#I knew the ban was tangled up in a bunch of other shit

[physalian]

Me, who hates tiktok: Fml I wish it would just go away The government: Sure thing! ;) Me: No not like that! The government: Okay we'll bring it back you're welcome :) Me: No not like that!

George Orwell is rolling in his grave.

[reki-of-the-valley]

Baked With Love

Here it is, the promised 8k of pure tooth-rotting fluff

Find it on AO3 here

In all the time that Reki had known Langa, he had never seen him hesitate. From that first day when Langa had taped his feet to a skateboard, he had always jumped headfirst into whatever it was that he wanted to do. He had never hesitated, always going for it and hoping for the best, so seeing him stare between the two jars he had placed on the table, brows furrowed and frowning, it was strange and somewhat endearing. Langa who never cared for consequences was hesitating between two jars of flour, face pulled in concentration rather than his usual spacey and lost expression.

“Dude, they’re both just flour,” Reki said, his chin resting on his folded arms against the kitchen table across from Langa. Both jars had been marked “flour,” but Langa insisted that there was a difference between them. He insisted that his mother used one for her baking while the other was kept for normal cooking.

“I know there’s a difference,” Langa said, brows still pinched, nose scrunching as he groaned. “They’re not the same. They can’t be.”

“Again, we’re just making cookies. Flour is flour and that’s all we need. Doesn’t have to be that baker’s fancy stuff.”

Langa sighed, finally settling for the jar on his right. “If you say so.”

“And I do. I guess you can say I’m a bit of an expert at making cookies.”

Reki grinned, laughing to himself as Langa nodded. Despite it being more of a joke than anything, Langa did trust Reki when it came to baking cookies. He had made hundreds if not thousands of them in his life and Langa always loved watching him whenever he would make. Langa had always been very vocal about his adoration of watching Reki work, be it in his workshop or in the kitchen. And, despite his burning face at the endless praise, Reki always loved the company. He loved having someone with him as he rambled away, his hands doing all the work.

While Reki loved baking with his sisters, it wasn’t the same as when it was just him and Langa. With his family, they were always bustling around the kitchen, bumping into each other, fighting to see who would break the egg – Koyomi won most of the time – and arguing about who would get the bowl and who would get the spoon once the cookies had been put to bake – the twins more often than not shared the bowl while Koyomi and Reki split what was left on the spoon. With his sisters, it was screams and giggles and grabbing at each other. And it was a lot of cleaning, which Reki found himself doing alone most of the time. Baking with his sisters was giving his mother a break, letting her sit down for an hour without worrying about the twins getting bored or asking for her attention. Baking with his sisters was just another activity he did with his family, being the good big brother he knew he had to be. Baking with his sister was Reki trying his best to be a good son, even if he would have rather be in his room or out skating with Langa.

But baking with Langa, it was calm and intimate, a little slice of heaven. It was quiet, low sunlight filtering into the kitchen as Langa sat on the counter, his legs swinging as he listened to Reki’s chatter with a content smile. Baking with Langa was muffled giggles and kisses in the middle of the night, with only the refrigerator light to light up their world. Baking with Langa was just… sweetness and domesticity. It always left Reki with a lightness in his heart, with the wish of baking cookies for Langa for the rest of his life.

Yet tonight, Reki was banned from working in the kitchen. Langa had insisted that he would be the one making the cookies all on his own. “You’re always making things for me,” he had said when Reki got ready to get to work. “I want to make something for you. I want to make these cookies for you, all on my own.”

And his face had glowed the moment Reki nodded, letting himself be pushed into the chair facing the kitchen. Langa, always so serious or spacey Langa, beautiful Langa with his boyish grin and his big, shiny blue eyes, had rarely seemed so excited. It wasn’t the same excitement as when he was on a skateboard, trying out new tricks or going up against strong skaters. Reki couldn’t quite explain the difference, but it was there. Langa seemed genuinely excited, not calculating in his excitement or expecting anything. It was an excitement that had a thousand butterflies blossom in Reki’s chest and stomach. It was an excitement that had him falling even more in love with Langa, childish, happy, and excited Langa.

“So, where do I start?”

Reki buried his face in his arms to muffle his laughter. He shouldn’t have been laughing – he knew Langa must have been pouting, not liking being laughed at – but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it, even if he knew it wasn’t nice to be laughing at someone who was trying so hard to do something new, something nice, something for Reki, but then he was looking so cute, staring at Reki so expectantly, waiting for his instructions. Langa was waiting for Reki to guide him around his own kitchen. Langa always waited for Reki to explain to him new things.

“First things first-” Reki got up from his chair, laughter still lingering in his voice as he made his way to his boyfriend, his fingers slipping between the long, slender fingers he adored- “we tie your hair. I refuse to eat blue cookies.”

Langa tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong with blue cookies? Sure, they look weird and- yeah, the person who made them was weird too, now that I think about it. Weird shit used to happen all the time in that school.”

Reki furrowed his eyebrows as he dragged Langa to the chair in which he had been sitting. “I meant your hair, dude. What the hell is a blue cookie? And why have you seen one? What kind of weird shit went down in Canada?”

Langa shrugged as he took a seat. “Public school. Was weird as fuck sometimes.”

Reki shook his head. There was no point in asking about that. From what he understood about Canadian public schools, it was a free-for-all of kids. From kids writing in sharpie on the floor next to the lockers to kids walking around with a bunch of stickers in their faces, things just sounded so weird. That and there was absolutely no consensus on how the education system worked throughout the country (something about provinces?) or even a consensus on language. Canada was weird, from what Reki understood. And the more Langa talked about whatever he saw, the more Reki felt terrified of Canadian kids.

Langa let himself be backed into the chair, trusting Reki as he always had. He only raised an eyebrow as Reki settled in his lap. But as soon as fingers were running through his hair, pulling it back to assess the situation, Langa melted, his head falling back with the motion. A content smile appeared on his pretty lips as his eyes shut.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, dude.”

“M’not…”

Reki chuckled, still racking his fingers through the silky blue hair. With Langa not paying attention to what he was doing, Reki knew he had free reign. He could do whatever he wanted with Langa’s hair, from childish pigtails like the twins to a low and messy ponytail to… well, whatever Reki wanted, really. And with that many choices, Reki hesitated. On one hand, he could make a fool out of Langa and laugh a little at him (not in a mean way! Just in a Langa-would-look-funny way), while on the other hand, he could try something new, something that would take time, more time for his fingers to be playing with every strand of hair, more time for him to be this close to Langa.

With a little contemplation and quick attempts to see what would hold Langa’s hair best, Reki settled on braiding. If done correctly, it would hold Langa’s hair back, keeping his bangs out of his face while he baked, and it would mean that Reki would have his fingers tangling with Langa’s hair longer than if he just pulled it back in a half ponytail. Reki had done enough braids in his life to know that they took more time and patience than ponytails or pigtails. He knew that Langa would melt under his touch, sighing contently as his hair was being played with, twisted into a braid.

Reki shifted in Langa’s lap, frowning and huffing as he let the hair fall from his fingers. Initially, getting comfortable on Langa’s lap had been an act of petty revenge, hoping to get him to blush the same way Reki had when Langa crashed on his lap a few days prior, but clearly, it hadn’t worked. Langa was just too cool for all of Reki’s tactics at making him feel embarrassed. Langa never turned red, except on rare occasions like when he first told Reki that he liked him or when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time. Langa was too cool for blushing, which Reki found terribly unfair, given how easy it was to get him to blush. Just a smile of Langa’s could get him to flush, nerves twisting in his stomach.

No matter how he looked at it, there was no way Reki was getting any work done from that angle. Not only was Langa extremely distracting, but there was also no good way to braid his hair back without being behind him. So Reki got up only to be pulled back down, Langa’s eyes snapping wide open, hands gripping Reki’s hips.

“Where you going?”

“I can’t tie your hair like this, you clingy baby. I’m not going far if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“But you’re warm. Don’t go away?”

Reki chuckled as he tapped Langa’s nose. “You’re so clingy, you know that?” Langa’s pout was one of the cutest things Reki had ever seen. Langa’s childish dramatic displays were just so fun, so different from how he acted when his walls were up. “But I really gotta get up, dude. Otherwise, you’re never gonna get to those cookies.”

Langa finally gave in, grumbling a little as his grip on Reki loosened, just enough for him to slip away. His sour mood quickly faded away as Reki’s fingers found their way back into his hair, his content smile reappearing, his eyes falling shut once more. Langa might have been too cool to blush, but he still had his weaknesses.

Reki hummed as he twisted the blue hair away from Langa’s face, a braid on each side of his head before coming together in a ponytail at the back of his head. Strands poked out from the braids, too short to be braided back smoothly, but they held rather well as Reki tied them off with one of the many colorful elastics that decorated his wrists.

Those were a courtesy of Koyomi, an annoying little sister who always forgot to tie her hair until it was too late. After a few times of hearing her complain, Reki had gotten into the habit of carrying a few elastics around, which seemed to come in handy for everyone with relatively long hair around him. At first, he had stored them in his bag, then they had migrated to his pockets until they found their way around his wrists. Now, he was just known as that guy that carried hair ties around, which the girls in his class seemed to really take advantage of, asking him for elastics whenever they needed some. And Reki didn’t mind helping out, though it was a little annoying to never get them back. There were certain colors that he really liked having as they matched his hoodies, not that he would tell anyone that.

After one last assessment of his work, Reki grinned as his chin dropped onto Langa’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, his arm draped over Langa’s other shoulder, slightly crouched, but if it meant he could be close to Langa, then it was worth it.

“All done.”

Langa shifted ever so slightly, just enough to be looking at Reki rather than at the kitchen sink. He was smiling, that pretty smile that Reki loved so much.

“You should play with my hair more often.”

A light chuckled rumbled through Reki as he pressed a kiss to Langa’s shoulder. “You really like that, don’t you?”

“It feels nice. You’re good with your hands.”

It was an innocent remark. Reki knew that it had to be, because if it was Langa, there was no other option. There weren’t any dirty undertones to the remark, he knew that, but that didn’t stop the blush from exploding under Reki’s skin. There wasn’t any kind of raunchy joke in what Langa was saying, yet Reki still felt the twist in his gut as he straightened out, brushing off dust that he knew wasn’t there and tugging on the hem of his hoodie. Nervous laughter bubbled out of him, his eyes refusing to focus on anything.

“Right! Okay! So those cookies!”

Langa slowly turned to Reki, eyebrows pinches as he stared blankly. He hadn’t meant it like that, Reki knew that. Langa didn’t have a dirty mind. Langa was a good boy. Langa had never made a sex joke as far as Reki was aware, which meant that he wasn’t going to start now. Especially not when he was staring at Reki, looking so confused.

“What…?” His eyes snapped open, wider than Reki had ever seen in his life. His pale cheeks and ears turned a bright red as he waved his hands around frantically. “Wait! No! I didn’t mean-! I mean, I don’t know, but-!” Langa froze, his eyes squeezing shut as he tensed. He ducked his head as he always did when he embarrassed himself, but his bangs didn’t fall over his eyes as they usually did. There was no curtain protecting him from the outside world as he sat there, curled up on his chair, nails digging into the wood and his face pinched.

With a deep breath, Reki regained his composure. There was still that twist in his gut, that uncertainty, but he wasn’t going to let it linger. Not when Langa was so tense, looking so horrified by his accidental remark.

“S’okay, dude.” Langa’s eyes slowly fluttered open as Reki stroked his cheek tentatively, smiling softly at him. “It’s okay, I know what you meant. I just… I know.”

Despite the verbal reassurance, Langa did not relax. His nails still dug into the wooden chair, his ankles curling around one of the legs of the chair. He seemed so stiff that Reki couldn’t help but press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Reki knew that he didn’t do it enough, that he didn’t initiate enough kisses or cuddles or anything remotely romantic. He always waited for things to happen, never chasing them, and Reki knew that Langa would have liked him to be a little less tense, a little less hesitant, a little less scared. It wasn’t on Langa to start everything, even if Reki was scared. Even if he was terribly afraid of doing something wrong. So maybe that was why he had pressed a kiss to Langa’s mouth, the touch making the boy melt against him, tension fading away slowly.

“Don’t worry about it. Really.” A small smile traced Langa’s lips as Reki pressed another quick peck to his mouth. “But you really should get back to those cookies. You know, if you want them ready before next week?”

Langa’s fingers curled around Reki’s, cold winter against Reki’s natural summer heat.

“Can you… Can you help me a bit?”

Reki nodded enthusiastically as he pulled Langa off his chair. It was so easy to grin around him, natural as breathing. And Reki loved helping. He loved feeling useful to those he cared about. He loved feeling like others could count on him, no matter what. So whatever Langa needed, Reki would be there. Whatever Langa needed him to do, Reki would do it with a grin.

“So, first step is,” Langa stared at his phone, scrolling up and down on the cookie recipe he had found earlier, “heat the oven.”

Reki leaned against the table and watched as Langa fiddled with the buttons and knobs of the oven, his whole face pinched in concentration. Reki felt the tightness in his chest, the butterflies crashing and fluttering against his heart. He felt all his emotions bubbling up in him, ready to spill out, spill until all he knew was Langa’s adorable concentrated expression, spill until all he knew was the sweetness of Langa’s chewed lips, spill until all he knew was Langa. Langa with his serious focus, messing with the oven as if it were a time machine that required the utmost precision to avoid the collapse of the whole universe.

“So, now that that’s done,” Langa straightened out and turned back to Reki, pulling his phone out once more to check the recipe, “we need to start mixing things.”

“Did you read the whole paragraph before starting?”

“Yes.” A beat of silence. Langa glanced down at this phone, eyes skirting over the screen as he quickly scrolled down before bouncing back up to find Reki’s. “Yes, I did.”

Laughter broke from Reki’s lips as he made his way next to Langa, shoulders bumping against each other. “Alright, you tell me what you want me to do and I’m on it.”

One by one, Langa listed off the ingredients that he needed. Reki made his way around the kitchen, opening cabinet after cabinet, trying his best to find where most of the ingredients were hidden. This wasn’t his kitchen; he didn’t know how Mrs. Hasegawa organized her kitchen, but he managed. The flour was already out, sugar had been found, eggs from the fridge, and all the extra little things that made cookies soft and sweet had been eventually spotted. One by one, all the ingredients that Langa had listed off found themselves on the table next to the bowl Langa had taken out earlier.

Reki slid back into his chair, chin resting on his folded arms against the table as he watched Langa measure his ingredients one by one. He read the amounts to Langa who seemed to struggle a little, spilling next to the measuring cups as he poured or splashing as he mixed with vigor. A literal child in the kitchen, but Reki didn’t have the heart to get him to calm down. He seemed to be having so much fun, his blue eyes sparkling like snowflakes under the warm afternoon sun. As long as he wasn’t the one stuck wiping everything down, Reki would let Langa be, let him have fun with his messy attempt at making cookies.

“Dude!” Reki coughed, waving his hand around. “Be more careful with the flour! That shit is volatile!”

“I didn’t think-!” Langa scrunched his nose before sneezing into his arm. “I didn’t think it would explode like that! It doesn’t do that in movies!”

The white cloud fluttered around before falling onto the counters and floor, snowfall right there in the kitchen. The impromptus blizzard had Reki chuckling and rubbing at his nose.

“Watch a cooking show and you’ll see you’re supposed to be careful with your ingredients, man.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t go looking for things that don’t exactly interest me. And all you send me are skating vids, so maybe this is on you. Maybe you,” Langa’s blue eyes narrowed onto Reki, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “should start sending me baking videos instead.”

A sly smirk pulled at the corner of Reki’s mouth as he flicked more flour in Langa’s direction. Langa yelped, sneezing again.

“Maybe I will; no more skating for you until you learn how to be careful with flour.”

Langa shook his head, rolling his eyes and rubbing the flour out of his nose, but he didn’t bother concealing his pretty smile. “Pass me the chocolate.”

Reki slid the bag across the table, but not without stealing a handful of chocolate chips which he immediately stuffed in his mouth. Langa raised an eyebrow at him as he poured into the bowl a lot more chocolate chips than he was probably supposed to, but then again, when was there ever too much chocolate?

“Those are for the cookies, Reki.”

“C’mon! It’s chocolate! You know I never have at home.”

Langa gave the batter a mix, trying to spread the chocolate chips equally throughout the dough. Reki stretched over the table, stealing some of the cookie dough and plopping it in his mouth before Langa could swat him with the wooden spoon he was using.

“Stop stealing my cookies! And stop complaining. You have a bunch of sweet at your place.”

“Never for long.” Reki licked his thumb, getting the last of the dough he had managed to grab. “Everyone hogs them, so I barely get any.”

“I buy you sweet almost every day.”

“A personal choice?”

Reki almost missed the eyebrow raise and the playful smile as Langa turned on his heel, fetching two spoons from a drawer. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“What?” Reki took advantage of Langa’s turned back, stealing more cookie dough. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but raw cookie dough was just too good to pass up. “Never!”

Langa sighed as he came back to his bowl. Reki had successfully taken more dough, but he had left so much evidence that it was impossible for Langa to not know.

Giggles broke from Reki’s lips as he covered his head with his arms, ducking for coverage as Langa hit him repeatedly with his wooden spoon.

“Stop stealing my cookies!”

“Then stop leaving it unattended, dude! And pass the chocolate, I want more.”

Langa huffed, (sorta) gently smacking Reki on the head one last time before handing him the bag of chocolate chips. “Just don’t eat them all. My mom likes having some with her lunches and I don’t want to be scolded when she inevitably believes that I am the one who ate them all.”

Quiet calm fell back in the kitchen, Reki plopping chocolate chip after chocolate chip into his mouth while Langa went over his recipe once more, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Reki watched as Langa muttered English words, his eyes glancing around the kitchen, pointing at everything he put into the dough. And once he seemed satisfied, he got to work, scooping the dough with his two spoons and desperately trying to make them into perfect little balls. Reki watched as Langa struggled, groaning every time he dropped a spoon or when the dough didn’t fall the way he wanted. It was a little sad, just watching him try so hard yet fail so miserably.

Reki felt Langa tense, his breath hitching, as Reki’s arms caging him against the table. His hands found Langa’s, warm palms guiding the repetitive motion of scooping dough with one spoon and scraping it off with the other, while his chin rested against Langa’s shoulder. And under his touch, Langa melted, leaning back into Reki, relaxing against his chest. And just like that, Reki was snuggling his boyfriend, smiling into his shoulder as he helped him prepare the cookies for the oven.

“It’s really just,” Reki did the motion once more, scoop and scrape, his fingers tightening around Langa’s. “Just like that. You don’t have to try to get them all round and cute. They’re gonna melt in the oven anyway.”

Langa huffed, but still, he turned his head just enough to press a kiss into Reki’s hair. “I know how to make cookies, you know. I’ve watched you make enough and it’s not the first time I’m making them.”

“Really?” Reki nuzzled Langa’s shoulder, muffling his giggles. “Because you’re really shit at this, dude.”

“Thanks. Not my fault I rather just buy them instead of struggling to make them.”

“Correction-” Reki pressed a kiss to Langa’s jaw, grinning into his skin- “you steal the cookies I have at home.”

Laughing came as natural as breathing when it came to Langa and his dramatics. Laughing was inevitable when he was whipping his head to the side to look at Reki, his eyes big and blue and bewildered. And when his voice was cracking, pitchy and funny, it was impossible to not laugh, happy and bright.

“You give those to me! And your mom insisted I bring home the last batch!”

“That’s not how I remember it going.”

“Well then, if you’re just going to insult me,” Langa shook Reki off, his arms falling to his side before looping around Langa’s waist, his whole body snuggling closer to his boyfriend’s, “you’re not having any of these.”

“You’re probably gonna end up eating them all anyway, dude.”

Langa huffed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. In fact,” Reki nuzzled Langa’s shoulder once more, bumping his nose against the skin right below Langa’s jaw, “if I remember correctly,” he grinned into the skin, “you said you loved me just yesterday.”

Langa’s hands froze mid-scoop, his whole body tensing against Reki. A wildfire ignited under his skin, the snow-white skin turning to a blaze. Wildfire like never seen before. Langa was too cool for blushing, at least until he was reminded of his sudden love declaration over a late-night meal, Reki offering him the remains of his fries.

Langa’s shoulders untensed, sagging a little as he returned to his cookie dough.

“I meant it,” he whispered, his voice a little scratchy, tainted with embarrassment. “I meant it when I said I love you.”

“I know.” Another smile was pressed onto Langa’s shoulder. “I know you mean it.”

“I love you, Reki.”

Reki’s heart flipped in his chest. Sure, he had brought it up to tease Langa, but hearing him say it again, it left Reki as big a mess as it did the night before. It left him with those thousands of butterflies in his chest and stomach; it left him with giggles threatening to break from his lips; it left him with an explosion of color in his face and ears. Because Langa loved him, truly and wholly, and he meant it. Langa had meant the words he said. He never would have said them if he hadn’t meant them. He wasn’t the type to say what Reki wanted to hear. Langa spoke honestly and freely, even if his words sometimes came out clumsily and tripping over each other.

“I know you do.”

Something squeezed in Reki’s chest as he squeezed Langa’s middle before peeling himself off of the boy. He had wanted to stay there, warm against Langa’s body as he worked methodically, scoop and scrape, but the tray had been filled, 24 cookies laying neatly before the two.

He watched as Langa made his way to the oven, carefully pushing the tray in without burning himself. He was beautiful like that, crouched in front of the oven, looking through the glass door. He was beautiful like that, his hair pulled back, strands starting to slip undone. Langa was beautiful in every way possible, no matter what he was doing. And Reki loved him. Reki loved him in every way possible. Reki loved him, loved his shaky hands, loved his funny concentrated faces, loved his blue silky hair, loved his impulsivity, loved his kindness, loved him from head to toe, inside and out. Reki loved Langa, but whenever the words started to form, they clogged in the base of his throat, refusing to come out. Saying I love you turned out to be a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

“Don’t feel obligated to say it back,” Langa had said the night before, his face flushed as his fingers tangled with Reki’s on his lap. “Only say if when you feel like it. Take all the time you need. And,” his smile faltered for a moment, but as soon as those sky-blue eyes met Reki’s, the smile eased its way back onto Langa’s lips, “if you never feel like saying it back, that’s also okay. I don’t want you saying it because you feel like you have to. Only when it feels right. Say it back to me when you’ll mean it. Because I mean it. I mean it when I say I love you.”

Only when it feels right. When would that be? It always felt like the right moment, but at the same time, it never felt like the right moment. Saying I love you for the first time, it had to be special, didn’t it? It had to be something straight out of a Hollywood movie. It had to be grand gestures and memorable. But then again, Langa had said it in the dead of the night, in a shitty 24-hour burger joint, over a half-empty carton of fries that Reki had pushed his way. Yet his eyes had shined like a thousand snowflakes under the clear moonlight, blurting out that I love youbefore clasping his hands over his mouth. His cheeks had flushed as Reki felt everything inside him twist, scared and excited and, and… and in love. Langa was the one saying the magic words, but Reki was the one who was so madly in love at that moment. Or maybe they both were. Maybe that was why Langa was laughing, grinning, fingers intertwining with Reki’s as he said it slower this time, in a way that was so genuinely Langa. No grand gestures. No fireworks. Just Langa and Reki sunken in a shitty booth in the back of an empty restaurant, giggling and grinning and burning up.

“I guess that’s it for now.” Langa got up, brushing off the remaining flour that had clung to his jeans. “We just have to wait now?”

Something strummed through Reki’s entire body, contracting, squeezing, choking. I love you. It was there, hanging on his lips as he watched Langa straighten out, beautiful Langa with his gorgeous blue eyes skirting over the kitchen. It pounded against his chest as he really took in the scene: a messy kitchen, soft white noise bouncing against the windows, a beautiful boy leaning against a counter. It was there, everywhere. And it had Reki dreaming of a future, one with Langa in it, one where they would have a place all to themselves where they could bake cookies together and just be happy, infinitely happy, forever the two of them.

Reki knew he could be reckless. Not like Langa, but he didn’t care for the scrapes and bruises he’d get when he tried a new trick on his board. He was impulsive by nature. If he wasn’t held back, he would be on a constant shopping spree, adding even more colorful hoodies and t-shirts to his closet. Reki rarely thought things through to the end, but when it came to his heart, he was calculating to a fault. When it came to his heart, he got so caught up in his head that he lost all his impulsivity, all his recklessness. When it came to his heart, Langa had to be the first to act otherwise nothing would happen.

What was Reki afraid of? Everything. Nothing. If he acted on impulse, maybe he’d go too far, too fast. If he acted as reckless as he did when he skated, then maybe Langa would realize that he was too much. And what if what he did was weird? What would he do then? Reki had never been in a relationship, he didn’t know how he was meant to act. And asking Langa what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to act- no, that was too embarrassing. So he let Langa take the reigns on the relationship, even if he knew that Langa would have liked him to be just a little more assertive, just a little more sure of himself, just a little less afraid. He knew that it wasn’t right to have Langa make all the decisions for him, but Reki didn’t want to be pushy. At least, normally he didn’t like being pushy. But with I love you right on the tip of his tongue, love, desire hazing his mind, well…

“Hey.”

Langa jumped, his eyes growing three sizes as Reki pushed him into the counter, arms caging him once more, lips hovering over his. Langa’s breath was warm and uneven against Reki’s burning skin, something close to choked laughter. Langa was almost always the one initiating kisses and cuddles, but when Reki found the courage to act on his impulses, it always caught him off guard, leaving him a blushing mess.

“Hi?”

“You’re pretty, you know that?”

Langa relaxed, his shock starting to fade, unlike his blush. Arms circled around Reki’s waist, pulling him flush against Langa. Pretty laughter broke from his lips as they met Langa’s in a kiss.

“Is that so?” Langa said against Reki’s lips. “I don’t think you say it enough.”

They fit like the two last pieces of a puzzle, perfect against each other. With Langa’s arms around Reki’s waist and Reki’s arms around Langa’s neck, there was no leaving one another. Neither one was ready to let go, heads tilting to the side as the kisses left the realm of innocent pecks.

“You’re,” Reki gasped between kisses, “you’re so freaking beautiful. It’s,” another kiss, hot and wet, “it’s almost unfair.”

Langa was truly intoxicating, from the way his lips would quirk into a smile as he would press another kiss to Reki’s lips, slow and deep, to the way his fingers were fiddling with the stray threads on the hem of Reki’s hoodie. Langa was danger and Reki knew damn well that he was losing all his senses with every kiss that was pressed to his mouth. Langa was everything, good and perfect and so very hot.

It really didn’t take much for Reki to be breathless. All it took was a laugh of Langa’s, a touch of Langa’s, a kiss of Langa’s. Everything about Langa had him soaring high. Just one look with those heavy-lidded eyes, a flash of blue behind those long lashes, it was enough for Reki to lose himself completely to Langa. I love you.

“And you’re,” Reki laughed, panted, almost cried, “you’re so amazing. At absolutely everything.”

“Stop,” a kiss was pressed to the corner of Reki’s mouth, “stop talking.”

Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s mouth was pressed to his once more, their warm breaths mixing. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s cold fingers were digging into Reki’s burning skin as he held him firmly against him. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s tongue was licking at the seam of his lips, pressing against his, swiping against the roof of his mouth. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when he was whimpering into Langa’s mouth, lost to his touch, to his kisses, to his love.

Strands of blue hair slipped through Reki’s fingers, slipping from the elastic as he fisted at it. And with the little tug, Langa’s breath hitched and he melted against Reki, his fingers digging deeper into his sides.

“You,” Reki ran his fingers through Langa’s hair, freeing it from its braids as Langa let out a choked-out moan, “you really like that.”

“No?” More choked-up sounds rang against Reki’s ear as he trailed kisses along Langa’s jaw, his fingers following the natural line of his spine. Another whine as fingers moved from Reki’s hip to his arm, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise, body curving under the touch. “Shut, shut up.”

“Make me.”

It had meant to be a joke, teasing and taunting, but as Langa’s ankle curled around Reki’s, flipping him and crashing his back into the counter, everything in Reki burned. His breath hitched, his heart hammering against his chest as Langa licked at his lips, biting his kiss-swollen lips, eyes darting down as he ran his thumb over Reki’s bottom lip.

“As you wish.”

His voice was raspy, low and… And as Langa’s fingers found their way under Reki’s chin, tilting his head up as he pressed their lips together, Reki felt himself slip. His arms tightened around Langa’s neck as Langa steadied him, hips flush as he held himself up against the counter. Langa. Always Langa. Langa with his addictive kisses. Langa with his sweet kisses. Langa who always knew exactly what he was doing. Langa who always knew exactly what he wanted. Langa who never hesitated. Langa that Reki loved so much. Langa that Reki loved most in the world.

“I,” Reki pulled back as Langa chased, another kiss cutting him off. “I love you.”

The words broke out before Reki could swallow them back, a whisper against Langa’s lips. Lips that froze, the next kiss never coming. A wave of anxiety crashed against Reki’s chest, choking him. Had he messed up? Langa had told him to shut up, but he didn’t. He kept talking because all he did was talk. He was always talking, talking too much when no one wanted to hear him. Reki didn’t know how to shut up and now he ruined a good moment because he just couldn’t hold his words back any longer.

“Really?”

Langa broke into a grin, his eyes twinkling with those blue snowflakes, and Reki couldn’t help the smile that grew against his lips. His voice had come out a few octaves higher, sounding so excited and happy. And as he glowed, shined, beautiful and overjoyed, Reki melted.

“Yeah, yeah, man. I mean,” there was laughter in his voice, lighter and higher than usual as he cupped Langa’s cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin, “yeah, I do mean it. I love you, Langa. Have for a long time.”

“I love you too. So, so much.”

Both broke into giggles against each other, wide grins pressed together in a poor attempt at a kiss. It was hard to kiss when they were both smiling so big, but it was even harder to pull apart. All Reki wanted was to be close to Langa, whispering “I love you” over and over against his boyfriend’s lips. All it took was saying once for Reki to want to say it over and over, every day until he couldn’t speak anymore. He was ready to say it now and forever.

Slow kisses filled Reki’s head and heart. There was no need to rush; they had forever, after all. There was need to be rushed and heated. Things could be taken one step at a time, slow and steady. They could enjoy the calm, peaceful moment, live blissfully in the present. And when Langa was touching him like that, his thumb rubbing comforting circled in the small of Reki’s back, it was wonderful. Peaceful and calm and so, so comforting. Nothing could pull them apart. Nothing could ruin-

Reki yelped as the smoke detector blared throughout the apartment. Langa scrambled away, muttering English curses under his breath as he opened every window in the room before pulling the oven door open to take out the burnt cookies.

Reki simply watched, frozen against the counter, his hand covering half his face. He felt the mixture of horror and laughter bubbling up in his chest as he watched Langa run around, controlling the situation. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the blaring alarm to shut off, the apartment plunged back into silence. And when Langa crashed next to Reki, elbows pressed into the counter and pushing his bangs away from his eyes as he huffed, Reki dropped his head onto Langa’s shoulder, moving closer.

“Well shit, man. Didn’t you put on a timer or something?”

Langa pursed his lips as he glanced at Reki. “I was going to. But then someone,” he flicked Reki’s forehead playfully, but Reki didn’t miss the blush creeping up his neck, “jumped me before I could. And then I forgot.”

Reki giggled into Langa’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle to hug him. When Langa put it like that, it was a little embarrassing. Reki who had always been so careful, who was always so calculating when it came to his heart, who was also always so caught up in his own head when it came to love and Langa, he had let himself get carried away. He had let himself get so carried away that the cookies had burnt. He was the reason their cookies were charred and good for the trash.

“Reki? Reki!” Reki glanced up at Langa who was shifting to face him. Langa held his face so gently, his thumb stroking Reki’s damp cheeks. “Reki, what’s wrong?”

“I burned your cookies,” Reki laughed. He felt the tears in the corner of his eyes, he felt them streaming down his cheeks, but they weren’t from sadness or distress, even if he was gasping, choking, hiccupping as Langa continued brushing the tears away. These were tears of laughter, purely joyful and ridiculous. “Your cookies burned because of me, man!”

“No, no, my love.” Langa peppered kisses all over Reki’s face, from his cheeks to his nose to his eyebrow to his forehead. “It’s not your fault, my love. I would have burned them regardless.”

Reki felt his heart flutter as he raised an eyebrow at Langa. “My love?”

Langa froze mid-kiss, his fingers going rigid against Reki’s cheeks as he tensed. “Too soon?”

Was it too soon? Reki shook his head. It absolutely was not too soon. Reki kept shaking his head, laughter sweet on his lips as he beckoned Langa closer.

“Never.”

It had always been a dream of Reki’s to be called “my love.” It was one of those things he had heard in movies and in tv shows when he was young, and ever since he had wanted to find himself someone who would call him all those cute pet names that they said in his mom’s shows. My love. Sweetheart. Darling. Honey. All those cute little pet names that would make his heart flutter when he thought of someone saying them to him.

With time, he had given up on that dream – “those are just for girls,” his friends had told a few years back when he had first expressed his desire to be called so – but hearing the pet name come out of Langa’s mouth, it had Reki’s heart soaring. They weren’t just for girls. It wasn’t just a stupid fantasy of his. It wasn’t because Langa was there, whispering his name followed by “my love” over and over into his skin, pressing kisses all over his face, damp cheeks and all.

When Langa’s lips met Reki’s in a kiss, it was sweet as ever. Langa’s arms found their home around Reki’s waist while Reki’s fingers fiddled with a stray lock of blue hair, their smiles pressed together. It was just so easy to be in love with Langa, beautiful Langa, beautiful Langa with his funny nose that would bump against Reki’s every time he would pull back to breath before pressing another kiss to Reki’s lips. Beautiful Langa who only seemed to only care for Reki. Beautiful Langa who called Reki his love and meant it.

“You’re,” Reki rubbed his nose against Langa’s affectionately, “you’re so shit at making cookies, you know that?”

Langa shut his eyes as he took a deep breath, his usual half-hearted annoyance appearing on his face. Reki chuckled against him, shaking the two ever so slightly. It was just so much fun to tease Langa, lovingly making fun of him.

“Ever the romantic, aren’t you?”

“You said you liked honesty, so I’m just being honest with you. You’re absolute shit at baking, man, but you’re my shitty baker.”

“Can’t,” Langa inhaled sharply, “can’t I have just one nice moment?”

Reki twirled a lock of Langa’s hair around his finger before pushing himself up, catching Langa’s lips in a kiss. “We are having a nice moment. You just don’t like that you’re finally bad at something.” Another short and sweet kiss was pressed to Langa’s lips. “But I still love you. I love you even if you would be an absolutely shitty househusband.”

“I would be-! Wait, backtrack.” Langa quirked an eyebrow as a sly smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You tell me you love me for the first time like 20, 30 minutes ago and you’re already thinking of marriage?” Reki gulped as Langa leaned in, close enough to feel his every short breath, but far enough to not be able to kiss him quiet. “Moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

“I-!” Reki huffed, straightening himself out. He felt the burn in his ears and in his face, but he persisted. He was not going to be tongue-tied. “You know what? Yeah. I am. But only because you-” he jabbed Langa’s chest, Langa who was laughing so freely and prettily- “started it by saying you wanted to skate infinitely with me! So, who’s moving fast now, huh?”

“Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

“Excuse me?” Reki was taken aback by the statement, especially when the implication hit him like a truck. Or a car. He scrunched his nose, eyes narrowing onto Langa. “Well bold of you to assume I’d be the one proposing.”

“I confessed first!” Langa’s eyes were big and round as he held a hand to his heart. “And I said I love you first! The least you can do is… It’s the least you could do!”

“Fine!” Reki pushed himself up onto the counter, his legs dangling in the open air. His head fell to the side as he swayed side to side. A grin stretched across his face as he stuck his tongue out playful. “I’ll propose the day you manage to make me an amazing cookie. The best cookie I’ll ever eat.”

“Oh c’mon! Low blow,” Langa whined, all pouty and cute. “That’s gonna take forever, Reki.”

“Then start working on it, Pretty Boy.”

Langa huffed, peeling himself off of the counter only to squeeze his way between Reki’s knees. Determination sparkled in his eyes as his entire focus fixated on his boyfriend. His fingers dug into Reki’s thighs as the boy’s ankles hooked behind his back, pulling his hips into the counter. And as soon as Reki’s hands were cupping his face, all signs of a pout faded.

“You know what?” Reki hummed, playing with the blue bangs as he had the habit of doing. It kept his hands busy while he focused on his boyfriend’s moving mouth. “I’m gonna make you the best fucking cookie ever and then you’ll be stuck with me until the end of infinity.”

A smile pulled on the corners of Reki’s mouth as he leaned down, meeting Langa in the middle for yet another sweet kiss. He had lost count of how many they had shared in the past hour or so, but Reki couldn’t be bothered by that. When it was just him and Langa, it didn’t matter how many kisses were shared, as long as they could be close, smiling and having fun. But it definitely felt good to be able to kiss Langa so freely, alone in the apartment. There was nothing to worry about as Langa’s fingers dug into his jeans, pushing himself up, chasing Reki’s mouth every time he pulled back to laugh. There was nothing to worry about as his fingers raked through Langa’s hair, playing with the locks as he got to kiss his boyfriend. There was nothing to worry about, not even the thousands of butterflies that erupted in his stomach, not even the giggles that threatened to break from his lips, not even the clumsy attempts at copying Langa and the clumsier attempts at making Langa feel as good as he did. Reki didn’t have to worry about anything because Langa too seemed lost to his touch, to his kisses, to his love. Because just like Reki, Langa was in love.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed against Langa’s lips, pretty and pink and oh so sweet. “I can’t wait to love you forever.”

[lovelyirony]

"a single thread of gold/tied me to you" for ironhusbands?💛

If there is one thing that James Rhodes cannot stand, it is “love at first sight.” In his professional and personal opinion, there is no such thing. It is simply a concept that Disney invented so they could make cutesy stories about princesses finding their princes immediately and give people hope about love, but in the end it is all about the money. 

“You’re a cynic,” his sister Jeanie tells him over breakfast. She flings a stray Cheerio at him. “You are a cynic and you’re never gonna date someone because they’re going to think you suck.” 

“People are going to date me and realize that I’m a good, realistic choice,” James responds, sticking his tongue out and stealing a drink of her orange juice. “People are going to date you and you’ll be disappointed because you watched too many romantic movies and you let it taint reality.” 

“Loser.” 

“Dork.” 

And then he’s in college. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t meet Tony Stark for two years despite the fact that every single year, they live in the same building on different floors. He has had to evacuate about twenty different times because Tony cannot stop himself from doing experiments in his room. 

The third year, James is an RA and required to live with one of the residents because of “experimental tendencies.” They don’t elaborate on why he’s stuck with a roommate, what the tendencies are, or who he is. 

“You’ll know,” comes the email from the coordinator, and he has never wanted to curse so badly in an email before, but here he is. 

But he’ll deal with it. Just like how he’s going to deal with everything this year. 

-

He thought he would get the room to himself for a little while before everyone moved in and brought everything and he would check them in. 

But no. 

There’s his roommate, lounging on a bed, and grinning. 

“Simply enlightening to meet you, James. They told me I could come back if I had a trusted roommate.” 

“And they stuck you with me?” 

“Well they were going to stick me with some dude who got the email, and then immediately transferred to Dartmouth. So I think you were the second option.” 

“Great.” 

He hates life, maybe just a little bit. 

Tony wants to do things. Which is fine, but he isn’t really in the mood to have the conversation of the fact that he can do things, but he doesn’t want to do them. He has to focus on being an RA and preparing for the Air Force. 

“Why prepare for that when you could be living?” Tony asks, lounging on Rhodey’s bed. 

Oh yeah, that’s new too. Rhodey. Apparently, “Jim,” “James,” and “Rhodes” were unacceptable nicknames. 

What is acceptable is Rhodey. And of course, the “honey bunches of oats” and “loveliest RA of all time in the history of MIT” and “sugar-puff” and “sweetness overload” 

He’s responding to all of them, by the way. 

Rhodey didn’t think his mental health would get this bad by the beginning. He had actually scheduled it to be around October. 

- 

And then the students come. There are nervous freshmen, the sophomores who don’t say anything as they move in and get settled, and the returning juniors and seniors greet Rhodey and Tony with familiarity and laugh about the posters that Rhodey’s worked hard on. 

“So, we’re having joint-RA’s or something?” Miles asks, throwing his comforter over his bed. 

“No, we’re not,” Rhodey says, hoping his expression is somewhere along the lines of not-showing-emotion. “Tony’s just...” 

“I’m simply too exhausting for Housing to deal with anymore, so I have a babysitter,” Tony says with a wink. “And who better than our lovely Rhodey?” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sugar-puff?” 

“Still no.” 

Miles snorts. 

“This year should be good. Tony, you gonna pull any fire alarms this year?” 

“Rhodey has expressly banned experiments in the building, unfortunately,” Tony sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t want everyone to bond over having to leave at two in the morning...” 

“Nothing says bonding like hating a rude wake-up call,” Rhodey says, and Tony nods. “We’ll let you get all moved in, Miles. Remember that floor dinner is at six!” 

“You got it!” 

Rhodey gives Tony a look. 

“You know, I can do this on my own.” 

“Aw shutterbug, I’m not gonna let you.” 

“Are you really this intent on following me around?” 

“Well, what if I want to overtake your position next year? What if you tragically get a raging headache and it’s up to me to know what to do? What if your mother kidnaps you and never lets you come here again?” 

“I’m sure the college kids will be fine,” Rhodey stresses. “And I’ll still have access to email and the groupchat, genius.” 

Tony just laughs. 

“Alright, okay. I gotta go get some shit for my new class. The teacher sent out an email stating that the textbook is mandatory, and we have to do book work. This feels like eighth grade all over again.” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Is it for Professor Casper?” 

“Yeah, did you have him?” 

“Yeah, you don’t need the book. You can find it online for free, and he never collects the book work. It’s a waste of time to get the book.” 

“You’re an angel-and-a-half, love of my life,” Tony says. “And for that, I’ll snag an extra pudding for you at the dining hall.” 

“Is it vanilla or chocolate this time?” 

“Chocolate with cookies in it.” 

“Oh my god, seriously? Already?” 

“Guess they must have had a jump,” Tony teases. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

- 

Tony has a specific way of getting people to open up and actually talk with others that Rhodey envies. 

If Tony wasn’t so hellbent on convincing the group that if Miles and Kamala create a distraction, they could totally sneak out one of the pictures of the mascot. 

“We are not doing that the first week,” Rhodey says. “Maybe the last.” 

“It’s a beaver,” Tony whines. “Who’s gonna miss it, a Canadian?” 

“It’ll be the floor bonding activity,” Gwen says, finishing off her fifth (maybe sixth) slice of pizza. “Better than talking about your feelings about the campus or whatever.” 

“No.” 

“We’ll convince him soon,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. “Also, who here is a freshman? I have some advice regarding the math classes and which teacher you want...” 

- 

Rhodey does have to admit, that sometimes it’s easier to have Tony around, who is so willing to stay up until the late hours because of some stupid drama or to help Peter at his chemistry homework and also ease his anxiety about leaving his Aunt May all alone. 

Tony isn’t all wild and crazy as stories have led him up to be. 

"I wore out all my crazy freshman year after going to two frat parties and deciding that no one knew anything about how to have fun,” he declared. “I mean, come on. Why have beer pong when you could quiz people about obscure fashion facts?” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Don’t make that the next game night. Hey, what do you think about having a movie night this Friday? I’m thinking something not scary, we’ve been doing a lot of those.” 

“It is October, what do you mean not scary?” 

“Some of our residents don’t like scary,” Rhodey reminds him. “Honestly, I think we could do with a bit of Halloween fun.” 

“Hocus Pocus? Double Double, Toil and Trouble? If you want to be slightly scared of old women and clown parties, I’d recommend it.” 

“You weren’t scared of clowns beforehand?” 

“Of course not, I wanted what they have; the ability to fit eighteen people in a car.” 

“Couldn’t you just gut the car?” 

“Not the same effect, honey-pie. Not the same effect.” 

Miles and Peter both end up lobbying for Hocus Pocus, with little to no competition other than a promise that the other choice would be shown later on in the semester. 

They’ve shoved all the chairs together and multiple people have brought out their own chairs, and Tony saves a seat for Rhodey under the premise of “Rhodey organized it, he gets a seat.” 

It’s a tough squeeze, and Tony and Rhodey get all tangled up together. 

Tony smells like expensive cologne and coffee, and he grins up at Rhodey and maybe the lights from the TV aren’t bright enough, but for a moment his heart skips a beat. 

Well. Shit. 

When he goes home for Thanksgiving break, Tony seems a bit...sad. 

“What, your mom cook the worst turkey in the world?” he jokes. 

"Sure,” Tony says, eyes unfocused. “Yeah.” 

"Dude, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning. His smile brightens, eyes crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be fine, buttercup?” 

Rhodey gives him a look. 

“I’m gonna call you when I get home, okay? You better answer.” 

“I always answer to you,” Tony says, and damn Rhodey’s mind shouldn’t be going where it is. 

Rhodey waves, gets in his car, and thinks about how Tony most likely has a problem on his mind, how he should probably not room with him, and his Aunt Ada’s green beans. 

God, he loves those green beans. 

- 

Tony is alone for Thanksgiving. Jarvis and Ana got an opportunity to visit Aunt Peggy in England, and he knew that they hadn’t seen her in two years. He didn’t want to be selfish, have them stay just for him. 

So, it looked like deli turkey sandwiches were in his future. If there’s still some soda in the fridge, maybe that too. 

He sighs, and turns towards the lab. Dum-E’s not even here, as he didn’t fit in the travel car, so Tony let him loose on the floor to “keep guard” over the dorms and make sure that no one broke in or stole the cords that he knows he accidentally left in the common room. 

The odd thing is, he had almost told Rhodey. Almost let him know that he’d be alone for Thanksgiving, but is that weird? That’s weird, right? To tell people your emotions just...it’s so messy. 

They have to deal with it, you have to deal with the fact that they’re dealing with it, and then other people know that you both are dealing with it and it’s just a whole mess of epic proportions, you know? 

-

Rhodey finds out on Thanksgiving, when they’re doing the parade on the TV and there’s a new snippet on the gossip channel when they go on commercial break. 

Howard and Maria Stark, vacationing off the Mediterranean Coast. 

“It’s reported that Tony Stark has preferred to spend his time in the vacation home,” the news reporter said, her smile wide and placid. 

“Tony’s lucky,” Mama says, wrapping golden yarn around her fingers as she works on another sweater. (A small one, a tiny one. It’s for the new baby in the family for Christmas.) “He tell you about it?” 

“He’s not there,” Rhodey says numbly. 

“He’s not?” Dad says, eyes raised over the newspaper. 

“No.” 

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Dad asks. 

“No, no he didn’t.” 

“Well then. Next time he’ll come with us.” 

Rhodey nods. 

“Christmas?” 

“Clear it with his parents if they’re not spending time together.” 

“Got it.” 

- 

Rhodey’s Thanksgiving is...nice. He can’t stop thinking about Tony going alone. 

So he calls him. It’s two in the morning, he might be asleep, and Rhodey’s not sure if he got the “eight” in the last four digits right or not. 

“Howard’s out, who is it?” comes a sleep-addled voice. 

“Good thing I’m not looking for Howard, Tones.” 

“Rhodey? Why are you calling me?” Tony asks, and Rhodey can imagine his eyes lighting up and that’s...that’s something. 

“You spent Thanksgiving alone, I wanted to see how you were.” 

“Aw, checking in your residents?” 

“Checking in on you.” 

Tony stills for a moment at the phone. 

Besides Jarvis, no one had ever really checked in on him. 

“Um, I’m fine?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, but I don’t really like any of the foods that people usually have, so I’ve been fine. I ordered wraps from my favorite place.” 

“Good to hear, good to hear.” 

There’s a silent pause for a moment, the one where they both try to find something to say. 

“Listen,” Rhodey says. “If you’re ever stuck for a holiday alone, you’re coming with me, okay?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your family,” Tony says softly. 

“They all wanna meet you. Jeanie says she can kick your ass at ice hockey!” 

“You guys can actually play ice hockey?” 

“With limited degrees of success.” 

“Oh, now that I gotta see some time.”

- 

They come back to college, and Tony is back to his usual antics, greeting everyone who comes through the elevator with a shower of shredded paper. 

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland! Next stop: suffering through finals!” 

“Ugh,” Kamala groans, “stop it. Stop making me think. I have to memorize Byronic poetry. Do you know how boring that is?” 

"Speak for yourself, I have to build a wooden chair,” Riri whines. “Who works with wood these days? It’s so old-fashioned.” 

“Create the most bitching chair alive,” Tony says. “And I’ll help you with the necessary tools. Your professor isn’t expecting much, mainly just that it can support the weight of two people, you’ll be fine. Kam, Byronic poetry is not that bad, you will be good. We will bake cookies.” 

“Can we even bake cookies? I thought our floor got banned from kitchen usage,” Peter says. “Hey Rhodey.” 

“Hey kiddo,” Rhodey says. “First of all, yes we are banned from the kitchen. Second, we’re only banned and get in trouble so long as they know we’re there. And since more than half of us are nocturnal creatures and I am willing to wake up to help, we can bake cookies.” 

There are cheers around the room, and Tony mocks offense. 

“You don’t trust me to help the future youth?” 

“Given that we’re not allowed to rent out any more equipment from the front office? Yes.” 

“You wound me, darling.” 

“Only as much as kitchen equipment goes, sweetheart.” 

Tony grins. 

“Aw, you missed me.” 

“Yeah, I did. Now come on, you gotta help me with a billboard about the movie night this Friday. We thinking a romantic comedy or something mildly terrifying but probably won an award?” 

“Mildly terrifying!” Gwen calls from her dorm. “If we watch two people falling in love I’ll choke! We’ve been doing it all year!” 

“We’ve only watched, like, three rom-coms?” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, as if he’s missed something completely obvious. 

“You don’t get it. I’ll try again later. Hey, are we doing floor dinner tonight?” 

“They’re serving pizza sandwiches, so obviously,” Tony says. “We will feast like kings.” 

- 

Christmas is a festive time for Tony. He loves it, and goes overboard with decorations. Rhodey lets him, because you can’t stop Tony once he loves something (and Rhodey is kind of. Fond of him). 

Pepper comes up from the fifth floor, whistling. 

“Damn, Jim. I knew you would do a good job with decorations, but not this good. Is this...did you buy a miniature village? How was this budgeted?” 

“It wasn’t,” Rhodey says. “Tony’s really into Christmas and the floor convinced him that the theme should be Christmas Village. He’s been crafting identities for each villager instead of studying for any exam. The craft store employees know him by name now.” 

“Well, we all have our vices. You two seem to get along well. Housing is pleased that he hasn’t blown up anything yet.” 

“If they try to serve cheese ravioli again, he might.” 

“That’s a problem for Dining,” Pepper reminds him.  

“Still, it’s abominable. Where did they get them, bottom of the Hudson River?” 

She snorts, adjusting her shirt. 

“Probably, but hey. They still got eaten, even if that one freshman threw them all back up at the entrance.” 

“It was payback, they were vile.” 

Tony waltzes into the lobby, arms filled with glittering tinsel. 

“We are not letting you hang that,” Pepper says, gaping at it all. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of tinsel?”

“We’ll manage!” Tony says. “Also, are you free at six-thirty?” 

“No, that’s when we’re getting dinner on my floor, what do you need?” 

“Just that little tidbit of knowledge,” Tony says, looking down at his phone. 

A message buzzes from the groupchat, and Rhodey glances at it: 

We are a go for the real Christmas tree. I have the vacuum, and a believable lie. Rhodey’s gonna tell us when the RA on duty is gonna come so we can hide it. 

Rhodey looks at Tony, grinning. He smiles right back. 

“Is there some weird roommate telekinesis I’m missing here?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes,” Rhodey says. “We’re discussing dinner plans.” 

Another text from Harley: 

I’m already picking one out with Peter. I have good taste. When is the ornament-making party? 

Pepper looks at them. 

“You’re planning something that I probably would have to disapprove of. I’ll tell people I got your floor watched tonight.” 

“Pepper, light of my life, my absolute sunshine? You’re the best,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey-darling, help me with tinsel?” 

He can’t say no. Simple as that. 

That is how tinsel gets strung throughout his hair as he’s watching Tony climb onto chairs that shouldn’t be climbed on to hang it from everywhere. 

“People deserve to have a good-looking Christmas,” he says. “Besides, I wanna win the decoration contest.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Okay, okay. I think we got it in the bag.” 

Later on in the week, Tony can be seen flitting about from room to room with help and jokes to lighten the mood. 

Rhodey has to admit, being an RA with Tony around is...nice. Better than he thought. 

And maybe he has feelings. He’s not going to say anything about it. After all, they’re roommates. He also isn’t allowed to have a relationship with anyone on the floor, regardless of anything. 

It doesn’t mean every RA follows it. God knows Sharon’s snuck down to the fourth floor to see Sam near-about every night, and her residents usually keep it a pretty good secret. 

Still. There’s also everything else to consider, and the fact that he doesn’t even know if Tony likes him like that. 

He doesn’t have to focus on it. 

- 

At least, not until the week of finals when he’s dying and Tony’s made him peppermint hot chocolate and sits on his bed, just about an inch away from his notes for his history class. 

“Do you remember what you told me on the phone?” Tony asks softly. 

“You up to compete against Jeanie for this year’s ice hockey championship?” Rhodey asks, smiling. 

Tension releases from Tony’s shoulders. 

“Only so long as you’ll have me.” 

“Always, genius. Always.” 

- 

After the last resident leaves for the holiday and Rhodey checks in with those who are staying, he and Tony hit the road, dragging suitcases behind them. 

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” Tony asks. “I can always find a hotel along the way...” 

“Mama wants to meet you, I keep telling them a ton about you,” Rhodey says, laughing. “They told me they want to hear your side of the great Glitter Debacle.” 

Tony laughs. 

“You mean the truth?” 

“Uh, I’m sorry, how are you going to convince them that green glitter was needed? And that you could clean it out of carpet?” 

“Determination and grit?” 

Rhodey laughs again as they pull onto the highway. 

- 

After a couple of hours, they make it to Rhodey’s home. His sister comes out, hugs for both. 

“Good to meet you Tony,” Jeanie says. “I’ve heard a lot, and I think we’re going to get along awesomely after I tell you every single embarrassing thing that Jim’s ever done.” 

“Only if I get to share stories too,” Tony teases, grinning. “Aw, they call you Jim?” 

“What do you call him?” Jeanie asks. 

“Jim-Jam, angel-dear, sugar-puff, Rhodey. You know, the usual.” 

Jeanie snorts, taking one of Rhodey’s bags. 

“Calling you the first one from now on.” 

“Tony did you have to let her hear any of those?” Rhodey asks, exasperated in a teasing manner. 

“Of course I did,” Tony sing-songed. “Now after you, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hug the living daylights out of you.” 

- 

It’s not until Rhodey gets all settled in and Tony is downstairs competing with his dad in a round of chess that Jeanie sits on his bed, the intention to annoy. 

But it’s...different. She looks at him. 

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” 

Rhodey stills. 

“You wouldn’t have told him he could come here if you didn’t.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m always right,” Jeanie says, flipping braids over her shoulder. “Nice of you to finally realize that I’m the smart one.” 

Rhodey doesn’t say anything as she saunters out of the room. 

He makes the decision not to tell Tony. 

If it goes wrong and if Tony says no, he doesn’t want it to be an awkward family event but more importantly, the most awkward rest of the year ever. He can say it as they’re moving out, and that’s that. 

He tells Jeanie as such. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she says as they’re preparing the soup for dinner.” 

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Rhodey says. “I do believe in love. There’s a difference.” 

There’s a hell of a difference. 

First sight, you don’t know everything. The second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on? Oh you learn so much more, and they become that more important. 

He learns that he doesn’t mind picking up tinsel, so long as Tony is laughing and singing along to all of the worst Christmas songs ever, and maybe. Just maybe he could picture looking at Tony underneath the fairy-lights that they hung in the dorm room for all time. 

Love is terrifyingly exhilarating, even when it isn’t supposed to be. 

Rhodey did not think his heart would race so much as Tony listened to his Mama talk about her wedding china, about the utter disaster that his father was. 

“He forgot his tie,” Mama said, smiling. “Oh my lord, my mother had a cow about that. I thought he looked kind of dashing.” 

Tony’s eyes drift towards the wedding pictures, which are slightly shaky, but everyone had such wide smiles. 

It’s a far cry from the publicity photos from the Stark wedding, Rhodey remembers the solemn expressions, the stuff tuxedos. 

“I love it,” Tony says softly. He looks at Rhodey across the table, setting down the final plate. “Tell me more, Mrs. Rhodes.” 

“Call me Mama, honey, Mrs. Rhodes is for people I don’t like that much. I think you’re gonna be my new favorite.” 

“Even over me?” Jeanie says, grinning as she kisses Dad on the cheek. “I’m your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite until now,” Mama says. “Don’t think I don’t know that you skipped out on setting the table because Tony was here and graciously offered.” 

“It was nothing,” Tony says. “Just happy to help. Thank you for letting me stay at your home for the holidays.” 

“We’re always lucky to have guests,” Dad says, setting down the main dish. “Now let’s eat.” 

Family dinner is a brand new concept to Tony. He’s had maybe four or five of them, and the majority of which were staged for some holiday shoot or some “celebrating American values” shoot. 

It was awkward, weird, and he didn’t get why. 

Now, he does. Jeanie has been steadily moving mashed potatoes away from Rhodey’s plate, and Mama caught her eye and winked, distracting him with talk about his college major and news about the neighbors. 

Mr. Rhodes watches it all with a careful eye and a lax smile. 

After dinner, they play cards. 

It should be boring, but Jeanie puts on an old record and Rhodey keeps trying to count cards, and Tony didn’t think you could count cards in a game of Spoons. 

“You can’t, he’s just a try-hard,” Jeanie stage-whispers. 

“You-” 

Jeanie laughs, rolling herself out of Rhodey’s grasp as he chases her around the family room. Tony leans back into the couch, and shouts with surprise as Jeanie trips Rhodey into the couch. 

His body twists, and Rhodey’s facing him on the couch and they’re close and with the fire roaring in the fireplace and the Christmas lights outside shining through the windows, it’s almost magic. 

It is magic, but Rhodey is kind of terrified of that. 

Tony breathes in, breathes out. 

“Hello sugar-puff,” he says. 

“Hello genius,” Rhodey says, a smile on his face. 

Oh. 

The night does not get much sleep. 

Tony doesn’t sleep anyway, but Rhodey finds that quite often he can’t sleep without some softly-playing rock in the background, doesn’t matter if it is a highly-questionable AC/DC song. That and Tony softly murmuring about his plans, and it’s like a personalized lullaby. 

Rhodey cannot sleep. Tony’s in the guest room, and he can’t sleep. 

There’s a soft knock on his door. 

Tony’s there in shorts and a t-shirt that’s probably expensive, but he’ll never say if it is or not. 

“Can I...I can’t sleep.” 

“Get in here, Tones. I can’t sleep either.” 

The bed is a tight squeeze, but they make it work. 

Rhodey whispers until he drifts off to sleep about Christmas and school and everything else. 

Tony watches with quiet eyes, interjecting with his own stories occasionally. 

They fall asleep tangled up together, and Rhodey doesn’t mind it one bit, not as he pulls Tony in closer. 

-

Waking up is bittersweet, honestly. Rhodey has Tony in his arms, and that’s...that’s perfect. He thinks this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened in his lifetime. 

“It’s too early, darling,” Tony groans. The light from outside is already peeking through the blinds, and he has stuffed his head right back into a pillow. 

“Jeanie’ll be here soon to bother us for Christmas breakfast,” Rhodey says. “And unless you want her pouncing on the bed and landing on wrong everything, we better get down there.” 

Tony smiles sleepily, stretching. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep in your room, honey-bunch.” 

“No problem,” Rhodey said. “Missed the constant AC/DC and late-night discussions about robotics.” 

“Not like I did much talking, Mr. Sap,” Tony teased. “Or was it me who mentioned that they had a favorite plate for dinner?” 

“Listen, it’s superior and you did not once interrupt that story to complain. I think I did a great job explaining it.” 

Tony laughs. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed, okay?” 

“Not until after present unwrapping,” Rhodey says. “We stay in pajamas.” 

“I’m cold,” Tony whines. 

Rhodey chucks his sweatshirt at him. 

“Then here you go.” 

Tony’s eyes light up as he shrugs it on, wiggling as he brings it up to his nose. It shouldn’t be that cute. But it is. 

“You are the light of my life.” 

Rhodey laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe. Now come on.” 

They head downstairs together, and they both get swept up into the speed of things, with Jeanie racing around the house and telling Tony that he got treats too, they just didn’t have a back-up stocking. 

“Hush,” Mr. Rhodes says, handing Tony a carefully wrapped gift. “After breakfast, we’ll go ahead and open it.” 

He smiles, and Rhodey thinks it’s the best thing he’ll ever see. 

- 

Christmas gifts, Rhodey thinks, are his new favorite thing to see Tony interact with. 

It’s painfully obvious that he’s never really had any personal gifts, anything that reminds people of himself. He carefully unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it. 

“You nerd,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Come on, show us what you got.” 

Tony laughs as he opens a box with two coffee mugs from the rest of the family, emblazoned with “Rhodes” on one cup, and the other being a simple red with gold trim. 

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re feeding his coffee addiction,” Rhodey answers. 

“Like you aren’t doing the same,” Jeanie teases. “You made him his cups of coffee this morning.” 

“That is because I have trained him well,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey, here’s my present to you, open it.” 

He’s nervous. 

Both of them are, but Tony especially so. 

He told Rhodey once that he’s not good at shopping for other people. He tends to have the phrase “go big or go home” permanently circling in his mind, and it can lead to...complications. 

(Rhodey remembers the overhaul of his closet for his birthday, complete with a visit from a rather well-known designer.) 

Inside is a beautiful jacket. It’s all patchwork, artfully sewn together with embroidery thread spelling out “James” at the lapel. 

“I commissioned Janet,” Tony says, smiling softly. “She wants you to still walk in her fashion show, by the way. Says you’re a model.” 

Rhodey snorts, shrugging on the jacket. 

“You helped with this, right?” Rhodey says. “I can see it in the gold thread you got on the sleeves.” 

“I may have had some creative input.” 

“I love it,” Rhodey says. “Now here’s mine.” 

Tony breathes, and Rhodey wonders if this gift will be enough. He feels a bit stupid, it doesn’t seem like that great of a gift, in retrospect- 

It’s a puzzle. 

A puzzle of their favorite cafe and restaurant to go to at MIT. It was in a shop window, and Rhodey could tell that Tony would love it. 

On top is a scarf, since Tony gave away his last one to another student in their philosophy class. 

“I love it,” Tony breathes, tackling Rhodey in a hug. “I love it, I love it! We have to do the puzzle after this.” 

Mrs. Rhodes sends her husband a look. 

Yeah, Tony would be around for a long time. 

- 

They set up the puzzle on the floor of Rhodey’s room, clearing away any luggage. It’s silent for a while, Tony moving around the pieces and Rhodey looking for edge pieces. 

They work closely together, side by side. 

Rhodey can’t stop staring. 

He should be able to. He’s stopped himself before, but now? 

Sunlight is coming in through the window, playing around Tony’s fingers as he nimbly picks up puzzle pieces, and this is the eternity that Rhodey wants so badly. If he died right now, he thinks he would choose for Heaven to look like this. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes looking up. He took his contacts out, and now he’s just in his tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that he secretly likes more and Rhodey loves. 

“I’m in love with you,” Rhodey blurts out, because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Tony is and how much he loves him. 

He realizes that this could very well be considered a mistake. Because they still have to live together and drive back together and it won’t be the same, and the residents will notice no matter how well they both act--

Tony pops his head right under Rhodey’s chin. 

“Kiss me?” 

That’s all it takes. 

They mess up part of the puzzle, but that’s okay. They find they don’t mind it too much. They can work on it later, when Tony’s done getting Rhodey out of his new jacket and Rhodey works his hands underneath Tony’s sweatshirt. 

-

Mama takes one look at them for dinner and grins. 

“Jeanie, you owe me a night of dish-washing.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mama!” Rhodey hisses, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Tony just cackles, and elbows Rhodey out of the way so he can get to his chair at the table. 

“Couldn’t have fooled you for a second, could we?” Tony teases. 

“Not at all,” Mama states proudly. 

Rhodey rolls his eyes and squeezes Tony’s hand under the table. All will be well. 

- 

When they both get back to college, none of their residents are surprised, at least not until they have to have a “knocking before entering” policy put in place after one particular late morning. 

[serendipitous-magic]

⭐ that brief Billy POV in RS3

(For the “writing commentary” thing)

Hoo boy, I gotta get inside Billy’s head again. I’ll have to take a shower afterwards.

Here goes.

-_-_-_-

Chlorine is a shitty excuse for saltwater.

Billy is very water-oriented. I feel like he would miss the ocean a lot - and that’s even before the flashbacks we got from that-one-season-that-never-happened. It makes perfect sense to me that he would be drawn to the one place in Hawkins that’s even marginally similar to his old home (that being the pool).

Like everything else in this town, the Hawkins Public Pool is a pathetically small, second-rate, wannabe imitation of the real thing. But it’s the closest thing they have, and he’s stuck here.

Anyway, it does have its perks. He gets paid to work on his tan and play the hero, doesn’t he? And the lifeguard chair provides a splendid view of all the best sights that Hawkins has to offer. 

Here comes one such sight now.

Again, it makes perfect sense to me that Billy would be drawn to the pool and enjoy his job as lifeguard. He clearly sees himself as a Big Fucking Deal (see: the Halloween party scene in S2), and he likes to believe that he’s some suave, macho, big-deal Big City Guy who’s the main character - the hero - in his own story, where circumstance has trapped him in this less-than-ideal setting. But he’s the hero. Specifically, the manly, handsome, cool action hero - someone who should be drifting around LA in a car chase scene or saving the damsel in distress with his shirt artfully ripped from the climactic showdown near the end of the movie. That’s where he should be, in his opinion. But the thing is, he’s stuck here, in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, with a bunch of hicks and nothing to do and nowhere to go as far as the eye can see. So he’s doing the best he can with the circumstances he’s stuck in.

Heather Holloway is a sweet little number. Nothing to write home about, and her cherry-red lifeguard suit does her figure no real favors. But she smirks at Billy as they pass each other, twirling her whistle around one finger, and her tits jiggle just slightly in her suit as she sweeps through the crowd towards the locker rooms. A wave of coconut sunscreen and some sparkling, expensive perfume washes past him in her wake.

She’s the kind of girl he would have taken for a midnight swim, back home. 

Objectification. We’ve seen Billy do it several times, and what better place to do it than at the pool? He’s a shit person. (But then, we all knew that.)

Then again, maybe she’d be interested in a midnight swim here. They’re staff, after all - and Billy just happens to have a key to the pool. Maybe she’s into skinny dipping. He might just find out what’s under that shapeless swimsuit.

I needed to slip in the fact that Billy has a pool key and might come here after hours. You know. For reasons.

Billy sticks the whistle between his teeth and gives a sharp blast.

“Hey, Lardass!”

@the-angry-pixie pointed out that this might be a Stand By Me reference (in the actual Netflix season, not the fic), which would be cool. Or, rather, it would be a The Body reference (the novella by Stephen King on which Stand By Me was based), since The Body was released in ‘82, while SBM wasn’t released until ‘86 (a year after S3). I’m not sure if Billy is the type to have read The Body, but I liked the reference all the same, so I kept that little piece of dialogue.

The tubby kid on the far side of the pool screeches to a halt, eyes comically wide. Like a deer in the headlights. A fat, fat deer.

Dunno if I like that little section, looking back. That last sentence may not have been necessary, and I’m not sure if I think it adds anything, but oh well. The chapter has already been posted, so I’ll let it go lol.

“No running on my watch,” Billy says, sternly. He doesn’t even need to yell. The pool has gone respectfully quiet. “I gotta warn you again and you’re banned for life. You wanna be banned for life, Lardass?”

The kid’s head shakes back and forth.

“Didn’t think so.”

Another blast of the whistle, and the chatter starts up again. Beach balls bounce high into the air. Pool floats knock together like lethargic bumper cars. Some kids near the shallow end are playing chicken, and Billy feigns casting a protective eye over them as he passes the row of lounging middle-aged mothers. They adore him. They think he’s just the sweetest young man, always keeping an eye out for the kids in the pool, playing big brother.

Again: Billy certainly views himself as A Big Deal. 

He climbs into the lifeguard chair with a practiced hop, settling in to survey his domain. It’s his last hour on shift, before the pool closes for the day, and the sunlight slopes through the chain link fence, tinted ruddy-gold from the approaching sunset. 

He despises this town. But he’s practically a king here, so what can he say? There are worse ways to pass the time. 

A bike bell draws his attention away, through the fence, to the street beyond the parking lot. 

Well, whaddya know? Maxine. He’d recognize that tangled mess of hair anywhere. She’s coasting down the street beside her hick friends, the wheels of her dumb little-kid skateboard roaring obnoxiously in the middle of a small crowd of bikes. He dares her to look his way. To meet his eyes through the fence. But she’s oblivious to the death threats he’s beaming into the back of her skull, and after a moment they swing around a curve in the road and vanish from sight.

I originally planned for the Weathertop scene to flow more contiguously into the Billy POV scene, by having the kids bike (or, in Max’s case, skateboard) past the pool, and then have the “camera” kind of pan over to show what was going on inside the fence and transition into Billy’s POV. However, the pacing of that transition just wasn’t working very well. It felt too slow and bogged-down to cover the kids leaving Weathertop and biking to the store to buy candy, even if I covered it very briefly, so I ended up abandoning that idea and just having Billy see them ride past at the end of his POV here. 

He turns back to the pool.

Somebody oughta knock that little bitch down a peg. He’s tired of her running around town like she owns the place.

Irony much?

(Also, foreshadowing much?)

-_-_-_-

Aaaand, that’s that! Phew, I can get out of Billy’s head again. Ugh. 

[lovelyyyoongi]

~College!au Pen Pal Jungkook~ PART FOURTEEN:END

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12] [part 13]

“Revenge?” You inquired with a smirk as he dragged you out of your room. 

“Come on. We have to make her feel bad, you know?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be the bigger people?” You raised an eyebrow. Stopping in his tracks, he sighed. “Aren’t you mad about what she did?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Then, for once, just this once, for your...boyfriend, can you agree?” He drawled out the word ‘boyfriend’ as if testing it out and then nodded in satisfaction.

“Boyfriend, huh? I don’t recall you asking to be my boyfriend,” you looked around, aimlessly.

“But Y/N,” Jungkook whined, shaking your hand in his grasp.

“Yes?”

“I’ve already told you I love you and I’ve kissed you,” He peered down at you with a raised brow. When you nodded, motioning him to continue, he shook his head as a chuckled released from his lips. “Now, all that there’s left is the question. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Sure, I love you, too, so it’s very clear that’d be my answer. Now, what were you thinking for revenge?”

“That’s it? A ‘Sure’? You know what, I should’ve expected that,” He laughed.

“Did you expect me to jump into your arms oh so gracefully and give you a kiss?”

“I mean, that’d be nice,” Jungkook shrugged with a cheeky grin. Rolling your eyes, you stood on your tippy-toes and pecked his cheek. He pouted but nonetheless walked along. 

“So, girlfriend, my plan of revenge is messy,” Jungkook smirked, leading you to his dorms.

“You’re not gonna call me that always, right? I like the sound of it but do we want to be that couple?” After a moment of silence you nodded to yourself. “Of course we do. We’ll annoy the shit out of people.”

“Exactly!”

“So what were you thinking?” You asked again when you reached his room; a room you stayed in plenty of time. You were the one who hogged his bed and constantly fought over room while, Yoongi, poor Yoongi, had to watch from the other side. Unlike you, Jungkook had a roommate. 

Opening the door, you both walked in. At the sound, Yoongi’s head popped up from his laying down position on the bed. “Y/N! I never thought I’d say this, but I missed you here!” Yoongi shouted, grinning ear to ear. You’ve never seen him like this.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighed. 

“Nope, I missed Y/N. How many times have I told you to apologize to her for ignoring her for so long?” Yoongi stood up and walked over to the both of you. 

“Many,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, casting his eyes downward.

“Oh really? Well, hate to break it to you but it required a Vmin intervention to get him to apologize,” You playfully scowled in Jungkook’s direction. 

“Why, what happened?”

“Remember Y/F/N?”

“That girl I met once when she came over and after she left, I banned her from coming back because she was too damn annoying? Yeah, I remember her,” Yoongi rolled his eyes as if recalling a day he’d much rather forget. 

“She wasn’t my pen pal...Y/N was,” Jungkook still obviously felt guilty for picking a stranger over you.

“Oh? That makes a lot of sense. I liked your pen pal’s sense of humor and I liked Y/N,” Snapping his fingers he shook his head, “Should connected them sooner.”

“Well, now she’s exposed and Kook and I want to get revenge,” You clapped your hands, smiling sweetly.

“And we’re dating! Y/N, can’t forget about the highlight,” Jungkook grinned.

“I sure hope you are. The way Jungkook used to go on and on about you, you already knew he was in love with you.” 

“Oh really?”

“Hyung! Not important right now! Revenge plan, remember?” Jungkook waved his hands around.

“I love a good revenge plan. What were you thinking?”

“Remember the paint war we were supposed to have?”

“The one with the balloons?”

Nodding his head, Jungkook grinned. “That’s a great idea!”

Looking between the two boys who’d be thought being twelve years old with a conversation like this, you were confused. Paint war? Balloons? 

“You think? It isn’t too mean?”

“You’re asking the wrong person...I’d write roast the shit out of them with a diss track. How can I help?”

“Great. More of Jungkook’s friends. Wanna yell at me, too?” You overheard Y/F/N groan when she spotted Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin approaching her. 

Both you and Jungkook were hiding on top of a probably restricted construction structure. It was in front of one of the buildings being repaired from storm damage. Under the structure, was Y/F/N where you had planned her to be. 

“We were just wondering why you lied to Jungkook,” Jin said, innocently, walking closer, but not close enough to be ‘revenge-ed.’

“I have to explain it to you, too? Ugh, honestly if I had known this would be the consequences of being his friend in the first place then I’d–” You nudged Jungkook to hurry up and start. Jungkook sent you a smirk before dropping the blue water balloon so it landed on her head. 

She let out a shriek as you stifled a laugh. The boys in front of her laughed their asses off, and you quickly grabbed the special present Taehyung gave you. Throwing it on the ground next to her, an eruption of purple smoke was released. 

“Smoke bomb. Smart,” Jungkook nodded, handing you a balloon. You both threw the remaining balloons before the smoke dissipated and scurried off the structure. You pretended to be just walking in on the scene, noticing the boys motioning you over. 

“You did this!” Y/F/N pointed an accusing finger at the two of you. Putting both your hands up in surrender you denied, “We just got here, how would we?” You couldn’t contain your laugh as you observed her. She was a rainbow. Her arms were green and orange, while her head and torso was a mixture between blues and pinks. 

“Then maybe it was the other two,” She was fuming. 

“Us?” Taehyung and Jimin genuinely just entered the scene. All the while, other students walked by with snickers and smirks on their faces.

“Wondered why she got that.”

“I don’t care. She deserved it. You know she stole my boyfriend in freshman year?”

“She looks better like that.”

“I’d give a high five to the person who did that.”

Smirking to yourselves, both you and Jungkook returned to your dorm room. “Now, that, was fun,” You yelled, a large grin on your face. Tackling Jungkook in an embrace, you sighed in content. 

“Princess, as long as you’re dating me, it’ll always be fun,” He wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively.

“Says the virgin,” You smirked causing him to gasp. 

“Hey! You’re making fun!”

“No, no, just a small tease,” You leaned up and pecked his lips. Humming in response, Jungkook pulled you onto your bed. Hovering over you and wrapping his arms around you, he gave a cute smile.

“Just letting you know, I’m not letting go. Ever,” He buried his head in the crook of your neck as you laid underneath him.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

The both of you soon fell asleep, your hand playing with his hair, a new thing you did that Jungkook loved. However, like the last time, you managed to move around so you were against his chest and legs tangled together. 

This time, when you woke up, there was no awkwardness. Soft smiles and sweet words were exchanged between you two and man, you wondered what the hell you did to deserve it. 

That day, you were both sent to you Dean’s office where Y/F/N, still some part of her body covered in paint splatters, sat in his chair. You sat in the other two seats next to Y/F/N. 

“I’m sorry Y/F/N, but no one saw it,” your Dean apologized.

“They had a smoke bomb! Believe me they did it!” She pointed another accusing finger at you.

“And why would they do that?” The Dean raised his eyebrow. You and Jungkook exchanged glances. You were both expecting this. If Y/F/N said you waned revenge, she’d have to explain why. And why would be the reason she’d be in trouble. Pretending to be someone else, especially if it was part of an assignment, was a violation and she knew that.

Opening her mouth a few times, she looked down and grumbled to herself. Looking back up sweetly, she apologized, “You know, it probably wasn’t them. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Then she marched out the door and closed it behind her. 

“I’m sorry I had to have you here. You see, paint was thrown at Y/F/N and she thought you two were the culprits. Do you know why’d she’d think that?”

The both of you shook your heads in disbelief, widening your eyes. “What?” “No way!”

“I thought so. You can leave now,” the Dean motioned to the door. 

“See? Smoke bombs are smart,” you smirked, out of ear range of the Dean’s office.

Intertwining your hands, Jungkook sighed, “What an adventure; First I talked to my pen pal, then you, then back to my pen pal, then you, and then Y/F/N, and then you who was my pen pal all along? Wow, what a story to tell.”

“Yeah, at least we’re both at fault. We both did stupid things.”

“Because we’re both idiots,” Jungkook finished.

“For each other,” you pinched his cheek lovingly, causing him to groan. 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“As Sarcastic Princess would say, I love me too,” You smiled when he chuckled. “Oh, and I love you, too.”

ITS OVER *wipes tear* I hope this was an okay ending that satisfied you all! Thank you all so much for reading this and leaving such sweet messages and asks. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of readers.

As for the next pen pal, it’s going to be....*drum rolls* Yoongi’s!!! So all you Yoongi biased (heh me too) be sure to stick around!! Pls, I love making friends.

How did you like it? Any particular parts you loved? Let me know!

I love y’all~

[qualitytimewithpeteanddeb-blog]

Quality Time With Pete and Deb - White House Leaks

Peter Grosz and Debra Downing are alums of The Second City Theater, writers, actors and husband and wife, living in Brooklyn, NY. This piece was composed at home on their computer exactly as you see it. One person would write and the other would respond, essentially like an improvised written “conversation”. The content was not pre-planned. They only decided to talk about the leaks coming out of the White House. They wrote on February 3rd.

PETE: For those who aren’t totally up to date on what we’ll be discussing, here’s a quick primer that I think is an unbiased description of what’s going on. Career employees and non-partisan civil servants in various parts of the government, including the White House have been leaking information to the press that describes behind the scenes actions of Trump and his advisers. Here’s a not unbiased description of why they’re doing it: THEY’RE AFRAID A MANIAC HAS BEEN ELECTED AND THE MANIAC HIRED A DEMON AS HIS CHIEF STRATEGIST AND TOGETHER THEY’RE GOING TO DESTROY THE WORLD!!!

DEB: When are Aaron Eckhart and Gerard Butler going step in and save us all? I’m just trying to be the voice of reason here. How many Deep Throats are there now?  I guess we’ll have to come up with a bunch of cool code names for each one. How about, “Scampi”? No – too close to Shrimp Scampi. What about “The Faucet” – you know, on account of the leak? What about, “The Bean Spiller”? No – that sounds too much like Ben Stiller, who I’m not ruling out as an informer. I can’t wait to see All The President’s Men 2, but living through it isn’t as much fun as seeing the movie in a few years.

PETE: I don’t think any of those nicknames are too silly. “Deep Throat” was a porn reference after all. I love the idea of seeing All The President’s Men 2 and Sam Waterston (arguably the new Hal Holbrook) stepping out of the shadows of a parking garage and Andrew Garfield playing an intrepid reporter says, “Thanks for meeting me here, Scampi.” That would make me very happy. I wonder who these people are who are doing the leaking. I hope there’s a White House operator who sits at a switchboard and pulls out and plugs in wires and listens to every phone call. And it’s Lily Tomlin.

DEB: Thank God. Wait a minute, in the movie, does Dabney Coleman play Trump and we have a whole “9 to 5 Two” situation on our hands? OK- now I’m interested. Dolly Parton and Jane Fonda may be into this! I know I am!

PETE: Well I bet Trump would love to be into Dolly Parton! Hi-yo! You know, cause he’s a perv. If these leaks are coming from civil servants and other staff those people are very brave. They could lose their jobs after all. But what if they’re coming from Jared Kushner? To try and discredit and fuck with Bannon? Or from Bannon or get Trump to crack down even more on White House staff and purge everyone who doesn’t take a loyalty blood oath? Or from Trump himself because he’s trying to… I don’t know what the hell he’d be trying to do but I do know he cray!

DEB: Oh what a tangled web we weave. I’m just glad people are standing up in whatever way they can. I feel so bad about the way Trump spoke to the Australian Prime Minister. I’m embarrassed and feel like we should send him some “make up” roses and a thoughtful note with baby kangaroos on it saying, “Dearest Mate, please forgive the harsh words the other day. We meant to say, ‘You were the best call of the day!’ And by the way, thank you for taking care of all those refugees for so long (sorry they were called illegal immigrants in prisons – oops! That was not nice). Please forgive us, we hope we can be friends again; we need all we can get! Big hugs, The American people. PS – please don’t tell the President we sent this. He doesn’t like it when we disagree with him.”

PETE: First of all, that’s the longest message on any greeting card in history. It’d be 15 pages long, like a Cheesecake Factory menu. Second of all, I kind of love the idea that Trump was so happy with his travel ban executive order and felt all powerful about keeping dangerous refugee women and children out of the country and then someone told him “Um… by the way, we already signed up to take all these other refugees” and he flipped his lid. Then he got all pissy and took it out on the Prime Minister. So to recap, a 70 year old man, when told he had to be nice to innocent people, reacted the way our 7 year old son does when we tell him he has to do his homework before he can watch TV.

DEB: I think we are in for four years of him acting out in weird ways at weird times at anyone. There, now don’t you feel better? Oh my Trump Stomach!

PETE: That’s it! You stumbled upon the true conflict of interest of the Trump presidency. It isn’t all the money he’s going to earn from foreign governments or that he’s in cahoots with Putin. He bought a majority stake in Pepto Bismol and is raking in billions of dollars from liberals trying to control their Trump-related upset stomachs! It’s Peptogate!

DEB: I knew we’d get to the bottom of it! This is totally random but while I was watching Sean Spicer the other day getting so defensive at a Press Conference, I had a strange thought. I believe the current Press Briefing room is built over an old swimming pool that was installed by FDR. I’m sure there is no water in it now, but I just had this image of a briefing happening and Spicer getting so frustrated with reporters that he pushes a button and the floor slowly moves aside and all the reporters fall into the freshly filled pool. Kind of like that scene in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Except the movie we are living in is called “Oh, It’s Worse Than I Thought.”

PETE: It’s the feel bad movie of the year! That also just made me think of an even more bizarre possibility about these leaks. It’s Sean Spicer. The press secretary who is so upset with the bullshit he has to shovel to the press that in order to keep his own sanity he leaks the real truth out on the DL. Because while on one hand he looks like he enjoys yelling at and bullying the press I also feel like there’s a world in which he leaves every press briefing dazed and shaking, then walks back to the oval office where Trump is waiting and he makes Spicer get down on all fours, shoves a ball gag in his mouth then pokes him in the eye with a sharpened stick he’s dipped in tobacco sauce and screams “Meaner, Sean!!! Be Meaner!!!” at him until Spicer breaks down crying and pees his pants. Then Trump says, “I’m sorry we quarreled” like Patrick Bergin in “Sleeping With The Enemy” and they go out for ice cream.

DEB: OK, this is so weird you referenced that movie because I almost put, “I’m sorry we quarreled” in the “forgive me” note to Australia but I thought it was too dark. Apparently not.

PETE: No. Nothing is off limits or unrealistic. Honestly, I think that’s why these career government people are freaking out. They just haven’t seen anything like this before. And I know that Trump supporters would say “Exactly! He’s a disrupter and he’s going to shake up Washington.” Well what if when it comes to shaking, Washington is less like a freshly squeezed juice and more like a baby. The less the better.

DEB: Disruption for the sake of disruption. When the rest of the world is already in a state of disruption people look to America as a steady hand they can reach out to. Or they used to. Now if you do that you might get your hand slapped.

PETE: Or worse! Someone might hang up the phone on you. Yeah, I’m not sure what the end game is. Piss off our enemies and our allies, break treaties, withhold money from international organizations and miraculously get everyone to respect you? Maybe our time as an empire is just on the wane. People get sick of the responsibility of running shit and being the preeminent power in the world. I mean, the Dutch, the Spanish and the English all used to be the World Cop and now they’re just lucky to be in the World Cup. WHOO! I DID IT! PUN OF THE CENTURY! WHO SAYS AMERICA’S BEST DAYS ARE BEHIND US?! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

DEB: I love this country but that chanting really gets on my nerves.

THE FLOOR BENEATH DEB’S FEET BEGINS TO MOVE.

PETE: Um, Deb? Remember when I asked you if our apartment was built on top of an old swimming pool and you said “No”?

DEB: Yes.

PETE: And remember when I asked you if our apartment was built on top of an ancient Indian burial ground?

DEB: Yes.

PETE: Did I ever ask you if our apartment was built on top of an ancient Indian burial swimming pool?

THE FLOOR MOVES ASIDE TO REVEAL A SWIMMING POOL. DEB FALLS IN.

DEB: Well at least I’m wearing a swimsuit today.

PETE: Is this a metaphor for the sinking of our democracy or the leaks coming out of the White House? Or neither of those things?

DEB: Don’t ask me, it’s 20 degrees outside and I’m wearing a swimsuit. I gotta do laundry at some point.

PETE: You do have to do laundry. Wait a second… Oh no. “Laundry” is Steve Bannon’s secret service code name!!!! We’re doomed.

PETE JUMPS INTO THE SWIMMING POOL PLANNING TO DROWN HIMSELF BUT IT’S ONLY 3 FEET DEEP.

PETE: OUCH! I broke my foot on the bottom of the pool. Did they get rid of Obamacare yet?