#and after talking to the other colleague i just burst into tears in the staircase 😭😭

[gardenlilgnome]

mmmmm im so exhausted.

[yunkiwii]

—i miss you even when you're here—

pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, established relationship

wc: ~2.7k

warnings: feeling of abandonment, loneliness, stress, insecurities

⇢ requested by @leihey ♡ i hope this lives up to your expectations!

summary: for seven days y/n has been feeling lonely as her boyfriend spends all his time either at work or thinking about work.

You turn your alarm off without even looking at it, huffing before reaching your arm to the left side of the bed, and the way it lands straight out into the wrinkled sheets with a muffled sound confirms what you expected but still hoped wouldn't happen today - waking up alone.

For the past week Seungmin would get home late to a long asleep girlfriend at their shared bed, and a plate of cold food on the kitchen table. On the other hand, you would wake to an already empty bed and a faint memory of a forehead kiss, one you wondered if it were real or just a lucid dream.

For seven days you have spent your time either at work or alone at home, carefully thinking what meal would cheer up your boyfriend the most after a long stressful day at JYPE, missing the way he would always cut the onions because he knew you were more sensitive than him to the burning feeling in your eyes and would cry easily, missing how the kitchen always felt so small for the two of you to cook together, his hands constantly on your waist as a way to tell you to "scootch over", not wanting to interrupt his singing to tell you verbally.

For seven days you have been cooking alone, cooking for someone you didn't know would show up in time or not. And whenever he did - he didn't - being his presence merely physical, greeting kisses placed on your cheeks, lips and forehead in a mechanical way, a force of habit. For seven days your kitchen felt too big, too quiet and the onions made you cry more than usual.

At the eighth day you couldn't take it anymore, and when you heard the doorknob of your front door creaking, just as you were setting the table - for two -, you had to take three deep breaths, the words you had organized and planned out started to get mixed up in your brain, creating a mess you couldn't control anymore and so, as soon as you see Seungmin entering the kitchen you can only say three words, "I love you."

"I love you too, silly." he chuckles as his lips peck yours quickly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about so desperatly?", he waves his phone, referring to the text you sent him earlier. He didn't look annoyed at you for making him come home earlier than it was usual lately, but he still seemed off, and the bags under his eyes screamed "exhaustion" the same way the marks your tears left on your cheeks did too.

You watch him as he eats, unable to do so too yourself, the lump in your throat growing as you hear Seungmin's muffled voice thanking you for the meal with his mouth full and a light squeeze on your thigh. And you wondered if you were being unfair, if you were being selfish, because he was allowed to be stressed about his work, he was allowed to not be at his best all the time, and it wasn't his fault he had to stay until late at night at work. But it was his fault that he couldn't leave work when he got home, that he couldn't put his phone down and ask how your day was, to just take ten minutes of his day to just be with you, and you only. And you were allowed to miss him, miss his touch, miss the way he held you tightly at the end of the day while you watched the most random tv show together, because it wasn't the show that matter but each other's company.

And, without realizing it, you had already spilled all of this to him before the kitchen dropped dead silent again, and everything went blurry. You couldn't even see his face, not until his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs cleaned your tears as you mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry, I- I just miss you."

"But I'm right here (y/n)...", he pulls your chair closer until your knees touch, taking your hand in his while the other lifts your chin so your eyes meet, "Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I'll get off earlier and pick you up. You'll wear that fancy outfit you've had in your wardrobe for ages, and I'll put on a nice suit and tie. What do you say?"

And in the eighth night you went to bed feeling a little warmer inside, his back turned to you didn't hurt as much now that your hand rested on his side and his shirt was worn by you. Knowing - hoping - that tomorrow will be better, you fall deep into dreamland as soon as you shut your eyes.

However, you couldn't help but to feel abandoned again when, hours later, a cold breeze hits your stomach and arms, making you mumble something in your sleep as you try to recover whatever was blocking that breeze before. One of your hands gets a grip of a soft fabric that seems too heavy to pull back down next to you, leaving your sleepy self whining for the owner of said fabric not to leave again.

"I will be back later, don't forget I'll pick you up for dinner. Go back to sleep now, (y/n)."

But how could you forget about dinner with him when, for the last eight days it was all you were longing for, and for the nineth day it was all you could think about?

Said day passed by slower than ever, an illusion caused by the clear anticipation you felt about the upcoming night. Anticipation addressed by your colleagues at work, who wondered what has sent your head into cloud 9 and your right leg into a fidgeting state, unable to stay still.

These same nervous actions continued at home, the funny feeling in your stomach resembling the very first date you had with Seungmin a few years ago, back when you were still a college student and he wasn't as busy as now. The same thoughts you had that day invading your restless mind again, "What if he doesn't like me (anymore)?", "What if he thinks I am (got) boring?", "What if my outfit doesn't fit?".

With that last thought you rush to your bedroom - but not without tripping on the first step of the staircase - to, in desperate clumsy movements, try out the said outfit you've been wanting to wear for so long, the one Seungmin got you for a "special date" months ago, one that never happened. But it did fit, it fitted better than ever and when you saw your reflection in the mirror even you fell in love with the person in front of you, the one doing little swirls with a stupid smile on her face, the person you doubted to be yourself. And, suddenly, you felt like everything would be alright, everything would go back to normal, maybe things would get even better than before, "there is no way he'll fall out of love for me when I look like this" was your first thought.

But he didn't even seem to notice your appearance, he didn't seem to notice you at all, he simply picked you up at the agreed time with a peck on your lips and one single rose in hand. All he did was drive you - in silence - to the fanciest restaurant in town, leave you alone at the table about three times to pick up the phone - "it's from work, I'm sorry" -, pay for both your meals and drive you back home.

And it took him to hear the quiet sobs you so hardly tried to keep in, while laying as far away as possible from him that you had to secure yourself from falling over the edge, to realize what he had been doing to you, to finally figure out how much he has been hurting you. And in that moment his sobs could be heard too. The realisation and guilt hit Seungmin like a truck and he couldn't move. He couldn't believe how he had let his stress and excessive work load affect you too. He couldn't believe he had reached a point to where he brought work home, one thing he had promised you he would never do. And his chest tights up a bit more when he realises you never got mad at him for breaking his promise, and breathing gets difficult when he faces you - your back.

"(Y/N)...", and your stomach drops five feet down at his cracked, low tone, and "I'm so sorry..." was all he could say before bursting into silent tears once more.

However, you were too hurt to face him, and the burn in your eyes increases when you feel the mattress sink behind you before a warm hand rests on your waist, but you don't push him away.

The nineth night was his the turning point, and Seungmin swore to your asleep self - and to himself - that the next morning would mark a new beginning.

And in the first morning you pretended to be asleep when his hand took a few strands of hair off your face, his lips barely touched your skin and his voice broke your heart, "see you later". And you held your breath until the bedroom door closed and stood still until the front door locked. But it took longer today, and in between these two moments you heard noise in the kitchen, and within a few minutes a nice smell made its way into your hiding place, as if it was trying to lure you to give in and face your boyfriend. But not even your grunting stomach stopped you from waiting to hear his car drive off to get up. And when you did, the curiosity took over you. He never cooks in the morning, and he never leaves this late. Something was changing after all.

Hence, in the first night, you shifted your body to face him when he quietly climbed in bed next to you, your left cheek pressed against your hands as a weak smile greeted the tired boy, "I appreciated the breakfast." Nevertheless, you didn't reach out to pinch his cheek the way you used to, though you had the urge to do so when his own lips drew a smile and his eyes got lost in his cheeks.

In the second morning you didn't pretend to be asleep and you didn't wait for the car to leave. In the second morning you sat at the kitchen table with Seungmin and, because he knew it would take you time to go back to him, he didn't force a conversation, he didn't force skinship, he merely held your hand and squeezed it lightly. And you knew he was trying, you knew he would try and wait until you were ready to trust him again, to give him your heart again.

Day by day you would slowly give him little pieces of you, by sharing the most small and insignificant stories of your day, by letting him hold your hand at night, by sharing earpods with him on the couch when you couldn't fall asleep, by letting him try and do all the things he shouldn't have stopped doing in the first place.

But it took you seven days and seven pieces to trust him with your heart again. Therefore, on the seventh day, as the the sunbeams peaked through the poorly closed shutters and reflected on Seungmin's bare shoulders, you couldn't help yourself from admiring him and, for the first time in seven days, you felt warm inside. The butterflies you used to feel the first times you woke up next to him were back, and were more annoying than ever.

You let yourself study all his features attentively, scanning all his perfect imperfections, letting yourself fall for him all over again - not that you think you ever fell out of love, but rather disconnected from it, and him.

He flinched and mumbled confused words, and you couldn't help but to smile and giggle softly at how silly your sleepy, drooling nonense-speaking boyfriend looked. This time, you gave in to the urge of pinching his cheek tenderly as to not wake him up, and you left your hand resting there as your thumb rubbed his soft skin.

As you were feeling your eyes becoming heavy again, your thumb stopped the movement and your hand slid down a bit. Your body relaxing more and more, until a ticklish feeling pulled you back to the "here and now", just to find Seungmin kissing the palm of your hand with his eyes still closed before pulling you closer to him, making you wince and giggle when his warm breath hit your ear and his raspy voice gave you his "good morning's".

He moved his body sloppily, hitting you with his elbow before comfortably positioning half of his body on top of yours, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he held you tightly by your waist, as if he were afraid you would run away.

"I missed you Seungmin, I missed you even when you were here." Your fingers got lost in his messy hair as you spoke, his grip on you grew tighter and you felt the tears peaking in the corner of your eyes. "You hurt me... and I thought about leaving you before you left me first."

For the first time you were letting him know how you truly felt, for the first time you were opening yourself up to him without any ounce of shame or fear. And this was your turning point. This was the moment you both knew you were back, ready to mend all the wrongs and the scattered pieces of your hearts that were left all around the house. "But everyone makes mistakes. And I know you have been trying, and-", Seungmin shifts his body once more, supporting himself with his hands as he is now hovering over you with his eyes locked in yours, a restless look in his face worried about what you would say next, and suddenly you feel shy, "What I mean to say is, I forgive you. I choose to stay and love you even if my mind won't let me believe that you love me back, I will trust you and your actions. So please don't let my mind trick me again, don't give it reasons to doubt your love for me unless you don't feel it anymore."

You pull his hair back waiting for a reaction, leaving your hand to rest behind his neck ready to pull him in for a kiss, the first real kiss in sixteen days. But you wait for what it feels to be an eternity, until he breaks the silence and mends the last piece of your heart when he reassures his love for you and vows to reassure you every single day until the rest of your lives.

And when you finally pull him in he loses balance and falls on top of you, his forehead hits your nose and just like that the house is filled up with laughter again, the onions don't make you cry anymore, the kitchen shrank and the fancy dates became late night movie marathons with you snuggled on Seungmin, or Seungmin snuggled on you, until you were far too tired to walk upstairs, leading to countless nights spent on the tiny couch and countless mornings with complaints about aching bodies but happy souls.

nets: @k-library @ficscafe @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv

⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 4)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2578

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

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

You ran a private practice and as soon as his name showed up on your skin, you immediately made arrangements for your patients to see other local colleagues of yours. You told your parents where you were heading and why. You packed several suitcases, since you weren’t sure how long you’d be gone, and you took off. 

You would’ve preferred to drive, to have your own car when you got where you were going, but you needed to see Charles, and you needed to see him now. He was in trouble and he needed you, so plane it was.

The entire plane ride, you were bouncing your leg, nervous. You were excited that you’d finally see him, meet him, put a face to a personality. But you were worried, if you were visiting him, it  meant he needed help, and you had no idea what could possibly be wrong. 

In the back of your mind, you even wondered if maybe he’d reject you. Maybe he’d take one look at you and disappointment would wash over him and he’d never want to see you again. You hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but maybe he was over the idea of a soulmate. Maybe he’d met someone. 

After fighting the airport, grabbing your luggage, and hailing a cab, you were finally actually closer to Charles. Closer to meeting him. Closer to saving him. 

Your leg kept bouncing as you gave the address to the taxi driver. He glanced back at you before heading away from the airport. Your stomach was in knots, your nerves vividly alive on every part of your body. In one way, the driver couldn’t go fast enough. In another, he was speeding along way too quickly. 

You’d dreamed of this day for years. You two were closer than anyone in your life. He was the first person you went to when you had good news, bad news, sad news, a rough day, a great day. He could make you burst out laughing from just a few words in a text message. He could move you to tears with a letter on email. 

So why, now, after all this time of wishing you could see him, touch him, hear him, were you nervous? 

It was only right to be nervous, you had no idea what to expect. 

And that expectation was completely shattered when he turned into a driveway with large gates. You saw a sign that said Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, but there were weeds grown over it. You frowned. 

You were at a school? 

The taxi rolled down the drive until he reached the front door of what looked to be a mansion. You paid him and he got out to help you with your luggage. You hoisted your purse on your shoulder before taking in the expansive building in front of you. You took a deep breath and walked up to the front door and knocked with a heavy knocker. 

Twenty seconds later, the door opened and you met a tall man with blue eyes and glasses. You wondered if this was Charles. You didn’t feel as if you knew this person though. He didn’t seem familiar. 

Your brows knitted together for a fraction of a second before you cleared your throat and said, “I’m looking for Charles Xavier?” 

“Are you… a parent or a student? School’s been closed down for a while now we aren’t taking--”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, a slight laugh coming out as you glanced down at your hands. “No, I… I’m his soulmate?” 

“His...ah, right, I remember you,” he noted softly before opening the door to let you in.

“He’s mentioned me?” you asked, half for clarification and half to hear it again, just to know he’d been talking about you was a good sign. 

“Yeah, a few times.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head as you looked around at what was clearly a mansion. “This used to be a school?” 

“Mhm. All the brightest kids, gifted--”

“Gifted, like, geniuses?” you clarified. 

“Well that and--”

“Hank, who’s here?” a British voice called down the expansive staircase. A man with long disheveled hair descended the stairs, a bathrobe hung loosely on his form, covering up dirty pajamas. A drink was in his hand and you cocked your head to the side. 

This man -- he felt entirely different from Hank. His aura. His vibe. No, Hank was most certainly not your mate. But this… destroyed man was.

You didn’t think he’d be British.

“It’s, uh, well,” Hank started but he glanced at you. “You should probably tell him.” 

“Charles, it’s me,” you said as you took a step forward, laying a hand on your chest. “I’m Y/F/I.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you as he took a seat on the stairs. “I’m sorry, is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

At first, your heart felt like ice until Hank leaned down and whispered, “Don’t take it personally, it’s the alcohol. He’s--”

“Drunk 24/7 and I love it,” he said before taking a sip. 

“No,” you said angrily. “No, this isn’t how we’re supposed to meet,” you stated, determined as you marched over, and up the stairs. “See these?” you growled, pulling your sleeves up, but there was nothing there -- no name, no scars, no address. Nothing to symbolize your past ten years of communication. “Where...where did they go?” 

“If you’re referring to the scars that are supposed to be there, don’t bother. If we are mates, they disappear when we meet, it’s how it works, this grand universe,” Charles said, making a show out of the air, waving his hands about. “So, let me get this straight, my name and location showed up on your arm and you just took off, destined to meet me?” 

“Yes, that’s what soulmates do for each other,” you reminded adamantly. “We’ve been in contact for ten years. That was before you suddenly vanished on me,” you scowled. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your heart?” he asked, leaning forward, his blue eyes captivating. Right now they were infuriating, and heartbreaking, but crystal clear nonetheless. “Well that’s life,” he spat before getting up. “Hank, see her to the door. I don’t want any guests. Thank you,” he said before waving, not looking back as he ascended the stairs. 

You turned around and faced Hank from the stairs, mouth open. “What… what happened to him?” 

“Where do I start?” he asked with a slight scoff. 

“Well, I guess a year ago. That’s when he stopped talking to me.” 

“A year? You haven’t been in contact for a year?” he inquired incredulously. 

“No,” you said clearly before frowning. “Why? What happened a year ago?” 

“Everything.”

----------------------------------------

You stared down at your arms, slightly saddened by the fact that your arms no longer had the scars on them, the little reminders, symbols and markers that was Charles. You suppressed a sigh just as Hank offered you a drink. 

“Would you like anything?” 

“No, thank you. So, what exactly…. He didn’t tell me anything,” you explained. “He told me goodnight and then... he was gone. I thought he was dead.” 

Hank made a face and perched an eyebrow as he stood behind the desk, leaning against a bookshelf. “He might as well have been.”

“What do you mean?” 

“We built this school, the labs, this whole place... then, just after the first semester...

There were protests. People didn’t want the school. It’s privately funded, and they didn’t like what it provided, what it stood for. Eventually we had to shut it down. He lost everything. Erik, Raven... his legs--”

“His...legs? What happened to his legs? He was perfectly fine.” Your tone made it evident you were clearly in the dark on a lot of things. 

Hanke eyed you, the realization settling over him. “He didn’t tell you, did he?” 

You frowned. 

He sighed before rounding the desk to sit down next to you. “We were in Cuba, uh, with the CIA, trying to stop this guy, he was trying to start a war. Long story short, the war kind of started, and a bullet got lodged in his back, paralyzed him.” 

The news of his sent you reeling. He was paralyzed? You had no idea how to take this.

“So how can he--”

“Walk? It’s a serum I created.” 

“You’re a doctor?” you asked, pleasant surprise in your voice. 

He gave you a half smile and a small laugh. “Not quite, more of a scientist of all trades. I take just enough to keep myself balanced... but he takes too much. I tried easing him back... but he just couldn't bear the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs... but it’s not enough, and it makes him lose his powers. He's... He's just lost too much.” 

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, powers?” 

“Well, yeah, his telepathy,” he reminded, as if you were supposed to know. Suddenly, realization dawned on him. “He didn’t tell you that either, huh?”

“No, I suppose not. I had no idea he has… telepathy?” 

“Yeah, it’s his mutation. Mine is turning into a blue beast. That’s why I take the serum, but I take just enough. He overdoes it…” 

“I can’t believe he has a mutation, and he didn’t tell me,” you said aloud, astonished. It was more to yourself than to him. 

“That’s why the school was shut down, it’s a school for mutants, and some people were protesting so badly it became unsafe for the students.”

“So the sign for gifted youngsters meant mutation, not…” you said, trailing off. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of his dream to teach mutants, help them,” he informed.

“Well, I knew he wanted to teach. I mean, he told me about becoming a professor but never….” You bit your lip. “Just how much has he not told me?” you wondered, again, it wasn’t exactly directed at Hank.

“I’m not sure,” he breathed softly as he eyed you. You think he felt sympathy, maybe pity for you. You thought you and Charles knew everything about each other. Guess you were wrong. 

But it’s not like he was a racecar driver and you didn’t know it. He was a mutant, he had telepathy.

“So this… telepathy, how does it work?”

Hank started to shake his head, seeming uncertain. “You may want to ask him that yourself.”

“I don’t really think he wants to see me right now,” you muttered, feeling utterly dejected. 

You’d built this up in your head for years. You knew you’d meet him when he needed you most, but you thought it might be moral support, maybe to help him if he got in an accident in the hospital. You dreamed of meeting him forever, since the night of your 18th birthday.

Now when you found him, he was a drug dependent mutant who clearly had lost most hope in life. 

“This… is not what I expected,” you finally said. 

Hank said nothing but offered a sympathetic half smile. 

“Well, so how do I fix him?” you asked, taking a deep breath. “He lost Raven, and Erik… Wait, how exactly did he lose them?” 

“That fight, in Cuba, it was against another mutant. It was to save most of humanity, but for Erik it was a vendetta. Erik killed the mutant and asked some of the team to join him. Basically if you’re not with Erik, you’re against him.”

“And what does he stand for?” you wondered. Charles had mentioned meeting a man named Erik, and he said he was like him, but more of a lost soul that he was going to help. You thought he meant mentally, psychologically, not fighting in an actual war.

“He wants the mutants to be the super race, he feels they’re superior. He thinks the humans, if they ever found out about us, that we’d be targeted.” 

“And Charles? How does he feel about it?”

“He has faith in humanity. Yeah there would be some groups that didn’t like us, but he feels ultimately that we could get along peacefully. Well… he did before the protests.”

“So what exactly is this school for, then? I know it’s mutants but what does that mean? Why would someone protest it?”

“Charles wanted a school where mutant kids, kids just discovering their powers could come here and learn to control them safely, to exercise their powers, to understand the full range of their powers. He ultimately wanted it to be a blended school of humans and mutants, but we barely got started with just the mutants before it was shut down.” 

“That’s awful,” you breathed quietly, frowning. “Who closed the school? Was it Charles or was it the government?”

“Charles ultimately decided. He just felt the kids would be safer to go back into hiding. Here they knew where we all were, so they could come and harass us… It was only a matter of time before someone else stepped in though.” 

You were trying to keep up with everything, with all the news. “And Raven? You said he lost her too, what happened?” 

“She left with Erik. She’s got an incredible gift, she can change herself to look like any person and sound exactly like them. She’s unique and quite fascinating. She ages rather slowly. But she got tired of hiding. Her natural state is blue skin and fiery red hair, of course this is off putting to some, namely humans. So she thought it would be in her best interest if she joined the side where she might not have to hide any more,” he explained. There was a sadness, but an understanding to his voice and you couldn’t help but think that maybe they were closer than just friends. 

“She was his best friend, right?” you asked, wanting to be sure. At this point he’d left out so many details maybe Raven and he weren’t all that closer or they were closer than what he’d said. 

Hank nodded. “Practically siblings,” he commented. 

“I can see how that could devastate someone. And this Erik fellow? They were close?” 

“They were becoming that way, yes. He and Charles trained a lot together, became friends.” 

You frowned, thinking. “So what do I do for him? I mean, how do I… make him feel better?” you wondered. If anyone would know it would probably be Hank who appears to be the only one who’s stayed by his side. 

He laughed, clearly amused. “If I knew the answer to that, I don’t think you’d be here. I think I’ve done everything I can keeping the mutants and anti-mutants away. And also giving him the serum… Past that, I couldn’t tell you what gets him out of bed in the morning.” 

You pressed your lips together. “Could you show me to his room? I’d like to talk to him.” 

“Sure,” he said with an air of concern. He probably wondered if he would even talk to you. 

He got up and you followed him from what had appeared to be a study, back to the entry room, up a stairway that split in two, turning left, then walking down a long hallway to the last bedroom on the right. 

Hank knocked on the door, waited a second then cracked the door. He peeked in then turned around and nodded at you. You nodded once before he stepped out of the way and let you inside.

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

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[artificialqueens]

The Goode Case, 7/14 - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jaida sees Gigi once more, but can she reach her? At the follow-up interviews with the two students, Jaida faces her toughest task yet - trying to get any information at all out of Aiden.

(A/N: So … I was on a bit of a roll with the re-edit, so we’re at the halfway mark! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented, or liked, or read and this so far. I know it’s still very slow burn, but I hope you enjoy part seven all the same!)

11.46AM

Blood rushed into Jaida’s ears, her head span, and she fought to stay upright with the dizziness. Her right hand was tightly in the grip of this man, who was now very much alive – a pair of twinkling hazel eyes, a face full of colour and life, a live person, not the ghostly illusion she was used to seeing. She clenched and unclenched her left hand, which Brita had held moments ago; she didn’t recall letting go, but there was nothing there now but air.

Breathing rapidly, she looked around. She was with this strange man, still in the same spot in the guest house, but it had changed – it was no longer dusty and grimy, but well-kept, with highly polished floorboards, richly embroidered rugs and red carpeting, and false chandeliers hanging in the corridor ahead of her, gleaming in the glorious sunlight streaming through the window at the top of the staircase. On the staircase itself, the same embroidered red carpet led down the wooden stairs, now their former sumptuous dark oak colour, the wooden railing sturdy, and not dilapidated and falling apart.

“What the hell -?” Jaida managed to splutter. Her voice was muffled, her head still spinning, making it difficult to concentrate on what she was seeing and hearing.

The hotel was clearly in its glory days, the enormous window at the top of the staircase illuminating them, bathing them in warm sunlight, and casting the guest house into a welcoming place. The man before her, whose hand was warm and solid now, was dressed in a way that reminded Jaida of the bands on the covers of her mom’s old records from the seventies, although she herself was still in her uniform – navy blouse and pants.

“Have I gone … back in time or something?”

He didn’t have time to answer her.

The scream shattered the perfect illusion of this place, brought Jaida back to her senses – this was not real.

“Where am I? Where – Brita! Jackie?” Jaida called, but her voice sounded strained.

She turned to the man. “Where have you – seriously, have you brought me back to the seventies? Is this shit for real?”

He just cocked an eyebrow, looking towards the double doors at the end of the corridor. To the living area. The double doors were carved in astonishing detail, the highly varnished wood panels dazzling in their beauty, shining in the light.

“WHO’S THERE? HELP ME!”

Another scream, clear as day, shrill and desperate.

Jaida tugged at her hand to try to get free, but the man held it tightly.

“Let me go!” She tried to shout, but her voice cracked and it came our hoarse. The man still kept her tightly in his grip; not moving, but not making any effort to subdue her shouts either.

One of the double doors of the room sprang open, and Jaida caught sight of her, clinging to the door itself, trying to run out of the room and towards Jaida. A slender woman, with a nest of dyed-blonde hair, face red from tears and screaming.

Gigi Goode.

“HELP ME! HELP ME!” She shrieked over and over.

A woman with black hair appeared behind her, Jaida recognising her as the same woman from last night; grabbing Gigi by the arms and grunting as she heaved her away from the door, dragging her backwards – another frenzied scream from Gigi –  

“Hey – hey! Gigi!” Jaida set off at a run to the double doors, finally freeing her hand from the man, the screaming becoming louder and louder, but as soon as she let go, her legs gave way, and she tumbled down, down, into a darkness so complete it swallowed her –

Jaida drew a ragged breath, as laboured as if it were her first, finding herself laid on her back on the floor. The scent of the dust below her filled her nostrils and made her cough and splutter.

She opened her eyes, the screaming having left her ears, to sit up, her two colleagues now before her, both silent, staring at her. Brita was in shock, her mouth ajar, one hand at her throat; while Jackie’s white face crumpled as she burst into tears, turning and burying herself in Brita’s shoulder.

1.02PM

“Tell me what happened to me,” Jaida said finally rubbing her back, which still ached from where she’d fallen.

When Jaida had relayed to them both a brief version of what she had seen, Jackie had insisted on them going back to her apartment for a bit of comfort and privacy, for the first time since that evening in July. Jackie had added a plant or two since their last visit, while her housemate had added a cereal bowl or two by the looks of it.

Jackie had laid out a tray of green tea in three mugs, one of which Brita was politely sipping from and hiding her grimaces from Jackie, while Jaida was waiting for hers to cool a little.

“Well, you kind of went all stiff, and your eyes rolled right back like you’d been knocked out or something,” Brita replied. “I was holding your other hand, but you didn’t respond to me at all, I tried waving your hand, but you were just all floppy. And after a minute or two, you just kind of – keeled over backwards.”

“And I knew you’d seen someone, but I didn’t know what you were doing,” Jackie continued. “The man you saw, when he touched you, it must have brought you to his plane. Do you remember what happened to bring you back to us? Did he say something?”

“No, he didn’t talk,” Jaida muttered. “And all I did was go towards the back room, where I saw Gigi and that other woman, and then everything went black. Jackie, are you sure there was no one in the back room?”

Jackie shook her head. “We didn’t see anything, and I didn’t hear anything, or any thoughts.”

“It’s just – it’s never happened to me before.” Jaida shook her head in wonder. “I see them, but I never touch them.”

Jaida drank from her mug of green tea, surprised at how much better it tasted than it looked.

“Sorry I left last night. I was too scared to think straight. You gotta understand, my housemate Widow – her friend killed herself a few days back, and all I can see is her, in the apartment. It’s really not nice, or cool. And it’s not like I can bring them back to life.”

Brita’s face furrowed with concern. “That doesn’t sound cool.”

“And when I saw youBrita, I was so, so scared. More scared than on any other job we’ve done, sis.” The emotion made her voice break, and she shook her head. “I hate it. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“It’s a gift, Jaida,” Jackie murmured, “but yeah, I agree. It is a pain in the ass too.”

“Alright,” Brita took a deep breath, trying to get them back on target. “So you’re saying you could see the hotel as it was in the seventies, with some man we don’t know, and then you saw Gigi in the room with the double doors. Along with a woman with black hair.”

“Not just any woman,” Jaida interrupted, “it was the woman I saw you interacting with last night! When you projected out of your body? You remember what you did, right?”

Brita nodded silently.

“We … still haven’t really talked about that,” Jaida reminded Brita, but Brita didn’t seem to hear her.

“What I don’t get,” Brita pondered, “is why you could see a man, when we were all walking around, but not that woman with the black hair?”

“Maybe they show themselves when they want to communicate. Maybe they can tell who will see them and who will not.”

“So why didn’t she show herself?” Brita continued.

“Hell if I know.”

“But you managed to communicate with that man you saw, and he – he brought you to a spirit plane, from what you said!” Jackie’s voice was awed. “That’s amazing.”

“Are you sure your housemate is at work? She’s not overhearing this?” Jaida asked, but Jackie shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.

“Oh yeah, she’s almost never in, she has a million jobs.”

“Alright. Well, I definitely saw Gigi, on this … spirit plane, when he took me back,” Jaida nodded. “She matched the description, and the picture Crystal showed me. When I saw her, she was being dragged by that woman from last night, with the black hair. And she was in that room, the one that was locked.”

“I don’t get it,” Jackie murmured, biting her nail. “Gigi can’t have been in the building! I should have heard her thoughts, even if she was unconscious, but I heard … nothing. How could she have been there?”

“I hate to say it –“ Brita began, but Jackie shook her head.

“No, it can’t be. We’d have found a body by now. Forensics have had their team in, and dogs. The dogs alone would have found a body.”

Brita shook her head violently and pressed the palms of her hands to her ears. “I swear I can feel you doing it, Jackie!”

“And I swear I’m not! You’re just getting a headache!”

“Brita, did you want to, y’know, talk more about last night?” Jaida asked. “You haven’t really mentioned it at all.”

Brita looked between Jackie and Jaida for a few moments, then down at the ground. “It’s so weird.”

“You’re telling us,” Jackie smirked.

“I couldn’t control it; when Dahlia was talking, it was like I was sinking into the floor, and then I felt like I was pulled out of my body again. I don’t even remember what she was saying, but something about the room was making me kind of floaty.”

Jaida rubbed Brita’s arm. Brita took a deep breath and continued.

“It was kind of hard for me to see, it wasn’t that clear, but I saw that woman you mentioned, the one with black hair; and it felt like she pulled me over to her, like I was on a string, you know? But when I got to her, I don’t remember anything else. I just felt like I sank into the floor. I felt like I was underwater or something,” Brita shuddered. “It didn’t feel great, sis. I couldn’t move.”

They were all silent, just the tick tick of the clock on the wall providing background sound, without which they probably would have all descended into madness. Jackie glanced from Jaida to Brita, who frowned.

“Jackie, cut it out,” Brita hissed.

“Why do you feel it, but Jaida doesn’t?” Jackie whispered. “There must be a reason, but I don’t know it yet. And those students – I couldn’t even hear Aiden at all.”

“Oh, speaking of Aiden,” Brita said nonchalantly, “I meant to say, but she gave me her number last night. I wanted to arrange a follow up interview with her and Crystal, today, after lunch. They’ll be there at two-thirty.”

Jaida raised an eyebrow. “She gave you her number?”

Brita sighed at the quizzical looks from both Jaida and Jackie. “She’s a nursing student. It’s not like a fucking young college freshman gave me her number. Med school takes a while, and she took a year out to work before college. She’s pretty much the same age as me. Well, us.”

Jackie was trying to hold back a smile. “You learned all this about her from one meeting last night?”

“No …” Brita shifted in her chair. “One meeting … a few messages …”

“Brita!”

“Okay, okay,” a blush was creeping up her cheeks, “it’s been a few months, so … maybe it’s time to get back out there, and she seems interesting enough …”

“Child, interesting is the right word,” Jaida muttered.

“Is she gay?”

“She said she met Crystal through the LGBTQ+ group at NYU.”

“And I guess you weren’t discussing that in the guest house either?” Jaida teased.

Jackie frowned. “Is it … a bit unethical to date a witness?”

“A bit,” Brita nodded. “That’s why we need to find Gigi, fast.”

2.33PM

They were late back to the office, Jackie having insisted on heating some soup for them all before coming back. Brita was a very careful driver, which was great in a city like New York, but didn’t mean that they got anywhere fast. As much as Brita hated being late anywhere, she hated being too reckless more.

By the time they got back up to the office on the fourth storey, Crystal and Aiden were already waiting for them in the lobby, looking a bit more cheerful than they had on Saturday morning. Jaida internally prayed that the woman on the desk hadn’t written the wrong names again.

No such luck. “Kristen and Ava, witnesses in connection with the Goode case,” Jaida read from the notepad. She sighed. “Let’s just get rid of the names right now.”

“Good choice.” Jackie hitched up her bag on her back. “So – you know the plan? I’m taking Crystal, you’re taking Aiden. I’m sorry, but I can’t interview someone I can’t hear, it will worry me too much. We’ll see what they have to say separately.”

“And I’ll go through the manual records for the guest house, see if anything comes up.” Brita nodded to them both.

Crystal had looked a little more nervous at being separated, while Aiden had shrugged and complied effortlessly with Jaida, following her to the back of the building. Jackie led Crystal to a room at the front side, so the two would be as far as possible from each other.

Jaida poured a glass of water for them both, but Aiden seemed to want to keep her hands under the desk, playing with a zip on her hoodie.

“You brought us the anklet from the old Visage hotel,” Jaida began, pushing a floor plan of the hotel towards Aiden. “I’ve marked an X on the spot where you say it was found. Can you confirm?”

Aiden pulled a pair of glasses from her bag, and peered at the map, with the X at the foot of the staircase. She nodded. “Yeah, that’s right, just there.”

“Can you tell me why you went into the house to begin with?”

“I thought you and your colleague said we weren’t going to get in trouble for that,” Aiden groaned, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“You aren’t,” Jaida said patiently, “but I want to know what prompted you. There are hundreds of abandoned buildings in this city and plenty on that road. Why did you go into that one in particular?”

Aiden’s jaw twitched.

“Any information you can give us will help your friend be found. Was there a reason that Crystal wanted to go to that building in particular, that’s what I mean.”

“Yeah, Crystal mentioned that it’s got a link to Gigi’s family. The last owner, Michelle, she was a Goode. She married the Visage guy.”

“So – tell me your side. How did you hear that Gigi was missing?” Jaida folded her hands on the table to try to encourage Aiden, but Aiden didn’t appear to need encouragement.

“Crystal messaged me at lunch on Friday. She said Gigi had missed class and hadn’t been online in like, twelve hours, which is huge for Gigi. And, as well, I don’t know if you know – Crystal and Gigi are dating, rather than friends, but Gigi didn’t send her a good morning and good night message.” Aiden spoke in an even, mechanical tone, as if she wasn’t hearing the words coming from her mouth.

“Was that routine for them?”

“Yeah. So, we asked around, and we knew Gigi had been at the party at Betty’s house. Betty lives at Northfield, so it’s nearby. Crystal assumed she might have gone to Westfield based on that. And the connection on the house.”

“The link to the Goode family?”

“Yep,” Aiden nodded. “I mean, everyone knows the Goodes have that huge condo on Upper East Side, so having a creepy old abandoned building as well is just … street cred, I guess.”

“So,” Jaida prompted, “you and Crystal went to the guest house on Friday night, for any reason in particular, or just because?”

“Crystal wanted to make sure Gigi hadn’t got stuck, or fallen through a floorboard or something. She said she’d go alone if no one else wanted to, and no one else did.”

“Do you know why?”

“There are all sorts of rumours about the Visage woman who had it last. Like, she did black magic, sold her soul for eternal beauty, and she was still in that house and can kill you if see her eyes. So no one else wanted to go.”

Aiden swallowed, and Jaida saw a flash of some emotion pass across her face for what seemed like the first time.

“I couldn’t let Crystal go alone.”

“Why not?”

“She’s the kindest … you won’t meet a sweeter person than Crystal. I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“Did you feel like she was in danger?

“Yes,” Aiden said earnestly, looking down at the table, “and I wanted to – well, she needed someone.”

“Alright,” Jaida took a sip of her water, hoping it would prompt Aiden to do the same, establish some kind of mutual connection through movement; but Aiden continued to sit stiffly in the chair. “You got to the house on Friday night. Did you find the anklet straight away?”

“Pretty much. When we got in, the house was dark, but I saw something on the bottom step, from the light in the back window behind the staircase. I found the anklet on the ground.”

“And did you leave straight away?”

Aiden’s left eye twitched.

“There’s no judgement here.”

“Detective Hall, this may sound strange, and I don’t even think this makes any sense, but the truth is,” Aiden raised her eyes to meet Jaida’s, “I think Crystal interacted with that Visage woman’s ghost.”

“What do you mean, interacted?”

“She went a bit strange.”

“You’ll … need to be more specific.”

Jaida had heard some far fetched witness statements, but this was becoming farcical. She forced herself to remain as impartial as she could.

“When we got there at first, Crystal said she thought she saw Gigi. I thought maybe Crystal was imagining it. She’s worried about her girlfriend, you know? But then, when we found the anklet, there was a minute or two when she stopped hearing me, and started climbing the staircase. I called to her but she didn’t respond. And she said she doesn’t remember hearing me.”

“But she went up the stairs?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t remember that bit. She doesn’t remember anything between the bottom and the top of the stairs, all she can remember is hearing a tune.” Aiden pushed her glasses up her nose again, and folded her arms. “I think she saw that Visage woman, and she did something to Crystal. That’s why Crystal walked off.”

“So – what made Crystal come to?” Jaida’s stomach was twisting in knots. This was getting more and more strange.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you –“

“Yes,” Aiden nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”

“You went back to the house yesterday. Did you see anything that time?”

“Not me – but Crystal saw Gigi, in that room. I was worried that the same thing would happen – so I followed her in again, but nothing happened to Crystal that time. And then – well, you know the rest. You and your team turned up.”

“So, do you think Gigi is there?” Jaida asked.

“Well,” Aiden said thoughtfully, “you said you saw Gigi in the house, right, when we saw you last night? Well, I didn’t see a thing. Even when Crystal fucking pointed right up to the window she said she saw her at, all I saw is boards on the window.”

Aiden leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“So, what do you think is happening, Detective Hall? Because you and Crystal seem to be the only people seeing those things.”

Jaida was silent. She was beginning to understand Jackie’s frustration at not being able to hear Aiden’s thoughts. This woman was a fortress, with her flat voice and disconnection from what seemed like everything around her; and her somewhat belligerent nature was becoming infuriating.

But Aiden’s focus faltered suddenly, a twinge of sadness passing behind her blue eyes, and she put her face in her hands, pushing her glasses to the top of her head.

“Is Gigi dead? Is Crystal seeing her ghost?” Her voice was muffled behind her hands.

Jaida cleared her throat. “There’s currently no evidence that Gigi is dead.”

“Right.” Aiden murmured. “No evidence.”

Aiden sounded as convinced as Jaida felt.

[mbavholidayexchange]

To @dxlilith, from @teamethanmorgan

Title: Musical Secret - MBAV Holiday Exchange

Rating: T

Summary: not provided

Ao3 Link: N/A

Content

The bell rang, signifying the end of class and the beginning of lunch. Lunch was the second-best time of their day in school, according to Ethan. The first-place holder for best time of the day was the moment they’d leave school. But now, this would do and everyone was excited to leave the classroom and to go hang out with their friends. Ethan clicked his pen and closed his book when Mr. G stopped explaining. He usually dismissed the class immediately, but this time, he didn’t.

“This will be the end of class today, but before you go,” he said. Groans came from the students. The ones who had stood up sat down again. “As of today, you can sign up for the talent show. Since I’m helping to organize it this year, I really encourage you to participate.”

Everyone already knew about this, but not many people had signed up. Ethan knew the sign-up sheet would be full by the end of the week, though.

“If you do participate, I will give extra credit. I hope that gives you an incentive because I think you guys will really-” Ethan zoned the rest out. He was distracted by the students’ smiles and murmurs amongst each other. He knew some were struggling to raise their grades. Some were just reaching for high or full marks. Ethan would be interested since he could potentially get 100% on this class if he signed up. The only problem is he didn’t think he had any talents worthy of the show. He knew he had technological and artistic talents, but they weren’t things he felt like he could participate with. He probably could, but he barely cared.

Some students left the class and only a handful were left, including Ethan, Benny and Rory, while Mr. G erased the board.

“Do you guys think I should enter the talent show?” Rory asked enthusiastically.

“What would you do if you entered?” Benny, Ethan’s best friend and, so far, one-year crush, asked. “Pranks?” He laughed.

“No,” Rory said, eying Benny like he was dumb for suggesting that. “I’m gonna rap.”

“You know how to rap?” Ethan asked with a raised eyebrow. He’s never heard Rory rap. Ever. He wasn’t doubting that Rory could. He was just surprised that he was just hearing about this. Rory, as a response to Ethan’s question, nodded. “I mean, if you can, go ahead. I don’t see why not.”

Rory grinned. “Great. I think I will. What about you guys?”

“I’d rather die than participate in the show,” Benny replied.

Rory looked confused. “Why would you want to die?”

“T-That’s not what I- never mind,” Benny said, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” Ethan interrupted the conversation. “I don’t think I will either.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need extra credit,” Rory said.

“I’d love extra credit, actually,” Ethan said. “I just don’t have anything to perform. Plus … I hate the stage.”

“Might I interrupt, boys?” Mr. G said. They must’ve been loud enough to hear. Oops?

“Sure,” Benny said hesitantly.

“I think you should really consider it. I mean, if you ask others who’ve been in the talent show before, they’ll tell you how good it was. And if you do have anything to perform, I think it’ll be refreshing for the students to have colleagues who’ve never been on stage perform for once. It’ll encourage bravery, and especially since you guys are seniors now, some newer students who are shy would feel like they can perform, too.”

Benny nodded. “We’ll think about it.” He looked at his friends, then at Mr. G. “Well, I guess we’ll go have lunch. Thanks, Mr. G.”

~.~.~.~.~

Three days passed where, occasionally, the boys would crack jokes whenever the talent show was mentioned. However, the jokes had died down eventually where none of them with the exception of Rory, who was already practicing his own song, would talk about it. They’d encourage Rory, too, because Ethan finally heard him rap, and frankly, he was good. Yeah, he only admitted it to him indirectly, but he hoped Rory got that Ethan was supportive of him. Benny didn’t typically talk about it much, which was probably because he didn’t care about it, either. He wasn’t sure, though, and he didn’t care to ask.

After school, when Ethan stayed to tutor other students who needed help, he found that he’d finished early that day. Thank God since he wanted to relax a little bit. He’d go home immediately and throw himself on the bed, but he felt like he needed some energy. Something sweet from the vending machine would do for now.

So, he made his way to the closest machine, which was on the floor above. There was one on the same floor, but it was too far away for him to even care about it. He’d gone up a level and passed a few classrooms. Some were occupied because of club meetings and other tutoring sessions. He’d also passed by the music room and faintly heard the sound of a piano. He didn’t know why he was surprised by hearing the piano at first. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting someone to be practicing now. Well, it made sense that someone would practice right now. He felt like an idiot for expecting otherwise.

Despite his curiosity, Ethan didn’t go in to see who was playing the piano. Instead, he just went to get a healthy chocolate bar from the vending machine. On his way back, he passed by the music room again. This time, he stopped to listen. He didn’t just stop because the music was that good, which it was, but he stopped because the person was singing now. A guy. A very familiar voice. He couldn’t tell what he was singing, but it was magical. And it was such calming music. He didn’t think anyone from Whitechapel High School would like such classic-sounding music, yet here he was, being proven wrong.

He didn’t want to open the door. It would be too impolite to interrupt this guy. And it would be too nosy of him to do. But Ethan didn’t have the best reputation in school. He may be a nerd, but he was one with a big mouth and a history of detention with Benny and Rory.

Deciding against his better judgement, Ethan opened the door to look inside. The piano wasn’t facing the door, so the only way the guy would know he’d opened it is if he’d heard a sound or seen a reflection, which it didn’t seem like he did. Ethan could see the back of the guy’s head, not his face. But even without seeing his face, Ethan could tell who it was by the clothes. After all, he’s seen him all day. He’s been with him all day. He knew what shirt he was wearing. Benny.

I didn’t know he played piano. Or sang! And he was impressed. He expected to feel anger that his friend would hide such a thing from him, but no. He just thought that his friend was ten times cooler now.

Benny had stopped playing. Ethan expected him to play something else, but he’d turned around, maybe to have a look at the room or maybe to get up. Upon seeing Ethan, his eyes widened, his mouth agape. “Uuuuh, busted?” he asked, hiding his face with his arm in the usual joking manner that he usually had.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, a smile creeping on his face. “Busted.” He walked inside and closed the door behind him. “You know, I’m a master at piano, too.”

Benny raised an eyebrow. “Are you?” He didn’t sound sure of Ethan. After all, both of them weren’t usually serious around each other.

“Yep. I’ll show you,” Ethan said and walked towards the piano.

He moved his fingers a little bit, pretending as if he was stretching them. “Here.” He pressed on one key. “Beautiful, right?”

Benny, who didn’t seem to expect that for some reason, burst out laughing. “Very beautiful.”

Ethan laughed with him for a bit. It had erupted into a fit where both of them were laughing, not particularly at the joke. Well, Ethan knew he wasn’t laughing at the joke. It felt like laughing was the only way he could express his emotions of shock and, oddly, happiness. After he caught his breath, he wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. “You know, you’re really good.”

Benny didn’t seem to agree since he shook his head. “I’m a bit rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve had piano lessons.”

“If your rusty sounds like this, I’d like to be this rusty, too.” He grinned.

“I take it you’re not mad at me?” Benny asked, his teeth gritted in anticipation.

Ethan shook his head. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because … I hid something from you?”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. It’s not really life and death, so…”

Benny smiled. “So, I’m only not allowed to lie about life and death. Got it.”

Both were smiling in silence. It was strange to have such a vibe between them. But it felt nice. “Wanna play something else? For me?” he asked, hopeful but preparing for a no.

Benny hesitated for a second. And another. And another. Was he too embarrassed? Ethan regretted asking. Maybe it was the wrong thing to ask. Finally, Benny spoke. “Sure. Why not?”

For a few minutes, Ethan was surrounded by the blissful sounds of the piano. Benny didn’t sing, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to push himself to do everything on front of Ethan. He didn’t have to push himself to do something he didn’t want to. But Ethan was grateful he was brave enough to say yes and play something else. Just for his friend.

And in that moment, even though he’d had feelings for Benny before, he felt them grow stronger through this. It wasn’t the music that intensified everything. It was the moment and the way they both were bonding despite the surprise.

~.~.~.~.~

The next day, after school hours, and after Rory had left, Ethan and Benny had stayed, walking side-by-side. They had stopped at the bottom of the stairs after a long day at school, Benny with a foot already on the staircase. “So, I guess I’ll go to the…” he looked around, “music room. I believe you have tutoring today?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not today. I do tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Benny said, his face revealing none of his emotions. “I guess you’ll leave, then? Or are you coming, too?”

Ethan scratched the back of his head. He wanted to. He really did. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Benny chuckled. “Now you’re being nice about it? I’m not uncomfortable around you, E. Besides, I think it’s better to practice in front of someone I know. You know, get feedback.”

Ethan nodded. “Okay. I’ll come. But remember, you wanted this. If you get nervous, it’s on you.”

Benny repeated what Ethan said in a mocking voice. Ethan laughed, feeling like their relationship hadn’t changed at all. It was good. He didn’t want their dynamic to change. Well, he realized that maybe he was lying to himself. Their relationship had a sort of shift to it. But it wasn’t bad. It felt good.  It felt as if the way they spoke to each other was still the same, but there was something different in the times they were alone together. It made Ethan’s heart beat fast.

“So, are you thinking of entering the talent show?” Ethan asked as he joined Benny in climbing the stairs.

Benny shrugged. “Not sure. These shows aren’t really my thing, but I think it would be fun.” He turned to Ethan. “Do you think I should?”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He nodded. “I think you’re really talented,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Benny asked. Ethan responded with another nod. “Cause I think what’s really happening is that you’re trying to get me to enter, but in reality I’m so bad that I’m gonna make a fool of myself – a God damn fool. It was your plan all along.” He pointed a mockingly accusing finger at Ethan.

Ethan patted Benny’s shoulder. “Someone’s been watching a lot of conspiracy videos on YouTube.”

“Okay, I just watched five.”

“That’s five too many.”

They had soon reached the music room. At the beginning, Benny seemed to be legitimately trying to practice. With every key he played, Ethan was blown away by how good he was. However, by the end of it all, Benny was goofing around, making up stupid lyrics and playing along with them on the piano. He’d dragged Ethan along with him in singing, which Ethan was not good at. They sang songs that they both knew. The songs eventually became silly versions of the originals where both would take turns making up new idiotic words to replace the real ones.

He really should go for it, Ethan thought to himself. He’s got the voice and the talent. But he didn’t want to pressure him. So, he didn’t mention it. But turns out that in the following day, Benny did sign up. Ethan didn’t even know about this until Rory mentioned that he saw Benny’s name written down. Ethan just gave Benny a smile. Rory spoke a lot about this throughout the next few hours, but Ethan was silent. He did, however, send Benny a text that day when he got back home.

Me

I’m glad you’ve got your name down for the talent show!

Benny

Thx! :D Hopefully Mr. G and Mr. Hicks will like my audition. I’m nervous. OWO

Me

No more OWO. You are banned from talking to me now.

Benny

…

UWU?

Me

*Googles* How do I yeet my friend off this planet?

~.~.~.~.~

Ethan was pacing around in the hallway, waiting for either Benny or Rory to get out and tell Ethan if they were in the talent show officially. It felt like forever just waiting there. He didn’t want to sit either because his nerves would get to him then. He wasn’t even auditioning and he was nervous.

The first of the two to come out was Rory. He had a huge smile that distracted Ethan from Rory’s extremely colorful “rapping jacket”. “Dude, they loved it. I told you if my mom loved it, they would, too.”

Rory’s mom loved everything he did, so that wasn’t really a valid point. “That’s great,” Ethan said. “Mr. G must be really happy.”

Rory nodded. “He’s usually happy, but I think he’s like 1.25 times – no, 1.26 times happy now.”

Ethan looked at Rory with furrowed eyebrows. “Ok,” he whispered. Rory with his oddly specific numbers was … something, to say the least. “I guess we gotta wait for Benny now.”

“Yeah,” Rory agreed. “Hey, if he gets in, maybe, after the talent show, you can finally ask him out. You didn’t yet, right?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. But I’ll kill you if you make your voice any louder.” He made a smile on his face, but it was a threatening smile. Rory made a zipping-mouth-motion.

Despite everything, it was a good thing Rory was beside him, though, because as they waited for Benny, he had someone to talk to.

“Oh, Benny’s here,” Rory exclaimed. That made Ethan turn his attention to the door, which Benny had already passed through. He didn’t look thrilled.

Did he not get in? How? It wouldn’t make sense. “What happened?” Ethan asked worriedly, though he tried to hide his emotions. He didn’t want to make Benny feel worse.

“Well, I played in front of them and they interrupted me and…” He smiled. “I made it.”

Ethan slapped him in the shoulder. Did he think that was funny? Well, it wasn’t to Ethan. “I hate you.”

Benny nodded, still smiling, but this time it had a hint of pride. “I know.”

~.~.~.~.~

Benny

I’m nervous

Me

Why???

Ur greattttt!!!!!

Benny

I’ll screw up tmrw ik it

Me

You home?

Benny

Yep

Me

Coming

Despite Ethan’s mom asking a million questions of where and why he was going, Ethan managed to get to the door in a little over a minute. The only thing he grabbed was his phone. He did what any good friend would do. He went out of his way to cheer up Benny and make him happy.

He rang the doorbell of the Weirs’ household. He waited a bit before Benny’s grandmother answered. She was so used to him coming over, that she said, “Hey, Ethan. He’s in his room.”

He had gone upstairs and knocked on Benny’s door. He’d barge in, but he himself hated it when people came in his room without any warning.

“Come in!” Benny’s voice yelled from the other side of the door.

Ethan opened the door to see Benny lying on his bed, throwing a stress ball upwards then catching it. He didn’t even look at Ethan. He just continued to throw the ball. “Hey,” he said.

“You look really worried, not gonna lie,” Ethan said.

“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” He stopped throwing the ball and sat down on his bed to put it aside.

Ethan sighed. He didn’t know what to do or say exactly to Benny, but he knew he’ll try his best. “Dude, you’ve heard me sing. You can’t bomb it worse than I could.”

Benny laughed. “Hey, you’re not that bad.”

“That means there’s still bad in my singing,” Ethan said. He sat down at the foot of the bed, facing Benny. “Hey, you’re great and I know you got confidence in you. Even Rory, who doesn’t care about a lot of things, was really impressed when he heard you sing and play the piano.”

“I know I’m great,” Benny said with a joking smile. It disappeared as soon as it came to his face. “It’s just that I feel like my nerves will get to me and I’ll screw up because of that.” He huffed. “Why did I sign up for this?”

Ethan brought himself closer to Benny. His heart was pounding fast, but he had to remind himself that he just wanted to make a friend feel better. Nothing more. He put his hands on Benny’s shoulders. “Snap out of it, B. Easier said than done, I know. But it’ll just be one night. You won’t have to do it again in front of the school.”

Benny breathed in and closed his eyes. “You’re right. Just one night. One night and I’ll be done with it.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his hands off Benny’s shoulders. “Besides, as long as you make one person enjoy your performance in the audience, as in me, then you should be proud.”

“What if you don’t enjoy it?” Benny asked.

“Shut up, idiot. I’ll enjoy it,” Ethan replied with a smile.

Benny also smiled, but it was almost hidden. He was looking down at his blanket as he picked on some loose threads. “Thanks. I needed this.”

“No problem,” Ethan said, glad he did something to make Benny feel better.

“I might jinx things,” Benny said. Oh, no. Not again. “I feel really happy right now, actually, even though I’m still kind of nervous. But I gotta say this. E, you’re great.” Ethan was confused. Why did he say all of that to lead up to you’re great? But Ethan realized Benny wasn’t done speaking. “And I like you. Don’t punch Rory or anything, but … he told me that you like me.”

Ethan felt his cheeks get hot. I thought I told him to keep it a secret. That traitor! “I won’t punch him, alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll just skin him alive.”

Benny chuckled. “I told him like three days ago that I like you and I guess he took it as an opportunity to break this … barrier between us, I guess?” He scratched the back of his head, squinting a little. “Not that I’m justifying what he did. I’d be angry too, but … ugh, I’m blabbering again.”

If Ethan’s heart was beating fast before, it was getting worse now. “You’re not pranking me or anything, right?” Ethan asked.

Benny shook his head. “No, never. That’d be a mean prank. I’m not that mean. But I mean, if you still want us to be platonic, I’ll be cool with that.” He shook his head again. “No, that’s a lie. I’d accept it, but I’ll be super not-”

“You’re blabbering again,” Ethan said with a laugh at the end. “I did not expect things to go this way, to be honest.” He cleared his throat. He felt like his speech would fail him if he continued without clearing his throat. His next words were slow, but it was necessary or else he wouldn’t be able to properly deliver what he wanted to say. “But I would be happy to give this a shot.” Things were too serious, and he realized they needed to be. He was still not used to it, and in their natural way of communication, he decided to change the tone of the conversation a little bit. “I mean, whatever. I guess we should give it a shot. It’s not like I care or anything.” He tried to make his sentence sarcastic and obviously not serious. The keyword was he tried. He hoped it sounded sarcastic.

“How about we do something next weekend?” Benny suggested. Okay, he knew Ethan did care.

Ethan nodded. “Sure, that sounds great.”

~.~.~.~.~

Ethan couldn’t be backstage for Benny during the talent show. He had to be in the audience. He realized, though, that he could still be there for Benny, even through text. Whenever Benny sent him messages, he replied to make him feel better. He would initiate texts, but he knew Benny had to prepare himself, too, so for the most part, he left him to do his own thing.

Even though the other performances were good, too, Ethan didn’t focus on any of them. He was waiting for Benny. It felt like a thousand performances were done before Benny had come on stage when in reality, the number was likely in the double digits. He didn’t count and he didn’t care. Of course, he’d care if Rory, who he did eventually slap for what he did, was on stage, but he was told the more fast-paced musical performances would be done later.

When Benny was finally on stage, Ethan could tell that he was nervous but hiding it. It was subtle, but he could tell Benny wasn’t fully calm. That was normal, though. As he performed, however, he seemed to get calmer and calmer. Focused. That was the word. He had heard Benny practice this song before, so he was trying to subtly look around the room to see how people were reacting. Some people weren’t really focused on the show in general. But those who were didn’t give away much from their expressions and body language. A minority of people were whispering amongst each other. Ethan wondered if they were just conversing about Benny or about something else.

After the performance, people clapped, as they did with every student, and Ethan could see Benny’s shoulders drop a little. You can relax now, he thought. You did it. He’d tell him that later. And he was proud. His grandmother would be proud. His parents would be proud.

~.~.~.~.~

After Ethan met up with Benny and congratulated him on the performance, they’d both decided to go relax a little. “What do you wanna do?” Ethan asked.

Benny bit on his lower lip and looked around as they exited the school. It was getting a little late now but it wasn’t dinner time yet. “I want ice cream so bad,” Benny said.

Now Ethan, too, wanted ice cream. That sounded like a good idea right now. “I’m craving that brownie ice cream we once had.”

“Sounds great. And it’s not too far away. Share some ice cream maybe?” he asked with a grin and a wink. Ethan felt his cheeks get hot. He’s never been in any relationship, so it felt strange to have someone wink or say something flirty to him. Benny just laughed and took Ethan’s hand. “Come on, slowpoke.” He started walking faster and Ethan was now forced to go at Benny’s pace, too.

“I’ll pay today,” he said. “But that’s only because I want you to play piano for me tomorrow.” Also because he figured Benny was tired, but he didn’t care about admitting to that.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play twinkle twinkle.”

“Boo!”

“You didn’t specify which song,” Benny said, sticking his tongue at Ethan.

Despite it all – despite the tiredness, despite the hectic weeks they’ve been through, the two were still the same. They were Benny and Ethan. They would argue, they would joke around, they would support each other. Even a secret like a piano didn’t tear them apart. What came out instead was an even stronger bond. Because the two of them could understand each other. Finally, Ethan felt satisfied with every aspect in his life – family, education, friends, and dating.

And Ethan couldn’t be any happier.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

The Fall (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary: Naomi has huge news to give Ethan, but things don’t always go as planned.

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: This is my first Open Heart fic. Let me know if you guys enjoy!

“And there it is.”

“That’s it? That tiny little thing?”

“Yup. That’s your baby. And the little flicker you see on the screen? That’s the heartbeat.”

“Can I hear it?”

“Not until the second trimester. I’d say you’re at 8 weeks right now.”

Dr. Naomi Valentine Ramsey stared at the screen in front of her with rapt attention. She had never seen something so magical in her 29 years on earth. That tiny little flicker on a monitor was hers. Her baby.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. “It’s beautiful.”

Dr. Brenda Forbes, one of Edenbrook’s best attending OB/GYNs smiled at her colleague. “Yeah. I have five kids myself and seeing them for the first time is always the best.”

“Five? I don’t know if Ethan and I can manage five.”

“You’d be surprised, Naomi. I’ve known Ethan for 13 years. I never thought he would get married, but here we are. You may very well have five little humans.”

Being married to Ethan was still a dream. After months of fighting their feelings for each other since she was officially part of his diagnostics team, they finally decided to stop kidding themselves and seriously see where their relationship could lead them. Seven months later, they were at Naveen’s gorgeous lake house, exchanging vows in front of their family and close friends.

“We’ll focus on this one for now,” Naomi started. “It is just one, right?”

“Yes, just one.”

“Good.”

“How are you going to tell him?”

That hadn’t even crossed Naomi’s mind. How was she going to tell him? Would she do something cute and cheesy like buy a onesie that says “World’s Best Daddy” or would she be straightforward and spit it out as soon as she saw him?

“I don’t know,” Naomi replied honestly. “With our crazy schedules, I actually don’t think I’ve even properly seen him in the last 36 hours. He was still here last night when I took the pregnancy tests at home. And when I got up to get ready for work, he was fully clothed, passed out in the living room with the dog, and I didn’t bother waking him. But we’re both off tomorrow, so I’ll think of something.”

“He’s going to be excited.”

“I hope so.” They had talked about kids, extensively, and they knew they wanted to have them at some point, but they never set an official timeline when it came to family planning and baby making. They weren’t actively trying, but they weren’t not trying either. So Naomi couldn’t be too shocked when all six of her EPTs (she always was one for overachieving) came back positive.

“Ethan adores you and everyone at this hospital with semi decent vision can see that. He’s going to be ecstatic.”

Naomi didn’t reply, opting to let the optimistic words of her doctor wash over her. Brenda was right. She and Ethan wanted this, Ethan would be excited.

“Do you want a prescription for folic acid and prenatals, or do you want to pick them up at a local drug store?”

“I don’t want any nosy pharmacy techs knowing I’m pregnant,” Naomi said. Over the last 3 years, she had become hospital gossip fodder and it was annoying. “I’ll pick some up from CVS on my way home.”

“Fair enough. I will see you again in 4 weeks for your next appointment. You can schedule it in the waiting area.”

“Deal.”

“Now, let’s print out an obnoxious amount of pictures.”

Fifteen minutes later, Naomi was exiting the locker room after safely tucking her ultrasound pictures away and making her way to the cafeteria. She spotted Bryce flipping through a chart. “Hey, Bryce!”

He looked up from his chart and flashed a large smile once he saw Naomi walking towards him. “Hey. I haven’t seen you around today.”

“I’ve been here. You know I never leave this place.”

“I’m having an awesome day,” Bryce announced. “I assisted on an emergency spleen removal with Dr. Rodriguez, and in a few hours I get to do a craniotomy with Dr. Emery.”

“Aren’t you on cloud nine, you hot shot.”

“More like cloud infinity. What about you?”

“My day’s been…great,” Naomi said honestly. Her doctor appointment was amazing. “And when I’m off in a few hours, I get to go home, put on my rattiest pajamas and eat greasy fast food with Ethan.”

“Dr. Ethan Ramsey eats greasy fast food?” Bryce asked, half teasing, half amazed.

“Occasionally. Most of the time he’s nagging at me to eat better, but I’m not listening to him tonight. I’m craving pepperoni pizza. And wings.”

“That sounds great,” Bryce sighed. He was going to be eating a cafeteria sandwich for dinner. “Hey, you want to get something from the caf? I need caffeine.”

“You read my mind, Lahela. That’s actually where I was headed.”

Before they could even make it all the way down the hall to the staircase, their pagers went off. There was an emergency down in the ER, and it was an all hands on deck situation.

“Rain check on that coffee, Omi?”

“Yup. I’m holding you to it though. And you’ll buy me a bagel.”

“Oof, you drive a hard bargain.” They made their way to the stairs. “On the bright side, I might be able to get a cool surgery out of this.”

“Ever the optimist,” Naomi teased with an eye roll. Only doctors could get excited about high stress accidents and emergencies.

Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi saw an overzealous intern flying down the hall as they started down the stairs, on his way to the ER. She was able to step aside in time, grabbing the handrail for support. But the guy ran into Bryce, bumping him on the shoulder, without as much as a backward glance.

“Hey, watch it!” Bryce called out but the other doctor didn’t acknowledge him. “God, were we that obnoxious our intern year?”

“I hope not-“

A few more of them followed behind, pushing past them to get downstairs to the ER. One of them knocked into Naomi, causing her to lose her balance.

It was like a slow motion car crash, in which no one could look away or move fast enough to do anything to stop it. Bryce quickly reached out in an attempt to grab her arm and catch her, but it was too late and Naomi went tumbling down the stairs until she landed at the bottom with a loud thud on the cold hard floors.

“Naomi!” Bryce raced down the stairs, and a few doctors who happened to be standing by rushed towards her as well. “Oh my god, Naomi, are you okay?”

Everything hurt. Her entire body was screaming out in pain, but she could barely respond. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move.

Her head was foggy and she was dizzy. She could hear Bryce and a nurse attempting to talk to her in the background, but it mostly sounded like a loud ringing. She gingerly touched the top of her head and felt something wet, which she quickly surmised was blood.

“Mhmmm,” Naomi grumbled, still not really listening to Bryce.

Bryce looked up and pointed at the first nurse he could find. “Page the other Dr. Ramsey, tell him it’s Naomi and it’s an emergency.”

“Okay, Dr. Lahela.”

Bryce gently touched Naomi’s head. “Naomi, can you hear me?”

“My head hurts.”

“Yeah, you took quite the fall.”

Naomi’s hand flew to her stomach, but she recoiled instantly as an indescribable pain radiated through her entire rib cage. Hot tears stung the corner of her eyes. “My stomach. Bryce, my stomach!”

“Naomi, I need you to relax,” Bryce ordered. “Calm down. Breathe.”

Naomi tried to reposition herself and touch her stomach from a different angle, but another intense pain shot through her body. Another doctor came over with a bed, and they lifted Naomi up, also putting her in a neck brace so she couldn’t move and exacerbate her injury.

“We need to do a CT scan to see if she has a concussion or any other type of head injury,” Bryce explained to the other doctor as they started wheeling her to the radiology department. “Maybe a chest or abdominal x-ray to check for any trauma.”

The mention of getting an x-ray exam sent Naomi into a panic. All of the radiation could be bad for the baby. She reached out and squeezed Bryce’s scrub top. “No! No, no x-ray. No CT scan.”

“I’m not a neurologist by any means, but I’m pretty sure you have a head injury that we need to check out.”

“I can’t.”

“If you’re scared, I won’t leave your side until Ethan–”

“I’m pregnant,” Naomi confessed, cutting her friend off.

Bryce sucked in a deep breath at the revelation. That changed everything. “Okay. CT scan for your head only, and the fastest chest x-ray we’ve ever performed.”

Naomi tried to take breath to calm down, but it hurt too much to inhale, so her breath was coming out in quick, short bursts. Her head was still pounding violently and Naomi wanted nothing more than to close her eyes.

Bryce turned back to Naomi and noticed her eyelids getting heavy and drifting shut. He gently shook her shoulder. “Omi, I need you to stay awake. Keep your eyes open, okay?”

She could hear the words, and she knew what Bryce was saying was correct, but the pull was stronger than she was able to fight. She closed her eyes and slipped into dark nothingness. The last thing she remembered was silently praying that her baby would be okay.

~|~

On the other side of the hospital, Ethan was in a meeting with all of the other department heads and Naveen, going over budgets and quotas and other boring administrative dribble that Ethan didn’t care about.

His pager was consistently going off, but Naveen had a strict rule about not using pagers during their meetings. They were only 45 minutes long, and the doctors delegated all of their work, so there was no need to be contacted.

He could feel his cell phone vibrating against his thigh in his pants pocket, as if someone was calling him or sending him a lot of text messages.

While he couldn’t very well pull out his phone, he could always check the messages in his Apple Watch, and Naveen would be none the wiser. His notification tab was full of messages, all from Bryce.

Dr. Bryce Lahela: Dr. Ramsey, 911!

Dr. Bryce Lahela: Naomi had a fall, taking her to get a CT. She’s unconscious.

Dr. Bryce Lahela: update: she has a concussion, consulting w/ neuro rn

Dr. Bryce Lahela: Taking her to ER now, Sienna and Aurora r w/ me

Dr. Bryce Lahela: She still hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable. Moved to a private room

Dr. Bryce Lahela: Helloooooo, are you getting my messages?

Dr. Bryce Lahela: DUDE!

Dr. Bryce Lahela: Fuck, a nurse just reminded me you’re in meeting with Dr. Banjeri, so you probably haven’t seen any of these. Sorry.

Just come as soon as you’re available

Ethan’s blood ran cold as he read the messages and a wave of nausea rolled through his gut. As if on autopilot, he jumped out of his seat, starling his co-workers.

“Ethan?” Naveen prodded. “What are you doing?”

“I need to go,” Ethan said, grabbing his coat.

“If he’s leaving, I’d like to go too,” another doctor added.

“No one is going anywhere,” Naveen added firmly. “Ethan, sit back down.”

“There’s an emergency,”

“This is a hospital full of perfectly capable doctors who can handle–“

“Naomi is hurt,” Ethan said, cutting off his mentor and boss. “I’m leaving.” His tone let it be known that there was no room for argument. It was a definitive statement, no debate.

Naveen’s face softened at the mention of the young doctor and Ethan’s wife. He knew if something was wrong, there would be no stopping Ethan from finding her.

Naveen sighed and waved Ethan away. “Go ahead.”

Without another word, Ethan quickly exited the large conference room and made his way to the other side of the hospital as fast as his legs could carry him.

Once in the recovery unit, he stopped at the nurse’s station, stopping the nearest orderly he could find. “Where’s Naomi Ramsey’s room?”

The orderly rounded the nurse’s station and logged onto a computer. “She’s down the hall in room 458.”

Without saying thanks, Ethan left the nurse’s station and headed towards the room. His eyes instantly found Naomi, sitting up in bed. She had a bandage on her head and one wrapped around her right ankle. There were so many wires and IVs and monitors, he felt himself getting overwhelmed.

“Rookie!” He rushed to her bedside and gently grabbed her face, peppering it with kisses. He kissed the crown of her head, instantly relaxing as he inhaled the coconut scented shampoo Naomi was so obsessed with. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I was in a meeting and I couldn’t check my cell.”

“It’s fine.”

“Thank god, you’re okay. What happened?”

“Bryce and I were on our way to the ER because we got paged, and out of nowhere a group of interns came flying past us,” Naomi explained. “One of them bumped into me and I fell down the stairs.”

“An intern? An intern did this to you?”

“They were overeager and in a rush to experience their first night in mass chaos in the ER.”

“Are you alright?” Ethan asked. “Where’s your chart? What does it say?”

“Why don’t I just call for my doctor,” Naomi suggested. She grabbed the red button at her bedside and pressed down on it. Within a minute, a doctor entered the room.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Carter, I’ve been assigned to Dr. Ramsey’s case. Missus Dr. Ramsey, obviously.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at the doctor. She looked young. Incredibly young. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m an intern, I’ve only been here for a month.”

Ethan didn’t know how he felt about an intern being in charge of his wife’s health, especially since one of them was the reason she was in the hospital in the first place.

“Well, nice to meet you, Dr. Carter. What’s going on, will Naomi be okay?”

“Dr. Ramsey fell down the stairs and as a result, has a concussion. She also bruised two of her ribs, but they didn’t fracture and should heal within a few weeks. We’ve been making her take very deep breaths every few minutes just to keep the lungs clear and prevent infection. And she twisted her ankle in the fall, so she should try to keep it iced and elevated as much as possible. When Dr. Ramsey is discharged, she’ll be given a pair of crutches. We are going to keep her overnight for monitoring, because she did lose consciousness as a result of the fall, but all in all, she and the baby are fine.”

Ethan let out a heavy sigh of relief at the prognosis. He squeezed Naomi’s hand tightly. “Oh that’s the best–did you say baby? What baby?”

Dr. Carter looked at Naomi, her eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“It’s alright, Doctor. Can I have a moment alone with my husband, please?”

“Of course.” Dr. Carter scurried out of the room, softly shutting the door behind her.

Ethan looked back at Naomi. “A baby? Are you pregnant?”

She nodded. “Yes. I had been suspecting it for a few days now, and I finally took some tests last night. When they all came back positive, I made an appointment with Dr. Forbes and she confirmed it this morning with a urine sample and ultrasound. I wanted to tell you tonight, or tomorrow, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

“How far along are you?”

“Only 8 weeks. If my math is correct, we’ll be having a Spring baby. Late April, early May.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby.” Ethan reaches out to touch Naomi’s stomach but stopped himself when he remembered that her ribs were bruised. Naomi instantly took notice of his hesitance. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Well this wasn’t a planned pregnancy, and we don’t have a house, and we’re both so busy here, and–”

Ethan cut Naomi off with a kiss. She was rigid for a second before responding, kissing him back with equal force.

When the urge to breathe became too much, Naomi pulled away. “Did you do that to shut me up?”

“Did it work?” Ethan asked with a slight smirk.

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” Ethan ran his hands through her hair, tucking a single curly strand behind her ear. “No, we don’t have a house, but we live in a 3 bedroom, 3500 square-foot condo in the heart of the city. I think that’s more than enough space for two adults, a dog, and an infant.” That managed to get half a smile out of Naomi. “But if you want to move to the suburbs and have a white picket fence and HOA fees and neighbors who bring us pies, I’m okay with that as well. I’ll give you whatever you want. And true, we didn’t plan this pregnancy, but I love you more than anything else on this earth and I want kids with you, and I’m over the moon.”

Naomi visibly relaxed at his words. “Really?”

“Really.” A tear rolled down Naomi’s cheek and Ethan caught it with his thumb. “Why are you crying, Rookie?”

“Because you’re so sweet. And I’m emotional because this isn’t how I wanted to tell you, at all. And you aren’t even the first person to find out, Bryce was.”

“I can live with that.”

“You aren’t even in the top 3,” Naomi added. “I told Bryce, and he told the x-ray technician, and then I told Aurora and Sienna.”

“It’s fine, I promise.” Excitement bubbled in Ethan’s chest. He was actually going to be a dad. He was having a baby with Naomi, his brilliant and amazing wife. He surged forward and kissed her again, this time without as much fervor. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

But as excited as he was, he couldn’t ignore the anger simmering under the surface. Someone so carelessly injured his wife without a care in the world, and things could’ve ended up being so much worse. And sure, he’s only known about this baby for 5 minutes, but he loved it more than life itself already, and if anything were to compromise Naomi’s pregnancy, there would be hell to pay. He knew Naomi would want him to let it go and just focus on the positive, but he wasn’t as nice and benevolent as she.

She noticed his tension and reached out, stroking his cheek. “Relax, darling. I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t have been put in this position to begin with.”

“Don’t do anything crazy, like hunting for the intern who knocked me down. It was an accident”

Ethan looked Naomi in the eye, as if he wanted to argue with her, but he held off. “I’ll drop it. Only because you asked me to.”

“Thank you.”

“But they do need to know that running through a crowded hospital is dangerous,” Ethan continued. “Maybe I’ll send out a memo. Or make all of the interns watch hour long safety training videos.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. She knew Ethan wasn’t going to let this go and she’d have to compromise with him somewhere. “I can agree to those conditions.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Ethan asked. He reached out to stroke Naomi’s cheek again. Just seeing her wasn’t good enough, he needed to touch her.

“Yes. I have a bit of a headache, and my ribs are hurting like crazy right now, but other than that, everything is good. In a few weeks, I’ll be good as new.”

There was a knock at the door and Bryce walked in, a small teddy bear in his hands. “Naomi, are you–oh, hello Ethan!”

“Bryce,” Ethan greeted. He stood up and wrapped his arms around the young surgeon. Bryce was stunned into silence, not really knowing what to do. Ethan Ramsey never really struck him as the type of man to dole out hugs. He looked over Ethan’s shoulder and gave Naomi a wild look. She laughed him off and silently mouthed, “Just go with it.”

Ethan released Bryce from the hug after one more measure. “Thank you so much for everything you did to help Naomi today.”

“Of course, she’s one of my best friends. There was nowhere else I’d be.”

“Well, I am eternally grateful. Seriously, I owe you one.”

Bryce looked down in an attempt to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Don’t even mention it.” He remembered the plush teddy bear in his hands and gave it to Naomi. “Here.”

She smiled down at the soft bear. “Aww, thank you. But you didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“Um…it’s not for you, actually,” Bryce admitted. “It’s for the baby. His or hers first gift from their godfather, Bryce.”

Naomi smirked. “Godfather, eh?”

“After today, I think I’ve earned the prestigious title.”

Naomi shot a quick glance towards Ethan, who nodded. “You’d have to be the one to tell Elijah though.”

Bryce nodded. “That’s fine. Be warned though, I’m going to be the best godfather the world has ever seen. Your child wants to go on a shopping spree? Uncle Bryce has them covered. They want to sneak into the gallery and watch super cool surgeries? Done.”

“Now I don’t think–”

“They want to go skydiving or get a tattoo for their 16th birthday? I’m their guy!”

Naomi’s eyes widened. She turned to Ethan. “I think I’m already regretting my decision.”

[thequeenxofhearts]

Horror House | Scooby Doo Fanfic Chapter 8

Rated M

Nine o’clock in the morning, the air was cool and slightly breezy, the sun was rising over Clifford House, almost as if it was a sign.

“Are you going to be ok?” Fred asked. “Yeah, I’ll solider through.” Shaggy said, “These innocent people are relyin’ on me, these kids are relyin’ on us.” He looked at the team of detectives who were gathered outside Clifford House.

It had been a week since the arrests and Fred and Shaggy joined Alessandro, Green and a few other detectives from Topaz Police Station to recover the victims buried on the house grounds, using the map that Luelle Clifford had made.

The road was blocked half a mile left and right of the house, to stop any media intrusion and crime scene contamination. The news was all over the murder case, but the names of the victims had not been released. In fact, they only mentioned that two people had been murdered, they had not been identified.

This was the only time that Fred felt relieved that Daphne wasn’t with him. When they recovered the victims from the ground the detectives made comments, about how cruel someone could be to do this to innocent people. Then they recovered the remains of the Clifford Children, the group of detectives had to take a break.

“Listen up people,” Shaggy said, as he looked at the faces of the detectives, “We’re here today for these people, includin’ these kids. They’re countin’ on us t’help them. So, let’s get back to work.”

Fred admired that Shaggy, even in a time of despair, could always think so positively, and his speech encouraged the detectives, who, as Shaggy put it, “soldiered on”.

By the end of the day, they had recovered the remains twenty-four victims. The bodies of the couple who were murdered the other night in the hotel, were recovered from the basement on the night of the arrests.

The remains were taken straight to the lab for examination.

And when the gang returned to New York the next day, not much had changed since leaving Michigan.

Daphne and Fred rarely slept, sleepless night number eight was coming up. Every time, Daphne closed her eyes she saw Luelle with an axe or hearing the words in the back of her mind, “The children are buried in the garden.” And Daphne would wake in a cold sweat.

Fred drank four cups of coffee in the morning to keep him awake while he drove the gang back to New York, refusing to let anyone take over from him. HIis mother was phoning them every hour, checking up on them.

When Shaggy hadn’t drunk himself into a blacked out ‘sleep’, he and Scooby stayed awake, not talking or watching TV, but sitting in silence. When they returned to Buffalo, Shaggy and Scooby walked around the local park, there were kids playing on the swing set, Mr Goldblum threw a tennis ball for his dogs to chase, and a group of small children were playing Duck, Duck, Goose and laughed with excitement.

For a few seconds they forgot about the murder case, until they saw a man reading a newspaper headlined; 24 BODIES RECOVERED IN CLIFFORD MURDER CASE.

Then it was time to go home. Whilst they were away, a new kebab shop opened up by their apartment building, and Shaggy was grateful that they had the Subway across the road from their office.

Velma was the only one who slept, she was the only one who made it through the day without crying or rethinking about their night at the hotel. She slept through her nightmares, she thought if she got the sleep she needed she didn’t care about the nightmares, she thought they would go away soon, but it would be months until she slept without seeing Luelle and Thomas Clifford in her dreams. If she ‘soldiered on’ through the day, then it made her feel a little bit better, and the gang admired her.

The day after they returned to Buffalo, they were in their office.

The results from the lab were sent to them, the detectives had successfully identified the victims, they knew that 6 of the victims were Elias, Toby, Maggie and Rosie Clifford and the two who the gang had witnessed being murdered in the hotel, they were identified as Rachel and Michael Herman.

Daphne and Fred sat in the office, going through all the missing persons files from the victims to get the addresses of their families. They decided that they were going to visit their families and give them the unfortunate news. Velma, Scooby and Shaggy stayed behind, Shaggy dealt with the press who had gathered outside their office. Daphne and Fred went out the back way to Daphne’s car.

“Two of our colleagues have gone t’inform the families of the victims. Before anymore details are released, the families have the right t’have their privacy respected and the time t’grieve.” Shaggy said, before he returned to the office and pulled the blinds down, the press left not long after.

Daphne drove back to Michigan, “Do you think we should have flown?” Fred asked. “What, and be hassled by the press, no we’ll be fine.” Daphne said. “Are we going to-” Fred began. “No, we’re not staying in a hotel, we’ll sleep in the car.” Daphne said, stubbornly.

This was something else he would have to get them both through, a new fear of hotels. Sounds ridiculous but after the night they had, Daphne told herself she’d never go into another hotel again.

One of the victims was Sarah Jane Pepper, Fred read the file and told Daphne that she has four sisters; one older and three youngers.

Daphne and Fred parked outside the house, it was lucky if Sarah’s family still lived there as she had been missing for five years. Daphne looked at the house through the car window, a white picket fence, surrounded the pale blue house.

As they walked up the path, Daphne admired the flowers growing in the front garden. This is how she imagined her house with Fred.

Fred knocked on the door. A woman opened the door, she greeted them with a smile. Her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, she was probably in her mid-forties. “Hello.” She smiled. “Hello, are you Mrs Pepper?” Daphne asked. “Yes, who might you be.” The lady asked.

“I’m Detective Jones and this is my partner Detective Blake, may we come in?” He asked, Daphne and Fred showed her their badges, which they had recovered from the hotel. Mrs Pepper looked into his eyes, her smile fade, she nodded. “It’s about Sarah, isn’t it?” She asked. “Yes.” Daphne said.

“Please sit down.” Mrs Pepper said as she led Fred and Daphne into the living room, “I’ll get my husband.” She wondered into another room, “I think she knows.” Daphne said quietly. Mrs Pepper returned with a man who looked like the girl in the picture inside the file Fred held.

“We were investigating the disappearance of Harry and Jessica Allen.” Daphne began, “We discovered that they had stayed at the Clifford House Hotel, in Ironwood. Your daughter also stayed there.” Daphne said, she felt her heart racing, how can she tell them their daughter was murder and buried, leaving the Pepper’s thinking she was missing.

“Unfortunately.” Daphne shuddered, “Unfortunately, your daughter was killed in the hotel.”

“What?” Mr Pepper asked. “We arrested one of the murders just over a week ago, the other one was killed when the police raided the house.” Fred said.

“When… When was Sarah killed.” Mrs Pepper asked. “Five years ago.” Daphne said, “Before she was reported missing.”

Mrs Pepper burst into tears, Mr Pepper held her. “How do you know it’s Sarah, for sure? The killers could have been lying.” He said, trying to remain calm. Daphne took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair.

“Sarah was one of twenty-six, they were all found buried in the grounds of the hotel.” Daphne said, she felt like she was going to throw up, her skin turned pale as she watched the couple cry. She heard a noise from upstairs, like a door closing and out the corner of her eye she saw a figure looking down from the staircase, it was one of Sarah’s sisters, she looked around eleven years old, so she would have been six when Sarah disappeared.

Mrs Pepper saw her daughter too, “Megan,” She said. “Get your sisters and come here.” The little girl stepped back up the stairs and returned with four other girls, they all looked like Sarah, same colour eyes, same jaw and nose, but the eldest had darker hair and the youngest, Megan, had blonde hair, like her dad, Sarah had the same hair colour.

Mr and Mrs Pepper broke the news to their daughters, one of them ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door whilst the other three cried with their parents.

Daphne took Mrs Pepper into the kitchen and helped her make coffee for her husband and warm milk for her daughters, Mrs Pepper smiled as she made the warm milk, “It was Sarah’s idea to give Laura and Megan warm milk when they were sick and when they were sad.”

“Mrs Pepper, I don’t know if this will help you, but I know it would help me. One of the killers, the one who was arrested, will be trialled soon, the courthouse has offered to save seats for the families if you want to attend. It’ll be difficult I know, but it might give you closure.” Daphne said.

“Have you ever lost anyone, close to you?” Mrs Pepper asked. “No, but my sister has.” Daphne said, “Her best friend was killed in a car accident, the other driver was on his phone. My sister went to the courthouse, she listened to the sentencing and she said it helped.” Daphne replied.

Mrs Pepper nodded, “We will think about it.” Daphne nodded, she wrote her phone number down on a page from her notepad and gave it to Mrs Pepper. “If you decide you want to go to the trail, or if you need me, you can ring me.” She said.

Mrs Pepper took the number and wrapped her arms around Daphne, “Thank you Detective.” She said, “Call me Daphne.” Mrs Pepper smiled.

“That’s my name too.” Daphne smiled.

Daphne and Fred visited the other families, it was hard to watch parents and the siblings cry when they told them the awful news, a lot of the families agreed to go to the trial, some didn’t, and Fred and Daphne accepted that.

And though it was a rough day, Daphne felt that she could sleep better at night, knowing that some of the families were going to get closure, and the victims were getting justice.

When they returned to their office later that night, they were relieved to see that the press had gone. Velma, Shaggy and Scooby had also gone home, Daphne and Fred put the files back in the office before they returned to their home.

The next morning the phone rang, “Hello?” Daphne answered it, still half asleep with Fred’s arm draped over her as he was still snuggled close to her. “Daphne! Turn on Channel Five, quick!” Velma screamed down the phone. Daphne grabbed the remote, turned the TV on and put on Channel 5. Fred woke up when he heard the TV, he sat up and looked at the screen.

A news anchor sat at the desk saying the words, “Judge Arlo James has called for a retrial for Jack English, who, we now learn, was wrongly accused of murdering Beatrice Clifford, nine years ago. We don’t have many details on the Clifford murder case, but new evidence suggests Jack English was not the murderer.”

Daphne ran her hand through her hair. “This is going to be one hell of a trial.” She said. Fred climbed out of bed and made them both coffees, “We’d better get down to the office and get the papers ready.” He said.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

rule of three - chapter 33

RULE OF THREE CHAPTER INDEX HERE. 

“And you did all this yourself?” Victoria asks, a wine glass in one hand. She reaches out her other hand to trace the tiles of the kitchen splashback.

“I got the experts in for the plumbing and rewiring,” Chris says. “Everything else though, yeah.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says with what he thinks might even be a genuine smile. “I know you’ll be very happy here.”

“Thank you,” he says, and swallows. “Thank you.”

She pats him on the forearm and goes back to join the party.

 ***

Chris hadn’t seen the need for a housewarming party for the loft, but Peter had insisted.

“I mean, at least we’ll get some houseplants out of it, right?” he’d said.

Right now Chris is staring at what looks like a peace lily sitting on the kitchen counter. There’s a ribbon tied in a bow around the ceramic pot. He leans forward to check the little tag planted like a flag in the soil. Yeah. Definitely a peace lily. Who would even…?

He spots the second tag.

From Cora. Figured you guys could use all the help you could get.

Chris snorts. He’s not sure if it’s referring to the past few weeks of total bloody mayhem, or a not-so-subtle dig at their personalities. With Cora, it could be either or both. She is Peter’s niece through and through.

Tonight though, Cora looks almost soft and shy as she sits squeezed into one of the armchairs with Isaac. They pair of them have barely made eye contact all night, but they’ve been holding hands since Cora arrived.

They’ll be okay, Chris thinks, and wonders when he started believing in happy ever afters for teenagers. Probably when he got involved with one himself, he figures.

Talia sweeps into the kitchen, grabs another bottle of wine, and sweeps out again. She smiles warmly at Chris on her way.

The housewarming is a bigger gathering than Chris had expected, but, then again, there are a lot of Hales. A few of the younger ones are scooting up and down the spiral staircase, which is sure to end in tears, and Derek is doing his best to curtail them. He’s failing hopelessly. They have him outnumbered.

Peter and Ally are standing in front of the bookshelves. Ally is holding a volume in her hands, and Peter is talking animatedly about it. Ally’s smiling though, and interjecting occasionally, so Chris figures she hasn’t been totally trapped. Stiles’s friend Scott is standing beside her, looking at her like she hung the moon.

Victoria is talking to Peter’s brother William over by the windows.

Laura and Jordan Parrish are here as well, along with what seems like half the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. John, sitting on the couch with a soda in his shaking hand, is never without someone beside him. Most often it’s Stiles, bringing him food, or chattering about something, or showing him that video on his phone where the otters are holding hands. John looks relaxed, his smile broad as he talks with Stiles. Chris doesn’t miss the way he looks around for Isaac every few minutes, just to check he’s still okay.

A few of Peter’s colleagues from the college are here as well, including Alan Deaton. He wanders into the kitchen to leave a plate by the sink, and Chris catches his gaze.

“You have a beautiful home, Chris,” Deaton says.

“Thank you.” Chris offers him a fresh beer. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about Stiles.”

Deaton tilts his head. “I’m his psychologist, Chris. There’s not a lot I can say.”

“Are we doing the wrong thing here?” Chris asks, afraid of any answer Deaton might give him.

Deaton reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. His expression is warm. “Are you moving too quickly? Maybe. But are you doing the wrong thing? I don’t know. Life is complicated. Love is. You took a hell of a chance on Peter once. I think Stiles deserves the same chance, don’t you?”

Chris takes a swig from his beer. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Like you hurt Peter?” Deaton’s tone is soft. “Then don’t.”

“Is it really that easy?” Chris asks, his throat aching a little.

“You’re not the same person you were when you met Peter.” Deaton smiles. “And Stiles is not the same person Peter was. This isn’t another turn on the same old carousel, Chris. This is something new.”

From the living area, Stiles lets out a burst of brilliant laughter at something someone says.

This is something new.

 ***

 Most of the guests are gone by midnight, the Hales carrying out their sleeping kids. Parrish offers to take a bag of garbage downstairs when he goes, and Peter loads him up with two. When Chris closes the door behind him and heads back to the living room, John is putting his jacket on and fumbling with the zip.

“I got it,” Stiles says, and does it for him. Then he glances over to where Peter and Chris are cleaning up. “Um, so I might stay the night?”

Chris freezes, hand outstretched toward a plate.

He’s glad he hadn’t picked it up when John answers. He’s pretty sure he would have dropped it.

“Okay,” John says. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Stiles grins and flushes. “Thanks, Dad.”

John sends Chris and Peter a steady, warning look.

John digs into his pocket and produces his car keys. He holds them out to a surprised Isaac.

“I’m a little too worn out and shaky to drive right now,” he says. “Can I trust you to get us home without putting a dent in the car?”

“Yes!” Isaac grins. “Um, yes, s—” He clears his throat. “Yes, Dad.”

“Good boy,” John says, and claps him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

Chris walks them to the door.

“Goodnight,” John says, and Chris waits for the verbal warning that doesn’t come.

“Goodnight,” he echoes at last, and shuts the door behind them.

 ***

 Stiles says he’ll help with the clean up, but before long he’s perched on the ladder on the bookshelves, chewing his bottom lip and watching them both avidly.

“That was presumptuous, right?” he asks at last. “To invite myself to stay like that.”

“Oh,” Peter says airily, swiping a sponge over the dining table, “I do like a bit of presumption now and again.”

“I mean…I could sleep on the couch?”

Chris exchanges a look with Peter.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, sweetheart,” Peter says, his voice suddenly low, and thick as honey.

“Not unless you want to,” Chris clarifies, because seduction is one thing, but clear and explicit consent is another.

Stiles curls his long fingers around the rail of the ladder. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to sleep on the couch.”

Well then.

The rest of the cleaning can wait until morning.

 ***

 Stiles laughs when Peter pushes into his space and presses up against him. His laughter dies with a bitten off moan as Peter takes his hands and holds them over his head. His shirt rides up, and Chris’s gaze is drawn to the thin band of pale skin it exposes.

Chris moves in beside Peter, and reaches out to touch that skin. Stiles squirms, his shoes knocking against the rungs of the ladder. Chris slides a knee in between his legs in case he slips, and Stiles jerks forward. He sucks in a breath and drops his head back against the ladder, and watches them both with his dark eyes.

Chris moves his hands to the button on Stiles’s jeans.

Stiles nods, a breath shuddering out of him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Peter murmurs as Chris opens Stiles’s jeans and tugs them down. Stiles’s dick is hard, pressing up against his underwear. There’s a damp patch on the fabric, and Chris’s mouth waters as he remembers the taste of Stiles’s dick. He hooks his thumbs over the elastic of Stiles’s underwear, and eases the fabric down.

Stiles moans and squirms, the flush on his face extending down his throat and disappearing into his shirt. Chris suddenly wants to see all of him.

“Bed?” he asks.

“Y-yeah,” Stiles says.

Peter leans in and licks a stripe up the side of Stiles’s cheek before he releases his wrists. Chris steps back, and Stiles takes a moment to catch his breath. Then, seemingly remembering his jeans and underwear are still tangled around his thighs, he smirks and hitches them up again.

Peter leads the way up the stairs, tugging Stiles gently by the hand.

Chris follows.

Their bedroom door is closed, off limits for all the little Hale kids and their sugar-sticky fingers from earlier in the night. Peter pushes the door open and flicks on the light.

“Nice,” Stiles says, his gaze falling on the bed. “Pretty much how I imagined.”

“You imagined our bed a lot?” Peter asks.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Duh.”

Chris laughs softly. Peter can always be relied upon to tease and Stiles, apparently, can be relied upon to not give a fuck. Chris likes that about him. A lot. He knows what he wants, and he’s happy to admit it.

Seems like that’s going to be a nice change after he and Peter took twenty fucking years to get their shit together. Stiles is infinitely complicated, infinitely fascinating, but he doesn’t do bullshit.

“You’re not the only one who imagined you in our bed,” Peter says. He tugs Stiles forward by the hips, and peels his shirt off.

“You too,” Stiles says when his head reappears, hair mussed up.

Peter swaggers forward, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing himself inch by inch to Stiles’s appreciative gaze.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Stiles mutters, and stares at Chris.

Chris pulls his shirt off.

“I think I’ve won some kind of lottery,” Stiles says frankly, rubbing his hand against the bulge in his jeans. His expression shifts into something more serious. “You guys have condoms, right? I mean, I’m on contraceptives, but um, they’re not a hundred percent, and I feel like I’ve already given my dad too many horrifying moments this year.”

Chris remembers that Peter said Stiles wasn’t anxious about sex, only about the prospect of losing control during heat sex, and this seems to back Peter’s theory up.

Peter crosses the floor to the bedside drawer, and pulls it open. He pulls out a box of unopened condoms, and a bottle of lube that’s definitely seen some action. “Bought them just for you, sweetheart.”

Stiles’s shoulders sag a little in relief. “Thanks. I mean, I’m not in heat or anything, but, you know. Better safe than sorry.”

“Ah, yes,” Peter says. “It’s like that old joke, isn’t it? What do you call a man who pulls out before coming?”

“What?” Stiles asks, a smile already twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Daddy,” Peter deadpans.

Stiles laughs, and waggles his eyebrows. “Play your cards right and I might call you Daddy too.”

Chris almost chokes.

“Hmm,” Peter says. “Aside from the mental one-eighty I just had to do to get from actual babies to that very interesting little kink of yours, I think I could get behind that.”

Stiles grins cheekily and tugs teasingly at his jeans. “Yeah? Because I can think of something else I’d like you to get behind too.”

This isn’t something Peter and Chris have discussed, but Chris knows that gleam in Peter’s eye. He knows it well enough to predict exactly where Peter’s going to go with this. And he approves, wholeheartedly.

Peter grabs Stiles by the belt loops of his sagging jeans and reels him in for a filthy kiss that leaves Stiles breathless. He draws back then, and rubs his thumb along Stiles’s wet bottom lip. “Actually, sweetheart, how about Chris gets behind you, and you shove that lovely dick of yours in my ass first?”

Stiles blinks, jaw dropping.

Chris watches him, arousal coiling tightly in his gut.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes at last. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

He toes his shoes off, shoves his jeans and underwear down, and crosses to the bed.

Peter and Chris follow.