#because this fic contains a whole lot of cheese

[olddirtybadfic]

You Got Played: Seto's Love Life Tears the Kaiba Brothers Apart (Part Two of Five)

A wise man once said, "You know what this story needs? A love triangle!"

Part one is here.

This fic contains: Teen!me laboring under the delusion that Bandit Keith is the same age as Yugi and company; song lyrics inserted into the prose; mpreg fakeout scene (bonus "even pregnancy of the male variety does not work that way" content); vomit mention; Bandit Keith being a prick; everybody is kind of an idiot; Kaiba and Yugi dueling in bed without cards to “Cotton Eye Joe”; author’s notes to give track listings; condom mention; cheating; terrible OC; Noah Kaiba somehow being alive and bizarrely invested in his brother’s romantic life; old people bingo hall fight; Blue Eyes White Dragon underwear as a plot point

-O-o-O-o-O-

When Kaiba got home, he had nothing else to do. Doing the nasty with Keith had taken a lot out of him, so his first stop was the refrigerator.

Mokuba entered the room as Kaiba was making a sandwich out of cheese whiz, mayonnaise, pickles and, oddly enough, chocolate.

“Seto, what’s with the weird food?” Mokuba asked.

“I was just really hungry,” Kaiba answered.

“You’re never really hungry.”

“Doing it with Keith must have taken a lot out of me.”

“WHAAT?!”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You DID IT WITH KEITH?! HOLY HELL!”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Mokuba.”

“Yes, it is! Noah’s gonna be pissed off!”

“No, he’s not, because you’re not going to tell him.”

“But-”

“Please, Mokuba? I don’t want Noah getting mad at Keith and trying to beat him down.” Kaiba attempted to use “puppy eyes” on Mokuba.

It actually worked. “All right! I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.”

After Kaiba finished his sandwich (and a whole bunch of other food), he went to bed.

The next morning, Kaiba ended up paying for overeating by having to run back and forth to the bathroom to either puke or defecate. This started at about five o’ clock in the morning. Later in the morning, Kaiba was perfectly fine.

He reflected on what happened the night before. He knew Mokuba would keep his secret for him. He also knew that he couldn’t tell Noah, at least not right that moment.

“I can’t tell Noah right now. It would worry him too much. Plus, he might try to beat up Keith, thinking that Keith raped me. I don’t want to start any drama.”

Later that day, Keith and Kaiba were actually going out in the daytime for once. They were sitting in a hidden spot in the park.

Keith was looking around, nervously, knowing that Kyra could come walking by at any minute.

Kaiba was leaning his head on Keith’s shoulder. Normally, Kaiba didn’t do this, but Keith made him so happy that he kissed Keith on the cheek. Keith put his arm around Kaiba’s waist. Keith noticed how slender and delicate Kaiba was compared to himself.

A few minutes later, Kaiba left, saying he had to go to the bathroom, but he’d be back.

While Kaiba was in the bathroom, Kyra had stopped to talk to Keith. Noah and Mokuba had gone to the park and were walking by them.

“The weather’s really good today,” Noah was saying, until Mokuba stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asked.

“Look,” Mokuba said.

Keith and Kyra were making out, and they were in a very interesting position, with Kyra wrapping her legs around Keith….

“Holy crap….” was all Noah could say. “Isn’t he on a date with Seto right now?”

“Yeah, but we can’t tell Seto,” Mokuba said.

“Why the hell not?! He has the right to know that his boyfriend’s a player,” Noah said.

“But Seto’s so happy! Why should we ruin it? What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?” Mokuba retorted.

“Listen, Mokuba, I want Seto to be happy just as much as you do, but he deserves to know the truth about Keith,” Noah said. “I just hope he hasn’t gone and done something stupid, like having sex with Keith.”

Mokuba stared over at Noah out of the corner of his eye. “That ship has already sailed,” he thought.

By the time Kaiba was finished in the bathroom, Kyra had left. Keith was still waiting on the bench. Kaiba sat down next to Keith. They moved in closer to each other and began to kiss. It was at this moment that Keith realized how different Kaiba’s and Kyra’s kissing was. Kyra always kissed him for a really long time and she used her tongue. Her kisses were long, steamy, and passionate. Kaiba’s kisses, on the other hand, were usually short and he never used his tongue.

“Oh, Ky, your kisses are so hot,” Keith muttered.

Kaiba stopped kissing Keith and looked directly up at him. “Did you just call me ‘Kai?’”

“Oh, shit, I just said that out loud,” Keith thought. “Uh….yeah.”

“Keith, that’s cute, but I’m not sure if I like pet names,” Kaiba said.

“Okay, then, I won’t call you ‘Kai’ if you don’t like it.” Then Keith remembered something. “I just remembered, I have to do some stuff tonight, so I won’t be able to see you.”

“It’s okay,” Kaiba said. “I should probably stay in and catch up on my sleep, anyway.”

So Keith walked Kaiba home.

-O-o-O-

When Kaiba went into the mansion, he heard the sounds of Mokuba and Noah having an argument of sorts.

“We have to tell him, Mokuba! He needs to hear the truth!” Noah was saying.

“But it would make him really mad! We can’t tell Seto that!” Mokuba protested.

Kaiba walked into the room. “What can’t you tell me?!”

“Seto, today we saw Keith making out with a girl in the park and we saw her and Keith on a date in the mall yesterday,” Noah said.

Mokuba covered his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his brother fly into a rage at the news. When he heard nothing, he looked up. Kaiba wasn’t raging. He was just standing there, looking shocked, somewhat angry, and a little hurt.

“Why would you say something like that about Keith?” Kaiba asked in a dangerously calm, quiet voice.

“Because it’s true,” Noah answered.

“No, you’d say something like that because you don’t like him. Why don’t you just grow up and let me go out with whoever I want and STAY OUT OF MY BUSINESS?!” Kaiba’s voice got increasingly louder until he was shrieking.

“Seto! Keith is cheating on you! Hasn’t he ever slipped up and called you by the wrong name, or something?”

“No, he hasn’t! If he was lying to me, I’d be able to tell, Noah!”

“You can’t tell when someone’s lying all the time, Seto! He’s going out with another girl! He’s playing you like X-box!”

“YOU LIE!” Kaiba screamed, running to his room.

“Seto!” Mokuba ran after him, but not before he gave Noah a look that said, “I told you so.”

In his room, Kaiba was pacing around his bed, feeling extremely pissed off.

“How could he?! How could Noah even think of accusing Keith of cheating?!” Kaiba thought angrily.

Mokuba entered Kaiba’s room.

“Seto?” he started.

“Can you believe him, Mokuba? He has the nerve to tell me all that bull about Keith cheating on me. Does he think I’m a moron? Did he really expect me to believe that?”

“Well, I don’t know….”

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Kaiba asked, surprised at the possibility that Mokuba could believe Noah.

“Not really,” Mokuba answered. “Listen, Seto, maybe you should just calm down. I’m sure Noah didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he didn’t,” Kaiba said, lying down.

-O-o-O-

Lately, that week, Kaiba noticed that Keith had been ignoring him. For the past five or six days, Keith had not seen Kaiba. They hadn’t gone out together or seen each other on the streets. Keith had not even called Kaiba.

“Could Noah be right about him?” Kaiba thought. “No! That’s preposterous! Why would Keith want to cheat? I can’t believe I even thought for a second that Noah was right.”

Later that afternoon, Mokuba walked into Kaiba’s room to see what he was doing. Kaiba had taped a poorly-drawn crayon picture of Noah to the wall and was currently blowing spit balls at it. There was a huge target drawn over Noah’s crotch.

“Seto, what are you doing?” Mokuba asked.

“I’m getting out all my anger without actually harming Noah,” Kaiba answered. He put another piece of paper in his mouth, stuck it in the straw and blew it out. It landed right on the target.

“Have you two even talked to each other?” Mokuba asked. Kaiba didn’t answer because he was too busy doing a victory dance that involved him trying to do the Harlem Shake, but failing horribly.

“Now what are you doing?” Mokuba asked, trying not to laugh at Kaiba’s horrible dancing.

“I’m doing my victory dance. I hit the target.”

Kaiba stopped dancing, put on his boots, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m bored. I’m going for a walk,” Kaiba said, going out the door.

-O-o-O-

Yugi was bored.

He was walking down the street, just looking for something to do. It was his grandad’s bingo night and his cousin, Yami, had gone with him because he likes games. Yugi had chosen to do something else.

“It’s times like these that make me wish I had a girlfriend,” Yugi thought jokingly.

Kaiba just happened to be walking down the same street at the same time. He was starting to calm down over his altercation with Noah. Now he was just bored and wanting something to do.

Kaiba and Yugi ran into each other—literally. Yugi was walking past and he didn’t see Kaiba because it was dark and Kaiba was wearing black. Kaiba was walking and staring straight ahead, so he didn’t see Yugi because he didn’t look down. Yugi accidentally put his foot out too far to the left; Kaiba tripped on it and ended up on the ground.

“OW!” Kaiba yelled.

“Oh, crap! Kaiba, I’m sorry, let me help you up,” Yugi said, going over to Kaiba.

“Yugi, it’s okay. I can get up on my own. I guess I shouldn’t have worn black at night, huh?” Kaiba said, getting to his feet.

“No, I should’ve been watching where I was going,” Yugi said.

They both walked together for a while.

“So…do you wanna come back to the game shop and duel with me?” Yugi asked.

“Sure,” Kaiba answered.

Kaiba and Yugi made their way to the game shop. They weren’t exactly in the shop, because they were in Yugi’s room. They had decided to duel the old-fashioned way, without an arena or duel disks (Kaiba hadn’t brought his anyway).

Kaiba ended up losing to Yugi. Fortunately, he didn’t go all psycho over it.

“I always lose to you,” Kaiba said, shuffling his deck. He looked a little annoyed.

“Losing isn’t that bad,” Yugi said, trying to cheer Kaiba up.

Yugi’s large lavender eyes met Kaiba’s blue ones. Their faces got closer and closer, until……

Yugi and Kaiba began to kiss.

After a few seconds, Kaiba pulled away, saying, “No…I can’t do this….Keith wouldn’t like it.”

Yugi stopped. “How is your relationship with Keith, anyway?”

Kaiba looked somewhat upset, so Yugi started to regret asking the question. “He’s been ignoring me for some reason…I don’t know why. I think he’s losing interest in me,” Kaiba muttered.

“That’s awful! I knew Keith was low-down, but that’s just not right,” Yugi said, angrily.

Kaiba was surprised. He didn’t think Yugi cared that much about their relationship.

“If Keith is thinking about breaking up with you, he’s a loser. He doesn’t deserve you,” Yugi said.

“Thanks,” Kaiba said. “You know, Yugi, Keith doesn’t have to know about us kissing. So, if you want to continue, it’s okay with me.”

Yugi’s face brightened and his eyes gleamed mischievously. “I’d like to continue…I’d really like to continue.”

One thing led to another, and pretty soon, their clothes were off, and…���unlock the power of your imagination to guess what happened next.

‘If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I’d-a been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?’ (author's note: Cotton Eye Joe - Rednex)

When they were done….doing their thing, Yugi noticed that the protective device that he was using had burst. “Uh, Kaiba, our ‘protection’ broke.”

Kaiba sighed. “What else is new?”

“So, was this your first time?” Yugi asked.

Kaiba hesitated to answer. He didn’t know if he should tell Yugi about what he did with Keith.

From Kaiba’s silence, Yugi could tell what Kaiba was thinking. “It was Keith, wasn’t it? He was the one who took your virginity, wasn’t he?” Yugi asked.

“I swore I’d never tell you this, but yes. He was,” Kaiba answered.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about it. It just really makes me mad how he did that to you, and now he’s ignoring you,” Yugi said, stroking Kaiba’s hair. “He shouldn’t be ignoring you, he should be treating you with the respect you deserve.”

“I don’t feel like I deserve much respect now. I feel like a cheap whore,” Kaiba said, quietly.

“Well, you’re the farthest thing from a whore,” Yugi told him.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs, then somebody saying, “I’m home!”

It was Yami.

“What’s Yami doing home so early?! I thought he was playing bingo with Grandpa and all those old people!” Yugi exclaimed.

The two boys scrambled to hide Kaiba’s clothes. Kaiba hid in Yugi’s bed and Yugi sat down in front of him, pulling his clothes on. Yugi was finally dressed, just as Yami walked into the room.

“I thought you were playing bingo with Grandpa,” Yugi said.

“I was, but these two old people got into a fight because they both had bingo and only one person could win. One of them threw his walker at the other, and the other one tried to run over him with his wheelchair. Then everyone started throwing their canes and cards at each other. It got sort of crazy, so Grandpa sent me home,” Yami explained. “Hey, whose deck is this?” He had spotted a dueling deck on the desk. He picked it up and looked at it.

“This looks an awful lot like-no, correction, it is Kaiba’s deck! Was Kaiba here?” Yami asked.

“Well, you could say that,” Yugi said, stalling.

“I have to sneeze,” Kaiba thought.

“What does that mean?” Yami asked.

“Ah-choo!” Kaiba sneezed.

Even though it wasn’t a big sneeze and it was muffled by the bedcovers, it was big enough to be heard by Yami. He rushed over to the bed.

“All right! Whoever’s under there, come out!” Yami said, afraid it might be a robber who snuck into Yugi’s room.

Kaiba hesitantly poked his head out from under the covers.

“Kaiba?!” Yami was shocked.

“Hello, Yami,” Kaiba said sheepishly.

Yami was about to pull the covers off Kaiba to help him out (Kaiba was practically buried in covers), but Kaiba said, “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m kinda…..not wearing any clothes..”

“Oh, crap, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, Yami. Could you please hand me my clothes?”

Yami handed Kaiba the pile of his clothes. Kaiba put his shirt and socks on, but he realized that there was something missing.

“Have you seen my underwear?” Kaiba asked.

“What do they look like?” Yami asked.

“They’re white boxers with Blue Eyes White Dragons on them.”

Yami and Yugi started to search for the underwear, but they couldn’t find it. They heard the door close downstairs.

“It’s Grandpa,” Yami said.

They started to speed-search, but Yugi’s and Yami’s room was always a mess, so they had no luck.

Mr. Moto’s footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Kaiba pulled his pants on, sans underwear, and grabbed his deck.

“I have to go,” Kaiba said. “You’ll get in trouble if your grandfather finds me up here like this.”

“But what about your underwear?” Yugi asked. “You need it.”

“I’ll manage without it. I’ll help you look later,” Kaiba said, putting his deck in his pocket.

“That’s okay, we’ll give it to you when we find it,” Yami said.

With a slight wave, Kaiba climbed out the window and went home.

Yugi and Yami watched Kaiba’s retreating figure.

“Can you imagine the chafing? We’d better find that underwear,” Yami said.

Yugi was lost in thought, daydreaming about a boxer-less Kaiba.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Clearly, the sexiest song in the world is Rednex's "Cotton Eye Joe."

[seancamerons]

i wanna make mbs for my fics lol like locations like i have this whole vision of how i think these places look like. ask me about any of these places i make up and have fun with what i have in mind. :)

lana's or known as lana's restaraunt a fancy pink designer boutique parisian provincial vibes and aesthetics, like it looks like a dupe versailles, with columns, statuettes and more. white gold pink as the main color palette the details are what is its major draw. the overall vibe is elegant and classic styles, it would totally have a beautiful logo of gold and baby pink with white accident - dainty looking with a lovely louise fili design aesthetic vibe designwise). the prices are high and is featured in backtrack.

another one is, the ravine itself. although its a canon location and has been featured through the years that could be fun. so scandalous and how good it feels to be bad, conveying that through imagery. i imagine the grounds by the firepits filled with charred logs. the van smelling like weed and gasoline in the summer heat, mosquitos and flies from open containers of food along with the skunky musks of the weed, the smell of cheap keystone light and other cheap beers for the underage who bribe some poor young adults into purchasing some alcohol for them, sometimes they're wanting to relive their glory days have an anon drinking party with guys with random girls, who knows. what a mess, it'd be a gritty vibe for sure. seedy and somewhat morally deviant, but also an entertaining party spot, very 2000s and 2010s flashbacks there.

its so intriguing though and an ambitious project the ravine is to incorporate in my writing. the ravine is featured a lot in faking it but mostly in together forever.

antonio's is another in-universe spot. where jimmy in season 1's coming of age briefly mentioned ordering some pizza for himself after his bday plans with ashley faded out.

it's where sean and emma get their double cheese pizza pies. i assume that's what it meant, they likely went there it's doubtful they didn't go to a chain. the vibe is strictly homemade, hometown mom-and-pop, also like a traditional parlor maybe even dated paneling like stained a chesnut with the checkerboard tables but still nice just retro. for instance another decor like those weird tiffany 80s looking chandeliers for lighting, like its giving pizza hut in the 1990s just family-owned.

i imagine jimmy was a frequent delivery or carryout customer. i could see young spin and jimmy pre-dot circa season 1 or 2, heading over to a pizza place after heading to novak's or the other drug and convenience stores passing the time on the main stretch of streets by school in town. i imagine the reason why the community school was named because the street they hang on is degrassi street, hence that is the idea i get.

wasaga beach, yet another location that i tend to love using in my writing. while in other teen dramas there were lots of locations in and out of town that were intriguing. in s4's back in black we finally see wasaga beach. I'm less sure if its real but i looked it up and it was once and it was sean's hometown. it comes up casually or not so casually in my fics that typically discuss sean or concern or center on sean or sean in relationships such as with ellie and emma, less may ut she conditionally comes up since he dated amy after emma and so on. okay, but i make it seem like an area close to me. hear me me out.

so in most of my fics he's either back recently from wasaga or back from the military after his stint in wasaga and or while he was staying there and leading up to his return, or lastly it's set before departure where wasaga is in the past and not considered, he wasn't ready to go back yet.

anyway, wildwood nj is my favorite place to be and it's reminiscent of a place that is DEAD outside of summer. it's a city by the beach there's a north wildwood and a south.

most people know about atlantic city with the casinos and beaches, an older boardwalk than all of them, and Ocean city course families frequent typically anyway because it's a dry town at Ocean City (not to be confused with ocean city, maryland but there's good and bad on both parts. oh and there's a famous boardwalk, both AC and Ocean City have famous boardwalks, but Wildwood is my favorite it's like 2 miles long and a lot of fun. Something for everybody. lots of funnel cakes on the pier, looking like the sometimes video by britney spears from 1999 but perpetually fun and whimsical, like a big carnival, my dream date.

in faking it it's pretty prominently featured and referenced.

[a-corndog-named-schibbs]

A Confused Bird

A fluffy nightangel one-shot I wrote, inspired by this post.

Please enjoy!

Kurt is woken up by a tapping sound coming from his window.  He glances over at his alarm clock.  It’s 3:15 in the morning.

Maybe it’s a cute boy here to confess his feelings for me, he thinks, before dismissing it.  There’s only one cute boy he’d like a confession from and the chances of that happening are dishearteningly slim.  It’s probably just a confused bird or something.

Kurt sits up and looks out his window to see what it is.

Oh.  Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Warren is hovering outside his window, gripping the bottom edge and trying to pull up.  Kurt slides out of bed and unlocks the window to let him in.  

“Oh, hi Kurt,” says Warren, pushing the window open, “Nice boxers.”

Kurt quickly puts his hands over his boxers in an effort to cover up, before realizing his efforts are ineffective.  He drops his hands again.

Warren shimmies into the room and rolls unceremoniously onto the floor, not nearly as graceful as he usually is.

Is he drunk? Kurt wonders.

“Hey, thanks,” says Warren, hauling himself to his feet, his words slightly slurring into each other, “Thanks for letting me in.  Damned window was stuck.”  The distinct scent of alcohol is on him.

Yep, definitely drunk.

Warren takes a moment to steady himself, more or less, “So what are you doing in my room?”

“Your…?” Kurt shakes his head, “Warren, I’m not in your room.  You are in mine.”

“What are you talking about?  This is my…” Warren glances around the room, finally noticing the bright blue bedsheets, the well-stocked bookshelf, the wooden cross on the far wall, the lack of rock band posters.  “Well, shit.  This isn’t my room.”

“Warren, have you been drinking?”

“A little,” says Warren, not really paying attention.  He’s too busy looking around the room, trying to take it in, “Your room is pretty.”

What?  This is not how Kurt expected a drunk Warren to act.  He would have pegged him for an angry drunk.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought, though, because Warren loses his balance again and Kurt has to keep him from tipping over, wrapping his arms around Warren and letting his head lean on his shoulder.

“Look,” says Kurt, “why don’t I bring you back to your room?  You seem like you’ve had a long night.”

“Thanks,” says Warren, trying to stand up straight again and smiling at him like a fool, “That’s nice.  You’re so nice.”

“I try.” says Kurt.

“So, so nice.” says Warren, speaking over him, “You’re like the nicest person I know.  It’s not fair, what are the rest of us supposed to do?  There ought to be a law.  No being pretty and nice at the same time.”

“Pretty?” says Kurt, sure he has heard wrong.

Warren nods, still grinning, “You’re so pretty.  So, so, so pretty.  You’re prettier than…” he looks around the room, trying to find something to compare Kurt to, before looking out the window, “…than the moon.”

Kurt can feel his face heating up, “I think you might be a bit confused.”

“I’m not!” says Warren, sharp enough to cause Kurt to jump a little, “You are pretty!  You’re prettier than anyone I know.”  He leans forward and suddenly their faces are dangerously close, “God, you’re so pretty.”

Part of Kurt wishes this conversation wasn’t happening.  The other part is eating it up.  After a moment, the latter wins out.

“What about me is so pretty?”

Warren leans back again, to take Kurt in, “Your eyes.  You have pretty eyes.”

“They’re yellow.”

“They’re a pretty shade of yellow.  They look like…what are those flowers the professor planted in the front garden?”

“Daffodils?”

“Yeah, those!  They look like daffodils.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it.”

“And your hair is pretty too.” Warren reaches up and takes a strand between his fingers to illustrate, “I like the blue in it.”

“Didn’t you say the other day that my hair made me look like..” What was the word he had used? “…like an emo poser?”

“Well, yeah.  A pretty emo poser.”

Kurt smiles at that.  His hair is one of the few things he genuinely likes about his appearance.

“That’s pretty too.”

“What is?”

“Your smile.”

Kurt looks down, “Now I know you’re making that up.”

“What?  No I’m not.  What makes you say that?”

“Because you can see my fangs when I smile.”

“Exactly.  They’re so cute.  Don’t you think they’re cute?”

Kurt blushes, unable to make eye contact.

“Hey, Kurt.”

“Mm?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes?”

“It’s super secret, understand?  No one else knows about this.”

“Okay.”

Warren leans toward him, “I have a big, huge, embarrassing crush on you.”

Kurt has momentarily forgotten how to breathe, “Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn sure.” Then Warren leans forward some more and their lips meet.

A wonderful tingling sensation shoots up and down Kurt’s back.  He grips Warren’s shoulders just to keep himself from falling over.  Warren breaks the kiss, just for a moment to let Kurt catch his breath, before burying his hand in his hair to tip his head back and deepen the kiss.  Kurt wishes this moment would last for eternity.

Guilt catches up with him when he tastes the alcohol on Warren’s lips.

Besides, Warren’s other hand is lifting the hem of his sleep shirt up, exploring the texture of the fur on his back and Kurt decides that’s far enough for one night.

“I think…” says Kurt, pulling away, “…that you should go to bed now.”

Warren looks disappointed, but he nods, “Okay.”

Kurt places a hand on Warren’s arm and teleports them both to Warren’s room.

Warren is nearly thrown off his feet once more, the shock of the teleportation hitting him.  He retches and puts a hand to his mouth.

Oh crap! Kurt grabs his arm again, practically shoving him into the bathroom, throwing open the toilet lid, and trying to keep Warren’s hair out of his face while he empties his stomach.

Poor Warren.  Unexpected teleportations can be rough enough for people who aren’t used to them.  Unexpected teleportations while drunk…

Once Kurt is sure Warren’s done, he grabs some tissues and wipes his face off.  Then he takes a cup from the sink and fills it with water, handing it to Warren so he can rinse his mouth out.

No more kisses tonight it seems.

Once Warren has drunk some water and is no longer looking quite so green, Kurt leads him back into the bedroom.  What Warren needs now is sleep.

“I’m going to take your clothes off now.” says Kurt.

“Are we gonna fuck?” asks Warren.  Not seductively, just confused with a hint of hopeful.

“Not tonight we’re not.  You are far too drunk.”

“Oh.” Warren’s shoulders slump.

It takes longer than expected to get Warren undressed.  His jacket and shirt have extra zippers and fastens on them that Kurt has to wrestle with in order to pull them off over his wings.  Eventually, though, Warren is down to his briefs and Kurt lays him down on the bed and pulls the covers up over him.  Warren is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

For a moment, Kurt simply watches over Warren as his breathing evens out.  He looks so serene, so beautiful, like an angel in a stained-glass window.  Kurt reaches out and pushes the hair out of his face.  Apparently, Warren is not quite fully asleep, because he smiles sleepily at the gesture.

Feeling bold, Kurt leans forward and presses a kiss to Warren’s forehead.  Warren stirs, murmurs something that Kurt can’t quite make out, and settles back down into his pillow.

Kurt’s heart flutters.  He reaches toward Warren’s desk, searching for pen and paper.

***

Warren wakes up feeling awful.

His head is pounding, the light coming in from the window is hurting his eyes, and his mouth tastes like a scorpion decided to make a nest in it.

Warren groans, rolling over.  Why couldn’t he have stayed asleep just a little longer.  He was having such a great dream too.  Kurt was in it and Warren was saying something that made him smile that sweet smile Warren couldn’t get enough of and…Warren puts a finger to his lips.  Oh, yeah, that happened too.  That’s how he knows it’s a dream.  He’d probably get a slap to the face if he ever tried to kiss Kurt in real life.

As Warren’s eyes adjust to the light, he looks over at his nightstand.  There’s a note on it, propped up against a cup of water.

Funny, there was a cup of water in the dream too.

Wait…

Warren sits up far too quickly and has to take a minute to let his headache subside.  Once he can see straight again, he takes the note and opens it.

Dear Warren,

You were pretty drunk last night and tried to climb into my window, so I put you to bed.  When you wake up, please drink this water so you don’t get dehydrated.

About what you said last night Regarding what you said last Last night you said you had a crush on me and I want you to know I feel the same way.  If you want to have breakfast together this morning, I would like that very much.

Sincerely, Kurt

Warren smiles, shaking his head.  He’s done nothing, not a goddamned thing, to deserve someone as sweet as Kurt.  He glances up at the clock.

10:25.  They’ve almost stopped serving breakfast by now.

Warren takes the cup of water and downs it before getting up to find some clothes.  He’s got a breakfast date to go to.

[drabbles-mc]

Burnt

Kozik x OFC (Tawnie Trager)

Inspired by Day 16 of the July Prompts: sunscreen

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Me? Back at it again with another slice of life fic? It’s more likely than you think! In my head this takes place on the same day as my other SOA Beach Day fic Say Cheese but the stories exist separately from one another. Also, if you’re interested in this pairing you can check out these fics: X X

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @jitterbugs927​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you want to be added just let me know!)

“Dad,” she aggressively shoved the bottle of sunscreen into his hand, “Dad just put it on.”

“No,” Tig tossed it over onto the towel, “I’m not putting that on. I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

Rolling her eyes, she picked the bottle back up. She squeezed a generous amount onto her hand and then proceeded to slap it onto his chest, “You’re tough but you’re not tougher than the fucking sun. Get over yourself.”

He groaned as he looked down at the mess of lotion that was on him now, “You fucking kidding me, T?”

“Nope,” she shook her head as she rubbed some into her own arms and legs.

Once she was done, she looked around to see who else was close. She loved all the boys in the club, but she would be the first to tell them all when they were being idiots. She was adamant about the whole sunscreen thing ever since they all decided to do a beach day together. The guys had given her shit about it at first, wondering when she became so concerned with those kinds of things, but when it came down to it the last thing they wanted was the pain that came from serious sunburn. So, most of them silently put some on, refusing to make eye contact with each other and acknowledge the situation.

“Kozik!” she called over to the man who was laying out towels for each of them.

His head whipped up, instantly looking over at her, “Yea?”

“You got some on?” she waved the bottle in his direction.

“Let him get burned,” Tig mumbled under his breath as he wiped away the last of the lotion that his daughter had caught him with.

Tawnie ignored the comment, shaking her head slightly as she waited for Kozik’s answer. He made his way over to her, reassuring her that, yes, he had put some on the second they got to the beach. He knew that there was no way she was going to let him get away with anything else, and she was the last person that he wanted to be pissing off.

“Can you get my back?” she asked as she handed him the bottle, pulling her hair out of the way.

“Um,” he could feel Tig’s eyes boring into him, “sure.”

Kozik silently prayed to whatever gods there were that Tig wasn’t going to pick him up and drown him in the ocean. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but he also wondered if that would make things worse. And she must’ve sense the tension, too, because she glanced back over her shoulder and looked at her father, eyebrows raised.

“You want him to get your back too, Dad?” she asked.

Kozik’s entire body froze up as he waited for the fallout. Surprisingly enough, Tig just sighed and shook his head before turning and walking down towards the water, “Those hands go below her shoulders and you’re a fucking dead man, Kozik.”

She chuckled quietly as he finished applying the sunscreen, “He’s full of it. You know that, right?”

“You sound pretty confident but I’m not so sure,” he chuckled as he closed the bottle and tossed it back into her bag.

“If he was going to kill you, he totally would have done it already.”

“That’s…that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

She laughed as she pressed her palms flat against his chest and pressed a light kiss to his lips, “Just relax. Who knows when we’re going to be able to all have a fun day together.”

“And what are you going to spend your fun day doing? Besides assaulting people with sunblock?”

She gave him a playful shove, “Shut up. I’m gonna go fucking swimming, duh. I haven’t been to the beach in ages,” she paused, tilting her head slightly, “What’re you gonna do?”

“Watch you swim,” a smirk crept across his face.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. It’d been an interesting, and slightly bumpy, road for the two of them to get to where they were at now. But she was happy about it, about him. And despite the constant pushback from her father, there was a certain type of ease and comfort that came from being with him. She knew that she wouldn’t have ever been able to be with someone who didn’t understand the type of life she lived, and no one understood it better than a man who was actually SAMCRO. But as she stood there looking at him, smiling with a few streaks of sunscreen still on his cheeks, he was more than just a guy from the MC. She never knew what it felt like to date someone who was your best friend until then.

She snapped herself out of her sappy thoughts with a shake of her head, “Don’t let my dad catch you leering.”

“I thought you said he was full of it?”

“I mean,” she laughed as she skipped off towards the water, “nothing is a hundred percent.”

He shook his head and watched her as she took off to go swim and cause whatever kinds of trouble she could manage to stir up along the way. Being with a Trager was a lot of things, but it was certainly never boring.

The afternoon sun was beating down on all of them. Most of them had found their way back to their chairs and towels and started digging into the food and drinks that they had brought with them. Tawnie was camped out on her towel, watching the volleyball game that was happening. Her father and Opie were pitted against Jax and Kozik, and to all of their credit it was shaping up to be a pretty competitive game. But she did notice the fact that Tig’s shoulders were getting redder and redder as the minutes went by—clearly he hadn’t put any extra sunscreen on except what she had forced on him. She shook her head silently, a smug smile creeping across her face. He’d have to learn the hard way, the way that he did with most things.

“Game point!” she called out before taking a sip of her beer.

“Better win this one for your girl, Kozik,” Jax quipped with a laugh.

She chuckled but she could see it on her father’s face that he was not at all amused by the comment. He dove, saving the ball from hitting the sand. There was now a new level of determination and desire to win. He never wanted Kozik to win at anything, but now there was an extra layer on top of it all.

The four of them were going back and forth for a while. Tawnie sat back, unable to hide the fact that she was incredibly impressed by them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Kozik jump up, spiking the ball down onto the other side of the net with an incredible amount of force. She couldn’t contain her laughter as she started clapping.

“Way to bring it home!” she beamed over at him.

“Lucky shot,” Tig said, already shaking his head.

Despite the tension that had been present during the game, once it was over everything went back to business as usual, which Tawnie was incredibly thankful for.

Tig was walking ahead, talking to Jax and Opie while she hung back with Kozik. She slipped her hand into his as they walked, smiles on both of their faces.

“You think it’s alright that I didn’t let him win?” he asked with a smirk.

She laughed, nodding, “It’s good for him. I’m thinking of it as karma for not using sunblock.”

“I think the blisters that are gonna be on his shoulders tomorrow will be karma enough.”

“Maybe,” she laughed, leaning against his side.

He glanced down at her, admiring her still-damp hair and the little patches of sand that were still stuck to parts of her stomach and arms. She looked so at home at the beach, and he had never felt more at home than when he felt her pressed up against his side.

“We should do this shit more often,” he said as they walked along the shore, waves lapping at their feet.

“Yea, well,” she chuckled, “When you guys take a break from your life of crime, we can do big family beach days whenever you want.”

“I’ll bring it up in church next time.”

She laughed, “Well,” she lifted their interlocked hands and kissed his knuckles, “you gotta let me know how that conversation goes.”

“If I live through it, you’ll be the first to know,” he smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

The sound of Tig’s voice cut through the softness of their moment, “Hey! I said no hands below the shoulders!”

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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[thiswasinevitableid]

95. you just witnessed me kill a guy and I have a really, really good reason for it, please don’t call the cops

Sternclay as a super/vigilante au? sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! This is NSFW

Content note: this fic contains mentions of murder, serial killers, knives. Brief description of a porn scene with implied dub-con (you can skip from the part where Barclay sees the TV to the next section break). But I included lots of fluff to balance it out.

This is the best hook-up Barclays had in years. Mr. Tall, dark, and handsome has done nothing but compliment him all night, from the fit of his shirt down to his kissing skills. So now that he’s facedown on the bed in this guys brownstone wearing only his boxers, he’s so excited he can barely think.

“Almost ready” a shcck of blinds dropping, “I just need to grab one more thing. Then the fun can start.”

“Can’t wait.” He sighs, shuts his eyes as his date moves across the room. Then the movement stops.

“Who the fu-”

Horrible, sticky warmth spatters the side of his face. Startled, he opens his eyes in time to watch his date fall to the floor, dead. Behind him is a figure in dark clothes with a tactical mask covering his face and a gun with a silencer in his right hand. A figure who has just noticed Barclay is awake.

In five swift, purposeful steps he’s at the bed, and Barclay doesn’t know what to do, whether to bolt for the window or knock the gun away or beg or, or or-

“Are you alright, sir?” The voice coming from the mask is calm and businesslike.

“.........what do you think?” Is the reply his useless brain comes up with.

“You look like you’re in shock. Which is understandable.” A gloved hand touches his face, “shit, I’m sorry, I was hoping none of it would get on you. Here, hold still.” He rifles through a pocket while Barclay’s mind drifts further from his body. Why isn’t he just killing him now? Is this part of some sick game?

“Turn your face this way just a bit” the back of his hand nudges Barclay’s chin, “good, thank you. I’m going to get you cleaned up, once that’s done I need to ask you to stay here until I’m finished cleaning up the scene. And also to not call the authorities for help when I’m out of the room.”

“Why?” Nope, okay, that’s it, that’s the reply that gets him shot.

“For one, you’re not in any danger from me. You were in danger from the now-deceased Mr. Martin, which is why I killed him.”

“I, uh, h-how can you be sure?”

“Let me show you” he helps Barclay up, guides him to the body, “you don’t need to look at him, just at that.”

He’s pointing to the boning knife clutched in the man’s hand. Barclay’s guts turn to sour milk.

“M-maybe he picked that up when he saw you?”

The killer shakes his head, gently guides Barclay back to the bed and, after a moment of studying the nightstand, pulls out the bottom drawer. It contains two more knives, duck tape, pliers, and seven, severed human thumbs.

“Oh fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck?” He whispers as the man closes the drawer.

“Mr. Martin is the Bear Butcher. I doubt you’ve heard of him, because that’s the name the authorities use among themselves while insisting that there’s no need to warn the public about him. He’s killed seven men, all gay and all on the bigger side; you would have been number eight.”

“I’m gonna be sick” He tips forward, feels gloved hands catch him and easily half-drag him into what turns out to be the bathroom.

“Wait here and do what you need to. I’ll be done in fifteen minutes, less if I can manage it. And, um, you might want to keep your eyes closed.”

Barclay has no problem with that order, though when the killer (his hero?) moves the body into the tub he discovers both the reason for the warning and that he does indeed have more in his stomach to throw up.

After an eternity of iron and bleach in the air and bile on his tongue, he’s helped back into the bedroom. The man hands him his clothes, turning his back as he dresses. He’s changed too, though the mask remains.

“I, I didn’t bring my car.” Barclay says weakly, knowing he won’t have the energy to walk home and the thought of getting in a cab or rideshare sets his nerves screaming.

“I assumed, since he wouldn’t want it being abandoned to lead to someone calling you in missing. If you’re okay with it, I can give you a ride home.”

Barclay nods. The man ushers him out the front door, pausing at the threshold for a final sweep. Then he pulls off his mask. Black hair sticks up until he smooths it back in a practiced motion, and blue eyes regard Barclay gently from a handsome face.

“It’s the Altima, right on the corner.” He says, folding the mask and tucking it into his pocket. Barclay gives his address, sits stiffly in the passenger seat as a pop station plays from the speakers.

“Do you want to change the station?”

“No” Barclay inhales fine, but the exhale comes out shaky, “jesus, how are you so calm?”

“Because if I’m trying to help you stay calm, I need to model the behavior. And, um, this isn’t my first time doing this, in case that wasn’t obvious. I’ve never had a witness before, for all the usual reasons and I’d prefer not to traumatize someone. But he went off his pattern and picked you up tonight, and I was not about to let him claim another victim.”

“Thank you.” Barclay doesn’t know what else to say. His adrenaline brain suggests propositioning the man in gratitude because it’s not everyday a hot mystery man saves your life. But the rest of him is well aware that if anyone touched him right now he might scream.

“It’s my job. Or it’s supposed to be.”

His curiosity peeks out from where it’s been hiding behind his sense of self-preservation, “What’s your name? Or can you not tell me?”

“It’s Joseph.”

“Barclay.”

“I wish we’d met under better circumstances, Barclay. Oh, here we are.” He parks the car, engine still running, “do you want me to wait until you’re inside to go?”

It should feel safe; it’s his apartment, his home above Amnesty’s new location, Mama’s own little house just out in the backyard. But his hand can’t make the fucking door handle go.

“Would, uh, would you mind coming up with me? Just, just for a few minutes?”

The man raises his eyebrows, but nods. Soon he’s standing in Barclays little kitchen, hands folded politely behind his back while Barclay tries and fails to start tea.

“If you want to just point to where things are, I can do that for you. You should eat something too, if your stomach’s settled.”

Barclay declines at first, but when his stomach growls Joseph moves through the kitchen--making distracting small talk all the while--not stopping until he’s assembled a plate of crackers, cheese and apples.

“Ooh, you got the good stuff.” He steals a piece for himself while Barclay nibbles a Triscuit

“Kinda a cheese snob; comes with the job.”

They talk about food and food writing until his plate is clear, at which point Joseph suggests he get ready for bed. Without being asked, he stays by the door as Barclay finishes getting changed and brushing his teeth.

“I, uh, I’m not really sure how to, uh, end this night.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “Lock the doors behind me. You don’t need to worry about anything else; you don’t owe me a thing. You’re safe. That’s what matters.” He smiles at him for the last time and heads out into the early morning light.

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

“Hey big fella, you’ll never guess who put in an order.” Mama clips up the slip from the table she’s working; Amnesty has been busy in the week since they opened here, so much so that she’s had to help with the crowds.

“Who?” Barclay flips the pancakes he’s watching, checks the bacons for tables 15 and 9.

“Your late night visitor.” Mama winks.

He turns, spots Joseph at the far end of the counter. He’s in a black suit, blue tie setting off his eyes, and his hair is fully slicked back. On his chest is a badge identifying him as working at the nearby FBI offices. He’s clearly as surprised to see Barclay as Barclay is to see him. He’s less surprised that Mama saw him leaving; she gets up early and her window faces his back stairs

“Hold on” Mama nudges him, “did he give you trouble? Because you look pretty off.”

“No, no, just, uh, didn’t expect to see him again.”

Joseph orders hash and poached eggs, and when Barclay sends the order out, he hands Dani a slice of cherry pie to go along with it. He peeks over his shoulder; Joseph is looking at the free dessert, smiling. Then he takes a bite and makes a face that’s borderline orgasmic. Barclay looks away before he drops a hot waffle on his foot.

Amnesty's restaurant closes at 3, and as Barclay is locking the front door, he notices Joseph waiting for him in an easily visible, well-lit spot.

“You know, I meant it when I said you didn’t owe me anything. Not even the most delicious pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“I give freebies now and then” Barclay smiles, “no rule that says I can’t give them to someone who did me a huge fucking favor. And, uh” he blushes, “glad you like the pie.”

“The whole meal was incredible. You’re a very talented cook. Would it be okay if I came back?” His expression is hopeful, almost nervous.

Barclay touches his shoulder, “Anytime.”

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

“So, uh, I’ve haven’t had a chance to ask but, uh, when you’re not working or chatting with me here, what do you do? For, like, fun?” Barclay leans across the counter as Joseph licks his form clean of meringue. Barclay’s gone through twelve different pie recipes in the last month just to see which ones the other man likes best.

“I read a lot, cultivate an extensive knowledge of old horror movies, try to make decent risotto in my apartment...oh, I play frisbee golf sometimes, I picked it up in college.”

“Any interest in seeing that new Godzilla movie? It looks terrible but in a fun way.”

“Oh yeah, I like what I’ve seen of the design they’re using for the kaiju.” He notices Barclays hand resting millimeters for his own. He runs his thumb along Barclays knuckles, “are you asking if I’ll go see it with you, big guy?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d love to.”

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

“Holy fuck babe, when you said you were running out to get breakfast I figured you meant, like, McMuffins.”

“Only the best for you, big guy. Consider it a thank you for making dinner last night.” Joseph finishes laying out the donuts from “Holes in One” next to the plate of bagels and lox from the only place that Joseph insists does them right.

Barclay wraps his arms around him, tickling his cheek with his beard, “you’re fucking amazing babe.”

Joseph kisses him, coffee flavored and light, “So are you. Still want to play chess later?”

“Uh huh. Winner gets to blow the loser?”

“I like those terms, Mr. Cobb.”

It’s been like this for the last three months; evenings at the movies or tangled up in bed, mornings in sleepy hazes on the couch or out the eat, days upon days of Joseph spoiling, servicing, and just generally loving the hell out of him.

There are also the nights or, more often, early mornings, when Joseph returns steeped in grim satisfaction. At first he avoided having Barclay over those nights or going to see him the next day. Lately, they’re together so much that it’s unavoidable that Barclay will see the lethal edge lingering in his gaze or rub knots from his shoulders that he knows were earned in some darkened room where horrors had been playing out for weeks, months, even years. He doesn’t shy away from it; he loves Joseph, and that means seeing him clearly, though sometimes what he sees sends chills across his skin. Chills that feel less and less like fear.

They’re out for a walk around the lake, trading bites of gelato, when a question tunnels it’s way to the front of Barclays mind. He waits until they’re sitting on a bench far from any prying ears to ask it.

“What made you decide to, uh, do what you do?”

His boyfriend studies him, then sighs, “A number of things. Fear was the first one; you said you don’t follow true crime, so I’m guessing you don’t know of the Janesville Strangler?”

“Nope.”

“He killed ten young women over the course of three years. He’s also my biological father. Michael Stern is my stepfather and, at my request, my adoptive one as well; my mom remarried as soon as she was sure my father couldn’t get out. He, he never turned any violence on me, but I suspect he used me as leverage with mom; she was a smart woman, I suspect she noticed something amiss but was frightened into keeping quiet. I was six when they locked him up, eight when she remarried. Mike is a gentle man, he did his best to raise me the same. But I, I never shook the fear that whatever drove my father to kill innocent people lurks somewhere in my genes.”

Barclay’s arm rests protectively across Joseph’s shoulders.

“I joined the FBI because I felt if I was able to turn whatever killer genes I have towards understanding serial murderers, I could use them to help others. Keep people safe. Ambition and skill moved me through the ranks quickly but” he sighs, “the more I rose, the more I saw how little was being done. How cases were mishandled, how if there was the slightest hint it was a cop or veteran doing the killing suddenly the case went cold, how a killer could pick off person after person and no one cared because the victims were the “wrong” kind of people. It came to a head two years ago; I’d poured all this energy into a case where the killer went after sex workers. He was prolific and obviously cruel, I fought tooth and nail for every resource I needed to track him. Officer Alex Brown was my main suspect, I was so close to getting a warrant to search his property and then they closed the case. Insisted the deaths were unrelated. I...I went up and searched on my own and” he looks at the sky, rests his head on Barclays arm, “lord almighty the things I found. I was right, I was right and I couldn’t do anything about it, he’d get to just go on preying on people and I couldn’t handle failing his future victims that way. I waited until he went on a hunting trip. Alone. Lots of things can happen to a man in the woods. And it’s hard to find evidence when his body just happens to fall near a coyote den.”

A little smile, one he tries to suppress, creeps up his cheeks, “I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life. I decided I’d still try to play by the rules but that if I knew, for certain, someone was guilty and being shielded by either ignorance or malice, I’d solve the problem myself.” He looks at Barclay for the first time since he started his answer, face turning to shame, “I’m sorry, I, I should have given the short answer. I didn’t, I don’t want to upset you, or scare you but it’s hard not to given-”

“Joseph” Barclay carefully runs his fingers over black hair, “it’s not like I forgot how we met. I...I’m not under any misimpressions about what you’re capable of. I just wanted to know how you arrived at the solution you did. It’s, uh, it’s not what I’d choose for myself, not something I could do but, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is that this isn’t going to push me away from you. And that it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to explain it.”

His boyfriend curls closer, “It means a lot to me, too.”

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

Black gloves on his throat, weight on his chest and when he opens his eyes it’s Joseph above him, steel in his gaze and between his fingers. He’s in a muddled dream version of Bear Butcher’s apartment

“Hi, big guy.” The thin knife slices up Barclay’s pants, “let’s get you out of these.”

“Please, please I-”

“Shhhh” Joseph kisses him, “I removed the man who threatened you. But you’re so handsome laid out like this, a victim just waiting for someone to make you scream.”

“Babe, I-”

“That’s not my name right now. Call me..” the hand no longer has a knife, is running roughly up his cock instead, “call me…”

Barclay wakes up still humping the mattress as he cums. Blindly, he reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s the fifth dream like that in two weeks, and they always leave him so horny he tries to get it up and get off again if there’s time. No such luck today; he has to be up in ten minutes.

He tries not to think about it during work, just like he tries not to think about it the rest of the time. Especially in bed with Joseph, his attentive, indulgent Joseph who puts all his organizational skills and professional practice at giving orders into domming Barclay so sweetly he stays in subspace for hours.

He’s still very much not thinking about Joseph gagging him so his screams don’t wake the neighbors as he climbs the stairs to his boyfriends place. Dani was a sweetheart and took care of his orders for him, so he was able to leave work early.

The T.V is on, volume up loud enough that he can tell what his boyfriend is up to before he even walks into the room. He fully intends to tease him for not being able to wait until Barclay was there to jerk off before hauling him into the bedroom. But when he sees the screen, he freezes.

A man in what looks like a cheesy camp counselor uniform is tied to the bed, his shirt stuffed into his mouth as a make-shift gag. Straddling him is a man in a black jumpsuit, knife near his hand and cock buried in the counselors ass.

“That’s it sweetheart, wiggle and try’n get away; you ain’t gonna and it feels so fuckin good when you try. This is what you get for leaving the window open.”

The counselor shakes his head, fear so palpable Barclay barely notices the fact the boom mic is in the shot. The killer pulls the gag free.

“Please, please, don’t kill meAH, ohgod”

A dark laugh, “I’m not gonna kill you, sugar. Thought about it, but when am I gonna find an ass this good again? Nah, I’m gonna take you back with me, keep you strapped down because you’re the, fuck, cutest goddamn specimen I ever caught.”

On the couch, Joseph tenses, cumming in the sleeve he’s using with a cry at the same moment the killer on screen cums and bends to kiss his co-stars tear-streaked face.

Joseph hits the remote, causing the T.V to go dark and reveal Barclay’s reflection.

“Shit!” Joseph leaps up, making Barclay yelp in surprise, “oh, oh thank the lord it’s just you….oh god how much of that did you see?”

“Some?”

Joseph drops to the couch, head in hands, “shit. I’m, I’m so sorry Barclay, I, I never wanted you to know about this habit, I’m sorry it’s awful.” The voice between his fingers sounds like it might cry.

“I mean, that wasn’t like a snuff film, right?”

“Those aren’t real.”

He can’t help but smile remembering Joseph’s rant on the subject, “what I meant was: those guys are just actors getting paid to do a scene like that, not some actually getting attacked.”

“Of course not.” Joseph looks up, horrified, “I’d never watch something like that. The, the whole reason I like this company is that they do horror porn under very ethical working conditions.”

“Then why are you acting like I caught you pissing in my coffee?”

“Does the fact I get off to this honestly not bother you?”

“I mean, people get off to all sorts of shit. Like, um, like” he twists the bracelet on his wrist, “like their boyfriend tying them up and threatening to make them scream.”

Josephs eyes widen. Then he shakes his head, “No. No we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I...I never, ever want to hurt you that way. Even in a scene. I can’t stand the thought of you being scared of me, of turning these impulses loose on you. It sounds fun until I picture it and then it makes me ill. No, this stays firmly in my head.”

“Okay.” He keeps his reply soft to hide his disappointment. Joseph is still on the couch, refusing to look his way, and so he circles it and kneels at his feet to better rub his arms. He thinks about the images on screen. About Joseph, blissed out then suddenly shame-faced. Joseph, two nights ago, calculated and loving as he worked Barclay over.

No, maybe the kind of scene he’s been picturing isn’t for them. But he can think of one that is.

“What if, uh, instead of giving into the desires that freak you out we kind of rechannel them. Like, instead of strapping me down to torment me, you’re doing it to show off?”

Blue eyes meet his for the first time all night, “Say more.”

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

“Ready?” Barclay bats his eyelashes at Joseph as his boyfriend finishes double checking the tightness of the rope he’s using to tie Barclays arms above his head.

“Ready.” Joseph stands, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes as he takes deep breaths. Then he frowns, “can you start us off?”

“Sure thing, babe.” He nestles his head on the pillow, “okay, you found me tied up like this. What’s your first thought?”

Joseph opens his eyes, gaze sharp, “That I’m so lucky someone left a handsome specimen like you where I could find him.”

Barclays cock twitches at being referred to that way, “You’re not gonna let me go?”

“Not just yet. You’re so perfect, will you let me make a case for staying here with me?”

“Please” Barclay whimpers as Joseph straddles him, knife in hand.

“I’m very precise, for starters.” He cuts slowly up Barclays boxers until he can pull the strip of fabric off. Repeats the process, lips a firm line of concentration, with his undershirt, “see? There’s not even a scratch. I have to be careful not to damage my perfect specimen.”

Barclay groans, rolling his hips. Joseph smiles, shifting so his cock rubs against Joseph’s clothed crotch.

“Fuck, Joseph-”

“Shhhh” a gloved thumb brushes his lips, “When you’re like this, my name is Sir.”

“Ohfuck.” Barclay rubs his cheek pleadingly in his palm, “Sir, please, please, untie me so I can touch you.”

“Not yet.” Joseph pats his cheek, scoots backwards on the bed, “besides, you’ll have lots of time to touch me once I take you home and make you my sweet live-in plaything.”

“Holyfuckingshit.” Barclay fights off a dozen tantalizing images of what that could entail to focus on their plan, “Sir? What, uh, what was the guy who tied me up going to do to me?”

His boyfriend settles between his legs, “He was going to take you apart.” He lifts Barclay’s right leg, “starting with these, so if you got free you couldn’t run. This tendon first” he kisses the back of his knee, making Barclay giggle. He pauses, then decides on holding both legs up at once so he can repeat the kiss on the other side. His lips move slowly down to his ankles, right side and then the left, before a final one lands on his arch, “he was going to cut here too. But not me” the kisses continue, “I’m going to rub them every evening so you’re never sore.”

“Fuuuuck” He sighs as Joseph straddles him once more, leaning forward so he can kiss and fondle his arms.

“He was going to slice alllll along here” Joseph’s breathing is picking up the longer he lavishes Barclay with kisses, “then he was going to take your fingers one by one” Joseph kisses each knuckle in turn, his free hand petting Barclay’s face and hair, “then he was going to commit a cardinal sin by mangling these” Joseph toys with his pecks, sucks happily on his left nipple for a moment, “what a crime that would have been.”

“Sir” it’s a whine as Joseph nips and kisses his way down to his navel.

He raises slightly, mouth just above Barclays cock, “and because he had no imagination, he was going to cut this wonderful appendage off. Which is not the treatment it deserves.”

“What treatment does it deserve SirrrrrOHfuck, fuckyes” Barclay pants as Joseph licks stripe after stripe up his cock. As Joseph licks and sucks him to a hard-on, he feels the plug slip from his ass.

“I don’t know what his plans were for that” Joseph sits up, undoing his pants and pulling out his cock, “but I know what mine are.” He pushes Barclays legs wide, works his cock in with slow, steady thrusts while Barclay tries to remember how words work.

“Shit, yes, god your ass is amazing, what kind of person sees it and thinks its for anything but fucking?”

“Nngh” Barclay clings to the ropes as Joseph’s thrusts quicken.

“Lord, I thought you were a perfect specimen before but I was wrong, you look even better taking my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck that’s hot.”

Joseph grip his thighs tight enough to hurt, “well, big guy, will you stay with me?” His eyes glitter, his hair is coming loose and falling across his forehead.

“YesAH, yes, ohfucksirright there” He didn’t notice Joseph changing the angle of thrusts until his cock found his prostate, “I’ll be so good Sir, wanna be a good boy for you.”

“Oh good.” Joseph’s smile goes wolfish for an instant, “because I would have had to do some very mean things to persuade you if you refused.”

Barclay cums at that, staining Joseph’s shirt with white. His hands knock against the headboard as Joseph fucks him hard enough to make him sob with oversensitive pleasure.

“You’re going to be such a nice plaything for Sir, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good boyOH, ohshit, shit.” Joseph pulls out halfway through cumming, spattering it on Barclays thighs and balls. Carefully, he lowers his legs. Then his boyfriend collapses into his arms, panting and giddy.

“That, that was so fun. I’d say who knew but every time we fuck you show me just how fucking fun all this can be.”

“Aw, babe.” He goes to hug him and rediscovers the ropes.

“Ohshit, here” Joseph sets to work undoing his knots, “are your wrists okay? Not too sore? How about your shoulders?”

“They all feel fucking great, baby. I feel great. How could I not? I got you looking after me.”

Joseph smiles, “and out for you.”

“That too. Now c’mere, special agent, your next assignment is cuddling your boyfriend.”

[foilfreak]

BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting�� and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

[killmytyme]

cherry cola | calum hood

image from this post by @siyahraat​

this fic is brought to you by @myloverboyash​​ absolutely destroying me with this text post, which I reblogged and went off in the tags and then couldn’t get it out of my head so I had to write out the entire scene. is this maybe the most self indulgent thing I have written in a really long time? yes. is this good? probably not. but i saw this whole cozy 3am snack run in my mind and had to get it out here somehow. 

warnings: none except for the most gross amount of fluff

word count: 2.4k

_______________

The thing is, you had been craving a cherry cola slushy all day. It was all you could think about for the whole day, but you knew you didn’t need one, so when you had gone out earlier you summoned your willpower and didn’t indulge. The problem was that now it was 3am and you couldn’t sleep, and all you could think about was the gas station a 10 minute drive away that had the cherry cola slushy you needed. The other problem was that Calum was fast asleep, and you really hated driving alone late at night. It had been hours now of you laying awake and only thinking about the slushy before you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. You rolled over to face him and gently shook his shoulder.

“Cal,” you whispered, watching his face twitch as he started to stir. “Cal, wake up.”

“Hmm?” he questioned, blinking awake slowly. His arm reached out to pull you into him. “’S’wrong? You okay?”

“I need a slushy,” you say, pulling at him to move with you as you sat up. “We need to go get one.”

“Babe,” Calum’s eyebrows raised as he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. You knew what it would say, you knew how crazy this probably sounded. “It’s 3am, we can get slushies tomorrow.”

“No, Cal, I need a slushy,” you whine. “I know it’s 3am, I know it’s crazy, but I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a cherry cola slushy right now. Immediately.”

“Cherry cola?” There’s laughter in his voice, and you know you’ve won him over. “Babe, the best slushy flavour is blue raspberry. That’s just an objective fact.”

“Okay, well, it’s an objective fact, Calum Hood, that I am wasting away here without snacks or a slushy to sustain me!” You hop out of bed and grab the hoodie he tossed on a chair before he crawled into bed, throwing it at his face while he laughed at your dramatics. “If you loved me like you say you do, you’d get up and drive me, unless you want me going out at 3 in the morning by myself, which is dangerous and-” 

Your voice is cut off by the feeling of the hoodie you’d just thrown his way coming down over your head, and you squirm your arms up into the sleeves, Calum pulling the sweater down over your body.

“You’re lucky that I love you, you know that,” he says, smiling fondly at you. You grin back at him, the smile not leaving your face as he gets dressed and starts the hunt for his keys. “Who would have thought I’d find someone who drags me out of bed at ridiculous hours because they need a slushy, of all things, and I’m still in love with them.”

“It’s all part of my charm, you know,” you say as you tap your foot impatiently.

“If you say so.” He finally locates his keys and you both make your way out of the house and into the car. The night air is crisp, and the street is quiet in that way that only the middle of the night can be; still and peaceful, knowing you’re likely the only ones awake and moving, feeling alone but nowhere near lonely as Calum starts the car and intertwines your hands, backing out of the driveway.

You start pressing buttons on the radio to bring up some music for the drive, and he laughs when you land on the Top 40s station. At this time of the night it’s a DJ set, some local up and coming DJ getting the 3am slot to play terrible remixes to popular songs. Just your luck, you flipped to the station in time to hear Calum’s voice floating out of the speakers.

“Don’t you love this song?” you giggle, turning up the volume and singing along as the chorus starts.

“I wonder who it’s by,” he comments, playing along with you.

“It’s this band from Australia, they’re not that big so you probably haven’t heard of them. Pretty underground stuff.” You can’t stop giggling, and Calum couldn’t wipe the fond grin from his face if he tried. You get like this when you’re tired, silly and giggly, and it’s one of his favourite ways to see you. “They’re okay, their old stuff is better. Newer albums aren’t their best work.”

“Bold words from someone who hasn’t missed a beat singing along,” he squeezes your hand as he teases you, and even after all this time the simple action stirs up the butterflies that never seem to vacate your stomach when you’re around him.

“Hey, I never said I had good taste!”

“Clearly, you dragged me out of bed at 3am for a cherry cola slushy.” He laughs again at your mock gasp, but you don’t have time to defend your slushy choice before you realize you’ve driven by the gas station.

“Cal! You missed the turn, we need to-”

“Don’t you want other snacks? If we’re up, I kind of want cheese puffs. We can grab slushies on the way back, okay?”

“Calum Hood,” your voice is serious now, and he glances over with concern on his face. “You are a genius. Cheese puffs are exactly what I want. Can we get popcorn, too?”

“You can have everything you want, babe.” Calum turns the car into the grocery store parking lot and you learn your head back against the seat, facing him, and it occurs to you then that everything you want is just him and a thousand more midnight snack runs like this.

Once you get inside the store you both give apologetic waves to the cashier who nods tiredly at you and waves you in. The store is 24-hours but you both still feel that twinge of guilt walking in so late. Calum grabs a basket and starts heading to the snack aisle but you pull his hand back and gesture towards the produce.

“We have to walk the aisles! Like we always do,” you say, staring longingly at the rows of fruit.

“We always do that when we come here at 3 PM, not AM,” he says patiently. You ignore him, still staring at the apples until he sighs and gives in, letting you drag him through every aisle.

You each comment on things as you walk by them, falling into your usual store rhythm. One of the things you’ve always loved about Calum is his ability to make even the most mundane errand fun, the way he plays into your bits and lets you be unabashedly silly. He doesn’t think twice when you pause in front of the assortment of breads, fresh from the bakery, and ask in all seriousness for him to choose which bread he thinks most represents him.

“Kaiser buns,” he says without pausing to think.

“Yes!” you shout, and you both dissolve into giggles when a nearby associate jumps, clearly shocked by the noise. Calum calls out an apology as you continue to laugh. “Suits you. Crusty on the outside, soft on the inside,” you say through your laughter, poking him in the side.

“M’not crusty,” he says, tone offended, but you can tell by the crinkles around his eyes that he’s amused by your antics.

“You said kaiser! Not me!” You grab a bag for yourselves and toss them in the basket, much to Calum’s chagrin.

The rest of the trip goes just like that, pausing every few steps to delve into a deep discussion about white eggs vs brown eggs, or the best breakfast cereals, or the uses for the wide arrange of infused olive oils. By the time you make it to the check out you’ve spent far too much time in the grocery store, but the cashier, a woman with grey hair and kind eyes, smiles warmly at you as she rings you through.

Finally back in the car you dig out the container of cheese puffs and feed some to Calum as he drives. The DJ set is still going, this time the song is a mashup of two popular songs. You do your best to sing along but it’s switching between the two so quickly you can’t quite keep up, and Calum nearly has to pull over from laughing so hard at your attempts to follow along with the lyrics. In retaliation, you refuse to give him any more cheese puffs, pouting in an exaggerated manner at him.

When he pulls into the gas station and parks the car, he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your mouth in apology, murmuring a soft “sorry for laughing” against your lips.

“You’re only saying that so you can get more cheese puffs,” you sigh dramatically.

“You got me,” he smirks, lips still close enough that you can feel it on your skin before he pulls away and - the asshole - snatches the cheese puffs from you as he goes.

“Calum!” Your yell is met with just laughter as he hops out of the car, cheese puffs under his arm, and races into the gas station.

You catch up to him, giggling at how ridiculous your night has turned out, and find him standing in front of the slushy machine clearly deep in thought at his options. Under the cherry cola slushy dispenser sits an already full slushy cup, ready for you. You open your mouth to thank him and he shushes you, eyes squinting as they flick over the 6 flavour options he has to choose from.

The feeling that has been creeping up on you more and more frequently comes back again as you watch him. It’s the butterflies in your stomach, and the feeling that your heart is going to actually come bursting through your shirt with how full and warm you feel just looking at him. An hour ago he was fast asleep, and now here is he is with you, being silly and selecting a slushy flavour like it’s the most important decision he’s ever made. You’re so in love with him sometimes it overwhelms you, and it’s never in the moments you expect. It’s in small moments like these - in the back corner of a gas station at nearly 4am, under fluorescent lighting, wearing your rattiest clothing. It’s single minutes in time that make you positive there is never going to be anyone else for you, you only ever want to spend your 3am moments with Calum.

You’re roused from your staring when he moves towards the machine, moving your cup so he can place his directly under the cherry cola dispenser and flipping the lever. You make an indignant noise, and he shoots a smirk at you.

“You’ve been talking about it all night, I had to get it,” there isn’t even a hint of an apology in his voice for all of his teasing earlier, but you don’t even have it in you to rib him for it because you’re too focused on trying not to let how ridiculously happy these moments make you show on your face.

In fact, you wait to say anything at all until you’re back in the car, happily sipping on your slushies, the music acting as background noise now. Your hands are tangled again, and Calum’s thumb rubs softly on the top of yours.

“This slushy flavour actually is delicious,” he says eventually when you’re close to home, breaking your comfortable silence. “I understand now why you needed to get out of bed to get this. It really was an emergency.”

He’s smiling at you, but not in a teasing way. It’s the smile he gave you when you first met Duke and won the small dog over after hours of patiently sitting on the ground and waiting for him to come see you. It’s the smile he gave on the first night you moved into his house and he looked around at the mess of boxes among his things. It’s the smile he gave you when he walked off the stage the first time you unexpectedly showed up on tour to surprise him.

It’s the smile he can’t control, the one that comes out in his happiest moments. Those moments always include you.

“We should get married,” you blurt out. You feel your eyes widen slightly when you say it. You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even registered the thought before you were saying it. You knew, though, you wouldn’t take it back. You didn’t want to see 3am without him ever again, and you hoped he felt the same way.

“Okay,” he says easily, his happiest smile still shining bright on his face. “Wait, like now? There are some people who might actually kill us if we got married at 4am in sweatpants. Like, I think Luke might actually kick me out of the band if I rob him of the chance to dress up and attend a wedding. You know how he is.”

“Not now,” you laugh. “You’re right about Luke though. I just mean...we should. You know, at some point I’d like to get married.”

“Me too.” You’ve pulled into the driveway now, but neither of you make a move to exit the car. This moment feels small, but it also feels large and vulnerable in a way that even the sound of a door opening might break. “I kind of want to be woken up by you at 3am for slushies for the rest of my life.”

“Good,” you reply softly. He starts to lean towards you and meet him over the centre console, pressing your lips together. It doesn’t even make the list of the most passionate or heated kisses the two of you have shared, but somehow the soft press of your lips feels like more - feels like everything.

Later that morning you sit on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you chat about everything and nothing, finishing your snacks and watching the sun come up outside of the windows. In a way, this feels like everything, too. From the minute you shook his shoulder a few hours ago until now, it all feels like a moment that needed to happen, like the universe knew you needed this collection of small moments to get you here.

“Hey babe,” you say after a few moments of silence. He hums in response. “Do you think at our wedding we could have a cherry cola slushy machine?”

Calum bursts into laughter, but you can feel him nodding his head where it’s resting on your legs. “You can have everything you want, babe.”

He cuddles into you closer, and you can tell from his relaxed face that he’s drifting to sleep, and all you can think as you close your eyes is that you already have everything you want.

[elisaphoenix13]

Celebration Of Mama Bear

A fic for Stephen's birthday (yes I know it's late)! This also takes place before Lucy!

"Buongiorno, duchessa." Tony mumbles against Stephen's lips when he bends down to kiss him.

"Tony, it's too early for this." Stephen weakly bats in his direction without opening his eyes. "I can already hear things crashing and I'm not ready to deal with that."

Tony chuckles. "Not crashing, I promise. The kids are making breakfast."

Stephen cracks an eye open and looks at him suspiciously. "Which ones?"

"Harley and Cassie."

"Thank the Vishanti." Stephen mumbles.

There's a brief pitter patter of feet outside their open door and both Valerie and William appear in the doorway. The teen was behind the little girl who was holding her stuffed cow in one of her arms. Her eyes glittered in excitement and had Stephen opening his other eye before sitting up. Well he attempted to, but Athena was currently laying half of her body across his chest.

"Mama, i pancake sono pronti!" Valerie says and Stephen looks back at Tony.

"Of course she's speaking Italian at two."

"What can I say? Our children are geniuses." Tony shrugs. "Now get up before I have a certain 600 pound cat come lay on top of you."

Stephen rolls his eyes but gets out of bed after quietly commanding Athena off of him. Tony stood up and directed the two kids back downstairs while Stephen got ready for the day, and Athena waited patiently by the door like she always did. Whenever Tony got out of bed first, which was a rare occasion, the wolf would replace him as Stephen's cuddle buddy. Especially whenever the sorcerer was sick. He had grown so accustomed to cuddling (courtesy of Peter), that it felt wrong not to wrap himself around someone when he was ill. It was usually Tony or Athena, with the occasion of Peter or Harley.

Harley wasn't much of a cuddler but he would put up with it just to help Stephen feel a little better. At least until someone could take his place. The twins...they were still a little unsure of the physical contact but they were slowly growing to love it. Diana and Valerie were not allowed because Stephen didn't want to risk spreading whatever he was sick with to them. Valerie was pretty grumpy whenever Mommy got sick but she still behaved for her father and siblings.

"Why don't you go check and make sure Gerald has been fed?" Stephen says as he opens a portal for Athena.

She immediately hops through and he watches as a second one opens to let Emir and Flynn through. The tiger was, of course, carrying the fox by his scruff and only put him down once they were safely through. Stephen left the portals open so the animals could get back when they were finished, and leaves the room once he's dressed for the day.

When he gets down to the kitchen, he finds it and his family in chaos. A pleasant chaos. The air was filled with their constant chatter and the smell of food, and there was a lot of it. Pancakes, sausages, eggs, bacon, fruit... anything and everything was spread out on the counter and the table.

"What's all this?" He asks as he grabs a piece of bacon.

"Birthday breakfast." Thomas says as he gently pushes Stephen over to his chair.

"You didn't have to do any of this." Stephen huffs fondly as he sits down.

"Of course we did. You always take care of us and make sure we have our own awesome birthdays, and now it's our turn to do it for you." Peter says. "There's a whole day planned for you."

"If any magical emergencies come up, Wong will take care of it today." Tony adds.

Stephen couldn't even respond before a full plate of breakfast was placed in front of him and Cassie kissed his cheek. He thanked her and started eating as the rest of them sat down with their own plates, and of course their meal was consumed quickly. It was normal for them. There was always plenty of food but it always felt like the kids were arguing over food anyway. At least it was over their favorites.

When Stephen got up to take his plate to the sink, Peter hopped out of his seat and took it from him. "I got it! You go relax!"

Relax? That hadn't been in his vocabulary for years. Especially now that he had six kids...and that wasn't even including Cassie. He did sit down on the couch though and was joined by Athena who had returned through the portal after he had finished eating. He turned on the TV and pet her head when she laid it in his lap, and enjoyed not having to worry about cleaning up. He didn't have to cook, and he didn't have to clean...it made him wonder what they had planned for him.

When Tony was finished eating dinner and he made sure the girls were okay with the older kids, he walked over to Stephen and led him back upstairs. Instead of asking him what he was doing, he waited and let himself be led up to their bathroom and over to their large tub. Tony personally leaned over to run the bath and Stephen raised an eyebrow when he pulled a box of rose petals out of nowhere.

"Tony-"

"Don't argue. Let me pamper you." He says as he adds the petals to the water.

Stephen had to admit that the smell was nice, and having his husband help him undress was even nicer. The second he was in the bath, he sank down a bit with a pleased groan as the hot water relaxed the muscles he didn't even know were stiff and Tony chuckles.

"How's that?"

"This should be a weekly thing," Stephen sighs.

"We have six kids and a handful of Avengers. Maybe monthly."

"Better than nothing."

Tony smiles. "You soak and relax, I'm about to make this even better."

"Mmm...okay."

Stephen sunk down further into the water until all but his head was submerged. The tub was large enough for that and even almost stretch out completely. The tub was so big that he was pretty sure Quill and Thor could submerge completely. By the time Tony got back, he laughed and sat on the small stool he dragged next to the tub.

"Duchess, if you sink any lower, you might drown." He chuckles again and sets a flat box on the edge on the tub.

Stephen knew exactly what it contained before his husband even opened it. Dark chocolate truffles. If he was right, they were at room temperature so that the middle was almost liquid and would melt the second it hit his tongue.

"Is it my birthday or is this foreplay?" Stephen asks as he sits up a little to grab one.

"Maybe both. Up to you." Tony teases.

"Maybe tonight before the day is over and our youngest absolutely needs my attention." The doctor purrs before popping a truffle in his mouth.

He wasn't really one to take baths, but this one was amazing. Tony made sure it remained uninterrupted so that Stephen could properly relax and the sorcerer was almost tempted to ask for a glass of wine. Almost. It was still a little too early for a glass of wine, even on his birthday. He enjoyed the remaining flowery smell from the petals and finished off half his box of truffles before he was done in the bath. When he told Tony, the other man got him his towel and led him to their bed.

"Keep the towel on and lay face down."

Stephen didn't question it and did as he was told. At least at first. Then the thought that Tony might want to give him a massage struck him. The older man wasn't really capable of giving him one with his bad arm. At least not a proper one.

"Tony, I don't want you hurting yourself to give me a day of pampering." Stephen frowns and starts to lift himself up, but Tony pushes him back down.

"Relax. I love you and as much as I would like to give you a massage myself, I know I can't. Besides, I wouldn't have had you keep the towel on if I was going to be the one doing it." He walks over to the door and opens it to let Wanda in. "Red is going to do it. With oils and everything."

"Not Scott?" Stephen jokes.

"You two do enough together when I'm not home. I'm not giving him oil."

Stephen laughs and then settles to let Wanda start the massage when Tony leaves to do whatever it was he needed to do to make sure the day went off without a hitch. The witch gave him such an amazing massage that Stephen dozed halfway through it. She found knots he didn't even know he had and worked them over gently until he was putty under her hands. From his shoulders down to his feet...and he almost moaned when she got to his feet. Now he understood why people were so infatuated with foot massages.

When she was finally done, she smiled. "How was that?" She asks in her Sokovian accent.

"Don't be surprised if I call you up in the future." Stephen says.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The doctor laid there as she gathered her oils and left the room, and it didn't take long for Tony to return. His husband wordlessly grabbed a hot, wet washcloth and walked over to the bed to wipe the oil off of Stephen and at that point, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get his body to function. He couldn't recall the last time he was this relaxed...if he ever was.

"If this was all you had planned for today, I wouldn't have any complaints." Stephen admits.

"Oh no, honey. We have dinner reservations at that Italian restaurant you like. But for now, how about you watch a couple of movies and snack on some fancy cheese and crackers until then?"

"Send my wolf up and I think I can manage that."

"Your wish is my command."

Tony tossed the washcloth into the bathroom and left the bedroom after whistling for Athena, and Stephen makes the small effort to roll onto his side when the wolf jumps onto the bed and lays next to him obediently.

"Hello there pretty girl." Stephen mutters as he pets her.

He then requested Friday to put on one of his favorite movies and he lounged under a single bed sheet (to cover his modesty just in case) to watch it. Tony brought him the promised cheese and crackers to snack on, and Stephen enjoyed the calm. A small part of him wanted his kids with him, but a bigger part won over and made him enjoy this. He knew it was rare to get a day like this so he ignored the tiny nagging feeling to have his kids be part of his day. They made plans for him and he didn't want them to go to waste, especially since he could trust the older kids to behave for a day and help with their sisters.

When five o'clock rolled around, Tony popped back into the bedroom and walked straight into their closet to pull out their dining suits. Fortunately, Stephen felt like most of his basic motor functions were back and was able to get up and get dressed and he once again emerged from the master bedroom when they were ready. Athena was told to stay with the kids, and then they were in the elevator on their way to the garage.

"How was your day so far?" Tony asks as he wraps an arm around Stephen's waist and kisses his temple.

"I don't think I've ever been so relaxed in my entire life." Stephen chuckles.

"Don't worry. I'll get you nice and wound up for when we get home and the cubs are in bed." The engineer chuckles.

A frown does briefly cross the doctor's face and Tony gives him a look.

"What? Why the look?"

"Sometimes I worry that me not aging anymore will get to you." Stephen admits.

Tony snorts. "Shouldn't I be the one worrying about that? Besides…" he smiles and rubs his thumb against a sharp cheekbone. "Don't think I haven't noticed the slight change in my wrinkles...the ones I don't have anymore."

Stephen winces. "It's not immortality or anything like that. I just...stopped your aging. The physical part anyway. You asked me not to do to you what I did to myself, but I can't do what Quill can for Scott-"

"Duchess...I'm not mad. It's fine." Tony kisses him. "It has helped me ignore our age difference when we both don't age a day. I'm pretty sure it helps with my libido." He then narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Unless you have a hand in that too."

Stephen actually laughs. "No. You're healthy libido is all you. I see no need for Viagra in our future."

"Don't even joke about that." Tony sighs dramatically. "If for some reason I can never get it up again, please put me out of my misery. I do actually like being able to make you scream."

"I do too." Stephen purrs.

And true to Tony's promise, he got Stephen so riled up at dinner, that when they got back home and the kids were asleep, he made sure the sorcerer couldn't walk the next morning. Stephen could barely talk...and it was one of the best birthdays he'd ever had.

[xfandomwritingsx]

Something More – Mike Munroe (Until Dawn)

(image source unknown)

Ashley’s 2020 December Prompts

Prompt: Christmas Lights

Warnings/Labels: Trauma. Cursing. Everything you imagine that would go with an Until Dawn fic.

Appox. Word Count: 1,200

A/N: THERE ARE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED THIS GAME. I highly recommend playing Until Dawn. It is absolutely fucking fantastic. As for notes for the story; If you are curious, deaths in this story happened as follows: Emily, Chris, and Ashley are all killed by wendigos. Matt is killed from the fall off the cliff. Mike was too slow and Jessica didn’t survive. Josh is a wendigo himself. This leaves Mike, Sam, and the reader as our only true survivors.

You don’t turn the lights off anymore. People won’t stay over at your place because you keep every light in your small apartment on at all times. They say they can’t sleep with everything lit up, but you can’t sleep in the dark. Maybe one day, but not yet.

Mike is the only one who understands. Sam does too, you suppose, but she’s half way across the country now and you’re slowly losing contact with her. Mike, on the other hand, still drops by frequently and has been there for more than his fair share of your breakdowns. He used to push you for a faster recovery, tell you facing the fears was the only way you’d ever get through it, but after one night where he called and woke you to talk him down from a panic attack of his own, he’s been much more understanding.

It’s not even been a year, you remind each other. Trauma takes time. You both hate calling it trauma. It sounds too formal, makes you sound too broken. Honestly though there’s not another word for what you went through. Watching your friends get killed and torn apart and no one believing what happened? What else could you call it?

“I brought the booze!” Mike calls as he walks through your door. He’s gotten used to using the key you’d given him and it doesn’t bother you when he waltzes in unannounced. When he comes into sight, he’s already removed his boots and has two bottles in brown paper bags in hand. So inconspicuous.

“Still snowing like a bitch?” you ask after seeing the way the white powder hasn’t all melted off his shoulders or his hair yet. You turn from your cozy spot on your couch to look out the window. It’s hard to see with all of your lights reflecting your living room back to you, the dark world outside nearly invisible.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms with too much enthusiasm. “Your place looks nice.” He looks around, taking note of your small Christmas tree in the corner along with some other well-placed decorations. You’d learned how to make the most out of your little space. Plus, it gave you something to do.

“Thanks.” He puts the bottles down on your coffee table and shakes off his jacket. “Did you bring dinner with that?” you ask skeptically. Early on, Mike had turned to alcohol to cope. It… wasn’t good. He’d pulled himself out of that hole though and now typically stuck to one or two drinks a night. You still weren’t fond of him drinking though.

“Chinese delivery dude should be here in about twenty minutes.” He smiles, all proud of himself for thinking ahead. He flops himself down on the couch next to you so hard that the cushion you’re sitting on actually bounces and you can’t help but smile back at him. “So, what are we watching?” he asks, snagging the remote off the table and pressing the Power On button.

An hour later, Chinese takeout containers and plastic silverware (because Mike was so hopelessly useless with chopsticks) are scattered among the coffee table and Mike’s snaked his way under your blanket. His added warmth is welcome. You feel like you’re always cold anymore, almost as if the sleepless night on the snowy mountain permanently chilled your bones. More trauma, you suppose.

“When do you light your tree?” he asks absentmindedly as he stares at it. You shrug and your shoulder bumps into his. Mike being extremely close is another thing you’d gotten used to. Neither of you were really sure if he felt the need to be so close because he wanted to protect you or for his own comfort. Maybe a little of both.

“Never, really,” you admit. “I don’t like the shadows on the walls.” He nods, chewing on his tongue.

“Do they make shadows with the rest of the lights on?” he questions.

“I guess not, but what’s the point when you can barely see them with the lights on?” It didn’t really bother you not to have them lit. The tree came pre-wrapped in lights. Had it not, you likely wouldn’t have put lights on it at all and instead gone for tinsel and more ornaments. He purposefully nudges your shoulder.

“Christmas spirit? Duh,” he teases. “Add a little color to life!”

“Hey, if you’re so inclined to turn them on, then be my guest.” You sweep your arm out towards the tree and he straightens his back.

“I think I will,” he declares, puffing his chest out and making you laugh. He whips the blanket off of his lap and practically marches up to the tree. It’s quite comical watching him get down on his hands and knees, looking for the plug and outlet.

It’s noticeable when he manages to turn them on. They’re not overly bright, but the little colored bulbs do spark to life and become much more apparent on the green. Mike shuffles backwards and before he stands up, looks to you with concern.

“That alright?” he asks. You nod your head, appreciative of the fact that he still asks. You’d never pegged Mike for intuitive or as caring before this year, but damn, had he surprised you.  He stands up, full of that air of confidence again. “There. That’s better.”

“I admit, it does add a little something,” you agree.

“Of course it does. When have I ever steered you wrong?” He walks back to the couch and you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Uhh, how about the roller coaster this summer?” He instantly prickles up into defense mode and points a finger at you.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you ate a chili cheese dog before getting in line!” You both break out into laughter at the memory and he sits back down, tugging the blanket back over his legs. “You got plans for Christmas?” he asks once the giggles die down.

“Nah. I’m just going to stay here.” You avoid his gaze, ashamed for no reason about your decision. “Not really ready for the looks and the probing questions from the whole family yet.” He nods his head in a bobbing motion and shifts to turn a little more towards you on the couch.

“Same,” he admits. “We could… spend it together. If you want,” he suggests in a tone that’s so familiar, but you can’t quite place it. “No one should be alone on Christmas, right?” It’s only when his mouth slips on that signature Mike Munroe smile and he reaches out to gently brush some of your hair away from your face that you recognize it. He’s flirting with you.

A lot of emotions come over you, but the ones that rise up the fastest are excitement and longing. It hits you out of nowhere. You’ve never been one to fall for a guy like Mike or even get flustered when they look your way, but suddenly there’s a pull and you want to lean into him.

“I think I’d like that,” you whisper, voice suddenly on the verge of failing you.

“Good.” It’s a strange kind of comfort to know that after everything, he’s still his same cocky self. His next words are soft and genuine and it’s probably one of the reasons you can look at him so differently now. “I’d like that too.”

You thought this was all there was for you and Mike; trauma and comfort in a never ending loop. Maybe though, maybe there’s still hope for something more.

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

*

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says. 

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead. 

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends. 

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment. 

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says. 

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

[ladylynse]

Whirlwind (SQ fic): Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call.

Chapter 10 [FF | AO3]

Previous | Timeline post

-|-

7:36 PM

“Um, guys?” Danny said as he looked up. He might not be a dragon expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d spent enough time with Dora—and Jake, really—to be able to pick out the sound of giant wingbeats above the general noise of the city.

“Not now,” Jake hissed at him, pointing with his free hand to his cell phone. “I’m still on with Trixie.”

“No, Danny’s right,” Nino said, and he must have followed Danny’s gaze. “We need to move. Now.”

There was a squeak from beside him that was probably Haley. Randy had already seen the dragon, after all. Both of them were looking up, too, and must have seen Susan fly past quickly enough that she was hardly more than a flash of deeper darkness against the cloudy sky. Nightfall worked in Jake’s favour, at least. It was hard to see much of anything up there from street level.

“Here’s the plan,” Nino said, and Danny turned to him. “Get in the air. Follow her. Stay invisible, and keep us posted via these things.” He tapped his Fenton Phone. “Randy and I will transform. We’ll be distractions, since I’m assuming we’ll still be easy targets in the dark.” Haley nodded, and he continued, “Once you’re invisible, you can get close to her and grab her necklace. Just take it and get out of there, as far as you can. Don’t break it until Jake hears back from his contact about something to contain the akuma.”

Danny hadn’t exactly tested how well being invisible at night helped combat a dragon’s magical sight, but he didn’t have to heart to say that right now. He still had a better chance than the other two. In theory, at least.

“What about me?” Haley asked.

“Dragon,” Danny reminded Nino. It was easy to forget. Jake might argue it, but Danny didn’t think Haley pulled off fierce very well.

“You’d be too much of a target.”

“Just because I’m younger than you, it doesn’t mean I’m useless! You said you wanted distractions.”

“Distractions, not bait.” Nino pulled a face. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to get hurt, and—”

“You don’t even know what I can do!”

“Let her do what she does best,” Danny suggested. “The cute little girl schtick. Sic her on McFist and Rotwood. If Trixie and Spud don’t end up fetching something from the shop, they can help her when they get here.”

Nino frowned down at Haley. “Does Rotwood know who you are?”

She shrugged. “He’s met me. He mostly focuses on Jake so he might not remember me. I might just be like any other cute little girl he’s seen.” She flashed a smile.

“I’ll give her some weapons,” Randy said. “Just a sec.” No doubt still wary of cameras, he ducked behind the dumpster and reappeared a few seconds later as the Ninja, holding out some throwing stars and different coloured balls. “These should help you keep them distracted without giving that Rotwood guy evidence of dragons.” He glanced in the direction Susan had flown and then amended, “More evidence of dragons, anyway.”

“I don’t have my backpack,” Haley said, eyeing the weapons that were overflowing from Randy’s hands.

“Here, you can take my sweater,” Nino said. He shot a worried glance at the mouth of the alley and then pulled off his hoodie, making sure to keep his back to the street. “I won’t need it as Chat Noir, anyway.”

The hooded sweatshirt swam on Haley, but it did the trick, and Randy made sure her pockets were full. “Aren’t you worried about McFist realizing that’s all Ninja stuff?” Danny asked as Nino crouched behind the dumpster to change.

“He’s bound to already know the Ninja’s in town. Or at least that a Ninja’s in town. If I’m lucky, he doesn’t realize it’s me and not, like, the Ninja of New York City.”

Danny wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was Randy’s neck, not his. Besides, his enemies all knew his real identity, and they hadn’t all used it against him. Just…most of them. He would almost swear that Technus had hacked into the school’s mainframe last time he’d attacked and figured out when Danny had major exams scheduled, as he or Skulker would invariably show up, and—

“Here, take one of these, too,” Randy said, handing one last ball to Haley. “Just be extra careful with that one. It’s a Ninja Bee Ball.”

She looked at it warily. “McFist’s not allergic, is he?”

“I have no idea. But he’d have health insurance. He’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, so Danny added, “The paramedics working the venue tonight would still be on site. Too many people are hanging around for them to have packed up and gone home. I don’t think they’d be able to just leave mid shift anyway.”

“Why is she even worried about that?” Randy asked in a loud whisper as Haley tucked away the Ninja Bee Ball and trotted to the edge of the alley, looking both ways before darting off to join the thinning crowd and find Rotwood and his new Ninja-destroying friend. “I never worry about that, and it’s always worked out for me!”

Danny shrugged. “I personally have more of a thing against ghost mosquitoes and giant hornets. If she doesn’t use it, she doesn’t use it. The important thing is that she buys us time to deal with the dragon.”

“Do you think Jake’s mom’ll even pay attention to me? She didn’t before.”

“You weren’t with me before,” Nino said, and Danny jumped. Geez, that guy could sneak up on people. Danny was far more used to sneaking up on people and scaring them than having it happen to him—mostly because of his ghost sense, but also because Tucker—

Someone shouted something made incomprehensible by distance. They all glanced in the direction it had come from, despite not being able to see anything, and waited for the screaming to start.

It didn’t.

Had no one spotted the dragon coming back? Someone must have been looking. Had she flown high enough? Or simply cleverly enough, avoiding the majority of the sightlines? Did she have some power that most dragons didn’t, something they hadn’t seen her use yet? Danny wouldn’t put anything past someone who could use magic like that, not after his experiences with Desiree.

Nino was the first to look away and call their attention back to him. “She’s clever, even more so since she has all this existing knowledge of dragons. We need to be careful, and need to take her out fast.”

“So we just, what, come out swinging?” Randy asked. “Or, ooh, how about I use my scarf to get on her back and ride her? That would be so bruce, being a dragon rider.”

Nino stared at Randy for a few seconds. His ears twitched. (Danny was pretty sure he hadn’t just imagined that. Magic would surely make it possible for the cat ears to move on their own.) After a beat, Nino said, “Well, it would be a distraction, I guess. But she’ll try to protect her necklace at any cost. She might’ve been ignoring you earlier, but she won’t if you’re that close it. And you can’t fly.”

Randy laughed; Danny wasn’t even sure if he’d been paying attention to Chat Noir’s warnings. “This will be the cheese! The Nomicon’s bound to teach me how to do the Ninja Dragon Fist after that.”

“Wait,” Danny said, remembering the term from earlier. “The Nomicon. That’s that thing that gave you that advice, right?”

Danny didn’t need to see Randy’s face to know that he was frowning. “The super unhelpful advice? Yeah. I mean, c’mon. To cleanse the soul, one must first clear the mind. I’ve figured it out now. It’s telling me to focus. As if I’m not focusing already. I mean, dragon. Super bruce. Definitely focusing on that. And trying to stop the whole panic and chaos thing from happening.”

“It’s not telling you that you need to focus,” Nino said slowly. “It’s telling you that we can get through to her.”

“What?”

Danny wasn’t entirely sure what Nino meant, either.

“Hawk Moth’s magic is a corruption of what it should be,” Nino said, as if that explained anything. “To free her of it, we need to help her clear her head. Snap her out of it.”

“By breaking the necklace and releasing the butterfly?” Randy prompted. “Isn’t that how it works?”

“But we might not need to,” insisted Nino. “You already said she’s different.” He hesitated, then amended, “At least, even if we do have to break it and free the akuma, if we can get through to her, she might be strong enough not to fight us. That would make your job a lot easier, Phantom.”

Danny wasn’t going to bet that anything would be easy, but he’d take easier if it wouldn’t blow up in their faces. Which it almost certainly would. His luck was terrible, Jake’s was obviously no better, Randy’s couldn’t be great if this McFist guy had shown up, and Nino, well…. Bad luck was following him around right now, even if it didn’t usually back in Paris—although the fact that he was a masked hero no doubt meant it did, even though this Hawk Moth guy not having what he wanted yet was definitely a point in cat boy’s favour.

Maybe a whole bunch of awful luck mixed with effort, skill, and desperation would let them come out on top.

“Might as well try it. Worst that happens is that it doesn’t work,” Danny said. “You guys head out; I’ll fill in Jake and catch up.”

They both nodded before jumping into action, Nino extending his staff and immediately disappearing to the rooftops and Randy darting across the street before swinging up to climb a fire escape on the other side. Danny drifted over to Jake, who didn’t look particularly happy. He held up one finger and kept talking to Trixie.

He finished, flipped the phone closed with a groaned, “Aw, maaaan,” and Danny didn’t need to ask.

Instead, Danny said, “Nino thinks Randy’s Nomicon thing might be saying we can get through this without freeing the akuma. He’s not sure and was hoping you’d have something to deal with it, but I’m guessing not.”

“Yeah, not. It’s not like I have Pandora’s Box just lying around.”

“It’s in the Ghost Zone,” Danny reminded him.

“So you say.” Jake sighed. “G can’t think of anything we have that won’t eventually be affected by the corrupted magic.”

“How soon of an eventually? Could Nino get back to Paris with it?”

“It would be more likely to get out while he was still on the plane, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Fu’s got Marty on guard duty at the shop, at least, but he can only pull so many strings, and I don’t know if he can get something to us in time.” He hesitated. “Do you think we could use your Infi-Map? That’s how you got here, isn’t it?”

“It’s not exactly my map,” Danny said slowly. “I can’t really control it. It takes you where you need to be more often than where you want to go.”

“But wouldn’t you and Nino need to be in Paris to get Ladybug’s help?”

“Probably,” Danny allowed, “but we’re just as likely to wind up somewhere else. If it were that reliable, we could use it to find this Hawk Moth guy and fight him instead of your mom. Besides, Nino and I wouldn’t both need to be back in the NYC, and how’s Nino going to explain how he got home if he disappears here? Or if the map takes us somewhere else entirely? I can fly, but he would not be comfortable piggybacking that way for a long trip, even if I went intangible.”

Jake frowned. “Fine. What about one of your parent’s ghost-catching thermoses?”

“It contains ghostly magic. It might work. I dunno. It’s not like I’ve ever tried it. Does Spud still have the one he made?”

Jake nodded and flipped his phone back open, already typing as he said, “He should. I’ll text him. He can grab it, just in case.” He met Danny’s gaze for a second, adding, “I’m assuming we need to be fighting now, since the others are gone.”

“Nino might be right, you know. If Rotwood’s here and you show up, he’ll have a field day.”

“As if he’s not going to already?”

“Haley’s going to try to distract him and this McFist guy. Did you put Trixie and Spud on that, too?”

“She’s going to do a quick scout of the shop in case Fu or Gramps forgot anything, but Spud’s going to come and do that, yeah. Well, I guess he’ll head home for the thermos and then come do that. They’ll both come, anyway. Just not right away. And Haley said Sun’s going to start doing damage control for us instead of being another set of eyes. She figures that’ll be of more use. Which I guess it is, since Mom—” Jake’s voice broke “—I mean, the dragon came back. I know G was talking about spreading rumours of this being something it’s not, but honestly Sun will be better at that kind of thing than he is.”

Danny bit his lip. “You’re not going to sit this out, are you?”

“I’m the American Dragon. You know I can’t.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the ruined gala and added, “The fire was my fault, Mom getting akumatized was my fault, and the fact that this Hawk Moth guy has been active in Paris is basically our fault, too. Dragons are supposed to protect the magical world, and the French Dragon hasn’t been replaced since the Strigoi got him.”

“Too few in number, huh?”

Jake just grunted. He probably didn’t care about the politics of it all. He would just care that people were getting hurt. And that Hawk Moth was giving magic and magical creatures a bad name at the same time as convincing a lot of people they existed.

“You dragon up. I’ll stick with you and keep you invisible for as long as I can. When I get an opening, I’ll grab the necklace—and hopefully your appearance will be enough of a distraction if Randy and Nino aren’t.”

“Remember that dragons can touch ghosts,” Jake said, as if Danny didn’t remember all the inconvenient things about dealing with living dragons. Still, truth was, they needed to surprise Hawk Moth more than Susan. She might know a lot about dragons, but it was highly unlikely he did. “And even when you’re invisible, if I’m really looking, I can see you. Sorta. In the right light.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I remember.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d worked with Jake. If they pulled this off, it likely wouldn’t be the last. It was nice, knowing he’d have a magical ally he could call upon if things ever got a particular type of tricky, and…. And it would be nice if the others decided they felt that way, too, when this was all over, however it ended up.

7:41 PM

Haley wasn’t sure she looked as cute as she possibly could while wearing Nino’s oversized hoodie with its pockets stuffed to bursting, but she still had a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. The plaza was easily well lit enough for people to see it, too, which helped. Showing her smile instead of her fear meant most people didn’t give her a second glance.

The first task was getting through the crowd without being stopped, so she employed the usual tactic of attaching herself to the nearest adult whenever someone noticed her. It was easy enough to pretend to be part of someone else’s group for a few seconds, either as a daughter or a family friend. People didn’t question it; they didn’t expect someone her age to be alone, so they saw what they wanted to see, especially when she kept the worry off her face.

When she needed to keep moving, she’d look for someone going in the direction she wanted to go and follow them, just closely enough that it looked natural but not so closely that they’d get that sense of being followed unless they were really good. In her experience, most people weren’t, especially old white men like Rotwood and McFist—and there were enough of those around a place like this, often accompanied with women wearing dresses that could amount to her mom’s yearly salary.

Haley never specifically called out for any parents, of course—it wouldn’t do for heads to turn and no one’s face to light up with recognition or relief—but she did occasionally raise her hand to wave to someone who wasn’t there, banking on the fact that anyone who noticed would think she was waving at someone else. She never answered anyone else’s call for someone with coming, but she would make a show of perking up and moving in that direction if it were where she wanted to go.

It was the little things. Young children on their own in a place like this? Suspicious. Curious youngsters exploring rumours of a dragon sighting who accidentally got separated from their parents, but not straying far enough that they couldn’t be found again? Much more likely.

Nino’s hoodie might actually help her in that respect. It just screamed having a big brother, even though it still smelled new and the forgotten tail of a plastic tag sometimes poked the back of her neck.

Haley stopped where she thought Rotwood wouldn’t notice her. He and McFist had stopped themselves and were talking; she couldn’t make out their words without resorting to ear of the dragon, but that was risky if Rotwood recognized her despite having her hood up.

Her job was to distract them while the others found and fought—saved—her mom.

She could do that.

If her usual cuteness failed her—that is, if Rotwood recognized her—then she’d simply lead them away and keep them busy with everything Randy had given her.

Haley glanced skyward one last time, took a deep breath, and then walked over and tugged on McFist’s arm. “Excuse me, mister?”

He glanced down at her, annoyance melting into confusion. “I’m, ah, not whoever you’re looking for. I’m in the middle of a business meeting. Maybe you could talk to someone else.”

It was a politer version of ‘get lost, kid’ than she’d expected, but she stuck out her bottom lip and let it quiver. “I’m scared.”

He frowned at her. “Of the dragon? I don’t know if it’s coming back.”

They hadn’t noticed Susan’s return. Haley tried not to let her relief show on her face. “I hope it doesn’t,” she whimpered, edging closer to McFist as Rotwood dropped into a crouch.

“You saw this dragon?” he asked, and she saw him blink in startled recognition even as she turned her face away. “Wait. I have seen you before. You are Jake Long’s sister!”

She cowered behind McFist’s leg, burying her face in his jacket, but Rotwood didn’t buy it. He grabbed her arm and pulled, ignoring McFist’s surprised shout. “You see this girl?” Rotwood said to McFist, brandishing the arm he still held and shaking her enough that her hood slipped down. She guarded the full pockets with her free hand, trying not to lose any of the ammunition she’d need to use sooner rather than later at this rate. “She is a dragon!”

“Right,” McFist said, and Haley knew from Rotwood’s souring expression that she wasn’t the only one who’d caught McFist’s quick glances to the side.

“I am telling you the truth!” insisted Rotwood. “She is a dragon, just like her brother!”

Rotwood had nothing on him to force a change on her—he would have pulled it out already if he had—so Haley let out another whimper of fear. Whatever she might tell the others later, it wasn’t faked. She had to put on a brave face, especially around Jake or he’d have sent her home with loud complaints about regretting asking for her help, but she knew exactly how scary this was and exactly how much was at risk if the situation got much worse.

She didn’t know for sure that McFist had been in the crowd earlier, but she didn’t think Rotwood would still be talking to him if he hadn’t been, which meant McFist had seen her mother. He’d seen the dragon. If Rotwood couldn’t convince him that dragons were real after that—

“They hide,” Rotwood hissed, shaking her again. Haley looked around, but no one else was looking their way. If anyone saw anything, they were ignoring it. She swallowed back the bitterness in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to be seen, but it still hurt. How could people just ignore this?

“Hide.” McFist’s voice was flat. Good. Maybe he didn’t believe Rotwood after all. That would work in her favour. That would—

“They wear human skin. This is just how she looks as a human!”

Rotwood gave her another violent shake, and Haley felt one of the throwing balls Randy had given her slip out of the hoodie’s pocket and past her fingers.

It hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled to a stop between them.

Rotwood stopped shaking her, staring with McFist at the little blue ball that now rested on the cobbles at their feet.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then McFist said, “Wait, is that—?”

Ice erupted, frosting the street within a five foot radius, and Haley jerked free of Rotwood’s arm. She clamped one arm around her waist to contain the rest of her weapons as she bent down and shot a small flicker of fire towards her shoes, thawing it enough to wrench her feet free.

She only took two steps before another hand caught her arm, strong metal fingers digging into her through the thick fabric of the hoodie.

“Where, exactly,” McFist said, in a low growl that told her he’d be shouting if it wouldn’t have drawn more attention to them, as if the ice at their feet weren’t suspicious enough, “did you get a Ninja Cold Ball?”

7:41 PM

“That’s Chat Noir.” Hawk Moth’s voice rang in her head. “I need his ring.”

Susan could see the ring in question as easily as she could see Chat Noir himself. He was surefooted, running with ease where others would hesitate and wobble and balance precariously, and he used his staff as an extension of himself, vaulting through the air without needing to think about where he positioned it before he leapt. That spoke of talent, skill, and oh so much practice.

This was far from Chat Noir’s first fight, which meant Hawk Moth hadn’t yet managed to best him.

Hawk Moth’s search for power had brought him here, to find a way to conquer his enemies. It was laughable that his enemy—one of his enemies?—had found him. Even if it were mere coincidence, it hardly boded well for his venture.

“Focus,” Hawk Moth hissed. “If you cannot focus, perhaps I’ll need to find a way to draw out your son.”

“A trade, then.” It was not something she should be contemplating. “My son for this Chat Noir.”

“We have already struck our bargain, Dracona.” The name sent a shudder through her, and she lost a bit of height as she spasmed. “You’ve already agreed to fetch me Chat Noir’s ring, just as you agreed to tell me about this city’s heroes.”

Tell, but not sacrifice. Tell, but not necessarily turn against.

She could fulfill their bargain to the letter, but she didn’t need to fulfill the spirit of it if she could find a way around it. She could still save her son. She could still keep Haley from being involved. She could still—

She couldn’t save Chat Noir without endangering Jake and the others.

Not if Chat Noir crossed her path.

She’d only agreed to fetch his ring if he crossed her path.

She banked abruptly to her right, hearing a surprised, “What the juice?” from the Ninja as he pulled up short.

There was more shouting behind her, no doubt as Chat Noir joined the Ninja, but she didn’t look back.

“Dracona.”

She could feel his threat reverberating in her bones.

“You cannot break our agreement. Now turn around and fight them!”

The heat was rising in her belly. Each wingbeat was becoming more strained, weighted by her foolish promise. How could she have sacrificed anyone’s freedom for her own? And yet— How could she give this up, now that she’d tasted it? If Chat Noir had fought people like her before, he’d know exactly how to take all of this away from her.

She didn’t want to let him do that.

She didn’t want to give Hawk Moth any reason to try to use Jake against her. She was sure he still didn’t quite know, didn’t quite understand, but he knew and understood enough. He knew she considered Jake a hero, knew he’d fought against people much like Hawk Moth before, and he— He might even know that Jake was special—magical—even if he didn’t know why.

But Jake would be here soon enough whether or not Hawk Moth tried to deliberately draw him out.

She was circling back before she realized what she was doing. She dodged a fireball shot at her by the Ninja and sent one at him in return. She could deal with him easily enough if he became a problem, but ultimately, he wasn’t her concern. He wasn’t one of this town’s heroes. He wasn’t Chat Noir. She didn’t have to…. She could spare him.

Chat Noir darted in front of her, joining the Ninja. She could hear his frantic whispers, about Hawk Moth, about what he thought he knew about her. He was a fool, just as she’d been a fool.

She couldn’t protect Chat Noir. Certainly, she couldn’t protect him if she wanted to protect Jake. She’d have to get this ring. She could feel how much Hawk Moth wanted it. It was real, tangible, so much more useful than information he couldn’t easily apply. If she succeeded in this, he might be satisfied.

Chat Noir and the Ninja split up. She focused on her target, whose acrobatics were better than some of the Huntsclan initiates she’d met—about as good as Huntsgirl’s had been before she’d only become Rose and never one of the Huntsclan.

Behind her, the Ninja’s latest fireball rolled harmlessly off her scales. She adjusted her wings and weight and whipped her tail in his general direction, spinning into a roll with the additional momentum. Even though she didn’t hit anything, she heard a yelp behind her. She shot forward at an angle to Chat Noir, keeping him in her sights. He danced away from her, staying just past what he must think was the reach of her flame.

Pity he’d misjudged the distance.

The plume of fire she sent at him was still short of how far she could send it, if necessary, but it was long enough for what she wanted. Her goal was to cut him off and force him to his left; nothing more. He flipped away from the fire, and she started to follow his movements, but a hand-shaped wave closed around her flame and turned to steam, neatly providing a screen for Chat Noir’s escape.

Seems she hadn’t done enough to knock the Ninja off his game after all.

She hadn’t wanted to involve him, but she wouldn’t have a choice if he insisted on involving himself. She needed to finish this quickly, before Jake tried to get involved. She wasn’t sure she could protect him if he came.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she intended to hurt Chat Noir or the Ninja. She didn’t. She simply wanted Chat Noir’s ring. Now, if they got hurt trying to stop her, well, she could hardly pull all her punches and expect to finish this soon enough to avoid Jake’s interference.

A few heavy wingbeats brought her higher and forced the Ninja and Chat Noir to brace themselves. Chat Noir had planted his staff against the rooftop, and both he and the Ninja were hanging onto it, heads together. Indistinct murmuring reached her ears, but rather than focus to figure out what they were saying, she sent a blast of fire at them and drove them apart.

They spiralled in opposite directions. The Ninja reached into his pocket to pull out another one of those ice bombs of his. He lobbed it in her direction, and it caught the tip of her foot as she moved away. She shrieked as not ice but electricity erupted from it, racing through her body and causing her to drop. She hit the roof, something snapping beneath her weight, and the Ninja conjured another fist of water and threw it at her. Before she had time to blink all the water from her eyes, he’d tossed more of those Ninja Electro-Balls at her.

Chat Noir vaulted back into view before she’d found her feet, no doubt hoping the Ninja’s attack had incapacitated her. She waited and caught her breath, more than happy to pretend that all those Ninja Rings and Ninja Throwing Stars the Ninja was hurling her way hurt more than they did. He clearly had no idea how much her scales protected her, and she felt no need to correct his assumption right now.

Now that the electricity had dispersed, Chat Noir was coming at her in a zigzagging run. He split his staff into two as he went and then threw one half. She twisted her head out of the way—it had been aimed for her eye—and sent a stream of flame at his other hand, intending to heat the metal before he could throw it.

She saw the Ninja’s scarf wrap around his torso and jerk him backwards before her fire could reach him. The Ninja gave Chat Noir a handful of coloured balls and then sprinted behind her and out of sight, considering she wasn’t about to take her eyes off Chat Noir. She thrashed her tail, hoping to knock the Ninja off his feet even as Chat Noir took aim and began to throw.

To say that the first explosion stung was an understatement, and she gave up her pretence of helplessness as two more followed in quick succession. She was recovered enough now, and she didn’t like being made the fool.

Her first step forward proved to be a mistake, as her foot slipped out from under her in a pile of marbles. She sent her full force of flame at Chat Noir then, but the Ninja was back with his staff, and he’d rejoined the halves and was spinning it to dissipate her fire.

They were talking again.

She was getting so tired of them talking. Planning. Plotting. She just needed Chat Noir’s ring. She simply—

The Ninja’s suit burned red with magic, her split-second warning that another fireball was coming her way. She met it with her own, raising herself up with a roar and using the wind from her wingbeats to try to knock them off their feet again. This time, the Ninja toppled, unprepared, though Chat Noir crouched and managed to keep his feet.

“You must get his ring,” whispered Hawk Moth in her head, “but do not let him touch your necklace.”

They were fighting her from a distance.

For them, that made it a fairer fight.

But she didn’t have to fight fair.

She could get close to them without letting them get too close to her.

She sent another blast of fire towards them as cover before flying over the flames and diving toward them, talons outstretched.

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[openheartchoices]

Pizza & Icing (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pizza & Icing - Open Heart: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Olivia Summers)

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: none except some angst.

Summary: When Ethan makes Olivia cry on her birthday, he’s determined to make it, and all his other decisions, up to her with a little bit of pizza and icing.

A/N: hi everyone! I love choices and have been a fan since march 2018. I love to write, and this is my first time posting anything i’ve written about choices. I love reading choices fics, so I thought I’d make a new side blog dedicated to choices to give it a shot. lots of love and happy reading! <3

In three, two, one-

“Happy birthday to me,” Dr. Olivia Summers muttered cheerfully under her breath as she bit into the cheesy slice of pizza topped with a thin layer of white icing. While she couldn’t be home for her birthday this year, she at least had a piece of her childhood with her: cheese pizza with icing. She had made the discovery of how good it was when she accidentally let icing from a piece of cake at birthday party make its way onto her pizza when she was eight-years-old. Ever since then, it was a tradition for her to top a slice of pizza off with icing.

The clock on the wall above her read that it was only three minutes past twelve as she held the pizza slice in her hand in an attempt to not eat it all in one bite. Her shift had just ended, and she was in Dr. Ramsey’s office where she had talked him into letting her store her container with two slices of pizza and a tub of icing while she worked through the day. Fortunately for her, they had both worked the same shift. However, Olivia had no idea where he was considering she was pretty positive he was on the same schedule as her and should’ve just gotten off also.

Olivia’s relationship with Ethan Ramsey was, well, complicated.

She knew they’d had something special even if Ethan’s stubborn self didn’t want to admit it. In an attempt to shut her out, Ethan kept things strictly professional. Ethan letting her store her pizza and icing in his office was the only thing that had happened between them beyond work. Lingering stares no longer existed from him. Olivia couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had a real conversation. It was probably before he left for two months with zero contact. He came back different, and Olivia still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

As she sat down on the small sofa in his office while looking out the window into the night, she couldn’t help but feel like she probably should’ve just gone on home instead of waiting on him, and she couldn’t but wonder if maybe he still felt the same as she did. Olivia understood why he did what what he did in a weird way, but she mostly didn’t. She didn’t get how easily he got up and walked away while he knew it was hurting her.

Olivia called him while he was away in the Amazon. The first time was an honest mistake. She had meant to click on Elijah’s contact to ask him to let her in the apartment after she had forgotten her keys one night, but she didn’t notice when she clicked on the name under Elijah. However, once it started to ring, and Olivia started to raise the phone to her ear, her eyes went wide as she frantically ended the call.

The next time and the time after that and the other times, though, they weren’t mistakes.

She yearned to just hear his voice. Olivia wanted to know why he wouldn’t answer her calls or any of her texts. It hurt a whole lot, and she broke down crying in her room late at night more times than she wanted to admit. One simple explanation would’ve been better and easier than two months of absolutely nothing.

Olivia was so deep into her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed the sound of the door opening until she turned her head to see Ethan giving her a look of surprise. “What are you doing? And is that icing on your pizza?”

“Oh, sorry. I-I just needed a minute. I’m going to leave soon anyways,” Olivia stuttered as she waved the container around that still had another slice in it. “Do you want a piece? It’s cold, but it’s still good.”

“You can stay, and I’ll pass on the pizza. I prefer my pizza without cake decorations,” Ethan said as he maneuvered his way to his desk and took off his white coat. He laid the coat down before he awkwardly made eye contact with Olivia.

The two stared at each other for a minute until Olivia finally decided to break the stare and look out the window again. Ethan slowly walked over to sofa she sat on with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his navy dress pants and sat beside her, but making sure to keep his distance. He watched as Olivia sank her teeth into the odd combination of food. “Why are you eating pizza with icing at twelve A.M. in my office when you should probably going home for some sleep?”

“It’s my birthday,” Olivia said softly as she looked down at the pizza in her hand. “I made it a tradition to eat icing on my pizza every year since I was eight. None of my friends or family ever liked it, so I just kinda did it for me. I just wanted to keep the tradition up. And I’m in your office because you left the door open.”

Ethan frowned. “It’s your birthday?” He suddenly felt bad for not knowing.

“It is as of a few minutes ago. Had to wait for the clock to strike twelve, but yes. I’m officially a year older.” Olivia bit into her pizza again and chewed slowly while still refusing to meet his eye.

She wanted to ask him what his deal was. She wanted to break down the walls he had surrounding him. She wanted to yell at him, cry a little bit, and maybe even slap him across the face, but she was at the point where she just felt exhausted. Her mind raced constantly about Ethan. It was getting to the point where she was hardly even sleeping.

Ethan definitely noticed that something was wrong with Olivia as he really took her in for the first time since he had come back. There were dark bags under her eyes, she was more reserved, her voice was quiet instead of peppy, and he had a big feeling that the changes he noticed in her was because of him.

“I suppose a ‘happy birthday’ is in order, Rookie.”

Olivia didn’t answer, but she felt her heart skip a beat when he said that stupid nickname and silently cursed herself for still letting him have that effect over her. She bit her lip and continued to stare out the window. “I like this view from your office. I’ve been in here many times, but I’ve never really paid attention to anything. It’s almost as nice as your apartment view. You have a gorgeous view in front of you every day.”

“I agree. I do have a gorgeous view every day,” Ethan replied while looking straight at Olivia. She didn’t notice his eyes on her until she looked at him, and they locked eyes, unable to look away for the first time in almost three months.

“Can I ask you a question?” Olivia asked as she looked straight into his eyes.

“It depends what the question is.”

Olivia gulped. It was now or never, and she preferred now over the latter. She placed her half-eaten slice of pizza back in the container and put it away. “Why didn’t you contact me while you were gone?”

“Summers, we really need to put the thing we had behind us. It’s better for the both of us.”

She laughed harshly, surprising both herself and Ethan. “Really? It’s better for the both of us, or it’s better for you? Because I can promise you that it’s not better for me. I’ve been a mess, Ethan, and it’s all because of you. You’ve been back for three weeks, and I’m lucky to even get an acknowledgement when I walk by you after everything we had. What is your problem?”

Olivia watched as Ethan ran a hand through his dark hair. “Can we not be mature and professional about this? You’re on my team. I’m your boss.”

“We crossed the mature and professional line when we kissed for the first time,” Olivia muttered under her breath.

Ethan’s mind flashed back to when they did, in fact, cross the mature and professional line for the first time. He remembered the way Olivia shined in her stunning dress, how she told him she had been wanting that kiss near the railing in the moonlight. While he remembered the kiss very well, what stuck out the most to him was when he told her that what they were doing was unethical.

He left her there after telling her they couldn’t be together and shouldn’t have kissed. He left her, Olivia, who always opened her heart to him. And not only did he do it once, he did it time and time again. She deserved better, and that angered him.

“I’m not putting our careers at risk because of some fling!” Ethan shouted. As soon as the words left his mouth and when he saw the look on Olivia’s face, he instantly regretted what words had come tumbling out of his mouth, but he stayed silent.

Olivia’s face fell. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and tried to blink them away. However, she proved to be unsuccessful when the tears hit her cheeks like waterfalls.  “Is that what it was to you?” She whispered. “Just a fling?”

She took his silence as an answer. Olivia nodded numbly before she looked in his eyes once again. “Can you at least tell me why? Is it because I wasn’t pretty enough for you? Not smart enough? Not mature enough?” She let out a shaky breath. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?”

If Olivia wasn’t hurt before, she sure was now. And if Ethan wasn’t feeling guilty before, he most certainly was now. He watched as a tear fell down her cheek. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and wipe it away with his thumb, but he stood his ground without looking her in the eye.

With a sniffle, Olivia hastily grabbed her bag that was sitting in the floor beside her. She stood up, straightened out her skirt, and ran a hand over her face with stained tears. 

“Goodbye, Dr. Ramsey,” she whispered as she made a beeline for the door.

As soon as Olivia was out the door, Ethan ran his hands over his face. “You idiot, Ramsey,” he mumbled to himself. He felt even worse when the realization hit that not only did he make her cry, he made her cry on her birthday. It took one look at the container of pizza and the tub of icing that had been left behind to make him get up, grab his keys, and make his way to Edenbrook’s gift shop.

—

When Olivia got back to her and friends’ shared apartment, she was filled with relief to find that Jackie and Sienna were working night shift while Aurora and Elijah were already asleep meaning she wouldn’t have to answer questions as to why it was obvious she had been crying. After she had changed into an oversized shirt and leggings, she plopped down on the living room couch to scroll through Pictagram to get her mind off the night she’d had.

Knowing that she meant nothing to Ethan other than a meaningless fling cut a hole deep inside her heart. Olivia had dated guys in the past. A few dates here and there in high school and two or three boyfriends through college and medical school, but she had never been involved in a serious breakup that broke her heart. She had never been in a relationship that wasn’t even a relationship, yet hurt like a breakup when it ended.

There was always a first time for everything.

Olivia was focused on watching a clip of an interview with Matt Rodriguez gush about his wife and how she was his rock. She hit the heart turning it red. She had to admit, she had always been a fan of not only Matt, but love in general. A knock on the door interrupted Olivia as she continued to scroll down the addictive app.

Frowning, Olivia stood up and ran her hands through her tangled blonde hair in an attempt to look somewhat presentable. She assumed it had maybe been Sienna who had been too tired to take the time to dig out her keys and unlock the door, but what she saw when she opened the door was the last thing she expected to see.

Ethan Ramsey was standing outside the door holding a whole box of pizza with a full, unopened tub of white icing sitting on top of the box while he held a card in his free hand with a guilty expression upon his face.

“W-what?” Olivia was too shocked to say anything else or fathom any other thoughts.

“Could we talk?”

“I-I mean, I guess. Uh, come in.” Olivia held the door open wider and gestured for him to come in. Yes, she was still beyond upset with him, but it was October, and the air was starting to get cold at night. She was mad, but she didn’t want him to be cold even though she was convinced he was a walking heater.

He sat the things in his hands down on the table in front of the couch before sitting down on it with Olivia following. Neither of them said anything, but Ethan felt even more guilty when he saw her puffy face as an indication she had been crying not long before he showed up.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Ethan said after a moment of silence. “Back in my office, I don’t know what came over me. You are more than a fling. It wasn’t because you’re not pretty, smart, or mature. Don’t ever doubt yourself.” He let out a breath before adding, “It was never because I thought you weren’t good enough. You’re better than good, Olivia, and you deserve better.”

Olivia thought her heart was going to explode as Ethan stared her down with his blue eyes that she had always loved. Here was the man she wanted right in front of her. He was sitting on her couch and apologizing, yet Olivia wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

“I never wanted better, Ethan,” she whispered, careful to not wake her sleeping roommates up. “I just wanted you. And you pushed me away after you made me believe you wanted me, too. That was really low of you to call what we had just a fling.”

Ethan sighed, his heart breaking at the sight of the broken look upon Olivia’s face as she stared at him with a puffy face, her beauty still managing to make his heart flutter like it only did around her.

“I know, and I’ll spend forever apologizing for calling you a fling. I did want you. No, I want you in present tense.”

He sounded so sure of it that Olivia really believed he meant it, so she let him keep talking.

“I didn’t want to jeopardize anything. Our relationship- it won’t be easy. It was never easy. There is so much we have to work through. I should have talked to you instead of shutting you out. I just thought it would be better this way,” he continued. “I’m sorry. I brought you pizza, icing, and a birthday card from the hospital gift shop to show you how sorry I am.”

She wanted to question him more and make him answer, but something inside her told her to just let it go for the night. He went out of his way in an attempt to apologize. It was something he wasn’t used to. And he did it for her. She would let it go for tonight.

Ethan Ramsey, the man who never let anyone in, was letting Olivia in. And for that, she was going to swoop right in while he was letting her.

“This isn’t over. We’ll talk more later,” Olivia said. “For now, though, I’d like a piece of pizza. I don’t know where you got a full cheese pizza at when it’s this time, but I’m not complaining. I’ll get some plates if you can grab a plastic knife for the icing. They’re in the second drawer next to the sink.”

Olivia and Ethan made their way into the kitchen. Ethan rummaged through the drawer while Olivia fiddled through the cabinets trying to find where Aurora stuck the plates after she had volunteered to wash the dishes. They weren’t paying attention though when they both went opposite ways and crashed into each other.

All the air in Olivia’s lungs left her when she looked up at Ethan who was looking down on her. This was closest they had been in a long time. She could feel the heat radiating off him. Olivia didn’t want to move a muscle in fear that the moment would end as soon as it began. She had missed being this close to him.

They had somehow moved closer together, if even possible, with their bodies pressed against one another’s. Ethan dropped the plastic knife on the counter beside him, his eyes never leaving Olivia’s. His hand snaked up to push a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. The hand then fell to lightly rest on her cheek.

“God, the things you do to me, Liv,” he breathed out in a soft whisper. “You take my breath away.”

Olivia’s eyes darted down to his lips. She hesitated before bringing her forehead close to rest against his and wrap her arms around his neck. They were so close to kissing that all it would take would be for one of them to move half an inch.

Olivia was the one to finally close her eyes and connect their lips. The movement of their lips was light like they were both afraid of breaking each other. However, the minute that Ethan pulled back and let out a breath that danced across Olivia’s face, he went back in to connect their lips in a kiss for the second time.

The second kiss conveyed everything the two of them wanted to say without words. Olivia moved a hand up to the nape of his neck while Ethan cupped both sides of her face. Their lips moved in sync with Ethan being the one to deepen the kiss with his tongue slightly darting out to slide across her lip. Olivia let out a sigh of pleasure as she attempted to pull him even closer.

They maneuvered around so that Olivia was pressed against the kitchen counter with Ethan towering over her, their lips still connected as Ethan moved a hand to her lower back, his fingertips ghosting across her exposed hip. Olivia felt like her hip was on fire even after the lightest of touches.

Feeling light-headed, Olivia pulled back with her eyes softly shut. “I think you’re the one that takes my breath away. Literally.”

She let out a giggle while she still tried to catch her breath. Olivia opened her eyes to see Ethan, just as breathless as her, staring at her with a soft smile. “Pizza now?”

Olivia smiled. She pressed a firm kiss against his lips before pulling back to grin at him. “Only if you’ll try it with icing.”

“I suppose I could do that.”

[yikesharringrove]

How do you imagine Billy and Steve cooking together, with Steve being a little inexperienced and Billy teaching him the basics?

So, I’m actually more of the school that Steve can cook, since I see him as being left at home a lot, and I see Neil as not letting Billy experiment around in the kitchen, which is what most of learning to cook is but I love getting anons and asks and prompts and I’ll write pretty much anything y’all send in.

So I’m currently reading an amazing fic on ao3 about chef Billy teaching Steve to cook and its 🥺 it’s called Lamp-Bright Rind and you can find it here. I HIGHLY recommend it, seriously its SO GOOD.

The more Billy stayed over at Steve’s place, the ore he noticed what Steve ate.

He would make a lot of sandwiches, always had plenty of sliced meat and cheese in the fridge. He had frozen meals stoked in the freezer in the kitchen, as well as an icebox in the garage. Some were stor bought things, some were casseroles and lasagnas with baking directions written on post-it notes in handwriting Billy recognized as Claudia Henderson’s.

But Steve would also order out a lot. There would always be take out containers and pizza boxes shoved in the trash can.

He once came over to find Steve eating a whole head of romaine lettuce just, like that.

So Billy put his foot down.

“Pretty Boy, is there anything you know how to cook?”

“I can bake the casseroles Claudia gives me.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then, uh, no.” He was looking down, ashamed of himself. Billy moved forward, taking his face between his hands, forcing Steve to look at him.

“That’s okay. You want me to show you some stuff?”

They started with eggs.

Billy showed him how to make fluffy scrambled eggs, gooey and cheesy. Steve would giggle as Billy stood behind him, arms wrapped around his middle, planting kisses into the skin of his neck.

He showed him how to make a fried egg, the whites crisp on the tips, the yolk soft and gooey.

They moved on to pasta, just buttered noodles with some salt and garlic. Next time they made sauce, pouring one from a jar and adding spices to taste.

Steve would flick noodles at Billy and laugh when he tried to catch them in his mouth.

They made pancakes in the morning, in nothing but their underwear, burning the first batch when they got distracted making out against the counter.

Steve was so proud of the lasagna they made, he brought one over to Mrs. Henderson.

Sometimes things didn’t go well, though. When Steve would get distracted doing something, and would burn the onions on the stove, and he would get real hard on himself and work himself up and Billy would have to halt all operations for the day in order to soothe Steve and after a day or two, he could eventually coax him back into the kitchen.

So they did this for awhile, Steve working through lots of easier recipes, so he had an idea of a way to thank Billy.

He looked up a few nice recipes, went to the grocery store, and when Billy came over to hang out Steve had dinner on the table, perfect rare steaks and garlic mashed potatoes and lemon zested green beans and the fancy table in the fancy dinning room was set with candles and they ate dinner together.

And Billy couldn’t help but imagine their life, when they ran away together, and cooked each other delicious meals in the home they shared, and burned pancakes because they were too busy making out against the counter.

[leiascully]

Fic:  Five Bets Eliot Lost (Mostly On Purpose) And One He Didn’t (Leverage, OT3, T)

4700/16500 words; T for swearing and references to sex; Eliot and Hardison finally go fishing; read on AO3

Part 1/5: Triple Chocolate Cookies Part 2/5: Three Garlic Pasta  Part 3/5: Three Bean Chili

"You know what I was thinking?" Hardison said out of the blue one day when they were between jobs.  

"Do I look like a mind reader?" Eliot asked, which gave him a little pang, because it was something his momma used to say.

"I was thinking we never did get to go fishing," Hardison said, ignoring him.  "You know, our special little date you set up."

"It wasn't a date," Eliot growled.  "It was a regular boys' trip."

"Yeah, you know those are all dates, right?" Hardison drawled.  

Eliot frowned.  "It's not a date when you eat at the bait shop."

"Oh, you weren't gonna take me to the bait shop," Hardison said.  "No sir.  We were gonna bring all those fish home and fry 'em up and that's what you were going to feed me.  Not some kind of bait shop sandwich with plastic cheese on it, all full of salmonella and what have you."

"You don't know what you're missing," Eliot said, shaking his head.  "Eating at the bait shop is an experience."  

"It's not an experience I need to have," Hardison said.  

"Well, too bad, I guess," Eliot told him, and grinned.  "Because we're going fishing."

"That's good," Hardison said, "because I did get us these fishing licenses."  He brandished two pieces of paper.  

"You paid for 'em?" Eliot asked.  Hardison nodded.  "Huh.  Figured you'd just hack the system or whatever."

"And have you take me on the kind of date where we get arrested?" Hardison demanded.  It hit something inside Eliot every time Hardison insisted it was a date.  He was going to do his damndest not to think about it, he decided.  Hardison was still talking.  "I'm not going down because some hat-wearing Game and Fish Commission dude needs to meet his quota for the month.  Besides, you're paying for lunch and reels and worms or whatever.  Seemed fair."  

"That's how I know it's not a date," Eliot said, squinting sideways up at Hardison.  "Because when I take someone on a date, they don't pay for anything.  It's all taken care of."  It was just banter, obviously.  He wasn't flirting with Hardison.  But they'd always gone back and forth, just normal stuff, because he'd never been able to resist messing with a guy with a brain as big as Hardison's.  

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison said.  "It's the twenty-first century, man.  Everybody splits the check."  He clapped Eliot on the shoulder.  "Let's go fishing."

"Find us a spot," Eliot told him, and Hardison's eyes lit up a little.  

They found a sweet little spot out by the river and set up the folding chairs and the rods Eliot had bought at the bait shop.  He could have rented them, but maybe if they owned the damn things, he'd be able to talk Hardison into going fishing again.  They rarely got the chance to spend time together, just the two of them.  Eliot had spent pretty much his whole childhood hanging out down at the river with the boys.  It was nice to feel like he could salvage some of that with Hardison.  

"We are eating whatever is in those takeout boxes before I'm touching any worms," Hardison declared, and Eliot grinned at him.  

"Prepare for an experience you'll never forget," he told Hardison, and brought out two styrofoam containers of fried fish, slaw, and hushpuppies.  There was beer to wash it down, and a couple of homemade fried pies to top it off — none of it the best Eliot had ever had, but all of it good.  Something about the fresh air and the sound of the rushing river gave it an extra flavor.  

"All right," Hardison said when they were done and he'd licked the last of the peach filling from the pie off his fingers.  "That wasn't the worst."  

"I told you," Eliot said.  

Hardison nodded.  "You did.  You really did."  

"And now," Eliot said, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together, "we fish."

"That is what we're here for," Hardison said.  "Although I'll be honest with you, I kind of always though 'going fishing' was just a euphemism."

"For drinking beer?" Eliot said.  "I mean, you're not wrong.  There's a lot of beer drinking."

Hardison shrugged.  "That and other things."  

"Uh huh," Eliot said.  He wasn't going to pretend not to know what Hardison meant.  He done a little bit of everything down by the river those last few summers at home, or at least experienced a little bit of everything.  

"Just sayin'," Hardison said, holding up his hands.  

"You thought I invited you down to the river to fool around, huh?" Eliot asked.  

"I mean, not this time," Hardison said.  "I invited you."  He rubbed his hands together.  "So are we going to fish or what?"

"We are definitely going to fish," Eliot said.  "Just...fish."

"You're gonna have to show me," Hardison said, and Eliot grinned.  They started at the beginning: threading the line through the supports on the rod, tying on a hook, adding the worms that Hardison was so disgusted by.  Eliot could have gotten other bait, but it was funny to watch Hardison squirm.

"Now cast your hook out into the water," Eliot said.

"Okay," Hardison said, giving him one of those looks.  "How do I do that?"  

"Just" — Eliot mimed flicking the rod — "put it out there."  

"Show me," Hardison said, and Eliot picked up his rod.  "No, show me, like, move my arm.  I'm not gonna learn by watching you.  I'm one of those kinesthetic learners.  I need to feel it."  

"Uh, sure," Eliot said.  "I'll just, uh...here, stand up."  He stepped up behind Hardison and kind of put his arms around him a little.  Hardison was taller than he was and Eliot's face was almost against the back of Hardison's shoulder.  Hardison was wearing one of those waffle-looking shirts and he smelled like bergamot and some kind of woodsy deodorant.  It worked on him.  "It starts with the shoulder, that's where the power comes from."  He patted Hardison's shoulder and then ran his hand down Hardison's arm.  "It ends in the wrist.  That's the finesse."  He moved Hardison's arm back and forth.  Goddamn, Hardison was strong.  It wasn't exactly like he ever forgot that, since it was part of the calculations Eliot made for every job — if shit went south, he could rely on Hardison to get out, mostly — but he never really considered the physical reality of it either, unless they were both working out at the same time.  But Hardison's arms were hard with muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt, and Eliot could feel the power in them as Hardison's arm pivoted smoothly with his guidance.  "Like this."

"Uh huh," Hardison said in a serious voice.  "I think I'm getting it.  Just back and forth."  

"Not just back and forth," Eliot said.  He laid his arm out along the length of Hardison's and wrapped his fingers around Hardison's wrist.  "It's all in the wrist, man.  Just hold this down, pull back, and flick as you let go."  Their arms moved together and Hardison's hook dropped neatly into the water.  "Just like that."  

"I might need help again later," Hardison said.  "You know they say practice makes perfect."

"I'm here all day," Eliot said.  "You want another beer?  It might take a while to actually catch anything."  

"Why the hell not," Hardison said.  Eliot cracked open two more beers and Hardison clinked his can against Eliot's as they sat down.  "To finally going fishing."

Eliot drank a healthy sip and slid his can into the cupholder built into the arm of his chair.  He cast out into the river.  It wasn't hard, but it did take practice to get the little flick just right.  He'd gotten plenty of practice over the years — he'd been fishing since he was little, maybe five, first with his granddaddy and then his daddy and then his friends.  

It wasn't like Hardison was wrong.  He and his buddies had gone down to the river by themselves starting when they were twelve or so.  They hadn't fooled around until they were in high school, when they'd go catch enough fish to come home with and then fill the rest of the hours with whatever they'd managed to steal out of their parents' liquor cabinets and cigarette packs.  What the hell else were a bunch of teenage boys going to do but get tipsy and go skinny dipping?  Whatever else had happened had just happened.  Just a bunch of boys taking a test drive before the real deal.  The fact that it had still happened after some of them had gotten laid was just a matter of opportunity.  

The military had been like that too, and then thieving, since then: Eliot and all his brothers-in-arms just trying to get by and have a little fun in their off-time.  Keeping the world safe for democracy got lonely  It wasn't gay to give another man a hand job.  His own damn hand just got so boring after a while, and there hadn't been any women in his combat unit.  Wrapping his fist around another man's cock had been a favor, nothing more, because the other guy had always done it for him too.  And getting a blow job from another man wasn't gay either, because Eliot had never been the one blowing.  It wasn't like he'd tangled his fingers in the guy's hair or kissed any of them afterward.  Well, maybe a couple of them, but when they swallowed, it only seemed polite to thank them with a kiss and a hand job.  It wasn't gay.  It wasn't like there'd been tongue.  Much.  

Okay, it was bi-curious at most.  He'd probably thought about women anyway.

"Bet you I catch more fish," Hardison said, startling Eliot out of his thoughts.  

"No way in hell," Eliot told him.  "You can't even cast by yourself yet."

"I had a good teacher," Hardison said.  "You wait and see how many fish I catch."

"Fine," Eliot said.  "Loser buys dinner."

"Loser cooks dinner," Hardison said.  "Because you're going to be preparing all these delicious fish I catch."  

"Only if you win, which you're not gonna," Eliot said.  "And if you do, you're gonna learn to clean a fish."

"That sounds terrible," Hardison said cheerfully.  "How about you do it and I pretend to watch?"

"You've gotta catch at least five more fish than I do if you want to get out of cleaning duty," Eliot said.

"Done," Hardison said.  He pointed at Eliot.  "No backsies."

"What are you, a child?" Eliot asked.  

"I am a fully grown adult man," Hardison said, wiggling his eyebrows.  "Wanted in at least sixteen countries, and that doesn't even count the warrants."

"Hah," Eliot said.  "I get it."  He raised his beer to Hardison.  Hardison grinned.  Eliot felt a nibble on his line and ignored it.  He didn't want to lose, but on the other hand, he wanted to see what would happen if Hardison won.  The last time, he'd somehow ended up on their date, and it had been weird as hell, but also nice somehow.  Eliot hadn't had any shortage of quote-unquote friends, but he hadn't been on a date in longer than he could remember.  And he hadn't really felt like the third wheel, unless it was the third wheel of a tricycle.  He'd felt like they wanted him there.  Like it wouldn't have been the same without him. And now Hardison had basically insisted that this was kind of a date, whatever that meant.

Eliot had no fucking clue what the fuck was happening, if he was honest with himself.  

"I feel something," Hardison said, sitting up and alert in his chair.

"All right, jerk your wrist back to set the hook," Eliot told him.  "Still feel it?"

"Yeah," Hardison said, focusing in on the rod and the water in a way that gave Eliot a little tingle someplace he couldn't describe.  Watching Hardison work really was something else.  

"Keep the line taut," Eliot said.  "Just reel it in slowly.  If it fights, you tip the rod to give it a little room.  Don't let the line out too far or the hook might slip and you'll lose it."  He put his hand on Hardison's shoulder.  The man had biceps, that was for sure.  "Easy does it.  Easy."

"This is as easy as I get," Hardison said, cranking the reel.  

"You got this," Eliot told him.

There were a few tricky moments, but at the end of it, Hardison was triumphantly holding up a pretty little bass.  Eliot freed it from the hook and dropped it in a bucket of water.

"That's one," Hardison said, holding up one finger.  "And how many do you have?  None?"

Eliot pretended to look around and turned to flip Hardison off.  "Hey, man.  Look at that.  I got one too."

"Ha ha," Hardison said sarcastically.  

They didn't catch a damn thing the whole rest of the afternoon.  Eliot could have — he felt the fish nibbling, but he'd either let them go or yank at just the wrong moment or let too much line out.  Hardison just didn't have the technique down.  Eliot helped him cast a couple more times, but nothing seemed to want to take Hardison's bait.  

They both looked at the one fish in the bucket and then at each other.

"How's chili sound for dinner?" Eliot asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Hardison said.  "I could go for some chili.  Maybe some cornbread."

"Don't push your luck," Eliot said, though he'd already been thinking about it himself.  

"All right, all right," Hardison said.  "I can eat my chili with Fritos like a regular person if you're not gonna put out."

Eliot tipped out the bucket into the river and the fish swam away.  "No one in the history of food has ever used the phrase 'put out' in conjunction with the idea of cornbread, except to to say 'put out the cornbread on the table'."

"I'm an innovator," Hardison said.  "Cutting edge."  

"Just help me carry all this shit to the truck," Eliot told him, rolling his eyes and dumping the ice from the cooler out onto the edge of the river.  They'd finished the beer a couple of hours ago, at least.  The rods and the cooler and the chairs all went in the back of his truck and he and Hardison piled back in and drove back to the Bridgeport.

"Can't believe you didn't catch anything." Hardison said.  "Fish in Oklahoma must just be easy, huh?"

"Guess so," Eliot said.  "I sure caught more than my share back home."  He smirked.  

"I can imagine," Hardison said, and suddenly that was all Eliot was thinking about: Hardison thinking about the things Eliot had done down by the river.  "Good clean wholesome country fun, no doubt."

"Nothing cleaner than skinny dipping," Eliot said, glancing at Hardison and then back at the road.  He could at least have a little say in what Hardison was imagining.  If that happened to be Eliot buck naked and golden from the summer sun, so be it.  He glanced at Hardison again and caught just the curve of Hardison's smile as Hardison licked his lips.  Eliot felt a shock spark through him like static.

What the fuck was he doing?  Flirting with his teammate?  With his other teammate's boyfriend?  This wasn't a "what happens down at the river stays down at the river" situation.  Parker and Hardison were pretty much all he had these days by way of friends he saw regularly.  He couldn't mess with that.  But Hardison was still smiling and seemed perfectly comfortable.  

"Hey, babe," Parker said when they came in.  She was studying something on a laptop.  She turned in her seat to kiss Hardison.  Eliot felt that spark again and remembered his dreams.  He looked away.  She sure as hell hadn't offered him a kiss.  Maybe he was imagining this whole thing.  Maybe they hadn't ever been flirting with him and he'd messed up all their date night plans that last time with the pasta.

"Hell yeah, I did," Hardison told her.  "More than Eliot too, which means he's making dinner again."

"Nice," Parker said.  "For everybody?"

Hardison shrugged.  "I assume Nate and Sophie are out for the night, since nobody's called me to demand I work technological miracles on short notice."

"Fine with me."  Parker hopped off her chair.  "What's for dinner?"

"Chili," Eliot said.  "And before you ask, no, it doesn't pair well with tiramisu."

"No more late-night tiramisu," Hardison said, putting his arms around Parker with an indulgent air.  "You were bouncing off the walls for hours."

"You liked it," Parker told him, and her grin told Eliot everything he needed to know and more about exactly how much Hardison had liked it.  

"I didn't say I didn't benefit from it," Hardison allowed, "but sometimes I need my sleep, baby.  There's only so much one man can do."

"All right, all right," Eliot groused.  It was too bad two men wasn't an option.  Between them, surely they could tire out even a sugared-up and caffeinated Parker.  

"Ice cream," Parker decided.  "Yeah, definitely ice cream."  She flashed them a smile.  "I'll be back."

"I'm gonna watch the master work," Hardison said to Parker, following Eliot into the kitchen.  "Don't forget there's only so much room in the freezer."

"Yeah, yeah," she said.  "If we eat it, that's not a problem."

"She's got a point," Eliot said.  He washed his hands and flung a towel over his shoulder.

"First I learned to fish," Hardison said.  "Now I'm going to learn to cook."  

"Maybe you'll be better at cooking than you were at fishing," Eliot teased.

Hardison snorted.  "Says the man who didn't catch even a minnow today."

"I was off my game," Eliot said.  

"Missing your old fishing buddies, huh," Hardison said, leaning on the counter.

"Something like that."  Eliot dug in the cabinets for one of his big dutch ovens, the cast iron ones.  "If you want to cook chili, you start out with a big old pot."

"Looks like you could do reps with that one,"  Hardison said, miming bicep curls.

"Just about," Eliot said.  He set it on the stove and pulled out the cutting board and an onion.  "Mince your onion up.  I like it in little pieces so it gets all melty.  Some people like big chunks of onion, but that's their business."  He minced a few cloves of garlic alongside it and turned on the heat under the pan.  "Heat first.  That's important.  When the pan gets hot, then we add the oil, then we wait for that to heat up."

"I'm taking notes in my mind," Hardison said, tapping his temple.  "Heat.  Oil.  Onions.  Got it."

Eliot went to the fridge.  He'd been meaning to make chili anyway — he had a packet of mixed ground pork and beef from the butcher, which meant either chili or burgers in his world.  He pulled that out and grabbed a couple of bell peppers while he was at it.  Hardison watched him lay everything out on the counter.  Eliot held his hand over the metal bottom of the pot.  Hot enough, he thought.  He added some oil and watched it run along the perfect unstained enamel.  One of these days, maybe he'd be in one place long enough to break his cookware in.  His momma's chili pot had had a chip out of the top and it never looked completely clean inside.  Too many Sunday dinners and weeknight soups.  He shook his head and cut the tops off his bell peppers. The oil in the pot was shimmering.  He scraped in the onions and garlic and let them sizzle.  The scent of them immediately filled the kitchen.

"First the noise," he told Hardison.  "Then you stir."  He started dicing the bell peppers, peered over at the onions, and handed Hardison the big wooden spoon.  "Stir."

"You get bossy in the kitchen, don't you?" Hardison asked, but he came around the counter and stood next to Eliot.

"I'm bossy everywhere," Eliot told him.  "And it's saved your life more than once."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Hardison said, poking the onions with the spoon.  Eliot threw some salt in on top of them.

"I said stir 'em, not move 'em around one at a time," he teased.  

"I had a lot of wrist action earlier," Hardison protested.  "Go easy on me."

"Don't tell me you need me to teach you how to stir," Eliot said.  "Smartest man I know.  You can figure it out."  He pulled a beer out of the fridge.  

"Didn't get enough earlier?" Hardison joked.

"It's for the chili," Eliot told him.  He peered around Hardison at the onions.  "Stir 'em around again."  Hardison scraped the spoon through the onions obediently.  They were translucent enough, Eliot decided, and added the peppers to the pot.  

"Keep stirring?" Hardison asked.

"You got it," Eliot said.  He unstuck the paper around the packet of meat and unwrapped it.  

"Mm," Hardison said unconvincingly, looking at the bloody rectangle.

"This is the good stuff," Eliot said.  He dumped it into the pot.  "Chop it up with the spoon as it turns brown."  He mimed the action and Hardison mimicked him, separating the meat into chunks.  

"Big or little pieces?" Hardison asked.

"Depends on what you like," Eliot said.  "Smaller's easier to eat.  Picks up the flavor better.  Bigger keeps more of the meat taste and feels different in your mouth."  He tossed in more salt on top of the meat, added chili powder and black pepper and oregano.  

"Is that cocoa powder?" Hardison asked.

"Just a little," Eliot said, measuring it out on a teaspoon.  "Gives it a little depth.  That's what the beer's for too."

"And here I thought you were just rude," Hardison murmured.  

"That too," Eliot said.  He added cumin to the pot, hesitated, and then threw in a little more.  Hardison sniffed appreciatively.

"This smells good, man," he told Eliot.

"Thanks," Eliot said.  

"You use a recipe?" Hardison asked.

"Nah," Eliot said.  "Just know what it's supposed to be like."  He collected a can of tomatoes and three different kinds of beans from the pantry.  If he was going to keep losing bets, he was going to keep making three-of-a-kind recipes and see if they ever even noticed.  Black beans, pinto beans, and kidney beans made a hell of a chili anyway.

"Meat looks...brown," Hardison said.

"Good," Eliot said.  He cracked open the beer and poured most of it into the pan, where it bubbled and steamed up in a cloud that made Hardison cough.  Eliot laughed and took a swig of what was left.  He offered the last swallow to Hardison.  Hardison took it without hesitation.  Eliot couldn't stop looking at the way Hardison's lips pressed against the mouth of the bottle, right where Eliot's had been.  Hardison drained the dregs and set the bottle on the counter, his eyes on Eliot's.  Eliot shivered.  There'd been looks like that down by the river, those summers in high school: lazy, certain stares full of breathless heat.  He didn't know anymore if he was imagining things.  

He'd tried not to get in the way.  They just kept including him.  Maybe it was inevitable that he was having these kinds of thoughts about it.  It had been a long damn time since anybody had made him feel as needed as the two of them did, or as wanted, or as welcome.  Of course he had feelings about them now.  Of course he dreamed about them.

"Eliot," Hardison said softly.  "Earth to Eliot."

"Yeah," Eliot said, shaking it off.  "Let the liquid cook off a little."  He grabbed the can opener and opened the cans.  He dumped the beans into a colander, all three cans, and rinsed them off.  

"Three bean chili, huh?" Hardison said.  "When one or two beans just won't do."

"Adds texture," Eliot said.  Hardison didn't know enough about food to contradict him, and anyway, it was sort of true.  He grabbed a spoon and tasted it.  "It ain't Texas chili, but it'll do."  

"Now what?" Hardison asked.  

"Now we turn the heat down and let it simmer," Eliot told him.  "And I guess we make cornbread, if you still want it."

"Hell yeah, I do," Hardison said.

"Then turn on the oven," Eliot said, "and throw that cast iron skillet in there."

"This one?"  Hardison held it up.

"That's the one," Eliot told him, already measuring everything into a bowl.  Cornbread came together fast.  When the batter was all mixed together, he pulled out the hot skillet, melted some butter in it, and poured in the batter.  It hissed and spat a little.  He pushed it back into the oven.  

"Kinda thought Parker would be back by now," he said.  

Hardison shrugged.  "You know Parker and sugar.  She might be back in five minutes.  Might be two hours."

"This'll take about half an hour," Eliot said.  

"How will we pass the time," Hardison said, lounging against the counter.  

"Not fishing, I'm guessing," Eliot said.  He leaned on the counter next to Hardison.  "Not unless you've still got that game."

"I do, but now that I know what the real thing is like, I don't know if I can go back," Hardison said.  He smiled over at Eliot, slow and sweet.  "All that fresh air, you know?"  

"I'm back!" Parker said.  She was carrying a tote bag that looked like it definitely contained more ice cream than three adults could or should eat.  "I couldn't pick a flavor, so I just got all of them."  

"Attagirl," Eliot said, pushing himself off the counter.  "Go big."

"And then come home," Hardison said, pulling Parker close.  He took the ice cream bag from her and looked through it.  "Wow.  You really did get everything."

"I told you so," Parker said.  "Is it dinner yet?"

"Almost," Eliot said.  "Just waiting on the cornbread."

"Yum," Parker said.

"I helped cook," Hardison said.

"He did," Eliot confirmed.  "He's a good little sous chef.  Stirs and everything."  

"Sounds like you're a great team," Parker said, looking between them and smiling. "I like teamwork."

"Me too," Hardison said.  He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow.  

Eliot tried really damn hard not to read anything into that.

Dinner didn't feel like a date this time, but it did feel like family.  They watched <i>Top Gun</i> afterwards, because apparently that was what they did now: dinner and a movie.  Parker gave up on any pretense and swung her legs over Eliot's lap almost the minute he sat down.  She put her head in Hardison's lap and Hardison stroked her hair.  Neither of them said anything or even seemed to notice anything was strange.  Eliot sighed to himself and rested his hand on her shin.  It wasn't like she'd never touched him before.  She'd flung her arm around his shoulder or jumped into his arms or poked at him a hundred times over the years.  It just felt different now.

Nothing about his life was remotely like what he'd imagined when he'd been in high school.  But it was all right.  He had a damn good life.  

"Pass me that fruity one," Parker said, sitting up so that she was leaning against Hardison, and Eliot handed her a gooey pint of ice cream.  She dug her spoon into the container and grinned at him.  He thought very briefly about how sweet she'd taste if he kissed her.  

"Share," Hardison told her, and Parker held the spoon to his mouth, and Eliot thought about kissing him too.  He picked up one of the other pints of ice cream and occupied his mouth and his mind with other sensations, real ones, cold and the bitter bite of chocolate and the smooth feeling of butterfat.  It helped crowd the fantasies out of his head, at least for a little while.

It could have been worse.  He could have fallen for Sophie.

[glassworkspiderlilies]

got me good vibes thank god i ain’t driving

Fire Emblem Three Houses | Dimitri/f!Byleth | AO3 Summary: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd goes grocery shopping at 3:30AM and meets an enigmatic girl in the dairy aisle. It goes from there. (Or, something-of-a-college-cryptid Byleth comes and goes as she pleases and befriends the Blaiddyd heir. Or he befriends her. In any case, it's an interesting semester.) Notes: Stress relief fic of no real discernible plot; best described with “head empty, just typing”. I’m serious, please do not think too hard while reading, I got nothing LOL. On the other hand, I had a lot of fun. Approximately (and absurdly) 10k words; more notes on AO3.

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“Hey, Dimitri. One of those nights, huh?”

“Yes. Want a Mad Bull?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It’s 3:30AM, and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is grocery shopping. The cashier on graveyard shift is well-acquainted with him now, at least on a surface level, as one becomes when you’re (usually) the only two people in the store at an ungodly hour. Dimitri buys him energy drinks sometimes. The cashier slips him extra coupons if he’s got them.

A combination of insomnia and nightmares keeps Dimitri up a lot, and while he can mostly regulate the insomnia, some nights are just particularly bad. Alternatively, if he is asleep but wakes up at any point, it’s too difficult for him to fall asleep again, so he may as well get up.  

It’s not the worst, since he’s used to it by now, and at university. There are things enough that he can do during these witching hours, grocery shopping at the 24-hour supermarket being one of them.

On the rare occasion there are other people in and out of the place, but Dimitri only sees them from a distance as they go about their own shopping. At this time, everyone’s minding their own business for one reason or another.

That’s why it’s a surprise when he turns into the dairy aisle to see a young woman standing in front of the cheeses. She’s wearing a soft gray hoodie with pink striping on the cuffs and hem, her hands in her pockets and the hood covering her hair, dark jeans, and knee-high boots. Despite the more casual style, it strikes Dimitri as somehow a little dressy, though Sylvain would snort and say he’d be one to talk. (Dimitri can’t help it. It’s how he was raised; he feels most comfortable in button-downs and crisp jackets. His most casual is a neat sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, like now. And anyway, Sylvain seemed to have fun enough choosing things to add to Dimitri’s wardrobe. At this point, all of Dimitri’s friends borrowed his clothes if they fit—even Felix, who always did so without asking, and sometimes Dimitri never even knew.)

The girl doesn’t even turn despite the sound of Dimitri’s cart, and he thinks that he’ll wait politely for her to finish her selection before making his, pretending to look at the nearest shelf. But she stands there for a few minutes too long without moving, and so after some deliberation and hesitation, Dimitri decides to approach. It’s his last aisle, and he more or less knows what he wants, so he’ll be quick and out of here.

She doesn’t move even as he comes to stand next to her, and he murmurs “excuse me” as he looms a little over her to reach for a block of Gautier cheese. An unfortunate yet unavoidable action based on positioning, because she is spectacularly dead center of the things he wants, and she still doesn’t move despite the proximity.

Dimitri glances at her, wondering if she’s okay. Her expression is totally blank; she’s either zoning out or focusing extremely hard.

Well. It’s pretty late—or early—after all.

He reaches for a second block and puts the two into his cart, stepping away from the girl to turn his attention to the yogurts that he gets for Sylvain on the next section over. He takes two of the mixed berry ones first before debating over the others.

“Plain or spicy?”

It takes him a minute to register the voice and the words, soft and pleasantly mid-tone.

Dimitri turns to find the girl looking at him, and he thinks oh, she’s really pretty, now that he’s seen her in full view, before actually connecting the dots that she’s the one who had spoken.

“Um, spicy?” he offers, and the girl seems to think for a moment before she nods decisively.

He watches as she reaches for two blocks of artisan cheese, flecks of herbs and spices visible through the packaging—not one he’s tried before, or honestly remembered seeing here—and turns to plop them squarely in his hands, balancing them perfectly on top of the yogurt containers.

She then walks away, putting her hands back in her pockets.

“Uh?” Dimitri says belatedly, looking between the girl’s retreating figure and the cheese.

Am I supposed to buy these for her? He wonders, as he puts everything in his hands in his cart. He grabs a six-pack variety of yogurt before rushing after her, but she’s gone by the time he makes it to the registers.

“All set?” the cashier yawns, and Dimitri blinks at him.

“Wasn’t there a girl just now? In a gray hoodie?” Dimitri asks, laying down his purchases.

“Hm? Oh yeah, she walked out without buying anything,” the cashier says, starting to scan the items, “People just come in here to kill time sometimes.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, looking towards the doors.

He completes his transaction, leaving the Mad Bull for the cashier, who waves his hand gratefully, and makes his way back to his car. The girl is still nowhere in sight; Dimitri realizes he wishes that she were.

He loads his groceries into his trunk and drives back to the dorms.

By the time he finishes finding space in the fridge for everything, it’s a little past 4AM. In about an hour and a half, Ingrid will be up for her morning run, and she always welcomes company. Dimitri shoots her a text for when she wakes up; he’ll pick up coffee and pastries for them too.

For now, he might as well work on his upcoming paper a little more.

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“So, what’s with the special cheese in the fridge?” Sylvain asks later that day, when their childhood quartet all meet up for lunch.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, remembering. “That. Um…there was a girl in the supermarket who just kind of…had me buy them?”

Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid blink at him.

“What do you mean, ‘had you buy them’?” Felix says.

Dimitri recounts the whole experience.

“And you bought them,” Felix says, with his brows furrowed, his eyes and tone clearly conveying what the hell, that was so stupid.

Dimitri just shrugs.

“We should eat it later,” Ingrid says, biting into her burger, and Sylvain laughs.

“Yeah, leave it to Ingrid,” he says. “But we should. To commemorate Dimitri’s weird 3AM experience.”

Sylvain makes a big deal of it when they do eat the cheese later, when their classes have ended for the day and they’re back in their suite. He puts the crackers on a plate and tries to cut the cheese into fancy shapes, which only Dimitri actually appreciates.

“Oooh, spicy,” Ingrid says, as she pops a cube into her mouth. “Hey, this is really good!”

Felix says nothing, but reaches for more. Sylvain laments about the lack of appreciation for his artistic attempts, but also agrees that the cheese is great when he finally eats a piece himself.

Dimitri, as always, cannot really taste the flavor, but he likes both the scent and the texture, at least.

“So Dimitri finally meets a girl, we get a brand new cheese, what else is next?” Sylvain says, leaning back on the sofa.

“It wasn’t like that,” Dimitri protests, then pauses. “But she was very pretty,” he admits quietly, and Sylvain grins. “Like a goddess,” he adds, even quieter.

Sylvain smacks his own face in secondhand embarrassment.

“There, you see? It’s Dimitri’s romantic awakening.”

“Hardly matters unless he gets to see her again,” Felix says lazily, and Sylvain is the one that makes a wounded noise.

Dimitri, on the other hand, merely looks thoughtful. He hadn’t actively thought about wanting to see her again until Felix brought it up. But he thinks he might like to, if the chance presented itself.

“It’s the awakening,” Sylvain whisper-hisses, and no one seems to care.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ingrid says, in response to Felix’s statement and not Sylvain’s, “In any case, you should get this again.”

She tries to eat the rest. Felix fights her for it.

(When Dimitri goes shopping again two weeks later, he can’t find the cheese anywhere. Ingrid looks let down, Sylvain looks surprised, and Felix looks offended.

“What the fuck? Go find your 3AM cheese goddess again and ask her,” Felix says, and Sylvain laughs a little too hard.)

.

Dimitri’s not sure why he allows himself to be dragged to parties, but he keeps letting it happen. Ingrid had brought them news that Dorothea was throwing her beginning-of-semester bash, which was always a Big Deal, and several of their mutual friends were going. Ingrid couldn’t not attend, because she was good friends with Dorothea. Sylvain was absolutely going, because he would never miss a party. Felix had not wanted to go, but Sylvain had somehow convinced him, and if Felix was going to suffer, then Dimitri better damn well suffer too, and so he relented from the combined pressure of Felix’s glare and Sylvain’s coaxing.

He supposed he could use the change of pace every now and then. And he could always slip away; people were usually too drunk to notice after a couple hours.

Sylvain borrows a shirt from Dimitri’s closet and wears it with three buttons undone. Felix steals a black jacket from Dimitri’s closet and wears it halfway down his arms. Ingrid does not take anything from his closet this time, but does borrow one of his hair ties.

Everyone tells Dimitri to change when he comes out of his room; Sylvain, as usual, takes control to make Dimitri more “party ready”, which consists of a long blue coat and off-white shirt—with several buttons undone, of course. (Dimitri buttons at least two up again later.)

The party is loud and raucous as it’s meant to be, but he’s amongst mostly friends, and so he’s actually not that anxious. There’s a few people he doesn’t know, but he is otherwise at least mostly familiar with everyone else. Annette bounces up and down when she sees them walk in, tapping Mercedes on the shoulder, who was conversing with Ashe. Dedue appears a moment later, and Dimitri’s main friend group is all here.

“Yay! I’m glad you made it too, Dimitri,” Annette says cheerfully. “Gosh—frowning already, Felix? Here, have a drink.”

Annette proffers her own cup.

“You already drank out of this,” Felix scowls, but he takes it anyway, and grimaces when he takes a sip. “What is this, fruit juice?”

“Felix is too good for Noa liquer,” Annette declares, turning her nose up, “Fine, go get yourself a beer or whatever!”

Felix teases her by holding her cup too high to reach, and she screeches at him until he finally puts it back in her hands. Mercedes chuckles as she watches them, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to compliment her dress with a roguish wink. She returns the compliment easily enough, with genuine warmth, which always throws Sylvain off.

“Dedue! I was surprised to hear you were coming,” Dimitri smiles, and Dedue smiles back.

“Dorothea asked if Ashe and I could make a few things,” he said. “Since I am here, I may as well make sure nobody gets in too much trouble.”

Dimitri chuckles.

“Oooh, Dedue, Ashe, you made food?” Ingrid chimes in, looking excited. While some things had obviously been bought, Dorothea was pretty picky about the specifics of her parties when she threw one. “I’m excited!”

“We did a really good job, if I say so myself,” Ashe smiles. “The meat skewers came out really well, so you and Felix should grab some while you get a chance.”

“Oh, you bet I will,” Ingrid says, already wandering away. “Hear that Felix? I’m not saving you any!”

Felix yells back, and in a second they all start wading deeper into the place, and everyone starts to branch off on their own. Dedue still mostly sticks with Dimitri, though, and the two of them stick to the peripheries.

Dorothea’s parties really span the entire apartment building; her neighbors across the way and downstairs are either friends or people she’s friendly with, so the doors to their apartments are also open for more space. If Dimitri thinks about it, it’s really nice, the way everything comes together.

As the night wears on and he’s consumed a couple drinks that Mercedes had kindly procured for him (with a reminder to drink slow), he begins feeling—looser, braver, almost a little giddy. Dedue is in conversation with Ashe, and Dimitri slips away to the kitchen for a moment, because there had been an extra dish of saghert and cream that he now wants in a very visceral way.

The kitchen is surprisingly empty—except for one person, who has climbed up on the counter, and is perched on her knees as she rifles through the topmost cabinet. The slit up the side of her skirt shows a generous bit of leg with the way she’s positioned, and Dimitri stares before he tells himself not to. The girl takes out two bags of—some kind of snack, and when she turns her head, Dimitri sees that she is holding another bag with her teeth, and also that he recognizes her.

“From the dairy aisle,” he blurts, and she blinks at him before trying to climb off the counter.

She teeters a little and Dimitri automatically moves to help her, in which he actually just lifts her off the counter by the armpits like a wayward cat.

“Oh—sorry,” he says, realizing that the action was way too familiar for someone who barely qualified as an acquaintance.

But she doesn’t look at all offended, and merely sets all three bags of chips down before she speaks.

“Thanks,” she says, then stares at him. “From the dairy aisle,” she states, in a manner that is confirming that yes, that is where they met.

A pause. She is so, so pretty, Dimitri thinks. There is sparkly gold eyeshadow brightening her already-bright green eyes, making her stare more intense. The more they’re at a standstill, the more nervous he becomes.

“I couldn’t find the cheese again,” he blurts.

She nods.

“It’s only stocked the fourth Tuesday of the month,” she says, ripping open a bag of chips, and taking a few to cram in her mouth before offering them to Dimitri.

“Oh,” he says, taking a chip. “It was very good. My friends liked it a lot too.”

She stares for a moment again, then offers him a tiny smile, a brief upturn of her lips. She had expected him to, he realizes, and she’s at least minutely pleased to have that expectation fulfilled. A short laugh escapes him at how odd this all is.

“You didn’t buy anything that night,” he says, though it comes out as a question.

She shrugs.

“I was just there,” she says, offering the chip bag again.

“Just there,” he repeats, taking more chips. At 3:30AM. “To…hang out?”

She gives a brief shake of her head.

“To stare at a specifically stocked cheese, only to give them to a stranger to buy?” Dimitri tries again.

She blinks at him, popping more chips in her mouth.

“Not a stranger,” she says, after she finishes chewing.

“Pardon? Forgive me, I don’t…recall us meeting before that night?” he says. He would have remembered someone like her, he’d think.

“You’re Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” she says, and he blinks at her use of his full name. Her eyes crease in amusement at his expression. “Not a stranger to me.”

Ah.

“But you are a stranger to me,” he says, and she shrugs again, as if saying it’s not like it’s something he could help.

“Byleth,” she offers, putting the open bag of chips in his hands, and opening up another one. (He looks at the labeling on the front. Beast meat and onion flavor. Huh.) “Want to go on an adventure, Dimitri?”

He looks back at her, mouth slightly open. She continues to stare at him, munching away from the other bag of chips, waiting for his response.

“Okay,” he says.

She nods, then rinses her fingers at the sink before motioning for him to follow with her head. She takes the two bags of chips with her as she walks out of the kitchen.

She navigates the crowd until she finds a group of three, all dressed looking as if they could kill, dumping the chip bags into the hands of a redhead.

“Hm? Chatterbox, where did you find these?” the girl says, reading the unusual flavors.

“Kitchen cabinet,” Byleth says, and the girl shoots her a half-exasperated look, but questions no further.

She hands one of them to the girl with blonde curls beside her, and Dimitri proffers the third bag as well, which the redhead also takes with a curious glance at him. Byleth makes to leave, but the boy with lavender hair and sparkly eyeshadow—the same that glints on Byleth’s eyelids, he realizes—stops her.

“Whoa, hold on there, friend! Not so much an introduction?”

“You know him already,” Byleth says, and the boy frowns at her.

“Yuri Leclerc,” he says, turning to Dimitri.

“Name’s Hapi,” the redhead pipes up, still looking at the chips.

“And I am Constance von Nuvelle,” the blonde says, tilting up her chin with a haughty smile.

“Dimitri,” he says, a little shyly, since they already know him. “A pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” Yuri says, with a nod of his head, before glancing back at Byleth. “Are you leaving already? And kidnapping the Blaiddyd Heir?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

A pause.

“Well, carry on then,” Yuri says with a shrug. “Want a drink before you go?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

They wait as Yuri makes his way to the counter full of bottles a little ways away, watching as he makes a cocktail in a shaker with professional ease. He strains the drink into three cups, carrying all of them back, and Byleth and Dimitri take one each.

“You get what I’m drinking,” Yuri says, eyes wicked, and does not offer up what it is. Dimitri sips, and by the way it burns, he can tell it’s strong. Yuri looks faintly impressed with Dimitri’s lack of reaction beyond a few rapid blinks. “I’ll tell the Heir’s friends where he went, if I see them asking.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says, realizing that he doesn’t know where any of them are at the moment.

Byleth merely nods, and motions for Dimitri to follow again.

The night air is refreshing, and Dimitri feels pleasantly floaty as he trails after his new friend. They round the Black Eagle complex and head into the dark woods behind; he doesn’t know where they’re going and feels like he shouldn’t ask; he has an idle thought that he should text one of his friends to let them know, but Byleth looks back at him to make sure he’s following and he can only think about how pretty she is. He smiles at her, and she tilts her head before reaching for his hand.

“Hand,” Dimitri says, looking down at them.

“Hand,” Byleth agrees. “The ground is uneven here.”

He looks a little longer and then swings them a little. Byleth looks amused.

He enjoys the silent companionship between them for a little while but quickly becomes curious, so he begins asking her questions. What year was she? A senior. Where did she live on campus? In Abyss, at the Ashen Wolf dorm. Her major? More or less the teaching program, with a focus on weapons and tactics. Technically it was something of a double major, paired with history and international studies. It was complicated. Her weapon concentrations? This year, faith and reason magic. She’d already passed for swords, brawling, and bows.

He stares at her open-mouthed as she answers his questions with easy patience.

“That’s…quite the curriculum,” he says slowly, “When do you sleep?”

She glances at him.

“I manage,” she says, “I could say the same for you.”

He pauses, looking up at the sky as he collects his thoughts, sipping at his drink absentmindedly. She must already know what his curriculum more or less was—the three heirs apparent of Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester attending the same school the same year had been quite the news, and though their ideas of management differed, they did also overlap in areas. A handful of their core classes were inevitably the same before they branched off into their own areas of interest. But in any case, all of them were double-majoring with incredibly heavy courseloads to help prepare for their futures.

“It’s just insomnia,” Dimitri says instead.

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “So, 3AM grocery shopping.”

“So 3AM grocery shopping,” he agrees.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been walking, but even if it’s been a long time, he finds this all terribly pleasant. A distant part of him is aware that he would not be this at ease had it not been for the drinks he’s had tonight. Alcohol is wonderful.

Byleth pushes through some branches, and they walk into a clearing, and Dimitri looks up at an enormous tree, his mouth open.

“Ta-da,” Byleth says, though her inflection doesn’t change, “Biggest tree on campus. Good place to sleep under.”

“Now?” Dimitri says, with some alarm.

“You could camp if you wanted to. But in the daytime,” Byleth tells him, drinking from her cup. “Try it sometime.”

He blinks at her, unsure if this is just a general suggestion or specifically geared advice.

“Not sure I could find it again,” he says, because he doesn’t recall the path they took at all, too distracted by other things. Also, despite the moon, it had been quite the dark trek.

“I’ll bring you,” she says simply.

They go closer to the tree, and Byleth reaches up to one of the lowest branches and snaps off two thin stalks of leaves, inspecting them before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go back.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, a little dumbfounded, “Okay.”

They make their way back. Along the way, Dimitri finishes his drink, Byleth stumbles over a tree root (her shoes are heeled, he realizes just now, how did she trek all the way in those?), and Dimitri somewhat insistently offers her a piggy back ride. She accepts, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck with both of their empty cups stacked in one hand, and Dimitri feels just a little giddy. He wants to run. (He tells himself not to.)

“You know,” she says after a while, resting her chin on his shoulder, “You shouldn’t follow strangers into dark and unknown places.”

“Not a stranger,” Dimitri says, feeling exceedingly proud of himself for the response.

He feels rather than sees her smile, and is disappointed he can’t see it. When they make it to Dorothea’s, Sylvain and Felix are outside, and the former hollers when he sees him.

“You stupid boar, why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?!” Felix hisses when they near, and Dimitri’s eyes widen.

Byleth hops off of his back (and Sylvain stares), and Dimitri pulls his phone out of his pocket to see six notifications of missed calls and texts.

“It was on silent,” Dimitri says apologetically, and Felix huffs. “Sorry.”

“Aw, no harm no foul,” Sylvain says, “Dimitri was just occupied, huh?”

“I kidnapped him,” Byleth says, throwing the two empty cups into a nearby trash can.

“We had an adventure,” Dimitri says, enthusiastically.

“Did you now,” Sylvain says, looking at Byleth, who merely stares back and adjusts her posture like a challenge. It only serves to make Sylvain more intrigued.

“This is Byleth,” Dimitri says, “From the dairy aisle!”

“Oh, the 3AM cheese goddess?” Sylvain says with a laugh, and Felix flushes at the stupid moniker as Byleth blinks in surprise.

“Yes,” Dimitri nods, “She says it’s only stocked…uh…”

“The fourth Tuesday of the month,” she supplies.

“What the fuck?” Felix says incredulously.

She shrugs. A chime goes off, and this time Byleth reaches into her bra to pull out her phone. All three boys stare at her.

“Gotta go,” she says, tapping out a quick reply. “Balthus is fighting someone.”

“Ah,” Dimitri says, wilting, his eyes and countenance like a sad puppy.  

“You’ll see me around,” Byleth tells him with a faint smile, and disappears back into the apartment.

“He’s smitten,” Sylvain whispers to Felix, watching Dimitri stare after her.  

“Disgusting,” Felix says back, scowling. “He’s also drunk. Did she say there was a fight?”

They head back in to find the rest of their friends to assure them that Dimitri is alive. There is indeed a fight, but a result of two very brawny guys—one presumably Balthus, the other Raphael—testing their abilities against each other. Dorothea is yelling, trying to get them to take it outside before they break things in her apartment and someone else gets hurt, to no avail.

Dimitri catches Yuri’s eye from across the crowd, who grins and waves in a cheeky sort of manner, pointing back to the ring. Byleth then appears, sliding her way in between them with impeccable timing and launching her own surprise attack. She punches the one with wild dark hair in the gut, then grabs him by the wrist and throws him to the floor. The apartment erupts in cheers.

“Aw, what the hell, Byleth!” Balthus yells, sitting up.

“Didn’t you hear the lady?” she says to both him and Raphael, who is also cheering, “Outside.”

“You deserved that, B,” Hapi chimes in, “You started it.”

“Alright, alright,” Balthus groans. “Round two outside, then!”

Sylvain elbows Felix, and they both look at Dimitri.

“Smitten,” Sylvain says.

“Disgusting,” Felix says, with feeling.

(Alcohol is terrible, Dimitri decides the next morning, when he wakes up with a massive hangover. He ventures out of his room and all three of his childhood friends—who are somehow already up, how was that possible?—stare at him in one coordinated movement to incredibly eerie effect. They also look how he feels.

“We’ve got the hangover cures,” Ingrid says, placing a plate of greasy breakfast food down as Sylvain holds up the full coffeepot and Felix rattles their mega-size bottle of aspirin. “So spill about what the hell happened last night.”

Dimitri demurs momentarily to brush his teeth and wash his face. After, he sits down at their common table, accepts a cup of coffee, and dutifully spills.)

.

It’s two weeks before he sees Byleth again, having not being able to catch a glimpse of her anywhere. Garreg Mach was a big university, and he hadn’t recognized her from campus previously, but…now that he was looking, he’d kind of expected to at least see her on occasion from a distance.

It’s another late-night chore night, and it’s about 1AM when he hauls his basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room. He expects the potential of others doing their laundry since the hour isn’t that late, but when he pushes through the doors he does not expect to see Byleth sitting on top of one of the washing machines, legs drawn up, a hardcover book perched on her lap.

She holds up a hand in greeting, as if she had been waiting for him to walk through the door.

“Hello,” Dimitri returns, blinking a few times, disoriented.

One, her legs are distracting him, because they are so bare and it doesn’t look like she’s wearing pants. Two, while she isn’t disallowed here to do laundry, this is the Blue Lion dorm. She lives in the Ashen Wolf dorm, which is oddly isolated from every other housing, so there is absolutely no reason for her to be doing laundry here, at a location of total inconvenience, at 1AM.  

“What are you doing here?” he ventures, walking over and setting down his basket in front of the empty one next to her.

Byleth lets her legs down so they dangle over the side of the washing machine, just over her sandals. She is wearing pants, he sees—or shorts, rather. They’re just…very short, and her oversized sweatshirt nearly covers them. She looks comfy, at least.

“Reading,” Byleth responds, holding up the book, A Treatise on Srengian Weaponcraft.

“You’re studying—here?” Dimitri asks incredulously.

Byleth shrugs.

“Good of a place as any,” she says.

“I...guess it could be,” Dimitri relents.

It’s not busy at this time, and the machines are top-notch, so the noise they produce could be acceptable enough ambience. He stares at her a minute before he moves on to load his clothes into the machine, carefully measuring out the detergent and pressing his desired settings. Byleth watches him, and when the immediate task is completed, Dimitri nervously faces her.

“I um…I’m sorry for my behavior at the party,” he says, trying not to wring his hands as he thinks about the piggyback ride. “My actions were—overfamiliar.”

“On the contrary,” Byleth counters easily, “You helped me out.”

He brightens a little at that, and she tilts her head at him. After a moment she smiles a little, and Dimitri feels his heart skip a beat.

“How was the morning after?” she asks, and Dimitri coughs at the wording.

“Not ideal,” he admits, rubbing the max of his neck. “My tolerance is not very high. But I recovered.”

“I’ll note that,” she says, with a nod. “Yuri hits hard with his drinks. You took it well, considering.”

He debates whether to bring up his lack of taste, but decides against it. That conversation always goes one way, and he doesn’t want to bring up past tragedies and traumas, right now.

“You were okay?” he asks instead, and she gives him an amused look.

“High tolerance,” she says. “Father’s side.”

“Ah,” Dimitri nods. Not that he knows her very well, but she hadn’t seemed drunk at all—though by the time he’d run into her in the kitchen he wasn’t confident in his own observational accuracy. He doesn’t know where to go from here, and his eyes fall on her book. “So…Srengian weaponry?” he tries, and winces at the awkwardness of the delivery.

But Byleth nods.

“Known for their maces,” she says absently, cracking the text open again, “But their other weapons have some good durability.” She pauses, looking at him. “Might be a worthwhile investment.”

He blinks. The Blaiddyd line is well-known for their greater-than-average strength, and Dimitri is no exception. Still, he hates how easily things break in his hands; even iron and steel can shatter in his grip if he’s startled. But Byleth offers this suggestion so matter-of-factly, as if she were recommending a flavor of ice cream or color of shirt, that he can’t even be embarrassed about it.

“It might be,” Dimitri says eventually. “I’ll look into it. Sylvain has contacts in Sreng.”

“So do I, if you need another,” Byleth says, and Dimitri blinks at her again.

Sreng’s clan politics are notoriously turbulent, and Sylvain only had actual contacts because he had been trying to improve relations as the next head of House Gautier, whose lands bordered Sreng. Otherwise, Sreng wasn’t usually a place people had, or could get, contacts in.

“You…have contacts in Sreng?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“My father used to be a mercenary before a bodyguard,” Byleth says absently, “So I grew up as one, too. We used to travel a lot.”

There’s more to it, Dimitri can tell, but he doesn’t push, purely because he doesn’t know what, exactly, to ask.

“There more I learn about you, the less I seem to know,” he says with a wry smile after a minute.

She stares at him.

“And to me, you feel familiar,” she murmurs.

His eyes widen.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” she agrees.

There’s silence.

“I only ever seem to meet you unexpectedly,” he ventures, after a long while. The washer beeps, the lock to the door releasing. He goes to open it.

“I’m not a ghost,” Byleth says, watching as he takes out his damp clothes and begins moving them to the dryer.

“That’s relieving,” he smiles. “I also only ever seem to see you at night.”

She only smiles faintly at that.

“Let’s spar,” she says.

“Wha—now?”

“No, tomorrow,” she says. “During the day.”

He’s not entirely sure what brought this on, but he does think he’d like very much to see her fight.

“After one o’clock?” He asks, wracking his brain for his schedule, and she considers it for a moment before nodding and hopping off of the washing machine.

She slides her feet back into her sandals ad begins walking away. Dimitri panics for a moment, because they haven’t hashed out any details.

“Wait! How will we—?”

“I’ll make myself visible,” Byleth says, already halfway out the door as she peeks back, “You won’t miss me.”

And then she’s gone. Dimitri shakes his head as he finishes moving the rest of his laundry. Once he straightens back up, he realizes she’s left her book.

A tether, he thinks.

After a moment, as he waits for his clothes to dry, he picks it up and cracks it open.

A good of a place to read as any.  

.

He tries to not tell his friends after lunch where he’s going (and technically, he doesn’t even know), but his antsiness is apparent, so his secret-keeping fails spectacularly. Sylvain and Ingrid tag team him, and he gives Ingrid a betrayed look.

“Fellas, do we think it’s a date?” Sylvain asks, holding out his hands as if he’s addressing a council.

“It’s sparring,” Ingrid says, “Not a date.”

“Could be a date,” Felix says.

“Only you would consider that a date,” Sylvain laments.

Felix shoves him. Dimitri hurries along, trying to leave them behind in the cafeteria to no avail. He really wishes he had been more insistent on details last night, because in a few moments, he’ll be at a loss of where he should be heading.

It’s a needless worry, because as he walks out, he is reminded of Byleth’s words. In the distance, where the space opens up and there are benches situated along walkways, an enormous amount of birds are flocking.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, and when his friends catch up behind him, they also stare.

“What the hell is that?” Felix says, and Dimitri picks his way towards the mass.

“Byleth, I think,” Dimitri answers faintly. “She said I wouldn’t miss her.”

When they near the birds scatter in one movement, though some brave ones flutter back. Byleth is indeed revealed to have been in the middle—and cause—of that, a bag of birdseed mostly empty in her hands. She nods her head in greeting as Sylvain starts laughing.

“Hello,” Ingrid says, whacking Sylvain once, but he doesn’t stop and doubles over instead, “I think I missed out on meeting you properly at Dorothea’s. I’m Ingrid.”

She holds out her hand, and Byleth says her name in return as she shakes it.

“I want in on the spar,” Felix says, and Sylvain wheezes, his laughter abruptly cut off by Felix’s self-imposed third-wheeling status of this potential date.

“Okay,” Byleth says without hesitation, and Ingrid and Sylvain sigh. Not a date.  

Dimitri isn’t offended, mostly intrigued. Byleth stands, brushing feathers and seeds off of her lap, and sets off in the direction of the gyms and training halls. The others follow, Ingrid and Sylvain too interested to stay behind.

Dimitri had brought a change of clothes, but it becomes evident that Byleth intends to fight in her jeans and nice blouse and heeled boots, so he doesn’t end up changing. There’s no conversation, though Sylvain fills the silence with chatter anyway, as if this is a routine they know well.

Byleth picks up a practice sword and Felix’s eyes gleam; Dimitri picks up a practice lance, handling it with a light touch.

“Best two out of three,” Byleth says, and Dimitri nods.

She lets him take first hit, the two of them warming up as they trade easy blows. She’s quick, but so is Dimitri despite his size. He does well enough at keeping her at a distance, but he misreads her intention and she lunges in close, tapping her blade against his ribs.

“Point!” Sylvain calls excitedly.

“No need to go easy,” she says, “For lances, the moment the distance closes, you have to be quick and readjust, or it’s over.”

“Yes, Professor,” Dimitri says, the title slipping out. “Ah—”

Byleth gives him an amused look but doesn’t comment, getting back into position.

They go again. Dimitri throws away some of his reservations but still not entirely, and she lands the second round too.

“Harder,” she says, and Sylvain whistles as Dimitri flushes.

“I’m concerned about my strength,” he admits, examining the practice lance. Breakage of the practice equipment itself is no matter, but it’s the ensuing issues that can arise.

“Mercenary training, remember,” Byleth says, and though they don’t see it, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid’s eyebrows rise.

Dimitri frowns, but takes a deep breath, and trusts her.

He whirls. Byleth’s reflexes are excellent and she dodges fairly easily, tracking his moments with an even sharper gaze than before. He doesn’t like fighting, but he’s been trained since he was a child; it wasn’t necessary in this day and age to know how to—it was more common to just hire protection detail against demonic or wild beasts, or other enemies—but those descended from the old noble bloodlines especially still held onto tradition, whether as a hobby or actual self-protection. Even so, he can tell the difference between them; she’s seen real battle, and though he has too, not in the same capacity. The way she strategizes and reads his movements in a split second is incredible.

The cracks from their clashing practice blades are louder, and Dimitri registers that his will shatter soon. It’s hard to control his strength when the fight is so exhilarating. He goes for it anyway, jumping back from her slash and spinning his lance in his hands rapidly; Byleth’s eyes narrow, and he lunges.

He just barely sees her move, her timing is impeccable—she jumps, stomping the tip of the lance into the ground before stepping forward and snapping his lance at its weakest point. As her foot hits the ground, she crouches low and sweeps his legs out from under him.

When he opens his eyes, she has her sword under his chin.

“A good move,” she says, “But it’s going to take more than that to catch me.”

She’s not even saying it flirtatiously. She does, however, smile at little at him before offering a hand up, and Dimitri thinks he might be in love.

“Oh, he’s done for,” Sylvain says under his breath.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” Felix scoffs, his tone almost bored, but his eyes are bright at the display of Byleth’s skill.  

Ingrid doesn’t say anything, and when the two boys turn to her, having expected her to respond, they see her typing furiously on her phone.

“Traitor,” Felix says, clicking his tongue.

“Just doing my duty,” Ingrid replies solemnly.

(Felix also loses all three bouts against Byleth, though he comes close the third time. Afterwards, they all end up training together, and even Sylvain puts his mind to it after Ingrid drags him onto the field.

“We’re getting milkshakes,” Ingrid declares, after they wrap up.

She’s sitting on the ground while Sylvain is lying flat on his back. Felix and Dimitri are less expressive, but they too look worn. Byleth is unreadable, but she does, at least, look a little winded. She offers a hand to Ingrid, while Felix rolls his eyes and pulls Sylvain up after he complains.  

“Dimitri’s buying yours, Byleth,” Ingrid says, and the two in question look surprised.

“Oh,” Byleth says, “I—”

“Allow me,” Dimitri smiles.

Byleth blinks at him.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

Felix and Sylvain look at Ingrid, who looks smug.

“I’ll buy yours, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, with a discreet salute.

“I’m buying my own,” Felix tells them.

They all fall into step. Byleth politely listens to them squabble all the way to the shop.)

.

Byleth comes and goes when she wants to, like a cat or a ghost.

On a few occasions she shows up during their group lunches, stealing fries or other sides off of someone’s plate (mostly Dimitri’s), staying only to chat for a few minutes before she is off again. Sometimes she is in the company of her friends—the ones Dimitri met at Dorothea’s party (who he learns are also her suitemates) or Linhardt von Hevring, who seems to be either half-asleep or hyperfocused on his thesis project. Dimitri actually does see her around campus sometimes now, but he does see her friends more than he does her.

“Dunno what to say about that,” Yuri tells him, when he and Dimitri cross paths and are walking the same way to their next classes, “Half the time she’s not in her room and none of us know where she is. She’s always been like that. That’s just Byleth.”

“You’ve known her long?” Dimitri queries.

“Maybe around—five, six years? Constance, Hapi, Balthus, and I banded together after some…unfortunate circumstances. Byleth helped us out of a tight spot during our last year of high school. Stuck with her ever since.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, and Yuri glances at him.

“You’re not bad, Princeling,” Yuri says after a moment. Most people want to pry into the “unfortunate circumstances” and “tight spot” that he spoke of, and Yuri feels more inclined towards Dimitri for not doing so.

Dimitri winces instead.

“It’s just…”

He trails off. Yuri can guess why.

“Ohh. Yeah, okay. I get it.”

Dimitri blinks at him in surprise.

“You do?”

Yuri doesn’t answer that. There’s little he doesn’t know about the people on campus; the Blaiddyd Heir didn’t question Yuri, so Yuri will not question him in turn.

“Byleth’s Byleth,” he says instead, “Count yourself lucky that she makes a point to find you.”

With that, Yuri nods his head and turns into his classroom. Dimitri stands there, mulling over Yuri’s words, before he realizes that he’s running late and dashes to his own class.

.

There’s a small park nearby that Dimitri goes to as well during the nights he can’t sleep. All it has is a couple of benches and a swingset and a basketball court; a surprising number of people use both during the day, but unsurprisingly, no one’s there at night.

Except Byleth. Dimitri is no longer startled when he comes across her, even though her presence is always more unexpected than not. She’s swinging on the swings, kicking up woodchips as she drags her feet.

“Hi,” Dimitri says, walking closer. “Need a push?”

She nods, and he helps her swing higher. Pretty quickly the height she reaches seems dangerous, but she just calls “higher” and so he keeps pushing, until it seems like she is going to go over the whole set.

“Um,” Dimitri says, pushing her once more, and she glances at him as she surges up.

As she glides forward and reaches the highest point—she jumps.

Dimitri yells, startled, but she soars through the air, serene and graceful with her arms outstretched, hair spreading out behind her. She nails the landing a ways away, and when she turns back to him, she has a faint smile curving her lips, looking—exhilarated.

“You scared me,” Dimitri says, holding a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, as she walks back to him. “Again?”

He frowns at her. She tilts her head. Something about the way she went through the air—he can’t place that brand of fear. He gives himself a shake, forces a weak smile onto his face.

“Okay,” he says, and she blinks at him a few times before seating herself back on the swing.

She jumps three more times before she’s satisfied, then offers to push him if he wants a turn, or four. He politely declines, but sits on the other swing, and they move back and forth lazily.

“Drink for your thoughts?” she asks after a while, and rummages through her bag that he didn’t see earlier, pulling out a glass water bottle.

Dimitri debates, taking the bottle warily.

“Did Yuri make this?” he asks, shaking it a little, and Byleth smiles at him.

“Constance did,” she says. “It’s pleasant.”

It smells fruity when he opens the top, so he takes her word for it. It goes down easily and doesn’t burn at all, so he assumes (hopes) it’s of the weaker alcohol content variety as well.

“Do you…know what you’re going to do after you graduate?” he asks hesitantly, passing the drink back to her.

Once the question is out, he realizes the truth of it—Byleth will be graduating at the end of this year. The fact saddens him more strongly than he would have thought.

She’s silent for a while, sipping twice from her bottle.

“Yes and no,” she says finally. Opens her mouth as if to speak again, closes it. Turns to him. “You’re thinking about your position as heir.”

“I want it,” he says automatically, then pauses to consider if that’s true. It doesn’t feel like a lie, but…“I…I have never known anything else.”

Byleth looks at him, leans forward a little so that her hair falls forward too.

“That’s okay too,” she says, “To want—or to be okay with—what others want of you, until you don’t.”

He looks back at her.

“How will I know if I don’t?” he asks.

“You’ll know. Or…your friends will be able to tell.” She pauses, swings a little. “It’s hard to say.”

“You seem to have all the answers,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I really gave you any,” she says.

“That helped, nonetheless,” he says, with a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiles back.

They share the drink between them until Byleth speaks again.

“I avoided your question earlier,” she says.

“Technically you answered it,” he responds, drinking again.

She snorts, and laughs a little. Dimitri feels inordinately proud of himself.

“I’m answering it again, then,” she says, though she pauses still. “I might want to be a teacher. I might want to do what my father does.” She cocks her head. “I’ve been given a lot of choices. Theoretically, I could do anything I want.” She looks at him. “I don’t know what I want.”

Dimitri pauses, holds her gaze.

“It’s okay to not want, until you do?” he tries, and she laughs again.

“Does it work like that?”

“It could,” Dimitri says. “Probably?” He pauses. “You could pick one until you don’t want it anymore.”

Byleth swings.

“It could work like that,” she says with a slight nod. She glances at him. “Thanks.”

He gives her a helpless sort of shrug, not feeling like he really gave her an answer, either. He guesses he understands how she felt just a few moments ago, then.

“Bottoms up,” she says, and drains half of the remaining liquid in the bottle, handing the rest to Dimitri to finish up.

He does so dutifully, and she puts the empty bottle back in her bag. After, she kicks off the ground, swinging higher and higher. Dimitri watches her, then gets up, walking a bit of a distance away. She watches him in turn, then flashes him a sort of sharp smile before she pumps her legs once more for momentum, then sends herself flying.

He gauges the distance, adjusting his position, then catches her as she comes hurtling down.

“Oof,” he says, as their bodies collide and he wraps his arms around her.

“Nice,” she says into his neck, then leans back to look at him.

Oh. She’s so close. His eyes widen as he stares, lips slightly parted; her expression is unreadable, but she isn’t looking away, and he can feel her breath on his skin as she tilts a little closer, his heart beating so fast he swears she must hear it—

He lets her down. His brain immediately starts screaming. Idiot idiot idiot, why did you do that, WHY DID YOU DO THAT??? WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT???

Byleth, for her part, looks unruffled and unperturbed.

“Finals are coming up,” Dimitri says, very smoothly.

She nods, walking back to the swingset to take her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

“If we’re awake, we might as well study,” she says, very seriously.

He follows her out of the park, walks her back to the dorm partway.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night,” he echoes, and he watches her walk away until he can’t see her anymore.

When she’s out of sight, he squats down and puts his head in his hands.

(He puts himself on trial tomorrow, when his friends are awake. Sylvain and Felix sit across from him, and their gazes are piercing when he recounts the previous night. Ingrid does not sit at the table because she is more inclined to be sympathetic, and moves in the background making a smoothie for herself.

Sylvain wails when Dimitri tells That Part of the story. Felix is silent, just sits there with folded arms and looks so many levels of disappointed, though it’s probably not necessarily just about this one thing.

It’s like that maybe for forty-five minutes, this whole pathetic display. Ingrid leans against the counter, drinks her smoothie, and recounts a play-by-play on her phone into one of her group chats.)

.

Dimitri does not see Byleth again until they are well into finals week, and he tries not to despair.

“It is finals week,” Mercedes says soothingly.

“And she’s a senior,” Annette adds. “She’s gotta be super busy!”

“Plus, you said you never know when you see her!” Ashe says helpfully, “It’s been longer before, right?”

“But,” Sylvain almost howls, pulling at his hair, “After that? AFTER THAT?”

“Sylvain!” Annette and Ashe scold, but Dimitri feels the same. He doesn’t even have the number so he can apologize, because she always appears and disappears so suddenly that it keeps slipping his mind to ask.

Felix’s frown has grown more severe. Ingrid and Dedue look at each other and back at Dimitri, and say nothing. Mercedes and Annette look at Ingrid almost pleadingly, who gives them a sheepish shrug.

“It’ll be okay, Dimitri!” Annette tries again, and he lets out a sad sort of keen.

“For now, just focus on finals,” Mercedes suggests, “And then maybe it’ll all work out afterwards?”

“It will at least be a distraction,” Dedue finally chimes in.

Dimitri says nothing. Sylvain says it all for him.

.

Dimitri sees Byleth’s friends around a few times, and though he knows them and they know him, he hasn’t spoken to them very much, so he feels awkward asking after Byleth. Yuri, on the other hand, he knows better, and the boy looks amused when Dimitri (hopefully) casually brings her up.

Yuri has nothing new to share though, except he does insinuate that Byleth is hard at work at finalizing her thesis paper. Dimitri calms a little at that—enough to focus better on his own work later. Yuri gives him a look and pats his shoulder lightly before walking off.    

As always, when Dimitri does find Byleth, it’s unexpected.

He’s half dead after finishing his last final, one that took place in one of the more isolated buildings on campus. Pleased that he’s finally done with that, at least, he takes the scenic route back to his dorm—there’s a glass hallway that cuts through a forested area with a river, and it’s especially beautiful this time of year.

As he looks out, movement catches his eye down below, and he’s startled to see Byleth come out from under the old stone bridge and look up at him.

His heart leaps to his throat. She waves, and he waves back hesitantly, and then she motions for him to come down.

Dimitri looks left and right, trying to figure out the best way to reach her, and he goes.

He’s slightly out of breath when he reaches her, and she has a pile of stones in her hand when he does. He blinks at them, meeting her eyes, confused and mildly concerned as to what she might use them for. Is she angry? But she’d waved him down…but was it because she was angry and about to give him a piece of her mind?

“Do you know how to skip stones?” she asks, and it takes him a minute to process.

“I…suppose I’ve never tried,” he admits.

She nods, then proceeds to do so, showing him the method. He watches as she considers the angle, then snaps her wrist as she throws the stone, which skips beautifully across the surface of the river before hitting the other side. Byleth deposits half of the stones into Dimitri’s hand, and they spend the next few minutes skipping stones—or in Dimitri’s case, trying and failing.

He ends up becoming focused on trying to succeed, Byleth keeping him stocked with a steady supply of choice stones. When he finally manages to skip one (though it only skips once before it plops into the water), he shouts in triumph, turning to her excitedly.

“Did you see that?!” he says, and freezes when he catches sight of her face.

She’s smiling, the expression both amused and proud and gentle and absolutely, absolutely mesmerizing.

“It’s nice to focus on things that aren’t exams,” she says, turning back to the river. “You’re all done?”

“Y-yes,” Dimitri stutters. “You too?”

She nods, checking her phone.

“Handed in my last paper yesterday,” she says absently, “Finished up packing up my things today.”

His throat goes dry. It feels like the world is slanting and narrowing to this point, where Byleth leaves and steps out of his life forever (forever?) and this is where it ends.

“Oh,” he says, and it comes out as almost a whisper. He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. I—do you need help moving anything?”

“No, it’s okay,” Byleth says, “I don’t…have too many things anyway. I just wanted to—”

“It would be no trouble!” Dimitri blurts, somewhat frantic. He’s cutting her off, he knows, and it’s stupid to think that if he prolongs the conversation she’ll stay a little longer, but—it’s not exactly wrong, either, is it? “I mean, I’m sure some things would be heavy, and I could—”

She looks a little surprised at his interruption, but blinks it away.

“No, I—”

“It would be faster, probably, but I mean, not that I want you to leave faster—”

“Dimitri—”

“—the opposite, really, but I mean, you’re graduating! That’s exciting, I’m sure you can’t wait to be out of here—”

“Dimitri—”

“You probably have some great summer plans, and I hope you will—”

“Go out with me.”

“Yes, exactly, go out with me, I—what?”

He snaps to attention, thinking surely he must have heard wrong. Despite the fact he was unraveling at the seams, Byleth looks amused, if also a little worried.

“I’m—sorry, could you repeat that?” he breathes, and Byleth shifts her position a little, the movement just slightly unusual.

“Go out with me?” she says again, though it’s pitched more as a question this time.

Oh, Goddess, he hadn’t heard wrong. And…that shifting, the pitch of her tone, was she—nervous?

Dimitri gapes at her and she meets his gaze calmly, though after a prolonged silence she looks to the side, tilting her head down a little as if embarrassed.

“You…can say no, you know,” she says softly, and he blanches.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean—I’d like to go out with you very much,” he says, defaulting to a more formal tone and posture out of desperation.

She looks back up at him and smiles again.

“I’m…glad I didn’t misunderstand your heartbeat last time,” she says, and he both winces and flushes at the reminder of that night.

“I—panicked,” he says, looking away. “But I…regretted it very much, after.”

“I know,” Byleth says.

“You know?” he asks, mouth falling open a little.

She only nods, amused again, but offers no explanation.

“Come here,” she says, motioning for him to lean down.

He does, and she kisses his cheek.

“Hand,” she says, and he obeys mechanically, shocked by that simple action.  

Byleth pulls out a marker and scrawls on his wrist. He stares at it incredulously when she pulls away.

“My number,” she says pointedly when he doesn’t say anything. “I do actually have to go, but call me. Or text me. Whatever. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Of…course not,” he says, somewhat in awe. This is happening, it’s really happening.

Byleth looks like she wants to laugh again, but she gives him a little wave and makes her way back up to the building. It takes him too long to recover and realize that he should have walked her back. When he does regain his senses, however, he pulls out his phone, typing out a text as fast as he can.

Can we meet over the summer?

It’s only a few minutes before he receives a reply.

Yes.

Are you free next week?

Yes.

Canitakeyououttuesdayarounclunchtime

There’s a few seconds of pause, and Dimitri suspects she is laughing.

Yes. It’s a date.

He grins stupidly at his phone, rereading the conversation over and over again until he’s satisfied. Then he runs back to his dorm, throwing open the door with wild abandon.

“Guess what!” he shouts into the room, and he’s in luck, because all three of his suitemates are there, each in the midst of something different. Sylvain pokes his head out of his room, Felix looks up from the stove, and Ingrid looks over from the laundry she’s folding.

“Oh, shit, really?” Sylvain says, taking in Dimitri’s expression and also honing in on the number on Dimitri’s wrist. “You finally got her number?”

“We’re dating!” he announces, then pauses. “I mean, well, if I understood correctly, unless she was just—?”

“You’re dating,” Ingrid tells him before anxiety can take him over, grinning widely. “Congrats.”

Felix just waves the spatula in his hand, but he mutters thank the Goddess—about fucking time under his breath.

Sylvain, who is closest, is the first to be subjected to one of Dimitri’s bone-crushing hugs, and even spun around a few times. Felix hisses from where he stands, but is unable to escape being next in line. Ingrid laughs and pats Dimitri’s back when it’s her turn.

“Had a good semester?” she asks fondly.

“It was an excellent semester,” Dimitri says brightly.

“Disgusting,” Felix grumbles, and Ingrid and Sylvain laugh.

.

.

.

Dimitri knocks on the door nervously, trying not to fidget too much as he waits. He doesn’t have to wait long, however—but when the door opens, his eyes go wide.

A man roughly his own height, muscular and rugged with a scar across his cheekbone, a grave sort of face, and an air of someone who demands respect without having to ask for it, stands in the doorway with a large mug in hand.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice rough and deep.

Dimitri’s attention goes to the mug for a moment, which he registers reads “World’s Best Dad” in big letters, confirming his assumptions.

“I’m—here to pick up Byleth?” Dimitri manages, and to his relief, Byleth’s father simply nods and turns back into the house.

“By! Your Blaiddyd boy is here!” then, turning back to Dimitri, “Come in.”

He wonders briefly how he knows who Dimitri is on sight; his name might be well known enough, but he tries to stay out of anything where his image might be broadcasted. He steps inside cautiously, then glances at the man again. There’s something strangely familiar about him that he can’t quite place, and it’s not because of his relation to Byleth, because they look nothing alike.

“The kid’ll be a minute,” her father says, “Anyway, I’m Jeralt. Obviously, I’m By’s dad.”

“I’m Dimitri Blaiddyd,” Dimitri introduces, with a weak smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jeralt just grunts and pats Dimitri’s shoulder in acknowledgement before offering him coffee, which Dimitri accepts out of nervousness. The drink is potent and bracing, without sugar or milk, and Jeralt refills his own mug.

Dimitri peeks at him from over the rim, still trying to figure out why Jeralt is familiar as the man stretches, the multitude of pops and cracks coming from his body making Dimitri wince.

“Don’t get old,” Jeralt tells him, “How reckless you were in your youth doesn’t fuck around when it cashes in.”

“You’re reckless now,” Byleth says as she comes down the stairs. “Cut back on the drinking.”

She’s in a loose blouse and mid-length skirt this time, a pink headband decorating her hair. Every time Dimitri seems her she seems to be sporting a different style. It’s fun.

Jeralt grunts.

“Yeah, well, can’t avoid recklessness in my line of work, and Rhea sure as hell don’t know how to take it easy. Trust me, the drinks are necessary.”

It clicks, then, and Dimitri almost cracks the cup in his hands. He lets out a strangled noise, and both Byleth and Jeralt look at him.

“You’re Jeralt Eisner,” he wheezes, looking to Byleth and back to Jeralt again. “You guard Madam Rhea—you’re the Blade Breaker, Seiros Security’s finest!”

Jeralt drinks his coffee.

“Well, it’s embarrassing to be called that, and also—kid, he didn’t know?”

Byleth shrugs. “Never came up.”

Jeralt sighs.

“Well, there it is, then. Yeah, Rhea and I go…way back, and now I’m in charge of her security company. By’s been trained since she was a kid, so…if you have any issues, she’s got your back.”

Dimitri looks at Byleth, who flashes him a peace sign with a deadpan expression.

“Thank you,” he says, for lack of anything else to say. She nods.

Jeralt looks amused, then waves them off.

“Anyway, have fun or whatever, and bring him back by curfew if he has one, kid.”

Byleth nods, and Dimitri looks back and forth, unable to fully process the information he’s just learned. But Byleth tugs him along, they’re out of the house and in his car before he regains his senses and looks at her.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me,” he says, and Byleth smiles faintly.

“Yuri says a lady cannot reveal her secrets,” she says, “But I think I’d like to start sharing them with you.”

Dimitri blinks at her, surprised, but then smiles.

“I’d be honored if you did,” he says. “There are…things I’d like to tell you as well, in time.”

She nods, looking pleased.

“We’ve got plenty,” she says. “So, where to?”

“There’s a new Duscurian spot that opened up a couple miles away. I was thinking we try it?”

“Lead the way,” Byleth smiles.

Dimitri starts driving. He lets Byleth choose the music and roll down the window; the wind ruffles their hair vigorously and she tries to keep it out of his face for him, which makes him laugh before she just rolls the windows up again.

He knows this is just the beginning, but there’s happiness bubbling up in his chest and a sense of ease and contentment over them both—so what he also knows is that it’s going to be a wonderful summer.