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thera-daydreams · 3 years ago

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PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

#trese #trese 2021 #trese netflix #maliksi #maliksi x reader #tikbalang #trese fic #x reader #trese x reader #thera.writes

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

Text

The Partner / Chapter Eleven, "The Abyss"

Word Count: 5.4k / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song: / It's Not The Same Anymore by Rex Orange County (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"The day after my baby died what shocked me the most was the sun still rose, and the post still slipped through my mailbox, and I still got thirsty, and the birds still sang, and the traffic lights still changed colour . . but my world had stopped, my planet had stopped spinning."

- Zoe Clark-Coates

I tried to stay there, beside him and with him, but I couldn't. The stillness had returned and I was sucked into its world once again, watching time pass in front of me. Waking up was the hardest, knowing what I had come back to and not wanting to move, let alone leave the bed. It wasn't ours and I was glad for it, if it was the only thing that made me feel a hint of that. I couldn't imagine lying in ours and my recommended bed rest was welcomed.

I didn't try to fight it, the emptiness that swam around inside of me, silencing my ears to Harry's words. His questions and pleas for me to eat. Somehow, I sat there and I did, sometimes. I ate and laid on the couch, watching Friends with him. He didn't think I noticed, but I did. I saw how he skipped the episodes where Phoebe was pregnant as we watched the show through for what must be the third time. I wasn't asleep like he thought when he tearfully told my dad over the phone what had happened. His sister. My brother. I pretended again when Skye stopped over with food that Harry took quietly, and when Myles did too. I listened in the bedroom or on the couch, my eyes closed, as he cried to his mom and then his best friend. I was there listening, but I wasn't there feeling. I couldn't.

I'd lost count of how many times I'd blinked and Harry had been talking to me, going on to repeat himself for what- the fourth time? How was I supposed to know?, I think this time as he stares back at me, a not so secret sigh following his words.

"I'm sorry. What'd you say?"

"I said you need to eat," he repeats, nodding his head towards the plate of food I hadn't touched. I should've known. Despite it being our favorite tacos from Pedro's, I couldn't even stomach the idea of actually eating it. Sighing, he's shaking his head as he dumps another helping of their chips onto his plate. "I don't want to argue about this again. You need to eat, love."

"Neither do I, but I'm not hungry, Harry."

Snapping the lid back onto the nacho cheese sauce, his head is shaking back and forth. Watching his movements, he habitually bites at his bottom lip, seemingly coaxing the words back in.

"I didn't push when you weren't hungry at breakfast, but it's two in the afternoon, Becks. You-."

"I had a protein drink. I'm fine."

"How can you say that?!" his volume shocks me, hearing his words echo around the empty house. Gulping, I look away from his fiery eyes and to the food that makes my stomach turn. "You're not fine. All you've had to eat the last few days are a few bites at meals, and those stupid protein drinks. That can't be healthy. You need to eat because . . "

"Because why, Harry?" I speak up, bringing my eyes back to his. They avoid mine though as he stands across the island from me, rubbing his thumb along the tip of another finger. "You don't know, do you? You can't use the 'eating for two' excuse anymore, because I'm not . . eating for two, am I? I'm not . . not pregnant, so why should I need to eat? You don't have an answer, do you?"

"Because of you, Becks. You need to heal, your body needs the food and-," he begins to insist, but my sharp tongue can't be controlled.

"Trying to shove food down my throat and practically counting the number of bites I take is not going to heal my body, Harry," I retort, sliding off the barstool and stomping my way up the stairs.

Stopping at the landing, I'm not sure what led me up here, seeing as how we're sleeping downstairs now. Something about 'less exertion on my part and I haven't even stepped foot in our bedroom since then' being the reason for the move. The day we came home Harry had moved everything downstairs that we'd needed, and to the bathroom that we use now. It wasn't the same, but was anything anymore?

"Why can't you just talk to me?" he calls from the kitchen. Already, I'm shaking my head before he's finished. I take one step and then two, but I don't get any further when I see the door to the other guest bedroom. The room where they would have slept, and one that I most of all can't step foot in. My foot lifts but I place it back down, wishing I could but knowing that I can't. No, everything about the wound still felt too fresh and I know that I'm not ready to walk back into the nursery. But when could I ever be?

"I'm going to lie down," I mutter, passing the island where he stands, shoving the last of a taco past his lips.

Padding past the living room where the last of Beetlejuice plays with neither of us watching, I hope that he doesn't notice the gleam to my cheeks. I try to wipe it away quickly, and only when my face is buried into the pillow do I let my scream out. The one I'd been holding in all day as he watched me eat a few strawberries at breakfast, during the checkup at the doctor's, and zoning out watching the movie. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't stop the avalanche happening around my heart. It felt like the death of a loved one, because well, it was. There's the death and not even the funeral, and then what? Nobody ever talks about what comes after and how to deal with grief. Everything looked good at the doctor's visit and Harry asked a bajillion questions while I wasn't even sure what to say. I could tell he wanted to say something about how I'd been acting, but I silently thanked him for not doing so. Just like how I do the same now, knowing that he won't walk in as I cry myself to sleep for what, the fifth time in the last four days? No, it had been more than that.

I couldn't blame him, because even if he was here with his arms wrapped around me, I wouldn't know what to do. That feeling jumped off my tongue when I told him to go away yesterday when I lied about taking a nap. He'd only wanted to take one too perhaps, but I'd jumped down his throat. I didn't know what was happening to me, but there was hardly a small part of me that cared. I didn't even wish that I did.

Throat aching and eyes burning, I breathe in past the sniffles and stare out the window where light leaks in from. My baby. Our baby. I still couldn't believe that they were gone, our daughter. I'd never get to feel her kick or know what her smile looked like. I was sure it looked like his, lopsided with two dimples. That made my cheeks grow wetter, but it worsened when I thought of her name and the hollowness that came with it. I didn't stir when the door slowly creaked open, only staring at the new strip of light that interrupted the darkness.

"I'm going for a walk. Would you like to come?" Harry says, caution at the forefront of his voice. I couldn't find it in me to answer, not even when the next words came, making the line of yellow disappear entirely from my vision. "Alright, well I have my phone if you need anything . . I hope you sleep well, bug. I love you . . so much."

"Love you," I whispered, but it was too late. The yellow line had disappeared and so had he. It had only been four days since our baby had died and it felt like months, far too many. "Harry?" I call, sitting up to turn towards the door. Hastily wiping my hand under my eyes, I listen intently.

It's only moments before the wash of light returns, casting shadows along his face. His eyebrows fall into a questioning V and I try to ignore the extra tablespoon of sadness in his eyes.

"I love you too," I say tearfully, catching the tear before it falls from my eye.

A corner of his mouth itches upwards, but not quite, "I love you more, Becks." It sits on my tongue, impatient for its chance that I'm afraid doesn't come. "Were you gonna say something more?"

"No, just . . bundle up for your walk. It's cold."

"I will," he smiles, sending me a wink before closing the door quietly behind him. I remain in that pose, sitting up and watching the door, wishing he'd come back. I almost said it, but for some reason, I couldn't.

Why couldn't I just ask him to stay and to come and lie down with me? Because, he'd ask questions or want to talk about it, the thing that consumed us both, even if we tried to pretend otherwise. No, I was far past that. I never had the poker face that he did.

He didn't think that I heard him, but by now, we had gotten good at pretending in one way or another. Harry pretended like things were okay, and I pretended that I didn't hear him sobbing his eyes out in the bathroom as I laid in bed, faking being asleep yet another night. It tore at my heart but I didn't know how to tell my legs to move and cross the hallway to him. I acted as if I ate half of my plate at dinner, per our new deal, but I really only ate a quarter and threw the rest away. I pretended to not see the second glance he gave me when he walked in on me changing. I knew it but acted as if I didn't see the thinner reflection of myself, despite knowing how nutrition worked.

I ignored it a lot, but the next day when the doorbell rang yet again with a delivery man on the other side, it was enough. As I walked away from the door with another strong-smelling vase in hand, I couldn't fake it anymore. Seeing as how nothing was normal anymore, the kitchen table now overflowed with vases of flowers, us having not eaten there for weeks. My feet refused to move any closer to the hoard of a smell that now made my stomach turn.

I don't remember telling my body to do it, but suddenly, I'm watching in slow motion as the glass shatters at my feet. I couldn't tell you why I stood there, staring at the tendrils of water spreading on the floor. Neither could I explain away tossing the flowers into the garbage can with the note I never read. They all said the same thing. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' 'Thinking of you,' blah blah. Harry had been gone for a while, getting groceries at the market, and it was only a matter of time before he came back. I wasn't sure how I would explain this, and as I picked up the shards of glass, the guilt grew in my gut. The rumble of an engine outside made me jump, worrying it was Harry. Wincing, my palm suddenly burns and upon looking, scarlet soon seeps from a new cut.

I ignored his casual greeting ten minutes later, probably kicking the door closed behind him. He didn't say anything about the flowers, because for the first time in two weeks, I took out the trash after sweeping up the mess. I stuffed the blood-spotted rag in there too. When he pushed the bedroom door open with a long creak, I played pretend again, acting like I didn't hear his voice.

"You sleeping, bug?" his molasses voice mumbled, marked by the soft fall of his feet. I hadn't even heard them cross the room until they stopped behind me, and I felt his touch. "I hope you're having sweet dreams. I missed you, I do all of the time lately," he murmurs against my head.

I find it hard to not stir when his fingers drag against my temple with a lock of my hair. It had been something I'd gotten used to ignoring, but this time, as he pressed his lips to my temple, I wanted to reach out to him and grab hold, and never let go. The sensation only grew stronger as the sound of his footsteps disappeared, it all coming to a head. One that's only answered by a fitful of sobs racing past my lips, the first thing I'd felt in a while, next to the guilt at the flowers. Why couldn't I be okay? It stung, the words calling for him that I held back as I heard the sounds of cupboards opening and closing. I knew he would come. Did I really, after all I'd put him through? No, I didn't really know that. I wasn't sure of anything anymore, I realized, and it only made me sob harder.

Dinner was a doozy yet again. I'd come to dread meals. The stare-downs Harry would give me along with the protein drink he always shoved my way a good fifteen minutes after my last bite, if any. It was like clockwork yet again. This time, it was Strawberries and Cream, and as I grabbed for the bottle sitting in front of me, he stopped. No, this wasn't how it went. He usually took my plate and dumped it in the garbage, no longer sticking it in the fridge for later, because he knew that there wouldn't be one. Most of the time he only filled the plate half full, but today, I guess he'd gotten his hopes up and filled it high. Now, he didn't walk away and instead, stood there looking. At what I didn't notice until I followed his eyesight, immediately pulling the sleeve of my sweater over my hand.

"Hey, what happened to your hand?" Harry asks, nodding to the appendage that disappears like a frightened turtle into its shell. I didn't need him asking any more questions than before, or finding another reason to nag at me. "Love?"

"I-It's nothing, I just got a scratch."

"A scratch doesn't require gauze. Let me see," he insists, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. His touch is gentle but nonetheless, it feels foreign somehow, and I retract my hand from his. I catch his eye and look away, but it's too late, I've already seen how they look. How he looks at me, offended and scared all in one. "Buggie, did you . . did you do this to yourself?"

"What?" the word passes my lips in one breath, like a whoosh. Now, I'm looking at him and already, the regret has glazed over his eyes. His lips are parting with a save face, but it's too late now. "I didn't hurt myself, Harry. It's not like that. I-."

"Then what happened, Becks? Why can't you tell me, huh?" he huffs loudly, dropping his clean plate into a sink with a clash! It makes me jump and the sound of defeat from him makes him realize aloud. "I want you to talk to me, and . . I miss talking to you."

The cogs turn in my brain but the puzzle pieces with a few dozen missing ones refuse to lock together at the sound of his voice. What could I even say that would sound right? Nothing would, I know it. A quietness settles over the kitchen save for another trashy show on the tv behind us, my barstool squeaking underneath me. I could count the seconds that a word doesn't pass between us until my rebuttal is impossible to push down.

"Why won't you go to that session Dr. Baker set up for you?"

"I'm not hurting myself, Harry," I repeat, peeling my eyes from my naked fingers to look at the back of his head.

"Why won't you ever just give me an answer?" turning around, his lost green eyes fall on me. It felt like a long time ago, the way that very pair could pull words from my lips. Feelings. Kisses. Love. It digs past my own and deep into my chest, but it comes up empty-handed.

"I'm not going to a fucking shrink," I answer, remembering the bottle. Giving it a shake, I feel his eyes hot on the top of my head, waiting for me to give him something. That wasn't something I'd done for a long time, and not even the bare minimum.

"How come? You don't know that it won't help unless you try, Becks," I'm already shaking my head, sure to cause his eyes a roll or two at that. The sloshing of the liquid in my hand suffices my words, because they would have been a mess too. "I wish you'd at least give it a shot, you never know what will happen. It's sure to help to talk about . . her."

"I don't want to go, Harry. Please, just drop it."

Without looking at him, I can tell that he's not finished, even as I try to will the silence away with the glug of a drink.

"No, I'm not dropping it. This is important, Becks. You need to learn to talk about the baby. We need to."

Slamming the drink down onto the counter, the loud thud resonates with me, sounding louder than I'd intended. It reflects in his eyes when I meet them, wondering how they could still hold sunshine in them. I can't even remember what that feels like.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about her, Harry. Did you ever think about that? Maybe I don't want to go and talk to some stranger about how my baby died inside of me. A fucking stranger that probably has kids of her own or some man who's never even wanted children. They don't know and they can't know what I'm going through."

The artificial taste of the berries and cream had grown acrid on my tongue. Turning away from him with my feet leading, I could feel the one mouthful turning in my stomach.

"I can't do this any longer, buggie. I-I've lost our baby and now . . God, now I'm losing you and it's scaring the shit out of me," if my feet had continued, I wouldn't have kept walking. I'd known. I could feel the truth of his words ring in my bones, but hearing them spoken into the air was something else. "I don't know what to do anymore, Rebecca," the river had already begun to run in his voice. I was sure that if I stepped foot into it, I just might drown again too, and so I didn't. It tried to grab hold of me, but with every step taken away from him, its strength dwindled. The worsening ache in my chest at the sound I heard didn't lessen, not even when I threw myself under the covers and pillows. It filled my insides as a similar one poured from me.

It was as if last night had never happened. The entire thing almost, but not in the way I'd wished. No, I'd yearned for a lot of things in the last few weeks and not gotten them. When I awoke the next morning to the sounds of breakfast and the tv playing, it felt like some kind of joke when Harry walked into the bedroom soundlessly with a suit wrapped around him.

On his way back from what must have been finding his rings on the nightstand, he caught my eye as he slid them on. "Hey," he murmurs, a hollowness to his voice that felt deeper than last night. "I was hoping you'd wake up soon."

"Are you going to work?" the question came, piercing the taut air between us. We both already knew by the clothes he wore and the attempt he made to comb back his hair.

"Is that alright? It's just a partner meeting and some managing stuff. If you don't want me to-."

"No, it's fine. Drive safe," I mumble, turning to place my back to him. I could almost hear his nod, knowing it was there as the floor creaked underfoot.

"I will. Maybe I can grab some gnocchi soup on the way home for lunch. I shouldn't be more than a few hours."

My response didn't come and a further one from him didn't either. The sound of the bedroom door behind him did, as well as the front door and that of the garage. It had been next to never the first two weeks that the house was empty, save for me. Just in the last week, he had been leaving more for errands and grocery runs, no longer sufficing with deliveries to our front door. I'd only left the front door once, maybe twice, and that was for the checkup a few days after. A part of me wanted to just walk around the block, but the thought itself tired me out.

I couldn't remember how long he'd been gone by the time my stomach had rumbled. The last piece of cheesecake in the fridge and leftover pizza passed for lunch, if it was even that time. I couldn't do it anymore. Time. The light or lack of outside helped at times, but in our surrogate bedroom, the blackout shades didn't allude to night or day. I wasn't even sure of the time on the clock when he'd left, or even the calendar.

I hadn't turned the pages of one for a while now and upon seeing the date on my phone, it seemed foreign. Everything had at one point over the course of this all now, but the mysterious passing of it hadn't. I'd get the day of the week down and a few days later it would be a Monday again, unbeknownst to me how it could be. I grabbed another snack and was soon confused to find myself loading the dishwasher. Running it. Wiping down the counters. Washing blankets and fluffing pillows.

When I reached the top of the staircase, the blankets I needed just a few steps away, I didn't know how I had gotten here. As if in slow motion, I watched as the door swung open, the image slapping me in the face. I didn't have a clue how I had done it or how it had gotten past me to come up here to this room. The Room. Already, I saw the gift bags I knew to be filled with clothes and other gifts, the stuffed animals, small knitted blankets, and the picture frames with sonograms that once adorned the house. The image had already burned itself to the back of my eyes, only to be replaced by another moments later when the bed of my nightmares sat in front of me.

I didn't know why I'd gone to either place. The nursery and then our bedroom. It wasn't my refuge anymore because I wasn't sure if I still had one. Neither place was safe and my heart didn't feel it either when I pulled the covers over my head, an avalanche of tears making its way through my body. I didn't want to see any of that again. Being reminded of it all was something I couldn't handle, because I hadn't wanted it to be true.

The clock ticked and darkness remained in the room until it didn't. A new sound came, that of footsteps and with it was brought a light that I couldn't face. It built and grew, surmounting when I heard his voice and the crinkle of a bag.

"Hi, buggie. Are you awake? I brought home some lunch," I pushed it down again and again, but it was feeling next to impossible now.

"I'm not hungry."

"But I got your favorite muffin," he teases, crinkling of the bag following his words. The smell of the lemon cream hits my nose, but it doesn't phase me. No, the boiling underneath my skin is too different.

"I said I'm not hungry, Harry. What do you not get about that?!" I snap, pushing the bag away. "I can't believe you're already back to work. How can you just move on so quickly?" His loud sigh is unmistakable, as is the way he slams the bedroom door behind him.

The racing of my heart pounded in my ears as different sounds found their way to me. I laid there waiting and listening as he slammed doors and cursed, not immune to jumping when something shattered before a loud 'fuck!' of his came.

There hadn't been a sound for a while now when I pull back a blanket, at last not able to hear the pounding of my heart. I wasn't sure what I thought I was doing, knowing that there was no way around it. More like, him. Cautiously, I made my way past the tv playing a rerun of Saved By The Bell, and towards him. There weren't many things I'd memorized about Harry after knowing him for a few weeks, maybe shorter. I learned his cues early because I had to in order to work with him and to get somewhere, especially those alluding to his anger.

The broad back that faced me from where he sat at the island didn't tell me what I needed to know but the tension held in his shoulders did. So did the clicking of his tongue, the bouncing of his leg, and most of all, his shaking head and perturbed exhales.

"I saved you a muffin. It's in the fridge. I know that's how you like it . . Soup's in there too," the offer comes out slowly and off his forked tongue, one I know all too well. Perhaps it hadn't made an appearance yet, but it was right there, waiting. "No 'thank you, Harry' or 'how was work, my fiance?'"

"How was work, Harry? Who all asked about me? What lie did you tell them this time, my fiance?" I nearly retort, not afraid to show my horns. The lid to the jar of nuts gets stuck, but with a good twist, I get it. Pouring a handful into a plastic container, I let the next one fly before turning around. "What'd they say when you told them about our dead baby?"

The trained facade on his face washes away upon turning and quickly I realize what I've done. It's not enough though, because time has been against me for its entirety.

"You don't get to act like this. It's not okay to say that kind of shit, Becks," he tuts, wiping a napkin across his lips before standing with bowl in hand.

"But it's okay for you to go back to work already, Harry?!" the question explodes on my lips, but the volcano isn't quite done. "Our baby hasn't even been gone a month."

"You think I don't know that?!" his voice echoes off the walls around us, hitting my ears with an intensity that surprises me. If that hadn't, the expression on his face does. The anger that melts into something else. "Do you think I don't know how long our daughter's been gone, Rebecca? I wake up every morning with a new number in my head, no matter how hard I try not to. I know, okay? Twenty-three days our baby's been gone, Becks. You think I'm not having the same thoughts- feelings just because I don't show them . . And I'm not pulling a 'who has it worse' like our parents always have with us, but- but I lost a baby too, Becks! I also lost a child and you seem to forget that. I was supposed to become a dad in August to a little girl, but I never will now. I'll never meet our Phoebe Anne either."

His cheeks had long ago come to glisten as did his eyes that overflowed with them. I didn't remember mine becoming the same. Was it when something fell apart in my chest, or when the anger melted away into utter guilt? Maybe it was in between the missing puzzles piece falling into the picture and being unaware to dropping the bowl back onto the counter.

"We named her and we've never even called her that and- . . for lack of better words, it kills me. All of this fucking kills me, Becks, and I know how it's doing the same to you. It's taking you away from me and it's almost worse than the night I thought you were going to die, because I'm supposed to be able to control this. I'm the dad, almost the husband- I'm supposed to be able to fix all of this, but I can't. For once, I can't fucking make it all better and it terrifies me . . ," he trails off, crying quietly into his hands that he presses to his face. A weakness overwhelms me and I back up into the counter, afraid I can't hold myself up, but I already hadn't been able to. "Phoebe's gone and- I can hardly bear it. I know you didn't mean what you said just now, because I told Myles before I came that . . that I couldn't talk about it to anybody, Becks. If somebody had I know I would've started crying, because I did the fucking second I saw the sonogram on my desk. I went in to grab something and forgot it was there," he stops, holding onto the countertop as his adam's apple bobs after his words. Red like wild cherries, his lips press together tightly while tears run races over them and down his chin, as he stares at the floor, whimpering.

"I don't want this to break us, Becks- I already know it has and I can't . . I can't lose you. I have so many times and I couldn't handle it if it happened again, for real," his voice frays at the edges from the weight it sits under. The pounds of it feel dropped onto my shoulders when his eyes carry over to me, dripping with unspent words. "We lost our baby and I can't lose my best friend and love too, Becks. Please come back to me."

"I wish I knew how," the reply is a mere whisper but I know he hears. Even without words, he always does.

"You have to try, bug. We have to talk about her, I don't want her to be forgotten."

Bottom lip wobbling, my response is immediate, "Neither do I, Harry, but I don't- I don't know how to talk about her. It hurts so much. I still don't want any of this to be real."

Wiping the back of his hand against his nose, I hear his agreement in his eyes as he takes a step forward, "I wish every day that I could wake up and she's there and not . . not gone, but she's not coming back, Becks. And I'm so sorry," weeping, his voice is taken under by the current of the river flowing down his face. "We have to face it . . to talk about her and what happened. Or else, I don't see us getting through this."

When I realize what I'm doing, the look on his face tells all. Something sparks inside of me and I wish that I could stop shaking my head. That I could stop pulling away from him. "I can't, Harry. I'm not . . I'm not ready," I murmur, wishing I could say that I don't know when I will be. I don't because that would be a lie and although I'd broken so many rules already, I didn't want to lie to him.

Placing my back to him, I make my escape and drown out his sobs with the running water of the tub. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about her, and I know he's right. If we can't get past this, we may never make it back from it.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #harry au #lawyer romance #office romance #harry styles #harry styles wattpad #wattpad #fanfiction #young adult fiction #new book #hecky #pa harry #vanchlo writes

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winchesterbrotherstan · 5 years ago

Text

Supernatural- The Benders (1.15)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: Before the siblings can even dig into their new case, Sam goes missing. Dean and Olive set out to find him. While Dean puts himself at risk, Olive loses control more than once to save her brothers.

Warnings: cursing, guns, blood, crazy people, etc

Word Count: 5779

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already.” Mrs. McKay sighed. “I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true.”

“Mrs. McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities.” Sam nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so…” Dean trailed off.

I turned to the young boy with a soft smile. “Okay, Evan. Now don’t worry about how crazy it sounds. You just tell us what you saw.”

“I was up late watching TV.” He shook his head. “When I heard this noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asked, leaning in.

“It sounded like… like a monster.” He gave puppy eyes, and I glanced at Sam and Dean.

Dean looked back, eyebrows furrowed and a serious look on his face.

“Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.” Mrs. McKay shot her son a look.

Evan sighed. “Godzilla vs Mothra.”

Dean broke into a huge grin, and I felt my heart glow. Dean was great with kids, and it made me so happy to see him revert back to his real, child-like self around them.

“That’s my favorite Godzilla movie. It’s so much better than the original, huh?”

“Totally!” Evan grinned.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded toward Sam. “He likes the remake.”

“Yuck!”

Dean laughed as Sam glared at us and Evan giggled.

Sam shook his head. “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No.” Evan shook his head. “But I saw it grab Mr. Jenkins! I pulled him underneath the car.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“It took him away! I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.” He looked worried.

Sam and I looked at each other, and Dean sighed.

“What did it sound like, Evan?”

“Like this… whining growl…” He shook his head. “I can’t make it.”

I shook my head, patting his shoulder. “It’s okay, Evan.”

“Thanks for your time.” Sam smiled as we stood.

***

“So, local police have now ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle.” Sam snorted before taking a sip of his beer.

A fake ID that Dean perfected at a CopyJack after six or seven tries, hair tied up, glasses, heeled boots, and makeup, and I was in at a bar. No drinking though, because god forbid a Winchester do something self-destructive. Sam had, thankfully, ordered me a girly drink that had no alcohol. I was more interested in watching Dean play darts. Jinx was at the motel room, where we had paid the manager extra to let her out every few hours. This case was going to take all of us and all of our attention. We were beginning to think getting a dog wasn’t the best idea.

“Well, they could be right.” Dean shrugged before throwing another dart. “It could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” I sighed, flipping through Dad’s journal. “Except, Dad marked the area.” I lifted the journal and shook it.

Dean came over, taking the journal from me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker.” He tilted his head. “Why would he even do that?”

“Well, he found lots of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night.” I pointed to the journal, taking a sip from my glorified orange juice. “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too. This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the entire state.”

“That is weird.” Dean scrunched his nose up as he sat next to me.

“Yeah, it is.” Sam nodded.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually, like…” Dean shrugged. “I dunno, snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was snatched from a driveway.”

“Well, there are all kinds.” Sam shrugged.

“Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. Take people anytime, anywhere.”

“Look Dean, I dunno if this is our kind of gig either.” Sam shrugged again.

I sighed. “You guys might be right. Kid was cute, but he might’ve just watched too much TV.”

“Alright. We should ask around some more tomorrow.”

“Right.” Sam fished out his wallet. “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. Let’s have another round.” Dean grinned.

I winced. “Uh. Sammy’s right. We should get an early start.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You, you two really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandmas?”

I chuckled as Sam shook his head with a smile. I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on. “Let’s roll out.”

“Roll out?” Dean laughed. “Alright, I’ll meet you outside, I gotta take a leak.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. I packed Dad’s journal up as Sam shut his laptop.

“Alright, come on, bug.” Sam slung an arm around me with a kiss to the top of my head.

We walked out through the people and into the cold. I shivered, pulling my coat further around me. There was a noise, and I looked around, tucking Dad’s journal under my arm. Sam pulled out a flashlight, and I took it as I bent down to look under the car.

There was a black cat, and it hissed at me. I giggled as I popped to my feet, handing the flashlight out to Sam.

“Sam?” I asked as I turned around.

He wasn’t there.

“Sammy?”

“Sam?” I tossed the journal onto Baby’s hood.

“Sam! Sammy! Sams!” I spun around, frantic. “Sammy! Sams!”

“Ollie?”

I spun around in a circle. Dean was coming toward the car, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone.” I shrugged. “I dunno where he went. I looked under the car a-a-and it was a fucking cat, and I got up, a-a-a-and he’s just, just fucking gone!” I looked around, trying to find Sam.

“Olive, what?” Dean grabbed me by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gone, Dean! What about that are you not fucking understanding?”

“Hey!” Dean shouted, catching my attention.

I let out a breath as I looked up at Dean, feeling my nose burn. “I lost him.”

“No, no no no no. Hey, no.” Dean grabbed me by the face as tears began to brew in my eyes and a terrible feeling bubbled in my stomach.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll find him. Promise.” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

Two people came around the corner, clearly drunk. I wiggled out of Dean’s grip and ran toward them.

“Hey! You guys been outside, maybe an hour or so?” I asked, feeling panic rise.

They only shook their heads, and Dean came after me, confused.

“Sam!”

“Sammy! Sams!” I screamed, running into the street.

Empty. Nothing, nobody. Dean ran into me, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking around.

“Sam.”

I sighed. “No. No…” I shuddered, realizing what had happened. “It took him. Evan was right. Something’s out here, De.” I began to pant. “It took him.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows with a sigh. “What?”

“It fucking took him, Dean! Whatever took Jenkins took Sammy. It took our Sam. We-we-we…” I struggled to breathe, feeling lightheaded.

My vision got spotty, and I felt weak, so weak.

“Sammy’s gone.” I whimpered. “We have to find him. We have to find him!”

I blinked, hard. Jinx would lose her mind if we came home without Sam. Dean grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Okay. Okay. So we work this like any other job.” Dean nodded, and my eyes widened so far they began to burn.

“Any … other… job?” I asked.

“Yes.” He nodded, sniffing and keeping himself composed.

I shook my head. “No. No.” I slid from his grip and fell to the floor, crying.

“Sammy!” I screamed, throwing my head back.

There was spit flying out of my mouth, and my head was throbbing, the ground under my knees was cold and wet and soaking through my jeans, and I was horrified.

“Olive. Olive. Hey! Listen to me.” Dean dropped to his knees and grabbed me by the face, forcing me to face him. “Sweetheart. Beanie. My girl, my beautiful, beautiful girl.” He pulled me into his front. “We will find him. I swear to you we will find him.”

I sighed into his chest, fists balling in his shirt. “You swear?” I looked up.

He nodded. “I swear.”

I sniffled. Dean wouldn’t lie. Not about that. Dean was our savior, and if he promised we would find Sam, then we would find Sam. I wrapped my arms around him and let out a breath.

“We’ll find him.”

***

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington?” The deputy behind the desk asked.

“I’m working a missing persons.” Dean spoke from a place deep in his chest.

He was worried, but he would be damned if he let that show.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police.” She looked over me with a sympathetic gaze.

“Oh, no. No, there’s someone else.”

“Uh, he’s actually my brother. Him and my cousin here were hanging out a bar last night, down by the highway.” I blurted, hoping a play like this would work in our favor.

“Honey, how old are you?” She asked, leaning forward.

“I’m fifteen.”

She sighed. “And does your brother have a drinking problem, sweetie?”

“Sam?” Dean chuckled. “Two beers and he’s doing karaoke.” He joked. “No, no he wasn’t drunk. He was taken.”

She nodded. “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester.” I cleared my throat.

“Like the rifle?” She chuckled, and Sam and I nodded.

“Like the rifle.”

She shook her head as she typed it into her computer, clicking something afterwards.

“Samuel William Winchester. You must be Olive Sam Winchester.” She smiled.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I looked a lot like him when I was born, so… Sam’s my middle name.” I huffed.

“So… Dean Winchester. The brother.” She looked up at me.

“Yeah.” I sniffed. “Died in St. Louis. Murder suspect. I know. So you understand that Sam is all I’ve got.”

Dean grabbed my shoulder and sighed. “Yeah, Dean. Black sheep of the family. Handsome though.”

“Uh-huh. Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, actually, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway.”

“Uh-huh. The county traffic cam?”

“Right, yeah. I’m thinking that the camera picked up whatever took him. Or, whoever.” Dean corrected himself.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county department, but… let’s do this the right way.” She stood and grabbed a clipboard, handing it back to me. “Olive, why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight, over there?” She pointed to a seat in the corner.

I looked up at Dean, distressed. I let out a wheeze, panic rising again. Dean tucked my hair behind my ear and nodded toward the bench, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Officer, look, uh…” Dean looked over at me, then back at the deputy. “They’re family. I kinda look out for the kid. You’ve gotta let me come with you.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” She shook her head.

Dean squared his shoulders. He was determined now. “Tell me something. Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of them come back?”

She looked away, saddened.

“Sam and Olive are my responsibility. Sam’s coming back. I’m bringing him back. For that kid over there.” He pointed to me. “Because Sam’s all she’s got, and I’ll be damned if I do a piss poor job of bringing her brother back to her.”

I looked up from the clipboard to Dean with a frown on my face. He looked at me and forced a smile.

We’ll find him. I promise.

***

“Greg, Olive.”

I got up, turning around to see Kathleen coming out of the police building with a folder in her hand. “I think we’ve got something.”

I held my hand out, and she let me take the folder. I tore through it and splayed the papers out. Dean and I looked over them.

“These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds, as part of the Amber Alert program. These images were all taken around the time that Sam disappeared.”

Dean sighed. “This isn’t really what we’re looking for.”

“Wait no, D-” I cut myself short and elbowed Dean to get his attention instead. “Look at this.” I pointed to a rusty truck. “Right after you said Sam left. Look, it’s got plates.” I pointed, eyebrows furrowed.

“They look new. It’s probably stolen.”

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved.” Kathleen snorted.

A beat-up van drove by, the engine loud, a whine. I looked to Dean, eyes wide as I remembered what Evan had said.

“Hear that engine?” Dean asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Kinda a whining growl, right?” I asked.

“Sure.” She shrugged.

I looked back to Dean and blinked back tears. He chuckled, mumbling to himself with a shake of his head.

“I’ll be damned.”

***

“Okay, the next traffic camera is fifty miles from here, but the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…” Kathleen sighed, keeping her eyes on the road.

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere. I didn’t see any other roads here.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, a lot of these backwood properties have their own private roads.”

“Great.” I sighed, resting my cheek against the headrest of Dean’s seat.

Kathleen turned her attention to her computer before her face wrinkled up in concern.

“So, Gregory.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?” Dean turned to her.

“I ran your badge number. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and whatnot.”

Dean nodded, and she sniffled as she pulled over.

“And uh, they just got back to me. It says here your badge was stolen.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, confused.

“And there’s a picture of you.” She turned the computer to Dean, and it showed an African American man much older and much heavier than Dean.

“I lost some weight.” Dean chuckled. “And I uh, got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

“Okay, would you step out of the car, please? This girl is a minor, but you-”

“Look, look, look.” I cut her off, and Dean looked at me over his shoulder, a sign to stop talking.

“If you wanna arrest me, that’s fine. I’ll cooperate, I swear. But first, please. Let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who you are! Or if this Sam person is actually missing.”

“He is! He’s my brother, and he’s missing! Please.” My nose burned as I put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this.” Dean stared at her and reached up to take my hand.

“Identity theft? You’re impersonating an officer!”

“Look, here’s the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid that if we don’t find him, and fast.” Dean’s voice broke. “Please.”

“He’s our family.” I blinked back tears.

“I’m sorry. You’ve given me no choice. I have to take you in.” She sighed and glanced at her visor.

A picture of her and another man, her age, smiling. She sighed again.

“After we find Sam Winchester.”

I let out a breath of relief and let my head drop against Dean’s shoulder. He squeezed my hand with a sigh, taking a deep breath.

***

“Hey, uh…” Dean trailed off, looking between me and Kathleen.

“Look. We don’t mean to press our luck.” I got the words out for him.

“Your luck is so pressed.” She spoke before taking a sip from her coffee.

“Right.” Dean sighed.

“Why are you helping us out anyways? Why don’t you just… lock him up and call CPS for me?” I asked.

A pained look formed on Kathleen’s face and her shoulders dropped. “My brother, Riley… he disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but… nothing. I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone, and for them to-” she shook her head. “Come on. Let’s just keep at it.”

Dean looked down at me. He was worried, a bit freaked out that he still had another sibling to lose. Scared of what was going to happen after. Frantic to find Sam. I met his eyes with a sigh. I held a hand out for him, and he took it with a sad smile.

“It’s gonna be okay.” I whispered. “Promise.”

***

“Wait, wait, wait!” Dean called, pointing. “Pull over there. Pull over.”

Kathleen pulled the car onto the side of the road, and Dean and I barreled out, into the edge of the forest.

“This is the first turn I’ve seen so far.”

“You two stay here, I’ll check it out.” Kathleen ordered as she came up behind us.

“No fucking way.” Dean scoffed.

“Hey.” Kathleen turned, hands on her hips. “You’re civilians. A kid. And a felon too, I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You are not going without me.”

Kathleen looked over to me and I shrugged with a sigh. “Michael here is a bit of a big, chest-puffed-out protector.”

Michael. Technically not Dean’s real name, but close enough. It would get his attention in a pinch, and it slipped past my lips way easier than a fake name would.

“Alright.” She shook her head. “You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it? And Olive stays in the car.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Promise.”

“Wh-”

Dean shushed me, a hand to my shoulder, pushing me back behind him.

“Shake on it.” Kathleen held her hand out to him, and when Dean took it, Kathleen locked a pair of cuffs on his wrist.

“Oh, come on.”

“Wait, wait, Kathleen, please.” I went for her shoulder as she cuffed Dean to the car.

“Sorry, kid.” She grabbed me by the wrist and slammed a cuff onto me, linking me to my brother.

I tugged, and they cut into my skin like it was nothing. I cursed under my breath.

“This is ridiculous! Kathleen, I really think you’ll need our help.”

“I’ll manage. Thank you.” She smiled as she walked away.

“What the fuck do we do now?” I asked, tugging at our wrists.

My skin stung, and a stripe of blood fell down my hand. Dean tugged back.

“Stop it, you’re bleeding already.”

“Fucking hell.” I hissed, frustrated.

“Okay. Okay, we gotta start carrying paper clips. Or bobby pins!” He turned to me. “You’re a girl, do you have any bobby pins on you?”

I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “No, Dean. I’m a Winchester. I do not have bobby pins on me. Sammy might though.” I sighed, dread edging up in my stomach. “Sammy.”

“Okay. Okay, the antenna.” Dean nodded to my end of the car. “Can you reach to unscrew it?”

He was calm, cool, and collected.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can try.” I nodded. “Move with me.”

He shuffled over, stuck to my side. I took two steps, letting my arm pull as I went for the antenna. I didn’t reach.

“Fuck.”

An engine roared. A whining growl.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I repeated, stretching again.

“Come on, Ol. You can get it. Come on.”

I stretched my fingers, knuckles burning.

The engine got closer, and I mumbled another curse as Dean began to get antsy, inching as far as he could so I would be able to get further.

Panic set in, and things went sideways.

Scared. Worried. Angry. Hungry for something, but not blood.

Go.

I took a breath and let my eyes flutter closed. Dean said something, but I didn’t hear him.

Safety. You have to. Go.

Dean again, but nothing but a murmur against the thumping of blood in my ears.

My skin began to burn. My jaw ached. Head burning, wrist bleeding. Teeth against teeth, teeth tearing at metal.

Head aching, throbbing. Dean saying something.

“Hey. Hey, Beautiful. Hey.” Dean called.

I wasn’t cuffed anymore. I blinked, back in reality.

“Baby?”

I blinked, harder this time. The engine screamed.

“Shit!”

I busted ass reaching for the antenna. I unscrewed it and ran to Dean, forcing the cuffs off.

“Ollie?”

I forced back a yawn.

Dean is safe. You can rest now.

No.

“Olive.” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Beanie?”

“We gotta go.” I mumbled, feeling my words slur together.

Rest.

No.

“Olive. Okay, okay. Come on.” He grabbed me by the waist and squeezed. “Jump.”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“Up.” He pleaded. “Please.”

The engine, again, closer than before.

“De?” I mumbled, eyelids growing heavy.

Rest.

“No.” I hissed, and Dean grabbed me by the hips this time, yanking me up and over his shoulder.

I was left hanging, tired and numb.

Rest.

“N-”

“It’s okay, baby. Go to sleep. I’ve got you.” He whispered.

Rest.

Okay.

***

“Sweetheart, wake up.”

“Huh?” I blinked, the light burning.

“We gotta go get Sammy.”

I blinked again, this time forcing my eyes open. Dean was kneeling above me, one hand on my shoulder and the other on my cheek.

“Come on.”

I groaned as pushed myself to sit up. He grabbed me by the arms and helped me to my feet, catching me as I stumbled.

“Alright. Let’s go. I think he’s in there.” He nodded to a barn in front of us.

I groaned. “Creepy barn. Bad vibes.” I flicked a knife out of my boot, handing it to him.

“Stay behind me.” Dean whispered as he pushed the door open, knife up, level with his chest.

The light flooded in, and there was Sammy, in a cage. Hair matted, face dirty, eyes wide.

“Sammy?” I called, seeing his eyes light up. “Sammy! Bubs!” I ran to the cage, sticking my hands in between the bars.

He reached back, letting his face drop into my hands. “Hey, bug.” He smiled.

“You hurt?” Dean came up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No.”

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” Dean let out a huff.

“How did you two get out of the cuffs?”

Dean turned at the sound of Kathleen’s voice, but I stayed focused on Sammy. He looked me over, eyes widening in concern.

“Cookie, what did you do?” He asked, grabbing the broken cuff and pulling my wrist up.

I sighed. “Uh… we got cuffed.”

He shook his head at me. “Ollie…” He trailed off. “Lemme see your teeth.” He moved to push my lip up. “How did you not chip them?”

I shrugged as he cupped my cheek. “Don’t remember.”

“Well, these locks look like they’re gonna be a bitch.”

“Yeah, there’s some kind of automatic control right there.” Sam stroked my cheek before taking his hand away and pointing to a panel on the wall.

“Have you seen it? What is it?” I asked.

“Yeah. They’re just people.”

“And they… jumped you?” I asked, blinking.

“Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo.” Dean scoffed as he began to try different buttons on the panel. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

I grabbed at Sam again, checking him over. He said he wasn’t hurt, but he had gone without a sound, and I found it hard to believe any normal person could move a six-two moose without hurting him.

“Well, that’s the point.” I sighed. “You know, with our… usual playmates… there’s rules. Patterns.”

“These people are just crazy.” Dean scowled, hitting the buttons once more.

“See anything else out there?” Sam asked me.

I shrugged. “I was out.”

“He, uh, has a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over.”

“So when they take someone, they take the car too?” I asked.

“Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” Kathleen stood in her cage, hands gripping the bars.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I did.” Dean nodded, and Kathleen’s face dropped.

“Your brother’s?” I turned.

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.” The three of us spoke at the same time.

“Let’s get you guys out of here, then Sam and I can blast these bastards while Olive and Kathleen scram.” Dean sucked in air through his teeth. “Alright, this thing takes a key. Key?”

“Dunno.” Sam sighed.

“Alright. We better go find it.” Dean grabbed me by the shoulder, and I shook him off.

“I wanna stay with Sams.”

He sighed, and he and Sam shared a look.

“I can fend for myself.” I looked at Dean with puppy eyes, and he sighed again.

“It’s okay.” Sam nodded at him. “It’s okay. Go.”

Dean sighed, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of my head.

“Be safe.” He whispered against my hair.

I nodded. “Always. Be careful. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Close to your cousin, huh?” Kathleen asked as I settled in front of Sam’s cage, my back to him and his hand in mine.

“He raised her.”

“He isn’t just any old felon, isn’t he?” She asked.

I began to squirm.

“I’m not gonna turn him in. You can tell me the truth.”

I looked at Sam over my shoulder, and he shook his head.

“Is he Dean Winchester? Your brother, the murder suspect?”

There were footsteps outside the door, and Sam’s hand went to my back, pushing me up. I scrambled to hide in the shadows as the door swung open and a hick walked in with a gun in his hand.

Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, getting to his feet as the man unlocked his cage.

Sam.

Sam stumbled backward as the man pulled the door open.

Sam.

I began to shake. My blood was boiling.

Sam.

My jaw cracked, and blood spilled from my mouth, down my front.

Sam!

The gun went up, and a growl tore through my throat. The man turned to me, and I closed my eyes as I let the rage take over.

A gunshot. Another growl, teeth and blood, a second gunshot, and screaming.

***

“Ollie!”

“Olive, come on.”

“Ollie, please. Please, baby girl.”

I forced my eyes open. Someone was grabbing my face, and someone else had me in their hold.

“Olive. Hey! Hey.”

“Hi, honey.”

“What happened?” I mumbled, realizing that Dean’s hand was on my forehead as I sat up.

“You… blacked out.” Sam whispered.

“Did I…” I trailed off, seeing blood spilled down my front and under my nails.

“You did what you had to.” Dean tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Where’s Kathleen?”

“Waiting at the car.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Sam sighed from behind me, and Dean stroked my face again.

“It’s okay.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

They spoke at the same time, and my immediate reaction was to crawl out of Sam’s lap and bury myself into Dean’s open arms. His chin rested on my head and he sighed.

“Let’s go home.”

***

“I think the car’s at the police station.” Dean told Sam as we stood by Kathleen’s side.

She was on her walkie, talking to someone. She needed backup, she needed to clear this family of freaks out.

“So…” She turned to us. “State police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re all long gone by then.”

“Thanks. Hey listen, I don’t mean to-”

“No.” I grabbed Dean by the hand to cut him off.

“Start walking.” Kathleen smiled at me. “Duck if you see a squad car.”

“Sounds good to me. Uh, thank you.” Sam smiled at her.

“Listen, uh… we’re…” I looked at Dean and then back at her with a sigh. “We’re sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you.” She began to tear up. “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth, but… it isn’t really.” She shook her head as she cleared her throat. “Anyways. You guys should get going.”

***

“Never do that again.” Dean spoke.

“Do what?” Sam asked, looking up from the ground at him.

“Go missing like that.”

“Ah, you were worried about me.” Sam smiled.

Dean snorted. “All I’m saying is, you vanish like that again, I’m not looking for you.”

Sam giggled. “Sure, you won’t.”

“He won’t. But I will. A hundred percent, every single time.” I wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, and he threw his over my shoulders.

“So, Dean. Care to tell Olive how you got sidelined by a thirteen year old girl?”

“Oh, shove it.” Dean scowled.

“Just saying… getting rusty there, kiddo.” Sam winked.

“Shut up.” Dean pushed through a chuckle.

***

“Olive…” Sam trails off.

He’s sitting in a chair by the edge of the bed. Olive squirms. She’s freshly showered, but she’s so nervous that her skin is boiling and she’s hot, so hot. She’s sitting with her big brother, her savior. They’re on the bed, criss-cross and facing Sam.

Jinx is curled up at the foot of the bed. She’s happy that her family is home.

Sam wants to talk about this. He needs to talk about it. His sister isn’t normal.

Dean thinks there’s nothing to talk about. Olive didn’t choose her identity, and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone shame her for it.

Olive is horrified.

Her brother doesn’t love her anymore. How could he? She’s a monster.

Jinx can sense it. She whimpers, looking up at Sam.

“I’m sorry.” Olive whispers, voice low.

Dean wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.”

“I killed someone.”

“Olive.” Sam crouches to be eye-level with her. “You did what you had to do.”

Olive’s eyes jump up. Did Sam just… tell her it was justified?

“He’s right, baby.” Dean squeezes her, grabbing her hand in his.

“But I… I’m a monster.” She’s shaking.

“No.” Dean whispers, and Sam sighs.

“Dean, she is. She’s something.”

“She is not a monster.” Dean all but growls at his younger brother.

His baby sister may be a mix of something inhuman with a Winchester, but she is not a monster. He didn’t raise a monster. His little girl is just that. A girl.

“He’s right, Deano.” Olive looks up, stuck to her brother.

Dean shakes his head. “Okami.”

Olive recoils, and Sam’s world begins to spin. He gets up so fast that his chair goes flying to the ground. Olive flinches as she sits on the other bed. Far away from her brothers, far away from anyone she could hurt.

Jinx follows with a whimper, and Olive lets the small pup crawl into her lap. Olive begins to cry, and Jinx mimics the sound.

Sam tears through his father's journal.

Okami.

Monsters originating in Japan. They hunt and feed on humans. They develop a type.

Olive’s stomach heaves.

She knows her type.

Anything that threatens her family.

Sam looks at his sister.

She’s a kid. How could she be this? This horrible, flesh-eating monster?

Dean's eyes shut. He pinches the bridge of his nose. His baby, the one he vowed to protect, the one he raised from birth. His kid.

“She’s only a third.”

“What?” Sam turns, confused.

“Does that mean… you guys aren’t really my brothers?” Olive looks up from her lap, eyes wide.

“No. No, that’s not what it means.” Dean gets up, moving to sit in front of her.

She shuffles backwards, and Dean reaches his hands out. Jinx lets out a high pitched whine.

“You won’t hurt me.” He places a hand on her knee. “I promise.”

She shakes her head. She always knew something was wrong with her. But an Okami? She briefly wishes she had never been born.

“How?” Sam inches closer, the journal tossed aside.

He knows his sister, can see the fear in her eyes and the terror in her posture. That’s his kid sister. She’s his flesh and blood. In that moment, he makes his choice. He’ll do what he needs to in order to protect her, whether she’s human or not.

“Your mother.” Dean starts, then clears his throat. “Your mom, she was half Okami. She had fangs, too.” He looks at his baby, sees the fear behind her face. “She didn’t hurt anyone. She never did. Your mom was a good woman.”

“Then why did she give me up?” Olive’s voice is weak.

She loves her brothers, but she has wondered what life would be like with her mother in the picture.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know, baby girl. I don’t know why she gave you up.”

“Why am I a monster?” Olive breaks into a sob, hands going into her hair.

Sam sits next to her, grabs her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. She curls up, sobs into his chest. Jinx whimpers, scratching at Sam’s side.

“You aren’t a monster, kiddo.” Sam whispers into her hair. “You’re a Winchester.”

Dean leans against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with his little brother.

“It’s why when we’re in danger, it takes over.” Dean reaches for her hand.

She hesitates before taking it. “Is that why I tried to kill Sue Ann?”

He nods. “Yes. It’s why when you’re angry, you’re so invincible. Why when you’re in fight-or-flight, not much can hurt you. It’s why you heal so much faster than us.”

Her lip quivers, and her brothers crowd her.

“You’ll learn to control it. We can help you.” Dean squeezes her hand.

“Bug. Everything’s gonna be okay. We love you.”

She looks up at Sam. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing to say sorry for. I love you.”

She buries her head into him. “I love you too.”

She squeezes Dean’s hand, and the eldest Winchester feels a wave of relief wash over him. He squeezes back.

“I love you guys.” Olive whispers.

Dean and Sam share a look. This is their baby sister. They have to protect her, no matter the cost. Dean presses a kiss to her hand.

“We love you too.”

“Thank you.”

Sam and Dean share a look.

“For what, bug?”

She looks up again, this time right at Dean. Brown bores into green, and tears blur his vision. This is his kid. And she’s scared of herself. He can’t stand it.

“For always protecting me.”

Dean chuckles, a single tear sliding down the curve of his nose. He winks at her.

“Wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Previous Ep: Nightmare (1.14)

Previous fic: Sammy the Birthday Moose

Next Ep: Shadow (1.16)

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allthegodstars · 6 years ago

Text

Sapphire Flames Snippets

Little Snippet:

The Harris County Institute of Forensic Sciences occupied a nine-story building on Old Spanish Trail. Its blocky lines, rectangular windows, and orange brick practically screamed that it housed some sort of government agency.

I maneuvered our Honda Element into the parking lot. It used to be our surveillance vehicle, but last year Grandma Frida decided to rebuild it from wheels up. Now the Element sported a new engine, a reinforced suspension, and custom dampers for enhanced shock absorption. The windows were bulletproof, and the new glass had both the safety glazing and a polycarbonate layer on the inside, so if someone did shoot at us, the windows would crack but hold together. And most importantly, the Element was now equipped with B5 level armor, which meant it would stop most handguns and shotgun blasts. It could have been armored enough to withstand a sniper shot; however, Grandma Frida reasoned that our best chance of survival was getting away fast, and armor was heavy, so she stopped at B5 and added a reinforced floor and run-flat tires.

Unfortunately, even Grandma Frida had her limits, and steering was a bit sluggish. I was used to it by now and I aimed for a parking spot in the middle row.

“So, what’s with you and Alessandro Sagredo?” Runa asked.

The steering was sluggish, but the brakes worked perfectly. I jerked forward, and my seat belt slammed me back.

“Nothing.”

“Aha.” Runa pulled on her own seat belt. “That’s why we screeched to a stop halfway into the parking space?”

“My foot slipped.” I gently eased forward and brought the Element to a smooth stop.

Last night, after Bern carried Rutger into the guest bedroom and Runa settled in on inflatable mattress next to him, I went back to my office, rescued Alessandro’s picture from my desk drawer, and brought it upstairs to my bedroom. He looked so carefree, caught in a magic moment somewhere sunny and warm. When I looked at the picture, a disquieting, unpleasant feeling squeezed my chest, not pain exactly, but a kind of discomfort. I stood in my bedroom and wished with everything I had that I was there, in the sun, with a backdrop of green mountains and Alessandro and I were going somewhere. Together.

It was stupid, and childish, and it would never be. I hid it all inside, put the picture on my nightstand, and went to bed.

“So, you’re just going to go with ‘nothing?’” Runa asked.

“That’s right.”

“Your sister said you met during your trials.”

Sistercide was not a word, but it would be after today. “Yes.”

“Yes what? Is there a story behind that?”

No. He didn’t follow me on Instagram, and he didn’t take my breath away during the trials. And he definitely didn’t show up under my window after trying to convince me to go for a drive.

“We met during the trials, and my sisters haven’t stopped trolling me about it for the last three years. There is absolutely nothing between me and Alessandro Sagredo.”

Strictly speaking, there was 5,561 miles between our warehouse and the Sagredo estate near Venice, Italy. A commercial flight with one stop could get me to Venice in thirteen hours.

“Your cheeks are turning pink,” Runa said. “Are you imagining there being nothing between you and Alessandro?”

***

On Rants, Well Deserved Nature Of:

As I’ve pointed out four times now, this entire incident has been recorded by security cameras. The footage will show that Ms. Etterson and I were attacked without provocation and we defended ourselves as is our right under Article 3 paragraph 1 through 4 of the House Protection Act.”

“Is that so?” Sgt. Munoz’s eyebrows crept up a quarter of an inch.

“You have no cause to detain either me or Runa Etterson. We have cooperated, and we have given our statements.”

“Ms. Baylor.” He frowned. “You wouldn’t happen to have an older sister, would you?”

That was just too much. “When Nevada encountered you, she was under a great deal of stress trying to keep us alive and save Houston. She didn’t have a chance to note that every time there was an incident requiring a law enforcement response, you mysteriously appeared on the scene. But I did.”

He watched me, impassive. I kept going.

“You are attached to the House Response Unit of Houston PD, tasked specifically with handling incidents involving Houses. Every member of this unit is assigned a number of families, in which he becomes expert. So, you know perfectly well that I have an older sister and that she is currently out of the country. You know the names of every person in our family, their birth dates, and their magic. You probably know the exact nature of my powers, despite the fact that my records are sealed. You are here because my last name popped up in your system. So please don’t insult my intelligence.”

***

When English Language Is Just Not Enough:

Warning: hilariously odd bad language ahead. Poor Catalina.

Bug served as Rogan’s surveillance specialist. Magically altered, he processed visual information at an astonishing rate. If anybody could find [Redacted], Bug could. He was also fanatically loyal to Rogan.

The moment we involved Bug, Rogan would know every detail of what we asked and why. Then Nevada would know, and, considering the usual colorful way Bug made his reports, there was a strong possibility that she would freak out. Bug found the vast array of curses available to an average English speaker completely inadequate and used every opportunity to add his own, which often amounted to a random collection of expletives that left you befuddled. I could just imagine the way that report would go.

“Hey, so you’ll never believe this dick fart thing: they want me to find [Redacted]. Isn’t that just pork balls? The gnome molester apparently stabbed somebody. Whore dimwit shit brain dungarees!”

***

A Simple Menu:

Since it was my turn to cook breakfast anyway, I headed to the kitchen. Cooking was basically my and Mom’s job. When Nevada lived with us, she was too busy keeping us fed and clothed. Bern and Leon usually made meat, preferably, steak, and they served it charred on top and raw in the middle. Grandma Frida came from the generation when things weren’t cooked unless they were slightly burned, and my younger sister, who was actually a decent cook, when she had to be, couldn’t be trusted to stay in the kitchen for the duration of the cooking process. She’d start something and then end up outside texting to her friends or in the media room laughing at some show, while we raced to save the meal.

I decided on a simple menu. I put two packs of bacon into two baking pans and popped them in the oven, mixed the batter for the blueberry pancakes, and called Nevada while chopping mushrooms for the egg, mushroom, and cheese scramble.

***

Just You Wait:

My cell rang. An unlisted number. Oh good. Ten to one, somebody wanted to sell me super-special medical insurance or inform me that the IRS was about to arrest me unless I dropped everything and bought an armful of gift cards at Wal-Mart.

I answered it. “What is it?”

“You’re tracking me,” Alessandro said.

Runa’s eyes went big.

“I am not tracking you,” I told him. Technically, it wasn’t even a lie.

“You’re having me tracked. I understand that I’m irresistible. It’s a cross I bear. But do try to have some self-control, Catalina. I’m embarrassed for you.”

He… Argh. “As I recall, I never had a problem resisting you.”

“I thought we agreed that you would drop this.”

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Catalina, listen to me. This is serious, the people involved are dangerous, and your well-being is important to me.”

Since when? “Why don’t you tell me more about it? Maybe if I fully understand the danger, I’ll stay out of it.”

“No, you won’t. You have no sense.”

“I have all kinds of sense.”

“This is your last warning, Catalina.”

“Or what?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”

He hung up.

“I have all kinds of sense?” Runa quoted.

“I was too mad to think of a snappy comeback.”

I glared at the phone. Insufferable ass. When I got my hands on him, I would pry his mind open like a tin can. And then I would make him do a little dance, record it, and play it for him on a loop after I drained my magic off. Irresistible. I’ll show you irresistible. Just you wait.

***

A Pithivier:

Steps sounded behind me. I turned. Runa caught up with us. “Matilda said you would be out here. That child is odd.”

More like unsettling, until you got to know her. “She’s an animal mage. They are unique. Did something bad happen?”

“You mean in addition to everything else? No.”

We both watched Shadow sniffing at cracks in the asphalt.

“Whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Lemon roasted chicken with rosemary baked potatoes, chive butter, kale and brussels sprout salad with tahini maple dressing, and an apple pithivier.”

Runa gave me a long look.

“I cook when I’m stressed out. It sounds more complicated than it is. In reality, it’s mostly season things, dump them in a baking pan, and stick them in the oven.”

“What’s a P.T.V.A.?”

“It’s a French pie-cake made with puff pastry. The traditional version uses rum and almonds, but nobody likes rum, so I make mine with apples.”

***

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