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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #Sarah Wilson #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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bethansfandoms · 4 years ago

Note

I have a quote prompt it is “if the world ended tonight I would be glad your by my side” .

As Remus sat on the astronomy tower, the pleasant summer evening slowly turning into night, he wondered how long he could get away with sitting there before anybody found him or noted him missing.

It had been the full moon the previous night. His last one at Hogwarts. In four days the train would pull into kings cross station like it did at the end of every year. Except, this time, Remus wouldn’t be catching it again the following September.

He stayed sat against the wall, hugging his knees as the final dregs of daylight faded away and were replaced by darkness. The moon was clearly visible and reflected its pearly image into the black lake. Remus smiled slightly. How strange it was that something so beautiful could do such terrible things.

“There you are.”

Remus snapped out of his daydream and turned his head. Sirius was standing there in what appeared to be his pyjama t-shirt and school trousers, as though he had been half way through getting ready for bed and then changed his mind.

Sirius smiled and sat down next to him. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet before you showed up.”

Sirius laughed and gently nudged their shoulders together. “Very funny. Feeling sentimental yet?”

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A little. I don’t think I’m ready for the real world yet.” It was so truthful that it scared him a little bit. “I think Hogwarts has given me a very deluded view of how easy it’ll be for people like me.”

“People like you?” Sirius questioned. “What? Smart? Top of the class? Passionate? Give me a hint.”

Remus sighed and looked at Sirius’ profile, his skin slightly illuminated by the moonlight. “None of that will matter to anybody as soon as they find out I’m a werewolf.”

“Do you know what I think, Moony?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Sirius smirked slightly. “I think you spend so much time belittling yourself that you fail to see that not everybody in the world will judge you for that. Case and point, moi.” He clutched a hand to his chest for emphasis.

“Potential employers will. I just... I wanted to have it all figured out by now, I wanted a plan.”

“If you could do anything, imagining there wasn’t a war on, what would you do?”

“Imagining I wasn’t a werewolf, too?”

“Remus,” Sirius said, sadly.

“No, don’t pretend it isn’t an issue. If I could do anything... I’d teach. Here. And that’s never going to happen because nobody will want me anywhere near their children so... yeah. I’ll join Dumbledore’s order and I’ll fight in a war and if it’s ever over, then I’ll be left with nothing.”

“For the record, you would be an excellent teacher. And don’t say that. When the war is over, you won’t have nothing. You’ll have me for a start.

Remus sighed. “Living with me can’t be your life plan, surly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... James is moving in with Lily, isn’t he? One day you’ll find your Lily too.”

“You say that like you won’t.”

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice laced with the faintest traces of frustration. “Dating means telling them what I am. I can’t conceal it from someone, that isn’t fair.”

“Merlin, Moony, how many times? You are more than that stupid affliction. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re caring and you... fuck, Remus, you’re one of the best people I know. Not everyone will care about the werewolf thing, I don’t, do I?”

Remus hugged his knees a little closer and rested his chin on them. “You’re sure you want to live with me?”

Sirius turned his head, studying Remus before looking back up at the stars and huffing. “Did you listen to a single thing I just said? I want you by my side, Remus.”

Remus nodded slowly, glancing at Sirius. “Sorry for being all... pessimistic. It just— leaving Hogwarts, fighting in a war. It just feels like the end of the world, you know?”

Sirius shrugged. “The world is always ending. And if it did, if the world ended tonight, I’d be glad you’re by my side. Got it? You’re not this... unemployable unloveable person, Remus. You’re you. So just... don’t forget that.”

Remus didn’t quite understand what Sirius had meant but he smiled and pointed up at the night sky. “That’s you,” he said.

Sirius looked to where his finger was pointing. “How’re you always so good at finding that star, huh?”

“The only reason I took OWL level astronomy was so I could perfect that talent. There was a question about Sirius in my astronomy paper, did I tell you?”

“No?”

Remus chuckled slightly. “Sirius is the brightest star in what, was the question. I put quidditch for a laugh.”

Sirius rotated himself so he was sat facing Remus’ profile, Remus turned to face him too. “You didn’t.”

“Hand on heart,” Remus said, placing his hand on the left of his chest for emphasis, “it was one of two marks i dropped on that whole paper. Professor Merak confronted me about it, said it was funny but exams were no laughing matter. Got an O anyway.”

“I guess now would be a good time to tell you about my defence against the dark arts NEWT exam...”

“Oh no, what?”

“You know the question about how werewolf attributes were different to normal wolves?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“I put that they were cuter.”

Remus shoved his shoulder. “I would lecture you about that but given what I just told you... I probably shouldn’t. Also, cute?”

Sirius bit his lip slightly and broke eye contact. “Yeah... well. You’re quite cute.”

“Cute like adorable or cute like good looking?” he teased, regretting the question the moment it was out of his mouth.

Sirius shrugged. “Why not both?”

“Sirius...”

Sirius clearly thought for a moment before announcing “Fuck it.” He turned his head to look at Remus slightly.

“Look, we’re leaving Hogwarts this weekend and you’re right, the real world is going to be terrible. There’s a war and I’m trying to stay positive about it but it’s really hard. Do you want to know why I asked if you wanted to get a flat with me?”

“Because I have no money?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You’re right, it’ll feel like the world as we know it is ending but the one thing I think could make it bearable is having you by my side so... do with that what you will. I just thought you should know before we left.”

“Know what?”

“That—” Sirius stopped and laughed nervously. “Haven’t said it out loud before,” he muttered. “That i’m in love with you, Moony. I have been for a while. Even if you don’t feel the same, there’s your proof, I guess, that there are people in this world capable of loving you and if you don’t want me to be that person for you then—”

Remus had to stop him talking and so he took his face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Sirius did nothing for a moment before tugging at the front of Remus’ robes and trying to pull him closer. When they broke away for air, Sirius had a grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry for dropping the L word on you like that,” Sirius mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

Sirius looked at him with another smile, this one brighter than the star named after him or the moon or even the sun. “You do?”

“Yes. For a long time.”

“Shit. I should’ve said sooner...”

Remus smiled and rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder, Sirius quickly wrapping an arm around him. “Oh, Padfoot?”

“Yeah?”

“If the world ended tonight I’d want you by my side, too.”

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar headcannon #wolfstar textpost #wolfstar oneshot #mwpp

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hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis · 3 years ago

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The Distance Between Us 04. Start of a New Life

Summary: Alexandria Eaton is the youngest child of Marcus Eaton. What will happen when she defects from Abnegation and decides to follow in her older brother’s footsteps. Can she make it through Dauntless initiation with her secret or will she find herself in the factionless? And what will happen when the most cold-hearted leader takes an interest in her?

Post Date: 08.09.21

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Eric Coulter x OC

Masterlist

DBU Masterlist

After Four and Eric had explained to us how the initiation process works, they split the Dauntless-born and us transfers up. Four leads us to a large open room, most of it was empty but there were a few mats, punching bags, and some other training and workout equipment scattered throughout the space.

“Here is where you’ll be training. I want you all to be here by 8 am to begin training on the weekdays. Alright, I have a few other members here to help with training,” Four says.

They split us into groups, two of which began endurance training, and the other two observe fighting drills. Chris, Tris, and I were in Four’s group where he and another member had us observe training drills.

We gathered around one of the pads and Four began to explain how physical training will work, “Every day of training we will start with some sort of running to warm up, whether it be in here or around the compound. After warm-up, we will work on specific skills knife throwing, shooting, hand to hand, and other such skills. For today, we will start basic training. Mason and I here will show you how to fight hand to hand combat,” Four says. They display a few rounds of combat, most of the time Four is the one to take Mason down. “Now, over time you will learn to use these moves,”

After the little demonstration, a member named Tracie, explains to our group where we are to run, to help build endurance and stamina. I follow the group as I run around the room, I barely kept up but just enough to stay with them. After we warmed up, they had us use the workout equipment or learn how to punch on the bags.

“Well, this is killer,” Chris says coming up to me while I take a break.

“It could be worse, but I definitely need to build up my stamina,” I respond.

“Alright, everybody. That’s it for today. See you back here tomorrow morning at 8. Don’t be late,” Four says. Everyone starts to cool off and head out of the training room.

“I’ll meet you in the dorms. Just give me a bit longer,” I say to Christina and Tris. Even though I was fine, I wanted to wait to talk to Four.

“Okay,” Chris and Tris say and head out. Four waits until everyone else cleared out before approaching me.

“So was I terrible?” I chuckle.

“No. I think I was actually much worse when I started,” He says sitting next to me.

“Shut up. You’re just saying that to make me feel better Mr top of his class,” I respond.

“I’m serious… We shouldn’t hang out too long. Someone might get suspicious and I have to go to a meeting in a bit. But I’ll see you later,” He says and kisses the top of my head.

“T? Sorry...I mean Four,” I say.

“Yeah,” He says.

“I missed having you around,” I say.

“Me too, Lexi. Alright, I gotta go,” He says and walks out.

I walk down the halls, but before I knew it I was lost. I turn the corner almost bumping right into Eric of all people. “Lost initiate?” He asks staring right into my eyes.

“A--Actually yeah. I was just trying to get to the dorms,” I respond hesitantly.

“The dorms are down the hall, the first right, then second left, and is the doorway at the end,” He says.

“Thanks,” I say and start to move past him.

“How was your first day of training?” He asks turning me around by my arm.

“It was fine. Hard, but I’ll get used to it,” I respond.

“That’s great to hear. I hope you make it,” He says.

“Uhhh..thanks,” I say.

“You know I can walk you to the dorms. Make sure you don’t get lost again,” He says.

“I--I think I got it. First right, second left, and to the end,” I say repeating the directions.

“Alright. I will see you around then, initiate,” Eric says and walks away.

I walk from my position towards the dorm, not really knowing how to process the conversation I just had with Eric. I mean it was nice of him to offer to walk me, but it seemed way out of character for him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I got lost,” I say walking into the dorms.

“Well, unless you want to shower. We planned to go and hang out with some of the other initiates,” Tris says.

“I think I’m good. Let me just change out of my sweaty clothes,” I say. Once I was finished, we all head to the Pit, where we met up with a few other initiates, both Dauntless-born, and transfers. The Dauntless-born showed us a bit more around the compound and even showed us some of their “secret spots”.

After we were finished, I stayed out because I wanted to do my night walks like I used to do at Abnegation, except without the sneaking out. This time I stuck to the areas I know, to not get lost or at least I hope. As I walked through the halls it almost felt like someone or something was watching me. I left it alone though as I pegged it for some members doing patrol or some with late jobs.

Before I knew it I had slammed my entire body into another’s as I turned a corner. “Lost again are we?” I hear a familiar voice say.

“Not this time,” I say looking up at Eric’s cold facial expression.

“Twice in one day… you sure?” He asks.

“I’m sure…sticking to the halls I know,” I respond.

“You know you shouldn’t be wandering the halls this late at night,” Eric says.

“I’m not wandering. I’m… actively walking around. But I could say the same for you. What are you doing out here so late?” I ask.

“And what makes you think you can ask me questions, stiff?” He asks.

“Nothing, I just figured I’d ask too, I mean you don’t have to answer,” I respond.

“You could say I’m actively walking around as well,” Eric says after a few moments of intense staring. “You should get some rest, you have training tomorrow. I’ll walk you back to the dorms,” he says.

“I can get back just fine. I know where to go,” I respond.

“I’m sure you can. But I want to make sure you get there,” He says. Eric presses his hand on my lower back as he leads me back to the dorms. He doesn’t shift his hand one bit as we make our way through the maze of halls.

“Now get some rest initiate. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training,” Eric says, finally removing his hand from my lower back.

He doesn’t budge his position one bit as I make my way through the doorway like he wanted to make sure I would get there. I’d expect this behavior from my brother but not Eric. I mean we just met and from what I can tell, he’s not the easygoing, polite, and forgiving type either.

The next morning, I thankfully woke up at the right time, mostly thanks to the boys making loud noises and the showers going. Once we were dressed, Christina, Tris, and I head to the training room. Four and Eric started promptly at 8 am and had us do laps around the training room to warm up. There were a few stragglers in which my brother was not happy to see, nor was Eric.

“Happy to see you four finally join us. 20 laps,” Eric orders, double the amount that we have to do. “You get a pass this time. But if you’re late again you’re out,” Eric says to the four late arrivals.

Once we had finished out laps and the stragglers were finishing up theirs, Four and Eric split us into 3 groups. One who trained on the workout equipment and the other two with each instructor, “We will rotate the groups. At the workout equipment, you will continue to build strength. Eric will teach you more hand to hand. And I will how to disarm someone,” Four explained. Unfortunately, my group was with Eric first and none of my friends were with me.

A/N: Here is the fourth part! There’s still no set schedule but I do plan to update fairly often so be on the lookout! P.S. LMK if you want to be added to the taglist.

🏷: @awkwardspontaneity

#divergent #divergent fanfiction #divergent imagine #four #Tobias Eaton #Eric Coulter #eric coulter imagine #divergentDBU

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noctilucid · 4 years ago

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DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail. "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational. Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards." Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags. A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group. "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants. Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day. She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before. But here she was, hiking in them. The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet. And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt? What was she, five?

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson." He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.

Uhg, perfecto. I'm with Creepy Manson. They did this on purpose, didn't they? Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her. She flipped through the pages. "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge. She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper. "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs. Some of them have spores." She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate. "This one can lay spores in your face."

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers. "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner! I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods. I'm too pretty to die."

"No changing groups!"

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms. "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker. "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill. "Try not to be too hard on her?"

"No promises," Sam grumbled.

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.

"Ow! Hey, get off of me!"

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground. Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly. By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased. "Why would they even put that on here? It's not native to this area."

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."

"Oh, of course," Sam returned. "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you. You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem." She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down. "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath. Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day. She just had to figure out how.

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina. "We should probably go uphill to look for it…" Paulina died a little more inside. No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time. "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down. "I think that says more about you than about me."

Paulina clenched her fists. "Ugh! You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal! Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far." Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument. She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch. "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually. Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with. "Would it kill you to apologize? ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!" She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk. "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.

"I hope you shredded it or something. I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin. "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself. "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper. Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again. Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for. The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.

"I think this is it. The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison. "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them. "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled. I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young. I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before. They take a couple of years to get established."

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one? There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same." Paulina shook her head. "You know, whatever. Let's just take a branch and go—" She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands. Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin. She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch. In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch. With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch. "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—" Magic. That was honest to god magic! Paulina felt lightheaded. She had been… dabbling. Combing the internet and old bookstores. At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention. But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic. And here it was.

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head. "Semitic Neopaganism. There's a difference."

Paulina paused to think on it. Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish? Would it even work for me? She chewed on her lip. What am I saying? There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place. Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said. "Properly. I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade. Um. And sixth and seventh too, actually." Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers. "I've never liked you. But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you." She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside. "But then you pulled Danny into it. So, I'll never apologize." She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze. "And neither will you." Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm. It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement. And Paulina had no idea how to respond. "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures. So… let's just move on." She extended a hand to Paulina. "Deal?"

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it. Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.

"Deal." She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest. Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam. Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire. "We don't like each other."

"Naturally." Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.

"But we… don't hate each other either. We just... are. Now."

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips. "Yeah."

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?" She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. That sounds fun."

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it. Oh, what does it matter? Sam's not looking at me anyway. She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head. Real magic! She'd found someone who knew real magic! She shook her head again. Of course it would be Manson. Of course.

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam. It was easier going downhill. "What do we still have to find?"

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants. "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle. They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last. We can head down and check the creek on our way back." Oh thank god, we're almost done. Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram. "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns. Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers. "Solemn. Solemn goth witch." She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed. Sam laughed.

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that. Go on, be as pink as you'd like." She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake. Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.

#dannymay2021 #phanniemay2021 #danny phantom #Paulina Sanchez #Sam Manson #my writing

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thatsamericano · 4 years ago

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To Be a Gardener in Love with a Prince

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano, Prussia cameo. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 2440

Summary: Savino makes a flower delivery in the middle of the night as he usually does, but this time Alfred wakes up.

A/N: For @aphrarepairweek2021 Day 2, “Royalty.” Inspired by this popular text post, which screams Romerica to me.

Savino checked to make sure that the small bouquet of thornless roses he’d prepared earlier were securely strapped to his chest as he approached the castle entrance. Gilbert, the palace guard, raised a single pale eyebrow him.

“Again, Savi? What is this, the third time this week?”

Savino scowled at him. “Shut up.”

Gilbert laughed and got in position to lift him up towards the first foothold on the stone wall. “You know, it might be easier to just tell Prince Alfred how you feel. That way you wouldn’t have to climb into his bedroom every night just to leave him flowers.”

Savino grunted and stretched up to place his hand over a balcony ledge. “If I wanted your advice, I would’ve fucking asked.”

Gilbert turned back to watch the area outside the castle. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Savino frowned to himself as he leveraged himself up onto the balcony. Gilbert’s comparison was strangely apt. They weren’t from feuding families, but he had about as much chance with Prince Alfred as Romeo and Juliet had of ending up together. Alfred was the eldest prince, born with more wealth and power than most people could even contemplate. Savino was just the guy who’d been hired to tend to the plants in the castle’s garden.

Alfred was pretty strange, as far as royalty went. Savino had been kicked around a lot in his life, and most people from the upper class wouldn’t bother to speak to him, because they thought a title and inherited wealth made them better than a mere commoner like Savino, especially one who got soil under their fingernails each day from toiling in a garden. But Alfred wasn’t like that. They’d met one day while Alfred was guiding his horse back to the stables, and Savino had bowed and called him “Your Royal Highness,” as he had been trained to his entire life. Alfred had chuckled, told Savino he could stand, and that he was more comfortable being called “Alfred,” and that he didn’t think he was better than anyone else just because he was a prince. The entire encounter was bizarre as hell, especially when Alfred shook his hand and asked who Savino was like they were equals.

The next day, he came back, just to chat and get to know the new gardener better. Alfred asked him questions about the seaside town he’d been born in, his life, and his family, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything Savino had to say. Alfred kept visiting, and he talked about himself too, but not in a pompous or arrogant way. Usually it was funny anecdotes about his younger brother, his parents, or the boring meetings he had to attend. Occasionally, he’d complain about how he kept getting offers of marriages on behalf of princesses from other countries. Alfred didn’t want to marry some girl he’d met only once or twice simply because it would create an advantageous political alliance.

“Who would you wanna marry?” Savino had asked him once.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. “I dunno. Someone who likes me, and I like her. Someone I can talk to for hours on end without getting bored, the way I can talk to you. Someone who makes me feel excited when I wake up, because I know I’ll get to see them that day.”

“You want to marry for love, then,” Savino concluded.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

It was at that point Savino realized that, against all his preconceived notions, Alfred had become one of his closest friends at the castle. A few months after that, he came to the painful realization that he’d fallen in love with a goddamn prince. It didn’t have anything to do with some silly fantasy about rising above his current station. He just loved Alfred, for his carefree smile, windswept blond hair, the way he’d take an extra pastry from the kitchen to make sure Savino got to eat lunch in the afternoons, and all those times he got down on his hands and knees to pull weeds out of a flowerbed with Savino just because he “looked like he could use a little help.” He loved Alfred’s tight hugs, his hilariously accurate impression of the king, the glee in Alfred’s voice when he called out for “Vinny,” the nickname he’d given Savino only a couple weeks after they’d first met, and the fact that Alfred had been so happy he’d bounced on his feet after Savino started calling him Fredo.

If Alfred had been a knight or a stable boy, Savino would have tried to figure out if he could be interested in men romantically. And then, if it seemed like a real possibility, he would have done something about his feelings. As it was, Alfred was so far out of his league that all Savino could do was pick a few flowers and leave him anonymous bouquets while he was sleeping. A confession of any kind was completely out of the realm of possibility.

After reaching that first balcony, Savino had to do a bit more careful climbing to reach the highest window, which led into the prince’s bedroom. Every time he delivered flowers to Alfred, Savino wished he could get into the castle like a normal person instead of risking life and limb. Unfortunately, Gilbert was the only guard Savino trusted not to run to the king and alert him about an intruder “harassing” his oldest son. If he was accused of trying to harm a member of the royal family, Savino could be sentenced to death, and Alfred’s protestations might not be enough to save him.

Savino wiggled through the open window, grateful that Alfred habitually left his window up in the warm summer evenings as he slept. Savino couldn’t have delivered his flowers if Alfred hadn’t been quite so trusting.

The room was dark, and he only had a bit of moonlight to guide him. But after so many clandestine visits, Savino was familiar with the layout of Alfred’s bedroom, and he was confident that he could tiptoe across the plush, carpeted floor, locate the empty vase on the third shelf of Alfred’s bookcase, leave his roses, and then retreat without Alfred having any clue he was ever here.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t counting on a footstool to be placed directly in the shadow cast by Alfred’s enormous four-poster bed. Savino stubbed his toe on the damn footstool, and hissed instead of screeching out a curse like he normally would have at the unexpected, sharp pain.

The bedcovers rustled as Alfred slowly began to wake up. “What’s going on? Who’s there?”

Savino clenched his jaw and silently prayed Alfred wouldn’t see him. If he just stayed perfectly still and didn’t breathe too loudly, maybe Fredo would assume he’d been dreaming and go back to sleep. Then Savino could get the fuck out of here with some shred of dignity left.

Too late. Alfred shifted up into a sitting position and reached over to the side table for his glasses. He put them on and squinted through the darkness. “Vinny?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Savino coughed and tried to deepen his voice. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just go back to sleep.”

“It is you!” Alfred grinned, shoved the covers back, and bounded towards him with a remarkable amount of energy for someone who’d just woken up only a few seconds ago. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Did you need to talk to me about something?”

“I… uh…” Savino couldn’t figure out what to say, and he couldn’t figure out where to look. His best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with, was wondering why Savino had snuck into his room long past midnight. If he looked up, he would see Alfredo’s goofy, oblivious smile and his hair that was mussed adorably from being rubbed across his pillow while he slept. If he cast his gaze eye level or lower, he would be looking at the prince’s goddamn silk pajamas. Anything he saw would be too intimate or too much.

Alfred stepped even closer and tilted his head down. “Dude, are those… roses? Why would you have roses strapped to your chest?”

Savino squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Alfred couldn’t see how close he was to bursting into tears. “I can explain, Fredo, I swear.”

Alfred gasped. “Oh my God! You’re the one who’s been leaving flowers in my room! I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my place, and I had no right to—"

Savino couldn’t even stutter out a full apology, because the next thing he knew, Alfred was hugging him and giggling in his ear. Not only hugging him and giggling, but picking Savino up and spinning him around in the air.

After several rotations, he finally set a baffled, dizzy Savino back down on his feet. Alfred shifted back a little to beam down at him, but kept his hands lightly resting on Savino’s waist for reasons Savino couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was trying to apologize,” Savino said slowly, to emphasize the words. “For breaking into your private bedroom. For giving you gifts that are a little strange for friends to give each other, no matter how close they are.” Maybe Alfred had missed the romantic subtext of everything he’d done? It was the only explanation Savino could think of for why he was reacting like this.

Alfred shook his head, still smiling. “Vinny, dude, you don’t have to apologize for that. The next time you want to come into my room, you can just ask. I don’t want you breaking your neck trying to climb a wall or something.”

“But what about the, um…”

“The flowers? I had no idea it was you. I mean, you are the gardener here, so it makes sense, but when Mattie brought it up to me, I was like nah, no way. Vinny’s way too cute and charming to go for someone like me. He could have anyone he wanted.”

Savino’s head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, but not from anxiety this time. “You’ve told your brother about me?”

“Heck, I’ve told everyone about you. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you so much. But the only people I’ve told everything to are Mattie and my manservant, Tolys. The rest of them would try to tell me I shouldn’t be in love with you, either because you’re a gardener or because you’re not a girl. I’d rather not have to hear their stupid opinions about you, because they don’t know shit.”

“You… you love me?” It sounded fake when Savino said it out loud, but he was only repeating what Fredo had just told him.

Alfred frowned, suddenly looking worried and insecure. “Was I not supposed to say that? I didn’t misread everything, did I? Were those just friendship flowers?”

Savino shook his head, crying and laughing at the same time. “Tesoro, there’s no such thing.”

“Oh, good. Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

Savino answered him by planting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss him. Alfred smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on Alfred’s shoulders. The roses were crushed in between them, but for the moment he had more important things to focus on.

By the time Savino broke the kiss, they were both grinning stupidly at each other. “Wow, we should’ve done that a long time ago,” Alfred said.

Savino laughed. “It would’ve been easier than climbing into your room to leave flowers all those times.”

Alfred reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m not sure how, but I’m gonna figure out a way to be with you. Before we met, I’d resigned to marrying some random princess for political reasons. The best I could’ve hoped was learning how to like her eventually. But now I know what it’s like to be happy, to be with you, and I’m too selfish to give that up. I won’t.”

Savino swallowed a lump in his throat. “Even if it meant you’d have to give up everything else in your life?”

“Even then.” He brushed a featherlight kiss over Savino’s temple. “You’re worth it, sweetheart.”

Savino’s logical side told him he shouldn’t believe Alfred, because he was making ridiculous promises no one in his position would actually keep. But the way he was treating him so softly and the way he’d called him sweetheart made Savino believe him. He smiled as he pulled back and walked over to Alfred’s bookcase. He unwrapped the roses from their makeshift wrapping and arranged them in Alfred’s empty vase.

“The flowers I got you are horribly squished, by the way.”

“Well, that’s okay. I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else.”

That sentiment was so adorably, earnestly Alfred that Savino couldn’t help himself. As soon as he walked back to Alfred, he kissed him again, and Alfred eagerly reciprocated.

“I guess this is goodbye, for now. I need to sneak back out before another guard comes on duty.”

Alfred tipped his forehead against his, and they swayed back and forth in a slow mimicry of a dance. “I’ll help you sneak in tomorrow. If you come by earlier, you’ll get to stay for longer.”

He’d love that. He loved Alfredo, and it was complicated, but no longer hopeless. He backed up towards the open window, and Alfred walked with him. “I love you, Fredo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too. Will you be safe getting down?”

“I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

Alfred peered out the window as Savino climbed out the window and very carefully descended down the castle wall. He was still standing by the window by the time Savino had made it to the ground, and he only left after Savino waved to indicate that he had made it down safely.

Gilbert smirked at Savino as he was walking past him. “Another successful flower delivery?”

Savino shrugged. “The flowers were a little squished, but I don’t think Alfredo will mind.” I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else. Savino grinned at the memory of what Alfred had said. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for at least a week.

Gilbert’s chortling followed Savino as he walked down the well-worn path between his own small house and the castle where Alfred and his family slept. His smile stayed with him even longer, until he was drifting off to sleep in his own bed.

#hetalia #romerica #aphrarepairweek #aphrarepairweek2021 #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #hws prussia #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 21

A/N: I’ve always wanted to write a super-tropey scene like the bar scene in this so I went ahead and did it and I LOVE IT, OKAY?! Also, if you haven’t seen, I posted Part 3 of my Elias story last Thursday. It’s linked on my Masterlist!

Also, just a quick note that I will be returning to a full-time job after Labour Day today. I have enough chapters written out that I don’t think I will have to skip a week of posting, and I organize my time wisely so that I still give myself time to write, but this is just a PSA/FYI that I may not get to your asks/canon questions super quickly like I have been over quarantine. They will still ALL be answered, though, so don’t worry about that!

Anyways, enjoy this!

February 18th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was dejected.

The Leafs had lost their last two games, but these felt different. They’d lost to Buffalo on Sunday 5-2, and Buffalo was one of the worst teams in the league. It didn’t even matter that there were a majority of Leaf fans in the building. Now, tonight, they’d just lost 5-2 again, but this time to Pittsburgh. She couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone, with tweet upon tweet upon tweet calling this the worst game of the season for the team. Just an absolutely awful game. No effort. No heart. No soul. One that they would have to answer for at home, since they faced them again on Thursday, but this time at home. She didn’t even like hockey and she was taking everything to heart because, well – she was part of the team now. Everybody had told her that since day one. And now, at one of the lowest points in the season, she felt that.

She couldn’t stop scrolling. Couldn’t stop reading what everybody was saying.

It was Tyson who had volunteered to drive her home tonight. Ever since Morgan broke his ankle, it was a rotation of Tyson or John. When Emma picked up Tyson, she was just as nice, but she missed Bee. She missed seeing the way Morgan looked at Bee when they were in the car, because it reminded her of how William looked at her when they were alone.

Aberdeen shuffled into the backseat of Tyson’s SUV. Tyson was in the driver’s seat, and Emma was the passenger. Everyone was silent as Tyson began driving into the city – she and Emma could tell he was dejected and mad at the game that had transpired just a few hours ago. The short flight did nothing to quell his emotions. And as Emma laid her hand on his on the gearshift, Aberdeen watched as she moved her thumb back and forth, trying to tell him that it was all okay.

“Tys…it’s not your fault,” Emma said softly, finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

“Em—”

“Tyson, listen to me.”

“—Emma, please, not right now—”

His eyes flashed to hers through the rear view mirror, but Emma wouldn’t listen to him. “I know it and you know it too. The whole defence is flawed. Plus, you guys are missing Mo. It’s not just you and you know that—”

“—Emma, I really don’t want to talk about it right now—”

“—and besides, if – or should I say when – you’re traded at the deadline, none of this will matter,” she dropped a bombshell. “Everyone knows you’re unhappy and it’s not working out and that you’re much better suited to play somewhere else.”

Aberdeen felt her body stiffen at the revelation. So Tyson was unhappy. Unhappy with playing on the Leafs. She knew he wasn’t having the best season, especially considering how successful he’d been in Colorado, but she didn’t think it was that bad. He’d gotten better when Sheldon came in, but apparently that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make him happy. And in Aberdeen’s life, happiness was important. It was almost paramount. What you did and who you surrounded yourself with and your work should, ultimately, make you happy. Was it the same in hockey? Were hockey players allowed to be happy? Were hockey players on the Toronto Maple Leafs allowed to be happy? Or was everything just a business transaction? A long road to the ultimate success of lifting the Stanley Cup, regardless of who got hurt along the way?

Tyson let out a long sigh as he continued to drive, choosing not to answer his girlfriend or say anything else. When they got off the Gardiner and into downtown, Aberdeen was almost desperate to get out. She felt very awkward. Clearly Emma and Tyson wanted, needed to have a conversation, and she was stopping that from happening. Just by being in the backseat. She almost wanted to just tuck and roll out of the car. Tyson could return her suitcase later. She really didn’t care at this point.

When he pulled up outside her condo building, Aberdeen almost didn’t want until he stopped the car and put it in park to click her seatbelt off. “Hey Aberdeen,” Tyson looked at her through the rear view mirror. She paused all her movements to stare back at him through the mirror. “I uh…I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention to Brendan, uh, you know…what you heard…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen stared back at him doe-eyed. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t…I don’t tell Brendan about anything I find out about you guys. I mean I would never…” she said softly, trailing off too.

Tyson nodded, smiling slightly. “Thanks, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

When she got out of the car, Tyson popped the trunk so she could get her bag. After one last thank you, a polite wave, and a push of the button to get it to close, she walked into her condo building. She nodded towards the security guard before walking towards the elevators.

She wondered if William felt that same way when he played last year.

***

February 20th, 2020

“Get ‘em!” Aberdeen growled as she looked down onto the ice. “Get ‘em!!!”

Brendan chuckled as he watched Aberdeen, her hands balled up in fists as she practically hung over the box. He’d never seen her so into a hockey game before, and he didn’t know what had gotten into her. “You alright, Aberdeen?”

“Get ‘em!”

He got a kick out of it. Kyle, too, was doing one of those silent chuckles and getting redder by the second. “Aberdeen, you’re going to blow your heart out. We’re gonna need to put you on meds,” Brendan commented. “You gotta remember that you’re staying until the proofs get here. You can’t waste all your energy now.”

Aberdeen calmed down a bit, but she was still on the edge of her seat. “Sorry,” she said. She knew she was maybe taking it a bit overboard, but she couldn’t help it. After the awful game against the Penguins on Tuesday, the Leafs were dominating them right now. Freddie was playing phenomenally, Jake Muzzin had just scored to put them up 1-0, and they were getting really good chances. It’s like the team did a complete 180 from what they were. She also knew, though, that she needed to stay at the arena later tonight, because the final proofs for the St. Pats jerseys were coming and she was the one who had to sign for them and place them safely and securely in Brendan’s office to see tomorrow. She didn’t know how long she’d be up tonight, and she’d need to conserve energy.

“Don’t apologize. I just don’t want you to have a heart attack,” Brendan smiled.

With the Leafs on a powerplay, Aberdeen was like a hawk following the puck. With Tavares, Matthews, and Nylander on the ice, she was praying for a goal. And then—

“YES!!!!!” she screamed as William scored a beautiful goal, jumping up in her seat and throwing her fist in the air like she was Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club. From beside her, Brendan and Kyle stayed unnaturally calm. Aberdeen looked over at them and tried to settle back into her seat calmly. “Sorry. Again,” she said, gripping the armrests of her chair. “But how can you guys be so calm?!”

“You get used to it,” Brendan smiled.

“Well, maybe you do, Mr. Hockey Player,” Aberdeen joked.

“Especially when the camera is on you,” Kyle added.

Aberdeen’s face dropped. “Oh my God, I’m not on camera, am I?!”

Kyle shook his head, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “We’ll have to see, Aberdeen, but I don’t think so.”

The Leafs dominated the rest of game. Kasperi scored another goal only three minutes after William, and Zach scored in the third to make it 4-0. Freddie got the shutout. She knew he’d be happy about that, despite his stoic reserve. As she, Brendan, and Kyle made their way to the locker room, Aberdeen saw the media already speaking to Jake Muzzin. She knew they’d want to speak with the goal scorers too, and so when she saw William and Kasperi heading to the media room, along with John, Freddie, and Sheldon, she wasn’t surprised. It was a good game. Hopefully the media would back down a bit.

She congratulated the guys and stood on the sidelines as Brendan and Kyle spoke to some of them once the media left. By that point, some of them were dressed and ready to head home. “Hey, you want a ride?” Jason offered as he approached her, tightening his tie around his neck.

“Oh, I’m staying back, actually,” Aberdeen informed him. He looked at her skeptically. “The final proofs are coming in for your St. Pats jerseys in March and I have to receive them and put them in Brendan’s office under lock and key.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Well, I can wait with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aberdeen, it’s fine. We can grab a bite to eat afterwards.”

“Jason, I might be here until, like, eleven.”

“So we’ll have an authentic Italian-style dinner then. All the more reason since I miss my motherland.”

“Jason—”

“Aberdeen, are you really going to say no me?”

She glared at him. It was like St. John’s all over again. Before she could open her mouth and say something else, another voice interrupted her. “Why’re you giving Jason the stink eye?” William asked as he approached them.

“I’m gonna wait with Aberdeen until the proofs come and then we’re gonna grab dinner. You in?” he asked William, but everybody already knew the answer.

William shrugged his shoulders casually, like Jason hadn’t just invited him to dinner with his own girlfriend. “I’m in.”

Aberdeen rolled her eyes. “You two are insufferable.”

“I like to think it’s part of our charm,” Jason smiled. “Let me call Jen and then we can go trash Brendan’s office.”

*** It was about 10:45 when Aberdeen, Jason, and William ended up at a small bar none of them had ever been to that served small pub-style plates. It was crowded, for some reason, even though it was a Thursday. Aberdeen quickly learned, judging by the drink specials, that it was their grand opening weekend, and tonight was their first official night open. Opening on a Thursday meant pandering to the university crowd for sure (whose pub nights usually took place on Thursdays), but this place was pretty full with an older, gruffier clientele that were seated at the bar and congregated in small groups around the open space in the centre of the room, away from the few booths against the wall. She wondered if they marketed the place wrongly, or if they just wanted to fill the place so they could say they had a successful opening.

It was a bit loud, but she, Jason, and William ate their late dinner in relative peace. They spoke about the game only for a little bit before they moved on to other topics, making it abundantly clear to Aberdeen that they didn’t want to discuss hockey at all. The food was fine, and so, too, were the beers William and Jason had, but Aberdeen’s Long Island Iced Tea had way too much rum in it so she couldn’t finish.

By the time they finished, it was almost midnight and Aberdeen was starting to feel her fatigue. They were told to pay at the bar, so they gathered their jackets. Aberdeen insisted on paying for her meal, ever going so far as to run up to the bar herself, inching between some patrons in order to pay, before William or Jason could even get out of the booth. William, however, was right behind her, ready to Jason’s meal on his card.

“H—Hey! Hey! Look what we have here! Y-You’re Wiiiilliam Nylander,” a guy, older and very clearly inebriated, slurred out as he laid his eyes on them.

“That’s me,” William gave a tight-lipped smile, standing just slight behind Aberdeen, waiting his turn to pay.

The drunk guy focused his attention on Jason now. “You. Spezza.”

“Yup.”

He turned back towards William, shaking his head. “Teams like this can’t win the Cup. Esp-p-ecially not with this guy around.”

That caught Aberdeen’s attention. She furrowed her brows as the friend of the guy, obviously just as drunk, nodded his head in agreement. “Don’t have the heart like Dougie or Wendel. All a bunch of pussies now. Especially you.”

Aberdeen pulled her card out of the reader dramatically, turning her body so she could face them head on. “What the hell is your problem? There’s no need to be rude,” she said, her voice loud and firm.

“Aberdeen, stop it,” William said loud enough for her to hear.

“Y-Y-Yyyyou shoulda just sssigned the contract, man,” the drunk man grumbled out.

Aberdeen tried again, ignoring William’s plea. “Sir, this isn’t the time or place,” she intervened, but William’s hands went straight to her waist to move her out of his way so she wasn’t standing in between them anymore.

Suddenly, it was William closer to the drunk man that Aberdeen. The drunk guy apparently didn’t like that very much. “You’re damn – you’re damn selfish! Ssssselfish and greedyyyy,” the man continued to slur drunkenly. “Seeeelfish, no good—”

“Sir—” Aberdeen showed up beside William, refusing to stand behind him.

“I oughta hurt you like you hurt the fffranchise.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened. That was a threat if she ever heard one, and even though he was drunk, Aberdeen didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Okay sir,” she chastised. “You need to stop overreacting. We’re just here trying to pay for our meal. This is no time to be a dick.”

“You know what? Let’s just pay at the other end of the bar,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. He even started to herd William and Aberdeen away from the drunk man and down the opposite end of the bar. “You have fun with whatever whiskey you’re drinking,” he gave one last look to the man before walking away himself.

“Fuckin’ pussy!” the friend yelled loudly at William, already half way down the bar now.

Aberdeen looked back. William had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her through the crowd so she’d get to the other side with him. She watched as one of them slammed his glass down on the bar dramatically. “Willy—”

“Ignore them, Aberdeen.”

“Yeeeeeah, fuckin’ pussy! Fuckin’ lowlife! Worst Leaf on the team! Shoulda traded you back to Sweden, ya Swedish piece of shit!”

The men continued to yell obscenities and taunt William as they stood at the other end of the bar. Aberdeen stared at William as he stuck his credit card into the machine, quickly punching in his pin. “Does that happen often?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Aberdeen, don’t,” he shook his head, refusing to answer her as he pulled his card out of the machine and stuffed it back into his wallet. It was as if he didn’t want her to know; as if he wanted to protect her from learning just how awful some “fans” could be – at least to him.

“Did you pay?” Jason showed up beside them. William nodded. “Alright, then let’s get the hell out of here,” he ordered, herding them again to lead them out.

It all happened so fast that Aberdeen didn’t really know exactly that – what happened. All she knew was that she heard the guy yell from down the bar. Then she heard the breaking of glass (commonplace in bars, really) and someone else yell “Put it down!” as she, Jason, and William continued towards the door. Then another voice screamed “Watch out!” and she, Jason, and William turned their heads to look behind them.

Then it hit her.

Literally.

A glass had been thrown – obviously by one of the drunk men who had been harassing them – intended for William, but it hit Aberdeen right on the forehead instead. She staggered backwards but didn’t fall. As she brought her hand up to assess the damage, she could almost immediately feel blood dripping down the side of her eye.

“Aberdeen!” Jason screamed.

William looked over and saw the blood on Aberdeen’s hand and it dripping down the side of her face. His eyes filled with anger. Jason, who was still looking at Aberdeen, saw the look she was giving William. He whipped his head towards William, who appeared ready to murder everybody in the room. “Will—William—” Jason tried to get his attention, but to no avail.

“Ohmygodareoyouokaaaaay?!” voices began to ask as they huddled around Aberdeen, William, and Jason worriedly, forming a protective circle around them. There were so many people, so concerned and so loud asking if she was okay that Aberdeen couldn’t even respond – she was too overwhelmed and too confused to even comprehend what was going on.

That’s when the two men ran out. When most of the people in the bar were distracted trying to see if Aberdeen was okay, the men had the wherewithal to completely book it out of the bar with nobody stopping them. It was only William who noticed, screaming out a loud “HEY!” to try and get somebody’s attention to stop them, but nobody moved enough for him to get out of the scrum around Aberdeen to chase him. William focused his attention back on Aberdeen even though he could feel his cheeks flush red with anger and tears forming in his eyes. She was still holding the area above her eyebrow cautiously as the bartender waved her over. Jason and William led her towards the bar, making sure she didn’t step on any of the shattered glass that now littered the floor. The bartender was already opening the first aid kit. William heard Jason tell everyone “It’s fine, it’s fine, we don’t need your help, it’s alright, we’ll handle it, we’ll handle it.”

Aberdeen was offered a bar stool to sit on, but she turned it down. She didn’t want to be on display for everyone to see; she was already embarrassed enough as is. “You wanna go into a washroom?” the bartender asked, and Aberdeen nodded her head. He led them to the wheelchair bathroom, since there would be space for all of them, and ushered them in. “The emergency rooms are just up the street. They’ll do stitches.”

William glared at the bartender. “Aren’t you even gonna call a paramedic or something? What about the cops?” he demanded, his voice shaking from the anger he was still feeling. “Can we look at security cameras to get a face?”

“Bro, we don’t want cops or paramedics here opening night. That would kill us,” the bartender said. William couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We don’t have cameras installed yet, either. Just clean it up and take it to emerge. It’s, like, two blocks north.”

William felt like punching the bartender square in the jaw. And he would have, too, for being so insensitive about it, if it wasn’t for Jason opening the first aid box loudly against the counter. Jason, for his part, glared at the bartender too. “You can leave now,” he growled, focusing his attention back on finding what he needed within the kit. “Useless piece of shit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Aberdeen sat on the toilet, trying to collect her thoughts and emotions. She’d gotten hit with a fucking flying glass in the middle of a bar. A glass seemingly intended for Willy, thrown by a drunk guy, but it had hit her. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She was sure her hand was covered in blood at this point; she didn’t even want to know what her face looked like. “Did I get busted open?” she asked, even though she was well aware of the answer. She needed someone else to confirm it so this all felt real and not like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” Jason said softly. “Listen, if that dipshit isn’t gonna call the cops or paramedics, I want to clean it before we go to the walk-in. Your face has a lot of blood on it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head slightly. There was nothing else she could do, really. It wasn’t like she was going to reject any medical attention, from Jason or otherwise. “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked.

“Of course it’ll hurt, but I don’t want any of the blood to crust and dry,” he said.

“Am I gonna need stitches? I’ve never gotten stitches before.”

“Move your hand a bit and let me see,” Jason said. She moved her hand the slightest bit, too scared to move it anymore out of fear that blood would gush out like some Halloween decoration, and Jason looked up close. “Yeah, probably,” he deadpanned. William winced at the thought.

“Oh, Jesus. Is it gonna scar?”

“No. Not deep enough to scar. At least not to me,” he said. She trusted him, if only because he was a father of four and had been around the block a few times. He cleaned her face as much as he could of the blood that had streamed down. She watched as he got some alcohol and put it onto a pad, prepped a sterile gauze, and whatever else he needed. Now, are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess so,” Aberdeen braced herself. She took her hand off the injury, relieved that no blood gushed onto Jason’s shirt. “On three, okay?” she asked. Jason nodded his head. She began to count. “One…two—”

She let out a guttural scream as Jason put the rubbing alcohol on her early so she wouldn’t wince away. It fucking stung. The sound that escaped her made Will’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He never wanted to hear it again. When he looked over, she was writhing on the toilet seat. Even Jason’s face was pained at her screams, but he was doing what he needed to do. After doing as much as he could, he took one last look at it before putting the sterile gauze on it, grabbing Aberdeen’s hand to hold it against the cut.

“You ready to go to emerge?” Jason asked.

Tears had streamed down her face at this point. She didn’t have a good tolerance for pain. She nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

***

It was just past two in the morning before an emergency room doctor saw Aberdeen. Jason had called Jen to let her know what happened and let her know that he was going to be extra late, and William…well, William was silent. He was still red with rage as they sat in the emergency room, with Jason and Aberdeen making conversation, but he was silent. Truthfully, all Aberdeen wanted to do was hug him, hold his hand, and nestle into him, but she couldn’t. It would have made things a hundred times better, but Jason being there meant that it was impossible. She noticed William’s silence from the moment they were in the washroom at the awful place and Jason had cleaned the wound. She was hoping that he wasn’t blaming himself.

“So, Miss Bloom, what happened here?” Dr. Behari asked as she sat on the gurney, Jason and William standing near her with their arms crossed.

“Some guy at a bar threw a glass and it hit me,” Aberdeen explained simply. “I think I’m going to need stitches.”

The doctor nodded, then looked towards Jason and William. “And you’re her bodyguards?” he joked.

Jason smiled, but William didn’t. “Friends,” Jason said. “I cleaned it up a bit with rubbing alcohol at the bar, doctor. I – It was the only thing I could think to do.”

The doctor nodded, stepping closer towards Aberdeen. “Let me take a look, Miss Bloom, and I can clean it and see if you need stitches.” Aberdeen took her hand and the gauze off the cut and the doctor put on his gloves. “Aallllllright…” he mumbled as he checked it, Aberdeen wincing in pain slightly as he pressed down on it. “You’ve got no residual glass in it, which is great. All we have to do is clean it up and give you some stitches.”

The thought of stitches made Aberdeen a bit woozy. She tried not to think about what they’d have to do. “Is it a deep cut? Like is it gonna scar?” she asked.

“Not a deep cut at all,” the doctor shook his head. “I’m only putting it one layer of stitches. You’ll probably have the slightest scar once it’s all healed but it’s easily covered with makeup, and due to placement, it won’t be too noticeable.” Suddenly, the curtain that blocked off the room opened, and some supplies and medical equipment were ushered in. Jason and William looked to see everything that Dr. Behari would need laid out on the tray. “Ah! Here we go. Have you ever received stitches before, Miss Bloom?”

“No sir.”

“Think of it as me putting this beautiful masterpiece of a face back together,” he joked, causing Aberdeen and Jason to laugh. William still wasn’t laughing, and Jason took notice.

“You’re great, Doctor Behari,” Aberdeen giggled. “I’m gonna get a scar like a real hockey player now.”

“Ahhhhh, so you guys are hockey players, huh?” he gestured towards Jason and William. “I’ve stitched up a bad hockey injury once or twice in my day.”

Dr. Behari continued with what he needed to do, cleaning up the wound and making sure everything was well and prepped for the stitches. The second he picked up the needle filled with lidocaine though, to numb the area so Aberdeen wouldn’t feel the stitches as much, William became more visibly upset. For the last two hours he looked like he was about to cry, and now he just looked extremely pained, distressed at the thought of what Aberdeen had to go through.

It took Jason intervening for William to stop thinking over and over about when the glass met Aberdeen’s head; the look in her eyes and the blood on her face as she tried to stop the bleeding with her hand. “Will, can you breathe for me?” he mumbled, Aberdeen and Dr. Behari too deep in a conversation to hear them.

William started shaking his head. “He needs to be arrested. He needs to be charged with assault. We need to find him,” his voice was still trembling.

“Will, we’re not gonna find him. He ran off,” Jason tried to reason with him. “There aren’t even any cameras we can check – the manager said. We just have to let it go.”

“No. That’s not good enough,” William was persistent. “We need to—”

“Listen to me,” Jason said in a low voice, grabbing William’s forearm and turning him away from Aberdeen and the doctor. They stood right in between the hallway and the curtain sectioning off the room. “I understand this is personal for you because it’s Aberdeen, but you need to be level-headed right now, because as much as the doctor is making her laugh, she’s gonna see the stitches and probably get scared. And she’s going to be looking at you to help calm her down and tell her it will be alright.”

William stopped breathing during the first part of Jason’s sentence. He furrowed his brows, trying to brush it off, and brush off what Jason was implying. “I don’t know what you mean about this being personal for me—”

“Will, come on,” Jason interrupted him. “I’m too old to be fucked with. We all see the way that you look at her and we know you have the biggest crush imaginable on her. It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

“H—How do I look at her?”

“She’s the only person you ever see, Will,” Jason deadpanned. “But…beyond that. You have to remember Brendan’s gonna be asking questions tomorrow at the office. I’ll handle a majority of that but he’s going to want the story from you too and you better be on your best behaviour or else he’ll figure out your little crush and Aberdeen will be fucked. Do you understand?”

William couldn’t look Jason in the eye anymore. He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, knowing that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I think he already knows…” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I think…Brendan already knows about the crush. At the Christmas party out on the ice I guess he caught me looking and he told me she can’t do anything with me until she leaves, and more importantly, I can’t do anything with her.”

Jason looked like he’d seen a ghost. “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you doing anything with her?”

Here it was. William’s first opportunity to lie outright to a teammate, a friend, a colleague, a guy that he looked up to immensely. Aberdeen had had to do it with Siena, now he’d have to do it with Jason. His girlfriend was a mere fifteen feet away and he had to deny that anything was going on. “What?! Of course not!” he said angrily.

“William I swear to fucking God—"

“Nothing is happening,” he stressed. “Jesus, Jason. How awful do you think I am? I wouldn’t do something like that to her.”

“Don’t fuck with me Willy. She’s got too bright a future for you to—”

“I know that,” William stressed. “I. Know. That. That’s why nothing has happened. That’s why it’s stayed a crush.”

“You promise me right here, right now, in the middle of this hospital while she’s getting stitches, that there’s nothing going on between you two, or so help me God, Willy—”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” William said bluntly. He saw Jason’s face relax slightly, meaning that he was buying it. “I’ve got my crush and that’s it. But there’s nothing going on between us. Nothing.”

“Woohoo! Boys!” Dr. Behari called out, interrupting their conversation. “Miss Bloom wants to hold one of your big strong hands just in case she feels anything. Any takers?”

Jason raised his eyebrows at William and gave him a look. William gave Jason one last look before walked over, stood next to Aberdeen, and offered his hand. She grabbed it without hesitation.

Jason watched.

***

February 22nd, 2020

“What in God’s name happened to your eye?” Brendan demanded as he got his first look at Aberdeen Saturday morning. In the town car, Lou had already commented on it. Now Brendan got to see it, bright and early in the morning before heading towards the office.

“It’s a long story,” Aberdeen mumbled.

“Well we’ve got a long drive to the office.”

She sighed. She recounted the events of the previous night to Brendan, from Jason and William agreeing to stay back with her, to them going to dinner, to the rude men, to the bottle throwing. Brendan looked more and more horrified as time went on, and especially angry when she got to the part with the rude men. They were essentially targeting one of his players, one of his star players, with assault; instead, that assault ended up hurting his executive assistant. And when she mentioned the no cameras and the clueless bartender, he got really angry, because there was nothing he could do either.

“And so, here we are,” Aberdeen finished. “I’m three days out from my 22nd birthday and one week out from my party and I have a giant scar on my face.”

Brendan could tell by her tone that she wasn’t necessarily upset about it, per se, but that she was more so a bit self-conscious about how it looked. “It’s not that big,” he said, trying to not make it a big deal. “The stitches will be out soon anyway. You don’t want to see some of the scars I’ve gotten. I mean…” he trailed off, pointing to the one on his top lip and the one on his chin, “yours won’t look as bad as these. Won’t end up as bad as these either.”

“You don’t think so?”

Brendan shook his head. “No chance. It’s only three stitches. Did you tell your parents?”

“Yeah, we FaceTimed so I could show them. They don’t want me in bars past sundown now,” she giggled slightly. “I’m going to have to go to my doctor before we leave for Tampa Bay to see if they can get taken out though. By then it will have been four days. The emergency room doctor said it should be okay by then.”

“I’ll call Noah and have him take a look at it once we get to the arena,” he said, referring to Dr. Noah Forman, the team’s head physician. “I’ll call Jason and Will in, too. To let me know what happened.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. It was only logical to talk to them about it to. William had been the one targeted, after all. “Are you excited for tonight?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Brendan shrugged. “Last time we faced Carolina it was an…interesting game,” he said. “How much more interesting can it get?”

***

Aberdeen was absolutely horrified. Just absolutely fucking horrified at what was transpiring in front of her very eyes. A complete and utter collapse. Something that couldn’t be real. Something she didn’t want to be real. Something that was affecting her more than she ever thought hockey would. If Aberdeen thought that Penguins game on Tuesday was bad, this was a hundred times worse. A thousand. A million. A billion times worse.

The Leafs were losing to the Hurricanes. 6-3. And who was in net for the Carolina Hurricanes? Their emergency backup goalie, who was, somehow, also the Toronto Marlies’ Zamboni driver. Yes. The Toronto Maple Leafs were losing to a Zamboni driver. Their own Zamboni driver.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Brendan had already left the box. He’d asked her not to follow him. That made her incredibly nervous, because usually when he was upset or disappointed about games, she was still following him like a little puppy. That wasn’t the case now; he clearly wanted to be alone and alone he would be, wherever he happened to be.

When the final buzzer rang, Aberdeen felt her heart rate go up even more, because it now meant that she did have to go find him. She didn’t want to be in the locker room right now. The team needed to be with their coach, and she didn’t exactly want to hear whatever was going to go down in there. She wanted to remain willfully ignorant. So instead, she began walking towards the offices, where a part of her knew Brendan would be.

She was quiet as she walked down the hallway and towards her desk. She saw Brendan’s door almost closed, and knew he was inside his office. She gathered her things, grabbed her jacket, and took a deep breath.

She knocked lightly on his office door. “Come in,” she heard him say absent-mindedly.

She pushed the door open slowly. When she revealed herself in the doorway, Brendan’s eyebrows rose slightly. He was surprised she’d come and find him. But he didn’t want her to know that. Most other personal assistants he’d had usually let him be when he did something like this. But Aberdeen was different. “Oh, there you are,” he said, his voice low as he cleared his throat. There were a few moments of silence as he thought of something to say. “We need to go over the, uh…the proofs for the St. Pats jerseys,” he held out his hand.

Aberdeen was nervous. He was a bit too calm for her liking, considering what had just happened. She knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it exactly, but still. “Okay. Um, yeah, sure. I have it right here,” she said as she began digging through her bag with all the files in it. There were so many to sort through, and she knew she was taking a while.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me,” Brendan said.

She pulled the proofs out of her bag and handed them to him. He took them, a bit dramatically she thought, and opened them up. “Okay, so…they’re done. They can be sent,” he said dismissively, putting his signature at the bottom of every page of proofs.

Aberdeen was shocked, slightly. There was so much back and forth on them because they had to be perfect and now he’d just signed off on them? “They…they’re done? So I don’t need to bring them back to the artist and fetch them back tomorrow?” she began to pull out her iPad so she could change her schedule.

“Well, if you think the team is worthy of even wearing these jerseys and want to convince me to not just scrap the whole damn idea…then yes, fetch away. You’re very fetching, so go fetch,” he grumbled out with a resolute emotion of nothingness in his voice.

Aberdeen stopped her movements. Okay, so he was affected by what had just happened. And he was going to let it all out now, in front of her, with no-one else around. No Kyle. No Sheldon. No team. Nobody but her. As she continued to stare at him, he couldn’t look her in the eye; he was looking everywhere in his office but her, even though she stood right across his desk from him. “You’ll need to contact PR, um…Leslie, to see what she can do to minimize the press on all this,” he continued, pursing his lips together, looking out into a void. “Another humiliating loss splashed across the Toronto Sun. I can just imagine what they’re going to write about us. The Toronto Maple Leafs lose to a Zamboni driver who works for them. The most embarrassing loss yet, and it’s under my watch. Every newspaper in this city should cut me a check for all the papers I sell for them.” He shook his head, pausing for a few moments to collect himself, and finally looked at Aberdeen. “Anyway, I don’t…I don’t really care what anybody writes about me. But the team. I just…the team. It’s just another disappointment…another let down. Another bad game. Horrible game.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say. She knew this was Brendan’s version of spilling his guts out to her. This loss had taken its toll on him – was going to take its toll on everyone in the organization, and he was the guy heading the entire operation. It all fell on his shoulders. And Kyle’s. But he was the overseer of it all. He put the brunt of the blame on himself – not on the players or the general manager. “Anyway, the point is…the point is…” he cleared his throat. Aberdeen could see him visually recollect himself. “The point is, we really need to get these proofs sent first thing tomorrow morning, because I’d like to see the jerseys before they get sent to the players.”

It was weird to Aberdeen how he could just switch like that – from experiencing the lowest of the low to going back to normal again. She wondered if it was a hockey thing, because Willy did it too – he would be upset after losses, especially bad ones, but it would quickly become dirt off his shoulder. She held on to her emotions and feelings much longer than them. “I’m so sorry, Brendan,” she offered. She knew there was nothing else she could say to him. “If you want me to cancel your morning tomorrow, I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we do that?” he asked.

Aberdeen offered a tight-lipped smile. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

Brendan nodded quickly. “Your job.”

***

Aberdeen called Siena the moment she was out of the office and walking home. She’d been okayed to go home by Brendan. She’d texted Will, but he wasn’t answering, so God knows what was going on in the locker room right now. She didn’t want to stay at Scotiabank Arena for that very reason. She just knew it was too much for her to handle.

She knew it was too much because she was already crying. Silent tears, but tears nonetheless. She prayed to God that Siena picked up.

“Hey,” Aberdeen finally heard her voice. “What’s up?”

“Siena…” Aberdeen’s voice was shaky. “Siena did you watch the game?”

“No, why? What’s wrong?”

Aberdeen sniffled. “I never thought I’d be crying about sports but here I am crying about the Leafs!” she blubbered out.

“Why? What happened?”

“We just had the most God awful game,” Aberdeen huffed out. “We lost to our own Zamboni driver.”

There was a pause on Siena’s end. “Aberdeen, are you drunk?”

“NO!!!” she exclaimed. “Go check the highlights or whatever. Go turn on TSN. It was humiliating. We’re going to get absolutely roasted. It’s going to be so bad and—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen you need to calm down,” Siena urged on the other end of the phone. “It’s not your fault, Aberdeen. And it’s not your problem. Why are you so upset about it? It’s not like you’re a part of the team.”

Aberdeen felt a punch to her heart at Siena’s words. But she was. Everyone had told her that she was – Brendan, Kyle, the guys, everyone – and she had no reason to think otherwise. It was hammered into her since the beginning. For all intents and purposes, she was a member of the team, which is why it hurt her so badly. Siena didn’t understand that. Siena didn’t understand how all the traveling together made them closer; how all the guys looked out for her – not in a patronizing way, just…in their own way – like they were her older brothers, especially after what happened at Christmas; how the word family was tossed around so often that Aberdeen really felt that this was a family in its own way, with a bunch of moving parts, often dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless. Siena didn’t understand any of it. “Yes I am,” Aberdeen said meekly, offering nothing. She couldn’t put into words what she’d just thought, and even if she could, Siena, with all her smarts, wouldn’t understand them. “I am a part of the team.”

“Just sleep on it, alright? I’m sure everybody is going to forget about it by tomorrow morning,” Siena offered, showing truly just how much she didn’t understand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

At that exact moment, a car pulled up on the curb alongside Aberdeen. When she looked over, she saw William in the driver’s seat. He was already looking at her. “Okay, bye,” she ended the call abruptly, stuffing her phone into her coat pocket before approaching and opening the door, slipping into the passenger’s seat easily.

When Aberdeen looked over at William, he immediately noticed her red eyes. His heart tightened in his chest. “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

“How could you not be?” she asked back.

He leaned over the centre console to kiss her. “Please stop, minskatt. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“I don’t know what to feel – what to do – I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better about this,” she lamented.

“Shhhh shhh shhh,” William kissed her again, bringing his of his hands up to cup her face. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“Don’t I?”

William shook his head slightly. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked, as if that was enough. As if that’s all he needed, when really, Aberdeen knew he’d need so much more. That she would need so much more. “D’you want to come back to my place?”

Aberdeen looked William in the eye. He wasn’t asking politely. He was begging. She nodded. “Okay.”

***

Aberdeen was getting scared at how good she was getting at lying. She’d made up a stupid story about needing to stay late at the arena again for the trade deadline so Kasha would go to bed and not wait up for her. Kasha bought it. Aberdeen didn’t even know if she was staying at William’s tonight or if she’d walk into her apartment at three o’clock in the morning again, for the second time in two days.

(As if William would bring her to his apartment and then tell her to leave in the middle of the night.)

He took her to a tall, glass condo building, only about a ten minute walk from hers but closer to the south core that made him possible to practically walk to all the games if he wanted to. He held her hand firmly in his once they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage, getting on the elevator. William pushed the button for one of the top floors. Of course he’d have a penthouse.

Aberdeen was still too caught up in her own emotions to realize how big this was – every other encounter had been at her place, and now she was finally seeing his space. When he opened the door, she was pleasantly surprised at what she was greeted with. She knew it was rented, and so she half expected it to be kind of dull with no personality, but that wasn’t the case. There were touches of William everywhere in the apartment – the slight, boyish messiness just adding to it. Expensive shoes scattered at the entryway. A few plants that weren’t dead, so she figured they were fake. A giant, comfy looking couch in the main area with a massive TV that was hooked up to every gaming console known to man. And pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures everywhere. All of his family.

She could tell that there was a spare bedroom on one side of the apartment, and she saw a door leading to the master. William put his keys in the bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, watching her as she looked around his apartment. “So what do you think?” he asked.

“Do you miss your family on nights like this? When it’s a really bad game and really embarrassing?” Aberdeen asked, staring at a picture he had of him and him sisters together, holding them all in a giant bear hug as their smiles stretched from ear to ear.

The question caught him completely off guard. “Of course I do. I miss them all the time,” he said.

“What do you do on nights like tonight?”

“I sit on my couch and watch TV until I’m not thinking about it anymore,” William admitted. “Lately I’ve really been meaning to do it with my girlfriend.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. Even after a night like tonight, he was still flirting with her. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

They went into his bedroom – bed messy, but huge; closet overflowing, but orderly; giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the other skyscrapers around them – and she changed into a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt that looked Supreme-branded but instead said ‘spaghetti’. It smelled like him, thoroughly, and the second she put it on she felt like she was being hugged, even though it was about six sizes too big. They changed together, and when they were done, they made their way back to the living room and William turned on the TV, pulling her towards the big couch. He made her sit down first before kneeling down between her legs, resting his head on her stomach just beneath her breasts before wrapping his arms around her.

It was calm. It was nice. It was mindless. William was mindless as he laid there, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend in his clothes, watching TV but not really watching TV. Aberdeen was mindless as she laid there, running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly, watching TV but not really watching TV. It was a while before Aberdeen decided to speak again. “You know, it’s not healthy to not talk about it,” she said.

She felt William sigh. “You know I’m not good with words, minskatt.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie. You’re great with words,” she said.

“No I’m not.”

“William, every author in the English language wishes they came up with the words, ‘I think about you when I’m not even thinking’, including me,” she countered.

William couldn’t help but smile. “Those words are only for you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “but can you please give me some other words so I know that you’re okay? Because I’m worried.”

The fact that he was making her worried made him compelled to talk. That was the last thing he wanted. “I just…I just know that we’re never going to hear the end of it. And I hate that. I hate that it’s gonna be the big joke now. Because hockey isn’t a joke to me. Neither is the Leafs.” He paused and Aberdeen was silent, and he knew that silence was urging him to continue. “It happened because…it happened because they rallied around their goalie. They protected him. They had his back. And we didn’t. We just…we didn’t. And I hate it when we do that. Because I have…I have every guy in that locker room’s back. I do. But sometimes it just…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes it just doesn’t work out how I want it to.”

Aberdeen had continued to run her fingers through his hair. She nodded at the end of his speech. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what it feels like, because I don’t,” she said. “I haven’t been a fan of hockey and I don’t understand it like you do but I know how much a game like this can affect the group, especially with the media in this city. But I got emotional about it because I know how much it affects you. Even if you won’t tell me about it.”

“I don’t mean to not tell you,” William said. “I just…” he paused again, thinking if he should even say anything. “It’s that besides my dad and brother, nobody’s ever really…you know, listened. So I just stopped talking.”

Aberdeen’s heart broke. At that point, she stopped running her fingers through his hair and forced him to sit up, even though her legs were still wrapped around him, so she could look him in the eye. She thought about Mike Babcock and what he’d done to Will. She thought about all the other hockey coaches he had and wondered if they were just as bad. “Willy…” she said softly, running her thumb along his jawline and lips. “Willy, I want you to talk to me more. About hockey. About your family. About your feelings. About everything. Please. Please.”

William nodded. He understood completely what she was asking him to do, and he was going to make a concerted effort to do so, because he loved her. He loved her so much and he didn’t want to see her worrying about him. “I will, minskatt. I will, for you,” he said, kissing her quickly. He shifted them so she was straddling his body. “I just have to get used to somebody listening.”

“Willy, I’m always going to listen to you. Don’t forget that, okay?” she asked, cradling his face in her hands.

He nodded, quickly kissing her again. The words were coming now, and he couldn’t stop them. Aberdeen had that power over him. “What happened the other night at the bar was my fault,” he said.

“What?” Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head dramatically. “Willy, that was not your fault at all—”

“Yes it was—”

“No it wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes it was,” he said sternly. “And I couldn’t take it. I was so mad, minskatt. I was shaking. I wasn’t able to stop it or to protect you or—”

“Willy—Willy, stop. Willy, it wasn’t your fault at all,” she repeated. “Those stupid guys were drunk.”

“But they were aiming for me. They hated me. I wish that glass would’ve hit me instead,” he said, bringing his hand up to her scar and touching it lightly.

“Don’t you dare say something like that. It was a freak accident, Willy. There was nothing either of us could do,” she said, hoping he would soon realize it.

William paused for a moment. “You’d talk to me too, right? Like you want me to talk to you?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded her head confidently. “Were you scared that night?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “Just a little bit. But you were there. And Jason. And when I realized that, I wasn’t so scared anymore. I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.”

William nodded. “Are you listening?”

“Yes…”

“I love you.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I love you too.”

They began kissing. Lightly, at first, and then Aberdeen couldn’t help but stick her tongue down his throat, and William couldn’t help but squeeze at the flesh of her thighs. As they made out like teenagers on his couch, Aberdeen placed her hands over his and guided them to her ass.

William giggled slightly into the kiss. “Aberdeen…” he said in a playfully accusing tone.

“I only want to remember feeling your hands there instead,” she mumbled against his lips.

William froze. Suddenly and all at once, her words hit him like shards of glass, cutting him to his very core. “I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.” Ethan. She still thought about what happened with Ethan – she still thought about it and it affected her and it made her scared, something she hadn’t admitted to before. William felt like killing Ethan all over again right then and there, with Aberdeen sitting on his lap. What affected her wasn’t a physical wound; what affected her was something much deeper.

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand cradling her chin, thumb gliding over her lips softly as she’d done to him earlier. “Nobody is going to do that to you again, okay? Not while I’m here.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She believed him completely.

“I mean it, Aberdeen,” he pressed.

“I know.”

“If I ever saw him on the street, I’d fucking kill him for what he did to you. For how he made you feel. And I want you to know that, like…you’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. He was a pig who couldn’t see that but I can,” William said.

Aberdeen almost burst out into tears at his words. You’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. She could have cried right then and there. But instead, she nodded her head before kissing William again, even more eager this time, wanting to show him just how much she appreciated him, just how much she believed him, just how much she loved him.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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Understanding Qanon

Both left and right politics have seen surges of conspiratorial thinking, but without question the most organized and politically salient conspiracy theory at the moment is Qanon. In The Atlantic, Adrienne LaFrance dives deep into Q and its context.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/06/qanon-nothing-can-stop-what-is-coming/610567/

As comprehensive as LaFrance's account is, there's one blank spot: why is belief in conspiracies is surging in the first place?

The main explanation - a subtext running through LaFrance's excellent piece - is that algorithmic persuasion is to blame.

That is, the systems that Big Tech built to convince us to buy refrigerators and acne cream are now being hijacked to convince us that pizza parlors are harboring pedophile rings in their (non-existent) basements. I am very skeptical of this account.

First, because the best evidence we have for Big Tech's power to perform these persuasive miracles comes from Big Tech's own marketing puffery, what they tell potential advertisers to justify their rate-cards, and what they tell investors to buoy their share prices.

Neither the source nor the claim is particularly credible. If there's one thing we know, it's hard to convince people of stuff. That, in fact, is the hard problem of advertising, religion, politics, art, and social change. No one has systematized it in an enduring way.

What Big Tech does VERY well, however, is find people. It can find people who are thinking of buying a fridge (a diffuse, hard-to-locate cohort) by targeting people who've shopped for fridges or kitchens, or perused reviews. This isn't a persuasive miracle, it's just spying.

Likewise, Big Tech can help people with fringe ideas locate each other. This is true irrespective of how much you like those fringe ideas: it doesn't matter if the idea is #BlackLivesMatter and gender is a spectrum or white nationalism and the Earth is flat.

I believe what we call "persuasion" is primarily "targeting." If the major barrier to the spread of your message is that you can't find the people who would be receptive to it, Big Tech's people-finding systems can supercharge your ideas.

This works especially well for ideas that invite social disapprobation if you publicly embrace them - which is why the internet is such a godsend for queer kids who fear discussing their sexuality with intolerant friends or parents.

It also works great for conspiracies.

Which raises a different question: why is it so easy to find people who want to believe in conspiracies. My answer: because so many of the things that have traumatized so many people ARE conspiracies.

The opioid epidemic was a conspiracy between rich families like the Sacklers and regulators who rotate in and out of industry. The 737 crisis was caused by Boeing's conspiracy to cut corners and aviation regulators' conspiracy to allow aerospace to regulate itself.

Senators conspire to liquidate their positions ahead of coronavirus lockdown, well-heeled multinationals conspire to get 94.5% of the "small business" PPP fund, Big Tech conspires to fix wages with illegal collusion while fast food franchises do the same with noncompetes.

In a world of constant real conspiracy scandals that destroy lives and the planet, conspiracy theories take on real explanatory power. This is beautifully discussed in Anna Merlan's 2019 book, "Republic of Lies."

https://boingboing.net/2019/09/21/from-opioids-to-antivax.html

All of this is the context for Qanon. Add to that the fact that Q is also a literal industry whose superstars make fortunes - and not necessarily cynically, because, after all, what better proof could you ask for of the truth of Q than the fact that it's making you rich?

Another consequence of making it easier to find people is that groups can coalesce around loosely defined principles. Pre-internet, the high cost of group-forming meant that you would be wasting a lot of effort by grouping with people who disagreed with you on fundamentals.

Eventually, those disagreements would drive you apart and all your group-forming work would be wasted. But lower-cost group forming makes it easier to take risks on making common cause with people you disagree with.

People who criticized Occupy for the lack of a crisply defined program missed this point: by refusing to narrowly define its cause, Occupy could be a broad tent.

Q's gnomic utterances are perfectly suited to exploit this increased appetite for risk in group forming.

Q's nonsensical utterances become an oracle that different kinds of conspirators can project their own fears and aspirations onto, creating multiple, irreconcilable interpretations for these pronunciations.

And that very vagueness and imprecision allows Q followers to find post-facto interpretations that show that Q was right all along (a favorite pastime of mystics from Revelations to Nostradamus).

Q is both a rehash of historical conspiracy pathologies and utterly of this moment, then. It's a phildickian phenomenon, a conspiracy whose gospel reads like the cryptic notes I get from stalkers who are having terrible, paranoid hallucinations.

One of the milestones in my understanding of conspiracists was this outstanding interview with a leading Flat Earther by the Oh No Ross and Carrie podcast:

http://ohnopodcast.com/investigations/2018/7/20/ross-and-carrie-traverse-flat-earth-part-7-the-jeran-campanella-interview

He describes his satisfaction with Flat Earth as compared with other conspiracies.

By which he means that the community bonds and his ability to have high stature in it are satisfying and that makes it feel true.

These feelings, along with the trauma of real conspiracies, make conspiracism a powerful temptation. That should guide our thinking on Q.

Not the junk science of the nonreplicating, discredited "backfire effect" (which is a polestar for Facebook's approach to conspiracy despite its lack of rigor):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/14/everybody-poops/#backfire-effect

Meanwhile, if you want to get deeper into the bizarre mythology of Q, I highly recommend this "Qanon exit briefing."

https://violentmetaphors.com/2018/12/04/your-q-anon-exit-briefing/

#pluralistic

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criesinmultifandommess · 3 years ago

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DSMP Model AU

something different from what I usually post :)

I don't really know much about modelling and fashion, so apologies if some of this is wrong or I'm missing something

lotsa words under the cut, you've been warned <3

Dream wants to create a fashion show :D

there's Dream's company known as Smile, the L'Manberg company, and a few freelancers that caught Dream's eye

Smile: Dream, Sapnap, Punz, Bad, Ant, Sam, Skeppy, Callahan, Purpled

L'Manberg: Wilbur, Niki, Eret, Fundy, Jack, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo

Freelance: George, Hannah, Schlatt, Quackity, Foolish, Puffy, Ponk, Techno, Phil

spans about 4-6 months in planning

something something scandal about Dream hiring Eret, Niki, Karl, Ant, and Puffy for LGBTQ+ brownie points uhh yeah American media is an absolute shitshow anyways all of them defend and support Dream (some nicely, some not-so-nicely, some very passive-aggressively)

the show itself takes less than an hour to do; 75 thousand people attend, even more watch it live

after party gets wild. almost no one remembers what happened that night, but it was wild (the interns were sent home early, dw)

they all trade numbers at the end to keep in contact, as they should

just a lot of forced friendship, screams, and chaos, nothing new

Models

George: an up-and-coming model; has an Instagram account that almost that a lot of people follow but he rarely posts; freelance

Sapnap: Dream's first model and followed him into the fashion world; likes to credit himself for getting Dream to where he is now

Wilbur: is a model for fun; works as a freelance musician but also accidentally created the L'Manberg company so yeah

Niki: also a model for fun; works at a flower shop in her downtime; part of the L'Manberg company

Eret: has been modelling for a while; was freelance for a while before getting picked up by the L'Manberg company; Wil likes to threaten to kick them out because they were the first one to agree to model in Dream's show but it's all lighthearted

Fundy: modelling is alright but playing pranks on the other models/photographers and recording them is much better; doesn't play pranks on any hair/makeup artists anymore tho bc one artist got so fed up they switched his outfit with a maid one and posted pictures; he still gets a lil nervous when he's getting his makeup done; accidentally called Wilbur his dad once and no one lets him live it down; part of the L'Manberg company

Hannah: likes to wear eco-friendly clothing; went through a phase of weaving roses into her hair regardless of what she was wearing; she still does that but dialed it down to only one rose and color coordinates the rose with her outfit; freelance

Designers

Dream: head designer, obviously; Sapnap dared him to wear a paper plate with a smiley face on it at a show/interview but it backfired because Dream's popularity skyrocketed and he made it his brand; parents passed down their company to him

Punz: does not care about dressing himself but will judge others; part of Dream's company

Schlatt: close to the L'Manberg company, but isn't a part of them; flirts with just about anyone; has several hidden stashes of alcohol scattered around the set that no one has discovered yet

Quackity: yes, he still wears the beanie; in a constant rotation of make chaotic clothing, flirt with pretty people, be depressed over pretty people, get angry for being depressed. rinse, wash, repeat forever; very afraid of Techno because he took an unflattering photo of him and is scared of it being used as blackmail; freelance

Foolish: likes to use gold and green/emeralds. a lot. very inspired by Egyptian clothing; has a little totem charm for luck; freelance

Hair and Makeup artists

Puffy: tends to dote on the interns; hangs around Niki, Sam, and Foolish; has styled hair for both companies before

Karl: works under Mr. Beast but close friends with Quackity and Sapnap who begged Dream put in a good word for him

Photographers

Ponk: when not working, likes to flirt with Sam; always has a lemon in his pocket and won't tell anyone why; freelance

Techno: technically freelance, but works closely with the L'Manberg company; very close to Phil; used to be a designer and clashed with Dream a lot, but he found he liked photography more; this doesn't mean Dream and Techno don't bicker when they see each other, oh no, their conversation is filled with insults

Agents/Managers

Bad: used to work under Dream's parents before Dream took over; more like an assistant for Dream himself rather than a manager, what with all the things Dream asks him to do

Ant: agent for Dream's company

Phil: technically a freelance agent/manager, but works closely with the L'Manberg company; very close to Techno

Technicians

Sam: unofficial head technician; part of Dream's company

Skeppy: manages the camera footage: part of Dream's company

Callahan: doesn't say anything, which is why Dream likes him (jk); fixes problems quickly and silently tho; part of Dream's company

Jack: can normally be seen wearing headphones; somehow is the dad friend and chaotic friend at the same time; part of the L'Manberg company

Interns

Tommy: joined the L'Manberg company because he looks up to the members and their associates (but he won't tell them that)

Tubbo: joined the L'Manberg company to follow Tommy; jokingly starts a new company called Snowchester with Ranboo and a pig plush they named Michael

Ranboo: technically working under the L'Manberg company, but then again, Dream has also offered for Ranboo to work for him... but does he abandon them or give up on an opportunity hmm

Purpled: is he working for money? is he held against his will? who knows: seems to appear and disappear without a trace; intern for Dream's company

Excerpts

George Davidson, more widely known as GeorgeNotFound, is a handsome British model that's been taking the world by storm. A magazine once described him as "you're either in love with him or want to be him", and, quite frankly, it's true.

Clay Craft, also known as Dream. The charming CEO of his parents' company, Smile, and starting up his very own fashion show. Rumor has it that the show will not only feature his own employees, but will also include some showstopping names from L'Manberg, as well as some very talented freelancers.

Wilbur Soot, the leading model and creator of L'Manberg. Though his company may have been started on a whim, no one can say that L'Manberg is unsuccessful, as it quickly rose in popularity, much like the man himself.

Smile is one of the best fashion brands out there, if not the best. With their wide range of products and people, Smile makes sure that every customer leaves with a smile.

"L'manberg?" Dream chuckles. "What a stupid name. L'manchildberg is a much better fit." "At least our brand isn't just a smiley face one of my friends drew on a paper plate." Wil snarks back.

You know, when Schlatt first asked Wilbur to model for him all those years ago, neither knew that their popularity would pick up, Wil would open his own company, and they would catch the eye of Dream himself.

George didn't know what to expect when his agent told him that Dream was interested in having him in his show, but watching one of the most famous designers fall to the floor, dying of laughter over a deez nuts joke was nowhere near what he could've imagined.

Celeb News @/CelebNews L'Manberg technician Jack Manifold leaks that his company will be participating in Dream's fashion show! The question on everybody's mind is: who will be in it? Mack Janifold @/JackManifold NO NO NO I DIDNT LEAK SHIT @/JackManifold https://www.youtube.com/thislinkaintreallmao YOU IDIOT Jack Manifold @/JackManifold OKAY MAYBE I LEAKED SOMETHING Wilbur Soot @/WilburSoot GODDAMNIT JACK

Celeb News @/CelebNews Dream goes in depth about his vision for his show and drops a few names you might recognize! https://www.youtube.com/ihavenoideahowtwitterworks Dream @/designerDream Replying to @/ :)

Celeb News @/CelebNews Has one of the most famous designers cut his fame short? According to an anonymous source, Dream may have hired some of the people on his show for "representation" instead of talent. Technoblade @/Technoblade bruhhh Sapnap @/Sapnap and you know this how? Are you Dream? Didn't think so

Dream @/designerDream None of the people in my show have been chosen for "representation". All of them are very talented and amazing in their own right, and they are more than just their sexuality or their job. Karl Jacobs @/KarlJacobs Replying to @/ am i just a person who does makeup to you D: Antfrost @/Frosty_Ant if i say im straight will i be kicked out of the show Red Velvet @/Velvet_Cake @/Frosty_Ant we were never dating, we're just really close best friends :) Eret @/The_Eret can't believe I got into the famous Dream's fashion show because I like all genders! Puffy @/CapnPuffy lmao same! Niki @/nikinihachu lmao same!

#dream smp #dsmp #model au #au #alternate universe #yes im a writer but i can only write headcanons lmao #or little snippets #dream #modelling #designers #hair and makeup #photographers #this acc was supposed to be for hcs and aus #but i got caught up in lore n shit #whoops ig

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

Text

Conversations

Chapter 7

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, drinking, fluff!

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I know nothing about the lives of the Evans family and mean no harm. This is purely fiction and for fun. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! The tag list is now closed. Each chapter tends to get reblogged from me a few times, so if you’re following me, you can’t miss it.

*Italics are internal thoughts

Catch up with chapter 6

“I swear I’ve never seen it,” you said.

“How can that possibly be true? That makes zero sense. You did go to elementary school, right? I’m pretty sure I watched that a few times when we had a substitute in fifth and sixth grade,” Chris exclaimed.

“Har-har. Yes, I went to elementary school, but you are a few years older than me Mr. Evans. Must not have been as popular by the time I was in fifth or sixth grade.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “M’not that much older than you. You were born in the eighties and the Princess Bride is an essential piece of classic cinema.”

“The numbers still count,” you chided.

“We’re watching it. And you’re going to like it,” Chris sternly said.

“Well you better visit. Otherwise you won’t be able to enforce that...what are we calling this? A punishment?” you offered.

The two of you had been back on your daily phone calls for the last few weeks. It felt as though you had never stopped. A part of you did worry that he would revert back to the acquaintance like relationship the two of you had the last four months if he started dating someone again. The two of you really need to have that conversation to completely clear the air. You and Chris talked about everything, just not about Courtney and Ethan. It was as though the last four months didn’t exist. You hated the idea of bringing in any negative energy to your friendship, but avoiding it felt worse.

“Punishment? Sweetheart, you’re hurting my heart,” he sighed. “And I’m working on that. Almost done filming.”

You perked up instantly. Chris visiting sounded like a dream. In a friendship way, of course. Maybe both Evans brothers liked dance parties. You’d just have to wait and see.

“Ahuh. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you replied.

“I don’t see you coming to Boston,” he retorted.

“It’s not Fall, babe. I have specific instructions on when to visit this national treasure.”

“We’ll see.”

Screaming. That’s all you could hear and make yourself do. Sea World Orlando was hosting a media day to preview their new coaster Barracuda. This was not a fun family coaster like the Disney parks had, minus Everest of course. But this coaster was on a completely different playing field than Everest. It had a chest harness for goodness sake. A chest harness!

This is how I die.

You rarely covered actual ride openings, with the exception of Rise of the Resistance back in December. Okay, really you covered all ride openings at Disney. But in general, when it came to all other theme parks it was new lands, restaurants, hotels, that kind of thing. You especially didn’t cover coasters. This sort of thing was often saved for the local morning news channels. Sea World invited you out personally, and since you didn’t want to stop getting invites to their various food and music festivals, you accepted.

The ride started by being catapulted forward, then into a barrel roll, a loop, and to make master worse, the coaster rotated and it ended in a drop going backward.

You were given a card that allowed you two purchase five food and beverage offerings, but after riding Barracuda, you were feeling a bit green. Using one of your punches for a bottle of water, you quickly found some shade and sat down. You may have dry heaved. Thank goodness the spot you found was a little secluded.

Grabbing another chair, you put your feet up and tried to relax as best you could in a theme park nearing the end of May. Many schools were already on summer break, so the parks were definitely picking up on visitors. Fishing your phone out of your crossbody, you saw that you had a text from Brooks. He had officially left the Sentinel three months ago, but made it a game to text you random work-related questions almost daily.

Brooks: Can you run down to the first floor and grab that package their holding for me? I’m swamped.

Y/N: I’m on assignment smartass. How’s working from home?

Brooks: Glorious. I showered this morning and put my sweats back on.

Y/N: I’m sure that gets Jana’s engine roaring.

Brooks: I don’t believe you’ve seen me in sweats. I look damn fine.

Y/N: Gross

Brooks: 😈

Brooks: Lunch on Wednesday?

Y/N: Yes, but wear actual pants

Brooks: Maybe

During your lunch date with Brooks, which you somehow got suckered into buying, Brooks told you that he and Scott were kind of friends and had been texting since he left Orlando almost a month ago. The two of them had exchanged numbers when you and Jana were in the bathroom. Per Brooks, one of their favorite things to talk about was you. Of course. You’d have to think of some way to get them back.

It was suddenly Monday again, funny how that happens, and you were busy editing your latest article when your phone buzzed with a call on your desk. Seeing Chris’ name, you swiped to answer it.

“Hey babe.”

“Hi sweetheart. How was your weekend? Sorry I didn’t call,” he replied.

“I’m good. And no biggie. I had other boys to entertain me,” you said.

There were no boys. But he didn’t have to know that. You had to give it to him when you could.

“Boys, huh? Well, it’s a good thing you got a man right here.”

I walked right into that one.

If you could audibly swoon, you would have done it.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Hmm. Okay.”

“Listen, last minute trip this weekend. My mom is taking my niece and nephews to Disney World. Could you meet up with me?”

“Um…”

“I wasn’t even going to go, but I figured my ma could use the help and thought maybe we could hangout. If you wanted to, I mean,” he quickly added.

Of course, you wanted to see Chris. You’d be crazy not to. All this time talking on the phone, even when you weren’t talking, all you thought about was seeing him face to face. But goodness, do you feel queasy all of a sudden.

“Like, Friday or Saturday?” you asked.

“We get in Friday morning and leave Monday morning,” he said.

“Wouldn’t I just get in the way of your family time? I don’t want to intrude.”

“No way. I want to see you. Besides, I need a ride buddy. We have an uneven number,” Chris said.

You could just see him beaming, perfect grin and all.

“I could meet you Saturday, I need to be in the office on Friday for a meeting.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment and you worried he had a change of heart.

“Ye-yeah, that works. I was hoping to see you sooner, but I’ll take what I can get,” he said.

“Geez, Evans. Really turning up the flirting, huh?”

Oh, shit. Did I really just say that?

Chris was flirty. Even Scott said he was. The two of you were nothing more than friends. Sometimes even great friends.

It was his turn to let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe,” he replied simply enough.

“Where am I meeting you?” you asked.

“Let me check with my ma, and I’ll text you the details when it gets closer to Saturday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied.

“Now, tell me about these boys that were entertaining you,” he teased.

“You wouldn’t know them,” you teased right back.

As the days inched closer to Saturday, you became more and more nervous. Like, palms sweating nervous. To your dismay, Scott was not joining his family on this trip, so you wouldn’t have him as your go to in case you spazzed out or said something stupid. Was this just friends meeting up or was this possibly something more? That’s what you couldn’t reason through. You didn’t dare ask Scott. That family shared way too much with each other for you to say anything about Chris. It would no doubt get back to him making Saturday more awkward than it was already was. Your logical side said this was just you hanging out with your buddy Chris. That’s all this was. Chris split his time between L.A. and Boston. You were all the way in Orlando. While you had vacation funds, you didn’t have funds to fly out once or twice a month to meet up with someone. This couldn’t possibly be anything more. But the romantic side of you fantasized about this being something more. Even for just a day.

Chris sent you a text Friday morning when you were still in bed. It was seven in the morning and he apparently was wide awake.

Chris: It's Friday, Friday Gotta get down on Friday Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend

Holy geez.

You should have silenced your phone before going to bed. That wasn’t worth waking up to, even if it was from Chris.

Y/N: How do you even know that song?

Chris: Everyone knows that song.

Chris: I’m at the airport getting ready to board.

Y/N: Have a safe flight. I’m going back to bed.

Chris: Sassy…be more excited!

Y/N: Goodnight. Love you.

“What the fuck did I just type?!” you shouted, sitting straight up in your bed.

Even though you were tired, you never imagined being stupid enough to type that. Sure, you said that Jana, Brooks, even Scott, but that felt different. This was completely different. It came out so easily and you and Chris just never said that to each other. You couldn’t think of a way to back track that sentence. Seconds ticked by and you still had no clue.

The phone dinging with a new message catching your attention.

Chris: LOL love you too

LOL? How do I take that? At least he didn’t freak out about your response.

Well, now you couldn’t fall back to sleep. Instead you laid in bed contemplating the simple text you received. It was going to be a long day.

Chris had sent you a few texts throughout the day. He and his family were at Magic Kingdom and were apparently hitting every ride. It sounded both fun and exhausting. He sent you a reminder text just as you were getting out of work to meet at Epcot at ten tomorrow. Epcot was your favorite park, but mainly for the drinking in various “countries” aspect. You imagined it would be quite a different day with kids in tow. Besides, you weren’t planning on drinking a drop of alcohol while out with the Evans clan. You didn’t want his mom to think you were a partier because you totally weren’t. Having a glass of wine after a tough day or out with friends once a month didn’t mean you drank a lot by any means.

You gave Scott a call when you got home. It was much earlier than your normal call time, but your nerves were shot and he was usually pretty good about grounding you.

“What’s wrong? he asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?” you replied, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Being that you’re calling me five hours earlier than you usually do, I’m pretty sure something’s up.”

You let out a breath. Damn him being so preceptive.

“I’m meeting up with your brother tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ve already talked about that.” Scott said.

“It’s just…I’m just so nervous about it. I really wish you were going to be here,” you whined.

“It’s Chris! You guys are friends. What are you even nervous about Sassy? You and I hung out all weekend alone. I didn’t pick up on any nervous energy from you then,” he said.

“You’re right. It’s dumb. Never mind.”

“The two of you are dumb. Now, tell me what’s really going on,” he demanded.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” you groaned.

“You’re so annoying,” he mimicked.

“Chris and I were barely friends for what, like almost four months? Yeah, we texted, but weren’t close, barely spoke on the phone. And now we’re close again and it’s great, because if I’m being honest, I really missed him. But I’m just worried that seeing him will change things. I know that sounds stupid, but what if he meets me and decides I’m boring. Or I’m nothing special and he’s wasted all this time getting to know me. You and I never had a break, so it didn’t feel awkward to spend time with you. Plus, your mom, niece and nephews will be there. It’s just added pressure,” you spit out all at once.

“You done now?” Scott asked.

“Jerk,” you replied.

“Finally,” he said, choosing to ignore you. “First off, you are not boring. If he isn’t bored already, he’s not going to be. I didn’t tell you this because your head is big enough, but you are pretty terrific. I promise I’m not coming on to you, but you need to know I had a such a great time with you. I was there to cheer you up, instead, you gave me a fabulous weekend. We were already close, but that weekend brought us closer. And don’t even worry about my family, my mom is going to love you. This weekend is only going to cement you and Chris’ friendship. Trust me.”

Scott is amazing and you are damn lucky to have him. Not only were you feeling better, you were kind of bummed you didn’t try to hang out with Chris tonight. It was fine though. Work was a little stressful and your hair was doing that weird thing it sometimes does. That’s not a first, no, second impression you wanted to make.

After parking your car in the parking lot at Epcot, you took a few moments to calm your breathing. Fixing a couple smudges from your mascara in the rearview mirror, you took one final deep breath before getting out of the car.

It was nine forty five in the morning and it was already eighty degrees out. Temps were set to rise to close to ninety. Why the Evans clan didn’t take trips in the winter was beyond you. The crowds were generally lighter in early January and the weather was a lot more comfortable, but who were you to judge? You lived here year-round. Jana suggested wearing a cute sundress, but knowing it was going to be hot and you’d be running around with a few kids, dressing up didn’t seem sensible. You opted for jean shorts, a light gray tee with Mickey on the front, and a pair of slip on sneakers. The outfit was cute, but it didn’t make it seem like you were trying too hard.

Y/N: I’m here!

You made your way through bag check, skipping the line by stuffing your keys, license, and credit card in your front pockets.

Making your way to Spaceship Earth, you stopped in your tracks when your phone buzzed in your hand.

Chris: Just grabbing a couple of those spray mister fans for the kids. They’re already hot.

Chris: Where are you?

Y/N: In front of Spaceship Earth.

Minutes ticked by without a response from Chris. With one hand holding your phone, the other anxiously kept touching your hair. The humidity was already in high gear so you kept touching it, making sure it wasn’t being temperamental.

Clicking on the camera app, you switched the camera to selfie mode and used it like a mirror to check your hair and overall appearance. And then you saw him. He was attempting to sneak up behind you but failing as you could see him just slightly in frame of your camera. You didn’t mean to, but you had memorized that smile. You snapped a quick picture before turning around and startling him.

“Boo!” you shouted.

“Jesus! How’d you know I was here?”

You turned your phone to face him, showing him the selfie you captured with him in the background.

“Our first picture together,” you teased.

He grabs your phone out of your hand, throwing an arm around your shoulder. He snaps a picture, his megawatt smile on full display. In the one you captured, he was unprepared, and this one was no different, you were unprepared. So now you have two selfies on your phone with neither turning out just right.

You pull away slightly, grabbing your phone back.

“Can you warn a girl? I’d like to be prepared to take a picture. You know, maybe slap a smile on my face,” you scolded, smile peeking out even though you were trying to come across as serious.

He shakes his head at you.

“It’s nice to see you too, Sassy.”

You offer him a smile and take a step forward to hug him. The two of you don’t quite have the coordination down. Arms and shoulders bumping each other while you switch the position of your hands and finally get it right. He pulls you in tight, the brim of his ballcap hitting your forehead. The two of you chuckle at the exchange before pulling away.

He’s dressed casual in black basketball shorts, navy blue tee, sneakers, black ballcap low on his face. Even dressed so casually, he’s very easy on the eyes. Your tummy does a summersault as he takes you in.

Chris almost reaches for your hand, but then remembers that your surrounded by hundreds of onlookers who may have not noticed who he is yet, but could at any moment.

“Shall we?” he asks.

You nod your head and follow beside him, the two of you weaving in and out of the morning crowd. He stops next to a cart selling bottle water and misting fans. A woman you assume is his mother is next to three kids, all playing with their own misting fans.

“Ma,” he said, causing the woman to look up. “This is my friend Y/N. Y/N, this is my mother Lisa.”

You extend your hand for her to shake. She reaches out and does the same, offering you a smile, but it seems hesitant.

“Nice to meet you,” you offered.

“You as well,” Lisa replied.

“And these munchkins are Stella, Ethan, and Miles.” Chris said, pointing to each as he said their names. “This is my friend Y/N.”

“Hi guys!” you greet, waving at them with your hand.

The three of them all offer you a wave back.

“Should we go finding something fun to do?” Chris asked, mainly to the kids but he does glance at you and his mother.

A chorus of yeahs are said along with a fist bump or two. Chris grabs Stella and Miles’ hands and starts to walk, Ethan and Lisa walk along side of them while you trail a couple of steps behind.

The six of you make your way to Test Track where a cast member is waiting for your party. He introduces himself as Michael before leading your party through a side door you had never paid attention to before. There’s a whole design your own virtual car experience that you end up skipping since you are skipping the ride queue. Michael leads you to the side of the platform that the ride exits from. You wait one cycle before you’re allowed to load into the car. There are three seats in the front and three in the back. Chris gets into the front sliding all the way over, Stella gets into the middle seat and you next to Stella. Lisa, Miles, and Ethan slide into the backseat. Once everyone’s seatbelt is in place, the car advances forward.

As the car goes through twists, turns, and sudden stops, Stella giggles next to you while you hear Lisa say “oh no!” a few times from the back. You look at Chris who is grinning like a fool. He throws his hands in the air when the car flies through doors that open last second, leading you to a track that runs the outside perimeter of the building. The car reaches a peak speed of sixty-five miles per hour which isn’t necessarily fast on the open road, but in a convertible without a wheel or brakes, it’s pretty intense and fun. Your hair of course is shot. The wind having taken it in all sorts of directions.

The next attraction you hit is Mission: Space. Lisa opts to sit this one out with Stella, leaving you, Chris, Miles, and Ethan to ride the orange side. The orange side spins an extraordinary amount as it makes its way to Mars, while the green side is a lot tamer. The boys all wanted the orange side, so who are you to complain.

As the four of you file out the exit with Michael leading you, Miles complains that his tummy hurts. Chris picks him up and carries him the rest of the way to meet Lisa and Stella.

“I think we need to take a break. Miles isn’t feeling too well,” Chris said.

Lisa places, her hand on Miles’ head. “Are you not feeling well, sweetheart?” she asked.

He shakes his head no.

“There’s a shady spot with some tables over there,” you said, pointing to your left.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Chris said.

“I’ll grab some waters and meet you all over there,” Michael said before dashing off.

Chris pushes a couple of the small tables together while you grab an extra chair. Michael is back before you know it, carrying a bag filled with water bottles. He takes them out of the bag one by one setting them between the two tables.

“Chris, why don’t you and your friend go on without us,” Lisa offers.

“No, Ma. I’m sure it was just the spinning. He’ll be fine in a few. Besides, I don’t think he’s letting me go anytime soon.”

Miles clings to Chris as he sits on his lap. It’s the sweetest scene, seeing Chris hold onto Miles, while gently touching his forehead, brushing his har to the side. But you can’t help feeling like you’re intruding. While Lisa has been nice, she hasn’t given you the most welcoming vibes and you can’t miss the way her body is angled, essentially leaving you out of the conversation.

Only a few minutes have passed when you start to notice that a woman at a table a few away from your group is taking pictures with her phone. She isn’t being sneaky by any means. You’re really wishing you would have worn a ballcap today to hide your face. You don’t particularly care if your face ends up in a photo with Chris, but you don’t want to have him deal with that. October wasn’t that long ago, so you in another picture with Chris at Disney will only lead to more rumors. You turn slightly in your seat so that you’re facing away from him.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

“Someone’s taking pictures.”

“Of course. Fuck,” he mutters before quickly closing his mouth, forgetting that Miles is right there.

He stands up, still carrying Miles.

“Michael, can we find another spot?” Chris asked.

Lisa gets the other two kids to grab their bottles of water and out of their seats.

“Yes, Mr. Evans. Follow me please,” Michael answered.

He leads your group through a maze of turns, eventually entering into a door labeled “Cast Members Only”.

“Well just hang out here for a few minutes. I’m sure Miles needs the air conditioning,” Chris said.

The six of you plus Michael stand in a wide hallway just past the door. There’s a row of lockers on the wall with various open doors you can see in the distance. It’s a bit uncomfortable standing there and with no one speaking it’s downright awkward for you.

After a few minutes, Miles starts to perk up. Chris sets him down on his feet and Lisa asks if anyone is hungry.

The kids all agree that they are suddenly starving.

“Michael, is there any reservations available at Coral Reef or Garden Grill?” Lisa asked.

“I’m sure I can find something,” Michael said, pulling out his phone. “For six?”

“Just five,” she replied.

“Ma! Y/N is joining us.” Chris said.

“Oh, I didn’t know if she was spending all day with us or just the morning,” Lisa replied.

Well, now you know that uncomfortableness was with reason.

“It’s okay. I’m actually going to take off,” you said, patting your pocket to make sure you had your keys.

“Sweetheart, no. Stay with us.” He takes your arm and pulls you down the hallway a bit. “Have lunch with us. You’re welcome to. I want you to.”

You look back to his mom who quickly looks away. It’s a family trip so while she’s been a bit cold, you understand that she doesn’t know you and is probably protective of her family.

“That’s alright. This is your family trip and I’m a bit tired. I didn’t sleep so well last night,” you lied. “You guys go have a nice lunch. Call me before going to bed tonight.”

You pull Chris into a hug before he can protest. He places a kiss on your forehead before you pull away. He has a sad smile on his face that you try your best not to match.

As you walk past the group, heading to the door, you stop in front of Lisa.

“It was nice to meet you.”

“You too dear,” she replied.

“Have fun guys!” you said to three kids before pushing open the door, the sun slightly blinding you for a moment.

Sitting at home and sulking was doing nothing to brighten your mood. Frankly, you felt like shit. You felt bad for leaving the park without spending nearly enough time with Chris. And you felt bad for not just pushing through the uncomfortable vibes Lisa was putting out. What if you would have stayed and she had gotten to know you? You were friends with both Scott and Chris, there may come a time where you would see her again and now it’s going to be just as weird.

Scott texted you around dinner time.

Scott: How’d today go? Did you and Chris get matching ears?

Y/N: It went fine.

There. That was a reasonable answer. It was fine. Sure, you only saw Chris for like two or so hours, and they were mostly fine.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Of course, it was Scott.

“Look at you calling me so early,” you answered.

“What do you mean fine? That’s it? All this build up to fine.”

“It was just weird and I made it weirder by leaving early,” you sighed out.

“Why’d you leave early?” Scott asked.

“It just seemed like your mom didn’t want me there. And I don’t blame her. It’s a family trip and who the hell am I really?” you quickly spit out.

“Hey! I’m sure that’s not how she felt. You’re one of my best friends, she knows that. I’m sure somehow this is Chris’ fault. I’ll call you back.”

“No, Scott. You don’t have to do that,” you said.

But he didn’t reply back. The little shit hung up on you.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scott hit the contact button for Chris, the ring sounding too many times for Scott’s patience.

“Hey, Scott,” Chris answered.

“Hey, jerk,” Scott replied.

“Why am I a jerk? Jerk!”

“I just talked to Sassy. Doesn’t sound like it went well. What happened?”

Chris sighed. “Yeah, it could have been better. Miles didn’t feel well and it kind of just went downhill from there.”

Scott groaned. “That’s too bad. She mentioned something about Ma not wanting her there.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I mean, she wasn’t acting like they were best friends. They just didn’t get a lot of time to get to know each other. Sassy’s just overthinking it,” Chris said.

“Yeah…You’re probably right. It’s just too bad you didn’t get a lot of time together.”

“Me too,” Chris said softly.

“Have a good day tomorrow.”

“Thanks, bud. Bye,” Chris said.

“Bye,” Scott said, ending the call.

“What’s going on with Sassy?” Lisa asked, startling Chris.

“Geez Ma! Ya scared me,” Chris hissed.

Lisa chuckled at her son’s response, putting her hands up. “Sorry.”

“She’s just disappointed with how today went,” Chris replied, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t even know you knew Sassy,” Lisa said.

“What are you talking about?” Chris asked, suddenly really confused.

“Well, Scott talks about Sassy all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her.”

“Ma, you’re giving me a headache. I introduced you to Sassy today. What are you going on about?” Chris asked.

“Christopher, are you telling me that Y/N is Sassy?”

“Yes!” Chris half chuckled, half groaned out.

“Oh no.” she mumbled. “I didn’t know they were one in the same! Christopher, I thought she was just some girl you met. I didn’t know she was Scott’s good friend Sassy!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Well, geez Ma. Thinkin’ so highly of me that I’d bring around just some girl on a family trip.” Chris said, running his hand through his hair once again.

“You boys don’t tell me these things. Now I feel so bad. Please apologize to her for me. Actually, you should apologize as well,” Lisa said.

“Me? What did I do?” Chris shouted.

“You didn’t make her stay,” she said matter-of-factly. “Take her out tomorrow. Go spend time with your friend. I can handle the kids just fine.”

Lisa left the room, calling out to the kids who were suddenly too quiet in one of the bedrooms.

Chris hung his head low. His mother was right. This was his first time he’s seen you since your quick meeting last fall. He didn’t want to go home leaving today as your only impression.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scott had sent you a simple text that made you smile a short while later.

Scott: My brother’s a bone head

Y/N: Not disagreeing

The last Hallmark Christmas movie you saved to your DVR was playing on the TV. Something about a singer who was trying to catch his big break and ends up skipping Christmas. By now they storylines were all starting to blur together. Your phone buzzed with a message, dragging your eyes away from the TV.

Chris: You float like a feather In a beautiful world I wish I was special You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here

What’s he going on about?

Y/N: Radiohead?

Your phone rang about a half a second later.

“So, you’re a creep huh?” you answered.

“Feeling like one,” Chris sighed out. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I wanted our day to be better.”

“Babe, it’s fine. It wasn’t bad. I’m sure you’ll be in town again,” you replied.

“My mother says sorry by the way. She didn’t realize you were THE Sassy. Apparently, Scott goes on and on about you.”

You chuckled at that. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“My mother doesn’t think to highly of me as she thought you were just someone I met and asked to hangout with us,” he groaned.

“I didn’t think my Mickey tee gave off that vibe,” you chuckled out. “Tell her it’s fine and it was still nice to meet her.”

“You are such a sweetheart,” Chris said.

There goes your stomach again. You really wished that hug earlier wasn’t so short and sloppy.

“I was wonderin’ if I could see you again, tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t know Chris,” you said hesitantly.

“Please? Just the two of us. Just me and you. I want to see you again before I had back to Mass.”

“But it’s your family time and I don’t want to take away from that,” you reasoned.

“Sweetheart, my ma told me she can handle tomorrow by herself. Not that I don’t want to see you.” He lets out a breath. “I really want to see you.”

There’s so much conviction in his voice. It’s so gravely that your finding yourself gripping the side of the couch cushion to stay grounded.

“Okay,” you sputter out. Clearing your throat, you try that again. “Okay.” It’s firmer and much better than screaming “yes, please!”

“Great!” You can hear the smile in his voice which instantly puts one on your face. “Can you, ah, could you pick me up? We did a car service and I figure it’s probably easier if you just come and grab me?” he said.

“That’s not a problem. Dork.”

“Oh, are we back at that again? I’m pretty sure you were the one in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt today.”

You scoff. “Mickey is your idol. Don’t even!”

He chuckles low and deep. “You got me.”

Since it’s just you and Chris and you aren’t running around a theme park, you chose a white t-shirt dress with navy blue stripes. You added a thin brown leather belt to give the dress some form and pair it with brown strappy flat sandals. You’re picking Chris up at the villa they rented at one and then off to lunch. He’s letting you pick since you live in the area. Adding a touch of gloss to your lips, you grab your bag and walk out to your car.

After putting your car in park in the driveway, you fire off a text letting him know you’re there. Even though you received a sorry via Chris from Lisa, you didn’t want to chance another odd meeting. They probably were at the parks anyway, but you didn’t want to take that chance.

A minute later her comes jogging to your car. The goof. He’s dressed casually but put together in navy colored shorts and crisp white V-neck t-shirt. The fact that your coordinated doesn’t slip past you.

He gets in, immediately pulling you into a hug. Chris kisses your forehead for the briefest of moments before letting go. You manage a dopey smile because damn if you aren’t smitten. Generally, you are pretty quick on your feet and would have already had something witty to say, but that kiss, even though it was innocent, really threw you off.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You stare a little too long at his lips before shaking yourself out of it and slapping a smile on your face.

“So, lunch?” you asked.

The two of you dine at Four Rivers Smokehouse which is one of your favorite spots for a quick bite. The food is always great with a good mix of people stopping by on their lunch break and families enjoying a meal out.

He chooses the ribs and you the brisket before grabbing a table in the corner, offering him the seat facing the wall, hoping it brings a little anonymity. The idea of being recognized in public didn’t even cross your mind as it’s not something you ever have to worry about. You regret your decision of choosing a restaurant with so many windows and frequent turn over. Despite your worries, Chris has not alluded to any discomfort as he happily eats his food. He’s added extra barbecue sauce to his ribs. Squeezing a bit from each of the six bottles at your table, sampling each one before choosing the one labeled ‘smoky’.

“This is really good. I mean, really good,” he said, sauce smeared around his lips.

He’s adorable and it takes everything in you not to reach forward to wipe the sauce from his face. You lick your own, it’s an involuntary action that his eyes get drawn too. At least you’re not the only one finding yourself distracted.

“I come here like once a week. But we keep that between me and you,” you said with a smirk. He chuckles before grabbing a napkin to wipe his face.

Lunch has long been finished but the two of you stay seated at your table, enjoying just being together face to face. Your conversation is much like it is via phone call, but now you get to study each other’s facial expressions. Loving how his eyes crinkle when he really smiles. How his eyebrows raise when he gets serious. He’s a work of art and doesn’t even realize it.

It’s already four in the afternoon and the restaurant is in that between time after the lunch crowds and before the dinner rush. You somehow manage to remove your eyes from his and see that there are only two other tables occupied.

“I didn’t realize we’ve been here for so long,” you said, stretching your arms. “I’m also impressed you didn’t get any of that sauce on your white shirt.”

Chris chuckles and shakes his head. He reaches his hand across the table, taking yours in his.

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

“We can go back to my place,” you offer, your face instantly heating up at the implication. “I mean, because I live nearby. Not that you need to come back with me. I-I just want to hangout longer,” you stutter out.

Chris smiles wide, squeezing your hand a few times. “Let’s go hangout.”

“Cheers!” Chris said, clinking his bottle of beer against yours.

It’s the second bottle for both of you, but probably the last for you as you still need to drive him back and the whole “not drinking for a long time” promise you made yourself.

“Cheers,” you echo before taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Didn’t picture you the beer drinker, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that Mr. Evans?”

“Mr. Evans? Someone’s mighty formal,” he said. You shrug your shoulders in response before taking another sip. “You just seem like wine is more your speed. Perhaps raspberry vodka,” he chuckles out.

“I could just kill your brother,” you groan out. “Pretty sure I have at least a third of the bottle left in my fridge if you want any.”

Chris shakes his head, taking a drink of beer. “I’ll leave that for you.”

“So, kind. So, kind,” you snicker.

He’s reclined on your couch while you sit in your comfy blue armchair, feet folded up under you. Chris is skimming through the music on your phone, picking a new song after the last is done rather than letting it play through.

“You wanna sync your phone to my speakers? We can play something from your phone,” you offered.

“Nah, I like a lot of your stuff.”

You hold your hand in front of your face and pretend to blow on your nails while winking at him, in that “I’m too cool” kind of way.

The sun is starting to set and you have a good view of the painted sky from your backyard. It’s still plenty warm, but with the sun down and your ceiling fan on, the two of you are comfortable sitting on your loveseat on the lanai snacking on pizza rolls because that’s all that you had that didn’t require defrosting.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Chris said.

“Yeah, it’s not a bad view to have. Should’ve had you bring your suit. It was hard to drag Scott out of the pool,” you replied.

“How’d you put up with him the whole weekend?” Chris asked. He said it so seriously, but you can see a hint of a smile.

“Well, I’ve managed so far with you, so I can pretty much handle anything.”

He bumps you with his shoulder and shakes his head. “So, sassy.”

“That’s what they call me.”

“Who’s they?” Chris smirks.

“Just you and Scott.”

You let out a little chuckle and you notice those eye crinkles reappear.

“Good,” he agrees.

It’s late, nearing eleven. Chris stopped drinking after three beers, the two of you switching over to water.

“You want to watch a movie?” Chris asked.

You had gone back to your living room an hour prior. Sitting in opposite corners of the couch, but facing each other, your foot bumps his leg once in awhile causing you both to blush.

“Don’t you have to get back? You have an early flight, right?”

“Not until eleven thirty. We can go if you want me to or if you’re getting tired, but I rather stay here with you,” he replied, sincerity in his voice.

Fuck. He’s going to be the death of me.

Honestly, you’d stay up for the next two days if it meant spending time together. And the fact that he wants to stay makes you want to weep tears of joy. But that’s just a little too dramatic.

“I want you to stay.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you agree, lightly slapping his bent leg resting on the couch cushion.

He grabs your hand before you can pull it away, holding it there, just resting on his leg. You shyly look up and see him looking at you. The only words that matches the two of you is heart eyes and you pray that you aren’t imaging it.

After what feels like several minutes but more like mere seconds, your mouth opens up and you break the spell.

“What do you want to watch?”

Chris lets go of your hand and your heart instantly crashes at the loss of contact.

“I think you know,” he replied. Your mouth quirks to the side while you try to figure him out. “Come on! You know.”

You put on a fake annoyed look and shake your head. “Really? Do we have to?”

“I’m pretty sure you said if I visited, we’d watch it,” Chris said.

“Fine. I’m a woman of my word,” you said.

Grabbing the Roku remote, you clicked on your Amazon app, finding The Princess Bride, and renting before Chris could offer you five dollars to pay for it.

“I’m the host! I don’t need your money babe,” you reasoned.

The movie played on and you slowly found yourself leaning on Chris more and more. Not that he minded. The closer you got, the more hands on he became. Half way through, you were completely laying on his chest, both your legs out stretched on the couch while his rest on the floor. His left arm is stationary on the arm of the couch while the other was wrapped around you. Your right hand laid on his chest as your fingers lightly rub it without even realizing you were doing so. Chris would quietly hum now and then, bringing a smile to your face.

Friends cuddle. They totally do.

Before you even reach the end of the movie, you’ve fallen asleep. So much for seeing it all the way through. Chris readjusted so that the two of you are laying comfortably.

You awake sometime later to Chris brushing his hand through your hair. The TV is still on but nothing is playing.

“M’sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

You sit up slightly, taking in his tired eyes. He looks back at you adoringly.

“It’s okay. I’ll make you watch it again next time,” he said softly.

The words next time make you beam inside. You sit up, setting your feet on the floor.

“Want me to bring you home?”

“Nah, we’re both too tired. Take me in the morning?” he asked.

“Of course. Do you want to go to bed? What time is it anyway?”

“I think about three.” Chris sits up on the couch, running a hand down his face. “I’m actually a little more awake after our nap,” he quietly chuckled.

“You want to pull an all-nighter?” Well, kind of all-nighter since we did sleep for a little bit.”

“Yeah, if you’re not too tired,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, shit! Did you tell your mom you weren’t coming back?”

Chris throws his head back laughing. “It’s my ma. Of course, I sent her a text. Once we started the movie, I figured I’d be staying over.”

“Good. I don’t need her thinking I’m a bad person. Taking advantage of her baby boy.”

You get up, walking to the kitchen to grab a couple of more water bottles. Chris swats your ass just as you pass him.

The two of you have the music back on, sitting close to one another, choosing to talk through the early hours of morning. It’s nice and you can’t help but feel closer to him. Part of you is worried that this is a one-time thing. Chris comes to Orlando once or twice a year, but probably can’t get away to spend time with you each trip. You start to do the math on your own vacation time, trying to think if there are events out of state that a publication will pay you to write about. But it’s way too early to be thinking this much, you just need to be here in the now.

You shift your focus back to Chris who’s looking at you with a dopey grin.

“So, will you?” he asked.

Huh?

“Will I what?” you asked.

“Did I lose you for a minute?” he chuckles out.

“I’m sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m with you now. What’d you ask?”

“I said.” Chris stands up. “Do you want to go for a walk?” He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, not letting you answer. “Sun’s almost up.”

You nod your head, walking to the door to slip on a pair of sneakers. They don’t quite go with your dress, but you’ve essential been up for almost a full day.

Grabbing your keys from the table near the door, you lock up and pass your keys to Chris since you don’t have any pockets. You live on a residential street that’s a mix of vacation rentals and long-term residents like yourself. There are a few joggers out, but besides them, it’s just you two.

Chris takes your hand in his as the two of you stroll slowly around your block.

“I’m really glad you were able to hangout today,” he said.

“Me too. I actually wish you were staying longer.”

“Me too sweetheart. I don’t want to wait another seven months to see you,” he confessed.

You stop in your tracks. Keeping a hold of his hand, you turn to face him.

“You don’t?” you asked.

Where this doubt is coming from, you’re not so sure. The two of you are friends, so of course you’ll see each other again. It’s just this in between flirting and touching that has you all mixed up.

Chris gently rests his other hand on your face and leans in, slowly bringing his lips to yours. They’re soft and smooth, just like you’ve imagined. You eagerly kiss him back but don’t want to push it, so you remain solid where you stand, letting him do the work. He slowly pulls away, but not far because you can feel his warm breath on your face. His eyes are intense, asking for permission. You slightly nod your head and before you know it, his lips hit yours. It’s so quick you’ve barely shut your eyes before his other hand takes a hold of your face and he kisses you more intensely. You’re not complaining, but you are thankful it’s so early, the neighborhood is barely awake. You wrap your arms around his back and hold him tight as he kisses you senseless. He pulls back again, still holding your face gently before planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open to see a soft smiling Chris. He’s still lightly holding your face and you hope he doesn’t stop.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

He knows it was. He’s just being a little shit per the usual.

You give him a small frown and quickly see a tiny bit of doubt in his eyes.

“I think I need to try that again,” you said, grabbing his face and bringing him to you. You kiss him softly on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times before you feel him smile against you. He leans his forehead against yours as you both stand there like two smiling fools.

“Of course, I don’t want to wait this long to see you again,” he breathes out.

“Me neither,” you agree.

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years ago

Text

Loving You Is A Losing Game- chapter four

hii! okay, before this chapter begins, i wanna say i’m actually pretty proud of it? idk why, but i am. and also, this book probably won’t be updated for about 2-4 weeks.

i really wanted to focus this past week on writing, but i had finals to study for and everything so it took up a lot of time (i say as i watch criminal minds) but yeah, i’m hoping to get a lot of writing done in the next two weeks since today was my last day of school. yay!

without further ado, chapter four of loving you is a losing game!

~*~

"i'm afraid of what i am, my mind feels like a foreign land"

~*~

alex walked with robbins down the hallway, the blonde reciting her speech for the third time that day, looking to the resident for approval, her eyes silently asking him for any feedback he might have. she wasn't normally nervous about these kinds of things, but she felt that the fact that she was speaking to med students held a greater responsibility. these students were the future of medicine. they hadn't experienced the loss of a patient yet, or the crying sobs of parents when they had to be told that their child didn't make it.

the med students were... bright and shiny. they saw everybody in a higher place in their careers as practical gods. so, while she still had the chance, she wanted to root into all of these young minds that no matter what anyone said, peds was hardcore. it wasn't 'babysitting' like she had heard so many of the residents and interns call it.

peds was undoubtedly the hardest specialty. maybe not skill wise, but definitely emotionally. only the people with grit could survive peds. they worked on kids. maybe that meant that there was an everlasting sea of hope surrounding the patients, where they still were able to believe that the magic the doctors gave them could make them better.

but, it was known for a fact that losing a kid was worse than losing any grown adult.

a young life, taken from the word much too soon. it was cruel. so, so cruel. what had this young person done to have its life taken away? what about all the horrible people in the world who walked around free, living their lives? the rapists, the killers... why did they get to still be on the earth while a tiny human wasn't. it was messed up.

but that's why peds was tough.

because, while losing a kid was probably the worst feeling for a surgeon to go through, a success was so much more appreciated when it was one. the fact that they saved a person who had barely even got to live their life yet was the reason why arizona became a pediatric surgeon. because of what she was able to do, this person would get to grow up, fall in love, make bad choices, do things they knew for a fact they would regret later on. and that was truly all she could really ask for.

she was starting to see it in alex too, the peds glow. she didn't want to admit it out loud, for she knew that he would let the cocky part of him show and give her a well thought out retort. but lately, she'd been watching him, realizing that he was indeed serious about peds, that it wasn't just a lame middle school dare that he arranged with his fellow residents.

she saw the way his face would light up when a kid would say 'dr. alex!' so excitedly as he entered a room. she watched how he would spend time getting to know his patients, so that way they would have something to talk about later on if it was necessary. she was starting to see that maybe, just maybe, alex would make a fine peds surgeon.

"so..." she trails off, looking at the man expectantly, not missing the way he looked distracted as he kept his gaze on his feet.

he looks up, giving her a reassuring nod. "it's great robbins." he said sincerely, making her let out a relieved breath. she knew how honest karev could be, it was both a strength and a fault. he always told things as they were and didn't sugarcoat anything. if he thought something was crappy, he would literally tell you, "it's crappy," and that was something she appreciated.

she casts a worrying glance over him, his head hung low as the look in his eyes seemed to show that he was somewhere else. "you okay?" she asks.

he nods, snapping back to reality "yeah. just thinking."

"well, you know what you need to do right? you're like my assistant alex. click the computer's button when i need the next slide, interject when i ask you to..." she trails off, praying that he wouldn't mess this up.

alex gives her a signature glare, a bit offended that the blonde was doubting his abilities. "of course i can. a twelve year old could do it." he retorts.

she gives in, "fine." she walks down the hall faster, not even waiting for the man to catch up to her before she enters through the auditorium's doors, settling in the wings backstage.

it was a few minutes later when arizona is introduced, him trailing behind her like an obedient little puppy as she stands by the podium and microphone.

"hi everyone! i'm dr. arizona robbins from seattle grace hospital," she starts in a chipper voice, already managing to wake up most of the somehow tired students. "and this," says, pointing over to the man at her right, "is my mentee, dr. alex karev."

the man grins at the words, a sense of pride coming over him. the blonde and never used that term on him before and he wasn't going to lie, he really liked the sound of it.

"alex?" she nods towards him, telling him to introduce himself. he makes his way up to the mic, adjusting it slightly so it would reach him better, since the blonde was much shorter than him.

he takes a breath, trying to calm the nerves building in his stomach. he'd always been too cocky and arrogant for his own good, though it was all just an act. talking in front of all these wide eyed med students was honestly a bit terrifying. he pulls himself together quickly, mustering up one of his famous smirks as he looks into the crowd. "hey, i'm dr. alex karev, third year surgical resident at seattle grace, interested in pediatrics. i train under dr. robbins." he explains (incredibly) lamely, but was glad it seemed to be enough, since all the students looked satisfied with his answer.

arizona takes the mic again, starting a speech that he had heard a few times by now, but it had never failed to give his heart another strong tug towards specializing in pediatrics. "peds is hardcore." she starts, using the phrase he had heard so many times in the last three months. "don't let anyone tell you otherwise." she smiles, looking back towards alex with a knowing look in her eyes.

"to most of the people in this room, when you think of peds, you think of kids with runny noses and cuts on their forehead because they fell off the slide at the park. am i right?" she asks, making most of the students in the audience nod.

"you see yourselves as being babysitters, babysitters for tiny humans. well let me tell you, you can't be further from the truth."

"in peds, we save the lives of children. we help kids grow up, achieve their dreams. sure along the way there's the added bits of magic and joy, but it's not always sunshine and rainbows." she says, not missing how some students look down guiltily. "some people immediately want to go into peds when they start their internship. they think that working with cute little kids would be so amazing and working with them would be a breeze, well, they're wrong.

"peds is only for the hardcore. the elites. many people aren't strong enough for peds. some can't deal with losing kids as easily as they thought they could. losing kids takes a major toll on you. we ask ourselves all the time -when we see stuff in the news or online- what did these kids do to deserve the hand they got? they're just kids. why did they get shot the jerk of a man who lives next door?"

it was only the start of her speech -that had multiple parts-, but alex knew she already had everyone hooked.

"losing kids is something you never get over. don't think that losing a kid gets easier every time it happens. in fact, sometimes it's just worse. because you feel guilty. you feel guilty at the fact that you couldn't save this child. you feel guilty at the fact that you couldn't save their life..." she pauses for a second, looking over at alex, letting him know it was his turn to speak. "and now i'm going to hand it over to doctor karev." he was still a bit newer to the world of surgery, so he remembered better what it was like to be a med student than she did.

alex takes a breath, going over the speech in his head. "losing a kid is nothing like losing an adult." he starts

"some of you think that it's the same, some of you think that it's drastically different. but the only real similarity is that someone didn't make it."

he scanned the crowd, proud at the fact that the audience seemed entranced by what he was saying.

"the first kid i lost i was in my fourth month of my internship. i had been on my third peds rotation, but hadn't had a loss yet, which is a bit surprising." he lets the memories flood through him, reliving it, feeling that pain in his heart.

"i remember the day like it was yesterday. i had a couple of free minutes -a major rare as an intern- so i lied down on a gurney, and started eating a bag of chips. a few minutes later i got paged to the trauma bay. it was a three car pile- up freeway. the first ambulance unloaded a woman, emily smith, a thirty three year old female, the second, james smith, a thirty five year old male, and the third was the one i took with my attending, four year old melissa smith."

he bites his bottom lip, knowing he had to be in control in his emotions. even three years later it still affected him the same way it did that day.

"melissa was a little chatter box, talking my ear off as we rolled her into a trauma room. talked about her dog named fluffy, her favorite barbie movie, -princess and the pauper-, and even told me about her new toy horse 'shiny sparkles mchoof the third'. don't know where she got "the third" from but..." he trials off, earning some laughs from the audience.

he smiles his crooked grin, feeling a little bit more at ease. "melissa was strong. real strong. she had a broken arm and leg, not to mention, a lot of internal bleeding, and yet she only shed a couple tears. she was too excited to talk about fluffy and how she taught him how to roll over earlier that week."

"i thought melissa was gonna be okay. i thought 'she's talking, she's laughing, she'll make it'. i learned that day that you can't assume things." he says, glancing down towards the podium for a quick second.

"melissa didn't survive surgery. my attending had me break the news to the parents, which i found stupid because i was just the intern who was supposed to send them updates, but i did it anyways."

alex lets out a shuddering breath, the students in the seats sitting at the edge of them, feeling the hurt of the story as if they were there themselves.

"telling family member's that their brother or mom or dad or whatever didn't survive already sucks. but telling a parent that their kid... their child didn't make it? it's terrifying." it still hurt him to this day. these children were their flesh and blood, products of their love for one another, how do you just simply tell them that the person they loved most in this world was gone?

"melissa fought during surgery. she fought tooth and nail, but unfortunately, it just wasn't enough. but how are you supposed to tell that to a parent? it's hard, because as a part of peds, you need to be good with parents as well."

he inhales sharply through his nose, letting a thin breath through his nose. "the cries i heard from the parents that day made me want to quit." he tells the crowd honestly, making them widen their eyes. "i'd lost patients before that and it hurt like hell. but the day i told the smith's that we lost melissa... it seriously made me question my idea of being a surgeon."

"losing a child is something you never get over, whether you're a parent like the smith's, or just a doctor like me and dr. robbins, losing a kid is not something you aren't able to just move on from, even if -like i said- you're just their doctor."

his eyes glance over the crowd, surprised to see tears in a few of the student eyes. 'that's a bit weird', he thinks. "i wasn't lying when i said that i questioned my career as a surgeon after melissa. i was seriously considering quitting."

"but after a while of brooding, i decided that i wasn't going to quit. if anything, i was going to try my hardest to make sure that kids like melissa wouldn't have to go through the same thing, that's when i got interested in peds actually, but the attending i had at the time was..." he makes a face, trying to refrain himself was saying 'dick', "not my favorite. so, it wasn't until more recently when i got the opportunity to explore pediatrics again."

he sucks in a breath, "all of you guys right now look terrified." he says, speaking the truth, everyone in their seats looked like a cross between they'd just seen a ghost and someone told them their dog had died. "and you're probably wondering why the hell i just said thing that would make you want to do the exact opposite then go into peds." alex says, causing the crowd to nod.

he chuckles softly, "well, all of you guys should be upset, you should be terrified, because that's what peds is. you're terrified every second of every day. but only the best, like dr. robbins, are truly able to handle that kind of pressure."

alex cracks a small grin, " so long story short... if you're a wuss, don't go into peds." the audience laughs and starts to clap as arizona makes her way back to the podium, going into the next part of her speech.

____

they can feel their eyes on each other, the fires in their stomachs growing from the stolen, forbidden glances. it was so wrong of them to be thinking about the night before. wrong to feel like it was what they had been waiting their whole lives for.

how he touched her...

how she touched him...

they way their bodies melded so perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces seemingly snapping into place.

somehow along the way they had inched closer to each other, going from opposite sides of the room to a mere ten feet away. she sipped her nearly full vodka tonic slowly, a large comparison to the night before.

he drank his beer smoothly, only on his first bottle and not even halfway through it.

before they knew it their eyes were communicating, what could only be described as lust, desire, and wanting burning so intensely in them they could set a man on fire.

she reads his dark brown orbs, not even needing to look into them long before she knows what he's thinking, and she knows her eyes are reading the same thing too.

they can feel the guilt through their stares. they were trying so hard not to, resisting so fiercely. tugging themselves away from the pull that was trying to bring them together. they tried to put last night behind them, convince themselves it wasn't as breathtaking as they remembered. they tried to push it into their brains, tucking into a small sealed box in the corner to never be seen again.

lust

passion

romance

they feel it oozing from their bodies, pouring out of single a stare, no matter how hard they try not to. they try to tear their eyes away from each other, oh i promise you, they try to peel their eyes away, they try not to think about it.

he doesn't try to think of her silky skin and the way it smelled like vanilla.

she doesn't try to think of the vibration he sent through her body then he groaned into her mouth.

but they just do.

he can't help the way he thought of her lips and how they tasted like a cherry red lollipop.

she can't help the way she thought about how his lips tasted like spearmint gum... so fresh, so god damn sexy.

they knew that they couldn't, that they shouldn't.

but the heart wants what the heart wants. and their heart? all their hearts wanted was for them to let the waves of pleasure flow through their body again, which only came from each other, nobody else.

nobody has made him feel the way she did. not the countless number of nurses, interns, coworkers, and previous classmates. not even his own wife.

nobody had ever made her feel the way he did. not any previous ex-boyfriends, not a couple random hot-as-fuck one night stands. not even her own husband.

so, somehow, without even knowing it, they ended up where they were now, an abandoned hallway on the seventh floor where he was staying, lips locked in the fiery throes of passion.

gasps escaped her lips heavily as she feels a wave of ecstasy roll over her, even more so than the night before. turns out kissing each other was even better sober than drunk.

he tries his hardest to keep his groans at bay, but the way her hands are roaming his chest, just barely skimming his pants, makes it more than difficult.

before they are about to step into the room she pulls back unexpectedly, giving him a perfect view of her red swollen lips and slightly disheveled hair. "we shouldn't" she whispers softly, her eyes telling a completely different story than the words coming out of her mouth.

"we shouldn't" he agrees, his voice the same as hers.

"it's wrong."

"really wrong."

her eyes bore into his, trying so hard to pull away, but she can't, like some magnetic force is keeping her gaze from wandering anywhere but his deep brown and green eyes.

"we're married." she speaks, sigh falling from her lips heavily as she licks them, savoring the taste of them. they tasted like him.

"we're married." he repeats.

"to other people."

"to other people." he breathes, just the sound of his voice making her heart rate pick up.

she lets out a loud sigh, fighting every internal battle. her head telling her it was wrong. but her heart telling her that nothing was more right. "screw it." she says so softly he almost misses it.

he doesn't even have time to comprehend her words before he feels her lips of his.

and that's how they came together for the second time, it being even more earth shattering than the last.

the first time they could blame it on the alcohol.

but the second time...?

the second time was all them.

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stillheresanctuary · 4 years ago

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General Update

Hey everybody, long time no see.

So, this is mostly an update for people who aren’t following my main blog, but it’s probably a good catch up for everybody else as well. I totally don’t mind if nobody reads this, I simply feel it’s important for me to pop in and make sure folks know A) I’m not dead, and B) this blog isn’t dead.

Here’s the in depth:

At the beginning of this pandemic, before things went really SOL, I was just starting a new job, where I was going to be a summer camp councilor. I was super excited, and I got through the training, got to run a grand total of two quests- And then everything shut down. I was furloughed, and forced to rely on Unemployment Benefits and food stamps to keep me from going homeless and hungry. That was the end of July.

Now, here in January 2021, I’m still without a job, but things are looking up!

I’m moving house to a location that’s $200 cheaper than where I currently live, so less expenses coming out of my pocket. I’ve applied to become a teacher on Skillshare, where I’m hoping I’ll be able to put together some classes on basic sewing skills and how to salvage material from fast fashion (I’ll post a link here to the classes if folks are interested at all). I’m buffing my illustration portfolio and looking into freelance work (my resume is still in progress, but it’s getting there).

These are positives that I am clinging to quite desperately, praying that they pan out so that this year- This Year- will prove to be That Much Better than 2020.

Now. What’s this got to do with the blog?

Well, first things first- Once I’ve gotten myself moved, I’m going to start a dedicated schedule for the Rescue Center. It’s something I was trying to do throughout 2020, but was never fully able to thanks to Literally Everything plus my own Bad Brain (I’m looking into getting therapy, so Bad Brain is being worked on). While I want to continue the various RP threads that unfortunately wound up stagnating over the year, I also want to introduce more art and general interaction to the blog as a whole, and I’m thinking a rotating schedule including Art Streams and Crew Ask days to help with world building and general plot will be fun for everyone. I’m also thinking of including more of these general Day To Day updates, including gardening and crafts that I would be doing with the Crew (either drawing them in or implying them in the scene).

I want to do more with this blog, I want to include people more and I want to have fun with this all again. I miss playing with everyone, I miss answering questions and generally just having a good time with everybody.

That being said, please reblog and reply to this post with any ideas you think might be fun. Should I go forward with the gardening? Should I include moving projects and having the Crew involved? What would you like to see in the art streams? What would you like to see happen for events?

I’d be happy to hear any and all ideas. :)

#stuff cell says #mod stuff #Day to Day #meta

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sherlockfanficwriting · 5 years ago

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Sherlock BBC Mycroft “Her Love”

Summary - Mycroft and you have always competed with one another since as early as university; you hated each other, but only on the outside. Life moved on as everyone separated into their own lives and jobs, but one particular day you meet him again. After a certain set of events, you end up rescuing him, and what happens after that is untold.

Warnings - none, not sure

A/N - hola! second story from a break hope everyone is healthy and happy and chilling. Make sure to eat well, workout, and relax :) its literally summer! But anyways enjoy this story and send me some more requests as i am getting through them. (this one was a request and i loved it sm)

Years ago in University

You enter the Criminal Justice classroom and sit near the bottom of the high set of seats. You adjust yourself into a comfortable position and pull your books out. You hadn’t even opened one of them yet. You didn’t need to. After a handful of students walked in, the professor does too.

“Good morning. How is everybody today?” The professor asked. He swiftly pulled out his papers and began scribbling on the board. The students mumbled a polite answer. You turned your head to the side and met the devilish grazing eyes of Mycroft Holmes. He eyed you suspiciously and you returned it, but quickly darted his eyes back to the front after a second of contact. You smiled and shook your head. He thought he was better than you, but he wasn’t, and he knew it. Even if he didn’t, you would constantly make him know.

“Okay, a little different approach here today, class. You all recall that last case study we were working on, I assume? We touched up on it a few days ago. Refresh yourselves quickly on the complexity of the case. It continues today. I will be discussing and asking all of you questions. Remember, you’re the top of the top here.”

You narrowly turned your head to glance at Mycroft. His attention was focused on the professor. He didn’t blink.

“What was the intent of the murder?” The professor asked.

“Maternal revenge,” you spat out, barely after the question was out of his mouth. The professor nodded at you and continued on. The class was a breeze.

“What was the initial thought of the victim walking in the room?”

“To arm himself yet not be disguised. He wanted to hide but only wished to in his mind. He chose to ponder about slowly to his demise,” Mycroft rapidly spoke.

You rolled your eyes. After a dozen more questions that rotated between you and Mycroft, the class was over. You abruptly stood up and walked out of the classroom near the exit of the building. You heard Mycroft walking behind you. You didn’t speak or say anything to him. He walked outside with you and finally matched up to your speed.

“You think you’re better than me.” Mycroft said.

You laughed. “I am.”

“You see that’s the problem. I am superior and I will always be. Just simply stop trying.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

---Years Later-----

Your alarm not so peacefully woke you up from your tranquil slumber. You shifted your body closer to the side of your bed to read those bright red numbers you despised.

6:00

You groaned, practically tripping over nonexistent items as you walked to your bathroom. You quickly brushed your teeth and pulled together your hair. Soft strands of hair rested over your shoulder. Feeling more awake, you hopped to your closet and ran your hands along the minimalist cashmere and silk clothes that you owned. You pulled out a a pair of black trousers and a cream colored blouse. You paired it with a black blazer. As you stepped infront of the long mirror in the corner of your room, your eye caught the morning sun’s reflection off the glass of your diplomas and recognitions. A silver heart for bravery was pinned to the wall next to glass encovered cases as well as colored ribbons signifying your criminal investigation awards. You smiled to yourself in the mirror. This was who you were.

After applying a light wave of makeup over your features you slipped on a pair of dark heels and your purse. You skipped down the steps as if you were wearing sneakers and stepped near the curb to call for a cab. One came speeding by and you jumped in.

“Manchester Station.”

After a pleasant speedy drive halfway through the city of Manchester, the cab slowed down to a stop. You tipped the man and stepped out of the car, walking up to the long set of cream steps. You swiftly walked through the door, manuvering your body through the bustling people. You walked up the main steps to get to your office. As you walked down the hallway you glanced in one of the glass-walled offices. You saw one of your partners, James with a phone pressed up to his ear, lightly scribbling notes. He noticed you and offered a warm smile to which you returned. You passed a few other colleagues on your way to the office to whom you waved at. As soon as you opened your door you practically collapsed. As much as you loved being a detective, being in the office for a mere hour was enough to kill you. Being on the streets and in the action was what provided you with the vigor and stamina to which you live your life now. Picking yourself back up, you went over to your coffee machine and started a cup. A few seconds later, you heard a knock at your door accompanied with the sound of the door swinging open. You turned your head to see Paul and Lauren, another close colleague, standing there.

“Deduce me!” They both shouted, giggling. This wasn’t a new thing. Multiple times a day they would ask you this. It felt good. You were born like this. You could tell them a thousand things they would never think twice about. You picked up your coffee and locked eyes with Paul. Your eyes moved down and up and left and right, absorbing and understanding his movements and attire and his face. The face told a lot.

“You didn’t eat today. You were wearing a dark shirt but promptly changed it after a minute. You recently talked to your family; they are warm and welcome which is new and refreshing for you.”

Paul scoffed. “Amazes me everytime.”

“My turn!” Lauren exclaimed.

You proceeded to look at her, but Lewis, the “head man” of your department suddenly walked in the door. His face was tense and his actions followed along. Your body stiffened and you were alert.

“We’re going to London. Now.” He said, promptly rushing away. You swigged your coffee and walked out of the doorway. Paul and Lauren jogged to their offices. You caught Lewis running down the hallway. Something was wrong. Something was going on. You ran after him.

“Lewis, when are we leaving? Why are we going to London?” You asked.

He stopped momentarily and caught his breath. “Important case. The govenment. We’re leaving now. We’ll take my car. Paul will drive with Lauren. We need to go now. It’s at least a 4 hour drive.” He grabbed your arm lightly and you ran off with him.

“Why do they ask for us?”

Lewis chuckled. “For you mainly. Like I said, hard case, but not a challenging one. One that requires only the intelligent.”

You couldn’t believe it. You ran down the steps and hopped into the shotgun seat of Lewis’s car. He ran inside and ignited the key, promptly speeding away. Thoughts rushed through your head quickly. You’ve only been in England for a few years yet you have never been to London. Why, you ask? You didn’t have the slightest clue.

Lewis sped at least ten miles above the speed limit on the highway, causing your heart to race out of excitement. You could just taste it.

“Did you get any case background?” You asked.

Lewis shook his head. “It’s highly contained. From my time here, I’m only guessing its something technological.”

“Linked with something physical.” You said.

He nodded. “You’ll do it. You’re the best we have. The best anyone would have.”

You smiled at him. You weren’t nervous, you were ready. It was about time.

3 hours later from excessive speeding

Lewis’s car stopped in front of an immensely tall building covered with blue glass windows. You had no idea what this was. Secret Service? Most likely.

You walked with Lewis to the front door and met a plethora of guards. You both showed your badges and after a few phone calls made from the guards and nodds of respect, you walked inside. The inside was captivating. Everything was modernized and the surfaces reflective. Tall, powerful figures moved about. Lewis and you walked up the main steps.

“They’re meeting us on the second floor. I wouldn’t be so sure where.” He said, turning left and right.

You knew where from looking at the room. “In here. Should we wait?”

“No need to.” A stern voice said from behind you and Lewis. You turned your head and gazed up to a young tall man. His eyes were tired but his spirit was strong. He was a lower tier colleague of almost no status.

“It’s over here,” he said, leading you to the next hallway over. The flooring plan suddenly changed and led up to an even larger glass room full of guards on each corner of the premicise. The man walked up to the door and opened it for you and Lewis. You walked inside, eyeing every single thing you could. You saw four men and an older woman standing near the window, holding papers and chattering visciously.

The man who just led you in coughed and everyone turned around. A short man burst out from the group and said, “We’ve been expecting you. We apologize for the short notice. I’m sure you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“We understand. We know you couldn’t provide the information over phone. Everything is as planned.” Lewis said.

The man looked worried and nodded to him. He turned his attention to you. When he did so, his face untensed and his eyes relaxed. He held out his hand to you.

“You, Miss, we’ve heard nothing but good.”

You shook his hand and he quickly cut loose from the courtesy.

“We must get to the case. Please, sit down.” He motioned. The four other people sat around the table and you sat next to Lewis on one side. The head of the table was missing. The chair, idle. You wondered who sat there.

“There’s professional hacking done. Televisions abruptly stopping and transferring to messages. Murders....with......banks......robbing......aquiesced with no hesitation.........killers............terrorists...”

You zoned in and out of the words being spoken. You had the whole concept down in about two minutes. The rest wasn’t vital information for you.

The short man faced you. “We need you to crack codes and primarily investigate a mansion in the countryside. He worked for the govenrment, he was up here. Killed. I’m sure it will take you time to understand why and how he was murdered, but you have time.”

You tried not to scoff. You could get it done without even being there. They underestimate you.

“(Y/N), is good at this. She’s a star in computer programming. Give her any computer, she’ll have all the codes and passwords lied out for you in minutes.” Lewis said.

“I understand that. However actions are key here. There was a reason we called you. Lewis, you’ll stick with our management and analysis now. I see you have two other detectives, they can branch out to the banks and such with our other teams.”

Suddenly the large glass doors swung open. You didn’t turn around to look, but you knew it was the head of the table, whoever that was.”

“Sir, I ran through the prerequisites and plan with them. We start today with this team.” The man said. You looked down at your legs and across to the window, endlessly bored.

“Yes, you told me who you would bring. A girl? You insisted she was....good? I didn’t get a chance to read over the folder.”

That voice sounded familiar

“Why, yes, Mr. Holmes, she’s right here. (Y/N).”

Your heart dropped. You knew that name. You whipped your head to the head of the table and met the surprised eyes of Mycroft Holmes. You locked eyes, trying to understand.

“Mr. Holmes, (Y/N), is everything....?” The man asked.

“Everything is well, Thomas. I personally knew (Y/N) a handful of years ago. University.” He said.

You smiled and nodded your head.

“Right, now, we must all leave now. I have teams on numerous locations already.” He said, abruptly standing up. Everyone else rushed up and followed him out of the door. You couldn’t believe he was here. The head of this. The mastermind. You almost forgot about him, but you never forget intelligence.

You rushed out of the room to find him walking down the hall with two others. One was frantically talking into the phone. You walked up to Mycroft’s side.

“Where am I going?” You asked.

“With us. Helicopter pad is a floor up.”

You smirked, reading him and his actions. “You remember me?” You asked, looking up at him. He looked down at you and for a moment you knew he wanted to “intelligently insult” you, as both of you did in university before, but he smiled at you.

“Only the smartest I recall. You’re with us now. This will be a challenge for you.” He said. You skipped up the steps to the roof with him.

“I’ll be okay.” You said.

Mycroft stepped aside for you to enter the helicopter. He sat next to you and fixed his head gear. You placed your headsets on and Mycroft gave a signal for the pilots to go. You’ve only been inside a helicopter a few times and each time you enjoyed the rush and looking down upon the city and countryside from afar.

Mycroft tapped your arm and motioned to look at his window. You moved over to his side and looked down on the ground.

“This is the countryside. The man who we’re investigating lives...right there,” he said, pointing to a charming large cream colored mansion. Well manicured bushes and trees surrounded it. You quickly took in all the visible exits and windows and doors.

“How did someone get inside with all of that security?” You asked, raising your voice to shield against the loudness of the helicopter.

He looked at you, but didn’t speak. “That’s what we must figure out. The answers are there, but not in plainsight.”

The helicopter began lowering and then softly landed on the grass, causing ripples through the field. You took your headsets off and hopped out after Mycroft. He waited for you by his side and began walking to the back door.

He turned his body towards you and stopped, pulling something out of his pocket. A gun.

“You might need this. Preparation. You know the deal.” He handed it to you. You stuffed it in your waistline hook. Mycroft opened the door and walked inside with you. Naturally, you scanned the proximities and let your mind do the thinking. After walking a few feet you gained a handful of valuable information from this. He continued into a grand lobby area and there on the ground near the main steps lay a body. You quickly walked up to it and intricately studied it. Nothing hit your mind initially, but you felt something coming.

“Shot in the chest. Took him out after a few minutes of heavy bleeding.” Mycroft said.

“He was dying before that.”

“What?”

“Poison. Intentional.”

“Who did this?”

You thought hard and looked everywhere and anywhere. You knew this.

“He didn’t know them. A man. Young. He wore a biohazard suit and dealt with chemicals. He became terrified so he shot him.”

Mycroft folded his arms, still standing. “What was he going to do?”

“I can’t be certain, but probably something with acid.”

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I think you’re right. We’ll go through the house and examine more. When we’re done I’ll jot down all the evidence that you have about it.” He began walking up the steps. You ran up to him.

“What have you been up to?” You asked him.

He looked startled to hear the question, but accepted it. “Just being here and doing my job.” He was awkward like that.

“You like commanding people. I know that.”

He blushed and hung his head. “I know you do too.”

You laughed. “To an extent. This is my first time in London. I never knew about you. You seem important.”

He smiled. “I am.” Mycroft walked in a large bedroom, examining it. You walked to the other side of the house, going in and out of rooms, trying to make more sense of everything. You heard Mycroft mumbling on the phone. He changed a lot and certainly became more mature. Initially, you doubted it was even him. You bent down and looked under beds, carpets, inside drawers and desks and closets. Nothing was alarming too you.

Slam

You stopped in your tracks and kept silent. You heard a door hardly slam from the other side of the house where Mycroft was. Something was wrong. You quietly stepped into the hallway and walked slowly across to the door. As you grew nearer, you heard shuffling and a low voice.

Your heart dropped. Someone was nearby. You didn’t speak, but you placed your hands on the door knob, slowly turning it open. You swiftly moved your body through the narrow opening and bent down next to the wall to listen. You had your hand on your gun, prepared.

Then you heard someone else’s gun click.

You knew someone had Mycroft. Slowly, you crept your head near the corner to see. You pulled your gun out and slowly peeked your head out. There he was, a stranger, standing above Mycroft with a gun pointed at him and blood running from his head. He suddenly looked at you and shot in your direction. You ducked down and came out of hiding, effortlessly shooting at the man. You aimed for his head and squinted your eyes involuntarily. You rolled around on the floor, barely missing his shots. After your first miss, you shot a bullet directly in his head. He fell down.

You ran to Mycroft and took his hands.

“Are you alright?” You asked, squeezing his hands.

He nodded. “You saved my life.”

You smiled. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

He shook his head. “Thank you.” You locked eyes with him and shared a moment of pleasantness. It gave you time to think and look at how much he changed. Never would you ever think in many years to come that you would save your past rivalry. You shifted your focus over to the body lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. Mycroft noticed your dismay and touched your shoulder, offering you comfort.

“We should leave.” He said. “I think this case is closed.”

He stood up and walked out with you. “I hear you’re good with computers.”

You stepped inside a bathroom and grabbed a small town on a hanger and threw it to Mycroft for his head. “More or less. I can teach you some things.” You walked down the steps with him and across the long lobby. He put his arm around your shoulders and you grabbed his hand, enjoying the moment.

“We should catch up.” He said.

“Dinner tonight?”

“Couldn’t be any better.”

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