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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years ago

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Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything.

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim.

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

“All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

“Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

“Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

“Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

“It must be more than eighteen.”

“Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

“I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

“Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

“Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

“I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

“I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

“Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

“If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

“Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

“Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

“Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

“Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

“Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

“Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

“Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

“Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

“We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

“I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

“I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

“I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

“Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

“Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky. She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

“Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

“I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

“Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

“Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

“Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

“Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

“Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

“What is your name?”

“Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

“Good. When is your birthday?

“March 23th, 1939”

“Good, and who is the president?”

“Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man. She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

----------

Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

“What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

“Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

“It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

“Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

“I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

“He is; I know you’ll like him.”

“I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes. She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 5 years ago

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My Little Secret part 4

I tried to edit something on the original post and when it saved, it deleted all of the text! So I have to repost. Also, Tumblr won’t let me tag anything with “trigger warning” in it without raising red flags so please pay attention to the warning below!

Summary: You run in with Arthur again, though you face some trouble later. What happens next?

Warnings: This chapter contains some content that may be troubling or triggering for some, such as attempted assault of the sexual kind! Reader discretion is advised.

Thursday was an easy day for you; reserved for studying during the day before bartending at night. It’d been two days since the ghost hunt at Shady Belle, and you’d pushed most of the strange encounter out of your mind in favor for your academics. You’d successfully gotten through the majority of the day working on papers and brushing up on older material, compensating for your reluctance earlier in the week.

Still, though, something about what happened wrapped around your subconscious like tendrils. You couldn’t exactly shake it, or figure out why.

As day turned into evening, you got ready for your shift at the bar before leaving. With it being a Thursday, it was a decent crowd, though nothing compared to the weekends. A diverse mixture of all ages drinking and swaying with the music overhead.

An hour passed into your shift and you’d immersed yourself entirely in a conversation with one of the tipsy patrons, a man in his 50’s, a regular who always tipped you extra if you wore a low-cut shirt, which you happened to wear today. You were used to his glazed eyes wandering down to your cleavage, as well as a few lame pick-up lines that you always humored, but politely turned down at the end of the night.

“Yer so gorgeous,” the man complimented with a toothy grin. “I keep tellin ya, I’d treat you right if you were mine.”

You giggled slightly, giving him a polite smile as you poured him another drink. “I treat myself just fine, Tom.”

“Ah, wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?” He chuckled with a wink.

You silently handed him his next drink and swept your gaze over the bar in search of new customers. Your eyes landed on a new but familiar figure, surprise washing over you despite the small some of excitement that accompanied it.

“Arthur!” You greeted him.

His eyes met yours, and a small smile crossed his lips. “Evenin’, Y/N. Nice to see ya again.”

“You too,” you responded, and then quirked an eyebrow. “Ya know, for someone who doesn’t drink, you seem to like being in bars a lot.”

Arthur chuckled slightly. “Well, maybe I just like the company.”

Your cheeks burned slightly, though unsure of it was a compliment toward you, or if he meant the bar in general. Either way, you were glad the dim lights masked the color on your face.

“By the way, that man ain’t botherin’ you?” Arthur continued, tilting his head toward Tom just a few stools down.

“Oh, him?” You waved it off with a laugh. “He’s harmless. He likes to flirt, but he gives me good tips.”

Arthur hummed in response. “You ain’t uncomfortable with that?”

You shrugged. “Not at all, if showing off the goods a little means a little more pocket money, I’m fine with that.”

Arthur chuckled once without humor, though you could detect a small frown on those full lips. You were curious as to why. “So, uh, are you gonna order another drink to…smell?” You asked.

The subject change caused him to laugh again. “Nah, just here to relax. Nice change of scenery after spendin’ the last few nights in Saint Denis.”

“So you like being out in the country? Or just small university towns?”

He shrugged. “More or less. I prefer to be out west, though.”

“Is that where you’re from originally?” You asked.

“I spent a lot of my early life out there, so in a way.” He answered with a small smile.

That did explain a little more about himself. While working here and going to school, you met many people from everywhere within the United States. Most people from out west were either wannabe cowboys or hipsters, at least the ones that stood out to you. Arthur somehow seemed a little different, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Peculiar he was, especially from your first interaction with him. Though each encounter has become more pleasant, and you learned a little more about him each time.

You chatted with him for another moment before being pulled away with the arrival of more alcohol-thirsty patrons. Setting yourself back into drink making mode, a half hour had passed before you had a moment to breathe. By then you’d also noticed Arthur had left the bar, though unsure if he were elsewhere in the crowd or not.

The rest of the night continued smoothly, thankfully finishing your duties before clocking out at 12:30. As you left the building, you could hear some stragglers driving away or attempting to catch rides home.

The parking lot was fairly empty aside from a couple of cars sporadically parked here and there. As your stepped onto the asphalt, a chill ran down your spine, producing a shiver that nearly rattled your teeth. Why? It wasn’t cold out, though something felt…off. As if something was lurking within the shadows.

You shook your head, scolding yourself mentally. The Shady Belle experience had spooked you, but there was no reason for you to feel scared now. You’ve crossed this parking lot a hundred times.

“Silly.” You murmured to yourself as you started toward your car, though with a slightly hurried pace in your step.

Within a few feet of your car, you heard footsteps come up from the side. You blinked and spun around to come face to face with a drunken Tom, who awkwardly stumbled up to you.

“H-heeey, sweetheart.” Tom slurred, the smell of the whiskey still strong on his breath.

“Hi Tom,” you greeted warily. “Are you lost?”

“Naaah,” he hiccupped once, stepping even closer to you. “Listen…I wanna t-take you home with me.”

You stiffened, gripping your keys tighter. “Tom, I’ve told you before. No.” You responded politely yet firmly, hoping he’d understand in his inebriated state. “Get home safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere…without you.” He persisted, reaching out to brush his fingers along your arm.

You stepped back from his touch, turning yourself slightly away, though your keys were held in between your fingers. “Tom, you’re drunk. Please go home.” You feigned concern in your voice, though you held the unyielding wariness.

The hope that he’d laugh it off and walk away quickly diminished when his expression changed. Anger clear on his face as his hands, quick, had a vice grip on your upper arms. His body leaned against yours, sandwiching you between him and another car. Your gasp was audible, hopefully enough to catch someone’s attention.

“Tom!” You exclaimed, trying to wiggle free from him. He was surprisingly strong. “Let go of me!”

“I-I’m tired of playing these games with you, Y/N,” he growled. “I w-want you.”

Before you could respond, he forced his mouth to yours, forcing your lips open to invade. The alcohol on his tongue almost made you gag, and with quick thinking, you bit down on him.

A flash of hot copper exploded in your mouth, and Tom yelped and stepped back. Spitting the blood out, you didn’t hesitate to turn and race for your car. Though before you could even make it another few feet, strong hands yanked you back.

“You little…bitch!” You heard Tom snarl, ripping you back to him. You stumbled, struggling to keep your balance. Your scream was cut off when his palm slapped over your lips, and his arm wrapped tightly around you. “Yer comin’ home with me, right now!”

Your cries were muffled, scared out of your mind, you tried kicking at his shins. Your heels made contact, though with too little force to cause any real harm.

“I’m gonna punish you, little girl.” His whisper a hiss in your ear. Fear shot through you, your heart racing loud in your ears. You continuously tried to escape his grip but to no avail. You tried to force your lips open just a smidge to bite on his finger, yet his hold on your face was ridiculously strong.

You began to feel him drag you away, and you planted your feet to stand your ground. But this man was much stronger and heavier than you were, this rendering your effort fruitless. Your mind raced in panic, trying to think of anything else.

Why hasn’t anyone seen you yet?

Sharp pain entered the side of your head as a heavy blow. Your vision left immediately, engulfing you in darkness.

—-

The ground was rough, damp against your cheek. The sound of muffled struggle seemed to originate from above you. Shoes scuffling against the asphalt. Gasping and grunting.

Your eyes opened, your vision slowly coming to focus. You were on the parking lot still, laying awkwardly in a space between two cars.

Metal clattering caught your attention. You sat up and immediately regretted it as the pain in your head throbbed. You groaned and held your head, turning toward the sound.

A pocket knife lay just a few feet away, the silver blade shining in the moonlight. Further was Tom, pinned against one of the cars by…

Arthur?

You blinked in surprise. Where did he come from?

“L-Let go of me, asshole!” Tom coughed, his voice raspy. It only took you a second to see Arthur’s gloved hand wrapped around his neck.

“What possesses you to lay a hand on a woman like that?” Arthur growled. “What kinda man are you?”

Tom didn’t answer, only struggled to get free. Managing to get one hand free, his hand balled into a fist and swing out- only to be caught swiftly by Arthur. You heard a distinct crunch- and Tom let out a choked howl in pain. Your eyes widened.

Arthur leaned closer, almost as if he were about to caress him with his lips. His voice was low, though still loud enough to hear: “I catch you doin’ that again, I promise I’ll do a lot worse.” He then stepped back, releasing Tom as the older man crumpled to the ground, cradling his now broken hand.

Arthur’s attention then turned to you, his blue eyes bright and the anger still plain in his face. Your breath hitched; you’d never seen a man look so dangerous, nearly animalistic.

He approached you, and you automatically leaned back. Fear was still flowing like fire through your veins. He blinked, then paused, holding his hand out to you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Hesitantly, you reached out and took it. His skin felt cold underneath the worn leather of his fingerless glove. He pulled you to your feet with ease, though the rush caused you to sway. The throbbing on the side of your head worsened, the pain itself almost making you feel sick to your stomach.

Arthur steadied you, murmuring to you, “Where’s your car?”

Without speaking, you pointed to it, just a few parking spaces away. You didn’t realize how much you trembled until the keys jingled in your hand.

He plucked the keys from you and prompted you to walk forward. You did so, taking deep breaths as you kept your eyes forward, ignoring the whimpering and cursing of that vile man. Arthur’s hand rested on the small of your back, though very light to the touch.

He opened the passenger side door, hushing the protest that barely passed your lips. He helped you in before sliding in on the other side.

The movement of the car was almost dizzying. You closed your eyes, willing the spinning to go away. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, though it had been a while since you’d eaten. As the adrenaline wore off, your body felt drained.

“Where do you live?”

Keeping your eyes closed, you mumbled your answer. The pain began to dull, though the fatigue began to spread. With the gentle motion of the car, the hum of the engine and the cool air on your face. You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep when his voice gently roused you. You blinked awake to see your apartment complex.

He helped you inside, guiding you toward your door. You shuffled through the dimly lit hallway, staring at the numbers until you found yours. He even unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to walk in. You did so, stepping across the threshold into your apartment, the darkness waiting to engulf you. An overpowering feeling of helplessness racked you from head to toe.

The fear still remained.

An idea sprung in your mind. You turned around to face him. “Hey, can you stay with me?”

Arthur gave you a quizzical look.

“I just…don’t want to be alone,” you said sheepishly, tilting your head down in slight shame. You were a grown woman, afraid of something that couldn’t hurt you. But after that event, you needed at least some company. You didn’t want to bother your friends, knowing it was too late to even message them. “At least for a little bit.”

“You hardly even know me.” Arthur responded, though his voice was soft.

“I know,” you sighed. “It sounds silly, but- I’m scared still. I just need some company for my peace of mind. Doesn’t have to be the whole night, at least until I can fall asleep. If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” You met his gaze again, staring directly into those bright eyes.

Arthur let out a sigh, rubbing his slicked back sandy locks. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. Please, come in.” You stepped back and get around for the switch, flooding your living room with a bright light.

He stepped in after you, the black leather jacket and dark jeans stood stark against your white walls. He certainly looked out of place in your quaint little apartment. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, your mind fogging any greater rational thought. Your insides felt hollow, your mouth still had a faint tinge of blood lingering. The pain that radiated from your temple had lessened greatly, yet still remained as a dull ache that pulsed every once in a while.

Arthur stared at you expectantly, though gave no notion to urge you in any direction from here. His eyes instead grazed you up and down. “You may wanna clean yourself up.”

You blinked and looked down at yourself, the apparent stinging in your arms had become more prominent. Bloodied scrapes, bits of gravel and asphalt dirtied your skin. You pursed your lips, thankful Arthur came when he did. There was no telling what further damage could have been done. “Yeah…just, chill on the couch. I’ll take a shower.”

He nodded silently, feeling his gaze on you as you headed down the hall and closed yourself in the bathroom. Switching both the light and fan on, you finally got a good look of yourself.

Your hair was messy, the neat ponytail was half pulled loose with strands sticking out here and there. The light makeup you put on was smudged, lip gloss smeared all over your lips and chin, along with a small blood stain. A fresh scrape took the majority of your cheek, most likely where you’d landed on the asphalt. There was a slight swelling on your temple as well.

You recoiled at the sight, tears filling your eyes as you turned toward the shower. It could have been worse, you thought to yourself. Repeating the mantra as you unclothed and turned the water on. Within seconds it was hot, and you entered its comforting embrace.

You focused on cleaning yourself, slowly and tenderly scrubbing the filth away. The water and soap stung your wounds; though it was a reminder that you were safe now. The greater part of your mind still needed that convincing.

Taking longer than normal, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed over to the bedroom, only glancing down the hall to see what Arthur was up to. You hadn’t seen him, though the footsteps indicated he didn’t leave yet.

You dressed yourself in a camisole and pajama pants, the fabric soft and soothing against your skin. As you ran a comb through your hair, your thoughts began to wander again.

I’m gonna punish you, little girl.

Your stomach lurched painfully, the memory causing you to double over. You could still smell his breath, the vice grip he had on you, the way his voice overpowered you-

A knock on your door snapped you back to reality. “Y/N? You decent? May I come in?” Arthur’s muffled voice sounded from the other side.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you responded, “Y-yeah.”

He opened the door slowly, his eyes darting to your hunched figure. He frowned, stepping closer to you. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

“I…I just…” you huffed, trying to compose your thoughts. “Just trying to keep myself calm…”

Arthur nodded silently, sitting on the edge of your bed and he held something up to you: a steaming mug of tea. You gave him a look of confusion, and he replied, “I just made it. Help calm the nerves.”

Before you could say anything, he pressed the mug into your hands. Your fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic, and you peered into the liquid. It had a pungent, herby scent with a tinge of sweet, along with something else you couldn’t detect. Tea was something you’d get every once in a while before big tests and projects, though you weren’t sure if there had been any left over.

You took a small sip, the taste was unlike anything else. The bitterness of earthy leaves was slightly dulled by a tinge of sweet and tangy flavoring. The hot liquid hit your empty stomach, and almost immediately you began to feel more relaxed. The heat was soothing like the shower was. “Thanks.” You murmured, sipping some more.

He nodded in response. “What are ya gonna do?” he asked quietly.

You gave him a small frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“About ‘im,” Arthur clarified. “That asshole.”

“Oh.” You swallowed uncomfortably, drumming your fingers on the mug. “I…I’m not sure.”

“He’s a regular at that club, right?” When you nodded, Arthur continued. “Then tell your boss he ain’t welcome there anymore.”

It would be the right thing to do. But your boss would go the extra mile, trying to get the police involved. Word would get out what happened, and you’d be seen as a victim to feel sorry for. You pursed your lips in thought.

Arthur sensed your hesitation. “I know it ain’t the easiest thing to do, Y/N. Men like him ain’t worth keeping your mouth shut about. You gotta keep yourself safe.”

He was right. You nodded silently in agreement, knowing it would be an uncomfortable topic to bring up again. You took another drink, each sip seemingly calming you down more and more. “I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow night. And take the day off.”

“Good, you need a personal day.” Arthur patted your shoulder.

Somehow his touch was soothing as well. God, what else would have happened if Arthur didn’t show up when he did? Quickly, you diverted those thoughts away. You were home and safe, albeit a little injured. You sighed slightly and turned to look at him fully, seeing the content emotion in his face. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you so much.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

Though you didn’t mind the sudden nickname, the way his voice rumbled was…something else. Placing the mug down, you reached out and hugged him tightly. He flinched a little in response, though relaxed after a moment and lightly patted your back.

He was cold, how was he so cold? You slightly breathed in the scent of his jacket, he smelled like rain and nature with a tiny hint of gasoline. It was evident he was a man that spent a lot of time outside, and he smelled good.

You pulled away before the embrace became a little too long, and a large yawn escaped your mouth. The tea definitely had done its job to calm you, picking it up to finish off the rest. The warmth spread through your insides, allowing a serene feeling to overcome you.

“I’ll let you sleep.” Arthur murmured, standing up and stepping away from your bed.

The last dregs of fear had been washed away, your mind able to relax now. You nodded and scooted back, sliding yourself under the covers. As your head rested against the cool pillow, your eyelids felt heavy. “Thanks again, Arthur,” you said through another yawn. “You’re such a great guy…”

The last thing you saw was his lips forming into a half smile.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #vampire au

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makeupbychio · 6 years ago

Text

Lost & Found // Chapter 1.

pictures are not mine (and all the pictures in this chapter were taken here in my country,Chile...boys looking fine)

Chapter 1. Lost & Found

pairing : Calum Hood x Foreign female oc

warnings : emotions,i think(?)

word count : 4.8k

summary : she’s a dancer with a normal life in her country located at the end of the world, who would believe that even this things happens far away? that’s where Calum and she were found but people could be lost and found multiple times.

notes : hi babies,chapter 1 of the “Lost & Found” serie,

I know that is a foreign female oc and i still wrote everything in english (and just a few words in spanish) lol but you got the point.

Enjoy and as english is not my first language and it’s my first fic feel more than welcome to talk to me about opinions,suggestions,ideas,etc. thank you , love you xx.

fic serie is inspired by Lost & Found by Jorja Smith (listen to the song in the link to understand/enjoy chapter 1)

I never thought I would ever find

Something so assured but so fine (but so fine)

I'd fantasize that you'd come around

Focus and your dreams turn to reality

Rosie gets close to the boy that was already located in a table between the bar and the stage, although she doesn’t like prejudices, she can feels that the boy is not from the country so it’s better that she attend him because if the boy speaks in english Rosie is the only waitress in the bar who speaks english.

The boy nervously and with difficulty says in spanish “hola una cerveza , por favor”

She immediately laughs at him saying in english “that’s very sweet from you but don’t worry,I speaks english”

The blond boy returning to his first language a lit bit embarrassed “oh so it was a waste of time to come all the way here learning how to say ‘beer’ in spanish”

“It wasn’t a waste because you learned four words in spanish” she says.

“You know what? I changed my mind because looking at this amazing place,I’m not going to order a beer that’s a bit boring” he says.

“Then what are you going to order?” Rosie asks.

Can I trust you? you choose, bring me something typical of this country, a drink and a dish...surprise me” he says changing his attitude less embarrassed.

“Okay,I’ll be right back” Rosie says going to the kitchen to ask the order of the boy who looks like an actor from Grease.

Meanwhile the boy focuses all his attention on each musician of the band and especially the talent of the percussionists and internally trying to understand the rhythm of the unknown music to him.

Rosie came back to the boy’s table with his order, “so I brought you a drink called ‘terremoto’ that in english means ‘earthquake’ and well, the name it’s kinda obvious”

The boy’s surprised “wow, not scared at all with the name, if I get drunk with one of these you have to call my friends”

She laughs at the exaggerated comment “trust me, you need at least three of those to get drunk but if you want I can bring you a ‘piscola’ that is only pisco with coca cola”

“Oh no no,I definitely want to try this, challenge accepted.And what about the dish? he says.

“Well I brought you my favorite that is called ‘pastel de choclo’ which consists…” she was interrupted.

By a ring’s cell phone but he didn’t answer when he saw the name so Rosie keeps talking but doesn’t concentrate because the cell phone starts to ring again so she says “you should answer, it could be your girlfriend or boyfriend”

“Oh it’s not my girlfriends, it’s my mom but I liked that comment #diversity” he says.

“With more reason you should answer! that’s so rude” she answers.

“She has called me to tell me the same thing since I arrived south america and I told her that I’m going to ask for the person I’m trying to find” he says defending himself.

Rosie doesn’t want to look like a meddler but she likes to help people and also she was curious.

“If you need help I can help you to find this person, by the way my name is Rosie” she says offering her hand.

“Oh really? thank you! I’m Ashton and your name is cute” he takes her hand to shake. “Well my mom has been telling me to visit this bar because she knows one of the owners she met in Australia because this bar she told me that it’s here,Australia and other countries of South America” Ashton says.

“yeah I know, cool right? but there’s only one owner, the other two are partners that help the owner” she says.

“Got it,I’m trying to find Mario, if you could tell me if he’s here in this country or in one of the rest” he says hopefully.

“Mario?! your mom met Mario in Australia?! omg he’s actually here, I’m going to tell him” Rosie says surprised running to where her boss is sitting near the stage watching the band.

“Don’t dance today,Mario?” Rosie says softly to Mario.

Mario, an old man of 77 years old, his heart is bigger than the planet.A fan of football and sports in general, tango, journalism (the real one),loves drink mate and games and his family is his biggest treasure.

“Oh no darling, you know this old man doesn’t dance like before...what happened? I see you so exalted” Mario answers.

“Actually, someone is looking for you” she says.

“Oh I hope it’s not my friend Will again,I won fairly in our domino game” Rosie knew very well that Mario won most of the games because he cheated but she knew him enough so she just let him talk.Rosie helps Mario to stand up from his chair then she takes him by the arm.

When they arrive at the table where Ashton is, who was drinking and eating his order,Mario recognizes him immediately.

“Ashton?...” Mario asks with emotion walking slowly to the boy who stops drinking and eating to stand up and meet the old man.

“Yes sir, it’s me, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my mother told me to visit your bar and look for you sir” Ashton says.

“How are you son? wait, let’s move to the bar to talk...Rosie takes the dishes to the bar please” Mario says.

All set in the bar, they keep talking.

“Wow I can’t believe how big you are” Mario says.

“What? my mom is the one who met you, not me” Ashton says confused.

“Oh no son,I did get to know you too, you were a few months old to remember.I’m going to sum it up...I’ve been a journalist all my life but I also dedicated my life to tango that’s why is my favorite when the band play it at the bar...the point is that when I dared to open this bar here, then I did it in Argentina, in Brazil was opened by my son who lives there and one in Australia was opened by my grandson who lives there too with his girlfriend, so they are my partners who run those bars, also in Australia and Europe are plenty of chilean people living there because they had to leave Chile during the dictatorship or other reasons...So when I went to Australia to the inauguration of the bar your mother visited the bar looking for a job and I hired her because she was going through difficult economic times and I could not help her knowing that she had a newborn son, you.That’s how I met you and your mother because I stayed a couple of months to be near my grandson” Mario says.

Ashton is speechless, he didn’t expect that story since his mother never told him but he’s grateful to find out now.

“Now all makes sense why the dish that Rosie brought me was familiar to me, there were days when my mom came from work with food from the bar to give it to me.And makes sense why she told me that if I found you to thank you and told me to have a good time at the bar because sir let me tell you the bar is fantastic” Ashton says.

“It was what I had to do, it was the correct thing to do and I hope to contact her again, the last thing I knew was that you were a drummer, you dedicated yourself to music” Mario says.

They say we’re way too young to get the job done.

Are we really too young to be having so much fun?

Rosie and Theo did 1+1.Australian, drummer, musician...they clicked on their mind and now they know why Ashton’s face was so familiar to them.

“Yes,I’m in a band, we just played today here and we have a few days off before traveling to Argentina” Ashton confirms.

Rosie carefully intrudes into the conversation.

“Mario you never told me this story or that you went to the opening in Australia” she says.

“I didn’t tell you because you don’t believe several of my stories” Mario points at her.

“Ah yes, the one when you assisted to an olympic games when Hitler was alive” she defends herself.

“Darling,I’m a sports journalist! I have proofs of that” Mario says.

Ashton is laughing at the conversation between the owner and the waitress. “wow sir everything is unbelievable,I suppose you know the rest of my family’s story so I can only thank you”

“Just call me Mario, son.Now, why don’t you cheer up and show us a little bit of your talent?” Mario says.

“I don’t want to bother, besides, the band is incredible” Ashton says.

“Don’t say that!, ‘Los Dominós’ will be more than happy to have you on stage and you can learn some south american music and let me tell you we have enough percussion instruments” Mario tries to convince him and Ashton accepted. “Rosie takes Ashton to the stage and tell the band, please”

“Okay, do you want me to help you to stand up and get close to the stage again?” Rosie asks but she was interrupted by Ashton.

“Oh let me help him, leave it to me” he says.Rosie mutters thanks to Ashton and she goes to the stage when the band finished playing the song they were playing, she speaks to the leader of the band, Pablo, who Mario always makes fun of him because he looks like Lenny Kravitz.

So Rosie told him the story and Pablo says “Of course he can! you know that we love to welcome people and meet colleagues”

Rosie waves at Ashton to take the stage while Ashton is leaving Mario in his chair.When she gets off the stage, she sits next to Mario to watch and enjoy the show.

Pablo greets Ashton “hi kiddo, so you are a musician too, eh? Is okay if I give you the bongos?”

“yes! hell yeah” Ashton answers.

“Okay, so I’ll show you the tempo of the next song” Pablo says.After Pablo shows Ashton the tempo he takes the microphone to introduce Ashton.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a special guest, a new friend, his name is Ashton who is also a musician, he comes from...Hey kiddo, where are you from?”

“I’m from Australia” Ashton answers.

“So everyone a round of applause for our australian friend! Enjoy the next song, groove!” When the song starts makes people immediately lose themselves again in the groove.

Ashton is little bit confused because this type of music is new for him so it takes him the first seconds to catch the rhythm with the bongos and goes along with the band.

He has a huge smile and feels so inspired seeing the atmosphere that is formed and the energy that people is radiating.

Ashton is watching them dancing, singing, having fun and clapping almost in slow motion, so he saves that moment in his mind to treasure it forever and get inspiration for maybe a next song for his band’s album, who knows?

People look so unworried as if every bad thing that each individual could be living was leave it outside the door of the bar and they just enjoy.

Ashton is almost overwhelmed by how kind everyone has been here and everything he found out, so far.

After two songs,Ashton gets off the stage but without first thanking the band, and ‘Los Dominós’ asks for a picture with him and Ashton tells them to tag him so later he can share it on instagram.

“That was amazing!” Mario and Rosie say at the same time which makes Ashton laugh.

“Thanks to you, that was so fun” Ashton says and he already was sweating, so he takes the sweat off his forehead.

Mario looks at his watch and makes a sign to the band.

“Okay, we have one more song left because the bar it’s going to close, enjoy it and see you tomorrow, goodnight!” Pablo says.

“Damn it’s almost midnight ,but I want to keep talking” Ashton says noticing that it’s close time.

“Stay all the time you want son, no problem.We leave when everything is clean so we have a couple of hours more” Mario says.

While Ashton was helping again Mario to go back to the bar to keep talking,Rosie and Theo don’t waste time to clean and order everything fast as they can.

“By the way, the food and the drink were delicious,I want a couple of everything here to eat in United States” Ashton says with a little laugh to Mario.

“Or you can buy the ingredients and cook them in United States, or you’ll have to come back” Mario says patting Ashton’s shoulder.

“Or you can open the bar in United States” Ashton says with a winner look.

“Good idea to be honest” Rosie screams from the kitchen and returning to the bar to talk.

“See,Rosie agrees with me, give me five” Ashton says while he and Rosie high five.”But to be serious,I’m going to come back Mario”

Mario laughs at the fast mutual understanding Ashton and Rosie have in less than 1 day like if they were friends for years. “Okay kids, if you let me I’m going to see if the chef is ready to close the kitchen,I’ll be right back”.

Rosie’s cell phone starts to ring that she receives a message, well actually more than one.

“Wow I think that your boyfriend or girlfriend is really trying to tell you something” Ashton takes Rosie’s words from before.

She just laughs noticing that,”It’s my best friend,Cami.I thought she was on a date with her boyfriend.And I don’t have a boyfriend, he broke up with me because I quit my career” Rosie says without taking her eyes off her phone’s screen.

“Such an asshole!” Ashton looks if Mario it’s not around because he said a bad word. “What did you study before? and you’re just working now?” he says with a curious face resting his elbows and interlacing his fingers.

“I studied architecture for one year and now I’m in my third year studying dance, what I really love and I work here” she says a little bit nervous because most of people don’t like the idea of her dancing studies.

“You are a dancer?! that’s so cool!” Ashton says excited like a kid.

“Not yet officially,I still have two semesters left but I already work with some national artists so yeah it’s cool” she says happy talking about what she loves.

“And why I didn’t see you dancing tonight?” Ashton says disappointed.

“Because I’m working as a waitress not as a dancer, duh.Trust me,I would have been dancing there but I need the money because my parents didn’t like the idea that I decide to be a dancer so I’m paying my career” she says with an attitude. “But don’t talk about me, that’s kinda boring.Let’s talk about you...with Theo we discovered who you are”

“Really? I thought that people didn’t notice when we arrived or left a place” Ashton says.

“I don’t know if you’re overreacting or being sarcastic” she laughs.

Now there is nobody left in the bar so Theo closes the door and puts the ‘close’ sign outside.

Mario is back in the conversation but with a smile as if he had an idea “So Ashton, you told me you have a few days off..” Ashtons nods at him. “What if Rosie makes you and your band a tour outside the capital, because I don’t think you prefer to stay in your hotel all the days, that is so boring”

Ashton interrupts him “Mario I don’t want to bother and also I think that Rosie has her own things to do”

“Yeah Mario, you told me to work tomorrow because Chris had his niece’s baptism and I have to cover his shift” she says.

“Don’t worry darling,I would call Theo and I’ll pay him more.And also you can go with Cami and go there where you like to go” Mario says to Rosie. “It’s a nice place with mountains, lakes, away from this pollution and it’s just a few minutes from here” now he’s talking to Ashton trying to convince him.

“Okay,I have to be honest, that sounds cool.I’ll go if you want of course” Ashton directs to Rosie.

“I’m in.Do you think your band would like the idea?” Rosie says to him.

“I go with you,I don’t care if they prefer to stay in the hotel” Ashton says.

They were interrupted by someone who knocks desperately at the door of the bar and Theo says in spanish “we’re closed!” but this person keeps knocking as this person didn’t what Theo said.

Mario gives Theo a gesture to open the door.That’s when a tanned boy with brown eyes and dark hair and moles on his face, he also seemed taken out from ‘Grease’ with his style, he was with a worried face.

“Calum? What are you doing here buddy?” Ashton says surprised to see his friend there.

The boy called Calum with relief “Ashton here you are! Thank God” he just keeps talking as if there were nobody else “Do you know what time it is? I went down to the hotel restaurant because I was hungry and I thought you were there when nobody answered in your room and your phone.And then the receptionist told me that you had asked about this place.We were worried with Michael and Luke”

“Calum breathe please” Ashton says gesturing to his friend with his hand to calm down. “I came to visit a family’s friend”

For the first time Calum return to Earth and notices that he wasn’t alone.He turns his head and the first person he saw is Rosie, he doesn’t even notice Mario and Theo so he thinks that Ashton went to visit this girl. Bowing to his friend he says “now I understand why you’ve been here for hours...God is a woman for sure”

He said that so fast that Ashton even when was gesturing with his hand to him to shut up, it was too late.”Calum they speak english too”

Calum throws a deadly look at Ashton and says ‘FUCK’ to himself.

Mario breaks the ice “Ashton came to visit me, my name is Mario and I’m Ashton family’s friend” with a protective position behind Rosie, Mario puts his hands on Rosie’s shoulders “and she’s my granddaughter”

“Your granddaughter?!” Ashtons says shocked and Calum doesn’t understand why his friend is so surprised. “Mario why didn’t you tell me? this is amazing”

“She’s like my partner in crime since she was born,I think that from me she got the passion for dancing, which makes me proud but at the same time I know that my daughter, her mother, doesn’t like the idea that now she is a dancer” Mario says looking at his granddaughter.

Calum is trying to understand everything because it’s too much information in less than 5 minutes.But now all his attention is in the girl in front of him and can’t believe that she is a dancer.

“If I had known that before,I would have asked for a dance tonight between grandfather and granddaughter” Ashton says with a pout and throwing hands to exaggerate.

“On another occasion” Mario says.

Rosie speaks for the first time since Calum goes into the bar “yeah,Mario is my grandfather and hi my name is Rosie” extending her hand to Calum, who is still ashamed but he takes her hand. “Ashton give me your number to coordinate about tomorrow”

“What? What is going to happen tomorrow?” Calum says confused.

“I will tell you at the hotel” Ashton says.

Rosie and Ashton exchange numbers.

“I’m going to call Cami to know if she is going tomorrow, she left a lot of messages” after a couple of seconds “She didn’t pick up her phone, maybe she’s busy”

“For sure she’s going to go tomorrow, she’s your partner in crime” Mario says calming her.

“Well I think we’re going back to the hotel because it’s late and Rosie when you can send me all the info for tomorrow” Ashtons points at her. “Mario thank you again for everything,I can tell by looking at your bar and what you have done for my family you are an important person in Chile and for the culture and the journalism.I’m going to be back here,I promise, now more that I know what you did for my family” Ashton says grateful.

Away from the rest Mario answers to Ashton “You’re always welcome here with your family, son.I’m glad to see the man you’ve become, have fun tomorrow and please take care of Rosie, she’s my only granddaughter who lives in this country”

“Don’t worry” they hug each other. “Okay Cal, let’s go...bye Mario,Rosie and Theo” and Calum says goodbye too.

Once outside the bar,Ashton and Calum walk back to the hotel in silence through the empty, slightly illuminated streets of the city.

In the elevator Calum speaks for the first time “that was embarrassing what I said, you could have warned me”

“I would, but I wasn’t expecting THAT reaction because you never react like that” Ashton defends himself. “I mean, that was very impulsive from you”

Calum’s left thinking about it, what his friend is telling him because Ashton is right.What makes him to react like that? Why now?

In another hand,Michael hears the elevator and goes into the hallway in search of his friends. And he can hear the last part of what Ashton said. “Hi guys, what was very impulsive?”

“Nothing” Calum says changing the topic of the conversation and leading to Luke’s room.And Michael looks at his friend muttering ‘what happened?’ and Ashton gestures him to keep walking.

The four of them reunited in Luke’s room,Ashton says “I have an offer for us”

That’s when Ashton tells about the bar, Mario, what he planned with Rosie and her friend.Everyone agrees to go and have fun.

Now is Michael who does 1+1 in his mind, “Oh so you were talking about this girl in the elevator”

“Yes,I made myself look like a creepy in front of this girl that Ashton met” Calum says a little bit pissed off.

Ashton told the story to his friends about Calum’s reaction when he saw Rosie.

Luke is laughing till the point he can’t breathe “GOD IS A WOMAN?! really Cal?”

Michael is surprised of his friend “wow Cal, that’s new”

“Yeah yeah, thanks for your support” Calum says with sarcasm. “Night y’all, see you tomorrow” But now in his room he doesn’t know why the situation keeps spinning in his head, because it wasn’t a big deal, or maybe it was? ‘I don’t know’ he says to himself.It doesn’t even matter because in a couple of days he’s never going to see this girl again.

Ashton goes to sleep after Rosie send to him all the information.

---

Finally Rosie is at her home, and her dog is the first one to receive her and of course because everyone was sleeping at that hour of the night.She’s tired walking upstairs to her room and she wasn’t expecting to see her best friend,Cami in her room with two spoons and a huge ice cream to share.Something happened because that was their thing to deal with sadness.

Cami, a young woman, a couple of months younger than Rosie, Cami has brown skin, dark brown hair and hazel eyes.She wasn’t fat, her body type was just thick and she loves that about her body.If she didn’t say that she’s chilean, people would think that she is caribbean because of her tanned skin and her braids (that Rosie always tells her that she should live with her natural hair because it’s so beautiful, but Cami was insecure about her afro)

Cami has a particular way to be that makes her so special and Rosie’s best friend.They always joke about that they were like opposite poles in relation of their physical aspects, it was because there is a chilean candy called ‘Tuyo’ that was part of the joke.

They were friends since they were 10 years old and they have in common their friendship, their sense of humor, their joy of enjoying life and future plans in common.

“Hi bestie, what happened? Ice cream alert?” Rosie says softly closing her bedroom door.

Cami can’t hold anymore the tears, she gives Rosie a spoon to start eat and talk. “Matty broke up with me”

“What? Why? When?” Rosie has too many questions.

“He said that he doesn’t have more time for our relation since he’s in university and that was all he cares about and also he said that my body changes since I gained weight” Cami cries.

“You wait me here,I’m going to his house and show him that nobody disrespect my best friend” now Rosie is walking out her room so furious ‘yo lo mato’ she thinks but before she can put her hoodie again her friend stops her.

“Can I stay here tonight? so we can cry, watch rom-coms and eat ice cream all night and the whole weekend”. Cami says with a pout.

“Mmm the truth is that I have better plans for the weekend for us and I’m sure that this is going to make you feel better” Rosie says with a smirk.So she tells Cami about who is Ashton and what she planned with him and his band, and at the end she adds Calum’s comment when he saw her.

“Yas mami, you know that means he’s into you.So you better do your thing and your magic girl that you do with those eyes” Cami says hyping her best friend.

“You’re crazy,I’m not going to do anything.Besides they’re just going to be here a couple of days so that means I’m never going to see him again in my life except for Ashton because Mario made him part of the family already” Rosie says.

“I’m just saying, then you’re going to tell me ‘Cami you were right’.And you know why? because I’m always right, and you’re going to see again this boy” Cami says with her bossy attitude.

Rosie sends Ashton the info for tomorrow.

After the ice cream disappears,Rosie and Cami went to sleep even when Cami goes to sleep with a broken heart but Rosie knows that her plans are going to make her feel better.

…

In the morning Michael wakes up Calum and Calum lets him know that he looks like a little child and looks like he was injected with sugar.

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cami-chats · 5 years ago

Text

A Family Man

Chapter One (of 2)

Fandom: Charmed, Supernatural (yes it’s a crossover)

Pairings: Piper Halliwell/Dean Winchester

Warnings: None, except maybe some Leo bashing bc really what tf was that

Piper was obviously pregnant. Her other kid was around a year old, so she was almost certainly still with the father, whoever that might be. She didn't wear a wedding ring, but some people didn't, and besides, Dean had heard that pregnancy made your fingers swell up so it was possible that she did usually wear her ring, she just couldn't right now. Anyways, the point was that she wasn't interested in anyone-- let alone Dean-- but there was no harm in looking. Especially when she was that gorgeous. It wasn't a model sort of beauty like Dean used to shoot for when he was hunting and dropping by bars for some diversion, but she was undoubtedly gorgeous.

With the yellow eyed demon gone and Sam back at college, Dean needed to do something with his life, and living on the run with a string of crimes following him wasn't as appealing as it used to be. Working at a nightclub wasn't exactly settling down, but at least he had a legitimate work history now. Besides, P3 was great, and Piper hadn't blinked at giving him his first several paychecks in cash before he had enough to open a bank account.

Funny as it was to think about, he was bonafide now. Sam would bust out laughing if he could see him now. Then again, Sam was a can of worms he didn't want to mess with right now. Or any time soon. He unlocked the door and started down the stairs, hesitating in one of his steps when he saw Piper sitting at the bar, head hung at whatever she was thinking about.

"Piper? What are you doing here so early?"

She startled, but in the next moment, she seemed perfectly at ease, turning around to smile at him. "Hey Dean. I was-" she gestured vaguely, "talking to Chris."

"Chris is here?" Dean asked hopefully. Chris was always happy to see him, and he was probably the best friend Dean had right now.

"He just left."

"Damn." At Piper's bemused look, he added, "I like him. Guy's my only friend around here."

"Huh." She had her head cocked slightly, like she was putting together a puzzle that Dean couldn't see.

"Uh... something wrong with that?" he asked, a little nervous. Chris felt like his best connection to the normal world, but Piper was his boss; if she fired him, he was screwed, and he wasn’t sure his friendship with Chris was good enough to risk his life for.

"No, of course not. It's just, Chris doesn't get along with... people. Not usually anyways."

"Must mean I'm special," he joked, smirking.

Piper seemed to take him seriously though, her expression thoughtful. "Must be. You want some help setting up?" she offered, already getting out of her seat.

"You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You know, between you and my family, I'm liable to blow something up if I keep getting side-lined like this."

Dean shrugged. "It's your club, do what you want."

Piper raised an eyebrow, trying to project snootiness though she was obviously amused. "I will."

After a minute, Piper put on some music to pump through the speakers. Weird as it might sound, Dean had the best prep shift ever. He didn't really think about it through the dancing-along's and mouthing-the-word's party they had on the fly. "It's been a while since I've had this much fun," Piper said.

"Me too, "he admitted. And what fun he had had in the past was often interspersed with hunts that went to hell, so the memories were sour to him. Even his time with Sam hadn’t been like this, with Sam always trying to keep them going so he could get back to his ‘real’ life. Any time Dean had tried to make light of the situation, Sam had glared at him or gotten all moody.

"With Leo and everything," she started to explain before trailing off as her happy mood faltered.

"Who's Leo?"

"Ex-husband," she said, making a face. She ran a hand over her swelling stomach, and Dean could imagine what that 'everything' entailed. Learning that she was single had no victory since she was clearly left in a bad spot by it.

"Sounds like an asshole," he said flatly. Say what you want about John Winchester, but at least he'd loved his wife.

"You don't know anything about him," Piper said, but she was holding back laughter.

"Going from your reaction, I'm guessing he left you. Right?"

Still looking amused, she nodded.

Dean shrugged. "Then he's an asshole."

Piper laughed, looking lighter for it. "It's not actually that simple, but... thanks. I can't really talk to anyone else about it. I mean, I could, but I don't want to unload to my sisters about it. They'd try to make it better, and he'd be around for a bit, and then he'd leave again to work for the 'greater good'."

"Bastard sounds like my dad," Dean said. Oh John had been obsessed with revenge, but he'd made the decision to sacrifice his sons' childhoods so that other families wouldn't suffer the way he had. The way 'they' had suffered was how he phrased it, of course. Dean had thought about it a lot since he and Sammy went their different ways after ganking the monster, and he still didn't know how he felt about it, because it wasn’t just their childhoods that had been messed with, it was their entire lives.

"Sounds complicated."

Dean snorted. "That ain't the half of it." He shook off the topic and tried a smile. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem. It's nice to feel useful for once."

"He must be crazy to leave you behind," Dean muttered, not really meaning to.

The way Piper looked at him though, it was clear that she'd heard.

Dean cleared his throat, blushing. God it had been so long since he'd blushed that it only served to make him more nervous. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a charged moment where they looked at each other.

It wasn't actually a surprise in the moment that it happened, but leading up to it confused him. Piper was shorter than him by half a foot, so she had to lean up and pull his face down to meet her in order to reach. She was kissing him, and there was none of the vibrant electricity all his past relationships had demanded. This was soft and comfortable, and he leaned down further so she wasn't straining. His hands went to her hips automatically, and he could just barely feel the swell of her stomach against his palms.

"I um," Piper licked her lips as they stopped. "I hope that wasn't inappropriate of me."

"I'm pretty sure I was the one that hit on you."

"Still, I'm your boss. If you're worried this might affect your job-"

"It won't." Dean kissed her again, and for an instant she kissed him back.

She pulled back abruptly, taking a few steps to give him space. "I have a child. I'm about to have another."

"I know. Wyatt's a great kid. I'd like-" Dean stopped, rubbed his hand over his jaw and tried again. "If you'd let me, I think I could be decent at the whole family thing. If that's what you want."

"It's complicated," she said with a sad smile. She wanted to give in, that much was clear, but with (almost) two children, she had more at stake than her heart.

"What isn't? I just-" Dean swallowed, "I think this could work if we tried."

"My life is... it's too complicated, Dean. I can't drag you into that."

Sensing that her mind was made up, Dean nodded. "Right." He looked away, feeling hot and embarrassed. "If that's how you feel then-." He nodded again. "I uh, should go unlock the door for the crew, they'll be here soon."

"Sounds good," Piper said, and he ignored the strain in her voice since she'd been nice enough to not point out the one in his.

He was in a bit of a mood for the rest of the night, but he was pretty sure no one noticed. It's not like he blamed Piper for her choice-- she did have children and her closely-knit family to consider amongst whatever other family drama they had-- but it was still depressing. He hadn't thought he had a chance for so long, and then for one great moment, he'd had it. Even better, Piper was the one that had kissed him, not the other way around. This is what real life was like though right? Relationships didn't get out of the starting gate, and his biggest worry was whether or not the pizza place down the road from his apartment would be open by the time he got home.

He got to leave promptly when the actual concert started, so he made it back with plenty of time to grab a pizza. Absolutely delicious, cheap, dripping grease pizza. He felt better just thinking about it. He didn't want to subject Baby's seat to that though, so he parked in the apartment's garage and walked the half-block over.

As soon as he was out the door, he folded a piece in half and shoved it in his mouth, juggling the box for a moment as he closed it and got everything back in order. Pizza couldn't fix everything, but that's where pie came in, to fix the other half. He didn't have pie though, so this would have to do for tonight.

He turned on the tv and polished off the rest of the box. Then he realized that he was still in jeans and changed into sleep pants, shucking off his shirt and throwing it in the laundry hamper-- because he had a laundry hamper now, that was the kind of turn his life had taken. He sat back on the couch and wondered if he should even attempt sleeping yet. It wasn't too late, and he was used to staying up for a few more hours when he was closing at P3. Laying in bed might be pointless and only serve to make it harder to get to sleep.

A knock came at the door, and he frowned. A few people knew where he lived, but it's not like they ever visited. Chances were it was someone who had the wrong apartment, a common problem with half the numbers peeled or missing from the doors. He looked through the peephole out of habit, then frowned at what he saw: Piper. Why was Piper at his doorstep?

He unhooked the chain and unlocked the door, opening it slowly. "Piper? What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping we could talk. About earlier."

Dean's frown deepened, even as he opened the door wider to let her in. "I thought we said everything we needed to."

"Not really." She ran a hand through her hair as she walked in, the long strands seamlessly falling into their new place.

He closed the door but didn't lock it, not wanting her to feel confined.

"Listen," she said, turning to him. She hesitated, eyes trailing over his bare torso. Her cheeks pinked, but she brought her eyes back up to his face like it didn't happen. "My family requires a lot from me, and from anyone I'm dating. Leo-- my ex-husband-- he knew about the details from the start so I didn't have to worry about it, and it just seems like every time I find someone new, they can't handle it."

"I think you'd be surprised at how much I can take." He crossed his arms over his chest, and Piper's eyes flickered down automatically.

"I'd love to find out, but it. It's too big a risk."

"You said that earlier, Piper," he said, not judging. "We already talked about this, why are you here?"

She hesitated, and he understood: she wanted to give in, but she needed to be convinced, for him to take the first step.

He swallowed, wondering if this was the right decision but knowing he was going to try it anyways. "You know, it doesn't have to be that serious. We can... try it on. See if it goes anywhere, and deal with the problems as they come."

"I have a kid," she reminded him, but it was obvious now that she felt that she needed to remind him, not that it was a denial.

"That doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"Pregnant ladies don't really get to have fun if it's not about the pregnancy."

"Says who?" Dean made a show of looking around the apartment, then stepped closer so they were in the same space. "I don't see anyone here but you and me."

He started to lean down, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. Plenty of time to say 'actually you know what I was wrong, sorry'. But she didn't. She tilted her head up, smiling slightly when he bumped their noses together teasingly before pressing their lips together. It shouldn't have been a life-changing moment, but the way they molded together felt like something he'd been missing his whole life. One of her hands came up to help hold him in place, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. Her other hand went up to his arm, curving to the skin easily as he put his hand in the middle of her back and pulled her closer.

It had been a long time since Dean kissed someone for so long his lips started to feel sore, but here it was, happening to him as a grown-ass adult. He had an ache in his back from leaning down for so long, but he didn't want to stop. He felt absolutely desperate, his cock hard and straining against his boxer-briefs, and his best comfort was that Piper didn't look much better. Her pupils were blown wide, and her cheeks were stained red with want. Both of their lips were swollen from kissing for so long. Taking a chance, Dean asked, "Do you want to come to my room?"

"Yes," she said immediately, before he had time to worry that he was pushing for too much. It was a small place, so they were in his room a few seconds later.

"Can I take this off?" Dean asked, sliding his hands under her shirt on the sides. In response, she lifted her arms, so Dean picked up the edges and pulled it up. His eyes roved over her skin, and he followed it with his hands a moment later when he realized he could. "You're gorgeous," he breathed. He kissed her again, fingers playing with the clasp on her bra in question.

She gave his arms a squeeze in answer, and he flicked his fingers, undoing it. Piper stepped back and dropped it on the ground, then pushed her pants past her hips and climbed on his bed. She lay there, head propped up on pillows and legs slightly spread showing trimmed pubic hair and a glistening entrance.

"So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, pushing his pants and underwear down in one go. He knew it would be smarter to grab a condom and lube now, but he wanted to kiss her again and nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

Piper groaned, one of her legs curving over Dean in an instinctual bid to keep him there. "Dean," she gasped. "Please."

"Sorry," he said quickly, giving her a quick peck. "Didn't mean to tease. Just can't stop kissing you." He kissed her cheek three times in rapid succession, causing her to giggle. He grinned, giving her one last kiss before rolling off her and rifling through the nightstand. He opened a condom packet, then hesitated before putting it on. "You sure you want this?"

Instead of making some sort of joke about how ready she was, she grinned at him. She had a few crooked teeth, and in the light of the streetlamps, it was obvious she was pregnant. Her hair was half stuck under her back and half splayed out on his cheap sheets. Dean had never wanted someone more. "I'm sure," she said. "Come on and show me how good our relationship can be."

He grinned back at her. "I can do that, no problem." He rolled on the condom, following it with a little lube just to be safe. Once he was back between her legs, she bent her knees to make the angle better. He slid inside slowly, knowing that he could go faster but wanting to take his time. Piper was warm and wet, and he wanted this to last forever at the same time he wanted to fuck her hard and give both of them the completion they were craving.

Dean rocked into her, responding to each of her gasps of pleasure with a moan of his own. It was slow and sweet, building up so leisurely that he was almost surprised when he came, grinding their hips together as she clutched at his shoulders.

"God, Dean, that was," she trailed off with an appreciative laugh.

Feeling very proud of himself, he smiled, giving her another kiss. "Yeah." Laying on top of her was lots of fun for him, but certainly less for her, so he rolled to the side, carefully taking the condom off so he wouldn't make a mess.

"Mm." Her eyes closed, and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep just as she was. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. It's just right over there," he said unnecessarily, pointing in its direction.

"Thanks." She pushed herself up and went over. After she peed, she walked back over and sat on the bed.

"You can stay if you want." He'd prefer it that way, of course, but they'd agreed that this didn't have to be serious.

Piper thought it over, then laid down. "Maybe for a little bit." She stretched her arms with a satisfied groan, and Dean took the chance to use the bathroom himself and get cleaned up. He went back to the living room and locked the door.

He'd expected for it to be awkward when he got back because that's what he was used to, but there was a comfortable air in the room when he got under the covers with her. Getting to sleep had always been easier after sex, and this time was no exception.

It was a rude awakening when a phone started ringing, echoing in the sparsely decorated room. "What the-" He reached for his on the nightstand automatically, but it was silent.

Piper groaned, throwing the covers off of her and rifling through her pant's pockets on the ground until she found it. She flicked it open with an annoyed, "What?" as she sat back on the bed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is something wrong? Was there an attack?" Pause. "Then why-?" She blew out a breath. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I forgot to call. No I'll be home in a little bit." She rolled her eyes as she got back up and started picking up her clothes. "Don't come get me, I drove. I swear to god Paige, you worry more than Chris. Yeah yeah, I love you too." She hung up and rubbed her eyes.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah, my family's just worried. I forgot to tell them I wouldn't be by until late."

Dean checked his clock. They hadn't been asleep more than an hour, which explained why he felt so stupidly tired right now. He ran a hand over his face, then sat up. He grabbed a pair of underwear and slid them on, then helped Piper gather the rest of her clothes.

"Thanks," she said, then again when she was at the door. She pulled him down for another kiss. "I had a great time. See you around?"

"Definitely. Have a safe drive."

They smiled at each other again, and she left, hair softly tousled in a way that made Dean's heart ache.

#charmed #spn #piper halliwell #dean winchester #fanfic #my writing

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holdenmgrudges · 7 years ago

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Chapter 1 - Newbsies

Hello, tumblrinas and tumblrones, it is I, Holden M. Grudges. Today I am venturing into the world of Alternate Universe Fanfiction. The fandom being Newsies. The reason for this is my recent obsession with the live musical and reading other AU fics. So I give you the first chapter in my new project, which I will hopefully finish this time. This AU is set in a high school where David and his twin sister Sarah (from the 1992 movie) are new students. Ships include but are not limited to: Javid, Newsbians, Sprace and even some Jackcrutchie (why wasn't this ship named Crack?). So go ahead and click the read more if you're interested. I'm gonna try to make this a weekly thing, but I make no promises. Also, it's my birthday so hbd to me. A really great gift would be an invitation to AO3 so I can post this on there, but I assume any readers I can get will also be on Tumblr. Anyway, enjoy, and thank you for reading.

Or read on AO3 if you prefer.

David Jacobs didn’t like this. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. His parents had made the decision to move for better paying jobs. “We need the money,” they said. “You’ll be going to college soon.” Truth was, David didn’t even know if he wanted to go to college. Sure, he was the studious type, and his face was usually hidden behind a book, but it was mostly to make his parents proud. It was hardly for fun. Although it did give him a good reason to decline invitations to parties and other social gatherings he didn’t want to attend.

Except David did want to attend. He just felt very awkward around people. He didn’t have many friends before he moved, and the ones he did weren’t close. He’d never felt like he belonged, and now that they’d moved, he knew he’d belong even less. Starting over was one thing. Starting over when you felt like you hadn’t even started at your last town was the worst.

So no, David didn’t like this. He straight up hated it. It was his first day of school, and he wasn’t looking forward to any of it. His head filled with thoughts of everything bad that could happen. Like his locker not opening. Or getting lost and being late to class, where everyone would stare at him as he came in. Walking down the lunch tables, trying to pick where to sit while everyone spread out so he wouldn’t sit with them.

“It’s all in your head,” his twin sister, Sarah, said to him. “Just relax. You’ll be fine.” David tried, but he just kept thinking too much. He knew it was easy for Sarah. She just had to walk through the hallways and catch someone’s eye. She wasn’t the most popular girl, but she was very beautiful and that made her popular with the boys. Though as far as David knew, she’d never gone out with any of them. He figured it was because his parents were so overprotective of her, but Sarah had other reasons.

Sarah Jacobs was okay with this. She embraced change. Especially when everything in her hometown bored her. The boys, the girls, the monotonousness. This new town wasn’t any bigger, but it was definitely more diverse. And it was new, which was the important part. Unlike David, Sarah had big dreams for college. She knew she wanted out of the small town life. “You keep your big life in a small town,” she’d tell her friends. “Give me a small life in the big city.” Where she wanted to go, she didn’t know. She just knew she wanted to get out.

Luckily, their new town was sort of an in-between. It was more of a big town or a small city. Not exactly where Sarah wanted to end up, but fine for right now. At least it was a step in the right direction. In two years time she’d kiss goodbye to this town and move on to bigger and better things.

So yes, Sarah was okay with this. She thought that maybe she’d get less attention. She was known for being a party girl, though she didn’t much like to party. She just knew there was nothing else to do. So she put on this charismatic persona while deep inside, she just wanted to not be noticed.

So on her first day of school, she walked down the hall with David, a bright smile on her face, not staring at anyone in particular. As they reached the main office, a girl came out of the principal’s office looking frustrated. Sarah noticed her brown curls and thought she was pretty. And then she looked into the girl’s brown eyes and saw her staring back. The girl looked embarrassed and then quickly rushed past into the hallway.

For a second, Sarah thought of following her, but she was brought back to reality by David, who was trying to get her attention. “Sarah, are you gonna ask?”

It took her a second to remember what they were doing there, and she rolled her eyes as she did. She walked over to the main desk where a woman wearing glasses looked up at her. A plaque on the desk read Miss Hannah. “Hi,” Sarah said. “I was wondering if we could have a couple of maps of the school? We’re new.” She wouldn’t have asked if not for David and his fear of getting lost on the first day. Miss Hannah gave them each a map, and off they went to homeroom, which they had together.

The day didn’t go as bad as David thought. But it also wasn’t perfect.

During PE class, they had to do a lap around the school track and he fell a bit behind. Although they were only required to do one lap, one of his other classmates showed off and did an extra lap, telling David to “keep up, kid,” as he passed him by. David couldn’t help but be a little offended, especially since the guy looked younger than him.

Then, between classes, he accidentally bumped into a group of students. They looked like they were bodyguarding the guy in the middle. He was shorter than the rest, but had massive arms, and gave David a look that could kill. David quickly apologized and he could swear he heard some of the guys growl. The guy in the middle nodded at him before leading the rest of the group away.

At lunch, he didn’t bother finding a table to sit at. Instead, he chose a bench and listened to music on his phone. He looked around, wishing someone, anyone, would walk up and talk to him. But no one did.

After lunch, he had art class. David wasn’t an artist, but it was a required class and he figured art was an elective where he didn’t have to talk to anyone. The teacher taught them some basics on vanishing points and asked them to start on a drawing that would become one of their big projects.

David had an idea to sketch his home town, or as close as he could get it to look like his home town, hoping no one was looking at his bad drawing. Of course, he couldn’t help but glance at other people’s work to see what they were drawing.

Sitting next to him was a boy who looked older and tougher. Not the type of guy he’d expect in an art class. When he looked at the guy’s artwork, however, David was amazed. The guy wasn’t drawing anything with a vanishing point. He was drawing a portrait of a pretty girl with curls. It seemed to be out of memory, as there wasn’t any reference picture near him. David couldn’t help but stare a little too long. Long enough for the guy to notice. “You know I’m not doing the same assignment, right?” the guy asked.

David was caught off guard, forgetting how to speak for a second. “Oh uh…”

“I’m one of the advance students,” the guy continued. “I did your assignment two years ago. Probably still have it somewhere. I could show you if you’d like.”

This guy was being so friendly and David didn’t know what to do except give him a quick smile. “Uh, no thanks. I think I’d rather handle this on my own.” He wanted to tell him that seeing the guy’s artwork would only make him think his own was horrible in comparison.

“Fair enough, but if you want my help, I’m Jack.”

“I’m Dave.” No, wait. “David.”

“Dave or David? I don’t wanna call you by the wrong name, now.”

David couldn’t help but think that Dave did sound cooler than David, so why not make it his official nickname? “Dave…” Or did that sound like he was trying too hard to be cool? “...Id.”

“Dave...id?” Jack looked as confused as David seemed, but he shrugged it off and went back to his drawing. “I’ll call you Davey, if that’s cool.”

Was the name Davey cool? It sounded cool when it was coming from Jack. And yet, David couldn’t help but think that Jack found him weird now. “Yeah, that’s cool.” Jack gave him a smile between pencil strokes. The guy was trying hard to be friendly, the least David could do was be friendly back. “And so is your drawing. It’s...amazing.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, laughing a little. “I’ll be glad when it’s done. She’s my ex so it’s kinda weird I’m still drawing her. We were together when I started it, and then we broke up and I got stuck having to finish this project…”

“I’m sorry,” David said, feeling like he created some kind of awkward conversation.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jack said, going back to the drawing. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea for me. But I’ll probably give her the drawing when I’m done with it. As like a peace offering or something. Make things less awkward when we see each other.” There was a slight pause before Jack seemed to remember something. “Speaking of,” he said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a flyer. “If you’re an ally or even part of the community, we always welcome new members.” He handed David the flyer, which read, LGBTQ+ Club.

David’s eyes widened a bit, both surprised and excited that this school had a club like this. There wasn’t one at his old school, and when he asked Sarah to start one, she refused because she knew he wouldn’t attend.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked.

“No, no...This is really awesome,” David answered, finally finding his voice.

“Glad you think so. Not everyone does,” Jack said with a slight scowl. “So will we see you there? We meet during lunch on Wednesdays. No need to wear pink.”

David laughed at the joke and then nodded. “Yeah, count me in.” And for once, David actually intended on going.

The rest of the class went by pretty fast. Jack and Davey mostly focused on their work, while now and again Jack asked him about his interests. Music, movies, tv, etc. David tried to keep his answers short enough so as not to go off on a rant, yet long enough to keep Jack interested. He knew it was only their first day meeting, and class wasn’t even an hour long, but David sensed that this could actually turn into a real friendship.

Sarah’s day had gone well too, though for some reason she couldn’t get the girl from the main office out of her mind. The girl had looked so troubled and Sarah was stuck wondering what the problem was. But everywhere she looked, she couldn’t find her. She tried focusing on her classes to get her mind off the girl. Of course, as soon as the bell ran and she was back out in the hallway, she was back at it.

Unluckily, a couple of boys, who looked like they could be brothers, started hitting on Sarah in the hallway. She tried to ignore them but they followed her to her last class, biology, stepping in front of the doorway before she could get in. This was the one thing boys did that she would never get used to. She was about to yell at the two boys until another boy interrupted.

“Really, Delancys? You think stopping the poor girl from getting to class is gonna make her wanna follow you home? Get outta the way.” The Delancys stared at the boy for a second, but moved when he made a threatening movement toward them. Sarah rolled her eyes at the boys and walked into the classroom.

As she took her seat, the boy followed and sat behind her. “You’re not even gonna say thanks?” he asked.

Sarah turned to stare at him and smiled. “Sorry, I forgot. Thanks for the help. Though, I probably could’ve handled them.”

“Those are the Delancys. Maybe on their own they can be handled, but together you never know what they can do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if they try to pick me up with cheesy lines again,” she said with a laugh.

“You saying cheesy pickup lines are harmless?”

“I’m saying no one actually falls for them. And the only boys that use them are the ones that know they’re gonna get shot down.”

“So you’re saying that if I came up to you and said...Roses are red, violets are blue, there’s nothing in the world more prettier than you...I’d be asking to get shot down?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sarah said with a laugh.

“Well, what I’m saying is that there’ve been assault rumors about them. So a simple rejection might not be enough.”

“Gotcha,” she replied, rethinking her opinions on this boy. “Thank you, sincerely.” She paused, considering telling him her name. After a second, she decided to do so. “I’m Sarah.”

“Jack,” the boy said. They smiled at each other before Sarah turned around to pay attention to the teacher.

A while later, they had to get in pairs, and Jack tapped on Sarah’s shoulder. She turned to him and with a mischievous smile he spoke. “We have great chemistry, let’s do some biology.”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh and look embarrassed at the fact that she did. Jack raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to respond. Finally, she nodded and replied, “All right, I’ll be your partner, Jack.”

For the rest of class, Jack tried to get Sarah to laugh at some other pickup lines, while she tried to get him to focus on their schoolwork. Still, she thought he was fun and even though she just met him, she could see herself going out on a date with him.

After school, Jack Kelly practically skipped to his motorcycle, leaning on it while he waited for his best friend to get there. He was feeling a type of way. The same way he’d felt when he’d first met Katherine Plumber, the first time he’d met Racetrack Higgins, and probably even the first time he’d met Spot Conlon, though he couldn’t be sure as that was a long time ago. But he knew the feeling and it brought him joy to feel that way again. His head was so far up in the clouds, he didn’t hear the hobble of a boot and a crutch behind him.

“Hey, Jack…” he heard a voice say.

“Hmm…” Jack mumbled, still not fully paying attention.

“Jaaaaaa-ack!” the voice sang loudly, snapping him out of it.

Jack turned to see Crutchie standing there looking a bit worried.

“Uh-oh. It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack replied, mounting the motorcycle.

Crutchie rolled his eyes and got on the motorcycle, behind him. “Sure, sure...pretend like you don’t know what I mean.” He and Jack put their helmets on and then Crutchie turned his crutch sideways, slipping it under Jack’s arm, but holding onto it so that Jack could drive safely. He wrapped his free arm around Jack’s abdomen and held on tightly. Jack then started the bike. They were so used to doing this, it was second nature.

When they got home, they took the elevator up to the top floor, where they lived. They usually parted ways, but on several occasions, like when one of them needed to talk, they’d go up to the roof. It was one of those days.

“Alright,” Jack started. “I think I do know what you’re talking about.”

Crutchie lifted an eyebrow and then gave Jack a big smile. He didn’t say another word, but headed up the stairs that led to the roof. The first few times, he’d needed help doing this, but after practicing a lot on his own, going up the stairs was pretty easy. He remembered Jack’s impressed face the first time he’d gone up by himself and strived to get that reaction out of him all the time.

They sat down on a couple of deck chairs once they got to the rooftop, Jack a bit flustered, trying to come up with the words to tell Crutchie. He didn’t know why he didn’t want to tell him. Crutchie had been there for more serious talks. He’d also been there for the talks about Katherine and Racetrack. It was nothing new, and yet it was. Every time felt like it was new.

“So, tell me about this person you’ve met,” Crutchie started, having heard this story many times, and expecting to hear it many more.

“Crutchie…” Jack thought maybe he was embarrassed because he’d had this conversation so many times. But what was one more? “I’ve met someone.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Crutchie just wanted to know how similar or different this person was to the last.

“I just...I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere but...this person…is beautiful. And funny.”

“What’s their name?”

“It doesn’t matter.” And then Jack realized why he didn’t want to say anything. Yes, it was because it was a familiar conversation. Every time he started crushing on someone, he knew it would only be a matter of time before things ended badly. Like with Katherine. He missed her, but knew it wouldn’t work out. And with Racetrack. He could have fallen for him, but it wasn’t meant to be. And with Spot...Well, that was never going to go well. “Nothing can happen.”

Crutchie looked up in surprise, wondering if Jack was finally starting to mature and realize he didn’t have to date everyone he crossed paths with. “Why not?”

“Because I ruin everything. I’m a relationship ruiner.”

“You haven’t ruined ours,” Crutchie suggested, turning away when he realized what he’d said.

“No, I’m talking about relationships, not friendships. You know I have loads of friends. You and me...we’re like brothers. I love you in a different way.”

Crutchie gave Jack a smile and hugged him, though on the inside he felt his heart break a little. But that was also nothing new.

Jack wrapped his arm around Crutchie, leaning his head on the other boy’s. “I think it’s time I just take a break from dating and...focus on just being friends. It’s worked with Race and I can see it working with Katherine...You know, once she forgives me.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Crutchie stated. “Focus on you. If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”

“Amen,” Jack said, his thoughts still on the special someone he had met that day.

#javid #sprace #newsbians #jackcrutchie #fanfiction #au fanfiction #newsies #newsies fanfiction #ao3 invite #jack kelly #crutchie morris #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #david jacobs #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #jojo de la guerra

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itsworn · 8 years ago

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The Tallest and Shortest-Serving HOT ROD Editor: Pat Ganahl

In our occasional look back at HOT ROD editors, we bring you the editor with the distinction of holding that position for the least amount of time: nine months. “Too Tall” Pat Ganahl is the first to admit he knew his days were probably numbered when he took the position. It wasn’t from a lack of talent or experience, but maybe a lack of tolerance for office politics. Internal politics can get nasty, and unfortunately, Pat held reign during a time when HOT ROD overlords outnumbered the editorial side.

His nemesis was John Dianna, who on his first day as HOT ROD publisher announced he would make the staff work 110 percent. Pat immediately replied, “Gee, that sounds good to me, I’d like to slow down about 40 percent.”

Pat had a master’s degree in English literature after first pursuing mechanical engineering, so he was more than qualified when first venturing into the publishing fringes leading to editorship of Street Rodder magazine, barely a year old at the time. He had been offered a job at HOT ROD by then-editor Terry Cook, but needed to stay in Orange County so wife Anna could finish her doctorate at the University of California, Irvine. Commuting to HOT ROD’s Sunset Strip digs was deemed too far.

Pat stayed with Street Rodder for five years. Says Pat, “I didn’t want to be a hot rod writer, I wanted to be a real writer, so I ended up getting a job at Sunset magazine as an outdoor travel editor.” He also did freelance stories for the likes of Guitar Player and Sports Illustrated, among others. “By then, I had already done a couple of technical books for SA Design—one on nitrous oxide and the second on Ford engines—and they sold well.”

A chance encounter with HOT ROD Editor Lenny Emanuelson on the starting line at the 1983 Winternationals at Pomona became prescient. Lenny asked Pat why he was working for a “housewives” magazine when he was the best hot rod writer he knew? Pat responded, “Well, if that’s how you feel, I want to work for HOT ROD, and I want your job.” Lenny said, “OK.”

Things were changing at Petersen Publishing, HOT ROD’s mothership. Longtime VP Dick Day was retiring, and there was a plan for HOT ROD Publisher Harry Hibler to replace Day, with Lenny jumping from the editor’s chair to publisher. Now their plan was complete, with Pat set to become HOT ROD’s next editor. He started in May 1983 as a staff editor, waiting for the changing of the guard.

As a staffer, Pat had fun doing a supercharger shootout, teaming with Gray Baskerville to cover the fledgling nostalgia drag racing efforts taking place in northern California, and generally doing all of the cool stuff you’ve come to love from HOT ROD. “I did a story called ‘Re-evolution,’ which was preserving, restoring and re-running vintage dragsters,” Pat says. “Garlits was putting his museum together and Art Chrisman had restored his Hustler dragster. The idea was to find an old dragster, restore it, and take it out and run it down the track. It was something the reader could do that was affordable and fun.”

Another assignment was HOT ROD’s “Flashback ’57,” a 1957 Chevy to be given away at the HOT ROD Supernationals to some lucky participant. “I did the Flashback ’57, and all of the corporate attorneys got involved, plus Dianna liked to make rules,” Pat says. “He told us we couldn’t do any mechanical modifications if we were giving it away. Here we are HOT ROD magazine and we can’t give away a modified hot rod. Everything on the car had to be stock mechanically, but I could do body mods, so we did it as an early 1960s mild custom/street rod. It had a dual-quad, 270hp, 283ci, T10 four-speed, posi rear end, and it even had stock repro seat covers.”

Then, before the planned musical-chair plan could commence, “John Dianna came waltzing through the door,” Pat says. Dianna was a polarizing figure at Petersen, with some loving him—others, not so much. “It didn’t take long before Leonard threw up his hands and said, ‘I’m out of here, I can’t work for this guy.’” Pat was next in line.

“There were so many stock cars on the covers of the nine issues I did, and it was Dianna choosing them. I was editor, but he was picking the covers,” Pat says. “The things I got into the magazine were the things I got in edgewise.”

Oct. 1986 was Pat’s first issue after Lenny vacated. Says Pat, “I had a staff of five people besides me that included Gray Baskerville, John Baechtel, Marlan Davis, and then two guys we called ‘the kids’: Todd Howard and Scott Dahlquist. What was really fun was that I was never a manager of people before, so you can imagine what it was like managing such a diverse group, especially Gray and Marlan. Having staff meetings, corralling their ideas and then putting it in a magazine every month was fun.

“The first cover that was my own was ‘Low-Buck Specials.’ I put three homebuilt cars on the cover. I got called into John’s office and was dressed down because there was an old guy at the gas pump and I didn’t have some sexy woman instead.” That same issue is well remembered for Pat’s “Caddy Hack” article. “The whole idea was Newton’s laws of physics. Without spending a dime on the car other than cutoff blades, by taking weight out, it will go faster and faster with the same amount of horsepower.” Variations on this theme have been tried numerous times in HOT ROD since.

And, of course, the infamous swimsuit issue followed. “The point was that every April we did some kind of spoof or April Fools’ thing; in fact, we made fun of John Dianna the year before,” Pat says. At the time, no swimsuit issue existed besides Sports Illustrated, so this was fertile ground to try something a little different and hopefully increase newsstand sales, too. “I went back to the earliest issues of HOT ROD when they had ‘Parts With Appeal’ with the girls holding parts in swimsuits next to a car,” Pat says. “Back then a lot of photographers got women in bathing suits to pose next to cars they shot. Why were these girls in bathing suits next to cars—they weren’t at the beach? So that was the irony and spoof. Dianna OK’d it and we got cover comps made.”

Every six months, editors had two-year planning meetings with Petersen President Fred Waingrow. Says Pat, “We’d have to go to Waingrow’s office with Dianna sitting to Waingrow’s left and circulation guy Nigel Heaton at his right. There were a bunch of suits telling us what we needed to do to our magazine to make it sell better on the newsstand. Waingrow would go through an issue and yea or nay what he saw. As editor, I had these boards made up as color comps—drawings of upcoming covers so they could be approved. One was a girl in a polka-dot bikini standing by the car with the blurb ‘First and Last Swimsuit Issue?’ In these meetings, if Waingrow thumbed through the pages and turned a page back everyone would freeze and go, ‘Oh my God!’ So I show this cover comp and start to explain it and Waingrow goes, ‘What?’ with this flabbergasted response. Dianna literally jumped up on his chair—he stood on top of his chair and said, ‘Mr Waingrow, this is the first I’ve heard of this—I don’t know anything about this.’ So Dianna disavows the whole thing. I explained that it was going to be in fun and it was spoofing the old Parts With Appeal, that they would be professional photos with each girl dressed in bathing suits like you’d see at the beach in California, not salacious. We would credit the hair stylist, whose bathing suit she was wearing, things like that.”

Without getting too far into the swamp, Waingrow did approve it and the very rocky road leading to Pat’s swimsuit issue wound its way to completion. If you thought this was the reason Pat was fired from his editorship and sent back to staff editor purgatory, you’d be wrong. That happened a few days after the swimsuit issue was complete. Dianna wanted to replace Pat’s managing editor with someone else, which Pat felt was arbitrary and without warrant. This was in the days before human resources, so there was no advocate to take up personnel issues. Pat pushed back, telling Dianna if he didn’t like what he was doing, to find another editor. The next day, Pat was no longer editor of HOT ROD.

Says Pat, “The big thing was the swimsuit issue hadn’t come out yet, and of course, when it did it was a huge success. It takes a few months to get the sales figures once it’s off sale, so it wasn’t until months later they found the swimsuit issue sold 100,000 more copies on the newsstand. That was almost $300,000 in Mr. Petersen’s pocket—it was total profit. And guess who took all of the credit for it? John Dianna.”

Pat stayed with HOT ROD until mid-1988 when he was chosen by former HOT ROD Editor Lee Kelley to bring back Rod & Custom magazine. “The whole thing was totally bootstrapped, and we brought it back successfully,” Pat says. “At six months, we were within 5 percent of Street Rodder’s circulation. I did R&C for the next five years, although doing it by myself almost killed me.” From there he continued writing occasionally for HOT ROD, R&C, as well as a new magazine called Rodder’s Journal. More books followed—20 in all—but it has only been in the last few months that Pat has done something he never thought he could do. “I’m retired,” he says. “I’ve done a lot of good stuff, I’m proud of what I did, and I think it was pretty well done, creative, and spoke to the audience, so I’m done.”

Throughout his career, Pat has built a succession of cars, including restoring his historic Iacono dragster, building a two-time March Meet Top Fuel–winning dragster with his hero Gene Adams and Don Enriquez, and a myriad of street cars that include a 1932 Chevy coupe, 1932 Ford roadster, 1952 and 1953 Chevys, his 1956 Ford F-100 pickup he uses to haul his race cars, and more. “Building cars was my hobby and writing about them was my work,” Pat says. “I’ve always been building a hot rod. Part of my success is I was building while I was writing about it. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to work on my own cars more. Now I look at retirement as not only can I get the house finished but I can get some car projects done.”

His current project is what he calls his “Road Rod.” Says Pat, “I’ve never had a hot rod for more than to drive around town, even though I’ve driven my roadster to Pleasanton several times with the 1940 trans and 1934 rear end. My 1948 Chevy had the original 4:11 gears in it, with a 235ci straight-six with every piece of speed equipment you could put on it and a stock 1948 Chevy transmission. I put 14 transmissions, six engines, and four rear ends in that car during the time I had it. I used to drive around with a spare transmission, regulator, and generator in the trunk, and I’ve changed axles by the side of the road—I went through all of this with that car.”

So now he’s building a cruiser from a very nice 1933 Ford Fordor sedan, something with enough accouterments so both he and Anna can drive it anytime, anywhere. “I don’t care how fast it is, I want air conditioning, an electric fan, Vega steering, disc brakes, single AFB, 9-inch rear end, adjustable coilovers. It will be practical, comfortable, with Toyota Camry seats with lumbar support, and we’ll leave the hood shut so you don’t see the air-conditioning hoses and all of that,” he says.

Why does he do all this? “Not only do I love HOT ROD magazine, but also I love hot rodding as an American culture. If you’re a hot rodder, you’re a do-it-yourselfer, you’re creative, you’re inventive, and hopefully somewhat artistic. The idea about building a hot rod is to take something not worth a whole lot, take what you can afford, and make it better. As Petersen first said, ‘To modify it for improved looks or performance.’ I’ll go further by saying a real hot rodder can do anything. It gives you the confidence to modify anything and make it personal and better. Plus, there’re all of the stories and characters. I was able to do the book on Von Dutch and then the book on Ed Roth, and these were real characters.”

Life and retirement is good for Pat Ganahl, and we’re sure you’ll get a chance to see him somewhere down the road in his black and bitchin’ 1933 Fordor with his wife Anna, a backseat full of luggage, and a cool story to tell.

The post The Tallest and Shortest-Serving HOT ROD Editor: Pat Ganahl appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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