#Yes the chrissy wake up shit was kind of annoying

[lpsgirl109]

So now that it's been a while, as funny as it was to see the mass obsession over local loserish white boy #54836372 Eddie Munson, i can't help but feel like the extreme hate fans of him received is just another case of men shaming women for their latest shared interest.

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Four

summary: Christine’s neighbor comes to check on her, which makes it hard to avoid her problems. word count: 4.5k warnings: n/a [ masterlist ] [ FF.net ]

If this was what a hangover felt like, Christine vowed she was never going to drink again.��

The end of the night was a smudge of memories—crying on the sidewalk, stumbling through the door, collapsing onto the couch. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her shoes before falling asleep. Her arms felt numb where the denim jacket cut off her circulation, and she knew that the throw pillows were leaving unsightly creases in her face. But she was too tired to move. 

The only idea that seemed tempting was a trip to the bathroom. At the moment, it felt like she’d sustained a gaping wound in the lining of her stomach, and gastric acid was flooding her body, disintegrating her organs as it went. She wasn’t sure if vomiting would help. It certainly wasn’t going to help her head, which was pounding like she’d never felt before. 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

“Hey! Hellooo in there! Rise and shine, Walcott! Wake up!” 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

“Hello?! I know you can hear me! Christine? Hey, Chrissy!” 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

Christine groaned, pressing her face farther into the pillow. She was relieved that the pounding wasn’t just her head, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to kill the person knocking on the door. 

“Go away,” she grumbled. “I’m up! Just go away!” 

“No can do,” the voice called through the wall. “Come on! Up and at ‘em! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey! I’m not leaving!” 

The banging resumed once more, twice as persistent now that she was definitely awake. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom… 

“Shut up! Fine! I’m coming!” 

Christine forced her body upright, and every nerve screamed in agony. She clutched her head, waiting for the tilt-a-whirl that was her living room to come to a halt. Then she dragged herself to her feet and stomped to the front door. She threw it wide open with a death glare set on her face. 

“See? I’m awake. Go home.” 

“Woah,” said the boy on the stoop, grabbing the door before she could shut him out. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks, Dustin. Go home.” 

“No can do. I told you. You didn’t check in yesterday, so Mom sent me to make sure you’re alive.” 

“Well, I’m alive. And it’s…” She leaned back to glance at the living room clock. “Jesus! It’s eight o’clock! In the morning!” 

“Yeah? It’s also really cold! Are you gonna let me in or what?” 

Christine huffed, and threw a hand up in exasperation. Dustin mimicked her, waving his arms over his head and side-stepping her to get into the house. She smacked his hat off in retaliation, which he was only just able to recover. 

“What are you doing up, anyway?” Christine asked, closing the front door. “Kind of early for a Sunday.” 

Dustin rounded on her with his arms over his chest. “Is it early? Or were you just up too late?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“That’s right. What were you doing getting home so late?” 

“Well, what were you doing up so late?” 

“Well, what were you…?” He trailed off, realizing that she had him. Then he shrugged. “I was reading. New X-Men comic came out last week.” 

“Okay. Well, I was coming home from a party.” 

“And I’m up because it’s campaign day. I’m on my way to Mike’s. You wanna come?” 

Christine frowned, her memories of the previous night becoming clearer. “Uh…no. Not this time, buddy.” 

“Is it because you’re drunk?” 

“Oh ha, ha. I’m not drunk. I’m…hungover.” 

Dustin grinned, jabbing a finger at her. “You need fluids.” 

He marched into the kitchen without invitation. Christine went to roll her eyes, only to find that somehow hurt. She pinched the bridge of her nose and trailed behind him. Taking a seat on a stool at the counter, she watched him bustle around. 

“Not to be a downer, Dust, but I don’t really think more liquid is the solution here.” 

“Nope!” he said cheerily. “Alcohol dehydrates you, which is why you need to drink water. And you need to eat, to soak up all the nasty shit in your stomach.” 

He slammed a box of Cheerios in front of her, along with a glass of water, and slid them across the counter. 

“You should also take some aspirin. But I don’t know where you keep that.” 

“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” she groaned, grabbing the glass. Dustin, however, didn’t move. “...Well?” 

“What, you want me to get it? What am I, your dad?” 

“Of course.” Christine shook her head with a grudging smile. “Thanks, Dustin.” 

“You got it.” 

She grabbed the box of cereal, plunging her hand unceremoniously into its depths rather than wait for a bowl. “Where’d you learn all that stuff anyway?” 

“Anti-drug assembly. You probably had one too. You’re just too drunk to remember.” 

“Not drunk,” she corrected, offering him the box. “Hungover.” 

“Whatever.” He stuffed a handful of Cheerios into his mouth, and continued. “Wha’ par-ee were you ah? You didn’ sah ahneethin to me ‘bout it.” 

“Yeah, it—it was sorta a last minute thing.” 

“Sorra?” 

“Yeah. What about it?” 

Dustin gulped, fixing her with a suspicious stare. “So what does that mean, ‘sorta’?” 

Christine suffered through the pain to roll her eyes. 

 “It means someone asked me about it when I was at work.” 

“Was this someone a dude?” 

“Dustin…” 

“Was his name Steve Harrington?” 

“God, you’re annoying.” 

“Well? Was it?” 

“Yes,” she groaned, leaning back on her stool. “Yes, it was Steve Harrington. Are you happy?” 

“Um, obviously,” said Dustin, grinning. “I don’t know why you’re not.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Well, Steve Harrington asked you out,” he said, raising his voice an octave at Steve’s name. “Mr. Perfect Steve Harrington who you’ve been obsessed with for like, ever. I’d figured you’d be over the moon. What’s your damage?” 

“It’s nothing,” Christine sighed, propping her elbows on the counter and laying her chin in her hand. “Just girl problems.” 

“Girl problems like emotional drama or girl problems like body stuff?” 

“Dustin!” 

“What?” he asked, holding up his hands defensively. “It’s a valid question!” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“What did I just say?” 

Dustin jumped back, and Christine instantly regretted snapping at him. But there was some sick satisfaction that came with the silence. He didn’t push her. He just frowned at the cereal box and scuffed his sneakers against the floor. 

Christine turned away, busying herself with the glass of water he’d poured for her. Even after one sip, she felt a little better. Stupid psychosomatic crap. 

“I heard you crying.” Dustin was kicking the baseboard idly, avoiding her gaze. “When you came home last night. That’s why I came to check on you.” 

She bit back a sigh. Annoying as he could be, Dustin always meant well. It was one of the reasons it was nearly impossible to stay mad at him. 

“I’m fine, Dustin,” Christine said softly. “I promise.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to egg his house?” 

“No, Dustin.” 

“Are you sure? Cause I really wanna egg his house.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s…It’s not his fault anyway. Not really.” 

She was hoping that they could leave it at that. But of course, with Dustin there were never any open-ended conclusions. His curiosity always needed to be sated. So he stared at her expectantly until she conceded. 

“It’s nothing. He just doesn’t like me. Not like that.” 

“If he doesn’t like you, why did he invite you to the party?” 

“Um…well, I guess he was hoping someone else would come with me.” 

“Who?” 

This time it was Christine who stared pointedly at Dustin. A look of comprehension dawned on his face, and his mouth dropped into a small oh. 

“So that’s why you don’t want to come to D&D.” 

“Yeah. And considering I ditched crying when I saw her making out with Steve, I doubt she wants to see me either.” 

“Gross.” 

Christine wiped her hands down her face, as if she might be able to remove her problems like a mask. “Look, I don’t want you talking about this with the party. The last thing I need is the four of you gossiping in the basement about Nancy and me.” 

“Hey, I’ll be cool,” he said innocently. “Scout’s honor.” 

“You’re not a boy scout.” 

“Bard’s honor.” 

“Slim at best.” 

“Well now you’re just being rude. And for that, I’m taking your Pop Tarts.” 

“No!” 

Christine lunged forward, but Dustin was faster. He swept the entire box of pastries off the counter, ran round the other side, and bolted into the living room. It didn’t take long to catch up. She grabbed him round the middle just before he got to the front door, and hoisted him up into the air. Dustin squealed, kicking his legs desperately as he tried to wriggle out of her grasp. 

“Let go of me! Put me down! This is child abuse! Child abuse!” 

“You’re child abuse,” Christine grunted. She placed him back on the ground, and wrenched the Pop Tarts out of his hands. “Gimme that. You can have one package. That’s it.” 

Dustin stuck his tongue out at her, but accepted the snack without complaint. He made a show of tucking them inside his backpack, and carefully pulling it onto his shoulders. Then he dusted himself off, trying to look dignified. 

“Alright, get going, loser,” said Christine, walking to get the door for him. 

But Dustin stayed where he was. 

“You know there’s always gonna be one person that loves you, right?” 

“Wow,” Christine laughed, ruffling his baseball hat over his curls. “You are such a ham today.” 

“Oh no. Not me. I meant Lucas.” 

“Oh my God, just get out of here, Dustin.” 

“No, I’m serious! He’s always had a giant crush on you! Why do you think we’re friends?” 

Christine sighed, leaning back against the front door. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it had something to do with comic books.” 

“Nope. On the first day of fourth grade, you offered to walk me to school, and everyone in my class thought I was the coolest because I had a middle school girl as a friend. Lucas was the first person to say hi to me after that.” 

“Wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Didn’t I introduce you to Mike on the first day of fourth grade?” 

“Semantics.” He waved a hand at her contradiction. “I just want you to remember there are people out there smarter than Steve Harrington. And we’re also like, way cooler.” 

Christine nodded, unable to contain a warm smile. She swung the door open, letting Dustin go first and then following him out onto the stoop. He practically skipped down the path to her driveway, where his bike was waiting faithfully. 

“Hey,” she called, as he clambered on. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dusty.” 

Dustin lifted his hand in salute, and gave her a toothless grin. “Hey, I learned a new trick on my bike this week. Wanna see?” 

“Yeah, go crazy.” 

He beamed, getting off to a rocky start as he peddled down the driveway. He looped the wrong way when he hit the street, gaining speed before he raced toward the Wheelers. Once he hit top speed, he took both hands off the bike, cupped them to his mouth, and screamed at the top of his lungs. 

“STEVE HARRINGTON IS A DOUCHEBAG!” 

Christine clapped a hand over her mouth. She instinctively checked the street for bystanders, but no one was around to glare reproachfully. That was a relief, since she failed to repress her snort of amusement. 

“Hey!” she shouted after Dustin. “Watch your language!” 

“Watch your alcohol intake!” 

He waved to her over his shoulder, hardly breaking as he zoomed around the corner and completely out of sight. Christine grinned as she watched him go. 

“Little shithead.” 

She closed the door, heading back to the living room where the couch was calling to her. She hadn’t planned on being up this early. Not that she’d done much planning anyway. Her muscles begged her to go back to sleep—couch, bed, it didn’t matter. However, she also knew that she had a lot of homework to do. And of course, she felt like crap. 

She finished another glass of water to be safe, and passed on the Cheerios to make some toast. The thought of eating still made her insides writhe in protest, but she knew Dustin was right. She wouldn’t feel any better until she got something in her stomach. 

After that piss poor breakfast, she dragged herself to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth twice, desperately trying to remove the slimy feel of punch from her gums. She scrubbed at her skin in the shower, nearly scorched herself with hot water, but none of it mattered. It was like the ghost of that stupid house party had gotten under her skin. 

While the shower didn’t particularly help ditch her bad mood, it had made her exhausted. Christine didn’t think twice as she passed the phone, or the pile or work next to her desk. That could wait until after a nice, long nap. 

 At least, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. It had seemed like a good idea when she woke up again at noon, the sun gently filtering through the window. It had only started to seem questionable when she sat down at one o’clock, refreshed and well-fed, and faced the enormous pile of homework that was due the next morning. 

As much as people teased her, Christine was not a particularly studious person. She wasn’t diligent like Nancy—studying weeks in advance and chipping away at large projects in reasonable, organized amounts. More often than not, everything was pushed to the last minute, and she’d give it her best shot. Thankfully, her best shot was usually pretty good. 

Science came easy to her. Analyzing how things worked, actually wanting to understand—it was natural for Christine. In other subjects, she had to work a bit harder. Her math grades were fine, even if she didn’t love trig. What was the point of studying something they couldn’t use in everyday life? She always struggled with history. Dates and names she didn’t need went right to the garbage center of her brain. But at the moment, she was grappling with an English paper. 

It was just a chapter analysis, and it should have been simple. But her head was aching, the words were blurry, and she couldn’t have cared less about the assignment. Every few minutes, she’d get distracted by cleaning her room, or getting another snack. She told herself she was mulling the answers over in her head. She knew in reality she was just finding more ways to procrastinate. 

Eventually, she reached the point where she began eyeing the telephone. Her homework wasn’t the only thing she’d been putting off, and she honestly wasn’t sure which chore she’d rather face. But knowing she wouldn’t get much further without some assistance, she decided it was worth the risk. 

Christine dragged her schoolwork into bed, pulling her phone off the nightstand and plugging in the familiar number. It only rang a few times before someone picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Mrs. Holland. It’s Christine.” 

“Oh, hello, Christine! Is everything alright? It’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I’m having some trouble with my English homework and I was looking for some advice. Is Barb still up?” 

“You know, I think she was just heading to bed. Hold on, sweetie.” 

There was a moment’s shuffle as Mrs. Holland pulled the receiver away, calling down the hall to her daughter. Christine barely heard her muffled reply, and a few seconds later there was a soft click as the call was passed off. 

“Christine?” 

“Hey, Barb. Did you finish the review for Striffler’s class? I feel like I’ve read the chapter eight times and I’m still not finding anything useful.” 

“That’s it?” Barb asked flatly. “No ‘what’s up,’ ‘how are you’? ‘Sorry I didn’t call you back last night’?” 

Christine closed her eyes, briefly pressing the receiver against her forehead. That was the attitude she’d been hoping to avoid. 

“Barb, I’m begging you. I feel like crap, I’ve read the same sentence seventeen times, and I just want to finish this crap so I can go to bed. Please.” 

“Funny,” she said sourly. “How is it you can rant for twenty minutes about symbolism and foreshadowing in Hitchcock’s Psycho, but as soon as it’s time for Striffler’s assignments, it all goes out the window?” 

“Because Grapes of Wrath is boring as shit, Barb. Please. If I try to relate one more scene to the turtle in chapter three, Striffler’s gonna have me kicked out of school.” 

“Fine. But you are not hanging up until we finish this conversation.” 

That was as good as she was going to get. It was lucky enough that Barb hadn’t forced the conversation first, and made her wait for homework answers at the end. Not that she made it easy. Her advice was all given pretty flippantly, parsed with vague jabs about unreliability and lack of commitment. Christine knew she was just joking—mostly—but she also knew she deserved it. She had promised to call, after all. 

It took Barb twenty minutes to finish what Christine had been working on all evening. It was a relief to finally close her binder. She took a moment to relish the sound it made when she kicked it off her blanket and onto the floor. 

“Seriously, Barb. Thank you. I’d be lost without you.” 

“Yeah, anytime. I’m just glad to hear you aren’t…you know, dead or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” Christine offered earnestly. “It…It was just a really rough night.” 

“Yeah, sounds like it.” 

“You already talked to Nancy.” 

It was a statement, not a question, but Christine was still hoping Barb might correct her. She did not. 

“Yeah, first thing this morning. And again like, half an hour ago. Chrissy, you should really call her. She sounded pretty freaked.” 

“I’ll bet,” said Christine, unable to repress a snort. 

“She was worried about you,” Barb insisted. “I mean, from what she said you went to the bathroom and just disappeared.” 

“I was sick. If she was really so worried, she could have called me.” 

“She thinks you’re mad at her.” 

Christine pursed her lips, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Yeah, well she’s not wrong.” 

“What happened?” 

“You talked to Nancy. You know what happened.” 

“Maybe I wanna hear it from you.” 

“Right. You wanna hear it from me, or you wanna find out how much I know so Nancy can keep the rest to herself?” 

“No, Christine…” 

“No! Let’s—Let’s be real, Barb. I know why Nancy didn’t call me. She wants to keep her perfect fantasy alive for just a little longer before I come into the picture and mess things up. Because, you know, it’s me that messes things up. That’s what I do. We went to the party, I messed up, Nancy dazzled everyone with her sparkling personality, and next thing I know, she has her tongue halfway down Steve’s throat.” 

“Chris.” 

Christine huffed, banging her head against the wall. 

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I just…I was being an idiot. I don’t know why I thought it was gonna go any differently. In the end, Nancy always gets what she wants. She always has to get what she wants.” 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but…she could kind of say the same thing about you.” 

Christine glared at the foot of her bed. “Excuse me?” 

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” said Barb, speaking very quickly now, “and I totally feel that. It sucks. But look at it from her point of view. You made it into Steve’s class, you got to be his lab partner, he visits you at work, and every time Nancy’s tried to be supportive. She’s been happy for you. That’s all she wants from you.” 

“It’s not like I chose to be Steve’s partner. I didn’t have any control over that. She didn’t have to kiss him.” 

“Takes two to tango,” she pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet that you’re not as angry at Steve as you are at her.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh come on, Christine. I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“How can I blame him for liking Nancy better?” she sighed, picking at the edge of her blanket. “Everybody else does.” 

“Okay, no. You are not allowed to turn this into a pity party.” 

“I’m just saying it’s true. It’s not his fault.” 

“It is his fault because he’s using you! He used you to get to Nancy, just like he’s using you to pass physics! Chris, you…you have to know that.” 

Christine frowned down at her sheets. She did know it. She’d known it from the moment Tommy had made that stupid joke and Steve had freaked out. She’d probably even known it before. But what on earth was she supposed to do about that? She couldn’t get away from him. She couldn’t just stop saying yes, even if she wanted to. It was so much easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. At least then she got to enjoy some of his company. 

“It doesn’t seem to bother Nancy,” she said instead. 

Barb scoffed on the other end of the line. “I know. And I won’t pretend she’s not being dumb. It’s just because you’re both blinded by his luscious locks or his sunglasses or whatever it is.” 

Christine chuckled wistfully. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” 

“Hey,” she continued, her voice softer this time. “I know that he’s cute, and he’s super popular and charming, but…you deserve more than that. I need you to know that.” 

“Thanks, Barb.” 

“Anytime. Really. Anytime you need me to remind you that the guy’s dumb as dirt, I will.” Christine snorted, and she could hear Barb’s smile through the phone. “I just worry about you, Chris.” 

“Did you say all this to Nancy?” 

“I tried to. She was actually pretty blasé about the whole thing. Keeps insisting ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ and ‘it wasn’t like that.’” 

“Right. Take it from someone who was there. It was definitely like that.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to focus on the intricate seam-work of her comforter. She didn’t want to remember what they’d looked like cuddled together on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The image kept creeping up behind her eyelids when she blinked. She suspected that was part of the reason she still felt so nauseous. 

“Is that why you left?” Barb asked gently. 

“Kinda,” admitted Christine. “Part of it, anyway. I was pretty drunk, and then Tommy and Carol started ragging on me about the whole thing.” 

“Assholes.” 

“Yeah, well, I shoved Tommy into a wall so…I kinda split after that.” 

“Look at you,” Barb laughed. “What a badass.” 

“Oh, totally. I spilled punch on Carol and then ran out of the house crying. Real badass.” 

Christine managed a grin, but it was short lived. Another thought was creeping up on her, a question she wasn’t certain she wanted the answer to. 

“Was Nance mad that I left?” 

“No, no,” Barb assured her. “Mostly she just sounded concerned, but…Steve also drove her home, so. I imagine that had something to do with it.” 

“Right.” Her heart sank, which didn’t help matters with her stomach. “Of course.” 

“I really think you should call her, Chrissy. You two need to talk.” 

“I know. I know, I do. I just…I kind of want to wait until I know what I want to say. Until I’m over it.” 

“Do you really think you’re gonna get over it?” 

“Well…no. But I’d at least like to wait until I can close my eyes without imagining the two of them groping each other again.” 

“It could be worse. You could be stuck seeing Tommy and C—…” 

The line went dead without warning. Or not dead, so much as broken. Loud static screeched from the phone, and Christine wrenched it away with a yelp. She rubbed her ear, grimacing. 

“Hello? Barb? Barbara?” 

She rattled the handset at a loss, then whacked the base for good measure. When that didn’t work, she jiggled the hook. She brought the phone back to her ear, expecting to hear the dial tone, but—nothing. Just the static that she couldn’t place. 

Christine frowned, dropping the set back on her nightstand. Well. At least she had a good excuse for avoiding Nancy. 

Figuring she would worry about it later, Christine decided to get ready for bed. She shoveled all of her books into her bag, and double checked that the front and back doors were locked. The bathroom light flickered annoyingly—too dim, too yellow, then bright enough to blind her as she brushed her teeth. She smacked it to limited effect, and made a mental note to change the bulb sometime soon. 

She slipped under the covers, stretching slightly so she could turn off her lamp. And just before she could, the light flickered, and went out. 

Christine paused. A glance out the window confirmed that there couldn’t be a blackout. The streetlamps were still shining brightly, and a few of the lights were still on next door. She listened carefully, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the clicking of her alarm clock, the gentle rumble of the heater. A dog barked somewhere down the block, but besides that, it was silent. 

Nothing stood out, except for the uneasy prickle on the back of her neck. She did her best to ignore it, and pulled the blankets a bit tighter around her.

[twisted-broth]

Your Hand in Mine- Jack x Reader

Reader gender: female Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of death A/n: sorry for being absent for so long! I’ve kinda lost a lot of motivation and creativity so please send in some prompts I’m v desperate. Word count: 2202 You laid down on your bed with a good book and music blasting from your phone, bored after the third day the Winchester’s had left you alone in the bunker. The sound cut out, replaced by the generic ringtone. You answered it after seeing it was Dean. “Hey hey.” You greeted. “Y/n, glad you’re okay. I need you to meet us in Wyoming, we have stuff to talk about.” He said, sounding morbid. “Okay, text me the address. Hey, is everything okay? What happened with the nephilim?” “I’ll tell you there.” He growled before hanging up. He quickly sent you the address for a hotel about a 12 hour drive from the bunker. You packed a small bag and retrieved your motorcycle from the garage. 

You rode for 12 straight hours, running on nothing but fast food and caffeine. The limited word from the boys only made you go faster. You finally arrived at the hotel and parked next to the familiar Impala. You grabbed your bag and walked to the building, passing a boy around your age huddled by a stack of crates. You slowed down and knelt down beside him. “Hey, are you okay?” You asked him. “Yeah. Everyone was just really angry inside.” He shuddered. “My oldest brother gets angry a lot. I usually let him be when it happens. Just remember it’s not your fault.” You assured him. “No… I think it is. He sure seemed to think it was.” The door opened beside you, releasing heat into the cold night. “Jack? Jack?” Someone called. “Sam?” You asked, recognizing the voice. “Y/n!” He rounded the crates and spotted you with the boy. “Hey, bro, how’s it going?” You asked, standing and giving him a hug. “Uh, good now, since you seemed to have found who I was looking for.” He said, gesturing to the boy you were with. “Oh yeah, he and I were just talking.” You smiled at him. “She’s very nice.” He told Sam. “Yeah, she is. Jack, this is Y/n, my sister. Y/n, this is Jack, Kelly’s son.” Sam introduced you. “Kelly Kline? He’s that Jack?” You asked in astonishment. “Are you afraid of me now?” Jack asked quietly. “Oh god, no. You’re just a lot different than I expected.” You explained. “So what exactly is Jack here doing outside, in the cold, by himself?” You hissed. “There was some fighting and Jack got upset and vanished.” Sam told you. “Was it Dean?” You sighed. He nodded in response. “That ass. You can’t think too hard about what Dean says, Jack. His frustration turns into anger… and fear.” “What is he afraid of?” Jack questioned. “He thinks it’s his job to protect everybody and right now, he and Sam and now me, have to protect you. And protect people from you if it comes to that.” You told him. “Am I really worth this?” He asked, sounding defeated. “Kelly thought so.” Sam promised. “Cas thought so, I think so.” “I think so, too.” You chimed in. “Now, c’mon, it’s cold out here and I’ve been driving for 12 hours.” You offered the nephilim your hand which he grabbed tightly, his hands surprisingly warm. You hauled him to his feet and walked with him to the door if the hotel. “It’s usually at this point that you’d let go of my hand.” You whispered to him. “Sorry.” He quickly released your hand and stuffed it in his pocket, earning a laugh from you. “At least buy me dinner first.” You teased, clapping him on the shoulder. You jogged to the counter to get a room, leaving Sam to explain to Jack what you had meant. “She was joking. Holding hands is kind of a romantic thing and it’s something you after you get to know someone or- uh- get dinner with them.” Sam awkwardly explained. “Room for one night. Preferably close to them.” You told the lady at the desk, nodding to Sam and Jack. “Alright, just swipe your card.” You pulled one of your fake credit cards out and swiped it on the machine. “You’re all set, Miss Smith, your room is 117, right down the hall, next to Mr. Seth.” She nodded at Sam when she said that and handed you your room key. “Thank you.” You took the key and headed back to Sam and Jack. “Y/n, would you like to have dinner with me?” Jack asked when he saw you arrive, interrupting what Sam was telling him. “No, Jack, you don’t date someone just for the sole purpose of holding their hand.” Sam sighed. “I would love to get dinner with you.” You insisted. “Can you not?” Sam groaned. “Tomorrow sound good?” You continued, ignoring Sam. “Yes.” Jack said, smiling proudly. “Ooh, I’m going on a date. Don’t get too protective, Sammy.” You teased. “Just don’t tell Dean.” He begged as you walked down the hall. You stopped into Sam’s room real quick to grab a beer before going to your room. “Yo! You didn’t tell me Donatello was here! What’s up, man?” You asked, giving the prophet a small hug. “Oh, hello, Y/n. It’s nice to see you.” He greeted. “Well, good talk, I’m going to take this beer and go to sleep. Bye, Donny. Bye, Sam. See ya, Jack.” You left the room and entered your own, downing the rest of the beer and crashing onto your bed. ~~~ “Y/n, wake up!” Dean yelled, shaking you awake. “The fuck do you want, Dean?” You asked sleepily, annoyed at being woken up. “Jack is missing, c’mon.” You began moving quicker, shoving Dean out of the room and changing. You packed up your stuff, grabbed your gun and angel blade and bolted out the door. An angel blade flew passed your head, lodging in the neck of a demon. After Dean retrieved his blade, you headed down to the cars, tossing the keys on the front desk as you went. Sam, Dean and Donatello piled into the Impala and you got on your bike, following them as Donatello delivered directions. You eventually arrived at Jasper, Wyoming, a place you remember reading about in Dad’s journal. It was right above where the shedim were trapped. You rounded a corner and saw Jack in the distance, stand with someone who looked like Donatello. A fiery pit slowly grew between them, a clawed hand reaching out of it. Once you got close enough, you brought your bike to a stop, threw your helmet to the side and raced towards Jack. “Jack! Jack, that’s not Donatello!” You yelled, hoping to draw his attention from the pit in front of him. “Y/n?” He called out. You heard Sam, Dean and Donatello exit the car behind you. “Ignore her, Jack! She doesn’t care about you!” Fake Donatello insisted. “I do care! Please, Jack, close the pit!” “Jack, that’s not Donatello!” Dean told him, coming up beside you. Fake Donatello morphed before becoming someone else. He looked similar to Cain, but his hair was a healthy brown. “Who-” you began to ask but you were cut off when the stranger raised a fist, making it so you were no longer able to breath. “You’re hurting them!” Jack yelled, the hole quickly closing. You could see that Jack was angry by the way he held himself and the way the stranger looked on in fear. Before anything could happen, he disappeared, once again allowing you air. “Are you okay, Y/n?” Jack asked, rushing towards you. “Yeah, don’t worry, Jack, I’m alright.” You assured him. “When did you two get all close?” Dean sneered, big brother mode turning on. “Last night. We had a little chat about how you are when you’re angry.” You shrugged. “When I’m- oh. Right, that.” He sighed, turning and going back into the Impala, leaving the conversation at a standstill. “I told you not to tell him.” Sam sighed, going after his brother. “Damn, if that’s how he acts when we’re just being friends, he’s gonna flip his shit when he hears about our date.” You laughed. “Your date?” Donatello asked. “We have a date tonight!” Jack told him happily. “I see. You kids enjoy that.” He muttered, heading for the Impala. You followed him to the driver's seat and knocked on Dean’s window. He rolled down the window, allowing you to talk. “You take Donatello to get his car and I can take Jack straight back to the bunker. Cool?” You asked. “I guess…” He sighed. You nodded and led Jack back to your bike while the boys took off. You searched through the attached truck until you pulled out a spare helmet and tossed it to Jack. “What do I do with this?” He asked, spinning it around in his hands. “Put it on your head, latch the clippy things and put down the visor so you don’t get rocks in your eyes.” You instructed. He did as you said and you tightened the helmet for him. “Now, I’m going to drive and you’re going to put your hands around my waist and hold on tight.” You said as you mounted the bike and started it. “Aren’t there supposed to be seatbelts?” He asked nervously. You laughed. “Not on a motorcycle.” He got on behind you and laced his arms around your waist. “Ready?” You asked him. “I think so.” He replied uncertainly. You drove forward, following the trail the Impala has left behind. Jack yelled something behind which got caught in the wind. You rode for four and a half hours with a few breaks to talk. It grew dark as you reached Denver, Colorado. Hunger reaching your mind, you scanned the surrounding restaurants, finally parking at one called Acorn. “Ready for our first date?” You asked him, pulling off your helmet and fixing your hair. “Yes, I am!” He exclaimed happily. You chuckled and took his hand, guiding him into the building. “Two, please.” You told the hostess as you approached her. “Right this way.” She guided you. “Ever been to a restaurant before, Jack?” You asked once you had been seated. “I don’t believe so.” He replied after a moment of thinking. “Okay, So first they’re gonna ask what you want to drink. You’ve got all the alcoholic stuff here, but since you don’t know what you like yet, I’d avoid that.” You directed him. A waitress approached your table, notepad in hand. “Hello, my name’s Chrissy and I’ll be your server today. Can I start y’all off with something to drink?” She asked. “Yeah, I’ll have a water.” You told her. “Me too. I’ll also have a water.” Jack said. “I’ll be right back, then.” She said as she left. “Alright, now you can look at the menu and see what you want to eat.” You scanned through the options on your own menu. “Do you want to share the oak roasted chicken?” You asked, seeing the limited dinner options. “Yes, that sounds good.” He nodded in agreement. Chrissy came back with your waters and you placed your orders. Throughout the rest of your dinner, you talked about anything and everything. You told him about your life, joining them after Adam and your mother had died, growing up on the road with no real friends except your brothers. You told him about Kelly and Cas and explained anything he asked. He didn’t have much experience with the world, but he told you what he could. He talked about his powers and angel radio and what he wanted to see in the world. After you had finished dinner and payed, you called Dean to tell him that you’d be staying at a motel tonight. “Wait, with him?” He scoffed. “I sure as hell ain’t paying for two rooms.” You replied. “It can’t be that far, can’t you just hold out?” He begged. “We’re in Denver, Dean. It’s another eight hours.” You stressed. “You left seven hours ago, what the hell are you still doing in Denver?” “We stopped for dinner.” “For three hours.” “We did a lot of talking.” “We were on a date!” Jack exclaimed, hearing your conversation. “What did he just say?” Dean growled. “Hmm? I didn’t hear anything. Oh, I’ve got to go. It’s getting dark and I want to make sure we get into a good motel. Bye, Dean.” You quickly ended the conversation and hung up. “Sorry, I just got excited.” Jack sighed. “It’s alright, Jack. Dean just doesn’t like you very much and he’s very protective of me.” You explained. “Oh, okay.” He said awkwardly. “Well, hop on, let’s go find a place to sleep.” You said, tossing Jack his helmet and getting on your bike. After arriving at a nearby hotel and booking a room, you flopped down on the bed and kicked off your shoes, ready to sleep after the eventful day. “Y/n, what happens after the date?” Jack curiously asked. “Well, if the people like each other, they start dating and call each other boyfriend a girlfriend, generally.” You explained. “Then… can we start dating?” He asked shyly. “If that’s what you want.” “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” “Then, date we shall.”

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[smittenwithsugden]

That drabble you did earlier was brilliant! The only thing I can think about now is a drunk Adam trying to explain the epic romance that is Robron and Aaron being all annoyed with him because he keeps getting things wrong and making Robert out to be the bad guy, and he keeps correcting him until eventually Aaron is telling the story and Robert comes back to find all these drunk idiots crying over their love story! I'm not saying you should continue it, but you should totally continue it!!!

Thank you so much, nonnie. I actually did write you a little something (or a big something for me, 1600 words) It is not exactly what you asked for, but I hope you like it anyway.

The prompt this story is following can be found here.

Story under a read more.

“Oh, Matt,my friend, grab a beer, lean back and let me tell you the great story of AaronDingle and Robert Sugden,” Adam announced with a grin.

“I think Inever heard the whole story, either,” Pete said.

“Me neither,”David said. “Just the gossip bits in the shop.”

“It’sreally not that big of a story,” Aaron grumbled, grabbing his beer.

“Well, I amtelling it, so you have to deal,” Adam grinned. “It all began when RobertSugden returned to the village in the year 2014, with his rich and beautiful fiancéChrissie White.”

“ChrissieWhite?” Matt asked. “Hold on which one is she? The pretty White or the witchWhite?”

“Dependswho you ask,” Aaron couldn’t help but throw in.

“Thebrunette,” Adam said.

“Yeah, wow,okay, the pretty one,” Matt said.

“Anyway,”Adam quickly said before Aaron could say something. “Aaron here saw him andthought: Wow, what a handsome bloke, I need to get in his pants. How do I dothat? I know, I am gonna steal his car.”

Petelaughed, but Aaron shook his head. “Ross nicked his car,” Aaron said.

“Of course,”Pete said.

“Doesn’tmatter,” Adam said. “So they met and somehow they started something and then…”

“No, no,hold on now,” Matt said, “you skip over the important bits. How did they startsomething?”

“I am nottoo sure, actually,” Adam said. “I imagine Aaron chased him and got him withhis wit and charm.”

“Haha,”Aaron said dryly. “He came after me, actually.”

“How?” Mattquickly asked, seizing the opportunity that Aaron gave information willingly.

“Pretendedhis car broke down,” Aaron said, “and got my number off Vic.”

“Nice,”Pete laughed the same time David said: “Good move.”

“So thefact that he was engaged didn’t bother you?” Matt asked.

Aaronlooked uncomfortable, but then shook his head. “Well, I thought he was gay andwould break it off with her sooner or later anyway.”

“Well, heobviously is and did break it off, right?” Matt asked.

“No, he’snot gay” Aaron said and Matt looked confused. “He’s bi and he didn’t leave heruntil way later.”

“Anyway,”Adam cut in again. “So those two started their hot and heavy and steamy affair,while Aaron and I were trying to start our own business. We needed an investorand guess who so selflessly offered himself and his bank account?”

Petegrinned and shook his head. “You gotta give it to him, though, that Robertreally knows his moves.”

“I don’tknow the ins and outs,” Adam said. “But they were hot and cold for a while,right Aaron?”

“You couldsay that,” Aaron said.

“Until onefine summer day our Aaron had enough, he walked right into Home Farm and toldChrissie all about it,” Adam said.

“Okay, holdon,” Matt said. “At this point for how long had the affair been going on?”

“Bit morethan half a year, right?” Adam said and Aaron nodded.

“AndChrissie never suspected a thing?” Matt asked.

“Nope,”Adam said. “But they did have their fights. Didn’t you even got Chrissie totake him back at one point?” Adam asked.

“Sort of,”Aaron said. “He was sulking around in the Pub, it got really annoying. So Itold her he’s a miserable git and she should talk to him.”

“Wow,”David said, shaking his head.

“That’ssome next level shit, mate,” Pete said.

“Yeah,well, Robert didn’t exactly make it easy on him,” Adam said. “And I know whatliving with him is like, so I get it.”

Aaronrolled his eyes at that.

“He marriedChrissie in February, right?” David said and Aaron nodded again.

“Wow,” Mattsaid, raising his eyebrows, “so you kept going after he got married and thenyou outed him months later?”

“I’m notexactly proud of it,” Aaron said.

“No, no,”Adam said, by now he was kind of slurring his words, obviously having one toomany. “Robert kept dragging him along. I mean why you would marry a White whenyou can have this piece of hot….”

“Okay,”Aaron interrupted quickly. “We didn’t exactly make it easy for each other.”

“From whatI hear Robert never made it easy on anybody he was involved with,” David said.

“I see,” Mattsaid, “so he got a great reputation around here, hm?”

“They don’tknow him well,” Aaron mumbled.

“Okay, okaywe are getting to the best bit,” Adam announced. “So we are in the second halfof 2015 now, the affair was blown, Chrissie left Robert’s sorry ass and Aarondidn’t want anything to do with him anymore.  Pretty much everybody except my brilliant wifewanted nothing to do with him anymore.”

“Your wife?”Matt asked.

“Oh yeah, Iam married to his sister,” Adam said. “Anyway…. Robert gets shot and Aaron getsarrested for it.”

“What?”Matt asked shocked and David laughed.

“Poor guy,has no idea in what kind of village he stranded here.”

“You shothim?” Matt asked. “How did you two ever get back together?”

“I didn’tshoot him,” Aaron said. “I just hid the gun, because I thought my mum did it.”

“Why wouldyour mum shoot him?” Matt asked confused, shaking his head.

“Maybe weshould end the storytelling here,” Aaron said uncomfortably, taking a sip fromhis beer. “We made up, worked things out, got married, here we are, end ofstory.”

Petelaughed. “I fear, you are not gonna get out of this one now, mate.”

“So Robertgets Aaron out of prison,” Adam continued like he hadn’t heard anything else. “Probablyto get back in his pants, apparently getting shot makes you rethink your lifeor something like that. So he tried to get back into Aaron’s good books, but itdidn’t really work.”

“Oh boy,” Mattsaid, “I can’t wait to hear what made you change your mind.”

And all ofa sudden the atmosphere in the room shifted. Adam seemed to have rememberedwhat the next part of the story would be and Pete and David lookeduncomfortably at the floor.

“My fathercame back to town,” Aaron said and swallowed hard. “We weren’t exactly on thebest of terms and Robert helped me dealing with it.”

Matt seemedto sense the change in mood as well, because he didn’t ask for further info.

Adam pattedAaron’s back and Aaron nodded quickly. “It’s all right,” he said. “Seriously.No need for this to be a mood killer. Keep on telling that story then.”

“Well,”Adam said, “it made a lot of people see that Robert is not just this bad guywho cheats on people and manipulates them and is only out for his own gain, butactually he is… well, if he cares about you he is gonna protect you with all hehas.”

Aaron bithis lower lip and nodded.

“So, whenexactly did you get together?” Matt asked.

“April lastyear,” Aaron said.

“And yougot married this year in February?” he asked and Aaron nodded. “When did hepropose?”

 “October last year,” Aaron said. “He actuallyyelled it at me in the car.”

“Charming,”Matt grinned.

“I waswinding him up,” Aaron said, “I do that a lot apparently.”

“They gotin a car crash right after he yelled it at him,” Adam said. “And Aaron here,being the little romantic he is, wakes up in the hospital and the first thinghe does is say yes to him.”

Pete andDavid and Matt all awwwed in unison while Aaron protested.

“I was highon morphine.”

“But whenyou weren’t you were asking him,” Adam said with a grin and a nudge.

“Yeah,well, he said all the right things” Aaron said.

Matt leanedback again and looked at Aaron.

“So you twostarted as an affair, he strung you along until you outed him, then he got shotand you were blamed, he helps you out with some personal stuff and then youagreed to marry him?” Matty asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Adam andPete laughed at that.

“I’m notsure there is anybody in this village who understands Robert Sugden exceptAaron Dingle,” Adam said.

“Wow, yousaid that so wonderfully dramatic,” David grinned.

“You justkept coming back to each other,” Matt said.

“Yeah,”Aaron said. “We’re pretty much rubbish without each other.”

They hadn’trealized how the time had passed when they heard the key in the lock again.

Adamgrinned. “He always comes back, right?”

“We’llleave you to it,” Pete said and the boys all got up when Robert came into theliving room.

“I’m sorry,”Robert said immediately. “Please don’t leave on my account. I’ll just goupstairs, yeah?”

It wasdirected at everybody but his eyes were fixed on Aaron. Aaron shrugged oneshoulder, Robert tilted his head, Aaron’s left corner of his mouth jerked upvery slightly and Robert visibly relaxed.

“Wow,” Mattsaid, “I get it now.”

“Right?”Adam said. “They are something else.”

“What?”Robert asked confused.

“Nothing,mate,” Pete said. “We’re gonna leave you two to it.”

Theyquickly grabbed their stuff and headed out.

Mattstopped by Robert’s side when they were on their way out and said. “Congrats,man,” and left.

Robertwalked over to Aaron as soon as they left and pulled him in by his waist.

“So… am Iforgiven?” he asked.

“Guess so,”Aaron said and closed the gap to give him a short kiss.

“So, whatwas Matt congratulating me on?” Robert asked.

“Your life,I think,” Aaron grinned.