#I want to slurp him up like macaroni cheese

[eyeballdrawer]

Mmm the cheese boy.

[lady-amethyst18]

The Best Known Treatment

Leo was walking home from school. The teachers noticed he wasn't feeling well and sent him to the nurse, to which the nurse told him to go home. Despite being warm out today, Leo felt cold, so he wore a jacket and a scarf around his neck. His throat felt like it was on fire, and he felt tired. He lost his voice too. He would never understand why his parents sent him to school today when he wasn't feeling his best.

He felt another coughing fit coming. He hunched over and covered his mouth with his fist as he coughed. It felt like he was getting punched in the gut every time he coughed. When the coughing fit was over, he pulled out a packet of tissues he brought with him. He pulled one out and spat out the phlegm he coughed up into the material. There were no trashcans nearby, so he had no choice but to stuff the tissue into his other pocket. He just wanted to go home and go to sleep in his warm comfy bed at this point. He didn't want to do anything else.

His stomach was growling. He didn't eat breakfast and he refused to eat his lunch. Every time he swallowed, it felt prickly going down his throat. He would rather go hungry than have to endure the pain again. Just a couple blocks away from his home now, he noticed one of the tims were wandering the streets. Which meant that Balan was nearby. Curiosity took over, and he turned a corner to see. Sure enough, the theater was just across the way. The fuzzball turned around to see if Leo was still following it. But he stopped in place. "I would like to say hello, but I don't feel well... Maybe I'll drop by another time." He said in his head. His throat hurt too much for him to say anything out loud. He started walking away until his stomach gurgled again. The door to the theater opened, and Leo heard a warm and inviting voice. "I heard that." It said.

Balan was at the door, smiling as usual. "I thought you'd be out here. Why don't you come inside, Leo? You sound awfully hungry." He gestured for the boy to come inside. What he really wanted was to just go home and lie down. But the maestro's look of generosity was too much for him. So he decided to walk inside.

The warmth of the theater felt refreshing, even though it was warm outside anyway. Leo took off his jacket but kept the scarf on. He still felt mildly chilled. "I can tell you've had a rough day. Long day at school, I assume?" Balan tried striking up a conversation with the boy. Leo shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how to respond as his throat hurt too much. "You're out relatively early. Is there a special occasion going on? If it is, is it that special for you to skip lunch?" He continued to ask questions only to have no answer. At that point, Balan was starting to get confused and concerned. He turned around and knelt down to his level. "Leo? What's the matter? Why aren't you talking to me?" Leo opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue while pointing at his gaping maw. He also rubbed his throat in discomfort, trying to tell Balan what was wrong.

It finally hit him. "Oh! I get it now! Your throat hurts." He exclaimed. Leo nodded in response. "Well, it's no wonder you haven't eaten anything. It's painful going down, isn't it? That would also explain why you're out of school early." Leo nodded again. Balan pulled him closer as he held him under his arm. "Aw, I'm sorry, Leo. I know how much sore throat sucks. Have you tried gargling warm saltwater?" He recommended. Leo stuck out his tongue and shook his face in disgust. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's very helpful, in fact! Have you ever even tried?" Leo looked away from Balan's gaze and just barely shrugged his shoulders. He guessed the boy never tried.

"I'm sure it will make you feel a bit better, Leo. Come on, let's give it a try." He guided Leo to the bathroom, where he grabbed a small cup and filled it with warm water. With a snap of his fingers, a salt shaker appeared in his hand and sprinkled it into the water while grabbing a little stirrer to mix up the solution. "Here you go, Leo. Try it." Said Balan as he offered the glass to him. Leo covered his mouth and shook his head while holding out his hand. He didn't want to drink it. "Come on now, my boy. It's not like you're swallowing it. You just gargle with it and spit it back out when you're done. Sure, it might not taste great, but it'll help relieve some of the pain. I promise." Leo still refused to do it.

Looks like Leo was one of those picky patients that refused to take their medicine. Balan tried to think of a way to get him to take the solution. "Tell you what, Leo." He started. "If you take this solution just this once, I'll give you a treat in the end. Be it a popsicle or hot chocolate. How does that sound?" Balan found Leo's weakness when he mentioned hot chocolate. He remembered his mom saying something about how warm liquids often soothed a sore throat. Plus, how could he turn down hot chocolate? Leo sighed heavily and took the glass. "Very good," Balan said. "I'll go see if there's anything in the kitchen for you to eat. Preferably something warm and soft. Does that sound good to you?" Leo nodded his head. He forgot he was starving as he hasn't eaten anything recently.

One of the tims hopped up on the table, chirping. "Make sure he actually takes it, alright?" Balan told the critter. It nodded in response and started looking at Leo. "Meet me in the dining room when you're done. Ok? You just have to do it once." Leo rolled his eyes but gave a thumbs up anyway. With that, Balan disappeared.

Leo looked at the glass of warm saltwater. The thought of him drinking saltwater disgusted him. But he wanted this sore throat to go away. Besides, Balan never steered him wrong, right? He took a deep breath a took a large slurp from the glass. He gargled as he was supposed to and spat it out into the sink at the end. He admitted it wasn't as bad as he thought it was. The warm water felt lubricating almost, despite it being salty. Oddly enough, it did help. Leo cleared his throat as he was trying to get his voice back. "One... Two... One... Two." He counted. The closest he could get to speaking was at a whisper. Not much progress, but at least he could talk somewhat again.

Leo looked for the dining room around the theater. The tim that was with him guided him through the hallways to find the right room. When Leo finally arrived, Balan brought in a jar with some golden, gooey, viscous liquid inside. "Ah, there you are, Leo. Did you gargle with the solution?" Leo tried to muster whatever words could come out. "Yeah. I did." He whispered. "Sure sounds like you did. Now before you get your treat, I want you to do one more thing for me." He opened the jar and scooped out the liquid with a spoon. "What's that? Cough syrup?" Leo asked, his voice still raspy and sore. Balan chuckled. "Somewhat, yes. It's just honey. It's perfect for sore throat. Just take a spoonful of this, and it will help make your throat less scratchy." He knelt down to Leo's level with the spoonful of honey in his hand. With no other choice, Leo opened his mouth and Balan spoonfed him the honey. After gargling the saltwater solution, it felt good to eat something sweet.

Eating the honey made his throat feel a little better. It felt a little less prickly when he swallowed, and he could raise his voice a tiny bit louder. "There now. How do you feel?' Balan asked. Leo cleared his throat. "That does help. Thanks." Before he could get another word in, Balan stuck a thermometer in Leo's mouth and grabbed a stethoscope to listen to his chest. "Tell me, Leo, when did you start feeling bad?" He asked. Although the sudden checkup caught him by surprise, he answered anyway. "Uh... This morning." He replied. "How do you think you caught this?" Balan took a magnifying glass and looked through his eyes. "I think I caught it from my parents. One of my dad's co-workers got him sick. And then my mom got sick, and now I'm sick. They sent me to school anyway. But the nurse told me to go home." "It didn't really hit you until later in the day, did it?" Leo cocked his head to the side, a sign of saying yes.

Balan took the thermometer out of Leo's mouth and examined it. "Well, the good news is you don't have a fever. Seems to me you've got a touch of laryngitis. But don't worry. It's easily treated." He assured. "Yeah, Balan. This brings me to the question." Leo spoke up. "How did you know saltwater and honey help a sore throat?" Balan chuckled again. "Oh, Leo, I'm no stranger to a sore throat. I've had it before." He paused. "... Uh... Grant it, I can't really remember the last time I've had it, but I know it's a pain in the rear. Plus, I have a friend who's an expert in home remedies. They told me that honey can work wonders for laryngitis." Leo smiled at him.

His stomach growled again, and Balan laughed in response. "Oh my, we can't forget about that, can we? Come, sit down at the table. Do you like macaroni and cheese?" He asked. Leo smiled and nodded his head. It was both warm and soft and wouldn't feel as prickly when going down his throat. He was about to sit at the table until his nose felt itchy. As if the sore throat wasn't bad enough, now he felt the sneezing coming back. He reached into his pocket for his packet of tissues only to find them empty. He used them all up after spitting up so much phlegm at school. Leo held a finger to his nose, trying to prevent the sneeze. Noticing this, Balan pulled out a handkerchief from his sleeve and held it out in front of Leo. "Here, my boy. Sneeze into this." He said. Leo pulled his finger away from his nose and flung himself forward into the rag as he sneezed. "ACHOO!"

"Bless you." Balan said, wiping Leo's nose. Leo took the handkerchief from Balan to clean himself up. "Thanks. Sorry about that. I'll wash it when I get home." He said. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Leo. I have plenty more. You can keep that one if you like." Balan gently said. Leo shrugged and stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket. Finally, he sat at the table.

One of Balan's clones came in with the pot of mac and cheese. It ladled some into both bowls and handed Leo a mug that was topped with whipped cream. "This is your reward for gargling with the saltwater, Leo. I kept my end of the bargain, and now you get your treat. I know how much you like hot chocolate. Plus, this will help with your sore throat." Balan said. Leo licked his lips, practically salivating over the beverage. He took the mug and immediately began guzzling it down. Balan couldn't help but laugh as Leo chugged the drink. "Does that feel better?" He asked. Leo stopped chugging his drink and sighed in delight. "Much, thank you. I didn't know how much I needed that." Balan smiled. "That's good to hear. Now eat up before it gets cold. It's a good idea to eat a little when you're feeling sick." He advised. Leo nodded and started eating the pasta.

Balan was surprised by how fast the boy was eating, despite his throat hurting. He was practically shoveling the food in his gullet and not stopping while drinking his mug of hot chocolate as well. The maestro took it as a sign that he was starting to feel better now that his throat hurt a little less. The poor boy was starving because of his ailment. Leo finished his bowl of mac and cheese and his mug of hot chocolate in no time at all. He sighed in relief now that his belly was full. "My, my. You indeed WERE hungry. Need seconds?" Balan asked. Leo just pushed the bowl away from him. "I would love some more, but I really gotta get home. I just want to go to bed at this point." He cleared his throat to help his still raspy voice. Balan nodded and stood from the table. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll escort you to the door." He warmly said.

Leo grabbed his jacket from the coak rack as the maestro lead him to the door. He knelt down to his level and adjusted Leo's scarf. "You take care of yourself, Leo." He said. "Remember to drink plenty of fluids, take the medicine your parents give you, and get lots of rest. Gargle warm salt water and take a spoonful of honey if you need to. It'll help take away the pain for a little bit. I hope your laryngitis will go away and you get well soon." Leo smiled and hugged the maestro before walking out the door. "Thanks, Balan. Who would've thought you were the best doctor." He said. Balan hugged him back. "Not a doctor. Just experienced. Now you go home and relax, ok?" Leo nodded his head as he walked out the door of the theater.

As Leo was about to turn a corner, he stopped a moment to cough and felt his nose itch again. He groped around in his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief Balan gave him. "ACHOO!" He sneezed. "Bless you!" Balan called at the other end. Leo smiled and waved at him as a way of saying thank you as he headed back home to rest.

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part two

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: some violence, trigger warning of sedation (it isn’t in there for a long time and the description of it isn’t super good BUT it’s still there), mentions of kidnapping, i think that’s it. 

word count: just a bit over 3k 

a/n: okay! here’s part two, i’m experimenting with the longer parts, so let me know what y’all think of it. bucky does make an appearance soon, i swear y’all :) just be patience with me babes. also, i know this isn’t like the typical fan fic because it isn’t in the second person but we’re powering through together. i hope y’all enjoy babes <3

p.s.: if y’all want to be added to a tag list for this series, shoot me a message and we’ll get it worked out 

series m.list

ray’s m.list

*****************

I shot up from my bed, eyes wild and frantic searching for anything to ground me to my current surroundings. It was just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too detailed, too crisp for it to have really been just a dream. I swung my legs off my bed and grabbed a hold of the fluffy white comforter. Groaning, I pushed my feet to touch the cold hardwood of my apartment. I made my way towards my kitchen and my coffee maker. I popped a breakfast blend K-cup into the slot and dumped a mug full of water into the side of the machine. Pressing the button, I turned while listening to the coffee machine force the water through the coffee grounds and filter and into my cup.

Looking out into my living room, I eyed my couch. It was intact with no bullet holes riddling the cushions. It was still the pristine white that I’ve spent many nights curled on watching movies. The dark stained wood coffee table in front of it brought memories of long study sessions with books and loose papers strewn across it. A faint smile graced my lips as I was reminiscing. The black coffee maker spit the last of the dark substance into my mug, so I reached into my cabinets and pulled out the essentials. I’ve never been one for pure black coffee, tastes like tar in my opinion. The aftertaste isn’t something that I want to deal with for as long as it’ll last.

I dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the cup and then poured a dash of liquid creamer in along with it. Stirring the now light brown liquid, I raised the mug to my mouth and took a much needed sip. Sighing as I swallowed, I walked around to the couch in the living. Plopping down, I kicked my feet to rest on top of the coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I tried to process what my dream was about.

It was just too real to be a dream, right? It was awfully specific to be a dream. Squinting my eyes, I nodded my head and set my mug on the table. Reaching for my laptop and opening the first browser I could, I searched ‘dream analysis.’ Maybe they’ll have something that can give me an answer as to why it was so clear. Scrolling down the first website, my eyes scanning the bolded letters. Nine Common Dreams and What They Could Mean, oh perfect. Flying, being naked in public, teeth falling out, cheating, none of these are like my dream. I shook my head and swiped out of the website and back to the search engine.

It was late in the morning and the sun was rising to its peak when I finally gave up. It’s obvious what happened though, I’ve gone mental. Absolutely insane, just plain certifiable. No, no, that’s not what it is. My coffee now gone cold, I placed my closed laptop on the coffee table next to the discarded coffee mug. I stood and my head started throbbing. Deciding I would have a better outlook on things without a pounding head, I took a shower. The water was a pleasant, scalding temperature. Leaving the bathroom with my hair in a towel and another wrapped around my body, I changed into a simple pair of ripped mom jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Hanging my towels on the rack in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and then turned out the light as I left.

Today was my one day off of work this week and I was going to savor it. Slipping on a pair of ratty sneakers and grabbing my purse from the hook next to the door, I left my cozy apartment. I locked the door and shoved my keys all the way to the bottom of my purse. I left my building with the intention of trying to shake off the nightmare that I had. To do so, I went into the coffee shop at the end of the block. I pushed the doors open and was greeted with a warm and inviting atmosphere. Dark floors gave way to twinkling lights illuminating the charcoal gray walls. Behind the counter, I make eye contact with the barista and receive a tight-lipped smile from him. “Hi, welcome to Beniot’s Beans. What can I get started for you today?”

I glanced at the chalkboard menu and ran my eyes over it quickly. I already knew what I wanted, but I needed to prepare myself to say it out loud. “Hello, can I get a medium caramel iced coffee to go, please?” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as he scribbled my order onto the clear plastic cup. He told me my total as I looted in my wallet for my bills. After placing the money in the register, he explained that they would call my order when it was ready. I nodded and walked off to find somewhere to sit that was out of the way. After situating myself on one of the comfortable armchairs, I pulled my phone out in an effort to discourage human interaction. After retrieving my order from the counter, I sat back down in the armchair, trying to decide what to do next. The hour was just rolling over to being almost lunchtime, which made me realize that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Shrugging my purse back onto my shoulder and shoving my phone into it, I left the store throwing a small wave to the barista behind the counter.

Sighing contentedly, I made the trek back to my apartment while steadily drinking the iced coffee. Some people say coffee shouldn’t be cold, and then there’s people who have sense. Giggling to myself, I took in my surroundings. Brick buildings lined the small two-way road. The donut shop on the opposite side of the street had two cop cruisers sitting in front of it. The contrasting black and white paint with black lettering outlined in yellow was intimidating. There was no reason for it to be, but there was just an aura of discomfort encapsulating the cars. By this time, I had stopped, slurping on my almost empty iced coffee. Breaking out of my trance with a ring of a bell, four officers exited the donut shop. Two of the officers held off-white cardboard boxes, they were all laughing at something. I tilted my head and scrunched my brows, guess the stereotype about cops is true, they love their donuts. Sensing a stare, one of the officers looked around for the source. Eventually, our gazes locked and he winked. Uh, ew. Making a face, I shook my head and went about my way back to my apartment.

Despite that experience, it was nice to be able to have no specific agenda, just relaxing and going with the flow. My inner monologue stopped when I got to my kitchen and started deciding what to prepare for lunch. Finally landing on a box of macaroni and cheese to satisfy my hunger, I set to work. The pot of water now on the stove, I tossed my empty plastic cup from the coffee shop into the garbage bin. I went around to my living room and grabbed my coffee mug from earlier and placed it in the sink, after rinsing it out. I’ll wash that and the stuff I use for lunch after I finish eating. I dumped the box of uncooked noodles into the now boiling water. Soon, the macaroni was ready to be eaten, so I poured the cheesy noodles into a bowl. Hoisting myself onto the granite countertop, I began to inhale the food. Wow, okay I was hungrier than I thought. It didn’t take long to finish off the noodles. As I was washing the dirty dishes, the intercom system of the apartment went off. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I inquired into the speaker box. “Hi, I’m looking for the inhabitant of this flat.”

My brows furrowing, I asked again, “Who is this?”

“Ma’am, please don’t waste my time or yours. Is this the woman who lives in this apartment, yes or no?” They sounded exhausted. “I need to speak with the woman who lives here.” I was shocked, this didn’t seem right. Alright, I’m a woman living alone in an apartment building. Some stranger comes to my building, asking to speak to me, so what do I do?

“Uh, yeah they’re not here. You’ll have to come back later.” The lie was easy. Safety first and all, right? There was no reply after waiting a few minutes, so I went back to doing my dishes. After drying and putting them away, I kicked my shoes off and settled into my couch with a fluffy blue throw. Flicking the TV on, I picked the home improvement channel. I stretched out on the couch while wondering how realtor Bessie May was going to find this couple the perfect home. Snuggling further into the pillows, I was able to drift off into a dreamless slumber.

*********************************

It was loud banging that eventually roused me. Untangling myself from the fluff that wrapped around my legs, I toppled onto the floor. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” I shouted at the door. Who the hell? I swear if it’s my crazy neighbor again. “Marge! If this is you, we are going to have a problem!” I huffed my way to the door and yanked it open to reveal a group of men in what looked like dark tactical gear. Confusion overtook my facial features. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my door knob.

“Um… hi? Can I help you?” I questioned the group at large.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for the permanent resident of this apartment.” The man to my left said. He was short and stocky, he was also the only man wearing a dark gray suit. “Are you the permanent resident of this unit?” He continued while trying to see over my shoulders and into the living room.

“No, they’re not here right now.” I repeated the lie from earlier. I had an inkling this had to do with that, what else could it be?

“Well, do you know when she’ll be back?” He pressed, still stealing glances into my abode.

“No, she didn’t say. You’ll have to come back later. Goodbye.” I stated while closing the door. I was almost home free until a combat boot clad foot was stuck into the door frame.

“You see ma’am, this really isn’t the time to be lying to me.” The suited man explained. I took a deep breath and continued trying to close the door.

“Well, I’ve already told you all I know. The person who owns this place isn’t here right now.” The door was stopped yet again by the same foot.

“Ma’am, you need to invite us inside. We have things to discuss.” Suits ordered.

My brows raised, “Or what?” I scoffed, “Look you need to leave before I call the police. Good day to you gentlemen.” Another attempt to close the door was once again defeated, but this time the door swung in. Allowing entrance into my apartment. My eyes widened and I rushed away from the door, putting as much distance between the group of men and myself.

“What the hell are you doing! I’m calling the police.” I reached for my phone that was laying on the coffee table. It was snatched away from me by a man in tactical gear. His hair was cropped and dark, he slipped my phone into one of the many pockets of his vest. I raised my eyebrows at the man, and began demanding my phone from him.

“Listen ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us.” Suits insisted. My gaze darted to him, if looks could kill man. “We’re allowing you the privilege of getting a bag of your necessities.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my ever rising nerves. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep to process what Suits was saying. “We don’t have all day. Get your stuff now.” I shook my head and started refusing.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening. I’m asking you one last time to leave my apartment before I start screaming.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective stance. They’ve got five seconds before I raise hell. Suits made a face that looked like he was disappointed.

“Grab her.” The man who took my phone advanced at me. His whole hand covered my upper arm, lifting it and beginning to drag me to the door. I started kicking out, clawing, trying to make contact with anything that I could hurt. Damage, don’t stop fighting. Don’t give in. Whipping my upper body around, I managed to scratch the man's cheek. He cried out in pain and his grip loosened for just a moment. Long enough for me to wrench my arm away from him and run towards the front door. My path was interrupted by a wall of a man. Towering over me, he wrapped both of his arms around my torso. Effectively stopping all of my movement while he turned me in his grasp to face Suits once again.

“Help! Someone help me! Help me!” This was a quiet enough building, shouts like that would surely gain someone’s attention, right? “Help! Someone help me, please!” I was screaming my throat sore. Not stopping until there was a large hand placed over my mouth. Even then, there were muffled cries that could be heard throughout my otherwise silent apartment unit. Stifled sobs were leaving my lungs in heaves. Suits approached me and shook his head,

“It really didn’t have to be like this but, of course.” He turned to one of his goons and nodded his head towards me. I began screaming again as the final goon stepped forward. His hair was slicked back and I could smell the hair gel that he must have just dipped his head into. Hair Gel reached into his pocket and brought out a small white case.

He unzipped the case and gestured to the mass of a man behind me. My head was moved to expose my neck, I struggled against Mass while Hair Gel approached. Screaming and thrashing trying to disrupt what I thought was about to happen. Hair Gel assembled a syringe, outfitting it with a blue capped needle. Hair Gel extracted a clear liquid into the syringe, he got closer to my jolting body, glaring at Mass.

“Hold her still, you buffoon.” He grunted at Mass. The grip around me began cutting off my circulation to the lower half of my body. Not deterring me in any way, I still made it as hard as I could for Hair Gel. There was a pinch on the side of my neck, and then a warm feeling passed through my body. Mass’s hand was still covering my mouth and his arms around my torso, if it weren’t for that I probably would’ve fallen straight to the ground. Oh hell man, what am I going to do now?

My body went limp in Mass’s hold, and my mind was starting to become fuzzy. Looking around at the three men in front of me, I worried what was going to happen. I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens to girls who travel alone. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me. Suits sighed yet again, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Suits looked to the man who I scratched and shook his head at him.

“You seriously let her get her hands on you?” Suits mocked, “That’s pathetic, Gomez.”

“Pathetic? She was clawing me, man!” The man, Gomez, defended.

“It doesn’t matter, you idiot. You still aren’t supposed to let it happen.” Suits berated Gomez and then waved him off, “Go get the stuff. And don’t mess it up this time, ya got that?” Gomez rolled his eyes at Suits, but nodded anyway. He left the room towards my bedroom. My eyelids started drooping, I willed them to stay open a bit longer.

“How long’s it gonna take that stuff to kick in?” Suits asked Hair Gel.

“Oh, it starts working immediately.” Hair Gel finished replacing everything in his white case, turning to me, he continued, “The body reacts to the compound right away, inducing temporary paralysis. It’s really quite remarkable to watch it in action.”

Suits glanced at Hair Gel, “You mean to tell me it doesn’t make them unconscious? What the hell did I bring you along for?”

“Of course it makes the victim unconscious, what do you think I’m stupid or something? It just takes a couple of minutes for the enzyme to break down for the brain.” Hair Gel tilted his head while looking at me. He gave me a once over and if I had any kind of control over my body, there would’ve been an unmistakable shiver that passed through my body. Gomez emerged with a duffle in tow and dumped the closed bag on the couch.

“Don’t forget the laptop, Gomez.” Suits reminded him while his attention was on the kitchen of my apartment. “Alright, let’s go.” With the effort it takes to lift a feather, Mass carried me bridal style out of my unit. My eyelids were becoming even more heavy and I screamed and shouted in my head, but my mouth just wouldn’t move. The four men made their way out, passing my crazy neighbor Marge.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Marge’s door was open, and she leaned up against the frame, watching this scene go down.

“Nothing to be worried about ma’am. This is official government business.” Suits reported, simply shrugging off Marge.

“Government business?” Marge shrieked, and a glimmer of hope flashed in my head. Marge won’t fall for your bullshit Suits. She’s going to save me. “I always knew there was something off about that one.” What the hell, Marge?

“Like I said ma’am, nothing to worry about. Now if you would, just go back inside. We’re done here.” Suits advised. Marge, who was none the wiser, bounced her shoulders and turned back into her own unit. She could be heard through the door explaining to her guests that her next door neighbor was always strange and never really sat right with her.

“Doesn’t surprise me they’re taking her away. I always knew something was off about that girl. I told you so.” Marge howled with laughter after her statement. My last hope dashed by my crazy neighbor’s complete ignorance and lack of acknowledgement for her surroundings. Mass began his descent of the stairs with a steady pace. The constant rocking back and forth of his body weight served to lull my eyelids the rest of the way closed.

[jeanmor-oh-no]

Part 2

Special thanks to @patrocool for the expertise on binders + safety! Also for just being cool as hell

——————

It was Jeremy’s turn to lift an eyebrow when he saw the amount of packages on his bed. Underworks, ShapeShifters, GC2B?

He sure as hell didn’t have the money to order, Christ, was this 10 different packages?

One by one, Jeremy began opening them up, slowly as the shock and pleasant surprise began to warm him.

Nude binders, rainbow binders, one Captain America one, all in either his size or one size larger. Some had zippers up the front, one went down the length of his torso but had the binder on top and simple fabric below to allow his stomach to protrude (definitely going to make use of that come Thanksgiving at Nan’s), and at least three were specifically advertised for exercising. Jeremy has never been actually excited to put on a binder before, but with all these colors and styles, he almost wouldn’t mind showing off a few.

Jeremy blinked. Where the hell had this come from. His grin began to enlarge and at the next practice (sporting his new Extreme Magicotton Sports and Binding Bra. Ooh it felt nice to have something new and clean to wear during practice), he jumped on Alvarez from behind and gave her a wet and sloppy kiss on her ear.

She laughed, swatting him away and wiping at her ear.

“The hell is this for?” she asked, and Jeremy cocked his head and tried not to blush.

“You know,” he said, and puffed out his chest. “Where the fuck did you get all the cash for them? I’m not complaining but...”

Instead of a bashful smile and an elbow check, which he’d expected, Alvarez frowned at him.

“Dude, I’m broke as fuck. Last thing I bought was toilet paper. And I didn’t buy it—I stole it from the USC humanities bathroom. What are you talking about?”

Jeremy paused. If not Alvarez, who?

“I got...” he leaned in, dropping his voice. None of his transition was secret, but he didn’t want to offend anyone by his silly mix up over who’d given him a thoughtful, and way generous, gift. “I got like, ten binders today. The packages were all on my bed. No note. I figured...” he shrugged and Alvarez’s mouth opened in an “a-ha.”

“Well you’re not gonna believe it, but guess who was asking after your measurements two weeks ago?”

Jeremy shrugged.

Alvarez pointed with three fingers to tallest member of their team.

Jeremy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“No shit?” he mouthed.

“No shit,” she mouthed back.

The rest of practice was bizarre. While at first hesitant in his new sports binder, a few minutes of practice showed everything was in place and Jeremy easily began fighting and throwing down with his usual vigor. He messed up several times only because he couldn’t stop looking at his roommate from the corner of his eye.

After practice Jeremy rushed out, ignoring the showers in favor of a speedy departure. He ran into the store and bought every kind of Annie’s Mac and Cheese, from bunnies with white cheddar to classic macaroni and orange cheese. He bought twice as many since they were on sale, and made sure to get extra of the ones with the bug-shaped pasta.

He got home sweaty as hell—it was October but the SoCal sun was in full heat—and dropped them on his roommate’s bed. He smiled down at the enormous pile, which nearly took up the whole bed, with a satisfied twinkle in his eye.

He was in the shower when the front door opened and shut quietly, still when Jean entered his own room.

Jeremy put on his second new binder of the day, the Shapeshifters zipper one, and towel dried his hair. When he came out to the living room, he beamed at the sight before him.

Jean Moreau whole heartedly eating away an entire box of Annie’s Mac and Cheese, the one with the bunnies.

Jean didn’t look up from his bowl. For a Frenchman he was surprisingly gross with his table manners, slurping away at his runny and faux-cheesy pasta. Jeremy sat on the other side of the table with his bowl of Cheerios, staring at the crown of Jean’s coiled, short clipped hair.

Neither a word was spoken. But the silence was warm, and both boys sat content with their gifts.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate prompt 78) “I love you.” “You shouldn’t.”

These prompts have been sitting in my inbox since last August XD. I’m sorry, it took ages for these two to actually start talking about their issues.

[AO3]

x

Belle had known that a broken arm would be tricky to manage, but she hadn’t realised how helpless she was without Gold around to assist her. Getting dressed was the first obstacle, and she struggled to get out of her nightdress and into her underwear. She discarded any thought of attempting to put on a bra, and after weighing her options, decided on simple sweatpants, a camisole and cardigan. Even brushing her hair with her left hand took some getting used to.

He had left early, so quietly that she hadn’t heard him go, but when she entered the kitchen she found the coffee maker ready to go with decaf, the lid off the tea canister and cooked sliced mushrooms and onions alongside a plate of grated cheese and a bowl containing beaten eggs. The makings of an omelette. It made her smile.

She managed to make the omelette, although it wasn’t about to win any prizes for looks by the time it was on her plate, and ate it at the table with some tea, following it up with decaf coffee and one of the oat and raisin cookies he had made the previous day. Checking the fridge made her smile again; he had portioned up the food he had cooked, glass dishes containing macaroni cheese all ready to go in the oven and beef in red wine in plastic tubs ready for the microwave or to be tipped into a pan.

She spent her day reading and relaxing, rubbing her belly whenever the baby kicked. It was starting to get more uncomfortable the closer she got to her due date. She tried to look ahead six months, when the baby was on the outside, crawling around the apartment. Would Gold still be there? Probably not; she imagined he would move into his own place as soon as her arm was healed, seeing the baby according to the terms in the thick sheaf of documents that she had still not signed. The thought made her feel incredibly lonely.

Emma popped in to see her at lunchtime only briefly, staying for a cup of cocoa and helping her to tie up her hair. She promised to return after class with Neal and Henry, and so by six-thirty they were all seated around the kitchen table, eating their way through Gold’s macaroni cheese.

“This is so good,” said Henry, scraping his plate. “It’s got about a ton of cheese in it. Mom, you should make it like this next time.”

“Thanks,” said Emma dryly. “I thought you liked my mac and cheese.”

“I do, but you always say ‘is that enough cheese’ and I feel like I have to say yes, and it never is.”

“Wow - thanks for the honesty, I guess,” remarked Emma, taking a drink of her wine. Belle and Neal chuckled.

“You can tell Gold it was a hit,” added Neal, digging a fork into his own food. “It’s comforting. Kinda tastes like home, you know?”

“He’s an annoyingly good cook,” said Belle, in a flat tone.

“Why, that sneaky son of a—” Neal glanced at Henry. “Uh - well, you know what I mean. Belle, somehow I doubt it’s all part of an evil scheme. Maybe he just thinks you need to eat some good food.”

“Yeah, I know I sound unreasonable,” she sighed. “I don’t know where my brain’s at right now. This morning I was wondering how the hell I’d cope on my own, and - and that maybe I’ll miss him when he’s not here and it’s just me and the baby. It’s - it’s like I resent the fact that he’s stepping up, and I don’t really understand it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being emotional.”

She poked at her food, feeling despondent.

“You resent that he’s making you feel things?” said Emma, with a knowing look in her eyes, and Belle pulled a face.

“Maybe.”

“Can’t be angry with him anymore, and you still feel like you should be?”

Belle put down her fork.

“Okay, did you take psych class today or something?”

Emma put a hand over hers, grinning.

“I get it, that’s all,” she said. “Don’t get too hung up on what you think you should be feeling. Do whatever’s best for making you happy.”

Belle thought about that for a moment.

“I’m not sure what that is,” she said eventually, and Emma shrugged.

“Give it time.”

There was silence except for the scraping of plates while they finished up, and Neal offered to wash up. Dessert was ice cream, brought by Emma, and Henry went to eat his in front of the TV while Neal dried the dishes and Emma finished her wine.

“Do either of you want coffee?” asked Belle. “You’ll probably have to help me make it, but you’re welcome.”

“I could use one,” said Neal, over his shoulder. “Let me make it. You want one?”

“I’ll have tea. Peppermint, I think. The baby’s been kicking so much today it gives me heartburn.” 

He dried his hands, and Belle pushed back her chair to go to the bathroom. When she got back the coffee maker was running, and Neal had taken Gold’s old toy rabbit from its place on the shelf beside the fridge. He had a puzzled look on his face as he turned the rabbit over and over in his hands, and Belle was reminded of Gold, and the way he had studied it.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked.

“Oh, it belongs to Alex,” she said. “It’s not for the baby, or anything. It belonged to his son.”

Neal looked up.

“He had a kid?”

“Still does, apparently,” said Belle. “They kind of lost touch.”

“How long ago?” asked Emma.

“I think he said his son was two. It was years ago. I’m - I’m not sure how much he really wants me to talk about it. If at all.”

“Oh. Okay.” Emma looked thoughtful. “But he talked to you about it. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” Belle took her seat. “He brought the rabbit with him when he moved in, and although I’d seen it before in his shop, I hadn’t thought anything of it. So I asked him. He was - he was probably the most open he’s been with me. I think it made him uncomfortable.”

“Well, practice makes perfect.”

“Yeah.” Belle reached for her peppermint tea. “Here’s hoping for more of that.”

“Does it make you feel better about how he’ll be with the baby?” asked Neal. “I’m not prying into the guy’s private business, but maybe if he’s had a kid and you know that he loved that kid, it might make you feel a bit easier about this one, you know?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Yeah, he definitely loves his son,” she said. “I could see it in his eyes. It was kind of heartbreaking, to be honest. So yes, I do think he’ll love our child. I - I think he already does.”

“Have you guys talked about how you’ll divide up caring for the baby?”

“No.” Belle ran her hands over her face, huffing air through her fingers. “He went to his lawyer. Drew up a huge document that I can’t face reading through and told me to get some legal advice.”

“He’s right to say that.”

“I know.” Belle sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I just - I just can’t at the moment. Every time I think about our lives being tied up in clauses and sub-clauses and stupid legal terms, I want to cry.”

Neal and Emma shared a glance.

“Well, I guess since he’s living with you at the moment, there’s no rush,” said Emma reasonably.

“Yeah, plenty of time to lawyer up when he moves out,” added Neal.

“Yeah.”

Belle picked up her tea, feeling subdued, and there was a moment of silence.

“Maybe we can make Fridays a thing,” suggested Emma. “He said he’d be in Maine every week, so we could come over and keep you company.”

“I don’t know if he’ll stick to Fridays.”

“He said he had an appointment to keep,” said Emma. “Said it would be every Friday.”

“An appointment?” Belle frowned. “He never mentioned it. I know he has rent to collect, but I thought he was getting someone to do that for him.”

“Huh. Well, it’s only a suggestion.”

“No, it’s a good one,” said Belle. “I’ll ask him what his plans are.”

“Sounds good.” Emma took a slurp of coffee. “Okay, who’s up for a game of cards? Loser buys dessert next week.”

x

Gold returned when it was almost ten, looking drained and tired, although he greeted her pleasantly. Belle found herself wanting to make him tea and feed him something, and felt a little useless when he insisted on seeing to himself. He made her chamomile tea, and regular tea for himself, along with a sandwich that he made short work of in the kitchen before bringing his tea through to the lounge. She was curled in a chair, a book tented on the arm as she sipped at her drink, and he lowered himself onto the couch, perching on the edge with his elbows resting on his knees, an aura of tension hanging around him.

“How was your day?” he asked. “Did you manage everything okay? Did your friends come over?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” she said. “Your mac and cheese was a hit, by the way. Henry thought it was awesome.”

He smiled faintly.

“Good.”

“We talked about making it a regular Friday night get-together,” she added. “But I wasn’t sure if we could, what with your work thing.”

“My work thing?” said Gold, looking confused.

“Emma said you had a regular appointment in Maine,” she prompted. “So I was wondering if that was gonna be every Friday or not.”

Gold hesitated only briefly.

“I can go every Friday, if that makes it easier for you to organise things.”

“Good.” She took a sip of her drink. “In that case I’ll ask them to come over for movies and popcorn. It’ll be nice to have some company.”

“Right,” he said. “Yes.”

“Which means the rest of the week, we have each other for company,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Which we should make the most of, don’t you think?”

His eyes narrowed a little.

“In what way?”

“I - I thought maybe we could talk some more,” she said. “I thought - well, the conversation we had the other night. I thought that was - useful.”

Gold held her gaze steadily for a moment, then looked away, elbows shifting on his knees, fingers threaded together.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it felt like - progress.”

She could sense his awkwardness, and felt the urge to reach out to him, to send him some sort of comfort, even as she battled with her own anxiety, her own hurt.

“So, we should talk,” she went on. “Clear the air. If you’re willing.”

There was a moment of silence, and his jaw tightened a little, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Alright,” he said at last. 

Belle set down her tea, letting her feet slip to the floor as she sat forward a little, instinctively moving closer to him, bridging the space between them until their knees were almost touching. She could hear the light sound of him breathing through his nose, and the faintest scent of him was in the air, making her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply.

“I meant it,” she said softly. “What I said the other night, before the accident. I meant it. I love you.”

His mouth was set in a grim line, his eyes downcast as his head shook slightly: the barest denial.

“You shouldn’t.”

Belle sighed, sitting back.

“That’s not how this works,” she said. “That’s not how any of this works. You can’t just tell someone not to love you.”

He was silent, not looking at her, and she shook her head.

“I wanted to hate you, you know,” she admitted. “There were times when I feel like I wish I could hurt you like you hurt me, but I know that if I had the chance I wouldn’t do it.”

“Of course not,” he said quietly. “That’s not who you are.”

“Oh, I have my moments,” she said. “Pretty sure I’ve cursed you out a hundred times since we broke up.”

“Well, I imagine I deserved it.”

“Yeah.”

She looked at her hands, folded together in her lap, and there was a moment of silence. Glancing up, she could see that Gold’s attention was on the floor at his feet, the space between the toes of his shoes. She wondered what he was thinking.

“I was so hurt, for so long,” she said. “Devastated. And - and after that I got angry. Maybe I still am, I don’t know. I - I keep thinking irrational things, and I don’t always realise that I’m being unreasonable.”

“I don’t think you’re unreasonable,” he said, and took a deep breath. “You said you didn’t trust me. That - that stayed with me, Belle. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Right.”

“There again, given what I did,” he went on. “I - ah - I don’t suppose I’ve given you much reason to.”

More silence, but somehow it was deafening, as though the space between them was screaming at her. She had to speak, to bridge the gap, to voice her pain.

“You know, that was the worst of it,” she said softly. “Not the things you said, so much, awful though they were. It was more that you felt you could say them. Maybe I’m not making sense, I don’t know…”

He looked up then, his eyes warm, filled with what might have been pain and regret.

“Tell me,” he said. “I need to hear it.”

Belle chewed her lip, trying to organise her thoughts.

“I thought I knew you,” she said. “You didn’t give me much to work with, don’t get me wrong, but the little I got made me think that you - cared - for me. And - and that was okay, because even though you never said it, I felt it. I knew.”

She paused, choosing her words. His mouth had twisted a little, pain etched in the lines around his eyes.

“I’ve always felt that I have a sense about people,” she said. “That I can see past the surface, see what’s inside. So when you did what you did, not only did I realise that I didn’t know you, but it was like I lost my sense of who I was, too.”

Gold nodded slowly.

“Like you couldn’t trust your instincts,” he said. “Couldn’t trust yourself.”

“I - I guess so.”

“Yes.” He dropped his eyes again so that he wasn’t quite looking at her, but at his fingers, laced together. “And that’s why you can’t trust me, either.”

“Uh…” She shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

Gold nodded.

“I understand,” he whispered.

“I want to,” she added. “I want to trust you. I hate this - all of this - between us.” She gestured with a hand, back and forth. “I want it to be better. I do.”

Gold looked up again, smiling a little.

“So do I,” he said. “I’m trying, Belle. I - I know it might not feel like it, but I am.”

He dropped his eyes again, but she sensed he still had more to say, so she remained silent. Gold opened his mouth, looking a little pained.

“It - it wasn’t work,” he said hesitantly, and Belle frowned.

“What?”

“In Storybrooke,” he said. “I said I had to go there for work. That was only partly true. I can sort out the things I need to for my business remotely, I don’t need to go there.”

Belle blinked, surprised.

“Oh,” she said.

More silence. She held her tongue, waiting for him to fill it, and Gold took a breath, his brows lifting a little in the middle, giving him an anxious, somewhat helpless expression. 

“I’m going to Storybrooke each Friday because I have a regular appointment,” he said heavily. “To see Dr Hopper. For - for therapy.”

“Therapy?” Belle felt her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really.”

He caught her eyes very briefly with his before ducking his head again. She wanted to smile, a sense of relief flooding through her. Finally. Finally he asked for help.

“How’s it going?” she asked, and he sighed, that helpless look briefly returning.

“Well, it’s early days,” he said. “It’s - it’s not easy. But there again nothing worthwhile is, so they say. I’m going to keep trying. He’s - I think he’s probably very good at his job.”

“Yeah.” Bless Dr Hopper. If anyone can help, he can. “Well, I’m proud of you.”

Gold looked up sharply, a stricken expression on his face, and she smiled warmly.

“I really am,” she said sincerely. “I’m proud of you. I know how hard it must be to ask for help. It - it makes me feel like you’re really serious about making things better.”

A flicker of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“I am,” he said. “I promise.”

He held her gaze for a moment, that tiny smile making his eyes gleam. It reminded her of happier times, and there was a lurch deep in her belly at the memories. Gold eventually glanced away.

“We should go to bed,” he said, and threw up a hand as Belle raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I - I didn’t mean we should go to bed, although - okay I did mean that, but I didn’t mean together, I meant - I meant to sleep, that’s all. I meant – oh fuck it, I’ll shut up.”

He sighed, letting the hand drop, and Belle giggled a little, eyes sparkling.

“Sleep sounds good,” she said, and he smiled.

“Right,” he said. “Well.”

He pushed to his feet, grasping his cane and holding out a hand to pull her up. Belle swayed in his grip a little, smiling up at him.

“Goodnight, Alexander,” she said softly.

“Goodnight.”

She let her hand slip from his, picking up her tea and making her way towards the bedroom, feeling his eyes on her back. Slowly, very slowly, they were making progress.

[unlucky-watcher]

Smoke Pollutes Your Lungs (And Your Good Behaviour)

Steve knew he was spoiled, after all he'd be raised like that.

It had been six months since he started to live with Mr. William Hargrove. It was summer in Indiana and the two were sitting by the pool. Steve spent his time looking at Billy with pure adoration while Billy smoked a cigar and watched the day pass by. It was a comfortable silence until Steve wanted a try of Billy's very expensive cigar. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

Steve knew he was spoiled, after all Billy made him like that.

Word Count: 4.5k

Steve knew he was a spoiled boy. He was raised that way. He grew up rich, having everything he ever wanted. He was the king, the golden boy, the top dog of the town. He could have anything and everything he wanted, it made him spoiled rotten by sugar left out, still sweet but spoiled. Then he got older, a few misplaced arguments happened with his father and he was no longer a trust fund baby. He got kicked off his father’s payroll and sent out into the world in nothing but the money he himself had stored away. Maybe that’s what started his need for male attention for a daddy to look at him with admiration. He wasn’t too sure and didn’t often dabble with the idea of his daddy issues. It had been a rough few months at the start of college. Relying on ramen noodles and the occasional box of macaroni and cheese when it was on sale. He found himself crying every night, itching to crawl back to his father with tears in his big brown eyes and hope to be taken back. But, he could never work up the courage to drive back to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He ended up dropping out of college, promising that he’d return at some point. He continued to work dead end jobs, eat less than sustainable food and feel himself fall deeper into a pit. But then he met a Mr. William Hargrove, and that changed everything.

-

Billy had a nice big house outside of the city, he was secluded with a wall and thick foliage. He had made a lot of money by the age of twenty-eight. When he saw Steve for the first time, he knew just like the collection of fast cars and expensive watches, he had to have the boy with the big brown eyes and soft pink lips It was a summer’s day when he was relaxing by the pool, smoking a cigar and watching the clear watcher twinkle under the sun. His baby was on the pool chair next to him, wearing nothing more than tight, small yellow swim shorts. They showed off the tiny bulge of his cock, Billy found it cute. Steve was proud of them because he picked them out by himself and Billy can't argue that he made a good choice. He exhaled slowly, smoke leaving his mouth in a slow drag. He took his time with expensive cigars like this, even though their cost was pennies to him he liked the feeling of the smoke and how burned in all the right ways.

Steve kept himself busy by examining Billy, he knew he could go inside and grab something to read or do, but the way he smoked left a warm feeling in his gut. There was a method to it that Billy perfected and made it seem so easy. It brought a thought into his head, maybe he could do it too.

Billy looked over to his baby. He could still see the streaks of sunscreen along the boy’s pale thighs. He could remember only a little while ago that Steve was being a brat about having to wear sunscreen. “I’m used to the California sun, you’re not. You need sunscreen baby."

"I'm a grown boy, I don't need sunscreen. You act like there is no sun here!" Steve reluctantly agreed, but held a pout the entire time. But now it seemed not  important to him, smiling and looking over at Billy, his daddy.

"Daddy." Steve asked, a hint of a smile.  "Yes, baby?" Billy asked as he exhaled another drag. "Can I try?" Steve tipped down his Ray Bans to show his doe eyes. He looked like the pinnacle of innocence. On his stomach, long legs on display with his ankles crossed over one another. Resting his chin on his hand while his other plays with the material of the lawn chair. "Try what, baby?" Billy asked as he exhaled. He dangled the cigar between his pointer finger and thumb. He knew what Steve wanted, but he was still teaching his boy how to ask for things he wants. To use his words. Steve tried to reach out, but Billy leaned away from his boy. "Use your words." Billy's tone was stern. Steve pouted, "I wanna try some of that cigar."

"Why would you want to do that?" "So I can be big like you!" Steve took off his sunglasses all the way and put them on the side table in between their chairs where a forgotten glass of whiskey sat. Billy leaned over and patted the young man's ass, "You're a little baby, babies can't have cigars." Steve pouted even further, "Please." He put on his best puppy dog eyes and leaned even closer to the older man. He even rubbed his thighs together a little bit, knowing how Billy felt about his thighs. Billy sighed, he couldn't say no to his baby. He knew that he was training him to be a good boy, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. Steve was all his from his fluffy hair that he liked to tug on, to his pink lips that looks sinful around his cock, to his pale thighs and his little pink cock. It was all his from top to bottom, inside and out. And that made Steve Billy's greatest weakness.

"Have you ever had a cigar before?" Billy asked and he looked at his baby. He watched Steve shake his head, "Alright, you have to be careful." He put the it in between Steve's lips and said, "now inhale slightly not too much." Then positioned Steve's fingers around it. Steve did as he was told and inhaled, but did it too fast. Quickly he eyes began to burn and ragged coughs tore from his lungs as they too burned. He coughed so much that he dropped the cigar to the stone ground. His body shook with each cough as he tried to stop. But, he felt proud of himself regardless, he got to try a cigar! Billy was hovering over him, by that point, hand on his baby's side as he waited for him to stop coughing. "Can I have a sip of your drink too?" Steve asked in between coughs, not even noticing the fact that he dropped the very expensive cigar on the ground, rendering it finished despite a good chunk of it left. "Baby, come on. Now you're asking too much. Now I'm going to get dust pan so I can throw out the cigar. You stay here, okay?" Billy left to go inside, knowing that his baby was okay now.

Steve waited until the glass door of the back was closed, looking over his shoulder to watch Billy walk inside. He knew he wasted a cigar, but he'd seen the fancy box that Billy kept all of them in, there must've been twenty others in that box. And it wasn't like his daddy couldn't buy more. He knew his daddy had money to spare. When the door closed, Steve quickly reached over and grabbed the glass on the small plastic table. It looked golden brown through the reflection of the bright sun. It looked mesmerizing. He'd seen Billy drink it a bunch of times, he never understood why he always had it in such small glasses. With ice cubes inside, liquid barely fills the glass. Seriously, he never understood why would you pour just one-third of the glass if you want to keep drinking. Maybe his history of drinking lukewarm beer on stranger's front lawns had made him not used to finer alcohol.

He leaned forward to put his lips at the edge of the glass, slurping the alcohol from there, but instantly pulls back. His eyes screwed shut as he hisses at the burn in his mouth and his entire face turns bright red. How could Billy drink this so smoothly? Thinking of Billy drank brought Steve to one of his favourite daydreams while he clutched the glass tightly. The taste still lingering in his mouth. The daydream was of Billy Hargrove spilling some whiskey as he drinks, the liquid falling in tiny streams down to his slightly exposed chest. And Billy calling Steve closer with an inviting movement of his index finger, his eyes dark as he commands boy to lick it clean and Steve can't help but obey, crawling on all fours between his daddy’s legs, running his opened palms over Billy's thighs and- "Baby." The young man snapped his gaze up to Billy's face as if he did something bad. Well, he did after all. "Yes Daddy." Steve asked as he quickly put the glass back and tried to act like nothing happened. He curled his knees to his chest as he sat up, trying to make himself as small and cute as possible. "Are you drinking?" Steve shook his head, "No daddy." He lowered his head but his eyes are unable to leave Billy’s face as older man walked slowly closer, taking his sweet time to approach Steve and all that the young man could do was just try to look as innocent as possible through long eyelashes above puppy eyes.

"What did I say about not drinking? I said no, baby. I leave you alone for one minute and you're already getting into trouble." Billy shook his head and he picked up the discarded cigar, "Baby if I give you an inch, you can't take the mile. That's not what good boys do.

"I didn't do anything wrong" Steve tried to defend himself, but he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or rather his hand secure around daddy's glass of expensive whiskey. Billy shook his head and placed the dust pan on his chair before going over to Steve's. He sat down around the middle of it and beckoned for his boy to come over to him with a crook of his finger. His postured screamed dominance and authority.  Steve couldn't help that his knees shook a little. Steve went over, getting up from the chair then getting back on, on his stomach and across Billy's lap. He knew what he was in for. "I think you need a spanking sweetheart." Billy said in a cool tone. His palm rubbed against Steve's swim short covered ass. Feeling the softness under his fingertips. He pulled down the yellow swim shorts, exposing Steve's creamy pale ass. "Why" Steve asked, burying his face in his arm. "Because." Billy landed the first spank, "You." Then another, "Didn't." Then another, "Listen." Another, "To", Another, "Daddy." And another. Steve whined at the sensation, he bit back an argument knowing that Billy was in the right.

Billy landed a few more spanks before he rubbed the reddened skin, "Baby you know I don't like to do this, but you need to learn to behave. I don't do this to hurt you." Steve whined and rutted against Billy's thigh. His cock was painfully hard now. His ass felt so warm against the summer sun and he could only imagine how red it must appear. Billy felt Steve rutting against his thigh, he found it almost endearing how small Steve seemed right now. Rutting against his thigh like a little puppy, fitting how often Steve gives puppy dog eyes.

"Are you spoiled baby?" Steve nodded his head as he continued to grind his hips. He wanted his orgasm so badly, he didn't care that it made him spoiled, or a brat, or a spoiled brat. Billy landed another hard smack against Steve's cheek. He heard Steve's moan, how could he not. It was loud and drenched in undeniable pleasure. He really needed to start thinking of new ways to punish his baby, it seemed like spanking wasn't doing the job. Regardless he began to lay down more spanks against the already reddened cheeks. Steve continued to rut against Billy's thigh. He was so close to his orgasm. His hard cock still trapped in his swim shorts, but he didn't care. He couldn't give a care in the world, he wanted to orgasm more than anything, "Daddy." "Yes, baby." "I'm sorry." He wanted to orgasm so badly, the feeling was a hand on his hips that continued to thrust the way he did. Erratic and fast with his face plastered against the material of the chair.

"I know you are, just a few more spanks." Billy continued to land them, seeing how dark red his cheeks were becoming. It was a sight to behold, that of a flower coming to bloom, exposing all the colour. Steve rutted a few more times, the warmth of orgasm curling in his gut. It only took a few more thrusts of his hips before he was squeezing his eyes hut and yelling, "Daddy!" So loud that it echoed through the backyard. Come painted the front of his shorts, leaving a dark wet spot behind. He melted against his daddy's lap and let himself be spanked a few more times without much noise. Finally behaving.

Billy moved Steve off of his lap, noticing that some of Steve's come was staining the front of his expensive pants, "Princess, clean up your messes." He pointed to the area. Steve dumbly nodded his head, now a good little submissive boy. He was out of his mind for the time being, it would be prolonged when Billy fucked him. He put his face close to Billy's clothed cock and began to lick his come out of the material, not even bothering with his own swim shorts. The salty taste was in his mouth. Not long after, Billy tugged at the back of Steve's hair, earning a quiet moan, "Does baby want to play?" Steve nodded his head and moaned louder when Billy yanked on his hair a little harder. He had a notable hair pulling kink, he liked when Billy played with it, but also pulled on it. It made him feel controlled yet adored, exactly what he wanted. Billy gave one last tug before he let go, "Time to go inside princess." then got off of the chair, "Time for daddy to get his fill too." He stood in front of Steve and brushed his hand along the front of his wet pants to emphasize his point. He grabbed the dustpan and headed inside.

Steve got up and followed Billy inside, grabbing a hold of the older man's wrist as he got lead into the house. Steve looked cute when Billy turned to look at him. All small and cute, with come stained swimwear and his cheeks all red that was just a shade lighter then how his ass looked.

Billy went into the kitchen to discard of the cigar, putting it out fully in the ashtray he kept in there. He came back to find Steve on his hands on knees, on the couch, fingering himself open with lube covered fingers. The bottle of lube stored in the drawer of the coffee table now on top of the shiny cherry wood table. Steve looked absolutely gone, putty in Billy's hands to do whatever he wanted. Steve was good like that, he was a good boy once he got an orgasm, allowing himself to be a little toy. Billy could recall a time after two rounds of sex, Steve was a little bit of a brat still, something that didn't happen often. He was whining about wanting a new toy for his playroom and Billy kept denying. Billy eventually grabbed one of the vibrators that they had in their sex toy chest, put it into his baby and grabbed a wad of fresh, clean hundred dollar bills and shoved it into his baby's mouth to prove a point. Daddy gets to decide what he spends money one. After the bills were in his mouth, Steve came all over himself. In the sight before him was still filthy. "Daddy." Steve's voice was low and a slight tremble. "I'm here, baby. Come on, get on the floor so we have more room." He began to strip of out his pants, folding them neatly so they could be washed properly later.

Steve got onto the floor with careful steps, his knees were shivering a little and looked like a little baby deer. He got down on his hands and knees in front of Billy like a good boy. "So cute." Billy got down behind Steve, he placed a careful hand on Steve's well spanked backside, "You look so beautiful baby, so good for daddy." Steve moaned at the feeling and bucked his hips a little bit.

Billy positioned himself to the other's tight hole and slowly slid in. The tightness and warmth engulfed him, even after all their time together Steve felt like a dream. He soon pushed in all the way. He began to move his hips, thrusting at a steady pace that caused the boy below him to moan. He took a hold of Steve's face and turned enough to they could kiss. The kiss was rough, he could taste the liquor and smoke on his baby's tongue. He came to the quick conclusion that he didn't like that. He liked when his baby tasted like sweet cherry lollipops and salty come, more appropriate things to keep his mouth around rather than a cigar or a glass of whiskey. "Daddy." Steve whined in the kiss. Billy soon moved his head away to the slender, smooth skin of his boy's neck. He began to kiss, suck and nip at the skin. Creamy skin turning hues of pink and red. He loved how his baby carried bites like that, always wearing shirts that showed them off. It only made him want to do it more and more. "Daddy, you're so big." "I know, baby, but you can take it so well. You always do because you know that you're a good boy. Such a good boy for me." Billy praised and Steve shivered under the weight of the words. He loved praise.

Steve whined and rolled his hips ever so slightly. Billy kept his hands firm on the other's hips to keep him place. "Daddy." "Behave, I know you're a little princess but right now you have to listen to your king. Remember, daddy is the king. You have to listen to me. Now let Daddy make both of us feel good." Steve nodded his head and cushioned his head on his arms as he felt every thrust radiate through his body. He wanted to be a good boy for his daddy, that's what craved. He craved Billy's approval. He loved the way the older man smiled at him and ran his fingers through his hair. He liked when they went to warm places for the winter, and loved when Billy didn't make fun of him for not finishing college.

"That's my good baby. You're allowed to come whenever you want" Billy encouraged. Steve whined, his cock was already hard again. Billy would joke however about how insatiable he was. He couldn't help it, how could he when his daddy was one Billy Hargrove, the embodiment of sexiness. He couldn't help but be turned on all the time, no matter how much training they do. Billy began to pick up the pace, he gripped onto Steve's hips a little tighter. Enjoying the hot tightness around his cock, his baby always felt amazing, no matter how many times or where they do it. It always breaks away at Billy's resolve, it was a drug that he couldn't get enough of. No amount of blow, liquor, smokes could give him that rush Steve gave him. His little boy, he found all sad with no money and not taking care of himself, with his daddy issues and blow job lips. Billy was immediately entranced by him. "Just like that daddy, thank you!" At least his boy knew some of his manners.

Steve continued to feel the rushes of pleasure trace up and down his body like a sick heat that made him whine for more. He loved his daddy's cock inside of him, he wanted it more and more. He knew he could be called every name in the book; greedy, bratty, spoiled, no good. But he couldn't give a shit, being the boy was allowed for him to have a daddy along with the finest things money could buy. It also didn't hurt that Billy could outspend his parents threefold. But, he stuck around because he got everything he wanted, not just shiny goods, but the affection he craved, the sex he needed and the attention he would do anything for. He had Billy's eyes on him how could he want anyone else? Billy moved as fast as he could, the thrusts were beginning to lose their rhythm. Steve felt so fucking good, he let out a shuddered breath as he continued to thrust, it was barely audible over his baby's loud moans. Steve was always a screamer... And a scratcher. He continued to mouth at the creamy expanse of Steve's throat, he could taste the sweat on his skin and the warmth under his pulse. "Oh daddy, please."

"That's it princess, always a pleaser. You like when daddy takes you like this don't you? You know that daddy could take you anywhere and you'd still bend over for him, exposing that cute little hole of yours. You let yourself get fucked by daddy often, isn't that right princess?" He bit a large mark on Steve's neck, feeling the tremble of the other's body under him, "You want to be a good boy don't you? I remember when I found you, you were so small, hungry not only for anything other than ramen, but also thick cock. With lips like those, you could've gotten into big trouble." "I could've." Steve weakly agreed. "I'm lucky that I found you then. You're safe with me, spoiled rotten and fucked throughly."  Billy emphasized with a hard thrust. "I'm lucky, I'm lucky!" Steve cried out. He was so close to orgasming again, the feeling was like a punch in the gut the second time around. Taking him off guard, but just as powerful. "Yeah, we're both lucky. You're such a good boy, you're a brat, but you're so good. You know that you look good on your knees, you know that you can take cock like a professional and you know that it will get you anything." "I won't get me everything." Steve whined. "Shh, shh, not arguing princess." Billy growled in his boy's ear. Steve nodded his head and bucked up his hips. He was so close to coming, he could feel the rush of pleasure pump through his veins. It was making him dizzy. With a few more careful thrusts, Steve was arching his back at the sensation. "That's it princess, that's it. Come for me, baby." Billy's voice was a low purr and it rippled through Steve's pleasure wrecked body.

Steve let out a loud moan and slumped onto hardwood floor, come smeared across his abdomen and the floor below. He let out a weak sigh. Billy kept his bottom half up as he continued to pound away at his hole. His body shivered at the aftershocks of pleasure bouncing through his body. Billy kissed the back of the other's head before he put all of his effort into fucking his boy. He could tell how wrecked the young man was under him, he could feel his own orgasm approaching. "That's it princess, that's it. So good for me, you know how to behave. You want sweet things, shiny things and come. Isn't that right?" Steve nodded his head, he couldn't argue with that. Those are all the things he wanted, plus some other things. But, at that moment his brain wasn't functioning enough to add them or even think about them. He made a low noise at the sound of Billy's praise. He was a good boy.

Billy continued his rough pace and gripped onto Steve's hips tightly as he did so. Everything felt wet, hot, dirty and it made Billy groan at the sensation, "Good boy, good boy. Fuck yeah princess." He could take n the sight of his wrecked baby forever, noticing the blush on his cheeks to the bites along his neck to his abdomen smeared with come. It was perfect, Steve was perfect. With a few more hard thrusts that pushed Steve further against the hardwood floor, Billy let out a loud, "Oh fuck!" before he came inside the younger man. He could hear Steve moan at the feeling of sticky come inside of him. After a few moments, Billy was able to catch his breath enough to slide out of Steve. He carefully placed his baby flat out on the floor. He kissed along his back through heavy breaths, still trying to catch it after the orgasm he had.

"Daddy." Steve mumbled. His head was still in a haze, his body still didn't feel like cooperating. "Yes, baby." Billy petted along Steve's hair, most of it now stuck to his forehead or the nape of his neck. It was still soft to the touch and comforted the boy. "I'm a good boy, right?" His voice was a small mumble. Billy kissed Steve's cheek, "Of course, always a good boy. You're a spoiled boy, but you're my spoiled boy. No one else can have you, you're all mine to take care of and make feel good." Steve moved a little bit, sitting upright and wincing at the cold hardwood against his reddened ass. He brought Billy's hand to his face and kissed the ring that he always wore, on the right hand ring finger, "You're mine too." Billy chuckled and pulled his boy into his lap carefully, "always yours. No matter how many times you disobey me. It means that I just have to train you better. Tonight, you're wearing the collar and the cock cage." "But daddy." "No buts, unless it’s over my knee and red. You might be behaving now, but I know that you like to get into trouble when I'm not looking." He kissed Steve's neck once more, "Do it for daddy." Steve slumped against him, "Fine." His arms crossed and pout across his lips, just like a little kid. A spoiled little kid. Billy took a moment to kiss Steve's lips an attempt to kiss the pout off of him. He held both of Steve's hands to his sides. He whispered in his baby's ear, "Come on, you were being so good. Don't be too spoiled right now and listen to daddy."

Steve tipped his head back to look at him, "But, daddy I made you feel good! I should get rewarded."

 "Do it for daddy." Billy warned again and kissed Steve again when his boy gave a small nod in agreement.

Steve knew he was a spoiled boy, after all daddy made him that way.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Build on Shaky Ground

For Pidge Ship Week 2017, Day 1:  Trust

Pairing:  Pidge/Lance - mostly platonic

Summary:  Sometimes Lance dangles the carrot of friendship in front of Pidge's face; sometimes Pidge refuses to take a bite.

Cross-posted to Ao3

Lance always insisted on asking Pidge to join him and Hunk - who never looked like he wanted to be there - in sneaking away from the Garrison campus and into the nearby town. Always, at least a few times a week, he knocked on her door, and asked - no, demanded Pidge join them for 'team bonding'.

And Pidge always refused, no matter the methods Lance used when trying to convince her.

(Somehow, he found out her love for peanut butter cookies; she still shudders when she remembers how hard it was to resist the bag he waved under her nose.)

Lance was stubborn, but Pidge being in the Garrison at all proved she could out-last him. Not that she would ever tell him that.

At some point though, she became...tempted. Because Lance gave up.

It was over a week since Lance and Hunk barged through her door, with Lance peeking over her shoulder while she rapidly slammed the screen shut. "What's the matter, Pidge?" Lance had asked, smirking. "Don't trust me?"

"Not at all," she said, staring him right in the eye so he knew she wasn't lying.

Lance's smirk vanished. "I see," he said. Then he smiled, though there was something hurt about the cast of his eyes. He waved his hand towards the doorway and said, "Let's go, Hunk. Pidge is as boring as ever."

Hunk followed, though not without glancing over his shoulder at Pidge. "You okay?" he wondered.

Pidge nodded, and Hunk didn't press.

There was that strange guilt churning in her stomach, guilt she never felt breaking into government facilities and stealing confidential files. But she felt guilty...about not trusting Lance?

No, she realized, rubbing the side of her face. She just felt bad about dismissing him like that; it wasn't her distrust that she felt bad for, it was her delivery when she admitted it.

She would have to apologize for it, she decided.

Pidge didn't have an opportunity to speak to Lance again until their shared lunch period the following day. Since Hunk had a different lunch period, he sat with a few other classmates she didn't recognize. He wasn't engaged in conversation with them though and only looked half-interested in the story being told by one of the others, idly picking at the congealed macaroni-and-cheese piled on his tray.

"Lance," she said, sliding into the space next to him.

He glanced sideways at her, then looked away. No greeting, no smile. "What do you want, Pidge?"

"I just...wanted to apologize," she said, the words sounding stilted to her ears. She wasn't used to expressing remorse. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

"But you meant it?" Lance asked.

Pidge stared at her hands, clenched into fists in her lap. "Yes," she admitted quietly.

"Why not?" He didn't sound angry so much as confused.

"I barely know you," she told him. She finally glanced up at his face, only to meet his eyes.

Lance flashed her a smile. "Pidge, that's your fault."

"What? How?" she demanded.

"Every time Hunk and I wanna hang out, we invite you," he pointed out. "And you always refuse." He climbed off the bench, bidding goodbye to his other friends, right as the bell rang for their next class period. "Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

"Okay," she said hollowly, stunned as she watched him walk away.

She hated that he was right.

---

And so began the temptation.

It was true, then, that one didn't know what they had until it was gone. And with Lance withholding his friendship from Pidge - who never wanted it in the first place - she realized how much she missed it.

Lance was making it clear that he didn't want any kind of relationship with Pidge unless she put in some effort too. And she could respect that.

It didn't mean she liked it.

Their scores in the flight simulator, already failing, got worse. Lance was terse with Pidge, and Pidge, in return, was short with him. And Hunk, who treated them both as warmly as he ever did, looked between the two of them entirely at a loss of what to do.

When Iverson accused Pidge of being an uncommunicative communications officer, she took it without protest, her face stony with acceptance.

It wasn't until a week after her botched apology passed that Pidge finally bit the bullet and knocked on the door to Lance's and Hunk's shared room.

"Hey Pidge," Hunk greeted her with a smile.

"Hi Hunk," she said, returning his smile. It eased some of her nerves, though she still wiped the sweat from the palms of her hands on her shorts. "Are you and Lance going into town tonight?"

Hunk glanced into the room over his shoulder; he was so broad, almost filling out the doorway, that Pidge saw nothing past him. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Lance hasn't wanted to go all week."

"Oh," said Pidge, blinking at him in surprise. She turned around. "I guess I'll just--"

"Wait!" Lance called from inside. And before Pidge could take a step, he shoved his way past Hunk and grabbed Pidge by the wrist. "Oh, we're going out tonight."

Pidge shook him off of her, and when he let go she asked, "What did you have in mind?"

---

It turned out that Lance was something of an escape artist, which really shouldn't have been a surprise considering how often he engineered his and Hunk's post-curfew escapades without them getting caught.

(Though there were times that they had, but their success rate was still high.)

Somehow, he managed to integrate Pidge into his scheme, finding corners and shadows for all three of them to hide in, ducking into empty classrooms and closets - a tight, uncomfortable fit, with her head tucked under Lance's chin and Hunk's elbow digging into her ribs - and dodging officers on patrol after hours.

Until finally, they escaped Garrison premises and were well on their way walking into town.

"So where do you go on these outings?" Pidge wondered, glancing at an arcade as they passed by - hopefully not too longingly. She thought she spotted a fellow Garrison classmate crouched over a pinball machine, another one standing nearby cheering her on.

"Anywhere really," said Lance. "We like to get out to stretch our legs."

"Like we can't do that at the Garrison," Hunk added, rolling his eyes.

"And we can't," Lance insisted. He finally stopped outside a gas station, looking inside. "Anyone want a Slurpee?" He pulled a squashed wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. "It's on me."

Hunk, who never declined any sort of nourishment (regardless of actual nutritional value), quickly agreed, while Pidge hesitantly tagged along. Even for something as harmless as a cheap drink, she didn't like the idea of owing Lance. But for the sake of whatever tenuous friendship they had, she accepted.

Soon enough, they were back on their way to the arcade. "Sometimes," Lance explained right outside the entrance, "we try to sneak into the eighteen-and-over club down the road." He nodded in that direction while sipping at his Coke slushie. "But with you..." Lance looked Pidge up and down. "Even if you had a fake ID, there's no way you're convincing."

Pidge, who doctored a copy of her brother's driver's license even before he left, smirked. "That's what you think," she said. She slurped loudly on her drink, which she'd drained enough that she mostly sucked air in through the straw.

"Really?" Lance said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I know you're seventeen, but you barely look fourteen, dude."

Pidge snorted. Another lie. "And what do you and Hunk do at a club?" she wondered, looking between the two of them.

Hunk had no drink since he'd finished his quickly (and probably gave himself a headache in the process), and he said, "Well, you know Lance..."

"Let me guess," said Pidge, crossing her arms. "You hit on girls that don't know to stay away from you."

"Hey!" said Lance, frowning. "I happen to be quite charming."

"It works sometimes," Hunk conceded.

Pidge, who had seen Lance in action and never saw his charm, snorted again. "I don't believe it," she said.

"Then I'll prove it," said Lance, holding out his hand. "How about a wager?"

"A...wager?" Pidge wondered, staring at the hand. For some reason, the sight of it brought to mind the cliche don't bite the hand that feeds you.

"Yeah," said Lance. "First one of us to get a phone number tonight wins."

Pidge tossed her empty Slurpee cup into a nearby trash can, then returned her attention to her teammates. She stared from Lance's hand to his face, then at Hunk, who shrugged; she would get no advice there.

"Fine," she said, resigned. "What happens if I lose?"

"If I win, I have a date, obviously," Lance said, winking at her.

Against all reason, Pidge felt heat claw up her neck. She scowled at him. "What if you get a fake number? Who wins then?"

Lance's face fell; apparently he hadn't considered that. But he bounced back quickly, his smile lighting up with a new idea. "Then that's how you win, Pidge."

Pidge thought...and thought. And decided. "If I win, you stop asking me to come out with you," she said.

He frowned at that. "Really?" he said. "You're still on that?"

Pidge shrugged. "If I'm interested, I'll do like tonight and ask to tag along," she said. "It has to be on my terms."

Lance stared at her. Something shifted in his face, and for the first time Pidge thought he might not be as easy to read as she initially thought. Then, he rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "We shake on it then?"

Pidge shook his hand, ignoring the stickiness from the syrup in his drink and how his hand was almost large enough to completely engulf hers.

(She hated how small she was sometimes.)

After the deal was made, Lance said, "So let's meet back here after we get our numbers, shall we?" He smirked at her.

Pidge sighed. "Fine," she said, not pointing out that the whole purpose for her accompanying him and Hunk was to spend time with her teammates, something she couldn't do if they went off to different ends of town.

Lance snidely wished her luck and left in the direction of the club he mentioned, Hunk right behind him. Pidge, meanwhile, decided to take her chances in the arcade since she was more likely to come across someone age-appropriate inside.

However, Pidge knew she had a major problem in this endeavor:  she hadn't a clue how to flirt, and though there was something to be said about learning by immitation, she knew Lance was the last person she wanted to emulate.

Which meant she was definitely a shoe-in to lose the wager.

Pidge bit her lip, wondering if maybe she could ask some girl to take pity on her. She thought a girl would probably be more sympathetic to her plight...at least until she remembered that she looked enough like a boy to fool the Garrison, and enough like a boy that a girl would be wary of giving out her phone number.

So much for sympathy.

Pidge didn't want to default on the wager though, despite her poor odds. No, the stakes were too high; she needed Lance - and Hunk, but mostly Lance - to stop bothering her in the evenings, and she needed to do it guilt-free.

While thinking of a possible solution, Pidge exchanged a five-dollar bill for quarters. She cycled through a number of games, playing Space Invaders and Pac-man and pinball almost mindlessly. Then, when Inky and Clyde together overwhelmed poor Pac-man for the last time in Level Seven, Pidge raised her eyes from the screen to a label on the machine.

A label including a local phone number to call for repairs if the machine broke down.

Pidge smirked to herself and grabbed a pen from her jacket pocket.

---

Lance loosely held her wrist as he inspected the number scrawled on her right hand. "Wow, I can't believe you beat me to it," he said, dropping her hand.

Pidge couldn't help the sly smile stretching across her face, even as she hid her hand behind her back. "You should've had more faith in me, Lance," she quipped.

Hunk also looked impressed, and even said to Lance, "Maybe you can learn from him, buddy."

Pidge made a face. "Eh, better not."

"So..." Now it was Lance's turn to smirk, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. "You gonna call her?"

Pidge laughed. "Are you kidding?" she said. "I can't call her."

"Why not?" asked Hunk.

"I got this number off of a Pac-man machine," Pidge admitted with a grin.

"Ah, Pidge," Lance said, a look of vindication crossing his face. "That's not how--"

"Nope," Pidge interrupted. "You stipulated a phone number. You never said how - or whose - I had to get it."

Lance frowned and glanced at Hunk, who shrugged and said, "He's right."

Then Lance laughed. "Okay, fine, you got me," he said. "A deal's a deal, so you...never have to see my face after dinner hour again."

Pidge, gratified, pretended not to notice the strain in his smile after that.

---

"So what do you do all evening that you'd rather do than go out with us?" Lance wondered, wandering to her open doorway a few nights later.

"Homework," Pidge lied, hoping she managed to make it sound convincing.

"Homework?" Lance said, leaning against her open doorframe. "I don't believe you."

"Well, believe it," said Pidge, pointing at her open physics textbook and her nearby <storebought> laptop - the heavy-duty computer she built already stuffed into her backpack, ready for her to sneak up to the roof.

"Well, all right then," Lance finally said, shrugging and - blessedly - leaving.

Pidge, relieved, sighed, but she doubted he believed her, and not just because he'd said as much. Which was fine. She didn't need him to buy her lies, only to not call her out on them. Again.

Ever since she'd gone out with him and Hunk, and ever since she won their wager through a technicality, Lance was...well, she couldn't say it was as bad as it was before she snuck into town with them, but she wasn't sure their relationship had actually improved.

No, Lance was downright polite to her now, their friendship bordering on formality. Professional, she might say, if Lance was capable of being professional.

At least their flight simulation scores had improved, though they were still within the margin of failure.

She had to hand it to Lance though; thanks to their single shared escapade off of Garrison premises, Pidge was much more confident in her ability to sneak up onto the roof without being detected.

---

Pidge took advantage of her next physics class - which focused on aerodynamics - to drill their teacher on the materials and design of the shuttle used in the Kerberos mission.

Professor Montgomery narrowed her eyes at Pidge. "Most of that information is classified, Cadet," she said carefully, "and also off-topic. We're discussing air resistance and terminal velocity, something more basic than materials or shuttle design." She turned her back to the class and continued deriving equations.

Pidge gritted her teeth. If she'd used her real high school grades rather than false ones, she would be in the same upper level physics course as Hunk; as it was, this was one of the classes she shared with Lance.

He sat two rows back and a few seats over from her, and she thought she felt his eyes on the back of her head, sharp and observant.

This wasn't the first time Pidge had steered a class discussion towards the Kerberos mission, but it was the first time she was conscious of Lance watching her so closely.

"So...the Kerberos mission, huh?" Lance asked her after class. It was the last of the day, so he seemed to make it a point to walk back towards their dormitory with her. It was also the first time he'd sought her out since...well, since their outing.

"What about it?" Pidge gritted out, clutching her physics textbook close to her chest.

"It's not the first time you've mentioned it in class," Lance observed. "Also, smart kid like you? You're probably not doing it just because you're curious."

Pidge blushed, remembering the time she'd asked her programming teacher for details 'out of curiosity'. But Lance wasn't in that class, so how did he know about that? Unless...

"You and Hunk talk about me when I'm not there?" she demanded, halting in her tracks.

"Yes, yes we do," Lance admitted shamelessly, stopping along with her. "And you know what? The way you're freezing us out is getting old."

"I'm not freezing you--"

"You are," Lance interrupted, prodding her shoulder. "You only went out with us the other night to appease me, Pidge. I'm not an idiot."

No, he was not that, Pidge was starting to realize, though he acted like one sometimes. "And why does it matter to you?" she asked, stiffening her shoulders and glaring at him.

"Maybe because we're a team?" he said. "Maybe because you're not acting like a teammate should?"

Pidge scowled. "I talk to you, don't I? I'm walking with you now."

"The bare minimum," Lance retorted, crossing his own arms.

Fellow cadets gawked at them as they passed, but they might as well have been invisible for all the attention Pidge cared to pay them.

"So what is going on, Pidge?" Lance said.

"It has nothing to do with you," Pidge hissed, leaning towards him.

"Are you sure?" Lance demanded, glaring. "How can we be a team if you don't trust us? What if you need help?"

Pidge refused to back down. "I don't need help from you," she retorted, "and I can trust you without telling you everything about me, Lance."

"Oh really?" he said, sounding snide in that way she hated. "Explain how."

Pidge knew, from both his words and Hunk's, that Lance had a large family, and she knew in that vague, abstract way that it was difficult to keep secrets in a large family. Not that she thought she and Lance were family, but he and Hunk practically were. Which was how she deduced he couldn't understand her need to keep some things guarded close to her chest, away from anyone else's prying eyes. And it wasn't just that she wasn't actually a seventeen-year-old boy named Pidge Gunderson. It was that she didn't like sharing all the pieces of herself, even with her closest friends.

Then again, she didn't even have any close friends, no, not aloof Pidge Gunderson.

"I can trust you with my life," she said carefully, tasting every word before saying it, "without trusting you with my secrets."

Lance stared at her, his expression frozen into a glare, but he seemed to be contemplating her words. Then he shrugged, sighing. "Fine," he said. "If that's how you want to do it, then I guess that's good enough. See you in the simulator, Pidge." He turned around and walked down the hall to his room. When he stood in the doorway, he paused, his head twitching as if he wanted to look back but instead stopped himself.

Once he was inside her own room, Pidge slammed her door shut. She slumped into her desk chair, the echo of his last words to her - her own words from when she first met him and Hunk - still playing in her head.

"I'm not here to make friends," Pidge reminded herself. "And I can't trust anyone with this." As she gathered her newly built computer and scanning equipment into her backpack, she pushed Lance from her mind.

It would be fine. She didn't need to trust her teammates so closely.

She only wished she could believe it.