#also not to mention do you have ANY idea how good taylor would peg him. do you have ANY idea how good of a strap she'd give him

[yellowloid]

Alex and Taylor for you bestie 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

the louise one felt like getting punched in the face but the rest 🫶🫶 they 🫶🫶

[reddielibrary]

prompt: both work at the coffee shop and talk sometimes but that's enough to make each of them fall for each other. one day business is slow so richie and eddie get some coffee and have a mini date in their own job!! boom then they're rlly in love and they all live happily ever after - for anonymous

written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

read on AO3

“I’m sorry ma’am, the peppermint bark latte is a seasonal drink. We don’t serve it until December.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” The woman across the counter levelled an incredulous glare at Eddie, as if he had spit in her face instead of reporting something he thought to be very reasonable. “I drove all the way here and you don’t have it?”

“We don’t. It’s a holiday drink,” Eddie answered, clinging to the scripted explanations that usually worked on perfectly rational customers. Who the fuck wanted a hot mint chocolate coffee in the summer anyway?

This woman, however, was anything but rational. “Can’t you just grab some syrup from the back, or whatever the hell you use to make it? It’s not that hard to flavor a latte.”

“We don’t have what we use to flavor it, ma’am. Since it’s, y’know, June?”

“Don’t get fresh with me! I know what month it is!”

“Then you should know we don’t have any fuc-”

“Whoa there, amigo.” The edge in Eddie’s voice died off as his coworker sidled up next to him - as if there was any room in front of the POS for two. “That’s no way to talk to a customer as lovely as any other.” Smooth as you like, Richie took over, laying it on thick. “No worries, ma’am, we might not have peppermint bark, but I’ll tell you what we do have - mint, and mocha. I’ll whip you up a latte with both and you won’t even know the difference. We don’t have the peppermint flakes to sprinkle on top but I can do chocolate shavings. Whaddaya say?”

For a tense moment, they glared between the three of them, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly style. Eddie wasn’t sure where he and Richie fell but he was pretty damn certain this nuisance customer was decidedly the Ugly.

“I guess that’s fine,” she finally grumbled, leaving Eddie to wonder where that grudging acceptance had been when he was dishing out facts.

“Awesome! Eds here’ll ring you up for that. You want any whipped cream?”

“Just to melt into the latte? No thank you.”

The awful woman passed over a wad of bills and moved on to the pickup counter without even dropping her change in the tip jar. When no one came through the dinky door at the front of the shop, and no one to the register, Eddie took up the flimsy plastic sleeve of hot cups Richie had been using to stock up, before he swooped in to save the day.

“I could have handled that,” he mumbled next to Richie as he shoved cups into the rack, unable to use his normal volume with the Peppermint Bark Bitch within earshot.

“You could have,” Richie exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically, squirting equal parts mocha and mint into the steaming cup in his hand. “You would have cursed her out and it would have been glorious. I might weep hot tears of joy just thinking about it. But also, like, you probably would have gotten fired, which isn’t so glorious, ya know? ‘Specially since I’d be so lost without you.”

Richie winked, and topped the dumb latte off with a sprinkle of the aforementioned chocolate shavings, before passing it down to the pickup counter. Eddie stood there, hands planted on his hips, frowning - doing a very good impression of someone who didn’t get flustered at the mercy of one stupid wink.

With that awful woman on her merry stupid way, the rest of the shop appeared exceedingly empty. Four o’clock on a weekday in the summer wasn’t the most prolific hour for a small town coffee shop, with lunchtime passed and the morning rush long over - which meant all they could really do before their shift was over, was clean and restock until someone else came in.

When it came to maintenance, Eddie always worked faster than Richie, wiping down the machines and filling the cups and lids like a champ - while the dumb brunet spent ten minutes at a time with a rag in the pastry case. Depending on how long they had been there, he may or may not start whining too. Whatever the reason for Richie’s shitty cleaning ethic, though, he made up for it in spades with his customer service. How he got through the full five or six hours without throwing a piping hot cup of coffee in some asshole’s face, Eddie would never know.

“This is boring,” Richie huffed, already whining as he crossed his arms leaning over the counter, where the orange afternoon sun set all the muted browns in the wood and his hair and apron to sepia. “I dunno why mid shift has to do this. Night shift does a whole fucking sweep of the place and God knows only the truckers and drunks are gonna be in here then.”

“Maybe food service isn’t for you,” Eddie mentioned, just barely managing to keep the smile from curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re right.” The four-eyed brunet sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders (he didn’t), spinning to perch the other way, with his elbows balanced on the counter. His voice took on a soulful southern twang. “Mama always told me to get outta this one horse town. That I was born for the stage. That we’re all born superstars. She’d roll my hair, and put my lipstick on, in the glass of her boud-”

He got a face full of coffee-soaked rag, courtesy of Eddie. “Those are the lyrics to Born This Way!”

He didn’t realize he was staring until Richie transitioned entirely, hauling himself up to stand straight, for once.

“You don’t belong here either,” he mentioned, pointing a finger toward Eddie’s chest. “I’d peg you for a lawyer, but I’m not sure that mouth of yours would fly with the judge.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie retorted. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted, or where he wanted to be. Just that this job payed a little better than minimum wage, included tips, and would hopefully get him somewhere better, someday.

He could think of one thing he might want though, glancing sidelong at Richie, aimlessly tidying the display next to the counter. And he didn’t even have to pay for it at all.

“I can’t really think of anything else to straighten up,” Eddie admitted eventually, rubbing his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze trailed around the service area.

“You know what that means. Break time!” Spinning on the heels of his worn-out Chuck Taylors, Richie yanked a plastic cup from the stand - indication enough that he was going for his usual frozen favorite. “I’m making myself a drink.”

Suddenly, spurred by his presumption, an absurd idea came over Eddie. Without really thinking, he came forward and snatched the cup out of Richie’s hand, with all the gusto of someone following through with a concise course of action. This, however, was anything but.

“I know how you take yours,” he finally said, his mouth working at the same speed as his brain. “Bet I can make it perfectly.”

Richie blinked for a way too long second, long enough that Eddie’s blood started rushing with the weight of how stupid he was being. But finally, the idiot’s face took on a look of mock judgement, and he crossed his arms with put-upon petulance.

“Alright, Edspresso, do your worst.”

Calm again, and set to task, Eddie set the cup down on the prep counter and got to work. “A large caramel mocha frappe, no espresso,” he explained, narrating his actions with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he shovelled ice, milk and syrup into the blender. For a few seconds the tiny coffee shop filled with the buzz of the spinning blades, and Eddie remained silent until the noise settled, along with the thick concoction.

“Caramel drizzle around the cup,” he continued, demonstrating just so (with expert drizzling skill, if he did say so himself). He poured the frappe mixture into the cup, and darted away to grab the whipped cream can out of the ice bin. “Extra extra extra whipped cream, and to top it all off, caramel and chocolate drizzle.”

When all was said and done, with the dome lid capped over a mountain of whipped cream shooting out the hole in the middle, Eddie presented drink and straw to Richie, smiling rather smugly.

“In short, a diabetic coma waiting to happen.”

That familiar, toothy grin split onto Richie’s face, and he slow clapped for Eddie (a ridiculous gesture that definitely didn’t have him several sorts of secretly flattered).

“Well how ‘bout that.” The frappe passed from Eddie’s hands into Richie’s and he took a sip off the straw, indulging a few lip-smacks, wafting the cup under his nose as if it were wine. “Not bad, Eds, not bad. Your top drizzle is a little sloppy but I know the nozzle on the chocolate is fucked. Solid nine and a half.”

“Oh buzz off, Richie.” Eddie made to jab the idiot in the ribs but Richie was too fast, side-stepping with all the grace of a gangly newborn horse. The idiot then set his frozen confection on the counter, and plucked out another plastic cup.

“Now for you.” Winking again, Richie bopped the cup against Eddie’s nose, but was gone before the shorter brunet could protest - and the potential of Richie knowing how he took his coffee was just too great to resist, and so he clammed up.

“Medium iced hazelnut,” Richie began easily, with the tone and air of a proper English butler whilst shovelling ice and squirting flavoring. “Little less ice. Two sugars, two skim, two shots of espresso - which is probably why you’re so wound up all the time, but that’s none of my business.”

A sprinkle of sugar here and a spot of milk there and he filled the rest of the cup with coffee, gave it a good mix, and snapped a lid on before finally offering the drink to Eddie. “Short and sweet, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie mentioned, almost tightly as he took the coffee out of Richie’s hands, lips twitching as he fought yet another smile. Judging by Richie, who couldn’t resist a smile, he probably thought he had done a fantastic job. And to some extent, he had.

“But this is my morning order,” Eddie declared, closing his lips over the straw for a sip anyway.

Richie’s face fell. “What?!”

“Two espresso shots in the afternoon? Are you fucking nuts? My heart’ll give out.” Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed. “If I get iced coffee later in the day I ditch the espresso and go one skim. I might even get a small too.”

“Well that’s not my fault! Sorry I don’t know the inner workings of your complicated coffee regimen!”

“Shut up, you dumbass,” Eddie griped. Before his lips could stretch too much, he took another sip, effectively quelling any inclination to smile. No way he was going to let himself finish the entire caffeine-pumped drink, though. “Besides, you were technically right anyways.”

Richie seemed satisfied with that at least, taking a moment to lick off the whipped cream puffing out over his cup. Eddie watched him for a moment, out of the corner of his eye. Even if his coffee hadn’t been completely right, there was something sort of delightful, knowing Richie had noticed enough to get his usual order down like that. All those mornings on the way to class, when Richie was scheduled and Eddie wasn’t. Busy with the regulars, and still managing to remember all those details.

Eddie could only wonder if Richie remembered them for all the same reasons.

“Hey, can I try?” Richie asked all of a sudden. “I’ve never had hazelnut before.”

“I thought you didn’t like espres-” Without warning, Richie’s head loomed down and close, and just when Eddie thought he might steal a sip from the straw, he shifted forward instead, slotting their lips together.

Richie’s mouth was cold from his frappe, and his breath tasted like mocha more than it tasted like caramel. Eddie blinked for a few endless seconds, heat creeping up into his ears and cheeks, until his friend and coworker finally slipped away - still bent at eye-level.

“Well hey,” Richie murmured, voice low as his dark eyes glinted behind his thick glasses. “Hazelnut tastes pretty good.”

Eddie shoved his hand up into Richie’s face, heart pounding as the idiot yelped and stumbled back. They calmed down just in time for the bell to tinkle over the door, and work and routine resumed in the little coffee shop once again.

Tagging: @princesass-theresa @r-u-reddie @stellarbisexual 

[welllpthisishappening]

I’m a pretty big Pens fan. I’ve been kind of hardcore freaking out and flailing about because my team is probably going to ripped apart and hastily sewn back together over the summer, and they might be trading my favorite player, but I haven’t had time to process it until now because I’ve had finals and moving, but now it’s kind of hitting me. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do some sort of fluffy next gen thing from TOTBL? Your writing never fails to brighten my day so I figured I’d ask.

Hello, anon, you are lovely! Thanks for being patient on this one. And honestly for reading Blue Line, because, like...I am not nice to your team. I’m so glad you still enjoy it! I especially hope the Pens don’t trade your favorite player. That is a sports fate I would wish on no fan. 

So, you asked for fluff and this is a great, big pile of that. I think I’ve mentioned a few times that although Chris is not a huge athlete, he plays baseball in HS and one time, he pitches in the city championship game and Matt and Leo Nolan (who plays professional baseball) both skip their professional obligations to come see it. Time-wise, this is June 2046. Which sound like a fake year. But that makes Henry 41, Roland 36, Lizzie 29, Matt 27, Peggy 24, Chris 18, Leo 25 and! introducing Taylor Débleu who is Phillip and Aurora’s kid. He’s 22. 

“You’re late.”

Killian startled as soon as the words were out of Peggy’s mouth — seemingly talking to empty air until that empty air was no longer empty. It was being gulped down. By a clearly out of breath Matt.

Who was not supposed to be there.

There, of course, being Fordham University and a baseball field without seemingly any shade, a city final and unexpected start because Xavier had lost in the first round and there were loser’s brackets and you pitched your ace in a must-win, and they’d done that the day before, but that meant that Chris was going to start in a winner-take-all championship game and he’d been freaking out and—

Killian was also running out of oxygen.

“It took me forever to get here,” Matt grumbled, running a hand through hair that was starting to get a little damp. “And then they didn’t want to let the Uber guy on campus and he definitely came in the wrong entrance.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes. “How is that possible? Where did you come in?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Hey,” Killian snapped, and he’d probably blame years of experience and possibly the sun, but it was mostly just nerves because Chris was nervous and he really wasn’t all that great at playing baseball. He was better at it than hockey, though, and it had become a thing and now there was a championship on the line.

Or so he’d mumbled quietly the night before.

His ears had gone decidedly pink at the time, an incredibly telling tell that had made Killian’s eyes flicker towards Emma. Much like they were now. Her mouth was hanging open. Maybe that’s where all the oxygen was going.

Because Matt was not supposed to be there.

“Dad, listen, if you’re going to blame anyone for this, it’s totally Mar’s fault,” Matt started, ignoring Peggy’s objections and limbs. They were both making a considerable amount of noise. “She’s the one who texted me in the middle of the night and—“

‘—Ok, that is just patently untrue.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on ice somewhere, mini-Jones?” Ruby asked, leaning around Emma with a smile on her face and a likely melting chocolate chip cookie in her hand. “I distinctly remember an email.”

The phone in Robin’s hand made noise — laughter coming from Philadelphia and Killian could just make out the way Roland’s shoulders were shaking in the frame. There were far too many of them there, taking up more than a dozen seats with Xavier plastered across shirts and hats and Mary Margaret had baked far too many chocolate chip cookies.

Will was going to eat half of them before they even got to the fifth inning.

Killian hoped Chris was still pitching by then.

“You did text pretty late, Pegs,” Roland reasoned, as soon as he was able to speak without laughing. “Lizzie was super annoyed. It woke her up.”

Peggy slumped in her chair, letting the top of her head slam into Matt’s stomach. He hadn’t sat down yet. And he was going to draw more attention than all of them. Because Matt really, really, really was not supposed to be there. He was supposed to be on ice, in Tarrytown, fulfilling face-of-the-franchise obligations and instructing children who had paid a considerable amount of money to be there.

“You guys are all super lame,” Peggy sighed. “It wasn’t that late.”

“How late is not late?” Emma asked, tugging lightly on the back of Peggy’s shirt. “C’mon, babe, get off him. He looks like he’s going to die.”

Roland laughed again. “I think that means he’s in offseason shape.”

“Ok,” Matt groaned. “Thank you.”

“Did you walk across the whole campus to get here?”

“The guy got really confused by Fordham and Fordham Prep and—“ Matt waved both hands in the air, shaking his hair away from his eyes. Too long. Always too long. “Why are they playing here, though? Is that normal?”

“Fordham Prep doesn’t have a baseball field,” David explained. “This is it, kid. You should have worn a hat.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy hot over here, right?”

“We only go where we’re told to go,” Will said, one side of his mouth tugging up. “And you better sit down, Dr. J, you’re going to start attracting attention.”

Matt made a low noise in the back of his throat, but Will did bring up a pretty good point and—“Hey,” Killian said suddenly, Emma’s expression shifting because she was absolutely thinking the same thing. “Why exactly was Peggy texting you?”

Silence.

Well, relative. Matt was, after all, kind of late and he’d missed the first inning and there were bats swinging and balls landing in gloves because, apparently, this was the type of sport where they had to warm up between every single inning and Killian was still only a little confused by what actually counted as an error.

Particularly at the high school level.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you did he?” Emma asked.

Matt squeezed one eye shut. “That sounds like a rhetorical question.”

“It was, kind of.”

“He didn’t think MD would be able to show,” Peggy said, and Killian could hear the hitch in her voice, an overprotective streak that ran several miles and an entire college campus wide. “Because there was definitely an email about the camp thing and Toph knew that this was MD’s week to be up there and—well, he’s you know…”

“Oh, say it, Pegs,” Roland chuckled. Matt opened his eye again. So he could roll both of them.

Peggy stuck her tongue out. “MD is famous. It’s…well, everyone in Toph’s class knows him and it’s—“ She shrugged, eyes going a little glossy. Mary Margaret handed her a cookie. “Anyway, Toph told me that he knew Mom and Dad would be here and that meant everyone else, but he didn’t think MD or—“

The stands shook as soon as the latest set of footsteps came running towards them, more having chests and flushed cheeks and Mary Margaret nearly dropped the whole Tupperware container.

That definitely would have attracted attention.

And maybe they didn’t need to worry about Matt.

Leo Nolan was also decidedly out of breath, beads of sweat on his temple and far too much orange in his outfit, but Killian assumed that was an occupational hazard. “Are we late?” he huffed, dropping his hands to his knees.

“You’ve got to stand up, Le,” Roland shouted. “Otherwise you’re going to mess up your diaphragm or something.”

“God, that is not accurate at all,” Matt argued. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get here?”

Leo waved a hand in the air, nodding in the general direction of his parents and there were more footsteps coming, a kid clinging to Henry’s side and Taylor Débleu, Phillip and Aurora’s son who worked for a Fortune 500 downtown, was trying to keep his phone pressed to his ear at the same time he worked his tie loose.

“They have these things called planes, Matthew,” Henry drawled, flashing a grin at Robin and Regina and saluting slightly at Roland. “And frequent flier miles.”

Matt was going to give Emma a run for her money with the mouth-hanging-open thing. “He is supposed to be in Miami!”

“MD, you are really not doing a good job of hiding out here,” Peggy muttered.

“Seriously, Le, how did you get here?”

Leo grinned. “Was the plane quip not enough for you? Also Tay called in some favors after Peg texted us all in the middle of the night.”

“Oh my God, it was not the middle of the night,” Peggy screeched, but the sound quickly morphed into something closer to a cheer and an umpire calling strike three and no one looked more surprised by that than Chris. He blinked once, twice, three times, a soft chuckle where he was still standing on the mound, catching the ball with a backhanded move that would have put several of the nearby professional athletes to sham.

“Shit, look at that hand-eye coordination,” Will said, before adding quickly—“Do not yell at me for that, Cap. I don’t—“

“—No, no,” Killian shook his head. “That was insane.”

He could practically hear Ruby roll her eyes. “This is why he was never a very good quote. And you’re really avoiding the question, Leo. Your mom’s about to have a conniption.”

“Ok, that is also not accurate at all,” Mary Margaret objected, but she was already moving both hands cupping Leo’s cheeks in the same way they had since he could stand up. “How come you didn’t tell us? We could have picked you up.”

“Then what would Henry have to do?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s definitely all I had to do,” Henry groused. He dropped into the chair next to Peggy, letting Lucy crawl onto her lap with what was, very clearly, a handmade sign. “It’s not our best work,” he added, “but that was mostly because the Grand Central was a mess and then Leo’s plane almost got delayed and, you know, Tay’s not actually in charge of the FAA.”

“Also, to answer the question,” Leo added, slinging an arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulders, “today’s an off day anyway, we would have been traveling, but then Pegs texted us, said Chris was going to pitch today and I figured I’d get here a little early.”

“Except he’s not as good at booking flights as Taylor is.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Taylor said, stuffing his phone and his tie in his back pocket. “What inning is it, anyway? Peg’s awful at updating when she’s not on some kind of warpath.”

Killian blinked, Peggy’s lips all but disappearing behind her teeth. “Were you on some kind of warpath?”

She shook her head.

And every other kid, none of whom were really kids anymore, and some of whom had their own kids, very quickly and very loudly objected.

“War. Path,” Taylor repeated. “What time did the first text demanding our presences come?”

Peggy glared at him. “That is not correct English.”

“Yeah, well, luckily for you, you’ve got those fantastic athletic genes to fall back on and people who aren’t all that bothered by your middle of the night texts and—“

“—Except Lizzie,” Roland interrupted, mumbling something that sounded a lot like dad, seriously, you’ve got to hold the phone still.

“It’s because she’s got that case she’s starting next week,” Matt reasoned. “And the first text came at like one in the morning because it also woke up—“

He exhaled loudly as soon as he realized what he was about to say, eyes going impossibly wide as he tried to brush the hair away from his forehead again. It didn’t work. They were all going to get ridiculously sunburned.

“Hey,” Leo yelled, dragging the word out until it sounded like several different words and a few more announcements and maybe they should have gotten the PA announcer involved. Just to make things as absurd as possible.

The kid at the plate swung. And missed.

“Ok, ok, you guys need to—“ Matt started, but anything else he was about to say got drowned out by cheers and his head snapped around so quickly Killian’s hand moved on instinct. Like he was going to do something about it. Until that same hand flew into the air, another swing and miss and he didn’t know much about baseball, but he might have been googling things and he hoped no one else knew that.

Emma totally knew that.

She’d been asking David questions all season. And they still couldn’t figure out how to count something as an error at the high-school level.

“Did you see the movement on that?” Leo said. “Seriously! The kid didn’t even realize it. He’s got to keep throwing that, he’ll throw a perfect game.”

“Oh my God,” Taylor sighed. “You are a professional athlete. You know not to jinx things.”

“I’m not jinxing, I’m—ah, shit.”

Leo shook his head quickly, plastering a smile on his face and he’d been too loud. Or it was only a matter of time. Or something. Something negative and professional and the kids coming towards them all looked a little nervous.

With notebooks in their hands.

“Leo? Uh—uh, Mr. Nolan? Do you think we could get an autograph?”

Peggy snickered, burying her head into the curve of Henry’s shoulder, but this was what Chris had been worried about. He never really wanted the spotlight. He wanted to play a game he was, relatively, good at, without any hopes or expectations of anything more. And—

“Mattie,” Emma muttered lightly, the tip of her tongue pressing into the side of her cheek. “You better move behind Dad or something.”

Matt hummed in confusion, but Leo had finished signing autographs and brushed off requests for a selfie — I’m just here to watch the game, guys — and it only took Killian a moment to realize what Emma was looking at.

A small group of girls on the other side of the seats, all of them wearing their Xavier shirts, and one phone between them. They appeared to be on some kind of swivel-timer, glancing down at the screen, only to glance back up just as quickly, muttering and whispering and—

“Too good looking,” Roland mumbled, Matt glaring at the screen because he couldn’t do anything else. Not without attracting attention.

And stressing out his brother.

“Just stay as still as possible, MD,” Peggy grinned. “Bend your knees more, so Dad can block you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Bend your knees.”

“I can’t,” he hissed. “This is as good as it’s going to get in these jeans, Mar.”

That drew a whole new round of laughter, Matt’s head falling against Killian’s shoulder blade and it wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it was also pretty par for the course and that was the wrong sports joke. The last kid didn’t strike out. He grounded to third.

Matt appeared to be choking on oxygen. He was trying not to cheer.

“That’s good, right?” Lucy asked, curled against Peggy’s side with her sign already brandished.

Killian nodded. “Really good.”

“Good.”

And it kept being good. For five more innings. Until it was the seventh and Chris was still pitching, a three-run lead and maybe there just wasn’t any oxygen in the Bronx.

It felt that way.

“You’re stressing me out, Cap,” Will drawled, slumped in his chair with his legs hanging over the seat in front of them. They were all going to get called out on in the internet for this.

But Killian couldn’t remember the last time anyone on Chris’ team had pitched so many innings and Leo was definitely keeping track of the pitch count. That was probably another occupational hazard.

“Shut up, Scarlet,” Killian said. There wasn’t much insult to it though, because he was definitely kind of freaking out and for someone who had played in more high-pressure games than he’d like to remember, he was never very good at dealing with it when his kids were doing the same thing. “At least I’m not pacing.”

Will hummed in agreement, Emma waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she followed the same path she’d been going since the fifth. “How many is he at, Leo?”

“Not even a hundred, Em. I think they take him out once he gets there.”

“They do,” Peggy confirmed, only to be met by several sudden surprised expressions. “What? I know things. Toph and I talk. He’ll have to get through the inning quick.”

“Look at your jargon,” David said.

“Can we all focus, please?” Emma asked sharply, and Killian wasn’t sure who made what noise, him or Matt. “I will ground you, Matthew, I swear.”

Matt hummed, not sounding particularly threatened, but that was probably because he was going to get in enough trouble for blowing off camp without having to deal with his mother as well and—“Oh shit,” he whispered, ignoring Killian’s grunt when he used his shoulder for leverage. “Throw it, throw it, throw it.”

The kid he wasn’t really shouting at did, in fact, throw it, an only slightly off-target out at first that left a different kid with absurdly stretched out legs. “God,” Matt added, hooking his chin over Killian’s shoulder. “That can’t be comfortable at all. Le, is that comfortable?”

“I play in the outfield, Matthew.”

“And you need to direct your voice to somewhere that is not my ear,” Killian added, rolling his shoulder. Matt didn’t move. He hadn’t expected him to.

“Ok, ok, ok,” he continued, voice picking up. Emma stopped pacing. Because that voice was a voice, a voice neither one of them had heard in years, a voice that usually came with extra ice time when he was a kid or getting to tag along to Rangers practice, taking shots on an NHL net. That voice never happened unless there was hockey involved.

Until. Now, apparently.

Because Matt wasn’t supposed to be there and Leo wasn’t supposed to be there, but Peggy had sent out middle-of-the-night text messages and Henry had absolutely rearranged his schedule and Killian’s smile made the muscles in his face stretch to ridiculous proportions.

Not like that kid at first, but—well, he would never have been able to do that.

Killian didn’t try and roll his shoulder again, fluttering his fingers instead and pulling Emma against his side as soon as her touch grazed his skin. Matt was still talking.

“C’mon C, c’mon C, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

Matt flinched as soon as the bat hit the ball, but then that ball was in the air too and Leo might have been standing on his seat at this point. “Get your glove under it,” he shouted, waving both arms like he was directing the plan he’d come in on. “Clinch it, clinch it, clinch it!”

“Oh my God, you guys are the worst,” Peggy groused, but that kid listened too. Or, probably just knew how to play baseball.

Maybe he knew what an error was.

And they were down to their last out. Killian took a deep breath, a soft squeeze to his hand and a smile from Emma, the jut of Matt’s chin digging into his shoulder.

Chris took his hat off, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead and it was probably a testament to the competitive gene that was part and parcel of being a member of this family because he hadn’t really looked their direction until that very moment. His eyebrows jumped, lips parting with a pop that wasn’t actually audible, but sounded like several explosions in Killian’s brain.

His shoulders slumped, some of the tension almost visibly falling with them, and Killian could see the muscles in his throat shift slightly. One side of his mouth tugged up.

“Should we feel bad for the guy at the plate now?” David mused, Ruby making a noise that sounded a bit like an objection. She’d started stress-eating cookies in the sixth. “Because, uh—well, Chris has got that look.”

“What look?” Killian asked.

Robin threw his whole head back when he laughed. “Your look, Cap. And Matt too, if we’re being honest.”

It wasn’t really a compliment, but it wasn’t really an insult either and it was, admittedly, pretty goddamn accurate. Chris put his hat back on — and worked himself into a full count.

Killian could hear Emma’s teeth, the soft clack of them as she took an unsteady breath, using the hand that wasn’t still wrapped up in his to press against her cheek. Mary Margaret wasn’t watching. Roland kept shifting on the couch if the sound was any indication. And Will had gotten his phone out too, muted voices that were demanding updates he clearly wasn’t giving them.

Peggy was using Leo as leverage, his feet back on the ground, while she stood on her chair, both of them shouting suggestions and instructions and something that sounded like to the glove, throw it straight to the glove.

“Where else is he going to throw it?” Matt groused.

Chris threw it. Not quite perfect, possibly a little outside, but it was low-level high-school baseball and he’d been far too nervous, so, maybe not quite perfect was, actually, pretty goddamn perfect and he exhaled as soon as the ball landed in the catchers’ glove.

A swing and a miss. For the final out. And the city championship.

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand again.

And he was about to do something — a little paternal, a little proud, possibly kiss his wife and then tell his kid he loved him, but all of that got forgotten as soon as the words were screamed into his ear.

“Fuck yeah, C,” Matt yelled, jumping and flailing limbs and both he and Leo moved impossibly quick. Their hands slammed into the backstop, rattling metal and drawing the attention of, probably everyone on the Fordham campus. “Yes! Yes!”

Ruby slid down her chair. “Oh my God, this is going to be everywhere.”

“Ah, it’s not the worst thing we’ve done, Lucas,” Killian reasoned, arm moving around Emma’s middle and he did, finally, kiss her temple.

“If that’s our marker, we’ve got to reexamine some things.”

He chuckled, Emma shaking slightly against his side and Chris was nowhere to be seen, likely in the middle of the pile of celebrating kids in the infield, hats forgotten and gloves strewn across meticulously and incredibly well-watered grass. And it only took a few moments — but Killian wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the concept of winning, particularly when his kids were involved and then there was more shouting and cleats on the stands and both Matt and Leo moved again.

Chris slammed into them both in equal measure, a knot of limbs and words — did you see that pitch and how’s your arm feel and I didn’t think you’d be here.

It was the last one that did it.

Matt pulled back slowly, staring at Chris with something that looked torn between disbelief and just—well, disbelief. He punched his shoulder. Of course. “Wouldn’t have missed it,” he said, and Chris’ arms flew around his middle, hugging tight while several different camera shutters, some of which belonged to phones that weren’t theirs, went off.

[cicinicole-14]

14x19–– Beautiful Dreamer [episode review]

can we talk about Grey’s here for a second? I’m gonna review this episode because it’s been a really great episode. I think one of the best we’ve seen in a long time. so lets start off with saying this: I am sorry for how unorganized and choppy this is going to be, I’m apologizing in advance but my brain is going a million miles an hour. ALSO. WARNING::: SPOILERS AHEAD!!! 🚨🚨

first off–– Richard and Ollie

this was so, so sad. this gave me Amelia and Michelle, on PP, parallel feels, how Ollie is much like Amelia’s best friend Michelle and Amelia and Richard both watched their friend die a slow death. I really think and hope this is going to bring Amelia and Richard closer as friends and support systems. this storyline (Richard and Ollie) was very real, heartbreaking and sad. I really liked it even though it was rough.

Arizona

two things here, first; Carina. I just. I don’t like her. it’s half “she’s never going to be callie” and half idk I just don’t like her character. she’s useless and just no. I really don’t like her. and I would really like for her to go back to Italy. like Arizona said, her study there is almost up… also, the comment at the beginning of the ep “I have no kids, thank god” like okay, I get that people don’t always like kids but coming from Arizona, someone who broke up with her girlfriend over children, this just made my heart swell. like carina you don’t say that to the person you’re with if they fucking have kids. thats like almost as close as basic human decency as we get here…and second; Arizona’s idea of the crash cart thing, that was amazing. seriously. “treat every delivery as a trauma” I can’t clap loud enough. this is amazing. I’m so glad she figured something out and she can stop stressing just a little bit. take a breather babes, you’re awesome, you’re a rockstar. [also, another note; I really am dreading JCap leaving and this is sad af, because we only have like what 3 episodes remaining?]

Bello and Deluca

I actually have a lot to say about this and this is where its going to get very unorganized. I love that they’re incorporating real life like this, fucking neurosurgeons in the making, who have been living here their whole lives, facing deportation to a country they don’t know just because of our terrible choice in leaders. I can talk a while about this but I’m not going to. I thoroughly enjoyed Bailey stalling the ICE agent [we will address this later] and how literally the whole hospital was banning together to help Bello out. I genuinely like her and I’m really sad to see her leaving. I loved all the scenarios of running, getting married, Jo telling her how to fake her death with a guy in New York, I actually laughed so hard. like this was so great. this whole storyline. and then when amelia asks Owen to call Megan to help out because her “favorite intern” is going to get deported for rUNNING A FUCKING RED LIGHT. A RED LIGHT PEOPLE. we can’t even put rapists in jail, and you’re exiling an innocent fucking surgeon to a country they spent barely a year in when they were born, because she ran a red fucking light? okay moving on, coco. I loved that amelia said that, it was really cute. and like then Meredith using one of Maggie’s old papers [im assuming] and telling her Sam got accepted in Zurich and is working with Cristina. that was actually so sweet and I can’t. and then poor Andrew. I really loved them as a couple. they are really sweet and I wish we got to know more about their story, but sadly we won’t since Bello left. their goodbye was so adorable and bitter sweet. I hope she comes back one day or Deluca leaves to go be with her, he deserves happiness and an actual storyline like this because Giancomo is kinda getting screwed with Deluca’s character here.

Jaggie…

as @jordan202​ said last week, “jaggie is gaggie” and literally, yes. I was really excited to see Maggie ignoring him, because Jackson can be kinda dickish and like he should’ve told her April kissed him. if you want a relationship to work, be honest. and Jackson should’ve told her from the beginning. now to be honest with you, I skipped every jaggie scene, and caught the little bit at the end. I did want to point out, while I do not support Jaggie at all whatsoever, I find it very sweet Maggie showed up and made the speech and stood up for herself about not telling her because she said Jackson didn’t think he could handle it. go Maggie. and then I gagged again and skipped the scene that followed that… gross.

the interns

okay I love love loveeeee seeing Jo be the chief resident [I mean not like there can be any other chief resident because lets see, mousey died, Stephanie left, ben became a firefighter and where the fuck did Leah disappear to?] anyway, I love seeing Jo be the chief res and then bringing the interns around for rounds and no one letting them into rooms for rounds, that was actually quite funny.

Matthew and Ruby

okay, so I feel bad for Arizona because this was her case, but I empathize with Matthew, and he’s hurting and this is a lot. and I’m glad Owen could be put on this case, tho really fucking weird since he worked as a trauma surgeon in the army I didn’t peg him for a peds stand in, but I know this was just a little veer in his path for his storyline [which we will talk about as well] and I’m really grateful for April here. I know that everyone kinda looked weird at her for leering around Matthew and yeah I get it its weird, but her mother’s intuition was calling, and hey, guess what, it was fucking right. I’m really glad she was able to help and the end scene with her and Matthew was really sweet. it was full circle for them and I really enjoyed that.

lets go with the ICE agent next, and Bailey.

so I thoroughly enjoy that Bailey was at first just trying to stall him as long as possible. great tactic. and then her instincts kicked in and she pretty much saved this man’s life. I think that was really cool. and the scene with Maggie telling Bailey that she’d run all the tests, and then Bailey actually being serious about it. this was really nice. Bailey was being sincere to this man, she was serious because this guy, who is trying to take her intern, she could’ve easily just ignored his symptoms. but she didn’t and telling him, jfc that was great. “I swear to god this isn’t a joke” or whatever. bailey’s being serious, might I even say as serious as a heart attack… [okay, okay, I know, terrible joke I am sorry] anyway, this was really sweet that even though she deemed him as the enemy, she stilled helped save his life because its her job, just like, while he hates it, being an ICE agent is his job.

um what’s next? ou, Catherine.

can I start out saying I’ve never liked her? she’s always fucking shady and untrusting. seriously. and first off, do not go blaming your fucking son for this issue with the neurosurgeon lady. this is your fault. your “oh its nothing” thing with harper Avery and this lady. well yeah, we’re gonna think its nothing if you say it like that, of course Jackson won’t think anything of it and try and fucking fix things, there’s a child’s life at stake. if you weren’t such a shady bitch and were honest with Jackson, y’all won’t be getting into this mess, whatever the fuck it may be. ugh I do not like Catherine at all. Richard deserves better.

um, who else… Owen okay Owen.

so, I am still logically confused why Owen was placed on ruby Taylor’s case… like I mentioned before, he’s trauma not peds, but whatever, I guess if a hospital can have a bomb, shooting, 2 plane crashes, a fire and a billion other things happen, I guess a trauma surgeon can double as a peds one for a day. now, onto why. I’m really actually genuinely excited for Owen to take this step into singlehood and hopefully soon-to-be single fatherhood. I’ve been saying this forever, but give the man a child. he’s very similar to Alex in a way, he doesn’t act very decent with other adults, but in front of children, he’s an angel and its what he really needs. I can’t wait to see what comes of this storyline!

KIMMIE!

okay, wow! this breaks my heart. part of me is like “yes! go to NYC, go sing on broadway, explore the world while you still have the chance” and the other half of me just screams “stay strong just a little longer and stay at GSM for Alex and amelia to fix you, because I know they can”. Alex and kimmie’s dynamic is so sweet and their relationship just kinda melts me [and jo, but we will talk about that next!] I really hope this isnt the end of kimmie’s story. I hope she’s not going to just leave. side note: where did Tom go? is he back in New York? did he go back and I forget? anyway, whatever.

last but not least, the best, jolex.

okay, we got literally the sweetest scene I’ve ever fucking seen. I think I like this more than the proposal. actually, this and the 9x24 “I love you” scene are tied for first because ofc, that was my fave but also this one was. Jo telling Alex that she wants kids with him and wants to wedding plan and get married at joe’s bar and soon and ugh I cannot. and then her telling him she wants his last name because “I’ve never had the last name of anyone who’s loved me before” okay get out. bye. I’m dead. spoiler alert: I’ve been typing this from beyond the grave. this scene fucking melted me into a pile of goo. I cannot. bye!

bonus! 14x20 promo! 

I AM FUCKING DEAD. I CANNOT WAIT FOR THIS EPISODE. ABSOLUTELY CANNOT FUCKING WAIT. this looks so goddamn fucking hilarious I literally almost started crying. first of all, Arizona being the innocent lil bean to unknowingly give everyone pot cookies, I’m in tears. then, Alex wearing the fucking whatever that was on his head and “oh yeah, it was so good” pissing myself. also, fuck, was that deluca hugging a bush?!? and Bailey professing her love to Meredith. I can’t I can’t. seriously, I have high expectations for this episode, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

end note: no gifs are mine and I’m sorry for not crediting artists, I just pulled these off google. thank you for letting me borrow your work.

[midsummervixen]

Hideaway, Chapter 3

Here you are my lovelies!  Chapter 1

Chapter 2  The next chapter is already completed. I plan on posting it Wed. But if I get lots of love in form of Loves, reblogs and Anons, I might feel inclined to post it sooner. ;) 

I was laying out on my blanket under my normal tree waiting for Harry to join me. We decided to meet today at “our” beach, as he called it, to start picking adventures together. I don’t know why I trusted Harry so quickly but there was just something about him. He knew who I was and was a fan of my books but didn’t act any different around me. It was as if he was completely unfazed by me. It was a rare thing these days and I was enjoying it. Not to mention that he was very easy on the eyes. I’m not looking for any sort of romantic involvement but it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the view.

I had my headphones in and my iPad out in front of me. I was humming along to some Taylor Swift, my guilty pleasure, as I brainstormed yet again. Harry plopped down next to me and scared me. I let out a yelp and jumped, pulling out my headphones.

“Harry! You startled me!” I squeaked. He chuckled and dropped his bag next to us.

“Well, if you weren't so involved in your Taylor Swift you would have heard me greet you as I was walking up.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture I was quickly learning to be a bit of a nervous habit of his. I wondered what he was nervous about. He was the one who had suggested this meeting.

“You knew what I was listening to Swift just by my humming a few lines?” I asked, wondering if he was a big fan of her’s too. He started to turn red. I grinned, realizing I had embarrassed him. “Oh my gosh. Harry. Don’t tell me you are a secret fan.” I giggled.

“I’m just particularly aware of that song and a few others as well.” He mumbled. I cocked my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Why are you so, as you put it, ‘particularly aware’, of that song, Harry.” I teased when he failed to say more. I could tell this was getting a rise out of him and I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. He let out a deep sigh and rubbed his forehead before meeting my eyes.

“Liv, I’ve been…there is something…” He stuttered. “Liv I need to tell you something. You might get mad at me but I need to tell you before we start our adventures together.” He rushed out.

“What is it Harry? What could possibly make me mad? I’ve only known you a few days.” I was concerned. I knew I trusted him too easily. The possibilities quickly danced through my mind. Was he paparazzi, befriending me for the inside story? Maybe that's why he wasn’t fazed by me. He approached me first. He suggested hanging out again. Was I suckered into this? But is that was it, then why would he confess now when he was just starting to get closer to me? I gazed at him, waiting for him to explain further and save me from my negative thoughts. “It's just… I know those songs, Taylor’s songs, really well because quite a few of them were written about me.” He said in one big breath. I just sat staring at him, my jaw slightly hanging open. Now I was starting to question his sanity. Oh My God. What if he was a crazy stalker and he stalked Swift and really believed that she wrote a bunch of her songs about him and now he was stalking me. Did he somehow track me down here? What did I get myself into?

“So, what? You are saying is that you dated Taylor Swift and she wrote a bunch of songs about you?” He nodded. “I… Harry, I don’t understand. I don’t really follow celebrity gossip but I’m pretty sure I’ve only ever seen Taylor linked to other celebrities.” I am confused and growing more concerned.

“That's exactly it, Liv. I am, for lack of a better word, famous. Although I’ve always hated that term, I don’t know how else to put it for understanding’s  sake.” He almost whispered. Wait… What? My thoughts halted as I studied his face. I didn’t recognize him. His face was not familiar to me beyond the guy I met a few short weeks ago at the coffee shop.  I mean, yeah, I listen to mostly old rock and stuff, but I keep up enough with the modern music and I’m a pretty big movie buff and I’ve never seen him in anything before. Who was this curly haired boy?

“I don’t understand?” I rasp.

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the ground. After taking another deep breath, he met my eyes.

“I didn’t say anything right away because I wasn’t sure if you recognized who I was or not.  I didn’t want to sound pompous and ask if you knew who I was. Not to sound egotistical, but it's rare these days that I go unrecognized. When I saw you at the farmer’s market and you had to clarify my name, I knew you didn’t know who I was. It was such a nice moment, and I didn’t know how to bring up, so I didn’t. But it isn’t fair to you not to be fully honest with you. Somehow we both wanted to get away from Hollywood and wound up on the same beach.” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry… I’m still not really grasping this. What do you do? who are you? Your name is Harry right?”  I wasn’t even sure if he had given me his real name.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Harry. Harry Styles. I sing in a band called One Direction. Or sang in, as it were. We are on an extended, maybe indefinite, break at the moment.” He clarified. One Direction… That name sounded familiar. I think I remember my little sister like them and had a poster on her wall. Styles also sounded familiar. If this is true, then, Holy.Shit. He dated Taylor Swift? Wow. I processed all this for a few moments before looking up at him. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead was furrowed. I could tell he was worried I was taking this badly.

“I am processing this. But you being a singer is better then the crazy stalker ideas that shot through my head when you first mentioned Taylor’s songs being written about you.” I laughed. Harry relaxed a little when I laughed and chuckled a little along with me. “So the snap backs and the big glasses you are always wearing? It's your disguise?” I ask. He nods. “Well I guess it worked because I have no idea who you are.” I laughed. “Not that I probably would have anyway.” He grinned widely at my words.

“I have to admit, this is a weird situation for me to be in. I can’t remember the last time I recognized someone and geeked out a bit over their work and not been recognized myself.” He confessed.

“Did I knock your ego down a few pegs, Harry?” I teased. I found it fun to poke at him a little bit. He was easy to fluster.

“Shush you. It's actually a breath of fresh air. I like it.” He rubbed his hand along his neck once more. “So, you’re really not angry at me for not telling you?” He asked.

“Of course not, Harry. Honestly, if you had just befriended me and not recognized me, I would have never told you who I was.” I pulled my iPad out and typed “Harry Styles” in the search bar.

“Wait, you’re googling me?” He yelped. “What are you doing that for?” He peered over my shoulder at the results.

“Well, since I have absolutely know idea what this Harry Styles bloak looks like I’ve just got to make sure you’re not yanking my chain.” I joke. But my words soon fade and disappear as my browser is suddenly filled with dozens of news articles, pictures and links. Wow. He is like Really Really famous. All the pictures are of him in various ages. From the looks of it, he started out really young.

I quickly close the browsing window and clear my throat. “Congratulations Harry, you are, in fact, who you say you are. I’m thoroughly impressed.” He laughs a little at that and lays back on the blanket. “So you and Swifty, huh?” At this, he busts up laughing and shakes his head.

“Don’t even go there.” He snickers. I lay next to him and giggle as well. I can’t help but think us meeting was meant to be.

“So, you asked before, so now it’s my turn. Why Kauai?” He takes a deep breath and sits quietly for a few moments.

“I really wanted to disappear for awhile. I spent holidays down in St Barts but the trip wasn’t what I expected. Kauai is quiet. I needed a break from the public eye. I can hide here for a while. I needed a hideaway, I guess.” He explains. I just quietly nod, completely understanding him. The paps were what drove me away from LA. I was glad we both found this little slice of heaven that seemed to be completely free of them.

“I needed a hideaway too. Kauai is a great escape.” I breathed.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were hiding too.” Harry whispered. “You changed your hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture or interview of yours that you are not accompanied by your hot pink hair.” He reached up and ran one finger through my dark brown mane. He was right. I have been dying my hair an ombre pink for years.

“The point of coming here was to blend in. So, I called my hairdresser and had a good cry with him as we chopped nearly 12 inches of pink off and dyed the rest back to my natural dark brown. It’s weird to not have the pink anymore, but I guess it was time to grow up.” I ran my hand through my shoulder length brown hair. It was such a change from the vibrant pink that I have been sporting, but for some reason this felt like the right change.

“I like the brown. It suits you, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss seeing the pink.” He winked at me. “Do you think you will go back to the pink once you are done hiding out?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. Probably. I loved the pink and I miss it a lot. But I think I like this length a bit more. It's more manageable, I guess.” I started to giggle. “You are just full of surprised, Mr. Styles. Here we are, laying on the most beautiful beach in the world, if you ask my opinion, and we are discussing hair.” I chuckled.  

Silence seeps between us. I find myself really struck with the fact that he told me who he was without any hesitation, but I was hiding behind my pen name still. To be fair, very few people knew my real name. Outside of my family and a few close friends from growing up, no one knew my real name. I have been Liv Constantine for so long that I often forget about the other side of me. Harry takes notice of my furrowed eyebrows.

“You’ve gone quiet on me.” He murmured, poking my cheek.

“It’s Olivia.” I all but whispered.

“What?” Harry asks. He rolled on his side and propped his head up on his elbow facing me.

“My name is Olivia Costantini. Not Liv Constantine. That’s a pen name.” I admit. “Although, sometimes I feel like Liv has taken over and Olivia is nowhere to be found.” I sighed. “Almost no one in my everyday life knows my real name.” I paused and fought back tears I didn’t know I had. “That’s really sad isn’t it. All these people I call friends and co-workers. Hell, even my ex-boyfriend. They don’t really know me at all. They don’t even know something as simple as my real name.” I spilled out.

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to respond. I don’t know what made me speak so openly with him. I don’t know him, not really, anyway, but here I am spilling my heart out to him about things I didn’t even realize were bothering me.

“Olivia.” Harry said softly.

I felt a tear slip out. I moved my hand to wipe it away but felt a soft touch gently wipe across my cheek before I could. I opened my eyes and met Harry’s piercing green ones.

“I’m so thankful you deemed me worthy to know something about you so few people do.” He spoke softly.

“I want to just be Olivia here. I’m leaving Liv in LA for a while.” I said softly.

“Well, Harry Styles is definitely my real name, not a stage name. I got blessed with damn cool name.” Harry joked. I laughed and pushed his shoulder until he fell back onto his back.

I grabbed my tablet and pulled up Youtube and typed in One Direction into the search bar.

“What are you doing now?” he huffed, trying to steal my tablet away.

“It's only fair, Harry. You are intimately aware of my work and I don’t know yours at all.” I insisted, pulling the tablet back. “But to be fair, I will let you pick what video I watch.” I turn the screen towards him. He pinched his bottom lip between his finger and thumb as we scanned through the listed videos together. After a few minutes of debating, he pulled up a group of videos.

“I want something you wrote, Harry.” I said. He nodded and selected a video titled “Perfect the London Session”. We  shared my headphones as we watched. He was acting nervous. I wondered what it would be like to lay next to someone as they read my books for the first time. Fairly unnerving, I imagine.

The song ended and I was very impressed with his raspy voice. It was deep and rich. I found myself wishing he had more solos throughout the song. As the video ended, the next one started, “Drag Me Down, London Session”. Harry started to sit up, but I insisted on watching. “You got three books out of me, Mister, I get three songs.” He just shook his head and laid back down. Harry started this song started and had more lines to himself. It was even better than perfect. As the song came to an end, he started to belt out some crazy notes. I felt my eyebrows shoot practically to my hairline. He was damn good. Way better than I expected. The song ended and i cleared my throat and looked over at Harry. His cheeks were tinted pink.

“This is a little embarrassing.” He mumbled. I just grinned at him.

“Harry! You’re like, really good.” I exclaimed. He just chuckled. “I mean, I know you are a world famous singer, but… I don’t know what my point is other than I’m completely impressed and I’m going to make it my mission to get you to sing as often as possible on our adventures.” I rambled. He laughed and picked a different video then the cued one as my last song.

“This one is one of my favorites on our last album.” He said softly, laying his arm back down and letting me listen to Infinity. It was just as amazing as the other two. Harry had some big vocals in this one as well. I just shook my head and couldn’t stop grinning. I can’t believe I didn’t listen to them before. They were really good.

“So, now that you know all about me…” Harry trailed off.

“There is no way I could know all about you from three songs, Harry.” I replied.

“Yeah, I mean, like, who I am.” He stumbled over his words a bit. “Anyway. What adventure did you want to do first?” He changed the subject so well that I decided to let him for now.

“I was thinking we could do this hike in the Waimea Canyon. Its suppose to be tough but you end up on top of a waterfall at the end. It looks amazing.” I pulled up a few hiking guides with pictures and reviews. We soon lost any awkwardness that had snuck up between us and fell into easy conversation about our first outing together