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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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My Friend’s Father (Part Seven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Words: 4,498

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*********

Throughout the entire night, you couldn’t help but think about Cillian. You dreamed about the kiss you shared, the touch of his hands on your face and even the scent of his skin.

You knew you shouldn’t think this way about your best friend’s father but it was something you couldn’t control even though you were angry with him.

But there was one person you who you were even more angry with and this was Connor, the man you were actually dating.

You got up early that morning to confront Connor about his behaviour at the art gallery opening and the truth was that you were pretty much done with him. You never had feelings for him in the first place and the truth was that he had simply become a distraction for you. You wanted to distract yourself from having taken a liking in your best friend’s father which, in itself, you knew was wrong.

Connor embarrassed you in front of your friends and Cillian was right when he said that he was acting controlling, even though you didn’t want to hear it, especially not from him.

You knew you had to end it and you knew that it wasn’t going to be a difficult task for you. You had always been a strong woman and you didn’t want to be with someone like that and, just when you arrived at Connor’s house you took a deep breath and did what had to be done.

‘It’s your loss Y/N’ were his words when you eventually left his house after a ten minute conversation but you didn’t feel like you had lost anything. In fact, you’ve gained something and that was experience in standing up for yourself.

***

Just after you encounter with Connor that morning, you went to have breakfast with Denise and her friends at the G Hotel in Galway.

They were all staying at the five-star hotel, courtesy of Denise’s father who had organised the weekend for Denise for her birthday and as a reward for her achievements after she had worked so hard on her project.

‘Happy Birthday’ you said as you greeted her and the others and Denise immediately told you off for being too loud as her head was pounding. It was obvious to you that she was rather hungover from the night the before.

‘You had too much champaign, huh?’ you giggled before handing her the present you had bought for her.

You usually didn’t spend much money on each other for birthdays but, since she was your best friend, you had spent a few hours’ worth in wages and gotten her something meaningful.

She was collecting vintage tea-cups and you had recently found a beautiful Royal Dalton set in a second-hand shop which you knew she would adore.

‘This is absolutely beautiful, thank you so much’ Denise said as she unwrapped it before hugging you gently.

‘You are welcome. I knew you would like it’ you said with a warm smile and, just as you did and sat down next to her, your mobile phone went off.

You received a text message from a number that was unfamiliar to you and when you opened it, you were none the wiser.

‘It was good to see you’ the message said and you were rather confused by it. You had some job interviews recently and wondered whether this was sent by one of the interviewers. Or perhaps someone from university, you wondered?

‘What is it?” Denise asked as she saw the look of confusion on your face when you glanced at your phone.

‘Someone just send me a message saying that it was good to see me’ you chuckled before explaining to her that you didn’t know the number.

‘Maybe it is this guy from university you were talking about a few weeks back? You know, the lecturer in the science department?’ Denise wondered before suggesting to you that you should text back and ask for a name, but you already knew it wouldn’t be him. There was no way he would have your number and you certainly were no longer interested in getting to know him after you had found out that he was married.

You texted back to the unknown number, enquiring who this was and, within a couple of seconds, your phone went off again and you almost choked on your coffee.

‘Cillian’ the message read and you quickly changed the angle of your phone so that Denise wouldn’t see it.

‘And? Who is it?’ she asked while trying to look at your phone.

‘Uhm…just a guy I met a few weeks ago…I ran into him again yesterday morning and I totally forgot about it…’ you stammered quickly but Denise didn’t buy a word you were saying.

‘You forgot?’ she giggled, winking at you as she did and your cheeks blushed almost instantly. ‘Well, he obviously didn’t and you must have given him your number for a reason. Is he hot? What’s he like? I need to know everything…’ she went on to say as, suddenly, without you haven’t sent anything back to Cillian, you received yet another text message from him.

‘For what its’s worth, you looked beautiful’ the next text read and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued to sip on your cup of coffee and Denise most certainly noticed the look on your face and asked you what he said.

‘Just that I looked nice’ you stammered, feeling awful about lying to her about who texted you but there was no way that you could have told her that it was, in fact, her father who you were texting with.

‘Uh, he likes you’ Denise then giggled before carrying on. ‘Well, since you ditched Connor now, you should go and meet up with him and have some fun. After Connor’s one-off ten-minute performance, I have no doubt that you really need it’ Denise said and, just as she did, the conversation across the breakfast table took a turn. Like so often, it now was all about sex and you realised that dissatisfaction was a common occurrence in women your age.

‘I believe that the whole talk about the female g-spot is load of rubbish. It’s a myth’ Amalie observed eventually after everyone across the table complained about the lovers that they had.

It was at this point that you mentally checked out from the conversation and, whilst you thought about the one pleasurable experience you had in your life when it came to sex, you certainly didn’t want to talk about it in front of Denise. Especially not Denise.

Instead of engaging in talks about vibrators and the male anatomy, you decided to respond to Cillian’s text messages after you had received yet another one, telling you that he was sorry. Clearly, he was desperate to hear from you.

‘I see, you kept my note?’ you responded quickly, ignoring his compliments and apologies, and, just moments after you sent it, you received a response from him.

‘Kept it in my wallet. Can we meet?’ Cillian asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just before you received yet another message from him which read ‘BTW this is not a booty call. I just want to talk with you. Please.’

His message made you laugh but you agreed to meet him nonetheless.

‘I have an apartment at the Docks. Can you come there?’ Cillian asked in his next text message.

‘Alright. How does 4 o’clock sound? Text me your address’ you texted back and it wasn’t long until Cillian sent you the address of his apartment.

‘And?’ Denise asked as she watched you text with the mysterious stranger and you simply blushed again and responded with a short and somewhat embarrassed ‘nothing’.

‘Oh common, tell me Y/N. I am your best friend’ she then said and you confirmed that you would quickly meet up with him this afternoon before Denise’s birthday dinner.

‘Oh la la, you are having a date’ Denise then said somewhat excitedly.

‘We are just catching up to talk Denise. It’s not a date’ you then said.

‘Sure…whatever you say Y/N’ she then said sarcastically which is when, finally, she backed off and you received yet another text message from Cillian.

‘Looking forward to see you, xx’ it read and your heart skipped a beat pretty much then and there.

***

After you went home to have a shower and get changed into some nice jeans and a black shirt as well as some nice lingerie (just in case) you made your way to Cillian’s apartment.

You parked around the corner and walked the rest of the way just to be sure that no one would see your car being parked there.

‘Jesus’ you said somewhat surprised when you walked into the lobby of the apartment building and took the elevator to the top floor after Cillian had buzzed you inside. You had never been to a building like this. It was luxurious and right on the harbour.

When you arrived on the top floor, Cillian already waited for you, glancing through the door of his apartment.

‘Wow, these are some good views. Do you own this place?’ you observed as you stepped inside and set your purse on the desk by the door.

‘Yeah, bought it a few years ago’ Cillian said as you began to shrug off your jacket, but Cillian came up from behind you, and caught your hands. You looked down at your hands, noticing that yours dwarfed in his. They were warm and soft.

‘Let me take this for you’ he said like a gentleman and you were somewhat surprised by his gesture. This was not something you were used to but you liked it, a lot.

‘You know, I didn’t expect that you would text me, especially not after last night. So, what is it that you want to talk about?’ you asked nervously and, just as you did, Cillian cut straight to the chase.

‘I wanted to tell you, in person, that I am sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have lectured you about this guy who you are seeing and the truth is that, yes, I was jealous and I know that I had no right to be jealous and for that I am also sorry. I should have acted differently, especially knowing that you are my daughter’s best friend’ he admitted just before you cut him off.

‘Well, for what its worth, I ended it with Connor this morning because I think you were right about him’ you said with a nervous smile, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘I can’t say that I am not happy about that’ he said jokingly before continuing on. ‘But, regardless of this, I think that we need to talk about how we move forward from what happened between us for Denise’s sake’ he then said, causing you to nod.

‘Yeah’ you then said somewhat disappointed before building up your strength in order to say something else. ‘The thing is, Cillian, I know what I want. I just think that you don’t’ you said, cheeks blushing.

‘And what is that you want Y/N?’ Cillian asked curiously as if he didn’t already know the answer to his question.

‘You’ you then admitted and, just as you did, Cillian’s hands caressed your face and he pulled you close and kissed you yet again.

The kiss was slow and passionate and, unlike the night before, you allowed yourself to give into it until, eventually, your lips drifted apart.

‘Are you sure Y/N? Because, I am much older than you and you probably have better offers with more assurances that I simply cannot offer you’ Cillian then asked as he was standing directly in front of you and held you against his body.

‘The fact that you are older actually turns me on’ you admitted before pressing your lips onto his again and then pulling away. You adored his wrinkles and greying hair and you were surprised that he had no idea how attractive he actually was.

‘But what is it that you want Cillian?’ you then asked as you felt his firm chest against you while his warm breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

‘Honestly, I don’t know Y/N. I have never been so fucking confused in my life’ he explained reluctantly, not knowing where to place the feelings he had built for you. You were over twenty years younger than him and his daughter’s friend and this clearly bothered him. He knew that this wasn’t something he could easily overcome.

‘Well, I am confused too but I like you, a lot’ you admitted, also unsure about what this was that you were feeling for him but, what you knew was that you wanted to give whatever this was a chance. You were curious and you were filled with desire for this man standing there right in front of you.

‘And I need to know that you feel the same and that this isn’t going to be just another mistake you are making because, if you are going to walk away after we have sex, then I am not up for it’ you then explained, wanting to ensure that he wouldn’t pull away from you this time.

‘No more mistakes Y/N. I like you and I want this’ Cillian whispered as he pressed his lips firmly right under your ear, slowly kissing down your neck.

‘I want you’ he then said as his breath tickled your skin and the firmness of his kiss made your stomach flip.

‘Then that’s good enough for me’ you huffed out in a laboured breath and just, as you did, Cillian used his hands to spin you around, causing you to face away from him.

Then, his hands dropped to your waist where his fingers gently edged themselves under the hem of your shirt, barely touching your skin. His lips moved, and he left a trail of kisses down your shoulder and towards your arm.

‘I knew this was a booty call’ you teased as you couldn't help but move against him.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked as your hips rocked and shifted while he gently brushed his fingers against your skin.

‘Hell no’ you giggled before you lifted your arms and he began to pull your shirt up.

You felt like you were performing some secret dance that we both knew, but that you'd never realised you'd known.

Cillian lifted your shirt inch at a time up off you, and let it fall to the floor. He sighed in satisfaction as he looked down at your breasts.

‘Why are you so fucking perfect?’ Cillian asked and you opened your mouth to answer but it came out as a sigh as his hands tightened around your waist.

‘Let’s take this off’ Cillian said determined as one of his hands inched up towards your breast, and he squeezed it gently. Then, his hands came away from you, and unsnapped your bra.

You practically shook it off of you, and then dropped your hands to your jeans. You needed his hands back on you again as soon as possible and turned to watch him as you kicked your shoes off and shoved down your jeans, your underwear coming with them.

‘Eager, are we?’ Cillian chuckled as he quickly began to undress himself as well after you had given him a look full of hunger and anticipation.

‘We are short of time’ you said as you were momentarily distracted by the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt, but you hurried to kick off the fabric wrapped around your ankles.

‘We’ve got at least two and a half hours Y/N’ Cillian then said as you finally stood there in front of him completely naked.

‘Exactly’ you chuckled as Cillian was still fighting with the buttons on his shirt, and you grabbed the fabric of it and pulled him against you, crushing your mouth against his.

Cillian made love to your mouth with his lips and his tongue. He was firm, slow, and demanding.

You breathed together, tasted together. He dragged a soft moan from your mouth with a caress of his lips. He explored you, letting his tongue run along the roof of your mouth. Your teeth crashed. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and your stomach clenched and you let out an embarrassingly desperate sound.

Before your first night with Cillian, you'd never been kissed like this. The kisses you shared were more intimate and more sensual than anything you'd ever experienced in your life.

As you were kissing, you finally managed to unbutton his shirt and shoved it open. Your hands ran up and down his chest, exploring his toned body all the while he was relentless in his kiss. His arms wrapped around you, one hand pressing into the small of your back, and the other working his fingers into your hair.

With a small tug of your hair, he pulled your face away from him.

‘I could kiss you all day Y/N, but you said that we are short of time so you better get onto the bed’ he winked and you snaked your arms around his neck and kissed him while he walked you back into his bedroom and towards the bed.

As you were moving towards the bed, he fought with his belt and his pants all while his lips never left yours.

You shuffled awkwardly backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, forcing you to sit down. You kept your arms behind you to prop yourself up, smiling as you watched him finish undressing. He was just gorgeous and so goddamn perfect.

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ you said full of desire while you watched as he pushed his pants down, kicking them off his ankles and standing in front of you completely naked, and... Sweet. Baby. Jesus…your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock.

‘So are you’ he winked and, just as he did, you met his eyes again after having stared at his cock for a little while. That terrifying intense stare was back, and he looked like he was going to eat you alive. For all you knew, he would.

Without breaking eye contact, Cillian bent down and went to his knees at the foot of the bed, grabbed your legs, and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs wide as he did so.

‘Lay back’ he ordered and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ you asked as he was still staring at you. A slow smile graced his face.

‘I am going to make love to you with my tongue until you cum’ Cillian smirked and the idea of his face between your legs made your breath catch.

‘Oh, Sweet Jesus’ you moaned as he let go of one of your legs and put a hand on your shoulder. He pushed you back and then he lowered his lips to you.

Sweet bliss washed over you in an instant. You gasped, and moaned, and shivered. Cillian lapped at you like you were the sweetest treasure he'd ever put in his mouth. A slow, deep rumble from his chest travelled straight into your body through his lips, shaking you to your core. His tongue dove inside you, exploring you. He sucked on the lips of your sex, and the circled his tongue around your clit, sending powerful shocks of pleasure straight to your centre.

He was building you up to something big. Something beautiful.

He eased off right before you exploded, and you cried out.

‘Cillian, don't stop, please’ you moaned and, just as you began to plead with him, his fingers began to gently run through your wet slit.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you before his tongue resumed its work on your clit.

Curling his fingers slightly upwards, he reached an unfamiliar spot deep inside you and, as soon as he reached this spot, you cried out in pleasure.

‘Oh god, fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as his fingers began to gently thrust in and out of you while he made love to you with his tongue.

With his skilled tongue and fingers working you, it didn’t take you long to reach an orgasm. Your legs began to shake almost violently as a wave of pleasure erupted through your body and your walls tightened around Cillian’s fingers.

When you finally came down from your high, Cillian stood up, pushed his hands against your hips, and slid you farther onto the bed.

‘You sound so fucking sexy when you cum like this, without having to hold back’ Cillian observed as he climbed onto the bed. He crawled towards you like a wolf stalking his prey.

‘I want you inside me, please…I am aching for your cock’ you moaned, spurring him on and, without losing any time he spread your legs wide and pressed the head against your slit, gently working the tip in and out, teasing you.

‘Oh god, please, stop teasing’ you whimpered, trying to wiggle against him. You wanted to feel all of him so badly.

‘Be patient, we will get there’ he whispered, and leaned forward so his arms were on either side of your face.

You felt him push a little deeper into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you gasped and winced and Cillian tilted his head and took your mouth with his, kissing you slowly as he rocked in and out. His lips and his tongue matched the pace of his thrusts, and you felt overwhelmed with desire as he slid deeper and deeper inside of you.

‘Fuck you feel so good Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he stretched you and pushed you until he was all the way in, and he pulled his mouth away from yours just long enough to let out a string of curses before he took your mouth again.

You couldn't breathe. Everything about him was amazing. The way he felt inside you was just perfect.

He held your head firmly in place as he kissed you, thrusting into you and grinding his hips so that he hit every single spot you didn't even know you had. Right as you were nearing your climax, he pulled all the way out and pushed himself off of you, pausing to catch his breath.

‘No…don’t stop…I was so close’ you whimpered.

‘Don’t worry, I am not done with you yet but I do enjoy teasing you’ he gasped and you could tell that he enjoyed edging you which is something no other man you have been with had ever done to you before. Unlike them, Cillian had amazing self-control which you thought might come with age.

Almost an hour later, after he edged you numerous times and made you change positions on several occasions, you ended up with Cillian on top of you once again. He slid back inside you, resuming his relentless pace. With every thrust, he ground his pelvis against your clit, and with only a few careful movements of his hips, you exploded in pleasure around him. There was no way you could have held back any longer as waves of heat and ice crashed onto you, and you fought to breathe through the intensity of your orgasm.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned shortly thereafter, feeling your walls contract around his shaft. He collapsed forward onto you, and you could feel him pulsing inside you and filling you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

You loved the feeling of him cuming inside you and his breath was hot against your neck, and he kissed your neck and your mouth again as he pulled back and out of you, giving you a chance to breathe.

***

‘Cillian’ you whispered, barely able to speak even after five minutes had passed since you came down from your high.

‘Yes Beautiful?’ he said, and moved slightly so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. He sucked and tongued at it, and pulled at it with his teeth.

‘Careful’ you laughed, and shifted under him slightly. ‘I’m super sensitive now’ you said.

‘I certainly hope so’ he murmured. ‘Although, I am not done with you yet. We still have an hour before dinner’ he smirked and your eyes widened immediately.

‘Oh really?’ you asked surprised and, when you looked down on him, you noticed that his cock was already hardening again just after a short five minutes of relaxation.

‘Really’ Cillian then chuckled as he rolled you onto your stomach, spreading your legs and crouching behind you.

Without losing any time, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed back inside of you, eliciting a loud groan.

After doing you from behind for what felt like forever, he'd hauled you up into his lap and made love to you with his arms around you and our foreheads pressed together. You'd watched his eyes widen and roll back in his head as he came inside you again just after you reached your own high as well.

He then kissed you as he slowly pulled out of you, and then carried you in his arms like a bride into the bathroom where he'd showered you, washed your hair and your body, and treated you to another mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.

‘I am fucking sore Cillian’ you huffed out as you were standing in front of the mirror and retouched your make up with a white towel wrapped around your body. You had only limited supplies with you in your handbag but were somewhat lucky that Denise had kept a few items in one of the bathrooms in the three-bedroom apartment.

‘I am sorry’ he then said as he stepped behind you and applied some more aftershave before kissing your neck.

‘Are you?’ you asked, looking back at him before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

‘Not really’ he then smirked before buttoning up his shirt.

You knew that you couldn’t arrive at the dinner together and, after you got ready, you decided to walk to the restaurant first so that Cillian would allow you a ten-minute head start.

But walking was difficult in itself and Cillian had a slight chuckle when he watched you waddle out of his apartment.

Your core was stinging but it was defiantly worth it.

Tag List:

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@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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thran-duils · 4 years ago

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?��

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #stony x reader #stony smut #marvel fic #my shit

216 notes · View notes

laventae · 4 years ago

Text

Haikyuu boys - Pretending to be your boyfriend

Akaashi Keiji

Summary: Oneshot stories of random situations where the boys pretend to be your boyfriends, but y’all also kinda like each other?

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Gn!reader (I tried my best to make it gn, if there are any mistakes though, please let me know)

Genre: Fluff?

Word count: 6.4k words

Warnings: Mild cursing

Becoming close friends with Bokuto when you got into Fukur��dani Academy a year ago was probably one of the best accidents that happened to you since you moved into town. Because you weren't very extroverted and had a hard time making friends whenever you got into a new school or was put in a social situation, you thought moving to Fukurōdani meant that you'd become an outcast once again. That, however, totally changed when you were assigned a seat next to Bokuto in class on your first day. And ever since then, you've been as close as ever. You can also definitely say that, because of him, it was much easier and much more comfortable for you to put yourself out there and be able to make friends and get along with many different people. You couldn't even express the amount of appreciation you felt towards him for helping you through it all. But, its moments like these that you just question if you should feel thankful or just straight up want to kill him. Your right leg shakes as you anxiously wait for the bell of your last class to ring. ‘Just a few more minutes’ you think to yourself. And surely, a couple of minutes later, the bell rings. You hurriedly grab your things and wave goodbye to your friends as you leave class. "Really? Nothing??" You exclaim as you look at your phone to see if Bokuto replied to any of your messages or calls. "Fine then" you say as you head to the gym, where you know he definitely would be.

-~-~-

You open the gym door slowly, and try to look for Bokuto. Your eyes scan the gym for any signs of him and then you spot him standing and talking to some of the guys from the volleyball team. ‘Gotcha’ you think as you make your way to him. You greet some of the guys on the team as you pass through the gym court to get to Bokuto. "Hey Bo!" you loudly call on him as you cross your arms while facing his back.

You see him stiffen and start turning around slowly, the boys laughing and wishing him luck. They probably know he’s done some shit again this time, and frankly, they're not surprised.

“Oh hey, y/n,” he scratches the back of his head nervously, “what brings you here?” he asks innocently.

“Oh, just missing you,” you answer. You see his shoulders relax and take another step towards him, “and wondering why you haven't been answering my texts or calls”

He puts on an innocent smile on his face and reaches for your head, ruffling your hair and trying to hug you “Oh, you're missing me? You’re missing your daily dose of Bokuto to re-energize your-” you swat his hand away before he finishes his sentence.

“Stop trying to act cute,” you say as you start fixing your hair, “explain”

“Oh, my bad, did you text me? I was just busy with practice and all, didn’t have time to check my phone.”

“Since yesterday?” you ask, unamused.

“Yesterday? Hmmm...” he pretends to start thinking about the last time he checked his phone.

“Quit it, I know you’ve been avoiding me and haven't started working on your part of our history project”

He gives you puppy dog eyes and reaches for your arm in a way where you know he means “can you help me with it?”

“It’s due in 3 days, you know that, right?” you ask, unamused, yet again.

His round, golden eyes don’t waver as he silently begs you to give in.

‘Goddammit, why does he have to be so cute’

You sigh, “fine”

He immediately gets excited and raises his fists in the air as if he won a game.

“But just this once, idiot” you say, and you can’t help but smile at how excited he gets.

“You say that every time, you know” you hear Konoha say teasingly and you send him a glare.

He quickly raises his arms as if to say “sorry” and you laugh.

You turn your attention to Bokuto again, “Today, after practice, I'll be waiting for you at our usual café, do you understand?”

“Sure, sure,” he says as he drags you to the court, “now toss me a ball, let me show you how much better my spike has gotten!” he exclaims excitedly and you can't help but give in, yet again.

A couple of minutes after you start tossing balls for Bokuto to spike, you feel someone staring at you. You turn around and notice it was Akaashi, but he looks away as soon as you notice him and continues chatting with another team member.

You grab another ball to toss Bokuto, “You know, I still don’t think Akaashi necessarily likes me” you quietly tell him.

He looks at you confused, “Here we go again, why do you think that?” he asks as he spikes another ball you threw his way.

“I don’t know, I always feel like he’s glaring at me when I look at him” you say slightly disappointed, “do you think I accidently did something wrong to annoy him?”

Somehow, you always found it hard to talk to him or get close to him. And it wasn’t a surprise since you weren’t the most extroverted person, but you were still able to get along with most people, just, not really, him.

“Hey, I'm sure that it’s just all in your head, he doesn’t hate you” Bokuto says as he waits for you to toss him another ball.

“It’s just so hard to read him, I can never know what he’s thinking”

“Then just ask him”

“It’s not that easy, you know”

“Why would it not be easy? What? Do you like him or something?” Bokuto says teasingly.

Skip

Your heart skips a beat.

‘What? Me liking him? That’s ridiculous’

I mean he’s very attractive, don’t get me wrong. He has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And your eyes can't help but follow him when watching the team play during matches. He always looks focused and serious and h-

‘What am I even thinking right now?’ you curse yourself in your head and turn to answer Bokuto but find him with a surprised look on his face.

“Wait! DO YOU ACTUALLY LIKE-” Bokuto yells before you put your hand on his mouth to stop him from finishing his sentence.

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you whisper yell before you turn around, and once again you see Akaashi turn his head away.

“No, stop being a weirdo” you tell Bokuto again as you remove your hand from over his mouth, hoping nobody heard what you guys were yelling about.

He eyes you suspiciously for a few seconds before asking you to toss him another ball.

“Well anyways, I don’t want my two best friends to be awkward around each other, so you guys better start getting along” he says as he spikes another ball.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you sigh, relieved that Bokuto isn't pressing on the matter any further.

‘Wait, why are you even relieved, it's not like you actually like him’ you think and unintentionally laugh out loud.

“Hey weirdo, stop laughing and keep tossing the ball”

You spend a few more minutes tossing the ball for Bokuto before leaving to get your stuff ready to meet him at your usual café nearby.

-~-~-

You check your phone as soon as you get in the café.

1 NEW MESSAGE FROM ‘Baka-to’: “Sorry! With coach! Be there in 15 mins!”

You sigh.

“Didn’t expect much from the king of tardiness,” you say to yourself quietly as you chuckle and find a seat for the both of you.

You sit at your usual booth and start taking out your laptop and other books you need to help with the project.

You hear the café bell jingle and you look up instinctively to see who came in.

‘Fuck’ you think as you look away and try to hide yourself when you notice your ex walk in with some of his friends.

You try to hide behind your laptop, “he didn’t see me, he didn’t see me” you quietly tell yourself but hear him excusing himself from his friends, “he didn’t see me...”

You feel someone towering over you and you look up from your laptop.

“Hey y/n”

‘Goddammit... not now’

“Hey Azami” you reply as you put on a fake smile.

“What're you doing here?” he asks as he rudely takes a seat in front of you.

“What do you want, Azami?” you say getting frustrated and ignoring his question.

“Ouch,” he says pretending to be fake hurt and laughs. When he notices that you haven't even cracked a smile, he continues, “you haven't been answering my calls or texts”

“Well, we did break up months ago, and I told you not to contact me anymore, so I don’t know what you were expecting” you answer annoyed and check your phone to see if Bokuto sent you anymore messages about when he was getting there.

“I already apologized for what I did, y/n,” he starts, “it didn’t mean anything, I swe-”

You cut him off, “okay, I don’t have time for this,” you say getting fed up already, and you get up and start packing your stuff.

He grabs your wrist, “Wait, let me expl-”

“Don’t touch me!” you exclaim as you cut him off again and try to get him to let go of your wrist.

“You’re not even listening to me, I-” he is cut off once again, but this time it wasn’t you.

Someone grabs his wrist and snatches it off yours.

You look up and notice Akaashi standing next to you, “Is there a problem here?” he asks in a serious tone. Even with his unreadable face, this time you can feel how serious and annoyed he looked.

‘What is he doing here now’ you think, feeling embarrassed that he caught you in this awkward situation.

Out of any situation you could've been in, this is how you guys accidentally run into each other. Figures.

Azami quietly chuckles, visibly annoyed, “I’m just tryna talk to y/n, so,” he glares at Akaashi, but keeps an innocent smile on his face. He then looks back at you and before he says anything he gets cut off, once again.

“Well, it seems like y/n doesn’t want to talk to you right now, so,” Akaashi replies back.

“What’re you? The boyfriend or something?” he says seemingly getting more annoyed.

“Yes” you reply without thinking and curse yourself in your head.

You just wanted Azami to leave quickly and you didn’t think about it when you answered.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid, why would you even say yes’

You feel Akaashi stiffen and both of them snap their heads at you.

You look at Akaashi apologetically and turn to face Azami, “So just leave us alone, will you?” you try to confidently say, and hope Azami hasn’t noticed the confused look on Akaashi’s face.

Azami just stares between the both of you for a few moments before he sighs in frustration, “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you and apologize again, about everything, so answer my calls sometime, alright?” he says as he turns around and goes back to his friends before you get the chance to reject his request.

As soon as he leaves, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

‘At least he’s gone, for now’ you sigh to yourself.

“Oh,” your head snaps to Akaashi, and notice him still looking at you, “I’m really sorry about that” you tell him embarrassed and look down.

“It’s fine” he sighs and takes the seat opposite of yours.

You look at him confused before you sit down again, placing your bag back down next to you, “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Bokuto told me you wanted to meet us here” he says casually and starts looking over the menu in front of him.

“Me?” you ask, even more confused, and he just looks up at you.

‘Fuck, he has such pretty eyes’ you think to yourself.

‘Wait what am I even thinking right now’ you curse yourself again and look away, feeling your face turn a bit red.

“Was I not invited?” you hear him ask, disrupting you from your thoughts.

“No, it's not that-!” you answer quickly.

“I’ll go order something then, you want anything?” Akaashi says as he gets up.

You feel a pair of eyes staring at you. You turn and find Azami glaring at the both of you. He doesn’t even turn away when you notice, and just smirks.

“I’ll come with,” you tell Akaashi as you get up as well.

He just nods and you head to the counter.

You tell the barista your order and then Akaashi starts ordering.

You can’t help but feel eyes on you again and you turn to Azami.

But this time Akaashi steps back and blocks your line of sight and you look up at him.

“You know, if you want him to stop looking, you should stop as well” he says as he looks at you with his piercing blue eyes.

You feel yourself slightly blush under his gaze and look away as soon as you notice how close your faces were.

“Yeah, you’re right...” you answer quietly and try to look at him from the corner of your eye. You notice him smirking.

After your orders were paid for and done, you grab your drinks and walk back to your booth.

It gets quiet, except for the occasional sips you both take from your drinks.

You awkwardly shift in your seat and feel the need to break the silence.

“Thanks, by the way,” you start and he looks up from his drink, “for you know, helping me out, and not saying anything about not being my actual boyfriend”

“It’s nothing,” he says casually as he looks out the window next to your booth, and you can't help but notice a small blush appearing on his cheek.

‘What... what even kind of expression is that? He looks so fucking cute? I didn’t even know he can make that kind of expressi-’

“Hey kids!” you hear someone say as they run over to you, dragging you back to reality, and making you choke on your drink as you notice what you were even thinking about.

Both you and Akaashi notice it’s Bokuto when he gets to your table, then he pushes you to the inside booth seat.

“How are my best friends getting along with each other?” he asks you excitedly.

‘Ah, so that was his lame plan of getting us to get along better?’ you shake your head at him.

“Hey Bo, I thought we have a history project to finish here” you glare at him and he smiles innocently.

“I thought Akaashi could help us as well, considering we have so little time” Bokuto tells you, getting even more excited for some reason.

‘Ah... if only he knew he actually put Akaashi and I in an even more awkward situation than we were in before’

“Uhm... I’m actually pretty bad at history...” Akaashi quietly mentions as he looks at you and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute he looked right then.

Both of them look at you confused.

“Anyways, we should start, shouldn’t we?” You ask Bokuto and he just sadly sighs.

-~-~-

A couple of hours pass by as you try to finish the project but you were all sharing laughs and jokes in between, which would explain why it was definitely taking more time than is needed for it to be done.

But honestly, it was the first time you felt like you and Akaashi were getting along easily, so even though you were annoyed with Bokuto inviting him without telling you, you were still grateful it gave you both a chance to get to know each other better, or just enjoy each other's company.

It wasn’t much, it wasn’t like all of a sudden, you became besties, but it was definitely better than before, when you both could barely keep a conversation going.

It was mostly the both of you sharing funny and embarrassing situations you’ve been through with Bokuto, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. And honestly being able to get a laugh or two from Akaashi, definitely made it worth it.

‘No wait, why did I even think that’

“Excuse me guys, I'll just head to the restroom for a bit” you say as you look at Bokuto, motioning him to let you out of the booth.

“Nooo... don’t leaveee! The story’s just about to get better!” he whines as you push him off his seat to leave the booth.

“I'm literally coming back,” you shake your head and look at Akaashi, “Keep him in check while I'm away, yeah?”

Akaashi just chuckles and nods while Bokuto pouts at you.

“Come backk!” you hear Bokuto jokingly cry as you head to the restroom area and you shake your head at him.

You pass through the café to a hallway where the restrooms are located and feel someone grab your wrist, “Bo, I literally told you I'm gonna go ba-” you turn around and notice your ex standing there instead.

You instantly stiffen and push his hand off your wrist.

“Stop touching me” you snap at him.

He looks down, “I'm sorry, y/n, I just honestly want you to know that whatever you saw happen with that girl at the party, wasn’t my fault. She pushed herself on me! I promise!” he desperately pleads.

As bad as you wanted to feel pity for him, you couldn’t. “That doesn’t explain the texts, DMs, and everything else you did while we were still together. We both know that probably wasn’t the first time you did it. It was just the first time you got caught.”

He looked up at you, speechless for a moment, “But I've changed now, it’s different” he says as he slowly tries to reach for your hand once again.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hear someone say sternly, then you notice Akaashi walking up behind Azami and puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from grabbing your hand again.

“Babe, you should go ahead” Akaashi says as he nods to the restroom area.

Skip

You nod, and Akaashi just shoots you a soft smile before Azami pushes Akaashi's hand off his shoulder. You turn around and slowly run to the restrooms.

You wash your face.

Once.

Twice.

‘Babe?’

‘Did he really just say babe?’

‘And why did your heart skip a beat again when he did??’

You wash your face again and look up at the mirror above the sink.

‘And why the hell are you getting flustered like this?’

You chuckle at yourself.

“This is ridiculous,” you sigh to yourself as you turn off the tap, “you don’t actually like him, do you?” you ask yourself as you look at the mirror again.

I mean that might explain why you found it hard to talk to him at school, or trying to keep the conversation going when you did. Maybe it wasn’t him that was the problem, it was... you?

“I’m just overthinking this,” you sigh to yourself again.

You grab a paper towel and dry your face off.

“Okay,” you clear your throat as you reach for the door handle, “don't overthink things, you're barely even friends as is” you whisper to yourself as you open the door.

You notice Akaashi leaning against the wall in the hallway where you left him and Azami earlier. He looks like he’s intently thinking about something.

‘Pretty...’

Skip

You clear your throat as you close the door behind you, which looks like it also snapped his attention back to you and you notice him smile softly.

‘Don’t smile at me like that...’

“Were you waiting for something?” you ask him as you slowly walk to him.

“Yeah, you” he says as he straightens up and turns back to head to the café.

Skip

-~-~-

It was starting to get late, and you and Bokuto were almost done with the history project at that point, after hours of half working and half messing around with each other and Akaashi.

Even though at the beginning, you were iffy and kind of annoyed with Bokuto for sneakily inviting Akaashi without telling you, you couldn’t help but feel thankful for him because it turned out to be a fun hangout.

Even though your ex was there, and usually, even the thought of him would sour your mood, if not your whole day, this time you actually felt somewhat safe? You knew that Akaashi was definitely the reason for that, even with the occasional feeling of stares you felt, it didn’t really bother you as much.

Though this hangout made you also realize you might have a thing for Akaashi, you tried to push that thought away every time your thoughts wandered.

I mean you guys were finally getting along, and you didn’t want to jeopardize this blooming friendship between you guys for something stupid, like your heart skipping a beat every time he would look at you and smile, or the way he laughed, or the accidental touches you would have when he would point out something on your laptop screen.

That would just be stupid.

“Alright Bo, all you have left is to add the citations at the end of the report. I saved all the sites and documents we used here” you tell him as you point on the screen.

“Y/n, you literally are a life-saver!” Bokuto exclaims as he jumps on you for a hug.

Your eyes accidentally land on Akaashi and you notice him looking annoyed as he looks at Bokuto. Your eyes meet and he looks away.

‘I’m just making this up in my head at this point, right?’

“Alright, alright, Bo! Get off!” you chuckle as you push him off you, “Just please promise me you'll finish your part in our final project on time”

“No promises” you hear Bokuto quietly say.

“HEY!” you laugh as you hit him on the back of his head.

“I’m joking, don’t hate me~” he laughs as he links his arm with yours.

“Stop trying to be cute” you say, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“Yeah, stop that” Akaashi says seriously as he continues to look away and take a sip from his drink.

‘Is he actually pouting right now?’

“Why are you pouting right now?” Bokuto asks Akaashi, as if he heard my thoughts.

“I’m not” Akaashi says finally looking up.

Bokuto just shrugs it off, but doesn’t notice the slight blush on Akaashi’s cheeks.

“Anyways,” Bokuto checks his watch, and his eyes go wide, “Oh my god, its 11pm already, I have early practice tomorrow!”

“We’re done anyways, so you can go” you tell him.

“But... I won't be able to walk you to your dorm...” Bokuto says as he pouts.

“Hey its fine, it isn't far anyways, I can walk back alone-”

“I’ll walk you back,” Akaashi interjects out of nowhere.

Me and Bokuto both look at him.

“No, it’s fine, I can-” you try to reply but get cut off again

“Right, you both live in the same student dorm accommodation, don’t you?” Bokuto says as he suddenly remembers.

‘Do we?’

You don’t think you've ever seen him go there, though they usually do finish volleyball practice late so, that might be the case.

“Yeah, we do” Akaashi replies casually.

“That’s perfect, thanks Akaashi, look after y/n for me, would you?” Bokuto says and Akaashi nods as a reply.

“Guys, seriously, I'm ok-”

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Bokuto says as he gets up and hurriedly grabs his things, “and y/n, send me the project with the links so I can finish it off later, alright?”

I nod and he excitedly runs for the door before he waves us a final goodbye.

You sigh as you check the time on your phone, “time passed by really fast, huh?” you say to yourself but you hear Akaashi agree with you.

I guess time really does go fast when you're having fun, and honestly, you really didn’t want the night to end yet.

You turn to Akaashi as you get up and start packing your things.

“How did you know we live in the same dorm accommodation? I don’t remember ever seeing you go there” you ask him curiously.

“Bokuto mentioned you stay there a couple of times,” he continued, “and I usually go there late, around this time maybe? When I'm done with practice or schoolwork”

Ah... just as you thought...

“You really don’t have to walk me back, by the way, it’s fine” you say. Though that’s not true, you were kind of happy he offered.

You cursed that thought.

“We are going the same way anyway, wouldn’t hurt to make sure you get home safe while I'm at it” he says as he smiles at you.

Skip

‘Get that sweet smile off your face right now’

“Thanks,” you say as you look away flustered.

You hear him chuckle.

‘Is he purposely teasing me right now?’

“Why are you laughing?” you eye him curiously.

“You just look cute, when you get all flustered” he says smiling as he grabs the rest of your books from the table.

“I'm- I'm not flustered!” you say, quite flustered.

He chuckles even louder this time.

“Whatever” you say quietly, as you look away from him, pouting.

“Ready to go?” Akaashi asks when you grab everything.

You nod and try to take your books from him.

He just moves back, and takes the bag you were holding instead and throws it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says as he starts walking to the door.

You try to catch up with him, feeling confused.

He opens the door and motions you to leave first, as he smiles.

You walk out the door and he follows you right after.

You keep following him with a confused look on your face and he nods towards the café, where you find your ex staring at you both.

“Oh... I didn’t even notice he was still there” you say quietly.

“I guess that’s a good thing, right?” Akaashi smiles at you, and you both start walking to your student dorm accommodation.

When you’re finally out of your ex’s sight, you reach for your bag again.

Akaashi doesn’t let go of it, however.

“It’s fine, he can't see us anymore” you tell him.

“I’m sure you’re tired, I don’t mind holding your things” he replies casually.

Skip

‘Ahh... stop being so nice to me, I can’t handle it’

“It feels like I’m taking advantage of you now” you reply sadly.

He just chuckles, “I want to do it, you're not forcing me”

You sigh.

“I wanna apologize,” you start and Akaashi just looks at you, “and thank you again for helping me out today”

“It’s no big deal,” he looks back straight ahead “I'm glad I could help”

You walk for a few minutes in comfortable silence, when Akaashi speaks up again.

“I accidently overheard you guys,” he looks at you again and you look at him confused, “in the hallway, when you talked about what happened between the both of you”

“Oh...” you sigh as you look back on the street ahead of you.

“Hey, you did nothing wrong you know,” he continues, “actually, I find it quite attractive that you stood your ground and didn’t stay, or fall for his sorry bullshit”

Skip

‘Not right now, stupid heart’

“Thanks,” you say trying to sound calm but you can feel your heart beating fast.

‘Did he just say he found me attractive? No wait, he said he found the action attractive... but I mean, if you think about it, it was me who did the action so-’

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt Akaashi gently grab your hand to stop you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks worriedly, “I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t wanna talk about, I don’t even know why I mentioned it, I was-”

“No, it's fine,” you interrupt his rambling, it wasn’t like it was his fault your ex was there. If anything, he helped you get your mind off of it all. “I was just thinking about something else” you say as you look down and notice his hand was still holding yours.

Skip

‘oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’

He lets go of your hand as soon as he notices you staring at it, “sorry,” you hear him mumble as he starts walking again.

‘What are you 5? SNAP OUT OF IT’

You run to catch up to him and notice a small blush on his cheeks even though he was trying to look away from you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?” he says as he looks at you.

“You just look cute, when you get all flustered” you say, quoting his line.

“Hey, you can't use my line against me” he pouts, and you couldn’t help but chuckle again, and he joins in seconds later.

After about ten minutes of walking, and small talk, you get to your dorm building.

‘Dammit... I wish it were further’

“So,” you sigh as you stop and turn around in front of Akaashi, “this is me, I guess.”

‘Stop me, stop me, I know it’s late but stop me...’

“Right,” he says and you notice him hesitate.

You mentally sigh.

“Yeah, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow” you smile and he nods.

You turn around and start walking to the building.

“Wait!” you hear Akaashi call out.

‘Yes!’

You turn around excitedly and notice Akaashi taking off your bag to hand it to you with your books.

‘Wow, I'm a fucking idiot’

“Right, I forgot,” you say and chuckle nervously. He smiles as he hands you your things.

You shove the books in your bag, and throw it over your shoulder, slightly disappointed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage to smile then turn around, embarrassed and try to rush to get inside the building.

You then feel him grab your hand and gently pull you back, “Wait,” he says again, before you accidentally bump into each other in the process of him turning you around to face him.

“Sorry,” he quickly says and pulls you into his chest before you start to fall back from the force of the both of you bumping into each other.

Skip

He takes a step back, “You okay? Sorry if I pulled you too hard” he asks you worriedly as he stares into your eyes.

‘I told you not to look at me like that...’

“It’s okay, I’m fine” you say as you quickly look down, flustered, and notice him, for the second time that evening, holding your hand.

‘It’s so warm, I don’t wanna let go...’ you think before your thoughts are interrupted with him trying to let go of your hand as soon as he probably noticed you staring at it again.

“Sor-” he starts before you boldly grab hold of his hand again, not allowing him to let go.

‘Why... why did I just do that??’

You feel your face heating up, but you don’t feel him letting go. You slowly try to look up at him and notice his face turned away.

‘Is his face red right now as well?’

It was too dark to fully tell but you were sure there was a tinge of red on his cheeks.

Skip

You didn’t want to let go but you were too embarrassed, and you weren't even sure if he felt anything or was just standing there shocked or flustered.

“Uhm, my bad...” you say flustered, and try to let go of his hand this time.

“Fuck it,” you hear him whisper to himself, but it was still audible to you. Probably because it was so late and nobody can be seen or heard outside, in that moment everything was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

He interlocked his hand with yours before you had the chance to let go and pulled you to his chest again.

You look up at him, shocked, and you were met with his piercing blue eyes yet again.

Skip

‘So close... So pre-’

“Pretty” you hear him whisper, as if he was completing your thought.

‘Wait, is he talking about me?’

You feel your face heat up again, and your heart beat like crazy, not that it died down since the last few minutes.

You see him smile softly, “you’re getting all flustered again” he says with a smirk on his face.

“Are you teasing me again?” you say looking away as you try to push him back but he pulls you back again.

“No,” he chuckles and you can feel his free hand touching the red of your cheeks, “It’s cute”

Skip Skip Skip Skip

You meet his piercing gaze again with a look of bemusement on your face. And this time you can see it much clearer, the redness of his cheeks as well.

‘What’s happening right now, there’s no way he...’

You feel his hand cupping your face before you get to finish that thought.

“You can tell me to stop, if you don’t like this,” he says, staring at your lips, as he slowly starts leaning down.

Skip Skip Skip Skip

He stops right before your lips meet; and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

He looks back at your eyes for a moment, and when he doesn’t see any hesitation coming from you, he closes the space between your lips.

You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his lips travel like a shiver all across your body. You could swear that if he wasn’t holding you this close, you would've passed out.

It wasn’t even deep, it was short, warm and sweet, but somehow you feel like it was something you’ve been waiting for, for a very long time.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and you open your eyes, dazed.

You notice him smiling and then he bites his lip, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, actually” he says quietly as he stares into your eyes.

You somehow feel your face get even hotter, “same” you quietly whisper.

You notice you said it out loud and you quickly cover your mouth with your free hand.

He chuckles, and you push him back lightly, “You’re teasing me now” you tell him as you look away, pouting.

“I’m not, I promise,” he says as he guides your face with his free hand back to face him, “I mean it.”

“I thought you didn’t like me...”

“Me?” he asks, looking confused.

“I don’t know, I'd always find you glaring at me when we pass in the school halls, or whenever I'm with Bo during lunch or during his practices...”

He just chuckles softly, “I guess I understand why you’d think that,” he says, looking like he’s thinking seriously about it, “I think, I just found it hard trying to get close to you, or try and get your attention. I mean, you're friends with Bokuto for god’s sake, the king of attention,” he says and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘That is true, no one can beat Bokuto at attention seeking’

“And by the way,” he continues, “I wasn’t glaring, I was admiring”

Skip

You look away, getting flustered again and you hear him chuckle. “I swear you're doing this on purpose” you sigh and you hear him chuckle louder.

You look down and notice his hand still intertwined with yours, but this time he doesn’t let go when he notices you staring.

‘This is too much for my heart right now.’

‘If this is a dream, however, then I don’t want to wake up yet...’

“I should, head back now, though. It's... getting late, so...” you say as you look back at him.

“Right,” he says as you both slowly start to let go of each other's hand, “I can, uh, pick you up before school, tomorrow, you know, so we can go there together, if you'd like” he says, or asks(?) as he scratches the back of his head.

‘God, he’s so fucking cute...’

“Sure,” you answer him, trying to sound cool and calm on the outside but you're actually freaking out on the inside.

“Alright,” he says looking happy, and he nods towards your dorm building, “I’ll watch you go in”

“Alright,” you don’t really know how to say goodbye, so you just turn around and take a few steps towards the building

‘Do it coward. I mean you just kissed why are you even getting embarrassed now. Wait did we just kiss??? Okay don’t go off topic, just... fuck it’

You turn back and run to where Akaashi’s standing, he looks at you confused but you just reach for his face and place a kiss on his cheek.

You feel him stiffen at first but then relax as he gives you a flustered chuckle, “BYE!” you half scream before you run into the dorm building without looking back.

As soon as you reach your room, you throw your bag on the floor, jump on your bed and start screaming onto your pillow.

After a few minutes of you trying to calm yourself down, you flip over and stare at your ceiling.

‘I can’t believe this just happened...’

You take out your phone to text Bo, not necessarily to tell him what happened, but to share your excitement, and you notice 2 new text messages.

2 NEW MESSAGES

You open the first one.

FROM ‘Baka-to’: “Hey, idiot, did you get home safe? You still haven't texted me. Anyways sorry for surprising you with Akaashi today, I just definitely thought you guys would get along, and you did, didn’t you? Didn’t I do well? Hohohoho anyways text me back, idiot”

You shake your head at him, but cant help but agree.

REPLY TO ‘Baka-to’: “You were right, as always, I love you dumbo. And I got home in one piece, no worries”

You then open the second message.

FROM ‘Akaashi Keiji’: “Hey pretty, I’ll be waiting for you at 6:30 a.m tomorrow morning, see you then. Sleep tight”

You grab your pillow again and scream into it.

‘I never want to wake up from this dream’ you think as you slowly drift to sleep.

(HQ Masterlist)

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi #akaashi scenarios #haikyuu akaashi #fluff #i cried at least 10 times while writing this okay #haikyu oneshot #haikyuu oneshot #hq bf #mi

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high-functioning-lokipath · 4 years ago

Text

SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!"

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor.

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had.

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank.

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg.

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing.

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly.

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind.

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat.

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself.

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write."

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter.

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?"

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him.

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied.

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded.

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!"

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door.

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly.

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked.

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator.

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in.

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along.

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered.

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again.

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion.

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?"

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it.

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away.

"You'll have to come here to get another!"

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder.

"See? You did just fine!"

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled.

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

#sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson x reader #john watson #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic

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sanktnikolais · 4 years ago

Text

Fool Truth

A/N: yep this is an old work to cover up the fact that i haven’t been able to write anything new ;-; so have this for now

set in the same universe as this other fic

Word count: 2176

Nikolai is tired of hearing his father's nonsense about his need to get married every time he sees him. So when the universe allowed his father to reprimand him about marriage again, Nikolai is able to say an excuse that would get him out of the situation and put him in a more complicated one.

Nikolai was ready to bolt from the battlefield.

To hell with dessert, he thought, and yet his feet were still planted on the ground. Even after years of being away from their household, he could say he had missed their old, grumpy cook Baghra's chocolate mousse cake.

Maybe he should try holding on a bit longer, but one look from the man at the head of the table was only making running look like the most reasonable choice.

He braced himself over his father's next words, all too aware of what they would be.

"I've been talking to one of our partners yesterday," Alexander Lantsov started, his tone neutral as if he was delivering a monologue during one of their board meetings. He gave Nikolai an expectant look. "She's agreed to introduce you to her daughter."

Nikolai felt his jaw tick in annoyance. He had expected this from his father; it was already old news. If there was one thing he got from him, it was stubbornness, and it was one of the rare times Nikolai hated inheriting that same trait.

Alexander continued to stare at him, and Nikolai could feel the gaze getting heavier with each second.

"Don't you ever get tired of trying to set me up with random people?" He put down his fork beside his plate as gently as possible even when slamming it down was inviting. "Because I'm exhausted, dad. Just drop it."

The atmosphere in the room grew darker, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. Nikolai should have declined coming here, but his mother had insisted and she was sometimes the only one who could make the household a bit more bearable for him.

He looked over to his older brother from across the table, seeing the amused smirk on Vasily's lips as he toyed with the glass of wine in his hand. Being the eldest came with a life perk; he was free to do anything he wanted and as he pleased. Whether it's scandalous or the barest minimum for their company, he would still be the favorite one.

Where his brother was pertained as Perfect Vasily, Nikolai was always Nikolai Nothing. Someone who would never appease his father's expectations of him.

So much for being the unfavorable second son.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, already losing his appetite. He regarded Vasily with a nod. "Why won’t he be the one you introduce to your partner's daughter?" he said. "Besides, isn't he the one who will inherit all this? I think it's better for him to get married for a potential merging, and I see no benefit for anyone if I were to be engaged to someone of a big name."

Alexander huffed in disbelief as if he just said the stupidest thing in the world. "You still don't get it, do you?" he said, his voice dropping to what it could sound was a threatening one. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“Oh, wow. Really now?” Nikolai’s voice had already risen, and it earned a look of warning from his mother but he didn’t bother acknowledging it. The rush of blood in his ears was raging. “My own good or for your own? As far as I remember, Lantsov Trading’s image wasn’t looking so good because of a certain scandal in one of the famous clubs in the city.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vasily shift uncomfortably in his seat and Nikolai basked in the triumph of seeing his perfect big brother squirm. He fought the urge to smirk.

“Now tell me,” he goaded, not knowing where his confidence of talking back to his father was coming from, “is it for mine, or for your own image?”

“Hey,” Vasily snapped. “Watch your mouth, Nikolai.”

But Nikolai was having none of it and gave his older brother a pointed glance. “Shut it, I’m not talking to you.”

The look of shock on Vasily’s face was priceless and Nikolai would have etched it in his mind if it weren’t for his anger taking over. He turned back to his father, whose face was now twisted into a full scowl as if he could lunge at Nikolai anytime he wanted to. Nikolai thought he could try to poke the beast out of its cage a bit more and see where it would go.

He put on an easy grin, the kind that he knew ticked at his father’s patience. “Please enlighten me, dad.”

“You are no use in this family if you’re just going to continue your hobbies and not focus on doing important matters—”

“Like trying to live quietly without you breathing down my neck and forcing me to marriage?”

Alexander was visibly fuming, and Nikolai had to commend him for holding back. “You will not disgrace our name with your lack of achievements,” his father growled. Nikolai felt the words sting at his pride but he didn’t dare let it show. “Comply, else I will cut you off.”

Nikolai chuckled humorlessly. Finally, something that makes sense. He put his hands up and shrugged. “Then cut me off. I’d gladly take it, father.”

This somehow drained the last of his father’s patience because the old man almost threw the table up when he stood, his expression darker than the stormy sky. “You will comply whether you like it or not—”

“I’m already married.”

Everything went silent. Even breathing wasn’t even audible, as if everyone just decided to hold their breaths or some invisible force had forced them to stop breathing.

And for Nikolai, he might as well have stopped breathing. Panic overwhelmed the anger in his mind.

Shitshitshitshitshit—

The only thing keeping him from going insane and bolting off from their old home was the look of utter shock on their faces. It was one of the rare times they gave him their full attention, and Nikolai felt bitter when he realized it was a blatant lie that would make it happen again.

But it didn’t change the fact the words he had just blurted out of control.

You’re an idiot, Nikolai, an all too familiar voice echoed in his head, and for once, he found that he agreed with it.

Another long moment passed. Nikolai’s legs were already shaking violently from under the table but he refused to break eye contact with his father. Doing so would only make his lie more uncertain than it already was.

“What did you just say?” Alexander asked him when he finally found his voice. His grip on the table became impossibly tighter.

The calmness in Nikolai’s voice surprised even himself when he replied, “I said I’m already married.”

“Since when?” his father asked in disbelief. “And to whom?”

Nikolai was already expecting that question, and yet he still didn’t have anything to cover up for it. Who would he say? It wasn’t as if he had anyone that was convincing enough to be his girlfriend, let alone his wife. He had just dug his own grave with his recklessness and his family would see him lay rest in it.

You should’ve run when you had the chance, Lantsov, he silently berated himself as he continued to rack his mind for an answer.

Apparently, his distress didn’t go unnoticed by Vasily, as Nikolai could feel his gaze on him, and when he turned, he saw the first signs of a smirk on his older brother’s lips. If there was another thing Nikolai hated from his brother, it was Vasily always seeming to see right through everything.

Maybe he should just say something snarky enough to make them drop the subject—he didn’t owe them an explanation, not after treating him like he didn’t belong to their lives. He could just tell them to give up and leave it at that. He wouldn't mind another argument that would follow if it means straying from the current subject.

But of course, knowing his family, they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.

Vasily huffed, catching everyone’s attention. He almost looked like he was about to say something more when Nikolai’s ringtone blared.

With a startled glance down his pants pocket, he slowly got his phone. The caller ID at the top of the screen glared at him in big letters.

Attorney Grumpy.

A thought suddenly formed in his head. He hesitated for a second when he realized he was going to get himself killed with the idea. But he figured that if he was going to die either way, he would prefer it to be by her hand.

Nikolai put on his usual grin. “Look,” he said, waving his phone up for emphasis, “she’s actually calling me.” He slid the answer icon to the right and put the phone to his ear, trying to keep his hand from shaking. He mustered up his most cheery tone. “Yes, dear?”

A beat, and then, “Are you still in that family dinner and somehow gotten drunk?” Zoya asked incredulously, and Nikolai had to fight off a wince from hearing her tone. He opened his mouth to reply, but it seemed like she already knew his answer. “Because I’m not fixing your shit if you ever do something beyond compare. But I would make an exception if it involves punching your brother.”

Her statement made him laugh genuinely, and the looks his family was giving him only became more curious. “What’s up?”

“I’m crashing over tonight.”

He waited for another moment before answering something that would surely be the reason for his death later. But he had to keep up the pretense going. “I know that all too well, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon. No need to miss me that much.”

Zoya didn’t answer him right away, and he could already imagine the scowl on her face as she processed his words, and she was most likely thinking of the ways to murder him too. “Lantsov, what the fuck are you blabbering about?”

One of his legs was already down the grave, and Nikolai sent a silent prayer to any deity who could hear him. Please protect me from her wrath later. He tried to smile, but he was sure it looked more of a grimace. “Yes, dear. I’ll be home in a bit.” He risked a furtive glance to his older brother, who was still looking at him quite suspiciously. And to sound more convincing, he went along with his instincts and blurted, “Love you.”

Then he ended the call before he could be given an earful of curses that would send his mother to a dead faint if she would ever hear it. As he put his phone back in his pocket, he could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. Whether it was over his nervousness over the mess he’d thrown himself into or the last words he told Zoya, he didn’t know.

When he turned his attention back to his brother, he found that Vasily had his eyebrows raised as if he still didn’t want to believe about Nikolai’s married status. Nikolai challenged his brother’s look with his own, and a moment later, Vasily huffed and shook his head.

Alexander glared down at Nikolai, a mixture of rage and confusion in his eyes, but it was the former that overwhelmed his gaze. “Who is she?” he asked, his tone demanding and angry. Nikolai suddenly felt nervous for no reason. His gut told him that there was something bad about to happen. An angry Alexander Lantsov wasn’t a man to be messed with, and Nikolai had just taunted the beast out of its cage. “And why didn’t you tell us?”

A wave of protectiveness washed over Nikolai, and he glared back at his father as he said, “So you can break the marriage before it even happened? I don’t think so.”

He grabbed the napkin at the side and used it to wipe at his hands before standing up. He was as tall as his father, but the old man always had the power to make someone shrink under his gaze, but Nikolai didn’t let it faze him.

The scowl on Alexander’s face deepened. “Where are you going?”

“Why, home to my wife, of course. She’s waiting,” replied Nikolai with a sneer, and he could already sense the last remains of his father’s patience dwindling with the way he gripped the table again. But Nikolai was disappointed when Alexander didn’t decide to act out on it. Politely, he said, “Thank you for dinner.”

With a final smile in his mother’s direction, he walked out of the dining room without as much as a glance back. When he felt that he was finally out of their sight, he let out a relieved breath. But there was still no denying that his hands were trembling as he got out of the mansion, and it wasn’t from the cold.

What had he just gotten himself into?

Nikolai shook himself out of his daze. At least he was out of their tight hold around his neck.

For now.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #fake married au #I DONT HAVE ANY NEW CONTENT #SO HAVE THIS OLD ONE #FROM MY FAKE MARRIED AU #sigh idk #no energy #and burnt out season #that's why no new content T-T #will still keep trying for this fandom for another few months maybe HAHAHAH

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. “I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander’s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #had to have yasmina in here at some stage!

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bevioletskies · 4 years ago

Text

meet me halfway (across the sky)

summary: Video calls back home were a rare treat for Apollo, considering how busy his life in Khura’in could be. Catching up with Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix was one thing. Getting a sudden call from Klavier was another. And talking to Klavier every day for hours about everything they never knew about each other was possibly the most unexpected thing of all.

word count: 12k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day five of seven (prompt: "parallels"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

Mild spoiler warning for Spirit of Justice, along with implied spoilers for Dual Destinies. Fic title is from the song Meet Me Half Way by Kenny Loggins.

“Uh, Mr. Wright, you’re way too close to the screen. Can you sit back a little?”

“Oops - sorry, Apollo! Still not used to this kind of technology, heh.”

“Sheesh, Daddy, you make yourself sound ancient - ”

“Ah! Did you guys start already? Attendez-moi!”

Chuckling, Apollo leaned back in his seat and waited while the three of them rearranged themselves in front of their webcam. He’d missed this, this camaraderie that he didn’t quite have with his current companions in Khura’in. There was something immensely comforting about it, about every time he managed to schedule a video call with everyone back home. It didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, given how busy they all were, how tricky the time difference could be, but when it did, it was the best part of Apollo’s week.

“Hey, guys,” Apollo said, waving sleepily. “What’s been going on?” He leaned closer, peering at his screen. “...Athena, why do you have a banana sticker on your forehead?”

“Why don’t you have a banana sticker on your forehead?” Athena retorted, peeling hers off with a flourish. “Anyway, everything’s been sehr gut! We’ve had, hm...I think four clients since we last talked? All acquitted, of course!”

“Anything interesting?” Apollo asked. “I’ve had twelve clients, myself.”

Phoenix frowned. “I’m...not so sure that’s a good thing. Are you getting enough sleep? I can’t imagine you having that many cases and not mixing them up. Keeping track of evidence alone must be a nightmare!”

“It’s been...a process,” Apollo said diplomatically, trying not to think about the dozens of folders he had on both his desktop and his actual desk that needed to be sorted in a way that made some semblance of sense. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Wright, I-I’m fine!”

“Famous last words,” Trucy huffed. “Polly, you need rest! We want you back home in one piece, after all.”

“At least I’m not accepting odd jobs anymore,” Apollo chuckled. “I don’t mind helping someone set up their internet or move their couch every now and then, but I can’t do everything.” He startled suddenly at the sound of his phone going off. “Oh - sorry, one sec.” His brows knitted together when he read the call display: Klavier Gavin.

“Apollo? Is something wrong?” Athena asked, concerned.

“I - uh…” Apollo hesitated, unsure of what to do. “I’m gonna mute myself for a second, hang on.” He did just that, then answered his phone. “Gavin? Are you...wait. Did you call me by accident?”

There was a long, lingering silence. Then, ��Ach, I only just realized what time it is where you are. I should’ve texted first, ja?”

“Yeah, probably,” Apollo said, laughing awkwardly. “Is this, uh, urgent? It’s just - I’m in the middle of a video call, so…”

“Nein, nein, not all!” Klavier’s voice was too loud, too sharp. Apollo didn’t need to see his face to know what that meant. “You know what? Forget I called, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Apollo protested, frowning. “If you wanna talk for whatever reason, we can - ”

“I have somewhere I need to be, anyway, so, er - Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” Klavier quickly hung up before Apollo could get a word in edgewise. He stared at his phone, perplexed, before unmuting himself. The others looked as confused as he was.

“What happened?” Phoenix asked.

“...Prosecutor Gavin called me?” Apollo shook himself a little. “I’ll get back to him later, so - anyway, what were we talking about?”

_____

Three days passed before Klavier responded to the inquiring text message Apollo had sent him after he’d finished talking to the others. He still didn’t seem ready to talk about it - whatever it was - but he did suggest they do a video call of their own, to which Apollo agreed. Something about Klavier’s behavior was bothering him, and he was more curious about it than he expected to be.

“Forehead? You’re staring, achtung. I know I’m handsome, but you should really keep those eyes of yours under control. They’re going to get you in trouble someday, I’m sure of it.”

“I - ” Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Gavin? That’s how we’re starting this?”

“It was you who started it,” Klavier said petulantly, his tone not unlike a five-year-old’s. But really, Apollo couldn’t stop staring - not because of Klavier’s looks; he’d long made peace with how attractive he thought Klavier was and how much he didn’t want Klavier to know, but because of how tired Klavier seemed. Apollo had expected him to be in his usual “uniform”, his silver jewelry and perfect makeup and impeccably styled hair. Instead, Klavier was wearing an oversized sweater, his hair up in a loose topknot, his face completely bare. He still had that lazy, slightly flirtatious smile on his face, but he was slouching quite a bit, his arms loosely wrapped around his propped-up knee. With his cracked lips, acne scars, and hunched shoulders, he looked more human than Apollo had ever thought possible.

“How’ve you been?” Apollo asked, ignoring him. “I’m surprised you called. I haven’t heard from you in, like. Three months? Four? I swear, I’m losing all sense of time here.”

“Well, it’s not like we had a habit of talking in the first place, ja?” Klavier pointed out. “But...to borrow a phrase, I’m fine, though the courts have been so boring without you here. I almost miss the ringing ears I got after every single one of our trials.”

“Har, har,” Apollo drawled. “Congratulations, you and everyone else have broken me down into exactly two personality traits: sarcastic and loud. Are you proud of yourself?”

“You forgot ‘oblivious’,” Klavier supplied helpfully.

Apollo blinked. “...to what?” He blinked again. “Wait - ”

“Too late,” Klavier interrupted gleefully, beaming. “You’ve proven my point beautifully.” Apollo glared; not five minutes in, and he was already prepared to hang up. “Anyway, I’ve been sehr gut, for the most part. Work has been keeping me busy. You?”

“I’m pretty settled here by now,” Apollo said, shrugging. “It’s rough, y’know, trying to rebuild an entire legal system as the only defense attorney in the country, but, uh...at least I’m not completely alone. And as nerdy as it sounds, I’m actually really liking the work. Not the stress - that, I could do without - but the fact that I get to be a part of this big...thing. It’s exciting, I guess.”

“It’s not that nerdy,” Klavier reasoned. “Nerdy is reading law textbooks at night, under the covers. As a child.”

“...is it weird that I actually did that?” Apollo asked, wincing.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to blink, stunned. “Wait, really? I was talking about me.”

“Oh.” Apollo shifted in his seat, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed. I mean, obviously, I know you became a prosecutor at seventeen, but I just assumed you were a musical child prodigy and...I dunno, switched career paths at some point.”

Klavier let out a soft laugh. “Again, you flatter me, Herr Forehead, but I’m not a prodigy of any kind. Just some good old-fashioned hard work, you know?” He then frowned very slightly. “Though...I’ll admit, I’m not sure how much of my standing at the prosecutor’s office also came down to good old-fashioned nepotism. After all, Kristoph…” He trailed off, unwilling to say more.

Apollo shuddered. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get his former boss’s maniacal laughter out of his head. “Right, um...oh, have you had any interesting cases lately? Athena was telling me she had a literal gravedigger as a client - no prizes for guessing where the victim’s body was discovered…”

The next hour seemed to fly by surprisingly quickly, with the two of them exchanging light-hearted anecdotes about work. As it turned out, they’d both had many interesting cases since the last time they spoke. It wasn’t until Apollo could barely keep his eyes open that he realized what time it was.

“Ach, don’t let me keep you,” Klavier said when Apollo yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row. “You have work in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Wait, but - ” Apollo yawned yet again “ - but we never got around to...whatever it was you were calling about the first time. Your so-called ‘nothing’.”

Klavier’s expression sobered instantly, his mouth pulling back into a hard line. “I’m not going to bother lying to you, Apollo. But I’m not interested in telling you, either. So let’s leave it at that, ja?”

“I...oh.” Apollo nodded, feeling somewhat chastised. “Fine. Fine, we don’t have to - but if you wanna, y’know, catch up again sometime, let me know, okay? I’ve got time to talk. Er, I think.”

Klavier laughed, surprised, though his eyes were still wary. “Do you actually...miss me, Forehead?”

“You really know how to ruin a moment, Gavin,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, talk to you later...maybe. Haven’t decided on whether I actually want to anymore, jerk.”

Klavier continued to grin. “Auf Wiedersehen, baby.” Apollo tried not to think about how the last word had made him shiver.

Weeks went by before Apollo heard from Klavier again, a few days after he’d had a two-hour long call with Trucy. Apollo’s voice was a bit hoarse from all the talking he’d done - not to mention how angry he’d gotten in court just yesterday after a particularly smug witness tried to take over the entire trial - but nevertheless, he was surprised at how happy he was to see Klavier, a feeling he was mostly unfamiliar with.

“Do you have a cold?” Klavier asked. “Your voice sounds a bit strained and raspy.”

“My brain feels strained and raspy,” Apollo groaned. He then paused; for some reason, the exchange sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “It’s nothing, I just got pissed and yelled at someone in court yesterday. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“But isn’t yelling your default?” Klavier smirked. He looked more relaxed than last time, the tension in his face less noticeable. “I hope the rest of the trial went well, at least.”

“Oh, it didn’t,” Apollo said, snorting. “But...past’s in the past. I have too many cases to deal with to bother worrying about one crappy witness. My client was acquitted, I got the real culprit, you know the deal. It’s all starting to blur together, to be honest.”

“It sounds like you need to get out more,” Klavier suggested, not unkindly. “Is there any sort of...nightlife in Khura’in? Recreational activities, maybe? Don’t make me bother Fräulein Detective and get her to drag you to a bar every now and then.”

“We go out to eat or drink sometimes,” Apollo replied, shrugging. “But...I dunno. I don’t really have the time to take up a new hobby or whatever. My free time is for eating, sleeping, and catching up with people back home.”

“Fair enough, though you really should lighten your workload,” Klavier said sagely. “It’s not like you took cases every day when you were here, ja? I know Khura’in needs your help, but what good are you to them if you’re burnt out?”

Apollo’s eyes widened slightly, stupefied. Then, he tried - and failed - to stifle a laugh. “Okay, Dad. Sheesh, you sound like Mr. Wright trying to give me a pep talk.” He sat back in his seat, loosely running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, then, question for you - when’s the last time you took a day off?”

“I went to visit my parents last Saturday,” Klavier answered after taking a moment to think. “They needed help cleaning and packing away some of...some of his things.” He visibly swallowed, though he tried to hide it with a sharp cough. After some consideration, Apollo decided not to comment on it.

“That’s hardly a day off,” Apollo retorted instead. “I mean, it’s technically not work, but - wait. Do you usually work on weekends, too?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, confused. “Do you mean to say you don’t?”

“No, I - I work on weekends more than I should,” Apollo admitted. “But it’s kinda hypocritical of you to tell me to get out more when you don’t have much of a life, either, y’know. Also, are you seriously telling me you don’t have, like. Other things to do? People to see, places to be? Not that spending time with your parents is a bad thing, I-I mean, it’s cool that you do, it’s just...well.”

Klavier averted his eyes, reaching across his desk to pick up his mug of tea. He took his time with it, drinking at a leisurely pace, before finally speaking again. “Do you actually care to know, Forehead? Or are you just asking to ask?” he said evenly.

“I…” Apollo found himself caught off-guard by both the question and his own answer. “No, I actually wanna know. ‘Cos it’s just - it’s not what I imagined. I’ve seen all the headlines and photos and stuff, so…”

“Ah.” Klavier smiled ruefully. “From the early Gavinners days, I take it? Back when I had Daryan around to be my bad influence? Nein, that’s not exactly my style anymore. I already feel too old for that kind of scheisse. Now, I do these things out of obligation, you know? Work parties, family events...nothing too wild. Not when I’ve been involved in too many scandals. Better to lay low than to put myself out there again, ja?”

“I...I see.” Apollo went quiet for a moment, ruminating. He couldn’t help but notice Klavier had neatly avoided the word “friend”; he was starting to wonder how many he actually had. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had ever mentioned anyone outside of people that Apollo himself already knew.

“You’re staring again, Forehead.” Klavier leaned closer, resting his chin in his hands, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “There’s no one nearly as pretty as me in Khura’in, I take it? Don’t worry, I’d be surprised if there was.” Apollo said nothing, instead lifting a hand from his own mug of honey lemon tea to flip him off. Klavier merely laughed in response, delighted.

_____

After that, the gap between video calls went down from a few weeks to a few days. Neither of them knew why, but somehow, they’d come to a silent agreement that they were going to talk once or twice a week about nothing in particular. However, Apollo still hadn’t quite figured out why Klavier had called him the first time. Initially, he suspected it had something to do with Kristoph, given that the Gavins were finally starting to pack up his things. Maybe Klavier had visited him recently, or maybe he’d reminisced a little too long about their shared childhood, whatever that looked like. But when Apollo had asked, Klavier had simply shrugged it off.

“It’s no secret that even thinking about thinking about Kristoph puts me in a foul mood,” Klavier had replied. “But I haven’t seen him lately, nein. I’m done, I’m - I just want to move on with my life, without his shadow lurking in the darkness.”

Not all their conversations were so heavy, though; once they’d finally caught up on everything they’d missed out on over the last several months, their topics turned mundane, even silly. Apollo never expected to spend one of his precious free Saturday mornings arguing with Klavier, of all people, about breakfast, of all things, but here he was.

“Yes, I’ve had instant ramen for breakfast, what of it?!” Apollo had exclaimed defensively. “Add an egg, some bacon bits...what’s your problem?”

“My problem is your sodium intake,” Klavier had protested. “Bitte, tell me you eat actual fruits and vegetables from time to time. Tell me you have some semblance of a balanced diet and your stomach hasn’t just turned into a toxic wasteland.”

Apollo wasn’t sure why he was talking to Klavier so often, so suddenly, in all honesty. Part of him supposed it was because Klavier just happened to be there - after all, he seemed freer to talk than Phoenix, Trucy, or Athena, and he wasn’t bad company when he wasn’t not-so-stealthily insulting Apollo in court. But another part of him, the part he desperately wanted to ignore, felt oddly comforted by Klavier’s probably-fake accent and his too-wide smile. Klavier’s presence in his small, chilly Khura’inese bedroom almost made him feel like he was back home.

“Have you seen the others lately?” Apollo asked one evening, bundled up in the thickest blanket he could find. There was a draft coming in from somewhere that he had yet to take care of, and neither Datz nor Ahlbi were too interested in checking it out, either. “Or...I dunno. Watched any of Trucy’s shows?”

“I’ve only seen them around at crime scenes and the courthouse,” Klavier replied. Apollo couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a peek over Klavier’s shoulders at his surroundings in curiosity. For once, Klavier was sitting on his bed instead of at his desk or in what was presumably his home office. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have a huge, ostentatious-looking bedroom that was probably bigger than Apollo’s office. “Things have been...busy at the Gavin estate. I don't have much time to socialize with colleagues.”

“Busy?” Apollo echoed, sitting up. “More cleaning, you mean?”

“My parents aren’t retired, but sometimes, they act like they are,” Klavier said wryly. “They want to remodel so many rooms - the kitchen, the conservatory, my old playroom...so I’ve been going home quite a bit these days, helping them with the little things. It was nostalgic, seeing all the toys I used to play with. Feels like a lifetime ago, achtung.”

“What was your thing?” Apollo asked. “Beanie Babies? Barbie Dreamhouses? Legos? Wait, let me guess - you had one of those Fisher-Price piano playmats, didn’t you? Don’t even lie to me.”

“I would never own something so tacky,” Klavier protested; he almost seemed offended. “Nein, Mama was all about wooden toys - blocks, cars, dollhouses, kitchen sets - it’s very aesthetically pleasing. With the occasional soft toy, ja, but we never had plastic.”

“Interesting,” Apollo said, humming. “Same here, no plastic for us. Only, uh - not for the same reasons. More out of...necessity.”

“Oh.” Klavier’s expression softened. “Ja, I suppose in your...situation, you wouldn’t be able to get new things easily.” He then smirked. “Now I’m trying to imagine you and Herr Sahdmadhi as children. I can’t picture either of you with dolls or teddy bears.”

“Try actual frogs and actual bunnies,” Apollo said, sinking down further into his chair. “We were outdoorsy kids, believe it or not. Scraped knees and sunburns and all. But now, uh, good luck dragging me away from air conditioning and indoor plumbing. You couldn’t pay me to abandon my weighted blanket.”

“Picky, picky,” Klavier teased, grinning. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m too comfortable with being comfortable to like change. Though...I suppose that’s not really up to us, is it? Changing?”

“How philosophical of you,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that deep, Gavin, I’m just saying I’m not interested in sleeping outdoors again anytime soon. One instance of me waking up with ants in places that you definitely don’t want ants was enough.” He then chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And honestly, who does like change? It’s like when I get a new client, right, and every time, something changes on me. Evidence, circumstances, logic...hell, it’s your fault sometimes!”

“When did this become about me?” Klavier chuckled, still smiling.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back. “It’s like you have this...this uncanny ability to turn any normal conversation into an opportunity for you to wax poetic, just so you can sound cool. If you ask me, it’s more dorky than anything else.”

Klavier’s mouth dropped open. “...Apollo Justice, are you calling me a dork?”

“Maybe I am, Klavier Gavin. What are we, Prosecutor von Karma?” Apollo snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, but between you and her, I think I know which one of you is actually German.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very German,” Klavier protested, wagging an accusing finger at his screen. “Both of my parents grew up in Germany; they only came to the States so they could get their master’s. They had me learn German by watching Janoschs Traumstunde and Die Sendung mit der Maus, and Mama taught me how to make spätzle and schupfnudeln and reibekuchen - ah, and my favorite dessert? Bienenstich.”

Apollo held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you. I just think your accent’s a little...questionable. You sound like someone who got too overconfident in their dedication to Duolingo.”

“Ach,” Klavier said, laughing. “Anyway, do you mean it? Am I really...dorky?”

“Wow, you’re even more hung up on that than I thought,” Apollo teased, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing as well. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Image is a big deal to you, after all. Yes, Gavin, you’re a huge dork. How can you not be when you say shit like - like ‘tell me you share my angst, Herr Forehead’ - ”

“And you think my accent is terrible,” Klavier mused, sighing. “So sue me, I like to embellish. I like a little romance in my language - it makes life more interesting, you know? Though I suppose you wouldn’t understand, being the kind of person that you are. You wouldn’t know romance if it asked you to dinner.”

“Ugh, that reminds me.” An involuntary shudder went through Apollo’s entire body. “I had a client ask me out a few weeks ago. Like, seconds after I got him acquitted. As if that was all he was thinking about while the judge declared him not guilty.”

Klavier went still. “...really? What happened? What did you say?”

“I said no, obviously!” Apollo exclaimed, loud enough that he briefly wondered if he’d accidentally woken up his neighbors. “He wasn’t a murderer, but he was still a shitty person. Besides, shitty or not, it’s kind of an unspoken thing to not date clients and co-workers, isn’t it?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier said, waving a hand aimlessly. “I’m just...surprised.”

“That someone was interested in me? Thanks, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes.

“That someone thought it was a good idea,” Klavier corrected, mouth twisting into a slight frown. “You’re perfect...ly acceptable, Forehead. As a, ah, person to go on a date with, I mean.” He cleared his throat; it seemed to get stuck quite often these days. “Anyway - surely, he didn’t think you would agree!”

“I dunno what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all in the first place,” Apollo sighed, shivering once more. “At least Ema got a good laugh out of it.”

Klavier straightened up, his expression quickly returning to normal. “How is she, by the way? I can only imagine that Khura’in is completely covered in luminol by now.”

“She’s adjusted pretty well, though she’s used to living overseas,” Apollo shrugged. “Her Khura’inese needs some work, though. Er, not that mine’s much better, I’ve been gone for too long. It’s coming back to me...slowly. Very slowly.”

“Sometimes I forget that you speak another language, too,” Klavier remarked. “Considering your grasp of English…”

“My English is fine, thanks,” Apollo huffed; it seemed like he couldn’t go one conversation without wanting to stick his tongue out at Klavier like they were unruly children on a school playground. Or, alternatively, flipping him off like they were fighting over the last parking spot. “Just ‘cos I don’t get all fancy with it - ”

“Here we go again,” Klavier sighed, dropping his chin into his hands. “And you say I make everything about me, hm?”

“Two-way street, Gavin. Two-way street,” Apollo said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Besides, that’s...it’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? Poking at each other until someone gets legitimately pissed? Usually me, but still.”

“I didn’t know we had a ‘thing’,” Klavier said, cocking his head in curiosity. “Tell me more about this ‘thing’ of ours, bitte.”

“See? There you go again!” Now Apollo’s neighbors were definitely awake; he didn’t have to look out the window to know that their lights were coming back on. “You can’t go two seconds without being...smarmy about something. It’s like a bad habit of yours, and I know a thing or two about bad habits.”

“What’s yours?”

Apollo blinked. Klavier had asked so suddenly, so immediately, that he’d barely heard what he’d said. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your bad habit,” Klavier elaborated. “I know you were talking about spotting other people’s tells, but I’m more curious about yours. You’d think that, since I get on your nerves so easily, I’d be able to see it myself, but…” He shrugged, still smiling. It was one of those indiscernible expressions of his that frustrated Apollo so much, the kind of bland, indifferent smile that seemed to mean anything and nothing at the same time. The kind of smile Klavier had in court as he reviewed the facts of the case, or when he ran into Apollo at a crime scene, or even when he talked about not talking about his brother.

“I...I, uh, never really thought about it.” Apollo hummed, thinking it over. “Messing with my hair, I guess? I’ve definitely, literally pulled my hair out before whenever I’m, like. Nervous. Stressed. Worried. Or, y’know, all of the above. I even had a crooked hairline in high school ‘cos I used to do it all the time.”

Klavier lifted his head from his hands, looking at Apollo in awe. He was quiet for so long that Apollo almost asked him if his internet connection had cut out, only to watch Klavier fuss with his bangs, then push them back completely, exposing his hairline, near-identical to what Apollo’s used to look like. It was only then that Apollo realized he’d never seen Klavier with his hair completely up. Of course, he’d seen Klavier do ponytails, braids, even space buns if he was feeling particularly stylish, but his bangs were always swept over his left eye. Now, he could see why.

“...oh.” Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. “I...I see. Is that, uh, recent?”

Klavier nodded shortly, then briefly turned away to grab a hair tie from his bedside table. He held the hair tie between his teeth while he gathered up his hair and twisted it into a neat knot; Apollo tried not to stare at the fullness of Klavier’s bottom lip, sticking out in a perfect pout, as he did. “Can I tell you a secret, Herr Forehead?”

“Oh - er - okay, abrupt change of topic there,” Apollo muttered, more to himself than to Klavier. “I guess so. What’s up?”

“I...haven’t decided how I feel yet about my parents remodeling our family estate.” Klavier’s tone was casual, but Apollo knew by now that it meant nothing. “I know why they’re doing it, I just don’t know why they’re doing it now. Nothing has changed, you know? They’re still working, I’m still working...Kristoph is still in prison.”

“Well, I don’t...know your parents or anything,” Apollo said carefully. “But i-it could be, like, a healing process thing. Starting fresh and all that, you know? But maybe it’s really not that deep. Maybe they literally just felt like, hey, now’s the right time to renovate. You could ask ‘em.”

“Ah - nein, I couldn’t inconvenience them like that,” Klavier said, chuckling awkwardly. He was already starting to mess with his hair once more. “If I expressed anything other than my complete support, they would stop immediately. And they’ve already sacrificed so much for me, I would never...I can’t…”

“Gavin,” Apollo said softly.

“It’s just a few rooms.” Klavier inhaled sharply. “What does it matter? It’s not like I live there. If Mama wants to turn our playroom into a crafting room, it...it makes sense.”

Their conversation, understandably, didn’t last too long after that. Apollo crawled into bed, still wrapped up in his blankets, with over a dozen trains of thought trekking through his mind, more of them about Klavier than he wanted to admit. He’d never thought of Klavier as an inherently private person - at times, he seemed almost too open to speaking his mind - but now, he could see that in some ways, he had been completely wrong.

_____

Unlike before, a few weeks passed before they had another video call. Klavier was wearing a muscle tank this time, his hair scraped back into a messy bun, his bangs perfectly placed. Apollo found himself more than a little distracted by the broadness of Klavier’s shoulders, by the length of Klavier’s neck. “Entschuldigung for last time,” Klavier said smoothly, by way of greeting. “Let’s not have me treat our conversations like my therapy sessions, ja?”

“It’s fine, Gavin,” Apollo reassured him. “One comment about how you’re feeling is no big deal. If you wanna talk, then...talk. Honestly, I’m a huge law nerd, and I could talk about Khura’inese legal practices all day, but, uh, I could definitely use a conversation or two that’s about something completely different.”

Klavier nodded, seemingly thinking it over. “...I like your hair.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “...and I like your shirt. What, are we on a shitty speed date? C’mon, you can do better than that!”

“Ach, you didn’t let me finish,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “I just meant...I like your hair like this. It looks...soft. Less severe. Something that would be nice to touch, you know?”

“I...oh.” A pleasant tingle went up Apollo’s spine. Klavier’s voice was low, warm, especially through his headphones. He brushed his hair back behind his ears, ducking his head slightly so Klavier wouldn’t notice the heat rising in his cheeks. “Trucy introduced me to some new hair products a while back. Said it was stuff she uses to make her hair look extra shiny under the stage lights. Er, n-not that that’s why I’m using it, just...it’s nice to treat myself every now and then.”

Klavier suddenly perked up. “Speaking of treating yourself, that reminds me - you know the best way to help you with all that stress and tension you’re dealing with? A gut massage. Surely, there are some facilities like that in Khura’in, ja?”

Apollo fixed Klavier with a withering look. “...Gavin, we just had a revolution here, like, six months ago. Getting a massage and a facial is hardly anyone’s priority right now, believe me. It’s not like the legal system is off in its own little world, y’know? The economy, the sociopolitical order…everyone considers themselves lucky that they can go about their day-to-day lives, but luxury goods and services? Not here, not yet.”

“Shame, though I can’t fault Khura’in for having its priorities in order,” Klavier said, frowning slightly. “Well, if I ever get bored enough and feel like hopping on a plane, maybe I’ll come visit and give you a massage myself.”

“I’m not paying for your ticket,” Apollo retorted, his cheeks reddening once more. “And are you even qualified?”

“I always massage Papa’s shoulders whenever I go to my parents’ house,” Klavier mused thoughtfully. “He gets sore from all the gardening he does. You should see our estate garden; it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

Apollo’s nose twitched. “I’m, uh, I’m sure it does. Hey, so - tell me about your parents. You’ve mentioned them a bunch of times, but I don’t actually know that much about them.”

“High school sweethearts,” Klavier said with an almost dreamy smile on his face. “The old-school kind, slipping love letters into each other’s bags between classes and all that. Now, they’re both college professors at the same school. They both act like practical, no-nonsense people, but the truth is, they're both romantisch at heart.”

“And then passed that on to you,” Apollo nodded. “Makes sense. They sound adorable, actually.”

“I never had a high school sweetheart of my own,” Klavier sighed wistfully. “I can’t imagine how...all-consuming that must feel. To be so young, to be so sure that this one person, the only person you’ve ever loved, will be the only person you’ll ever love.”

“I guess that’s where we differ,” Apollo said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, surprised at himself. He wasn’t sure where his comment had come from, why he’d blurted it out loud without a second thought. “I, uh, I had...something like that. Someone like that.”

“...oh.” Klavier furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What happened?”

Apollo ducked his head, unable to look Klavier in the eye. “...you know what happened to him.”

Klavier’s eyes widened in realization. “Ach - Apollo, I’m so - ”

“Don’t, I - don’t,” Apollo insisted, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s not, uh. It’s not something I really wanna talk about.”

Klavier seemed unable to speak for a moment, his eyes shining with pity. Apollo hated it, hated how genuinely sorry Klavier looked, as if he had anything to do with it at all. Klavier opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “...I’ve written songs about my parents, actually. Not that you’ll find them on any Gavinners’ albums, just little love ballads that I played at their anniversary parties and vow renewal. They were big hits with my extended family - the one I wrote when I was ten years old is an absolute classic.”

“I’m sure it was,” Apollo chuckled, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “How about now, you write anything recently?”

��Barely a tune since the Gavinners disbanded,” Klavier admitted. “I haven’t felt all that inspired lately. Maybe someday it’ll come back to me, but right now...nothing. Nichts.”

“Good luck, I guess,” Apollo offered. “By the way, what’s with the tank top? Is it that hot over there already?”

“I’ve always been hot, Forehead, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Klavier said, grinning victoriously at the almost too obvious bait.

Apollo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I will hang up on you someday, Gavin, don’t think I won’t.”

_____

The gap between video calls quickly dwindled down from a few days to no days at all. Text messages were constant, to the point where Apollo had to sheepishly ask Nahyuta how to upgrade his phone plan. Even phone calls started to increase in frequency; Apollo was starting to think he heard Klavier’s voice more often than he heard Ema’s, and they often spent entire days in each other’s presence.

“How do you feel about peaches?” Apollo asked, his phone carefully sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he deftly navigated his way through the farmer’s market, nearly tripping over a stray dog as he did so.

“Great emoji,” Klavier replied semi-seriously, though Apollo could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Although...Forehead, if this is your subtle way of asking me for my opinion on Call Me By Your Name, I’ll have you know I never learned how to play Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo fratello dilettissimo. Now, Zion Hört Die Wächter Singen, on the other hand - ”

“Need I remind you, I only speak English, Khura’inese, and college-level Spanish?” Apollo interrupted, shaking his head. “Anyway, peaches are basically a delicacy here. Sucks for me, since I’m allergic to stone fruit.”

“Same, I can only eat them cooked. I love a good cherry pie,” Klavier hummed. “Did you remember to get kale this time?”

“Yeah, I got a huge bundle of it right here,” Apollo said, jostling his wicker basket loudly enough so Klavier could hear. A few market patrons turned to look at him strangely. “Thanks again for the tip, by the way. I’m still getting used to cooking stuff that’s not instant or frozen, so roasting vegetables is a total game-changer.”

“Glad to hear you’re eating actual fruits and vegetables now,” Klavier replied, chuckling. “So, I had a case go kaput today. Thought you might want to hear about it.”

“Obviously!” Apollo said, lighting up. “What did you do?”

“Achtung, why do you think it was my fault?” Klavier protested, his laughter warm in Apollo’s ear.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back, laughing as well. “Seriously, what happened? Can’t be as bad as...literally anything that’s happened to me.”

“Nein, not quite,” Klavier agreed. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t up against Athena or Herr Wright. Some rookie, I think; I was going to go easy on them. That is, until the defendant, apparently overcome with guilt, decided to bring their own decisive evidence to prove that they did, in fact, kill the victim.”

“No!” Apollo exclaimed. More market patrons turned in his direction, glaringly so. He shot them apologetic grimaces, then ducked behind a watermelon display. “Really? Like, are we talking fingerprints, photographs…”

“Everything, Forehead, everything. I couldn’t have convicted them better myself,” Klavier remarked. “Obviously, I take no joy in celebrating crime, especially murder, but ach, I consider that one of the highlights of my career. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if you were there. I can picture your dumbfounded expression now.”

“You’re terrible,” Apollo informed him, with no real bite behind his words. “But...not gonna lie, that’s kind of incredible. I feel bad for the defense, though. I’ve been screwed over by clients before, but usually not that badly.” He then heard a sharp wuff somewhere by his feet; he glanced down to see the dog he’d nearly tripped over before was now sitting on top of his toes, looking up at him with literal puppy-dog eyes. “...uh, hello. Did you need something?”

“What’s that?” Klavier asked.

“Oh - sorry, not you, Gavin. A stray dog just came over to say hi, I guess.” Apollo crouched down, taking care not to tip his basket. “Hey, buddy. I’m not the one to beg for food, if that’s what you’re looking for. All I can offer is, like, a belly rub.”

“Wait, switch to video, I want to see this,” Klavier pleaded, laughing again. Sighing, Apollo turned on his camera, then aimed his phone at the dog, who was now rolling over onto its back, its tail thumping enthusiastically against the cobblestone. “Ah, what an adorable hündchen! Go on, Forehead, don’t make him wait.” Sighing yet again - at Klavier, naturally, not the dog; he could never begrudge the dog - Apollo carefully set his basket down, then began rubbing the dog’s belly, smiling at the adorably goofy look the dog gave him in return, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his eyes closing in utter bliss. “Hold still for a moment, bitte? I want to make this my contact photo for you.”

“Gavin, I swear - ”

“Uh, Apollo? What are you doing?”

Apollo startled at the sound of a new voice; his eyes widened when he looked up and realized who it belonged to. “Ema! He-e-ey, wh-what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ema replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you petting a dog while video-calling Gavin at the farmer’s market?”

“...because I can?” Apollo offered meekly, straightening up. He quickly hung up on Klavier before Ema could attempt to talk to him, silently noting the need to send him an apology text later. “Hey, um - th-there’s a discount on tangyuan today, you wanna go all out and split the cost with me?”

Ema continued to eye him suspiciously. “Sure. But please don’t insult my intelligence - you can’t just distract me with snacks, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Apollo sighed, giving the dog one last pat on the head before leading Ema across the market, towards the aforementioned snack stall. “We just...we talk sometimes. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, if you guys just do video calls every now and then,” Ema said. “But here you are, shopping for produce and chatting with Gavin at the same time. It’s...a little domestic, don’t you think?”

“D...domestic?” Apollo echoed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I just didn’t think you and Gavin had that kind of relationship, that’s all,” Ema continued, shrugging as she popped a grape from her own basket into her mouth. “Listen, I couldn’t care less about that guy. But you’re my friend, so...I have to ask. Is something, y’know...going on there?”

“Wh - no, no, no, o-of course not!” Apollo ducked behind Ema the second he felt the glares of the market patrons turn to face him, again. He was starting to think he wasn’t going to be welcome back for a couple of weeks, at least. “I - he - we’re friends! It’s kinda new, b-but we’re friends. Just friends. He’s, like...pretty decent when he’s not being obnoxious in court. Or at a crime scene...or just in general.”

Ema snorted, reaching over to steal a strawberry from Apollo’s basket next. “I think it’s time you hop off that bicycle of yours, Apollo, because you’re obviously backpedaling.”

“Tortured metaphor, but okay,” Apollo muttered, glowering at her.

“How’d you guys end up talking in the first place, anyway?” Ema asked, chewing noisily. “I can’t imagine you were the one to initiate it.”

“It...I’m not sure, actually,” Apollo admitted, slapping her hand away before she could steal his entire carton of freshly-picked strawberries. They were probably more expensive than all the vegetables he’d purchased, combined. “Gavin called me a while back, seemed embarrassed about it, and then hung up. I asked him later what was going on, we started doing video calls and stuff, and then it turned into a thing, but…I never figured out why he called the first time. And I don’t think there’s any point in asking.”

“Fair enough, though I gotta admit, I’m still curious. For scientific purposes, of course,” Ema added, humming to herself. “Maybe he...no, there’s no way.”

“You know something I don’t?” Apollo asked, nudging her. “What happened to ‘I couldn’t care less’?”

“Believe me, I really couldn’t,” Ema retorted, elbowing him back. “Surprises me that you have enough to talk about, though. I mean, it’s Gavin.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested; suddenly, he felt weirdly defensive of Klavier. Again, it wasn’t a feeling he was too familiar with. “We have more in common than you think. It’s not all just - just guitar riffs and hair tosses with him.”

“If you say so,” Ema sighed, clearly uninterested in pursuing the topic any further. “C’mon, let’s pick our flavors already. And if you short me on black sesame, I will be taking those strawberries of yours.”

Later that evening, Apollo was cocooned in his usual plethora of blankets, poring over the evidence for three separate cases - honestly, the autopsy reports were starting to blur together, which explained why, for a moment, he thought one of the victims had somehow ended up with a bullet hole in their stomach from being stabbed with a blunt object - when his phone went off. He immediately perked up when he read the call display. “Gavin, hey. Sorry again about earlier, you know how Ema is.”

“Keine Sorge, you already apologized,” Klavier replied. “That’s not why I was calling, in any case.”

Apollo frowned slightly, putting Klavier on speakerphone and nestling his phone among his files. “Oh? I, uh, I thought you were just calling to chat.”

“Ja, we can talk about whatever we feel like after, it’s just - I had a question for you.” The deep breath Klavier took before speaking again made Apollo nervous. “Are you homesick?”

“...huh?” Apollo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Well, I mean. Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Khura’in was my home once, so it’s not like I’m in a completely new place, but it’s...yeah, I miss being back home, traffic jams and heatwaves and all. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Klavier said innocently, in that sort of tone of voice that made Apollo want to reach through the phone and strangle him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“There’s either no reason, or a reason that I’ll learn soon enough. Pick one, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. All he got in response was warm, throaty laughter that sent pleasant tingles down his spine. “Fine, don’t tell me. So, what’re you up to?”

“Just got back from my morning run.” There was a rustling of sound on Klavier’s end that suggested he was still walking around somewhere, presumably inside his apartment. Apollo could only imagine how sweaty he still was, how his skin glistened in the mid-morning sun - and now, he realized belatedly, he wasn’t sure if it was something he should be thinking about at all. “You know, after all this time - I still hate it. Running, I mean.”

“Then why do you do it?” Apollo said, trying not to laugh. “Though to be fair, I feel the same way. Athena used to make me run laps around the agency’s neighborhood sometimes ‘cos I need to ‘improve my cardiovascular health’ or whatever. Never got any good at it.”

“I do it because it’s good for me, but achtung, I wish I actually liked it,” Klavier sighed. “The fresh air, the endorphins, it’s all gut and well, but you know what I can’t stand? Sweat-soaked hair. Sore ankles and stiff knees. Don’t get me started on the sunburns, ach.”

“Okay, old man,” Apollo chuckled. “You sound like a guy twice your age, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who once said they were starting to prefer blander foods over spicy foods - calling me an old man, mein Gott, the disrespect - ”

A few hours later, Apollo was fully curled up beneath his duvet, head resting on his pillow, eyes closed, with his phone tucked under his ear. Neither of them had spoken in a little while, though Apollo could hear Klavier humming under his breath while he worked on clearing out his email inbox. “...you really should take a day off, Gavin.”

“You first,” Klavier said without missing a beat. “Don’t trick yourself into thinking you have to take every case in the country, ja?”

“Same to you,” Apollo mumbled; he was starting to drift in and out of consciousness. “You’re working, like...stupidly long hours. It’s not like you’re the only prosecutor in the district.”

There was a long pause. “Mama said that to me the other day. She told me I should live a little.”

“And she’s right,” Apollo yawned. “Anyway, I’m not gonna get into this again. And it’s not like you have to do anything major, just...take a day off. Go get a massage or whatever. Hang out with friends, go on a date, I dunno.”

“Go on a date, right,” Klavier drawled sarcastically. “Easier said than done, ja?”

“What, is it the fame thing?” Apollo asked, eyes snapping open in curiosity.

“It’s the, ah. ‘Trusting people’ thing.” Klavier let out a quiet laugh. “After convicting mein Bruder, after convicting someone I thought was my best friend...who’s to say any future romantic partner of mine wouldn’t end up facing that same fate?”

“...oh.” Apollo’s face softened; part of him wanted to see Klavier’s expression, while another part of him had the feeling it was better this way, to only hear the slight rasp, the slight crack in Klavier’s voice as he spoke. He could only imagine the noticeable twitch in Klavier’s eyes, the forced smile on his lips, that he’d seen a surprising amount of times over the past few months. “I see. I-I get it. Not like I’m any good at trusting people, either.”

Klavier went quiet again. “Apollo?”

“I...oh. Yeah?” He couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had called him by his actual name.

“Be honest with me, ja?” Klavier murmured. “When we talk every day, when we text and chat and send each other silly things...is it something you actually like doing, or...or are you just bored?”

Apollo snorted. “Oh please, you know my schedule. I couldn’t be bored if I tried.” He nestled deeper into his pillow, yawning. “Nah, you’re...we’re friends. Talking to you is like...part of my routine now.”

“You mean it?” Klavier asked. He sounded so uncertain that it made Apollo’s heart ache.

“I don’t send stupid memes to just anybody, you know,” Apollo teased. “And look, I’m not pretending like this isn’t weird. If you asked me a year ago if I could see myself talking to you on a daily basis, I would’ve said, y’know, ‘never in a million years’. But things are different now, so...yeah. You’re not so bad, Gavin.”

“Ah, danke. What high praise, coming from you,” Klavier drawled, laughing. “But really, I’m glad to hear it. I...wasn’t sure if I was bothering you. When I called that first time, I suppose I had my answer. Then after that, I never really knew for sure.”

“Now you do,” Apollo affirmed, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

“Now I do,” Klavier echoed, satisfied. “So, how about you, Forehead? Any clients ask you out again recently?”

“No, thank god,” Apollo said, shuddering. “Besides, I’m, uh. I’m not exactly looking to date right now, either. I’m...I’m pretty good with how things are going at the moment. Maybe after I get back. Thinking about thinking about dating, I mean.”

“Smart.” Klavier’s voice was so clear, so warm, that it almost sounded as if he were in Apollo’s bedroom, too. Apollo briefly wondered what it would be like to have Klavier visit, to wander the farmer’s market with him, to take evening walks along the river and watch the fireflies together, to go through an endless number of cases with him by his side. He had to admit, it didn’t sound half-bad. Better than half-bad, really, not that he was going to say so out loud. “Long-distance is never easy. The time zones, the uncertainty, the inability to truly be together...I can only imagine.”

“Right,” Apollo hummed, his eyes drifting closed once more. “I can only imagine.” When he woke up the next morning, he found a text message waiting for him - a screenshot of Klavier’s home screen; its background was a photo of Apollo and the friendly dog. sehr süß, Klavier had texted, and the hündchen isn’t so bad, either. It was too early, in Apollo’s opinion, for his heart to be racing this quickly.

_____

Almost four months to the day since they started talking, Apollo arrived at the post office with a delivery slip in hand, visibly confused by its earlier presence on his front door. “Was this really meant for me?” he managed to ask in his steadily improving Khura’inese. “I never ordered anything from the United States. Just paying customs would make me broke!”

“It really is for you, Mr. Justice,” the receptionist replied. Apollo watched, stunned, as she dragged a crate-sized package out from behind her desk. “You must have people who really love you back home, sir.”

“I...w-wow.” Apollo didn’t know what to say. “Er, do you have someone who can help me bring this back to my office?”

Twenty minutes later, Apollo was sitting on the floor of Justice Law Offices, embarrassingly sweaty and sore from how much effort it had taken him and one of the post office employees to haul his delivery here. Groaning, he reached for his pocket knife, then carefully sliced through the tape, unwrapping the enormous package layer by layer. When he finally reached its actual contents, he sat back on his haunches, stunned by the sheer amount of items inside.

The package consisted of two sturdy boxes; one was labeled with Ema’s name, so Apollo took it out and set it aside. He then opened the one that bore his name, only to find it was packed surprisingly tight. Boxes and boxes of his favorite snacks that were too expensive to import to Khura’in, well-loved copies of his favorite manga that had clearly been taken from his apartment back home, thick stacks of the most obnoxious California-themed postcards known to humankind with handwritten notes on their backs - before Apollo knew it, his eyes started to well up with emotion. Finally, at the bottom of the box, cushioning the other items nicely, were a few of his sweaters and hoodies, some of which still had a few stray Mikeko hairs on it.

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, wiping his eyes hastily despite being completely alone. Then, he frowned. “Wait, what is…” He pulled out the only item of clothing he didn’t recognize, an unusually large hoodie in a familiar shade of purple with an embroidered rose on its breast pocket. Stuck to its left sleeve cuff was a sticky note; Apollo peeled it off and began to read what was on it.

herr forehead,

wear this the next time you go out, just in case you run into that hündchen again. It smells just a little bit like my parents’ dog - and like me, if you’re into that sort of thing.

alles liebe, klavier

Later that day - well into the evening, really - Apollo was eating dinner at his desk, rummaging through a hefty stack of police reports, when his laptop pinged, reminding him he had a scheduled video call that was about to start. Grinning, Apollo turned on his webcam, his heart pounding in anticipation. “Hey, Gavin. So, what do you think?”

“What do I think about - oh.” Klavier’s mouth fell open. “You’re...I didn’t think you were actually going to wear it.”

“Is, uh...is that a bad thing?” Apollo asked, suddenly nervous.

“Nein, nein, not at all! You look...achtung, you look good,” Klavier said hoarsely, swallowing. He then cleared his throat; his cheeks were flushed pink, much to Apollo’s delight. “Bitte, stand up for me? I want to see how long it is on you; it’s amazing you haven’t completely disappeared inside of it.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately, getting out of his chair and taking a few steps back so Klavier could see. He smoothed out the front of the hoodie, realizing belatedly that its hem only just grazed the tops of his bare thighs. “Er, don’t mind my legs. I-I’m wearing shorts underneath, I swear!”

“I don’t mind at all,” Klavier replied, cocking his head. His eyes were darkening, shining with something that Apollo couldn’t quite identify. “Have you worn it outside yet?”

“Nah, not yet. I was actually planning on wearing it to bed since it’s kinda cold, and this thing’s the biggest thing I have,” Apollo admitted, sitting back down. At Klavier’s exaggerated eyebrow raise, he groaned. “Shut up. Don’t make it weird.”

“I said nothing,” Klavier teased, dropping his chin into his hands. “So, did you like our care package? Trucy reached out to me on the same day you ran into that hündchen and asked if I had anything to contribute. I also sent Ema some old Gavinners’ merchandise, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I heard about it from her, alright,” Apollo chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Amazing how you manage to continue torturing her from several continents away. Maybe that’s your real talent.”

“To be fair, I was also the one who got her the beaker shot glasses and the glow-in-the-dark periodic table blanket,” Klavier pointed out, laughing as well. “I think all would be forgiven if she knew that was me.”

“So she gets new stuff and I get hand-me-downs, huh? I see how it is,” Apollo said, tucking his knees into his chest and yawning. “Seriously, though, thanks. This thing smells like that cologne of yours I don’t like.”

“And the backhanded compliments continue,” Klavier said, amused. “I hope you feel a little less homesick, at least.”

“Oh, I’m more homesick than ever,” Apollo snorted. “But I appreciate the care package, really! Having all this stuff here is amazing. It’s just...well. Stuff isn’t, uh...it’s not exactly a substitute for people, y’know?”

Klavier nodded thoughtfully, his smile sympathetic. Apollo took a moment to look at Klavier, to really look at him, and see how he was doing. He looked good; his skin had a glow to it, and his eyes and hair seemed to shine a little brighter than they had the very first time they’d talked. Klavier was bare-faced more often than not - aside from his tattooed eyebrows and eyelash extensions - though he seemed to be experimenting with his hair here and there, occasionally sporting different styles of ponytails, braids, and updos. It almost made Apollo forget how sullen he’d looked four months ago.

“Is that why you’re staring again?” Klavier asked, smirking. “Are you finally ready to admit you miss me, Forehead? That you miss my charming personality and my devastatingly good looks?”

“So what if I do?” Apollo huffed. He then frowned at Klavier’s wide eyes. “...what?”

“Nichts, it’s just - you do realize you just said you actually miss me, ja?” Klavier said disbelievingly. “Do you really mean it, or...or are you just saying that?”

“I-I...well.” Apollo shot him a small smile. “Yeah, Gavin, I miss you. Thought that was, uh. Kinda obvious by now.”

Klavier grinned victoriously; he looked seconds away from pumping his fist into the air. “Achtung, I knew it!”

“And the dorkiness continues,” Apollo said mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I mean it, how did you convince an entire generation of teenagers that you were cool? You go around saying crap like ‘let’s rock with these documents’ and ‘you have to get on up in order to get on down to prosecuting’ - are you an internationally-renowned rockstar, or an awkward dad trying to connect with his teenager through the power of classic rock? What’s next, Gavin, you gonna go buy a lawnmower and some cargo shorts? Fire up the grill and wear a kitschy apron?”

“Mein Gott, you’re vicious sometimes,” Klavier sighed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ich vermisse dich auch, by the way. I think I've been...a little more obvious than you.”

“Maybe,” Apollo hummed. “But hey, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel appreciated for once.”

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?” Klavier asked.

“I’m, er...I’m not sure,” Apollo said hesitantly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t think I was gonna be sticking around for this long to begin with, and now it’s...it’s gonna be the rest of the year, at least. Maybe even another year on top of that.”

“You...you think so?” Klavier’s voice was small. Nothing about his expression seemed remotely cheerful now.

“It’s not like I can leave whenever I want to,” Apollo shrugged, sighing. “Khura’in needs more defense attorneys before I could even begin to consider it, and that’s not gonna happen overnight. Not with their deeply ingrained feelings towards ‘em.”

“Wait - you’re not still in danger, are you?” Klavier asked worriedly, his voice suddenly filling with urgency. “No threats, no death sentences - ”

“I-I’m fine, Gavin, don’t worry,” Apollo reassured him. “It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute, back at the beginning, but everything’s fine now. Trust me, if something was going on, you would’ve heard about it earlier.”

“Gut,” Klavier said, satisfied. “After all, if something were to happen to you…” An odd expression flitted across his face, too quickly for Apollo to catch, though he had his suspicions. “Well. Trucy would be devastated, natürlich.”

“Right...just Trucy, huh?” Apollo murmured, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What about...oh, I dunno. Athena would be upset for sure. Can’t forget Mr. Wright, either.”

“Nein, definitely not,” Klavier said, clearing his throat. He paused before speaking again. “Forehead, do you ever wonder what Herr Wright really thinks of you?”

“Sure, all the time,” Apollo admitted. “We didn’t, uh...well, let’s just say we didn’t start off on the best foot, you know that. Why?”

“Because I do, too,” Klavier confessed. “Ach, I want to go the rest of my life not thinking about mein Bruder and all the lives he ruined, all the lives I helped him ruin, but - ”

“Gavin, that’s not what happened and you know it,” Apollo said gently. “And I’m not exactly sure how Mr. Wright feels about you, but I seriously doubt he still has a problem with you. He probably just feels a little, y’know, awkward. You guys went seven years without knowing the whole truth, after all.”

“Ich weiß, ich weiß, it’s just…” Klavier laughed bitterly. “...I’d like to go at least one day without worrying about what someone else thinks of me. Just one.”

Apollo suddenly found himself wishing he could reach through the screen and pull Klavier into his arms; it wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. You already know what I think about you.”

“Do I really?” Klavier teased, though he still looked somewhat worried.

“Yeah, sure,” Apollo replied, smirking. “You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. And, uh...I wouldn't have it any other way. I think.”

Klavier laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “You have a way with words, Forehead, you really do.”

“Thanks,” Apollo drawled, chuckling. “So, today’s case went about as well as expected - meaning it didn’t go well at all…”

_____

Khura’in was beautiful year-round, Apollo mused as he walked alongside the riverbank, but it was especially picturesque in the height of spring, during the month of May. He’d woken up unusually early today, especially given it was one of his very rare days off, not to mention the fact that he’d stayed up late last night, talking to Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix. For whatever reason, he had felt like taking his breakfast - anpan and a warm thermos of green tea - outside, while the sun was still rising. It was a peaceful backdrop for the start of what he hoped would be a peaceful day.

Yawning and stretching, Apollo dropped down to sit in the long grass, the worn-out toes of his boots grazing the water’s edge. He lifted his saddlebag off his shoulders and set it aside, raking his fingers through his hair. It was getting quite long in the back, he noted, but he didn’t care enough to cut it. Before he could take his first bite of his anpan, his phone started to ring. “...Gavin? What’s up, aren’t you going to bed soon?”

“I just wrote a song for the first time in ages, so I’m too alert to sleep at the moment,” Klavier admitted, his voice deeper and raspier than usual, sending shivers up Apollo’s spine. “I’m surprised you’re awake, too. It was only when I started calling you that I realized you were probably still in bed.”

“Felt like catching the sunrise for once.” Apollo turned on his phone camera, then switched it to the rear-facing one so Klavier could see what he was seeing. The entirety of Khura’in, it seemed, was momentarily bathed in a warm, yellow-orange glow. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s wunderschön,” Klavier remarked, awed. “Almost makes me wish I was in Khura’in.”

“I wish you were here, too,” Apollo said quietly. His eyes then widened. “Er, I-I mean - ”

“...Apollo?” Groaning internally, Apollo fumbled with his phone, reluctantly switching to his front-facing camera so he could shoot Klavier a nervous smile. He could see now that Klavier had turned on his camera, too; he appeared to be sitting on his bedroom floor, leaning up against a window, his face illuminated by moonlight. Somehow, his blue eyes were even brighter in the darkness, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows. Apollo’s breath hitched as he was momentarily rendered speechless. “Achtung, you still manage to surprise me after all this time.”

“I-I said nothing!” Apollo said hastily. “You’re - I - i-it’s early, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“If you’re planning on staying for even longer, I really should come and visit, ja?” Klavier continued, his grin equal parts sleepy and teasing. “For one thing, I can finally make good on that massage I promised you, get all that stress and tension out of your body. I could also bring you more of my clothes, since you seem to really like that hoodie of mine.”

“What would you even do here, anyway?” Apollo asked, momentarily looking away so Klavier wouldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “There’s no nightlife, barely any recreational activities...not to mention the wi-fi kinda sucks. Besides, it’s not like you’re allowed to prosecute in Khura’in.”

“Let me be your co-counsel,” Klavier offered. “After all, if Herr Blackquill can help Athena, why can’t I help you?”

“That...would be kinda interesting, actually,” Apollo admitted. “And where would you stay?”

“WIth you, natürlich,” Klavier replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After all, if you want me there, I should be as close as possible. I’d make the perfekt roommate, you know. I can cook for you, clean for you...it’d be domestic, nein? Like I’m your stay-at-home husband or something.”

Apollo shivered again. Despite his distaste for his lyrics, Klavier certainly had a way with words. “You wouldn’t be...I dunno, bored out of your mind? Things are definitely slower here compared to California, you know.”

“The change of pace would be nice,” Klavier said diplomatically. “And I certainly wouldn’t complain about the company.”

“Well, uh, sorry to break up your super-specific fantasy, but I think I’m actually pretty close to getting out of here,” Apollo said, trying not to linger too much on his own mental picture of what Klavier had described. “Another few months, maybe? Six, at most. And since it’s sorta unknown, I wouldn’t recommend booking plane tickets anytime soon.”

“Really?” Klavier perked up. “You’re coming home? Have you told the others?”

“Yeah, I talked to ‘em last night,” Apollo said, setting his phone down by his bag so he could finally take his first bite of anpan. “It’ll be weird once I return, that’s for sure. I’ve been in Khura’in for exactly one year, right down to the day, but...well. It’s definitely grown on me, even with all my...my mixed feelings about it. Though I, um...I guess those mixed feelings are more about a person than a place, and he’s...he’s, well...you know.” He swallowed thickly, reaching for his thermos and taking a generous gulp of his tea.

“Any regrets?” Klavier asked softly.

“About Khura’in, or d’you mean in general?” Apollo asked, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his nervous laugh.

“However you’d like to interpret it,” Klavier said, gesturing aimlessly. “I can be generous sometimes.”

“Yeah, real philanthropist, you are,” Apollo retorted, chuckling. “Well, you know I’ve had days where, like. I feel like I shouldn’t have stayed behind, after all. Like I’m way in over my head, and..like I’m not...not good enough. Like I’m just winging this whole thing, which is scary, ‘cos it’s like the entire country’s future is in my hands, and I can’t just - I can’t improvise. I can’t make it up as I go along, I-I have to know it. Do it, be about it. Make it my whole life, you know?” He stopped to take a breath; the sympathetic crinkle of Klavier’s brow was more welcome this time. “But no, I don’t regret sticking around. I just wish I’d gotten some closure.”

“Closure?” Klavier echoed.

“Yeah, there’s...I’ve got stuff I wish I’d been able to do or, or say before I ended up living here for twelve months,” Apollo confessed. “It’s not like I knew I was moving here when I did, so...it’ll be nice to head back home and settle in and...and get all of that out of the way.” He took a few more bites of his anpan as they ruminated in their shared silence. “How about you? Any regrets about, well, anything?”

“Me?” Then, to Apollo’s surprise - though maybe not to his surprise, given all that had been said and done between the two of them, just the two of them - Klavier let out a bitter laugh. “Always.”

Apollo’s face softened. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly, nein,” Klavier said, visibly shuddering. “Just once, I’d like to not drag our conversation down. Ach, and I used to think you were the buzzkill. Now look at me, ja?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gavin,” Apollo insisted. “I get it, you - you feel things really intensely. I know that now, and, uh. Well, I do it, too. And we hold it all in and we don’t say anything ‘cos there’s bigger things to worry about, a-and then it’s like...like a dam breaks. Like everything just comes rushing at you all at once. There’s no way of stopping it, as much as you want to, and when it’s finally over...you never know how to feel about it. Because it’s not cut and dry, i-it’s not black-and-white, it’s just...it just is. So you move on, ‘cos there’s nothing else you can do about it, and you keep going. And then it starts all over again.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Or, uh, or maybe I’m just describing what a trial feels like.” Apollo glanced back at his phone, only to see Klavier staring at him in wonderment. “...er, too much?”

“Not at all, it’s just...you’re always full of surprises,” Klavier murmured; he almost sounded impressed. “That was incredibly astute, especially for you.”

Apollo wilted. “...thanks. Glad to know you think so highly of my intellect.” Still, Klavier’s warm laughter managed to get him to crack a smile. “So, you said something about writing a new song? How’d that go?”

“I had a burst of inspiration, you might say,” Klavier said, nodding. “Like my muse sat beside me on the piano bench and hummed a melody in my ear.”

“That sounds more creepy than anything else, but okay,” Apollo snorted. “Can I hear it?”

“Nein, not yet,” Klavier replied mysteriously. “When the time is right, ja? Besides, it’s...it’s a bit personal.”

Apollo shifted slightly in his spot. “Personal, huh?”

“It’s about...someone who means a lot to me, and something I’ve been meaning to say to them,” Klavier said carefully. “Because...I’ve been looking for closure, too. And possibly, if I do it right, I might also get a new beginning. Does that make sense?”

“It’s a little cheesy, but, uh, yeah. Makes sense.” Apollo pulled his knees into his chest, resting his chin on top of them with a quiet exhale. “Do I know this someone of yours?”

“Ja, definitely,” Klavier murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re not mine, but...I want them to be.”

“I...I see.” Apollo felt his own pulse pounding in his ears, so loudly that he could barely hear his own voice. “Hey, Gavin, I - I wanted to - there’s something I’ve been wanting to say, and...and I…”

“What is it?” Klavier asked, sitting up, hopeful.

“Well, I...no, n-never mind.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Probably should, um. I should probably save it for when we see each other in person.” Klavier leaned back, disappointed. “Anyway, you, uh, you should probably sleep now if you wanna be awake enough for work. Unless you take the day off like I did.”

“I might actually consider it,” Klavier chuckled. “And we’ll talk tomorrow, ja? Or later today for you, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” Apollo confirmed, nodding.

Something in Klavier’s eyes seemed to shift then, something Apollo couldn’t quite understand. It happened more and more with each passing day, with every conversation, and Apollo wasn’t sure if he was ready to figure out what it meant, if it meant something other than what he hoped it meant. “Du siehst wunderschön aus in diesem licht.”

Apollo blinked. “Sorry?”

“Never mind,” Klavier said, a sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Guten Morgen to you, Herr Forehead.”

“And goodnight to you, Gavin,” Apollo replied, waving briefly before ending the call. He sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing his tea and enjoying the sun’s warmth. Then, he stood, stretching his arms over his head, and smoothed out the creases in his pants and what was now his oversized purple hoodie. “Someday,” he mumbled to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning back in the direction of the bazaar. “Just...not yet.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fifth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the second of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, as I mentioned in the top notes, day seven is a sequel to this one, so look out for it! This is the second-longest fic of all my Klapollo Week fics, and for good reason - I could've easily included an endless number of random conversations and made this fic twice as long if it weren't for the posting deadline. One of my favorite things about writing Klapollo is their back-and-forth, so I love writing fics where they simply just...talk, and hang out. And I know it's definitely a concept that's been done before, but someday, I wanna write my own version of "Klavier visits Apollo in Khura'in and they fall (more) in love". That might end up being my longest Klapollo fic yet 😜

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #not sure if this one or day seven is my favorite #i definitely wanna write an extended version of this in the future

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poptod · 4 years ago

Text

Subterfuge (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re the new medical examiner. Like most medical examiners, you’re a little... different.

Notes: aghhhh im caught in so many lies with my family and friends that im gonna fucking break down but if i tell anyone the truth im gonna get my ass beat on several different levels WC: 1.7k

The latex gloves on your hands did little to stay the cold blood, staining up the skintight material that clung to your sweat. This wasn't the first time you had your hands wrist-deep in organs, but it was the first corpse who had a bullet in his eye, and the first time you were completely alone.

Your years as an assistant were finished, and now you were a full-on doctor––a medical examiner, to be specific. A coroner. The one who deals with the dead. Not a particularly charming profession, but far more interesting, and far more safe than most others.

There was one problem, though––the policemen. You were never a timid person, but some of them just got to you, itched beneath your skin and sped your heart. Why that was hadn't yet been identified, so instead you focused on something you understood; the human body. The stiffness of refrigerated muscle, the stench of uncleaned organs, a mask chafing against your cheeks. The heat of a bright light on your neck.

The man below you was a particularly unfortunate man. Died young, was never quite fully healthy, and had few friends and family. His method of death was what caught the eye of one of the detectives, though it seemed cut-and-dry to you. There were no struggle marks, puncture wounds, bruises, or even scars on his body. Only the bullet hole. He had to have done it himself. Still, it wasn't your job to question the detectives––only to bring them the information you gather.

"How's he lookin'?" Asked a man from behind you, the quiet hinges of the door swinging shut as he entered. You shot up, eyes instantly meeting his.

"Haven't gotten far. About through the small intestine," you said, gesturing to the different jars and plastic boxes categorized with the man's organs. The nearest to you was the lungs. You noted the scrunch in the man's nose with mild amusement.

"Gotten the bullet out yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Already sent it up for ballistics," you said with a curt, polite smile.

He remained silent after that, watching you work from the safe, mostly smell-free area of your desk. With his back leant on the table, he crossed his arms with intent eyes.

"You're the new medical examiner, aren't you?" He asked after a particularly wet squelching sound came from your working fingers.

"Yes sir," you said, nodding. "Started yesterday."

"Oh, this must be new for you then."

"I've done autopsies before, but this is the first time on my own, yes," you admitted with a tinge of embarrassment. It was the truth, that this was new, but he didn't have to mention it.

"Well then, welcome to the team," he chuckled. "My name's Baxter."

"(L/N). Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. I'd shake your hand, but," he trailed off as the both of you turned to your bloodied gloves.

"Don't worry," you said, a grin spreading across your face. "I'll give you a raincheck on that."

He hummed, uncrossing his arms and legs as he began to saunter over to you. For the most part, you could easily ignore his eye, stuck between your concentrated expression and steady hands. Having teams of professors and doctors looking over your shoulder for exams had prepared you well.

"Find anything curious?" He finally asked.

"Not really," you mumbled, gently cutting open the flesh of the stomach. "Not yet. There aren't any cuts or contusions of any notable kind. Only wound I could find was the bullet hole and an infected bruise on his toe. I'll be sending blood, stomach, and stool samples up to Peters soon, I'm sure you'll know more then."

As you took the samples out of the victim's stomach, Baxter circled the brightly lit table, stopping when he reached the feet. There he knelt, scanning the pale blue skin.

"How do you suppose he got this?"

"Haven't gotten there yet, but I'd assume he bashed it against some furniture," you said. He eyed you curiously but remained quiet for a moment.

"Looks like a puncture wound," he said slowly, contemplating his words carefully before he spoke.

"Give me a moment, sir," you said with a huff, sealing up the stomach tubes and setting them on the tray beside you.

Since you were the only doctor present, you had to hold the stomach walls open yourself, which kept you busy for a good two minutes before you could look at Baxter's little pointer. To your immense relief he waited patiently for you to finish sewing and setting away your tools, before shuffling to the side to make room for you at the end of the table.

As he noticed, there was a small, dark spot beneath his big toe's nail. Digging into your white coat pocket, you pulled out your magnifier glass and set it up close to the cold skin.

"Could be right," you said softly, focused more on your sight than your tongue. You raised a gloved hand, pulling at the wound, pushing on the bruise till the hole widened.

"Needle mark?"

"That's what I was thinking," you said, shoving your magnifier glass back in your pocket. "Good eye, Baxter. I'll tell Peters to check his blood for any trace drugs."

You circled back around to your spot on the table, sorting through the six tube samples before lifting the case into your arms. Noticing your small stumble over your feet, he rushed over to join you, taking the case from you.

"I can take this up for you," he offered, his wide, grey eyes set strictly upon you. The sudden closeness had your words stammering and stuttering.

"Um – y- yeah, thank you," you said with a smile, your chest tight as he left. Only when the door shut behind him did you breathe again, turning back to the patient beneath you.

Hopefully, when you got the chance to meet the rest of the officers, you wouldn't slip up like that––messing up in front of one person was enough, and Baxter already felt like a very strange person, so probably would mind your oddness the least. The others would be less forgiving, or at least that's what you assumed. Most of the police you'd met in your life had been incredibly straight-cut, diamonds-up-the-ass kind of people.

"What a strange lad," you commented to your patient. "I should bake him some cookies."

The rest of the autopsy took three hours, full of rotting stenches and labelled gizzards. Your thirty-minute break was reduced to ten as the victims of a bar shootout came in, the three bodies riddled with bullet holes, leaving the cause of death obvious to anyone who stopped by. You didn't see Baxter again that day––not until it was done, and you were wrapped back in your personal coat, heading towards the elevator.

He caught the door before it could close in front of you, and as you rushed in with full hands you hurriedly thanked him. A bell dinged and the door shut, leaving the two of you alone in the enclosed space, the buzzing florescent light buffering between you.

"Did you hear about the shootout?" You asked when it became clear to you that this was a slow elevator.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I got a call and stopped by, but... they were already gone, and the, um.. the others were dead."

"Well, if they weren't then, they are now," you said, once again ignoring his questioning eye. "I had to put their brains in some jars."

To your surprise, he chuckled, brushing the hair off his face and readjusting his perfect posture.

"You know, usually it takes some time before new people start making jokes about the dead," he said, grinning as he looked at you out of the side of his eye.

"I'm a fast learner and a natural comedian. Mother always was disappointed in my career choice... wanted me to be a court jester," you teased with your own giggle, heart beating rapidly at the prospect of someone pretty enjoying your company.

"You do well in both careers. Do – do you need some help with that?" He asked, noticing your struggle with the varied bags in your arms.

"I think I can do it," you said, huffing as you tried to hoist the plastic back onto you. Before you could help it two of them slipped, nearly falling but halted when Baxter caught them mid-air.

"What do you have in here?" He asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to glance inside.

"Clothes," you said after a mumble of a 'thank you'. "One of the women here had a lot of clothes to get rid of and, well, I need some. And I'm sure one of my roommates could use them, too."

"Oh. Do you have a car?"

"You could call it that."

"I'll help you carry these there, then," he said, taking another bag off your shoulder. The loss of stress on your muscles left you relieved, and you sighed happily.

"Thank you, sir."

You tried to contain your smile as you led him through the parking lot, slipping between the empty spaces to get to your tiny vehicle. Legally it wasn't even a car––actually, you'd built it from the basis of a golf cart, slowly adding and changing features until it drove and looked essentially like a car. Hard work, but you'd been doing it since you stole it in the 7th grade.

Rarely did you ever get along with people, and so Baxter's politeness had sparked a delight in you that brought a ceaseless smile. When you took the bags from him, you thanked him again, attempting to hold a conversation while shoving the bags into the back of your car. He chuckled at your strained words, but eventually helped you when he got over his amusement.

"It was nice to meet you today, and thank you, again," you said once the backdoor was slammed shut beneath yours and Baxter's combined strength.

"Pleasure to meet you, as well. Drive safe now," he said, shaking your hand with a grin.

"Oh I will," you assured him, laughing. You clambered into the driver's seat, shutting the door but leaning out the open window. "If I don't I'll have you on my ass."

"You know it!" He said as he walked away, his bright laugh echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot.

#detective baxter x reader #detective baxter #the little things #rami malek #rami malek character

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU. Sort of. Lots of outsider perspective.

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links. So. Here’s the AO3 link to the series.

McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct. He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park. That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate. That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate. Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere. And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just. Disappeared.

The county wanted answers. So, they sent McGee. Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that. As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.

So, yeah. Bracing. Just like the wind. Ouch, it was cold. McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.

The… underground parking garage. Wind?

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from. There weren’t exactly any windows down here.

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button. The doors opened immediately. Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.

Well. If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music. He kept his face carefully blank. It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head. They were decorated with bells. How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins. We’ll probably be working together at some point. Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department. We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.” He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly. “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time. But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner. You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives. That’s going to be weird.” He sipped from his mug again. “Maybe we’ll promote someone. Not Cameron Daily, though.” Collins stared into the middle distance. “No. Not Cameron Daily. Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.

“Hah. Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.” Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck. At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’ Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate? Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went. The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office. Was the man a fan? Did he believe in that ghost nonsense? Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on. We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.” Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze. “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah. So, the captain was suspicious. Time to put that backstory to good use.

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm. See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel. We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.” The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change. “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll. Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins. I know you met him. Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid. Both of their backs were to McGee. He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests. All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.

“—until he sees his first fight? We’re supposed to babysit him until January? We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly. Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.

“Oh. McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee. You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it. How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.

“Only since yesterday. Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.

Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads). There was something else. Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on. Something—

He did a double-take. Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters? Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins. He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot. “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm. Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.” He pulled the parking brake. “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face. “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t. You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested. “This isn’t just any new resident. This is a coworker. A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee. This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further. “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins. “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped. God. It was just some kid. McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen. “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh. That was interesting. Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson. “This is McGee. McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast. Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…” He trailed off. “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway. Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.” He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny. “Might have to play animal control soon, though.” There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises. Danny winced. “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging. “Straight from the mayor. Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins. “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny. He sighed. “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.

“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within. “Your kingdom awaits!” He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust. “You’ll be entering old cases into the system. Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech. “Yes,” he said.

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back. “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep. You’ll learn about those later. VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great. So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.

Collins nodded. “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.” He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder. “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk. There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins. “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away. A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.

McGee turned to his work and smiled. They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.

It was odd, though. He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.

The department computer filing system was a miracle. McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems. He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it. It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.

The record room was not well organized. In fact, it was barely organized at all. Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed. A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room. Only about half of them were labeled.

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week. -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans. Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans. Unless they were a front.

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop. He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.

Except.

Except. The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist. Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped. Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” He took the offered cup from her. “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently? You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.” Patterson was unperturbed. “Yeah, that was pretty exciting. Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah. Well, there wasn’t any foul play.” Patterson shrugged.

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson. “There wasn’t anything there. Case was cold even without that.” Another long, aggressive sip. She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw. It had to be mostly air.

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life. This was saying something. Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged. “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that. Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too. You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.” Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes. The ones that got fished out of the lake. Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake? Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson. “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah. One more thing. I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson. “Come back at eight. Bye.” She waved as she left.

Great. What was he supposed to do about that?

He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town. Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative. They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.

But they had avoided certain parts of town. McGee had noticed.

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble. Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground. Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself? Were those tourists? In the graveyard?

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride. This whole town was in poor taste.

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave. Maybe it was a funeral? No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today? Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it? McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh. The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman. “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.

McGee grinned. “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman. She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him. A lie. Or, at least, deciding which lie to use. “Well, there was a body found a few months ago? No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here? We just, um. It was sad, you know? You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually. Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week #ectober week 2020

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