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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

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The 5 times Jake & Amy tried to get some ‘alone time’ during the holidays (and the 1 time they’re successful)

Here is my entry into the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Challenge, for @peraltasames 💗 also available on ao3, as it is a little long ☺️

(For those of you playing at home, only part 2 is NSFW 🙊)

Part 1:

(where it all begins)

Attempt number 1: The Santiago Family Holiday House

“Thought I might find you here.”

Lifting her head up from its resting place in the crook of her arm, Amy doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that began to creep onto her face the moment she’d picked up on Jake’s voice.

She cocks her head to the side as he falters mid-step, an obvious blush creeping onto his cheeks as he lifts his hands, raising two bottles in mock surrender. “I mean, obviously I didn’t know that you’d be out here … I’ve never been here before and that’s giving off some real Creepy New Boyfriend vibes. You know what, I’m just going to reset and start again.” Digging one sneakered heel into the landing, he does a quick full body turn before Amy can give any type of reassurance; blinking quickly when their eyes meet again to indicate a Full Reset. “Hey, Ames! Your brother mentioned that you might be out here, so I thought I’d do something completely non-stalkery and bring you a drink.”

Chuckling, Amy reaches out for one of the offered bottles, riding that still new high that comes from hearing Jake Peralta refer to himself as her boyfriend. “Thanks, babe.”

It’s Jake’s turn to grin right back, clearly enjoying her use of their favourite new term for each other; a colloquial word that still seemed kinda new - given it’s only been four months since they got together - yet somehow fits so well it’s almost a little strange to remember a time when they couldn’t refer to each other as such. There’s a shared giddiness that floats between them as they clink bottles and take a sip, and her cheeks kinda hurt from smiling this much, but Amy really doesn’t care.

Gesturing at the expanse of the relatively simple deck, Jake takes in the wooden panelling of the exterior walls before turning his attention back to his girlfriend. “So … this is your little secret hideout, I hear?”

Nodding, Amy returns to her earlier position leaning against the high railing in front of her, letting out a soft yeah as her free hand runs along the timber paling.

Built by her grandfather as a home away from the city several decades ago, the Santiago Lake House has long been considered a place of refuge for the family. With six of her brothers, two uncles and her father Victor on the force, common holidays were rarely guaranteed off; and so this year they had elected a non-particular weekend in June as their opportunity for all to come together. Save for a last-minute issue at Victor’s precinct pulling him away from the festivities, all eight Santiago siblings (and their mother Camila) had arrived earlier today for a well overdue holiday.

While the majority of her family often preferred to gather around the oversized back deck, from a young age Amy had gravitated towards the more intimate side balcony that overlooked the water. Stretching out from the family room situated on the second floor, the surrounding tree tops lent a sense of privacy the back deck couldn’t completely offer; and on the evenings when things began to feel a little too loud, Amy would often come up here to decompress, watching the night slip by as the moon silvered the lake before her.

Taking a sip of his beer, Jake moves to stand next to Amy, resting his weight against the banister as he drinks in the view. “I really like it.” A small army of goosebumps appear on Amy’s skin, despite the dusk’s only slightly fading heat, as his arm brushes against her skin. “Perfectly compact, with a great view.” She can sense him grin, shoulder nudging against hers. “Feels like you.”

Amy feels her cheeks heat up as a blush washes over her, grateful that the relative darkness of the almost night sky would be able to hide her reaction. Jake was the very first boyfriend she’d ever brought to the lake house - a fact that Manny had announced very loudly in the middle of the private tour she had been giving earlier - and the look of elation and pride that had taken over Jake’s features at the discovery has remained fresh in her mind for the past few hours.

(It had never been an overly deliberate action, to keep previous boyfriends away from the lake house, but the thought of Jake joining in, within a minute of the date being set, had been so automatic that Amy is only now realising that the concept of being here without him had seemed completely illogical.)

A melody played from Luis’ acoustic guitar is carried up to the two of them by a sudden breeze, cutting through the tops of the surrounding pine, and Amy lets out a small shiver: forever and always susceptible to the cold, regardless of the lingering summer heat. Without missing a beat; Jake moves to stand behind her - covering her back with his front with the instinct of not only a gentleman, but a man who is very quickly taking complete hold of her heart.

His arms come to rest besides hers along the edge of the bannister, and quietly Amy hopes that he cannot feel the rapid pounding of her heart through her jacket. It felt a little ridiculous to act this way, like some kind of lovesick teenager drawing hearts all over her notebook, but dating Jake for the past four months doesn’t seem to have taken the edge off the way his presence made her feel.

“So …. Tell me about David.”

As hard as she tries to avoid it, Amy feels her shoulders tense up - the urge to let out an exaggerated UGH almost too strong to resist. She’d only touched on David’s presence briefly on the drive up to the lake house, and despite her own personal reservations, she supposed it was sort of fair that Jake might have a few questions. Letting out a calming breath, Amy gives herself a quick reminder to keep her responding tone light. “What would you like to know?”

“Uhh … well, look - the way his photo is displayed on that mantel in the formal lounge, and the clear adoration in your mother’s voice whenever his name came up made me wonder if he was on some super secret mission to Mars or something.” Shaking his head, Jake knocks the lip of the beer bottle against his forehead. “I honestly spent the first twenty minutes of polite chatter frantically rewinding all of our conversations over the last few years in my head, trying to remember you ever bringing up something like that. Thank god he walked in when he did, or I’m sure I would’ve ended up saying something really stupid.”

Knowing that Jake can’t necessarily see her (okay, perhaps childish) reaction, Amy rolls her eyes at the mention of Camila’s unfiltered reverence when it comes to David. “Yeah, he’s basically the ‘Do No Wrong’ guy … The Golden Child, as Julian and I like to call him. It’s kinda always been like that, ever since he came home from first grade with a report card filled with gold star stickers and praise from literally every teacher he’d ever been in contact with.”

Swallowing his last swig of beer, Jake scoffs into the night sky. “Gold stars are cool, I guess. But any fool knows that the scratch-n-sniff stickers are where it’s really at.”

“Obviously. Strawberry, the clear winner.”

His free hand landing on her forearm, Jake squeezes gently. “I’d always been partial to grape, but strawberry just reminds me of that chapstick you use before bed now, and I am a big fan of those strawberry kisses to start my morning.”

Craning her head to the side slightly, Amy flashes Jake a grin before meeting him halfway for a soft kiss. She, too, had become a big fan of morning kisses … and afternoon kisses, night kisses … basically any time she got to feel the pressure of Jake’s lips against her own was a winner in her book - and she knows she’s being a little ridiculous but she also really, really likes him. Remembering their previous conversation as she pulls away, Amy shakes her head slightly before looking out onto the lake again.

“It’s worse at home, if I’m being honest - it’s basically the same shrine on the mantel, only at home we have a piano in the living room as well. So … how well you’re doing at school or work or whatever, determines your position either on the piano or the wall of shame above the staircase.”

“I mean … I’m sure it’s not meant to feel like a wall of shame, babe.”

Amy nods, letting out a quick I want to believe you laugh. “Tell that to Tony. One semester, he wasn’t focusing as much as normal, and his grade dropped by a whole level. Two days after he came home with the results, Mama conveniently decided to do a redesign of the living room - one that just so happened to include the shuffling of Tony’s school portrait from next to mine on the piano, to sitting at the bottom of the staircase.”

Taking a long sip of Cristal, Amy pauses to take stock of the conversation. It felt slightly traitorous to be talking to Jake about the hierarchy that - prior to this evening - she’d only ever discussed with her brothers (minus one). There’s never been a question over whether their mother loved them dearly - an abundance of love was palpable between the walls of both their family home and the holiday house - but it was also impossible to deny that the shadow of David’s successes, paired with Camila’s obvious praise, had loomed over Amy’s shoulders during her many late night study sessions.

This wasn’t the first time talking to Jake had led to Amy admitting more than she would to most - he had that (at times, irritating) ability to sneak past her guard long before they’d been anything more than colleagues. But one of her most favourite details of their new relationship, aside from the why-did-we-wait-so-long-for-this sex, was the amount of nights they would stay up just … talking. They’d learnt more about each other in the past four months than the last two years combined, and still she craves more. Shaking her now empty bottle, Amy stoops to place it on the ground beside her before straightening, sighing in contentment as Jake’s shoulders rest against hers once again.

“Eventually, Tony’s photo found its way back to the piano .. but the message was pretty clear.” Letting out a rueful laugh, she shakes her head slightly. “It’s no secret that I love a bit of friendly competition. But … it’d be kinda nice if the rungs of the ladder weren’t always so far away from each other.”

At the feeling of Jake’s lips pressing into her hair Amy lets out one last sigh, surprising herself with just how lighter her shoulders seem to feel. A silence stretches between them as Jake drains the last of his beer, and just when she’s about to change the subject completely, he speaks.

“So. There’s a little known fact about me, that you should probably be made aware of now that we’re all smooshing booties offical stylez and whatever.”

Her lips curl up at the term. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yup. Obviously you’re already aware of my titles as Greatest Detective Ever, Badass MC, Amazing Lover, Fierce Defender of Good from Evil ..”

“Oh god, is this list ever going to end?”

“… Master dunker at B-ball, unofficially official taste tester of any and all sour candies … but! What you might not know is that I am also a crazy good Hype Man. Like .. the best. All the others can just go home coz I kick the most butt at hyping things up and that’s just the facts.”

Turning her head slightly towards Jake, Amy glances up at her boyfriend from the corner of her eyes. “I feel like there was a point you were making, here?”

Depositing his empty bottle along the far edge of the banister, Jake’s hands return to weave their fingers through both of Amy’s, staying close as she watches him take a heavy swallow. Sensing that something important was about to be said, and that Jake may not be at the Locked Eyes Grand Gesture stage just yet, she trains her gaze towards the lake and waits.

“What I’m saying, Ames, is that I am officially signing up to be your hype man. I will literally have zero hesitation in pointing out your awesomeness to anybody that doesn’t immediately see it, and I just ..” Pausing for a moment, he shuffles closer to her back, squeezing their gripped fingers tightly, and she takes no hesitation in squeezing right back. “You need to know that … no matter what happens. I’m always going to be there, cheering you on.”

The unspoken definition of the no matter what happens hangs between them, the mere mention of anything but the two of them staying together sounding both unwelcome and impossible, and Amy nods against his chest.

“I just …. They could rewire the stars with your accolades, Ames. The fact that it goes over anybody’s head baffles me, let alone somewhere like here.”

She nods again, temporarily unable to speak as unexpected tears begin to threaten their escape. There were an abundance of reports and awards that spoke of her achievements, and logically she knew that any task that she set her mind to could be mastered with relative ease.

But to know that Jake not only noticed her triumphs, but wanted to actually (and, perhaps literally) shout them from the rooftops, meant more to Amy than she could have anticipated.

He presses another kiss to her hair, and she holds onto him tightly. There’s so much familiarity surrounding her right now - from the scratch of the logwood bannisters; the filtered laughter of her brothers and their extended families, to the slightly acrid smell of burnt marshmallows as Luis once again fails to make a decent s’more.

Jake’s cologne with it’s spicy notes, and the overall sense of warmth he exudes, should feel foreign amongst it all … but standing here on the balcony with his arms stretched out comfortably on top of her own, Amy cannot deny that it feels less like an intrusion, and more like the final piece of life’s puzzle locking into place.

Her voice cuts through the night, tone soft as she rests her head briefly against Jake’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here, Jake.”

The bridge of Jake’s nose brushes her temple as he dips his head lower, pressing a kiss against her cheekbone, and her heart skips at the simple intimacy of it all. “Me too, Ames.”

His fingers, still interlaced with hers, tighten as he pulls their arms closer to her middle; holding the two of them in a tight embrace as his continues a trail of kisses, letting out a quiet sigh as he follows her jawline. It’s as his teeth begin to graze the outside edge of her earlobe - a guaranteed winning choice - that he begins to whisper, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. “So if I’m officially the first boyfriend you’ve brought here … does that mean there’s a bed somewhere that needs breaking in?”

Grinning, Amy turns in his embrace, releasing her grip on his hands so that she can throw her arms around her boyfriend’s neck and nod. He gives her a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, absorbing her laughter with a slightly longer kiss as his arms wrap around her lower body, and it only takes a moment when he pulls away and looks down at her - but in a moment, she knows.

It’s a combination of things - a curated list of all of her favourite details about him coming together on a hazy June evening: the softness of his touch every time he was near; the warmth of his breath when it ghosted over her skin, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world that he could ever want to kiss. She knows that it’s still technically early days, but as his fingers tip gently underneath her chin and draw her closer for the kind of kiss one doesn’t forget easily, Amy knows for sure that she is most definitely falling in love with Jake Peralta.

It’s the kind of thought - the kind of kiss - that distracts even the most focused of people, and for that reason alone Amy doesn’t hear the heavy thud of Manny’s boots bounding up the staircase until it’s accompanied by his loud Busted! tone.

“Okay amantes - time to come and at least pretend to be sociable with the family, yah?”

Amy’s lips pull away from Jake’s with a smack, swivelling her head towards her brother as she fixes him with a glare. “We’re here for an entire weekend, Manny. Plenty of time for family stuff.”

That frustratingly mischievous glint appears in her brother’s eyes - a sure sign of danger ahead - and Amy pulls away slightly from Jake. “Ah-huh. No biggie, Ma’s just been asking about your new boyfriend Jake, and is wondering where you’d gotten to … I’ll just tell her you’re both up here exploring the backs of each other’s throats, if that’s cool?”

Grabbing her wrist quickly, Jake yelps out a quick “Nope!”, gently pulling Amy towards the staircase. “We were actually just talking about how we should go down and join the crowd, weren’t we Ames?”

Manny makes little to no effort to conceal his laughter as Amy’s response is a continuation of her glare, and he half-turns towards Jake as all three begin their descent towards the back deck. “FYI, my bedroom is right next to yours, and I sleep real light … wouldn’t want to have to tell Mama about the things that go bump in the night, hey hermana?”

“You’ll get yours, manito.” Amy mumbles, linking hands with Jake as they move further away from their private oasis.

There was a very good chance that this was Manny’s version of revenge (she may or may not have stumbled on her brother & his boyfriend last year, something she still swears to have been an accident) but now she’s both turned on and frustrated; knowing that as long as Manny has anything to do with it, there will be No Sex for her and Jake at the lake house.

Truly, she couldn’t think of a worse way to begin a holiday.

(… is that a red light blinking?)

Attempt number 2: Santa Barbara

Jake’s eyebrows lift in surprise as the strength of Amy’s shove forces him into the couch cushions below, body barely settling against the base before she begins scrambling onto his lap.

Responding to his shock with a satisfied grin, Amy rests her hands on either side of his face to pull him in for a kiss, catching his soft moans and joining them with her own as it deepens.

It isn’t until she’s begun to graze her teeth against the base of his neck that she catches her breath, whispering as her body begins to grind down against his - “I’m totally blaming you for this, by the way.”

“I’m not sure what I’m taking the blame for, but as long as you keep kissing me like that I’m pretty much going to admit to anything.”

She laughs, sinking her teeth gently into his shoulder and leaving a kiss in their wake. “You and your hands, stroking up and down my back all night while I was trying to be the attentive and supportive sister. It was driving me crazy, you don’t know how close I came to dragging you into the coat closet.”

The two of them had flown to Santa Barbara for a long weekend to show their support for Amy’s closest (aka: secretly favourite) brother, Miguel. As the only Santiago child not to join the NYPD, Miguel had instead chosen to become a specialist in the medical field, relocating to follow a promotion in California. This evening he was receiving an award from his peers at a gala uptown, and both Jake and Amy had jumped at the chance to attend - if for no other reason than a chance to get away, after months of double shifts and leads that had taken them absolutely nowhere.

Amy had chosen a new dress for the occasion - black material that shimmered in just the right way, with a low-scoop back to avoid the unbearable summer heat. Paired with her signature studs and heels high enough to do some serious damage if provoked, she’d felt like a million dollars walking into the gala on Jake’s arm - and had smiled ever so proudly as Miguel received his award.

The rest of the night, however, has become a vague memory … because all she can remember feeling - all she can remember even thinking about - was the way Jake’s fingers felt as they feathered against her exposed skin. With his arm draped over her chair he’d been given the perfect amount of leeway throughout the ceremony, and the non-sensical patterns of unconscious action on her boyfriend’s end had sent a parade of tingles all over her body with every lap.

Safe to say, once all the awards have been presented and they’d had the chance to congratulate Miguel once again, Amy had slammed down her fourth drink and found a convenient reason for her and Jake to leave. Immediately.

“To be fair Ames, you do look amazing tonight,” Jake mumbled in-between kisses, running his hand over the expanse of her back to demonstrate his appreciation. “Honestly, I’m blaming the dress for making my already hot girlfriend Super Mega Hot.”

She rewards his sweet declaration with a heated kiss, hands making quick work of his tie - loosening the knot with practised ease (she does, after all, fasten and loosen his work tie most days) and casting the fabric aside as she begins to tackle his buttons.

A beachside mansion, owned by a friend of Roger’s, had been offered to be their accommodation for the weekend - an olive branch of sorts towards Jake that he’d begrudgingly accepted (the notion of his parents dating each other, something he was slowly coming to terms with). Their delayed flight this afternoon had meant that Jake and Amy barely had time to dump their bags before getting changed and leaving again, but the floor-to-ceiling windows and expansive layout she’d picked up on their way out the door already suggested a very comfortable few days ahead.

It is, in fact, only as Jake drops a quick kiss to her lips, suggesting they move things into the bedroom, that Amy stands and actually takes stock of her surroundings (a combination of four drinks and an irresistible partner can clearly only lead to a distracted mind).

Tugging onto her boyfriend’s hand as he continues leading her towards the hallway, Amy lets out a quiet wait a minute - and it’s just enough to pique Jake’s interest, turning to see what it is that’s caught Amy’s attention.

“Ames?”

Raising her finger in a curious point, Amy surveys the room. “Cameras.” At Jake’s silence, she points them out as she slowly circumnavigates the room. “One, two .. I count four altogether. Four cameras, three of them video. Trained to face the furniture, and not the beach.”

Hands on hips, Jake moves further into the centre of the room, frowning. “Yeah, that is a little weird.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she walks towards the bookshelf next to the tv unit, inspecting a container that managed to catch her eye. “Jake, there are like five different handcuffs in here. All of them furry.” Turning her head, she begins to read a few of the labels attached on a row of VHS tapes. Genna and Nicolai … Matt and Lennon … “Cockpit Larry and the Mile High Stewardi?” Swivelling quickly, Amy turns to gasp at Jake. “Babe … what sort of place has your father organised for us?”

Running his hand along the back of his neck, Jake shakes his head quickly. “Let’s not panic just yet, Ames. This could all just be a series of coincidences that when put together seem really weird, but actually aren’t. It .. looks like a normal house - except for all the cameras that seem to be directed towards the couch we were definitely just making out on, maybe a few sex tapes and what, in hindsight, might definitely be release papers waiting for us on the kitchen bench.”

“There’s what, where?”

“In fact, I bet if I lift the lid off of this bowl thing, we’ll find some delicious candy or potpourri or something … and it’s lube. Many, many bottles of lube. Hey, we’ve got the same flavour!”

Amy’s eyes widen, her face paling significantly as she feels her stomach drop to her feet. “Oh god, this is a sex dungeon isn’t it?”

“If not, it’s the background of at least a few porn videos.” Gripping the base of his hair in frustration, Jake lifts his head to curse at the ceiling. “I should’ve known Roger wouldn’t know anybody with a normal house!”

Sensing the panic build up inside of her, Amy scours the room for her purse and heels, both of which had been discarded near the entryway mid-makeout. The arousal that had been coursing through her mere minutes ago has all but disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to take a shower. She was all for porn, just as long as she wasn’t the star of it (one simply doesn’t find NYPD’s youngest female captain on RedTube) - and this house was the kind of place that, under a black light, would resemble a Jackson Pollock. “Jake, we need to leave. We almost had sex in here!”

“Almost being the keyword, Ames. Unless … ”

“Jake!”

“Coming, my love! Title of the sex tape that we definitely didn’t make here!”

(i’m sensing a pattern here …)

Attempt Number 3: The Beach House

“Jake! Jake’s girlfriend! I just pulled Charles’s ear away from your bedroom door, thought you might wanna know!”

Startled, Jake lifts his head up so quickly it hurts his neck a little, both confused and irritated that his earlier activity of planting a series of kisses along Amy’s bare torso has been so rudely interrupted. “Wait, was that …?”

Raising her head off of the pillow, Amy meets his startled gaze with her own. “Did she just - ”

Their suspicions (and, in all honesty - their worst fears) were confirmed a mere second later as another voice booms through their (thankfully, locked) bedroom door.

“I’ve had a very stressful week, Gina! What better way to lull myself into a restful sleep than by listening to the sweet lovemaking of America’s Dream Couple?”

“Oh my god, BOYLE!”

Jake’s knees slide against the sheets as he sits up, lending a hand to Amy as she follows suit. He lets out a defeated sigh as she pushes the hem of her shirt downwards again, leaning forward to grip his arm as he calls through the door - “Boundaries, Charles! … Thank you, Gina!”

“It’s a virtual feast for the ears, you guys! Very soothing, to bear audio witness to the actualisation of love beyond a doorway. It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

“It’s weird and creepy and not okay, Boyle!” Squeezing his eyes shut, Jake cringes at the sheer notion of it. Using his best nope voice, he continues. “Good night!”

From their position on the bed, Jake and Amy hear the faint sound of Gina muttering come on, you weirdo; and they wait in careful silence, sharing flustered looks.

The entire squad had all met up at Boyle’s ex-wife’s beach house this weekend, eager to continue the yearly tradition now that Holt and Jake had finally returned from Florida a month prior. After a day of fun and frivolity (the two of them perhaps being a little unsubtle as they openly checked each other out in their swimwear); the happily reunited couple had snuck away as the evening’s drinks began to die down for a little … alone time.

It had been Jake’s version of paradise, with Amy’s skin still feeling warm and sun kissed as his hands roamed her gorgeous body, and with a schedule of Absolutely Nothing planned for the following day, he intended to keep things going well into the early hours.

That is, of course, until Charles (and Gina, but … mainly Charles) had put a total stop to it.

Amy’s hand squeezes Jake’s bicep, casting a wary glance towards the door before softly speaking. “Wow, that was close.”

“Yeah. I never thought I would say this in relation to sex, but … thank god for Gina.”

“I don’t even want to imagine the alternative.”

Shaking his head, Jake swears under his breath. “You know what this is, right?”

“Charles forgetting basic social normalities, and grossly overstepping the line?”

“No. I mean, yes - that, too. But I think the main culprit here is the curse.”

“The curse?”

“The No Nookie Curse. Tell me you’ve noticed it Ames, it can’t just be me.”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy tests out the term. “The No Nookie Curse?”

Scooting closer to his girlfriend, Jake rests his palms against Amy’s thighs with the practiced comfort of someone who knows her body better than his own. “Every single time we tried to initiate sexy times when we’re on holiday, something happens to interrupt us. I’m telling you, we’re cursed.” He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Which is probably because I didn’t forward that email on to seven of my closest friends back in 2013, but I was busy that day and - ”

“Jake. There’s no way we’re cursed. We had sex on our last holiday … didn’t we?”

“Do you mean that weekend at Dave’s cool beachfront mansion, that was also definitely used for porn films?”

“Oh right, the sex den. Okay, but that’s a one-off. We’ve been on plenty of holidays prior to that.”

“Like the lake house, where we were both so paranoid that Mama Santiago would find out what we were doing that we barely moved each evening?”

“Yeah, when you add it up like that it really doesn’t sound great.”

“I mean … there was lots of sex on the cruise once Doug Judy disappeared. Good sex, too - not that we ever have bad sex. But that was really good, life-affirming, post-declarations-of-love sex, that I’m completely certain we were able to have because we were in international waters, and therefore outside the curses’s jurisdiction.”

Covering Jake’s hands with her own, Amy squeezes gently at the mention of their cruise holiday and leans in for a chaste kiss. “I’m pretty sure curse’s don’t have jurisdictions, babe.”

“How can you be so sure, Ames? All I know is, whenever we’re on holiday and we try to get the good kind of naked, something always comes along and stops us. And it really is a travesty, because you always get this crazy sexy vacation glow about you that just makes me want to cover your body in kisses, and yet somehow it just never seems to happen.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought a lot about this, huh?”

“Lets just say it’s been eating away at me for a while now.”

A lewd joke dies on Amy’s lips as she looks over at her boyfriend, taking in the obvious frustration in his face and realising how seriously he was taking the issue. “Babe, I promise. There is no such thing as a curse.” Planting her hand on the other side of the bed, she lifts herself up, straddling his lap as he moves quickly to tent his legs behind her. “And I am going to prove it to you - right here, right now.”

His hands land on Amy’s waist, holding her steady as she scrapes the edge of her teeth against his curve of his neck, carding her fingers through his shorter hair while her body slowly gyrates on his lap. “God I love you, Ames.”

“Mmm.” Amy takes in a deep breath, relishing the scent of the man she’d missed for so long, sighing when his hands reach down to squeeze her butt. “I love you too, Jake.”

The curse, the previous interruption … pretty much any kind of detail other than his name was disappearing from Jake’s mind with every press of Amy's warm lips against his skin, and he lets out a soft moan, gripping her body tighter as his hands begin to wander to her front.

THUD.

“OW! Rosa!”

“What the hell, Boyle! I know Gina just pulled you away from here!”

Their kissing coming to an abrupt stop, Amy groans, tucking her head into the juncture of Jake’s neck and shoulder. “Oh my god, again?!”

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Jake falls back onto the mattress, taking Amy with him and curling both arms around her protectively. They listen as Charles and Rosa squabble in the hallway outside, choosing not to acknowledge the horror of it all this time around. With a defeated grumble, Amy reaches for the comforter, covering them both up before returning to her safe place (i.e., Jake’s shoulder).

“What was that you were saying, about curses not existing?”

(okay, now the universe is just messing with us)

Attempt Number 4: Team Building in Deer River

It’s Jake’s absent-minded humming of his current favourite song that puts a tranquil smile on Amy’s face on their return to the campsite, keeping her grip around his waist tight as the leaves crunch loudly beneath their feet.

Together with the squad, they had spent the day attending a team building event in Deer River - a state forest just far enough from the city that camping overnight had been the safest option.

After a full day of trust falls, puzzle solving and a group scavenger hunt, the couple had strategically erected their tent further away from the rest of their team, hoping to afford a little bit of privacy (and perhaps, a safe enough distance from Charles). Following Jake’s exoneration, and the brand new addition of a shiny ring on Amy’s finger, a night away underneath the stars was exactly what they needed; and once everything was set up the two of them had wandered off into the woods for some time to themselves.

(Aka: totally disappearing into the surrounding trees and starting a makeout session that lasted longer than either had anticipated.)

(So much so, that the sun had almost completely set by the time they pulled away from each other, hastily returning each of their clothing to a suitable state before heading back.)

Intent on proving that the No Nookie Curse was only an amalgamation of Jake’s paranoid thoughts, Amy was determined to get back to the campsite and settle themselves into bed before anyone or anything could interrupt them. Her plan involved waiting out the rest of the squad’s bedtime routines, before demonstrating to the love of her life that vacation sex was not only a) possible, it was also b) definitely happening.

Whistling the last few bars of his song, Jake tightens his arm around Amy’s shoulder as a strong wind runs through the surrounding greenery - the fifth gust since they started walking back, all of them gaining in strength - already regretting not grabbing her scarf from their luggage earlier.

“Just throwing it out there, babe? Still on Team Outdoor Sex. Sex in the woods sounds hella cool. Daytime sex, though. Now that the sun has clocked out, and the wind has clocked in, it’s actually kinda really cold.”

“Daytime outdoor sex does sound cool, if you disregard the bugs that will crawl all over you, the ticks that will suck on your blood and potentially give you Lyme disease … the bears that could come along at any second and attack us …”

“Really ramping up on the sexy talk there, Ames.”

Rolling her eyes, Amy squeezes Jake’s hand, linking their fingers together. “All of these are things that would interrupt us, and while I’m still not saying that curses exist, I do think we should try to avoid any temptation for things to go wrong.”

“You’ve put a binder together about this, haven’t you?”

“Not a binder per se, but I’ve definitely done a decent amount of research.” Stopping just shy of the clearing, Amy turns to face her fiancé, wrapping her arms around his waist. “After all, this is the first time we’ve been able to get away since getting engaged. A night away is just what we need, and I’m not letting a thing stop us from taking full advantage of this opportunity.”

Pushing herself up onto her tippy-toes, Amy pecks a quick kiss onto Jake’s lips, satisfyingly noticing their still swollen state from earlier activities. “Besides, if the wind stays like this, I’m going to need something to help keep me warm, Peralta.”

“I’m sure I could think of something,” he mumbles in reply, leaning in for another chaste kiss and groaning when Amy pulls away, grabbing his hand and leading him back towards the camping ground.

Quickly reverting back to their previous positioning - hand over shoulder, arm wrapped around waist - Amy is giggling at something that Jake has just whispered in her ear when Holt comes into sight, raising her free hand in a silent wave as they near him.

“Peralta. Santiago. I’m thankful to have ended up on the same path as the two of you, as it was exactly your presence that I was seeking.”

Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eye line, Amy nods. “Jake and I went for a walk and must have lost track of the time, sir.” From beside her, Jake subtly nudges his hip into her own, and she resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “What did you need us for? Do you need a hand with your tent?”

Wincing, Holt shakes his head slowly. “Ahh, no. Unfortunately, it would appear that your tent was not as securely fastened to the camping ground as previously suggested.”

Amy feels Jake’s hand slide down her back as it falls away - much like their hopes for the rest of the evening would soon do - and she looks over at her superior, confused. “Captain?”

Turning, Holt points through the clearing towards the river, where in the fading light Amy and Jake can faintly make out the tip of their tent as it floats further away from solid ground.

Oh.

“The trouble with openings such as this, is that the prevailing weather meets very little resistance - and so as the wind has grown stronger we have all had to readjust our footings in regards to our own domiciles. Regrettably, such distractions meant that the rapidly loosening fixtures on your tent went unnoticed by the squad. Your lodging managed to catch the wind and set itself adrift on the water before anybody had a chance to attempt recovery.”

Running a hand down his face, Jake lets out a frustrated groan. “Looks like we’re roughing it in the dirt tonight, babe.”

“Weren’t our sleeping bags in the tent as well?” Amy responds, her face falling as Jake nods slowly.

Holt raises his hand, clearly intending to stop the couple from spiralling into total hopelessness. “Fortunately, Kevin and I recently purchased a two room tent that has the ability to sleep ten people, which provides plenty of room for the two of us and Cheddar. Provided you have an adequate amount of your allergy medication with you, Santiago, we can relocate him to our side of the canvas and offer you shelter for the evening. Perhaps in the morning, we will be able to organise a retrieval of your now absent tent.”

Resting his hand on the small of Amy’s back, Jake nods once again. “There’s a spare packet in our bags, which thankfully are still in the common area.”

“Very well. Follow me, then. Kevin has already begun making provisions for your stay, and I’m sure your earlier activities have left you eager for rest.”

Thankful, but also more than a little bit crushed that their plans had fallen apart so swiftly, Jake and Amy follow their captain through the campsite with fallen shoulders.

Jake waits until Holt has passed through the mesh lining into their other ‘room’ before muttering low enough for only Amy’s ears to pick up - “The No Nookie Curse strikes again.”

And truthfully, Amy cannot come up with a single rebuttal - choosing instead to cup her fiancé’s face, and offer a soft kiss in commiseration. Perhaps curses were real, after all.

(seriously, how do those guys do it?)

Attempt Number 5: Romance on the beach

“I’m telling you, Ames. There has to be a secret propellor or something under there. There just has to be. I literally cannot think of any other way.”

Her shoulders shaking from all the laughter, Amy reaches out to rest her arms on either side of her husband’s neck and breaks her chuckle for a kiss. “I know, babe. You’re totally right.”

“I just … how else do they do it?”

Shaking her head, Amy breaks out into another round of laughter, keeping her grip tight so that Jake knows it isn’t directed at him (but rather, the situation at hand).

The Hamptons was their address for the next three days, the location of choice for Tony and his partner Luella’s upcoming wedding. In true Peraltiago Vacation style, emergency renovations to the widespread home that all Santiago siblings were staying in had meant that they were short one room, and Jake and Amy had been the lucky couple to be allocated the sofa bed in the living room as their place of rest.

(A fact that, once broken to them, had led to Jake coughing the word Cursed! under his breath, and in all honesty - this time Amy knew he was absolutely right.)

Fresh from their honeymoon (which, once their captain had left them in peace, had involved a lot of sex … amazingly mind-blowing, sometimes costumed sex - which only served to prove that the international waters clause of the curse still held strong), both of them had entered holiday mode with a renewed vigour to finally set things straight.

Having a sunken living room, with a wraparound balcony looking down at them from above for a bedroom, led to Jake thinking creatively - pulling Amy towards the beach on the first evening, lifting her into his arms and running both of them straight into the ocean.

It was the stuff of fantasies: floating in the water with the one you heart adored, holding onto each other tightly as you make love, the waves lapping around you and the world disappearing for just a little while. The kind of scene that every person has seen in a movie, or read in a book, and one that the newlyweds had actually intended to try on their honeymoon before realising that the beaches surrounding their hotel were rarely secluded enough for such activities.

The reality, however, was vastly different - with the two quickly realising that the art of treading water, while clinging to each other and trying desperately not to drown, did not a sexy tryst make.

It was mid-kiss that Jake finally broke away, sputtering out “Are the guys in all the movies secretly dolphins or something?”, all the while pushing frantic strokes through the water in an effort to stay afloat; causing Amy to burst into laughter - tears streaking down your face, ribs sore from all the shaking kind of laughter - clinging to her husband like a koala as he slowly walked them back towards the shore.

Joining Amy in her mirth, Jake leads her over to the towels that he’d dumped on the sand earlier, spreading them out haphazardly and pulling his wife down to meet him. “Okay, so now we know. Sex in the water = not as easy as it looks.”

Thankful to have chosen a dress for their intended walk on the beach, Amy lifts the wet fabric from her thigh, squeezing out a small fountain of water as she gives Jake a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babe. It was definitely worth a shot - and bonus points for spontaneity. Very hot.”

Jake’s hand comes to rest on her bared thigh, stroking her skin gently before leaning in for a kiss. “It’s easy to find reasons for spontaneous sex, when you have a wife as hot as I do.”

“Mmm,” Amy moans into his mouth, abandoning the skirt and letting it fall back down with a splat. The sand beneath the towel shifts as she digs her knees in; scrambling closer to Jake to deepen the kiss, knowing all too well that her horniness level was still sitting low on simmer.

She breaks the kiss to nibble on Jake’s earlobe as his hand slides further up the dress, fingertips sliding over her butt, and Amy climbs onto his lap, lifting her hips slightly in silent invitation. Her underwear slides down a moment later, lifting her knees and then her ankles until they’re being tucked into Jake’s pocket, and she takes advantage of the freedom by grinding down on his growing erection.

Despite the cool sea water still dripping down her skin, Jake’s hands feel warm as he moves to caress her once more, palm digging into her derriere as he pulls her in for a heavy kiss, and suddenly Amy thinks she’s beginning to understand all the reasons why ‘sex on the beach’ is such a popular term.

Jake’s fingers caress her folds shortly after, dipping one finger in before following with another, and it's everything Amy has been craving for, her husband’s lips leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline while she writhes on his lap.

It’s only as his hand pulls away, and her hips continue to sway closer to Jake’s body, that a whole other sensation begins to form. Yanking her mouth away from the hickey she’d been creating on Jake’s neck, Amy presses a hand to his chest and whispers - “Jake! The sand.”

“Mmm, yeah. All soft and warm, it’s kinda hot.”

Shaking her head, Amy rears back further, only to let out a sharp cry. “No, Jake! I think the sand has gotten into … places.”

He blinks, shaking himself out of his makeout stupor. “Wait. Ames, are you okay?”

“My vagina is on fire, babe.”

Scrambling upwards, Jake reaches out to help Amy stand, wincing at her obvious discomfort. “Do you want to go back into the water?”

Amy shakes her head quickly. “I need a shower, pronto. Oh god, I can feel all the little grains scraping.”

“Oh no, it would have been on my hands, and then I … I’m so sorry, Ames.” Turning, Jake presents his back to her, bending lower. “Here, jump up and I’ll carry you back to the house and straight into the shower. I’m so sorry, babe."

His hands dig into her lower thigh as Amy rests her upper body against her husband’s back, pressing her forehead into his shoulder blade and letting out a groan. “Okay universe, we get it! The No Nookie curse is real!”

“It’s real and it sucks!” Jake’s voice comes out in a huff as he rushes through the sand, grateful that they hadn’t strayed too far from the house.

“Ugh, why have people named a drink after this?!”

Part 2:

(and the 1 time they’re successful)

(I'm definitely seeing stars)

Jake’s grip on his wife’s hand holds strong as he leads her up to the highest point of the house, pausing at the base of the final set of stairs and gesturing for her to take the lead. Amy gives him a curious look as she passes him, clearly intrigued, and he whispers a compliment directed at her butt (always a favourite) as they both begin their ascent.

Holt and Kevin’s vow renewal ceremony was (finally!) taking place this coming weekend, and the squad - plus partners and children alike - had all convened earlier today at their allocated accommodation in the Berkshires.

The house - like many in the surrounding neighbourhood - was larger than the precinct and all of their homes combined; stretching out into various wings and drawing the eye upward with it’s high ceilings and exposed stonework. This time, Jake and Amy had gone to great lengths to ensure they were allocated their own room towards the opposite end of the home, large enough to accommodate a now eight months old Mac while also ensuring a modicum of privacy - a concept dearly treasured, after so many disastrous attempts.

Exhausted after a full day of sticking to a rigid schedule of rehearsals and preparations alike, Jake had waited until they’d been able to lull their son to sleep in his travel cot before luring Amy into the hallway with the promise of a surprise; and he’s not entirely sure if it his proposal to her several years ago that finally got Amy on board with his surprises, or if it was just indicative of the trust he’d been able to earn - but either way, she follows eagerly with an excited grin.

He hears the excited gasp that escapes her mouth as the door at the top swings open, the full extent of his plan coming to fruition as Amy moves further into the landing and turns to him with eyes that sparkled. “Jake … this is amazing!”

Tucking both hands into his pockets, Jake puts on his best humble brag face as he joins his wife in the centre of the alcove. “So I did a little research on this place before we got here, and as it turns out the owner/builder was a massive fan of stargazing.” Nodding towards the low set walls that wrapped around the base, he turns to Amy with a proud grin. “They’d built this landing solely for that purpose. And tonight, it is our little hideaway.”

Amy’s eyes soften as she takes in the surrounding tea light candles, the blow-up mattress covered in blankets and pillows in the middle of it all, and the bottle of wine still chilling in a bucket of ice to the side. “Wow, babe. You really pulled out all the stops on this one.”

“One could say .. a whole binders worth of preparation.”

Her head swivels towards him, and he grins triumphantly. “You made a binder for this?”

“You haven’t even heard the best part. The door we just went through is the only way in or out, and I have the key right here in my pocket. Rosa has stepped in to keep an eye on Mac, and has promised that she will only call if it’s an emergency. She also seems to have figured out what we are doing up here, and appears to be equal parts impressed and disgusted.”

Amy nods, moving closer and resting her hands on either side of Jake’s neck.

“Holt and Kevin are off with Laverne, Charles and Genevieve have taken Nikolaj camping half an hour away, and Terry and Sharon are exhausted from chasing after their kids all day. Hitchcock and Scully had both an apple pie and a cake after dinner, so I can only assume that they’ve slipped into some sort of post-sugar high coma.” Leaning in to press a soft kiss at the edge of Amy’s lips, Jake pulls away with a grin. “What I’m saying, my darling, is that there is almost no chance of us getting interrupted.”

Moving closer still, Amy wraps both arms around Jake’s neck, carding her fingers through his slightly overgrown curls as she draws him in for a heart-pounding kiss. “Looks like we’re kicking a certain curse’s butt tonight.”

Nodding, Jake initiates another kiss, waiting until he feels Amy melt completely in his arms before grazing his lips along the edge of her cheek, peppering tiny kisses in their wake. “While I am definitely looking forward to breaking the curse, this is mainly just me wanting you to feel good, babe.”

“Mmm. I’d say you’re on the right track.”

His teeth scrape lightly against her earlobe as he lets out a soft laugh, pulling their bodies closer together. “You work so hard, Ames .. and you do so much for Mac and I. You deserve to have a holiday, and really relax.” Continuing the path paved earlier, Jake reaches the juncture of her neck and swipes his tongue against her warm skin. “Let me make you feel good, babe.”

Amy lets out a moan, Jake’s hands wandering down the front of her jeans, cupping her centre through the fabric and rubbing with a slow rhythm; and he pulls away with a sly grin.

“There is one tiny detail that we need to take into consideration, actually.” Raising one hand, Jake gestures towards the open design of the landing. “Out here it’s just you, me and the stars … and sound travels like crazy.” He drops a tender kiss to her lips, leaving the intimation of both his and hers tendency to get a little loud during sex unspoken. “In fact, you could even say it’s - ” leaning in, he flips into his Best Sexy Tone - “omnidirectional.”

“Oh, mama …”

“We’re going to have to try really hard to stay quiet, babe.” Tightening his grip around her waist, Jake lowers his body slightly and Amy picks up on the queue, wrapping her legs around her husband as he moves them towards the blankets. He lowers her carefully, shaking his head in wonder as she gazes back up at him: looking like some kind of heavenly creation amongst the mixture of candlelight and stars. “I’m so in love with you, Amy Santiago.”

A soft blush creeps onto her cheeks, and Amy crooks her finger in a silent request for her husband’s presence, sinking her teeth into her lower lip as he covers her body with his own. “I love you too, Jake.”

Her hips tilt marginally upwards, rubbing her body against the fabric of Jake’s own jeans as she reaches for his fly, making quick work of the barriers as her hand slides inside to grip his rapidly growing erection. Quick to follow suit, Jake pulls away from their embrace only to tug both his and Amy’s jeans off completely, casting both of their tops and underwear aside haphazardly and mentally congratulating his earlier decision to use battery-powered candles over real ones. Setting fire to the highest point of a house is a great way to kill a mood - and ruin a wedding - and there wasn’t a single way that he was going to let the two of them be interrupted tonight.

His erection rubs against Amy’s naked thigh as he covers her body once again, sweeping his hand over her curves as his hand heads directly to her centre. He covers her mouth with his own while his fingers begin to explore, taking in the moisture they find and gently massaging just the way Amy loves. Her hips sway beneath Jake’s torso, working with his deft touch as her hand moves to circle his cock, squeezing and pumping slowly … a familiar move that only made Jake last a full two minutes the last time she tried it.

The two of them are straight-up moaning by now, rotating between messy kisses and heated breaths against shoulders and necks as they both work each other up with expert precision. Contorting his back, Jake moves to sink his teeth into the edge of Amy’s right breast, desperate for a taste of her arousal but knowing all too well that if he moves too far away from her mouth, his wife will begin to really cry out, and the risk of exposure was just too great.

Instead, he slides back up to press his lips against hers, the desire obvious as his bare crotch ruts against her own. Amy’s responding moan is stuttered, her attempts to keep everything quiet obvious, and he grins.

“You’re doing so well at staying quiet, Ames … god you’re so sexy.” Tongue sweeping against hers, absorbing the moans that were gaining in intensity, Jake’s thumb rubs persistently at her clit, matching the tempo of her rotating wrist as they push each other closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh god Jake … fuck me. Fuck me now, fuck me hard.”

Looping his elbow under one of her knees, Jake moves into position and enters Amy in a single thrust, feeling momentarily breathless as the warmth of her surrounds him completely. Her other leg swings around to rest on his butt, holding him close as he pulls out and slams back in again, and truly, this has to be the closest thing to heaven.

Pressing one hand into the base of the landing, Jake pushes down for leverage as he returns his right hand to Amy’s clit - resuming the circled patterns he’d initiated earlier - and Amy sinks her teeth into Jake’s shoulder as she comes with a muffled shout. The feeling of her walls pulsing around his cock makes him descend into a state of almost madness, increasing the intensity of his thrusts until it’s all just pure instinct, chasing the euphoric high but nowhere near ready for any of this to end.

Slipping her other leg from his grip, Amy digs her fingers into Jake’s shoulders as she rolls him onto his back, keeping their hips joined as much as possible to avoid any chance of disruption. Her body is slick with sweat as she rises above him, planting her hands on his chest and looking down at her husband with a flushed and satisfied grin, rising and falling as she takes over Jake’s steady pace.

“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” she whispers, leaning down to circle her tongue over his nipples, sucking a love bite into his pec as she goes. “Fuck, this feels so good.” Rising again, Amy leans back until her hair is trailing down her spine, and the sight in front of him nearly pushes Jake over the edge completely.

She looked so incredible like this, bare and open and clearly just letting her body take over as she swivels her hips into his thrusts, his cock glistening with her arousal as she slides up and down. Jake has known, for a long time now, that there is nobody in the world that could ever be as beautiful as Amy Santiago, and tonight only serves to solidify his belief.

There’s a bit more of a curve to her skin now, a soft swell to her belly that stands as proof of the their amazing son; and he knows that at times she feels self-conscious of the changes she cannot control, but he fell in love with Amy for a million reasons, and her body was only one of them. His body has changed as well, after all; and probably will again over the course of the next fifty years, and there is nothing that will ever change the way they feel about each other.

He tents his legs to a low degree behind her, offering support as his hands begin to cover every expanse of her body, thumbing the inverted arch of her breasts with reverence as they bounce against their joint movements. Jake's not sure if he’ll ever win the lottery, but it’s clear that he’s already reached the jackpot right here in this moment, watching Amy hurtle ever closer to another orgasm.

It’s the faltered breaths and the occasional stilling of her hips that tells Jake that his wife is nearly there, and with gentle coaxing she falls forward again, mashing her lips against his as their chests press together. Knowing that this is an angle that both of them enjoy, Jake digs his fingers into Amy’s butt as he lifts his hips off the ground, hammering into Amy as the steady motion presses her clit against his pelvis, whispering her name over and over as her fingers grip his hair by the roots. Her body begins to shake, followed by a whisper of babe I’m close, and Jake pushes his body a degree or two higher.

There’s a sharp sting against his skin as Amy comes, her mouth clamped over the edge of his shoulder as the need to scream is just too powerful, the vibrations of her moans reverberating into his intoxicated mind. The sheer mixture of pleasure and pain is all Jake needs to let go completely, pouring himself inside his wife as calls out her name without suppression, and Amy’s hand clamps quickly over his mouth before the sound of his climax can travel too far.

It takes a long while for either Jake or Amy to be able to speak, their bodies a jumble mess as they struggle to catch their breath, the silence only broken as Amy cranes her neck back towards the sky and gasps - “Wow, you really can see so many stars from here!”

From beside her Jake nods, still partially in a state of seeing stars of his own as his heart begins to return to a normal pace. He lets out a gradual sigh as Amy shifts closer to him, curling her arm around his waist and tucking her head into his shoulder.

Wrapping his left arm around her naked body (he’s not sure there’ll ever be a time when he will ever have enough of it), Jake raises his right hand for a high five. “We did it, Ames. We broke the curse.”

Amy’s responding laugh is loud, and probably carried over the grounds, but Jake doesn’t care at all anymore, and she meets his hand with a triumphant slap. “Yeah we did! Suck it, universe!”

His grip grows tighter, seizing the blanket with the tips of his fingers and sliding it over their skin before his wife has a chance to feel the coolness of the night’s sky. He knows that they should probably head downstairs soon, sneak back into their bedroom and relieve Aunty Roro of her babysitting duties, but the afterglow of this moment feels too sweet to give away - Mac has been sleeping through the night for a solid two months now, and he knows that if anything had gone wrong they’d have known well before now.

Amy’s lips ghost against his bicep as she lets her eyelids flutter close for a moment (a post-sex power nap often needed, rarely lasting longer than thirty minutes), and Jake smiles at the sight, letting her nestle in to his embrace as he gazes through the glass ceiling above them to watch the stars.

He already knows that he won’t be able to find anything brighter than their future up there in the darkness, but for now, he’s content to watch the world pass them by for just a little bit longer.

#I hope you like this!#best of both worlds with the smut and fluff again #b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #my writing #Peraltiago smut #Peraltiago fluff #b99fic #b99 fic

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drkcnry67 · 4 years

Text

you are

A/N: going into the DC side of things. except another leap for my writing as well as my brain. this came to be in the middle of the night bout 2am so i briefly jotted a few ideas on a piece of paper in the dark and now im doing this… i hope this brings joy in these dark times!

Pairing: Kate Kane x reader

sentance inspirations : “what's stopping you now?" “can you help me with my tie?” / “can you zip up my dress?”

tags: WARNING THIS IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES! THIS STORY FEATURES LESBIAN (GIRL ON GIRL) SEX, I REPEAT DO NOT READ IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18. I MEAN IT! DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOUR UNDERAGE! YOU WILL BE VIOLATING SOME LAWS IF YOU DO! NOW DONT DO IT!

summery: not freaking telling

Masterlist

several years ago, billionaire Bruce Wayne disappeared from Gotham City, the company struggled but when Lucius Fox got murdered his nephew Luke struggled to keep Wayne techs inner lights on.

one evening Kate Kane walked into the office of CEO Bruce Wayne her cousin. she was determined to continue the legacy he had left behind in one shape or form.

she stumbled upon her cousins biggest secret, the biggest legacy he had left behind. she found the Batcave. she discovered her cousin was Batman. now she continues the shadow of the Bat. she continues to strike fear into the criminal element of Gotham City.

you had gone off the grid shortly after Bruce did, you werent sure when or if you should return but 6 years later you did, just cause you figured things would have changed and you had heard about another bat being in gotham.

you wanted to know if Bruce had returned. of course you knew your boss’ deepest darkest secret, you were his co ceo and his secretary. you had to know these things.

the penthouse you had been living in before leaving gotham hadnt changed at all. after putting your stuff down and getting somewhat settled, you decided to go and see if your workplace had changed at all, you decided to go see if anything had changed with Wayne tech.

the exterior of wayne tech hadnt changed though there were fewer lights on inside, but you swiped your key card thinking that no one else would be here that you would be able to go upstairs without anyone realizing that you were here.

kate: “someone just used a key card and entered the building.” Luke: “what do we do?” Kate: “we need to find out who they are and how they have a key card. It looks like they are coming up here. So perfect we will be questioning them in no time.”

Luke: “why would we question someone who used a key card? wait what was the key card access number?”

Kate looked at the computer again…

Kate: “4789932. why do you ask?”

Luke: “dont interrogate the person coming out of the elevator was the last person to see Bruce before he disappeared. his secretary, YN.”

you exit the elevator at that moment to see Luke and Kate in the room. Kate’s eyes lock onto yours, her gaze piercing your soul, you had forgotten that you were standing in the office of your former boss.

Luke: “you YN right?”

YN: “who are you? and how did you get in here? this is sacred space.”

Kate steps in front of luke and comes close to you.

Kate: “no need to be hostile, im Kate Kane im Bruce’s cousin. the one he didnt really mention, when he disappeared i figured i would use this place as my home away from home. plus my buddy Luke here is the son of Lucius who i believe worked closely with you and Bruce before Bruce disappeared and before Lucius passed a year ago. when my cousin disappeared did you happen to…”

you interrupted Kate, you felt bad for doing so but you knew what she was gonna ask.

YN: “no he didnt mention anything to me about where he was going, he was just being Bruce. he told me he had to leave Gotham and wasnt sure if or when he would return. i left that same day when he and i had last talked. we had our final conversation and i got on the next flight out of gotham and spent the last few years trying to cope with having lost my job, the loss of my best friend, and the loss of my life.”

Kate: “how long have you been back in Gotham?”

You had to set yourself down in a chair cause now you were feeling the vibes and memories from being back in the office.

YN: “i got back only 4 hours ago. i live in the penthouse in the gotham plaza hotel a couple blocks away. but there are a ton of cars and everything everywhere whats going on?”

Kate looked at you and then remmbered that you hadnt been back in gotham very long.

Kate: “tonight is some sort of fancy ball type thing that the rich folk are throwing in honor of the crows security team that helps the gcpd protect gotham well only those who can afford it anyway. anyway my dad wants me to make an appearance and be there and such so i was wondering if your not busy would you consider coming with me…”

you were shocked this woman this woman who you had barely known for a total of half an hour was asking you on a date… and you of course had nothing to wear.

YN: “i would love to but i have nothing to wear.”

Kate: “we can solve that… Luke im taking the night off… and whatever you do dont contact me at all. im gonna show YN just how much has changed in this city and with its people. and rememebr to pick us up at the apartment at 6:30pm.”

Kate takes you to the elevator and down to the garage. you of course realized that she had a motor bike and that was a total turn on for you.

YN: “where are we gonna find me an outfit on such short notice.”

Kate: “there is a boutique near my place we will stop there on the way to getting me ready.”

you take the helmet that she hands you, you put it on and strap your small bag cross your body, and get on behind Kate. you hold on tight as she takes off out of the garage.

the feeling coursing through your veins right then was something you hadnt felt in a long time. in about 15 minutes you both arrived at a small boutique. it was super fancy, you remmber hitting alot of those types of store when you were bruce’s secretary.

Kate: “lets find you a dress…”

you and Kate walk into the boutique and smile as you both walk in not knowing what you wanted like detail wise for a dress. but Kate spoke up fairly calm.

Kate: “can i get some help to find this lovely woman a dress for the ball tonight?”

Helen comes around the corner and stands immediately in front of you and Kate.

Helen: “such a fluent canvas, let me guess you wear mostly bright colors, but look good in almost anything, dont really care for heals but will deal with wedges, spaghetti strap, built in bra, and has to have a slit in the front for easy walking but can deal if it doesnt. how did i do?”

YN: “you got it. how did you know?”

Helen: “darlin’ ive been at this a long time plus you are very easy to read… wait a moment you remind me of.. YN?”

you had to think now… you couldnt think straight in the first place cause of Kate but now you were faced with this lady who suddenly knew your name.

YN: “im sorry you seem to have me at a disadvantage. do i know you?”

Helen: “its me Helen, i was your tailor when Mr Wayne was still here. God rest his soul.”

you now knew who she was and she hugged you welcoming you back to Gotham as she took you to the rack where she happened to have a mermaid spaghetti strap in lilac and in your size.

she pulled it off the shelf and handed it to you. you held it up to your figure and she gave it the thumbs up as she went to grab you a shawl and a handbag as well as a pair of wedges which she took a guess on the size.

kate and you went back to her apartment and she helped you get comfortable before she went to go get ready for the ball. you started to take off what you currently were wearing, and then you slid into the dress. the satin lace combo gliding across your skin.

you didnt hear Kate who wanted your help with her tie come back as you finished pulling the up but couldnt reach the zipper.

Kate: “knock knock…”

YN: “i cant reach the zipper. Can you zip up my dress?”

Kate: “only if you help me. Can you help me with my tie?”

you nod.

YN: “deal. but who goes first?”

Kate: “come closer to me and turn around so i can do up the zipper.”

you turn around and move your hair out of habit. Kate’s hands move slowly along your back to the zipper but they trace every inch of your back before grasping the zipper.

YN: “can I ask you something?”

Kate: “of course.”

Yn: “did you have any contact with Bruce before he left that would indicate where he was going or why?”

Kate: “no but my cousin was strong willed, if he wanted to do something he most certainly did everything in his power to achieve whatever he was trying to do. Ugh the zipper is stuck, do not worry I have someone who is very eager to help in any way possible but while I Call her can you do my tie?”

Just as you turn around you hear the door open, Kate turns to defensive in front of you. Mary walks through the door.

Mary: “chill out sis it’s me!”

Kate: “thank God it’s you I hope you can help. Mary this is YN, YN this is My sister Mary. Mary can you fix YN’s zipper on her dress it is stuck even I couldn’t get it.”

Mary places her purse and her coat down and comes behind you. While you trace Kate’s form grasping hold of her tie. Mary goes to take a look at your zipper, she spends longer on the zipper then you do on kates tie.

You had this weird feeling, like she had a secret, like she was trying to tell you something and you werent quite picking up the signal.

Kate had one of her hands on your waist, she had every confidence that she had found her one in you. Course she had heard her cousin mention his fantastic secretary but she didnt think you would be this gorgeous. Mary after a while exclaims.

Mary: “i have an idea… stay right there dont move…”

mary left the room for a moment this left you and kate to further ponder your thougts. kate still had her hand on your waist, this sparked something within you that you had not felt in years.

Kate: “do you have anyone special in your life?”

YN: “ive been single every day for my entire life. cause before i left bruce and i shared secrets with eachother that we soon knew would go with us to our graves. kate, im a lesbian…”

Kate smiles and is about to speak when mary comes back into the room, she goes to the back of your dress and fiddles round for a few moments before standing straight and comes back to her bag and coat.

Mary: “all done i replaced the zipper pull, you will be fine ill fully replace the zipper before that dress is needed again. now both of you should go Luke will be here any moment. and im hitching a ride so hurry up both of you and finish getting reAdy.”

Kate and you finished getting ready, the sound of a car horn sounded. this pulled you and kate out of your own admirations and into a state of lets go present to the public.

you held kates hand this sent several shivers down your spine but in a good way. kate however knew what you felt but she knew she would have to tell you her secret after tonight if everything went her way.

kate: "so i hope that this isnt too forward but how do you think people at this party will react to seeing you at the party let alone back in gotham?"

yN: "dont worry bout it ill just exclaim that im back to stop running from the past. Exclaim that I can't and I shouldn't run forever! Even if I'm still scared."

kate: "what do you have to be scared of?"

yn: "my future, the company I worked for for so long went awol after lucius God rest his soul and now I return to meet the cousin of my former boss and the son of his best friend. Geez I'm overwhelmed!"

Kates hand on your own had you finding the strength to make it through the evening! Your only thoughts were of how how you and Kate looked.

Luke got out of the car and came round to open your door so kate and you as well as mary could exit the car. The press got one look at you beside kate and had a field day.

After pushing through the crowd, making it inside the gallary you realized that the security was tighter than usual.

YN: “when did security get beefed up?”

Kate: “since my father became the leader of a security company, they are called the Crows, they became a thing after Batman disappeared. lets avoid any and all contact with him while here, he wont entirely take kindly to me having a date at this gala.”

YN: “does he know that your...”

Kate: “yes he does but he doesnt entirely approve of it. but you know what screww what he thinks. im just happy to not be suffering this event alone.”

You smiled you knew that there was a small chance that kate had feelings for you as well. there was speeches, music, silent auction and dancing. this was what you and Kate spent some of your time doing. was dancing and placing tickets into the silent auctions.

You and Kate were standing by the bar during the next few speeches, doing a few shots and having several laughs.

Kate: "have you ever kissed a girl?"

YN: "not willingly... Poison ivy got me once but batman swooped in and saved me after I sucker punched him while he was trying to save me. But I guess kissed and put under a spell by a bad girl doesn't count."

Kate: "nope but it was a good try..."

before kate had a chance to finish er sentance her name was being called, this made both you and her turn toward the voice, this also made kate immediately chug the rest of her drink.

Jacob: "kate... didnt expect to see you here tonight."

kate: "thats cause i didnt mention that i was gonna be here. as i found out a few new things today but you dont need to know as long as you do what you do we can never be a proper family. trust me being gay is the best thing to ever happen to me. I swear I'm not gonna give up who I am just to make you proud of me. If you can't accept me for who I am then how are we supposed to be a family. "

Jacob: "Kate you made your choice years ago at the Acadamy you don't need to remind me that we are not and can never be a proper family. You and your lady friend enjoy the gala."

Jacob gives you the snake eye before walking away. You turn to Kate both of you now standing alot closer before. Then it was time for someone from Wayne tech to get up and speak.

You and Kate were the only ones who were able and willing to represent the company on the stage.

Kate: "Wayne tech was started by my aunt Martha and my uncle Thomas Wayne many many years ago. Then my cousin Bruce took over when he was old enough. 6 years ago my cousin disappeared, 3 years ago lucius fox was murdered, today I stand up here with YN who worked close along side lucius and Bruce for many years before Bruce disappeared. Under her leadership and the help of lucius fox's nephew Luke we have plans to reopen Wayne tech."

YN: "citizens of Gotham, what Kate says is true we have plans to reopen Wayne tech, we hope to bring good to our city, continuing on in the steps of my former boss and business partner Bruce, may he ever be remembered as we reopen and continue the business that was the foundation to Gothams Legacy for years before and will continue to be...”

before you could finish your speech the lights in the entire building went out. you and Kate stood close.

Kate: “stay close to me, this is not supposed to happen...”

a few moments later a single spotlight on the other side of the room reveals someone standing there...

Hush: “greetings gothamites, right now some of the crows are all standing on pressure plates that will explode the building if they move. so i want the little rat who is associated with Bruce wayne to come forth and face the punishment for trying to shine that light again.”

Kate and you make your way through the shadows and around the harmless civilians to a hidden panel in the wall. stepping inside this felt very familiar feeling of security.

Kate: “we all have our demons, some of our demons hide in the shadows, for this lunatic out there im one of his demons. YN you know Bruce’s secret now im trusting you with mine.”

YN; “ what are you talking about Kate i have to go out there and stand up to that monster and prove my worth.”

Kate: “and you will have your part to play in this but so will i...”

you watch as she emerges from shadws into some low lighting dressed as a bat...”

YN: “so you took after your cousin in that respect. i am so happy that you have trusted me with this secret. thank you for that.”

Kate: “all i want you to do is go out there and keep him talking distract him long enough for luke who can hear us right now to silently and remotely disarm the pressure plates. now go, ill be along shortly. i have to go a different way.”

you leave the hole in the wall, you walk out there and throw your voice from behind the people.

YN: “who are you and what the hell do you want with me?”

Hush: “why dont you come out and face me so i can see who you are!”

You go further and a spotlight shines on you.

Hush: "well well well, let's get this party started.. Starting with a pop quiz: in Wayne tech the last project that was announced to be in development was what?"

YN: "a new secure wing at arkham asylum."

Hush: "what made the plans for this project go off the rails?"

YN: "the disappearance of Bruce Wayne and the murder of lucius fox."

Hush: "and what project are you guys gonna start on with your start up?"

Yn: "why does it matter to you you dick? You are the one that is basically holding us for hostage... Now either release the innocent people and disarm the pressure plates or the gcpd will be crawling over this place in a matter of moments."

Hush: "now now little girl, you were Bruce Wayne's pet weren't you?"

YN: "I was his assistant and best friend."

Hush: "I knew him once, but he was much different then... I for one am glad he is gone, he was an arrogant ass..."

Kate came into view a few times, helping to set up the room so the people are safe, you keep ‘hush’ busy for a few moments. before you knew it all the innocents were in a safe location.

Hush approached you rapidly and began to get all up in your grill.

Hush: “why are you not afraid of me?”

YN: “cause ive seen things in my lifetime that would scare even a man with no heart such as yourself. so do your worse cause im counting on someone saving me very soon...”

Hush comes up and starts using his fingers to trace your body. that is when Kate decided it was time to make her presence known.

Batwoman: “hey ugly, take your hands off the lady...”

Hush turns to see Batwoman who you know is actually Kate standing behind him...

Hush: “why should i you silly little bat?”

Batwman: “cause in a number of moments the pressure plates will be disarmmed, the crows will be free and you will be going to arkham. now pick on someone your own size...”

Hush turned away from you immediately before turning to batwoman he chucked knives at her while you stood there and watched.. Kate caught your eye and winked, just like bruce used to do if he wanted to pull a reverse batarang catch combo.

Kate threw the batarang and it landed in your catch then with all your strength and force your threw that batarang at the back of hush’s head and he fell straight on his face.

batwoman: “alright commander the pressure plates have been disabled, make sure this animal sees justice. ill take the lady out of the building. have a good night commmander.”

kate comes up to you and grapples both of you out of the building. kate’s father called to make sure both of you were okay. you ended up at wayne tower with kate now she still is in costume.

Kate: “what fascination did my cousin have for bookcases...”

YN: “it is just his thing, back at wayne manor he had a bookcase a piano entrance and several other things, he finally choose the bookcase to make things easy for his quick escapes.”

Kate: "do you want to see the cave?"

YN: "I haven't been down there since before Bruce left... I would love to see it back up and running."

Kate's hand on your own leading you down into the cave made you smile as the stairwell seemed to get brighter like something glowing at the end of the tunnel.

Getting to the end of the tunnel there's a path lined with flame less tea lights.

Yn: "it's beautiful... I love these tea lights!"

Kate: "I have to be honest tonight I had a hard time keeping myself from letting my heart lead my actions. In the few short hours that I've known you, I've fallen in love with you. I had Luke and Mary set this up. As well as the bed in the center."

Kate says as she starts de suiting allowing you to roam around but mid way through de suiting her eyes couldn't leave your form.

Kate: "it took everything I had for will power not to make love to you right then and there and when we were dancing it took all my will power not to kiss you while dancing."

You turned to face Kate both of you facing eachother now.

Yn: "what's stopping you now?"

Mid way through de suiting Kate allowed her instincts to take over. she left her suit half off ran to you cupped your cheeks and kissed you. this was the kiss that felt like it had happened before, but of course it hadnt but it sure as hell felt amazing literally breath taking.

after 10 minutes both of you broke the kiss breathing heavily before kate spoke in heavy raspy breaths.

Kate (breathing heavily): “this might be more sexy if you help me finish getting out of my suit.”

YN (breathing heavily): “turn around and i will...”

Kate turns around, you place small seductive kisses trailing her neck, to her shoulder, down her spine earning small soft moans of approval from Kate. your hands moved to her wait and began to slide the suit from her waist down her legs you still leaving kisses ever couple seconds.

once the suit was off Kate threw it across the table in the corner, and took you closer to the bed as she started to use her hands once more to roam over your body, feeling every inch of it.

Kate: “you are still wearing far too much clothing... turn around time for me to help you get out of what you are wearing...”

YN: “i promise you that this is probably way less than you were wearing.”

Kate: “turn around for me..”

you turned around and smiled, kates hands on the back of your dress using the make shift pully for the zipper that mary had put on to undo the dress. but Kate kissed your neck earning soft moans from you.

Kate: “dont forget we are the future of wayne tech, and united we stand..”

YN: “you are so hot, i got all throat dryed and tongue tied when i first met you. i was shell shocked... but im damn well glad you were the one in the building.”

the fabric slid off your body on its own, all kate had to do was make sure you didnt trip over the dress. tossing that with the suit you are in the caressed embrace of Kate.

Kate: “so beautiful...”

you turn around lifting Kate’s tank top off her body. her hands making quick work to slide off her shorts. both of you now scooting onto the bed, Kate was on top of you quicker than you were fully laying down.

Kate: “now this is how love is supposed to be...”

Kate grinded her way onto you, pulling off 69 and just general pleasuring sensual acts. you both were screaming and moaning in pleasure.

Kate: “you know i dont think ive had this much passion in sex in a long time.”

YN: “i know what you mean and i am perfectly content staying right here for like ever...”

kate had been using a double strap on so it pleasured you both. she hadnt puled out or really stopped moving, you both were just laying in a way that you could have a conversation.

YN: “how did i get so lucky to end up with you?”

Kate: “no idea but it was probably the same thing that brought me to you. i love you...”

You cupped her cheeks making sure your noses were touching and that was how your night of perfect bliss continued with the strap on and the vigerous sexual positions and the oral sex you received from Kate.

After several hours of that you both fell asleep cuddled together in perfect harmony. Morning soon fell, the bat computer started its morning routine, the lights were still romantic.

In those moments things seemed simple, both of you had forgotten the horrific but wonderful time at the gala the night before.

Kate and you stirred at the same time, opening your eyes only to start grinding the strap on again, not alot of moving from where you were nor from under the covers.

You were still going at it moments later when Luke and Mary began to decend into the cave. Neither you nor Kate noticed as you were too pre occupied.

The bat computer spoke suddenly.

Computer: "sir Luke and lady Mary, madame Kate and mistress YN are still rolling in the sheets, they also just woke up shall I put up the protective shield?"

Mary: "yes please so we don't have to see anything.. But there is a question I have who installed those shield and why?"

Computer: "master Wayne did for his rendezvous with miss Kyle! Whenever they would happen. "

Luke: "did my father know? About Bruce and Selena?"

Computer: "oh yes everyone eventually knew cause they got engaged in secret. To show Gotham that Selina had truly changed her spots."

Luke and Mary were shocked they didnt think that someone would happen upon anything like that in the cave... though like they were about to see the shield would reveal as though nothing was on the other side of the wall...

Luke: "did bruce leave anything indicating where he was going or why he left?"

computer: "that information is classified except to those whose code names are on the inscription."

Mary: "is it safe to go down now?"

computer: "yes go on..."

meanwhile you and Kate were still engaged in the sensual arts. passion flowing gracefully from you both. neither of you noticing the shield nor hearing the voices from luke and mary, nor realizing that there was work to be done.

about an hour later you and kate were both finally satisfied. you both threw on the robes sitting near by and smiled happily walking out from behind the shield. only to be confronted with glares from Luke and Mary...

Luke: “glad you both could finally join us... oh by the way, great idea for starting wayne tech again that is a brilliant plan...”

Mary: “where are your formal wear so i can repair that zipper and whatever else needs on it...”

YN: “its on the couch over near the shield. just dont look back there it aint pretty.”

Kate smiled cause she could only imagine what kind of horrors they would see if they looked.

Kate: “did you find anything on that Hush character from the gala last night?”

Luke: “sadly no but i can say that whoever he is is extremely hard to place. plus there is no mention of anyone named Hush in Bruce’s files anywhere.”

YN: “so he is someone new thats okay cause i am the one that took down Poison ivy, that was one of the only missions i ever did with bruce i had my own suit and everything. Bruce taught me everything he knew. but in those moments ivy had no idea that i was the same girl she had tried to force to kill Batman. then i turned around and clipped her with a batarang to the back of the head and brought her ass to arkham. it was a glorious day. it was also the same day that Bruce told me he was leaving. or well that he was preparing too. he told me for what was coming neither of us should be in the city. so when he left i grabbed what few belongings i had and i left gotham and had been in Star City till yesterday.”

Kate went to mary who handed Kate something which peaked your curiousity, but you werent gonna pry you knew when the time was right Kate would do what her heart commanded.

~1 and a half years later... success had been accross yours and Kates features as you both were running sucessfully 3 businesses. the reopening of wayne tech had gone smoothly. then there was the real estate firm that Kate had been running before you got to gotham as well as a nightclub. a little excessive but its a welcome reprieve with a fully stocked bar. you and Kate were happily living in your penthouse together. you had left alot of it alone due to both of you missed Bruce and wanted him to be honored.~

Kate: “YN, did you put..”

YN: “top drawer in the middle cabinet, Kate did you...”

Kate: “its in your desk in the center drawer...”

you and Kate were functional working happy couple. this was to be the night of the wayne tech gala. you both had put one on as tghe grand reopening and now its a yearly thing. to showcase everything that is in development for the people of gotham.

Kate: “can you believe that its already been almost 2 years...”

YN: “can you believe that i never thought i would have ever been working for wayne tech again.”

kate: “can you believe that you are the most beautiful woman at this party.”

YN: “your not so bad yourself.”

Kate smiled as she came up behind you to help you do up your dress.

Kate: “do you think bruce would be proud of what we have done and are doing?”

YN: “i think whereever he is he is very proud of us... and even better he would be honored that we took this mantle and have upheld it for the good of the Wayne family legacy.”

thats when an intruder alert sounded. it was one of the silent alarms on the wayne manor property.

YN: “we should go as ourselves not in costume.”

Kate: “ill call Mary and Luke and have them stall for time at the gala. we will be there in plenty of time. but your right as usual.”

YN: “good thing we travel to impress.”

Kate: “we also travel combat ready... i get now why you always have slits in your dresses. lets go.”

Kate and you got onto Kates bike and drove off towards the detection. ah yes wayne manor now declared sacred land and only for family, it was unusual that someone would dare to venture onto the property.

upon arrival at the gate you and Kate parked and got off the bike leaving your helmets and hiding the valuables in the safe installed on the bike.

Kate: “keep your eyes open something isnt right.”

YN: “dont worry whatever it is we will make sure to handle this.”

Kate smiles and keeps you close while walking further onto the property. you remembered the last time you had been here before bruce left and disappeared.

Kate: “see anything yet?”

YN: “not yet... wait there is a light inside...”

you start running towards the house Kate follows in suit, you start going up the steps but stop as Kate comes up behind you and grabs your hand both of you walking up those stairs together.

Kate and you each opened one of the double doors, both of you walking inside the light seemingly brighter. you could hear rustling and creeking of floors. you and Kate wanted to charge in “guns” blazing but you were in civilian form not a good idea.

you both stop outside the door to the room, you hear a familiar voice. no it cant be...

Kate: “whoever that is, is going to be tried for trespassing...”

except you knew that voice... you knew who it was...

YN: “dont be rash babe, i recognize the voice.”

you open the door with Kate on your heels.

YN: “talia...”

the figure turns around and remves her hood.

Talia: “its been a long time YN. how have you been?”

YN: “to be fair its been a gong show... what with having just come back to gotham last night after being in star city for the last several years.”

Talia: “i guess it has been a long long time. whose your friend?”

Kate holds her hand towards talia and stands tall beside you.

Kate: “kate kane, im Bruce’s cousin. im as of 1 and a half years ago YN’s girlfriend.”

Talia shakes kates hand.

YN: “what are you doing here talia?”

Talia: “i mean no disrespect but something seemed wrong about Bruce disappearing. something felt wrong and if i can find out why it felt wrong then i can find out where Bruce disappeared to.”

YN: “keep us informed, we have an expo to get too.. we are so late...”

Kate: “if you wish there will be a ticket for you at the door Talia. it was very nice to meet you.”

Talia: “as it was to meet you Kate.”

You and Kate leave Talia to what she was doing and head back to the bike. Tears fell from your eyes thinking about Bruce and how proud he would be of both you and Kate.

Kate: "thinking about Bruce?"

YN: "I just wish he were here to see what we have accomplished. But let's get to the expo and reveal the plans for the developments that we have come up with."

Kate hands you your helmet before hse puts hers on as you both get back on the bike and head to the expo. Parking in the parking garage you make the notion that you both got dirt on your outfits.

Kate: "shit Mary is gonna kill us... She might have planned for something like this... Hold on let me..."

before kate could call Mary, mary rang Kate’s cell...

Kate: “Mary thank god its you listen YN and i had a little run in with some dirt both our outfits are no longer presentable do you have any spare outfits.”

Mary yells at luke and then speaks a moment.

mary: “meet me in the washrooms in the lobby... i will have them there shortly..”

you and Kate sneak your way through the corridors and head into the lobby washrooms. anxiously awaiting Mary’s arrival with your replacement outfits, you made sure that you kept a level head.

Kate: “you look a little tense love...”

YN: “i wanted this night to go smoooth and now we have to do a costume change only a few short moments before we have to be on stage for the toasts. this is not how this night was supposed to go...”

Kate: “not to worry, there is still plenty of time for things to go right.”

Mary walks in a while later, you look at Kate with anticipation for the way that you were hoping this night would go was not what it seemed.

Mary: okay whose first for their outfit change...

Kate: just give me the outfits Mary, you and Luke need to make sure no one comes in here for a few moments while we get changed... once we are changed ill knock on the door and you and come and collect the outfits.

Mary: that sounds do-able. just both of you hurry up people are asking for you, important people.

you and Kate were not sure who could be out there but you both were certain that this night was gonna be a rocking good time.

getting into your clean outfits you both realize that you both are wearing your costume colors. Kate knocks on the door once you both are presentable, mary walks in.

Mary: you both look spectacular!

Kate: ya in our costume colors what is going on?

Mary: luke developed a microchip to change anything into your costumes its like a portable solution. but these are just incase of any ruckass. which we are hoping there wont be but just in case here they are.

Kate: what if we just want to be normal for one night?

Mary reaches into the neckline of Kates shirt and your bra line on your dress and pulls out the microchips.

Mary: if you both change your minds i have the chips now go you both are due for your speech in a few moments.

you and kate go out of the washroom, arriving in the ballroom to be greeted by dignitaries and just in time to be called up on stage. politely excusing yourselves you both walk up on stage.

Kate: whats up gotham city. thank you all so much for coming out tonight. this year so far is really big and productive for the company. i cant believe its been almost 2 years since me and YN brought wayne tech back to life. if bruce wayne were here today, to see what we have done he would be very proud of everything we are doing to keep this legacy alive. the silent auction will run all night the winner will be contacted by telephone and by email. the prizes will be availble for drop off or pick up at wayne tech. now i am gonna turn the mic over to my business partner and girlfriend YN.

YN: thanks kate, so as you all have seen around the room are some of the plans to refurbish some of the wings at arkham as well as build a secure wing for those more deadly super criminals. our goal is to create a more secure enviroment as well as give the orderlies more space for any other crazies that may pop up or have to go to arkham thanks to the donations of you Gotham we almost have the funds to start the arkham asylum expansion project.

Kate: before we sign off for the evening i have something i would like to do. bare with me i have not put alot of thought into this but here it goes.

Kate turns to you taking your hand in her own.

Kate: Yn you and i have taken Wayne tech and brought it back from the dust and shadows like a phoenix in rebirth but tonight as we boht stand before all of gotham i have a question for you, this night at this gala i want to know. Will you YN marry me?

she then got down on one knee and held a ring box to you open to a rose gold entwined celtic knot band with a emerald cut stone in the center. your face went pretty fast from shock to a face of happy complete utter joy.

YN: yes!

was all you managed to squeak out. kate placed the ring on your finger and kissed you before holding both your hands up for the press to see the gripped shot of the engagement ring.

you were not sure what else would come out of your mouth. thats when luke stepped onto the stage with mary. both of them bringing you and kate some champagne.

mary: waiters are coming around with champagne will you all please join me in raising a toast to YN and Kate the best people for the right jobs at the right moments. we are honored to be in your debt. to YN and Kate.

the toast made, the congratulations flowed in, the press all over your engagement. even the crows offered congratulations.

~what happens now is a different story for a different time~

#batwoman #kate kane x reader #cw batwoman

94 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 5 years

Text

True Love

Prompt: Can I have a delusional Jungkook who is obsessed with fairytales and the whole idea of “prince meets princess and falling in love at first sight”, and is convinced that y/n is the princess and he has to “save” her in order to achieve a happen ending?

Admin: @psycho-slytherin 🐍

Warnings: Yandere-themes, stalking-themes, and profanity.

»»————-　♔　————-««

It was all coming together. Jungkook swiped through his phone, checking and rechecking his plans. Tomorrow, between 9:14 and 9:18 AM– depending on foot traffic– she’d round the eastern corner of 14th and Park. She’d be carrying her purse and a coffee, but she’d be finishing her drink by the time she reached the corner. The point, the most crucial part, is that her hands would be full. He’d bump into her, she wouldn’t be able to catch herself, and he’d swoop her up before she fell. She’d have to fall in love with her Prince Charming, and he’d, at last, have his princess. His y/n. Everything would be perfect.

They were destined to be together– Soulmates, Jungkook was sure, he’d known it since he’d first laid eyes on y/n. She was his true love.

»»————-　♔　————-««

You check your watch, careful not to twist your wrist enough to spill your coffee. 9:12. Finally, it looks like you’ll get to work early today! With a spring in your step, you weave through the usual crowd of hurried suits and turn the corner. You have a meeting that you’ve been preparing ages for, and you’re thinking of nothing but your various talking points, everything you’re going to present, when–

“Oof!” You bump into someone, hard, and lose your balance. Shit, shit, your hands are full. You drop your coffee and purse in an attempt to catch yourself, but instead of solid concrete, you feel the contact of strong arms holding you tightly.

“Are you alright?” You look up at your rescuer and see gorgeous dark eyes full of soft concern. The stranger helps you to your feet and hands you your purse. “That was quite a fall.”

“Ah, thank you– I’m okay. Appreciate it, man.” You breathe deeply to calm your pounding heart. The handsome stranger seems to be waiting for something. What else can you say? “Er… thanks again.” With that, you turn and begin walking to work, your pace increasing. Dammit, you really hope this won’t make you late.

“W-Wait!” The stranger grasps at your wrist, his eyes bright, his voice revealing an emotion you can’t understand. “Do you believe in… love at first sight?”

“Uh…” Aaaand he’s crazy. You pull your arm from his grip and hurry away, flustered. Love at first sight? What fairy-tale bullshit. Sure, he’s cute, but the creepy-to-cuteness factor is way off balance in this case. Love at first sight… When you were a kid, you dreamed of being a princess and riding off into your happily ever after. But you’ve grown up since then, and you know fairy tales aren’t real.

You glance backward. He’s staring after you, and you feel a rush of guilt. He looks like a kicked puppy… or a wounded prince.

Prince? “Gah– stop it!” You scold yourself, blinking hard. The guy messed with your head, distracted you with that love-at-first-sight stuff. Whatever, you’ll forget about it soon enough. In the meantime, you’ve got your meeting to think about.

“And now I believe y/n, head of our innovation department, has the latest proposal?”

You stand. “Yes, thank you. With help from our customer surveys, we’ve noticed there are a few flaws in our current system.”

“Do you believe in… love at first sight?”

“We, uh, have devised a few options: First, we could begin requiring browser logins and game downloads for individual accounts– that will cut down on incidents such as the one that went viral last quarter. Additionally, we could consider removing ourselves from the browser-based gaming market entirely and shift to a downloaded application-type medium. We predict a decrease in traffic but profits should remain largely steady–”

His eyes, his lips, his hands, his skin, his voice...

“Due to ad revenue and potential membership opportunities.” You continue. “We could also consider discounted subscription packages, which seemed popular in our surveys.”

He was really cute. Maybe you were too hasty? You don’t even know his name.

“...We believe that changing the medium of the game presentation will improve security, decrease online harassment, and increase profits within the next three quarters. I will now take questions.”

Usually, creeps gave off a vibe, the type of thing you could sense right away. This guy didn’t give you that vibe.

“Very well said, y/n.” The company president clapped several times. “What software changes do you propose making for this to work?”

You beam. “It’s rather simple, we only need to move our content offline to an external database– we already have games in development using this system. The cost for the whole switch would be a fraction of potential profits.”

“Do you believe in… love at first sight?”

“The board members will give it some thought, y/n, and I’d be very optimistic. Great work.”

Yes! “Thank you.”

At the end of the day, you leave the office grinning. The meeting went really well, and if you pull off this project, you’re certain to be looking at a promotion. You’ve been working on the proposal for three months and now that it’s looking so good, you could sing.

“Y/n?”

At the summons, you turn around– and then stop dead. “You again.”

And it is the love-at-first-sight stranger from the morning. He waves awkwardly, breaking into a cute bunny-like smile. “Hi.”

“H-hi.” You brush some hair out of your face, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, how did you know my name?”

The guy winks. “Magic.”

“Or stalking.”

“Or…” The guy hands you a business card. Your business card. “Maybe you dropped this in the morning.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

In truth, Jungkook had your business card for a few months. He couldn’t say that, though, and he needed an excuse to know your name and place of business.

You look at him with your beautiful doe eyes, the kind of eyes that a man would kill to protect. “Why were you waiting for me?”

Jungkook smiles. “I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. I saw you dropped your card and, well… it seemed like a second chance.” A chance to be your prince, my love.

“Oh.”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook by the way.”

You smile shyly, that smile he’s seen a hundred thousand times, directed at everyone but him. You’re active on your social media accounts, and he’s seen all your photos. When you’re with your friends, your family, even today at your meeting– when you smile, you shine, a princess without a throne. It’s one of the things Jungkook loves about you. He can’t wait until your smile for him alone.

“I’m y/n. But I guess you knew that.”

“I did. Y/n, I’ll be honest, and I hope this doesn’t come off as too forward.” Jungkook leans towards you, his princess– his queen. “I’d love to get to know you better.”

“Um…” You hesitate, and a hint of fear makes its way up Jungkook’s spine. He really hopes you don’t reject him. In the months since he’s first noticed you, you’ve remained single. If you were to reject him, he couldn’t leave you to prance around in front of other men. If you, Jungkook’s princess, didn’t want his love, well… something would have to be done about that.

“Sure. That sounds cool.” You nod, a light blush coloring your cheeks.

Something akin to joy floods Jungkook’s psyche. The first step achieved. She said yes– she must see that what they have is true love.

Jungkook has always loved fairy tales. He was teased as a kid for how much he enjoyed princess stories. But Jungkook’s mom made it clear that she didn’t like him, and his dad was rarely around– unless he came home to berate Jungkook. No one could blame him for yearning for true love; it’s not like he ever experienced it at home. When he first saw you, he knew you were his princess. He needed to rescue you, sweep you off your feet, and carry you off into your happily ever after. True love is real, and you’ll help him prove it. The characters in Disney movies were happy after finding each other. He knows you’ll make him feel happy. In fact, he’ll make sure of it.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Well, he’s cute, and he did return your business card. You’ll be careful. What harm can come from a date?

Later that night, you’re catching up on some work. The company president said he’d have the board’s answer on your proposal by next week, and since it seemed like a sure thing, you’re anxious to get the OK to move ahead with the project.

Your phone buzzes.

Jeon Jungkook: Are we on for Friday at six, milady? [10:43]

Y/n: Haha yep, see you then! [10:43]

Jeon Jungkook: Can’t wait :) [10:43]

Jeon Jungkook: What are you up to? [10:44]

Y/n: Just organizing resources for a project [10:45]

Y/n: I’ve been working really hard on it [10:45]

»»————-　♔　————-««

Oh, Jungkook knows. He’s a decent hacker. When you were out drinking with friends last month, he accessed your laptop and installed a backdoor program that lets him see whatever you’re doing on your computer. It’s been useful: he knows about your work projects; the failed first dates; your porn preferences; your email contacts. He just wanted to make sure you weren’t cheating on him. Perfect princesses don’t cheat, and he knows you’re his perfect princess.

Friday arrives. Even though it’s only been a few days since he asked you out, Jungkook has been waiting for months to finally sweep you off your feet. It’ll be amazing. He walks up to the door, the details of which he’s practically memorized, and knocks. Three grand knocks, just like he’d imagined.

“Half a moment!” Your sweet voice floats from inside the house. Jungkook presses his lips together– do you even know how beautiful, how kind, how regal you are?

And when you swing the door open, his heart aches with desire. He can’t wait to possess you entirely. You’re wearing what Jungkook has to assume is your favorite light pink dress. You wore it to your birthday dinner four months ago, and again to your friend’s wedding three weeks ago. He hasn’t seen you wear this dress on other dates, though– does that make Jungkook special? He knew it. You do believe in love at first sight. You see the same thing he does: you’re destined to be soulmates.

“Your highness,” Jungkook says, holding out his arm.

You giggle and take his offered arm. Jungkook knows you think you’re just playing along with a joke. It’ll take a bit of time to introduce you to his royal fantasy– you don’t know you’re already Jungkook’s princess. But you will. Oh, you will.

»»————-　♔　————-««

The date goes surprisingly well. You haven’t been having good luck with dating lately, and you can actually see Jungkook being the one to break your dry spell. He’s a perfect gentleman, respectful and humorous. He continues to call you milady and your highness, and it’s cute, honestly. He makes you feel so special, almost like a princess.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook,” you say as he walks you to your door. “You finding my business card ended up being a pretty great coincidence.”

“I agree. I’m glad you decided to go out with me, y/n. I hope we can do this again.”

You nod. “Definitely.”

You smile as you change into your pajamas. You’re excited to see what Jeon Jungkook has in store. Before you get into bed, you open your laptop and notice a new email from the company president. Yes! Have you finally gotten the go-ahead and funding for the project you’ve poured yourself into?

Y/n, the email reads. I wish I had better news to give. The board declined your recent project proposal. Don’t let this discourage you from continuing to do great work! I’ll see you on Monday.

You sit back, slack-jawed, and rub your eyes. What? But… but it was looking so good. You worked so hard. What did you do wrong?

»»————-　♔　————-««

Jungkook frowns, looking at your computer screen on his phone. He’s still sitting in his car, parked around the block from your home. He knows how much you cared about getting this project approved. And this, this board. They kept his princess from achieving her goals. He blinks once, twice. Surely you’ll love him if he gets the board members to change their minds, if you realized he’d do anything for you. Jungkook turns the key in the ignition and drives home, thinking about how he can cheer you up. The individual board members are named on your company’s website– perhaps he’ll pay them a visit.

»»————-　♔　————-««

That night, you can’t sleep. This proposal was a display of your hard work, all the thought you’d put into making the company more successful. It was supposed to be a straight line to a promotion. The night started off so well, your date with Jungkook was so fun. Ugh. You bury your face in your pillow. How will you face your team members on Monday? And the board members. You know some of them don’t like you– you’re too determined, too innovative for a woman.

How you wish you could show them.

Whatever. It’s just one more failure. You’ll start brainstorming new proposals tomorrow.

You spend the rest of the evening tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling, and sulking. The weekend passes much in the same way. You’re not one to get discouraged, but it’s hard to feel hopeful. If the project had been approved, your responsibilities and funding would have shifted into seeing it through for at least the next year. Monday morning, you’re headed out the door when you get a text.

Jungkook: When can I see you again? [8:35]

Y/n: Want to grab dinner after work? I get off at 5. Shall we say 6:30? [8:36]

Jungkook: Your wish is my command. Have a good day at work ;) [8:36]

Y/n: Yeah fat chance [8:37]

»»————-　♔　————-««

What you don’t know, Jungkook decides, wiping a bit of something red off his cheek, won’t hurt you. You wanted this project– and your knight in shining armor will ensure you get it.

»»————-　♔　————-««

“Y/n, can I see you in my office for a moment?”

“Hm? Uh, yes. Sure.” You follow the president into his office.

“How are you doing?” He asks as he settles into his chair. You sit across the desk from him. “I know how hard you worked on that project– it’s okay to be upset.”

You straighten up in your chair. “I’m fine, sir. Just focusing on moving forward.”

“That’s good. Well, I’ve actually got some surprising news for you today. Three board members– that is, the three that voted down your proposal– contacted me separately over the weekend to let me know they changed their minds.”

“I- I’m sorry, what?”

“Your proposal has been unanimously approved, y/n. Congratulations. I’m excited to see where your vision will take this company.” The president reaches across the desk and shakes your hand. You can only stare, half euphoric, half numb. “You will, of course, be transferred along with your team to the advanced development department. I’ll have the paperwork ready for you by the end of the day.”

“Okay! Uh… thank you.” You break into a radiant grin. “Thank you so much, sir!”

“Don’t thank me, the board members made their decisions. That being said, you really deserve this. Good luck.”

You practically skip out of your boss’s office. You did it! You knew the meeting went well, they just needed more time! You did it!

That evening, you hum to yourself as you put on your makeup. Jungkook will be here soon, and you’re really excited to see him. Even though you told him you could meet at the restaurant, he insisted on picking you up. What a gentleman.

Three knocks at the door. “Coming~” you sing as you pad into the hall.

“You look beautiful, y/n,” Jungkook murmurs as you swing open the door.

“Oh stop it, charmer!” You laugh, swishing your skirt like it was a ballgown.

“You’re in a good mood today, what happened?”

“My project got approved! The board changed their minds. Isn’t that great?”

Jungkook laughs. “That’s fantastic! Congrats!”

On impulse, you throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

You snuggle into his shoulder. “For being so nice. For making me feel like a princess.”

You’re so preoccupied with how good Jungkook smells that you don’t notice him tugging his jacket up to cover a red stain on his sleeve.

“I’ll always be your prince, milady.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

This is true love, Jungkook thinks. We’ll get our happily ever after.

#yandere bts #yandere #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #yandere!jungkook #yandere!bts #bts #BTS jungkook #jungkook #yandere-society

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

Link

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,998 Warnings: Bad Teachers, Scorn of Peers, Violence Against Golems and Soldiers, Weapons, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self Image, Playful Threats Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Vibing™ too hard

Chapter 23

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Roman sighed and leaned back on the bleachers. It was dodgeball day, it seemed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being hit by something unexpectedly, so not having to participate was relieving. Roman didn’t want to do homework or read a book to pass the time, like they allowed him to, because it would make him look like a major nerd to a ton of dudes with testosterone pumping and that was just bullying central.

He couldn’t use his phone during school hours, though. He’d just do it anyway if the gym instructor wasn’t watching. She wasn’t a fan of the doctor’s note at all and continued shooting glances at him. As if he would mysteriously heal or something equally miraculous. They weren’t all mean glances. Mostly just annoyed. He got the same from most of the other people in his class. He’d probably also be jealous of sitting out on dodgeball, too, if he wasn’t already.

The gym teacher seemed miffed about the fact that the physician’s note was open-ended since Roman had to be cleared for exercise by a doctor. It was the same for any broken bone, but without a cast, people had trouble believing it seemed. This wasn’t Roman’s first rodeo with broken bones or anything. She was vexed she’d have to print up packets to serve as make-up classwork. Roman wasn’t aware you learned anything in gym class other than suffering, so that was new.

He wished he had the packets to work on already. She wasn’t doing anything other than lying back and ignoring a bunch of teen boys pummeling each other with dodgeballs, so it’s not like she couldn’t go into her office and print them up. Maybe she was attempting to make Roman stew in frustration for not taking part. If she was, she was succeeding fantastically. Roman was jittery and pissed off and generally in a terrible mood.

Fighting slouching in bleachers was surprisingly difficult. He just craved to lie down and take a nap, but the classmates would hate him more if he did. So Roman persevered and watched from the bleachers, catching himself slouching when the soreness in his side got worse. He positioned himself up high enough up that he was out of the danger zone of dodgeballs, but that meant the people against the wall could see him clearly.

He received bitter looks from people who were out and sitting on the sidelines on the gymnasium floor. He didn’t understand the ire since they were relaxing, too. Roman would personally rather take a dodgeball to the chest than a steel toe boot, but life just didn’t work out like that. He tried to elevate his feet while he watched. He wouldn’t get much of a chance to raise them throughout today, and they hurt. It was still better than staying home again. At least they were finally well enough that he could walk.

It was Roman’s bitter luck that Nolan was in his PE class and kept shooting him glares. This period was taking him forever. Nolan seemed to get progressively more annoyed at him for whatever reason. Roman sighed and decided not to look back. He didn’t prefer to accidentally start some kind of glare war. Roman’s left foot tapped nervously as he stared at the gym ceiling, waiting for the minutes to pass.

When he noticed himself fidgeting, he was supposed to wear the gloves, but there was no way he was ostracising himself even further by doing that. He didn’t care that he technically agreed to a compromise over it not wearing them in school. He stood out like rainbow tulip in a dead lawn with gloves and a T-shirt. They weren’t as obvious with his jacket, but his jacket was white and the brown leather just contrasted it. Roman just couldn’t find a way to make it work. He had shoved the gloves deep in his backpack instead.

He checked the massive wall clock in the gym as he carded his fingers through his shaggy hair. Roman had a bit of time to pass until history class. He had just sort of stewed in anger for most of the period, but his brain must have finally ranted out what it wanted to say for Roman to be capable of thinking about something else. He knew better than to challenge the times his head was obsessed with something by now. It was just easier to wait it out. Just another 10ish minutes of chilling on the bleachers to go. He was so bored it hurt, like a painful pressure gripping his brain and trying to open it up.

Roman lolled his head back to the ceiling and forced his mind to drift instead of fighting it. Something fun. Something cool. Fighting off an army atop a dragon. A spectacular sword. The dragon’s flames were acid green and melted everything instantly. Roman leaned back on his hands on the next row up of bleachers.

He was fighting the magically animated golems of an evil tyrant. He fired a crossbow to protect the dragon as it decimated the golems below. The great iridescent black dragon was trying to charge up a blast when Roman was nearly thrown off of it by flying machinations that expelled ice beams from their torsos. He was able to catch on to the tail and pull himself back up, deflecting ice beams with his sword. The dragon charged up its power in time thanks to Roman’s defense, and the machinations melted into puddles far below.

The dragon shot Roman a look, and Roman understood in an instant. The mighty winged beast flew close to the earth, and Roman tumbled expertly off the dragon. Roman and his trusty sword ploughed through the golem army, swinging wildly and protecting himself with well-timed blows and using the enemies as his shields. Roman approached the castle by foot as the dragon cleared out further golems around him. The army was dwindling, and they were successful.

Roman turned his eyes to the looming castle ahead. He had to stop this madness. Roman reached out and the dragon’s great claws swooped down and grasped Roman’s arm and lifted him from the field of decimated golem parts. The dragon flew Roman over the moat and past the raised drawbridge, but ballista prevented the dragon from going any further in. Roman was jettisoned towards the outer castle wall to get him closer to his target. He rolled as he landed on between the crenelations, skidding to a stop to stand and fight the soldiers.

Humans were arming the ballistae and defending the doors, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to kill, so he sheathed his blade and instead relied on his legs to do the talking. Roman leaped about and kicked soldiers off the machinery, knocking them out in a few precise hits to disable them. The guards at the door brandished blades at Roman, but he reached for his crossbow and fired a well-placed shot at each, pinning the soldiers by their clothes to give Roman just enough time to breach the doors.

The guards inside weren’t so easy, though. Roman had to take out his trusty sword once more to defend himself. He knew the evil sorcerer’s magic compelled them to fight, and they didn’t deserve death for the mistakes of another. Roman did his best to take the higher ground and send soldiers toppling down the stairs in the tower. He hoped he hadn’t harmed them too severely, but perhaps once this was all over healers could come help mend those Roman had to battle off.

Roman ascended the stairs into an upper corridor. Massive banners billowed in the wind that blustered through the hall. The magic was stronger here. Roman had to resist the powerful effects that caused his head to swim in the aura alone. Things would be worse in the inner chambers. His boots clicked loudly against the cold stone floors as he dashed down the hallway. This area was suspiciously empty of soldiers and the smell was strange. It felt almost electrically charged. Roman ran into a dead end. This couldn’t be the wrong way, could it?

He examined the hall further as he turned around. The walls were adorned with massive tapestries and sconces fitted with gems. The waste of the kingdom’s resources alone was ample reason to dethrone this monster. But his use of the forbidden magics propelled Roman forward to do what had to be done before the entire kingdom fell to ruin from the sinister arts infecting the lands.

Banners and tapestries littered this hall, but a strangely blank wall between two sconces caught Roman’s attention as he passed. Roman wasn’t practiced, but he felt what he was looking for. He reached deep within himself and forced out the raw power within. With unrefined powers, he could do nothing skilled, but he could break a barrier. The illusion shattered and a strident cracking sound shook the hallway. One minor success wasn’t enough to celebrate, though. Roman was here for one reason alone. He scaled the stairs that were obscured by the now broken barrier two at a time as he pushed deeper into the belly of the beast.

The staircase narrowed and Roman sprinted with all of his being to escape the shrinking passage, staying ahead of the walls cinching shut behind him. This dark sorcery could try to deflect him, but Roman was quicker. He raced up the stairs and cleared into a new chamber just as it was becoming too narrow to traverse. Roman stumbled in, his bearings shaken by the sheer intensity of the tainted aura encasing the chamber. This would be his most challenging battle yet.

He straightened his back and locked eyes with the dark sorcerer upon his despicable throne. The entire room shook with the sorcerer’s booming, sinister laugh. Roman drew his blade and stood his ground. He wouldn’t show weakness now. Now that the final battle was here, he had to stay strong. He couldn’t afford an ounce of fear as he slowly approached the villain’s throne as the ominous wind howled all around them. Then the bell rang and Roman tumbled back on his bench from the shock. Shit.

Roman grabbed his backpack and left as fast as he could safely stand down the bleacher stairs. The students down on the wood gymnasium floor weren’t familiar, however. And even the wrong age group. Son of a bitch, did he miss lunch? Stupid ridiculously short lunch periods! He was late for class. Goddammit, he didn’t even get to defeat the evil sorcerer!

He wasn’t surprised nobody told him or anything, but he couldn’t exactly be a speed demon on his healing feet. Roman knew if he stepped the wrong way he’d get stuck at home a few days again and he wasn’t risking it. He also didn’t need detention for running. Roman went as hastily as he could manage to his history class.

He’d rather be back in the castle than history, but he could never get a daydream back once he lost it. That meant that particular kingdom was doomed to fall to the taint of the forbidden magic under the rule of a tyrant. He was at least lucky he ended up daydreaming instead of sitting there and being bored for the whole period.

Roman pushed the classroom door open as quietly as he could achieve, but a classroom’s worth of eyes landed on him as he arrived. He flinched at all the unwanted attention and headed for his seat.

“Detention, Mr. Reinhart,” The teacher drolled as Roman slid into his desk. Son of a bitch. Roman was fated to detention either way. He had so much homework though, it wouldn’t make a difference if he started it in after-school detention or if he did it at home. Roman may as well do it today, just to have it out of the way.

The teacher’s voice droned on as Roman got out the things listed on the board and struggled to follow the lecture. It felt like the words went right into gibberish land when he attempted to focus on them, so Roman had to find the careful balance between focused and distracted without slipping into another daydream every class. It was annoying as hell.

He tapped his fingers on his thigh and started doodling stars in the margins of his notes. Other than clearly jumping in the middle of a lecture, he could start to try to pinpoint things that sounded important to take notes on. People, years, locations, quick event summaries, and concepts that were generally interesting. Teachers liked to use kinds of things those on tests. Missing part of the lecture was nothing new for Roman, anyway. His notes were always a scattered mess out of context, but if he managed to label an overarching category, he could usually understand them.

Roman was sketching a bobcat jumping between the stars when the bell finally rang again. He traded his homework for a detention slip at the teacher’s desk and left the classroom in a huff. That dragon with the awesome super hot flames would totally eat that teacher for breakfast. He wished to know more about those tapestries, too. He had lots more notes to fail to take and pages of homework to turn in, though, even if he could get a daydream back.

If Patton didn’t help him on Sunday Roman didn’t think he could have possibly done all the homework he had gotten over the 3 days he was out. It was like the school was trying to kill students with mountains of paper. How many trees did academia kill every year, anyway? Probably a horrific number he shouldn’t look up and depress himself further with. He couldn’t stop thinking about that daydream. Those golems made such a cool noise when they died, damnit. He’d probably give up and attempt to bring the daydream back next class.

—

Roman sighed with relief when his eyes met with the couch as he arrived at the house that afternoon. His feet were sore as shit and he wanted to put them up more than anything. Stupid fresh skin, not hardened to the brutal reality of life yet. He felt it every time the skin on his foot bent.

He slid his backpack under the coffee table so no one would trip over it and kicked off his shoes to lay back on the couch. Bed might be better, but couch . Sure, he seemed like he lived there lately, but right now home was wonderful. Roman buried his face under a throw pillow and sighed with relief as blood shifted out of his feet and he was no longer opposing gravity to keep a straight spine. Good posture was hard.

“Roman?” Thomas asked, and it sounded like he came into the living room from his office. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you were. You didn’t answer your texts,” He said, sounding concerned. Whoops. He felt a little bad for worrying Thomas.

“Sorry, after school detention,” Roman said plainly, flipping his hand. “Hadn’t taken my phone off silent yet,” He explained from behind the cushion.

“Detention? For what?” Thomas asked curiously.

“I was late to history,” Roman responded blithely as he flopped his arm loosely off the couch.

“Because you couldn’t move quickly enough? Those heartless-” Thomas sounded surprisingly pissed. He’d seen Thomas being irate before, but this was new and a little scary, if he was honest with himself. He knew it wasn’t about him , but all angry adults made him want to run. He needed to cut Thomas off.

“I was late because I was an idiot and spaced out waiting for gym to be over, not because I couldn’t get there on time in the stupid 8 minutes they give you,” Roman interjected quickly. Thomas settled down fast, thank god, and just looked concerned again. He was used to ‘concerned’ from Thomas. That was fine. Roman settled down again, sinking the tension from his muscles back into the couch. He was hungry and thirsty but didn’t feel like getting up. He didn’t even feel like getting up to play games. Though he had at least another hour of homework and shouldn’t play anyway, or he’d forget to do it.

“Were you-” Thomas started and Roman had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I was fine. I was just daydreaming and didn’t hear the first bell go off,” Roman cut him off to explain.

“How did you not hear ?” Thomas asked, bordering on disbelief and befuddlement.

“Daydreaming, remember?” Roman reminded him, unsure why Thomas was confused. Had he never gotten caught up in a daydream before? It happened to Roman every few days, it seemed.

“And nobody told you?” Thomas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. What kind of school did Thomas go to where people looked out for you? Geez.

“I’m lucky I didn’t get pelted with a dodgeball. It’s fine. The detention is already done, and I did some homework in it,” Roman shrugged lazily. “Detention isn’t much of a punishment when you have nothing better to do. There was a stoner in there just doing zen finger crochet for the whole hour. It was amazing. I think I learned how to do it just by watching him. I’ve only ever used a hook,” Roman said, still feeling very impressed by how he didn’t stop or do literally anything else. Roman’s gesturing knocked the throw partially off his face and he didn’t bother to move it back.

“I… suppose that’s a good way to look at it. Is there something we can get so you can have more fun at home?” Thomas proposed, sounding awkward. Roman had no idea what he could feel awkward about, though, and he certainly wasn’t giving Thomas any money-spending ideas.

“And make detention suck worse for the next time I mess up?” Roman lilted airily and let out a single dark laugh.

“ Roman ,” Thomas responded firmly, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. He had a surprisingly intense gaze for a dumb joke.

“What? It was a joke,” Roman replied dryly with a small huff.

“I don’t appreciate that you made the assumption that you’ll inevitably mess up,” Thomas sounded upset and shook his head lightly, looking pointedly at Roman.

“Well, it’s the one constant in my universe, so why not embrace it?” Roman sighed and flipped his hand dismissively close to the floor, feeling too lazy to move more than that.

“ Roman ,” Thomas chided. Roman rolled his eyes that were partially skewed by the pillow.

“Fine, whatever. I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, that was in poor taste or something,” Roman conceded. He was too tired to argue.

“Why are you shaking? I didn’t scare you, did I?” Thomas asked quickly in a concerned tone. Roman furrowed his eyebrows and threw off the throw pillow to look at his hand.

“Oh, huh,” Roman commented blithely, watching his hand slightly tremble. “No, you didn’t startle me. I’m okay, I’m just fu-frickin’ tired. That happens often, I don’t know why. I assume it’s my crap sleep,” Roman explained and his hand sagged back down.

“Good catch, kid,” Thomas chuckled weakly. “I’ll make you some tea, maybe that will help?” Thomas said, not sounding sure but hopeful nonetheless.

“You don’t need to do anything for me, like I said it just kind of… happens,” Roman shrugged and laid his arm over his eyes.

“I’ll make myself some tea, too,” Thomas said lightly and headed to the kitchen. Roman huffed, but he wouldn’t mind some tea. He could make it himself without bothering Thomas, but if Thomas was already doing it for himself, then maybe that wasn’t a big deal and he could let it go.

Something was unsettling about laying his arm over his eyes, so he returned it to limp noodle status and stared at the ceiling instead. He wondered how Remus was doing. He also wondered what Virgil was doing holed up in his room again. Virgil had that laptop. Maybe he did something on that all day. Being allowed to use the TV here was awesome, but Roman got the draw of hiding in your room with the door closed. The living room was open and a central part of the residence. Lying around in the living room for nearly a week made him much more comfortable here, though. Thomas and Patton were worrywarts, but they were… nice. Being out here was okay sometimes. He didn’t want to push it, or anything.

Thomas came back out into the living room and slid a mug of tea on the side table near where Roman was laying and he sat down nearby with his mug, holding it in his hands and looking like he was sniffing it. Roman caught a whiff of the tea while he passed, and it smelled like vanilla and spices, which smelled relaxing.

“I feel like playing something kind of silly. Do you want to join me?” Thomas looked over to Roman with a small smile.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Roman nodded and slowly shifted himself to sit up on the couch again, putting his feet up and sitting sideways. “I’ll go lay in your office, or something, you don’t have to stay out here to watch me,” Roman offered nervously. He had fun playing with Thomas last time, and Thomas knew when to stop so Roman wouldn’t end up playing forever on accident and forget his homework.

“No, I hit a roadblock with writing. I need to take a break before I fry my brain. We cook stuff together in this game, it’s kind of fast-paced but it should be fun,” Thomas responded brightly, getting up to grab the controllers. “The game is kind of hard with just two, so inviting Virgil might help. Will you text him?” Thomas asked, slipping out another controller from the charging station. He passed off a joycon to Roman with a smile. Roman nodded and invited Virgil to play with them.

“Do you think he wants to?” Roman asked carefully.

“It never hurts to ask. It’s nice to feel included even if he’s busy with something,” Thomas said, settling down on the couch again. That was a nice thought, but Roman didn’t like it when people shot him down when he invited them to things. Roman watched his phone uneasily while he waited for a response. Virgil normally texted back quickly. Virgil sent back a thumbs up and came down the stairs a moment later.

‘I will kick your ass,’ Virgil signed with a smug smile, backing up into the couch and climbing up to the top. Thomas tossed him a joy-con and smiled brightly.

“Okay, one sec,” Thomas said and straightened his hair while the game loaded. “Cool. Pick your characters here. Make sure they look different enough you don’t get confused. Patton had that problem,” Thomas chuckled. Virgil picked a vampire, Roman chose a dragon, and Thomas picked a unicorn. Roman was amused they all chose supernatural avatars. Virgil stared at the loading screen in confusion for a moment where it showed the map.

‘Wait, co-op?’ Virgil fingerspelled and narrowed his eyes at Roman. Roman held up his hands and shrugged.

“What’s wrong, Virgil?” Thomas asked, noticing Virgil’s glower.

“I suppose I should have specified this wasn’t a versus game,” Roman replied, glancing between Virgil and Thomas and chewed his lip.

“It’s fun, just give it a shot. A few levels and we can switch to a fighting game if you don’t like it,” Thomas offered. Virgil considered it for a second and nodded in agreement, turning toward the TV and looking intense. Roman liked that compromise, as well. He hadn’t played a fighting game in a long time and couldn’t wait to show Virgil he’d need a lot more than determination to beat him.

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jooheonspinky · 5 years

Text

Lure of the Lore 6

Word Count: 3.6K

Saturday found me and Changkyun finishing up breakfast and preparing to leave.

“You ready?” I ask as I set the last dish to dry.

“Ready as I ever will be,” Changkyun’s giddy smile greets me as I turn around.

I can feel the excitement pouring out of him in waves. It’s hard not to soak up some the same emotions and within moments I’m grinning as well. This day will be an epic day for us, and it’s really difficult to contain all the sentiments inside.

“Come on, bro,” I giggle as I grab his keys. “I’m driving.”

He doesn’t argue. He’s much too eager to meet his family to fight me. He’s a chatterbox the entire time, making the drive go by much faster than my first time. I park in the same spot as before and peer through my windshield at the tree line. My heart rate instantly picks up speed and I have to take a few deep breaths before I can exit the car.

“Alright, let’s go,” Changkyun urges impatiently.

I fall instep beside him and find it’s not as scary as the first time I’d come. The cell service is pretty spotty once we are under the canopy of the trees. I’m grateful to have taken a few screen shots of the area before hand and we use that to guide us through.

After a few miles of walking, we reach a cabin in the vicinity that Wonho had pointed out. Surrounded by expansive oaks and long-leaf pines, the logs of the home take on a deeper, darker hickory tone. I glance over at Changkyun just as his Adams apple bobs nervously in his throat. This was the moment we’ve been waiting for and it was hard to believe it was actually here.

Taking the three steps up to the front porch, I give him a moment to collect himself before I knock.

“Hello!” I call out when no one opens up. “I’m a friend of Wonho. Anyone here?”

Silence.

Changkyun looks over at me desperately before he too begins to knock. I glance down at my watch. It was a few minutes shy of noon. Maybe they were out. It was a Saturday, after all.

A twig snapping has us both turning swiftly on our heels. I scan the area, inching closer to Changkyun as I do so. A tall figure emerges from behind the trunk of a massive oak. The Kool-Aid purple hair of the young man seems at odds with the dangerous vibe that radiates from him. I run the hair descriptions that Wonho gave me through my mind, but I don’t recall him ever mentioning purple. I shiver as the hair on the back of my neck begins to stand on end. As if sensing my reaction to him, he lifts his hands up slightly while he saunters forward, his eyes on my best friend. Not taking any chances, Changkyun steps in front of me protectively.

“There hasn’t been any one home for a few days now,” the man informs us with a dimpled smile.

His tone is warm and amicable. Were it any other occasion, I’d probably be charmed by his friendly demeanor. But here in these dusky woods, the calmness in him only has me on edge the closer he gets.

“Stop right there,” Changkyun warns, his hands fisting at his sides.

The man does so instantly.

“Listen man, I’m not here to cause trouble,” he assures us. “I just wanted to see if you knew when they would be coming back is all.”

“Who do you know that lives here?” I call out, peaking from behind Changkyun, wanting clarification if we were here for the same people.

This brings his attention onto me and he quirks an eyebrow. His nose lifts in the air as if he were sniffing, and then his head tilts slightly, an amused…almost proud… grin now slipping across his lips.

“Wonho.”

I grasp onto Changkyun’s arm. Who was this man?

“How do you know him?” he asks before I can.

The young man shrugs, “We go way back. I was in town and wanted to say hi, but they don’t seem to be home whenever I come by. Any clue when they will be?”

“Not really.”

“Well, if you see any of them before I do, can you pass along this message?” Changkyun stiffens as the young man reaches a hand into has jacket pocket. No weapon is drawn, but rather a business card is held up between his middle and index fingers. He lays it on the leaf strewn ground and straightens up. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“Who are you?” he demands just as the stranger turns to walk off.

Looking over his shoulder, he smiles, “I am what you are to become.”

His eyes suddenly flash orange just before he darts hastily into the woods. I gasp, squeezing Changkyun’s arm.

“It’s one of them!” I dash down the steps to retrieve the card, my body trembling.

Changkyun is right behind me, peering over my shoulder.

“‘No more running. It’s time we finally talk-Namjoon’,” Changkyun whispers. “Who’s Namjoon?”

“Wonho’s never mentioned him by name, but the orange eyes…” I shake my head while turning to face him. “He’s part of the rival pack. Wonho says they are the ones that killed his family…your family.”

His features flit from shock to anger within an instant.

“He…he killed my family?” he grits out.

“I’m sorry,” I nod.

As his lips turn into a tight line across his face and his breathing becomes heavy, my heart breaks. This was too much for him, opening the wound that I had worked so hard to heal since we were 5. I step into him, wrapping my arms around him. It’s all I can do. No words would ever bring back the mother and father he had so desperately hoped to find one day. The thought that they may be dead had never crossed his mind. But learning that they were murdered when he was just a little boy of 2…and coming face to face with their killer…or at least a member of the clan responsible for their deaths; the opportunity for vengeance possibly lost? It was all too much at once.

His own arms tightened around me. With his face buried in my neck, Changkyun trembles in my arms with various emotions. For the first time since we were wee kids, I feel hot tears smear against my skin and soak into my shirt as he weeps silently against me. I say naught, merely rock him side to side while I let him get all of his sorrow and regret out.

•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

Silence encompasses us as I drive back home. Changkyun stares blankly out of the window at the passing scenery, no words leaving his lips. Even though he’s quiet, I know his mind is running a million miles a minute. What must it have been like to be faced by someone you hadn’t even known was your enemy? My heart hurt to see him so despondent.

As I continue to maneuver the car through traffic, I offer my hand, palm up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look down at it, a lone tear clinging desperately to his lashes. Changkyun’s left hand slides into mine…then his right one hugs both our hands over his heart as he takes a deep breath and lets it out woefully. Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes, his hands still holding desperately to mine.

His voice is low and rumbling with bass as he confesses, “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I think I would have lost my mind a long time ago.”

“Pssht, you’d be fine,” I chuckle.

“I don’t think so,” he rolls his head to the side to face me. I glance over quickly to see his countenance is serious. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with all this, but I just wanted you to know I really appreciate your friendship. You’ve been there for me since I can remember. Thinking back…I don’t think I’ve ever told you that I love you.”

A lump forms in my throat as I fight the urge to cry. Why does this suddenly feel like good-bye? I look over to see unashamed love and gratefulness in his gaze. He offers a small smile even as his eyes blink sleepily and I return my attention to the road.

Swallowing the lump down, I shrug, “You don’t have to say it. You’ve shown it in your own way through time.”

“Yes, but it’s good to confirm it verbally,” he squeezes my hand for emphasis. “You’ve been like family to me. A little sister to look out for and take care of just as you’ve taken care of me, your oppa. I just want you to know that no matter what happens with these guys, I love you and you will always be my family.”

Ah, I smile in relief. He’s worried I’ll feel replaced by his six real family members. Though the thought that he would abandon me now that he had blood family had never crossed my mind, it is still nice to hear him affirm it.

“Understood. Family for life,” I nod with a pleased grin. “And I love you, too, you big sap.”

We both laugh for a few moments before we quiet down again. It doesn’t take long for the soothing motion of the car to lull Changkyun to sleep, leaving me to my own thoughts.

Before we left, I’d taken a picture of the business card then slid it under the cabin door. We hadn’t been prepared for the guys to not be there and Changkyun and I had not brought paper or pen in order to leave a note of our own. We would decide to come back the next day.

Tonight we would go see Wonho after hours. It will be exciting to see him and Changkyun interact as family. And there’s the fact that I haven’t seen him in a few days and I was actually missing him. It’s only been a week since we first met, but there is no doubting there is some sort of connection there. Unfortunately, with the circumstances, it’s not something either of us can actually explore at the moment. I need to just concentrate on getting him out of there.

“Oh!”

It’s like a light bulb goes off in my head suddenly. Why didn’t I think of this before?! Parking the car in Changkyun’s drive way, I do my best to wake him gently.

“Bro!” I whisper-shout. “Wake up!”

Changkyun sits up, looking around blearily.

“We’re here already?”

“Yes, but listen,” I demand. “A saw.”

Eyes slightly wide, I wait expectantly, but he stares back at me in confusion.

“Is a tool,” he replies slowly with a frown.

“Ah, come on. We can use a saw to cut the bars open and bust Wonho out!”

I clap happily, proud of my plan.

“Hmmm…a saw,” Changkyun repeats. “I think I have one

out back. Let’s go.”

After a bit of rummaging around in his storage shed, we finally find one. We enjoy some lunch and afterwards I make Changkyun the tea. It’s much too early to go see Wonho so we pop in a movie, falling asleep midway through it.

•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

Hours later when we wake, I make ramen with chicken, carrots, mushrooms and hard boiled eggs. I also prepare homemade cinnamon tea. Pouring it into a thermos that will keep it hot for quite some time, I include cups for the three of us. I pack everything up with Changkyun’s help, making sure we have the saw, before we head out to see Wonho.

Changkyun drives this time. I direct him where to park the car and we wait until I’m certain Richard and the small staff have left for the evening. Grabbing our picnic, we make our way up and around the back to the meeting spot. Wonho is already peeking through the whole, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he waits for us to get closer.

“Changkyunie,” he laughs giddily. “I knew from the first night I saw you. There was something familiar…”

I place everything on the ground and pin up the flap. Changkyun kneels down coming face to face with his older cousin.

“Are you sure?” he asks, doubt still worrying at his mind.

Wonho stands, his voice muffled as he commands, “Shine a light here.”

I do so, quickly. Changkyun and I peer in to see Wonho lift his shirt just beneath his ribs with one hand and tug his pants down a little with his other. I blush as he reveals the flesh of his hip to us, but before I can look away in an effort to be modest, I see it. The birthmark that is just like Changkyun’s.

“There’s no denying that,” I whisper in awe looking over at Changkyun. “He really is your family.”

“Oh man.”

The words come out on a huff of air, too many emotions wrapped in those two words. Changkyun’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he fights back the tears.

“I want you to know we never stopped looking for you,” Wonho affirms from inside.

He could only nod, words unable to make their way past the lump in his throat.

“We’re going to get you outta here, Wonho, so you both can have a proper reunion,” I vow.

“How are you going to do that? Did you find our pack?”

“No, but we brought this,” Changkyun says, his voice a bit hoarse.

He presents the saw, the cellphone light gleaming off of the blade.

“A saw?”

“Yep, we’ll just saw through these here bars and have you out in no time,” I grin.

“It’s not going to work,” Wonho shakes his head in exasperation.

But I insist, needing to see for myself.

“Go on, put those big muscles to work,” I usher, my hand pointing at one of the bars, index finger wiggling animatedly. “I mean…not that I noticed them or anything,” I trail off, my cheeks blazing.

Wonho smirks while Changkyun groans, already done with my antics.

Taking the tool, we watch anxiously as Wonho grabs a bar tightly in one fist, then begins to slide the ragged blade across the metal. I grimace as we notice the sharp edges promptly bend and become dull. There are barely any markings on the bar, though sweat glistens across Wonho’s forehead, clearly showing he was putting much exertion into the sawing.

“Ok, fine. Stop,” I sigh disappointed.

He returns the destroyed tool to me and I toss it on the ground and glare at it in annoyance.

“Regular tools are not going to work on this. That’s why I need you to find my cousins,” Wonho tells us. “Did you get a chance to go where I told you to?”

“We did and we found the cabin, but there was no one there,” Changkyun reports.

“Ok,” he nods back, but I can tell he’s upset.

“There was someone that showed up,” I add cautiously. “He left a note. I took a pic then slid the card under the door for your cousins to find when they do come back.”

I pull up my photos and turn the screen to face Wonho. Instantly his jaw clenches, the muscle tightening and loosening up with the gesture.

“He didn’t harm you?” he grits out, slightly surprised, but more so angry at the sight of the name before him. “Are you sure?”

In that moment he looks so dangerous, feral as his incensed eyes flick up to trap mine. They are demanding, the green glow is so bright it’s almost pulsing, commanding me to speak the truth or else. I recoil realizing just how wild he truly can be. Changkyun, probably sensing my sudden fear, slips his hand into mine protectively.

“No,” he tells Wonho, his voice strong and steady. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

Wonho’s stare remains on me, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths. The muscles beneath his skin seem to be shifting. Wonho’s lips peel back as he bears his teeth. His face continues to ripple while his canines descend. A low growl rumbles from his throat. I swallow hard wondering if he’s upset himself so badly that he’s triggered a transformation. Can that even happen though…without the full moon? There was still so much I didn’t know about lycanthrope.

Forcing my own self to calm down enough to push my fright aside, I step closer to the opening…closer to the beast within.

“I’m ok. He was never even within arm’s reach; I was safe the whole time,” I tell him, my tone low in hopes of soothing his instinct to fight. I lift a slightly trembling hand to his face, letting the fingertips brush across his cheekbones. The zap of energy that occurs every time we make contact crackles audibly and he closes his eyes. I smile, already having anticipated the phenomenon, and withdraw my hand. “I’m really ok.”

When he opens his eyes, it’s the Wonho I’ve grown accustomed to. The dark mercurial eyes have returned, but he’s ashamed to look my way.

Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’ll be back.”

Changkyun waits until he sees Wonho exit the small space before he turns to me asking, “What’s this?”

His finger points from me to where Wonho had just been and back several times. Standing and stretching, I try my best to seem casual.

“What do you mean?”

“There is clearly something going on between you,” Changkyun states straight-faced. “Lord, I even saw a spark, like hell-o!”

I can feel a blush blooming across my cheeks, even as I shrug. “That spark thing is something that happens just about every time we touch…but it’s nothing. Just some electric charge in the air here or something.”

“Right,” he drawls, lips pursed. Before I have a chance to brace myself, he pokes his index finger at my cheek, then draws it back swiftly, as if he’s touched a hot stove. “Huh,” his tongue pokes at his cheek as he looks down at his finger.

“Changkyun, what the hell?!” I exclaim a bit too loudly.

Wide-eyed, I clamp my hand over my mouth, hunching down a little as I look around.

“I didn’t get zapped,” he states blankly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I shrug while sitting down cross-legged.

I start taking out the food, avoiding Changkyun’s eyes.

“Sparks start flying, but eh…it’s nothing,” he mumbles to himself, head shaking and shoulders shrugging damn near to his ears. “Who does she think I am? Nothing going on my a…”

“I’m back,” Wonho announces, interrupting Changkyun’s rant. “Everything ok?”

I can feel his gaze moving from me to Changkyun, expectantly waiting for a response.

“Yup, alls good,” I pipe up with an awkward smile. “Hungry?”

Changkyun lets out a ‘humph’ then sits down across from me.

“I’m starving, actually,” Wonho confesses once he sees neither of us are going to reply with the truth. “Those sandwiches Richard gives me for dinner aren’t exactly filling.”

I offer him an apologetic smile, saying, “I’m sorry. We did bring a picnic today though.”

Changkyun helps me take the rest of the food out of the basket we brought. He hands Wonho a bowl filled with the Ramen soup, dropping a halved hard-boiled egg into it. I pass a bowl of soup to Changkyun before taking one for myself. A slurping sound has Changkyun and I turning in the same direction.

Wonho senses us staring and looks up, a single noodle wriggles around before sliding up into his mouth. “What?”

We burst into laughter before digging into our own food. Once done I pass around the tea. When Wonho clears his throat, I find it had been nice to have spent a few moments without the fears and worries of all that had been going on, but now it was time to get back to the problem at hand.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier, but I’m ready to talk about your visit to my home,” he tells us meekly.

“There’s not much to tell,” Changkyun answers. “We found the place, but there was no answer when we knocked.”

“Yeah, and that Namjoon guy said he’d been by a few times and no one had been there each time.”

Wonho sighs, frustrated. “I hadn’t counted on all of them being gone at the same time.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Our plan is, if one of us is missing, we go out to look for each other, but leave 2 behind in case the missing one comes back home while the others are out. I just don’t understand…”

“Well, let’s not panic,” I urge him. “We didn’t see anything out of place really.”

“I’m sure I would have sensed if there was some danger going on…” Changkyun muses.

“That’s true,” Wonho allows. “Are you sure you didn’t get any bad vibes while you were there?”

“I’m certain,” he nods.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to go back again. We’re not going to stop trying to get you out.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if you too hadn’t come around,” Wonho smiles wistfully. “It gets pretty lonely and the days become monotonous while trapped in here. I really look forward to your visits.”

My eyes water thinking about him being locked in there every passing moment of every day. Someone who is used to running free with no boundaries, now holed up in such a small space. We have to do all we can to get him out of here.

We spend the next few hours talking and keeping Wonho company.

Part 5| 6| 7

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 6 years

Text

Imagine: Gone Under

7 and 8 from this list.

TRIGGER WARNING: dom!harry, sub!reader, subspace. angst** with fluffy aftercare. um i’ve never written smth like this before, so please be nice. i don’t know what i’m doing :(

(“7. Soft dom!Harry helping y/n calm down after she gets too frustrated when she’s very tired,

8. Y/n slipping away into subspace when guests are over. The guests are trying to talk to her but the only responses they’re getting back are distant looks. So harry has to find a way for them to leave so he can take care of her”)

The one where she’s gone under, and he tries to get her back.

Harry should have listened to her, he reckons, green eyes flashing in worry and concern as his head hangs in guilt at the sight in front of him. He should’ve paid attention to his girlfriend when she mumbled she was too tired to co-host a party, but all he had done was lose his patience and say a string of harsh things he wish he hadn’t.

It started out with y/n coming home in the evening after a long day at university, shoulders slumped and a sigh compressed in her chest, her eyes and throat burning with the empty feeling of needing a good cry, but the tears never came. She placidly slips off her shoes and brings her aching feet out onto the cool tiles of the flat she shared with her boyfriend, sniffling as the weight on her shoulders slowly lessened once she had walked into the flat.

Harry could do that to a girl, and y/n knew this from personal experience. After a couple of hours of him holding her close, back rubs, and snuggles in front of the Netflix streaming T.V., her troubles would be forgotten or seen as easier to handle than before, and the fine lines on her worried forehead would fade into nothing as she fades into sleep. That’s what y/n has been eager to come home to all day.

The day hasn’t been easy on y/n, to say the least. She had left for uni bright eyed, kissing Harry goodbye and refusing to let him drive her, wanting to take the train instead. In her rush to be early, y/n forgets her phone at home. That’s her first mistake.

Afterwards, when she’s finally reached the train station which is a five minute walk from her and Harry’s flat, she reaches into her front and back pockets, trying to find her phone urgently as time ticks away and a weird, unsettled feeling gnaws deep inside her stomach in sickeningly short waves. When y/n realizes that she’s left her phone at home, it takes everything within her to not freak out then and there, because she has a project she’s poured her heart into that she has to present to the class in the afternoon, and nothing can kill her vibes. But, the problem is, she kept her credit card, dollar bills and some identification all inside of her phone case. The only thing she had now was a student I.D. card hung around her neck and dropping at her chest.

When y/n had finally come to the conclusion she had no money on her, she had to run to her university in order to not be late, which sounded very stupid, because why didn’t she just go back to her flat and grab the materials she needed? But, y/n knew she could make it in time if she ran, seeing as the university was a twenty minute drive and the professor teaching her first class that morning was very crabby and harsh when it came to students missing classes or appearing late. Unlike other professors, who genuinely didn’t give a fuck, Prof Adams was something else.

When she finally appears at the university gates, sweating and makeup running down her face slightly, y/n flashes her I.D. to the guards by the entrance, who then let her in. She runs to the class she’s supposed to be in five minutes early, and is finally calming down when she realizes it’s Friday and she has a class with Prof. O’Connor, who was much more flexible with time than Adams. At this point she’s sure she’s about to have a nervous breakdown, but seamlessly jogs to the correct class.

By lunch, y/n’s stomach is growling loudly, but she realizes that one, she doesn’t have a penny on her, and two, the project she had been so excited to present was a group project, and even if she had poured her heart and soul into this project, it was going to be graded based on the work everyone had done. And so, she’d collected everyone’s part into the project and worked over lunch like a mad woman possessed, her head dizzy and stomach growling faintly in hunger, pleading for her to fill it with food.

And once she’s finally finished perfecting everything in the student library, running on cheap caffeine and her own fear of failing, y/n had bolted, running up the the stairs as fast as she could so she could reach her class in time. And, of course, she had to fall down an entire flight of stairs just then. Which wasn’t only painful, but really embarrassing. After that episode, she trots up the stairs, finishes the presentation, and has to walk to their flat in the rain, because all her peers took off before she could ask if she could use their phone to call Harry or hitch a ride.

Drenched and weary, all in all y/n had had a really fucking bad day, and honestly just wanted to sob into Harry’s chest, and maybe watch a rom-com as he fussed over her.

But that’s not what happened.

As y/n heard the familiar patter of Harry’s feet traveling towards her, a faint smile unconsciously tugs at her lips. Even though she feels totally spent, a warm bath with her boyfriend sounds nice.. they could even try one of those bath bombs Harry had fetched for her a few days ago. Sex sounded good, too, y/n agreed internally, her tense muscles relaxing some when she thinks of Harry gently pushing into her in the rippling bath water, holding her by her stomach, snuggled close to his chest.

“Hello, babe,” Harry greets in his raspy voice, snaking his arms around her hips as she leans back into his chest with a pout on her lips that she wishes would make him understand, like he did every other time.

“Hi,” she breathes, letting her eyes close shut as they swayed slightly. He was so warm, and lovely, and him.

“The boys and a few of our friends are coming over in forty five minutes for a little get together,” he informs, nipping kisses into her earlobe and sucking hotly at the warm flesh dangerously edged near her sweet spot, lips puckering around the flesh and latching on. Because of the well planned distraction, y/n spends a few moments sighing as Harry blows warm air onto her sweet spot before licking over the bruised area and cooling the soft skin with cool air.

Suddenly, y/n snaps back to her senses, jumping away from Harry’s warm embrace reluctantly and looking up at him with a feisty, challenging look.

“Oh, no you don’t, Styles!” y/n warns, and at first Harry’s eyebrows jump into his hairline, eyes lightening with amusement at her reaction. His arms reach for her again, but when she pushes him back, he raises his hands defensively above his head.

“Don’t seduce me, you heathen,” y/n all but snaps, pointing a finger to his chest with such a fierce expression sculpting her face that Harry has to laugh, because, God, his girlfriend is adorable.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” She asked, now in a weary voice, because the events of the day really had made it impossible for her to socialize with guests and prepare for their arrival.

“I texted you, and I tried calling. Why didn’t you pick up the phone?” He asks, an irritated edge to his voice and darkening eyes. He could sense his girlfriend’s reluctance over the entire thing.

“That’s besides the point,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as she feels exhaustion sleeping into every crevice of her aching body. She was in dire need for some food and some sleep, having been starving all day she felt hungry to the point of nausea. “You should have told me days ago, Harry. Hell, even last night would have been okay! It’s not easy prepping a get together for so many people.”

Harry’s eyes darkened and his jaw clenched tensely in irritation, him stepping forward slightly and hanging his arms by his sides, shoulder stiff and the vein by his neck standing out proudly.

“It was planned today,” he said through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Besides, it’s not like you have to do anything, I cooked all of the fucking meals, called the people, and cleaned the house, y/n! And it’s just close friends, not a circus. If you only ever picked up the phone, you would have known sooner. We can waste time speaking about this, or actually get some work done.”

Harry then walks further into the kitchen, breathing harshly and breaking eye contact from y/n, so he can keep his cool. y/n walks inside with him and her eyes immediately widen in disbelief, already sweating as she stares at the floor, swept sloppily with remainders of breadcrumbs and things they usually waited till the weekend to thoroughly clean. The counters weren’t wiped properly, and there was absolutely no decorations or even a protective sheet over the dining table or surrounding furniture. The food made y/n lose her own appetite, seeing as just the sight of the items made her silently confirm Harry had added too much salt in the turkey, and had put mayonnaise as a dressing on the salad very poorly. The rest of the items were sloppily made, and the few edible ones were takeout boxes in very small quantity.

“Harry, I can’t do this today,” y/n confesses in a small voice, raising a hand to her cheek and rubbing softly, her own comforting ministrations welcoming sleep. “it’s just too much.. i’m so tired, and I didn’t eat-“

“What did you do today?” Harry suddenly raises his voice, walking over to y/n and towering over her suddenly, his tall figure and intensely infuriated expression causing her breath to hitch slightly.

“Harry, I-“

“No, what the fuck did you do today? You went to a building by train where you sat and listened to some professors talk, and maybe did some work. Then you had lunch, sat in a few more classes and came home, y/n. How is that fucking tiring? It isn’t even exam season, so if you’re going to come up with excuses, try harder,” Harry spat, cornering her unconsciously until she’s flush against the fridge.

“It’s not even like I’m asking you for something that big. Everything’s fine the way it is, y/n. It’s a small gathering! If you weren’t bitching about it so much, we’d have everything prepped by now. Can’t you do something this small for me?” He asks, shaking his head and running a hand through his curls frustratedly. “I don’t know how this relationship is going to work if you can’t learn to sacrifice some of your time, y/n.”

The last sentence is what makes y/n’s chest ache and her head fall down, mind already filling with dark thoughts she tries to usher away of Harry discontinuing their relationship together, because of her behaviour.

“Har, i was jus’ a little tired-“ she says in a small voice, soft and begging him to stay with her as she offers to compromise, but Harry doesn’t let her finish her sentence, his controlled demeanour finally snapping into sharp, shattered pieces that pierced y/n.

“Then leave!”

His voice bellowed off of the walls of their flat, crackling at the ends with a shaking deep undertone. He had reached his breaking point, his hands moving upward with him as he yelled in frustration, causing her to flinch slightly at the volume of Harry’s voice.

“It’s not like I need you here, y/n. If you have such a fuckin’ problem organizing something for my close friends, then leave. I’m not asking you to stay or giving you a special invite. If you’re not willing to help around or support this, then you are free to get out of my flat, understood?” Harry speaks loudly, his voice icy cold and vibrating off the walls and into y/n’s ears. She whimpers, shaking her head as warm tears of betrayal trickle down her soft cheeks and fall to the ground.

“I said, understood?”

Harry raises his voice an octave impossibly higher, his voice thick with a heavy accent and impatient, his fingers red from where y/n had her eyes on them.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles, hearing Harry give out an impatient sigh before muttering to himself, “sometimes I wonder why I keep her around and expect something from her.”

And that’s what has y/n’s mind overflowing with dark thoughts of him abandoning her for someone else, someone who was better and easier to deal with. And as these toxic thoughts invade her, she nods her head, hiding her tearstained face from Harry, so she isn’t bad again, and falls to her knees as soon as he exits the kitchen and heads to the washroom in their bedroom, scrubbing furiously at the gunk on the floors and trying to contain her upset cries.

There are more than just a few small groups of people Harry was close with. Unconsciously, he had invited too many people, but that was probably because he found it easy to grow attached to anyone with good qualities within them.

Harry flickered his eyes across the flat. There was certainly an improvement on its aesthetic since before. The flat was decorated elegantly, but delicately, and it looked like everything had been groomed to perfection, even the tiles had a certain sheen to them. Everyone had even commented on the beauty of the flat and how great the food was, causing Harry to grin with pride, content that his house get together had gone fairly well.

“Hey, Harry!” Jeff called out, “great food, mate!” And the group of people encircling the man hooted and mumbled in agreement, causing Harry to chuckle and smile brightly in return.

“Thanks! m’girlfriend got everything together, otherwise I’d be a mess.”

“Oh. Well, thanks the missus for us,” Jeff yelled back from across the room, Harry nodding with a small smile.

His girlfriend.

Harry’s eyes had been searching for y/n’s the entire night, but had came back empty, getting lost in the sea of people crowding their flat. He recalled the words he had said to her and just how he’d said them to her quite sharply, and Harry could confirm he was the biggest prick to ever descend upon the earth. He tries not to remember her face when she had seen him snap, frightened and uncomfortable. Not to mention, his angel had taken it upon herself to work herself as hard as she could within the time they had left to clean parts of the flat that would need cleaning, and cook enough and more for everyone, with Harry left grumbling while gelling his hair back in the washroom.

Pushing past close friends and mutual friends, Harry’s eyes land upon two ladies y/n was friend with, chatting and laughing while they drank wine. He quickly walks towards them, hands sweating and chest burning with hope that they would know where y/n was, and if his angel was okay or not. He needed to apologize for being such a dick and make it up to her.

“Hey, Kasey,” he greeted the tall ginger first, then nodding his head politely at the dark skinned, raven haired woman next to her, “Audrey.”

“Hi, Harry,” they chimed back, asking him how he was and a few more polite questions, which he nods at impatiently, muttering a “great” before asking them the real question.

“I’m sorry, but would you happen to know where y/n is? Haven’t been able to catch her this entire time. ‘s pretty crowded,” Harry explains, watching their faces brighten up.

“Oh, yeah! Last time we saw her, she was over there,” Audrey points over to the left far corner and Harry nods appreciatively, kissing both of their cheeks before leaving to find y/n.

After a few moments, he marches to the area they had pointed, looking around and forcing a smile onto his face to greet guests, while still trying to find his girl. Finally, Harry’s tightened chest relaxes some when he spots the outline of her figure and the precise shade of her hair. With his eyes, squinting slightly in concentration, he tries to appear casual as he speed walks to where she was talking to Ben Winston.

“Hello,” he greets Ben, the man happily chatting with both Harry and y/n now, although Harry’s eyes were trained upon his girlfriend and how she was sort of slouched over, eyes glazed and head hung. The smile she was trying to etch onto her tired face fading, as Harry took the wheel.

As Ben begins to talk as more guests surround them, of an incident involving Ruby wandering around in a plane and stealing the passengers’ blankets while they were unconscious, Harry focuses on his girlfriend, slinging an arm around her waist loosely and feeling her hide behind him slightly, letting out breaths of air unevenly and snuffling some while clutching onto Harry’s arm like a lifeline, clinging to her boyfriend. After rubbing her back lightly for some time, Harry excuses himself and laced his fingers with hers.

“We’ll be right back,” he promises the small group of people playfully teasing the couple over abandoning them.

With their hands entertained, Harry leads the two of them into a washroom nearby and y/n follows along behind him obediently, head down and eyes wide and dazed. Shutting the door behind him, Harry flicks on the switch of the washroom and light floods the room.

“Wha’s this about, hm?” He asks softly, sitting on the toilet seat and pulling her down, so her bottom and thighs are situated on his lap comfortably, his arms holding her waist and his nose rubbing against her neck as an apology. He presses light kisses to her collarbone as she sniffles some more.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry questions, heart already dropping as he brings the girl impossibly closer to him in attempts to hold her and cuddle the pain he’d caused her away.

“N-no. Of course not,” she stutters quickly. “I was jus’ in the back, didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your guests. You didnt want me there, and i was gonna leave- swear I was, but then Ben came and we started talking,” she answers in a rush. Harry’s lips turn downwards in a deep frown, confused and hurt at the words coming out of the sweet girl’s mouth.

“What d’ya mean, baby? When did I tell you I didn’t want you there? Couldn’t have said that,” he’s genuinely confused why she would ever think he’d want her to leave. He’d probably made her feel that way, the mere thought making his chest ache.

“Yes, you did,” she mumbles, soft but honest. “Y-you said I could just leave if I didn’t support you.”

Harry’s frown deepens and he holds her a little tighter, eyeing how strange she’s acting.

“I’m so sorry, didn’t mean that, sweetheart,” he confirms, kissing the corner of her mouth gently, and he decides he’ll apologize further after he gets her to admit what’s bothering her so much. “you good?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes are all glazed and out of it when they meet his. At the question, she nods quickly.

“yes, I think so..” she trails off, lips pouting and face clinging onto his chest slightly, her fingers tracing across his forearm hesitantly. Then she peers up at him with wide, desperate eyes. “‘m your good girl still, right, daddy?”

That’s when Harry stiffens, holding a curious, dazed y/n on his lap, her slipping deeper under. That’s when he knows she’s fallen into subspace. He merely swallows doen his general surprise and gives the wide eyed girl on his lap a quick nod.

“Daddy’s good girl. ‘m best girl,” he confirms, watching as her cheeks deepen into a happy blush, her clinging into his soft t-shirt and the moving of her lips indicating speech.

“If ‘m your best girl, that means I don’t have to go forever, right, daddy?”

The words are muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but they still sting.

“What? When did I say you had to go forever? Don’t remember saying that,” his voice is firm, but his insides are turning in disgust, if something like that had actually slipped from his lips.

“Yes, you did,” she argues, earning a soft tut from him, causing her to melt into his lap again, lips jutting forward in a pout he doesn’t bother to tell her to put away, because he needs to know. “Y’said ‘sometimes I wonder why I keep her around’, and ‘If you’re not willing to help around or support this, then you are free to get out of my flat,” y/n imitates him in a small voice, and Harry feels like shit to say the least.

The reason being he’d become so mad and irrational over the entire disagreement that he’d caused y/n to believe that he truly didn’t want her there, and was threatening to end their relationship over something this small. Harry had never, and would never, purposefully cause this wave of impending abandonment to wash over his sweet girlfriend.

“come here, babygirl,” he instructs, voice raspy and calm, but still edged to dominant demand. She skootches in his lap, impossibly closer to him and her bum softly moving along Harry’s thick thighs, his hand holding her by the hip firmly. After reaching a comfortable position, she rests her head onto his warm chest, eyes droopy and body desperate to touch his in every way possible.

“Open up,” Harry instructs in a raspy, yet firm voice, tapping on her wet mouth with two fingers. She opens up obediently, staring up at him with slightly wet eyes as she blinkingly opens her mouth wide enough for Harry to push his rough, long fingers into her warm mouth. She suckled on them softly, whimpering a little as the metallic tang that came with his ring clad fingers hit her soft tongue.

“Didn’t mean for you to leave forever, yeah?” He begins, voice raspy and quiet, but injected with importance. “daddy was angry, button. he was so angry he said things he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t want his sweet girl to leave, yeah? only ever gave her the option, that, too, when he was really mad. ‘s not baby’s fault, okay? daddy was jus’ bein’ a fuckin’ meanie.”

After this explanation, y/n nods understandingly against his chest, arms wrapping around his hips tighter, him half swaddling her like a baby.

“Y’understand?” He asks, making sure to her her to vocally agree. Harry slips his fingers out of her mouth, and can’t help but groan slightly as she unlatched with a soft noise, his fingers wet.

“mhm. daddy was being a meanie. i didn’t do anything wrong,” she answers in a soft, but believing voice, unwavering, and Harry nods quick and in confirmation.

“Need t’tell daddy when he’s being bad, yeah? Could have run you a bath sooner, if you had told me how you were feeling. Would’ve sent them all home.”

At this, y/n’s head tilts to the side interestedly. “A bath?” she asks, mumbling in loss when Harry nods a ‘yes’.

“Wanna bath please, daddy,” she requests politely, in a soft voice that was much calmer than before. Harry smirks.

“C’mon then, princess,” he starts in a deep, guttural voice, first leaning his head downwards and pushing his lips against her plushy, soft ones, moving them warmly against hers before softly sucking and nipping st her bottom lip. By the time he’s done, she’s warm in the cheeks and even more dizzy. Still smirking, he pulls back from the teasing kiss and tuts when he hears her whine.

“Strip fo’ daddy, jus’ have to take care of a few things first,” he demands, “by the time i’m back, you better be naked. no clothes.”

She nods, gulping, but sighing happily as he grabs a few fluffy towels and some bath bombs they wanted to try since earlier before.

Harry slips out of the washroom and tells all of the guests it was getting late, apologizing and mentioning y/n’s university classes, to which they all nod understandingly. Afterwards, he locks the door and slips back into the washroom, watching y/n strip.

Walking behind her and placing a warm hand on her soft, exposed tummy, he thumbs at her hips before instructing her to sit on the toilet seat, while he runs the bath. After throwing in some bubbling soap and a few baby pink and lilac bath bombs, they’re both inside of the tub, and it’s quiet. Harry’s washing y/n gently as thewarm water glides over her body as he carefully washes her breasts and moves lower down to her stomach and thighs. She leans back against his chest, sighing, whimpering and closing her eyes in satisfaction. He’s careful to wash a few bruises on her hips, frowning (“these weren’t here last night,”).

It’s soft and slow, and she trusts the man holding her completely. She’s giggling slightly as his wet curls tickle her neck, before it transitions into a soft moan when he moves his wet hand down the slopes of her body, pushing a finger into her, filling her and caressing her slick walls. y/n writhes under his hold, breathing heavily as he pushes the rough, long finger inside of her before pulling out slightly and pushing back even deeper inside with his middle and fore finger. The sound of her wetness and Harry’s encouraging words (“come on, baby. cum.”) acting as a seranade as she lets out a long, soft moan as her walls clench around his fingers and she slumped against his chest, him continuing to wash her gently and mumble soothing words into her ears.

After getting her wrapped up in warm, heated towels and a fluffy bathrobe, and making sure to get some warm food and water into her, he changes her into a fresh pair of panties and one of his sweatshirts. She’s mumbling incoherent things, clinging to him as he slips her legs through the her underwear and carries her to their bedroom, making sure to tuck her in the bed, place her head on the pillow in just the right place, then quickly spoon her to sleep, rubbing circles into her hips and brushing his warm, chapped lips to her neck.

as she’s floating into blissful unconsciousness, with strong, warm arms holding her against his chest, she’s damn sure her Harry will always be there to take care of her.

The one where she’s floating, but he knows how to take care of her.

I’ve never written something like this before, so it’s rlly bad then soz lmao. idek what the whole smut thing was i hope i don’t go to hell. please read this. byee

MASTERLIST| Requests are open!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines tfln #harry styles imagines #harry styles preferences #one direction imagines #larry #one direction #one direction preferences

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wildroseofarran · 5 years

Text

Right and Good, Cont. || Captain Issott, Oliver, Pete, Kelly, & Quintane

Leslie: It had been a busy afternoon, just as Tristan had predicted. He never expected as much as they received. The town was much bigger than it had been just five years ago. Perhaps it was merely his perception. Tiadora, Myrtle's niece, had become his second pair of hands since last summer. Eventually, he figured, this would all be hers. He didn't know how she felt about it; he didn't know how he felt about it. For her the truck was income and nothing more.

They'd made back the cost of the halibut and then some. The day had been successful. The pair were shooed away. So, he would be walking to Pete's Pub.

Tristan: For his part, Tristan had gone home and treated himself to a long hot shower, making sure to scrub every last trace of fish smell from his skin and hair. He was going to be sharing a bed with Leslie, and platonic or not, he couldn't go into it stinking to high heaven.

When it was around time for dinner and a beer, he shot his friend a text.

{Text to Les} Am I still picking you up?

Leslie: {Text to Tristie} I'm walking to the pub now!

Tristan: {Text} Not too late for me to pick you up

Leslie: {Text} I'm on the main road if you want to

Tristan: {Text} Be there soon

{Text} Don't let any strangers lure you into their vans with candy

He pulled out of his drive and headed a back street that would lead to the food truck. He'd grab the main road (and Les) from there.

Leslie: {Text} That's your job. I want peanut butter

There he was, in cargo jeans and his favorite blue flannel shirt. Never mind the autumn chill. He never remembered a jacket until mid-winter.

Tristan: Tristan shook his head as he pulled up a little ahead of Leslie. He'd be freezing later.

"You're the only person I know who doesn't wear a jacket the moment the temperature drops below seventy," he called through the open window.

Leslie: "You're going to blame that on England, aren't you?" He took a moment just for the stillness, resting his arms on the truck window.

Tristan: "Absolutely," he said with a grin. "Got that thick European blood in you."

Leslie: "How many times must I tell you that I'm more American than British?"

Tristan: "About two more times should do it."

Leslie: Leslie rolled his eyes and climbed inside. "I'll save them." Because I like arguing with you.

Tristan: "Something to look forward to," he chuckled, pulling back onto the road.

"I'm fucking starving. Don't know what it is about today. Oliver still coming with us?"

Leslie: "I haven't heard shit." He reached into the glove compartment for a granola. It was there and he might as well. He might as well check his blood sugar, too.

"I need to get back - fuck. I need to get to the Jeep."

Tristan: No other words were necessary. He made a U-turn as soon as he could and headed toward the road that led to the docks.

"Your meter in the Jeep?"

Leslie: "Yeah." But it was time for something else in his stomach. He knew the routine enough to start in on one of those granolas.

Tristan: Then he would drive just a tiny bit faster than normal. "Would you call me a Mother Hen if I suggested you keep an extra one in here?"

Leslie: Which earned a sigh. "I was just thinking that. Was just thinking that I should have brought it with me to begin with."

Tristan: "We'll go to the drug store one of these days and you can get the one you like." Hell, maybe they'd get one for the ship, too.

Leslie: "Don't baby me, Tristie. I have three mothers. I don't need four," he smiled.

Tristan: He opened his mouth to say something and immediately closed it, shaking his head. "Nope, not gonna go there," he chuckled.

Leslie: "What?"

Tristan: "Nothing. Nothing at all." He pulled into the parking lot and looked around for Leslie's Jeep.

Leslie: No. Belt off. He inched over. "What?"

Tristan: "Nothing, Leslie." Ah, there it was.

He pulled into the space beside it. "Go get your meter."

Leslie: "Were you gonna say...you're my daddy?"

Tristan: "I said we're not gonna go there." He gave Les that half smile/half squint look he usually gave when he didn't intend to dwell on a subject. "Meter. Go."

Leslie: Sigh. "Yes, daddy." Then he'd get out of the truck. "Want me to just drive myself?"

Tristan: “And deprive myself of your company? Never.”

He took the opportunity to reach out to Oliver.

{Text to Cole} You coming to Pete’s?

Leslie/Oliver: While Leslie gathered his glucometer, Oliver was frowning at his phone. Shit. He'd forgotten that.

He wolfed down his cheap fast food and chugged his soda.

{Text} Yep. Starving.

Tristan: {Text} Cool

{Text} Want/need a ride?

Leslie/Oliver: {Text} Nah I'll be there in ten.

Leslie climbed back into the passenger seat with a small black bag.

Tristan: {Text} See you there

“Oliver’s meeting us there,” he said as Leslie returned. “All set?”

Leslie: "Mhm." He would check himself during the ride. A glance was given to his driver. "This doesn't bother you, does it?"

Tristan: “I handle guts and blood every day, darlin’. Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

Leslie: "Has anyone ever -" he shouldn't ask that. "Never mind."

Tristan: Now it was Tristan’s turn to ask, “What?”

Leslie: "Uh-uh."

Tristan: He chuckled. “Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?”

Leslie: "Mmhmm," he grinned.

Tristan: “Guess I deserve that.”

And back on the main road they went.

Leslie: His blood sugar was just below his average, but within a healthy range just the same. He fiddled with his kit.

"Has anyone ever been pissed at you for the nicknames you give?" Might as well.

Tristan: “Oh, um...maybe in school. Called Mitchell ‘Buttface’ for a while after he pushed me into a puddle. Does it bother you that I...?”

Leslie: He chuckled, "That is not at all what I mean." No, he shook his head. "Doesn't bother me one bit. But...was just curious."

Tristan: He didn’t know why that relieved him. “I blame mama. She comes up with nicknames for her students that she uses when she’s telling me stuff that happened in her classes.”

Leslie: "What about flirting?"

Tristan: “You mean, has it ever bothered someone that I give them a flirtatious nickname?”

Leslie: "Yes. That's my real question."

Tristan: He thought for a moment. “Not that I know of. Granted, I haven’t had much call for that the past decade.”

Leslie: How much was he allowed to say? It wasn't any of his business. He had a theory, but it was too forward to just say.

"Well, today might be your lucky day. Maybe Oliver will come out and get down on battered knee for you."

Tristan: Tristan chuckled. “There’s a better chance of the sun floating down and boiling the ocean. My luck is limited to nonexistent.”

Leslie: "I think your luck can change."

Tristan: “Yeah?” He smiled over at Leslie. “I am coming over to your place for a sleepover. Unless you don’t want me anymore.”

Leslie: "You didn't hear me say it. Don't put it in your head."

Tristan: “In that case just give me a date and time and I’ll be there.”

Leslie: "Tonight, you fool."

Tristan: “Then I’ll be there,” he said with a smile.

Leslie: "Do you want me?" He didn't want to be coy and possibly misunderstood with something so important.

Tristan: “You know I do. But I don’t want wanting you to ruin our friendship.”

Leslie: "Even if we did do something, Tristie, that's never gonna happen. My friendships aren't so easily broken."

Tristan: He heaved a long sigh. “So it’s just my gray cloud of doom and loneliness projecting?”

Leslie: "Don't let whomever did that to you win."

Tristan: “That’s a long list of whomevers.”

They’d arrived at the pub. He took a parking spot across the street but made no move to get out of the truck.

Leslie: "How long of a list?" Neither would Leslie.

Tristan: “Embarrassingly long.”

Leslie: "I've only heard one name...from other people."

Tristan: He nodded. “Not surprised. That’s...the tip of the iceberg.”

Leslie: "I don't get it."

Tristan: “Which part?”

Leslie: "You're nothing to sniff at. The way you talk, it's like they all spat on you."

Tristan: “I think it would’ve been easier if they had. Some did, but not all of them. A lot of the time it’s as simple as not calling after a date, other times it’s a lot deeper than that.”

Leslie: "You want a serious relationship with someone, or just a warm body?"

Tristan: “I don’t even know anymore,” he sighed. “Right now, the thought of spending time with you, in any capacity, is making me feel right and good. What about you?”

Leslie: "I want you to feel right and good," he smiled. "I haven't thought beyond two feet of that."

Tristan: He smiled back. “Then we’re in the same boat.” He spotted Oliver’s truck coming down the road. “There’s Cole. We should head in.”

Leslie: "Right." His kit was placed in the glove compartment and locked. Not that anyone would be stealing that, but still.

It had been a good two months if not more since he'd stepped into Pete's. Hands down, the owner was stunning to look at. A reason to keep popping back in, if not for the vibe he exuded. There was the kind of pain Tristan endured, and then there were auras like which surrounded Peter Graham. He was off limits. He couldn't bless everyone in town. He didn't want to. That beautiful barkeep would be under his protection if he got to know him, and his dance card was full.

He was not one for the corner of a room, though he wouldn't have minded a window seat. The place was packed. Something close to the stage would have to do.

Tristan: Packed, loud, and busy as all hell, but Pete Graham was grinning and making delighted conversation with everyone. The man was practically glowing; it was almost as if he'd switched bodies with June.

Tristan caught his eye and waved, laughing at the reaction he got in return. "He's in fine form tonight. Wonder if he won the lottery."

He took his seat and settled in.

Leslie: Did my luck rub off on someone else? Maybe. It wouldn't have been the first time.

He took the most crowd-forward seat of the table. Waved Oliver over as he caught eye of his towering figure. Towering, as though he himself wasn't an inch taller. Oliver's presence demanded people to get the fuck out of his way; it was a different kind of height from his own.

He began to scan the room for any new faces. In five years, he only recognized a quarter of the townsfolk by heart.

Tristan: Tonight there was a smattering of autumn tourists mixed in with a much bigger crowd of locals, typical for this time of year. And as usual, even though the tourists were outnumbered they were somehow far louder than anyone else.

"Hey, Cole," Tristan greeted. "You take Mitchell and Bonnie for as much as possible?"

Oliver: "Ain't she still married?" Oliver greeted, taking the middle seat.

Tristan: "Not what I meant but I actually don't know. Didn't she just divorce the last one? I feel like that's why she got her tits done."

Oliver: "No idea, but we got cash and I got a number I didn't want."

Tristan/Pete: "Good, on both counts. Let her suck the soul out of some other schmuck. Fuckers get younger every year."

"That's 'cause she thinks she's Dolly Parton," came Pete's voice as he approached their table, delirious grin not the least bit dimmed. "Hey, ya'll."

Leslie: "Wow. I don't think in five years I've ever seen you so happy." Except when that biker was around, but Leslie wasn't about to tap that nest of hornets.

Tristan/Pete: "I'm over the goddamn moon. Gonna be an uncle again. My sister's having another baby."

Tristan smiled. "Stella's pregnant? That's great!"

"I know! Feels like we've been starved for good news around here and we finally got some."

Leslie/Oliver: "Blessings to that," the witch smiled.

"Yeah, congrats," Oliver managed a smile of his own.

Tristan/Pete: "Thanks. In celebration, first round of whatever ya'll are having is on me."

"Does that include shrimp and grits?" Tristan asked hopefully.

"It does not but I'll bring you some anyway. Packed to the damn rafters in here and Rita has a cold so I'm a waitress short and the new guy is still getting the hang of things behind the bar so I'm playing waiter."

Leslie: "I'll go get the drinks." Leslie got to his feet. "I'm only good for one round anyway."

Pete: "Am I getting you shrimp and grits too? Cole?"

Leslie/Oliver: "Yeah."

"Yeah," Oliver echoed. "And two shots of bourbon, Les."

Tristan/Pete: "All right, coming right up."

As Pete disappeared through the crowd, Tristan finally noticed the new face behind the bar. Tall, and a stark contrast to Pete's mood tonight. The new guy had a definite broody aura about him.

"Guess with Stella expecting he hired a new bartender to fill in," he mused. "I don't recognize him, do you?"

Leslie/Oliver: Oliver watched Leslie weave through the crowd and reach the brooding figure. Familiar face. Unmistakable scar. He couldn't peg from where. Wait...

"I think that...O'Charlie’s? Or The Brig. Maybe he works at all of em. I dunno."

Leslie's smile was a cautious one as he greeted the new face with his order.

Tristan/Kelly: "An actual newcomer? Been a while since we had one of those. I still feel like Les just barely moved here. Hell, I still feel like you barely moved here."

Said scarred, brooding figure met Leslie's smile with a polite nod. "I'll get the beers and send the shots here in a bit," he said once the order had been placed. He spoke with a distinct rasp and a distinct lack of a Southern accent. His almost vaguely sounded French. Definitely a newcomer.

Leslie/Oliver: "The fuck did ya do before us?" His smile became more genuine, more relaxed. He didn't do well in crowds, which was why he usually stuck to O'Charlie’s.

Now that was a voice for radio. Say more things. "Where are you from? If you don't mind my asking."

Tristan/Kelly: "I don't even remember," he chuckled. "My life must've been awfully dull without the two of you to spice things up. And my crew wasn't nearly as good without ya'll, that I do remember."

It was a question Kelly had become used to answering the past few years, so it came as no surprise. "Up North. Near the French-Canadian border."

Leslie/Oliver: "He's not even a fisherman." You hired him for his looks. I know it. "Ya need t'bring back Murphy."

"Oh, so...Maine?" Leslie wasn't going anywhere. Not after the drinks had been poured. Arms crossed on the counter, making himself at home.

Tristan/Kelly: "Not by trade but he does good work." Speaking of, where was he?

"Talked to him last week, told him the door's wide open when he wanted to come back. Apparently his wife's not doing too well."

Kelly nodded. "Yep. Maine." As long as the guy was staying, might as well go ahead and pour those shots.

Leslie/Oliver: "He ain't helpin' her sittin' by her bed," Oliver scoffed.

"When did you get here? A new face is always welcome." This had a few more moments before gathering as much insight as he'd need for the rest of the night.

Tristan/Kelly: "It's not that, he's been driving her to chemo. She's got the big C. Once their daughter comes back, he'll come back to work. Those hospital bills can't be cheap."

Since it looked like the man questioning him would be carrying all this to his table himself, Kelly put it all on a tray for him. Once of the girls could get it later.

"Last week." More monosyllabic answers, but still polite.

Leslie/Oliver: "That fuckin' car is gonna take half his income." An ancient gas guzzler with shot breaks he wouldn't let anyone touch. Not his problem.

"Wow. That new. Have you gotten acquainted with the area?" Leslie offered a charming yet subdued smile.

Tristan/Kelly: "I'm amazed it gets them to the hospital in one piece. Just waiting for the day someone finds him stranded on the side of the road. The hell's taking Les so long?"

He looked around for Leslie again and spotted him at the bar. "Les!" he called. "We're dying of thirst over here!"

Kelly glanced over at the table, having heard the other man's call clearly above the din.

"Not yet," he said, nodding toward the man's friends. "You're summoned."

Leslie: Leslie glanced back. He heard that? He turned back around, wanting to catch eyes with the stranger one last time before taking the tray.

"So I am," he smiled. That would be it for now. Back to the table he went.

Tristan/Kelly: The stranger only looked up long enough to give him one more nod, then it was back to pulling beers and being invisible.

"There you are," Tristan said as Leslie returned. "Is the bar that slammed?"

Leslie: "I figured I'd get everything. Why wait for a waitress? Pete's busy enough."

Tristan: "Looks like. We came just in time, more people are coming in. How's the new bartender?"

Leslie: He bit back a smile and shrugged. Oh, no way in particular. "Quiet. That city-type kind of quiet."

Tristan: "City boy around here? I give him a month."

Leslie: "Hey. I made it," he laughed.

Tristan: "You're the exception, not the rule." He chuckled as he took a sip. "Ya'll remember Bash Gaia's girlfriend? She ran screaming after two weeks."

Leslie/Oliver: "I don't even remember her." A statement from Leslie which caught Oliver off guard, making him laugh.

Tristan/Pete: Tristan laughed. "Girl ran out of here like the goddamn roadrunner. Didn't even leave a cloud of smoke in her wake."

"Shrimp and grits!" Pete interrupted just long enough to put a plate in front of each of them. "Ya'll good? Need anything?"

Leslie: "Hey." Leslie dropped his beer and vaguely pointed in the bartender's direction. "Where did you catch that one?"

Pete: Pete glanced back at the bar. "Who, Kelly? He just showed up the day after I posted the want ad. Works down at O'Charlie's too."

Leslie/Oliver: "That's where I fuckin' saw him," Oliver snapped his fingers.

"Well, that solves that mystery." Curious, he thought, locking eyes with Pete. Both of you are curious. "Thanks."

Thank you for the sacrifice made for this meal. Blessed be. He didn't know why he still gave the blessing a thought, and still in his mother's voice.

Pete: Pete nodded. "He got the gig with Charlie first but Charlie's already got Dwight full time so he could only offer him a part time. That's why he came here. Making up the difference."

He didn't turn from Leslie's gaze, only giving him a smile and a nod before heading back to the bar.

Leslie/Oliver: "Ya know, ya should get some bouncers in here," Oliver called to Pete's back.

"I think Pete is the bouncer," said between bites of shrimp.

Tristan: "I think so, too. He's got a strong right hook." He used his fork to point at the table of what appeared to be frat boys. "Maybe we'll get to see it today."

Leslie: "How has he not been sued?" asked Leslie, wiping his mouth.

Tristan: "He never throws the first punch."

Leslie: "I get the feeling one of us is going to make a sacrifice play tonight."

Tristan: "Nah, those boys will get themselves thrown out in no time. They're drinking like it's the end of the world."

Leslie: "That's what concerns me."

Tristan: "Pete can handle it. He's got the new guy back there now." Or hell, maybe Pete had mellowed. It had been a long, long time since he'd heard of someone getting decked.

Leslie: "Country folk are supposed to be the better fighters. Is that it?"

Tristan: "Not always, we're usually just sturdier." Another point with his fork. "That one looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over."

Leslie/Oliver: "One more beer and it will."

Oliver didn't bother to glance up. He knew their type. One looked like he was on leave.

Tristan: "Maybe he'll just pass out quietly. Fuck this is good. God love Bobby." Pete's cook made the best shrimp and grits he'd ever had.

Leslie: Leslie suddenly sat up with a start, feeling in his lower pocket for his vibrating phone. One look at the screen and he was on his feet.

"Excuse me." He made a rush to the door with the phone to his ear.

Tristan: "All right," said Tristan, frowning as Leslie hurried off. "Wonder what that was about."

Oliver: "Probably what's-her-name."

Tristan: "Who? Myrtle?"

Oliver: "Yeah. That one."

Tristan: "Hope nothing's wrong. She seemed okay earlier."

Oliver: "Does he even have family back in Charlotte?"

Tristan: "I think so, yeah. Doesn't talk about it much."

Oliver: "Does anyone have an actual happy childhood?"

Tristan: "I had one. Unconventional maybe but it was good."

Oliver: "Seems 'normal' is more my shit."

Tristan: "Normal means something different to everyone."

Oliver: "I mean like statistically normal. No one's got stat norm."

Tristan: "Ah. Mom, dad, 2.5 kids, and a minivan?"

Oliver: "Mhm." His bowl was pushed aside. Fuck, he wanted a cigarette. "Ain't no one got that."

Tristan: "Some people do. Pete's sister for example. And they had it when they were kids. Emmanuel Gaia's family. June's."

Oliver: "How's that workin' out for em now?"

Tristan: “Pretty good in every case. Emmanuel’s had his own troubles but his little girl still has loads of family around.”

Leslie/Oliver: "Heard some shit about Pete's."

Leslie returned through the foyer with pocketed phone. He wanted the clamor of naïve tourists. He wanted music. He wanted to move. There was calmness in the vibration. He hoped Callum was playing tonight.

With the bartender's back turned, Leslie slipped into a stool in front of him. Did you hear that, too?

Tristan/Kelly: "Oh yeah," Tristan nodded as he sipped his beer. "Nearly forgot about that. At least all that went down when he and his siblings were grown. That would've been a lot for kids to handle."

There was no Callum tonight--something Tristan would be thankful for later--but there were instruments on the stage so someone would be coming along at some point.

And until music filled the pub, Kelly could still hear everything. Laughter, conversations, and the slide of denim against leather as someone sat. He didn't have to turn around to see who it was.

Nor would he acknowledge the presence until he did turn. "Another round?"

Leslie: Hmm. This changes nothing. I'm still onto you.

Another smile, warm and patient. "I think so, yeah. Just two Red Stripe." If he knew Oliver and Tristan, those glasses were empty by now.

Kelly: Kelly gave a single nod and got two more glasses.

He wasn't being cold, per se. Just cautious. Guarded. This was still a new place and it was largely unfamiliar; he had to have his wits about him.

Leslie: "You must really love beer."

Kelly: "What makes you say that?"

Leslie: "Because you work in two bars."

Kelly: "Man's gotta eat."

Leslie: "Does said man like to drink?"

Kelly: "Sometimes."

Leslie: "And this said man, is he here with someone special?"

Kelly: "Maybe."

Leslie: "They're just a maybe?"

Kelly: "Yep."

Leslie: Those glasses were plenty full. He was obviously stalling.

"I see. Good luck with the maybe."

Kelly: "Thanks."

Luckily for Leslie, the band was finally on the stage to save him from more monosyllabic answers from the pub's newest bartender.

Leslie/Oliver: Music? Oh right. What he had wanted. And there Oliver was, staring at him and the two drinks he'd been holding.

The man wasn't interested in him. Standoffish and shy he could understand, he was best friends with Oliver, but when a man saw something he wanted, he watched it. He studied it. Still, there was something he couldn't put his finger on. For now he would have to just let it go.

Without another word, he turned back towards the stage and headed back to his seat.

"I think Leslie's tryin' for someone else now. You're off the hook."

Tristan: Tristan's brow furrowed. "What? Who?" He turned around and spotted Les coming back from the bar with their next round.

Oliver wouldn't get a chance to answer before Tristan asked, "Hey, is everything okay?"

Leslie: "What?" The glasses were passed around. "Yeah. Why?"

Tristan: "Your phone call."

Leslie/Oliver: "That was my mother."

So back on the previous subject. "So you a white picket fence family or fucked up family life?"

His brow wrinkled and a confused laugh followed. "What?"

Tristan: "We were talking about normal families and not so normal families. And it's ironic you say that." He grinned. "I had a white picket fence and a nontraditional family."

Leslie/Oliver: "You're just an enigma with long hair," Oliver scoffed.

Leslie cleared his throat. "I uh, I grew up with a wrought iron and brick gate and both parents are perfectly fine."

Tristan: "Pffft, what enigma? You've seen my mama's fence." Literal white pickets surrounding a bohemian wonderland.

He smiled at Leslie, seeming more subdued than he had a few minutes ago. "You turned out just fine. We all did."

Leslie: "We're all just perfectly fine," he laughed. "I think you turned out the most normal," he nodded to Tristan.

Tristan: "Bet my mama would be happy to hear that. One of ya'll tell her."

Leslie: "I'll pocket it for something special." This time, he was going to ignore the vibration in his pocket.

Tristan: "For Thanksgiving maybe. Which you're both invited to, by the way."

Leslie/Oliver: "We'll see." He was distracted by the band. People he couldn't recall having seen before.

"I'm gonna take a smoke break." Oliver got to his feet.

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "Enjoy."

Leslie wouldn't have seen these people before. Pete was trying out a new group this week: a bluegrass trio from Kentucky. Emphasis on the try out. If the crowd liked them, they'd more than likely be invited back.

Leslie: "You okay?" Not wanting to yell over the music, he'd taken to leaning closer to better be heard.

Tristan: "Yeah, I'm good," said Tristan, really making an effort to make his smile appear normal and relaxed. "You don't want another drink? A non-alcoholic one I mean."

Leslie: "I'll just get some water, eventually." He glanced towards the bartender. Not a vampire, that was for damn sure. Would he have heard that? "I'm fine. We're about you right now," he smiled.

Tristan: The glance was noticed, and though he couldn't say for certain who it was directed at, he had a pretty good idea. Oh, and there was the unpleasant little waterfall of despair rushing through his body. Right on cue.

"Yeah?" Just keep smiling. We know how this dance goes. "Should I entice you with the thought of Meg's Thanksgiving dinner? You can bring Myrtle."

Leslie: "I think Mama's gonna be seeing her own family this year. I should go to Charlotte. That's a five hour drive. Would y'all have me the next day?"

Tristan: "You know you're welcome any time you want. You and Cole have a standing invitation for all major holidays and all meals."

Leslie: "Your mother has more sons than she'd ever hoped for."

Tristan: "Just like you have more mamas than you ever expected," he chuckled. "She loves having a full house."

Leslie: "I love having mothers to care for."

Tristan: "I bet they like looking after you just as much. Myrtle adores you."

Leslie: "She just wants someone to yell at." Elbows to the table, both hands pressed to his temples. "I love country as much as the next Carolinian, but I gotta get out of here. I can't do whatever that is."

Tristan/Kelly/Pete: "I think it's intended to be blues?" Tristan grimaced at whatever was happening on stage. Leslie had a point; it wasn't good. And they weren't the only ones who noticed.

Behind the bar, Kelly was catching his new boss' eye and shaking his head. He could feel the crowd turning sour. 'Nope,' he mouthed.

Pete nodded and caught the band leader's eye, shaking his own head.

"Oop, Pete just gave the signal. He's saving us all."

Leslie: Thank whatever god or goddess just saved their hearing. He was back to smiling. "Want to go to The Brig? Or are you afraid to be seen dancing with me?"

Tristan: He laughed and shook his head. "You know I'm the world's worst dancer right? And that I avoid it like the plague?"

Leslie: "Going to avoid me like the plague?"

Tristan: "Never," he said softly, smiling around another sip of beer.

Leslie: Then that was it. He was pulling out his wallet and asking for a check from the nearest waitress. He knew Oliver would rather stick a pencil in his eye than watch what was about to happen, so this was going to be where they parted ways.

Tristan: Per Pete's instructions, they hadn't been charged for the first round of drinks, just the second round and the food.

And of course, Tristan would make his usual grab for the check when it was brought to them.

Leslie: "Hey." His card was immediately given. "You know I'm going to get this. I told you I was."

Tristan: "Force of habit," he said, chuckling. "I got the next time."

Leslie: "Gotta be fast." He never did get that water. "I'm driving, by the way."

Tristan: “That I won’t fight you on. Should probably drink some water.”

Leslie/Oliver: "We both will at The Brig."

Oliver had returned, hovering over his seat as he looked between them.

"I think m'gonna get outta here."

"Same."

Tristan: “We’re headed to the Brig. Want a lift to wherever you’re going?”

Oliver: "What? M'gonna drive home."

Tristan: “You okay to drive?”

Oliver: "I'll be dead in an hour." His turn to smile. "Later, kids."

Tristan: Tristan smiled and shook his head. “Later, man. Drive safe. We better not find you in a ditch.”

Leslie: And there was his card. "And now it's our turn." He made grabby hands for the keys before heading for the door.

Tristan: He dug them out of his pocket and handed them over. “Be gentle with my baby. She’s terribly sensitive.”

Leslie: "There's a joke in there, but I have better class than to make it."

So much he wanted to turn around and deliberately yell at the new bartender, but something told him not to. He would get one free pass.

Tristan: “Such a gentleman. My delicate sensibilities are safe.”

Tristan tossed Pete a wave and led the way out to the truck.

Leslie: The Brig was just as packed if not more. A different sort of tourist from those south of the bridge. The music was blaring and bass heavy, with no concern whether or not a conversation was going to be being drowned. Not exactly a place he'd imagine Tristan would frequent of his own accord.

The keys to the truck were stuffed in one of his larger pockets. He couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"I predict...at least two girls are going to hit on you."

Tristan: “Oh god, that’s all I need,” he laughed. “Drunk straight women shoving their tits at me and not taking no for an answer. You better protect me.”

And if not Leslie, then one of the giant bouncers.

Leslie: "What am I gonna do, absorb the tits for you?"

Tristan: “Drag me out of the line of fire.”

Leslie: "I'll summon them all to me."

Tristan: “Because you love being in the line of fire so much?” he asked with an arched brow, opening the door for them.

Leslie: "Aren't you holding out for a hero?" He walked through the door. "Till the end of the night? I gotta be fresh from a fight." He giggled at his own joke.

Tristan: Tristan laughed. “Teenage me is still disappointed that Bonnie Tyler wasn’t predicting my future with that song.”

Leslie: "Maybe she was." He put on a serious face. Serious subject, after all.

Tristan: Yeah, maybe she was. He was a grown ass man and he’d been through a lot of duds and it really was going to take Superman to sweep him off his feet.

But that was way too dark to say at a time like this. Thoughts like that were for other nights when he was drunk and depressed.

Instead, Leslie would get lighthearted Tristan. “You’re right. Feel like playing hero?”

Leslie: "Right and good, remember? Now, what do you want to drink? It's all on me until midnight."

Tristan: He smiled and nodded. “Right and good. And right now I think I want an Old Fashioned.”

Leslie/Q: Now to flag down that pretty bartender he'd taken home some two years ago. That one, there, with his hair in a bun, and a smile on his face as though he'd just seen a long lost friend. The one that glanced over both of their heads to wink at the bouncer across the bar.

An Old Fashioned and a water. And there they were. The first absolutely gorgeous city girl coming to say hi and ask for a cigarette.

Tristan/Tane: The bouncer across the bar winked back. He’d spotted Tristan and was currently preparing himself for an evening of entertainment.

Every time the poor thing came in he was mobbed by women he had no interest in.

“Good god, it’s starting already,” Tristan muttered so only Leslie could hear, taking one of the barstools.

Leslie: "I called it," he grinned. But Tane Lukela knew as much as he did. He didn't need clairvoyance for this.

Tristan's cocktail was immediately paid for and handed over personally. "Now drink this. All of it, and take my fuckin' hand."

Tristan: "Don't have to tell me twice." The drink would be downed with one hand while the other felt for Leslie's. He didn't know what the plan was, but he hoped its goal was to make him look as gay as possible.

Leslie/Q: The strength he felt in the weight of that bear paw was quietly impressive. It was worn with years of callosity. His own burned fingertips could not compare; no cook could never match scars with a fisherman.

The humor was crystal clear on Q's face, watching one pretty face lead another towards the crowded dance floor. He couldn't touch either of those men anymore. They weren't the same as Luke Graham. Neither of them needed his service.

"When did that become a thing?" he asked the bouncer, still watching while Leslie Issott took hold of Tristan Seger's hips, swaying them back and forth trying to lessen his rigidity.

Tristan/Tane: Tane used the proximity to the dancefloor as an excuse to move closer to the bar, and to Q by extension. "No idea. Maybe it's not even an official thing. They could be testing the waters."

Granted, these particular waters weren't ones Tristan really cared to test. "You're making me dance? Les, come on, you know I'm a bad dancer." Said like he wasn't letting Leslie move his hips any which way he wanted.

Leslie/Q: "You would look good with Tristie," Q grinned. "I'm gonna think on that while I pour beers."

Leslie just smiled. "Close your eyes." He was pulled closer. Enough for Tristan to feel his body heat and the tickle of his opened flannel shirt. "Just feel my fingers. Listen to the music."

Tristan/Tane: "'Tristie' couldn't handle me." Tane grinned back. "Only you're equipped to do that, gorgeous."

Oh, god. Tristan wasn't prepared for this, in any sense of the phrase. He was suddenly hyper aware of each one of his body parts and what they were doing and what Les was doing and where they were.

He couldn't tell if closing his eyes made it better or worse. "I'm listening." I'm feeling.

Leslie: There was something sexually appealing about a vulnerable Tristan. A man thick with strength and leather worn with hardship and time. Seeing him all but quiver in search of guidance made Leslie want to press his lips to his mouth and measure equal to the task.

A slender, feminine arm wrapped around Tristan's shoulders. It seemed he was going to garner attention even here. Whatever she'd said was unintelligible, so Leslie just laughed.

"I'm teaching my friend how to dance."

"Oh! Well I can help with that, cutie."

Tristan: And just like that, the spell was broken and their bubble popped. How the hell had he gotten this invisible neon sign above his head that said, 'I'm straight!'? Where the hell was that sign back when fucking Mitchell was pushing him into puddles and why was it that only women could see it?

The intruder--because that's what she was--was given a tight smile and a silent, projected, 'please go away'.

Leslie: His hands never left Tristan's hips. "Why don't you help me help him?" Never one to spit venom if he didn't need to. Surely a compromise could be made.

With a giggle, the young woman slipped behind the witch and wrapped her arms around his waist. That was fine. She could touch him without complaint so long as her fingers kept their distance from the fisherman.

Tristan: What rigidity Tristan had lost came flooding back. Having to see this random woman's arms around Leslie was much, much worse than simply having to dance, or having her touch him.

Going to start wearing a fucking pride bracelet, he thought to himself, trying his best not to glare or appear sour.

Leslie: "It's okay," he mouthed. Gave Tristan one of his flirtatious grins and rolled his hips. "Just watch me."

Tristan/Tane: Just watch him. Tristan could do that. He would do that. He would watch Leslie and try to ignore everything else. Leslie was the reason he was here, after all.

"Uh oh," said Tane, tsking. "A girl found them. Tristie's annoyed."

Leslie/Q: "He won't do anything about it," Q shrugged. "He's built like a tree but acts like a schoolboy." He smiled. "You'd like to see hands on me though."

There was no denying the woman's presence. Her skin a much darker tone than Leslie's light blue and white shirt were easy to follow. Her black holo painted nails scraped along his stomach and clenched his shirt. She'd taken to his side, her eyes back to Tristan, as though he were her next target.

Tristan/Tane: Tane hummed, eyes narrowing as he studied the situation. Tristan's dislike for the woman was palpable to a trained eye, but so was something else. Something deeper.

He chuckled at Q. "Damn right I do. Mine."

The woman would not find Tristan's gaze meeting or even vaguely gravitating to hers. He wouldn't cause a scene, no, but he also wouldn't be as nice and gracious as Leslie. If she had any intelligence or awareness at all, she'd get the hint.

Leslie: The sense she lacked her friend carried for her. She counted her lucky. Everything she saw was being recorded, soon to be posted. Leslie turned his head towards the new girl and smiled.

"I think she might need some water."

"I got her," she laughed.

His arm slipped around Tristan's waist as she was tugged away. There now, that wasn't so bad. He was given his full attention once more.

Tristan/Tane: "He's rescued." Tane would be giving Q the play by play while his bartender worked. He was invested in this now. "What's he drinking? He's gonna need another one here in a bit. Look at him, he's like a porcupine."

There was a God. Some of the prickliness Tane had pegged was slowly leaving Tristan, leaving relief and something...else in its place.

None of which he would let Leslie see. Leslie would just get a smile.

Leslie/Q: "Put your hands on me." His voice low enough only for the man in front of him to catch. Another roll of his hips. This was the same man from The Pearl Pond. The same man with an herb garden. The same man with a hundred flannel shirts. This was also the same witch from Charlotte that went clubbing with Belmira on weekends.

"He's got an Old Fashioned. N'he's obsessed with the opposite." Q shook his head.

Tristan/Tane: He reminded Tane of someone. He wouldn't say so aloud, but the realization hit him hard and made him a little sad. Not out of pity, however. Never pity.

But where to put them? Leslie's hips? His waist? Around his neck?

Tristan settled on his waist. He would even try moving his hips again, despite the fact tat he was starting to feel self-conscious again. He almost envied people who could just...do this like it was no big deal.

Leslie: He was dancing with just such person. Having never been one to consider whether or not he seemed silly in the eyes of strangers. He'd lived the first half of his life in ignorant bliss. The other half he was too full of smiles to give a shit.

"There you go," he praised. His gaze only dropped long enough to admire their nearly touching bodies.

Tristan: "I look ridiculous," said Tristan. It felt like there was a big giant spotlight on him. A spotlight that just so happened to be coming from Leslie, especially when he was looking at him like that.

"Regretting bringing me in here yet?"

Leslie: "If you look ridiculous, I look ridiculous. And I don't look ridiculous." Quite the opposite and he was just confident to know. Long fingers buried themselves in Tristan's hair and squeezed. He leaned himself chest-to-chest and swayed their bodies.

"You don't look ridiculous at all," he whispered in his ear.

Tristan: No, Leslie didn't look ridiculous at all. He looked comfortable and sure of himself and now his fingers were in Tristan's hair. Now was leaning closer. So close that Tristan could feel every ounce of heat coming off his body, so close that all Tristan could smell was the scent of him.

Leslie's whisper had what felt like his whole body covered in goosebumps. This was such new territory for them. "What do I look like?" he murmured back, his already low voice turning his words into a soft rumble.

Leslie: "You look like you're nervous. You look like despite how afraid you are, you're having fun. You look like you want to kiss me." Gently, he slid his nose from his ear to his jaw, feeling warm skin and paying mind to his breathing. What he could manage to hear over the pulsating music.

Tristan: He'd pretty much figured out that it was obvious how nervous he was but afraid? He hadn't thought he was afraid. Maybe he was.

And maybe despite being afraid, and despite feeling out of his element and self-conscious and nervous he was having fun, or at the very least, enjoying this precious intimate moment he never thought he'd get to have.

Tristan turned into the affection, asking, "Can I?" with barely a breath of space between their lips.

Leslie/Q: The music had become softer. His body had come to a halt. In a dance of their own, left to their own devices. He wanted to smile, but felt doing so would break some sort of spell. Tristan was asking what he'd wanted for years. After men like Callum MacGillivray and what's-his-name, Tristan deserved a fucking kiss. His only concern was for his own sanity. All of that heartbreak and disappointment meant he must have been last on his list. This was a drowning man's final cling to a raft.

He was overthinking this. His gut wasn't always right. He could ignore it.

"Fucking kiss him already," the bartender hissed from the peanut gallery. An inch from affection. Just an inch from a kiss. The suspense was killing Q.

Leslie continued to whisper. "Do you want to? Right here? Or do you want to wait until we're alone?"

Tristan: Tristan took a deep breath in. The music and the noise of the crowd had faded to a faint buzz in the background. All he could hear and feel was the bass and his own heartbeat thundering in his chest. Fuck, he could almost swear he was looking at the pair of them from somewhere outside his body, like his soul had just fucking left him.

"I've been waiting for five years. I'm done waiting." Fear and nerves be damned.

Tristan finally let his lips touch Leslie's on a long exhale and it was like someone instantly switched the noise back on. He could hear the music and the noise but all he could feel and taste was Leslie Ethan Issott. He was the only thing that was real.

Leslie/Q: Had he heard that correctly? Or had his brain filled in words in Tristan's voice before lips caressed his own? His mind became delightful static. He offered his captain lips and tongue and finally smiled. The softest laugh exhaled between them. He was warmer than he'd expected.

Q was smacking Tane's chest an arm a hundred times. He had his doubts on whatever the hell they were doing, but it was still entertaining as hell.

Tristan/Tane: Tane was trying to stifle his laughter. "I know, I know!" he whisper yelled, catching Q's hand and holding it still. "They're gonna notice we're watching if you keep flailing! I can't believe he actually did it!"

Tristan couldn't believe it either but God in heaven was he glad he had.

He finally felt comfortable enough to pull Leslie flush against him, still swaying to keep up the pretense of dancing. Much as he wasn't looking to give the people around them a show, he did want to indulge himself for as long as possible.

Leslie would be able to feel a deep, approving hum emanating from somewhere in Tristan's chest as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. After all these years he just had to know what this man tasted like.

Leslie: Q and Tane were being paid no mind from the witch. Neither was his former dance partner and her friend, recording at their table, full of drunken giggles. Tristan wanted to explore, and he was obliged with a submissive curious tongue, offered with every tiny kiss.

His eyes opened. A moment was needed to adjust to the limited light, to focus on Tristan and his tousled hair. He couldn't think of something clever to say. He could still taste his lips and tongue, the whiskey he'd had before stepping onto the dance floor, and he wanted to savor. He was curious if he could still taste the Altoid he had popped in his mouth on the way over.

Are we finished dancing? his eyes asked.

Tristan: There's that spotlight again, Tristan thought, smiling at Leslie. His lips had been left with a pleasant little tingle and a faint trace of something distinctly Leslie dancing on his tongue. He wanted more.

They were definitely finished dancing. In more ways than one.

Finally feeling somewhat back in his element, Tristan took Leslie's hand and led him off the dancefloor. He had plans for him.

Leslie: Leslie followed behind, hand in Tristan's. He was aware of how quiet he was being. It was as though Tristian had stolen his voice with his kiss. Perhaps he too was magic. More than anything he was curious was he planned to do next.

Tristan: The first order of business once they stepped outside was to take a deep breath. Tristan couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. His mind felt completely hazed and completely clear at the same time. More than clear enough to notice that Leslie had yet to speak, as a matter of fact.

So the first real order of business was to turn and ask, very softly, “How do you feel?”

Leslie: It seemed that Tristan had caught on. His grasp tightened, reluctant to be released. What the hell had happened? Where was his tongue suddenly?

He opened his mouth to speak. I feel fine. More than fine. I want your mouth again if you don't mind.

Blue eyes dropped between their feet. Chewed his bottom lip. Ah. It had been something he'd said. His body had seized in wait for a specific answer.

"Five years?"

Tristan: Tristan took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Five years." Why backtrack? He'd already said it once. If he was going to make himself look pathetic in front of Leslie the damage had already been done.

Leslie: "Were you waiting for me to get clean?" He was surprised how little energy he could muster to ask.

Tristan: He shook his head. "No. I'm so glad you did but it wasn't that."

Leslie: "Was I too young back then?"

Tristan: "Not that either. I just..." He sighed and shrugged. "I didn't think you'd ever want someone like me."

Leslie: "Why?" He hadn't let go of his hand yet. Tristan's honesty kept his grasp.

Tristan: "I'm not particularly interesting or exciting or...polished. I smell like fish for a large part of the day, I'm covered in weird scars and callouses. I'm a walking sailor stereotype." Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing new. Nothing terribly worthy of someone like Leslie.

Leslie: "I'm a former drug addict with no worthwhile skill to write home about." Out came the pointed finger to the ground. He was serious. "So you've allowed yourself to be with shitty fucking people because you see yourself as shit?"

Tristan: "I haven't been with much of anyone, Les," he said softly. "After a while you start thinking it's you. That you're lacking something or have some fatal flaw that can't be overlooked or just plagued with bad luck."

Leslie: "Or maybe you're amazing, but you think you're shit, so you surround yourself with shit you assume you deserve."

He looked to their hands.

Tristan: Tristan squeezed Leslie's hand. "I think some bad thoughts from time to time, but I am one hundred percent certain that I surround myself with the right things when it really matters. The right and good things."

Leslie: "I want to weep for the lost time." He couldn't manage to lift his head yet.

Tristan: "Maybe we haven't lost anything." Leslie didn't need to lift his head. Tristan would take his other hand and squeeze it just like he had with his other hand, all in Leslie's current line of sight. "Maybe this happened at exactly the right moment, exactly when it was meant to."

Leslie: "I don't like thinking that way." His hand was taken away, only to be placed over Tristan's neck and jaw. Ever so gently squeezed his throat, allowing him to feel his strength. The fisherman was given his lips once more. It was his turn to taste and explore.

Tristan: Tristan was more than happy to let him. Leslie could taste and explore to his heart's content; he would part his lips to allow him entry and slip the hair tie out of his hair in case Leslie wanted to play with it and simply give himself over completely.

And when he found a moment he'd whisper, "You are worth every moment of the past five years."

Leslie: This was what had been denied. Those nights with other women, other men, when he could have had this. He didn't want to think Tristan was right, and that Fate with a capital F meant anything. He had hated the mention in his coven, and he certainly didn't want to think Fate had anything to do with his love life.

Leslie had dropped his smile somewhere in the bar. Something mature had taken its place. A silent lament for their lost time, mindlessly flirting when every word could have held significance.

He began towards the truck, walking backwards with Tristan in his line of sight.

Tristan: Every word had held significance, but Tristan didn’t see any of it as a waste. How could he? Leslie had brought so much to his life that was missing, had illuminated dark corners in him he hadn’t known existed.

He wouldn’t trade the past five years for anything. Not the good moments or the bad ones or the sad ones. They had given him Leslie.

Tristan smiled softly as he followed Leslie. Their hands were still joined. “Where to now?”

Leslie: "My space heater is broken, remember?" There was still much to think on, and questions he'd yet to ask, but for now he could manage to find his smile again. Five years. Five years. It didn't sound like a lot when he had arrived at almost twenty-five. Would he have been capable of loving him then?

To the other side of town, the scenic route under a full moon, to finally have Tristan Seger in his bed.

Tristan: “Ah, that’s right,” he said, smile growing just a little bit bigger in hopes of coaxing one out of Leslie. Funny how earlier today felt like it happened a thousand years ago. So much had changed in such a short amount of time.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he said once they were on the road, cracking the window open just a bit to let the breeze in. “Might be one of the last clear nights we have for a while.”

Leslie: "Someone around here plays a practical joke on the meteorologists." Could be a number of things. There were a number of things in this growing town. He'd yet to figure out which was the one he should be bowing to.

They'd yet to see Oliver's truck on the side of the road. Passed the trailer park. He must have made it home. His drinking wasn't what concerned Leslie. What did wasn't something he intended to push Oliver on. He had no clear idea what might happen should he try.

The concrete road suddenly became dirt. A half mile more, and the truck was turned into a small path with an A-frame cabin at its center. There were no bellowing dogs or watchful cats. Only observant owls in the surrounding trees. Too many to be considered normal for a single area.

"I doubt I have any clothes that will actually fit you," he smiled, unlocking the French doors to the smell of dried herbs and roses.

Tristan: Oh, someone was definitely doing that. "I think the meteorologists have looong since given up being surprised over the snow every year. They've got to be used to it by now."

Force of habit glancing at the trailer park as they drove past and trying to spot Oliver's truck. His house wasn't clearly visible from here but that didn't stop him from trying every time.

The sight of the cabin had him smiling. This was it. They were finally doing it.

He breathed deeply of the night air and the scent of the house and chuckled. "That's fine. Got a change of clothes in the truck for emergencies."

Leslie: "You just think of everything, don't you?"

The high ceilings gave the illusion of size to the small cabin. There were no hidden rooms of mystery, no trap doors or hallways. There was also no television, and no photographs of family or friends.

"Can you start the fire? I'll get us something to drink."

Tristan: "I didn't used to, that is until I found myself having to rush home one day so I didn't take my mama to lunch with fish guts on my pants."

Tristan liked Leslie's place. It didn't feel as closed in as he knew some of the other cabins were, and it had an energy about it that suited Leslie very well.

"Sure thing," he said with a smile, crouching beside the fireplace.

Leslie: He might as well check his blood sugar while he was at it. He'd stopped feeling the pricks nearly a decade ago.

"Sweet tea?" he called from the bathroom.

Tristan: "Yes, please!" Tristan called back as he gently coaxed the fire to life. The room would be nice and warm and cozy in no time. The scent of the flowers and plants only added to the ambiance.

Leslie: Tristan might catch the smallest noise from the bathroom. Using a lancet on his finger was one thing, another to inject insulin into his abdomen. He returned to the fireplace a short time later with two enamelware tumblers.

"It's got some lemon in it," he warned.

Tristan: "You say that like lemon's a bad thing." He smiled as Leslie returned, accepting the tea. "Bring on the lemon."

Leslie: It was flavored more with lemon than sugar, and perhaps this was a test to see if Tristan would make a face.

Cup in hand, the two green chairs against the wall were brought closer to the fire.

Tristan: No face, and no surprise. He wasn't expecting terribly sweet sweet tea from Leslie.

"Mmm. Green tea or white?"

Leslie: "White this week. Do you have a preference?"

Tristan: “Not really, just a small hatred of matcha.”

Leslie: Leslie all but fell into his seat with a pleasant sigh. Both hands cradled his cup while eying the fire.

"Five years?" he repeated, looking towards Tristan with a playful smile.

Tristan: “Five years,” said Tristan, sinking into the opposite chair and smiling back. “Surprised?”

Leslie: "When did you know? What did I do?"

Tristan: “A thousand little things, but after that first smile I didn’t stand a fucking chance.”

Leslie: "I was probably high for that first smile."

Tristan: “No, you weren’t. I remember what those smiles looked like and that first one wasn’t one of them. That first one was like the one you have now.”

Leslie: "I think you paid more attention to me than I did you that first year. Please don't hold it against me. I was somewhere else."

Tristan: Tristan shook his head. “I don’t hold any of it against you, Les. You’re here now. I’m here now.”

Leslie: "So, what were we doing? The day we met."

Tristan: “We were down at the beach. You spotted me coming out of the water.”

Leslie: Ah. Leslie tilted his head back and quietly laughed. "I remember now! I - That was the day I arrived. An hour. I'd only been there an hour and I wanted to see the water."

Tristan: “And got an eyeful of half-naked fisherman instead. It was hot as fuck that day, thought I was gonna pass out if I didn’t cool down.”

Leslie: "No, I remember now. You were beautiful. You were! I watched you for a little."

Tristan: “Dove off the dock still wearing my jeans and regretted it every step of the walk up the beach.” He laughed softly. “Good to know I at least looked all right doing it.”

Leslie: "Much to my delight and half the women on the beach."

Tristan: “Eh, I didn’t notice them. Had my eye on someone else.”

Leslie: "You're an idiot."

Tristan: “An idiot with excellent taste,” he said with a grin.

Leslie: "Not back then! And altogether you're an idiot for never saying anything."

Tristan: “I had my reasons. I was working through some things and so were you. But that I had good taste I never doubted, Les. Especially not after I saw you with Myrtle.”

Leslie: "That was day two. I'd slept in the Jeep that night."

Tristan: "She took a shine to you right away. That's praise enough for anyone."

Leslie: "Still slept two more nights in the Jeep before I bothered with a hotel."

Tristan: “Stay at the Wayside?”

Leslie: "No. The one with the red sign that used to be open," he shrugged.

Tristan: “Oh yeah, the shady one. Bonnie used to love taking her catches there,” he chuckled.

Leslie: "Mhm. Saw her." And that's all he would say about that. "I liked living with Mama. Even the birds. Especially the birds."

Tristan: "She was happy to have you there, even when she was fussing at you."

Leslie: "She's the eldest daughter. It's what they do."

Tristan: "Only with people they really like." He smiled softly. "Feels like you've lived here your whole life sometimes. And that we've known each other since we were kids."

Leslie: "Mm." Alas, that's not the case, sweet man. "You've had an entire life without me. I want to know about it."

Tristan: "You know most of the basics." He sipped his tea. "Dad took off before I was born. Moved here when I was four because mama got a teaching job at the high school."

Leslie: "She reminds me of my mother, a little. That quiet strength, you know?"

Tristan: Tristan beamed with pride. "Yeah. She's the strongest person I know. I was kind of a surprise but she took it in stride, made sure she made a good life for me. And she did. I was always fed and clothed and clean, had friends. She also made sure a couple of those friends were fed and clothed and clean."

Leslie: "There are people legally obligated to be parents, and then there are actual mothers and fathers. They're mothers and fathers in their off-duty hours."

Tristan: "She's mothered half the people I know. All but leaped at you the first time you walked through her door."

Leslie: "Does she know?"

Tristan: "Probably knew before I did."

Leslie: "Knew what?" he smirked.

Tristan: Tristan smiled. "That I had a thing for my friend Leslie."

Leslie: He began to stare into his glass, watched the fire. He kept his eyes to himself for a bit.

"You know, she was the one...that told me about..." Callum MacGillivray.

Tristan: His expression sobered as he nodded. He'd suspected as much. Only Meg could tell that story and ensure it wouldn't be talked about afterward.

He waited quietly, expecting--and ready to answer--Leslie's questions.

Leslie: Only silence followed. Another sip of mildly sweet tea.

Tristan: "You can ask, you know. Stopped hurting and making me mad years ago."

Leslie: "I don't think that's true. It's left scars I heard them this morning. I heard them at the bar."

Tristan: "There are far fresher scars than that one. It's been...hell, nearly a decade since all that went down. Did my grieving and my raging and I healed. Stayed healed for a while until I decided to start dating."

Leslie: "And that wasn't an expectation you think you brought with you on your next date?"

Tristan: "I wanted the complete opposite when I went on that first date afterward."

Leslie: "I'm not asking that," he said gently.

Tristan: "What are you asking?" Said just as gently. "You don't have to tiptoe, Les. I know I have a fucked opinion of myself."

Leslie: "That's just it. You might want something positive, but your energy...it's negative. Your view of yourself, you don't think other people feel that?"

Tristan: "Maybe," he said after a few moments. "Feels like every time I start building myself up and feeling okay, someone comes along and tears me back down. It would be bad enough if it was just random people, but it's been friends, too. How do I break that cycle?"

Leslie: "Do you want the most honest yet cliché answer?"

Tristan: "Lay it on me."

Leslie: "Let it roll off your back."

Tristan: "How do I do that and have it...stay rolled off?"

Leslie: "Your happiness isn't about other people."

Tristan: "So...practice makes perfect?"

Leslie: I guess you'll be practicing on me. "Mhm," he smiled.

Tristan: Tristan saw what Leslie was thinking with that smile. "You're not a consolation prize to me, Les. You never have been and I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't be here if it didn't mean something to me. Whatever you believe, you deserve someone at their best. I want to be that, for myself and for you."

Leslie: One of the few people to realize there was more to his smiles than flirtation. So caught up in his appeal, flattered to have that smile in their direction, most never thought too deeply. He was quietly stunned by being caught.

His eyes softened. "That sounds like a pretty good declaration to me."

Tristan: How could anyone not see the depth? It only took a few moments of looking to find it, if one had the desire and the patience to do so. This man was so much more than anyone gave him credit for.

"Not just a declaration." Tristan dared hold his hand out for Leslie's. "A promise. You know I'm a man who keeps his promises."

Leslie: The hand was watched. His glass sat on the floor. "I know you are." He then took Tristan's hand and stood. "Put the tea down."

Tristan: Tristan smiled and put the glass down. What are you going to do, Leslie?

Leslie: He would be led by the hand towards the stairs, towards the modest loft. Past the garment rack of mostly flannel and towards the white sheeted bed. He enjoyed watching Tristan obediently follow along. The curious and seemingly hopeful, loving look in his eyes, which must have always been there.

The fisherman was then turned and pushed onto the mattress.

Tristan: It surprised even Tristan how easily and comfortably he let himself be led. He was happy to follow, hopeful of what the night and following days might bring, and he made no effort to hide it.

He fell back on the mattress with an easy, charming grin. Blond hair fanned around his head like a halo, the hem of his shirt lifted ever so slightly to show a sliver of abdomen. What, oh what was Leslie planning?

Leslie: His eyes remained on his grinning, brand new lover as he removed his flannel shirt. An arm over his head and his white sleeveless undershirt followed, revealing freckled sun-kissed skin. Skin Tristan would know by heart after five years. Leslie knew what he was about to see, and still he was excited. He would be seen with fresh eyes tonight as he climbed into bed, straddling his thighs.

"Kiss me."

Tristan: Much as he knew the look of Leslie's skin, getting to admire it openly and with mutual and full understanding of what that meant was...a religious experience.

"C'mere then," he said, unceremoniously pulling his own shirt off and tossing it away before reaching up to pull Leslie down so he was flush against him. He wanted to feel all that beautiful pale skin as he kissed him, wanted to learn the texture after years of admiring from afar.

Leslie: In thirty years many eyes had admired, and several hands had been privileged to explore. But he wasn't thinking about them. What he saw in front of him was all that mattered in their private moment. Those needy, darling lips and those possessive rough hands.

Leslie smiled and admired the differences in their skin tone. He was pale in comparison. This masculine skin, abused by the sun and littered with scars to match his inward appearance. He didn't know how to put into words ugly beauty without fear of offending, so he kissed one of the pale lines instead.

Tristan: Ugly beauty was a completely accurate description, and one that would've amused Tristan to hear. He knew he was a bit rough around the edges. What wasn't tanned and freckled by the sun or scarred by demanding labor was tattooed, particularly his arms. The rest of him still boasted patches of clear skin.

He looked like what he was: a sailor.

The contrast between them only heightened Tristan's awareness and made the exploring that much more pleasurable. He felt drunk off of Leslie. He wanted those lips and that tongue and that beautiful skin for his very own, to taste and tease at his leisure. Having to pause to breathe was torture.

Leslie: All of Tristan's exploration caused a shiver through his entire being. Those thick hands did nothing but tickle his softer sensitive skin. Already he could feel his body heating with his nearness, anticipating the inevitable.

He searched for those lips again, unable to calm his smile. "Sorry," he quietly laughed. "I can't - I can't help it. My back is ticklish."

Tristan: "Is it now?" Tristan said in his best exaggerated drawl, grinning against Leslie's lips. Surely his sweet, beautiful friend realized what that meant?

Why, it meant that Tristan would extend his exploration to Leslie's sides and across his lower back, keeping his touch light and deliberate.

Leslie: He knew what that sweet voice meant a moment too late, though he didn't curse himself for his ignorance. All too pleased to have those hands on him, confident and playful. He slowly began to writhe, groaning and laughing.

Tristan: Tristan' laugh was little more than a content rumble that Leslie would be able to feel throughout his whole body.

"So ticklish and so sensitive." What sort of reaction would he get if his hands slipped a little lower?

Leslie: A little lower, and all laughter would cease, replaced with an open mouth and a quiet deep inhale. Despite being ticklish, he was already firm in the confines of his cargo jeans.

Tristan: "Not very ticklish now," Tristan murmured, nuzzling and kissing Leslie's neck. "Should I go even lower?"

Leslie: "Yes, please," he smiled. Warm, soft hands explored new territory, counting each new scar with delight.

"You feel so good."

Tristan: "Yeah?" His hands slid down to Leslie's ass and gave a soft squeeze, humming in approval. "Feels even better than it looks."

Leslie: He loved that warm somersault feeling which came from being touched by new hands. Made all the more thrilling when those roaming eager hands belonged to someone as attractive as Tristan.

"You're not timid at all."

Tristan: "Nope." That jaw looked so pretty. It needed some loving.

His hands moved back up ever so slightly and paused at the waistband of Leslie's jeans, where they waited for permission.

Leslie: Not what he had expected from a man with such a broken heart. There was strength in him yet.

The silent question made him roll onto his back. He reached for and guided the sailor by his shoulders. Not just permitted, but welcomed.

"Go ahead."

Tristan: If there was strength, it was fueled solely by finally getting his heart's desire. Before today the thought of having Leslie in his arms was only a fantasy he visited in quiet moments throughout the day and now?

Now he was settling himself into the warm, welcoming cradle of Leslie's body and beginning a trail of kisses from his lips that would end just below his navel.

Leslie: With Tristan's impressive body draped over his own, he could truly see and feel their differences. He did not see himself as someone weak, though underneath Tristan, he was aware of a more raw masculinity.

His stomach clenched with a gentle laugh, exposing the shadow of abdominal muscles and disappearing.

"Now your breath tickles," he sighed. "Don't stop."

Tristan: "Never would've thought you were so ticklish," said Tristan, smiling against Leslie's skin. That laugh of his was too beautiful for words, just like all the rest of him.

He gave one more kiss to Leslie's abdomen before sitting up and carefully undoing his jeans, nuzzling the newly exposed bit of skin just above his underwear.

"Lift those hips for me. These pants gotta go."

Leslie: That was his new favorite thing, seeing Tristan's face against his skin like that. He wanted more of that in his life, and he intended to have it.

That would be lifted, hands brushed over Tristan's in the process.

"Take it all," he would encourage.

Tristan: "Patience, puddin'." There was that drawl again, this time accompanied by a huge grin as Leslie's jeans were tossed to parts unknown. "There are some things that have to be savored."

Like kissing down each of Leslie's legs in turn to see if they were as ticklish as the rest of him.

Leslie: Not as ticklish no, but just a little hirsute and just as soft. He was no longer watching him. Eyes had closed, now enjoying those lips for their warmth and what they had caused. He was firm and aching, tip wet and peeking from the rim of his briefs, flush and needy.

Tristan: Soft and beautiful and absolutely perfect, especially those inner thighs. Thank the good lord that Leslie was wearing briefs; those thighs needed extra attention and Tristan didn't want anything in his way.

Actually....those hips needed attention too. Really, everywhere except Leslie's erection. He had plans for that here in a bit.

Leslie: "I see what you're doing," he softly sighed. "You know, I'm eventually going to want a turn."

Tristan: "And I'll give it to you," he whispered. Right after he gave Leslie's shaft the sweetest of kisses through his underwear.

Leslie: The quick little noise which escaped his throat was involuntary. "Ha," followed. His weakest laugh yet. "You're being mean."

Tristan: Oh, he liked that. More please. "I could never be mean to you."

To prove it, he settled comfortably between Leslie's legs and continued to kiss his groin all over. Through the briefs, yes, but not to be mean; to heighten sensation.

Leslie: Both hands now rested on his forehead. Eyes shut. Absorbed in what he could feel and refused to see. For the sake of sensation, of course, but also his sanity. If he watched Tristan for too long this foreplay would come to an abrupt end.

A series of little noises began to trickle from his throat.

Tristan: Could Leslie feel Tristan's smile? He sure hoped so. He loved every little sound and reaction he was getting and each one just made him want more.

"You all right, sugar pie?" he murmured, placing a particularly wet kiss just short of Leslie's head. "Want me to stop?"

Leslie: "No. You're - I want the opposite of stop," he laughed. His cock twitched through the briefs. Could he see that?

Tristan: He absolutely could. That deserved another giant, wet kiss.

"Yeah? And what's the opposite of stop?"

Leslie: Another gentle noise. "What do you think it means?"

Tristan: "I think it means someone wants my attention riiiiiiiiight....here." Tristan finally nudged Leslie's briefs aside the tiniest bit to expose the head of his erection, peppering it in teeny tiny kisses.

Leslie: Tristan would get a subtle sweet taste of what he had caused, which had begun to pool below the tip. Leslie felt as though he were losing his senses. No one ever enjoyed foreplay as much as he did. He had finally met his match.

"Kiss me. Up here," he gestured.

Tristan: A subtle taste wasn't nearly enough, but he'd get his fill of it here in a bit. Right after he kissed his way back up Leslie's body until he reached those lips. They were just as sweet as the rest of Leslie and they deserved just as much love and attention.

Leslie: Warm arms draped themselves over Tristan's shoulders. The opportunity presented itself. He slowly rolled his hips, allowing for his sailor to feel. There was something terribly arousing in being more naked than his partner. He would be able to feel the reason for Leslie's little noises this time. Another throb, another little "Ahn," between their lips.

Tristan: Tristan practically purred, abandoning his plan to rest his weight on his arms in favor of pressing as much of himself against Leslie as possible.

And lord, what a reward he was getting in return.

"There you go," he whispered. "That feel good, darlin'?"

Leslie: His legs deliberately spread, giving himself more pressure between them. If he had to hump this man to achieve release that's exactly what he would do. Those hips were alive with purpose now.

"It could be better," he grinned.

Tristan: "Yeah?" Another kiss. "Well let's just see what we can do about that, hm?"

One more kiss and back down he went. He hated to take away Leslie's friction but surely his mouth was a good consolation prize for that poor aching cock.

Leslie: Both hands waited for Tristan's hair as he made his way down. Clinching and tangling in sun-bleached perfection as he gasped. Fuck. His mouth was almost painfully hot.

Tristan: So much sweetness and all for him. Beautiful.

Tristan only freed part of Leslie's erection from his briefs, taking the head into his mouth and sucking rhythmically while he massaged the base through the fabric. Friction and heat and relief and torment, all at once.

Leslie: The slow burn Tristan Seger had caused an erection almost painful. His scrotum tight and wanting. There was nothing more obvious. He wanted just as much to cradle his own head as he desired to tangle Tristan's hair. Something for him to fix later in the shower. Something for him to play with while they fell asleep. He wanted everything.

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. And then another, and another. His groan was of frustration and elation. Just as he imagined Tristan wanted.

Tristan: It was impossible to tell at the moment but Tristan was grinning like a loon. As tempted as he was to draw this out as long as possible, he couldn't do that to his sweet Leslie.

The poor beautiful cock needed relief so badly.

He rested his free hand on Leslie's abdomen, stroking his skin gently as he took more of Leslie's erection into his mouth and massaged more firmly. He wouldn't relent until he'd milked Leslie dry.

Leslie: Fuck me. Please fuck me, he mentally begged. The words could not be formed from his parted lips, taking in deep mouthfuls of air as he was swallowed whole.

Only minutes later could he manage a single sentence. "You're gonna make me cum." A warning he felt fair, for Tristan's sake. Just the thought of his name caused his stomach to flutter. The release of long hair caused it to drape and tickle his stomach. It was enough to send him over the edge, thickly spurting sweet almond flavored white.

Tristan: Tristan hummed in response, knowing full well what that would do to Leslie. That's exactly what he wanted, and he planned to do it many, many times.

And there it was. Sweet and heady and all his. Not a single drop would be wasted.

He gently stroked Leslie through it, gradually softening his movements until his lover had come down to earth.

"Perfect," Tristan murmured when he finally pulled off.

Leslie: His body was no longer his own to govern. He could not control the continuous roll of his hips, searching for the depth of Tristan's throat as he rode his orgasm to its peak and back down from the heavens.

"A+," he breathed. A tiny exhausted laugh followed.

Tristan: "Mm, very high praise." A parting kiss to Leslie's shaft and Tristan was back at his lips.

"You're so beautiful."

Leslie: The farewell kiss gifted Tristan with another glimpse of hidden abs. Halfway in his ascent and arms were back around his shoulders.

"I'd say the same to you, but I only have half of you." Another kiss regardless.

Tristan: "Sorry about that," he chuckled. "Couldn't help myself."

Leslie: "Sit up." A simple command, one given with a glint in his eyes.

Tristan: Tristan grinned and did as commanded.

Leslie: He would sit up as well, undoing the button and zipper to Tristan's jeans. "Now back down." The second, more important command as he fell back against the sheets.

Tristan: He groaned as Leslie undid his jeans. Up until now he'd been able to ignore how uncomfortably tight they'd become, but the moment Leslie freed him there was zero chance of that. Every movement sent shockwaves up and down his body.

Leslie: With Tristan on top, he could enjoy skin-to-skin while tugging down his clothes. Finally feeling his cock against his own softening member. At long last. He'd yet to see it, but he didn't need to. Already he was becoming firm again.

Tristan: Tristan settled back over Leslie with another groan. It felt like his entire body was radiating heat, between his legs in particular.

Tristan wondered how Leslie would respond to that as he found and took his lips once more.

Leslie: His response was to offer his tongue, laughing gently with a realization. "Is that you shivering, or me?"

Tristan: "Gotta be you," he murmured between kisses. "Feel like I fell into the sun."

Leslie: "Don't burn up on me."

Tristan: "Too late. I already burst into flames." He smiled against Leslie's lips. "And so did you, in a manner of speaking."

Leslie: "Your one-liners are absolutely brilliant," he spoke between giggles.

Tristan: "Thanks, I try." More kisses. So many more.

Leslie: Each heady kiss taken without hesitation, only until he felt the need to speak up. "Condoms," he managed, wetting his lips and gesturing vaguely. "I gotta get em."

Tristan: Tristan groaned softly in protest. "That means you have to move."

Leslie: "Say the word and I'll hump you 'til you cum."

Tristan: He chuckled softly. "Don't tempt me. I've got plans for you."

Leslie: "Oh? Tell me!"

Tristan: "Gotta get those condoms first." Another grin. "You won't be in any condition to do that in a bit."

Leslie: "They're in the bathroom. One of us has to get up."

Tristan: "Let me. It's my duty as a gentleman." He'd get up right after one more kiss.

Leslie: "In the medicine cabinet," he would call, waiting with bated breath until that perfect ass was out of sight before rolling over onto his stomach.

Tristan: Tristan smiled the whole way to the bathroom and the whole way back. Oh, he definitely had plans for Leslie.

And the position he found him in upon his return suited those plans so perfectly it was like fate.

Very carefully, Tristan lowered himself onto the bed and slowly started to kiss his way up one leg.

Leslie: That was exactly what he had been hoping for. Teeth raked over his swollen bottom lip and he smiled. He could feel the sun on Tristan's skin as though he had only stepped off his ship. Clean ocean still in his hair. He wanted to bottle his scent.

Tristan: The kisses stopped with one last one placed on the underside of Leslie's left cheek. Then the process began again on his other leg, starting at his ankle and moving up and up and up.

Leslie: Halfway towards the finish line of the second leg, and the witch had grown restless. Carefully, softly pressing his hips into the mattress for the frustrating temporary relief. Just like this. Their first time had to be exactly like this.

Tristan: "Nuh-uh, I see you over there. None of that, sugar pie." They had a ways to go before reaching another finish line.

He finished the second leg and gently nudged it and the other leg apart to make some room for himself. This view was just as stunning as Leslie's front. So beautiful.

A kiss was pressed to the very base of Leslie's spine. Could he guess what Tristan was about to do?

Leslie: Another one of those kisses to cause a visible shiver in Leslie. His hands pressed together, resting on his forearms, legs obedient to Tristan's whims. He just managed to look back over his shoulder.

"Kiss me first."

Tristan: Ah ha, so he did know. Good.

He could build anticipation while Tristan leaned over to give him a long, languid kiss.

Leslie: One with a playful, wicked tongue. A kiss given while also leaning himself up and pressing into Tristan's hard body. His own made demands of his sailor.

Tristan: Pressed up against him like that, Leslie would be able to feel the low, approving hum that reverberated in Tristan's chest.

"Get comfy, sugar pie," he murmured, giving Leslie one more kiss before settling between his legs once more. That beautiful ass of his needed some love too.

Leslie: He would do as he told. Arms folded for his cheek to rest. One last roll of his hips, swaying his lily-white ass for Tristan's viewing pleasure.

Tristan: Pleasure didn't even begin to cover it. Leslie was beautiful and perfect and all his.

Rather than work bottom to top like he had with Leslie's legs, Tristan worked from the outside in. He placed sweet, wet kisses and gave little delicate nips to each perfect cheek, ducking his head every now and then to kiss the head of Leslie's cock to keep him on his toes.

Leslie: On his toes was one way to put it. They were curling. No one had ever given his ass so much attention before. Five years of fantasy, and this must have been an image which kept Tristan up at night.

He would offer more to keep the sailor's attention. Watch as his hands slid down from his ribs towards his lower back. Are you watching? What about the light scrape of nails across his dimples?

Tristan: A hurricane couldn't have drawn Tristan's attention away from Leslie, but there wouldn't be a single peep of protest about Leslie's hands roaming his body. Just focused attention and another barrage of kisses.

Far from keeping him awake, this was going to give him sweet dreams for the rest of his life.

Sweet dreams filled with visions of Leslie and echoes of whatever sound he would make when Tristan finally parted his cheeks to kiss softly at his entrance.

Leslie: The sounds which came from Leslie now could easily be labeled as timid. His hands refused to move from his lower back. Too focused on that tongue and its purpose between his legs. He wanted to try this again in the shower the next day. On the shore by Tristan's boat. In his Jeep. He wanted Tristan everywhere in his life.

"Fuck," moaned the witch into the sheets.

Tristan: And they would do this absolutely everywhere, as often as Leslie wanted, whenever he wanted. Tristan just wanted to devour him whole.

He felt each soft little sound go right to his cock and reverberate around his entire being, each one spurring him forward. Leslie would be worked open with as much care as Tristan could muster and given every ounce of pleasure Tristan could give to tide him over until he was ready for more.

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he murmured.

Leslie: "Mmm," was the best reply Tristan was going to get under the circumstances. Successfully melted his lover into the mattress. Only his arms and his cock remained tense and aching respectfully. What Tristan intended now he didn't know, and not knowing excited him.

Tristan: Tristan laughed softly and covered that beautiful cock in more kisses. That's exactly what he wanted to see: Leslie drunk and boneless with pleasure.

And preferably wrapped around him but they'd get to that.

Without taking attention away from Leslie, Tristan felt around for the lube he'd gotten from downstairs. He looked away just long enough to get it open and coat his fingers, letting it warm up a little bit before taking his mouth away and massaging gently at Leslie's opening. He wouldn't allow a single moment of discomfort.

Leslie: The sound of the bottle caused a visible shiver from his body and twitch from his cock. It was now his body came alive again. Slowly raising his ass in offering. He'd expected something a lot bigger and firm, but his surprise was a pleasant one. This sweet sailor.

"Gimmie your mouth again."

Tristan: It wasn’t quite time for something bigger yet, no matter how much his body was screaming for it. He wanted to take his time and do this right, especially for Leslie.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart?”

Leslie: "My lips. Stop teasing me," he laughed. More like a whine, but there was laughter involved.

Tristan: “Aw, but it’s so much fun,” he said with a grin, moving up to give Leslie a proper kiss while he slowly began to breach him with a single finger.

Leslie: Now he would not only hear, but feel a soft moan against his lips. A smile pressed to his mouth before offering his tongue. By now his hands had moved. One forearm to prop him up, the other to cradle Tristan's face.

Tristan: There we go, Tristan thought to himself, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as much as possible. The angle made it a bit of a challenge but Leslie looked so fucking beautiful like this.

When he felt his lover was ready, he added a second finger, slowly pumping in and out. At some point he'd have to stop and deal with the condom but not yet. He wanted to enjoy this.

Leslie: Those lips were as intoxicating as he'd imagined they would be. On and on for five years. A quiet thought in the shower; musings alone in bed, a hand underneath the covers; the subtle guilty thought when in the arms of another.

"Don't stop," he whispered. "Fuck, don't stop."

Tristan: "Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing his lips to Leslie's temple as his fingers subtly searched out his prostate. "I'm not stopping until you can't take it anymore."

Leslie: "Don't stop then, either." His laugh was like a flutter. Eyes blissful and closed, highlighting the length of his light brown lashes. For the next hour, Tristan was in control of this body. It belonged to him. The arch of his back, his squirming hips, the aching need and his trembling moan were all his doing.

Tristan: "No, I'm gonna stop." He kissed Leslie's hair. "I'm gonna give you something else."

There it was, he found it. Time to gently massage it and see how crazy it drove Leslie.

Leslie: His witch was incredibly receptive. The moment he pressed was like magic, melting the top half of his lover into the mattress with a shudder. Both hands now gripped the white cover for dear life.

Tristan: Jesus fucking Christ, if that wasn't the most beautiful goddamn thing he'd seen in his life.

"That's it, baby. I've gotcha."

Tristan continued to massage as he used his free hand to open the condom. It took some doing getting it on with one hand but he didn't care. It was completely worth it to see Leslie blissed out like this.

He pressed another kiss to Leslie's temple. "Ready for more?"

Leslie: While Tristan argued with the condom, Leslie indulged himself with the laziest sway backward, fucking his lover's fingers to the best of his sexually drunken ability.

"Mm," he purred, giving only a smile in reply.

Tristan: Tristan laughed softly. "Taking that as a yes," he said, carefully extracting his fingers so he could reapply lube and position himself properly. He refused to do anything that could cause even the smallest amount of discomfort.

That meant slowly easing himself inside Leslie and giving him a thousand kisses absolutely everywhere while letting him adjust.

Leslie: He would bear witness to the parting of ribbon lips. A long soft gasp exhaled as a quivering moan. His lover was tight. No matter how careful, there was a twinge of discomfort hidden behind those eyes, shaded by blond tousled hair.

"Fuck," he groaned in pleasure. "Fuck." He reached behind to take hold of Tristan's thigh, feel his strength there.

Tristan: Tristan forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. Leslie felt so impossibly warm and snug around him; it was taking all his concentration not to start moving right away.

"I've gotcha, baby," he repeated, kissing the back of Leslie's neck. "I've gotcha, sweetheart."

Leslie: All of the various pet names were making him smile, despite the overwhelming sensations vying for his attention. Humor would always win. If he let his imagination run away with him, he would almost believe this was just a dream, and that Tristan was back at home or on his boat. Just a fantasy to satisfy his late-night libido.

"Fill me...and then kiss me. Everywhere."

Tristan: He inhaled sharply and uttered a soft curse. The smallest things were going straight to his cock and those words were no exception.

Mindful of Leslie's tightness, Tristan slowly began to move, letting his lover slowly become accustomed to the feel and heat of him while he did the same. Every little thrust was savored and paired with a kiss to Leslie's face or hair or shoulder or back or any and everywhere he could reach from this angle.

Little by little his thrusts would become deeper, marginally faster.

And every now and then he'd angle one just right before backing off, attempting to coax more of those precious sweet moans from his beautiful Leslie.

Leslie: He knew this man being exceptionally gentle was a testament to how much he cared, but he wasn't going to break. He wanted to remind him that he wasn't fragile, but thought better of it. For as many nights as he had dreamt of this moment, Tristan... this must have been mutual. They were both idiots as far as he was concerned.

What he loved most was the weight. His incredible body heat splayed over his back in order to steal kisses was warming his body to the bone. An immediate sheen of sweat created hundreds of beads over his back and shoulders, slicking his lover's chest and stomach.

"Stay," he pleaded, wrapping one of his arms over Tristan's to keep him like a perfect blanket. He wanted to hear every pant against his ear, every little noise and every pet name as though whispered like a secret. He would give a few of his own.

"Fuck," he moaned. "Ahn, ah, oh fuck. Tristie...Tristie..."

Tristan: It felt like he'd fallen into a dream. A soft, beautiful dream where he was wrapped around Leslie, loving on him the way he'd wanted to for years, hearing his name fall from Leslie's lips between moans he was pulling from him.

Ten million emotions were gathering and squeezing in his chest and he wouldn't trade any of it for all the world.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, nuzzling against Leslie and kissing his face. "Not going anywhere. Gonna stay right here with you." Another gradual increase in pace, another perfectly angled thrust. Tristan groaned.

"Feel so fucking good, sweetheart. So fucking good."

Leslie: Leslie felt as though he were having to hang on for dear life. Tristan might have a bruise on his forearm by tomorrow morning, and he wasn't in any frame of mind to notice. He knew he wasn't hurting him. Not in any significant way which mattered.

"Tristie," was all he could manage. Years of pining escaping his lips as though tonight was all they had. There was something else he had to say, but for the life of him he couldn't think of what. Fuck and Tristie were the only two words in his language.

Tristan: He could've woken with bruises over his entire arm and Tristan still wouldn't have cared; it would've been completely worth it.

Tristan smiled into Leslie's hair, feeling moved and amused and deliriously happy to hear his nickname. He'd never be able to hear it again without hearing Leslie's beautiful moans along with it.

He angled his hips yet again, but this time he kept them angled. There would be no teasing now, only gentle, relentless, loving purpose to give Leslie as much pleasure as he possibly could.

Leslie: More of those pet names. An hour of those moans and grunts and heavy breathing against his ear, please. He wanted to be selfish. He realized this wasn't the end at all. He was going to become spoiled.

The perfect angle and unyielding pace had fried what was left of his intelligence, leaving him in a primal state of sensation. This was delicious torture. With his body pressed into the blanket, hands gripped to arm and mattress, there was no means to relieve himself twice. All he wanted was to feel his body slick from Tristan's orgasm.

Tristan: This wasn't the end by a longshot; if Leslie was spoiled rotten and reduced to a happy, sated puddle by the end of the night, Tristan would consider it a job well done.

The barrage of kisses and bitten curses and heavy breaths would be steady and constant, but not for long. Leslie's perfect heat and perfect body and perfect everything was starting to get to him. He could feel that telling tingle at the base of his spine, the build-up in his core that burst into breathless, weightless, exquisite release.

Leslie: Everything was to the point of ache. Being unable to clearly see Tristan's expression as he filled the condom added a sense of both thrill and torture. Something for later, he reminded himself. Reaching back, he gripped his lover's thighs, encouraging him to stay as he rode his orgasm to its peak. The pressure caused by his animalistic writhing forced another moan from the witch. This was more than any carnal fantasy he had given himself on those late nights. He was never going to let this man go.

Tristan: It felt like every breath was simultaneously giving him too much oxygen and not enough. Everything in him felt like it was releasing; not just the orgasm, but the feelings he'd hidden and the lust he'd kept secret and the longing he'd barely kept contained.

His entire soul felt like it was sighing with pleasure and relief.

Tristan all but melted on top of Leslie, laughing softly between pants. "Jesus fucking Christ," he chuckled. "You just sucked the soul out of my body and put it back in."

Leslie: "I didn't mean to," he smiled. "Maybe a little, so you'll never lie to me again." His arms returned from Tristan's thighs to his arms, sliding towards his hands to link their fingers.

"Stay like this," he breathed. "Just stay."

Tristan: Tristan all but purred, nuzzling and kissing Leslie's neck. "Not going anywhere, babydoll."

Leslie: "Not for five minutes you're not."

Tristan: "Mmm, you gonna last five whole minutes?"

Leslie: "We'll see. You're gonna shower with me?"

Tristan: "Mmhmmm. Gotta clean you up after making you a mess."

Leslie: "Who knows what will happen in the shower," he grinned.

Tristan: "Gonna mess you up again," Tristan chuckled. "And again, and again, and again...."

Leslie: "Mmm," purred Leslie with a more satiated smile. "I'll have to check my blood sugar again before we sleep." He snorted. Ow, ow. No laughing. "That - I guess that's sexy?"

Tristan: Tristan chuckled again. "Yes, being healthy and taking care of yourself is very sexy. The height of sexy."

Leslie: "Just means you've fucked me into poor health." He turned just enough to steal a kiss. Perhaps...he would...raise his hips and arch his ass. For science.

Tristan: "We definitely can't ha--mmm..." His approving hum tapered into a surprised groan as Leslie moved.

"Someone needs some relief."

Leslie: "I still need three more minutes." But he was going to roll his hips again, hoping to get another one of those delicious noises.

Tristan: "And here I was worried I'd be too heavy and hot." This time he was prepared for those hips, but he was still sensitive enough for every little movement to pull a moan or soft curse from him.

Leslie: That's what he wanted to hear. He would dance his hips until he was certain Tristan was at his limit. He would then push himself against that warm body and hum.

"I want you to swallow me again."

Tristan: Leslie's efforts would earn him a veritable chorus oh half-strangled noises and increasingly labored breathing, but despite what was definitely some hypersensitivity he couldn't bring himself to mind.

Nor did he mind the relief and the delightful prospect ahead.

"You read my mind," he said breathlessly, stealing a kiss. "Turn onto your back for me, puddin'."

Leslie: A kiss returned with a bit of tongue. "No," he grinned. "Not yet. I'm not ready." But he would roll over regardless.

Tristan: Tristan laughed softly and rewarded Leslie with a lavish kiss before moving down his body.

"Just look at this sweet, beautiful baby." He nuzzled and kissed Leslie's cock. "He's been ignored far too long."

Leslie: Would he hear that gentle gasp? "Ha, but I'm jealous of the attention you've giving him. My face is up here," he giggled.

Tristan: "It sure is." Another laugh, and another kiss to that lovely giggling mouth. "And look at what a beautiful face it is." Yet another kiss.

Leslie: "Mm." Difficult to remove his smile; only when those lips crushed into his could he manage a straight face. Long arms clung to Tristan's neck, pulling him towards his warmth despite his already sweaty skin.

Tristan: Tristan couldn't help but smile against Leslie's lips. He did love all that body heat, didn't he? He was like a lizard sunning himself on a rock.

Well, if it was heat he wanted, then Tristan was just going to turn them slightly so he could gather his beautiful Leslie into his arms and hold him tight, never breaking the kiss.

Leslie: Gentle fingers pressed to his jaw. Arms tucked between their chests. His eyes were closed, gone somewhere far away and yet ever present. His sailor was a warm blanket, and from now on - no. That felt too extreme no matter how willing he was to think it.

Tristan: He idly moved his hand up and down Leslie's back, careful not to set off another spell of ticklishness. It really felt like something had clicked into place. He felt...right and good.

Tristan smiled and nuzzled his lover.

Leslie: The silence was lovely, but it made him wonder, "What are you thinking right now?"

Tristan: Tristan smiled. "That I'm happy."

Leslie: "Weren't you happy before?"

Tristan: "Yeah, but this is different kind of happy. The right and good kind of happy."

Leslie: "That's what we're calling it, hmm?" he laughed.

Tristan: "Yep." Another nuzzle. "Right and good."

Leslie: "Are you staying the night?"

Tristan: "I want to, yeah. Do you want me to?"

Leslie: He nodded. "I want you to."

Tristan: Kiss. "Then I'm staying."

Leslie: "Wash my back? That condom is gonna fuse to your dick if we don't get it off."

Tristan: Tristan's body shook with laughter. "Just remembered I still had it on. And don't you worry, I'm washing every last inch of you."

Leslie: He reached down, felt for the latex to carefully remove his burden. Two fingers circled his tip, watching Tristan carefully as he brought his prize to his tongue.

Leslie: "And me?" His smile was beginning to ache.

Tristan: "Well that goes without saying." He kissed that beautiful smile.

Leslie: "How many dates have you been on in five years?"

Tristan: His brow furrowed. "Um...do you really want to talk about that now?"

Leslie: "I have a reason." His smile softened just the same. "What part of that bothers you?"

Tristan: "It just feels...rude to talk about dates with other people while I'm laying here naked with you."

Leslie: "Rude to me?"

Tristan: "Yeah. I know you asked, but still."

Leslie: His thumb outlined his jaw, resting at his chin. "We weren't together, Tristie. It's okay. I want to know because I want to go on more dates than you've been on in five years."

Tristan: "In that case..." He thought for a moment. "A good bit of them were just coffee or a drink, so proper dates I'd say...six? Maybe five."

Leslie: This was a small town; a few of those dates were probably out-of-towners. That didn't make the number any less upsetting.

"Let's say six. We're going to end this year with ten."

Tristan: His smile returned full force. "Deal. I already have an idea for our first official one."

Leslie: "Our first official? Wasn't that today?"

Tristan: "You know...you're right. Our second official date then."

Leslie: "What is it?"

Tristan: "How would you feel about a nice candle lit dinner and a moonlight sail?"

Leslie: "The dinner on the boat?"

Tristan: "Not necessarily. We can have dinner in my patio and take the sail after."

Leslie: "Either way, I'd love to." And Tristan would have a kiss on account. They still needed a shower, but he was in no rush to move.

Tristan: "We should do that soon, before it gets too cold." Oh, a kiss for him? Well have one in return. Take two.

Leslie: "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Tristan: "Am I?" he whispered back.

Leslie: "You are. I'll tell you every day if you want."

Tristan: "Only if I can tell you how beautiful you are."

Leslie: "You've been telling me for years."

Tristan: "And I'm still not done," he said with a grin.

Leslie: I don't need to hear it every day, but you certainly do. "So, do you wanna call it?"

Tristan: "Call what?"

Leslie: "What we are."

Tristan: "Well..." He adjusted so he could hold Leslie more comfortably. "It doesn't have to have a name if we don't want it to, but I'm in this. I'm with you and only you."

Leslie: "And you won't spend another five years hiding something else from me?"

Tristan: "I promise to be completely open with you from here on out."

Leslie: "Words have magic, Tristie. Your word is your bond."

Tristan: "And it's freely given."

Leslie: "You're not a whim for me. I know what people say. You won't be."

Tristan: Tristan kissed the corner of Leslie's mouth. "I don't care what anyone says. They don't see what I see or feel what I feel."

Leslie: "You're basing this on intuition?"

Tristan: "Nah. Basing it on my gut and everything I can see behind those." He pointed at Leslie's eyes. "Been trying not to be obvious about how much I look at them for years. Don't have to anymore."

Leslie: "I'm probably never forgiving you for the past five years, but it's as much my fault as it is yours."

Tristan: "At least we have each other now. And neither of us is letting go."

Leslie: "That's a pretty bold statement for less than twenty-four hours."

Tristan: "I promised to be open."

Leslie: "And we will be. First confession? I jerked off to you in my jeep after seeing you walk out of the ocean." Have a snort.

Tristan: Tristan blinked for a moment before laughing. "Holy shit, are you serious?"

Leslie: "It was night, and I was alone." He was also high as a kite, but put that aside.

Tristan: "I made that much of an impact, huh?"

Leslie: "You look very pleased with yourself," he laughed.

Tristan: "Hard not to be when a beautiful, stunning man tells you he jerked off to you after meeting just once."

Leslie: "You've never fantasized about a celebrity, or someone you saw walking down the street?"

Tristan: "I have, yeah. Just never imagined someone would do that because of me one day. Not in a self-deprecating way or anything, you just never think that about yourself, you know?"

Leslie: "Have you jerked off to the thought of me?"

Tristan: "I may have," he said, smiling softly. "A handful of times."

Leslie: Oh really? "A handful? When was the last time? When was the first?"

Tristan: "Let's see....first time was...I think a couple weeks after we met? I saw you down the street and you were talking to someone and you had this smile that just slammed into me like a damn hurricane."

Leslie: "That was the first time you noticed me?"

Tristan: "I noticed you right off the bat but that day...felt like a switch flipped. Saw that smile in my head for days."

Leslie: He tried to remember what day that might have been, but that time of his life was an uncomfortable haze. A fog which he had subconsciously placed to ease the ache.

"I don't remember seeing you see me. But I remember when you walked away."

Tristan: "I was worried you'd catch me staring and think I was some kind of weirdo."

Leslie: "No, not - not then."

Tristan: "When? The first time we met?"

Leslie: He shifted uncomfortably; his compulsion to confess led him here. He had to finish. "That night at The Brig. With Q." After parting ways with supposed congestion, elated from seemingly thin air.

Tristan: Ah. That night. That night was still vivid in his memory, even after all this time.

Subconsciously, he pulled Leslie even closer. "Yeah, I remember," he said softly.

Leslie: He felt the pull for what it was, laying many tiny kisses from his chin to his chest.

Tristan: Tristan smiled and kissed the top of Leslie's head.

"Are you ready to get cleaned up, sweetheart?"

Leslie: I'm ready for many things I couldn't have been before. The question which thoughtfully lingered was if Tristan felt the same.

"Mhm." One more kiss, and he forced himself from bed.

Tristan: "All right, come on." Tristan was ready for absolutely everything, including picking Leslie up and carrying him to the bathroom once they were downstairs.

Leslie: Getting carried around was certainly not something a man of 6'3" was accustomed to. The yelp which escaped his throat caught him off guard, instinctually clinging desperate hands to shoulder and back. His laugh nervous and giddy.

"The fuck, Tristie."

Tristan: Tristan threw his head back and laughed. "I haul in fishing nets for a living, dollface."

Leslie: An image popped into mind of getting hauled into the ocean, feet and arms a flurry of frantic dangles, and laughed again.

"How long have you wanted to do that?"

Tristan: "Far too long," he said with a grin. Have a kiss. "It's like a dream come true."

Leslie: "I've never been so literally swept off my feet before."

Tristan: "Good. Gonna do it as often as I can."

He nudged the bathroom door open and placed Leslie back on his feet after one more kiss.

Leslie: Comfortable in his arms, a hand carded through his hair. Teeth softly sank into his lip and tugged for good measure. This is mine. All of this is mine. May handsome sailor. My beautiful merman. My warmth.

Tristan: Tristan gave an approving hum. Okay, maybe the shower could wait a tiny bit longer. He wasn't quite ready for any sort of distance between them whatsoever.

Leslie: "Your," kiss, "arms gotta," kiss, "be getting tired." But this neck! This neck needed attention. Such warm leathery skin his tongue could not be satisfied by a single taste.

Tristan: "They'll live," he chuckled. "Like I'm gonna give up all these kisses."

Leslie: "We can kiss in the shower. You'll still have these lips."

Tristan: "I've got all of you, babydoll." At last he put Leslie down.

Leslie: He smiled, offered one last kiss and pushed Tristan towards the steps into the tub. "I'm washing you first."

Tristan: In he went, turning on the water and letting it come to a pleasantly warm temperature. “And do some exploring?” he asked with a grin. “Get a good look at all my tattoos?”

Leslie: "I've gotten plenty of looks at them. I want to see past them."

Tristan: "You can see everything as much as you want." He held out a hand to help Leslie into the shower. "C'mere, you're too far away."

Leslie: Three steps down and into the tub. He wrapped himself around his sailor and leaned against the cold tile. What a relief this day had been.

"I'm not going to tell Oliver." He stifled a laugh.

Tristan: Mmm, perfect. Right where his Leslie belonged.

"He would be scandalized if you did," Tristan chuckled. "Betcha anything he won't pick up on it at all."

Leslie: "I flirt with you enough as it is. Only one thing will give us away."

Tristan: "The making out when his back is turned? Because that's definitely happening."

Leslie: "Oh yeah," he laughed. "I hope we get caught, but I don't wanna make it easy for him."

Tristan: "You're right, there should be sneaky blowjobs."

Leslie: "Never while we're working. I love him, but we can't give him a reason to sue."

Tristan: “He’s more likely to toss us both overboard than to sue, but we probably shouldn’t give him a stroke.” Which Oliver would definitely have.

Leslie: "I wouldn't mind watching him flip you about," he snorted.

Tristan: “The ocean does enough of that already. Got a bruise on the back of my leg the size of a baseball.”

Leslie: "You do? Back up a little?"

Tristan: “Yeah.” Tristan turned and felt around for the sore spot on the back of his thigh. It was varying shades of purple and yellow. “Fell back against a crate.”

Leslie: "Oh." He kneeled and felt at the bruise, mindful not to circle its true width, but something much smaller. Clockwise circle with his thumb and index, pouring his affection and intent upon the mark.

"Doesn't look too bad." Now that it was half the size. "I think you're gonna live, captain."

Tristan: “Doesn’t hurt as much as it did a couple days ago.” And it hurt even less at the moment than it had this morning.

“It’s not the worse I’ve had.” As Leslie would be able to tell from his many scars.

Leslie: "Good." He kissed the little bruise. Getting rid of its entirety would be too much. Telling the truth was right around the corner. Just not tonight.

"Hand me that bar?" He pointed to the green rectangle of soap.

Tristan: "Here you go," Tristan said as he handed Leslie the soap and ducked his head under the spray. God, that felt glorious.

He sighed happily and gave himself over completely to whatever Leslie's hands wanted to do.

Leslie: He wanted to wash and be washed in return. To allow their day to spiral down the drain and cleanse away years of hesitation and immaturity. They would wake the same people. The reckless flirt too optimistic for his own good; the cautious flightless creature now in possession of a voice. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

Tristan: And he would be. Leslie would be lovingly cleaned by hands that were probably too calloused but infinitely careful. He would be kissed and he would be teased and when all was said and done, he would be carried back up the stairs to be loved all over again.

#Right and Good chapter #tristanseger #leslieeissott #olivercole #petegraham #kellygeorgerose #tanelukela #qtraxler

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aviationfiction · 6 years

Text

XXX

Dante St. James

Upon slipping the other Air Jordan I sneaker onto my foot, I glanced towards the slightly uncovered enormous window and glossed my eyes over the unrivaled Los Angeles skyline. Though there’s is no way possible it can compete with New York City’s and the view of it I have from my own bedroom, it did a decent enough job in relaxing my body and allowing my mind to focus on the hectic day ahead. I’d made it through a mental rundown of this afternoon’s tasks before the stirring between the sheets of the canopy style California King Bed abruptly interrupted my thought process and completely captured my attention. As the rays of the sun subtly peaked through the curtain’s opening, they cascaded over her ever smooth skin and illuminated her nudity and the top sheet that barely covered it. I froze; partially because I didn’t want to awaken her but most of all, because it’s become a normal response to the breathtaking sight that I can’t quite get enough of or used to.

Over the years of coming into my manhood, my version of my dream woman transition from being a foolish figment of my imagination to an afterthought because the concept seemed not only dated, but childish. For friends and the occasional cousins who were within my age bracket, their versions of that particular woman consisted of about five to ten different celebrity women morphed into one person with the capabilities of a God, domesticated nature of their mothers, and the intimate capabilities of their wildest dreams while yet trapped into the unrealistic sexist standard of being untouched by any other man. As a matured, I began to seek instant compatibility. I figured that it was a fair enough necessity to judge a woman and relationship by. It’s what also withheld me from going beyond simple conversations and trapped me in a limited amount of dates. My short lived college relationship seemed to have started with a decent amount of compatibility and yet the lack of there being enough drifted us apart. Later on down the line, I revised that standard to testing out the waters and seeing if we could learn to be compatible. I lived that life with Samira for a couple of months and realized it had no standing. I then left it up to the higher power and universe to work something out and present it to me as one of my greatest gifts at some point in my life or to give me a sign of what to understand and seek while awaiting her. Both happened. As I sit here and stare at the being that has become an essential in my own world, I know that she is the woman of my dreams. I cannot deny questioning it and even wallowing in fear for having fell so hard in such a quick paced manner and yet every question has been answered, every fear is quickly alleviated, and every prayer is answered with a deeper understanding of who we are individually and as partners. My life hasn’t been the same since my eyes landed on her tear stained face. Days after that encounter, I found myself bitterly chuckling because she filtered into my thoughts and remained locked there despite my multiple attempts to distract myself. My nights in bed were filled with questions of her well being. My urge to get back to that jet company exceeded any other desire I had. What I thought was vacuous infatuation turned into this; all of this. My humility and thankfulness is boundless.

“Babe.” As her groggy voice filled my ears, I quickly stood up and approached her side of the bed. When she reached for the empty side, I leaned over to soothe her with a kiss to the side of her neck and a soft caress to her bare thigh.

“Go back to sleep. I have a few things to do so I’m heading out.”

“What time is it?” As she placed her hand over mine, I contemplated whether I should tell her that or not.

“Noon. It’s still early. Continue resting okay? Neither one of us slept much.” I had every urge to climb back into bed, wrap her up into my arms again, and fall back into the slumber my body so badly wanted but last minute details are awaiting me and I’d rather not have another deafening wake up call from Stacey.

“Okay. I love you.” The words flowed from her supple lips so effortlessly and arose those normal chills I get in the napes of my neck whenever we’re within one another’s presence. My lips met the side of her neck once more and then the soft skin of her cheek as she drifted back into her slumber.

“I love you too.” I placed my American Express Centurion card and fifteen hundred dollars in cash on a nightstand before quietly exiting the bedroom and closing the door behind me. Fredrick’s slick persuasion caused us all to end up at Playhouse last night, including Stacey who rolled her eyes at the thought of being in the Los Angeles nightclub amongst the disgustingly small circle that is Hollywood’s celebrity scene. All it took was one drink for me and about two for Autumn to worsen our already raging hormones. I don’t even remember the poor excuse we used to leave, but we were gone within an hour of our arrival and pulling one another’s clothes off before the door to our executive suite could close behind us. Somewhere in the midst of catching our breaths and yet her straddling my lap for round two, she playfully scolded me for having sweated out her hair and stated that I’d be paying for it to be styled for the Baraya Los Angeles grand opening tonight. I’m keeping my word. The cash is for her hair and the card is for whatever catches her eyes if she passes by some stores around the city. I’ve yet to see what she intends on wearing this evening but I’m assured in whatever it is being a cause for us to sweat out her hair yet again but at least the event would be behind us.

Before exiting the suit, I grabbed my Nike backpack off the living room couch and tossed it over my shoulder as the door closed behind me. The elevator ride was as quiet as I needed it to be and surprisingly, so was the walk through the main lobby of The Four Seasons. I knew I was the last one to leave out of my comfort zone because Mike had already texted me and told me that I was on “light skinned people time” while they waited for me to come downstairs.

“What took you so long? Don’t pull that Mariah Carey ass shit no more.” Drips of Fredrick’s Gatorade trickled down the side of his mouth as he laughed at Mike’s unnecessary complaint and my middle finger was the only response that I could muster up.

“You look tired. Have you slept?”

“Not much.” Stacey examined my face and her eyes narrowed in curiosity as she awaited an excuse for why that was.

“Why not?”

“Y’all ready to go? This isn’t court. What am I being interrogated for?”

“Oh, I get it. You’re cranky because you and Autumn were humping all night long even though you knew you had to get up early. Now you’re tired as hell.” Of course she’d go there. Even if her assumption was completely inaccurate or baseless, she’d still go there because she can’t help herself nor is there a filter in her throat that waters down anything she says. “Go ahead and tell me I’m lying.”

“You’re not lying Stace. Look at his face. Most of all, look at his neck.” Fredrick pointed at a spot on the left side of my neck and I instantly reached my hand up to cover whatever love mark it could have possibly been. I don’t know how I missed it while glancing at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

“There’s nothing there, but you damn sure just told on yourself.” Their laughter was loud enough to catch the attention of a number of people exiting through the revolving door. Though my lips curved into a subtle smirk, I suppressed my own laughter so I could refrain from giving them the satisfaction of getting off a shitload of jokes on me today.

“Y'all are clowns.”

“Aye man. It’s a beautiful thing.” Before Mike could pat my back in jest, I opened the door behind me and stepped outside. “She stole you from us and I’ve come to terms with that. We all have. You’re married and you’re not even married. Shit, are you married? I don’t know when it comes to you two these days.”

“Nah. I’m not married yet.”

As we piled into the awaiting SUV and took the thirty minute drive to our now completed Los Angeles location, I was thankful Stacey called for a driver. My sleepiness would spark up a restlessness that wouldn’t have been able to handle the never-ending and absolutely ridiculous Los Angeles traffic. While New York is supposedly the city that never sleeps, it’s laughable to speak on our rush hours when there’s literally always traffic on the roads and highways on the West Coast. There doesn’t even have to be an accident, construction, or some trivial hold up. The traffic is embedded within the city’s day to day life. It’s a norm that I can’t get with which is hilarious because I have a home in Malibu that I plan to live in at some point in my life. I suppose I have to mentally toughen myself up to bare it, but for now?

Hell no.

“This is absolutely breathtaking. You three have yet to do anything less than amaze me.”

Twenty-four floors above the downtown skyline, Baraya at The W Hotel, Los Angles is the embodiment of three visionaries coming together to supersede what we’d already done out in New York City. Initially, there was the idea tossed around of literally replicating the New York restaurant’s interior design and ambiance but it was myself who tossed that idea out of the window when I explained how both cities are absolutely nothing alike. While the three of us have our own biases towards the city we were raised in, there had to be acknowledgement of the Los Angeles tourists and it’s natives who stand by their city, it’s impact, and most of all, the vibe. After having secured a deal with the W Hotel, and choosing to build it on it’s top floor, it was a no brainer to use the skyline as the sole influence for the interior. Fredrick implemented the concept of creating a dining and lounging experience perfectly meshed together for a variety of age groups to enjoy. A group of women could come and relish an outing together for a girl’s night, a man can impress the hell out of the woman of his affections with a date night, and it’s the perfect setting for business dinners or an outing with colleagues. The custom pendant lighting served as a continuation of the L.A. skyline, by pulling it inside and continuing it above the heads of our guests. The atmosphere of the New York location is all about sophistication but this one is all about the grown and sexy. It makes me damn near want to remodel.

“Thanks Stace. I can’t believe it all came together like this. Look at this place.” Mike turned in a complete circle and crossed his arms over his chest in a moment of pride and contentment.I nodded. Hell, there was a point I doubted we’d be able to close the deal with Starwood. I don’t give a damn how educated we are, the accomplishments that followed, and the wealth that we’ve amassed. There has never been an instance where in some capacity we weren’t reminded of the color of our skin and our “place” when conducting business and trying to close a deal that no one within our ethnic background has attempted. Whether it’s the extensive research into our backgrounds and the onslaught of questions that follows it or the snide remarks about our kind and culture that are masked as jokes, it’s never as easy to leave the table with agreements made and contracts signed as it would be if we were of their kind. Not only does it take genuine determination, it takes being just as much of a shark, master manipulator, and slick fuck as they are. If I had to give Richard credit for anything in my life other than childhood financing, it would certainly be that.

“Not to sound arrogant, but this is the kind of place I could see myself eating dinner or having a drink at frequently. This is literally my style and I’ve yet to see anyone master that other than us. It’s was perfect switch shit up with the restaurant while keeping the nightclub as golden and first class as the one in New York. We gave them something new and yet something known and raved about. Pat your damn selves on the back fellas; shit you too Stacey. You’re always the essential helping hand we need. This is our accomplishment.” His words reigned truth in every single sense. Stacey isn’t only essential in helping. We see to it that she has actual stake in most of our endeavors. Initially she argued against it, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

“A shot to that?” I suggested as I pointed at the fully stocked bar. Since our bartenders weren’t in yet for the grand opening this evening, it was left up to me to pour everyone’s vice into four glasses. Fredrick? Patròn Silver. Mike? Rèmy Martin XO. Stacey? Malibu Coconut Rum. She’s a lightweight. Myself? The good ol’ potent Hennessy.

“Shots not only to accomplishing yet another goal we set out to make happen, but also to being a family and continuing to do all of this together. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Love, family.” The sound effect of our glasses clinking together solidified our toast and we tossed back the contents inside of the glasses.

“Lets get a good look at downstairs and then get out of here. I promised Erica I’d take her to find shoes and accessories for tonight and then I need to pick up a shirt from the Tom Ford store over on Madison.” Fredrick tossed the glass on the counter and Stacey smirked as her eyebrow flew up.

“Mr. Only Spend My Money On Me is taking his girlfriend shopping? So you really love her huh? It’s quite interesting to see you all letting go of those boyish ways and actually becoming grown men. You all literally proved that men are teens until they’re damn near forty. How cliché.”

“First of all, I’m not damn near forty. Second, I’m not selfish. I just don’t prefer to spend the money I work my ass off for on temporary people. Third, I do love her. I can’t even deny that.”

“Oh shit. He finally admits it. It only took your ass how long? A year and some change? Shit, two years? You’ve been knowing her for a minute and refused to even acknowledged that you liked her. Then you denied being in a relationship. Now you’re in love? You and this Al B Sure face ass really has Satan chilling in winter gear right now.” Our laughter filled the entire room as Mike finished his statement and I shook my head at his antics. He’ll never fail to make his additional two cents a mixture of truth, jokes, and insults to keep the moments lighthearted between all of us. He and Stacey are notorious for it and yet the both of them serve as the perfect balance of tough love and endless support that both Fredrick and I need. “You’re taking her to Christian Louboutin aren’t you?”

“Shit, probably. That and Giuseppe are her favorite spots.”

“If you’re dropping stacks on shoes, I know this man here is probably buying Autumn property. He’s vomit worthy romance film in love with Esmerelda.”

“Esmerelda?” Stacey and I both called out the name in unison. His statement went completely over my head. I can’t even get Autumn to allow me to buy her a pair of socks let alone some property. I just want to spoil her. I know men typically do it for the stroking of their own egos, but for me it’s because she deserves it. She doesn’t spoil herself enough. She gives me a challenge when it comes to doing it on a normal day to day and is keeping up with that when it comes to her birthday. This evening, I’m wearing a damn near seven thousand dollar watch she gifted to me for mine and yet all she wants is a pair of Kanye West’s kicks for her birthday. Her stubbornness is wild.

“She looks like her. Y'all never seen The Hunchback of Norte Dame? Autumn looks just like Esmerelda.”

“You watch Disney on your spare time?”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I’m talking about. Look it up. Your girl looks like her.”

“Okay, Mike. I see what those young ass paralegals you be running through has you watching during pillow talk.” I glanced back at his widened eyes as I turned to towards the elevators and the sounds of him pleading his case for why my claim is inaccurate made me snicker the whole entire way downstairs to the nightclub. He’ll refuse to admit it but a lot of those paralegals literally aspire to work in the same building as him. He's a hot commodity around his firm but the best part about it is there isn’t a single person who’s employed there who doesn’t respect and appreciate him. No matter what their job position is, their ranking, or the amount of money they’re bringing in, I’ve yet to ever hear of anyone not speaking highly of him. He’s a hot shot lawyer so it’s a no brainer he’ll have paralegals, legal secretaries, attorneys, and even judges trying to get into his presence on a personal level. I’m just waiting to see which one’s going to actually keep his attention beyond playful flirting or one casual dinner date that every now and then leads to a night in their bedroom, because it’s damn sure not happening in his. The day I hear about him laying up with a woman in his house, is the day I’ll know he’s in love.

Until then he’ll flirt and pretend like he’s too busy to be the sucker for love that he truly is.

Lunch was pizza and because of that, I felt guilty because Autumn wasn’t with us. Before leaving, I ordered a personal pizza for her just in case she wanted it for either lunch or some sort of a snack as she readied herself for this evening’s festivities. Upon my arrival back to our privacy, the only signs of her presence were her possessions and her scent. I knew she planned to get her hair done but I thought she was going to pull one of those moves where she pays the hairstylist to make a personal visit to her. Instead, she chose to go to whatever salon Heather suggested. Of course, as I expected, the cash and my credit card were in the place that I left them in. I can already tell that I’m going to have to exhaust myself in trying to get through to her unnecessary pride and make her comfortable enough to confide in me for everything that comes with companionship.

A small smirk tugged at my lips as I glanced at my now steamed shirt hanging on the door of the bedroom’s closet and the rest of my attire for tonight neatly laid out so I’d be able to grab it with ease. On the night table was the jewelry box containing my Cartier watch and cufflinks and my Tom Ford loafers were conveniently at the foot of the bed. A chuckle followed my thoughts of how I’d occasionally picture what it would be life to have a woman doing all of these things for me. What makes it all the more amazing is my lack of expecting it. She does it because she wants to.

I’m so proud of you

While standing in front of the mirror in the suite’s master bathroom, I read aloud the message she wrote on one of the Post-It notes she tacked onto the corner of the mirror on my side the sink.

Your endeavors aren’t what make you successful. It’s your heart. It’s that beautiful mind. It’s your soul.

That message was on it’s own neon green little slip of paper right under the first message. In all of the racing that my mind had been doing, until that toast an hour or two ago, I hadn’t taken a moment to truly bask in yet another task on my list of dream endeavors having been executed and completed. As Autumn has told me time and time again, I tend not to celebrate myself or take time out to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I’m rarely interested in compliments from people outside of my circle and I tend to shrug off theirs as well. I’ve yet to actually stop immediately jumping into what’s next and appreciate the now. It’s Autumn who’s been influencing me to celebrate everything as they come because despite any preparations, you don’t know where life is going to take you next. Her whimsical nature is rubbing off on me in some aspects which is why something as small as her little notes feels so grand. No materialistic item can measure up to her love being put into words and thoughtfully tacked onto a mirror simply to put a smile on my face. To have her be proud of me counts tremendously because she now is apart of the reason why I do everything that I do.

After wrapping up a quick phone call with Stacey, I flopped down on the bed and allowed my body to sink into the comfort of the down comforter and the memory foam it covered. The scent of berries and cinnamon filled my nose as my face meshed against her pillow and I allowed the faint sound of the television to send me to an on and off couple of hours of slumber. Though I heard her when she returned, not even the sound of Autumn doing her best to quietly move around the room could coerce me to move my lazy body off of the bed.

“You can have the bathroom whenever you’re ready Suga. I took my shower.”

“Nah, you can have it. I know you have to finish up your make up and whatever else. I’ll use the other one.” I still hadn’t moved. I could barely lift my head to take a glance at her. When I forcefully opened my eyes, I happened to catch her as she walked around the bed and to the closet. Her wavy hair cascaded down her back and slightly sway with every subtle switch in her walk.

“You’re tired huh? I kept telling you that you should go to bed but no, Mr. Endless Stamina wanted to be the Energizer Bunny.” My groggy chuckle slipped out easily as I thought back to the moments of her warnings that I needed to get some rest and the moans that immediately followed them.

“The Energizer Bunny is just recharging for tonight’s rounds.” Her sudden silence was followed by a pillow crashing into my head. My laughter harmonized with her own and she hit me with it once more before dropping it.

“Go and take your shower.”

“Get in with me.” A chuckle and the shaking of her head quickly followed my request. I should have known she’d deny me.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’ve already done so and I have things to do. I let you sleep longer than I actually should have. So, it’s time to get up and get yourself ready.” I took her into consideration for an additional five minutes and didn't move until she was tugging at my shirt and doing her best to completely pull me out of the the bed. My vengeance was a reach up under her silk robe and smacking my hand into the completely bare flesh it was covering. I had every intention to wait until the last possible hour to handle it but it’s just my luck that the woman I’m in love with and the woman who is undoubtedly my big sister share a trait in staying ahead of things for me. I knew she wasn’t playing when she literally followed me to the second bathroom with my necessities in her hands and closed the door behind me once I was secured inside. As I turned on the shower water, I could faintly hear music being skimmed through. Of course. She rarely, if ever, gets ready without it.

“Do you need help with your cuff links?” In the half an hour I’d spent under the shower head drowning in my thoughts, she further transformed her already sublime appearance and entranced me in her usual manner. Her loosely curled and wavy hair fell over her shoulders in such a full and grand manner while my eyes panned over the make up she’d done on her face. Usually, she keeps it natural looking but this evening, she opted to create some sort of a silvery, muted grey, and maybe even black look over and slightly around her eyes. Everything else was natural, including her nude colored lips, but her eyes were dark and attention grabbing. She’d found a way to not only enhance but to brighten the sage green that I’m obsessed with. Her enthralling beauty should be illegal. It’s graceful and yet the most tantalizing thing ever.

“Thank you.” Once they were in her hands, she carefully secured what was apart of her birthday gift to me on the cuffs of my sleeves and then properly straightened my black cocktail jacket. The floral jacquard print certainly isn’t my taste but she saw something in it that she liked and persuaded me into making it my option for the evening. She also is the reason I’m wearing a white shirt instead of going with black in it’s entirety for every piece I’m wearing. The white is to compliment whatever jumpsuit or pants contraption I’m going to assume is being covered by her robe.

“Are you excited?” Her head swayed from side to side as sound of The O’Jays stimulated and serenaded her soul. I nodded to answer her question and untied the loose knot binding her robe together and allowed it to fall open to reveal what was under it. The suspense was killing me and the revelation completed the job. The angelic white against her sun kissed skin served like a piece of the heavens gracefully laying upon the earth. As I glanced over it’s left half, my eyes helplessly bulged at the intricacies of the thin material looping and intersecting to prevent the slipping of her nipple while revealing quite a bit of the skin of her upper body. The jumpsuit teeters the fine line between sexy and risqué and yet she in all of her grace made it tasteful and alluring. My hand grazed over her amusing Lil’ Kim inspired moment and I mimicked Diana Ross in my own manner by giving her breast a subtle squeeze.

“It’s Versace Atelier and it’s old. I dug this out of one of those garment bags lying around my parent’s basement and decided to bring it because I’ve never worn it. Hell, I’m surprised the white hasn’t faded into that awful yellowish color.”

“You look so damn good.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. You’re stunning.” Somehow in the midst of our speaking, I joined her in the swaying back and forth. To further it, I pulled her closer by her hips and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Oh?” One of her arms slid up until it was draped over the back of my neck and I grabbed the other to lace our fingers together. “You can slow dance too? Well aren’t I lucky.”

“There are a lot of things that I can do. Only for you though.” In all of the times that I’ve done this, it’s always and only been with one woman; my mother. If I’d be within her view while she and Richard’s favorite oldies blared from the speakers around the house, she’d wrapped me up into her arms while the both of them attempted to teach me how to woo a woman with their fraudulent love. It was their way of paying some sort of attention to me and fooling themselves into believing they were being hands on parents. I remember this song being played amongst her favorites on those Saturday mornings when she’d actually have Richard all to herself.

“This was my parents wedding song.”

“Really?” She nodded and slowly ran her hand over the back of my head. “Good choice.”

“It is.” Our lips met with a soft peck. “I got you a congratulatory gift, with help from a friend.”

“Did you? What did you get?” I heard her discussing some sort of surprise with Mike but I didn’t think it was for me. She carefully worded everything she spoke about in order to conceal the receivers name, so instead of being nosy, I summed it up to being something for one of her relatives.

“I’ll give it to you when the songs over. I believe you’ll like it. It’s for your office at your apartment. I feel like it needs a pop of color and this will do it.” A painting? Granted that I love art, I could imagine her figuring out some kind of way to incorporate some of my favorite artists into maybe a collage or poster for the wall. Maybe it’s a sculpture or some type of mosaic fixture. Maybe it’s a photo of us on one of our many trips that we’ve taken. Actually, I hope it’s that. I’ve been meaning to have something printed up, so I could hang it up in the living room. I’ve even considered it just being her. There’s this one particular photo of her standing in front of the Eiffel Tower that I’m in love with.

“Give me a hint.”

“Hmm. Vino.”

“Vino? What the hell is that?” Her eyes widened as the song slowly faded out and she cocked her head back in surprise.

“Seriously? Hmm. I’m going to have to question just how much of a fan you are now.” Once she was out of my arms, she hurriedly went into the closet and rummaged around for what she was looking for. With excitement, she unfolded the all too familiar yellow, purple, and gold Jersey for me to see.

“Vino. As in Kobe. Doesn’t he always say that?” My laughter followed her question.

“Yeah, that’s some nickname he gave himself. I don’t call him that shit. He’s been and will always be Bean to me.”

“I’m sure you have one of these, don’t you?”

“A jersey. Yeah. I have two.” I didn’t say it to rain on her parade because I’m appreciative either way.

“But are they signed?” She slowly turned it around so I’d see the back and there, in bold black marker, was Kobe Bryant’s famous signature sitting inside of the four of his twenty four jersey number.

“Are you serious?” I didn’t hesitate to grab it out of her hands to examine the signature and it certainly was there. I swore one of these days I’d run into him and get something signed, but it’s never happened. I’m not one of those people who shows their face at events for the sake of faux popularity or to feel like I fit in amongst certain circles. Outside of attending a couple of games over the years, I’ve yet to meet and converse with him. With his retirement looming, I already had plans to make it happen at All Star and here my lady is, ahead of the game.

“Mhm. I have both his number eight and the twenty four signed. The other one is in there too. Thank God for Heather. I gave them to her the last time she was in town and she pulled it off. I figure I’ll get frames for them and hang them up for you. You like it?” My answer was a kiss. We’re not even in an unspoken gift competition because she’s winning by a landslide. Her efforts have yet to be anything less than impressive and meaningful. She makes it a genuine effort to keep a smile on my face no matter what either one of us are dealing with and I’ve never had that outside of the three people in my life that I call my real family. Her love, much like theirs, is one that I’ve never had to question. I see it in the way she stares at me, I feel it in her touch, and she showers me in it with her actions.

“I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Let me get into my shoes so we can get going.” I snuck another kiss and carefully placed the jersey down on the bed. Within minutes, Stacey will be calling and yelling about my lagging so I’d rather hurry up and get out of the door before she rips my head off with no regard.

“I’ll be moving around a lot tonight, but I’ll make my way back to you whenever I can, alright?”

“I know. No worries.”

No worries is how I pray things will continue to be tonight.

I had absolutely nothing to do with the guest list nor did I ask any questions. That’s Fredrick’s expertise and his streak certainly continues tonight. His knack for drawing in a celebrity presence never fails to impress me and yet I do not see him hanging amongst any of these people. He’s an architect and even so, his phone book is filled with some of the biggest names in multiple entertainment industries and the list continues to grow. Whether it’s his suave personality and the way he works a room or his undeniable charm that woos the panties off of women within minutes, it works to his advantage because they gravitate to him like flies on shit whenever he’s within their presence. It’s no different tonight as we welcomed guests and mingled from table to table to politely welcome all in attendance to our cuisine experience. I know they say it’s not about what you know but rather who you know, but he takes that quotable to a level that I don’t believe I can reach. Shit, I don’t want to. Though we tend to shy away from using investors, that’s my lane, along with the negotiating. Mike? All legal. He makes sure everything has the appropriate legitimacy and is within legal standing to be successfully executed. Stacey’s the follow up and back up. If we miss something, she’s sure to catch it. The fake ass Calvin Klein model that is Fred can have the networking portion of it. The most interesting part about it tonight is Erica being by his side as he does it.

Yeah, he’s going to marry her.

“Yo. Did you see this?” As I stood near the entrance of the kitchen, Mike passed me his phone and I skimmed over the headline of the Forbes article. “Effective Immediately: A&M Longtime Partner and Investor Rick Malone Steps Down.”

A lump formed in the middle of my throat at the thought of such a reality and what it potentially means for no one else other than myself. Rick and I have had a long and upstanding relationship with one another that stems back to my childhood. He’s watched me become a man and a pivotal part of the company. He held me in high regard and though I’d shun it, he often used words like progressive and the future when speaking of me in board meetings and negotiations. He would have told me something like this is coming whether it be in person or through a phone call. I’d been the first person he reached out to when everything went down with his son and I did everything in my power to reverse that decision and the tension that brewed before and exploded after it. At the time, I was no match for Richard’s stubbornness and his revolting hunger to have me in a position of power right under him. This has his name written all over it and it’s sudden nature fueled the once dormant fears that have been budding within the pit of my stomach and tormenting my mind for the past couple of months.

“It’s interesting.”

“He’s coming tonight. Your father that is.” He shot me a glance as I passed his phone back to him. I’d already known that before Stacey could shoot me a warning. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to show his face as a prideful father to a son he believes he built better than anyone elses’. This is his element. He’s the giant in every room and the snake when backs are turned.

“I know.”

“You told Autumn?”

“I told her it was a possibility yesterday. I didn’t necessarily confirm it. She wants to meet them. From my point of view, I don’t understand why but I’m not going to stand in her way.”

“You sure?” In unison, our eyes panned over to Autumn who was standing at the restaurant’s bar with a glass of wine in her possession and giggling along side Stacey. If I had it my way, she’d go downstairs ahead of me because I know they have no intention to step into a nightclub, but I’d rather not blindside or hide her. I’ll never do that.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” He wouldn’t question me any further. If it were anything else, it would have been a small interrogation happening on the spot, but when it comes to this particular situation he remains short and straight to the point as I prefer it.

I remember when we were working on opening up the New York City location. Though it was quite a bit of a struggle to balance, the excitement within me was the endless adrenaline rush I needed to multitask A&M and our project equally. We spent years talking about opening up a restaurant and a nightclub so to see it coming to fruition had easily turned that year into one of the best ones of my life. It wasn’t myself who told Richard and Elizabeth about it over a Sunday dinner, it was Matthew. While preparing for a conference call, I’d been on the phone with our contractor trying to figure out why our budget was increasing by another hundred thousand dollars within a day. Had it been something trivial, I would have hung up the phone and handled it another time, but I couldn’t and I allowed him in on what was supposed to be quietly kept on my end. I damn near thought we were going to have a genuine brother to brother moment when he assured me that not only was he proud of me, but also that he’d keep it to himself, but I shouldn’t have known better. Like a gossiping school girl, he blurted it out days later and left what was dear to me out on the table to be critiqued and damn near ripped to shreds by the two people I didn’t want to hear it from. For my mother, her curiosity about my being interested in the culinary and nightclub industry held hints of condescending amusement. She quickly called me a hermit crab who never leaves his shell and wondered why I’d ever put myself out there to be the often times awkward person she knows me to be. For Richard, his agenda was about his pockets, nothing more or less. He damn near nagged about the potential for it to be one huge distraction and it not being as profitable as what I’m doing at A&M. According to him, I needed to focus on expansion of the business that was built by actual family instead of a pipe dream venture with my friends because I’m a grown man and should know better than to get into business with friends. That evening worsened the trend of myself either barging out or leaving those dinners earlier than expected. A Sunday dinner in my apartment while I bask in solitude has given me far more peace than that bullshit.

In those early teen years, I wanted an Uncle Phil or a Carl Winslow kind of father. Shit, I would even take the headstrong James Evans. I wanted a Claire Huxtable maternal figure who understood what it took to be nurturing, understanding, and stern all at once. Television is scripted and often times unrealistic depending upon the program, but I knew that there was realism trickled in those family oriented shows. My friends have that. Their parents didn’t ship them off to boarding school when their screw ups continued to have a plague like affect on everyone around them. Shit, even the kids at that school had normal relationships with their parents. I could of had it at some point. My uncle wanted me. He’d even gone as far as assuring them that it didn’t even have to be an official adoption. Richard’s ego and his underhanded competition with him nipped that in the bud immediately. Besides, they’d already had plans to send me to London prior to him even asking. While away, I didn’t become cold. I had no interest in becoming hardened and completely shut down because of my circumstances. I adjusted and raised myself. I became knowledgeable and cultured by living and analyzing the success, failures, and mishaps of others. I don’t look at myself as bitter. I’m indifferent and I’ve outgrown that yearning to be the son who they accept and actually want. Now, I’d just prefer they stay the fuck out of my face.

“Hey.” I could feel the smoothness of Autumns hands touching my face and interrupting my thoughts. I’d lost track of how long I’d been lingering behind.

“Did I tell you how proud I am of you?” Only about a dozen or more times since our arrival. Her gasps, squeals, and raving hadn’t stopped. If she were trying to make me any more big-headed about all of this, my head should’ve exploded an hour or two ago.

“Did I tell you how much that means to me?” I drew her body in for a hug and a kiss to her forehead. She could tell me all night if she pleases. It’ll never grow old.

“I’m so proud of you. I really am. I keep looking around and I’m in awe of everything you all put into this. The ambiance is beyond anything that I could’ve ever imagined and you all have outdone yourselves. No matter what you’re doing, that brilliant mind yours finds a way to take it to the next level every single time. You don’t give yourself enough credit so I’m going to drown you in it. I’m inspired.”

“The inspiration is inspired. I suppose that’s fair enough. Thank you.”

“You kill me with all of that.”

“What? That you inspire me? You do. It’s the most important kind of inspiration. You inspire and influence who I am as a human being; as a man.” Her finger tips grazed the back of my tingling neck and those intoxicating eyes stared into mine. Though I know my words didn’t go unheard, the manner in which she stared was beyond them. Her lips fell agape and her eyes brightened and softened within an instant.

“You’re so beautiful.” My surroundings morphed into nothingness as I basked in the feeling of her words and the caressing of her hands. I don’t know how much more deeper in love I can fall. I don’t have any parts of my body and mind that aren’t already synced to her every word and movement. She fills my dreams as I sleep and is who I reach for when the slumber is over. Her scent follows me everywhere I go, no matter the setting. I am captivated. I want her and I have her. I have a school boy crush on a woman who supersedes women who have graced films, music videos, or magazines. I’m enamored, smitten, besotted…all of it. I’d marry her tomorrow if she were ready for it. That would be my greatest accomplishment thus far and then our children would come along and further enhance that. I want nothing more than for us to be one of those couples who spent all of our lives together and then I want to die first, because she has the strength to live on without me. I can’t say the same for myself. I’m okay with a lot things in my life being temporary, but not this. This can’t be that.

“Can I borrow her for a photo please? ” Before I could protest it, Stacey was pulling Autumn out of my arms and hauling her back to the bar for whatever photo op moment she and Erica were concocting. I’m not sure if it was planned, but they looked like the black Charlie’s Angels in their white and silver attire. Of course, Mike jumping into the middle of their moment made himself Charlie. He can’t help himself and we all love him for it.

The live jazz band for tonight’s opening was a last minute pull through. The lighting needed a soundtrack behind it and nothing else could have done it like live instrumentation filling the atmosphere with vivacious and somber medleys. It’s what separates the two expressions of nightlight we’re presenting this evening. Aside from my love, it serves as a secondary soother for the tension smoldering me.

An all too familiar medley drew my attention to Autumn and we instantly locked eyes with small smirks tugging at our lips. The mesh of Ellington’s piano and Coltrane’s tenor saxophone painted a vivid picture of us and though our mental imagery may not be of the same experiences we’ve had together thus far, I know that she too has us on her mind. We are the notes, tone, and mood. We are the key. We are the words the sultry Ella Fitzgerlad’s sang.

“Sir.” The hostess was careful not to step into my line of view but she came close enough for me to see her out of the corner of my eyes.

“Yes?”

“We’ve seated Mr. and Mrs. St. James. They’re requesting your presence at their table.” My exhale was through my nose. Though I’ve known about their decision to come, I still quietly held an optimism that they wouldn’t give enough of a damn to take a five hour flight to Los Angeles in order to further exasperate me more than they already do.

“Thank you. Have a glass of Glenfiddich 1977 sent to Mr. St. James and a glass of Richebourg Grand Cru from Cote de Nuit sent to his wife.” My request for some of the most expensive wine and scotch we have wasn’t for brownie points. Richard would have ordered it himself without ever skimming through the drink menu either way, so I chose to handle it on my own. My next move was to lure Autumn away from Stacey.

“Give me your jacket.” My eyebrows flew up at her request as she fiddled with the ends of her hair and eventually tossed them behind her.

“For what?”

“I can’t meet your parents in this. I didn’t even think of that. You made it seem it was a toss up whether they’d be here or not. I should’ve just worn the dress.” Her nerves were worse than mine and had I not already been unnerved by all of this, I would have laughed because that confidence and slick mouth disappeared. This is all her idea and she was so assured in wanting it to happen and now that the moment is here, she’s damn near sweating.

“What’s wrong with it? You’re grown. I’m grown. I like it. You look classy in it. There’s no need to cover it.”

“Give me your jacket.”

“No.”

“Dante.” Once I had her hand in mine, I laced our fingers. Though I took the lead, she closely followed behind instead of stubbornly standing in place and sparking a back and forth spat over something so ridiculous. The calling of my name didn’t cease until we were within inches of the table that held enough prestige to have two guests who I don’t even know standing and shamelessly fawning over the pompous egomaniac sitting along side his wife. The manner in which she ogled over him while he boasted about me nearly made me turn around.

“Excuse me. There’s my boy.” Surprisingly, he stood to his feet and stepped around the table for a proper greeting. I tower over him and even so, I could sense Autumn taking a step back in clear intimidation. His conniving glare panned in her direction and locked on her frame. He scrutinized her physical appearance with a number of head to toe glances and turned to me with a sly smirk.

“I would have beat his ass too.” His laughter was lone. I have a feeling he’d been waiting for this moment just for that joke. Their interest in her heightened when Matthew and I came to blows and he warned me that she better had been worth attacking my own flesh and blood over while my mother whined to meet her. Now as she swiftly moves to stand beside him, the cheerful smile on her faces proves that she’s satisfied.

“Hello.”

Autumn stepped up until she was standing along side me and reached her hand out for his own. With no hesitation, he latched his on to hers and brought her hand up to his lips for a kiss.

Strike one.

“Hello. I’m Autumn. It’s very nice to meet you Mr. St. James and you as well Mrs. St. James.” When her hand was no longer within his grip, she immediately reached over and shook my mother’s, who was staring at her as if she were a rare object or some sort of a mythical being.

“Oh, Autumn. It’s so nice to finally meet you. You’re stunning.”

“Thank you. A compliment from someone as beautiful as yourself means a lot. I see where you get your looks from.” Autumn turned and smiled at me. I had no choice but to forcefully smile back. I don’t see it. Though I’ve never met the man, photos show me that I share a close resemblance to her father.

“He does look a lot like his mother doesn’t he? He has her looks and my brain. A perfect mixture I’d say.”

“So would I.” Bullshit.

“So where did you two meet?” And the questions began. I thought that typically happens with teen relationships. Autumn’s parents didn’t even ask me that question. Then again, it’s probably because they already knew.

“Through work. I work for my older brother’s companies, Blue Star and Meridian. I’m currently a corporate flight attendant and we crossed paths in that manner.”

“Really? What an interesting way to meet.” Though I have no intention to verbally pounce on my mother tonight, if she dares to say anything condescending, I’m going to embarrass her. The manner in which Autumn and I met will never compare to her intrusion on someone else’s marriage for the sake of self gain.

“So you two didn’t know one another prior to your divorce with the NBA guy? My son didn’t woo you away from him right?”

Strike two.

“Oh, no. Not at all. We met prior to my divorce, but my ex-husband and I were separated for about two years before we divorced one another. He’d already moved on with his life romantically and even created a life before Dante and I met.” She didn’t flinch nor shrink at his shrewd questions. Her answers were just as swift and straight to the point as his blunt questions were.

“Why did you two divorce?”

“Does that matter?” I chimed in to end it all because there was no purpose for what he’d been asking. They could have divorced for the most trivial or pointless reasons and it wouldn’t matter within this moment. Is she asking why he left his first wife to die while he had an affair with the woman standing beside him?

“It’s okay. We divorced due to irreconcilable differences. He wasn’t happy anymore and he wanted out.”

“You two had no children.”

“By choice.” Her tone wasn’t as lighthearted as before. What he implied was far worse than him treading into a sensitive territory.

“Enough. This isn’t a background check.”

“It’s okay.” She gave my hand a squeeze of assurance. “They’re just questions.”

“Well you’re happy now right? That’s truly all that matters.” The genuine smiles between both women cut some of the enmity down between she and Richard. This time it was my mother who reached for her hand and gave it a maternal like caress.

“I am. Life is better and this guy certainly plays a part in that.” Her arm wrapped around my waist and she leaned into me to express that sentiment.

“That’s so nice to hear. I’ve always known that any woman who has my son in her life is a woman who should be considered lucky. He’s a gentlemen and upstanding guy. It’s why I continue to be so proud of him.” I didn’t mean to snicker but I did and it put a damper on everything. The smile on her face fell into the pursing of her lips and her once gleaming eyes turned solemn. She’s proud of what she doesn’t get credit for. How can I not laugh? Autumn knows enough to know that this isn’t a normal happy family moment. Every St. James who is standing in this small huddle knows this is nothing more than showmanship. She’s just taking it up way too many notches.

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Indeed you are, son.” Richard raised his glass of scotch and poured every bit of it down his throat. “Take a walk with me.”

“I’ll keep Autumn company while you do that. I’d love to know more about her.” Before I could protest, Autumn obliged her suggestion by taking a seat at the table and giving me a nod to walk away.

“Follow me.”

Whatever’s on his mind has to be about business and I know what it entails. He’s been pushing to acquire more Hollywood clientele and I’m not the man for the job. I passed off the Calvin Harris account as quickly as I could and I’d do it with every single one we acquire. I’m a negotiator and closer. I only deal with personalities for a specific time frame. Personal PR and marketing work is exactly that, up close and personal. I have no interest in obliging a person’s unpredictable requests while quietly being a victim to their personality traits. I don’t want to build celebrities. The entertainment industry is a silent murderer and I don’t want any parts of physically or mentally ruining anyone for the sake of self gain. That’s Matthew’s talent. Let him handle that.

“Your flight attendant? She knows and is apart of your every move now. You’re going to get tired of that and her. You do know that right?”

“What the fuck happened with Rick?” Autumn was nice enough to answer his questions. I’m not.

“Fuck Rick. He’s been bullshitting ever since I brought forth how much his son wasn’t bringing a damn thing to the table and yet was making a seven figure salary. He makes everything personal and who the fuck has time for that when you’re trying to run a damn near billion dollar enterprise? He’s been pissed ever since and had been talking about how he wanted out behind the scenes. I just helped him relieve his misery. I’m going to buy him out and that will be done with. We don’t fucking need him anyway.”

“He helped you build that company from the ground up.”

“And he was willing to bring it down.”

“How do you not expect a man to defend his son?”

“And what do you think I’m doing right now? I’m not worrying about anyone elses’ sons but my own. I’m protecting my family. I’m keeping a roof over the heads of my family. I’ll be damned if I allow another man to take the food off of the tables of my children and my wife. A&M is mine. I am solely responsible for the idea and the brand. He came in to help me execute what I’d already began to formulate. Don’t ever mistake our partnership for it being some shit that we brainstormed together. He was never mistaken about that, he just wanted it to be implied because that’s what white motherfuckers do. This country was built on white people standing on the backs of people who look like us and taking credit for our shit. That’s not going to happen me. That’s not going to happen to my sons.”

“And you think creating an enemy with someone who knows the ins and outs of the company is a good thing? That man was your friend. Hell, I call him uncle.”

“A wise man once said the man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.”

“Whoever said that must be as fucked up in the head as you are.” His laughter was boisterous and brazen. The smug expression on his face matched his stance.

“Congratulations on all of this son. It’s impressive. You haven’t allowed this to get in the way of what we’ve built. Keep that trend going when it comes to who you’re fucking around with in that bed of yours.” He stepped around me to return to their table but stopped briefly midway. “And send me another glass of that scotch.”

I got my drink, I got my music, I would share it but today I'm yelling…

Kendrick Lamar’s performance controlled the energy of the crowd and their response to him felt like we were inside of the Staples Center instead of surrounded by golden interior and floating bottles of champagne. Snoop Dog’s presence as the most overqualified hype man revved up the energy even more. I’d been in and out of the office since coming down here not only to look over paper work and the successes of the night, but mostly because I needed space to think. The need for it seemed to be mutual because Autumn hadn’t invaded mine and didn’t complain or send for me to invade hers. Instead, she sat at the bar and basked in the moment while every bit of the male energy in the room gravitated her way in some sort of manner. From the moment Richard walked away from me, I’d only exchanged goodbyes with them after covering their dinner and bidding my mother an empty promise of having brunch with her tomorrow at noon. Though she offered, she knows I won’t show up. It’s simply a call for a healing and maybe one day it’ll happen, but it’s not tonight or tomorrow. It’ll happen when she’s ready because though I’m not a perfect man and I have my shortcomings, the strain in our relationship is her sin.

“Tired?” My lips grazed the warmth of her ear and I looked on as she watched who she considers to be one of her favorite artists of this generation.

“No.”

“I want you to take a ride with me when the night is over.”

“I can do that.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Since when do you ask?” She turned her head and sweetly pressed her lips onto mine; the lingering on my bottom lip enticed a tightening in the pit of my stomach.

As we leaned against one another, we looked on as our special guests of the evening musically tore the place down. Eventually, what we deemed to be our L.A. Crew joined us at the bar, and we looked on with cocktails of our choice in hand. We’d done enough for the evening. All that had been left to do was enjoy the fruits of our labor and we did so, until our three a.m. closing time.

“Where are you taking me that has had us in this backseat for an hour? And then what are these hills? I do like to run, but I’m not a hiking kind of a girl, especially not in heels.” Our cuddling and lip locking session had come to an end when she sat up and looked out the window in an attempt to figure out our surroundings.

“Also we don't have to make out in a car. We have an amazing suite we can do that in…while naked.” She didn't join me in laughter. Instead she cut her eyes and awaited an explanation.

“You’ll see in about two minutes.” Her stubborn huff furthered the amusement and my caressing of her thigh did nothing to soothe that. It wasn’t until the driver brought the vehicle to a halt that she relaxed and once again turned to me to await an explanation.

“There’s water down there. Is this Malibu?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t wait for the driver to open my door. I did it myself and hopped out of the backseat with an impatient Autumn coming right behind me. She turned in a complete circle to give herself an panoramic view of the entire property. Her gesture reminded me of myself the first time I stood out here in the midst of nothing other than the view. I gazed at the sea for over an hour as daydreams of a future here washed over me one after the other. I envisioned my home and every single intricacy about it. It differed from my original design and yet surpassed it in beauty. Whenever I’m in L.A, I take a ride here and render myself to speechlessness in knowing that it now exists.

“This is the house.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t move. She stared and marveled at it’s Mediterranean style while two hundred and seventy degree views of rolling hills and ocean surrounded it. Though my apartment is very modern, I opted for a vintage style of design here because I wanted it to give the illusion of being timeless and lived in. It needed to be a place that aged with me rather than something that’ll make me feel like I’m going through a midlife crisis within the next ten to fifteen years. The pavers, French oak floors, and mahogany doors were all personally picked out by me and it was a lengthy process in finding exactly what I wanted. Though Stacey and I argued on it being three, it’s a two story home because I don’t want or need anything more than that. I didn’t want a mansion and I don’t consider this to be that despite the six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

It’s just home.

“This is breathtaking.”

“You want to go inside?”

“We can?”

“Well, it is my house.” My sarcastic response earned a light punch to my shoulder. I had to keep up with her as she swiftly made her way to the door and awaited my next move. As I unlocked it, she awaited my invitation for her entry and I was left to turn on the lights as she quietly examined every hall and the rooms that led off from them. She had no questions for me or criticisms about my choice of interior design. Everything was a polar opposite from New York. The blackened interior of my apartment was a reflection of the city’s nightlife and the vibrancy here balanced out with the ocean and true blue skies.

“Is every part of the house fully furnished?”

“No, not yet. There are two or three rooms left behind that need to be done. There’s also an office that has to be done.”

“How many rooms?”

“Six bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Ten thousand, one hundred, and thirty five square feet.”

“Wow.”

“Come through here.” We returned to the grand foyer and walked straight through the main sitting room. I opened one of the doors and her gasp nearly startled me as we stepped out on the trellised patio and into the illuminated back of the house. The nearly two acres of impeccably landscaped grounds contains the pool, a lighted basketball court, a tennis court that I’m never going to use and will probably turn into something else, and multiple sitting areas for entertainment purposes. There’s enough room back here for a barbecue or a huge family gathering. It’s perfect for birthday parties and whatever else can possibly be celebrated. Whenever Mike and Fredrick come out to visit, I know we’ll spend most of our time out here with cognac, good music, and card games at night and rounds of basketball during the day. Stacey and all of her diva antics will lay pool side and relax while I enjoy time with my God daughter.

“This place is a dream.”

“That’s a perfect one word description.”

The lighting from the pool and the glimmering stars faintly illuminated the white covering her body as she walked across the yard and eventually stopped to glance at the horizon. She became lost in the rhythmic percussion of the light waves as they rolled toward the sandy coastline and fizzled out.

“I can see why this is home for you.” She didn’t break her gaze away from what would soon be irradiated with orange hued rays of the sunrise. “This is the place where you’re most at peace.”

“It is.” My head nodded with the response. “I plan to be here permanently in a year.”

“A year? What happened to two or three?”

“In looking at it, I’ve realize how much that’s just wasted and stalled time. I’m ready. It’s what I need to be a peace with myself more than anything else.”

“I’m glad you realize that. You need to put what you want and deserve first, at all times. You work too hard and give too much to not do that. I’m sure things will be different because everyone you love is on the east coast, but that’s what planes are for right?”

“They’re coming.”

“What?” It was then that she turned her head and gave me her full attention.

“Skidmore, Owings, & Merrill LLP is a global firm. Fredrick can be wherever he pleases. Mike passed the bar exam out here years ago. He’s also considering not having any ties to a particular firm. He’s seeking his own practice and he has enough clientele to pull that off without sweating.”

“And Stacey?

“When I began building this place, she threatened that I wouldn’t be leaving her behind. I know her husband wouldn’t jump for joy at the thought of her wanting to move out here just to continue working with me and I’m okay with that. She has a family and I’d never ask her to sacrifice that for me, though I believe somehow someway she’s going to find her way here.” My chuckle was lighthearted and yet gloomy. I can’t imagine walking out of my office and not having her there to insult or scold me about something. It feels like she’s been around all my life even though that’s not the case.

“It’ll be hard for you to leave her behind.”

“I’m not leaving her behind. That’s my sister. Distance doesn’t stop us from being family.”

“True.”

Her gaze returned to the water.

“What about me?” That’s a question that I didn’t expect her to ask and it’s not because I’m afraid to answer it. She should already know the answer.

“I’d like to think you know me well enough to know that I didn’t bring you here to just show this to you. I could have shown you pictures a long time ago.”

“I know.”

“I know you’re not going to allow me to put a diamond on your finger right now but I want you to know that I want you here. I want to share this with you.”

“And what am I going to share with you? You’ve already shared so much with me.”

“Everything that you share with me now. More will come later.”

The shadows of the sun began to bleed through and filter out the deep blue of the skyline. A gust of air washed over me and the warmth of Autumn’s body meshing into my own interrupted it’s coolness. Her lips pressed into my neck and trickled their way from the back to it’s chill coated side.

“Okay.”

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