#Thank you for getting my books and supporting the crisis nurseries! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

r-ahh-mi · 5 years ago

Text

Homecoming

Warnings: Smut. 18+. Other than that, this is just a massive dose of fluff.

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Rami is left sifting his mind through an interview during a long press tour of the world that is drawing out far too long for his liking. After months of being away from any sort of familiarity, he begins to miss the very human being who makes him feel at home.

There was a small buzzing..or humming-like sound ringing through my ears. The humming was occasionally reaching new octaves and levels of intensity and calm, as if it was riding a very bumpy wave, but suddenly the hum was loud and staccato; repeating itself another two times before a small pinch of pain seared through my shoulder until the sound was no longer catching my attention. I winced, moving my hand in an instant to the warmth on my arm-only then did I recall just where I was and what I was doing and why I had been so rudely nudged by the person sat next to me.

Press tours were never my cup of tea. The first couple stops were fine because the questions were new and fresh and my responses were genuine and filled with real emotion, but after having to repeat a story three times, four times..ten times. It’s dull and my words begin to lose their value of genuine excitement and amusement that it once held. This interview was just like that.

The main cast, myself included, were nearing the end of our dreadfully long press tour that had wrapped itself around the globe, thus making the travel extensive and for long periods of time. And to be completely frank, I missed my bed, I missed my dog, but what, or should I say who I missed the most was my wife.

We’d never gone this long without seeing one another and I knew it was taking a tremendous toll on me and her both, though she was quick to hide it. I knew she wasn’t one to need me around every waking moment, but by the solemn tone of her voice everytime we said goodbye from our nightly phone or facetime call and whenever I told her about something amusing that happened in my day, her smile just wasn't the ‘grin and bear it’ one I was craving to be in the same room as and to smooth away with a kiss that lingered. It was small and slightly even sad, as if she wanted to badly be experiencing the same casual amusements I was seeing everyday.

I could feel myself falling back into my own head--the voices were blurring together again and the high pitched buzzing was seeping through my ears as I was beginning to be consumed with my thoughts again.

“Rami?”

Again, the pinching electrocuted a response out of me as I mumbled an ‘ow!’, and looked in the direction of the co star sat next to me who was looking at me with a less than friendly expression on their face.

I looked around the room and noted that everyone, and I mean everyone, was staring at me. Some looking annoyed, but most just looking expectant.

“Would you like me to repeat the question Mr. Malek?”

My eyes focused on the nicely dressed female as she looked at me nervously while I attempted to re-compose myself.

“Yes-s”, I stuttered, but was quick to get myself back on track. “Yes please.”

Though I didn’t really want her to. Lord knows she would only mutter out a question I’d already heard dozens of times and answered with less than the acceptable amount of enthusiasm.

“I asked if you were missing home at all; I’ve heard it’s much warmer in the states right now than it is here. I’d assume you’d be a bit home sick right now.”

To my surprise, this question was much much different from the others, in fact it’s the first time any member of the press seemed to show a glimmer of sympathy or interest in my personal well being as opposed to wanting further knowledge of this movie I was promoting. It took me a second to respond, though not too many ticking moments or else I feared I’d receive another twing from a rather bony elbow in my side.

“I do miss home, very much actually. Very excited to be in my home with my wife in the next couple days.”

The interviewers eyes seemed to light up, both with excitement of the prospects of a topic to talk about and something else that seemed to make a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sure it can be tough being apart from your partner for that long. How do you cope with that?”

I shrugged, what we did was anything but coping or ‘getting by’. We made it work tremendously well and, for the most part, I have her to thank for that. She was quick to keep me grounded and even more quick to assure me that mentally I was still the down to earth boy she’d met twelve years ago who was just in the beginning stages of his career as an actor. She supported me then, she supports me now; there was never a push from her for me to do something different and I never pressured her to accept this lifestyle that I had thrown her in to, yet she did so with an overgrowing ease.

“It can be tough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’ve known each other for too long to let much get to us.”

“Surely there has to be some discourse in-”

I shook my head as my patience seemed to fly out the window much quicker than it usually did. Lack of sleep could’ve been the easy option, but what really seemed to get my ticking was this interviewer quickly shuffling from a sweet question to a comment that was seeking out drama and gossip--you know, things to actually assist them in selling their shitty writing.

“She’s great, truly she is,'' I interjected the woman’s long spiel. “Not everything is easy, but we are doing more than okay in our relationship and she’s the best person I can think of for me to share my life with.”

A couple of my co stars ‘awed’ dramatically as they patted my shoulder. I smiled in recognition, but couldn’t help but feel odd for doing the simple task that was loving and actually enjoying the person I chose to spend the rest of my life with.

“Do you have any children?”

“No”, I shook my head, “no children yet.”

“Yet?” The female interviewer quirked her eyebrow as I nibbled on my lip, holding in a smile that was threatening to spill all the way up to my cheeks.

“Yes, not quite yet.”

“So children are definitely on the table for you in the future?”

I nodded matter of factly as I thought back to the conversation me and her had prior to getting married--baby names, preferred genders, and possible nursery themes. We both saw eye to eye on nearly everything, although, the thing that was of utmost importance to me was having a healthy baby with this woman who, at that point in my life, I hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask to marry me just quite yet.

“Yeah, we absolutely want them in the future. Just waiting for everything to settle down a bit first.”

After that, the conversation seemed to shift to my co stars as the interviewer asked each of them some personal questions that weren’t much different to the ones she asked me. Of course, my busy, busy mind didn’t pay much attention once I knew that I had been asked the questions needed for this interview and I was happy that my mind was free to wander a bit more.

However, I wasn’t awarded the same freedom to think happy thoughts as I was just before the interviewer brought her attention to my personal life. Instead, now all I could think about was her and it was setting in just how god damn much I missed her. She was my partner, but most of all she was my best friend and no one enjoys being apart from their best friend for long. It’s as if a chunk of you is just missing or far away and I wanted nothing more than to cuddle it firmly against my chest and forget about the weighing lonesomeness I was feeling for her.

Eventually, the interview was over and I was free to go back to my hotel room and do as I pleased with the rest of my day. The rest of my castmates had settled on having a bit of an outing with it being our last day in an exotic location that the tour had taken us to and of course I was invited, but I just didn’t feel up to it. I would rather go back to my hotel room and bask in the sullen feelings and order some severely overpriced room service.

As soon as I slid my card into the slot and unlocked my hotel room door, I kicked the uncomfortable leather loafers to the side and reached for the phone set in my pocket as I began distracting myself with the email and text notifications displayed on my lock screen.

As I traveled to the bathroom, I found myself puzzled that I hadn’t heard from her, my wife, in quite some time. Usually she would send me a text whenever she woke up, but as I did the math in my head to compare our time differences, she would have woken up hours ago. I sent her a brief ‘love and miss you baby’ text and set my phone down on the counter as I stripped down to my briefs and shuffled my legs into some much comfier sweatpants.

I began to think about how I would spend the rest of my day; watching a movie or tv show, reading a book, because I never had time to read anymore, or maybe sleeping. Sleeping sounded like the most plausible option, seeing as I rarely got it these days, so I mentally prepared myself for the comfortable awaiting hotel sheets I would be swaddled on top of in just a moment.

But as soon as my eyes looked up and onto my bed, I nearly choked on the sharp and unexpected amount of air I had taken in. Such a reaction was bound to happen when one saw a human form lounging comfortably on their bed. Of course, the second I saw the figure the first thing I thought was to protect myself, but the moment I took in the familiar colored hair, skin, body type, and the faintest of smell, I felt anything but the opposite of crisis mode.

Instantly my shoulders slumped back down to their relaxed positions as I stared at her in disbelief. She smiled cockily—typical—as she watched me just stand there, owl eyed and ridden with shock, but the moment my mind and body seemed to process that my wife, of whom I hadn’t seen in months—god, so many fucking months—was laying on my hotel bed in a country that she was not meant to be in, I lunged for her instantly.

One could compare it to a linebackers tackle as I flung my arms around her, latched my legs to fit on top of hers, and snuggled into her side. She giggled briefly as she returned my fierce hug with just as much, if not more, power and for a couple minutes we just stayed latched on to one another.

I buried my face deep into her neck, smelling the floral accent from her favorite shampoo and id never craved a stereotypical feminine scent so much in my entire life until this very moment as I pressed a simple, sweet kiss to her neck. She giggled some more as her fingertips began to lightly trace up and down my arm and I couldn’t help myself any longer as I pulled my face up so I could have a better look at the face that I recently saw via my phone screen, but hadn’t seen or touched in person in months.

I took her in, making little notes of all the similarities and differences from the last time I saw that gorgeous face of hers, but even more than that, I loved being able to trace my thumb along her cheek again as I cupped the side of her face in my palm. She leaned Into my touch, the way she always had done, and brought her hand up to rest atop mine while her thumb rang along the mountains my knuckle bones created on my hands.

“How are you even here right now?”

Instantly, her lips twitched up into a large grin and I could only hope that she was pleased to hear the sound of my voice as I had been to hear her laugh again.

“I was able to get some time off of work and I didn’t feel like waiting a couple more days to see you.”

“So you just hopped on a plane without telling me?”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes following the same kind of movement as her grin turned back into that sly, beautiful smirk. “Yep.”

Without hesitation I propped myself up on one elbow and moved my mouth to hers in a long, soothing kiss and it was almost like I was being teleported back to the very moment we first pressed our lips together. I relished in the taste of her mouth as our lips started working against one another until my body began to fall into rhythm as I rolled on top of her, letting my weight fall completely onto my arms which held me up above her form. The moment I felt her one hand fall on top of my back, that warmth shot through my body as if her fingertips had an electric current pulsing through them just waiting to zap me.

Though I wanted to take my time cherishing every moment and inch of her, I was also terribly filled with a lust that I hadn’t been able to fully quench in the last one hundred or so days. She was the only one who would be able to fulfill me in such a manor like that, I was positive, so I didn’t waste anytime removing her clothing from her until she was left in nothing but a pair of panties that seemed much too fancy to just be everyday underwear.

I’d be sure to give her shit about that later, but for now I wanted to appreciate them, appreciate her as much as possible.

As I moved a stray hair to safely rest back into its proper place with the other strands of hair, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty that was her. Sure, she was physically stunning, but she was much more than outwardly beautiful to me. She was filled with joy, sarcasm, whit, and intelligence that was remarkable and beyond anything I had ever seen in anyone before.

“I’m flattered by your staring, but it’s getting creepy.”

I rolled my eyes at her comment and playfully nudged my nose against her cheek, feeling the swell of her bare breasts press against me as I continued nudging her face with the tip of my nose until she was in a fit of giggles, but her noises seemed to decrease in volume as I began moving my lips delicately in a downward fashion along her skin.

I let my lips linger for long as I found the nape of her neck, letting my teeth gently graze against her skin before I’d bring the slickness of my mouth and tongue against her sweet smelling body. Her hands gripped my back much firmer than before as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her body beginning to subtly move against mine every now and again.

I noticed her breath becoming louder and faster as my hands began to palm at her chest- the silky smooth skin felt as if I was grasping the finest of materials in my hand as my thumb glided smoothly to flick over her taut nipple, making her body instantly grind itself against mine and causing me to suck in a sharp and nearly painful breath.

If this is how she was making me feel now, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like once I was intimately cradling her form as close to mine as possible while we both moved within one another. To be that close to her again was something I had been craving an ungodly amount and now that I was feeling her, tasting her skin, and hearing her make the most lust filled and pleasured noises, I was nearly thanking god for this time apart that made me that much more grateful to be as close and intimate with someone that I truly and utterly loved with everything I had.

I maneuvered my body down from her collarbones until my trail took me to her chest. I didn’t dare leave the upper half of her body until I left a teasing kiss with the slightest bit of sucking to her hardened nipple as it was kissed by the cool air. She responded exactly as I thought she would, muttering a ‘fuck’ that couldn’t have been louder than a whisper, as she let her relaxed hands slip from my back to my neck. And when my mouth hovered just a bit above the warmth between her legs, I could feel her fingers curl within my hair as she waited in anticipation and I didn’t leave her hanging for long.

My mouth grazed along the fabric of her panties, mouthing and teasing at the material while grazing my teeth along the nicely trimmed lace that was fit perfectly to her body. She voluntarily spread her legs further apart as I wrapped one of my arms around her thigh, keeping it still until I moved the thin material away from her core. Her wetness was immediately visible to me which made the stiffening in my groin begin to pulsate as it became more and more consumed with sensitivity.

I seemed like a magnet to her as my mouth instantly fell to her lower lips, dipping the tip of my tongue gently between her folds as I gave a long lick to her core that made her body twitch ever so slightly beneath my touch.

I let myself enjoy her more as I began leaving flat tongued licks to her small bundle of nerves and playing them up with either quick flicks of the tongue or slow, nearly achining movements.

She moaned out my name as I continued tasting her and I felt her hand slowly slither down to rest on top of my hand that was laying on her thigh. I let my hand switch places to rest next to hers as I intertwined our fingers, all the while, my mouth proceeded to please her body. Her hips were stirring lightly with every flick of my tongue, but her hips became almost uncontrollable as I puckered my lips and began sucking mercilessly on her clit.

She was writhing and squirming with every gasp she could fathom up. Her hand was squeezing mine harshly as our fingers still remained intertwined until it was evident that she was hitting her climax. Her hips moved against my mouth and loud moans breached from her mouth as she grinded her body and I sucked and licked her up for as long as I knew it was pleasurable to her—until I felt her body relax back down into the mattress and her thumb start lightly tracing the divets of my hand again.

I pulled my face up and the first thing I saw was her bashful glow as she looked up at me with red cheeks and a thin layer of sweat glazed across her forehead.

“Well, that was quick,” I joked as I sat back up, but she didn’t seem too thrilled with my better attempt at humor as she brought her had up to lightly smack me along the arm.

“Hey!,” I winced.

“You deserved it! One-hundred percent deserved that Rami!”

I couldn’t help but let out a long string of silent chuckles as I held my hand to my heart in an attempt to calm myself, but she had a much better way of bringing me back to the situation.

Her legs, once again, became tangled up around my waist as she pulled my body downwards and luckily I caught myself with my arms to hold up my spare weight and not crush her.

We both smiled at one another as I combed my fingers through her hair, making the locks fan out across her head like a halo encapsulating her face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Though my words seemed cliche and maybe they were, they held my inner most true feelings for this stunning creature below me that still managed to keep me memorized.

“Shut up,'' she said between a laugh and a smile as she used her hand to push my head down towards her and press our lips together.

This time the kiss was much more heated and less simple and sweet. It was passionate and loving and sexy all rolled into a glorious triad as we began to get lost and found all at the same time as we fell into our old rhythm of being intimate with one another. Naturally, our bodies began to move against one another, causing me to elicit a sort of primal noise as I pressed my mouth even further against her lips.

We stayed like that for awhile; me pressing my hips down into hers, her responding immediately by pressing her hips upwards until we met in the middle and gave each other the friction we were teasing one another with. However, once she started whimpering against my lips, I couldn’t help myself anymore. I just wanted to feel her as close as humanly possible and I wasn’t letting me or her deprive ourselves of it any longer.

I sat my body up with my weight balanced on my knees while my hands began to busy themselves as they smoothed down the middle of her chest, down her stomach, and to the top of her panties. She assisted me by pressing her thighs together and lifting her bent knees and hips in the air to allow me to roll the fabric off of her hips and down her legs until I was tossing the flimsiness to the ground.

I began to reach down towards the waist of my sweatpants and slip the fabric off of my lower half until I too was left just as bare as she was. Then, I felt her delicate fingers dance along my stomach--I hadn’t noticed until now that she had sat up and must’ve watched me shimmy out of my remaining clothing items, but she seemed to be enjoying herself quite nicely as she traced the indents of my stomach muscles until she was skating her fingertips across the line of hair resting against my lower stomach.

I’m sure she felt as my body tensed with pleasure beneath her, but it didn’t keep her from losing track of her trail ahead. Her hands moved to my hips, letting both of them feel the deeply carved indents that created an upside triangle shape into my skin, but her touch didn’t stay there for long. One of her hands remained on my hip, keeping me grounded, as her other one moved to exactly where I wanted her to touch me the most and I couldn’t help but sigh loudly at the feeling of her palm wrapped tightly around me.

I began to close my eyes, relishing in this much missed feeling and loving that she was the one making me feel this pleasure, but I was also more than ready, both physically and mentally, to feel her to the fullest extent. Quickly, I opened my eyes back up and gently placed my hands on top of hers as I slowly pinned her hands to the mattress.

“You really, really missed me, huh?,” she taunted as she playfully stuck her tongue out from between her teeth.

I shook my head as I resumed back into my position of hovering over her and without saying a word, I grabbed ahold of my member and pressed it against her wetness. Instantly, her playful smirk was replaced with squinted eyes and lips pressed together as she held in a noise that surely was threatening to vibrate off of the paper thin walls.

I started off slow, making sure that we were both comfortable with one another, as I slide inside of her with one paced motion. Her nails instantly dug into my arms as she threw her head back in pleasure, finally letting out a noise that was more than pleasing to both my ears and my hardening member. I let myself fall backwards, nearly slipping completely out of her before I repeated the motion and once I could tell she was enjoying this just as much as I was, I created a steady rhythm for the both of us.

Our foreheads were nearly touching as I thrust my hard cock into her, this time with a little more force, but nothing rough in nature. She seemed more than pleased as she moved her hips upward to meet my movements and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly to myself. Maybe she really, really missed me too, huh?

I could tell she was nearly close to reaching her climax already, but holding off and I was doing the exact same. She was clenching all around me and, my god, the noises she was making alone surely could’ve gotten me there; I wanted nothing more than to finish off and feel that pleasure that she always made me reach, but savoring this closeness and intimacy with her was much more important to me right now. I began to slow my movements down just slightly and she took note of this as she looked at me with the slightest bit of concern that screamed “what's wrong”.

My eyes softened at the comforting look on her face as she brought one of her hands up to my sweaty cheek.

“You okay?”

“Perfect actually.” She looked less than satisfied with my answer as her eyes blinked quickly--she couldn’t have looked more adorable if she had tried.

“Just want to enjoy this as long as I can,” I somehow was able to mutter, though it was surely smothered in heavy breaths and spaced out words.

She partially nodded as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, “Told ya you missed me”.

Of course I missed her and of course I missed this, but I knew she was merely tugging at her ego and letting me know that she was still the sarcastic, beautiful woman that I fell in love with years ago. And truly, she was just that-- I couldn’t have been happier to be so deeply immersed and in love with a human being than her if I tried.

Tag: @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @amcquivey @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @rogers-wristbands @deacytits @ramimedley

#ramimalek #rami malek #rami malek fic #rami malek smut #rami malek fluff

98 notes · View notes

pocketfulofpolin · 5 years ago

Text

Protector (9-1-1 fic)

Part One | AO3

Chapter Two Wonderland

He was drowning.

He tried to move his arms, to move his legs through the water. They were as heavy as lead, he was unable to reach the surface. He gulped, no breath left within him. He knew that he needed to try and breakthrough. Christopher. He needed to find the young boy, to reach him, to bring him to safety. Water filled his lungs. He knew the effects on drowning - his larynx would fall into spasms, the effect would be permanently damaging.

The surface felt miles away. It slowly faded out of view.

He had failed Christopher.

He had failed Eddie.

He had -

Buck woke with a jolt. For a moment there was confusion about his surroundings. The beeping grabbed his attention, the events from the previous day flooded back. As he reached for his cell, the glare of the screen told him he had been asleep for a few hours. It had been months since he had slept without nightmares, slept more than just a few hours at a time. Buck let out a small sigh, as he stretched out, trying to remove the knots which had formed from sleeping in the hard chair.

Movement caught his attention, and Buck turned his head. A small smile broke through, as he watched his daughter - his daughter - move slightly in her sleep. Buck couldn’t believe how much love he had for something so small, as he stood up, standing over her little bed protectively.

“Would you like to feed her?”

He was startled by the new voice. He spotted the nurse - Jem, from her colorful name tag - who came closer. Buck remembered seeing her briefly before he fell asleep. He didn’t want to wake her, she looked truly peaceful. However, he knew that the medical staff were there, and would know exactly how to help the baby. Buck had been around a few babies in his time as a firefighter, he couldn’t remember any newborn be so quiet before without it being a concern. As if she had read his mind, Jem (who had been completing checks) spoke up in a low tone.

“She’s one of the calmest newborns I have looked after,” Jem said, as she carefully marked something down on the chart. “She stirred once, while you were asleep, but it was almost as if she knew you needed rest.” She looked towards the new father. “Unfortunately it won’t last. Even the calmest of newborns make their presence known once they find their home.”

Buck let out a half-laugh.

“My sister says that I was trouble from the start,” Buck said, recalling Maddie’s stories of his childhood. The ten year age difference between brother and sister had always been obvious. Maddie had fond memories of him as a baby, as a toddler, which many other siblings would not recall. “Clearly she is taking after - “

He broke off.

The truth was he had no idea about Ali’s, or how she would have been. In the few months they had been together, they had learned very little about each other. Buck only knew that her parents had died a few years before the earthquake and that she had a brother she rarely spoke with. He had snippets of information about her past from comments, knew that her love of art had been a trait from her maternal grandmother, yet nothing that could assist in raising a child.

As if she had read his thoughts, the nurse made a comment of her own. “It may sound redundant, I am truly sorry for your loss,”.

“We weren’t together. I didn’t even know about the baby.” Buck said, words forming before he could stop them. “I want to feel angry. To ask her why she didn’t tell me…” He couldn’t feel anger towards someone who wasn’t there. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Buck wanted to believe that he could face anything. Over the past year, he had been trapped by a fire truck, suffered through months of surgeries and physical therapies, broken up with his girlfriend, experienced a pulmonary embolism, lived through a tsunami, attempted to sue his family, and survived during the coldness from the said family once he had returned. Buck wanted to believe that he was strong, even though he had nothing prepared. The apartment in which he lived was not suitable for a baby, he had nothing brought, he hadn’t taken any classes to ready himself.

Had Ali already prepared a nursery? Clearly, she would have, but it would feel wrong for him to use anything from there. Buck felt completely out of his depth. Jem had finished with her checkup, satisfied that the baby was progressing well. She placed a hand of comfort on his shoulder, which broke Buck from his thoughts.

“I have two children myself. My younger daughters' birth was traumatizing for everyone involved, but she was a fighter. She’s about to start kindergarten. I cannot begin to understand how you are feeling, Mr. Buckley. I can, however, tell you that you have helped bring a fighter of your own into the world. You have a little time to arrange everything for once you can take her home. We’ll be here, any questions or concerns you just need to ask.” She smiled, one of comfort and trust-building. “I’ll go and prepare what we need for her feed. Although, Mr. Buckley in my experience, you will complete one of the hardest parts of parenthood before you leave the hospital.”

Buck looked towards her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The nurse just laughed. “She needs a name.”

As she disappeared, Buck turned back to the little girl. She kicked out her legs, small movements that indicated to Buck she was still there with him. He wondered if Ali had chosen any names. He wondered if she had decided to even raise their daughter - whether she had planned to give her to anyone else. Buck knew that he would never find this out. He couldn’t ask her, all he could do was ensure that their daughter was protected.

“A name?” He questioned, speaking to the little girl quietly. She moved again, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms from the outside world. “I… you know, your Aunt Maddie used to read me her books. I used to pretend to hate them, would tell her that I was old enough to read for myself. Secretly? I enjoyed the attention she gave me. Your grandparents, well, let’s just say I was a surprise.” Maddie had always been closer to their parents. Buck knew that was why he had been so drawn towards Bobby, considered him a father-figure as such. The man had been the first person to provide actual parental attention towards him, even if it had been unintentional. “They were always old, written before even our grandparents were born. Maddie loves the classics.”

He tested a few names mentally. The clocked ticked by, and before he knew it, a name had sprung to mind. For many parents, it took months of books, suggestions, and arguments to decide a moniker for their newborn. For Evan Buckley, there was only one choice. A book he would listen too, a book he would ask his sister to read more than once. About a young girl who traveled to a mysterious land, where not everything was as it seemed.

“Your Aunt Maddie always loved the idea of running to wonderland. She used to tell me we would go together, leave our parents behind.” He closed his eyes for a moment. They were not who he wanted to think about at that moment of time. “So, how about Alice?”

The newborn - who had awoken partway through the story - kicked out her legs. Buck took this has a good sign, and mentally thanked his sister for her attention as a young boy.

And thus, Alice Buckley was officially born.

( - - - )

He didn’t want to leave the hospital.

The nursing staff had helped him, as he had cared for Alice. He had held babies before, he had been around them, babysat them. It was different when the child in question was your own. Buck felt as though all prior knowledge he had somehow disappeared. He was grateful for the support, as he accepted his role as the only caregiver in Alice’s life. Her birth - although traumatic for Ali - had left no scars on the newborn. They wanted to release her, to allow Buck and his daughter to exit into the world together.

The thought terrified him.

He had nothing at home that could support a child. The apartment was only just large enough for him, let alone adding another body to the situation. Buck had switched his cell to silent after speaking to his chief that morning. The guilt he had felt bypassing his own captain still grated within his gut. Buck was adamant that he did not want his team to find out, not until he could prove that he could cope. Buck was not a complete idiot. He knew that his team still saw him as incapable at times. That had become evident during his own stupidity with the lawsuit. For once, Buck wanted to show them that he could cope in a non-work related crisis without causing them any unnecessary stress.

Buck left the room, leaving Alice with the nursing staff, as he walked towards a quiet area to make a phone call. He brought out his phone and noticed that no one had contacted him. He had only used his cell once since being at the hospital, to contact the department to ask for emergency leave. He was certain that word would have gotten to Bobby by now after he hadn’t arrived for his shift. He felt a pang of sadness that the man who had thought of as a father hadn’t tried to get in touch. At that point, he would even accept the man’s fury at the youngest member of the 118 for going over his head to get leave.

Clearly, he was no longer important, he was replaceable as he had thought when Bosko had tapped over his name.

Entering his contact list, Buck hovered over Eddie’s name.

He had missed him so much. The connection they had made after the bomb incident had been one Buck had never felt before. It had once felt as though the two could act and react without words. Buck always knew the steps Eddie would make, he would always know how to bring him back from the edge. That had cooled, he only remembered the shouting at the grocery store, how broken he had felt afterward. Then there was Christopher, and it practically broke Buck’s heart to be absent from that boy’s life. He shook his head, before scrolling once more. He hadn’t wanted to contact his sister, to burden her with another problem. However, Evan Buckley had always needed her during his childhood. Even though he was twenty-eight, even though he was now a father, he doubted that would actually go away.

No, not this time.

He put the phone away once more.

It was time for Evan Buckley to stand on his own two feet for the first time.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #dad!buck #evan buckley #protector #buddie #pre-slash #fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

unfolded73 · 5 years ago

Text

How Do We Get Back (9/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rated explicit. This chapter 4k words. (ao3)

This chapter is a sad one, but hang in there... (putting everything below the cut due to spoilers in the first few lines)

_____________________________________

Chapter 9

The sun was shining the first morning David woke up into a world without his sister in it.

He might’ve expected it to hit him afresh as he surfaced from fitful sleep, the fact that his sister was dead. But it had suffused his sleep, invaded his dreams — there was no escaping the knowledge even in his subconscious. As he awoke, he mostly just felt numb and hungover from crying.

David had rehearsed this kind of thing in his head a hundred times. All the times that Alexis had come back from a long trip abroad with a story about fleeing the Yakuza or being held captive by a sultan, David had played out in his mind a vivid scenario in which Alexis didn’t escape and one of them got a middle-of-the-night phone call with terrible news. He told himself that these morbid fantasies were his way of preparing for the worst. That allowing himself to imagine all of it — how he would behave, what his parents would do, what kind of details would need to be arranged — was a mental insurance policy against the thing actually happening.

None of that was true. It hadn’t prepared him in the slightest.

David emerged from his bedroom and wandered downstairs, keeping his eyes averted from the family portrait in the great hall. He found his father in the kitchen, staring out the window as his assistant, Mallory, sat implacably at the kitchen island and ticked items off of a checklist. He marveled that his father’s ever-capable assistant had come prepared with a checklist of funeral preparations.

“Do you want to go with me to select the casket?” Mallory asked gently.

Johnny stirred himself, looking over at her as if he was trying to parse her question. David suspected he hadn’t slept at all. “You can pick it. It doesn’t really matter what her casket looks like.”

“Mom might care what it looks like,” David said, his voice raspy.

“Your mother isn’t in any state to go casket shopping,” Johnny said.

David threw his hands up. “What, are you just letting her overdose on sleeping pills? Are we going to have two funerals this week?”

“No, I’m not letting her…” Johnny shouted, but quickly ran out of steam. “I don’t think she’ll be ready to leave the house today, that’s all.”

“I’ll go with you to pick out the casket,” David said to Mallory before he went back upstairs to check on his mother.

He expected to find her in bed but Moira was up, sitting at her dressing table and staring at herself in the mirror. David lurked in the doorway for a moment, unsure if he should go in. She had on no makeup, and she didn’t like people to see her with no makeup, even her son. His mother looked old, David thought for the first time in his life.

“Hi, Mom.”

Moira didn’t turn. “Oh, David. John said you were here.” Her voice was low and quiet, lacking its usual expressiveness.

David walked into the room and sat down on the chest at the foot of his parents’ bed. He’d sat here so many times as a child, watching his mother modeling a new piece of couture or trying out a new wig. In a relatively lonely childhood, those were among his fondest memories.

“We’ll need to pick something to dress her in,” Moira said. “I was thinking about that Stella McCartney gown that she wore last Christmas.”

David imagined Alexis’ dead body being bent and stretched like an oversized Barbie to get it into that dress, and suddenly he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

“Sure,” he said.

“I mean, is that what Alexis would have wanted, do you think?”

“Pretty sure what Alexis would have wanted is to not be dead,” David shot back, almost with the hope that it would get a negative reaction from his mother. Tears. Screaming. Something.

Moira didn’t even blink.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Alexis loved that dress; it’s a good choice.”

“I can’t remember the last time I told her I loved her. My own daughter,” Moira said, her voice finally breaking on the last word.

“I’m sure she knew,” he said, although he was sure of nothing of the sort. “We aren’t really a family who says that to each other.”

“And we should have taken better care of her. Not let her jet off to anywhere and everywhere like we did.”

“She was a grown woman; I’m not sure what you could have done to stop her.” For that matter, before she was a grown woman, when she was twelve and ended up in Hong Kong, for example, he wasn’t sure anyone could have ever stopped Alexis from going where she wanted to go when she wanted to go there.

Maybe if she’d been raised in a warm and loving home, and not in a place where the nursery was in a separate wing of the house, maybe then she’d have stayed home more. Maybe then she’d still be alive. Then he closed the door on those thoughts. There would be time later to blame his parents for this. Right now, he needed to be supportive.

“Mallory wants someone to go with her to pick the casket. Are you all right with me doing it?” he asked his mother.

Moira nodded. “I’m sure you’ll pick something tasteful.” She picked up a bottle of foundation and shook it, then set it back down, staring into space.

“I’ll check in on you when I get back, okay?” David said. Moira didn’t respond.

David wasn’t prepared for how heavy the grief would be, how it would weigh him down like a yoke on his shoulders, how stupid and yet somehow crucial all the things about planning the funeral would feel. How he would cry so hard sometimes that he made himself throw up, and other times he’d be so numb that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel true feelings again. His parents were like strangers to him, like shells of their former selves ghosting around the house, and it made him want to smash things and scream and make them acknowledge that all of this was real. Make them take care of him, instead of the other way around.

The night before the funeral, David went to bed early, a part of him hoping he could just sleep through all of it. Sleep until the grief was a little bit lighter and easier to carry around. When his phone started to ring, it took all of his energy to pick it up and see who was calling.

Patrick.

“Hello?”

“David, it’s Patrick.” After a brief pause, he continued, “From—”

“I haven’t forgotten you,” David blurted out.

“Listen, I saw the news online. I’m so sorry about Alexis.”

Fresh tears filled David’s eyes, and he closed them. “Thanks.”

“I know I don’t have any right to… call you or whatever, but I wanted you to know that if there’s anything at all I can do…”

David wiped at one cheek. “I appreciate that. There’s nothing.”

“Is there a service? If you’d be willing, I’d like to come to the service. But only if—”

“You don’t have to do that.” Patrick was just a hookup, David told himself, there was no reason for him to offer to do something like come to his sister’s funeral.

“I know I don’t have to, but…” He sighed. “Listen, if me being there would only burden you, then I’ll stay away. But if you think it would help even the tiniest bit, then I’ll be on the next plane.”

David allowed himself to imagine it. Patrick; solid Patrick who could be relied on to make tea in a time of crisis, being here. Standing with him at the service. Holding his hand, maybe. Suddenly David wanted that fiercely.

“It would help,” he managed to choke out.

“Then I’m going to book a flight.”

“No, you must have work or something—”

“Let me worry about that. When and where is the service?” Patrick asked.

David gave him the information, and at the end of the recitation couldn’t help asking, “Are you sure?”

“I’m buying the plane ticket as we speak,” Patrick said. “I’ll basically need to leave for the airport in…” he paused, “three hours and drive through the night so that I can get the 6:30 a.m. flight out of Toronto, but I can do that.”

“Patrick… thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, David.”

~*~

The church was surrounded by paparazzi, and Patrick was late, and there was a security guard manning the door. But when Patrick gave his name to the guard, he was allowed in and told to take a seat in the back. He shook his head, thinking there was something appropriate about the fact that Alexis Rose’s funeral had an exclusive guest list. Craning his neck, he could just make out David’s black hair at the front of the church.

A priest who even Patrick could tell had never met Alexis was speaking, expressing vague platitudes that probably came out of the manual on funerals for people who die tragically before their time. After that, some women stood up and sang a song that seemed inappropriate as a memorial to a dead person. An aunt got up and told a sepia-toned story about Alexis as a little girl. Then David stood up and approached the lectern. Patrick drank in the sight of him, looking pale and exhausted, clutching a journal against his chest. He hadn’t expected David to be delivering a eulogy. Perhaps his parents didn’t have the strength to do it, and it had fallen to David as the only other close family member.

David cleared his throat and opened his journal and began to speak. “When I first started planning what I was going to say today, I thought about how I would describe Alexis. That she always knew exactly who she was. That she was fearless. That she was unfailingly optimistic about everything. That she had an unquenchable lust for life. But I don’t know if any of that is true.

“The truth is that Alexis could be shallow and self-involved. She forgot to pay attention to the feelings of the people around her. She made bad decisions. She also could be child-like, and enthusiastic, and she knew how to cut right through my bullshit. She was a complicated person who I didn’t always like very much, but who I did… who I did love.

“The truth is also that Alexis was lonely. The truth is she had to grow up way too fast. The truth is that Alexis was always jetting all over the world because she was chasing something that I don’t think she ever found in life: actual joy.

“I had a dream last night that Alexis and I were sharing a tiny little bedroom. Which is pretty funny, because Alexis and I never shared a room in our lives. We would have despised sharing a room, because she was such a slob…” He seemed to choke up at this, and paused for a few seconds to collect himself before continuing. “But the thing is, in this dream she was happy in a way I never really saw her in life. She was content. I hope that wherever my sister is, she’s found that contentment.”

David walked away from the podium and retook his seat, and Patrick could feel the stunned hush of a crowd who hadn’t expected anyone to say anything like that. Nothing that raw and honest. The priest also seemed surprised as he stood up and welcomed the next speaker, one of Alexis’ friends who seemed more interested in visibly crying in front of a crowd than in saying anything meaningful about Alexis. Patrick understood why David had said his sister was lonely if this was what her friends were like.

When the service was over, Patrick went outside to sit on a bench and wait. He wasn’t sure what to do now — he wanted to go to David and be near him to provide any support he could, but he also recognized that as a selfish impulse. David had his parents to worry about, he didn’t need the guy he’d gone to bed with two months ago hanging around. Suddenly, the fact that Patrick had shelled out hundreds of dollars for a last-minute plane ticket and a rental car struck him as insanity.

“You came.”

Patrick looked up from the paving stones he’d been staring at to see David, sunlight haloing his hair. Standing up, Patrick tried to offer a supportive smile. “I said I would.”

David shrugged. “People don’t necessarily do what they say they’ll do.”

“I do.” Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off of David. After two months, seeing him felt like seeing a mirage.

“So, I have to go to the gravesite now for the burial, which is just family,” David said, indicating a waiting limousine.

“Oh. Right, of course.”

“But people will be coming to the house afterwards. Can you come there? I think I sent you the address before.”

Patrick nodded, relieved. “I’ll be there. David, I’m so, so sorry.”

The corner of David’s mouth turned down, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Uncertain what to do, Patrick got in his rental car and drove to a nearby McDonald’s. The past twelve hours of travel had screwed up the rhythms of mealtimes, and other than a bagel at the airport and a meager bag of pretzels, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Sitting down with his tray, he stared at his unappetizing burger and wondered why he’d ordered it. He ate a fry, eyes trained on the acrylic tabletop.

When he figured that enough time had gone by, Patrick got back in the car and drove to David’s parents’ house. The gate was imposing enough (where again he had to give his name to be admitted), but the mansion that was revealed as he drove up the long driveway was even more so. He turned his car key over to a valet, wondering what it had been like, growing up in a place like this. Another piece of the David Rose puzzle slotted into place.

The house was filled with mourners, drinks and small plates of food in hand, talking in hushed tones. Patrick stood in the middle of it and stared up at the family portrait that dominated the great hall, trying to see the man he cared about in the haughty version of David Rose in the painting.

After some wandering, Patrick finally found David in the kitchen, giving instructions to the caterers.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” David said, his eyes still flitting around the room, his focus on oversight of the food.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.”

An older woman came into the kitchen and picked up one of the trays of finger sandwiches to carry back out to the guests.

“Adelina, you don’t work here anymore; you don’t have to do that.”

“I have to do something,” she said. “And you don’t get to tell me what to do, mijo.”

David rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t stay on your feet too long, please.”

Adelina muttered something in Spanish and left the room with her tray.

“She practically raised us,” David explained. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Of course,” Patrick replied, following David through a back door of the kitchen up some utility stairs to the upper floor of the house. David led them into a tastefully-decorated bedroom that was about half the size of the house Patrick had grown up in.

“Is this your childhood bedroom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” David said, sitting on the bed. “Listen, I’m sorry for the way I behaved when you left New York—”

“Please don’t worry about that now.” Patrick sat at David’s side. “I don’t want you to have to think about that now.”

“No, I was an asshole,” David said. “We hadn’t made any plans or promises, it’s not like you were—”

“Believe me, David, I wanted to stay.” Patrick laughed uncomfortably and looked down at his hands. “Two nights with you and I was…” He stopped, unable to admit the way he’d been feeling. The way he was still feeling. “I’ve thought about you a lot, the last two months.”

David cleared his throat. “I can’t help but notice you aren’t wearing your wedding ring.”

“I told Rachel everything the day I got back. We’re separated.”

“Oh. Well, that must be very hard.”

“It is, but it’s also…” Patrick clutched his hands together, worrying the webbing of skin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve also never felt more free. I came out to my parents and the world didn’t end. So even if I never saw you again, I would have been forever grateful to you for being the instrument of this change in my life. And then I saw what happened to Alexis, and I just… I had to call, even if you wanted nothing to do with me.”

David looked up at the ceiling like he was trying not to cry. “I’ve thought about you a lot these last two months, too,” he whispered, and then David was leaning in and his mouth was on Patrick’s, insistent and everything Patrick had been dreaming about.

Except David had just lost his sister, and as soon as Patrick gained some control of himself, he pulled away. “David, is now really the right—”

“I just need to… not think about being sad for a while, okay? Can I… can I just have a few minutes where I’m not thinking about what happened?”

Patrick put his hand on David’s cheek and nodded his head. “Of course. Of course you can have that.”

Their mouths met in a frantic press, teeth clacking together as they both tried to deepen the kiss. David’s hand was already unbuttoning the buttons of Patrick’s shirt, trembling, and Patrick did his best to shrug out of his suit jacket while their mouths were still fused together.

When he brought his hands up to resume caressing David’s face, Patrick’s fingers came away wet, and he broke the kiss again. “David—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” David said, but he clearly wasn’t. His hands were shaking and the tears were starting to flow more freely now, so Patrick pulled the other man into his arms. That made the dam break, and the sound of pure grief that tore from David’s throat in that moment shattered Patrick’s heart.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Patrick murmured, holding David as he sobbed into Patrick’s shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, David’s tears soaking into Patrick’s shirt as Patrick rocked him gently and murmured quiet words into David’s hair. He wasn’t even sure what he said. Patrick supposed this was why he had come, although he couldn’t have expected David would be willing to rely on him as a shoulder to cry on. And yet somehow Patrick felt like he had known he was needed here, even as all reason and logic had said that it was a mistake to come.

When David’s tears dried up, when he finally let go of his death grip around Patrick’s torso, Patrick reached out to run his thumbs under David’s eyes. “Do you need to go back to the people downstairs?”

David shook his head. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Do you want to try to get some sleep? Or do you want me to go get you some food?”

“Sleep,” David said. “If you’ll… stay?”

“Of course I will.”

~*~

Patrick woke up to the sound of water running in the bathroom, and then David emerged, walking over and getting back into bed.

“What time is it?” Patrick asked.

“1:15.”

Patrick rubbed his face, trying to orient himself in space and time. Between his complete lack of sleep the night before and falling asleep in the early evening with David, he felt hazy and disoriented. “Are you okay?” Patrick asked.

“Just a nightmare about Alexis. I’m getting used to them.”

Patrick reached out and touched David’s back, feeling the way sweat had soaked through his t-shirt. “It might feel better to change your shirt.”

He could just make out David nodding in the dim light before he got up and went over to a large armoire, pulling off his shirt. Patrick watched as David took everything off and put on a fresh shirt and underwear before coming back to bed.

“I keep seeing her drowning in my dreams,” David sighed, getting back under the covers. Patrick put an arm around him and David put his head down on Patrick’s chest, his arm draped across Patrick’s midsection and their legs tangling together. It was nice. It was scary, how nice it was. How well they seemed to fit together, like they’d been sharing a bed for ages.

“And I don’t know what to do now that the funeral is over,” David continued. “It was easier when I had a list of things to take care of. Now it just seems like an endless amount of time stretching out in front of me with nothing in it but grief.”

“Maybe focusing on your gallery will help?”

David shook his head, his hair brushing against Patrick’s nose. “I’m going to close the gallery.”

“Why?”

“Because according to my father’s business manager it’s hemorrhaging money, and the family can’t really afford to keep it open any more.”

“David, I’m sorry.” He tightened his grip on David’s shoulder. “Maybe I can help? I can look at the books?”

“That’s a very kind offer, but even I can understand that if I don’t sell any art, it doesn’t make financial sense to keep the gallery.”

“You don’t sell any art?”

“Not lately. And to be honest, since Alexis died I don’t know if I even care anymore. For that matter, I don’t care if I even stay in New York. Maybe I’ll sell the apartment too and make a fresh start somewhere else.”

Patrick pressed a kiss against the top of David’s head. “Okay, David, I don’t want to second guess you here, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to make these kinds of huge decisions when you’re grieving the loss of someone close to you.”

David’s breath hitched, and Patrick feared he might have triggered another crying jag, but when David spoke, his voice was even. “Okay, maybe I’ll hold off on selling the apartment. But… I need a change of scenery. I need to get away from everything that brings back memories of my sister, at least for a little while.”

“Come home with me,” Patrick said, and then his mouth dropped open with shock that those words had come out of his mouth.

David raised his head from Patrick’s shoulder and looked at him. “Come home with you?”

“No, I mean… if you’re looking for a change of scenery you could… I just got a new apartment and you’re welcome to stay with me for a few days if you need to.” He chuckled nervously, wishing David’s leg wasn’t pinning him down because he felt a sudden need to put some space between them. “There’s nowhere less like New York than my hometown.”

David moved his head around for a second before saying, “Okay.”

“You actually want to come stay at my place? Because I should probably warn you, the restaurants where I live leave a lot to be desired.”

Meeting his eyes, David said, “I wouldn’t be going with you for the night life.”

Patrick kissed him then, just a gentle peck on the lips, but it felt significant. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Chapter 10

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #hdwgb fic #my fic

12 notes · View notes

stunudo · 5 years ago

Text

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Series

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country.

2016-2017, Class of 18, Previous Chapter: Scavenger Hunt

Warnings: Infidelity, sexuality crisis and character death.

Break It...

Saturday March 24, 2018

10 am Grant Anderson’s Townhouse

Luke had barely slept, the fear and worry cascading into frustration and self-pity. Grant had seen Phil propose, though Luke hadn’t responded to his ex’s messages for months. Luke was desperate; Grant hadn’t answered any of his calls and left his texts on read. He parked in front of Luke’s place and waited, too nervous to be turned away, too devoted to let Grant go without the truth. Without a fight. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He climbed from his truck and hopped up the stairs, knowing he was being watched. Luke cleared his throat and knocked on the heavy oak door. He counted to thirty and peeked into the framing windows, but there was no movement inside. He knocked again and waited fruitlessly.

“You just missed him,” a wizened voice offered from the upstairs balcony.

“That so? Thanks Mrs. Armenson,” Luke waved. “Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“You know I don’t like to pry into you boys’ business,” the old lady whispered, patting at the curls at the nape of her neck. “The way he’d been talking it sounded like you had big plans. Honey, why aren’t you with him? Did you get your signals crossed?”

Luke sighed. “Yeah, something like that.”

They said their goodbyes, but Luke was even more disheartened then when he arrived. Grant had a special weekend planned and he had ruined. Well, Phil had ruined it, but the guilt was still on him. He waved at Grant’s upstairs neighbor and pulled off out of the angled parking spot on the quiet street.

Sunday March 25

The Hotchners’

8:32am

Kate had been dying to get outside, the entire winter felt like she was trapped in one building or another. So, once they had the chance, and the weather allowed, she and Haley met for coffees with their nearly identical strollers. There was a great little bakery just passed the next subdivision that Haley had been meaning to try and Kate didn’t mind some carbs to balance the one-and-a-half-mile round trip. The air was chilly, but Kit and Jack were bundled up. Haley wore a windbreaker in FBI scarlet while Kate wore a Columbia fleece pullover, free hand tucked into the pocket until she built up her body temperature.

Jack was babbling and pointing at the ducks in the pond as they passed, Kit sucked on his fingers and snuggled his plush stegosaurus that Penelope had “left behind” the last time she and Derek babysat.

“Earth to Kate,” Haley giggled. “Where were you lady? You seem distracted.”

Kate gave her best friend a tired smile, shrugging. “I guess I just have a lot going on this semester. I can’t believe it’s Easter next week.”

“Early spring breaks can be a godsend, but something tells me that this stress or whatever isn’t—entirely--- student related,” Haley was an amazing listener and just as good at reading people as her husband. That’s why Kate and she got along so well: empathy.

Kate shrugged and let the flush fill her cheeks before she faced Haley’s concerned eyes. She changed hands pushing the stroller and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking at her wedding band wrapped around her engagement ring as the truth bubbled inside her.

“It’s been really difficult this semester, because of Tara,” Kate started.

Haley’s features furrowed. “I don’t understand, I thought you got a long with her since she took Jason’s spot?”

Kate swallowed back a groan and covered her eyes in embarrassment, she suddenly felt sixteen again. “It’s not that I don’t get a long with her, it’s that I very much get a long with her. Like, like her, like her.”

“Like her, like her? Kate-- are you bi?! How did I not know this?” Haley’s voice went up into almost shrill levels before she got it under control. They were perched at a crosswalk, waiting for the lights to change to enter the parking lot of the bakery.

“I don’t know! I don’t if that’s what this is, Hales, honestly. It’s just. We kissed on New Year’s and—” Kate was cut off.

“Excuse me?! You what on New Year’s?! WHY AM I ONLY HEARING THIS NOW, KATHRYN CALLAHAN?!” Haley barked after her friend, who had started scampering across the street. By the time Haley and Jack caught up with Kate and Kit, they were wedging the door open to check if there was room for both of their strollers.

“I need details, Kate, this is--- just--- Does Chris know?!” Haley was stage whispering as they tugged their sons from their seats. Tossing diaper bags and blankets over their shoulders as they wove around the cramped space.

“It was a mistletoe thing, I froze. But it was—” Kate broke off, considering.

“Magical?” Haley offered almost sadly.

“Yeah.” They found a table, but there was only one highchair, leaving Kate to hold Kit on her lap since he was older, more prone to wander and squirm.

“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Haley looked hurt, which just added more guilt to the confusing chaos inside Kate.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time, just slightly tipsy bad choices. But now—” Kates eyebrows shot up telling Haley more than her words could articulate. They quickly placed their orders, taking turns watching the boys as they settled with their coffees and muffins.

“What are you going to do?” Haley asked, tearing her croissant into Jack-sized pieces.

Kate shrugged and shook her head. “What can I do? I married. We’re happy. This isn’t just something that changes all that. I mean, people have crushes, it doesn’t stop the world.”

“No, but this has been months, Kate. Just, be careful. Okay?” Haley clasped her hand over Kate’s on the table.

“I will, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just, confusing for now.”

Haley gave her a compassionate grimace and the conversation moved on. To teething, spring break plans, Meg, redecorating the nursery into a big boy room, potty training and all manner of things that come up with young mothers whose lives are so intertwined. It was a mystery that Kate had kept the secret as long as she had, but it felt good to have it out there. Even if Haley was certain to tell Aaron later that night, Kate knew she had made the right choice in confidant.

Monday March 26

The Faculty Parking Lot

3:22pm

Dave didn’t need to be at the school as many hours as he usually was, but without something or someone pulling him home it was easy to putz around the expansive kitchen. He strolled out to his two-seater sports car, nothing absurd like the students drove, but still the nicest among the staff. When the car beeped unlocked, he spotted a young woman approach. She looked to be in her late twenties with large brown eyes and a flawless russet complexion.

“David Rossi?” She called to him; some sort of folder clutched to her chest.

“That depends on who’s asking,” the suddenly suspicious chef replied. Life wasn’t always bountiful in his line of work; he’d been served a time or two in his youth from debt collectors mostly.

“Family,” she answered after gauging his expression. That threw the old Italian for a loop.

“Whose family exactly?”

“Yours. I believe—you’re my father, Mr. Rossi.” She paused, but the almost angry expression on the man’s face somehow pushed her onward. “My name is Joy Struthers, my mother is Hayden Montgomery.”

The wind rushed through nooks of the school, spiraling in the parking lot with biting freshness.

“And what makes you think that I’m your father? Hayden and I—that was a long time ago.”

“Thirty-one years ago, in August. Today is my thirtieth birthday. This is kind of a resolution for me.” She smiled brightly, the buzz of finding him and coming forward piggy backing on the adrenaline from her nervousness.

Dave was dumbstruck, the resemblance to her mother was apparent, but he couldn’t see himself in this beautiful stranger.

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, almost sheepishly.

“I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought we should meet. I have some pictures and a copy of my birth certificate and an open DNA panel—if you want to verify what I’m saying.” Joy handed Dave the manila envelope. “That that and, if you want, maybe we could go to lunch sometime?”

“You live in Virginia?” He took the envelope but didn’t delve into the assorted papers.

“Just moved back, got a new job and luckily my husband can work remotely.”

“Husband?” Dave raised his eyebrows.

“Shawn, yeah, and our son Kai. We just moved from San Francisco.” Joy nodded.

“Are you telling me that I’m a grandpa?” He smirked now, digging in to find a recent family picture, his ex, beaming in the background.

“He’s almost four,” Joy explained proudly.

“How’s Hayden?”

“Good, she’s back in Paris for now. I had a stepdad; he was a really good man. But he died a few years ago.” Joy trailed off. “But that’s not why I’m here, not really.”

“Look, this is all a little much for me to process,” Dave started. “We’ve got spring break coming up next week--- why don’t we do that lunch you offered?”

Thursday March 28

Latin Class

3:08pm

Iggy Cruz was restless, his leg bobbing in place the entire 8th period. It was the last day before vacation and he wanted nothing more than to leave these brick walls and pretentious uniforms behind. Senioritis is real and he had developed a severe case. The clock ticked the seconds away above the door and Luke Alvez knew Iggy wasn’t the only one who was lost it its hypnosis.

Finally, the bell rang out freeing them all, student and faculty alike for ten glorious days. He shoved his Latin book in his locker and impatiently waited for Rita to catch up to him after her math class. The halls were pouring out students into the lawn and parking lots, teasing warmth of the spring sun shining across the grounds. Relieved excitement flooded back on passing faces, countless voices echoing and floating away. Iggy nodded toward his car at Rita, who had started texting Jax the moment they were out of the building.

She followed without looking up, sliding into the passenger seat with practiced ease. Iggy cranked the bass on his stereo, covering all of the commotion around them. He pulled into the line of cars waiting to leave the parking lot and wind off the long drive back to the secluded road that kept F.B.I. hidden in the woods. Rita started squealing at something on her phone and Iggy gave her the older brother stink eye before looking back to the car in front of him. They had progressed three car lengths in the time it took Iggy to regain his focus; he floored the gas to catch up. At the last second, Iggy saw Mrs. Todd as she was thrown against their hood. He screamed, swerving too late and tossing a hand out to hold Rita back. They slammed into a car still parked, airbags deploying, momentum tossing the math teacher back to the ground. Iggy’s face fought the air bag, his leg pinned as the driver’s side door and wheel caved around him.

Time froze as Rita panicked, Iggy was talking, but people were screaming and running all around them. The curtain of white couldn’t hide the horror forever.

Alex Blake’s flat

11:13pm

Matt Simmons hadn’t been home. After the ambulances cleared the parking lot, he stayed with Hotch, Penelope and Kate with the kids making statements to the cops. Their parents were less than agreeable, but a teacher had died, and two students were on their way to the hospital. It was a long day, even for a former warfront journalist. He found himself driving after stopping for coffee and something doughy to chew on. When he realized where his car (and subconscious) had taken him, he parked in a hurry. Long legs pulling him up the stairwell along the back of her building.

He didn’t text her in warning or call ahead, he simply knocked. He knew she wouldn’t be asleep. In fact he wasn’t sure she would ever let herself be that vulnerable.

“Matt? What is it? What’s the matter?!” Alex answered, in a controlled concern, smooth and soothing. Her eyes were wide, but her full lips were in a straight-lined frown.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he offered.

“Now?” She asked, squinting, taking stock of his state.

“Yeah, now, tonight,” his eyes sparkled as lip quirked in a sexy smirk.

Alex’s mouth opened and closed a few times, swallowing the air as she considered it. “I don’t know, we leave Monday for New York—”

“I can call Emily, there aren’t that many kids going. Derek and Penelope can handle it, maybe JJ will go too, now.” He had crossed the threshold, brushing the thick strands of hair from her face. He loved the silver sparkling in the dim light, the deep lines around her lips as she tried to reason out of his request.

“Alex, let’s go, after everything today. I don’t want to keep playing this game. I want you. I want to be with you. Just let me?” His thumb stroked her cheek and she finally remembered to breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen to women her age, whirlwind romances were for nimbler souls. She thought she was passed this kind of sensationalism. She was wrong and that was never easy for her to admit. She placed her hand on Matt’s broad chest, feeling him real and solid and impossibly able in front of her.

“Alright,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Yeah?” Matt pulled her chin up to lock into her fathomless eyes.

“I said alright, Simmons, don’t make me repeat myself,” she huffed, rolling her eyes before reaching up on tip toes to press her lips to his.

^*^*^

#BAU Prep School AU #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm au #luke alvez #hotch #tara lewis #kate callahan #grant anderson #jordan todd #matt simmons #alex blake #haley hotchner #David Rossi

22 notes · View notes

burgundydahlia · 6 years ago

Note

What do Ron and Hermione love most about each other

So, I’m pretty sure you meant this in a much more practical sense: like, Hermione loves Ron’s eyes. She loves the way they swim somewhere between green and blue like the ocean; how they shine when he laughs; how they soften when he looks at their children; how they fill with a fiery passion when the two of them are alone. And she loves the firm, yet gentle, feel of his hands on her and how he always finds a reason to touch her, whether it’s holding her hand as they walk into the Burrow for Sunday dinner or briefly running his fingertips across her lower back or her forearm when he brushes past her as he moves about the room.

And Ron loves Hermione’s wild hair - the smell of it, the feel of it in his hands, the way it catches the light and looks like a halo around her. Hell, he even loves how when he wakes up in the morning he’s often surrounded by it like a jungle he’s gotten lost in. He often rolls closer to her, burying himself deeper inside it and breathes in deeply, kissing her curls as he smiles. And he loves her smile and how she has a different one for each occasion. Like how her mouth curls upwards like the Cheshire cat when she’s excited about something or has a particularly brilliant idea, and the broad, toothy smile she shines at their children when she plays with them or reads to them before bed at night. Though his favorite might still be the smile she saves just for him; it starts at her eyes, warming them and making them sparkle, and then spreads to her cheeks, turning them a delicate shade of pink, before traveling to her mouth. She bites her bottom lip briefly, tugging on the skin until it turns opaque, then her lips bloom and curl into the most dazzling smile he’s ever seen. No matter how much time passes, it always makes his heart skip a beat.

And I think there are a million of things like those examples above that they love about each other. But for some reason, I’m feeling a little more creative today so I’m going to try and give a slightly more nuanced answer. I’m putting it under the cut, so I hope you’ll enjoy :)

I think there’s a lot of things, both big and small, that they love about each other. And I think over the years and as their relationship grows and evolves some of those things change as well.

For example, when they’re eighteen and newly free from the pain and terror of the war, I think they love that they can be vulnerable and raw with one another. They’ve been stripped away of all pretense and have seen each other at their lowest moments. But rather than being scared off or uncomfortable, they love each other all the more for it. They prop one another up and find both comfort and a means of healing themselves in their efforts to heal each other.

As they begin to really move into being a normal, new relationship, they love discovering new little things about each other. Hermione loves how Ron surprises her with kisses, and how he looks a bit dazed after each one like he still cannot believe that he gets to do that whenever he wants. She loves how his chest puffs out a bit when he refers to her as his girlfriend and how he is genuinely proud of her for going back to Hogwarts to finish her last year there. She also loves how he’s protective, but not overbearing, and how he is gentle and patient with her and shockingly romantic. While Ron loves how Hermione supports him and is often his loudest champion; in fact, she doesn’t just support him in his decision to split his time at the shop and working as an Auror rather than returning to Hogwarts, she immediately creates a daily calendar and routine for him to follow in order to make sure he doesn’t burn out by spreading himself too thin. He loves how she sends him a letter every single day when she’s away, giving intricate and often mundane detail so he knows how she’s doing because she knows he worries, and how she ends each one with a numbered countdown to the next time they get to see one another in person. And when they’re together, he loves how Hermione curls herself against him, wrapping her arms and legs around him like vines creeping up old castle walls, and how she whispers his name like it’s somewhere between a prayer and an incantation. And they both love how they flush red when they touch one another and that neither of them ever get tired of saying, or hearing, the words, “I love you.”

When they’re twenty-two and still reveling in the newness of marriage, they love the calm and stability they find in each other and their newfound domesticity. Hermione loves coming home to see him there, like an incredible light at the end of a tunnel, and loves that without fail he comes to greet her at the door (she’s always home after him) with a kiss and a lopsided smile. She loves how confident he is in his work and how wildly proud he is of her accomplishments as well. And she also cannot express just how much she loves that he cooks and will rave to anyone who will listen (and even some who don’t want to) about just how incredible his cottage pie is. And Ron loves the quiet rhythm they’ve established; how Hermione wakes before him and makes coffee and breakfast for them both and how she always kisses him first thing in the morning when they wake up and again at night before they go to bed. He loves that she has secret stashes of books hidden around their home and how she always seems to be reading at least four of them simultaneously. He also loves saying, “My wife,” when he talks about her to others, to the point where some members of his family have started to remind him that they know who Hermione is and don’t need him to constantly refer to her as some sort of official title. Hermione, however, blushes when he says it and she beams at him. Ron then kisses her forehead, mumbling it against her skin once more as she shivers against him and they both fall a little bit more in love with one another.

When they’re thirty and the parents of not just one, but now two small children, they love one another for things they might not have ever considered before. Hermione loves Ron for how quickly he’ll wake up from a deep sleep and rush into the nursery when Hugo starts to fuss and how he can make Rose scream with laughter by doing silly voices, not to mention how he never complains about having to deal with a disastrous nappy or a toddler meltdown. And Ron loves Hermione for the quiet patience she exhibits with their children, listening to Rose when she’s babbling nonsense and how she engages her in conversation with genuine interest at what she’s saying. Or how she hums a little tune to Hugo whenever she’s giving him a bath or feeding him, and how she always rocks him to sleep and reads to Rose every night, and how she showers both children in kisses before she leaves for work, trying to stretch out her time every morning because he knows that although she loves her work, she truly hates leaving her family.

When they’re forty-one and both their children are officially at Hogwarts, they love one another because they don’t have to be Mum and Dad first, but get to be husband and wife again. They love each other because they know they miss their children, but now that it’s just the two of them at the house they get to have a lie in together on the weekends; they can turn a random Tuesday night into a date night at their favorite local restaurant; they can, and do, spend an hour in the shower together just like they used to do in their early twenties. Ron specifically loves that Hermione writes long, detailed letters to both Hugo and Rose every week, making sure each one is personal and individualized. He loves that she sometimes sits in Rose or Hugo’s rooms as she reads because it makes her feel closer to them and that she plans massive feasts and holiday celebrations when they come home at Christmas and Easter. Hermione loves that Ron regularly sends sweets and goods from the shop along with notes of encouragement, reminding Rose and Hugo that they need to take care of one another and to please listen to McGonagall and Hagrid. She loves that he has every single Gryffindor Quidditch match marked in bold, red letters on their calendar in their kitchen, that he’s louder than every other person sitting in the stands the first time he sees Rose fly out onto the pitch, and that he posts Hugo’s marks on the wall behind him at the shop because he’s so proud of him for being just as brilliant as his mum.

And through all their time together - over all the years and the ups and downs, they mostly love that they are still each others’ best friends. They are still the first people they want to talk to when something happens, be it a crisis or a question or if they have something to celebrate. They are partners, through and through, and the ultimate team. But more than that they love each other because they choose one another, over and over and over again and will continue to do so even when they’re old and grey.

Thanks for the ask, Nonny!

#ama #ask me anything #ask burgundydahlia #romione #ronmione #romione headcanons #ron weasley #hermione granger #fluff #romione fluff

111 notes · View notes