#I was supposed to spend all day drawing cody and then doing work for my job which I will now have to do later tonight and then tomorrow

[asexualjedi]

Read two (2) books today yet struggled to get like any reading done for law school bc I kept falling asleep when doing so and having to go back to reading a like fiction book to wake up but then I’d get lost on the sauce and read like half the damn book before being like oh yeah lol home work. Smh. Curse u me. Like some of this si my meds making it so I can’t think good and my anxiety meds too strong so like don’t care about consequences as much but damn I thought I had more self control. Also the being able to read fiction but not stuff for school but also sometimes will still pass out while reading fiction so it’s really a roll of the dice if I will stay awake at any given time shit sucks.

[detroitbydark]

Chp 13

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: that one time Padme throws a big party, Bly cracks jokes, fox hates himself some more, mouse wears matching underwear, and Anakin has a heart to heart.

A/N: Snuggle up Fox Fanciers this boy is stupid long and full of yearning on a level I didn’t know I could yearn. You’ve been warned!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being my sounding boards and supporters in all this. Love you ladies! 😘

————

“For the love of the Force…” Mouse curses quietly. Padmé was never going to let her live this one down. She turns, admiring herself in the floor length mirror. The kriffing dress was perfect. Like, absolutely perfect. Had she not lost a few kilos since Coruscant she may not have even fit it to begin with but she had and it did and it was all that mattered at the moment.

It was easier to admire the stunning red dress clinging to each curve, cutting off just below her knees than it was to think about him. Yeah, knowing Fox was going to be there and seeing him were two entirely different things. Seeing him had felt… complicated. 

There had been a split second when she’d first laid eyes on him in that door, bucket slung under his arm, that she would have done anything he asked just to be near him. The loss she’d felt the first few days on Naboo was nothing in comparison to what she felt when he’d entered the Senator’s office. It was a blessing to be holding Leia, to have Luke as an excuse to leave as soon as she could. 

She couldn’t think with him there. Her first instinct had always been to radiate to him, even before she’d really understood that was what she was doing. Fighting that instinct was hard and it hurt, but she didn’t think she had it in her to be that girl anymore. She didn’t know if she could give all of herself again and again to be pushed away when he got scared. 

Padmé had said all the activity would be just a few days and then they’d be back to normal. Mouse just had to survive. She’d gotten good at that.

On the way out the door she questions retrieving a shawl. She’d be eating with warriors, battle hardened soldiers. She doubts their delicate sensibilities would be thrown into a tizzy by the sight of her scars. Maybe the more delicate socialites and their wives, but she doesn’t much care for their opinions.

She reaches up to touch the skin of her shoulder as an afterthought. It wasn’t the appearance so much as the feel of it she didn’t like. She hated rubbing the lotion into it, the almost rubbery feeling of the proliferative tissue there, but the doctors had said it was important to keep it softened to prevent it from tightening and contracting over the joint. So, two to three times a day, Mouse let go of her own uneasiness and pressed the special lotion into the skin, rubbed and massaged until the skin was pink with irritation.

The walk to the grand dining room is short and Mouse's heels echo softly down the large hallway. She can hear the conversation before the doors are even opened for her, punctuated by deep, masculine laughter. She’s fashionably late and Padmé raises a brow from her spot across the room. Mouse offers an apologetic smile and the senator returns it. Anakin stands a foot behind his wife. His attention is split between watching her and conversing with his former master. 

It’s odd seeing the Jedi, both men, in formal wear. Tuxes just don’t look quite right on them. That’s not to say they don’t cut striking figures - General Kenobi would have his choice of Coruscanti society girls if he marched around the capitol like that. It's just a little wrong to see the Jedi not in their robes.

“Sweetling!” The deep rumble drags her attention from the senator who returns to speaking with the men in front of her, neither of whom Mouse recognizes.

“Marshall Commander,” she greets, turning and accepting a soft kiss on the cheek as Cody draws near.

“Mous’ika,” he chides, using the name he’d obviously heard somewhere.

“Yes, Cody?” she asks sweetly, managing to hold in her giggle until he laughs.

“That’s more like it! How have you been?” 

Mouse falls into conversation with the Commander of the 212th. They’d met a handful of times now since she’d arrived in Naboo. The Commander had accompanied his Jedi on more than a few visits and while General Kenobi was spending time with his former Padawan, Cody had taken to having tea with Mouse and Padmé. He was a steady man who loved to gossip over holodramas and sip herbal tea. In another life maybe, Mouse could picture him as a professor, or maybe the owner of a bookshop. Something quiet, studious.

A server makes the rounds as they chat and Cody plucks a flute from a tray and hands it to her. She takes it with thanks. The bubbles tickle her tongue as she takes a drink. Something prickles at the periphery of her senses and she glances around, trying to figure it out what it might be. She shakes off the feeling and gives her full attention to the Marshall Commander in front of her.

“This isn’t either of our particular scenes, I believe. We’ve got to blend in somehow.” He holds up his own tumbler in show, amber liquid and round cubes of ice rolling around in its confines.

“That’s very true. I was afraid I’d get here and be relegated to a wallflower.”

“As if Padme would allow that,” he scoffs.

Mouse laughs again. “Are you always right, Cody?”

“Ask General Kenobi.”

Music plays quietly, a string quartet from Coruscant flown in for just the night, as Mouse falls in at Cody’s side. A few troopers  in dress greys stop to chat for a moment here and there and Mouse dutifully smiles and offers polite conversation, laughs at the appropriate times. She recognizes some here and there, a scar or tattoo sticking out in her memory, all Commanders with the occasional Lieutenant thrown in for color. She feels the sensation again and can finally place it. It’s as if someone is watching her. Cody offers her a questioning look as she glances around again. She flashes a smile and shrugs. She was being silly. No one was watching her.

“Are you still sponsoring the little girl on Coruscant?” Cody asks, making polite conversation.

“Me’kar? Yes, I actually just received a comm from her guardian the other day. She’s doing well, picking up basic incredibly fast.” Mouse had started sponsoring the child shortly after her arrival, not able to get her bright smile and sweet eyes out of her mind. It wasn’t uncommon for the children’s home to accept sponsorships to supplement the small stipends they received from the Republic. It cost money to keep the children dressed and fed and extras could be more than the budget allotted for. Mouse was more than happy to do it and the updates and occasional holo from the little girl were bright notes in her week.

“Have you given more thought to adopting her?” Cody asks knowingly, as if it was a forgone conclusion.

“I’m still thinking.” Mouse shrugs. It wasn’t a decision to take lightly, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl and what it would be like to come home to her everyday, to be a mother to a child that needed one. She’d once harbored a silly dream of a family with one clone commander and little Me’kar playing a starring role. Now she still thought of a family, but maybe just of two and not three. Cody glances over her shoulder, a smile splitting his features. Mouse turns and sees, arguably, the most beautiful Twi’lek woman in the galaxy wrapped in a body contouring dress that looks nearly painted on. 

“Have you met General Secura? Let me introduce you. She may be able to answer some of the questions you have.”

———

Aayla Secura was wonderful. Mouse found herself completely enthralled with the twi’lek woman as she spoke of Ryloth, customs, and traditions. The Jedi didn’t think her idea of adopting Me’kar to be improper and encouraged her. Family was important for her people and she didn’t believe any child should grow up without the opportunity to have one.

“I would encourage you to fill out whatever application needs to be started immediately. Bring the little one here or raise her on Coruscant, either way it sounds like you’ve been thinking a great deal on it. You’ve asked such important questions. The rest is all just figuring things out as you go.”

Mouse can’t help the bright smile she flashes. Aayla glances over her shoulder as Mouse takes a swallow of her second glass of bubbly. It’s sweet on her tongue and reminds her of Fall orchard fruits, crisp and delightful. She’s just a little bit more relaxed than she’d been an hour ago as the alcohol works to relax her nerves when she thinks she feels eyes again. She’s quick to laugh it off as nerves - she hadn’t been around so many people in ages.

“Have you met my Commander Bly yet?”

Mouse wonders on “my” for a moment, but as soon as the Commander is at the Jedi’s side she wonders no more. He stands close, closer than to be expected and his hand rests along the cutout in the Jedi’s dress for just a moment longer than is proper as he greets her. 

“I’m rounding up stragglers, sir,” he says with a half smile, turning and offering Mouse a nod. She holds out a hand and Aayla introduces her. Bly has a moment when his brows twitch up in unison before he takes her hand and shakes it gently. “If you ladies would care to, I believe we're supposed to take our seats for dinner.”

Bly offers his arm to his general and she slips hers through it, allowing him to guide her. Mouse follows a half a step behind as they move to the grand hall. Large round tables are set up under sparkling chandeliers. Mouse tries to break off to a smaller one, out of the way and to the side of the room, but it seems Cody has taken up the rear behind the trio. He takes her arm gently as she tries to veer off.

“I believe you were assigned a seat of importance, Sweetling.”

Mouse shakes her head. She really was only here because Padmé wouldn’t hear of her not being there. She tries to explain to Cody as Bly glances over his shoulder. A look passes between the two troopers.

“I’m sure there’s at least one seat left at the head table.” 

Mouse watches as Aayla gives her Commander a questioning look. She swears she sees him wink.

She’s not watching where he guides her, still gently trying to plead her case. She looks to her left and sees Padmé smiling brightly and knows she won’t back her up in her decision to hide in the shadows. Cody pulls the chair out for her as she offers him a grumpy look. He chuckles and captures her hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Mouse feels her cheeks flame, too flustered to come up with anything in response. She doesn’t pay attention to the set of greys next to her as Cody nods and she slides into her seat. Not until he walks to his own seat beside General Kenobi does Mouse turn to introduce herself.

And comes face to face with the Commander of the Coruscant Guard.

Fox is leaned back in his seat, brow raised in her direction. He radiates slow simmering irritation.

“I- I’m sorry” she doesn’t know why she’s apologizing. She had nothing to do with this. Her eyes dart around frantically trying to find any other option, an escape, but all the other seats are full and the last of the guests are taking their places at the other tables. If she got up now she’d only draw more attention to herself.

Fox says nothing as he turns back to his drink and Bly on his other side. Mouse stares down at her plate, her stomach already twisting into knots. She throws back her drink, downing the rest in one swallow. A passing waiter offers her another and she readily accepts. Maybe if she’s just a little bit drunk this wouldn’t be so bad. 

Padmé clears her throat and all eyes fall to where she stands at the head of their table. She’s resplendent, of course, in a loose cream gown that drapes her in the most eye pleasing of ways. Even if she didn’t have an air about her that demanded attention, her wardrobe choice alone would have done the job.

“I’d like to begin by thanking everyone for their company on this lovely evening. As I’m sure you’ve heard,” she says as if she’s letting the room in on a grand secret, “we’ve recently welcomed our first children into the world.” The small gathered crowd laughs as if on cue. Mouse glances to the other tables. She didn’t know faces, but she’d dutifully typed all the names into the guest list Padmé had dictated. They were some of the most influential individuals in the outer rim. Padmé has thought to treat this evening as a soft unveiling of the plan she’d eventually propose to the senate. It was a test crowd of her peers. She’d use their reaction to modify and gauge where to go from here.

“Now,I find being a mother is much like being a senator. There is always something that needs doing and a mother’s work, much like a senators, is never done.” She offers a smile as she glances from one side of the room to the other. 

“The men and women I have invited here today,” she gestures to the clones and Jedi around her “are very familiar, also, with work that never seems to be done. These are the Marshall Commander and Commanders who keep the Grand Army of the Republic afloat. They and their men risk their lives for a Republic which has given them nothing in return, and for that,” Padmé gives a gentle smile around the table, “I want to be the first to openly admit that we have done them a grave disservice.” 

Mouse glances to see the wait staff lining up along the walls with the first course. She really does try to pay attention to what the senator has to say, but Fox is so close. She can imagine she wouldn’t have to move far to be back against his chest, feel his hot breath against her skin. Maybe he’d wrap his arm around her, hold her tight, whisper sweet things in her ear-

Maker, she was pathetic. Her stomach turns in agreement.

“Throughout this evening I hope each and every one of you enjoy yourselves, and I also hope that you take a moment to give these brave men some of the gratitude that we, as a Republic, have denied them for far too long. Something I hope we will begin to change in the not so distant future.”

Polite clapping erupts as staff circles the tables and places the first course in one impressively synchronized movement. As Padmé sits, her husband leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. Mouse looks away.

The food looks good. Or at least it should. Mouse had helped pick out the menu herself. Crudité, a small salad of exotic fruit, a light dressing. It should be perfect. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it if the sound of silver clinking against china meant anything. She takes a bite and chews carefully - it has all the depth and flavor of sawdust.

“I didn’t realize you had a type.” 

Mouse glances at Fox who is firmly staring at his own plate, chewing as if nothing is amiss. He’d always looked good in his greys but he looks utterly delicious now. His hair is longer and his face is shaved clean of its usual five-o’clock shadow. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t take you for a trooper chaser.”

The food very nearly gets stuck in her throat as she attempts to swallow. She takes a pull of wine from her glass, coughing lightly.

“Everything ok, Mous’ika?” Cody asks from across the table, concern evident.

Retrieving her napkin from her lap, Mouse covers her next cough. “I’m fine, Cody.” She tries to give him a reassuring look from behind the fabric. “Must have forgotten to chew,” she jokes awkwardly. At her side Fox makes a low sound. Cody glances between the pair of them for a moment before turning back to General Kenobi at his side.

“Cody,” Fox says, and Mouse catches the quick flash of brown eyes. “I seem to remember it took nearly a year for you to say my name. You’re moving faster.”

“Why are you saying this?” she questions. Why would he think such a thing? She hadn’t done anything that deserved such an accusation. He shrugs before turning to Bly and asking him a question about field munitions.

It leaves Mouse's head spinning. No one else seems to notice as they all speak quietly to one another.

“Commander Bly? General Secura?” Bail looks to the other side of the table and the pair. “What are your feelings on Senator Amidala’s personhood bill I sent you?”

 “Far be it from me to dislike a law that makes me human,” Bly cracks. A round of laughter rises among the other troopers present. Aayla rolls her eyes at her Commander in an unmistakably fond way.

“What I believe the Commander is trying to say Chancellor, is that it is a more than welcome change to the status quo.”

“I was trying to say that?”

“Yeah, the vocabulary seems a bit past him,” Fox cracks dryly. 

Aayla looks from one to the other. “Force I wish General Koon and Commander Wolffe could have been here. Maybe than you’d remember how to behave.”

“The ori’vod is the one who taught us,” Bly offers with faux indignation.

Obi-wan manages to smother a chuckle, though a smile still tugs at his lips. “Master Plo Koon sends his deepest apologies. The Wolffe pack is still firmly entrenched on their mission and he didn’t feel it appropriate to leave them.”

There’s a general consensus of agreement among the group. Mouse catches General Kenobi's occasional glances around the table, the majority of them falling between Commander Bly and his General.

“Senator Amidala,” he begins, his voice pensive, “How do you propose to introduce your personhood bill?”

Padmé gives a warm smile. She’d been waiting for this; Mouse can tell by the way her eyes sharpen and the slight quickening of her voice. “I think we need to show the public that it’s not only the GAR that stands behind the Clones, but also the Jedi Order as well.”

Mouse makes a small sound of dissent, feeling Fox adjust next to her.

“Mous’ika?” Cody questions, “Do you not agree with the senator?” Mouse looks embarrassed as she glances Padmé’s way, but the senator looks more curious than anything. Mouse gathers her thoughts while she finishes her glass of wine. A passing server goes to refill the glass but, at her side, Fox waves him off. She wants to glare at him, but all eyes are on her, waiting.

“I’m no politician, so I’m not sure my opinion should amount to anything,” she begins, “but general public opinion about the Jedi Order is not…” She looks apologetically at the few Jedi at the table “Well, it’s not good right now.”

There’s some concerned looks flying her way. Bless. It was easy to miss what was happening at home when one was in a war zone the majority of the time. 

She reaches for where her wine should be and grabs a glass of water that hadn't been there a moment ago. She takes a sip before speaking again.

“It would be a poor decision to align solely with the Order on this one, I feel. Just a look at the holonews and you’ll see articles and op-eds questioning the Jedi’s involvement in the war.”

Fox clears his throat.

“She’s right” How sweet it was to hear those words. “We’re dealing with domestic terrorism on an unprecedented level. Nothing that we can’t handle but it’s something to take into consideration. The public feels like the Order has overstepped its bounds. It lacks policing of its own.” Fox holds up his hand when Obi-wan goes to speak. “While that may not be the case, in the court of public opinion the Order is guilty more than it is not.”

Mouse can feel him looking at her, handing the reins back over. “The average Coruscanti already is apprehensive of such a large military force within their presence. It’s going to take some doing to convince them to see the troopers as anything but soldiers awaiting orders” she finishes diplomatically.

There are speculative looks and nods around the table. “Much to think about,” Bail agrees, taking a slow sip of wine. His eyes linger between her and Fox for far longer than she likes. “Thank you.”

Mouse nods, her cheeks glowing hot from the attention. Her hand brushes against Fox’s as she sets it back down on the table. Her fool’s heart skips a beat when he doesn’t pull away immediately. She fights the urge to lace her little finger with his. Luckily, the next course comes and they both have to adjust to the changing of plates.

Her stomach is still turning in loops and food is still not something that sounds appealing in the slightest as the main course comes out. She doesn’t even remember what it’s supposed to be. It looks like it was probably delicious, roasted meat and delicate fresh vegetables sautéed to perfection. She takes a few testing bites but her plate remains mostly untouched.

“Quit pushing your food around and eat”. Of course she hasn’t forgotten Fox is sitting next to her. It must have been too much to hope he had forgotten about her. 

Again, when she glances his direction he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. She doesn’t acknowledge he’s said anything and listens in quietly as the others at the table chat. 

She takes another bite and chews slowly before swallowing.

“Come on, another,” he says. This time something is softer about his voice. When Mouse looks she sees him glancing at her. 

Her chest tightens uncomfortably. Why did she give him the power to do this?

“Mouse.” 

She thinks for a moment that she just might be imagining things. Under the table Fox’s booted foot knocks softly against hers letting her know she wasn’t. This wasn’t fair. 

“Eat.” It’s a soft plea. He didn’t get to be soft with her anymore. He didn’t get to give orders. He’d lost those privileges.

“I’m not hungry.” 

Fox’s head turns slowly at her words. “You could have fooled me. You look like a strong wind could blow you away.”

“Let it go, Commander. You're being ridiculous,” she manages to whisper under her breath. She doesn’t realize the table has gone quiet, that half a dozen or more pairs of eyes are watching them. Fox hasn’t either.

“There are faster ways to kill yourself than starvation. I’m sure you remember at least one other way.” The sudden acid in his voice hides the sound of frustration and strikes a direct hit.

Mouse has never considered herself a dramatic person, far from it really. So the rapidly rising urge to turn and punch him in the eye comes as a surprise. The anger behind it is soon replaced by mortification when she realizes that everyone has gone quiet.

Cody’s jaw is set into a tight line, the antithesis of Bly’s slackened one. Both Aayla and Bail are staring down at their plates. Mouse doesn’t look at the others.

Fox is frozen at her side, unmoving and unspeaking. Horror is dawning in his eyes as she pulls the napkin off her lap and places it in her still full plate.

His hand fumbles reaching for hers under the table but she skitters out of his reach.

“If you’ll excuse me?” She addresses the gathered group, “I’ll be back shortly.” Hot angry tears are already starting to swell in her eyes as she pushes away from the table and makes her way from the great room. She manages to keep it together until she’s in the guest wing. She doesn’t slide to the floor in a heap til she’s in her room.

She doesn’t return to dinner.

————

 “You know I remember it all.”

The words catch Fox by surprise. He picks up the tumblr resting along the stone terrace wall and takes a drink as he looks at the Jedi - former Jedi- he didn’t even know what Anakin Skywalker was anymore.

“Congratulations?” Bitterness is already brewing in his gut. First Mouse and now this? Could it get any worse? Could a man not drink away his self-loathing in peace?

“The first time I met the Chancellor I was a child, but I remember it like it was just this morning. He smiled at me. It was like having someone see me for the first time. Like my Mother. Like Qui-Gon-“

Fox isn’t in the mood for this. 

“-as I got older his attention focused on me. He honed me. Groomed me for something-“

“That’s great, sir, really.” He’d failed to hold back his acidic comments when Mouse had been near. Now that it was Skywalker he doesn’t even care to try.

“Shift it Fox and listen to what the kriff I’ve got to say.”

Fox brings the glass to his lips and finishes it in one long, slow pull before taking it and throwing it out into the placid lake below. It would have felt better had it smashed. The urge to break something has been simmering on the back burner all night. Skywalker was bringing it to a rapid boil. 

“And what are you trying to say Jetii? Your life story means to me about as much as sith spit.”

Something dangerous flares in the other man’s eyes. “We’re the same, you and I.”

Fox barks a laugh, a bitter stagnant sound as he feigns turning away for just a moment only to spin right back. “You and I are nothing alike. Are you one of millions? Does your order see you as interchangeable battle fodder? Tell me your serial number, sir.”

“Your loyalty is unquestionable. You would do anything for the people you care about.” Anakin seems undeterred by Fox’s growing ire. “We both love women who are far stronger than we gave them credit for-“

“Shut up.” Fox’s voice is low, a warning growl from a wounded animal. He’d already hurt someone he’d claimed to love, said something ugly and cruel. It wouldn’t take much effort to get him to throw a swing against the man in front of him.

“-we think we know best. Sometimes we do. Then we let our own ego get in the way and we hurt the ones we love with our good intentions.”

“What about shut up don’t you understand?” Fox takes a step forward, chest out. He wants this to escalate. 

“What I don’t understand is how you can take a girl like her and purposefully hurt her. I watched her put a blaster to her-“

“ENOUGH!” Any cool Fox had left vanishes as he closes the space between them. His finger jabs into the other man’s chest, punctuating his point. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to talk about that night.” 

How dare he. In the end, who was he but Sidious’s favorite lap dog? Rage boils over as Anakin steps into the jabbing finger, making Fox take an unwanted step back.

“Yeah? You want to go there? Pretty sure I remember being there just as much as you were. I was also there when your blaster killed Fives.”

Fox can’t hide the way he flinches at the name. 

Anakin takes a slow even breath before he speaks again. “Fox, I’m not going to say I didn’t want to turn the damn thing on you and put two through your composite -Jedi way be damned- but I can look back and remember what your face looked like. When you stepped in the corner where you didn’t think anyone could see? You didn’t want to shoot Fives. You didn’t want to kill your brother.”

Fox closes his eyes, tipping his head up toward the night sky.

“She knew that too-“

“You think I don’t realize what she was doing? You think I don’t realize she was ready to sacrifice herself so I didn’t have to kill someone else I - “ He opens his eyes focusing back on the Jedi. 

“But you didn’t feel her in the Force like I did. I was as much of a mess as any of us but you know what I felt coming from her?”

Fox shakes his head. He doesn’t want to know.

“Resolve. Love and resolve. She would have done anything to keep you safe. She was the only steady one of us all.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He’d seen it in Mouse’s eyes, that decision she’d made and would have followed through with. For him. The nightmares where she had to follow through still found him, the ones with her wide eyes staring up blank and glassy while smoke rose in tendrils from her head.

“Because we're the same. Our love was used as fuel for manipulation. It was a tool to gain our compliance. I saw a future where Padmé died. Over and over and Palp- Sidious made me think I could stop it. If I did what he said I could stop it all. Then he was dead and I still had the dream. But you know what? She would have died at my hands because of me, because of my blind, fumbling attempt to prevent it in the first place and my children -” Emotion swells in his voice.

“When I watched you tonight, when I heard what you said, I saw those very blind steps I had been taking all over again. Stop it, Fox. She doesn’t deserve it.” Anakin stops and takes a deep breath, 

“You don’t deserve it. Let the pain stop.”

Fox drags himself away from the Jedi, turning his back to stare out at the expanse of water below. “There’s no fixing what I’ve done”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“And I think you’re a fool.”

———-

Fox feels spent. Physically and emotionally exhausted, riding the fallout of an adrenaline surge down to rock bottom after his confrontation with Skywalker.

He’s ready for bed. He needs a solid six hours of sleep. Maybe a coma? 

He wasn’t pleased with the continued attempts by others to force something with Mouse that was obviously not meant to be. He wasn’t pleased with his own behavior in response to it. He wasn’t a Hutuun, but he had certainly acted like one. Honestly, he'd rather take the butt of a blaster to his head as opposed to thinking about it anymore. 

He tried to think of something else. Personhood. Not in a million lifetimes did Fox think someone as powerful as the Chancellor of the Republic or one of its most brilliant senators would take up the torch for him and his brothers. It was bound to be a controversial bill but after listening to Bail and Padmé speak, it didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was a real possibility that the end of the war wasn’t going to mean the proverbial scrap heap. The end of the war could mean citizenship, recognition, lives outside of battle and the GAR. 

The thought left him a little lightheaded - or maybe that was the Alderaanian wine that had been flowing. 

He tries to rein in his excitement at the thought. If Fox had learned one thing in his time in Coruscant and among politics it was that politicians were exceptionally good at dragging their shebs when it came to anything good. It would require finesse and more than a little debate for the good Senator to see her plans to fruition. If anyone could do it, it was Padmé. The time frame in which she could do it was up for debate. Fox raises a brow as he looks down the hall. If the sound coming from General Secura’s room meant anything, there was some very brisk debating going on between the General and her Commander. 

Fox tries not to look at Mouse’s door as he goes to his own. He tries not to think about what personhood would mean for his vode that had broken regs and found something to fight for outside of the GAR.

 Fox is  barely in his door, already bending to remove his boots when he hears it, a soft plaintive voice in the hall. It’s instantly familiar. He’s already cursing himself. He’d done enough to her tonight. Obviously, he’d proven that he couldn’t be in the same room without hurting her. He hears her voice again and he’s pulling the door open without a second thought. 

Mouse is leaning half in the hallway. “Hello?”

The disaster that had been dinner flashes in his mind's eye as do Skywalker’s words from a short time ago.

Let the pain stop.

Clearing his throat, he steps into the hall.

“Oh Maker...” it’s not the exact thing he was hoping to hear as she laid eyes on him, but he’s sure it’s no less than he deserves. “It had to be you, didn’t it?”

Fox gives her an appraising look. Her cheeks were hot and flushed even before she’d seen him and the gown she’d worn to dinner is still firmly in place. Her gentle eyes are rimmed in red. She looks just as stunning as she had a few hours ago. 

The foundation his resolve has been built upon continues to crumble.

He chides himself. That foundation had never been strong, not when he’d asked Bail to transfer her, not when he’d seen her in her hospital room, certainly not when she’d given him the cold shoulder earlier when they’d arrived. It seemed everything about Mouse worked to destroy the barrier he’s tried to erect between them.

“What’s wrong?” He asks gruffly. He’s tired from travel and of the mental gymnastics he’d been putting himself through. Mostly though he was tired of feeling like he was fighting with both her and himself.

Mouse's eyes dart each way down the hallway as if looking for someone else to save the day. She isn’t that lucky. A particularly loud moan coming from Secura’s room emphasizes that point.

“My dress-“ a new wave of red blooms in her cheeks, “the zipper is stuck. I’ve been trying for nearly an hour and…” She glances down at the floor and her bare feet. He hates that she won’t look at him but he’s done nothing to earn that honor now has he?

He huffs taking a breath and a leap. “If you don’t hate the idea of my help, I’m willing to offer it.”

Mouse's eyes slowly rise back to his. “I-“ she’s making a decision as well. He can see it written across her face. Maker, he thinks, please give me this one chance.

“Yes. Please.” She stutters out her answer, pulling away from the door frame and moving into the suite. She glances over her shoulder as she moves as if she’s afraid he wouldn’t actually follow.

Mouse stops near a small dressing table with brushes and makeup laid out on its top. A full size mirror is immediately to its side. She watches him in the reflection. It’s the first time since the hospital on Coruscant that Fox has been alone with her. That feels like so long ago, another life and time. They’re two different people now.

He steps carefully into her space as if one off movement would spook her and this would all end. This close he can smell the soft floral perfume she’s dabbed on. He can feel the heat radiating from her. Equal parts comfort and temptation rolled in one. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says suddenly. Skywalker’s words haunt him. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.” Mouse’s head cocks to the side as she watches him.

“Why did you then? I’m certainly not Cody’s type and-“

“And what?”

She steals herself. Fox can see the deep breath she takes before she speaks again, “even if I was, my interest will always lie elsewhere.”

The meaning of her words strike home. “Me? After everything?”

“It was always you.” She admits softly.

She still- she still cared for him? After everything?  After he’d nearly killed her. After he left her maimed. After he pushed her away over and over. 

More of the wall crumbles. All he’d have to do now is take one big step and he could be over it.

“So, this zipper you were talking about?” He deflects, needs another minute to think because there's too much to sort through and he can’t make more mistakes. Not with Mouse. Not with them.

She nods softly toward her left side, pulling her arm forward to show the jammed apparatus. Fox closes his eyes. Her scars stand proudly from under the thin straps of her dress. When he opens them he catches Mouse watching him in the reflection, her look is sad. 

“I can find someone else-“ 

His hand immediately drops to her hip as she tries to walk away, pulling her back and erasing the laughable space in between them. The shock shows on both of their faces.

“Easy,” he manages, and after a moment she settles against him. His thumb rubs small circles over her waist and he’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe her or himself. “I’m just coming up with a plan of action.” That draws a small smile from her but it’s all the encouragement he needs. “You need help taking your hair down?” He turns his head, the tip of his nose brushing against the soft strands still secured in their up-do.

 It’s an absolute sithshit question, she had two working arms she could remove all the pins and clips herself, they both know this. Fox just wants- he wants more time. He wants to be ready to look at the damage he’s done and not feel repulsed by it. To maybe, just maybe, not hate himself when he looks at it.

“I- yeah, that would be helpful.” She says quietly after a moment. She sits on the stool in front of the mirror, her eyes following his actions with apprehension and curiosity. Fox takes a steadying breath and begins. 

He’s never done this before, that is to say done anything more than held hairpins passed to him by senators like Padme and Chuchi on a transport after an event when they complained of the intricate styles giving them headaches or had simply needed to feel free of the bindings of senate formality. He’s seen enough though, and begins to work slowly from the base of her skull working up to the crown of her head. Mouse holds out her hand and he drops the thin pins in as he goes. As her hair begins to spill down, he watches her transform before his eyes back into the mouse he’d always known. Loose waves frame her face, still painted to perfection. Her red lips part and a soft breath escapes her as he massages his fingers along her scalp. Tension melts from her shoulders and she begins to lean back into him as his fingers rake through her hair, untangling strands until they slip smoothly through her fingers.

“You're going to make me fall asleep if you keep that up,” she says finally. The ghost of a smile crosses his face.

“Come on then. Stand up. Let’s get this thing undone before you have to sleep in it.” The stool is pushed to the side as she stands, and Fox moves a half a step back so he can see what he’s doing.

“The chain,” she says softly, catching his attention. “Unclasp it first, before the zipper. I can’t reach that at all.”

The thin gold chain hangs low on her bare back, spanning the distance between the straps of her dress. It glitters temptingly in the light, just like it had when he’d seen it earlier at dinner, when his mouth had gone dry at the mere sight of her.

Fox meets her eyes in the mirror as his hand moves softly from her right hip, up and over her back. His fingers drag feather-light over the bare skin they find. Mouse's eyes flutter shut and he can see her inhale deeply. Her skin was still as soft as he remembered. He gently scoops her hair to one side, over her right shoulder. Her eyes are still closed.

“Breathe, precious girl,” he orders softly, fighting a wince at the pet name that slips out. If Mouse cares, she doesn’t let on. She exhales slowly, opening her eyes at the end. Her pupils take a moment to adjust back to the light. “Am I ok?” he asks quietly.

“Are you?” There’s no heat or snark in her words. She’s staring at him, genuinely curious.

“I think so.” His fingers find the tiny gold catch holding the chain in place and it opens with ease.

“Can you- do you think you can do the zipper. If it’s too much to look at I-“

Fox stops her with a low sound. She hadn’t looked unsure or self conscious in the gown she wore all night. He wasn’t going to be the one to make her question it now. He’d already done enough. 

“I’m good.” 

He gently presses her left arm forward to gain access. He takes a steading breath as he looks down. The scarring spills across her shoulder, two shades lighter than her normal skin tone. He’s seen plenty of burns in his career and this wasn’t the worst but it feels like it is because he was the cause of it. A few centimeters more and he would have missed her entirely. A few centimeters the other way and-

His fingers move to the gown, easily plucking open the hook and loop closure at the top of the zipper. Mouse sucks in a sharp breath as the tips of his finger skim along the bare skin there.

“Is this ok?” he asks. She nods mutely. “I need words, Mouse,” he urges as gently as he can muster.

“It’s good.” Her voice wavers slightly as she speaks, “Go- go ahead.”

Fox can hear his heart beating in his skull. He can hear the rush of air through his lungs. Everything feels loud as his fingers slowly work at the jammed zipper. Mouse’s breathing is shallow as his fingers press into her, as they pull and twist until whatever has been keeping the closure jammed comes loose and it slides down. His fingers trail behind the zipper as it falls open.

He looks up to find her eyes on him again in the mirror's reflection. Her pupils are blown wide and her lips are parted. Fox feels the beginning wave of blood rush to his groin, the surge only becoming stronger as Mouse slowly - carefully - reaches up and slides the right strap of her gown down. She doesn’t look away from his reflection as her hand trails across her collarbone to the left strap. She pauses as if waiting for him to tell her to stop.

Fox puts the tips of his fingers over hers and together they lower the strap. He can see the rest of the scar now, can really get a feel for the size and the shape of it. It’s glossy compared to the surrounding area, as if her skin had been pulled too tight and frozen that way. She slides her fingers from the strap - laying flat against her lower arm - up, bringing his fingers along with it.

“Does it hurt?” The question slips out as her fingers glide over the surface.

“Not usually. It pulls sometimes,” she says softly, “They both do. I use lotion, try to get it massaged a couple times a day.” Fox’s eyes lock on hers. “The other option was worse.”

That’s right. She could be dead. He’s tried not to think of that the last few months, so trapped in his own guilt about hurting her that each time the psych droid brought it up he immediately countered with how she wasn’t and she had to live with what he’d done to her.

“Can I…?” He glances down and then back up. Mouse gives him a tense smile and a nod.

It feels different from how skin is supposed to feel. It feels thicker, less textured missing the fine hair that covered the rest of her arm. He traces the outline of it. It had only been glancing, the distal part of her shoulder taking the brunt of the burn from the bolt. His fingers map out the boundaries twice before he comes to a stand still.

He doesn’t want to stop touching her. 

“Where’s your lotion?”

She doesn’t question him. He can see it in her eyes, in the split second of hesitation. She doesn’t want this to stop either. 

One arm moves across her chest to hold her gown in place while the other reaches to the dressing table and wraps around a bottle. Fox takes it when offered and squeezes a small amount into his hand. 

He’s taking that step over his wall, he realizes.  It doesn’t feel like much of an obstacle anymore anyway as it lays in crumbles at his feet.

Her skin is warm under his touch, no real difference between the good tissue and the scarred as far as temperature is concerned. He works the lotion into her skin pressing his thumb in firm circles from the edges to the center. Mouse lets out a tiny sigh and it’s becoming more difficult to ignore the desire roiling in his belly. 

“Fox…”  he hums in response to the soft moan of his name, “it feels so good.”

“I missed you, Cyar’ika.” He offers tentatively as he presses in close, aligning her back against his chest. His free arm wraps around her waist holding her lightly against him. His hand falls away from her skin and his mouth descends to pepper soft kisses. She was warm. She was alive. she could be dead but she wasn’t and in the end it was because of his actions that he could still hold her, still hear the soft hitch in her breath as he sucks gently at the juncture where her shoulder and neck meet. 

Mouse’s head tips, offering him more room. Her arm falls away from her dress and reaches back behind her, cradling the back of Fox’s while he sucks a mark into her skin. A sea of red flutters to the floor as the dress falls. Fox growls as he looks up and sees the pair of them, him still in his greys and her naked except for a small lacy pair of red panties. His red. From there his eyes travel up, finding the other shot he fired. 

The scarring to her right flank is worse than the shoulder; he can see the puckered skin and the patterned appearance of healed grafting but he doesn’t feel the wave of guilt he’s felt earlier. She was alive and hot in his arms.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands quietly against her skin, “make me stop.”

Mouse’s hips press back against the hard line of his erection straining in his greys. Another low growl spills from his lips as he spins her around. Her lips are on his in an instant, messy and desperate as she presses up and into him. Her teeth pull at his lower lip. “Fox…”

His hands cradle her face as he slots his mouth over hers, breathing in the air she gives him like a gift from Fett himself. He can feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the way her hands wrapped around him and gripped at his back. 

It was a dream. It had got to be. If it was, it was  the first good one he’d had in months. Mouse whines quietly as his hands slide down and grips her hips as if they were the only thing tethering him to this reality. It’s too much and he should stop but he can’t because what he should do and what he wants to do are too wildly incompatible.  His fingers graze over the pebbled skin of her right flank. Mouse inhales sharply.

“Stop.” The word leaves her mouth with sudden desperation, like it had been pulled from her body unwillingly.  It’s like a bucket of cold water thrown over Fox as he jerks away.

Mouse turns from him, shaking her head as she snatched up a robe and quickly wraps it around herself. They’re both panting quietly.

He’d done something wrong, misread her signals. He was scum. He was an idiot. He should-

“I can’t do this again” She’s still breathless when she speaks, ruby lipstick smeared over swollen lips. “Fox look at me.” She demands quietly when he tries to turn away. “You can’t do this to me again.”

“Do what?” He can hear the desperation in his voice, he sounds pathetic.

She looks at him for a moment before she moves closer to him. He wants to turn away. He doesn’t want to hear how he’s ruined everything, how everything has become clear but it was now too late. 

Her hand comes up softly to his cheek as she looks at him through dark lashes. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“You can’t make me want you again, not if you're going to push me away when things get hard.” She has her free arm crossed over her chest. Her tone isn’t as strong as her words. They waiver as they fall from her lips. 

He wants to make her every promise in the book before he even knows if he can keep them and it’s not about getting his dick wet.

He misses her. Has missed her every single day since the horrible event in the Chancellor’s office.

He misses her smile - the soft one she saved just for him. He misses the way she viewed the world  from a different but similar way he did. He misses planning for a future with her even if he hadn’t told her any of it. Most of all he misses the quiet moments, the times when they would just lay together and enjoy being near one another.

“It was all for you Cyar’ika.” He says with force, as if he said it sure enough he’d convince her that every action he’d ever made in regards to her was completely selfless.

“Kriff” she curses, shaking her head. Her hand falls away and he misses the warm feeling of her skin against his, “you of all people-“ she mutters under her breath before speaking clearly.

 “I get to make choices Fox. When it comes to my life, I get to weigh the risks and benefits and I get to make choices. You took that away from me. Have I loved being here?” she asks, gesturing around at the sumptuous suite, “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t, but would I have rather been with you? Do you know that answer.”

Fox shakes his head.

“That’s right! Because you never asked. The truth is I would have rather been with you every minute of every day of the last three months. Doing paperwork, writing schedules, reviewing supply requisitions, it wouldn’t have mattered because I’d have been with you.”

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t-“

“No Fox, you didn’t think.” She sniffs lightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life and you pushed me away. You turned your back on me when I needed you and now? Now you’re here and we fall into our old patterns? Not again. Not unless you can promise me you are in this 100% because I can’t do it again. My heart just can’t.” 

Fox reaches out and swipes a trailing tear with his thumb “I-“ She leans into his touch, her cheek resting against his palm as her eyes drift shut. Just one second. she allows herself that. She straightens and steps away before his eyes can memorize the image of her.

“No, don’t say anything right now. Leave. Think. Decide what it is you really want. If it’s me you can find me and let me know.” There’s a finality to her words that has him biting back any response he may have made. She steps into him, rising up on her toes and gently bumping her forehead against his own.

“I do love you,” he says quietly.

 Mouse blows out a ragged breath. “I know. You just need to decide if that’s going to be enough.” She moves toward the door, opening it. “Goodnight Fox.”

[hcllisfm]

HOLLIS OVERSEE, WALLFLOWER

❝ I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself. ❞

playlist / pinterest

AESTHETICS 

Hollis is an avid makeup wearer. He is no beauty guru but you will always catch him wearing eyeliner and dark eyeshadow (bright colors and glitter are for special occasions only) Think of him as a chic Jack Sparrow. It looks smudged but it takes time to perfect that look. Back home there isn’t a lot of vegetation so Hollis enjoys incorporating flowers and nature into his designs and his personal style. He can be seen wearing bright colors, though his fashion sense is not as costume-y as what the Capitol is used to he does tend to dress in a way that gets people to look at him. Skirts, dresses, jumpsuits, he doesn’t care as long as the clothes are telling a story.

He keeps his curly hair long and has a beard he tends to decorate if the outfit calls for it. REF

influences: Prince, Harry Styles, Cody Fern, Givenchy, Versace, John Galliano

( please bear with me since the gifs i will be using won’t reflect this and i’m very upset! )

BACKGROUND TW: death & bullying

You’ve always known what privilege is.

Your life on Eight was not perfect, but you had it much better than the other kids you went to school with. They made sure you knew that. 

You lost your father at a young age, but your mother was a hard worker, so she made up for it. Every day after school you would find her at her little shop turning scraps and trash into beautiful garments that kept both of you fed and clothed. That was supposed to be it. You were a kid, maybe that’s why you didn’t understand. All you saw were pretty colors.

Those were the happiest days of your life. Even with your father gone, you cherish the memories of your mother teaching you the proper way to handle a needle deeply. Life was easy, simple. The pretty colors filled your days. It didn’t matter that no one wanted to play with you because at least you had her.  Then the Capitol found you.

Well, they found your mother. You just came in a package deal. 

You were so young you didn’t understand why her creations were so loved, why people seemed to fawn over every new piece she’d exhibit by the shop’s window. All you saw were colors, the textures.  Your mother’s excitement confused you as well, because why would someone want to leave home? What about your father’s grave? You didn’t want to leave, but you loved your mother and you were barely eleven so you didn’t exactly have a choice. 

You thought things would be different at the Capitol. The kids back home didn’t like you because you were lucky to be in a better position than them. Maybe now that your mother was part of the big leagues things would change. You never expected to be rejected again, this time because of where you came from. You begged to be able to return home, but your mother was on cloud nine and had stopped listening a long time ago.

Your only friends were the sewing kit you got when you were ten. You still have it, though it hasn’t been used for years. It’s a nice reminder of life back at Eight.

Even as you grew up and your mother and her shop became a staple of the Capitol, kids didn’t really pay attention to you. Maybe part of it was your fault too. You were quiet, preferring to observe them in an attempt to imitate them in hopes they’d accept you one day. That didn’t exactly happen, but it gave you something to do when you weren’t busy working for your mother.

Things started looking up when mother met Freesia. She’d stop by the shop every day, your mother the reason why she was there. Despite that, the woman would almost bring you a small gift. Sweets, drawings you’d later use to create a new outfit. Freesia knew that you were lonely and did their best to help with that. When she married your mother, you were the happiest you’d ever been. 

Everything was perfect, but as you grew up, you noticed how the differences between your mother and her new wife were starting to affect their marriage. 

Your mother seemed to be determined to forget all about her life back on Eight. In a way, you understood. She would go on and on about how wonderful life was in the Capitol, how they had blessed you with a chance to be someone else, someone better. And they saved you from the games too, which she would be eternally grateful for. As for you, even as an adult that is a source of guilt you can’t seem to shake off, especially now that you work for the very same terror you managed to avoid.

Freesia was the opposite. You didn’t notice it at first. It’s not until you grew up that you began to learn more about their beliefs. Every year during the games, Freesia’s usual jovial mood would change. She’d spend time alone in their studio, never telling anyone what they were working on. It frustrated your mother and there was nothing you could do except listen to her ranting.

When you were asked to join the games as a stylist, your mother was ecstatic. Freesia was the opposite. They weren’t upset but you could tell they were worried for you. That was what got her to open up to you and reveal what they really thought about your adoptive home. Then everything clicked.

The fights, the secrets. Your mother refusing to talk to the few friends Freesia had. It was almost ironic. There you were, living with with a Capitol born woman from a good family that rejected her own history and condemned their home, and a mother born on Eight that was desperate to forget her past and pretend the Capitol had always been her home. You moved soon after.

You still talk to both, of course. Despite her many flaws you love your mother, and Freesia is your biggest support system. She is good at helping you remain humble now that your budding fame as a stylist is keeping you busy. And maybe there is more to that. Maybe one in a while she shares her opinions with you and has managed to influence your thoughts. Not that you’d reveal what you really think. 

With the climate being so heavy in Panem and people growing restless, you know it’s vital for you to follow your mother’s example and live your life pretending you finally feel like you belong. The Capitol seems to still have the upper hand, so you are in their corner, though Freesia’s arguments are good enough to make you consider leaning towards the other side.

Did the bullying leave a lasting effect on you? You want to say no, but you’d be kidding yourself. When people ask why you’re so quiet your only reply is to shrug and offer them a charming smile along with a compliment that will divert the conversation away from you. You mostly keep to yourself now that you’re older. It’s much easier than attempting to navigate the tempestuous waters of the Capitol, especially when you know how many enemies your stepmother has. So you keep your head down; learn and observe. You speak when spoken to, never allow yourself to say anything remotely controversial that could put your family at risk.

You’re a hard worker still, which has earned you enough leverage to be able to still have a place in high society. You’re not a top dog, but your talent cannot be ignored. Could you be bigger? Absolutely, but you’re content with what you have. You know very well what comes with notoriety and fear what could happen if people were to start looking into your personal life. 

But, what scares you the most is the possibility of people seeing what’s behind your politeness, of ever finding out the inner turmoil you live with because you don’t know where you really belong. Or that you’re starting to agree more with Freesia than with your own mother.

[yikeswtfmate]

Trouvaille

Trouvaille (n.) a valuable discovery, or a lucky find; something lovely discovered by chance

Summary: Bucky stumbles upon a dingy bar in Brooklyn, turning his world upside down.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Super fluffy piece! I’m so excited about this, every second of it has been an absolute pleasure. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

masterlist

It’s another Wednesday night that Bucky spends in a seemingly random bar in Brooklyn. But nothing is random about this bar – although, granted, it was at first. Now, James Buchanan Barnes can be found in this bar once a week without fail (which in all honesty should be a miracle considering what his job is), whether it’s a Monday (when only a few sad men swallow their misery in tall glasses of beer), or a Thursday (his favourite, because at 10 o’clock on the dot the bartender plays that song that he used to love so much in another life), or a Saturday (which he hates the most because it’s crowded and he can’t really have a proper conversation). The bar is nothing much – the same floor that however many times it’s cleaned it’s still a little bit sticky, there’s the smell of stale booze that oozes out from the upholstery and the customers only give him a cursory glance when he walks in and takes his usual stool right at the farthest corner of the bar.

He discovered this bar one night when he was tired of wandering the streets of Brooklyn after a long day of restlessness. He couldn’t sit still in the Avengers Tower, and although he tried sparring with Nat, or playing poker with Sam and Tony, or even tried his hand at chess again with Steve, he just couldn’t stop feeling fidgety. So he just up and went for a stroll through the emptying streets until he ended up in Brooklyn. He noticed the neon sign above the door, one of the clover’s leaves flickering on and off in the darkness. He decided to take a seat when he heard the music – low notes of a song long forgotten dancing between whispers and shouts, the singer’s voice too sweet for the rough hands that were clutching their bottles.

He stayed for the most radiant laughter that filled his ears, folding over and around the song. He stayed for the bright eyes that met his when he asked for a beer of his own; for the smile that tugged at delicate lips; for the raised eyebrow that ascertained recognition. He normally would have pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes, but he didn’t want to obstruct his view. He wanted to see her fully, to bask in the marvel that this woman in front of him was.

The first words she said to him were of mockery, laughing at his weak attempt at a disguise, and after six months of knowing her, he’s still surprised at how easy it is to be around her. How easy it is to banter, to make fun of the other, to always be able to cheer him up, regardless of how deep his rage might be, to not expect anything more than to just be.

Now it’s another night that Bucky spends at the dingy bar, watching Y/N pour shots for the hen party that’s taking place for whatever reason on a Wednesday. He’s been in a foul mood all evening, and she’s been trying to give him some space, but as she wipes her hands on a damp towel, she huffs and saunters over to him.

“Ok, big guy. Tell me what’s up with you today.” Y/N demands, but Bucky doesn’t answer at first. She leans down, trying to catch his eyes as he lowers his gaze towards the bottle he’s been nursing for an hour already. “You know I hate it when I can’t see your pretty smile, baby.” She tries again. “Come on, Sarge, I won’t be seeing you for another week after tonight, give me something to swoon over until next time.”

He finally smiles, even if for a fraction. He looks back up at her and she notices the dark circles under his eyes. She knows he doesn’t usually sleep well, but he seems even more exhausted than last week. There’s something bugging him that’s enough to keep him from flirting and laughing at her stupid jokes, as he would do.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She offers.

“How about a kiss, doll?” Which is definitely more than she could get out of him all night, but still not the full force of the charm that he normally displays.

“My, mister Barnes, you sure know how to bewitch a girl, don’t you?” There’s a pause in their conversation as she goes about serving a man in a suit that must’ve probably just gotten out of a huge fight with his partner, considering the distraught look.

“Come on, Buck. Tell me what’s up. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You still have two more hours to work.” He points out.

“Which means I’m super dedicated to the cause if I’m willing to not lose my job by just walking out to prove a point.”

He sighs but at least offers her a small smile in return. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his beer, knowing from experience that although she can give him space whenever he needs it, he always finds that he feels better after sharing his thoughts with her.

“Just been having a shitty week, that’s all, doll. The last mission was rather…challenging.” He says, memories of too many bodies scattered on a cold slaughterhouse floor in front of his eyes. There are not many things he’d shy away from telling her, but sometimes he feels the need to avoid giving her the grimy details.

Y/N nods in silence, and after a few seconds of watching him closely, she places her hand on top of his right one that was resting on the bar top. He moves his palm upwards in order to hold hers, lifting it towards his lips and placing a soft kiss on a knuckle. She squeezes his fingers for a second but doesn’t let go. He needs the contact, of that she is more than certain, and however much she’d like to deny her affection for him, this sullen man sneaked his way around her veins, slipped between the cracks of her ribs, and nestled himself in a corner of her heart, filling her lungs with sunshine and camellias without her even noticing.

“Well, I’d say beer is a good start to drown your sorrows in.” She notes, trying to make light, drawing him out of the dark place he likes to curl into.

She pulls back her hand, all the while Bucky wishing she’d just stay there in front of him, keeping her hand in his and just looking at each other.

“I can also offer you some salted peanuts as well.” She says, disappearing under the bar, throwing food and alcohol on the top as she keeps on talking. “Might find some pretzels as well, if only I can find where Cody keeps putting them under this goddamn – aha!” Another colourful bag surfaces and Bucky tries to catch it without smashing anything in his way. “Oh! I might even find his secret stash of chocolate if I look hard enough!” Her eyes appear over the countertop, a mischievous glint that Bucky enjoys but always treats with caution. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I’ve already told you that a kiss would be enough, baby.” He winks, already feeling some of the tension easing out of his muscles.

“Now, now, James. This is no way of treating a lady. What would the village say if I were to fall into your arms without you properly courting me?”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. She shifts under his gaze, but can admit that it melts her from inside out.

“Is that what you want, doll? A proper courtship?” His voice is low but even with music playing and patrons shouting around them, she feels as if he whispered those words into her ear. She shudders, making his lips slowly tug up at one end.

“Bucky, you’re supposed to tell me what you want so you can feel better.”

“I said I wanted a kiss, but you keep refusing me, baby.” A frown. “So I’ll just settle for walking you home tonight, what do you say?”

“Silly goose.” She laughs, although she’s only half listening to him as she is pouring a draught beer to a customer next to him. “You’ve been walking me home for the past three months, I don’t see how tonight would be any different.”

Bucky smiles softly when she sends him a wink distractedly. There are pauses in their conversation, sentences and questions scattered across two hours as the patrons of the bar order their last drinks and prepare to head home. Midnight comes and goes, and Bucky loses himself in memories of nights spent in the bar, just so he could be in her company, even if for only a few hours. Tonight’s the night, he decides, there have been too many silent queries in her eyes, too many touches that bordered on delicate caresses, too many smiles hiding secrets that could bloom into something else, something more that he so desperately has been longing for.

It was easier to not want more from life before he met her. He was content with just surviving from day to day, never asking for more, never believing he deserved more. The way he saw it, it should have been his atonement for the years of pain and suffering he had inflicted. Never knowing more than completing the missions he was sent on, eradicating as much as possible of the evil that existed in the world, trying to tip the scales at least a fraction before he’d have to finally rest, regardless of how soon that would come. Until Bucky met Y/N, which turned his world upside down. He found himself more careful, less inclined to charge head first into any situation that might bring him certain death. Now he had someone to come back to, someone who would bring him back from the dead just so she could give him a good scolding.

He's been more than careful not to let any of his friends near her, except for Natalia, of course. Y/N mentioned one time her thoughts on the Black Widow being the most amazing woman to ever grace the Earth, so he decided to surprise her one night. It wasn’t a tough choice to make, her ecstatic expression and her giddiness were enough to make him smile all night, although he had to give up her attention completely in favour of the redhead. After that, Nat would sometimes accompany him, having taken a liking to “Barnes’ cute bartender,” but neither of them would give any more to the others, much to their collective chagrin. But Bucky was relentless in refusing to subject her to their teasing and intensity, and he was grateful Nat respected his wish.

One night he asked her to dance with him in the middle of the dingy bar. It was the first time she played that song he loved so much, a soft melody that waved around their bodies as he shifted her closer and closer to him until she finally rested her head on his shoulder. He felt the sigh that escaped her lips and kissed the top of her head with his eyes closed.

Another night he came in bruised and battered after a particularly difficult mission, having escaped from the Med bay as soon as he was allowed, his first thought upon waking up being of her. The moment she saw him, she rounded the bar, inspecting him from head to toe and pinched his ear, which was probably the only part of him that wasn’t hurting at that moment. She shouted at him and cursed him, accusing him of being a “reckless wet sock,” all the while he was laughing at her reaction, even though the worry in her eyes made his heart expand like batter in the oven. That was the first time she made him promise he’ll stop putting himself in danger or she’ll never forgive him, a hand over his purple cheek, her thumb stroking over the tender skin. With a kiss to the inside of her wrist, he promised, having realised he would forever do anything she would ask of him.

While she is closing the bar, Bucky wonders yet again how would his life look like if he would just give up his duties as an Avenger, and follow his heart for once. He wonders whether that would be selfish, throwing away the possibilities unleashed by the serum flowing through his body, turning his back to the injustices of the world without a second thought, just so he could wake up with Y/N in his arms every morning.

“You’re thinking too much again and that only leads to trouble.” Her voice startles him from his musings, a poke to his ribs for good measure.

They start walking in silence for a few blocks, the city asleep around them. Y/N waits for him to speak, knowing from experience that it’s better to give him time until he’s ready to say whatever’s on his mind.

“Do you ever wish to…give everything up and start again?” He asks.

“I guess being a bartender isn’t anyone’s dream job.” She concedes. “I’d love to write more, but that won’t pay my bills. Giving everything up and starting again would just work in theory, wouldn’t it, though? There will always be a part of you that stays with you forever, no matter how much you try to hide it, so in my opinion it’s better to just accept it and move on.” A few more steps in silence. “You should stop blaming yourself, Buck. It wasn’t your fault. Accept it and move on. I’m not judging you for anything you’ve done while you were…you know. You’re here now and I love the person that you are now, so that’s all that matters to me.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, watching her in utter stupor. They’ve discussed what happened, but never at great lengths, because Bucky was too afraid he’ll repulse her into avoiding him. She’s never shared her thoughts on the matter, at least not this openly.

Y/N turns back when she notices he’s not in step with her anymore. She extends her arm, offering her hand and he takes it, interlacing their fingers together.

“You’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and although you’re a fucking idiot who has no sense of self-preservation, I care about you deeply, Buck. And it’s not just the fact that you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, even though it sure is a big plus to be this easy on the eye.” She laughs. “It’s breaking my heart to see you beating yourself up time and time again for something that is not your fault. I want you to see yourself through my eyes and realise that you deserve all the happiness in the world, and that you’re loved so much – ”

Y/N’s words die in her throat. Hands in her hair, pulling at heart strings, soft caresses of his tongue, the taste of beer, camellias bursting her chest open, arms around his neck, long strands of hair tickling her fingers, a sense of coming home, a sigh escaping lips, the tug of a smile, and foreheads pressed to each other, love weaving in and around their pulsing veins.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” He admits.

“It took you too much for my liking.”

A whisper on his lips as Bucky kisses her again – more, forever, I promise.

[damemaladroite]

Almost done with firefight...

So I’ve almost finished firefight by Brandon Sanderson, the second book in the Reckoners series. I feel pretty lukewarm about this book– despite trying to break this book into parts, I still didn’t feel super compelled to read this one. Granted my life has been a bit hectic and I haven’t had a lot of time to spend on reading but I genuinely feel like if this had been as action packed as Steelheart was, I wouldn’t be bothered by this. Steelheart was the sort of book you didn’t want to put down, whereas this one I almost couldn’t be bothered to pick it up.

I will say, that in the last third when Megan rejoins the plot, the book starts to pick up. Megan and David have a really great dynamic that feels pretty atypical of YA. David’s a perfectly written dork, and while Sanderson gives him his cool moments, it never feels like he’s trying too hard because you have so many moments where you just have to laugh at him (my favorite being his insistence that he is not a nerd) Megan balances him really well, she grounds him but at the same time she needs his sort of infectious enthusiasm in her more jaded world. I like their relationship and it’s pretty refreshing at the end of the day compared to a lot of other romances I’ve seen.

We’re kind of entering the endgame here, so spoilers ahead (I’ve only gotten to part 4 so far) * SPOILERS AHEAD *

Even though I’ve missed Cody and Abraham a lot this book, I’m glad that they’re not apart of this plot to undermine David. The whole thing feels messed up on a lot of levels.

Part of me wants to say it’s the powers that are warping the Prof (Honestly, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up being the big bad of book 3) but I feel like it’s something else. David’s belief that Epics can change and be good is something that Prof obviously used to really believe in, and he views it as a dangerous route to go down, so he travels as far from it as he can. David’s insistence on studying the weaknesses and that Megan is innocent strike to close to that, and I feel like this is where a lot of the issue comes from.

Then there is Megan, who Prof distrust’s a lot, even though as David points out, Prof still doesn’t have the whole story. Megan’s not someone who has a history of violence like other epics, though Prof definitely strikes me as the sort of person that once you break the trust, it’s pretty hard to regain. And yet it feels too much like he wants a reason to distrust her, and isn’t really giving her a fair shake. Arguably David is doing the same thing, he is too trusting, but Megan’s actions are questionable enough for me to at least consider what she is saying (Read: I think that while Megan is still questionable, Prof & co too easily write her off) On the subject of Sam, I find it strange that David hasn’t really asked her about it– and she hasn’t really denied that she did it. It’s definitely strange, but I feel like there is probably more to it than we know.

While I feel like the sort of endgame-setup-plot twist for this book is good, it’s also strangely frustrating. It took over 300 pages for the book to really get interesting (first fight scene notwithstanding) and around 25 pages after that for the David-is-a-traitor plot to kick in. They are both good concepts, but I don’t know if they are set up or executed the best. In fact, while David and Prof have a pretty good scene, every other character gets the short end of the staff here and distrust David way too quickly. Not that it isn’t believable, since they don’t know him too well– but it still feels shallow. 

Like Val (who should be smart) thinks that Regalia somehow set up David, who has very clearly never left Newcago in his life, and literally had a corroborating story about steelheart from his childhood, to infiltrate the reckoners. It’s a huge leap in logic, and maybe she doesn’t know everything about David or she’s too emotional, but it still feels pretty jarring. Exel and Missy also are mad at him but it doesn’t really feel that bad because honestly i’m not that invested in either of them and Sanderson doesn’t spend time on actually delineating how they feel. At least at this point, it feels like a good concept that is rather poorly executed.

And then the prof (and Tia I guess) have the gall to be disappointed in David, even though their whole plan was pretty much setting David up for failure. Maybe this was a test, but it honestly seemed like David failing was something that they expected to happen. After everything they went through in the first book and in the year since then, it just makes me kind of angry. Like, if I were David, I would be pretty angry about everything. While David was not very subtle about still seeing Megan, he’s a teenager and Megan was a former member of their group, I don’t know– I understand why they are mad at him, but at the same time everything he did with Megan was in an attempt to undermine Regalia. Like it’s not as if he was helping supply Regalia weapons (If that was what happened it would have made these events more believable) They intentionally keep David in the dark about what actually happened with Sam, try to give him a chance to confess while making it pretty clear that no matter what Megan is still taboo, and David acts like a confused teenager keeping a secret because he’s dumb and doesn’t always make the right call? It’s not like they are unjustified, but they still used David and it makes their ostracisation of him just come off very poorly.

I suppose the last thing I want to talk about is Regalia and the actual Endgame here. I think the biggest thing for me right now, is despite everything, Regalia is still a huge enigma, and even though Tia and Prof knew her personally I feel like none of them are even close to cracking the puzzle that is her. Watch me be wrong, but I feel like David’s right and that all of the puzzle pieces haven’t really come together, which is why the fact that they are gearing up for the final phase against Regalia feels so… out of place. Compared to the previous book where they had already had a few significant hits on Steelheart, they have almost nothing on Regalia aside from a few of David’s efforts. The certainty that the reckoners operate with that they understand the situation feels a bit out of place, especially compared to Steelheart where the plan was very clearly delineated, and they had already gained a lot of information, while Babilar still feels off in a lot of ways. Everything they have learned at this point feels like it has brought more questions and very few answers.

Also, kind of random, but using the assumption that Regalia thinks David is compromised could kind of work. They could use that as part of a trap I think, but they trust him so little that they don’t even consider that– which I think is where a lot of my issue’s come from– despite being in the Reckoner’s for over a year, the fact that they disregard all of that over a genuinely trippy situation, I don’t know it just makes me mad at a lot of the characters. Like I get that Val is emotional because Sam died, but does it really seem that plausible that Regalia planted an unknown guy who didn’t even know how to swim, with a corroborating story of Steelheart into the reckoners? I mean, who knows if she knows the whole story, but it’s still a ridiculous accusation. I could go on, but I’m mad that the characters distrust David so easily, like if anything it almost feels forced. We also don’t really get anything from say Tia, maybe we will later but while i love the concept of David being thrown under the bus, I feel like the buildup to it could have been better, and if the execution of it could really have been improved. Anyways, I’m probably going to read part 4 tomorrow and we will see if any of my issues dissipate- I’ve heard this book has a good ending so we’ll see. If I’m going to make any predictions, right now I will say–

1. Sam was messing around with something he shouldn’t have and that’s why Megan went after him 2. Regalia is doing this elaborate plot to not only draw Prof out but to force him to use his powers and to succumb to their influence

À bientôt!

[smolbeandrabbles]

Flaws - Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x Reader (Animal Kingdom)

Happy Birthday @mandy23b - I love you ❤ So I have too much of a thing for this GIF...

Author’s Note: You know that the Andrew Cody I write is always a nice mix of both of them so...

Hopefully you enjoy whatever angle you’re looking at this from... ...And if you have the perspective of both, I hope you enjoy twice! First let me tag the #AndrewCrew @jeneyre​ @beany-ben​ 

Disclaimer: Animal Kingdom show and movie themes and characters not mine. / lyrics not mine; Andrew once again is juxtaposed in my group choice  “Oh yeah, Take That! They sound like and Andrew Cody band!” 

Premise: In your best attempt to show him what real family is like, you persuade  Andrew to come with you to meet yours... Words: 9351 Warnings: Swearing - maybe an insulin warning?

_______ You should know what you're fighting for Can't promise you oh that perfect life To get this far I've seen darker times Never looking up, running from the light Always out of reach, ignoring every sign You should know cuz I care about you And you deserve more than any truth The dirt and soil it's still beneath my nails Don't know how to win only how to fail I have so many, so many flaws If you take me, if you take me, they're yours And if you see tomorrow I'll give you it all Take me, take me, I'm yours... ---

When you’d met Andrew you had a fiancé. When you’d met Andrew he’d been on a job. Well, no, that was an understatement - because the job had been you. (True you hadn’t driven that car to work since then “Aw, but my other one is boring!” “But it doesn’t draw attention!” “...But I love it.” “I know you do. But you should do it for your own safety.” “Why, do you worry?” “Why, would you do it for me...?”) And through a series of too-strange-to-be-coincidences you’d now ended up here...

You’d come this far with him, but there was a lot that was still hard. He didn’t really like talking about his family, but he did because you asked him. Plus if you’d been ‘the job’ then you knew whatever was up with them couldn’t be good. However he wouldn’t let you meet them; and it wasn’t an argument, it was just something he told you. He’d rather you didn’t. At first this was okay with you, until you realised the likelihood of that meaning you were the world’s biggest secret. And give or take information about what he did, you had told your family all about him. You guess you didn’t mind being a secret - but there were implications with it that made you sad; it would be dangerous for his family to know about you? They would use you as leverage? You didn’t know exactly what, but you knew it upset you. And you knew that that wasn’t how family was supposed to behave.

This all took a strain on him. And you could tell - often he’d leave without saying goodbye, and he’d go silent until the next time he turned up at your house. The occasional text wasn’t really enough, but you loved and trusted him enough to understand why he needed to do this. You knew the kind of man he was; what he did. But, you wanted to give him a real family - one you knew he wouldn’t have to hide anything from, and he could be himself around. (Well, maybe that was wishful thinking. But you knew your family well enough to know what they would and wouldn’t tolerate). It wasn’t exactly the easiest subject to broach with him though, because it would involve him being away from his own family life for at least a couple of days. And the blank stare he gave you when you finally managed to get the idea out of your head, said that he thought it a less-than-ideal situation. “... You want me to what?” “It’d just be a long weekend, four days maximum.” “Y/N... I... I don’t think that’s a good idea...” “Well you won’t let me meet yours, but I want you to meet mine...” “...Why?” “Why not?” Was about the only good counter you had - because I love you, because you deserve this, because what you have is not a real family...? “...well, when?” You gave a shrug “Whenever you think you can get away for that long. I know you spend a lot of time protecting me Andrew, I don’t want it to screw that up either.” “It’s more what your family will think of me.” “...Well, I think they’ll love you.” His laugh was sarcastic; “I’m sure.” “Look, will you please just come?” Andrew sighed; “Will it make you happy?” You folded your arms, wondering why that needed to be a factor, but if it’d get him to budge on this... “...Yes. But it’s not about making me happy.” “I’ll do it.” He gave a nod, “Next weekend. Three days. Home Sunday night.” “Okay...” you agreed with a smile, “No more no less...”

 *

 The car drive was almost completely silent. And Andrew looked more than a little uncomfortable - even though he reassured you every time you asked if he was okay or not. You tried to keep him talking but it was harder than you imagined. Was he nervous? That was strange to you; you couldn’t imagine a situation where Andrew would be uncomfortable. Ah, domestic life! but then that only made you wonder even more what his family was like. What was home life for him? He was comfortable enough every time he stayed with you, and it wasn’t a people thing considering his extensive siblings... unless it was a people thing. That Andrew Cody wasn’t used to not being the one in the room calling the shots. That he wasn’t used to being in an unfamiliar place. (Did that even make sense to you? Surely every job was also pulled in somewhere so unfamiliar... if not cased. Still, you supposed, familiar company...)

You’d seen him pack his little orange bottle of pills this morning - and you didn’t know if that was a good sign that he was trying, or a bad sign that he thought he was going to need them. “Did you take one?” “Yeah. And I hate taking them, so this is for you.” “I know you do...” you carefully removed one hand from the wheel and took hold of his, to let him know how much that meant “You don’t have to do it for me.” “No, but, I at least want to make a good first impression.” You smiled, rather than laughed - that was a sweet thing of him to consider. He didn’t have to do that. Heck you would give him a gold star just for turning up.

 —

 It was a long drive. And although Andrew offered multiple times to swap with you, you just kept shaking your head, he didn’t need to do that. And you knew the way, you had this, it was easier for you to drive than for you to sit and tell him directions. And you liked doing things like this for him - after all, like he said, he was coming all this way for you.

When you arrived it was nearing dark, and you rolled neatly up into the drive. “Huh!” He studied your family home from the passenger side; “Not what I expected!” “In a good way or a bad way?” You nodded to it “It’s bigger on the inside...” He tipped his head with a frown, and a glint to those bright eyes that made you jog his arm “Don’t case my parents’ house!” There was almost a laugh there; “Can’t help it. Force of habit.” The front door opened before you’d even stepped out of the vehicle and light flooded the little porch your parents had. Andrews face clearly read that he thought they were a little too eager, so you thought you better get out and calm them down quick. “Take all the time you need okay...” you placed your hand over his “It’s gonna be fine... they’re just excited.” “Yeah...” That was fairly uncertain, so you leant across to kiss his cheek. “I love you, Andrew, you know that...” Reassurance; as if that’s what he needed, that it didn’t matter what happened or what anyone else thought, you would leave here with your love intact. He mattered more to you right now than maybe anything else. And your parents would understand that if they didn’t already. You hopped out of your car and ran to the porch and straight into a tight embrace; “Y/N!!!” Andrew watched all this very carefully from his seat, undoing the belt at snail’s pace - he was trying to calculate all this very quick in his head. If he could figure your family out from here, he’d understand exactly the kind of man he had to be when he stepped out of this car. Andrew took a deep breath, now or never to be the man you needed him to be. “...Mom! Dad!” You pulled back, “It’s great to see you!” “It’s great to have you home sweetheart...!!!” They both looked expectantly to the car on the driveway; and you hushed them for a minute “He’s not used to this... I just... I know you’re very enthusiastic about meeting him but... if you can tone down your enthusiasm just a little I think it’s help him out... y’know, at least until he’s used to it... and I wouldn’t ask if I-” It was their turn to hush you; “It’s okay, sweetheart we know – we can be a little... full on. And we want to make sure he’s comfortable, but loved.” “Me too...” you turned back to the car yourself to watch him hop out, and then round the back to collect your bags “... You have no idea...” then you turned back to your parents “Oh God, the kids?!” “It’s all okay - either out for the night or upstairs... does he know!?” You grimaced slightly; “One step at a time... at least let him think it’s quiet. Else I’ll be finding a ride home...”

Even Andrew’s footsteps were fairly uncertain as he walked up the driveway. He checked everything - and you knew he was surveying his surroundings; quick escape routes, what his options were for safe places... that would set him less on edge. Finally you saw him take a deep breath; like he’d figured it all out in his mind, and his steps picked up, confident, as he made the rest of the way to the porch, his and your bags slung over his shoulder. “Ah! You must be Andrew! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”  Your mom stepped forward first; tonally bright - to which she received a smile. “And you...” Then he turned to your father and extended his hand; “Sir.” That almost made you laugh, but you held it back. Ah, the unconventional bending to the wills of convention! You spent the rest of your parents’ introductions focusing on his expression - you weren’t sure how you would feel about his determination to act through this weekend. Still, at least he seemed guarded but comfortable... Andrew could instantly tell the most threatening force in this house would still be him.

 The first few hours were quiet, your parents didn’t ask or push too much from him, as the four of you sat there in the living room making small talk. But good small talk, nothing useless or empty that Andrew would have no time for (being the man he was) and you found the mood peaceful, and calm and not one force of tension in sight - there wasn’t one hanging awkward silence or pause as someone’s brain desperately searched for something to say. And you liked that. You liked that your parents took things you had told them and made light surface conversation... and they didn’t dive too deep when taking initiative from his answers; Andrew had many people to get to know this weekend, even though he didn’t know it yet. They all would ask him the same thing 10 times and he was the only one they all had to get to know. What you knew best is he’d never agree to do this if you told him what was really going on here...

You just hoped he might forgive you.

 *

 Andrew woke up to the sound of voices. Too many voices. Too many young voices... He groaned and pushed his palms against his eyes - what now? He shifted his body to try and shut it out - in what position could he hear it least-!? But as he moved around Andrew also realised he was alone. With a sigh of discontent he opened his eyes, staring hard at the bedroom wall. Well, there was no way he was getting back to sleep with that racket. And no you (not to mention no note or anything!!). he slid out of bed and dressed, but upon opening the door to your room, realised that made the noise level increase. He scowled for just a second, not exactly what he had in mind to wake up to - but then he supposed in a good neighbourhood like this... there’d be a lot of families.

However, his annoyance turned to curiosity turned to anxiousness. Those voices were definitely in this house - not a neighbouring one, or a back yard or playing in the street - this house. He stood at the top of the stairs for far too long, and then took it one slow step at a time. He crept down the steps trying to make sure his senses weren’t deceiving him. Step and stop. Step and stop. And listen. He couldn’t really hear what was going on, a lot of indistinct chatter and voices talking over each other but, Andrew was desperately trying to isolate those voices to count them. And then rake through every conversation you’d ever had to figure out who the children might be. He peered over the banisters to see if he could at least figure out where you all were.

“...Okay! Okay! Will you lot calm down! You’ll wake the whole house!” He smiled gently at the familiarity of your own voice. “But we wanna meet Andrew!!!” “I realise that-! But trust me the last thing he’s gonna wanna hear at this time in the morning is you guys screaming... you’re giving me a headache just, hush a sec-!” “Why!?” “Why what-! Just quiet down-!” “You’re not the boss of us!” That was at least 3 different children already. “Oh, so you want me to get mom?!” Andrew noticed that lowered the decibel levels, and he smiled – that was a threat he knew all too well. He guessed you were in the kitchen, considering his attempt to visually seek you out was in vein, but he was still a little anxious. That was a lot of voices - and busy situations never really put him at his best. Especially if all attention was on him - which he assumed it would be. He reached the bottom stair and took his time with reaching the lounge, taking a deep breath. Working himself up to the fact that all those voices belonged to kids who would all soon be clamouring for attention from him. Andrew peered around the corner, and was glad for a few seconds more of respite when he realised that all of them were gathered into one part of the kitchen, probably around you. “So what’s he like?” ...and still talking about him. “Yeah Y/N! Tell us everything!” “Like I didn’t already?” Your laugh was bright “Ask him yourself. Not all at once mind.” “Why? Is he shy?” “Ha! No.” Okay, maybe a little. At something like this. “But why would you want second hand information!?” “Pleaaaase can we go get him!” “No! Leave the poor man alone!” “Aw! But why not?!” “Let me put it this way - how would you feel if a bunch of adults you didn’t know waltzed into your room to drag you out of bed?” He shuffled a little further into the room and took another deep breath, trying to unfaze himself – the oldest couldn’t have been any more than 14.

“Uh, hey.” They all turned suddenly at the sound of his voice. Even when quiet it held a tone about it that made you listen. And one by one they all gasped, but held silent on your instruction. You bit your lip gently in silent apology that you’d put him in this situation, even though he kept his eyes steady on them. As if your parents wasn’t tremendous pressure enough – maybe he really would need those pills! “Kids, this in Andrew - who I’m sure you’ve all heard me speak far too much about.” You gave him a wink “Andrew, meet the foster siblings. I don’t even remember their names...Sooooo...” “Hey!!!” Three of the youngest turned back to you which made you laugh. But suddenly he was again faced with 8 pairs of eyes looking at him and that didn’t include yours.

Instead Andrew raised his own to you slowly and you could see all the questions on his face that started with ’why didn’t you...?!’ Your slight apology was again in your smile. And you looked back to the kids - “Well, introduce yourselves, make him feel welcome - DON’T smother him. Ask how he likes his French toast...!” You gave a wink to your boyfriend “Andrew, honey, you can sit down. And honestly, if they get too much you have my permission to tell them to get lost!”

There were wines of protest yet again from the group, but they politely didn’t coddle him all at once. You watched him pay close attention to all of them as they told him their names in age order. Five boys. Three girls. And from what he could tell from a variety of backgrounds and nationalities; Alexei, Ignacio, Lucas, Genevieve, Connor, Harriet, Laurence and Carrie.  And nicknames, like he didn’t have enough to learn. Satisfied he’d got it all down he turned back to the only person in the room that hadn’t moved; “How I like my French toast?” He raised an eyebrow at you; “Dunno, about time I - with the help of the dream team - make you breakfast. And you’re the guest Andrew, so you pick, as you might have heard from the commotion these guys can’t decide.” He held his hands up “I like surprises!” That made them all turn to him; “Andrew! Pick my idea!” “No!! Andrew mine is better!!! Mine!!!” You sighed, “Guys what did I just say! Give him a break!” He laughed “How do you like it?” “Me?” You pointed to yourself “oh, I’m a simple girl…” He leant his head on his hand with a small smile; “Well, I don’t mind that.” “Are you guys flirting-!” “Shut up!” You pushed one of the older boys; “you just earned yourself chores Alexei!” “Aw c’mon!” “No as the oldest you know I need your help, get back here.”

 Andrew watched you collect Alexei, Lucas and Gen together to help you, and turned back to the rest of them. He tried to remember each name very carefully, and work out all their attributes. Well, it was what he did best… They all looked very different, and seemed to have wildly unique personalities. That helped, it made things easier. But it didn’t make it any less information to take in. So pretty soon he was back to studying you and your worktop;

“Oh, hold on...” he pointed to the vividly coloured juice standing to one side, “Is this one of your super-secret smoothies?” Your eyes flicked to him with a tiny smirk; “Maybe.” Carrie gasped; “Have you had one?!” Andrew turned to her with a shake of his head “Don’t think I ever got that far...” “Y/N!!!!” You held your hands up to protest innocence “It’s not like I haven’t offered.” “Well,” He scoffed, folding his arms “a sip isn’t a glass.” You narrowed your eyes at him; see - Andrew knew the game and he was playing into it easily. Get the kids on side, you win the argument no matter what. His tone matched in playful amusement that almost threatened to cross his face. He’d done this his entire life in just about every situation you could think of. There’s no way he wasn’t gonna for here. That all had them gasping and turning to you in horror; “Oh For Goodnessake! He can have some here-! Don’t you all start on me!!” But you knew they would, Andrew Cody was already flexing his muscles to take this family over. And none of them would have any idea. Sneaky little…!! But you laughed to yourself, if it made his comfortable you weren’t about to blame him. You picked up your mug of coffee, allowing the older children to finish their own toast under your watchful eye as a calm lul fell over the table as they shot him a lot of much easier childish questions. And he answered with a kind of childish enjoyment. Until through all the quieter questions, Gen cut across from where she was standing with you. “Have you two kissed?!” You almost choked on your coffee at the way she made it sound like the most scandalous thing the two of you could possibly do, oh the pure innocence of children Andrew leant on his hand again with an amused smile and responded as only he could; “Mmm hmm!” She covered her mouth with her hand and looked to you with wide eyes. You just gave a gentle shrug and tried to ignore the look on Alexei’s face at her question. Yeah alright, let her think that’s the most intimate thing that can happen! * You made them all sit up to the table with him and quiet down as you plated up French Toast and poured everyone drinks. “Alright, eat slow, drink slower, breathe...” “Can we say Grace?” “You may...” Andrew gave you a look, to which you shook your head. Not unless he wanted to, you weren’t about to make him play to every whim of your littlest siblings. In fact as they all closed their eyes and spoke in unison, you continued around the kitchen, and Andrew’s eyes followed you. They were all straight in when they’d finished, but he was still staring at you. “What?” You mouthed, and he just shook his head.  He liked watching you. That wholesomeness that seemed nearly incorruptible by his life. He liked seeing you be you.

You loved that look, even when there wasn’t a smile on his face, that look in his eyes drew you to him. You liked the shirt he was wearing today, the red stripes in different colours, and you were rewarded for your curiosity with it being soft cotton, as you gathered him in your arms; running your fingers into his hair, he let out a soft hum, picking up his glass as you kissed the top of his head. He took a sip. “Mmm. No, that’s good...” Andrew ran one of his own arms around your waist and tipped his head back to catch your lips with his. “Oh? Compliments Mr.Cody?” “Well, I only save them for you...” He murmured, and you let him steal another, before nodding to his toast; “You’re missing out on the best bit.” “Oh yeah?” “Ohhh Yeah.” You leant on his shoulder to watch the way he meticulously cut it, and then stopped turning to you; “Is that chocolate, miss?” “Uh huh.” “You are unbelievable.” He pulled it apart delicately and made sure he wouldn’t drip it everywhere as he took a bite. “Mmmmm.... mmmmm!!!” “Y/N! he likes it!! He likes it!!!” “Oh I’ll say!” You gave Connor a wink “Okay, how?!” “You perfect French Toast and then you decide what works best...” you swept your hand to the table “And get yourself a bunch of taste testers, for whom you cater to every whim.” You turned to him; “And a boyfriend who should never have told me his favourite chocolate.” Extremely bitter and dark and only on occasion. At least you knew no one else around the table was about to touch it. “What, gonna use it against me now?” “No!!” You rebuked that teasing comment, and he chuckled, pulling him to you again for another kiss.

There were footsteps from the other end of the living room and suddenly screams of: “DAD! DAD!! They’re flirting!!!” “DAAAD!! They’re kissing!!!” Your father chuckled “I can see that.” “Oh my god-!” But neither you nor Andrew let each other go; “Everyone is treating me like a teenager!” Your father smacked Andrew on the back; “No. It’s just good to see you with a sensible man for once!!” That only made Andrew laugh a little harder and he turned his attention back to you; “Bad experiences?” “You are not hearing about my ex boyfriends.” “Oh Andrew, we’ll be here until Christmas!” “What-!? DAD!!” That had the kids laughing too, even though they were all far too young to know anything about your teenage love affairs. “Well, I know about the Fiancé...” Andrew mused, looking back to you with those intelligent blue eyes. “Yes, and?” Your dad huffed at that; “You’re much better for her, don’t you worry about him.” “Oh my god!” You buried your face in your hands, as everyone once again laughed “You were gonna let me marry him!!” Your father gave a shrug “I was hoping you might come to your senses...” He nodded to Andrew with a smile; “I’m glad to see you did.” Andrew gave a sweet smile and all but let you go, turning back to his breakfast “Well, uh, thank you, Sir...”

Your dad gave a wise nod; “Now the question here, Andrew, is do you want a real drink? Not that Y/N making breakfast isn’t a blessing. You doing that for your parents too?!” “If you’ll sit down for five minutes and let me!” Your dad waved away your protests, Andrew swivelled back to you; “I’ll have whatever she’s drinking...” “Oh, this old thing...” your father absentmindedly waved his hands to the coffee machine.  “…Uh Sure…” But you were staring at Andrew with your mouth slightly open at the cheekiness of what he’d just said. He wanted the coffee you were drinking because he’d tasted it on your lips. That was a vailed you taste good if ever there was one. And the look on his face was daring you to out that you knew what he was saying. You held your tongue. But pushed him gently. “Y/N, I don’t know how to make it.” “Dad... sit... sit... I got this!!” He only did what you asked because you pretty much pushed him there. But that only made Andrew stand; “I’ll help.” “Babe, no, you... don’t worry about it.” “No, no, I want to help...” Suddenly your mom appeared, as if on cue for the situation. And it was clear she’d heard the whole thing; holding the youngest member of your family - at barely 5 months old - in her arms. Annie. “You see Y/N, he’s domesticated too.” She gave Andrew a wink that almost made you throw hands, this weekend you couldn’t win. And Andrew Cody has your family in the palm of his hand; “Definitely a keeper!”

*** “Y/N...” your mom touched your arm lightly as you sat on the couch paying close attention to your very youngest siblings play with Annie. Best they were careful with her; but you knew your parents were raising them right. Your parents had raised so many foster kids. Your very eldest sibling had been in your life since you were four, and he was your parents first.  Then it just snowballed from there. And there were so many of them now. A few of them had grown up here, like these kids would. Some had been welcomed as teens and left as soon as they could but they always came back. They were always part of the family. “...Hmm?” You turned to her, “Do you know where Andrew went?” You looked around. Had he even said something about leaving? Maybe... but he wouldn’t have made a big fuss about it; and you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. You frowned “No. But he might be a little overwhelmed, and be a little sick of being a climbing frame.” “Oh! He should have said something!!” “Naw...” you stood “Andrew has his own ways of saying things. They never seem to involve many words... in this case I think he’s just being polite!” You smiled “I’ll go see if he’s okay.” “Do you know where he went?” “...I know every quiet place around here. He’ll be there.” “He doesn’t have to come back, you will let him know that won’t you... I just...” She waved her arms frantically for a moment at the thought of you dragging him back to somewhere he perhaps didn’t want to be right now on her request. You took her hands in yours “Were worried... I know mom it’s okay...” you gave a smile “I appreciate it... that you’re concerned!” You embraced her “Thank you, for thinking about him...” She smiled, with a graceful shake of her head; “He’s family now... I hope he know that too...” You knew the effect of her sentence on your smile; “...If he doesn’t... he soon will...” * When you found him Andrew was standing alone in your bedroom, curtains pulled all except for a tiny crack, from which he surveyed your parents back garden and the surrounding houses. You closed your bedroom door quietly. But Andrew was all too aware of everything, so you knew that even if you’d have slammed it he wouldn’t have flinched. “Are you okay?” He kept his eyes on that bar of light; “I just needed some quiet.” “I know...” you approached him slowly, “I thought so... I’m sorry... I mean I knew they’d want to see you ... but I didn’t realise they’d practically adopt you...” “It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry, they’re kids...” you shook his head, and he turned those pretty eyes on you. They could be pretty a lot of things; pretty mysterious, pretty vacant, pretty wild, pretty sorrowful, pretty dangerous... for now they were just pretty. You crossed to him slowly, and sat on the edge of your bed “But are you okay?” “Yeah...” he nodded, voice quiet “It’s a little bit of a lot but, I’m good.” “You... around kids much?” Andrew gave a shrug of indifference to your question; “Baz’s... and my sister... she... has one... J...oshua?” He scrunched his face trying to remember. “God... I can’t have seen him since he was a baby, though.” “I didn’t know Julia had a kid...!” “Mmm! See, now you know something new.”

He sat with you, but it didn’t last long, before he sunk into your lap and rested his head there. “I just need... time for my thoughts to...” You nodded, running your fingers through his thick dark hair soothingly “I know, baby, it’s okay...” Andrew sighed, and for a moment closed his eyes; “I should really thank you...” he tracked the backs of his fingers over your knees and down your calf; he was mimicking you soothing him, but reciprocating calming you himself; “For introducing me to them.” You laughed; “Why do you say that?” “Because this is what real family is like.” Your breath caught at that smile; so pure and genuine it almost wasn’t real. Not from Andrew. “...You see me? With all of the flaws I have, and you... you still... you love that.” You raised an eyebrow, unsure you liked that sentence coming off his lips; “...Flaws? No... Andrew... no... they are a part of you... they aren’t flaws... nuances... they make you you...” “Flaws... you know what I do.” “And I told you, as long as you’re safe I don’t care...” He took a breath, gentle... unsure but decisive. His eyes clouded; maybe misty - you didn’t dare think or hope he was going to cry over this one... “I’m yours...” You tipped your head and let him lace your fingers with his; “...Not possessively...” but you smiled “...but I like that you are mine.” God knows what would become of him if not.

He closed his eyes for a minute and there was silence and a calm to his steady breathing. “Andrew...” “Hmm?” “Would you like me to go? I can leave you in peace if you want...?” “No...” he shook his head, his voice hardly above a whisper “stay... please stay...”

 *

There was a quick, few second siren blip from outside and everyone in the house collectively froze for two seconds. You instantly turned to your mother and grabbed her arm, hissing “David is coming-?!” “Yes, he wouldn’t want to miss this...” “From work??!” “Yes what’s wrong with that?” F**k! You did not want your obvious and maybe known criminal boyfriend to square up to in uniform officer, oldest foster brother; David. And David would lay into him no matter what, because that’s what David did. You didn’t want to tell Andrew about him before, mostly because you didn’t anticipate it would ever be a problem or he’d wanna come. D was grown up and moved out, and the only one close in age to you - months separated the two of you and you’d grown up together. But you hadn’t quite got to the ‘oh yeah, but the way Mr.Cody! My brothers a police officer!’ Part of your life yet and he was about to damn well walk in here!!! You took a deep breath - so did you quickly have it out with Andrew, or do you try to force David to take a detour to change clothes first? Either way - your Cody wasn’t going to let this go with a simple explanation.

You decided that getting to your brother first was the only option you had. Before anyone else got there; including Andrew. You’d just have to pull him aside later and apologise - the kids were meant to be a nice surprise. And he’d given traction enough to let you know that it was. But David... that was something else entirely. You cut the line and sprinted to the door.

“Hey crew! I’m home!” He had barely turned around and shut the door and you were there. “Holy sh*t!! Y/N!!” He grabbed you into a hug “No one said you were turning up!!! And in uniform??” “Well, I had to surprise you, didnt I...?” he watched you study it closely “You changed rank?” “I see you read my email...” You shook your head “c’mon David, no one reads email anymore...” “Uh, have you seen the people I work with??!” He looked up to the strangely empty corridor “So, where’s the boyfriend. You know I’m really hear for that, I got sick of your face years ago...” he smirked at you; “Am I still the tallest?” You gave him a look, he was 6ft7. Being the tallest was hardly difficult. But it did make his ‘people person’ face kinda intimidating. “How you been?” “Good - and yourself?” “Can’t complain can ya... crime rate is steady...” “Are we gonna get lectured all night?” “If I think ya man needs it - does he?!” You hoped your face was as stoic as you thought it was.

There was sudden yelling as your parents had clearly let the clan loose, and you took a step back as they ran at him. “Davyyyy—!!!” “Oh geez—! You guys got heavy!” He pretended that it took effort for him to lift three of them at once. “David -!!! Take us for a ride in the car!” “Uh no! It’s dinner time! Didn’t mom and dad teach you a thing?!” He put them all down “And if they didn’t I will, I’ve been working all day and I’m starving...” so your parents filed out next; “Hey mom! Dad! Thanks for having me on short notice!!” “No problem!” You shook your head; “Are you kidding??!” “It’s meant to be a surprise for you, hush!” He shoved the top of your arm, turning back to your parents “Should I get changed? I feel like I should get changed?” You saw right through that; “Though you also want the power play of sitting in your uniform all night.” He scoffed at you, folding his arms “Damn right.”

Whilst all this was going on, Andrew appeared slowly in the door way. “Alright kids, to the table, go on...” David attempted to heard them all towards the living room, and your parents ushered them along too. There was a tense moment of them both staring each other down. And you knew why; that uniform was fatal. You hoped you were too far out of the city for your brother to have any idea who the Cody’s were, but who knew... David turned to you with another slight smirk “I’m still the tallest.” He strode over to Andrew in a way that clearly put Andrew’s back up. Andrew didn’t like that - that he didn’t make the move. “You must be Andrew, I’m David. Both the oldest foster child and the experimental one. Y/N has never liked me very much, so you may be inclined to feel the same. Personally, I’d quite like to get to know ya.” Andrew’s eyes flicked past him to you, and your clearly unimpressed face. It was only a flicker, not one David noticed - and Andrew extended his hand; “Andrew Cody.” “Nice to meet you Andrew.” “Yeah...” it was a cool Yeah. A don’t mess with me yeah... and you gritted your teeth. This situation had become less than ideal. David turned to you and gave you the look you were expecting from him; talkative!, then he pointed to the stairs “I’ll get changed.” “Good call-!” His look continued until he had to swing around the bannister and face Andrew again, by which time you had your head in your hands. God give me strength to survive tonight...!

“So... he’s a police officer?” Andrew’s approach was steady, just like the way he eyed the stairs. “Uh huh...” you removed your hands from your face “I swear to you I had no idea he was coming here, if there’s one person I didn’t want you to meet...” “How old is he?” “Couple of months younger than me.. we literally grew up together...” you decided to broach the subject before he did; “You think he knows?” Andrew gained a smile you didn’t like, “If he knew who I was, I’d have been against that door in 5 seconds flat. I think I’m okay.” “Be careful.” He turned his eyes on you and his brow quirked; “Oh no. I’m gonna tell him about the next 5 jobs we plan to pull.”

You were still quietly talking to Andrew when David descended the stairs, and he cleared his throat; “Y/N! This is a family dinner, c’mon!” He moved through into the next room “oh god-! You’re not even all sat down?!” “We await the guest of honour!” “Oh right,” he took a step back and pointed to Andrew; “that means you, by the way.” You noticed that David sat himself opposite Andrew, even though every child your parents had wanted to sit somewhere in his proximity. Your look to him was a clear warning; don’t you dare! David knew everything, even though he wasn’t a blood relative, you wrapped all your secrets up in him, all the ones that (at the time) felt like he was the only one you could trust to tell. And even though he was younger than you, you always treated him like a bigger brother, and he always protected you like one. Only problem was now, as a brother and a police officer - the kind of man he was supposed to be protecting you from was sitting opposite him, and holding hands with you. “So Andrew.” you noticed the way that David narrowed his eyes, testing. “You ever seen a family quite like this...” Andrews eyes flicked around your foster brothers face. And you knew what this evening was going to be. One long damn stand-off. They were both good at reading people. It would be a battle of who could read who better.

“I mean, not to this scale...” Andrews answer was measured “I don’t have foster siblings, but I have a pretty large close-knit family myself. 3 siblings, and one who might as well be...” he gave a shrug “I mean, I’m used to this. But, maybe on a small scale. And they’re all grown up now. I haven’t experienced younger siblings for a while. It’s refreshing...” You knew every real feeling behind every measured word. “Huh! I didn’t know you had siblings!” Andrew nodded; “Brothers... Craig, Deran... One sister, Julia… Baz isn’t but he...” He made a motion to allude to what he’d just said. “Wow...” David nodded “And what do you do?” This was the question you always skipped around when your parents asked; oh you know, a bit of everything... You weren’t sure you knew the answer yourself. Not one you liked. Or they would like either. Andrew made sure to lean his arms so that his elbows weren’t on the table.  “Real estate.” David straightened, intrigued, and even your parents looked at each other. Andrew was only too happy to smile and elaborate; “My mom owns a bunch of properties, each of us takes care of things like collecting and running rent checks, regular maintenance, accounts... things like that.” “So really a bit of everything!” You mother sounded pleased, and you nodded. Exactly what you’d said! “How much do you make doing that?” David wasn’t about to beat around the bush, and was content to act like he was your father, not your brother apparently. “D!” “David!” You and your father had the same idea, and you were already glaring daggers at him. Your significant other held his hands out to calm the table; “No... it’s okay... it doesn’t pay too bad. I make enough...” he gave a slight smirk, “you might have to arrest me to get any figures out of me.” David gave a sudden smile, like Andrew was finally talking his language “Ah! You noticed the uniform. Good. And don’t forget it’s the first thing I’m gonna do when you break her heart, Andrew Cody.” You let your expression tell him to impolitely shut up.

But your evening continued as such, with David attempting to field any question that would trip Andrew up. And Andrew expertly jumping through every hoop, and daring David to throw something that was at least a challenge for him. Bad cop. But Andrew was also fielding questions from your younger siblings. Who were back to asking him mundane questions they hadn’t thought of in the morning. ...What is your favourite colour?! He mused on that like it was hard, at least harder than anything David could ask; “...Blue. Definitely blue.” You guessed you agreed; “You do wear a lot of blue.” Good cop.

 **

 As the evening wore on, and the table was cleared you found yourself standing with David in the kitchen clearing away. “What the heck is his problem?!” You turned to him “YOU have got to be kidding saying that!!? What is YOUR problem!” He passed close to you to stack plates away; “Look at the way he looks at me. It’s unnerving. And I’m a police officer. Normal people don’t give looks like that.” “Normal people don’t tell their sister’s boyfriends they’ll arrest them.” He risked a look over his shoulder. He was right though; Andrew was eyeing you both with an expression that you found unreadable. David lowered his voice “Y/N... Killers give me less chills than he does... are you sure you’re okay?!” You smacked his arm; “If you were a little f- freakin’-” only because there were kids around did you dare turn that PG “-nicer!!!” “Isn’t that my job?” “No!! Not really! I’m not a teenager anymore David. And in case you didn’t realise, neither is he.” “Yeah. I know. How old is he anyway?” “Don’t you dare!” Your look was nothing less than fierce and it caused him to at least back up a few paces. He didn’t often lay off his pushes; but this was one of those rare times David knew what was best for him. “I’m trying to look out for you.” “Will you please let me look after myself..?” He turned to lean against the counter with you. Now you were both staring at Andrew, he chose instead to let his eyes wander back to your other siblings; “...Just tell me he does too.” “What?” “Looks after you.” “Of course he does...” You nudged David “What kinda question is that?” He gave a sincere smile and turned to you; “He looks like he does.”

 *** David started clock watching at about nine, and by ten he decided he should take his leave. “You won’t stay?” “Aw no. I’ll be back at the station tomorrow.” “But you can stay here!” “No, ma! It’s okay... It’s a trek back, and I don’t wanna disturb everyone getting up either.” He hugged your parent’s goodbye and then your siblings one by one before he got to you; “Well, until the next time you decide to visit from the big city, Sis-!” You gave a shrug; “I’ll have to really surprise you next time.” “Uh huh!” He embraced you, then held out his hand for Andrew; “Andrew, a pleasure to finally meet you. Take care of her for me, will ya? And... maybe I’ll see you around next time she’s here too, huh?” “Yeah...” Though it wasn’t obvious to which question he was responding, Andrew shook it - steady and firm “Sure thing.”

You waited for your parents to say goodbye to him at the door before deciding that something was niggling at you, and you couldn’t leave it like that. You got up as they came back into the living room, tugging Andrews hand. “What?” “C’mon!” “What’s up?!” “C’mon!!” He raised an eyebrow but allowed you to pull him up and outside, to where David was just turning the ignition on his patrol car. “Oh shit! Am I getting a real send off?!” He got out of his car with a laugh, but upon the look on your face his own fell. “Or... not...” You folded your arms and looked between them; “Listen up you two. I will not have my best friend in the entire world - and brother - and my other half...” you looked between them, David of course getting the worst of it “... Who you know is damn well better than 99% of people I’ve dated in the past.” “Yeah well, we all know is never have given that guy my blessing.” “Don’t change the subject-!” But you smacked David’s arm for good measure; “-And you introduced me!!!” “Shit! Did I-!? Bad mistake...” This time you punched him hard enough for him to at least rub his arm; “...I just don’t want you two at odds...it makes me feel...” you didn’t have the word; “... I just don’t want to feel like I should take sides...”

There was a silence, where you thought they were taking a measure of what you were saying, where they would nod wisely, tell you you were right and make up. No, instead both of them cracked up in unison. You looked between them, now more confused than ever; “What-!?! What now??!!” “Oh God! Andrew!! Do you know what you’re dating?!?” David mimed wiping tears from his eyes “God bless ya, Y/N!” “What!!??!!” Your voice pitched in considerable confusion. Andrew shook his head, quelling his own laugher, so as not to be caught laughing at you for too long. “David gets it, he might not be older but he is the oldest brother. There’s a certain code between brothers and siblings and anyone new to the family - right?” David nodded “Right. Unwritten. But men would get it. Played your part to a T, Andrew.” “Ah.” He gave a shrug “Not so bad yourself.” You were still perplexed, and didn’t exactly find whatever this was funny either; “So... you two are okay?!” “Y/N... sweetie, yeah it’s fine... You would have to be more worried if I didn’t ask the hard questions... Andrew, buddy, you’re certainly worth them.” “Uh, thanks?” You weren’t sure Andrew was too enthused with being referred to as buddy though. “So you’re okay, and I don’t need to worry?” David gave a grin; “No... it’s gonna be fine... Now come here and hug me goodbye...!” You did so, but punched the palm of his hand; “You owe me.” “I know, next time you’re here...” “Oh, you can count on me winding up your date-!” “Ha!” He scoffed “Me!? Date-!? When the hell do I get the time.” “Sure, it’s the time and not your attitude.” “Oh, f**k off!!” Though he said it with slight adoration, he gave another wave back to Andrew, and then slid back into his car. Rolling off the driveway he wound down his window. “Oh! Y/N! The sky looks really good tonight! How about you take Andrew ‘round the block!” That had you both looking up. David was right, it was awash with stars; “I will... thanks D... safe travels!” “And you, back to the city!” You thanked him and both waved him off; “Round the block?” You shook your head and took Andrew’s hand in yours; “When we were kids, that simply meant the back garden...come on... come see this...”

 ***

You pulled him all the way down to the very far end of your parents’ back garden, there was a small array of benches and swings. And you knew exactly where you were sitting. “It gonna take my weight too?” Andrew looked to the tree uncertainly. “It can take the weight of 8 kids at once. I’m sure it can hold you.” He laughed, sitting with you, letting you re-lace your hand with his. “He wasn’t wrong about the sky...” Andrew breathed, and you watched how fixated he became with the stars “...Why do we never see these back home?” “We probably do...” you have a shrug “city lights...?” “Makes sense...” He mused, still staring at them. You were supposed to be joining him in that, but you didn’t. Because you discovered there was something more fascinating unfolding in front of you here on Earth. How peaceful he looked for once. How out of his head... how Andrew was finding more freedom out there in space than he’d ever had before.  Eventually his eyes fell back to yours and he realised what you were doing. “I guess... I’ve never really given them much thought.”

You raised your eyes to the sky for possibly the first time “...It’s all so far away and out of our control... everything for you is so much closer to home and in the moment...” you gave a shrug “...It has to be... but I’m glad something about being here can help you look further than that...” you smiled and looks back to him, now looking at you with similar wonder; “...Still, home... no matter where, is a good place to be.” He tipped his head. And his hold of your hand became tighter “Is that what you see... when you look at me?” You opened your mouth, you wanted to voice your question, but you weren’t sure what that would be. It didn’t matter; Andrew voiced it for you, with his eyes flicking momentarily to the house in which sat your family. But drew themselves back to you.  “Home?” *** “Y/N!” It was the morning of day two, and you were standing in the kitchen with Andrew and coffee, head resting on his shoulder, watching the kids in the garden. You thought he might prefer it quiet inside for a moment. “Mmm?” You turned to the sound of your dad’s voice. “...Would you mind taking Annie out this morning?... Oh and uh, you might wanna take Andrew, give him some respite!” Even though he’d told everyone at dinner that he had siblings, your parents could tell that this was a little too much on him. And that sometimes he disappeared; he needed some quiet, they got that too. “Yeah! Can do!” “Thanks sweetheart! Morning Andrew!” “Morning!” - Even his voice was tired and quiet today. And you knew your dad was right. Still you let Andrew finish his coffee before you thought about stepping outside.

“He makes her sound like a dog...” You were sure he was muttering to himself as he kicked the heels of his shoes into place. “She has breathing problems, hence needing fresh air, and she stresses easily - hence needing two responsible adults and no kids!” His laugh was sarcastic “Ha-! Responsible adults-!” “I dunno. I’d say you were responsible...” You nudged him, checking and rechecking the bag you needed, all set, he opened the front door for you and you were out in the street with a stroller before you knew it.

You watched the way he walked carefully, hands in his pockets, just a little in front but with you still in his peripheral vision; back straight, tense shoulders, a little too close to her. That’s instinct if ever there was... Too used to taking care of younger siblings? He was the oldest. It made sense. And it also made you smile. It was nice to meander around the neighbourhood for a little while, it was almost silent, save for nature and the occasional car.   Eventually he slowed his pace up, and walked next to you. He’s comfortable... There’s no danger... Then you found yourself smirking and he caught that; “What?” “Nothing.” “Look if I know one thing about faces... but your face in particular, it’s never nothing. Not with a smile like that-!” “Just you.” “God. What did I do?!” You nodded to Annie; “I saw what you were doing.” His eyes didn’t leave your face for a good while, even though he didn’t respond; and it got to the point of unnerving you. He was calculating what you were calculating, and couldn’t possibly have come to a different conclusion. “You think it just her I’m protecting?” You glanced across to him. “I know you Andrew Cody; you kept me in your eyeline too...” you shook your head “Maybe you’re beyond a mystery, but there’s always a few things I know for sure...” There was a huffed laugh as he looked away from you for a minute, which just made you smile more. Andrew would deny it of course. Act like you couldn’t possibly know him. But you did, and you felt he was only denying it because he knew it was fact.

When you hit the park you slowed down, and he (as in-tune as he was) slipped his hand from his pocket and into yours. “Well. This is strange, isn’t it?” He failed to see that “why?” You giggled; “Well! If we see someone I don’t know they’re going to be jumping to conclusions!” That apparently only made him hold your hand tighter “Why do they have to be the wrong conclusions?” “That’s not what I said!” “No, but, that’s what you implied.” You tipped your head to him for a minute. The was no reason for people not to think she was yours, is where you were heading - but Andrew, as full of surprises as he was, apparently wouldn’t even care. You weren’t sure if he struck you as a kids type or not. But if you’d ever thought otherwise this weekend might just be proving you completely wrong.

Eventually you decided that his respite was well earned and you gave him a bit more by sitting him on a bench. “See” he nodded to Annie “I like her, she’s quiet!” That made you laugh; “Oh! So the rest of my siblings are just awful then!?” “God, especially David - he’s the worst!” You laughed harder “I can see that - guess I always felt the same way.” Andrew chuckled “No. I... I really like your family... I guess this is what normal family is like...” he bit his lip “We never really had that...” You gave a shrug; “Is family ever really normal?” “More normal than mine...” He gave a sigh of discontent “Y/N... I just... I don’t know if I can give you that...” Your eyes widened as you turned to him, this had suddenly turned very serious very quickly. “Andrew I-” “I mean do you ever see that kind of future...?” The longer you hesitated, the more unhappy in his own thoughts he would become; “...I see a future...” You turned those gorgeous eyes back on you and he took your hands; “If you see that I will give you everything... I just can’t guarantee what that everything will be...” You pushed your forehead to his, and whispered; “Then don’t guarantee me anything... -Andrew.... right now, I just want you... and that’s more than enough...” --- Happy Birthday Amanda! I hope you enjoyed your Andrew 💜💙 You deserve him 💕 @dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.

[kariachi]

For a moment I wondered why Kevin’s sections are always longer than Argit’s in this au, then I remembered that Argit’s generally have fewer people involved and less going on...

Chapter 6, now with fashion and family time.

They were a few months out from the big day and Argit was done. The constant back and forth that came with trying to plan a wedding he’d love without actually involving him in the planning, he could handle. The feeling like he was arguing with a stranger third-hand and from the other side of the galaxy, he could handle. But when his father had sent someone in to get his measurements so new clothes could be made?

As someone who’d been making his own for what felt like forever he was just not having it.

He’d finally taken control of the situation- dumping the bureaucratic work on his father’s desk with no fanfare, foisting the final stages of wedding planning onto Psyphon, cutting his siblings’ snickers down by assigning them the most menial work he could think of at the time- and given himself a job he actually enjoyed. Ever since he’d hardly left his rooms, locked away with all the fabric, sewing supplies, and inspiring pieces he could dream of. It was relaxing work, the most troubling bit was deciding what pattern to go for in the deep greys and purples he’d settled on, and was mostly working to keep his mind off just how fast time was going.

The more time he spent considering it the more nervous he got, the more he ate, the more grateful he was that he’d already adjusted his patterns to a few sizes larger than normal.

It was becoming more and more clear with time that he had no idea what he was doing or what to expect. Not only that, but that none of the people he’d have felt comfortable discussing this with had any idea either. He was going to be the first one married and the only person he knew who’d had truly serious relationships was his father, who wasn’t an option for obvious, ‘I have five kids by four women who skipped out’-shaped reasons. He didn’t know how to have a relationship, how to get to know someone, what was expected of him in a marriage. As time had gone on he’d found himself spending more and more of his free time looking up everything from Osmosians to humans to marriage advice to housing because apparently setting up a house together was a thing you were supposed to do maybe? Sorta? Kinda?

Anymore if he wasn’t working on his clothes (and his father’s clothes, and his siblings’ clothes, and Psyphon’s clothes-) he was probably on the ethernet going cross-eyed with his researching. Generally accompanied by at least one pie.

~~

Pupating came with a lot of changes, mental and physical, ones that couldn’t be properly predicted for hybrids. There was endless variance there. Which meant not only that they hadn’t been able to do any planning involving Kevin’s looks before he broke free, but that as soon as he’d adjusted enough to the new body to stand and speak his family had converged on him like vultures on a dead buffalo.

“Dress or pants?”

 “Whichever’s cool.”

 “…we’ll get both made, you can choose on the day.”

Kevin was only really half paying attention to everything. There was a full-length mirror right there and while he wasn’t a vain man between dysphoria and oncoming maturity his adolescent mimicry had felt wrongwrongwrong. Not that things were perfect now by a long shot, but people kept having to drag him back into position as he twisted and turned to admire things like his mane and finally flat chest.

“Straight and relaxed, gyadin,” his gran said with a sharp tug on his mane and he immediately complied, drawing snickers from the rest of his little entourage.

“Yes, memu.” He felt as much as heard the pleased rumble she made as she returned to measuring the base of his tail.

“You know, if we can get this measuring done in time to make you clothes, you’re going to look wonderful. Just like your father.”

“He looks more like you,” his mother countered, fiddling with his hair same as she had been the last fifteen minutes, “Devin was narrower across, pretty much everything really.”

“He’s got Dad’s colors though,” Cody said. He’d been going through a thick pile of fabric swatches for the entire time he’d been there, occasionally whistling for the opinion of Vivi, sat on the floor across from him. Near as Kevin could tell she was trying to figure out some beadwork designs combining the maternal heritages she was part of and the paternal she hardly knew, and Cody was helping her as much as she was him. Finally, he held up swatches of rich blue and golden-yellow that stood in bold contrast to Kevin’s dark adult scales. “What do you think?”

“Gorgeous,” Kevin’s mother said before he could open his mouth. His grandmother got to her feet and smiled brightly down at the selection from over his shoulder.

“And fitting,” she said, turning her smile between him and Cody, “they’re a good enough match for some of your enku’s pack’s traditional colors.”

“So,” Kevin cut in, “I take it I don’t get a say in colors anymore?”

“No.”

“Some advice, little brother,” Cody said, smiling in bemusement, “just roll with it until you’re married, then blame everything on your husband. They can’t pull rank there.” Both older women gave him a critical look.

“Kafan, remind me to talk to Regina about double-checking with Mala?”

“Gladly.” Huffing, the old Osmosian turned Kevin to face her, looking him over. “Do you want some real married advice?” For a split second he wanted to say no, he was fine, but then remembered that he was going to be married in two months and had to lock his knees to stay up straight. Fuck, yeah, he had no idea what he was doing, why had he not got this worrying done sooner?

“That’d be nice, yeah.” Her expression softened back to a smile and she gave him a quick kiss.

“When he’s a dumbass,” she said, “and trust me he will be, all men are-”

“Memu.”

“As your brother proves, giving out his tactics in public.” Again Vivi was snickering. “When he’s a dumbass, give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s plenty of times he’ll do something that upsets you without realizing.”

“Just don’t let him get away with it too much,” Cody added. “He gets three chances for every bullshit thing you correct him on and if he fails you tell us, we’ll bring you and whatever you want right back home.” Kevin chuckled.

“Including the house?” Setting down her designs, Vivi rolled her eyes.

“Kevin, even Sid would dig up a house and move it across the galaxy for you, if just to spite anyone who hurt you. Anyway,” she then said, bringing her attention back to the sketches, “my advice? Don’t be afraid to walk away from a fight and come back later when you’re calmer.”

“Also,” Cody said, “just, be nice. Compliments, gratitude, being respectful.” He gave a bit of a wistful sigh. “The easier and more pleasant you two make things for each other, the happier your home will be and the sooner things will start really working for you.” Kevin nodded along, soaking in the information. Vivi was a wildcard, but Cody was over ten years wed and their grandparents had been married longer than the US had been a country, and he trusted all of them.

“Good advice, all around,” his mother finally said, “but I’ve got more important.” Gently she turned him 180 degrees to face her. “Learn from my mistakes and communicate. Talk about everything, tell him how you feel about everything, any struggles you’re having, any hopes you have, things you want, and encourage him to do the same.” Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a finger for silence. “I know this is something you have trouble with, because of all the things you had to get from me that was it, but trust me. There’s so much trouble and pain you can avoid if you just talk to your partner. Alright?”

The breath Kevin took was shaky. Everyone knew why, why this was the advice she was giving, and the silence in the room was palpable. With another, steadying breath Kevin nodded.

“Alright. Thanks mom.” You could see the tension wash off his mother’s shoulders as the two of them smiled at each other. Her gaze went soft and nostalgic as she finally took the time to step back and just look at him, before diving forward to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest. It was with a watery smile of his own and a surprised delicacy (fuck, he hadn’t realized until that moment how much bigger than his human relatives he was now…) that he returned the gesture.

“Look at this,” she said with a watery laugh, “my baby’s all grown up.”

[skywalkersapprentice]

Day 13- Look

Anakin and Obi-Wan can communicate though just a look. This is an everlasting annoyance to their peers.

rating: g

pairing: none

word count: 1672

(read on ao3)

Note: I love Quinlan Vos. That is all.

“The right tunnel is a dead end and the left tunnel is blocked,” Ahsoka reported, returning to the group. “There must have been a cave in. There's no getting around it.”

“A cave in?” Anakin frowned, pulling up their map of the caves. “That wasn't part of the plan.”

“I'm afraid it's part of the plan now,” Obi-Wan said. “Any ideas?”

Ahsoka blew on her hands. The ice caves of Iralon were not the best place to get lost, or stuck. They were freezing, narrow, and not to mention, confusing. The ice was so shiny it was almost like a mirror, making it look like there were three times as many tunnels. They'd been relying on the map of the caves so far, but if they had to stray from it's path, they could get into some serious trouble.

“Sir,” Cody said to Obi-Wan. “Directly below us is another tunnel. If we could cut down to it, we could take that route instead. It would take much longer to reach our destination, but it would be possible.”

“And there's another one through the wall to our right,” Rex put in. “It's a lot faster, but we'd have to cut directly through an Ire-Wolf den.”

“Whatever we're going to do, we'd better decide quickly,” Kix said. “It's gonna get a lot colder in here once the sun goes down.”

“How much longer would your route take us, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Approximately two hours, sir.”

Ahsoka winced. That was cutting it way too close to their deadline. But did they dare sneak through a den of Ire-Wolves?

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged a long look. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin frowned, shaking his head. Obi-Wan stroked his beard and sighed.

“What if we just-” Anakin began.

“Anakin.”

“I know, but think-”

“Yes, but if that goes wrong, we would-”

“Yeah. You're right. What about-”

“No, that's too risky.”

“Cmon, don't you trust me?”

“Yes, and that's what worries me.” Obi-Wan sighed again. “Alright. We'll do it your way.”

“Can you repeat that again in Basic?” Ahsoka said, folding her arms. “Or any language that the rest of us understand?”

Obi-Wan and Anakin glanced her way.

“We're going to take the shortcut through the wolf den,” Obi-Wan said. “The wolves will sleep until dusk, and if we leave now, we should be able to make it through without disturbing them. The three of us can use the Force to help mask our presence.”

That was a solid plan, in Ahsoka's opinion. But it didn't explain how they had come up with that in the space of a look and a half-verbal conversation.

She exchanged a glance with Rex, who seemed as baffled as she felt. Rex shrugged briefly, then snapped to attention. “Alright, men, you heard the General. Where are those laser cutters? It's time to get to work.”

Ahsoka activated her lightsaber to help cut through the ice. She pushed her confusion aside. If the plan worked, she supposed it didn't matter how they came up with it.

**

Mace Windu was headed to a council meeting when he heard raised voices, just around the corner. He frowned to himself as he realized who was causing the commotion- it was Kenobi and Skywalker, as usual.

“I'm not saying that, Master.”

“Are you certain? I don't think you realize how dangerous that line of thinking is.”

“What is dangerous about bringing security to the Republic?”

“You aren't listening-”

“I'm not listening?”

“Anakin. One man should not have as much power as the Chancellor has been collecting throughout this war.”

“It's necessary. And he's going to give that power back to the Senate when the war is over.”

“I only hope that you're right.”

“What do you have against the Chancellor, Obi-Wan?”

There was silence after that. Mace, wondering, if they were finally done arguing, stepped around the corner only to be greeted with a staring contest. Kenobi's arms were crossed and Skywalker's mechanical arm was clenched in a fist by his side. If they'd noticed him, they gave no sign.

Skywalker seemed to be searching Kenobi's face for something. After a moment, the fight drained out of him. They broke eye contact and the tension in the air shattered as well.

“Be wary of your feelings, Anakin,” were Kenobi's parting words. The two of them went their separate ways, the Force roiling uneasily around them.

Finally, Kenobi noticed Mace heading toward him. His troubled expression shifted into something more pleasant. “Good evening, Master Windu.”

“Evening,” Mace replied, as neutrally as he could. He didn't know how to bring up their silent communication without revealing that he'd been eavesdropping, so he decided to let it go.

The Force tended to behave strangely around Skywalker. Perhaps this was another one of his quirks.

***

“Kenobi! Hey man, it's been a while!”

Quinlan grinned his most irritating grin and clapped Kenobi on the shoulder as he came up behind him. Kenobi winced, but hid it well behind a rather pained smile.

“Hello, Vos,” he replied neutrally.

“Ah, and Skywalker, I presume,” Quinlan continued, already moving on to Kenobi's companion. “Good to finally meet you. Kenobi, do we still do introductions on Coruscant? I've forgotten.”

Kenobi looked like he had a bit of a headache. “Quinlan Vos, this is Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, Quinlan Vos. ”

Skywalker was amused. “I've heard about you. Don't you spend most of your time undercover in the Outer Rim? What are you doing on Coruscant?”

“My current target has moved here,” Quinlan replied, “meaning I get a break. Where are the two of you off to next?”

“Anakin is remaining on Coruscant for the time being and I'm heading out to Saleucami,” Kenobi said, sounding not at all sorry to be leaving.

“Ah, too bad,” Quinlan said. “Well, Skywalker, let me know if you have any free time coming up. I have some great stories about your Master, if you want to hear them.”

Skywalker looked delighted. Kenobi glanced back and forth between Skywalker and Quinlan, as if all of his nightmares were coming true at once. “Force help me,” he muttered. “Anakin, don't listen to him.”

Skywalker raised an eyebrow at Kenobi, grinning. Kenobi pressed his lips together and shook his head and Quinlan got the distant impression that he was missing something.

If Kenobi had learned to telepathically communicate and hadn't told Quinlan, they would be having some words later.

“So this is-”

“Yes,” Kenobi said.

“Are you sure I can't-”

“No, Anakin, and if you do, I will know.”

It was like watching a fast-paced gravball game. Quinlan blinked.

“Sorry,” he said, “but that was just creepy.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” Kenobi said. “I must be off, though. The fleet leaves in an hour.”

“May the Force be with you,” Anakin said. Kenobi nodded, repeated the sentiment, then strode off down the hall.

“What was that about, anyway?” Quinlan said once he was gone. Anakin winced.

“Sorry, Vos,” he said. “As much as I'd love to hear those stories, I think Obi-Wan might actually kill me if I agreed.”

“You guys couldn't have just said that out loud?” Quinlan said incredulously, and Anakin just smirked.

“Now where's the fun in that?” he said, and Quinlan was starting to believe he might have met his match.

He liked this kid.

**

Anakin knew what people thought.

Some wondered if he or Obi-Wan were telepathic. Others figured it was his enhanced Force abilities. He was pretty sure he had Mace Windu half convinced he was drawing on some dark side power.

In reality, it was none of those things. The simple fact was, that after over ten years of living in each other's pockets, he and Obi-Wan had gotten really good at reading one another.

Anakin knew that a certain frown meant Obi-Wan was tired, just as Obi-Wan knew when Anakin's arm was acting up by the way he curled his fingers. He knew that Obi-Wan would rebuke all efforts of banter by the tone of his voice,  and occasionally, Obi-Wan knew he was upset before he himself did.

Of course, the Force helped. Sometimes he found himself on the exact same wavelength as his former Master, and then it was as if they were sharing one mind. Conversations then tended to only be half out loud, which was incredibly confusing to their peers.

To look at Obi-Wan and know what he was thinking was as easy as speaking aloud.

Of course, it did have it's downsides.

“Oh,” Anakin said in surprise as the door to the Temple hangar slid open. “Hello, Master.”

Obi-Wan nodded a greeting. “Where are you off to?”

“Thought I'd take a drive,” Anakin said vaguely. As he'd learned, it was always best to keep as close to the truth as he could.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows creased together- he suspected something. Anakin forced his face to remain impassive. “A drive, at this hour?”

“It's a nice morning,” Anakin replied. It was- and it would be even nicer if he could spent it with his wife. “If you'll excuse me...” He tried to walk through into the hangar, but Obi-Wan still hadn't moved.

“Anakin,” he began, then stopped. He didn't say anything else after that, but Anakin could read the silence well.

It was something he'd been doing for a long time.

Why won't you tell me what we both know I know?

Anakin thought about it, just as he did every time they had an encounter like this. He considered coming clean, telling Obi-Wan everything.

It would be so easy.

And it would ruin everything.

Just as he had every time before that, he sidestepped Obi-Wan, neatly avoiding eye contact.

“I'll see you later.” I'm sorry.

“Be careful, Anakin.” So am I.

Anakin and Obi-Wan knew each other well. They were two sides of the same coin, the ultimate team. Everyone knew that.

But sometimes, Anakin reflected as he drove out into the Coruscant morning, it was as if they didn't know each other at all.

[jeremystrele]

The Perks Of Being a Food Writer, According To One Of Australia’s Top Restaurant Critics!

The Perks Of Being a Food Writer, According To One Of Australia’s Top Restaurant Critics!

Dream Job

by Amelia Barnes

Gemima Cody, senior restaurant critic at The Age. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

As well as being a critic, Gemima is also a keen home cook. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Details in Gemima’s home. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Gemima writes the scored Good Food review every week, as well as contributing to their new monthly magazine, website, and the annual Good Food Guide. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

One of her favourite new places is Old Palm Liquor in Brunswick East, where we joined Gemima for a drink! Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Gemima says, ‘Old Palm Liquor has made me the most excited I’ve been in a long time.’ Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

‘During ‘off season’ I’m eating out two to three times a week, and in the ‘on season’ (February to August) I can be travelling and eating out every single day,’ says Gemima. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

‘It’s really great work, but it has to be your life,’ says Gemima. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Gemima regularly shares snaps of her favourite dishes on Instagram! Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Old Palm Liquor. Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Photo – Amelia Stanwix for The Design Files.

Did you know every restaurant reviewed in The Age’s Good Food section is personally and anonymously visited by one of the team’s critics, and everything consumed is paid for by the publication? That might sound obvious, but in the current media landscape, to hear of a publication investing over $250,000 (!) a year in restaurant bills alone is truly remarkable.

Gemima Cody is The Age’s senior restaurant critic, who writes the scored review every week, as well as contributing to their new monthly magazine, website, and the annual Good Food Guide.

As the child of small business hospitality owners, Gemima does not take her job as a restaurant critic lightly. She knows a review can make or break a business, and brings this empathetic understanding to every restaurant she critiques.

The most important verb in the get-your-dream-job lexicon is…

Perseverance. I feel very uncertain about a lot of things in life, and I’ve had terrible imposter syndrome almost the entire time I’ve done this job, because it’s a position of authority. So, persevering through it, and through a lot of doubt, has been key.

When I grew up I wanted to be…

I grew up in central NSW, about 50 kilometres from Bathurst, where my family runs a holiday business. It’s kind of like Kellerman’s from Dirty Dancing – lots of organised activities for families – but with the Australian bush and horses. I was cooking in the kitchen from when I was 10, and by the time I was 15 my Mum could leave to run errands and I would be completely running the kitchen.

When I was around 11 years old, someone came up to do a review of my parents’ restaurant and I thought then, ‘I’m good at English, and I like food, maybe I could be a food reviewer?’ but I never thought about it again. I went onto study multimedia and law, then worked in television production for a bit, before moving into food writing.  

I landed this job by…

I started at The Age in 2014, but before that I was the food and drink editor at Time Out Melbourne. I had a friend who worked for Time Out in Sydney, so she got me involved with doing small reviews in Melbourne, before they officially launched here. I then eventually became one of their two first staff members. I got headhunted by The Age while at Time Out.

A typical day for me involves…

Each week I do the main review for the Good Food section (formerly known as Epicure), and I write all the news pieces. During The Good Food Guide season (also known as ‘eating season’!) we go on the road and visit places all around Australia. During this time, I’ll do an additional 30 to 40 reviews.

There’s a team of 50 critics who write all the reviews for the guide. Every single restaurant of the 500 that end up in the guide, plus the ones we go and review that don’t make it in, gets re-reviewed every single year. It costs well over $250,000 to do just in restaurant bills.

This year I did a good chunk of South Australia, as well as Margaret River. I did 16 restaurants and they were all degustations. Because they were all tasting menus, I ate 168 dishes in 11 days.

During ‘off season’ I’m eating out two to three times a week, and in the ‘on season’ (February to August) I can be travelling and eating out every single day.

In a day I’m doing a review, I get up at 6.30am to try and exercise, get coffee, and go on the internet. I generally work in the office during the day, at The Age’s office next to Southern Cross station. I might come in a tiny bit later than 9am, because I basically won’t get home until 9pm or after, so it’s a really long day. It’s a full day at work, with eating out on top of it. It’s really great work, but it has to be your life.

Occasionally I’ll work from home if I’m just doing writing, because it’s less distracting. I’ll spend those days calling people up, and chasing up leads by whatever means necessary. I’ll be doing phone interviews, booking pictures to go with reviews, and having meetings. Somewhere in between I’ll write some copy, stare blankly at a wall, write some more copy, walk outside, come back inside, hate myself, maybe cry… that’s just me though. I don’t think I’ve got through many reviews without at some point getting so frustrated and going, ‘I don’t know how to do this as a job.’ It’s like I’ve never written a restaurant review before – every single time.

The most rewarding part of my job is…

When I get to discover something that no one’s come across yet, especially when it is a new and young operator who’s doing really well. So, being able to be the first person to give them that recognition and tell that story. It’s not always like that, so it’s nice when it is.

It’s a job where you’re working creatively, but you’re also watching other people doing their form of art, and that’s always inspiring.

On the other hand, the most challenging aspect is…

Living your life in the public. Even though this job is supposed to be anonymous (I will book at restaurants under false names, with a fake email and use friend’s phone numbers) – my photo is still in the paper, and I’ve been doing this for 10 years now, so people are on the lookout. My photo is inside the kitchen at lots of new places along with all the other main critics.

I’ve had to say some not entirely glowing things about restaurants in my time – I don’t take pleasure in it. I think some people don’t like taking criticism from women in particular, and I’ve had campaigns to get me fired. It’s fair when you are in a job that is criticising other people that you then attract that, but I don’t feel that comfortable going out anymore. It’s not that relaxing, and that’s challenging, because I love going out.

The culture of my workplace is…

There’s a community of understanding, because on one hand, this is the absolute best job in the world, but on the other, there are some real challenges to it. Not being able to control what goes in your mouth for most of your life, and the associated health stuff that comes with that, combined with doing creative writing half the time, is hard. But, you can never, ever, say that to anyone who’s not a food writer! No one will ever feel sorry for you, but other food writers get it.

We’re a close team. We’ll sometimes travel together, and we’ll have to bunker down doing all these restaurant reviews in a random town, while staying in the same hotel room.

The best piece of work advice I’ve ever received is…

‘It’s not about you.’ I think it’s really easy to get caught up in your head, and really worried about what people think, but everyone else is focused on their thing. Everyone is actually thinking about themselves, and not what you’re doing, as much as you think they might are.

In the next five years, I’d like to…

I have not had an answer to this for the past 10 years, but I’ve just worked it out in the last week. I really want to do long-form, produced podcasts, while still doing this. I’d like to go really deep on food topics, but things relatable to everyone, like the history of our fast food giants in Australia. 

What restaurants are on your radar right now?

Old Palm Liquor has made me the most excited I’ve been in a long time. My other favourite place is Etta, mostly because of the new chef.

Places that are less new but are my favourite are Tipo 00, and a lot of wine bars with female chefs. They just cook in a different way – they genuinely do. There’s a lot more dishes that are driven by the ingredients. I feel like there’s less ego in it. 

Do you have any advice to aspiring food writers?

Be quite straightforward and not overly flowery with your language. Keep it short, tight and properly descriptive, and draw parallels between things when people might have a reference point.

We always have a list of banned words each year that is sent out to reviewers, because there was a time that every reviewer was saying ‘the chocolate pudding is sinful’. The chocolate pudding is not sentient!

Is it hard critiquing businesses among Australia’s relatively small hospitality industry?  

There are no friendships. There’s a lot of publications that do pieces about openings and that kind of thing, where the restaurant will tell you what they’re trying to achieve – that’s the aspirational view. But when it comes to an actual restaurant critique, you have to go in and analyse how well they’re living up to the bar that they’ve set for themselves. I lose a lot of sleep knowing I’ve got to give a bad review.

I don’t like being harsh on businesses, because in most cases, people are trying. I think people often don’t give enough credit to just how hard it actually is to run a restaurant successfully – it’s so many moving parts – and people just expect that everything is good as a baseline and it’s really not. It’s a lot of work. 

How would you hope those in the hospitality industry would describe you?

I would hope they think I’m respectful and fair, because I do respect this industry and the work that people do. I put everything into trying to soften the blows, and make them constructive.