#and in the end she realizes that as she sees how mike is happily married (?) with a baby coming

[chucklepea-hotpot]

Susan's what if scene in s6e11 makes so absolutely sick, nauseous and angry.

[mind-reader1]

All of Me (Jake x MC)

This is for @princesstopgunswife 

A/N: The Jake and MC reunion that everyone wanted. 

Find a link to my masterlist here

Warnings: angsty, fluffly. 

Word Count: 2,743

Five years, none of them could believe it had been that long since they’d all been together in one place, since they’d all left the island...well almost all of them. 

Everyone had mourned the loss of their friend, the person who brought them all together and of course the one who saved them all. Despite mourning her, they still moved forward with their lives, graduated college, got jobs, reconnected. Grace and Aleister got married, Sean and Michelle decided to give it another chance. Even Estela worked to move on, accepting that she could have a life without vengeance. That wasn’t the be all and end all of her existence. 

Then there was Jake. He’d lost Mike, he’d lost his wife all in the course of 24 hours. Lundgren was dead, eliminating all his hopes of clearing his name; of going back to the states to see his family again. He stayed in Costa Rica after flying the newfound group of friends off La Huerta. The first few months he would drink himself into a stupor every night, replaying her voicemail until he fell asleep, desperate to hear her voice again. 

They had all come to visit him at one point or another, worried about him and how he was coping. Especially Diego, he’d lost Varyyn, he understood Jake’s grief. Diego tried to convince Jake that Taylor would’ve wanted him to find happiness with someone else, but Jake never did, he couldn’t do that to her. Even if they didn’t get to spend their year and one day together, they’d had thousands of lives together on La Huerta and they would always be connected. No one would ever fill that hole in his heart and he didn’t want anyone too. Diego didn’t push, he felt the same way about Varyyn, connected forever. 

The five year reunion was upon them now though, Jake leaned against Deliah trying to play it cool, but he was nervous to return to the island, unsure of what to expect. He’d thought so often about going back there himself, about trying to find any trace of her but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. 

“How does he get to look the same after all these years baking in the sun when he doesn’t even use moisturizer!” Jake cracked a smile, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

“I think it’s the rum Maybelline, you should try it.” Michelle rolled her eyes. 

“Good to see you Jake.” 

“Cap.” Sean came up and dropped Michelle’s bags before clapping Jake on the back. 

“Caught your last game. Talk about a hail mary, guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks though.” 

“Chyeah! Only because I made it possible for him.” “Drax.” Sean and Craig had gone pro and been drafted together, the dynamic duo of the NFL. 

“Don’t you nerds have anything to talk about besides football?” 

“Skrillex. Hack any foreign governments recently?”  Zahra smirked. 

“Whenever you want that record cleared, you better have my money.” Jake smiled, Zahra had offered to hack the government and clear his record so he could return home to his family. He felt like he would only be a burden though, were Taylor still with him, things may have been different.

 “...the laws of quantum physics clearly state-“ 

“Malfoy, brain trust! Heard y’all got married. Congratulations!” Grace beamed at Jake and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you Jake!” Grace swiftly hit Aleister on the arm. 

“Yes, thank you Jacob.” 

“Let’s see, still missing Petey, Ariel, Julio Child and Katniss.”

 “I’m right here.” Jake jumped and turned to see Estela staring at him, Diego walking up behind her. 

“Dammit! You don’t need to sneak up on me like that.” Diego chuckled as Estela smirked and climbed onto the plane. 

“What are you laughing at Petey?” Diego innocently held up his hands and boarded the plane.

 He heard the laughter of the last two before he saw them, Raj was licking something off his fingertips, no doubt something that had come from the container Quinn was carrying. 

“Jake, dude, you have to try one of these cupcakes.” Raj happily rubbed his belly. 

“I’m sure they’re great Ariel, but I don’t want to get frosting all over the cockpit. Save one for me once we land?”

 “Of course!” Quinn also wrapped him in a big hug and kissed his cheek before boarding the plane. 

“All right. Well we’ve got the whole Brady Bunch now….so let’s do this.” 

The plane was eerily silent as they flew over the water, their minds inevitably drifting back to the first plane ride they’d taken together. Diego made his way up to the cockpit and took a seat, Jake was rigid at the controls, a death grip on yoke. 

“Jake...how are you?” Jake didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, his body trembling softly with adrenaline. 

“I’m fine Petey. It’s an island. Been here probably a hundred times.” 

“Jake, you know what I mean.” He hated being vulnerable, sharing his feelings, anyone he opened up to he inevitably lost. Diego was the closest connection he had to Taylor these days, he was the sole reason Taylor had even existed. 

Talk to him Jake. He could hear her voice in his mind, encouraging him to keep making those connections.

“I miss her Diego. So damn much. I thought I could do this with you all but I’m not sure.” It was the first time Jake had ever called Diego by name. 

“I miss her too. I think this will be good for us Jake, maybe we can leave the ghosts behind.” 

“I don’t want to forget, I never want to forget.” 

“You never could, I’m just saying...maybe it’s time to leave behind the guilt that keeps haunting us.” He had a point, Jake felt guilty still, like he hadn’t done everything he could’ve to make her stay. Deep down he knew that was wrong though, he knew it was her decision and she was a selfless person. She chose the world over herself, so that he could have a life to go back to, maybe it was time to stop feeling guilty about living that life. 

“Thanks Petey. Now get back to your seat so I can land.” Diego smiled softly and returned to his seat as Jake made a smooth landing on La Huerta.

 Since Rourke’s arrest, Aleister had taken over the Celestial resort. When the world had returned to normal, so had all the guests and the island had continued to operate as if nothing happened. For this weekend though, Aleister closed the entire resort to outside guests and staff. It would be the eleven of them alone. 

They all collected their room keys, staying in the same rooms they’d had before, except for Jake. He stared for ages at the honeymoon suite key, it was the room where they’d spent their first night together, something he would never forget. He wasn’t sure he could face it again though. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and swiped the key, riding the elevator up to the room, it seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace.

He entered the room and sucked in a breath, flooded with memories of that night. 

Hey you. 

Hey. 

Jake wandered over to the large pane windows overlooking the island. He remembered every moment of that night, this is where they’d kissed each other, he’d pushed her back up against the glass, desperate to feel her body pressed against his for the first time, what he wouldn’t give to feel that just one more time. 

“I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you.” He whispered in longing. 

Then have me. She had said that back to him their first night together and that was the beginning of the end for him. He was hooked. They’d thrashed that room and didn’t give a damn, it was strange to see it put back together. He opened the window to get some fresh air but he could swear he smelled her perfume drifting to his nose over the ocean breeze.

 He slammed the window shut and laid down on the bed still in his clothes, staring at the canopy. The bed felt cold and foreign to him, he tried turning on his sides but he couldn’t fall asleep, every time he closed his eyes he would see her beside him in bed only to reach over and find it empty. He slipped out of the room and went down to the beach, snagging a hotel towel on his way out. Maybe a night out under the stars with the ocean waves could help him clear his mind. 

\\

Vaanu had been made whole again and should have felt at peace, but there always seemed to be something keeping it from its eternal rest. Just a sliver that felt like it was missing, the feeling only grew the closer the 5 year anniversary of becoming whole came. 

Why do I feel as though I am still broken? Vaanu bellowed in despair. Desperately searching for the beacon from its missing shard, it followed it to a well known place, La Huerta. Vaanu summoned the physical manifestation of Taylor that had been created by one of the shards, it could sense that she was the part of itself that was still missing a piece.

 “Where am I?” 

Why am I still broken? Memories came flooding back to Taylor like a tsunami, saying goodbye to Jake and the others, then it was all black until waking up here. She could hear its voice in her mind and feel exactly what it was talking about, she felt a sense of emptiness. It took her only a moment to realize why. 

“Jake.” That feeling of emptiness only grew, she longed to see him again, to hear his voice. She could feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, lighting it on fire with pleasure, a feeling only he could give her. Something she couldn’t live without. 

Jake?

“Jake and I fell in love over 1,000 times in different timelines. I promised him a year and a day, a part of my soul will forever be with him.” Taylor wondered how long it had been, wondered if he moved on, if she still felt this broken though she knew he hadn’t and that somehow hurt her more.

 Broken. 

“Let me be with Jake. If we’re together then the shard is together, you’ll be whole again.” She didn’t know how, but she could tell Vaanu was thinking. “Please, you know you won’t feel whole until he dies and that will be years. Years you could have spent being whole again if you just let me go to him.” She pleaded, desperate. 

There was a bright flash and when Taylor opened her eyes she was on the familiar beach of La Huerta, there was a towel on the beach, void of an occupant. She needed to get her bearings, find a way to get in touch with Jake. She was back! 

\\

Jake had been unsuccessful trying to sleep on the beach as well, he’d turned to his last resort, alcohol. He’d found some rum but what he really wanted was the good stuff, some strong whiskey that would knock him right out. 

Someone poked him in the shoulder and he turned to see who it was, it was Taylor, smiling at him in her blue tank top and khaki pants. He must’ve been hallucinating another memory again. 

“Help ya with something Princess?” He turned away, his focus back on liquor, he didn’t notice her frown. She thought he’d be more excited to see her, like she was him. Maybe she’d been mistaken, maybe he had moved on. 

“Just seeing what you’re up to.” She said deflated. 

“Trying to see if we got any good whiskey left so I can stop reliving all these damn memories. Like this one of you asking me to come to your room. You?” 

“Jake...this isn’t a memory.” 

“Must be dreamin’ then. Guess I did find the good whiskey.” 

“Jake look at me! I’m actually here!”

“You say that in all my dreams and then I wake up Princess.” He whispered heavily, sounding emotionally tired, it would go away if he’d just listen to her! She hit him in the arm and scowled at him until he looked at her. 

“Ow!” 

“Jake, please. It’s really me.” He shook his head, she could see the pain in his eyes. 

“No. You went with Vaanu and that was it. My wife is dead!” He was fighting back tears. 

“Jake, what do I have to do to prove to you I’m real, that I’m here?” He turned and grabbed both sides of her face, their lips meeting in a fiery kiss with years of longing poured into it. Taylor melted against Jake and he pulled away, breathing heavily his eyes still closed. 

“If I open my eyes, are you still gonna be here Taylor?” 

“Yes, Jake. Now please, open your eyes and look at me.” She whispered, cupping his cheek. Her touch felt so real, Jake didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to stay in this moment for just a little longer.

“I can’t Princess. I can’t.” Stubborn ass, she thought to herself. 

“Come with me.” She had one last idea up her sleeve to convince him, dragging him to the elevator, she kept their hands laced together as she pulled him to their room. 

“I’ve got to give myself credit, this is my most elaborate hallucination yet.” 

“Jacob Lucas McKenzie. I am right here, right now, with you. Your wife. Your naked wife. So help me god if you don’t open your eyes to look at me I will go back to Vaanu.” Taylor had in fact stripped down to her red lacy bra and underwear set, she knew it was Jake’s favorite and if this didn’t convince him, nothing would. “Dammit Princess.” Jake opened his eyes and stared. There she was. Still there. In front of him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He rubbed them and blinked a few times but she was always still there. He was overcome with emotion. He didn’t know if he should cry, kiss her or give into the desire coursing through him. 

“I have never wanted anything as badly as I want you right now.” 

“Then have me.” 

They came together and years of pent up energy came pouring out. Sure they’d wrecked the room the first time, but this was 5 years of pent up sexual energy between newly-wed soulmates, it was a whole new level of destruction before they finally made it to the bed. 

As they laid there after, Jake couldn’t stop staring at her, tracing every line of her body. 

“I missed you so much Taylor.” He whispered. 

“How long was I gone Jake?” 

“5 years.” Her heart sank, imagining him alone for 5 years, they could’ve had kids by now. 

“I’m sorry Jake, I’m so sorry. I'm never going to leave you again.” He pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers, their noses gently brushing. 

“I wouldn’t survive it if you did Princess. I don’t understand though, how are you back? I would’ve sold my soul if it meant getting you back but I didn’t think it was possible..” 

“It’s because of you Jake.” His eyes shot open in confusion. “When we got handfasted, after spending all those timelines together and falling in love every time, a part of me is literally in your heart Jake.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“Vaanu wanted me to return so it could be whole, but we’re soulmates Jake. A little shard broke off and resides in you. When we’re together, we’re whole, because we’re whole, so is Vaanu.” 

“So you really are back for good? You’re staying forever?” 

“Forever top gun.” Tears of joy began to stream down Jake’s face and Taylor wiped them away as Jake wiped hers. 

“Good, because it’s going to take a long time to catch up on those five years of married life we missed.” Taylor let out a soft laugh. 

“I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to leave this bed until morning. Now, tell me everything.” Jake laid on his back and Taylor rested her head on his chest, looking up at him as he told her about everything she’d missed. 

Finally, I am whole again. 

@drakesroyalromance​

[itsonlystrange]

So, after reading @hawkinsschoolcounselor latest post, I went into the comments and, boy- they were, well. They were not great. I mean I guess I laid this onto myself but, anyways, I’m going to be answering this comment right here:

This is ALL for fun! It’s all a bunch of light hearted love, but this comment REALLY ticked me the wrong way.

For starters: There’s always been this trope in media of “one is enough.” Or “we have enough representation!” And it’s VERY prevelant in tv shows. The theory that “oh! There’s already one gay character, that’s enough for you, right?” Is sh!tty. It’s horrible.

Think of it this way: if there are 200 white sheep in a room, and then the shepherd brings in one black sheep, do you think that would suffice the other black sheep from the other herds? Do you think that would ‘hold them over’? I mean imagine being a black sheep in a crowd of 200 other white sheep, you’d feel alone. Okay, so now pretend there is a tv show, and this black sheep is watching that tv show, and of course, all the actors in the tv show are WHITE SHEEP. So then, in season 3 of Sheeper Things, they FINALLY introduce a black sheep, and of course the black sheep is happy, but still, they can’t help but realize that all of the white sheep are still there and overcome that small black sheep by a LOT!

I’m assuming that comment was made by someone straight, as they clearly don’t grip representation. Also, I’m assuming that person is slightly homophobic, just by the way they phrased it. It seems odd, I mean, what’s the issue with having one more gay character?

Well apparently, in their minds, Will being able to overcome his childhood is much more effective then Will being gay- so.

Let me lay it out for you:

Surprise! You can be gay AND want to hold onto your childhood! And, there are already so many other characters that could have a lovely arc of learning to accept themselves and learning to be their true selves away from societies norms *cough* mike *cough* Lucas *cough* but of course, they want to make WILL the one who gets this arc because if Will was gay that means he has a better chance of getting with Mike! (This was under a Mileven video btw) so they want him to be canonically straight so there is no chance Mike and Will can be endgame!

Now second: 90% of the comments under this video are people saying they think he’s asexual.

1. You can be gay AND asexual

2. Asexuality is the feeling of not being sexually attracted to anyone. YOU CAN BE ROMANTICALLY ATTRACTED TO PEOPLE IF YOURE ASEXUAL.

3. Will is fourteen! And if we’re using the logic of “oh he hasn’t wanted to kiss anyone so he’s asexual!” Then shouldn’t Dustin be asexual too?-

4. WILL IS FOURTEEN! Just because he doesn’t want to get down and dirty at that (very young age!) DOESNT mean that he doesn’t like sexual attraction at all. It’s kind of insane how people are seriously making these assumptions over a 14 year old child, some people like to wait, and that’s fine!

5. If the people in the comments meant aromantic, there really isn’t anything in the show that proves that he doesn’t like anyone, period. I think partially it’s heteronormativity and people not wanting to see the fact that Will clearly has a crush on mike, or had one in the past. The script even went as far as saying “But his eyes aren’t on the cute girl, they’re on - - Mike.”

Why do you think the script would put that in if there wasn’t something there, unrequited or not? Personally, I think that a lot of people don’t want to accept the fact that Will could have a crush on Mike as that would destruct their heteronormative bubble. They don’t want the main boy in the show to be gay because it disrupts the balance in their life. And it makes the chances of mike and Will ending up together being strong.

6. Saying “you have one gay character, that’s enough representation!” Is BULL. SH!T. There will NEVER be enough representation in the media for the lgbtq+ community. Ever. Even when we keep trying, there will always be something. Whether the show being cancelled or the one gay character dying, representation in the media for minorities are slim, but ESPECIALLY for the lgbtq+ community.

We are all VERY proud of Maya and Robin. We love Robin, but that doesn’t mean the Duffers just get to sit back and be like “oh, we already have one gay character, we don’t need more.” Like, what? That’s not how this works. Representation doesn’t just get to stop after the heterosexuals deem us to have “enough gay characters” or “if you add too many gay characters it’d get unrealistic” no. We’ve (me being a bisexual) have went through YEARS AND YEARS of ZERO representation. ZERO. While the hets always got their happily ever after love story, we WAITED.

We love Robin, but that doesn’t mean they can just halt Will’s arc since season one because you deem the representation to be enough.

This isn’t apples and oranges. Will can be gay AND not want to grow up. It isn’t always just black and white.

Maybe it’s the people who refuse to see the way Will looks at Mike, and just takes that as “2 bros looking at bros”, but there is very clearly something under the surface there.

since season ONE they have built Will up to be gay. Since the first episode.

Put it this way. Joyce used the term “f*g” in episode one. Why do you think they would use a slur like that If it weren’t going to go somewhere. What was the point of using a slur to describe Will in season one, or to Troy and James literally tormenting the Party for Will being gay almost all of season one. What was the point of that if that wasn’t going to go anywhere?

I can GUARANTEE that If Mike promised El that he’d go crazy together with HER instead of Will, the milevens would eat that up and call it “romantic!” However, because it’s just two boys, it’s totally platonic, right? It’s totally just two bros being bros.

If Mike held el’s hand like that and said “we won’t let him.” To el instead of Will, milevens would EAT THAT UP. They’d say that was the most romantic sh!t in the show.

If Mike told El that meeting her was the best thing he’d ever done, MILEVENS WOULD EAT THAT UP. They’d call it the most romantic thing of the century. It’d be on ever fan accounts Instagram pages. It’d be in all of the bios. But of course, because it’s two boys, it HAS to be platonic.

A lot of times milevens excuses for things are “well mike said he loved her so it’s end game”

Stancy, anyone?

Or Mike said “you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

In the most DRY way possible. If Mike said that to Will in that way, EVEN I WOULDNT BELIEVE HE WAS TELLING THE TRUTH.

I mean the way Mike said that line clearly shows that el isn’t the most important thing in the world to him. There’s something underlying there. Like I said, that line was DRY. There was no emotion behind it. He was just saying that to get El to shut up, to get El to forgive him, so they could move on.

If Mike had said “you’re the most important thing in the world to me” to WILL like that instead of El, I wouldn’t have believed it either. And I bet that If that was the case the milevens would say “Mike doesn’t really love Will! That line was so dry!” But because it’s El and Mike, they say that’s the cutest thing since sliced bread.

Again, I have zero issues with Milevens, it’s only the toxic ones like the comment above that get to me.

Will has been set up to be gay from DAY ONE. The duffers have studied film for YEARS. Do you seriously think they’d let these all be coincidences? Do you seriously think that after writing season two NOBODY said, “hey, that’s a little gay.”

One scene is fine. If we only had gotten crazy together, yeah, I don’t think I would have thought it to be canon. But it’s the fact that they wrote in OVER 10 QUEER CODED ROMANTIC SCENES BETWEEN MIKE IN WILL, JUST IN SEASON TWO.

You can’t make that up! That cannot be an accident!

They’ve said over and over that everything they do, every song they play, every outfit the characters wear, is intentional. It’s all there for a reason.

Finn and Noah had to read these scripts, rehearse them, and then spent hours filming them. Do you seriously think it wouldn’t have cross their minds that “Hey! That’s a little weird Mr Duffer.”

That’s mostly because Finn and Noah probably already know where the show is headed.

If your only source of Mileven evidence is that Millie has said that they should get married and that they kissed in the end, then, I have some news to break.

Obviously, if anything were to happen in season 4 with Mileven not being end game, Millie couldn’t just say that. Finn couldn’t just say that. It’s their jobs to keep the fans intrigued and on their toes.

David knew he wasn’t really dead but he still had to pretend in interview after interview that Hopper was indeed dead. And he played it off pretty well.

Millie knew El wasn’t really dead after the season one finale yet she still had to play it off like El was.

So obviously, they can’t just outright say “Mileven isn’t end game!”

I mean,,, I’m sure they’d get fired for it.

So, we really shouldn’t pay attention to what the cast says in interviews, and we shouldn’t take that as canon, either. Their job is to subvert our expectations for the show, and they’re doing it well.

TL;DR:

Will can be gay and also have an arc where he doesn’t want to grow up and where he can learn to be his authentic self. The interviews the ST cast do should not be taken as canon as their jobs as actors are to keep us on our toes and subvert our expectations. Byler has a lot of proof and has a large chance of being canon, and most milevens don’t want to believe Will is gay because that means Will would have a larger chance of getting with Mike. The lgbtq+ community still need representation regardless of Robin and just because we got one lesbian does not mean the duffers can sit back and go back to their only heterosexual couples and ideas.

Byler is end game :)

@kaypeace21 @strangertheory @stranger-analysis @willthecleric (opinions?)

[doodle--writes]

Little Peculiarities- Adult Stan Uris X Reader

Word Count: 1244

Warnings: Self Harm (the bath)

Request: Can I request one where reader is a actress and married to Stan and they have kids and the losers finally meet the kids and laugh because the children the daughter in particular acts so much like Stan.

Author's Note: I added a little fun surprise at the end. Hope you enjoy and sorry for the wait!

_____

The past year had been hellish to put it lightly. You had found your husband with a razor blade pressed to his skin about ten months before.

Neither of you moved for a moment, just stood there wondering how you got to this situation. Stan felt an overwhelming sense of shame and fear that seemed to rise from the pit of his gut to his throat as he dropped the blade.

Your mind raced with questions. Have I been away from home too much? Have I stressed him? Have I failed him somehow? You carefully walked over before kneeling next to the bathtub. Without a word you brought Stan to your chest and he sobbed.

As he sobbed he told you things about his past. He told you about all of the little scars on his face and how they got there. He told you about the painting in his father's office. He told you about Big Bill and the others. He told you everything. And you believed him.

Which made your mind jump to another point- your daughter. If what Stan said was true- which you had no doubt it was- your daughter was in danger.

You and Stan talked it over that night and he decided he would go to Derry. So that night you and your daughter Robin sent Stan off onto a 'work trip'.

In order to do so, you had very abruptly canceled a week's worth of filming for your latest movie. Ironically, it was a horror film but the director was far from pleased with your sudden brief departure.

For days you were stressed out of your mind but when you got the call that it was over- that he was on his way home.

That night your little girl slept in your bed while you quietly cried of joy, thanking whatever higher power for the safety of your husband.

The morning when he returned, he pulled Robin up into his arms and chest. He buried his face on top of her head and kissed her golden curls. You clutched your chest and cupped his cheek with an open hand.

The following weeks were filled with near-constant cuddle piles with Robin when you weren't working of course.

Although you recalled one particularly long day of filming. At the end of it you were covered in gallons upon gallons of fake blood and your own sweat covered you. You headed to your trailer for a long, long shower to wash off the grime and clear the fake blood from beneath your finger nails.

You carefully sat on the bed in just a bra and underwear while you brushed your hair before you heard a knock. You scrambled to pull on a robe and slipped on some flats before opening the door to reveal Stan dressed in his usual formal wear plus his reading glasses. In his arms was Robin, who held out a bunch of little wild daisies.

Without hesitation you pulled her from Stan's arms and to your own chest. You kissed her temple. "I love you my little chickadee."

"I love you mommy," she smiled, smushing her cheek against your shoulder.

"Do I get to meet the proud mommy or what, Stanley?"

You furrowed your brows. "Who was that?"

Stan stepped aside to reveal a rather large group of individuals all of whom stared dead at you.

You felt heat fill your cheeks. "Excuse me. Lemme dress proper and then I'll properly introduce myself." You handed Robin back off to Stan and quickly shut the door before hustling to your closet. You pulled on a simple black dress that fit your curves well enough to be flattering but not flirty.

You did very quick and light makeup (used to doing so being a hustling mother) and slipped on heels before skipping out of your trailer.

You paused when you looked at the group Stan brought along. What jolted you most was the fact that you had met three of them in your career. First:

"Richie Tozier- oh my God you're the Trashmouth my husband told me about!"

Richie laughed and opened his arms. "C'mon I haven't seen you since we worked on that one chick-flick together."

You walked over and gave him a sweet hug but he gripped harder. "Thank you for saving my best friend," he whispered.

"Thank you for helping protect my baby girl."

The two of you pulled apart and you looked to William Denbrough, or more accurately, Big Bill. He had directed the first horror movie you had starred in, along with his wife. The two of you had played sisters.

He smiled sweetly. "Audra sends her regards."

You finally looked to Miss Beverly Marsh. She smiled big. "I see you're wearing one of my dresses. Trying to kiss up to the designer?" You laughed and went in for a hug, which she happily accepted.

Then one by one Stan had introduced you to his friends. Mike, Ben, and Eddie were all new names to you but each one accepted you with nothing but kindness.

Once introductions were done, Stan smiled at you whilst holding Robin's hand while she tried to wander away. "Y/N, baby-love, I was thinking we could all go to dinner."

You happily accepted the idea and all of you headed out.

At the restaurant, you sat across from Stan and Robin just to help keep a proper eye on her. Ben sat on one side of you and Richie on the other.

"You know," Richie began, "she looks like Stan as a kid, but cuter."

You giggled as you watched Stan roll his eyes. Robin, who saw him do so, attempted to roll her eyes but ended up doing a side-eyed pout.

Richie laughed and held his hand out toward the two of them. "C'mon you gotta see the similarities!"

Food arrived at the table not long after and you smiled to yourself when Stan and Robin had the same meals placed in front of them with the exception of one being kid-sized.

They lifted their forks in unison without realizing, which only made the table struggle to contain their laughter.

Stan and Robin both furrowed their brows, which made you laugh even more. Then your phone rang. You sheepishly excused yourself from the table to get it.

You stepped back towards the bathroom before accepting the call. You knew it was from the doctor from the number, but you figured it was because you had never picked up the results of your lab work from a few days prior.

"Hello, this is Y/N Uris."

"Hello Mrs. Uris, we apologize for such a late call but your lab work came back."

"Yes, what of it? Is it explaining why I've been feeling ill in the mornings?"

"Mrs. Uris, you're pregnant."

You quickly ended the call and made your way to the table. Stan and Robin both looked up at you.

"Darling?"

"Momma?"

You smiled. "We're welcoming a fourth into the family." You placed a hand gently against your stomach as cheers filled the room so loud that other tables looked over in annoyance.

"Maybe this time you'll get your own mini-me!"

You laughed and looked to see Stan's eyes watering with joy. You sat down and gripped his hand from across the table. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Robin moved onto Stan's lap and raised a hand. "Me three!"

[veky1993]

Caught - Chapter 7 - Major Crimes Fanfic

And so the ogling series continues. :) You can read it below, or on AO3, or on ffnet. 

Have fun!

He watched, mesmerized and entirely at her mercy, as she straddled him, nothing if not determination in her movement as she flung her hair back over her shoulder in the process. She splayed one hand across the middle of his chest, then wrapped her other around him. She slowly adjusted her position atop him, deliberately dragged herself over him, getting them both ready, and all he could do was swallow hard, his heart pounding in agonizing anticipation.

She offered him a near wicked smile, then finally, finally, sank down on him, and he groaned. She let out a guttural moan in turn, then threw her head back in absolute pleasure.

He tried bucking into her, but she held him in place, her legs tightening around his hips as she simply remained still, intent on savoring the moment, even at his expense. But he could not take it. He palmed her still covered breast, kneading the flesh hard, and roughly grabbed her hip with his other hand. Sure enough her attention was drawn back to him, for she lifted her head and finally acknowledged him. She wiggled, engulfing the remaining inch of him safely within her walls, coaxing out another moan out of him, and then slumped down, her forehead ungracefully meeting his sternum. She moved on top of him, a sweet mewling sound leaving her, then mumbled into his skin, “Finally.”

His unexpected bark of laughter had her pause and look up at him, but when he only maintained his grin, not disagreeing with her statement, she planted a kiss on his lips and after only once clenching around him, as if in warning, started riding him. She set a relentless pace he only managed to interrupt by flipping them over to take over with equal abandon.

The next coherent utterance came from him, when once spent, sated and fighting for proper breath, he repeated into her shoulder, “Finally.”

She let out a light, airy laugh, and unable to resist the call of her flushed skin, he gently sank his teeth into the sensitive tendons of her shoulder, marveling at the way her laugh morphed into a moan when his tongue followed.

The feel of him becoming too much for her overheated body to handle, she reached for his face. Once at eye level, she gave him a wide, happy smile. Her tone was low, still filled with arousal as she told him, “You have no idea how desperately I needed this.”

He smirked at her in a way that said he had more than a vague idea, and kissed her before letting his gaze go over her, thoroughly appreciative. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead and her hair clung to the damp skin there, but she still looked absolutely stunning. She was trying to catch her breath and her heaving chest easily got his attention next. “Desperate looks hot on you,” he told her before kissing her breast.

“Oh, God,” she practically growled out, her low tone a mix of arousal over the way he touched her and amusement over his cheesy line.

He grinned into her skin when he felt her hand at the back of his head, this time pleading with him not to stop. Instead of heeding her plea, he looked up, and tucking her back into the bra neither bothered to properly take off when this steamy encounter started, asked, “You think we could actually undress for round two?”

She laughed, then ran a hand down his undershirt clad chest. It had ridden up, or she may have at some point bunched it up enough to reach naked skin, but in their frenzy neither had bothered with completely ridding him of the garment. “I don’t know,” she replied, her hand now creeping under the material. “You think you’re up for round two?”

“Ouch,” he said, then unceremoniously rolled off of her to soothe his wounded ego.

She was quickly at his side though to soothe it herself, and even though she was laughing at him, he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. She kissed his cheek as soon as she reached it, then placed a more lingering kiss to his lips. On a happy sigh she slowly eased out of it, and nestled her head on the inside of his shoulder, her hand slipping under his shirt again.

Content to simply be, they lapsed into comfortable silence, Andy relaxing completely under her warm weight and the random pattern her fingertips gently drew over his skin. Eventually, he tried again, his tone humorful but also ever so slightly begrudging, “Well, how about round two for you at least?”

A short bubbly giggle burst out of Sharon. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said happily, wrapping herself around him even more.

He laughed as well. “Me, too,” he agreed, kissing her hair. “What’s it been, a week since we actually saw each other?”

She nodded and half sighed, half hummed in the affirmative.

That wasn’t an understatement. They worked together. They lived together. They were married to one another for crying out loud, and yet, they had barely seen each other that week. Not really anyway, not unless it was work related or just a brief few minutes prior to and after taking a quick break before heading out to work again.

Earlier that day though, as they were shuffling around the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee and a bite to eat, they had managed to steal a single, blissfully passionate moment that led to a breathless Sharon being trapped between Andy and a kitchen counter. Unfortunately, Andy’s phone unceremoniously interrupted, and turned their momentary bliss into instant frustration. Still, that stolen moment somehow also left them in much better spirits than they had been all week. They were relatively certain that the case would be wrapped up by the end of the day, so despite the rude interruption, they went to work optimistic, knowing they would soon pick up where they left off. When their case finally did close earlier that evening, Andy considered it a wondrous feat that round one hadn’t happened on the couch in Sharon’s office at the PAB.

Especially, since for once, it had been Sharon’s control and ever so present professionalism that had been slipping.

At the knock against her office door, she looked up from the stack of papers in her lap. She smiled a tired smile when she realized it was Andy, and he greeted her with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back softly, turning around to peek into the murder room. Everyone was on their feet, collecting their things. “I see they’re done?”

“Yeah,” Andy said, waving the pile of folders he was holding at her, “I’ve been designated delivery boy for these.”

She chuckled, knowing he more likely volunteered. “You done, too?”

“I am,” he told her, finally stepping fully into her office, “was planning to wait up on you.”

She gave him a grateful smile, then looked back into the murder room, waving goodbye to the team as they slowly filed out. By the time the last one, Mike, left, throwing them a ‘Don’t stay too long,“ and 'See you Monday,’ Andy had taken a seat next to her on the couch.

”Is there an end in sight with those?“ he asked, indicating her own reports.

”Actually,“ she closed her folder, and proceeded to take the stack he’d brought, "once I look over these, I’m calling it a night as well.”

“Great,” he said eagerly, then made himself comfortable on the couch. “I’m looking forward to our weekend off, so hurry up,” he added, fishing his phone out to, in no doubt, help pass the time while Sharon finished up.

She laughed, leaning back into the couch as well. “Yes, Sir,” she said sarcastically.

Instead of focusing on his phone though, for a while Andy kept looking over her shoulder. Not only that, but he kept pointing out typos in his colleagues’ reports, complaining about missed commas, or even forgotten full stops. While she appreciated his effort to make this tedious task somewhat more interesting, and she found it amusing enough, she was unable to contain her eye roll, when he pointed a finger at a line on the page and asked, “Is that a double space I see there?”

She shot him a look, then shoved him into the opposite corner of the couch with instructions to hush until she was done.

Unfortunately, when he heeded her request, she instantly missed his proximity. If he was distracting earlier, he was positively detrimental to her ability to do her job now. She found herself having to re-read sections of the reports several times before comprehending them, her thoughts wandering more and more with each passing minute. If she kept this up, she might just have to give up, do it all over again later, maybe even ask Andy for help.

They have spent countless evenings like these, him just sitting there, waiting for her to be done, and whether they were seated next to each other on this couch, or across from each other with her desk between them, rarely had she been this poorly focused on her paperwork.

She chanced a look his way, and smiled sympathetically, when she saw him resting his eyes, his phone still clutched in a hand, and his head relaxed against the backrest.

Work had been so demanding the past several weeks, and if she were perfectly honest with herself, she would very much like to simply join him. In fact, that was precisely the reason for her lack of concentration. It didn’t help that she was also starting to regret relegating him to the other end of the couch.

This distance between them, small as it was, made her suddenly acutely aware of just how long it had been since last they really connected, just the two of them, alone and intimately, without the constant buzz of life interrupting or pulling them to more urgent matters.

She never made a conscious decision to do so, but she shuffled back closer to him, if only fractionally, and took a long, quiet breath. That was a simultaneously bad and good idea. On the one hand, the familiar scent of him filled her nostrils and only distracted her further. On the other, it gave way to far more pleasant thoughts. Thoughts of their interrupted morning, for example, and far more importantly, of the promises made after.

On that optimistic note, after signing Provenza’s report, she finally paused, and looked at Andy again. He seemed oblivious to her inner musings, and in fact had gone back to playing with his phone. He looked rather adorable, too, with his brow furrowed in concentration as he seemed to try to solve whatever problem his game had presented to him.

She must have been staring too long, for eventually his brow relaxed and he looked at her in slight surprise. “What? You done already?”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat startled, and even slightly embarrassed over being caught, “sadly, no.” Scrambling to say something that would draw attention from her distracted state, she added, “I’m just jealous you’re already done with your paperwork.”

Andy chuckled. “Well, if you actually worked on those reports,” the 'instead of staring at me’ was loudly implied by a knowing cock of his head, “you could have been long done by now.”

If not for her decades long professional experience, Sharon would have openly gawked at his (more than warranted) accusation. Instead, she threw him a mean, narrow-eyed look, then turned back to the folders in her lap. “Well, then I better get back to it,” she told him with a healthy amount of sarcasm.

Andy laughed. “Sounds like a plan.” And with that he was back to staring at the screen of his phone.

Sharon hummed her agreement, but felt more than a little disappointed that he was quite so happy to let her get back to work. She was seriously starting to consider just leaving the rest till Monday, even though she knew that if she did, she was risking getting called out on a case and postponing it even longer. She closed Provenza’s file finally, and moved on to Tao’s, deciding to just get this over with and then allow Andy to take her home and distract her properly. Only it was that particular moment that Andy chose to shift on his spot and in doing so inadvertently moved closer to her. Now, she felt positively assaulted by his scent, and it forced her to take another deep, pleasurable breath and this one nearly had her groaning in delight.

Unable to help herself now that he was so much closer to her, she closed the remaining distance, briefly leaned her head against the side of his arm, and hummed in a mixture of both melancholy and contentment.

Andy seemed surprised, and paused mid-tapping. “You okay?”

She briefly pressed her temple into his arm again, then straightened altogether. “Yes, yes, just looking forward to finally going home.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed on a sigh, and she almost moaned when he dropped a quick kiss to the side of her head, “I feel like we haven’t been home in a week.”

“_We _haven’t been home in a week,” she said and looked at him.

But he was already back to his phone again, and only agreed with her on a sarcastic chuckle, “I guess not.”

She continued to look at his oblivious self, the folders in her lap now completely forgotten. He showed barely any sign of his usual impatience after a long workweek, no excitement at the prospect of getting to spend some time together. He offered no loaded incentive to hurry her along, no inappropriate looks that would earn him her amused reprimand. Nothing to hint at all that he might be sharing her current sentiments.

_Sharon found herself growing increasingly perplexed. Andy was always impatient, eager to make up for lost time when circumstances cut short their quality time together. In fact, on more than one occasion, after a long case, he had been playfully persistent in his attempts to incite her to leave paperwork for later, or bring it home to work on, _after they had had some fun. Just as often, her resolve had come dangerously close to breaking and giving into his charm. Part of her had started to anticipate, look forward to those moments. She had come to think of them as their own private little foreplay until they came home, took off their police force personas and properly relaxed. What was more, she enjoyed bringing out that side of him, she loved being desired by him, even to the point of irresponsibility.

To find Andy entirely too disinterested with their game tonight made her feel oddly irritated.

Even more so, considering that they had been struggling with that line between professional and personal all day. She had, quite unconsciously, lingered with a touch here and there, be it to get his attention by running a hand down between his shoulder blades slightly more slowly than propriety allowed, or by holding onto his arm for no particular reason and longer than necessary. Nothing had indicated to her that their interactions were any different than usual_－__although in hindsight, he had been a tad more tactile than she was normally comfortable with, and she had not minded it one bit－_until she caught that part startled, part amazed and part aroused look on his face and she realized she was having an effect on him that had no place in their work environment. She had been quick to curb her inadvertent teasing then, and to Andy’s great disappointment, made sure to keep a safe, professional distance between them for the rest of the day. That unfortunate necessity had only increased her already unbearable frustration, and based on the couple of wounded looks he had sent her way after that, she had been certain that Andy was doing no better.

To see him like this now…

It was absolutely preposterous. Being so content to waste his time on his phone, after such a long week, such a long month, mere hours from finally getting some well-deserved rest, and after barely keeping themselves in check today? It was simply not possible. Not her Andy. Now positively irked, she closed Tao’s untouched report, clipped her pen to the folder, and turned fully toward her husband.

In the most commanding voice she could summon, she said, “Andy.”

“Huh?” he said, somewhat stupidly, needing a couple of extra seconds to pry his eyes away from the device in his hands.

That was it for her. When he looked at her, so clueless and yet so adorable at the same time, which had been a number of times that day, she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed his face, forcefully, and before he could even begin to process what was happening, caught his lips in a kiss.

Bless him though for not needing even a millisecond to respond. He made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but immediately kissed her back. She barely registered the sound of his phone clattering to the floor, because then his hand was slipping into her hair, and she was too busy moaning in delight.

For a moment, her mind went completely blank. She didn’t care that they were at work. She didn’t care that even though the murder room was long empty, anyone could just walk in and see into her office through the open blinds. All that mattered was that finally Andy was almost as close to her as he could possibly get. The feel of his lips against hers was heavenly. The scent of him finally surrounded her completely and she couldn’t get enough of it.

God, has it really been weeks?

When she finally released him, not out of want, but rather out of need for air, she couldn’t let him go completely. Instead, she rested her forehead against his, and closed her eyes, content to stay like that till Monday for all she cared.

“You’re supposed to be working,” Andy finally mumbled, sarcastic and teasing, but she could tell he was just as dazed as she was, and she felt more than a little proud of herself for being the cause of it.

“I don’t care,” she shot back petulantly, causing him to laugh. “I’ve missed you,” she added, pecking his lips once more before pulling back completely.

He gave her a lopsided smile, and she very nearly attacked him with another kiss because she found that smile irresistible and she was sure he very well knew that. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I would never have guessed,” she said, making sure she sounded sufficiently accusatory.

“Well,” he shrugged, and the way he dragged the word out had her thinking that perhaps he had been playing that game of theirs all along, “I was gonna show you when we finally got home. Or escaped this goddamn building.” He made a show out of securing the report that had slipped between them back into her lap_. _“You just need to hurry up and finish these.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was being entirely too nonchalant about this whole thing.

When her stare lasted long enough, he asked, “What?”

He sounded much too innocent for her liking, and then it suddenly hit her. This was payback. For putting up her impenetrable wall of professionalism halfway through their day. For leaving him hanging just as it was getting interesting. Oh, he was good, she decided, impressed, and let him have this moment of revenge. Not only had he been playing their usual little game, he had managed to play her, and put her in _his shoes for a change. Her realizations must have played across her face for he suddenly grinned, smug about her catching on only now. She should be furious with him, or herself, but this was only further proof that she had finally met her match. She could only marvel at that instead.

So she playfully rolled her eyes, offering no further acknowledgment of his little victory, even as his grin knowingly widened, and said, “Let me wrap this up then.” She planned to seal her decision with another quick kiss, but this time it was Andy who couldn’t control himself and whose hands landed on her cheeks, keeping her close while he gave her a deep, languid kiss.

He was grinning again when he pulled back and she opened her eyes. “I like it when you can’t contain yourself,” he told her, clearly not beyond gloating a little. “Especially at work,” he added, his voice loaded with what only moments ago she had been so sorely missing.

She felt her cheeks warming, and other parts of her tingling with renewed desire. “Don’t get used to it, Lieutenant,” she said, having to force herself to return to her pile of paperwork before she succumbed to her impulses again.

“I won’t,” he told her, casually enough, “but,” he paused, deliberately sliding a hand up her thigh, as he leaned in close, “should you change your mind, you know I’m always game.” With that, he gave her thigh a squeeze that instantly made her squirm, then abruptly pulled back.

“Andy,” she scolded, but sounded entirely too aroused for it to have the desired effect.

“Commander,” he mocked, unconcerned as he located his phone and checked if it was still in one piece.

She shot him a look, but said, “Give me 15 minutes.” It took effort not to just drop everything and take him home. “If I’m not done by then,” she elaborated, gracing him with a look that matched some of his best smirks, “feel free to go home and start without me.”

“Oh,” he started ominously, even as his eyes returned to his phone screen, “if you’re not done in 15 minutes, I’m starting alright.” He shot her a look that would have set a lesser woman on fire, and added, “And not at home either.”

She snort-laughed, and kept her eyes on him for a long moment as she contemplated just how much she adored this man and his sense of humor, but then she was startled into blushing, when without so much as sparing her a glance, in forced annoyance, he growled, “Eyes on the reports, Commander!”

Getting home after that had felt like an eternity for both of them. Their car ride home must have been the most tension filled in recorded history, and once they stumbled through the front door, it was no wonder they had barely gotten undressed or even made it to their bed.

“We should retire,” Sharon suddenly suggested.

“What?” he asked on a laugh. “You getting too old for all nighters and non-stop cases?”

She tickled his side in reprimand, making him squirm. “No,” she said at length. “But I would like to enjoy more of your company while I’m young enough to make the most of it.” As if to underline her point, she dragged her fingernails teasingly across his chest.

Even as he groaned, he was suddenly quick to agree. “Wanna put in our papers now, or tomorrow?”

She laughed, then slowly sat up, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she reached behind her back. Unclasping her bra, she said, “First things first.”

[captainmarvels]

once upon a love...

Summary: Love is many things, and Steve knows that by now. But when he realizes something that’s been there all along, perhaps he’ll get to know a new side of love he’s never seen before.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 1751

A/N: This was inspired by a steve weekend anon’s ask, so hopefully you enjoy! i thought it deserved more than just some simple headcanons :’) also, so sorry this past steve weekend sucked, i am still sick/exhausted and i was out all day sunday :( but i promise next week will be better, so in the mean time please enjoy this piece!!! xx

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Love is… many things. It comes together and falls apart like an ocean wave, crashing ceaselessly against the porous sand that makes up your heart.

Love can take many forms. It can reinvent itself time and time again, slipping through your fingers without a second glance.

Love knows no bounds, as it is more infinite than the universe itself. Perhaps it is a universe of its own, existing and thriving outside the limits of humanity.

Love is… well, it’s a haven and a torture chamber. It can make the world shine brighter than the sun, and yet still light your heart on fire, all at once.

Love can never be conquered. You think it’s teaching you a lesson, time and time again, but all it really does is show you its strength, its power. Its inevitability. 

Love is inevitable. It creeps up on you when you least expect it; it is all consuming, all powerful. Sometimes its for the best, and sometimes its for the worst. Only one way to find out.

Steve never thought he’d fall in love. He never thought anyone would ever fall in love with him, of all people. Yet here you were - the bright moon casting warm light over the dark waters of his mind and soul.

He couldn’t believe what his heart was doing - subjecting itself to the love of a single person. Again. But he let it happen. He’d rather be subject to your heart and soul than the pain and suffering still lingering in every corner of his heart.

The first time Steve felt it, he thought he might actually be having a heart attack the second he heard you giggling. You were sitting across from him, your hand over your heart as you try your best to stop laughing - to no avail.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, trying his best not to join in on the laughter. His smile was starting to hurt as he watched you hold up your other hand, a few stray giggles escaping you as you cleared your throat.

“You… oh my gosh, you have whipped cream all over your face!” You burst out laughing once again, and he felt the same skip in his heartbeat. He couldn’t stop the smile dancing on his lips, nor the giggle that slipped out as he listened to you laugh away. He wouldn’t mind listening to you like this, all day.

The next time he feels it, Steve is watching you concentrate on a game of D&D with the party. Your eyes are trained on the board in front of you, as you contemplate your next move. Will, Lucas, and Mike wait anxiously, their eyes following your gaze as your eyes darted around the board.

Steve didn’t even know he was smiling until he felt a nudge in his side, followed by a low whisper from Dustin.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“Shush,” Steve whispered, his gaze never breaking away from you. He watched you grin as you finally announced your next move, and the boys cheered in relief as you took out the monster. He felt Dustin’s hand on his shoulder, finally tearing his eyes away from you. He saw Dustin was grinning, and rolled his eyes as he pushed his hand off him.

“What, Henderson?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Harrington”

A few months later, Steve finally asked you out, and it was happily ever after. The two of you spent practically every moment together, and Steve couldn’t be happier. Finally having you by his side was worth it all, and he didn’t think it could get any better than this. 

Then, Starcourt happened. The Byers left, and the kids - especially Mike and Max -  were devastated, so they started spending more and more time with the two of you. 

Steve had his own devastation to deal with. He often found himself in the living room late at night, mindlessly watching some tv show he happened upon as he flipped through the channels. He barely got any sleep anymore, ever since the thing with the Russians and the monster happened - his nightmares were progressively getting worse, and he didn’t really know how to cope. 

On this particular night, Steve found himself fiddling with a stray strand of hair when he picked up on the soft padding of your feet against the hardwood floors upstairs. He got up from the couch, just in time to see you walk through the doors, a massive blue blanket draped over your figure. You smiled sleepily at him, a small smile gracing your lips as you met his gaze. You turned around and headed over to the kitchen, and Steve sat back down, returning to the tv show.

He heard you walk down the hall and over to the large couch, claiming the seat right next to him. He glanced over at you, smiling to himself as he watched you focus on the show, eating a bowl of cereal. He looked back at the tv, crossing his arms over his chest as he feels a slight chill.

“Are you cold?” You asked, your eyes still glued to the tv. Steve shook his head. “Are you sure? No need to be the tough ol’ Steve Harrington right now.” You point out, a small smile tugging at your lips as you took in a spoonful of cereal. He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Yes, I am.”

“Okay.” You set your bowl on the coffee table, and cuddled up to Steve. He rested his arm on the back of the couch, moving into the corner as you settled in next to him. You tossed the blanket over both your legs and his, pulling it up to your chin.

“You’re that cold, princess?” You looked at him, raising an eyebrow before you reach over for your bowl.

“Let me live in peace. Now shut up and watch the show, please.” You smiled, turning back to the tv once again.

“Only because you said please, sweetheart.”

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

Funny enough, you don't end up watching the show. Steve’s gotten you caught up in some psychoanalysis of the show, discussing the character’s ulterior motives. You’ve sat up, his head resting on your shoulder, listening to you yell at the characters on the screen.

“No, you idiot! Can’t you see she’s going to kill you all?!” Steve doesn’t even realize it, but he’s got the widest smile on his face, his eyes focused on you, his ears straining to catch every word that falls from your tongue. In that moment, he wished it to be the one thing he could listen to, forever.

It’s a chilly Sunday morning in November, the warm sunlight creeping through the parted curtains that brings Steve a sweet, peaceful thought. As he turned onto his side, you yawned, trying to stretch, only to find your boyfriend’s arm resting over your waist, his eyes, filled with adoration, meeting your sleepy gaze.

“G’morning, sleepyhead.” His voice was gentle, but it still put a smile on your face as you hummed happily.

“Good morning. And how long have you been up, silly?” You asked, raising your hand up to run through his long locks as he tightened his grip around you. He groaned in approval as you scratched at his scalp, and you giggled as he slowly closed the distance between you.

“You think we can stay like this, forever?” Steve’s got a massive grin on his face, his gaze never falling away from you.

“Of course we could. You’ll never be able to get rid of me anyways. But why’re you staring at me? Do I have drool on my face?” He chuckled as you moved to wipe the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“No, baby. You know I only have eyes for you,” You playfully rolled your eyes, cupping his face as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Only eyes for me? Should I expect more staring then, King Steve?” He giggled against your skin, shifting slightly to leave sloppy kisses all over your face as you tried to turn away.

“Steve!” You were both laughing, his lips still trailing wet kisses along your jaw and neck as you toyed with his hair.

It was the moments like this; the two of you, quite literally wrapped in your love for one another, that made him think about it. Forever. 

With you? He’d die the happiest man on the planet, and that was a fact. There was no one else but you, and Steve knew right then and there, that this was it. All he had ever wanted; all he had ever wished for after learning what heartbreak was, the hard way.

Steve should’ve realized the first time he felt that skip in his heart that he was in love; that all he wanted was to be with you, for the rest of his life. Didn’t matter how, where, when - he just knew he wanted to be with you. 

“Marry me.” The words fell from his lips after leaving a kiss on your chin, his eyes locking with yours as he hovered above you. He didn’t even realize those words had slipped out until he saw your smile falter for a split second as you looked at him.

“Really?” The glimmer in his eyes seemed to dim at your response. His heart was racing, his stomach tied in knots, and yet your eyes were suspending him in time. You cupped his cheek, meeting his gaze once again. “Is this serious, Stevie?”

“I love you. I’ve never loved anyone or anything the way I love you. I want to be yours. Forever.” He took your hand in his, without breaking eye contact, and pressed a soft kisses all over your fingers.

“Ask me again.” He raised an eyebrow, his lips lingering on your palm. “Seriously, ask me again, or else you’re not getting an answer.” You giggled as he rolled his eyes, watching as he took your hand from his cheek to rest on his heart. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Marry me, please. Let’s go through life together; having each others backs, and never looking back.” Your eyes met a golden brown, and you whispered a small “yes” before closing the distance between your lips. Steve couldn’t stop smiling, and soon enough you were in a fit of laughter as he pulled away to litter your face with kisses.

“I can’t wait to do this forever.”

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

tagging: @cherrynat @thorsxodinson @marvelismylifffe @cxddlyash @l4life @spidey-pal @000bananaclip000 @novaddictx @fragcc @bittergoldilocks @messybitchjuice @jurassicbarnes @mercedesbarnes @sadhwstudent @ahoyfandoms @myhearthurtsss @madeinthemidnightmemories @nancethebadass @okaybutsteveharrington @coffee-and-stories @multifan-smc @stebehairrington @cassandras-musings

[trashcanreddiefan]

The 1st Annual Losers' Club Christmakkah Celebration

Summary: The Losers gather for their first annual Christmakkah celebration. Several announcements are made, and Richie’s Christmas wish just may come true.

Word Count: 2800-ish

Warnings: None whatsoever. This is pure fluff.

Author’s Note: Post-Chapter 2. All of the Losers are alive in this fic, including Stan, because canon can suck it.

1st in a (at least) 3-part series where the Losers take turns hosting Christmakkah.

CROSS-POSTED AT AO3.

Bzz bzzz. Bzzz bzzz. Bzzz Bzzz. Bzzz bzzz.

Richie Tozier groaned and picked his phone up off of his nightstand, squinting at it in the harsh early morning light and smiling sleepily when he saw that new messages were flooding in in the Losers’ group text thread.

Benverly (Bev): First annual Loser’s Club Non-denominational Holiday Celebration at Ben’s house on December 24th!

Benverly (Ben): OUR house, Bev.

Benverly (Bev): Our house. :-*

Benverly (Ben): I love being able to say that.

Micycle: Can’t wait!

Billiam: Audra and I will definitely be there!

Staniel: Patty and I will be there.

Eds: I’m coming.

Richie waited until everyone had confirmed before sending his response. Oh, I don’t know if I can be away from Eds’s mom for that long.

Eddie’s reply immediately came through.

Eds: Dude, you realize the joke no longer works since my mom’s been dead for 12 years, right?

Eds: Also, fuck you.

Richie grinned. Love you too, Eds.

Staniel: Richie, you had better be there or else I’m personally coming get you and dragging your ass to Ben & Beverly’s.

Richie shook his head. I’m kidding, guys, I’ll be at Christmakkah. Honestly, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Eds: Good, it wouldn’t be a Losers’ Holiday Celebration without the biggest loser of us all.

Richie snorted with laughter. Ouch, Eds, you wound me. 💀

Eds: Truth hurts, asshole. And that’s still not my name.

Billiam: Christmakkah? Really?

Staniel: Actually, I kind of like it.

Benverly (Ben): Ok, 1st annual Losers’ Christmakkah Celebration at my & Bev’s house then. :)

Everyone had mutually agreed that gifts weren’t necessary, that everyone having made it out of Neibolt alive and It being well and truly dead was gift enough.

Richie was never one to follow the rules, however, which is how he found himself loaded down with gift bags in front of Ben & Beverly’s house 3 weeks later. He rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later the door swung open to reveal Eddie.

Richie blinked. “Hey, Eds.”

A smile spread over Eddie’s face. “Richie, hey. Come on in, everyone’s in the dining room.”

Richie stepped inside and Eddie reached for some of the gift bags. “Here, let me help you with that stuff.”

Richie and Eddie deposited Richie’s gifts in the living room. Once Richie had taken his jacket and gloves off and was settled, Eddie pulled him into a hug. “I’m really glad to see you, man.”

“Same here, Eds. I’ve missed you– I mean I’ve missed all of you. Even though it’s only been a few months. Yeah. Anyway, let’s go in the dining room so I can see everyone else.”

Once they reached the dining room, Richie announced his presence in his usual loud, playful fashion. “Happy Christmakkah, Losers!” he shouted.

“Richie!” came the chorus of replies, followed by hugs and greetings.

Bev rubbed her hands together. “Good, now that you’re here, let’s eat!”

After dinner, everyone gathered in Ben & Bev’s gigantic living room to sit by the fire and socialize. Stan, Patty, Ben, & Bev sat on one sofa, Audra, Bill & Mike were on the other, and Richie and Eddie each sat in the 2 armchairs by the fireplace.

“While we’re all here, Patty and I have a gift for everyone,” Stan announced. “I know we said that we weren’t going to get everyone gifts, but…” he shrugged. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

He began handing out bags to everyone. “Don’t open them yet.”

Richie fiddled with the tissue paper sticking out of his bag as he waited for Stan to sit back down. “Ok, go ahead,” Stan said.

Richie pulled the tissue paper out and pulled out a white onesie that read “I love my uncle.” He looked around everyone else, who all held the same gift, with Bev’s reading “I love my aunt” instead.

Stan placed a hand over Patty’s stomach. “We’re expecting!” he said excitedly.

Richie jumped up and gave Stan a hug. “Staniel, you old dog, congratulations!” He then turned to Patty, giving her a much gentler hug. “You guys are going to be fucking phenomenal parents, I just know it.”

After everyone had congratulated Stan and Patty, Ben cleared his throat, looking at Bev in silent conversation. Bev tilted her head in affirmation.

Ben got up and grabbed some gift bags from behind the couch. “Here you go, everyone,” Ben said sheepishly, handing them out.

Each bag contained a dual photo frame, one side holding a picture of the Losers’ at 13 and the other holding a more recent group photo that had been taken at the Jade of the Orient before they had all remembered It, and an envelope.

Richie tore his card open. Inside was an engagement announcement.

Bev linked her fingers through Ben’s. “We’re getting married,” she said happily. “We decided to do it while you’re all still here for the holidays since we want the most important people in our lives to be there.”

Another round of congratulations echoed around the room.

Bill spoke up next. “I brought gifts too. No announcement though, at least not unless you count a new book deal.”

Everyone congratulated Bill as he handed his gifts out, Richie good-naturedly teasing him about hoping Bill had finally learned how to write an ending.

“Ok, so I’m assuming no one listened and brought everyone a gift anyway?” Mike said, then nodded when Richie and Eddie both murmured an assent. “In that case I’m going next.”

He handed everyone their gift, then settled back down. “I do have a small announcement –  I’ve decided to settle down in Key West. I just closed on a house last week.”

“Next Christmakkah at Mike’s,” Richie said jokingly, unwrapping his gift.

Mike had gifted each Loser with something he had picked up during his travels, Richie’s being a hand-carved wooden turtle.

He glanced at Mike.

“I saw that at a little roadside stand in Arizona and thought of you for some reason,” Mike explained with a shrug.

“I like it,” Richie replied with a nod. “Thanks, man.”

He hadn’t told anyone what he had seen in the deadlights, but he had distinctly remembered seeing a giant turtle right before he fell.

“What about you, Eddie?” Bev asked. “Any announcements?”

Richie studied Eddie’s profile. He looked… calmer than the last time Richie had seen him. Then again, the last time Richie had seen him they had just defeated IT a few days prior, so naturally they were all still a little frazzled.

“Actually, yes,” Eddie replied. “I filed for divorce once I got back to New York. Also, I quit my job. I figure at this point in my life it’s too late to become a doctor, but I’ve decided to go to nursing school to become a nurse practitioner.”

Richie’s heart sped up. Eddie’s single.

He mentally chastised himself. He's still your best friend, not to mention straight. Don’t fuck it up. He blinked as Eddie dropped a gift bag in his lap.

Eddie had obviously taken great care in selecting each person’s gifts, giving Bill a nice fountain pen and notebook set, Audra a spa certificate, Mike a hardcover coffee table-type book, Ben a vinyl re-release of New Kids on the Block’s Hanging Tough album, Bev a silk scarf that she had offhandedly mentioned wanting during a Losers’ Skype session a few months prior, Stan a book on exotic birds of Moldavia or something (Richie wasn’t quite sure) and Patty a broach with a hummingbird on it.

Richie carefully opened his gift, pulling out a leather jacket very similar to the one he had lost in the sewers. He softly stroked it.

Eddie had been watching him. “Thought you could use a replacement,” he said.

“Thanks, Eds.”

Richie realized belatedly that it was his turn. His mouth went dry. He almost blurted out that he didn’t have anything for anyone and that he had absolutely nothing to say, but Eddie had helped him haul his gifts in so he knew that wouldn’t work.

He stood and hurriedly passed out everyone’s gift bags. “Uh, my gift is also an announcement and this was the best way I could figure out how to do it, so…” He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hands. “Ok, go ahead.”

Each Loser (with Stan and Patty receiving one bag) pulled out a CD single of “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross.

Richie studied each Loser’s expression as they looked at their gift. Ben, Bill, and Mike all looked confused, Bev had a slow smile spreading on her face, Stan was shaking his head while trying to hold back laughter, (the fucker, he probably knew back when we were kids –) and Eddie… well for once in his life Richie couldn’t read Eddie’s expression. He took a deep breath. “So yeah, um, surprise! I’m gay.” He did a little ‘tah-dah’ motion with his hands as an emphasis. “I’m gonna come out publicly soon but it was important to me to tell you guys first.”

Stan was the first one to move, standing and wrapping Richie in a hug. “I’m proud of you, Rich,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean somebody’s gotta be the cool gay uncle to the next generation of Losers,” Richie joked, holding back tears as the rest of the Losers embraced him.

He sniffled. “Ok, as much as I’m enjoying this mostly beefcake-filled love fest, I, uh, I need some air. I’ll be back in a few.”

Richie quickly detached himself from everyone and headed out to Ben and Beverly’s porch.

He had figured everyone would be supportive of him, but it had still been overwhelming. He took a few deep breaths in order to collect himself then froze as he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey Rich, you ok?” Eddie.

Richie sniffled and cleared his throat. “Yeah, man, I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

Eddie walked up next to him. “I uh, I have to tell you something else,” he said quietly. “It’s why I divorced Myra.” He shook his head. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy, but there was more to it than just that.”

Richie fought the urge to make a joke about Eddie realizing his Oedipus complex. Now’s not the time, Tozier. “Hey, man, your life is your business, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s up to you–”

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie blurted.

Richie blinked. “You’re in what with who now?”

Eddie sighed and looked skyward as if praying for strength.

Richie couldn’t believe his ears. “Ed. Eds. Eddie. I swear to Christ if you’re just fucking with me–”

“Jesus, Richie, do you honestly think I would ever do that–” Eddie spluttered.

“–Because I honestly couldn’t take it if you were.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, Rich… All these years, it wasn’t just my childhood memories that were missing, it felt like… like part of my soul was gone too. I’d been attracted to a few guys in college – all tall, dark-haired, lanky motherfuckers, but I always felt like I was comparing them to some unknown person so they never worked out. Then I met Myra and she was just so… safe that I buried that part of myself and wound up marrying her, even though I knew I was making a mistake.”  

Eddie smiled. “Then about a year ago I caught one of your specials on TV and felt a peace I hadn’t had in years. So I watched all of the shows that I could get my hands on, then I found a bunch of clips of you on YouTube and watched those too. There was something so… familiar about you, even though in the back of my mind I knew something was off - which as it turns out, was that your jokes weren’t really yours.” He huffed out a laugh.

Richie winced. “I’m working on that.”

“Good. You’re much funnier than you give yourself credit for.”

“You think I’m funny?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

Richie was still processing. What the actual fuck. “So wait, so you're… into dudes?”

Eddie smirked. “Well, I’m certainly not actually into women.”

“And you’re into me in particular.”

“Yes.”

Richie still didn’t quite get it. “Why?”

Judging by Eddie’s reaction Richie realized he hadn’t just thought it, but had said it out loud.

“Because, Rich, you’re you. You never made fun of me because of my hypochondria, you always protected me when Bowers would give us shit, and no matter how bad things got at home I always knew I could go to you and you wouldn’t ask any questions and would let me stay as long as I needed. You’re my best friend and I always loved the way you made me feel when I was around you. At first I thought it was perfectly normal to feel for your friends like I felt about you, but as we got older and I started to analyze it I realized that I didn’t feel about any of the others in quite the same way.  You were always joking around and acting like you didn’t give a shit about what anyone said, and I wanted to be like that… You made me want to be brave.”

Richie’s heart cracked. “Eds. I’ve told you before. You are brave. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

Eddie shook his head. “I wasn’t though. For the longest time I was terrified to admit it to myself, but after everything that happened this year I knew I was finally brave enough to tell you. I love you, Rich. I’ve loved you since we were 12 years old, and when I turned and saw you at the Jade the final pieces of the puzzle sort of slotted back into place. I knew I couldn’t go back to New York and keep living life the way I had been, but I also felt like I couldn’t tell you how I felt about you while I was still married. It wasn’t fair to you or to Myra. So when I got home I told Myra as much as I could, and we mutually agreed to separate. The divorce was finalized last week.”

“Fuck, Eddie…” Richie couldn’t believe it. Eddie loves me. Eddie LOVES me. Holy fucking shit, EDDIE loves ME.

Eddie was still talking. “And I mean it’s fine, I know just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’re into me, and if you didn’t feel the same back then or even now it’s okay because– mmph.”

Before Richie could even process what he was doing he had pulled Eddie to him and had slotted his lips over Eddie’s.

Eddie’s lips were just as soft as Richie had always imagined. I see he’s still using Chapstick religiously, he thought, moaning as Eddie nipped his bottom lip then soothed the bite with his tongue while his hands reached up to tangle themselves into Richie’s unruly hair.

He briefly detatched himself from Eddie’s lips. “I love you too, Eds,” he breathed. “I loved you before I even knew what love was and I’ve loved you every day since. You’re it for me.”

Eddie let out a growl and pulled him back in, immediately deepening the kiss.

Oh Jesus Christ yes, PLEASE. Richie would’ve happily stayed right there on Ben and Bev’s porch making out with Eddie all night, but unfortunately he was outside in 30-degree weather without a coat. He shivered.

Eddie pulled back. “Christ, Richie, you’re freezing. Come on, let’s go inside with the others.”

Richie held him back. “Wait, wait, Eds. How exactly is this going to work? We live on opposite sides of the country.”

Eddie bit his lip. “I um, actually I didn’t exactly say where I was going to school either.” He glanced up at Richie. “I enrolled at UCLA.”

A smile bloomed on Richie’s face. “Really? You’re moving to L.A.?”

“Yeah, I mean UCLA has a great nursing program and I needed a change of scenery anyway, so I figured the west coast would be a good choice…”

Richie thought about his cold, empty house in Beverly Hills. Here goes nothing. “So, do you like, have a house or apartment or anything yet?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m looking into apartments near campus but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Because you know you can totally come stay with me while you look for a place, or… even better, just move in with me permanently.” Richie bit his lip. “Because like I said, you’re it for me, Eds. You’ve always been it for me. You’ll always be it for me.”

Eddie was silent for a few moments, appearing to be weighing his options. Finally he said, “Okay.”

Richie’s heart leapt. “Okay?”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah. Okay. Because you’re it for me too, you know.”

“Well in that case…” Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand, dragging him inside. “HEY, EVERYONE! WE HAVE ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT!”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Chapter 8: Dinner with Fel and Syd

Masterlist

Abby's POV

Just like I had thought, a few hours after Hannah left my apartment my dad called.

"Abigail," he sighed, not hiding his disappointment. I couldn't help but notice that the tone of his voice was the same tone he used when I would come home after curfew.

I only did that once and I was barely a minute late.

"Hannah told me," he started, but I wasn't in the mood for another lecture from him.

"I'm not having this argument with either one of you again. I will say this one last time; I am not planning the wedding until Caleb is home. Also, I am not allowing my step-monster to interfere with mine or Caleb's life. I know you don't understand, but I don't care anymore. If you keep trying to interfere or find a way to sneak yourself into this, you won't be getting an invitation."

"You can't stop your father from coming to your wedding," he challenged.

"Try me."

He was silent, my heartbeat echoing in my ear. I held my breath as I heard him clear his throat.

"If that is the attitude you are going to have, then I won't give you my blessing."

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Hate to break it to you, dad, but this isn't the 1800s. I don't need your permission to marry the love of my life. If I want to marry Caleb, I will. I know how finding the one you want to spend the rest of your life with is like a sport to you, but it's serious to me. Besides, Caleb has been in my life since high school. If you really didn't like him, you wouldn't have allowed him to be in my life this long. I love Caleb and I know he loves me. I am going to marry him. This wedding, this marriage, is happening with or without you."

"Well then," he cleared his throat. "Let me know when you want our help."

I bit my tongue, tears burning my eyes. "I will let you know if I want your help."

After that conversation, I hung up the phone and angrily threw it on my bed. I left it there as I walked to the kitchen to get myself a much-needed drink. I started to reach for the half-opened bottle of white wine but grabbed a cold beer instead.

I was ten episodes in on Arrow and three beers in my system when I heard the faint sound of my phone ringing upstairs. I got up, my knees shaky from the beers, and headed upstairs. By the time I got there, my phone had stopped ringing.

I was about to turn around and head back downstairs to watch Oliver fight Deathstroke when my phone started ringing again. I sighed as I walked over and leaned down to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, honey." Felicia's sweet voice echoed through the speaker. "You sound tired."

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I haven't umm I haven't been sleeping much and I keep fighting with my dad about. . ." My voice broke as the tears threatened to stream down my cheeks.

I hadn't talked to Felicia since she took me to the support group. She's texted me here and there to check-in, but that's it.

"Why don't you come over tonight?" She offered. "Syd has been asking about you. I think focusing on your welfare is helping distract her from missing her dad."

"That's," I sighed, not really sure what else to say to her.

"Honey," Felicia sighed. "I know it's been rough with Caleb being gone. Trust me, I understand how hard it is. The only reason I get through it is because I have Syd. I just want to be there for you. Come over tonight. We'll eat dinner, maybe make some cookies, watch a movie, and just relax. Besides, it'll be good for you to get out of your apartment and go somewhere other than work."

I hesitated, my eyes beginning to water. Part of me was grateful to have someone like Felicia who is willing to talk to me. The other part of me wanted to be left alone until he comes home in a few weeks.

"If you want," Felicia added, "after Syd goes to sleep, you and I can stay up all night drinking and talking."

"That," I sighed, giving in. "That sounds amazing. Thank you, Felicia."

"Anytime," she said with a soft giggle. Suddenly, she stopped laughing and cleared her throat. "I'll see you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

I hung up the phone, slowly moving it away from my ear. I sighed, deciding to take a shower to sober up before dinner. I took a shaky breath as the tears began to fall again.

"Why the hell can't I stop crying?" I mumbled, angrily wiping away the tears.

                       * * * * *

I got out of my car and headed up the steps to Felicia's house. After I had hung up with her, I took a shower to sober up before dinner. I put on a small smile as Sydney opened the door.

"Abby!" She said excitedly as she quickly wrapped her arms around my waist. "I've missed you!" She pulled out of the hug, grabbed my hand and led me inside.

She pulled me into the kitchen where Felicia was stirring some pasta.

"Hey, sweetie." She smiled at me.

"Smells great," I said as Syd finally detached herself from me and ran over to the counter.

"Abby, do you want to help me set the table?" Syd asked as she held three plates in her hands.

"Sure," I smiled. As Felicia finished cooking dinner, Syd and I set up the table.

"All done!" Syd said happily as we walked back into the kitchen.

"Great," her mother smiled. "Go wash your hands, please."

Sydney nodded as she turned on her heel and ran to the bathroom. "She seems happy," I smiled as I leaned against the counter.

"Like I said over the phone, she's been really worried about you. Plus, I think she's happy not to have an empty spot at the dinner table."

Felicia stopped talking and looked at me. "You sounded. . .tired when I called earlier. How are you doing?" She whispered.

"I kind of wish people would stop asking me that," I mumbled as I helped her carry that last few things to the table.

"I know," Felicia sighed. "I used to hate when people asked me how I was, mainly because they felt like they had to ask, like they were obligated. But, Abigail, I'm not asking because I feel obligated. I'm asking because I remember how hard it was the first time Mike left. I understand a lot more than those other people. So, do something that I never did."

"What?" I asked quietly.

"Talk to me."

Before I could say anything, Sydney came running into the room. "Are we ready?" She asked, eagerly bouncing on her toes. "I'm starving."

"Yes," Felicia laughed. "Let's dig in."

We sat down and ate dinner, having the traditional small talk. Sydney told countless stories about school and Felicia asked me about work. Of course, I didn't talk about my dad, step-mom or how much I was really struggling with Caleb being gone. I didn't want to say something that would upset Sydney. So, instead, I waited until later to open up.

We spent the rest of the night baking cookies and listening to music. A few hours later, Felicia and I noticed Sydney rubbing her eyes.

"Alright, I think it's time for you to go to bed," Felicia laughed.

"But I'm not tired," Sydney said, a yawn ending her sentence. Felicia and I sent each other knowing looks.

"Why don't I tuck you in?" I offered. That seemed to perk her up. She slid off her chair and headed upstairs. Felicia sent me a smile as she started putting the cookies away.

I walked upstairs and waited as Sydney brushed her teeth, already in her pj's. After she had gargled water and spit it out, she put her toothbrush away and grabbed my hand. We walked to her room, her small hand still in mine.

She got into bed and I pulled the covers up and around her. "There you go. Anything I'm forgetting?" I smiled down at her.

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. I was just about to leave when she stopped me. "Abby?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

She hesitated before finally sighing and asking, "Are you okay? Mommy is worried about you and I see how tired you are."

I sighed as I knelt down at the side of her bed. I started playing with her hair as I bit my lip.

"I'm okay, Syd. I just. . . Things have been a little harder than I thought they would be, you know? I mean, I miss Caleb."

"Because you love him. Right?" She cut me off, a small smile on her lips.

"Yes I do," I laughed. "I love him very much."

"Mommy told me you guys are getting married. Like her and daddy."

"She's right," I smiled. I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and showed it to her. "See? Caleb asked me to marry him a few months before he left. And when he comes home we'll finally start planning the wedding."

"Are you excited?" She asked, giving me my ring back. I smiled as I slipped it onto my finger.

"More than I can express to you," I said. I gasped when a tear slid down my cheek and she reached up to catch it.

"Daddy and Caleb are gonna come home. I know it."

I smiled as I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"You know something, kiddo?" I whispered. "I think you might be right."

                       * * * * *

I walked down the stairs and took a shaky breath. I walked into the kitchen and laughed when I saw that Felicia had already poured two glasses of red wine.

"Ready to talk?" She asked, handing me one. I laughed as we walked into the other room. We sat on the couch, Felicia waiting for me to start.

"I just," I sighed, not entirely sure where to start. "I can't seem to stop crying. There's only a month left until he comes home, but I feel more overwhelmed, more scared, more terrified. And my dad isn't necessarily helping the situation. Every time I turn around, it's like him and my step-mother keep reminding me that there is a possibility of Caleb not coming home, of something happening to him. It kills me how. . . insensitive he's being about this whole thing. It's almost like. . . Like he doesn't want me to marry Caleb. But how could he not? Caleb has always protected me, taken care of me, and been there for me since high school. My dad loved Caleb back when I first met him. He once said, "Abigail, that boy would sell his soul for you." It took me a while to realize it, but he was right. Caleb would do anything for me. Even give up his dream of working on an oil rig to make sure I was happy. Sometimes. . . Sometimes, I wish I had asked him to stay."

"Abigail," Felicia sighed. "You don't mean that. I know it's been hard, but I also know how proud you are of Caleb."

"I just. . ." My voice broke as a sob got caught in my throat. "I miss him so much, Fel."

When the sob escaped my lips, she grabbed my glass, put hers and mine on the coffee table and pulled me into her chest. Finally crying with someone to hold me, felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders.

"I know, sweetheart." She said softly as she ran her fingers through my hair. I couldn't help but think about how she acted more like a mom to me than my own step-mother.

I spent the rest of the night, talking to Felicia about everything I've been feeling. When I talked to her about not wanting to plan the wedding, she completely understood. She told me that she felt a similar way the first time Mike left. His first time, she was pregnant with Sydney. She was just as hesitant to build the nursery or even have her baby shower without Mike as I was to plan the wedding without Caleb.

We talked about my dad and step-mom crossing boundaries and their over-generous suggestions. Surprisingly to me, Felicia agreed and understood when I said that having my dad pay for the wedding would mean they would take over the planning. She agreed that Caleb and I should be able to make our own mistakes. She laughed at my father's suggestion of us living with them. Apparently, while Mike was gone after Felicia had Sydney, they moved in with her parents.

"It was helpful. At times," she added with a knowing smirk. "But I couldn't take the judgmental looks or the conversations with my mom about Mike being gone. It got too much for me. So sweetie, if you don't think it's a good idea to move in with your father and Hannah, then don't. Remember, this is your life. You love Caleb and he loves you. I just want you both to be happy."

"And we are. I think," I stuttered. "I just. . . I don't know how much longer I can do this, Felicia. I have to hand it to you. You guys have done this for years. I've only done this for two months and it's kicking my ass. What if he wants to do this again? What if he wants to go back? What if once wasn't enough? What if. . ."

My breathing had sped up, the anxiety attack building.

"Abigail," Felicia said quickly. "Calm down, sweetheart. You don't know that. You don't know if he wants to go back. You don't know whether or not once is enough. You don't know what will happen. And you won't know unless you ask him. But for now? Focus on him coming home in a few weeks. Then you can talk about him wanting to or not wanting to go back and do it again."

"I couldn't. . . I couldn't go through this again. I'm not like you, Felicia. I can't do this again. Our love is strong, don't get me wrong. It's just. . . I'm not strong enough. I need him, Felicia. I need Caleb."

"Abigail," she said sternly, grabbing my shoulders and making me look at her. "You need to breathe, sweetie. Everything is going to be okay. Caleb would never put you through this again. Not if he knew how this was affecting you."

She stopped talking when she saw the look on my face. "Abby," she elongated. "Caleb knows how much you're struggling. Right?"

"Sort of," I whispered. I sighed when I saw the disappointed look on her face. "He knows about my dad, but he doesn't know everything."

"So, he doesn't know how scared you are? How lonely? How you don't sleep?"

I bit my lip, shaking my head. She grabbed my hands and looked at me intently. "Honey, you have to tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him everything. He deserves to know how much of a hard time you're having."

"I can't," I stuttered. "If I do. . . I don't want to burden him with it."

"Burden him? Abigail, he loves you and deserves to know."

"I don't want to distract him. He doesn't. . . He doesn't need that."

"Doesn't need what? To know how his fiancé is feeling? To know that the love of his life is scared?"

"I just. . . I can't tell him. I know how he'll get. He'll start stressing, overthinking about things. And eventually will stop sleeping. It's better if I don't say anything to him."

She sighed when she saw the look on my face. She grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers and sent me a small smile.

"Okay," she said softly. She looked around the room before looking back at me with a small smile on her face. "I'm gonna be right back, okay? I'm gonna make sure the AC isn't on upstairs or else Syd's room will freeze."

I nodded as she walked upstairs. I slumped back into the couch and looked around the room. I always loved their house. The way it was decorated reminded me of how my mom used to decorate.

I laid down on the couch when I suddenly felt exhausted. I closed my eyes, not being able to keep them open any longer. My breathing slowed as I heard footsteps, followed by a small laugh.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart," Felicia whispered as she placed a blanket over my body.

[jasper-hale-protection-squad]

Making Twilight gay, but not with who you expect: Headcanon addition

-Bella’s entire high school friend group realizes that they’re gay and were just forcing themselves to go out with each other/ask Bella out in Mike and Eric’s case because of compulsive heterosexuality and internalized Homophobia

-Eric is the first of the guys to realize he’s gay when he plays spin the bottle at college and discovers kissing guys is way more fun/enjoyable than kissing girls. He has a few flings and one night stands, but being Asian and a nerd at University with a bunch of racist, rude assholes makes it hard to get a boyfriend 

-He drags Mike to a gay club one weekend when they’re both back in Washington and that’s when Mike gets his Awakening, surrounded by really cute guys giving him a lot of attention and all wanting to buy him drinks. He realizes it was really Bella he was jealous of the whole time and he was just pissed off that Edward wasn't kissing him. But now he has like 10 guys numbers in his phone, so TAKE THAT BELLA + EDWARD (he still cares about them both and all, he’s just angry he didn’t realize what was actually going on with him sooner). 

-Mike goes on dates with the guys who’s numbers he got and even sets Eric up with some people. They both had a short-lived relationship with a few of them, but none of them lasted. 

-Eric and Mike get drunk together one night in Eric’s apartment. Eric is an emotional drunk and ends up pouring his heart out to Mike about how he’s scared he’ll never find love, and how he’s afraid of what his parents will think. Mike tells him he’ll be there, every step of the way. His head was too far up his ass to really help Eric out in high school but he’d be damned if he let his friend get hurt again. When Mike leaves that night Eric kisses him on the cheek when they say goodbye and he has a Crisis. He can’t leave his dorm for days. And he can’t stop thinking about how nice it would have been for Eric to kiss his lips rather than his cheek. 

-They eventually get together. But it takes forever. And epic wlw intervention, provided by Angela and Jessica 

-Angela realized she liked girls her senior year. Did you see how she was looking at the Cullen’s cousins at Bella’s wedding? That girl was confident in herself. When Jessica shows up on her door one night, in tears with makeup all over her face and rambling something about how she thinks she likes girls and guys, she brings her inside and sits her down and explains to her that it’s ok. It’s ok to like guys and girls. She wasn’t broken. She told her what being bisexual meant and gave her some people to contact that she’d met at her own college that Jessica could talk to, to meet more people like her. 

-Jessica, of course, wants to experiment, because she’s Jessica, and Angela happily agrees. They kiss, do some sexual stuff Jessica is curious about, and eventually, Jessica asks Angela to be her first (and hopefully only/last/permanent) girlfriend. They aren’t nearly as clueless as Mike and Eric. They go on a lot of super cute dates, and their relationship is a lot more on the romantic side than some people would expect. 

-Both relationships work out wonderfully. Jessica and Angela get married after dating for two years, but Eric and Mike wait until after they complete their undergrads. Eric’s parents were accepting but Mike’s weren’t and he wasn’t allowed back home, so the Yorkies let him stay with them on the long breaks and vacations during college. 

-The entire Cullen family and several of their friends went to both weddings. Bella is just relieved she won’t have Mike chasing after her anymore, but Edward just smiles knowingly. Eric and Mike really hadn’t been subtle in their thoughts during locker room changes, but they’d pushed those thoughts down, and Edward was happy to see them finally be true to themselves. 

-Tyler was Eric’s best man, and Mike’s was a guy he’d met at college. Bella was Jessica’s maid of honor, and Alice was Angela’s (they bonded during the wedding planning). The toasts and speeches they gave were all emotional. Mike and Angela cried at their respective weddings. Bella also cried. Jasper would have cried if vampires could shed tears. 

-They all remained happily married, Mike and Eric adopting two kids and Angela and Jessica decided that the two of them were enough of a family. They all grew old together, and while Bella was sad to see her friends age without her she was grateful they had all gotten their happy endings. 

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                 Chapter 6:  Cleaning Up

Source:  @TeamCarisi

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Read It On AO3

They don’t ask for permission.  Kaitlyn wants fresh clothes and Mike wants fresh scenery, so they just leave his place and go to her apartment.  If someone’s watching and wants to complain, let them.  He wears a watch cap and sunglasses, just as a nod to behaving, but he grumbles even about that.  

“Friggin’ eight-and-a-half million people livin’ in this city, they think anyone’s gonna notice me.  It’s ridiculous.”

“You’re so damn cute when you’re grouchy,” Kaitlyn murmurs, snuggling closer to him in the back of their cab.  

Mike smiles despite himself. He almost falls into the familiar groove of his irritation with his situation, but it’s hard when he’s just been gloriously boned and there’s a beautiful woman smiling up at him.  “Just wait ‘til the government kidnaps you, we’ll see how cute you are” he mutters.

Mike smirks a little as they enter Kaitlyn’s apartment.  

“What?”  She asks.  

He indicates one wall of the hallway just inside her door.  “Just have some fond memories of that wall, that’s all.”

Kaitlyn rolls her eyes and tries to act annoyed, but it’s hard to hide her grin.  “Stop it.  You’ll embarrass me.”

“I doubt that very much,” he says, and pulls her to him.  “We could do it again,” he whispers into her ear.

“We could.  But there was some discussion of pancakes.”

“Couldn’t we have both?”

“Mmmmm,” Kaitlyn hums as he begins kissing down her neck.  “We absolutely could.  Which one do you want first?”

“Pancakes.  I’m going to need my strength if I’m gonna hold you up.”

Mike finds that being at Kaitlyn’s apartment is just as comfortable as being at his dad’s.  They’re both homes.  Lived in.  He’s been here before and recognizes things.  Of course, the two times he’s been in Kaitlyn’s apartment before, he spent very little time looking around, but still.  

They spend a delightful, lazy day, just enjoying each other and doing very little except making love and talking.  In the early evening, Kaitlyn’s phone rings when they’ve just woken up from a short doze and are debating getting up for a shower.  To both of their surprise, it’s Sonny Carisi.  

“Hey, Sonny.”

“Hi, Kaitlyn, just callin’ to see if you got to see Mike last night like you planned.”

“I did – listen, Sonny, can you give me just a second?  I need to check something.”

“Sure.”

Kaitlyn hits the mute icon and looks over at Mike.  “I don’t… What do you need here?  Should I call him back when you’re not here, or…”

“I’m good.  I just wanna talk to him, is all.  I guess just talk to him like normal.  As if I wasn’t here.”

“I could put him on speaker, so you can hear him, at least…”  She really doesn’t know what the right thing to do is here.

“Yeah… OK.  I’d like that.  We just won’t tell him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Kaitlyn touches the speaker icon and says, “OK, Sonny, sorry about that.  Yeah, I did get to see him.  He looks great.”  She smiles at Mike.

“How was it?  I mean, seein’ him again?  You guys handle it OK?”

“Better than OK.  It was… wonderful.  The Chief was there, just in case I freaked out or anything, but it was actually just nice.  Easy. So he left pretty quick.  Mike and I talked about you.  He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“This is such bullshit. I know Rafael was a little freaked out, but me, I’m fine!  Even Rafael’s used to the idea now.  Not as eager to see Dodds as I am, but he’s OK.  I should be able to see him.  It’s not like he’s a zombie or anything.  He never was really dead.”

Mike snickers at that, and Sonny hears him.

“What was…  Was that him?  Is he there with you?”

Kaitlyn looks at Mike, a little bit panicked.  But Mike just smiles and indicates that she should tell Sonny he’s there.

“Yeah, Sonny. Sorry.  He’s here.  He, um… well, he misses you, too, so I put you on speaker so he could hear your voice. Sorry.  Do you want me to take you off, or…?”

“Hell, no!  Tell him to talk to me!  I’m not gonna have a heart attack, promise!”

“Hi, Sonny,” Mike says, smiling even wider.

“Oh, shit!  Dodds?”

“Yeah.  And not a zombie, either, although you don’t need to worry about that.  They eat brains.”

“Holy hell!  You really are alive!  I’d know that juvenile sense of humor anywhere!  Shit, buddy, it’s so great to hear your voice!”

“Yours, too, believe me. Lookin’ forward to seein’ your ugly mug again.”

“Who’s ugly?  I’m the one married to the hottest guy in Manhattan, and you’re…  Hey, wait! Are you guys, like, together? You’re not naked right now, are you?”

Mike and Kaitlyn just laugh, because yes, they are.  

“Well, good.  I’m glad I interrupted something.  You deserve it, you fuck.  I carried your damn casket.  Thought I was gonna start bawlin’ right there in front of the Commissioner and every cop on the force.”

“I know, man.  I’m sorry.  Really.”

“Naw, I’m just…  It sucked, thinkin’ you died.  That’s all I meant.”

“Shit, you’re gonna have me bawlin’ in a minute,” Mike chuckles, but he’s clearly affected.

“Listen, if I’m mentally stable enough to talk to you on the phone, why can’t we meet and have a beer or something?  Face to face?”

“I’m not supposed to even be talking to you, dude.  I can’t go out in public yet.  Two more days.”

Kaitlyn interrupts.  “Could he come here?” She asks softly.

Mike gets a look on his face like a naughty schoolboy.  He’s really enjoying breaking the rules, now that the whole thing is almost over and the feds are probably not going to throw his ass in Leavenworth for a few minor infractions at the end.  

“Carisi, Kaitlyn says you could come over here.  That’d be OK, I think, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

“Fuck, yeah!”  Sonny cries.  “Can I bring Rafael?”

“Of course,” Mike laughs. “But make sure he’s really ready. It’s fine if he needs to wait.”

“I’ll ask him, but I know what he’ll say.  He’ll gripe at me for treatin’ him like some delicate flower.”

Mike laughs fondly.  “You guys sound like an old married couple.”

“I’ll text you my address,” Kaitlyn says happily.  “But you’ll need to bring alcohol.  I think I have one Corona and the dregs of a bottle of vodka.”

“You got it,” Sonny squeals, and he sounds like an overexcited kid.  “We’re leavin’ now!”

Mike and Kaitlyn laugh as they hang up.  Kaitlyn texts Sonny her address and then joins Mike in the shower.  

 Sonny and Mike hug for a long time.  They’re both a little teary, and neither’s trying to hide it.  

“You have no idea, man,” Mike says quietly when they finally let go.

Sonny squeezes his shoulder. “I can imagine.  It’s good to have you home.  Missed the hell out of you.”

Rafael holds out a hand to shake, which is so Rafael that Mike has to laugh.  Still, they can all see the emotion in Barba’s face as he shakes Mike’s hand heartily.  “Welcome home,” he says.

“Let’s drink!”  Sonny shouts merrily, taking the large, brown paper bag Rafael’s been holding.  

They all troop down the hall to Kaitlyn’s tiny kitchen, where Sonny pulls beer and a bottle of scotch from the bag and sets them on the counter.  

“Wow!”  Mike exclaims when he sees the scotch.  “Twelve-year-old Macallan!”

“Damn right,” Sonny crows. “We’re celebrating!”

As soon as they all have drinks, they head back to the living room and find comfortable seats. Sonny and Rafael are next to each other on the couch and Mike’s on a big, soft easy chair next to it.  Kaitlyn feels a little like an interloper at first, but it’s fun to listen to them talk shop.  It’s clear that Sonny and Mike have a deep respect for one another as well as a firm friendship, and it’s equally clear that Sonny and Rafael are insanely happy together.  Besides, she’s feeling a warm joy that the excellent scotch only makes better.

After a while, Sonny and Mike start reminiscing about a case they investigated that didn’t result in any charges being filed, which means Rafael wasn’t involved.  He turns to Kaitlyn then and asks her about law school.  He’s just being polite at first, but soon they’re chatting away and telling horror stories and Kaitlyn realizes that her first impression of Rafael Barba was right.  He’s someone she could really come to like.  

When they realize they’ve both finished their drinks, Kaitlyn asks if he’d like a refill, which causes him to hem and haw a little – he and Sonny have to work tomorrow – but in the end, he agrees.  He takes Sonny’s glass from his hand without a word, and Sonny lets him with a fleeting, affectionate grin.  The wordless communication between them is adorable.  Kaitlyn, however, has to ask Mike what he wants.  He asks for a beer.  

In the kitchen, Kaitlyn pops the caps off of two beers while Rafael pours another scotch for himself and Sonny.  

“You guys seem really happy,” she says, making conversation.

“I’ll be happier when he passes the bar and starts practicing law.”

“How long now?”

“He graduates in June, then there’s the bar.”

“And until then, he’s on the street getting shot at.”  It’s a guess, but she can see immediately she’s right.

“Exactly.”

“Huh.  You’re not making dating a cop seem very attractive.”

Rafael turns to Kaitlyn and leans against the counter, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s not for the faint-hearted, you know.”

Kaitlyn frowns.  “This is going to sound insane, given that Mike’s actually been killed in the line of duty once,” she makes a face to acknowledge that for the poor joke it is.  “But I hadn’t really thought about that until right this minute.”

“Well, think about it. Because it’s real.  You’ve never dated a cop before?”

“Believe it or not, with all the cops in my life, and working for the NYPD, I never have.  No lawyers, either.”

“Who’s left?”  Barba asks with a smirk.

“Honestly, I don’t date much.  Never have. I did date a financial adviser once, and a plumber.”

“Those could come in handy.”

“Yeah.  I liked the plumber, too.  That lasted a while.”

“I dated a zookeeper once.”

“No way!”

“He ended up being a complete moron, but I got to pet an elephant.  It was worth it.”  

Kaitlyn laughs and Rafael picks up Sonny’s drink.  “Just be careful, Kaitlyn.  Dating a cop is not like dating a normal guy.  It can get tough.”

“I appreciate the heads up. Thanks.”

When they step back into the living room, Rafael hands Sonny his drink and sits back down next to him. Kaitlyn hands Mike his beer.  She doesn’t go back to her chair.  Instead, she sits down on the floor in front of his chair, between his shins, where she can be touching him.  She hadn’t liked sitting all the way across the room from him, even though it’s a small room.  Uh-oh, she thinks.  I might be falling for this guy.  

*********

Resuming a life after being declared dead comes with a host of unexpected complications, some nearly insurmountable.  It ends up taking a month and the intervention of some fairly highly-placed officials in the Justice Department before the New York Department of Motor Vehicles finally admits that Mike is, in fact, alive, and reissues his drivers’ license.  The pencil-pushers in Human Resources at the NYPD are similarly stubborn about accepting that Mike’s Social Security number is valid.

Kaitlyn has a grand time with that one.  Whatever system they run Social Security numbers through tells them that the holder of that number is dead.  Never mind that they’ve all seen the news and know he’s not; the computer says he’s dead, so dead he is.  There are all kinds of new requirements for proof of employability after 9/11, and the NYPD’s HR Director keeps squawking about his responsibilities under the Patriot Act and not wanting Homeland Security on his ass.  As it turns out, he ends up getting Homeland Security on his ass anyway, because Kaitlyn puts them there.  

At her suggestion, Mike contacts his former boss, who isn’t surprised to hear from him; there are always problems with re-entry.  He connects Kaitlyn with a guy named Jack DeReuter, who is an agent from the New York office of some federal agency he declines to name.  Kaitlyn is endlessly amused by the fact that Jack DeReuter looks exactly like Agent Smith from The Matrix, and the two bond, so he lets her be present when he meets with the HR Director.  Kaitlyn later makes Mike cry with laughter by describing the meeting, during which Agent DeReuter goes full-on Fed and makes the HR Director whimper in fear and, finally, declare Mike Dodds once again fully employed by the NYPD.  

After that, beating the life insurance company into submission is a little bit of an anticlimax. Mike finds it hilarious that, since life insurance is an automatic benefit of employment with the NYPD, somewhere in the same company there’s someone issuing Mike a policy while someone else is insisting he’s dead and what does Kaitlyn mean, Mike needs to refund the death benefits?  Once Kaitlyn gets a hold of the right person at the company, though, it’s easy.  And as it turns out, Agent DeReuter has told her that, in these situations, the government doesn’t look to the family to repay the money.  They just cut a check to the insurance company for the amount of the benefits paid, and everybody’s happy.  

So Mike’s dad gives him the life insurance money – it’s just been sitting in a bank account, anyway, because he couldn’t bear to touch it – which means Mike can make a serious down payment on a new apartment.  He wastes no time finding a new place and getting out of the terrible apartment the feds put him in.  In fact, he never spends another night there.

Which leaves work, and that’s easy, too.  Chief Dodds makes sure Mike gets his place at SVU back, because that’s what Mike wants.  And just like that, Mike Dodds is alive again.  

But it’s not that easy.

Three days after returning to SVU, Mike comes home late, exhausted and disgusted from getting nowhere after seven hours interrogating a guy he knows is guilty.  It’s bugging him.  Not only because the guy’s a filthy perv, but because he used to be better at this.  He knows he was.  Now, he’s lost an entire year and he feels like a rookie detective again.  It’s infuriating and it brings back a lot of ugly feelings about what’s happened.

As he opens the door to his new apartment, he sees that all the lights are on and he hears enthusiastic but charmingly off-key singing.  He smiles for the first time in several hours.  Kaitlyn’s there – he gave her a key the day he closed on the place – standing on a ladder in cut-off jean shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt that are both absolutely slathered in paint.  She’s painting the wall, too, he notices, but he’s more interested in the incredible amount of paint she’s managed to get on her clothes, on her skin, in her hair…  

He’d call to her, but it’s obvious she won’t hear him, because he can hear the faint, tinny sound of music coming from her earbuds, and she’s singing loudly.  He can’t help it.  He pulls out his phone and starts recording her.  He’s not going to show the video to anyone – probably.  He’s just going to tease her about it and maybe hold it for some kind of sexual ransom.  

He’s thinking about that, smiling and chuckling, when she finally looks down from what she’s doing and sees him.

“Oh, I know you are not recording me right now, Mike Dodds.  Because if you are…”

“If I am, what?”  He asks, and doesn’t put down the phone or stop recording.

“I’ll think of something. You gotta sleep sometime,” she says in the most threatening tone she can manage while she’s grinning against her will.

“You’re covered in paint. You know that, right?”

She smiles and looks down at herself.  “I know. I always get more everywhere else than on the walls.  That’s why you’ll notice I draped the hell out of the floor.”

“Good thing I don’t own anything, huh?”

“I’d tarp it.  Trust me, I know my weaknesses.  And you’re becoming one of ‘em.  So if you don’t want paint all over that nice suit, you better take it off.”

Mike gives Kaitlyn a warning look, but starts to pull his jacket off.  “Don’t you dare.  This is about half the work clothes I currently own.”

“You know I find you irresistible.  So if you refuse to take your clothes off and they get ruined, it’s not my fault.  It’s yours.  You’ve been warned.”  

He laughs tiredly.  “You about to knock off for the night?  I’m beat.”

“Yeah.  Just gotta clean up.  Hey, are you OK?  You really do look tired.”

She starts to deal with the leftover paint and used brushes and rollers while they talk.

“Rough day. Long.  I’m used to that, but…”

“But…?”

“I just feel like I’ve been gone a long time.  Interrogation used to be instinctive for me.  Now, I’m trying to think of what to ask, what’ll get the guy to tell me what I need to know.  I looked like a bozo in there today.  I could tell Liv was concerned.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“Of course not-“

“Then you don’t know. Could’ve been your imagination.”

“It wasn’t. Fuck!  I had a whole year of my life stolen, and now I gotta re-learn everything.  And I’m supposed to be a Sergeant, not some damn rookie.  And the more I think about it, the more pissed I get.  Again.”  

“You have every right to be pissed, Mike.”

“I don’t want to be pissed!  I just want to get on with things.  Forget all that shit happened.  But everywhere I turn, there’s something to remind me.  It’s gonna take me months to get back to where I was at work…”

“But you will.”

“Well, what about you and me?  We lost a whole year together!  By now, who knows where we would’ve been?”

“We’re here now.”

Mike looks at Kaitlyn from under his eyebrows.  “You’re not gonna let me feel shitty tonight, are you?”

Kaitlyn doesn’t say anything as she hammers the lid back onto the paint can.  The look on her face tells Mike she‘s planning her next words carefully.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to feel.  I’m sorry if it seems like that.  I guess, if anything, I was trying to cheer you up.  But maybe that’s not what you need?  If you feel shitty, then I’ll just be here with you while you feel shitty.”

“I don’t know what I need.”

“Well, I know that I need a shower.  And I need an accomplice to help me get the paint out of my hair.  You wanna feel shitty in the shower?”  

“Yeah, I guess.  Sorry I’m not better company.”

“Baby, I’ve seen you naked.  If you’ll be naked in the shower, you’ll be good company, no matter what kind of mood you’re in.”

Mike follows Kaitlyn into the hallway where the bedroom and bathroom are.  She goes into the bathroom and starts the shower while he deals with his suit.  

Minutes later, he opens the door to the shower enclosure to see her standing, just luxuriating in water so hot it takes him a moment to get used to it. He spends that moment just admiring her long legs, paint splotches and all, and the way her breasts jut out as she arches back to let the water wash the paint out of her hair.  He really is tired, and it really has been a rough day. But it’s hard to feel too badly about it right this minute.

Mike reaches out and pours a handful of shampoo into his hand. “Here, let me.”

He pulls her to him with one hand while he reaches the other to the top of her head and begins smoothing the shampoo over her hair. When she’s standing against him, arms around him, he uses both hands to work the shampoo through her long, dark hair while she hums, eyes closed.  His strong fingers massage her head while he enjoys the feeling of her nakedness pressed against him, and discovers that it’s possible to wash a woman’s hair and kiss her at the same time, if you’re careful.  

Mike makes sure all the paint’s gone from her hair and scrubs every bit from her skin.  Then it’s her turn.  Kaitlyn can reach to wash Mike’s hair if she stands on her tiptoes, which means she has to lean against him to keep her balance, which neither one of them minds.  She starts there.  When his hair’s washed, she takes the bar of soap and lathers his neck, arms and chest, using long strokes and taking her time.  Then she turns him around and washes his back.   She works his muscles as she soaps him, giving him the best massage she can when they’re standing up in the shower.  

From there, she washes his lower half, spending perhaps a bit more time on his butt than is entirely necessary, but being very thorough as she lathers up the soap and smooths it over his legs.  After that, she turns him around and starts at his waist, washing him very thoroughly from waist to toes, with a great deal of attention to rubbing lathery hands all over his cock and balls until he’s completely stiff.

That’s when she puts the soap away and goes to her knees.  He groans as she takes him into her mouth, gently fondling his balls as she does.  She uses her tongue, swirling it around his head and tonguing his slit before sliding her mouth down his shaft with a suction that has him gasping as he braces himself against the warm tile wall.  He closes his eyes and loses all track of time, aware only of the sensation of her indecently talented mouth pleasuring his cock.  He’s probably saying things about how good it feels.  Probably moaning, too.  But he’s not paying any attention to himself.  Suddenly, he’s glad he’s tired, because it lets him enjoy the hot pressure of her lips and tongue for a long time before she starts flicking tiny butterfly caresses against his hole, and he loses it, erupting with a shout into her greedy mouth.  

He’s spent.  He leans there on the wall while she stands and puts her arms around him, kissing his chest and muttering endearments.  It’s many minutes before he has the energy to get out of the shower and dry off, and he’s half asleep already as they brush their teeth.

He hates what the past year did to his family, and his friends, and his life.  But right this minute, lying on the bare floor in a pile of blankets and pillows because he hasn’t bought a bed yet, he’s about as satisfied as a man can be.  He holds Kaitlyn’s warm, naked body against his, both arms around her and legs intertwined.  

Just as he falls asleep, he hears himself whisper, “I love you, Kaity.”

He’s pretty sure he hears her say she loves him, too.

[dicktective]

can someone please write the stenbrough ww2 fic that needs to exist?

all of the boys are drafted into the war and meet for the first time when they’re assigned to the same battalion or brigade or regiment or whatever. idk i don’t know a lot about war or even specific details about ww2 so just bear with me. i imagine they spend a lot of time in eastern europe or maybe france but i’m fine with wherever. whatever makes sense. ok stick with me here...

bill and ben are childhood friends. they leave behind, bev. bev writes to both bill and ben. at first bill loves writing lengthy letters back, describing everything in detail. after a while, when the patriotism starts to wear off and the realities of war start to set in, he writes less and less. until he just stops. ben, of course, keeps writing and bev asks after bill but eventually that stops too. bill had loved writing and the war took that from him

the boys are in the trenches, obviously. richie the comic relief, of course. he and eddie always bickering in the background. mike being the person that everyone trusts and listens to even though he hasn’t been promoted above them or anything. 

one night, when things have settled down and they’re all getting drunk, celebrating, stan and bill go back to the tent they share, ribbing each other about something, and they are about to go to their separate cots but they decide to have one more drink and stand too close together over their small make shift table. the lantern there sending flashing shadows across the canvas of their tent. bill leaning in closer to point something out on the label of the unopened foreign beer they somehow managed to get. looking up to see if stan recognizes the word (because he speaks a little french) realizing that they’re close enough to breathe each other’s air. stan frowning at the bottle, hand going around the neck to hold it still, fingers brushing against bill’s, when he looks over to bill and notices too, freezing. bill trying to set the bottle down without pulling his eye’s away from stan’s face and the bottle clattering sideways onto the ground and rolling away as bill’s hand grips the back of stan’s neck and pulls him in for a rough, drunk kiss. the lantern still flickering on the table as they move to one of their cots together.

it happens a few more times: drunk, sober. desperately when they have a few minutes alone. quiet and slow when they have a night before they’re moving again the next day. packing up their camp for something that has rumors going through the ranks that it’s going to get bad again.

(eddie dies as the war comes to a close. richie is never the same and bill wonders if maybe... maybe they...)

they go home and bill and ben go back to bev. and, when he had left, it was kind of assumed that he could come back and she and bill would get married. they don’t. one day he picks up a pen and piece of paper and he begins writing again... a letter. a few weeks later he receives one back from stan.

ben and bev get married eventually. bill and stan end up in the same city years later, just down the street from each other. both married, they reconnect but don’t pick up where they had left off in europe. lots of almost kisses, gentle touches, lingering looks. (essentially emotional infidelity tbh oop)

while stan is happily married to patty, they eventually get divorced because the strain of not having children is too much on their relationship. he and bill still write each other letters even though they see each other fairly often.

THEN? idk. maybe stan’s letters start to become explicitly romantic now that he’s divorced and bill realizes how unhappy he is in his marriage, triggered by that and by audra saying she doesn’t think he should waste his time writing a book when he mentions it’s something he’d like to do. on top of the handful of other things. idk. just give me a happy ending in spite of the time period.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Second Chances - A Benverly Post- IT: Chapter Two Fanfic

Summary: After everything is over, Ben finally asks Beverly about the bruises he noticed on her arm the night they arrived back in town.

Warnings: 2 uses of the F-bomb (if you've seen the movie you guys know Richie has a mouth like a sailor so that's not too bad, all things considering) and non-graphic allusions to spousal abuse. Bonus Reddie feels, although Eddie is still dead, guys.

Word Count: 2100-ish.

Author’s Note: I wish we would've gotten more sweet Benverly togetherness in Chapter Two, but that's what fanfic is for, right? Whipped this up, gave it a read-thru, and here you guys are. Enjoy.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 (Coming soon).

Ben Hanscom stood in a small circle with his childhood friends inside the underground clubhouse he had built during the summer they had all met, the summer that had been both of one of the best & one of the worst summers of Ben's life-- although he hadn't known it at the time. He had met Bev, Bill, Richie, Mike, Stan, and Eddie, who along with Ben collectively formed the Losers Club. During that summer Ben had also battled an evil demonic clown, wrote the first-- and last-- love poem he had ever anonymously sent someone, and had his first kiss (well, sorta). Unfortunately for Ben the person with whom he shared his first kiss was, at the time, incapacitated due to said evil demonic clown, and the poem was incorrectly attributed to someone else.

The Losers had scattered after that summer. Bev had gone to live with relatives out of state, Eddie had been dragged off to a new town by his mom, and eventually the rest of the Losers moved off as well, forgetting about Derry, that summer… and each other.

All except for Mike. He had stayed, and when It had resurfaced 27 years later, he had gathered the Losers Club to fight It again, this time defeating It for good. However, defeating It had come with a price. This time, Stan hadn't made it back to Derry and Eddie hadn't made it to the end.

Ben glanced around the circle. Each of his fellow remaining Losers were, like him, puffy-eyed and tear-streaked. They had agreed to meet one last time on their way out of town -- Bill was heading back west with the new, 'happier' ending for the film that was being made out of one of his books.  Mike had decided since It was really and truly gone that he was moving on to Florida. Richie was heading back to L.A. Beverly… Actually Ben didn't know exactly what Beverly's plans were. He knew she needed to go back to Chicago to 'wrap up some loose ends' but had no idea what her plans were beyond that.

It had taken 27 years, but Bev had finally figured out that Ben was the one who had written her the poem. Besides that underwater kiss at the Quarry though they hadn't discussed the poem or the fact that Ben had carried around the yearbook page that Beverly had signed in his wallet.

The Losers were currently holding an impromptu memorial service for Stan and Eddie before going their separate ways, and each had shared a memory about Stan and Eddie, respectively.  Ben had gone first, then Mike, then Bill and Beverly, until finally it was Richie's turn as the last Loser to share. Ben listened with a chuckle as Richie reminisced about Stan's bar mitzvah, when Stan had basically told all of the adults in the congregation to go fuck themselves, and now he was about to say something about Eddie. Richie sniffled. "I have to tell you guys something."

The rest of the Losers waited patiently.

Richie took a deep breath. "I'm gay, and when we were kids I was in love with Eddie. I was head-over-heels in love with him, and I never got a chance to tell him before he moved away. Then we came back here and all my old feelings for him came rushing back like I was 13 again."

Ben placed a hand on Richie's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. He could relate--well, not the being gay part, but being in love with someone and not directly getting to tell them how he felt before it was too late. Fortunately for Ben, however, he had a second chance.

January embers

He quickly glanced over at Beverly, who was watching Richie speak with fresh tears in her eyes.

"He saved us," Richie continued. "Telling us about choking the leper and making it small… if it hadn't been for him then none of us would've made it out. But Eddie deserved to make it out too. He deserved to live..." He broke down into sobs. 

Ben and Beverly both moved to wrap Richie in a hug as he cried, and Mike and Bill placed encouraging hands on his back. 

When Richie seemed to have calmed down somewhat, Ben asked, "You ok, man?"

Richie nodded. "Eddie should've been here celebrating with the rest of us. I never got a chance to tell him how I felt before he died, but I figure if I at least tell our best friends, it'll make not getting to tell him hurt just a little bit less."

He sighed. "Life is short -- I missed my chance with Eddie, but don't you guys pass up the opportunity to tell the ones you love how you feel."

With one final sniffle he wiped his eyes. "I made all those jokes about banging Eddie's mom when we were kids when really all I wanted to do was bang Eddie," he joked.

Ben couldn't help but smile.

Bill's phone went off with an alert. "Shoot, guys. I hate to cut this short but Richie and I have a flight back to L.A. in an hour."

"I should probably get going too," Mike added.

Ben and the rest of the Losers gave them each a brief hug. "We'll stay in touch this time," Bill promised as he gave Beverly a hug, and Ben couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy before chastising himself. Bill is your friend, you ass. What he and Beverly had ended long ago. Besides, Bill is happily married.  Beverly was married too, but from what Ben had gathered he suspected it wasn't too happily.

He watched as Bill and Mike climbed up the ladder to the surface, followed soon by Richie. As Richie's footsteps faded, Ben could hear Beverly say, "I think he knew."

He turned to her. "What?"

Beverly gestured toward the ladder. "Eddie. I think he knew how Richie felt about him, and I think he felt the same way about Richie." She sighed. "They would've been happy together."

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I could see it too between them. The way they would look at each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking." That hit a little too close to home, he thought.

He cleared his throat before changing the subject. "Hey, can I ask you about something? Something personal. And it's ok if you don't want to talk about it, but…" he trailed off.

Beverly nodded and took a seat on the bench that Ben had made their sophomore year of high school, after Beverly had left and Ben started getting more into architecture in order to keep his mind occupied. She patted the spot next to her.

Ben took a seat and was silent for a few moments while he collected his thoughts. How do I go about this? 

Finally, he decided that the direct approach would probably be best. "When we got here… back to Derry, I mean… I noticed bruises on your arm at dinner. Then when you flinched away from me… Is everything ok, Bev?"

Beverly paled and wouldn't make eye contact with Ben, instead choosing to look at the floor. "Tom… my husband… he wasn't very happy that I was leaving so suddenly," she explained. "We-- we got into a fight, and he-- he--" she broke off.

Ben stiffened. "Was that the first time?"

"No," Beverly whispered, then started crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Ben said gently, slowly reaching for Bev and giving her plenty of time to back away. Instead of rejecting his offer of comfort, however, Beverly leaned into Ben's embrace, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as her body wracked with sobs. "There's absolutely no need to apologize for anything. None of anything that you have gone through is your fault, okay? None of it. Not the shit we went through with Pennywise, or anything your dad or your husband put you through. You hear me? None of it was your fault and you have every right to be upset." Ben stroked Bev's hair soothingly as he held her. "You're safe with me, Bev. You're safe. I swear on my life that as long as I am breathing no one will ever harm you again." 

Beverly hiccuped. "Thank you," she whispered, tightening her hold on Ben. "Thank you." She sniffled and leaned back to look at him face-to-face.

When they were kids Ben had thought that Beverly was a beautiful girl; now he thought that she was a beautiful woman. He wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, letting his hands gently rest on her cheeks. "You deserve all the happiness in the world," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Beverly reached up to wrap her hands around Ben's. "I should have realized all those years ago that you were the one who wrote me the poem."

Ben tilted his head to the side. "How do you figure?"

Beverly smirked. "Bill's a great writer but he's no poet, Eddie and Richie were too busy arguing and making moony eyes at each other to be interested in anyone else, Stan probably either would've been too nervous to leave the note or would've 'fessed up almost immediately, and Mike was just trying to survive the summer-- I don't think he even thought of me as a girl at the time." She paused. "But you… you saw me, didn't you? You've always seen me. Your hair is winter fire," she recited. "January embers."

"My heart burns there too," Ben finished. "Still does. Always has in fact, although I didn't always quite remember why I was carrying around a yearbook page with only one signature on it."

Beverly smiled. "It's ok, New Kid," she said, then the next thing Ben knew Beverly was kissing him.

Their second (okay, technically third) kiss was even better than their first (okay, second). Considering the fact that Beverly was still in the Deadlights' thrall and wasn't even conscious for the first one as kids, Ben figured that shouldn't even count. Their first kiss as adults, shared under the dirty water of the quarry, paled in comparison to the feel of Beverly's lips on his own at that moment.

For a split second Ben thought maybe this was all another Pennywise-induced hallucination, then had the brief notion that maybe he had died in the battle and somehow made it to heaven instead of whatever hellscape Pennywise inhabited.

He realized it was neither when Beverly ran her fingers through his hair and gave it a slight tug, making him moan.

"Jesus, Bev," he muttered, pulling her into his lap and seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly they heard a voice:

"It's about fuckin' time!"

They whipped their heads around to see Richie, Bill, and Mike, all watching them with shit-eating grins on their faces.

"What are you guys doing back here?" Ben asked as Bev giggled and buried her face in his neck.

Richie gestured to a now-blushing Bill. "Billy here forgot his wallet, so we came back down to get it. Didn't know we were gonna get a show as well."

"Beep beep, Richie," Bill said.

Richie ignored him. "So this is finally happening, huh? You two gonna ride off into the sunset together?"

Ben shrugged then looked at Bev, who was biting her kiss-swollen bottom lip to keep from laughing. "The man's got a point... What do you say? Come to Nebraska with me?"

Bev seemed to consider it for a few moments."I have a few things to take care of in Chicago first, so would you mind stopping off there on the way?"

"Bev, I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth and beyond if you asked me to," Ben said honestly.

Bev's answering smile made Ben fall just a little bit more in love with her.

"Okay, well, that's our exit," Bill, who had snuck over to the corner and retrieved his wallet from the table, said. "Come on, guys, let's leave them alone."

"Congratulations, you two," Mike said before heading back up the ladder. 

"We'll see you guys again soon," Bill added before following.

"And remember," Richie yelled down as he disappeared out of sight, "practice safe sex!"

Ben shook his head fondly. "Richie is such an asshole."

"Yeah," Beverly agreed with a grin, "but he's our asshole."

"True." Ben bit his lip and slid his hands up Beverly's sides. "Now, were were we?"

Beverly smirked. "I believe about right here," she replied as she sought Ben's lips out once more.

[katecarteir]

SEMI CHARMED LIFE

summary: “You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

chapter count: 1/?

Ben Hanscom kicked at the dirt path alongside the Barrens. It was as just as obviously a foot-made path as it had been twelve years earlier, the last time Ben had walked down here. Back then, he had never been walking alone- always flanked with two or more of his friends from youth.

For safety, Ben remembered bitterly. It had been little Eddie Kaspbrak who had made the first statement, that nobody should go into the Barrens alone, after Ben had been attacked that day. They hadn’t even been my friends, Ben thought to himself. He picked at long, overgrown yellowing grass alongside the path. I’d only known Beverly then, but they’d stood by me. Stole supplies for me. Even though it put them higher on Henry Bowers’ shit list.

Henry Bowers… Ben let out a shaky laugh, pressing his hand against the long faded scar on his stomach. It was barely visible now days, over a decade faded in age and dimmed with the loss of his childhood weight. That day, though undoubtably terrible, had been the last day for many years that Ben Hanscom had been able to say he didn’t have any friends.

Those same friends that Ben hadn’t been spoken to near on a decade, people he’d considered to be his soul mates and thought he’d never separate from. They’d graduated high school, moved across the country, and by the time the summer of 1996 rolled around- they didn’t even speak at all.

Until Derry High School had sent out the e-mails, announcing that in the May of 2005 that they would be holding a 10 year reunion for the graduates of 1995. Mike Hanlon had reached out not long after that. Ben had a Facebook, used it for his work, and had looked up his former friends after hearing from Mike. Most of them had not taken the leap to website, but two had.

Richie Tozier, who seemed to embraced his given name of Richard, seemed to only have work friends on his Facebook as well. He’d gone into work with radio, such a Richie job Ben had thought fondly when he’d realized. There was a slight illusion of some sort of serious relationship on Richie’s Facebook, if just from small comments of his own and that of his friends. He didn’t list a relationship status, nor any name of the radio station he worked for. Ben had scrolled through Richie’s page for his entire lunch break and still hadn’t reached the end.

Beverly Marsh had also gone online with Facebook, but had taken a longer time for Ben to find. At some point in the last ten years, Beverly had gone and tied the knot. Her Facebook name now fell under Bev Rogan and was listed as Married to Thomas Rogan. Her privacy settings were much higher than Richie’s- which had easily been non-existent, so Ben hadn’t been able to see any of her personal posts. He supposed that was for the best, if the uncomfortable feeling in his gut at just the thought of Beverly being married had anything to say about it- he wouldn’t have been able to look at Beverly’s happy life.

Ben moved himself up the steep hill, and walked back to his patiently waiting cab. His overly friendly driver grinned up at in the rearview mirror. “Anything interesting down there?” He asked him happily.

“Yeah, yes,” Ben said, voice croaking. “I was just…” An image of bulky thick rimmed glasses, and burning red hair flashed in Ben’s mind. “Just visiting some old ghosts.”  

→  →  →

“Just not too hot!” Eddie Kaspbrak was calling over his shoulder as his husband was attempting to assure him out the front door. “You know not to make it too hot, it’s really important. If it’s too hot, it’ll-“

“Eddie, sweetheart,” Maggie Tozier laughed happily, patting her starting to winkle hand against Eddie’s soft cheek. “I’ve done this once or twice. You don’t have anything to worry about, sweetie. Go see your friends, have good time.”

“Yes, I-” Eddie nodded, feeling Richie’s arm coming to rest around his waist. “I know, I know. But we have a very particular schedule we’ve been working with and if it’s-“

“Okay,” Richie pressed a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek then grinned at his mother. “We’re going to get going, before we’re late and Eddie says something rude that he doesn’t mean.” Eddie grumbled, but flushed and leaned into his husband’s gentle touch. “Love you, Ma. Thanks so much for doing this. Tell Dad we’ll go out for a drink before we head home.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “He’s your father. Tell him yourself.” Richie gave a matching eye roll, ushering Eddie out of the door and shutting it behind them.

→  →  →

“Who’s a good boy?” Mike Hanlon cooed as his six month old golden retriever, Henry, jumped up on him with his paws landing in Mike’s awaiting hands. “You are! You’re the goodest boy!”

Mike’s boyfriend, Alexander, padded into the farm house’s kitchen in his flannel house coat with a steaming cup of what could only be coffee in his hand. He grinned at Mike and shook his head. “Don’t say things like that. You’re going to give the other animals a complex.”

Mike beamed. “They can’t hear me from in here.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mike and Alexander had been together going on two years now. Six months earlier, Mike’s father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer Disease, and when Mike had expected to loose out on the best relationship of his life because of the time he’d be (willingly) giving up to care for his father, Alexander had surprised him for the millionth time since Mike had met him. He’d jumped right into the situation, moving his things into the Hanlon’s farmhouse and taking up what Mike felt might be a little more than his shared of responsibilities.

“When are you meeting your friends?” Alexander asked, jumping to sit up on the countertop with his legs dangling.

Mike sighed, scooping his pup into his arms and pressing his face into his fur. “Soon. Really soon. I should get going if I’m going to make into town in time.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Wasn’t this whole get up your idea? Why do you seem so reluctant to actually go?”

Mike walked forward and dropped Henry into his boyfriend’s ready open arms. “I’m not reluctant… I’m definitely excited to see them. It’s just… it’s been a long time, you know? I guess I’m nervous.”

Alexander nodded, scratching behind Henry’s floppy ear. “I don’t think you need to be worried. If even half the things you told me about your old friends are true, you’re going to click back to who you were immediately.”

→  →  →

Beverly Rogan had stepped off the train in Derry and had absolutely no idea what the hell she was doing. The town of Derry hadn’t changed in the decade since she’d turned her away from it and never looked back. Same stores that looked like they hadn’t been renovated since the 1960s, same people on the streets giving her dirty looks- just a little bit older. She hadn’t even come back to this place when her father had died six years earlier, and could barely explain to herself why she was coming back now. It certainly wasn’t to celebrate her days at Derry High School.

She hadn’t been able to explain it to her husband, either. Tom didn’t like surprises, and he very much did not like surprises that including his wife packing up half her belongings and getting on a train. Belongings she was still carrying on with her, which was only drawing more eyes to her. Tom Rogan was a good guy, but as Beverly had learned slowly- not the best husband. He was neglectful and didn’t’ seem to have any idea of how to make a person truly happy. She’d walked out to return to her high school reunion, and didn’t know she if she’d been walking out on her marriage overall.

Beverly stood outside the old Dancing Clown diner, knowing that she was early, knowing that she’d never given Mike a straight answer on whether or not she was coming. Inhaling deeply, she started up to the building and went inside.

→  →  →

Bill Denbrough tripped and nearly fell down the flight of stairs at parents house. He bounced into the living room, trying to stuff his foot into a sock. His twenty-one year old brother barely even looked up from video game and let out a laugh. “Ha. Fucking loser.”

“You’re one to talk,” Bill shot back, licking his lips and frowning to try to keep himself from stuttering. It was never as bad as when he was back in Derry, there were times when he could years without stuttering if he didn’t make a home visit. “When’s the last time you got off that cuh-couch?”

George held up a half eaten Pizza Pocket and shook it in display. Bill made a disgusted noise and looked over at his father, who’d yet to glance up from his book since breakfast that morning. Turning away, Bill grabbed a jacket from rack by the front door and shrugged it on. The air was still crisp in Maine this early in May, he was lucky Audra had thought to bring them. Despite being the native Maine-r, Bill often forgot what life was like living in Maine. It sometimes felt almost like a repression, and everything was burning into his mind that second he crossed into the state like. Never mind once they’d ridden into Derry.

Bill and Audra had spent the better part of the last year in England, sending their belongings to their unlived in New York apartment while themselves and enough things for the weekend made their way to Derry.

“You’re leaving now?” Audra asked, appearing by Bill’s side as he started putting his boots on. He looked up at his girlfriend of three years and smiled at her. “Have fun, I hope your friends are as awesome as you remember them being. When you get back, there’s something I’ve got to talk to you about.”

“No, no no, hey no,” Bill stood up straight and took Audra’s hands into his own. “You can’t pull that on me, baby. You know I’ll be able to do is worry about what you’re going to tell me the whole time. Just tell me now.”

Audra smiled. “You don’t need to worry about it right now.”

“But I will, if you don’t tell me what it is?” Bill said, rubbing his thumbs against the backs of Audra’s hands. “Please just tell me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

→  →  →

“Are you going to go inside?” Patty Blum asked, taping the steering wheel and making her engagement ring flash in the sunlight that cast through the car window.

“Maybe.” Stanley Uris replied, picking at his peeling bottom and staring out at the Dancing Clown diner. “Definitely maybe.”

Patty sighed, part annoyed, part fond and turned off the car. She twisted in her seat and gave her fiancée the stare down. ‘If you didn’t want to come here, why didn’t you say so?”

Stan made a loud and offended noise. “I did say so! I said so very many times actually! You just ignored me, packs our backs for us and told me to stop being dramatic.” Stan crossed his arms and goodness nearly pouted.

Patty rolled her eyes. “You were being dramatic. I’m still not sure what your issue is… why are you so afraid of seeing your old friends?”

Stan pressed his head against the head rest of the seat. “I did some shit that I’m not proud of. My best friend… I… I was so desperate to get away from this place, and I kind of betrayed him.”

“So, you’re not going to go in there because you’re afraid of your high school best friend that you stabbed in the back ten years ago?” Patty chuckled. “If it’s eating you up this badly, I can promise he’s moved on. You’re going to go in there, and you’re talk to him, and you’re going find out all the amazing things he’s done since this stupid betrayal that probably means nothing now. And you’ll tell him yours, and he’ll be happy for you and if he’s not- then fuck him.”

Stan cupped Patty’s cheek and kissed her lightly. “Have I told you yet today that I love you?”

“Mmm once or twice,” Patty said lightly. “But it’s always nice to hear it. Now go get em, baby. Call me if you need somebody to pick you up.”

Stan nodded, slipped out of the car and walked into the old diner. His eyes moved through until it fell onto what had once been the Losers Table and saw an all too familiar looking red head seated. Grinning to himself, he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and stepped up beside the table. Beverly looked like she walked straight to the diner from however she’d gotten into town, her bags all jammed underneath the table.

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in?” Stan said in a happy voice that he hoped didn’t sound too forced. Forced or not, Beverly beamed at his greeting and quickly jumped to her feet. Even in high school, Bev had been shorter than Stan and that had been before Stan had hit that oh so rare growth spurt in his freshman year of college.  

“Stanley!” Beverly said cheerfully, squeezing his hips. “Stan the MAN! Look at you! You’ve got to be as tall as Richie now!”

Stan smiled bashfully- his perfect dimple smile, as Patty always called it- and slid into the booth beside her. They both kicked at the luggage under the table, giggling to each other like children. The diner seemed oddly deserted, a place that had been so important to them growing up, now seemed ready to close with a single moment’s notice. The door jingle open and Mike Hanlon, the man breaking into a deep grin the second he caught sight of his friends.

“Stanley Uris and Beverly Marsh,” Mike said in a laugh as Beverly leapt right back up to her feet and rushed at him. Mike patted at the top of her head, smiling softly at Stan from across the diner. “Why am I not surprised that you two beat me to my own event?”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re the only person who lives in Derry and you couldn’t even be the first person here?” Stan shot back dryly, standing as well and clasping Mike on the shoulder. The words seemed to hang in the air for moment, heavy and tense, before Mike simply smiled and they took their seats back around the diner table.

“You stayed in Derry?” Beverly asked, eyes widening as she slipped in to sit beside Mike. There was the distinct sound of three pairs of feet kicking at Beverly’s aggressive amount of luggage while Mike avoided making eye contact with Stan. “I thought you went to NYU with Eddie?”

“I was going to,” Mike said in light voice. “That was the plan but you know how life can be. Things get a little mixed up and then..”  The bell to the door rang out again, stealing the attention from all three former Losers. Bill Denbrough nearly stumbled into the diner, pale and looked dazed, seeming almost as though they’d came in by accident. He dropped into the booth without so much of a greeting, and dropped his hand onto Stanley’s shoulder. Stan crinkled his nose up in repulsion and forced himself to allow that distantly familiar touch.

“How you doin’ honey?” Beverly asked gently, looking between Mike and Stan’s worried gazes.

Bill groaned deeply, pressing his face harder into the crock of Stanley’s neck. “Life is terrible, nothing good happens to anybody and then we all die.”

Stanley coughed awkwardly. “Listen, Bill… I appreciate your struggle, but if you could please…”

“Sit up, man,” Mike said a little sharply and Bill startled upwards. “Oh, shit, Stan, I’m so sorry, I tuh-tuh-totally forgot!”

“It’s fine,” Stan said mildly, waving Bill’s apology off. “Is it really that bad being back in Derry? I know it’s no back packing trip through Europe but…”

Bill barked out a laugh while Beverly shook her head. “What, Stan? Did you keep tabs on us for the last ten years? Should we be worried?”

Stan shook his head. “Not all of you.”

The ringing silence danced over the table before Mike cleared his throat awkwardly. “You mean Richie, right? Stan, I really don’t think that Richie-“

“Don’t think I what?” Richie’s voice called over from where he was ducking into the entrance with an arm tossed around one Eddie Kaspbrak. The entire group of former Losers jumped, Stan feeling his heart leapt into his throat. “You guys all already talking shit about mem before I’m even here to defend myself?”

“Yup,” Beverly agreed, tears starting to well up into her eyes. “You have to know that somethings never change, don’t ya?”

Richie hummed, dropping his arm from Eddie’s shoulder to catch Beverly as she came running for him. Eddie laughed lightly, as Richie spun Bev around and narrowly avoided knocking over several chairs. He slid into Beverly’s seat, greeting Mike with a tight hug and smiling towards Bill and Stan across the table. As Beverly attempted to sit back beside Eddie, Richie slipped in before in and took the spot. Beverly raised her brow as she moved in beside Bill, muttering something under her breath about somethings really don’t change.

Richie gave a over joyous greeting to Mike, his voice sobering up as he glanced across the table towards Bill and Stan. He gave one simple nod, forced a small smile and pushed out one simple: “Lads.”

“Richard.” Stan said back through a dry throat. Eddie reached out and began fiddling with the sugar dispenser, Mike noting the discolour of paler skin on his ring finger and frowning.

“What are we all talking about?” Eddie asked, speaking fast and voice high. Stan almost smiled at the memories of Eddie’s nervous voice, the kind he only used when desperate to talk about anything else.

“Billy here was about to tell us about his backpacking trip in Europe with his movie star girlfriend,” Beverly jumped in, pinching at Bill’s cheeks.

“No fucking shit, Denbrough?” Richie laughed, fingers twitching as though desperate to return to a muscle memory habit but being unable to. “I always knew you were going to do some high living, but fuck, dude.”

“She’s not really a movie star,” Bill said, swaying slightly like he may be sick. “She’s a had a few roles in some B Lists and guest star roles on main broadcast television. She’s no Winona Ryder or anything.”

“Obviously,” Stan and Richie spoke up in unison, voices dancing in harmony. “Nobody could be Winona Ryder except Winona Ryder.”

Another awkward silence settled over the table, Stan biting his lip and looking down at the diner table while Richie looked up at the ceiling as though pissed with himself. Beverly thought she noticed Eddie’s hand slipping underneath the table, but was quickly pulled away from the moment by the diner’s door opening once more.

Ben Hanscom stumbled into the diner, out of breath and with mud stains on his jeans. He ran his fingers through his curlier-than-she-remembered hair as his danced through the diner until they landed on her. She watched the way the muscles in his neck hitched, as though he’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe, and she felt her lungs follow his inabilities for just a moment.

“Here we go,” Richie leaned over and whispered to Eddie, who pursed his lips in an attempt not to laugh. “Haystack! My main man! The biggest dick I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing! Pull up at a chair!”

Ben’s cheeks turned a deep red, and the rest of the table all burst out laughing as Ben followed through with Richie’s request. “Come on, Rich, we all know you haven’t even seen Ben’s dick.” Bill said with the first genuine smile he’d cracked since he’d gotten there.

Richie gave Bill a dark, deadpan expression. “You don’t know what I’m into.”

“Oh… Kay..” Bill said slowly, frowning to himself while Eddie nudged Richie’s shoulder gently.. “Suh-suh-sorry, I guess?”

Richie shook his head, and forced a quick smile. “It tis no problem, misuser! But as we have all arrived now, why don’t we give a quick run down of a decade! Eds and I here are still out in the big apple-“

“You and Eddie live together?” Beverly cut across him, frowning in confusion. Richie opened his mouth, then snapped it shut before looking towards Eddie. Eddie cleared his throat and smiled.

“After what happened with UCLA, Richie came with me to NYU instead of staying in Derry,” Eddie said with a shrug. “Since Mike wasn’t going to go anymore, we moved into the apartment together and I just we just never… stopped living together.”

“So, You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

Richie slammed his hands down onto the table. “Somebody else talk now!!!”

Ben startled, then cleared his throat. “I uh… I actually live in New York, too.” He said slowly. “I work for the Pennywise Architecture firm. I’m just an intern still, might as well be unpaid but it’s a first step to my dream job so I deal with it.”

“Okay, not to make things kind of weird…” Beverly scratched at the side of her face. “But I actually live in New York, too. My husband got a transfer last spring, better pay and all that fun stuff. I don’t work, but I sell commissions on my art and a little bit clothing design. I might do something with that, I haven’t decided just yet. I think Tom wants to start a family so I’m not really sure just now.”

Richie narrowed his eyes, but Eddie quickly caught across him. “A family is so worth it, Beverly. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

Beverly smiled blandly, and the conversation slowed until the Bill cleared his throat. “Audra and I actually just bought an apartment in New York. She wuh-wants to do some wuh-work on Broadway and I can wruh-write anywhere, so. We haven’t moved in yet, because we were in Euh-Europe but we’re going straight there after the ruh-reuinon.”

“I…” Stan cleared his throat, a look of concern and discomfort on his face. “I’m actually engaged, Patty she’s… the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She’s still in school, trying to be a high school teacher. She’s… finishing her degree at NYU once the new semester starts. We’re moving out there in like a month from Atlanta.”

Every face turned to look at Mike, who sighed and rubbed at his face. “I applied to some museum job in New York on a whim earlier this year, but I actually got it. I’m not going to go, my dad needs me here and my job is fine but… I told my partner that I’ve turned it down but I actually haven’t yet. I don’t know why I didn’t, I guess part of it just felt wrong.”

“What was it we all used to say back then?” Beverly asked, shaking her head slightly. “When all those weird things happened that we couldn’t explain?”

Ben looked at her and smiled. “Soulmates for the centuries.”  

[reddielibrary]

more than a crush

prompt: All the boy Losers are lowkey into Eddie but Eddie is oblivious and Richie is silently, jealously fuming about it.

written by: Ariona | @sunsetozier

word count: 3026

*click title to read on AO3

For a long time, Richie doesn’t realize what’s happening. Perhaps he should have, because it was quite obvious, really, but it never clicked in his mind. Hell, it wasn’t even in the realm of possibility, so far off from what he thought could happen that he never bothered to entertain the idea of it. It just couldn’t be true, right? It wasn’t true.

Slowly but surely, he learns that he’s wrong.

He learns that he’s not the only one with a crush on Eddie Kaspbrak.

They all show it in different ways, which is the problem. While, yes, it is obvious, it’s also a hidden in plain sight kind of thing because of how each of them handles it. Mike is just warmer, kinder, and gentler than usual, his words smooth and his eyes fond – easy to detect once noticed, but the matter of noticing it is harder than one might think. In comparison to the others, Mike was the last that Richie realized shared his hopeless attraction to Eddie. Before Mike, it had been Bill, who had gone from treating Eddie with a brotherly-like love to something similar to how he had behaved around Beverly back when they were thirteen-years-old, a little pink-cheeked and his stutter just a tad bit worse than normal. Ben stammers nervously when around Eddie, flushes slightly under Eddie’s gaze and offers little hand-written poems and hand-made gifts every other week or so. Stan is actually not much different than normal, but he’s never been much of a blusher, and his red cheeks when Eddie’s near had given him away months ago. At least, it gave him away to Richie.

Richie thinks he’s the only person who realizes that there are currently five guys crushing on Eddie, because none of the other losers seem bothered by it, whereas Richie is beyond bothered. And he shouldn’t be, he knows – really, it’s not his business, except it really is because he’s been head over heels in love with Eddie since they were in middle school and it seems a little fucking unfair that everyone else is realizing how much of a catch Eddie is many years later and none of them even have the audacity to seem wary about it. Like, surely they must know, right? Richie’s never been subtle about his feelings, he’s always showered Eddie in compliments and flirtation and affection, and he used to get the shit beaten out of him by Bowers and his goons every fucking day because of it, so it has to be common knowledge by now. There’s no way that the losers aren’t aware of how he feels about Eddie. And maybe it’s selfish, but Richie feels like there should only be one loser trying to woo Eddie at a time, and it should definitely be him and no one else.

As of now, the others have only done small things in an attempt to win Eddie’s heart, and poor Eddie is as clueless as he’s always been. Richie bitterly thinks that the others must not know Eddie very well – as in, Richie’s been declaring his love to Eddie on a daily basis, has literally called Eddie the love of his life at least a dozen times in the past week alone, and Eddie still thinks it’s friendly banter. Smart boy, Eddie is, but a bit slow on understanding romantic advances. Anything short of planting a kiss on him won’t get the message across, honestly, and Richie knows this. The others, apparently, do not.

(Perhaps it’s a little bit fucked up, but the fact that Richie’s the only one that really knows Eddie well enough to understand this makes him a little smug. Like, he’s perfect for Eddie. He knows Eddie better than anyone. Sure, if Eddie wants to marry Stan the fucking Man, then Richie will be the best man without a complaint, but he’ll sit there the entire wedding and know for a fact that he’s the only person who really understands the way Eddie’s brain works. That’s a privilege all on it’s own. A gift in many forms. Like knowing exactly what to get Eddie for his birthday, or knowing when Eddie wants to go out somewhere or just hang out inside. The little things that really add up and count overtime.)

He knows that the others don’t know this because he can see the disappointment on their faces when the meaning behind their words goes unnoticed. Last week, the losers had gone to see a movie together and Bill had slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders (which, not to be a dick or anything, but Richie’s pretty sure it’s a known fact that he’s the one who always has Eddie under his arm, so that was kind of skin-pricking and frustrating to see) and told him he looked great. Eddie had been chirpy, happy, as he usually is, and said a simple thank you before engaging in a conversation with Beverly. Richie watched as Bill’s face fell slightly before he withdrew his arm and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth sadly. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and Richie understands completely how it feels to try and make a move on Eddie only to have him not understand, but he’d been a little cocky, too, sliding up behind Eddie and putting his arm around his shoulder (like he always has, because that’s kind of his thing, thanks) and joining the conversation between him and Bev with ease, grinning when Eddie leaned into his touch.

It’s all subconscious, really. Eddie isn’t subtle about his feelings, either, he just doesn’t fully grasp the extent of them yet. Richie knows that, on some level at least, Eddie likes him – he can tell in the way they sometimes hold hands, in the way that sometimes is always when they go see movies together, in the way Eddie’s eyes light up whenever he sees or hears Richie. He’s never doubted that Eddie won’t reciprocate his feelings, but he didn’t want to rush anything. For years, he’s been waiting for Eddie to understand his advances, to understand his own feelings, and to make the first move.

But after yesterday, Richie isn’t sure he can do that whole waiting thing anymore.

Richie has been observing the other guys’ attempts at flirting with Eddie ever since he noticed their crushes a couple months back, and for the most part, he wasn’t really worried. A little annoyed, sure, but not worried. Each attempt has been too subtle, or too cliché, or simply just not good, often making Richie snicker when he sees them happen, but apparently Mike got some advice or something, because he stepped up his game real fucking fast. Like, over night fast. Richie didn’t see it coming, but yesterday he’d been making his way to the Center Street Drugstore to get some menstrual supplies for Beverly, who had called him earlier that morning ranting about something her aunt said before promptly asking if Richie could come over to marathon movies and talk shit, which is a telltale sign that she’s starting her period, and when Richie was over there last week, he’d taken notice that she was running a little low on tampons. He’s a good friend, and decided to pick some up for her on the way to her house.

As he was making his way across the street, however, he saw it.

Or, rather, he saw them – Eddie and Mike, sitting on the curb outside of the ice cream shop, chatting happily with one another, eyes bright and grins brighter, and they didn’t see him, no. There were enough people walking around for him to go unnoticed from across the street, and he walked with a hot ball of something ugly burning in his chest and a dry mouth as Mike casually linked their hands together, fingers intertwined, and Eddie didn’t even look caught off guard or anything.

See, Eddie isn’t a hand holder, not with most people. Even in kindergarten he was against the whole chain system where the entire class held hands in the hall in order to avoid anyone being left behind. For a long time, he only held his mother’s hand, and that was only because she made him. When they were twelve, however, Richie held his hand for the first time, and ever since it’s just been… their thing. Again, it’s a sometimes kind of thing, except for when they see movies together, because they always hold hands in the darkness of the movie theater. As far as Richie knows, he hasn’t held any of the losers hand outside of absolute necessity other than him, and maybe he’s reading into it, but it just… it feels bad. It feels wrong. It feels like maybe he had been wrong all this time, like maybe Eddie never has and never will like him, like maybe Eddie will end up with one of the other losers and Richie will always be left to wonder if the things he feels were always one sided.

And Richie’s not against that or anything. He wants Eddie to be happy, no matter what that entails. If the only way to make Eddie happy was to crash a car and light his house on fire, he’d probably do it. But he’s never really entertained the thought that Eddie’s happiness may not include him at all, and it kind of sucks to think about. It kind of aches, like a bruise or a broken bone that has yet to fully mend.

So he gets a little impulsive. Which isn’t a surprise, really, because Richie’s an impulsive person, always has been and probably always will be. His only form of impulse control is when one of the losers tells him not to do something, and even that isn’t full proof. He once shaved his head on a whim while Ben watched in horror and Stan yelled at him to stop the entire time. It took a long time for his hair to grow back out and he regretted doing it, but he’d been unable to convince himself that it was a bad idea in the moment. Kind of like now, as he knocks on the front door of the Kaspbrak residence and waits, knowing that Sonia has some kind of church thing on Sunday evenings that Eddie stopped going to years ago. There’s a good chance he’ll regret this later, but right now, he can’t find a single reason to turn back.

Eddie opens the door, brows creased together, and then brightens when he sees Richie. Without even saying a word, he moves back, opens the door further, and makes room for Richie to come in, an action that makes Richie grin despite the nerves running icy cold in his veins. “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks him, purely curious and seemingly happy about the surprise visit as he closes the door and leads the way down the hall. Richie trails after him quietly, opting to wait until after they’ve settled in Eddie’s room to respond, and even then he falters for a moment, unsure of how to bring this up.

“Are you dating Mike or something?”

And. Well. That’s not exactly how he wanted to approach this.

See? Impulsive.

For a long moment, Eddie stares at him like he’s grown a second head, his eyes wide and his lips parted around words that he seems incapable of fully forming. Richie just stands there, patient for what is most likely the first time in his entire life, and waits. Eventually, Eddie sits heavily on the edge of his bed, blinks slowly, and asks, “What?”

“Mike,” Richie says, as if that’s the part that Eddie’s questioning. He lifts a shoulder in a half shrug and purses his lips, eyes squinting in contemplation before he decides on explaining, “I saw you two, yesterday. At the ice cream shop. You were holding hands.”

“So?” Eddie sounds absolutely bewildered, which is kind of a relief, because it cements the fact that he has absolutely no idea that Mike is definitely crushing on him. He’s blissfully unaware.

Averting his eyes to scan over the wall like it’s the most interesting in the world, Richie tells him, “So, you don’t hold hands with people. You never have. It has to mean something for you.”

Eddie blinks again, looking lost. “I hold hands with you, and it means that he’s my one of my best friends and he wanted to hold my hand, so I let him…”

Unable to help it, Richie snorts. “Trust me, Eds, he didn’t want to hold your hand because you two are friends.”

“What are you—”

“Mike likes you,” Richie tells him insistently, tired of beating around the bush. “So does Bill, and Ben, and Stan, and- and me.”

Shaking his head slowly, confusion still clouding his features, Eddie says, “I like you guys, too. You’re all my best friends. I still don’t understand what you’re asking, though.”

Scrubbing a hand over his features with a bubbly little laugh, equal parts exasperated and charmed by how clueless Eddie still is. “Not like a friend,” he elaborates, gesturing vaguely in front of him as he talks. “Like, like-like, you know? Mike wanted to hold your hand because he wants to date you. As in boyfriends. That kind of thing. So do Bill, Ben, Stan, and me, but it’s fucking ridiculous because I’ve definitely been crushing on you the longest and those assholes are trying to—”

“Crushing on me?” Eddie repeats, effectively cutting off Richie’s rambling before he can say anything that could make the situation any worse. The sound of Richie’s jaw clicking as his mouth snaps shut almost echoes in the moment of silence that settles over them. Eddie is looking up at him like he’s a book written in another language, something he doesn’t understand but desperately wants to, and it makes Richie’s mouth a little dry when he softly asks, “You’re crushing on me?”

“Um.” Richie falters, tilting his head from side to side as he considers his next words. He hadn’t bothered coming up with a game plan or anything on the way here, so he hasn’t decided how much he does and doesn’t want to say, but hey, he’s already started digging himself into this hole. Might as well bury himself alive, right? “They’re crushing on you,” he corrects, scraping his teeth over his lower lip nervously and pointedly avoiding looking in Eddie’s general direction, eyes fixated on his shoes. He absently realizes that he should probably clean off the mud stains on the soles sometime soon, but then decides that this definitely isn’t the time to be thinking about that. “I’m… more, I guess. More than crushing. Have been for a long time, too. Like… years. Many, many years.”

Eddie blanches at that, his eyes going impossibly wide as he processes Richie’s words. With each passing moment, Richie starts to realize that maybe this hadn’t been a good idea, but then Eddie smiles, small and bashful, and he can’t really regret his choice to come here when he gets to see that look. “More than crushing? What does that mean?”

Rubbing the back of his neck in uncertainty, Richie shrugs and protests, “You’re not listening to what I was saying. Mike held your hand because he likes you, and- and Stan keeps asking you to go to his house ‘cause he doesn’t know how to flirt, and those poems Ben keeps giving aren’t friendly, and, uh- and Bill? Yeah, he- he keeps trying to compliment you and shit, but you just don’t see that it’s flirty—”

“And what do you do?” Eddie asks.

“Why are you fixating on me?” Richie fires back, now feeling as confused as Eddie looked mere moments before. “I’m just, like- I’m trying to let you know, okay? So that you can, like, be aware of what they’re doing and… I dunno. Decide what you want to do about it. Like… more informed decisions.”

“I—”

“And if you want to date any of them, then, like, I’m not gonna complain or be upset or anything, I just- I thought you should know, you know?” Richie isn’t even sure what he’s saying at this point, only knows that words are rolling off his tongue at an alarming rate. “Like, I mean- I know what I just said, and I mean it, but not- I don’t—”

Eddie stands up abruptly, the action so sudden that it makes Richie freeze, words dying in the back of his throat. “Informed decisions,” he repeats slowly, brows pinched together slightly as he scans over Richie’s features. He breaks out into an amused grin then, the shift between moods almost giving Richie whiplash. “You came here to tell me this so that I could make an informed decision?”

Blinking slowly, Richie murmurs, “Um… yes?”

“Okay.” Eddie nods, looking contemplative for approximately ten seconds before curling his fingers into the collar of Richie’s shirt and tugging him forward to seal their lips together in a brisk, two-second kiss that Richie can’t even attempt to reciprocate. Pulling back quickly, not releasing his hold on Richie, Eddie states, “I think I made my decision. I love all of the losers, but there’s only one I want to date. Now, please tell me what more than crushing means? Please?”

“I, uh…” Richie trails off, taking a long moment to comprehend what, exactly, just happened. Lips twitching up into an incredulous grin, he settles his hands on Eddie’s waist, the action almost timid, and tells him, “I’m not crushing, Eds, I’m pretty head over heels in love, and it’s obvious to everyone else except for you.”

With a little hum of amusement, Eddie nods, apparently satisfied with that response, and says, “Good. I’m pretty head over heels, too.” Before Richie can reply, Eddie kisses him again. And if a petty part of Richie waltzes up to the losers the next day and kisses Eddie directly in front of everyone else just to make it clear that the flirting won’t get them anywhere, no one says anything about it.

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Saying Good-Bye to Yesterday-Chapter 10

Well, it’s taken quite a while to get this chapter posted, but it’s finally here.

 In this chapter, Rusty reflects on the way his feelings toward Andy and Sharon's relationship with Andy have changed over the years. 

You can find it here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/10/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday

here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/10/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday

And here:

***********

“So, your Mom is getting married. How do you feel about that?”

Rusty looked up from the chessboard, a flash of surprise crossing his face as he met the curious gaze of his psychiatrist. Blowing out a deep sigh, he shook his head with resignation. “I don’t know why I should be surprised you already know. It’s not like you can keep any secrets around here.”

Dr. Joe’s lips twisted with wry amusement. “I’ve been invited to the engagement party. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“How do I feel about it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my Mom is happy, so of course I’m happy.”

“Of course you’re happy?“

“Yes. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Oh my God. Like I’m not telling you the truth.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Because there was a time that wasn’t the case.”

“What wasn’t the case?”

“You being happy about it. There was a time that your Mom was happy about her relationship with Andy and you weren’t quite so sure about it.”

He shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not so long.”

Rusty slumped back in his seat and gave Dr. Joe a long look. His feelings about his mother and Andy were complicated and had gone through many changes over the years as he‘d watched them grow from adversaries to friends, from lovers to engaged. Back when Sharon had first taken him in, she‘d also just been promoted to leading Major Crimes, and as an outsider, with an inside view, he’d been a keen observer of the dynamics running through the division.

It hadn’t taken long to notice that Sharon most often relied on the blunt, no-nonsense Andy Flynn, rather than her second in command, Provenza. Which he supposed made sense because Provenza had been slow to overcome the grudge he had over her getting the job he assumed would be his.

And, when it came to finding his biological mother, it was Andy she approached for help. The brash lieutenant was sarcastic and didn’t give an inch, but strangely enough, Rusty rather liked that about him. It was honest. Andy didn’t pretend to like him and he never tried to bullshit him. He hated people who tried to bullshit him. Later, when they’d found his mother and convinced her to return, Andy was the one that Sharon asked to accompany him to the bus stop to greet her.

What happened at that bus stop was something he tried very hard not to think about. Though he hadn’t known it then, that night was the final severing of any kind of mother/son relationship he would ever have with Sharon Beck. And Andy Flynn had been sitting right by his side when it happened. He’d been worried about how Flynn might react when he met his mother. She was the kind of woman for whom the caustic detective would normally have nothing but contempt. A drug addict who’d run off with her drug addict boyfriend. A dirtbag who’d abandoned her thirteen-year-old son to the streets. Those were the kinds of judgments he’d never been shy about making. Instead, rather than condemning the woman, Andy had been surprisingly kind and gone out of his way to help calm his nerves while they waited.

Then the bus arrived and nothing played out the way it was supposed to. His mother was supposed to walk off that bus, pull him into her arms and apologize for all the years she’d neglected and abused him. All the years she’d brought violent and dangerous men into their lives.

She was supposed to get down on her knees and beg him to forgive her for walking away and leaving him behind to fend for himself. She was supposed to magically transform into the kind of mother he‘d always fantasized about having.  It was supposed to be the moment he’d been dreaming about for two years.

Instead, he stood next to Andy watching as the passengers began disembarking from the bus, his excitement quickly turning to dread as the line of people began to dwindle down. When the last of them stepped off the bus and it became more and more apparent that his mother was not on board, his stomach clenched painfully. For a moment, he thought might throw up. Andy gave him a hand gesture, urging him not to panic just before he hopped on the bus to see if maybe she was still on board. But he’d known Andy wouldn’t find her, maybe he’d known all along.  His mother had taken the money Andy sent her and disappeared, probably used it for drugs, and every hopeful fantasy he’d had about their reunion came crashing down around him, causing him to run before he burst into tears like a baby.

He’d had two choices that night. Run away again and disappear into the night like so many other homeless, broken teens. Or, recognize that he was not that homeless, hopeless boy anymore. That he had a place to go. A woman who had opened her home, her pocketbook…and her heart to him. A woman he was quickly learning would never let him down.

Back at the condo, he’d finally forced himself to look at his childhood without the blinders he’d been wearing for two years. The blinders he’d put on the day he realized that his mother had truly abandoned him. Because he had to believe it wasn’t her fault. No mother would just walk away and leave her child behind. It was Gary’s fault, he’d made her do it, and one day she would get away from him and come back and they would live happily ever after. He had to believe that. Had to cling to some kind of hope that he might return to a life that had never really existed because the life that he was living on the street was about as bleak and ugly as it got. Now he knew that happily ever after was never going to happen, even if his mother did one day return. Because the truth was, the life that he’d led before she left him behind had been anything but happy.

Looking at his past square in the face, he saw a young boy living with his addicted mother as a squatter in an abandoned, condemned crack house. It was filthy, reeking of vomit, urine and body odor. No one ever cleaned. Cockroaches crawled all over the place and a rat had even bitten him once while he slept. His mother and her boyfriend of the week stayed up all hours drinking and shooting up. By morning, they were too wasted to even wake up. So, he did his best to find something to eat, more often than not finding nothing, and left for school. Because if he didn’t go to school the authorities would come looking and they would take him away from his mother and he‘d never see her again. Whatever kind of mess she was, she was all he knew. All he had.

But when he got to school, his homework wasn’t finished because he hadn’t understood much of it and the help that he’d needed wasn’t there. So, he’d just given up and not bothered with it. Moving from school to school to school didn’t lend itself to a great education. But that didn’t bother him as much as the kids who wrinkled their noses at him and called him names because he smelled bad. He couldn’t find any quarters in his mother’s pockets to go to the run-down Laundromat around the corner and do their laundry, so he’d been forced to wear dirty clothes. And he hadn’t showered in days because the abandoned house they were living in had its water cut off.

Then, when school was out, he had to go home, such as it was. And he didn’t know whether to hope his mother and her boyfriend were still passed out, or awake. Because awake could sometimes be so much worse. Awake meant that when he let the door slam shut he got a beating for making too much noise. And while he was getting that beating he was being called a “little shit” a “bastard” a “noisy motherfucker” and, the worst, for him, a “faggot”. Too young, too weak to defend himself, he’d slink off to a corner filled with pain and anger. His mother, the one person in the world who should have protected him, never defended him, never stood up for him. In fact, if she even bothered to check and see how he was, she would blame him for the beating, telling him he should have known better than to make so much noise and set off Bob, Mike, JC, Coot, Gary, whichever man she was currently in “love” with.

And then, after she’d left him behind and he‘d gone through a string of abusive foster homes and a year on the streets, he’d ended up here in this beautiful high rise condo in the heart of wealthy Los Feliz where everything was always neat and clean and smelled good, like scented candles and the fresh flowers that always graced the tables. He not only had a bed with clean sheets and blankets, but he also had his own bedroom. He was living with a woman who not only took care of herself but took care of him as well. A woman who brought him grocery shopping and asked him what kinds of food he liked to eat and then stocked her refrigerator and cupboards with his favorites. A woman who made sure he had healthy meals right down to the apple she put in his lunch sack every day.

For the first time in his life, he did not have to worry about where his next meal was going to come from, or if there would even be a next meal. Nor did he have to worry about dirty, torn clothes. This woman took him shopping and bought him new clothes. Not just his school uniform khakis and light blue polo shirts, things he actually liked, and they were always freshly laundered so he had clean clothes every day.

Yes, this woman had rules and there were boundaries and no he didn‘t always like that, but she always spoke to him kindly and with respect. She didn’t lash out and call him names, even when he knew he might have deserved a few when he was being particularly rude and disrespectful to her. She had conversations with him, gently leading him toward making the right decisions rather than forcing them on him. She talked a lot about his future and offered to help him with school applications so he could get a good education at some fancy private Catholic school she wanted him to attend. She even offered to hire a tutor because thanks to his haphazard schooling he was so far behind other kids his age.

For the first time since he could remember, he was not in the parenting role. For the first time, he had someone taking care of him. Someone who checked in on him at night before bed and who got him up in the morning to go to school because she was already up and dressed, impeccably so, for work. No drug-hazed mornings for Sharon Raydor. He had someone who cooked for him rather than him having to cook for her because she was too strung out and sick to be hungry as had been the case with his mother.  Sharon Raydor WAS the parent; she had herself and her life together and did not need anyone taking care of her the way he had always had to take care of Sharon Beck.

Sitting in what had become “his” bedroom he’d finally faced the reality of his life as it had been, as it was today, and where it might be in the future. And, with that reflection and the recognition that his future might very well be right here, he was able to let down a few of his defenses with Sharon, even filling out paperwork for that private school she wanted him to attend.  But, he’d put up a few walls with the lieutenant he’d run away from that night. The naïve eagerness for his mother’s arrival that he’d expressed to Andy while they waited for the bus was humiliating. When he thought about all those things he‘d made Andy promise; to be nice to her, to not question her decision to abandon him, to make sure there wasn’t a mini bar in her room, it made him cringe. He felt like an idiot, and Andy had witnessed it all.

To his credit, Andy had never mentioned a word of it. And, when his biological father had shown up on the scene and turned out to be a selfish prick with a quick fist, Andy had been nothing but supportive.

Then, just he was putting his biological parents behind him and was starting to feel more comfortable in his new life, his friend Kris had ratted him out, telling Emma Rios about the threatening letters he‘d been receiving. In an effort to keep Rios from persuading Chief Taylor to send him off into witness protection, Sharon elicited the help of her second in command. With that shift, Lieutenant Provenza suddenly became the central male figure in his life.

That gravitation toward Provenza continued after Sharon attended Nicole’s wedding with Andy. Because something had definitely changed between them that day. There was a new dynamic when they were together. Overnight the close professional relationship they shared had suddenly, and unexpectedly, become personal.  

Andy was no longer Lieutenant Flynn, he was just Andy, and Andy, much to the chagrin of Provenza, was the only member of the team to refer to their Captain more informally as Sharon. That had certainly not gone unnoticed and neither had the fact that the two of them had begun doing things together outside of work. Sometimes Sharon would call to say that they were working late and she was going to run out for a bite to eat with Andy or she’d go off to some movie she’d been dying to see with him, or to a baseball game or an art gallery opening. He’d even heard her on the phone asking him to be her plus one at some charity event, which had really surprised him because those were the kinds of things she usually asked Gavin to attend with her. Andy even started showing up occasionally on Sunday afternoons to munch on nachos and watch football with her, his favorite garlic guacamole and cranberry lime seltzer water now stocked in her fridge. Which, if he was being completely honest, wasn‘t all bad because it kept her from bugging him to watch with her. Despite her best efforts Sharon had yet to turn him into a football fan.

All of this made him look at Andy through new eyes. Though he despised analyzing his motivations, he did recognize that he was, by nature and circumstances, suspicious of people. In his experience, people weren’t ever what they pretended to be. Well, except for Sharon. Sharon was the only genuine person in his life, the only one who‘d turned out to be the real deal. Most people, he’d found, had ulterior motives for everything they did. So, once Andy had become a bigger fixture in Sharon’s life he’d started wondering if the man’s helpful intentions had been more about making a good impression and helping Sharon than about helping him, and he’d continued to turn more to Provenza for advice. Given Provenza’s more adversarial past with Sharon, he knew the man was completely unbiased and not looking at things just from her perspective. The same could not be said for Andy. Andy was always protecting Sharon and her perspective.

But he’d been okay with their friendship, even as he could see a growing connection between them. A certain softness in their eyes when they thought the other wasn’t looking, a way that Sharon had of always reaching out to touch Andy, and the tender way Andy talked to her, not at all the tough, cynical guy he was at work. Things you would have to be blind not to see.

Or in denial.

But there had been nothing romantic, nothing sexual. And he found that platonic dating was fine, especially when it kept his mother focused less focused on him, giving him greater freedom.

Then, Christmas a couple years ago when Andy and Sharon had been struggling to define their relationship to Nicole, he’d had to go and rock the boat, bringing to their attention everything that he’d been witnessing, and something had clicked. For his mother anyway. He was pretty sure that Andy was well aware of what was going on. But with his mother, he’d seen it all play out on her face. Oh, she’d tried denying it, but the look in her eyes contradicted her protests that they were not dating. She knew it was true. They’d been dating all right, just not in the romantic sense.

And then she’d come home one day and told him that Andy had asked her out on a date. A date. She’d never used that word before when it came to going out with Andy, it had always been, “I‘m going to a movie with Andy” or “I‘m going to a Dodger game tonight with Andy.”  But even with this new terminology, he still hadn’t worried too much, figuring it would just be more of the same. After all, middle-aged people weren’t into romance and sex, right?

How wrong he’d been. The night of the date Sharon was as nervous as he’d ever seen her. She’d tried on at least five dresses, including a new one, asking his advice on each one. After the fourth dress he‘d had enough, groaning, “I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, it’s just Andy, he sees you every day.” She’d given him a glare, then turned back to her bedroom muttering, “I knew I should have called Gavin.“ This unsure woman plagued by nerves was someone he didn’t know. It was a side of Sharon he’d never seen before.  The only Sharon he knew was calm, cool, self-confident and decisive.

Later that night he’d been sitting on the couch doing homework when she came home from the date all starry-eyed, like some teenage girl swooning over her latest crush, her fingertips playing over her lips in a way that suggested she was reliving a kiss. That was when it really hit him. When he realized that his mother’s relationship with Andy had taken a dramatic turn and that romantic dating was definitely a whole new ballgame.

And yes, that did make him a bit squeamish. In the three years that he’d lived with Sharon, he’d never seen her in any kind of romantic or sexual relationship. Even when Jack had come to stay for a few days back when they were still married, Sharon had made him sleep on the couch and there had been no affection whatsoever between the two.

So, when Andy had to move in with them temporarily because of a dangerous blood clot in his carotid artery and suddenly his mother was all flirty and giggly and she was cuddling up to him while they watched TV, sharing soft, mushy looks with him and kissing him goodnight, it felt awkward…disconcerting …as if he didn’t know her anymore. Because he’d never seen this side of her. Ever.

Still, when Sharon had explained the seriousness of a clot in the carotid artery and that it could be life-threatening, the cold dread that settled like a weight in his stomach made him realize how much he had come to care about Andy. The idea that he could actually die had scared him enough to offer Andy his bedroom after Sharon had assured him that he would not be sharing her room.

Which was another thing that was really strange.

In the 13 years that he’d spent with his biological mother, he couldn’t ever remember her dating anyone the way that Sharon was dating Andy. No man had ever treated her with the kind of respect that Andy treated Sharon. No man had ever shown up at her door with lavender roses because purple was her favorite color. And certainly, no man had ever taken her out for a night on the town and then gone home without getting the one thing he‘d come to believe every man wanted…to get laid. When his mother met a guy there were no traditional tokens of affection, no dates, it was straight into bed.  

And then, just as he’d grown a little bit more comfortable, things changed yet again. Not too long after Andy’s surgery on the clot had healed enough for him to be able to move back into his home in Valencia, he had taken Sharon away down to Orange County for a weekend at the beach. He wasn’t a dumb kid. He knew what that meant, but he didn’t dwell on it. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. But when she came home from that weekend, she had approached him with a conversation regarding “overnight guests to the condo“. After clarifying that she was not referring to him having overnight guests, it hit him like a ton of bricks. She meant that Andy might start spending the night…in her bedroom this time. Once the initial shock wore off he told her he was happy for her, as she said he should be, but he‘d still felt conflicted about it. He liked Andy, and of course, he wanted his mother to be happy. But…just the idea of them doing that made him shudder. Not so strange, Dr. Joe had later explained, “No child ever thinks of their mother as a sexual being and it certainly isn’t easy coming face to face with the man she is having sex with. Watching a parent fall in love is quite a strange phenomenon that with divorce rates being what they are, more and more kids are having to come to terms with.”

But it was more than that for him, and he couldn't put his finger on why he felt the way that he did. Not until the day that he came home early because he'd had a fight with TJ after having told Sharon he would be out late.

He walked in the door, his mind still on the fight, when he heard a soft, low moan come from the direction of his mother’s bedroom. He paused for a moment, not sure what he’d heard. Then he heard it again, this time with an added sharp cry of pain. The door was wide open to the hall so he had no problem hearing her. With a surge of panic, he started to rush forward, sure that she was injured, but just as he reached the doorway, a deep, harsh male groan brought him up short and he froze. Then he heard it, the telltale thumping of her padded headboard against the wall, the low creaking of the bed and the soft sighs of “Andy…Andy…Andy…“  telling him everything he had to know about what was going on in that room. Mortified, he stormed off toward his own bedroom, the shout of Sharon’s name seeming to reverberate throughout the condo. It was that last cry of completion that caused him to slam the door to his room harder than he’d intended.

He threw himself on his bed fighting waves of nausea, his fists clenched at his sides. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way. His biological mother had slept with dozens of men, even prostituting herself when times were lean. He’d learned to live with it. But dammit, this was different. This was Sharon. His adopted mother was as different as day and night from his biological mother. And he needed it to be that way.

A few minutes later, his mother knocked on his door and entered his room wearing a short silk bathrobe he’d never seen before. Something a woman would wear for a man. Her skin was flushed and he could swear he could smell Andy on her. His stomach roiled. That smell still lived in his nightmares.

“You’re home early,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. He grunted. She brushed a lock of hair back from his face and he flinched. She sighed.

“I’m assuming given the way you slammed your door that you heard us when you got home.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He rolled away.

“Well, I think we need to talk about it. I did warn you that Andy might start spending the night here once in a while.”

“Spending the night is a little different than having to listen to porn.” He felt her tense, saw the little flicker of hurt in her eyes and wished he could take back what he’d just said.

Sharon took a deep breath, trying to regulate her temper.  “Look, Rusty, I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m sorry you had to hear that. If we’d known you were going to be home early, of course, we would have been more discreet. But this is my home and if I want to have Andy stay over; I will. What you heard was not porn it was lovemaking. There’s a difference.”

He gave a derisive snort and rolled his eyes. “Sure there is.”

“Look, I know it had to be awkward to hear us that way, but why is this bothering you so much? Why are you so upset?” She set a hand on his shoulder and he sat up his eyes flashing with anger.

“I guess I just thought you were above all that, okay.”

She flinched, her brow creasing with confusion. “Above it? What do you mean by that? You think I‘m not human?”

Rusty shrugged. “What am I supposed to think? For all the years that I’ve lived with you, you never had a boyfriend until Andy. You didn’t even let your husband sleep with you when he stayed here.”

“Because we were legally separated and that part of our relationship had been over for a very, very long time.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You didn’t need any guy that way. You just always seem so perfect.”

“Oh my God, honey. I am so not perfect. You’re right, in the past few years, I haven’t had any men in my life until Andy. But I am not a saint. I am not a nun. I am a woman. I have needs like any other woman, any other human being.”

He grimaced. “Can we please stop using the word ‘needs’?”

Her lips pursed in an effort to conceal her amusement. “Fine. But I need you to know that I am not perfect, not by any means. Do not put me on a pedestal.”

“A pedestal?”

“Yes. Because you know what happens when you put people on pedestals?”

He shook his head negatively.

“It deprives them of their humanness. It keeps you from seeing them clearly. I have imperfections and flaws. I have challenges and struggles. I have insecurities. And, yes, I’m sorry to say, I have needs. And when you think a person doesn’t have those human qualities, when you think they are above that, it’s dangerous. Because now you’ve created a standard of perfection that no one can live up to and that can only lead to disappointment. The way you’re feeling right now. And that isn’t fair to me, because I have never claimed to be perfect.”

The anger left Rusty’s eyes. “I guess I just never see you that way. You always seem to have everything so together. You always seem to know what to do and what to say.”

“Well, maybe it seems that way. But I have made plenty of mistakes, dear child, and there are times I don’t exactly know what to do or what to say. This is one of them. I’m sorry if hearing Andy and me embarrassed you.”

He shrugged again. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. But, Sharon,” he sat up drawing his knees into his chest. “I don’t get it. You have this great condo, you have a lot of money, a car, you can buy whatever you want, you‘re okay on your own. What do you get out of it?”

She quirked her head to the side, confusion again creasing her brow. “What do I get out of it? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, you don’t have to do it.”

My God, was that really what he thought? “Sex? You’re talking about sex?”

He nodded and her face softened with sympathy.

“Oh, honey. Sex should never be about doing something you don’t want to do just to get something in return. It’s not a transaction, or at least it shouldn’t be.”

He stared at her blandly. He knew he was seriously screwed up when it came to sex. But the one thing he‘d always been sure of was that it was all about quid pro quo, a transaction, as Sharon said. His mother used sex to make money for food and drugs; she used sex as a way to put a roof over their heads by finding a man with an apartment and ingratiating her way into staying with him. She used sex to keep those same men from throwing them out on the street and to keep them from beating her. At the time, it had sickened him and he hated those guys. But then he’d gone and done the very same thing.  He’d sold his body to survive, for food and shelter. And every time he did it, he hated himself more and more. Hated them. Hated their dark, dirty needs. Hated the sounds they made and the smells they left on him. He hated them because they had stolen his childhood, his self-worth and had turned the act of sex into something dark, shameful and degrading.

Sharon continued on gently, “I know that what you went through on the streets has probably warped your views on sexuality but----”

“Mom, I really don’t want to talk about this with you, especially after you‘ve…well,” he gestured toward her attire.

“I know discussing sex with a parent is uncomfortable, I get that. I’ve been through it with your sister and brother. But I want to make sure that you know there is nothing wrong with having sexual needs. All people have them, it’s part of being human. It’s the way people act upon those needs that can twist and pervert them into something ugly and painful”

His chest tightened at the flicker of pain in her eyes, evidence that she too had experienced a darker side to sex.

“Sex, at its best, is not a transactional act. It’s something to be shared, a need to express your love in a physical way, a desire to give your partner pleasure and to accept the pleasure they want to give you in return. Really it’s about sharing the most intimate part of you.” A flush of embarrassment stained Rusty’s cheeks, but Sharon continued on because she was pretty sure this was a conversation he’d never had before and it was important that he understand.

“I don’t sleep with Andy because I feel like I have to be with him that way. I’m with Andy because I want to be. And, I know you may think this sounds corny or old-fashioned, but there really is a difference between sex and making love and one day I hope you will have that experience.”

And so, with that, Andy began spending more and more nights at the condo. Rusty grew used to seeing him come out of Sharon’s bedroom, sometimes in just his boxers, and even seeing him in her bed. It had been quite jarring the first time he’d knocked on their bedroom door, was told to “come in”, and Andy was lying there in bed, Sharon’s head resting sleepily on his bare chest. But now it just seemed normal.

Then, one night during supper, they’d tossed him another curveball. Andy was looking to sell his house in Valencia to find a place closer to theirs in Los Feliz. Okay, no big deal about that. But then, all of a sudden they were talking about moving in together and buying a house together. In an instant, he was that little boy again, sitting on the outside, ignored and forgotten while his mother focused on her new man.

Things had simply never gone well for him when Sharon Beck brought a man into their life. Each time she hooked up with a new guy she would get so wrapped up in him it was like she forgot she even had a son. One day after she‘d moved them in with her latest boyfriend, just to see if she’d notice, he disappeared for two full days. He thought for sure she’d be frantic with worry and would cover him with hugs and kisses when he returned. But when he walked through the door, she hadn’t blinked an eye…because she hadn’t even known he was missing. Had simply assumed he’d been up and off to school each morning. He was 9 years old at the time.

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, because the men his mother hooked up with were usually drug addicts or drug dealers, or sometimes pimps, they were almost always violent. They treated her like dirt and treated him even worse. They beat her and they beat him, and no matter how awful things got she always took their side. And in the end, when Gary the dirtbag got sick of having him around and told her to dump him at the zoo, she had done just that. Nothing in his life would ever hurt more than that betrayal.

Of course he knew that Sharon Raydor was not Sharon Beck, not by a long shot. But when she‘d come to him and said Andy was moving in, all those old feelings had resurfaced, flooding through him in a series of waves. As much as he knew that Andy wasn‘t Gary, that he wasn‘t going to suddenly start knocking him around and that his mother wasn‘t going to get so fixated on Andy she’d forget about him, it was hard to let go of those old feelings. And if he were really examining his emotions, as Dr. Joe made him do, there was something else he was feeling, something Joe told him was a little more expected.

Jealousy.

For four years he’d pretty much had Sharon all to himself. Sure, she had Emily and Ricky and he’d had to work through some of that jealousy when they came home for visits, but they didn’t live close enough to be an everyday presence. And, sure, she had friends that she spent time with, but for the most part, until Andy, her life had pretty much revolved around work and him, especially during the time when his life was being threatened. In the beginning, he’d chafed over what he’d considered her helicopter parenting. For as long as he could remember he’d done whatever he wanted when he wanted and hadn’t had to answer to anyone.

But now, it was different. He liked having a mother who loved and worried about him. Though he wouldn’t admit it to her, it made him feel all warm inside when she immediately placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature when he said he wasn’t feeling well, or asked what time he was coming home when he went out then checked on him to make sure he‘d returned safe and sound, because for the first time in his life he had someone who really cared about him. And he was afraid of losing that.

Because now there was Andy. Andy was part of the decisions she made. That had never been more apparent than when she’d turned down what could have been a dream job for her, head of security for the NFL because it would take away from the time she could spend with Andy and possibly put a strain on their relationship. He had become such a big part of her life, their life; there was no getting around that. And while it hadn’t been an easy transition, he‘d successfully navigated through it all and, before too long he’d come to realize that having Andy around wasn’t so bad after all, even if he did hog the TV watching ESPN every night. His moving in, once Rusty had come to terms with it, had been a good thing in many ways. Now that his mother had a partner, and they were off doing things together, it took some of the focus off him, gave him greater freedom. And, unlike the way his biological mother had brought men into their lives, Sharon, and to be fair, Andy, had both gone out of their way to make sure that everything went along as it normally had and that he still felt included in their lives. It had been a bit awkward at first. At times he felt like a third wheel, unsure if they really wanted him around or if he was in the way. But they kept extending him invitations; to eat meals with them, to watch TV with them, to go out to a movie with them. And Andy played chess and video games with him while his mother still made his favorite meals and worried about him when he was having a bad day. It felt an awful lot like he was finally part of a traditional family.  

But when Andy found a house up in the Hollywood Hills that he thought Sharon might like, the old fears had rushed through him. Was he in the way? Was he cramping their burgeoning relationship? Would Andy want him gone so he could have Sharon all to himself? He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they’d like their own place, a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about him walking in while they were making out on the couch or to have to be quiet when they were doing….other things. He’d expressed some of those fears to Buzz, well, everything but the sexy stuff,  and Buzz had told him to get it all out there with Andy. So, he did. Andy had quickly and forcefully, disabused him of such notions, even chuckling over the idea of what Sharon would do to him if she ever thought he was trying to find a way to get rid of her child. Then, Andy had suggested that he join them to look at the house so they could decide as a family if the house was right for them or not.

A family.

That day had been a changing point. From then on, he’d started to view Andy, not as an interloper, not as the man stealing his mother’s attention, not as the man his mother was sleeping with, but instead, as the man his mother loved and with whom she was sharing her life. A man who had become important to him as well. Andy was someone he could turn to for advice. An ally who was willing to help him navigate through the minefields when his mother was set against something he wanted, and who, conversely, wasn’t afraid to tell him to back off when he felt he was pushing her too hard. He was also an honest, but caring source of information about addiction when it came to his biological mother.

Somehow, over time, Andy had become his father figure, and that bond seemed to grow stronger every day. He didn’t trust many people, but Andy had proven himself trustworthy. And when it came to him as a partner for his mother, Rusty no longer had any reservations. Andy loved his mother, he respected her, and there was no denying that he made her happy. Since he’d come into her life she was so much more light-hearted, she laughed more, she teased more and she was far more relaxed. He liked seeing her that way.

So, by the time Andy came to him hoping for his blessing in asking Sharon to marry him, there had been no hesitance at all in his response. His rather exuberant yes had been a no brainer. Maybe it was because he knew Andy so much better now, or, maybe it was because he was getting more mature, but whatever the reason, none of those old feelings of insecurity had resurfaced when they announced they were indeed getting married. This time there were no red flags warning him of possible disasters, nothing to mar the surprising content he felt over their relationship becoming official and permanent.  

“Earth to Rusty?”

Dr. Joe’s amused voice yanked Rusty out of his trip down memory lane. “Uh, what?”

“I was saying that it wasn’t all that long ago that you had reservations about your mother and Andy.”

“Maybe it wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it was. I can honestly say that I am happy about this marriage. For them. And maybe even for me. “

TBC

[tessatechaitea]

Team Titans #21

Team Titans is an anagram for a tit stamen.

In this modern era, anything you say online can eventually come back to haunt you. But back before the Internet existed (or was mostly just drunk assholes and minors in AOL chat rooms), the main thing that could come back to haunt a person was writing into a comic book and asking for a pin-up issue. Sure, I had young person crushes on a few comic book characters. But I never wrote to Mike W. Barr and asked him to write a story where Halo spends most of the issue in her underwear. No, I wrote that letter to Jim Aparo. "Come on, Jim! Just have her coming out of the shower in some scene! I can't prove this yet because it's 1984 but it'll probably become common practice to draw characters in towels getting out of showers when artists like David Finch and Tony S. Daniel become popular! And their renditions of adult women will look even younger than your rendition of Halo!" I find the amount of "Ooh la la"s and "Ha cha cha cha"s I've had to read in the letters pages of The New Titans since they published a swimsuit shot of the women of the Titans incomprehensible. And I'd find it incomprehensible even if that amount were just one. Which it was not. I wouldn't be too flabbergasted if I didn't think mostly grown ass men wrote to comic books. I know kids did too! Take Roy Thomas as an example. But no way are young people the majority of letter writers. Speaking of comic books, I just read Terry Moore's "Five Years" and it pissed me off. Mostly because eight out of the twenty pages were blank. After the first blank page, I thought, "That was a weird choice." But it kind of fit because it was squarely at the point in the narrative where the phi bomb goes off in Katchoo's dream. But then a few pages later, it was a double spread of blank pages. Being a Master Comic Book Reader, I thought, "This can't be right." And it wasn't right! Not at all! Now I have to purchase a new copy so I can see what I missed. And, no, I won't be taking this copy back to the comic book store. It has my greasy fingerprints all over that stupid glossy black cover that Terry Moore insists on doing! Not that I think the store would resell it. But I do know they'd have a great set of my fingerprints to use for nefarious purposes. Or possibly legal purposes that would just get me in trouble. At least "Five Years #1" had blank pages so I knew something was missing. It took me 20 years to finish reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman because I didn't realize there were something like eighteen pages missing from The Kindly Ones trade paperback I own. This issue begins with the U.S. military surveying the damage from the Team Titans battle with Lazarium.

Being that Lazarium was only killing Titans, this means the Team Titans have killed 36 more civilians than Lazarium. Way to go, heroes!

Writer Jeff Jensen didn't have the balls to kill all of the extra Titans in the black hole so he decides to have most of the survivors attack Battalion and the other Titans. Enough comic book readers accept the premise that at least half of the battles in comic books have to be good guy against good guy, no matter how stupid the reason. And the reason doesn't get any stupider than having a bunch of Titans that were just battling alongside Battlion to suddenly decide the only sane reaction to Battalion suggesting they clean up the mess is to shoot Donna Troy in the face. At the very least, it gives Mirage a chance to mention that 500 Titans just died. After coming up with Wonder Boy and Two Gallon Hat and Liquid Joe, Jensen realized he was out of ideas so he just killed most of the others. And yet he seemed so excited to build a new Titans universe with hundreds of new characters! I wonder if he did come up with five hundred characters whose names were even worse than Liquid Joe and Two Gallon Hat, so the editors told him he was fucking crazy if he thought DC was going to use any of them. The Titans seek refuges at the Justice League Embassy in New York. I forgot there was a time when the Justice League forwent their headquarters to run embassies all over the world. Giffen and DeMatteis must have thought there'd be big bureaucratic Marx Brothers type laughs in trying to run an embassy. And I suppose there could have been! Did they ever do a story with some Assange-like villain like Calendar Man or The Riddler seeking asylum from Batman's fists? At the embassy, Donna Troy works out a sweet deal with the government to allow the Titans a life free from being blamed for every little problem that crops up in New York.

Great negotiating, Donna! "Do whatever the government wants or be hunted like vermin!" She's the fucking Trump of the Titans.

The government's deal amounts to the same deal the Team Titans had already accepted in their future life. The government will provide them with basic necessities and education in exchange for working in small military groups united under some mysterious leader. They all jump at the chance to not do anything different with their lives, especially considering that the other option was to be shot on sight whenever they mentioned their stupid names. The government, with the help of gossip reporter Cokie Roberts, concoct a story to cover up the Titans murder of two hundred people. I know it was reported earlier by me that they only killed three dozen non-Titans. But it turns out, according to Cokie and the government, two hundred non-Titans were killed by the black hole. I suppose they're including all of Lazarium's henchmen and also all the people the government killed when they realized they had the perfect excuse to disappear them with the Titans' black hole. It's interesting that nobody worries about all the people killed in the black hole because that was an "accident" and yet everybody loses their minds when they think about Nightrider killing the guy ultimately responsible for it all. Maybe they're all just grossed out that he drank blood.

I'm just going to assume the Wonder Woman look-a-like's name is Frottage Girl.

Mirage feels badly about deceiving the public since she pretended to be Lazarium so that the world wouldn't know the Team Titans killed him. But Cokie Walters is all, "Don't fucking worry about it, slut! The news lies all the time!" I guess when you're a celebrity gossip reporter, you don't really worry too much about journalistic ethics. A proper reporter wouldn't have lied about this story. They would have just interviewed some government agent who would lie about the story and then they'd shrug their shoulders and go, "Well, I guess that's one side of the issue! If only there were somebody who could investigate the story to find out how true it is. I don't know who that would be though. A doctor? Or an astronaut? It's a mystery!" While the Team Titans film another puff piece with Cokie Walters, Donna Troy approaches Wonder Woman with a problem: she wants her powers back.

If the graph of an argument doesn't look like an ouroboros, Donna Troy wants no part of that argument.

Donna wants to petition the Greek Gods to get her powers back and she needs Diana to be her arbiter. Diana says, "You have my support in everything you do," and now I don't know why I'm so aroused.

Maybe it's due to panels like these that I can't help reading out of context.

Donna confronts the Titans, pleading with them to return her powers. But the Gods have a law: "No take backs. Too bad, so sad." So they send her back to Earth where she lands in the yard of Terry Long's ex-wife. She looks in the window and sees a happy family scene starring Terry and his ex-wife and Terry's daughter and their son. She lets her low self-esteem get the better of her and runs away thinking her marriage is probably over before she can hear Terry yell at his ex-wife for being a snarky jerk. So a happy ending for once! Team Titans #21 Rating:: C-. My main question for Marv Wolfman and Jeff Jensen is this: how the fuck did you manage to make a comic book with this much potential so fucking tedious?! Maybe you need to have a teenager's sense of drama to find any enjoyment out of this comic book at all. Killowat loves Mirage but he's a racist and she's all, "No way! Probably! We'll talk!" And Nightrider needs to eat people but he won't so he almost dies but then he eats a person! Donna Troy was happily married until she saw Terry and his ex-wife getting along for five seconds and now their marriage might be over! Battalion constantly calls people cheeseheads and their heads aren't even really made out of cheese! Terra loves Gar but Gar is all, "The boner you give me makes me feel guilty! Go away!" Redwing is all, "Prester Jon, my brother! We can finally hug!" But Prester Jon is all, "Ew! You're gross with the pointy ears and talons and veiny wings! Get away!" Also, what happened to Deathwing? I really hope Mirage dismembered him. Hopefully Jensen will devote a full issue for a flashback of that scene.