#and GA is gonna move on from that breakup in the blink of an eye

[sapphicbuddies]

I cannot believe bummy shippers actually believe the show will be worse off now that lou isn't there anymore. you mean the show with ANGELA BASSETT and PETER KRAUSE??? that show? the one with a beloved main cast of 8 seasons? THAT ONE? I fear we are witnessing mass psychosis here bc wtf

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Chapter 1

Rowaelin Fake Dating High School Au

A/N: This is going to be told through Aelin and Rowan’s POV’s but will also feature other characters. 

masterlist

Aelin Galathynius had never been this pissed off in her entire life. 

“I need to focus on myself.” 

“You can be a lot to handle sometimes.” 

If Aelin hadn't been so shellshocked she most definitely would've slapped that grimace off his ruggedly handsome face. Chaol Westfall and her had been dating for as long as Aelin could remember. Grade six graduation, he was there. Grade eight dance marathon, him again. First day of high school, Chaol. Junior prom night, guess fucking who. 

Now, she was barely a week into senior year and everything was already going to shit. It’s not that she was completely torn up about the breakup - she wasn't - it was more about her pride. Aelin’s bitchy side could not believe that she hadn't been the one to dump him first. They’d barely spoken to each other all summer long. Aelin had been lifeguarding at a pool on the south side of town and Chaol had been a camp counsellor on the north. Still, their friend groups crossed over in every way possible. Aelin was the head cheerleader, leader of about every committee you could think of, and as Aedion liked to call her, “Queen of Terrasen High”. Chaol was, you guessed it, the football team captain and starting quarter back. They were the textbook couple in every way possible. Still, despite the cheerleaders and football players hanging out nearly every night, Chaol and Aelin had barely talked. It had been that way since their huge fight on the last day of junior year. They’d claimed to forgive each other, but never really had. They’d both said some really fucked up shit. Still, Aelin couldn't bring herself to be completely regretful of what she’d said to him. 

“This is a good thing A.” Her best friend Lysandra was saying beside her. “You’re way hotter than him anyway.” 

Snapping back to attention, Aelin smiled. “I am aren't I.” She laughed. 

“Hell yes.” Lysandra assured her. “He was never in your league.” 

Aelin laughed and threw her arm over her best friends shoulders. School was out for the day and they were heading out to meet Aedion for a drive home. Ignoring the faint anger in her gut, Aelin had to admit she felt more free. She hadn't been single since the sixth grade - save the small break her and Chaol had taken in 10th year. Aelin didn't like to ponder too much on that time in her life. 

A blast of warm air hit her as they pushed open the heavy doors to the school. Aedion’s face broke into a wide grin as he spotted them. As soon as her and Lysandra reached him he pulled her into a bear hug. “Welcome to the world of miserable and lonely single people. You’re gonna love it.” He messed with her hair and she groaned for him to put her down. 

“How the hell do you know already?” She asked.

“Oh my sweet naive cousin. Everyone knows.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“Everyone?” Aelin said, a hint of desperation in her tone.

“Everyone.” Aedion echoed. “It’s the biggest news to hit the school since, well, you and Chaol took break.”

Aelin swore under her breath. “Can’t people focus on their own lives for once.” 

Lysandra laughed softly. “We need to find you a rebound.” She said, bouncing on her toes. “I finally get the chance to be my best friends wingman.” 

“I don't want a rebound.” Aelin said frowning. 

“Would you rather Chaol find one first. He broke up with you, you’re already losing.” 

Damn Lysandra. She knew that Aelin was probably the most competitive person alive and could literally never shy away from a fight. 

“Fine. Who?” She swung open the door to Aedion’s car and climbed in the back.

Lysandra clapped her hands together and joined her in the back. “How about Fenrys Moonbeam?” 

Aelin shook her head back and forth. “No way.”

“Why?” Aedion asked. “He’s unfairly attractive.” 

“You date him then.” Aelin shot back. 

“Maybe I will.” He smiled wickedly at her in the rearview mirror and pulled out of the parking lot. 

“How about Sam Cortland.” Lys suggested. 

For a moment Aelin considered it. Despite being a year younger than her, Sam was extremely cute. His messy brown hair and constant smile didn't hurt matters. 

“Too nice.” Aelin insisted. “I’ll feel too bad about using him.” 

Lysandra had just begun naming someone else when their car slammed into something else. Aelin’s body lurched forward uncontrollably, head slamming into the seat in front of her. 

“Fuck!” Aedion swore. “Fucking hell!”

Aelin didn't even have time to revel in the fact that Aedion had actually cursed. Instead, she surveyed her body to make sure she was alright. Lysandra appeared to be doing the same and they both exchanged weak smiles of comfort. All three of them slowly got out of the car to see who exactly they had run into. 

Aelin was stilling rubbing at her temples when a voice sent a chill down her spine. 

“Are you fucking kidding me Ashryver?” He said. 

Heart racing, Aelin lifted her head slowly and met the anger filled green eyes of Rowan Whitethorn. He looked absolutely flawless in his leather jacket and white tee. His too tight jeans were ripped around the knees and cuffed just above his black combat boots. Rowan’s silver hair was messy and unkept and his tattoo was just as beautiful as ever. The vibrant green of his eyes never failed to take her off guard. Eyes that were now staring directly at her. 

He blinked twice, the only reaction he would show, and went back to yelling at her cousin. 

“I’m sorry man.” Aedion was saying in the background. “I didn't see you.” 

“It’s not his fault.” Lysandra jumped in. “We were all distracted.” 

“Let me guess.” He snarled back, tone as pissed off as ever. “Discussing the recent breakup.” Rowan was looking at Aelin now, waiting for a response. 

“Something like that.” She mumbled, not looking directly at him. 

“Didn't hear that princess.” He said loudly.

“Fuck off Rowan.” Aedion yelled, subtly stepping between them. “It was accident, send me the bill for your bumper. We’re going now.” 

“Whatever.” Rowan didn’t look at her once. He only got back in his dented black car, flipped Aedion off, and hit the gas. 

“Come on A.” Lysandra said softly, wrapping an arm around Aelin’s trembling form. She pulled her gently back toward their car. Aelin could feel Aedion’s gaze on her, yet for some reason she couldn't bring herself to care. 

After a few more minutes of silent and awkward driving, Aelin couldn't bear it anymore. 

“I’m fine guys.” She said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Please stop looking at me like I'm a time bomb.” 

Lysandra laughed and smiled. “Whatever you say A.” Aelin had never been this grateful for her best friend. 

“How about Rowan.” Lysandra continued. Every thought left Aelin’s head and she jolted upwards in her seat. 

“Are you insane? Are you literally fucking mental. I would get burned alive then have a conversation with him.” Aelin was practically yelling now. 

Lysandra only shrugged. “What’s the one thing that hurts more than sleeping with the best friend?” She asked Aedion. 

“Sleeping with the guy you told him not to worry about.” Her cousin recited, smirking in the rearview mirror. 

“Absolutely not. No way in hell.” She paused. “Besides, he wouldn't even give me the time of day.”

Lys squealed. “So you’re considering it.”

“No.” Aelin murmured, ignoring her friend’s pointed glares. 

“Alright.” Lysandra finally relented. “Just think on it.” 

“Fine.” Aelin nodded, and went back to staring at nothing through the car window. 

                                                     ~~~~~~~~

“Lorcan!” Rowan yelled out. “Where are you guys?” 

“Out back.” Came the booming yell of Lorcan Salvaterre. 

Sighing, Rowan put his coat back on and walked through the house to the back door. Only, Fenrys greeted him, patting him on the back and moving over on the couch. “How was your day?” His friend asked. 

“Horrible.” Rowan admitted. 

Fenrys stuck out his bottom lip. “How come?” 

“I talked to Aelin Galathynius.” 

The rest of the group instantly stopped whatever conversations they’d been having and whirled towards him. Fenrys’ eyes were blown wide open as he struggled to find the words. 

“Explain.” Lorcan said at last, falling back in his chair. Vaughn and Gavriel were staring at him cautiously, as if he might have another breakdown.  “Her cousin hit my car.” He grumbled. 

“The first time you speak to Aelin in nearly two years is because you crashed into her car” Vaughn reiterates. 

Rowan only nods. Fenrys, bless him, somehow restrains from laughing. 

“So do tell.” Gavriel gestures for Rowan to go into more detail. 

“I made some comment about the breakup, she refused to look at me, I basically mocked and condescended her, and then Aedion told me to fuck off and I left.” He reached down into the cooler for a drink. 

“Um wow.” Lorcan sighed. “Nice going asshole.” 

Rowan just held his beer out in salute and took a long drink. He was more than ready to forget about the whole day and move on. Unfortunately, his friends seemed less inclined for his plan. 

“The news of their breakup is all over the school.” Fenrys told them. He had always been their number one source of gossip, considering the rest of them despised most social interaction. “Guys are already placing bets on who can sleep with her first. Cairn bet Nox 1000$ he can nail her by Dorian’s party this Friday.” 

Rowan tried and failed to ignore the tightening in his chest. 

“Will she even go to that?” Gavriel posed. “Dorian is Chaol’s best friend anyway.”

“She’ll be there.” Rowan blurted before he could take it back.

All eyes again flipped to him. “Why don’t you make a move Rowan?” Lorcan asked, a smirk etched onto his lips. 

“Fuck off Salvaterre. I hate the bitch.” Rowan snarled. 

“You didn't seem to hate her so much when - “ Fenrys began. 

Rowan was already up and moving before he could hear the end of the sentence. He ignored their calls of apology and to come back, instead getting into his car and pulling out. At last, he pulled into the parking space in front of his aunt’s house and leaned his head against the car window. 

It had barely been a week and his senior year was already shaping up to be a fucking mess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throne of Glass Tag List 

message me, leave an ask, or comment to be added

@queen-of-glass

@courtofjurdan

@fictional-horan

@bamchickawowow

@julemmaes

[castielific]

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story. 

Summary: 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day. 

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone. 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…". 

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

You can read the rest on AO3

[moldisgoodforyou]

i’ll be waiting (part one)

disclaimer: this would never actually happen and is NOT canon to my lil charlie & jj verse that I’ve created. but I needed to get it out of my system. 

part two here!

warning: cursing, breakups

wordcount: 1.6k

____

She was supposed to be enjoying her vacation, but instead she was doing anything but. Three million thoughts raced through Charlie’s mind as she sat out on the porch of her family’s rental house in Savannah, staring out on the beach. It was supposed to be one last vacation with the Walker family all together before she moved all the way across the country to work in Berkeley, California. 

“What’s going on, Charlotte? You’ve been spaced out all week. We’re supposed to be celebrating your graduation.” Her dad interrupted her thoughts as he stepped out of the house. 

“Nothing.” She barely got out, her voice cracking. 

As she glanced up with teary eyes, he frowned right away and took a seat next to her on the steps. He nudged his knee against hers. “Tell me what’s wrong, Charlie.” 

She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as she spoke. “I think I need to break up with JJ.” 

Her dad reeled in shock, leaning away for a moment. “You need to - what did he do?” 

“Nothing. That’s the problem. He’s perfect.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. 

He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “Talk to me, kid. I don’t understand.” 

She lifted her head after a moment, leaning into his touch. “I just...I don’t think I’ll be able to be there for him like I should. After I move, I’m going to be so busy with work, and the time zones, and it’s expensive to come all the way home or for him to visit and -” 

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Her dad chided gently. “You’re scared?” 

She nodded, tearing up again. “I’m scared. He deserves better. It’s not fair to him.” 

He frowned, squeezing her shoulder. “You think he feels the same way?” 

“No, not at all. He’s going to hate me.” 

He laughed. “He won’t hate you, the boy is in love with you.” 

“He will!” She cried out, nudging him away. “But I need to do this, I can’t hold him back. He needs someone that can be there for him, all the time.” She sighed, a look of defeat crossing her face. “And I can’t do that.” 

Her dad dropped his arm from her shoulders, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re right about this, kiddo, but if you’re really meant for each other, it’ll work out.” He got up, knowing she was too stubborn to change her mind once she had a set idea in her head. “Just make sure you’re absolutely sure about it, okay?” 

“I know.” She nodded. “Can...can you just tell mom to give me some space today?” 

“Your mom’s gonna be heartbroken about this.” He joked, trying to ease the tension a little. 

Charlie just shook her head, resigned. “It’s not going to be easy.” 

“It won’t, you’re right. So just make sure.” Her dad left her with those parting words, heading back inside. 

_

A day later, she called JJ, her stomach twisting in knots just as she dialed. She had hardly texted him throughout the week, trying to distance herself to make the call marginally easier on both ends. JJ picked up right away as she expected, his voice bright. “Hi Charlie! How’s vacation?” 

“It’s good. Um. Are you busy?” She tried keeping her voice neutral as possible. 

“No, what’s up? I miss you.” He replied, some concern seeping into his tone. 

“I - oh god.” She breathed out, deciding to just rip off the bandaid. “I need to talk. And I just want you to listen. Please.” 

Back in his room in Columbia, JJ slowly sat on the edge of his bed, completely unaware of what was about to hit him. “Okay...what’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

Just hearing the pet name was like a stab to the heart, a reminder she would never hear that again if she followed through with it. But apprehension still clouded her brain and Charlie pushed forward, steeling herself. “I...I think we should break up.” 

Silence. 

JJ’s knuckles on the hand wrapped around his phone grew white and he just stared ahead, not believing his ears. Charlie bit her lip so hard she drew blood as she waited for his response, tearing up as she braced herself. After a couple minutes, she spoke again. “J, please say something.” 

Her words shook him out of his trance - no, he felt like he was living a fucking nightmare. Or a cruel joke. “You don’t think that.” 

She frowned, knowing he would protest. “I do.” Charlie heard the jingle of keys in the background, and stomps down the familiar creaky Beta house stairs. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m coming to Savannah.” JJ replied firmly, his other hand curled in a fist so tightly he was shaking. 

“No, J - that’s two and a half hours, and it’s getting dark, that’s not safe -” she pleaded, but was cut off quickly. 

“No. I’m coming to Savannah and I’m going to talk to you, in person, because you’re clearly fucking delusional right now.” JJ bit out, a harsh edge to his tone. 

“J. Please.” She was clearly crying now, anyone could hear it through the phone. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He hung up on her, determined. Surely she didn’t mean it. She was drunk, or high, or on molly or possessed by a fucking demon. He grasped at any explanation to understand why Charlie could possibly say that, but came up empty. He nearly bent the key as he jammed it into the ignition, driving out of the parking lot feeling a range of emotions. Two and a half hours was just enough time for him to come up with an argument to convince her otherwise, he decided. 

Down in Savannah, Charlie stared at her phone that was now covered with her tears, disbelieving of the conversation that just occurred. That was exactly what she didn’t want to happen - but also exactly what she expected would happen. Of course JJ wouldn’t accept no for an answer, he was going to make her say it to his face. So she took an unsteady seat out on the edge of the dock and waited - following his tiny dot on the Find My Friends app the entire way there to ensure he made it safely.  

He made it in two hours and five minutes, foot like lead on the gas the entire way as he zoned out. (It was a miracle he wasn’t pulled over.) He pulled up to her house, parked, and slammed the door loud enough that she could hear the echo from down on the dock. Charlie didn’t dare turn around, knowing she would give in the second she saw him. 

JJ stormed down the dock toward her, stopping a few feet away. “Charlie.” 

She took a deep breath, swallowing hard, then slowly turned. “JJ…”

His face was unreadable. “I thought you loved me, Charlie.” 

She bit her lip hard, trying her best to keep her composure. “I do love you, J. That’s why I’m doing this.” 

He threw up his hands in exasperation, angry. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense! Talk to me!”  

She cracked at his yelling, tears starting to stream down her face. “I - I don’t think I can do it, with long distance. I can’t be there for you like I should.” 

JJ crossed his arms, though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. “Well I’ll be excellent at long distance. So why does it matter? We’ll call, and facetime, and we can visit each other too.” 

“It’s not the same, JJ!” She hiccuped, pressing the heels of her palms hard against her eyes. He took the moment to step forward, going to wrap his arms around her  - but she stepped out of his reach. That was enough to crack his anger. 

“Charlie.” He faltered just on her name and swallowed hard. “Work with me, sweetheart, please. I’ll do anything, we can make it through this.” He pleaded brokenly. As she shook her head, his face crumpled and he allowed a few tears to fall. 

“I’m sorry, J, I really am.” She apologized, blinking hard. 

“Can I just -” He started forward again, arms outreached. She took a hesitant step forward, gently slipping her arms around his waist, and he wrapped her in a tight hug, starting to shake as he cried harder. He buried his face in her hair as he cried, trying to take in every last second of the hug. 

She clung to him, nuzzling her face into the base between his neck and his shoulder. “Please don’t cry, hon. This only makes it harder.” 

“My girl is leaving me,” he muttered. “How would it be any easier?” 

“I don’t - I don’t know.”  She mumbled, tears streaming down her face. 

He just held her tighter. 

Charlie lifted her head to meet his eyes, trying to take in his piercing look. “I can’t be here for you, J. This is it. You deserve better.” 

“Fuck that.” He shook his head insistently. “I hardly deserve you as it is.” He pressed a firm kiss to her lips, needy. “I love you, Charlie.” 

She barely puckered her lips back, trying to keep her resolve. “I love you too. Always.” With that, she stepped out of his grip, though JJ fought it. “I should go.” 

“I’ll be right here.” He promised. “When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” 

Charlie nodded, biting her lip as she took in the sight of him, illuminated by the moonlight. “I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head, unwilling to hear it. “I’ll be waiting.” 

With that she walked away, leaving behind the better half of her heart - completely shattered. 

[a-jynx]

ℙ𝕒𝕝𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕧𝕒𝕤 |

“🇸​🇴​🇲​🇪​ 🇵​🇪​🇴​🇵​🇱​🇪​ 🇦​🇷​🇪​ 🇦​🇷​🇹​🇮​🇸​🇹​🇸​. 🇸​🇴​🇲​🇪​, 🇹​🇭​🇪​🇲​🇸​🇪​🇱​🇻​🇪​🇸​, 🇦​🇷​🇪​ 🇦​🇷​🇹​."

_________ 

@harringrovisms​​, @ghostofjellyfishforgotten​​, @myboyfriendsteve​​, @greyspilot​​, @harringrovetrashh​​, @trashmouth-hargrove​​, @jackhargrove​​, @stranger-steeb​​, @harringhoe​​, @gideongrace​​, @ifuwannabemydingus​​, @memes-saved-me​, @tracy7307​, @panikyu​, @hargrove-billy​, @negativenuggetz​, @imyoursandthatsitwhatever​, @snappeajams​, @flippyspoon​, @baconspice​, @stevefuckingharrington​, @harringroveficarchive​, @thinger-strang​, @smallandnotsohandy​, 

🇹​🇭​🇮​🇸​ 🇮​🇸​ 🇵​🇦​🇱​🇪​ 🇨​🇦​🇳​🇻​🇦​🇸​, 🇫​🇴​🇷​ 🇲​🇴​🇷​🇪​ 🇨​🇴​🇳​🇹​🇪​🇽​🇹​ 🇨​🇭​🇪​🇨​🇰​ 🇴​🇺​🇹​ 🇹​🇭​🇮​🇸​ 🇵​🇴​🇸​🇹​! 🇭​🇪​🇷​🇪​'🇸​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇹​🇪​🇦​🇸​🇪​🇷​!

__________

“Wait, wait, WAIT - tell me again why the hell you like him?” Nancy scoffed as Steve shifted his head from side to side, shrugging gently. 

“I don’t know, Nance! I just… We met at one of the galas and we hit it off! He treated me like I was royalty.” Steve swooned whilst Nancy sighed, rubbing at her temples with a frown. 

“Steven, really? He treated you like that because if he wasn’t a gentleman then that could’ve ruined his reputation.” Steve furrowed his brows, grabbing at the champagne glass, swirling around the mimosa as he huffed. 

“Nance, why can’t you let me have this? I mean, seriously! We had amazing chemistry, it was insane.” He chuckled, sipping at the drink as Nancy frowned, placing her fork down and clasping her hands together, staring at Steve with concerned-filled eyes. 

“Steve, it was one night. You can’t expect love at first sight in this world. Besides you’re a big deal now, you’re taking the world by storm, and that guy-” 

“Billy Hargrove.” 

“Right. That Billy Hargrove probably knew that and was trying to make moves on you to get closer to your fortune.” Nancy breathed, taking a sip at her own drink as Steve squinted at her, frowning as he leaned his head back, finishing his drink before getting up and throwing a few bills on the table. “Steve?” 

“I’m heading to the studio, it was nice catching up, Nance.” Steve huffed, slipping on his Aviators and moving towards the exit. A waiter or two following him out as a paparazzi had gathered near the restaurant’s entrance. Steve waved, playing with his hair as he tried to shove past a few, blinking as the blinding flashes made him flinch away. 

“Excuse me, I need-” 

“Steve! Steve, what were you doing with your ex?!” 

“That’s- what? Nothing is happening-” 

“Harrington, can we expect another duet from Nancy and you in the future since your breakup?!” 

“Don’t use my last name, and that’s information I have no knowledge of at this time. Please, I’m just wanting to go home,” 

“Steve! Steve, just a few more questions!” 

Steve flinched away from each grasp, turning in a circle, trying to find a way to escape. He opened his mouth to shout, yet he gasped as a hand gripped his wrist, tugging him through and away from the group of cameras. He wiggled in the tight grip, growling as he tried to free his wrist away from the person who’d snatched him away from the paparazzi. 

They turned into an alleyway, Steve stumbling into a back as his own was pressed into the rough brick wall behind him, and the strangers’ arms caged him there. They listened to their heavy breathing as the paparazzi ran by, their equipment jingling by as Steve huffed out breaths before the streets of LA went quiet. Reaching up, Steve shoved off the stranger, growling as he brushed himself off. 

“Who the hell do you think you are!? My reputation-” 

“Won’t be ruined, Pretty boy.” The stranger snickered as Steve blinked, bringing his glasses down, his dark brown eyes widened at the sight of Billy Hargrove - the man who had made Steven feel like royalty a mere week ago. 

“Billy? What the hell are you doing here!” Steve grinned, pushing his glasses up as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Billy’s neck, just as he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. Steve leaned back, keeping his arms around the boy’s neck as his lips split into a grin.

“My work got interrupted, so I get to stay home for another few weeks. And thank God for that, or I’d never gotten to save your ass from that paparazzi.” Billy could only smirk as Steve merely scoffed, yet a smile stayed on his lips. 

“Awe, my sweet curls in denim,” Steve grinned, flashing his teeth, as he leaned further back in Billy’s arms, gently swaying as Billy shook his head, chuckling. 

“Hey, how about we get outta here?” He murmured, leaning down some and staring down into Steve’s dark pools of chocolate. Steve bit his bottom lip, another large smile breaking his lips as he slowly nodded. Billy released the lanky boy’s waist, grabbing his wrist and tugging him further down the alleyway. Their laughter and running steps filled the cement walls while their lips split into smiles larger than the universe around them. 

They came to a slow stop, a gorgeous lightning blue 1979 Camaro glistened in the California sun. Billy opened the driver’s side door, nodding for Steve to hop in and slide over, he did so. The leather warm through his black knee-length shorts and the sunshine seemed to almost blister him through his white tee. 

“What’s the plan here, curls? You kidnappin’ me and holdin’ me for ransom?” Steve smirked as he settled into the leather seat as Billy climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him as he flashed a wolfish grin. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t ya, princess?” 

“I think you’d like that more than me, curly,” Steve smirked as Billy reached down to turn on the vintage muscle car, only for it to click and shut off again. His brow furrowed as he tried again, and again, and again. Huffing, Billy shifted himself to where he could reach beneath the wheel. Steve watched in awe as Billy tugged out a few wires, messing with them and grinning as the car roared to life. 

“You know how to hotwire?” He breathed as the blonde sat back up, grinning as he reached up, slipping on his orange-tinted sunglasses. 

“I’m pretty good with my hands, pretty boy.” He winked as he shifted the car into drive, pressing the gas as Steve slid closer, pushing their shoulders together as Billy’s wrist rested on the steering wheel, the other rested on Steve’s knee before reaching forward and popping open the cupholder, an e-cigarette falling out as he reached forward and plucked it out, using his right hand to bring it up to his lips. Sucking down with a strange noise, only to sigh out the thick white smog. Steve chewed on his bottom lip, leaning further into Billy as he grinned. 

“When’s your next tour, pretty boy?” He mumbled, passing the e-cigarette to Steve with a smirk. Steve took a deep breath, blowing out the stream of smoke as he side-eyed Billy. 

“Mm, I’m not a hundred percent. I’ll probably ask Tyler when I get back to the studio.” He shrugged, rolling his tongue against the back of his teeth as Billy hummed. “Why do you ask?” 

“I was gonna say, why don’t we go on our own little tour? See all of California before you see the rest of the world?” Billy smiled, glancing at Steve huffed out a soft chuckle, turning his body into Billy’s side, curling up next to him even with the blistering heat beating in through the California sunlight. 

“Let’s ride, curly.” 

~ Time Skip; six months ~ 

“Do you know when you’re coming home?” Steve whispered into the phone, his tears staining his cheeks as he sniffled. He and Billy had begun dating six months ago, at least a week after their escape into San Diego. Steve still lived in his studio while Billy kept to his small beach-side apartment, and now? Now, Billy was across the damn world working on a piece that could get his talent to go worldwide. 

“I’m not a hundred percent, pretty boy… I’ll have to talk to Joshua when I get back to the apartment.” Billy whispered back, his voice gruff and low. He sounded so, so tired. 

“You stole that from me, thief.” 

“I’m merely quoting my poetic boyfriend, asshole.” Billy gruffed out as Steve sniffled again, rubbing his sweatshirts’ sleeve against his reddened cheek. 

“I miss you like crazy, Billy,” Steve whispered into the phone, turning onto his back as ruffling came from Billy’s side of the speaker, most likely him ruffling through the sheets or something. A gentle sigh came from him. 

“I miss you too, Stevie, it should only be a few more weeks.” 

“It’s already been two months, Billiam! I’m going to die if I go any longer without seeing you.” Steve huffed, jutting out his bottom lip as Billy sighed into the speaker. Steve understood that it was stressful for both of them; for Billy when Steve was away producing, or doing shows, or going on tour, and for Steve when Billy had to go to shows, open houses, or like he was now, work out of state - country. 

“Pretty boy, you don’t know how much I wish I was next to you right now, but you’ve gotta be strong for a few more days, okay?” Billy whispered, pouring love and promise into each word as Steve huffed, rolling onto his side as he grabbed at the collar of the tee he was wearing, pulling it up to his nose with a huff, he was met with Billy’s scent. 

“That’s gonna be rough,” he mumbled, still nuzzled into the fabric as Billy chuckled out a gruff laugh, making Steve’s chest squeeze. “What’s the great artist Billy making this fine whatever-time-it-is-in-London?” 

“Would you appreciate the romantic version or the crude version?” 

“When have you ever not done both?” Steve teased. 

“Well, you’re not wrong for that. I’m thinking of doing the naked stars.” Billy’s voice dropped a few octaves as Steve sighed gently. He rolled onto his stomach, setting the phone on the extra pillow, and tucking his arms underneath his head, humming. 

“Could you describe it to me, curly?” 

“Are you laying down?” Billy slightly cooed as Steve scoffed, grinning sleepily to himself. 

“Maybe.” 

“Well, here’s to hoping you are, pretty boy. The canvas is covered in a fair color - a sweet peachy condensed milk slipped over it. Dark moles formed on the flesh-colored, creating stars; creating universes all over the meat of the canvas. And it reminds me of you. Pretty boy. The milky flesh tone, the dark moles decorating your body and creating those gorgeous stars and galaxies that I trace every night.” Billy’s voice trailed as he listened to the soft snores from Steve, a grin slipping across his face as he placed his phone on the window seat next to him, picking up his brush again and dusting gentle strokes of dusted pink rose across the cream-colored canvas. Biting his lip, he used his smaller one and dipped it into the sky blue and scratched it across a few places, defining out with the pink and milk. 

Taking a few steps back, Billy flicked his tongue out and licked at his bottom lip, grinning as he stuck his paintbrush into the mug of deluded mixtures of colors. Reaching up, he plucked his e-cigarette from behind his ear, and sucked a needed puff from it, smirking as he pinched his detail brush, squatting down and etching his ‘BH’ across the bottom. 

Stepping towards the window seat, he grabbed his phone and grinned at the sound of Steve still snoring away. Poor things’ gonna be pissed when he wakes up to his phone being dead. Billy snickered at the thought. Taking a few steps back, he angled himself to where he would get a full picture of the canvas, grinning as he snapped a few photos. Texting a few to his manager, Joshua, he sent it and grinned as Josh texted back. 

Amazing, Billy, gorgeous work. Now, what’s this fine piece called? 

Billy sat for a moment, his thumbs hovering as the paintbrush sat weighted against his ear while the e-cigarette sat between his pouted lips. 

Don’t Say I Love You to Say I Love You 

Brilliant. I’ll get the frame created and we’ll get it set for the upcoming art show! 

Does that mean I’m heading home early…?

Yes, Billy, that means you get to see Steven four weeks early. :) I’ll get your flight set up for the morning. 

Thanks, Josh 

Billy slipped his phone into his jeans’ pocket, slipping on his sweatshirt as he began to dump out mugs, rinse out brushes and dry them to be put up into his brushes’ sleeve. Popping tops back onto the tins to be used later, wiping down a few spots that had caked up with paint. Sighing to himself, Billy walked towards the rooms’ door, flicking off the lights and moving towards the attached bedroom with a smile painted across his features; dreaming of bliss for once he can return to his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Heather, hey! Hey, yeah, it’s me, you wouldn’t mind getting me from the airport?” Billy grinned as he stood in line to board his flight. Josh stuck to his promise of an earlier morning flight. 

“Uh, sure, yeah. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another four weeks or so?” She yawned from the other side. Billy grinned, nodding as he gave over his ticket, walking down the hallway and onto the airline, wandering into first class. 

“Finished work early, but hey, don’t mention anything to Steve, okay? I want to surprise him.” Billy could only smirk as he found his seat, reclining back as he listened to Heather shuffling around on the other end. 

“Duh, I’m not stupid, Hargrove. When is your plane getting in?” 

“It’ll be a few hours, maybe a day or two, depending on how many stops. But, I’ll shoot you a text when I land in Cali, cool?” 

“Radical. See you then, Hargrove.” Heather quipped as she ended the call, most likely heading back to sleep. Billy gently tossed his phone into the seat next to him, shrugging himself further into the plush seat, his eyes falling close as the captain came on over the speaker, speaking of the few stops they’d have to take across the way. This was going to be a lonnnngggg flight.  

“Now landing in Los Angeles, California.” Billy blinked, a smile splitting his face as he opened his messages, sending a quick note to Heather about him landing. 

Pushing out of the crowd, Billy gathered his suitcases and duffel bag, straining to see Heather over the thinning crowd. 

“Billy! Hargrove, over here!” He snapped his head towards the voice, grinning as he noticed her arm waving around in the air, making him laugh and quickly run towards her. Scooping her up into his arms as they hugged, greeting one another with large grins. 

“Heather, good to see you, I see Cali is treating you sweetly,” Billy smirked as she grabbed one of his rolling suitcases, leading him towards the exit. 

“It’s become a second home, Billy. How was London? I heard there were a few weather mishaps up there.” She murmured, throwing the case into the truck as Billy followed, setting the duffel bag in the backseat, climbing into the passenger seat as she rounded the Jeep and climbed in, grinning as he shrugged. 

“Nothing happened where I was, sure, a bit of rain and snow, but nothing stopped me from finishing those works.” 

“How many did you get done?” 

“Ten. Including the personal one for that show going on in Italy in a month.” He murmured, tugging out his phone and plugging it in as she came to a stop. 

“Damn, you must be making bank with how many people are wanting something of yours.” She grinned, stepping on the gas as the light switched to green. Billy merely scoffed, smirking as he shrugged. 

“Don’t give me a big head, I’m about to see Steve.” He chuckled as she snorted, nodding as she took a left then another left, straight, and then a right until they came to Steve’s studio. A large grin sprang across Billy’s face as he grabbed his duffel and ran towards the front, leaving Heather to grab his bags. His ruined sneakers pounded against the pavement as he ran up the steel stairwell, his hands shaking as he shook out his shoulders, bringing up his fist and pounding against the pale white door, his body vibrating as he shifted his duffel bag. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jesus, Rob, I just got off the phone with you! How are you-” Steve growled, yanking open the door, only for his words to fall in his throat as the two stared at one another. Steve blinked, his lips tugged into a grin as he shot forward, wrapping his arms around Billy’s throat, wrapping his legs around his hips as Billy laughed, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and holding him as physically close as he could. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck, Billy, what are you doing here?” Steve gaped, tears running down his cheeks as Billy smiled sweetly at him, angling his boyfriend to where he could still hold him with an arm while using his free hand to smudge away the tears as he pressed longing kisses against every possible inch of his skin; peppering his tearful boyfriend in sweet hello kisses. 

“I got to come home early! I finished everything, so here I am.” He grinned gently, thumbing at the tender skin of Steve’s bottom lip. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s thumb, grinning as he leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Billy’s neck as a grunt came from behind them. They both untangled themselves to see Heather snarling, yet her eyes were glittering as Steve dipped himself into Billy’s side, only to usher towards her with a grin. 

“Heather? You were in on this!?” Steve gasped, leaning back from the hug as she shrugged, a knowing smile already playing on her lips. They released each other as Billy wandered closer, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders as she grinned at the couple. 

“What? When one of my fellow gays is in need, I’m there! Besides, he wanted to surprise you, who was I to say no.” She smirked as Billy scoffed, reaching over and ruffling her thick hair as she growled. 

“Yeah. Real helpful when you want to be, huh, Heather?” He teased with a grin as she rolled her eyes, slipping on her pink-hued sunglasses. 

“Well, I know you two have a lot to catch up on, and I need to get back to help Robin with dinner. Don’t forget, we’re planning a double-date for all of us!” She shouted over her shoulder, waving to them and disappearing down the black steel stairs. 

“So,” Steve trailed, looking up through his thick lashes at Billy, his lips tugged into a smirk. “Wanna go catch up?” He tiptoed his fingers across Billy’s bicep, grinning as he reached forward grabbing one of the suitcases, Steve doing the same, as Billy’s free hand cupped onto Steve’s ass, grinning triumphantly as they walked into the chilled studio. 

“I thought you’d never ask, pretty boy.” 

~ Time Skip; two months ~ 

“Uh-huh? Yes, yes of course. Thank you! Yes, I’ll make sure my manager sends you a copy for you and your team to listen to it!” Steve gushed, ending the phone call as he turned to Billy, tears trailing down his cheeks as he shot out towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck. “My request went through! It went through and the company is over-seeing the song - the album!” He cried, yet his lips were in a large smile as Billy hugged him back, grinning as he nuzzled his nose into Steve’s throat, grinning as he placed open-mouth kisses across his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“Holy shit, baby, I’m so proud of you! Jesus, I’m so, so proud!” Billy grinned, nuzzling into Steve’s throat as Steve settled into Billy’s chest, leaning back some as Billy licked over his bottom lip, waggling his tongue as Steve smirked. “Why don’t we celebrate?” He muttered, pressing their lips together, licking into each other’s mouths and muffling each other’s moans. Billy turned over, flipping Steve onto their shared queen size bed, straddling his waist while pressing kisses all over Steve’s nose, cheeks, lips, forehead, jaw and trailing down his throat, kitten licking at his pulse. 

“Bill, come on, please,” Steve whined, a deep moan coming from the back of his throat as Billy drug his hands up, his blunt nails scratching up against Steve’s porcelain skin, leaving small red lines in their wake. He tugged off the vintage tee hiding his prize, Billy tossed the cotton shirt off to the side before tugging his own off and throwing it to disappear against their cool birch colored floorboards. 

His lips suckled and licked at Steve’s nipples, tugging at them with his teeth before trailing down his sternum and biting at his stomach, grinning as it twitched under each nip and lick. Gasps echoed throughout the bedroom, Steve’s hand shot out, gathering a bunch of Billy’s curls, rutting against his boyfriend’s chest. Billy chuckled lowly, glancing down at Steve’s crotch, grinning as he noticed the wet spot growing against the grey sweatpants. 

“You’re already so wet for me, Pretty boy.” He purred, licking at the wet spot, moving his arms and hooking his fingers on the elastic waistband, tugging down the straining material in a swift motion as Steve whimpered. 

“Commando? Awe, am I rubbing off on you, princess?” He smirked a wolfish smirk as Steve bucked into him, whining lowly in his throat. Billy ducked down, licking at the leaking tip with a steady, flat tongue as Steve gaped and gagged on his spit as he shuddered, feeling Billy’s warm mouth swallow him down. Bouncing his head up and down, Steve’s mouth fell into an open ‘o’, his eyes falling shut as his sweat and Billy’s spit glistened in the late California sun. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as Billy drew up, swirling his tongue along the tip, and dragging the tip of tongue across the bottom, suckling on the throbbing vein on the underside of Steve’s pretty cock. 

“Billy, Billy, Billy, please! Please, I’m… I’m so close, I just-” Steve chanted, rolling his body against the bedding, shaking and shuddering as the white comforter stuck to his sweaty skin, following his body as he arched up, trying to thrust up into Billy’s fading mouth. 

“Hold on, baby, we’re gonna go together, okay?” Billy murmured, kissing and nipping at Steve’s thighs as they twitched and tried to close, only for Billy’s hands to slide down and hold them apart. He massaged Steve’s legs as he slowly pushed them up, gripping them behind his knees as he dove down, licking gently at the flutter rim. Steve whined more, bucking as his cock stood at full attention as Billy’s tongue lapped and licked at the hole, dipping in an inch each time. Broken - shattered - moans escaped from Steve’s chest, each lick caused a shutter to coarse through his body, each loving touch caused a cracked moan to escape from him. 

“Billy, baby, please.” Billy slowly looked up through his lashes, noting the sweat and flushed look blooming across his lover’s face and chest. His dark eyes were dazed over, glossy with small tears. He moved to sit up on his knees, wrapping Steve’s legs around his waist as he used one of his hands to spit and slick up his weeping dick. He fisted it until it glittered with pre-come and saliva, shifting his weight again, he centered with Steve, before slowly pushing in. Both boy’s jaws fell open, pants escaped them as they arched together. Billy bottomed out, both of them shudder, holding onto one another, their fingers digging into each other’s biceps. 

“Fuck, fuck, god Stevie,” Billy whimpered, adjusting himself as Steve wrapped his legs around Billy’s waist, clinging to him with a groan. Shallow thrust moved them together, the bed gently squeaking in protest as Billy’s thrust became deeper, faster, harder. The squelching noises echoed in Steve’s ears as he reached up, wrapping his arms around Billy’s shoulders, one hand threading through the loose curls that hung down, while the long pendant dragged across his chest, tickling him as he panted. 

“Billy, fuck, I’m… I’m so close,” he whispered, peppering open mouth kisses across Billy’s sweat slicked chest, shoulders, and throat, trying to lick or touch any skin he could touch. Steve’s mouth tumbled open as he arched up into Billy’s chest, feeling the weight of his body as Billy’s dick twitched inside of him, making him gasp as ropes of come lashed onto his and Billy’s chest, spreading and dripping - creating a mess - along the boy’s bodies as Billy buried himself further into Steve, grunting as he shuddered, releasing his own spunk. 

“Hol- Holy shit,” Billy breathed, shuttering slightly as they laid there. The bedroom reeked of sweat, come, and sex. Steve’s eyes dropped and a dopey grin stretched across his face as Billy slowly pulled out, making him flinch gently as his hole fluttered around the feeling of emptiness. Billy reached down, tugging one of his older paint shirts from the floor before gently swiping it across Steve’s chest and stomach, as well as his own, cleaning the bits of come that began to dry. 

“I - Damn, that was fun,” Steve giggled, turning onto his side as Billy threw the shirt off near the bathroom door, laying next to his boyfriend with a euphoria-induced smile. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders, tugging him close with a happy sigh. 

“Well, of course, we had to celebrate my pretty boy’s win.” Billy grinned, pressing a litter of kisses across Steve’s sweaty face, connecting their lips as Steve cuddled closer, nuzzling into his warm body as sleep slowly took over. The two cuddled against one another as the California sun slowly descended behind the ocean waves; leaving them to sleep peacefully drift away in each other’s arms. 

The next morning, Billy woke to a cold bed, squinting he slowly sat up and rubbed at his face, groaning as he moved towards the drawers, pulling on an old pair of black sweats before walking towards the kitchen. A quiet hum came from in there, the sound of cluttering echoed throughout the shared apartment. Rounding the corner, Billy couldn’t help but smile as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Steve stood at the stove, swaying away to the music tumbling out of his speaker, his head of hair sticking everywhere and looking crazed - slept on and roused from sex. His boxers peaked out from beneath the old button up of Billy’s he had given to Steve months ago. 

Billy grinned, moving closer and standing behind him, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist with lingering kisses on his shoulder and throat, leading up to his cheek as Steve giggled. He turned his head, capturing Billy’s lips before turning back to stove, scrambling their eggs. Billy reached out, snatching a piece of bacon as Steve swatted at his hand, scoffing with a grin. 

“You’re supposed to wait for everything, Billiam,” Steve lightly growled, grinning as he finished off the eggs, scooping two spoonfuls on two plates and setting them in their respected chairs, before returning and grabbing the bacon and mimosas Steve had made earlier. 

“How could I wait when my lovely boyfriend makes the best food?” 

“Because that’s how you’re supposed to eat a meal, dork,” Steve took a bite, chewing as Billy stared at him, grinning as Steven arched a brow, swallowing before taking a sip and smiling at his dopey-looking boyfriend. 

“What’re you staring at..?” He grinned, patting at his face as he tried to find if there was any food or liquid left on his lips. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“No, no, I just… Jesus, Stevie, I love you.” Billy purred, clapping his chin into his palm as Steve’s lips fell open, his eyes widened, and a burning pink bloomed across his cheeks. 

“I love you, Billy… So much. I swear, sometimes, all I need is you.” Steve whispered, his cheeks dusted in a pink hue as Billy grinned, rising from his seat and moving towards Steve, his hand cupped Steve’s chin, angling it up as he smashed their lips together. Teeth clattered, tongues wrestled, and lips felt bruised as Billy slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against Steve’s with a sickly sweet smile. 

“Sometimes? I might need to try harder than.” Billy whispered against Steve’s lips as he shook his head, tilting up and planting one more kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. 

“Nah, you don’t need to try harder. I know you’re all I’ll ever want, curls.”  

~ Time Skip; Two Months ~ 

A year. They’d been together for a year now, and neither of them could ask for a better relationship - a better life. 

“Listen, boys, I just want to congratulate you both on your winnings! Billy with your art now selling worldwide, and Steve with your album reaching number one in a matter of an hour of release! You, both, are truly gifted.” Tyler toasted as their friends all clapped, some shouting and some hollering in hooray as they grinned, toasting to Tyler. 

“We have you and Joshua to thank for that, Tyler, really.” Steve grinned, his hand intertwined with Billy’s, resting on his thigh as Billy gave him a small squeeze. 

“I agree with Steve. I truly believe we would’ve never met, nor would’ve made these winnings, without either of you. So, a true thank you to you both.” Billy tipped his champagne glass to the two managers, they both nodded as everyone went about their own conversations. Steve’s newest album, Blue Skies, blasted through the speakers while everyone mingled and talked. Steve stayed with Billy, both of them already had talked to their friends and their respected people. Billy looked around before throwing back his champagne, making Steve snort before doing the same as Billy tugged him towards the exit, leaving the party to themselves. 

They escaped into the humid night, their hands gripping each other as Billy ushered them into the parking lot, their faces grinning from ear-to-ear while they rushed towards the Camaro. Clambering in, Steve settled into his spot, snatching one of the whiskeys they had hidden there for tonight. Billy slid in, turning on the Camaro and quickly speeding out of the parking lot, settling an arm around Steve’s shoulders as he uncapped the bottle, throwing back his head and guzzling as he sat up, his face twisting into a pout; Billy couldn’t help but laugh. 

The windows were down, the wind roaring around them and inside the cab as Billy pulled up to the beach, the dark ocean glittering beneath the bright, full silver moon. The two climbed out, rushing towards the beach, kicking off their fancy shoes and splashing into the icy water. Steve reached down and splashed water at Billy, making him shout and run towards him, scooping him up and driving them into the water. Surfacing, Steve gasped and shook as he dove at Billy dragging him close, wrapping his body around the boy who laughed, throwing his back and smirking at Steve, who was slightly shivering against him. 

“Wanna get out, Pretty boy?” Billy asked, wrapping his arms around Steve’s back as he nodded, flashing him a grin as Billy slowly climbed out, taking Steve with him and holding him close as he wandered back towards the Camaro, dropping him off before rushing back to the sand to gather their shoes and jogging back. 

Steve was leaning against the hood of the Camaro, staring out at the ocean with a dewy look in his dark chocolate eyes. Billy wandered up, slinging the shoes into the back floorboards before settling on the other side of Steve, staring out where Steve’s eyes were fixated. He side-glanced his boyfriend before rolling his lips together, searching out his hand as Steve gripped it tightly, swiping his thumb over the back of his palm. 

“Billy?” 

“Yeah, Stevie?” He hummed, moving closer as Steve pressed their shoulders together, playing with Billy’s fingers. Steve chewed on his bottom lip as Billy angled himself to see Steve’s face. “Steve?” 

“Can we… What if we… Never mind, it’s … It’s stupid.” Steve laughed, dropping Billy’s hand, turning his head to the side and away from Billy’s view. 

“Hey, hey, come on, you can tell me and… And whatever it is? It’s not stupid, Steve. Not to me.” He whispered, grabbing Steve’s hand and using his free one to grip his chin, turning his face back to him with a small, simple smile. “Tell me, please?” 

Steve inhaled deeply, sighing out of his nose before nodding. “Iwannamarryyou.” 

Billy blinked, staring deeply into Steve’s tearing up eyes as he opened his mouth to speak, only for Steve to shake his head, blinking away tears as he tried to pull away from Billy, only for his grip to tighten. Steve’s body began to shake, not from the droplets of water still clinging to his body, but from the stare of Billy looking into his very damn soul. 

“Billy, it’s… It’s fine! We - We don’t need to talk about it. Let’s just… Just leave it alone, okay? Forget I brought it up-” Steve began to ramble, his body still shaking until he angled his head down, flinching as Billy jumped down from the Camaro’s hood, and standing in front of Steve, fitting himself between his legs as tears dripped down his chin and dissolved into his already wet tee. 

“Steve? Are you serious? Do you want… Are you sure?” Billy asked in a hushed voice, yet Steve stayed quiet. Billy felt tears well-up in his darkening eyes. “Steve, come on, answer me. Tell me you’re sure, please.” 

“Fine! Yes, yes, god I want to marry you because this past year you’ve made me feel alive! You make me whole, you make me feel like I’m not… I’m not bullshit! You make me feel like I deserve the most love and the best things in life, and that happens to be fucking you! It happens to be you, William Thomas Hargrove, you’re my fucking light and I love you!” Steve shouted, tears streaking down his cheeks as Billy stared at him, eyes wide, and mouth agape as Steve tried to yank his wrist free from Billy’s grip, yet it tightened, making Steve release a broken sob. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, only to be silenced as Billy pressed his lips against his. He moaned against Billy’s mouth, the grip on his wrist slowly loosening as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s shoulders, dragging him as close as he could. Billy broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Steve’s as he looked up, swiping his bottom lip with a gentle growl. 

“We can get married tonight, if you really wanna?” Billy murmured, his eyes switching between Steve’s as more tears rushed to his waterline. Steve nodded a few times before latching himself to Billy’s chest, sniffling against the hollow of his throat while pressing butterfly soft kisses to his skin. The feeling of teeth brushed against Billy’s jugular, making him shiver, even with the hot air around them. 

“What’re you doing to wear a suit..?” Steve murmured, leaning back and settling his forehead against Billy’s temple, making him smirk. 

“Just like some cheap, sleazy lawyer in a romcom.” 

“God, you could act like a sleazy lawyer,” Steve snorted, shaking his head as Billy grinned, flashing his teeth. 

“Awe, you think I’m cheap?” Billy tsked, pressing kisses all over Steve’s cheek, tip of his nose, forehead, eyes, chin, lips, and jaw - all of the cooling, yet warm flesh of Steve Harrington. Finally, sealing a kiss with him as Steve as they both smiled, Steve’s hands moved up to hold Billy’s face, pressing their lips tighter together. 

“Not in a million years, Billiam, not in a million fucking years.” Steve grinned, pressing another kiss to Billy’s nose. Billy stepped back, helping Steve jump from the hood, their hands staying intertwined, rounding the car and leaning against the drivers’ side door. 

“I love you, Steven James Harrington, more than anything in this world. And I cannot wait to share my life with you, for the rest of my life. You’re my pretty boy, my princess, my little songbird. You’ve made my life so much more interesting and just… Steve, will you do the honor of becoming Mr. Hargrove?” Billy gave a lopsided grin, gripping Steve’s hands as tears sprung from Steve’s dark eyes as he nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“Yes, yes, fuck yes a million times yes, Billy.” Steve murmured, pressing their lips together, sealing a promise - their promise - of forever. 

~ Time Skip; 3 months ~ 

The sunlight broke through the sheer curtains, drifting through the bedroom and settling against the white comforter. It glistened with California sunlight reflecting off of it, it could be classified as reflective, blinding as well. 

Steve inhaled deeply, the salty sea air entering his lungs as he sighed, turning onto his back as his arm flopped to the other side, only to meet ice-cold sheets. Huffing, Steve peeled open one of his eyes, frowning as he pushed himself up from the sheets. Sitting up fully, the soft cotton sheet slid down Steve’s porcelain colored chest, a faint pink rested across his chest from where his body stuck to the sheets and his nipples that stood out from his fair skin. Reaching up, he rubbed his palms’ heel into his eyes, kicking off the sheets he threw his legs over the side and tugging on a pair of boxers and one of Billy’s old painting shirts. 

“Billy?” Steve called into their shared apartment, one arm wrapped around his chest while he swayed down the quiet hallway, yawning as he moved towards the living room and kitchen, frowning when he hears soft music playing from one of the extra rooms. 

“Billy?” He took a cautious step towards the cracked door, his eyes squinted from the harsh lights that Billy had installed for his late-night art thrills. Steve’s lips broke into a smile as he leaned against the door frame. Billy stood shirtless in the middle of his art room, large paint tins scattered around his bare feet, a few pieces in corners and paint splatters covered the walls, except for one, a project Billy said would come later. 

Glancing back to his boyfriend - fiance - he stared with practical heart eyes as Billy moved around, either squatting to stare at the painting before him swaying to the soft music of, “For Him.” The song Steve had produced not even three weeks ago, after their first year anniversary, Steve had sworn he’d make a song for Billy… Who knew it’d become a hit? 

“Earth to Pretty boy?” 

Steve blinked, moving his head and grinning as Billy stood in front of him. Flecks of paint were flaking off of his pecs and stomach, making Steve shake his head - whatever Billy did he had to always make a mess - always. 

“I’m here, Tiger,” Steve scooted off of the framework, pressing himself into Billy as he leaned up, pressing his pink-tinted lips into Billy’s fiery red ones. Leaning back, yet keeping his lips against Billy’s, Steve grinned. “Whatcha working on?” 

“Something… I just… I honestly don’t know what this thing is.” Billy groaned, moving his head to the side and pressing his forehead against the burrow of Steve’s shoulder and collarbone, pressing open mouth kisses against the warm skin. 

“Mm, you better not be stressing yourself out, Billiam. Y’ know Joshua told you that your last four pieces sold well so you could have the week off.” Steve murmured against Billy’s ear, kissing it gently as Billy huffed against his shoulder before leaning back up. Billy tilted his head, staring at Steve with that searching, yet lost look in his sky blue eyes. Billy reached forward, grabbing Steve’s wrist and tugging him forward, positioning him in the middle of the studio, circling him like a predator. 

“Baby-”

“Sh, sh, I’m thinking, pretty boy,” Billy pressed a finger to his lips before grabbing on his large brushes, grinning as he bit his bottom lip, making Steve furrow his brows and cross his arms over his chest. “Y’ know, Pretty boy, you are my canvas.” 

Before Steve could open his mouth to thank or question his fiance, Billy reached back and flung bright blue paint across Steve’s torso, the paint flicking and splattering against the messed cotton and his pale skin. 

“Fuck you, Billy!” Steve laughed, his lips in a large grin as Billy smirked, and somehow… Steve knew he wasn’t finished. He breathed out a laugh as Billy walked towards him, holding up another brush and handing it over to Steve, who smirked and took it, smacking it against Billy’s bare chest. He shivered as Steve smeared the cool paint against him, dragging his fingers through it and leaving hand prints in his wake. 

“You’re loving this too much,” Billy groaned, shuddering as Steve pinched at his nipple, leaving a trail of blood red across his chest, before leaning into Billy, smacking and smearing their chests together. The baby blue met the blood red, pecking and smearing and arching into each other as Billy’s hands gripped and pulled at Steve’s body, gripping his pale flesh and pulling him closer. Steve’s hand tangled themselves in the short curls on top of Billy’s head, dragging his blunt nails through the shaved sides, groaning as Billy pecked and licked at Steve’s neck, before reaching down and tugging him down with him. 

They landed with a thud, Billy’s free hand dipped into the blue paint, pressing and blurring the colors as his painted hands tugged at the shirt and boxers, throwing them away as Steve’s red hands pulled at Billy’s loose jeans, mentally thanking God that he somehow tolerates going commando in jeans. Billy sat back on his calves, swallowing thickly as he stared down at his fiance. His hair already messed, flecks of paint already sticking to the strands, pupils blown and his dark eyes seemed darker, and the royal purples smeared across his shuddering chest made Billy’s dick stir. 

“Fuck, Pretty boy… I always thought you were royalty,” Billy murmured, smirking as he ducked down, taking a lick at Steve’s weeping tip, making him shudder out a broken sigh. “But this purple just shows me King Steve is worth more than a jewels.” He suckled on the tip again, popping off of it and crawling up Steve’s body, pressing deep kisses against the paint, trailing up the porcelain skin before staring down at the man he gets to share his life with. The one he promised to love forever. He grinned, making Steve giggle before he pressed a mixed paint kiss to Steve’s cheeks and lips, careful to not get it into his mouth, or his own. 

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.” Billy murmured, pressing his nose against Steve’s as Steve sighed, reaching up and tangling one of his hands with Billy’s, mixing the paint one more; creating the royal purple. 

“Billy, I… I love being your canvas.” He whispered, as Billy stared at him, awe and deep love burrowed into his eyes as Steve grinned, tilting his head up to meet their lips into a seal of love. A seal of promise. A seal of artwork. 

“You’re it for me, Steve. You’re my pale canvas.” 

_________

[stuffandnosense]

Back To You - Chpt 5

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4

Description: Post A/L breakup after season 7, Pidge and Lance are JUST starting to, maybe, figure something out. But then a mission gone wrong leaves Pidge unable to feel emotions, unable to act on the feelings they were barely sure they had, and the condition may or may not be permanent.

***

Allura is in uniform when she emerges from the bathroom again, just pushing a final pin into her hair that’s now up. Lance is still at the table, trying to stave off the last of the shivering running through him with the blanket the princess settled around his shoulders before she went to get dressed.

“So you have everything you need now?” he asks.

“I believe so,” she says. “How are you doing?”

Lance lets out a breath and gets to his feet, leaving the blanket behind. A final shiver runs through his shoulders, but with a deep breath it seems to finally have stopped. “I’m okay. I should get out of your way. I um...just...thank you.”

She pulls him into a hug, and he isn’t going to say no to that. Not now.

“Of course,” she says.

“How much time do you need? When do you think you can try…?”

Allura shrugs as she releases him. “Soon. We’ll be arriving at the gas giant we’re planning to study later this morning; we’ll be out most of the afternoon collecting scans and samples. But perhaps tomorrow? That should give me enough time to collect my thoughts.”

“You think so?”

“I’ll speak with Pidge and her father and the doctors. Shiro as well. If everyone agrees I don’t see why not. After all, the sooner we can have Pidge back in her lion, the better.”

“Yeah…”

Allura tilts her head at him. “You should try to get some rest before we reach the gas giant.”

Lance winces. “Maybe. I’m gonna hit the showers at least.”

***

When Lance comes out of Allura’s room, it’s still relatively early. He expects to be alone in the corridor.

He isn’t. He looks up as the door closes behind him and Pidge is there, just coming out of her own room. Staring at him. His cheeks color immediately, horribly of aware of how this probably looks. He opens his mouth to say something, but she’s already turning and walking away.

“P-Pidge, wait!” He takes quick strides to catch up, reaching out as he goes. He nearly grabs her arm, but at a brush of her sleeve she turns back silently to look at him. “Pidge...th-this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“What does it look like?”

“I…” He makes a face. “Never mind. But it isn’t! I was just helping Allura—“

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to think Allura and I are...together again, or anything. It’s not like that. She had to finish looking around in my head and everything so she can help YOU.”

Pidge shrugs once. “You only recently ended your relationship with the princess; it would be reasonable of both you to want to give it another try, especially considering the current circumstances.”

“We’re not! I told you, that’s not what—circumstances?”

She’s silent for a moment before she answers him. As if assessing if it makes sense to say what she says next. “That I may never be able to return the feelings you have for me.”

Lance isn’t sure he heard that correctly. It takes him a moment to remember to breathe. “The...what? You...you know? How…?”

She faces him more fully, nodding a bit. “It’s been clear for some time now. Until what happened I was too quick to dismiss it as wishful thinking due to my own, but it’s easier to see now.”

Lance reaches out to the corridor wall for support. “Pidge…?” She knew? And she…?

“I understand that your feelings were likely what you didn’t want to tell me about last night.”

“Yeah…”

“I apologize; I seem to have upset you.”

It hurts. He should be happy. Elated. A week ago this would have been the moment he’s been waiting for for...only weeks, really, but somehow...for so much longer.

But now it just hurts. His other hand clenches at his side; part of him wants to be angry, but it isn’t her fault she’s so blunt. She’s not completely tactless even this way as it is. At least she’s apologizing for the sudden...whatever just happened.

“You’re saying...you have...had...f-feelings for me. Too. Before? And-and you knew that I—?”

“I was under the impression you were aware of it, too.”

Lance swallows. Maybe he had been. “That’s why you came last night.”

She knew. Was she trying to keep him from being hurt later? Maybe it’s only logic to her now, but it had to have come from somewhere. Thoughts or knowledge or instincts she had...before.

“Yes,” she says. “Was I not straightforward enough then?”

“No, no, you were pretty clear, I’m just…I’m just an idiot, I guess.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “You may not be at my level, admittedly, but you’re certainly not lacking in intelligence at all; the Garrison would never have admitted you if that were the case, and I can personally attest to your quick and creative thinking.”

Lance straightens in surprise. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said.” He laughs weakly, blinking to push back the sudden dampness in his eyes. “Pidge, I...look, I still hope we can get you back to normal soon, but there ARE a few things I kind of like about this you.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Will you be all right? I should be going. I’m meeting my dad for breakfast. He seems concerned that I might become too ‘disconnected,’ as he puts it. He’s insisted on a certain roster of social activities.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay; you should go.”

Pidge nods and heads off for the cafeteria, leaving Lance in the corridor. Not for the first time since all of this started.

But this time it hurts just a little less.

***

When Lance makes it back to the cafeteria after showering and changing, he doesn’t find many people he knows. Again. It’s too late for breakfast for most people. Again. Just like yesterday. And he hasn’t seen much of Keith and Hunk in a day or so. He isn’t sure what they’re up to.

There’s no sign of Pidge, but Sam is still here—at a table in the corner with empty dishes still spread in front of him, staring at nothing and seemingly lost in thought. But Lance knows that look. He’s seen it in the mirror enough the last couple of days.

He finds himself drifting that direction. “I thought Pidge was meeting you here earlier.”

Sam blinks up at him, as if surprised to be interrupted. “Oh, she did. She left not long ago to get back to her lab; I’m just...here,” he sighs.

“Oh.” Lance knows that feeling, too. This Pidge doesn’t mean to hurt anyone; she’s just straightforward, focused. Sometimes the things she says without thinking can be good, but sometimes not. How quickly she moves on to the next thing on her list can hurt, too. “I uh...mind if I join you?”

Sam gives him a brittle smile. “Of course not.”

Lance slides onto the bench across from him and eats in silence at first. Sam seems more comfortable going back to staring off somewhere, and for a while that’s best for both of them.

“Katie told me about your run-in this morning.”

Lance freezes with a bite of waffle halfway to his mouth. His hand falls back to the table. “She knew,” he says quietly. “I mean I should have known she knew; we kind of all...knew, I guess. I know you did…” He trails off and winces when he realizes he’s rambling.

“Sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this whole thing is for you; I don’t want to add to that. Just...ignore me.”

“I brought it up.” Sam leans over his arms on the table. “Lance, when I told you you were family, I meant it. That doesn’t just apply to raiding my refrigerator during midnight gaming sessions with my daughter. You can talk to me. Or I hope you feel like you can, anyway.”

Lance manages to answer this time; he couldn’t a week ago. “Thank you…”

“Besides,” Sam says. “Who else am ‘I’ going to talk to out here? No one other than you kids...no one else on this ship cares about her as much as I do.” He winces. “You’re her family too. You understand.”

“I...yeah. Yeah. You can talk at me as much as you want.”

***

There are a couple of hours of downtime before the mission, and Lance isn’t sure what to do with them. He heads back to his quarters, thinking maybe he should take Allura’s advice and try to get some more rest, but when he rounds the corner Keith and Hunk are outside his door as if they were looking for him.

“There he is…” Keith says.

“Guys? What are you doing? Where have you been, anyway?” Both of them are in rumpled uniforms. “You don’t look much more awake than me..”

“We’re definitely not,” Hunk snorts. “Anyway, come on; you need to see something.”

“Like what?”

They drag him to Hunk’s workshop, where no fewer than five computers are working and bits of disemboweled technology are strewn everywhere. He recognizes a few small pieces from the planet where Pidge was poisoned.

“What have you been doing in here?”

Hunk shrugs. “Trying to decipher as much as we can from the chips and stuff we managed to grab from that planet before we had to high-tail it back to the lions. And I’m telling you even with MY skills and Pidge’s translation algorithms it has NOT been easy, but…”

Keith sighs. “Remember what I said? Back in the infirmary?”

“Not really; there’s kind of been a lot going on.”

“About...why a civilization might have tried to create something that would do what that toxin did to Pidge.”

Lance blinks, but he can’t remember anything specific. He’s just...too tired. He shakes his head. “I don’t, what?”

“That maybe it wasn’t a weapon. Maybe they were trying to do it to themselves.”

Lance makes a face. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

“The Vulcans purposefully created a society where they suppressed all emotion the majority of the time…” Keith trails off at they stare at him. “What?”

Hunk snickers. “Okay, A) they’re fictional, and B) you watched Star Trek?”

“My dad had a child with an alien; what else was he going to watch with me!”

“Okay, guys?” Lance asks tiredly. “As much as I’d love to debate Kirk or Picard—”

“Kirk. Obviously,” Keith huffs.

“Mullet, my brain is literally going to explode if you don’t stop.”

Hunk makes waving motions to get their attention. “Yeah. Could we not explode Lance? Okay listen. Actually, from what we’ve been able to decode, I think this species may have been telepathic.”

***

“Telepathic?” Allura says. Half a varga later and they’ve dragged her to the workshop to go over it all again.

“Yeah,” Hunk sighs. “The details we’ve been able to make out are sketchy, but it’s like...they were trying to stop war from happening or something. They...fused their science and their telepathy and...made this stuff. Somehow.”

Lance’s stomach is twisting with anxiety. There’s more to it than that--pieces of detail here and there Hunk and Keith pointed out to him earlier. Failed versions of the experiment. Mentions of the wars that led to it. The thought processes of those behind it. Even after everything that had happened, to plan to do that to their own people...

“Sorry, reading alien languages isn’t really my specialty,” Hunk is telling Allura. “If you and Pidge helped we could probably get more of it, but we wanted to find out if any of this stuff was useful to begin with.”

Allura leans over the desk, studying the strewn data pads. “It’s all right, Hunk. This is helpful already; it’s only...now I’m concerned. Telepathy does not necessarily mean magic, but it could. And that might explain how the toxin survived thousands of years. But in either case, what they seem to be saying here about their telepathy...using it to fuel the experiment…”

“It means it might not be just a medical or mental problem that needs to be fixed,” Lance says with a wince. “Doesn’t it?”

“Correct…” Allura rests a hand on his arm briefly. “But I will still try tomorrow, as we’ve planned. This does not have to mean that helping Pidge will be more difficult. I am somewhat concerned because it may, but this does not mean it has to.”

***

“You seem distracted.”

Lance sighs and punches up another scan display to be sure the data is recording correctly and they’re on the course Pidge plotted for them. Behind him, Pidge is cross-legged on the floor of Red’s cockpit with her computers.

“Because I am,” he says. “I mean, if I’m gonna do it I guess this is a good mission to do it on. Pretty straightforward. Collect the samples. Scan the...stuff. Anyway.” Lance squints out Red’s front dash at the gas giant and the colorful nebula that surrounds it. Coran had been going on about it having some interesting properties or something.

“I used to get so excited every time we saw something like this. Like...when I first got into the Garrison I felt like I was never really sure I’d make it through the program and ever get to go to space in the first place, and then I was seeing stuff like this every day. Now I’m just...it’s almost like it doesn’t matter. Is that bad?”

He glances back at Pidge, who raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re not the best person to be asking that right now, I know.”

She shrugs. “It’s perfectly normal for the human brain to become accustomed to certain things.”

“Yeah, but...nevermind.” He sighs. Maybe it’s because he’s still anxious about tomorrow. But she knows, now, and she’s agreed, but of course she isn’t…

“Lance?”

He doesn’t mean to flinch. But the way she says his name is as close to normal as she’s sounded since all of this began.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you all right?” It’s not asked in the same way she would usually ask it. It’s a mechanical question. Habit.

“Yeah. I mean...no. No exactly.” He lets out a breath. “Hey. Did you…? Did you mean what you said this morning?” The ache in his gut twists, asking him why he’s asking that. Does he just want to hurt MORE? But…

“I have no reason to lie to you,” Pidge says, barely looking up from her screens.

He swallows, even as a strange warmth floods through him. “Then...I mean how do you know that? How you felt, I mean. Before this happened. What’s…? What’s that like?”

Now she picks her head up, thoughtful. “I don’t know that I could explain it to you; you don’t have an adequate frame of reference.”

“Humor me.”

She goes quiet for a moment. “My memories aren’t impaired,” she says, slowly. “Of course I remember having feelings. And why I had them. But thinking about them now, I can be objective. I don’t have an emotional reaction to remembering the reactions I had then. I don’t know if that’s helpful.”

“A little, maybe. But anyway, you’re still okay with Allura fixing it?”

“It’s what’s best for Voltron.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“For me, it does,” Pidge says. “That’s also part of it. What matters to me, without emotion as a factor, is what is objectively better for the most people.”

Lance sighs. “You matter too, Pidge. Even Spock figured that one out eventually.”

“Isn’t it true that you would prefer for me to be the way I was?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Pidge is quiet for a moment. She goes back to her computers, and Lance thinks that might be it until she speaks up again.

“Then I want that as well.”

Lance looks back, attention pulled away from his scans again. “What?”

She isn’t looking at him, but she elaborates. “Or perhaps I should say I’m aware that I should. If my past feelings are any indication, I would have wanted that. If I were to accept your premise that my personal opinion on the matter is also important—which I am not saying I have accepted—I would have to concede that I should want this change corrected as well.”

Lance smiles weakly. “Well that’s something, I guess.”

His Pidge is in there. Somewhere.

***

“Hey, man, did you sleep at ALL last night?” Hunk asks.

Lance thinks about lying, but his friend’s hand is at his back, pressing in and warm, and he doesn’t have the heart to do it. “I uh...no. Not even a little.”

He’s afraid he looks it, too. His meticulous routine has gone by the wayside since the accident. He ran a comb through his hair this morning and his uniform is technically clean, but he doesn’t want to guess how large the bags under his eyes might be.

He feels cold and achy with exhaustion. Like reality isn’t real. But maybe, in a little while, everything will make sense again.

They’re all here. Crowded into a room in the infirmary in case anything goes wrong. Allura and Pidge on the edge of the examination bed. Sam at his daughter’s side and Shiro beside his old friend. Coran, Keith, Hunk, Veronica...they’re all here. Allura started a few minutes ago and she warned them it might take a while and…

Waiting is hard.

Hunk rubs Lance’s back as if trying to massage away the exhaustion, maybe just because none of them really have anything to do anyway. Lance is almost afraid he’ll fall asleep on his feet if Hunk keeps it up, but it’s nice. And If it keeps Hunk distracted, well. He’s not gonna take that away from him.

A few more minutes, and Hunk is just clinging to him. Probably as anxious as he is.

Allura opens her eyes. “I...I know what it is.”

She doesn’t look happy about it. Why doesn’t she look happy?

“Allura?” Sam asks.

She swallows. Her fingers have not left Pidge’s temples, and the soft blue glow hasn’t died away, but it dims as she redirects some of her concentration to talk to them.

“It’s...it isn’t a physical problem. Some of it may be manifesting physically in the form of the clouded areas we’ve seen on scans, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is telepathic. Hunk and Keith’s findings were correct...somehow this species was able to infuse telepathy and quite possibly magic into a physical toxin.”

Sam shifts closer to Pidge. “What does that mean…?”

No…

“It means...I don’t have the tools needed to fix this. I-I have magic, but I am not a true telepath. I know enough to nearly understand what is wrong...to find the telepathic barrier that’s been put in place, but...I can’t remove it. Not alone.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Lance says. “You can do this. I know this isn’t Voltron, but you can do it. You...you always can…”

“Lance, it isn’t about power, or believing. I don’t have the right ‘type’ of power.” She looks at Sam, too, and Pidge, who has opened her eyes. “I am so sorry...perhaps if we found a powerful enough telepath…”

Lance doesn’t realize he’s swaying backwards until Hunk’s arm is pressing into his back again, keeping him upright.

“Easy, buddy…” Hunk says quietly. His voice is tight, and Lance doesn’t blame him. His head is spinning.

“Thank you, for trying,” Sam is saying. He sounds sincere, but dull. Pained.

“Wait,” Allura says suddenly. “There is one thing I may be able to do now. If Pidge will allow it.”

“What?” Pidge asks.

“I...Lance may be right. I may not be able to remove the barrier because I am not a telepath, but I do have magic. I do have a certain amount of power, and it counts for something. I may be able to...lift the edge, for lack of a better term. Temporarily negate the effects.” She winces. “Very temporarily. Only for a few moments, most likely. But…”

The room seems to take a collective breath at that.

Pidge shrugs slightly. “I’ll allow that if anyone wants it.”

Of course they do. They all do. But Lance leaves it her father to say so. Allura nods and nudges for Pidge to shift to face out on the edge of the infirmary bed. Allura shifts back, carefully changing the position of her fingers without entirely breaking some kind of contact, so that she’s reaching around Pidge’s head from the back instead of the front.

“It will be easier for the others this way,” Allura says, when Pidge looks at her quizzically.  

They settle, and Allura and Sam are already crying silently before Allura even does anything else. Lance isn’t sure how he’s breathing.

Pidge closes her eyes as the glow from Allura’s hands brightens again. As Allura closes her own to concentrate. But Lance can still see the moment when something changes. When Pidge’s face scrunches in confusion and then a kind of pain.

Her first breath after that is a sob. “Dad…?” Her eyes fly open and she’s reaching out for Sam. “Dad…! Oh god, oh god…!” he pulls her in closer, wrapping her up in his arms as tight as it looks like he can without breaking Allura’s hold on her temples.

“Katie…”

“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not, Katie.”

“I-I don’t want to be like that anymore! I’m not ME, I...i-it’s so wrong…” She sniffs into his coat. “I love you, Dad. I love all of you…”

“We know.” Sam stands back from her to let the others close. Shiro, Hunk, even Keith goes in for a quick hug, while they can, while Lance is rooted where he stands trying to breathe.

His face is already wet. Of course it is. By the time Pidge finds him and meets his eyes he’s crying, and he really wishes he could have done better but he can’t. He can’t do it. He’s shaking and he can’t help that, either. Not even when she reaches out first from where she sits, and takes his hand.

“Lance…”

“Pidge,” he gasps.

Her eyes are wide with the fear of how little time they have now. “Kiss me.”

Lance doesn’t have time to question her. Or to think about the fact that Sam and Allura and Shiro and the others are there and looking at them. He ducks forward, cupping her face with his free hands and pressing his lips to hers. Uncertain at first, but she tugs him in closer by the front of his shirt.

He sobs against her cheek when the kiss has ended. “We’re not giving up. I-I’ll never…”

“I know,” Pidge whispers.

Lance all but stumbles backward, giving Sam the space to have another moment before Allura has to stop. Before she can’t do it anymore.

“I love you,” Pidge is saying to Sam again. “Please...please t-tell Mom, and Matt. I...just in case I-I can’t...I…”

“Katie…” Sam leans down to look into her eye, taking her shoulders in his hands. “Katie, listen to me. Love isn’t just a feeling. Remember that. It’s a choice. Even if you can’t have these flighty things we call emotions, you can still choose to care for someone - to...to count their well-being as important, or to protect them or...you see?”

“I-I do right now; I hope I will when—“ She cuts off in a sob. “Dad, I’m scared.”

Sam pulls her in again, and Allura is trembling. Running out of energy. Pidge buries her face in her father’s jacket.

Allura all but collapses when she lets go. Coran is there to catch her. Faintly Lance thinks he should have been there, too, but he feels like he might collapse, himself. Hunk is crying beside him, but it’s still his friend keeping him upright, really.

Pidge is the only one of them who doesn’t look upset, of course. As she sits up and unburies her face. She looks around at them all her eyebrows go up.

“I’m the cause of all this. I should apologize.”

Sam sobs quietly and wraps himself around her again. She doesn’t bother to return the embrace this time, but at least she doesn’t seem to have anything against it. “No...it’s not your fault.”

Lance doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hunk is still crying and Keith looks unsure, too. Shiro is looking at them. All of them. Probably trying to decide who might need him more, because that’s just Shiro, but right now Lance...can’t.

He starts to back away from everyone and Hunk calms enough to ask after him. “Lance? Man?” he asks weakly.

“I-I’m just...gonna…” He turns for the door, and something about the movement hurts. In his head. How long since his head started hurting again? Or did it really ever stop?

He reaches out for the doorframe, suddenly dizzy. He knows his other hand goes to press at his head and he can vaguely hear one or two of the others calling his name, but they’re so far away now…

Then the floor is getting very close very fast, and someone is grabbing at him, but everything goes black before Lance can find out who.

Read Chpt 6 >>

[lazyfox411]

Out of the Woods

this awesome little piece is a collab with my bestie @hastalalaterkeith7152!!!! Awesome job buddy :) go check out her blog guys!!!!

Summary: Lance is going through a breakup. Keith is running for his life. As fate would have it, their lives intertwine very quickly.

“I hate you and I'm leaving and nothing you say can stop me!”

“Good! I wouldn’t want to stop you!”

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. Lance jabbed a finger at the end call button on his phone. He wanted nothing more than to roll down the window and throw it across the parking lot. Why did he have to say those things? Of course he wanted to stop her. He loved her. But she had just become another part of his past, all with one phone call. It was becoming a pattern. Everyone left him.

“Why does everybody have to leave?” he mumbled into his hands.

As he reached for the dashboard to turn up the heat, fingers shaking against the cold, Lance picked out a sound over the thrum of the car’s engine. A loud slapping, feet pounding on wet pavement. The bright lights of the car interior flicked on as the passenger door was yanked open and someone leapt in.

It was a total stranger. Lance had never seen him before, he was sure. He would have remembered the wide, striking eyes, such a deep blue they were almost violet, framed by a mane of thick raven black hair. The stranger’s face was flushed, and his chest heaved with exertion.

Before Lance could utter a single word, the stranger yelled, “Drive.”

A pair of headlights flashed in the rear-view mirror and a horn blared. Lance kicked the car into gear and slammed on the gas before the offending vehicle could slam straight into his bumper. Dirt and rocks stirred under the tires and flew in the air behind them as the car sped out of the lot and onto the main road. He thought better of slowing for the red light, instead speeding through the deserted intersection as the car behind him got steadily closer. It was early in the morning, leaving the streets vacant and easier to maneuver.

The little red needle of the speedometer ticked far past the posted limit, and every instinct inside Lance told him to stop, pull over, get this guy out of his car. He didn't need to be wrapped up in whatever this was. His heart beat like the hooves of a racehorse going full tilt, adrenaline flooded his veins with the rev of the car engines. He looked in the mirror to see the other car still on his tail. He gunned the engine.

Why was he doing this? His girlfriend wouldn’t like him doing this. But she’d left. No one cared what he did anymore.

Lance kept his attention to the road but spared a glance at the stranger in the passenger seat. His thin frame suggested he was still young, not much older than Lance himself, repeatedly twisting his head to look over his shoulder at the car chasing them. His pale skin glimmered with sweat, and the whites of his eyes shone when he caught Lance looking at him.

“Take the highway,” he told Lance, pointing to the fast approaching entry ramp.

“Why?” Lance demanded. He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he was.

“Just do it.” The guy’s voice was gruff, the sort of voice that commanded and didn't leave room for objection. The kind of voice that was dangerous.

Lance’s blood ran cold. He might have imagined it, but he thought he felt something press against his side, prompting him to weigh his options in the short distance to the ramp. He decided to follow the order, white knuckled grip shifting on the steering wheel as he pulled onto the highway.

The speedometer rose as high as Lance dared to let it. Maybe a police officer would catch him before he lost control of the car and then he could leave this whole crazy situation to the cops. Maybe the car would break down first. Maybe he would break down.

They were still being pursued, but the other vehicle didn't seem to be gaining any ground. Trying to put as much distance between himself and the crazies that were after him, Lance put on his turn signal and zoomed past the few other cars that were in front of him.

“Did you seriously just put your blinker on? This is a car chase! Haven’t you seen any of the Fast and the Furious movies?”

“Well, since I’m breaking almost every single road law right now, I figure I might as well lessen the risk of my bank account’s imminent death. You know, if we live.”

“We’re gonna live. Stop complaining.”

“Stop complaining? You-”

Lance pressed himself firmly against the back of the driver’s seat, taking deep breaths through his nose. Fighting with this stranger was getting them nowhere.

“Okay,” Lance breathed. “Okay. Who the heck are you, what are you doing in my car, and who are they?” He jerked a thumb behind his head. He had lost track of who was chasing them after passing a string of cars, but he knew they were still back there somewhere.

The stranger sighed, as if he'd been dreading this very moment his whole life. “I’m Keith,” he mumbled. The assertive, fiery attitude from seconds earlier was gone. His head was down, bangs hanging in his face, fingers tapping relentlessly on the armrest of his seat.

“Oh, yeah, that’s very helpful,” Lance retorted after several moments of silence. “Thanks, man, glad we could clear that up.”

The stranger, Keith, scoffed. “You asked.”

“I asked a couple other questions, too, so if you want me to keep driving, you'd better start talking.”

More silence answered. Lance groaned and rolled his eyes, only to feel the wheel being wrenched to the left underneath his hands.

“Eyes on the road, idiot,” Keith snarled, his slender hand guiding the car back to the center of the road and away from the ditch.

Lance’s eyes narrowed as he leveled a glare down the expanse of highway. “Explanation,” he ordered. “Now.”

Keith’s knee bounced up and down and he chewed his lip. “Those guys chasing us don’t like me,” he began.

               “Yeah, I got that.” Lance felt compelled to cut him off. “You're lucky I’m not thinking straight or else your ass would be way back there on the side of the road.” No one had asked him for that justification, but he felt more in control of the situation now.

Keith growled at the interruption, but continued, “They don’t like me because I kind of might have sort of stolen something from them, and now they want to turn me in, or more likely take care of me themselves.”

Lance’s eyes widened and the pressure on the gas let up slightly. “Turn you in? You mean that I’m trafficking a criminal?” he cried indignantly.

“What? No,” Keith blanched, “I'm not a criminal.”

“You just told me you stole something.” Lance continued to drive, but he didn't feel the same sense of urgency. Maybe it would be best to just pull over and kick this guy to the curb. Then again, what if he hadn't imagined that poke in the ribs?

“It isn’t like that,” Keith insisted. “I'm not the bad guy. I guess I just got in with the wrong crowd. I made a mistake. Haven’t you ever made a mistake in your life?”

Lance opened his mouth. He paused. He thought of the phone call.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I have.”

“Will you help me fix my mistake?” Keith asked.

Lance looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what was going on in his head. He was frantically craning his neck to see behind them, and both of his hands were in his lap, which meant that, no, he wasn’t holding a weapon to Lance’s side. It must have just been his imagination. He met Keith's eyes again, and the guy’s face looked so similar to one he had seen countless times before, the one he loved, the one he wished he could see right now.

This guy wasn’t dangerous, Lance decided. He was just scared. Maybe someone had left him, too.

Lance barely hesitated before he said, “Alright.”

Keith didn’t give any indication he heard, instead moving on to their current predicament. “They had some sort of sports car. It was a weird colour,” he added, “almost purple.”

A glance in the rear-view mirror held no purple sports cars.

“Maybe we lost them?” Lance said hopefully. He wasn’t sure how much more reckless driving his old Chevrolet could take.

Keith shook his head. “Not likely. These guys won’t quit.”

Lance’s reluctant mumble of agreement was cut off by a squealing of tires.

“Shit!” he screeched, the sole of his shoe connecting with the brake pedal to avoid ramming into the purple sports car that shot in front of them. He wasn’t fast enough. The front end of his Chev clipped the rear of the sports car. Metal clashed, glass shattered, and engines whined as both cars were thrown off course. Lance fought with the wheel to keep his steady. It didn’t work.

The car spun out of control and hurtled towards the side of the highway. Lance heard Keith shriek beside him and he did the same as the car left the road with a sickening thud. Tall grass brushed the sides of the car as it bounced along the rough ground and the two boys inside were tossed around helplessly, waiting for it to stop.

Crash. All Lance saw was the white of the airbag that flew in his face. His body snapped forward and he flailed to find something to hold on to. He heard Keith curse, then all went silent.

Lance groaned. His head was spinning. He sat up with a sharp inhale at the ache that shot up his spine. Blearily, he blinked his eyes open, scanning, assessing, where was he and why? The foggy haze lifted from his mind when he heard Keith groan beside him.

“Keith,” he panicked, “hey man, are you okay?”

No answer.

“Talk to me,” Lance pressed.

“Dude, what the hell,” Keith grunted hoarsely, “who taught you to drive?” There was a nasty gash on his forehead, but he seemed otherwise alright.

"Alright, guess that answers that question."

"Ugh," Keith groaned and rubbed his head, wincing as he brought his hand down to see crimson blood covering it. "Well, with any luck, the crash knocked them out.”

Lance paled at the sight of the tree sandwiched in his windshield. No way this old car was driving anywhere any time soon. He looked over, still dizzy and disoriented, and decided the purple blob close by was the other car.

“Assholes! You wrecked my car!” Shouts rang out, and they weren’t happy.

"Yeah, our luck's run out. Looks like we aren't out of the woods yet."

Lance shouldered his door open. As soon as he stepped into the night air he was checked to the ground by a massive boulder. He soon realized the boulder was a man, a very angry man, towering over him like a bull about to attack. Lance struggled to catch his breath, still reeling from the impact. He sent a poorly aimed kick to defend himself. His foot hit something soft and fleshy and he heard a cry, then the guy’s big disgusting face was in his, muttering, “You’re gonna regret that.” Light from the moon glinted off something shiny in the man’s hand.

He’s got a gun, Lance thought in agony. He clenched his eyes shut, expecting the worst. What he got could only be described as a battle cry, and the weight of the man on top of him disappeared. Lance scrambled to his feet to see Keith rolling on the ground with his attacker.

“Run,” Keith yelled, “I’m right behind you.”

Lance didn't need to be told twice. His head was pounding, and he was pretty sure the stars he saw weren’t the ones that were in the sky. At this point, he couldn’t tell which way was up or down, but he made his feet move somehow, away from the ruined vehicles and into the woods that ran along the highway.

His back hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt, but worst of all was his heart. What had he gotten himself into? None of this would have happened if not for that stupid phone call.

Footsteps sounded next to him, and he heard Keith ask if he was alright.

“Less talking, more running,” Lance huffed.

They were still being chased. A loud bang shook Lance’s eardrums and he realized too late that it was a gunshot. A sharp pain radiated through is shoulder, adding to the current pain in his back as the bullet ricocheted within the joint. His legs gave out from under him, and he went down, the exhaustion and agony making any movement on his own impossible. A pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders, causing the teen to convulse from the dull throb of pain. Moments later and the gun was pointed in his face. He was caught.

Lance was hauled to his feet, and he knew his captors were saying something to him, but he didn't care. He watched Keith, still running, arms pumping, away from the gunmen. Away from Lance. He was leaving.

“Keith,” Lance called. No, pleaded. He was begging now. He didn't want to be in the hands of these people. This wasn’t his penance.

Keith faltered, steps slowing as he turned to look back. Lance caught a glimpse of the sorrow in his eyes, but it didn't make him feel any better when Keith decided to just keep going, as if Lance had never existed in the first place.

“Everyone leaves,” Lance whispered before he was dragged away.

[jewishaxelwalker]

Driving Faster, Windows Down

It’s that Lyft driver AU I said I’d write back in 2017, finally finished after 10 months. Also available on AO3.

It was an abnormally slow Friday night.

Axel’d been driving around aimlessly for a while, patiently waiting to be pinged for a fare, but no one was biting. Keystone had a good public transit system, and its people were abnormally obsessed with cars, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t tourists out there that’d rather take a Lyft than a taxi. Maybe they just hadn’t made the switch from Uber yet. Like come on, read your Facebook sidebar sometime.

His phone made a noise, and Axel jumped. It was just Joey calling, so he put him on speaker.

“You’re on with Ron.” He deadpanned, and on the other end of the line, Joey snorted.

“Dead night?”

“I’d get more action in a graveyard, dude.”

Joey laughed out loud, and Axel pulled into a Shell station. No need to roll and waste when he wasn’t getting fares to fill his gas tank. He and Joey chatted for a bit about the usual junk; Axel’s online classes were inane, Joey’s brother was still bugging him about moving to Gotham so he could use him as a free babysitter (”Seriously dude, how the hell is your niece so cute? Jack is as pug-ugly as they come.”), Kesha’s Instagram feed, the Combines having yet another fantastically losing season-

And then his phone pinged with a ride request. Three blocks away. Single passenger, some shitty little motel not a mile from the airport.

“Gotta go, man. I think I’m about to be some flight attendant’s ride of triumph.” He hated the other term. Getting laid was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, sweet. If she’s hot and heading to Gotham, I’ll be on the next flight.” Axel shook his head, switching the bluetooth back to his Google Play. Hitting on customers was how Joey’d gotten dismissed from his last two jobs. He loved his best friend, but thinking with his dick was gonna get Joey killed someday.

And failing to pay attention to who he was picking up was going to get Axel killed. He didn’t even glance at the passenger notification until he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. He was expecting a blonde Cindy or a brunette Sharona, not a redheaded Owen.

“Axel?” The guy asked as he climbed into the back seat, and Axel swallowed hard.

“The one and only.” Owen grinned, and there was a slight chance Axel gunned it a bit too hard on the way out of the parking lot.

Axel liked driving for Lyft because he got to meet a lot of new and interesting people he could subject to his musical taste. Yeah, some of his passengers were hotter than others, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be getting the Indie Girl Kitchen treatment.

“You got any preference, or can I just put on whatever?” He asked, flicking through his playlists as they waited at the light. Owen frowned.

“Maybe something chill? I’ve been stressing out of my mind for the last two hours, and I don’t want to look like a psycho when I get there.” Axel immediately flicked over to artists. Fuck the playlists, Owen was getting The Valley. Yeah it was a breakup album, but it was also the best thing he’d heard all year and it relaxed him like nothing else.

Owen sank back into his seat as the album started. Axel wondered if he should interrupt what was clearly going to be a pivotal moment in his life with small talk, but Owen beat him to it.

“Is it a slow night or something? You were there less than three minutes after I called for a ride.” Axel shrugged, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Owen was watching him intently.

“It’s always slow in this town but yeah, tonight was dead. Pretty much the only people that use Lyft are teenagers with no cars and tourists. Driving is a huge thing in Keystone.” His eyes wandered to the mirror again, but Owen was looking out the window now. “Where you from?” The accent had a northeastern touch to it, but Axel couldn’t quite place the state.

“Oh, uh, Gotham. But if tonight goes good, I’m probably gonna end up moving here.” Owen cut himself off by sticking his index finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail. “Hey, can I like, vent something? Taxicab Confessions style?” Axel nodded, not wanting to interrupt what was bound to be an excellent bit of wordvomit. “So uh, my foster mom died two weeks ago.”

“Holy shit man, I’m sorry-“ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, berating himself. No more outbursts. “But go on.” Owen bit his lip, staring down at his hands.

“My foster mom died two weeks ago. I mean, I’m 23, I’ve been on my own for a few years now, but we still kept in touch. She raised me from when I was 8. She was my mom. I was in her will and everything. What she left me was, uh, well aside from some money and a few of her things, she left me the ability to find my dad. My biological dad. He’s been living in Keystone for like ten years now, and she tracked him down ages ago when she found out that he’d been looking for me. She told him that I was healthy and happy and not to fuck up my life by coming into it unless he meant to stay and raise me.” They were lucky for the traffic. Some Kinda Wonderful slid into You Can Cry Tomorrow, and Owen cleared his throat.

“I can turn this off, if it’s bothering you.” Axel offered, but Owen just shook his head.

“No, I like it. Anyway, I got in contact with him last week. He told me he’d book me a flight as soon as he could, because he’d been waiting years to meet me. Which leads to today. I told him not to pick me up at the airport, that I’d meet him for dinner somewhere, and I’m kinda freaking out? I don’t even know what he looks like. I mean, what if we look nothing alike, and he loses it because I look like the mom I’ve never met? What if we look a lot alike and it turns out I’m gonna age like shit? And those are just the petty, superficial fears!  Like, what if his family has a history of cancer or depression or erectile dysfunction or something?”

Axel started when he realized that Owen’s question didn’t seem to be rhetorical. 

“I think it might be a good idea to just breathe, Owen. Start with the simple stuff, like how you both probably loved Pacific Rim, then get down to the medical histories.” Owen was looking at him again, his mouth quirked in a crooked little grin. “What?”

“I totally loved Pacific Rim. I lost my shit when Cherno Alpha got taken down by Leatherback.” Axel could fall in love with this man. He could. Owen wasn’t protesting The Valley and remembered details about Pacific Rim. It didn’t hurt that he was hotter than the surface of Mercury.

He selfishly hoped that the traffic would keep up the glacial pace. It didn’t, of course, and they were at the restaurant less than a song later.

“I’m sure your dinner will go fine. And if it doesn’t, just call for a Lyft. I’m pretty sure I’m one of like six people driving tonight for the whole city, you can vent again.” Which wasn’t an exaggeration, Lyft just had not taken off in Keystone the way it had in places like Gateway City and Metropolis. Sometimes when he was strapped for cash, Axel crossed the bridge into Central and got fares there. They had a different center of industry, after all. Owen was smiling again, actually smiling, and it felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And, thanks man. For the ride and. Yeah.” Owen reached out, snagging his hand and giving it a little squeeze. He left behind a $10 bill. “Hope I get you again sometime.”

After Owen left, Axel lurked in the area until after midnight. No pings ever came. It was disappointing, but it also meant that Owen and his father had peacefully reconnected, which was nice. He turned off his active status and drove home.

***

A few weeks passed and slowly, Axel began to forget about his handsome passenger. School let out for summer, which meant fares by the dozen. His grades came back eventually, and as he’d expected, he’d aced everything. Joey’s brother finally wore his best friend down.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving to Jersey.” He complained one night while they packed up Joey’s half of their apartment. Jack had paid Joey’s part of the rent for the next six months, more than enough time for Axel to find a new roommate, but still.

“Moving back to Jersey,” Joey reminded him. “And me neither. But Janice has had to travel a lot for work lately, and they don’t want Becky to be raised by some nanny.” 

“You better come back to visit.” Axel grumbled, shoving the contents of one of Joey’s drawers into a box a bit harder than necessary. “So I can show off how awesome my new roommate is.”

Joey went quiet, the clacking of DVD boxes coming to a slow halt. “You already found someone?” Axel sighed.

“Dude. I haven’t even put out an ad yet. I’ve got six months of walking around naked without someone yelling at me to get some damn pants on to savor, first.”

They laughed, and Joey pulled him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Ax. Now c’mon, my flight is in two days, and we’ve still gotta get all this shit to UPS.”

At least one upside to this moving business, Jack was footing the bill for everything. Which meant that Joey’s few boxes of possessions that wouldn’t fit into his plane luggage were making it to Gotham in style.

All too soon, it was time to make their way to the airport.

“Don’t let the new guy do anything weird to my room.” Joey said. “And you lay down the fuckin’ law in regards to all prog rock.”

“Yes to Yes, Rush can suck dicks in hell.” It had been literally the first thing Joey had said to him two years ago, when he’d shown up at their apartment, looking to rent the other room. “You call me when the plane lands, okay? Like, from the runway.” They hugged again, and Axel felt his spine pop a little when Joey lifted him off the ground.

As soon as Joey was through his gate, Axel turned his Lyft notifications back on. He was already at the airport, after all, and it wasn’t like Jack was throwing in money for groceries. Within seconds of making it to his car, the app pinged with a ride request. The name made him blink, a grin spreading out onto his face.

Owen M is requesting a ride.

He met Owen back at the same terminal he’d just left, taking note of the pair of huge canvas duffel bags. The dinner with his dad must have gone amazingly well.

“Axel!” Owen was all smiles when he hopped out of the car to help him with his bags. “Man, you really are the only Lyft driver in this city, huh?” Axel snorted.

“Nah, my roommate needed a ride. He’s moving back to Gotham, to be closer to his family.”

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

When they stood side by side to shove everything into the trunk, Axel noticed that he was a good foot shorter than Owen. Yowza. 

Don’t pull a Joey, you’re good at this driving shit.

As they left the airport and got onto the highway, Axel wondered what he should say. Should he ask about Owen’s flight? The route he was taking wasn’t leading to the motel, but to a residential area. He was probably going to be staying with his dad while he looked for an apartment. In the end, it was Owen who drew first blood.

“I looked up that album you were playing when I got back home, it was really killer." 

I need to call my mom, because I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.

“Yeah?” He said instead, feigning casual. “Which songs did you like best?”

“Wellll...the cover of that Donna Lewis song was somehow earworm-ier than the original, but Blue Heaven Midnight Crush definitely did the most for me. The rest of the songs were so sad, when you actually listened to the lyrics. But that one, it’s so hopeful. I like songs like that.” Giving random strangers mixtapes was weird, right? It was definitely weird, calm down. “Oh, so in case you couldn’t tell, I live here now. My dad is putting me up until I find a place of my own.”

Thank god, a change of subject.

“You shouldn’t have too much trouble, plenty of people out there are looking for roommates.” A glance in the rear view mirror showed that Owen was watching him intently. “What?”

“Didn’t you just ship your roommate off to Gotham?”

Bad idea bad idea bad idea.

“Yeah, well. You could probably find a better part of town to live in-” Owen grinned, and Axel’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough to dent it. “I don’t even need to put out an ad for a couple of months, his half is paid up for a while.”

Mercifully, they soon pulled up in front of an unassuming apartment building not ten blocks from his own. Owen caught his eye in the mirror again, then glanced away.

“Hey, maybe this is weird but, would you mind if I gave you my number? It could be cool to have a local to hang with that isn’t my dad.” As if on cue, a tall-ish, pudgy man with auburn hair rushed out of the building, practically ripping the driver-side rear door open.

“Owen! I got th’ day off after all! Did yeh flight get in early?” The man had an accent that was definitely not from around here.

“This is your local?” Axel asked, eyebrow raised, and Owen laughed.

“He’s lived here for like, a decade. He knows which Denny’s is the good Denny’s, and that’s all that matters.”

“No such thing as a good Denny’s.” Axel and Owen’s father said, practically in unison, and Axel groaned, head thunking to the steering wheel. I’ve been set up.

“Friend of yers, Owen?” The older man asked curiously, looking Axel up and down as he got out and popped the trunk. “Bit young, innit he?”

Axel huffed as he helped Owen drag out one of his insanely heavy duffels. “I’m 20. And what the fuck is in here man, a dead body?”

“Close, it’s the bones of the guy that took me to the airport back in Gotham.” Owen was cheeky, when he wasn’t anxious. That was. Definitely dangerous. “So...your number? That way I can just throw you gas money next time I need a ride somewhere.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Everyone only wants me for my sweet wheels.” Axel replied dryly, but he grabbed a marker from his center console anyway, scribbling his number on Owen’s wrist. Owen grinned down at him as Axel kept hold of his wrist a few seconds longer than necessary, and that’s when his father reasserted his presence. 

“And I’m George!” He said, a bit too loudly to be casual. “Folks called me Digger. And you are, boy that’s bound to be ‘round for tea at some point?” Owen snorted, lips clamped shut to keep from laughing.

“Axel.” He was good at parents, parents always loved him. Other people’s parents, at least. “I’m one of the two Lyft drivers in town. I actually live like, two miles from here.”

That admission sent Digger off on a spiel about some restaurant in the area that had kicked him out last year, and Axel suddenly realized why he’d had a prickling feeling of familiarity this whole time. “I was there for that!” Digger stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw going slack. “Yeah, you got kicked out of Marcela’s at like, one in the morning after you tried to fight the waiter and he totally-” Kicked your ass, Axel didn’t say, but the sentiment hung in the air regardless. “I’m uh. Gonna go. I think I have another ride.”

He didn’t, but it sped up the process of getting Owen’s bags out of his car. Axel drove around aimlessly for a little bit afterwards, his phone off in the passenger’s seat. He only turned it on again once he was in his apartment, and it immediately rang.

“Dude I’ve been calling for like an hour I almost hopped back on the goddamn plane.” Axel sighed, flopping down onto the couch, kicking off his shoes. 

“I miss you too, buddy. How’s that glorious Gotham smog?”

“Like a party in my lungs and everyone’s throwing up. Why was your phone off?” The sigh was deeper this time, and Axel thunked his head against the arm of the couch a few times.

“Remember that guy I told you about, from a month back? Well...” As he spilled out the story, Joey helpfully laughed at him. Multiple times. “Hey, shut up. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of chasing down every warm body that turns my head.”

“Yeah but also unlike me, you’ve dated like, half a person in all the time I’ve known you.” He had a point. “And does it really count as a date if the guy leaves the theater halfway through to-”

“Point taken!” Axel yelped, frowning at the continued buzzing in his ear. “Were you blowing up my texts, too? I’ve got like ten.”

“Don’t look at me, you know my fingers don’t like texting.” It was true, Joey had hands the size of Axel’s head. Which meant- 

“Oh my god he’s been texting me almost this whole time, what do I do.”

“Depends, there an unsolicited dick pic in there?”

“Joey! Also, no.”

Sorry about that, my dad can be...a lot :( But I promise he’s lonely and weird in a good way.

I honestly didn’t think you were 20, btw. I was convinced a fetus had somehow conned its way into the DMV.

That was a joke.

Shit you probably don’t text and drive. Which is good, don’t text and drive.

It’s wild that it’s only like 7pm. My body is convinced it’s later. I mean I know Keystone and Gotham are only an hour apart, but this city goes to sleep earlier.

Do you wanna get something to eat? I don’t start my job until Monday, so I have like three days to kill and I want to explore things.

The city, I mean.

Oh my god I’m just blowing up your phone like some kind of desperate creep I’m so sorry

If on the off chance you haven’t blocked me, I’m walking over to the park we passed on the way to my dad’s place, to bang my head against a tree for a while

“...wow, he’s a loser.” Axel snorted but honestly...yeah, he kinda was.

“He’s a cute loser. And he likes my music.”

“Keeper.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, Joey. I’ve gotta go save some trees.” Just as he was about to hang up, his friend got in one last jab.

“So when he eventually moves in with you next week, turn my room into a game room so I don’t have to think about you two fucking in there.”  There was a click as Joey disconnected, and Axel covered his face with his hands.

***

The park, funny enough, was only two blocks from his house so instead of wasting gas, Axel grabbed a hoodie off the hook by the door and walked over. He was halfway there before he realized that the jacket he was wearing was one of the ones Joey had shrunk in the wash and left behind. Still didn’t fit him right.

By the time he’d made his way past the last few joggers and couples out for a nice little nighttime stroll and spotted Owen, the taller man was fully laying down on a bench near the small playground, messing with his phone. Moments later, Axel’s own phone buzzed.

I’m by the playground, because I’ve knocked down every tree in the park.

“Yeah, I noticed the path of destruction on the way over.” Axel said as soon as he was close enough, and Owen visibly jumped.

“Jesus! I didn’t think you’d get here that fast! Or at all, really. I was pretty sure I’d basically destroyed the chance of you ever wanting to see me again by sending you fifty texts in under an hour.” Axel shrugged, perching on the very edge of the bench until Owen got the message and sat up properly.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. I’ve screwed up at least one thing a day, every day, my entire life. I’m like a unicorn! Of failure.” That caused Owen to laugh, and Axel grinned to himself. “So what caused you to flee into the night this soon after coming to town, huh?”

Owen coughed, looking down at his feet. The playground was covered in tire mulch, and it looked like some of the bits had made their way into his boots. “So uh. As it turns out, my dad has been seeing someone for a while, and it’s serious enough that he wants me to meet her and her kids sometime this week, because they’re probably going to end up moving in together within the year.”

Yikes.

“Wow that is. You weren’t kidding about your dad being a lot, huh?” Owen grimaced. “Don’t tell me it gets better?”

“The woman he’s been seeing is my biological mom."

Well, holy shit.

Owen ended up spilling the story over the course of the next few minutes, about how his dad and mom had dated briefly years ago, she’d gotten pregnant, and her family had forced her to cut off all contact with Digger and put the baby up for adoption...only for her to run off with a man they absolutely hated (but who was, by all accounts, basically the best guy ever) a few years later. She and the other guy had gotten married, she’d given birth to a pair of twins, and then a few years after that, the guy just up and dies on her. She and the kids bounce around the States for a while, finally settling down across the river from her shitty family that, despite everything, still want to be in her life and get to know her sons. She and Digger ran into each other at the supermarket a couple of months before Owen contacted him, and-

“He didn’t even tell you that your mom was back in his life?! Man, that’s about twenty times the legal limit on ‘a lot’.”

“To be fair-” Axel made an angry little noise, and Owen winced. “To be fair, she’s the one who’s scared as hell to meet me. I mean, she was like, your age when she gave me up. Then she just turned around and started another family without bothering to even try and find me. Dad says that Meloni, that my mom, she’s felt guilty for the last 23 years. Because I’ve been out here all this time, becoming a person, and she doesn’t know anything about me.” There was a little hitch in Owen’s voice there, and they both got very still. “Ah, shit. Ah, geez man I’m-”

“Parents ain’t shit sometimes, even when they’re trying their best.” Axel said quietly, reaching over to hold onto Owen’s elbow. “I uh, I’ve kinda been on my own a while, too. I moved in with Joey like, three months after I turned 18. And, and my situation ain’t anything like yours, but I get it, you know?”

Owen propped the elbow Axel wasn’t holding up on his knee, resting his cheek on his closed fist. Go on, then, his eyes seemed to say in the reflection of the dim lights that were flickering on around the playground. Tell me a story, weird boy. 

The summer before his senior year in high school, Axel’s mom found out Axel’s dad was banging one of his coworkers. They filed for divorce later that same month. Dad moved out, and mom and Axel spent the entire school year selling off or hiding anything valuable he might try and take in the divorce proceedings. They sold the house and split the money down the middle. Dad, now living with his coworker (soon to be fiance), told Axel he couldn’t live with him. Mom, who was planning on taking off for middle-of-nowheresville, Iowa to stay with some cousins, told him that he was welcome to come along, but she’d understand if he wanted to stay, as he’d been accepted to a couple of in-state colleges. He couldn’t afford to go to them, but he also didn’t want to leave the only city he’d ever known.

He stayed. He got a million different shitty jobs. He found a good roommate after one or two bad starts. He enrolled in online classes. He managed to save little odds and ends here and there, enough to do some fun shit, like buy the albums he really liked on vinyl like some kinda hipster, and see a couple of movies a month in the theater. He could afford Netflix, so long as Joey paid for their joint Hulu account. He wasn’t living the dream, but he also wasn’t just straight up surviving. He had a life.

“And then one day, I picked up this weird ginger from a shitty motel by the airport, and here we are.”

Owen was quiet for a while, just watching him and processing. Finally, he spoke.

“When do you turn 21?” Axel blinked.

“Uh, April 17th.” Owen scowled. “What?”

“Well this just means you’re gonna need to wait outside or in an alley or something while I buy liquor, because I think we both need a drink right goddamn now.”

***

In the end, Axel managed to convince Owen to just meet him back at his apartment with his booze. The walk from the park to the closest liquor store should take about half an hour for someone who doesn’t know the area and is just going off their phone’s GPS, which gave him a solid hour to turn the half-empty wreck that was his home into something presentable.

Joey was, of course, in hysterics.

“You’re telling me that not only is he coming back to your place after the two of you had a heart to heart in a public park, but he’s planning on bringing alcohol, which you’re actually planning on drinking?! Was it me? Was I the one holding you back from reaching your true potential? I’ve been gone like half a day and you’re already on the track to getting hella laid.” 

“I’m not gonna get laid.” Axel protested, throwing the boxes they’d never gotten around to taking to the homeless shelter into Joey’s room, as well as the small stack of empty pizza boxes from his goodbye party the week before. “We’re gonna watch a movie, I’m gonna try not to hate beer for once, maybe he’ll crash here. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Dude...it took me like a month to get you to tell me the deal about your folks. This guy just levels the right look at you and you’re singin’ like a canary. You’re gonna have one beer and just throw yourself at him.”

“So then I won’t drink, and we’ll just watch the various Jurassic Park movies until we fall asleep.” The couch pillows were shitty, so he grabbed a couple of his own (one which was shaped like BB-8, the other that was shaped like R2-D2) from his room, as well as a blanket from his closet, just in case.

“We don’t have any of the Jurassic Park movies on- oh my god you’re gonna use Netflix.”

“Uh, obviously?” Axel replied, triple checking to make sure that there wasn’t any random embarrassing junk in the living room. “Why?”

“Axel. You’re gonna Netflix and chill. I’m so proud of you, my baby bird is finally leaving his nest.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.” There was a knock on the door, and Axel froze. “I gotta go, he’s here.”

“There should still be condoms under the c-” Hanging up on Joey had never felt so good.

***

“Okay but like, what I wanna know is, if they clocked the T-Rex going like 30 miles an hour in the last movie, and she couldn’t catch a jeep, how come she can’t catch a single one of these people running away from her on foot in this one??? She’s been hunting wild for years, get your head in the game, girl!”

Axel might be a wee smidge drunk.

In his defense, Owen hadn’t come bearing beer, he’d brought whiskey. Whiskey with honey in it, that tasted amazing with the coke he had left in the fridge. He’d had almost an entire Flanigan’s cup already. Next to him on the couch, Owen laughed. He’d lost his boots during the second half of the first Jurassic Park, and currently had his legs slung over the arm, the bottle he was drinking from on the floor. He was using one of Axel’s stupid Star Wars pillows so that his head was propped up enough for him to actually see the TV.

“Jeff Goldblum is a shitty dad.” He said, words muffled a little by the way BB-8 was pressing against his cheek. “Also doesn’t he have like, three kids? I thought he said he had three kids. Where are the other two?”

“Safe, somewhere that’s not an island filled with fucking dinosaurs!” Axel yelled that last part, causing his downstairs neighbor to throw something hard at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mrs. Oberman!” He went to take a long sip from his cup, finding it empty. “Oh...shit...I should probably like. Get some water. You want some water?” His legs buckled as he tried to stand, sending him toppling back down to the couch with a surprised yelp. BB-8 slipped out from under Owen’s head as he laughed at him some more, reaching over to pat Axel on the arm.

“Chill, young padawan. Gimme your cup, I’ll get you some water.” Owen didn’t seem to have any trouble sitting up and walking around, the bastard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Axel demanded, taking his cup back with a frown. Owen just shrugged.

“I’m twice your size and give my liver regular workouts?” A good point. “You wanna pause this hot mess and go to bed?” Axel frowned. It was barely past midnight.

“You gonna be okay getting home? It’s late, and all.”

A look passed over Owen’s face, something that later, after a few aspirin and a shower, Axel would be able to identify as nerves. “I was actually thinking maybe I could...crash here? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, promise.”

“If only all my dates were so nice.” Axel said dryly, then yelped in a very different kind of surprise. “Joking! Okay cool, goodnight!”

But again when he tried to stand, his legs refused to cooperate only this time, he fell directly into Owen’s lap, sitting sideways on his knees like some kinda princess. 

I’d like to die now please.

As though it was his default reaction to everything, Owen laughed.

“Hey hey, I’m not the kinda guy that expects multiple bases on the first date.” He was teasing him. Making fun of him. Awesome. “First base is perfectly fine. I’m honestly just happy to be up at bat.”

Or, maybe not.

“Was this a date?” Axel asked. He couldn’t rightfully tell, but his eyes felt huge. Disney-esque, even. Keep on the lookout for singing bluebirds, and shit. Owen didn’t stop grinning, though he did shake his head.

“I kinda wanted it to be like, the precursor to a date? Hang out, see if there’s more than just that ‘oh shit he’s cute’ vibe. And then my dad had to. Y’know. And it got real heavy real fast and-” Owen snapped himself out of his rambling before he got too far into it. “Anyway. Yeah. You’re cute, and you’re funny, and you’ve got good taste in music and movies. And I wanna know more about you, like what kinda toppings you like on your pizza, and where your ideal road trip destination would be, and what you look like when you get kissed senseless. But like I said,” Owen tilted his head just so, pecking a short kiss on the end of Axel’s nose. All of his freckles felt like they were glowing red-hot. “This wasn’t a date, and I like to think I’m the kinda guy that can wait until the first date to make a move.”

Oh. Oh, good lord. Oh man.

“O-Owen,” Axel started quietly, even as he felt his face get pinker and pinker. “I uh, I like black olives and sausage and extra cheese. And I wanna go to California some day, maybe check out Joshua Tree and Disneyland and LA, but hit the Grand Canyon and Vegas and Four Corners on the way there. And you uh, you already kissed me once, so like, maybe..?” He let out a nervous, helpless little giggle.

Owen snorted.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured, palms hot against Axel’s hips.

“W-Walker.” Axel stuttered, squirming when one of Owen’s thumbs found a ticklish spot on his side.

“Mine’s Mercer.” Owen replied, leaning in and pressing his lips a little too firmly against Axel’s. His scruffy little goatee was itchy, where it rubbed against his chin and lower lip.

Later, Owen would confess that he’d been trying to think of something suave and cool to say before kissing him. That he’d been worried that Axel would laugh at him, or hate the way his mouth felt, or a million other tiny anxieties that crawled through his brain whenever he got the opportunity to be with someone. Later, Axel would confess that he literally had no standards, because this was the first time he’d ever made out with anyone and if you asked him, Owen had done fine.

“Did we Netflix and chill?” Owen would ask the next morning, after they’d fallen asleep on the floor in a tangled heap of blanket and limbs and novelty pillows. And Axel would groan in return, from a combination of the intensity of his hangover, and Joey being right about something.

“Romance is dead.” He moans. And Owen would just laugh, kissing his forehead.

He disagrees.