#I think I'd really like being friends with my senior colleague actually

[oldmanlusting]

Quickly how do you befriend an older man with as far as you know no common interests

[ohtobeleah]

Leah babe. Whenever you’re ready we’re here patiently waiting for the next update of TH&TH.

THIS TOOK ME FUCKING FOREVER TO WRITE!! And as promised, an earlier update as the Masterlist received 1’000 notes!! Ahhh. Anyway—here’s the next chapter. Also the Masterlist for those who need to catch up. We're getting closer and closer to the end of what I'd say would be series finale of season one of TH&TH. But a series two would be on the cards.

Jake Seresin never thought he’d fly for the Navy, he had every intention of joining the airforce from the day he knew what a plane was. The white walls of his childhood bedroom were plastered with air force propaganda posters spanning decades, yet they all told him the same thing. That planes were cool and that someday he’d fly one. He remembered as he sat in his F-18 Super Hornet that the longer he sat staring at the walls he littered with his dreams, his passion—the more he wanted it. A common denominator however for a lot of Jake Seresin's teen and adulting life choices had been one thing and one thing only. You. 

As Jake took his only shot at saving his colleagues' lives as they gained altitude towards the sun–like a modern day version of Ikaris themselves, Jake thought back to the moment he thought maybe the Navy wouldn't be such a bad career choice after all. 

“You wanna do what?” Sitting on your best friend's bed you told Jake that you were starting to think about a career in the Navy. “Say it again for me real quick, I don't think I heard you correctly.” He teased as he spun around on his desk chair, flipping the pen he’d been doing his homework with through his fingertips. 

“I said, I was talking to Sarah the other day and she said her older brother is a clearance diver and loves it.” You explained as you sat with your History book open on page one hundred and forty nine. Reading about the social and political constructs of the highly controversial and deeply divisive ruler—empress Wu. “Been thinking about it a lot actually–seemed pretty neat.” You couldn’t really focus on her rise from common concubine to empress when Jake was staring into your soul from across his room though. 

“You know if you go into the Navy and I go into the Air Force we can't be friends anymore right?” Jake taunted before you threw his own pillow his way. “What!” He gasped. “I'm just saying–it's kinda like a given thing that the branches all kinda hate each other.” It was your senior year of highschool so the reality of the real world was starting to kick in. You'd both been giving a lot of thought into what you wanted to do after school. If a gap year was on the horizon or if college was a possibility. Or for you maybe it was the Naval Academy and for Jake it would be the BMT. 

For now though, you and Jake both worked down at the local pizzeria after school–it was supposed to be your way of being able to spend more time together. But when the big boss had noticed that the two of you barely got anything done when you were both rostered on together? He made sure to end that real quick. 

“Doesn't the Navy have like, Naval Aviators or something?” You sighed, not realising just how much of a spark it lit inside Jake as he watched you return to your work. “If we both enlisted maybe we might be able to take on the world together?” You weren't putting all that much thought into what you were saying, simply making light hearted conversation with your best friend as you both did whatever homework you both had due the next morning. You History and Jake Mathematics–always the maths guy. “Who knows, But hey–if you do go into the Air Force and fly those stupid planes that cost way too much money I guess you already have a callsign.” Smirking, Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the chest. 

“Oh no. No way would I ever use Hangman as my call sign.” Jake huffed as he shook his head. “It's stupid.” 

“It's who you are, idiot.” You reminded him, all those moments where he’d hung around his locker waiting for the right moment to talk to you only to be left hanging had the namesake sticking to him like super glue all through high school. Like fuck was Jake taking that shit with him into his adult life. “Besides, it suits you.” 

The pad of Jake's thumb hit the trigger for his missile lock system the moment he’d been drawn back into the present by the tone he’d locked on the fifth generation fighter pilot. He watched as the jet exploded into a thick black fiery cloud that surely had to be lethal for whoever had been sitting in the cockpit. Knowing that he was coming home to you and whoever he’d just shot down wasn't. That would be his second air to air kill. You hadnt taken well to the first one–he wondered for a moment if you'd love him any less now that he had two. 

“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is your savour speaking.” Jake put on his usual persona of the guy who everyone just couldn't stand as he came racing through the plume into vision of Chaos and Rooster. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright position and prepare for landing.” He watched as Chaos looked his way and smacked her first twice against the side of the cockpit, laughing behind her mask. He couldn’t really tell from this distance how fucking close to death she really was. 

“Hey Hangman, you look good.” Rooster commented from the back seat, not his usual position on a fighter jet. All things considered though it probably still had a pretty good view. Jake nodded peacefully in response, he was going to say something about how he wanted to throw up over the fact he’d left you like he did to get here. Crying, screaming his name, yelling at him that you needed him. He wanted to mention that it killed him to know he left you heartbroken in his best friend's arms because he just put his colleagues above you and even more so above his own safety. Or that if he’d listened to your direct orders to stand down Rooster and Chaos may very well not be alive right now. He wouldn’t ever say that to you—ever.

Jake didn’t say any of the aforementioned things, he couldn’t. The words failed him when he tried to convey the right things to say—they always had, but in this very instant he knew his worry and utter agony was written in the lines on his face. 

Jake just nodded and laughed with them. 

“I am good Rooster, I'm very good.” He paused as he broke right and turned back to head towards the carrier. He wondered if the girl who sat on his bed that one time and said you could both take on the world together would still want to charge at it head on when he landed or if you’d throw your hands up and finally say enough's, enough. “I'll see you both back on deck.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“You’re okay Hawkeye, I got you.” Javy rocked with you as you clung to him in utter heartbreak. There was no sense of time anymore, you didn't know if you'd been left on the runway for two minutes or two hours as you cried out in utter heartache loud enough for anyone walking the flight deck to hear. “Jakes gonna bring em home.” 

“You don’t know that–what if he never comes home.” Javy wasn't about to tell you that he had that feeling too, he wasn't about to break your heart any more than Jake had already done so in order to go after Rooster and Chaos. “He's the love of my life Javy–” Javy felt his own heart shattering as he held you a little tighter, sitting with you between his legs in the middle of the runway. His arms encapsulated you like he was shielding you from the world around you. Not wanting you to ever be hurt again. “What am I supposed to do without him huh? What does he fucking want from me!?” 

“He doesn't want nothing Hawk, he probably just knows by now that you love him enough to know that whatever happens, good or bad–he had all the right intentions.” Deep down you knew Javy was right, you did love Jake enough to know that a year ago–or even just a few months ago for that matter, he never would have done this.  

Levi ‘Elvis’ Macarthy was a terrible person and an even worse influence on your husband. He was the very dictionary definition of superficial. There wasn't a person you loathed more than Jake’s current Wingman. You knew Levi wouldn't hesitate to leave Jake in the dust if things went wrong, but what scared you so much more was Jake had become the very same. 

“Oh my god—“. You just couldn't hold it in any more, your marriage had fallen to shambles around you before there was anything left to salvage. Your grandmother always used to tell you like because and you love despite. But with Jake? Over the last few months nothing seemed worth it. “You're worse than Levi.” You had just been discussing Jake's latest deployment, he hadn’t bothered to tell you until three days out. “Levi, he’s a selfish superficial asshole but he can’t help it, Jake–but you? You could be a good person but you wanna be an asshole! You are so obsessed with getting promoted and becoming the best of the very best that you’re choosing to be a piece of shit—“ It would be your last fight, the fight that drove you over the edge, the one you couldn't come back from. The fight where things were said that you couldn’t take back no matter how badly you wanted to. It was the fight that put all your others to shame. 

“Okay stop pretending this is some moral dilemma!” Jake hadn’t told you about his next deployment because he knew that you still weren’t over his last. He didn't know how to tell you without starting a fight. Which inevitably happened anyway. 

“It is a moral dilemma! You’re pushing everyone away to chase a fucking pipe dream!” You were so proud of Jake and everything he’d accomplished, but the idea that you were the only one who was didn't sit right with you. You knew he lived for the applause, but you couldn't cheer him on from the bleachers alone. “You’re a lieutenant! God isn't that enough for you at this moment? Revel in it a little before you chase the next rank!”  

“Oh you wanna go there?” Jake scoffed as he took strides towards you, crossing the distance of the living room. “You—“. Jake spat, his voice laced with venom as he spoke to you like he hadn’t been in love with you since the very first time he saw you let alone spoke to you. Pointing his finger into your chest. “You’re afraid to climb the ladder.” He barked. “Tell me love.” The term of endearment made you weak in such a heated moment. “When was the last time you actually did something you were proud of? You spend all your time worrying about me and what I'm doing and what I'm supposedly becoming because you're too fucking scared to fucking apply yourself, you're scared that even if you tried just a little goddamn harder that you'd still be told you're a crap analyst!” He didn't mean any of it, he just wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt him. But Jake? Well he couldn't attack your person, so he went for your job, your career. He knew you held a little self doubt about your position in the Navy, unlike himself who just oozed confidence in every aspect. “Always a Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral.” 

“You go on this deployment, I won't be here when you get back.” This time you weren’t messing around. The idea had crossed your mind a time or two when things had gotten really bad, when you thought it would be easier to run than to stay and figure it out. 

“What?” Jake had suddenly lost all his male bravado. “What the hell are you talking about?” Although you’d thought about it, you’d never said it out loud. Never mentioned the idea to anyone. “Baby–” His eyes were soft and suddenly full of regret, had he gone too far this time? 

“You heard me Jake so help me god if you go, don’t expect me to fucking be here when you get back.” You thought your love for Jake Seresin could outlast any challenges you faced, but when he was the challenge himself? What else was left to do. 

“You know I have to though—you know better than anyone that I can’t just not go?” His eyes took in the entire expanse of your face, every small mark and imperfection that made you perfect to him in every way. Cupping your face between his hands. “Wifey, we’re okay, we don't have to do this.” You ignored Jake's words as you focused on the first statement that slipped past his lips. 

“Seems like an inevitable outcome then doesn’t it?” You continued, only to pull away and turn on your heels. Holding back the flooded dam that threatened to break if Jake made any attempt to keep you here. Stop you from leaving–.if he asked you to stay you knew it would be all the more harder to go, without question. You loved him so much. 

“Baby don’t leave me.” You left in the middle of the night that same night. 

He never would have put the lives of his fellow aviators above his own and he most certainly wouldn't have defied direct orders to risk his life in order to save another. The version of Jake Seresin that you almost served divorce papers to was long gone. Dead and buried. Replaced by the very best version of himself you knew he could be. The version you fell in love with during highschool. The version who asked you to marry him one random night in July under the stars as waves lapped around your ankles. The version you saw a future, a present and had a past with. It didn't hurt any less though, knowing that the outcome of all his soul searching may end up with the same outcome you’d left him over in the first place. 

You'd' still receive that folded flag, you’d still cry as his coffin was lowered, only now you knew for sure that you wouldn't be the only one to mourn him. 

“GET HER OFF THE DAMN RUNWAY!” Pete Mitchell could be heard screams from the barricades that you jumped over to reach your husband in time, to no avail. You’d fallen into a heap in Coyote's lap, inconsolable and crying as your heart raced at the thought you’d never see Jake again. Clutching at Javys flight suit, the nornex not doing much at all to dry your tears. “COYOTE! GET HER UP BEFORE YOU TWO GET RUN OVER BY A GODDAMN F-18!” 

“Someone tell my wife I'm coming home.” Jake had radioed back to the tower all the while you and Javy had been sitting on the flight deck. He had started making his way back to you the second he wasn't needed, he saw no need to string out your obvious heartbreak. He couldn't wait to get back to you, tell you how sorry he was, how much he loved you, how much you meant to him and how badly it broke his own heart he had to leave you behind like he did–but he knew Rooster and Chaos needed him just a little bit more in the very moment. Jake also couldn't wait to let you know how idiotidc it was to stand in the middle of a goddamn runway. How endearing and brave and oh so stupid he found it. He knew that you were going to tear him a new one about his actions, that was his only leg to stand on. You were miss prim and proper, he was reckless and foolish–the better halves of each other. “Someone tell Y/n I’m okay, for the love of god someone tell her I'm alright.” It was a plea that fell on somewhat deaf ears though, no one could get to you to relay the message and Pete Mitchell certainly wasn't about the scream that crossed the flight deck of the carrier. 

“We gotta move Lieutenant Commander–” Javy cooed as he tried to lift you up. Deadweight against his arms, you didn’t budge for love nor nothing. “Hey, Jake’s coming back, surely.” Pointing over your shoulder to the black dot in the distance headed straight for the carrier Javy tried his best to break through whatever haze had begun to cloud your better judgement. “You see that speck? That's Jake, so unless you wanna get railed by the cord that's gonna come at us at about a hundred miles an hour I suggest we move and the second he lands, I'll let you go? Deal?” You didn't believe Coyote as he tried to be the voice of reason, but as you watched the speck get a little closer, a little more defined, it sparked a hope inside you that you wanted to believe in. That it was Jake and he was coming home. 

“Shit–” You scrambled to your feet, dusting your uniform off as Javy took your hand in his, one hand behind the small of your waist as he guided you over to where the rest of the group stood. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, all desperately awaiting the return of Hangman, Rooster and Chaos. “You really reckon it's him?” You asked as you approached Maverick, he hated the look in your eyes. Despair. Your eyelashes were wet and your cheeks were stained but none of that really mattered when he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and nodded, bringing out a haphazard smile across your face for the briefest of moments. 

“It's him Hawk, it's all of them.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

It was the smoothest of landings Jake had ever pulled off. Everything had gone according to plan. When the tail hook caught on the catcher cord, slowing Jake's Super Hornet to nothing, he could finally breathe again. There wasn’t a lot that confronted Jake Seresin, but when he took off from the carrier, leaving you behind? He’d never felt such a fear in the back of his throat. It resonated with him until he leaned. 

The cheers roaring out from his colleagues and fellow Naval men and women were enough to have him popping his canopy, holding his helmet in his hand as he fist bumped the air. Ravelling in the moment, the glory, the praise. Jake Seresin lived for the applause—and for the almost good enough but not quite worthy Dagger Spare, he thought he’d done pretty well for a guy who hadn’t made the team. 

“You’re insane!!” Phoenix beamed as she tapped Hangman on the shoulder three consecutive times. “And I’m not gonna tell you you’re great, but well done.” He barely acknowledged her, his eyes catching you in the crowd. The roar of success faded as he handed Bob his helmet—without taking his eyes off you. A smirk crept across his face when he saw you falter for a mere moment. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were utterly and wholeheartedly relieved he was safe. But for a split second as the crowd cheered and separated just enough for Jake to barge his way to you—you couldn’t not let the happiness consume you. 

“Hi wifey—“ Is all Jake manages to say before you’re barreling at him. Running full speed into his arms. With a jump and a graceful lift, your lips are connecting with your husbands as he catches you in his strong arms. Hands on your ass as he kisses you back. Your arms thrown around his shoulder as he deepened the kiss you thought for a while there you’d never get to experience again. “I’m so so—“ You didn’t let him finish as your open palm slapped against his cheek. 

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, do you hear me?” It wasn’t harsh enough to actually hurt, but it was still with enough force that took Jake aback. “Hangman—do you hear me?” Eyeing off the little gold heart he wore with so much pride.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from beaming at you. He loved you, oh so much. Kissing you again with haste as he nodded against your lips. “So stupid, I can’t believe you do that! Never again okay?” You pleased as Jake kissed you, talking into his mouth as teeth clashed together and tongues danced. Cupping his face to make sure this was real. That he was back and he was safe. “You hear my baby? You got nothing to prove.” 

“Loud and clear ma’am, loud and clear.” Mumbling into your mouth as he held you up by your thighs. The cheering of the entire crew around you made it all the more remarkable. Jake Seresin was a hero, and a beloved one at that. “You’re not off the hook either, pretty girl.” Jake smirked against your lips. “Jumping barricades and barrelling up runways.” It was true, it hadn’t been your finest moment, but you did it all for love. “So stupid wifey, you know that right?” You knew, so the only dignified response you gave was a silent nod. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back—“ You mumbled just shy of a whisper as you let your forehead rest against Jakes as he slowly put you down. Bending over with you to chase your lips again. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. 

“I’ll always come ba—“ Again, you slapped him again. This time a little harder as he trapped your hand in his. Making sure you couldn’t slap him again. “Okay, you gotta stop slapping me.” Jake poked his tongue against the inside of his slightly throbbing cheek as you eyed him off. 

“Sorry, I just needed to make sure you were listening.” Racing past the bridge of the carrier where both Admiral Beau and Admiral Bates stood. Chaos flew low and close as you looked up overhead. She held her finger up to the glass. Giving the admirals the bird before her right engine cut out. “But I’m so proud of you Jake—you brought them home.” 

“So I’m off the hook?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow, cocking the corner of his lip slightly as you shook your head. Laughing. 

“Oh, oh no—no no no Jacob, you are most definitely not off the hook.” You called him Jacob, he knew he was in shit when Jacob slipped past your lips. “But for now I think you deserve to have your moment.” You gestured to the crowd around you now cheering on Chaos and Rooster as they landed in the barricade. “Go celebrate your victory Lieutenant.” 

“I love you, Wifey!” Jake beamed as he stepped back, immersing himself in the crowd around him. “Love you to the moon and back!” He grinned before turning around, finding his way to the two people he risked it all for. 

“I love you all that much more.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

It had been a few weeks since the Uranium mission had come to its completion. The Admirals had made it abundantly clear that the ragtag team of aviators who had grown to be more like family than just colleagues could have a few precious weeks of unrestricted leave for their duties and sacrifices. Bradley Bradshaw and Robert Floyd had chosen to stay in North Island; They weren’t leaving until they knew for sure that Chaos Kazansky was going to be okay. For you and Jake? Things had mellowed out, settled down and you were both working through the underlying issues that were still plaguing whatever future you were both preparing to have with one another. 

Like today for example, you were both about to find out the paternity results of the DNA test Jake had taken for Marissa. He knew it wasn’t his kid, but he knew you needed that in writing. 

“Okay ladies cough up.” The Miramar Base Hospital smelt of sterile everything but the nurses station? They smelt of that Ariana Cloud Perfume and whatever food had been on offer in the cafeteria that day. “Who owes me what?” You teased as the three ladies sitting behind the glass fished out their wallets and all handed you a ten dollar bill. Much to their own displeasure. You smirked, collecting your earnings with no sympathy. 

“Much appreciated ladies—“ You winked. When Jake had first started doing the rounds for Chaos, you’d gone with him one time early on. The ladies at the front desk had mentioned Jake would always stop and have a chat—nothing malicious, nothing sinister behind it. He just enjoyed the praise he received. And you saw nothing wrong with that—but you’d started an underground betting ring not three days later with the nurses. If your husband was gonna act the foot? The least you were gonna do was make some extra money off him. “Someone ask him about his call sign next time he stops by, if he says anything else besides the fact he was left hanging by a girl he had a crush on in highschool he’s a liar—“ You picketed the cash as you turned on your heels. “Fifty Bucks ladies, take it or leave it.” 

“You look rather nice today Commander?” One of the nurses cooed as she hollered down the hall after you. You weren’t really sure what she was on about to be honest, you were just in a pair of old jeans and a sweater. Maybe it was the brown hair you now wore with pride. Jake had been right, Blondes did have more fun and you had certainly had your fair share during your time back at Miramar. You weren’t meant to be a blonde. So back to your roots you went. “Anything in particular got you all dressed to the nines?” 

“Just enjoying the rest and relaxation ladies, nothing else to it.” You smiled back at them before making your way further into the hospital—running into your husband and Bob shortly after. “I was just coming to see Chaos? How is she?” You asked Bob as Jake took you under his arm, pulling you closer to his side as he kissed the top of your head. It still smelled of brown box dye. He’d helped you colour it back a few nights prior. That in and of itself should have been a mission he had taken more seriously. 

“Awake, she wanted to be with Rooster for a little while.” Bob explained softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee, do you want anything Commander?” You still weren’t all that keen on everyone calling you commander, shaking your head softly you sighed as Bob stood before you with tired eyes. 

“I’m good, and would you please just call me Hawk if anything Bob? Even Y/n’s totally fine—you guys are family. I don’t want you calling me Commander if we’re not on duty or working together.” 

“Yes ma’am, I’ll see you guys a little later.” Bob was tired, he walked the halls like a ghost of his former self. He and Rooster had been tag teaming for weeks and you knew Jake was worried about them both. 

“God I feel awful.” You mumbled into Jake's shoulder. “We should do something for them.” 

“Only thing we can do is just be here for them.” Jake kissed the top of your head before making a cheeky remark. “Commander Seresin.” He expected the elbow he copped to the ribs but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “Ohh—“ He doubled over for a moment as he stilled in his tracks, watching as you kept walking down the hall. “Okay, I definitely deserved that.” 

“Bet you thought it was gonna be you who made commander first, didn't ya hot shot?” You teased over your shoulder as your husband caught back up to you. “What was it again? Always the Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral?” Quoting the remark Jake had made during one of your more heated arguments. “I’m sure you’ll catch up, Lieutenant.” 

“I liked you better when you were just a lieutenant commander—“ Jake taunted as you both rounded the corner. Laughing you just shook your head. “So cocky now—someone better tap you on the head before you fly too close to the sun there, Icarus.” 

“You know I don’t fly, Flyboy—“ You taunted back as you reached for Jake's hand, walking side by side towards the office of Dr. Sanders—she’d called you earlier that same morning to confirm the results of Jake's paternity test had come in and as had your fertility checks. “And before you say anything, no—I’ve seen the way you fly, I’m not getting in one of the tin cans with you.”

“Javy said he’d take you up if you wanted to?” 

“Oh fuck off—“ You couldn’t hold back to scoff. “You know I’m terrified of flying, never in a million years would you ever get me up in one of those things.” It had always been something you’d pushed to the wayside, but even when you flew commercially, you needed anxiety callers to keep you from panicking. “Thanks, but no thanks.” 

“Ah, there’s the lovely couple!” Dr. Sanders greeted you both with a wide smile as you approached her door. “Come on in, we have a lot to talk about.” 

“All good news I hope?” Jake questioned as he let you enter first and pulled your chair out for you. A kind but almost jarring gesture. The look on Dr. Sanders' face said it all though—it wasn’t. Fuck.

“Mr Seresin, how sure were you that this child wasn’t yours?” She asked and for a moment there you forgot how to breathe. Holy shit, was Jake actually a father? To another woman’s child? 

“Fairly certain I could back my entire career on the matter, why?” Jake still expressed so much confidence in the matter at hand, he never once wavered from his standpoint. It was almost admirable. He sat beside you, reaching out for your hand because he knew if anyone was freaking out right this second it was you—running the pad of his thumb across your palm. 

“Remind me to never second guess your better judgement, you’re not the father Jake—I’m not sure whether to say congratulations or my condolences but biologically speaking no, that child isn’t yours.” 

“That’s exactly what we wanted to hear.” Jake smiled as he turned his cocky attitude towards you fully. “Never doubted it for a minute.” 

“I’ve already informed the other party, she sends her best wishes.” Dr. Sanders sighed before she opened the tan folder on her desk. “Now—onto you little miss, what am I going to do with you.” She sent you a soft smile. This was never an easy part of her job, but education was key.

“Lay it on me doc, I can take it.” Your hand squeezed Jakes just a little tighter as you shifted in your seat. Knowing whatever Dr. Sanders was about to tell you was going to knock the wind from your lungs. 

“Y/n, you have blockage in your left fallopian tube, that means that when sperm are trying to make their way to an egg the blockage is stopping them before they can fertilise.” You really didn’t know what to say as you sat shocked in silence. “It doesn’t necessarily mean a natural conception isn’t possible, it just means that the chances are less likely and if you do ever decide to have children, prenatal vitamins and hormone treatments will aid in the process. And hopefully whatever sperm does make the journey, they take a right instead of left.” 

“Is there anything we can do to remove the blockage?” You asked softly, there was a small part of you who didn’t want to know the answer. But you asked regardless. 

“There’s surgical procedures we can schedule you in for—but they're all quite major and can lead to even more pressing complications like infertility overall.” Dr. Sanders explained. “It’s better to leave well enough alone and hope that the one you still have can come through, otherwise? There’s IVF treatments, adoption—“ Dr. Sanders made it abundantly clear to both you and Jack in her office that you were, in fact, not broken. She’d seen too many women come through her doors that wore the same face she was currently looking up. “You my dear are not broken, you just need to take a few extra steps.” 

“I’m—uh, can we take home all the information you have on all the options please?” Jake could hear it in your voice how scared and upset you truly were. All he could do in the moment though was reassure you that he was there, right beside you. Squeezing your hand to keep you grounded in reality. “We’ll go over everything at a later date.” 

“Of course, and if you ever need a consultation you know where to find me.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“When are you gonna go up with Hawk?” Coyote smirked at you through the mirror of the free weight section of the base gym. Finishing your set of lateral raises, you huffed out a groan when you placed the weight down. It’s a bad dream by Good Charlotte played through the speaks as you looked at Javy through the mirror. His smugness rubbing you the wrong way immediately. 

“Who told you I ever would?” Two more weeks had passed since the events of the uranium mission and new postings were starting to trickle in. You’d yet to receive yours, but Jake had reciprocated his. A full time position here in North Island. If he wanted it. He’d get to accept—waiting to see what would come of you. 

“Uh, your husband?” Javy sent you a look as if to say who else would’ve told him that. “You two seem good these days?” He asked, still standing behind you in the free weight section, looking at you through the mirror. “Seem happy?” It was no secret to anyone that knew you and Jake that you had your demons, but over the last few weeks, amongst everything else going on—you’d seemed to work a few things out. 

“I think we’re gonna do a few couples therapy sessions but yeah, we’re good.” You smiled over at Jake who’d been doing some boxing with Payback. “I’ll never find a better part of me Javy, and honestly I’m starting to think that I'd rather be here for him than anywhere else in the world for myself.” 

“He loves you.” Javy smirked softly as you turned to face him. “I remember there was this one time I had to really reel him in from going fully off the rails just after you’d left.” You’d never heard Coyote speak his truth on the matter before. “He was fucked Hawk—he knew he drove you away but was just too stubborn to admit it to anyone around him let alone himself.” 

“I wasn’t innocent in the whole thing—“ You added as you let your eyes linger back over to Jake, he’d lost his shirt somewhere along the long as he held the pads for Payback. A thin sheen of sweat covering him head to toe. “But you like because and you love despite.” 

“You did what you had to do.” Javy added, only to change to conversation seconds later back to his original question. “Come in Hawk, one ride—come up with me for service checks?” 

“I dunno Coy—“ You tried to protest, your fear of flying all consuming. But it was to no avail.

“You can’t be a commander without having flown once—“ You’d technically made Commander rank four weeks ago, but the official ceremony wasn’t until January. It wasn’t a question you could keep avoiding any longer, both Jake and Javy pestering you to no end about this joy flight. Were you particularly interested? No—but if you had to do it once to get them off your back it seemed as though the answer had to inevitably be a yes.

“Honestly? What's the worst thing that could happen?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626 @shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31 @abaker74 @shadowsndaisies @haworldwidefunnyguy @peakascum @ssprayberrythings @averyhotchner

[silverfoxstole]

Happy New Year, everyone! 🍾 🥂

Many thanks for all the follows, likes, reblogs, comments and chats over the last twelve months! ❤️ ❤️

(And to @amalthea9 for introducing me to Santiano; I’ve spent half my time listening to them this year! 🥰)

As I’ve not really been in the mood for drawing the last few days I thought I'd post a little piece I've written for Despatches this week. It's G-rated and set in my LKU, though I'm not entirely sure where.

Now We Shall Have The Turn Of The Year

The thirty-first of December isn't the best time to be stranded ashore, but Archie and Bush find a way to mark the date.

“Well, it could be worse,” Archie observed. “At least it’s not raining.”

Bush snorted, and poked their driftwood fire with the point of his sword. “No, that’s true. We’re completely stranded and virtually defenceless but at least the weather’s fair.”

“Sometimes, William, I swear you are an overcast day in human form.” Archie huffed as the cold wind chose that moment to remind him of its presence and he turned up his collar, scooting a little closer to the blaze. “Do you ever look on the bright side?”

He received a raised eyebrow in reply. “And which bright side would that be, pray?” Bush enquired. “It’s the middle of the night in December, we’ve no shelter and so far no one has acknowledged our signals. Add to that the fact that the admiral will probably be apoplectic when he finds out the ship is without three senior officers and I confess I fail to see any ‘bright side’ whatsoever. We’ll be lucky not to be court-martialled if we ever get back aboard.”

Archie reached into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve his watch and squinted at the dial in the light from the fire. “It’s not the middle of the night, it’s barely... well, would you look at that!” The minute hand had just ticked over the hour; the sight of this and sudden recollection of the date brought a smile to his face and he presented the timepiece to his colleague, who just peered at it.

“It’s midnight,” Bush confirmed, handing it back. “That’s hardly cause for celebration.”

“It is where I come from. Oh, just think for a moment,” Archie begged when he was given a blank look. “A minute ago it was the thirty-first of December, so now it must be..?”

“Oh.” Bush digested that information, and said flatly, “Happy New Year.”

“Thank you, Mr Bush.” It was all Archie could do not to roll his eyes. “Could you not perhaps summon a little more enthusiasm? It is Hogmanay, after all.”

“What difference does the date make? We’re still stuck on a beach in the dark, whether it’s this year or last. And what the hell is Hogmanay?” Bush demanded. “Something you’ve just dreamed up?”

Archie shot him a lofty glare. “I should be insulted by that. For your information, Hogmanay is a very important Scottish festival which welcomes the New Year. It’s actually more important to us than Christmas. Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an nivr brocht te mind? Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an ald lang syn?” he quoted in a rolling Scottish accent he’d picked up from his father’s head ghillie, grinning when Bush stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “What’s the matter? Don’t you agree?”

“I might if I understood what you were saying,” his friend replied, eyes narrowing in suspicion that he was being teased. “What was all that? I’ve heard more sense from Styles when he’s in his cups.”

“It’s Scots, you philistine! The land of my forefathers! Honestly, William, have you ever thought of learning a language other than your own?”

Bush shrugged. “Why should I need to?”

“Well, if you knew some French you might have been able to work out what Major Cotard was saying about you,” Archie muttered, adding quickly, “If you must know, to quote Rabbie Burns - ”

“Who?”

“A poet.” Archie sighed in frustration. Cultural conversations with Bush were impossible; the man never seemed to read anything but nautical textbooks despite Archie’s best efforts. “The poet, the one who wrote the words. I thought your sister might have heard of him, at least.”

The brow lifted again. “Maybe she has, but she doesn’t share such discoveries with me.”

“I wonder why? I said: Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?” Archie repeated without the exaggeration he’d used before. Unfortunately, even with greater clarity of word Bush still seemed baffled.

“And what exactly does that mean?” he asked, forehead furrowing.

Archie considered. “I’ve always taken it that the bard is asking whether old times should be forgotten. When we sing it tonight we’re seeing out the old year and welcoming the new one, and we shouldn’t forget what’s gone before.”

“’Sing’? Someone has actually put that nonsense to music?”

“Indeed they have.” Archie started to do just that: “And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup! And surely I’ll be mine! And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne!”

Bush looked amused. “And the translation of that is..?”

“Basically, if you’ll buy me a pint, I’ll buy one for you,” Archie told him with a grin.

Chuckling, the older man shivered and huddled further into his coat. “I confess, I wouldn’t say no to one just now.” He glanced into the darkness beyond the fire. “I wonder where Horatio’s got to?”

“Oh, you know what he’s like. He can’t just sit still and wait; he’ll be prowling between those beacons he lit, trying to spot any reaction.” Archie threw another stick on the fire. “He’ll be back when he gets bored. Or cold.”

“Hmm.” Bush sighed. After a minute or two of silence he announced, “Well, I suppose you’d better teach me this song of yours.”

Archie blinked in surprise. “You actually want to learn? I thought just now it was nonsense?”

“And so it is, but we’ve nothing else to do. It’ll help to pass the time.”

“That’s true,” Archie mused. “And if we sing loudly enough it may even attract some attention.”

“Yes, but would it be the right sort? We don’t want to bring the French down on us, Mr Kennedy,” Bush warned, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

Archie bit back his own smile. “No, sir, of course not.”

“Quietly, then. Now remind me: how does it go?”

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot - ” Archie began to sing in a low voice, only to be interrupted by a frown and a shake of the head. “What’s wrong?”

“In Scots,” Bush said, adding when Archie raised his eyebrows, “I thought you wanted me to learn another language?”

“To be fair, it’s more of a dialect, but are you sure? The English isn’t that much different, and - ”

Bush huffed impatiently. “Just get on with it.”

Archie did, and to his credit Bush tried; he didn’t have a bad ear for music and mastered the tune quickly but it soon became clear that the ability to manage an accent of any kind was beyond him and both of them dissolved into laughter as he mangled the words on his tongue, his initial embarrassment buckling in the face of Archie’s mirth. Despite this they soldiered on, though the song became more and more incomprehensible the closer to the end they got.

“No, William, it’s An there’s a han, my trusty feer! Now I know why you only speak English!” Archie exclaimed. “An gees a han o’ thyne! An we’ll tak a richt gude-willie-waucht - ”

“Don’t you dare call me Willie,” Bush told him in a dangerous tone, reaching for his sword. “Not if you want to live. And what the devil do geese have to do with it?”

Archie just shook his head, breathless as fresh laughter bubbled up, and collapsed back onto the sand. “Ach, Willie, gees a han here!” he said, waving one in the direction of his friend and explaining when Bush just gave him a hard stare, “A gude-willie-waucht is a good-will draught. A drink, you fool!”

“Is it really?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere nearby before Bush could respond. “I’ve never heard it called that before.”

Archie struggled onto his elbows and peered into the shadows to spot a vague shape a few feet away. “’Ratio! You’re back! Any luck?”

“No.” He could virtually hear Horatio’s frown. “And I hardly think this is appropriate behaviour for two of His Majesty’s officers, do you? Anyone would think you’d spent the evening in the tap room!”

“We’re just trying to amuse ourselves,” Archie replied, pre-empting the apology he knew would be on Bush’s lips. “I was teaching William a little ditty we Scots like to sing at this time of year.”

Horatio tutted and came forwards. “You sounded like a couple of dying cats. I’m surprised you haven’t drawn the enemy straight to us with all that noise.”

“We weren’t making that much noise - ”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was my idea,” Bush said, predictably, cutting off Archie’s protestations. He got to his feet, crossing to his captain’s side. “We should have changed the watch by now; shall I take a turn along the perimeter?”

After a moment’s contemplation Horatio shook his head. “No, sit down, Mr Bush. There’s nothing to be seen; I fear we’re stuck here until the morning.”

Nodding, Bush started to return to the fire but Archie held out a hand. “William, don’t move!” he ordered before the other man could take another step. “You too, ‘Ratio.”

“Archie, what on earth is the matter?” Horatio demanded as Bush opened his mouth to do the same. “What are you doing?”

“Just wait a moment.” Having reached for one of the sticks of driftwood they’d collected earlier, Archie scrambled a couple of feet towards them and as his friends watched, puzzled, used it to carefully draw a line in the sand between himself and the spot on which they stood. Once it was done he sat back on his heels. “All right; now you can come closer, but ‘Ratio, you go first and make sure you step over the line.”

He knew without seeing it that Horatio’s eyes had rolled heavenward so hard they were probably in danger of falling out. “Oh, for goodness’s sake, Archie - ”

“Over the line!” Archie commanded sternly. “And William, keep behind him.”

Despite looking as though they thought he was being utterly ridiculous they did as they were told, Bush hanging back so that his captain could cross first. Horatio grumbled under his breath as he joined Archie at the fire, holding out his hands to the flames before rubbing his arms briskly in an attempt to generate some warmth in the rest of his body. “Satisfied?” he enquired archly.

“Perfectly. We’ll have good luck now for the year ahead.”

Bush’s brow flicked as he stepped over the line. “Is this another strange Scottish custom?”

“It is: first footing. The first person to cross the threshold brings the luck for the year. I know that technically this isn’t a house and we don’t have a threshold, but it’s the closest we can get,” Archie said. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You should really be carrying coal or whisky, ‘Ratio. Or black buns. I don’t suppose you have any?”

Horatio made a show of checking his pockets. “Strangely enough, no. How remiss of me; I knew I forgot something when I got dressed this morning.”

“Coins?”

“I don’t bring money on shore raids, Archie. What would I need it for?”

“To pay an innkeeper if we’re stuck here for much longer?” Archie suggested. “I don’t intend to spend more than one night on this beach.”

Bush snorted. “Something to remember for next year, perhaps, sir.”

“Indeed.” Horatio’s forehead creased briefly, in either curiosity or confusion. “Why did I have to be the first over the threshold? Surely it wouldn’t have mattered which of us was the one to enter.”

“It most certainly would!” Archie retorted. “If you knew anything about such things you’d be aware that tall, dark-haired men are the preferred first foot; they’re the luckiest of all.”

“I’ve got dark hair,” Bush pointed out, sitting down. “Am I not lucky?”

“You might have dark hair, but you’re not tall, are you?” Archie countered and Horatio hid a smile when Bush looked disgruntled. “Horatio’s got at least four inches on you and that makes all the difference tonight.”

Despite his amusement Horatio still appeared to be faintly baffled as he took a seat on the sand between them. “But why tonight?” he asked. “What’s so special about tonight? Other than it being a complete disaster, that is.”

It was quite typical of him to have failed to mark the date; customs and festivals never had meant all that much in his case, and it was sometimes difficult to keep track of time passing when at sea. “It’s January the first,” Archie told him, and watched as realisation slowly dawned.

“Good grief, so it is. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Horatio’s expression darkened. “All the more reason for us to be back aboard; the hands will probably drink themselves into a stupor in our absence.”

“Not without your approval. Matthews knows better than that; he won’t authorise any extra rum without your express command. When we return we’ll find a crew who are the very picture of sobriety, I’m sure.”

“He’s right, sir, though they’ll probably be none too pleased about it,” Bush said. “Especially Styles.” Then the corner of his mouth curled upwards and with somewhat more enthusiasm than he had summoned earlier he offered, “Happy New Year, sir.”

Horatio ducked his head, and when he raised it again there was a smile in place of the scowl that had descended a few moments before. “Thank you, William. Let’s hope we have a better one ahead of us.”

“With you to bring us luck, sir, how could we not? I’d raise a glass to that, had I one.” Bush glanced at Archie. “But as I don’t... how does the song end, Kennedy?”

Archie hesitated. “In Scots?”

At the mere mention of singing Horatio grimaced and Bush shook his head. “I think for the sake of our captain here English might be better.”

“You just don’t understand the words,” Archie teased, and grinned when he just received a flat stare in return. “All right. But you can join in with the chorus.”

Relenting, Bush chuckled. “Very well, if I must.”

Horatio didn’t look any less pained but Archie raised his voice nonetheless: “And there’s a hand my trusty friend, And give me a hand o’ thine! And we’ll take a right good-will draught, For auld lang syne! For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, For auld lang syne!”

And, as if summoned by the music and to Horatio’s obvious relief, from somewhere in the distance came the sound of oars.

[beardedmrbean]

Hey! There’s something that’s been playing on my mind for a while now and would be great to get a reasoned male perspective on this. I think you’re really measured in your views, so would appreciate some input - but if you can’t be bothered, that’s no problem at all!

I’ve been with my partner for a few years now but the last year or so has been… rocky. He’s really busy at work so we barely see each other, and he’s too tired to really do anything when we have time. The issue for me is he’s got this female colleague he’s super close with and “likes spending time” with her. He’s said he finds her physically attractive but that they’re just friends. He goes for coffees and lunches with her during work (which, fine), will stay and have drinks with her on nights out after other colleagues have left, and talks to her about our relationship issues. Apparently the entire office is really close, but he’s closer with her because they’re more senior. Recently, he was complaining that we hadn’t seen each other in three days (we live together) but went for a walk with her within 30 mins of saying this. I’ve said I’m super uncomfortable with this and whilst I don’t think there’s anything untoward going on necessarily, I’m concerned he’s got a thing for her. He says he doesn’t and doesn’t see an issue with their relationship because they work in a stressful environment so have a comradeship if you will etc.

I honestly don’t know if I’m being unreasonable and overreacting. My female friends say they’d be uncomfortable with that too, but I don’t know if a dude might see things differently. Would love to hear your thoughts - and sorry for the mega long trauma dump!

This lines up in some ways with something I had going on in my early 20's.

I typed up 2 pages of stuff and realized it was just me going on a Garison Kilor style story that would have come around to the point eventually but would have crossed 12 time zones in the process.

(love his stories tho, saw the guy live it was incredible no scripts or prompts just a guy tellin a story) - almost did it again

My deal wasn't quite the same, lines up in a lot of places though.

I am not a professional so this is all lay stuff based on personal experience.

There needs to be some kind of boundaries created, work time, breaks and even the occasional wind down scotch not something to make an issue of unless there's a actual problem or some kind of thing in either of your histories that would make it less so.

When he's home, work should be on the back burner, if he's not bringing projects home to work on (better not be unless he's getting paid) pretty well everything to do with work needs to cease.

important for his mental health as well as the health of the relationship

I don't think that it's too much to ask though, keep your work stuff including people at work, random exceptions to be made as you said they're friends and the friendship extends beyond work so if she calls him up in tears because her hot Spanish lover Raymondo left her for the pool boy that's a very good time for a exception to be made, usually is with Raymondo he's a man whore like that.

In all seriousness though, there needs to be a separation between work and home it's something that all parties involved need to know and respect, generally speaking.

No clue what the industry is, but if it's as stressful as you let on as I put up a little bit, he needs to disconnect from that when he can just for his own sanity.

I don't think you're being unreasonable wanting him to spend not work time with you, and also letting him know it's making you uncomfortable isn't unreasonable either, honesty being very important in relationships.

But ya I would discuss boundaries and what is your together time and what that means, I hate ultimatums so not something I'd include personally, but a good talk seems in order.

Keep a note pad if you guys have a tendency to drift off topic so you can remember what the other topics were, little chatting cheat like having 37 wikipedia tabs open but for conversation.

I'll be keeping y'all on my prayer list for a while.

[artemisbarnowl]

I don't remember if I told y'all about how this woman in my course and I applied for the same job (Job C) and 1000% did not want to work with her but I didn't hear anything back so it was fine

and then another job in a different team but same organisation came up (Job Q) and we both applied for those too (job q has 3 openings, 2 team members same level as job c and a team leader, which is a more senior position), and i was super stressed that I was going to turn down financial security because working with her was so awful but she got interviewed and offered job C when I was being interviewed for job Q (both team member and leader at once) and she'd been talking like she preferred C so while the idea of having lunch with her every day doesn't appeal to me i can grit my teeth and do it as it's WAY better than being her close colleague so I can take job Q and have health insurance and a career and stuff. (My references were contacted on Friday for job Q so things are looking good at least for a team member role).

BUT I just got called for an interview for job C too??? Apparently there's multiple spots. But given they've already started onboarding at least one applicant (she's sent in all her paperwork and everything) I assume I'm either not the first choice and someone who did get interviewed backed out, or the recruitment agency or staff member handling my application is a little slow and they haven't found enough applicants to interview.

I'm REALLY hoping I hear about job Q this week before holiday shut down so I know what do do with my time, but interview for C is tomorrow and I guess it's good practise even if I dont get (or take) the job. And I can get feedback on my application and all that.

Anyway I got a lot of garbage on my brain this week so y'all just have to deal with that.

Also when I asked my friend if she definitely accepted the job C coz I got an interview she was like "I'm gonna call them" like chill sis I'm not stealing your job 🙄

ALSO in the couple of days before she was offered job C she also interviewed for job Q and was talking about how

- said "my referee says I'm too much of leader but didn't know how to make that sound like an area of improvement/weakness on my referees report so she just said something else"

- said I was definitely in a better position for the team leader spot since I'd actually managed people before (finally retail xp coming in handy)

-she'd DEFINITELY pick job C over even the Q team leader role since its more new skills

Like ALL of that sound like trying not to project your insecurities about wanting and thinking you're good enough for that higher paid position but also knowing no one else sees it like that so you're going to spin something safe as more desirable and sought after anyway.

Absolutely wild that out of us two I feel like the normal one. And I'm venting on Tumblr. I'm just actually honest with myself about what I want and what I'm insecure about. Whereas she has this acute need to appear in control at all times and also is a big fan of downplaying difficult things as easy once they're going her way and it really bugs me because im concerned I'm perceived the same way? And you can't just ask people that because it looks like fishing for validation when really I actually want to make sure I'm communicating well and am a pleasure to have in class you know?

[swissmissficrecs]

Hi! I really really love works like Through the Clouds and The Sea in a Chasm and Horse and Carriage where one of the boys proposes marriage or retirement together and the other struggles with what that means about their "friendship". Do you have any other fics you can rec me along that vein? I'd also love fics where Sherlock marries them without telling John!

Reply: I love these too! First of all, here are some relatedlists:

Fakerelationship

Couplestherapy

Gettingtogether late in life

And here are the ones you mentioned in case anyone else would liketo look them up:

Horse andCarriage by flawedamythyst (60K, Teen, Johnlock)Sherlockproposes. John thinks the whole idea is ludicrous.

Through theClouds by mazarin221b (20K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock takesa remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a changeof pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the SouthDowns, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quietcontemplation, bee studies, and book writing.They might go completelyinsane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’reliving to find the life you want.

The Sea in aChasm [orphaned] (17K, Teen, Johnlock and John/OFC)WhenSherlock decides to retire to Sussex, John decides to find out who heis without Sherlock.

Now I know I have read a couple of fics where Sherlock (or Mycroft) secretly procured a marriage license for them for medical or case-related purposes without John’s knowledge, but unfortunately I am not able to find them right now so if anyone else knows one please let us know! I can give you a bunch of others, though, in which thoughts of marriage lead to angst and re-examination of the relationship:

This is a very close second (and one of my all-time favorite fics)in which Sherlock pretends to be married to John without John’sknowledge:

The Good Morrowseries by greywash (213K, Explicit, Johnlock)My post-S2series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything andplausibility isstretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

In this one, Sherlock thinks John is going to propose but hedoesn’t, leading to relationship re-evaluation:

Stood in History by philalethia (18K, Explicit, Johnlock)He discovered the ring in John’s sock drawer. It all went a bit downhill from there.

In these, one or the other of them thinks about proposing for areally long time:

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (32K, Explicit, Johnlock)And Sherlock stands there, in the middle of a Christmas market as John hums along to Silent Night, John’s hand warm in his with fingertips a little gritty from the cinnamon-sugar doused churros they’d shared, and thinks, oh, that’s–that’s an idea, isn’t it?*For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (22K, Explicit, Johnlock)Proposing shouldn’t be this difficult.Written for this prompt at the kink meme: Remember that episode of Friends where Chandler is going to propose to Monica and how he pretends that he doesn’t care about marriage so she’ll be really surprised? How about a version of it with Sherlock and John with Sherlock being the one that wants to propose but pretends that he has no desire for it?

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (17K, Explicit, Johnlock)Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn’t simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. (Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.)

In these, both of them angst a whole lot over getting married:

Sketchy Part 2 by serpentynka (158K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC)What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work?   A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. (A continuation of plot arcs from Part 1 of Sketchy) When the world’s only consulting detective starts dreaming of bowing out, his dearest person in the world is more than willing to go with him.  It would seem that all that’s left to do is choose a date and leave London.  The machinations that be are never quite what they seem.

God Help Me, I Do by PlainJane (90K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mollstrade)A consulting detective, two doctors, a forensic pathologist, a DI, a senior citizen, a recovering alcoholic and the British government walk into a register office…John and Sherlock have resolved to be together as much more than just colleagues or friends, but how will their relationship change between the proposal and the wedding? Follow along as they learn about themselves and about each other. How will they share their news with those closest to them? How will John adjust to the reality of being in a relationship with a man instead of a woman? How will they both find time and space for personal and professional lives? And how will Sherlock cope with the intensity of true love? Cases, chuckles, angst and lots of good loving on the journey to one very unconventional wedding day.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (39K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding...

This has a similar premise to Horse and Carriage:

The Important Bit by Solshine (10K, G, Johnlock)Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

And finally these in which they get engaged/married for a case(with John’s knowledge) and it becomes serious:

Thanks to the Barbarians by queen_jadis (10K, Explicit, Johnlock)John and Sherlock get married for a case, which both of them find hilarious - until they realise that they can’t get a divorce. The offensive piece of paper has more effect on their relationship than John thinks it has any right to do.

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (91K, Teen, Johnlock)John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… 

Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (15K, Mature, Johnlock)When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike.

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by distantstarlight (96K, Explicit, Johnlock)For his entire life Sherlock Holmes has had complete mastery over his transport. He drives it harder than he should, is careless with it, and makes it bend to his will. His transport has always done it’s duty but lately Sherlock’s transport has been making some demands. 

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (16K, NC-17, Johnlock)John, we need to get married. 

Mountebank by Odamaki (26K, Mature, Johnlock)“I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.”

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (9K, Explicit, Johnlock)What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game.Of course it’s for a case.Of course it doesn’t stay that way.

The Pretence of an Unacknowledged Truth by stickleworting (28K, Explicit, Johnlock)  He’s decided to just be himself, cliché as it sounds. The lie about being Sherlock’s mate will be difficult enough to keep up, he’s not going to think up more of a charade regarding himself on top of that.  If he uses the wrong fork at dinner, fine. If someone calls him on it, he’ll just stab them with it. Job done.First attempt at Omegaverse because a very good friend of mine likes it, and I like my friend. She asked for: alpha!John/omega!Sherlock; age difference; pretend bondmates to meet Sherlock’s family; synthesised bond scent; and bonding in Sherlock’s old bedroom. I think I’m managing to cram it all in for you, sweetpea ;) No mpreg, I’m afraid. That was a stretch too far.