#and when carlos called him forty minutes later like hi baby are you okay? I thought you finished work at 4

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

Oh my god- yes- yes he absolutely would 😁😁😁

@pimento-playing-hopscotch TK would be driving the 4 hours down to search as Carlos tries to stop him.

[buckieys]

drop it ; tarlos

part four of bad things happen bingo: stitches

read on ao3 ; requested by @officereyes

“Okay, are you ready?” Michelle asked, noticing a big piece of glass embedded in TK’s arm. She looked at Carlos and mimed cutting in the air. “Are you sure you don’t want any anaesthetic?”

TK’s muffled reply came back seconds later, “I’m sure.”

“You’re positive? I have to cut your arm open to get this piece out and it’s going to hurt a lot,” Michelle replied, giving TK every opportunity to back out and get anaesthetised. He declined each time.

Michelle warned him when she was about to start and just heard him scream around the belt. She winced at the noise and listened to the man whimper. He was gripping Carlos’ shirt so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

“You’re okay, you’re alright,” Carlos muttered, running a hand through TK’s hair, shushing the other man as he sobbed around the belt.

TK wanted to pass out, he desperately wanted to pass out, the pain was too much to handle. He could feel Carlos’ hands in his hair, but he could feel Michelle’s hands on his arm, digging around inside the cut she’d made to get the debris out.

He tried to stay awake, he truly did, but there was a point where it was just too much to handle and he caved.

Carlos felt TK go slack, his belt fell out of TK’s mouth and he could see the teeth marks, he could see where his canines nearly pierced through the leather. TK’s grip on his shirt loosened and Carlos felt TK relax.

“Michelle, he passed out,” Carlos announced to the paramedic, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. He was worried about TK, knowing that his boyfriend had a propensity or inclination for hurting himself a lot. He had no reason to worry, though, TK was good at his job and it showed.

“Carlos, let me get this piece out, it’s the last piece unless there’s something underneath it, then you go out and do your job while I stitch him back up,” Michelle said, eyes never leaving TK’s arm.

Her tongue poked out between her lips as she focused on getting the glass out. There was blood all over her gloves and all over the rest of TK’s arm. She let out a groan as the grip she had on the glass slipped, causing her to start over.

“C’mon TK, you couldn’t have made this easy for me?” Michelle mumbled, repositioning herself, hoping the new angle would help. She went back to work, peeking up at Carlos every now and then.

“’Chelle, you almost done?” Carlos asked, his voice wavering a little bit. He tried to be strong for TK, but with TK passed out in his arms, he wasn’t really focused on coming off as strong.

“Yes, I’m almost done getting the glass out of your boyfriend’s arm, and then I’m going to need to stitch him up, so be patient,” Michelle shot back, glaring at Carlos through her eyelashes. “Now, if you get him up here on the gurney, I can stitch his arm up and let him rest up here, how does that sound?”

Carlos nodded and slowly started to stand up, letting Michelle hold TK’s arm up and position it as he set TK down on the gurney. She shooed him out of the ambulance to go do his job, promising that she would clean TK up and call Carlos back as soon as she finished.

Once Carlos left, Michelle turned back to TK and shook her head, unimpressed at the two men that tried to do her job without her present. Of course, TK had some training, but he shouldn’t have tried to do it himself.

She grabbed the tools she would need to stitch TK back up and quickly got to work. She never liked stitching people back up, claiming that her stitches were never good, but if TK didn’t come to medical immediately, he must’ve kept it to himself for a reason, and it wasn’t Michelle’s job to figure out why, but she had a thought as to what it might be.

The cut she made wasn’t massive. He didn’t need forty stitches or anything, so it only took five stitches to close the wound and then it took another ten minutes to carefully clean all the blood off his arm without irritating the stitches.

As promised, she exited the ambulance and immediately found Carlos, letting him know that TK was closed and cleaned up. Carlos left his position as part of crowd control and practically ran to the ambulance, finding TK stirring.

“Hey, careful baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

[reyesstrand]

96 and 100 for Tarlos!! 😘

thank you for your prompt!! 💗 this one turned out to be very fluffy so like...yeah! 

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like. also available on ao3! 

TK realizes that being in love — like, make-your-heart-sing  love — makes his long shifts sometimes unbearable. He loves what he does, and for the most part he can keep focused on the tasks at hand without letting his mind drift to what he could be doing instead of finishing reports or scrubbing down the rig. But when these twenty-four hour blocks start to bleed together, feeling like one long stretch of time on the job, he finds that he’s often counting down the minutes until the next team takes over. Tonight’s one of those nights, and he’s exhausted enough to realize that having the next forty-eight hours off is just what he’ll need to recharge. It definitely helps that even though Carlos works tomorrow, he’ll at least get to spend the night with him. 

He sees the tiredness hanging over the rest of the team, too — there have been some crazy calls over the last few hours, and all their muscles are aching and they’re desperate to sleep off all that they’ve witnessed. After he grabs his bag from his locker, TK takes the stairs two at a time to check in on his dad. 

Rapping his knuckles on the doorframe, TK pokes his head into his dad’s office, where Owen's focused on the laptop screen in front of him. “Hey, I’m heading out.” 

He pauses for a second, remembering the coughing fit his dad went into at the scene of the last kitchen fire they responded to. 

Quietly, he adds: “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Owen says, stretching his arms out over his head. It makes TK feel guilty — hell,  he’s always got that small pit of guilt that sits heavy in his stomach whenever he opts to spend time with Carlos instead of going home right after a shift — and he considers just texting his boyfriend that they’ll catch up over the next couple of days, and that he’s going to wait until his dad’s wrapped up and grab a ride home with him. His dad is able to read him like a book, though, always has, and he points a finger at him. “Go and have a good night, son.” 

“Are you sure?” TK’s positive that his hesitation is written all over his face, and Owen sighs at him. 

“I’m fine, kid, I won’t be too far behind you anyway,” Owen says, leaning back in his chair. 

TK mulls it over in his head before he adds: “I, uh, I probably won’t make it home tonight. I’ll text you.” 

Owen doesn’t press; he just gives him a look. “Nothing stupid?” 

TK huffs out a laugh. “No, I swear. It’s just Carlos.” 

“Ah,” Owen says, smiling now, and TK rolls his eyes before lifting a hand in a wave before his dad can try and get more information out of him. It’s been five of the best months of TK’s life, and his dad seems to sense it on him because he has nothing but nice things to say about Carlos. He heads back downstairs, smiling down at the be there in five message on his phone as he steps out into the pleasantly cool evening. An all-too familiar car slows down in front of him after a few minutes of waiting, and TK’s already feeling more awake as he opens the passenger door and slips in. 

“Hey,” Carlos’ voice is honey-sweet, and TK accepts the quick kiss as he deals with the seatbelt. 

“Hey,” TK says, a little breathless, settling into the comfort of Carlos’ presence while the other man drives off. He’s out of uniform, dark-grey shirt hugging his arms, and TK doesn’t even try to hide his obvious staring. 

“So, did you want to go grab some food or something?” 

TK fiddles with his phone, tapping it against the heel of his palm. “I was just thinking we could head to your place?” 

Carlos nods. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

“I’m just tired,” TK quietly admits, not ready to add that he seems to get the best sleep whenever he’s curled up with his boyfriend. Instead of admitting that, he clears his throat. “It’s been a long shift.” 

“I get it,” Carlos says, sparing a glance at him, moving one hand off the wheel to grab TK’s fidgeting hand to thread their fingers together. 

They get to Carlos’ place, and he practically beelines for the bedroom, Carlos turning off lights behind them as they go. It’s almost midnight, and TK can feel his eyelids growing heavier with every passing minute. As he pulls off his shirt and pants and kicks off his shoes, he watches as Carlos does the same, and he ungracefully plops onto the bed. Carlos pulls the covers over him, and drops a kiss just above his eyebrow, and TK has never felt so deeply and effortlessly loved. 

“I’m sorry,” TK whispers, eyes moving all over Carlos’ face. “I feel like you wanted to do something more fun than just...sleeping.” 

“I can’t think of anything better than this, Ty, seriously,” Carlos says, already opening his arms. “Come here.”

TK goes, immediately feeling more calm wash over him as Carlos curls his arms around him, his chest pressed to TK’s back, feeling comforted by the feeling of the steady rhythm of Carlos’ heartbeat between his shoulder blades. He settles into the embrace, ducking his chin forward to press a kiss to Carlos’ hand. 

“Besides,” Carlos starts talking, picking up the dropped conversation, his words mostly whispered into TK’s ear. “This is how I get the best sleep. Just being able to hold you makes me feel right. And you’re the only one I wanna wake up to, preferably for as long as you’ll let me. Never apologize for wanting this, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” TK mutters, running his fingers absently up and down Carlos’ forearm, already feeling sleep pull at him as he slurs, “I feel the same, by the way. I feel like I don’t tell you enough how much I care about you.” 

Carlos takes a few long seconds to respond, to let the words hang in the air between them. The last thing TK hears before he’s gone to the world is, "don't worry, TK, I know."

* * *

TK doesn’t know how long he’s out for, but the early morning sunlight’s streaming into the room when he eventually blinks open his eyes. He stretches out his limbs and he feels Carlos press a kiss just under his jaw. 

He remembers all too quickly that Carlos is stuck with a day shift, and if he hasn’t left yet it probably means that he’s going to have to go sooner than he’d prefer; he wishes he could stay in bed and cherish these moments as long as possible but Carlos eventually heaves a sigh and starts moving to get out of bed. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” TK asks, even though he knows there’s no chance of Carlos risking being late; TK's the same, always hating it but leaving his boyfriend nonetheless when he has to get to work. 

Carlos hums against his shoulder, squeezing him tight once more. “I wish I could, but McCoy’s out this week so I’ve got a rookie with me. Can’t be setting a bad example.” 

TK lets out a garbled, muttered noise in agreement, though he still sits up when Carlos moves off the bed, beginning his morning routine. TK watches him for a few moments, but he still feels exhausted, and Carlos seems to pick up on it because he crosses the room to stand on his side of the bed — which seems like a big thing, for TK to have a determined side of Carlos’ bed — and runs a hand through TK’s hair, eventually bringing his palm down to drag his thumb along TK’s jaw.

TK sighs, and leans into the touch, this act of allowing himself to feel vulnerable still a new thing. He only opens his eyes when Carlos starts talking to him. 

“Get some more sleep, Ty,” Carlos says, and TK starts to protest, saying something about going back to his own place so he’s not imposing, only for Carlos to interject. “You can stay here without me, you know. But if you do leave, let me know what you’re up to later and maybe we can do something when I’m off shift.” 

“Sounds like a plan, baby,” TK replies weakly, his mind a little too muddled with sleep, but he definitely picks up on the warmth spreading through his chest at Carlos’ insistence that he belongs here; that his home is open to his presence. 

With a quick kiss pressed to his temple, Carlos pulls away to go shower, not without murmuring, “I’ll see you later, cariño,” into his hair first. TK slumps back down, face turned into Carlos’ pillow, as he contentedly lets sleep take over once more.

[jynxes]

Leather n’ Red - Reggie Peters

Summary: Much like the deceased boys of Sunset Curve, Duchess died right before the gig that could’ve been her band’s big break. Thing is, she left the dark room a little earlier than they did, made a couple friends and learned a few tricks. What will happen when she and the boys can be seen when singing with Julie, the only alive person that can see them all? 

Paring: Reggie Peters x Duchess Himura (OC)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: This is my first JATP fic so I’m sorry if some parts seem ooc. Also this book can be found on Wattpad if you prefer to read it there.

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Prologue // The Ballerina Necklace

June 25, 2005, The Orpheum

"Come on! One, two, three!" Marisa yells, hitting her drumsticks together before we begin the soundcheck.

Danielle begins strumming her guitar and we start singing.

"Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together I need the other one to hold you Make you feel, make you feel better It's not a walk in the park to love each other But when our fingers interlock, can't deny, can't deny, you're the worth it

Some things just, some things just make sense And one of those is you and I Some things just, some things just make sense And even after all this time

I'm into you Baby not a day goes by that I'm not into you

I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you And even baby our worst nights I'm into you, I'm into you Let 'em wonder how we got this far, 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah after all this time I'm still into you I'm still into you I'm still into you."

We finish and Danielle runs over to my mic, "We're Moonrise Edge!"

"Tell your friends!" I chime in with a smile and pick up my keytar from the song before Still Into You. We're all smiling and can't wait for tonight, tonight we're the opening act in the Orpheum, I KNOW, how amazing is that?!

"We KILLED that sound check! It was amazing!" Marisa says after giving me a quick kiss.

"Yeah, too bad it was only a soundcheck. Tonight is gonna be amazing though, it's gonna be PACKED with people and we're definitely gonna get signed by a label if we perform like that," Dani brags.

"For sure! Then we're gonna sell a bunch of albums and get a tour!" I begin adding onto the fantasy we're gonna live after we perform tonight.

"Wow, you guys were great," a voice says, and we turn, who is it but rock god TREVOR WILSON.

While I'm too busy freaking out internally Marisa is completely calm, "Thanks dude, we can't wait to open for you tonight."

"It is gonna be awesome," Dani grins.

"Oh! We didn't introduce ourselves, I'm Marisa, this is Danielle, or Dani," she says pointing to the dark-skinned girl, "And finally this is Duchess or Doll," the Hispanic girl points to me.

"Well I think you're definitely gonna go far," Trevor compliments, "What got you guys into music?"

"Thanks," I finally find my voice, "We were always kinda into music but then we heard of this old band that was kinda big like, I don't know, ten years ago? It was called Sunset Curve, some of them died from like food poisoning or something. Anyway, we heard their demo and loved it so much that we wanted to become a band."

"Yeah, that's why we chose the name 'Moonrise Edge' because of 'Sunset Curve' it was supposed to be a bit like a joke but then we started getting gig so it kinda stuck," Marisa adds on.

"Oh, okay, well I gotta go do my soundcheck," Trevor says hurriedly, seeming to get really nervous.

"Okay, see you later," Dani yells after him.

"That was weird," Marisa says.

"Yeah, it was. I wonder what it was all about," I say before putting my hand in the pocket of my leather jacket, feeling around.

"He's famous, famous people are always weird and doing weird stuff," Dani rationalizes, when I feel nothing in my pockets, I begin patting down my red flannel skirt.

"Whatever, let's just get back to our dressing room," Marisa suggests, then she turns to me, "What is with you? What are you looking for?"

"I can't find my necklace," I say, fumbling in my bag, "Where is it?"

"Why do you even need your necklace?" Dani says, "I know it's your lucky charm, but we just played that soundcheck and crushed it, meaning you don't need it to play well."

"I know, I know, it's just that I've had the necklace for each of our gigs and we always crushed it. Soundchecks don't matter, the gigs do, so it's the same with the necklace," I explain, I've had the necklace with me for each milestone of the band. When we heard Sunset Curve's demo, when we formed Moonrise Edge, when we got our first gig and finally when we were asked to play the Orpheum.

"Look, it might be in the dressing room, let's check, yeah?" Marisa says helpfully.

"Okay, yeah, let's check," I say, and we enter the dressing room. We search and we search, and we search, and the necklace is nowhere to be found.

"Wait, I think I remember where it is!" Dani yells suddenly.

"Where? Where?" I ask worriedly.

"Do you remember when we were at Mari's and we were getting changed?"

"Yeah," I say, "Get to the point!"

"It fell off in Mari's room. I told you when we were leaving, and I thought you got it because you were the last to leave. You mustn't have heard me," Dani sighs.

"Oh damn!" I facepalm, "What time is it?"

"Right now it is 6:17pm," Marisa looks at the clock.

"Okay, it's a ten-minute drive each way, just drive to mine and you'll be back with plenty of time to perform," Marisa says calmly, trying to soothe my nerves.

"Okay, okay, I'll go get it, Dani do you mind if I take your car?" I ask, while grabbing my bag.

"Sure, think fast," she says, throwing me her keys.

I catch them and begin running out the door, "I'll be right back!"

"See you, I love you, Doll," Marisa shouts.

"I love you too Mari!"

I get into Dani's car and turn the key, I reverse out of the parking spot and get out onto the road. I take the right turn and stop at the red light. I go ahead when the light turns green but suddenly, I'm going sideways, I feel a pain in my side then all I can see is black.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪

July 15, 2020

I've been in this dark room for like forty-five minutes now. It's pretty boring. Basically what happened was that when I began driving again after the light turned green some asshole decided not to stop for HIS red light and he hit into me. The car turned sideways and smashed into a building, I was dead before the car stopped moving. Then I floated out of the car, I knew I was dead, and I was transported to this weird dark room. And here I am.

I start to hear music, then I realize it's Still Into You from the Moonrise Edge demo, then the music is distorted, and the ground of the dark room seems to dissolve.

I scream a little as I fall on my back. I then stand up and look around, I'm in someone's room. Then I hear the voice of a little boy.

"Who are you?" I turn around and see a Latino boy about ten or eleven with his jaw dropped.

"I- uh, I'm Duchess, who are you?" I stutter out.

"I'm Carlos, what are you doing in my room?"

"I actually have no idea," I tell him, "Last thing I remember is dying and then being in this dark room with nothing in it."

"You're dead?!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, wait, you're not? Where even am I?" I'm getting really confused now.

"You're in my room," he repeats from before, "In Los Feliz. How did you die?"

"I- Los Feliz? Wait, that where Mari lives," I realize, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

"Who's Mari?" Carlos asks.

"Mari's my girlfriend, the drummer in my band," I overexplain to him for some reason.

"You're in a band? Cool! What's it called?"

"Moonrise Edge, we were supposed to play the Orpheum last night," I say, running my hand through my dark hair, "Wait, I wonder what they did, since I died and everything. Do you know what they did?"

"No, but I can look it up if you want," he says.

"Sure," I say.

"I'll be right back," he says before leaving the room. I walk around the room, looking at a baseball bat in the corner and a jersey lying on the bed with the number 7 on it.

Then Carlos comes rushing back into the room with some kind of device in his hand, "Okay, I've got my iPad, now what was the band called again?"

"Uh, Moonrise Edge," I say, suspicious of this 'iPad' device.

"Wow, you were in a band, and you did die, but not last night," he says, after typing on the device.

"What do you mean not last night?" I say, super confused at this point.

"You died in 2005, right?"

"Yes..."

"Well it's not 2005 anymore," he says carefully.

"What do you mean it's not 2005 anymore? I was only in that dark room for like forty-five minutes!"

"It's now 2020, you died fifteen years ago," he explains.

"WHAT!? IT'S BEEN FIFTEEN YEARS! I SPENT FIFTEEN YEARS IN SOLITUDE!?" I exclaim.

"Okay, uh, calm down, it's okay. It's okay, look, you're not alone anymore, you've got me. I'll help you with anything you need," Carlos tries to comfort me.

"But-but it wasn't that long, how has it been fifteen years?" I question.

"That, I don't know. All I know is that I'm here to keep you company, if you want. I can help you find out what happened to your bandmates, you parents or whatever and I'll get you up to speed on what you missed."

"You'd do that for me? Why?"

"Because, ghosts are pretty cool," he says simply.

"Okay aha, can we start with what happened to my bandmates?" I ask him.

"Yeah sure," he sits on his bed and ushers me to sit next to him.

"This," he points to the device in his hand, "is an iPad, it's like a computer but it's just the screen and it has a touchscreen, you use it like this," he explains, swiping his finger along the surface.

He then explains to me how to search things on it and looks up what happened to Dani and Marisa. Apparently, they went on and played the Orpheum gig without me, which I'm not mad about I mean they worked as hard as I did to get there, they deserved to play the gig. After playing they split up the band after that, believed to have done it out of respect for me, and became solo acts. Mari got signed to a label and was asked to join a band named 4 Orchids they've done a few tours and now she's living somewhere in New York. Dani went on to become a solo act and was also signed onto a label, she's done tours and collaborations and now she's living in San Francisco.

Carlos told me that if I wanted to stay in the garage behind his house. He told me that it was his mom's studio but ever since she sadly passed away last year no one's went into it. I thanked him and told him I was gonna stick around.

Then I decided to go and explore the streets of Los Angeles, see how things have changed since I died. I got to meet some cool celebrities that are dead, but I didn't make any friends today. I got to see Marilyn Monroe, gotta say, she's as hot in person as she was on film.

Before I go back to Carlos's house, I go to the house that Mari used to live in, which turns out to be next door to Carlos's. She doesn't live there anymore, but her parents do.

I walk in the hall and see the photos of Mari growing up, a couple pictures of her now and a picture of Mari, Dani and I before our first gig when we were 15. Then when I go into the living room where I see Mari's parents, Lydia and Victor, are watching something on TV. I see more picture of Mari with her parents, some with Mari and me, one of our unofficial pictures from prom, some with Mari and Dani and some with Mari and her cousins.

I go up the stairs and see Mari's bed is more or less the same as it was when I was still alive. When I go to her desk, I see my necklace lying there with a sticky note, 'Doll's necklace' is what's written. I lift my necklace and inspect the charm, the ballerina dangling from the chain. I take it and clasp it around my neck before leaving to go to Carlos's garage.

I explore Carlos's mom's studio and it's kinda cool. Up in the loft there are drums and a couple guitars, and also a bag of clothes, I don't know who owns the clothes so I'm not gonna take them. I check out the couch and it seems pretty comfortable, I lay down on it and try to go to sleep. After a few hours I realize that I don't actually need sleep, but it's an easy way to pass time.

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[chicgeekgirl89]

Vacation All I Ever Wanted: Chapter 4

Find Chapter 1 here

Find Chapter 2 here

Find Chapter 3 here

Kensi woke the next morning to an empty bed. Her body hurt and when she moved her head she found it throbbed. Groaning, she threw a hand over her eyes. Vacation sucked.

Struggling out from beneath the covers she walked into the bathroom, wincing when she saw the bruises around her throat. She was going to come home from vacation looking more battered than when she’d left.

The door to the room opened and Deeks returned. “Hey,” he said upon seeing her out of bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Worse than when we got here,” she griped.

“Oh baby,” he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “What if I told you I’d booked us a couples massage for later?”

That perked her up a little bit. “Really?”

“And I found you some donuts.”

She took the bag from him and sat down on the bed. “No sprinkles?”

He joined her. “We’re in the middle of the ocean Fern. I did the best I could. I also bought you this.”

He pulled out the largest sunhat she’d ever seen and plopped it on her head. “Vacation photos fixed! No one will ever know you nearly had your head bashed in.”

She glared at him and took a large bite of donut. “You are not funny.”

His fingers came up and slid the strap of her tank top down her shoulder so he could better examine the bruises on her neck. “Carlos and Brooklyn better hope I don’t find this guy first.”

“He better hope I don’t find him first,” Kensi mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.

“He’s going to have to be some kind of record breaking hide and seek champ to keep us away,” Deeks said. “Name is Diego Sánchez. Born in Cartagena. He’s been on this ship for three years.”

Kensi raised her eyebrows.

“I went up to the bridge and called Callen this morning,” he told her.

She swallowed. “You did what?”

“This is getting out of hand. It was one thing when ATF was ‘handling’ it but now you’re hurt and it’s gone too far. I wanted to make sure somebody was taking care of it.”

“And?”

“ATF has been on it for a year. The captain is aware of the ongoing investigation and also aware that they’ve made really negligible progress. Carlos and Brooklyn got handed the case six months ago and managed to narrow things down to this particular ship. Supposedly they’re the best ATF has got.”

“ATF needs to dig a little deeper.”

“I guess they’re playing the long con on this one. They don’t want to bring anybody in until they’ve got enough evidence to shut the whole thing down. Callen’s going to keep digging and let us know if they find anything.”

“They are never going to let us live this vacation down,” Kensi sighed, flopping back onto the pillows.

“Nope,” Deeks flopped next to her. “But we don’t care what they think, right?”

“I do. Kind of,” she wrinkled her nose at him.

He kissed the tip of it and then trailed a few kisses down her collarbone over the bruises mottling her skin. “Are you going to kiss them better?” she asked.

“Standard medical procedure,” he teased.

Things were just starting to get interesting when there was knock on the door. Deeks’ face was hovering inches from Kensi’s and he hung his head. “I’m going to need a vacation from this vacation.” He collapsed onto her and she laughed. “Get off! You’ve gained too much vacation weight!”

He lifted glared at her. “Says the woman eating donuts in bed.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t eat two of them on your way back. I could smell the chocolate on you from a mile away.”

He poked her playfully in the ribs as the knock sounded again, more insistently this time. “God, housekeeping is persistent around here,” he groaned. As he walked to the door Kensi beaned him in the back of the head with the wadded up sunhat. “You will pay for that,” he told her. He pulled the door open to reveal Brooklyn. “Well you’re not the pizza man.”

She pushed past him into the compartment. “I was coming to check on Kensi, but then I heard that you’d made a visit to the captain this morning.”

Kensi reached for her robe, pulling it around her shoulders. “Wow, privacy much?” she asked.

“You had no business asking around about us!” Brooklyn cried.

“Whoa, listen lady, my partner got hurt last night because of your inability to close this case. When stuff like starts to happen I’m going to be looking for some answers,” Deeks told her.

“You’ve been on this ship for five minutes and you think you can just step right in and take over? Oh that’s so LAPD,” she scoffed.

“If you would do your job maybe we wouldn’t have to!” Kensi said acidly.

“We’re switching our dinner table. Stay the hell away from our case.”

“We don’t want your case! We just want you to do your job!”

Brooklyn reached for the doorknob. “Hetty Lange doesn’t scare me. Back off or I’ll go over her head.”

“Oh yeah?” Deeks yelled. “Hope you don’t like to sleep at night because she’s broken into people’s houses for less than that!”

He looked at Kensi who raised her eyebrows. “What? She has.”

The door slammed shut and Brooklyn was gone. “Well she’s just lovely. I think we should stay Facebook friends after we get home,” Deeks said.

Kensi fell back onto the bed in a fit of laughter and Deeks pounced, picking up right where they’d left off.

“Look at them. Just sitting there talking about boring people stuff.” Kensi stabbed at her dinner, her eyes fixed across the room on their former tablemates.

“Okay, baby, listen, I know you’re frustrated but that is like a forty dollar steak you’re destroying right there,” Deeks said, gently removing the fork from her hand.

“Oh,” she looked down and grimaced. “It’s not enough they have to interrupt all of our vacation activities, they have to ruin food too?”

“What hellions,” Deeks agreed, taking a bite of his own steak.

“Everyone’s looking at us now because we’re alone.”

“I don’t think anybody’s looking at us. I think they’re eating. Which is what you should be doing because honestly I think you’re a little hangry right now.”

She glared at him. “You took my fork.”

“Do you promise not to throw it across the room and stab Brooklyn?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. But I might stab you if you don’t give it back.”

He returned the utensil to her, catching her hand as he did so. “Hi.”

She took a deep breath. “Hi.”

“Guess that massage this afternoon didn’t quite have the desired effect huh?”

“Sorry. This whole thing is just really getting under my skin. I hate that there’s some asshole running around here delivering weapons to some other assholes and THOSE assholes,” she jerked her head in the direction of the other table, “aren’t doing anything about it.”

“I know. They are assholes who are bad at their jobs. And we are superheroes who solve every crime with time to spare.”

“Damn right we do,” she grumbled. “I hope those other couples are talking about golf. And the PTO. And direct sales businesses.”

“Wow. You’re harsh.”

She met his eyes, full of laughter and smiled. “Fine. I’m done now.” She took a bite of her meal. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Tequila tasting.”

“Well that should make me forget about them.”

“I was hoping it would.”

[miraculouspaon]

What You Have Tamed

Chapter One: Carmen

AO3

Ferd’s oldest sister Carmen was normally a very careful driver. Normally, though, she wasn't driving to pick up her baby brother after he'd been held hostage by the local mob for a week. She pulled up next to the sidewalk so fast that Ferd instinctively jumped back, screeched to a halt, and practically flew out of the driver’s seat.

“Ferdy!”

“Hi, Carmen,” Ferd said. “Thanks for-” Carmen cut him off with a frantic embrace.

“Oh, God, what did they do to you?”

“Nothing, I'm fine, it's-”

“How safe are you?” Carmen asked frantically, pulling away suddenly and looking back and forth down either side of the road. “Do we need to get you out of the city? The country? Are-”

“Carmen, calm down, it's fine,” Ferd said. “We don't need to worry about the Morenos anymore.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Really?” she asked skeptically. “After a week of refusing to let you go, no matter what I did, after I harassed everybody I could reach, after I dragged the police into it, and nothing had any effect at all, now they're letting you go just like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ferd replied. Carmen’s eyebrow went up further, and Ferd sighed. “Okay, to make a long story short, Hector had his brother under some kind of loyalty spell. Jonathan broke it, and Javier immediately grabbed power back. Javier says he now owes me a great debt, which by the way I have no intention of ever cashing in, and I'm pretty sure I won't be hearing from Hector ever again.” He paused. “Actually, I'm pretty sure nobody will be hearing from Hector ever again.”

Carmen blinked. “Oh,” she said. She looked around. “Wait, where is Jonathan?”

“He, um, he's on his way back to Paris.”

Carmen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You let him leave? What is wrong with you? The man flies halfway across Europe to rescue you, and you-”

“Ugh, Carmen, don't yell at me right now,” Ferd groaned. “I’ve just had the worst week of my life, I'm not in the mood.”

Carmen pressed her lips together. It was clearly requiring a great effort on her part to stop mid-lecture, but she managed. “You're right, I'm sorry.” She paused. “Although sometimes, Ferd, I swear it's like you don't think at all before you-sorry, I'll stop.” Carmen sighed and looked at her brother more closely. “All right, if we don't need to get you out of the country, we should take you to a hospital.”

“No.”

“You could have a concussion, Ferd. What did they-”

“Carmen, please, can we just go home?”

Carmen pursed her lips again. “Fine,” she said, “if you promise to tell me the second you start feeling nauseous, or dizzy, or foggy-headed, or you're getting a headache, or your pupils are dilating, or-”

“First of all,” Ferd interrupted, “I can't watch my own pupils. Second, it is really disconcerting how you can rattle off the symptoms of a concussion at the drop of a hat.”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Four kids, two grandkids so far, and not a lick of self-preservation instinct in any one of them. Of course I know what the symptoms of a concussion are.” She sighed. “All right, let’s go home.”

~~~

Ferd filled his sister in on the details of his abduction during the hour long drive back to their mother’s B&B in La Mancha. Ferd had been staying there for a few weeks now, since the semester he’d spent teaching in Madrid had ended. She continued to make an annoyed face whenever Jonathan came up in the retelling of it. Carmen was the oldest of five kids, had raised four of her own, and was a very involved grandmother, so she’d spent most of her sixty years on Earth looking after others. Scolding came very, very naturally to her. But nurturing also came naturally to Carmen, and it wasn’t exactly hard to tell that her brother needed a break right now.

Of course, she could also tell there were parts of the story Ferd wasn’t telling her, and nothing came more naturally to her than getting secrets out of people.

She held back for a little over a week. The rest of the family was overjoyed at Ferd’s return, which obviously was to be expected. But it was also clearly a little exhausting for Ferd, who’d been living on his own since his twenties and didn’t always fall back so easily into the dynamics of a giant family.

Carmen found Ferd out by the little garden out back one afternoon, sitting on a bench by himself and watching their mother’s chickens wander the yard. She sat down next to him.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, fine,” Ferd replied easily. “I was enjoying the first moment I got to myself in this place, until you showed up,” he added, with a teasing grin.

“Are you sure?” Carmen asked gently. “After everything that’s happened to you, if you needed some time… nobody would blame you, if you took another semester off. You could stay here, I know Mom would love to-”

“No,” Ferd interrupted. “I appreciate it, but I have to get back to Paris. I miss the university, my students. I love it here, but after everything… I don’t know, Carmen, I’m just homesick more than anything, I guess.”

Carmen nodded. They sat in an easy silence for a while. It was Carmen who finally broke it.

“I still can't believe you let Jonathan go back to Paris,” she said.

Ferd tensed. “Well I can't believe you called him in the first place,” he replied defensively. “Do you have any idea how awkward that was? How surreal?”

“He got you out, didn't he? I would have called a hundred of your ex-boyfriends if it got you back.”

“Thanks, Carmen, that's sweet,” Ferd said dryly. “Although I feel compelled to point out that, technically, Jonathan isn't an ex. You have to date first to be an ex.”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Is that why you let him leave?” she asked. “You're still mad he never called you back?”

“I'm not mad about that,” Ferd insisted.

“You should have heard him when I called,” Carmen said. “I'd spent days calling everyone I could think of, and nobody could help, or would help, not if it meant going against the Morenos. I was either yelling or pleading until I was blue in the face, I was tearing my hair out, Ferdy. But then I called Jonathan, and…” Carmen sighed and looked at her brother. “Ferd, I don't think I even finished the sentence before he was online buying a ticket for the next flight to Madrid. Just, ‘Ferd’s in trouble,’ that's all I needed to say. After eight years.”

“Oh,” Ferd said quietly, not meeting his sister’s gaze. “Huh.”

“So what happened, that saving you wasn't enough for you to want him to stick around?”

“It's not like I made him leave,” Ferd lied.

“He would have stayed if you'd asked and you know it.”

Ferd took a moment to gather his thoughts. “He got caught at first. The initial rescue went south,” Ferd explained. “So we were imprisoned together. For hours. And I gave him a hard time about never calling, because I'm an idiot I guess, and he snapped and told me why he never did. And, uh… it was a really good reason, Carmen.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out that before we met, he… our paths crossed, I guess you could say. He did something that had a pretty negative effect on my life, and he figured if I knew about it I wouldn't be interested in dating.” Ferd laughed and leaned back. “I thought he was right, too. A week ago I thought I'd be mad about it forever. And now… I don't know. I'm less sure about that.”

Carmen scoffed. “You never stay mad about anything,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ferd agreed, “I guess that’s true.” He fell silent again.

“So now what?” Carmen asked after a minute.

“So now…” Ferd looked down at his hands, tapping his thumbs together nervously for a moment. “Okay, maybe I'm not so mad,” he admitted, “but there's a world of difference between not being mad about something and actually forgiving it, you know?”

“This terrible thing he did,” Carmen asked, “it was over eight years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“And are you over it?”

Ferd shrugged. “Yeah, for the most part. As much as anyone can be over anything, I guess.”

“And is it still negatively impacting your life?”

“Well… no, my life's pretty much back on track now.”

“And he’s sorry?”

Ferd considered this silently for a moment. “Yeah, you know, I really think he is,” he said.

“And he's not going to do it again?”

Ferd laughed. “No, definitely not.”

“So what's the problem?”

Ferd sighed. “You wouldn't say that if you knew-”

“Oh, just tell me what he did.” Carmen interrupted impatiently.

Ferd hesitated. “I don't know if-”

“You know I'll get it out of you eventually anyway, Ferdy.”

Ferd considered this for a moment. “Okay,” he finally said, “but you can't tell anyone.”

“Fine,” Carmen agreed easily.

“No, seriously, Carmen, I mean it,” Ferd said. His voice was suddenly hard, serious, almost unfamiliar. “I know how secrets work in this family,” he continued. “People say they won't tell, and then forty-eight hours later Mom’s on the phone talking about it with her second cousins and it's all, ‘Oh, I didn't think you meant Carlos, obviously I was going to tell Carlos,’ or, ‘Well Izzy asked, what was I supposed to say?’ and I'm telling you right now that cannot happen this time. You can't tell your husband, you can't tell Mom, you can't tell anybody, got it?”

Carmen’s eyes widened. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I promise. Nobody will hear anything from me about it.”

Ferd took a deep breath and let it out. “He akumatized me.”

It took Carmen a moment to place the verb, which had far less significance outside of Paris, but then her expression cleared. “That's it?” she asked.

Ferd’s jaw dropped. “That's it? Really?”

Carmen shrugged. “I'm not trying to minimize it, I know it was awful for you at the time, but… I don't know, that just doesn't seem like it would be a dealbreaker for you.”

Ferd narrowed his eyes. “That is the absolute last reaction I was expecting.”

“You're making a very big deal out of this, Ferdy, it's not like you.”

“No,” Ferd said, “I'm pretty sure I'm understating it, actually.”

“The only thing I'm confused about,” Carmen said slowly, “is why you didn't recognize him. Besides, I thought the person who akumatized you was someone you already knew. Someone named… Paul somebody?”

It took Ferd a moment to figure out what his sister was talking about. “Oh!” he exclaimed, suddenly understanding. “No, no, no, you completely misunderstood what I said. Anyway, Paul didn't akumatize me, he just pissed me off enough that I was vulnerable to it.”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Same difference.”

“It really isn't,” Ferd said.

“Well, under that definition the person who akumatized you was… was…” Carmen gasped suddenly and covered her mouth in shock.

“Thank you,” Ferd said, “that is the reaction I was looking for.”

“My God, Ferd! Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Jonathan?” Carmen said, disbelieving. “Jonathan is the evil butterfly man?”

“You know, I don't think that was his official title,” Ferd replied dryly. “But yeah. Apparently that was him.”

“Did he say why?”

Ferd shrugged. “Something about saving his sister. She went missing. I didn't really ask too many follow-up questions.”

Carmen was silent for a while. “You kissed a supervillain, Ferdy.”

Ferd sighed. “Yep.”

~~~

Ferd returned to Paris a week later, as soon as his mother could finally bear to part with him. His departure was a crowded and noisy affair, like everything in Ferd’s family, and so Ferd almost didn’t notice when Carmen pressed something into his hand as she embraced him. He looked at it, then raised an eyebrow at his sister.

“Is this the phone number I think it is?” he asked.

“Can’t hurt to have it,” she replied. “Whatever else he is, Jonathan seems like a resourceful friend to have in a pinch. And you seem to attract trouble lately, Ferdy.”

For a moment Ferd looked like he wanted to protest, but then he shrugged and slipped the number into his pocket before hugging Carmen again. “Thanks for everything,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have gotten back if it hadn’t been for you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carmen said affectionately, “this whole family would fall apart without me, I know.”

For the first few weeks back, Ferd was too busy to think for very long about anything other than teaching. But then the chaos of a newly beginning semester died down, and Ferd found his thoughts wandering back to the same place over and over.

Alone in his apartment one afternoon, a few weeks after classes had begun, Ferd pulled out the number his sister had given him. It was wearing out quickly, and would probably soon become unreadable. Not that it mattered, since Ferd had looked at it so many times he’d memorized it by now.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Ferd started to go over his interactions with Jonathan from eight years ago, reinterpreting everything now that he knew the truth.

To begin, there was that look of horror on Jonathan’s face when Ferd had casually mentioned being akumatized. At the time, Ferd assumed Jonathan was a fellow victim, or at least that he'd been traumatizingly close to one of the attacks, but now it was clear what Jonathan’s reaction had actually been.

Guilt.

And his insistence at breaking the hex for free, his downright irritation when Ferd had suggested paying him for the work or even reimbursing Jonathan’s travel expenses, that had been guilt, too. Jonathan hadn't been coming on to Ferd at all, he'd just been trying to atone.

The awkwardness between Jonathan and his sister. That, Ferd hadn't even tried to explain to himself at the time. It had completely baffled him. The woman had been missing and presumed dead for four years. Ferd was pretty sure if something like that had happened to one of his sisters, nobody in the family would ever let her out of their sight, or ever stop embracing her, ever again. But Jonathan and Adele had barely touched at all. Adele had hugged Ferd, and not her own brother.

It made sense now.

And then, the kiss.

That heat. Jonathan’s eager surrender. That brief, blissful moment when Ferd had been so certain Jonathan wanted him as much as he wanted Jonathan. Was there some new interpretation of that, too, now that Ferd knew who Jonathan was?

No. Ferd hadn't misinterpreted any of that. Every other moment of their brief time together, maybe, but not that.

I really like you, Ferd. But… I can't right now, I wish I could, but…

And then, nothing. For eight years.

To be fair, Ferd had mostly stopped thinking about Jonathan after the first year. Ferd wasn't one to dwell on lost love, or what might have been. He’d made his interest clear and placed the ball firmly in Jonathan’s court. Ferd had figured if Jonathan didn't want him, that was Jonathan’s loss. Ferd had hoped for something, he hadn't gotten it, he'd moved on.

And then he'd been kidnapped. And Jonathan had come running.

How much of that was guilt?

Probably a lot, honestly. Ferd could hear it in the numb tone of Jonathan’s confession, and in that quiet self-loathing right before he left, when he said he'd never be able to make up for what he'd done.

But it wasn't entirely guilt, was it? There'd been more. The shadow of a grin when Ferd had laughed at his joke. The way Jonathan’s breath had caught when he'd bent over Ferd to remove his handcuffs, their faces mere centimeters apart. His insistence, that he'd meant everything he'd said back then.

Whatever they'd had eight years ago, it was still there. Ferd just had to decide if he was crazy enough to do anything about it.

If you ever need something, if you ever want my help again for any reason…

Ferd looked back at the number.

Oh, what the hell, Ferd finally thought to himself, as he pulled out his phone and began dialing. Life was short, and he was overdue for a midlife crisis anyway.

[in-the-bookish-dark]

That First Story

The avocado colored formica with sparkles that was around the sink would’ve looked nice if it weren’t for the cigarette burns all down the edge.  Well, maybe nice if it was twenty years newer or wasn’t chipped all over or actually had places where the finish itself hadn’t gotten rubbed off by the maids.

Richie took his teaspoon of asthma medicine and brushed his teeth fast to get the taste out of his mouth. He rapped on the bathroom door and yelled to his mom in the shower, “I’m going to sit over by the car until you’re ready!”

He didn’t wait for an answer.  The answer would be either yes or no, but either way he was going out the door.  She wasn’t going to bother to stop her shower just to chase after him.  

He ran past the cigarette half-burned out on the credenza, and the one burned down to the filter on the little table next to the window. They stank the worst when they were down to the filter.

The parking lot reeked of diesel fumes from Santa Fe Drive, all of it drifting toward the bluff right behind the motel.  Santa Fe was the one route into Pueblo from the mesa, and usually the first road people hit on their way from the CF&I.  The road was thick with trucks, sometimes so much that it looked like a convoy, bumper to bumper, belching out black clouds.

It was still better than sitting inside.  Whatever chemicals were in the diesel clouds burned his lungs less than the decades of built-up cigarette smoke inside the motel room.

He dropped down on the curb next to Johnny’s Olds 88.  Johnny had gone next door to the EZ-Stop while his mom was showering.  Richie would wait on the back side of the car until then.

He counted the trucks and tried to calculate how many trucks a minute it was.  He imagined himself walking, steady as a metronome, like he always did. A hundred and twenty steps a minute.  He ticked it off in his head as he watched the road, and popped up a finger on his right hand for every semi.  For every handful on his right, he’d pop up a finger on his left.  If he made it all the way through the fingers on his left hand, he’d cock up his right foot and keep going.  Both feet would give him a count of fifty trucks, and he didn’t think it could be more than that, however busy the road was.  By the time his brain got to a hundred and twenty, his hands and feet had gotten to forty seven.  That would be just a little more than one semi every second and a half, which was a lot more than he guessed.

Johnny came past and was almost to the motel door when he stopped and looked over at Richie.  He eyed the corner of his car that Richie was nearest to. “Hey, kid – do yourself a favor and don’t get anything on the Delmont.  That’s a custom paint job and I don’t want some snotnose fucking it up.”

Johnny always talked like that when they were alone. When Richie's mom was around, though, Johnny was polite and friendly.  He sounded like an English teacher or something then.  His mom never saw the difference and never even heard Richie when he tried to explain.

Johnny popped the motel room door open and yelled in. “Doris!  Hey, baby – we gotta get a move on, sweetie!  Times a wastin’ and money ain’t gonna make itself, like I say.”

Richie didn’t hear what she said.  Johnny had already stepped inside and closed the door.  They didn’t say much, though.  There was a little back and forth, muffled by the wall and the drapes, then silence for a while, then moans.  They did it like five times a day, it seemed.  When the last sound died down, Richie started his clock.  A hundred and twenty beats a minute.  He’d only hit seventy when Johnny poked his head out the door.  “Hey, kid, you stayin’ here or goin’?”

Richie read his face.  All he really wanted to know is what Johnny had already decided. “I get to say?”

“Don’t be a wise-ass, kid. You’re stayin’ here.  Watch cartoons or some shit. We’ll be back in a while.”

Then Johnny turned, “Hey, Doris – Richie says he wants to stay, maybe watch some tv while we’re out.  Sounds okay to me.  I told him to call if something came up.”  He yelled it. Doris had the hair dryer already going.

Ten minutes later, they walked out the motel door and left it cracked.

“We’re going now, baby – be good while we’re gone.” Johnny was making “yadda-yadda” faces behind Doris, but Richie ignored him.

“I left the number for the place on the pad by the phone.  Call me if you need anything.”  Johnny shook his head.  

She walked toward the car door.  Johnny said, “Sorry, babe, I need some extra smokes.”  He was in and out of the door in a flash, then opened her door for her.  He slapped her ass as she stepped to get in.  He gave Richie a little smirk and a wink as he went around to his own door.

Richie was back in the room before they were out of the parking lot.  He checked the pad by the phone and wasn't surprised there wasn't a phone number written down. Maybe she didn't actually write it down or maybe that was Johnny's real reason for going back in.  

Richie turned on the bathroom fan and opened the window to get some fresher air.  Even so, with the two of them smoking, it was like there was already ash and gunk building up in his lungs.  When they walked into the room the first time, it was like people had been smoking in there for a hundred years.  Every inch was browned; every piece of paper felt sticky.  When he put his head on his pillow the first time, it wheezed out an invisible cloud of tar and nicotine.  

The best thing about Johnny’s visits was they made him go outside while they fucked.  Otherwise, she kept him inside, saying it wasn’t safe out there, even though staying inside there was ten times as bad for his asthma as sitting on the curb, and twice as bad as sitting around at home, wherever home happened to be.  

He laid back on the bed, legs dangling down.  He didn’t feel like turning the TV on. He kicked his heels against the box spring.  It was an old bed, and when he kicked it, the insides rattled a little, like a slinky when you stretch it and shake it hard.  

A gate clanked somewhere outside the window. It took him a moment, then he remembered the little chain link area opposite the office.  The vinyl slats blocked off everything but the tops of two vending machines.  He knew his mom and Johnny would be gone for hours.  She told him not to leave the room, but she’d never know.  Nobody would ever know.  Nobody would notice if he went out or stayed in or got swallowed by an earthquake.  The last thought sat him bolt upright.  He grabbed his spiral notebook and a pencil and was out the door in an instant.

On the other side of the fence, there were the vending machines and two metal tables the awnings had blown off ages ago.  There was a funny picture frame area in the concrete center of the space.  He’d seen it before in a friend’s back yard and knew what it meant  There used to be a swimming pool right there, but it was a tiny one.  More like an in-ground wading pool.

Even with a pool, he couldn’t imagine anyone coming there because they wanted to, but then he was there, so what did that say?  Not only that, there was someone else there – an older girl, maybe two or three years, maybe in the eighth grade.  She was reading, but she glanced up.  She looked down and then back up and waved him over with two shy fingers.

He didn’t even remember walking over.  She waved and he was there, sitting in the chair opposite hers.  He opened his book to write or draw, or do something with the pencil that hung over his paper, suspended by the hints of red in her hair and the chocolately brown of her eyes.  He was embarrassed just to be thinking those things.  He didn’t know where they came from and he prayed she couldn’t see it on his face.

“Who are you?”

She couldn’t see that, but she was looking at something on his face.

“I’m Richie” like it explained everything, but he didn’t know what else to say. You don’t just read a strange girl your whole life story.  He didn’t even have a life story, though, so just his name was probably the best thing anyway.

“Hi, Richie. I’m Natalie. What are you doing?”

“Ohcrap-ohcrap-ohcrap …” he didn’t say it out loud, but it was plenty loud in his head.  “I was just – I wondered what was back here, so I ... I mean, I didn't know anyone ~”

“Uh-huh.  What are you doing there? On the paper?” Her eyes pointed down at his blank notebook and her eyebrows went up.

“Oh, nothing, I was just …”

She closed up her magazine.  “Are you a writer?”

“I’m … kinda …”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

His mouth just hung open. How would she know?  Even if she could read upside down, both pages where blank.

“Talking. You’re not good at talking to people.  Are you a better writer than a talker?”

“I … I’m just shy sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.  What do you write about, Hemingway?”

He had no idea how to answer.  He wrote about stuff, about things happening. He wrote a story where a boy named Carlos went to the fair and rode all the rides and went to the rodeo.  There was a story where a boy ran away to the mountains and then came back after a few days.  

“I wrote a story about a kid going to the fair.  Like that? Is that what you're asking?”

“What happened to him there?”

“He just … he rode rides and went to the rodeo, and had all kinds of food, burgers and hotdogs and desserts and stuff."

She was looking at the gate while he said that, and her eyes swung slowly back to his, with a small smile.  It was a smile he got from grownups sometimes.  What was the word? Condescending.  But not in a mean way, just … like they felt sorry for him about something.  Like there was something big he was missing.  Like they were up on a mountain looking down.

She broke the gaze and opened up her magazine again, just flipping through the pages.

Richie just watched her.  His pencil was in the exact place it was when he sat down.  He wanted her to say something, to acknowledge his presence, but maybe she was done with him and his lack of stories.

“Do you live here … Natalie?”

She shook her head and kept reading.

“Are you visiting?”

She shrugged at that.

“Who else is with you?”

“My dad.”

He started doodling on his page, which got her attention for a moment, before she brought it back to her own page.

He made little boxes and filled them with tiny circles and then shaded some of them in.  He kept doing it.  It was easy.  He could do it for a whole page without paying much attention.  Even though he wasn’t looking at her, his attention was on Natalie, wanting her to say something.  He thought she was beautiful, but he couldn’t say exactly why.  Her hair or her face or her eyes, or something?  The way she sat?  The way she was being quiet?  He knew she could tell he was focused on her, but she didn’t seem like she minded.

He started drawing mountains at the top of his page. Two mountains with shading, then a little valley between with a stream coming down.  That was all he knew to draw, so he did it again, and then a third time.  The page was almost full of boxes with circles and mountains with streams.

“Veronica!”

That made him jump, but not her. She didn’t even twitch.

“Veronica Carmelita! Where are you!? We’re leaving, girl! Get in the car!”

“Yes, sir.”  Her words were gray, like the shading on his mountains.

She folded her magazine slowly and scooted her chair back.

“Your dad?”

She nodded.

“You’re going a long way?”

She nodded, then shrugged. Maybe yes, maybe no.

“You’re not really Natalie?”

“I am sometimes. When I have to be.”

"What do you m~" She shook her head and he stopped.

"You wouldn't understand."  The one thing he did understand all of a sudden was that she was right. It was something he wouldn't understand until he had to understand, and then it would make every piece of sense in the world.

She walked slowly.  She paused at his chair.

“Here’s something to write about.”

She bunched up her t-shirt and started lifting.  For the tiniest of moments, he thought she would show him her bra and her breasts. He didn’t know why she would do it, but what else does a young boy hope for?

She stopped, though, when her belly was displayed.

It was flat and smooth and ordinary. She had little clumps of freckles scattered around, and a few bruises.  No.  No-no.  She had a lot of bruises.  She turned a little and he could see more freckles. He also saw two long wide strips of red like a belt would make.

“Those ~”

“Shut up. Shh! Uh-uh.”

She brought her shirt back down and went straight out the gate and latched it.  In seconds, a car door slammed and gears whined.

Everything Richie could think of doing felt stupid. He wanted to run out and stop the car and jump on her dad, to yell and get other people’s attention.  He wanted lots of angry people running out and doing something to her dad.

He got up and peeked through the slats woven through the chain link.  There was a really old station wagon just pulling out and heading east out of town.

Richie watched until it was gone, then went back to his seat.

He made slashes through the doodles and flipped to the next page.  

There it was, clean and empty, and waiting for a real story.