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vidavalor · 3 months

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I was wondering if you've talked about why Gabriel was on a jog in season 1 episode 4. It always felt off to me since it's such a human activity

Hi @anxious-al! 💕 Hope you're having a nice week so far. *gets the mugs* as there's always hot chocolate available for Gabriel-themed questions. 😊

What a time to be going for a "human" jog, eh? This takes place on the morning of The Last Day of The World:

Gabriel is supposed to destroy this planet later that day and he's down on it, alone, jogging in the park... why?... and what of the human woman dressed as an angel at the edge of the park?

The scene wherein Aziraphale interrupts Gabriel on a morning run in the park begins with one of the strangest moments in the series-- Aziraphale being distracted by a human woman dressed in head-to-toe gold with harp-like angel wings. She is a performance artist and her art is that she is dressed as an angel. She stands there, silent, sending her artistic message for both the characters in the story who notice her and for us as the audience to interpret. This makes her a bit meta for the story of Good Omens as a whole.

What message is The Angel Woman saying to her fellow humans with this? is a question that leads us to another one as a result:

What is Good Omens saying by using angels and demons in their story written for us humans?

Perhaps that there is divinity in humanity? Perhaps that we spend all this time glorifying holy beings that we can't prove even exist when, really, we humans embody the angelic and the demonic and everything in between? That we're really the magical ones?

The Angel Woman is a character in a story written by humans who are using angels and demons to make points about human living... and who are the other characters in this scene? Gabriel and Aziraphale... a pair of angels on Earth and who are both engaged in aspects of what they might see as "human" living.

This scene is one in the story pointing out that "human living" is really just living, period.

Aziraphale stops and contemplates the angel-dressed performance artist and that is the start of the scene. The "human cosplaying" Gabriel then jogs by them-- paralleling both the angel who lives like a human and the human who is dressed as an angel. Here's The Supreme Archangel of Heaven on the last morning on Earth and what is he doing?

He's jogging in the park. Like a human.

The episode is called "Saturday Morning Funtime" and has more Gabriel in its front half than any episode prior to it, as we begin to see that he's actually who it's named for. Everyone is miserable ahead of Armageddon but the one who has a Saturday Morning Funtime routine is Gabriel. This guy who is the commander of the armed forces of Heaven and entrapped by a supernatural fascist regime hellbent on destroying this place?

Yeah, he secretly kinda loves Earth.

Gabriel is keeping himself from going mad by carving out some escape time on Earth where he does some moderate exercise in the fresh air and clears his head. No one knows who he is down there. He's just another hot dude running in the park. It gets him away from the other angels always circling him like vultures and gives him some precious alone time.

There are other scenes that indicate that, as Earth has gone on, Gabriel has been using the power of his position to escape to it from time to time. Gabriel's only possessions until S2 are his custom-tailored clothes and they were made on Earth. He shows a curiosity about how Aziraphale chooses to live in the sushi scene in 1.01. Yes, he's judgy about it but he's judgy to hide the fact that he's asking out of interest-- rather than using the power he has to order Aziraphale not to make his own choices over it.

Gabriel is shown to be a lot more "live and let live" than he might initially seem to be. He is one of the only angels who doesn't view the demons as beneath them and he covers for Michael's relationships with them. Several scenes suggest pretty heavily that he's known about Crowley and Aziraphale for ages and has been keeping that knowledge from The Metatron. He doesn't care that Aziraphale does human things on Earth like eating or that he wants to live a more human-like existence. He doesn't totally understand all aspects of it but that doesn't stop him from being more fundamentally curious about it than anything else.

Gabriel actually doesn't care that Aziraphale's in love with Crowley. Gabriel can get the appeal, actually. Gabriel knows how it goes anyway... he's got a bit of a thing for the "informant" he references to Aziraphale in 1.01-- Lord Beezlebub, the only being he feels like he really be anything close to his true self around, who also happens to be a demon. The demons are supposed to be the angels' mortal enemies but Gabriel thinks that's kind of bullshit. They're just people and he remembers what a lot of them were like before Hell became a thing. They were smart, creative people, most of whom did little wrong but for asking the same questions that Gabriel privately asks himself daily.

So, he's been coming down to Earth to check it out for awhile, when he can come up with an excuse to escape his prison. Sometime pre-S1, he started to do more than observe and basically got himself a hobby in jogging, like a human might do. Something for him and him alone. This is a big deal because Gabriel has virtually nothing else that is own.

Gabriel doesn't own a single, non-clothing material object in S1 and never has at this point. The first present he'll ever be given is the fly in the matchbox from Beez. His clothes are his only possessions, which is partially why he's so vain about them. They are the only way he's allowed to express a sense of individuality in Heaven-- and he made that happen.

This is related to the jogging and is a much, much bigger deal than it might initially seem...

In S2, when we go back to the Job minisode era, we see that all of the angels used to dress in, more-or-less, the same thing. They all look like what they are-- members of a cult. Even The Supreme Archangel is wearing basically a white sheet roped off in gold. The homogeneity of the look is the point.

There's a psychological reason why cults of all sorts-- and armies of all sorts-- have an uniform. It's to reinforce a sense of negative groupthink over a sense of individuality. When you are allowed to dress as you wish, you have freedom of expression, and this obviously causes you to consider how you wish to express yourself to others. It gives you the free reign we all should have to be who we are-- and to be able to consider who that is and evolve our sense of self over time. This is absolutely against the mindset of dictatorships and cults and anything in that vein.

The last thing they want is for people to see themselves as individual people because that stuff gets dangerous. They might get ideas. They might form their own opinions and start to act on them. It makes people harder to control. This is why Gabriel and his clothes are so important.

The only way the whole 'everyone is basically wearing a table cloth' situation changed for the angels sometime post-Job is if The Supreme Archangel okayed it. He's the only one with just enough power to have made this happen, if not enough power to overthrow The Metatron on his own. Gabriel saw Aziraphale begin to wear different things on Earth with the built-in excuse of Aziraphale having to blend in with the humans and white robes were no longer a style that would work.

Aziraphale, as a result, became the first angel to have an excuse to express himself as an individual because he got to choose what he'd like to wear while he was on Earth. Gabriel noted this and basically said to himself that looks fun. Our dude was very tired of this white robe situation and seeing Aziraphale get to play made Gabriel want to as well so he went to Aziraphale at some point and basically said teach me about what the humans are doing about clothes.

Gabriel had an excuse to change his look, too-- he'd have to go to Earth sometimes to do Supreme Archangel Checking Up On Stuff Things. He'd have to look like a human, too. He loved it. Playing human dress up was super fun and brought all new kinds of thoughts. What fabrics he liked, what looks he liked, what he thought about how the different clothes looked on him, what made him feel different ways about himself. Clothes are self-expression, after all-- they reflect how we feel about ourselves and support the image we are trying to project. Gabriel got into this, big-time, and then turned around and asked the dangerous question to himself:

What if we did this in Heaven, too?

What if he used what power he had to change the rules about what the angels wore? What if he told everyone they could wear whatever they wanted? The army would still have an uniform for when they were running drills or whatever and maybe there'd be a color-scheme because Gabriel knew The Metatron was going to lose it about this so he came up with some parameters but he basically overthrew the tablecloth tyranny and told every other angel that they were free to express themselves the way they wanted and, if you ask me? That's why he and The Metatron are snarking about Gabriel's suit during his trial.

The Metatron never got over the fact that Gabriel pushed the clothes thing and knew how to get just enough of what he could without making it more trouble than it was worth to kill him over it. The Metatron takes some evil delight in telling Gabriel that "appropriate raiment" will be provided for him-- he'll have to wear what The Metatron dictates, in other words-- now that he'll be a bottom-of-the-barrel junior recording analyst. Gabriel, though?

He got the last laugh. He used taking off his suit as a reason to leave, along with clearing out his non-existent desk, and fled Heaven buck ass naked rather than put up with The Metatron's bullshit for another minute.

The moment Crowley fell in love with Gabriel was when he saw just how much Gabriel loathes The Metatron in these just take me out back and shoot me ffs faces he was making during his trial:

Anyway, the point is that all the angels are following Gabriel's lead and that's probably half the reason why almost everyone in Heaven dresses in a variation of Aziraphale or Gabriel's styles. (Ever notice how Michael and Uriel look like they're in some kind of suit battle and both of them are trying to emulate Gabriel a bit?) While many of the angels aren't really reinventing the rules of fashion up there, the idea worked: they all look different from one another. They all can express themselves as they desire when it comes to how they look. They've all had to think about themselves for at least long enough as it takes to come up with outfits and view themselves as an individual person to do so.

It's perhaps worth noting in here then, too, how funny it is that The Metatron is a floating head... that's how he presents himself. He's the one character who doesn't have a body. It's symbolic of how he feels he's above even the idea of having anything like the pesky needs of human corporation. The ideal of Heaven is him, in his eyes, and he is above the vessel through which all living beings actually live...

...and the one challenging him every step of the way as much as he can is The Supreme Archangel...

...who, amusingly, happens to have a rather pleasing physical corporation appreciated by many, many different sorts of beings.

Looked at that way? Gabriel's peacocking about his clothes is not pure vanity but just the best example of what little rebellious fires he's been able to start Up there. A focus on clothes is also a focus on your body-- for better or worse-- and so it's not really surprising that Gabriel's Earthly hobby is looking goooood in some grey sweatpants while he escapes a little from the pressures of his world.

There's something kind of delicious about Gabriel deciding that he has some Saturday Morning Funtime now-- he has an exercise routine. He's like peace out, MetaT-- I'm going to take my fantastic corporation *jogging*. Rot in Hell, you fascist Mr. Potato Head...

Aziraphale is interruping Gabriel's alone time in 1.04 and if you look closely, you'll notice that Gabriel actually looks upset as he's running before Aziraphale sees him. He doesn't actually want to destroy Earth. He feels he has no choice and he's terrified of The Metatron but he likes Earth. He doesn't fully understand of it-- to be fair to him, no one really does lol-- but he likes it enough to have been escaping to it for awhile now.

By S2, in a parallel scene to the jogging one, Aziraphale will be beginning to get the idea of him and Gabriel both having versions of the Heaven-induced perfectionism and anxiety a bit more, though... and about how that's not any different from humans who go through the same thing.

The angel human doing performance art (complete with foreshadowing the discus halo) in S1:

The art of the Gabriel statue in Edinburgh in S2:

In S2, the art is a human-made sculpture deitifying Gabriel. It causes Aziraphale to further consider what life might have been like for a being who is, really, just some dude, but who has been held up as a holy symbol in this way by angels and humans alike.

Adding to this is that the statue of Gabriel is in the middle of a human graveyard. While this has a really eerie layer in S2 considering that we see it after Gabriel has fallen, which is a kind of death, and now lives among the humans, there's a way of looking at it that is also in keeping with what S1's human performance artist angel was talking about-- there's not this big line between these kind of beings.

Emphasizing this? The Angel Woman isn't just dressed as an angel-- she is also wearing a dress and a human sun hat. She reflects how having a halo hanging over your head symbolizing your need to be perfect in a way that causes you to see yourself as someone who should be above humans is not just an angelic thing-- it's a very human thing, too. That's the point of these angels and demons in Good Omens. They're just like us in every way that really matters and their stories are no different at the core from what we experience.

Crowley and Aziraphale actually have it a lot better than most of the angels and demons. They have been able to live on Earth since the beginning. They aren't completely free of the regime that threatens them but they've found a way of escaping it as much as they can. They've been free to learn and explore and experiment and enjoy much more than the others have. They've been free to have a relationship with one another-- to have a friend they can trust and talk to-- which not all of the angels and demons do. (Not all humans do, either.) Of all of the less fortunate characters? Gabriel, despite having some power in Heaven, might have actually been one of the worst off.

Why is Gabriel jogging in the park on the morning of the last day of Earth? Because Gabriel likes to go for solo jogs in the park...

... just like many humans who have stressful jobs and like to wake up on Saturday morning and throw on a sweatsuit and sneakers and get outside to get some fresh air, move, and try to quiet their thoughts.

That Gabriel is already in this place in S1 is a surprising twist thrown into 1.04 that actually makes us kind of want to scream at Aziraphale 'ask him why he's fucking jogging, Az!' Aziraphale is trying to make the point that they don't need to destroy Earth but the one thing he fails to point out is that Earth is the planet that they're currently both standing on and which Gabriel seems to really be enjoying.

Gabriel couldn't agree with Aziraphale in the jogging scene, though, even if he wanted to, for the most ironic reason possible. This one:

Crowley and Aziraphale don't realize it because they're afraid of Gabriel until S2 but he's as trapped as they are. He's as watched as they are. Ducks have ears-- there's always someone listening in the fascist regime of this Heaven/Hell system. Gabriel couldn't say in a public park anything that sounds outside of what he's supposed to say, even if he wanted to, or he'd be in danger for it.

Gabriel is wearing human clothes that are appropriate to the time period he's in while he's jogging. He has a preferred park and route. He's gone through a whole thing to get to this point-- seeing this activity, learning about its benefits, deeming it appealing and something he'd like to try, getting what he needs to do it, finding a time to do so, trying it out and getting good at it... he's done all this already by this scene, showing that he's already subtly rebelling.

There is also that a lot of humans jog, at least in part, to manage mental health issues. It's prescriptive for depression and when we see Gabriel in the post-S1/pre-S2-set flashbacks, he's exhibiting signs that would have gotten him instantly diagnosed with depression had he been a human. It was not new-- more like his default state-- before talking more intimately with Beez started to help him manage it.

This might indicate that Gabriel was already in a place pre-S1 where he viewed humans as having knowledge that could benefit him and other angels-- a point of view that Crowley and Aziraphale also share. To get there, he'd have to have stopped seeing himself as superior to humans-- if he ever did in the first place, which isn't really known. Gabriel does show a surprising aptitude for subversive thinking so it's possible he never really bought the idea that they were superior beings but, even if he did, he doesn't by sometime prior to S1 because the human activity he's gotten for a hobby is one known for helping humans manage the anxiety and stress he knows he also feels.

It's also an activity that Gabriel can get away with doing because it's physical and he's The Commander of The Heavenly Host, Heaven's armed forces. No one can question why he wants to go to Earth to work out because it seems like he's just a devoted soldier when, really, he's doing it to get away from everything for a bit. Jogging gives him time and space to think and to be alone, away from Heaven. It's peaceful when he knows precious little peace. He's also quite literally running from Heaven lol and this was already happening for awhile before S1 happened, let alone S2.

You might say: ok, but Gabriel doesn't *need* to jog... he's magical!

Yes, he's magical... which seems to be like having an extra-long, somewhat-eternal backup battery. It doesn't actually mean that Gabriel doesn't need to exercise. Living beings can go a surprisingly long time repressed from what it is that they need to survive and being magical is suggested to have caused some of these angels and demons to remain alive so long without what it is that they truly need to thrive as people that they've convinced themselves that they don't actually need these things.

Sure, the angels and demons have superhuman powers but they are also very human at the same time...

In S2, Gabriel will describe having what we might call human physical sensations on his way to the bookshop. His arms got sore from holding a box at a weird angle for awhile on his walk-- just like ours would. He was cold from being naked until Aziraphale gave him a blanket. Aziraphale was winded trying to jog with him in this scene in S1. Crowley has basically developed a human sleep schedule over the years to a point that while he can survive missing a night of sleep, he feels the effects of it, as he was mentioning in S2.

To say that these characters being magical means that they're "flawless" would be to get a little "master race" gross, right? And the show does not. The angels and demons have human corporations in all shapes and sizes. Human corporations are just one option for them, even if also the most common, and those options are not built to be without any challenges-- they're built to be human.

Crowley, for instance, is basically a god in terms of power and he's also canonically far-sighted. He built the known universe but he also can't read the paper you just put in front of his eyes without his reading glasses. He can make it rain with his fingertips... and he also has an anxiety disorder. All of this is a story that is using angels and demons as metaphors for human living. We humans have more power than we think, as shown through how the magical angels and demons in the story are more "human" than many of them have been led to believe.

All of the angels and demons might not be at risk from most major human disease, for example... but that's if you're talking about things like Covid and bubonic plague... not if you're talking about the most common ailments plaguing humanity. The major supernatural characters in this story have things like anxiety disorders, depression, and PTSD. Many of them have complicated relationships with food and insecurities about their corporations. They deal with issues of loneliness and the effects of different kinds of trauma and abuse. Every one of them has trust issues for days. Aside from the main four, most of the angels and demons have no idea how hungry, tired, lonely and unfulfilled they are because they think they aren't actually supposed to want things like food, rest, creative outlets, and friendship. If they do feel a desire for these things, they think there's something wrong with them because they've been told they not to want or need in this way.

The few of the angels and demons that can get beyond the b.s. they've been taught and consider that they might not be superior to humans and might have some things in common with them? They break through and start to learn from humans.

Even though they both see each themselves as not fully human and as basically living amongst-- rather than with-- the humans, both Crowley and Aziraphale have experienced enough of the world to know that they're not terribly different from humans. They don't see a lot of their own challenges and experiences as different from that of humans and they actively seek out human knowledge and thoughts on how to manage their way through life. They recognize that their full range of emotions is not any different from that of the humans-- whether the emotions in question are the love they feel for one another or something they have to deal with, like anxiety.

As we see in S2, the choice of corporation for a supernatural being can have consequences that can affect them as a whole. Yes, these beings are more protected than humans, as they can morph into whatever they want and they have miracles that they can use to protect themselves in most situations... but they can actually die if they get into a situation dangerous to them enough, like what The Bullet Catch could have been.

Furfur said that if Crowley had missed and Aziraphale had been shot in the head, that "they might not have been able to put him together again"-- meaning, that Aziraphale could have actually died from a bullet to the head... just like how humans can. While in human form, the angels and demons' minds really are contained within their brains, like is the case with humans. Supernatural beings have a mind-body connection to their corporations of choice-- just as we do with our bodies-- and they're basically all out here choosing human bodies as a default option, right? So, how different are they from us, really? Not that much.

This would mean that their corporations do need the same things that human bodies do. The difference is that, being magical, they can go for eons without addressing these needs, whereas most of us who are only human over here get hangry after four hours without a snack and need to sleep for several hours every day in order to function.

They do need to breathe to be healthy, if not to completely stay alive, because their corporations prefer oxygen and breathing causes the human body to function properly. They can go for millennia without eating... but that doesn't at all mean that they should. When they finally do, they can eat an entire ox without a second thought and why? Because they're starving. They can magically last an absurd amount of time in their repression but they're unnecessarily suffering in doing so.

Crowley and Aziraphale know this. They've learned it themselves. That's why they're giving out warm beverages and sarcastic masturbation tutorials to whatever interested supernatural beings shows up at the door for much of S2.

This is Gabriel's office, shown to us moments after his jog in the park:

That is where he's spent thousands of years. This is his office and what counts as his home. This dude doesn't even have a chair. Look at how huge that space is and how small he seems in it. He can't go out on that balcony. This isn't an office or a house so much as it's a prison cell. This scene shows us why he jogs in the park-- it's his time in the yard during his prison sentence, basically.

Look at how we and Michael come into the scene and see that Gabriel is just staring out the window at the world, tapping his finger against his mouth, lost in thought. This is not a being who is super jazzed to destroy this place later in the day. He's up there like a damn fairy tale princess, trapped in a glass tower in the sky, looking down at the human world and wondering why it is that it's only humans can have it when they really don't seem that different from the angels and demons.

All of us humans with terrible jobs and other stressful situations can usually find a way out of it, except for maybe those of us trapped in an active war zone. What do we humans do? We sleep, we shower, we do some yoga or meditate, we enjoy stories, we make art, we have some good food, we find things that make us laugh and share them with friends and loved ones. Some of us also seek other kinds of connection as well-- a sexual and/or romantic partner. S2 shows us that Gabriel is not aromantic, as he's fallen in love with Beez-- which just emphasizes that, for thousands of years, this sort of thing was never an option for him and another need that was not being met.

Michael is correct in S2 that Gabriel doesn't have a desk to clean out. He has a single, white pedestal without any drawers onto which the occasional file folder can be placed if someone has a meeting with him. (One wonders if Heaven only even has physical file folders as an excuse to have the occasional barely-there table just to break up the expanse of empty space to keep them all from going mad.) Aside from his clothes, he does not possess a single material object, as he's not allowed to.

Imagine not owning a single book. Not having a favorite blanket. Not having a favorite mug. Not having lost these things but having never had them before at all. No presents because you have no friends. The first person to ever give Gabriel something is Beez and that hasn't happened by this point in the story.

We know Aziraphale understands this. Aziraphale wanted a home with a door he could lock and privacy enough to try to live a life of sorts with his partner and a place to store the material objects that he owns. His own, cluttered desk with a million little nooks and shelves. A chair, books, a bed he can be in with Crowley without Head Office finding out and killing them for it. That's the genius bookshop embassy that Gabriel will run to when he finally cracks but Gabriel himself?

He's had almost none of that kind of freedom for himself.

Aziraphale knows what it is to have nothing of your own and that's why he gives Gabriel his angel mug. He's literally writing Jim's name on everything that Jim owns because he knows that while it's not about material objects, Gabriel doesn't have anything of his own. It's about choice-- down here on Earth, Gabriel can choose to call himself something different. He can have a more peaceful and satisfying job and books to read and a favorite drink and a mug of his own and friends to talk to. He can try the hot chocolate and the tiny dinners if he wants without anyone judging him or trying to kill him for it. He can be free to be his own person on Earth.

Consider the contrasting shots of Gabriel in 1.04, shown staring out the window of his prison walls at the Earth he was supposed to destroy... and Jim waking up on Earth, in cozy pajamas, to look out the window of the bookshop while making himself a warm, morning drink in his own mug.

Kind of makes you want to hug him, doesn't it?

Back in 1.04, though? The scene in Gabriel's office showed us what he's up against Up there and just how isolated he is at that time. Michael is the one angel you'd think he'd be able to trust, as they've been through it together for thousands of years, but we see very clearly why Gabriel does not trust them.

Michael is a hypocrite. They talk to the demons unofficially and Gabriel has been protecting them for it from The Metatron. Yet, at the first opportunity, Michael throws Aziraphale under the bus by reporting him for doing the very same thing they are. After S2, we see that this is also a swipe at Gabriel himself-- Michael knows that Gabriel knows about Crowley and Aziraphale and has never done anything about it, even though he "should" by the rules of Heaven. This isn't just Michael selling out Aziraphale-- it's Michael taking a shot at Gabriel himself. It's a reminder that there's always someone who seeks favor with The Metatron watching and Gabriel is completely trapped-- more so, even, than Crowley & Aziraphale.

He doesn't have any choice but to tell Michael that they can pursue it but he's gloriously bitchy about all of it. He doesn't so much as blink in telling Michael that he's sure there's "a perfectly innocent explanation"-- meaning: sure, go ahead, take a shot, but I am in charge and I will continue to be doing fuck all about Aziraphale boffing Bildad the Shuite, Michael.

He also is sly as all hell when he reminds them that "there are no back channels"-- by 'back channels', you mean you're calling your demon boyfriend, have I got that right, Michael? The one I happily pretend you don't have? God, you're awful...

Michael wants Gabriel's job and the brownie points with The Metatron so they're pursuing Aziraphale to show that they're willing to go after subversive angels and they're threatening Gabriel with exposing that he's known for ages about Aziraphale and did nothing-- which makes him an accessory to it. Gabriel has no other choice but to tell Michael to keep pursuing it but it's an example of how the wolves are always circling for Gabriel and how trapped he really is. His only defense is his you're going to regret fucking with me attitude.

As Michael leaves, the scene ends on Gabriel picking up one of the pictures of Crowley and Aziraphale. He's drawn to the one of them sitting together where?

Where Gabriel himself just was.

In the park.

What would it be like to live like they do? he seems to be wondering, for probably the millionth time. How much longer am I going to be able to keep them alive? Am I going to go down with them?

Nah. It's their turn now, Gabriel...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens 2 #the archangel fucking gabriel #gabriel good omens

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kuroppiii · 3 months

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day by day ᵕ̈ husband!timeskip!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : little moments from your ⋮⋮ daily life with your silly little husband

📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛 ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 ♡ # ~700 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ this is like word vomit but pleaseee he plagues my mind , i ' m clawing at the walls of my enclosure ( not proofread !! ) ”

um yeah so congrats to timeskip!kuroo for being able to live his best life

an even greater life with you in it, of course

because although he swaggers along in his little suit and tie handing out his card willy-nilly to god knows who all day,,,

you bet your sweet ass he’s got a picture of you in his wallet

and that wallet is constantly getting whipped out around the office as he looks at your smiling face

looking longingly and with a little lovestruck sigh

(he’s so dramatic)

he has your drink order on lock and will pick it up coming back from work

but he is the type to take a “sip” out of your cup in exchange

(half your drink’s gone after that 🙁)

he “needs help” tying his tie like every other morning

“y/n love of my life can you help me with this”

it was cute

like the first couple times

maybe not so much at the twentieth time

at this point you just tell him to do it himself so you don’t have to get out of your bed bc you know what he’s trying to do

"have you ever considered trying a clip-on tie, tetsu?"

but granted, whenever you do cave, it’s impossible to miss in the corner of your eye the way his eyes are filled with pure unadulterated admiration as he watches you tie the stupid tie

(it was never about the tie)

(he just needs to look at you before he has to go the work where he can’t look at you like this until he comes home later that night)

and sometimes when he gets home he really tries to take up making dinner some nights to give you a break

he even wears a little apron (your apron) over the wife pleaser and boxers he’s so accustomed to changing into upon arriving home

(really not necessary but you two watched the bear together one night and he’s really just trying to get into it with the apron)

he looks ridiculous but you hate to admit you find it so adorable

"can someone get me a fucking sharpie, that fucking works!!!"

"i'm sorry for cursing at you babe, i don't even need a sharpie, i was just saying the thing from the thing–"

the best he can do is like cold noodles or the occasional steak dinner which really aren’t that bad when those are on the dinner menu!!!

when it comes to everything else? well... yeah he’s better off without the apron

but make him lunch for the office? oh he’ll propose to you a second time right then and there next to your fridge

put the cute character cutouts in there too, as if he cares what his coworkers might say bc anything you touch is gold to him no matter what

“ok but where are your guys’ carrot flowers, huh? don’t eat your veggies? have you ever considered that what you should actually be concerned about, is that you’re not eating as balanced of meals as i am every day?”

part of me wants to say when all is said and done, you two share a bottle of wine or smth under the night sky together to wind down

but honestly i don’t think a moment with this man necessarily calls for being a little buzzed like that

he makes you laugh simply by how he talks about his day, and with his little comments and reactions to whatever you may tell him about yours

"some people may wonder how he got demoted from a coordinator position–but y/n, honey, if you saw the way he parallel parks on the street outside our office, you would agree he's very much lacking in the skill of coordination."

"wow, i can't believe she treated you that way. and you're sure she knows the 'h' in 'hr' stands for 'human', right? because she sure isn't acting like a good one."

"😧 ..."

it’s like your home becomes your own personal comedy-club to round off yet another day with the love of your life

with the sounds of both of your laughter mingling together in a solemn late-night harmony only ever truly appreciated by the both of you

and when you two finally head to bed

his arm can’t help but snake its way around your waist

"g'night my love..."

pulling you close and breathing in your scent as you both get lulled away into a deep sleep

all to repeat everything again the next morning <3

#🌼 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂 #🌼 𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗼 #sighs #yeah #haikyuu #haikyū!!#kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu time skip #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #haikyuu headcanons

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stagefoureddiediaz · 9 days

Text

Initial thoughts on that article - I’m excited! I mean the journalist needs to do a bit more homework (I’m looking at you sentence about Eddie kissing Kim!) and I’m always going to take anything Tim says in an article with a giant handful of salt, but by and large all he said is telling me that the arcs for all our characters seem to be interesting and varied.

This got so very long so it’s going below the cut - but if you only want to read the buddie stuff then start reading where I’ve changed the text colour (so you can find it easily - because I’m nice like that!) 🐝🐝🐝

I love that Tim described madney and henren as being a family unit outside of the firehouse and I’m really excited to see that built upon - I loved that we got more hen and Maddie interactions last season and I want more of it. So I’m looking forward to seeing that dynamic develop as part of the Mara arc.

Ortiz hs so much potential to be a truly great villain - with a more sustained arc - something the show hasn’t ever really done and I’d like them to. Ortiz v Hen as a half season or more plotline would be so good and exploring corruption in politics and how it corrupts other public systems and services would be such a great thing to explore (and Aisha would knock it out of the park)

I’m going to say here that season 8 is very much screaming season 3 redux at me - all of the things we know thus far all seem to parallel season 3 events, even down to the bee-nado - which is starting to sound more and more like a mirror of the tsunami - in that the tsunami wave itself was only a brief thing, but the aftermath was where the major incidents and action was for all the various characters and the set up of their arcs. And Tim saying the bees set up I’m super excited for that as a concept.

Since we first saw them filming on a plane I’ve been wondering if we were going to be seen if another 70’s disaster movie homage and it seems I was right - my money is on Airport 77 being the movie in question

And I’m really interested in who it’s going to showcase and what part of her history were exploring. I would really love to see them exploring the Jeffery arc and her trauma from that, but I’m not sure that’s what we’ll be getting (Jeffery being dead doesn’t negate this exploring that part of her story I just don’t think it’s where we’re going)

My feeling is it’s connected into Emmett in some way. It was ‘resolved’ in Athena begins and then never really spoken of again, so maybe we’ll be seeing Dennis Jenkins (the guy who shot Emmett) as one of the prisoners on the plane and Athena will have to confront her remaining trauma there and possibly the damage arresting DJ has had after all that time he passed.

On to Bobby - what can I say technical consultant bobby is going to be perfection. Bobby has had some heavy arcs over the past couple of seasons so it’s pretty obvious he’s got the comic relief arc for at least 8a. I’m really looking forward to seeing Bobby being done with Hollywood etc. And I’m really excited to see how they get him back to the 118 where he belongs.

Onto the bit I know most of you are reading this for!!

The Buck arc is screaming lawsuit redux at me and that ties in nicely to Bobbys arc. Instead of Buck being stopped from returning to the 118, this time it’s Bobby. Gerrard is the Chase Matthew’s of this situation and so I remain convinced of my assertion that buck (having learnt from the lawsuit arc) is going to initially fail against Gerrard before he figures out getting close to him and therefore being able to figure out his weaknesses is the best way to get rid of him and get Bobby back.

The Buck T*mmy section in the article of it all has me laughing so very hard I nearly fell off my chair.

Look, this ‘relationship’ is still fairly new and they are still in the ‘getting to know each other’ phase, so I wouldn’t be expecting Tim to start waxing lyrical about them as a couple, but saying this;

To describe the first queer relationship of one of your mains, whose entire storyline last season was his bi awakening, when it’s at the point when everything should still be new and exciting isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of said relationship.

It’s entirely possible to gush about a relationship - especially one that is essentially groundbreaking on your show - without giving any plot away or making it seem like they’re endgame.

More comfortable together is the only thing you could come up with to describe them as a couple? - what does that really mean? Comfortable is how you describe a pair of slippers or an old hoodie that’s all worn in and soft. If you’re using more comfortable as one descriptor in a longer sentence with other descriptors that shows the development of said relationship then that’s totally acceptable. But to use it as the only one (aside from saying they’re a couple), well that screams of a relationship that is a plot device.

And you know what else backs that up as a concept - Tim proceeds to use the rest of his answer to the question about Buck and T*mmy’s relationship to talk about Eddie and Eddie and Buck and their relationship. So what I’m getting is that Eddie is still at the centre of things within that relationship - just as he has been throughout the entirety of s7 - where Buck and Tommy managed to have a grand total of 3 scenes out of nearly 20 together where Eddie wasn’t either present or spoken about at length (and one of those was literally just a scene of them kissing!)

Even using the word comfortable again to describe Buck, Tommy and Eddie hanging out together (anticipating some sort of scene that echoes the karaoke bar scene - where we get petty jealous Eddie and I can’t wait!). Which means comfortable is a very intentional word choice - not one that bodes well for the longevity of the reltionship.

So what I’m getting from that. Is that ‘more comfortable together’ means boring and that Tim is using the relationship to create the same distance we saw between Buck and Eddie in season 3 during the lawsuit arc - the distance that ultimately brought them even closer together and led to Eddie changing his will.

Season 3 was when the show really established buddie as a thing - they lay the foundations in s2, but s3 was when they tested and then built the walls of that dynamic ready for the pieces to be put into place over seasons 4 & 5 so they could make buddie canon.

This BT relationship is literally being used to put Eddie in the same space he was in in s3 - isolated (thank you Ryan for that word choice!) because Buck is not available to him as much (or at all in the case of s3) so he spiralled out in his grief over Shannon’s death and joined a fight club.

All this to say that the chess pieces are being manoeuvred in a really positive direction on the buddie front and I expect to see 8a following a somewhat similar pattern as 3a did - big opening disaster which sets up the various arcs, which includes being shown buck and Eddie’s closeness initially, only to separate them off for a bit so Eddie can have his gay awakening (fight club minus the fight club) and Buck can do some more figuring out about what he actually wants of his own (lawsuit without the law suit) and then bring them back together in time for Christmas - which they will spend together with a newly returned Christopher (mirroring s3 Christmas perfectly) and the rest of the firefam.

Even the Eddie question backs up this as a theory;

I’m fully expecting to get Eddie having conversations with his parents - via call and FaceTime - but not with Chris because he still won’t talk to his dad. The choice to say everything has been stripped away from him except his job is also giving some echoes of s5 - juxtaposing when Eddie essentially had everything else except his job which lead to his breakdown. Tim is a master of deploying subterfuge whilst also using very intentional words - so this comment is making me excited. It’s (to me at least) saying that Eddie is secure in his job and there is not really going to be any drama on the job front. That in the past eddie connected his worth to whatever job he was doing (army, his three jobs in El Paso firefighter) so when the job was taken away he had no worth and that therefore meant he was a failure as a father and a husband - so he spiralled out. Now he has his job and he’s in a good place with that and knowing how his worth as a person isn’t tied into that job. Now instead he has nothing else - all the things he’d tied his worth onto away from his job are suddenly gone so he has to go back to the drawing board and this time look at himself and who he actually is and why he wants.

The choice of the word ‘hell’ is also a choice - ‘who the hell he is’ - season 7 laid the groundwork for edddies reckoning with the catholic faith (former nun Marisol, Eddie talking about being a lapsed catholic and catholic guilt and bobby giving Eddie the bible etc) and we know they’ve been filming in a church. Hell as a word choice is just backing that up and hinting at the idea that Eddie figuring out who he is and choosing living his life as his true self would damn him to hell in the eyes of his religion. So gay Eddie here we go!!

This was supposed to be a quick ‘ooh I’m excited everything is being perfectly set up’ post and then I did my usual thing and write a mammoth essay 🤣 so if you’ve read all of this - thank you and I love you and I hope you enjoyed it - can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

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cannedapricot · 2 years

Text

the deal. || ldh

in which you never wanted to ask your stupid neighbor for help in chasing your dream man - but desperate times call for desperate measures - even if that meant giving lee donghyuck the satisfaction of parking his car in your spot.

word count: 3.5k

genre, warnings: fluff at the end, smidge of angst, slice of life, neighbor!au, high school!au, one sided enemies to lovers, mistaking admiration for love, very romcom movie there's a kiss in the rain scene somewhere in here, mark lee is in the same grade as the 00s for plot purposes, underage drinking, profanities

bgm: hits different by taylor swift, can i call you tonight? by dayglow, disaster by conan gray, i like me better by lauv, kiss goodnight by i dont know how but they found me

a/n: i read better than the movies and the whole time i was thinking "you know who this trope would look good on? hyuck." and thus this was birthed. there's a another neighbor!au in my drafts but the brainrot has taken over i'm afraid.

A proud grin, the tinkling of his keys, an annoying strut. These were all the qualities Lee Donghyuck sported in this very moment as he climbs out of his car. Perfectly parallel parked in the spot outside your house.

If only you were rich. You'd run your stupid neighbor over in a heartbeat then pay the bail to get out of jail. Instead, you wear a scowl reserved especially for the boy, click your tongue, and park a good five minute walk away.

Technically, the parking spot was between your house and the Lees next door. But technically, the spot was 60% on your side, and 40% on theirs. So technically, shouldn't that spot be yours? Why was your shit head of a neighbor adamantly trying to feud with you?

The five minute walk, lovingly dubbed the "walk of shame" by both you and your sworn enemy, would be a lovely three minute walk home - if not for the Kims on the corner who loved starting conversations with whoever passed by. On a good day, you would get away with two minutes of conversation ("Oh sorry Mrs. Kim, I have an assignment I just must get to."). Other days? You weren't so lucky.

"Four minutes? I think that might be a new record." Donghyuck gloats, leaning against his car.

"You were timing me?" You glare at his casual demeanor, wondering how he could possibly be so insufferable.

"Well, I have to know what I'm up against."

You snort, passing by the boy waving his keys around like a trophy, making sure your middle finger was up and in sight.

"Jealousy is a disease, babe." He sings as you slam the door shut behind you.

He really was insufferable.

You should've known.

When you agreed to go to Liu Yangyang's party on the condition that someone drive you, you would've thought he would send someone like Jaemin or Jeno - the duo that always seemed to be the assigned sober drivers. Looking back, you were naïve.

You should've known he'd send your neighbor.

Thus, leads you to the present. Lee Donghyuck in your kitchen, chatting up your mother while you hurriedly try to find your jacket before said mother gets any more charmed by the kid next door.

Truth be told, you were close to not going to the party at all. But then you caught wind that he'd be there and it'd be silly not to grab hold of any chance you could have to impress him.

Donghyuck watches you move around out of the corner of his eye and when you started to move towards the door, he knew you were ready. But he'd spend extra long bidding your mom farewell, just so you'd wait a few minutes longer. He always liked keeping you waiting.

"I never took you for a house partier." Donghyuck comments when the two of you enter his car. "Stop checking yourself out in the mirror, you look the same as always."

You flip the sun visor back up with a scoff. What's wrong with making sure your hair was laying the way you wanted it?

"I never thought you'd agree to drive me to a house party."

"What can I say? I love giving back to the community."

It was a mystery to you how Donghyuck was so beloved around both the town and school. He was sarcastic, petty, and most importantly, constantly went against you. Perhaps everyone was blinded by his attractiveness? He did have a pretty face.

"I get that my face is attractive, but you don't have to look so hard. I think you're staring holes into my lovely cheek."

Correction, he had a pretty face when his mouth was shut.

It was loud, you could feel the bass pumping through your body. Drunk teenagers littered the floor of Yangyang's suburban house, bouncing to the beat and having the time of their lives. Swerving through the crowd of bodies, you picked up on bits of gossip you were sure you weren't supposed to hear. But by the end of the night, you were sure you would've forgotten about whatever scandal Shotaro from biology got into anyway.

Somehow still together, you and your neighbor find the host mixing unidentifiable liquids together in a red solo cup on the kitchen counter.

"Yang, is that poison or alcohol?"

"How dare you, it's called "a good time.""

He offers you the cup, which you turn down. You know how drunk Yangyang likes to get at his parties. Therefore, you know that one sip of whatever was in that cup could probably send you to ER. And you refused to go to ER without at least getting one glance of your dream man.

A quick scan of the room told you that he wasn't here, at least, not within your radius.

"No alcohol for me tonight. I have to drive this one back."

You raised an eyebrow as Donghyuck declines Yangyang's "special blend".

"How responsible." You tease.

"Only because you're here. I don't want you dying at my hands." He counters, leaning back and meeting your gaze, smirk on his lips. "How would I ever face your mother again?"

"Yo, Haechan, dude, you finally made it." A familiar voice sounds.

Enter, Mark Lee. Star athlete, every teacher's favorite student, adorably awkward, and your crush of two months. You swore he had this glow around him that made everything he does so endearing, even when he accidentally sent a basketball flying to your head once.

"Oh, hey Y/N. Didn't know you were coming as well."

"Yeah! I came with Donghyuck! Well, not with him but he was my ride here and will be my ride home so-"

You really had to do something about your nervous rambling in front of Mark.

Mark stayed for a small conversation with your little group before someone hurled on Yangyang's bathroom tiles, not making it to the toilet in time. The host (grumbling about how he just cleaned it yesterday) went to sort it out, your crush in tow.

You stare fondly at his back disappearing into the crowd before you feel a hot breath on your neck.

"No way. You like Mark Lee."

The car ride home was painful for you. Despite your attempts to bargain with him the whole party so he would shut up, the boy behind the wheel spends the whole ten minute drive teasing you like an elementary schooler instead. The song about kissing in a tree involved.

"What is it about him that you like?" Donghyuck asks, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Why? So you can hold it against me for the rest of my life?"

"Wow, I'm offended. Who do you take me for? I would never."

You raise an unbelieving eyebrow at him, only to be met by his side profile in the moonlight. The silver light beams against his features and you only just realize the constellation of stars on his cheek. The light at the intersection flashes red and the car smooths to a stop, Donghyuck turns to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Shit, isn't this kind of intimate?

"Fuck off." You cough out, swiveling your head to look out the window instead. "Eyes on the road, Lee."

"I'm a Lee, but not the Lee you want." He exclaims, following it with an overly dramatic sob.

Keeping a steady stare out the window, you try to calm your reeling mind. Eyes on the prize, Y/N.

The prize being Mark Lee, of course.

Speaking of which.

"Donghyuck, you're friends with Mark right?"

"Depends. Are you going to ask me to help you get with him?"

You sit up in your seat and make your best possible attempt at puppy dog eyes, "please? I wouldn't ask if I didn't have a choice."

It was true, begging Donghyuck was the last thing you ever wanted to do. But you weren't getting anywhere by yourself and they were friends so surely that could help your case? At least he could tell you what type of person Mark liked? Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Your neighbor goes silent, presumably thinking about this suggestion. "What would I get in return though?"

Of course he wasn't just going to help you for nothing. So you rack your brains for something you'd be willing to exchange.

The car turns into your familiar neighborhood, passing Mrs Kim's house. And as the car pulls into the parking spot in front of your house, you spill out, "I'll give you the parking spot."

Donghyuck's eyebrows go up at this suggestion and his signature smirk makes it's way back onto his face. He leans his arm against the back of your seat and you instinctively lean back, fighting the urge to wipe that stupid grin off him.

"You're willing to take the "walk of shame" everyday for him?"

You click your tongue, "the parking space. Take it or leave it."

He leans back, mouth still curved up. The distance lets you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"You make a compelling argument."

"Well?"

"Deal."

You give him a nod, moving to exit the car and crawl back into the comfortable sheets of your bed, but Donghyuck's hand on your arm stops you. In confusion, you look back at him.

"I'm not fake dating you though."

"Hyuck, this isn't "To All the Boys I've Loved Before". I would rather die than fake date you."

The corners of his lips quirk up into a smile - not a smirk - at his nickname. "Hyuck?"

"I'm going home."

True to his word, for the next couple of weeks Donghyuck actively played a part in nudging you and Mark together. However, as much as he tried to create chances for you and your crush to be alone, your habit of nervous rambling when making conversation didn't help at all. It's not your fault Mark has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. Though, somewhere in the back of your mind lingers a mischievous pair that glimmered the same way stars twinkled that night he drove you home.

Ever since making the "Making Mark Lee Y/N's Boyfriend" pact with your neighbor, you've been spending a lot more time together than you've ever had in the past. Admittingly, you've been enjoying it.

When did you last laugh as hard as you did when he attempted to step over the fence separating your houses? ("I can do it, my legs are long enough. Watch.") The boy ended up stuck with one leg half over and the other dangling off and because he looked ridiculous, you ended up on the soft grass of your backyard, tears in the corners of your eyes as you laughed.

When was the last time you felt comfortable enough with a person to share your deepest insecurities with each other in the dead of the night? Texting him nothing but a sad emoji as the clock hits 3am, receiving a response almost immediately - "Can I call you?". Talking about your ambitions, dreams, and fears until the sun rose above the horizon and you both realized you had school in an hour.

That didn't mean you liked him or anything though, right?

You liked Mark.

Or so you thought.

Maybe?

Fuck. How dare Donghyuck confuse you like this.

Sometimes, you wonder how things turn out. How the smallest choices can lead you down a whole new path entirely. And how they all led to Lee Donghyuck currently being sprawled on his stomach on your bed, legs swinging in the air.

Right. You had a date with the other Lee. The one you allegedly had a crush on. Well, it wasn't a date per se. It was more of a one on one friendly hangout? Donghyuck had gotten movie tickets for both him and Mark - then ditched the day before and said you would go in his place. It was kind of genius.

"Okay, would Mark like this color better than the blue?" You ask, clothes strewn across the floor. A good chunk of your day had been spent digging through your closet looking for clothes you think Mark would like. Your neighbor couldn't care less about your crisis. He barely spared a glance up at you before he returned to whatever he was looking at on his phone.

"Looks good."

"Donghyuck, I need you to keep up your half of the deal."

The boy finally gives you his attention. Pulling himself up so that he's sitting on the edge on your bed, staring straight at you.

"Shouldn't you want him to like you as you are? There's no point doing all this-" He gestures to the mess, "-just to impress him. I think you'd look nice even if you chose to wear your pajamas out."

"But he doesn't like me. Not yet at least. That's why I have you to help me."

"...Right."

The atmosphere suddenly becomes stuffy. You wonder if you said the wrong thing because suddenly, the boy next door is leaving. It's not surprising given that the both of you spent half a day going through your wardrobe and he probably had things to do. But, you just can't shake the uneasy feeling.

"Hey, are we good? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, we're good. Good luck." Donghyuck says at your door, a smile unlike any of the previous ones you've seen gracing his face. It seemed forced.

A faint pitter patter of rain hitting the window panes sounds through the quiet room.

You hope he made it home without getting wet.

"Man, I didn't know you liked Spiderman too."

"Mmhm."

You made it to the theatres with Mark. You enjoyed watching the movie with Mark. You were getting driven home by Mark. You had a great time with your crush. So why was your mind still on a certain situation and a certain someone from before.

"My other friends all watched it on a day I got called into work so I was surprised when Haechan was willing to re-watch it with me - he's usually not that nice, you know?"

The edges of your mouth lift a little at the dig at Donghyuck. In front, the windshield wipers squeak a little, trying their best to rid the glass of rain droplets. The radio plays an old song in the background that Mark hums softly to, thumbs tapping in time on the wheel while waiting for the lights to turn green. It was cozy, but could never measure up to how intimate you felt in the car with Donghyuck.

"Then he dips last minute. Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. I was more surprised that you were coming instead though - I thought you would've wanted to watch it with Haechan."

Your brows furrow. "Why?"

"Oh - I thought you liked him."

The world around you stopped. Though the light turned green and the car was definitely moving now, you felt your entire body freeze.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

Mark's confusion showed on his face, his emotions always did. That was one of the things you liked about him. Or so, you thought.

"Well, for starters, you're much more comfortable around him. I don't know if that's just because you always tense up when I'm around. I'm sorry if I've done anything to make you uncomfortable by the way, it was never my intention."

Mark Lee, your supposed crush, thought you were uncomfortable around him. You lean your head against the window of his car, it was nice and cool. Perfect as you let yourself ponder.

You always were unnecessarily nervous around him - but wasn't that normal? You liked him. You liked his smile, how he was able to win the favors of everyone around him so easily, how he was always reliable, how good he was at sports- oh.

It was never romantic.

You didn't know anything about Mark. You never even had a proper conversation with him. What he liked to do in his spare time, what his plan was for the future, what stupid habit he has, what he sounds like over the phone at 3am. You had no idea.

But you knew what Donghyuck liked to do in his spare time, what he wanted to do in the future, what his stupid habit was, what he sounded like over the phone at 3am.

Fuck.

And it all came rushing to you all at once.

The prize was always something shiny, blazing, and brilliant. It was something you wanted but would put on a shelf to admire. Mark Lee was your prize. Someone you admired. He was never someone you imagined having debates with for the rest of your life. He was never someone you imagined spending rainy days indoors together with.

Perhaps, after all this time, the prize wasn't what you were after. Perhaps, what you really wanted was to spend time with-

"No way."

"Hm?"

"I like Lee Donghyuck."

Your admiration for Mark was a luminous, fleeting feeling that you mistook for love. Love was never about having to dress like a different person to impress them. Love was laughing together at the smallest things, showing up in two week old pajamas and still thinking they're the most beautiful being you've laid eyes on, and sometimes, love was fighting over a parking spot outside your house.

Mark grins. "Great. He's been in love with you since third grade."

"What?'

"Why do you think he's never dated before? All this time, he's been waiting for you to realize."

"I'm glad we got closer today," Mark mentions, pulling onto your street, "you seem a lot more comfortable now."

Yeah, because you no longer thought Mark was your dream man. A weight was taken off your shoulders now and you didn't feel the need to keep up an act around him anymore.

"Thanks for today."

"Hey dude, no worries. Just let me know if you need any help wooing Haechan alright? I love helping couples get together."

"...Didn't you try before with two other couples?"

"...Yeah... They didn't turn out how I thought they would."

The two of you share a laugh before you clamber out of his vehicle and wave him goodbye from your porch. The rain had started pouring down from the grey skies but your fingers hesitate at your door.

Fuck it.

Instead of walking into your warm and dry house, you decide to brave the rain and run over to your neighbor's, splashing through the puddles without care. It soaked the clothes you spent forever deciding on and ruined your meticulously done hair, but urgent times call for urgent measures.

Two knocks and the door swings open, revealing the boy next door behind. His eyes widen at the sight of you taking heaving breaths on his doorstep, hair and clothes complete wet and still getting pelted on by the rain.

"Did he hurt you?"

The urge to laugh bubbles through you. He was always putting you first. All this time, he was helping you chase another man. He was ready to give up on his chance with you if that meant you had a chance of being happy with someone else. Even now, after you'd hurt him, he was still worried about you.

"Lee Donghyuck, I'm in love with you."

For a while, everything's silent. Even the rain fell mute on your ears. All you could see was your rival's jaw open in shock and his Adams apple bobbing up and down trying to find the words to say. It was quite a satisfying view.

Then you start rambling as panic settles in. The need to apologize for hurting him, how you actually felt about Mark, how you found out about your feelings. Old habits die hard.

Except, not even a full sentence into your unplanned speech, Donghyuck steps out of his house, into the rain, and cuts you off with his warm, soft lips on yours. You stumble back, not expecting the sudden weight on you, and the two of you fall back onto the wet, cold grass on his front yard.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that."

His face was as close to yours as physically possible, eyes gazing lovingly over your features, wanting to soak every second of this moment in.

"Let me guess, since third grade?"

"I knew Mark couldn't be trusted."

Laughter claims you both before you pull him in by the collar for another kiss. There were grass stains on your clothes, it was cold and muddy, and the two of you will definitely end up with a cold the next day, but somehow, in that moment, you felt as though the world was yours.

"I kept my end of the deal."

"What do you mean?"

"You ended up getting a boyfriend with the name "Lee". I think that means I get the parking spot."

You smile.

"I'd happily do the walk of shame for you."

1K notes · View notes

intheorangebedroom · 8 months

Text

Tonight you belong to me, chapter 2

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town.

Two months have passed since your first time at the motel with Frankie. What has changed, what hasn't. Who are you now?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞 PLEASE, see series masterlist for extensive trigger warnings.

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 How are you all? Gentle reminder that our Reader is an OFC. In this chapter, we get to know her better, and there are indirect physical descriptions of her. Sincerest apologies to anyone who knows Tampa. I did a lot of research, but I'm afraid my ignorance will still show… I swear I did my best. Raul is real, though. He's a friend of a very dear friend and he lives in Paris.

@frannyzooey my love, as always, I am in your debt. Thank you for your help. I love you more than words 🧡

I hope you enjoy this one, Orange besties, it made me sweat blood, @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0 had to listen to my constant whining to put me on life support. Ily 🧡

Word count: 8.6k

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Chapter 2: Closer

The traffic is dense, but you spot Ava’s red Toyota as soon as it turns into E 7th avenue.

On any given Saturday, the upbeat neighborhood is bustling with cheerful crowds of leisured weekenders and hip thirty-something. On this particular Saturday, the first after Thanksgiving, the streets are a vision from hell.

There’s a constant ballet of cars pulling in and out along the curbs. On each side of the avenue, the sidewalks are swarming with jittery shoppers, frenetically prospecting for good deals on potential Christmas gifts. You’re willing to bet that most of them will stretch their budget thin on useless, meaningless knickknacks. Generic trinkets without soul nor purpose but that will, for the first half hour of ownership at least, fill the void in their consumers’ existence.

The traditional Christmas tree of unholy proportions is up and sparkling. Wrapped around the iron porch columns, electrical garlands blink in rapid sequences like luminescent spasmodic snakes. Storefronts are decorated with more or less taste. The temperature has dropped twice below 70. It’s that time of the year.

The merry season usually finds you adding a generous helping of anxiolytics to your daily cocktail of little helpers. This year, however, you haven’t popped a pill in days, and everything feels… more. Louder, too vivid, more oppressive. Sensations magnified and emotions amplified. Which is, after all, what you were aiming at when you unilaterally decided to taper off your intake.

Ava miraculously secures a free spot on the other side of the avenue, about a hundred yards in front of yours. You watch her parallel park, the maneuver surprisingly sloppy, given the parking assist technology the brand-new hybrid car is equipped with, and you wonder if you really needed to spend that much money on it.

In front of your own parked car, pedestrians agglutinate at the crosswalk. When the light turns green, they move as one, like flocks of extras on a movie set, coming to life on cue when the director yells “action!”

They’re not extras, however, each one of them is the main character in the movie of their life. Together they form a constellation of individual and interconnected stories, while you stand at the margin, forever exhausted, willfully forlorn. At best, a supporting part in Ava’s fantastic tale of eccentric adventures, but more likely a backdrop in your father’s gripping success story.

Although, your narrative has changed drastically over the past two months. You now got a part in your own right, unfolding in between takes.

You wait until Ava gets out of her vehicle before you exit yours, reluctant to leave the hushed safety of your old sedan’s cab, even for the few minutes it’ll take you to meet with her and step into the coffee place.

You wave at her from across the busy street until she sees you, but when she proceeds to jaywalk over to you, reckless and entirely indifferent to your pleading expression, you have to avert your eyes. There’s a crosswalk right in front of you, god dammit.

She levels up with you and pecks a kiss on your cheek, hitting your cheekbone with force, more headbutt than demonstration of affection.

“Hey,” she says, barely stopping in her tracks before she pushes open the glass door to the coffee shop.

“Hello, pup,” you answer fondly, your words lost to the street’s bustle.

Inside, the artificial air instantly pulls at your skin. The atmosphere is cool but dry, saturated with the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans and greasy-sweet pastries. The high-ceiling, cement floor, wide open-space is packed. The brick walls reverberate the ambient noises, and the late morning sun beams brightly through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, evenly spaced along the lateral walls. People sit in small parties around the white designer tables, sipping iced coffees from tall red paper cups with white snowflakes, large shopping bags at their feet.

Trying your best not to shrink and shrivel from the multiple overwhelming stimuli, you focus on Ava’s back, walking behind her as she leads the way to a free table at the rear of the coffee shop, between the counter and one of the windows. There’s a regal quality to her gait and the way she carries herself, not unlike your father, the resemblance enhanced by her preference for masculine clothing, and you have to love the irony, given how much she hates the man. She has your mother’s beauty, though. The same luxurious dark hair, fair, flawless skin, and wide green eyes, her frame tall, her figure athletic. She’s the masterpiece. Next to her, you look like a clumsy first draft, with blurry edges and hesitant features.

She throws her jean jacket on the back of her chair and collapses on her seat with a theatrical sigh.

Across from her, you sit down gingerly on the edge of the hard wooden chair, balancing your weight around the sore and delicious ghost sensation of Frankie between your hips.

“You look good,” you start.

“Yeah, you too!” she exclaims, like it’s unexpected, “tired but like, good. Are you getting any sleep?”

You smile, waving your hand dismissively.

“Don’t we have to go to the counter to order?”

“No, it’s fine,” she answers, “they serve at the table. I’m having an oat milk matte, what do you want?”

“An espresso, I think.”

Right on cue, a young woman dressed in a black cropped top and black skinny jeans presents herself at your table and proceeds to tap in your order on a rectangular electronic device. Her long acrylic nails hit the screen with a rapid succession of click-click-click. The sound brings you back to your parents' dining-room, the large table standing like an angular island on the shiny square of reflective tiles, in the middle of a shag carpet ocean. Your mother’s nails, painted in Revlon Desirable #150, rattling impatiently over the lacquered surface of the dining table near her untouched plate and a glass of G&T sweating with condensation. She never ate her food. She drank even when she was pregnant.

Your fingers find the back of your knee and pinch the thin skin there, so hard you flinch.

The waitress waltzes off, and Ava returns her full attention to you.

“I’m happy to see you,” she offers, and you smile softly at her uncustomary expression of affection. Your chest expends. “It’s been a while.”

There’s no reproach in her tone, but you are usually the one expressing ill-concealed concern over her long silences, and the reversal in your dynamic throws you off. Guilts gnaws at you. You choose defense.

“You were away.”

“Yeah, but like, I came back three weeks ago.”

Three weeks. Your smile fades and you slump in your chair, running a quick mental calculation.

Time has never been an easy concept for you to grasp, but until recently, you’ve managed to remain afloat and functioning, on a practical level at least, amidst a society that revolves around schedules and timetables. The watch on your wrist, yearly organizers, recently and reluctantly replaced by the iCal app on your phone, sticky notes, tin boxes filled with tickets stubs… All clutches to your failing memory, anything to keep you tethered against an overpowering and primal instinct to escape, let go, drift away. And perhaps, most of your exhaustion stems from this endless swimming-race against the current.

Lately, your inability to remember appointments, to navigate time and hold an effective grasp on reality has reached a new high. For the past two months, your life has revolved around Friday nights and the sound of a red pickup truck pulling in and out of a decrepit motel’s parking, tires screeching on the gravel. Inside this timeframe, your entire life is contained. Around it, the days stretch, spiral, and blend. And you’ve lost all motivation and interest in any counter-current swimming.

You frown slightly, scanning her face, but she doesn’t let on anything out of the ordinary. After all, if she genuinely worried, if she so badly needed to see you, she could have given you a call. You were the one to reach out and ask to see her this morning.

Something’s different about her, in the way she holds herself straighter on her seat, with her legs crossed and her head tilted to the side, exposing the undercut she got before the summer. You’re still not entirely sure if this was the bold fashion statement she claimed it to be, rather than a dramatic reaction to her girlfriend moving back to New York. With Ava, it could be both. She’s not wearing any makeup today, her face looks disarmingly young, and the concern she’s expressed, however subtle, churns your insides with guilt and affection.

You plaster a polite smile on your face.

“Well, I’m here now. It’s good to see you, too. Tell me, how was New York? How’s Polly?”

The waitress returns with the pastries and beverages you ordered, and Ava begins to narrate her two-week trip to the big city. She speaks fast, punctuating her words with large gestures to describe the cultural buoyancy, the hip neighborhoods and her thrifts finds, the street food and the refined, cutting-edge restaurants, how everything is bigger there, faster and better, how she fell safe walking hand in hand with Polly, the clubs, the galleries, the weather, crisp air and chilly winds from the north, a refreshing, comforting seasonality to pace the existence.

“I was fucking crying when I boarded the plane back, you have no idea.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You don’t miss her too much?”

She doesn’t answer, and something in the way she avoids your gaze makes you frown again.

Polly and you have always gotten along well. You genuinely appreciate her solar personality and her worldly conversation. Their encounter four years ago had been the silver-lining in an otherwise horrendous year. The happy, coincidental consequence of a chain of events that had been years in the making.

When Ava dropped out of college halfway through her freshman year, it provided your father with the excuse he had been waiting for to kick his own child out of his house. You had seen it coming. In fact, you had spent your entire adult life shielding Ava from the paternal discontent, investing all your strength into becoming the son and successor he had wished for, and that neither of you could ever be.

Ava, however, had never put in the effort. She didn’t fit into the family portrait. She never had. You didn’t want her to, and she simply couldn’t. Too rebellious, decidedly unconventional, and, well, queer, to boot. Your father had spent years formatting you and there she was, standing proud, strengthened by your unconditional support, a glaring highlight of your diverging values, a breathing reminder of his failure with you both.

In the aftermath of the fall-out, Adrian had refused to take her in, and she had spent days out of your sight, sleeping god knows where. Eventually, you’d dug your heels in, as you only ever did when Ava was concerned and her wellbeing on the line, and obtained that she move in with you. The cohabitation hadn’t gone smoothly in the least. As usual, Adrian was more concerned about potentially upsetting your father than making you happy. You were once again caught between crossed fires.

The strained situation with your fiancé notwithstanding, Ava couldn't spend her time sitting idly at home. You had pleaded with her for weeks before she agreed to resume her studies. Only this time, it had to be with your funding. The realization that you didn’t have any consequential money of your own had been brutal, even though it shouldn’t have been a surprise: you lived in Adrian’s apartment, and were employed by your father, who refused point-blank to let you sell some of your company shares, knowing the money would go to his estranged daughter.

All you could afford was Hillsborough Community College, but things had eventually taken a turn for the better when Ava and Polly had met. Polly was teaching psychology, waiting for a tenure that she would never be granted. Because of the 20-year age gap between them, she insisted Ava graduate with her BA before they started properly dating. And when they did, the improvement in your sister’s mental state and overall balance was immediately noticeable.

Calm and collected, affectionate and thoughtful, Polly grounds your young sibling. She eases her anger and channels her energy into creative and fruitful endeavors, without snuffing her rebellious temper.

And now, despite Ava being almost fully independent, with a job and a place of her own, you don’t know what you’d do if they were to break up. If one of them were to decide that a long-distance relationship is not what she wants.

You lean forward, your hand coming to rest over hers, warm and smooth. “Hey pup, what’s up? Is everything ok between you two?”

“Oh yes,” she quickly assures you, withdrawing her hand, “and by the way, she sends you her best.”

Understanding downs on you like a bucket of ice. You suddenly feel stupid, pathetically naive, forever one step behind. Leaning back in your chair, you let out a short, soundless huff. What you’re facing is not a breakup, but the likely possibility that Ava will soon move out of town to follow Polly to New York.

Ava is talking again, about New York you’re guessing, but you can’t focus on her words. Behind your impassive eyes and your attentive smile, your mind reels and wrestles with a downpour of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Pride flares in your chest at the prospect of your baby sister setting roots in a city as intimidating as New York, but it tugs at something else, something you’re too scared to consider, and an ugly feeling you’re reluctant to acknowledge.

Would she hesitate before leaving you behind, after you’ve prioritized her freedom over yours? After you stayed so she could fly away? And wouldn’t it be the point?

Your eyes travel up along the trail of small tattoos adorning her forearms. Dominos, tea cups, a white rabbit with round glasses, a flamingo, several thin arrows, a broken heart in flames.

What’s your purpose, if she’s not here anymore? If someone else is looking after her? If your sacrifice is no longer necessary nor justified?

“How was Thanksgiving dinner? Did you have fun talking about politics with Richard?”

You wince involuntarily at your father’s name. She never refers to them as “mom” and “dad.” She hasn’t for a long while. But today the sarcasm doesn’t fool you, no more than her feigned indifference.

She’s not truly asking if you had to bite your tongue and smile through conversations that make you nauseous. She knows well enough you’ve got just enough political convictions to carry you to the voting poll, but hardly a step further. Listening to him is painful, but you get by, and your shameful silence buys you necessary peace.

No, what she wants to know is if your family inquired about her. And you don’t have it in you to answer that no, no one has, not last Thursday, not for the past four years, not ever. Not your indifferent father, nor your inebriated mother. Not your bigot grandparents, not your egotistic aunt and her gold-digging husband, not even the housekeeping staff.

You shrug noncommittally.

“Who were the guests of honor, this year?”

The question makes you groan and briefly close your eyes at the memory.

“Adrian’s parents.”

“No?! Fuck! They really want this marriage to happen, don’t they? Looks like you’re not gonna be able to dodge much longer.”

She smacks her hand over her thigh, letting out a short staccato of a chuckle, as if the subject of your confinement through marriage was a laughing matter. You glare at her, crossing your legs and folding your arms over your chest, but the shifting in your demeanor goes unnoticed.

Suddenly, her levity riles you up. She got away. You didn’t. And the only thing that carried you through this year’s Thanksgiving dinner is the perspective of being fucked senseless by a stranger on a dirty motel floor the following night.

For a brief moment, you’re tempted to bite, and retort that, contrary to her, you didn't spend the holiday on your own. But the truth is that you envy her the privilege, and she knows it.

Taking a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to calm your growing nerves, you stir the conversation towards another topic, finding neutral ground with her job. You’re stalling, and you’re not even good at it. You sit restless on that damn hard chair, squirming uncomfortably, sweat prickling under your armpits in the chill artificial air, eyes flicking down to your watch every other second.

“Do you have to be somewhere, or something?”

Your head shoots up. Again, you have no idea what she’s talking about, or how long she’s been rambling for. This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous.

“Listen, Ava, I have to ask you something. A favor. I have to ask you a favor.”

Her eyes widen at your sudden change of tone but she nods. “Hit me.”

“I need you to… I need to be able to tell Adrian that I spend… that I spend Friday nights at your place. Actually, I’ve already been doing it for a while. He thinks we see each other on Friday evenings. I just… I need more time. I need the night.” You grip your shin with both hands and dig your nails in. “It really doesn’t matter anyway, he’s not home on Fridays, he plays poker and he never comes back until like, 3 or 4am, and I just need— I need to be able to come home after him. Not, like, every week. Or yes, maybe every week. Just in case. If ever. You know?”

She remains completely still and silent as you wrestle your words out of your throat. Her face hardens, her wide, green eyes strained on you. She gauges you in silence for another moment, while you rub your clammy palms on your jeans under the table. Above the table, you do your very best to maintain a casual air.

“And what exactly is it that you do, on Friday nights?”

You anticipated the question, of course you did. You swallow around the sharp stone stuck in your throat. Your eyes dart down to your espresso cup. It’s empty.

“I’m just taking a bit of time off for myself.”

More time, to commit his body and his face to your long-term memory after he’s left you, depriving you of his heat. The tiny bits of him that add up to form the formidable sum of the man he is. The locks that curl around his ears. The dip in his collarbone. The little target tattooed on his hand. You’re never sure which hand it’s on, you need more time, that’s all. And you won’t lie to her, not exactly. You set your mind on that early on. But you will not tell her the whole story.

A large shit-eating grin slowly parts her plump lips.

“Are you telling me that Richard’s favorite daughter is getting some side dick on a weekly fucking basis?”

“Jesus, Ava, why do you always have to be so crude?”

“But you are? Right? You are getting dicked down, every fucking Friday night? Right? Are you on Tinder, or something?”

“I’m not—” you start, but her excitement is louder than your exasperation. She uncrosses her legs to lean toward you, propping her elbows on the table and threading her fingers together, talking over you.

“Why didn’t you tell me? For once that something cool–”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” you retort through clenched teeth, raising your voice. Her mouth hangs open in shock. You don’t give her time to recover. “And look, if you don’t want to do that for me, it’s fine, it’s not like anyone is going to call you to ask if I’m with you.”

She takes the blow, leaning back in her chair. “Wow. You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer, shame and anger burning your cheeks.

“Why you’re telling me now, then?”

“Like I said. In case.”

“I case what? In case I find myself on a Friday evening in the same place Adrian takes his cuntsluts?”

You steel yourself and stare at her.

“Something like that, yes.”

—

Two months.

Two months of lies and deception, shoving your bright secret deep down inside you, shrouded under a veil of routine and normalcy.

Nine weeks, split into six days of stretched out hours, swirling languid and excruciating, like smoke from a cigarette stub in a room without air, and one day of counting. The minutes, your steps, your breaths, your heartbeats.

Saturdays, worn-out, appeased, pleasantly aching. Sundays rising slow like a lurking threat. Mondays-Tuesdays-Wednesdays merging, dragging and useless. People talking to you, expecting words, when your mind is filled with two glistening bodies entwined in golden hues. A tremor on Thursdays, the nearing promise, and by Friday morning you’re all frayed nerves and aching want, tapping into your pent-up emptiness for focus and patience.

Friday evenings sliced up into a ritualized sequence of actions.

At 6pm, you leave your office and head toward the employees' underground parking. There are 37 steps from your desk to the two silver-doors elevators on the landing. Seventeen stories down, including 2 underground levels, and 58 steps from the elevators to your designated parking place. It is crucial that you don’t allow the pace of your steps to catch up with the racing thumps of your heart.

From downtown Tampa, it’s an hour and thirty-six minutes drive north on the 589, before you reach the motel. An hour and fifty minutes, two hours top, if the traffic’s bad. There might be faster alternative routes, but you don’t use the GPS, so you don’t know about them.

Once you’re there, you park in front of room number 7, the one with the missing brass number. You stuff your phone into your purse, which you slide under your seat.

You exit your car and walk towards the reception in short, hurried strides, cursing the tight skirt that hinders your steps and gives your posture a subdued aspect, which is probably why your father imposes the garment on his female employees.

The reception is a square room with an old humming AC unit, dark-brown fabric wallpaper, yellowing popcorn ceiling and a counter behind which sits Raul, the night clerk. Raul is a short man in his mid-60s. His dark eyes are reshaped into tiny concentric boot buttons by the thick lenses of his small, round glasses. His light brown, straight hair is styled in a bowl cut. He only wears beige Henley’s with rolled-up sleeves and indigo painter overalls. You’ve never seen his shoes.

Every week, Raul hands you the key to room number 2 without lifting his boot-button eyes from the charcoal drawing he busies himself over behind the counter, and tells you in a thick accent that “everything has already been taken care of.”

Every week, you thank Raul, grab the key from his stretched out left hand, and chance a glance over the counter to see what he’s drawing. Mountains, infallibly, week after week, the scenery only varying in shape and shades of anthracite.

And every week, as you exit the reception, you feel Raul’s boot-button eyes strained on your back through his round glasses.

When you step inside room number 2, you flick up the two toggle switches by the door, turning on the lights and the overhead fan, and you go to the bathroom to wash your hands and check your reflection in the antique black-edged mirror.

Then, you return to the room and you sit on the bed. That’s where you wait for him.

You don’t undress, you don’t lie down, you don’t undo the bed.

You know what he’ll do to your clothes. Anticipation trickles down along your spine all the way to the ripe heat between your thighs, and it travels right back up to tug up at the corners of your lips, but you press them together, lips and thighs, as you wait.

He comes in after dark, preceded by the sound of tires on gravel and that of his boots stomping on the porch and he’s here, Frankie’s here, the rush of night air from outside when he storms into the room wafting over your face.

He greets you with a hoarse voice, like he hasn’t used it all week, and he takes a couple of long strides towards the desk, where he sets down his cap. You peer at his reflection in the framed mirror when he combs his fingers through his dark curls, tense jaw, creased brow. You study his broad shoulders, the rippling muscles of his strong back, when he takes off his jacket and drapes it on the back of the chair, swift, precise gestures. It’s his own ceremonial, you let him have it, his transition into this world that you share. The confine of this room. Brown carpet, yellow curtains.

When he turns to face you, at last, it’s always with a heavy, grating sigh, a sound so rough and primitive to express his relief, his hunger, the limit of his patience. You stand up slowly, unfurling in slow motion from your sitting position on the edge of the bed, eyes on him, forever and always. His want radiates from him in colorful angry waves, like a tangible, virulent aura, black eyes boring into your skin and you welcome it as it pours out of him and creeps up to you like thick fumes.

You stand tall in the charged stillness of the motel room, offered, but not quite yet within reach, waiting for him to come and seize you.

“Take off your clothes,” he says as he comes closer, tilting up his chin. The command rumbles low and guttural from his throat, and those words are your cue. You clamber out of your statuesque stillness, twisting your ankles out of your pumps while he tugs at your blouse, as he crashes his lips onto yours.

His first kiss is voracious, unescapable, your face trapped between his cupped hands, and you’re engulfed in the taste of him, drowning in the scent of him, leather and soap and musk. And something metallic you have no name for. It’s intoxicating, you’re floating, losing both bearings and balance, like when you were thirteen, and you’d sneak to the downstairs pantry to drink your mother’s gin before dinner.

On some Friday nights, you’ve already made it back to your glass prison when you notice a tear in the seam of your shirt, or a missing button. “Take off those fucking clothes, I wanna feel your skin.”

“Yes,” you answer with parted lips, parted heart, parted life, jaunty fingers working your skirt open.

Beyond that point, neither of you talks much.

It’s his name –Frankie– falling from your lips, a long but quiet whimper when you come, a whine of pleasure-plain when he inches into you, a moan when you plead for more, a whisper when you promise you can take it all.

It’s his clipped orders, sharp and short.

Open up

Push back into it

Let me hear you

I want you to come on it

And two words, always the same since that first time in the parking lot.

Stop me.

Stop me when he pins your hands above your head or folds your arms in the small of your back, his fingers like shackles around your wrists, and he lines himself up. Stop me before his saliva drips down his tongue in fat drops between your breasts, and he straddles your chest. Stop me, when he closes a fist in your hair and slides you down along his hard length, your chest caving in under your gag reflex, beads of tears like precious shiny diamonds clinging to your lashes. Stop me when he angles your spine backwards with a sudden tug on your hair, when he bands an arm across your belly and ragdolls you to the floor to fuck you harder and deeper. Stop me when he ties your wrists to your ankles with the black zip ties that bite into your flesh.

Stop me with the flat of his hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, Stop me with his thumb teasing your tight ring, Stop me with your legs around his neck.

Those two words, a beacon guiding you through the week that precedes.

Sometimes, when you’re alone, you repeat them to yourself.

“Stop me,” you say, low and quiet, facing the mirror when you're applying makeup, staring straight into your eyes, so intently it twists your reflection.

“Stop me.” A whisper, and a slow-spreading, carnivorous smile that splits your face in two because someone, at last, wants you beyond reason.

Stop me. You will never stop him.

He fucks you twice, three times a night, before he leaves you covered in him, sated and sprawled on the rumpled bed around 2am, with a nod and a husked, “I’ll see you next Friday.” He sounds calm at last. Drained.

Once he’s gone, in the rumbling of the pickup’s engine and the screeching of the tires, your mental countdown to the next Friday is reset. You crouch into the narrow bathtub of dubious cleanliness, and ruefully wash him away in the trickle of hot water. You try to hold on to the thought of him, even more so than to the feeling of his touch. That’s what the soreness is for. It will stay with you until Monday at least.

But in your memory, his face is blurred. Only his sad angry eyes stand out, dreamlike, entrancing.

There's a conflicting distance beyond his hunger. An underlying restraint beyond his roughness. Withheld intimacy. A reluctance to give into your softest touches, when his forehead briefly rests on the plane of your chest, and you circle his neck, or carefully run your fingers through his sweat-soaked curls.

It doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to understand that if he wasn’t in here with you, he’d be somewhere else, doing something worse.

Some weeks, you go through strings of sleepless nights and restless days of anguish, your mind spiraling to the agonizing thought that you are nothing more to him than an empty and interchangeable vessel into which he can fuck his rage.

With masochistic thoroughness, you pull taut a red woolen thread to connect the clues of your insignificance.

He doesn’t name you. There are no sweet names, no terms of endearment, and he certainly never calls you Marion. The sounds he produces when he’s inside you, that’s your reward. Deep guttural grunts, and if you’re lucky enough, they resonate through your whole body when he holds you tight and close.

He never comes inside you. Where do you want it? he pants, when his hips start to fall out of pace. “Mouth,” you quickly answer, always, a greedy match for his gritty ways. And most times, he obliges. Flips you around or scoot over you and shoves his pulsating cock into your warm, wanton mouth.

But sometimes, he doesn’t. The thick pearly white ropes of his spend spurt over your back, your belly, your chest. That’s when he’s got a mind to rub it into your skin. That’s when you want to believe he might have chosen you to be here with him.

In those scarce instances, you are tempted to rely on your instinctual understanding of your relationship. Far from the toxic codependency that, according to Ava, you feed into with Adrian, what you share with Frankie is elsewhere entirely. Week after week, he presents himself before you, visibly wounded, willing to offer exactly as much as he needs to receive. The balance is perfect. No travesty, complete equality. The purest form of interaction. The most honest transaction you’ve ever taken part in.

And thus, no matter how remote he may seem on some nights, no matter how dark his eyes, how clouded his gaze, or how brutal his hold, you can’t help but feel safe.

The feeling thrums underneath your skin and finds an echo in his bloodstream. You hear it in your shared silence, when you lie side by side on the bed and stare emptily at the ceiling, chests heaving, bodies cooling off. When a shiver rakes through you, he gets up and turns off the overhead fan. Walks over to the bathroom to bring you a glass of water.

He’s given you everything you wanted and didn’t know how to ask for.

And when he looks you in the eyes, he doesn’t blink.

Stop me, he says, and what you hear is, Trust me.

He’s been quick to learn your body, and he’s greedy with your highs. He keeps you pinned down onto the threadbare linen with his mouth fastened around your cunt until your legs tremble and your throat is hoarse with your repeated high-pitched moans, the stubble on his cheeks scraping the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Bestowing pleasure, drinking it right back.

Your body expands into new sensations, after years of a dormant existence, curled up within your outer shell into the tightest ball, the smallest possible shape. You’re spreading, stretching into your limbs, filling them in. Growing nerve endings that shoot farther along your extremities with each fiery kiss, each starving touch, each orgasm, like trees rooting in beautiful, intricate ramifications.

The wild creature nestled between your lungs has a mind of its own. You’re developing emotions unknown to you until now.

The tranquil contentment he leaves you with when he steps back into the night and closes the door behind him rapidly fades over the following days. By Sunday evening, there’s nothing left of it, and you find yourself shivering, deprived of his heat, unsettled, agitated.

Your mind wanders to her. The faceless, nameless woman he drives back to after you’ve fucked each other free of your pain.

Envy, tinged with hatred, pours ugly inside your chest, pressing against your rib cage, hindering your breathing, its heavy particles tainting your oxygen.

Does he handle her with reverence? Does he use sweet names to beckon her into his embrace? Does he spit in her mouth, does she beg him to? Does he rub his spend into her skin, or does he stuff her pussy full of his seed?

Whenever you loosen the grip on your thoughts, you’re brought back to a large reception room on the last floor of another glass prison, stilettos wounding your feet, strangers with empty smiles and cruel eyes drinking from crystal champagne glasses. The excruciating misery of having to interact with Adrian’s colleagues, laughing at golf jokes you did not understand, desperate to fit in. Fighting your survival instinct, to tether yourself and not present a blank stare to those people you were supposed to impress. As Adrian’s fiancée. As your father’s daughter.

The effort seemed worth it, then. You were in love. Or so you thought. In hindsight, you’re not certain anymore. Reinterpreting your past is a temptation you try not to succumb to. In more then one way, you still love him.

There was a hushed tremor in the faceless assembly of tuxedos and cocktail dresses, and you saw her entering the room, parting the crowd. Slender, swaying, lush honey blonde locks and incandescent hazel eyes. Junior partner at Adrian’s firm, quickly climbing the ranks, flawless makeup and oozing self-confidence, she smoked Vogue cigarettes and when your gaze returned to Adrian, everything fell into place. You knew with a chilling certainty that this formidable young woman was fucking your boyfriend.

Adrian had had a couple of flings in the past, but this one was different. He fell for her hard, a grown man in a teenage-like trance. Your blood left your face when you realized everyone else in the penthouse, and most likely in the firm, could see what you were seeing.

You decided then and there that you were never going to marry him, regardless of what he or your father would threaten you with.

But even then, what you had experienced wasn’t jealousy. You’d felt trapped, and yes, betrayed. Wounded, in what little self-esteem you possessed. Thoroughly defeated. But you did not feel jealous.

You understand it now, and every time you think of Frankie’s touch grazing the faceless woman. Every time you torture yourself into considering the nature of their bond and the depth of their attachment.

Would Frankie look at you the way Adrian looked at her? With blunt desire, unabashed, irrepressible thirst? With belonging? Would people around you know? Would they identify you as lovers?

After all, a single glance had been enough for him to take you from a bar, to a parking lot, to a motel. To make you desperate to mean something to him.

Does he miss you outside your shared time? Does he think of you? Does his mind wander to your skin in the blue morning hours, does he try to name your scent?

Deep down, you are no fool. If there’s one thing you’ve always known in this life, it’s your place.

But some Friday nights are more dangerous. They give you too much hope. Prompting you to call your sister, for instance, and risk your little secret so you can spend more time in the small room with the yellow curtains. Wrap yourself in the dirty sheets that bear his musky scent, instead of jumping into the shower. Linger into that breach of your life’s continuum. Extend the delusion.

Last Friday, he buried his face into your core and drew violent waves of release that he kissed back into you, swirling his tongue into your mouth to coat it with your taste.

His face was shiny with your slick and his body glistening with sweat in the soft yellow hues from the bedside lamps, when he got up to the desk and slid his belt out of the loops of his pants.

Your eyes grew wide, but not with fear.

He placed you face down on the bed, with your arms along your chest, and he trapped your body with the belt. You accompanied his movements, docile, curious, without apprehension. The metal buckle was cool on your feverish skin, and the leather smelled like him.

Stop me. He was hard and thick, and he fucked into you in long, thorough strokes, dragging the round tip of his cock along your clenching walls, slamming his hips into the swell of your ass. With his thumb pushing into your asshole and his hand around the belt to keep you where he needed you to lie still.

You came in seismic tides that quaked along your body in concentric ripples, from your wrung out core to the extremities of your fingers and toes. The sound that came out of your throat was unrecognizable, and perhaps it was his. Your mind tipped over into unconsciousness. When you resurfaced, his cock was rubbing in the cleft of your cheeks, his come leaking down the curve of your back, mixing in with your combined sweat, his chest pressing down onto your shoulder blades.

You felt his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, hot breath searing his choked up words into your soul.

“You’re a good girl. Say it. Say you’re a good girl.”

“I’m— I’m—“

“That’s it, say it for me.”

He was lying heavy on top of you, sinking you into the mattress, his belt buckle digging into your side. This was going to leave a mark.

“I’m a good girl.”

“You’re my good girl.”

You will never stop him.

—

Sitting on the edge of the bed, with your back straight and your ankles crossed, you wait. Eyes on the yellow curtains, darting beyond the dusty fabric into the warm December night. It’s yours. All of it. Yours until morning.

There’s the faintest hint of a bad taste sitting on the back of your tongue. Coppery, bloodlike. It comes in waves every time you remember how you twisted your baby sister’s arm into covering for you. But the night is yours. You swallow hard, force a smile. You want to be guiltless, for once.

“Polly says you’re overly secretive. That you like to live ‘hidden between the folds of life’, as she puts it. Something about culpability being a coping mechanism…”

The words, delivered flatly after you’d stubbornly diverted and defused all her questions, had cut through the most tender parts of your flesh.

“Is that her professional opinion?” you had retorted, your chin tilted up as if you were not bleeding inside.

You swallow hard again. If you close your eyes, if you concentrate, you can almost hear it. The pickup’s engine, bolting down the asphalt, bringing him into your needy arms. You can feel the heat radiating from his solid chest and seeping into your body through your palms, resting empty and upwards on your lap. Your tongue tingles with his tangy taste, a trail of goosebumps breaks across your skin, anticipating his caress.

Frankie.

The daydream that carries you through the week, carries you through that very last stretch.

Until the man himself storms into the room like bad weather. Dark, electric, a standing threat.

One look at his face and you know. It’s going to be one of these nights that make you doubt everything.

At first, the change in the script is barely perceptible. There is no gentle acclimatization, no ceremonial, no tacitly shared ritual. He doesn’t face away to let you observe his reflection in the mirror. But he looks like he hasn’t slept since last Friday. The crease in his brow is forbidding, his eyes are too bright, too clouded, circled in black and you’re dizzy with the distance you find there. Tension rolls out from his taut muscles underneath his clothes and you stand up, alert, if not entirely ready.

“Get naked,” he growls, tugging his gray t-shirt over his head, his trucker hat falling to the floor and tonight, you miss your cue.

Instead, you come closer, extending your hands towards him. You call him in a murmur, Frankie, but the wild thumping of his heart under your trembling palms cuts you short.

The light flickers in his eyes, so you hang in brave, hang onto the thread of your touch, sliding your hands up his burning chest. He stills. His gaze focuses on you for the first time since he came in. Your fingertips brush lightly along his collarbone, to the dip at the base of his neck, where they linger, underlining the hollow shape of it, skating around his neck to his nape. His brow shifts, his jaw ticks, and you draw him in for a kiss.

He jolts when your lips meet his. His hands grip your hips, rough and desperate. This is the part where you melt into him, surrender to his touch, but tonight the balance is tipped off. He licks into your mouth with a pained, muffled whimper, and your eyes remain open.

You’re powerless, powerless to get to him and bring him back to you from wherever the hell he may be. And his distance settles between your two bodies, an invisible partition. It stands erect and opaque, projecting its shadow over you when he lies you down on the synthetic quilt and dives between your hips. His ministrations are detached, performative, mechanical. There’s no contained urgency in his handling of you. Empty touches, empty silence, and you orgasm weakly, the sensation floating on the surface of you.

You can sense him, trapped behind his black eyes and this damn crease that splits his face above them, only you can’t reach him. He won’t let you. For every one of your attempts at a caress, at tenderness, is rejected by a shrug, a push of his hand, a shake of his head.

Sweat breaks on his forehead and dampens his curls as he becomes restless, showing none of the familiar signs of the relief he finds in your release, when he hums softly into you, lapping at your entrance to capture what you offer him, what he drew from you. Impatience and desperation roughen his grip on you. He shoves you to the head of the bed and you scramble, sliding on the slippery quilt, curled on your side, until you’re caged between his rigid body and the headboard.

There’s no warning, no Stop me, when he lines himself up with a stifled groan. You bury your face into the pillow and bite down on it to muffle the pain when he splits you open. He starts rutting into you with unrestrained strength, forcing through the vice grip of your tight cunt around his hard length. You try to relax into it. That’s all you ever want, for him to fill you up, to be inside you and around you, but that’s the thing: he’s not touching you. Not really.

Instead of gripping the curve of your hips, or kneading your breast, or lying between your shoulder blades, his hands are clenched on the headboard, white knuckled. His bent knee doesn’t quite touch your folded legs, his hips don’t even slap against the swell of your cheeks.

“Frankie,” you try, but your voice comes out thin as a ripping thread. It’s immediately drowned under the sounds filling the room, the creaking of the bed, his strained breathing.

“Frankie,” you call again, louder this time, reaching to the side to grab his thigh.

He jerks at the contact, sliding out of you with a hiss like you just burned him with a red-hot iron. You grab the side of the headboard to haul yourself up. Behind you, you feel him falling back on his knees. For a few seconds, you can’t bring yourself to move. You remain hunched over, fingers wrapped so tightly on the hardboard, your nails digging into the cheap, tender wood.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you turn around to face him.

Your heart sinks and chatters at the sight of him, of his glassy, pleading eyes that won’t meet yours. His chest heaves with exertion, and the weight of something else. He grazes a palm over his face, tilting his head down.

“I hurt you. I fucking hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tonight, this is it. These words are your cue.

“No,” you start, scooting closer to him as he shakes his head, exhausted, isolated. The gesture no longer carries the warning it did as he was about to succumb. It’s a measure of his failure, of the depth of his defeat, and it chills you to the bones.

“No,” you repeat, stronger, and you offer him the only lifeline you know.

Closing the physical distance, you straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. When his body stiffens, you harden your hold.

“Frankie… Frankie…” you coo, again and again, like his name holds the solution, and all of your devotion. You say it as you press your forehead to his, as you rub your cheek against his stubble, as you nuzzle the sharp edge of his nose, and trace his plush lips with yours.

Until his shoulders sag under your embrace, until you feel the choked up breath that quakes his chest, you keep repeating his name. A few minutes, or an infinity of seconds, time doesn’t matter anymore. The night is yours, your skins are glued together in the soft yellow light.

His arms circle your waist, hesitant at first, but you encourage him, raking your fingers through his hair, twining them into his soft curls. He lets you, he gives in, tucking his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales you there, raising the soft hair on your nape. His voice is broken when he speaks.

“I’m not–”

“Frankie don’t, please don’t,” you cut in.

You know the words that are piling bitter and desperate on his tongue, know them on an instinctual level. You feel them swirling, black and hopeless inside his head, you’ve known them from the very beginning, recognized them in the sadness of his angry stare. And you won’t let him pronounce them inside this room you share, you won’t let him give them any kind of substantiality. Not between your arms, not against your skin.

“I’m not hurt,” you begin, pulling back to see his face, to look into his eyes and sink your words of hope and faith into him, past the barrier of remorse and regret, “I want everything you–” but his brow furrows deeper as he clenches his eyes shut, and you trail off.

Panic briefly floods your brain. You’re acutely aware of your shortcomings and limitations, of all the things you’ve never been taught growing up. How to translate feelings into words, how to express compassion, how to care for others. How to be heard.

You take a deep, shaky breath, your breasts pushing into his chest.

“Look at me, Frankie baby. Look at me. Let me–”

Let me in. Let me be yours. Let me mean something.

Your plea dies on your tongue when his eyes shoot open. They shine with unshed tears, pierced by a ray of light from the bedside table, and for the first time, you see that they’re not black. They were never black. His eyes are brown, a deep, rich, precious mahogany brown. The color paints your vision, it flows into your bloodstream and courses along your veins. It spreads into your heart, gets tangled in your soul. Around you, the whole world disappears, along with everyone in it. There is only him, his mahogany eyes brimming with tears, and the feeling of his hot, damp skin against yours.

His arms wrap tighter around your back, his warmth seeps into your bones. His hands find purchase on your curves, drawing you closer.

“I want you so badly to be real,” he whispers, quiet and pained, like he can’t ask you this much, but you know that, for him, you’re willing to be.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again.

Swallowing down the tremor in your throat, you give him a tender smile, tinted with gratitude, colored with praise. You cup his face, fingernails scratching at the heart-shaped patch on his jawline. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you give him what he needs, leaning in to press them to his.

Underneath you, his length throbs with unreleased hunger, and you sway your hips over it. He moans against your lips, the vibration trails down to your core like hot, liquid amber. His tongue peaks out, and you open up for him, like you always have, like you always will. A grating sound comes out of his throat, an echo of your gratitude, a mirror of your pain, a reflection of your loneliness.

He breaks the kiss to lift you up gently, helping you find friction with his cock sliding between your folds, where it pulsates hard and thick against your clit. Your limbs turn to molasses, toffee soft and sticky, but your hips lock into a slow, languid rhythm, slick pooling down on him as you stroke him between your two bodies. His right hand skates up flat along your spine, to settle on your nape.

He draws you in closer, closer than you’ve ever been. His heart beats inside your chest, enveloping the purring wild creature you still can’t name or tame.

“Make us come, baby.”

A dry sob undulates up to your throat. Your eyes fill with hot tears, they spill against his temple. Mahogany explodes inside your brain. The night is yours.

“Yes, Frankie.”

“Make us come together.”

****

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @your-voice-is-mellifluous @mylostloversbookmarks @readingiskeepingmegoing @lovesbiggerthanpride @youandmeand5bucks-blog @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @southernbe @blackvelveteen1339 @anoverwhelmingdin @casa-boiardi @nandan11 @jessthebaker @pedroshotwifey @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @noisynightmarepoetry @missladym1981 @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @survivingandenduring @jeewrites

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peoniesnro · 24 days

Text

In Another Universe

#5. A beautiful memory

Synopsis - When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre- parallel universe (duh)/ kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings - Language/dirty thoughts

Word Count - 11k

a/n- This is a bit early and serves as a bridge between the previous and upcoming chapters. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading! ♥️

Taglist

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

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“You want me to do what?” You shout, placing your palms on the kitchen island. A little bit harshly that a soft bang echoes. Jimin just seriously stares at you. Not even flinching at the sound.

“Park Jimin. Tell me you’re not serious.” You say again as he doesn’t reply. Jimin gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I am spring roll. I am very serious.” Says finally, expression still very serious.

He must be losing his damn mind.

You sigh, exasperated. “But I know shit about business Park. What do you expect me to do there?” You throw your hands in the air. Jimin sighs too. Leans forward a bit over the kitchen island. Interlaces his fingers together.

“Listen Lil, just because Liya doesn’t remember this day, that doesn’t mean that other people too. They are gonna wonder what happened to Kim Liya. She has a business to run, and I don’t want everyone she knows on my doorstep asking where she is. You need to cover her life on her behalf while you are here Lil. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to.” He looks directly at your eyes.

You groan as you look away from his face. Eyes landing on the document on the island. Your ticket to disappear every other day without getting into any trouble. Written proof that you have CFS. You don’t even know what that means. As Jimin explained that means you are experiencing profound fatigue. Which means you’ll need special consideration. The letter is from a non- existent GP. But the hospital he works exists. In your world. Everybody knows it and as long as no one decides to contact this doctor and check for themselves, you are safe. And you know that nobody would walk that length for you. Except for Key. Oh, she is going to be thrilled when she sees this.

Jimin, in that case, did a god damn good job. This letter seems astonishingly legit. He did all that with the details you provided about the hospital. And he did that within a day. Impressive. Scary. Makes you realise he is a fucking CEO. Owns a damn business. Has connections. Still, sits here with a pout on his lips when you call him an asshole. Fuck! He is adorable.

Funny how you don’t see him as the powerful businessman he is. But rather just a man who is couple years older than you. A friendly one. Hot one. Caring one. Looks intimidating sometimes but makes you quite comfortable. See, he is a funny thing. Makes you wonder how he is when he is at work. Is he like this with everyone? Probably not. Maybe he is a very serious boss. You may not know very much about him yet, but you know he must be a successful businessman. He needs to be a responsible and serious leader to accomplish that.

Still, you can’t believe it. Can’t imagine him being, this impressive, grumpy, wise boss when he sits here with you in his sweatpants. His hair all messy and tousled. His plump lips still in a pout. You can’t believe him being a CEO of a company when he always comes up with stupid ideas whenever he is with you. Exactly like now, when he wants you to attend a damn board meeting in place of Liya. As the CEO of The SE, which is apparently the biggest publishing group in this Seoul, South Korea. A part of the Kim Group. You didn’t know what that is until Jimin explained. According to that explanation, Liya’s father owns the half of this country. And he wants you to pretend be his daughter and attend this broad meeting. When you barely understand the basics of business.

You turn back to Jimin. Ready to tell him to fuck off, and you can’t do it at all, but he beats you to it.

“Oh, c’mon. You said we’re friends Rollito. Friends help each other.” Whines. Looks like he might stomp his foot under the island. He doesn’t. Instead, gives you puppy eyes.

That friends part does something weird to your heart. Why did you ever tell you are friends now? Is a good idea though. You’re back to arguing over silly matters. Nobody avoids anyone. No guilty conscience. Just friends.

It was a close call. You were on the verge of spreading your legs for Park Jimin. Getting fucked and become the other woman. Woman who he cheated on his girlfriend with. If that ever happened that would have made you want to drown yourself. Can’t imagine living with such a burden on your shoulders. Even the things that happened made you want to go through a purification to get rid of your sins. Made you think how much of a bitch you are for wanting to kill Kim Taehyung for cheating and doing the same thing with his best friend.

The way thing turns out is good. Very good in fact. Even though you feel heavy whenever he or you mentioned you are friends. It will go away someday. This heavy feeling. It will.

You watch the way Jimin is still giving you puppy eyes. Makes you roll yours as a reply. “Oh, fuck Park Jimin. You’re so annoying. Can we go back to being strangers. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. You’re opportunistic.” You huff when he gasps in disbelief. “An opportunistic?” Clutches his heart and winces. “Can’t believe you’re saying such horrible things to me after I helped you.” Reaches for the document on the table. Takes it in his hand before continuing. Brandishes it in front of your eyes.

“See, I helped you. Don’t be a selfish ass and do this for me in return.” Puts the paper back. You are the one gasping in disbelief now.

“Yah! I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“So what? You could have solved the problem by yourself?” He looks way too smug for his own good. “Yes of course, Park. I’m fully capable of solving my own problems.” You tilt your chin up. His smug look gets worse. “Oh yeah? Do you need rem—”

“No thanks. I’ll do it.” You stand up. Take the letter. “Because we are friends and friends help each other.” Say as you push the chair back. With a screeching sound. “But I want you to know Park, that I can solve my problems most of the times. I’ve been doing that all my life. You’re the one who butts in to everything.” You’re saying the absolute truth. You could have solved this problem by your own. It would be hard. Jimin made it way easier. Still, you would’ve found a solution in the end. You’re grateful for him helping though. Just don’t want to feed his ego.

Jimin opens his mouth to retort when you interrupt him. Point your finger at him. “And just remember if your girlfriend’s damn business went to bankrupt, it’s all on you Park. All on you.” Look him in the eye when they disappear in his cheeks. Like always. You like that a little too much. How mesmerizing.

Jimin is grinning. And then chuckling.

“Fine.” Says through his chuckle. “Trust me, you don’t have to do anything. Just sit at the executive chair.” Stands up too. Rounds the kitchen island to walks towards you. Stops. Smiles again. Ruffles your already messy hair. Only for a second. And then he is going away.

Your heart stops for that second.

Oh fuck! You need to get laid.

...................................................................................................

You bite your thumbnail while gaping at the pristine glass building through the window. The building itself is enormous. Shines under the cold winter sun. Majestically. A modern architectural masterpiece. And you are to pretend the owner of that building.

Holy fuck!

This is The SE group. Liya’s father owns this. Liya manages it. She is amazing. The thing is, you don’t think you’re that amazing. Even looking at the building makes your stomach turns and churns awfully. Cold beads of sweat appearing on your forehead. You can think about twelve million things that can possibly go wrong. Oh, shit this is a bad idea. A terrible idea. You start chewing your thumb nail even faster. Habitual flaws that you were unable of letting go. That’s why you have perfectly manicured nails on your other fingers but the right thumbnail looks like it survived seven wars. Can’t help it.

You keep gaping at the building and chomp your own finger when Jimin’s hand reaches for you. After he sighs heavily. It makes you slightly startle and jump in your seat. He grabs your wrist. Makes you stop chewing your nail off.

“Fucking stop it Lil. You gonna hurt yourself.” Says as he yanks your hand down. You turn to look at him. He has a scowl on his face. Is starting at your hand. You follow his gaze. Look at your poor finger. Are about to say that you can’t help it when he cut you down by wiping your finger clean. With his hand. A simple and innocent act. Yet, your nervously beating heart stops again. Just like how it did when he stroked your hair. You shift your gaze back to his face with your eyes wide.

Did he just wipe your finger? Isn’t that gross?

Apparently, it’s not. Not when he is completely unaware and unfazed. Is stroking your finger gently. As if he wants to soothe it. Oh, you and him trying to sooth things are not good. Especially, when you feel these strange sensations in your tummy and your heart is squeezing. In a very bittersweet manner. That’s why you clear your throat and retrieve your hand from his soft grip. Look back at the building.

“I can’t help it.” Say finally. Avoid looking at him. Still, can feel his burning gaze on your face. “Yeah, but it’s bad.” He mutters and shifts in his seat. You just nod. Want to change the subject and the sudden heavy atmosphere.

“This is really bad Jimin. How am I going to pretend like a fucking CEO when I don’t even know which floor my office is. What if I ended up in the bathroom instead?” You question wearily. Finally finding the courage to look back at him. Meet his gaze. He chuckles.

“Office is on the top floor. And you are not gonna miss it Spring Roll. Your secretary, I mean, Liya’s secretary will meet you when you enter the building. She is expecting you. All you have to do is act like you own the place.” He sounds like it’s all easy. Well, it’s easier when it’s said. You’re the one who have to do it for real. You whine pathetically as you slump down. Drowning yourself in the comfy leather seat. You absolutely don’t want to leave Jimin’s car.

Jimin gives you a soft look. Unbuckle his seatbelt so he can lean toward you. You don’t like this. He is way too comfortable with you. How can he be like that? Isn’t he afraid, you’ll mess things up again? Maybe he doesn’t feel like how you feel. You shouldn’t feel this way either. But you do and he makes it worse. You wonder if he solved his horny ass problem. Finally fucked his girlfriend that he will be not horny for a year.

Well, you haven’t solved yours. You still have your horny ass, and he should keep his distance. You wish he would but of course he doesn’t. Brings his face inches closer to you. Breath fanning your face. It makes your nipples ache and panties soak. How pathetic? Suddenly, you want to leave his car.

“You don’t have to do anything Lil. Trust me it’s going to be all okay. Just sit at the meeting and then call your driver when it’s finished. He’ll take you home and all done. Everyone’s happy.” Squeezes your thigh. Makes your skin burn and tummy flutter. You’re crying internally. It’s a painful and deep desire that he ignites within you. You want him to stop and not, at the same time.

Jimin keeps his hand on your thigh for a long minute before reclines from your personal space. How you are glad. It’s not wise to be here with him. Better if you get away even though you’ll have to manage a business. Besides he says it’ll be okay. You’ll trust him with this. So, you nod at last. That makes him grin.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” Says proudly. You on other hand, are back to stare at him with wide eyes.

Who’s who now?

What the fuck does he think he’s doing. You want to get away from here. Fast as you can. You hand is already on the door handle when he speaks again. “You’re a damn good friend Spring Roll.” Says happily. And you feel that disappointed ache. Fuck it. What’s wrong with you? You need to be on this just like him. That’s how you are going to survive this until you find your answers. Yes. You need to be his friend. So, you take a sneaky breath. Turn to him and scowl.

“Fucking opportunistic.” Mumble and exit the car. Take one final look at him when he wishes you luck. Wait there until he drives away.

How beautiful his little smile is.

...................................................................................................

You didn’t mess up. Surprisingly so. Yes, you sat there at an opulent conference room with an ashen face and clammy palms. Yes, you stupidly gape at all professional looking fellas there, whenever they asked something from you. Still, you managed to get through that with yes and nos. Even got the false impression that running a business isn’t that hard when all you have to do is say yes or no. In the end, you managed. Better than you thought, and you could pat yourself on the back for being that good. Being good at acting like you own the place.

Only minor issue you caused was calling Liya’s secretary Mrs. Seong. She appeared stunned. As if you had called her by a insulting name instead her real one. Turned out that apparently Liya just calls her by her first name. She herself told you that. Asked you what is the matter with you. And then of course she nearly had a heart attack when you refused to let her go to bring you a coffee. She is older. Probably good ten years older than you. Doesn’t sit right with you to call her by her first name. And then send her to bring you coffee? You were horrified.

You are extremely relieved now when you finally exited the pristine building after you called your (Liya’s) driver. Jimin had given you Liya’s phone despite your protests. Said it was okay. You are Liya while being at the office. That’s how he managed to get you inside this navy-blue Cashmere knee length skirt and the white turtleneck sweater. A winter coat to keep you warm. Knee high boots on your feet and very expensive looking bag on your hand. You and Jimin made sure that you emulate Liya in every possible way. From your clothes to hair. You thought you did a good job. Jimin thought you did a very poor job.

You smile to yourself when you notice the sleek, white car parked in front of the building. Even though everything went impressively well, you still don’t wish to linger here anymore. Especially, with Mrs. Seong bombarding with you hundred different questions. She just won’t accept your excuse of wanting to meet your boyfriend as a good excuse to cancel lunch plans with a client. An important one in that case.

“It’s a good excuse Mrs. Seong. I need to have a private life as well. You get me?” You sternly say as walking briskly towards the vehicle. The woman in the bob cut following close behind you. “But this is a very rare chance, Miss Liya. Didn’t you want to have another chance with Owen Scott?” Her high heels clatter against the cobblestone floor. She doesn’t let you just disappear. Makes you annoyed. You don’t know what this deal is or how important that is. No that you care anyway. Jimin wanted you to be here. At this one meeting. You have no intention of going through another painful business meeting. Lunch or not. You sigh as you reach the car. The driver gets out to hold the door open for you.

How uncomfortable?

“Please can you reschedule this lunch for me Mrs. Seong. I can’t ditch Jimin today. This is important. Trust me hm? Please give Mr. Scott a good reason.” You finalize and turn to get into the car. Rudely ignoring her protests. You’ll let Jimin deal with this later.

You mutter a soft ‘thank you’ to the driver as you almost get into the car when a voice, which does not belong to the woman, interrupts you. You take the foot you place inside the car back. Turn around. Eyes going wide and then a huge grin breaking out on your face as you recognize the man in front of you.

“Jungkook?” You nearly squeak in excitement but catch yourself right at the time. Eyes raking on his broad figure and then landing on the person next to him. The girl with the purple hair. “J!” You exclaim again. Happily. Jungkook looks the same as you remember. J has cut her hair a little bit shorter. Daring. You like her.

“Noona.” Jungkook squeak loud enough for all of you. Takes a step forward. Nearly touches you when J yank him back. He frowns at her first. Then smiles at you again. “What are you doing here?” Asks excitedly. Both him and J have two banana milks in their hands. You hide your amused grin while shrugging. It feels extremely wrong and weird to lie all over again. “Work, I guess.” You look at The SE building. Their eyes follow you. “Oh, you work here?” J wonders. Her eyes squinted and takin a good look at the glass establishment. Jungkook does the same.

You don’t want to take credit on someone else’s behalf after all. Hence, why you are about to tell yes and let it go. But then J suddenly gasps. “Wait? Aren’t you own this?” She gestures to the building. Well, you don’t at all. You don’t even own a doll house to be precise. And then regarding this building, Liya doesn’t own it either. Technically, it’s her father’s. Yet, you just nod anyway. Easier that way.

Jungkook lets out a low whistle. His eyes in a faraway land. “Can you fuckin believe we clubbed with a bunch of freaking CEOs” Asks from J when she shakes her head. Almost in a pure disbelief. “All thanks to Joonie. I love him. Too bad the bugger is already in love.” J sighs dreamily. You guess they are referring to Kim Namjoon. The acquaintance of Hoseok. Jungkook nods in assent. “Too fucking bad. Even if he isn’t J, J, you still have no chance against me.” Mutters. He looks dreamy just like J. “Wanna bet?” J breaks the stupor and snaps her head to him. Now she looks very serious. Jungkook scoffs. “Fuck yeah, how much?” Challenges.

You think you can watch their bantering for a whole day. There’s a low laughter emitting from inside your cheat. Unfortunate, how a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn around, suddenly remembering the bob cut woman. She is scowling. Displeasure evident on her face. “Your ride Miss. Liya.” She turns toward the car. Driver still holding the door open for you.

Ah yes! The ride.

“Ah yes. I better get going now guys. See you sometime later? Huh?” You grab the door and say to the two people. They are both watching you intently now. You give them a soft yet polite smile. Bow. J reciprocates your actions. Jungkook doesn’t. Takes a moment. Then suddenly, completely out of blue, thrusts his banana milk to you. Surprises you more than a little. Even makes you stumble backward at the intensity of how he jolted his hand out. A soft oh leaves your mouth when Mrs. Seong clears her throat again. This time in warning. You take a look at her disgusted face. And then back at Jungkook.

He is looking at you expectantly. Eyes big and mouth forming a cute ‘o’. You don’t think it’s normal to offer drinks to people like this. So, you don’t think it’s normal to accept them. Yet, he has this eyes that makes it difficult to say no. So, you take it. Chuckle. Ignore the sounds Liya’s secretary is making. “Thank You Jungkook. It’s very nice of you.” Smile awkwardly. Raise the drink hesitantly. J is giving Jungkook a murderous look. “I’ll... go then. See you.” You mumble again. Are about to get into the car. And Jungkook interrupts you again for the hundredth time for these past few minutes.

“Noona wait! Do you like... want to hang out with us?” He blurts that out that all three of you including J and Mrs. Seong, echoes a ‘what?’ in unison. He grins. Why is he so random? “Well, uh… are you heading home now?” Scratches the back of his head. “Yeeeaaah….” You drag that one word hesitantly. Yet, answer before your brain can evaluate it properly and comes up with the best answer. Fuck, you gave the wrong answer. Jungkook is beaming. “Then join us. We can have fun.” Nods to himself. J grabs from his oversized black t-shirt. Hisses.

“What the fuck Jungkook? You can’t ask a fucking CEO to hang out with us like that. Woman probably has tones of works to do.” She looks at you. Then back at Jungkook. Well, you have no work, but you nod. Jungkook visibly deflates. A pout on his lips. “Who cares if she owns a business or not. If she wants to she can.” Mumbles through his pout. “You really have work Noona?” Asks again. You are about to say yes and disappear when he bridges the distance between you two. Startles you and Mrs. Seong. So do to the two men stand guard at the entrance of the building. Ridiculous, how you have to hold a hand up to stop them from coming to you.

“It’s going to be fun. And you owe me a banana milk.” Jungkook peers at your face. You open your mouth in disbelief. Did he just fucking give it to you and asks you for a new one. “You can have it back.” You hold the drink back up to him. He whines. “Oh, c’mon.”

J hisses again. “Fucking hell Jeon.” Almost succeeds dragging him away from your space. Almost though. He shrugs her off. “Isn’t it boring to work all the time?” Doesn’t give up on bugging you. The thing is it’s almost working. Hence, your partially defeated sigh. He knows he is wining. Comes up with some more funny reasons why you should go with them. In the end you give up. He has eyes you can’t say no to.

“Okay Fuck. Let’s go. Not like I’m gonna die.” You try to appear annoyed. Fail when Jungkook is grinning from one ear to other. Step away from the vehicle when Mrs. Seong stutters on her word.

“But Miss Liya... Did…didn’t... you say… what about Mr. Park.” She takes few steps with you when you start to walk away with the intruders.

“I’ll call him Mrs. Seong. Don’t worry. You can go back to work.”

You are not going to call Jimin since he will not expect that. He has works to do. No time to worry about a pretend girlfriend. Not like you really have plans. That was a lie. Besides, it’s okay to have a little fun. Jungkook and J are nice people. You like them. You chuckle excitedly. You’re buzzing with excitement. Jungkook mirrors you. J shakes her head in mock disbelief. Finally joining you to walk side by side.

………………………………..………………………..………..............

“What are you doing wandering around the city?” You slurp the last bit of Jungkook’s banana milk from the straw.

“Eh...” J responds noncommittally. That’s not really an answer. You gape at her face. “Eh?” Repeat what she said. “We are just wandering around. No purpose.” She says. Shrugs. “So, like what? You have nothing to do?” You are curious to know. Look between J and Jungkook. They walk with you in the middle. “We have, normally.” Jungkook answers in place of J. Grabs your full attention.

“What do you mean normally?” You question further.

“Well, normally means if we are at our part time jobs or classes.” J states. You are now annoyed you have to turn your head every time. Yet are happy to know they both can relate to you. Only if you could tell them. “Yeah? Then is this mean you don’t have lectures or work?” You turn to Jungkook even before he answers. Know he is the one who is going to answer your question.

“Oh, we do. We have a class.” He says casually.

“So?” You turn to J.

“We skipped.” She states and points toward a Tteokbokki stall. You gape at her when she starts to rush toward the stall. “Kookie, you want some don’t you?” Asks from Jungkook yet yanks from your hand. Dragging you to the food stall. You are shocked. Do they just happily skip lectures. Like that? Aren’t they worried? You and Key are always worried. So, you voice your concerns. “Aren’t you worried about failing?” Jungkook is the closest to you. “We manage.” He replies before taking your other hand in his. Now they both are dragging you toward the stall.

They manage?

How unfair that there are people who can manage everything. When you are struggling with everything. They seem happy. Jungkook and J. Extremely so. Makes you feel happy too. You watch as J places three orders. Old lady in the stall hustling to give you your food. The smell makes your stomach growl despite not being hungry a second ago. You’re suddenly very hungry. But then that hunger vanishes in a finger snap at J’s next words.

“You gonna pay for us? Won’t you Miss Liya. You won’t make two broken college students pay for you?” She takes the first bowl of Tteokbokki with both of her hands. Bows deeply to the old lady. Looks at you expectantly. Oh, fuck. You have no money. You refused Jimin’s money when he tried to give some to you. The plan was to head home straight after the meeting. God, this is a stupid idea. Why did you ever agree to come here. You feel your throat goes dry as you scramble for a practical excuse.

“Yah! Don’t do that. We invited her.” Jungkook bellows. You absolutely love him.

“You did! Not me. Then pay for us idiot.” J screeches at Jungkook. Click her tongue. You are starting to feel worried that she is starting to be annoyed. For real. But then Jungkook is looking unfazed.

“I will. For her. You can pay for your annoying ass.” He shoots you an affectionate glance. You feel uneasy. Very uneasy. Don’t want to be cause for a fight between two best friends. How humiliating? You can’t figure if they are fighting for real or not. You shouldn’t have come. J clicks her tongue again. Harder than before.

“Then you should write that damn essay by your own annoying ass.” States with her head held high. You look away from her when the vendor gives you another bowl. You take it with a slight bow. There’s an eerie silence. They both glaring at each other. Until Jungkook sighs. “Fuck okay.” He mumbles. Apologetically smiles at the old lady for his vulgar language. Pays for all three of you. You feel extremely bad.

“Gosh, I hate your annoying ass J, J.” He pouts so hard again, poking at his food. J laughs wickedly. “But you love me.” Is excited of the taste. You take a bite too. Very awkwardly and hesitantly. It actually tastes pretty good. That’s why you think Jungkook is really mad. He looks angry. Brows furrowed. Scowling. You open your mouth to apologize even though you have no other options when J beats you to it.

“He isn’t angry don’t worry. Just loves his food little too much.” She snorts after say that. You snap your head to Jungkook. Eyes meeting his when he peers at you from over his bowl. Does he really look angry because food is good? Apparently, he is. The smile he gives you confirms that.

……………………………………………..………………………..............

You and J stare at the soft plushies inside the UFO catcher through its hard glass. Noses nearly press against the cold material as you cheer for Jungkook. His goal is to win the blue penguin. It’s so fucking adorable that your gums ache. Jungkook is weirdly competitive, having already lost around 5000 won for nothing. He doesn’t listen to you or J. Is adamant about wining the price. He is going to pay ten times more for the plushie at this rate. Still, he doesn’t listen. Stubborn.

“To the left. Left, left, left…”

“Fuck Yeah.” You and J both roar when the claw catches the plushie for the sixth time now. You have to fight off the urge to hit his back in excitement. Jungkook lets out his own noise of triumph.

“Now ladies, I’m gonna win this fucking stupid penguin for real this time. If I don’t J, then you can call me cutie pie all you want.” He declares. Tip of his tongue poking out from between his pink lips. Eyebrows turning into a straight line at how hard he concentrates. You take a deep breath and hold it. As if you need to stay stony for him to win. J does the same. Watching intently the way claw moves upward with the blue plushie barely within it’s grasp. Jungkook very slowly moves the claw to the left.

“Slow. Take it slow.” J whispers in his right ear. He nods. Looks like he is defusing a bomb.

“A little bit more. Move it a little more.” You whisper in his left ear. He nods. Again. Beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

“NOW.... NOW.....”

The way you and J shout makes a woman next to you lose her balance. She catches herself and grimaces at you. You bow to her in apology at the same time the plushie drops into the hole at the bottom. J yells through the top of her lungs as she throws her arms around Jungkook’s neck. Grabbing him to her and nearly choking him to death in the process. He doesn’t mind dying, however. It seems. Not after he won a stupid plushie. He hugs J back in elation. You don’t mind either. Until this very moment, despite all the exciting things you’ve experienced. You tried your best to stay in the Liya’s character. Now, though at the bubbling sensation of triumph. Even though it’s Jungkook’s and is stupid, you break the character happily.

You don’t even realize that you are jumping up and down, hollering. Laughing heartily. You don’t mind at all when Jungkook lets J go and hugs you instead. Picks you up from the floor easily. Making you squeak. Squeezes the life out of you before putting you down. Takes the plushie from the prize bin. Still, grinning happily. Holds the toy to you. His eyes are back to those shiny doe, Onyxes. The eyes no body can say no to. You look at his face and then at the plushie. Dumbfounded. It takes you a moment to understand that he is giving the prize to you. Realization makes your eyes wide. You gape at his face for a second before averting your gaze to J. She is grinning yet rolls her eyes.

“Yah! Are you fucking serious Joen? You give that to her when your best friend is right next to you?” Punches his arm. Playfully. Still, it makes you shake your head furiously. With your hands waving in front of your face. “No, no, I don’t want it Jungkook. You won it. You should keep it or give it to J.” You say embarrassingly when J snorts. Jungkook does the same. “Trust me, Noona, she doesn’t want it. Just being a pain in the ass.” He assures you while pushing the plushie into your chest. “Yah!” J hits Jungkook again. Protesting being called a pain. Especially, in the ass. You are not ready to accept a gift like that. Feels wrong for some reason. Then again, Jungkook made you come here to hang out with them in the first place. That’s why you shouldn’t be surprised when he pushes the toy into your hand forcefully. And tells you to shut it rudely when you try to reason.

……………………………………………..………………………..……......

“You don’t look like a CEO.” J asks offhandedly. You are sitting on a bench under a Gingko tree. Cold air playing with your hairs. Once again, slurping on three banana milks. Jungkook sits next to you. J sits next to Jungkook. So, you have to lean forward to look at her.

“That’s fucking rude J.” Jungkook gives her an annoyed look. She dismisses it. “What? I’m curious. Just look at her. No offense Miss. Liya, but you look nothing like a business owner.” She leans forward as well. Says to your face bravely. Well, of course, you don’t look like a CEO because you are not. Hell, you probably are younger than both of them. Still in your second year at college. And you forgot to be Liya since some time ago. Character was broken.

You feel horrible for eating on Jungkook’s dime, receiving a gift and now to have this drink on him again. He insisted though. But you feel humiliated. Should have taken that money from Jimin. Well, this is your sign to find a job here.

It's fair, in the end, that J thinks you don’t look like an owner of a leading business. All you can do, however, is give pathetic excuses. “Well, I’m a human J. And I know how to keep things separated you know?” You say calmly. Smiling at her. Jungkook nods in assent. As if he knows you. “I am a business owner when I work. Now? I’m a person like you guys. A stupid human who forgot her fucking wallet.” You shamefully mumble the last part. Why do you feel like you are scamming two innocent old people. Jungkook hums disapprovingly around his straw. Takes a good gulp. Then turns to you.

“Don’t say that Noona. We invited you.” He looks pure. Makes you guilty.

“You did.” J corrects him again.

“All right! I fucking remember.” Jungkook harps on.

“I did, Noona. So, it’s okay.” He pats your back, causing you to snort. “Okay but I’ll make sure to buy you something nice soon.” You pat his thigh in return. J peers at your over Jungkook’s large frame. Pouting. “What about me then?” Gesturers to herself. Jungkook mumble something about her being undeserving of anything when she smacks his head. “Ouch you little gremlin, don’t… buy her anything Noona... Not even… Yah!” Rest of his words die on his tongue as J starts to pinch him. They start fighting like two angry cats. Leaving you with no choice but to hold onto Jungkook so he won’t accidentally break J’s neck. Or yours. Your laughter disturbs the peaceful melody of wind.

“Okay shit. Stop it now.” You grab Jungkook’s arm. Trying to control your laughter.

“Jung-”

“Oi! Spring Roll!” Your words and their silly fight all stop at the same time. All three of you turning your heads around to where the sound came. In unison. A livid and exasperated Park Jimin seeps into your view. He is scowling deep. Hands in his pant pockets.

Oh!

“Jimin?”

“Mr. Park?” All three of you exclaim again. In unison. Jimin briefly looks away. Tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Lets out a humourless chuckle. Then his eyes are back on you. Oh, they are dark. Closes the distance between you like he is the wind and stands before you tall. A beat of silence pass. Everyone keeps gaping at Jimin. But he is piercing his gaze through you. There goes your heart beating fast. There goes your mind spinning fast.

Why the fuck is he here? How does he know where you are? Is this a coincidence?

You almost start to believe he is gone mute when he leans down. Takes your hand. Your heart stops again. Breath tangles in your throat.

“Let’s go.” He says with a certain authority. You would have liked it in a different context. Inside a private space. In this context, however, it makes your beating heart calm down instantly. Your breathing turns normal. A scowl, which is similar to Jimin, plastering on your features. He can’t just barge in and tell you ‘Let’s go’. Who does he think he is?

“Baby let’s go.” Jimin mutters again. And just like that your heart is back to racing. Lungs are protesting to breath properly. He thinks he is your boyfriend. Because, you are Liya. He probably is worried about you running the things. You inhale a shaky but sneaky breath. Nod. Get to your feet before turning to Jungkook and J. Both are still gaping at Jimin. You bow to them. Grab your things with the plushie and your banana milk.

“Thanks for these Kookie.” You shake them in your hand. “Let’s hang out sometime later.” Say again and mutter a goodbye to both of them. Bowing again and they do the same after getting up. You miss the death glare a pair of eyes send toward Jungkook. So do they. All busy while waving good-byes.

“Bye Noona!”

“Bye Miss. Liya!”

…………………………………………..………………………..………......

“What the actual fuck do you think you are doing?” Jimin practically yells in your ear. At the very moment Jungkook and J are out of your sight. You wince visibly. “The fuck Jimin. Why are you yelling?” Take a step away from him. Frowning. Jimin opens his mouth to say something. Then decides against it and takes you in for a moment. Takes in your expression which is torn between annoyance and fear. Blows a breath out. Groans. Mumbles an apology. You’re still frowning, however. And pouting.

“Hey Lil, I’m sorry.” He apologizes again as he takes a step toward you. You take a step back.

“Fuck, Lil, I didn’t mean to yell. But you can’t just ditch your secretary and go off with random passersby.” This time he doesn’t take any steps. So, you stand your ground. “They are not some random people. You know them.” You point it out. Watch carefully to see if he remembers. He has a poker face on. “Oh, c’mon that’s J and Jungkook. We met them at the club. Hoseok knows them.” You tries again.

“I don’t care who they are Lil. Hoseok knows them, not you. Not me. You can’t just walk away with fucking strangers…” Jimin hisses through his gritted teeth. Takes a deep breath in. Places his hands in his hips. “And how the fuck you know them just because you met them at a club? You met them this one-time Lil, and you think you know them? How old are you to act like a toddler who gets lured by a candy?” His eyes land on your drink and gift. Gives you the urge to hide them behind you. You badly want to argue. That’s how people meet new people. There’s a first time for everything. Everyone is a stranger once, just like Jimin and you were. Still, you think he has a valid point. Makes sense to say that you don’t know them. It is reckless.

So, you sigh in defeat. Speaks with defiance. “All right, I got it okay?” Just don’t want to accept he is right. “But I’m not a fucking kid Jimin. I know what I’m doing. I’m an adult who can manage herself very fucking well. And fully capable of making my own decisions. And… and… they are good. I had a great fucking day.” Your actions speak the opposite of your words. Especially, when you stomp your foot on the turf. Hug your blue penguin. Jimin huffs at that. “And is very irresponsible.” Mutters.

You click your tongue. Need to turn the winning hand of this argument towards you. “Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. So, tell me Park, did you just run here looking for me? How did you even know where I am?” You feel this satisfactory bubble in your tummy to see Jimin’s annoyance instantly replaces with something akin to embarrassment. “Huh?” You push him more.

“Run here? Looking for you? What do you think? That I have nothing to do? That I have time to run after your stupid ass?” He scoffs while tilting his head to the side. “I was just passing by and saw you.” Says. Looks away from you. Then again, even when you don’t know him, you can read him well. You know he is lying. It’s very scary how you know it. No time to be scared, however. There’s a battle you’re winning. You quirk your brow. “Oh, like that? What a coincidence Park. And then you abandon your work to come here and drag my stupid ass away? How considerate of you.” You say wryly. “Were you driving through this park?” Add that question to your list. Take a good look around. “Where’s your car?” You know you’re winning.

It's very obvious that there’s no way he could just spot you while passing by. Didn’t he tell something about ditching the secretary? He needs better preparations if he plan to tell blatant lies. You keep staring at his face. With a quirky eyebrow. You can taste the win now.

And you do win when Jimin sighs heavily. “Okay, fuck, Seong called me.” Admits it finally. Shifts his eyes to yours again. Looks ashamed. Recovers quickly, however. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be worried when she told me some two passersby dragged you away. And they looked like straight out from hell.” Takes the winning side to him again. You open your mouth in annoyance. “Don’t say that. Jungkook is fucking hot. So is J-” Don’t get to finish that line when he chuckles.

“Yeah whatever.” Mutters and turns around. Starts to walk away while you stand there stupidly. Oh, the nerve of him to be like that. You catch up to him with quick steps. “So, you did run looking for me Park. Why? How did you find me?” Your trails of inquiries makes him stop. He drops his head low. Closes his eyes shut and opens them again. “I was just, worried...” His voice finally changes to soft.

“You are supposed to be Liya Lil. Don’t you think it is weird for someone so busy like her to just run away with two kids? And you had Seong cancel a very important lunch because you and I have plans, and then you toss them away and go with a random man? How does that might seem to people?” He is making sense again. You hate it when he makes sense. And there’s part of you, feel that twisted ache to know he was worried about your pretense ruining. Not about you. Just like you thought. You guessed that might be the reason, yes. Yet it doesn’t hurt any less. “And you didn’t even bother to give me a fucking call?” Asks again at your silence. You force yourself to push that ache away.

“Sorry I was irresponsible. But I already told you I’m not gonna use Liya’s phone for anything else than calling the driver.” You did say that when he gave you the phone. A good thing since it aids you in winning. You don’t want to win anymore though.

“Why are you so stubborn? Then you should have answered my calls.” Jimin turns completely to face you.

He called you?

“I put the phone on silent. Sorry.” You mumble. This time it’s you who walks away, leaving him to stand there stupidly.

………………………………..…………………………..………………......

You look around the high-end store filled with various electronic devices. The shop is in the same mall you once visited with Taehyung and his poor girlfriend. You and Jimin stepped onto friendly ground back again, while you were on your way. It was him doing most of the talking until you cracked up to one of his silly jokes, however. Still, you are not that friendly. There’s a residue of an unpleasant argument lingering between you. A residue that can easily ignite the fire again in any moment. That’s why you wish he had brought you home instead of here.

A boy in a white cap, who had disappeared somewhere inside the store, emerges in front of you again. A white box in his hand. He hands that box to Jimin over the counter with a pleasant smile on his lips. Jimin takes it. You look at the huge QS printed on the box lid. Nobody has to be a genius to know that it’s a phone. And definitely you don’t have to be a prophet to see what he is about to do.

“Why do you need a phone?” You very suspiciously and annoyingly lean toward his ear. At the same time, he unboxes the box and a sleek mobile comes to your sight. Jimin ignores you completely. Instead, talks with the cute boy in the white cap like you don’t exist. So, you wait patiently until the boy fumbles with the phone. Setting it up. And finally, slip the phone toward you this time. You’re not surprised at all. You knew Jimin was doing this all along. From the very moment you enter this shop. Stayed silent because you didn’t want to jump into conclusions. And make a fool out of yourself. That doesn’t mean; however, that you’re not allowed to fume with sudden rage.

You push the phone back toward the boy before you turn to Jimin. “You’re not buying me a damn phone Park. I don’t want it. I’ll buy my own after I find a job.” You state as sternly as you could. Jimin gives you a very unimpressed glance.

“What job?” Asks cockily.

“The job I’ll find soon.”

“Well, pay me back when you find that job then.” Says causally. Pulls his wallet out. “She is buying that.” This time says to the boy. It’s a very sudden reaction how you grab on to Jimin’s hand quickly. “No, I am not. I’ll buy my own. I mean it.” Hiss through your teeth. Trying so bad not to cause a seen here.

Jimin’s unimpressed look changes into a pissed off one. “Jesus Lil. Why do you always have to be so fucking stubborn? Just take it and pay me back.” He shrugs his hand free from your vice grip. Takes that same golden card out. Pushes it to the boy, who looks like he is currently watching a cringy comedy movie. The last of your concerns right now though. So, you nudge Jimin out of the way. “No, don’t make the payment. I’m not buying it.” Say to the boy. Practically leaning toward him over the counter. Ready to snatch the card away. “She fucking is.” Jimin grunts that out. Behind you. Just before his hands slips around your chest. Under your breasts and around your rib cage. And lifts you up like you weigh nothing. A yelp escapes your mouth as he turns you away from the counter.

Did he fucking lift you up like that?

You go through a split second of shock. Mouth agape and eyes wide. Only for a half second though. When that half second passes you are seeing red. “What the fucking hell Park Jimin. Put me the fuck down.” You are hissing like an angry old cat.

“Stop being stubborn like a goat then.” Jimin hisses. His grip tightening.

You can fight his grip. Of course, you can. At least try to do so. The thing is you can see two women gaping at you with disgust, from your reddened peripherals. It’s shameless to act this way in public. You think it’ll be worse for Jimin. So, you just take a deep breath in. Ask him to put you down again, in a much calmer voice. He relents. Keeps his hands around you anyway. You give up.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Park.” Mutter under your breath. Yet you know he heard that.

He chuckles.

…………………………………………………………..……………...........

The sky was already dark when you exited the lavish shopping mall. Not uncommon to face sudden rainfall during the last month of the year. At least not uncommon in your world. You guess it applies in this world as well. That’s how you find yourself, sitting on a bench in front of a convenience store. Savoring an ice cream bar. Staring into the water drops kissing the earth graciously. Your anger evaporates due to the coldness in your tongue. Blending with the cold rain drops. And washing away. You feel calm now. Much calmer than before Jimin bribed you with the idea of sweet treats. How weird that he knows how to handle your moods. Is it because of Liya?

It's not that you’re completely on good terms with him now. Still, it feels relaxing to be here. With Jimin’s warmth next to you. The warmth that fight against the coldness of your ice cream and winter air. And rain. The warmth that is enough to melt you down. The warmth that is like an invitation to lean against him. You don’t. Think it’ll be too much. Him just sitting next to you is enough. As weird as it sounds. You like this feeling. Like the way cold breaths swirls inside your lungs. Like the smell of the rain. It’s better when you can smell Jimin’s earthy cologne. What a combination. Jimin and rain. You like the way his knee is touching yours. Like the small electrocutions it sends through your body. You like being next to him. How scary?

You take a look at him. Apparently, he didn’t want any ice cream. But it’s very odd and wrong to eat by yourself.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?”

“Why are you taking that stupid toy with you everywhere?”

You both ask at the same time. Fall into silence. His eyes land on your ice cream, which you’re holding in front of his mouth. Yours land on the blue plushie, which is clutched by your other hand. You are about to answer that when Jimin takes a bite from the ice cream. Makes you grin. Puts you in a good mood. You take your hand and the ice cream back. Inspect the plushie.

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Show it to him.

“Cute my foot.” Jimin looks away. Your good mood sours. Grin disappears. “Yah! Don’t be fucking mean. It’s cute. Besides, it’s a gift.” You clutch the plushie tight again. Jimin doesn’t look at you. “From who? Jungkook?” Asks in a very passive-aggressive tone. You hum in reply to that question. So, he looks at you. Scoffs. “It’s fine when he buys you something but it’s not when I do?” Gestures to his chest with his finger.

“Oh, c’mon. We both know that’s not the same. This is a fucking… I mean a fucking adorable plushie. Not an expensive phone.” You hold the toy higher. Brandishes it.

“So what? You want me to buy you a toy?” Jimin’s expression morphs into something aggressively endearing.

“No… I don’t… Let’s not talk about you buying me things, Jimin.” You ignore the way Jimin is at wit’s end. “He didn’t buy me this. He won me this.” Say before going back to taste your ice cream. Jimin snaps his head toward you at that.

“Oh yeah? Like it must have been fucking hard.”

“Of course, it’s hard. You know these claw machine shits are rigged right? So, it’s hard to get a price.” You don’t know why you are defending Jungkook. Maybe, you’re enjoying the adorable bewilderment in Jimin’s face. A little too much. Like always.

“I can win something for you too then.” Jimin blurts that out. It’s you who snap your head to him now. His wide eyes tell you that he didn’t mean to say that aloud. It’s out in the air anyway now. Not that he can turn the time around. You gape at him in pure disbelief for a minute.

Why on the earth does he wants to win something for you? Is he jealous? Can’t be. Probably Jungkook is pinching his man ego. Yeah, that must be it. You’re certain. Hence, your loud snort and the head shake. Just because you find it hilarious that Jimin is getting riled up and competitive with a man who he doesn’t even know properly. Jimin, on the other hand, gasps loudly at your reaction. Apparently, reads you wrong.

“What? You think I can’t?”

“No, I didn’t say that, Park.” You give him a horrified look. Your playful mood vanishing to the cold air.

“You don’t need to use words all the time Lil.” He mutters irritated. That makes you feel really bad. Wasn’t your intention to belittle him at all. Are about to explain when he stops you. “Don’t say a word. C’mon we are going, and I’ll show you what I can.” He is already in his feet. Your horrified and saddened expression turns into a judgmental one. Is he serious? He calls you a toddler then acts like this. His irritation spreads to you.

“Are you serious Jimin? Can’t you see it’s fucking raining?” You point out the obvious. Don’t make an effort to stand up. He says nothing but gapes at you. Pushes you to snap. He annoys you to no end. But in a good way.

You don’t want him to do anything to be honest. It’s just he is getting on your nerves by acting childishly. Maybe, you match his energy just fine. You both are childish.

“Okay, fine. You’re fucking ridiculous.” You stand up. Go closer to him. Brain searching for a good idea to challenge him. That’s when your eyes lands on the plum tree behind him. A winter-blooming plum tree. There’s not many blooms. Just one. Out of reach of the hand. Will need little more than jumping to pluck it.

There you go!

A wicked grin breaks out on your face. See, childish. Point your finger toward it. Jimin turns around to see what you’re gesturing at. There’s no need to use words all the time. Indeed. He knows what you’re asking for. Gives you a bewildered look again. “You want me to fuckin pick a plum bloom for you? How’s that similar to winning anything?” Pulls his brows together. Squints his eyes to assess the tree.

“Well, it’s too high. You think you can pick it? That’s the challenge Park. The flower is the price.” You explain smugly.

It's weirdly stupid. Your challenge. Yet is better than watching Jimin lose his entire wealth on a claw machine. Just because some random kid hurt his ego. How pathetic. He sighs heavily. Takes his time and just when you are about thinking he just got his brain power back, he disappoints you.

“Fine, stay here.” Now his look is torn between stubbornness and reluctance. You watch him carefully when he shed his jacket off. Loosens the buttons of the dress shirt. Rolls the sleeves up. You two can be a dangerous duo together, can’t you? Is he really going to get drenched just because of a stupid challenge? Maybe you should cut him some slack. Convince him not to get drenched in the rain. Don’t want him to suffer after all.

He has already stepped into the rain, however. Stubborn. Childish. Adorable. Impish. The cold rain drops start kissing his figure graciously now. Slowly but surely soaking his warm body in coldness. He bridges the distance between the store and the tree in just five steps. Stands under the tree. Turns to look at you. His soft hair staring to fall into his face under the stream of rain. His white shirt becoming see through.

Fuck isn’t he beautiful.

There comes that tug at your heart. A painful tug. You blame it on the guilt of letting him go into the rain. That is the only thing. There’s no longing at all. No there’s none. Still, the tug is too powerful to ignore. You can’t ignore it. Makes you tremble. Makes your heart shatter. Again, in a bittersweet manner.

You find yourself being bewitched by a certain blonde man under a plum tree. He is utterly bewitching. Enchanting when he stands there in the rain. You shed your own jacket and place all your belongings on the bench. Next to Jimin’s jacket. Willingly, follow Jimin’s steps. Let the rain drops freeze your bones. Walk toward him. Never leaving his gaze. As if his eyes are the compass. Don’t take your eyes away until you’re in front of him. Can feel his warmth again. Oh, you missed that. Even for few seconds. You missed him. Turn your head up. Look at the bloom.

“Why are you here?” Jimin mumbles softly. “It’s my challenge.” Adds that too. You smile.

“It’s okay to ask for help sometime, remember? A win is a win, Park. Hoist me up. I’ll pick it, this is teamwork. Friends helping each other. What kind of a friend am I, if I don’t help you?” Takes your eyes away from the bloom. Stare into his soft brown orbs when you say it. Yes. You’re here because you’re friends. You should say the word more. That way you’ll get used to it sooner. The ache will go away soon.

Jimin just stares back into your eyes. You think you can see the stormy clouds in his eyes. Gloomy. Raise questions but he doesn’t let you ask them. “But that’s cheating.” Comes closer to you. You have to battle the urge to close your eyes at the sensation of his hot breath in your face. Battle the urge to look at his plump lips. You can feel your head start to buzz in an addictive way.

“No... It’s not.” You match his soft mumble.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Just let me help you. Hm?” Why are you whispering? You honestly don’t know how to answer his question. Or what he meant by the question. So, you allow yourself to get lost in his enchanting gaze.

Until, he distracts you by nodding. And then bending down to grab you from your hips. Lifts you up without a word. For a second time this day. Higher this time, however. Higher and higher. You stretch your hand to touch the flower. Request him to hold you little bit more high. It is a bit of a struggle. A struggle that needs to bite your bottom lip and merge your brows. In the end, still, you pluck the bloom with your fingertips. Triumphal noises leaving you.

“Got it.” You shout. Excited. Flower secure in your hand. Look down to find Jimin looking up at you. Amused glint in his eyes. Amused grin on his lips. Where are those gloomy clouds? Why do his eyes shine like that? He doesn’t put you down until you ask. But when he does, you think you shouldn’t have asked. Every minute you spend in this world, probably, is becoming the destruction of your sanity. Why do you crave his presence so much? His touches so much? Even when they are just innocent. It’s so damn hard to tear your gaze away from his glinting eyes. From his stretched lips. You do. Somehow. Hold the bloom for him. He takes it. Rolls the stem in his fingers. Now stretches his lips into a full grin. And you find yourself bewitched again. Unable to look anywhere but him. Unable to contain your own grin. So, you grin when he does. Chuckle when he does. Laugh when he does.

There’s nothing funny to laugh about. The thing is you feel content enough to laugh. Guess he feels the same. This is not normal, is it? Well, you don’t care about normalcy. Not when Jimin gives the flower back to you. Holds it out to you.

“You won that.” You never thought you could speak that softly.

“It’s a gift Spring Roll.” He places the flower behind your ear. Steals your breath away. Makes you want to cry for no reason.

Why?

Why would you cry over a stupid gift. See, it’s a stupid gift but you already know you’re going to preserve it for so long. So, so, long.

…………………………………..…………………………..………………

Jimin walks silently behind you. Just a few steps away from you. Hands in his pockets. He and you both are drenched to the core now. Initial plan was to wait until the rain eased. But your challenge changes it. Hence, your decision to walk back to the car in the rain. Jimin can’t believe he was so adamant about winning you something. Wasn’t that immature of him. It is and he knows it. He knew it. Simply was too annoyed to think things through. Or jealous.

No. Nope.

He wasn’t jealous at all. Why would he be jealous for you? Ridiculous. Nah, it was something else definitely. And he doesn’t wish to find out. It’s all fine this way. Just like it’s fine till he never tell you that he knew it was Jungkook who took you away all along. A man with muscles, tats and piercings is engraved in his mind. Fine till you never know that it wasn’t simply because he was worried that he ran looking for you. Will never tell you about the unpleasant twists in his guts he felt. About how restless he had been since the moment Liya’s secretary contacted him. You’ll never know how badly he wanted to reshape Jungkook’s sharp features when you called him ‘Kookie’.

Kookie?

You barely know the man and already call him by a nickname. And then you call Jimin, ‘Park’? Don’t you know him better than Jungkook. Oh, how he wants to punch something when that comes to his mind. He takes a deep breath in. Allowing the cold air to soothe the rage which started to bubble up inside him again.

Well, whatever happened, you’re here now aren’t you. That’s a good thing. He is the one who walks behind you. Eyes gracing over your every curve. Devouring you with his eyes. This is good and bad at the same time. He shouldn’t ogle at your figure like this. Especially, not with the thoughts whirling inside his head.

Then, how can he not? How can he look away from the way that blue skirt hugs your ass like a second skin. It’s drench material clings to your curves. It’s impossible to look away. The way your hips sway when you walk.

How fucking beautiful you are.

How fucking hot, you are. Hot in a criminal way. God, he wants to grab your ass. Knead the plump flesh in his hands. Maybe, spank. Will you like that? Will you drip down if he does that? Or to make you straddle him, and then grind on his hard dick. He wants to mold your ass cheeks when you do so. Control your movements. Have you pliant and whiney. Wants to hear his name chants through your mouth desperately. He can’t tear his gaze away now. It’s plastered into your drenched figure. His brain is malfunctioning. All the blood rushing down to his dick. Making him hard painfully.

Shit, what’s wrong with him?

The thing is, he just knows how your soft skin feels. Knows how it feels to press his hard onto your ass. Has done that before. So, it’s not possible, not to think about it. He badly wants to do it again. Grind against you. Press his hard body against your soft one. Smell your sweet scent. Fuck his dick throbs when he thinks about how you ground back on him.

Fuck, fuck this is where he should stop.

Jimin closes his eyes shut. Begging his improper sinful thoughts to go away. When he opens them back again, it slightly makes him jump to see you looking at him. With furrowed brows and pouting. Eyes narrowed. Fuck, now he doesn’t know what is worse. Is it that he wants to grind his dick against your ass. Or is it that he wants to kiss that pout away from your lips.

Holy shit! He wants to kiss you.

That urge is almost uncontrollable. Uncontrollable, when he finds you to be angelic with your stray wet hair strands framing your face. He likes how drops of water run down your beautiful features. How they gather on the tip of your nose and then fall down. It’s ethereal the way how rain kiss your lips. Unfair. He should be the one to do that. To taste it.

“What are you doing, Park? You’re not staring at my ass, are you?” You turn around. Break Jimin’s beautiful day dreams. Start walking backward. Facing him. He is grateful for the rain that you’ll not see the flush in his face. You have the flower in your hand now. Everything’s drenched. Is so glad that plushie is drenched, however.

“As if you have one to look at.” He retorts. Finding his voice hoarse. He blame it on the rain. That makes you scowl at him. And flip him off. Makes him chuckle. “Look at the road while you’re walking lady.” It isn’t that he simply worried about you tripping over something. Part of him is worried now he can see your plump lips and breasts. Good thing your sweater isn’t see through. He will definitely cross the line again. Isn’t he like a horny teenager? You should put back your coat on. Just for the sake of his sanity. You don’t. Just talk back. Say something about having a perfectly pretty ass before you turn around. He can’t argue on that. It’s pretty. Your ass. You’re pretty. Pretty it hurts. He sighs softly. Needs to stop this. You’re friends now. He has a girlfriend.

He can’t mess things up again.

He can see the car in the near distance now. You’ll reach it in probable twenty steps. There was something in his mind he wanted to ask from you all throughout the day. Couldn’t do it because of Liya’s meeting. Still, he needs to ask you to join the party. Convince you to come if you refuse. This isn’t a good time though. He calls your name anyway. Makes you turn around and stop again.

“What?” You inquire.

Jimin grabs the back of his neck with both of his hands. Watches how you carefully and suspiciously rakes your eyes on him. See, no need to use words at all. You know he is about to pull the friends card again.

“Fuck no Jimin.” You groan. Even before he opens his mouth. Nearly turn around when he grabs from your wrist.

“Oh, c’mon Spring Roll. What kind of friends are we if we don’t help each other.” Whines, ignoring your burning glare. Uses your own words against you. “Okay, if you do this me favor. I’ll help you land a job here.” Bribing you always work. Doesn’t know where that came from.

“I don’t want a job through nepotism.”

“Who said anything about nepotism. I’ll just help you to find a one. Like a good friend.” Bargains. Sees the way your mind whirls around through your eyes. “Please Lil?” One more push and you accept the defeat. Sighing heavily. Pouting. Fuck, he wants to press his lips into that pout. Wans to make you lose your breath. Taste you. Make you moan into his mouth.

“Fucking opportunistic. What is it?” You frees your hand away from his grip. Give him a moment to pull himself together. It’s not like you freed your hand. It’s he allowed you to do that. Jimin pushes himself to give you an answer. To stay focused.

“Well, you know Hoseok is throwing this new year party and-” He starts finally. Only to get disrupts by your annoyance laced honey voice.

“Jimin….”

Despite your loud and angry screech, he finds himself laughing. You’ll come. He knows that.

………………………..…………………………..…………………………..

You stare into your new phone and the plum blossom next to it. Placed on your rusty coffee table in front of your old couch. You made sure you bring them with you to your world. And were very careful not to crush the petals in your sleep. Are glad you didn’t. You pick the bloom up. Smell it. Even now, your heart is picking up the speed. You recall how Jimin looked at you under the plum tree. Standing in the rain. The glint in his eyes. His breaths. Touches.

This is so wrong. You may not do physical touches anymore. Yet it is still wrong to find your heart swoon at the sight of him. To feel so warm with him.

You sigh. Put the flower back. Maybe you should throw it away. Can you? Fuck, you can’t. It’s precious. Too precious. In the end, it’s a memory. Memory to preserve. Good or bad. Moral or immoral. It’s still precious to throw away. Like the memory of Park Jimin. Like every small moment you spent together. And the ones you’ll spend in the future. Like this party he made you agree to go.

Memories are not that easy to toss in a garbage can. Gosh, how will you ever be able to throw the memories away with Park Jimin? When this thing ends? How will you do that? The pathway you’re walking is not going to lead you to a pretty place. It’s better if you can throw the memories away from the beginning. So, it’ll be easy in the end. So, it will not hurt.

You pick the flower again.

Throw it away. No beautiful memories to preserve. No memories to hurt you in the end.

But it’s a beautiful one. It’s the memory of Jimin under the rain. It’s the beautiful memory of feeling him walking behind you. Slowly. It’s the memory of his glinting eyes and sinful smile. Park Jimin isn’t just a memory. He is a beautiful memory. A beautiful memory you can’t throw away. It hurts more to throw it away.

You get up from the couch. You can’t throw it away. Even though it’ll hurt you to look at it one day. If that’s the price, you’ll pay it. You place the bloom inside a little jewelry box. The flower will wilt away. But your memories will not. They will hurt you, but it’ll never wilt away. Will never turn ugly. Will reamin painfully beautiful.

Park Jimin will never turn ugly in your memories. He will forever remain beautiful. As a memory to preserve.

A beautiful memory.

Chapter Index

…………………………..…………………………..………………………

Taglist - @chimmy-licious @smoljimjim @graydolan12 @sugas-baby-girl @likemeforme

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d0youc0py · 1 year

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“What about her?”

“Her name is Terrie. She’s 43 years old. Two kids- one boy, one girl. She is recently divorce, you can tell by the swing of her hips. She has a medium sized dog, probably named Tucker or something. She has five different shirts that say ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had coffee.’ She drives a totally oversized SUV, but can parallel park like a bad bitch.” Finishing your analysis you leaned back and took a sip of your tea. John hummed, seemingly agreeing with you. “What about him.” You whispered. John followed your gaze.

“His name is definitely Mark. No kids. Calls his shitty flat his ‘bachelor pad’.” You snickered softly. “I would say late thirties. All of his buddies have stopped inviting him places because he makes their wives uncomfortable. He loves a good wine cooler and he thinks ‘Back to the Future’ is still the greatest film ever made.” You nodded your head in agreement.

“Are we mean.” You asked suddenly. John looked over at you with a small smile. He wrapped his arm around your chair and tugged you closer to his side. You welcomed his advancements and snuggled your head into his side.

“Sweetheart, we judge people we don’t even know just based off of their appearance.” John kissed the top of your head. “We are most definitely mean.” He whispered, leaning down giving you a fat peck on the cheek. You pushed him away and wiped your cheek playfully.

“Gross.” You spat. John wasn’t having it and pulled you right back to where you were- where you belonged.

“You really want to play that game with me sweetheart?” He whispered against your temple.

“I’m a good sport.” You whispered back. He grumbled softly and pressed another hard kiss against your temple. “What do you think people would think about us.”

“Well.” John started. You felt him smile against your skin. “They’d probably wonder what I do for a living to get such a hot little partner such as yourself.” You flushed. “They’d probably assume we’ve only be together a short while since we are so obviously smitten.” You and John had been together for nine years. “Then they’d probably take a guess as to how many bite marks you have on your thighs sweetheart.” All the air seemed to escape your lungs.

“I’m sure they would then guess how long it takes to get from this little coffee shop all the way back to our flat.” You murmured, playing along with his little game.

“We should go test it, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Thank you for all the support I’ve gotten on my last post! Reminder if you have any requests my inbox is always open! 💚

#captian price #captain john price #John price #price #captain price x y/n #captain price x reader #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral #cod #cod captain price #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod men #doyoucopy #d0youc0py

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triptychgrip · 4 months

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Viktor's potential insecurity in the aftermath of Yuuri's poster reveal

As much as I absolutely adore YOI, one thing I would have killed for the creators to show us is the long-term aftermath of the moment (or perhaps, series of moments) where Viktor grasps just how big a fan Yuuri is. And not only even for humor reasons (i.e."Wow, Yuuri! Not even my publicist is able to get their hands on that poster, but you have four different copies!), but also because, depending on when it occurs, the discovery might pose a sort of crisis for Viktor.

Because as confident as he is with regards to the ice, as he and Yuuri begin to spend more and more time together outside of training, I imagine he might find himself confronting a pretty important question: what does he have to offer in terms of personality, and in general besides his skating talent, or the association that comes from his reputation (and, by extension, the longevity of his career)?

While the beach scene is hugely important for the progression of their relationship, you could argue that it's a beginning: when Yuuri tells him that he wants Viktor to be himself, it's from a place of saying "you don't have to pretend, show me who you really are", so Viktor may feel that while Yuuri truly wants to see his full personality, it doesn't necessarily mean he will be accepting of it.

To be clear: I think that Viktor can grasp that Yuuri accepts him for his flaws -- after all, it's pretty apparent that he forgives him when he royally screws up at the Cup of China in that damned parking garage. But accepting someone's flaws and being able to celebrate their positive traits are two different things, even when they are opposite sides of the same coin.

Speaking of the Cup of China (which, don't get me wrong, has me completely in my feels every time I watch that episode), while it's extremely powerful when they both express their feelings for one another via skating, sometimes actual words are needed when it comes to assuaging our insecurities. At some point (and when would this have occurred? I wish we could have seen!) Viktor probably needs concretization around the things that Yuuri perceives about him, good and bad.

Back to the poster reveal. Once Viktor realizes the extent of Yuuri's fanboying, part of me wonders if his thoughts might take a turn in the vein of "What if Yuuri thinks my career is the most interesting thing about me? And "What if the other parts of me aren't palatable enough outside of that?"

When they have the inevitable "come to Jesus" conversation(s) whereby Yuuri tries to articulate that he sees Viktor as more than just an idol on a pedestal, how might Viktor react, and would he be able to take Yuuri's words at face-value? Similarly to Yuuri's journey of realizing that he is more than worthy in Viktor's eyes, I think Viktor goes on a parallel one, and those moments of reassurance are something I really love ideating around.

I think this is part of why I get so much comfort out of writing post-canon/established Viktuuri, particularly in my married Viktuuri Olympic Games series: it gives me a bit more freedom to "move" and portray some of the security they've developed with time (and allows me to imagine some scenarios where Yuuri is able to verbally demonstrate how much he values Viktor in a way that is unrelated to the ice)

#yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #yuri on ice headcanons #viktuuri #victuuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikiforov #insecure viktor nikiforov

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jiminrings · 11 months

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478: drabble

jungkook and hwayoung’s bad day :( aka the last drabble for phase two

[ 478 masterlist ]

Jungkook knows to himself that he’s not a born cheerleader.

In fact, even before his whole transformation (courtesy of The Incident that he isn’t fond of digging up and Hwayoung being brought into the world), Jungkook tended to be grumpy. His patience didn’t always run thin yet its brink was always close enough to the edge.

If anything, being a dad awakened instincts in him that he didn’t even know he possessed. Apparently, he has a sixth sense for when Hwayoung plans on crawling without her pajamas on even when he’s all the way in the kitchen, or a tingle in his spine whenever she’s about to cry even before she knows it.

Jungkook is proud of himself, really, but not too proud that it took life-changing circumstances for him to even get his act together. He’s improving day by day and he swears he’s trying his best in everything, even if he gets shell-shocked most of the time. The both of you were born at a time when the colors of toys didn’t matter that much and the insistence for blending everything solid wasn’t as stressed.

He takes new experiences under his belt with stride, even if he can’t figure out half of the time if Hwayoung would recognize it if he just “slacked” — a term that so many people, even fellow parents, used for those who didn’t have the same time and resources. Jungkook does have an abundance of both and as much as he swears that he doesn’t have any real reason to complain in life, he wonders if Hwayoung would even notice.

He wonders if his daughter would notice if he switched out his freshly-pureed blueberries for the store-bought version, or if she’d even mind if he switched out Bluey (it’s a really good show, even for adults, and it actually made him cry before) for something that played a little longer.

Jungkook’s trying, he really is, but for the love of everything, your husband can’t figure out what he did wrong.

Hwayoung’s crying and he doesn’t even know why. She’s irritable and she’s fussy and she’s bawling and it’s overwhelming him to no end, the triple-checking he’s done coming up with nothing every single time.

He already took her temperature and Hwayoung’s perfectly healthy. He checked her socks, her diaper, and even changed everything but without missing a single beat, his daughter keeps crying.

He called her pediatrician (who even had to tell him to hang up because she’s already explained countless of times that Hwayoung is just being herself; read: a baby), and even put Miso in front of her (because she’s already a skilled babysitter) but even then, she only seemed to cry more. No matter how much Miso bumps her head against her chunky thigh, her little master paid her no attention.

“Hwayoung, please stop,” Jungkook pleads, sucking in a breath as he cradles her. She doesn’t want to be carried but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be put down. “What, what? Tell me what’s wrong,” he coos exhaustedly, waiting for her to magically enunciate her words like an adult despite being unable to.

Jungkook feels helpless. He feels like he’s doing parallel parking in the narrowest street in the world, with the two largest cars of all time in either side of him, while a whole city watches him.

“Oh my god, I can’t think straight if you keep shrieking like that,” he whines, cursing himself and his parental compass of buying no pacifiers at all because he’s heard far too many times that they’re detrimental for development. He lists things in his head just to try and to keep himself sane, but it only irritates her more. “Bottle? Diaper? Toys?”

“Hwayoung, I don’t know what to do with you!” Jungkook finally cries in frustration, his outburst momentarily overtaking his daughter’s that it makes her stop crying altogether — briefly. When Hwayoung does realize that Jungkook’s stooped down to her level, she gathers her strength to resume crying. “For the love of god, please just stop-…”

“Jungkook?” you look for him the moment you walk through the front door, the familiarity of your voice finally giving him clarity. “What’s wrong?”

Your husband sighs in relief, practically blubbering as he walks to meed you in the middle. “She won’t stop crying,” he details, about to rant endlessly before his voice fades out. “I’ve tried… everything.”

Magically, Hwayoung’s no longer crying. She’s perfectly calm and still, already laughing in your embrace.

“Oh,” he mutters both in defeat and relief, shoulders dropping down. “She just needs you.”

There’s a knot building in Jungkook’s throat and he doesn’t know why. He feels relieved, of course, but he feels like an utter loser underneath it all.

“What are you doing home?” he asks, clearing his throat as his headache finally simmers down.

“It’s the director’s birthday. We only shot one scene and he gave us the rest of the day off as a treat.”

“That’s nice.”

“You okay, Kook?” you ask hesitantly, already aware of his mood even before his brief replies.

“I’m okay,” he nods, running a hand through his hair. “Just… stressed.”

“Kook, I’m sorry. I know it’s hard but I-…” you clear your throat, trying to find the correct words even if you’re just as conflicted he is. “Hwayoung’s a child. A baby. She doesn’t know any better.”

“I know, I know. I-I’m sorry. I just got so stressed because she wouldn’t stop crying, a-and it turns out that all she needs is you. Not her bottle, not a new diaper, not appa, nothing,” Jungkook sighs heavily. He’s said the truth already; already gave you a glimpse at how jumbled he feels, yet his chest still doesn’t feel light. “Just you.”

There’s a silence that envelopes the three of you, one that’s only filled with your daughter cooing and making up her own words.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Jungkook leans down sincerely to kiss Hwayoung’s forehead, giving you the opportunity to press one on his own.

Your daughter’s still content in your arms so Jungkook doesn’t feel the need to pick her up, but what he does is bring out his finger for her to hold, and he audibly sighs in relief when she takes it.

“It’s just a bad day, right?” he looks up at you for assurance, hugging you from behind whilst occupying Hwayoung.

You agree somberly.

“It’s just a bad day, baby.”

Oh Brother is it really jus a bad day for jungkook n hwayoung ORRRRR is it the build-up for one of the inconveniences in phase 3 (aka sneak peek 01) ??? but even with the bad days aside, is it rlly just oc n jungkook n hwayoung (aka sneak peek 02) ??? anyway 😁😁😁 i can't wait for u to read phase three!!! can't wait either? get early access on my patreon :D

#478 drabbles #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Wasted 11

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

Throughout the night, you find yourself thinking of Bucky. Not in any meaningful way, merely wondering how someone as nice as the man beside you came to be friends with a pill-pushing brute like him. Steve is too sweet to believe and you know better than to buy anything at face-value but you’ve yet to find a crack in the veneer.

As he asks for the check, you pull your purse into your lap. He peers over, “oh, don’t… I got it.”

“Really, it’s nice of you to offer,” you try to factor out the chunk from your cut for the night. “I don’t mind going half–”

“My mother would pale if I didn’t insist,” he reaches over to clasp his hand over your purse before you can pop open the flap. It’s the boldest move he’s mad all night. You relent, he doesn’t have to twist your arm, your bills are already doing most of that. “I had a really good night, it’s worth it.”

You smile. A real smile. You can’t lie and say you didn’t.

“I did too,” you say, “thank you, Steve.”

He blushes and turns to watch the server as she approaches again. He fumbles around his jacket and takes out his wallet. His hands are shaking. You’d finally calmed his nerves but they just as quickly bubble up. Bucky is less than an honest man but you suspect he didn’t lie about everything.

But what did he tell Steve? Is this a date? Or are you a hired escort? That makes your chest twinge. You’ve never been overly sentimental, you’ve had your share of one night stands, but you don’t want this to be like those.

As Steve folds up his wallet and thanks the server, you brush his arm with your knuckles, “hey, do you wanna walk through the park? Elizabeth Square is near here, I’ve never been to see the fountain.”

He turns to you with wide eyes, “really?”

“Sure, why not? Unless… I’m keeping you.”

He shakes his head and a broad grin spreads across his pointed features, “I’d love that.”

You nod and gather up your purse. You stand and pull on your jacket as Steve rises on the other side of the table and smooths his jacket. His pants are a little too long but he looks nice. You can tell he put a lot of thought into tonight.

He gestures you ahead of him, “ladies first.”

You accept and lead him between the tables. He’s quick as you reach the front door and flits around to open it for you. He really is playing the gentleman well.

As you get outside, you wait for him on the sidewalk and as he nears, you turn to walk parallel with him down the wide pavement. He’s quiet as he twiddles his slender fingers at his side. You take out your lip gloss to retouch your lips, twisting the cap on and tucking it away before you figure out what to say.

“You don’t really think I’m a lady, do you?” You kid.

He peeks over at you, “of course I do.”

“Steve,” you hum, flattered by his sincerity. You don’t know what to say.

You sidle closer with your next step and take his hand, twining your fingers through his as he flinches. He jitters then squeezes. You can feel him beaming.

“I like you, Steve,” you say, “but I think I might disappoint you.”

“You could never,” he counters.

“We barely know each other.”

“Yet.”

“Steve,” you chide as you turn through the archway of Elizabeth Square. You look up at the big letters wrought in iron. “I’m trying to warn you.”

“I don’t need to be warned,” he says, “I can handle it. I can handle you.”

You almost laugh. He’s brave when he wants to be. Just like back in the coffee shop.

You near the fountain and sigh, watching the water lap down over the lit basin. Heat seeps into you from your interlocked hands as he stops beside you. You both just stare at the spouting streams.

You tug on his arm and turn to him. He glances over shyly, “this is romantic, isn’t it?”

He chuckles nervously, “sure.”

“I think… if you want to,” you push your shoulder up and tilt your head, “it might be the perfect time to kiss me.”

He gulps and shifts to face you, “really?”

You arch a brow, “my lip gloss tastes like cherry.”

His mouth opens slightly and he sways, “cherry?”

You smile and lean in, stopping just before him as you pucker your lips. His brows rise high on his forehead and his cheeks brighten rosily. He steps close and meets your lips with his as he closes your eyes and you do the same. He presses against your lips before he shyly recoils.

He lets go of your hand and covers his mouth, “sorry, I never– was that bad.”

“Not at all,” you flick your lashes open, “that was sweet.”

“Sweet?” He murmurs.

“Come on,” you turn and sit on the wide ledges of the fountain, “we can work on it.”

“Work on it?” He squeaks.

You slap the marble next to you, “Steve, let me show you how to work in the tongue, that’s the fun part.” He looks like he’s about to faint. You laugh as he sits stiffly and you rub his back, “or not. You don’t have to do anything you don’t like.”

“No, I want to,” he pokes his tongue out to lick his lips, turning his head to you slowly, “you’re right, it’s cherry.”

You giggle and lean on the heel of your hand, bringing your other hand to his cheek. He grabs your wrist and pulls your touch away, surprising you as he frames your face instead. He grips your chin as he leans in and smushes his lips to yours again.

You open your mouth slightly and slip your tongue along his lips, welcoming him in. He takes your invitation as his hand crawls up your jaw, firmly holding your head. You lean into him, purring as you rest your hand just above his knee. Why hadn’t you tried a nice guy before?

#skinny steve rogers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #wasted #the club #au #drabble #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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calaisreno · 4 months

Text

Make a Choice

702 Words / Prompt: Choice

John’s therapist smiles. She’s the new one, he thinks. Or the one after that. Sometimes it’s hard to keep it all straight.

“How are the wife and kids?” she asks.

John sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Here’s the thing. You ask me that about half the time. The other half, you ask me how my flatmate is, what crazy stuff he's got up to.”

She blinks, then frowns. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do. It’s like I’m two separate people to you. Two John Watsons.”

“Perhaps… you could say a bit more about that.” She’s fallen back into therapist-mode, and John knows it will be hopeless to explain.

He will try, though. “This is what my life is: two non-intersecting realities. In one, I'm living in Clapham with Mary and my two kids, Rose and Hamish. I have pub nights with my old army buddies, started biking to work a few months ago, and work at a surgery, treating sniffles and rashes. Sort of boring, but it's what I always expected my life to be.”

She smiles, uncertain. “Yes, I remember. You’ve mentioned your friend Bill.”

“Right.” He leans forward, shaking his head at the absurdity. “But that’s just half of it. In the other life— well, let’s call it another reality. I have one life, split between these two. In the other reality, I'm living with Sherlock Holmes. I never know what's going to happen when I wake up each day. There will be a spleen in the sink, no milk in the fridge because it's all been used for an experiment, and Sherlock will either be nowhere in sight, or flopped on the sofa, taking up as much space as possible with his notes. We go out on cases a few times a month. I've been shot at, stabbed, and got some sort of fungal infection from whatever that was in the sugar bowl. Sort of crazy, but never boring.”

She’s biting her lip now. “John. It’s not unusual for PTSD to manifest itself in… well, imaginings.”

“You mean hallucinations. And that’s not what I’m saying. What I mean is that I am living two lives. The wife-and-kids one, and the Sherlock one. I never know which one I’m going to wake up to. And I have no idea why it’s happening.”

Notebook open, she’s writing something. Upside-down, he reads: possible psychosis.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he says. “I’m not psychotic. I always know which reality I’m in. I’m not confused. So, I'm wondering. You're the only factor common to both of these worlds. Do you realise what's happening to me? Is this... an experiment?”

Yesterday, when he explained this, she offered to schedule him in twice a week and send him to a sleep specialist.

Today, in a different reality, she regards him with a half-smile. “Well, John, that’s a good observation. Very good. I would say that it’s time to make a choice.”

She holds a gun.

...

His head is splitting. Sherlock is talking, and John is trying to make sense of it.

“Every decision point creates two parallel realities. Yes and no. Turn right, turn left. Go through the park, get on a bus. You’re not aware of all the consequences of your choices, but they exist, as real as the fact of your life—”

“The park,” he says. “I went through the park.”

“I know.” Sherlock frowns. “Are you all right, John?”

“Of course I’m not all right—I’ve been shot!”

“Wrong. You’re concussed.” He leans over John, studying him like a specimen. “He hit you on the head and stole your wallet. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You’re my mad flatmate. And my therapist shot me.”

“Wrong. I’m your husband. And you don’t have a therapist.“

He closes his eyes. “I think some wires got crossed.”

Sherlock kisses him. “You’ll be fine.”

...

In a parallel reality, a thief is talking to his therapist.

“How are the wife and kids?” she asks.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Here’s the thing. I stole this bloke’s wallet, and ever since, I’ve been living two lives.”

She smiles and leans forward. “Perhaps you could say more about that, John.”

@lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @ninasnakie @raina-at @friday411

#mayprompts2024

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top-secret-replier · 7 months

Note

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. : Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. JANET BENSON: Barry! Breakfast is ready! BARRY: Coming! : Hang on a second. (Barry uses his antenna like a phone) : Hello? ADAM FLAYMAN: (Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: -

Ow! That's me! JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry! BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we are men. ADAM: - We are! BARRY= - Bee-men. =ADAM= - Amen! BARRY AND ADAM: Hallelujah! (Barry and Adam both have a happy spasm)

ANNOUNCER: Students, faculty, distinguished bees, : please welcome Dean Buzzwell. DEAN BUZZWELL: Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... : ...9: : That concludes our ceremonies. : And begins your career at Honex Industries! ADAM: Will we pick our job today? (Adam and Barry get into a tour bus) BARRY= I heard it's just orientation. (Tour buses rise out of the ground and the students are automatically loaded into the buses) TOUR GUIDE: Heads up! Here we go. ANNOUNCER: Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. BARRY: - Wonder what it'll be like? ADAM: - A little scary. TOUR GUIDE== Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco : and a part of the Hexagon Group. Barry: This is it! BARRY AND ADAM: Wow. BARRY: Wow. (The bus drives down a road an on either side are the Bee's massive complicated Honey-making machines) TOUR GUIDE: We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life : to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. : Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM== - What do you think he makes? BARRY: - Not enough. TOUR GUIDE: Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. (They pass by a turning wheel with Bees standing on pegs, who are each wearing a finger-shaped hat) Barry: - Wow, What does that do? TOUR GUIDE: - Catches that little strand of honey : that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. ADAM: (Intrigued) Can anyone work on the Krelman? TOUR GUIDE: Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. : But choose carefully : because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. (Everyone claps except for Barry) BARRY: The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. ADAM: What's the difference? TOUR GUIDE: You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off : in 27 million years.

BARRY: (Upset) So you'll just work us to death? : We'll sure try. (Everyone on the bus laughs except Barry. Barry and Adam are walking back home together) ADAM: Wow! That blew my mind! BARRY: "What's the difference?" How can you say that? : One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. ADAM: I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. BARRY: But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? ADAM: Why would you question anything? We're bees. : We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away) LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them) ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! (Slaps Adam with his hand to represent his scenario) GIRL BEE #2: - Oh, my! BARRY: - I never thought I'd knock him out. GIRL BEE #1: (Looking at Adam) What were you doing during this? ADAM: Obviously I was trying to alert the authorities. BARRY: I can autograph that. (The pollen jocks walk up to Barry and Adam, they pretend that Barry and Adam really are pollen jocks.) POLLEN JOCK #1: A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? BARRY: Yeah. Gusty. POLLEN JOCK #1: We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. BARRY: - Six miles, huh? ADAM: - Barry! POLLEN JOCK #2: A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. BARRY: - Maybe I am. ADAM: - You are not! POLLEN JOCK #1: We're going 0900 at J-Gate. : What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? BARRY: I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. (The scene cuts to Barry looking out on the hive-city from his balcony at night) MARTIN: Hey, Honex! BARRY: Dad, you surprised me. MARTIN: You decide what you're interested in? BARRY: - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. : Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day?

MARTIN: Son, let me tell you about stirring. : You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. : You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. BARRY: You know, Dad, the more I think about it, : maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. MARTIN: You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? : That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. : Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! JANET: - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. BARRY: - I'm not trying to be funny. MARTIN: You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! JANET: - You're gonna be a stirrer? BARRY: - No one's listening to me! MARTIN: Wait till you see the sticks I have. BARRY: I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! (Barry's parents don't listen to him and continue to ramble on) MARTIN: Let's open some honey and celebrate! BARRY: Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. : Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! JANET: I'm so proud. (The scene cuts to Barry and Adam waiting in line to get a job) ADAM: - We're starting work today! BARRY: - Today's the day. ADAM: Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. BARRY: Yeah, right. JOB LISTER: Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Is it still available? JOB LISTER: - Hang on. Two left! : One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. ADAM: - What'd you get? BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Picking crud out. Stellar! (He walks away) ADAM: Wow! JOB LISTER: Couple of newbies? ADAM: Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! JOB LISTER: Make your choice. (Adam and Barry look up at the job board. There are hundreds of constantly changing panels that contain available or unavailable jobs. It looks very confusing) ADAM: - You want to go first? BARRY: - No, you go. ADAM: Oh, my. What's available? JOB LISTER: Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. ADAM: - Any chance of getting the Krelman? JOB LISTER: - Sure, you're on. (Puts the Krelman finger-hat on Adam's head) (Suddenly the sign for Krelman closes out) : I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. (Takes Adam's hat off) Wax monkey's always open. ADAM: The Krelman opened up again. : What happened? JOB

LISTER: A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. : Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. : Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! ADAM: Oh, this is so hard! (Barry remembers what the Pollen Jock offered him and he flies off) Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, : humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, : mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? (Adam turns around and sees Barry flying away) : Barry! POLLEN JOCK: All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... ADAM: (Through phone) What happened to you? Where are you? BARRY: - I'm going out. ADAM: - Out? Out where? BARRY: - Out there. ADAM: - Oh, no! BARRY: I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. ADAM: You're gonna die! You're crazy! (Barry hangs up) Hello? POLLEN JOCK #2: Another call coming in. : If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd : that gets their roses today. BARRY: Hey, guys. POLLEN JOCK #1 == - Look at that. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? LOU LO DUVA: Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. POLLEN JOCK #1: It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. (Puts hand on Barry's shoulder) LOU LO DUVA: (To Barry) Really? Feeling lucky, are you? BEE WITH CLIPBOARD: (To Barry) Sign here, here. Just initial that. : - Thank you. LOU LO DUVA: - OK. : You got a rain advisory today, : and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. : So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, : hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. : Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. : Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! BARRY: - That's awful. LOU LO DUVA: (Still talking through megaphone) - And a reminder for you rookies, : bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! : All right, launch positions! POLLEN JOCKS: (The Pollen Jocks run into formation) : Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! LOU LU

DUVA: Black and yellow! POLLEN JOCKS: Hello! POLLEN JOCK #1: (To Barry)You ready for this, hot shot? BARRY: Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. POLLEN JOCK's: Wind, check. : - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. : - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. BARRY: Scared out of my shorts, check. LOU LO DUVA: OK, ladies, : let's move it out! : Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! : All of you, drain those flowers! (The pollen jocks fly out of the hive) BARRY: Wow! I'm out! : I can't believe I'm out! : So blue. : I feel so fast and free! : Box kite! (Barry flies through the kite) : Wow! : Flowers! (A pollen jock puts on some high tech goggles that shows flowers similar to heat sink goggles.) POLLEN JOCK: This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. : Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. : Roses! POLLEN JOCK #1: 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. : Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. (The pollen jock fires a high-tech gun at the flower, shooting tubes that suck up the nectar from the flower and collects it into a pouch on the gun) BARRY: That is one nectar collector! POLLEN JOCK #1== - Ever see pollination up close? BARRY: - No, sir. POLLEN JOCK #1: (Barry and the Pollen jock fly over the field, the pollen jock sprinkles pollen as he goes) : I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, : a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. BARRY: That's amazing. Why do we do that? POLLEN JOCK #1: That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. BARRY: Cool. POLLEN JOCK #1: I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. could be daisies. Don't we need those? POLLEN JOCK #2: Copy that visual. : Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. POLLEN JOCK #1: Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? POLLEN JOCK #2: Affirmative. (The Pollen jocks land near the "flowers" which, to the audience are obviously just tennis balls) KEN: (In the distance) That was on the line! POLLEN JOCK #1: This is the coolest. What is it?

POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't know, but I'm loving this color. : It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. POLLEN JOCK #1: Yeah, fuzzy. (Sticks his hand on the ball but it gets stuck) POLLEN JOCK #3== Chemical-y. (The pollen jock finally gets his hand free from the tennis ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. (The pollen jocks turn around and see Barry lying his entire body on top of one of the tennis balls) POLLEN JOCK #2: My sweet lord of bees! POLLEN JOCK #3: Candy-brain, get off there! POLLEN JOCK #1: (Pointing upwards) Problem! (A human hand reaches down and grabs the tennis ball that Barry is stuck to) BARRY: - Guys! POLLEN JOCK #2: - This could be bad. POLLEN JOCK #3: Affirmative. (Vanessa Bloome starts bouncing the tennis ball, not knowing Barry is stick to it) BARRY== Very close. : Gonna hurt. : Mama's little boy. (Barry is being hit back and forth by two humans playing tennis. He is still stuck to the ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: You are way out of position, rookie! KEN: Coming in at you like a MISSILE! (Barry flies past the pollen jocks, still stuck to the ball) BARRY: (In slow motion) Help me!

POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't think these are flowers. POLLEN JOCK #3: - Should we tell him? POLLEN JOCK #1: - I think he knows. BARRY: What is this?! KEN: Match point! : You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to EAT IT! (A pollen jock coughs which confused Ken and he hits the ball the wrong way with Barry stuck to it and it goes flying into the city) BARRY: Yowser! (Barry bounces around town and gets stuck in the engine of a car. He flies into the air conditioner and sees a bug that was frozen in there) BARRY: Ew, gross. (The man driving the car turns on the air conditioner which blows Barry into the car) GIRL IN CAR: There's a bee in the car! : - Do something! DAD DRIVING CAR: - I'm driving! BABY GIRL: (Waving at Barry) - Hi, bee. (Barry smiles and waves at the baby girl) GUY IN BACK OF CAR: - He's back here! : He's going to sting me! GIRL IN CAR: Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! (Barry freezes as well, hovering in the middle of the car) : GRANDMA IN CAR== He blinked! (The grandma whips out some bee-spray and sprays everywhere in the car, climbing into the front seat, still trying to spray Barry) GIRL IN CAR: Spray him, Granny! DAD DRIVING THE CAR: What are you doing?! (Barry escapes the car through the air conditioner and is flying high above the ground, safe.) BARRY: Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. (Barry sees that storm clouds are gathering and he can see rain clouds moving into this direction) : I gotta get home. : Can't fly in rain. : Can't fly in rain. (A rain drop hits Barry and one of his wings is damaged) : Can't fly in rain. (A second rain drop hits Barry again and he spirals downwards) Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! (WW2 plane sound effects are played as he plummets, and he crash-lands on a plant inside an apartment near the window) VANESSA BLOOME: Ken, could you close the window please?

KEN== Hey, check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. : You see? (Folds brochure resume out) Folds out. (Ken closes the window, trapping Barry inside) BARRY: Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. (Barry tries to fly away but smashes into the window and falls again) : What was that? (Barry keeps trying to fly out the window but he keeps being knocked back because the window is closed) Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... : Drapes! (Barry taps the glass. He doesn't understand what it is) That is diabolical. KEN: It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. ANDY: What's number one? Star Wars? KEN: Nah, I don't go for that... (Ken makes finger guns and makes "pew pew pew" sounds and then stops) : ...kind of stuff. BARRY: No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. KEN: When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. BARRY: (Looking at the light on the ceiling)

There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. (Starts flying towards the lightbulb) : I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. (Barry hits the lightbulb and falls into the dip on the table that the humans are sitting at) KEN: I predicted global warming. : I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. (Andy dips a chip into the bowl and scoops up some dip with Barry on it and is about to put it in his mouth) : Wait! Stop! Bee! (Andy drops the chip with Barry in fear and backs away. All the humans freak out) : Stand back. These are winter boots. (Ken has winter boots on his hands and he is about to smash the bee but Vanessa saves him last second) VANESSA: Wait! : Don't kill him! (Vanessa puts Barry in a glass to protect him) KEN: You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! VANESSA: Why does his life have less value than yours? KEN: Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? VANESSA: I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. (Vanessa picks up Ken's brochure and puts it under the glass so she can carry Barry back to the window. Barry looks at Vanessa in amazement) KEN: My brochure! VANESSA: There you go, little guy. (Vanessa opens the window and lets Barry out but Barry stays back and is still shocked that a human saved his life) KEN: I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. VANESSA: Put that on your resume brochure. KEN: My whole face could puff up. ANDY: Make it one of your special skills. KEN: Knocking someone out is also a special skill. (Ken walks to the door) Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. : - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? VANESSA: - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. : (Vanessa tries to close door) KEN== - You could put carob chips on there. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door but Ken opens it again) KEN: - Supposed to be less calories. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door) (Fast forward to the next day, Barry is still inside the house. He flies into the kitchen where Vanessa is doing dishes)

BARRY== (Talking to himself) I gotta say something. : She saved my life. I gotta say something. : All right, here it goes. (Turns back) Nah. : What would I say? : I could really get in trouble. : It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. : I can't believe I'm doing this. : I've got to. (Barry disguises himself as a character on a food can as Vanessa walks by again) : Oh, I can't do it. Come on! : No. Yes. No. : Do it. I can't. : How should I start it? (Barry strikes a pose and wiggles his eyebrows) "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. (Vanessa is about to walk past Barry) Here she comes! Speak, you fool! : ...Hi! (Vanessa gasps and drops the dishes in fright and notices Barry on the counter) : I'm sorry. VANESSA: - You're talking. BARRY: - Yes, I know. VANESSA: (Pointing at Barry) You're talking! BARRY: I'm so sorry. VANESSA: No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. : But I don't recall going to bed. BARRY: Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. VANESSA: This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! BARRY: I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, (Pointing to the living room where Ken tried to kill him last night) but they were all trying to kill me. : And if it wasn't for you... : I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. (Vanessa stabs her hand with a fork to test whether she's dreaming or not) : That was a little weird. VANESSA: - I'm talking with a bee. BARRY: - Yeah. VANESSA: I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! BARRY: I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. (Barry turns to leave) VANESSA: - Wait! How did you learn to do that? BARRY: (Flying back) - What? VANESSA: The talking...thing. BARRY: Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. VANESSA: - That's very funny. BARRY: - Yeah. : Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. : Anyway... VANESSA: Can I... : ...get you something? BARRY: - Like what? VANESSA: I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? BARRY: I don't want to put you out. VANESSA: It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. : - It's just coffee. BARRY: - I hate to impose. (Vanessa starts making coffee) VANESSA: - Don't be ridiculous! BARRY: - Actually, I would love a cup. VANESSA: Hey, you want rum cake? BARRY: - I shouldn't. VANESSA: - Have some. BARRY: - No, I can't. VANESSA: - Come on! BARRY: I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. VANESSA: - Where? BARRY: - These stripes don't help.

VANESSA: You look great! BARRY: I don't know if you know anything about fashion. : Are you all right? VANESSA: (Pouring coffee on the floor and missing the cup completely) No. (Flash forward in time. Barry and Vanessa are sitting together at a table on top of the apartment building drinking coffee) : BARRY== He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. : He finally gets there. : He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. : And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. : Why would I marry a watermelon?" (Barry laughs but Vanessa looks confused) VANESSA: Is that a bee joke? BARRY: That's the kind of stuff we do. VANESSA: Yeah, different. : So, what are you gonna do, Barry? (Barry stands on top of a sugar cube floating in his coffee and paddles it around with a straw like it's a gondola) BARRY: About work? I don't know. : I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. VANESSA: I know how you feel. BARRY: - You do? VANESSA: - Sure. : My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. BARRY: - Really? VANESSA: - My only interest is flowers. BARRY: Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. : Anyway, if you look... (Barry points to a tree in the middle of Central Park) : There's my hive right there. See it? VANESSA: You're in Sheep Meadow! BARRY: Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! VANESSA: No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. BARRY: - Why do girls put rings on their toes? VANESSA: - Why not? BARRY: - It's like putting a hat on your knee. VANESSA: - Maybe I'll try that. (A custodian installing a lightbulb looks over at them but to his perspective it looks like Vanessa is talking to a cup of coffee on the table) CUSTODIAN: - You all right, ma'am? VANESSA: - Oh, yeah.

Fine. : Just having two cups of coffee! BARRY: Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. VANESSA== Yeah, it's no trouble. BARRY: Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. (Barry points towards the rum cake) : Can I take a piece of this with me? VANESSA: Sure! Here, have a crumb. (Vanessa hands Barry a crumb but it is still pretty big for Barry) BARRY: - Thanks! VANESSA: - Yeah. BARRY: All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. : Or not. VANESSA: OK, Barry... BARRY: And thank you so much again... for before. VANESSA: Oh, that? That was nothing. BARRY: Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... (Vanessa and Barry hold hands, but Vanessa has to hold out a finger because her hands is to big and Barry holds that) (The custodian looks over again and it appears Vanessa is laughing at her coffee again. The lightbulb that he was screwing in sparks and he falls off the ladder) (Fast forward in time and we see two Bee Scientists testing out a parachute in a Honex wind tunnel) BEE SCIENTIST #1: This can't possibly work. BEE SCIENTIST #2: He's all set to go. We may as well try it. : OK, Dave, pull the chute. (Dave pulls the chute and the wind slams him against the wall and he falls on his face.The camera pans over and we see Barry and Adam walking together) ADAM: - Sounds amazing. BARRY: - It was amazing! : It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. ADAM: Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! : Giant, scary humans! What were they like? BARRY: Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. : They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. ADAM: - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? BARRY: - Some of them. But some of them don't.

ADAM: - How'd you get back? BARRY: - Poodle. ADAM: You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. : You had your "experience." Now you can pick out your job and be normal. BARRY: - Well... ADAM: - Well? BARRY: Well, I met someone. ADAM: You did? Was she Bee-ish? : - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! BARRY: - No, no, no, not a wasp. ADAM: - Spider? BARRY: - I'm not attracted to spiders. : I know, for everyone else, it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. : I can't get by that face. ADAM: So who is she? BARRY: She's... human. ADAM: No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. BARRY: - Her name's Vanessa. (Adam puts his head in his hands) ADAM: - Oh, boy. BARRY== She's so nice. And she's a florist! ADAM: Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! BARRY: We're not dating. ADAM: You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes : with power washers and M-80s! That's one-eighth a stick of dynamite! BARRY: She saved my life! And she understands me. ADAM: This is over! BARRY: Eat this. (Barry gives Adam a piece of the crumb that he got from Vanessa. Adam eats it)

ADAM: (Adam's tone changes) This is not over! What was that? BARRY: - They call it a crumb. ADAM: - It was so stingin' stripey! BARRY: And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! : - You know what a Cinnabon is? ADAM: - No. (Adam opens a door behind him and he pulls Barry in) BARRY: It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. ADAM: Be quiet! BARRY: They heat it up... ADAM: Sit down! (Adam forces Barry to sit down) BARRY: (Still rambling about Cinnabons) ...really hot! (Adam grabs Barry by the shoulders) ADAM: - Listen to me! : We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! BARRY== Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? ADAM: There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! : You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! BARRY: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEE: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEES AND ADAM: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! (Flash forward in time; Barry is laying on a raft in a pool full of honey. He is wearing sunglasses) JANET: There he is. He's in the pool. MARTIN: You know what your problem is, Barry? (Barry pulls down his sunglasses and he looks annoyed) BARRY: (Sarcastic) I gotta start thinking bee? JANET: How much longer will this go on? MARTIN: It's been three days! Why aren't you working? (Puts sunglasses back on)

BARRY: I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. MARTIN: What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! JANET: Would it kill you to make a little honey? (Barry rolls off the raft and sinks into the honey pool) : Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. : Martin, would you talk to him? MARTIN: Barry, I'm talking to you! (Barry keeps sinking into the honey until he is suddenly in Central Park having a picnic with Vanessa) (Barry has a cup of honey and he clinks his glass with Vanessas. Suddenly a mosquito lands on Vanessa and she slaps it, killing it. They both gasp but then burst out laughing) VANESSA: You coming? (The camera pans over and Vanessa is climbing into a small yellow airplane) BARRY: Got everything? VANESSA: All set! BARRY: Go ahead. I'll catch up. (Vanessa lifts off and flies ahead) VANESSA: Don't be too long. (Barry catches up with Vanessa and he sticks out his arms like ana irplane. He rolls from side to side, and Vanessa copies him with the airplane)

VANESSA: Watch this! (Barry stays back and watches as Vanessa draws a heart in the air using pink smoke from the plane, but on the last loop-the-loop she suddenly crashes into a mountain and the plane explodes. The destroyed plane falls into some rocks and explodes a second time) BARRY: Vanessa! (As Barry is yelling his mouth fills with honey and he wakes up, discovering that he was just day dreaming. He slowly sinks back into the honey pool) MARTIN: - We're still here. JANET: - I told you not to yell at him. : He doesn't respond to yelling! MARTIN: - Then why yell at me? JANET: - Because you don't listen! MARTIN: I'm not listening to this. BARRY: Sorry, I've gotta go. MARTIN: - Where are you going? BARRY: - I'm meeting a friend.

JANET: A girl? Is this why you can't decide? BARRY: Bye. (Barry flies out the door and Martin shakes his head) : JANET== I just hope she's Bee-ish. (Fast forward in time and Barry is sitting on Vanessa's shoulder and she is closing up her shop) BARRY: They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? VANESSA: To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! : Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. BARRY: A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? VANESSA: No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? BARRY: It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. VANESSA: Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. BARRY: TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! VANESSA: You don't have that? BARRY: We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. VANESSA: Oh, my. (A human walks by and Barry narrowly avoids him) PASSERBY: Dumb bees!

VANESSA: You must want to sting all those jerks. BARRY: We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. VANESSA: So you have to watch your temper (They walk into a store) BARRY: Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, : write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: : Anger, jealousy, lust. (Suddenly an employee(Hector) hits Barry off of Vanessa's shoulder. Hector thinks he's saving Vanessa) VANESSA: (To Barry) Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? (Barry is getting up off the floor) BARRY: Yeah. VANESSA: (To Hector) - What is wrong with you?! HECTOR: (Confused) - It's a bug. VANESSA: He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! (Vanessa hits Hector across the face with the magazine he had and then hits him in the head. Hector backs away covering his head) Barry: What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? (Vanessa sets Barry back on her shoulder) VANESSA: Yeah, it was. How did you know? BARRY: It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. VANESSA: You've really got that down to a science. BARRY: - Oh, we have to. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. VANESSA: - I'll bet. (Barry looks to his right and notices there is honey for sale in the aisle) BARRY: What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? (Barry looks at all the brands of honey, shocked) How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, : Ray Liotta Private Select? (Barry puts his hands up and slowly turns around, a look of disgust on his face)

VANESSA: - Is he that actor? BARRY: - I never heard of him. : - Why is this here? VANESSA: - For people. We eat it. BARRY: You don't have enough food of your own?! (Hector looks back and notices that Vanessa is talking to Barry) VANESSA: - Well, yes. BARRY: - How do you get it? VANESSA: - Bees make it. BARRY: - I know who makes it! : And it's hard to make it! : There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! VANESSA: - It's organic. BARRY: - It's our-ganic! VANESSA: It's just honey, Barry. BARRY: Just what?! : Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! : You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! : And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. : I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! (Flash forward in time; Barry paints his face with black strikes like a soldier and sneaks into the storage section of the store) (Two men, including Hector, are loading boxes into some trucks) :

SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE== Hey, Hector. : - You almost done? HECTOR: - Almost. (Barry takes a step to peak around the corner) (Whispering) He is here. I sense it. : Well, I guess I'll go home now (Hector pretends to walk away by walking in place and speaking loudly) : and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. BARRY: You're busted, box boy! HECTOR: I knew I heard something! So you can talk! BARRY: I can talk. And now you'll start talking! : Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? HECTOR: I don't understand. I thought we were friends. : The last thing we want to do is upset bees! (Hector takes a thumbtack out of the board behind him and sword-fights Barry. Barry is using his stinger like a sword) : You're too late! It's ours now! BARRY: You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! HECTOR: You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! (Barry hits the thumbtack out of Hectors hand and Hector surrenders) Barry: Where is the honey coming from? : Tell me where! HECTOR: (Pointing to leaving truck) Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! (Barry chases after the truck but it is getting away. He flies onto a bicyclists' backpack and he catches up to the truck) CAR

DRIVER: (To bicyclist) Crazy person! (Barry flies off and lands on the windshield of the Honey farms truck. Barry looks around and sees dead bugs splattered everywhere) BARRY: What horrible thing has happened here? : These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now : they're on the road to nowhere! (Barry hears a sudden whisper) (Barry looks up and sees Mooseblood, a mosquito playing dead) MOOSEBLOOD: Just keep still. BARRY: What? You're not dead? MOOSEBLOOD: Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? BARRY: To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. MOOSEBLOOD: I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! ANOTHER BUG PLAYING DEAD: I'm going to Tacoma. (Barry looks at another bug) BARRY: - And you? MOOSEBLOOD: - He really is dead. BARRY: All right. (Another bug hits the windshield and the drivers notice. They activate the windshield wipers) MOOSEBLOOD== Uh-oh! (The windshield wipers are slowly sliding over the dead bugs and wiping them off) BARRY: - What is that?! MOOSEBLOOD: - Oh, no! : - A wiper! Triple blade! BARRY: - Triple blade? MOOSEBLOOD: Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! (Mooseblood and Barry grab onto the wiper and they hold on as it wipes the windshield) Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! : How much do you people need to see?! (Bangs on windshield) : Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window!

RADIO IN TRUCK: From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. MOOSEBLOOD: But don't kill no more bugs! (Mooseblood and Barry are washed off by the wipr fluid) MOOSEBLOOD: - Bee! BARRY: - Moose blood guy!! (Barry starts screaming as he hangs onto the antenna) (Suddenly it is revealed that a water bug is also hanging on the antenna. There is a pause and then Barry and the water bug both start screaming) TRUCK DRIVER: - You hear something? GUY IN TRUCK: - Like what? TRUCK DRIVER: Like tiny screaming. GUY IN TRUCK: Turn off the radio. (The antenna starts to lower until it gets to low and sinks into the truck. The water bug flies off and Barry is forced to let go and he is blown away. He luckily lands inside a horn on top of the truck where he finds Mooseblood, who was blown into the same place) MOOSEBLOOD: Whassup, bee boy? BARRY: Hey, Blood. (Fast forward in time and we see that Barry is deep in conversation with Mooseblood. They have been sitting in this truck for a while) BARRY: ...Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. MOOSEBLOOD: Wow! BARRY: I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. : I mean, that honey's ours. MOOSEBLOOD: - Bees hang tight. BARRY: - We're all jammed in. : It's a close community. MOOSEBLOOD: Not us, man. We on our own.Every mosquito on his own. BARRY: - What if you get in trouble?

MOOSEBLOOD: - You a mosquito, you in trouble. : Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! BARRY: At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. MOOSEBLOOD: Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. : Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. (An ambulance passes by and it has a blood donation sign on it) You got to be kidding me! : Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! (Mooseblood leaves and flies onto the window of the ambulance where there are other mosquito's hanging out) : - Hey, guys! OTHER MOSQUITO: - Mooseblood! MOOSEBLOOD: I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? (The truck goes out of view and Barry notices that the truck he's on is pulling into a camp of some sort) TRUCK DRIVER: We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. (Barry flies out) BARRY: What is this place? BEEKEEPER 1#: A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. BEEKEEPER #2: They are pinheads! : Pinhead. : - Check out the new smoker. BEEKEEPER #1: - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. : The Thomas 3000! BARRY: Smoker? BEEKEEPER #1: Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. : A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. BEEKEEPER #2: They make the honey, and we make the money. BARRY: "They make the honey, and we make the money"? (The Beekeeper sprays hundreds of cheap miniature apartments with the smoker. The bees are fainting or passing out) Oh, my! : What's going on? Are you OK? (Barry flies into one of the apartment and helps a Bee couple get off the ground. They are coughing and its hard for them to stand) BEE IN

APARTMENT: Yeah. It doesn't last too long. BARRY: Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? BEE IN APPARTMENT: Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. (The apartment room is completely empty except for a photo on the wall of the "queen" who is obviously a man in women's clothes) BARRY: This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! : That's a drag queen! : What is this? (Barry flies out and he discovers that there are hundreds of these structures, each housing thousands of Bees) Oh, no! : There's hundreds of them! (Barry takes out his camera and takes pictures of these Bee work camps. The beekeepers look very evil in these depictions) Bee honey. : Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! : This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. (Flash forward in time and Barry is showing these pictures to his parents) JANET: Oh, Barry, stop. MARTIN: Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. BARRY: Do these look like rumors? (Holds up the pictures) UNCLE CARL: That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. JANET: How did you get mixed up in this? ADAM: He's been talking to humans. JANET: - What? MARTIN: - Talking to humans?! ADAM: He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! JANET: Make out? Barry!

BARRY: We do not. ADAM: - You wish you could. MARTIN: - Whose side are you on? BARRY: The bees! UNCLE CARL: (He has been sitting in the back of the room this entire time) I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. JANET: Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? BARRY: I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! : Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked : your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. JANET: I remember that. BARRY: What right do they have to our honey? : We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! ADAM: Even if it's true, what can one bee do? BARRY: Sting them where it really hurts. MARTIN: In the face! The eye! : - That would hurt. BARRY: - No. MARTIN: Up the nose? That's a killer. BARRY: There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. (Flash forward a bit in time and we are watching the Bee News) BEE NEWS NARRATOR: Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. BEE PROTESTOR: No more bee beards! BEE NEWS NARRATOR: With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. : Weather with Storm Stinger. : Sports with Buzz Larvi. : And Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. JEANETTE CHUNG: - And I'm Jeanette Chung. BOB

BUMBLE: A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, : intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, : packaging it and profiting from it illegally! JEANETTE CHUNG: Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, : we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, : Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. (The scene changes to an interview on the news with Bee version of Larry King and Barry) BEE LARRY KING: Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. : Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? BARRY: Bees have never been afraid to change the world. : What about Bee Columbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? BEE LARRY KING: Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. : We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. BARRY: How old are you? BEE LARRY KING: The bee community is supporting you in this case, : which will be the trial of the bee century. BARRY: You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. BEE LARRY KING: It's a common name. Next week... BARRY: He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... BEE LARRY KING: Next week... BARRY: Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. BEE LARRY KING: Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here, live. (Bee Larry King gets annoyed and flies away offscreen) BARRY: Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. (Flash forward in time. We see Vanessa enter and Ken enters behind her. They are arguing) KEN: In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! VANESSA: It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. KEN== Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? BARRY: (To Ken) Quiet, please. Actual work going on here.

KEN: (Pointing at Barry) - Is that that same bee? VANESSA: - Yes, it is! : I'm helping him sue the human race. BARRY: - Hello. KEN: - Hello, bee. VANESSA: This is Ken. BARRY: (Recalling the "Winter Boots" incident earlier) Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. KEN: (To Vanessa) Why does he talk again? VANESSA: Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. KEN: But it's our yogurt night! VANESSA: (Holding door open for Ken) Bye-bye. KEN: (Yelling) Why is yogurt night so difficult?! (Ken leaves and Vanessa walks over to Barry. His workplace is a mess) VANESSA: You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! BARRY: Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. ADAM: - Frosting... - How many sugars? ==BARRY== Just one. I try not to use the competition. : So why are you helping me? VANESSA: Bees have good qualities. : And it takes my mind off the shop. : Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. BARRY: Those are great, if you're three. VANESSA: And artificial flowers. BARRY: - Oh, those just get me psychotic! VANESSA: - Yeah, me too. : BARRY: Bent stingers, pointless pollination. ADAM: Bees must hate those fake things! : Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. : Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. VANESSA: - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. BARRY: - I guess. ADAM: You sure you want to go through with it? BARRY: Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able : to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! (Flash forward in time and we are watching the human news. The camera shows a crowd outside a courthouse) NEWS

REPORTER: It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, : where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, : we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. (We are no longer watching through a news camera) ADAM: What have we gotten into here, Barry? BARRY: It's pretty big, isn't it? ADAM== (Looking at the hundreds of people around the courthouse) I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. BARRY: You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? SECURITY GUARD: Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. (A limousine drives up and a fat man,Layton Montgomery, a honey industry owner gets out and walks past Barry) ADAM: - What's the matter? BARRY: - I don't know, I just got a chill. (Fast forward in time and everyone is in the court) MONTGOMERY: Well, if it isn't the bee team. (To Honey Industry lawyers) You boys work on this? MAN: All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. JUDGE

BUMBLETON: All right. Case number 4475, : Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry : is now in session. : Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? MONTGOMERY: A privilege. JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? (Everyone looks closely, they are waiting to see if a Bee can really talk) (Barry makes several buzzing sounds to sound like a Bee) BARRY: I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. JUDGE BUMBLBETON: Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. MONTGOMERY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, : my grandmother was a simple woman. : Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right : to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. : If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, : just think of what would it mean. : I would have to negotiate with the silkworm : for the elastic in my britches! : Talking bee! (Montgomery walks over and looks closely at Barry) : How do we know this isn't some sort of : holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? : They could be using laser beams! : Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, : he could be on steroids! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson? BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. : I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. : It's important to all bees. We invented it! : We make it. And we protect it with our lives. : Unfortunately, there are some people in this room : who think they can take it from us : 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, : you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have : but everything we are! JANET== (To Martin) I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Call your first witness. BARRY: So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. KLAUSS

VANDERHAYDEN: I suppose so. BARRY: I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! KLAUSS: Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. BARRY: Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. : I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? KLAUSS: (Quietly) - No. BARRY: - I couldn't hear you. KLAUSS: - No. BARRY: - No. : Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, : it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. KLAUSS: They're very lovable creatures. : Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. BARRY: You mean like this? (The bear from Over The Hedge barges in through the back door and it is roaring and standing on its hind legs. It is thrashing its claws and people are screaming. It is being held back by a guard who has the bear on a chain) : (Pointing to the roaring bear) Bears kill bees! : How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! : Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! JUDGE BUMBLETON: OK, that's enough. Take him away. (The bear stops roaring and thrashing and walks out) BARRY: So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. : - Where have I heard it before? MR. STING: - I was with a band called The Police. BARRY: But you've never been a police officer, have you? STING: No, I haven't. BARRY: No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example : of bee culture casually stolen by a human : for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. STING: Oh, please. BARRY: Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? : Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. : Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! MONTGOMERY: That's not his real name?! You idiots!

BARRY: Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on : your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. RAY LIOTTA: Thank you. Thank you. BARRY: I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome : with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. RAY LIOTTA: I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? BARRY: Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? : Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't : have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? RAY LIOTTA: Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! BARRY: This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! (Ray Liotta looses it and tries to grab Barry) RAY LIOTTA: Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! JUDGE BUMBLETON: - Order in this court! RAY LIOTTA: - You're all thinking it! (Judge Bumbleton starts banging her gavel) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Order! Order, I say! RAY LIOTTA: - Say it! MAN: - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! (We see a montage of magazines which feature the court case) (Flash forward in time and Barry is back home with Vanessa) BARRY: I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. VANESSA: I think the jury's on our side. BARRY: Are we doing everything right,you know, legally? VANESSA: I'm a florist. BARRY: Right. Well, here's to a great team. VANESSA: To a great team! (Ken walks in from work. He sees Barry and he looks upset when he sees Barry clinking his glass with Vanessa) KEN: Well, hello. VANESSA: - Oh, Ken! BARRY: - Hello! VANESSA: I didn't think you were coming. : No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... (Ken holds up his phone and flips it open. The phone has no charge) ...the battery... VANESSA: I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. KEN: Oh, that was lucky. (Ken sits down at the table across from Barry and Vanessa leaves the room)

VANESSA: There's a little left. I could heat it up. KEN: (Not taking his eyes off Barry) Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. BARRY: So I hear you're quite a tennis player. : I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. KEN: That's where I usually sit. Right... (Points to where Barry is sitting) there. VANESSA: (Calling from other room) Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, : and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. KEN: (To Barry) You think I don't see what you're doing? BARRY: I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common. KEN: Do we? BARRY: Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. KEN: (Menacingly) That's just what I was thinking about doing. (Ken reaches for a fork on the table but knocks if on the floor. He goes to pick it up) VANESSA: Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. (Ken quickly rises back up after hearing this but hits his head on the table and yells) BARRY: I'm going to drain the old stinger. KEN: Yeah, you do that. (Barry flies past Ken to get to the bathroom and Ken freaks out, splashing some of the wine he was using to cool his head in his eyes. He yells in anger) (Barry looks at the magazines featuring his victories in court) BARRY: Look at that. (Barry flies into the bathroom) (He puts his hand on his head but this makes hurts him and makes him even madder. He yells again) (Barry is washing his hands in the sink but then Ken walks in) KEN: You know, you know I've just about had it (Closes bathroom door behind him) with your little mind games. (Ken is menacingly rolling up a magazine) BARRY: (Backing away) - What's that? KEN: - Italian Vogue.

BARRY: Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. KEN: It's a lot of ads. BARRY: Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? KEN: That's funny, I just can't seem to recall that! (Ken smashes everything off the sink with the magazine and Barry narrowly escapes) (Ken follows Barry around and tries to hit him with the magazine but he keeps missing) (Ken gets a spray bottle) : I think something stinks in here! BARRY: (Enjoying the spray) I love the smell of flowers. (Ken holds a lighter in front of the spray bottle) KEN: How do you like the smell of flames?! BARRY: Not as much. (Ken fires his make-shift flamethrower but misses Barry, burning the bathroom. He torches the whole room but looses his footing and falls into the bathtub. After getting hit in the head by falling objects 3 times he picks up the shower head, revealing a Water bug hiding under it) WATER BUG: Water bug! Not taking sides! (Barry gets up out of a pile of bathroom supplies and he is wearing a chapstick hat) BARRY: Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! (Ken switches the shower head to lethal) KEN: I've got issues! (Ken sprays Barry with the shower head and he crash lands into the toilet) (Ken menacingly looks down into the toilet at Barry) Well, well, well, a royal flush!

BARRY: - You're bluffing. KEN: - Am I? (flushes toilet) (Barry grabs a chapstick from the toilet seat and uses it to surf in the flushing toilet) BARRY: Surf's up, dude! (Barry flies out of the toilet on the chapstick and sprays Ken's face with the toilet water) : EW,Poo water! BARRY: That bowl is gnarly. KEN: (Aiming a toilet cleaner at Barry) Except for those dirty yellow rings! (Barry cowers and covers his head and Vanessa runs in and takes the toilet cleaner from Ken just before he hits Barry) VANESSA: Kenneth! What are you doing?! KEN== (Leaning towards Barry) You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! VANESSA: We need to talk! (Vanessa pulls Ken out of the bathroom) : He's just a little bee! : And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! KEN: Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? VANESSA: No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! KEN: Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... : My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! VANESSA: Goodbye, Ken. (Ken huffs and walks out and slams the door. But suddenly he walks back in and stares at Barry) : And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners MADE BY MAN! (Ken leaves again and Vanessa leans in towards Barry)

VANESSA: I'm sorry about all that. (Ken walks back in again) KEN: I know it's got an aftertaste! I LIKE IT! (Ken leaves for the last time) VANESSA: I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. : I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. : Are you OK for the trial? BARRY: I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. (Flash forward in time and Barry, Adam, and Vanessa are back in court) MONTGOMERY-- We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. ADAM: Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... (Barry stares at Adam) ...Yeah. LAWYER: Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. MONTGOMERY: Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around : is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. (To lawyer) - You got the tweezers? LAWYER: - Are you allergic? MONTGOMERY: Only to losing, son. Only to losing. : Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. : What exactly is your relationship (Points to Vanessa) : to that woman? BARRY: We're friends. MONTGOMERY: - Good friends? BARRY: - Yes.

MONTGOMERY: How good? Do you live together? ADAM: Wait a minute... : MONTGOMERY: Are you her little... : ...bedbug? (Adam's stinger starts vibrating. He is agitated) I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, : doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? BARRY: - Yeah, but... MONTGOMERY: (Pointing at Janet and Martin) - So those aren't your real parents! JANET: - Oh, Barry... BARRY: - Yes, they are! ADAM: Hold me back! (Vanessa tries to hold Adam back. He wants to sting Montgomery) MONTGOMERY: You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? ADAM: He's denouncing bees! MONTGOMERY: Don't y'all date your cousins? (Montgomery leans over on the jury stand and stares at Adam) VANESSA: - Objection! (Vanessa raises her hand to object but Adam gets free. He flies straight at Montgomery) =ADAM: - I'm going to pincushion this guy! BARRY: Adam, don't! It's what he wants! (Adam stings Montgomery in the butt and he starts thrashing around) MONTGOMERY: Oh, I'm hit!! : Oh, lordy, I am hit! JUDGE

BUMBLETON: (Banging gavel) Order! Order! MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting) The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! : I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! : You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! : Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! BARRY: - Adam, stay with me. ADAM: - I can't feel my legs. MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting and throwing his body around the room) What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison : from my heaving buttocks? JUDGE BUMLBETON: I will have order in this court. Order! : Order, please! (Flash forward in time and we see a human news reporter) NEWS REPORTER: The case of the honeybees versus the human race : took a pointed turn against the bees : yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. (Adam is laying in a hospital bed and Barry flies in to see him) BARRY: - Hey, buddy. ADAM: - Hey.

BARRY: - Is there much pain? ADAM: - Yeah. : I... : I blew the whole case, didn't I? BARRY: It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. ADAM: I'd be better off dead. Look at me. (A small plastic sword is replaced as Adam's stinger) They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. : Look, there's a little celery still on it. (Flicks off the celery and sighs) BARRY: What was it like to sting someone? ADAM: I can't explain it. It was all... : All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! BARRY: ...All right. ADAM: You think it was all a trap? BARRY: Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. : What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. ADAM: What will the humans do to us if they win? BARRY: I don't know. ADAM: I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. BARRY: Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! ADAM: Oh, my. (Coughs) Could you get a nurse to close that window? BARRY: - Why? ADAM: - The smoke. (We can see that two humans are smoking cigarettes outside) : Bees don't smoke.

BARRY: Right. Bees don't smoke. : Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. : That's it! That's our case! ADAM: It is? It's not over? BARRY: Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. : Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. (Flash forward in time and Adam is making a paper boat in the courtroom) ADAM: And assuming you've done step 29 correctly, you're ready for the tub! (We see that the jury have each made their own paper boats after being taught how by Adam. They all look confused) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman.

ADAM: Yes? Yes, Your Honor! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Where is the rest of your team? ADAM: (Continues stalling) Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. : Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, : and as a result, we don't make very good time. : I actually heard a funny story about... MONTGOMERY: Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs : taken up enough of this court's valuable time? : How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? : They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges : against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. : I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case!

JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going : to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. ADAM: But you can't! We have a terrific case. MONTGOMERY: Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? : Show me the smoking gun! BARRY: (Barry flies in through the door) Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? : Here is your smoking gun. (Vanessa walks in holding a bee smoker. She sets it down on the Judge's podium) JUDGE BUMBLETON: What is that? BARRY: It's a bee smoker!

MONTGOMERY: (Picks up smoker) What, this? This harmless little contraption? : This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. (Montgomery accidentally fires it at the bees in the crowd and they faint and cough) (Dozens of reporters start taking pictures of the suffering bees) BARRY: Look at what has happened : to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" : Is this what nature intended for us? : To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines : and man-made wooden slat work camps? : Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? (Barry points to the honey industry owners. One of them is an African American so he awkwardly separates himself from the others) LAWYER: - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! ADAM AND VANESSA: Free the bees! Free the bees! BEES IN CROWD: Free the bees! HUMAN JURY: Free the bees! Free the bees! JUDGE BUMBLETON: The court finds in favor of the bees! BARRY: Vanessa, we won! VANESSA: I knew you could do it! High-five! (Vanessa hits Barry hard because her hand is too big) : Sorry. BARRY: (Overjoyed) I'm OK! You know what this means? : All the honey will finally belong to the bees. : Now we won't have to work so hard all the time.

MONTGOMERY: This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. : You'll regret this. (Montgomery leaves and Barry goes outside the courtroom. Several reporters start asking Barry questions) REPORTER 1#: Barry, how much honey is out there? BARRY: All right. One at a time. REPORTER 2#: Barry, who are you wearing? BARRY: My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. (Barry flies outside with the paparazzi and Adam and Vanessa stay back) ADAM: (To Vanessa) - What if Montgomery's right? Vanessa: - What do you mean? ADAM: We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to a man) BUSINESS MAN: Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement?

BARRY: First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. (As Barry is talking we see a montage of men putting "closed" tape over the work camps and freeing the bees in the crappy apartments) Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, : every last drop. (Men in suits are pushing all the honey of the aisle and into carts) We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more (We see a statue of a bear-shaped honey container being pulled down by bees) than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. : We're all aware of what they do in the woods. (We see Winnie the Pooh sharing his honey with Piglet in the cross-hairs of a high-tech sniper rifle)

BARRY: (Looking through binoculars) Wait for my signal. : Take him out. (Winnie gets hit by a tranquilizer dart and dramatically falls off the log he was standing on, his tongue hanging out. Piglet looks at Pooh in fear and the Sniper takes the honey.) SNIPER: He'll have nausea for a few hours, then he'll be fine. (Flash forward in time) BARRY: And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... (Mr. Sting is sitting at home until he is taken out of his house by the men in suits) STING: But it's just a prance-about stage name! BARRY: ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products : and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. (An old lady is mixing honey into her tea but suddenly men in suits smash her face down on the table and take the honey)

OLD LADY: Can't breathe. (A honey truck pulls up to Barry's hive) WORKER: Bring it in, boys! : Hold it right there! Good. : Tap it. (Tons of honey is being pumped into the hive's storage) BEE WORKER 1#: (Honey overflows from the cup) Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! : - I think we need to shut down! =BEE WORKER #2= - Shut down? We've never shut down. : Shut down honey production! DEAN BUZZWELL: Stop making honey! (The bees all leave their stations. Two bees run into a room and they put the keys into a machine) Turn your key, sir! (Two worker bees dramatically turn their keys, which opens the button which they press, shutting down the honey-making machines.

This is the first time this has ever happened) BEE: ...What do we do now? (Flash forward in time and a Bee is about to jump into a pool full of honey) Cannonball! (The bee gets stuck in the honey and we get a short montage of Bees leaving work) (We see the Pollen Jocks flying but one of them gets a call on his antenna) LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") We're shutting honey production! : Mission abort. POLLEN JOCK #1: Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. (The Pollen Jocks fly back to the hive) (We get a time lapse of Central Park slowly wilting away as the bees all relax) BARRY: Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. ADAM: Oh, yeah?

BARRY: What's going on? Where is everybody? (The entire street is deserted) : - Are they out celebrating? ADAM: - They're home. : They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. : I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. BARRY: At least we got our honey back. ADAM: Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? : It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. : This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. : And now... : Now I can't. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to Vanessa) BARRY: I don't understand why they're not happy. : I thought their lives would be better! : They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people.

VANESSA: You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? BARRY: - What did you want to show me? (Vanessa takes Barry to the rooftop where they first had coffee and points to her store) VANESSA: - This. (Points at her flowers. They are all grey and wilting) BARRY: What happened here? VANESSA: That is not the half of it. (Small flash forward in time and Vanessa and Barry are on the roof of her store and she points to Central Park) (We see that Central Park is no longer green and colorful, rather it is grey, brown, and dead-like. It is very depressing to look at) BARRY: Oh, no. Oh, my. : They're all wilting. VANESSA: Doesn't look very good, does it? BARRY: No. VANESSA: And whose fault do you think that is? BARRY: You know, I'm gonna guess bees. VANESSA== (Staring at Barry) Bees? BARRY: Specifically, me. : I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. VANESSA: It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. BARRY: That's our whole SAT test right there.

VANESSA: Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. : And then, of course... BARRY: The human species? : So if there's no more pollination, : it could all just go south here, couldn't it? VANESSA: I know this is also partly my fault. BARRY: How about a suicide pact? VANESSA: How do we do it? BARRY: - I'll sting you, you step on me. VANESSA: - That just kills you twice. BARRY: Right, right. VANESSA: Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. (Vanessa leaves) BARRY: (To himself) I had to open my mouth and talk. : Vanessa? : Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? (Vanessa is getting into a taxi) VANESSA: To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. : They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. : It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it.

BARRY: Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. VANESSA: I know. Me neither. (The taxi starts to drive away) BARRY: Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. : Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? : Roses! : Vanessa! (Barry flies after the Taxi) VANESSA: Roses?! : Barry? (Barry is flying outside the window of the taxi) BARRY: - Roses are flowers! VANESSA: - Yes, they are. BARRY: Flowers, bees, pollen! VANESSA: I know. That's why this is the last parade. BARRY: Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? VANESSA: Could you slow down? (The taxi driver screeches to a stop and Barry keeps flying forward) : Barry! (Barry flies back to the window) BARRY: OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. VANESSA: Yes, it kind of is. BARRY: I've ruined the planet.

I wanted to help you : with the flower shop. I've made it worse. VANESSA: Actually, it's completely closed down. BARRY: I thought maybe you were remodeling. : But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. VANESSA: I don't want to hear it! BARRY: All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. : I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. : All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. : - Bees. VANESSA: - Park. BARRY: - Pollen! VANESSA: - Flowers. BARRY: - Re-pollination! VANESSA: - Across the nation! : Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. : They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. : Security will be tight. BARRY: I have an idea. (Flash forward in time. Vanessa is about to board a plane which has all the Roses on board. VANESSA: Vanessa Bloome, FTD. (Holds out badge) : Official floral business. It's real. SECURITY

GUARD: Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. =VANESSA== Thank you. It was a gift. (Barry is revealed to be hiding inside the brooch) (Flash back in time and Barry and Vanessa are discussing their plan) BARRY: Once inside, we just pick the right float. VANESSA: How about The Princess and the Pea? : I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! BARRY: Yes, I got it. : - Where should I sit? GUARD: - What are you? BARRY: - I believe I'm the pea. GUARD: - The pea? VANESSA: It goes under the mattresses. GUARD: - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. VANESSA: You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! : Let's see what this baby'll do. (Vanessa drives the float through traffic) GUARD: Hey, what are you doing?! BARRY== Then all we do is blend in with traffic... : ...without arousing suspicion. : Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are about to get on a plane) SECURITY GUARD: Stop! Security. : - You and your insect pack your float? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Has it been in your possession the entire time? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Would you remove your shoes? (To Barry) - Remove your stinger. BARRY: - It's part of me. SECURITY GUARD: I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. (Barry plotting with Vanessa) BARRY: Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are flying on the plane) Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! VANESSA: I think this is gonna work. BARRY: It's got to work.

CAPTAIN SCOTT: (On intercom) Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. : We have a bit of bad weather in New York. : It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. VANESSA: Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. BARRY: I gotta get up there and talk to them. VANESSA== Be careful. (Barry flies right outside the cockpit door) BARRY: Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. (The flight attendant opens the door and walks out and Barry flies into the cockpit unseen) BARRY: Captain, I'm in a real situation. CAPTAIN SCOTT: - What'd you say, Hal? CO-PILOT HAL: - Nothing. (Scott notices Barry and freaks out) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Bee! BARRY: No,no,no, Don't freak out! My entire species... (Captain Scott gets out of his seat and tries to suck Barry into a handheld vacuum)

HAL: (To Scott) What are you doing? (Barry lands on Hals hair but Scott sees him. He tries to suck up Barry but instead he sucks up Hals toupee) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Uh-oh. BARRY: - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! HAL: (Hal doesn't know Barry is on his head) - Who's an attorney? CAPTAIN SCOTT: Don't move. (Scott hits Hal in the face with the vacuum in an attempt to hit Barry. Hal is knocked out and he falls on the life raft button which launches an infalatable boat into Scott, who gets knocked out and falls to the floor. They are both uncounscious.) BARRY: (To himself) Oh, Barry. BARRY: (On intercom, with a Southern accent) Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. : Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? (Vanessa looks confused) (Normal accent) ...And please hurry! (Vanessa opens the door and sees the life raft and the uncounscious pilots) VANESSA: What happened here? BARRY: I tried to talk to them, but then there was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. : Now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious!

VANESSA: ...Is that another bee joke? BARRY: - No! : No one's flying the plane! BUD DITCHWATER: (Through radio on plane) This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? VANESSA: This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. BUD: Where's the pilot? VANESSA: He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. BUD: Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? BARRY: As a matter of fact, there is. BUD: - Who's that? BARRY: - Barry Benson. BUD: From the honey trial?! Oh, great. BARRY: Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. : It's got giant wings, huge engines. VANESSA: I can't fly a plane. BARRY: - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? VANESSA: - Yes. BARRY: How hard could it be? (Vanessa sits down and flies for a little bit but we see lightning clouds outside the window) VANESSA: Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. (An ominous lightning storm looms in front of the plane) (We are now watching the Bee News) BOB BUMBLE: This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, : where a suspenseful scene is developing. : Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory...

ADAM: That's Barry! BOB BUMBLE: ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers : and an incapacitated flight crew. JANET, MARTIN, UNCLE CAR AND ADAM: Flowers?! (The scene switches to the human news) REPORTER: (Talking with Bob Bumble) We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls : with absolutely no flight experience. BOB BUMBLE: Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. BUD: I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. : They've done enough damage. REPORTER: But isn't he your only hope? BUD: Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. : Their wings are too small... BARRY: (Through radio) Haven't we heard this a million times? : "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense."... BOB BUMBLE: - Get this on the air!

BEE: - Got it. BEE NEWS CREW: - Stand by. BEE NEWS CREW: - We're going live! BARRY: (Through radio on TV) ...The way we work may be a mystery to you. : Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. : But let me tell you about a small job. : If you do it well, it makes a big difference. : More than we realized. To us, to everyone. : That's why I want to get bees back to working together. : That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. : We get behind a fellow. : - Black and yellow! BEES: - Hello! (The scene switches and Barry is teaching Vanessa how to fly) BARRY: Left, right, down, hover. VANESSA: - Hover? BARRY: - Forget hover. VANESSA: This isn't so hard. (Pretending to honk the horn) Beep-beep! Beep-beep! (A Lightning bolt hits the plane and autopilot turns off) Barry, what happened?! BARRY: Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time.

VANESSA: - That may have been helping me. BARRY: - And now we're not! VANESSA: So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. (The plane plummets but we see Lou Lu Duva and the Pollen Jocks, along with multiple other bees flying towards the plane) Lou Lu DUva: All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! : Move out! (The scene switches back to Vanessa and Barry in the plane) BARRY: Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! (Barry sticks out his arms like an airplane and flys in front of Vanessa's face) VANESSA: Don't have to yell. BARRY: I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. VANESSA: It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! BARRY: It's not a tone. I'm panicking! VANESSA: I can't do this! (Barry slaps Vanessa) BARRY: Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! VANESSA: (Slaps Barry) You snap out of it. BARRY: (Slaps Vanessa) : You snap out of it.

VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! (We see that all the Pollen Jocks are flying under the plane) VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - Hold it! BARRY: - Why? Come on, it's my turn. VANESSA: How is the plane flying? (The plane is now safely flying) VANESSA: I don't know. (Barry's antennae rings like a phone. Barry picks up) BARRY: Hello? LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? (All of the Pollen Jocks are carrying the plane) BARRY: The Pollen Jocks! : They do get behind a fellow. LOU LU DUVA: - Black and yellow. POLLEN JOCKS: - Hello. LOU LU DUVA: All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. BARRY: Where? I can't see anything. Can you? VANESSA: No, nothing. It's all cloudy. : Come on. You got to think bee, Barry.

BARRY: - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. (On the runway there are millions of bees laying on their backs) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. VANESSA: - What? BARRY: - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. : Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. : Bring the nose down. BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR: - What in the world is on the tarmac? BUD: - Get some lights on that! (It is revealed that all the bees are organized into a giant pulsating flower formation) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: - Vanessa, aim for the flower. VANESSA: - OK. BARRY: Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys?

LOU LU DUVA: Affirmative! BARRY: Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. : Land on that flower! : Ready? Full reverse! : Spin it around! (The plane's nose is pointed at a flower painted on a nearby plane) - Not that flower! The other one! VANESSA: - Which one? BARRY: - That flower. (The plane is now pointed at a fat guy in a flowered shirt. He freaks out and tries to take a picture of the plane) VANESSA: - I'm aiming at the flower! BARRY: That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! (The plane hovers over the bee-flower) : Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. : Rotate around it. VANESSA: - This is insane, Barry! BARRY: - This's the only way I know how to fly. BUD: Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? (The plane is unrealistically hovering and spinning over the bee-flower) BARRY: Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! : Just drop it. Be a part of it. : Aim for the center! : Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! : Come on, already.

(The bees scatter and the plane safely lands) VANESSA: Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! BARRY: - Yes! (Vanessa is about to high-five Barry) No high-five! VANESSA: - Right. ADAM: Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? BARRY: What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! ADAM: - Thank you. BARRY: - But we're not done yet. : Listen, everyone! : This runway is covered with the last pollen : from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. : That means this is our last chance. : We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. : If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? : Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? BEES: We're bees! BEE WHO LIKES KEYCHAINS: Keychain!

BARRY: Then follow me! Except Keychain. POLLEN JOCK #1: Hold on, Barry. Here. : You've earned this. BARRY: Yeah! : I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. (The Pollen Jocks throw Barry a nectar-collecting gun. Barry catches it) Oh, yeah. JANET: That's our Barry. (Barry and the Pollen Jocks get pollen from the flowers on the plane) (Flash forward in time and the Pollen Jocks are flying over NYC) : (Barry pollinates the flowers in Vanessa's shop and then heads to Central Park) BOY IN PARK: Mom! The bees are back! ADAM: (Putting on his Krelman hat) If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. : I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! (The bee honey factories are back up and running) (Meanwhile at Vanessa's shop) VANESSA: (To customer) Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? : Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. (There is a room in the shop where Barry does legal work for other animals. He is currently talking with a Cow) COW: Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! : Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! BARRY: I had no idea. VANESSA: Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment?

BARRY: Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. MOOSE BLOOD: Sorry I'm late. COW: He's a lawyer too? MOOSE BLOOD: Ma'am, I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. VANESSA: Have a great afternoon! : Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. BARRY: No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. VANESSA: You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? BARRY: All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. VANESSA: Thank you, Barry! (Ken walks by on the sidewalk and sees the "bee-approved honey" in Vanessa's shop) KEN: That bee is living my life!! ANDY: Let it go, Kenny. KEN: - When will this nightmare end?! ANDY: - Let it all go. BARRY: - Beautiful day to fly.

POLLEN JOCK: - Sure is. BARRY: Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. (Barry recreates the scene near the beginning of the movie where he flies through the box kite. The movie fades to black and the credits being) [--after credits; No scene can be seen but the characters can be heard talking over the credits--] You have got to start thinking bee, my friend! : - Thinking bee! - Me? BARRY: (Talking over singer) Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. : I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? SINGER: Oh, BarryBARRY: I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! SINGER: All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. BARRY: I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

i hope your bloodline suffers with hell for the next 7 generations

words can not describe how much i spite you right now for sending this to me and allowing this to happen

and yes i did read a good chunk of this for funsies :D

(also everyone should reblog this to piss of any moots that come across this)

#top secret replier #bee movie script #top secret answers

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fake-wtnv-intros · 8 months

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(Black screen with text; The sound of buzzing bees can be heard) According to all known laws of aviation, : there is no way a bee should be able to fly. : Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. : The bee, of course, flies anyway : because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. : Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! : Hang on a second. (Barry uses his antenna like a phone) : Hello? (Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: - Ow! That's me! JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry! BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we are men. ADAM: - We are! BARRY= - Bee-men. =ADAM= - Amen! BARRY AND ADAM: Hallelujah! (Barry and Adam both have a happy spasm) ANNOUNCER: Students, faculty, distinguished bees, : please welcome Dean Buzzwell. DEAN BUZZWELL: Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... : ...9: : That concludes our ceremonies. : And begins your career at Honex Industries! ADAM: Will we pick our job today? (Adam and Barry get into a tour bus) BARRY= I heard it's just orientation. (Tour buses rise out of the ground and the students are automatically loaded into the buses) TOUR GUIDE: Heads up! Here we go. ANNOUNCER: Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. BARRY: - Wonder what it'll be like? ADAM: - A little scary. TOUR GUIDE== Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco : and a part of the Hexagon Group. Barry: This is it! BARRY AND ADAM: Wow. BARRY: Wow. (The bus drives down a road an on either side are the Bee's massive complicated Honey-making machines) TOUR GUIDE: We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life : to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. : Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM== - What do you think he makes? BARRY: - Not enough. TOUR GUIDE: Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. (They pass by a turning wheel with Bees standing on pegs, who are each wearing a finger-shaped hat) Barry: - Wow, What does that do? TOUR GUIDE: - Catches that little strand of honey : that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. ADAM: (Intrigued) Can anyone work on the Krelman? TOUR GUIDE: Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. : But choose carefully : because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. (Everyone claps except for Barry) BARRY: The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. ADAM: What's the difference? TOUR GUIDE: You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off : in 27 million years. BARRY: (Upset) So you'll just work us to death? : We'll sure try. (Everyone on the bus laughs except Barry. Barry and Adam are walking back home together) ADAM: Wow! That blew my mind! BARRY: "What's the difference?" How can you say that? : One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. ADAM: I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. BARRY: But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? ADAM: Why would you question anything? We're bees. : We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away) LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them) ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! (Slaps Adam with his hand to represent his scenario) GIRL BEE #2: - Oh, my! BARRY: - I never thought I'd knock him out. GIRL BEE #1: (Looking at Adam) What were you doing during this? ADAM: Obviously I was trying to alert the authorities. BARRY: I can autograph that. (The pollen jocks walk up to Barry and Adam, they pretend that Barry and Adam really are pollen jocks.) POLLEN JOCK #1: A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? BARRY: Yeah. Gusty. POLLEN JOCK #1: We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. BARRY: - Six miles, huh? ADAM: - Barry! POLLEN JOCK #2: A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. BARRY: - Maybe I am. ADAM: - You are not! POLLEN JOCK #1: We're going 0900 at J-Gate. : What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? BARRY: I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. (The scene cuts to Barry looking out on the hive-city from his balcony at night) MARTIN: Hey, Honex! BARRY: Dad, you surprised me. MARTIN: You decide what you're interested in? BARRY: - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. : Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? MARTIN: Son, let me tell you about stirring. : You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. : You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. BARRY: You know, Dad, the more I think about it, : maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. MARTIN: You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? : That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. : Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! JANET: - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. BARRY: - I'm not trying to be funny. MARTIN: You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! JANET: - You're gonna be a stirrer? BARRY: - No one's listening to me! MARTIN: Wait till you see the sticks I have. BARRY: I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! (Barry's parents don't listen to him and continue to ramble on) MARTIN: Let's open some honey and celebrate! BARRY: Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. : Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! JANET: I'm so proud. (The scene cuts to Barry and Adam waiting in line to get a job) ADAM: - We're starting work today! BARRY: - Today's the day. ADAM: Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. BARRY: Yeah, right. JOB LISTER: Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Is it still available? JOB LISTER: - Hang on. Two left! : One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. ADAM: - What'd you get? BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Picking crud out. Stellar! (He walks away) ADAM: Wow! JOB LISTER: Couple of newbies? ADAM: Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! JOB LISTER: Make your choice. (Adam and Barry look up at the job board. There are hundreds of constantly changing panels that contain available or unavailable jobs. It looks very confusing) ADAM: - You want to go first? BARRY: - No, you go. ADAM: Oh, my. What's available? JOB LISTER: Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. ADAM: - Any chance of getting the Krelman? JOB LISTER: - Sure, you're on. (Puts the Krelman finger-hat on Adam's head) (Suddenly the sign for Krelman closes out) : I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. (Takes Adam's hat off) Wax monkey's always open. ADAM: The Krelman opened up again. : What happened? JOB LISTER: A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. : Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. : Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! ADAM: Oh, this is so hard! (Barry remembers what the Pollen Jock offered him and he flies off) Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, : humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, : mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? (Adam turns around and sees Barry flying away) : Barry! POLLEN JOCK: All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... ADAM: (Through phone) What happened to you? Where are you? BARRY: - I'm going out. ADAM: - Out? Out where? BARRY: - Out there. ADAM: - Oh, no! BARRY: I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. ADAM: You're gonna die! You're crazy! (Barry hangs up) Hello? POLLEN JOCK #2: Another call coming in. : If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd : that gets their roses today. BARRY: Hey, guys. POLLEN JOCK #1 == - Look at that. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? LOU LO DUVA: Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. POLLEN JOCK #1: It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. (Puts hand on Barry's shoulder) LOU LO DUVA: (To Barry) Really? Feeling lucky, are you? BEE WITH CLIPBOARD: (To Barry) Sign here, here. Just initial that. : - Thank you. LOU LO DUVA: - OK. : You got a rain advisory today, : and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. : So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, : hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. : Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. : Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! BARRY: - That's awful. LOU LO DUVA: (Still talking through megaphone) - And a reminder for you rookies, : bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! : All right, launch positions! POLLEN JOCKS: (The Pollen Jocks run into formation) : Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! LOU LU DUVA: Black and yellow! POLLEN JOCKS: Hello! POLLEN JOCK #1: (To Barry)You ready for this, hot shot? BARRY: Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. POLLEN JOCK's: Wind, check. : - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. : - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. BARRY: Scared out of my shorts, check. LOU LO DUVA: OK, ladies, : let's move it out! : Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! : All of you, drain those flowers! (The pollen jocks fly out of the hive) BARRY: Wow! I'm out! : I can't believe I'm out! : So blue. : I feel so fast and free! : Box kite! (Barry flies through the kite) : Wow! : Flowers! (A pollen jock puts on some high tech goggles that shows flowers similar to heat sink goggles.) POLLEN JOCK: This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. : Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. : Roses! POLLEN JOCK #1: 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. : Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. (The pollen jock fires a high-tech gun at the flower, shooting tubes that suck up the nectar from the flower and collects it into a pouch on the gun) BARRY: That is one nectar collector! POLLEN JOCK #1== - Ever see pollination up close? BARRY: - No, sir. POLLEN JOCK #1: (Barry and the Pollen jock fly over the field, the pollen jock sprinkles pollen as he goes) : I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, : a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. BARRY: That's amazing. Why do we do that? POLLEN JOCK #1: That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. BARRY: Cool. POLLEN JOCK #1: I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. could be daisies. Don't we need those? POLLEN JOCK #2: Copy that visual. : Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. POLLEN JOCK #1: Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? POLLEN JOCK #2: Affirmative. (The Pollen jocks land near the "flowers" which, to the audience are obviously just tennis balls) KEN: (In the distance) That was on the line! POLLEN JOCK #1: This is the coolest. What is it? POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't know, but I'm loving this color. : It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. POLLEN JOCK #1: Yeah, fuzzy. (Sticks his hand on the ball but it gets stuck) POLLEN JOCK #3== Chemical-y. (The pollen jock finally gets his hand free from the tennis ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. (The pollen jocks turn around and see Barry lying his entire body on top of one of the tennis balls) POLLEN JOCK #2: My sweet lord of bees! POLLEN JOCK #3: Candy-brain, get off there! POLLEN JOCK #1: (Pointing upwards) Problem! (A human hand reaches down and grabs the tennis ball that Barry is stuck to) BARRY: - Guys! POLLEN JOCK #2: - This could be bad. POLLEN JOCK #3: Affirmative. (Vanessa Bloome starts bouncing the tennis ball, not knowing Barry is stick to it) BARRY== Very close. : Gonna hurt. : Mama's little boy. (Barry is being hit back and forth by two humans playing tennis. He is still stuck to the ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: You are way out of position, rookie! KEN: Coming in at you like a MISSILE! (Barry flies past the pollen jocks, still stuck to the ball) BARRY: (In slow motion) Help me! POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't think these are flowers. POLLEN JOCK #3: - Should we tell him? POLLEN JOCK #1: - I think he knows. BARRY: What is this?! KEN: Match point! : You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to EAT IT! (A pollen jock coughs which confused Ken and he hits the ball the wrong way with Barry stuck to it and it goes flying into the city) BARRY: Yowser! (Barry bounces around town and gets stuck in the engine of a car. He flies into the air conditioner and sees a bug that was frozen in there) BARRY: Ew, gross. (The man driving the car turns on the air conditioner which blows Barry into the car) GIRL IN CAR: There's a bee in the car! : - Do something! DAD DRIVING CAR: - I'm driving! BABY GIRL: (Waving at Barry) - Hi, bee. (Barry smiles and waves at the baby girl) GUY IN BACK OF CAR: - He's back here! : He's going to sting me! GIRL IN CAR: Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! (Barry freezes as well, hovering in the middle of the car) : GRANDMA IN CAR== He blinked! (The grandma whips out some bee-spray and sprays everywhere in the car, climbing into the front seat, still trying to spray Barry) GIRL IN CAR: Spray him, Granny! DAD DRIVING THE CAR: What are you doing?! (Barry escapes the car through the air conditioner and is flying high above the ground, safe.) BARRY: Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. (Barry sees that storm clouds are gathering and he can see rain clouds moving into this direction) : I gotta get home. : Can't fly in rain. : Can't fly in rain. (A rain drop hits Barry and one of his wings is damaged) : Can't fly in rain. (A second rain drop hits Barry again and he spirals downwards) Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! (WW2 plane sound effects are played as he plummets, and he crash-lands on a plant inside an apartment near the window) VANESSA BLOOME: Ken, could you close the window please? KEN== Hey, check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. : You see? (Folds brochure resume out) Folds out. (Ken closes the window, trapping Barry inside) BARRY: Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. (Barry tries to fly away but smashes into the window and falls again) : What was that? (Barry keeps trying to fly out the window but he keeps being knocked back because the window is closed) Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... : Drapes! (Barry taps the glass. He doesn't understand what it is) That is diabolical. KEN: It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. ANDY: What's number one? Star Wars? KEN: Nah, I don't go for that... (Ken makes finger guns and makes "pew pew pew" sounds and then stops) : ...kind of stuff. BARRY: No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. KEN: When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. BARRY: (Looking at the light on the ceiling) There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. (Starts flying towards the lightbulb) : I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. (Barry hits the lightbulb and falls into the dip on the table that the humans are sitting at) KEN: I predicted global warming. : I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. (Andy dips a chip into the bowl and scoops up some dip with Barry on it and is about to put it in his mouth) : Wait! Stop! Bee! (Andy drops the chip with Barry in fear and backs away. All the humans freak out) : Stand back. These are winter boots. (Ken has winter boots on his hands and he is about to smash the bee but Vanessa saves him last second) VANESSA: Wait! : Don't kill him! (Vanessa puts Barry in a glass to protect him) KEN: You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! VANESSA: Why does his life have less value than yours? KEN: Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? VANESSA: I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. (Vanessa picks up Ken's brochure and puts it under the glass so she can carry Barry back to the window. Barry looks at Vanessa in amazement) KEN: My brochure! VANESSA: There you go, little guy. (Vanessa opens the window and lets Barry out but Barry stays back and is still shocked that a human saved his life) KEN: I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. VANESSA: Put that on your resume brochure. KEN: My whole face could puff up. ANDY: Make it one of your special skills. KEN: Knocking someone out is also a special skill. (Ken walks to the door) Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. : - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? VANESSA: - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. : (Vanessa tries to close door) KEN== - You could put carob chips on there. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door but Ken opens it again) KEN: - Supposed to be less calories. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door) (Fast forward to the next day, Barry is still inside the house. He flies into the kitchen where Vanessa is doing dishes) BARRY== (Talking to himself) I gotta say something. : She saved my life. I gotta say something. : All right, here it goes. (Turns back) Nah. : What would I say? : I could really get in trouble. : It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. : I can't believe I'm doing this. : I've got to. (Barry disguises himself as a character on a food can as Vanessa walks by again) : Oh, I can't do it. Come on! : No. Yes. No. : Do it. I can't. : How should I start it? (Barry strikes a pose and wiggles his eyebrows) "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. (Vanessa is about to walk past Barry) Here she comes! Speak, you fool! : ...Hi! (Vanessa gasps and drops the dishes in fright and notices Barry on the counter) : I'm sorry. VANESSA: - You're talking. BARRY: - Yes, I know. VANESSA: (Pointing at Barry) You're talking! BARRY: I'm so sorry. VANESSA: No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. : But I don't recall going to bed. BARRY: Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. VANESSA: This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! BARRY: I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, (Pointing to the living room where Ken tried to kill him last night) but they were all trying to kill me. : And if it wasn't for you... : I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. (Vanessa stabs her hand with a fork to test whether she's dreaming or not) : That was a little weird. VANESSA: - I'm talking with a bee. BARRY: - Yeah. VANESSA: I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! BARRY: I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. (Barry turns to leave) VANESSA: - Wait! How did you learn to do that? BARRY: (Flying back) - What? VANESSA: The talking...thing. BARRY: Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. VANESSA: - That's very funny. BARRY: - Yeah. : Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. : Anyway... VANESSA: Can I... : ...get you something? BARRY: - Like what? VANESSA: I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? BARRY: I don't want to put you out. VANESSA: It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. : - It's just coffee. BARRY: - I hate to impose. (Vanessa starts making coffee) VANESSA: - Don't be ridiculous! BARRY: - Actually, I would love a cup. VANESSA: Hey, you want rum cake? BARRY: - I shouldn't. VANESSA: - Have some. BARRY: - No, I can't. VANESSA: - Come on! BARRY: I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. VANESSA: - Where? BARRY: - These stripes don't help. VANESSA: You look great! BARRY: I don't know if you know anything about fashion. : Are you all right? VANESSA: (Pouring coffee on the floor and missing the cup completely) No. (Flash forward in time. Barry and Vanessa are sitting together at a table on top of the apartment building drinking coffee) : BARRY== He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. : He finally gets there. : He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. : And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. : Why would I marry a watermelon?" (Barry laughs but Vanessa looks confused) VANESSA: Is that a bee joke? BARRY: That's the kind of stuff we do. VANESSA: Yeah, different. : So, what are you gonna do, Barry? (Barry stands on top of a sugar cube floating in his coffee and paddles it around with a straw like it's a gondola) BARRY: About work? I don't know. : I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. VANESSA: I know how you feel. BARRY: - You do? VANESSA: - Sure. : My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. BARRY: - Really? VANESSA: - My only interest is flowers. BARRY: Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. : Anyway, if you look... (Barry points to a tree in the middle of Central Park) : There's my hive right there. See it? VANESSA: You're in Sheep Meadow! BARRY: Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! VANESSA: No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. BARRY: - Why do girls put rings on their toes? VANESSA: - Why not? BARRY: - It's like putting a hat on your knee. VANESSA: - Maybe I'll try that. (A custodian installing a lightbulb looks over at them but to his perspective it looks like Vanessa is talking to a cup of coffee on the table) CUSTODIAN: - You all right, ma'am? VANESSA: - Oh, yeah. Fine. : Just having two cups of coffee! BARRY: Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. VANESSA== Yeah, it's no trouble. BARRY: Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. (Barry points towards the rum cake) : Can I take a piece of this with me? VANESSA: Sure! Here, have a crumb. (Vanessa hands Barry a crumb but it is still pretty big for Barry) BARRY: - Thanks! VANESSA: - Yeah. BARRY: All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. : Or not. VANESSA: OK, Barry... BARRY: And thank you so much again... for before. VANESSA: Oh, that? That was nothing. BARRY: Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... (Vanessa and Barry hold hands, but Vanessa has to hold out a finger because her hands is to big and Barry holds that) (The custodian looks over again and it appears Vanessa is laughing at her coffee again. The lightbulb that he was screwing in sparks and he falls off the ladder) (Fast forward in time and we see two Bee Scientists testing out a parachute in a Honex wind tunnel) BEE SCIENTIST #1: This can't possibly work. BEE SCIENTIST #2: He's all set to go. We may as well try it. : OK, Dave, pull the chute. (Dave pulls the chute and the wind slams him against the wall and he falls on his face.The camera pans over and we see Barry and Adam walking together) ADAM: - Sounds amazing. BARRY: - It was amazing! : It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. ADAM: Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! : Giant, scary humans! What were they like? BARRY: Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. : They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. ADAM: - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? BARRY: - Some of them. But some of them don't. ADAM: - How'd you get back? BARRY: - Poodle. ADAM: You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. : You had your "experience." Now you can pick out your job and be normal. BARRY: - Well... ADAM: - Well? BARRY: Well, I met someone. ADAM: You did? Was she Bee-ish? : - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! BARRY: - No, no, no, not a wasp. ADAM: - Spider? BARRY: - I'm not attracted to spiders. : I know, for everyone else, it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. : I can't get by that face. ADAM: So who is she? BARRY: She's... human. ADAM: No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. BARRY: - Her name's Vanessa. (Adam puts his head in his hands) ADAM: - Oh, boy. BARRY== She's so nice. And she's a florist! ADAM: Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! BARRY: We're not dating. ADAM: You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes : with power washers and M-80s! That's one-eighth a stick of dynamite! BARRY: She saved my life! And she understands me. ADAM: This is over! BARRY: Eat this. (Barry gives Adam a piece of the crumb that he got from Vanessa. Adam eats it) ADAM: (Adam's tone changes) This is not over! What was that? BARRY: - They call it a crumb. ADAM: - It was so stingin' stripey! BARRY: And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! : - You know what a Cinnabon is? ADAM: - No. (Adam opens a door behind him and he pulls Barry in) BARRY: It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. ADAM: Be quiet! BARRY: They heat it up... ADAM: Sit down! (Adam forces Barry to sit down) BARRY: (Still rambling about Cinnabons) ...really hot! (Adam grabs Barry by the shoulders) ADAM: - Listen to me! : We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! BARRY== Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? ADAM: There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! : You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! BARRY: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEE: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEES AND ADAM: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! (Flash forward in time; Barry is laying on a raft in a pool full of honey. He is wearing sunglasses) JANET: There he is. He's in the pool. MARTIN: You know what your problem is, Barry? (Barry pulls down his sunglasses and he looks annoyed) BARRY: (Sarcastic) I gotta start thinking bee? JANET: How much longer will this go on? MARTIN: It's been three days! Why aren't you working? (Puts sunglasses back on) BARRY: I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. MARTIN: What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! JANET: Would it kill you to make a little honey? (Barry rolls off the raft and sinks into the honey pool) : Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. : Martin, would you talk to him? MARTIN: Barry, I'm talking to you! (Barry keeps sinking into the honey until he is suddenly in Central Park having a picnic with Vanessa) (Barry has a cup of honey and he clinks his glass with Vanessas. Suddenly a mosquito lands on Vanessa and she slaps it, killing it. They both gasp but then burst out laughing) VANESSA: You coming? (The camera pans over and Vanessa is climbing into a small yellow airplane) BARRY: Got everything? VANESSA: All set! BARRY: Go ahead. I'll catch up. (Vanessa lifts off and flies ahead) VANESSA: Don't be too long. (Barry catches up with Vanessa and he sticks out his arms like ana irplane. He rolls from side to side, and Vanessa copies him with the airplane) VANESSA: Watch this! (Barry stays back and watches as Vanessa draws a heart in the air using pink smoke from the plane, but on the last loop-the-loop she suddenly crashes into a mountain and the plane explodes. The destroyed plane falls into some rocks and explodes a second time) BARRY: Vanessa! (As Barry is yelling his mouth fills with honey and he wakes up, discovering that he was just day dreaming. He slowly sinks back into the honey pool) MARTIN: - We're still here. JANET: - I told you not to yell at him. : He doesn't respond to yelling! MARTIN: - Then why yell at me? JANET: - Because you don't listen! MARTIN: I'm not listening to this. BARRY: Sorry, I've gotta go. MARTIN: - Where are you going? BARRY: - I'm meeting a friend. JANET: A girl? Is this why you can't decide? BARRY: Bye. (Barry flies out the door and Martin shakes his head) : JANET== I just hope she's Bee-ish. (Fast forward in time and Barry is sitting on Vanessa's shoulder and she is closing up her shop) BARRY: They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? VANESSA: To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! : Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. BARRY: A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? VANESSA: No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? BARRY: It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. VANESSA: Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. BARRY: TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! VANESSA: You don't have that? BARRY: We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. VANESSA: Oh, my. (A human walks by and Barry narrowly avoids him) PASSERBY: Dumb bees! VANESSA: You must want to sting all those jerks. BARRY: We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. VANESSA: So you have to watch your temper (They walk into a store) BARRY: Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, : write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: : Anger, jealousy, lust. (Suddenly an employee(Hector) hits Barry off of Vanessa's shoulder. Hector thinks he's saving Vanessa) VANESSA: (To Barry) Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? (Barry is getting up off the floor) BARRY: Yeah. VANESSA: (To Hector) - What is wrong with you?! HECTOR: (Confused) - It's a bug. VANESSA: He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! (Vanessa hits Hector across the face with the magazine he had and then hits him in the head. Hector backs away covering his head) Barry: What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? (Vanessa sets Barry back on her shoulder) VANESSA: Yeah, it was. How did you know? BARRY: It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. VANESSA: You've really got that down to a science. BARRY: - Oh, we have to. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. VANESSA: - I'll bet. (Barry looks to his right and notices there is honey for sale in the aisle) BARRY: What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? (Barry looks at all the brands of honey, shocked) How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, : Ray Liotta Private Select? (Barry puts his hands up and slowly turns around, a look of disgust on his face) VANESSA: - Is he that actor? BARRY: - I never heard of him. : - Why is this here? VANESSA: - For people. We eat it. BARRY: You don't have enough food of your own?! (Hector looks back and notices that Vanessa is talking to Barry) VANESSA: - Well, yes. BARRY: - How do you get it? VANESSA: - Bees make it. BARRY: - I know who makes it! : And it's hard to make it! : There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! VANESSA: - It's organic. BARRY: - It's our-ganic! VANESSA: It's just honey, Barry. BARRY: Just what?! : Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! : You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! : And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. : I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! (Flash forward in time; Barry paints his face with black strikes like a soldier and sneaks into the storage section of the store) (Two men, including Hector, are loading boxes into some trucks) : SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE== Hey, Hector. : - You almost done? HECTOR: - Almost. (Barry takes a step to peak around the corner) (Whispering) He is here. I sense it. : Well, I guess I'll go home now (Hector pretends to walk away by walking in place and speaking loudly) : and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. BARRY: You're busted, box boy! HECTOR: I knew I heard something! So you can talk! BARRY: I can talk. And now you'll start talking! : Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? HECTOR: I don't understand. I thought we were friends. : The last thing we want to do is upset bees! (Hector takes a thumbtack out of the board behind him and sword-fights Barry. Barry is using his stinger like a sword) : You're too late! It's ours now! BARRY: You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! HECTOR: You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! (Barry hits the thumbtack out of Hectors hand and Hector surrenders) Barry: Where is the honey coming from? : Tell me where! HECTOR: (Pointing to leaving truck) Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! (Barry chases after the truck but it is getting away. He flies onto a bicyclists' backpack and he catches up to the truck) CAR DRIVER: (To bicyclist) Crazy person! (Barry flies off and lands on the windshield of the Honey farms truck. Barry looks around and sees dead bugs splattered everywhere) BARRY: What horrible thing has happened here? : These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now : they're on the road to nowhere! (Barry hears a sudden whisper) (Barry looks up and sees Mooseblood, a mosquito playing dead) MOOSEBLOOD: Just keep still. BARRY: What? You're not dead? MOOSEBLOOD: Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? BARRY: To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. MOOSEBLOOD: I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! ANOTHER BUG PLAYING DEAD: I'm going to Tacoma. (Barry looks at another bug) BARRY: - And you? MOOSEBLOOD: - He really is dead. BARRY: All right. (Another bug hits the windshield and the drivers notice. They activate the windshield wipers) MOOSEBLOOD== Uh-oh! (The windshield wipers are slowly sliding over the dead bugs and wiping them off) BARRY: - What is that?! MOOSEBLOOD: - Oh, no! : - A wiper! Triple blade! BARRY: - Triple blade? MOOSEBLOOD: Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! (Mooseblood and Barry grab onto the wiper and they hold on as it wipes the windshield) Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! : How much do you people need to see?! (Bangs on windshield) : Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! RADIO IN TRUCK: From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. MOOSEBLOOD: But don't kill no more bugs! (Mooseblood and Barry are washed off by the wipr fluid) MOOSEBLOOD: - Bee! BARRY: - Moose blood guy!! (Barry starts screaming as he hangs onto the antenna) (Suddenly it is revealed that a water bug is also hanging on the antenna. There is a pause and then Barry and the water bug both start screaming) TRUCK DRIVER: - You hear something? GUY IN TRUCK: - Like what? TRUCK DRIVER: Like tiny screaming. GUY IN TRUCK: Turn off the radio. (The antenna starts to lower until it gets to low and sinks into the truck. The water bug flies off and Barry is forced to let go and he is blown away. He luckily lands inside a horn on top of the truck where he finds Mooseblood, who was blown into the same place) MOOSEBLOOD: Whassup, bee boy? BARRY: Hey, Blood. (Fast forward in time and we see that Barry is deep in conversation with Mooseblood. They have been sitting in this truck for a while) BARRY: ...Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. MOOSEBLOOD: Wow! BARRY: I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. : I mean, that honey's ours. MOOSEBLOOD: - Bees hang tight. BARRY: - We're all jammed in. : It's a close community. MOOSEBLOOD: Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. BARRY: - What if you get in trouble? MOOSEBLOOD: - You a mosquito, you in trouble. : Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! BARRY: At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. MOOSEBLOOD: Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. : Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. (An ambulance passes by and it has a blood donation sign on it) You got to be kidding me! : Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! (Mooseblood leaves and flies onto the window of the ambulance where there are other mosquito's hanging out) : - Hey, guys! OTHER MOSQUITO: - Mooseblood! MOOSEBLOOD: I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? (The truck goes out of view and Barry notices that the truck he's on is pulling into a camp of some sort) TRUCK DRIVER: We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. (Barry flies out) BARRY: What is this place? BEEKEEPER 1#: A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. BEEKEEPER #2: They are pinheads! : Pinhead. : - Check out the new smoker. BEEKEEPER #1: - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. : The Thomas 3000! BARRY: Smoker? BEEKEEPER #1: Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. : A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. BEEKEEPER #2: They make the honey, and we make the money. BARRY: "They make the honey, and we make the money"? (The Beekeeper sprays hundreds of cheap miniature apartments with the smoker. The bees are fainting or passing out) Oh, my! : What's going on? Are you OK? (Barry flies into one of the apartment and helps a Bee couple get off the ground. They are coughing and its hard for them to stand) BEE IN APARTMENT: Yeah. It doesn't last too long. BARRY: Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? BEE IN APPARTMENT: Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. (The apartment room is completely empty except for a photo on the wall of the "queen" who is obviously a man in women's clothes) BARRY: This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! : That's a drag queen! : What is this? (Barry flies out and he discovers that there are hundreds of these structures, each housing thousands of Bees) Oh, no! : There's hundreds of them! (Barry takes out his camera and takes pictures of these Bee work camps. The beekeepers look very evil in these depictions) Bee honey. : Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! : This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. (Flash forward in time and Barry is showing these pictures to his parents) JANET: Oh, Barry, stop. MARTIN: Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. BARRY: Do these look like rumors? (Holds up the pictures) UNCLE CARL: That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. JANET: How did you get mixed up in this? ADAM: He's been talking to humans. JANET: - What? MARTIN: - Talking to humans?! ADAM: He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! JANET: Make out? Barry! BARRY: We do not. ADAM: - You wish you could. MARTIN: - Whose side are you on? BARRY: The bees! UNCLE CARL: (He has been sitting in the back of the room this entire time) I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. JANET: Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? BARRY: I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! : Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked : your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. JANET: I remember that. BARRY: What right do they have to our honey? : We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! ADAM: Even if it's true, what can one bee do? BARRY: Sting them where it really hurts. MARTIN: In the face! The eye! : - That would hurt. BARRY: - No. MARTIN: Up the nose? That's a killer. BARRY: There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. (Flash forward a bit in time and we are watching the Bee News) BEE NEWS NARRATOR: Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. BEE PROTESTOR: No more bee beards! BEE NEWS NARRATOR: With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. : Weather with Storm Stinger. : Sports with Buzz Larvi. : And Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. JEANETTE CHUNG: - And I'm Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, : intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, : packaging it and profiting from it illegally! JEANETTE CHUNG: Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, : we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, : Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. (The scene changes to an interview on the news with Bee version of Larry King and Barry) BEE LARRY KING: Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. : Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? BARRY: Bees have never been afraid to change the world. : What about Bee Columbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? BEE LARRY KING: Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. : We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. BARRY: How old are you? BEE LARRY KING: The bee community is supporting you in this case, : which will be the trial of the bee century. BARRY: You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. BEE LARRY KING: It's a common name. Next week... BARRY: He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... BEE LARRY KING: Next week... BARRY: Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. BEE LARRY KING: Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here, live. (Bee Larry King gets annoyed and flies away offscreen) BARRY: Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. (Flash forward in time. We see Vanessa enter and Ken enters behind her. They are arguing) KEN: In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! VANESSA: It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. KEN== Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? BARRY: (To Ken) Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. KEN: (Pointing at Barry) - Is that that same bee? VANESSA: - Yes, it is! : I'm helping him sue the human race. BARRY: - Hello. KEN: - Hello, bee. VANESSA: This is Ken. BARRY: (Recalling the "Winter Boots" incident earlier) Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. KEN: (To Vanessa) Why does he talk again? VANESSA: Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. KEN: But it's our yogurt night! VANESSA: (Holding door open for Ken) Bye-bye. KEN: (Yelling) Why is yogurt night so difficult?! (Ken leaves and Vanessa walks over to Barry. His workplace is a mess) VANESSA: You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! BARRY: Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. ADAM: - Frosting... - How many sugars? ==BARRY== Just one. I try not to use the competition. : So why are you helping me? VANESSA: Bees have good qualities. : And it takes my mind off the shop. : Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. BARRY: Those are great, if you're three. VANESSA: And artificial flowers. BARRY: - Oh, those just get me psychotic! VANESSA: - Yeah, me too. : BARRY: Bent stingers, pointless pollination. ADAM: Bees must hate those fake things! : Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. : Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. VANESSA: - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. BARRY: - I guess. ADAM: You sure you want to go through with it? BARRY: Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able : to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! (Flash forward in time and we are watching the human news. The camera shows a crowd outside a courthouse) NEWS REPORTER: It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, : where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, : we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. (We are no longer watching through a news camera) ADAM: What have we gotten into here, Barry? BARRY: It's pretty big, isn't it? ADAM== (Looking at the hundreds of people around the courthouse) I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. BARRY: You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? SECURITY GUARD: Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. (A limousine drives up and a fat man,Layton Montgomery, a honey industry owner gets out and walks past Barry) ADAM: - What's the matter? BARRY: - I don't know, I just got a chill. (Fast forward in time and everyone is in the court) MONTGOMERY: Well, if it isn't the bee team. (To Honey Industry lawyers) You boys work on this? MAN: All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. JUDGE BUMBLETON: All right. Case number 4475, : Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry : is now in session. : Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? MONTGOMERY: A privilege. JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? (Everyone looks closely, they are waiting to see if a Bee can really talk) (Barry makes several buzzing sounds to sound like a Bee) BARRY: I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. JUDGE BUMBLBETON: Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. MONTGOMERY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, : my grandmother was a simple woman. : Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right : to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. : If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, : just think of what would it mean. : I would have to negotiate with the silkworm : for the elastic in my britches! : Talking bee! (Montgomery walks over and looks closely at Barry) : How do we know this isn't some sort of : holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? : They could be using laser beams! : Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, : he could be on steroids! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson? BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. : I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. : It's important to all bees. We invented it! : We make it. And we protect it with our lives. : Unfortunately, there are some people in this room : who think they can take it from us : 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, : you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have : but everything we are! JANET== (To Martin) I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Call your first witness. BARRY: So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. KLAUSS VANDERHAYDEN: I suppose so. BARRY: I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! KLAUSS: Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. BARRY: Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. : I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? KLAUSS: (Quietly) - No. BARRY: - I couldn't hear you. KLAUSS: - No. BARRY: - No. : Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, : it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. KLAUSS: They're very lovable creatures. : Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. BARRY: You mean like this? (The bear from Over The Hedge barges in through the back door and it is roaring and standing on its hind legs. It is thrashing its claws and people are screaming. It is being held back by a guard who has the bear on a chain) : (Pointing to the roaring bear) Bears kill bees! : How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! : Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! JUDGE BUMBLETON: OK, that's enough. Take him away. (The bear stops roaring and thrashing and walks out) BARRY: So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. : - Where have I heard it before? MR. STING: - I was with a band called The Police. BARRY: But you've never been a police officer, have you? STING: No, I haven't. BARRY: No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example : of bee culture casually stolen by a human : for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. STING: Oh, please. BARRY: Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? : Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. : Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! MONTGOMERY: That's not his real name?! You idiots! BARRY: Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on : your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. RAY LIOTTA: Thank you. Thank you. BARRY: I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome : with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. RAY LIOTTA: I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? BARRY: Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? : Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't : have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? RAY LIOTTA: Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! BARRY: This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! (Ray Liotta looses it and tries to grab Barry) RAY LIOTTA: Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! JUDGE BUMBLETON: - Order in this court! RAY LIOTTA: - You're all thinking it! (Judge Bumbleton starts banging her gavel) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Order! Order, I say! RAY LIOTTA: - Say it! MAN: - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! (We see a montage of magazines which feature the court case) (Flash forward in time and Barry is back home with Vanessa) BARRY: I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. VANESSA: I think the jury's on our side. BARRY: Are we doing everything right,you know, legally? VANESSA: I'm a florist. BARRY: Right. Well, here's to a great team. VANESSA: To a great team! (Ken walks in from work. He sees Barry and he looks upset when he sees Barry clinking his glass with Vanessa) KEN: Well, hello. VANESSA: - Oh, Ken! BARRY: - Hello! VANESSA: I didn't think you were coming. : No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... (Ken holds up his phone and flips it open. The phone has no charge) ...the battery... VANESSA: I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. KEN: Oh, that was lucky. (Ken sits down at the table across from Barry and Vanessa leaves the room) VANESSA: There's a little left. I could heat it up. KEN: (Not taking his eyes off Barry) Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. BARRY: So I hear you're quite a tennis player. : I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. KEN: That's where I usually sit. Right... (Points to where Barry is sitting) there. VANESSA: (Calling from other room) Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, : and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. KEN: (To Barry) You think I don't see what you're doing? BARRY: I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common. KEN: Do we? BARRY: Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. KEN: (Menacingly) That's just what I was thinking about doing. (Ken reaches for a fork on the table but knocks if on the floor. He goes to pick it up) VANESSA: Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. (Ken quickly rises back up after hearing this but hits his head on the table and yells) BARRY: I'm going to drain the old stinger. KEN: Yeah, you do that. (Barry flies past Ken to get to the bathroom and Ken freaks out, splashing some of the wine he was using to cool his head in his eyes. He yells in anger) (Barry looks at the magazines featuring his victories in court) BARRY: Look at that. (Barry flies into the bathroom) (He puts his hand on his head but this makes hurts him and makes him even madder. He yells again) (Barry is washing his hands in the sink but then Ken walks in) KEN: You know, you know I've just about had it (Closes bathroom door behind him) with your little mind games. (Ken is menacingly rolling up a magazine) BARRY: (Backing away) - What's that? KEN: - Italian Vogue. BARRY: Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. KEN: It's a lot of ads. BARRY: Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? KEN: That's funny, I just can't seem to recall that! (Ken smashes everything off the sink with the magazine and Barry narrowly escapes) (Ken follows Barry around and tries to hit him with the magazine but he keeps missing) (Ken gets a spray bottle) : I think something stinks in here! BARRY: (Enjoying the spray) I love the smell of flowers. (Ken holds a lighter in front of the spray bottle) KEN: How do you like the smell of flames?! BARRY: Not as much. (Ken fires his make-shift flamethrower but misses Barry, burning the bathroom. He torches the whole room but looses his footing and falls into the bathtub. After getting hit in the head by falling objects 3 times he picks up the shower head, revealing a Water bug hiding under it) WATER BUG: Water bug! Not taking sides! (Barry gets up out of a pile of bathroom supplies and he is wearing a chapstick hat) BARRY: Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! (Ken switches the shower head to lethal) KEN: I've got issues! (Ken sprays Barry with the shower head and he crash lands into the toilet) (Ken menacingly looks down into the toilet at Barry) Well, well, well, a royal flush! BARRY: - You're bluffing. KEN: - Am I? (flushes toilet) (Barry grabs a chapstick from the toilet seat and uses it to surf in the flushing toilet) BARRY: Surf's up, dude! (Barry flies out of the toilet on the chapstick and sprays Ken's face with the toilet water) : EW,Poo water! BARRY: That bowl is gnarly. KEN: (Aiming a toilet cleaner at Barry) Except for those dirty yellow rings! (Barry cowers and covers his head and Vanessa runs in and takes the toilet cleaner from Ken just before he hits Barry) VANESSA: Kenneth! What are you doing?! KEN== (Leaning towards Barry) You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! VANESSA: We need to talk! (Vanessa pulls Ken out of the bathroom) : He's just a little bee! : And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! KEN: Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? VANESSA: No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! KEN: Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... : My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! VANESSA: Goodbye, Ken. (Ken huffs and walks out and slams the door. But suddenly he walks back in and stares at Barry) : And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners MADE BY MAN! (Ken leaves again and Vanessa leans in towards Barry) VANESSA: I'm sorry about all that. (Ken walks back in again) KEN: I know it's got an aftertaste! I LIKE IT! (Ken leaves for the last time) VANESSA: I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. : I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. : Are you OK for the trial? BARRY: I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. (Flash forward in time and Barry, Adam, and Vanessa are back in court) MONTGOMERY-- We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. ADAM: Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... (Barry stares at Adam) ...Yeah. LAWYER: Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. MONTGOMERY: Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around : is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. (To lawyer) - You got the tweezers? LAWYER: - Are you allergic? MONTGOMERY: Only to losing, son. Only to losing. : Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. : What exactly is your relationship (Points to Vanessa) : to that woman? BARRY: We're friends. MONTGOMERY: - Good friends? BARRY: - Yes. MONTGOMERY: How good? Do you live together? ADAM: Wait a minute... : MONTGOMERY: Are you her little... : ...bedbug? (Adam's stinger starts vibrating. He is agitated) I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, : doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? BARRY: - Yeah, but... MONTGOMERY: (Pointing at Janet and Martin) - So those aren't your real parents! JANET: - Oh, Barry... BARRY: - Yes, they are! ADAM: Hold me back! (Vanessa tries to hold Adam back. He wants to sting Montgomery) MONTGOMERY: You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? ADAM: He's denouncing bees! MONTGOMERY: Don't y'all date your cousins? (Montgomery leans over on the jury stand and stares at Adam) VANESSA: - Objection! (Vanessa raises her hand to object but Adam gets free. He flies straight at Montgomery) =ADAM: - I'm going to pincushion this guy! BARRY: Adam, don't! It's what he wants! (Adam stings Montgomery in the butt and he starts thrashing around) MONTGOMERY: Oh, I'm hit!! : Oh, lordy, I am hit! JUDGE BUMBLETON: (Banging gavel) Order! Order! MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting) The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! : I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! : You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! : Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! BARRY: - Adam, stay with me. ADAM: - I can't feel my legs. MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting and throwing his body around the room) What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison : from my heaving buttocks? JUDGE BUMLBETON: I will have order in this court. Order! : Order, please! (Flash forward in time and we see a human news reporter) NEWS REPORTER: The case of the honeybees versus the human race : took a pointed turn against the bees : yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. (Adam is laying in a hospital bed and Barry flies in to see him) BARRY: - Hey, buddy. ADAM: - Hey. BARRY: - Is there much pain? ADAM: - Yeah. : I... : I blew the whole case, didn't I? BARRY: It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. ADAM: I'd be better off dead. Look at me. (A small plastic sword is replaced as Adam's stinger) They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. : Look, there's a little celery still on it. (Flicks off the celery and sighs) BARRY: What was it like to sting someone? ADAM: I can't explain it. It was all... : All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! BARRY: ...All right. ADAM: You think it was all a trap? BARRY: Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. : What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. ADAM: What will the humans do to us if they win? BARRY: I don't know. ADAM: I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. BARRY: Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! ADAM: Oh, my. (Coughs) Could you get a nurse to close that window? BARRY: - Why? ADAM: - The smoke. (We can see that two humans are smoking cigarettes outside) : Bees don't smoke. BARRY: Right. Bees don't smoke. : Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. : That's it! That's our case! ADAM: It is? It's not over? BARRY: Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. : Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. (Flash forward in time and Adam is making a paper boat in the courtroom) ADAM: And assuming you've done step 29 correctly, you're ready for the tub! (We see that the jury have each made their own paper boats after being taught how by Adam. They all look confused) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman. ADAM: Yes? Yes, Your Honor! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Where is the rest of your team? ADAM: (Continues stalling) Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. : Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, : and as a result, we don't make very good time. : I actually heard a funny story about... MONTGOMERY: Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs : taken up enough of this court's valuable time? : How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? : They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges : against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. : I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going : to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. ADAM: But you can't! We have a terrific case. MONTGOMERY: Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? : Show me the smoking gun! BARRY: (Barry flies in through the door) Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? : Here is your smoking gun. (Vanessa walks in holding a bee smoker. She sets it down on the Judge's podium) JUDGE BUMBLETON: What is that? BARRY: It's a bee smoker! MONTGOMERY: (Picks up smoker) What, this? This harmless little contraption? : This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. (Montgomery accidentally fires it at the bees in the crowd and they faint and cough) (Dozens of reporters start taking pictures of the suffering bees) BARRY: Look at what has happened : to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" : Is this what nature intended for us? : To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines : and man-made wooden slat work camps? : Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? (Barry points to the honey industry owners. One of them is an African American so he awkwardly separates himself from the others) LAWYER: - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! ADAM AND VANESSA: Free the bees! Free the bees! BEES IN CROWD: Free the bees! HUMAN JURY: Free the bees! Free the bees! JUDGE BUMBLETON: The court finds in favor of the bees! BARRY: Vanessa, we won! VANESSA: I knew you could do it! High-five! (Vanessa hits Barry hard because her hand is too big) : Sorry. BARRY: (Overjoyed) I'm OK! You know what this means? : All the honey will finally belong to the bees. : Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. MONTGOMERY: This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. : You'll regret this. (Montgomery leaves and Barry goes outside the courtroom. Several reporters start asking Barry questions) REPORTER 1#: Barry, how much honey is out there? BARRY: All right. One at a time. REPORTER 2#: Barry, who are you wearing? BARRY: My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. (Barry flies outside with the paparazzi and Adam and Vanessa stay back) ADAM: (To Vanessa) - What if Montgomery's right? Vanessa: - What do you mean? ADAM: We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to a man) BUSINESS MAN: Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? BARRY: First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. (As Barry is talking we see a montage of men putting "closed" tape over the work camps and freeing the bees in the crappy apartments) Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, : every last drop. (Men in suits are pushing all the honey of the aisle and into carts) We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more (We see a statue of a bear-shaped honey container being pulled down by bees) than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. : We're all aware of what they do in the woods. (We see Winnie the Pooh sharing his honey with Piglet in the cross-hairs of a high-tech sniper rifle) BARRY: (Looking through binoculars) Wait for my signal. : Take him out. (Winnie gets hit by a tranquilizer dart and dramatically falls off the log he was standing on, his tongue hanging out. Piglet looks at Pooh in fear and the Sniper takes the honey.) SNIPER: He'll have nausea for a few hours, then he'll be fine. (Flash forward in time) BARRY: And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... (Mr. Sting is sitting at home until he is taken out of his house by the men in suits) STING: But it's just a prance-about stage name! BARRY: ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products : and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. (An old lady is mixing honey into her tea but suddenly men in suits smash her face down on the table and take the honey) OLD LADY: Can't breathe. (A honey truck pulls up to Barry's hive) WORKER: Bring it in, boys! : Hold it right there! Good. : Tap it. (Tons of honey is being pumped into the hive's storage) BEE WORKER 1#: (Honey overflows from the cup) Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! : - I think we need to shut down! =BEE WORKER #2= - Shut down? We've never shut down. : Shut down honey production! DEAN BUZZWELL: Stop making honey! (The bees all leave their stations. Two bees run into a room and they put the keys into a machine) Turn your key, sir! (Two worker bees dramatically turn their keys, which opens the button which they press, shutting down the honey-making machines. This is the first time this has ever happened) BEE: ...What do we do now? (Flash forward in time and a Bee is about to jump into a pool full of honey) Cannonball! (The bee gets stuck in the honey and we get a short montage of Bees leaving work) (We see the Pollen Jocks flying but one of them gets a call on his antenna) LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") We're shutting honey production! : Mission abort. POLLEN JOCK #1: Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. (The Pollen Jocks fly back to the hive) (We get a time lapse of Central Park slowly wilting away as the bees all relax) BARRY: Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. ADAM: Oh, yeah? BARRY: What's going on? Where is everybody? (The entire street is deserted) : - Are they out celebrating? ADAM: - They're home. : They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. : I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. BARRY: At least we got our honey back. ADAM: Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? : It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. : This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. : And now... : Now I can't. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to Vanessa) BARRY: I don't understand why they're not happy. : I thought their lives would be better! : They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. VANESSA: You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? BARRY: - What did you want to show me? (Vanessa takes Barry to the rooftop where they first had coffee and points to her store) VANESSA: - This. (Points at her flowers. They are all grey and wilting) BARRY: What happened here? VANESSA: That is not the half of it. (Small flash forward in time and Vanessa and Barry are on the roof of her store and she points to Central Park) (We see that Central Park is no longer green and colorful, rather it is grey, brown, and dead-like. It is very depressing to look at) BARRY: Oh, no. Oh, my. : They're all wilting. VANESSA: Doesn't look very good, does it? BARRY: No. VANESSA: And whose fault do you think that is? BARRY: You know, I'm gonna guess bees. VANESSA== (Staring at Barry) Bees? BARRY: Specifically, me. : I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. VANESSA: It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. BARRY: That's our whole SAT test right there. VANESSA: Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. : And then, of course... BARRY: The human species? : So if there's no more pollination, : it could all just go south here, couldn't it? VANESSA: I know this is also partly my fault. BARRY: How about a suicide pact? VANESSA: How do we do it? BARRY: - I'll sting you, you step on me. VANESSA: - That just kills you twice. BARRY: Right, right. VANESSA: Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. (Vanessa leaves) BARRY: (To himself) I had to open my mouth and talk. : Vanessa? : Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? (Vanessa is getting into a taxi) VANESSA: To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. : They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. : It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. BARRY: Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. VANESSA: I know. Me neither. (The taxi starts to drive away) BARRY: Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. : Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? : Roses! : Vanessa! (Barry flies after the Taxi) VANESSA: Roses?! : Barry? (Barry is flying outside the window of the taxi) BARRY: - Roses are flowers! VANESSA: - Yes, they are. BARRY: Flowers, bees, pollen! VANESSA: I know. That's why this is the last parade. BARRY: Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? VANESSA: Could you slow down? (The taxi driver screeches to a stop and Barry keeps flying forward) : Barry! (Barry flies back to the window) BARRY: OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. VANESSA: Yes, it kind of is. BARRY: I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you : with the flower shop. I've made it worse. VANESSA: Actually, it's completely closed down. BARRY: I thought maybe you were remodeling. : But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. VANESSA: I don't want to hear it! BARRY: All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. : I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. : All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. : - Bees. VANESSA: - Park. BARRY: - Pollen! VANESSA: - Flowers. BARRY: - Re-pollination! VANESSA: - Across the nation! : Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. : They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. : Security will be tight. BARRY: I have an idea. (Flash forward in time. Vanessa is about to board a plane which has all the Roses on board. VANESSA: Vanessa Bloome, FTD. (Holds out badge) : Official floral business. It's real. SECURITY GUARD: Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. =VANESSA== Thank you. It was a gift. (Barry is revealed to be hiding inside the brooch) (Flash back in time and Barry and Vanessa are discussing their plan) BARRY: Once inside, we just pick the right float. VANESSA: How about The Princess and the Pea? : I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! BARRY: Yes, I got it. : - Where should I sit? GUARD: - What are you? BARRY: - I believe I'm the pea. GUARD: - The pea? VANESSA: It goes under the mattresses. GUARD: - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. VANESSA: You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! : Let's see what this baby'll do. (Vanessa drives the float through traffic) GUARD: Hey, what are you doing?! BARRY== Then all we do is blend in with traffic... : ...without arousing suspicion. : Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are about to get on a plane) SECURITY GUARD: Stop! Security. : - You and your insect pack your float? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Has it been in your possession the entire time? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Would you remove your shoes? (To Barry) - Remove your stinger. BARRY: - It's part of me. SECURITY GUARD: I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. (Barry plotting with Vanessa) BARRY: Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are flying on the plane) Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! VANESSA: I think this is gonna work. BARRY: It's got to work. CAPTAIN SCOTT: (On intercom) Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. : We have a bit of bad weather in New York. : It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. VANESSA: Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. BARRY: I gotta get up there and talk to them. VANESSA== Be careful. (Barry flies right outside the cockpit door) BARRY: Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. (The flight attendant opens the door and walks out and Barry flies into the cockpit unseen) BARRY: Captain, I'm in a real situation. CAPTAIN SCOTT: - What'd you say, Hal? CO-PILOT HAL: - Nothing. (Scott notices Barry and freaks out) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Bee! BARRY: No,no,no, Don't freak out! My entire species... (Captain Scott gets out of his seat and tries to suck Barry into a handheld vacuum) HAL: (To Scott) What are you doing? (Barry lands on Hals hair but Scott sees him. He tries to suck up Barry but instead he sucks up Hals toupee) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Uh-oh. BARRY: - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! HAL: (Hal doesn't know Barry is on his head) - Who's an attorney? CAPTAIN SCOTT: Don't move. (Scott hits Hal in the face with the vacuum in an attempt to hit Barry. Hal is knocked out and he falls on the life raft button which launches an infalatable boat into Scott, who gets knocked out and falls to the floor. They are both uncounscious.) BARRY: (To himself) Oh, Barry. BARRY: (On intercom, with a Southern accent) Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. : Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? (Vanessa looks confused) (Normal accent) ...And please hurry! (Vanessa opens the door and sees the life raft and the uncounscious pilots) VANESSA: What happened here? BARRY: I tried to talk to them, but then there was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. : Now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious! VANESSA: ...Is that another bee joke? BARRY: - No! : No one's flying the plane! BUD DITCHWATER: (Through radio on plane) This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? VANESSA: This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. BUD: Where's the pilot? VANESSA: He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. BUD: Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? BARRY: As a matter of fact, there is. BUD: - Who's that? BARRY: - Barry Benson. BUD: From the honey trial?! Oh, great. BARRY: Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. : It's got giant wings, huge engines. VANESSA: I can't fly a plane. BARRY: - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? VANESSA: - Yes. BARRY: How hard could it be? (Vanessa sits down and flies for a little bit but we see lightning clouds outside the window) VANESSA: Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. (An ominous lightning storm looms in front of the plane) (We are now watching the Bee News) BOB BUMBLE: This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, : where a suspenseful scene is developing. : Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... ADAM: That's Barry! BOB BUMBLE: ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers : and an incapacitated flight crew. JANET, MARTIN, UNCLE CAR AND ADAM: Flowers?! (The scene switches to the human news) REPORTER: (Talking with Bob Bumble) We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls : with absolutely no flight experience. BOB BUMBLE: Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. BUD: I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. : They've done enough damage. REPORTER: But isn't he your only hope? BUD: Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. : Their wings are too small... BARRY: (Through radio) Haven't we heard this a million times? : "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense."... BOB BUMBLE: - Get this on the air! BEE: - Got it. BEE NEWS CREW: - Stand by. BEE NEWS CREW: - We're going live! BARRY: (Through radio on TV) ...The way we work may be a mystery to you. : Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. : But let me tell you about a small job. : If you do it well, it makes a big difference. : More than we realized. To us, to everyone. : That's why I want to get bees back to working together. : That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. : We get behind a fellow. : - Black and yellow! BEES: - Hello! (The scene switches and Barry is teaching Vanessa how to fly) BARRY: Left, right, down, hover. VANESSA: - Hover? BARRY: - Forget hover. VANESSA: This isn't so hard. (Pretending to honk the horn) Beep-beep! Beep-beep! (A Lightning bolt hits the plane and autopilot turns off) Barry, what happened?! BARRY: Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. VANESSA: - That may have been helping me. BARRY: - And now we're not! VANESSA: So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. (The plane plummets but we see Lou Lu Duva and the Pollen Jocks, along with multiple other bees flying towards the plane) Lou Lu DUva: All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! : Move out! (The scene switches back to Vanessa and Barry in the plane) BARRY: Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! (Barry sticks out his arms like an airplane and flys in front of Vanessa's face) VANESSA: Don't have to yell. BARRY: I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. VANESSA: It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! BARRY: It's not a tone. I'm panicking! VANESSA: I can't do this! (Barry slaps Vanessa) BARRY: Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! VANESSA: (Slaps Barry) You snap out of it. BARRY: (Slaps Vanessa) : You snap out of it. VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! (We see that all the Pollen Jocks are flying under the plane) VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - Hold it! BARRY: - Why? Come on, it's my turn. VANESSA: How is the plane flying? (The plane is now safely flying) VANESSA: I don't know. (Barry's antennae rings like a phone. Barry picks up) BARRY: Hello? LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? (All of the Pollen Jocks are carrying the plane) BARRY: The Pollen Jocks! : They do get behind a fellow. LOU LU DUVA: - Black and yellow. POLLEN JOCKS: - Hello. LOU LU DUVA: All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. BARRY: Where? I can't see anything. Can you? VANESSA: No, nothing. It's all cloudy. : Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. BARRY: - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. (On the runway there are millions of bees laying on their backs) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. VANESSA: - What? BARRY: - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. : Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. : Bring the nose down. BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR: - What in the world is on the tarmac? BUD: - Get some lights on that! (It is revealed that all the bees are organized into a giant pulsating flower formation) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: - Vanessa, aim for the flower. VANESSA: - OK. BARRY: Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? LOU LU DUVA: Affirmative! BARRY: Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. : Land on that flower! : Ready? Full reverse! : Spin it around! (The plane's nose is pointed at a flower painted on a nearby plane) - Not that flower! The other one! VANESSA: - Which one? BARRY: - That flower. (The plane is now pointed at a fat guy in a flowered shirt. He freaks out and tries to take a picture of the plane) VANESSA: - I'm aiming at the flower! BARRY: That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! (The plane hovers over the bee-flower) : Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. : Rotate around it. VANESSA: - This is insane, Barry! BARRY: - This's the only way I know how to fly. BUD: Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? (The plane is unrealistically hovering and spinning over the bee-flower) BARRY: Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! : Just drop it. Be a part of it. : Aim for the center! : Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! : Come on, already. (The bees scatter and the plane safely lands) VANESSA: Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! BARRY: - Yes! (Vanessa is about to high-five Barry) No high-five! VANESSA: - Right. ADAM: Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? BARRY: What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! ADAM: - Thank you. BARRY: - But we're not done yet. : Listen, everyone! : This runway is covered with the last pollen : from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. : That means this is our last chance. : We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. : If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? : Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? BEES: We're bees! BEE WHO LIKES KEYCHAINS: Keychain! BARRY: Then follow me! Except Keychain. POLLEN JOCK #1: Hold on, Barry. Here. : You've earned this. BARRY: Yeah! : I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. (The Pollen Jocks throw Barry a nectar-collecting gun. Barry catches it) Oh, yeah. JANET: That's our Barry. (Barry and the Pollen Jocks get pollen from the flowers on the plane) (Flash forward in time and the Pollen Jocks are flying over NYC) : (Barry pollinates the flowers in Vanessa's shop and then heads to Central Park) BOY IN PARK: Mom! The bees are back! ADAM: (Putting on his Krelman hat) If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. : I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! (The bee honey factories are back up and running) (Meanwhile at Vanessa's shop) VANESSA: (To customer) Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? : Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. (There is a room in the shop where Barry does legal work for other animals. He is currently talking with a Cow) COW: Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! : Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! BARRY: I had no idea. VANESSA: Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? BARRY: Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. MOOSEBLOOD: Sorry I'm late. COW: He's a lawyer too? MOOSEBLOOD: Ma'am, I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. VANESSA: Have a great afternoon! : Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. BARRY: No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. VANESSA: You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? BARRY: All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. VANESSA: Thank you, Barry! (Ken walks by on the sidewalk and sees the "bee-approved honey" in Vanessa's shop) KEN: That bee is living my life!! ANDY: Let it go, Kenny. KEN: - When will this nightmare end?! ANDY: - Let it all go. BARRY: - Beautiful day to fly. POLLEN JOCK: - Sure is. BARRY: Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. (Barry recreates the scene near the beginning of the movie where he flies through the box kite. The movie fades to black and the credits being) [--after credits; No scene can be seen but the characters can be heard talking over the credits--] You have got to start thinking bee, my friend! : - Thinking bee! - Me? BARRY: (Talking over singer) Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. : I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? SINGER: Oh, BarryBARRY: I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! SINGER: All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. BARRY: I had virtually no rehearsal for that. WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE.....

#submission #welcome to night vale #nightvale #wtnv

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