Gabe cut the last few squares with his knife then went over to wash off his hands. Arwen looked up from her spot in the corner of the kitchen, her ice blue eyes searching for snacks, but soon saw they were not ready yet and went back to sleep.

Nurgul moved over and looked at the pan that was filled with some oil for frying the dough. Seeing that it was bubbling a bit, Nurgul turned down the heat to medium for a few seconds before she began to place the dough to fry. She was about halfway done with the first batch when the strings to her apron became undone. Nurgul was busy trying to balance all the different things in the kitchen and couldn’t seem to find a second to re-tie her apron.

“It’s okay, Nuri. I got you,” Gabe jogged forward and wrapped his arms around Nurgul’s waist to reach the strings. After a few seconds he had tied them and turned his attention to his wife whose face was extremely close to his. The two were flustered in that moment, both wanting to go in for a kiss but their minds were overloading. Nurgul was quickly pulled away from it though when she could see the dark exterior of the baursak.

“Oh, damn it,” Nurgul refocused on cooking and Gabe soon joined in as well. Luckily for them they had been able to rescue the fried bread just in time before it burnt. After a few more batches the baursak was made and placed in bowls and saran wrapped to be transported over to Javi and Santi’s place.

“Looks like we finished just in time,” Gabe looked up at the clock on the oven.

“That's good. Can you get the cinnamon sugar while I send Javi a quick text that we’re on our way?” Gabe nodded at Nurgul’s words and sharing one more quick kiss the couple went to work on getting ready to go.

“You grabbed everything right, Tenn?” Mariana looked up at her boyfriend as she reached for the items she had placed in the island of the car.

“Yep, I have the drinks and the Switch controllers,” Tenn displayed the custom controllers decorated with a design he and Mariana had made.

“Awesome!” Mariana pocketed her phone and keys then closed the car door before jogging over to intertwine her hand with Tenn’s. It took some maneuvering with all the items Tenn was trying to carry. “Here, let me carry something,” Mariana offered and took a pitcher of lemonade before her boyfriend could protest. Mari smiled and leaned forward, getting on her tiptoes to give Tenn’s cheek a soft kiss. “Alright, ready to win game night?” “Yeah, I think we can win this time,” Tenn smiled softly at his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Mariana swayed their joined hands back and forth as they walked up the driveway to her uncles’ house. With an energetic knock, Mariana waited by the front door with Tenn. They heard some footsteps before Javi pulled open the door with a big grin.

“Mari! Tenn! You’re finally here!” Javi gave them both hugs before helping them with their supplies as they entered the house.

“Sorry we’re late, traffic was bad,” Tenn apologized but Javi waved his hand dismissively.

“It's all good. In fact, you must have a secret pizza sense I don’t know about, Mari, because you two arrived just after the pizza man left.” Javi smiled teasingly over at his niece.

“What can I say - it’s a gift of mine,” Mariana gave a smirk then placed down the pitcher of lemonade.

“Mari!” Nurgul’s gentle voice called out as she moved her way through the kitchen to give her sister-in-law a big hug. “It’s so good to see you! You too, Tenn.” Nurgul pulled back from Mariana and wrapped up Tenn in a soft hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, Nurgul,” Tenn smiled kindly while he glanced over to see Gabe had made his way over to hug his sister before Mariana began to tease him.

“Ready to get your ass kicked in Super Smash Bros again?” Mariana had a smug expression on her face.

“Yeah right. I’m winning this time!” Gabe returned the expression then looked over at Tenn. “Hey, Tenn.”

“Hey, Gabe. Should we grab some dinner?” Tenn offered. That made everyone’s attention return to the pizza. Soon all of them had grabbed paper plates and were piling their plates high with pizza. Everyone let Nurgul have first pick for pizza since they knew she would gravitate towards the margherita pizza. Once everyone had gotten pizza and salad they began to catch up on life. Santiago had quickly gotten caught up in discussing a fantasy world with Tenn who listened with a gentle smile on his face while Javi gushed about how proud he was of the pudding he and Santiago had made for dessert.

“So, Mari, when are you going to pop the question?” Santiago asked when Tenn had gone to grab some more lemonade.

“What?” Mariana’s face grew warm. “I, well, you see- Is that flour on Gabe’s beanie?” Mariana’s distraction worked for a second as Gabe swore under his breath. He had forgotten to get the beanie cleaned off before heading out.

“Alright, guys, that enough,” Nurgul reached out a hand and rested it on Gabe’s arm which made him seem to calm down from his heated argument with his sister.

“What did I miss?” Tenn sat down next to his girlfriend who wanted to speak up and warn him about what he had just stepped into.

“We were wondering about when Mariana would propose,” Javi said with a smile, making Tenn choke on his lemonade.

“Tenn!’ Mariana patted his back while he continued to lightly cough.

“Oops, maybe that was too much for Tenn to handle,” Santiago gave a teasing smile.

“You two,” Mariana glared at her uncles, trying to come up with a new distraction to get the heat off of her and Tenn. “Remember that time Gabe was getting ready to propose and he messed up his practice speech and asked where the bathroom was in Kazakh?” Mariana’s diversion worked and the table started to all talk at once about that. Gabe tried to defend himself while he pulled his beanie down to cover his ears that had grown red with embarrassment.

“I think it was very sweet that Gabe wanted to ask for my father’s blessing in Kazakh.” Nurgul smiled lovingly towards her husband and soon the conversation shifted again. Javi and Nurgul had gotten up to grab the pudding and baursak while Tenn had offered to help make tea with Santiago. After a few minutes dessert was served and everyone enjoyed the tasty sweets.

“Mmmm, this baursak is really good,” Javi exclaimed and dunked another piece of fried bread in cinnamon sugar before tossing it into his mouth.

“Aww thank you,” Nurgul smiled and took a bite of the chocolate pudding. “This is delicious too.”

“I’m glad. Santi and I have become the masters of pudding,” Javi declared proudly and sent a smile over to his husband.

Everyone continued to enjoy the pudding and baursak. Gabe ended up consuming way too much pudding and rolled onto the couch with a groan as Tenn worked with Javi to set up Super Smash Bros Ultimate.  

“Are you okay?” Nurgul asked her husband while gently rubbing his back.

“Too much pudding,” Gabe’s face was covered with his beanie.

“Sounds fake but okay,” Mariana’s words made Gabe pull up his beanie to glare at his sister.

“It’s not.”

“Whatever you say. Either way you’re losing the match.” Mariana smugly stated as Tenn walked over and sat behind her, softly wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Bold words, but all of you are losing to us!” Santiago dramatically pressed the button to select the game.

The opening song and visuals began to play before Javi worked to set up the first match.  Santiago got first pick for stage and chose Yoshi’s Island. Once that was complete all of them chose their characters. Nurgul immediately selected Jigglypuff and changed it so that her Jigglypuff had a bow on it. Nurgul smiled softly at the sight. Gabe chose Roy and Mari chose Ike while Tenn moved the analog stick towards Rosalina and Luma. Javi and Santiago were the last to select their fighters. Javi decided on Captain Falcon and Santiago went with Yoshi. The stage soon loaded and the fighters were all ready to duke it out.

“You may be wondering why I chose this stage,” Santiago pushed up his glasses with a smug smile. “It's for the home field advantage!” He pressed a series of buttons that made Yoshi get in his egg and roll directly towards Roy and Ike. Gabe and Mari dodged it easily though and before Santiago could redirect the egg it flew off the stage and he lost a life. “Damn it.”

“It’s okay, babe. You still have two lives,” Javi smiled at his husband then used a fire punch directly on Yoshi. Santiago’s eyes grew large and he chuckled.

“Oh, so that's how we’re going to play it!” Santiago charged at Javi. The two were completely lost in their own battle while Tenn and Nurgul were getting in crucial hits that would knock out the others. Gabe and Mariana had ended up losing lives easily too because they had gotten caught up in their sibling rivalry. After some heated gameplay and competitive talk, Tenn had won the first match. Rosalina and Luma struck a cute pose while the rest of the characters applauded begrudgingly.

“Good job, Tenn!” Mariana leaned back and gave her boyfriend a kiss. The romantic gesture flustered Tenn who was just as surprised as everyone else that he had won. Nurgul was the next to pick the stage and choose one of the Pokemon Stadiums. Everyone stuck with the same characters and the rivalry continued. Gabe stared at the screen. A pineapple that would heal him stood before him. The only issue was that Mariana’s character Ike was right beside it.

“Go for the pineapple, Gabe,” Mariana taunted her brother who debated on it before ultimately charging forward. It was the wrong move as Ike lifted up his sword and harshly knocked Roy off the stage.

“Damn it!” Gabe yelled and fell backwards on the couch.

“Ha, ha you always did fall for the simple traps,” Mariana smugly declared before Santiago sneak attacked her. Yoshi made a sound and stuck out his tongue, swallowing Ike before pooping him out in an egg that fell off the stage.

“Hey! Uncle Santi, no fair!” Mariana looked over at her uncle who was rather pleased with that sneak attack.

“All’s fair in love and Super Smash Bros,”

Those words fueled a fire within Mariana. “Gabe, truce! Let’s kick our uncles’ asses!”

“Wait, why am I getting targeted too?” Javi asked while he avoided a sleep attack by Nurgul before tossing a pokeball which let out a Vupix who blew fire at Jigglypuff.

“One, you’re married to Santi, and two, you just attacked my wife so all bets are off!” Gabe did a flurry of sword attacks on Captain Falcon which made Javi panic before getting competitive.

“Oh, I’m gonna teach you how to really play this game!” Javi sent a fire punch at Gabe that sent his character flying up before he used another fire attack that grabbed Roy and exploded him.

Mariana and Gabe tried their best to win. Nurugl and Tenn had already gotten all their lives used up and were watching and cheering on their significant others as they charged ahead to attack their uncles. Sadly for the siblings, Javi won that round and was pretty proud of it too.

“You just wait until we start this match!” Mariana selected the Temple stage and soon the fight continued. Javi had grabbed a mine and tossed it within the temple before using taunts to annoy the others.

“Show ya moves! Show ya moves!” Captain Falcon declared loudly and saluted.

“I’ll show you some moves!” Gabe moved his character forward and attacked only for Nurgul’s sleep attack to reach him. “What the-”

Mariana laughed. “Looks like Nurgul’s sweet lullaby put you to sleep,” she teased her brother who was growing flustered.

“Shut up,” Gabe grumbled before his eyes grew large when Nurgul set up a devastating attack while his character was still asleep. “Wait, Nuri!”

“I love you,” Nurgul said with a sweet smile before Jigglypuff viciously attacked Roy and sent him flying off the stage. “Sorry,”

“It's okay. I love you too,”

“Whoa, your wife kicked your ass,” Javi laughed and hopped forward, accidentally stepping on the spot where he had set the landmine. Within seconds Captain Falcon flew off the stage. After a few minutes all fighters had been defeated except for Mariana and Gabe. The siblings shared a look before they both slammed their thumbs on the analog sticks, making their characters dash forward. It was a close match; both of them only needed one more good hit to win. Mariana set up an attack and was sure Gabe would fall for it but to her surprise he didn’t and made her waste an attack, leaving herself wide open for the finishing blow.

“I win!” Gabe used a harsh sword attack and threw his sister off the stage. He jumped up and cheered loudly as Roy stood with his victory pose.

“This is just the beginning,” Mariana’s words made Gabe sit down and soon the matches continued. Everyone was really getting into the game and having a blast. It was another great family game night together.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (39/?)

AO3 link HERE (due to formatting errors on tumblr, clicking the link is recommended)

S1, OP2

Music 1

“Okay... the oil should be hot enough now.”

Kyouka moved her hand away from the top of the uncovered pan and turned towards me. She nodded, her blue eyes serious.

“Go ahead.”

Swallowing nervously, I nodded back.

“Okay. Here I go...”

“ You’ve got this, Kusunoki- san! ” Atsushi cried, cheering me on from behind a splatter screen as I slowly tilted the bowl of beaten egg mixture over the pan. “ I believe in you!”

But the moment the egg hit the oil and started to fry, he ducked back down behind the screen to hide.

Ignoring him, I kept my eyes on the omelette sizzling in the pan, determined not to let this one burn like the last two had.

“Good,” Kyouka said quietly, peering at the stovetop from behind my elbow.

So she was hiding too...

“Now leave it alone and let it cook. Once it looks solid enough— ”

She turned towards the sink, where the charred remains of a ruined square pan lay smoldering in the sink. I shrank in on myself as she glared up at me.

“You can start rolling it. I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you this time. ”

Sweating a little and smiling weakly, I nodded again.

“Yes, ma’am...”

I went back to staring at the omelette, praying that I wouldn’t ruin this one like the others. It was already seven in the morning. I had barely managed to get the rice balls done correctly as it was. If I kept going like this, there was no way I would have Kunikida’s bento lunch done in time for our day together!

And then...!

Inwardly, I squirmed.

My entire plan would be ruined...!

I sighed.

Just two days ago, I had felt unstoppable. It was a week after I’d closed Professor Matsuyama’s case. Every last report had been finally turned in. My entire backlog gone. Even Dazai had seemed unusually focused for the past several days and I’d managed to finish every last piece of work unbothered for the first time since, well, ever. I’d just been packing up for the day and getting ready to go home to play video games when Yosano called out to me from her side of the room...

“Kyou-chan!”

I looked up from my bag as Yosano approached.

“Come with me for a second.”

And without waiting for me to even give a response, she grabbed the back of my shirt and literally started dragging me away.

“ Yosano-sensei!” I yelped as she tore me away from my desk. “ What are you doing —?!”

“Just hush up and come here.”

And that’s when we passed the infirmary. I quickly realized I was not about to be dissected and stopped struggling immediately.

I nervously met her glance.

“Uh... Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we’re not goin g to be overheard,” she replied casually.

Her purple eyes twinkled as she glanced down at me and I was abruptly and involuntarily reminded of Dazai .

“I’m giving you a special assignment ...”

And as we arrived at the conference room at last, she opened the door and shoved me in. I heard the subtle click of the lock behind me as I got up and dusted myself off.

“This is a secret assignment,” Yosano said, turning to face me. “And it comes straight from the President himself. So make sure you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone else, okay?”

At that, my ears perked up.

“A secret assignment?” I sputtered, rounding on her, my eyes huge. “From P-President Fukuzawa?!”

W-what kind of special assignment would President Fukuzawa give someone like me?!

And why was it secret?!

W as it s omething massive ly important or particularly special?! But if that were the case, why not hand it to Kunikida or Dazai or someone far more competent than me?!

“Calm down, Kyou-chan,” Yosano said quickly, raising her black-gloved hands up in an appeasing gesture. “It’s nothing big or scary. It’s actually quite simple.”

She paused to think for a second.

She frowned.

“Okay, maybe not that simple, but we do think it’s a job you’re well-suited for. We were originally going to give it to Dazai but then we realized it really was better to ask you.”

Huh?

I blinked.

They were asking me to do an assignment in Dazai’s stead?

“What’s the assignment?” I asked, confused.

“ We need you...” Yosano said, taking a deep breath in.

Her face turned deadly serious.

“To distract Kunikida.”

My jaw hit the floor.

“HUH?!!”

“ He hasn’t taken a day off in almost a full year,” Yosano sighed, rubbing her temple with one black-gloved hand. “He’s been pretty stressed out the last couple days thanks to his latest big-shot client and his blood pressure lately’s been through the roof.”

She shook her head, her dark hair flying about her face.

“It’s way too high for someone his age. If this keeps up, he’ll keel over and drop dead before Dazai does!”

I balked.

I didn’t know a thing about medical science, but if Yosano was saying this... Just how bad was Kunikida’s stress?!

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Yosano said quickly, correctly recognizing the look on my face. “He’ll be okay. As long as he learns to relax a little more and take his breaks when he needs to, I think he’ll live a long, healthy life! Probably.”

Not entirely convinced, I nodded slowly.

“So, here’s the thing,” she continued, understanding that she now had my full attention. “The president is forcing— I mean, asking Kunikida to take a day off. Next week. For his health. Now, normally, Kunikida will follow any order the president gives but for something like this, we’re not sure if he’ll be able to do it on his own .”

She frowned.

“You see, he likes to plan things out to the letter and we’re concerned that he’ll find a way to sneak some work in here or there. Either that or overplan his day to the point where it’s not relaxing any more. So!”

She jabbed her finger at me.

“That’s where you come in,” she declared. “Your job is to make sure Kunikida Doppo spends the whole day relaxing, even if it kills him!”

WHAT?!

“It’s just for one day,” Yosano elaborated. “You just finished up a big case and it seems like you got through your entire backlog just now. So, we’re asking you to do it because you could probably use a short break yourself.”

She beamed.

“ That means you’re getting the day off too!”

Ah...

I felt a grim smile come to my face.

So that meant they weren’t paying me to do any of this...

“ We’re counting on you, Kyou-chan,” Yosano said, clapping her hand on my shoulder. “ If it’s you, I know you’ll be able to help. But...”

She tightened her grip on my shoulder and I felt an instinctive rush of fear.

“If he comes anywhere within a five-hundred meter radius of this office ,” she declared, grinning maniacally.

Even though she was carrying no weapons, I could picture the shine of her cleaver held at the ready above my head.

“ It’ll be on your head...”

Shuddering at the memory, I kept my focus on the thin layer of egg cooking in the pan in front of me.

So that’s why I was here.

My job, as it was forced on me, was to accompany Kunikida for the day and make sure he didn’t try to do any work. While Yosano had said something to the effect of “break his cell phone if you have to,” I had no plans to do anything of the sort.

I had a much better idea...

I felt a tiny grin coming to my face as I saw the egg begin to puff up in the pan.

If I wanted to keep Kunikida away from the office for an entire day, then what better way to do so than with a nice day out on the town? It wouldn’t be a date exactly, but there couldn’t be any harm in, say, taking Kunikida out to a bunch of places that I thought he might like? Or getting up early to make him a bento box lunch from scratch, so he wouldn’t want to go back to the Uzumaki Cafe? Or in dressing up a little nicer than usual since I was going to be spending an entire day with him?

It’s what his ideal woman would do, right?

Picking up my chopsticks, I started rolling up the egg.

Thinking back on it, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I was already thinking about confessing to Kunikida by the end of this week. What better way to do it than after a day like this?

And maybe...

I felt my cheeks warm as I poured in the second layer of egg.

Maybe today would go so well that he would consider returning my feelings, or at least giving me a chance...!

I just had to make sure everything went according to plan.

“Kusunoki-san!”

Atsushi was suddenly at my shoulder, his duochrome eyes wide. I realized he had lowered the splatter screen “shield.”

“I think you’re actually doing it!”

I tried not to take offense.

“Thanks...”

“No, really!” he said, pausing to sniff the air.

I thought I saw him wipe away a fleck of drool, his golden eyes bright as he eyed the growing log of egg in the pan.

“It looks great!”

“Want the first slice, then?” I asked, surprising even myself.

Atsushi stared at me.

“R-really?” he blurted out. “Is that okay? I mean you’re going to all this trouble for Kunikida-sa—”

His question was cut short by Kyouka elbowing him in the stomach.

“Really,” I said, nodding as I transferred the cooked tamagoyaki out of the pan and onto a bamboo sushi rolling mat.

Taking care not to burn my hands, I finished compacting the egg log and cut him a slice. As I held it out to Atsushi , who gleefully took it from me with a pair of chopsticks he produced out of nowhere, I was suddenly reminded of the last time I’d tried feeding a stray cat outside the ADA building.

The tiger-boy grinned and opened his mouth.

“Itadakimasu!”

He took a bite.

I was sweating. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as I watched the boy in front of me gleefully chew. Then, he swallowed.

“ It’s good!” he exclaimed, shooting me an excited look . “It’s actually really good!”

He quickly scarfed down the rest of his egg.

“I think Kunikida-san would be happy to eat something like this.”

I clapped my egg-covered hands over my mouth.

“Really!?” I squeaked, hardly believing his words. “You really mean that?!”

“Yes, really!”

I wasn’t sure who looked more excited—Atsushi or me.

“In fact...!”

He stepped up to the chopping board, where the rest of the tamagoyaki lay steaming on its thin plastic surface.

“Let me show you something.”

Picking up the knife, Atsushi cut off a thick slice and laid it down on the board.

“If you cut this slice in half diagonally,” he said cheerfully, demonstrating as I watched, “and then place the two halves together like this...”

He laid it out on the board with a grin.

“Y ou can make a heart!”

“ H -h eart-shaped tamagoyaki ...” I stuttered, staring at it.

For Kunikida’s bento?!

My face instantly burst into flame.

Atsushi nodded.

“Yeah, it’s really cute and I think it would be perfect for your da —OW!”

He doubled over, groaning in pain as Kyouka elbowed him in the stomach again.

“Kusunoki-san.”

Shoving her roommate aside, Kyouka stepped forward. She presented me with the nearly completed bento box, the rest of the foods we’d finished cooking this morning neatly nestled alongside a bed of freshly cooked rice.

“Love is a woman’s battle,” she said, her blue eyes bright.

She held up the box.

“Good luck!!”

“Kyouka-chan...!” I whispered.

I was actually tearing up. I couldn’t help it ! Seeing her there next to me, in her cute little apron, with her hair tied up and the purest smile on her face— I was about to step forward and envelop her in a crushing hug when I realized she was holding onto the lunch boxes I’d worked so hard to prepare. Coughing a little, I dropped into as low of a bow as I could manage.

“Thank you!! Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing,” Kyouka mumbled quickly, her cheeks reddening in an adorable blush. “I only hope I was a suitable teacher.”

You were, you were!” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “I’ll return the favor someday, I promise—”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kyouka said quickly. “Just...”

And as one, we turned to the sink, where the pile of dirty dishes had grown to the size of a small tower. I was instantly reminded of the moldering dishes that had collected in Tayama Katai’s sink.

I grimaced as Kyouka quietly mumbled her request:

“Just help me wash the dishes before you go.”

“Alright, then. I’m off!”

Tucking the finished set of bento boxes into the cute little bag I’d specifically chosen for this occasion, I hoisted the thick strap over my shoulder and turned to face my hosts.

“Thank you so much for everything today, Atsushi-kun, Kyouka-chan! I won’t forget this, I swear!”

“Don’t worry about it, Kusunoki-san!” Atsushi said quickly, ushering me towards the door. “You’ve already thanked us enough. Just hurry up and get going or you’re going to be late!”

“It’ll be okay, Atsushi-kun!” I declared, taking out the tiny notepad I’d bought just for today (green, just like Kunikida’s!) and flipping it open to show him my plans. “I have everything completely planned out. The next bus doesn’t arrive for another ten minutes. And if I miss this bus—”

I flipped to the next memo.

“Then I can just run to the nearest train station, take the next train and run to get the meeting location on time! And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just call a taxi—”

“Oh my God,” Atsushi whispered, his face color changing to an unsettling shade of blue as he stared at my itinerary, “you really do have it all planned out. As expected of someone tasked with distracting Kunikida-san all day... it’s almost too much...”

I blinked at him.

“Is it...?”

“Kusunoki-san?”

Drying a dish in her tiny hands, Kyouka emerged from the kitchen area.

“Good luck,” she said, her blue eyes bright. “I hope it goes well!” “‘Goes well?’” Atsushi repeated, looking confused. “What does that mean—”

“D-Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled awkwardly, my face going pink. “Anyway, I’ll see you guys tomorrow! Have a nice day at work!”

And with that, I grabbed the doorknob and let myself out into the hallway, Atsushi and Kyouka following me as far as the foyer to see me off.

“You too, Kusunoki-san!” Atsushi called after me as I headed down the hall, waving. “Have a nice day!”

Breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed at last, I took my notepad back out and held it in front of me.

“Is it really too much?” I mumbled, scanning down the list of things I’d planned to do.

8:00 am: meet Kunikida at the park by the ADA dorms.

8:02 am: small talk

8:06 am: walk from the park to a nearby coffee shop

8:09 am: order coffee

8:19 am: spend time at the coffee shop

9:01 am: leave coffee shop

9:11 am: arrive at bookstore on next street

9:31 am: leave bookstore

9:32 am: window shop (?)

9:48 am: head to train station

9:50 am: board train

10:13 am: get off train

10:17 am: arrive at Yokohama Marine Tower

10:41 am: leave Yokohama Marine Tower

10:46 am: arrive at Yamashita Park

10:47 am: look at the flowers (10 min per flower bed!)

12:30 pm: Lunch break

1:34 pm: leave Yamashita Park

1:43 pm: Walk around Chinatown.

2:14 pm: leave Chinatown

“...”

I stopped walking down the hallway to stare at the list.

Compared to Kunikida’s notebook, this really didn’t seem that unmanageable...

But then again...

I made a face as I kept scrolling through the next couple pages of memos.

Maybe Atsushi was right and it really was a little ambitious.

I forgot to schedule in bathroom breaks...

“Will thirty minutes really be enough at the bookstore?” I mumbled to myself as I resumed walking. “Maybe I shouldn’t drink that much coffee...”

Bookstores, museums, bento lunch at the park, stationary stores and fishing...

I felt an odd twinge in my chest as I scrolled through the list. I’d worked really hard to put together this schedule, even staying up a little later than usual so that I could research every location. Everything that was on here was here for a reason. Some, like the bookstore, were there because I either thought or heard that Kunikida had an interest in them. Others, like the trip to Yamashita Park, were there because I’d heard...

I felt my face warm as I stared at the flower I’d drawn next to the kanji.

Because I’d heard that they were good date spots...

I lowered the notebook with a small, wistful sigh.

I’d planned everything out to the letter, even copied the kind of scheduling I thought Kunikida might approve of, even though it had nearly killed me to do so.

And I did it because...

My fingers tightened around the notebook.

I wanted Kunikida to like me. I really, really wanted him to like me and I was willing to do anything it took if it meant that he might begin to see me the way I saw him...

Even if it was just a slim possibility.

Feeling strangely determined, I stuffed the notebook into my pocket and proceeded down the hall.

If I could just hear those four little words... If I could just hear Kunikida Doppo say to me once, “I like you, too...”

Then it would all be worth it.

But just as I came to the end of the sunlit hall, I thought I saw something flashing on the wall to my right. I stopped in my tracks.

“Huh?”

Blinking, I took a step towards it.

It was a name plate: a square of shiny, rectangular glass, under which was a small card bearing the name of the occupant within.

My eyes widened.

“Dazai... Osamu.”

I nearly dropped the bag.

Here?

Dazai lived here?

I felt something strange passing through my body as I stood there staring at the name plate, the glass shining as brightly in the morning sun as the full moon had that unusually wintry night...

“You don’t have to say yes right away, Kusunoki-san.”

I took a step forward, towards the door.

“Take your time, think about it. Just know that if you ever change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.”

Standing there beside me at the wrought-metal gates, Dazai paused for a moment and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

“Actually, maybe you don’t. I should probably give you my number.”

My cell phone, buried deep in my coat pocket, clunked softly against my thigh as I took another couple steps towards Dazai’s front door.

Text received. My burner cell buzzed noisily in my jacket and, pocketing his own device, Dazai smiled.

The name plate was right in front of me, the kanji neat and dark upon the white paper card within.

“My apartment’s not very far from here. If you ever need anything, anything at all...”

I reached out.

Dazai winked, his grin as cheerful as ever.

“Just give me a call. I promise...”

My fingers came to a rest on the name plate, just below Dazai’s name.

“I’ll be right over.”

So...

I bit my lip.

This is what he meant when he said he lived nearby...

Dazai, like Atsushi and Kyouka, lived at the company dorm, just one short train ride away from my apartment.

He was only two doors down and I’d been making quite the racket this morning when I was cooking—or rather, failing at cooking.

How much had he heard? Did he know why I was cooking at Atsushi and Kyouka’s apartment?

My fingers lingered on the name plate.

Should I talk to him? Tell him I was only here because I’d been given a special assignment? That I was going to be out all day today because of it?

My fingers curled in on themselves, like a fist against the name plate.

Should I tell him that I was planning to confess to Kunikida today?

I brought my folded fingers to my chest and sighed.

No. I shouldn’t say anything. Knowing Dazai, he’d probably take this as an excuse to mess with me or derail my plans or something to that effect.

Besides, he probably wasn’t even home...

I stared at the door.

But then, where would he be? It wasn’t like him to come to the Agency early so that he could get a head start on the workday.

I stood before the door, my left hand curled into a fist against my chest, my right curled around the bag of bento boxes.

Maybe I should just say hi. Just real quick. He is still one of my mentors, after all...

Slowly, I lifted my hand towards the door.

Suddenly, someone kicked a door open down the hall with an ear-shattering BANG. Startled, I jumped and moved away from the door just in time to see Atsushi coming through the door with a large trash bag in his hands.

“Kusunoki-san, you’re still here?” Atsushi called, gawping at me with his big golden eyes. “Don’t you have a bus to catch?!”

Behind him, Kyouka quickly poked her head out the open door.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, brandishing a cooking knife at me, her blue eyes sharp. “Get going, right now!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I shrieked, throwing my hands in the air like a thief who’d just been caught.

And before she could throw the knife at me, I sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet as I made it out of the courtyard. As if on cue, the bus pulled in to the bus stop just as I arrived at the loading zone and I quickly followed the rest of the morning commuters inside.

Luckily for me, it was relatively empty and I was able to find a seat by one of the windows on the right side. Taking care not to jostle the bento boxes too much, I sat down, breathing a sigh of relief only when the bus began to crawl down the street.

But as I took out my mirror to check my reflection, to make sure my makeup was still in decent condition, I caught sight of the Agency apartment complex, in the distance, with its corrugated red roof and pale, softly streaked walls. I watched quietly as the corner room on the second floor, the room I’d been standing in front of not two minutes ago, slowly grew smaller and faded into the distance.

With a heavy creaking and groaning of wheels, the bus turned the corner.

Dazai’s apartment disappeared from sight.

To the gods out there who kept me alive long enough to see this day...

I paused at the edge of the sidewalk, just outside the park, unable to take another step forward, for fear of ruining the perfect image in front of me: Kunikida Doppo, sitting on a park bench on the hill, his tall figure bathed in the warm glow of the morning light, his dirty-blonde hair shining like finespun gold.

Kunikida-san... sitting there waiting for me...!

I seriously thought I was going to cry.

Thank you...

Kunikida-san... He always looked so handsome and well-put-together when he was at the office, with his broad shoulders and long legs, sitting at his desk in his beige vest and slacks.

But today...

I felt my cheeks warm as I quietly observed him from afar.

Today, I got to see him in a way that I’d never seen him before. Today, Kunikida was dressed in casual wear. Well, sort of. That navy blue blazer had clearly been tailored to fit his body (and it did. Very well, actually) and those brown shoes on his feet were just a little on the fancy side, but he was still sitting there on that bench wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. I watched as he crossed and uncrossed his long, slim legs, his beautiful, sage-colored eyes never leaving the pages of his little green notebook.

He looked great.

Grinning stupidly to myself, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, getting ready to snap a photo. I knew I probably looked like some kind of a creep, but I had to commemorate this moment. How often was the lighting as perfect as the subject? Maybe if he agreed to be my boyfriend (a girl could dream, couldn’t she?), he might forgive me and we’d have a good laugh about it.

But just as I had him all lined up in the viewfinder, Kunikida looked up and spotted me from across the way. His gray-green eyes met mine through the screen and I actually threw my phone into the air in shock.

“K-Kunikida-san!” I stammered, trying at once to both regain my composure and catch my phone. “G-Good morning! Were you waiting long?”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I thought I heard the “snap” of the photo being taken.

Shit. Had he heard?!

I hurried to stuff it away in my pocket before Kunikida could notice.

“No, not really,” Kunikida said politely.

Rising from the bench, he tucked his notebook into a hidden pocket of his blazer and walked towards me. Behind him, the morning sun framed his golden hair like a halo, the gray tone of his eyes softening into something more vibrant and green.

“Don’t worry.”

Stopping just before me on the path, he inclined his head in greeting.

“I only just arrived.”

Ahh...

How many times had I dreamed of having this exact conversation with him? The customary pleasantries exchanged when you finally meet up for a date?

I’m so happy I could die ...!

Suddenly spotting the colorful little bag hanging at my side, Kunikida raised an eyebrow and gestured towards it.

“Hey...” he said slowly. “Is the pattern on that canvas bag actually just a bunch of Pikach—”

“Ah, would you look at the time!” I cried, pulling my own miniature notebook out of my pocket and flipping to the appropriate page. “We should really get going if we want to get to the cafe on time!”

I jerked around and robotically made for the street, the heels of my shoes clicking awkwardly against the sidewalk as I moved.

“We’ve got a busy schedule today, you know!”

Kunikida blinked at me.

“‘Busy schedule?’” he repeated, sounding surprised.

Had I said the magic words? Was he going to be pleased?

I nodded, suddenly filled with a renewed sense of determination.

“Yeah!” I said, briefly lifting my notebook up to show him. “I’ve got our entire day planned out right here in this little notebook. So, Kunikida-san!”

I turned and shot him a grin over my shoulder.

“Please leave everything to me.”

I’ll make sure you have the most relaxing day ever!

For a moment, Kunikida grew quiet. I watched as the handsome, blonde detective slowly looked from the notebook to me. Finally, he nodded, a tiny smile gracing his features.

“Sounds good,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Lead the way, Kusunoki-kun.”

Smiling, I pulled open my maps and turned back towards the street.

“Yes, sir!”

Atsushi-kun was right...

Wobbling a little on my feet, I collapsed against the inner wall of the observation deck of the Yokohama Marine Tower.

My schedule really was too ambitious...

When I’d first gotten the idea to distract Kunikida by taking him out for a day of fun around Yokohama, I’d thought my task would be relatively straightforward. I figured, as long as I did the research and put in the time necessary to craft a perfect schedule, I would succeed. Little did I know how wrong I was.

Things went off the rails almost as soon as we’d left the park.

Our first stop was a local coffee shop. I’d specifically chosen this cafe because Shimeko told me that they were famous for their Caffe Americano’s, Kunikida’s go-to drink at the Uzumaki Cafe. I could already smell the coffee from down the street and in my excitement, I turned to look at Kunikida, hoping to see that he was just as excited as I was. But just when I was about to open my mouth to talk, I was interrupted by the sound of Kunikida’s cell phone ringing.

Before I could stop him, he reached into his pocket and picked it up.

“Hello?” he answered, his tone professional.

He frowned.

“Ah. Yeah. Yes, I understand.”

He nodded.

“Rest assured, I’ll have it done by noon tomorrow. Alright, then.”

He hung up, pocketed his phone and took out his little green notebook. Without slowing his pace or looking up at the street ahead, Kunikida took out a familiar black fountain pen from inside his blazer and wrote something down. I waited apprehensively for the scratching of the pen to subside before asking my question.

“Uh... Kunikida-san?”

“Hm?”

He glanced down at me, his gray-green eyes calm.

“Yes, Kusunoki-kun?”

I tried not to make a face.

“...what are you doing?”

“Writing myself a reminder,” Kunikida replied, tucking his notebook back into his blazer. “That was a client I’d just picked up a few days ago. He wants me to follow up on a report.”

“Is... is that what you were doing?” I asked, sweat dripping down my temple. “Are you trying to—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kusunoki-kun,” Kunikida replied crisply, glancing back up ahead at the road. “This isn’t technically work. Yosano-sensei told me everything, so please rest assured, I will do everything in my power to relax.”

But I could already see the way his hand twitched in his pocket, wrapping around his phone.

“R-right...”

I tried to put a smile on my face as the cafe came into view.

“I understand. As long as you’re not actually doing any work and you stay relaxed, okay?”

For both our sakes—Yosano really seemed like she meant it when she said it would “be on my head.”

But little did I know my troubles were only beginning.

“It’s not technically work.” But it wasn’t “technically” fun, either.

When we got to the cafe, I was forced to watch as Kunikida grilled the barista on everything from the beans they used to the temperature of the roast, only giving up when the terrified young man offered to give him a discount on his order in place of divulging trade secrets. I was too embarrassed to step in and say anything, much less be seen with him (or worse, asked to take responsibility as his kohai), so I just stood there quietly in the back and waited for my latte and chocolate croissant until it was over. As soon as it was, I ushered Kunikida out with the promise of a nice quiet stroll in the park, all plans of staying for a pleasant chat in the small, but atmospheric shop gone.

I could never show my face in that cafe again.

Luckily, the park was relatively empty and we were able to find another bench to sit on pretty quickly. I was half-wondering if it would be too much to offer him a bite of my croissant (wouldn’t me taking a bite after be an indirect kiss?! Could I really be so bold?!) when I looked to my right and realized he was writing in his notebook again.

“Kunikida-san...” I asked dully. “What are you doing?”

“Taking notes,” Kunikida replied. “I managed to figure out a few things from my conversation with the barista.”

“...About coffee?”

Kunikida paused for a moment.

“Not quite,” he said. “Something he said reminded me of a case I was working on last week and I think I might have a new lead to give to the police officers working with me. I thought I’d write it down before I forgot.”

He closed his notebook and picked up his drink.

“Besides,” he said, taking a sip. “It’s good to wait a few minutes after exercising to enjoy food or beverages like this. It’s better for your stomach.”

“Right...”

And on and on it went.

When we got to the bookstore for the poetry event, the first poet was late. It seemed he was nursing a hangover and so, Kunikida just had to take him aside to lecture him on his professionalism. Surprisingly though, the drunkard actually thanked Kunikida for verbally tearing him a new one and we left the shop with a couple of free copies of the man’s most recently published work.

I wasn’t sure if I could say anything or not because this “technically” wasn’t work either (and I wasn’t going to say no to free books).

Then, when we were walking on the street to do some window shopping (I was secretly hoping to take Kunikida to a nearby stationary store I’d discovered), we heard a piercing shriek. A woman was being robbed in broad daylight right in front of us! At once, Kunikida sprang into action, chasing down the thief and leveling him with a flying kick to the back. Then, while my mentor was using his Ability to produce a set of handcuffs to secure the thief, I got the woman’s purse back and stayed with her until she calmed down. It was only after the police arrived that I realized I had been pulled into Kunikida’s workaholic antics this time.

I slapped my hands over my face and groaned.

Well... At least Yosano didn’t say I had to refrain from doing anything work-related... Not verbatim, anyway. But how was I supposed to just stand aside and do nothing when I was a member of the Armed Detective Agency, myself?

Several people walked away from me as I tightened my grip over my face and heard my groan change into a soft, pained whine.

Perhaps Yosano was right. If I spent enough time with Kunikida, perhaps I would turn into a four-eyed workhorse as well. My vision was already getting fuzzier than before. But that was probably from the stress...

Letting out one final sigh, I peered through my fingers at the large, slanted windows ahead, watching tiredly as Kunikida leaned against the railing and gazed out across Yokohama Bay, his expression placid as he watched the ships go by.

Well...

I felt my cheeks warm as I saw a tiny smile cross his face.

At least one of us seems pretty relaxed right now.

Smiling softly, I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and walked towards him.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Yeah.”

Kunikida nodded, the smile never leaving his face.

“It’s really something when the weather’s nice,” he said, still staring out across the water. “I’ve been up here before but never on a day like this.”

I faltered.

“You’ve been here before?”

Kunikida nodded again.

“I have,” he said, his gray-green eyes flicking down to me. “Shortly after I joined the Agency. Ranpo-san insisted on coming up to see the view and, well...”

He chuckled softly.

“I think you know how he is with directions.”

I made a face.

“Yeah. I remember.”

Hoping to chase away the flashbacks of the stressful day I’d spent in Edogawa’s company, I turned towards the window as well, my smile only returning when I spotted the Yokohama Bay Bridge in the distance, shining like a beacon in the harbor.

Kunikida was right.

It really was a beautiful view...

“By the way, Kusunoki-kun...?”

“Hm?”

I glanced back up.

Huh?

Kunikida was looking at me. Directly at me. In a way I wasn’t quite sure he’d ever looked at me before.

I felt my heart begin to race as he tilted his head slightly, his expression pensive.

“Something I noticed earlier,” he said haltingly.

His gray-green eyes raked up and down my form and at once, I felt my face grow warm. Kunikida rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and spoke.

“You seem a little taller than usual today,” he pointed out, glancing back down at my shoes.

His eyebrows drew together.

“Do you normally wear heels on your days off?”

“Oh. Uh...”

I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear and smiled shyly up at him.

“Not... really,” I mumbled, looking away.

Even though I’d chosen reasonably short heels, it was that much harder to look at him when our faces were a lot closer together than before.

“I used to,” I answered truthfully, “back when I was still a student...”

I trailed off for a moment as a distant memory slowly resurfaced in the back of my mind—a memory of being dragged down the streets of Motomachi by an old friend.

A memory from “before.”

I closed my eyes and breathed out.

“You see... I had this friend,” I recalled, smiling softly. “She was a part-time model—always insisted we both look our best whenever we went out into the city. You know, because ‘we were young’ and ‘why not.’”

I glanced down at my shoes, a pair of reasonably tall wedge heels I’d picked out on that very shopping trip.

“And that usually meant wearing heels...”

I leaned forward and propped my arms up on the railing, staring out the window at the shining, blue waves.

“I think I last saw her a year ago but it feels like it’s been much longer...”

I grew quiet and dropped my gaze, my eyes following the lines of a couple of sailboats as they slowly drifted in towards the pier. I felt, rather than heard, Kunikida falling silent beside me.

“I see,” he murmured, after a pause.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring out across the harbor together and solemnly watching the ships go by. As time slowly passed, I heard Kunikida’s soft exhale from somewhere near my left and I thought heard him mumbling something under his breath. His voice was soft.

“It really does, doesn’t it...?”

I blinked.

“Kunikida-san?”

And as I lifted my face to look at him, Kunikida glanced down at me and rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. Then, he dropped his hand.

“Kusunoki. Come here for a second.”

I balked.

“Huh?”

And before I knew what was happening, Kunikida suddenly took my hand.

Kuni/Kyou Theme

He quietly pulled me away from the bay-facing windows.

I instantly went red.

“Kunikida-san?!” I sputtered, stumbling after him as we made for the opposite side of the observation tower. “W-where are we going?”

“I have something I want to show you,” the tall detective replied, without glancing back. “Follow me.”

Falling silent, I followed, trailing after him like an obedient puppy as we walked around the center section of the observation deck.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his broad back.

This was nothing like the time he’d saved me from Akutagawa at the art gallery...

Back then, his hand had been around my wrist, his grip as strong as an iron vise, the air around us filled with smoke and dust and fear. Today, his hand was wrapped loosely around mine, his fingers curling softly around my palm, his touch radiating warmth and tenderness. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think his hand was maybe just a touch sweaty.

But that didn’t make sense.

I felt something stirring in my chest as Kunikida led me past a rather cozy-looking couple, walking hand in hand towards the bay-facing windows.

If Kunikida’s hand was just a little sweaty while he was holding mine... wouldn’t that mean he was a little nervous...?

And if he was a little nervous...

I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest as a crazy thought crossed my mind.

Wouldn’t that mean that Kunikida might possibly like me back?

But before I could figure out if it was my hand that was sweaty or his, Kunikida stopped walking and let go.

My palm tingled.

“Over there,” Kunikida said, guiding me towards a specific window.

He pushed me forward by the back of my shoulder and pointed to a spot in the distance.

“Take a look at that spot to the southwest. Do you see something familiar?”

“Something familiar?” I repeated, curious.

Kunikida nodded as I walked forwards, towards the windows.

Putting my hands on the railing, I leaned forward, squinting ahead into the distance. Then, I spotted a familiar red-brick building in the midst of a forest of gray and white.

I gasped.

“It’s the Agency!”

“It is,” Kunikida said proudly, striding forward to stand next to me. “I still remember the day I first saw it here, after I’d just joined.”

He glanced down at me, looking pleased with himself.

“Ranpo-san challenged me to look for it. Said that the first person to spot it got free drinks from the vending machine from the losers. He won easily, of course, but we didn’t really mind. As you can see, not much has changed since then.”

“No kidding,” I laughed, taking a step back.

Smiling, I looked up at my mentor.

“Kunikida-san. Thank you.”

This time, it was Kunikida’s turn to blink.

“For what?” he asked, looking amused. “Showing you this?”

“For always taking such good care of me,” I said, quickly looking back at the ADA building as my face grew even warmer. “A-and for showing me this.”

There was a pause. And then, I heard a quiet laugh.

Shocked, I whipped my head to the side just in time to see Kunikida put his hand over his mouth. He quickly coughed and looked away, cheeks going pink.

“Actually, Kusunoki,” he said quietly, “I should be thanking you. Yosano-sensei told me you volunteered to help take my mind off of work today and I can tell you’re putting in a lot of effort.”

He glanced back at me, his smile growing just a touch sheepish.

“You’ve really come a long way since the day you started with us, haven’t you?” Kunikida asked, his gray-green eyes warm.

I...

I thought back to everything that had happened since I was first rescued by Dazai and Kunikida. I thought about the Entrance Exam, dodging Kyouka and parrying Yasha Shirayuki with a pair of office scissors as my handcuffs finally broke. I thought about the serial kidnapping case, the Tanedas sitting in the interrogation room as I backed away, my chair clattering loudly in the cold, empty room. I thought about pulling Edogawa out of the pot in the ground in the collapsed house. Dazai patting my head in the office, warm sunlight streaming in. Akutagawa, chasing me around the parking garage as I ran for my life, a single plastic lighter gripped tightly in my hand. Professor Matsuyama and his wife, each visiting the grave of their beloved friend, confessing their perceived sins to me, a complete and total stranger.

I swallowed dryly.

“I guess I have...” I mumbled quietly.

A warm hand descended on my shoulder.

Kunikida nodded. He looked proud.

“You did well... Kusunoki.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Was this it?

I felt my grip tighten on my bag. My hands felt clammy with nerves.

Was this the moment? We still had half the day to go and I hadn’t even given him the lunchbox but...

This mood...

I felt my lips part.

Everything suddenly felt just right.

“Kunikida-san...”

“Hm?”

He still hadn’t taken his hand off my shoulder.

“I...”

I steeled myself.

Here goes nothing...!

“I...!”

Something suddenly chimed loudly in the gloom. I froze.

“Uh, what’s that noise?” Kunikida asked.

His hand slid off my shoulder as my pocket continued to ring.

Shit.

As quick as I could, I jammed my hand deep into my pocket and seized my phone. The ringing stopped at once.

“It’s my alarm,” I mumbled, embarrassed.

I couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I, uh...”

I squirmed.

“I set this alarm for lunch hour,” I said, tugging the strap of my brightly colored bag a little higher over my shoulder. “It seems we weren’t able to stick to the schedule, what with everything that happened.”

“Oh...”

Kunikida suddenly went red.

“I’m... I’m so sorry, Kusunoki-kun!” he groaned, slapping one large hand over his face. “For someone like me to be unable to stick to a proper schedule—and a schedule my kohai set up for me on a day like this...!”

Grimacing like he was physically in pain, Kunikida took his hand off his face and bent forward at a perfect ninety-degree angle bow.

“Please forgive me!”

“I-it’s really nothing!” I stammered, also going red.

I waved my hands in front of him in an attempt to get him to snap out of it.

“P-please, Kunikida-san... Please get up, people are going to stare...!”

“You’re right,” he exclaimed, instantly straightening up. “Causing a ruckus in public would bring shame to the Agency!”

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he turned away from the windows and swiftly walked towards the elevators.

“Come, Kusunoki-kun, let’s go have lunch. I promise, from now on, I will do whatever it takes to stick to your schedule.”

“Y-you don’t have to be that strict with it,” I stammered, chasing after him as he headed for the center of the room.

Crap. Should I have been more strict with it?!

“It’s okay! As long as you’re relaxing...!”

“I appreciate your flexibility,” Kunikida said, shooting me a curt, professional nod as I caught up to him. “Once again, you have my thanks.”

And as the light above the elevator doors lit up at last, Kunikida suddenly turned to me and cleared his throat.

“By the way...”

I looked up and instantly flinched. Kunikida had suddenly gone as white as a sheet.

“Do you mind not telling Yosano-sensei about the thief we stopped earlier?” he asked. “She said that if she caught me doing any kind of work today on my ‘day off,’ she was going to dissect me in a way that would ensure I would never have any problems with my body again.”

I instantly went rigid, my thoughts going straight to the memory of Yosano raising her machete above my head.

I swallowed nervously and shot him a watery grin.

“Y-you got it.”

Kunikida breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Kusunoki. I owe you one.”

But I shook my head.

“Don’t worry, Kunikida-san,” I told him as the elevator doors opened.

I followed him inside and grinned up at him as the doors finally closed.

“I won’t say a word.”

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 08 || Share Our Talents

The two of them had been at each other’s necks all day, a little more than usual. On the one hand, Max generally seemed to be playing around with Henry or at the very least, unaware of how much he was bothering him. But, he definitely had to be purposely upsetting him today. Charlotte… didn’t want to get involved. In general, she was a peacemaker, and specifically, she was their peacemaker. But… This was supposed to be a fun weekend!

She had been having a blast with Oyster, who wanted her to try to do his hair like hers. “Your hair isn’t the right texture for this style.”

“Can you do it to Angus?” He wondered. Angus’ afro was 3c, maybe 4a, so close enough to her curl pattern where she might.

“What makes you think that Angus wants this hairstyle, Oyster?” Charlotte asked.

“I’ll take it,” Angus said, laughing. Charlotte then proceeded to make rows of braids on the sides of Angus’ head, pulling up into a fro hawk, as he played videogames.

On the other side of the room, Henry glared at Max and Ray came up with a plan, “Look at that! Look at that!” He said.

“What?” Henry and Jasper wondered.

“Charlotte and the puffy haired kid. They’re hitting it off, right?” He asked. “What if… he asked her out on a date?”

“She’d say no,” Henry said, at the same time Jasper said, “He’d get embarrassed in front of his friends.”

Ray rolled his eyes and said, “You kids no nothing. I’ve gotten rid of a TON of women by just pushing them off on somebody else and I’m sure that I can get Charlotte off of that kid you hate, the same way.”

“Charlotte’s NOTHING like anybody that you’d date,” Henry tried to point out to him.

Meanwhile Jasper said, “You can’t outsmart Charlotte, Dude.”

But Ray was on his way. He flopped down next to the two and made Charlotte mess up her current braid. She scoffed and looked at him. “So… This is cute,” he said and pointed between the two. Angus glanced at him, confused. “You two look… mighty cute together. Anything in common?”

“Max,” Angus said. This was Max’s girlfriend, as far as he could tell.

“Oh, that guy, yeah. I don’t see how either of you are friends with him, if I’m being honest, but you’re JUST friends, right Charlotte?” Ray asked. She laughed nervously while Angus got distracted from the game to look up at her reaction, messing up the same braid again.

“Yeah, yeah, we are,” She said, then told Angus, “Eyes front, Bro. I’m almost done.”Angus returned to the game, but Max had just won the match. He groaned, but this wasn’t Max’s girlfriend? That was… interesting… But, she definitely wouldn’t be interested in him though. She seemed really smart and stuff. He was some artsy dude who embarrassingly had once referred to himself as a living Drake song.

“Well, I think that you would be adorable together,” Ray said.

“You don’t know anything about this guy,” Charlotte told him.

“I know that he’s beautiful. His voice is very soothing. His hair is nice and full. He’s great at video games. He has fashion sense, I think… for your generation, I guess. You like fashion and video games, too.”

“I’m a musician!” Angus said, more to Charlotte than Ray.

“Charlotte LOVES music!” Ray said, giving him a playful punch in the arm. Charlotte squinted her eyes at Ray. What was he up to? “You know, she was in a band once?”

“I was too, with Max,” Angus said. “Now, I have my own. I make tracks, they’re kinda rock, kinda rap, but not like that metal rap stuff from your day. Good, honest rap and good honest rock. It’s a vibe, really.”

“My day?”Ray repeated. “I’m not that old…”

“So, there’s like an age gap between you and your partner?” Angus wondered.

“My partner?”

“He thinks you and Schwoz are together,” Charlotte presumed and clarified.

“WHAT?” Ray said and now, he was done speaking to this guy. He returned to Henry and Jasper and told them, “Not gonna work. Kid’s a complete moron.”

“You sure about that Mr. Schwartz?” Henry asked, laughing. But, they heard Angus ask Charlotte, “So… You’re… really single?”

She laughed and looked at him, “I don’t know how anybody finds the time not to be, to be honest. I’m single by choice. I have no idea why he’s trying to play matchmaker. He’s not good at it. He’s not good at most things…”

Angus got eliminated and sighed. Two losses for him, then. “Well, yeah… I can’t imagine what somebody like you would see in me,” he said.

She furrowed her eyebrows and said, “All done! We oughtta take selfies.”

Max was watching the whole time. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he felt territorial, nonetheless. Technically, he knew that he probably shouldn’t be. Charlotte was very independent and wasn’t officially his, and even if she was, she was the type to value her freedom and love someone who could trust her to be around anybody else. But, not everybody else knew her like he did. He had paid a lot of attention and learned a lot of information. While Angus might be hitting it off with her or was happening right now, he had no idea that their little whatever was happening right now, he had no idea that their little superficial brief connection was cutting into Charlotte’s lunch time.

Soon, her blood sugar would be low, she’d be cranky and ready to snap at people, then be mad that she had to fix something  to eat/that she had let herself get hangry.

Max left them to their laughter and such and went to fix her a sandwich, some fries, put a few cookies on the plate, and make some tea. He set everything down and went outside to grab some flowers, just to accent the tray. Whenever he got back inside, she was getting up from the couch with her grouchy face on…"Char!“ He called.

She looked up, and he could tell that she was about to brush him off because she needed to get something to eat, so he spoke quickly as he handed her the tray, “Made you lunch. I know that you’re approaching hangry hours.” She stared at the tray for a moment as he announced, “Grilled gouda BLT with arugula and spinach and honey mustard, fries, lemon white chocolate cookies and a chai latte… Your… brunch order, right? Whenever you call The Deli Royale? I just… hacked into their system for the recipe so I could make it for you at home for a fraction of the price… free to you!”

She looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that he had won. She stepped closer and smiled, picking up a fry. “Wanna share?” she asked.

“Not really hungry, but might grab a few fries.” They sat at the island and chatted while she ate and touched him casually, numerous times. They were sitting close, knees touching and he leaned in to tell her stuff the entire lunch.

“So… Are you on truce with Henry right now?” She asked. “You two sure seemed out for blood earlier.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “He was out for my blood. I basically was just plucking him in the forehead. You know that if I ever actually wanted to come up against Henry, he’d be destroyed.”

“I appreciate you holding back for him,” she said with a little smile.

“I don’t do it for him.”

“You know, you’ve said that before to me, but you never expound. You do it, why? For the sake of being a hero? Because you’re bigger than that or something?” She wondered as she took a sip of her drink.

“I do it for you,” he said, as plainly as one might say ‘hello.’ She choked on her latte and he winced. She laughed at herself by the time she stopped choking and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said, blushing. “You all set to destroy these guys?” He asked.

“Yep!” She was about to take her dishes away, but he grabbed the tray from her, kissed her on the temple of her head, which she leaned deeper into, and he smiled against her skin and went to put the dishes away. Charlotte slowly slid off of the stool to go back to the others, unable to stop smiling about what had just happened. That was… not platonic, right? That was definitely not her imagination. Max had made her lunch, told her that she mattered and kissed her on the face. Sure, friends did stuff like that, but… This didn’t feel like that.

“Where’d you vanish to?” Oyster wondered when she showed up again.

“I was right there, at the island, having lunch,” she said and pointed to it. Max laughed from the kitchen… which was open to the living room. “Or, are you messing with me, Oyster. Because, I honestly can never tell if you’re actually confused or pulling my chain.”

“I actually have never joked about anything, ever in my life. I’m a very serious person,” he said. Charlotte sat down in between Oyster and Angus as Angus played against Henry. Max came to the couch and Oyster and Charlotte slid over so that he could be in between her and Angus.

.

Whenever Henry and Max played against each other, they were bickering again. Charlotte laughingly watched them, but the more that they played against each other, the uglier it got. “I mean, maybe I won’t beat you in this game, but I definitely think that there’s something that I have to be able to beat you at.”

“Whenever you think you’ve figured out what that is, let me know and I’ll be happy to prove you wrong,” Max retorted and stuck his tongue out.

“Invoking Best Friend Privilege for Charlotte to tell me Max’s weaknesses!” Henry declared, on the verge of losing the match.

Charlotte’s legs were draped across Max’s lap as she listed off on her fingers, “Well, I know for sure that you can’t defeat him in anything academically especially not math or science related, he’s a former tennis champ, master of pranks (Henry scoffed, but he knew that it was probably true. Max was smart. Smart goes a long way with pranks), his Hero Tracks shows that he’s got more hero credentials than you, he’s whupping you in video games…”

“I asked for weaknesses, not to add insult to injury while he decimates me!” Henry fussed at her.

“SORRY! I’m doing the process of elimination out loud!” She fussed right back. “For instance, we know that he can cook AND ALSO bake, he plays guitar, is good with animals and babies… OH! Can you draw?” She wondered. “Henry is pretty artistic. Remember that time you carved that pumpkin to look like Ray?” She asked Henry, excitedly hoping that she was helping, because Max had just beat Henry and Henry had fallen back onto the couch in exhausted defeat.

“I can draw. Remind me to show you some of my gadget designs and portraits,” Max said, coolly, then asked Henry, “Can I get you some ice, Hen?” He smiled as Henry slammed the controller into Schwoz’s hands.

“He’s not good at writing,” Oyster said. “Remember those songs you used to try to write?”

Max narrowed his eyes at him, but just as well, because Charlotte shook her head and said, “Henry sucks at writing. Jasper’s the writer of our group.”

Max’s head turned quickly towards her and he pointed a pinky at Jasper and asked, “That Jasper?”

“He’s the only one I know,” she said, defensively. Jasper lowkey worshiped Max. There was no need for him to start being ugly to him. “He could’ve helped you write a song, Mr. Extra Toe.” Max chuckled and handed off his controller to Wolfgang. Charlotte tilted her head, trying to think. “Oh! He’s good with flowers!” She cheered, excitedly.

“Once brought a plant back from the dead,” Max bragged.

“It became a room sized monster,” Nora reminded him.

“So, I made it EXTRA alive!” Max said. His sister rolled her eyes.

“I need to know that story,” Charlotte said. Max moved his mouth to begin, but she cut him off. “Not now, though. Jasper… I’m invoking Best Friend Privilege for you to remind me of Henry’s strengths as his best friend and soulmate.”

Henry frowned. He couldn’t BELIEVE that it was this hard for Charlotte to tell him something that he could be better than Max at. But, Jasper was READY to be tagged in. He yelled, “Dance Battle!”

Henry’s ears perked up, but when Max smirked, his shoulders sank. “Are you a dance champion too?”

“I mean… not a champion, but if you’ve seen me fight, you should know that I’m very fluid and agile… also I’ve danced for many years.”

“Didn’t you have a dance battle at a school dance one time?” Nora asked.

“Sure did. Dude got served. Then, I swerved on the girl that I battled for.”

Charlotte sat up more erect and asked, “It was for a girl?”

“Mostly for my pride. After she chose me, I realized it was really pitiful that I was willing to put all those moves into getting her to like me.” She nodded, but she looked bothered. “You… okay?” He asked.

“Sure.” She laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, after Jasper yelling out random things, Charlotte finally said, “Brotherhood!” Max furrowed his eyebrows. “No offense, but whenever we met you, you sold your sister out and while that may have changed by now, your siblings are here way less than Piper is and Henry NEVER would have done anything to ever hurt, harm or shame Piper, all the years of her life, so… I’ll say that. And, it’s gonna have to be enough for Hen, because I have racked my brain.”

“Max has DEFINITELY done a lot of crappy things as a brother,” Nora said, nodding her head. She and Billy began to list off some stuff while Henry gave Charlotte a high five.

Max smiled and said, “Well, at least there’s that, Henry Hart.” Then, he began a slow applause that made Henry feel less excited about the small victory.

Charlotte placed a hand on Max’s and stopped him, giving him a look and mouthed the words, “For me?” Her eyes did the questioning. Would he stop bothering Henry right now , for her? He immediately stopped taunting Henry and intertwined his fingers with Charlotte’s.

“Anything,” he whispered.