#also just needed something simple and nice to paint yesterday to chill out

[brupara]

While watching Night Mind's Gilbert Garfield VOD I felt the need to put a less disturbing Garf into the world. Y'know. Balance things out.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

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Chapter 5/?: Housewarming

Sasuke spars with Naruto for the better portion of the afternoon into evening, until they are both sufficiently exhausted and slightly sunburned, on the condition that he will eat anywhere but Ichiraku’s and anything but ramen for the dinner his friend is trying to goad him into after. Naruto agrees all too quickly, grinning too much for his liking, and saying a little duplicitously, “That so? Happens that I know a place!”

The blond refuses to tell him where he’s leading him after their fight finally concludes in a draw, weaving tiredly through village streets around six at night with bruised ribs. Sasuke begins to suspect it’s an elaborate ruse to lure him to his house to eat. Sure enough, eventually they turn a corner and marigold, cobalt, and fuchsia invade his line of vision.

“You’re so stupid. I’m not eating anything you’ve put your hands on.”

Naruto laughs, evidently not the slightest bit offended. “Don’t worry, Hinata-chan made me a bunch of food for the next few days! There’s more than enough to share, and I haven’t touched any of it.”

Sasuke grumbles, but his friend assures him that at least some of it’s not ramen, so he acquiesces cautiously and follows him through the threshold of his home.

It is pretty nice, as Sakura said, though he’s sure that’s because of the dobe’s wife and not him, and what he’s comparing it to - Naruto’s old apartment, littered with trash and expired food items in the fridge - doesn’t set a very high bar in the first place. The house has wood floors, and a spacious kitchen with plenty of storage, at least from what he discerns when he first walks in. He assumes he’s going to be forced on the tour shortly to view the rest of it.

There is an absolute mountain of pre-prepared food in clear containers when his friend opens the fridge. Sasuke will admit pretty much everything looks good, though he’s not sure what specifically the dobe plans on them eating. He’s not sure Naruto knows, either; he stares at the contents of the fridge for a long minute, squinting as if making a life-changing decision.

“...Does she think you can’t feed yourself or something?” Sasuke deadpans.

Naruto laughs nervously, in a way that gives Sasuke the impression that Hinata Uzumaki might not be as quiet and reserved as most people assume, at least behind closed doors. His friend almost sounds fearful, as if there may be consequences for him if he doesn’t eat what his wife has prepared for him in her absence in its entirety.

“...Or she just knows you’d eat instant ramen the whole time she was gone, otherwise.” This time it’s not a question.

Naruto has the grace to at least feign embarrassment. “Well, uh, you know what they say… Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his food, or whatever!” Sasuke wonders for a short few seconds what kind of repercussion Hinata could possibly be holding over him, but then remembers Kakashi’s warning earlier in the day, and decides abruptly that he doesn’t care to further pursue that train of thought.

Eventually they decide on vegetable and shrimp tempura with plain onigiri, all premade. Sasuke is hungry, and tempura has a high caloric intake. Naruto dumps the tempura in a mysterious device called an air fryer to warm, and while they wait, the blond shows him around.

It’s commodious, with extra bedrooms as Sakura said. Most of the furniture is rich dark wood, accented with slightly vibrant colors, inclusive of the walls, that are perhaps a little intense for his own preferences. It is obvious that Naruto helped pick the paint colors, but he assumes Hinata must like them, too. The Hyuga are an old clan, deeply rooted in tradition as the Uchiha had been; Sasuke imagines that many of the interiors at the Hyuga residences are varying shades of white, gray, or brown, also with darker wood, as many of the Uchiha households had been; a more colorful interior would have been a change for her. He supposes a proclivity for brightness makes sense, given that she’d married Naruto. Their house overall smells vaguely like jasmine blossom and nectarine, though not overbearingly so. Naruto’s apartment had never smelled like that, so it must be Hinata’s doing. Sasuke spies a candle the color of honey that might be the source, perched on a corner table.

It sits next to a framed copy of their original Team Seven group portrait. Sasuke eyes it as they pass through the living room again to the back door.

It opens up to a sizable backyard situated on the north side of the house, framed with a fence for privacy and a number of lush trees, dangling greenery swaying in the breeze. A small garden sits in the far back left corner, the area with the least tree cover; it’s been recently tilled and sowed, small sprouts beginning to poke through the soil.

“We get lots of fireflies back here in the summer. Hinata-chan loves them, so we sit back here all the time! She’s thinking of getting a birdbath, too,” Naruto mentions fondly, a bit more hushed than his usual timbre; he must have some good memories back here already.

“It’s nice.” Sasuke remarks at the end when they go back inside, because it is, and his friend grins from ear to ear, stupidly proud. Then the timer dings from the other room, and they eat.

Hinata’s cooking is good. Sasuke sorts out all of the sweet potato chunks to shove onto Naruto’s plate, but eats the rest: squash, bell peppers, eggplant, broccoli, and shrimp, coated in spiced breading that tastes slightly of rosemary, along with the onigiri, more simple but also filling.

Naruto prattles throughout as always, but chews his food before launching into each new topic; it really must be a habit by now. Sasuke doesn’t hold the scroll over his head just yet; he figures Saturday night will be enough opportunity for that. Instead, he solidifies plans for another spar, this time late Saturday morning, because through the nearly endless chatter he has learned that Naruto’s schedule includes normal weekend days off, unless assigned a mission.

The dobe asks him to go drinking with him afterwards; he declines, but thanks him for dinner. Eventually, he departs, after his best friend reminds him for the fourth time today to meet up at Ichiraku’s on Saturday night at six.

As he walks home, lone hand in his pocket, Sasuke finds himself pondering once again what Sakura’s living space will be like. She doesn’t strike him as someone who would like darker wood, for some reason. It’s an apartment, so it will be smaller than Naruto’s house for sure. He assumes it’s probably one bedroom, like his own.

The cadence of crickets creeps in again as he leaves the more lively area of town, buoyed into something quieter by the swishing of leaves through the trees. It’s a sound he craved on his travels often. There are similar sounds elsewhere - insects and trees are not uncommon - but something about Konoha’s particular lilt sticks out in his memories. A clement wind from the north carries an aroma tinged with flowers and loam. When he turns the corner, the breeze blows just right to shift his hair away from his left eye, and his neck heats as he thinks of Sakura’s words from this morning, not for the first time today.

Once he gets back to his apartment, he strips, then tosses his clothing directly into the washing machine, before enjoying a long, near-boiling shower; after the workout he’s had, he needs it. He thinks as he scrubs that this way he won’t need another one until after he gets back from seeing Sakura tomorrow. He contemplates whether they will eat somewhere, since he’s meeting her at the hospital at four. He’d liked the tea shop; she probably knows of other places worth trying.

He is so exhausted that he saves washing his dishes for tomorrow and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. His last thoughts are of gentle jade eyes and kind words murmured in an exam room.

Sasuke is thankful that he doesn’t have another nightmare, but his brain decides to fill the time in other demiurgic ways involving soft fingertips, and when morning comes, he does need another shower, after all; this time, a cold one.

He pinches his nose guiltily as frigid water engulfs him, until his teeth are near chattering. Once that’s done, he throws on a black shirt and pants before grabbing a book. He huddles up under his comforter to chase away the chill, drowning his thoughts in icy history ripe with distraction rather than lasciviousness.

He finishes it eventually, convinced towards the end that he needs to acquire a small lamp; he doesn't like overhead lighting in general, but he especially doesn’t like it for reading. His teeth have stopped clacking together, so he gets out of bed and spends the first portion of the day washing dishes, sharpening his chokuto, and then making lunch, seared beef with green tea noodles and miso dressing. It’s simple, but good, and filling. His throat hurts less than yesterday, but he has another cough drop after, because it helps.

He washes and dries the dishes from today, putting them away before he leaves his apartment to pick up a few more groceries to fill the time. The market he visits is sold out of loose leaf sencha tea; the one he’d visited the first day in his apartment hadn’t had any, either. He settles for a small box of single-serve packets for the time being, and has a cup upon his return to his apartment. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste quite as fresh. He reads more of his other book for a bit, until it’s time to leave to meet Sakura at the hospital.

He leaves a little early again, because he’s eager to see her.

Sakura greets him cheerily, lovely with a tote bag on her shoulder that is starting to become familiar. She tells him that she dropped off his paperwork earlier today, and that his bloodwork has all come back normal. He thanks her, and they spend a nice late afternoon together, roaming around while she points out areas of interest, most of it new development on the more southern part of the village. Wandering with her is much preferable to solivagant ambling on his own, he is coming to find.

He learns that Sunday and Monday are indeed her days off, unless there is an emergency; she mentions that she has a standing date with Ino every Monday morning for training and lunch, but other than that, she keeps her free time pretty open.

“Would you… like to do something on Sunday, then?” He asks carefully, hand twitching a little in his pocket and stomach churning a little in nervousness, though she has given him no reason to be. He hopes he’s not being avaricious by asking for too much of her time. She might prefer to spend some time alone on her days off.

Glittering green eyes beam up at him in response. “Of course,” she answers, and the storm brewing in his belly settles while the vines reach upwards into his chest cavity, because she says it with an inflection that implies there’s nothing she would rather do.

“I think it’s supposed to rain,” Sakura tells him as they walk further southwest; they’re nearing the edge of the village now. “So we probably don’t want to walk around too much. I usually…” Her eyes flick to him, and then away, as if self-conscious. “I usually curl up inside with a book on rainy days. Or... watch documentaries. Sometimes I play go or chess.”

A ghost of a smile overtakes him, because reading on a rainy day is very characteristic of her, but so are the other two things, which he hadn’t known.

Then she’s asking, somewhat shyly, “What do you like to do, on a rainy day?”

It’s a good question; he hasn’t been home for a rainy day in a long time. When he was traveling, he would find shelter - an inn, or the inside of a tree or a cave - and do various tasks that needed doing, like sharpening weapons or writing a letter to her. On those days, he would also often read her old correspondence to him, too, but he’d be embarrassed to admit that to her.

When he was younger, though, he would complete any neglected chores in the morning, and then spend the rest of the day reading, though he did it mainly for productivity to the point of distraction. Sasuke did not like being cooped up in his house for long periods of time, for obvious reasons. Occasionally he would venture to a training ground anyway, if the rain was more light drizzle than downpour, but most of the time he opted not to, because getting sick would delay his progress more than sitting out a day; he could advance in other ways, look into new techniques and practice taijutsu forms inside, if he really focused.

If it rained heavily for more than a day or two consecutively, though, trapping him in the house, he tended to struggle more with it. Sometimes he would stare at a kunai or shuriken left behind in Itachi’s room for too long, and end up sticking his wrist out a back window to watch the water cleanse the wound he’d carved into his skin until it coagulated. It wasn't something he did often, because he knew it was stupid and weak despite the small semblance of control it afforded. It also wasn’t something he only did when it was raining, but being entombed in that house due to inclement weather poured salt into his baser self-destructive tendencies, irritation burning until it was too much and it had to escape his skin to go somewhere. When it rained, it felt like it was an opportunity to rinse it out of him, a tiny increment of relief, rivulets reaching down to turn him over in the grave of dark wood and dull paint colors it felt like he was suffocating in.

Sasuke would go get groceries most of the time, before it got to that point, even if he didn't need them, just to get out of the house for a bit and away from the temptation. He’d come back soaked, tracking water everywhere before curling up in his bed to try to chase away the chill with more distraction, books or scrolls or trying to watch something. Eventually he’d warm up on the outside, but his insides still felt icy for a long time, most days.

He's in an apartment now, though, a long way from what used to be the Uchiha District. He takes a grounding breath that he hopes is subtle, trying to emerge from the glaucous recollection and subsequent smothering feeling lining his lungs. “...I do any chores that need doing, and then I like to read, too,” he finally answers. It's the truth, now. Keen but soft eyes hold his for a moment, and he worries maybe he didn’t fully succeed at the subtlety, but she doesn’t press. He’s thankful for it; he doesn’t want to think about that when he’s with her.

They make plans to have lunch and spend the afternoon reading their respective books at her apartment. He might finish his other book by Sunday’s end; maybe she would go to the library with him again Monday afternoon, if she’s not too busy. He wouldn’t mind playing go or chess, either, if she asks him. It would be a challenge; he hasn’t played either in years. He’ll save it for Sunday, though.

“I can cook,” she offers, looking very pleased, which makes his heart flutter in his chest. “Maybe soup and something to go with it, if it’s chillier? I have a slow cooker I can start it in, the morning of.”

He agrees immediately; he likes soup, and it’s been a while since he’s had a good bowl. Most of the soup he made on the road was limited to whatever ingredients were readily available, with simple water as stock. The result was usually something bland, warming but not hearty by even the barest standards; soup made in a kitchen is much better. He’ll eat any kind, really, especially if it’s cold out. He wonders what Sakura’s cooking is like; she excels at most everything she does, so he imagines it must be good.

By just after five, they’ve ended up at a fairly new and distinctive quadrant of training grounds a little beyond the southwest edge of the village, sharp quartz rock jutting up from uneven ground in several spots and a small creek running down its center. Parts of it sit at a raised elevation, offering a unique vantage point of Konoha. Sasuke realizes as he eyes the surroundings that he would like to train here sometime; the craggy terrain could prove an interesting element to contend with, an exercise of both the mind and body. He’s glad she showed him; he wouldn’t have ventured to this side of town for a long time, on his own.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, thinking he could buy her dinner if she knows any places nearby. It’ll be busier now that it’s dinner time, once they get back into the village, but he doesn’t mind.

Sakura doesn’t answer at first, and instead starts to fiddle inside her bag. His brows knit in confusion, but then she pulls out two bottles of water, two bento boxes, and two pairs of chopsticks.

They’re in reusable containers, not takeout ones, which means she must have made them herself. Sasuke stares at the one she gives him, dumbfounded; it’s filled to the brim with cooked rice topped with black sesame seeds, tonkatsu with sauce, shredded cabbage, green beans goma-ae, and a large number of tomato wedges. Her own has less tomato; a few grapes round it out instead. He also notices the tonkatsu sauce is already poured over hers, but his is in a small sealed container, so he can eat the pork plain if he decides he doesn’t care for the tangy but also slightly sweet dressing.

“I thought we could eat these here... if you want. We could avoid the dinner rush that way. I made the sauce a little less sweet than usual, but I still wasn’t sure, so I thought I’d let you decide,” Sakura offers, soft and kind. He’s too stunned to say anything right away, so she adds somewhat sheepishly, “If... you’d rather get something else, though, that’d be fine, too.”

He thanks her very quietly, then, a little dazed and throat closing up, because he would not rather get something else; he hasn’t had a bento in a long time, let alone one that was prepared specifically for him. The training ground is empty, so they hop up one of the small cliffs and eat it there as she suggests, in view of Hokage Rock framed by trees. It is very good, clearly made with fresh ingredients; the pork is juicy on the inside and texturally crunchy on the outside. The sauce is good, too; not too sweet. He makes sure to eat all of it, as well as to tell her he enjoyed it at the end. She flushes at the compliment; she is very pretty, pink hair and pink cheeks to match.

"How long do you think it'll be before Naruto's up there?" She asks him after they’ve been sitting there for the better part of an hour, food long finished and eerily echoing his thoughts from a few nights ago.

Sasuke regards the mountain, empty space next to Kakashi's likeness. He recalls dinner yesterday at his friend’s home, Naruto sharing food with him made by his wife, and Ichiraku’s the day before that, how he no longer talks with his mouth full, and how he has not pressured him to share about Sakura. Sasuke is sure his rare tact won't last forever, and that he'll be hounded about his relationship with her eventually, but he has appreciated the space gifted to him. For all of their teammate’s fatuousness, he really has grown. If he can get an increment better at deciphering scrolls...

"Not long," he responds eventually. "Five years. Maybe six, with the sculpting."

Sakura nods in agreement, an evocative smile playing at her lips; she must suppose the same.

He speculates, then, tearing his gaze away from her mouth, who else they will see on the mountain in their lifetimes, in the empty space extending to the right. He thinks Naruto is the type to live to be pretty old, especially if Hinata is coercing him into eating balanced nutritional meals now; he might make it to a point where he actually retires from being Hokage, like Tsunade, or Kakashi, eventually.

The next Hokage could be in the village already, maybe in the Academy still, or a Genin. Sasuke remembers a scrawny kid with atrocious camouflage techniques who used to follow Naruto around and challenge him to battles over the position; it may have been the Third's grandson. He hadn’t seemed particularly talented at the time, but then again, neither was Naruto at that age. It’s possible that the kid has progressed since then. It’s also possible, though, that the next Hokage has not even been born yet.

Sasuke walks Sakura home a couple of hours later, dark violet light of dusk cast on her through diamonds on her doorstep. Her expression is the same as the other night, eyes sparking with gold affection, so he kisses her again, hesitantly hoping it’s okay, because he really wants to. Apparently it is, because she rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him back without an ounce of uncertainty. His hand is free this time, so he rests it on her waist carefully, and enjoys a sweet breath of spring.

XXX

Sasuke arrives at Ichiraku’s at six on the dot to find both of his teammates already there, with an empty seat left between them and three glasses of water on familiar currant red counters. He is unsurprised to see that Kakashi’s not here yet. There’s an empty seat to Naruto’s left that is clearly being saved for their old sensei using one of Naruto’s sandals, off his foot; it’s pretty busy, being a Saturday night. He also notes Sakura’s tote bag situated beneath the counter, underneath the stool she’s sitting on; perhaps her afternoon with Ino went longer than anticipated, and she hasn’t had time to go home yet.

Both of them turn their heads as he approaches, brightening and greeting him in unison beneath fluorescent lighting.

“Teme!”

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.”

It is terribly nostalgic. He takes the place between them, responding, “Sakura. Dobe.” The streets themselves are busy, but within the actual enclosure of Ichiraku’s, it’s not as loud.

“We haven’t ordered yet,��� Sakura tells him good-naturedly, smiling and pushing him a menu. His gaze lingers on her for a second before looking down at it. She’s pretty beneath fluorescent lighting, too.

“We’re not fucking waiting for Kakashi-sensei, though. I’m hungry , and who knows when he’ll turn up? He’s probably reading one of his stupid books and lost track of time again,” Naruto grumbles, peckish, from his other side. His friend’s stomach growls, as if on cue.

Sakura laughs, then sighs from his right. “He’s probably lost in a pile of paperwork. At least this time it might be true.”

“...He might be trying to finish breaking the cipher on that scroll you can’t seem to solve,” Sasuke quips smugly towards his left, eyeing the menu, though he doesn’t really need to; he knows his order already.

He is way too satisfied by Naruto’s huff. “Ugh, I’m fucking sick of staring at that thing. It makes me feel like my brain is melting. I wish he’d just give me a mission. I want to fight something.”

“I’m sure you’ll both get one eventually,” Sakura remarks with confidence. “Try to enjoy the peacetime a little. It’s a good thing. Besides, if you really want to, you can just go battle it out at the training grounds...” She eyes them both with a critical and calculating scrutiny now, a single pink brow arched and something in her tone shifting. “...Though by the bruising, I’m sure that’s already happened.”

There is a fist shaped smear of violet he knows is on his forearm, clearly visible from her vantage point. At least his ribs are hidden; there are nasty bruises on three of them from the first spar, and another two developing from this morning. Naruto looks a little scared, when he glances over at him; despite the fact that the blond is laughing nervously, his hand is held awkwardly, obviously trying to shield the bruise he has on his chin, turning purplish-blue by now.

It was another draw. Sasuke expects he’ll be able to beat him, next time. He’s found he’s a bit rusty, not having too many excuses to use his more advanced techniques in a long while.

Sakura rolls her eyes after a tense moment, and the spell is broken. “If either of you break anything, just don’t be stupid; come to the hospital or my place so I can fix it.”

“Sure, sure, anything you say, Sakura-chan!” The dobe responds next to him, hesitant laughter still tinged a little with fear. Sasuke nods, then thinks for about the fifth time today that he’s going to see her apartment tonight.

Once Sasuke slides the menu back, Naruto catches Teuchi’s attention; the blond orders garlic tonkotsu, Sasuke orders hakata tonkotsu, and Sakura orders shoyu ramen. It’s the same as what they used to get when they were kids.

It’s a nice evening for this, he thinks.

“So what’s new at the hospital, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks conversationally. “Anything exciting?”

Sasuke shifts his gaze to his right, where Sakura looks as if she’s giving it a lot of thought, lips shifted to the side; he forces his eyes upward. “Eh, nothing too exciting, yet. Just appointments and research, for the most part. I’ve got some long-term projects I’m working on, but I’m just kind of waiting to see how the data pans out at this point while I monitor. It’ll be another month or so yet for anything concrete there, I think.” She cocks her head to the side a little. “I’ve got a transplant patient we’re waiting on an organ for, so we’ve been trying to prep her so she’s ready; different medicinal cocktails, testing, and such.” She pauses. “Tsunade-shishou sent over some things that arrived this morning, though, and one of them was a sample of a new poison found in a few Shinobi in Wind. I guess that’s… interesting. She’s going to work on it, too, so hopefully we get an antidote quickly, but I started some tests on it today.”

Sasuke’s lips turn downwards. That doesn’t sound good.

“Ehhh, between you and Granny Tsunade, I’m sure you’ll find an antidote soon!” Naruto chirps positively from his left. Then he quiets, in a manner that suggests he’s cogitative. “How bad?”

“Well, it’s slow enough progression-wise that they’ll live if we find an antidote in time; they’ve got at least a month, we think. Maybe more, if Tsunade-shishou keeps siphoning it out via the Delicate Illness Extraction Technique. It’s not... pleasant for the patient, obviously, but it works. She’s already run most of the preliminary tests; calcium chloride, pyridoxine, sodium bicarbonate, so we at least have some stuff ruled out.,, There might be others eventually, though, so it would be best to nip it in the bud and have an antidote readily available, really.”

“...What do you know about it so far?” Sasuke asks. “In terms of the type of toxin.” Having been dosed numerous times with poisons to build up resistance, he knows he is essentially immune to many of them, but a new one popping up is never something one should disregard in their line of work.

Jade shifts to him. “We suspect it might be a mixture of several venoms, plus a heavy neurotoxin. Epinephrine doesn’t work at all, though; that’s why we’re leaning towards it being a combo. Something has to be continuing the effects while that cycles through the system.”

Neurotoxins are troublesome; a mixture with it is nothing to scoff at. “It causes paralysis?” He questions.

Sakura inclines her head in a nod. “Immediately after Tsunade-shishou uses the Extraction Technique, though, they gain some movement back, so if we can find an antidote, it won’t be permanent.”

There is a contemplative silence.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re gonna kill a lot of rats,” Naruto finally jokes from his left, gauche as ever and clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“They’re mice, not rats,” Sakura responds, rolling her eyes. “But yes. We probably will. Necessary sacrifice, I suppose.”

There is a substantial length of time that feels heavy, even with the distant background noise of people going about their evening.

Sakura is the one to break it. “What about you, Naruto? Anything new? Hinata’s on a mission, I heard. What have you been doing to fill the time?”

Sasuke glances back to his left, where Naruto is grinning suspiciously.

“You mean other than kicking the shit out of teme?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. “As I recall, both spars were draws, dead last .”

Naruto laughs, unbothered and waving his hand jokingly. “Eh, really I dunno. Mostly just helping Kakashi-sensei at the office. He’s torturing me with homework , since Hinata-chan’s gone.”

Suddenly their food is being placed in front of them. His smells good, charred pork belly swimming in spring onion, nori, mushrooms, noodles, and ginger. Sakura says thank you to Teuchi, and then he hears her break her chopsticks. She doesn’t miss a beat. “Hypothetical mission assemblages again?”

Naruto groans as he snaps his own chopsticks. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare. I know most of the people our age fine enough, but you basically have to memorize everyone’s abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, or you spend hours doing it because you have to refer to The Binder.” The way the dobe articulates The Binder makes it sound ominous.

“Huh. Now that I know it’s a nightmare, I’ll make sure to give you even more of it,” a familiar voice lilts behind them.

The three of them turn, and Kakashi is behind them, clad in simple Jonin dress instead of Hokage robes, for all appearances completely unbothered by the fact that he’s nearly twenty minutes late.

All three of them give him a withering look, slightly tinged with nostalgia, and say nothing.

“Sorry. Got lost in a pile of paperwork.”

Their old sensei removes Naruto’s shoe from his saved seat, and places it directly on the blond’s head. It promptly falls off and nearly lands in the idiot’s bowl of ramen as he splutters to catch it. Kakashi orders hakata tonkotsu without even glancing at the menu, same as Sasuke.

“So. Isn’t this nice,” The Hokage drawls. “How are we all? Enjoying the springtime?”

“It’s good! Hinata-chan planted a garden! We’re gonna have broccoli, and sweet potatoes, and maybe even pumpkin!” Naruto responds as he shoves his shoe unceremoniously back onto his foot before reaching for his chopsticks again.

“The weather has been nice," Sakura pipes up from behind him, though her tone of voice makes it sound as though more than that has been nice. Something in him twists pleasantly.

“...It’s good,” Sasuke comments last, before taking another bite of his food. It’s an understatement.

Kakashi looks content, head nodding in agreement. “Everything’s really greening up. I think it’s going to be a good year. No wars on the horizon, either, at least that I know of; that’s always preferable. Gets one into a reflective headspace.”

“About what, having time to read porn in your office?” Naruto quips sarcastically in between inhaling bites of bean sprouts and noodles, though Kakashi doesn’t seem at all fazed. Sasuke hasn’t seen any orange books in the times he’s visited the Hokage’s office so far, but he’d been sure they were stowed somewhere within easy access.

“Can’t a Hokage take a break to enjoy fine literature once in a while?” Their old sensei asks good-naturedly, but Naruto rolls his eyes as Sasuke, and he assumes Sakura, continue to eat their food at a normal pace.

“Fine literature? As if ! You forget I’ve read all those books. They’re full of good ideas, sure, but they’re still fucking porn ! And anyways, no, you can’t take a break. Not when you’re piling homework on me like I’m in the Academy still. I know , by the way.”

Now Kakashi’s smile turns a little nervous. To most people, the change would be imperceptible, but it’s there for those that know him well. “Know what, exactly?”

The blond’s eyes narrow accusingly. “That you’re actually using my homework to put together squads for real fucking missions! I shouldn’t have to find out from Shikamaru. In the Academy, they expel kids for that shit.”

Judging by the caught expression on Kakashi’s face, there is at least some element of truth to this, which means Naruto must be doing an okay job, at the very least. Interesting .

“So a sensei isn’t allowed to appreciate and value the advice of a cherished student?”

“Whatever. Just keep giving me days off when Hinata-chan’s home and maybe I won’t tattle to the other kages.”

Kakashi smiles. “I can do that.”

There is a beat where everyone besides their sensei is quiet, taking a few bites of their food. Sasuke’s is good; he’s hungry. Going near all out against Naruto has given him a little more of an appetite, the past few days. He’s been trying to eat more, as Sakura suggested.

“Sakura, I received an interesting letter from Tsunade today.” their old sensei drawls after a bit. Sasuke shifts slightly. She’s swallowing a bite, and looking curious.

“About the poison?”

Sasuke glances back to his left in time to see Kakashi nod. “The poison, and also other worthwhile projects. Let me know if you need any funding for such things, and I’ll find a way to take care of it.”

Sasuke wonders what kinds of projects, but assumes it might be rather confidential when Sakura blinks, then nods, answering simply, “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei; it’s greatly appreciated.” Perhaps it has to do with her research.

Naruto finishes off his first bowl, and orders another. Now that he’s not inhaling food, he begins chattering again.

“So anyways, when are you gonna send us all on a mission together again?! I feel like I’ve been trapped in that office with you like an old croney for eighty-four years.”

Suddenly Kakashi appears very tired, eyes narrowing in exhaustion. “If you feel trapped now, I’d hate to see how you feel in five years or so.” He pauses, as Naruto narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms. “I have a lost cat mission you could complete, I suppose. Or would you rather clean up the river? It’s good weather for it. Water’s warming up.”

Naruto looks at him indignantly. “As if. I want a real mission!! One that suits our strengths.”

The way Kakashi considers Naruto then is fond. Sasuke vaguely recollects a time where Naruto begged the Third for a ‘real’ mission a long time ago; that must be what he’s remembering.

“Well, the problem with that is that Sakura formally outranks you,” he finally retorts. His food shows up a second after he finishes talking.

Naruto groans. “This shit again?” Sasuke assumes this must be a running thing Kakashi likes to hold over his friend’s head. Technically it’s correct; Sakura had told him she’d made Jonin at the exams in Earth Country a while back, in one of her earlier letters. He’s sure she could have made Jonin sooner, but she’d been occupied with things at the hospital, he thinks. Naruto and himself, meanwhile, had never taken the exams, though it hadn’t affected their ability to take A and S-rank missions, given their role in ending the war; they held honorary Jonin positioning in all but the actual title itself, and weren’t held back from missions because of it in any way, but still, Sakura is the only one of their team that has taken them officially and passed. Naruto had told him that Tsunade didn’t want to promote Sakura like that, despite her contribution in ending the war, too; he’d assumed it was because the Fifth didn’t care for Sakura’s promotion to be in any way weighed down by assumptions of nepotism, especially with her taking over the hospital. Kakashi hadn't, either; he'd assumed for the same reason. Naruto and Sasuke getting special treatment regarding what missions they can accept is fine, because currently they hold no official titles, but with Sakura heading the hospital, it’s a different matter.

“How many times are you gonna hold that over my head?! Quit fucking around already. It’s not my fault Granny Tsunade wanted to show Sakura-chan off to all five nations, and besides, I was literally there, so it’s not like I don’t know.”

Sasuke blinks in sudden interest, as Kakashi quips, “If you were there, why didn’t you take the exams yourself? I seem to remember someone getting banned from the Kage’s seating area. That looks great for a future Hokage candidate, by the way, and was fun to try to de-escalate with the elders of Earth Country. Maybe you could have set a better example if you had also been taking the exams… Though I suppose it would have been embarrassing for you when Sakura beat you in three seconds flat.”

Sakura laughs a little to his right as if she is amused as Naruto complains some more, while Sasuke considers that he has never been given a detailed account of her performance at those exams, though he’s sure it was excellent. He’ll have to ask her or Naruto about it.

Naruto’s still whining. “Come ooooon. Just ONE teensy little mission. No bullshit. We’re all back; you basically have to, it’d be illegal NOT to. It can even be a B-rank.”

Kakashi doesn’t miss a beat. “I have a nice C-rank you two could probably handle.” Sasuke twitches a little, because he knows that’s directed at him, too, now. “Simple escort to Sand. Don’t want to take a prestigious Jonin away from her important work at the hospital, though, for such a measly thing.”

Sakura’s laugh twinkles. “Send Shikamaru. I’m sure he’d love to go.”

Kakashi grins, as if he is in on a joke. “Yes, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru. That would be an interesting team, to say the least, though perhaps a little overpowered. I’ll think it over… If nothing comes up that we desperately need Shikamaru for, that is.”

Naruto grumbles and turns to finish emptying his second bowl of ramen as Sasuke surmises inwardly, finishing off his own, that it would be an interesting team, even if it was just an escort. From what he knows, Nara is a capable leader and excellent strategist. He’s sure Shikamaru doesn’t like him very much, which is more than fair, but watching Naruto annoy someone else for a change would make the heated trek to Sand bearable. He wonders what Sakura’s comment was about, though. Maybe it was sarcasm, regarding most peoples’ general disdain for the sweltering weather there.

Sasuke notices, as he pushes his bowl forward, now empty, that Kakashi still hasn’t touched his food. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on that. When he glances to his right, he sees that Sakura has finished hers, too.

The restaurant is starting to clear out a little, it being closer to seven now. Naruto finally stops mumbling insults towards Kakashi, and instead peers at him as if he’s waiting for something. Maybe he wants to go home; his friend might have plans after this, though he’s not sure what they would be, given his wife is away.

“...Sorry to disappoint you, Sasuke, but we’ve been less than honest about dinner tonight,” Kakashi begins after meeting Naruto’s gaze. Sasuke’s brow furrows in puzzlement, and the dobe starts grinning smugly. When he glances the other way towards Sakura, she smiles, too, and looks a little guilty.

“It is also… a housewarming party.” The Hokage grins. “Though we thought we’d just have it here, and you could take your gifts home with you tonight.”

Sasuke frowns. “You didn’t need to-”

Naruto butts in, indignant and cutting him off accusingly with a pointed finger, “And don’t even TRY to say no, because I got you the best gift.” Sasuke has a brief premonition of his sparse kitchen cabinets suddenly filled with a month’s supply of instant ramen, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. The dobe motions to Teuchi, gesturing towards the inner portion of the ramen stand, just below the counter. Sasuke then recalls the bag beneath Sakura’s chair, and frowns deeper, turning to her; though he’s sure the shoe box was free, she’s already given him the drying rack, which he’s sure was not. She didn’t need to get him anything else.

She just grins at him, eyes flashing with mirth as if she finds this amusing. He’s about to say something - he’s not sure what - when Naruto taps him on the shoulder. He turns, and the most poorly wrapped gift he has ever seen in his life comes into focus, a long thin mess of too much tape and intensely colorful paper, scrunched together haphazardly as if put together by a child with little motor control, and shoved directly into his face.

“...Why did you wrap it?”

His best friend rolls his eyes. “Because it’s a PRESENT, jackass. Besides, you guys wrapped yours too, right?!”

When Naruto looks from their old sensei to their teammate, Kakashi wears a jovial smile that tells him he didn’t, and Sakura doesn’t say anything behind him, but Naruto narrows his eyes, and that’s enough to tell him that she didn’t, either. “What the fuck, you guys are the worst! This is supposed to be a party!!”

Naruto sets the gift down on the counter in front of him, and Sasuke frowns at it stubbornly for a short while. The three of them are staring at him expectantly, though, so he sighs and reluctantly starts to peel the shoddy wrapping job away, curious as to where the idiot got instant ramen that comes in a long skinny box. He’s careful as he peels, so the paper doesn’t fly away in little chunks and litter the restaurant or the ground around them.

His brow creases as he peels away the final bit of paper and tape, because it’s not ramen, after all. Naruto’s gift is a paring board of a unique design, new from the store in an unopened box. The picture shows a maple wood finish, but with small skewers jutting vertically from it on the bottom center, on which one can spear vegetables or fruit to help hold it in place while slicing. It also has a corner guard on the upper left with an edge sealer to help keep other things one wants to slice, like bread or sushi, secure. In addition, it says it has silicone feet, so it doesn’t move around when you use it.

He didn’t know anything like this even existed. It is a surprisingly thoughtful and helpful gift, one that he’s sure comes from a deep understanding of the challenges that come with living with one arm, though Naruto has had the prosthetic, now, for a while.

Sasuke studies it for a long moment, genuinely touched. “...It’s nice. Thank you.” Truth be told, it’s more than nice, and will be incredibly useful. He won’t have to summon a clone anymore to cut things.

Naruto laughs and slaps him on the back, prompting Sasuke to glare at him. “Beat that, losers!” Kakashi smiles and casts his eye towards Sakura behind him, so Sasuke turns, brows furrowed again. She’s pulling a white container out of her bag, now in her lap, and then sliding it on the countertop next to Naruto’s gift.

He can see now that it’s a first aid kit. He looks back to her, meeting green eyes and slightly tinged cheeks. “I thought there might be some things you didn’t have, after traveling for so long.”

This is odd, because all ninja travel with a rudimentary first aid kit at the bare minimum, and Sakura of all people knows this; it’s an occupational hazard and frankly foolish not to. He stares at it as if it is a riddle, trying to figure out what could possibly be inside. Perhaps medicine or painkillers? Even those come in standard first aid kits for ninja, though. A hefty stock of food pills? He supposes he could take those on missions with him, if needed.

He’s sure both Kakashi and Naruto are thinking the same thing, but they don’t comment on it.

Finally, he responds, meeting her eyes, “Thank you.” He’ll open it later, when he’s alone, to see what’s actually in it. She really didn’t need to get him anything.

Her smile grows wider, and her eyes catch the light, gilded fervor that he thinks he could drown in. “You’re welcome.” After a beat, she glances at Kakashi, so Sasuke tears his irises away from flashing jade iridescent with metallic lambency and turns, too. When he does, he sees that Kakashi’s bowl is now empty. He tries to resist an annoyed twitch; he doesn’t know how he keeps pulling this off, after so many years.

Then his old sensei reaches into his vest and pulls out what appears to be a frame; it must have been tucked there this whole time, for safekeeping, out of sight.

When he reaches past Naruto to gift it to him, Sasuke realizes it’s their original Team Seven picture, in the frame he saw sitting on Kakashi’s desk the other day.

His eyes sting as it’s pressed into his hand, thoughts of mask hypervigilance forgotten in an instant in favor of an overwhelming sense of plenary peace and belonging. There is a small inner voice emanating from a house lined with dark wood and darker penchants, gnawing and protesting that he is deeply undeserving, but he extinguishes it for now, just for tonight; the world is not going to end because Kakashi gave him a picture rife with memories. Fighting to remain detached is what got him into trouble in the first place.

Sasuke blinks a few times, and a paper-thin layer of sediment peels away, messy and getting everywhere, like the wrapping paper he tried to collect earlier to avoid a similar problem. Then he utters, “Thank you,” quietly, but loud enough for all three of them to hear.

“No problem. I can get another copy developed from the village archives for my desk,” Kakashi replies, smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”

Time passes somehow both quickly and slowly. The four of them sit there for well over another hour, visiting casually about topics that aren’t as heavy as perplexing poisons. Sasuke moreso listens than genuinely communicates, but he comments every now and then.

Naruto chatters about an elaborate date he’s going to take Hinata on when she gets back to the village, involving feeding ducks at her favorite pond. Sakura mentions that he should bring cinnamon rolls, because that is Hinata’s favorite treat, and Naruto exclaims that he knows, but he also asks Teuchi for a pen to write a reminder on his hand, so he doesn’t forget to pick them up the day after tomorrow when she’s supposed to get back.

Kakashi mentions how he’s supposed to be getting some new mission requests in on Monday morning, so he might have something for Sasuke by then; the dobe is indignant when it doesn’t also include him, and launches into another five minute whining session.

Sakura tells a story about Sai and a misunderstanding involving an order of art supplies that she heard from Ino that morning; apparently, Ino works at the hospital on occasion, both to do some part-time medic duties and to help Sakura, which Sasuke was unaware of. Naruto shudders when Sakura brings up Sai, Ino, and art supplies; Sasuke gets the distinct impression that there is a story there, but doesn’t ask.

It is a little after eight when Kakashi mentions quite astutely that everyone is probably tired and should get going. Naruto laughs mischievously, then, meeting Sasuke’s eyes.

“Teme, what do ya say to all of us going out for a drink or two after this? There’s a fun place just down the road from here.”

Sasuke blinks, because that sounds objectively terrible on any night, let alone a Saturday, and it is not the first time since his return to the village that Naruto has mentioned going to drink; he really wants to get him drunk for some reason. Even though Kakashi has just said they should wrap it up, he looks at Sasuke as if waiting for a response anyways, as though he would actually go with them if they all chose to.

“Can’t. I have plans.”

Naruto huffs and grumbles under his breath about the plans probably involving training or reading or watching his laundry air dry. “Alright, alright. But you can’t escape it forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to accept.”

Sasuke smirks, then. “If you can beat me in a spar, I’ll go. Dobe.”

A fire has been lit in blue eyes. “You’re ON.”

Kakashi then sets enough money on the counter for all four of them, at which point they all begin to stand. Sasuke and Sakura both say thank you, but Naruto begins protesting that if he knew he was buying, he would have eaten more. Kakashi smiles cryptically. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. The Hokage position pays lucratively, but I know from experience you’ll eat me out of house and home.”

Naruto and Kakashi wave goodbye and set out to the west, in the general direction of their respective residences. Sasuke and Sakura both watch them go with something like amusement; he can hear Naruto complaining until he’s halfway down the street, which is a feat, because this area of town is still quite busy.

He turns to the gifts and stacks them carefully in preparation to leave, finally; they are all flat, so they’ll be easy enough to carry. They really didn’t need to get him anything... but he is appreciative, gaze lingering on them for a little longer than an instant.

Sakura is smiling at him when he turns to her, weight shifted to the side casually. “Do you want to drop those off first, or bring them with you?”

Sasuke thinks of the time; he still doesn’t know when she usually goes to sleep. “...I can bring them with.”

Her lips quirk upwards more, and she nods. They start walking east, him gripping the gifts carefully.

The moon has risen a bit higher in the sky by now; the streets appear much like a desaturated dreamscape, cloaking everything in a layer of alleviation. They pass under street lights casting flaxen ambiance, as well as other smaller hints of glow from various lit-up signage, tinctorial flashes washing over them both occasionally, only to be rinsed clean as they pass into astronomical dusk again. Sakura’s hair is surprisingly reflectant, brief notes of neons catching atop pale pink: electric blue, candy red, apple green.

“Naruto’s going to hold you to that bet, you know,” Sakura pipes up to his right once they’ve made it a block away, tilting her head upwards, expression soaked with mirth.

“Tch. Don’t remind me.” She laughs a little in response. It’s a lovely sound, dulcet in his ears.

They’re coming up on a bar that appears to be pretty crowded, people spilling out onto the street outside. Wordlessly, they both change course to cross to the other side of the street, avoiding the gathering of people, for which he is appreciative; he’s still not much one for crowds. They’re almost to the main stretch of road where they’ll turn south to go to Sakura’s; just two more blocks and the people should disperse a bit.

As they cross, Sakura informs him, “I’m pretty sure that’s the one he was talking about, by the way.”

“...Great,” He murmurs, frowning. He really doesn’t drink often. A place like that wouldn’t do much to encourage him to.

“It’s not so bad, if you go on a weeknight. Less people.”

He considers, then questions, “...Have you gone drinking with him?”

She averts her eyes, as if she’s a little embarrassed. “A few times... Usually it’s for celebrations, though, not just us. Birthdays, that sort of thing. I’ve gone with Ino more.” She ponders for a bit longer, as if shuffling through memories. “I guess I’ve gone with him and Kakashi-sensei a couple of times, though we don’t always go to that one. Once we went with Tsunade-shishou to that casino.”

Sasuke is pretty sure he knows the answer to his next question, but he asks it anyway. “...Is he any good at gambling?”

A short but rich giggle blooms from her throat that makes his lip twitch upwards. “No. His betting history is just as bad as shishou. He’s worse at baccarat than she is, actually, which is quite an accomplishment. She hadn’t won in a long time, before she beat him.”

It stands to reason that Naruto would be bad at table games, but the fact that he’s bad at arguably one of the easiest ones to learn amuses him more than it should. “...Will probably be awhile before I get dragged with him, then.”

“Probably,” Sakura agrees.

They turn south towards her apartment, and sure enough, the people milling about in the streets begin to thin. Being a Saturday night, there are more lights on than usual around this time, but they’ve arrived into an area of town that doesn’t really cater to a night crowd like bars do; the lit windows here are mostly residential.

Plants are continuing to unfurl everywhere in Konoha, though the rain tomorrow will probably be good for them. It stands to reason that it will get even more lush, after; perennials are starting to bud back to life, soon to join the annuals already adorning most buildings’ exteriors and windowsills. There’s a breeze picking up tonight, too, slightly shuffling leaves and the fabric of awnings attached to the buildings they walk past, a quiescent whispering that seemingly drowns out the usual sound of crickets. It might be cold enough for soup tomorrow; he’s looking forward to it.

Sakura notices, too. “Kakashi was right; everything is greening up. The rain will do some good tomorrow; we haven’t had some in a bit.”

“...Probably,” he echoes her words from earlier. Her hair is fluttering a little in the wind, too, eye-catching and gossamery. Sasuke wonders if it’s still soft like silk. He had accidentally felt it several times, on various missions when they were younger.

They reach her building, and she noiselessly opens the glass door for him. Sasuke steps aside so she can pass after she shuts it behind them. Then he’s following her up the stairway, something like anticipation unfurling in him, much like the greenery he noticed on the way here.

Sakura unlocks her door, glancing back at him for a moment with her hand lingering on the doorknob. Then she turns to push it open, and he trails behind her carefully.

He follows her into a small enclosed area - a dedicated entryway - with a threshold straight ahead leading into the rest of the space. It is dim until Sakura flips on the light of a compact but surprisingly luminous lamp to their right, and he sees that the entryway area itself is painted the color of pale cream. The floor beneath them is aged wood, light in color, that appears to extend into the rest of the dwelling. A single wall-mounted shelf floats to the left that holds several multifarious storage containers: one woven, one white, one that looks like an antiquated rice basket. Out of the top of the last one peeks the well-worn handle of a spade; it must be gardening supplies. Beneath the shelf are hooks studded to the wall; Sakura is stepping towards them to shrug off her bag and hang it from one of them, next to a green jacket and a red and pink coat with fur trim.

There is a console table made of aged wood that near matches the shelf - white oak, he thinks, because it’s not as richly colored as normal oak - to the right. It might be an antique; it is close in color and stain to the flooring, though not an exact match. Her fiction book from the other day sits atop it, a bookmark protruding from around halfway through its pages; he assumes she must keep any non-work-related library books there, when she’s not reading them. Beneath the table is a patterned rug in neutral tones, on which rest a small collection of sandals that are not entirely lined up straight, as well as a pair of green rainboots. It is the only part of the entryway that does not appear overly organized.

Sasuke begins to toe off his sandals as Sakura does, too. She crosses over to the table and opens up one of the drawers, placing her lanyard of keys inside. “You can set your gifts here, if you’d like,” she offers helpfully, gesturing to the table and sounding almost shy, so he does. He turns to grab his sandals and sets them neatly on the rug beneath the table.

She reaches beyond the enclosing wall to the other side, flipping what must be a lightswitch; the rest of the overhead lights in the next area of space flood on. She angles her head back towards him, shifting her weight to the side a little. “I’m afraid it won’t be as long of a tour as Naruto’s.”

It’s small, but cozy. They step into an open space with a wall trailing to the right and openness extending to the left, which houses her living room. The ceilings are high for an apartment this size; it makes it feel bigger. Two towering bookshelves line the west and south walls, and a small dining table sits in front of the window on the north end, over which hangs a simple but worn pendant light, sap green in color; it is reminiscent of the kinds one usually sees at indoor markets. Between the two spaces lies a comfortable-looking sage green couch, classic but also well-worn, placed in front of a small entertainment center. He notices that the furniture pieces are all of slightly different construction, not a matching set, though the colors of everything are very similar to the flooring. On top of the surfaces are various decorative knick knacks: little glass jars in varied colors with dried flowers, another lamp, a candle. The entire open area is painted a pale, pale desaturated viridian; Sasuke likes the color. From what he can see of the room past the expanse of wall to their right, it is painted a different color - linen white.

“Sai and Ino helped me with the paint colors when I moved in.” She pauses. “Well, Sai helped. Ino mostly just helped narrow down color selection. It needed painting anyways; my landlady said I could do pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t black or something.” She walks over to the lamp on the end table by the sofa, and switches it on. Then she wanders over to switch the pendant light over the table on, too.

Sasuke nods, still absorbing. There is an expanse of framed photos to his right, on the space leading up to what must be the kitchen. There are many, leading all the way down the wall, arranged in more of a collage fashion than straight across. He scans them quickly, and is surprised to see that their original Team Seven photo isn't among them. He knows it must be elsewhere in her apartment; she is too sentimental to not have it displayed somewhere. It makes him consider where he’s going to put the one Kakashi has given him.

“The layout is kind of unique,” Sakura continues, walking back towards him through the living room area. “There’s not really room for a dining table in the kitchen, so that table over there-” She motions towards where she just was, in front of the north window, “-is used for that. It’s kind of nice, that way; you can look out the window when you eat.” Sasuke notes upon further inspection that there are a few small plants sitting in the window there, similar coloring to the ones on her doorstep. A thriving jasmine plant is hung higher up, against the glass, fronds twisting downwards. He finds he can picture Sakura eating there easily.

Sakura crosses over into what he assumes is the kitchen; he follows, and notes as he does so that there is a faint aroma of tea, though it is a challenge to place the flavor. It’s simple, but with nice floor to ceiling white cabinetry, aside from a single area in the corner where there is open shelving of the same wood finish, as well as a window on the east wall, over the sink. This one appears to be lined with a small herb garden, more mismatched terracotta pots perched in the windowsill. The countertops here are also wood, in a similar colorway as the rest of the wood he’s seen so far. Most of what’s stored on the open shelving appears to be general dry goods, flour and sugar and oatmeal in clear containers. There is also a fern-colored teapot, decorated with a white floral design, sitting on the end of the shelf for easiest access; she must make tea often. There is a knife set on the counter, as well as a few ceramic containers holding various utensils such as whisks and wooden spoons. Nothing appears out of place, and there are no dishes in the sink; she must keep it pretty tidy. In the only empty corner, there is what he assumes is a pantry door, as well as a small wooden stool. He realizes then that she must not be tall enough to reach the top of the cupboards.

“Sai said keeping it a lighter color would make it look bigger. I think it helps. It’s pretty nice, otherwise.” She glances at him, then away, slightly flushed as if she’s nervous. He realizes, reciprocally, that he is kind of nervous, too, being in her space with her alone.

“Not much left but the hallway,” she adds after a moment, leading him out of the kitchen and further, to a hallway leading east. There are three doors towards the end of it; one to the left, one in the middle, and one to the right. Two of the three are sitting open; the small room straight ahead holds a stacked washer and dryer, as well as cabinets that match the ones in the kitchen. Once he follows her a few more steps, he sees a hamper, as well. The walls appear to be painted a lilac color in the laundry room, slightly darker in hue than the rest of her space thus far. The flooring is different, too, in the laundry room; a white tile, inlaid with a touch of black sparingly in a symmetrical pattern. The style of it is very in tune with the age of the building, reminiscent of an older time.

“Left door is the bedroom.” She gestures towards the closed door, then points to the next one. “Middle is the laundry room; that’s also where I keep any cleaning stuff, like the broom or mop.” She nods then towards the bathroom, so he steps closer to peer inside; it is painted a light sand color, with the same white tile accented with black, only here it also goes halfway up the wall. “And that’s the bathroom.” The same white cabinets appear here, too. It has a tub/shower combination, and a plain white shower curtain. It appears spotlessly clean. A window lies above the sink on the east wall, with another hanging plant dangling in front of it, towards the corner so it’s not in full light all of the time; it looks like a satin pothos. There is also a small wicker stool, on which are folded powder-white towels, and a small glass tabletop lamp, an interesting statement in a bathroom.

He remembers that there are three lamps she’s turned on already. She must not like hard lighting. He tries to resist the urge to smile, because neither does he.

“It’s nice,” he compliments as they make their way back to the living room area. It’s more than nice; he really likes it. Everything about it is as her as he expected it to be, more of a home than an apartment, eclectic combinations painting a picture very indicative of the life she lives here. Sasuke muses that it is especially characteristic of her that she would like different colors throughout the rooms, and that the colors fit their respective spaces well. He finds himself wondering what color she selected for her room, what color she deemed the most calming, though obviously he would never ask.

A deep blush inks it way onto her skin, and she smiles, seeming very pleased. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” Her gaze flits away, then back again. “Would you want to maybe watch something? I could make some tea, decaf, if you’d like.”

He nods.

“Okay; I can show you what I have.”

They go back into the kitchen. She opens one of the cabinets, the one nearest the teapot; the entire bottom shelf is filled with packaged tea, labeled jars of loose leaf, sugar, and a container of honey. The shelf above it contains teacups that match the teapot, and more jars of loose leaf, though these ones are labeled caffeine free. There are a few small boxes of packaged tea there, too; she must sort them separately based on caffeine content. The third shelf contains a few miscellaneous mugs and glasses. It’s quite a collection; he understands the mixed aromatics of different tea flavors he noticed earlier. It’s unique, enjoyable without being overwhelming, small hints of sweet spice and citrus drifting into the kitchen space more now that the cabinet door is ajar.

“Most of my packaged teas have more specific flavors, desserts and things like that,” Sakura mentions. “For loose leaf, I’ve got quite a few; caffeine-free ones are oolong, chamomile, lemon ginger, jasmine…” She shifts some of the jars to the side of the middle cabinet to reveal the ones behind it. “Silver needle, white coconut creme, Earl Grey, caramelized pear…”

“...Earl Grey sounds good,” Sasuke murmurs, moving slightly out of the way. She tips her head in acknowledgment before pulling that jar down, then reaching for the teapot.

“I’ll make some; I like Earl Grey at night. Do you want any cream or lemon or anything like that in yours? I have some in the fridge.” She moves to start the water boiling, removing the strainer from the teapot before she fills it. After it’s on the stove, she begins sifting loose leaf from the jar into the strainer so it’s ready.

“...Lemon would be good.” He likes adding lemon to Earl Grey; it makes it more tart. He feels like he should help, so he adds, “I’ll get it. Do you want cream in yours?”

Jade eyes flick to his, and her cheeks color a little. “...Yes. It’s on the top shelf of the door. There’s…” She pauses, as if embarrassed. “There’s normal creamer there too, but I have a coconut milk sweet cream that I like with mine. Just a little bit. It’s… meant for coffee, but…” When he smiles knowingly back, she looks away, back towards the teapot.

He opens the fridge; it’s extremely well-stocked. He doesn’t hover too long before he reaches to grab a lemon and the creamer she mentioned from the door’s upper shelf, but he notes there is a large container of strawberry topping on the top shelf towards the front, as well as a clear container with what may be banana nut muffins. She really does have a sweet tooth, he thinks, amused.

He shuts the door, and she procures a small cutting board from another cupboard and a knife to slice the lemon into wedges. She’s also grabbed two teacups, the ones that match the teapot.

“Thank you.” She’s smiling as he sets down the lemon and the creamer. “I can finish making this, if you want to maybe pick what we watch?”

“...What would you like to watch?”

Sakura blinks. “I’m honestly fine with anything. I’ve got some movies in the cabinet of the entertainment center… Otherwise I have cable to flip through, too.”

She must not go to bed too early, since she mentioned movies. He decides to ask. “...When do you usually go to bed?”

Something in her eyes softens. “Usually ten or eleven. It’s my weekend now, though, so I can stay up late, if you pick something longer.”

He nods, and she turns to slice the lemon halves into quarters, so he pads back to her living room. When he opens the cabinet below the television, he finds it nearly filled to the brim with movies. He settles down to siphon through them, skimming through various synopses. He comes across five or six shoved to the corner of one side haphazardly; those must be the ‘bad’ movies she watches with Ino. The rest of them that he finds sound fairly interesting. He ultimately picks one called A Tale of Archery; the summary makes it sound like a period drama with a twist. As he sits there, he tries to remember the last time he watched a movie; it was probably after he returned to Konoha but before he left for his journey, a rather stupid one with Naruto in his old apartment.

This one should be better. He hopes, brows furrowed, that it’s one she likes; he assumes she must like most of them, given that she owns them.

Sasuke stands with it as Sakura comes out with the tea, cups placed on small plates with dainty teaspoons. “Oh, that’s a good one,” she mentions. His heart flutters, and he feels a little less nervous. He puts it into the player on the next shelf before standing as she sets her plate and cup on her coffee table.

“Thank you,” he says softly when she hands him his, two slices of lemon perched on the side.

She smiles at him, dimple appearing, before grabbing the remote and flicking on the television so it starts setting up. “Do you mind if I shut off the overhead lights? I’m... not much one for hard lighting.”

“Not at all.” The space will be well-lit without it, with the lamps.

He takes a seat on the sofa while she walks over near the entryway. Sasuke realizes now that the couch isn’t terribly big; probably just enough for one person to lie down on, if they wanted to. It’s comfortable, as he’d anticipated. He sets his plate and cup on her coffee table so he can squeeze the lemon wedge into it, grabbing the spoon to stir as the overhead lights go out.

With the lights off, it is very cozy.

Sakura takes a seat next to him, not too close, but not the furthest away she could be, either. She fast forwards through the opening portion of advertisements as he stirs.

By the time he brings the cup to his lips to take a sip, the opening credits are playing. She sets down the remote and stirs her own cup once more, before also taking a sip.

It’s good; flavorful but not too intense, with a hint of bergamot orange rind and maltiness. The lemon gives it a slightly more acidic twist. He’s not much one for creamer, unless he’s in a rare mood on a cold fall or winter day, but he can see how the coconut milk sweet cream would compliment the taste, if one liked sweet things.

“It’s good,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes for a moment.

She glows at the compliment; he can make out a blush in the dim lighting. He feels his own neck heat up.

The movie is pretty good. It tells the story of a bygone feudal era a long time ago, peasants and samurai and daimyos with estates sprawling across countrysides lined with rice paddies. An archer passes away, and his son follows in his footsteps and becomes respected competitively. The twist is that the father actually went into hiding, and returns at the end of the movie.

It’s close to eleven when it’s over. Their teacups sit on her coffee table, long emptied.

Sasuke feels very content, and a little loath to leave, if he’s being honest. She seems slightly tired when she meets his eyes, though, so he slowly stands and reaches for his plate and cup. She does the same, and he trails after her to the kitchen, following her lead; she empties the lemon rinds into the garbage, so he does too. She then rinses her cup clean in the sink, extending her hand for his after.

“...What time should I come over tomorrow?” He asks in a hushed tone, when she turns to him. He’s not sure if the walls are thin or not, and they’re in the kitchen, so it’s not against her neighbors’ unit or anything, but he still somehow feels he should speak quietly; it’s somewhat dark, dimly lit only by cast light from the lamp in the other room.

Her countenance changes to one of consideration. “I was thinking maybe around eleven? I should have lunch ready around then.” Her eyes flicker to his, and her lips curve upwards; he tries not to look at them too long. “If that’s okay.”

He nods. “I’ll be here, then.”

Her lips curve upwards more. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she offers softly. He turns, and she follows.

“Do you like avocado?” She asks him as they shuffle into her entryway, where he stoops to retrieve his shoes. “I was… thinking about making avocado grilled cheese, to go with the soup.”

He glances upwards. “...I do.” He’s never had a grilled cheese sandwich with avocado before, but it sounds like it would taste good. He wonders again what kind of soup she’ll make; she knows his food preferences well, and she hasn’t asked, so it must be something she knows he’ll like. It makes his heart flip behind his ribcage a little.

“Oh, good. I’ll make that, then.” Her eyes drop down to her feet for a second as he rises back to his full height, sandals situated; it’s hard to tell in the lack of light, just the one lamp turned on in here, but he’s pretty sure she’s blushing again.

Her next words are near a whisper. “Thank you for… hanging out.” Multi-faceted jade seeps into him again, seafoam ebbing around dark pupils. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, after yearning for it for so long. “I had a nice time.”

He takes a quiet step closer to her, heart suddenly twisting in his chest as he tries to swallow his nerves, because she looks so happy, and it’s making his breath get stuck inside his lungs.

“...Me, too,” he whispers, barely audible before his lips brush hers gently.

It feels different, kissing her in the privacy of her apartment rather than on her doorstep. It’s like they can finally take their time, no real chance of interruption. His mind comes up with the word intimate, and his neck warms. Her mouth is all plush affection, bergamot and lemon and a subtle sweetness, stirred, that isn’t too much, accented by berry. It makes him want to try all of the varieties she has in her cabinet, even the sweet ones, just to see what they taste like on her lips in the hours that follow.

Delicate hands brush his shoulders, fingertips skimming the lower part of his neck, subtle beckoning but also gentle, respectful of boundaries, so he decides to corrode, give in and do something that he has wanted to do for a very long time. He cups her cheek with his hand, careful and barely there, gingerly sweeping a thumb over flushed skin, gliding atop a freckle that rests further back on her cheekbone. He’s had it memorized since they were kids.

The strands of pink he inadvertently touches are as soft as he remembers.

Her face is ablaze when they draw back from each other, tender smile and viridescent eyes laced with ardency just for him. Warmth pools in his belly as he studies her, decay long soothed and forgotten as he carefully strokes her cheek once more before he pulls away.

“...Good night, Sakura.”

The dimple makes one last appearance for the evening. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

XXX

Sasuke opens the first aid kit upon his return to his apartment, having been curious about what was in it all evening. Vines grasp his heartstrings as he discovers what’s inside.

There are two jars of loose leaf sencha tea that he’s sure came from the tea place they’d visited together a few days ago; one is labeled caffeinated, the other decaffeinated. Along with it is a basic tea infuser, new in its package. There are also three blue packages of cough drops, mentho-lyptus flavor, so they won’t be sweet.

Jade irises, he thinks, are also mollifying, for when the corrosion is done, an aether easily risen into, floating to the top.

Sasuke brews a mug of the jar labeled decaffeinated to enjoy before he goes to bed, a helpful succedaneum with which to conclude an evening well spent. It's not exactly the same shade of green, he thinks, before taking it to his living room so he can look out his window as he savors it, but it's close.

[captain-yeet]

A Beautiful Way To Die

Pairing: Heidi x Fem!Reader

Summary; When you thought of death or the possibility of you dying, you never seriously considered the possibility of dying at the hands of a gorgeous vampire.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing, Heidi accidentally being creepy give her a break she's new to interacting with mortals and NOT eating them

Author's note: I've been wanting to write about Heidi for a while now because her character, even though we got so very little of it is fascinating (again thanks smeyer for making your side characters more interesting than the main ones). Also, am a simple gay.

Arising from your jet-lagged slumber, you'd hoped the beautiful blue, sunny skies you enjoyed yesterday would still be there. Sadly, your luck was out the window along with the welcoming warm weather.

You'd travelled to Italy with the intention of finally getting out into the world and having the freedom to explore and go your own path. Looking online for travel destinations was both a struggle and exciting! "Where should I go?" you wondered while scrolling through all your proposed options. None caught your eye until you landed on one listing;

Enjoy an enriching, quaint experience in the city of Volterra!

Nestled in the country hillsides of Italy, Volterra has a host of activities for you to enjoy, from historical site tours and many shopping locales, bars and more. From the Palazzo di Priori to the Volterra Cathedral... Come, and lose yourself in a city who's architecture is frozen in time.

You wandered the town, taking in the sites of all the old buildings around you. Even with the clouded sky above your head, Volterra was still a breathtaking place.

After an hour of wandering you came to a stop in the Palazzo, plopping down to sit by the large fountain. Hands resting under your chin, you entered a blissful, happy daydream.

Sighing dreamily, you let your eyes close.

You didn't notice the woman watching you attentively.

Heidi had been tasked with finding more humans to feed the guards and the masters themselves, her own hunger growing more ravenous by the day. She'd managed to lure in a few stray helpless tourists, but she still needed just a few more.

Striding through the streets with confidence, she halted as a sudden alluring scent hit her like wave. Mouth pooling with venomous saliva, she held in an instinctive growl. Where is that scent coming from? More so... who?

Following the mouthwatering aroma, she let herself be guided through the cobblestone streets of Volterra, the beast within her growling with glee as she got closer and closer to the human. Heidi had had many victims, many catches that she's reeled in from her "fishing" that have satisfied her, but none that made her yearn for blood more so than whoever it was that smelt like this.

She found herself in the Palazzo, her eyes desperately scanning every face, every scent of anyone who was nearby. She needed to know which it was.

Taking in another deep breath through her nose, the scent hit her again, and she found the poor helpless human.

A woman, who smelt better than anything she'd ever had before. Heidi sunk into the shadows of a nearby alley and studied you. You were plain, simple clothes and your eyes were currently closed as you enjoyed some blissful daydream. Her throat burned with thirst by this point, and as she watched you... something else began to grow.

Curiosity, was it? Heidi couldn't put her finger on it. Letting out an unnecessary huff, she decided to approach. I'll make sure to let Felix and Demetri know that this snack is strictly mine alone. Heidi put on her best smile and sauntered over to the human.

 “Pardon me, Miss?” a smooth voice called your attention away from your daydreaming. 

You jump in surprise as you turn your attention to the source of the voice that startled you. The owner of the voice was equally startling; her beauty blinded you, as she stood directly in front of the faint rays of sunlight you swore she was literally shining. The red dress she wore clung nicely to her body, an off the shoulder piece that only highlighted her best assets. Violet eyes gazed at you curiously, flicking from the art book open in your lap to your face. 

If angels were real, you’d believe this woman was one.

Unbeknownst to you, but the shock went both ways. Now that she was face-to-face with you, Heidi’s painted red lips had parted, an inaudible gasp to your ears escaping them.

A pull she had never experienced before took hold of the vampire. She needed to be near you - not just in the hunger sense, but more of a “If I am separated from this woman for any reason I will rip someone’s arm off” kind of way. At least, that is how Heidi would describe it.

Trying to shake herself out of her jumbled train of thought, she flashed you a quick smile, savouring the way it made your heart stutter. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here, are you new to Volterra?”

You nodded, gently smiling at the pretty woman. “I am, just passing through on my way to Venice.”

Heidi giggled. "Venice? That's quite the destination. And what brings you to Volterra?"

"I'm going on a tour here before I leave for Venice," you explained, none the wiser to the sudden shift in Heidi's demeanor. "I needed a place to stay since it was such a long trip, and..."

"What tour, if you don't mind my asking?"

You blinked. The woman was now very serious, the playful almost-flirtatious air about her gone. "In there, actually," you reply, pointing to the castle-like cathedral just behind her.

"I see."

Shit. Shit, shit, fuck! A string of curse words swam in Heidi's head in multiple languages. She can't go in there! But she's booked already, they'll be expecting her and we don't often get cancellations and if we do -

"I'm sorry, is there a problem?" You ask, growing more confused by the pretty lady as the seconds went by.

"Ah, hello Heidi."

You both turn your head to the rather tall man who had appeared at Heidi's side. He was quite the looker - very tall, heavy build and looked like he could break you in half with one hand.

"Felix, what are you doing here?" The woman - Heidi - says to her companion with an airy smile.

You didn't fail to notice the sharp look she had in her eyes.

"Just roaming about the city is all," the man replied coolly, a grin on his face that faltered into a curious smile when his gaze shifted to you. “And who might this lovely lady be? Perhaps a tour guest of the castle?”

With a laugh, Heidi linked her arm into Felix’s bicep, her fingernails digging deep into his arm. Under his breath Felix hissed and looked at Heidi with wide, confused eyes but she kept her airy exterior up perfectly.

 “Our tour bookings are full, Felix,” she said pointedly.

You looked on at the exchange feeling lost. There seemed to be some animosity between the two but why? You didn’t know. Maybe they were exes.

 “I see.” A thin, curt smile replaced his cocky grin from just moments ago. “Well then, I’ll meet up with you later. We’ll talk more then.” 

As the man left, Heidi left out a small huff and then turned back toward you, her brilliant smile bewitching you again. "Forgive him, he's always prowling during the tours for pretty young women to bore to death with his rants about his hobbies."

You giggled, grinning back at her. "I'll be sure to try and stay off his radar when tomorrow's tour begins."

Tomorrow's tour, Heidi's thoughts echoed your words. So she's coming in on that tour. Keeping her composure cool, she tilted her head down and gazed at you from beneath her eyelashes. Seduction tactics, only this time she was trying to steer her prey away. "Please beautiful, I want you to listen to me very closely."

Frowning at her sudden serious nature, you began to stand up from where you were perched, listening intently.

"Volterra has a lot to offer tourists, many fascinating sites to see. Our cathedral however... don't come. Please," she pleaded, her voice low and silky, "find somewhere else to go sight seeing."

You froze mid-way through putting away your art book. Her serious tone and the look in her eyes... something about the look in her eyes sent a chill down your spine. "I - I'll consider it."

The corner of Heidi's mouth twitched. She then straightened herself up and the deadly serious disposition left as quickly as it had appeared, the friendly seductress returning once more. "Well, I suppose all I can do is steer you away," she chuckled, more to herself.

You smiled politely back, your eyes flickering to your surroundings briefly. As you took in how the sky had gone much darker than it was before, you gasped. "Oh damn, it looks like its going to rain!"

Sure enough, as soon as the word "rain" left your lips, Heidi felt a droplet from the sky land on her cheek.

"I had better get going, it was really nice meeting you!" You began saying your farewells to the beautiful lady, pulling your backpack hastily up onto your back. You didn't want to get potentially drenched in the downpour.

"Wait!"

Ice gripped your wrist abruptly, sending a shock up your arm and making a surprised gasp escape your lips. The fuck?

Oh.

Heidi had grabbed your wrist. She must have some bad circulation, you vaguely thought to yourself.

"I never got your name." The word were desperate, to Heidi pitiful even.

"It's Y/N," you breathed, taken back by Heidi's behavior.

She let go of your wrist, a half smile appearing. "Y/N," she repeated, your name leaving her mouth - in your mind anyway - almost reverently. "Beautiful name, cara mia... anyway, we should head our separate ways! The rain is sure to stat pouring any moment now."

You hummed in agreement, internally trying to shake yourself out of the stupor you now found yourself in. God damn, this woman... help. She's pretty. So pretty. I am very gay.

"It was nice meeting you, Heidi. Maybe I'll see you around?" You offered with a hopeful smile, trying to shut out your internal screaming.

As you quickly walked away, Heidi carefully breathed in after holding her breath. The air stung her throat, your scent, your blood, making her moan wantonly.

She only hoped for two things; one, that she would get the pleasure of seeing your exquisite face again, and secondly and most importantly, that you would heed her warning not to come to the Volterra Cathedral tour tomorrow.

[toovirgins]

March, 1964

Summary: John and Paul (but mostly John) find studying their lines for A Hard Day's Night a drag. John finds other (PG?) ways to pass the time.

The air was still inside the cozy dressing room. A faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to the thick atmosphere, but not enough to ring unpleasant. John gazed at the cigarette as it dangled loosely from his fingers, and deciding against taking another drag, put it out in the ashtray beside him. He tugged at the neck of his black sweater—despite the chill of the winter air persisting outside the window, the room was quite warm. Without much thought, John lazily traced a finger along the window sill, feeling chills spread up his arm at the temperature shock.

It really looked more like an upscale office than a dressing room. Sure, there were four distinct mirrors and hairdresser chairs, as well as a rod near the doorway with an array of suits, sweaters, and trousers for the boys to rotate in and out of. But the room itself was decorated quite elegantly. A soft glow from the floor lamp mingled with the diminishing brightness of outside to coat the room in a honey-like aura. Deep red curtains framed the enormous window, grazing the velvety paisley-patterned rug that covered most area of the room. The rest of the floor was a deep hardwood, without the slightest trace of dust—an unfamiliar concept, John mused. This was much nicer than what they were used to. Immediately upon entering, he had thrown himself onto a long, floral-patterned couch by the window. Paul knew he fancied observing nature while they studied.

Paul was seated a few feet away from him, his long legs draped over the armrest as he slouched sideways over the enormous armchair. His body was facing John’s, and he could see his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he studied his script. His lips moved wordlessly, repeating his lines to himself without speaking at all. He reached up mindlessly and tousled his hair, and John watched as the dark locks fell directly back into place. They had been sitting like this for over an hour now, and John was beginning to feel restless. He had turned his gaze to his friend once he figured he could not possibly watch the nothing going on outside the window for a second longer. Going over his script one more time was always an option, but the thought simply did not interest him. Despite being constantly begged not to do so, John figured he could improvise some lines if they fell blank on his mind. He had a quick wit, and knew that some of his lines would come off better (read: more authentic) than the portrait that the writers had painted of him. He didn’t know how Paul could concentrate for so long, especially seeing as the man had relatively few lines in the upcoming scene.

Almost as if hearing his name appear in John’s thoughts, Paul’s eyes jumped up to meet John’s. He swung his legs over the arm of the chair until he was sitting in an upright (albeit, poorly postured) position and set his script down on the quaint table between them. John pulled the ashtray a bit closer to himself, fearing the disaster that would ensue if he and Paul accidentally burned down the dressing room. They had had their fair share of slightly arsonist run-ins in their youth, and John was too tired to deal with the legal ramifications of an incident like that again.

Paul sighed loudly, bringing John back to present. He hoped this was a sign of his friend’s boredom and restlessness, so he could stop pretending like he was studying his own script. The younger man leaned forward and put his head in his hands, letting out a strained groan as he rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t think I can take any more of this studying, mate,” Paul muttered. “I close my eyes and all I see is ‘No, actually, we’re just good friends’. Why do I have to say that, like, a dozen times? It’s only hardly clever.”

“Quite the realistic portrait, then,” John replied lazily, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips when Paul shot him an irritated glance. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”

Paul checked his wristwatch. “When do you think they’ll be back? I thought Ringo was just going to wander about the town. How long could that filming possibly take? It’s not even scripted. Plus, he’s got that massive hangover. I figured they’d be back around by now.”

John shrugged. George had gone along with Ringo to provide some moral support for the dreaded scene (every scene was dreaded for Ringo today, as Paul was right—he was sporting a massive hangover), leaving Paul and John behind to study for their next appearance. For Paul, it was out of necessity; the poor lad struggled with keeping up with his lines, a fact that made him irritated and anxious. Paul typically wasn’t poor at things. For John, the desertion was more punishment for disappearing on set the day before to explore the city a bit. He didn’t mind, though. It could be worse; Paul could have left him as well. At least he had some company.

“We could go to the pub we passed yesterday,” John observed. “I could use a quick drink. Or two.”

Paul frowned, but John could see him shake his head in slight amusement at his friend’s remarks. “No, we won’t be doing that. Could you imagine how much trouble you’d be in with Brian if you disappeared again? To drink, no less? Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in your daft mind.”

John chuckled at that. He quite enjoyed teasing his friend, pushing forth this Teddy-boy persona that he sported when they first met seven years prior. Though he had no intention of actually going to get drunk in the middle of a work day, he knew that the boy wouldn’t tell the difference. He was aware that his behavior gave Paul a bit of a superiority complex, the feeling of being “the good one”, and the thought of that amused him. The public had yet to see how mischievous Paul McCartney actually was, his puppy dog eyes betraying him at every turn.

Of course, John was one of the few people that saw past Paul’s angelic front. The times they’d shared together had proved that even Brian and George Martin were fooled, as John often fell victim to blame for things that Paul had done. He didn’t quite mind the dynamic, though. He was hardly in real trouble, and it felt nice to have a part of Paul that the others didn’t. He was so hard to read at first, so hard to get close to. The intimacy was welcome to John, in a comforting, familial way.

“What shall we do then?” John mused. He huffed as he struggled to pull himself into an upright position, his joints popping at the sudden movement after being a puddle of nothing for so long. “Go for a smoke? Go for a stroll? Go fetch a bird?” He winked at the last suggestion as heat rose into Paul’s cheeks. Last night, John had also unintentionally taken the blame for a girl that Paul had snuck into the dressing room. Paul had been mortified and profusely thanked him, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little fun with the knowledge.

“Actually,” Paul replied, rubbing his temples, “I’m quite exhausted. Might have a go at a nap.”

“Paul,” John whined, feigned desperation in his voice, “You can’t. I’m so bored. If you leave, I’ll have nothing.”

“Oh, all right,” the boy sighed. “Then you think of something to do. My mind is strained. And,” he jumped, as John opened his mouth to say something, “we’re not going out. I feel like I’m responsible for you right now. Don’t make me put you in time out.” Paul slouched back as the chair engulfed his figure and closed his eyes, humming softly to himself as he let fatigue overtake him.

John’s stomach flipped Paul’s words, though he almost cocked an eyebrow at the absurdity of the feeling. He quickly shook it off, feeling sure it was nothing more than the delight of knowing he could pester Paul endlessly, now that he was aware how Paul felt of the situation. If he was John’s babysitter, then John would act… well, like a child.

John stretched his legs just far enough as to where he could kick the other man’s foot. Paul half-lidded eyes looked up at him with a slightly annoyed expression, but he was met only with the amusement that twinkled in John’s. This seemed to irritate him further, not feeling at all in the mood for physical banter. So John kicked him again.

Paul’s eyes flew open. “Christ, lad, would you knock it off? I’m not in the mood. If you won’t let me leave, at least let me rest here.”

“But I’m bored,” John whined again. “I want to do something.”

“Look over your script,” Paul muttered as he turned his back on him, shifting to curl up into the armchair. “I don’t want to have to deal with you going on about fish and finger pies again next take. I have enough to worry about with my own lines.”

“You don’t own me, Paul,” John shot back. “You’re not in charge.”

“I bloody might as well be,” came the muffled voice that now felt far away.

John fell back on the couch himself, defeated. He gazed out the window again, eyes following an adorable little bird that hopped from tree limb to tree limb. He felt for that bird, or rather, he felt the need to be that bird, happily hopping on without a care in the world. It was so simple and innocent. He wanted to reach his hand through the glass and stroke the little bird, with its enchantingly dark feathers. To John, it looked like midnight, when the sky was still and the world was quiet and there was nothing but yourself and the atmosphere, high above you. Was it a blackbird? A crow, maybe? Its tiny black eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, but not threatening or eerie. Just… there. Being. Existing. It lived only to live, not to please, or love, or conquer. Oh, to be the little bird.

John continued to marvel at it for a few more moments before it fluttered out of sight. He was left with nothing again, his mind grasping at something else to attend to. The script fell out of his hands onto the floor with a thick thud, making Paul twitch in his barely-there state of consciousness.

Paul! A wonderful thing to capture his attention. John nudged his foot against the chair, hoping to shift it just slightly. When that didn’t work, he pushed a bit harder, sending a croaking sound through the room as the chair leg slipped off the rug and onto the hardwood.

“Piss off, Lennon,” Paul growled, his voice thick with the beginnings of sleep. But John couldn’t let him drift asleep. He would be so dreadfully bored.

John got to his knees on the couch, facing Paul’s chair. He gently pushed the stand with the ashtray and Paul’s script out of the way, and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on the arm of the couch and resting his chin atop them. He could see Paul’s side rising and falling rhythmically, the stiff fabric of his dress shirt crinkling with every inhale. He hadn’t changed out from earlier, and was still wearing the pressed white button down, black tie, and black trousers. The only thing he had removed was his suit jacket, which lay draped across the back of the chair. John assumed Paul had noticed the warm thickness of the air in the room as well.

Paul’s side stared back at him, open and inviting. He knew exactly what to do, to piss Paul off to the perfect degree while also keeping up the good spirits. He removed a hand from under his chin and stretched ever so slightly before jamming two fingers—hard—into Paul’s soft side.

Paul yelped in surprise and jerked awake and alert, trying to comprehend what had just happened. John watched him smugly as his brow furrowed in confusion, then annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, John, is it so hard to keep your hands to yourself? You’re a child.”

John said nothing, just watched in anticipation as Paul turned away again, muttering something under his breath. He was cranky now, and John wanted to push his limits. He had nothing better to do, anyway. He tentatively reached back over and, in one swift movement, pinched Paul’s side again and retreated into the far side of the couch.

Paul swung blindly, nearly missing contact with John’s extended forearm as he jumped back. John suppressed a giddy grin, knowing that he had succeeded in his mission. Paul was now wide awake and visibly frustrated, taking a moment to rub his tender side while muttering a string of unflattering curses.

“You wanker,” he shot at John, his eyes burning as he massaged his sore spot. Paul knew that John knew that’s where his weak spot was, his ticklish spot. He was only lucky that John had poked and pinched instead of lightly grazing and prodding. They shared a look, both of them well aware of that fact. John couldn’t help but cock a knowing eyebrow at him, as if to say, I could if I wanted to.

Suddenly, Paul’s eyes darkened. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a mischievous glint overtake Paul’s gaze. He watched Paul’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, running his tongue between his lips in anticipation. John wasn’t sure what the transformation was, but it couldn’t be good. He felt in a moment that he had lost control of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, willing himself to come up with something spectacularly witty, until—

Paul had lurched on top of him in a matter of seconds, digging his fingers into John’s sides. John initially gasped as ticklish tremors ran through his body, the sounds of pure, unfiltered laughter soon filling the air. John twisted under Paul’s iron grip as tears began to spring to his eyes from the hysteria, gasping for breath and unable to keep himself from breaking into a fit of giggles every few seconds. He weakly attempted to reach up and grasp at Paul’s weak spots, trying to give himself the edge again, but Paul caught his wrist with one hand, pinning the other down with his knee. “Uh uh uh,” he chastised, pushing John’s wrist into the couch and underneath his other knee. He was straddling him on the couch, his knees trapping John’s hands at his sides while Paul’s hands were free to mercilessly attack John’s sides, stomach, and neck.

“P-please,” he wheezed, as Paul chuckled lightheartedly above him. “Please stop, I- I can’t breathe—”

“You asked for this,” Paul retorted, not ceasing the torturous movements. His tone was light and amused, sounding as though he found himself greatly enamored with the visual of John writhing helplessly beneath him. “Next time, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

“I will, I will,” John gasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. Slowly, Paul ceased his assault, and rocked back on his heels, letting John’s hands free. He watched as the man caught his breath beneath him, reaching up to wipe away a tear that had fallen in the hysteria. “That was not funny,” John asserted in a mock-serious tone, secretly hoping that Paul would go at it again.

The thought pulled a frown to his face as he contemplated what had just popped into his head. He was “secretly hoping Paul would do that again”? Why? Why did he feel the need to keep it a secret? Why had Paul’s devilish fingers made John’s skin feel so… electric, and tingly? And most importantly, why was he now acutely aware that the man was sitting on John’s lap?

Paul let out an airy laugh and raised himself up off the sofa. John breathed a sigh of relief, concerned over the thoughts that spilled into his head. What the fuck was going on? This was Paul. He enjoyed spending time with him, teasing him, messing with him, pissing him off and making him laugh. Paul, his bandmate. His best friend. His suddenly strangely entrancing best—

Shut up, John begged his mind. He didn’t want to follow himself down a rabbit hole of that sort.

Paul was making his way back to the armchair. He plopped into it, looking as though he was the one who had just been tickled to death. He looked at John with a grin of satisfaction and power, and John knew that the man was about to go for a nap again knowing that John wouldn’t mess with him in that way again.

He liked to prove Paul wrong.

As soon as Paul’s eyes fluttered closed once more, and his breathing became steadier and deeper, John formulated another plan. One that, this time, he would surely be in control of. He watched Paul’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, waiting for his eyelashes to stop twitching, willing the man to fall just enough asleep to where he would be slightly delirious upon a quick awakening. That way, he couldn’t catch John with surprise force as he executed the first step of his plan.

John waited the tiniest bit longer, until he was sure that his friend wasn’t just pretending, and went for it. In a quick movement, John jumped up and pulled at Paul’s wrists, thrusting him onto the floor forcefully but not painfully. The man blinked wildly as John held both his wrists over his head with one hand and began to aggressively tickle Paul’s exposed armpits. He jerked away from John’s touch, still in a faint haze about what was happening, before he began to come to his senses and bite back a cry of laughter. John knew that Paul was far more ticklish than he, and that the quick prodding and nudging wouldn’t drive him nearly as crazy as light, barely-there touches.

He began to cry out on the floor beside John, who was lying on his side, holding Paul’s hands with one arm and attacking him with the other. “Jesus, John, you bastard,” he wheezed, trying to force himself up but unable to do so. His wrists strained against John’s grip.

This struggle continued for a few more minutes, before John’s own stomach hurt from laughing so much. He released his friend and collapsed on the rug beside him, both of their laughter dying out softly as they caught their breath. A silence of about five minutes ensued, neither speaking but both acknowledging the comforting warmth of their shoulders pressed against one other.

After a long recovery, Paul tentatively lifted a leg and crossed it over, placing it in between John’s. Shooting his friend an inquisitive glance—not that this intertwining or personal touch was a strange posture for them, as they had had countless sleepovers in John’s far-too-tiny bed in his Mimi’s home growing up—John nudged Paul’s foot with his own to encourage him to speak what was on his mind.

“Thank you,” Paul said, the tint of laughter still coloring his voice.

“For what?” John replied noncommittedly. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, which was a rather putrid tile, almost like the ceilings in grade school—something that was jarring against the rather royal layout of the rest of the room. He trained his gaze on a particular patch of water damage shaped a bit like the bird he had watched earlier, through the window.

“I know you could have done worse in that little fight,” Paul mused. “I think I would have peed me self. Or died. Whichever came first.”

John hummed in response, now aware that the little leg movement was almost a thank you in and of itself. That simple search for physical contact, a gesture of appreciation, made John’s heart swell. He liked feeling appreciated. It was almost as if John was a girl, and Paul had reached down to interlace their fingers together and offer a quick squeeze, but John wasn’t a girl and instead Paul had thoughtlessly interlaced their legs. It was a nice feeling, one that spread warmth across John’s chest. As much as he wore Paul down, he was so thankful for him. It was a genuine admiration and appreciation (that he hoped was mutual), an experience that was rather foreign to him throughout life so far. He supposed much of that was brought on by himself—if he hadn’t been such a naughty child in school, if he’d been a bit better behaved for his parents, if he hadn’t been such a dick to the girlfriends he’d had. But with Paul, things were different. There were no expectations of being a son, a pupil, a lover. They could just be. Just like the bird.

John smiled to himself at the thought.

[lightsupinthenorth]

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3 

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume​, @marianaosborne​, @liglitterbug​, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington​

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess). 

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^). 

I’ll stop rambling now.

*

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.  

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”  

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.  

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

-

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

[homosociallyyours]

Nosy meme: 2, 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, 22, 29, 33, 47, 50. 💜

OMG thank you Brynn!! So many questions to answer :) I’m putting it under a cut bc I know it’s gonna get long...AND YES IT DID. 

2) What are you obsessed with right now? Below Deck, this ridiculous Bravo show that follows a charter yacht through an 8 week season of trips. It’s dramatic and full of wealthy people like most Bravo shows, BUT it’s also following the people who staff the boat, not the guests, so it’s more relatable than Real Housewives. I just wrote a one shot ficlet about 2 of the women on one of the more recent seasons yesterday. Ridiculous. 

6) Describe your dream home. I feel like I always have a slightly different answer for this. Right now: my ideal home would be pretty small, maybe 700-800 sq ft, with a single bedroom, painted a vibrant pink and accented with green and white (think climbing vines with tiny, bright white blooms) and a small alcove done in a pale blue that housed a murphy bed for guests. The kitchen would be ultra organized to optimize space (I would NOT be the one to do this) and would be equipped with an air fryer, slow cooker, instant pot, and microwave in addition to standard brand new appliances. There’s a fold down table that can seat up to 4 in the kitchen, though it’s usually just set up for me. The bathroom has a shower done with celadon green tile with a bench seat built in and glass doors. The living room is small and simple, but there’s a big comfortable grey couch and a tv. The whole house has hardwood floors, and the windows each have a bit of stained glass in them up top so the light is sometimes colored as it filters in. There’s a covered carport with a doggie bath area and a chest freezer, and in the fenced back yard there’s a hot tub and comfortable lounging furniture among all the greenery. The house doesn’t have a lawn tho, fuck that. You can’t hear sounds from the street-- it’s a quiet house. I live alone unless i want a visitor. It sounds so nice.  

12) What’s one of your fantasies? Having my dream home as above, lol. But really my most typical fantasy is being able to afford a weekend away at a fancy airbnb by the ocean that allows dogs. It turns out the owner is fat butch dyke who loves dogs and we end up playing scrabble together sitting at a picnic table outside. She offers to cook me dinner; I put together a cheese plate while she grills steaks and broccoli, and we basically fall in love, turning my silly 2 day vacation into a lifetime of slow, sweet, happy love. ://////////

13) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I would, maybe? But also idk bc they’re extremely sensitive already and I don’t want them to lose sensation BUT i also don’t want them to be more sensitive bc that could cause legit problems. 

19) If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to? Nah, I like my name. Though if I were going to change it I think I would just go by a variation of my first name-- Dottie. 

20) What is something you’re obsessed with? Other than Below Deck? Yorkshire Gold tea. I bought it bc Louis Tomlinson drinks it and my whole life changed for the better. It’s SO FUCKING GOOD, ok? It rarely tastes bitter, even when you accidentally oversteep it, and the flavor and aroma are surprisingly complex for a simple black tea. I have been into teas since I was a teenager, and while I could never entirely give up some of my single origin black teas, Yorkshire Gold is my current (forever?) go to for a daily cuppa. 

22) Tag someone you think is hot. HELP I don’t experience attraction this way anymore :p Literally idk who to tag?? WAIT @mxaether!!! Kams is super hot in all the ways, I adore them so much. 

29) What’s the most overrated movie? In general anything directed or written by a white man who’s made lots of movies. I really try not to watch slogs like that anymore, but the last movie I watched that genuinely made me want to yell was The Dark Knight. Do I remember the plot? NO bc my ass was BORED BORED BORED and when I kinda thought it was about to be over NOPE! there was another hour of the movie left. Fuck that garbage. I haven’t seen it but I’m pretty sure I’d feel the same about that Snyder cut of Justice League. I read a long synopsis/breakdown of the movie (from someone who loved it!!!) and spent the whole time frowning with disgust bc it sounded like The Worst Thing I Could Ever Sit Through. 

33) If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? For the most part, not that different? I would have an endless supply of incredibly soft, comfy leggings with bright, eye-catching colors and patterns along with stretchy, form fitting dresses that were equally loud. Soft, loafer style slippers in a variety of colors. All my under things would be high end and custom made (also colorful! no white underpants! ever!) I would also have access to ultra fancy party clothes: stretchy, body con jumpsuits with plenty of sparkle (picture: a coppery jumpsuit that fits tight through the hips and ends with a high waist, the top slit in a deep V but draping softly with a bit of volume. The back has a light, diaphanous, cape of sorts), twirly dresses, etc. Everything is INCREDIBLY comfortable and easy to move in, but glam and fun and whimsically sexy?  

47) If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick? None celebrity, left beef. :P Truthfully tho it’s Alex Guarnaschelli...she cooks for me, I serve her in any and every way she wants or needs. Would also say Lizzo but I worry that her partying days are still here and I know I wouldn’t be able to keep up. 

50) What’s your favorite kind of weather? Sunny but breezy, almost cool in the shade, for midday. In the evening the temperature drops enough that you’re grateful for a sweater but not so much that you’re ever actually chilled, and around 2am there’s a light but steady rain for an hour or two that’s barely noticeable by noon the next day. 

If anyone read all of these and for some reason wants to send me more, the asks are here

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Cozy knits, cardamom donuts, and turtledove butterflies

There's something so warm and inviting about hand knitted stuff. Maybe I'm biased because I'm a knitter, but there's really something special about knitting things. With needles and yarn, the possibilities are endless!

This gyroid event is a cozy knitwear theme, a collaboration between Daisy Jane, Tiffani, and Rowan. Collecting gyroids around the camp has been putting me in the mood to knit again, specifically a big project.

It's been years since I've made a sweater but I really feel like making one. Sweaters tend to be a hit or miss with me, which is why I rarely make them. Measurements aren't my strong suit but they're a big deal if you're making clothes. Constant counting as well because you have to make sure you have the exact amount of stitches or else everything's off. Also, it takes commitment to make a sweater, even a simple one, so that's another reason why I stick to simple projects like scarves.

I'm in the process of looking up simple sweater patterns so let's see how long this spark of motivation lasts. Making a sweater can be frustrating and time consuming, but it really is rewarding when it's finally finished.

Tiffani and Rowan are here with us at the camp to join in on the event as well as take a well deserved vacation. I feel like it's been forever since I've seen either one - Tiffani had dropped by the camp a couple years ago while Rowan's been out and about traveling the world. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that they've been working on gyroid designs with Daisy Jane.

I'm glad to see many entourage members thriving, especially after things went downhill with the university. Tiffani started her own fashion line called Stellar where everything's ethically made and a good portion of the proceeds go to charities that help abuse victims. Being a survivor of child abuse, Tiffani puts a lot of time and effort to use her influence to spread awareness and resources to help those who need it.

Rowan, a figure skater, is the co-founder of Stellar. He too grew up in an abusive household and is also an activist for abuse victims as well as the trans community. He's got an interesting story, one of victory as he and a couple friends were responsible for taking down a corrupt fashion design label.

In fact, he's working on a memoir tentatively titled "How I Destroyed Traynor's By Being Super Fake". The title alone sounds like an interesting read. People have approached him for years about writing a book, something he was considering as he had a lot to say about his father and stepmother. By now enough time has passed that his ex-family are beyond caring so he can freely talk about them without dealing with their associates threatening him.

Rowan always had a complicated relationship with his father. His mother died of cancer when he was ten and he never forgave his father for not letting him say goodbye to her. Not too long after that Wilfred married his mistress Caitlin and Rowan gained two step-siblings, Portia and Chad. Wilfred and Caitlin created Traynor's Fashion, an elite luxury label that developed quite a reputation.

Growing up in that household was torture for Rowan, so he left as soon as he could. He found solace in ice skating, an activity he and his mom bonded over. Rowan practiced for hours while his so-called family mocked him and eventually his efforts led to him getting a scholarship with a shot at a career in competitive figure skating.

Unfortunate circumstances and burnout forced Rowan to go back home, where he was known as the loser who couldn't kick it in the real world. Determined to get out, Rowan tried to work his way up in Traynor's, only to remember that hard work at a place like that won't get him anywhere, especially for someone like him. Rowan considered fashion design as a backup if figure skating didn't work out, but Traynor's was the absolute last place he wanted to start over. He only stayed for a few months before getting kicked out because of Portia and Chad.

Rowan would’ve been broke and homeless if it weren’t for aspiring fashion designers Victor, Ella, and Michele. The three were screwed over by Traynor’s and were trying to put together evidence to bring the company down. Victor used to work there before getting thrown under the bus in order for the company to save face. If it wasn't for that alone, Victor would've quit anyway because of the toxic environment and questionable ethics. Michele, another fashion designer, had her career end before it even started when Portia and Chad stole her work and accused her of plagiarism. Ella was the founder of Fairytale Castle, a small fashion company that ended up shutting down because friends of Wilfred and Caitlin were sent to harass her and sabotage her designs.

With Rowan on their side, exposing Traynor’s corruption became a reality. By disguising himself as a snooty fashion designer named Creighton Adcock, Rowan was able to infiltrate the studio. He wore a ridiculous getup and sported an exaggerated English accent - the more fake he came across, the more believable he was. It was pure torture, having to pander to his so-called family but it was so totally worth it.

The big expose took place on an important night for Traynor's and overnight the company fell. Spite and revenge had never been sweeter. Most of the employees as well as Rowan's ex-family were stacked with numerous charges like harassment, assault, embezzling, tax evasion, unethical practices, etc - they got what they deserved. Of course, there was backlash but once that died down, Rowan and the others were ready to move on.

Rowan went back to ice skating, though more for performance than competition - which was the reason why he almost quit in the first place. While posing as Creighton, Rowan had to sit through some shit, so to unwind, he would go out to the ice rink. Being on the ice made him realize how much he missed skating, though not the competition part. Rowan always says he's more of a performer than a competitor - the latter being the reason why he almost gave up because it took away the fun for him.

As for fashion, he does some design on the side like Tiffani. Then the two got together and launched Stellar earlier this year. He considers his relationship with fashion design as a sort of love-hate thing. For obvious reasons Rowan grew to resent it, especially when his father tried to force him into the business. He didn't hate it entirely, but when it's associated with people who failed to give you a good upbringing, it's hard to separate the two. Though since meeting Jamie and going back to skating, Rowan's slowly stepping back into the fashion design world after being on the fence about it for so long.

Joining forces with Tiffani and starting Stellar was unexpected. The partnership just came together and before they knew it, they were coming up with a bunch of ideas together. I honestly was surprised to hear from Jamie that Rowan was working on fashion designs. Then Stellar launched not too long after and it's actually been kinda therapeutic for Rowan and Tiffani.

I'm glad that both of them are out there living their best lives, far, far away from their abusers - most of whom are in jail, thankfully. They got lucky and after what they've been through, they want to do whatever they can to help other abuse victims. They're the kind of people who keep their word and they actively work to make the world a better place. No performative bullshit here.

Tiffani and Rowan have been here for a couple days now, enjoying the camp and all its lovely scenery. We've been collecting knit gyroids around the camp and checking in with OK Motors. Rowan had some car trouble so it was lucky that it managed to survive the long trip from Peace Coast to here. Since his car's pretty old, the repairs will take a while, which he doesn't mind. Beppe's also throwing in a free paint job so the car will be like new once it's finished.

Yesterday we went to the mountain trail, where not only we found gyroids, but also turtledove butterflies. They only show up around this time and after three years, I finally got to see them! I hardly venture around these parts because it's kinda out of the way but now I'm slowly expanding my horizons.

Turtledove butterflies are such majestic creatures. From the way they flutter about, their soft blue and white patterned wings contrasting nicely with the mountain view - like straight out of a lovely painting!

There's so much around the camp that I have yet to explore, I hope one day I'll know these places like the back of my hand.

Along the way and back we collected gyroids. Crafting gyroid furniture is always fun, seeing what kind of stuff we can make from them. I love the cozy knitwear aesthetic so much, it's easily one of my favorite themes! Tiffani, Rowan, and Daisy Jane did an amazing job with the designs. Given how much fun they had with the planning, there's likely going to be a second collaboration in the future, which I'm definitely looking forward to.

In between collecting gyroids and camp activities, we also got into knitting. That's why I've been in a knitting mood again. Rowan just learned how to knit last year and it's his new favorite hobby. He made a pair of leg warmers that look super snazzy, Tiffani's working on a cute beanie, Daisy Jane got started on a pretty lace scarf, and I just finished with a beaded headband.

Now I'm looking for sweater patterns and I already have some saved. Since I'm rusty with clothes, I'm sticking to something simple. The seed stitch ones are catching my eye as it's a simple pattern that looks nice, especially in pastel since that's what I've been into lately. Hopefully by tomorrow I have settled on a pattern so I can get started while I'm in the mood.

Today was a chill day where we stayed at the main camp. In between crafting, collecting, and camping, we baked donuts. I was kinda intimidated by donuts because it involves using the deep fryer but the whole process itself isn't too complicated. Making the dough was easy, using the deep fryer took some getting used to.

We made a bunch of different kinds - cardamom cream, apple cider, vanilla spice, and pumpkin pecan. The cardamom and vanilla ones are from Emilia Eats, the apple cider from Rustic Kitchen, and pumpkin pecan from Calico Bakery. They're all great, though if I had to choose, my favorite would be the cardamom cream. Pumpkin pecan comes a close second.

Since the donuts were a hit, we're thinking of baking cookies next. Tiffani wants to try out a black sesame recipe, Daisy Jane bookmarked a maple hazelnut recipe, Rowan has his eye on chocolate chip cheesecake cookies, and I always wanted to try earl grey shortbread.

Right now, we're enjoying donuts while knitting and crafting gyroids. Rowan's really becoming a pro at knitting as he wants to take on cables next. I kinda have a love-hate relationship with cables - they look good but take a bit of effort. I'll admit I haven't quite mastered them yet as I can't do a simple cable without having to refer to a pattern as a reference.

Warm, cozy knitwear and fresh baked goods - it doesn't get any better than that!

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Sixty-One: Raindrops ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Another early Winter day...another bout of rain.

Waking slowly, Hinata peers out from her bed, blankets brought up to her nose. Unlike the chill outside, her room is nice and cozy, the temptation to linger in bed a while longer strong indeed. But eventually she stirs, slipping out from the sheets and making to dress. Tank and shorts are exchanged for a wooly sweater dress. Combined with tights and boots, she’s ready for her day.

The space upstairs isn’t the biggest - much like a studio apartment. The kitchen is tiny, combined with a place to sit and eat. A couch and a desk in a corner serve for as much of a living room as she can manage. Everything is a theme of white and lilac, little space left over beyond the necessities. But given that the shop takes up the entirety of the downstairs, there’s only so much space here to work with.

Not that she minds. Hinata’s always been a bit of a...compact person. While not against open spaces, she just...doesn’t have a use for them. Each square foot has a purpose here, and there’s less room for clutter or a need to be cleaned.

A win in her book.

Breakfast is a simple affair: eggs boiled yesterday are peeled and sliced on top of toast with a little salt and pepper, black tea with a small dollop of honey helping to wash it down as she checks her phone. The news, as is typical, offers only dreary, depressing topics. Her Facebook is full of people presenting only their best sides. Hardly realistic, and inspiring more insecurity than happiness.

But she’s never really been the sort to linger on such things. The social media she has is mostly just to keep in touch with people. The connection and yet distance is just perfect for her. She chats with friends from high school when it’s convenient, but doesn’t have to sit through several hours of in-person interaction that just drains her more than it satisfies her.

Once she’s at least part way caught up with the ways of the world, Hinata tidies up after herself before heading downstairs, unlocking the door at the bottom of the stairwell that leads to the back of the shop.

As always, the smell of flowers hits her like a very pleasant ton of bricks, and a smile blooms over her face. Everything is just as she left it the night before. Shelves of supplies are fully stocked, her arrangements of plants near the windows to entice passersby to come in and take a closer look. The floor was swept before bed, and the lights come on to bathe the room in a pleasant ivory hue.

While some people drudge on in their day to day lives, Hinata counts herself very lucky to have a job she loves every day.

Having twenty minutes before it’s time to open, she does one last sweep of her inventory, making sure nothing is empty or misplaced. The coolers holding cut and pre-arranged flowers hum in the quiet, and Hinata uses the last bit of time to water the plants in the windows. Raindrops slither down the panes, warping her view to the outside like a watercolor painting. The tones beyond are mostly dreary, greyed out by the overcast weather.

But Hinata loves the rain. And Winter as a whole, even if it means most plants are dead or sleeping. In here, and in the attached greenhouse, she gets to be surrounded by them all year round. And help others enjoy them, too!

Just as she finishes, the clock strikes nine, and she flips the sign in the door to, “Open”.

Of course, she doesn’t expect many walk-ins. This time of year, most of her patronage comes online, or on the phone: people ordering bouquets, for the most part. As much as she loves arranging flowers, it does make her sad not to see more potted plants sold. After all, cut flowers only last so long. Pretty and eye-catching...but so quick to wither. A bit of a waste, really.

But not everyone can handle a full-time plant, of course. And she’d rather someone unable use cut flowers than let a live plant fade.

Checking her website in the meantime, Hinata finds a handful of new orders, moving them to her tablet as she gets to work creating the arrangements. Most probably won’t come to pick them up until tomorrow, as per her warning to wait at least twenty-four hours. But she might as well get them done now, just in case something else comes up to -

Jingle!

Coming up a bit short as the bell over the door rings, Hinata blinks wide eyes in surprise. A customer! Given the rain, she’d assumed few would bother to come in!

A man stands by the door, shaking off his umbrella just outside before closing it and stepping fully inside. He gives the shop a curious once over before spying her by the counter.

“Hello,” she greets, giving a smile. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Uh...looking for a plant…”

As always, Hinata withhold a small snort at the comment. Given he’s come to a flower shop, that much is...typically obvious. “Of course! Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Not really? I...don’t know much about them, in all honesty,” he replies, a hand at his neck.

“May I ask what the occasion is…?”

“Just a bit of a pick-me-up for my mom. She’s got those Winter blues, y’know? And she always has a garden in the Summer, so...I thought maybe having something in the house would give her something to do.”

At that, Hinata perks up. “I see! Does she, um...have any favorites?”

“I really don’t know,” he offers, giving a small huff of sheepish laughter. “I barely know what any flowers are regardless.”

“I see...well, what about a favorite color?”

“Well, most of her flowers tend to be bright. Yellow, orange, red...mostly red, I think.”

“Hm…” Hinata moves to the front, looking over her collection. “Amaryllis is usually a good choice. They’re v-very easy to care for, and have very pretty red blooms,” she begins, gesturing to one she has in a dark green pot. “And she can move it outside in the Summer! Every year it will get a little bigger as the bulb grows.”

“...bulb?”

Hinata hesitates for a moment. “...um...sort of like an onion…? It’s a s-structure for the plant underground, and the plant grows up from it. It allows a plant to be a perennial, meaning...it will come back multiple years, rather than just one, like an annual.”

“Oh...well, I guess that will work.”

...she hasn’t shown him anything else, but it seems he’s not picky in the slightest. “All right! Do you like the pot it’s in? I can change it out if not.”

“That should work.”

“Perfect.” Taking the plant from the display, Hinata sets it on the counter and starts ringing up the exchange. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to have some color in all this dreary weather, huh?”

“Yeah, that was my thinking. Mom’s always been the sort to really dim down during the Winter. She likes the snow when it’s still fresh and pretty, but when it’s just rainy and foggy, it sort of wears on her.”

“Understandable,” Hinata agrees.

“Hey, uh...how long has this shop been here, by the way?”

“Well...let me think…” Hinata pauses, counting the times. “...at least about twenty years?”

“Whoa, seriously?”

“Mhm.” Scanning the barcode, Hinata fiddles with the register. “It was my m-mother’s. She divorced my father when I was very young, and came here. The shop owner employed her, and we lived upstairs. Eventually she managed to buy it. She passed away a few years ago, and...it’s been mine since.”

He suddenly feels rather awkward, shifting his stance a bit at the somber subject. “...I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you…”

“I just, y’know...thought you looked kinda young. I looked online first and saw you run the place.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Huh, me too. Did you go to school here…?”

“I was homeschooled.”

His brows lift. “Wow...so your mom worked and taught you? She must’ve been one hell of a woman.”

That earns a warm but somber smile. “...she was. Her name was Hanako.”

“Guess that explains why I don’t recognize you. What was your name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“...oh! It’s Hinata. Hinata Hyūga.”

“I’m Sasuke Uchiha. Nice t’meet you.”

“You too.” Smiling a bit more genuinely, she gives him his total, accepting cash and giving him the proper change. “I h-hope your mother enjoys her flowers!”

“Maybe I’ll come back and let you know how it goes. And uh...see if I need anything else. Uh...do I need anything else?”

“Not for now, no. I keep everyone properly watered and fertilized, but she’ll likely need some plant food and fertilizer once it runs out. And once it gets too b-big for the pot, it’ll need a bigger one. But she should be all set for now!”

“Ah, thanks.” Cradling the pot in one arm, he prepares to open his umbrella with the other. “Have a nice day.”

“You too!” Skirting around the counter, she holds the door open for him, waving as he makes his way down the sidewalk. Huh...he walked…? In this weather?

...what a strange man.

Curious, she pulls her phone from her pocket, doing a little digging through a few friends’ Facebooks. Within a minute, she finds him: a mutual friend of several of her own. Huh...funny how they’ve never crossed paths until now. Of course, her being homeschooled is likely to blame. She knows a few girls her age through her mother’s friendships with their mothers, but otherwise she’s rather...reclusive.

Curiosity piqued, it takes her a moment to remember she was indeed working on something - or, starting to - when he arrived.

Best get back to work.

                                                        .oOo.

     Random modern flower shop AU cuz...I felt like something a lil fluffy lol - also this idea for the family dynamic wouldn't leave me alone. In other words, Hanako leaves Hiashi before having Hanabi, so she doesn't pass from birth complications. She DOES still die a bit young, but gets to properly raise her daughter on her OWN terms.      Might be something neat to explore in a canon setting at some point, too.      Anywho! Sorry for missing last night, I just...had a day that kept piling things on, so I took the evening off to spend some time with my brother. It was a much needed break~ But! I'll be back in a jiffy to post another so I don't fall any further behind! As always, thanks for reading~

[minty-fresh-21]

Boy in the Dog Park (Ch.2)

Summary:  “Hello listeners! The local police station asked me to remind all of you out of the roads tonight that, here in Gainesville, we believe in a speed limit of 19 miles an hour. If you go 20, well, you’re going to jail.”

Gainesville is a strange town. Virgil should fit right in.

Now if only Virgil could figure that out. Luckily, he’s got three friends, and maybe eventually something more, to help him along.

Warnings: Non human characters, Past violence, non descriptive violence

Chapter Title: The Second Meeting

Chapter Summary: In which having a nice conversation does not go as well as the pariceipencts would have liked, and Patton ships Viremy

Words: 3227

Need to Catch Up? Previous/Next  Also posted on AO3 

They were back at the park again. This time there was a chill in the air, and all three of them were wearing their Midwinter Festival sweaters. Logan had protested that ‘it wasn't even All Hallows Eve yet.’ Patton just laughed at him while Roman forced the sweater over his head.

None of them mentioned it, but all three of them had an apprehensive air about them. It had been a week since they had met Virgil. Though, Logan thought privately, meeting was a rather strong word for someone running away from you when you tried to introduce yourself.

That Forest had moved away and was now encircling the local library. (All the Librarians were trapped, and there hadn't been any contact with them for three days. They were probably fine. On the other hand, Logan hoped it moved soon, because if it didn't he would be racking up huge late fines, with the amount of books he currently had checked out. No one in Gainesville liked late fees. No one. Hiring demons from the underworld as your librarians probably was not the library director’s smartest idea.)

Patton had told them yesterday that he was going to the Park with Blue again tomorrow. He hadn’t asked them to come this time, but they dragged themselves out of bed to tag along with him anyways. (Both Roman and Logan had quietly agreed that Patton’s habit of getting up so early was outrageous.)

Patton was the one who finally brought up the topic they were all thinking about. “Do you think he’ll be here?” Before Logan could reply, a voice interrupted

“Hmmm, Gurl, Probab-!”

Roman reacted as dramatically (as usual) to Remy sneaking up on them, shrieking loudly. “MOTHER-”

“FATHER!” Patton quickly cut him off. “Now you!” he squealed, pointing at Logan.

“BROTHER!”

Remy paused, raising an eyebrow at the three of them. “Y’all are insane.”

Logan chuckled internally, and nodded. You would probably have to be crazy to survive in this town, anyways. “That’s fair.”

“Where did you even come from?” Roman gasped, still recovering from his shock.

“I’m a minor chaos god. I can teleport.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Well anyways Patton, how’s your garden going?”

As Patton happily rambled about how his chrysanthemums were coming along, Logan subtly leaned over to Roman.

“What did he mean? He’s not actually a god, right?”

Roman looked affronted, hissing back at him. “What the hell, Logan? Don’t you know it’s rude to question someone’s mortality status? Why would anyone lie about that?”

Logan blinked, sitting back in his original position, suitably chastised. “Ah, my apologies, we didn't really have, uh, that, where I come from.”

Roman’s face softened, and he nodded, straightening back up as well. Though Patton continued to chat with Remy, Logan and Roman started to scan the edges of the park, attempting to spot Virgil.

All three of them were hoping to see the mysterious Virgil again, for various reasons.  

Roman wanted to see the tiny man again, not just because he was adorable, but mostly. Logan wanted to make sure that Virgil was alright. They had startled him badly last week, and he had panicked a little too much to be normal. Patton wanted to apologize to the man, having worried about him all week.

Roman was the one who spotted Virgil first this time. He grinned triumphantly, poking Logan in the side to draw his attention to the approaching figure edging it’s way along the fence.

While Virgil walked over to Holly, who was still on her leash at Remy’s side, Roman and Logan had a quiet squabble where Roman crowded about how he “Saw him first, suck it, Microsoft Nerd!” and Logan glared and hissed back that  “It wasn’t a competition, Roman.”

When Virgil reached Remy’s dog, he plopped down on to the ground, glancing up at them warily.

Remy broke off his conversation with Patton to grin down at him with an almost predatory smirk.

“You did show up, how nice!”

Virgil flushed, scowling as he glared adorably up at Remy. Patton let out a small “Awwww…” at the expression.

Ignoring Patton's reactions, though they did cause his cheeks to darken, Virgil quipped back at Remy. “Shut up Rem. No one asked for your opinion.” Logan raised an eyebrow at the odd exchange, but decided that they must have met up at some point between when the three had seen them last week and this saturday, and this was a continuation of a conversation he wasn't privy to.

Remy snorted at Virgil’s response, but turned to introduce Virgil to the three of them formally.

“This is Virgil, as you already know. Vee, this is Patton,” Patton gave the man a brilliant grin, which caused him to blush a beautiful shade of violet. Observing this, Logan to wonder whether Virgil’s blood was a similar shade. “Roman,” Roman gave a dramatic bow to the man sill sitting on the ground next to Holly. “And Logan.” Logan gave a soft nod towards him.

“Salutations.”

Virgil gave them a nod, but didn’t say anything, his spitfire attitude from earlier gone.

“So Kiddo,” Patton began. “I know we gave you quit the scare last week…” He trailed off, not knowing how to proceed without making the apology awkward, but knowing that pausing was only making the situation more awkward. He looked at his boyfriends, growing slightly more panicked as the seconds wore on, hoping one of them would save him from himself.

Logan took pity on Patton and picked up where he left off, deciding to just go to short and simple route, and get straight to the point.

“We started you badly last week, and we wish to offer our apologies for it.”

Virgil offer them another smile, this one more shaky and hesitant. He flushed an even deeper shade of violet.

“It’s okay. I overreacted.”

And awkward silence came over them before Patton realized that standing in the dog park with the dogs on leashes was kind of silly. Blue was tugging on his leash, eager to run. Patton unclipped him, releasing him onto the various squirrels throughout the park.

Remy followed suit, unhooking Holly from her leash and watching her try to catch up to the hyperactive puppy. When Blue took a rather sudden turn, changing course to pursue a particularly chunky squirrel, Holly, doing her best to follow him, managed to perform a spectacular backflip as she lost her footing. A laugh was startled out of Virgil, which in turn, startled the three of them. They hadn't talked with Virgil much yet, but he didn't seem like the laughing type. A snicker wouldn't seem out of place coming out of his mouth, but not a laugh. Yet here he was, giggling, at Holly.  

Too cute.

Remy snorted at his dog, then poked at Virgil with his foot. “Go on, go play with the dogs and let the grown ups talk.”

Virgil scowled at him. Then, after a moment of thought, a vicious smirk came over his face that made Logan become wary of what mischief he could be planing. In a few swift movements, Virgil grabbed Remy’s leg from where it was still digging it into Virgil’s side, and gave it a quick yank. Remy yelped and fell back. Before anyone could even react, Virgil was gone, running after the dogs at a speed that was a bit too fast to be human.

Remy, still lying on the ground, sighed. “I’m not sure if I should be angry or not”

“To be fair,” Roman said, “you kind of deserved that.”

~~~

Almost a half hour past with the three making idle chatter between themselves and watching Virgil running around with the dogs. He somehow managed to keep up with Blue, occasionally even out pacing him. At several points, Patton had to gently reach over to shut Logan‘s mouth. (Greyhounds can run up to 43 miles per hour, the fastest human to date had clocked in at only 28 mph, how…?) Virgil finally came back over, painting lightly.

He flopped on the ground, in the same spot he had been sitting in before, next to Remy who had never actually moved from where he had fallen. Logan was half convinced that he was asleep at this point, but was unsure because of the shades that the god was wearing.

Patton happily flummped to the the ground on the other side of Virgil and struck up a conversation.

~~~

Eventually they had all ended up at the ground. Patton was throwing a ball for Blue to chase. Holly, who had worn herself out already, had joined her owner in dozing off. Roman was sprawled out, with his head in Logan’s lap, Logan leaning against the fence of the dog park.

Casual conversation was flowing between them for now. Remy was almost certainly asleep, having started snoring 15 minutes ago. This was the subject of the conversation now, Roman poking fun at him.

“Is he snoring, or trying to start a lawnmower?” He snorted, as a particularly loud sound left Remy.

Virgil laughed, which startled the three once again, still not expecting such a light sound coming from such an emo nightmare.

“No, he snores like that all the time,” Virgil snorted, “especially when he’s sitting up or laying on the ground.”

“How do you know?” Logan’s comment was absent minded, no real purpose to it besides curiosity. He regretted asking when this small smile easily slid of Virgil's face.

~~~

Sometimes, Virgil regretted opening his big stupid mouth. Why did he say that? He was just felt so relaxed with the three, he let slip details that prompted them to ask questions about his past.

Questions he didn't want to answer. Questions that took him right back to when he was sitting in a strange bed with a strange man sitting slumped over next to the bed in a chair. Terrified to move, to make a noise, terrified that he was going to wake up this man. This man who must have healed him, but also must have seen his deformity, the most disgusting part of himself, because he wasn't wearing his jacket and the stranger had seen him and he was going to hurt him, maybe cut off his tentacles, maybe that wouldn't be so bad-

“Virgil, are you okay?”

Oh Damn it. He had zoned out. They probably thought he was a freak now, not they wouldn't have realised it soon anyways because he so stupid and can’t even control his own limbs when he got excited. He-

“Virgil, can you hear me?.”

That was Remy. When did he wake up, did Virgil wake him up? He did, he did, he did. That was bad bad bad bad.

“It’s gonna be okay, Virgil. Do you need to leave?”

Yes, he wanted to leave! Where was he, where-

Where was he? He was outside. Outside, not in a bed.

Outside. There was dirt. Pebbles pressing into his palms and in a flash he was aware of his hoodie still around him. Not in a bed, or a house. Outside.

“Virgil? Can I touch you?”

The dog park. He was at the dog park, with Remy, who wasn't a stranger, not anymore, who would never do those things to him. Remy was safe.

“Yes.” His answer startled himself. He took a shaky breath to steady himself and repeated “Yes, you can touch me.”

Remmy was hesitant at first, reaching out to rub Virgil’s back. Virgil grabbed Remy’s arm and curled into his side where he was crouched next to him. Virgil shivered in his jacket, breathing coming unevenly.

“Remember your breathing, Virgil” Remy murmured still rubbing his back. “One.., Two… Three…” After a while of that, Virgil was calm enough to remember what had started his attack.

He jerked up, spinning around to face the other three sitting next to him, ready to apologize for freaking out- but they weren’t there.

“Virgil? Are you okay?” Remy asked cautiously, his hand stilling on Virgil’s back.

“Where did they go?” Virgil asked “Why-”

“When you started to zone out, they woke me up. Once they saw that I could handle it, they thought they would be better more of a hindrance to than help. And they left to give you some space.”

“Oh.” Virgil let out the breathe he just now realized he was holding. At least his extra limbs hadn’t busted out of the back of his jacket. Now they knew he was a freak, but at least not how much of a freak he was.

Remy was looking at him now, intently peering over the top of his shades. Virgil shuddered slightly when he met him at Remy's inhuman, hypnotic (literally) eyes. It was times like this that Virgil was reminded that Remy was a god.

“You’re not a freak, Virgil.”  Virgil started, starkly reminded of how Remy was so good at reading his thoughts. Remy had assured him many times that he couldn't actually read minds, but Virgil still doubted sometimes.

He looked at the ground, using to meet Remy's eyes. “I'm tired.” Closing his eyes, slumping into Remy’s chest. “I'm just tired.”  

Thankfully Remy drop it for now, though Virgil had no doubts he would bring it up again later. “I’m going to teleport you to your clearing, close your eyes.” Virgil nodded faintly, and did as instructed.  

He felt a faint squeeze, and heard the whispers you hear when you're alone. Remy had teleported him before, and had already warned him to never open his eyes, otherwise the old gods, the ones who lived in the space between where you were and where you were going, who weren't quite as kind as Remy, was would try to tempt him to stay.

Thankfully teleporting didn’t last long at all, and they were soon surrounded by bird song and the sounds of the stream instead of those Whispers. They were inside his tent, though. He could tell because of the still air, instead of the near-constant breeze of the forest. His eyes refused to open now though, the loss of energy from his attack hitting him in full force.

Remy placed him on his sleeping bag and drew back. Virgil was just awake enough to realize that he was going to leave.

The thought of being alone out in the open hit him hard, as it's often did, and he desperately flung out his hand to catch Remy’s sleeve.

“Don't go, please- please.” Remy didn’t reply, but laid next to him, and Virgil relaxed.

He was lulled to sleep by the sound of Remy’s steady breathing, and the sparrow that was singing in the trees.

~~~

When Roman, Patton and Logan got home, Patton squirreled himself away into his bedroom, and tried to forget about the days events by watching the newest episodes of his favorite cartoon, Moon Stories (An animated show about the adventures of one of the moon goddess’ children.) He wasn't very successful.

Roman has brought him lunch at noon, just a ham and mushroom sandwich and some chips, but other than that, no one bothered him, which he was glad for.

At the moment, he could hear Logan and Roman talking in the living room, but didn’t feel like joining them. He flopped onto his messily made bed and flung his arm over his eyes. The events in the dog park had shaken him. Virgil’s blank, stricken face, breathing shallow, not responding to them was seared into his mind.

He felt tears well up in his eyes thinking of how much terror he must have been in. The poor thing was so scared! And they had left him!

Paton wished they could have stayed and comforted him. But they had woken up Remy, who, once he had come to his senses, was quick to help Virgil. They would have made it worse if they had stayed.

Remy was obviously well equipped to help him. If Patton had to guess, he would say that they were more than friends. They were obviously close. Virgil seemed very relaxed in Remy's presence. Logan may have been confused as to why Virgil would have slept with Remy before, but Patton thought it was rather obvious.

The two down stairs had stopped their conversation, and were coming up the stairs now. The lighter set of footsteps headed for Logan's room, while the heavy pair stopped in front of Patton's own door. Patton smiled, as he knew roman was deciding whether or not to disturb him and knock.

Saving him the trouble, Patton stood up and walked over open the door.

"Hey, Ro." Patton flashed him a small smile. "How’re you doing?"

"I'm good Pat. I actually wanted to ask you how you’re feeling. You looked pretty shaken."

Patton shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. How do you respond to that? He just saw his friend- at least he hoped Virgil was his friend, despite having only met him recently - having a panic attack. That's not something you got over quickly.

Roman let out a breath, not quite a sigh, but close. He swept Patton into a gentle hug, just as much for his comfort as Patton’s

"Next Sunday, if he comes -," Roman broke off, clearing his throat. "When he comes, we can apologize."

"Yes. " Patton smiled a little brighter. He hooked his chin over Romans shoulder. "I could bring him cookies!"

Roman chuckled. "That you can."

"You talked with Logan?" Patton mumbled, the mood lowered again.

"Yes." Roman released another breath, this time it was definitely a sigh. "I think I managed to convince him it wasn't his fault."

Patton nodded as best he could with his chin still hooked over Roman's shoulder.

"And how is he feeling?"

"I don't know. He's closed off again. But I think he just needs some time alone."

Patton hummed sadly. When their relationship had still been in the beginning stages, Logan had a hid a lot his emotions from the two of them, especially his negative emotions. They had been working on open communication, but it seems that Logan had regressed. Their nerd was a genius, but he struggled with emotions and social cues.

"Well," Patton let out of breath, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Remy is good for Virgil, at least."

Roman hummed, nuzzling into Patton's hair. "We can't just assume that they're together, Patton."

Patton's finally broke the hug and flopped back onto the bed. "We can't just ask him either, though. We don't want a repeat of today."

Roman fell onto the bed next to him, spreading himself out dramatically. "It's not our business, really, but if you're that curious, ask Remy. He might give you a straight answer."

"Yeah..." Patton trailed off tiredly." I just feel terrible about scaring him so badly..."

Roman only replied with a sleepy sigh. When Patton looked at him, he was sleepily blinking at him, half asleep already. It had been a long day. Patton let out of small, sad sigh. Normally, all three of them slept in the master bedroom, but it seemed that tonight they were sleeping in separate rooms. He understood that. Logan needed some space at the moment, but he still missed the extra body in bed. He nudged Roman under the covers, where he murmured sleepily at him, then Patton slipped under the covers next to him.

He fell asleep to the sounds of wolves howling out in the street.

Tag list: @moxietea @nightwolf713 @fandersunite @shedglitter

[creedofpoetry]

Hell's Assassin

As soon as John got of work, he realized he was missing something. A file? Journal? “What am I missing?” He asked himself. Right, his rifle. You see, John was an assassin. The day was the 15th of July, and John had just finished assassinating Tom McCartney, a lawyer who was also a witness to a client's crime. The crime was murder, but that's all John knew, as he avoided asking too many questions...quietly and discreetely is how he liked to work.

John packed his rifle into his suitcase and traveled home by car back to his wife. As soon as he got home, his wife, Tiffany was waiting by the door. John walked in and gave his wife a kiss. “How was work honey?” Tiffany asked. “It was alright,” John replied. He laid a sports bag full of cash on the coffee table. Tiffany's eyes lit up. “Oh baby, I love you!” “I know you do baby.” John said, kissing his wife again.

“Your work is so dangerous John, isn't there another way for us to make money?” Tiffany has asked this before, she was afraid for him, nonetheless the illegality of it. John pondered this and looked at his wedding ring. “Do you really want me to find another job?” Tiffany cuddled up to him and looked at him with begging eyes, nodding. John smiled and agreed. “Well, wife, anything for you.” Tiffany rested her head on his lap and fell asleep, thanking him.

After a few moments of closing his eyes, John woke up somewhere...odd. Where am I? John thought. It was as if he was somewhere in a desert, upon closer inspection, he realized it was his neighborhood, yet the buildings, they were desolated. The roads were covered in sand. It looked more like Hell than anything. It occurred to John he was dreaming, the same dream, over and over again for a week now. Suddenly, the sky turned red, blinking red, with a siren that sounded like an air raid.

Suddenly, he woke up in his bed, the alarm clock blaring. He shut the alarm off and got out of bed. Tiffany woke up a few seconds later and looked at John. “Ready for some coffee?” She asked. “Hell yeah.” John said, tightening his robe and walking out the door. Downstairs, Tiffany placed two cup of coffee on the kitchen table. John poured a shot of whiskee into his. Tiffany chuckled, “You're going to be an alcoholic.” “If I was headed toward alcoholism due to a shot of whiskee, I wouldn't deserve testicles.” Tiffany laughed. “Well, drink up!” “Damn straight,” John said, sipping from his cup.

“I had that dream again, last night,” John said to Tiffany. She nodded, “Before we analyze your dreams, tell me what you're going to do for a career, now that you're out of the business of killing.” “Well, after college, because of joining the Navy SEAL's, killing was all I knew, but I could fall back on my engineering degree and double my military training for a government job, maybe FBI?” John explained. Tiffany smiled, “That'd be great for you!” she said. “Awesome, I have a cousin in the FBI, he'll be a good reference.” Tiffany started clapping.

Tim's phone started ringing. He answered, “Hey John!” Tim knew nothing of John's previous career. “Hey Tim, I was thinking about joining the FBI, think you can get me in?” “Sure thing, swing by the office and we'll get you started.” “Thanks, see you soon.” John said, hanging up. He looked at Tiffany and gave a thumbs up. She hugged him. “Alright Tiffany my phone will be on, if you need anything, just call me.” “Yes, husband,” she smiled.

Tim's door knocked a few times. He answered and John walked in. “Welcome to my office!” Tim said. There was an expensive wooden desk in front of the window, with a bookcase full of law books to the right. To the left there was a painting of a mountain. “Is that Mt. Everest?” John asked. “Sure is, me and a few buddies went hiking there for a few days, snowboarding and all.” “Right, so how do we do this? An interview, resume?” Tim laughed, “I guess if you weren't related to the FBI Director.” John simply nodded, waiting for more. “So, when do you want to start?” Tim asked. “It'd be nice to start the training today, if that's alright.” “The training is in the field...” “Sounds good,” John said. “Come along partner,” Tim said. John smiled, being excited to be a government agent. “How much do agents make?” “Not much, but enough.” “ As long as my wife is satisfied.” “Women do enjoy cold hard cash.” “Mhm,” John said, lighting a cigarette. As he took a puff, his phone started ringing. He picked up, “This is John.”

Tim saw John's facial expression, bewildered. All John could here was crying, screaming, fire crackling, and the sound of sand blowing in the wind. John cleared his throat and hung up. “Who was it?” Tim asked. “Nobody, it sounded surreal, almost like a dream.” Tim told John to ignore it and invited him to his car. “We got a call about an assassination, victim identified as Tom McCartney,” Tim said to John. John rubbed his eyes. “Any leads?” John asked. “Ballistics, motive, and a witness.” John doubted there could be a witness, seeing how professional he was at being an assassin.

They arrived at the crime scene and exited the vehicle. They walked up to the body and there he was, yesterday's target. A bullet wound in his chest and blood everywhere. Tim told John about the angle of trajectory and location of the shooter. “This was the third assassination this month. The motive was obviously a paycheck-" “And the witness?” John asked. “Me,” Tim replied. John shuddered. “Look John, I'm not one to give up my family, but this has John Paul written all over it.” “What do you want?” John asked. “Simply for you to be quiet while we cover this up, then we head out to lunch.” “Sounds fair,” said John.

At lunch, John was eating a tray of chicken wings and Tim a hot dog with fries. “You're lucky I was the witness John.” “A simple tying of loose ends could have saved the day.” Tim nodded. “I'm assuming Tiffany wanted you to find a more...stable job?” “She was afraid I'd get hurt.” “The FBI isn't the safest job in the world,” Tim said. “But it is legal,” said John. Changing the subject, Tim asked John about his dreams. “It's as if there was a fallout and there's a purpose for me being there, but I don't know what.” John said. “Hm, anyway, I don't want to stress you out, so take the rest of the day off, go enjoy.” “Yes sir,” said John.

John got home and greeted his wife. “So tell me what happened!” exlaimed Tiffany. “I got the job, but Tim knows about the assassination yesterday.” Tiffany gasped. “He got me out of trouble, but I'm afraid word may get around.” “Would Tim tell on you?” She asked. “He's always been a gossip, but I think enough cash can cool the fire.” Tiffany sighed in relief. “Anyway, I need a shower,” said John. “I'll take one with you,” replied Tiffany.

In the shower, John was caressing Tiffany's breast, giving her kisses on her neck. They sudded each other with soap and rinsed off. Before getting out John brushed his tongue on Tiffany's lips and they massaged each other's tongues, kissing every few seconds. He hugged her and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you,” said Tiffany. John tapped Tiffany on the nose and said it back. Getting out of the shower, John put on his jeans and cracked open a beer and turned on the news, and there was a report on the death of Tom McCartney, John quickly turned the channel to the game.

Tiffany sat down next to him, wearing a jersey. After a couple beers, John nodded off...”Come to me John, come to me!” he heard, somewhere beyond that cliff. He walked forward, into the sand. “Are you ready John? I've been waiting for you...” He jumped after a snake slithered across his boot. He looked up at the cliff, there was a woman standing there, blue jeans, boots, a white t-shirt and leather jacket. Her hair was black and down to her shoulders. She beckoned him and walked forward. “Aren't you that assassin, who got caught by the FBI?” She asked. “I guess, who are you?” “Ariel,” she replied. “What do you want?” He asked. “I need your help,” said Ariel. She handed John a piece of paper, “Meet me there.” John felt a chill run up his spine. “John, John...” he heard, “John!” he woke up to his wife, saying his name.” Still on the couch, he sat up, “You've been out for an hour!” Tiffany laughed. “I'm sorry honey,” John replied. He could feel something in his coat pocket. He reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.

The paper had an address on it, some coffee shop downtown. He looked at the time, 2:30pm. As his wife slept, he got in his car and drove to the address, might as well. And there he saw her, Ariel. He parked in the parking lot and got out of his vehicle. He walked up to her and said, “I'm sorry, but don't I recognize you? I have this paper telling me to meet someone here, you look like her.” “Sit down John...” He was surprised as he sat down. “You're good looking for a man your age,” she said.

“Thanks, that's what my wife tells me.” “Aw, always the good ones who are taken.” John nodded and beckoned to the waitress, “Can I get a small coffee please? Black.” “Same,” Ariel said. “Let's get through this quickly John, I'm not here on a date and in no way am I trying to fuck a married man...but I do need your help.” “How do you know who I am?” John asked. “FBI database,” she said. John nearly spit out his coffee. “You're a government agent?” “Yes,” said Ariel. “What’s the deal?” He asked. “You're FBI now, that's why I need you. I need a sniper to help my team in a drug bust, it's a SWAT team. After the drug bust we need to take the coke, and bring it to Mexico, posing as smugglers.” Ariel whispered. John thought it over, “Do I need to convince you at all?” Ariel said. “No, let me talk it over with my wife, do you have a number?” “Sure,” said Ariel as she wrote it down and handed it to him. “Don't wait too long,” Ariel said, winking to him.

John arrived back home and woke his wife, Tiffany. “Baby, I have a question to ask you.” “What is it honey?” I found this in my pocket, he handed her the address. It was odd, I dreamt about someone giving me that and when I got there, it was the girl from my dream.” “Weird,” Tiffany said. “Mhm, she wants me as a sniper for some drug bust, they're SWAT apparently.” “You must get a mission bonus or something, will you be safe?” She asked, concerned. John rubbed her back, “I've been in way worse situations in the Navy honey, it seems like a simple get in, get out operation,” John said. “Alright, go for it,” Tiffany said, “...and John, please be careful.” John gave his wife a kiss.

He called the number on the note, “Hello?” Ariel answered. “I'm in.” John said. She told him where to meet tomorrow. It was night, and John fell asleep next to his wife. John was lying atop a desert like cliff with his sniper. He doesn't recollect how he got there, but the target was closing in...and there he was, Officer Kimble of the known terrorist group, RPT, or Russian Prophets of Truth. He took the 2 mile shot, and down went Kimble. ‘Call of Duty ain't got nothin' on me,’ John thought. Suddenly, the ledge of the cliff caved, and John could feel himself falling, falling. He woke up in sweat. He looked at the time, 7am. He was careful getting out of bed, not to wake his wife.

After getting ready, John drove to the meeting point. There he saw two SWAT trucks, a few police, and Ariel waiting for him. She waved for him to get out of the vehicle. He got out and walked up to her. “We have you here, a humvee, there's an old tower a mile away, where you'll provide sniper cover during the bust. Just follow us and divert toward the tower on the GPS.” “Seems simple enough.” John said. She handed him a suitcase. “There's your payment, 500k, this operation is a bit off the record, so be careful.” John entered the humvee and buckled his seatbelt. After 20 minutes of driving, John reached his destination and climbed the tower. He said through his mic, “Cover in position.” “Let's do this,” Ariel's voice buzzed through the mic.

Through his sniper he could see the empty part of the valley where the bust was going down. Everyone was in position. Here they came, the Mexicans smuggling the cocaine. Ariel handed one of the smugglers a dufflebag. All seems to have been going smoothly, when suddenly one of Mexicans called out, “Police! Police!” Their cover was blown. Shots rang out through the air. Everyone jumped behind cover. John took a shot, one down, another, two, and another, three. SWAT took out the rest. “Everyone alive out there?” Said John. “Can't say for the smugglers.” Ariel said. “Alright, pack this shit up and get it ready for Mexico...John,” Ariel said, “You're free to go.” “Hooyah,” John said, and got into the humvee, driving back to his car.

As he entered his vehicle, he gave Tim a call, “I just got done with a SWAT operation, 500k, they paid me.” “Under the table?” Tim replied. “Over the top, more like it.” John said. As Tim was about to reply, John saw in his rearview mirror, a shadow creeping up from the back seat. John gasped as he felt a bag cover his head. He heard the sound of his car door open and was pushed out of his car as he felt himself being beaten by several people. He could hardly hear Spanish as he passed out.

He came to...”The cocaine...where is it?” Said a random voice. “What the fuck is going on?” John asked. “The cocaine, Agent Paul.” “Mexico, it's going to Mexico...let me go!” John shouted, through the bag. “In due time, John, first...” the stranger pulled the bag off of John's head, he could see his wife tied to the chair next to him, tears dripping down her face...”Tell me why operations have to run smoothly.” “Look, if it's money you want-" the stranger interrupted, “Operations have to run smoothly, so everybody gets paid. And John, I didn't get paid...did I?” ”I was just doing my job!” John said, “Please, let my wife go...” “John!” She cried out. “Shh, Tiffany, shh, men are talking.” “I'm not an asshole, John, just an entrepreneur of sorts.” “I'm going to let you and your wife go, I just want your word that you'll stay out of the Cartel’s business.” “Fine, just let us go.” John said. They were let outside by the stranger. Sitting in the driveway was their car. Tiffany hugged John, “You handled that well honey.” John sighed in relief. “Let's go home, honey,” he said.

They were quiet on the ride home. They got out of the car and walked inside. Tiffany laid down on the couch and John turned on the TV. John called Tim, “You know that SWAT operation? They know where Ariel is going, my wife and I were taken hostage, they let us go after I told them the cocaine was headed toward Mexico.” John could hear cursing from his cell phone. “I think it's safe to say the FBI isn't for me,” John said. Tim understood, “Take care John.” John stroked his wife's hair, falling asleep.

To be continued...

[greasygyeom]

Title: Look at Me

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: Graduation Ceremony and a sea of people, will you be able to make it through the day? Jinyoung x Reader. Angst/Fluff. Trigger Warning: Death

Playlist: 170830

Author’s Note: (i) San-nakji (산낙지) is a variety of raw dish made with long arm octopus. Although the octopuses are killed before cut into small pieces and served, the nerve activity in the octopus’ tentacles makes the pieces still squirming posthumously on the plate when served.

(ii) I’ve always thought music and reading goes really well together. It’s new format I’m trying. If you would like some soothing bgm that goes with the piece, hit up the link above! It’s a great way to share music too, so let me know if it worked out for you!! Love <3 <3

Graduation day.

Yes, it’s graduation day; the day you finally complete five years of studying art. The day you get that stamp of approval from a bunch of really old people that you are indeed qualified to freely express your mind via any visual medium necessary.

You lay in bed, twisted awkwardly, thinking about the day ahead of you and dread every unholy second that inches it closer.

Social situations make you uncomfortable and jittery. You talk too fast, you tap your feet a lot and your attention span reduces to that of a 15 year old adrenaline junkie in the worlds biggest amusement park, who is constantly nauseated but out of compulsion needs to experience every ride.

But, things are always different when he’s around. Suddenly being in a crowd feels less like a clown circus and more like an art gallery where you’re able to glide through without your head exploding.

So the only activity you are actually looking forward to is seeing Jinyoung, because he somehow manages to make things better, every time.

Thinking about getting on stage, your brain automatically begins to list the scenarios that could cause potential embarrassment. Tripping and falling on and over numerous objects takes up the first few bullet numbers — spearheading your decision to wear boots — flat boots.

You pick up a dress to go with it. Of course it’s all black — you rarely pick any other colour — and pair it with some simple silver accessories.

You force yourself out of the semi-coma you’ve been lying in and take a quick shower. The anxiety begins to spread through your body. You consider tidying up your room in an effort to sooth yourself, an invisible pros and cons list already forming in your brain.

The cons list wins, obviously. You possibly can’t clean every nook and cranny in the time available and if you had to leave the process of cleaning half way through, it would give you more anxiety than you initially began with. You really have no choice but to breathe and drink water.

Tissues. Your brain suddenly buzzes as you close the bottle cap, like a phone alarm springing to life on snooze; because what if something or someone spills liquids - no, worse, solids - on you.

You spend a considerable amount of time looking for the soft kind for runny noses in case you felt especially teary, the rough kind for cleaning that didn’t leave paper traces all over clothes and the wet kind for miscellaneous germ related quirks.

You take your time to get ready, switch on some music and mildly successfully dance away your nervousness.

But somewhere in the middle you let out a yawn.

Coffee, you need so much coffee to go through with this day.

As usual, your irrational fear of not waking up on time has kept you up through the night and as a collateral not only have you been awake for more than 24 hours you’ve also managed to get ready to leave almost an hour early.

“Should have listened to him.” You absentmindedly speak to your dull grey walls and proceed to ‘Netflix and chill’ on your sofa (without the innuendos involved, of course).

After 40 minutes of being on the edge of your seat while watching Stranger, you check the contents of your bag, one final time.

Time really does fly past when you’re engrossed in Jo Seung-Woo’s brilliant acting.

You quickly throw in your lip-balm and check the clock. Five minutes. You scramble to make sure all the plug points are switched off in your apartment — a quirk you’ve picked up from Jinyoung.

You lock up and head downstairs to find a cab.

Of course it rains down on the day you need to step out.

You don’t live too far from campus, you can easily walk it, but choose not to get splashed with muddy water by an inconsiderate driver. With your luck, the chances of it happening are magnified.

Your phone leaps to life as you sit inside the car. There’s an instant smile on your face.

“Hey Moon, all set?” he asks from the opposite end of the line.

“As set as I could be, I think.”

He can hear your anxiety through the phone. “You didn’t sleep. I told you I could call you and wake you up.”

“I know, I should’ve listened to you.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you yesterday. I really wanted to. I wanted to drive you up on your big graduation day.”

“Aw, it’s alright Peach, it’s not that big of a deal. But, I’ll be seeing you later yeah?”

“Of course it’s big deal! I’m actually just dropping some paperwork at the torture chamber right now, I’ll come as soon as I’m done.

Are you nervous?”

You laugh at his torture chamber comment.

“A little maybe? I just don’t want to…. be embarrassed in any way, that’s all. I just need the universe to be this kind today. Get in get out — no fu - udge ups,’ you sheepishly conclude, patting yourself for not actually mouthing the profanity.

His dislike for foul language is as vehement as your dislike for raw octopus, so you seldom cross that line.

You can mentally see his eyes wrinkle around the edges, at your syllabic swerve. A windy snicker reaches your ears. “Nice save dummie, you were so close to eating san-nakji today.

“Never.” you declare with an unwavering determination; the very thought of un cooked food — and not just any food, seafood — sending a shiver down your spine. “Anyway, I’ve reached Uni…. almost. See you when I see you, Peach.”

You hang up and mentally prepare yourself for hypothetical social interactions that may or may not take place, through the rest of the distance.

When you step foot on the cobblestones of your campus, you take in all the air you can. It’s not that you can’t breathe, you really can — but who’s going to convince your brain that.

In the five years you spent locked up in the art halls, studying anatomy, inhaling acrylic paint fumes, you acquaint yourself with a handful of people, none of whom you wish to bump into, at least not alone. Unfortunately, with your only actual friend away on vacation you’re left to suffer the sea of students alone, until Jinyoung’s arrival.

You push your earphones in and switch on your playlist, letting the sweet sounds of the guitar serenade your tense nerves.

Everywhere you look there’s parents following their children to designated seats, going to the art gallery where all the final projects are displayed, buying souvenirs, visiting the mess doing things together and that imagery starts unraveling a tightly sewn hole inside your heart.

You yawn again.

Coffee.

You’re not in the mood for any kind of physical exercise, but you could also walk to the edge of this earth for a cup of good coffee, Kunzum was luckily on a few ways away.

“Hey Minsoo.” you greet your regular barista, at the campus cafe - your safe place.

“Same order?”

“Yeah, Iced Caramel Macchiato, extra strong.”

“Coming right up. You need a doughnut to go with?”

“No, I’m gonna pass on that. I thought you guys would be shut today?”

“I kept it open just for you.”

You realise how much you would miss your bants with him. He’d been your only source of caffeine for 5 years. He probably knows you better than your classmates ever will.

“Should I keep an Americano ready for Jinyoung?”

“You’re the best, Minsoo.“

He grins through his heavy beard and moustache.

The cafe is in a quaint corner of the campus, surrounded by shrubs of Forsythia. Spring was never your season, but as you sit there by your favourite window seat and reminisce the divinity of your campus with the cold-ish winds and sun kissed yellow flowers blooming all over, you can’t help but feel slightly gloomy. You would no longer be able to watch your favourite cherry blossom tree unfold before your eyes.

A deep sigh escapes you, suddenly roadblocking your throat.

You spent five years preoccupied with deadlines and keeping up with your professors and libraries and finessing techniques and it only just dawns on you how empty your schedule is going to be henceforth.

A degree in art isn’t exactly a gateway to becoming a well paid corporate ring leader — not that you want to be one either — but your mind is making you second guess yourself at this point. Maybe you should have gotten that degree in psychology.

“Macchiato right out of the freezer.” Minsoo interrupts, placing the take away cup on your table. You check your phone - still almost an hour for the actual ceremony to commence.

You take in a sip of familiarity.

Your memories race back to a time when you were in your second year — when you’d met Jinyoung in this very cafe for the first time. You smile vaguely, picturing him in the seat by the wall, so engrossed in and visibly distressed by Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore.

The details are a little hazy — it has been three years after all — but what you remember with utmost clarity is the way his expression changed, as he read along the plot twist; how he nodded his head gently as he understood the subtleties of the text.

He had looked so genuine, diving into the depths of what you considered Mr. Murakami’s best work. He’d caught you staring and you had very uncharacteristically smiled back, instead of hiding your face in embarrassment.

He’d ended up buying you another coffee. You’d ended up staying there with him till closing time. The nostalgia makes you weary.

“Miss me?” His face comes into focus.

You’re unable to hide your surprise. “How did you know I was here?”

“I asked myself, where would my caffeine addicted girlfriend be on this campus and my genius brain led me here,” he replies, bending to kiss you on the cheek.

“Some day you’re going to get punched in the face because of your smart mouth.”

You grin, he pouts.

“Your coffee is ready by the way,” you inform, pointing towards Minsoo.

Jinyoung returns holding the donut you had earlier declined.

“Eat,” he says, shoving it in your hand.

You find it difficult to say no to him.

“See you later Minsoo,” you chime from the doorway, gulping in your coffee.

“I want to see your project,” Jinyoung tells you.

“You want to…. see my final project?’

“Why the rhetoric?”

“No! I was just wondering…why?”

He looks at you with a blank expression, his mouth slightly open and his very plump lips curving into a slight o; conveying his feelings with a slight exaggeration.

“Moon, you nearly starved yourself trying to finish it. I want to see what’s more important than food, for you.”

“Only food is important.”

“More important than I am?” he teases.

“You’re a Peach, you’re food alright.”

He laughs, habitually covering up his face to stop his teeth from showing. How you hate that habit of his.

You turn left at the next corridor and make way towards the gallery. Truth be told, even you hadn’t seen your work, post submission. You are just as curious to see what it looks like hanging from a wall.

Walking through those halls next to each other feels like déjà vu from Jinyoung’s graduation two years ago; a time when you weren’t even sure if your relationship would make it beyond the walls of your school.

“Nothing’s changed, but everything’s changed,” Jinyoung breathes in, entering through the gallery doors.

You look around, “It’s that one, the diptych,” you point at two frames, 3rd from the door.

He’s in disbelief and doesn’t hide it. You watch him watch the artwork carefully. He studies it the same way you remember him studying Murakami — with absolute diligence.

He finally looks at you. “You made us?”

Your eyes bolt to the floor. You don’t anticipate the embarrassment that is now painting your cheeks red.

“It’s beautiful.”

Did he really call it beautiful?

“You like it?” you ask, fiddling with your hands.

“Theres a boy, sitting and reading a book on the moon,” he analyses the diptych with a smile on his face. “The same boy is at a coffee shop with the moon shining above. It’s so poetic.”

“I — thanks,” you blurt out. “I tried to not be cheesy about it.”

It was, however, a mild confession of how deeply he had impacted your life. Somewhere in these 3 years he’d started calling you Moon, and somewhere — thinking about it in the last few months — your artwork had come to life.

He looks at you deeply, like he’s searching for something in your soul. You feel transparent under his gaze. He can see through all your walls and peek into your heart without you wanting to fight that feeling of being exposed and vulnerable.

You know what he wants to say, even though he doesn’t say it. He’s subtle like that, always talking with his eyes.

There’s an announcement about the ceremony and the gallery starts to empty out instantaneously.

You yelp and hide behind Jinyoung after spotting one of your acquaintances.

Please let him not find me — you’re quite literally begging the universe at this point.

“Moon, he’s waving at you.”

“No, oh god no.”

“Hi!” Daehyun excitedly greets you. He’s…..chirpy, as always. “It’s great I ran into you, I was just telling my parent’s about you! Your piece! It’s amazing!“

“Haha, thanks. It’s alright, I guess”. Your fake laugh is terrible.

“Did your parent see it? Are they here? Oh man! They must be so proud!”

Your heart falls to the bottom of your stomach.

“I’m with —“ your voice betrays you.

“I’m here with her,” Jinyoung takes over, wrapping his arm around you to keep you from falling.

“You said your parents were here? Are you making them wait? It’s not polite to make your parents wait like that”.

The harshness in his tone combined with the kindness in his eyes throws Daehyun off-guard. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, sorry. I should really get back to them. I’ll see you after the ceremony!” he smiles, bows and runs off.

When Jinyoung turns to you, there’s nothing but worry lines all across his face. “Are you okay?”

You nod, wanting to put his troubles to rest in one go, “I’m fine, Peach”.

He leads you through the arched hallway towards the ceremony grounds. “I’ll see you on stage. You’ll do great.”

You smile nervously as your mind edges closer towards panic mode.

“I should not have let you drink that coffee,” he sighs, catching your hands in his and rubbing them gently. He knows the numbness has reached your fingertips already, seeing how fidgety you are.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. They’ll call my name, and I will walk on stage and walk off stage and I will be fine,” you reply reassuringly, talking more to yourself than him.

“I can see you get your degree from the side, I don’t mind.”

You gently decline his offer, “I want you seated and looking proud of me.”

“I’m already proud of you, Moon.”

His encouragement gives you some strength, but against the influx of 6 year old repressed feelings, it feels a tad bit inadequate.

A high tide washes over you, drenching your consciousness with bitter sweet memories. You wish for your parents. You wish for them to be with you so desperately in this moment.

The speeches begin; your hear starts to race. You pacify yourself with the incentive of it being over soon. But then what?

What are you supposed to do when you get back home. Tomorrow? In a week? What about three months later when you’re still lying on your cold floor, still asking for a bus to hit you one day.

No no no.

No.

You’re not going to do this.

A violent siren triggers in your mind. The darkness begins to widen as an old wound stares you at point blank range. The accident. The cremation. The funeral. The people. So many people, sitting, waiting for you to say something. To tell them how unfortunate it is that your parents passed away. How regretful you feel that you couldn’t even tell them goodbye. How terrified you are of leading a life without them. How proud you wanted to make them.

Your name is announced — Once. Twice.

The third time you snap out of your daze.  

Stumbling forward with what feels like an anchor lodged in your chest, you step onto the stage, cross all the board of directors and shake hands with the dean.

“First Division, very impressive.”

“Thank you, Sir.” you absent-mindedly reply, taking the scroll in your hand.

You want to run away from there as soon as possible because you don’t know how much longer you could hold off the tears welling up inside you.

Jinyoung sees through your exterior, just from how withdrawn and controlled your body language is. His eyes follow you off the stage; you vanish in a split second.

He immediately dials your number.

The number you have dialled is currently busy.

“Ah no, Moon,” he sighs under his breath and gets up to leave. He apologises to everyone in the row for causing a disturbance and sprints, as soon as he’s away from the crowd, in what he thinks to be the right direction.

His foot steps echo through the empty buildings, louder than a snare.

He tries your number again, only to get the same response. He stops in the middle of the atrium; realising the absurdity of running a wild goose chase.

He rakes his brain for your hiding spots.

The cafe is out of the question, Minsoo would ask questions.

The classrooms are shut.

The park outside your main arts building is closed for landscaping.

It leaves only one viable place — the library.

He takes a u-turn and exits through the gym, going through a shortcut to your favourite place on the campus. Out of the 5 libraries, he goes to the one farthest from the main campus — the one closest to the forest.

“Did a girl come through here, maybe fifteen minutes ago?” he asks the proxy-librarian in a hushed whisper.

“Maybe,” the man replies.

Maybe — he could work with maybe. He skips three steps at a time on the stairway to reach the 3rd floor and heads to the section he’s hoping to find you hiding in.

His footsteps soften in an effort to not startle you.

You’re sitting on the small stool people usually climb on to reach the top shelf — hunched over, shaking, hiding your face in your palms, breathing shallow and fast, in the middle of a pool of tissue papers.

You feel some movement around you, but couldn’t be bothered by it.

“Hey Moon, please forget to fall down. Hey Moon, don’t you go down.” he sings, very softly, sitting in front of you, waiting for you to look up. It’s a line from one of your favourite songs. It’s a line he sings to you often, when you’re experiencing your world crashing down.

“Why do you keep finding me,” you groggily ask, sniffing in your tears.

“I’m your muse, aren’t I? I’m supposed to find you.”

“I want to vanish. Jinyoung. I miss them so much.”

He doesn’t say much, just puts his arms around you. You break down even worse than before. All the wind in your lungs empties out with your sobs and you hold onto him for dear life; fearing if you let go, the last glimmer of hope would disappear too.

You keep your head buried in his chest.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do”.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing makes sense to me. I thought if I tried to forget about it — about the accident, I could convince myself it never happened. I thought I could forget them. I thought I could live without them. And most days I’m able to. I got pretty good at it. But then there’s days like today. And I can’t help but hate everyone and every thing,” you ramble.

“Do you need me to schedule a session for you? Tell me whatever you need, Moon”

You shake your head. “What if I fail Jinyoung? At life? What if I’m unsuccessful? And mediocre? What if I die without anyone knowing who I was and what I did? What if one day you wake up and realise you don’t love me anymore? What will I do, Jinyoung. I can’t watch everyone leave me again.”

Another wave of uncontrollable hot tears streams down your cheeks and onto his shirt. You weep incessantly. Your throat is so blocked you feel as if you could choke and die at any moment. And you’re embarrassed — so embarrassed for blabbing out everything on your mind without filtering it. So, not only do you feel like absolute shit, you feel like absolute clingy shit.

You let go of him.

The library tiles below hold your attention for all the excruciating minutes that pass.

“Hey-hey-hey, look at me,” he says, cupping your face. Your cheeks are damper than a riverbed.

You keep retracing the concentric patterns of the floor, unwilling to face him. He nudges your chin, his palms still generating heat on your flesh, forcing you to make eye contact.

You fall fast and deep into the black liquid swirling in his soft eyes. You’re overcome with the same warmth you feel wrapped in a quilt on a cold night. Everything suddenly seems…. manageable again.

He grazes his thumbs over your eye-bags, wiping the residual saline liquid off your face.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

Do you?

You think back to all the times he had come through for you. How he’d witnessed so many of your firsts, when even after two years you felt like a stranger in the city. When you had moved to a new dorm and he’d carried your belongings, for you. When you had moved into your first apartment all by yourself. When you had accidentally burnt your new apartment kitchen and had called him even before thinking about calling the fire department. When your kitten had passed away and he had come over with a tub of ice cream without saying anything.

All the times you’d driven him crazy and he’d never let you feel any less loved. The times he’d waited in the parking lot during your psych visits even though you’d asked him to leave.

He’d been there for everything, no questions asked.

How could you not.

You dip your head low and mumble a barely audible “I trust only you.”

“Then will you trust me when I say you’re going to do something good with your life?”

The tears well up in your eyes again.

He boops your nose with his before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I could wake up and not be in love with you one day Moon, humans are fickle — you taught me that. But, so could you. So, how about we cross that bridge if we reach it?”

You bury your head in his chest when he encloses you in a tight embrace, settling a whirlpool of uncertain emotions in your mind.

“I’m sorry, I unloaded all of that dead parent baggage on you again.”

He gives you an unforgiving, incredulous look which softens as soon as he sees your innocent bloodshot eyes. “You’re supposed to unload your baggage on me. You’re my only Moon.”

You smile. “You know I love that you call me Moon, right?”

“No, you never told me. But I’m happy,” he hums. “I’m here, I love you”.

“I love you too“.

You hold him tighter as he snakes his arms around your waist.

In that moment you wish you could stay like that with him forever, because you wanted nothing — nothing — to ever change.

[god-hunter]

This Would Be So Much Easier if I was a Player...

So things have definitely gotten exciting, on both ends.  Which only makes this harder.  But let’s focus on the positives.  Goth Mom & I went on a date last week and we’re up to Date 2 this week!  [I’m not gonna differentiate between Goth Dog & Goth Cat mom anymore.  The latter isn’t in the equation anymore.  She’s just an online acquaintance that’s fun to talk to.] But yes, Goth Mom & I had a really great time hiking on trails in a nice park that I’ve never been to.  We walked for 3 HOURS!!!  A decent chunk of time was spent chilling on a log where we opened up to each other and learned each other more.  And when conversation ran out, we defaulted to, “I’m having a great time,” which is good.

Meanwhile, Metal Cat girl has definitely gotten steamier with me.  And just yesterday she had a major break-through, or break-up, I should say with her long-term relationship.  So now...  I’m in trouble.  Because I absolutely like both of them for very different reasons.  This would be so much easier if I was a player...

But alas, I am not...

This rant is not meant to be the deciding factor, or to mull over comparisons or anything.  Instead, I’ll just focus on what happened already, and think about what could happen next.

Like I said, last Wednesday was the date!  And I was really, really happy about that.  Leading up to it, I just put a feeler out there about getting out of the house and going for a walk one day, and she was totally into it.  I had no idea it’d be a 3 hour event.

It was really nice, and refreshingly simple.  I’d like to get deeper with her, but at the same time, she has a kid and I think she’s being understandably careful.  We’ve been talking Daily, still, since I first met her in that random Zoom call.  Today marks Day 10.  I’d say, you can only connect so much by Day 10, but by Day 5 Metal Cat girl & I already admitted our feelings to each other.  Still, in her own way Goth Mom has Not been denying me anything.  We talk all the time, and when I put it out there for date 2, I remember saying, “I don’t know if it’s too soon to talk about getting food next, but...”  and she said, “I had a great time with you!  If you ask to hang out and I’m free, I’m not gonna say no!!”

So that’s confirmation enough that she likes my company.  She’s interested in seeing where it goes.  And that makes me thrilled.  I’m so attracted to her.  But it has to be more than that.  We need to bond on the same values and have enough similar interests that we don’t absolutely bore or alienate each other.

I love her artistry.  She’s really good at painting.  One thing that sucks is that she works, All the time.  [I will eventually too.]. But poor girl only gets one day off a week.  Always on Monday.  Which I think should truly be her days to herself, knowing that.  She gets out of work early on some days though, and for 2 Wednesdays in a row, she’s made that our Date Night.  So, who knows.  Wednesday might become Goth Mom Day, but..  still too soon to tell if we’re gonna fall into a pattern.

I recall things going well with girls before, and even having good 2nd dates.  But somewhere in there they make their decision and don’t tell you about anything by the time you plan for Date 3.  I’ve found out the hard way before that people haven’t been interested, at least once.

So I’m guarded about that.  Part of me fears that we aren’t connecting enough. But I’m remaining cool about it.  In our daily talks, it’s very simple stuff like, “How was your day?  What are you up to?”  And just that type of stuff is nice enough.  She always makes it a point to say Good Morning and Goodnight to me.  And last night was our first actual Phone call rather than just texting.  So who knows if that will continue.

I like that she’s regimented in her schedule to put her kid to bed at the same basic time every night.  She goes to bed way earlier than me because of work.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing at all, but who knows?

At the first date, we’ve established what we’re both looking for in a relationship and people.  We’re both kind of in the same place.  She wants to work on herself more, but she’s open minded to meeting someone and spending time with them to see where it goes. Whereas, I got out of something serious in February and am ready to meet new people, but at the same time just want to see where it goes.

Still, her language sent the signal to me that she wants to take things very slow.  And I don’t know how interested I am in doing that.  I have a feeling Date 2 will give me more of an idea on where any of that is going and how I feel further.

And then we have Metal Cat girl, who needs a new name by this point.  I want to switch it to Nerdy Potential girl, because that’s exactly what she is.  In the short time we’ve known each other, this person has expressed so much potential for me as a possible partner, it’s crazy!!!!  In fact, it sends a red flag.  This person can’t wait to spend time with me!!

She’s already been to my place 4 times.  I can’t even remember why she came over the first time.  I know I talked about it already, but what made me feel so awkward was that it was in secret.  She was supposed to be on her way to her Cousin’s out East.  Now I remember.  Then, there was a Doctor Appointment that she made an excuse for.  The 2nd Meeting was me telling her that things are actually going well with Goth Mom and it made her cry...  She thought this was over.  I didn’t mean to give her false hope, but I told her that nothing we’ve already said or done was diminished.  It’s just that she was still in a relationship and I was uncomfortable.  And she had told me to straight up, not to wait.  Go date.  So that’s what I’m doing.  And I actually see a possibility with this person, I think.  So I want to see where that goes.  But that’s where this honesty gets fucked, because I absolutely care for this person too.  And we’ve discussed about this openly at the 2nd meeting.

On the 3rd meeting, which wasn’t long after... we 100% hooked up.  In fact... I think this was the day after my date... ::facepalms:: Nerdy girl was so sweet and lovey dovey the night before that I kind of stopped caring and really wanted to see her.  We had talked about how on Monday, the 2nd meeting, we just cuddled and touched each other a bit.  It was a major tease, but the boundaries weren’t crossed.  It was petting her hair and a pseudo massage.  Hers was tempting petting of the legs, but nothing further.  We both controlled ourselves and she eventually left. So after that great date with Goth Mom, and all of this talk about how great Monday was already, I couldn’t wait for her to come over and for us to just be like that again. Well, we definitely did more, but we still drew a line.  We massaged and groped each other a bit, but we didn’t fuck.  Dry humping is very close though.  And we 100% made out.

And this pisses me off, because I’m not giving myself an honest shot anymore, like I said I wanted to do.  But the other part of me doesn’t want to wait forever, and doesn’t know if I’ll ever have a connection in the same way that I do with Nerdy girl.

I’ve fully admitted that I don’t know what I’m doing.  And she’s okay with that. She just at the same time, wants to make sure that she doesn’t lose out...

Then she came a 4th time, unexpected the next day... This was a bit of a red flag to me.  At the 3rd visit I said she shouldn’t be coming around every day or even every few days.  Just once in a while.

Instead, this girl tells me that she was baking brownies and surprised me with a phone call saying she was on her way to drop me off some.  I never asked for that!  She caught me off guard and it interrupted my day!!!

Not that I had much going on that day, but still...  it was weird.  And she definitely didn’t want to leave after 5 minutes.  Instead, she stayed for like an hour.  We didn’t do anything this time.  She just wanted to talk.  And the talk was more serious again.  It was like our 2nd meeting.

She was asking how to win me over.  And it was the most awkward, on-the-spot situation.  I told her it wasn’t about that.  And that truthfully I like both of them.  And that I have to see where this goes.  I was supposed to meet her.  That was the plan.  Nerdy Taken girl falling for me, wasn’t meant to happen.  That’s her own shit coming at me and interfering with the original intentions.

So it was a really weird discussion, but it certainly wasn’t an argument.  There was absolutely no horse play, which I’m glad about.  She even met me in the middle and said that if I found my person, she doesn’t want to interfere with that.  But at the same time, she thinks she found her person, and she thinks that's me.

It’s amazing. It’s heartwarming. It’s sweet. It’s unexpected.  But at the moment, it’s also unwanted.  It’s so fucking insane.

I don’t have it in me to just blow off Goth Mom and run away with Potential Girl.  Even if all the other boxes are checked...

But the latest news is that just yesterday, Nerdy girl and her boyfriend agreed to separate.  That’s how she put it.  She is going through EXACTLY what I went through in February.  And as promised I’m there for her.  But I also need to give her time.  Really, truly.

No matter how ready she thinks she is, she can’t just start up a relationship with me right away.  She needs to give herself at least a little bit of time to live with herself, and not rely on someone else for companionship, company or something to do.

I don’t know.  That’s such a hard thing to enforce when you’re actively flirting with someone.

But right now, for me, I gotta focus on that 2nd Date.  Which I’m still very excited about.  When I compare the two, I do think that Goth Mom & I have a simple attraction for each other.  I think she’s hot and I like talking to her.  Period. While Nerdy girl and I straight up feel like we’re together already. But this is what I meant to say...  At the 3rd or 4th hangout, the inevitable happened... She had to answer a phone call and lie to her Dad about where she was... And it made me feel SO UNCOMFORTABLE.  I told her as such at the 4th hangout.  She apologized.  I told her that I already feel like the Other Man.  And this isn’t good.

There’s other things that she probably hasn’t considered yet.  Like will there be a falling out with the original friend that introduced us?  Will that person get thrown off, because instead of dating the single girl, I ended up breaking up 2 of her other close friends...?

The idea sickens me.  It’s not my fault.

She fucking fell for me.  And I definitely adhered to it.  

Sometimes I wonder if the whole thing is already fucked.  If the foundation is too screwed up.  And even if things work out for us, there’s going to be this weird sour spot at how we initially started.

I know for a fact, that if Goth Mom gets to the point where she respectfully tells me that she has fun with me, but she doesn’t think of me that way, then it will be So Easy to gravitate towards Nerdy girl and take whatever steps necessary to make that an actual thing.

But if Goth Mom gets into me and we finally hook up and stuff?  That means we’ll have reached a level of intimation that she is comfortable enough to consider adding me into her life with a child!  And all the baggage that comes with it.  Her Ex is still in the picture and he’s a raging asshole that isn’t going away.  This is absolutely something that I have to factor in.

Is that worth it?  Is that something I want to take on...?

There’s still so many God Damn Unknowns.

But that's where things stand right now. I hope I’ll have more of an idea on how I feel after our 2nd date.  We’re gonna get Mexican together and dine out for the first time during this Pandemic.  I’m wary of it, but I’m also trusting her through this.  When we walked together, we both did so without masks.

Covid is absolutely still a thing.  Even if the curve has been flattened, where I live.  I fear that my Unemployment is going to end sooner than later, and eventually I’m gonna be in a completely new thing all together.

I really don’t know.  A new work schedule will certainly reshape how I act and do what I do.  And when it comes to Goth Mom, that might completely jive with her.  Nerdy girl is still working on getting her Unemployment back-pay, which I think is insane!!!!  But she’ll either be in a position to do her own thing all the time, or she’ll go back to work, and just get a hefty check at some point.

Either way, things are definitely changing for all of us.  And things really could go any way at this point which is why I wrote now, rather than later.

Until next time, folks.

[angewrites]

Interference

Title: Interference 

Title Definition:  (n) The ability of two waves passing through each other to mingle, reinforcing each other where crests coincide and cancelling each other out where crests and troughs coincide.

Anime: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D’s

Words: 5844

Summary:  With Yusei and Jack gone to Nazca lines, Aki struggles to understand her physics homework. With a test coming up the next day, she calls Crow to ask for help and, to her surprise, he agrees to help her. But, as it turns out, physics isn’t the only thing she’s confused about. Also, it happens to be her birthday. Aki’s POV, Firebirdshipping (Izayoi Aki x Crow Hogan-sama)

Notes: It’s August 16th in Japan, which means it’s Aki’s birthday!! I’ve been working on, reworking, and editing at least ten times this fic for 8 days (I even used my high school physics notes for this lmao). And honestly, I’m in love with how this turned out. I was even thinking about it in my sleep lmao.

Anyway, this is the first time in a long loooong time I’ve written romance of this caliber, so if y’all got suggestions, I’m all eyes. But, even if you don’t, please let me know what you think of this b/c I’ve been dying to publish this since yesterday haha.

Happy reading!!

[FFN] [AO3]

Izayoi Residence

If I had to choose between fighting a worldwide threat and a physics test, I’d opt for the worldwide threat. Getting a diploma didn’t depend on how well I fought it. Better yet, I’d rather be in a cheesy, poorly-written high school romance (my least favorite type of romance movie) and pretend to take a physics test rather than actually take one. It’s ridiculous. Why was Duel Academy still holding classes? The rest of the city’s in shambles from Yusei’s fight with that Yliaster guy. It didn’t make any sense.

I opened my purple physics notebook as slowly as I possibly could. The test’s still happening, no matter how much I complained, hoping it would go away. We’d been studying a unit that had flown over my head since day one. I’ve tried talking with Mr. Kimura about my frustrations, but back-to-back staff meetings conveniently interrupted the explanation sessions, so I was at a total loss. Yusei had been helping me as much as he could before the World Riding Grand Prix. Eventually, preparations took over. I still didn’t understand.

And the test’s tomorrow.

And the test’s worth half our grade.

And it’s my worst class.

And I couldn’t exactly sing a musical number and hoped everything would turn out fine by the end.

How I envisioned spending the night of my 17th birthday? Not even close.  

I exhaled and glanced out my window. The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky with a light bluish orange. Maybe he’s not too busy and he could help.

Wait a sec. He visited the kids after his job, didn’t he? I doubted he would want to waste his free time helping me with physics.

But, I didn’t have many options. My parents were away on a trip for the next two days and I couldn’t possibly bother them. It’s unlikely they’d understand the material enough to help me, even if I did. I couldn’t ask my other school friends either because none of them understood the stuff.

And I didn’t even have Bruno’s number.

I was desperate for help. Nothing was making sense.

I called Crow before I could change my mind.

 When the heavy diiiiiiiing-dong sound of the doorbell reached my ears during my futile attempts to understand wave motion and interference, I glanced at my rose-shaped clock. 20:00. Exactly. If it was Crow, hmph. Some nerve he had to show up an hour late. Who did he think he was, the sloppy sidekick friend always showing up with coffee? I went down the carpeted stairs and opened the door.

There he was, standing there scratching the back of his head, which he always did when he did something he shouldn’t have done, his spiky orange hair as disheveled as ever. The words slipped out like venom before I had a chance to think.

“You sure took your sweet time, Crow.”

He stopped scratching his head. I bit down on my bottom lip, tasting the remainder of my cherry-flavored chapstick, wishing to take back those words. The tension was thick enough to be suffocating, so I opened my mouth to offer a quick “Sorry,” but Crow laughed before I could even get a breath in.

“Yeah, I did. It’s for a good reason, trust me,” he said. He placed a calming hand on my shoulder, a familiar gesture yet so unusual at that moment. “Before that, though, you need help in physics, right?”

I nodded, noting Crow had placed a hand protectively over one of his jacket pockets – the left one. He was wearing his bright yellow Blackbird Delivery jacket. He must’ve come straight from work.

He shrugged his shoulders, smiling. “I guess I know a thing or two about that. I’ll do my best.”

 We made our way up the stairs to my room, Crow taking longer than I was. That’s right. It’s the first time he’s ever been to my house. Not only that, but he’s also the first friend to come over. He was shocked by how fancy everything was, from the vases to the floral wallpaper to the Renaissance paintings my father collected, bought, was given to on his business trips.

Things Crow normally didn’t see on his side of town.  

Although I lived here, at that moment, I felt a tinge of embarrassment. I swallowed hard, managing to say, “My room’s this way.”

Crow made one last look at one of the paintings before shrugging his shoulders and trekking up the stairs. I took a seat, the unfamiliar and confusing wave motion and interference notes and formulas glaring at me from on top of my desk. He took his place next to me, glancing at my notes.

“Ya gotta understand this by tomorrow?” He grabbed the purple spiral notebook from on top of my writing desk to have a better look, I guessed.

“Yeah. A huge test. A nice chunk of my final grade, no less,” I replied, crossing my legs and arms. “But, I don’t get any of it and neither do any of my friends at school.”

“Mhmmmm,” Crow replied, looking intently at my notes, trying to decipher them. I didn’t exactly have the best handwriting, so I didn’t blame him for struggling. Still, if he had that much trouble figuring it out, he could’ve asked me, for goodness’ sake.

“If you can’t read my handwriting, just tell me,” I spoke up, leaning back in my cushioned chair.

“No, it’s not that,” he corrected. “It’s just . . . this is so easy. Even Jack could figure this out.”

“Really, Crow? That’s not very helpful,” I scoffed, holding myself tighter.

Crow must’ve realized why I was suddenly so rattled.

“Woah, my bad. I can help you with this, though. It’s not hard. You just need to take it one piece at a time.”

“One piece at a time, huh?” I muttered, taking the notes from his hands.

“Yeah, let me show you,” he said, moving to behind my chair and extending an arm towards my notes. He pointed at various formulas and terms in a sequence. While that was my learning style, I was unable to focus. His covered-by-his-work-jacket arm was just centimeters away from my bare arm. My heartrate accelerated, a wave of nervousness overwhelming me. The hairs in the back of my neck stood up and I broke out in a cold sweat.

All because of an arm.

Whenever that happened to other characters in a romantic comedy, I’d always cheer for the one feeling overwhelmed to get with the guy or girl already . . . which was then followed by an hour and a half of them trying to get together, misunderstandings and all. It was annoying when I thought back on the movie, but I fell for it as it was happening. Every. Time. They got together at the end, so what did it matter?

I didn’t think that would ever happen to me. But, it didn’t make sense for it to happen either since Crow’s only a friend. He definitely thought of me as just a friend too.

I was sure of it . . . I guess.

Crow was trying his best to explain interference and wave motion and all to me, but my mind and heart were making it hard to focus. They’d rather help me fully and irrevocably concentrate on another problem.

Him.

I didn’t understand at first where the attraction came from, whatever kind of attraction it was. Sure, he did drop everything he had planned, which probably included visiting the kids at Martha’s, just to help me with something he thought was simple. Before that, he even supported me after that poor performance against Team Unicorn, taking time out of the chaos to make sure I was alright. He did all of that even though he went through a lot to train me in a number of early mornings for the tournament, even though he should’ve been focusing on his arm recovering.

And, okay, okay, he wasn’t half-bad looking either – even with all the markers on his face. He was actually kinda cute.

But, that didn’t mean I liked him like. Like that. That was ridiculous. Crow was just a super good friend I could laugh with. I could improve my skills as a D-Wheeler with. I could practice my dueling skills against.

That’s all he was. A friend.

“So, you got that?”

Crow’s voice forces me back to the original problem – the interference problem. I turned against my will to face him.

A sensation overwhelmed me.

It was a strange sensation. It wasn’t like when I first met Divine, when I had felt acceptance – it was a false one, but it made me feel I had belonged. I wasn’t an outcast or a monster to the people in the Arcadia Movement. I was powerful, I was strong, I was feared. There were people who looked up to me. They accepted me for who I was because of him. Divine - a typhoon engulfing me, violently lashing out at anyone who dared to come close under the guise of protecting me.

It wasn’t like when I had first met Yusei either. Even though I was afraid when I met him – something about his demeanor had given me chills and he had been so bold in his convictions – those feelings gave way to warmth. Light shrouded in darkness, but it persistently shone through till the darkness dispelled. Its warmth gave me courage to change, face my problems head on, to think for myself. And I gravitated towards it, fell head over heels for it. For him.

This sensation with Crow was . . . different. Vastly different.

I found myself staring at Crow’s lips in typical romantic comedy movie fashion. “M-Mhm.”

“Uh, Aki, my eyes’re up here,” he said, half-concern, half-“what the hell are you doing?”

I felt my cheeks flush a little and prayed they didn’t appear red as my frilly sleeveless blouse. I held myself tighter in my arms and legs crossed position. Ugh, how embarrassing.

“I got that!” I retorted.

Crow only laughed, clearly comfortable at that point with the harsh way I would accidentally tell him things, and he said, “No big deal. Let’s just go over it again to make sure you really do understand it, though, ‘kay?”

It wasn’t dramatic in the slightest, but the sensation was still something extraordinary. It was a longing, yearning. Yearning to just be myself and to be myself with him. And stay with him, long after this tutoring session was over.

What in the world was this feeling?

“Okay,” I responded, silently praying I pay attention this time to physics. I needed to pass the test, after all. That ear-to-ear smile he gave wasn’t helping with that, though. Nor were my heart and nerves. I swallowed hard and sat with my back aligned with my chair, as if doing so would return my feelings to normal.

They didn’t.

I was, however more alert and willing to finally knock down the physics wall as Crow re-explained the connection between wave motion and interference. The passion with how he was explaining something that was simple to him captivated me. He somehow related wave motion and interference to D-Wheels and Riding Duels, two things I felt vastly inexperienced in but certainly knew more about.

“So, kinda like how a Riding Duel tournament is just a bunch of duelists with D-Wheels coming together, periodic waves are basically multiple pulse waves. The periodic waves are the tournament, the pulse waves are the people,” he mentioned as we neared the last problem. “Might be a stretch, but that’s how I’m seeing it.” Crow scratched his head.

“No, this makes perfect sense,” I replied, writing down the comparison so I could remember it. “I wish my teacher had explained it like this in class.”

“Heh. There’s only so much those teachers can do, huh? Might be worth it to just go to a class and see how much I know.”

I sighed, but then I laughed at the possibility. It was hard enough to imagine Crow in any school setting, real or fabricated, much less a high school, or, even worse yet, a university.

“You’d get kicked out, for sure,” I said, finishing up my writing.

Crow harrumphed. “This is payback for the Jack comment, isn’t it?”

I gave a small smile. “Maybe.”

By the time I felt I fully understood the concepts for the test the next day, it was already 21:30. I stretched my arms, relieving the tension physics placed on me. While it felt fantastic to have finally figured out my physics problems, there’s still one problem left I needed to solve. Well, two problems, but they involved the same person. And I had hoped to solve them by the end of tonight.

“That’s all I can do for now,” The Problem himself announced. “Hopefully, that helped.”

“It did. Thanks a million, Crow,” I replied. “By the way, you were going to tell me why you were late today. That’s what you said earlier, right?”

Crow nervously laughed, which I thought was odd. “Okay, yeah, ya got me. Like I said, though, it’s for a good reason. I had to do something for your birthday and all.” He reached into one of his pockets – the pocket he had been protectively placing his hand over the entire time – and pulled out a small black plastic bag.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could manage, given finances and all. ‘scuse the wrapping,” he said, handing it to me.

It took all I had to not let my mouth drop completely to the floor. I hastily took the black bag and pulled out a small rose keychain. It wasn’t one of those flat keychains either; it was one of those three-dimensional ones that had figurine-like quality to it.

“All those schoolbags look alike to me, even though the kids like to argue with me that they don’t, so this is to just make sure no one takes yours,” Crow said, his voice sounding triumphant.

All he could manage? Just how much did he spend on this?

“Crow . . . these aren’t cheap,” I replied. “How much money did you spend on this?”

“Happy birthday!”

“I’m serious!”

Crow waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Aki. Really. It didn’t cost an arm and a leg, I promise.”

“Crow . . .” I persisted.

“Okay, okay, fine. I spent a day’s work at my job on this,” he gave up, shrugging his shoulders. It was adorable – wait. “Really, don’t worry. It’s for you and that’s why I was okay with getting it.”

Just when I had him and how I felt about him figured out, he added even more problems.  

Truth be told, the concern with money was just a coverup for how I felt. It’s not that I didn’t get presents for my birthday, but it’s the first time I’ve ever gotten anything on my birthday from a friend.

If that’s what Crow was.

If this had been part of a friends-to-lovers movie, it would’ve been the part that started the whole “and suddenly, the friends realized they had romantic feelings for each other” portion of the movie. But, obviously, that didn’t apply then.

. . . Yeah, it didn’t apply. Not even close. My heart kept screaming “Liar!!” at me. I ignored it.

To think that’s why he was late. It’s frustrating. I couldn’t help but smile though as I tied the present onto my black school bag. It was a nice one, but, unfortunately, all I was going to think of whenever I saw it was him.

Who was I kidding? I meant fortunately.

“I . . . I just. Thank you, Crow,” I managed to get out, trying to quell my rapid heart beating. My heart didn’t even act as unsettled as I felt then when I was around Yusei. But, why would it ever act this way around Crow?

Crow gave a thumbs up. “Don’t sweat it. But, I’ve got to go now. Got an early delivery shift tomorrow morning and a bird needs his rest.”

My heart pounded in my chest, as if the feelings it had been holding were to burst at any moment, all my emotions laid out bare for Crow to see.

“If you got any last-minute questions tomorrow, well, you know how to reach me.”

He was a friend! Nothing more. Besides, the one I liked that way was Yusei, right?

“I’ll see you later, Aki.”

. . . right?

“Yeah, see you,” I blurted out on instinct. My reason and my brain fought with my emotion and my heart on how important the problem was. Score one for emotion and heart.

Wrong. So, so wrong.

I was frozen in my chair, watching Crow walk slowly towards the stairway. He’s probably walking at a normal pace, but I wouldn’t have known. Everything with my body was hyperaware and time had slowed down. My body gave it its all trying to solve this one problem. My heart screamed, cried, pleaded for Crow to stay and reason decided to take a back seat.

I . . . I liked Yusei. I did. I thought. I didn’t know. Everything was so confusing.

I grabbed my chair by the armrests and got up, Crow getting ready to go down the stairs. I couldn’t help but stare at his lips again. Maybe. Maybe that’s the key. Maybe doing this will solve the problem and clear everything up once and for all.

I swallowed my bottom lip, the taste of the cherry-flavored chapstick long gone. It’s better I didn’t think too much about it. I needed to go with my gut feeling. That’s what those romance movies always said, anyway, if the brain and the heart wouldn’t cooperate. My gut feeling wasn’t confusing and it’s always right. My gut feeling was . . .

“Wait!”

Crow came back up the stairs, reentering my room. I sauntered in his direction as he asked, “Yeah? What’s up?”

I made sure there was some space between us. And then, when I closed my eyes, there wasn’t. Not even between our lips this time.

He wasn’t just a friend. I finally made up my mind. He was more than that.

I had intended to only for the kiss to last a half a second, if that long, because I had felt so awkward. Aaaand I might have accidentally crashed my teeth into his? Whoops. Grade for first kiss: 0. It was enough to make even a five-year-old girl cringe.

But, that sensation I had felt from him . . . it invited me in and I crashed into it headfirst . . . or lips first? Whatever. The point is I didn’t let the awkwardness get to me for longer than I thought.

Despite that, I pulled away quickly, that sense of calm giving way to worry. Like someone who trips in front of their crush near the climax of the movie, I felt a wave of nausea and anxiety. Way to go, Aki. He probably just saw you as a friend like you thought he was and you made so many presumptions. You get a failing grade in dealing with your emotions, no matter how well you did on the Physics test tomorrow. And, ugh. That first kiss was pitiful.

I stepped back, still catching my breath, my cheeks incredibly flushed. I couldn’t hide the redness and felt trapped, my emotions holding me hostage. Crow’s face was one of complete shock, his face also flushed. I didn’t blame him. I had just invaded his personal space, after all (although that arm of his clearly invaded mine, so we’re even there). I had asked him for help on physics. That moment just then, our lips touching, the kiss? Clearly more than he bargained for.

It’d be a miracle if he still wanted to talk to me. No way he, someone who’s incredibly selfless, wanted to be with someone who’s so selfish.

“A-Aki?” Crow stammered, clearly unhinged.

I turned towards the window so he wouldn’t see my face.

“I. I overstepped some boundaries there,” I responded, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

I expected all kinds of reactions. “Aki, what the hell?”, “Yeah, you should be sorry!”, “Don’t speak to me ever again,” followed by a door slam. It wouldn’t have been the first time Crow reacted dramatically (and rightfully) to my rash decisions. That and that’s usually what happened in the movies. So, I braced myself.

Instead, what I got was an “Aki, it’s okay.”

I dug my fingernails into my palm to keep from breaking down right then and there. “W-What does that mean? You don’t even like me like that.”

I heard his footsteps, muffled by the carpet. A soothing hand rested on my shoulder. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“It means that I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his composure having returned. “And . . . I don’t like you like that? That’s news to me.”

I stared ahead, but my defenses weakened a little bit.

“If that’s true, then - then why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “Instead of leaving me in the dark?” I managed to hold it in, but my voice cracked a little and my eyes watered at the corners.  

“Because I thought – the whole team thought the one you liked was . . . well, you know. I didn’t want to complicate things,” he admitted. “I was surprised you even called me to help you with physics. You never ask for anyone’s help other than his.”

So that’s it. The problem solver was also a problem the entire time.

“I guess . . . You’re right. I came across like that, didn’t I?” I let a few tears fall, but a smile broke out on my face. “I’m. I’m sorry, I’m just. I. I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do”

Crow only pulled me closer to him, his hand moving from my shoulder to my arm.

“I . . . thought I liked Yusei, but I don’t know. I just can’t understand him,” my voice became louder, “can’t get close to him. I was – I was just hoping he’d notice.”

It’s true I did like Yusei, but at that moment, I wondered. Was I attracted to him because of him or because of what he did for me?

“So, what do you want to do?”

I looked at Crow, not even bothering to hide my tears anymore.

“I mean, you did kiss me, but don’t let that hold you back. If you still plan on pursuing Yusei, I won’t stop you,” he said as he looked to his left as he said that and frowned.

Crow’s not one to lie. I knew that. But, I could easily tell when he’s undermining his true emotions. He didn’t want to hurt me, be insensitive. He knew I had liked Yusei for a while. I got that.

He really needed to be selfish for once, though. It’d be easier for me as well as for him. Especially since Yusei had yet to confess any sort of feelings for me.

Romance movies normally didn’t take this turn that I struggled with then. Sure, there were those love triangles that got on my nerves, but this wasn’t a love triangle. It was a love tug-of-war. I couldn’t rely on movies to tell me the answers to my feelings this time. I had to go with my instincts and my own feelings.

I always hated that part in the movies where the guy or girl claimed to have fallen in love with someone else, but it turned out they only fell in love with the idea of the person they wanted to be with, not the actual person. Especially in those cheeky high school dramas. Yet, it was that type of idolization that got celebrated in the movies.

I would turn off the movie as soon as I realized that’s happening because who the heck wanted to live like that? They’re just a person.

Was my longing for Yusei any different? Did I want to be with him or did I want to be with an idea of him?

In all honesty, my longing probably fell into the “falling in love with an idea” trope. He saved me from blindly accepting everything around me. He helped me understand how a D-Wheel maneuvered. But, there was something about him I couldn’t reach. Instead of trying harder or instead of doing something more productive like not doing that, I settled, hoping he would willingly open up.

Pathetic.

“No,” I said, voice trembling. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

I could hear Crow’s breathing become more ragged.

He didn’t even turn my life around like Yusei did. But, he was there for me. He was always encouraging me to become better but never asking me to change when I wasn’t ready to take that step. What really was the clincher was that I felt the need to change with Yusei just so I could measure up and get him to talk to me, somehow. Crow made me feel comfortable with myself.

Changing as a person’s important, but constantly changing without a break just for one person’s exhausting.  

“Aki, you sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper. “Is it really what you want?”

“As sure as I am about at least passing my Physics test tomorrow,” I joked, turning to face him, not even caring that he saw my tears anymore. “And I’m pretty confident about that now.”

“Aki . . .”

“Also, would it hurt you to be selfish for once in your life?” I asked with a “I can’t believe you” light-hearted tone. “If you hadn’t been so selfless, not wanting to complicate things for me and all, we wouldn’t have had this problem.”

Crow laughed, his cheeks a light shade of pink.

God, he’s cute.

“Okay, okay, my bad, my bad,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I guess you got me there. I’m sorry.”

After all he did for me that night, on my birthday, no less, he’s the one apologizing? He’s a mess. But, I was a mess too. At least we could both be messes together.

“Crow, it’s fine,” I murmured. I wrapped my arms around his neck, his around my waist. The two of us smiled.

“Don’t pull away this time, Aki,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” I whispered back, softly laughing.

“And try not to smash into my teeth. They’re the only ones I got.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

And he did. All of the romance movies I’d seen couldn’t even come close to preparing me for it because did he ever. Didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath first.

It’s a good thing he had his arms around me.

 After we let go, everything was out of focus.  My room was like one of those surrealist paintings and everything’s hazy and dreamlike. My head felt incredibly light and I struggled to keep my balance, so I didn’t let go of Crow right away. He didn’t seem to mind. He was still holding me, fortunately, his arms wrapped firmly yet gently around my lower back.

“You alright?” he whispered, his voice husky. It made my heart flutter.

“Yeah, but no sudden moves, okay?” I whispered, my face pressed against his shirt.

No verbal response, but I felt a quick kiss on the top of my forehead. And another. And one that lingered a while longer. I pressed my body firmer against his, a giggle escaping my lips.

I didn’t want the moment to end.

It was true I didn’t realize Crow was the one I liked – like that – until that evening, but it was that night that made me understand how much I’d fallen for him.

How much I wanted to do annoyingly cute couple things with him like go to the movies, watch the sunset, or just hold hands.

How much I wanted to just be with him, laugh with him, be with him every step of the way.

How much I just wanted to kiss him. Over and over and over again.

How much I wanted him.

I’d thought maybe it’s just a random feeling trying to complicate how I felt about Yusei. I was wrong.

The raw, fiery, yet tender romantic feelings.

They were all for Crow.

Life outside of this room still existed, the logical and reasonable side of my brain reminded me rudely, however. I still had that test tomorrow, Crow had that early shift in the morning, and Yliaster’s still very much a threat. I let go of him and took one step back.

“It’s getting late. You should probably go,” I said.

Crow closed his eyes and sighed, a smile on his face. “Well, I did say I had that early shift, so I guess I should.” The smile was exchanged for a frown however and he opened his eyes. “You gonna be alright? Your parents’re away on a trip, you told me.”

Always the worrier. I said, “Don’t worry. The security system’s pretty good on the house. They wouldn’t want to mess with me, anyway. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you off, if you want.”

Crow looked at me for a moment as if he wanted to say – or do, maybe? – something else. He shook his head and he and I, after grabbing the housekeys, made our way towards the front door. We stepped outside, the humid and muggy air overwhelming us, where his D-Wheel, Blackbird, was waiting.

“Well, I’m off,” he announced.

“Have a safe trip back,” I said. “I’ll let you know how the test goes tomorrow. Let me know when you get back to your place.”

“I will.”

“And . . . thanks for tonight, Crow. For everything,” I said, putting the key in my back pocket.

Crow threw out a “heh” under his breath and placed his thumb under my chin and his pointer finger on it, lifting it slightly.

“C-Crow?” I stammered, fire burning in my cheeks.

“What, can’t a guy give his girlfriend a goodnight kiss?” he asked innocently.

“You taking my kissing virginity in my own room wasn’t it?” I asked innocently right back.

“That was Part One. Or Part Two, if you count the one you nearly knocked out my teeth as Part One.”

“I said I was sorry.” I pouted.

“You did, so I’m counting it. So . . .  think of this as Part Three.” He moved his thumb lightly over my lips, his other hand finding its way to where band of my white shorts was and pushing me forward until the only space between us was between our lips. My heart raced, butterflies fluttering about wildly in my stomach, not out of nervousness. No, not even close.

It was excitement and passion.

It was.

It was love.

No other words needed to be said between us. The last kiss, the last tender . . . slightly noisier moment we shared that night said everything else.

It was a good thing the Izayoi family didn’t have neighbors.

It was even a better thing I put the housekey in my back pocket.

Because I would’ve dropped it.

 I watch as Crow drove to the main street, his D-Wheel disappearing from view. I unlock the door to the house, making my way towards my room again. It feels weird being here by myself after having been held, but . . . it’s a good kind of weird.  

I glance at my physics notebook. What had looked like confusing terms and formulas actually makes sense to me now. If I just went over it before the test the next day, I’ll be good to go. My friends are certainly going to appreciate it, since no doubt they’ll ask me for advice. To think just looking at it used to give me a headache. To think those were the only problems I thought needed solving. How quickly things can change, huh?

I stretch and start getting ready for bed. I put on my loose-fitting pink pajamas – a long sleeved shirt and shorts – and brush my teeth. I let my hair hang completely loose when my phone wildly buzzed. Three text messages: one from Papa, one from Yusei, and one from Crow.

Papa wants to make sure I was okay with being home alone for one more night and he and Mama are sorry they couldn’t be there for my birthday this year. On other years, I would’ve been incredibly bothered, but I don’t mind this time around. I tell him that. I didn’t tell him why, of course and for obvious reasons relating to why I was glad we didn’t have neighbors.

But, naturally, he’s curious as to why, since it’s the first time I’ve ever said that about them being gone. I’m hesitant to answer since Papa and Mama are both convinced somehow Yusei’s my future husband. But, I have to tell them sometime – just not over text. So, I reply, “It’s a lot for just a text. I’ll just tell you when you two get back.”  

Yusei texted saying he and Jack would be back in Japan momentarily. I stare at the text for a good moment, processing that this was the guy I used to be head over heels for. I respond back with a “see you soon!”, being grateful I’ve finally figured out how I feel about him. A load had been swiftly lifted from my shoulders.

Crow actually remembered somehow in that kissing-obsessed brain of his and let me know that he got home safe, but Bruno kept asking a lot of questions and that took some time. I laugh at that one. But, the second part of the text made me tear up a little. Okay, maybe slightly more than a little. Okay, actually a lot.  

“Make sure you get plenty of sleep, Aki. And good luck tomorrow! I love you!”

I wipe the tears from my eyes. As a child, I always wanted my life to be like a romance genre movie, if only I’d be happy for a day or two. I wanted someone to tell me they love me, to hold me close and say everything will be fine. That was it.

But, what just happened on my seventeenth birthday, awkward moments and breakdowns and all, was so much better than any romance movie. It’s the best present ever. And the best part was I’d be with him for more than two days. Replaying the evening’s events in my mind, I gently trace over my lips with my finger. They’ve been through a lot, especially without chapstick. In a good way.  

I’d still take fighting a worldwide threat over a physics test, but if I had to take the test instead, I wouldn’t mind it.

“I love you too, Crow.”