#I actually think we as fandom consider what the first couple weeks at Scoops were like

[morganbritton132]

I love the trope that Steve is fluent in Italian, but I almost never see it paired with Robin ‘canonically speaks four languages’ Buckley.

Like, when Steve started at Scoops Ahoy, he already knew it was going to suck but then it turns out, his co-worker hates him. She never talks to him unless its to tell him to get something out of the freezer or that she’s going on break. It’s miserable.

The saving grace is that Robin is a talker. Not to him, but in general. She’s always muttering under her breath about something, just not always in English.

Steve took French in high school and was pretty decent at it. He’s been speaking Italian since he was a kid, and there’s enough overlap with Spanish that he can get the gist of what she’s saying. The latin is lost on him but for the most part, there’s never a time that he doesn’t have at least a vague idea of what she’s muttering about.

He doesn’t tell her this because she’s sarcastic, and funny, and a little mean when she thinks no one understands her. He’s afraid that if she knows than she’ll stop talking altogether and if he has to listen to the three minute repeat of nautical sounds they play over the PA, he’ll die.

One time when Steve is striking out with a pretty girl, Robin mutters under her breath in French that the girl was beautiful. Steve’s not at the point where ‘she’s hot’=lesbian so he tries to make her feel better like, “Hey, you know, some guys are into the mean nerdy thing you have going on.”

Robin’s like, “Gross.”

The jig is up when Steve’s Nonna comes in and he takes her order in Italian.

[freaoscanlin]

In the Arms of an Aila

Fandom: High Rollers Aerois Campaign

Notes: Rated PG, 4438 words, trigger warnings for minor blood mentions. This is a Uni AU wherein the Storm Chasers are a group of students sharing a house on Stormchaser Avenue after their dormitory burns down. Shout out to @obishenshenobi for being amazing and co-writing this series with me!

Summary: Four times Aila carries the party, and one time they return the favor.

Read it on AO3

“Hey, Aila?” Nova said.

“What?”

“Just...thanks.”

“Very welcome. Just do your part and hold on. Sentry will get mad if I drop you.”

Nova

The blister set in somewhere between mile two and mile four. Since it was supposed to be a five mile hike, and a torrential downpour hit at the end of mile two, soaking them to the bone within minutes, a blister was the last thing Nova needed.

Of course, who really needed a blister? Rubbing an actual sore onto the skin as the first step on the way to a callus was an absolute stupid function of humanity, and human feet should not be designed this way. In fact, all humans were composed of stupid engineering. Her thighs burned, her lower back ached, she was muddy and cross and cold, and the pain rubbing along the back of her heel made her actually want to cry.

“We’ll get to the end soon.” Sentry kept a cheerful look in place. This whole hike had been her idea in the first place, and she’d led the pack all the way out to the waterfall. Which, admittedly, had been very pretty. On a sunny day it might have even been gorgeous. But Nova could feel her teeth chattering, and she must have looked miserable because Sentry had been making remarks like that for the past twenty minutes. “And then we’ll be in a nice warm car. And we’ll get some hot chocolate.”

“Coffee,” Nova managed to say through her chattering teeth.

“Or coffee. Sure. Coffee’s fine.”

Lucius, following behind Sentry without too much trouble, should have looked bedraggled and miserable. But he’d packed a fancy purple camping jacket for the adventure. Quill, trudging behind him, kept flicking a hand through his sopping hair and sending water droplets everywhere.

Aila, after the first time Nova had landed on her ass, had taken the rear. Every so often, she reached out to grab Nova and keep her from careening off the edge of the path.

“Let’s take a hike,” Nova muttered under her breath as she limped along. “It’s beautiful, Nova. You’ll love it, Nova. Just think of the pretty views, Nova. This is great. Just great.”

She stepped down and hissed in pain as her boot moved against the blister. Instantly, the three people ahead of her turned to look. “Are you okay?” Sentry asked, her brow furrowed.

“Fi—I’m fine. It’s just a blister. I’ll be fine.”

It took a great deal of reassurance that she would be fine in order for the others to believe her. They had less than a mile to go, soon they’d be in the car, she could grit her teeth through it. After a day of holding the group back to her pace—it wasn’t her fault she lived with a bunch of jocks who preferred the gym to the library—the idea of stopping just because her foot hurt made her burn with shame. So she waved away their protests and gamely set off.

For a couple hundred meters, at least. At that point she began to whimper.

Something rustled behind her, followed by a sigh. Aila grabbed her arm to stop her. “What? Was I about to fall?” Nova asked, looking down at the steep incline beside the little trail.

“Hop on.” Aila turned to face away from her, bending her knees just a little.

“What?”

“I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.”

“But it’s so far still.”

“You weigh less than a sack of potatoes. I’ll be fine. Hop on.”

The others, having missed all of this, continued on their way up the path. Nova glanced back toward them, wondering if she should just suck it up and run to catch up. The thought alone made her want to cry.

Red-faced and embarrassed, she climbed onto Aila’s back and wrapped her arms around Aila’s neck. The relief of being off her feet came instantly.

“Comfortable?” Aila asked.

“If I get too heavy—”

Aila snorted at that. “Please. This isn’t even a workout. Hey, Sentry, wait up!”

In no time at all, she caught up to the group, trotting along as though she wasn’t even burdened by Nova’s weight. Nova decided she’d feel embarrassed later, when she wasn’t so wrecked. Aila was big and sturdy and warm, and it was the first reprieve from misery she’d had in over an hour. Quill gave her a small smile of commiseration, letting out a “hey” when she tiredly reached out to muss his hair.

“Hey, Aila?” Nova said.

“What?”

“Just...thanks.”

“Very welcome. Just do your part and hold on. Sentry will get mad if I drop you.”

Nova rested her cheek against the back of Aila’s shoulder, watching the landscape go by around them, and obeyed.

Sentry

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Sentry, about to reach for the pantry door in the darkness, froze. A split-second after Aila’s voice rang out through the kitchen, the lights flooded on. Sentry didn’t need a highly active imagination to fully see the picture it painted: Aila by the switch in an ancient pair of joggers and one of the hundreds of tacky free T-shirts they handed out during orientation week. A massive gulf of space between the pantry and Sentry’s bedroom. And Sentry herself in her Tom Servo sleep tank and shorts, balanced on one foot to stay off of her bad knee, right by the pantry—with her crutches nowhere nearby.

“Ah, um, ah,” Sentry said, looking about for an excuse. Her shoulders sagged. “I just wanted a snack?”

“And you decided, ‘oh, I’ll just hop to it, then, will I?’”

Sentry spread her hands wide, sheepishly. “Yes?”

Aila’s expression could melt steel. “Even though you’ve got a perfectly good pair of crutches by your bed.”

She hated the crutches, yes, but in that moment Sentry decided she hated disappointing Aila more. Still, she pushed her shoulders back. “I’m allowed to put a little weight on it—”

“In two weeks! You’re supposed to stay off it for now, or you’ll make it worse.”

“I’m only getting a snack. That’s not that strenuous.”

“For somebody who mothers the rest of us when we’ve so much as got the sniffles, you’re a bad patient yourself.” Aila strode across the kitchen and before Sentry quite knew what was happening, scooped her up. Just as quickly—though a little more gently—Sentry was deposited into one of the kitchen chairs. “You could have called one of us to get you a snack if you hate the crutches so much.”

“You were all asleep, and you need your rest.”

“We need our Sentry in one piece more than we need rest.”

Aila stomped into the pantry. A bag of crisps sailed through the air, landing in front of Sentry on the table. Grumbling under her breath the whole time, Aila emerged and stormed about the kitchen, collecting a midnight snack for herself. Sentry angled a chair over to prop her recovering leg up, trusting that Aila would work through this head of steam eventually. At long last, Aila sat down across from her with a glass of water for each of them. She dug viciously into a yogurt.

“Feel better now that you’ve bitched me out?” Sentry asked, digging into the chips.

Aila considered. “A little, actually. Now I see why Nova does it all the time.”

Sentry saluted her with a crisp. “Glad to help. Thanks for getting these for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You don’t need to keep me company if all you were coming down for was a glass of water or something, though. I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Sentry,” Aila said in a measured voice. “If I leave you there, you’ll just hop right back to bed. So I’m going to stay here until you’re finished and I’m going to eat my yogurt and then I’ll carry you back to bed, and we’ll not tell the others any of this ever happened because they’ll scold you.”

“That might be the most I’ve ever heard you speak,” Sentry said.

“Yeah, I’m a real chatty Cathy at this hour, apparently.” Aila nudged one of the glasses toward her. “Drink your water. It’s good for recovery.”

“Yes, Mom,” Sentry teased, and Aila rolled her eyes at her.

Lucius

Lucius saw the blood, had a brief eternity to think whoopsy, there I go, and when time returned to its normal course of business, fainted. Well, he went woozy, at any rate. He felt his knees buckle, but from afar like they weren’t his knees anymore, and his vision squeezed into one narrow point of blankness, and he staggered.

He slammed into something very solid, but warm like a person. “Oh, no, you don’t,” said a familiar voice in his ear.

“S-so much blood,” Lucius said, his voice sounding as far away as his knees.

The entire world seemed to tilt and a feeling of warmth suffused him, reminding him of the earliest days with Nanny Nophir. That changed abruptly, though, when he realized that instead of being cradled like a small child, somebody had slung him over a shoulder like a bag of cement. Not just anybody, he realized in a muddled storm of thought. Aila had him over one shoulder, bracing him with an arm behind his knees.

Muzzily, he twisted his head to see Sentry hurrying out of the kitchen and into the shared living room. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“Nova’s got a nosebleed,” Aila said. “His majesty still faints at the sight of blood, apparently.”

“Hey,” Lucius said feebly, as the dig felt a little unfair. He let his body hang limp, too wrung out to really protest beyond that. There had been so much blood...

“I’m so sorry,” Nova said, her voice muffled by either a towel or her hand. “Lucius, I’m so sorry, I forgot you don’t like blood. It’s just so dry—”

“Let’s just get you cleaned up,” Sentry said kindly, resting a hand on Lucius’s back as she passed. “Maybe put him on the couch?”

The last must have been directed at Aila, for she moved over and Lucius found himself being lowered onto the divan. They really should have gotten a proper fainting couch for the living room, even though it clashed with the rest of the furniture he’d hand-selected. Though the ultimate irony remained: if Aila hadn’t caught him, he wouldn’t have made it to said fainting couch anyway.

Lucius, feeling queasy, glanced over. He spotted the bloody towel that Nova had instinctively put over her face to staunch the blood, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Hey—hey!” Something snapped loudly in front of his face and Lucius opened his eyes. Aila snapped her fingers a few more times. “None of that now. Turn that way.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Lucius said, automatically obeying. “Good heavens. I could have cracked my head open on the coffee table if you hadn’t caught me.”

“Doubt it.” Aila snorted. “Hard as your head is, you’d have cracked the coffee table in half.”

“Oh really, do you think?” Lucius couldn’t help but be a little pleased at the thought. Having somebody like Aila think any part of him was tough—she’d certainly made enough jokes about lacrosse in their first days together—was quite exhilarating. He studiously kept his gaze focused on the back of the couch, deliberately not looking as Aila took the bloody towel out of the room and returned with bleach wipes. “Oh, I do hope she didn’t stain the carpet.”

“Eh,” Aila said. “I’ve gotten blood out of worse. Though I’ll let Nova clean up her textbook on her own. I’m nice but not that nice. It should be safe for you to look now.”

Lucius swallowed hard and sat up, rubbing his head. He’d come in to inquire of Nova, seated at the coffee table with a textbook and a soap opera on in the background for noise, if she wanted to perhaps grab a quick dinner with him before their evening class. And she’d turned to him in horror, blood leaking and...

Well, he’d prefer not to remember beyond that point. Instead, he resolutely turned his thoughts to more pressing matters (after all, Sentry was taking care of Nova, which meant she would be just fine). He cleared his throat. “Aila, I do have a question for you.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you think we should get a fainting couch in here? For the aesthetic?”

Aila stared at him for a long time, then turned on a heel and left without saying a word or even making a face at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucius said, and began to set his mussed clothing to rights.

Quill

No matter how they jeered and teased, there was no getting Sentry into the water. Even the triple dog dare, which would have worked on Quill without fail, held no effect. She merely gazed at them serenely from her lakeside lounger, told them they were all very clever, and closed her eyes once more, returning to sunbathing.

“Boo,” Quill called, cupping his hand around his mouth. He tried to splash water in her direction, but Sentry had wisely set her chair out of range.

“Oh, quit bugging her,” Nova said from deeper in the lake where she was treading water in her cute old-fashioned swim suit. Even in the water, she hadn’t taken off the elbow-length glove she wore to cover the scars from her lab accident. “Let the woman get some sun away from our shenanigans.”

“I refuse to let my best friend be too much of a coward,” and Quill raised his voice over his shoulder as he swam toward Nova, “to swim in the lake!”

“Love you too, Quill,” Sentry called back without opening her eyes.

The sun did feel nice, admittedly. Their first day at the cabin—one of Lucius’s family’s many, many vacation properties—had been gray and cold and unpromising, but today the skies were clear and the air was warm. Donning a pair of swim trunks and cannon-balling off of the private dock was the only logical choice to be made, in Quill’s opinion. And the others had followed not far behind: Nova in her one-piece, Lucius in speedos that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Aila in what Quill suspected just to be her underwear, as she hadn’t gone shopping for their vacation, even at Sentry and Nova’s urging. Sentry herself had donned a tankini but was staying far, far away from the water, having made it clear just how much she found the thought of parasites and other lakely dangers distressing.

Swimming wasn’t as easy as it had been before his accident, but Quill made it out to Nova and began to tread water beside her. She closed her eyes and tipped her face to the sun. “This feels so nice. I didn’t realize how much I needed a break. I had more than four hours of sleep last night, Quill. It felt like a miracle.”

“I may never go back,” Quill agreed. “Do you think Lucius would mind if we, like, just moved in permanently? There’s a bidet. Have you ever stayed in a place that had a bidet?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Nova turned. “Aila! Have you ever stayed in a place with a bidet?”

“When would I have done that?” came the reply. Aila didn’t even lift her head up from where she was floating on her back, eyes closed.

Lucius swam up, popped underwater, and emerged so that his hair flowed back in perfect waves. The sunlight caught very faint freckles on his shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. It’s rather a travesty that we don’t have one at home. We could have one installed quite easily.”

“Eh,” Aila said, eyes still closed. “Feels bougie.”

“How dare you,” Lucius said.

Aila merely opened one eye a slit and smirked at him. Lucius, after a moment of grumpiness, smiled back.

“Did we bring a football or anything?” Nova twirled herself around in the water like a spinning top. “Or some kind of water game we could play? Not that I don’t love swimming.”

“We could play Chicken,” Quill said. When the other three merely gave him varying glances of confusion or interest (or disinterest on Aila’s part), he tilted his head. “Did none of you ever play Chicken as kids?”

“The thing where you dart out in front of cars and stay there until they almost hit you?” Nova asked.

“No, the bit where one person gets up on somebody’s shoulders and tries to knock another person—on somebody else’s shoulders—over into the water. Here, here, I’ll show you. It’s fun.” Quill glanced between the three of them and did some quick calculus that he would never, ever tell anybody else about. “Here, Aila, let me up on your shoulders.”

Aila kept floating for a few seconds more before she seemed to shrug to herself. “Eh. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Left to his own devices, Quill was positive that he would have made it awkward to clamber up on Aila’s shoulders. But he’d forgotten just how strong rugby made Aila, and how often she went swimming. As they approached the shallower depths, she disappeared under the water. Quill felt something almost hit him from behind, and then he was launched toward the sky. He yelped and clung on for dear life as Aila straightened to her full height, the water coming up to her shoulders.

“Ooh! Ooh! I want to try. Lucius, let me up.” Nova scrambled over to Lucius and climbed up on his shoulders, kicking her feet excitedly (Lucius winced a little). She held her arms up like an old timey boxer. “You’re going into the water, bird-boy.”

“Hey, now,” Aila said. “Let’s make this fair. One hand behind your back.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Quill.”

“I don’t need two hands to beat you,” Quill said, though he nearly disproved his entire point by overbalancing and almost falling off of Aila’s shoulders.

She merely locked her hands around his knees. Nova put her scarred hand behind her and waggled the fingers of her remaining hand at Quill.

“Oi!” A voice from the shore made all of them turn to look at Sentry, who’d sat up and set her book aside. “What are you doing? That looks dangerous!”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lucius called back. “Aila and I have it all in hand.”

Sentry hovered on the edge of the lounger like she wasn’t entirely sure she believed that. “Well, just—just be careful.”

Quill used the distraction to lean over, scoop up a handful of water, and fling it in Nova’s direction.

“Hey!”

And just like that, the battle commenced. Aila charged forward with Quill holding on, Lucius did the same with Nova, and a wrestling match for the ages followed. Nobody would ever come up with a consensus on who actually hit the water first, though. Lucius swore it was Quill, Nova agreed, Quill argued vehemently that it was of course Nova, and Aila remained the neutral party, content to be the base for many, many games of Chicken afterward.

And Sentry remained on the shore, pretending she wasn’t keeping a close eye on them for injury and doing a horrible job at hiding it.

All in all, a pretty perfect summer morning, if you asked Quill.

+ 1 Time They Carried Her

“Sign up for survivalist camp, she says. It’ll be fun, she says. We’ll learn cool new techniques to surviving in the wild. Great bonding time!”

“To be fair,” Nova said from behind Aila’s head, where Aila couldn’t really see her without craning her neck, “we were having a great time bonding until, you know, all of this.”

Because Aila couldn’t see her, and moving to do so would only get her scolded, she had to imagine Nova waving her free hand in aggravation.

“I for one am having a perfectly lovely time,” Lucius said.

Aila could never tell when he was being sarcastic, and she didn’t see that changing any time soon. She suspected in this case he might be genuine, though. The course instructor had complimented him on his very fancy camping vest (“It has so many pockets,” Lucius had said) and nobody had yet found the heart to tell Lucius that had been sarcasm. So all through this hike he’d been in a particularly good mood. That made him the only one, probably.

Things had been going rather well during the whole course, up until this morning: the morning of their final day in the course, when they would be tested “randomly” and, using little but their wits, a compass, and a map, navigate themselves back to the parking lot. Camping with her friends had been fun, even if it meant being squished into a two-person tent with Sentry and Nova (the latter of whom had very bony elbows) at night. Aila liked the outdoors. She liked the feeling of self-sufficiency that this course had brought with it. She imagined herself as something of a pioneer. In the olden times, she would’ve kicked ass at all of this.

Unfortunately, it was nigh on impossible to kick ass with a “broken leg.”

And she wasn’t hiking out of the woods. She was being carried. On a stretcher. This sucked. The instructor had folded his arms over his chest in a rather smug fashion as he gave them their final assignment. His eyes had lingered between Sentry and Aila, easily the tallest members of the group. And he’d narrowed in on her, which was why she was being lifted by her friends on a tarp stretcher that they’d improvised.

“This sucks.”

“Yes,” Quill said, grimacing. “So you’ve said multiple times. We’re not having the best go of it either right now.”

Aila closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She’d already had to fold her arms close into her chest like a sleeping vampire to avoid being bumped and jostled about. The tarp they’d fashioned into a stretcher smelled bad. She felt like she’d been stuffed into a tiny little space, not great when she suspected she was a little claustrophobic anyway. “I’m bored.”

“I’ve got several books you could read,” Nova said, completely earnest.

That would only make this day worse, having to read. Fortunately Sentry, who was planted on the right side above Aila’s head and therefore easy to see, laughed. “I don’t think a book will help.”

“I was up late reading all about the local fauna in case there was a pop quiz,” Nova said. “I could tell you about some of them?”

“I’d rather read the book,” Aila said.

Nova tilted her head, considering. “You know what? Fair.”

“It’s not long to the parking lot,” Lucius said in a cheerful voice, though he was a bit out of breath.

“Feels like miles,” Quill grumbled.

“That’s probably because it is. I was lying,” Lucius said, tittering nervously.

Aila had pointed out that the course instructors couldn’t see them, so she could just get up and walk for a bit until they were nearing the end and all of her friends could be spared, but Nova had looked so abjectly horrified at the thought of cheating on a test that Aila had backpedaled and felt a little actual shame. Just a tiny bit, though. Not enough to fully penetrate the thick barrier of indifference she liked to carry about.

“Fine,” she said now, with a sigh. “Tell me all about these fascinating plants of yours, Nova. Not like I can do much else right now.”

Nova squeaked in excitement, reaching down to grab Aila’s leg.

“Ow,” Aila deadpanned. “That one’s broken.”

“I thought it was the other one?”

“It’s not real,” Quill said. “She’s messing with you.”

“Right. Right! Okay, so to start with, these are deciduous trees—”

Aila tuned her out in record time. Since there wasn’t anything to do but lay stiffly with her arms in a stupid position and the stretcher swaying nauseatingly below her, Aila let the patter of Nova’s excited overexplaining wash over her. She closed her eyes to stave off the nausea of watching the canopy overhead.

Sleep didn’t come right away, though it drifted near enough that she dozed a few times. Finally, she heard Nova whisper, “Did I do it? Is she out?”

“Think so, yeah,” Sentry replied.

“Oh, thank H’esper.”

“Quill!”

“We’re the ones marching miles carrying her and she’s whining?” Quill whispered back. “Have a care for my legs. I can’t feel them anymore.”

“Me either,” Lucius said.

“Meanwhile, all she has to do is lay there and be carried!”

“Which for Aila is torture and you know it,” Nova hissed.

“I do suppose she’d whine less with an actual broken leg,” Lucius said, thoughtfully, and Aila nearly gave up the game by grinning. “She does have that stoicism thing going for her. I rather admire it at times. Daddy always said that I should be stron—ow, splinter!”

“You okay? We can take a break if need be,” Sentry said.

“I’ll endeavor to carry on,” Lucius said, but he sounded tearful.

Aila almost opened her eyes again, but joining this conversation would require more mental energy than she was willing to expend. Maybe if she did actually fall asleep, this nightmare of a hike would be over sooner.

“She does look kind of peaceful,” Nova said. “In a very Angry Aila way. Nobody tell her I said that. Either of those things.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Sentry promised.

There was a long silence. The stretcher continued to sway, though not in a soothing or repeatable pattern that promoted sleep, and her friends were quiet apart from the sound of heavy breathing as they tromped through the woods. Not a bad day for a hike, overall. She really wished she could just get up and walk alongside them, but if she had to be carried, so be it. At least she had them around her.

Aila nearly opened her mouth to tell them so (and ruin the illusion that she’d been napping this entire time) when Quill cleared his throat. “We are agreed, yes, that she’ll be driving the whole way home since she’s been napping this entire time anyway?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Duh.”

“Why, obviously. I’ll be completely knackered by that point.”

Aila’s smile probably betrayed her, but she elected not to care about that. She merely let the group travel on, carrying her to their final destination in their survival course. There were worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon, even if it meant being the one to drive them home afterward.

[gleekto]

Full Fic: Even Better Than the Real Thing

Words: 18,295 (how did that happen?)

Full fic now on AO3

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA,  and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Even Better than the Real Thing (13/13)

They decide to tell Rachel first. Aside from being the obvious choice, she would be a nightmare if she ever found out she was second shrift to anyone in Kurt’s life. He would definitely not be able to handle her moping around the apartment wondering if he even really considered her a friend in the first place - last week he finishes her oat milk, this week, he’s dating her co-star and she’s the last to know. Of course, in this scenario he never had any of her oat milk, and she wouldn’t be the last to know, but regardless, not telling her first certainly wouldn’t be worth the headache.

“So you think we should just let her walk in on us?” They’re still lying half naked in Kurt’s bed hours after their “reunion”, Blaine lying on his front, Kurt on his back, with Blaine’s butt as his pillow. “I mean she should be home in what - 20 minutes?”

“Oh shit,” Kurt looks at his watch. “More like 10. And I think my breakfast dishes are still sitting on the table.”

They scramble to put on clothes, quickly make Kurt’s bed, and Kurt amusedly watches Blaine try to figure out how to arrange his throw pillows, while he finishes cleaning up his dishes. By the time Rachel waltzes in the front door, they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen island, each with a cup of hot lemon tea, and trying to look casual.

“Hi Kurt. I have had the busiest day. Let me tell you I’m completely exhausted-” Rachel finally looks up and sees them. “Blaine?” Kurt can feel Rachel trying to come up with a way to phrase her obvious question.

“Hey Rachel,” Blaine smirks, amused, but doesn’t offer any explanation. Kurt kicks him under the table. “Ow.”

“So you’re um-” Rachel purses her lips. “Both feeling better now, I take it?”

“Much better,” Blaine smirks again. 

“Okay yes,” Kurt huffs. “We are feeling better and we are,” Kurt motions between Blaine and himself. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Rachel claps her hands excitedly. “This is so great - can you imagine the PR headlines for the show?” Kurt glares at her and she stops. At least for the moment. “I mean, I’m very happy for you. So anyways. You have my blessing.” Kurt laughs out loud.

“Thank you?” Blaine looks at her suspiciously.

“Well, Kurt is my best friend and I do have inside knowledge that you are a good kisser.” Now Blaine laughs out loud. “So may you be blessed with all that goodness.”

“Oh I will be,” Kurt says and Rachel at least looks slightly embarrassed. So he’ll take it as a win.

...

The fun part is telling Mercedes - it’s always so satisfying to have her approval. They FaceTime her.

“You look better,” She notices right away.

“I am,” Kurt beams, Blaine standing behind the computer out of her view. “We talked and-”

“And?” Her eyes go wide.

“And, yeah,” Kurt shakes his head still in a bit of disbelief. We’re seeing what happens.” She squeals in the best way. “And actually,” Kurt smiles even wider, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.” Kurt’s favourite part is watching Mercedes’ jaw drop as Blaine saunters into the frame.

“Hey Mercedes,” He smiles his warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you, Mr. Blaine Anderson.” Mercedes smiles reflexively shaking her head back and forth. “I am just - wow. Hello.” Kurt remembers being starstruck. It feels like a long time ago.

“No need to be so formal,” Blaine dismisses. “Kurt just calls me Mr. Anderson.”

“You wish,” Kurt elbows him in the side.

“And he even has a sense of humour,” Mercedes is still smiling dumbly.

“Well, maybe next time we’re alone,” Blaine whispers so only Kurt can hear and he gets elbowed even harder, Kurt trying to remain casual.

“So we do need to ask you not to mention this - or any of our future hang outs - on your blog,” Kurt adds, half in jest all in earnest. 

Mercedes nods but Blaine chimes in, “Though if you did say that you had a friend who met me, and that I do have a much better sense of style than Colin Red, I would appreciate it.”

“You did get yourself a comedian, Kurt.”

“My style is better,” Blaine huffs.

“And you can mention that ‘your friend’ said the guy Blaine was with was at least a 9/10,” Kurt says.

“You mean a 10?”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Mercedes nods at Kurt, impressed.

“You think I would date a 9? Please. It will all be confirmed when I talk to my publicist, anyways,” Blaine says nonchalantly.

“Your publicist?” Mercedes and Kurt repeat at the same time. Mercedes in shock, Kurt curious.

“Just give me five minutes.”

...

Who is the pretty face having coffee with Sing!’s favorite heartthrob? You asked  and JustJay has the answers. His name is Kurt Hummel and we have got the SCOOP! 

Kurt laughs as he clicks on the link the next morning. Blaine had spoken to his publicist for a total of five minutes and said a sum total of seven words. Kurt Hummel...Dating...19...LAADA...Rachel’s roommate.

Sorry to any of the hopeful fans out there. Blaine Anderson of Sing! and That’s So Rachel fame, officially confirmed that he is off the market. At least for now. He is dating Kurt Hummel - and he’s his co-star’s roommate. Awkward!

But good luck to the happy new couple!

And that’s it. Kurt Hummel is dating Blaine Anderson. And some of the more ‘high end’ entertainment bloggers note that Blaine requests privacy about his personal life at this time. At least that way they can decline couple selfies when a fan sees them out to eat.

...

Kurt isn’t able to see Blaine again until the weekend, thanks to a lengthy  location shoot. He has the week to catch up on his school work, only being mildly distracted by Blaine’s flirty texts - He laughs out loud to his empty apartment when a pic of Blaine shirtless in his trailer, with the top of his boxers showing above his jeans, pops up. 

Blaine: Finally gets to see me shirtless whenever he wants.

What an ego. 

Kurt: Definitely not as often as I want.

Kurt is pretty sure that’s what makes Blaine come right back to Kurt’s apartment with Rachel that Friday, rather than at least dropping his bag off at home first. “First weeks of dating are always the hardest,” Blaine says as he shuts Kurt’s bedroom door and pulls Kurt on top of him and kisses him long and slow. 

Kurt pulls back. “The hardest?”

“Mmmm,” Blaine mouths along his neck. “Very hard not to want to be naked all the time.” Kurt can’t really argue with that. Despite his sense of romance, he definitely does not want to go out right now.  

It doesn’t take them very long to shed their clothes and crawl into Kurt’s bed to wrap around each other. Then it slows down as if in slow motion. The last time they were together was desperate - Kurt was surprised and nervous and unsure of what was happening. Now he’s calm (in a horny sort of way) and he lets Blaine wrap around him as Blaine explores his body - the sensitive spot two inches under his armpit, the strip below his belly, even his balls which Blaine cups in his hands. He moans in appreciation and Blaine likes it. He likes it too.

He lets Blaine finger him open that night while Blaine gives him a blowjob and it doesn’t even feel like a thing. Kurt is on his back and Blaine is sinking up and down on him, wet and slow, slurping in a sort of grotesque satisfaction. Kurt lifts his knees up to see what might happen andBlaine pops off momentarily and stares at Kurt’s open legs, then stares at his eyes as he grabs the lube. When Kurt nods, Blaine sinks back down and touches him so effortlessly that Kurt forgets to be nervous. Light presses turn to one finger, then two. In and out.  So many sensations and then he’s coming in Blaine’s mouth.

There is just something very easy about being with Blaine Anderson.

...

Rachel is the one who convinces them to do the interview. 

They’ve been dating uneventfully for half a year when That’s So Rachel gets renewed for a second season. Other than the occasional photo request or silly headline - Blaine Anderson buys some strawberries while out for a walk with his beau - Kurt feels like he’s having a pretty regular first relationship. They spend several nights a week together, but not every night, they see plays, bake cookies, hang out, have spectacular sex thanks to Blaine’s well honed skills (It’s not my skills, it’s you, Blaine says over and over but Kurt still thinks he’s indulging him). Tumblr seems like a distant memory though Mercedes tells him there is an active RPF fandom writing fics about them  - Klaine, she says. What on earth is a klaine? And he’s still acing all his classes.

Then one day the request comes from good old JustJay, and Rachel is all in.

“It will be such great publicity for our new season,” Rachel insists. “The true love behind the show. Come on, you know it will be fun.”

Kurt definitely does not know that. Neither does Blaine. But they give in mostly because Rachel is pure enthusiasm and what really is the harm? So they find themselves sitting on a little couch in JustJay’s small rented studio, arms crossed on their laps like the little old couples in When Harry Met Sally.

“It’s true. He was a fan,” Blaine confirms. “Of my first TV show, Sing!”

“That’s his false modesty talking. I was a fan of Sing! But mostly, I was a fan of Blaine Anderson - young, out, gay. Not bad looking,” Kurt teases. “But I was Rachel’s friend and roommate long before I knew anything about them working together.”

“It was serendipity,” Blaine squeezes his hand and the camera pans in. Kurt can just imagine the fics that will come out of this.

“It was random luck.”

Blaine continues, “We have a lot in common - growing up gay in Ohio, love of musical theatre. We even both sang in show choirs. I’d never date a fan, though.”

“But,” Kurt continues his sentence. “When we met through Rachel, I was too embarrassed to admit I knew who he was. I was just trying to get through a five minute awkward conversation with my celebrity crush without making  a fool of myself.”

“But I wouldn’t let him go.”

“He wouldn’t let me go.”

And the rest is history.

[cadence-talle]

Teach The Torches To Burn Bright

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee

Wordcount: 2,212

Summary: “You’re a coward.”

“Correct,” Fitz responded. His sister fixed him with a determined look.

“You’re a coward, but you’re also my brother and I want you to be happy.” She leaned forward, sucking the dregs of her milkshake with a loud slurp. “So we’re gonna get you a date with that boy. Come hell or high water.”

(Or, a theater AU, feat fake understudies, many milkshakes, and fundamentally misunderstanding Romeo & Juliet.) 

Other notes: for @molly-sencen! I’m sorry this took so long and I love you so much, Molly. 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today

“Look, I’m just saying, Romeo and Juliet is overrated.”

“Romeo and Juliet is one of the greatest plays of all time. Just because you hated your eighth-grade English teacher doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“They’re absolute idiots. Who falls in love in a single night? How do you do that? Who pretends they’re dead without making sure the other person knows it’s all fake? Death is a stupid solution.”

“Okay, I don’t understand them either, but-”

“Not to mention it’s literally a love story between a fourteen-year-old and a sixteen-year-old in which they meet, fall in ‘love’, and then get married in the span of three days. Tell me that sounds like a healthy relationship.”

Fitz sighs, pushing open the auditorium doors as he glares at his sister. “It’s not supposed to be a healthy relationship. It’s supposed to show the folly of falling in love too fast and how there needs to be a delicate balance between love and hate.”

Biana arches an eyebrow at him. “Did you really just use the word folly unironically? In the twenty-first century?”

Fitz picks up his pace, walking faster down towards the stage. “Shut up.”

“No, no! Tell me more about the follies in Shakespeare’s writings!” Biana calls behind him, smirk evident in her voice. Giving a small groan- she’s never letting him live this one down- Fitz turns to move up the stairs on either side of the stage and runs straight into someone. 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, stumbling back. “I didn’t see you-”

It’s Dex Dizznee. Of course it’s Dex Dizznee. Fitz should have known he’d be in the theater today; he’s been halfway stalking the guy for a month. 

(“Just ask him out already,” Biana had said, chewing on her milkshake straw. “You’re, like, the most popular person in school.”

“I can’t do that!” Fitz protested. Biana frowned. 

“What’s stopping you?”

Fitz laid his head on the cold metal of the ice cream shop table. “He’s too pretty,” he said mournfully. Biana rolled her eyes and kicked him. 

“You’re a coward.”

“Correct,” Fitz responded. His sister fixed him with a determined look. 

“You’re a coward, but you’re also my brother and I want you to be happy.” She leaned forward, sucking the dregs of her milkshake with a loud slurp. “So we’re gonna get you a date with that boy. Come hell or high water.”) 

Now that he thinks about it, Biana probably orchestrated this. He wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Sorry,” Fitz says again. Dex grins, waving a hand in the air. 

“Not a problem,” he responds. “I was probably in the way, actually. We’re trying to get these new speakers set up,” he gestures to the huge speaker at his feet, tangled in a pile of electrical wires, “and it’s… harder than it looks.”

“I’ll bet.” Fitz nods, pretending he knows anything about technology or what it takes to install a speaker. “Well, we’ll get out of your way. I’m just here to grab an extra script-”

“Actually,” Biana says, appearing next to him. “I think now would be a great time for you to try on that tunic I restitched last week. We need to make sure it fits.” She smiles at him. Fitz glares back. 

“Sure,” he says through gritted teeth, moving up the stage stairs. Dex smiles, touching Fitz’s shoulder lightly as he passes. 

“See you later.”

“Uh.” Fitz says. “Yeah, you too, Deck.”

He staggers backstage and falls face-first onto a prop couch. Biana makes a noise of agreement. 

“Deck?” Fitz says, his voice muffled by the couch cushions. “Deck?”

“I’m sure he didn’t notice,” Biana pats his head. “You do need to try on the tunic, though. We have like ten more costumes to get through and the show’s in a week and a half.”

“That sounds like bad planning on your part,” Fitz observes, taking the offered shirt and pulling it on. “How does it look?”

Biana considers him, head tilted to one side. She smiles. “You’re going to be the best-dressed Romeo on this side of Eternalia. Sophie’ll love it.”

“Sophie is gay,” Fitz points out, “and has a girlfriend. You should know that- you got them together in the first place.”

“Mmm,” Biana agrees, “The great Sopherella Caper. Those were the days.”

“’Those days’ were last month.”

Biana waves a hand in the air. “Irrelevant. Okay, take the tunic off and I’ll make the final adjustments.”

“Great. See you at home?” Fitz scoops his bag up off of the floor as Biana nods, heading out towards the theater doors again. Dex holds up a hand in a little half-wave. 

“Have a good day, Ditz.” he calls. 

Suddenly, Fitz thinks he understands Romeo and Juliet’s ‘poison’ idea a little bit better. 

-/-

“You know, I think this is good, actually.” Biana says the next day. The five of them- Fitz, Biana, Linh, Tam and Keefe- are crammed into a booth at the ice cream shop, sipping milkshakes. (It’s far too early in the day for ice cream, but Fitz isn’t going to argue. The mint chocolate chip ones here are to die for.) 

“Explain,” Fitz responds. He doesn’t see how any of this- the fiasco with Dex, being brought to the ice cream shop in what he’s pretty sure is some sort of intervention, the fact that his milkshake has notably less mint in it than usual- is good. Biana shrugs. 

“Well, from what you said, it sounds more like he was teasing you than actually being mean. And teasing is good. It’s very close to flirting.”

“And if he was flirting with you,” Linh adds, “then that’s great!”

“And if he wasn’t?” Fitz asks, because he’s pessimistic like that. Tam raises an eyebrow, setting his milkshake on the table with a thunk. 

“Then you’ve completely embarrassed yourself and you can never talk to him again,” he deadpans. Fitz nods slowly. 

“I’m sure that won’t happen, though,” Linh says hurriedly, shooting her twin an annoyed look. Tam gives her an angelic smile. 

“Seriously, dude,” Keefe says, turning to Fitz. “You’re the only one here who’s still single. I wanna go couple’s bowling!”

Fitz holds up two fingers, ticking them off as he speaks. “One, ‘couple’s bowling’? Not a thing. Two, aren’t you single?”

Keefe stares at him. “What?”

“You do realize we’ve been dating for four months now,” Tam says. Fitz blinks. 

“I… did not realize that, no.”

“Wait, really?” Biana interjects, giving Fitz a puzzled look. “You were there when Keefe did his promposal.” 

“I thought it was a joke! Who orders goats for an actual promposal?”

Keefe frowns, looking vaguely insulted. “I do. Anyone who wants to do a promposal right orders goats.”

“Forget about the goats,” Linh interrupts, “forget about Keefe and Tam. We’re here to help you.”

All four heads turn towards him in eerie unison. Fitz swallows and Biana smiles sharply, pulling out her planner and flipping to May 13th. 

“Okay. We don’t know when Dex will be in the theater- he keeps really weird hours. What we do know, though, is that he’ll be here next Friday. Opening night.”

“So after the show, we shove Fitz in the soundbooth until he asks Dex out,” Keefe says, nodding. Linh shakes her head. 

“Let’s call that a Plan B. Fitz would actually murder us.”

“True.”

“You guys do realize I’m sitting here, right?” Fitz asks. They ignore him, instead gathering around Biana and her schedule. Silently, Fitz slips from the booth and moves towards the shop door.

This show is going to be a disaster. 

-/-

The theater is packed, people whispering and chatting in the dim light. Fitz should be backstage, getting the last parts of his costume on, but instead he’s in the near-empty hall alongside the auditorium. 

He always does this before a show- takes a moment to catch his breath, lean against the cold blue tile of the wall. A moment of peace before the craziness that is a Foxfire High theater production. 

Or, relative peace. There’s a banging coming from somewhere behind him- one of the doors that line the hallway. Fitz is pretty sure the one the noise is emitting from is a janitor’s closet.

He approaches the door, wary of whatever’s inside. Once, a junior found a raccoon in her locker. Fitz really doesn’t want a repeat of that. 

Instead of a raccoon, though, Sophie falls out when he opens the door. Fitz stares as she stumbles, almost falling, before getting her balance. 

“Why were you locked in the janitor’s closet?” Fitz asks. Sophie rolls her eyes as they head towards the backstage entrance. She’s in costume already, thank goodness. 

“Ask Keefe and Linh,” she grunts. “They’re the ones who stuck me in there.”

Fitz steps through the door, almost running into Dex for the second time in as many weeks. The taller boy has a confused expression on his face.

“Do you know why Biana was just trying to convince me I was the Juliet understudy?” He inquires. “I told her I can’t act, but she didn’t appear to want to listen.” 

Fitz sighs, aware of the flush creeping up his cheeks. “I might have some idea,” he admits. “I’ll talk to you after the show?”

“Sure. I need to get to the sound booth anyway.” Dex gives him a thumbs up and moves away. “See you, Fitz.”

He knows my name. 

Sophie has a dangerous smirk on her face when Fitz turns back in her direction, and he immediately glares at her. 

“Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything,” She hums. “Just… I’m glad you’re happy, ‘kay?”

Fitz smiles at her. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Sophie punches his arm lightly. “Now come on, Romeo. We’ve got a show to steal.” 

-/-

The curtain has just closed, and everyone is screaming. 

To be fair, the show did go well- no one messed up their lines, and the kiss scene (which was, in rehearsal, simply nicknamed Awkward™) actually didn’t crash and burn. 

So Fitz supposes he can’t blame them for screaming, despite the damage it’s doing to his eardrums. (Someone is also playing Let It Go at an obscene volume. Fitz will never understand the theater kid obsession with Let It Go.) 

Biana and Linh come up behind him, hugging him from both sides as they shout. Fitz can’t quite hear them, but he hugs back. 

“I’m going to go talk to Dex,” he shouts, pointing towards the soundbooth. Biana and Linh give him matching grins and Linh yells something that might be go get it! and might be turn away and slam the door. Fitz can’t tell. 

He makes his way through the crowds and up the steps to the back of the theater, keeping his head down so no one will recognize him. The attention can be nice, but he doesn’t exactly fancy getting stuck signing autographs right now.

“Hey!” Dex says as Fitz moves into the sound booth, leaning against the door. They’re the only two still here; whoever was operating the lighting board must have gone home. Now is probably the perfect time to talk to him.

Fitz opens his mouth to say something- even he’s not sure what- when he hears an ominous clicking noise in the door behind him. He spins, trying the handle. Locked.

Sophie’s words echo in his head. Ask Keefe and Linh. They’re the ones who stuck me in there.

“Did someone… lock the door from the outside?” Dex asks, coming over and crouching down next to the lock. “That’s weird.”

Fitz sighs, shaking his head. “Not for my friends.”

“Your friends did this? Why?”

Studiously, Fitz stares at the floor. Then the ceiling. Then the soundboard. Anything but Dex, really.

“Do you remember,” he says slowly, “when I called you Deck?”

Dex raises an eyebrow. “Yep,” he answers, popping the ‘p’. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called, honestly.”

“I- I wasn’t trying to insult you,” Fitz manages. “I just- well. I got nervous.”

Dex wrinkles his nose. It’s kind of adorable. “Nervous? Why?”

Fitz shrugs one shoulder.

“I don’t know. You’re just… you’re pretty.”

“Pretty,” Dex echoes. Fitz nods, taking a deep breath. He’s in too deep to back out now.

“Yeah. And smart, and cool, and…” he trails off. “You’re amazing. And I was- I am- kind of in awe of you.”

“Oh.” Dex steps forward, reaching out. Blinking, Fitz takes his hand. “Well, what if I told you that the first time I saw you on stage, I almost fainted?”

Fitz’s throat goes dry. “You did?”

“Uh-huh. And whenever you were rehearsing and I was doing lighting, I couldn’t stop looking at you.” Dex smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Because you were awesome, and beautiful, and I really, really liked you.”

“I- I like you too,” Fitz squeaks out. Dex grins, stepping a tiny bit closer. 

“Can I…”

“Yes.”

They stay there for a while, trading kisses back and forth, and something Biana had said a few weeks before floats into Fitz’s head. 

“Who falls in love in a single night? How do you do that?”

Like this, Fitz thinks. Like this.

He’s not in love, not yet, but Fitz still feels closer to Romeo and Juliet than he ever has before. 

(Hopefully without the death part, though. In that case, they really are idiots.)

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🐟Wed 4 Dec⛅️

Coming Friday: a whole ass debut album from Liam, singles and videos from Harry and Liam (Adore You and Live Forever), a single from Niall (Put A Little Love On Me), Louis plays a show (Jingle Ball Village in LA), Liam is doing in-store appearances, and Harry will be on Graham Norton. So yeah not much happening or anything no problem, anyone wanna release a perfume real quick? (Note: Liam is apparently releasing a perfume this could legitimately happen, could you people fucking calm down??)

Today we got an Adore You video/music snippet, we see happy hiking Harry carrying his Golden fish friend in a clear plastic backpack (take note of the fashion archive listing for that many of us will need clear bags for all these upcoming concerts) as the sun begins to peek out from the cloud cover (as it has in today's Eroda posts). Fine Line art leaked! Two more fisheye portraits, new color schemes, it looks like they're the inside album art and gonna be badges for merch, you can win Fine Line Live tickets by pre saving, and the L’Officiel Hommes interview is out in better translated English. We saw a teaser of an Olivia Jones/Harry interview (coming next week) in which he's phoning it in again in his big purple robe (and a pink Kacey Musgraves shirt) and in more perfume news, there's a new gucci memoire pic. Eroda brochures continue to pop up in unexpected places, as are Eroda shirts: they've showed up in the mail for a few journalists.

Niall did another full day of interviews and gave us a barrage of single release news. We got PALLOM music snippet and lyrics (in keeping with NH tradition they didn't really examine their font choices when they... probably should have. But 'fucker' was funny and so is 'puta' so carry on lad...) Niall posted an LA phone number you can call to hear him playing some kind of rough version of PALLOM and doled out lyric snips via an Instagram GC. He said the Grammys and SNL were the biggest most exciting shows you could hope for as an artist and that he's so excited about his SNL show.

Liam did a Hugo event in London and posted more song snippets. He says the most personal song for him on LP1 is Weekend, that it "outlines [his] struggle with mental health," scoops an interviewer by making a 'going in a new direction' pun himself and says he thinks one reason things are easier for them now is the fans have grown older and don't have as much time to hang around outside their hotels and such.

Louis delivered toys for needy children and kicked a ball around with a kid, did interviews, posted another segment of the Breaking Down The Walls interview/doc thing, he made a point of saying how great the Nashville show was and how much he enjoyed that crowd, and we got the first of the listening party lyric leaks. He genuinely seems to be having the greatest time traveling around in a tour bus and meeting fans in relaxed settings the last few days and getting to play the songs for people! I love seeing him so happy seeming! I assume he'll be hopping on a plane soon rather than bringing the bus for his California shows tomorrow and Fri though.

Meanwhile, Latin American fans are being told to calm down by people who need to check their fucking privilege: please consider listening to what the people who actually live there have to say. South America has always been a ridiculously huge part of this fandom and loyal fans complaining about getting one show in an area the size of Europe (if they're lucky) priced at what comes out to be like $1-2000 a seat isn't just whining. When you spend a couple months rent on a ticket, travel across a country, or camp for a month ahead of time to get in to a concert maybe you get to have a say, the Brazilian youth didn't struggle for us all so they could be disrespected like this. Support OUR troops y'all!

[sojourner-between-worlds]

7223 Miles

Fandom: Alex Rider/Hawaii Five-0

Summary: Alex never asked for anything, so how could Steve say no? OR Tom comes to visit, and Steve gets a glimpse of how it was before it all came crashing down.

A/N: For @just-add-butter who demanded some Tom content (well, okay, I was already planning on it anyway, BUT...lol). I hope this meets your expectations, haha. ~Partly inspired by That Chapter of Nightshade, in which AH showed us just how down Tom is for general mayhem and shenanigans.~

. . . . .

Alex never asked for anything.

In the beginning it was all Steve could do to get the kid to say when he needed something because he would never admit to it. Even when prompted, Alex hmm’d and haw’d around it and when he would finally relent, he always somehow seemed ashamed. It had irked Steve to no end, but then Lou had pointed out that, between the time spent with agencies and the couple months in foster care, Alex probably wasn’t used to having his needs actually met. Steve’s irritation had instantly evaporated, and from that day on, he would casually ask every now and again if Alex needed anything in the hopes that he’d eventually understand that he was allowed to ask for things and that Steve was happy to provide them.

So when one day in early June Alex asked for something he wanted, how could Steve say no?

Alex had mumbled and stuttered and stumbled over himself as he’d asked, but somehow Steve had gotten the gist of the request: he was wondering if his best friend could come out and stay with them in August. For a week, maybe ten days, if that was okay, and it was totally fine if it wasn’t.

Steve had pulled him into a hug and assured him that was fine, that Tom was more than welcome. Secretly, he’d been elated and excited.

That had been almost two months ago, and now it was August third and they were waiting in the arrivals area of Honolulu International Airport, Alex bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

“What’s taking so long?”

Steve grinned. “Relax. The flight just got in and he’ll have to get through customs.”

“I know. It’s just… I haven’t seen him in a year, you know?”

Steve briefly wondered what it would be like to not see Danny for a year but quickly shook the thought away. As much as they picked at each other, he had to admit (only ever to himself) that maybe he would miss his partner.

A split-second warning was all he got; Alex’s face lit up and then he was gone, weaving his way through the crowd. In between the people coming and going, Steve caught a glimpse of the reunion -- a long hug and excited chatter -- before Alex was leading the way back over to where he was still standing.

“Aloha,” Steve greeted as the pair came to a stop in front of him. “Tom, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you -- especially recently.”

“Same,” Tom replied. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course -- anytime. Let’s get out of here and grab some lunch, yeah? How do you feel about shrimp, Tom?”

“Uhm, yeah, I like shrimp.”

“Alright, then what are we waiting for?”

By the time they had finished eating, Alex almost seemed like an entirely different person to Steve. It was clear that Tom’s presence had brought out an entirely different side of Alex, one that had been buried under years of trauma. Maybe, Steve thought, this would be exactly what Alex needed to get back on track.

The first seven days flew by; even when Steve was home, he barely saw the two boys. The duo spent most of every day surfing or hiking with the occasional museum thrown in -- Chin had even taken them out spearfishing on one quiet morning. He didn’t mind, though; Alex was finally getting out of the house, and Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the kid smile so much or so brightly.

Day eight brought nearly torrential rains, cancelling the pair’s plans. Steve -- go figure -- still had to work, leaving them alone at the house for the day. When he got home that evening, he was greeted by two way too innocent faces, both boys claiming they’d had a ‘nice’ and ‘relaxing’ day.

Apparently for teenage boys that meant booby-trapping the entire house.

Had it been anyone else, Steve might have been irritated. But this was Alex and Alex’s best friend, and the kid was so darn happy that Steve couldn’t help being happy too, even as he slipped around on the flour strew across the kitchen tile. Instead of ordering them to clean it up (as he once might have done), he scooped up a handful from the floor and chucked it (as well as one can chuck flour) back at the boys laughing hysterically from the doorway. The betrayed look Alex sent his way had him in stitches of his own.

“Oh, it is on.”

Dinner was late that night and they all ate it with flour still stuck in their hair, but Steve wouldn’t have traded that night for anything in the world.

(No, he wouldn’t trade it for anything, even if he was still finding the last of their pranks three days after Tom left to go home.)

Day nine brought back the sun, drying everything out, and that evening Steve lit a fire in the pit.

“Ready to go home tomorrow?” Steve asked casually; Alex was inside digging up ingredients for s’mores, making this the first conversation Steve had had alone with Tom.

“Not really,” Tom sighed. “I’m honestly a little jealous Alex gets to live here.”

Steve smiled, nodding. He couldn’t blame the kid for not wanting to leave -- for multiple reasons. Alex had told him about the messy divorce Tom’s parents were going through -- it was part of the reason Alex had summoned up the courage to ask, to give his friend a break from everything happening at home. The divorce alone would have been hard enough, but having to go through it with your best friend on the other side of the world certainly wouldn’t be helping matters any.

“Thanks by the way.” Tom spoke just loud enough to be heard above the crackling fire. “And I don’t mean for having me -- though definitely for that, too. Being out here seems to be doing him good. He’s almost seemed like his old self, back before -- well, you know.”

Steve sighed. “I hate to say it, but I think that has more to do with you being here than anything. This is the happiest and most active I’ve seen him.”

Tom shrugged. “Maybe, but… I think you give me too much credit and yourself not enough. The first time we talked on the phone, he barely said anything. But now -- I mean, he’s still quiet but it actually feels like a conversation, you know? It’s progress, even if it’s small. Out here at least he has a fighting chance at normal. He’s away from them and with someone who will keep them away. If he came back to England -- even if they left him alone, which they probably wouldn’t -- there’s no way anything could ever be normal -- too many bad memories.”

“I’m not sure it ever can be anyway.”

“No,” Tom huffed, “I guess not. Too much has happened. But you know what I mean. I’m glad he has you looking out for him. Maybe things can’t go back, but I still think this is the best shot he’s got.”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know about that. I can’t even convince him to go back to school. I”m trying not to be pushy about it, to let him decide when he’s ready, but…”

“We haven’t talked much about school.” Tom frowned. “He didn’t tell me he wasn’t back in yet.”

“We’ve been taking things slow, but I think -- and I’d say this week proves -- that him getting out and being around people his own age would really do him some good.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Tom shrugged casually.

“You don’t need to --.”

“Hey, Alex,” Tom interrupted as the other boy came towards them. “Get your sorry self back to school, mate.”

Alex stopped between them, leveling a look of disbelief at Steve. “What did you say?”

Steve held up his hands in defense as Tom spoke. “Told me enough, mate. C’mon. Gotta get back up sometime.”

Crossing to the opposite side of the fire pit and depositing the supplies for s’mores on the table, Alex sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“You’ve known me how long and you still have to ask? Seriously, though, Alex. You can’t just hide from the world forever.”

Alex tipped his head back in frustration and resignation. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like someone else I know.”

“Then you know it’s good advice.”

“Ugh, fine,” he relented with a groan, aggressively spearing two marshmallows onto a roasting stick. “But if it ends up being a disaster, don’t blame me.”

Steve could only stare at Tom’s smug smile, momentarily dumbfounded. “Should’ve had you come visit sooner apparently.”

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.”

“I was going to go with ‘annoying’ and ‘persistent’,” Alex muttered.

“That’s why you love me.”

Alex snorted. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

The trio stayed up perhaps far later than they should have considering Tom’s early flight the next morning, but Steve figured they deserved one last night to spend as much time together as possible. But morning came all too soon anyway, Steve finding the two boys passed out in a heap on the couch, having apparently never actually gone to bed after he’d left them around eleven. Before they knew it, they were back at the airport saying their goodbyes.

As Steve hugged Tom, he said, “You’re always welcome here -- I mean that. Come back anytime you want.”

Tom pulled away with a smirk. “You know I’m going to take you up on that, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Alex and Tom shared a wordless embrace and then, with only a smile and a nod, Tom turned for his gate.

“What, no words of farewell?”

“Nah.” Alex shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll never see him again, so ‘goodbye’ just…feels too final, but I can’t say ‘see you later’ either because it could be awhile.”

“Then how about, a hui hou?” Steve asked. “‘Until we meet again’.”

Alex smiled, small but genuine. “Yeah. I like that. A hui hou.”

. . . . .

Tags: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @just-add-butter  (lmk if you’d like added/removed!)

[griffins-fanfic]

Finding Midnight-Chapter 3

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Moxiety, background Logince

Warnings: none that I know of

Summary: Roman begins his lifelong rivalry with Midnight ft some cute platonic Royality

AO3

[[MORE]]

Roman was exhausted. If he never had to deal with another lady who thought she knew everything, or another table of frat boys who made not so subtle homophobic comments at his retreating back, it would be too soon. He had never been so relieved that it was movie night in his life. He arrived home, changed into clothes bordering on pajamas, ran a makeup wipe over his face, and nearly sprinted the four blocks he had to walk to get to Patton and Virgil's apartment.

Once there, he let himself into the apartment with his key. Patton was in the kitchen making popcorn, so he waved a greeting and walked into the living room. There, Virgil was sitting cross legged, on his phone, oblivious to Roman's arrival.

Roman took the opportunity to collapse onto the couch, his head landing on Virgil's lap, startling the man. He landed facedown, and started groaning immediately.

"Rough day at work?" Virgil asked, combing his hand through Roman's hair.

"Understatement of the century." He muttered. He stayed there, enjoying the affection, until he felt a prick of pain on his leg. He yelped and shot up, jumping onto the back of the couch.

"Midnight!" Patton yelled from the doorway. Virgil started laughter, small giggles quickly turning into hearty guffaws as he curled in on himself. Roman only squinted in confusion at the blur of black scattering across the floor, the obvious culprit of the pain. Patton scooped it up and started toward the couch.

"Sorry about that," he said, "I'm not sure why she attacked you."

"The demon has a name?" Roman gasped.

Virgil wiped the tears from his eyes and calmed down. 

"the demon is edging you out of your best friend spot, so I'd be careful what you say about her. She's a dumpster cat we adopted a couple days ago."

"And who's idea was it not to warn me?" Virgil raised a hand and Roman narrowed his eyes at him. He knew it.

"I'm sure you just startled her. She's still skittish." Patton said. "Here." He stepped closer. "Give her your hand."

Roman slowly reached his hand out and held it a foot from the ball of fluff in Patton's arms. He got hissing in return.

Virgil giggled again. "I guess she just doesn't like you."

Roman gasped, affronted. "How dare you! How could any creature on this Earth dislike me?"

Virgil gave him what Roman considered the side eye of the century. "I wonder."

Roman threw a pillow at him, immediately regretting it when Midnight launched out of Patton's arms and started attacking him again. After thirty seconds of pain and screaming, Patton managed to get ahold of her and shut her in Virgil's room.

"What the hell!" Roman gasped.

"She's usually really sweet, I don't know what's up with her." Patton said. "Are you bleeding anywhere?" He knelt down to check over Roman.

"I have an idea." Virgil said.

"Care to share with the class Emo Nightmare?" Roman sucked in a breath when Patton's fingers brushed over a wound on his wrist.

"You come in here, slam the door shut, act like your usual loud self as you make your way to the living room. These actions paint you as a threat in her eyes. Then, you jump on me. She must have interpreted that as you attacking me, and she wasn't about to let a stranger attack her dad without defending him."

"That, actually makes sense."

"I'm gonna go get Band-Aids." Patton got up to find them.

"Shock and awe, I was smart about something for once, I know. I grew up with cats. I'm pretty decent at reading them."

Patton came in with a box of Disney Band-Aids and Roman reached out to grab them. "Where's Specks?"

"Logan couldn't make it due to 'unforeseen circumstances." Virgil said.

"Oh." Roman tried to ignore the disappointment that settled in his stomach. It made no sense, anyway. He had known Patton for years, and met Virgil a couple days after they become roommates. He only met Logan a few weeks ago, when he came to movie night for the first time. So there was so reason he should be so disappointed that he wasn't there.

"Now quit moping," Virgil said, Roman hadn't realized he had been wearing his emotions so clear on his face. "We're watching Heathers."

Roman's mood was brightened instantly. One thing that Roman and Virgil had bonded over was their love for what Roman called "The Holy Trinity" of teen girl cult classics. Heathers, Clueless, and Mean Girls. Virgil had been working backwards in introducing the other two to those movies, working backwards chronologically whenever it was his turn to pick the movie. Heathers was Virgil's favorite and Clueless was Roman's.

Virgil turned the movie on and they settled into their spots. Through trial and error they had organized a way for four people to comfortably fit on the couch a few weeks ago. Patton sat on the left end of the couch, next to the side table. He had access to all their drinks. Roman sat in the middle of the couch, feet on the single foot rest, sometimes he leaned against Logan, sometimes Logan sat in the chair. Virgil curled up with his head in Patton's lap and his feet in Roman's.

They went through the movie, Roman quoting nearly all of Chandler's lines, Virgil quoting nearly all of Veronica's, Patton gasping at all the deaths. As the credits rolled and they realized Virgil had fallen asleep, and Roman realized that all the tension in his chest had eased. He loved his friends a lot, and they always knew how to cheer him up.

~~~

Roman returned the next day with a bucket of cat treats, he was determined to make amends with the cat. Patton opened the door, obviously surprised to see him.

"Roman!" He said.

"I've come to apologize to the cat."

Patton ushered him in. "well come in then. Virgil's at work, but maybe that will help. I think Midnight's in the living room."

She was sitting right next to her scratching post, looking out the window. There was a tree right outside their window that had a bunch of squirrels around it. It was September, so they were scurrying around gathering their nuts.

Roman walked over, taking a couple of treats out of the bucket. He crouched down when he got a few feet away from her and held out the treats. She only give him attention when he started clicking his tongue.

She turned her head, gave him a slow once-over, and turned back to the window. Roman moved so he was sitting cross-legged instead of crouching uncomfortably. Fine. If she was wanting to play the waiting game, he would win.

That lasted a total of 90 seconds until he got bored. He threw the treats in her general direction and got up, going to sit on the couch next to Patton.

"You just need to be patient." Patton said. "She'll warm up to you eventually."

Roman huffed and leaned back into the couch cushions. "Patience isn't exactly my strongest trait."

Patton sighed. "oh dear. I do hope she likes you eventually. I wouldn't enjoy it if mine and Virgil's child and one of my very best friends disliked each other."

Roman felt his eyebrow quirk involuntarily. Ever since Patton accidentally confessed, Roman never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush on a certain embodiment of a dark and stormy night. He turned toward Patton and put his chin on his folded hands. "So you now have a child with him?" He asked.

"I mean yeah. He found her and brought her home, and we're taking care of her together. It's basically like we have a kid." Patton said, a slight blush already creeping up his face.

"Practicing for something?" Roman teased, earning a light smack on his wrist.

"Oh hush." Patton giggled.

"Perhaps practicing for when you have actual human children with a certain someone?" He kept pushing.

Patton burned red now, nervous laughter continue to spill from his lips. "Oh now really, I'm telling you to zip it."

"C'mon Padre, why haven't you told him?" The mood changed very quickly. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that.

Patton wrapped an arm around himself and averted his gaze so he no longer was making eye contact with him. He took a deep breath. "because I'm, I don't know, scared?"

Roman sat back up. "Scared of what?"

"His reaction? I know logically that he wouldn't react badly, but there's always that fear, you know? I don't want to lose him."

"But what if you not confessing is the reason that you lose him?" Teasing aside, they didn't really have that many serious moments where he could talk about stuff like that with Patton.

"There's too much of a risk. I can't, Roman."

"But what if-"

"Roman! Please." Patton finally looked him in the eye for the first time since the conversation turned serious. His eyes were filled with desperation, sad enough that Roman knew immediately he had gone too far.

He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. You're right. I went too far. Sorry." They sat in silence for a while, both watching the cat, who was watching the squirrels. Roman was desperate to salvage the situation, he didn't like leaving his friends on a bad or awkward note.

"Are you doing anything today?" He asked finally.

Patton shook his head. "No. I was planning on getting some writing done, but I've already reached my word count goal for today."

"Do you want to go to the art museum? I'm off today."

Patton hummed in thought for a second. "Sure! I've just gotta feed Midnight first."

Roman jumped up at that. "That's it!" He shouted, startling both Patton and the cat. "That's how I'll get her to like me! I'll feed her."

"That's a good idea." Patton got up and walked into the kitchen, Roman following. He grabbed a can of wet cat food, a pale pink food bowl, and a can opener. "Just put the food in the bowl, break it up a little, and set it next to the water bowl."

Roman held the can opener in his hand and stared at the closed can of food. He continued to stare for a while, too embarrassed to admit why he hadn't started you.

Luckily, Patton was good at reading people. "You don't know how to use a can opener." He said simply. Roman nodded. "Well, here, I'll teach you."

Patton quickly explained how to use the opener, Roman watching intently. He knew he was way too old to not know this, but he just didn't use a lot of canned food.

As soon as Patton cracked the can open, Midnight appeared in the kitchen, circling Patton's feet, yelling at him. Patton passed the can to Roman, who dropped the food in the bowl and set it down. Midnight approached cautiously. She gave Roman a dirty look before finally crouching down to eat her food.

Roman sat down next to the bowl and watched for a few seconds. Then he slowly reached a finger out and scritched Midnight's head. In a flash, Roman had another cut on his hand and Midnight was hiding behind Patton's legs.

Roman sighed and stood up. "Well, let's try again later."

Patton smiled at him. "Let's go."

They had lots of fun at the museum. The two of them were never people for staring at art and looking for meaning in them, Logan refused to go with them to museums for that reason. Instead, they wandered the halls, chatting casually, occasionally making jokes about the art on the walls, their attempts at hushed giggles getting dirty looks from a bunch of other people.

Roman did find one painting that spoke to him for reasons it couldn't explain. It was a portrait of a woman and two young girls, and something in one of the girl's expression stirred something in him. He stared at that single painting for way too long, until Patton pulled him away to make a dumb joke about a sculpture.

They returned home, spirits high, and Roman was so glad he had that impromptu day with his best friend. They were the first people to befriend each other of the four, and Roman loved Logan and Virgil to death, he truly did, but he sometimes missed when it was just the two of them.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @kosmicsides @ananonsplace @thatgaydemigodnerd @serenitythepanther

[delkios]

Into the Great Wide Open (DC TV)

Title from the Tom Petty song. Also please ignore the fact that I forgot about the lack of mountains along the Kansas-Missouri border, oops. Title: Into the Great Wide Open Fandom: DC TV Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2374 In Responds to: ColdWave Week 2018: You Captured My Heart Characters: Len, Mick, Lisa cameo at the end Summary: Len decides to try a bit of camping. Spoilers: it doesn’t end well. “Len!” At the sound of his partner calling his name in distress, Len took off like a shot toward it. He ducked around trees, jumping roots and large rocks, trying to remember the path he’d taken, cursing to himself for not realizing when Mick had fallen behind. “Len!” He found Mick, half sprawled on the ground, and busted out laughing. “Shut up, asshole!” Mick snapped, face red either from embarrassment or trying to free his leg from a thick patch of mud. “Help me outta this!” “You can face down mob muscle and entire squads of cops, but it’s overly friendly mud that takes down the great Mick Rory.” “I’ll burn you in your sleep,” was the petulant retort. Len gingerly knelt by Mick at the edge of the mud. He gave Mick’s leg a tug, then a harder one. “You know, it’ll be easier if you just give up the boot.” “Well I guess I’m gonna fucking die here because there’s no way in hell I’m tromping through a damn forest without shoes.”

“So dramatic.” “Shut up and help me, dammit. This is your fault anyway.” He snorted, wiggling Mick’s leg to try to get a little room to work with. “It’s a camping trip. You’re not being kidnapped.” “You literally told me you were kidnapping me to go camping.” “Only because you refused to do it willingly. Aren’t you some kind of country bumpkin?” Len teased as he slowly worked Mick’s foot free. “I thought roughing it was in your blood.” “Camping sucks. The country sucks. Do you have any idea how goddamn dark it gets out here? You’re basically blind.” Mick huffed, carefully scooting back on his butt once his foot- and boot -were out of the mud. “Can’t believe some city bum wants to go camping.” “Yeah, well.” Len’s expression grew soft and melancholy. “It was one of those things my grandpa talked about taking me to do.” But it never happened, Mick knew. The man had basically worked himself to death trying to care for his grandchildren behind Lewis’s back. “Can’t believe I let you talk me into being uncomfortable and miserable for half a week,” Mick groused. Just as he hoped, it made Len crack a smirk. “There’s a reason people live in cities, you know.” “Getting away from it helps you appreciate those modern conveniences.” “I’m very appreciative. Can we go now?” Chuckling, Len slapped Mick’s shoulder as he stood up and started back on the path again. “If you want to find your own way back to the car, be my guest.” Mick hesitated before following grudgingly after. “I don’t trust you not to get your bony ass eaten by a bear.” “Glad to hear it.” Len looked over his shoulder with a wicked smirk. “After all, I did kidnap you for this trip so you can keep me warm at night.” Mick growled, eyes growing dark. He sped up until he was right behind Len, pressed against his shoulder. “We should hurry up and find a camping spot. Test it out. Make sure it’ll be comfortable for tonight.” Len just laughed at him. ~*~*~*~ Between the drying mud making it difficult for Mick to bend his ankle fully, a misplaced step twisting the other one just enough it twinged with every other step and walking face first into a branch because he hadn’t been paying attention, Mick was just as miserable as he said he’d be when Len finally decided to set up camp. To make up for the crappy trek, he let Mick make the fire as big as he wanted. “Just don’t let it get out of control,” he told Mick before grabbing the fire bucket and a spade to dig up dirt to put the fire out with later. Mick grumbled- just for show -and all but bounded into the trees like a kid in a toy store. While Mick did that, Len found a nearby stream- right where the map said. It was crystal clear and cold enough to shock Len’s teeth when he stuck his hand in it. Snow melt, he read, but it hadn’t really occurred to him just how cold it would be. Mick would hate it, he decided with amusement. He filled up his water bottle in the stream as well as a large container for general use. It was only about a quarter mile from where they’d set up but it would still be a bother making that walk every time they wanted water for mundane things like washing their hands. After that Len went about setting up the camp: putting up the tent- which Mick had to help him with because while the instructions were easy, the poles very much did not like bending that way -unrolling the sleeping bags, putting out things like the lantern, toiletries and a shotgun- which Mick refused to come without because there are goddamn wild animals out here and a little knife isn’t going to stop most of them, Lenny -in easy reach. Then stringing a hammock between a couple trees and setting the bear-proof canister on the outskirts of the camp. Len didn’t actually know if bears were that much of an issue in this area but when Mick saw it, he swore up and down he’d never go camping with Len. Which lead to lugging around the shotgun. By the time the camp was to Len’s liking, the sun was starting to set and Mick had finally gotten the fire pit to his liking. “Really, Mick,” Len teased as he broke out the skewers, marshmallows and chocolate because what good, non-arson-related fire was complete without s’mores? “They’ll be able to see this from space.” “Be a crappy view for ‘em,” came the distracted reply, Mick focusing on setting up the kindling. The fire, even Len had to admit, was impressive. And it brought Mick’s good humor back. They had a couple cold sandwiches and chips for dinner given the fire, according to Mick, was too hot. Anything they’d try to cook on it would be burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. They demolished half the bag of marshmallows, mostly by eating them but a fair few became projectiles that Len later scooped up and tossed in the fire to keep hungry critters from wandering into their camp. After their earlier hike just getting to the site, it didn’t take long for the sugar crash to set in. They put out the fire, put on their pajamas and slipped into the sleeping bags Len had zipped together. A chill was beginning to set but, between the thick layers, small space and shared body heat, Len thought it might end up getting stifling in the tent. The thought stayed in the back of his head as he began to drift off to sleep, face pressed against the curve of Mick’s back. “...Len?” Len just made a muffled noise in acknowledgement. “The ground’s too hard and it’s too damn noisy. I can’t sleep.” Scowling against Mick’s back, Len let his hand flop forward until he could slap it over Mick’s mouth. While that had been sufficient hint for Mick to shut up during the night, it didn’t stop Mick from tossing and turning. Which, in turn, kept Len from doing more than dozing. In the end, just as the morning birds were starting to sing and the temperature in the tent went from warm to boiling, Len unzipped his half of the joined sleeping bag and tried to salvage what sleep he could on the hammock. When he finally woke up not all that long later, Len was cranky, tired and sore. Mick, looking just as cranky, tired and sore, said from where he was cooking breakfast over a small fire, “I told you. Being in the country fucking sucks.” He ended up burning breakfast because something something, open fires are harder to regulate temperature than grills. Len was too irritable to care as he gnawed on plain bread, burnt eggs and a dry granola mix. Even with his food history it was a pretty bad meal. Afterward, Len walked to the stream to wash up. There was still plenty in the container he filled the day before but he figured he’d use the time away from Mick to calm down a bit. After all, it wasn’t his partner’s fault that the ground- and hammock -were terrible to sleep on. Maybe next time, if there ever was one, Len would consider an air mattress worthwhile to lug around. Len returned to find Mick was staring deeply at the fire. After putting his stuff away and dressing for the day, Len stood and surveyed his surroundings. “The hell do people do out here?” He asked. “Nothing,” Mick replied, gaze not wavering. “There’s not a goddamn thing to do.” If Len didn’t know any better, he’d think maybe Mick’s pyromania was a result of boredom. “Do you want to go for a hike?” When Mick gave him an incredulous look, Len shot back, “There’s nothing else to do so why not?” Mick continued to glare. In the end, though, he reached for the fire bucket and upended it over the fire. Len couldn’t help the warm smile as he overheard Mick mutter, “Can’t believe I’m in love with you.” The hike wasn’t too bad though Len’s internal map was off just enough that they couldn’t find the camp for a good half hour. By then the sun was just reaching its apex, leaving them both sweating and out of breath. Len grabbed their toiletries and told Mick, “Let’s wash up before lunch.” Mick, blatantly eyeing Len, growled in agreement. They reached the stream and Mick immediately pulled off his shirt, intent obvious. Len stifled a snicker as he dipped a washcloth in the stream, got it nice and wet, then slapped it against Mick’s bared chest. Mick yelped loudly, jumping back and pulling the cloth off him. “Fuck, that’s cold!” Len just cackled at him, lathering up his own washcloth. “I fucking hate you,” Mick said just before he retreated a good ten feet away, muttering about how his dick was going to shrivel up inside his body. Lunch was a simple affair of roasted hot dogs and buns toasted on the outskirts of a fire. That still left an awful lot of hours with nothing to do, however. When Len got back from cleaning up their lunch, he found Mick in the hammock, reading a book. He looked up at Len’s approach. “Wanna join me?” Len’s back twinged in protest but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He grabbed his own book and, after nearly capsizing the hammock three times on his way in, settled against Mick’s side. They stayed like that until the sun began to set. That night they layered the sleeping bags one on top of the other. It didn’t leave a lot of room for the both of them to lay together and they’d be chilly until the tent warmed up but there was a little extra padding. It still was hardly comfortable but it at least got them through the night. Still without anything to do, they went for another hike the next day. Instead of washing up at the stream, though, Len filled up a couple of bowls with water and brought them over to the afternoon fire to warm up while Mick cooked. After eating, with Mick eyeing the bowls with confusion, Len tested the temperature of the water. Deeming it acceptable, he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Uh, Lenny?” Mick asked, clearly confused. Len let the shirt slip off his shoulders, giving his partner a coy smile. He wetted a washcloth. “You do me, I do you?” “Are you seriously trying to seduce me with basically a sponge bath?” “Only if it works.” Mick stared at him for a moment. “Fuck it, I’m easy.” He pulled off his shirt and hummed in approval at the first swipe of the warm cloth against his skin. That night Len lounged in the tent, content, naked and- for once -unself-conscious, watching as Mick cooked dinner in nothing but a pair of boxers. Something both of them quickly came to regret after waking up covered in bug bites. Mick had a hand down his pants in a way that wasn’t remotely sexy, scratching at a bite high on the inside of his thigh. “Can’t believe we’re out here for two more damn days.” Len, in the midst of rubbing his back against a tree to get a trio of bites right under his shoulder blade, silently agreed. ~*~*~*~ “Oh, look,” Lisa said casually from her place on the couch. “You two survived.” She gave Mick a shit-eating grin. “I guess camping isn’t as bad as you made it out to be.” “Next time he kidnaps me for a camping trip,” Mick growled, “I’m dragging you with me. See how smug you are after that.” Lisa patted his arm, not even trying to hide her amusement. “I’ll be sure to steal any camping books he picks up so you can burn them.” She turned to Len as Mick stomped off to set down their gear. Her eyebrow raised. “Well? Everything you hoped it would be?” “Overrated,” Len admitted. His eyes drifted after Mick, thinking about the mornings in that little tent, warm and isolated, like the world was just the two of them or the afternoons they spent in the hammock reading to each other. He thought about Mick stripped and pliant as Len washed him, body gleaming with water and sunlight. He thought about the evenings by the fire as night fell, sitting between Mick’s legs and leaning against his chest, Len singing softly and Mick as enthralled by Len’s voice as he was by the fire. “But it had its highlights.”