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anywaffle · 7 years

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More Than Things

More than Things

Fandom: Bright

Pairing: Kandomere x Reader

Word Count: 3,627

Warnings: Very lightly implied nudity, otherwise it’s all fluff.

Summary: A week of affection shown in the gifts Kandomere gives. Often times they’re far more than things.

Monday is surprisingly grey and dreary for L.A. and your mood decides to match the weather. Work hits a lull and you find yourself bored and disinterested in whatever tasks you pick up. By the time your break rolls around you’re wishing it was actually the end of shift but you’re fine enough with settling into the break room with a snack and your cell phone.

Two bites into granola bar your coworker calls you and you groan, anticipating an early call back to the front. You’re just standing when they trott in, grinning over a bouquet of beautifully arrange flowers in a lovely vase.

“Somebody’s got an admirer!”

They set the flowers on the table and point out the little card kept among the blooms with your name typed on it. You feel your heart flutter and pluck it up with gentle fingers, flipping it open to read the message inside.

To brighten your day. - K

It would be hard to argue that the smile on your face isn’t a little goofy, cheeks warm with the giddy joy suddenly filling you up. You plunk back onto the couch, letter clutch to your chest, and sigh happily.

The rest of your day is a cheerful breeze, bright as the flowers you take home to lighten your living room.

Tuesday you wake up late and scramble into work frazzled. When Kandomere texts you good morning and asks how you are you relay this to him, tone light despite your mild frustration. Work ticks on normally enough, the two of you texting back and forth when you have time.

What time is your break? He texts you a little before noon.

About 1:30 if everything goes right. Only a 15 though. You shoot back.

He goes quiet after that but you figure work just picked up, wish him safety, and hope for the possibility of a phone call later. You saw him on Saturday but that already seems so far off. Time goes on and you daydream about him.

At 1:28 your coworker calls you over. You’ve got a visitor apparently and you feel your heart racing in anticipation. You can’t help the smile that comes when you see him.

“Afternoon,” you grin, walking up to the blue haired elf.

“Afternoon,” he replies, a slight smile on his face. “Do you have time for coffee?”

It’s now that you notice the drink tray and pastry bag he has in hand, bag and cups decorated with the logo of your favorite cafe several blocks down.

“Definitely!” You chime, “you’re a sweetheart you know.”

He simply shrugs, following you out to find a patio table nearby. “I was in the area, thought you could perhaps use the caffeine,” he teases lightly.

The coffee certainly helps keep you up but the 15 minutes you get together are what truly carry you through the rest of the day.

Wednesday your laptop quits. It goes from working to blue screen to black and refuses to turn on again. It’s a long time coming honestly, you’ve been putting off upgrading for years in a bid to save money but it’s finally come back to bite you.

You’re glad to hear the files are recoverable when you go to see someone at Best Buy but they let you know you won’t be getting any more use out of the CPU or frame. Small victories, you guess. Still laptops are expensive.

Your looking at the cheapest possible replacements when Kandomere calls, a lul in work giving him time to talk to you, to let you know he’s being made to take Friday off and ask if you would possibly want to go out for dinner then, have a proper date?

The thought makes you feel a fuzzy, warm sort of happy and you answer in the affirmative before asking after his day.

“The usual,” he says, as if there’s anything usual about working to regulate and contain magic and magical items “yours?”

“Eh,” you sigh, “laptop finally died. I’m sitting in a Best Buy parking lot right now.”

“They’re selling laptops in the parking lot?” His joke catches you so off-guard you snort a little when you laugh.

“No silly, price checking. Laptops are expensive.”

“What make would you like? I’ll buy it.”

“What no! Laptops are expensive!”

“And?”

“You fixed my car 2 months ago.”

“And?”

“I can’t just… let you keep buying me things, can I? You’ll start thinking I only keep you around for your money.” You keep your tone light but it’s a legitimate worry.

“I promise I won’t,” he reassures you. “Does it really make you that uncomfortable?”

“I mean no… Yeah…? I don’t know, kinda?” you settle on.

“Half then?”

“What?”

“Would half be acceptable? That way at least you won’t be getting a cheap piece of junk.”

“You think on it a moment. That would still be a few hundred dollars but…

“Okay, half. I think I saw a nice one on sale for $600.”

“Whatever you like, darling.” The note of amused affection in his voice and the pet name make you smile. You have a new laptop before 8 and a promise of date night for Friday.

Thursday a package arrives at your house. It’s wrapped plainly, an Amazon box stamped with Fragile on the side, and you rack your brain trying to think of what it might be or when you last placed an order. It definitely has your name and address on it. A present? It’s not your birthday though, not even near it, and there’s no major holidays coming up either.

Cautious but also curious you grab a pair of scissors and cut into the tape with your face away from the box, peeking into it when it doesn’t explode or start screaming.

Whatever it is has been wrapped in brown paper and bubble wrap and surrounded by those air packing things. The fragile stamp was there for a reason then. What is this?

You reach in and start to pull away the various layers of packaging until your prize emerges, your shoulders shaking with muffled laughter at what you find.

My puns are koala-tea! is printed around a cute cartoon koala and a teacup on a coffee mug bigger than your fist. You’d seen the stupid thing online last weekend and laughed when Kandomere rolled his eyes at the pun and your declaration of, “You’re pretty quality yourself!” You’d thought it was hilarious at least.

“I can’t believe…” you mutter to yourself, going to retrieve your phone.

Kandomere is fully expecting another inconvenience when his text tone breaks the relative silence of the room. Today has been mess after mess and he’s anticipating more at this point. So, when he flips it face up and spies your name on the screen he lets himself feel a little more optimistic, and when he opens your message and is greeted by a snapshot of your smiling face he feels his spirits lift. And then he scrolls down, sees the mug in your hand, sees your photo’s caption,

looks like I got a gift from quite the koala tea fellow~

He lets himself huff a little laugh and text back

You’re welcome, hermosa.

Friday is a pleasant surprise. You love going out with Kandomere but sometimes the places he takes you have you feeling a little out of your depth. People are always kind of course, or at least cordial, but the sheer amount of affluence present can make your head spin. With that in mind you’ve really enjoyed the night so far. Dinner was somewhere more low-key, a place of with a cozy atmosphere where you didn’t feel compelled to dress like you were red carpet-ready and could pronounce most of the menu. It was nice to sit together and eat and talk about things that got missed in your Cliff Notes conversations on the phone and by the time you left you both felt light and warm and satisfied.

Now you’re riding along in the car, jamming to a playlist the two of you have been slowly building together, wondering where exactly it is you’re going. You never would have taken Kandomere for someone who likes surprises but his smirking silence now makes that clear.

Wherever it is he says you like it and you don’t doubt that. You trust him after all.

You don’t recognize the building you pull up to or the parking lot, but you note several other cars, other people parking and walking up. From the signs posted here and there you can guess that you’re on a school campus, though you’re not sure which one. Kandomere helps you out of the car, keeps his hand in yours while you approach the building. You see a lot of couples but some singles and small families too.

“Okay but seriously, where-”

His smile is frankly self-satisfied when you trail off, eyes catching the sign by the door you’re approaching.

Planetarium Shows Friday 8 p.m. and 10 p.m. $6 or $11 couples

The happy noise you let out turn his smile fond.

The kind young woman at the counter inside scans the qr code on his phone and directs you down the hall and up a set of stairs. The room you settle into is spacious and warm and you take your seats just a few minutes before the show starts. Watching the stars bloom beautifully around the room you feel your heart flutter when Kandomere reaches over and grabs your hand again. You lean into him smiling. It’s a lovely night.

Saturday you sleep in. His bed is soft and warm even without him in it and you’re happy enough being able to hear him padding around his home. You press your face into his pillow, pulled close to your chest sometime after he’d gotten up, and inhale the scent of him. The butterflies in your stomach make you smile.

You hear the bedroom door open, the soft approach of footfalls and perk up the slightest bit, turning over lazily to look up at Kandomere when he stops at your side.

“Good morning, mi alma,” he says fondly, sitting by your side. “Breakfast?”

“Sounds great” you hum sleepily, reaching up towards him to pat his cheek. “C’mere though.”

He leans down at your urging, lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. His hair falls over his shoulders and tickles your cheeks enough that you find yourself giggling against his lips. Slowly he pulls away and your taken by his starlight gaze. His eyes are soft when he looks at you, adoring and gentle.

He presses another parting kiss to your forehead and stands, calling over his shoulder “come on, before it gets cold.”

You take a moment longer to enjoy your warm cocoon, stretching arms and legs languidly between the duvet. When you finally emerge you have to take a moment to locate your clothing, no longer scattered on the floor as you’d left them but now folded neatly on the loveseat situated across the room. You pull your underwear on but pause a moment after, eyes catching on the blue button-up Kandomere had been wearing last night, settled beside your clothes. He wouldn’t mind, right?

He’s already sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with one hand, a fork full of eggs in the other. His back is to you and you take the opportunity to drape your arms over his shoulders and hug him, face pressed into his soft hair.

He chuckles quietly when you press a solid smooch to the back of his head and then back off, walking around to the other side of the table. You hear him hum when you enter his line of sight.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thanks, just got it” you joke, twirling quickly before striking a silly pose.

There’s that fond smile again, setting your heart all aflutter.

“The color suits you.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment, ducking your face into a glass of water you find next to your plate. He always gets you, doesn’t he?

The two of you eat in companionable silence, discussing plans for the day over a shared load of dishes after. Mostly it boils down to cuddling on the couch, your body draped over his while you watch the movie one of your co-workers suggested. He’s free today, or at least he’s supposed to be.

His phone rings a little passed four, the noise distant to your half asleep mind. You come back slowly with the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears, it’s usual measured timbre underlined with slight annoyance at being disturbed.

“I’ll be in shortly then,” he says, hanging up a moment later.

“You gotta go?” you ask, voice husky with sleep.

“It seems so. Come, get dressed. I’ll take you home first.”

You think to protest for a moment and then realize he wouldn’t offer if he didn’t have the time to. You raise yourself up off of him and the couch and follow him to get dressed propper. It’s a little hard not to get distracted watching him put his ensemble together, go from your lazy day boyfriend all soft at the edges to the striking MTF agent most know him as. He raises an eyebrow when he catches you staring a little too long and you decide it’ll be better if you’re facing the other direction while you pull the rest of your clothes on.

“Where do you want this?” you ask finally, holding up the shirt you’d borrowed.

“Keep it, if you’d like. It looks good on you.” He says this as he finishes buttoning his suit and you can’t help but think that he looks much better by far in anything and everything he wears. You’re happy to keep the shirt though.

You kiss him before you slip out of his car, longer and harder than the usual goodbyes you give each other. Something about his sudden calls into work make you nervous, make you worry. Sometimes you forget a bit how dangerous his job is, for all his talk of paperwork and procedure. His hand is gentle on your cheek, thumb stroking softly against your skin.

“Be safe,” you mutter against his lips.

“I will,” he promises.

You watch his car disappear down the block before you head inside, missing him already. When you dress down again, up in your appartment, you slip on his shirt and manage a small smile. It smells like him, obviously, and you can almost pretend your lazy day didn’t have to end. He’s holding you in your dreams.

Sunday you worry. Evening rolls around without a peep from him, no good morning, no good night as the time creeps closer to 11 p.m. You realize that this isn’t the first time this has happened, sometimes he gets far too busy, has a case far too important, to use his phone for anything nonessential. You’re sure some days he probably doesn’t even think of you, and while that thought stings a little you reason that it’s not out of a lack of fondness. He’s a busy man with an important job. Still, tonight has you worried, has your stomach twisting in knots at the sound of every police siren that zooms by. Perhaps it’s because there’s been quite a few.

The judge show you’ve been watching in an attempt to avoid looking at your phone or email cuts out suddenly to a special news report. There’s a hostage situation happening just a few miles away, a man threatening some dozen people if his demands aren’t met. Possible magic artifact on the scene, two officers already injured.

With every word from the newscaster, ever extra bit of information, you feel your anxiety grow. Is this what Kandomere is dealing with right now? Is he safe? Is he one of the officers injured? Or would they have said agent? Did it matter? Is he okay?

You’re torn for a moment between changing the channel and continuing to watch but decide leaving it on will only add more fuel to the fire that is your racing mind. It’s not as if you could do anything about it right? You’d only be in the way, likely wouldn’t even be able to get near what was happening. And anyway, Kandomere was trained for these kinds of things, he knew what he was doing. He’d be fine…

You change the channel back and forth a few more times before leaving it on the news once more. You feel nauseous either way.

The volume is most of the way down because you can feel a headache coming on, likely stress induced, a growing pain at the front of your skull. You’re wearing his shirt again, fingers of worrying at the hem while you try to sit still and calm yourself down. At some point you fetched your phone and now it sits in your lap, seemingly defiant in its refusal to give you news of the man you’re coming to love so dearly.

It’s cool in your hands when you pick it up but warms slightly with every up and down pass as you fidget, try to decide what to do. Is there even anything to do?

Please be safe you finally type out with shaking hands.

…

Nothing in five minutes. You change the channel in favor of cooking shows. Ten minutes, you curl up on the couch. Thirty and you can’t count how many times you’ve looked at your phone. In an hour you’re fitfully dozing, jolting up at the slightest sound, the smallest of phantom sensation against your palm. Your heart is pounding unpleasantly, pulse an uncomfortable thrum, but you feel exhausted all the same. You’ve been worried about him before but for some reason this feels different, worse. You think you might cry but instead you tow the line, fists wrinkling the blue fabric where you clutch at it, bring the collar up to breathe in the soothing scent of him. It helps a little but you still feel a pang.

The soft vibration wakes you around 1:30 and you drop your phone in your disoriented surprise. It takes a second to fish it out from underneath your coffee table but once you do you feel your body slowly start to wind down from the fear you’d been feeling.

I am is the simple reply on the screen, an answer to your earlier plea. It’s amazing how much easier it is to breath with that piece of mind and you slump back into the couch, tension draining from your body. You’re so tired.

Your phone buzzes again and you check the message, the first smile you’ve had in hours making its way onto your face.

May I stay with you tonight? I’m closer to your home than mine.

As much as you’d like to fall right asleep you’re sure you can stay up a bit longer to let him in. Of course, you shoot back, and decide to start a pot of tea to keep yourself up, it’s ready by the time you hear a knock at your door.

He looks exhausted when you finally see him, bags under his eyes more pronounced, hair slightly disheveled, suit wrinkled. You notice the slight pinch in his brow and think he’s probably making the same assessment of you, a certified hot mess after an entire day of worrying. You can’t help the look on your face, smile tired and worried but still there and full of adoration.

“Hey,” you say, taking his face in your hands gently.

“Darling,” he sighs, lips pressing against yours.

You offer him tea but he declines, asking after your shower instead. You listen to the sound of running water and the chug of your washing machine from the couch. He gets out just after you toss the laundry, you can’t wash his suits but his underwear are cotton at least, into the dryer. You set it to time dry and follow him into your room.

“Candy?” you ask, surprised at the sight of Kandomere perched at the edge of your bed unwrapping a chocolate bar.

“It’s been a long day,” he shrugs and motions to the pillow on your prefered side of the bed. “For you too, it seems.” You certainly hadn’t expected to be brought your favorite candy tonight but there it was.

You pick it up and get into bed, turning to thank him when you see the large bruise starting to darken on his back. It makes your heart ache, seeing him hurt, remembering that despite his strength and resilience he’s still mortal, still breakable. You put the candy on your bedside table and scoot up behind him, careful of the bruise when you wrap gentle arms around him.

“Thanks hon,” you say softly. “I think I’ve got all the Kandy I could ever want right here though.”

You can’t see his face but you’re sure he’s smiling, breath coming out in an amused little huff. He takes one of your hands in his and kisses it, thumb stroking your skin gently. It’s a nice moment, quiet and calm after a day of anxiety. You pull back first, slipping under the covers, and he follows suit, pulling you close.

You curl into his chest, forehead pressed near his heart so that you can feel its steady beat. He’s here, alive and breathing and safe, real under your fingertips. His hands slide slowly up and down your back, gentle and soothing, lulling you to sleep.

“Night, Kandomere,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his chest before you drift away.

“Good night, mi amor,” is his whispered answer.

The second love language story~ Still not a drabble but whatever. Proof reading happened at 1am so forgive me for mistakes. I’ll probs come back to edit soon. Tags for @starscreamerrr @theawfuledges @kandomereappreciationblog @kandomerx @kandomeresbitch @anise495 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my future works =D there should be at least 8 more of these.

#kandomere #kandomere x reader #bright #bright netflix #bright fanfiction #reader insert #love languages #this one was: gift giving #waffle writes

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