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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 5 years ago

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The first snow of the year

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: fluff, adorable Steve

Summary: Steve is a working freak and you do your best to remind him there is more to life than work. And the first snow of the year is about to help you.

A/N: This little fluffy one shot is for the amazing @arawynn and her Winter Challenge. I had surprisingly lots of fun, despite not having angst in it :) I hope you will all enjoy it❤️

A huge thank you to my amazing beta @andromedahereicome

Word count: 2100

Mr. Steven Grant Rogers was a workaholic. It wasn’t a secret and after dozens of complaints, he himself stopped correcting people. The ‘I just like things done’ talk was not working, so he gave up on trying to excuse himself. He liked things done in his own way, at his own time, and if that made him a workaholic, than beat it.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know”, you told him once when he visited the little coffee shop that Tony let you open in the Tower. After all ‘even Avengers need some sweetness in their lives' as he used to say.

“Then why does it make me feel like it is?” He asked, shoveling one of his favourite apple filled croissant into his mouth. “No one seems to mind when Tony spends nights in his office.”

“Because Stark had enough time in his wild life to actually enjoy it.” You topped his coffee mug and smiled. “When was the last time you did something that actually made you happy? Brought a genuine smile on that cute face of yours?” You chuckled seeing him blush. It always amazed you how easy it was to make him uncomfortable. You would think that a man like him didn’t have a problem with women and yet here he was. As shy as a teenage boy.

“There isn’t much that makes me happy nowadays”, he whispered and you felt your heart breaking into million tiny pieces seeing his sad expression. The way he averted his gaze away from you made you sigh and reach for his hand.

Rogers has become your best friend surprisingly fast. You enjoyed his company the first second he came to your shop looking like a lost puppy. Seeing how much trouble it brought him to decide from the menu, you helped him chose the dessert and he decided to try a new coffee and beverage every time he came over to decide what he likes. The small, anxious and nervous talks quickly changed into the ‘get to know you’ talks and you found yourself enjoying his company more and more with his every visit. Which also became more frequent. With at least one visit per day he quickly became your VIP guest. He always blamed his metabolism and your ‘delicious’ sweets for that. But you never fought him on it. You were too happy to have him here to question anything.

And he liked coming to see you. You never seen him as Captain America. Or the Avenger. It was a nice feeling to be Steve Rogers. The shy, anxious man who didn’t know how to speak to a dame. Steve from the 40s. You were an excellent listener, always happy to lean closer and listen to his ‘boring stories’. You never forced him to tell you about the missions, but were ready to comfort him if he needed it. Normally it was with a coffee and a piece of an apple pie on the house, but the longer you knew each other, the more frequent hugs became.

“I promise”, you started quietly, bringing his attention back to you. “ I promise I will help you find whatever makes you happy. I want to see that pretty face light up.”

He was thankful. You seemed like you always knew what to say and do whenever he was down. It wasn’t only the little sweet gifts you gave him as a bribery to get him to talk. But the aura around you always made him relax and just trust you. LIke you were this amazing support system that always knew what he needed.

He took a deep breath, looked at all the papers and hid his tired face in his hands. The paperwork was growing everyday and he felt like this was a mountain a bit too big for him to climb. He didn’t want anyone to overwork so he always did it by himself, but he was slowly starting to lose hope.

He straightened up when the smell of freshly baked cookies caught his attention. He wasn’t sure how he did not pick up the sound of you coming in, but the little box in your hand caught all of his attention.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, turning in his chair towards you. The smile you gave him melted his heart a little. It always amazed him, the way you looked at him. The way your eyes shined whenever he caught them staring at him. That little smile that was only reserved for him made him feel special. Not the Captain America special. But a ‘man’ special.

“Long enough to see that you need a break for some freshly baked new specials and hot chocolate.” He smiled and pulled a chair closer to him, inviting you to sit down. You accepted the request and handed him the cup, opening the box. “Those are my new invention. I hoped you could be my guinea pig?” He chuckled at it, taking one of the cookies. It was like an arrangement between the two of you. Whenever you baked something new, he would be the first one to taste your experiments. In return, you would use his muscles power for some food shopping. Two way deal.

“What's wrong?” He finally asked when you started to look at the window, which he had both closed and shut out from any light coming in.

“Snow”, you mumbled quietly, taking a sip of the hot cocoa. “It’s snowing.” He raised his brow, stood up and opened the curtains of his window to be met not only with the snow, but also the moon. He looked on the clock and cursed himself. It was past nine P.M. The time passed without even knowing when. What surprised him more, was why you were still here. Not that he was complaining.

“Do you need help to get home?” You looked up at him and couldn't help but laugh at his lost expression and the adorable gentleman that was still inside him. Of course. Steve Rogers would never leave a dame in distress.

“I was wondering…” The nerves were getting better of you. You knew that he was busy and you probably have to say no, but you still came here with a hope. But hell, a girl should try, right? So you got up, walked to the little couch he had in his office and grabbed both your and his coat, that were hanging outside of the room. “It’s the first snow of the year… And I always like to watch it. You know, go somewhere high, like a roof, and just stare at the city slowly plunged in snow.” you blushed and looked away when his eyes met yours. You bit your lip nervously and your shoulders dropped. “I mean I understand you’re busy. I see the paperwork… but I was hoping you would take some time off for a while… And you”, you looked up and smiled nervously. “Maybe this would be the thing that would bring a smile to your face?” His eyes widened and a little smirk appeared on his lips. “I mean you don’t have to…”

“I’ll take some fresh air”, he said, taking the coat from you. You beamed at him and started to put yours on, of course with his help. You had a cute winter hat on, a puffy scarf and warm gloves. He looked at you and chuckled at your protection.

“Well, I’m sorry” you whined sarcastically, “Not everyone has super serum to keep them warm.” He nodded apologising and walked into the elevator. You looked up when he shifted uncomfortably. His face blushed, at the bottom lip caught between his white, perfect teeth.

“Well… You have a soldier with super serum in him to keep you warm”, he finally said, so quietly that you weren’t sure whether it was directed towards you. He wasn’t looking at you, gazing at the wall in front of him. His body was tense, and fingers were playing with the hem of his winter coat. You couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. And before you were able to stop yourself, you encircled your hand with his, squeezing it a bit. His eyes travelled down to your linked hands and a bashful smile appeared on his face. He squeezed your hand back, and his body relaxed a little.

Your smile widened when the elevator opened and you were literally pulling Steve with you to the roof. It was your favourite place on earth. The tower was high enough for you to see the city and with the snow and late hour it looked even more magical.

"Someone's excited", he chuckled at how you started to walk faster.

"Just wait, smartass!" He smirked and raised his brow at your pouting face. Oh how much he just wanted to kiss that pout away. When you squeezed his hand and accepted his stupid outburst of words, he made a decision. Today will be the day he will make a move. No more flirting and humping around. He's going to ask you out and make you fall in love with him as much as he is with you. "Look!" You exhaled excitedly opening the doors to the roof. "It started snowing about two hours ago, so the city is a bit covered", not letting go of his hands you pulled him with you to the edge of the of the roof. "Look!" You repeated, gesturing at the city. It was already dark-ish so the lights were on, and the white puff of snow was already covering buildings, streets and trees. Steve had to agree with you. It looked magical. The moon that was shyly showing out of the clouds was adding a nice 'romantic' touch to the view.

"Wait, hold up just a second. What are doing?" He asked concerned, watching you pushing the snow away from the edge of the roof and sitting on it, with your legs hanging on the open air, all those meters away from the ground.

"Don't tell me the great Captain America is afraid of height", you chuckled and patted the place next to you, cleaning it as well with your gloved hands.

"It's not the heights I'm afraid of, but the lack of parachute if we fell", you looked down and laughed opening the bag of cookies and taking one. "Aren't you afraid?" He asked, finally joining you, taking two cookies from the bag.

"Of what? I've got my own super soldier next to me, who would save me, right?" You winked at him, chuckling when he gagged on the cookie.

You liked him. You never hid that. Not with the flirtatious jokes at the cafe, or the little not so short talks you had outside of it. The little touches here and there only added to the obvious message. You remember all those sarcastic comments from Stark about Cap's thick brain when it came to women. You never looked at it that way. You happily received the shy compliments from him or the hugs, that you enjoyed more than you had a possibility to say. Or the fact that he came to see you despite being in the cafe already 3 times that day. He was adorably obvious about his motives, but too shy to make a move. So you decided to step up. You weren’t sure how open you could be, but you enjoyed the little banter you had.

“My mom died during my birth,” You started, looking at the lightened town. “My dad picked up extra hours at work. He was working his ass off to make sure I would have whatever needed in my life. He is a good man and I love him to bits. But because he worked so hard I haven't seen him much. But we always took our coats, blankets, too many cookies, and even more hot chocolate and we just sat and enjoyed the first snow in the year.” You looked up and smiled brightly at him. “See, I told you.” He frowned not understanding. “You have a beautiful genuine smile.” You chuckled seeing him blush. “Tell me, Steve”, your eyes travelled down to his lips. “What would make you happy?” He swallowed hard and smiled softly.

“I would really like to kiss you now.”

“Then what stops you, Soldier?” He smiled and leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. Maybe, just maybe, Steven Grant Rogers will start to work a bit less from now on.

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5hfanfiction · 7 years ago

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Hold Over My Heart - Chapter Three

Hold Over My Heart - CHAPTER 3

A/N:

This chapter gives you guys a bit more insight on the accident and Lauren’s reason for moving to NY.

I’m always happy to hear about what you guys think so feel free to let me know!

Hit me up @jaureguicabello5eva on ao3/wattpad

*****

Camila looks out of the window of the restaurant she’s in as she thinks about all the emotions that’s weighing in her mind. Their food had just arrived but Ally is still in the bathroom and she didn’t want to start eating without the smaller brunette so she lets herself get lost in thoughts. Her eyes wander through the streets and thinks about how all the things she sees are but a glimpse of the countless lives all around her.

Her eyes fall on a young teen, his built is lean and muscular, and she watches him as he laughs and jokes around with his friends, playfully pushing each other along the sidewalk. Camila thinks about what opportunities lie ahead for him and wonders if he’s grateful. She continues to look around and sees an older couple walking hand in hand alongside a teenage girl, wide smiles on their faces as they talk merrily, bundled in layers of clothing as they try to fight winter in New York. The wrinkles by their eyes and mouths tell of a life filled with struggle, but also that filled with smiles. Camila wonders if they know how lucky they are to be able to grow old together. She sees a truck driver, leaning his head lazily on his elbow that is propped on the side of his door as he tries to brave through New York traffic, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. She hopes he’s responsible enough to pull over when he knows he’s approaching his limit.

Then, her eyes land on a middle-aged man staggering on the sidewalk. Camila can see from where she’s sat that the man’s eyes are glazed, his coat open to show that his dress shirt is untucked at the bottom and unbuttoned at the top. His hair is a mess and he’s sporting an unkempt stubble. Camila watches with scared eyes as he uses what he can – parking meters, parked bikes, the side of a car – to keep himself upright.

The brunette shuts her eyes close and takes a deep breath, praying and hoping that he’s not about to get behind the wheel. She’s relieved when she opens her eyes again and sees a woman guide him to get in the back of a car. Camila steadies her heartbeat and takes a swig from her glass of wine, trying to shake off the memories of that night.

She’s brought out of her reverie when Ally comes back to sit across from her, panting from slight exertion. “I’m sorry I took so long,” the smaller girl says as she catches her breath. “There was this mom that needed my help in the bathroom.” Camila smiles at the purity of her friend’s heart and considers herself lucky enough to be blessed with people like Ally to help her get through her toughest times.

They talk throughout their dinner, discussing business every once in a while because as much as they try not to, they, along with Dinah, grew up in the corporate world. They’ve been whisked away to business trips to places like Morocco and fancy dinners in cities like L.A. for as long as they can remember, so much of it is second nature, really – the inside of conference rooms as common as those of class rooms when they were growing up.

For the most part however, they engage in conversation about their lives outside of the office. Camila asks about Ally’s husband, Troy, and how he’s doing at the new law firm he’s been working at, while Ally tries to subtly get information about Camila’s mental and emotional state and is unsatisfied when the girl fails to elaborate. She can tell her friend is definitely better compared to recent months, but she’s worried about the reason why.

Ally sees it in the way Camila looks rested most mornings, with the occasional days where she looks like she hadn’t slept a wink, few and far in between. She sees it in the girl’s improved mood and the way she gets more involved in conversation when they have lunch together. She has an idea of what’s changed based on a discussion she had with Dinah, but Ally wants to make sure Camila knows what she’s getting into.

–

“Lauren and Camila are definitely fucking,” Dinah’s booming voice reverberates through Ally’s office as she waltzes in and plops onto her couch with a wide smile on her face.

“Dinah Jane!” Ally whisper-yells with wide eyes. “Can you please tone it down? We’re in the freaking work place for crying out loud.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the blonde says sheepishly. “No one’s out there anyway, your secretary’s out for lunch,” she shrugs. “Anyways, did you hear what I said?”

“I think all of Manhattan heard what you said,” the girl at her desk deadpans.

Dinah just rolls her eyes. “Upon further investigation on my part,” she gives the girl a look for not actively helping her in figuring out why Camila has been noticeably happier lately. “I’ve concluded that Camila is getting laid a lot, like possibly, every night - courtesy of our new Ad Account Manager,” she says with a smirk.

“How do you figure that?” Ally asks while never taking her eyes off her computer, although her interest is piqued.

“Well today, I saw them eye-fucking each other and then they thought they were being slick by going to the bathroom five minutes apart,” she says with a shake of her head. “And they came out together after like, half an hour, with Camila looking a whole mess,” she shrugs. “I put two and two together.”

“Huh,” Ally says in deep thought. “So you think Camila took your advice and is doing some no strings attached business with Lauren, or do you think they’re like together, together?” she says the last part unsurely, having the tiniest bit of hope, although she already knows the answer to her own question.

“Psh,” Dinah scoffs. “You and I both know Camila is not ready for that ish,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m almost positive it’s just sex.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” the brunette responds sadly.

–

Ally doesn’t even realize that she’s staring until Camila’s voice floats through the air and shakes her out of her thoughts.

“What,” Camila asks with a confused face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry,” Ally shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Alz,” the taller brunette insists. “What is it? Come on, I’m a big girl. I can take it,” she says with a smile to ease the girl’s worries.

Ally bites her lip and takes a deep breath before answering. “Do you think what you’re doing with Lauren is what’s best for you?” she asks in a small voice.

Camila stiffens up at the mention of their arrangement. She doesn’t remember telling Ally, or anyone really, because that was part of the deal. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she responds curtly, silently asking the girl to move on from the topic.

Ally gives her a look that says she’s full of shit and it’d be a waste of time trying to deny the obvious so she might as well speak up. Camila sighs deeply when the girl stands her ground and she focuses her gaze on her pasta when she speaks.

“How do you even know about that?”

“Dinah figured it out. You aren’t as subtle as you think,” the smaller brunette says, trying to get a read on Camila’s expression.

“Well, fuck,” Camila says as she leans back on her seat in resignation. “No one is supposed to know. God, Lauren is not gonna like this,” she mutters as she rubs a hand on her temple.

“Why don’t you worry about what Lauren will think later and focus on my question,” Ally continues with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure whatever – arrangement – you and Lauren have can spare your best friends, who you’ve known all your life and shouldn’t be shutting out.”

Camila sighs again at Ally’s tone and tries to gather her thoughts so she can explain herself well without giving too much away. She blocks out the chatter around the restaurant and trains her face to hide what she’s really feeling. “I don’t see the harm in it,” she shrugs. “We’re both getting something out of it and we’ve discussed it extensively, trust me,” she says with a small smile. “It’s consensual and completely mutual with the option for either of us being able to back out whenever we feel like it.”

“So this isn’t like a real relationship?”

“No.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to do this and get involved while – you know…” she doesn’t really know how to say it.

“While I’m damaged?” Camila asks with a bitter laugh. “I’ll be sure to keep my problems to myself, I promise.”

“Camila, you know that’s not what I meant,” Ally says in a tone that lets Camila know she cares but at the same time makes the taller brunette want to pull her hair out. She can’t stand the pitying stares and the concern of everyone around her constantly hovering above her head like a fog. It’s suffocating and it takes her back to that night when she couldn’t breathe from the all-encompassing grief that surrounded her - when she witnessed everyone else lose while she was given the chance to live, if she can even call it that.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself because she really can’t afford to blow up on one of the few friends she truly cares about. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m really not ‘involved,’” she quotes her friend. “This thing with Lauren – is purely about sex. That much is clear. She knows it. I know it. We’re both adults and that’s that.”

Ally stops herself from saying what she really thinks. That it’s never going to be just about sex if they continue this. Feelings are going to get involved and Camila is already too hurt to be putting herself in this position. She knows Camila isn’t ready to be emotionally invested in anyone and she doesn’t want her friend to be put in a situation where her insecurities and her demons will come back to haunt her. She doesn’t know Lauren personally, but she feels bad that the girl might become a casualty in this mess. She hopes they truly know what they’re doing.

“Okay,” Ally responds quietly, but it doesn’t appease Camila. She feels like she has to prove herself.

–

Camila lies still in her bed as her mind races, thinking about Ally’s words. She’s wrong, it doesn’t mean anything and it won’t mean anything. She’s going to prove it to herself. With a determination like never before, she unlocks her phone and looks for the green-eyed girl’s contact. When the raven-haired girl doesn’t answer her call, she huffs to herself and sends a text instead.

Camila: hey, come over?

After a few agonizing moments, she receives a reply.

Lauren: sorry, can’t right now

Camila scowls at her screen and sends her reply.

Camila: text me when you can

She locks her phone and huffs on her bed, crossing her arms petulantly as she’s not used to being denied or not getting her way.

–

Lauren replies to Camila’s booty text and shakes her head fondly at the insatiable brunette.

Lauren: will do, princess ;)

She puts her phone away as she straightens her clothes and walks through the familiar doors into the building while holding onto a bouquet of gardenias.

As she stands outside the door for the millionth time, the green-eyed girl tries compose herself and runs a hand through her hair once more before she takes a deep breath and turns the handle to push it open, a smile quickly forming on her lips as she sets her sights on the most important woman in her life.

“Hi mama,” she greets her mom as she approaches her bedside, gently placing the flowers on the table so she can lean down and hug Clara. She holds onto her for a few moments longer than usual, trying not to break down early in her visit.

When she’s sure she can handle herself, she pulls back as she fixes her mom’s head scarf with a smile she hopes doesn’t look as sad as it feels. She’s been in and out of the hospital for months now and it can still be a jarring experience to see her mom looking so helpless on a hospital bed. Her mother is the strongest woman she knows and it’s turning her world upside down to see her so fragile.

Clara fought to give her a good life, working countless jobs to put Lauren through school so she wouldn’t suffer the same fate. She showed strength when a rich businessman, who pursued her with promises of romance and happiness and who she didn’t realize was already married, got her pregnant and left without so much as a word. While he continued his picture-perfect life with his legitimate children, Lauren and her mother were barely able to keep their heads above water.

It’s not until Lauren started working for a prominent advertisement firm in Miami after her mom got her through college with her own blood, sweat, and tears, that Lauren started making a good amount of money, allowing the raven-haired girl to provide a comfortable life for herself and her mom.

And just when things were looking up, they were blasted with the news that Clara has stage four breast cancer. She hadn’t been able to take the necessary precautions and proper screenings in her younger age because she’s been too busy working and now Lauren feels blindsided. Her mom has been her sole source of strength and as much as she wants to break down and cry and curse whoever is in charge of this universe, she knows it’s her turn to be strong. She doesn’t know how long it’ll last, but she’s going to try for as long as she can.

Clara’s condition is what brought them to New York in the first place. Lauren left a good position in Miami because her mom had qualified for a new clinical trial that is being conducted by the researchers in Columbia University Medical Center and she’d immediately latched onto that opportunity, knowing that there aren’t very many clinical trials available for stage four cancer patients.

“Are they treating you right here, ma? I gave specific instructions about how they should take care of you,” she says with a small smile as she holds onto her mom’s hand, calloused and wrinkled from years of hard work.

“They’re treating me just fine, mija,” Clara replies, looking fondly at her daughter, trying to cherish as much of these moments with her while she still can. “How about you? Tell me more about your life in the big city.”

So Lauren indulges her mom’s request. She talks about her new job and how she’s found a great place to work. She’s met new friends and has reconnected with old ones. When her mom asks about her love life, she just smiles and shakes her head at her mom’s persistence. She’s been pushing the dark-haired girl to settle down once she finds the one and Lauren refuses to think about why her mom is so insistent on her finding someone to settle down with.

“You’re the only girl I need in my life, you know that right?” Lauren teases her mom and Clara looks at her with sad smiling eyes. Because that’s exactly what she fears – that Lauren won’t do well once she passes away because she refuses to find happiness for herself. It’s always been just her and Lauren for all of the girl’s life and she doesn’t want Lauren to be too sad for too long when she goes.

“Whatever you say, mija” she finally concedes.

Lauren stays in the hospital until the nurses have to practically drag her out and she leaves her mom with a kiss and a hug and a promise to come back like she always does. She walks out of the hospital with a heavy but hopeful heart, trying to be positive and strong – if not for herself, for her mother.

She pulls out her phone and texts Camila.

Lauren: you still want me to come over?

Camila: yup

Lauren rings the doorbell and smirks at the sight of Camila clad in only a crop top and small lace panties. The brunette grabs hold of her arm without a word and drags the girl to her bedroom, pushing the green-eyed girl to lie on her back on the bed.

“Well, hello to you too,” Lauren laughs as she sits up and takes off her jacket, only to be pushed back down by Camila as the brunette immediately goes on top of her, attacking her neck with hungry kisses.

“Shut up,” Camila says, her voice muffled by Lauren’s neck.

Lauren and Camila are sharing lazy kisses as they try to come down from their highs, with the dark-haired girl hovering over the brunette when the smaller breaks the comfortable silence. She pushes the girl back a little to look at her, her brown eyes blown and wide, her lips red and swollen from Lauren’s relentless mouth.

“What, is something wrong?” Lauren asks with a confused face.

Camila shakes her head and pulls Lauren by the back of her neck to another searing kiss before breaking it once again as she breathes out, “Sit on my face.”

Lauren’s breath hitches at the back of her throat and she’s brought back to her senses when she feels Camila’s warm hands running along her sides, urging her to move up. She sits up to straddle the girl and moves on shaky knees until her legs are on either side of Camila’s head. The brunette looks at her with blown, dark eyes and maintains eye contact as she grips the girl’s pale thighs and lowers the green-eyed girl onto her face.

“Fuck!” Lauren moans at the first contact her already-swollen sex makes onto the brunette’s eager mouth. Camila trails a broad lick from the green-eyed girl’s entrance to her clit, giving the stiff bud a light nip, which sends shocks up the dark-haired girl’s body. The smaller girl immerses herself in Lauren, devouring the girl’s folds and licking relentlessly as she breathes in the girl’s neatly trimmed, dark curls. Lauren moves one hand to grip onto Camila’s hair and guides the brunette right where she wants. “Fuck, baby. Right there, Oh!”

Camila lifts Lauren off of her for a few moments and takes the opportunity to catch her breath, leaving nips along the girl’s thighs instead. She brings a hand around the girl’s leg to rest on the taller girl’s clit and starts to rub slow circles over her nerves as she lowers the girl onto her mouth again. “Come on, baby. Ride my face,” she husks against Lauren’s core, her warm breath almost sending Lauren over the edge. She brings Lauren down onto her, entering her with her tongue and guiding the taller girl to move up and down on her stiffened muscle.

Lauren gets the hint and starts rocking against Camila’s face, rolling and swiveling her hips in a way that drives the brunette’s tongue deeper. Her movements become erratic and her breathing increases as the brunette continues to rub and pinch and tug at her clit while keeping her tongue inside Lauren, curling it on the upstroke. “Fuck – fuck –oh, I’m gonna –” Lauren cuts herself off with a guttural moan as she comes hard, her entire body trembling while the brunette continues to greedily lap at her center, helping her come down from her high, as Lauren rests her forehead on the headboard tiredly, chest heaving and legs weak.

Eventually, it becomes too much for Lauren and she grips Camila’s hair to keep her head still. “Fuck, hold on. I can’t –” she whimpers as she slowly gets off of the smaller girl, unceremoniously falling on her back beside Camila, who just smirks at the dark-haired girl’s state as she wipes her face, wet with Lauren’s arousal, with the back of her hand. The older girl’s eyes are lidded and her limbs look limp while she tries to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily. She brings an arm over her eyes when she sees Camila watching her with a teasing smile. “I think you broke me,” she chuckles.

Camila laughs a full-bodied laugh, falling back on the bed herself. “I’ll let you recover then,” she teases.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Lauren turns to her side and faces Camila with a dazed smile, “You’re good at that.”

“Why thank you,” Camila replies with a smile of her own, mirroring the dark-haired girl’s position and adjusting her body to face the girl.

She takes in Lauren’s features and finds herself being mesmerized by the girl’s sheer beauty. Her green eyes are never just green, showing vivid variations of emerald with specks of brown and yellow spattered around it, sometimes turning grey depending on her mood. Right now, they’re as bright as ever and it pulls Camila in the same way the sea withdraws back from the shore, helpless against the tide and the pull of the moon, despite venturing as far as it can along the seaside.

Her brown eyes trail down the slope of Lauren’s nose and roam over the freckles on her face, more noticeable now that her face is free of make up. Camila bites her lip when her eyes land on Lauren’s plump and swollen ones, already missing it between her own teeth.

Lauren is breathtakingly beautiful and Camila willingly gives up the air around her to keep staring.

The girl is everything Camila does to remind herself that she’s alive. She’s the toxin running through her system that reminds the brunette that she can feel. Her touch is like the night air that prickles at her skin, alighting her nerves. Lauren is the air that gets sucked out of her lungs, only to rush back in an exhilarating speed, reminding her to breathe. Even when she can’t. Even when at times, she doesn’t want to.

Lauren keeps her grounded - her personal sanctuary against the troubles of her own mind.

The thought scares Camila and she breaks their staring contest, willing her heart rate to slow down, trying to keep it in its confines instead of willingly giving itself up to someone she knows she’s bound to hurt. She knows she’s not ready and she probably never will be.

She leans forward and starts to kiss down Lauren’s jaw, trying to distract herself the only way she knows best. “So, where were you today?” she mumbles against Lauren’s skin, her kisses and warm breath immediately sending goose bumps where her mouth is latched on the girl’s skin.

Lauren hesitates for a bit, before she breathes out, “I was visiting my mom.”

“Oh, she’s in town?” the brunette asks, continuing her mouth’s path down the column of the girl’s throat, bringing a hand to lightly run up and down the green-eyed girl’s sides.

“No,” Lauren says with a shaky breath, her body easily responding to Camila’s ministrations, still sensitive from her previous high. “She’s in the hospital.”

Camila pauses in her movements and pulls back with concerned eyes, despite every cell in her body urging her to let it go and go back to pleasuring Lauren. That’s the foundation of their agreement after all. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely.

Lauren meets her eyes and the brunette can see a flash of sadness taint her favorite shade of green. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” the dark-haired girl says after a few moments of getting lost in Camila’s eyes. She diverts her gaze and the brunette takes the hint, moving to straddle her instead.

“Well then, let’s do something else,” she smirks as she leans down and captures Lauren’s lips in a hungry kiss.

–

Lauren throws a punch that easily gets caught by Zayn’s hands and she lets out a groan as the boy holds onto her arm and twists his body to propel her to the ground, her back landing on the mat with a loud thud.

Zayn lets out a laugh as he waits for the girl to stand up. “Little rusty there, Jauregui,” he says with a smirk.

Lauren stands up with a determined look and gets into position as they move around one another, gauging each other’s next move. Zayn quickly shuffles towards the raven-haired girl, throwing a rapid one-two punch combo that the girl easily blocks. When he surges forward with a roundhouse kick, Lauren catches his leg and sweeps his other leg with a hard kick, sending the boy hard on his back.

“Fuck,” Zayn groans as he rolls over slowly, trying to get back up.

“Apparently, not as rusty as you,” Lauren says with a smirk of her own.

Lauren and Zayn are catching up while doing their favorite pastime together - kickboxing. Their gear is minimal, only consisting of sparring headgear and kickboxing gloves. It’s late so they’re the only two people in the gym, and they’re taking advantage of it by setting up a few mats to create a makeshift dojo.

This is how they’d always released steam and pent up frustration when they attended university together – by punching and kicking it out on a few dummies and when they got over that – by punching and kicking it out on each other. Years of training one another, coupled with their hyper-competitive nature, have taught them to be very proficient in the sport, knowing how to hit hard enough to rile the other person up while having enough self-control to prevent themselves from hurting each other too much.

They’d meet up at the gym when Zayn was frustrated with his family pressuring him to take over the company or whenever Lauren needed to vent about her father. She’d learn who he was after snooping around her mom’s old stuff. Finding out about his identity only made Lauren resent him even more. She found out that he’s a big-shot businessman that owns a major hotel chain and he didn’t even bother sending a single penny for child support, opting to leave Lauren and her mom to fend for themselves while he indulged and spoiled his real family, who remains clueless about his indiscretions.

Lauren’s adrenaline is through the roof, the pain non-existent right now. She can feel the cells of her body thrumming with energy as she stands in the dojo, strands of her hair matted to her head as sweat glistens off of her toned midsection, most of her body exposed as she’s only wearing a sports bra and spandex shorts. She can feel her heart hammer against her chest as it tries to supply blood through her body, keeping up with her exertion, and her eyes focus on nothing but the boy in front of her, everything else, blurred in the background.

“You look happy,” Zayn quips as he fends off a series of quick punches from the raven-haired girl, managing to duck out of the corner he was being backed into.

“Am I not allowed to?” Lauren pants as she keeps a close eye on Zayn’s movements.

“Just wondering.”

Lauren smiles to herself when she sees an opening. She twists her body to deliver a spinning back kick but Zayn swiftly catches her leg. Lauren thinks quickly and pushes herself off the floor on her other foot, using that leg to kick the boy on his side, sending them both toppling to the ground. Zayn quickly scrambles to get on top of the girl, fighting the pain spreading through his side where the girl delivered a massive hit, and immediately straddling her. When he moves to lock her arm in an arm bar however, Lauren deftly twists her body out of the way, managing to kick the boy off of her.

They both rush to their feet, swiftly getting in the proper stance as they try to catch their breaths. “Well,” Lauren starts. “My mom’s recovering, I have a job I love, I’m getting paid well,” she lists the good things happening in her life as she moves around the boy, still trying to catch her breath. “I have new friends, and I have you guys back in my life. What’s not to love?” she shrugs.

“Uh-huh,” the boy responds skeptically. “Those things and the fact that you’re getting laid,” he adds with a wide grin.

Lauren lunges for him and aims low, tackling him to the mat and just as she’s about to unleash several punches, Zayn catches her arms and flips them over before he moves to get off of her.

He shakes his head as he laughs, “You’re so predictable, Lauren.”

“It’s none of your business, Malik,” she growls as she stands up.

“As long as you’re happy, bud,” he says while raising his arms in surrender.

They continue to spar for a few more moments, Lauren getting in a couple of hard jabs at Zayn’s face and smirking at the boy’s frustration – Zayn had always been the stronger of the two, but she was definitely faster, before they both decide to start packing up as it is nearing midnight.

They’re both on the floor, stuffing their duffel bags with their workout clothes when Lauren decides to speak.

“Her name’s Camila,” she keeps her eyes trained on her task while Zayn looks up, raising an eyebrow at Lauren’s sudden admission. The way the girl’s name falls from her lips, wrapped in Lauren’s tender tone, lets Zayn know this girl is something special. He smiles at his friend.

“Pretty name.”

“Even prettier girl.”

Zayn lets out a loud laugh as he throws his head back. “Wow, didn’t think you’d turned into a sap, Jauregui.”

“Shut up,” Lauren snaps lightheartedly. “This is why I don’t tell you anything,” she says as she throws a pair of gloves at the boy, who’s too busy laughing to fend off the incoming attack, causing him to get hit right in the face.

“Damn, Laur,” he whines. “Not the face. You know that’s my moneymaker.”

The raven-haired girl rolls her eyes as she gets ready to get up.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs as he tries to pull the girl back down. “Tell me about your girl.”

There’s a small blush that forms on the girl’s pale cheeks as she diverts her eyes. “Well she’s super smart, feisty, bossy, determined,” Lauren starts to get into describing what she likes about the girl as her eyes light up and her hands move wildly in front of her, trying to keep up with all the things she wants to say. “And –and, she’s got this whole, like, thing where she acts like this cold-hearted bitch, but she’s actually genuinely kind. I’ve seen it in the way she treats her friends and even strangers,” she finishes with a small smile, thinking about all the times she’s witnessed Camila being kind, contrary to what her employees might gossip about her.

“Wow, your girlfriend sounds like the real deal.”

Lauren’s smile falters at that as she plays with the straps on her bag. “We’re not together,” she mutters.

“Oh.”

“It’s like a friends-with-benefits kind of thing,” she shrugs. “We’re good in bed together.”

Zayn scans his friend’s face, noting the way her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, her body stiff and her fingers curled tightly around her bag, as if her entire body is rejecting the nonchalance in her words. “Lo…” he starts to say and his tone irks Lauren more than anything.

“I’m not a kid, I know what I’m doing,” she huffs in irritation, quickly gathering her stuff as she rushes to get up.

“I hope so.”

–

Camila sits in the backseat of her Audi A7 with a box of cake sitting on her lap, while Alfred sends her worried glances through the rearview mirror every once in a while. She wants to tell him that she’ll be okay, that he doesn’t need to fret so much, but even she knows that’s a hard sell to make. It’s always difficult for her when she confronts parts of the accident head-on, but this is something she had been planning for a while and she really doesn’t want to back out now.

She looks out the window, noting how Manhattan’s tall skyscrapers give way to less populated areas as they move into one of the few, rare rural pockets of the city. She relishes at the sight of bare trees instead of glass buildings and basks in the low rumble of the car as the tires roll over dirt roads in place of paved cement.

The area surrounding her is a stark contrast to the bustling city life that she’s used to. In place of the never-ending crowd filling the streets and the endless traffic of cabs and cars and buses, Camila can only see rows and rows of cornfields, the occasional farmhouse every few acres, and nothing but the sky and trees beyond. It’s not as lively or loud or bright as central Manhattan, yet it bristles with a life of its own. Camila can imagine the kind of carefree life people out here must be able to live – only following the rise and fall of the sun as their main indicator of the ever-passing time, not having to worry about deadlines and the eternal pressure of pleasing the higher-ups.

She thinks about how people that live in this area probably see a night sky full of stars, instead of the bright lights of city structures, how the air they breathe isn’t filled with the toxins of pollution.

Camila takes a deep breath when a familiar small house comes to view as Alfred slows the car down to stop just outside of its driveway, bundles of overgrown weed peeking through the cracked cement. Her throat suddenly feels dry as she stares at the quaint house, looking very intimidating to Camila despite its small size. The air around her doesn’t seem as peaceful and carefree anymore, rather heavy and almost suffocating as she rubs her hands on her jeans, trying to keep her trembling knees from knocking the cake off her lap.

“Are you sure you you don’t want me to stay and wait, Miss Cabello?” Alfred’s gentle voice stirs Camila out of getting too stuck in her head and she looks at her driver through the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure, Alfred. I don’t want you to wait here and get bored. You can drive around and grab dinner. Just come get me in a couple hours or so. I’ll text you.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he says as he gets out of the car and rounds it to open Camila’s door, helping the girl to climb out without dropping the box.

“Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Camila takes a few moments to calm her nerves at the door, before finally raising a trembling hand to ring the doorbell, counting the time that passes by the thunderous beating of her heart. Her worries dispel like the morning fog giving way to the early light when she’s met with the wide smile of one Darryl Hampton.

“Camila! Oh my goodness,” the older man beams as he opens the screen door and holds his arms open for the girl. The brunette happily embraces him - as well as she can anyway with the box in between them, and basks in the comfort of his soothing presence. His aura is something Camila had always admired, always light and happy, regardless of whatever life may have thrown his way.

Darryl Hampton is a retired truck driver that is now living on his pension and Social Security benefits. He has a long, slender built, towering over Camila at a little over six feet. His light brown skin contrasts against the powder white beard on his time-weathered face, spattered with sporadic blemishes and a noticeable elongated scar by his forehead. His eyes are of different colors, one a striking blend of hazel and green, the other, a dull, glazed light shade of grey, its irregular movements and inability to focus, a sign of its lack of use.

Camila pulls back and smiles widely at the man, merry and lively even after everything he’s been through. “Well I thought I’d drop by and greet you on your birthday,” she says while presenting the box in her hands.

Darryl laughs, a bellowing sound that comes deep from his belly, unfiltered and unadulterated as he moves to the side to let Camila inside. The brunette looks around once she’s through the doorway and can’t help but marvel at the sheer life inside the house. Darryl lives on his own, but that didn’t stop him from decorating his house, small as it may be, in a way that matches his buoyant and lively personality. On his mantle are several framed photographs of his three children, all sporting various-colored graduation caps, next to them, his wedding picture with his late wife, his face the epitome of happiness and love as he looks at his wife with an adoration one only hears about in romance novels and cliché movies.

His living room has two antique couches, well-used and yet still giving off the impression that it has aged gracefully with the passage of time, much like the room that houses it. All around the living area are various mementos from the countless cities that Darryl has visited as a truck driver who constantly travelled across the expanse of mainland America – trinkets and beads and masquerade masks from the Crescent City, framed paintings from street artists in California, and even totem pole carvings and Native American pottery from when he visited tribal sites in his long drives. The souvenirs lie all around the place, orchestrated in such a way that makes the place look like an organized mess, a perfect representation of its owner.

“You are too sweet, darling” his voice booms across the air loudly, yet with the right amount of gentleness that makes it sound rather soothing. He moves to the kitchen to unpack the cake and place a couple slices on two plates for them to eat as Camila makes herself comfortable on one of the couches.

“Well I know all your children are living across the country, and so I thought I could keep you company on your special day,” she replies through the small doorway that separates the kitchen from the living area.

Darryl walks in with a tray containing two small plates, each with a slice of the cake the brunette brought, as well as two glasses of orange juice. “Well, I’d say that I definitely don’t mind,” he says with a smile as he sets the tray down and and hands Camila her plate, who takes it with a grateful smile. “So tell me, how have you been?”

The question is a loaded one. Camila knows what he’s asking but she’s never ready to answer this kind of inquiry. He means to say, How have you been since the accident? She diverts for a moment, giving the answer she knows in her heart he’s not really interested in.

“Well you know, very busy at work. It’s hard having business tycoons as parents and being a woman in power nowadays, but nothing I can’t handle,” she shrugs with an easy smile, trying to ease the man’s worries without having to go into detail.

“Ah, of course. You’ve always seemed like the go-getter type,” he chuckles, expecting the diversion but he figures he’ll try again in a little bit, for now, he’s glad to see that the girl looks much happier than the last time he’s seen her. “Well, that’s good to hear. I wanna you show you something!” he claps his hands excitedly as he moves to stand, leaving the room for a few moments and Camila is grateful at the reprieve.

“Now see, this is what I’ve been up to now that I have the time. Driving for all my life, I never got to do my real passion, you know?” he walks back in carrying a large canvas. Darryl was forced to retire earlier than planned after the accident. The crash had damaged his left eye permanently, leading him to lose complete vision in that eye. Coupled with his old age, the loss of depth perception led his supervisors to determine that he was no longer able to drive safely for long periods of time.

He was devastated with the news, at first. His wife was gone and all his kids live far away from home – driving was the only thing he had in his life. Eventually however, he learned to take the newfound freedom to do what he likes and rediscover old passions. He started working on his house, growing his own garden, and recently, getting back into painting – a passion he couldn’t pursue before because he had a family to feed at a very young age.

Now that he’s living comfortably on pension and some benefits, he’s found a new life.

Camila studies the painting and is in absolute awe at the raw emotion portrayed in it. It’s a black and white painting, but the intricate shading and detail that surround it makes it look more like a real-life photograph. The painting shows a self-portrait of Darryl – curved lines running along the wrinkles of his face and elaborate blending outlining the shape of his face, highlighting some areas more than others and making it seem like he’s under a varied set of lighting. There’s a minute, but noticeable curve of his lips, indicating a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Despite the lack of color, you can tell the difference between his two eyes. One of them has a lighter, somewhat duller shade, the small but distinct nuance showcasing the difference between the two orbs and Camila can’t help but focus on it.

“I had a lot of trouble coming to terms with my new self after the accident you know,” Darryl’s voice pulls Camila’s eyes from the painting. “I really struggled to cope with losing my sight on one eye and with what came with that, losing my job. It’s like I had lost a part of my identity. And then, I stood back and looked at what I had – what I have in spite of everything you know?”

Camila watches him as he speaks with utter sincerity, looking at the portrait of himself as if he was reliving the day that he had painted it.

“I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself and thought long and hard about how lucky I am. I’m lucky to be alive and I’ve worked hard enough to secure myself a nice pension. Like I said before, now I actually have the time to go back on my passion. Looking at myself in that mirror and rediscovering myself in a new light,” he focuses his gaze on Camila. “I learned that I may have a lost a lot of things, but I also gained so much more, and I thought, I should document this somehow. To remind myself of the moment I realized that I was – that I am lucky. Sometimes, all it takes is a bit of time with yourself. Talk to your mind, listen to your heart – have a moment of honesty with yourself, without the noise of the people around you and you’ll find what matters most, that peace you’re looking for.”

He pauses for a bit as he brings a gentle hand to wipe the tears that have started to fall on Camila’s cheeks. “I know that night still haunts all of us - you probably more than anyone else because you tend to be hard on yourself. But, darling, you deserve some peace in that heart of yours. So take the time to appreciate yourself, okay?”

The brunette can only nod as she looks on with a watery smile.

They catch up a bit more after Camila recovers from that emotional (albeit one-sided) conversation, Darryl telling stories of his old travels and how he’s adjusted to his new life while Camila tells him how not much has changed for her, with their family business still her main and only priority at the moment.

“You know,” Darryl says with glint in his eyes. “You do seem a bit happier than when I last saw you.”

There’s a light blush that forms on Camila’s cheeks as she diverts her eyes from the man’s prying ones, fiddling with her fingers when she answers. “Well you know, I’ve got my family and friends to keep me busy,” she shrugs.

“Uh huh,” he answers with a knowing smirk. “Any particular special friends?”

Camila can feel the heat intensifying on her cheeks and she doesn’t know why she does, but she finds herself answering truthfully. Maybe it’s because of Darryl’s naturally soothing voice, pulling the truth out of her, or maybe it’s the comfort she feels with him, somehow feeling safe with their shared struggles.

“Maybe there is someone,” she says with a small smile. “It’s nothing serious though, but for now, I’m happy,” she says as she looks up and meets the man’s caring eyes.

“Well that’s the best news I’ve gotten in a while!” he exclaims excitedly, making Camila smile at his enthusiasm. “You deserve to be happy.” The brunette becomes teary-eyed once again and looks down on her lap.

“Hey,” he says gently as he puts one arm around her shoulders and uses the other to lift her chin up so she can meet his eyes. “You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.” And the conviction in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes tug at Camila’s heart, making her believe even if just for a fleeting moment, that maybe she does deserve happiness.

Camila spends time at Darryl’s home for longer than she had intended, getting lost in the easy conversation and finding comfort in the man’s company. They bid their goodbyes when it’s nearing eleven at night and separate with promises to stay in contact. The brunette finds herself contemplating about the things Darryl had said to her with such great assuredness, his confident words racing in her mind on an endless loop, as Alfred drives her back to her apartment.

You deserve to be happy.

Do I? she thinks to herself.

She doesn’t even understand why she survived of all people in the first place. There were others that had greater potential, their entire lives ahead of them. Their lives were taken, their livelihoods ruined, their future squandered, while she walked away with nothing but a few scars to show for it. It wasn’t her life that was drastically changed. Why does she get this second chance and not the others?

It’s like everyone else can see something in her that she can’t seem to see for herself. Everyone keeps telling her that she deserves happiness but she finds it hard to believe when all she can think about is how much she could have done more. Helped more – saved more people. She could have tried harder. Worked faster.

What would happiness even mean for her? What does that even entail?

Her mind conjures up images of green eyes and soft smiles and tender touches.

Lauren.

She thinks about how the girl has unknowingly whittled through her defenses. How her mere presence and her touch had kept Camila grounded during those times when all she wanted to do was get lost in her thoughts, consumed by her mind.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. Her mind is a constant mess. She can’t even keep up with it herself and she firmly believes that no one deserves to be burdened with her troubles. Especially not Lauren, who’s full of life and passion. Camila is only going to be her ruin, and she’s let enough people down in this lifetime.

If Camila had only taken the time to truly look into her mind and into her heart, maybe she would have recognized that she’d started to do what Darryl had told her about. She would have seen that her heart, though damaged and struggling to keep beating tirelessly, is slowly healing – its shattered pieces being held together by the bits and pieces of Camila’s life that constantly give her hope, even if she doesn’t realize it: her family, Dinah, Ally – Lauren.

If she’d only take the time to realize how much lighter she’d felt in the last couple weeks, maybe she’d recognize that she would have never kept anybody – outside of her family and Dinah and Ally – in her life for as long as she’d kept Lauren thus far, and that alone is a sign that she’s letting herself heal.

She can’t help it when her thoughts take her back to that night, especially after seeing Darryl again after so long.

Camila can’t breathe. Well, actually, she can. It’s just extremely fucking painful to do so.

Every breath she takes is labored. It feels like all her airways are blocked as she inhales the clouds of dark smoke, the fumes infiltrating her system without her consent and sending a searing surge of pain straight into her lungs. Her chest feels like it’s on fire, in fact, with all the smoke surrounding her, she thinks it may be because it literally is.

Her eyelids feel heavy as she struggles to peel them open, the action sending a brand new wave of discomfort on her face. The heat surrounding her dims her focus and she squints through the darkness to try to make something of her surroundings. She realizes she’s still in her car and when she looks to her right, her neck protesting at the movement, she sees the broken windshield of another car, the driver’s seat jarringly empty. She lifts a hand to her head when she feels a bout of pain rush in her temples and brings her hand down to inspect it. Sure enough, her fingers are red with blood.

With shaky hands, Camila tries to slowly take off her seat belt, struggling to free herself from the contraption as it proves almost unmovable from the buckle. She fumbles for an army knife that she keeps in the glove compartment and pulls it out, slicing through her belt and finally giving her chest some reprieve from the confining restraint. She tucks the knife in her pocket and pushes her door open, rolling out of her car and ungracefully stumbling into the cement, finding out the hard way that her limbs are more injured than she originally thought as she catches herself on her hands, the rough cement digging painfully onto her bruised skin.

As she crawls away from her car, she hears a couple cries for help and looks up to see that there is an another car (aside from the one without the driver) and a semi truck involved in the crash, the truck tipped over and lying on its right side. She ignores the protest of her body as she struggles to get up, limping towards the other car while she looks around desperately.

They’re on their own, she thinks. They’re in the middle of a deserted intersection at night with no other life in sight. They’re on the verge of blowing up and the silence around them is deafening. She can’t make out anybody in the other car as it’s crushed between her own car and the semi so she tries to see who’s inside the truck.

As she approaches the truck, the strong pungent smell of gasoline filters through her nose and it only makes her try to move faster. She’s seen enough action movies to know what’s coming. She tries to rid herself of these thoughts and focuses on what’s in front of her.

Camila spots an older African-American man still sat in his seat, almost dangling from it and only being held by his seatbelt, preventing him from toppling to the ground as the semi precariously lies on its side.

She musters whatever strength remains in her body and climbs up to the top, using the grooves at the bottom of the truck and the tire to pull herself up so she’s sitting right on the driver’s door. She moves to the side a little so she can yank it open, holding it up on one hand, while using her other hand to shake the man awake.

“Sir,” she coughs out as she tries to rouse him. There’s blood running alongside his head as he slowly tries flutter his eyes open. She notices that his left eye stays shut, swollen and bruised with blood trickling out of its sides. Her eyes catch on badge attached near his hip.

Darryl Hampton.

“Darryl,” the sound of his name spurs him out of his unconsciousness even more. “I’m going to need you to brace yourself, okay? Hold onto something and get your legs ready to catch yourself when I take off your seatbelt,” she tries to tell him as gently as possible, yet with a hint of urgency.

“Yeah, okay,” he croaks out. He spread out his arms to hold onto where he can while he lifts his legs slowly to settle on the middle console and the headrest of the passenger seat, wincing in pain at the movement but holding on anyway. Camila, with one hand still holding the door open, uses the other to cut through the man’s seatbelt, freeing him from its restrictions. Darryl’s position is awkward and strained as he tries to stay upright in the turned over vehicle so Camila works fast. She rolls the window down and then closes the door so she can use both hands.

“Here, give me your hand and we’ll get you through this window opening,” she says with a strained voice as she braces herself on top of the door, kneeling down and extending her arms to the man. The man nods and puts his arms through the open window, half holding onto Camila and half grabbing onto the sides of the door. When he uses his foot to push himself up however, they underestimate just how much he weighs (or just as probable, how weakened they both are from the accident) and he loses his footing, abruptly falling down and slipping from Camila’s grasp as he lands with a thud on his side, the sound of glass crunching filling the air.

“Fuck!” Camila hisses as she’s dragged down and the movement causes her upper left chest to catch on a shard of glass, gashing straight through her shirt and slashing her skin, causing a deep, ragged cut to form on her chest and fresh blood to ooze out. She barely manages to catch herself on the door so she doesn’t fall all the way through the open window. She rolls on her back in pain and puts a hand on her chest, wincing in pain. “Are you okay, sir?!” she yells out while she tries to re-gather her strength.

“Yeah,” the man answers in a gruff voice. She hears shuffling beneath her and moves to get in position again. This time, the man is almost fully stood up, his feet settled on the passenger side door instead of the seat so he’s more stable. Camila reaches down and bears the pain in her chest when the movement causes the cut on her skin to get just the tiny bit wider. “Okay, let’s try again.”

They connect arms, and with the strength left in her, she pulls up with all her might as she braces both feet down on the door. Her labor is aided by Darryl’s effort to climb out of the window and they find themselves stumbling onto the top. “We have to get off this real quick” Camila huffs, beginning to climb down from the top, with Darryl close behind.

They put an arm over one another’s shoulders as they limp together away from the crash site, before Camila finally lets go and the man falls on his back on the side of the road, exhaustion filling his battered features. “Call 911,” she says as she pulls out her phone and dials the emergency line, handing it over to the man afterwards. “I’m gonna go see if I can find the others,” she says without waiting for a response and limping back to the scene.

Her clothes are soaked in gasoline, her skin littered with cuts and covered with grime and soot, and her mind is muddled as she stumbles back, but all she can focus on is the pounding of her own heart in her ears. It sounds absolutely earsplitting against the silence around her. There is no one around and she doesn’t know if she’ll be enough to save the others.

She prays for the time she knows she doesn’t have as she lugs her tired bones back to the site.

Camila wipes the tears from her face as she takes a shaky breath to calm herself as she recalls the night, her visit and talk with Darryl prompting a vivid recollection of her worst nightmare.

She closes her eyes as she tries to compose herself and leans forward, gently tapping Alfred on his shoulder. “Hey, can you actually take me Lauren’s?” she asks softly as the man briefly meets her eyes through the rearview mirror and gives her a slight nod.

“Sure thing, Miss Cabello,” he says with a small smile as he maneuvers the car to make a swift U-turn while Camila leans back on her seat, feeling like she can breathe again at the thought of seeing the green-eyed girl.

***

A/N:

I promise there won’t be smut in every chapter. I meant for half of them to only be short, fade out scenes to establish their fwb relationship but then I ended up writing in the detail and it’s just aasdfgf. So yeah, there is more to the plot.

As always, feel free to leave a vote/comment/feedback if you feel like it. Tell me what you think!

Hope everyone enjoys their holidays/break!

-Maddox

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #Hold Over My Heart

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