#and yeah we got harry's house but that too we didn't get properly

[finexbright]

"there's plenty of ass to go around" mr styles there won't be any if you don't get rid of this weird american favouritism and start having the same consistent set list for every venue and giving everyone a fair chance to listen to the albums that they paid so much for.

[racfoam]

yfsm chapter 2 snippet Harry with Teddy

“Harry, Harry, Harry!” a five-year-old boy with light blue hair came running up to Harry, holding a book. “Read! Read!”

“Hang on a bit, Teddy,” said Harry, smiling, endeared by the boy's enthusiasm. Harry took the book. “This book's a little long for you, don't you think?”

“But it’s got," said Teddy, hopping up and down excitedly, “you in it!”

“A lot of books do.” said Harry calmly. “Too many, actually.”

“But this one's got You-Know-Who, too!”

“A lot of books have him in them, too,” said Harry reasonably.

“You're in all the books about him and he’s in all the books about you, too! That’s what Aunt Hermione says!”

Dammit, Hermione.

“Yeah, well, of course we are. I did beat him twice...”

“Read it to me? Please?”

Teddy used the most devastating move in his arsenal. The puppy eyes. Harry's heart melted.

“Teddy, you don't want to know about him. You'd get nightmares. Your grandma would kill me.”

“Then... just the parts with you and You-Know-Who! Aunt Hermione bookmarked them! They're the red-green ones!”

Of course she did... Hermione must have forgotten to take this book with her on one of her visits...

The Second Wizarding War

Harry restrained a sigh. This was the book she avoided reading the most.

“Okay,” said Harry. “But only one bookmark.”

Teddy cheered, hopping onto Harry's lap, holding out the book. Harry tapped her holly wand against it, floating the book mid-air in front of them.

The pages of the book turned, opening to the first bookmark.

“Huh?” said Harry upon the sight of the black-and-white drawing. Under it was the title He Who Must Not Be Named. It was a very unflattering, unappealing drawing. Harry needed a moment to realize it was supposed to be a drawing of Voldemort. Voldemort looked more like a snake in the shape of his face in it. The outline of his face was too skeletal, his chin was completely off, and his eyes weren't very well drawn. Why did he have wrinkles? His skin was as smooth as a marble sculpture’s, without any wrinkles, with a little bit of scales on his cheeks.

Who drew this? Voldemort looked like some sort of monster from a children’s book.

Maybe that's the point.

Sure, Voldemort could pass off as such most times, but they could have at least given some effort into capturing him correctly...

“That's not how he looks like!” yelled Harry before she could stop herself, indignant. At least they could have come and asked her to describe him so a magical sketcher could sketch him...

Oh, right. I refused all interviews.

Teddy blinked up at her, confused.

“Teddy," said Harry, standing up. “Get your trainers and coat. We're going to the..." Harry checked the publishing house and groaned. “Daily Prophet Publishing. I'll read the book to you while we wait.”

Excited by the prospect of seeing the office of The Daily Prophet, Teddy hopped off of Harry's lap and raced out of the room and down the stairs of Grimmauld to grab his coat.

Harry checked the page didn't have any text behind it, looked left and right, fearing Hermione would pop out anytime.

Coast clear, Harry grabbed the page with the illustration and ripped out the terrible drawing that didn't capture Voldemort at all.

Addition

Harry: My man hasn’t been drawn accurately, this is an insult! (kicks down the doors of the Daily Prophet) YOU BASTARDS, GET ME A PENSIEVE AND A MAGICAL ARTIST! YOU'RE GOING TO DRAW VOLDEMORT PROPERLY OR I'M GOING TO BURN THIS ENTIRE BUILDING TO THE GROUND!

Teddy, hanging off Harry’s back, going with the flow: Yeaaah!

Voldemort, laid back on a sunbed on a beach, wearing pink heart-shaped sunglasses, sipping a cocktail through a straw, watching Harry's life through a screen in limbo: You tell them, darling.

[tuliprry]

sunbeam 3

prompt: ballerina!yn x barista!harry, y/n is a ballerina and harry works at the café in the same building, both have a little crush on each other

warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety, mentions of eating disorder

word count: 2k

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 extras

it's currently february, y/n has been planning a surprise party for harry, she had to message harry's mum which was terrifying for her as they haven't even been introduced, it wasn't the end of the world and anne was so excited that even though they were only dating for a few months that y/n was so ready to do these little things for her son. harry thinks they're just going on a date tonight and then come back to his house for a really sweet night of i love yous and sloppy sex. y/n was able to arrange a 15 minute window for anne to come over and start getting his apartment ready for the party. y/n had gotten harry a suit for his birthday and insisted that he would change at her house, harry was confused but he didn't think anything much of it.

y/n loved seeing harry in beiges and browns, it was something she genuinely loved, not that he looks bad in anything but there's just something that gets her all mushy inside when he wears beige, even pink, so clearly, she got him beige suit pants that go with a white shirt and a tan vest with pear drawings, y/n had an eye for fashion and she always took a mental note of things harry has mentioned, including this vest.

"how do i look?" harry asks, taking the well loved hair clip from his hair, "like a very sexy 28 year old" y/n giggled and stood up to properly check him out, "yeah you look so good my mouth is watering", he kissed her in between laughs, y/n looked good too, in a off white summer dress with puffy short sleeves and a little bow on her chest, white tights with really cute embroidered drawings and black mary janes. harry always thought she looked drop dead gorgeous, even when she was sweaty and exhausted from ballet class and would kiss him and sit on a stool awaiting her precious latte, he just thought she looked like what god is supposed to look like. "you know... if we didn't have our dinner... i'd definitely take this off right now" harry whispers in her ear sending shivers down her spine, he knew exactly what he did to her, in that department things have been... different, they've been trying a few things out and the more he learns about y/n in bed the easier it is for him to tease her and make her cheeks get a rosy coloured flush. "harry... cmon we still have to go to your house" y/n is trying hard to not get her knees weak or worse accidentally say theres a surprise party for him. "right fuck i still can't believe i left my phone at home, i'm sorry bunny" y/n knew exactly she was the one making sure his phone was at home so they had to go back but she just kissed his lips, grabbed her purse and went out the door.

on the uber ride, y/n texted anne saying they were on their way so they could hide and get remotely ready for the surprise, the jitters through y/n's body were absolutely killing her poor stomach, making her have a really big pain on that area, "bunny? do you wanna stay home? u look like you're sick" harry says as he puts his right over her tummy, "no no it's your birthday!!"

once harry opened the door and turned the lights on, his closest friends and family jumped and yelled surprise, harry stood tall with a shocked yet happy expression on his face, putting his hands on his face in disbelief, "oh my god you guys", he ran to his mum and sister hugging them tightly, "you planned all this?" he asks still in the hug, "no, darling, y/n planned all of this, we just helped getting it to come true" anne said going back to hug her son on his special day. 

the party wasn't the kind of birthday party 21 year old y/n goes from her university friends, this is sweet, there's an 80s playlist playing, wine and cheeses and vegan spreads, harry was talking to his friends, they all looked about harry's age and really nicely put, she's listening to their conversation, sort of, they're going over writing and magazines and issues going on at the mother company of few of the magazines harry writes for outside of his side job as a barista. truth be told y/n understood nothing and felt like a little girl just sulking while waiting for harry to give her attention. 

it's now 3am, y/n has just finished putting the leftovers inside the fridge, harry, who was supposed to still be loading the dishwasher, was attentively following her every move, grunts and small sighs, "ready to tell me whats inside that pretty mind?" harry asks, following her into the living room, "there's nothing to tell", y/n isn't as emotionally grown as harry, not that's she's childish when it comes to emotions, she just immediately has bad thoughts and uses anger as a coping mechanism, harry has a gut feeling y/n's ex wasn't actually the best person on earth and so many of her questions and worries and fears come from never knowing what true love is supposed to be like. "bunny... you wouldn't be pouty without reasoning" harry hugged her from behind, "but if you don't want to talk i get it, we can just stay like this", y/n closed her eyes and let herself rest in his arms for a minute, "i just.. all of your friends they're so... grown.. and i'm not and what if you want more? what if you need more? it's just... scary, h." harry tightened the hug, "i'm ruining your birthday i'm so sorry", he mouthed a little shush and turned her around to look at her face, "y/n.. i want you, please never doubt for any minute that you aren't the person i want and love the most, yeah they’re my age but look at you, 2 years of uni and you scored an internship at a studio, you do ballet, you work with all kinds of people.. you’re grown too, a little too grown for a 21 year old, i promise you i was a fuck up at your age” his lips met her forehead,  the most underrated of kisses, "listen to me let's take a shower okay? get these clothes off and sleep, mm? can we do that?" of course they could.

 it's been a week since y/n's moment of honesty and so many more moments of honesty were shared between them, especially at the end of the day before falling asleep. it snowed today, london has been messy and people have been rude and acting like they've never seen snow in their lives, y/n walks into the tall building where her ballet classes and rushes to see harry, he's restocking the food in display when he hears his girlfriends teary voice, he immediately puts the tray of deserts down and gets out behind the counter to kiss her, "you're freezing, let me get u coffee", he goes back and makes her a warm drink, he knew y/n had been on her nerves lately but today just seemed like the last straw by the sad look on her face. "people are so stupid, this man almost made me fall while leaving the tube by pushing me really hard, my foot hurts a little and i have class now and i really need to wash my hair and i have internship deadlines to meet at the photography studio and-" harry cut her off placing a croissant in front of her, "please eat and let me talk", she nodded, "first off next time someone pushes u like that just step on their feet, second are you okay to dance? does it hurt?... and y/n you have been working a lot lately i'm sure you can meet your deadlines you're just nervous and thats okay", he put a piece of her curtain bangs behind her ear and rested his forehead on hers, "everything is okay bunny, eat your croissant and drink your latte, yeah?" 

harry's shift ended while y/n was still in class, usually his shift ends after and y/n just waits for him so they can go to either one of their places together, he decided to go upstairs and watch a bit of her class, he was really curious about the whole atmosphere and dynamic of y/n in her ballet class, y/n has told him a million times if he ever wants to watch it for a little that he's always welcome, he took his opportunity and walked in, y/n's teacher saw him in the corner of her eye and came up to him. "hello? how can i help?" she asked, "i'm harry, y/n's boyfriend i work downstairs", he was still standing at the ballet studio door, "oh! i'm maya, y/n's teacher", she smiles and points at the floor, "you can sit there we're just finishing up!". y/n already doing stretches, his heart shrunk a little by not seeing her dance, something he absolutely loves to watch y/n do, y/n spots him through the mirror in front of her and makes a sign to go meet her, he does and sits next to her, also stretching. 

"what are you doing here?"

"well i finished my shift earlier and i wanted to see you"

"we're just finishing"

"you look so good"

"h..."

"no no! i mean it you look out of a music box, you're so beautiful”

“don’t make me blush right now”

harry was carrying y/n’s stuff inside his house, placing them on top of his dining table, y/n had been the entire tube ride explaining how her class is doing a small production of the nutcracker to present at a local theatre, mostly for schools to go to, she didn’t have a big hope to be a lead has she knows she’s been on this class for 6 months and it’s not her time to shine yet, but she is actually so excited and ready to start rehearsing. “when are you guys supposed to present it?”, harry asks getting his shoes off, “maya said late may, she’s hosting auditions next week with one of her colleagues in another school, they’re judging us by our regular routines so i’m a little less nervous” y/n explains, they were quickly changing clothes to go and do touristy things in london, they have been doing this every time his shift and her class are in the morning, usually on tuesdays, y/n always takes the chance to photograph harry, her favourite model. “borough market date?” she asks, packing some linen food bags onto her bag, “oh yeah my fridge actually looks very sad, i’ve gotten used to your cooking” he kisses her forehead, “want to cook dinner tonight? i’ll help” he continues, doing his puss in boots eyes to her, “stop it, i can’t say no if you look at me like that….maybe a bowl? with veggies and rice, we could get broccoli, mushrooms, some vegan chicken and vegan pesto?” his stomach growls just thinking about it, “i don’t know how you do it, you just always know what i’m craving.” harry sees improvement on y/n’s eating, she eats more and hasn’t fainted in a long while, he doesn’t totally get it as he hasn’t been there but he still reads about it a lot. 

borough market was packed as usual, it’s a tourist spot but y/n and harry love going there and get their fruit and veggies, once they even got garlic tofu and started buying it way too often for their own good, one of harry’s favourite meals y/n has ever made, said tofu, brown rice, hummus and a side salad of rainbow veggies, his mum mentioned his tummy was definitely bigger, comfy, something he didn’t mind if it meant eating this good every night.

“garlic tofu?”

“that’s not a question harry, it’s always a yes”

“is it also always a yes for a kiss?”

“absolutely”

y/n's birthday post for harry

y/n's little london post

y/n's story about harry losing her at a uni party

part 4?

taglist: @his-only-angel-1989 @oscarissacsslut @odilevonbrekker @youd0ntkn0wm3 @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[chaoticbritishqueen]

Phrases overheard at the Potters house:

Al: I'M TOO GAY FOR THIS SHIT

Lily: AL LITERALLY NONE OF US ARE STRAIGHT!! YOU CAN'T USE IT AS AN EXCUSE-

Hermione: You need to sort out this cupboard-

Harry: I don't want to go in there.

Harry: My room was a cupboard...

Ron: Your room was the size of a cupboard?

Harry: NO, my room literally was the cupboard...

Hermione and ron: WHAT?!

Harry: Shit- why did I say- GEORGE?! WHAT DID YOU GIVE ME-

George: SORRY- IT WAS MEANT FOR RON, I FORGOT HE ALWAYS GIVES YOU SNACKS-

Hermione: GEORGE DOESN'T SOUND VERY SURPRISED-

Harry: ...he's seen the cupboard- FUCK-

George: ....I FEEL LIKE HERMIONE IS ABOUT TO MURDER ME-

Harry: she's more than capable-

Hermione: Yes. I. AM.

James: How old are you Teddy?! Like 25!?

Teddy:...26....

Lily: I was at my friends house the other day, and i didn't realise just how gay my family is until I was hit with a FULL ON STRAIGHT FAMILY

al: No gay jokes?

Lily: No gay jokes :(

Teddy: I can't do that! I have no parents.

Ron: erm- i-

Hermione: I don't- you can- that doesn't-

*later that day*

Teddy: i can't do the dishes, I haven't got parents, you can't make me do that.

Harry: do the fucking dishes.

Teddy: I forgot it doesn't work on you..

Harry: I've got to admit it is fun watching Hermione not knowing what to say.

Harry: you're using the card too often. The orphan card will loose its meaning if you keep doing it for little things like chores, little man.

Teddy: why are you telling me this?

Harry: I mean- YOUR GONNA DO IT WETHER OR NOT I TELL YOU NOT TOO- AT LEAST NOW YOUR GONNA DO IT PROPERLY.

Al: im going to scorpius's birthday tomorrow.

Ginny: Okay, do you need me to buy you any fire whiskey?

Al: what?

Ginny: maybe just cider?

Al: I'm FOURTEEN?! why would I need alcohol?! YOU SHOULDN'T BE ENCOURAGING THIS?! THIS IS ILEGAL MUM!

Ginny: calm down, it's only an offer. If you drink I'd prefer to know what and how much. Instead of you sneaking behind mine and your dad's back.

Harry: What are we wanting for dinner? Spaghetti?

Ginny: You. My favourite meal. 😏

Harry: I'm sure that can be arrang-

James, in the doorway: EW WHAT THE FUCK!!

Harry: don't worry, I'm not for dinner.

James: DON'T SAY ANYTHING DAD-

Ginny: he's only for me.

James: I WANT TO GO MELT MY BRAIN NOW. *leaves*

Harry: I think we may have traumatised James.

Ginny: at least he didn't walk in on us doing anything more than flirting. And as you were saying?

Ron: HONEEEYY I'M HOMEEE!!!

Harry, hugging Ron: RON!! YOUR BACK!! :D

Ginny, in the kitchen: he doesn't even live here-

Hermione: ron didn't even know that I'm here- that was just for Harry.

Ginny: our husbands love eachother more than us.

Hermione: we knew that when we married them. They're platonic soul mates.

Harry: WHY THE FUCK, IS THE OVEN ON FIRE?!

Ginny: Me and James tried to cook the muggle way. And we thought if you turned it high it cooks quicker.

Harry: and what did you learn?

James: it just causes fire...

Harry: we should probably put that out now-

Ginny: oh shit, yeah, good idea.

James: ew you look straight.

Al: I AM HOLDING HANDS WITH MY BOYFRIEND.

Scorpius: it isn't gay if your wearing socks.

Al: DON'T YOU PLAY ALONG.

Lily: SHORT.

James: I'm taller than you?!

Al: SHORT.

James: I'M TALLER THAN YOU TOO.

Teddy: SHORT.

James: .....OKAY BUT YOU'RE LIKE A GIANT.

Ginny: I'm pregnant.

Harry: OH MY GOD! :D

Harry: Oh my God...

Ginny: Harry?

Harry: how the hell am I meant to tell them off-

Ginny: Huh-

Harry: THEY CAN ALWAYS THROW THE "You dropped out of school to kill someone" card when they get into trouble-

Ginny: they won't do that.

Harry: They're my kid, and I'm a bitch.

Ginny: Oh my God-

Harry: YOU CAN'T DROP OUT OF SCHOOL, WITHOUT A PLAN-

James: You dropped out of school. Without a plan.

Harry: okay, kill a dark Lord, then.

James: i don't want too...

Harry: do your homework.

James: what if I wanted to be a quidditch player?

Harry: ... your mum can get you connections for a try out? If that's what you really want. Or are you saying that to get out of homework?

James: ...to get out of homework...

Al: WHY IS MY MIDDLE NAME SEVERUS?!

Harry: I lost a bet to your Uncle Neville...

Ginny: and I encouraged the bet...

Teddy: why walk through the door, when you could climb through the window.

Harry: Your brother is 5! he cannot climb through a window safely.

Ginny: your father is such a dork.

Lily: didn't he defeat a dragon.

Ron: still makes him a dork.

Ginny: who happened to defeat a dragon.

[harrysmimi]

Periwinkle Chp 4:

Darling

More of my work | series Master list

YN got ready to leave and waited for Harry as he insisted on driving them to wherever she had planned on taking him. He's got his own plans too, he said.

She did nothing much but put on a white off the shoulder, full sleeved dress. Styled her hair in a bun, did a soft smoky eye and put on a bold shade of red on her lips. Last thing she did was put on her flats (she couldn't wear heels to even save her life). She made sure there was water for Gus who was sleeping in his new cat tree in her room before she headed down stairs when Harry texted he's down.

"Where the hell are you dude? I am starving," she whined on the call.

"Pulling right up darling," he chuckled as he hung up. He pulled up as he said.

His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw her in that dress. It was something unusual for her to wear aside from her baggy sweat pants and baggy shirts, she dressed like a skater boy basically. She looked very gorgeous.

"You look very pretty!" She gasped seeing him. He had nothing too fancy, he made his clothes looks fancy just by wearing them. And YN couldn't help but swoon over him all over again. He smiled getting out after he parked to greet her properly.

"You look prettiest," he smiled his cheeky grin, wrapping his arms around her middle her pulled her in a tight hug, her being significantly shorter than him, she hand to go up on her tippy toes to at least try and match his height.

YN have figured he's kind of person who rather prefers physical touches, with his hug and gentle touches. And she savoured every moment of it.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just hugging you, is that bad?" He mumbled against her neck as his grip grew more firm around her.

"Not at all," she smiled.

"Where are we going?" He enquired pulling just enough away from her, he planted a soft kiss on the corner of mouth, moving to press his lips to the full of hers.

"Dindian," she said. She was very proud of the name her grandparents came up for their restaurant, which was a mix of two words: Dine and Indian, it still blows her mind how smart her grandpa was to come up with that.

"That's a very fucking expensive place darling," he was surprised.

"Don't worry about it," she assured him and they both got into his car. "It's my grandparents' restaurant."

"How rich are you?" He gasped teasingly.

"Do you mean how rich are my grandparents?" She corrected, "very! And I'm very fucking privileged to be part of their family."

"I thought your grandma only had the salon." He wondered.

"That is her thing, these hotels and restaurants are something both my grandparents started from scratch." She explained.

"My mum owns a cafe back home," he shared, "it's very stressful when it's crowded. Used to help her on weekends."

"Yeah it is, I can understand especially with the Salon. Some people are so fucking rude dude!" She rolled her eyes.

"That's the worse part," he admitted.

......................................................................

It didn't took them long to get to the restaurant. The hostess actually knew YN, obviously. They got the best table in the house, everything was quite and peaceful around.

The place looked more luxurious than it actually costs to eat there, which also very high for many. Everything was gold and shades of cream and beige making the place look like some sort of Indian royal palace with two dining floors, with very soft Indian classical music playing in the background. But the thing is, they served all different types of cuisines here now. Harry wanted to try Indian food though and they ordered just that.

"Oh fuck no," he sighed.

"What happened?" YN asked and in not-so-subtle way she turned around to find Blake and her family there taking seat on the table right behind theirs. "What?" She asked again picking up the glass of her lemonade.

"She, she is... She is my ex," he said in a hushed tone, YN almost spit out her drink.

"What the fuck!" She whispered yelled, "how long were you together?"

"A year, I told you that," he looked stressed.

"Not him!" Now it was her whining.

"That's her step brother," Harry told her.

"What in the sweet he Alabama shit," she gasped, "what the fuck? Is he really..."

"What do you mean?" Harry's confusion seemed to be the top priority for the moment. "Wait, I know, how do you know them?"

"Sandy set me up with that asshole few months ago, everything was going good until one day he forgot he invited me over. Found them doing the deeds there I never saw his face again and now I wanna throw up," she gaged as if she is really going to throw up.

"No, when was this?" He seemed heart broken. That's when YN realised it wasn't right moment to tell him, but when was that right moment?

"I'm sorry," she frowned.

"No, you're fine darling. Thank you for telling me," he reached for her hand over the table. "We don't have to ruin our night for them. And you own the place anyway."

"Yeah," she laughed. Harry placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

By the time their food was served, Harry scooted to sit right next to her as they watched funny videos on Facebook as they had got nothing special to talk about. It was compilation of cats being funny. It took everything in her to not scream a laugh as she saw a Lion fall down into the pond as it was walking down on the edge, but it swam right out so she didn't felt bad for laughing her butt off.

"Oh my —" she gasped for air.

"Your laugh is funnier than the video," Harry giggled hearing her antique laugh, he kissed her forehead just because. She stopped laughing which caught his attention making him follow her gaze up to see Blake stood there with a shocked face.

"You fucking whore," she started, already catching the attention kf entire restaurant. "You went after her after breaking up with me?" She turned to Harry.

Harry glanced at YN who seemed unphased by her comment for her, he was confused and froze for a second. As he opened his mouth to say something YN interrupted him.

"Calm the fuck down and please leave us alone, I don't wanna have you kicked out of this place." YN sighed, trying to keep calm. She was seriously considering using the authority she have but she wasn't going to let her anger take control of her.

"Why would she calm down?" her mother butted in. "And angel girl, didn't I warned about this bitch earlier?"

"Yeah, and didn't your angel girl, sweet baby honey girl warn you about what in the sweet fucking home Alabama shit you have going on at your home between your daughter and your step son?" YN cooed, clicking her tongue in pity. Blake's step brother looked like he wanted to disappear then and there. Her step dad looked furious where as her mother's mouth was shut. "Don't you dare call me a whore when you're one to begin with. Now get the fuck out of my face. Fucking cunt!"

"What did you just call her?"

"YN, please let's leave it at tha-" Harry was interrupted by YN.

"No, no, wait," she stopped him, "I called her a fucking cunt, because like mother like daughter." Gasps were heard around the restaurant.

"Let's the leave," Blake's step dad was ready to leave the place. And they all did.

"This is why your own mother left you in a bording school to die, you fucking deserved that you ungrateful bitch!" Blake was pulled out by the security. "Good thing your grandma died before you become a whore that you are!"

And that was like a dagger straight in her heart! She couldn't cry. YN never thought there is anything inherently wrong with crying, it made her feel weak to be crying like that.

Harry on the other hand seemed very embarrassed and upset. Sighing he stood up. "We're leaving too." And with that he walked out.

"What?" YN followed him just to know why he was so phased by everything when nothing bad was being said to him.

"What the fuck was that?" He asked once they were in the parking lot by his car.

"I was standing up for myself," she answered the obvious.

"That's how you stand up for yourself? You called her a cunt?"

"She called me a whore, was that fine with you?" She snapped. "And did you not fucking hear what she said?"

"There was a better way to resolve that issue darling," he argued back.

"Why are we arguing? And what better way did you had to stand up for me when you fucking froze over there?"

"I don't know but there was no need to make a huge scene about it!" He exclaimed.

"Okay," she couldn't believe and nor did she found it worth to argue with him there. "Okay, I get it. I, I get it."

"Where are you going now?" He called for her as she started walking out of the parking lot calling an Uber for herself. "YN."

"Go fuck yourself in a ditch, you fucking son of a bitch! I don't want to fucking talk to you!" She flipped him off and walked off the street.

......................................................................

No because what the fuck was that night?

She definitely did not felt that she was in wrong for standing up for herself. Why was Harry so embarrassed about it?

YN have never cried this hard in past one year since her Grandma's demise. She was a mess on the floor of her bedroom, her phone was going off in a continuation. Calls and messages from a worried Harry annoyed her the most, she switched off her phone. She didn't wanted to talk to anyone because she knows she won't have any control over anger and not think twice before saying anything. Who would know better how much said words can hurt other than her? She prefered to stay silent and with herself when she's angry. She's never the one who will run away from having real conversations like a grown adult that she is, she was just angry and mad and wanted to stay all her herself. She wasn't wrong there, was she?

All she knew was, she wasn't the one who started it (and she still got in trouble for it later) but she was definitely the one to put the end to it and not let Blake and her mother walk all over just like that.

She has been a complete mess from last two nights, trying to focus on work and school as her final semester was coming up for the hair school. She was graduating early and that's all she should focus on right now. Plus she wasn't able to het good sleep.

Gus was a huge help for her, it was like he could sense her upset energy and purred as loud as he could to ease her down. He was already getting to do his job with that. Today YN was leaving early when she saw Harry approaching the Salon. She'd just ignored him and went to the staff room until he left.

She had a lot of stuff with her, she got new toys for Gus and a another cat tree to put up in her giant living room, and another thing he can destroy and leave her furniture alone. At this point Gus is the only creature she thinks is never going to hurt her (accidental scratches doesn't count here).

She is mad at him for being mad at her that night. It would have been such a quiet and nice night with a glass of red wine, it was all ruined when he was the one saying they don't have to let anything ruin the night for them. She wanted to talk things out with him. It was hard, especially when he can't really communicate properly. She ain't his mother to teach him that. It ain't her fault it happened twice. But she tried to reach out to him last night and the call went straight to voicemail.

He clearly still has feelings for Blake which should be obvious. Which broke her heart into the amount of purses Kylie Jenner have in her closet. It was in shambles. YN just wanted to talk things out now that she is no longer angry but still upset and heartbroken. Mainly about Blake's last comment on her.

YN never shared that part of her life with anyone, not even her closest friends. But she did with the douche she was seeing, that's when she really made it her mission to not ever share the most vulnerable part of her with anyone! Harry was her last and only exception.

She made her way to his flat before work, she knew he'd be home as he said he's off all summer from work. Finally she felt calm enough to have a conversation.

It felt weird to really knock on his door when she knew the conversation can lead whatever they had to very unpredictable direction. He would want to mend things and start of slow again to wherever they were both headed, or worse, he would want to end everything. Even their precious little friendly.

YN knew she fell in love very easily, it was one of her many weaknesses and it happened with Harry. What scared her the most was the thought of loosing him as her friend as well. She'd be honest that she doesn't have more than two friends are loyal and trustworthy, and Harry is one oit of those two.

YN knocked on his door anyway, putting everything on back burner for until she sees his face again.

"Hey," she mumbled seeing him once he opened the door.

YN wouldn't lie she was a little intimidated by him as she stared at her for solid three seconds. Plus he stands like a literal tower in front of her with their actual height difference.

"Oh love!" He sighed in relief and gathered her in a warm hug taking her by surprise, it took her a moment to wrap her arms around his middle. "I was so worried, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she buried her face into his chest, sniffling as the fists of her hands clutched the fabric over his torso tightly.

"No, no it's, it's okay." He stuttered pulling away just enough to look at her only to realise the main door is still wide open. He pulled her in and shut the door behind her, "it's okay, yeah."

"Are you okay? You weren't answering my calls. And, and I came to see you at the salon." He hugged her again, like he's ready to take a bullet for her straight in his heart.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," her voice of muffled against now damo fabric of his black tshirt. "I, I was just mad and didn't want to talk to anyone. I'm sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay. You're fine that's all I wanted to know." He assured her. A gentle kiss was pressed on top of her head. "I know what she said wasn't right, I'm sorry for not defending you."

YN had no idea what to say next, should she thank him for confronting and apologising as well, or should she apologise again? Instead she started sobbing like a kid.

"Hey, come on, it's okay darling." He whispered close to her ear.

"I'm sorry," she kept mumbling.

Harry shushed, "it's just us here, it's okay." He ran his fingers through her hair gently, "I need you to calm down okay? Please?"

She was barely able to make it her saying something about him being mad and her mentioning not answering his calls or texts. It took him too long to put 2 and 2 together.

"I'm not mad okay," he assured her, "can you look at me please?"

"Mhm," she nodded in no.

"Okay," he sighed.

Harry found it was better to give her own time to process everything and just giver her some time in general. He didn't mind standing there for ten minutes holding her close to him. She eventually calmed down.

"We're good now?" Harry asked, his hand running up and down her back. He noticed it was his hoodie he left at hers and never got back that she had on just by the feel of the fabric.

"Mhmm," she nodded pulling away to finally look at him. "I really didn't mean to ghost you. I, I feel guilty now for doing that. I was just angry."

"I know," he assured her pressing a soft kiss on her mouth, "I didn't meant to make you feel that way too lovie."

"No it's okay," she shook her head sniffling and wiping her tears with her sweater paw, "I'm gonna break that bitch's face next time." There you go she was back to normal.

He chuckled, "you look really tired baby, wanna take some rest? We can cuddle and watch you favourite show."

"I, I've got work. I just came to see you," she explained.

"But you look so tired love, can't you take a day off?" He asked and she nodded in no, "half a day off?"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"Call Sandy and tell her you're sick, she's not going to come here and drag you with her." He assured her, "I won't let that happen. I'll go and set up the TV we can watch whatever you like, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

YN just did what Harry asked her to. In all honesty she was emotionally and physically exhausted today. Just when she got off the call, she rushed to Harry's welcoming arms and curled up into a ball as he wrapped his other arm around her.

"Can we take a nap instead?" She suggested.

"Whatever you want darling." He agreed, "you want to go to my bedroom or you want to lay here?"

"It's fine here."

"Okay," Harry made way so they both can lay down comfortably on there as he had her trapped between him and the backrest of the furniture, safely. Letting her use his arm as a pillow which he might regret later when it would go numb. He could hear her still sniffling and his shirt dampening with her tears. "What's wrong sweetheart? Thought you wanted to take a nap."

"Yeah, I do," she nodded her voice breaking up trying to hold back her sobs.

"You can tell me."

"It's just what Blake said that night. She said I fucking deserved to be abandoned by my mother, and, and that my Nani died for good." She couldn't help it but sob.

"No, no, nothing of that was true. You and I know that very well, right?" He crooned, "don't— it's okay baby."

YN eventually ended falling asleep whilst crying. Harry didn't wanted to tell her stop crying, it is good to cry and let it all out sometimes.

......................................................................

YN woke up to find herself next to Harry wrapped up in his arms nice and warm, though it was middle of summer. He was fast asleep in the same position as before and haven't moved an inch. That made her feel bad, she hopes his shoulder and arm isn't sore after this.

Her trying to get off of him woke him up, "hey you're up angel, how did you sleep?"

"Good," she said. That earned her a gentle peck on her lips. "Oh no, Gus is alone!"

"Don't rush, he ain't going anywhere love." He assured her.

"Do you want to come over tonight?" She asked.

"I was going to go see some friends but I can see if they bail me early." Harry said with a sad pout on his face.

"That's okay, you can come tomorrow." She suggested.

"Yeah? But I'll text you." He gave her a few more kisses.

"Hmm," she nodded.

......................................................................

YN had just gotten text from Harry saying he'd be coming over with food. It haven't even been five hours he went to see his friends, she just hopes he did not ditch them last minute.

Well, he came earlier than he said he would. YN had just gotten home from pet store to get Gus more food before he runs out. That little chap has been a huge blessing for her.

"Hey darling," he greeted with a hug and kiss on her head.

"Hey," she stepped aside once he was done with his greeting cuddles so he can get in. "I'm sorry I just came back from pet store, I'll be back got to put this away."

"Sure," he nodded. "How is your headache?"

"Good, I feel a bit better." She shared preparing a food dish for Gus. He was sat right there on the counter patiently waiting for his que to dig in.

Harry kept take out bags on the dining table and hurried back to the door to take off his shoes as he'd be kill if she finds he had his outdoor shoes inside. The little family photo wall caught his eye again, especially the photo frame turned fave down. Feeling nosy he picked it up just a little bit to take a peek. It was YN and her Nani. Her hair was not coloured a funky colour and the picture looked like it was taken back in 70s or 80s.

"Harry!" Her voice made him flinch in surprise and he almost dropped the frame. He hurriedly kept it back on it's place before he turned to face her. "Woah! What are you doing?"

"No— nothing." He shrugged.

"I saw," she told him, "anyway come on. I'm hungry." She gestured him to follow her.

"Why do you have your photo front side down there?" He asked now that she had seen him lurking around.

"It's not me," she turned to look at him confusedly.

"This is not you with your Nani?" He picked up the photo again.

"No, that's my mother," she shared, "it was before she left to study at Stanford."

"Oh you look just like her," he smiled thinking it is a nice compliment but YN didn't liked it at all.

She hates that woman with every last cell in her body. But she kept silent and smiled a forced smile.

"Hey I'm sorry," Harry croon following her back to the living room keeping rhe picture frame on it's face down.

"No it's okay," she shrugged, "I get it alot that's why I have only picture of her my Nani kept faced down. I just don't like to be associated with her at all. I'll go get face tattoos now. Or maybe a dramatic nose job or something."

"No you don't have to, I mean if you want to do it for yourself then I'll be there to support you." Harry rushed his words, "I'm sorry again to bring that up."

"It's okay, I forgive you not like you knew she's the one who popped me out like I'm a piece of toast." She scoffed jokingly.

"How do you make jokes like this!" He shook his head in disbelief. Walking up to her he pulled her closer to him with his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Can't dwell on the fact that my mother hates me." She giggled, "she can go fuck herself."

"I'm not going to comment on that," he chuckled. Sighing he rested his forehead on hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes shut like it's on autopilot mode feeling his soft exhales against her skin was different kind of soothing. "YN?"

"Hmm?"

"Be my girlfriend?" He asked, she lifted her head to look at him as she never saw this coming.

"Only if you'll be my boyfriend." She smirked.

"I guess that's how it works," he giggled, "but you know what, it's just been such a short time of knowing you. I've never had anyone show me my place like you do, ground me like you do, no one have apologised to be like you did even though we were both in wrong in our own ways. I never thought I'd fall so fast and so deep in love with you."

"Wait, you, you love me?" She stuttered.

"Yeah, I love you." He admitted.

"Then I'll shamelessly admit to have a massive crush on you since the day I saw you at my Nani's. But like I never got the courage to confess. Plus you had a girlfriend that time so it was meant to go south then." She smiled sheepishly through her explaination, "I, I, I love you too."

"God!" He groaned in contain, "I love you more!" With that he pressed a hard kiss on her mouth, making her gasp her laughs. Harry slotted their lips together devouring the moment.

Like it was expected in the moment, the dinner was ditched as both of them have got huge appetite for something else.

[morgansunflower]

Sister

Four time's Y/N helps her brothers and the first time they help her

Dick Grayson X sister-reader!

When Dick is Robin and gets fear toxin from Scarecrow

I came to the Manor missing home I knocked Alfred opened

"hey Alfred"

"Ms Y/N always lovely to see you back home. Your father is at work Master Richard is taking much needed time asleep"

I walked in wait why's Dick asle-Scarecrow! Shit! No! No! No! I can't believe I forgot!

"I'm the world's worst sister!"

I ran upstairs remembering, Dick got injected with fear toxin last night he had called me last night acting off. I asked Bruce and he told me. I knocked not hearing anything come on bud open up

"hey Birdboy it's your sister Dick little bro.. OK I'm opening the door"

I slowly opened the door the lights off. The sunlight shining in from the window. I saw him laying with a blanket wrapped around him, he was shaking, mumbling and crying. I ran to his side touching his shoulder

"Dick! Buddy please open your eyes"

He carefully opened his eyes he saw me he jolted back terrified. It kills me seeing him like this

"Dick buddy it's OK it's me it's your sister you're OK you're here" I said calming

He quickly wrapped his arms around my neck crying. I rubbed his head my heart breaking. Oh, Grayson.

"shhh shhh it's OK"

He crossed his legs around me

"I'm so sorry I wasn't good enough"

"Dick honey you are a great kid. You are my brother ok nothing is going to change that I promise you. You are more than good enough"

I sat on the bed he hugged my neck crying. I rubbed his head rocking back and forth he kept crying

"shhh it's OK Birdboy"

I use his nickname again to help pull him out of his panic attack. He finally started calming down. He's OK.

"there that's better" I softly said

"hey sis" he asked his voice brittle

"yeah buddy"

"can I have some ice cream"

A wave of relief crashes into me. I smiled in relief he's going to be OK my baby brother is going to be OK

"of course"

Jason Todd X sister-reader!

Jason worries he will lose Y/N the same way he lost his mom

I headed to the my place from grocery shopping. I pulled in seeing my kitchen light on. Did I leave the light on? I grabbed the groceries I went inside and screamed. I dropped the groceries, Jason!

"Jason what hell?! Are you trying to scare me to death?!"

He just stood there not looking at me

"hey what's wrong, Jaybird"

He shrugged his shoulders what is going on with him. I picked up the groceries and put them away. I turned folding my arms

"spill it" I demanded

"c-can you promise me something?"

"if you ask me first"

"you would never do.. it right"

"what's it, Jason?" his eye's swell he's trying not to cry. I want to hold him and tell him everything's going to be OK. Though Jason's not Grayson it's best to let him express his feelings before smothering him with affection "Jay?"

"N-nothing forget I said anything" he puts his hands in his pocket

"Jason come on now what is it?"

"never do.. Drugs" I'm shocked

"Jason Peter Todd! Of course I would never do that it's wrong and I love you all too much too even put you through that"

His lip trembling. I can't stop myself. I put my hands on his shoulders he wouldn't look at me

"sometimes the people you love are not good enough" he disappointingly stated

"Jay, what do you mean not good enough"

He shakes his head and he mumbled something

"Jason have you been doing--" he cut me off

"fuck no!" he sighed, good that's a mountain in my gut leaving "I just....forget it"

"Jason, buddy talk to me. I'm here you can tell me anything about what's going on with you"

"I - yesterday was my mom's anniversary of when she died OK... I just didn't-don't I--"

Oh buddy I hugged him tight he wouldn't hug me back. I didn't care. I finally felt him wrap his arms around me. I heard him crying

"Jason. You listen to me when I say that I am not going anywhere. I promise you I will never do that to you ok"

He nodded we parted I kissed his head he sniffed

"geez I sound like a baby"

"you sound like you needed to get things off your chest. You want to stay here tonight we can watch Harry Potter and LORD Of The Rings. I got honey buns"

He smiled drying his tears and nodded. I dried his tears with my thumbs hugging him again

Tim Drake X sister-reader!

Y/N gets a call that her sister died she rushes to the Manor to make sure her little brother Tim is OK (the picture is from when is dad died but I thought it'd work for the moment)

Stephanie died last night Dick just told me as of a few moments ago. My first worry Tim. I went to the Manor rushing to Tim's room I gently knocked. Please be OK

"hey Timmy.. It's me Y/N.. Dick told me what happened" I feel tears threatening to fall "I just want you to know that I am here for you.... Can I open the door?"

I hear him take a deep breath I opened the door his room completely trashed the lights off it wouldn't be if.. Stephanie saw this. A lot of things would be different I turned the light on. He lays on his bed. I looked at his face his eyes bloodshot, watering, swollen like he had been crying for hour's. He started sniffing he rubbed his nose and eye's

"you ok? "

"I'm fine... you need help with something?" he asked

"Tim you know you don't have to be that way not with me"

I sat on his bed he huffed shutting his laptop

"I'm fine Y/N I just need to be left alone right now"

"Tim you've been through so much you can't expect me to just let you go through this alone. I'm your sister rather if you like it or not"

"just promise me you won't leave me too sis"

"of course Timmy"

I hugged him he buried his head in my neck sobbing holding on to me tight

"I love her Y/N h-how am I supposed to live without her I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. She was my life, my happiness, my everything.. H-how am I sup-posed to go on with life without her"

"Tim I don't have the right advice but I promise you that you are going to get through this, your strong. It may take time but you are going to be OK I promise"

Damian Wayne X sister-reader!

Damian feels guilty for how he treats Y/N before he died. She's trying not to crowd him through it causes little Damian to think she doesn't care about him

I sat on the couch trying not to cry Dick just got off the phone with me telling me that Damian's alive, he's OK, he's not OK, but he will be. I hear my door open and see little D. Don't bombard him he just got back I'm sure Dick's been giving him a million hugs. Damian, folded his arms

"tt I see my sister's house hasn't been properly taken care of"

"well sometimes people grieve differently"

He looked at me shocked he looked away from me. He looks at the door. What should I do?

"father has requested that I return with you home"

"that's fine I'm feeling home sick"

Damian just stood there I grabbed my keys worrying about him. We left to go to the Manor. That evening Damian went to his room refusing too see anyone. I sat on the couch. Dick walked in he sat down next to me

"he's feeling guilty, Y/N"

"guilty! About what?"

"for how he treats you, did treat you He's afraid you don't see him the way you see me, Tim and Jason"

"Aww, Damian!"

I quickly got up I ran to his room and knocked

"hey Dami... Little D can we talk"

"there is nothing to speak of!" he snapped

"come on Damian please let me talk to you I want to see my little brother"

"I don't want to say anything to you"

"OK then just listen"

"tt fine I'm listening"

I sat against the door

"Damian, I should have told you year's ago that I love you... You are my little brother, no one can ever change that, not your grandfather, your mother, your father, not your siblings. Absolutely nothing will change the fact that I love you Damian. You are always going to be my little brother...I was a wreak Damian losing you broke me knowing I failed to say you are not a bad kid, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye, I love you little brother, I'm sorry" I broke down sobbing remorse is all I feel

Damian opened the door. I hugged him wall on my knees I stood he held on to my neck crossing his legs around me. I kissed his head he cried. That's all we both needed.

"I love you too sister"

Bat-brother's X sister-reader!

The boys help their sister

I sat on the couch my arm's bandaged, my hand wrapped in bandaging, and my legs bandaged. A sling for my broken left arm. I look like hell. I heard my phone Dick I used my good hand but I kept shaking fuck. I'm still sore. I put the phone on the table answering. I put him on speaker and laid on the couch

"I'm here"

-"hey where are you at sis"

"ho-me"

-"Y/N, what happened? Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"P-patrol"

Fuck it hurts to talk

-"you need us to come get you?"

"I-I d-d-don't n-know" I stuttered

-"I'm on my way with our brother's"

"hmm m"

Dick hung up I laid there. I hear the car pull in. Damian, abruptly opened the door and slammed it behind him. He ran to me a glare on his face

"dammit sister!"

My head throbbed. I groaned the rest of my brother's walked in. I tried to set up

"hey take it easy sis" Dick said

Jason put pillows behind so I could sit up with ease. They all looked at me not a single smile

"wo-uld y-you guy's p-please not look at me like th-that"

"Y/N, try to quit talking" Tim said

"f-food I-in" Dick cut me off

"Y/N you've taken care of all of us for a long time it's time we help you.. Now please rest"

I took deep breaths laying down. The boys sat in front of the couch. We watched a movie eating snacks. It makes me feel better knowing they are OK and safe. I ruffle each one of their heads

"I love you boy's" they each respond with 'I love you too' in their own way

"yeah, but don't ever fucking get yourself this fucked up again!" Jason added Dick elbowed Jason. This is home. My family, is my home.

Bruce's P. O. V

Night had fallen the boys did not come for patrol meaning Y/N is not OK. I drove to my daughter's house looking for the boy's and making sure she's OK. I made it I opened the door quietly. I saw the boy's asleep on the floor leaning on the couch and each other. My daughter sound asleep. Her breathing evident she's in pain. My heart drops. I laid a blanket on the boy's. I kissed her head she touched my hand. She opened her eye's. I softly smile, shushing and shake my head intending to let her know to stay quiet. A rare occasion to have my son's and my daughter together with silence. It's pleasant.

[watermelonlovershigh]

You get Drunk at the BRITs & Harry Takes Care of You

Things to help you picture the story better:

(You're married/2020 BRIT awards/Accidently get drunk)

Harry invited you to come with him to the BRITs where he would be preforming his new song Falling and is nominated for several awards. Of course you agreed to come with him because you always tried to find ways to support your husband. Before you left the house, you promised him that you would not be drinking too much because you knew this was his night and you didn't want to ruin it by getting drunk and him taking care of you. But when you got there and seen all the drinks on the tables, you had to have a few glasses. There was champagne and white wine, as well as some vodka. By the time the award show is almost over, you look down to see that you accidently drank way to much alcohol and you begin to feel dizzy. Harry hadn't even noticed your current state because he was to busy being interviewed for the cameras and being on stage preforming. When they announce the show is over you stand up from your chair and almost fall over. You now feel the alcohol in full affect. You're also a light weight so alcohol hits you twice as hard compared to most.

"Y/N woah. Are you alright love?" Harry says concerned.

"Yep just think I drank too much and I'm feeling a little dizzy." you say grabbing your head.

"Here, grab onto my arm for support."

You do as Harry told you and you take his arm as he leads you out the doors of the huge building. You knew there was a after party that both of you were supposed to attend, so you assumed that's where he was going. Harry leads you to his black range rover and helps you up into the passengers seat. Then he walks around and hopes into the drivers seat. You sit there in your seat with your head in your hands because all that alcohol has your head reeling.

Harry looks over at you and says, "Just lay the seat back and get some rest. We will be home in a few minutes."

You sit up with a confused look on your face and reply, "I thought we were going to the after party?"

"We were but it looks like you had a little to many drinks and I need to get you home and take care of you." he says in a calmly manner.

You feel yourself getting emotional because you realize he is missing out on the after party just to look after you and its all your fought. You promised him that you would not be getting drunk tonight and that's exactly what you did.

"I'm so sorry Harrryyy. I didn't realize how much alcohol I had consumed until it was to late." you say with tears running down both cheeks.

"It's alright love. There will always be a after party next year. My main focus is on you." he states with a half smile.

On the way back home all you did was cry. The guilt getting to you as well as the sloshing of alcohol in your stomach making you feel slightly sick. Harry finally pulls up to your house and gets out the car to carry you inside.

"Here Y/N. Just wrap your legs around my waist and arms around my neck."

"Harry I don't feel good." you mumble into the crook of his neck.

Harry starts speed walking into the house and to the bathroom so you don't have any accidents on his Gucci suit.

"Hold on my love. We are almost there."

He finally reaches the bathroom and sets you in front of the toilet on the floor. He grabs a elastic band from the counter and places your hair into a messy bun.

"My stomach really hurts Harry!"

"Shhh I know love. Just relax and let it out".

Harry has seen you drunk too many times to know how you act. You usually sit in front of the toilet for hours trying to be sick because you always had trouble being sick on your own. Which was sometimes dangerous. Especially when you had consumed a lot of alcohol, because alcohol is basically poisoning to the body. While you have your head in the toilet mumbling words, Harry is quickly taking off his bright yellow suit so he's more comfortable for bed and is ready to take care of you. Leaving him in only his black boxers. Then he walks up behind you and slowly unzips your dress.

"Y/N, I'm gonna take your dress off okay?"

All you can do is nod for consent because you're unsure how to even speak properly at the moment. Harry slips the dress off of you and takes it to your shared closet to hang it up. Then he walks back into the backroom to sit on the floor behind you.

"Y/N, I need you to be sick darling. You will feel so much better" he says whispering in your ear and rubbing your almost bare back besides your bra.

"I can't. It won't come out."

"Do you need me to help you baby?"

You begin to close your eyes because you're so tired and Harry notices. So he does the only thing he can think of to help you throw up the fastest so you can get to bed and sleep. He knows if you go to sleep with this much alcohol in your stomach, your hangover is gonna be terrible in the morning, so puking right now is the best option. So Harry sits directly behind you and places a hand on your belly. Then he slowly lifts your head up with his right hand.

"I'm going to have to force you to be sick love so just bare with me and breath."

He knows what he's doing for the most part because he has had to do it many of times on himself as well as his mates when they would get drunk and needed relief from their horrid stomach aches.

"Open your mouth Y/N."

You slowly open your mouth and he slips two fingers into it until they reach the back of your throat. Then he wiggles them around until you gag around his fingers.

"That's it. Come on. Throw up for me. Then you can go to bed."

He keeps his right hand fingers in your mouth while his left hand is pressing on your bare stomach. You gag hard again and this time you puke right on his fingers and into the toilet. He removes his fingers but still presses your tummy. Now you can throw up on your own with out his fingers down your throat. So you puke and puke and puke some more until vomit is running out of your nose. Harry is now rubbing your back with his clean hand and reaches for some toilet paper with his other one. He tares a piece and brings it up to your nose to wipe the dripping puke.

"There you go. That's it. I bet you feel better now yeah?" Harry coos.

"Much." you reply back with a semi cleared mind.

Harry reaches forward to flush the puke filled toilet and helps you stand to your feet. Then he picks you up and walks to the bedroom to set you on the bed.

"Sit right there. I'm going to get you a glass of water from the kitchen."

You sit patiently on the edge of the bed while Harry gets you some water. When he returns, you chug the whole glass down and lay back on the bed. Harry pulls the covers back and tucks you in. That's when he realized you still had makeup on your face. Being the kind human he is, he goes into the bathroom and grabs one of your face wipes. Returning, he notices you have already fallen asleep but that doesn't stop him from removing your makeup anyways. You're dead to the world anyways now so you didn't even budge. Once he has successfully removed your makeup, he goes around to turn off all the lights and crawls into bed beside you. He scoots your body closer to his so that your face is on his shoulder. Then he closes his eyes and drifts off in to dream land.

MASTERLIST

[wickedw3asleys]

MINEFIELDS - Pt.1

George Weasley x Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, trauma, mental instability, depression, ptsd... emotional scenes, basically almost angst but not too much...

AN: hello everyone! so i finally got the time to finish writing the first part of my second serie! (i know i haven't finished my Just Like Heaven one but i have adhd bare with me) and i'm pretty excited about this one since it's not going to be a specific genre like fluff or smut, it'll just be a mini fic, so i hope you'll like it!!🥰

☆:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::☆

The Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's premature death was a huge heartbreak for everybody. The ones you once were close to in school were now almost strangers to you. It was sad, pretty sad actually, but none of you got out the same from Hogwarts, and for you, you were still living the trauma and pain of fighting for your life and seeing your friends die, even 4 years later; never being able to fully heal.

You thought that forcing yourself to move on the second you got out of Scotland would help you, but in vain. It was hard for you to completely move on, and the only one that kept you company was Dean, your old Gryffindor friend, who happen to be now your long term boyfriend. He was the only one that was still there after all; not even Harry, Ron, Ginny or Neville bothered in keeping in touch... The only one that sent you a letter from time to time was Hermione. You found yourself writing to her as a sort of therapy, even though you did it once every three or four months. But she was there, somehow...

You learned from her the first year that her and Ron got in a relationship, finally after all these years of being chasing each other; Harry and Ginny were still together; even Luna was now in a happy and healthy relationship, but she couldn't keep you updated about the others.

The part that broke your heart the most was when she first mentioned Molly and Arthur in her letters; after the loss of their son they weren't the same, of course they were still the Weasleys you all once knew, but they were "empty", as Hermione described. Molly, still to this day, would put an extra plate at the family table, expecting to see Fred join them for dinner; and Arthur would spend more and more time in his office, trying to get his mind distracted.

And then George... For the first year he refused to look at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't sleep or eat properly. The day Fred died, a part of him died too, not as twins, but as individual too, and everybody saw it.

When Hermione told you about the hell George had had to go through during these 4 years, you couldn't help but hate yourself deeply for not being next to him and helping him going through that.

"Sometimes I find myself talking to Ronald and Ginny about him, we are all very concerned about him and his health, still to this day... After all, he did not only lost his twin that day... He also lost you..."

Fred, George and you were always together in your school days, since your first day at Hogwarts, even though they were a year older than you. You were always there for them and they were always there for you, always you three, through heaven and hell. You couldn't agree more with Hermione's words, and you hated yourself for that. You had been selfish, not being able to stand by George's side and not giving him any sign of life. At the time, you thought that it would be better for both of you to just disappear, but after all these years, you were completely regretting that decision.

"Sweetheart... Hermione wrote...", Dean says, entering your bedroom, handing you a folder piece of paper, "Are you okay?"

You were once again lost in your thoughts, always the same ones, but Dean always knew how to help you come back to reality. You appreciated that of him, never showing and ounce of pressure or frustration towards you, and you loved him. But you weren't sure if that was truly love or if you were just thankful for him being there... And it was a thought that was slowly killing you inside.

"Huh?", you shook your head, chasing all these intrusive thoughts from it, "Yeah, I'm okay... Let's see what she has to tell me today..."

Dean warmly smiled at you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, "Okay, tell me if you need anything, alright?"

You nodded and opened the paper the moment he left the room.

"My dearest Y/N,

I hope you are doing well. Everything is great here, we are all doing good. Nothing much has changed, except for Harry and Ginny speaking of engagement... I was supposed to keep it secret because it is not entirely confirmed yet but I couldn't help myself from getting excited over it! A good new like this one is what we all need right now...

That is why I am writing to you, I was thinking about making a reunion... A family reunion... After all these years I think it is finally time to get together and talk around a good dinner... As we used to do... I think it would be great for everyone and Molly is already so excited to have you back home, she misses you so much, Y/N... We all mis you...

I hope I get your response soon...

Your dear friend,

Hermione."

You put the letter on your desk and sighed deeply. You knew one day you would have to go back to the Burrow and see everybody again, and you wanted too. You wanted to feel like home again, feel everybody's love and affection again. You truly had missed all that, but after second thoughts, you weren't sure it was a good idea...

Hermione said everybody was missing you, but was that true? Did they all want to see you? Or do they actually still hate you for leaving? You didn't want to face Ginny's, Harry's or Molly's gaze when you get there, you would be too ashamed of it...

"I think you should go...", Dean says after you explained the letter to him, "It's been 4 years, Y/N... You need to see them as much as they need to see you..."

"I know... But what if they hate me...", you say with a small voice.

"They don't hate you", your boyfriends take your hands in his, "I'm sure they've missed you. You practically lived there when we were in school... And you were always with Fred and George..."

The mention of Fred's name made your whole body shiver. It has been a long time since you've heard his name falling out of someone's mouth, and you could feel your heart drop at the sound of it.

"I miss them... So much...", you start tearing.

"I know, sweetheart, I know...", Dean pulls you in a tight hug, never letting you down and holding onto you for dear life.

"You really think I should go?", you ask a few minutes later.

"I do... I don't like the idea of leaving you alone but I think it would be better if you went by yourself... Next time I'll go with you"

"Are you sure?"

"Completely...", he smiled.

The days that followed Hermione's letter, you had sent your positive response to her and started packing your things for the few days you were going to spend at the Burrow. Hermione had told you that the only one aware of your visit was Molly of course, but it would be a total surprise for the rest, that information only making you more nervous.

The D-day came up more quick than you've had thought, but there you were, now standing in the middle of your living room, saying your goodbyes to Dean, surrounded by your bags.

"Good luck... Everything is going to be okay...", he says, leaving the last small peck on your lips.

You warmly smiled to him and in a second, you apparated on the field in front of the Burrow.

You could feel your eyes already water at the sight of it. It was like nothing had changed, and even after all the thing that house had been through, it looked the same as it did the first time you stayed there.

The smell of rain and wet grass filling your nostrils and the sound of the wind and early birds only made you more nostalgic. Damn you had missed this place. It was home, you were home.

After a moment trying to compose yourself, you took your bags and went straight to the building.

When you got to the front door, you realized that you didn't know what to do; should you knock? Should you just enter the house? Thinking that the second option would be the less appropriate, you decided to just knock, already nervous about who you'd get opening the door.

You waited a few seconds before hearing an echo of someone running though the house, followed by voices and sounds of plates.

"Harry, dear, can you please-

"Hello, Molly...", you smiled to the woman in front of you, "it's been a while..."

She was in complete shock. Her mouth completely open and strangely looking like she was about to pass out.

"Oh Merlin...", she breathes out, "Y/N... It's really you..."

You could see tears starting to form in her eyes, and you felt too weak to stop yours from falling. She opened her arms to you and you didn't hesitate to hug her, instantly starting to sob.

"Let me look at you... Oh my Lord...", she took your face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs on your cheeks, collecting your tears, "You're a grown woman now... I can't believe it... Arthur! Arthur, come here!"

She embraced you again in the warmest motherly hug you've ever received, which only made you sob more.

"What's wrong, mom?", Ron arrived at the door, followed by his sister, Hermione and Arthur, "Who's-

You slowly lift up you head from Molly's shoulder and faced everyone.

"Y/N... You came...", Hermione says, shocked.

"Of course I came..."

Everybody was speechless, not knowing if you were actually real or just a pure product of their imagination. Ginny instantly got towards you, embracing you as warmly as her mother.

"Merlin... How are you?", she asks.

"I'm fine... I'm sorry... I-

"You have nothing to be sorry for, darling...", Mr. Weasley was now the one to hug you.

When he let you go, you looked at the other three people; you couldn't really describe the looks on Harry and Ron's faces, they were visibly shocked, but you couldn't see if they were happy or mad to see you...

"Ronald...", you started to make your way towards him, but quickly, he took a few steps back, "I need to go...", he says, before leaving the room.

You knew it was a fair reaction, he had all the rights to hate you and be upset.

"I'm so sorry...", you sob, "I'm so so sorry..."

Harry put his hand on your shoulder and also embraced you in a warm hug.

You didn't expect the reunion to be this full of emotions, and it wasn't even breakfast's time yet...

Hermione and Ginny helped you with your bags, leading you to Charlie's empty room, the one you always used to stay in whenever you stayed with the Weasleys.

"It hasn't changed a bit...", you say, admiring the house as it was the first time you saw it.

The two girls entered the room and sat on the bed with you, only to stay there in silence hugging you for a moment. As you couldn't believe to actually be there, they couldn't believe it either.

You made a brief resume of what had happened in your life during these 4 years; why you had left, where you were living now, your life with Dean...

"Dean?", Ginny smiled, "Wow... I wasn't expecting that one..."

"Yeah... I hope it's okay though...", you say, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, it's completely fine... Besides...", she stops to lift her hand and wiggle her ring finger, now occupied with a big gemstone.

"Godric! You're joking!", you take her hand, "I mean... Hermione told me about something like this in the letter, but I didn't know it was confirmed!"

"Hermione!", Ginny scolds her.

"Sorry! You know I'm very bad at keeping secrets! I was so excited for you!"

The three of you kept laughing and talking about everything, making you forget about the moment you had been apprehending for the past few days: your first meeting with George.

"Breakfast's ready!", you hear Molly's voice echo through the house, making memories come back to you.

You slowly made your way down the stairs with the girls and when you got to the kitchen, you felt you whole body freeze.

You were feeling like you were about to pass out, but at the same time, you couldn't find yourself making any type of move, you weren't sure if you were still breathing. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulder when you saw the man you had shared so many moments with, and when he turned to face you, you saw his brother.

His body immediately copied yours, not being able to move or say anything, and for a good minute, George and you stood still, staring at each other; and as if you had read each other's mind at the same time, you ran towards each other and crashed in your arms, sobbing like babies. You felt his legs start to lose strength, and you not being able to help him stand, you both let your bodies fall to the ground, still hugging and holding on each other for dear life.

Neither of you had said anything yet, you were both too busy shaking and sobbing to say anything anyways.

The other people in the kitchen didn't say anything either, they just stood there, looking at George and you, knowing that it would be better to not interrupt you and just leave you let your emotions out.

George was obviously was more affected than you were, and you could feel his body tremble with every breath he tried to take.

"I m-missed you... so much...", he managed to say between sobs.

"I missed you too, Georgie...", you keep crying with him.

"W-why... did you... left me..."

"I know... I know... I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry...", you sobbed harder. How could you have done that to him? How could you have left him alone? After everything...

"I'm so sorry, Georgie... So sorry... I missed you so much..."

"Please, tell me you're staying...", he looked at you in the eyes. You could feel his sincerity emane from his body, and you knew he needed you. He needed you as much as you needed him.

"I am staying...", you managed to smile between your tears. George hugged you even tighter than before, crushing your body with his but you didn't care. You'd let him break your whole body if he needed to.

"Georgie... Honey...", you felt Molly's soft presence helping you get up and guiding the both of you to the table. When you sat down, you see that everybody was deeply affected by the scene that just happened; Molly still having tears running down her cheeks and Hermione and Ginny holding onto each other. Even Harry and Ron were on the verge of crying.

You sat down on your chair, George's eyes still on you and your hand in his.

"George, darling..."

You quickly turned your head to the voice behind you.

"Angie...", George got up, almost stumbling on his own feet.

"What is she doing here?", she asks, earning confused looks from everybody.

By the look she had on her face, you knew she wasn't happy to see you. She looked at you with disgust and anger, which was completely fair...

"How dare you?! You filthy little-

"Angie, it's okay... Please, calm down..."

"Calm down?! Look at you! Only her can make you feel that way again!"

"Angelina... I promise I came here to start things over... And do things correctly this time...", you say, tears forming again in your eyes.

"You have NO RIGHTS to be here! After all the damage you caused this family! NO RIGHTS!", she yelled, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

You looked at the people around the table, no one saying anything. Not even Molly was able to form coherent words, she was just there, heavily breathing.

"I'm going to go...", you slowly stand up from your seat, not wanting to make everyone more upset than they already were, "Angelina, I'm sorry..."

She glanced at you in anger, "you shouldn't be here", she spat.

"Y/N, don't leave, please...", George pleaded, eyes red and swollen.

"I'm just going out, I'll be okay, don't worry...", you caressed his arm trying to comfort him, and you could feel Angelina tensing her body at that action, eyes full of fire.

"I'm sorry...", you say before closing the door behind you.

[saigonharrington]

Stargazing // g.w

Well, hello, this is my first ever one shot/imagine and I hope it isn't that bad... also english is not my first language so !TW! mistakes ;)

If I write more cause I have some ideas in my mind, I'll create masterlist (?) or something like that lol, maybe someone should explain me how all the things work here.

Anyway, here it is

George Weasley x fem!reader (somehow related to Diggorys)

There is nothing said about years or hogwarts house, so feel free to imagine it if you want.

It's pretty fluffy, but Fred jokes from time to time about inappropriate things.

It has about 1.2k words, so it's quite short.

Summary: Y/N stays at the Burrow during the summer and talks with George about memories.

Spending time with the Weasleys at the Burrow was always entertainment because these people were never bored. Imagine what an amazing time they had during summer. Y/N came here a few days ago and never had the time to catch a breath. Her boyfriend invited her, wanting to spend some more time together. Harry and Hermione also were here, but they spend all day in Ron's room or outside, looking for something and ignoring everyone. Percy also wasn't eager to have an active summer, he was always drinking tea and reading books, or complaining about everything.

But Y/N, George, Fred, Ginny, and occasionally Bill and Charlie had fun every day. Their splendid ideas about things to do during summer were almost immediately were quickly realized. They had played hide-and-seek, severe quidditch matches, they even tried to cook something, which didn't turn that bad as they expected, but they left so much mess that Molly forbids them to do it anymore.

After some research, they decided to do stargazing and spend (or at least try) the whole night outside because of perseids.

Even the golden trio decided to join in after they heard that we're having supper under the stars, and we'll bring many sweets as a dessert.

"Are you ready to spend the whole night with my family next to us?" George asked, making Y/N blush because she didn't realize this earlier. "Well, we're not planning to do anything nasty, then why should I?" She replied smirking. "It's gonna be cute, you and me, lying under the stars, holding hands…" She dreamt. "And Fred by our side." "And Fred by our side… damn. He'll annoy the shit out of us, won't he, pup?" Y/N said, calling George pup as always.

"Yeah, won't I, pup?" Fred came out of nowhere, laughing at that nickname.

"Fred I swear I'm gonna cut your ears because you're always eavesdropping!" Y/N screamed, hitting Fred on the arm.

"George, why did you have to pick a girl with anger issues? I expected more from you" Fred added, disappearing from the living room, as he noticed that Y/N wanted to hit him once more.

Night came by really quickly, and everybody was outside, lying on the blankets, watching the stars and eating goodies.

"Fred, when did you start calling Georgie pup?" Y/N asked curiously.

"Well, one time I said that sarcastically because I heard you saying that, but it quickly clicked, and I couldn't call George by his name again."

"Yeah, and I got used to being a puppy. Cause I'm cute." George added grinning, so Y/N gave him a wet kiss on the cheek.

"Ew, gross." Said Fred "I'm gonna try to make Ron angry now, be right back soon." And he got up to go to lay on another blanket, shouting at Ginny to move, because he wanted to be next to Harry.

"You know what" Y/N started. "I remember when you were jealous of me, and we weren't even together." She started explaining what suddenly came to her mind.

" Can't blame me, Diggory was around you like 24/7, I didn't even have a chance to talk to you properly. How could I say that you're the one I fancy when he was always there, making you smile, and you didn't bother."

"Well maybe because I didn't have someone to talk to. And he was my only friend. And cousin, therefore he was no competition for you. Although I have to admit that you look funny when you're jealous."

"Since we're calling each other out, do you remember when we were at the lake last summer? And you saw a frog, which you are afraid of, and you jumped at me like I was your superhero. That was hilarious. How can one be afraid of frogs? I mean, it's cute, but you were so terrified, I had to laugh."

"Yeah and that's why you dropped me. It wasn't amusing, I feel like I'm still aching even if it was that long ago."

"Get a room! We came here to watch the stars and talk with each other, not listen to you teasing each other." Ron got angry.

"Are you envious Ickle Ronniekins?" George asked. "Because I can simply call you out. You know, that one night in May when…" He started, wanting to remind his brother about one time when he had drunk too much and cried because Hermione was mad at him.

It's obvious that when there was more of them, the wittier were conversations. Talking about random stuff, and gossiping about the ones that weren't present here tonight, made them realize that they were not paying attention to perseids.

"You know." Ginny said and everyone turned around to hear what she's got in mind. "I didn't see a damn thing in the sky. I'm going home, it's quite cold." She got up. "Harry?" She added, which made the boy get up as well and follow her like a lost puppy.

"Maybe someone deserves that nickname more than me." George made everyone chuckle, except for Ron, who definitely wasn't fond of Harry spending time with his little sister.

"Hey Ron, you can't protect her from everything. She's old enough to take care of herself. Besides, you should be glad, that it's your best friend who's with her, not some random rude bloke" Fred gave a speech which made Ron even angrier because he didn't like when people tell him what is right. After a while he also went home, telling us he needs to play chess to relax and Hermione was eager to join him.

"Just the three of us." Fred said, moving onto our blanket again. "So, what are we going to talk about, pups?"

"About your crush on Angelina." Y/N mocked him.

"Suddenly I'm not interested in keeping the conversation with you, guys. Just don't get too loud, I hear like a bat."

Y/N moved her head from the blanket to George's stomach to lay on it.

"You want to hear digesting food or what?" He joked, playing gently with her hands.

"It's more comfortable here. You know, I thought others will last longer tonight. But maybe we were mending to watch the stars alone."

"Yeah, the sky is almost as beautiful as you. I don't know why they left."

"You're so cheesy, maybe that's the reason. Oh, look! Shooting star, make a wish."

"What does it mean?" He asked.

"In the muggle world, when you see a shooting star, you make a wish, so that it can come true."

"Am I supposed to tell you what is my wish?"

"No. Otherwise it won't come true."

"I am pretty sure it will." He said, kissing her passionately.

Y/N wished this moment to last forever, while George's wish was to be with Y/N forever because he can't imagine his future with anyone else.

[animealways]

safer with you

hermione x fem!reader

prev

hermione never thought she would ever hug a slytherin to comfort them. let alone a slytherin thats friends with malfoy but here she is hugging you infront of the lake hoping this would calm you down. you had recalled old memories about your mothers death and how draco and his mother helped you get thru it but it was clear to hermione you weren't over the death of your mother. luckily the hug seem to work.

''you're so warm and soft. it... it makes me feel safe'' she could feel you smile since you had your face againts her neck and she couldn't help but smile when you said that. ''i really love this feeling'' she could also feel her heartbeat rising while you said that. she had notice something different after you started to teach the golden trio wandless magic. ever since that day when you said you would help harry with becoming stronger for his safety she found herself thinking about ALOT. you basicly never left her mind whether she just woke up or in class or about to fall asleep, it never felt like she had enough of your time despite the fact you hang out with her everyday, she started loving it when you protected her from bullies despite everyone els agreeing you looked terriffying doing so and she would never say this out loud but she started to get jealous that you're so close with malfoy.

she denied having a crush on you until now. the way you hugged her tight, having you this close, saying you felt safer with her, how it made you feel better but the thing that made her realize that she can't deny it anymore was when you said that 1 word love. how it made her belly fill with buterflies. she wanted this and now she knew you are a lesbian. she was thinking about what if she confesed? she didn't wanna ruin the friendship you guys had. despite the fact you guys hadn't even know each other for a year that didn't matter. you always showed you didn't care what others say about her being muggleborn and you a pureblood or you a slytherin friends with gryffindors. you were just kind to her and proved you were a good person despite what your house, friendships or whatever might say. you brought her comfort that neither ron or harry can give her. her head was going faster then she could react. it felt like when she could think about 1 thing properly and her head already came up with 5 more things.

you backed up abit but still held hermione in your arms. ''thanks for calming me down...'' ''sure anytime and are you alright? i can tell those memories were alot for you'' hermione said still rubbing your back ''yeah its just when think about it... it makes me realise how easy it is to lose loved once'' hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. She is lucky enough to say she never lost anyone that importent to her. you laid your forehead against her shoulder. ''hey hermione?'' ''yeah?'' ''can we do this more often'' ''you like cuddling with me?'' ''yeah your perfum and shampoo smell nice, your warm and soft and it calms me down'' hermione couldn't help but giggle at your responds. you turned your head facing her. ''what?'' ''who would have thought that behind those fengs, deathglare and big mouth you would be so cute dork'' you chuckled ''the boy i punch in the face the other day that called you 'mudblood' wouldn't say the same along with ALOT of other people''

the 2 of you eventually went to the rest of your classes. a couple days passed since that happend. you were walking with the golden trio when you heard something weird. as if somebody was sharping their knife. that when you guys saw him. the guy thats gonna have buckbeaks head literally. after you were out of ear shot you wishpered ''first dementor now that lunatic with a axe whats next?'' ''buckbeaks death'' harry said clearly upset. ''can't believe their gonna kill buckbeak its just too horrible'' as hermione said that you could hear draco and 2 of his minions rather happy and excited and you knew why. ''and the day just got worse'' they looked at you confused until you pointed at draco and his friends.

next

[wellbafineline]

official

(1.7k) / feedback! / other writings!

a.n. hiii, this is my first full length fic, no one asked for this but this is the concept that i’ve been daydreaming about so here you go :) hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated <3 

how you and harry make things official

You'd been ‘seeing’ Harry for about 3 months, he’d been introduced to you by your mutual friends in London. The only thing was, you weren't really together, not as far as you were concerned at least. Your and Harry's relationship was seemingly casual, you hooked up, slept over at each other's places, ordered take out and watched shitty reality tv every Friday night while complaining about your shitty weeks at work (after hearing about her for three months he’d began to really hate Rachel from your office) and most other things people in relationships did. Just you guys did it without the labels and strings. 

And you'd had no problem with that at first, you understood. He was busy, wasn't always around, or had the most reliable schedule. But as you approached 4 months of whatever you and Harry had going on, you started to get more questions from both of your friends about the more intimate and logistical details of your relationship. You had begun to get pretty good at getting around them or changing the subject, but that didn't mean the nagging feeling in your gut went away when they asked.

//

That's exactly what's happening currently, you’d gone out with your two best friends to a bar in the city. They’d been begging for a catch up for a week, but you'd been at Harry's for the week because he wanted ‘all the time he could get’ before he had to go to LA for a couple of weeks to put finishing touches on his album. 

But now you were all squished together into a tiny booth in the corner of the bar, and you were listening to your friend Lindsey complain about the new project she was doing in work and how it was way below her pay grade when Destiny jumps in when she’s finished turning herself to face you 

‘So, how’s your boyfriend’ she asked you. Knowing she emphasized the ‘boyfriend’ to get you to spill if you and Harry made it official yet you sighed.

‘He's not my boyfriend, you know that, no strings’ 

‘Yeah I know that, but I also know you’re delusional. You just spent a week straight at his house and you're both not seeing other people so… what's the harm in labeling it.’ she trailed off ‘do you want that with him?’ Lindsey asks when you don't start talking

‘Of course, I want that, at least think I do, just what we've got going on is good, y’know, there's no pressure on it and it's easy’ you sigh ‘plus he’s Harry and there's a lot more that comes with being in a relationship with him than just anyone else’

‘So find someone else, no drama, sorted,’ Lindsey says  ‘no-i- that's not what I meant, just meant it'll be harder’ ‘have to ask yourself if this is what you want, you two can't go on like this forever’ she explains ‘And if it is, talk to him, now backing out this time, ‘cause you said you were gonna talk to him about this like a month ago too.’ 

‘I know, and i will, promise this time, but he's gone for a couple of weeks anyway don't want to do it over facetime so it'll have to wait till he's home’

//

After your meet up with Lindsey and Destiny you spent a lot more time than you probably should've thinking about what to do, about you, about harry and about your relationship with harry, if you can even call it that. 

He gets back from LA on Friday now, it was your plan to go over to his house, order take out, watch a film or help him unpack like you two always do when he gets back from long periods away because he ‘missed you the most and needs to see you asap.’

But this time you were going to talk to him, no chickening out.

//

You’d agreed to meet Harry at his place on Friday, you finished work around 3pm and he wasn't going to be home till at least 7 maybe 8pm. But you went over anyway letting yourself in with a key he gave you about a month ago saying ‘f’ emergencies love, or when your flat mate’s getting on your fuckin’ nerves’. 

Truthfully you didn’t know what you were going to do at Harry's for 4-ish hours alone but you figured it was better than sitting anxiously at home or at your desk at work. At least it gave you time to think, make a plan of action, because as you'd realised sometime in the past two weeks, there was a very real chance that this was all Harry wanted, that this is where you’d end. Because there was no way you could lay it all out for him just to go back to glorified friends with benefits. 

Leaving your coat and work bag at the door when you arrived, you make your way to his kitchen to make some tea before getting comfortable on the couch in the living room, appreciating what you assume is the calm before the storm. 

//

At around 7pm, exactly when he promised, you hear a car pull up the driveway and what can only be Harry's heavy footsteps in the hallway. ‘Love, you here, got taken away on the way home’ he called out as you got up to go meet him in the kitchen. 

‘Mm, missed you’ you reached up to peck his cheek ‘but I missed this more’ as you started taking the containers out of the take out bag ‘but I missed this more’ 

‘Heyyy!, not true and you know it.’ 

‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that.’ 

‘C’mon, jus’ shut up and eat.’ 

//

You’d been like this for a few hours. He was laying on the couch with you on top of him. Your head on his chest, with the tv playing in the background. Harry was drifting off to sleep, jetlag finally catching up to him but you were wide awake. Sighing a bit too loudly and moving to get up you suddenly felt a pair of hands gripping to your waist.

‘Where y’ goin’ love’ Harry murmurs, his eyes still closed. ‘Just to get some water, go back asleep.’ You answered him but he didn't let go of you leaving you sat in his lap with you looking up at you from his position laying down.

‘Are y’ alright, seem, um, stiff’ He questioned, you could tell he knew something was off and he was harry so he probably wouldn't give up till you told him, so now or never you thought. No chickening out. 

‘um, Harry, I've, um, been meaning to talk to you about this for a while’ You started, pausing after to properly think of how to do this, you hadn't thought it’d go like this in your head. You thought it’d be in his kitchen maybe bedroom but definitely not when you were basically straddling him on the couch.

His voice interrupted your thoughts, prompting you to carry on ‘C’mon spit it out love, what's wrong.’ 

‘Nothings wrong, well I don't think anything wrong, i- just. Harry what are we?’ You finally just ripped the bandage off, thinking there was no point to really skip around it.

‘Oh, well,’ he paused. ‘We're us.’

‘No, H, I mean are we like, together’ 

‘Where's this comin’ from love’ as he started to stroke your thigh feeling that you were starting to back away from him, as much as you could at least.

‘Just, y’know, friends, people, are asking. We've been doing this for a while, H, bound to come up at some point’

‘Well, what do you want to do about it then, have t’ tell me, not a mind reader love.’ He chuckled.

‘Are we together, or I don't know can we be.’ After everything you’d done together, he still seems to make you nervous, both butterflies from being giddy and deathly terrified of his answer.

His reaction to that was not what you expected at all his face erupted into one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him wear. ‘Like boyfriend and girlfriend?’ He grins at you

‘Yeah, I guess, yeah like boyfriend and girlfriend.’ You’d moved back to lay on him, and now your face was buried in his neck, even with the smile on his face the still small chance that this was the end was still eating at your nerves. 

Harry sat up suddenly, with you now sitting in his lap he tightened his arms around your waist almost as if he knew you'd try to squirm out of his grasp, and tried to coax you to look at him.

‘Y’ askin me yo be ya boyfriend, babe?’ he's got a shit-eating grin on his face now and that's exactly the reaction you needed for the weight of rejection to be lifted off of you. 

‘Guess I am, what's your answer.’ 

‘No no no, never actually asked me did ya can’t answer if y’ don't ask’ 

‘You're really making me do this h?’ You stared and raised your eyebrows at him.

‘Yeah, c’mon love thought there was somethin’ you wanted to ask me.’ You could tell he was enjoying this, and you tried to completely let your guard down and play along.

‘Okay, will you, Harry Styles, do me the honour of being my boyfriend?’ your voice was dripping with sarcasm but you both knew what you were asking was sincere.

‘Thought you’d never ask babe’ he said while his hand cupped your jaw moving your face to finally kiss you. 

As you pulled away he was smiling at you, bigger than you’d seen him smile for a while. ‘Think I'm gonna be good at this boyfriend thing, don't you?’

‘Yeah I do’ you sighed as he lay back on the couch where you guys were sitting. You had your arms wrapped around his waist as he was tracing up and down your back. You really couldn’t remember what you were so nervous about 3 hours ago.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Saving Grace - Part 15

A/N: Just a quick update because i've been slacking!! 💕

As lovely as my weekend away with Bucky had been i was so happy to be back with Harrison and Grace. Harrison had been so excited to see us when we got back to the compound.... he crashed out an hour later, clearly he wore himself out!

The next couple of days i mostly spent with Wanda, she was helping me with the kids while we sorted out the details for Harrison's birthday party. Bucky, Sam, Steve and Clint had all been kept busy with work. Bucky and Sam had had so many meetings with Ross while Clint and Steve had been training recruits.

"I can't believe our little Harry is 4 the day after tomorrow!" Wanda smiled sadly as we finished sorting some last minute party details "i missed so much of those years..."

"Aww Wan, dont be sad. You're here for him now thats all that matters, Harrison loves his Auntie Wands"

"I love him too! And my little miss Gracie, Y/N you seriously have the perfect kids!"

"They are pretty great, but i'm totally biased" i laughed quietly trying not to disturb Grace who was fast asleep in my arms.

"How's the house hunting going?"

"We've seen a few places online" i shrugged "but honestly, we just haven't had time to properly look yet what with Bucky being stuck in meetings most of the day. He comes home exhausted most days, i can't expect him to sit up for hours looking for houses"

"Ross has definitely kept them busy since you've been back from your dirty weekend" she smirked while wiggling her eyebrows.

"Funny" i laughed shaking my head at her "I think i preferred it when he didn't want Bucky and Sam involved in whatever god awful plans he's making"

"I think we all did" she chuckled.

Once the final details for Harrisons party were sorted i headed down to the gym to meet Bucky while Wanda stayed with the kids. We had arranged for some refresher training after the break in and realising how rusty i was, it was decided it would be a good idea for me to get back into fighting shape.... of course Bucky volunteered to help me. Walking into the gym i looked around for that man of mine but he was nowhere in sight, i sat and waited for 15 minutes and still nothing.

Y/N: Hey babe, i'm at the gym.... you still okay for our training session? Xx

Bucky: Fuck, sorry baby i'm still in this meeting with Ross..... can we reschedule something for tomorrow? Xx

Y/N: okay not a problem, i'll see you later xx

I tucked my phone into my bag and grabbed my water bottle ready to head back to the living quarter's when i heard my name being called, I turned around and was face to face with Steve.

"Hey, you leaving already?" He asked looking confused "you just got here"

"Yeah i was supposed to be meeting Bucky, he was going to train with me. After the break in and realising how out of practice i am we thought it'd be a good idea" i shrugged.

"He ain't coming?"

"Nope, Ross has them stuck in some meeting"

"I could help you.... i mean its not like i haven't trained with you before and im done for the day"

"I don't know....."

"Wow, you're really gonna turn down the chance to land some punches on me huh?"

"Well when you say it like that..... sure! Lets do this" i smiled shaking my head "just go easy on me its been a while since i've done this"

"We'll go slow, come on" he nodded towards the sparing mats and i followed him over, Steve tossed me some gloves while he took off his hoody and rolled his shoulders out.

"When was the last time you trained?"

"Before i found out i was pregnant with Harrison" i replied avoiding eye contact with Steve, i remembered it clearly. The second i found out i was pregnant i decided i was out of the avenging life, and being a new mom i just didn't have the time for training.

"Wow"

"I know, i should have at least tried to keep up with some of it...."

"No, its not that, its just you look good"

"Having two kids keeps me busy" i shrugged "besides, i could use the tone up. Im still carrying some baby weight..."

"Well not that my opinion counts but i think you look great" Steve said blushing slightly, it reminded me of when we first started dating. Steve would always get embarrassed when paying me a compliment, it was cute. I finished fastening the gloves and stepped onto the mat to stand in front of Steve who held up his bare hands.

"You don't wanna grab some pads??"

"Im good, i can take it" he smirked.

"Lets do this then".

It only took 10-15 minutes before i was finally getting into it, the moves suddenly falling into place, my confidence increasing.

"Okay i think we're good here for today my hands are gonna bruise" Steve smirked after a good 40 minutes of sparing.

"It'll be gone in seconds don't be a baby Steve..... besides i'm enjoying myself"

"How about we change it up then, lets work on your defence. Gloves off, i'm gonna come at you.... stop me"

"Stop you?? Steve you're a super soldier!"

"I'll go easy on you sweetheart don't worry" he chuckled, his laugh quickly dying when he noticed his slip up of calling me sweetheart, old habits die hard i guess. I didn't react to it i just pulled off the gloves and turned to throw them off to the side. While my back was turned Steve lunged at me wrapping his arms around me so my arms were pinned to my body.

"Hey! Cheater!" I moaned struggling in his hold.

"Break free..... remember what i used to tell you?"

I tossed my head back hard hitting Steve in the nose, he wasn't expecting me to hit him so hard and loosened his hold on me enough so i could elbow him in the gut, i turned in his arms and was about to aim for the groin but he quickly blocked my attack and swept my legs out from under me. I landed hard on my back, Steve was then straddling my hips with my hands pinned to the floor.

"Nice try..... did you have to head butt me that hard though?" He laughed.

"It wasn't that hard, maybe you're outta practice too old man".

"Whats going on here?" I heard Bucky from behind and i turned as much as i could to look at him.

"Hey babe, Steve offered to train with me.....but i'm not so sure he's up for the job. Old man Rogers can't even take a head butt to the face anymore"

"Still kicked your ass though"

"You can get off of her now man, you've proved your point. I'll take over from here" Bucky said throwing a death glare at his ex best friend. Steve quickly got up and went to reach his hand out to help me up but Bucky quickly beat him to it. I took Bucky's hand and he easily got me to my feet before pulling me close.

"You wanna carry on training for a bit longer or are you done?"

"I think i'm done for the day" i smiled up at him "i need a shower".

"Okay lets go"

"Thanks for the training session Steve"

"Sure, anytime".

Bucky was silent on the walk back to our room, unusually quiet.

"Hey, you okay? Did you have a bad meeting with Ross?" I asked closing the door so we had some privacy.

"Meeting was fine" he mumbled.

"So whats wrong?"

"Oh maybe it was walking in finding your ex straddling you in the middle of the gym....."

"Buck come on, he just offered to help me out for a bit"

"I know but i dont like it! Seeing him like that with you....." he shook his head and i knew he was thinking of Steve and I together.

"Hey, you have nothing to worry about. You know that right? Im yours.....Completely"

"I know that, i do, but i can't help but worry when i see you two together. You've got history and kids....."

"We have a shitty history incase you forgot? And the kids are yours, you might not be their biological father but you have been more of a dad to them than Steve has been"

"Im scared im going to loose you.... all of you"

"Baby you have nothing to worry about i promise you. I love you Bucky Barnes and im yours"

"I love you too doll, i love you so much" he leant down and kissed me hard pulling me tight to his body.

"You wanna come join me for that shower Sergeant?"

"Yes m'am".

Saving grace tags: @jennmurawski13 @kenzieam

@captainchrisstan @s-t-r-i-k-e-us

@lets--be-honest @ms-betsy-fangirl

@damnaged-princess @farfromtommy

@disneylovingal @lbuck121 @billweasleey @heathens-takeitsl0w

@lacontroller1991 @supervengerslock

@mariswritingforfun

@perpetually-tuned-out @thummbelina

@marvelousstyles @broco8 @ineffableg-irl @ilovesupersoldiers

@writeroutoftime @ek823

@Imjstaghoststory @cap-just-said-language

@xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @bellemile @buckyandsebastian @afuckingshituniverse @i-ran-out-of-fanfics

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly

[ma-gic-gay]

Just as Michael's about to answer their question, Jason's phone goes off. "Perfect timing," he mutters before going outside to take the call. "Jason Morgan."

"Mr. Morgan, it appears Mr. Renault is at the office demanding to speak with you. What should I do?" One of his employees informs him.

"Cyrus has my number. If he would like to schedule a meeting, tell him he can call me and we'll have one."

"I've already told him that and he won't agree to it."

Dammit. Peace in this town is fragile enough; the last thing they need is an angry Cyrus. He's been unstable as of late, not agreeing to this could lead to a gunfight. Well, that's actually to be expected. "We'll meet at the office in twenty minutes then. Tell him to call off his men, including Brando. Look around the perimeter and have the rest of the guards check to make sure that there's no one on the premises or within range of hitting someone."

"Yes sir," the employee agrees, hanging up the phone.

"Business stuff?" Willow asks cautiously. After all, this is the first time she's been in this situation.

"Yeah," Michael answers, sensing from the businesslike stance he's taken in their kitchen. "Let's go check on the kids."

They leave the room and instantly Carly asks, "What did he do?"

"Demanded we meet. I don't know why or what this is about, so please tell me you didn't do anything stupid that could cost the truce to be undone."

"I haven't done anything. I've considered it, but I haven't done anything yet," she tells him. "How long til the meeting?"

"I've gotta get going. You have to stay here, this doesn't concern you. Cyrus is looking for a fight and you'll give him one. He's looking for any reason to violate the truce and take me out," Jason informs her. "I mean it. No showing up."

"Is it a solo meeting?"

"Yes."

"You want me to sit here and list out the times he's tried to kill you this past year and a half? Jason, you can't got to a meeting alone. You'll get killed!" Carly exclaims.

"No I won't, Carly. I've got it handled, I told you," he says, glancing at his watch.

"Yes you will! You need to stop agreeing to these one on one meetings because one of these days he's going to get you killed and I won't be able to survive that!"

"I told you, I'm not getting killed!"

"Can you predict the future? No, you can't! I know you might want to go and have this meeting but you can't do it alone!"

"I'm going to the meeting, Carly. You are going to stay here with your kids, grandkids, and Willow," he says, voice unbudging. She's not going to win.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"Carly-"

"Promise me, Jason, or you're not going!"

"I promise."

"Fine, you can go," she surrenders, hugging him. "But be safe."

"As safe as I can be, meeting with him," he agrees.

"Alright, well you better go now or you're not going to be able to say goodbye to the kids."

He bids them all goodbye, hugs Carly again, and leaves for the meeting. His gun is on him, as is his cell phone. Though the usefulness of a cell phone is to be questioned when it's a mob meeting he's having. Not like he can exactly call the police if anything happens, they'd arrest him.

Arriving at the office, he senses that today's going to be a long day.

"Hey Harry, is it clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright, thanks," he says before walking into the office. "Cyrus. What's so urgent?"

"Well, Sonny's been gone a year now. I was hoping we could revisit us joining together for a way to continue the peace in this town," Cyrus answers.

"Like I told you the day you found out he was missing, that isn't happening. You're not going to run your product through this town and ruin it. This was Sonny's territory and if he's not dead and comes back, it'll be his again. We both agreed no drugs. It's not happening. Is that all?" Jason asks, bored.

"No, actually. I was wondering how Mrs. Corinthos is holding up. Given that this is the anniversary of losing her husband, I'd presume not well."

"None of your damn business."

"No need to get so defensive, I'm merely posing a question. Trying to make conversation."

"If you don't have anything related to business to discuss, my men will escort you out."

"Oh, but I doubt you will," Cyrus says, laughing evilly. "You'll be too dead to even have the chance to get me out of this room." He takes his gun from his pocket rather dramatically for Jason's taste and aims for him.

Drawing his gun himself, the now mob boss ducks, narrowly missing the bullet before firing his own, missing the other mobster by only a few inches. That was on purpose; a warning shot of sorts. "It never occurred to me," the ponytail clad man continues unaffected, "that you'd be so easy to take out. I mean, really. Your reputation is that you're businesslike and directly to the point, but then you've agreed to several meetings with me alone. I was planning on having some fairly difficult plans to kill you, but you've simply fallen into my lap. I do suppose I feel a bit bad, however, that Mrs. Corinthos will have to deal with you being dead as well."

There's a line you just don't cross in business, and that's been crossed. He remembers his promise to not die and snaps into action. "Fire that gun again and I hit you right between the eyes," Jason warns, setting himself up for his shot.

"I sense I've hit a nerve," Cyrus smiles, "mentioning her like that. Tell me, Mr. Morgan, has it ever occurred to you that you're the reason she even knows about this business? With you gone, I suppose she'll be taking it over. Though I don't doubt her, I do doubt her ability to properly run this business. It's doubtful that she'll even make it a few weeks before she's ki-"

Another warning shot goes from Jason's gun, this one only barely above his head. "Last warning, Cyrus. This isn't a game. She's barely involved in this business and you have no right to bring her up when this fight is between us. So drop the gun and get on the ground."

Chuckling as though he doesn't even really believe that he's about to be taken out, Cyrus stupidly continues, "I'll probably send one of my men to kill her, you know. Try to make it painless out of respect for her."

"Talking about me?" Carly asks, walking in with armed guards. She's got the worst timing.

"Yes I was, Mrs. Corinthos. How are you?"

"I'd be better if you were in a casket six feet under," she answers calmly. "Now, put your gun down before I kill you with my bare hands."

Where the fuck did she learn how to do that? He didn't teach her, neither did Sonny. Who did? Not the point, Carly isn't supposed to be here. She's now got the chance to be shot. That would kill him faster than the bullet wound he feels he could get.

"You heard her," Jason says. "Gun down, on the ground."

Turns out that's what needed to be done. The guards with guns pointed at his head doesn't hurt either, he's sure, but Cyrus finally gets on the ground and drops his gun.

"Good. Get Mrs. Corinthos out of here, now," he orders, to her complaints. "Carly, just go."

"I, personally, have nothing against her being here," Cyrus voices.

"You have no say." When Carly leaves, Jason calmly continues, "You mention her name again in front of me and I'll kill you. Talk about your plan to take me out again and you'll be dead. Nothing is changing. This is your last warning. Next time you try to kill me or someone I care about, you'll be dead quicker than you can even move from the scene. Get out."

Angrily, the ponytail clad man leaves, escorted by the guards. Jason then makes sure everyone knows to make sure there's no evidence of what happened, and that there's especially none Carly was ever there before he joins her in her car.

It's a quiet ride, with him firing off orders for his men and her pouting.

"I was right! He wanted you dead! You fell right into his trap!" She exclaimed when they walked into the living room of her house.

"No I didn't! Carly, I had it all under control!"

"Gun pointed at you, Jason! I walked in and there was a gun pointed at you!"

"I had mine pointed at him too! You can't walk into a gunfight!"

"Oh, but you can start one? You can get shot, I can't? Is that how this works?"

"The only reason you'd be shot in general is because of me, Carly! I introduced you to the business, I'm the reason you and Sonny got together, and I'm the reason you're still apart of it. I can deal with getting myself shot, I've survived other bullets before, but I can't deal with you getting shot!"

"I didn't!"

"Yeah, because I kicked you out of there!"

"I brought the guards, I was safe!"

"You walked into a gunfight when I told you it was the stupid thing to do! I told you not to go but you couldn't help yourself, could you, and you went to the meeting."

"You want me to tell you I was wrong and apologize? I'm not gonna do that! You could've been killed! God knows what Sonny's livelihood status is, but yours is alive. Alive, Jason! I'm not risking you dying, alright?"

"I've survived bullets before, I'd survive this one!"

"How do you know that? I need you to stay alive, so I don't care what your feelings are on the subject and I'm not apologizing! If I had to do it again and it was the only option, I'd go unarmed and alone. I would've been shot if it meant saving you from that! Cyrus wants you dead!"

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you died because of me! Your kids need their mother! Cyrus wants you dead too and I'll be damned if I let it happen."

"So what, Jason, you'll do the noble thing and die instead of me? That'll kill me. I couldn't breathe when we thought you were dead last time. Imagine how I'd be if I knew I was the one who caused it!"

"You're not dying!" He shouts back, but there's no edge to his tone anymore. He's less pissed. "Not when it's preventable. You're not getting shot either Carly. If I cause your death, I'll hate myself."

"And you think I won't hate myself if I cause yours?"

To be continued after midnight bc I have thing to add to my blog

eeee

[iamdorka]

I Couldn't Be More In Love - part III

Colson and the reader have been friends since high school. “Friends”. Maybe they were more than that but before they never really spoke about it… and everything was okay until Colson started to act quite strange because the reader started to spend more and more time with his co-worker Harry Styles.

Part I

Part II

In the last couple of months I spent hella lot of time in the studio but I could not really compare nothing to the feeling what I felt when I recorded that particular song.

Maybe I needed to record it. Maybe it just cleaned my soul. It hurt me, but it felt so good.

Harry said that this might be the therapy I needed… and he was right. It wasn’t a composed song… everything just came from a really deep place… from my soul, from my heart. It wasn't planned... and maybe that was the reason why it was so... honest. Real.

"I think… I’m ready…" he stepped out from his fitting room after our photoshoot wearing already his chosen outfit for his birthday. The fact that he could pull off even a potato sack as much as Gucci was unbelievable. I think it was and still his superpower.

"That’s more than okay…. because I’m here waiting for the birthday boy." I stood up from my really comfortable chair and took his hand in mine. We decided that even if we had a long ass day we will celebrate his birthday with some friends in his house.

"You could have gone if you wanted…. " he said while we were walking to the car

"Oh yeah… that would have been such a good idea… turning up without the birthday boy. I think they would have killed me. They want you... Not me." I admitted.

I was really glad that we spent the last couple of hours doing some shoots and interviews because my makeup artist and hairdresser made me look kinda good so I didn’t have to worry to make something good out of my face alone… after that studio session I really needed some professional touch up… not just on my body but maybe on my soul too. sometimes I really think that these make-up artists in reality are wizards because they can do the impossible to happen.

"We thought that you would never really show up… " Matt Healy was the one who greeted Harry in the door.

"This perfection needs time to be made…" I pointed at Harry showing off his extravagant outfit which I was in love with.

"Y/N… Matt Healy… Matt Healy.. Y/N… your new lyricist love." Harry introduced me to his friend and I almost fainted hearing his words.

"Harry showed me some of your works… and Jesus Christ… when will you have free time for me? We have to work together… like ASAP." this kind of compliment was something I was never really dreaming of.

"Thank you… I think. And now, if you excuse me… I’m gonna hide somewhere where I can pass out for a bit…. because I was not expecting this… that’s for sure. Okay?" and I didn’t really try to hide my craziness I just needed some time alone… and maybe some alcohol in my blood too just to help me process everything.

"We can jam here too... We have everything here.... But mostly we need... us." I heard Harry and Matty chatting from the distance and I already started feeling excited but also relaxed. This space was my happy place, my friends were my happy place.

Just alone in the last year I met some really incredible and so talented people who I adore on a level what can’t really be explained with human words that I just gave up hiding my real feelings when I met them. I just really showed them how I felt then and there. Some people just deserved to be recognized and showed the love they can cause in the other's heart.

Maybe I was really overwhelmed by all the incredible people in the house that’s why I decided to go outside just for a minute, just for some fresh air… that’s when I saw a familiar car which wasn’t here when we arrived. Even if it was dark outside… I recognized that car… and then recognized the person who sat behind the wheel too… I just had to get closer.

How did he even get here? Why was he even here?

As I was getting closer and closer to him the heavy feeling inside my soul was getting more and more intense, but I just could not stop moving.

It was really Colson and he didn’t even notice me until I was right next to the car… because he was staring at his phone. When he saw me… I think he got scared a bit. He hesitated but then he started to let down the window but he didn't look at me.

It was clear that we hadn’t spoken in the last 24 hours. We could literally feel that. And there was a reason for that which was way more deeper than we thought before…. it was more than unspoken words. But my brain just could not function properly. Why? The answer was quite simply: I was afraid. To be honest… I was terrified.

"I bet you didn’t get back your license… so why are so driving around without it?" I just had to say something… no matter what but just some words... to melt the ice, to try to cover the awkwardness what we started to feel.

"Uuupps…" he admitted with an awkward smile. "You caught me…"

"I would be happier if you would take care of yourself… Mostly if you didn't try end up in jail... " I admitted and then somehow my hand just started to open the door because it was kinda frustrating that that thing was between us… and that he just didn’t really want to look at me properly. "How did you get here?" I asked him the right question.

"I don’t know… by car?" he answered and now I could smell his not so alcohol-free breath. His half ass joked didn't even reached my brain, I ignored it totally.

"I swear to God Colson… if you will drive like this again… I will kill you with my bare hands." I punched him in the chest, but he didn’t really care about it. He was there almost lifeless. "You really lost your mind…."

"And it seems I’m not the only one…. " he murmured then he touched his phone again so I could see what he was previously watching.

It was a recording of my last song in the studio… of THAT song.

"How… how did you get this?" my lips were trembling and when I wanted to reach out for his phone… he looked at me and our eyes finally met. I froze. My everything froze and I got paralyzed.

"The curly haired boy sent me this… with his adress." he let his phone fall to his lap while I was feeling that there were a storm coming for my body. I really thought that I was gonna pass out. My chest, my head, my body… every inch of me started aching intensely.

"I… I… I didn’t know about this…. He should not have..." I shook my head not really being able to form a proper sentence. I was shocked to say at least. The blood in my veins felt like ice cold water.

"Did you really write this for me?" he asked and when he did that I just had to lay to the door because if it would have not been there… I would have fallen. To move was something impossible for me. Maybe to exist was something even more impossible for me.

"For who else could have I written it?" I asked sarcastically maybe way too strongly.

"For anybody else… but not me… " and if something could hurt me… this was that something. If he would have said Harry’s name… I swear to God I would have buried him there and then in the garden.

"For God’s sake…" - I shook my head without even looking at him, without even breathing properly. "Why is that so imp…. " I wanted to say it out loud but before I could have finished my sentence, he brought me between his legs and his lips found mine.

First, I didn’t really know how to react so when he noticed this he thought that he made a mistake I made sure that he didn’t have to think that… not at all. Because after that first kiss… the second one was way more emotional.

That kiss had everything in it. The suffering of the last 24 hours, the tears from the studio, the lust I felt for him God knows since when. And maybe he felt something too because he sat back to the car pulling me on his lap as if it was the most natural thing to do.

I was holding his tired face between my fingers, I wanted to touch his soul as much as I wanted to touch every inch of his.

"Because I don’t deserve you… " he murmured to my lips when our forehead touched and needed some air to breathe. We tried to function properly, but it seemed that it was just not for us at the moment. "You are way too good for me… " he gently kissed my lips and while his words said one thing… his body said another thing.

" Can I decide that… ?" I asked then put my hands on the back of his neck staring at his ocean blue eyes which were shining so much that I just could not believe it. "I never really thought that… this would happen…never in a million years..." I bit my lips not really wanting to let him go. "Everything happens... so fast... "

"Yesterday… when you pulled that stunt on me… it took me so much strengths not to jump on you there and then and fuck the life out of you... " he admitted finally smiling a bit." … it was so hot that I just still can’t process it. I’m just so sorry that I was such an idiot… " and he said this I started to lay little, gentle kisses on his neck.

"A fact on what we can agree." I admitted getting closer to his ear, biting it a little bit. "But to be fair… the boys with a girlfriend never really were my type." I stated him referring to the well-known fact that Harry had a girlfriend which he didn’t really could process as it seemed before.

"I hope that he feels the same about this question too…" his hands just rested under my shirt, on my back, somehow they climbed there and I didn't really mind at all. His touch was calm... and much needed.

"Because am I your girlfriend now?" I asked him laying back a bit, looking at his face.

"I fucking hope so… because if not… this would be kinda awkward…" he admitted while my hands were already on his bare chest because my fingers just unbuttoned his shirt and while under my ass… I could really feel his real... thoughts. The undeniable lust.

"Ohhh… the saint has spoken…" I just had to laugh, I could not hold in, so I laid my head on his chest. "… I walked on you before in much worse situations… and then the girl wasn’t really your girlfriends to be honest…" I continued and just to torture him a bit I moved my hips just enough for him to notice.

"Psssst…. " he hid his face in my hair because he knew that he could have not say any bigger idiotness. "But you will be my girlfriend… won’t you?" he asked with real hope in his voice.

"I couldn’t be more in love…" I started murmur the song and I think with this I gave him my response.

"Okay… so now we can go in and tell this to everybody just to calm everybody’s soul down." he pointed to the house where was a real party going.

"Everybody’s or just yours?" I asked back furrowing my brows.

"Okay… let’s forget this. We just should go home..." he figured it out that this wasn’t his best idea yet. "But to be fair… the devil doesn’t really have a soul so..." he referred to himself.

"But if we talk about fairness... you really could say hi to the birthday boy…" it was the least he could do after this.

"But I already got the best gift ever? Maybe he would be jealous of me..." he squeezed my butt a little bit, but I still almost fell out of the car. His idiotness was next level.

"Jesus Christ Colson…" I almost burst into laughter while almost started to cry too. "… you should just shut up…"

"Maybe you should just help me with that…"

Tag list (tell me if You want to be on it) ♥

@no-shxt-sherl @kiss-yall @bakerkells @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @mgk-rooklover1997 @fake-me-out @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @southernmgkpunk @thegunnerkelly @lovemythsworld @painkillerash @rosesinmars

[lovelylogans]

where you lead, i will follow

previous chapter / chapter nine / next chapter

start from the beginning!

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: hospitals, needle/ivs, coughing, fever, sick stuff, pneumonia, arguing, classism, pregnancy scare (in a flashback), mentions of dysphoria, death mentions (only mentions, don’t worry!) please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: moxiety, logince

word count: 22,124

notes: hoo boy this chapter was a DOOZY and i’m v curious to know how it’s gonna go over, so, fingers crossed y’all like it!

virgil hates hospitals. well, arguably, patton hates them more, he always hates going to the doctor even if it's just for a check-up, but the fact that patton is alone back there and delirious and in a place he's afraid of without anyone who knows him to comfort him kind of makes virgil want to put his fist through a wall, so he doesn't think about that, and instead he keeps pacing this stupidly tiny waiting room, clutching his hoodie, not even putting it on properly, because he'd given it to patton when he started shivering and shaking and succumbing to his chills and not breathing a word of complaint about the cold he must have been feeling and virgil had given him his hoodie and patton had sniffled and looked at virgil like he'd made everything okay, so he can't put it on until everything's okay again. right? (it makes sense to him.)

he keeps thinking about patton. not even worrying about him, though there's plenty of that, but memories keep flashing through his head, and it's almost unbearable, to think about patton happy and healthy when the memory of patton lying on his face in his dark house is right there and virgil left him, he left him—

("i've figured it out," patton says triumphantly. he's twenty-two, and virgil's twenty-eight, and logan's freshly six, on his way to the diner to meet with patton after school, when he'll decide if he wants to stay and do homework at virgil's or go with patton to the inn.

"figured out what?" virgil asks, amused despite himself, seeing how smug and satisfied with himself patton is right now.

"The Hugging Problem," patton says, and his grin grows wider. "i've figured it out."

ah, yes. The Hugging Problem. it had been discussed between virgil and patton so often that it warranted the capital letters. The Hugging Problem was that logan had decided he was a big boy now, and didn't need hugs or comfort, even when he was upset and clearly really, really needed a hug and some comfort.

"you did?" virgil says, intrigued despite himself. "how?"

patton taps his finger to his lips, grinning. "that'd be telling."

"patton," virgil whines, "you can't just tell me you have a solution to The Hugging Problem and not tell me what it is—"

"well, i can't just tell you the solution to The Hugging Problem," patton says conspiratorially. "i'll show you. when he needs it.")

"virgil!"

virgil pivots, then, to see logan, in an exquisite, bespoke, expensive suit, rushing toward him, face drawn and tight and worried.

"is he—?"

virgil's already shaking his head, crossing his arms tight over his stomach. "no news. they took him back there to run some tests, or get the fever down, or both, but—"

logan's nodding, and then brushing past him, immediately, to the welcome desk, staffed by a nurse or at least a someone in scrubs.

"excuse me," logan says, voice threaded through with a sense of authority that reminds virgil so strongly of the first time he met emily sanders that it sends a chill up his spine, "my father's been admitted here, patton sanders, would you happen to have any information on him, a room number, maybe, or what tests are being run on him?"

the nurse checks something, glances at virgil (who'd filled out patton's paperwork when they'd gotten there, and he knows all of patton's insurance info because virgil helped him set his up back in the day and virgil's been his emergency contact since that time patton thought he had appendicitis but it was really just a terrible stomach ache because he got food poisoning from al's pancake world) and nods.

"i'll have someone check on that for you," she says, in the tone that means maybe, eventually.

"do," logan says tightly, and comes back toward virgil. virgil reaches out and carefully squeezes his shoulder. for some reason, he feels like something is missing. he dismisses that thought, because the something is probably behind the doors he's forbidden to cross into, it’s the something that he just left behind and he can't—

"hey," he says, and squeezes again. "look at me."

logan looks him in the eyes—tormented and worried and anxious in a way a kid never really should have to be, ever.

"your dad's gonna be fine," he says, trying to make his voice sound gentle, but with some kind of authority.

"you can't know—" logan begins, adam's apple bobbing.

"logan," virgil says, holds both his shoulders now. "look at me. i'm saying that. me, who always thinks every worse scenario is one thousand percent guaranteed to happen. i am. and patton's gonna be okay."

logan takes in a shuddering breath. "but—you're panicking."

"i'm always panicking," virgil says softly. "and i'm panicking right now because we don't know what's going on, not because i think there's any chance of something happening to your dad."

logan surveys him for a few seconds, eyes sweeping up and down his face, staring into his eyes, and virgil's expression must present the answer he's looking for because he relaxes, just a little, slumping into virgil's touch, and virgil knows better than to pull him into a hug right now so he just compensates by squeezing his shoulders a little harder before letting go. logan's arms cross in front of his stomach, too.

"not because i think anything's—going to go wrong," logan says, haltingly, "but... dad has a will, doesn't he?"

"yes," virgil says cautiously.

logan licks his lips nervously, before he says, "if something—if dad didn't—look. i'd want my guardian to be you."

virgil's arms drop from where they're wrapped around his stomach, and he turns to face logan more fully, mouth hanging open in awe, just a little.

"it has to be you," logan says. "if something happens."

"nothing's happening."

"i know," logan says, and he sounds like he really does know it, the way he knows nellie bly had her pencil confiscated from her in blackwell's and was told she never brought one, the way he knows anne royall blackmailed president adams into an interview by catching him skinny-dipping, the way he knows the new york times printed, the day after the launch of the apollo 11, a retraction of an article about no rocket conceivably leaving the atmosphere and reaching the moon. just fact. "just... so you know."

virgil swallows past the sudden lump in his throat.

(—dead on his feet, even as patton pushes a mug of (plain) coffee into his hands, leaning against the counter.

"thanks for helping me with him," patton says wearily. "i love him, he's so smart, he just gets so... nervous. you know?"

"i know," virgil says dryly, and patton winces a little. virgil waves it off. "and you don't need to say thank you, anyway, not when it comes to helping logan. i'll always try and help him. i know he's yours but—" barely a pause, and then, a sleepless tumble of a confession—"i always thought he was a little mine, too."

patton doesn't take offense. he just smiles, a secretive little thing, and takes a sip of coffee.

"well," patton says. "of course he's a little yours. you're a little ours too, you know.")

"yeah," virgil croaks, and clears his throat. "yeah, okay."

"good," logan says stiffly.

"right, good," virgil echoes.

they'd probably stand there saying "good" "good" back and forth and back and forth until a nurse finally appeared to wave them back into patton's room if it wasn't for the burst of noise a good way down the hall.

"but why can't i see him?!"

"they're running some tests."

"well, we would like to meet this doctor who's testing him."

"you will."

"some strange man is working on our son, we have a right to meet this person!"

"you will."

"and i want to see the room you're going to put him in."

"you will."

"and stop saying 'you will,' put together a proper sentence, for god's sake!"

"ma'am, sir, please just wait here."

—and a harried nurse leads emily and richard sanders into the waiting room.

oh. great. just what he needs. patton's fucking parents.

(—patton's eighteen, virgil's nearly twenty-four, and logan's nearly two, and patton has given logan over for virgil to babysit for a while with a written list of instructions and a packed bag, and virgil's only a little terrified, partially because logan's never spent the night at virgil's before without patton there and partially because logan is pre-emptively putting the terrible in 'terrible twos' and partially because patton got his top surgery today and he's being looked after by his parents, and virgil certainly has some Opinions after hearing about the way patton was raised and the environment that surrounded him until he ran away to sideshire.

everything's going fine until virgil realizes that logan's favorite jupiter toy isn't in the bag.

he has seen the meltdowns logan has without that thing. he needs to get it. he can only really hope that the room's empty and he can go right in, go right out, and logan will be reunited with his toy and no one will be any the wiser.

fucking alas.

he walks into the room juggling logan and the duffle bag and the spare key maria gave him, because patton had panickedly rented a room rather than let his parents have any idea about him living in the poolhouse, only to walk in to two very finely-dressed people turning from the bed where patton's lying to see the door.

"papapapapapapapapapa," logan babbles happily as soon as he sees patton, reaching out and opening and closing his chubby little fists, as if to say to virgil hand me over immediately! and virgil can't help but smile a little at the sound of it. logan's been doing this thing lately where he adds thirty more syllables to a word than is necessary, if he's excited about it. it's real cute.

"who are you?" demands the woman suspiciously, the woman who must be patton's mother. patton looks nothing like her. or the tall man with the tie on, who must be patton's father.

"virgil danes," virgil bites out. "i'm babysitting logan, just need to grab a toy of his, so. i'll be right out of your hair."

"oh, well, that's not necessary," emily says briskly, walking forward and holding out her arms expectantly. "we can look after him."

without thinking, virgil shifts so that he's more clearly between her and logan, so that she would have to step around him to grab logan. her eyes narrow.

"yeah, well, patton told me to watch him," virgil says. "so i'm gonna watch him."

"papa," logan says, and tugs at virgil's hoodie. "virgil, papa."

virgil winces. "i know, kid, sorry. he's taking a nap right now, okay? we gotta be quiet. shhhh."

logan frowns at him. if there is one thing he doesn't like (the things logan doesn't like are very numerous) it's being told to be quiet. which is fair, really, virgil doesn't like it much either.

virgil spies the jupiter toy, half-hidden under the wardrobe, and goes over to grab it, handing it over to logan, who takes it with a pacified, cheery little babble and immediately sticks it into his mouth. god, virgil dreads the day a toy won't work as a distraction for him anymore.

"don't be ridiculous," emily tells him. "he's our grandson."

"no offense, lady," virgil says, "but you could be the queen of england. patton told me to watch him, so i'm gonna watch him. end of story. besides, patton's going to be a handful medicine-wise and i don't particularly trust you very much anyway."

"i beg your pardon?!" richard says, flabbergasted.

"consider it begged," virgil says. "and to be perfectly honest, knowing you're patton's parents doesn't endear me to you, like, at all, knowing what i know, so."

"how dare you," emily snarls.

"yeah, i'll dare, because your son is one of the best people i've ever met, and you don't seem to understand that whatsoever—")

virgil's violently yanked from his reverie when emily starts up, again.

"my great-uncle founded this hospital! his portrait is hanging in the lobby, go look, it's right above the sign that says 'founder!'"

"holy shit," virgil says, and quickly steps between emily and the nurse that she's harassing. "i'm so sorry about her, seriously, you're doing a great job and any news whatsoever would be appreciated, please ignore her."

the nurse spares a look for emily, gives him a grateful look, and they hurry off.

"ignore me?!" she fumes. "ignore me?!"

"yeah," virgil says, pivoting, "i know you're pretty good at ignoring any of your kid's boundaries, but you also seem to like flooring over them without any regard for his welfare, so i'm sure treating people like they're actual people instead of like they're scum beneath your shoe is gonna be a great big moral dilemma for you. i'd say i live in hope that you'll let people be on their own, but you seem to have a lot of trouble letting people exist on their own terms, so."

oh shit. okay, so, he's started it. fuck. patton's gonna hate that.

"how dare you speak to my wife in that way," richard begins indignantly, puffing himself up like a bullfrog.

"yeah, i got plenty for you too, buddy," virgil begins heatedly, but he sees a flash of a brand new, costly suit, and forces himself to fucking cool it, jesus christ, "but that's not helping right now, none of this is helping, i get that i snapped and i'm a hypocrite, my bad, but can we put aside tearing each other apart the way i know we all want to until we know what's wrong with patton?"

virgil punctuates it with a very significant glance toward logan, who was not old enough to retain and remember the first round of this particular throwdown. emily seethes, richard glowers, but they cluster off together, in their own little corner.

emily reaches to make logan a part of that, make it sanders family vs random diner outsider, but quicker than a flash and slicker than oil, logan slips from her grasp and goes to stand at virgil's side. sideshire vs grandparents.

and suddenly, virgil's brain catches up to where logan's made the logical leap. patton has a will. he must have outlined who logan's guardian or guardians would be in case of his untimely demise. and since patton asks him whenever he involves virgil in anything legal—being made an emergency contact, for example—and he'd definitely ask virgil before penning him down for something so significant without so much as virgil's say-so.

and if virgil wouldn't be logan's guardian...

"and for god's sake, don't harass them for doing their jobs," virgil can't help but tack on, and turns to look away from—them.

("—virgil, did you, um?"

"yeah?" virgil asks, struggling to hand over logan, the duffle bag, and patton's to-go order of hot cocoa/coffee without spilling or dropping anything or anyone. logan's really mostly squirming to get back to his dad, anyway, and patton quickly takes him before he can squirm himself straight to the ground.

"i just," patton says, and frowns, shifting logan so he's on his hip. "i thought you came over when i was recovering. i dunno, it was probably an anesthesia dream, or something."

it wasn't, virgil thinks, but, well. what good would that do? he dressed down patton's parents, they tried to dress him down back, patton had cracked his eyes open enough to, in his drugged haze, coo at logan, who bopped him softly on the nose with a closed, slobbery fist, before virgil booked it before the sanders' shouting could wake patton up permanently. what good would it do to tell him all that? he'd hate that he was being argued over, anyway. so virgil just makes sure that everything's all handed over and doesn't say anything about it.

"you recovered all okay, then?" virgil says.

patton puffs himself up proudly. "yep," he says happily. "all cleared to work and lift logan," he tilts the hip with logan on it, trying not to wince, as logan has started tugging his hair, "as long as i'm careful about it."

virgil smiles. "good."

"it is, isn't it?" patton says, looking down at his own chest, finally flat without any help from a binder, and virgil reaches out to clap his shoulder. logan takes the opportunity to start babbling for attention at virgil, tugging his hoodie sleeve, as if virgil hasn't been waiting on logan's every whim for the past three days.

"lookin' good, man," virgil says, sincere, and patton beams at him. it just solidifies the belief virgil's had since the first night he met him: that patton's parents don't deserve him.)

"patton sanders?" a nurse calls, and, identically, all four of them advance on him.

"we've gotten the fever down to a point where seizures are less of a concern, but he's still pretty out of it," the nurse says, brusque. "he's in a test room right now, but we'll take him to his room shortly. we've run an x-ray and we're waiting on those results and some culture results before we—"

"pneumonia," logan says hollowly. "you think it's pneumonia."

virgil hadn't known what any of it could be, hadn't even remotely thought to prepare himself for it, but it still hits him like a blow to the chest.

("—they could give you some medicine to keep that fever down," virgil says. "make sure it isn't anything worse."

"virgil," patton says patiently, "it isn't anything worse."

"how do you know?"

"because i just feel sick, not like i'm at death's door," patton says, and sneezes into his kleenex. "crummy but not crumbling—")

i am literally never listening to your refusals about going to a doctor to see if it's anything worse ever again, virgil thinks, half furious, half scared-out-of-his-mind. left him, you left him, something in his brain hisses at him, accusatory, he’d left patton and now he’s in the hospital with fucking pneumonia—

"it's the most likely result, but it hasn't been confirmed yet," the nurse says. logan sways a little.

"can we see him?" virgil asks, putting his hand on logan's shoulder again, trying to steady him.

"we're still running a test, but once that's done—"

"well, can we see his room, then?" emily says. 

the nurse gestures them forward, and virgil's about to follow when logan swivels to face him, eyes wild.

"i need to do something," he says.

"do what?" virgil says stupidly.

"i don't know, anything," logan says, clearly about .05 seconds from tearing his hair out. "get coffee or make phone calls or do something that isn't just—standing here."

"okay," virgil says, getting it, a little. logan's not exactly patient, virgil's known this for years, and logan's about as well-suited to fretting as he is to smiling and demurring during a debate (that is, not at all.) "okay, um—you got your phone?" 

logan nods.

"call some people at the inn and let them know that patton's gonna be out sick for a bit. after that, get some—" he nearly says coffee but he takes stock of himself and how fast his heart's racing and also remembers half of patton's favorite drink and can't, "—tea, peppermint, preferably. and then go get a paper."

logan's brow creases in confusion, and virgil tries for a smile.

"every morning at breakfast, your dad's been complaining you're not there to interpret current events for him," virgil explains. "he likes it when you do that. maybe get something with a comic section, he likes those."

logan breathes, shoulders slumping a little with the relief of a series of set tasks. "okay. got it."

"right," virgil says. "i'll text you the room number as soon as i've got it, okay?"

logan nods, and sets off at a brisk pace down the hall, woe betide anyone who gets in his way.

virgil picks up the pace so he can catch up, and spots the nurse, who bustles after him, looking even more harried. 

"where's...?"

"your in-laws are currently seeing to it that your husband gets the room with the good view," she says, and virgil shakes himself.

"oh, he's not my—"

then something catches up to him and he realizes that if they think he's patton's husband, he'll have the same family visiting rights as the rest of them.

"—uh, i mean, sorry. yeah. how long until they bring him back?"

"very soon," she promises. "i can appreciate that this is hard for you, sir."

you have no idea, virgil thinks, catching onto what kind of wrath emily sanders might bring down upon this hospital if she realizes that the nurses think her son's married to someone without the right pedigree or a summer house by the coast or an aspiring career as a senator or something. 

"thanks so much for all your hard work," virgil says instead.

emily sweeps down the hall, nearly bowling over some poor man on a gurney.

"we've secured him the room but those pillows are completely unacceptable," she declares. "i'm going to see if i can find him some down ones and some slippers, richard is ensuring the room stays private—" she frowns, as if realizing he's the sole member of her audience right now. "where's logan?"

"he wanted to be useful, so he's going to get his dad a paper and call some people," virgil says. "is patton in the room yet?"

"they're bringing him back very soon, which is an incredible indefinite timespan," emily says. "i'll be back."

off she goes, and virgil thinks down pillows?! with only a slight amount of hysteria. he turns back to the nurse. "which room?"

"202," she says, and he texts logan the room number on the way there, and—

oh, huh. it does have a nice view, all lit up at night like this. there's no bed in the room, though, which virgil thinks is kinda weird, and richard's standing silently at the window, which virgil thinks is also kinda weird.

virgil coughs awkwardly to announce his presence.

"oh," richard says, "it's you."

"uh, yeah," virgil says.

"emily went to get pillows."

"i ran into her on the way here," virgil says, and offers, "logan went to get some tea and a paper, i can text him if you want coffee, or something."

"oh," richard says. "thank you, but no. that won't be necessary."

("—dad wants to take logan to some kind of take-your-kid-to-work-day thing next week, so i'm guessing we'll probably be in here for an early breakfast before i drop him off."

virgil spins patton's plate so that his untouched pile of leafy greens is now directly in front of him. he hopes that logan's eating whatever balanced meal isadora prince has decided to cook up for her son and his new bestest friend without too much complaint.

"what, seven’s just the right age to be introduced to the thrilling world of the insurance business?"

"i guess," patton says with a shrug. "i dunno, dad's always been very—" he adopts a sterner facial expression. "go to work, come home, read the paper, go to bed kinda guy. whereas i, you know. snuck out the window as soon as he was distracted."

virgil hands patton his fork. patton rolls his eyes and obligingly stabs his salad.

"he lives his life the way he thinks he's supposed to," patton says. "worked hard, bought a nice house, provided for my mom. very by-the-numbers guy and i've never been good at numbers. think it gave him the shock of a lifetime that i ended up, well. the way i am."

"but you get along with him better than your mom?"

"dad's disapproval tends to be a lot less shouty than mom's," patton says, with a little sigh. "but yeah, i guess i get along with him better than i get along with my mom.")

"your meatloaf was quite good."

virgil startles, grabbing for the hoodie he's tied around his waist like it's falling to cover for it.

"oh," virgil says, remembering logan's phone call that feels like a century ago. back when patton was healthy enough to pop by the diner and he was conscious and before virgil left him alone when he was sick. "um. thanks. i guess."

richard peers at him. "i know we've met before all this, but i can't quite recall when."

"uh," virgil says. "i mean, i egged your car."

("—oh. it's you."

virgil's spine stiffens, and he turns from where he's been handing over a coffee at the stall of the town-wide easter festival.

"yep," virgil says to emily and richard fucking sanders, who have parked their very fancy car right over there and have decided to come to his stall. "it's me. is there a particular reason you're here, or...?"

she sniffs. "patton said to meet him and logan by the gazebo." she gestures to the gazebo, just to the right of his stall, where the railings are lined with pastel wicker baskets of fresh-painted eggs are waiting to be hidden for all the kiddos to run after and hunt.

"right," virgil says. "well. i've got work to do, so."

"we can wait," richard says.

they wait for about a minute.

"so, you're still acquaintances with my son," emily says, and virgil scoffs without meaning to.

"if you mean we're best friends, sure," virgil says, stacking cups and wondering if he should send one of the part-timers back to the diner to get some more. "then i'm acquaintances with your son."

"don't you think that logan should have a," richard says, casts a discerning eye over virgil's stall, "a better role model?"

virgil, calmly, sets down his cups, and says, "what do you mean by that?"

"well, it's all well and good he comes by the diner sometimes," richard says. "but don't you think he, well."

"don't i think he what?" virgil asks, interlocking his fingers and calmly, calmly presses outward, cracking his knuckles.

"don't you think you might influence him to a, well," he says, "substandard way of life."

virgil's blood's roaring in his ears. "substandard," he repeats.

"well, patton's has done an all right job with him so far, but logan certainly has enough negative influence on that side of things," richard says.

"what, you think patton is a bad influence?" virgil asks disbelievingly.

"when it comes to certain delinquent behaviors, yes," richard says. "he has a history."

delinquent. virgil wants to grab him by his fancy bowtie and yank him close and and choke him, how could he possibly think that patton, whose idea of a fun past-time is walking rescue dogs at the local shelter, is a bad influence?

"so," virgil says, "let's get one thing straight. you know nothing about me, and you know nothing about the influence that patton has on logan, because logan's a good kid and patton is a good man."

virgil's eyes slide to the nearest pastel basket. almost as an afterthought, he snags the handle, which has a pretty ribbon woven around it.

"but you know what? you think i'm some kind of devil on logan's shoulder, pushing him to become a delinquent? i can show you fucking delinquent."

before he can even think, he has two of the eggs in his hands, and with an aim he didn't know he possessed, he lobs them both straight for their fancy, fancy car.

they smack and shatter against the windshield with a satisfying thwack. they aren't quite as messy as regular eggs, being hardboiled, but the paint smears, and the egg remnants litter the trunk of his car, and virgil can't help but laugh at the looks on their faces, and he grabs another egg and throws, and again, and again—

"cool!" logan shouts, from where he's emerged from the prince studio, roman in tow, and patton stares, slack-jawed, and it startles emily into wailing into action.

"richard—richard, stop him, richard—!")

"oh," richard says. "oh, dear me."

virgil's not sure what richard's going to say—i'll send you an old receipt for the cleaning, how did such a delinquent continue to be friends with my son, what kind of example are you setting for my grandson—when the door opens, and there's a rattle of wheels, and—

and there he is. there's patton.

the absence of a bed makes sense now, because they're wheeling him in on one—he's all tucked into too-white, too-starched sheets, with a feeble little blue fleecey thing tossed over the top. he's wearing one of those hospital shirts with the blue dots, and he has on an oxygen mask and an iv and one of those things that clamps down on his pointer finger, and he's—

"is he okay?"

virgil's somehow right beside the orderly, staring down at patton's face. when had he moved?

"he's out of it, right now," the orderly says patiently, "he'll be groggy when he wakes up."

"when's that going to happen?" virgil asks, voice a bit too high-pitched. "the tests? did the tests end up—?"

"the doctor's going to have to tell you that, i'm just the transport guy," the orderly demurs, parking patton's bed and checking on his iv and god, patton looks so pale, so small, the bags under eyes massive, his skin too pale for comfort with the only exception being the flush of his fever high in his cheeks, sweating, his his curls tousled and somehow flatter than usual.

"when's the doctor coming?" virgil asks, digging his fingernails into the hoodie at his waist to keep himself from reaching out and touching patton, from getting in the orderly's way.

"i'm not sure, but she'll come right to the room when she gets here," the orderly says, and, with one last check of patton's vitals, he's off, and virgil—

"i'm going to go find emily and logan and tell them he's here," richard says, and virgil just barely manages to tear his eyes away from patton's face to look at him.

richard looks—faint, he guesses, would be the right word. pale and unsettled and spooked, generally. virgil guesses he understands—if he had to see logan or roman in a hospital bed, he'd be pretty spooked, too.

and not in the way he likes to be spooked. not in the fun halloween way of spooking. the genuinely really fucking scary kind of spooked.

"right," virgil says, and turns back to patton's bed, staring at him. he wants to push his hair back. he wants to hold his hand. he wants—

"i'll, um, i'll be here."

you weren’t, the voice in his head rumbles, you weren’t here, you weren’t here, now look at him—

(and now we hit rewind to see what logan has been doing in the hospital. in a tv show this would be cut scenes, but this is a fic, so. you're getting it in a big chunk.)

logan, meanwhile, has skulked the halls of the hospital. he has been successful finding various newspapers with a funnies section (six separate editions, actually) and successful in finding virgil's tea, but it's—

well, it's the phone calls that are giving him trouble.

see, first he called michel, who's the... you know what, logan's not fully sure what michel does at the inn, he just knows that he's the one who presents dour disapproval to any troublemaking clients and employees who aren't quite up to snuff. he's the bad cop to patton's good cop. michel, unsurprisingly, does not answer. logan really doesn't know what he expected.

then he calls sookie st. james, who's the chef at the inn, and waits impatiently for her glad tidings of a good holiday and at her "how's it going?" he says "dad's in the hospital with pneumonia," and then he has to try to comfort her, which is... something he's Not Good At.

then he calls drella, the harpist, for most of the reason that drella is the only person at the inn scarier than michel, and somehow michel picks up her phone, which is something he doesn't want to contemplate, so he hangs up immediately.

and then...

"you've reached roman prince. i'm so very sorry that you're going to have to settle for my recorded dulcet tones, but leave a message and you'll get the live rendition soon."

"um, hey," logan says, wincing at the sound of his own voice. "i know that you're—that you're probably at the first show of the nutcracker. i nearly forgot that it's still thanksgiving. good luck on all that, by the way, not that you need it, i'm sure you're doing wonderfully. or, well, by the time you listen to this, i'm sure you did wonderfully, but, um, i—"

he takes in a deep breath, glances around to ensure the hallway behind him is still empty, and presses his forehead against the wall.

"dad's in the hospital," he says, and his voice wobbles, just a bit. "i—my dad's in the hospital, roman. they think it's pneumonia. virgil found him on the floor and he couldn't breathe and i just—" he forces himself to breathe.

"i just—dad's going to be back at the room any minute, but i haven't seen him, and i just. can't. so i'm calling people as an excuse not to. which is—foolish. i'm going to have to see him eventually. he'd be confused and upset if i just refused to see him. and it's foolish that i'm leaving you such a long message at all, but i just... i don't know. i don't know, roman."

i don't know what's happening, he doesn't say. i don't know what happened to him, it was a cold, i don't know what happened when he was unconscious, i don't know how he's going to recover, i didn't know until virgil called me, how could i have possibly not known?!

i need my best friend, he doesn't say. i need you. i want to hear your voice. 

what he does say is, "but, um. call me back, whenever you can? you can tell me all about the performance, and i... i don't know what i'll do."

i don't know what i'm doing right now, he thinks to himself in a kind of hiss. what benefit can come from this?!

"sorry," he blurts out. "i'm—apologies. i know you can't do anything about it. i—i'm going to hang up now. bye."

logan removes his head from the wall, "accidentally" spills virgil's tea, and goes to find him a new cup. as well as a snack. and maybe another newspaper.

just. just to be prepared.

(and now we're back to a hospital room where virgil's dragged a chair by patton's bedside, and sits hunched over and staring and worrying the sleeve of his still unworn hoodie between the fingers of one hand and holding patton's hand in the other, pressed against virgil's chest, and he waits and waits and waits to see if he'll wake up. patton doesn't do much more than wrinkle his nose and make soft snuffling noises in his sleep and try to knock off his oxygen mask.)

there's the sound of footsteps behind him, and virgil doesn't turn to look.

"has the doctor come yet?" richard asks.

"no, not yet," virgil says, squeezing patton's hand. they've never actually held hands before, he doesn't think. he wishes this was happening under a different circumstance. it's kind of funny and kind of terrible, when he thinks about how he's known patton for sixteen goddamn years and has only ever held his hand once. 

"richard, i've gotten joshua on the way," emily says, and then they fall into talking about joshua, who is—god, virgil doesn't know, some kind of family doctor or physician or something, but if this joshua dude is going to be able to help patton virgil is absolutely ten thousand percent for joshua getting here, go joshua, go rich people stuff, as long as patton recovers as quickly and painlessly as possible.

patton has fluid in his lungs right now. or something. virgil's not super clear on what pneumonia actually does, but he's pretty sure fluid in the lungs is part of it, and he does not want that for patton. he doesn’t want patton to be here, in a hospital bed, right now. he wants a time machine to be able to go back and slap himself for leaving patton when he was so clearly sick. 

virgil's fully resigned to whatever rich people nonsense has gotta happen for that to no longer be anything close to what's going on with patton's health. god, virgil should really learn more about this. which—

virgil turns enough to see patton's parents. emily has set two pillows on a counter, but they're standing close next to each other, still in their holiday best, and virgil feels absurdly out of place in his jeans and t-shirt and abandoned hoodie. he asks, "have either of you seen logan?"

they exchange looks—one of those Married Couple looks that is so clearly a conversation that no one else in the room can understand—and richard says, "i believe he was going to find some more newspapers."

something in virgil's brain wars with leaving patton alone with these people, the way it did fourteen years ago, or leaving him at all, when the last time virgil left him it turned out like this, but the same thing wins out that won then. the same someone, really. 

he clears his throat, getting to his feet. he squeezes patton's hand, hard, before carefully lying it back down on the mattress.

"i'll get him," virgil says. "just—let me know if there's any change. text logan or something."

"right," emily says, and virgil walks out of the room, trying his hardest not to glance back at him over his shoulder.

he doesn't succeed.

...

patton's nose. has something. on it. he snuffles experimentally and when that doesn't move it, he reaches to move it himself.

"oh, for heaven's sake," a familiar voice tuts, and a hand closes around his wrist. 

patton blinks, and narrows his eyes. ugh, it's so bright. 

wait. it definitely hadn't been bright the last place he'd been. he'd been... home. hadn't he? he'd been home. he'd been hot and it had hurt and he'd wanted hot chocolate and he'd been home. and he's not now. so where is he? 

he tunes in with the rest of his body, then. head like a bowling ball, chest like a whole rack of bowling balls is resting on it, thoughts... for some reason not really able to keep a thread. or keeping too much of a thread. bowling balls. weird. he's so sweaty and uncomfortable that he figures he'll give himself a bit of a pass on making much sense, though. it's probably the cold medicine. oh, a cold shower sounded wonderful, get him all nice and cooled down and get rid of all this sweat and—

ugh, he's so... icky.

"oh," the voice says, startled, "oh, richard, he's waking up!"

and patton swivels his head a little to squint at where his mother is standing, his father bustling in to stand beside her.

"where?" patton rasps at his parents, and his mother sits on the edge of his bed, wide-eyed.

"you're at st. luke's," his mother says. "joshua's on his way, so is the doctor here, and dr. reynolds, you remember her."

gosh, joshua plus dr. reynolds plus the hospital for a cough? that seems kinda excessive.

"mkay," patton murmurs, and closes his eyes again.

"patton, do you think you can lift your head at all?" his mother asks. "i found you some decent pillows. they're not down, but they at least give a little."

ooh, pillows. patton likes pillows. virgil keeps joking that he collects them. virgil doesn't understand interior design. they give pops of color.

there's a cool, moisturized hand at the nape of his neck, though, urging him up, and ouch that rack of bowling balls on his chest, before he's settled back onto the nice new cool pillow.

"better, yes?" his mother asks, and patton hums sleepily. he's ready to go back to sleep. sleep sounds awesome.

"and one more time."

ouch oh ooh nice.

"now if we could just find you some different sheets," his mom says.

oh. these sheets are kinda nice, though. a bit stiff but not bad. he doesn't wanna move. and if she gets him new sheets he's gonna have to move.

"s'okay, mom," patton murmurs.

"maybe you could get dava to bring some from home," his dad suggests.

"s'really okay," patton says. 

"oh, of course," emily says. "why didn't i think of that?"

"don't need new sheets," patton tries to insist.

"they're completely unacceptable," emily says.

oh, now she's done it, patton's gotta open his eyes now.

"the sheets are fine," patton says, a little louder, or he tries to, because he breaks down into coughs when he says fine, harsh and loud, and patton tries to sit up or curl on his side but that same cool hand's at his shoulder, fluttering nervously, before he sucks in a breath and there's that pain in his chest that's been there for the past—however long?—and patton tries to catch his breath.

"—call button must be broken or something—"

"m'okay," patton wheezes.

"don't be ridiculous," richard says.

"i'm not," patton says. "m'an adult, i can handle it."

"it's the fever talking," emily says. "they really don't have that down, whatever that nurse said, feel how warm he is."

a different but still-cool hand, dry and wrinkled, rests on his forehead.

"i don't have a fever," patton sulks.

"you were at risk for seizures," his father says.

sounds fake, but okay.

"i really am okay," patton murmurs, eyes slipping shut again.

"no," emily tells him. "no, you are not."

"i'm fine," patton says, and yawns. "you can go home, you don't have to deal with me anymore."

there's a silence but it doesn't feel like the end of a conversation. patton doesn't wanna open his eyes again, though. he's so tired. but he can't go to sleep yet. but he really wants to. so he'll just let his eyelids rest. that'll work. right? he'll just keep his eyes nice and closed and explain it and they can get on home. 

"fine?" his mother repeats, strangled.

"it's just a cold," patton mumbles.

she sighs, irritated. "patton—"

"know we fought last week," patton says, trying to talk as loud as he can without risking a cough, or without having to breathe too deep. "and m'sorry i made life so hard on you then, n'm'sorry i'm such a disappointment, an' i'm'sorry i took logan away, an'—"

"oh, patton, hush," his mother says, sounding a little strange. "it's hardly the time for all—"

"and i'm sorry, okay," patton insists, cracking his eyes open, because that's important, "m'sorry i can't fix it. but m'an adult now and i can handle things and stuff. so you don't gotta stay jus' for a cold."

"young man, you have pneumonia," his father says gruffly.

"oh," patton says, startled. "do i?"

"well, we're waiting for the doctor to confirm it."

"oh," patton repeats, quiet. pneumonia. that's not good. that's always the illness that kills people in old timey books. that's the illness that they always look out for when things go bad for old people. that's... that sounds serious. really serious.

that's scary.

"patton?" his mother asks, sounding slightly alarmed, and patton tries to inhale a shaky breath, and then another one. he might be panicking, he thinks. 

"i—" he swallows, hard, and says, "is logan okay?"

"what?" she asks, distracted. "yes, of course. he's getting some newspapers and some tea."

"are you sure?" he asks, because logan has to be okay—logan has to be okay. logan's got to be taken care of, he has to be okay.

"yes, of course i'm sure," she says.

"you have to make sure he's going to be okay," he insists.

"he's fine."

"logan's—logan always acts fine, that's his default state," patton says. "but he always hides his emotions. so he'll always get snappy, and sometimes you just have to let him let off steam, and sometimes you kind of have to poke him into it, but after he rants for a while it helps calm him down enough that he can talk about what's really bothering him and—"

"patton," she says, awkwardly, a little helplessly, and patton swallows hard.

"he always overworks himself," he tells her intently. "so you gotta lure him out with new books, or an opportunity to shred the courant or just a newspaper or a publication in general, or a trip to a planetarium or a museum, preferably a science one but if he goes with roman he likes art ones too, or you gotta sit him down with a crofter's jam sandwich and tell him to take a break, because he always ignores it if he needs a break, because he thinks he's a lean mean study machine who doesn't need to do fun things, but he does, because he's—"

"patton, you don't need to tell us all this—" his father tries to intercede.

he ignores him. they need to know these things about him, in case patton isn't in a place to take care of him, they need to be able to take care of him. 

"—i know that you know logan pretty well, especially over the past couple months, but i think that virgil's the best source on all things logan, especially if he's ever confusing or if he's moping or needs anything, so if you're ever lost, and i know you've had your differences, but virgil knows logan just about better than anyone else, except me, and virgil's always happy to help logan, and sometimes logan just needs to talk to someone who isn't related to him so he'll usually go to virgil or roman and that's a-okay, because they're his best friends, and you have to make sure that he gets to stay in contact with them because i never ever want logan to feel lonely or unloved, never ever ever, and if i die—"

"patton, stop!" she snaps, and patton shuts his mouth, immediate, shrinking into his pillows as she looms over his bed.

"now," she says, "there may be many things happening in this hospital tonight, but your dying is not one of them, am i clear?!"

"i—"

"no!" she snarls. "i did not sign onto your dying when i became your mother, so it is not going to happen. not tonight, not for a very long time. i demand to go first. of all the things you have done to us, you will not put us through burying you first, do i make myself clear?"

patton stares up at his mom, and oh. oh, this isn't just scary for him. this is scary for all of them. and patton freaking out isn't helping things.

"okay," he says, very quiet. "okay, mom. i promise i won't die."

she nods, swallows. "good."

patton reaches over and, hesitantly, takes her hand. her free hand flutters up to her mouth, and his mom looks like she's about to cry, and patton squeezes a little, and closes his eyes. things drop off and go a little dark and blurry around the edges before everything goes dark and blurry and—

...

this hospital is a maze, but it doesn't take him nearly as long as he thought it would to find a mostly-empty hall containing just who he's looking for.

"hey," virgil says, coming to a stop next to him, and logan shudders out of whatever train of thought he'd locked himself into.

"hi," logan says, and passes over a to-go cup. "tea. peppermint, even. i found some newspapers and i called sookie. well, i called michel too, but he didn't answer, and then i called drella, and then michel answered. did you know that was—?"

virgil's already reflexively pulling a face.

"thought not," logan murmurs. not quite as smugly as he might be on a normal day after figuring out some kind of secret.

"okay," virgil says. "well, thanks. they brought your dad back and a doctor's due at any minute."

logan nods. virgil hesitates, before he fiddles with the little heat-protecting cardboard ring on the cup for something to do with his hands.

("—hate doctors, hate them, hate them, hate them," patton says, pulling a face.

"i'm the one going to a doctor," eight-year-old logan eludicates. "and it's just a check-up."

"and i have hated going to all of your check-ups since the time you were born," patton says, ruffling his hair.

"he has," virgil says dryly. "i've heard this series of complaints since your six-week check-up. eat your eggs." 

"tell him he could just wait in the waiting room," logan says, but he spears some eggs on his fork anyway. "i keep telling him to stay in the waiting room."

patton looks aghast. "and miss any health updates?!"

"but you hate the doctor," logan says. "wouldn't it be better if you just... didn't? since all of that scares you?"

"me being scared isn't the point," patton says. "it's about me being there for you."

"you don't need to be," logan says.

"yeah, but i want to be," patton says. "that's what a dad does—")

"you can't avoid going in the room forever," he says gently, and logan rears back.

"i'm not," he says.

"it's okay to be a bit freaked out right now—"

"i'm not."

"logan," virgil says, keeping his voice gentle and soft and calm. 

logan slumps. just a little.

"thank you for getting tea and making those calls and getting all those newspapers," virgil says, making his voice keep the same tone. "but your dad's in the room now and the doctor's due any minute. i know it'll probably make you feel a bit more at ease to hear what's going on. right?"

logan hesitates, before he nods.

"okay," virgil says. "so. if you really really want, you can wait outside the room until the doctor gets here. we just want to know where you are."

logan nods, and then he follows virgil back, where he comes to a stop just by the door.

("—not scared," twelve-year-old logan sulks at the counter of the diner. "honestly. me, scared."

"well," virgil says, leaning forward on his elbows, "it'd be okay if you were scared of snakes, you know."

"roman's not scared of snakes," he says. "it's not about me being scared, anyway, it's about—"

"why are we talking about snakes?" patton asks, sitting back down in his counter chair.

"tell your son it's okay to be afraid of snakes," virgil says.

"it's not about me being scared, which i'm not," logan says. "i just don't want to hold a massive boa constrictor on the field trip."

"and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do," patton says firmly. "if a teacher bugs you about it at the zoo tomorrow, you tell them i said that—")

"you sure?" virgil checks, and logan only holds out a pile of newspapers for virgil to take in.

he sighs but takes them and goes in, to where emily is sitting on the bed and caressing back patton's hair with—

it shouldn't shock virgil that she's doing it with maternal fondness. patton is her son, after all, but after all these years of seeing their fighting and patton falling apart after each of them, it feels like... virgil doesn't know. it feels like she should be just as stern and cold now as virgil knows she can be.

"he woke up," richard says, and virgil's eyes snap to him, and to the now-definitely-unconscious patton. "just for a little while."

"was he—" virgil struggles to find words. of course something happened when virgil left. of course. but at least this one seems to be a good thing.

"not quite lucid," richard says.

"a bit more lucid than we'd like him to be, you mean," emily says archly, and turns to frown at virgil. "where's logan?"

"just outside," virgil says. "keeping an eye out for the—"

"—but he's going to be here for how long?" logan asks a doctor who comes in with a short little man in a suit, and virgil can't help but take a step closer. 

"well," the doctor says to the room at large. "the cultures we took and his chest x-ray came back, and i'm afraid that it is pneumonia. he'll have to stay at the hospital for a couple days to ensure that fever stays down and to get him started on some antibiotics."

"how long?" logan repeats.

"difficult to say at this point," she says. "two or three days, at least, maybe longer if it's necessary. but," she says, and turns to virgil. "i believe you managed to catch him before his condition could have gotten much worse. you certainly brought him in before the fever could do any permanent damage."

virgil does not feel like this is particularly praise-worthy. it had mostly just been a terrifying experience. if virgil hadn’t left patton never would have gotten to this state at all.

"but he'll be just fine," the doctor says. "i'm sure it was a bit of a scare, but once he gets started on antibiotics, he'll be okay."

it's like the whole room breathes a sigh of relief.

"now," the doctor says, "i hear he woke up?"

"a little while ago," emily says, and moves aside a little so the doctor can get a closer look at patton. "he went right back to sleep, though."

"that'll be common," she says. "he'll be in and out of sleep, at varying levels of lucidity—"

virgil sees the flash of a bespoke, expensive suit jacket flutter around the door frame.

("—logan," virgil gasps, and scoops him up into his arms. "oh, my god, we were worried sick about you, you can't just run off like that, buddy—"

logan blinks too-big, watery three-year-old eyes up at him, clutching at virgil's shirt contentedly. "didn't run off."

"yeah, okay, nice try, kid," virgil says, trying to hug him close without looking like he was hugging him close. god, that had been the most terrifying five minutes of his whole life. "when we tell you to stay somewhere and you do not stay in that somewhere, that's running off."

"didn't," logan insists, kicking his bare feet. "i was following—"

"logan!" patton shout-sobs, and rushes over, and before virgil can even make a move to hand him over patton crashes into them both, hugging logan between their bodies, hugging virgil by extension, and—

"oh, my god, honey, you can't do that," patton says, semi-hysterically, pushing logan's hair back from his forehead so he could lean in and kiss him on the forehead. "i was so scared something happened to you, you can't just run away like that!"

"didn't!" logan insists again. "i was following a star bug!"

"star bug?" virgil mouths at patton.

"logan," patton says, high-pitched, "if you want to go follow the fireflies, you gotta tell one of us, okay? something could have happened to you!"

"nothing woulda happened," logan says, and, with all the belief of a three-year-old, "virgil was lookin' after me, i was okay the whole time."

patton lets out a sigh, one of the we're not done talking about this but i'll accept it for now ones, and presses his lips against logan's head again, looking up at virgil as he did, and virgil tries to pretend like logan's absolute faith in him hasn't moved him to the core—)

logan's slumped against a wall, hand over his eyes.

"hey," virgil says, soft, and logan sniffs, standing up straight, trying to pretend like he wasn't five seconds from starting to cry.

"so, um, he's gonna be okay."

"yeah," logan says, and swallows hard, fiddling with his fancy new suit coat.

"they're gonna keep him for a couple days, but he's gonna be fine."

"yeah," logan repeats.

an idea occurs to virgil. a really fucking stupid idea.

("—you might have to see The Hugging Solution put into action today," patton says grimly.

"oh, god," virgil says, freezing and turning from where he's wiping down one of the booth tables. "what happened?!"

"apparently logan found out about the library of alexandria today at school," patton says, "and mrs. donnely called to tell me logan was really upset about it."

"how does a six-year-old even find out about—?!"

"picture book, i guess," patton says with a helpless little shrug. "but, just—play along, okay?"

"uh, okay?" virgil says, but then the door opens and a familiar tiny boy sulks his way to the booth, lip trapped under teeth, probably to keep it from trembling, and eyes watery.

another familiar tiny boy has followed after him, loyally toting two pairs of backpacks.

"hello, mister prince," virgil says, snatching both backpacks and setting them by patton in the booth, where—patton has slumped over, and he lets out an overexaggerated, sad sigh, staring forlornly at the grilled cheese he'd been eagerly eating thirty seconds ago.

"i'm supposta go home," roman says, "but logan was really sad boutta book so i decided to walk him here!"

"well, that's really nice of you," virgil says seriously. 

roman puffs up his small chest. "m'bein—shiv-all—shiv-all-rus!"

"wow," virgil says, trying not to laugh. "that's really cool of you, roman. do you want an after-school snack?"

"please!" roman sings, and patton helps lift him into the booth so he's opposite logan, and then sits back down with another long, sad sigh.

"how about you, logan?" virgil asks.

"no," logan sulks in the corner.

"not even a crofter's sandwich?" virgil cajoles.

logan wavers.

"tell you what," virgil says. "i'll make one for you, and one for roman, and if you decide you don't want it, i can send it home with your dad for later, yeah?"

"...fine," logan says, arms crossed, still staring at the wall. patton, mimicking him, crosses his arms and stares at the wall, too.

"i'll let your mom know you're on the way in a bit, roman," virgil says, and reaches out to ruffle his hair mostly because of the tiny squawk of indignation when he does.

by the time virgil comes out with two plates of crofter's sandwiches, patton has progressed to sniffling with his head down on the table, roman petting his hair, and logan looking grudgingly curious from where he's still sitting with his arms crossed.

"okay, i've got two crofter's sandwiches here," virgil starts, but roman looks up at him.

"leave us alone, can't you see he's having a day," roman scolds.

"where'd you learn that?" virgil says, bemused, and roman grins.

"mrs. torres," he says—one of the old women who frequents the studio for sunrise yoga. "did i do it right?"

"you'd do her proud," virgil says, and remembers patton's play along, and pats patton's hair, too. "i know. he's been very sad since he got here."

logan's arms loosen. just a little. "he has?"

"he has," virgil confirms, somber as the grave. 

"oh," logan says.

"mr. patton," roman says, still petting his hair, "is there anything we can do?"

"oh," patton says, and affects a mopey look on his face when he lifts his head from his arms. "well... mayy-be. but i don't know if you three would want to."

"we'll do it!" roman declares immediately.

patton sighs, and shakes his head.

"i dunno, it might be a little silly."

"well," virgil says, a little louder, conscious of how logan's staring, "i think a little silly's okay, if it makes you not as sad."

patton nods, and slides out of the booth.

"virgil," he says, and spreads his arms. "can i have a hug? to make me feel better?"

all at once, patton's plan coalesces in virgil's head.

"oh, yeah, sure thing," virgil says, when he realizes he hesitated a moment too long. he opens his arms. "get in here."

patton steps forward, and virgil wraps his arms around him, a little awkwardly—but patton's warm and soft and he fits neatly against virgil, and he smells nice, so it's not like it's the worst hug he's ever gotten. pretty far from it, actually.

he steps back, and pats patton on the shoulder, for good measure.

"did that help?" virgil asks.

"i think so," patton says, and turns. "i might need another—"

patton is very nearly tackled to the floor by a pint-sized blur of white and red and gold.

"isthishelpingmisterpatton?!" roman demands, and patton lets out a little "oof, gosh, you're so strong!"

roman squeezes patton harder, as if squeezing hard enough will get rid of all the sadness in the world.

patton pats him on the shoulder, and says, "that was very helpful, thank you. you should eat your crofter's as a reward."

"okay!" roman says brightly, and clambers back up into the booth.

patton crouches in front of the booth where logan's dropped his crossed arms at last, but is biting his lip even more ferociously.

"can i have a hug?" patton asks him gently.

"you've gotten two," logan sniffs.

"yeah, but i haven't gotten any from my favorite son, yet."

"i'm your only son."

"that too," patton says, and spreads his arms. "so? i'm feeling very upset, and i'd really like it if you gave me a hug right now."

logan hesitates, eyes darting to where roman is stuffing his face and to where virgil is standing. "this is a hug for you," he declares imperiously.

"of course it is," patton says, and as soon as he says it, logan squirms off the booth and straight into patton's arms, wrapping his arms tight around patton's neck and burying his face into patton's shoulder.

"hey, there we go," patton murmurs, shifting a little, and when he's sure roman isn't looking, he winks at virgil, who suppresses his smile the best he can and—)

so it's a stupid idea, but it's the only one he has.

virgil heaves a sigh, and resigns himself to looking like an idiot.

"i'm feeling very upset," virgil says stiffly, and lifts his arms a little. "i'd really like it if someone gave me a hug right now."

logan sends him the world's most withering glare. the effect is slightly spoiled by the way he sniffs, smears his hand under his nose, and looks away.

"i'm not six anymore," logan says, and redirects his glare at virgil. "that won't work on me."

"look, kid, this hug isn't for your benefit," virgil says, lying through his goddamn teeth. "i have had a hard day. i had a big family gathering and then i had to drive home for hours and then i found your dad unconscious on the ground and had to bring him to the hospital, plus i've had to deal with your grandparents. so."

he lifts his arms higher. "i am upset. i would like a hug."

"you're way worse at this than dad is," logan says.

"yeah, i know," virgil says, "you know one way to put us both out of this misery?"

"are you seriously trying to embarrass me into hugging you?"

"i can keep going," virgil bluffs immediately, even though logan knows full well about this social anxiety. 

logan sighs, loudly. "fine," he grumbles. "fine, if it'll get you to stop."

so virgil steps forward and wraps his arms around the kid, heart panging—when did he get so big? virgil used to be able to practically hold him in one arm, just the space between his hand and his elbow. and now there's this young man, all gawky and gangly and still growing somehow, it's like he looked down and looked up and there he was, sixteen years flown by, except not really, because time was long, but also kind of really? being a parent person who watches a kid grows up is confusing.

he keeps rubbing a hand up and down logan's back, the way patton does when he hugs people. he's picked up a lot of things from patton, over the years. he couldn't say how many.

"he's going to be fine," logan says, and oh, god, his voice wobbles. 

"i know," virgil whispers, and keeps rubbing a hand up and down his back. "hey, i know. i promised he would be, and now we know for a fact he is, right?"

"right," logan says, and sniffs, loudly, and virgil holds onto him tighter.

"it's okay," virgil murmurs. "it's okay, logan. it's okay."

it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, virgil says, choking up himself, vision blurry and then failing as he gives in to the hectic emotion of this whole day, but he keeps talking to logan, and he keeps saying it’s okay, logan, it’s okay and loses track of the amount of times he says it, it's okay, logan, and logan's shoulders shudder and virgil feels his shirt soak through. 

"it's okay," virgil murmurs, sniffs, and keeps running his hand across logan's back. "there we go, l, it's okay."

"don't tell him," logan sobs into his shirt.

"oh, hey, i'd never," virgil says, as soft and comforting as he can. "patton can't know that we both lost it when he was out of the picture for one second, so it's our secret, yeah?"

"yeah," logan gasps, and draws back, smearing a sleeve under his nose, sniffing one last time. "yeah. our secret."

"okay," virgil says, and reaches forward with both hands to frame logan's ever-sharpening cheekbones in his hands, losing all that baby fat he'd been born with, swiping the tears off his face before starting in on his own face. "you okay?"

"yeah."

"you sure?" virgil checks, dropping his hands to logan's shoulders.

"yeah," logan says, and swallows, following the tracks of virgil's thumbs with his own hands, as if to make sure that virgil hasn't missed any. "yeah, i'm okay, i'm good. do i look like i've been crying?"

"nah," virgil says. “do i?”

"no. i don't want anyone to know i—"

"hey, our secret," virgil says.

(there is an eavesdropped neither logan or virgil notice. emily sanders frowns.)

"right," logan says, and scrubs at his face one last time. "this week has sucked."

if it was any other day, virgil would have laughed. logan hasn't used the phrase 'this sucks' since he was about nine. as it stands, though—

"yeah," virgil says. "i mean, your dad told me something really smart once, wanna hear it?"

"i have a feeling you'll tell me anyway," logan says, a solid attempt at a joke.

"even though today—or this week, i guess, in your case—has sucked, you wanna know the bright side?" virgil says, remembering patton's words from sixteen years ago, on the night they met. "i'll never have to do today again."

logan breathes, and says, "i never want to stay with them for that long ever again."

"i know," virgil says.

"i hated it there," he says.

(emily flinches.)

"i know," virgil says. "hey, we can tell your dad about the will thing once he's up and at 'em again, if it makes you feel better."

"it would," logan says fervently. "i fully understand why dad ran away now. you can't—you can't let me stay there anymore, virgil."

(emily flinches harder.)

"i won't," virgil says. "i promise, i won't. i mean, i know your dad only did it because it was a last resort kind of situation—"

"i know that too," logan says, and then, quieter, more miserably, "i yelled at him about it."

all virgil can say to that is "aw, kid," and tug him back into the hug.

"i yelled at him," logan repeats, voice waterclogged, like he's about to start crying again. 

"hey, i know he's not mad at you," virgil says. "he gets it, you know? he gets that you yelled because you were upset at the situation, not at him. i bet as soon as we walk in there, it's gonna make his day that you're there."

logan snuffles, and virgil draws back so that he can look him in the face. "really?"

"really," virgil promises, and he's been promising logan a lot tonight, but the kid deserves some promises that things would be okay, okay, his dad's in the hospital, because virgil left him alone, it’s the least he can do to help the kid feel better. "you know your dad, he's the softest little puffball we got."

logan snort-laughs, snotty and kind of gross, and wipes under his eyes again. "yeah. yeah, he is."

"you're, like, his whole world."

logan shifts, uncomfortable with so many displays of emotion in such a close time span, but he's saved by his grandfather.

"oh, he's waking up," virgil hears richard say, startled, and virgil claps logan's shoulder.

"you ready?"

logan lets out a shaky breath, straightens his tie, and tilts up his chin—proud, confident, a little arrogant. looking a bit more like himself, then, virgil thinks, relieved. he gestures logan to go ahead of him, and they enter the room to see patton, who turns at the sound of the door opening, and patton—

patton lights up.

his face brightens, his dimples appear in full, he beams—hey, wait, was he supposed to take off the oxygen mask?—and he reaches out both hands for logan, as if logan's still little enough that patton can pick him up.

"hey!" he says. "oh, my gosh, hi!"

"hi, dad," logan says, approaching the bed, and patton's smile doesn't falter as logan takes one of his hands, hovering at his bedside. 

"can i get a hug?" patton asks. "just this once."

logan hesitates. "if i hug you, won't it hurt?"

"what's life without a bit of pain?" patton jokes, and then, more seriously, "as long as you're gentle, it'll be okay, kiddo."

logan hesitates, and then, stiffly, bends so that he gives patton the softest, least-squeezy hug he can possibly execute, before sitting at patton's bedside again. 

"i've missed you," patton says, picking up logan's hand to squeeze it again, "so much."

logan's lip quirks up, just a little, and virgil's heart feels lighter, seeing two of the people he loves most in the world all together again—all that's missing is an obnoxious teenage dance instructor.

"i missed you too, dad," logan says.

patton's smile is blinding, and virgil's knees go a little weak, to the point where he sits in the chair next to logan. 

"okay, so," patton says, and pats logan's hand. "me and virgil have been dying without you to tell us everything that's going on in the world every day, let me tell you, dying."

logan's lips twitch. "don't exaggerate," he scolds.

"we aren't," virgil said. "i told you he'd want to hear you talk about current events, that's why i had you get all those newspapers."

logan rolls his eyes, and patton smiles at him, like logan's done something very charming and sweet instead of just made the quintessential teenage facial expression, and virgil can't help but smile a little, too.

"so," patton says. "tell us all about it. tell us about the news, and about your last couple days at chilton before the break, and how your week's been going, i want to hear everything."

so they listen as logan sticks to the safe and relatively unemotional topic of the news, explaining every headline he can, fishing example articles out of his newspaper pile when he has to, nearly crawling onto the bed in order to fully show the articles to patton. it reminds virgil of when he was little, so eager to investigate the whole world, so eager to show it off to anyone who would listen.

patton, even listening as raptly as he is, is still very sick, so can't help but slip off a little. which means that every time logan will trail off experimentally, staring to see if his dad's falling asleep, patton will start and grumble "m'wake, i'm awake, keep goin', i'm paying attention," and virgil will exchange a look with logan and logan will keep going until patton starts nodding off again.

eventually, logan keeps talking, and talking, and talking, even as he notices patton slip deeper and deeper into sleep until—

"i think he's finally asleep," logan says, hushed.

"i think you're right," virgil says. "good work, kid."

"speaking of sleep," richard says, "perhaps we should consider getting home."

"well, i'm not leaving," emily and virgil say in unison, who both jump and glare at each other.

"me either," logan says.

"you need sleep, you're a teenager, you need more sleep than a baby," virgil says.

"that's actually inaccurate," logan begins.

"okay, well, you still need to sleep," virgil says, frowning. "you should go home, to sideshire."

logan brightens at that, just a little.

what ensues is a solid bickering session: on if logan should go home to sideshire or back to his grandparent's house, on if virgil or emily should stay, on who would take which car and on who would bring logan back to visit if he wanted, and eventually it settled out to—

"bye, virgil," logan says. "thanks for looking after him."

"always do," virgil says. "i texted sarah, she's opening tomorrow, but would you mind swinging by the diner to let people know, just in case?"

"of course," logan says. "i'll even pick up breakfast there before i visit tomorrow."

virgil nods, and gives logan a hug goodnight, just because. 

"you're sure you'll be all right?" richard's asking emily, in the background.

"i'll be fine," she says.

"you can call if you'd like me to come back, or if you need something."

"go," emily says, and kisses her husband on the cheek. "i'll look after patton."

richard smiles, squeezes her shoulder, and then logan and richard are gone.

an incredibly awkward silence descends on the hospital room.

emily sniffs, and drags one of the chairs to the opposite side of patton's bed. virgil settles into his—he notes, with slight relief, that his side does not show patton's iv.

"you don't trust me with my own son," she says, coldly, and virgil crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"was i too subtle, the first time?" he deadpans. 

she sniffs again, and sits up even straighter, looking away from him. for a second, he thinks that might be the end of it, and they'll sit quietly in awkward silence until one of them falls asleep or the sun has risen. 

of course not.

"i don't know what gives you the right—"

virgil sighs, loudly, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"oh, my god, okay," virgil says, and leans back in his chair again, worrying his hoodie between his fingers. "there are so many goddamn reasons i don't like you. i have a list in my head that's been sixteen years in the making. do you seriously want me to spend the whole night going through it?" 

she arches a brow at him. that is literally all it takes.

"fine," virgil says. "i don't like your smug rich person attitude. i don't like the way you look down at me because i run a diner for a living. i don't like the way you think your privilege is a goddamn god-given right, like you're some kind of medieval king or something—"

"are you quite finished?"

"like i said, sixteen years, don't rush me," virgil says, kicking back in his chair and starting to tick things off his fingers. "i don't like your tacky rich people hair or your tacky rich people outfit. i don't like how you apparently think the bus is for drug dealers. i don't like most of the things you say about people who aren't as rich as you, actually, but that's a whole other thing. i don't like the car that you had that i egged that one time. i don't like how you think having a lot of money automatically makes you better than other people, i don't like the way you treat your son—"

"how dare you," she begins indignantly, loudly, and patton mumbles, shifting in his sleep. they both freeze.

"look," virgil hisses, "i am fully willing to fight with you, we just have to keep the volume low so that we don't wake patton up, clear?"

they both stare at patton for a few seconds. when she's satisfied that patton isn't waking up, she leans forward, and snarls, "how dare you," at a satisfactory volume.

"i dare because you and your husband are shit to him," virgil snarls. back, at a similarly quiet volume. "because you say fucking terrible things to him, and he's sensitive, and soft, and a good man, and he deserves better than you two jumping on him every time you get the chance—"

"you know nothing—"

"i know nothing?!" virgil snaps. "are you fucking kidding me?!"

"no, i most certainly am not!" she declares. "you know nothing about the way our lives have gone, you know nothing about the way our family works, and you have no right to pretend to know."

"oh, i don't?"

"no, you don't!" she says, strident. "it's none of your business how—"

"none of my business?!" 

"it most certainly is not!" 

"it is when patton shows up crying in my diner!" virgil hisses, fingernails digging into his hoodie. "it is when that's what's been happening after family gatherings with you for years! it's my business because sixteen years ago a kid holding a baby showed up and started sobbing in my diner and decided to stick around town, just because the first place he pulled into someone showed him some goddamn kindness for the first time in months, it is when you're messing with the life of my best friend and our fucking kid—"

"you are not logan's father—"

"look, i might not have contributed anything to logan's dna makeup, but that doesn't change that he's our kid," virgil says roughly. "patton's known that for years and logan has too."

there's a flicker of what might be surprise on her face, before she angrily sets her jaw.

"they're the ones whose opinion i care about, so i don't particularly give a fuck what you think about the fact that i've basically adopted your grandson," virgil says. "and i might not be one of logan's biological parents, but jesus christ, i'd never call him a disappointment, not in a million years. so all things considered, i'm pretty sure that makes me a better parent than you."

patton makes a soft snuffling noise in his sleep, and his head tilts a bit in virgil's direction. virgil tries not to feel too victorious about it.

"you have no idea what he did to us," emily says.

"yeah, i do," virgil says. "i was there. i saw how much it tore him apart. still does."

she stares at him, and says, quietly, "i wasn't just talking about him running away."

oh. virgil leans back a little more. right. patton's rebellious teenage years.

("okay, so, you gotta be careful when you try this, right?" virgil says, holding a shot of vodka a bit like it is a nuclear bomb. "drink it all down at once, then you drink this sprite right after or else it'll feel like your throat is burning—"

patton, freshly twenty-one, only stares at him, amused, and downs the shot like a pro, barely pausing to sip his sprite and grin at virgil, to the cheers of the other attendants of patton's fairly sparse birthday party.

"virgil," he says patiently. "this isn't the first drink of alcohol i've ever had."

"oh," he says lamely. "right."

patton snorts and pats him fondly on the cheek. "maybe when i get drunker i'll tell you all about my various teenage shenanigans."

"will it give me a heart attack?"

patton's grin turns a little vicious. "probably," he says. "i mean, it nearly did for my parents. would you say being a teen parent or riding along with chris when he crashed his porsche two hours after his parents got it for his sixteenth birthday is more heart-attack inducing? or the times i shoplifted from department stores? or my five separate fake ids? or maybe my boyfriend who referred to himself as 'the dragon witch' and got me an honorary place in a biker gang? or—"

"patton, oh my god—"

"i'm just warming up, here, we're not even in the good stuff yet," patton chirps teasingly.

"the good stuff? good stuff as in, like, bible study, right?" virgil says, trying to make it a joke to cover that he's about to hyperventilate, but patton laughs and accepts another shot from maria with a nod of thanks before he can get really into it, and then when he surfaces from that shot he demands the music be turned up so he can dance, c'mon, virgil, dance with me dance with me dance with me it's my birthday you gotta dance with me—!)

"okay," virgil says, "as someone who was also pretty stupid when they were a teenager—"

she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, and he rolls his eyes in return.

"you cannot seriously tell me you haven't done a few dumb things in life you regret," virgil says. "i hung around some kids who weren't the best influences—we called ourselves The Others, i know, it's stupid—and do i regret a lot of the stuff i did with them? yeah, i do. but i've bettered myself, i've moved on, and i've grown. patton has too."

"oh, he has," emily says doubtfully. "of course he has. suddenly, my eyes are open. you've delivered me nirvana. of course patton is no longer a teenager, why, i must have been confused because he insists on continuing to act like one."

"act like one?" virgil repeats cluelessly.

"it clearly isn't news to you that we and patton argue often."

"yeah, no, it isn't," virgil says. "i mean, patton's defending himself, but sure, whatever."

"through asking logan to treat us like lepers?" she snaps. "that doesn't strike you as immature behavior?"

asking logan to treat us like lepers, virgil mouths, and then, "you think patton asked logan to give you a hard time? are we talking about the same patton and logan?"

"well, why else would he—?"

"because logan is a smart, stubborn kid who hates the fact that patton has to sit through you two bullying him in order to secure money for his schooling, holy shit," virgil says. "because logan picks arguments like florists pick flowers, and if someone messes with one of His People it basically means free reign for him to fight back."

"well—"

"logan's literally a debate champion," virgil says. "you're telling me you think it's more likely that patton, your son, the same patton who didn't want to bother anyone when he came down with fucking pneumonia, that patton, you think it's more likely that that patton asked logan, who once got into a full-on argument with a four-year-old who told him that newspapers were stupid when he was fifteen, to be mean to you. you think that patton asked that logan to pick a fight? seriously?"

she crosses her arms and huffs, and suddenly, it clicks.

"oh, my god," virgil says. "you wanna know what your problem is?! you still think that patton's sixteen."

"of course i don't—"

"no, listen," virgil says, warming up to this theory. "patton runs away, and that sucks, i get it, i'm not arguing that. but the only times you see him after that until pretty recently are, what, holidays? so you don't see him on a day-to-day basis anymore. so you didn't see him grow up and grow up fast. and you still refuse to see him grow up, because he's your kid, and on one level i get that because logan becoming an actual adult scares me a lot, but on the other, seriously, lady, patton's thirty-two. he has a house and a good job and he's getting his degree and he has done a great job raising logan, who is, i think we can both agree, while being incredibly infuriating sometimes, is also one of the best teenagers on the face of this planet."

her nod is really more of a jerk of her chin.

"honestly, if anyone would be telling logan to pick a fight with you, it'd be me," virgil muses.

her eyes sharpen. 

"you told logan to—" emily begins, and virgil rolls his eyes.

"no," virgil says, "because when i don't like someone, i don't tell a sixteen-year-old kid to pass on the message for me, god. i'm just saying that if it was between me or patton telling logan to pick a fight, it'd be me."

a pause, a sniff, a "well, that i can believe."

"in the interest of honesty, or whatever, i have been telling patton to not let you into his life anymore for years," virgil says.

the look on her face isn't what virgil's expecting. virgil's expecting her nostrils to flare, her jaw to clench, her eyes to ignite with fury. he's expecting a loud outburst. he's expecting rage. what flickers across her face isn't that. 

virgil thinks it might be fear.

why would she be afraid of—oh. 

oh, that's why patton won't hear about cutting them out whenever virgil brings it up. that's why patton won't hear about leaving them. because he did it once, didn't he? he did it when he ran away to sideshire. 

"he won't listen to me, obviously," virgil says, refusing to acknowledge that he might be saying this to comfort her, but just to establish where they're at, in the fight. because, like, obviously patton wouldn't do that, but she clearly has a skewed idea of who her son is, so. 

"but it's a whole routine. you all fight, you upset patton, patton comes to me, i tell him to cut you two out. he makes excuses. you two... i dunno, god, patton apologizes for whyever you chose to fight him, or he at least smooths things over enough so that you guys get together for the next holiday, the cycle starts again." virgil waves a hand. "he gets irritated if i bring it up too much, so i don't. he's entirely too optimistic about you." 

she's quiet. virgil waits a few seconds, before he continues.

"and you realize that i'm definitely not the one who'd convince patton about cutting you out, but you know the one person he'd do anything for, even if it broke his heart?"

she's gone a little paler. "logan," she says.

"yeah," virgil says. "logan."

"logan wouldn't," she begins, but falters.

"if you keep fighting with patton like this, he might," virgil says. "logan hates it when his dad is upset. he hates it."

"he hates my house," she says, sharp. "he hates me and my husband."

virgil gawks at her.

"what?" she demands. "weren't you going to throw that in my face? weren't you going to lord it over me that he'd rather you be his guardian than us?!"

"i'm not that much of an asshole, jesus," virgil says. "i didn't—i didn't know you'd overheard that."

"yes, well," she scoffs, and fiddles with some of her bracelets. "when patton woke up, then, he kept trying to tell us how we could better take care of logan. even then he said that if we were at a loss, we should contact you."

"i," virgil begins, and shakes himself. "he said all that?"

"when we told him he had pneumonia, he seemed to be under the impression that he was—" her voice cracks. she does not have to say dying out loud—it's written all over her face.

virgil swallows hard, and looks to patton, slumbering peacefully, the beep of his heart monitor, the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. i left him, i left him, and he thought he was dying, he got so sick that he thought he might die because i left him— 

"oh."

"he promised he wouldn't."

"he better not," virgil says hoarsely.

"hmph. yes."

"i—" virgil looks at her, then back at patton. "i mean, he's right. i do know a lot in the whole 'care and keeping of logan' thing."

"oh, i'm sure," she mutters sarcastically.

"i could make it a whole lot clearer, lady," virgil mutters right back. 

she looks away from him, nostrils flaring. 

"i just—look," virgil says. "you realize you have to stop fighting with him, right? all it does it push them both away."

she might be about to say something, but before she can, patton makes a mumbling noise. they both freeze. 

patton's head nods down, sharply, before it tilts back up again. he squints.

"virgil?"

"yeah," virgil says, inching forward in his chair, itching to grab his hand again. "yeah, pat, it's me."

"mkay," patton murmurs, and yawns. "s'logan down for the night?"

oh, gosh, virgil hasn't been asked that question for at least twelve years. virgil figures he may as well play along, let patton get back to sleep faster.

"yeah," virgil whispers back. "yeah, he's out like a light."

well, hopefully true, when logan gets home.

"how many stories did it take?"

"oh, you know logan," virgil sighs, remembering how many storybooks logan would tug from his expansive, second-hand collection and stack them in his arms up to his chin, looking up at virgil expectantly, as if to say we both know you're a softie, you're going to read me all these, let's skip the argument, except virgil would pose a slight argument anyways and convince logan to let go of maybe three of them, because logan had always had virgil pinned on that whole softie thing.

"about a million. i made one up for him, too."

"was it about cecil the space pirate?"

"cecil the space pirate," virgil confirms, lips twitching. wow, the things patton's fever-addled brain thought up. virgil's nearly forgotten about cecil the space pirate, one of the only make-believe stories logan continued to tolerate even as he grew older and older and older. virgil's pretty sure that the second birthday story roman ever wrote for logan was about cecil the space pirate.

"mkay," patton murmurs. "i got work in the morning, don't i?"

"nah," virgil says. "nah, you get to sleep in tomorrow, lucky you."

"you'll be at the diner for breakfast?"

"'course i'll be at the diner for breakfast," virgil says. "i own it."

"want waffles," patton murmurs sleepily.

"if you're nice to me," virgil says.

"m'always nice to you," patton slurs.

"yeah, that's true," virgil concedes. "okay. if you're extra nice to me, how bout that?"

patton lets out what might be a giggle, but he's so close to dropping off again that it's hard to tell.

"get some rest," virgil murmurs, and hesitates, before he reaches over to brush patton's hair back. he promised he wouldn't. i’m not leaving you again. "you just go ahead and go to sleep, patton. i’ll be right here."

patton sighs, head tilting a little further into virgil's touch. he's not nearly as warm as he'd been when virgil found him, which is good, but still too warm for virgil's taste.

he can see emily, out of the corner of his eyes, looking a little more relaxed.

"i'm not finished with you, your days are numbered," virgil hisses in her direction.

patton hums at him quizzically, mumbles, "wha'?"

"i said, do you want some water?" virgil covers quickly, smiling falsely at him. it turns a bit more real as patton squints an eye at him.

"you don't gotta fuss 'bout my hydration all the time, you know."

"ah, but fussing's what i do best," virgil says gently, smiling at patton as he combs his fingers through patton's curls in a slow, repetitive motion. "go on, close your eyes again, there you go. go to sleep."

"you don't gotta fuss about how much sleep i get either," patton sighs, but closes his eyes obediently. his breathing evens out, soon enough. 

she's silent. virgil's thought about this fight—how it might go, where it might happen, who would win—for years. exactly none of it has gone according to how his brain said it might go. virgil has a lot of opinions on emily and richard sanders and the way they treat their son—on days where they've been behaving themselves relatively well, he thinks they're stuck-up, snobbish assholes, and on days where they haven't been behaving well virgil thinks about the things that patton tells him that they say to him and thinks about how they're something that starts with "emotionally" and ends with "abusive," and how patton would be so absolutely in his rights to cut them off, and he has wanted to fight emily or richard sanders for years. and now it's here.

and now it's... off.

"we want the best for him," emily says.

"that's exactly what he says, yeah," virgil says tiredly, and runs his fingers through patton's curls again. "the trouble is, what you think is best for him and what's actually best for him are two entirely different things." 

her lips twitch, with bitter humor. "that's exactly what he says."

and here's the crux of it: "but you don't agree," virgil says.

"no," emily says. her chin tilts up, proud. "no, we don't."

any sympathy virgil has toward her is gone. he kind of wants to reach across patton's bed and throttle her. they're in a hospital, they're in the right place for it.

"why the fuck not," virgil manages to hiss it and not shriek it. she's so close to understanding, so close to actually catching on and getting it and maybe, miracle of miracles, patching up her and her husband's relationship with patton, but now she doesn't get it?!

"because what he thinks is best for him is not the same as what is actually best for him," emily says. 

"okay, then, what do you think is actually best for him?" virgil asks, with a twirl of his free hand he realizes with muted horror he probably picked up from roman.

so she lays it out for him. patton getting his degree is all well and good, but he should get it from a "better" establishment. patton being a manager is all well and good, but not in the inn business—if he adds a bit onto his degree, why, he could go into insurance too, and be a manager there soon enough. and patton having a little country home is all well and good, but he should move into a neighborhood more fitting for him—a house that would be closer to chilton. a house that would be closer to her. and, well, if patton stumbles across a few friends of hers—the sons of members of the dar, the kind of sons who have privilege and strong savings and investments and would be able to take care of him, and  if they just so happened fit emily's bill of approval to a t—well, that certainly wouldn't be too bad for him, either. and with logan going off to an ivy soon, well, he might get lonely, it would be good for him to have someone, and maybe, just maybe, there could be other little perfect grandbabies on the way, and—

"okay, so, what i'm hearing is," virgil cuts in, "basically, you want to redesign his whole life."

"well, not his whole life," emily says. 

"what are you leaving him from the life he's managed to build in this 'donna reed' style daydream, just logan?" virgil says incredulously. "a little small-town summer house he can escape to?"

she blinks at him. "that seems reasonable."

"that seems like patton would be miserable," virgil says. 

she looks at him, blank. "why?"

"well, one," virgil says pointedly, "sure, patton's open to having other kids, but the only way they'd be biologically his is if he'd donate an egg. he never wants to be pregnant again, you do realize that's what messed up his brain to the point it did, back then?"

she looks at him, gobsmacked. "and how would you know that?"

(—patton's nineteen, and starting to go on the occasional date, which is kinda weird but patton's an adult and he can do what we wants, and currently he's going slightly steady with one of the businessmen who swings into town every other week or so, and it's going pretty well, or so virgil's heard and thought until patton careens into the diner one night, eyes huge and watery and gasping, and virgil's out from behind the counter before he can even think.

"hey," he says, and "hey—" and patton's face is crumpling up, and no, patton doesn't want to cry in the middle of the diner in dinner rush, so virgil says, "c'mere, c'mon," and puts an arm around his shoulders, trying to shield him from sight of everyone in the diner, quickly getting him through the back and patton bursts into tears as soon as the door to virgil's apartment shuts behind him.

"patton, patton, patton," he says, hushed, and patton, red-faced and crying, just holds out a shopping bag. virgil blinks, takes it, and takes out one of the three identical things that's in there and—

"oh shit," virgil says before he can really temper his reaction, and patton starts crying harder, and virgil curses, dropping the unopened pregnancy test on the ground, stepping forward and opening his arms in invitation and patton buries his face into virgil's chest, sobbing.

"i don't wanna be pregnant again," he gasps. "i don't wanna be—"

"okay, okay, it's okay," virgil says. "it's okay—do you know if—?"

"not yet, i was too—" patton gulps, and croaks, "i can barely afford logan, and i love him so much, but i can't—i can't do that again, i can't—"

"it's really rare for trans guys on t to get pregnant, right?" virgil says gently, and patton sniffs, louder, and nods.

"okay," virgil says. "okay. here's what we're going to do, okay? we're going to sit down on my couch."

they do.

"we're gonna get you calmed down," virgil says. "next, you're gonna drink some water, and you'll take it."

"and if i—?"

"we can talk about your options if the test's positive," virgil says gently. "but take the test first. okay? then we can cross that bridge if we get to it."

patton snuggles harder into virgil, hiccuping, and virgil runs his hand through patton's hair, over and over, until his shoulders stop shaking as much. 

virgil gets him some water. virgil waits when patton goes into the restroom. virgil waits as patton comes back, buries his face into virgil's lap and curls up hard, hiding from the world.

"why do you think you're—?" virgil begins. 

"i got really bad morning sickness, with logan," patton whispers. "migraines too. and i'm—i just, my period's been irregular since i started t, and it's mostly stopped, but there's been some spotting and i looked it up and that's a symptom too and i—"

"okay," virgil murmurs, trying to mentally sort what each of those might be—summer flu, dehydration, he admittedly doesn't know much about periods so he can't really say much about that—"okay. um. have you guys been, um...?"

"using protection, yeah," patton says miserably. "but apparently that's not very useful when it comes to me, so."

"huh," virgil says. "with logan?"

"condom broke, we think," patton says, and wearily runs a hand over his eyes. "or at least that's the most likely explanation."

"yeah," virgil says, and runs a hand over patton's hair again. he's about to ask patton if he's doing okay, except the timer goes off, and patton lets out a keening, horrible whine.

"i can't look," he whispers. "virgil, could you—?"

"yeah," virgil says, heart in his throat. impulsively, he kisses patton's head. "yeah, of course, i'll look."

he checks the guide. he takes a breath. he looks at all three tests. and then he double-checks them, and double-checks the guide, and he walks out of the bathroom to see patton hugging a pillow to his stomach, hunched over it.

"well?" patton whispers.

"well," virgil says, "i think you have the summer flu, or something, and you should probably make a doctor's appointment to ask about spotting, because you've got three nopes in there."

"oh," patton chokes out, and buries his face in his hands. "oh, thank god."

"yeah," virgil says, and goes over to the couch, hugging patton again. "yeah, buddy, you're okay."

"i just—god," patton manages. "i mean, i want another kid at some point, probably, but i can't—i can't be pregnant again. i can't do that. i mean, i love logan, i love him so much, but being pregnant with him—what it did to my brain, what it did to my mental health, i can't—"

he chokes up, and can't go on, and virgil's heart breaks a little.

"that's totally understandable and you do not have to justify yourself to me, or to anyone else," virgil says firmly. "hey, do you want me to get you a brownie, or something? i think you just put the 'scary' in 'pregnancy scare.'"

patton lets out what might be a giggle, a bit too hysterical to make virgil actually happy, but it's a giggle, nonetheless, and—)

"we talked about it once," virgil says evasively, fingers twitching through patton's hair as if to comfort distress that's thirteen years past. "look, just—none of what you just said would make patton happy, are you serious?"

"i wasn't talking about patton being happy, i was talking about what would be best for him," emily says. 

virgil blinks. "i'm not following."

she lets out a long sigh, as if he is being deliberately obtuse. "it would make patton happy if he were able to eat nothing but waffles and pasta and sweets all day. it would be best for him if he ate fruits and vegetables and maintained a balanced diet."

"that's an entirely different thing," virgil says hotly, withdrawing his hand from patton's hair and starting to pick at a loose thread in his hoodie.

"is it?" she challenges. 

"yeah, it is," virgil says, "because his life isn't as temporary as a meal. what's best for him in his diet is nowhere near the same way you should treat your life."

"that is where we disagree," she says, terse. "i believe what is best for him is not necessarily what makes him happy. there are procedures put in place, proper plans to be followed."

"doesn't what he want matter to you?" virgil says.

"what he wants is immaterial. sacrifices are often necessary in order to what is right."

virgil stares at her for a few moments, lets her words sink in, lets himself reflect on what following that might have been like, and—

"i am really indescribably sorry for you, right now," virgil tells her, and she sniffs.

"you hardly need to be. i was perfectly happy to follow the life i had set out for me."

virgil stares at her for a few more seconds, and she huffs.

"save your emotions," she says. "i've had just about my fill of them tonight." 

virgil snorts. "finally, somewhere we agree," he mutters.

they're quiet for another long stretch of time. 

"you genuinely think you know what's best for him?" she says, and virgil starts.

"i," virgil says. "yeah. better than you do, anyway."

"why?" she says, and then, derisively, "because you're in love with him?"

virgil doesn't quite reel back like she's smacked him, which is kind of how it feels, but he does pinch the fabric of his hoodie between his fingernails.

"no," he says. before he can say anything else, she plows over him.

"you look at him like he's a porterhouse steak!" she says, vindictive. 

"i do not," he says.

"oh, please, you look at him like he's about to give you a lapdance."

virgil just about chokes on air.

"i do not," virgil insists, "and anyway, that's not what i was about to say, i wasn't about to deny being in love with him, of course i'm in love with him."

she falters.

"i was going to say that me being in love with him doesn't change that i know what makes him happy better than you do," virgil says. 

"fine, then," emily says. "please tell me what you think would make him happy."

"his life, now, for the most part," virgil says. "living in sideshire, managing the inn. waiting for logan to get home from chilton, logan telling him about working at the courant, supervising roman and logan sleepovers. i think the biggest change would be if he got along with his parents."

she stares at him for one second. two.

virgil shrugs. "that's what would make him happy," he says simply. "that's what he wants. when he came home from lunch or brunch or whatever it was with you guys and logan and you guys managed not to fight the whole time, he was so happy."

she's silent.

"and i think that's what you want too," virgil says quietly. 

she's silent for a long time—enough time for patton to stir again, and, slightly hilariously and slightly heartbreakingly, seems to be stuck firmly in the headspace of logan still being a baby, and virgil soothes patton's mumbled worries about how logan's colic should be acting up by now before patton drops back off again. and by then, emily seems to have gotten control of her emotions again.

"you haven't put yourself into that little scenario of yours," emily says.

"the way we are now makes him happy," virgil says simply. "and that's enough for me."

she snorts. "idiots. the both of you."

virgil snorts a little, too, ducking his head. he rubs his thumb and forefinger against the worn spot on the cuff of his hoodie.

her eyes zero in on it. "did you," she begins, and then, almost suspiciously, "did you make that?"

"oh," virgil says, and awkwardly, "um, i mean, i bought the hoodie. but all the extra stitching and fabric and stuff, yeah. i did that."

"hm."

"i gave it to patton when we were on the way here," falls out of his mouth before he can stop it.

she looks at him a little closer. "you did?"

virgil coughs, awkward, and redirects his glance back to the sleeve he's worrying between his fingers. "he was, um. he had pretty bad chills, and i kept turning the heat up in the car, but it didn't help. and he wasn't saying anything, but i knew he was cold, so i gave it to him, but the orderlies had to take it off before he could go back in the test room, but i—i haven't been able to put it back on since."

his mouth snaps shut, and he's fully aware of his cheeks burning, fully aware of her eyes on him, and he stares even harder at the little imperfect faded oval he's rubbed into the fabric over the years, rendering that section of cuff a shade lighter than the rest of it.

"stupid, i know," he mutters.

she's quiet, for a moment, before she says, "i haven't been able to bring myself to change any of the decoration or furniture in patton's room since he left home."

he doesn't really know what to say to that. it feels like... he doesn't know. if it was any other person than one of patton's two parents, he'd say it feels like an olive branch. but with them, virgil's so used to hearing about arguments and bickering and favors offered with full knowledge they'd be paid back in full later, so it doesn't. it feels like a business deal. or like one of the faeries in the stories that virgil used to read to logan, before he insisted he outgrew such things—the kinds of sneaky wishes that would come back to bite you, in some way. it feels like a rabbit's foot. it feels like a monkey's paw.

"he has a way," virgil says at last. 

"he does, doesn't he," she says musingly. 

"yeah," virgil says, awkward.

there's another pause, a long stretch of quiet. enough time for a nurse to come and check patton's vitals, update his data, smile benevolently at them both, and leave.

"not that i'm asking your opinion," she says severely. "but your... idea. of how patton would like to lead his life."

virgil looks up, blinking at her. "yeah?"

she lifts an eyebrow at him imperiously. "do you think it's possible?"

"oh," virgil says. "i think—i mean, i don't really believe in you all that much, but patton does, so. if you keep fighting him and don't, like, remove your head from your ass, you're definitely going to push him and logan away, you know that, right?"

she doesn't really respond, and virgil huffs out an exasperated breath.

"look," virgil says. "you know what would patch all this up?"

"what?"

"if you and your husband apologized," for once. "if you and him apologized to patton, he'd forgive you in a heartbeat, you know. because again, he's way too optimistic about you."

"well, i hardly—"

"holy shit, you started it," virgil says. "you always start it. you cannot seriously expect your son, who is bedridden with pneumonia, to put in his usual work of trying to smooth it over between you three, the way he always does. for once, can you please just fucking set aside your pride for five seconds and apologize?"

"what he did—"

"sucked, i know," virgil says impatiently. "it sucks that he ran away, he knows that, he regrets doing that to you the way he did, but jesus christ, it's been sixteen years. he's apologized, hasn't he?"

she barely inclines her head.

"okay, so," virgil says. "can you just see that this is kind of a special circumstance and say the words i'm sorry? just one time. and he'll forgive you basically instantly. even if you don't understand why, just say it, and then you can playact at being a big happy family again."

emily chews at her lip.

...

"you're quite certain you don't want me to stay the night here?" 

"i'll be fine, grandpa," logan says wearily as they turn down the street to home, even as something in him delights at being so, so close to home again. "you should go back to your house, in case they need anything. you're closer to the hospital than i am here."

"well," he begins, about to turn into the drive, but he stops the car as the lights illuminate a familiar figure.

"who the devil," he begins, moving to lock the doors, but logan's flinging the door open before he can, unbuckling and nearly skidding on the icy driveway as he speedwalks to the front stoop, where the familiar figure is standing up, shivering.

"roman," logan says, and roman steps forward and hugs him tight, so tight, and logan closes his eyes, buries his face into roman's shoulder where he still smells like hairspray and the stage makeup he hadn't bothered to wipe off his face and sweat, still wearing the massive button-down he wears to cover his costumes while backstage at a show under his big, puffy winter jacket, and logan's home, he's home, and—

"oh my god, i'm so sorry i didn't call back," roman says, and draws back. he'd barely made a cursory smear of a makeup wipe on his face, so his stage makeup remains on his face, smeared with sweat. he still has purple glitter on his eyelids and sharp cateye eyeliner, and smudged, faded lipstick. "i didn't know what to do, i didn't know where you were, i didn't know if you were coming home for the night or not, so i just—"

"logan?" his grandfather calls, and logan turns, still holding roman in his arms.

"it's okay," logan calls. "it's okay, it's just roman. i'll see you tomorrow?"

richard surveys this, frowns, grunts a little, waves in farewell, and gets back in his car. logan opens the front door to the house, nudging roman in ahead of him and flicking on the light, turning back to lock the door. roman barely waits until he's turned the key until he's tugging at logan's suit jacket, and logan turns to face him again, and god, there he is, that's his best friend. 

"is your dad okay?" roman asks, frantic.

"he'll be fine," logan says. "i—the doctors said it was pneumonia and he'll be at the hospital for a few days, but they said he'd be okay."

"god, logan," roman says, and reaches to hug him again. logan closes his eyes tight, and leans into it, hard. for once, he won't deny that he maybe needs hugs right now.

they draw back, and logan, a little in disbelief, picks at collar of roman's button-up.

"you came," logan says.

"well, yeah," roman says, like it's obvious. "you were upset, of course i came."

i love you, logan thinks.

"i mean, admittedly, it wasn't like, straight to the hospital, or anything," roman says. "i tried, but i wasn't sure which one, and—"

"i'm going back to visit in the morning," logan says, tentative. "if you'd—if you'd join me?"

"yeah, of course," roman says, and takes logan's hand. he tugs logan into the living room, where the detritus of one of his father's blanket nests is in an armchair. they sit on the couch, where a collection of empty mugs sits on the coffee table. there is so much of patton in this house. logan cannot look anywhere without thinking about his dad.

suddenly, he realizes that roman's been talking this whole time.

"—but oh my god, l, that must have been so scary."

logan wants to deny that it was scary. logan wants to lie. logan wants to say objectively, the risks of pneumonia are relatively low, here are the survival rates and here are the usual methods of treatment and here is what will happen, and here is proof that my dad will be okay, and here are all the reasons why it is illogical to be upset, because he will be okay, and i know he will be okay, because virgil promised he would be okay and the doctor said he would be okay and the family physician said he would be okay, so there is no reason why my brain is still stuck at a point where i should think that he wouldn't be okay, because that is not true, because he will be okay.

instead, logan's lip trembles, and he catches it between his teeth with a groan, pressing his elbows against his thighs and bending to meet his hands, sliding off his glasses to press the heels of his hands against his stinging, hot eyes.

there's a body against him, then, a cheek pressed to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around him again, and logan swallows hard.

"i've gotcha," roman whispers. "i've got you, logan. i'm right here." 

and logan buries his face in his best friend's lap, and for the second time that night, he starts to cry.

...

there's a weight on patton's hip.

that's the first thing he's aware of, swimming out of the dark gray sludge of sleep, waking up slowly and not particularly liking it very much. there is a weight against his hip, and when at last he cracks open his eyes, the first thing he does is look to see what it is.

it's a familiar head. the face is mostly obscured by the hair flopping into patton's line of vision, but the hoodie that's been spread out over patton like a blanket and the t-shirt and worn jeans the familiar person is wearing are big enough identifiers that patton doesn't really have to wait for any of his reasoning skills to come back online.

virgil's got a hand close to patton's hand, where it's resting on the mattress, and an arm slung out across patton's stomach, not even pillowing his head. it's as if he'd reached out to make sure that patton would stay put.

patton's heart swells with a nearly unimaginable amount of fondness. he carefully moves the hand that virgil had nearly been touching to virgil's head. his hair, feathery and floppy and soft, is familiar under his hand. the hard curve of his skull is, too. patton doesn't get to touch him very much, but they're familiar anyways. he swipes an admiring thumb slowly down, tracing the line of virgil's jaw.

virgil nuzzles against patton's belly in his sleep. in doing so, a bit of his hair slips, and it reveals a bit of virgil's closed eye, bangs parting like curtains. the ever-present bags look slightly darker than usual. that must be why virgil fell asleep on him. well, patton certainly isn't complaining. as a matter of fact, he smiles, and covers virgil's hand with his own, feeling something in his stomach flutter.

he can go back to sleep, now.

 when he wakes again, it's to the clicking of high heels, and a voice he's known all his life.

"—did you say he'd be here, again?"

another voice—familiar, beloved, feels like he's known him all his life.

"logan's text said 9:30, so they're probably just parking and getting up to the room now."

"hmph. or the traffic's acting up again."

huh. he must be dreaming. there is no actual world where his mother and virgil are being so civil.

"look, they said they'd be here soon. with roman, too."

"the dance boy? patton says logan has a crush on him."

"oh, yeah, logan definitely has a crush on him. but patton really likes him, he's practically another kid. he's my neighbor, plus he's logan's best friend, so. logan probably told him about it and roman wanted to come wish him well."

"he was very well-behaved at logan's birthday get-together," his mother muses.

"yeah, he can be a real little charmer," virgil says darkly.

"he's a prince, it's practically in the name that he's charming," patton mumbles, trying to complete the old joke.

"oh, right on time," his mother says, pleased, and patton cracks open his eyes.

his mother's standing, holding a to-go cup of coffee, and virgil's still sitting at patton's bedside, where he dimly remembers virgil being a few times he'd woken up before. his hand's under patton's, and patton squeezes before he can really help himself. he's never really held virgil's hand before—this isn't exactly holding his hand, just his hand over virgil's, but it's close enough that patton's kind of unreasonably excited

"what were you saying?" patton asks, shifting against the pillows, trying to sit up a bit straighter.

"logan, roman, and your dad are all coming," virgil tells him. "should be here any minute."

patton nods, and makes the mistake of looking down at himself, only to suck in a breath and look up at the ceiling.

"what?" virgil asks, alert.

"needles," patton says, strangled. "i can see it, virge. i can feel it."

ivs! are! the! worst! sure, he's a bit more used to needles now because of his shots of testosterone, but with those he can at least aim and then look away and jab himself, and it's over relatively quickly, but he can feel it now and it is Bad—

"oh," virgil says, scrambling, "um—"

"here," his mother says, and patton turns his head away from the arm that has tubing coming out of it, to see his mother holding out her silk handkerchief. 

"oh!" patton says, and takes it, carefully draping it over the injection site as much as he can without looking at it, and risks a glance. yes, he can still see the tubing, and feel the iv, but as long as he doesn't move his arm and the handkerchief stays there, he should be... okay.

patton offers a tentative smile to his mom—she's been here, patton knows that, his memories are really fuzzy but he knows she's been here, but patton also knows that they've been freezing each other out for the past week, so. "um, thanks, mom."

she nods, once, and virgil says, "you doing okay, pat?"

"i think so," patton says uncertainly. "i mean, i still feel pretty—bleh."

"the doctor said you probably would be feeling pretty bleh for the next couple days, sorry," virgil says sympathetically. "but you're going to be just fine, patton. you're going to be okay."

a wave of relief sweeps through patton. he remembers, distantly, almost like it's a dream, the suddenly more aggressive and more pervasive fear of dying, but—but if a doctor said he'd be okay, and if virgil says he's going to be okay, then patton's going to be okay. 

"okay," patton says, and nods, absorbing this. "okay. um, good."

"uh, so, i think i might go out to the waiting room, wait for logan and roman to get here, if that's... if that's okay."

no that is not okay why are you leaving me alone with her?! patton wants to ask, but virgil's giving him a Look, a it's okay look, so patton lets out a little breath, and trusts him. obviously. it's not even a choice, he just does.

"you can keep an eye on my hoodie for me," virgil adds, flicking one of the sleeves so it folds over patton's lap, and patton looks up at him, blinking.

"you sure?" he says, tentatively running his thumb over a worn little bit of hoodie that he's seen virgil run his fingers over, too. "you never take this off."

"i think i can manage to trust you with it," virgil says, amused. "besides, that way you know i'm gonna be coming back, right?"

patton weighs these options. he fiddles with virgil's hoodie again, runs his fingers over the white stitching, feeling the variance of textures under his fingers.

"okay," patton says. "yeah."

"cool," virgil says.

and then virgil and his mom share their own little Look. patton has literally no hope of unparsing it if he tried—they still aren't fond of each other, obviously, but they look... they look understanding, almost. almost. not quite. but like they've reached some kind of point of agreement, maybe. not necessarily that they entirely agree, but just one point of agreement.

well, that's more than they had, so. patton's all for it.

his mother takes virgil's abandoned seat, and scoots a little closer, crossing her legs primly.

"well," she says, and fiddles with his blanket, pointedly avoiding touching virgil's hoodie, pulling the blanket over him a little more snugly. "how are you feeling?"

okay, so this is... weird. but patton can go with it. at least it's not yelling.

"um," patton says. "not my best?"

her face tightens.

"what?" patton asks in a tiny voice.

"young man," she says. "you were brought into the hospital between having actually collapsed and being on the verge of another one, with a fever so high you could have risked serious brain damage if you continued to refuse to seek treatment, and a case of pneumonia so serious that you have to stay in the hospital for at least three days, and all you have to say is that you don't feel at your best?"

"well, you see," patton says, "i'm really not at my best."

his mother looks five seconds from lovingly smothering him with his own hospital pillow when the door opens, and—

okay, virgil seriously isn't mean enough to leave him to get yelled at while he was bedridden and couldn't escape, right? had he really annoyed virgil recently?

"hello, patton," his father says.

"um, hi, dad," patton says, trying not to fidget, in case it jostled his arm and he had to be reminded about needles again. "are, um. are logan and roman here?"

"virgil took them to get coffee," his dad says. 

(actually, virgil is leaning against the wall just outside the door, out of sight of anyone in the room, monitoring this conversation just in case anything goes wrong, and what he said to roman and logan was "here's ten bucks, scram," and roman had wrinkled his nose at him and said "why?" and virgil said "privacy reasons, there's going to be an emotional moment," and logan had declared "gross" incredibly loudly and grabbed roman by the hand and dragged him in the direction of the hospital cafeteria, roman looking a bit too excited about logan holding his hand to really protest, but sure, the sanders' could all think that virgil took the kids to get coffee.)

richard pulls up a chair to sit beside his mother, and patton—patton is very suddenly reminded of the two other times in his life where he had to stay in the hospital for a period of time, when he gave birth, and when he had top surgery.

they were both there then, too.

neither time, though, had they had a fight quite as bad as the one they'd had last week.

"you don't," patton begins haltingly, and twists virgil's hoodie in his free hand. "you don't have to stay, you know."

they look at each other.

"it was very nice of you to drive roman and logan here," patton says to his dad, quietly, "but i don't—you two don't have to stick around, really. i'm going to be fine, and i can patch things up when—"

"we wanted to apologize," his mother says stiffly, and patton's mouth snaps shut.

"you," patton says, and swallows hard. "you, um. you what?"

"we wanted to apologize," his dad says. patton kind of wants to clean out his ears, and ask them both to repeat themselves one more time, or maybe page a doctor, please, because he thinks he might be hallucinating, but—

"we were out of line," richard continues. "i was out of line. i shouldn't have come down on you as hard as i did—for reopening an argument we've had before."

"oh, dad, that's not—" patton starts.

"will you be quiet and let us finish?" his mother says, snappish, and that almost kind of soothes patton, because if his mother's snappish even if she says she's in the middle of an apology it means his parents probably haven't been bodysnatched, so that's good.

"we are sorry," his mother continues, dignified and refined, and not particularly heartfelt, but that's actually kind of okay, because this was already so weird that if his mom started being the emotional one patton would—well, he doesn't know, really, he just knows it would be very strange. "we are sorry that you were upset, and we are sorry that we upset you further."

"please consider forgiving us," his dad says formally, and patton quashes the urge to giggle. please consider forgiving us in the same way he'd say please consider opening an insurance policy with our company to a client. 

"yes," emily says. "we are sorry for yelling at you, and for aggravating you when you were clearly upset and needed support, and for—"

she hesitates. she adjusts her jacket sleeves.

"and for putting you down," she says, and makes a slight moue of distaste. "for... bullying you."

patton, who is very uncomfortable, cannot help but laugh awkwardly. "i—i mean, i wouldn't say—"

"what else would you call telling you your reasoning wasn't good enough and saying you were a disappointment?" richard asks wearily, and patton shuts his mouth, directing his glance to his lap. he's fisted virgil's hoodie into a bunch he keeps curled in his free hand, with a white-knuckled grip.

"i," patton says, and swallows hard, trying to stop his voice from trembling. he can't say anything at all, and it reminds him unpleasantly of the argument, where he was lost for words, and he couldn't say anything, and he tried so hard to say something and when he did it wasn't good enough, and he swallows again, trying to search for something to say—

"you did nothing to deserve that," his dad says, and patton looks up, then, and oh. oh, his dad's eyes are... suspiciously shiny. "you did nothing to earn that."

"dad," patton barely manages to say around how choked up he is. the only time he ever saw his dad shed a tear was at his grandfather's funeral—and even then, it had only been a few, before he'd wiped off his face and continued stolidly onward.  

"i was being unfair," he says, rigid and unyielding. "i shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you, much less in such an extreme way. i lost my composure."

"yes," emily says. "so. we are sorry that we were upset, and we made it so that you were upset you, too."

it dawns on patton, then.

they're so bad at this. like, genuinely, they're terrible at apologizing. they've hit almost everything on the stereotypical "what not to do while apologizing list." they apologized that he got upset, not for the things they said that made him upset. they've been snappy and irritable, and sure, a little emotional, but he's pretty sure telling the person you're apologizing to to be quiet is also a thing not to do. they've been uncomfortable, not with their past actions, but with the words they're saying now. 

but honestly? it's the first time they've apologized to him. so no wonder they're bad at it. baby steps, he supposes, and this is a big one. it's the first one. plus, being bad at being humble and nice is kind of quintessential to the way the elder sanders' are. it's comforting, in a really weird way.

"why are you smiling like that?" emily says suspiciously.

patton smiles wider. "nothing," he says reassuringly. 

"well, you're certainly smiling for some reason," she says peevishly. "the least you could do is sit and listen politely without looking like the cat that's gotten the cream, patton, for goodness' sake—oh!"

the reason she's said oh! is because patton's leaned almost all the way off the bed to hug her around the shoulders with his free arm. he sets his chin on her shoulder.

"i love you, mom," he says sincerely.

"oh," she says, and her hand flutters uselessly somewhere along his shoulder blade. "oh, well, that's—how nice."

patton grins even wider, because it's just such a mom thing of her to do, to be so at a loss during an emotional moment. he draws back, and grins at his dad. "i won't hug you, but i hope you know i'm thinking about it."

"it's appreciated," his father says solemnly. 

patton settles back on his pillows, cheeks hurting. "i forgive you, by the way," he adds. "if it needs to be said."

"well, good," emily says, self-satisfied, as if she's succeeded in auctioning for a particularly rare piece of antique furniture. or, well. as if she's the cat that got the cream.

"how was it?" he asks, curious. "having logan spend the week over."

richard and emily exchange a glance. 

"eventful," emily decides, and richard nods in agreement, before he reaches to take one of the abandoned newspapers from the pile logan's compiled for him, and patton almost laughs.

it doesn't take very long for the kid in question to show up at the door, with a diner owner and his best friend in tow, virgil adjusting the chairs in patton's room, before taking a seat himself.

virgil reaches out and takes patton's hand, like it's habit, before he freezes. patton smiles at him, though, and squeezes back, flipping their hands a little so that he can stare at virgil's hand.

he guesses they must have held hands for the first time last night, when he was too feverish to really tune into it. but he takes the time now to marvel quietly at virgil's hands.

logan and roman start talking about roman's opening show of the nutcracker last night, so everyone else is paying attention to that, and patton's absorbing the information, really, but he's a bit preoccupied with virgil's long, bony fingers, his expansive palm, the way he keeps stealing looks at patton out of the corners of his eyes, like he's checking that patton's alright. 

there's dozens of tiny little shiny white burns dotting his fingers, from points where the heat must have leaked through a mitt or he'd forgotten a mitt altogether, or something. there's a longer one, along his wrist. it kind of surprises patton, because he knows how cautious virgil is with heat in the kitchen. he's got calluses and his hand’s a bit sweaty, but warm, and patton squeezes his hand again—an it's okay, an i'm okay, an everything's going to be okay, an i'm really happy you're here right now. a thank you. an i love you.

and virgil squeezes back.

[ridiculousravenclaw]

The Life of Elara Ware

This is a Harry Potter fanfic. Main character Elara is an original character by moi and is George Weasleys gf they started dating in 5th year. she's half blood hens the mention of muggle technology before anyone asks. And it's set during the GOF. I've never written anything like this before either so be nice.

Chapter 1

Elara couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She read the note again, unable to hide her relief at the sight of the familiar untidy scrawl. 'Elara its okay we're good. please dont worry. oh and Mom says you can still come. You'll have to share with Ginny and Hermione though. sorry we're a busy house at the moment. but seriously don't worry. None of us got hurt. A bit shaken up but we're fine. Dads been thrown into it at work though sorting it all. I've never seen him look so tired. and mums been really nice to us since we got back. Gotta say I dont know what's more annoying. The way she keeps fussing like we're about to drop dead any minute. I think I preferred her nagging. it wont last long. All it'd take is one glimpse of a joke wand or ton tongue toffee and she'll be back to her normal screaming self. Speaking of which, you wait till I show you what we've done. Think instant. projectile. vomit! genius huh? Anyway I'll see you really soon. Love your favourite red headed knight in shining armour.'

She rolled her eyes. George was many things but a knight in shining armour was pushing it.

Collapsing back onto her bed Elara felt the tension seeping off her shoulders. Ever since the news had broken the previous day about the attack at the quidditch world cup she'd been going out of her mind with worry. No matter how many times she tried she hadn't heard a thing let alone any news on the Weasleys. Until now. She closed her eyes and pushed away the dreadful images that'd been swirling in her mind. Each scenario more terrible than the last. Its okay. They're okay. You'll see them really soon. With that final reassuring thought she sat up and made her way downstairs.

The house was silent, which was to be expected. Her parents were working so she was home alone again. She didn't mind. After all these years she was used to it. Used to the last minute I've got to gos and sorry I'm going to be home lates. They weren't to blame, such was the nature of their jobs. Elara looked around the spacious hallway. The mid afternoon sun shone through the glass door at the end of the hall and lit up the stairwell. Its beams reflecting off the crystals of the chandelier. Her parents had worked hard to pay for all this and they did it all for her. She knew better than to be ungrateful for a few lonely evenings here and there. She glanced across at the clock. 4:30. She was unsure when to expect her mother but Elara knew her dad wouldn't be home anytime soon. She looked at the letter again still clutched tightly in her hands. It was no surprise Mr Weasley had been called in. From what her father had told her the ministry was trying to get every available person in to figure out who was responsible for the disaster at the world cup. As an experienced member of the department of international magical cooperation; Hamlin Ware had been one of the first called on the scene and he hadn't been home since. This told Elara one thing. The ministry of magic didn't have a clue who was behind it or why they attacked.

4:40. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd been stood on the second to last step for 10 whole minutes lost in thought. "get a grip" she muttered to herself under her breathe as she walked towards the kitchen. She was staring at the cupboards trying to decide if she was hungry enough to start cooking dinner when the phone rang.

"Hey honey. how are you doing?" Her mother sounded exhausted on the end of the line.

"yeah I'm good. I've finally heard from George. He's okay. they're all okay."

"well thank heavens for that!" she said. Elara heard her mothers exhale of relief. "yeah I know. He said I'm still okay to stay there for the last few days of the holidays"

"see? we said he'd be alright didn't we? oh and I really don't want to impose on their family, especially after this, but... oh thank the lord for Molly Weasley. Yes. If shes truly okay with that then great. It'd be a massive help. Look I'm sorry my lovely but Adrian's sons not well again. poor lad. hes had to take extended leave to look after him. I mean, why the mother can't look after her own boy now and again is beyond me but, hey, that's none of my business i suppose. And Veronica's being her usual, I'm too important to do any work, self. Oh you should have seen her earlier. 'oh look at me in my brand new Porsche'. its orange! and not a nice orange like a sunset or something. no, like fake tan gone wrong, that's what it looks like. Uh. Anyway. Breathe Mary-Anne. The point is I'm the only other translator in the office that speaks fluent enough Polish for the conference next week. I'm sorry darling that's 2 weeks in London"

Elara could feel her mothers guilt almost radiating through the speaker.

"it's okay mum. really I understand. i dont mind. I'll go to the Weasleys and they can take me to kings cross itll be fine."

"oh my girl what did I do to deserve you?"

"hmm, not sure. but it must've been good. maybe you saved a village from plague in a past life"

Her mother chuckled. Then she grew silent. After a moment she said

"I'm probably going to be late tonight too"

there was no hiding the hint of sadness in her voice.

"I know" Elara said "it's okay. theres some leftovers hiding in this kitchen somewhere and they've got my name on them."

"Larie"

"Mum. stop. it's fine. look I'm going to have some food. have a shower. then have an early night. honestly you're not missing out on much. I'll see you tomorrow. okay?"

"okay. oh Larie I love you. more than anything in this world.

"love you too mum"

"oh and remember to check the doors locked properly and..."

"and check the security systems running. I know mum I've got it"

"you checked your trunk? you're starting your newts this year. Can't be leaving anything important behind."

"yes I've checked it. I've got everything packed dont worry."

Her mother sighed. "okay. see you later."

"bye"

Elara couldn't help but roll her eyes everytime. but still she compulsively checked the front and back door locks and the flashing screen of the home security system. Online. She knew it would be. But from a young age her mum instilled this pattern. "you must be safe Elara." she'd said. "always be safe" The overprotective persistence of her mother used to annoy her as a child. But now Elara found comfort in the metaphorical safety net her mother cast for her. It let her know that she was loved.

Making her way back to the kitchen she pushed the days worries from her mind. It looked like another evening of peaceful me time she thought. and she was going to see George soon. She smiled to herself. She had missed that cheeky grin.