#and i ran into 3 of his coworkers in the 30 minutes i took to get lunch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvzhongs · 1 year ago

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i can see you

pairing: childe x lumine (chillumi, kinda y/n though) NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

cw: not proofread, first time writing anything explicit xd, minor sir kink, mentions of exhibition, mentions of power dynamics, no piv they get close though, soft dom childe oooooooh jesus is shaking his head at me rn

He ran his hand through her hair, admiring her for a second longer. “Such a pretty girl with such a pretty body, hm? I want to hear you say it.”

“Ajaaax,” she said, whining in his lap, “that’s so embarassing!”

Lumine was proud of her ability to maintain a stoic façade. The time Kaveh broke the brand new (extremely expensive) office coffee machine within the first 20 minutes of it arriving? She was totally unphased. The respective lectures about ‘office responsibility’ from Al Haitham, shrugging his head in disappointment? Not a flicker of emotion on her face. The time Hu Tao nearly got them both fired for academic misconduct? Chilled.

So, what exactly was it about her boss that made her blush like a schoolgirl and run away?

“He’d be significantly sexier if he was less, you know, boring.” Hu Tao said, arriving back at the cubicle with the cocktails. Lumine grabbed the ‘Sex on the beach’ with a long sigh, knowing her friend would have found the name unbelievably funny.

“Hey, you don’t know if he’s actually boring!” Lumine objected, watching the table of their colleagues out of the corner of her eye. Ajax was sat on the end, silently observing the antics of everyone around him. She noticed he’d taken a solid 3 sips of his Negroni, which was about 30 less than everyone he was sat with. This bar was local, not too far out from where they all lived, and a total dead spot aside from them. They’d finally wrapped up a large trade, and Ajax had taken everyone out for ‘celebration drinks’. Of course, Kaveh had interpreted this as unlimited booze on the company card.

“I think I have a better grasp on him than the girl who blushes and excuses herself after uttering two sentences, no? He asked me if you hated him a while back.” Hu Tao said, pushing her straw around.

Lumine felt a familiar heat rise to her cheeks. “Well, what did you say back?”

“I said he was worried about the wrong person hating him. He laughed and told me to get out.” Hu Tao said, snickering at the memory. Ever since she’d been hired, she’d taken it upon herself to terrorise nearly everyone within their small office. She’d made it very clear that Lumine’s baked goods were the only things that had saved her, and the only reason she even bothered visiting the finance department. [She had not responded well to Lumine’s reminder that she was, quite literally, also a finance employee].

“This is a nightmare. You’re a nightmare. Excuse me while I go to the toilets and throw up.” Lumine said, resting her head on the sticky table. She regretted it almost immediately, opting to wipe her forehead with a spare napkin.

“Thank you. I know.”

Three drinks later and the rest of their coworkers had clearly decided that ‘girl time’ privileges had been revoked. Kaveh, Al Haitham, and Cyno had deigned to come squeeze into the booth, while Ajax and Zhong Li chatted politely at the bar. There was some antics surrounding a card game with an inconclusive winner, leading to childish poking and insults being thrown left and right. It was sweet, having the opportunity to relax after finally closing a deal that had had everyone on double overtime.

“Have you ever considered that it might just be a skill issue on your end, Al Haitham?” Cyno asked across the table, much to everyone elses amusement.

“Dude, no way Cyno just skill issue’d you, what.” Kaveh said, giggling uncontrollably into Haitham’s shoulder. He was more than a little tipsy, like Cyno next to him, contributing to the lively atmosphere of the booth. “That’s so funny.”

“Maybe you should remember who pays your wages, Cyno.” Haitham responded, bemused by the drunk nature of his friends. He took a second to play with Kaveh’s hair, before catching himself and retracting his hand. Their romance was far from an office secret, but they were both typically timid people.

Hu Tao took the moment of weakness to jump on him. “Firstly, I’m totally emailing HR right now. Secondly, you don’t even write the checks. You spend your time running around after Ajax like a lost puppy, begging your master for scraps.”

Lumine came back into focus to the noise of another glass being placed on the table.

“Who’s begging me for scraps?” He said, sliding into the seat next to her. He greeted the table with a polite nod in her direction, before returning his attention to Hu Tao.

“Puppy over there. With the green sweater.” Hu Tao said, meeting eyes with Lumine and snickering. She felt far too hot, and she was sure her cheeks were already blazing. She fiddled anxiously with the end of her skirt, suddenly self conscious of her outfit and her hair and her everything.

“Ah, you’re a puppy now, Haitham? I would have thought you were a cat.” Ajax said, casting a look at the three drunk men in the corner. He grinned at the sight, enjoying watching his friends relaxing after one of the most stressful weeks in the history of the company.

“Eat shit.” Haitham said over the edge of his glass, looking directly at his best friend. The entire table burst out laughing, and Lumine felt her anxious energy dissipating. She quickly excused herself, sliding out of the bench over Ajax and making eye contact with Hu Tao.

The toilets were a long journey in this pub, with the trek taking her up two sets of stairs and halfway across the third floor. In her ever-so-slightly tipsy state, it took her an embarrassingly long time to make it there. She stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing down her hair and adjusting the pleats of her skirt. She’d found it online, and it was a baby blue with white lace frills. Accompanied with the white crop top she’d found hidden in her wardrobe, she had decided to fully commit to the ‘babydoll’ aesthetic, with some blue slide in clips and her hair down for the first time in months. She looked totally different from her usual work attire, since Hu Tao had decided tonight would be the day that she ‘got some’.

“You’ve been stressed for a month. Please. If not for your sake, then for mine, because you stopped being funny about a week and a half ago and I am dying here.”

“Okay, dude, calm down. I could totally get some if I wanted. I’m just not interested in anyone, and the casual thing is way too hard for me.”

“My bad, I forgot you’re only interested in your smooth-talking finance bro boss. You know he’s ginger, right?”

When she’d finally regained her confidence, she pushed the door open, only to be met with a broad back and ginger hair. Ajax was standing across from the entrance, absent-mindedly tapping on his phone. He immediately looked up, shooting her a smile.

“I came to check on you. You were gone for a while, and everyone else is honestly far too loud for my head after this week.” He said earnestly, immediately slipping his phone into his pocket to give her his full attention.

She smiled back at him. It wasn’t the first time that they’d been alone together, but never in this kind of context. She noticed his eyes flickering up and down, taking in her outfit for the first time. His reaction gave nothing away, and she felt like he was staring at her like she was a piece of meat (in a respectful way, which she didn’t know whether to be extra disappointed by). “Yeah, it was a rough one for us all. I’m not the heaviest drinker, so I get it. They’re super annoying.”

He laughed loudly at her comment. “Way to word it nicely, God. I didn’t realise you had it in you to be funny.”

“Excuse me?”

“Every time anyone approaches you at work, you stare them down like you despise the very air they’re breathing. I thought you just straight up hated me for the longest time.”

You can’t just say to your boss of 4 months ‘I’m so sorry I ignore you, it’s because I can’t be in the same room as you without wanting to jump your bones’. The alcohol, however, relaxed her enough to give an answer that came across fun, rather than shy.

“Oh my god, no, I could never. I’m just a little serious, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

“That’s a huge relief to hear. You’re a total asset to the company, I think I’d have a heart attack if I made you resign.”

“Thank you, Sir, that’s a really kind notion.” He tensed up at her words, sending a nervous twinge down her spine.. He was walking just ahead of her, giving her a view of his huge back. He worked out, she could tell, and the fact that he took care of himself just made her want him even more.

“Jesus, okay, drop the Sir. I’m only 27, you’re going to make me feel old. Do you want me to give you a lift home? I feel like everyone else is going to want to end up at a club after this.”

“That would be really nice, S-“ She started, only to be met with a disapproving glare. Sheepishly, she ended her sentence before she could dig herself a bigger hole.

“See? You’re a smart girl.”

Well, fuck. If she wasn’t calling him Sir before, she definitely wanted to now. She felt like she would melt into a puddle on the ground, especially with his hand on her lower back. God, he was beautiful. His eyes were sunken with the amount of sleep he must forgo to ensure that their company succeeds, but they still twinkled with a boyish charm that made her heart skip a beat.

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” Hu Tao shouted at her when they were back in view of the table. Lumine rewarded her with a little spin, showing her the entire outfit. She took her seat on Tao’s lap, enjoying the flirtatious vibe that had clearly taken over the table in her absence. As she sat, she noticed Ajax was unable to make eye contact with her, shifting around in his seat.

“What’d you do to the poor man?” Tao whispered in her ear, staring suspiciously.

“Shut up. Nothing. I swear.”

Half an hour later, she was bidding her goodbyes to her friends as they hobbled towards the next club.

“Dude, Kaveh’s so not going to get in.” Lumine said, watching him hobble along the cobblestone.

He attempted to turn around at the mention of his name. “What do you mean, I am like sooo sober.”

Hu Tao smiled, grabbing Lumine’s hand. “I just won’t let him speak, don’t worry. I’ll text you when we’re all home safe, so take it easy tonight.”

“I love you.” She replied, hugging her closely.

“I love you too. Drive safely, okay?”

Ajax’s car was quiet, and sleek, which suited him perfectly. She sat there for a while, enjoying the purring of the engine, and how his muscles rippled whenever he moved to shift gear. It was hard not to stare, especially when his hair was ever so slightly falling in front of his face, and he relaxed back into his leather seat. The alcohol buzzed through her system, and she felt like she was floating just from being in his proximity. The drive wasn’t long, and she was home before she knew it. He stepped out first, walking around to open the door for her.

“I really like how you had your hair tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it down, but it looks great. You should wear it like that more often.” He said, diffusing the uncomfortable silence. He helped her step out, holding her hand to help steady her upon her return to the ground.

“Oh, thank you! You look great as well, but I suppose that’s not particularly out of the ordinary.” She said, absent-mindedly climbing out of the car.. It took her a second to realise exactly what she’d said, before she started blushing profusely and trying to stammer out an apology.

“You’re just so fucking cute, Lumine.” He said, staring directly at her. She had no response, staring at him with wide eyes. “So pretty, and you drive me crazy. I see you in the hallwau and have to force myself to stay in my seat.”

“Do you want to come in?” She breathed out.

“Only if you’re sober enough to promise me that you want this.”

“I’ve been wanting this since that day the AC broke. You wore a blue button up and rolled the sleeves, and I think I nearly died..” Lumine said, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of confidence. She hurriedly shoved her key into the lock, opening up her apartment.

As soon as they were both in, he pounced, pushing her back up against the door with his hands on her waist. He crashed his lips onto her, holding her still as he brutalised her lips. The kiss was like waves crashing against the shore, with his hands roaming everywhere they could. He took his time exploring her body, running his hands across her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. He pulled away for a second, admiring her swollen lips and her heavy eyes. Fucking pretty, she heard him whisper, before diving back in. This time, he went for her neck, leaving her covered in kisses and gentle nips. Every time he kissed her, she let out a tiny sigh.

“My bedroom is that way.” She breathed out, finding the strength to lift herself off the door. She grabbed his hand and he took it eagerly, following her earnestly. He almost laughed upon entry, seeing how it subverted his expectations almost entirely. For such a professional, composed girl, he hadn’t expected to see fluffy plushies covering every surface and posters of all of the latest idol groups.It suited her, he thought. The version of Lumine he’d met tonight, was definitely the kind of girl who loved all the sweeter things in life.

“The skirt can stay. The shirt needs to go, okay, Princess?” He said, tugging at the end of it. She flushed at his words, and even more at the nickname. “Gonna show you exactly how a pretty little thing like you deserves to be treated.”

She grabbed at the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one quick move. She took a mental note to thank herself for remembering to wear the cutest piece of lingerie she could find, which was a lacy blue bralet. He groaned out loud when he saw it, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric, and felt himself start straining against his pants. With courage, she straddled him at the edge of her bed.

“You’re going to kill me. This,” he said, running his finger under the baby blue strap,” is how I die.”

“Oh, so you like it?” She said, giggling into his shoulder as he continued to play with the straps. “Bought it just for you. Remembered you said that blue was your favourite when I bought in those cupcakes. Saw it and had to.”

He groaned again at her words. His voice dropped a little, and he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from her. “You gonna let me take it off, princess? Want me to touch your pretty tits until you beg me to stop?”

She let out a loud whine at his words. Immediately, she moved her hand to cover her mouth. Embarrassment swept through her entire body. Ajax noticed her movements, and starting cooing almost immediately. He tenderly grabbed her hand away from her mouth, taking advantage of her shocked state to hold them in place behind her back. She bit back a moan when she realised he was able to hold her in place with just one arm. His other hand worked on her bra, swiftly unhooking it and helping her shrug it off her shoulders.

Lumine shivered with the sudden exposure. She shivered even harder when he immediately lent forward, taking the left one into his mouth. He took his time, swirling it until it was hard in his mouth. He then moved onto the next one, repeating the process until she was squirming in his grip.

He ran his hand through her hair, admiring her for a second longer. “Such a pretty girl with such a pretty body, hm? I want to hear you say it.”

“Ajaaax,” she said, whining in his lap, “that’s so embarassing!”

“Saying my name like that is just criminal. Tell me how pretty you are and I’ll make you feel so good. You look like an angel right now, I want to hear you say it.”

She hid her face in his shoulder once more. “M pretty.”

“Oh? I couldn’t quite hear that. Who’s pretty?” He said, using his free hand to grab her chin and force her to look him in the eyes.

“Me! I’m your pretty girl. Will you stop now?” She said, pouting as soon as she was done. He took the opportunity to kiss her once more, watching her melt under his touch.

“Hm, maybe. Will you be good? Lay back and let me show you exactly how pretty you are?”

“If you keep talking to me like that, I’d let you do anything.”

“Oh? I should have guessed. You get so red and squirmy in our performance meetings, did you know that? Was it me telling you how exemplary you are, or was it you daydreaming about me pulling you onto my lap?”

“I don’t think you’d believe half the things I’ve seen inside my head.” She replied truthfully, staring into his pretty blue eyes.

“What would you do if I touched you like this in the office, hm? I could show everyone what a good girl you are for me. Bet you’d even call me Sir while you cum on my fingers if I asked you to.”

Lumine lost the ability to speak as he continued to rile her up. Eventually, he let go of her arms, moving to toy with the end of her skirt instead. After a quick nod of affirmation, he dipped his fingers underneath her skirt. She moaned and whimpered as he ran his fingers up and down her thighs, being deliberately obtuse about where she actually wanted him. Every movement sent electric straight to her core, leaving her a whining mess under his touch.

“I haven’t even touched you there yet. You can keep yourself together a little longer, surely? Or am I going to discover that you’ve soaked straight through them?” He whispered, as if he was keeping a big secret between the two of them. He lifted her off his lap, manoeuvring her to lay down on the bed. Once she was settled and comfortable, he crawled back on top of her.

And Finally! He pushed her matching panties to the side, and had a good look at her. Her thighs were at risk of becoming sticky with arousal, and she was gleaming even under the dim light. He ran his finger up and down her slit, watching as she whimpered and convulsed around him.

“Oh, you’re soaked, Princess. Did you want this as badly as I did. Want me to make you cum until you cry?” He said, grinning as he brought his finger up to his mouth. He sucked it clean, savouring every drop of her, before kissing her once more. She could taste them both together, and it was shockingly attractive to her.

“We taste good.” She said sheepishly as he pulled away. He just grinned, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration.

He moved his hand back down to her, keeping the other one next to her head. He kept his eye on her face, watching her expression as he touched her clit for the first time. When she gasped in shock, he knew he was on the right path. With just a few tiny circles, she was whining and pleading for him, letting out tiny whines of his name. They shot straight down to his semi, and he tried to dismiss all of them. Not right now, he was pleading internally, right now is about her. .He started a more consistent rhythm with his fingers, monitoring what she was responding best to and whispering praise in her ear.

“Look at how much you want me, Lumine. Spent all that time avoiding me, could have spent all that time with my fingers buried in this pretty cunt.” To punctuate his words, he slipped one finger inside her. She moaned, the loudest she’d moaned the entire evening. “Knew you’d like that, you’re so fucking tight around me.”

He started to pump his hand slowly, taking his time to adjust her to his first finger. She was already starting to thrash around under him, so he moved his spare hand to pin her arm down. He silenced her protesting with another passionate kiss, using it as a perfect distraction to slip a second finger in. Her whine of satisfaction spurred him on, encouraging to feel around for the spot that would make her feel Cloud 9. His exploration was cut short, however, when he felt a tiny little string inside her.

“What is that?”He asked, genuinely curious about what he was feeling.

“Oh, it’s my IU-“ She said, struggling to form a coherent sentence as he pistoned his fingers inside of her. “Means you can fill me up and nothing bad will happen.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Want me to fuck you until you’re nice and full of me, hm? Pump you full of my cum while I make you cream on my cock? Didn’t realise my princess was such a little pervert.” Lumine pretended not to notice how wide his grin got as he talked about it.

Her eyes widened suddenly, as Ajax finally reached the spot he’d been waiting for. She came almost instantly, clenching around his fingers as she shook in his grasp. He kept moving, hoping to help her ride it through. She looked truly ethereal like this, his pretty girl giving him exactly what he wanted from her. He waited a while before bringing her out of her dazed state, grounding her while stroking her hair.

“So pretty, so good for me. You coming back yet?” He asked, never once taking his eyes off her face.

“It’s your turn.” She said, pouting as he moved her hand away from his trousers.

“Another time. Get some sleep, okay?” He said, moving away from her quickly.

And just like that, she was out like a light.

She awoke in the morning to being tucked in the bedsheets, and the smell of fresh pancakes wafting through her open door. It took a few seconds for her to manage to open her eyes, and when the grogginess of sleep finally lifted she nearly jumped out of her skin. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

She grabbed some pyjamas from the nearby dresser, throwing on a large tshirt and a pair of biking shorts. She took a second to smooth down her hair and noticed that her makeup had been taken off during the night. Did he take it off for her? Just how hard had she slept? As she turned around in the mirror, she finally took notice of the big red bruise blooming on her collarbone.

Lumine walked into the kitchenette, taking in the view. Ajax was shirtless, bending over the countertop while he scrolled on his phone. His large back dwarfed her tiny kitchen, and it was almost comical watching him amongst her small bowls and glasses. In front of him was a plate of freshly prepared pancakes, and a few toppings he’d managed to scrape from her empty fridge.

She leaned on the wall, trying to give her best unbothered pose. “Hi.”

“Sleeping Beauty has finally joined us! I was wondering when you’d wake up, you were out like a light last night.” He said, turning around immediately to shoot her a genuine smile. “I made breakfast. You want to eat, or just need a drink first?”

“Let’s eat.” She said, taking a plate from the counter and moving it onto the table. She took her seat and he took the other, and they sat in another comfortable silence for what felt like years. “You know, this is the first time a guy’s ever made me breakfast after the fact.”

“Trying to win your heart, obviously. Then you’re tied to the company for life.” He grinned into the pancake he was eating. She sighed dramatically, refusing to answer his teasing.

“I’m telling HR.”

#genshin smut #childe smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #chilumi

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chilope · 2 years ago

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I posted 4,979 times in 2022

That's 2,463 more posts than 2021!

555 posts created (11%)

4,424 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@triviallytrue

@sapphicdisclosures

@dingdongyouarewrong

@heat--end

@existentialvibeology

I tagged 1,400 of my posts in 2022

#yeah - 24 posts

#me - 22 posts

#neyenz - 13 posts

#:( - 11 posts

#:) - 10 posts

#sigh - 9 posts

#literally - 7 posts

#lol. lmao. - 6 posts

#god - 6 posts

#hmm - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#'no i can kiss girls because im so comfortable with my heterosexuality! thats why i joke about being in love with women! im just so straight

My Top Posts in 2022:

when i first started following yorick i thought "its a little uncomfortable to insist that a man who identifies as straight is actually gay just because hes on tumblr" but i get it now

42 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

yo whats yudkowskys deal tho

86 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

she e on my e til i cummings

109 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

a series of events

my experiment relies on the use of liquid nitrogen

we ran out of liquid nitrogen last week

we were supposed to get more delivered this morning

one of the delivery trucks left with all of the specialized tank dollies and would not be able to return until the end of the day

our delivery gets delayed until tomorrow

in order to not waste an entire day we decide to borrow some from an affiliated lab

on the way there it starts raining

we aquire the liquid nitrogen, stored in our small transport dewar

transport dewar is not pressurized, meaning the nitrogen gases off as it sits

nitrogen has no smell and is lethal if too much is inhaled so we store it in the trunk

we make it 95% of the way back to the lab before taking a turn a little too hard, causing the dewar to tip over and begin draining hard enough that we can hear it in the cabin

beloved coworker pulls over immediately so i can jump out and put it upright before we lose all of it or the trunk of her car freezes

she happened to have accidentally pulled into the entrance to the fire station

i jump out at max speed to minimize chances of getting hit by a fire truck

we are parked inside of a 2 inch deep puddle

i am wearing toms

i open the trunk

it is filled with nitrogen gas and extremely cold

the dewar fell onto the handle, meaning i had to grab the tank in order to right it

it is so cold i burn myself

we make it back to the lab without further incident

my shoes are soaking wet, but my boss always has 18 pairs of rubber sandals in his office so i figure ill just put on his sandals and put my shoes in the oven to dry

he took all of his sandals home on friday for some fucking reason

fuck it, ill just go barefoot and sit in the break room

put my shoes in the oven

wait 30 minutes

retrieve shoes

they are still soaking wet and now the oven smells like feet

154 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

she was a boy, he was a girl, can i make it any more obvious?

214 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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the-peculiar-bi-tch · 8 months ago

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i had my own experience with it last night, also this is a bit lengthy so it's under the cut:

i went back to the restaurant where i worked by first job as a dishwasher because it was burger week and i wanted some good food (still the best burgers and fries i've ever had), and driving there i started breathing strange, like uneven and heavy. walking to the restaurant and parking had me scarily anxious. eating there i was never entirely comfy like i am at a fast food joint or a waffle house.

i was thinking through it at the bar (just chowing down and drinking water) and i finally realized why i was having these reactions. the two and a half years i worked there were some of the worst of my life - maybe the worst. i remembered the hundreds of times i walked towards the back of the restaurant and into the basement prep kitchen. i remembered the constant noise from the line. i remembered that damn loud dish washing machine i worked with almost every night. moreover, i remembered it during COVID.

at the start, we closed down, and i got stimulus checks and partial unmeployment. going back was difficult but i did want it. dishwashing is a hard, physical job, where you're carrying heavy loads every few minutes on a busy night. you're balancing dishes coming in from front of house (i also grabbed the dishes from upstairs on my own just because i was tired of getting surprised by them), prep kitchen dishes, line cookware like saute pans, and making time for glasses, ramekins, and silverware.

imagine doing all that with a mask and weakass lungs.

that wasn't even the worst of it. i kept getting scheduled for doubles on saturdays at one of the busiest restaurants in the town (maybe even county if we're going by ratio). showed up at like 9 am, worked until 3 pm, got a two hour break (because as awful as work was, the coworkers and chef were fan-fucking-tastic), and worked from 5 pm to close. i had 1:30 am nights there. friday and saturday nights usually involved two dishwashers because of the workload. however, this was SAT prep season, so the person they kept scheduling to help me on saturday nights during the first few months of covid kept not showing up. because he was prepping for his SAT! so i'm working sometimes 12 hours on the busiest day of the week with no backup in a mask! that went on for several months!

kitchens are notorious for having substance use problems, and this was no exception. almost everyone working back of house chain smoked and chain drank. i told myself early on i wasn't going to pick up smoking, but those months were the hardest to keep myself away from. imagine every damn workday having to fight the very loud 30% of your brain screaming for a Red just in case it helps. the toll that took on me was intense. it was easily the worst mental health i'd ever had.

still ain't touched a Red.

it hurts because i have a lot of good memories from there too. i trained a few dishwashers while i was there and there were several who worked as hard as i did and i grew to like. a couple came up with way better ways of doing the work than what i was doing (like instead of emptying the sink, putting the ramekins face up on the bottom, and blasting each one lightly enough that we don't get drenched with mustard water, and then running them through the machine, one of the guys i trained just ran em through twice with the silverware and it worked really really well). i once forgot to bring my knife with me to work and i needed to cut tape for labels, and when i said "ah crap i forgot my pocket knife," the chef (who was in the prep kitchen with me) gave me his and refused to let me give it back. i still have that damn pocket knife. there was a bartender there i called ma and who i trusted coming out to, and i met her again at a brewery in a university city years after we'd each left. they had the best damn steak and cheese sandwiches with provolone and grilled peppers and onions.

but i don't think i can go back anymore, just because of what it did to me.

Folks have got to understand that they probably aren't messed up by some Secret Big Trauma that they just can't remember; but rather by a million tiny microtraumas that they do mostly remember but don't even register as traumatic because nobody actually understood that these things would cause trauma, much less stack on each other over the years.

#long post #reblog

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radiant-reid · 3 years ago

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Sweater

Y/n knocked on Spencer's hotel room door to go make sure he was up. Hotch had told them to use the valuable 7 hours they could spare to sleep. They had been working on the case for 3 days straight, and they all needed sleep.

Thankfully, they'd wrapped it up, but there wasn't much point in flying back to DC so they could get there in the morning. That way, they would only be able to sleep on the jet.

So, when they apprehended the unsub just before midnight, Hotch told them they could have until 7:30 to be in the lobby.

Spencer looked through the peephole to see his coworker. He swung the door open and welcomed her in.

"I've just got to put my shoes on," Spencer told her, anticipating she was going to be asking why they weren't leaving. Y/n did make sure to come to his room a few minutes earlier. She had her bag thrown over her shoulder as she looked around his neat room. His own bag was sitting packed up near the door.

Y/n took a seat next to him, at the foot of the bed. "I forgot how cold it was here." She mentioned, tapping her leg up and down. Montana was freezing in October.

Spencer looked over at her, furrowing his eyebrows. "Where's your... oh." He recalled Y/n's winter coat, covered in the victim's blood. It was only then he noticed she was only in a blouse and jeans. She can't have been warm. Y/n let out an awkward laugh.

"Yeah, the coat's gone." She told him. To start with, she thought she'd be able to get the blood out, but the white coat made it difficult for the stain to come out. The idea of wearing a previously blood-soaked coat also grossed Y/n out.

Spencer had on a cardigan, shirt and pants, his usual attire. It was definitely much warmer than what she had on. "You don't have anything else warm?" He asked her.

Y/n just shook her head. "Should have brought more warm clothes." She figured, shrugging her shoulders. Spencer could see the goosebumps on her arms, and he noticed her slight shivering.

"You don't want to get a cold or worse, the flu." Spencer insisted, getting up and hurrying over to his bag. "The CDC rank influenza and pneumonia-related deaths at 9th." He continued to search through his bag. "Adults get an average of 2 to 4 colds a year."

Y/n just giggled at the genius. His facts were a compulsion she found adorable. "What are you doing?" She asked.

Spencer finally found what he was looking for, spinning around with a boyish grin. "Here." He held out the cream colour hoodie to her.

"Spence, I can't take your hoodie," Y/n responded, picking it up out of her lap. It felt velvety between her fingers.

Spencer shook his head. "You'll freeze without it. It's only 11 degrees out there." He informed her. "Please." He begged. "Put it on for me at least." He said as a last resort.

"Fine." Y/n hesitantly agreed, slipping the jumper on over her head. It smelt exactly like him. The perfect mix of leather, vanilla, new books and oak. It fit her around the torso, but Spencer was so tall it hung below her hips. She pulled the hood over her head and drew the drawstrings.

Spencer chuckled as she smiled up at him. The hoodie was so large it looked like it was draped over her frame. "You're silly." He declared.

"Hey, that's not nice." Y/n twisted her lips into the best faux pout. That just caused him to laugh more. "Get your stuff, dummy." She said as she picked up her bag and walked out of the room.

Spencer zipped up his bag again, tripping as he ran after her. He only caught up to her in the elevator. "I'll have you know, I'm actually an extremely gifted genius."

Y/n giggled at him, punching the 'G' button on the elevator so he wouldn't have to. "Oh, I know, Doctor Reid." Y/n quipped, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

Spencer didn't know what else to say, having never been good with conversation. So, he just hummed and waited until the elevator doors opened.

"Now, Miss Thing, what did you get up to last night?" Morgan questioned, strutting over to them, coffee in hand. Even for it being 7 in the morning, he walked with a swagger.

Y/n knew what he meant. When she looked at Spencer, she knew he didn't. "Did you get me a coffee?" She asked, ignoring the remark about the implications of Y/n in Spencer's hoodie.

"Demanding," Morgan commented with a chuckle. He then turned to Spencer. "Is she like that in bed too?"

Spencer blushed bright pink. "I, uh, won't h-have any idea." He stammered out before clearing his throat like he always did when he was nervous.

"Alright, keep your secrets to yourself." Morgan declared, holding his hands up in defence. He sauntered away to leave Y/n and Spencer looking shocked, not making eye contact.

"Do you want a coffee?" Y/n asked, seeing the hotel breakfast buffet Morgan got it from.

Spencer turned to her, finally looking into her eyes. "Uh, yeah, I'll come with." He agreed, walking off with her.

After they'd downed some coffee, they were off to the jet. Both Y/n and Spencer decided not to go in the same car as Prentiss and Morgan, knowing the inevitable teasing it would lead to.

However, apparently, Hotch, Rossi and JJ weren't the better options.

"Nice jumper, Y/l/n," JJ mentioned as Y/n and Spencer slid into the two back seats next to her. "Or should I say Spence?" She asked, eyeing the pair. Spencer went red, and Y/n tried not to.

They decided the best way was to not respond.

When they boarded the jet and sat together, Prentiss raised her eyebrows at the pair. They opted to sit closest to the door, away from the biggest table with 4 seats.

"What's that clever mind thinking about?" Y/n asked. They were only an hour into the flight, and Spencer hadn't already finished his book, a clear sign he was preoccupied.

Spencer looked up at the girl in his hoodie. He couldn't stop the grin spreading on his face. "Uh, nothing." He mumbled.

"I don't like it when you don't tell me your secrets," Y/n responded, pouting at him. Spencer still didn't tell her. "Maybe later?" She asked.

"Hmm, maybe one day." Spencer decided, trying to appease her. The truth was, he had never been one for confessions, so it might never happen.

They talked throughout the flight. Spencer got her a coffee midway into the trip. When they got back to DC, it was around lunchtime. Y/n hadn't realised how starving she was from only having coffee.

"Spencer," Y/n said, gaining his attention in the elevator to the parking building. He was still wearing a tired smile on his face. "How do you feel about getting lunch?" She asked.

"Yeah, that would be great." Spencer quickly squeaked out, his smile spreading wider and making his dimples appear bigger.

"How do you feel about the one near my apartment? I've been craving some Thai curry." She asked, already knowing what she wanted.

The food in the rural Montana town was mostly gas station items. Doritos, jerky and MnM's. As well as all the coffee the precinct had. Each night was fast food. It was definitely not a healthy way to live. Which was why a fresh, seasoned curry sounded like the best option.

"Yes, definitely." Spencer accepted.

Y/n nodded. "Alright, I'll drive if you want. But I do want to swing by my apartment to drop my stuff. We can go by yours too?" She offered.

"That would be good," Spencer confirmed, walking with her to her car.

Y/n drove while Spencer sat in the passenger seat. They chatted all the way back to DC.

The first stop was to Spencer's apartment, so he could get out and leave his stuff. Next, they went to Y/n's.

"I'll just be a second. You can come in if you want?" Y/n offered. Spencer shrugged and got out of the car. He had been in Y/n's apartment a handful of times, but he always liked to look at the things she'd changed.

They walked up the stairs and to the door. Y/n went to her bedroom, leaving her bag there and taking off Spencer's hoodie. She replaced it with a knit sweatshirt of her own.

When she walked back into the living room, Spencer turned around from her desk. He had been looking through the annotations she wrote in a novel.

There was a defined pout on his face. "Where's the hoodie?" He asked.

Y/n could tell from his voice that he wasn't asking because he wanted it back. "Here." She said, pulling it from her bedroom. "I can wash it before I give it back if you like?" She offered.

Spencer shook his head. "No, can't you wear it?" He begged desperately.

Y/n smiled at the cute boy in her living room. "Alright." She said, pulling it over her head. It made her smile at the thought that Spencer wanted to see her in it. "I'll return it to you, I swear." She promised.

Spencer shook his head again. "Looks nicer on you." He quietly mumbled.

"I thought it was your favourite," Y/n told him, brushing a stray hair off his cheek.

"Still." Spencer shrugged. "I like you in it." He hesitantly admitted. That thought made Y/n's heart race. He was so perfect and standing in her living room.

Hesitantly she pulled her hand away from his cheek. "Should we get going then?" She asked. Spencer nodded. Without thinking about it, she slipped her hand down to his to hold it.

Spencer didn't shy away, instead, he gave it a squeeze. Looking like a couple, they went to lunch.

Tag list

@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx

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15-dogs · 4 years ago

Text

hey lover |s.r.|

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer wants to ask you on a date but his fear of rejection causes him to write you a letter. however, he’s made the miniscule and idiotic mistake of forgetting to sign it. (fluff, mutual pining, and miscommunication!!)

warnings: very light swearing, description of murders/crime scenes (criminal minds level gore/description), food mention

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = letter

word count: 3.2K

a/n: asjkdfhkj this is my first spencer fic i hope it turned out ok!!

***

It seemed like a good idea at first. Derek’s ideas always seem good at first. Spencer wasn’t sure why he trusted things would work out without error. Yet there he was, letter in hand and eyes wide at the stupid, miniscule mistake he made while you awaited his answer.

***

You had just begun working at the BAU no more than 3 months ago as the new communications liaison, replacing JJ while she was absent on maternity leave. You were quickly integrated into the carefully woven quilt that was the BAU and, in turn, you had built some very close relationships with your coworkers.

However, there was one person who you had grown extraordinarily fond of: Spencer Reid. You didn’t want to admit how smitten you were with the doctor, seeing as you were only working at the BAU for so long, but it was an indisputable fact you had fallen for him.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer felt the exact same way. Your courageous and selfless demeanor struck him as something he hadn’t seen in anyone in quite some time. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful you were. Spencer knew it was impossible for anyone to be perfect but, when you made him feel the way he did, he began to question his thinking.

Spencer was quite terrible at hiding his feelings, finding himself staring at you a second too long when you walked to your office in the morning or bringing you extra breakfast and coffee because the store just happened to have an extra muffin they wanted to get rid of. It was so obvious yet you couldn’t pick it up for the life of you and Spencer really thought he was flirting to the fullest extent of his ability.

One morning you were running late. You had yet to arrive but you called Hotch to let him know you’d be at the office in no more than 30 minutes because the train was down for the time being. You also had texted Spencer, asking him if he wanted something at the small coffee shop around the corner while you waited. So as Spencer gave you his order with one hand, he downed the coffees he had made for you and himself in the other.

“Whoa, kid,” Morgan chuckled, prying the cup from his hand, “slow down. Your toothpick-body can’t take all that caffeine.”

Spencer swatted at Derek in an attempt to get the cup back only to see him lift it to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan started with mock innocence, “was this for a certain communications liaison that a certain doctor has a crush on?”

Spencer rolled his eyes but felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t have a crush on her.” He made his way back to his desk, ignoring Morgan’s eyes boring into him.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he could practically hear the teasing grin in Morgan’s words, “because she likes you.”

Spencer went rigid. He spun slowly on his heel until he saw Morgan’s smirking face, feeling his stomach drop again. He couldn’t believe he fell for that. Spencer retreated to his desk with Derek chasing after him.

“Kid, kid, listen! I know you like her! I was just-”

“Be quiet!” hissed Spencer, his cheeks now coated in a healthy flush.

However, Morgan wasn’t quiet enough. Emily perked up from her desk, rolling her chair over to join the conversation. “What are we talking about?”

Spencer tensed his hands and shook his head, turning to face his work again when Morgan explained, “How pretty boy’s got it bad for (Y/L/N) and won’t do a damn thing about it.”

“What?!” Spencer whipped around, his jaw slack from panic. Morgan and Emily were cackling to themselves at his shock, not even bothering to silence themselves.

“Reid,” Emily began, clutching her stomach from laughter, “it’s okay, I know you like her-”

“What?!”

Spencer’s increasing panic only furthered the pair to laugh even harder. Was he that easy to read? Did everyone know how he felt towards you? Dread began to set into his stomach at the thought of you knowing. His overthinking mind started to wander, assuming you knew how he felt and had led him on to get free breakfast every morning. He quickly scolded himself for thinking that— he’d been hurt too many times before, making that line of thinking second nature. But you weren’t someone who wanted to see people hurt; you were too kind, too caring to do that to anyone.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Emily asked. “She obviously likes you, too.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up for a second at the thought of you feeling the same but he caught himself. A moment too late, however. Emily and Morgan teased him, batting their lashes and making kissy faces at him, leading to Spencer throwing his head in hands to hide from their stares.

The two were no later interrupted as Hotch called Emily up to his office to go over a report she had put in, leaving Spencer and Morgan alone. Derek nudged Spencer’s leg, Spencer frowning at him as he met his eyes.

“Listen, kid, Prentiss was right. Why don’t you ask her out?”

If what Derek and Emily had said was true, why couldn’t he? He imagined himself walking up to you and asking you on a date, his heart fluttering at the thought. His fantasy soon turned sour as you snorted at his question, shaking your head vigorously and pushing him out of your office.

“I don’t think I could look her in the eyes if she rejects me.” Spencer’s voice was no more than a whisper as he announced his realization.

Morgan laid a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching around Spencer’s desk to hand him a piece of paper and a pen. “Then we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. Women love it when they get love letters, so write her one.” Spencer’s eyes bulged at Morgan’s words. “Love might be a bit strong, I get it, but you get the sentiment, right? Write her a letter about why you like her, ask her out at the end of the letter, and then slip it under her door.”

Spencer nodded slowly before shooing Morgan away, already hunched over the first draft of the letter. He worked it over and over again, feeling like each copy wasn’t good enough for you until he saw his phone buzz. It was a text from you. You were heading up. Spencer panicked, folding his latest draft and slipping it under the door to your office before settling back at his desk.

You waddled in from the elevators, attempting to balance a carry-out tray of coffees and a bag of croissants in one hand and your work bag in the other. Spencer jumped up from his seat, relieving you of the items belonging to him in an instant.

“Thank you so much, Spence. I was seconds away from dropping my breakfast.” You shouldered him gently in place of a grateful gesture. He nodded, ducking his head in hopes you hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Before Spencer could say anything, your phone rang. Sending him an apologetic smile, you managed to slip it out of your pocket and place it on your shoulder, shrugging it up to your ear as you answered. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Spencer watched you walk off towards your office, taking a short sip from the coffee he definitely didn’t need. You stepped in and flicked the lights on with your elbow before tossing your bag onto your desk, freeing a hand to hold your cell phone. You took another step in before stumbling, your shoes caught on a loose paper by your door.

It was go time.

Spencer hurried back to his desk and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, even though it was extremely obvious he was. You set your breakfast on your desk and bent over to pick up the note, skimming it as you spoke. Your head snapped up and you turned to face the window that exposed the bullpen, Spencer ducking his head down and innocently reading the newspaper on his desk. He chanced a look up only to see you frown and hurriedly shut the blinds.

Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He paled and ran his hands over his face before digging the heel of his palms into his temples, massaging them roughly. You looked upset— disgusted. Why did he think you’d ever like him?

Before he could indulge in his own pity party, you stormed out of your office with a large file in hand. You raised it in the air to gather the attention of the team as you announced, “We have a case!”

The team scurried in after you, everyone finding their places in the conference room as you clicked on your presentation. The pictures of two young couples appeared on the screen as you passed the files around.

“Four victims from Atlantic City have been found dead in their homes.” You clicked to the crime scene photos, wincing at the sight. “The husbands’ C.O.D. being a slice through the carotid and the wives’ a shot through the head execution style. The husbands have also had their...hands removed.”

Hotch looked up from the file, brows furrowed. “This all happened in the span of 3 days so we need to be vigilant. He could be planning his next attack right now. Wheels up in 20.”

***

On the plane ride to New Jersey, the team had finished being briefed by Garcia’s intel quicker than usual and were left to ponder their own thoughts. You sat off by yourself at a table in the back of the jet, opening your bag to sneak out the letter left at your office earlier. You scanned the words and frowned again before being hit with a genius idea.

You stood from your seat and settled next to Spencer on the couch. Oddly, he went rigid at your presence, sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact. You shook it off and continued on with your plan.

“Spence, hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.

Spencer’s mouth went dry. He knew what you were going to ask about. What else could you be asking about? “S-sure.”

“You’re the guy who’s good at identifying handwriting, right? Like matching it and stuff?”

His eyes flickered up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on a nod. His mind swarmed with questions but none of them came out. He decided it might be best if he were silent, anyway.

“Great. Then can you help me out with” —you pulled the letter from your bag and handed it to Spencer— “this? I think I might have a secret admirer or something. Whoever it was either wanted to stay anonymous on purpose or forgot to sign their name. Either way, could you help me out?”

And that’s when Spencer started to blame Morgan for his terrible idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault but Spencer couldn’t take the blame for something so embarrassing. There his letter was, his handwriting, his words, his admission, and he forgot to sign his name.

Spencer debated the logistics of admitting to his error; he wouldn’t have you pining over a mystery man, but then again he would be asking you out in real time. The whole point of the letter writing was to not see your face and if he told you he wrote it you could reject him straight to his face. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that. So Spencer, fear consuming him, shoved the letter back in your hands with a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry, (Y/N/N), I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

“Oh,” you muttered, standing up. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.”

And as you returned to your seat on the other end of the plane, a pit formed in your stomach. You were no profiler but you hoped you could have read Spencer better, seeing if he let on any signs the letter was his, that he liked you. But at that moment you had to push it aside. There was work to be done.

***

After a few days in the case, the team had a breakthrough. They had discovered all the women had been drugged and used a bargaining chip to lead the men back to their homes before getting killed. The unsub had been targeting wealthy couples at casinos and the only way the team could catch him is if he was drawn out of hiding. The whole explanation was a long winded way of Hotch telling you you needed to go undercover as Spencer’s wife.

You begged him to let Emily take your place but Hotch assured she would be better as a lone guest to cover your perimeter. Frowning, you explained you didn’t have any undercover experience but Hotch assured you you’d be fine, that the unsub would fall easily for your charade because of your close identification with the victim pool.

So there you were, in your hotel room sitting in a dress you didn’t care for with a wire far too uncomfortable running up the length of your sleeve. Your body thrummed with nerves so, in an attempt to calm down, you reached for the letter and reread it, practically having it memorized by now.

(Y/N),

I don’t normally do these sorts of things but you deserve these sorts of things— nice things. You deserve the best things. You deserve the things that make you happy, that make you smile, that make you laugh. You deserve all of that and more.

I’ve only known you for some time but I can safely say I’ve completely fallen for you. To be entirely honest, I don’t know how everyone here hasn’t as well. You have this gorgeous smile that makes everyone light up around you. Not to mention your laugh; it’s harmonic and encapsulating, like good music you never want to turn off.

I like you. A lot. And I know you’re too good for me but I can’t help but try. I get scared because people might see right through us— through me— and you’ll realize it, too, that you’re too good for me.

But now isn’t the time to worry about the future (even though I may have a tendency to do so). I’m sorry for not being the best at words. And I’m sorry for not being able to say this to your face but I like you, (Y/N), and I want to go on a date with you.

You were sure you had the confidence to spur forward with the night.

You left your room, ready to knock on Spencer’s door when you heard hushed whispers coming from inside. From the sound of it, Spencer was trying to opt out of the night while Hotch was trying to convince him to stay.

“You’re the only one on this team that can play some convincing poker, Reid-”

“That’s not the point!” Spencer huffed. “It’s...it’s (Y/N). People might see right through us— through me— and they’ll realize she’s too good for me. They won’t buy it. Not when she looks like herself and I look like, well, me.”

Something about his words hung around in your head. It was disquieting. His words weren’t true, of course. He was everything you could’ve wanted and the sheer fact he didn’t see himself that way broke your heart. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else. Something hidden in his words triggering a memory in you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Spencer and Hotch walked out of Spencer’s room, giving you curt smiles before leaving towards the undercover van outside.

***

Fortunately, the night went as planned. The unsub was apprehended and you managed to stay cool undercover. Mostly cool. Your head was up in the air for a bit as you tried to recall what exactly Spencer had said that reminded you of something. Spencer had to focus you back in a few times but didn’t think anything of your lack of focus. Or, at least, he didn’t say it.

The jet couldn’t leave until the next morning so the team was stuck overnight at the trashy little motel the bureau had paid for. You tossed and turned in your bed, unease settling in your stomach. You decided it might be best for you to read the letter again, seeing as how it brought you such comfort earlier. But the second you scanned the words, the realization hit you squarely in the face.

Disregarding the late hour and the fact you were in pajamas, you ran out of your room and up to Spencer’s knocking on the door with haste. Spencer also seemed to be awake, answering just as quickly as you knocked.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was gravelly and low, like he had been in and out of sleep. You bit back a grin at the adorable pajamas he wore: plaid flannel bottoms and a t-shirt reading “I LOVE LAS VEGAS!” in bright gold lettering. Spencer tracked your eyes roving over his body before clearing his throat to get your attention again. “What’re you doing up at 3:00-”

“I know you wrote the letter.”

You didn’t mean to blurt it out but you just...did. Spencer coughed awkwardly and avoided your stare, shaking his head.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re…”

“Spence,” you began, taking his hand in yours, “I overheard you and Hotch talking earlier, about how people would see right through us. It’s the same thing in the letter— nearly identical.”

Spencer, positive he was completely red in the face, muttered, “Must’ve been a coincidence.”

“But it wasn’t, because I know you, Spencer.” You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you, Spencer.”

Spencer cocked his head, a smile tugging at his lips like he didn’t want to believe what you said. “You...you like me?”

You took a step towards the doctor, locking your hands around the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Yeah, Spencer, I like you.”

Spencer reached a careful hand up, brushing your hair out of your eyes and running his knuckles down your cheek with an adoring smile before connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and unsure but worth exploring. As you began to deepen it, you heard a door click open from behind you.

“Nice pajamas, you two,” Rossi teased. Spencer glared at him over your shoulder for disrupting what was the most perfect kiss he ever had. Rossi chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “I saw nothing!”

Rossi slipped back into his room, laughing to himself about the interruption. You tucked your head against Spencer’s chest, feeling him place a soft kiss against the top of your head while his arms looped around your back, pulling you impossibly tighter towards him.

“You know,” he began, his chest rumbling against your ear in the most comforting way, “I’m beginning to think I should be writing you more letters.”

“A few more couldn’t hurt.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #cm fanfic #cm oneshot

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth. “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder.  

“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

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calpicowater · 3 years ago

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Week 49.1/52: December 6th - December 12th 2021 | YYC ✈️YVR

Last day in Calgary was kind of insane wtf. Even during my last moments here this place refuses to let me rest. I took melatonin last night and managed to get 7 solid hours of sleep. Woke up tired regardless. Got ready, finished packing up, and checked out of my hotel. Went to work straight away. Morning shift went okay but we got so held up due to two weird students in a row. I finished my shift at 3:30pm and just sat at work chatting with coworkers until 4:40pm lol. Headed off to airport by train + bus again. Had to wait 30 minutes for the bus because I had JUST missed it. My fingers were frozen from waiting but managed to get nice shots of the tower. The bus was wack though, it was literally delayed by 15 minutes (we had to change vehicles midway like WTF CALGS?!?) so I literally ran to the check in and then ran to security and then ran to the gate. Managed to make it right in time for boarding but that triggered me. I have never been so close to missing a flight lol never again... must go back to my old ways of showing up at airport 3 days before boarding lmao. An old man behind me at security was hovering behind me like crazy and even took my bin that I was getting for my jacket like wtf. I literally said "hey?!!??" lmao. God what goes on... it's like one thing goes wrong and then everything goes wrong. I just wanted to go to my damn gate!!! I left for my flight so early yet somehow still rushed.......... this is on my manager for putting me to work a whole shift and try to catch the plane of the same day like HELP. Last time I was catching a plane and running to shift and this time the reverse. Either way, so wack and I am constantly so very stressed while traveling.... can't even enjoy it.

Flight itself was pretty wack too. The plane was packed with people (don't think I saw a single empty seat). HELLO COVID??? I was stuck in the aisle seat beside a dad and his toddler....... a fucking nightmare because the kid kept screaming and the dad had put his jacket ON me,,,,, like???? Plus he kept tapping the seat for like 10 minutes???? Like I understand we don't have a TV for entertainment but damn... lol. Thankfully the flight was quick and I was able to escape pretty quickly. Spent the flight writing these blog posts.

Overall feelings about Calgs...... I think the city is kind of wack lol. The public transit is pretty disgusting minus the CTrain but even the CTrain isn't as reliable as a regular subway system (because it's literally like a fucking car that stops at stop lights lol). The weather is okay but still cold and dry as fuck even though it's much better than Edmonton. Work was okay for the most part, pretty chill and close to where I live. But I really think being able to reunite with my uni besties Jerry (x2) and Tiffany really made my trip. Usually when I hang out with friends we just do one thing but I was doing 8388833 activities and going to like five places per hangout with them and it was GREAT. I had so much fun. I wasn't super close to my team during this time except maybe Matt towards the end but it was still overall an okay time minus the crackheads who come out at NOON and being pulled aside for a crime witness. :-) Time to go home and face reality and a shit ton of rain.... great.... 呵呵.

#365 #52 #calgary trip 2021 #airplane #calgary #that concludes all of the posts for yyc!!!!!!!#everyday in calgary i feel like i am living 10 years in just one day #so much stuff HAPPENS #IDK i have a lot of thoughts but i can't rly think of it #im jetlagged alrdy.....#what an adventure it has been #no matter what happened im still i agreed to go! travelling is very healing for me even though solo travel is rly not for me ever </3 #i felt so lonely on my days alone :(#i need company i rly do !!!!#hope i can come out of this 更加坚强一点吧 #this year is almost over but i still managed to squeeze in 2 (business) trips and i feel lucky hahahha #not sure if i will stay here for long but even if i don't i'm glad i had this chance to travel/do out of town jobs #i like living alone!!!! but travelling alone is so hard for me LOL #i still liked exploring tho!#ok i'm done talking now #btw i took like 850 pics in calgary thats insane OMFJHFSKJFKS

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stormingfrost · 3 years ago

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Counting On The Weather

Rory Meke is a new hire in Burgess Local News as a weather man. Emily Jane Pitchiner thinks it’s silly that humans think that they can predict her storms. When two worlds connect, magic and technology battle in a storm to see if weather is predictable or not.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36509347

Fic under cut

Rory Meke woke up every morning at 1 a.m. He always went to the local coffee shop, Mary’s Coffee and Donuts, and ordered a black coffee and a blueberry muffin. He always took the backroads on the way to work. He was a simple man.

Rory shuffled through satellite and radar data. Looking at the clock, he straightened his tie. 4:10. In ten minutes he was going to make his very first appearance on air.

“Good morning, Burgess! Today it is looking sunny, about 60 degrees.” He pointed somewhere on the green screen. In the screen, he was pointing to the right thing.

“It is currently 5:00 am, and the weather is looking calm today. In the afternoon it will reach about 68 degrees.” He continued on his rehearsed speech, adding in traffic and the rest of the week forecast.

“Good thing the weather is predictable these days!”

It was 10:00 a.m. and Rory Meke stepped out of the camera’s line of sight. He knew that it was on him currently, but it wouldn’t kill to be careful. His coworkers patted on his back as he made his way to the door. Stepping into his car, he took the backroads to his house.

Stepping out of his car, he breathed in the chilly spring air. He was glad that he didn’t get hired in winter, or else the joke about the weather wouldn’t have landed on anyone but the kids. They were so good at predicting winter weather, while everyone else was left scratching their heads in confusion. It was 11:30, and he was finally home. He planned to get to bed early. Waking up at 3:00 a.m. made him very tired.

He felt a raindrop on his nose.

“What?” He didn’t see rain on the radar or satellite data. He poured over it for so long. It couldn’t be raining!

Emily Jane walked up to the weatherman. He couldn’t see her, but he was standing in the rain with a confused face.

“I am not predictable, Rory Meke.” Calling his name drew in ancient magic, and Meke flinched.

Rory ran into his house. He didn’t know what happened back there. It started raining, and then he felt a shiver down his back. He spent 2 minutes outside, and he was soaked. He tore off his tie and pulled off his shoes.

At 4 p.m. he made dinner. It was still raining. Hasn’t stopped once. What happened to clear skies? He tried to let it go. The data could’ve been wrong. It was fine. But something about it bothered him so much.

It was 1 a.m. and Rory wanted hit to the snooze button. He didn’t, and he got up and got ready for work. He drove to work and sipped his coffee. Rory was very tired, and hoped the coffee would kick in soon.

Driving into the parking lot made his jaw drop. Snow? The lot was covered in snow, but it was the only place snow was. How? He had to park on the other side of the road, and grumpily trodded to the door. He finally got on the shoveled pavement, where someone was shoveling.

“Hey, the snowplow company said that they’ll send a plow over to us at 8:00,” They said, and Rory nodded.

He pointed to the green screen.

“Today we have hot weather, about 78 degrees right now.” Rory knew that their building was the only thing that was even slightly cold in town. “And the high for today is 81.”

As he stepped down, his coworkers gossiped.

“People started noticing the snow, what do we say?” A coworker said, running her hands through her hair.

“The kids love the myth of Jack Frost,” another coworker said with a laugh. “Let’s say it was him!” Rory checked his watch. 10:02. His parking pass was going to expire soon, and he had to make his way down to his car.

Mother Nature watched with a smile as Rory Meke ran around his car. She never liked cars anyway. Too noisy and gassy. It was covered in snow. A snicker sounded off behind her.

“Do shut up, Frost.” Jack giggled at that.

“Oh, you love me,” he said. “I didn’t know you were so petty.” Mother Nature glared at him, and he backed up.

“Don’t you have a snow day to give?” Jack nodded.

“Meet you tomorrow?” Jack asked, smirking.

“Where are you off to?” Mother Nature turned to the winter spirit. Jack tilted his head and fidgeted with his staff.

“Oh, Bunny wanted us to help out with Easter this year. He’s starting to prepare for it. But between you and me, I think it’s an excuse for him to judge our painting skills.” Jack laughed. Mother Nature nodded.

“Tell Sanderson I said hello.” Jack paused at a softness in her voice.

“Will do.”

“While yesterday was hot and everyone went down to the pool, today school is canceled because of a freak blizzard! It is 23 degrees right now.” Rory pointed at the green screen. “This week the weather is acting out, it’s almost like it heard my joke from a couple days ago and made it a challenge.” He frowned a little. “But I’m sure in no time that the weather will be back to normal in a few days.”

Everyday the day the weather did something weird, something that was never being caught on his data. Rory almost got fired, but wasn’t when Rory offered his boss the data from the past couple of days. It drastically changed everyday. The weekly forecast was entirely messed up, each day had its own weather. And what was weirdest, something impossible happened near the building. They were getting news about it, even though Rory would’ve preferred to keep quiet about it. He checked his watch. 12:00 p.m. His stomach rumbled.

Getting up from his chair, he made his way to the door. He was planning to make lunch at home, but maybe eating out wouldn’t be so bad. Suddenly, Rory paused. He sniffed the air a couple times. He smelt a kind of… fruity smell. Like he walked in a fruit market on a rainy day.

“Rory Meke!” Thunder shook the building. He jumped and saw a bear run towards him. He screamed and fell over.

The bear disappeared, but so did the floor. He felt dirt and grass beneath his hands. He stood up cautiously.

Rory breathed in fresh garden air. It was full of pollen and fruit and dirt. He heard birds and water and fire. He saw things he could never describe. Animals of all kinds running around him and plants moving with the wind. And in the center of it all, a woman. She was tall, with long curly black hair. She wore a gown that changed colors with the weather. She was beautiful, in the way that hurricanes were. Deadly. Ethereal. Ruthless. Breathtaking. She held herself like She was royalty. But, by god, Rory knew that She was more than that.

She was the Earth. Mother Nature. Rory gasped and fell to his knees.

“Please, Mother Nature. Forgive me. I know now that you aren’t predictable, you are as wild-“

“I like it when men beg, but your flattery is pathetic.” Her voice was deep, a velvety thing like the waves of a tsunami. Fear rose up in Rory.

“Stand up, Rory Meke.” A shiver ran through Rory’s spine. Rory stood, and looked down. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

“You know that you are not the only human I have to deal with,” She said. “There are those far worse than you. However, they aren’t as petty as you. They are more primal, sacrificing everything else for their own gain.” She circled Rory, Her golden eyes following him like a predator about to attack its prey.

“What do you want with me? Shouldn’t you be doing this to them?” She laughed. “They would never listen. No, something far worse will meet those who hurt the ground they walk upon. But you, I know the smallest thing will shake you.”

She gestured to Rory.

“You, with all your ignorance and bluster, are nothing more than a little speck in the universe. But I know humans like you. They live in the moment, depending on others to tell them what to do. Depending on times, numbers, and endless routines. You don’t really live.”

Rory met her eyes, and they stood like that for a moment.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t change the world. I can’t stop playing the game!”

Mother Nature hummed.

“You humans and your limited mindsets. Change is inevitable. Life will pass you by and your Earth will burn.”

Rory woke up on the floor of the room, covered in sweat.

“Hey, Rory, you good?” Rory made an inhuman squeak. The people gathered around him in a circle looked at each other. Rory tried sitting up.

“Does anyone have a snack I can eat? I think my blood sugar went crazy just then,” He said, rubbing his temples and steading himself with his hands. Was that all a crazy dream? How long was he passed out for? It couldn’t been more than a few seconds.

Someone helped him up. Rory looked over at the window. Mother Nature was standing there. He nodded at Her, and he made a mental note to go to an environment protest…or something. His coworker, Amy, handed him some crackers. Rory ate one.

“Thanks.”

He looked back at the window to find She disappeared. Rory took a deep breath.

“Hey, I think I’m going to go home early,” he said.

He stood in his home. Mother Nature was right. He didn’t really live. He had no hobbies outside of his work, he had no photos of loved ones one his walls. Not even a collection of random things. His house looked ready to sell.

Numbly moving through the kitchen, he noted that he was the only one he knew. He was new to his job, so he didn’t have any friends. He had no partner or close friends. He had his parents, but he didn’t talk to them a lot.

He pulled out his phone and searched through non-profits for the environment. Save the sea-turtles. Save the rainforests. No matter what their goal was, Rory knew that The Earth Herself would be watching them. He switched over to the phone app. He had to fix things. Rory called his mom.

Rory Meke woke up every morning just in time for his job. He always biked to the local coffee shop, Mary’s Coffee and Donuts, and ordered a black coffee and a blueberry muffin. He would bike to work. After work, he would visit his parents, riding the city bus to go to their house. Sometimes he would invite his coworkers to his home, which looks a lot more comfortable than it was. Sometimes he would volunteer to teach about the environment and the things they could do to save it to the nearby schools. He was no longer a simple man.

#emily jane pitchiner #rise of the guardians #rotg #goc #guardians of Childhood #my fanfic

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mrsdobrik · 4 years ago

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Not Clickbait - Chapter 30

You can read this as a oneshot about Y/n and David going public 🥰🥰

Y/n was sitting on the couch anxiously fidgeting with a rubber band as David set up the lights and the camera. The day of the reveal video had finally arrived. Fans were starting to get a little too intense trying to figure out anything and everything about David’s new girl and they were speculating about her identity. It had gotten to the point where even leaving the house was tough.

“Are you ready?” David asked as he held her hand in his.

“Not really, but I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready.” Y/n sighed, leaning on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Hey, they’ll love you. Even if they don’t at first, they will as they get to know you better. And even if they didn’t, it’s my life and they will have to learn to deal with it cause I don’t plan on letting you go.”

David turned the camera on and started recording

“Hey guys! Today is going to be a bit of a different video, I am going to introduce you to my new girlfriend.” Y/n’s hand was still in his. He looked at her and gave her a light squeeze.

“Hi! I’m Y/n, I’m the new girlfriend.”

“Okay, that’s it, thank you guys for watching...” Y/n started laughing before David continued “Do you want to tell them how we met?”

Y/n thought about how she was going to phrase the story without giving out any information about where she worked.

“Well, you were with Vardan filming a bit for the vlog and Vardan was running to you and he tripped and fell and his nose started bleeding. I was nearby so I ran to help, I fixed his nose and then we talked for about five minutes before I had to leave.” She said looking at him as she told the story.

“And then a few weeks later I was just hanging with friends and I ran into you at the place where you work and we talked for another five minutes.” He continued “After talking to you for a total of ten minutes I just couldn’t stop thinking about you so I went back there by myself a couple of times and then one day one of your coworkers, who was going to give you a ride, had to leave early and I offered to drive you home.”

“And then I asked you out on a date and for some weird reason you said yes” Y/n recalled with a smile.

“I was so glad you asked me out! Oh my god! I wanted to ask you so badly but I didn’t have the balls to actually do it.”

“I thought you were going to say no…” Y/n giggled.

“But I didn’t and then you took me out on the cutest first date ever. I mean, she took me to chipotle so you can see why I love her.” He beamed suddenly looking into the camera.

“I took you to a library and then I suggested we should get chipotle, it wasn’t just food.” she reminded him.

“Yeah, you even bought me that book of really really short stories that I actually read.” he said and then looked straight at the camera again and continued- and she also got a book called Arabian Nights and she read the first story to me but didn’t tell me how it ended and so I had to ask her on another date, just to hear the ending to the story.”

“Hey! It worked, didn’t it? And I am still reading you stories from that book, just so you have to keep me around.”

“Yeah, now I’m hooked.” he looked lovingly into her eyes.

…

“Okay, I’m done.” David said grabbing Y/n’s hand “It’s ready to post.”

It was a couple of days later and the anticipation for the video was killing them both.

!Okay, here we go.” Y/n sighed biting nervously on her lower lip.

A few minutes later there were already thousands of comments. The reaction was mixed to say the least. There were some people who were really supportive and were excited to get to know Y/n, then there were a lot of shippers (dizas, datalies, darlys, derins, danas and even javids) who were disappointed, angry and just not the nicest, finally, there were also some people who thought Y/n could be taking advantage of David and didn’t trust her at all.

Y/n and David had kind of made a pact not to look at the comments but none of them could keep it for long. Y/n was first to cave, going into David’s bathroom and reading through thousands upon thousands of comments. People on the internet can really make a snap judgement.

Outside, Dave lay on the bed doing the exact same thing. He could feel himself getting heated up at all the nasty comments. Some of them were extremely cruel and they hadn’t even given Y/n a chance. He knew the best thing would be to ignore it completely and just let time prove them wrong but he knew how much all those comments would hurt Y/n and so he wrote a caption that read:

“Today I chose to share with you all a huge part of my personal life. Some of you seem to have forgotten that there are real people behind the camera and that we can read your comments. My girlfriend Y/n is nothing but an amazing, kind, loving, brave and smart woman and I know once you get to know her you’ll love her just as much as I do. “

He posted it with one of their pictures from Napa just as he heard a little sob coming from his bathroom. He opened the door to find Y/n sitting on the edge of the tub, wiping tears from her face as she held her phone in her other hand.

“You read them too, huh?” He said, walking up to her and pulling her in for a hug.

“They hate me!! They don’t even know me yet and they already hate me!!” She muttered trying to calm down her sobs.

“Babe, they don’t know you but when they do they are going to love you, trust me.” He whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s okay, I knew it was going to happen. I just wasn’t expecting it would hit me this hard.” She sighed holding on tight to him. “Even if they never like me, as long as you do I’m happy.”

“Lets order something and watch a movie on the couch!” He said, rubbing up and down her back.

“No, I actually want to cook something, it will help me get my mind off this whole thing… Want to go to target?”

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want!” He replied as he leaned down to kiss her.

…

About twenty minutes later they were roaming the aisles of Target getting supplies for dinner.

“So… what are you making?” David asked right as his phone started ringing.

Mom

“Hey mom! How are you doing?... I’m sorry, it just kind of slipped my mind… Mom, it’s fine… Okay, I’ll ask her… I’m sorry… Yes, I’ll buy the tickets today, I promise… No, we won’t… No… Okay, fine, but let me ask her first… Okay, I’ll talk to you later… Bye!” He hung up

“That was interesting!” Y/n giggled at his expression.

“She wasn’t happy I told the world about you before I told her…” he confessed, looking guilty.

“OMG!! How could you not tell your mom before posting the video!! You need to call her more often!!” She exclaimed, completely embarrassed by his lack of attention to his mom.

“She wants you to come home with me for thanksgiving…”

“Okay… and do you want that?” She asked “There is no pressure to do it just yet, whenever you are ready.”

“I do want that. You’ve met my friends, and you are on my channel now so I think we are ready! Besides the day after Thanksgiving will be 5 whole months from our first date!”

“Then I guess we are going to Chicago for thanksgiving.” She beamed at him.

…

Back at clickbait mansion, Y/n decided to make pasta, and when I say make it I mean from scratch. David sat opposite to her talking and watching her work her magic. Natalie came in carrying her open laptop.

“Hey Nat! Hope you like pasta!” Y/n said.

“Natalie will never say no to food” David chimed in.

“Funny” Nat replied dryly.

“Nat, could you get tickets for Chicago for Thanksgiving? I promised my mom I would buy them today.” David said.

“Sure! Just us two? What hotel should I book?” Natalie asked, happy to know they would be going home for a few days.

“3 tickets, unless some of the guys want to come too. Y/n is coming to meet my parents. And no hotel for us, my mom insisted we stay at the house.”

Natalie’s eyes grew wide…

“Wow! You two have been going fast these past few weeks!” She exclaimed.

“I forgot to tell my mom about us before I posted the video and she was pretty pissed so I’m just doing what she wants for once.”

“I’ll go get the tickets then…” She said before giving Y/n a smile and leaving.

“She is right, these past couple of weeks have been insane. I mean, we…, and then we said the L word and then we told the world and now I am meeting your parents…” Y/n said pensively.

“It’s the internet, it makes everything go faster. Hopefully after this we can chill for a while…”

“And here I was hoping I would get a ring by Christmas…” They both laughed.

“Actually before that there is one more thing we have to look forward to…” David got on one knee and asked “Y/n Y/sn… my one and only love… would you do me the honor of being my date for the Streamys?”

“Yes, yes, a million times yes!” She said very dramatically before pulling him up to kiss him.

#david dobrik #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik imagine

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gerberbabey · 4 years ago

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euphoric | prologue | JJ Maybank (kinda? slowburn)

a/n: that euphoria!reader/outer banks concept i thought of is now just gonna be written into existence cus i might as well indulge myself. This’ll mention things from Euphoria (like characters and events, so possible spoilers if you’re planning to watch Euphoria) but it’s not technically a crossover? cus it stays in the OBX...but yeah.

lemme tell you rn, im a mess, im kinda high, and i suck at writing so if anyone would love to help me out here pls do (like pls i need help) also if anyone actually knows anything about OBX, NC, any of that, damn i could rlly use some help cus idk anything aside from the show

summary: set just a few weeks before the main plot, you literally just ended your sophomore year at East Highland and suddenly you’re moving from California to the Outer Banks.

masterlist | previous | next

warnings: cursing, lack of the pogues (sorry)

prologue - ♫ devil eyes by Hippie Sabotage ♫

It was one thing to be moving out of some town in California, it was another to be moving all the way across the goddamned country to live on an island off the coast of North Carolina. The sudden announcement had caused a variety of things to play out for you. Firstly, in an impulsive act of rebellion (of course after an argument had blown up between you and your parents), you had decided to stay at your friend Lexi’s house for 2 weeks. Aside from comfort you, Lexi didn’t really say anything about it and neither did her family. Her mom was pretty much the advocate for the whole “you do you, just don’t get pregnant or die” mindset when it came to teenagers.

When you realize that no act of rebelliousness or stupid teenage rioting would change your parents’ decision in the least (because it wasn’t really something they could change now that your clear head thought about it), you’d sucked it up and decided to just enjoy the last of your time with your friends.

By the time you’d come to that conclusion, school was gonna be let out in just a mere 3 weeks and (luckily for you) parties were already being thrown on weekdays. As much as you hated a majority of East Highland’s students you didn’t let that deter you from leaving with some good fucking memories.

Saying goodbye to all of your friends was more overwhelming than the actual move itself if you were being completely honest. Getting on the plane and flying off to North Fucking Carolina was more of a numbing experience. It was like you couldn’t really feel anything anymore after having to say goodbye to the friends and the life you had known.

“I think we’ve just used every method of transportation in one day,” you stated as you walked away from the ferry and toward the van that your parents had rented to help with the move.

“You’re trippin’, we didn’t even ride a train,” your older brother, Isaiah, pointed out as he squinted at the van. Barely 30 minutes in the Outer Banks and you were sweating your ass off already. Not that you weren’t used to something like heat, Southern California could be pretty brutal in the summer, but this was a fucking island. The air was damp and musty and the fabric of your clothes felt like it was melting into your skin.

“What are you, the fucking transportation police, Jesus,” you mumbled as you shot him a look before forcing yourself to settle into the van.

The ride to your new house wasn’t anything too terrible considering you decided to just put in your AirPods and close your eyes with the thought that, maybe you’ll fall asleep, and once you woke up this whole thing would be some fucked up dream. Sure your phone vibrated with messages within your group chat but your mind was too boggled from the heat and from the move for you to even think about responding.

____________________________

“Do you guys see those moving trucks too or am I just imagining things?” John B pointed out as the HMS Pogue drove at a leisurely pace through the waters.

“You’re not imagining anything, just a new kook family moving into Figure 8,” Kie piped up from where she was relaxing.

School had let out not only a few days ago when her mom had let her know about the new family that would be moving in just a few houses down from their own. She’d told Kie that she had met the mother a few weeks back and basically relayed any and all information she’d gained about the new family.

“My mom said that they’re like business owners or something? They have three kids and they’re moving here from California,” Kie explained and JJ let out a whistle.

“Big move,” he took a hit of his Juul before forming an ‘o’ with his mouth and exhaling out the smoke.

“Yeah can’t imagine why someone would wanna move from California to here,” Pope raised his eyebrows as their group watched movers bustle back and forth as though they were an army of ants.

“Well why wouldn’t they, it’s the Outer Banks, “Paradise on Earth’,” John B declared and JJ let out a whoop in agreement as the boat sped off toward the marsh.

____________________________

“I know I promised that I wouldn’t complain or whatever but it’s sooooo hot,” your younger sister, Bethanie, whined with a stomp of her foot. You scoffed as you stepped out of the van after her. You watched with a raised brow as men bustled about the new (large) house that you would have to begin calling home. The house was not modest in the least and you couldn’t help but balk a little at the sight.

Sure you weren’t poor or anything but considering the ridiculously high cost of living that came with residing in California, this place was definitely more indulging than your old house.

“We’re on an island in the middle of summer, you moron,” Isaiah was quick to retort as he began taking luggage out of the back off the van. You took your attention off the house before you as you pulled your sunglasses from your eyes and settled them at the top of your head. You glanced between your two siblings and you prepared to watch your older brother lose a battle against your younger sister. Again.

“Mom! Zaya just called me a moron!”

“Bea, oh my god, I was kidding!” the eldest was quick to defend himself as the youngest ran off to their mother.

“No, you weren’t!” her fading voice called out and Isaiah threw his head back in frustration.

“Ok really, what did you expect?” you raised your brows at your brother and tried not to laugh at him as he flipped you off.

“Why is she such a snitch? Seriously, like were you this much of a snitch?”

“I mean I could’ve been, but I know that if I snitch on you, your stupid ass would snitch on me,” you pointed out matter of factly as a man shut the trunk of the van and waved you and your brother off so that him and another man could begin to take your luggage inside.

“Damn you’re right. I thank you for your service,” Isaiah saluted you and you let out a laugh as you settled your cat-eye sunglasses back onto the bridge of your nose. There was a short moment of silence before you sighed heavily.

“I really think I’m gonna hate this place…” you said, and Isaiah hummed in response but made no reply. He didn’t need to point out the defeat or the seriousness in your tone because he felt it just as badly.

“Hey, mom says you guys have to settle into your rooms and change,” Bea came running out of the front door, dressed in an entirely new outfit. You and Isaiah cut your moping short and gave each other looks of disbelief.

“Why?” you questioned and Bea shrugged without care.

“We’re gonna have dinner with Dad’s coworker or something, the Cameron’s, I don’t know.”

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years ago

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30 Doctors, Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories

1. The Guessing Game

“I work as an ICU nurse. A mid-20s female came in with some serious cardiac abnormalities and then went into respiratory distress. Never had any medical history at all. We had to put her on the ventilator, but she was on just enough sedation to keep her lucid. She could nod/shake her head yes and no appropriately to questions.

One night, the patient in the room next to hers died, but the body was still in the room about to be taken to the morgue. The female patient’s door was closed with curtains drawn, so she couldn’t have seen what was going on next door. When I went in to check on her, she had a look of sheer panic on her face, trembling. I asked her a series of questions to see if she was cold/hot/in pain/etc. and she denied all. I asked her if she saw something—she started to aggressively nod her head YES. She wasn’t on any drugs that would make her hallucinate. I went on to get details on what this thing looked like. After playing 20 questions I got this: a man, pale white, left arm missing, heavy, bald, standing still, behind me. This was the man who had just died next door.

I spent the rest of the night consoling her.” – whites42

2. Life After Death

“When I was on an ER rotation during med school we got a call about a 23-year-old woman who was shot in the head, and who was already completely gone, but was reportedly five months pregnant so they were doing CPR until they got her to the hospital to see if the baby was viable. They got her to the ER and did an ultrasound and turned out the baby was full-term so they did a C-section in like under a minute and got the baby out.

I don’t think it’s so incredibly uncommon but it was pretty surreal to see a baby delivered from a dead person with their brain exposed and she was pretty close to the same age I was at the time.” – bluegraypurple

3. The Last Goodbye

“When I was a student, I got called in on a stroke patient. She had coded and they were doing CPR. They worked for 45 minutes, but she died. They cleaned her up, and called on the family to say goodbye, but by that time the family left. She had been both brain dead and without a pulse for more than 45 minutes. Blood had filled her brain, and she was completely grey and started to smell. Suddenly, she sat up, and called for her family. The nurses rushed to get monitors and equipment back on her. They started working on her again, she stabilized, said goodbye to her family, and promptly died a second time.” – simplesimon6262

4. Miracle Man

“When I was in trauma surgery in upstate by, got a notification about a man who was shot 3 times in the head. He comes in, literally one eye hanging out of the socket, blood everywhere, and he’s slumped forward. Apparently, he was shot in the temple, exited out his right eye socket, in the nose exited from the roof of the mouth, and In the cheek one with exit from the side of the head.

At this point, I’m thinking they just brought him in so we can pronounce him in the ER because he looked dead. I go to examine him and tilt his head back, and he says ‘Yoooo be gentle!’ I jump back and scream like a little boy, as did everyone in the room. Literally, the bullets missed his brain in every single shot.” – Noimnotonacid

5. Bleeding

“One of the aides I work with said she was doing postmortem care on a patient who had been on many, many anticoagulants before death. She said when they turned her on her side she started bleeding out of every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. She said her and the nurse went home and had nightmares for a week.” – sparklingbluelight

6. The Haunted Hospital

“My town has two really old hospitals. One no longer functions overnight, and the stories are unsettling. No one cleans the old ER alone because all the lights and call bells go off. On other floors, there’s a kid with his ball, a lady in a white dress, etc. A coworker was cleaning an entire floor utterly solo (the norm) and bounced between rooms because the cleaning solution stays wet for a few minutes. Upon returning to a freshly wiped bed, hand prints were clearly visible.” – Sapphire_Starr

7. Eyeless

“I used to do home care for an elderly lady with learning disabilities and no eyes (they were removed due to a congenital condition). She was lovely but prone to wandering around her flat at night in total silence, which led to several horrifying situations where I left my room at 2 am only to encounter her standing silently in the hallway, turning her eyeless face towards me.” – NovelistResearcher

8. Lonely

“One call that will always haunt me was on an unresponsive female at around three in the morning. We get there and do some pointless CPR along with the fire department… She had been dead for a while; no shock-able rhythm, and clear rigor mortis. The most disturbing part was that the original caller was her 11-year-old daughter, who had just spent three days with her mother’s corpse and called 9-1-1 because she was ‘lonely’. It also didn’t help that the victim was completely naked when we arrived.” – CupofJoe776

9. Clear Waters

“I have quite a few stories, most of them are hilarious and then there are those you never want to think about. What fucked me up the most was when I saw how eyes change at the moment of death. Imagine you are looking at clear water but that clear water changes to foggy in an instant. In my 8 years here I’ve only seen this once, and I’ve personally seen well over 250 dead or dying people.” – ImCuden

10. Night Lights

“I work nights in a long-term care facility as a nurse’s assistant. I have two men under my care and both of them are unable to use their call lights. They have severe dementia and debilitating Parkinson’s disease but still, their lights are looped around their bed rail. One night their light came on and I went to answer it already confused and creeped out. I turned it off and left the room. Before I could get two doors up the light came back on. I went in there and both lights were unplugged from the wall and thrown under their beds. I fished them out, plugged them back in and left.

I’ve seen shadows standing over the dying and felt a tap on my shoulder while doing chest compression’s so I knew that lady had passed.” – beeoakly

11. Holding Hands

“I’ve had a couple of weird calls. One was a major MVA-head on many, many years ago when we played M.E. as well. We had 2 DOA (husband and spouse) that were killed instantly in a head-on collision. They had a 12-year-old daughter that was in between them and they actually took the impact, saving her life.

While en route, we noticed the husband’s arm had come loose so I went back to re-strap it. As I was doing that, the wife’s arm suddenly fell out as well, and her hand fell into her husband’s. My boss was watching in the rearview mirror and helped clear the way as I ran back into the front. It spooked both of us. Apparently, the couple (mid 30’s), had just found out he was cancer free after his last treatment.” – Anonymous

12. Last Meal

“I had an old lady come in by ambulance, near death. She was a DNR (do-not-resuscitate), so we weren’t going to do much for her. She didn’t have any family that we could find. The hospital was full, so we had to keep her in the ER for the night.

Again, she was near death. When you’ve seen enough people die, there’s no mistaking it, and she was almost there. Barely responsive; pale, cool, breaths were really irregular, heart rate was up and down, too. We just turned the lights down and kept an eye on her monitor, basically waiting for her to die.

About an hour later, she’s standing at the door of her room. She’d gotten up and put on all her clothes. We were all like, ‘WTF?’ One of the nurses went to check on her, and she said she was hungry. Not knowing really what to make of things, we got her a chair, a bedside table, and went to the cafeteria and got her a tray of food.

She sat there, ate all her food, talked with the staff a little. After about an hour, she told her nurse that she was tired and wanted to lie back down. We helped her back into bed, and within 30 minutes she was dead.” – Anonymous

13. “Don’t Let me go Back there”

“When my mom worked as an E.R. nurse a guy came in from a car accident and was losing blood. In the midst of resuscitation, the man jolts awake and screams ‘Don’t let me go back there! Please, please, please don’t let me go back!’ A few seconds later they lost him.” – JeremyHowell

14. The Rusty Old Saw

“This woman was clearly struggling mentally. She went into her basement and started sawing at her wrists horizontally with a rusty hacksaw, bleeds a good amount, and then starts walking around the house. She wasn’t dying quick enough, so she sat down in a chair in the middle of the living room, and started going at her wrists again, this time with a pair of scissors.

I was the second person inside the house. It looked like a massacre. We searched the house top to bottom, fully expecting to find multiple dead bodies in there. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. Every single room had a trail of blood in it.

The woman was found on a chair in the living room. Rigor mortis had contorted her body into a really strange, unnatural pose, and her face was haunting. Literally the stuff of nightmares. Her wrists had huge chunks of skin/veins/muscle missing from them. Saying she slit her wrists is inaccurate. She ripped them to pieces.” – anoncop1

15. Visitors

“I work a stroke/telemetry floor on the bought shift. Most of our patients are elderly. Apparently, there are two things that patients see before they pass away. Some will say that two men are walking in their rooms and telling them to get ready to leave. The patient will call and tell us that these men are big and abrasive in their demeanor. They are either terrified or annoyed when they see the two men. The other thing they will see is a little boy who will go into their rooms and try to wake them up. The boy is usually loud and runs around their rooms. The patients will call and ask who’s letting children just run around late night. Several nights or even that same shift we’re coding or cleaning the patient for the funeral home to pick up.” – pokfynder

16. The Handsome Man in Black

“I used to work in a skilled nursing facility, usually assigned to the Alzheimer’s ward. One night I’m in the linen room stocking my cart, and I heard someone shuffle up behind me, then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and there was no one else in the room. The door was still shut too.

Another lady started to complain that a man was coming into her room at night (again, Alzheimer’s so I didn’t think much of it) so to reassure her, I told her I’d check on her throughout the night. She complained of this man for every night for two more weeks when I asked her to describe him to me.

‘He’s real handsome, and wears a black suit. Oh. He’s right behind you now, honey.’

That freaked me the f*ck out. Of course, there was no one behind me. She died the next night in her sleep.” – Anonymous

17. The Blender

“We got a call for a male in his early 30s with ‘heavy groin trauma’ (exact words of the dispatcher). We roll up lights and sirens and the guy is waiting for us on the front step with a towel over his crotch. We barely come to a stop and the guy is already running towards the rig holding this towel. I asked him what was wrong and he moved the towel and this guy’s dick was just barely hanging on. Apparently, he had ‘lady problems’ so he decided to fornicate with the food mixer he had in his kitchen and accidentally turned it on.” – YayShinny

18. The Charred Skin

“Motorcycle driver, accident, third-degree burns, arrived DOA. Had to transfer him from ambulance gurney to ER bed. As we were moving him with a transfer sheet, the liquefied/cooked subcutaneous fat caused the charred skin on his back to separate and his body slipped onto the floor (despite several of us trying to ‘catch’ him).” – Doc-in-a-box

19. Dead Man Moaning

“Worked security through college at a local hospital. The only ‘creepy’ thing I remember is when a dead man moaned. One of my duties was to help wheel patients who had expired down to the in-house morgue. Once we were wheeling an older man from the ER down and halfway down the hallway he let out this low moan. I started to panic, thinking that he was coming back to life but the RN explained to me (newbie) that sometimes the air in the lungs doesn’t come out until sometime later or is delayed for a bit.” – ill_do_it-later

20. Otherworldly Screams

“I have had fellow coworkers swear that strange things have occurred in the ER. Two people that I work with were charting at the nurse’s station when they both heard a scream followed by incoherent words come from one of our open bays. There were three patients in the room and they denied screaming or hearing anything. I have also had fellow coworkers talk about hearing strange voices especially after really bad codes and one person states she felt someone grabbing her shoulder after the doc pronounced a trauma code. These are all respectable people and I do not think they would lie.” – Anonymous

21. Blank Stare

“We got a call to go out to a scene for an elderly woman with chest pains. I arrive at the house, front door is open. We knock, hear the old woman calling out from the back ‘I’m in the back room’ in a very monotone and calm voice. My partner and I go to the back of the house looking for this woman, and that’s when we smelled it. Nothing prepares you for the smell of rotting corpse. I’ve smelled it a dozen times, and it never gets any less disturbing. We radio for police and ALS backup as we move through the house.

We opened the door to the master bedroom, and there is our patient. She is approximately 80, and she is staring at the master bathroom with these cold, dead eyes. She never once looked at us as we approached her and began talking to her. I got to the bedside and got in front of her gaze, and she just looked right through me. I turned around to see what she could possibly be looking at, and there was the source of my smell.

A man, about the same age as my patient, is on the floor with very little left of his head still attached to his body. A shotgun lay on the floor next to him, and most of his head was strewn about the walls and bathroom counter. We loaded the woman up in the ambulance, and our police backup pulled up.

I don’t think that woman blinked once the entire time she was in our care.” – TheFilthiest

22. “Bill’s Here”

“I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had an end-stage renal failure, had a DNAR (do not attempt resuscitation) and was shutting down. We were having a little chat when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said ‘Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go,’ and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.” – Jesspandapants

23. The Body on the Floor

“The call was for an older woman, lying in bed. When we get there, the smell is horrendous of a dead body. There are millions of flies everywhere and a little old lady in lying in the bed, alive. About five feet away, there is a body covered up by a sheet. The lady was a dementia patient, and her husband (the deceased) was the primary caregiver. Based on the number of flies and state of decomposition, the police estimated the guy had been dead for about three weeks. The woman must have been getting some food out of the refrigerator, but it was totally empty by the time we arrived.

The creepiest part happened on the way to the hospital with the woman, she said, ‘I hope that nice man on the floor is OK’.” – Tools4toys

24. The Fallen Cross

“I responded to a call where a janitor was dusting quite a large stone cross in the middle of a church. He had been up on a ladder cleaning, when he slipped off, and proceeded to try to hold onto the cross to keep from falling. Unfortunately, the weight of the 200-pound man was too much to support. The cross fell towards him, landing on his left arm, with a part of the horizontal stone of the cross, pushing his muscles and tendons out of his wrist like a squeezed toothpaste tube. Then the cross fell completely on him splattering his brain across the floor. Quite disturbing, and definitely the most horrific and gore filled call I had ever witnessed.” – UpboatOarKnotUpboat

25. The Headless Nurse

“I used to work in St Barts Hospital in London, which in parts is over 1,000 years old. One of the buildings had 2 floors (with massively high ceilings), and so the floors were taken out and rearranged to make into 5 floors. The nurses working night shift would often tell us of the ghost of a night nurse who wandered silently doing her ’rounds’ at night—but due to the new floors, only her head would be visible drifting down the ward.” – jenthejedi

26. Monsters

“I was still a nursing student at the time, but this was from when I had my psychiatric clinical placement in my 3rd year.

I was assigned to a young male patient with schizophrenia. He had been a voluntary admission because he heard voices telling him to hurt people around him, and he admitted himself because he was afraid of actually going through with it.

Anyway, I went into the room alone, as usual, and did the usual introduction and asking how he was doing. He was at a desk drawing creepy, hideous monsters—each monster had its own page, and there had to be at least half a dozen of these pages scattered around him. I asked him what they were. He answered that those were the monsters he saw. They were the monsters that whispered to him and told him to hurt people and do awful things. Guarded, I asked him, ‘Are they telling you to hurt me?’

He answered, ‘Yes.’

I didn’t stay very long in that room.” – duckface08

27. The Man in Black

“People turn batshit crazy and creepy as hell when they get really sick. There’s even a term called ICU psychosis…and trust me, it’s real. Anyway, the creepiest that takes the cake for me is this (am an ICU nurse, btw): Had a patient who was admitted for overdose. Very long history of mental health problems. She was thrashing around in bed, very combative, kicking people’s asses for days, totally incoherent.

Well, the night I had her, she started making decent sense, but still not oriented at all. She was extremely paranoid and kept talking about the man in black in the corner. I’d hear her talking to him and screaming, all night long. So I’d go in there and try to calm her down, but you could see the fear in her eyes. she was talking other nonsense about how she was in space and shit, and with certain patients, you try to redirect their ‘reality,’ but what I did didn’t help. She said ‘that man in black! Don’t you see him!’ and pointed to the corner. I said ‘there’s nobody here.’ I stepped in the corner she was pointing to and waved my hands around. While I’m waving my hands around in the air, she had the most horrifically terrified look on her face that actually scared the shit out of me, like I had just assaulted the man in black. I said ‘see, there’s nobody here’ and she said in a matter-of-factly that’s what you think.’ I promptly got the fu*k out of there.” – HeatherTakasaki

28. Eyes Wide Open

“I work in palliative. Most deaths I’ve seen have been more or less peaceful, though the ones that are not, stick with you. One guy was silently screaming through his last few hours of life. Another guy (who up until this point had been unresponsive) reached up and grabbed me when we attempted to lower his bed to turn him.

One time while doing post-mortem care I walked into the room and thought ‘that’s weird, how come nobody has closed his eyes yet?’ He had that movie-perfect dead look, with pale blue staring eyes and slack jaw and greyish, waxy skin. I closed his eyes and started the care, and when I looked again those eyes, still staring at me, were slowly opening, one slightly slower than the other. He groaned when we turned him to wash his back and his hand managed to clamp onto the bed rail and we had to pry it off. When we finally got him onto his back again, there was a foul-smelling, oily black, viscous liquid on the pillowcase. I cleaned his mouth again thinking it must have come from there, but his mouth and nose were clean. The best I could figure the stuff had come from his eye. I couldn’t wait to get that bag zipped up.” – draakons_pryde

29. Crawling up the Hallway

“I used to work as an STNA in a nursing home. Worked third shift throughout university. During the night we turned half the lights off so it was darker for the evening and didn’t get a lot of light in the residents’ rooms. We had one resident who was younger (70s) and was mostly in for mental reasons. She had long, dark hair and was very thin.

I was sitting at the nurse’s station at the top of the hall and heard a call light go off. I stood up, looked down the dark hall, and on all fours—straight out of The Ring—this resident was crawling up the hall toward me. The other STNA had forgotten to put the bed rail up and the resident was VERY good at climbing out of bed.

Needless to say, I needed some new britches and my heart was racing a mile a minute.” – blameitonthewookie

30. Heaven

“Had a young woman in full liver failure. She was orange in color and she was still conscious. She asked me what I thought it would be like to die. I told her I didn’t know but I hoped it wouldn’t be painful. She then asked me if I thought I would go to heaven. I told her that I believed I would. She asked me if I thought she would go to heaven, and I told her I wasn’t able to answer that question.

She then told me ‘I am going to heaven and I know it,’ and I asked her how she knew that and she told me something that I will never ever forget. She told me ‘I know I am because that man over there told me so.’ I asked what man and she said the man sitting on the end of the bench. I asked her what he looked like and she said ‘he looks just like the Jesus on the windows of my church.’

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.” – Anonymous

#30 Doctors Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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allsassnoclass · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

Ficmas Day 1 for @calumsclifford <3

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin

Rating: Teen and Up

Key Tag(s): Fake/Pretend Relationship, Office Party, Pining, Fluff, no warnings needed

Word Count: 15,665

Read on AO3

—

“And you asked Luke and Calum, but neither of them could do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you asked some other people, who also said no?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t ask me?”

Michael had not come up with a reason beyond I’m in love with you and that seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Uh,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d want to. I mean, I already ask you for so much.”

“That’s stupid,” Ashton says. “I like fancy parties, and spending time with you, and helping you. If you’re really set against telling them the truth, then I can be your fake boyfriend for the night.”

Michael has been letting everyone at the office believe he has a boyfriend for the past few months. Things become complicated when they ask to meet his boyfriend at the company winter party.

—

“I need you to be my boyfriend!”

It’s a testament to their experience as friends that neither Calum nor Luke look surprised to have Michael burst through their door haphazardly. He knows his cheeks are flushed from the cold and running up the stairs and his coat probably isn’t buttoned properly and he only has one mitten on, but he’s in a crisis. Calum and Luke don’t even bat an eye, although Luke lifts himself up from where he was tucked against Calum and frowns.

“Which one of us were you talking to? Also, Calum and I are in a monogamous relationship already. Sorry, Mikey.”

“Not my actual boyfriend,” Michael says, kicking off his shoes. There’s snow clinging to the sides, and he steps gingerly over any damp spots in the entry before flinging his coat down on the armchair and flopping right next to Calum on the couch.

“What other type of boyfriend is there?” Luke asks.

“A fake one.”

That finally gets Calum’s attention, who had been pretending that the news was somehow more riveting than Michael’s crisis.

“What did you do?” Calum accuses.

“Nothing!”

Calum’s eyes narrow.

“I maybe have let everyone at work assume that I have a boyfriend and now they expect to meet him at the company holiday party.”

Calum sighs heavily, as if he hasn’t been Michael’s accomplice in far worse situations.

“How did that happen?”

“It just did,” Michael shrugs. “Someone asked if I had a girlfriend back in September, and I said ‘boyfriend’ and they took it to mean that I have a boyfriend rather than want one.”

He had only been working there for three weeks when someone asked the question, and he had been so tired of not setting the record straight at the first possible opportunity. It’s tedious to laugh off something like that and then have to come out later, and Michael figured that if anyone was going to be homophobic at least he would find out then instead of later when he had time to possibly grow to like them first.

Thankfully it hadn’t been an issue, as two other people in the department have same-sex partners.

Everyone there respects his privacy, so he hasn’t had to make up too many details, and it’s been nice to not have to acknowledge just how long it’s been since he last got to kiss a guy, let alone date one.

“Just tell them you don’t have one,” Luke says.

“If I was planning on doing that, I would’ve done so three months ago when this whole thing started. Besides, I think there’s a betting pool involved, or at least a lot of behind my back speculation. There are stakes now.”

“This is what you get for lying,” Calum says, shaking his head. Michael pouts.

Michael was always told that one day, his little white lies would come back to bite him in the butt. He doesn’t make a habit out of fibbing, but sometimes it’s simply easier to say something less-than true in order to save further pain down the road. Insisting that he had done all of his homework by himself was easier than admitting that he and Calum did half each, and he got more free time out of it. Telling Calum that Luke ate the last cookie instead of him saved Calum from a foul mood, because he’s unable to stay mad at Luke. Telling Ashton that he was not, in fact, planning him a birthday party made the surprise that much sweeter.

When he told his coworkers that he has a boyfriend, he had expected this to be like every other little, insignificant lie he tells. Now, he is paying the price. He’s probably paying the price for every single lie he’s ever gotten away with in the past.

“This is a bit extreme for karma,” he says. “Anyway, it’d be one night only, and apparently the party is pretty fancy. Since headquarters is just over in Minneapolis, we’re invited to join theirs. There’s a raffle with big prizes, plus a free catered dinner.”

“If it’s with headquarters, neither of us can go,” Luke says. “My cousin works there. She’d recognize me or Cal, and she definitely knows we’re dating each other, not you.”

“Really?” Michael asks. “Shit. You two were my best bets. I needed to pick someone who wouldn’t fall in love with me.”

“You know,” Luke says. “We do have another friend who is single and who you want to fall in love with you.”

“No,” Michael says. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just think about it,” Luke says. “Ashton would probably have a great time, and you’d get to show him off, maybe kiss him under the mistletoe...”

“He’d do it,” Calum says. “He bends over backwards to help you already, and he loves schmoozing at fancy parties. Plus, depending on how fancy it is you might get to see him in a suit.”

“No,” Michael repeats. “The last thing I need is to have Ashton pretend to be my boyfriend. If he was going to fall in love with me, he would’ve done it by now, and I don’t need a taste of what being with him would be like without any of the substance.”

Luke huffs and sits back. Calum merely raises his eyebrows.

“Good luck finding someone else to go along with this.”

Michael flips him off and gets out his phone to start making calls. He gets through seven refusals before he finally considers that Ashton may be the best viable option.

“No luck?” Calum asks, smirking. Michael slumps against the couch and rubs at his eyes.

“Roy said that this is probably the universe giving me a sign. Also he’s busy on the night of the party.”

“I can’t picture Roy and you pretending to date, anyway,” Luke says. “Honestly, I think all of those would’ve failed. Your coworkers would see through you in an instant. You’d become the laughing stock of the office.”

“I could’ve at least had fun with Jack,” Michael says.

“He would’ve been laughing at you and texting Alex the entire time,” Calum says. “Call Ashton. Better yet, go to his house and talk it out in person. Luke and I are supposed to be on a date in 30 minutes.”

“He’s expecting you,” Luke says, typing out something on his phone. “He made baked ziti and needs you to help him eat it.”

“Did you tell him?” Michael asks, sitting up so fast he gets dizzy.

“I just said that you’re in crisis and will be coming over.”

“He’s going to laugh at me.”

“You deserve it,” Calum says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But you also know that he’s going to do everything he can to help you, and he’ll have better suggestions than me or Luke. We’re good at getting you into trouble, not out of it.”

Michael sighs. It’s not that he thought he could somehow keep this situation a secret from Ashton, but it’s still mortifying to consider confessing to him that he’s done something stupid enough to require finding a fake boyfriend in order to continue a long con he’s pulling on his coworkers.

He should probably tell everyone that he never had a boyfriend to begin with, but that seems like too little, too late when he has already panicked and told everyone that his boyfriend will come to the holiday party. Michael is not a quitter. This may not be a competition, but he will win, and winning means not facing the embarrassment of admitting the truth.

“Okay,” he sighs. “I can’t believe you two are kicking me out in my time of need so you can go on a date.”

“Talk to Ashton and you might get a date for the holiday party,” Calum says. “Then you can stop being a third wheel and we can double date instead of kicking you out.”

“I hope this works out for you, Mikey,” Luke says.

“Don’t give me false hope, please,” he says. “It’s been years.”

Michael stands in silence, the others knowing better than to try and convince him Ashton could possibly like him, too. He ran out of hope for that a long time ago, and he’s been attempting and failing to get rid of this pesky crush ever since.

“Stay warm out there,” Calum says, standing and following him to the door. “Tell Ashton we say hi. If there’s anything else we can do to help, just ask.”

“You’re sure that neither of you can be my boyfriend?” Michael asks one last time, slipping his arms into his coat and fighting with the zipper.

“Sorry,” Luke says, not sounding very sorry at all. “Ask Ashton!”

“Fuck you,” Michael calls back cheerily, stepping out the door.

Leaving the sanctuary of the apartment complex for the cold of a Minnesota winter sucks, especially since his car has cooled down almost all the way again, but Ashton’s house isn’t too far away. Michael is the outlier, living in a suburb while the others stayed closer to the heart of St. Paul. He likes being close enough to the cities to easily commute for work and have access to all of the events happening, but it’s nice to not have to fight traffic for every little thing, even if the roads outside his house aren’t always plowed as nicely as the ones outside Ashton’s.

He traverses the familiar streets until he finally pulls into Ashton’s driveway with just enough room behind Ashton’s car that he’s not blocking the sidewalk. Ashton has some Christmas lights up, just a string of simple blue ones following his roofline. Michael sits in his car and watches them blink on and off, giving the impression of the stars they can’t see from light pollution, or of gently falling snow.

Ashton appears in his kitchen window, reaching into the cupboard next to it, surrounded by warm light. He glances out and spots Michael’s car, face splitting into a smile and giving him a wave. Michael has been in this position a million times before, but he wonders what it would be like if Ashton was calling him into their house after a long day, without having to leave at the end of the night.

He’s been spotted now. Michael has no choice but to get out of the car.

“Hi,” Ashton calls from the kitchen when he lets himself in. “Make yourself at home! Dinner’s almost ready!”

Michael likes Ashton’s house. It’s small, but in a way that mostly feels cozy rather than cramped. The outside is white but the door is a light red, verging on pink, and each of the rooms inside is painted a different color, something which Ashton always says he’s going to change but has never gotten around to doing. Michael hangs up his coat on one of the many hooks by the entrance, then toes off his shoes and flexes his fingers, trying to get some warmth back into them. He runs cold, so winter is a constant struggle to keep his fingers from freezing off.

He steps into the living room, painted a pale green with mismatched furniture and warm blankets thrown over every surface. Michael helped pick out the rug that dominates most of the floor space, and it makes him happy every time he comes over to see it. Ashton doesn’t have a tree yet, but there’s a space for it cleared in the corner. The dining room and kitchen are one room right off the living room and painted yellow. Michael wanders over to the baking pan covered in foil, lifting up the corner to inhale the scent of freshly-cooked pasta, cheese, and sauce.

“Hey, no premature tasting,” Ashton says. “If you’re going to be in the kitchen, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“You could say hello before you start ordering me around,” Michael says. Ashton stops flittering around long enough to pause in front of Michael, hands on hips and smile on his face. There’s steamed broccoli on the counter that definitely added to the current frizziness of his hair, and he’s wearing an off-white cable-knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Michael hates himself for the way everything about this situation makes his heart flutter.

“I said hello when you first got here. You’re the one breaking in to eat my food without a word of greeting.”

“Hi, Ashton,” Michael says, accepting the brief hug Ashton offers. “You’re welcome for helping eat your food so the leftovers don’t overtake your fridge.”

“If I knew how to adjust the cooking times on this recipe for smaller portions, I would.”

That’s a lie. Ashton enjoys feeding his friends. Michael has at least one dinner a week at Ashton’s house under the excuse of him making too much food for one person.

Michael gets out two plates and the appropriate silverware and sets the table. He gets out his favorite glass, a novelty Star Wars one with art of the celebration of Endor printed on it, and gets the matching Tatooine one for Ashton because he knows it’ll make him roll his eyes. There’s apple juice and water in the fridge, and by the time Ashton has brought all of the food over Michael is sitting patiently at the table, hands folded neatly in front of him.

“So,” Ashton says once they both have a good helping of baked ziti, broccoli, and garlic bread on their plates, “Luke said you’re in crisis?”

Michael sighs.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I’ll try,” Ashton says. Michael shamefully recounts the sticky situation he has brought upon himself, avoiding eye contact the entire time. Ashton chews slowly once he’s done, taking his time swallowing before he figures out what he wants to say.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, for lack of anything else.

“And you asked Luke and Calum, but neither of them could do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you asked some other people, who also said no?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t ask me?”

Michael had not come up with a reason beyond I’m in love with you and that seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Uh,” he says.

“If you don’t think you could pretend to like me, that’s fine. I was just curious,” Ashton says, stabbing at his broccoli.

“It’s definitely not that,” Michael says. “I didn’t think you’d want to. I mean, I already ask you for so much. I’m eating your pasta right now. It didn’t seem fair to ask you to do this, too.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ashton smiles, all dimples and sunshine. Michael wants to bask in Ashton’s smiles forever.

“Awesome. Crisis averted.”

It can’t be that simple, but Ashton’s easy confidence makes it feel like it is. Michael doesn’t know why he was freaking out about the situation. If anything, his crush on Ashton will make everything more believable, and Michael can pass himself off as a really good actor if questioned.

The rest of the night passes like every other dinner they’ve had with the two of them. They talk about their weeks and about any random topics they choose, then Ashton picks a CD and they do the dishes, Ashton washing and Michael drying. Ashton convinces him to stay later and watch a movie, and Michael lingers too long afterwards. When he eventually tears himself away, it’s only after a late-night cup of hot chocolate and multiple uncontrollable yawns.

When he goes to bed that night, he steadfastly does not think about how he will be calling Ashton his boyfriend in a few weeks.

-/-

Michael doesn’t talk to Ashton about fake dating again until the day before the party. He’s been forwarding the office emails about it, so Ashton knows the date and time, that this is a suit-worthy event, and what the food options are. Otherwise, though, their time together has been filled with everything except mentions of the party and the con that will go down there. Michael has been avoiding Luke and Calum due to all of the teasing, so he and Ashton go shopping for Luke and Calum’s presents together, Michael pointing out things that Ashton’s family might like on the way. Ashton has a list of Christmas movies he wants to watch that they begin steadily working through, and Michael begins a snowball fight one day that Ashton wins. Thankfully, Ashton agrees to make him cocoa and cuddle him after stuffing snow down the back of his jacket. Michael’s face gets red enough that Ashton frets he might be coming down with something.

The something is being hopelessly in love.

Ashton texts him on Friday asking if he wants to come over early so they can get ready together and talk through their boyfriend story.

Boyfriend story. He’s supposed to refer to Ashton as his boyfriend tomorrow.

He shows up at his house as requested, and Ashton greets him with a cup of hot cocoa, freshly made just the way Michael likes it. Ashton stocks up on cocoa mix as soon as it hits October, making it at any and every opportunity. On days when multiple people are over, sometimes he’ll make it from scratch, breaking out the cocoa powder, sugar, milk, and chocolate to create the best beverage Michael has ever tasted, sometimes with a secret ingredient Ashton makes him guess. Michael rarely gets it right, but the praise he gets from Ashton on the days where he does manage to identify the extra flavor makes every loss more than worth it.

Ashton takes his with marshmallows, but Michael prefers whipped cream. It warms him more than the beverage to see the pile of whip on top, stocked just for Michael.

“You put up your tree!” Michael calls while Ashton prepares his cup. There are no presents underneath nor stockings on the wall since Ashton spends Christmas day with his family, but the small fake tree is erected every year to help him get into a festive mood. Michael steps closer and recognizes most of the ornaments on it, either from previous Christmases or because he was there when they were bought. Pieces of a tiny drum set hang from a set of branches near the front, each part paid for by a different member of their friend group as a gift after Superbloom Studios opened. Michael bought the high hat.

“Second week of December. It’s tradition,” Ashton says, shuffling into the room carefully with a mug in each hand. Michael reaches for his, careful not to spill when he takes it from him.

“I saved your ornament,” he says, nodding to the coffee table where a small wooden “M” sits, painted to look like the torso of a snowman.

“Thanks,” Michael says, setting down the cocoa and picking up the ornament. It was originally a joke gift, but now every year Ashton ensures that he puts it on the tree. There’s a nice open branch near the bottom that he takes advantage of, giving himself time to admire the tree once more before finally sitting.

“So,” Ashton says. “How did we get together?”

Michael takes a sip of his cocoa, burning his tongue just slightly.

“You have whip on your nose,” Ashton says, just like he does every time. Michael sighs and swipes a thumb across it, sucking the whipped cream into his mouth so none of it goes to waste.

Ashton clears his throat.

“So. Boyfriend story.”

“Boyfriend story,” Michael agrees. “We have to have been together in September, but otherwise I’ve been really vague. We can make up whatever we want.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, nodding. “We should probably stick as close to truth as possible, so our meeting story can still be the same, but maybe we started dating mid-summer?”

“The lake trip?”

“Yeah!” Ashton says. “Do you remember that night, it was like our second night there, where we just sat at the end of the dock and looked at the stars? Everyone else was at the bonfire, so it was just us. Maybe I asked you then.”

Michael remembers that night clearly. He had gone down to the dock to get some space, needing a breather after all of the activity of the day and Ashton walking around without a shirt basically since they got there. Even so, when Ashton eventually joined him it was like a sigh of relief. He knows more about stars than Michael does, so Michael leaned back and let him point out different constellations and make up stories for unfamiliar ones, trying not to stare at the shadowy profile of Ashton instead of the sky. The small waves of the lake rose and fell, covering his ankles then dipping lower in a steady rhythm mimicking his heartbeat. Ashton kept their arms pressed together almost the entire time.

He had wanted to kiss him, so he pushed him in the lake instead.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “That sounds good.”

“Okay, good. Great! What else do we need to figure out? How serious are we?”

“Uh, medium?” Michael asks. “It’s been five months, so nothing too daunting but more than just a casual thing.”

“What’s the PDA going to look like?”

“Uh,” Michael says. Ashton takes a sip of his cocoa.

“I mean… are we still in the honeymoon phase? Will we be holding hands a lot? What’s our game plan if we somehow end up under the mistletoe? I don’t think anyone can make us kiss without opening themselves up to a workplace harassment suit, but are we going to do a cheek kiss? Are you okay with me kissing you? What about--”

“You need to slow down,” Michael says. “Give me some time to think, jeez.”

“Sorry,” Ashton says. “Boundaries are important. I don’t want to cross any.”

“You won’t. I’m down for anything.”

“Really?” Ashton asks, skeptical. He sets his cocoa down and moves until he’s right next to Michael on the couch, then slings an arm around his shoulder, tucking him close. Michael melts into his side easily. “So something like this would be fine?”

“You mean what I do with you, Calum, and Luke at every opportunity?’

“Okay,” Ashton says, adjusting so his hand is now on Michael’s thigh. It’s more unfamiliar, a different weight in a more intimate spot, but not unwelcome. Michael suppresses the shiver it sends through him.

“Still okay,” he says.

“Alright,” Ashton says. After a moment of consideration, he takes Michael’s mug from him and replaces it with his own hand, clasping them together palm to palm.

“Wait, I don’t like this,” he says, adjusting so their fingers are threaded together instead, then undoing it and just holding their hands flat against each other. Michael lines their hands up, fingers following the same lines. He wonders if Ashton can feel the calluses that form whenever Michael has time to pick up a guitar. The metal of his rings is warmer than Michael anticipated. Every moment that they stay frozen like that makes Michael’s heart pound harder, even though they’re simply touching hands, something ordinary and barely worthy of comment.

“Your hands are freezing,” Ashton says quietly.

“Your hands make mine look so tiny,” Michael says.

“They are tiny,” Ashton says. “I’m trying to figure out how to hold them.”

“Like this.” Michael laces their fingers together again gently, one space over from how Ashton had done it. “Who knew that holding hands would be the thing to trip you up?”

“I guess I haven’t had anyone’s hands to hold in a while. I’m out of practice on this whole romance thing.”

“You’re doing alright so far.”

“Well, this is the easy stuff. Are you sure you’re down for anything?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, heart leaping into his throat at the possibility of what that could mean.

Ashton hums, then shifts so he’s facing Michael. His eyes search his face and Michael does his best not to show any of his thoughts, especially how much he wants Ashton to do one particular thing. He steadfastly keeps his gaze locked on his eyes instead of letting it flicker down to his lips.

Ashton leans in slowly, telegraphing his movements, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, nose pressing into his cheekbone and breath against his face. Michael can’t stop his inhale, catching a whiff of Ashton’s favorite cologne, just from the proximity.

“Still okay,” he manages to say. Ashton doesn’t lean back, comfortable staying in Michael’s space, probably close enough to hear how loudly his heart is beating.

“And if I moved a few inches to the left?”

Michael swallows.

“Still okay.”

For a moment he thinks that Ashton might do it, just to see how far he can press. Michael will always meet him challenge for challenge, and he has the perfect excuse for it. Ashton’s just so close, and Michael might never have this opportunity again despite fantasizing about it for years. It would be so easy to now. He almost turns and presses their lips together himself, but Ashton pulls away right before he finds the courage to do so.

“Okay,” Ashton says, picking up his cocoa again. “We can play it by ear. We’ll just do what feels natural and appropriate for the situation. Sound good?”

Michael nods. Ashton glances at him over his mug.

“Are you sure? You’re in charge here, Michael. I’m willing to do whatever you want me to.”

“No, that’s good,” he says. “That’s the best way to do it.”

Ashton observes him for a moment longer, in that way that makes Michael feel like he’s revealing too much. Secrets from Ashton are the hardest ones to keep, but he’s had a lot of practice.

“If you say so,” Ashton says. “If I do something you don’t like, just tell me.”

“Yeah, same to you.”

Michael picks up his mug again.

“What do you think our worst date was?” Ashton asks. Michael snorts into his cocoa, because only Ashton would put that as a high priority part of their boyfriend story, but they spend almost all of the time until they need to get ready coming up with increasingly ridiculous scenarios and arguing over whether either of them would plan that as a date in the first place. Michael has long since finished his drink by the time Ashton checks the time and says they need to get ready.

Michael doesn't start to feel nervous until he's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, struggling with his tie and feeling ridiculous for it. The office encourages business casual, so he rarely has to wear one, but apparently because the party is joint with headquarters the dress code is stricter.

Michael was not made for formal wear. He feels best when he gets to dress down, and he knows that his preferred hairstyle doesn't always align with a clean suit and tie. For a long time, he didn't even have a suit coat that fit right, but his parents paid for one for his birthday over a year ago with the idea that it'd help him get a better job. It did eventually work, but he never breaks it out unless he has to.

“Hey Michael?" Ashton calls from outside. "Do I need a tie if I wear a red shirt instead of a white one?"

"Do whatever you want," Michael responds. "Just be sure you're not showing all your chest hair. Can you tie my tie?"

Ashton pushes the door open. Michael catches a flash of red out of the corner of his eye before he turns and takes in the full picture. Ashton looks stunning, and even though Michael expected that it takes his breath away. His suit fits his shoulders nicely and tapers at the waist, and the red compliments his skin tone well, bold and vivid. Michael is pleased to see that only the top two buttons are undone, keeping things appropriate, but there's a thin gold chain peaking out just below his collarbones. He wants to trace it with his finger, then let his hands wander lower.

"Wow," he says. "You clean up nice."

"My hair is a mess. I need to put some gel in it before we go," Ashton says, batting Michael's hands away from his tie and taking over. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Michael admits, tilting his chin up to give Ashton better access. "This would be a bit nerve-wracking even without the fake boyfriend thing. I don't think I'm going to know many people there."

"Well, you'll have me." He tightens the tie, then cups Michael's cheek. He leans into it, leaching the comfort provided.

"There," Ashton says. "I have the most handsome boyfriend tonight. He was even considerate enough to match his tie to my shirt. Everyone is going to be jealous."

"Thanks," Michael says. He steps back and hands Ashton the container of hair cream on the counter, watching him rub a bit of it between his fingers then comb through his hair, adjusting the way it's artfully tousled and smoothing the sides until he's satisfied.

"Maybe I have the most handsome boyfriend tonight," he says.

"Now you're just trying to butter me up," Ashton replies, grinning at him. "I already agreed to this. The flattery is unnecessary, but not unwelcome."

"Can't I just think you're a good looking guy?" Michael asks, trying to keep the tone teasing like he would with Luke or Calum. "You're a sexy motherfucker, Irwin; I hate to break it to you."

"That's rich coming from you."

"We don't have time for this," Michael laughs, pushing him out of the bathroom. "I can't show up late to my first office winter party just because you won't take my compliment without trying to one-up me."

"There are worse reasons to be late," Ashton protests, planting his feet so Michael has to actually put in an effort, stumbling when Ashton suddenly relents. He catches Michael with a cheeky grin.

"Move," Michael laughs, savoring how close they're standing, tethered together by Ashton's hands on his elbows. "We have to go."

Ashton’s eyes search his face, suspended in the moment like he knows that Michael wants nothing else than to live here forever. Michael sways forward, magnetic pull too strong, but Ashton steps back in the same moment, moving them out of the bathroom and tugging him towards the door.

“Bundle up,” Ashton says. “I hear it’s cold outside.”

-/-

The venue is simultaneously huge and very difficult to find. Ashton puts the address in his phone, but he’s a bad navigator and recent snowfall makes the roads slick, complicating the driving process more. They’re supposed to get more snow tonight, but Michael can find Ashton’s house in any context and situation, like a homing pigeon on the return journey. It would be his most useless skill if he didn’t end up in the driver’s seat after almost every gig they go to, Ashton always too hyped up and focused on the music to enjoy driving home.

The nearest place to park is a block away and lands Ashton in a snowbank. Michael gets out first and offers him a steadying hand, and Ashton beats him to paying the meter. He links their arms as they walk, breath fogging in front of their faces.

“It’s a beautiful night, sweetheart,” Ashton says.

“Sweetheart?”

“Just trying out some pet names, seeing what fits, honey. Darling? I feel like I shouldn’t be saying babe if we’re both wearing suits in front of your fancy work friends.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Michael says, as if he hasn’t bit his tongue against calling Ashton babe before. He’s not the type of person who can pull off platonic pet names.

“We’re really flying by the seat of our pants here.”

“It’ll be fine, right?” Michael asks. “No one has a reason to think I’m lying, so they’ll believe us even if we mess up.”

“They will,” Ashton says. “I’m going to be so in love with you they’ll wonder if we’re eloping tomorrow.”

Michael’s heart leaps into his throat. When Ashton puts his mind to something, it happens. He might really have to watch himself to ensure that he doesn’t fall for their lie, too.

“Is this it?” Ashton asks under his breath as they arrive at the doors. A couple in front of them pull them open, the woman in a longer dress and the man wearing a peacoat over his suit. “Damn, Michael, maybe I should’ve worn a tie.”

“It’ll be fine,” Michael says. “No one is going to be paying attention to us. Besides, you never have to see these people again.”

Ashton hums, holding the door for Michael and following him into the venue entrance. He lets out a low whistle once he sees what’s inside.

The floor looks like it’s marble. There’s a chandelier, golden light reflecting off of crystalline shards to pepper dots like stars across the space. Evergreen trees stand in the corner, gold and silver lights hidden within the branches and surrounded by red and blue baubles. If this is the entry, Michael can’t imagine what the actual event space looks like.

“Hey. Coat check,” Ashton says, nudging Michael out of his chandelier-induced trace and towards the area where an employee waits to take their coats in exchange for a numbered ticket. A different employee at the entrance then asks for their names, because apparently this party needs a guest list , before they finally enter the main event space.

It’s just as stunning as the entry. There’s a larger chandelier in this one, hanging over rows of tables with red and gold tablecloths. Each table has a centerpiece, some with evergreen boughs and pine cones, some with ribbon and candles, each one stunning. Near the front of the room, Michael thinks he can make out an open dance floor and a small stage through the clumps of people in suits and fancy dresses.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says. “This is a party for people who make six figures. I do not belong here.”

“I thought you audit a bank for farmers,” Ashton says. “Don’t normal work parties include ugly sweater contests and too much eggnog? Why the fuck do farm bankers need suits and chandeliers?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Michael says, eyes scanning over the people he can see in a desperate attempt to find a familiar face. Only half of these people are from headquarters, but Michael still only knows the people in his department. He doesn’t have much contact with people outside of it due to the variety of companies making up their conglomerate, each with a different set of staff.

“Michael!” someone calls. It takes a moment to spot Harry coming towards him, which shouldn’t be possible because Harry’s suit has colorful flowers on it. He’s holding hands with a man Michael recognizes as his husband only because Harry never shuts up about him, making his way through the crowd with a level of enthusiasm that Michael can feel himself automatically mirroring. Harry’s joy has always been infectious, getting Michael through a few long days since he got hired.

Ashton shifts closer and Michael’s adrenaline spikes with the knowledge that the ruse starts now. Harry is Michael’s favorite coworker: if they trick him, they can probably trick everyone.

"Hello," Harry says once he gets close enough to be heard over the sound of everyone else in the room talking and what seems to be faint classical music in the background. "You're the first person I've recognized here."

"Same," Michael says. "I wasn't expecting it to be this crowded."

"Headquarters is big," Harry says. "At least we get free food and to see Lou in a suit."

Harry's companion rolls his eyes.

"You haven't even introduced us and already you're objectifying me. I'm Louis, Harry's husband," he says, sticking out a hand. Michael takes it.

"Michael," he says. "This is Ashton."

"Michael's boyfriend," Ashton adds, taking Louis's hand next and making Michael’s heart stutter. It rolls off Ashton’s tongue so naturally. He’ll probably be hearing him say that in his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Harry lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Ashton," he enthuses. "It's so good to meet you. Alexis owes me fifty dollars."

"What for?" Michael asks.

"Well, we were betting if Ashton was your boyfriend or not. You never actually told us which one of your friends it is, but I could tell by how you talk about him. She thought that was too obvious for how cryptic you were being."

"You talk about me to your work friends?" Ashton asks. Michael tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"All the time," Harry says.

“Do I need to be worried?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “I’ve revealed all of your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“It’s cute,” Harry says. “You can tell he thinks the world of you.”

“I don’t even mention Ashton that that much,” he protests. “Not nearly as much as you talk about Louis.”

“No one can top Harry for that,” Louis snorts. “I swear, no one I meet through him ever needs an introduction, because he’s probably already told them everything they could possibly want to know.”

“If it makes you feel better, I know nothing about you,” Ashton says. “You can introduce yourself to me.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” Louis says cheekily.Ashton easily sweeps him into conversation, listening intently to his stories as a drama teacher and asking the right questions to keep things going. Michael has heard half of this information from Harry already, but Louis breathes a new life into it. Michael watches him speak, noticing the way that Harry easily leans into him, how they seamlessly finish each other’s sentences and subconsciously know exactly how they fit together. Louis gestures and Harry shifts so he won’t get hit, leaning back into his space with a hand on his back within the next second. Their eyes light up when they glance at each other in between breaths, and Michael feels a pang in his gut.

He wants something like that, someday. It’s the same thing that he sees with Calum and Luke, or Jack and Alex. He wants to share those small touches and brief looks with someone else and know that they’re returned fully. He knows that he sometimes displays his fondness all over his face when he looks at Ashton, but it’s not the same when he has to look away to keep from getting caught.

At least he doesn’t have to look away tonight. He can probably spend as much time as he wants admiring Ashton’s smile and eyes and jawline and everything without repercussions. After all, he’s supposed to be in love, and someone should appreciate that one stubborn strand of hair brushing Ashton’s forehead.

“...Right, Michael?” Ashton asks, words finally reaching Michael’s ears.

“Yeah,” he says, blinking himself out of his daze. He feels his cheeks heat up in a blush. It probably won’t be the last time tonight. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“I was telling Louis about Superbloom Studios,” Ashton says, bumping their shoulders together. “Mentioned how you helped Matt and I learn how to use the equipment way back when we first bought it, and now there are secret Michael Clifford demos that legally can’t see the light of day without copyright infringement.”

“You’ve had much better musicians pass through your doors since,” Michael says. “Want to reveal who your most recent client was?”

Ashton mimes zipping his lips.

“You know I can’t until they announce the album. We’re trying to make the Twin Cities a hot spot for Top 40s artists to record, not chase them all away by breaking confidentiality.”

“But a song you produced could be on Top 40 radio soon?” Louis asks. “That’s impressive.”

“We’ll see,” Ashton sings. “I’m not in the habit of counting my chickens before they hatch.”

“No, you’re just in the habit of being a tease.”

Ashton quirks an eyebrow. It makes Michael itch to do something, although he doesn’t know what.

Eventually, he decides to just roll his eyes and cross his arms, pouting a bit. Ashton slips an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to the side of his head, the first real point of contact since entering the event space, and his stomach somersaults multiple times in a row.

Harry and Louis look amused, not suspicious.

“I like this side of you,” Harry says.

“What side?” Michael asks.

“The in-love one. You’re… lighter.”

Michael opens his mouth, but ultimately doesn’t know what to say to that. Ashton replies instead.

“I like it, too.”

They spend the next few minutes talking to Harry and Louis, filling time while other people who seem leagues more comfortable with this event fill the space. Eventually the clock must tick over to the starting time, because someone steps up to the podium at the front of the room and taps the microphone asking for attention.

“Is that our president?” Michael asks Harry, completely not paying attention to the short opening statement about the “success of the company” and how it’s been a “phenomenal year full of milestones and achievements.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back. "He'll get up and talk again later, after dinner. Speaking of, we should find a table."

Harry looks over everyone until he sees someone he recognizes, grabbing Louis's hand to start covertly making their way through the crowd, glancing back at Michael and nodding in the direction he's going. Michael grabs Ashton, who seems like he was actually trying to listen, and follows them. As weird as holding his hand earlier had been, weaving through the people standing around with a hand around Ashton’s wrist is comfortable and familiar. It's nothing that they haven't done before at crowded shows pushing towards the barricade or particularly busy streets, but Michael doesn't have to let go once they reach their destination if he doesn't want to.

Their destination ends up being a trio of tables near the center of the room flooded with people that Michael finally recognizes. Alexis, Miranda, Dalmar, Imani, and Jason all wave when they arrive, surrounded by who Michael assumes are their own plus-ones. They slip into seats next to Alexis and her partner, trying to make as little commotion as possible with the president of the company still talking at the front.

While Harry is his favorite coworker, Alexis is arguably the most entertaining. She gets away with pranks and backtalk that Michael is too worried about job security to ever consider, but her after-work gatherings are always a highlight of the week. It would be possible that management is keeping her around solely to boost morale if not for her eye for detail that has saved mistakes from appearing in many projects and reports.

"Hey," Alexis whispers, leaning across Michael to grab Ashton's attention. "I'm Alexis. What's your name?"

"Ashton Irwin," Ashton says, giving her a smile. Alexis swears, dropping her head down to the table.

"You owe me money," Harry stage whispers. She takes a few bills out of her purse without looking and throws them in his general direction. "Thank you!"

"I want to be included in the next office betting pool," Michael whispers. "I want to cheat you out of fifty dollars next time."

"It's not hard," Harry says. "She always bets to lose."

Alexis flips him off.

The president continues to drone on, and Michael starts bouncing his leg up and down out of boredom until Ashton places a hand on it to stop him. He mouths an apology, but Ashton simply slips off his puzzle ring, handing it over. Michael hopes his smile conveys how grateful he is to have something else to fidget with.

When the president finally stops talking, Michael pays attention to his surroundings just enough to realize that tables are being dismissed to go get food one by one. It looks like they won't get to join the line for a while, to his great disappointment. He's getting pretty hungry and the thought of Alexis interrogating Ashton without a distraction makes him nervous. He hands back the ring and switches to tracing the poinsettia pattern woven into the tablecloth, trying not to fidget more while Alexis introduces Jamie and points out the rest of his coworkers at the other tables to Ashton.

"So," Alexis says, leaning on her elbow and propping her head up with her fist, "Michael has told us a few things about you, but how did you meet?"

"At college," Ashton says, draping his arm across the back of Michael's chair as he turns to face Alexis more fully. "We met at a party once, but we didn't really talk until a mutual friend brought us together. He's been one of my best friends ever since."

"Oh, you two have been together a long time," Alexis says.

"We didn't get together until this summer," Ashton corrects good-naturedly. "It was a lot of pining before that. I mean, you've met Michael. I never stood a chance."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael frowns.

"Falling for you was inevitable, sweetheart."

Michael blinks at him. That's not something he ever expected to hear, a little over the top even for their fake romance, and he absolutely does not have a response prepared.

"Aw, that's sweet," Alexis says. "Please tell me you guys are actually a normal couple and not a pile of goop like those two over there. Believe me, I love love as much as the next person, but if Jamie and I are the only two here who aren't completely and grossly obsessed with each other we're going to move to the straight coworkers’ table."

"Hey," Harry says, breaking his conversation with Louis to flip her off. Alexis returns it without even glancing at him, an ingrained part of their banter by now. It’s surprising that they haven't gotten reprimanded for it in the office yet.

"If we were as bad as them, you wouldn't have lost fifty dollars just now, don't you think?" Michael asks.

"He has a point," Jamie says. "Besides, everyone is entitled to a honeymoon period."

She takes Alexis's hand on the table and squeezes. Alexis rolls her eyes but squeezes back.

Ashton asks them how long they've been together, then effectively keeps the focus on everyone else at the table instead of them. One of his many skills is making everyone in the room feel like they are the most important person, and Michael is glad that he doesn't have to try to deflect or make up stories right now. Maybe it'll be easier later. Ashton already has everyone he's met wrapped around his finger and hanging off his every word, drawn by the magnetic energy he carries that made Michael first talk to him at that college party all those years ago, but some part of Michael still feels like everyone is going to see through their facade. He knows that theoretically no one cares, but the confirmation of the betting pool makes him jittery. It shouldn't be a big deal, but now he hasn't just lied about having a boyfriend, he's lied about the boyfriend being Ashton , and somehow that's worse.

Still, he can't let Ashton pull all of the weight. He needs to start selling this, too.

Should he initiate some sort of PDA? It's not like he can naturally grab one of Ashton's hands, because he's still leaning on Michael's chair, and anything else feels out of place. Besides, they said that they'd do what feels natural, and none of this is natural to him.

He's overthinking this. He should just pay attention and try to enjoy the night, but that seems like an impossible task with Ashton and Alexis boxing him in on either side. One of them is significantly more distracting than the other, but Michael finds himself wishing that they could just be alone, enjoying one of Ashton's home-cooked meals and the next Christmas movie on his list. Whatever catered dinner they have here isn't going to compare to the way any food tastes when Michael knows that Ashton is the one who made it for him while they enjoy it at his dining room table, and as much as he feels lucky to get on so well with his coworkers, he can do without their company if he has Ashton with him instead.

“Mike,” Ashton says, nudging him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Time to get food,” Ashton says, standing. Michael looks around the table and sees that everyone else is already making their way over to the buffet line. Ashton waits for him and sets a slow pace on their way over.

“You’re really spacey tonight. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “I’m fine.”

Ashton gives him an unimpressed look.

“Seriously,” Michael says. “I’m just overthinking. I’ll be much more enjoyable once we eat and I relax a bit.”

“What can I do?” Ashton asks.

“You’re really playing up the doting boyfriend thing.”

“Hey, no,” Ashton says, pausing. He looks around, then lowers his voice. “I’d ask that even if we weren’t boyfriends right now. You’re important to me, Michael. If I can do something for you, I want to.”

“Thanks,” Michael says. “It’s not a big deal, though. Like I said, once we’re eating and I have other things to focus on it’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Ashton nods once, then takes Michael’s hand. It feels more natural now than it was earlier, smile breaking out unbidden on his face as he squeezes back.

“Come on,” Ashton says. “Food time.”

The buffet is full of delicious options, with pit ham, chicken, pasta, potatoes, roasted vegetables, fruit, hummus, different breads with various spreads, and a cheese platter. Michael and Ashton collaborate to get a little bit of everything, something Ashton probably is only doing to make Michael happy given how closely he guards his food whenever they eat out. If that’s the intention, it works. Michael wants to taste everything, and he can only do that with two plates.

The soft instrumental music makes a return for dinner, gentle conversation starting up at the table once they sit and a staff member brings water around. Michael samples each dish on Ashton’s plate, letting Ashton take what he wants from his, finally settling enough to keep up his typical banter with Alexis, Harry, and their partners. He talks a bit with the other table, settling another bet between Imani and Dalmar and watches Imani collect twenty dollars for having the closest answer to when Michael and Ashton started dating. Her absolutely gleeful expression makes Michael snort, erasing some of the discomfort of the lie.

Staff members for the event space come around with options for dessert, and Michael is once again delighted when Ashton chooses something different from him, an apple crumble while Michael gets a slice of cake. Ashton pushes the plate towards him when it arrives, encouraging him to take a bite.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a forkful. The sweet tang of the fruit doesn’t compare to the sweetness in Ashton’s expression. Michael gets distracted by the pleased noise he makes at his own first bite and the way he licks his spoon after the last one, watching entranced until someone taps a microphone at the front, cutting the background music off abruptly.

“Before we get the party portion of the evening started, I want to make a few more quick announcements,” the president of the company says. He continues to prattle about numbers and figures that Michael can’t follow without them written out in front of him, but he understands as well as everyone else what “winter bonus” and the amount that come after it means.

“Are you going to use that on my Christmas present?” Ashton whispers, leaning close to speak into his ear.

“Shut up,” Michael says, elbowing him. “Maybe I’ll use it to get away from Luke and Cal for a bit.”

“Lake trip part two, this time just me and you?” Ashton asks. Michael doesn’t let himself consider what it would be like to exist at that same cabin from the summer alone with Ashton, with no other people or endless summer fun to distract him. The central heating is awful, so they’d probably spend a lot of time by the fireplace, possibly getting cozy under a blanket. They’d be able to go skating on the lake near shore, maybe after a late brunch. Ashton might sleep in for once in his life. Michael would love to be sleeping in the same bed instead of confined to one of the other rooms, cold and alone.

He’s not considering it. Instead he smiles, shakes his head, and gently pushes Ashton away, trying to refocus on what the president is saying rather than the man next to him.

“The raffle will take place at the end of the night, so be sure to stick around if you want a chance at any of the gift baskets or certificates. We have a beautiful backdrop for photographs in the back corner if you’d like a memory from the night, and leftovers from the buffet are now open. We’re lucky enough to be joined by one of Minneapolis’s fantastic live bands for the dancing portion of the evening, so please enjoy yourselves! Take time to celebrate, enjoy each other’s company, and make the most of this beautiful night. Here’s to many more like it!”

Michael applauds politely along with everyone else, sipping his water while he watches the band set up. Based on the instrumentation, he has absolutely no idea what genre of music they’ll be playing. The only thing that makes sense is the piano and vocalist, but there are also two electric guitars, a drummer, an upright bass, a cellist, a saxophone, and a trumpet. The singer introduces them as Eds and the Airplanes, then they launch into something between 1940’s big band and modern bubblegum pop. Somehow, everyone in the room seems to be in favor of it.

“Huh,” Michael says.

“I know these guys,” Ashton says. “They recorded with us in October.”

“Oh, so you can tell us that but you can’t say who else records with you?”

“They tagged us on Instagram,” Ashton says. “They don’t care if anyone knows what they’re up to. Besides, their manager loves me. It’s fine.”

“Must not love you that much if you’ve never told me about the band.”

Ashton shrugs, but before he can elaborate Harry is there, tapping them both excitedly on the arm.

“Let’s go dance!” he says. “Lou can teach you how to swing dance if you want. I think you can cha-cha to this song.” He does a quick few steps in place on beat, then smiles.

“You can cha-cha to it,” Louis says, appearing over Harry’s shoulder, “but that doesn’t mean that you should. Swing is the way to go here.”

“We’ve taken ballroom dancing classes,” Harry says, pleased. “Come on! Alexis said she’d only get up and dance if you two do, and if Alexis does it the rest of the department will.”

Michael will take every opportunity to push Alexis out of her comfort zone, so he gets up and pulls Ashton with him. There are a few other people doing some semblance of dancing on the outskirts of the dance floor space, mostly older couples, but as soon as Louis and Harry step onto it everything livens up, Louis twirling Harry around and then both of them move around the floor for a few seconds before Louis breaks their hold and rounds on the group.

“Okay, pair up! One of you has to be the lead, aka me, and the other gets to be the follow, aka Harry. Ready?”

“I’ll lead. Good rhythm,” Ashton says, intently watching Louis and trying to mimic his position. He takes Michael’s hand and puts a tentative hand on his waist. Michael does his best to focus and follow the intense three minute crash course that follows without stepping on Ashton’s toes. Ashton catches on right away, and Michael finds it easy to follow him once he gets the basic step down.

“Think you’ve got it?” Louis asks when the next song starts, something around the same tempo and equally as peppy.

“Hell yeah,” Ashton says. He starts the basic step, then twirls Michael and get him to move his feet.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much,” Michael says. He’s led in another spin, Ashton switching hands and Michael trying to remember which one he needs to grab to set them back to rights.

“No such thing,” Ashton replies. “I get to listen to music, be close to you, get the heart rate up a bit… what’s not to enjoy?”

“There are other ways to achieve all of that,” Michael says. Ashton wiggles his eyebrows, and Michael laughs and stumbles over the next few steps. They wait a few bars, then start again in rhythm, four steps with and around each other, Ashton tugging Michael across his body in circles, spinning him out only to pull him back in again.

“Maybe we should go ballroom dancing,” Ashton says. “This is fun. Harry and Louis might have the right idea.”

“I wasn’t expecting dancing tonight,” Michael says, “but I do think we’re the best-looking couple on this dancefloor.”

“Want to try a lift? Dirty Dancing style?”

Michael laughs so hard at the image that they have to pause in their dance, and by the time he recovers the song has ended and transitioned into something slower.

“Come on,” Michael says, leading Ashton back to the edge where the rest of his coworkers have congregated. They pass Harry and Louis on the way, both of them locked in a different style of dance to match the new tempo. Harry winks at him when they catch eyes.

“You didn’t tell us he could dance,” Alexis says to Michael.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Ashton says. “Michael can’t be expected to remember all of them.”

“He’s humble, too,” Michael says.

"Ashton Irwin, I thought that was you!"

Michael turns to find an unfamiliar woman approaching. Her hair is dyed with blues, greens, and yellows, a mixture that's both artistic and striking, especially when paired with the tight black dress she's wearing. She's pretty, with dark lipstick and a gold necklace drawing attention to her bust. If Michael didn't have the most beautiful person in the room next to him, he probably would give her a double take.

"Ashley!" Ashton says, immediately sweeping her into a hug.

"Can’t say I expected to see you here," she says.

"Me neither! I didn't realize your band would be playing tonight," he says. "Guys, this is my friend Ashley. She manages Eds and the Airplanes. We met when she booked our studio a couple months ago."

"Met, went on two dates, became friends instead, you know how it goes," Ashley says.

Michael's heart plummets, then completely stops when he sees the panicked expression on Ashton's face.

"Dates?" Alexis asks carefully. "When was this?"

"Summer," Ashton says quickly. Ashley frowns. "Back in the summer. June, I think. Before I started dating Michael, obviously."

"Dating Michael?" Ashley asks. "When the fuck did that happen, because it sure wasn't while my band was recording."

Oh holy shit. Their entire story is going to get blown apart because Ashton went on some dates with this incredibly attractive, music-smart woman, dates that Michael had no idea about despite theoretically being one of Ashton's best friends. They've seen each other consistently each week since college. When did Ashton have time to sneak around on dates? More importantly, why would he keep this from Michael?

Ashton is floundering for an explanation. Michael can't hear any of his attempts over the ringing in his ears.

"I have to--I have to use the bathroom," he says. He's leaving before anyone has a chance to try to stop him, weaving in between the tables as fast as he can without breaking out into a full-on sprint.

Everyone is going to know that he lied. Even if Ashton manages to charm his way through a salvageable story, why would anyone believe that Ashton would go for someone like him if Ashley is right there? If they didn't work out, why would he and Ashton be able to make it a full five months?

He pushes open the bathroom door, thankful that all of the stalls look empty. It's the type of fancy bathroom with a small armchair in the corner, and he sinks into it, cradling his head in his hands.

Fuck. What if everyone thinks Ashton is a cheater? What other reason would his coworkers have for Ashton's panic and the way Michael ran away? Why else wouldn't Michael know who Ashley is, if her relationship with Ashton was completely innocent?

Why didn't Ashton tell him about her?

The door opens again and Michael jumps.

"Michael?" Harry asks, eyebrows drawn together in concern. "What's wrong? I saw you leave the dance floor pretty quickly."

"I--"

He lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair then rubbing at his face, hoping desperately that Harry isn't going to laugh at him.

The cat's out of the bag, anyway. There isn't any way for them to recover from this.

"Ashton's not my boyfriend," he says.

Harry shuffles closer and crouches down by Michael's chair.

"He's not?" he asks slowly. Michael shakes his head.

"I don't have a boyfriend. I never have. I just didn't want to correct you guys when you all thought I did. I don't know, I guess it was nice to pretend for a bit, but everyone was so eager to meet him here, so I asked Ashton to fake it with me."

Harry hums.

"There's a woman here he went on some dates with. I didn't know about them, but they didn't meet until October, and I think she just accidentally busted the whole thing."

Harry hums again. He’s frowning, mouth turned down in a way that makes Michael scared that he just lost his best work friend.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. This is probably just karma.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says. He stands, then leans against the arm of Michael’s chair, putting an arm around his shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, you had me fooled.”

Michael laughs mirthlessly.

“That’s because I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Oh, Michael,” he says, squeezing him tighter.

“Yep,” he says, popping the last consonant. “Haven’t had time to get a real boyfriend when I’m hung up on him.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. There’s nothing else to say.

“And the worst thing is,” he starts, words falling unbidden now that he’s let himself speak, “now that I met her it’s like, how could I compare? I mean, she’s beautiful, and her hair is so gorgeous and fun and mine’s been dull and blonde for so long because otherwise it’ll fall out, and she obviously knows a lot about music while I’ve barely picked up my guitar in the past few weeks and just--”

He sighs and stands, shrugging off Harry’s hands and heading towards the sinks. His hair is a bit messy, resistant to his efforts to comb through it.

“Nothing anyone can do,” he says. “I can’t hide in the bathroom all night. Do you think Alexis and the others are going to hate me?”

“No,” Harry says. “They might think it’s weird for a little bit, though.”

Michael focuses on his hair again, trying to stop the subtle shake in his hands. He and Ashton can just leave early, photo-ops and the raffle be damned. Michael can work around awkwardness, but if that’s all that this night is going to turn into he’d rather be back home playing video games.

The door opens again. Michael tenses, only to see in the mirror that it’s not some stranger or his boss, but Ashton.

“Hey,” Ashton says. He looks at Harry and nods, then turns back to Michael. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he says, messing with the knobs on the sink. “What’s happening out there?”

Ashton glances at Harry again.

“Do you two need a minute?” he asks. Ashton nods, but Harry waits until Michael does too before he leaves.

“I, uh, had to tell Ashley about what’s going on, but I don’t think anyone else knows. Everything is okay.”

“Really?” Michael asks, turning finally. “How did you talk your way out of that one?”

Ashton shrugs. “I’m good with words. Ashley caught on pretty quickly, too.”

"Did you really date her?" he asks before he can stop himself. Ashton sighs.

"We went on a few dates, yes. Two of them. Well, more like one and a half before we decided we were better suited as friends."

"Oh," Michael says. "Why? She seems nice and fun. She obviously likes music, and she's pretty. You'd think you two would be a good match."

"Well, we aren't," Ashton says.

"Okay," Michael says. Ashton nods once. It feels weird and tense, an unusual dynamic for them that Michael doesn't know how to fix. "Sorry, I guess."

"Don't be," Ashton says. "I never should have started it. It's a good thing it ended where it did."

"Why?"

Ashton sighs, coming over by the sinks to lean against the counter. The bathroom isn't that large, but Michael hadn't realized how far away he felt before he had him within arm's reach.

"I... was just using her, I think. I was hung up on someone else and thought that if I dated her, I'd be able to get over it. That wasn't fair to either of us. She caught on and said we should be friends instead."

Michael's breath catches in his throat. Ashton has been doing his own pining, going so far as to try to date other people to get over this mystery person, and he's been doing all of it without Michael's knowledge.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" he asks, hoping that it doesn't sound hurt. "I didn't even know you liked anyone. I could've tried to help."

Ashton takes a breath, tracing the marble pattern on the countertop with his finger for a long moment, close to where Michael is resting his own fingers. He wants to reach out and tie their hands together, but Ashton looks up at him before he can. There's something heavy in his gaze that makes Michael feel like whatever he says next could break him if neither of them are careful. Still, he leans closer, trying to let Ashton know that he's listening. He's always listening to him.

"The person I was hung up on... or, well, am still hung up on, I suppose, he--"

The door opens again and both of them spring back, breaking their bubble like they're school kids caught skipping class to make out in the bathroom. Michael's cheeks flame, but the man who enters doesn't spare them a glance, headed straight to a stall.

"We should rejoin the party," Ashton says. Michael can't stop the disappointment that fills him, despite knowing that Ashton is right. Besides, public restrooms aren't exactly the most pleasant hangout, not even one fancy enough for an armchair in the corner and little vials of lotion by the sinks.

"Okay," he says. "Everything's good?"

"Everything's good," Ashton replies. Michael nods and squares his shoulders, following Ashton out of the bathroom and back into the bustle of the party. The band is still playing at the front, but Michael drags his feet, pausing and tugging Ashton with him towards the beverages to get another drink of water. Ashley intercepts them on the way over.

"Michael? Hey," she says. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. I obviously had no clue what you two were doing and I didn't mean to throw a wrench in things. I think we covered it pretty well, though. You're secret's still safe."

She winks, charm oozing out of her in a way that partially reminds him of Ashton. Once again, he wonders why they didn't work out. Whoever Ashton likes must be pretty special.

He pushes the thought away. There's no use getting upset over it when he still has to put on a show of being happy for the rest of the night. He has to at least be able to fake it, and that means distracting himself until he can get home and wallow.

"It's okay," he says. "You didn’t know. It's not like you could’ve guessed what was happening."

Ashley laughs. "You're right about that. Still, I support it. You two make a good pair."

Michael glances at Ashton, who looks like he's either trying to psychically communicate with Ashley or gut her. Michael clears his throat, trying not to wonder who Ashton wishes he were a pair with, instead.

"Thanks," he says.

"Well, I need to get back to the band in case they need me. I'm sure I'll see you both sometime later."

"Yeah, later," Michael says.

"See you, Ash," Ashton adds. Ashley smiles and gives them both a small wave with her fingers as she turns. Michael watches her walk away.

“Come on,” he says eventually. “I want some water.”

The band transitions to another slower song, something jazzy featuring the piano and upright bass. Ashton puts a hand near the base of Michael’s spine as they walk, finally getting little plastic cups of water and wandering to an empty space to sip it.

“This isn’t how I expected the evening to go,” Ashton says. Michael snorts.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s not you,” Ashton says. “But I do think we need to raise your spirits a bit. It’s your holiday work party! You’re with friends, enjoying live music and getting to dress up. Come dance with me again.”

“You think very highly of your dancing skills,” Michael says. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re no Fred Astaire.”

“I’m impressed you know who that is,” Ashton says, downing the rest of his water and throwing it in a nearby trash bin. Michael makes an affronted noise that goes ignored. “Regardless of you insulting my dancing, it was making you smile earlier. Come on. You can’t let one false alarm ruin your night. Dance a few songs with me, then we can take ridiculous pictures with their winter backdrop and wait for the raffle before heading back out into the snow.”

“I don’t want you to step on my toes,” Michael says.

“I promise I won’t,” Ashton pleads. “Please?”

Ashton peers at him earnestly, eyes soft. He starts to smile, knowing that Michael is going to cave against his best attempts, and when he takes Michael's hand and starts to walk towards the dance floor, Michael unsticks his feet and follows him.

"You're lucky I like you," Michael says. He tries to sound begrudging, but it probably doesn't work. Ashton can read him too well.

"I am," Ashton says. He stops abruptly, making Michael run into him, and turns. "Seriously. I'm lucky to have you in any way you let me. You're so wonderful, and I'm grateful that I can call you one of my best friends."

Ashton brings their hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Michael's palm, watching his reaction through his lashes. Something indescribable lodges itself in Michael's throat. For a moment, he wonders if he can tell Ashton all of the ways he wants him without messing everything up.

"Come on," Ashton says, breaking the moment. "Let's dance."

Another slow jazzy song is playing when they make their way to the floor, and they join other couples in an embrace. Ashton keeps their hands together but slides a gentle hand around his waist to his lower back, resting heavily there and pulling them closer together. Michael finds a spot for his hand on Ashton's shoulder, but with how close they're standing it's more like a hug than anything else. Ashton starts them in a gentle sway.

"Hey," Ashton murmurs, close enough that Michael feels his breath puff against his cheek. It reminds him of the moment after Ashton kissed his cheek on his couch this afternoon, when Michael thought he might try to kiss him on the lips next.

"Yeah?"

"Harry and Louis are making out in the corner. It's very unfitting for a work function."

"What?" he asks. Ashton turns them so he can see, and sure enough his eyes find Harry's floral suit near the edge of the room, the man himself locking lips with his husband.

"Huh," he says. "I hope our manager sees them and says something about it. You'd think after being married for a few years they'd have calmed down."

"It's kind of cute," Ashton says. "It's nice that they're still that in love with each other."

"I guess," Michael says. "I don't know. I don't think I'd want to be that gushy with someone, you know? I don't need to always be touching or making out to know that we like each other, hopefully. I don't know if I'd enjoy that, especially somewhere as public as this."

"What would you enjoy, then?" Ashton asks. Michael shrugs.

"What we're doing here, I think. It's nice, but not suffocating. We're enjoying each other's company and all, but what would be the point of even going out if we were going to be hanging off each other the entire time? We could just do that at home."

"I thought you'd be a bit more cuddly."

Michael will be the first to admit that he loves a lot of physical contact, and back in college he probably would have said he wanted it all the time. He would love to show off his partner and relationship as much as possible. Now, though, it's a bit different. Ashton doesn't hang off people as much as the rest of them do, but that's okay. Michael has learned to read him over the years, and there's something to be said about subtle glances and soft words kept between just the two of them, tucked close to Michael's heart, things Michael has stopped mentioning in his lovesick laments to Calum and Luke. Some things are made more special when they're only shared between two people.

"In private, yes. Of course I'd want to be as close as possible to you. But I don't really want everyone else seeing that, I guess. I want some things to be just for us."

"I understand. I like that better, too." Ashton clears his throat. "Theoretically."

"Theoretically," Michael says, thankful that his face is partially hidden from the angle that they're dancing.

That's the type of relationship he would want with Ashton. It's been too long since he thought about what he would want in a relationship with anyone else. It could be different, but it certainly wouldn't be better.

"I hope you get that," Ashton says suddenly. "I know we're pretending now because you didn't want to tell your coworkers that you don't have anyone, but I hope you find someone soon. I want you to be happy."

"You too," Michael says. It’s not a lie, even if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's not going to get a happy relationship until he gets over Ashton, and he's already spent so many years liking him that he doesn't know how to stop.

Ashton hums. Michael thinks he might understand, given his own secret pining that he's been doing. He wants to ask again why Ashton didn't tell him. He doesn't know if he's ready for the answer.

The song ends, transitioning to another upbeat number that has younger people jumping and older people shuffling along together. Ashton suddenly swings Michael out in another twirl, and then they're back to swing dancing, two steps and a ball-change keeping them on beat.

"Warn a guy next time," he says when he comes back to him.

"Spin incoming," Ashton says, sending him right back into another twirl. Michael laughs through it, and Ashton's responding smile is the best thing Michael has seen all night.

-/-

Michael ends up dancing with Ashton for the rest of the night, losing track of fast songs and slow ones with intermittent breaks to bother his friends and catch a breath until the band announces that it'll be their last one of the evening. It feels strange that Michael has spent so much time stressing over this night only for it to be nearly over. When the song finishes, Ashton dips him like they’re in a movie. Looking at him framed by the overhead lights, Michael can almost believe he has a halo.

They make their way back to the table they started at for the raffle, Michael sitting and Ashton making a detour to get water. Everyone in attendance got their name put in as part of the RVSP, but Michael doesn't even know half of the prizes. In reality, he's ready to stare at Ashton and trace individual strands of hair through his curls with his eyes rather than listen, memorizing every detail he can.

"Hey," Alexis says when he sits down. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"I was," he says. "Dancing is more fun than I thought, but don't tell Harry I said that."

“I already know,” Harry says. “You and Ashton should join us when we go dancing.”

Michael gives him his most sarcastic smile. Alexis studies his face, eyes looking for any signs of deceit in a way that makes him sit up straighter.

"Does he treat you well?" she asks. "Things were really weird once that Ashley girl showed up."

"He does," he says. "I promise."

Alexis continues her scrutiny, but she must be satisfied with her findings, because she nods.

"Good," she says. "I like him, but I like you more."

"Thanks," he says.

"What about me?" Harry asks. Alexis flips him off, and things at the table are back to normal by the time Ashton returns with two cups of water, one that he hands to Michael. The president taps the microphone again before Michael can properly thank him, so he elects for squeezing his hand and hopes it suffices. From Ashton's smile, it does.

The first few raffles are for various baskets following themes like movies, a taste of Italy, and art. Michael zones out as people he doesn't recognize get their names called (and sometimes butchered), thoughts wandering to his expectations of the night and what actually happened.

He and Ashton never got their picture taken with the backdrop. It's not the end of the world, but Michael wishes they had thought to do that. It may be fake, but it'd be the only couple's photo of them that Michael may get, and he'd like to remember some things about the night, like the feeling of dancing in Ashton’s arms and how radiant he looks.

For all of the fuss about PDA and mistletoe, they didn't have to contend with any of that, either. Michael's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

"Ashton Irwin!" the president calls. Michael startles as the rest of their table erupts in cheers.

“Huh,” Ashton says, standing. “I didn’t know I was included in this.”

“Go get your prize,” Harry says, shooing him forward. Michael watches him make his way to the front and come back with a basket.

“You can probably have half of this,” Ashton whispers to him, showing the basket. There are two mugs in it, but there’s also a lot of coffee, and Ashton doesn’t care about how fancy his caffeine is. He takes it black the majority of the time and uses it more as a tool to wake up than an enjoyable beverage. They ignore the rest of the raffles in favor of pawing through the basket, taking out items to pass around the table when the others ask about them. There’s some fancy hot cocoa mix that makes Ashton’s eyes light up, but the majority of it is coffee that Michael has to resist the urge to open up and smell. Knowing him, he’d make a mess.

Michael is so focused on the coffee that he barely registers the end of the party, the president’s words going in one ear and out the other until everyone starts standing and shuffling towards the door around him.

“Hey,” Alexis says. “You can’t leave until we take a picture. Dalmar wants one of the whole department.”

“I want one of us,” Harry says. They wait a minute to let some of the crowd clear out, then Michael is swept up in the tide heading towards the photo backdrop. There’s cotton on the ground to give the impression of snow, and one side has pine trees decked in gold and a starry landscape behind while the other has silver accents and a sparkly wire reindeer.

“Very thoughtful of them to coordinate a gold and a silver option, I assume so everyone can choose the backdrop that best matches their outfit,” Ashton says, voice low. Michael snickers.

Ashton joins the other plus-ones off to the side while Michael is corralled into a department picture, sandwiched between Alexis and Imani. Once Dalmar promises to email it out, Harry makes him stay for a picture with him and Alexis, then another one that includes their dates.

“Do you want one with just you two?” Harry asks him after. Michael glances at Ashton, then nods, handing his phone over. He hasn’t checked it all night, and there are a few messages from both Calum and Luke that he’ll probably ignore until morning.

Ashton puts an arm around his waist for probably the last time tonight and decides to use the privilege for evil, jabbing him in the side and making him squirm and involuntarily laugh.

“I hate you,” he says.

“No you don’t,” Ashton responds cheekily. Michael turns back to where Harry already has the camera up.

“Say cheese,” he says. Michael smiles. Harry gets a few shots in before Ashton presses a kiss to his cheek. Michael hopes he doesn’t look too startled before he starts smiling again, letting himself relish in the moment.

“Got any good ones?” Ashton asks once he pulls away.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry says.

“Ashton,” Ashley calls, appearing in the crowd and waving him over. He glances back at Michael.

“One moment,” he says, then heads towards her.

“So,” Harry says casually, handing over Michael’s phone. “There’s really nothing going on with you two?”

Michael lets his gaze land on Ashton, locked in what looks to be a serious conversation with Ashley. She gestures and he makes a face that she returns, but he can’t tell what they’re discussing.

“No, not on his end. He has someone else he’s after.”

“Someone who isn’t you?”

Michael shrugs. “He didn’t say. There’s no way, though. I think I’ve used up all my luck for the night. Karma says nothing else good can happen now that the lie worked.”

“It’s Christmastime, Michael,” Harry says. “Maybe you’ll get a miracle.”

Ashton hugs Ashley. She says something into his ear and he nods. Michael sighs and forces himself to turn back to Harry, who is still looking at him with his head tilted like a puppy.

“He cares about you a lot; it's been obvious to all of us here tonight. Don't discount that just because you're scared. Maybe it's time to tell him," Harry says.

"I've been doing this for years," Michael reminds him. "It's never time."

"Hey," Ashton says, reappearing. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Michael says. "See you later, Harry. Tell Alexis I say goodbye, too."

"Good luck, Michael. Remember, Christmas miracles!"

Michael gives him a tight smile and starts towards the coat check. They killed enough time with the pictures that they don't have to wait in line too long before they're bundled up and ready to leave.

"What did Harry mean about Christmas miracles?" Ashton asks, putting on his gloves.

"Nothing," Michael says. "He's just being optimistic. What did Ashley want to say to you?"

"Oh, you know," Ashton says. "Just that it was good to see each other and finally meet you."

"Meet me?" Michael asks. "She didn't even talk to me. Why would she want to meet me, anyway? I'm just an auditor."

"You're not just anything. Besides, I've probably talked about you a lot. Come on. Time to brave the cold."

Michael frowns at the abrupt change, but Ashton is already heading towards the entrance, so he scrambles to catch up.

A gust of wind greets then outside, thick snow swirling in the air around them. Michael braces himself against it, huddling down in his coat and shoving his hands in his pockets. Ashton leans close, flexing his fingers where he's gripping the handle of the basket, and they shuffle down the sidewalk as one. Once Michael gets to the car, he immediately turns on the defroster and heat, hating the first few minutes of cold air until the car warms up properly. Ashton grabs the scraper from the back before Michael can, brushing snow off the front windshield and scraping away the frost that had gathered in the time they were at the party. When he gets to the driver-side window, he makes funny faces at Michael while clearing it off. It warms him more than the heater does.

"Thanks," Michael says once he's done. "I hate scraping.”

"I know," Ashton says, brushing snow off of his coat where it had gathered on his shoulders. "Hey, I got a gift card in my basket. Let's swing by before you drop me off."

"It's a little late for coffee," Michael says.

"This place is open until midnight, and they have great hot chocolate. Come on. You got me a free meal tonight, so let me give you a free late-night cocoa."

"Fine," Michael says, as if he wasn't going to cave as soon as Ashton suggested it, as if he himself wouldn't mind prolonging their time together if it's just the two of them. "Put the address in. The roads aren't that bad yet."

-/-

The coffee shop is a small place on a corner, one of the only shops still lit up at 9:30 at night. Snow has gathered on the window ledges and the corners are blocked by frost, but warm light and swashes of browns and yellows still spill out, giving the entire building an inviting atmosphere. Ashton holds the door for him on the way in, the bell above the door tinkling a greeting with the welcome rush of heated air.

The inside is just as cozy as Michael's first impressions suggested. A few mismatched tables are scattered around the room with wooden chairs tucked against them, but it's the armchairs near the back that make him smile, big padded things arranged around a crackling fireplace that would probably swallow him if he sat down in them. A bookshelf sits off to the side, old paperbacks and worn hardcovers nestled amongst other trinkets on warped wooden shelves, sinking under the weight of the years. A Christmas tree stands in the corner, what looks like homemade ornaments adoring it and a few boxes in shiny wrapping paper underneath. Calm Christmas music plays faintly over the speakers, and a barista calls out from where she is wiping down a table that she'll be with them in a moment.

"I've never been here before," Michael says.

"If you lived with me instead of out in a suburb, you would've by now," Ashton says, brushing snow off of Michael’s shoulder. "It's one of my favorite places to go once winter hits. I don't care for coffee, but I love everything else about the place. It's a great source of inspiration and relaxation."

"Of course it is," Michael says fondly. "Every place is a source of inspiration for you. You probably found inspiration at my work party."

"Maybe that was more about the company than the location," Ashton says.

"I guess there were a lot of interesting people there, like Ashley. You can probably get some material from Harry and Louis, too."

Ashton stares at him for a long moment.

"Are you being deliberately obtuse as a way to let me down? Or do you really not know yet?"

"Hi, what can I get you?" the barista asks. Michael is getting really sick of people interrupting Ashton when he's about to tell him something.

Ashton orders two small hot chocolates, one with whip and one without, then leads Michael to a table in the back corner. It's an odd choice when they have the entire shop to themselves, but Michael doesn't fight it. He's too distracted by the tantalizing smell of the hot cocoa and the mountain of whip on top of it, so much so that he burns his tongue on the first sip.

"Careful," Ashton laughs. He reaches forward and swipes the whip right off Michael's nose, popping it into his mouth. Michael's brain shuts down and takes its sweet time restarting, staring at Ashton gently blow on his own cocoa and take a much more cautious sip.

"So," Ashton says. "I had an alternative motive for getting you to come here tonight."

"Is this payback for making you come to the party with me? Are you going to ask me for a favor?"

"Not a favor," Ashton says. "Well, I suppose you could come to the studio's New Years Eve party with me, if you wanted."

"I was already planning on going," Michael says. I've been there every year since you opened. I wasn't going to miss it now."

"See, this is what I was talking about with you being deliberately obtuse," Ashton says. "Do you want to go with me? As my date?"

Michael frowns.

“Did you tell everyone you have a secret boyfriend?”

Ashton sighs and cradles his head in his hands. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you.”

“Say what?” Michael implores. “Is it too much for you to stop being so cryptic and just tell me what you want me to understand?”

“Michael, I really, really like you. Romantically. I have for a long time. I want to know if you’ll go on a date with me.”

“What the fuck?” Michael asks. Ashton’s face crumples. “No, not like--how long? Because I’ve been in love with you since college!”

“What?” Ashton blinks. “I thought… I mean, I’d hoped, and there were moments, but I didn’t realize it had been that long for you.” He smiles, letting it grow on his face until it’s overwhelming. Michael mirrors it. “Holy shit. This is great!”

Michael laughs.

“Do you really like me?”

“Yes, Michael. Of course I do. I knew I eventually would as soon as I met you, I just put it off for as long as I could. You’re magnetic. It was inevitable.”

Michael doesn’t know what to do with the joy bubbling up in him, threatening to overflow like a volcano with all of the heat of one.

“So, Michael Clifford, want to be my date to the Superbloom New Year’s party? And my boyfriend? My real one, in case that somehow wasn’t clear by now.”

“Yes! Please, yes, I would love to,” Michael says.

“Good,” Ashton says. “But I do have one more confession to make. I still haven’t told you why I wanted to come here right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look up,” Ashton says, pointing above their heads. Michael follows his directions and is met with a small sprig of green leaves with tiny white flowers hanging from the ceiling. “We never did get a mistletoe kiss, which was extremely disappointing to me. Will you indulge me now?”

Michael turns back to him, seeing hope shining in his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly if the way Ashton giggles at him is any indication.

“Alright,” Ashton says, standing. “Come on. I’m not about to make you lean over the table.”

He takes Michael’s hands, tugging him to standing.

“I’m weirdly nervous,” Michael confesses once they’re face to face.

“Don’t be,” Ashton says, taking a step forward. “If it’s bad, we’ll just try again. I have the feeling I’ll be kissing you a lot in the future.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes.

“Ready?” Ashton asks, eyes flicking down to Michael’s lips and then back up. Instead of answering, Michael leans in, Ashton meeting him halfway in the best kiss Michael has ever had. In the grand scheme of things, it’s utterly unremarkable, but to Michael it’s everything: the feeling of his cold hands enveloped by Ashton’s, the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop they’re in, the taste of hot chocolate still on Ashton’s lips, and the satisfaction of finally, after years, knowing what this sensation is like all melts together to form something that feels like complete and utter happiness.

Ashton drops their hands so he can cup Michael’s jaw and kisses him again, and then again, and then they stand there smiling at each other until Michael finally starts giggling.

“Our hot chocolate is probably getting cold,” he says.

“God, I love you,” Ashton replies. Michael knows that he’s blushing, but for once it’s not out of embarrassment or the cold outside. He’s never felt this level of joyful peace.

Ashton kisses him once more, quickly, before he finally goes back to his seat. Michael joins him, taking a sip of his drink. He can’t help but think that Ashton’s homemade cocoa is better.

The man in question reaches out and takes one of his hands, holding it across the table and beaming, showing off his dimples, and Michael once again can’t resist smiling back.

Maybe Harry is right. Karma stands no chance against a Christmas miracle.

#my writing #mashton #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020

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