#but it doesn't taste too bad if i toast it and cover it in other things lol

[olibavee]

drew (w a mouse) my first experience trying gluten free bread and the end slice was smaller than the palm of my hand. hurray for celiac disease

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 10]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

When Yunho entered the restaurant the next day, he heard you already giving instructions and tasks to the rest of the crew. He walked in with the box of tools he had bought the day before. He was excited to show all of you what he bought, especially you.

"Surprise!" He beamed as he walked in. All 4 of you stopped, turning your head to see the tall male walking in, his face covered by the boxes he was carrying.

"Yunho hyung, what's this?" Jongho asked, helping to take the box from Yunho and putting it on the counter.

"I bought some stuff for the kitchen!" He explained, opening it.

"The guy at the store told me these are important essentials that every kitchen needs. Tomorrow, the electrical equipment is coming." He took the different things out and set them on the table.

"Oh yes, we needed these." Seonghwa said as he looked through all the things Yunho bought.

"Did you have that much fun shopping?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho blushed slightly, did he seem too excited?

"I didn't really know what to get. And I felt bad for waiting so long to properly equip the kitchen with what you need. If you need anything else, let me know!" Yunho said. Wooyoung and Seonghwa took all the things to be washed and sanitised for you all to use immediately. You went back to mixing your fruit mixture.

"(y/n), the things I go are useful right?" Yunho came to stand next to you. Seonghwa watched on in curiosity. If Yunho had a tail, it would be wagging in anticipation now.

"Yeah. It's tools that we'll definitely use." You replied. Yunho perked up and grinned widely, happy by your words.

"What are you making?" He asked.

"Jam tartlets. The jam is blueberry and thyme." You said, grabbing a disposable spoon and scooping up a little for Yunho to taste. He ate the little bit of jam.

"That's nice! I'm guessing that herb flavour is the thyme?" He said. You hummed and went to take the tray with the blind baked tartlet shells. You gave Yunho two tablespoons.

"Two spoons per tart shell." You instructed.

"O-Oh! Okay!" He beamed, going over to wash his hands before stepping back to help you. He was glad that you just had him do tasks without him having to offer anymore, it was like you were used to him being around.

"So what other stuff are we putting out this morning?" Yunho asked as he focussed on filling the tart shells with equal amounts of jam. You turned to the others in the kitchen.

"I'm making a devil's food cake." Wooyoung raised his hand.

"I'm making a quiche with salmon and leeks. We made matcha financiers, they're cooling off." Seonghwa continued.

"I'm making a plum blechkuchen (German sheet cake)." Jongho said.

"And today's cupcake/ muffin is pandan chiffon with a gula melaka (coconut sugar) center." You finished. Although Yunho has not heard of half of those things, he was still excited to see what they were.

"They sound tasty for sure." Yunho smiled. He finished filling all the tartlet shells and you bent down to check that they were all level.

"Good job." You nodded in approval, putting them close to the serving window.

"Thank you!" Yunho smiled. After that, the other 4 came in and they all go ready for the store opening. As usual, Yunho made the entire kitchen crew drinks to have while they finished up their baking. You took a 5 minute break, sipping your coffee as you brainstormed on dinner ideas for tonight.

"So we're doing ricotta stuffed french toast right? With smoked maple butter and sour cherry sauce." You asked the kitchen. The 3 boys nodded their heads.

"Ribs? We can do a gochujang, barbecue type sauce. We'll leave the ribs in brine before we leave." You suggested.

"Ooh, we got good fish this morning. What if we used it to make a crudo? Use up the yuzu fruits to make the dressing." Jongho said.

"Good idea." You nodded, writing that down.

"What about poached chicken? We can poach it in samgyetang herbs. Use the stock to make rice after that. Chicken and rice dish." Seonghwa suggested.

"Yes, some might appreciate a lighter dish." Wooyoung chimed in. You noted all that down.

"Breakfast has just begun and you're already discussing dinner?" San laughed as he came in while you were all still discussing the dishes.

"We have to be prepared, some dishes need as much time as possible. Like we've decided to do ribs tonight so that means we need to marinate them before we leave later. Give it as much time to tenderise the meat and season it." You said.

"Giving more time to marinate helps tenderise it?" San tilted his head in surprise.

"With rib meat, there's not a lot of fat and flavour. So you marinate it, it firstly helps to soften the meat with the acid content. And it gives time for the flavours and salt to penetrate." Wooyoung explained.

"Oh wow. I never knew that." San said.

"So what is good to use to marinate? From what Wooyoung said, so something salty and acidic?"

"Yeah. But there are other things you can use. Like we'll use pineapple, it has an enzyme called bromelain that tenderises meat. Salt is easy things with soy sauce." Jongho informed.

"We'll go with those flavours since we want to use a gochujang based sauce when grilling. So asian tastes." You added.

"San, we need you! Stop chatting." Yeosang called.

"I'm not chatting! I'm learning." San growled in annoyance. He gave everyone a friendly smile and wave before leaving the kitchen to go help in the front. The 4 of you got back to work, finishing up on the baked treats so you could prepare for dinner tonight and leave to rest for the afternoon.

"Last batch done and cooling." Seonghwa said, putting the last cake by the window. When the treat or cake was done outside, those working the front would come and get the refill.

"I'm going for a breather." You said, going out for 5 minutes. The 3 didn't protest to that.

"Okay, let's clean up and start preparing what we need for dinner tonight." You instructed after coming back in.

"You prepare the stuff for tonight. We'll clean." Jongho came. Seonghwa nodded, bringing the used bowls to the sink to start washing them.

"Guess it's us on prep." Wooyoung bumped his hip against yours.

"Let's get all the meats out for trimming then." You said. Wooyoung helped you bring out all the packs of ribs, putting all the meats on the prep table. There was a lot of meat to get through.

"Rock, paper, scissors. Winner makes marinade, loser preps the meat?" Wooyoung wriggled his eyebrows at you.

"You're on." Seonghwa and Jongho ignored the two of you. But soon, Wooyoung was letting out curses, an indication of who emerged victorious in the game. You smiled happily, skipping to the pantry to collect what you needed for the marinade.

"I hate removing the membrane. It's so slippery." Wooyoung whined. But nonetheless, he took the pack of meat and grabbed his knife. He removed the membrane at the back, trimmed the excess fat cap off.

"Did you bring your boning knife?" Wooyoung asked. You nodded over to your knife wrap.

"I'm going to need it for frenching (cleaning the excess meat, fat and sinew off the bones for cleaner look)." He said.

"Knock yourself out." You giggled, making Wooyoung roll his eyes, continuing to grumble. You made a big batch of marinade, mixing all the ingredients in together.

"Thank you for your hard work this morning." Yunho came in for a short breather.

"How's the crowd?" You asked.

"It's good, actually. We're selling things at a steady pace. I think we're starting to have repeating customers too, I recognise some faces." Yunho smiled blissfully.

"What are you doing?" Yunho came over, full of curiosity.

"I'm making a marinade for the pork ribs. So Woo is preparing the ribs and we'll let them soak for as long as we can before we grill them for dinner. Get as much flavour in them as possible. Then we brush on a gochujang sort of barbecue sauce at the end. We'll serve it with white kimchi and roast potatoes." You informed.

"As someone who loves meat, that sound really good. White kimchi sounds like it will go together really well." Yunho said, nearly drooling as he imagined the dish.

"We'll see if the customers like more Western based dishes." You shrugged and he nodded in agreement.

"What's in the marinade?"

"Soy sauce, pineapple juice, pear juice, onions, sesame oil, peppercorns, salt and garlic. We're going for something similar to a bulgogi or galbi marinade." You explained to him.

"Done." Wooyoung groaned, throwing his head back tiredly. You chuckled and put the ribs into the tubs.

"I'll pour the marinades in." You used a measuring cup to divide the marinade into the tubs.

"Let me help with that." Yunho took one of the tubs after Wooyoung closed the lids, bringing it into the walk in to leave it there to marinate. Jongho helped bring the other tubs in too. After that, you put all your aprons in your little cubbies.

"See you later!" Yunho waved with smile. You all waved back, bowing your heads as you walked to Wooyoung's car to head home to rest for the next few hours.

"They just left?" Mingi poked his head in. Yunho nodded, taking his mug to drink his coffee.

"Grab me some chocolate sauce while you're there? Everyone seems to be craving mochas today." He asked.

"Sure. Anything else you need?" Yunho raised an eyebrow. Mingi shook his head and Yunho went to grab what the baristas needed for the front.

"You're very good looking." Some girls giggled as Yunho keyed in their order and received their money.

"Thank you. You can head to the end for your order pick up." Yunho smiled kindly, gesturing to the end of the counter. Mingi and Hongjoong watched on, both facepalming at how Yunho replied so normally. He was too kind to anyone that he met, not one to turn others away or reject their flirting.

Or maybe he just never noticed it when others flirted with him. Girls would usually get frustrated that Yunho wouldn't flirt back, just respond with a kind smile and a wave.

"What are we going to do with you?" Mingi clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"What?" Yunho asked, confused by his best friend's words.

"You're too friendly, Yunho ah." Hongjoong chuckled, patting the taller on the shoulder before heading to the back kitchen. Yunho still didn't understand what his friends were saying.

"Can I have your Instagram?" One of the girls giggled as they waited for their drink that San was making.

"Sorry, girls. Company policy, we can't give that info out." Mingi came to save Yunho, slinging an arm around his shoulder. The girls either pouted or frowned at Mingi's words, taking their drinks from San and leaving the cafe. Mingi chuckled and let out a soft sigh.

"What company policy are you talking about? I'm the owner and I didn't even know we had any policy." Yunho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Trust me, buddy. You'll thank me later." Mingi patted Yunho's shoulders and walked back to the barista area to help San.

Instead of going home to rest, you went to the shops with Jongho to pick up some extra things that you might need for dinenr tonight like ginseng chicken soup herbs and worcesteshire sauce.

"Oh wow, key limes." Jongho said, picking one up to inspect. You looked over in interest.

"What a rarity... And they're not expensive. Shall we make key lime pie?" You turned to meet his eyes. Jongho nodded.

"Key lime syrup for drinks." His eyes sparkled excitedly. The both of you bought a few punnets, putting it into the trolley and continuing on your way.

"Hwa said he needed more stock bags." You grabbed two packets off the shelf. After getting what you needed, you and Jongho went to get a coffee at the coffee stand near the markets then drove to your home. You both decided to spend the remaining time napping at your house rather than splitting up.

When Jongho came to wake you up, you were not pleased to be woken up. All the tiredness of your broken sleep schedule was hitting you all at once, which was not ideal.

"Don't be grumpy." Jongho chuckled as he drove. You hid further into your hoodie.

"Hwa hyung's gonna send you home and won't let you do dinner service, you know?" Jongho reminded. You pouted, you didn't want to be sent home.

"Here." Jongho held out the coffee he poured into a travel mug for you.

"Thanks." You mumbled and took the tumbler to take a sip. When Jongho pulled up to park, you let out a childish whine.

"Come on." Jongho got out and went to open the passenger door for you. You grumbled as you stepped out, you were really just so tired and sleep deprived that you didn't want to be working.

You and Jongho were first to arrived. You went to get your apron, tying it around your waist and tucking two tea towels into your apron string. Then you put your precision tongs and tasting spoon into the pockets in front.

"Let's start." You said to Jongho. He nodded and stood with you, prepping what you needed to start.

"We should get the poaching liquid for the chicken going first. I want as much of the herbal flavour to get in because we need that liquid for the rice later." You informed.

"Okay, I'll prepare the herbs first?" He asked.

"No, help me butcher the chickens. I want to serve them in halves." You said. Jongho nodded and went to prepare his station.

"I'll prep the herbs." You went to get the samgyetang herbs that you bought earlier, brushing off any debris that you saw, throwing it into the pot with some stock.

"Hey." Seonghwa and Wooyoung came in. You were focused at your own counter. Wooyoung pointed at your back, signalling to Jongho.

Jongho put his hands together, tucking it under his ear to show that you were sleeping before this. Wooyoung and Seonghwa nodded their heads, understanding him. They went to put their things in their cubbies and got their aprons. Wooyoung didn't dare approach you yet but Seonghwa was daring enough.

"Hey, darling." Seonghwa came up to you.

"Park, I'm holding a knife. If you're going to ask me to go home now and sleep, I'm not responsible for what I do with said knife." You said, continuing to cut the garlic.

"Carry on." He patted your head and backed away. The only time you called him 'Park' was when you were grumpy.

"I'll get started on the ribs." Wooyoung raised his hand, going into the walk in.

"Hwa, start on the appetisers. Jong, when you're done, prep what we'll need for the rose carbonara. I'll do the desserts after I put the chickens in for poaching." You instructed.

"Okay." They all replied and got to doing their tasks.

When Yunho, Mingi, Hongjoong, Yeosang and San came in for the dinner shift, they too felt the coldness in the room. Yunho could practically see the rain cloud above your head. Wooyoung shook his head, using his hand to do a neck slice action.

"Go." Yunho whispered, ushering the other boys out to the front to get ready for dinner service.

"Don't worry, (y/n). I'll be at the pass tonight." They heard Wooyoung offer from the kitchen window. Tonight was supposed to be your turn at the window.

"We need an extra pair of hands. San." You poked your head out briefly. San raised his hand and jogged to the kitchen quickly.

Yunho pouted, he had hoped he was the first one you call to help in the kitchen. He could do just as well as San.

"Let's get the silverware out." Mingi said. Hongjoong brought his maitre d stand to the front, making sure his iPad with all the reservations was on and working.

"Work phone?" Hongjoong asked. Yunho took it from the charger behind the counter and handed it over. The shorter put it in his pocket.

"(y/n) a little sleep deprived now and like a little kid, she can get grumpy when she needs sleep. So just... steer clear. Don't try to send her home or anything, she already threatened Seonghwa. It's scary." Jongho advised to those that were outside, having come out to get a mug of juice from the bar fridge.

"I'm stepping out real quick to get something. If I'm not back in time, Hongjoong hyung, open for me?" Yunho said.

"Do you need something?" Yeosang asked.

"Kind of...? I'll be as fast as I can. Just manage it for the time being." Yunho said and ran out the front door of the restaurant, leaving his dumbfounded friends there.

When Yunho came back, he came through the back. He put what he needed in his cupboard before coming out of the small room.

"Woah." He almost crashed into you. You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there?" You asked, nodding over to the front of the restaurant. Yunho gulped, suddenly feeling like a child that was caught by his parent.

"I needed to get something so Hongjoong hyung opened up for me." Yunho said. You nodded and went into the get something front your bag. Yunho's eyes followed you until you stopped.

"Need something?" You stared back at him, questioningly.

"N-No! I'm going out." Yunho quickly bowed his head and ran away to support his friends with waiting tables. You slightly frowned in confusion but grabbed what you needed before going back to the kitchen as dinner service was starting.

Thankfully for you, dinner service went by quickly. The customers liked the menu and the food. When it was near closing, your kitchen crew took turns to prepare the dessert and to eat their dinner.

"Why don't you finish up dessert and go home? We'll clean up." Wooyoung offered.

"I'm fine." You rolled your eyes, flipping the french toast in the pan.

"Can I get a coffee, please? Two shots, on the rocks." You turned to Jongho. He nodded and ate another bite, exiting the kitchen to go out and make you a coffee.

"Service." You put yours and Wooyoung's plate at the window. Yeosang came over and took it to serve.

"Here you go." Jongho handed you the cup. You took a sip and exited the back door.

"Last few tables. Is (y/n) outside?" Yunho asked. Seonghwa nodded. Yunho went to the locker room and grabbed something, slipping out the back door. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho tried but couldn't get a glimpse at what Yunho was carrying. They shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

"(y/n)?" Yunho looked around. He saw you sitting on the curb, cup of coffee beside you as you pressed your cheek on your folded arms. Your eyes were closed as you snoozed.

"Did you need something?" You asked with your eyes closed, making Yunho jump in surprise.

"Ummm, I have something for you." Yunho said shyly. Your eyes fluttered open as you stared at him.

"Sit." You scooted, patting the space beside you. He gladly sat down. You took a sip of your coffee first, raising an eyebrow at Yunho, waiting for him to say something.

"Something to brighten your day... Or, at this time, I guess it's night. To give you energy." Yunho grinned, taking the paper bag.

"Which is?" You were not expecting him to take a sunflower bouquet out for you.

"Oh and this. I don't know how to make donuts so I figured buying one that I know is good will be better than me trying to make one on my own." Yunho said, holding out the box of 3 donuts. You stared at the two items.

"Sunflowers bring light and energy... I just thought... I don't know..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You melted a little, this was completely unexpected.

"Thank you, Yunho. I'm really fine, don't worry." You didn't know what came over you as you reached out to pat his head gratefully.

~

Series masterlist

[bookshelfdreams]

#Op I need u to know I thought this was about his post-coytal bedside manner when I read the first line#was fully expecting you to wax poetic about how Ed's mediocer attempt at making breakfast was actually a heartfelt attempt to make sure#he didn't feel like he was a One And Done type of thing#I was vibrating#and then it was s1 meta 💀 RIP LMAO (@zo1nkss, on this post)

No, absolutely, let's talk about it. Because this?

This is terrible. Comically bad. The worst anyone's ever done it, I'm sorry to say. The toast looks like it's covered in coal dust. The tea (? I hope it's tea, might as well be Ye Olde Cuba Libre) has clearly gone cold. Ed spooned the marmalade directly onto the tablet instead of just leaving it in the jar like a sane person, for fuck's sake!

Of course that's deliberate; they even make sure we know what the platonic ideal of a nice breakfast tablet looks like with the title card.

It's like an Expectation vs Reality meme. There's a flower, there's porcelain, there's even a plate! Ed, I know you've had breakfast before, why are you so bad at this?

Because, of course, this was doomed from the start.

Ed is panicking, because he knows falling into bed together right after everything that happened in 02x06 was a mistake, and he's desperately trying to salvage the situation.

Ed wanted to take things slow, because he wants stability. He wants to pursue happiness. He wants to build a beautiful life with someone he loves! Breakfast in bed every day!

Instead he to watch the love of his life be tortured in front of him, because of him, and then had to watch him intentionally kill a guy for the first time in his life - also because of him! This is the opposite of what he wanted, for himself or for Stede.

He wanted them both to be safe and happy, but instead they had an evening of horrible experiences and then had sex about it. It's all coming crashing down. Aside form the worst breakfast spread in known history, look how the scene is shot and coloured: The slightest green tint, just enough to turn the light harsh and cold, how far apart from each other they are. Tons of empty space in the frame. How they are backlit, so they are in the shadows, their faces barely discernible.

This isn't a happy Morning After. This is them standing at the ruins of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment, but the violence of piracy broke into it and destroyed it.

Ed knows he needs to leave it behind, once and for all. Throws out his Blackbeard kit to make his decision to abandon the pirate life irreversible. Tries to have a soft, domestic moment, shares the lovely story about Merstede coming to rescue him, in an attempt to salvage his dream of retirement with Stede.

But Stede? Oh, Stede is on an entirely different page. He just had his first real taste of the power violence can grant him. While the torture wasn't fun, in the end, he triumphed! Defended his love, defended his crew! And topped it all off with what was probably the first positive sexual experience in all his 40whatever years of life! He's patronizing and kinda bitchy about the whole spread, because he doesn't get what Ed is trying to tell him. All he sees is Ed being terrible at this domestic bullshit, but that's okay because he thinks he's terrible at it too!

They'll just sail the seas, terrorize the various empires and have adventures together, forever and ever! That's the dream, right? Right???

(Wait, what do you mean Last night was a mistake?)

[crmsnmth]

Bitter Coffee

The diner's coffee is dark and so bitter that it almost bites. The smell of burnt coffee grounds flow up in a steam warning. Don't drink this, it pleads. Go somewhere else. Somewhere better, but please don't drink this. I close my eyes and take a sip. It's hot, it's bitter, it's instant heartburn in a cup. Start the day the acid reflux way with a handful of Tums and a full shot on pink Pepto Bismuth. Sometimes consequences last a life time and you pay for mistakes forever. My stomach is proof of what drugs do to the insides. I am scar tissue and weak spots where the stomach acid is burning through the walls of my stomach. It will split, and it will hurt, but it will happen and when it does, I can only hope that I'm alone. The doctor's will say theirs nothing here to save, and I'll agree from astral projection. I'll sign a DNR the minute you put it in my face. If there's nothing left to live for, when's left to live? I did this to myself, even though I like to blame others, I know, deep down, it was all my choices that lead my to a a body covered in pinprick scars and white train tracks up and down my forearms. Or the circle burn marks, or the stab wounds in my chest, or the spot where the bullet bounce off my kneecap. I take another sip of coffee and forcefully swallow it down. In a few minutes, the caffeine of trucker coffee will hit me. And I will tremor and shake, and lost train of thought, and feel sicker to my stomach. There's an old man sitting at the corner next me., eating the yolks of his over easy eggs with a piece of diner brand burnt wheat toast. I can see the butter already melted onto the break. It drips off and splatters the polished counter top. He eats nosily, the sounds he makes almost sexual. Letting specks of grease and egg and toast take refuge in a salt shaker beard. A tired looking woman serenades the tables with promises of more acidic coffee and pie and meatloaf and pancakes and sausage links. Menus act as hymnals we read from before the sun rises on a Sunday morning. Most of the people are just waking up and I haven't slept in four days, at the far end of yet another bender. My eyes burn from being open too long and I swear that I can see the very shadows move.

Sometimes I hear my name being called, but there's never anyone who actually knows my name. No one cares. Even my own imaginary friend said fuck this and packed their things and they were gone. Nobody, not even the pretend, want to be around someone who does nothing but try to kill themselves by loophole tricks, who bitch's and moans about a girl who doesn't even remember him, who never can see the good in anything he actually has, who is the definition of cynical. I can't blame the friends who loved me to leave. Nobody wants to watch a loved one self-destruct completely, nobody wants to see a man hellbent on slamming into rock bottom, face first, broken neck. Silence. Peace. I take a sit of my coffee and wonder how these coffee mugs keep the liquid hot much longer than the mugs I have stashed back at home. I look at the mug, getting out of my head, because that's a bad place to be when you're coming down and realizing what you've become and it's sick, and it's gross, and it's dirty and I'm a fucking derelict. I have done my laundry in over a month. I want to apologize. I want to yell in everyone's face. I want to die, I want to live, I want to not be afraid. I want to be less paranoid. I want to take care of myself again, but the little baggie with powdery residue says I'm fucking lying. I'm always lying. I am a con artist, and I'm dangerously good at it. Fall in love with me, and if I keep it up, your mine forever. The tired woman fills my coffee mug for the third time. It's bitter taste stays on my tongue. It distracts me. My head hurts, and my stomach hurts and my body aches. I can't remember all that much for the past few days. And that relieves me because I'm not really sure I want to. I don't want to face the shame I should probably feel. The man next to me finished his food. It is quiet again, other than the sounds of the kitchen, the low drone of other's voice. I signal for my check. Four cups of a coffee and an order of white toast. My stomach hurts. It's time to make it home and sleep this off until the next one starts

[amarantine-amirite]

Less is S’more

I got up way too early. Before dawn, the world is still and quiet, and the air is cool and crisp. The sky is a deep shade of blue or purple, and the stars and moon are visible.

I don't feel like I have a head start on the day, nor do I feel calm because I am awake while the rest of the world is still asleep. Something kept me up all night.

I stood in the dimly lit corner of the room. Claudia watched me pace around from her perch on the edge of the purple couch. "You're up early, Michelle," she remarked.

I turned to her and said the thing that kept me up: "Do you ever feel like the universe is punishing you for wanting something too much?"

Claudia looked at me with a puzzled look on her face, looking puzzled. "No, why would you even have that problem?"

Everyone thinks I have trouble getting what I want, but there's a lot of lying that goes on here. People just don't want to accept that lying has consequences.

Other kids don't understand it. They just think I'm somebody with a low tolerance for not getting what I want. That isn't true, being lied to pisses everybody off, it's just that I make noise. Most kids just accept the lies and go on with their day. I don't. I make a fuss.

"I'm saying that because every time I go to do something, I feel like I'm fighting for the chance to be lied to."

I hoped Claudia would understand what I said. I don't think she did. "No. I think maybe your standards are too high"

There it is, your standards are too high, the universal code word for I'm going to make you seem unreasonable to cover our lie. If refusing to tolerate lying makes me unreasonable, then fuck off.

"Can you point to a concrete example? This sounds like hypotheticals"

Only one thing came to mind: in 8th grade, our school planned to have a 4th of July picnic instead of graduation because "if our formals were anything to go by, you kids have no taste in clothes". The weather had been dry enough that a stray cigarette would have blown up the forest, so fireworks were out of the question. It also doesn't help that fireworks have a toxic chemical footprint.

The class proposed some cool alternatives to fireworks. Someone suggested we light up the night with sky lanterns. The teacher pointed out it solves neither the pollution nor forest fire problems. Another kid suggested we shoot confetti into the sky with a confetti cannon, the guy that suggested the lanterns mentioned creates littler that wildlife may choke on, as do light-up balloons with LEDs. The kid who sat behind me suggested light-up drones, but that idea got shot down because the drones posed a threat to birds.

Now, I thought we could blow glow-in-the-dark bubbles, but I didn't get to pitch this one because someone butted in with phone displays. Everyone said no to that because it's "too much work", whatever that means. Ink jars waste water. A laser light show triggered a bad memory of the teacher's prom.

They wound up canceling the picnic. We didn't get anything to commemorate finishing 8th grade. The result? Nobody from my middle school remembers whether or not they finished middle school. And worse? Our homeroom was the only one that'd received any information that implied our graduation ceremony was a no-go.

"OK, Michelle," Claudia sighed, "what do you want?"

"S'mores," I nodded, "And I know that's ridiculous because it's Christmas Eve and s'mores are a summer food."

"S'mores don't have to be a summer thing," Claudia declared, casually leaning against the edge of the sofa, "If you're brave enough, you can make them by the campfire in winter. You don't even need a campfire to make them. You can toast marshmallows over the fireplace. I know because a friend of mine and I did that once. Best way to spend Christmas Eve."

A fleeting disappointment crossed my face. "We can't," I hesitated.

Claudia's curiosity sparked. "Why not?"

It's a long story. This year, the state of Oregon had a fire ban in place during the summer. The fire ban prohibited fireworks, campfires, and barbecues, even the propane-powered kind. As extreme as it sounded, it made sense because it didn't rain for the entire spring and we got barely any snow last winter. With weather like that, it becomes dry enough that you can't even fart in the forest.

After October 11th, the ban was extended over the Christmas season to include ovens, both gas and electric, and fireplaces of any kind.

While I attempted to condense the story of Oregon's first year rond fire ban into a single sentence, a sudden realization lit up my eyes, and I grinned. "Wait a sec, I spoke too soon. You can make s'mores in the microwave."

Claudia's skepticism wavered, replaced by genuine intrigue. "You can?"

I nodded again, my grin turning mischievous. "Yes! And while you don't get the caramelized flavor from the marshmallows being charred over a flame, making s'mores in the microwave makes the marshmallows extra sticky."

We tried making s'mores in the microwave. I want to say it worked, but I don't think it did.

The marshmallows puffed out a little bit deflated. It dripped under the rotating plate and it got stuck. The chocolate melted in the middle because it got stuck in an antinode for the microwave. The graham crackers caught on fire. That caused the microwave to blow up.

Smoke and a strong smell of burnt plastic and metal filled the room. I rushed to the window and reached over to open it, hoping to dissipate the smoke before it tripped the smoke detector.

"OK, Claudia," I said as I sauntered out of the kitchen, "the microwave just exploded."

Claudia jumped about three feet. "How!?" she screamed

"I think the plate got stuck and something overheated too much in one spot," I said as I walked out into the hall to get the fire extinguisher, "I'll get the fire extinguisher and stop it from causing further damage, you call the fire department."

I left the door open as I left. Claudia pointed to the label above the fire extinguisher. "Michelle, that isn't a fire extinguisher, that's a hand grenade!" she shouted.

"I'm pretty sure that's a fire extinguisher," I chuckled. That sign never fails to make me laugh. A fire extinguisher looks nothing like a hand grenade.

I grabbed the fire extinguisher. I aimed it at the bottom of the microwave. I pulled the pin, squeezed the handle, and shot myself in the face.

I read the instructions again. I squeezed the handle, and again it backfired. I put the fire extinguisher down, gestured to Claudia to leave, and we both left. Claudia pulled the fire alarm on our way out.

The fire department showed up. They sprayed the building with a hose, got the fire out, and recovered the melted, warped remains of the microwave.

Well, you can't say we didn't try.

@promptlyprompting

[whumptimebaby]

I know I'll be alright (but I'm not tonight)

| No warnings apply | 1/1 | Hurt/Comfort | 08/10/2022 (MM/DD/YYYY)

CW: Earthquakes, Toxic Perfectionism

There isn't a soul at 4*Town's agency who doesn't know about Jesse's overworking problem, but in all fairness, he was working on it. It only really comes out when something bad happens, which really isn't too often, not anymore.

An earthquake though, that'll definitely do it.

Links: AO3 | Full Fic Below Cut

On at least some level, Jesse was aware that he had a problem. 

Last year, ‘97, Robaire had called him on it. Jesse had been sneaking out to practice after everyone else went to bed, running off at most three hours of sleep on most days. He had expectations to meet, things he couldn't fail, and to know that there was even a slight chance he could slip up was infectious.

This disease, this drive to be a walking example of perfection, was genetic. From the very moment he came into existence, it plagued him. 

What surprised him about Robaire's intervention wasn't that there was a problem, it was that he'd noticed the problem. He looked past the results, the good results, and saw what was happening on a much deeper level. Management didn't take too kindly to him putting in fewer hours, nor did they appreciate when he started making more mistakes, but for a little bit at least, he allowed himself to be satisfied with those imperfections.

But it was still genetic. When bad things happen, when he loses sight of how to manage his mind, he falls right back into his old habits.

It wasn't even like something that bad had happened. Jesse woke up after a particularly bad sleep, and when he'd gone to make himself toast, he dropped a plate. It didn't even break. He just dropped it. 

Instead of picking it up, he sat on the floor, trying to decide if he should cry or move on. 

It flipped a switch in him. His skin lit with the barest hint of energy, just noticeable enough to drive him nuts. He tried to shake it off in most cases, but today his attempt ended up with him accidently jamming his elbow into the cupboard behind him.

And that made the feeling so much worse.

When Taeyoung came into the kitchen, clad with messy hair and his oversized grey sleeping shirt, he took one sweeping look around to take everything in. Jesse waved meekly. 

Taeyoung walked right past him and hit something on the toaster. "What do you want on your toast?"

"My dignity."

He chuckled. "What happened?"

"I dropped a plate."

"I see." The toast popped, Taeyoung must have only intended to reheat it. "I don't think dignity spreads well."

"Surprise me then."

"Yes sir." 

The smell alone was enough to make him lightheaded. Maybe it was the lack of quality sleep, but whatever Taeyoung was spreading smelled delectable as it melted from the heat of the bread. He let himself get lost in the sound of the knife scraping.

Taeyoung eventually sat next to him, and handed him a new plate, adorned with two stunning pieces of jam-covered toast. 

"I thought you could use something sweet," he said. 

He took a bite. "Mm, you're something else."

"It tastes okay?"

"Tastes like dignity."

He broke into a grin. "It's just toast."

"Thanks, Tae."

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"What's wrong?" 

Did he have a tell or something? How had Taeyoumg clocked him so fast?

"I need to do something."

That's how he ended up sitting on the black leather couch in the recording studio. Originally, it had been just the two of them, but one by one the other members showed up too. He thought that putting his energy into something would nullify the buzzing, but nothing he tried behind the booth seemed to cut it. The feeling was something akin to adrenaline, keeping him heightened and alert. 

Taeyoung was doing a horrible job at pretending he wasn't worried, but in all fairness, Jesse was doing a horrible job at pretending he didn't notice. They were locked in a stasis, neither moving to push either way. 

Seriously. The buzz, in all its frustrating glory, should not have been there. He slept badly, he dropped a plate, and he hit his elbow. That was not cause for such a strong reaction, and it was a strong reaction. That feeling was incredibly familiar, a symptom of his genetic predisposition to working himself into dust. 

Maybe he should be worried? 

Oh well. He didn't want to deal with whatever deeper implications came with that, so he wasn't going to. 

Luckily for him, Aaron T. was in the booth. If there was anything that was baffling enough to distract him, it was whatever he was planning to do.

"Okay, okay Tae, put on the beat."

Taeyoung saluted, his fingers dancing across the soundboard. Jesse had no clue how it worked, nor how Taeyoung learned to navigate it, but after a few clicks and messing with one of the many reel to reel cassette tapes, a slow, groovy hip hop track played. 

Aaron T. slipped the headphones up to his ears and stepped closer to the mic. As the intro played, he threw up two peace signs, letting his arms fall back to his sides. He nodded along to the counts, and then-

"When it comes to 4*Town, better ask Robaire. He sits in on more meetings than our manager, I swear."

Was he...? Was he freestyling? 

"Got an eye for design and a heart for a mind, the pitter patter patterns of rainfall are in his eyes."

Oh God. He was freestyling. This is what Jesse got for not paying attention. 

"He's a sensitive guy, but it's a weapon in disguise! You should see the 4*Townies falling for him when he cries."

He exchanged a glance with Robaire, whose entire face was alight with glee. Apparently, this was something to be delighted by. 

Never a dull moment with Aaron T., that's for sure.

"His French is captivating, he speaks it crystal clear. He makes his fans scream 'je veux te baiser.'"

"T.!" Robaire pressed the button that allowed him to speak into the booth. "That was foul!"

"Don't act scandalised, you taught me that!" Aaron T. pointed at him. His eyes briefly met Jesse's, and a playful smirk graced his lips.

Uh oh.

He waited for the next set of eight counts to start, pressing his hands together as though he was praying.

"Forgive me father, I think I might have sinned. Jesse just grounded me for bringing up his kids."

Jesse sank further into the couch. 

"Relax old man, it happens to the best of us, can't think of one guy who gets half as annoyed at us."

He was in between deciding if he was going to kill Aaron T. when he stepped out of the booth or not. For now, a middle finger would do.

"The resident pretty boy, I think I have a crush." He put his hand on his chin like he was genuinely thinking about it. "Got all of 4*Town on our knees and has the nerve to blush. When he's on stage he's magic, you'll see. Come to our next concert, cheer for him, Jesse!"

"Fuck you!" He called out. 

He laughed. "Love you, Jess!"

"Me next!" Taeyoung pretended to pound on the glass. "Me, me please! 

Aaron T. winked, and counted himself in. "If there's ever been an angel on earth, you'd find it's Tae-youngest off the group but think he's older any day-"

"Why is he doing this?" Jesse whispered to Aaron Z. 

"Beats me."

"-time you'll find him taking care of injured ani-mulls over every single reason he should leave us for the wolves."

"He's kinda clever," Aaron Z. added.

Jesse shook his head. "I will bet actual money he wrote these ahead of time."

"Be nice," Robaire teased, "he has a crush on you."

"Oh stop." He waved him away. 

"Did I call him an angel? I forgot, he's kinda not. Though we're both troublemakers, only I get caught."

Taeyoung made an innocent heart with his hands. 

"He's our baby brother, our muse, our inspiration, and his fans? There's enough to fill a whole nation."

"Baller!" Taeyoung cheered. 

"Ay-ron-zee, you're next!"

"Oh god," he mumbled.

"Our dance captain, that's my boy Aaron Z., he spits bars and riffs like it'll make him big green."

"He's coming for your gig." Robaire made a big show of sitting next to Aaron Z., putting his arm around him. 

Aaron Z. shoved him off. "Shut up."

"A little bit quiet but a softie at heart, unless you try to show him up, he'll tear your ass apart. 

He gave Robaire a foul glare. 

"Only ended up with us cause Robbie up and begged, left us spiralling and trying to get him in the bag."

"You love me." Robaire mouthed. Aaron Z. slapped his shoulder.

"Commodity and prodigy, everybody knows it's true. Catch Z! Coming to a big screen near you!"

Aaron T. slipped the headphones off, letting them rest on his shoulders. Taeyoung must have decided this was a personal attack, because he charged over to speak into the booth. 

"Put those back on, you're not done."

"Wha-"

"You didn't do yourself."

His nose scrunched. "Jeez, okay, if you're so excited."

"Yes I am," Taeyoung insisted, "Go go go!"

He put the headphones back on. "Last but not least, there's me, and that's T! There isn't much to say, but it's great being me."

Jesse found it hard to believe there could ever be few words to describe Aaron T.

"I'm with the best guys I ever could have known, the more I got to know them the more they really shown."

Oh. He was buttering them up. That made more sense.

"With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see." Aaron T. bopped along with the words. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me. 4*Town forever, our slogan reigns true. Immortalised in music and we do it all for you."

"Woo!" Robaire cheered. 

Aaron Z. flinched. "Do you have to yell in my ear?"

"You're grumpy today." Taeyoung giggled.

"'Am not," he grumbled.

Aaron T. left the recording booth and hit a button on the console to stop the tape. 

"T." Jesse nodded toward Aaron Z. "Make him happy."

He saluted. "Aye aye!"

"Don't-"

Aaron T. grabbed his wrist and gave him a little tug. He guided Aaron Z. to where there was a little more space, put his hands on his waist, and swayed like they were a high school couple at prom. 

"What's wrong?" He asked gently. 

Aaron Z., despite willingly participating in Aaron T.'s antics, did his best to look and sound annoyed. "Nothing."

"Nothing," he imitated, "okay big man, if you say so."

He shut his eyes. "'Gonna kill you, Jesse."

"Shh." Aaron T. stroked the side of his head. "Violence is not the answer."

"Aaron."

Jesse watched the mock gentleness become genuine as Aaron T.'s body language changed. "I've got you, you can relax."

And he did. Somehow, through the special Aaron bond or whatever, Aaron Z. completely melted, becoming putty for Aaron T. to mold. Jesse almost felt like he was intruding. 

Aaron Z. sighed. "Thanks."

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

He mumbled something, and Aaron T.'s cheeks flushed, his eyes widening with surprise. "If you say so."

Yup, now he really felt like he was intruding.

Taeyoung shuffled awkwardly past them to fill the now empty spot on the couch. 

"Are they staring?" Aaron Z. asked.

"Mhm."

He opened an eye. "Jealous?"

Maybe a little. Maybe a lot, but not for the reasons he was insinuating. Jesse would give just about anything to relax in that same way, to deflate, to stop being so itchy.

He squirmed a little, and Aaron Z.'s brow creased with worry. 

"Of course!" Taeyoung huffed. "But I can't decide who I'm more jealous of."

Aaron Z., gave Aaron T. a pat on the back. "Go give Tae some love."

They shared a look. 

"Okay." He eventually beamed. "If you say so."

Aaron Z. shuffled onto the couch, sitting on the arm. He nudged Jesse's shoulder. 

Taeyoung latched onto Aaron T. "With all that... what were the words?"

"Huh? Oh!" Aaron T. perked up. "With all that said and all that done I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

"I like the way that sounds." He hummed. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me, it feels nice in the mouth."

Aaron Z. nudged his shoulder again, and Jesse realised he wanted his hand. He gave it to him. 

Taeyoung repeated it again. "With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

Aaron T. gave his nose a tap. "You're cute."

"It's fun to say!" 

Jesse flashed Aaron Z. a brief smile, which only seemed to deepen the worry set in his bandmate's features. He really must've had a tell or something.

To his dismay, Taeyoung kept sparing tiny glances at them. The kid knew that Z. knew that something was up. Now pretending he wasn't on the verge of exploding from nervous energy would be even more of a challenge. 

"Jesse?" He startled when Aaron T. said his name.

"Hm?"

"You want a go?"

"I'm still recovering from..." Why was everyone staring at him? Was he supposed to do something? "whatever you just did."

He pouted. "You loved it."

Jesse blinked.

"C'mon," Aaron T. whined, "shake the house down. Start your stand-up career. Get in there and do something."

"I don't think I'd be doing anything entertaining in there."

"Why'd you want to come here anyway?" Taeyoung prodded with his words, sticking his nose into business it probably did belong in. 

"I've been working on something," he admitted, "and I'm not really happy with it yet."

"Oh!" Aaron T. straightened up. "You should've said something, I wouldn't have hogged the booth."

"No, no, it was funny."

He expected him to brighten, but instead, he could almost see the lightbulb flickering on above his head. 

Great. That just left-

Robaire chimed in, "You're acting strange."

Fantastic. 

"I didn't sleep very well, I'm just tired."

"Bull." Aaron T. crossed his arms. "What's going on?" 

"It's really-"

Taeyoung raised his hand. "Ask me! Ask me!"

Aaron Z. looked unimpressed. "What's going on, Tae?"

"He was on the kitchen floor this morning."

"Oh."

"Why were you on the kitchen floor, Jesse 4*Town?" Robaire spoke with humour, but none of it was present in the tension on his face. 

"Because I slept like shit, and I felt like shit? Really, it's fine."

There were other things he could have said, other hints, invitations he could let slip. He could tell them that he didn't want to talk about it, or try to look overly happy so they could tell something was really up, but while that itch danced across his skin he couldn't do anything to let them in.

It was his energy. Telling them about it and accepting help would only lessen the amount of work he had to do, and as much as he was already exhausted, he needed to pile as much as he could on his plate. On a level much finer than his awareness could reach, he knew he needed to be busy, to soothe his fired-up nervous system, to make something good of his limited time on this planet.

He had a song to work on. It was why he was there. As much as he loved breathing in the joy of his bandmates, that was for Jesse, not Jesse from 4*Town. 

And Jesse from 4*Town demanded his attention. 

"I dropped a plate." He turned up the dramatics, kicking his legs up onto Robaire and draping himself over Aaron Z.'s lap. "So I figured I'd drop myself too, you know, just to get even."

"How does 'I dropped a plate' become 'I need to go to the recording studio?'"

"It made a sound." He shrugged. 

Aaron Z. used his free hand to gently massage Jesse's scalp. "T.?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Don't call me that, I will leave." 

Aaron T. mimicked him, making a vaguely Z.-shaped hand puppet and having it mouth along. "I will leave."

"Is he lying?"

Jesse avoided eye contact with him. 

"Yeah, it's more than that."

For fucks sake.

"It's really nothi-"

Robaire cut in. "We're always here."

"I know!"

"Jesse-"

"I'm sorry for worrying you, it really is nothing."

He frowned. "It can be nothing. Whatever's going on doesn't have to be a big thing. You don't have to open up about it, it's just... You can tell us that there is something wrong, and leave it at that, and we'll leave it alone, but if you sit here and try to say there isn't anything wrong? That's-"

"Oh my god, let it go!" He snapped. Aaron T. flinched, and Jesse shut his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

The air was taut.

Taeyoung tried, "Jesse-" 

He stood up, startling the four couch-sitters. "Let me get set up."

He turned his back to them, grabbing an acoustic guitar off the wall and slipping into the booth. It was already tuned, courtesy of Robaire and Aaron Z.'s dramatic rendition of Careless Whisper.

He pulled the stool up to the mic and put the headphones on. 

Robaire had migrated to the seat at the control panel. His voice came through the speakers. “Do you want us to record it?”

He shook his head. “Just messing around for now.”

He blinked, and leaned forward to talk into the booth again. “You sound good over the mic.”

The tiniest amount of tension evaporated, and he chuckled. 

Aaron T. scrambled over, nudging Robaire aside so he could speak. “You need to laugh like that at least once on every album, the 4*Townies would go nuts.”

“As if.” Jesse rolled his eyes. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted, “I got chills.”

Robaire nodded seriously. “It was a very good laugh.”

“Very fertile.”

Taeyoung keeled over, laughing so hard his face turned red.

“Fertile?” 

“Did I say that?” Aaron T. grew a cheeky smile.

Aaron Z. said something, and pulled him back to the couch. Aaron T. piled onto Taeyoung, laughing at least half as hard. 

“You guys are a headache.”

Robaire raised his hands in surrender, and went in to add, “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

He traced his fingers along the guitar strings, humming to himself. Robaire took the hint, and retreated back to the couch. 

The cool metal of the strings did nothing to quell the burn in his hands. A shudder ran through him.

He gave the guitar an experimental strum, and frowned. “Can someone grab me a capo?”

Taeyoung gave him a thumb’s up, grabbed the offending object, and popped his head in the booth. As soon as the door opened, a low rumble penetrated the soundproof walls.

“Here-”

Jesse only barely caught himself as the stool suddenly slipped out from under him. His arms flew up as he tried to steady himself, but his legs were shaking.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What was happening?

He made the briefest eye contact with Aaron Z. as the bandmate in question ducked beneath the couch. 

Holy shit, holy, was this an earthquake?

The mic fell into the glass, cracking it where they collided. 

Taeyoung clutched the doorframe, an arm over his head in a poor attempt to protect himself.

The cabinet swayed dangerously.

“Tae!” Robaire called. “Move!”

It tipped.

Jesse made a break for him.

His hand clamped around his wrist, and he tugged.

The cabinet crashed, cassette tapes flying as the world continued to shake. 

“Tae?” Jesse had both arms around him. 

He breathed, “Whoa.”

Jesse guided him down to the floor, using his body as a shield. “Cover your neck with your hands.”

“What?”

He took Taeyoung’s hands and put them behind his head. “Like this. You’re okay.”

“This is an earthquake?”

“It’s an earthquake,” he said with more confidence than he had. 

The mic stand shifted again, crashing into his back. Taeyoung flinched below him. 

“You’re okay,” he reassured, “It’ll be over soon.”

“Jess!” Someone, Robaire, called out. 

It was too late though. Something hit him.

One of his arm’s buckled, but the other was enough to keep him from crushing the boy beneath him. He tried to shake the weight off. 

“Tae?”

“Yeah?” 

“Crawl over to the wall, use your elbows, don’t take your hands away from your neck.”

“Wh-”

He fought to keep himself from slipping. What was so heavy? “Just do it.”

He did as he was told, inching his way to the wall.

Robaire called again, barely audible over the sound of the things falling in other rooms. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine!” 

“Are you sure?”

“Not much you could do if we weren’t.”

The shaking stopped.

As soon as Taeyoung was clear, Jesse let himself drop. 

“Holy shit.” Taeyoung breathed. “Jesse?”

“Keep still, it could start again.”

“Jesse, the roof-”

Oh. That’s what had him pinned. 

“I’m alright. We have to count to sixty, okay?”

“The roof, you’re under-”

“Tae.” Jesse reached forward. “Tae, it’s okay. Count with me, okay? We can’t do anything until we know it’s done, so we have to count.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“One.” He tried to sound as soothing as he could. “Two, three, four…”

Taeyoung joined in. “Five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

At twenty-four, the earth began its rampage again. 

The aftershock carried much less strength than the first round, but it was still enough to make the duo tense up. 

“You’re doing good,” Jesse said. 

Taeyoung laughed. “You sure? Cause everything about this feels wrong.”

“This is exactly what they teach kids to do here. We had drills in elementary school.”

“They do drills in Seoul sometimes, for first responders mostly.”

“In Seoul? What about Busan?”

He shook his head. “Not at my school.” 

“This must be pretty scary then.”

“Understatement.”

The shaking came to another standstill. Jesse breathed the tension out of his shoulders. “You ready to count again?”

“From one?”

“You got it.”

Taeyoung peeked up at him. “That’s annoying.”

He scoffed. “Tell that to the earth.”

“How many times is it gonna start shaking again?” 

“There’s no way to know. We just count.”

“And if we get to sixty and nothing happens?”

“We get the fuck out of here.”

“Right, okay, so, one, two, three…”

“...fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.” They finished together.

For a moment, there was quiet.

“Are you guys okay?” Jesse called out.

“Everything’s good out here,” Aaron T. responded, “but uh…”

“What?”

“The cabinet is kinda… I don’t think you’re getting out anytime soon.”

Oh.

Taeyoung sat up, shuffling over to get the piece of the roof off Jesse’s back. “Oh! It’s not too heavy.”

He nodded. “I’m just at a bad angle, I think.”

“Hold on, let me-” The weight disappeared. “Okay! Move!”

Jesse scooted away, sitting with his back to the wall. With a huff, Taeyoung dropped the roof tile and sat back down next to him. 

Aaron Z. appeared in the window. “We could try to break you out?”

“Leave it to the professionals please.” Jesse's brows turned up. “You three should go.”

“We can’t.” Robaire joined him, pounding on the glass in slow motion. “The door is jammed.”

What a headache. 

“Now what?” He crossed his arms.

Aaron Z. shrugged. “We wait.”

“Can you call anyone?”

“I tried,” Robaire said, “lines are down.”

Taeyoung groaned. “That is so annoying.”

Jesse nodded his agreement. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Jeez, you two are sour.” Aaron T. propped himself on the soundboard. “It’s not that different from when they cut our power.”

Aaron Z. swatted at him. “Don’t bring that up.” 

“We just need to chat or something, no big deal.”

Maybe he was right. They were all okay, it was just a waiting game.

It would be easier if he didn’t still feel so damn itchy. Seriously, who survives an earthquake, and the first thing they want to do after is work? 

He really did have a problem.

“You know what?” Robaire pulled a chair over so he could sit. “We could make a pretty good song out of this. Shaking up my heart or something.”

“Stop that.” Taeyoung giggled. “You’re shaking up my heart, something, something, you make it stop and start.”

“Let’s get you a writing credit on the next album.” Aaron T. grinned. 

He continued, “When you walk in the room, it starts to shake. Baby, you’re my earthquake.”

Robaire grew a fond smile. “That’s the winner.” 

“We’ll do a whole album!”

“I don’t mean to impede on the fun.” Aaron Z. gave Jesse a pointed stare. “But I just want to make it clear that if any of you feel even the tiniest bit off, you need to tell me.”

Jesse tried to look relaxed. “This feels targeted.”

“The roof did fall on you,” Taeyoung pointed out.

“I feel fine.”

“You’ll let me know if that changes?”

Would he? “Of course.”

Aaron Z. looked sceptical, but didn’t push any further. 

“How bad do you reckon the earthquake was?” 

“Reckon?” Aaron T. gaped. “You wanna add a yeehaw next time? A giddy up? You mistake Cali for Nashville?”

“Hey, what if we did something cowboy themed for the next album?” Taeyoung suggested, “Right at home for you Jesse.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don't think you have much room to make fun of the way I talk.”

“I reckon y’all didn't take the chickens out the barnyard. Giddy up, let's get a move on!” Aaron T. used the world’s worst southern accent. It probably couldn't even be classified as southern, definitely not to a specific area.

“You know you just made no sense, right?”

He glanced at Robaire so briefly that Jesse almost missed it. “Sorry a-boot that, just caught a load of beaver over by the igloo. Had to haul it home by moose.”

“C’est quoi ce bordel?” Robaire mumbled, “You’ve been to Vancouver, you know Canada isn't like that.”

“Vancouver isn't real.”

… Yes it is?

“Okay Aaron, whatever you say.”

“You sure he didn't hit his head or something?” Jesse checked.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Shame.”

“Hey!” 

His earlier internal comment about headaches manifested into a real one. How convenient. 

“Seriously though.” Robaire refocused the conversation. “That wasn't a small earthquake.”

“How damaged are the cassettes?” Taeyoung, the poor kid, had gone back to looking like a nervous wreck. “Our demos are all on there.”

Aaron T. grimaced. “Some of them are toast, but some look okay.”

It would be a shame to lose their demos. Jesse always had it in the back of his mind that they might release a special album or something with those original versions of their songs. It was something the fans would enjoy.

Their old agency would have shot the idea down immediately. If it wasn't profitable to the average teenage girl, it wasn't going to happen, and an album curated to what existing fans wanted to hear wasn't the way to get new fans.

He hated thinking of the 4*Townies like that, like they were people to be enticed, to become trapped in the fear of missing out and race to be the “best fan.” He especially hated that they were being used for profit. It frustrated him to no end. Every 4*Townie he’d met was, at their core, someone with a life equally as complex as his, he didn't want to take advantage of them! 

It was a sure-fire way to make him think of his time at art school, specifically the professors he looked up to. There were some incredible artists there, people who cradled the emotions of the viewer and delicately reminded them that they are not alone. 

It was never about the money for Jesse.

Maybe throwing something on the wheel would get rid of that still present burn to be doing something. Back when ceramics was part of his curriculum, it would do the trick.

He hoped the earthquake didn't make a mess of his studio. That would suck.

It was kinda cold. He found himself staring at where the roof had given out, trying to decide whether there was a breeze or not. 

“Jesse?” Aaron Z. yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You’re very spacey.”

Maybe he was. That wasn't uncommon after a horrible sleep. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you're good, just… making sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're a little pale,” Taeyoung fussed. 

“Seriously, I'm fine.”

He didn't appear to be convincing anyone. Why did nobody ever believe him when he said he was okay? What a headache.

Right. His head actually hurt. Maybe it was time to retire that figure of speech.

“Any changes?” Aaron Z. prompted.

“I don't know, my head hurts? It's just because I’m tired.”

“Did it hurt earlier?”

No. “I don't know, does it matter? The roof didn't hit my head.”

He didn’t respond. Guilt twisted in Jesse’s chest, thick enough to cause actual pain. Of course Aaron would be stressed, it’s not like he’d had the best experience with people close to him and health. He really should be more considerate.

“What should I be paying attention to?”

“Numbness, abdominal pain…”

Jesse blinked, and Aaron Z. was done talking, watching him expectantly.

Oh. That… that probably wasn’t good.

“Was having trouble focusing on that list? Cause…”

“Jesse.”

“I really did sleep like shit.”

…

Taeyoung raised a hand to his cheek. “You’re cold.”

“There’s a draft, isn’t there?”

“No?”

Oh.

…

“Show me your back.” Aaron Z. had none of his signature stoicism. 

“I don’t want to.”

Robaire and Aaron T. exchanged a glance that could only be described as frightened, but that was only barely visible. 

…

His vision swam, when did it start swimming?

…

“Jesse?” Taeyoung shook him lightly, sending specks of light dancing around the room. Each one hurt as he became aware of them. “Hey, are you listening?”

“What?” He had to fight to make his mouth move.

…

What was happening? Why was it happening so fast? Was it actually happening as quick as it felt, or was he losing time? How much had he lost?

…

He heard bits of sentences. 

“... internal bleeding.” That was Aaron Z.

And then Aaron T. “... be okay?”

Something crashed. He was lying on the floor. Taeyoung held him. 

“...nose is bleeding.”

“What?”

…

All at once, he became a passive observer. It wasn’t anything close to an out-of-body experience, he struggled to hold onto the little awareness he’d been left with, but he certainly wasn’t grounded in any way. 

He knew a lot of things. He knew Aaron Z. was giving instructions. He knew Taeyoung was following them. He knew Aaron T. had silently retreated, gripping himself so tightly Jesse worried his nails might break through his skin. 

He especially knew Robaire was trying to move the cabinet.

He didn’t know how he knew. He certainly didn’t have any memory of seeing it happen. He just knew. 

It happened so fast.

***

Turns out, his descent from perfectly aware to unconscious was a long and gruelling process for everybody except for Jesse. It was not fast at all.

He’d heard from his nurse that the boys reported the whole thing taking upwards of an hour. An hour.

That was a week ago though. He’d had plenty of time to process his injury, to recover from surgery, to find his footing back in his own brain in the comfort of his hospital room.

He wished he hadn’t done that last part.

Remember when he said that bad things happening sent him back to old habits? That fucking itch was worse than he’d felt in a long time. 

He’d been trying to fend it off, he really had. His nurse brought him some paper, and he’d made a fretboard to practice with, but that wasn’t anywhere close to good enough. He needed to hear what his song was sounding like, how the melody he’d been toying with would be impacted by the guitar chords, whether his lyrics complimented the sound, paper just wasn’t doing it.

He needed to get back to work, he had so much to do. The earthquake was a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to get off his ass and work on this song before another natural disaster came to take him out.

This song was important. 

It needed to be perfect.

He was going to be discharged in two days, but that wasn’t soon enough. The itch was stronger than any hunger or thirst. Satisfying it was more essential to him than breathing. 

He needed to leave.

He needed to leave right now.

He poked his head out the door to his room, taking a moment to note where everyone was. 

His room was close to the nurse’s station, where a surgeon and nurse he didn't recognize were chatting. Aside from them, the halls were eerily empty. One glance at the clock revealed it was a couple minutes after midnight. 

The surgeon left, taking off down the hall at a brisk pace as their pager sounded off. Jesse approached the nurse’s station.

“What can I do for you?” The nurse was clearly distracted, fumbling through a daunting pile of paperwork.

“I’m going home.”

He stopped. “When is your discharge date?” 

“The tenth.”

“That's not today.”

“I know.”

The nurse frowned, completely abandoning his task to give him his full attention. “Do your parents know you’re going home?”

“I'm twenty-two.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“No.” Why was this guy giving him a hard time? “I don't live with them though.”

“You got someone to pick you up?”

“I’m not asking for your permission, I just thought I should let someone know.”

The nurse gave him an unamused raise of the brows. “I'm not trying to stop you, kid. Just making sure you know what you're getting yourself into.”

He ran a hand through his hair. This was taking too long. 

“Leaving against medical advice puts you at increased risk for-”

“Save it, I've heard it before.”

“This a pastime of yours?” 

No, he just had a friend prone to injuries and spent too much time in a shitty company. “Just part of the industry.”

“Oh, an entertainer,” he said, “maybe I'll have heard of you by the next time you come in.”

Rude. 

“Bye.”

As he turned to walk away, the nurse laughed. “Goodbye bigshot.”

There was supposed to be more than that. There was much more paperwork last time. He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed at the nurse though, not when they were both equally impatient. 

So what if it was negligence? It saved him time. 

Once he was in the lobby, he stopped to think for a moment. Where was he going? The recording studio, right? That meant getting a ride to the agency’s main building.

He could call Robaire. 

…But maybe calling a cab was the better idea. 

Calling Robaire would mean going back to their apartment. The members would fuss over him, keep him from working, maybe even try to get him to go back. He needed to do work. If he didn't, there was a strong possibility he might explode.

So when he fished his phone out of his purse (he was sure his dad would roll his eyes if he knew his son was carrying a purse), he dialled the number for a cab, and made a beeline for the pickup area. 

There were benches, but he didn't sit. 

His cab arrived after the longest seven minutes of his life.

The drive was mostly spent in silence. At one point, the driver tried to make small talk. 

“Nobody to bring you clothes?” He gave him a strange look. “Is that why you're still in the gown?”

Jesse just ignored him, watching the city pass by. 

He was surprised to see how much damage the earthquake had done. Even a week later, old buildings were still taped off. Half the streetlights were dim, or dark altogether. 

The most bizarre part was the contrast. By the time he got to the agency, he’d almost gotten used to seeing the burnt shell of a store next to the dusty, cracked rubble of a townhouse, and then turning the corner to see a row of newer builds that, thanks to their more stable base, looked untouched. 

It snapped him out of his trance long enough to give the cab driver a sizable tip. He had a feeling extra cash meant a lot to people right then. 

The agency was… well. 

The outside looked pretty okay. A few of the windows were cracked, but structurally? It was definitely still a building.

The door was taped off. When he tried to open it, he found it was locked.

Great. 

The sound of his phone ringing nearly sent his soul flying out of his body. He answered the call without thinking.

“Hello?”

“I'm going to give you ten seconds to tell me why you left the hospital.”

Ah. They must've called his emergency contacts. “I feel better.”

His sister sounded more entertained than anything. “Mom’s furious.”

“Tell her to call me herself next time.”

“She did one better,” his sister whispered, “called your home phone.”

He groaned. 

“You should thank me, you’ve got like, a minute to figure out what you’re gonna say.”

He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

“Good luck, stay safe, love you.”

“Love you too.”

He loved his sister, he really did. He loved his mom too. He certainly loved her more when she didn't snitch on him. 

With his phone still in hand, he picked a new target, a smashed window on the second floor. Conveniently, there was already a ladder set up, one of the ones they stock around the building in case of a fire. 

He climbed each rung carefully. He wasn't trying to hurt himself, after all, just get to the studio, just get his hands on a guitar, sit in a place that was completely isolated so he could come back to the world being worth something.

It was never about money. It was never about fame. He was in the position to do something good, and if that meant leaving the hospital early to work on a song that one, just one person could relate to? 

His phone rang again. 

Using one hand to hold the ladder, he answered.

“Jesse.”

“Hi Ro.”

His voice was fiery “You left the hospital?”

Great. He was mad. “I'm okay.”

“Go back.”

He took a step up. “No.”

“No? Jesse, you had surgery.”

“I feel fine.”

“So go back and wait.”

“I'm not going back.”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere safe?”

He climbed another rung. “There’s no one here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

Jesse surrendered some of the tension from his shoulders. “I’m safe.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Just, come home.”

“Not yet.”

“Where could you possibly-” 

He took the phone away from his ear to pull himself in through the window. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Are you climbing?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.

“Not anymore. I'm a little busy, I'll call you back later.”

“Don't-”

He hung up. It was cheeky, childish even, but the studio was on the second floor, so he only really had a little bit more to walk. 

His phone rang again. He ignored it. 

The hallways were clear for the most part. Somebody definitely came in to clear them out. 

He wasn't quite certain why the building was closed until he got to the entrance to the recording studio. The door was still blocked. Apparently, instead of clearing the pile of debris outside the door, the rescue team had opted to tear a hole through the wall. It had since been boarded up, but when he looked through the cracks, he found that even if he had a way in, there was no way anything productive was happening in that room. 

The guitar was long gone, impaled by the mic stand. The foam padding lay strewn about in the booth, but the roof tile was the main event, taking up a majority of the floor space in its almost apocalyptic glory.

Okay, maybe he understood a little bit of why the boys were so on him. He wasn't exactly the first to offer up information about his well-being. The roof falling on him might have been something to worry about. He certainly would worry if it fell on any of them.

The rest of the studio didn't fare any better, in fact, it was significantly worse. The cabinet was the most prominent feature. It hadn't moved, and still blocked the door between the booth and the rest of the studio. Cassette reels covered the entire floor. It would have been impossible to walk without crushing any. 

A shiver ran through him. That cabinet was definitely heavier than the roof tile. If it had hit Taeyoung…

He pushed away a wave of anxiety. It didn't hit him. They were all okay. 

… He wanted to go home.

But that wasn't happening, right? He had to get into the studio, he had to use the guitar, it was a need. 

He pulled at the boards. They didn't move.

The guitar was still very much smashed anyway. 

It was so frustrating that he could tear his hair out. He backed into the wall, sliding down it as a few, baffled laughs raked through his body. 

Of course. Of course he couldn't get in. What was he thinking?

What was he thinking? 

Seriously, what did he think was going to happen?

It was unbearable.

It was hysterical.

He couldn't stop laughing.

His phone rang again, and he laughed harder.

Of course the one day his disease was more than just an itch, more than something manageable, was also the one day he couldn't do anything about it. 

Why did he think any of this was a good idea anyway? For just a moment, he remembered why he called it a disease. This wasn't good for him. He had a problem.

It was a problem that he’d come here. It was a problem that he’d put work before his well-being. It was a problem that he didn't give himself the proper time to recover. 

It was a problem. He had a problem. 

He was imperfect. At his core, he was flawed. He was never going to live up to that God-forsaken itch, because the itch itself kept him from scratching it, and sitting, facing the remains of their recording studio, laughing harder than he’d laughed in years, he finally understood that. 

It was the rawest pain he’d ever felt.

His phone rang again. He ignored it. 

He couldn't breathe. Each laugh tore the oxygen from the deepest parts of his lungs.

His phone rang again. 

And it rang. 

And he picked it up.

“Jesse?” It was Taeyoung this time. “Where are you?” 

He held a hand over the mic to try and muffle his laughter.

“Are you okay? Jesse?”

“I'm, yeah.” 

“Where are you?”

No point in hiding it now. “The agency.”

Taeyoung suddenly sounded further away. “He’s at the agency.”

“Who’s with you?”

“T.”

He took a deep breath. “Hi, Aaron.”

“Jesse says hi.”

Very distantly, he heard. “Put him on speaker.”

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Aaron,” Jesse repeated.

“Hi, Jesse.” Aaron T. responded with the tiniest hint of playfulness. “I'm gonna slap you for giving Robaire a reason to wake me up at twelve-thirty.”

He managed to get the laughter down to a chuckle. “Don't pretend you weren't still up.”

“I wasn't,” Taeyoung complained, “whatcha doing at the agency anyway?” 

He took a moment to formulate a response. “No comment.”

“He's worse than you.” Taeyoung groaned. “Wah wah, I'm Jesse, and I left the hospital early to go take care of unfinished business at the agency.” 

“Nobody is worse than Aaron.” Jesse crossed his arms. “He would've just left without telling anyone.”

“I'm right here. Hey fucker, signal when you change lanes next time!”

“You left without telling anyone.”

“I told a nurse.”

“A nurse? Not your nurse?”

“If you keep asking questions, I'll hang up and go somewhere else.”

Aaron T. gasped. “How’d you know we were on the way?”

“Because you’re swearing at other cars. They let you two go alone together?”

“You have Robaire so stressed he forgot to tell us not to.” 

Maybe he shouldn't have been so vague with Robaire. 

“I'm sorry-” he started. 

“It's just good to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” Taeyoung added, “I mean, we’ve all done this Jess, the breakdown thing, we’ve all gone and done stupid things and worried each other. The apology is nice, but I forgave you as soon as you picked up.”

“I second that,” Aaron T. said, “It would be very hypocritical for me to be mad anyway, I nearly fucked up an entire performance because of an injury.”

Taeyoung teased. “Didn’t you also freak him out that one time? On our first tour?”

Ah yes. The hitchhiking.

“Don't get me started on that, oh my fucking God it’s not your fucking right of way!”

“Jesse?” 

In all honesty, he was still processing what was just said to him. Everybody in the group had done this, sure, but it felt completely different when it was him. 

Taeyoung tried again. “You still there?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off. 

“We’re like, two blocks away, hang tight.”

“Hanging tight.”

“Are you inside?”

“I'm by the studio.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, that was about the reaction he was expecting. 

“Did you climb through the window?” Aaron T. asked. Jesse could practically see the surprise on his bandmate’s face. 

“Do you see another way in?”

“No?”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Wait-”

He put the phone down. What could he say? He had a flair for the dramatic after all. Really, it was just because he needed time to decide how honest he was going to be.

More laughter started to bubble. He’d much rather cry than laugh. At least when he was crying, his reaction was normal. The laughing was just weird.

He laughed anyway. He kept laughing as Taeyoung and Aaron T. appeared at the end of the hall.

“The wall come alive and tell a joke?” Aaron T. jogged over to sit in front of him, Taeyoung close behind. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not,” he said as soon as he found the spare air, “it’s not funny.”

“Breathe,” Taeyoung soothed, “slow down, tell us what’s happening.”

“The guitar is smashed.” 

“Huh?”

“I came all this way, and the guitar is smashed.”

They exchanged a glance.

Aaron T. wrapped his cardigan around Jesse’s shoulders. “I’m not following.” 

“I’m just.” He focused on breathing. Then, with a smile, he said, “It’s nothing.”

Taeyoung’s expression grew firm. “I love you Jess, but you can’t seriously think we’re gonna believe you’re okay, right? Look at you.”

He was a mess, he knew that.

But he could pretend he wasn’t. He could live in that fantasy for just a little longer, right?

Everyone knew it was a lie, but that was a problem for later.

“I’m okay,” he insisted, “I left because I’m okay.”

“You haven’t been okay though, not since the plate.”

He scoffed, “No shit, there was an earthquake.”

Aaron T. huffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“I…”

Who was he kidding? 

“Do you think things would be better if I wasn’t in the band?”

The question caught both Taeyoung and Aaron T. off guard, hell, it caught Jesse off guard too. 

Aaron T. answered fast, “No.”

“We’re not 4*Town without you.” Taeyoung agreed. 

“There’s something wrong with me, I can’t, there’s, it doesn’t go away, it, I don’t know, I can’t make it go away, and then I do this instead, and it’s not productive.”

“Hey, hey.” Taeyoung cupped his cheek. He leaned into it. “This isn’t about productive, okay? It never has been. You being in the band isn’t about what you can produce, it’s so much more than that.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He was a product. He always had been.

He was a product of his parents, a reflection of them that they worked so hard to curate. He was a product of their agency, and even though they pretended he wasn’t an object to toy with, everybody involved knew he was. 

His value came from the things he was able to do. 

He couldn’t say that though, because he knew it wasn’t a healthy thought pattern. The last thing he wanted to do was make the people closest to him feel even half as miserable as he felt right then.

“I’m sorry.”

Neither Aaron T. nor Taeyoung were happy with that.

“Can we go home? I think… I think I need to be away from here.”

“Of course.” Taeyoung helped him up. “Anything you need, we’re at your service.”

Aaron T. saluted. “To the car, Jesse sir!”

“Don’t call me sir.” They made their way down the hall.

“What would you prefer, sweetheart? Babygirl? Apple of my eye?”

He rolled his eyes. “None of those.”

“Go easy on him, he has a crush on you, remember?”

“Oh yes.” Aaron T. nodded. “I’m going to be very sad if you shut down my pet names.”

He was trying to fluster him, an adorable effort. “If this is you trying to make the first move, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh really?” Jesse raised a brow. “Wasn’t it you who wrote a whole verse about how irresistible I am?”

He flushed. “I didn’t write that! It just happened.”

“You’re pretty when you blush.”

Aaron T. tripped over his feet. “What?”

“I think he just short-circuited.” Taeyoung giggled.

Jesse used the small triumph to ignore his problems. “Told you.”

“That's the real reason you’re in the band, to call me pretty.”

“Sure thing, lover boy.”

Taeyoung grew one of his signature devious smiles, and leaned closer to Aaron T. “You’ve always been beautiful, Aaron.”

“Whoa, okay, let's calm down.” 

Jesse fought back a smile as they climbed back down the ladder. 

“Uh, hey Tae, do you see the car?”

Taeyoung halted, and looked over his shoulder. “No, did we get rear-ended or something?”

“It's gone.”

Jesse couldn't decide if this was funny or not. “Did you park in a tow zone?” 

“Maybe..?”

The trio dismounted the ladder. 

“Did we even park?” Taeyoung ran a hand through his hair. “I genuinely can't remember parking.”

Aaron T. patted his pockets. “Ah.”

“What?”

“I, ha ha.”

Jesse blinked slowly. “Aaron.”

“I don't have the keys. I think I might have left them in the car.”

Which meant the car never got locked.

Which meant someone had definitely stolen it.

“Don't look at me like that!” He raised his hands. “I was worried about you!”

“Worry about yourself, you’re calling Ro.”

“Don't make me.”

“You got our car stolen.”

Taeyoung nodded. “You got our car stolen.”

“Unfair! You can't gang up on me like that!”

“Good luck.”

“What if we just call our manager, have them come pick us up.”

Jesse crossed his arms. “You don't think Robaire and Z. are gonna notice that the car is missing?”

“They took the one we usually use, they might not.”

“They will.”

He whined. “Do I have to?”

Taeyoung gave him a supportive rub on the shoulder. “Put it on speaker.”

“You're my hero.”

“I'm not defending you, I just want to hear everything.”

“Hey! You didn't lock the car either.”

“I wasn't driving.”

“Fine, fine fine fine.” He pulled his phone out and sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

It rang twice before Robaire picked up.

“Is he okay? Where are you?”

“Wow.” Aaron T. put a hand on his hip. “No hi? No hello for the man who just rescued Jesse 4*Town?”

“Rescued?”

“There was no rescuing.” Jesse corrected. “Hi Ro.”

He already sounded less tense. “Thank God.”

“Sorry for… that.”

“We’ll talk about it later, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You said that last time.”

Yikes. “I have witnesses.”

“He’s safe,” Taeyoung said, “fine is another story, but he’s not like, bleeding out or anything.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll see you at home then?”

Jesse joined Taeyoung in giving Aaron T. a pointed stare. 

“Actually, funny story.”

“What now?”

“We don't have a car.”

“...”

The silence was suffocating.

“What?”

“Ha ha?”

“What happened to the car, Aaron?” Aaron Z. must've taken the phone. 

“We think someone stole it.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Take a guess.”

“We’ll come get you. Where are you?”

“The agency.”

“...”

Jesse was starting to really dislike silences. 

“Do I wanna know?”

“Yeah, you probably do,” Taeyoung said, “Hi Z., I miss you.”

“Hi Tae. We’ll be there in five.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jesse said. 

***

“You left the keys in the car?”

“Look.” Aaron T. avoided eye contact with the intimidating front seat duo by staring out the window. “...yeah I got nothing.”

Robaire made brief eye contact with Jesse through the rearview mirror. “It seriously baffles me that the three of you make such bad decisions. I can't decide who the dumbest is.” 

Aaron Z. didn't miss a beat. “It's Jesse.”

“No, yeah, it's Jesse.”

He sank further into the seat. “I'm sorry.”

“Tell me again why you left against medical advice?”

“Old habits die hard?”

Aaron T.’s eyes flicked over to him. 

“You chose to leave this time, that’s different,” Robaire said. 

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Aaron T. vouched.

He loosened a little. “I'm not trying to be hard, I'm not mad.”

From the way everyone was insisting they weren’t angry, he was starting to think maybe they should be.

“Can we go back to T. losing the car?” Taeyoung raised his hand. 

“You lost it too.”

“I wasn’t driving!”

“You were in the car.”

“I was distracted.”

“So was I!”

He let the bickering fade behind the whir of his own thoughts. As the city passed, he found himself trying to gauge where each member was at. To an outsider, the car would appear to hold three grumpy boy band members, and two that had a little too much energy, but he knew them better than that. 

Taeyoung was putting on the most convincing act, but behind the smiles and the giggling were the worried glances. Aaron T. was similar, but from the clasp of his hands to how straight he was sitting up, it was clear this whole situation was making him anxious. The stolen car probably only added to that.

Aaron Z. was the hardest to read. He carried himself with patience, turning every once and a while to signal to the T Line to keep it down, but that was almost too normal. 

Maybe he was overthinking it. He was probably overthinking it.

That left Robaire, who he also struggled to read. It wasn't until he got out of the car, put an arm around Jesse’s waist, and walked inside with him, that Jesse clued in.

Robaire had guessed.

He knew.

***

To place credit where it was due, Robaire didn't bring up the leaving early thing, nor the reason why he’d left the hospital early for the first couple of days after. 

Did it make him a little bit paranoid? Maybe, but there was better news! That stupid itch, the driving factor of this whole fiasco, had abandoned him until the next time he inevitably was mildly inconvenienced.

His actual discharge date passed, and with no complications, he found himself with a little bit too much free time. Earthquakes do that to a city. Everything was on pause while things got up and running again.

Apparently, he made the news. The public affairs team let him know that the fans were very worried about him, and sent him kind wishes, at least according to the massive influx of fan mail. The letters currently stood piled on their dining room table, all pre-read to make sure nothing disturbing got through. 

Things simmered down with the other members too. Since he was genuinely, actually feeling better, they stopped fussing. 

Well, okay. He was still technically recovering physically, so there was some fussing, but there were no more questions about why he’d been acting off. 

Somehow, he’d managed to have one of the worst days of his life, and come out of it perfectly fine. He hadn't even had to talk about it.

It was a little too good to be true.

He was never going to complain about things turning out better than expected though. Like most days off, he had ample time to sit behind a wheel, throw some clay, and let his fingers do the thinking.

His pottery studio was far enough from the epicentre of the earthquake to appear untouched, thank God. He couldn't imagine how much damage would have been caused if something had shattered the windows. He loved his studio. Stepping in, smelling the clean air, admiring how the sunlight hit the wheel, it was all a part of the magic.

The theme of the day was apparently bowls, because Jesse had already made three of them, only pausing to wedge more clay. 

He didn't look up when he heard the door open and shut.

“Hey.”

“You've been busy.” It was Robaire, to nobody's surprise.

“Want a bowl?”

He took a seat, just barely visible out of the corner of Jesse’s eye. “I've been thinking we need a new set.”

Jesse chuckled. “I wasn't actually gonna fire these up, but if you can think of anyone who needs one, I’ll happily get 'em some glaze.”

“Yeah? I’ll ask around.”

“I was thinking about making dishes to donate, since, y’know, earthquake, but I kinda just want to create.”

“You deserve time off to fuck around.” Robaire nodded. “It’s good to hear you're taking it.”

Satisfied with how incorporated his clay was, he made his way back over to the wheel. “You wanna throw something?”

“No thanks.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Clean hands.”

Jesse hummed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

They sat in an easy silence together for a while. He started the next bowl, taking extra care to make sure his clay was completely centred before pulling the walls.

“You ever think about leaving to do art?” Robaire asked suddenly.

“You ever think about going solo?”

“Touché, guess not.”

“Mhm.” He dipped a hand in his trusty water bucket, and used the extra moisture to help shape the inside of the bowl. 

“Why’d you go to the agency?”

Ah yes. There was the Robaire he knew and loved.

“To work on a song.”

“After the earthquake?”

“Yup.”

Robaire pulled his stool closer. “That's…”

“Trust me, I know.” He pulled the edges higher, using one hand inside and bowl and the other on the out to maintain an even thickness. “I'm not proud of it.”

“I'm not gonna lie, I thought all of that was left at the old agency.”

“I was born with it.” He would’ve shrugged if he wasn't focused. “S’always gonna come back.”

Robaire went quiet for a moment. Jesse worked on the rim. 

“When it does come back, how can I help?”

That was… a good, surprising? A surprising question. “Uh…”

“You don't have to answer right now, just, you could have gotten really hurt, and nobody wants that.”

“No, I just, I’ve never really thought about that before.”

“Getting help?”

“How to help.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Most of the time, I can talk myself through it,” he admitted, “but this was one of the worst episodes I’ve ever had. When it's really bad, I get stubborn as fuck.”

“No kidding.” Robaire watched as Jesse went back in to adjust the shape. “That was what had everyone scared, you completely shut down.”

He nodded. “Still sorry by the way.”

“What exactly is it, if you don't mind sharing?”

Oh. Right. “Sometimes, I get stuck in this feeling, like, of needing to stop wasting time, get something done and do it well, y’know? But no amount of work makes it go away, it just… passes on its own.”

“Which is why you left the hospital early.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow.”

Jesse took his eyes off his project for a moment. “Usually it’s not that intense.”

“What about at the old agency? When you were sneaking out?” 

“It never went away,” he said, “I didn't want it to. It made me good.”

“It made you sick.”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. “I know that now.”

There was another break. Another easy silence. 

“Since you were a kid, huh?”

“Since I was a kid.”

“Is that why you took up ceramics?”

“Kinda.” He leaned back to get a better look at the shape. “I liked that there was no expectation. Pottery is so personal that way, you know? It’s crafted with the earth and your hands. Every piece I’ve seen that stuck with me has so much personality, and that’s celebrated. It doesn't matter if this bowl doesn't look exactly like the others I make, it doesn't matter if it’s flawed, because that’s part of the beauty.”

It was something he wanted to believe about himself too. He was working on it. Feeling that way about the bowl in his hands was only the first step.

Robaire just watched as he scooped some water onto the wheel, and used his wire to separate the bowl from the metal. Jesse placed it carefully on a wooden board, placed it aside, and grabbed another piece of freshly wedged clay. 

“I'll try to let you know next time,” Jesse decided, “Just in case. It always starts manageable.”

“I’d…” He paused. “Thanks.”

He raised a brow. “I should be thanking you.”

With a goofy grin, he said, “I'm all ears.”

“I don't want to anymore.” He rolled his eyes.

“You can thank me by not hanging up after I get a call that you left the hospital without telling anyone.”

“The hospital staff knew I left.”

“Please call me next time, or better yet, don't leave.”

“If I called you, you would’ve made me come home.”

He tilted his head a little. “Yeah?”

“I didn't leave the hospital because I wanted to go home. I left because I needed to work.”

“Oh.” It finally clicked for Robaire. “Wow.”

“But I'll try, I really will.”

“For the record, I'd much rather go with you when you make bad decisions than know absolutely nothing about where you are.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“Hm.” The idea of having Robaire, or any of the boys with him at the agency made the memory of his… escapade a little less difficult to look back on. 

Taeyoung and Aaron T. showing up did take him out of the worst of it. 

“I think… I think I'll take you up on that. You might have to remind me why it’s a good idea though.”

He smiled. “Whatever you need.”

Jesse found himself smiling too. “You’re a good friend.”

He chuckled. “If only you knew how easy it is to care about you.”

He almost faltered. He had steady enough hands not to, but it was close.

“No sappy shit when I'm making bowls, you almost messed it up.”

“I almost messed it up?” Uh oh. “My hands are all the way over here.”

“You know.” 

Robaire dismounted the stool to stand behind him, resting his chin on the top of Jesse’s head. “I know.”

“You sure you don't want to give it a shot? I haven't really started this one yet.”

“What was all that up and down for then?”

“Centering the clay.”

He hesitated. “Okay.”

Jesse brightened. “Really?”

“But I have no clue what I'm doing so you’re really gonna have to help.”

“Of course.” He stepped away from the wheel, and let Robaire take his spot. “You’re gonna want a bit of water on your hands.”

They stayed at the studio until the natural light stopped hitting the pottery wheel. Evidently, Robaire’s bowl was the only one he planned to fire, in all its wonky, uneven, and charming glory. They joked about making it their dining table’s new centrepiece once Jesse made it through the fan mail. 

Part of him wondered if he would've been so receptive to Robaire’s questions and suggestions if he hadn't been in his pottery studio. It didn't really matter though, did it? They’d made headway, and they’d made it together.

It was almost overwhelming, having to lean on something that wasn't himself, but it was also connective. Whether he liked it or not, Jesse could no longer ignore that he needed his bandmates. They made him whole. They made him the best version of himself.

As scary as that was, he trusted that they weren't going anywhere. No matter how bad the day, nor how far the fall, he would always have them. 

That was the only definition of perfect he needed.

[levi-supreme]

Sfw for Mike zacharias please....?? Her beloved trying to cook a romantic meal for him and end up miserably.. But his too kind and eat all the dinner himself...

Characters: Mike x fem!reader feat. Erwin and Levi (brief mentions)

Warnings: SFW, fluff

A/N: Anon this is so cute omg, I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Also, I do not know your dietary requirements and/or your allergies, so I hope you're okay with the food I'm using here, and I'm sorry if you don't eat them!!

"Mike, darling, could you help me take out the lasagna?" You shouted from the kitchen to your boyfriend who was working on his company report by the desktop.

You recently signed up for a cooking class, and during your fifth lesson, you learnt how to bake a lasagna. Coincidentally, it was also your boyfriend's favourite food. As such, wanting to practise cooking, as well as making his favourite food, you decided to cook it for dinner one night.

You have never ever cooked before, until meeting your boyfriend, Mike Zacharias. Once, Mike told you that one of his favourite feelings in the world was to have piping hot cooked food on the dining table after coming home from a long day of work; the feeling of home. This has motivated you to pick up cooking.

"Ta-da!!! Doesn't it look good, darling?" You smiled at Mike, pouring two glasses of Chardonnay. You have tried making this at home a few times, and you were confident that the results would be satisfactory. "Wait, let me take a photo for my Instagram!" You excitedly took out your phone and captured a few images, before uploading it to your Instagram Story.

"Yeah baby, it looks really good. Looks like the lessons are worth the money," Mike replied as he took his seat, looking at the dishes on the table. Other than the lasagna, there was also caesar salad, minestrone soup, and toasted garlic bread.

"Okay, let's eat then! Tell me how it is!" You exclaimed after keeping your phone, slicing a portion of lasagna for Mike.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"So how did your dinner go, Mikey my boy?" Erwin, one of Mike's best friend, asked. It was game night, and Mike was on his tenth round of playing Counter Strike with his best friends.

"God, lemme tell you, it was bad," Mike cringed while sniping down an enemy from the roof. "The lasagna was too salty, and the soup was too watery."

"But it looked good in photos though," Levi, Mike's other best friend, mentioned. "The photos on her Story looked appetising."

"Looks can be deceiving bro," using his knife to silence an enemy from behind, Mike looked over to his half-eaten cup of instant noodles, sighing. "It looked delicious, but the taste was far from it."

"Well, I suppose with you being Mr Nice Guy, you told her it was good?" Erwin laughed while reloading his pistol. Levi sniggered as he came out from his cover, killing two opponents along the way.

"Of course, I had to, you guys didn't see that smile of her face when she showed me the finished cooking," Mike sighed again, cursing as got shot and had to wait to respawn. Eating his cup noodles, he glanced to the living room where you were watching Netflix on the television. "She looked so cute and proud of herself, and I didn't want to hurt her."

"Well if you don't tell her soon enough, you're going to have to eat shitty cooking for the rest of your life," Levi mentioned as they won the round. Waiting for the next match, Mike looked at you again from afar, a smile plastered on his face.

"If it makes her happy, then I'm more than willing to eat it."

"Okay Mikey boy, have fun with your salty lasagna sweetheart later. Now we gonna go for our eleventh win."

Main event | Event Masterlist

[goldenavenger02]

Peter Parker's Day Off

This story is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and my giftee is @avengersincamphalfbloodstardis so I hope you like it!

Before anyone draws comparisons between this and the fic @marvelous-writer posted a few weeks ago, we've already gotten it worked out, so go read her fic after mine!

Editing and cover credits go to @clover-roseee!

And now, on with the story!

Peter groaned as he woke up, and tried to force himself awake as Morgan jumped the end of his bed again. "I'm up, Morg, I'm up," he replied as rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. His body and head felt heavy, and he had that general sick feeling, so despite how much Morgan's excitement tended to rub off on him, it didn't this time. In fact, Peter wasn't even sure how he could be excited when his chest was tight and his nose was so stuffed up.

Morgan didn't seem to pick up on how he was feeling, though. "Come on, Petey!" she instead insisted, before hopping off his bed and running out of his room. "Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!"

The trip to the zoo had been planned for weeks, and Pepper had even taken a day off to come with (which was a rarity in itself). May had gotten held up at the hospital, too, so it was perfect timing that he stayed with the Starks for the first week of spring break; but while he really wanted to see Morgan lose her mind over lions, tigers, and birds, he still couldn't shake the sick feeling from his body.

"Come on, Petey! Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!" She insisted before running out of his room, singing about the trip.

Grabbing his bathrobe off of his closet door, Peter wrapped it around his shoulders and tried to regain some body heat before shuffling down the stairs. The smell of pancakes hit him as he went into the hall, and he knew immediately that his senses were in overdrive.

When he finally made it to the dining room, Morgan was going over some facts she had learned about lions for a school project and Pepper was looking at the news on her phone, but looked up when she saw Peter sit at the table. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, upon seeing his pale face, and the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

Peter started to respond, but instead let out a harsh cough into his elbow. That was enough of a reason for Pepper to get up from the table in search of the thermometer. Meanwhile, Morgan got up from her chair and ran into the kitchen area. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, "Petey's sick!"

Flipping the last few pancakes on to the large serving plate, Tony cleaned his hands with a dry washcloth and turned the stove off. Then, once that was done, he turned his attention to Peter and, with Morgan tagging along behind him, made his way over. "See!" Morgan repeated. "He's sick!"

"Yeah, I definitely see what you're talking about." Tony ruffled Morgan's hair before placing a hand against Peter's forehead. "And that's definitely a fever." He sighed before looking down at his daughter. "Sorry, Morguna. Looks like the zoo is gonna have to wait for a few days."

"But we have to go, Daddy!" Morgan fought back. "Mommy took the day off and everything!" Just as it looked like that Tony would have to deal with a tantrum at eight thirty in the morning, Pepper came back in the room with the ear thermometer and gently inserted it into Peter's ear. "Mommy, we have to go to the zoo!"

"Morgan's right," Peter agreed, receiving an enthusiastic grin from her. "I mean, you did take the day off to go with her to the zoo…"

Pepper looked skeptical. "I don't know. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself."

"Then how about Mr. Stark stays with me?" Peter proposed, taking a moment to cough into his elbow. Pepper, in return, placed a hand on his back. "You guys can send us pictures, and it'll feel like we're right there with you."

Pepper looked to her husband. "Tony? Are you okay with this?" she asked, as the thermometer beeped. She took it out and sighed when the reading revealed Peter had a temperature of 101.8. "Staying here with Peter?"

"'Course. I've got the spider kid, you two go have fun," Tony insisted, before leaning forward and kissing his wife's cheek. "Like he said, just send us lots of photos. Maybe let Morgan feed a giraffe while you're there, too."

Pepper broke apart from the kiss, and went over to grab her tote bag with her sunglasses, camera and Morgan's change purse full of nickels and pennies. "Alright, try and have a good day," she said, after slipping her shoes on. "Feel better, Peter."

Morgan ran up and hugged Tony tightly, and did the same to Peter before heading outside to the car, with Pepper following closely behind. When the car pulled out of the driveway, Tony turned to the resident sick kid. "So, how does crashing on the couch and watching some Star Wars sound?"

"Can we watch something else? I'm regretting getting Morgan obsessed with it," Peter spoke as he stood up from the table, trying to force the sudden headache that was building behind his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want," Tony insisted as Peter shuffled over to the couch and grabbed the remote. "We should probably get you some Tylenol, though."

Peter nodded, starting to scroll through Netflix. Since Morgan preferred Disney+, he knew he would probably find something he wasn't sick of on there. But his vision was going in in and out, and starting to get spotty, and he was fighting every bone in his body in order to stay awake.

Suddenly Tony appeared beside him, and Peter distantly wondered how he did it. "Here," he said, pouring three white tablets into Peter's right hand, and swapping the remote for a bottle of blue Gatorade with the other. "Take that, and go to bed, kid. I'll find something to watch, you look exhausted."

Dropping the pills into his mouth and washing it down with a swig of Gatorade, Peter wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his bathrobe before doing what he was told. Tony's taste in movies was often better than Morgan's or Pepper's anyway, so he let himself relax and, feeling a blanket being draped over him, allowed the music of whatever Tony had picked lull him to sleep.

•••

"So, what do you wanna see first?" Pepper asked her daughter, as the two climbed out of the car doors. They had spent a little over half an hour driving, and Pepper already had the online map on her phone all ready and set-up. Knowing her daughter, though, she'd probably want to see more of the cuddly animals first, before going to see the creepier ones.

"Hmm…" Morgan hummed and tilted her head as she thought. She definitely wanted to go see the lions, but she was also wondering if they had a penguin exhibit, and maybe a snake one, too. "I dont know! Can we go see the dolphins? Please?"

"Sure." Pepper smiled and gently grasped her daughter's hand in hers, before they made their way inside. "And then we'll go feed the giraffe, like your dad wanted to. Sound good?" She verbalized the plan, trying to make it stick in Morgan's head, but, in reality, she was just wanting to spend some much needed time with her daughter. It was always a rarity when she was able to take time off, and she wanted to make the most of it.

Morgan nodded, but the period of silence was broken by her stopping in front of the snake exhibit. "Mommy, look!" she shouted, bouncing on her heels giddily. "Can we look at these first? Please?"

"Of course." Pepper nodded, took her camera out of her bag, and watched as one of the exhibit employees, per Morgan's request, placed a boa constrictor around her shoulders. "Say cheese on three, sweetie!"

•••

When Peter woke up on the couch, he felt like he could barely breathe through his nose, and could feel the intensity of the pressure in his head. Then, sitting up, he glanced around the room, before trying to peer into the kitchen. "Mr. Stark?" he asked, the stuffiness having apparently spread to his voice with how nasally he sounded. "Are you here?"

"In the kitchen!" the stay at home dad called back. Sighing and flopping back on to the couch, Peter re-covered himself with the blanket Tony draped over him, before he heard a "Shit, that's hot!" and the man himself appeared in the doorway. "Okay," he announced, as he walked over to his sick kid, "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

Peter smirked. "What's the bad news?"

"Bad news," Tony explained, as he set a plate of soggy charcoal-coloured toast on the table, "is that I burnt your toast, and put too much butter on; so, it's kinda ruined now, kid."

Peter chuckled, as he sat up and, despite how terrible the toast looked, took a bite from it. 'At least Tony tried,' he thought. "And the good news?" he asked.

"The good news is that I ordered soup for later—don't look at me like that!—and that I did manage to make sure your Gatorade stayed cold," Tony said, as he set the half-full Gatorade on the coffee table, right beside where the plate previously was. Then, he had taken a seat near the sick teen's feet and patted his knee. "But, it doesn't matter now. How're you feeling, Pete?"

Peter sat up a bit to place the soggy toast beside the Gatorade, and laid back down against his pillows. "My head still hurts," he muttered, trying to warm himself up as he buried himself beneath the blanket, "'nd I've been kinda feeling sick. There's no other medicine I can take, right?"

Tony shook his head. "'Fraid not, kiddo. And, even if there was, I don't wanna give you mixed medications and have to take you to a hospital, so it's not gonna happen."

Peter groaned.

"But, what I can do is let you see all the pictures Pepper sent me of Morgan." Tony smiled as he pulled out his phone, and swiped on over to his 'Messages' section. "There's even one of her holding a boa constrictor, if you wanna see it."

Peter shook his head, remembering his very bad experience with a snake from years ago. "I think I'll pass on that," he said, before sitting up and glancing over Tony's shoulder. "But is there one of her with a penguin? Or a giraffe?"

Tony nodded, as he passed the phone over, and adjusted the two of them, so Peter was leaning against his side, with his head on his chest. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Third and fifth one in. My personal favourites, though, are the ones with the sloths and otters."

In response, Peter yawned, and, after scrolling through all the photos, gave the phone back to Tony. He was getting exhausted again, and assumed, as he buried his head into his mentor's chest, that Tony had moved on to watching the videos Pepper had sent him, so he shut his eyes and allowed Morgan's excited squeals to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

•••

"Alright, honey," Pepper said, smiling, as she fished Morgan's change purse out of her tote bag, "you can pick one thing out from the gift shop, and then we're going to head home." She held her daughter's hand as they approached the small gift shop, located back at the entrance. She was thankful she hadn't lost her daughter when they were visiting the exhibits, but if there was one place where she would lose her, then it was definitely the gift shop.

Morgan took her change purse from her mother's hand, and looked up at her, pleadingly. "Can I get something for Petey, too?" she asked with her adorable, wide eyes. "He's sick and we can get something to make him feel better!"

"Nothing fragile," Pepper negotiated, "and nothing made of glass. Otherwise, you can go nuts and get whatever you want. Deal?" She held her hand up for a high five.

"Deal!" Morgan exclaimed excitedly, as she returned the high-five. Unfortunately, Morgan was five, and that meant she was still rather small, so the high-five ended up being one of those off-beat ones, where they missed each other and ended up mostly slapping the air instead. Pepper still smiled, though, and watched as Morgan made a B-line for the stuffed animals.

'That's a good idea,' she thought to herself. 'Peter would probably prefer cuddling one of those instead of a rubber snake, anyway.'

•••

"Daddy, Daddy, we're home!" Morgan announced, a little over forty-five minutes later, before she slipped off her shoes and bright yellow leather rainjacket at the door. Then, she had resumed running into the kitchen, where she wrapped her arms around her dad's legs. "Mommy and I saw penguins, and sloths, I got to hold a snake!"

Setting down the knife he was using to chop up the peppers and celery, Tony had then dried his hands with a washcloth, before turning and giving his full attention to his daughter. "That's great, Morguna," he replied, as he kneeled down to her level and planted a small kiss atop her head. "But you'll have to tell me everything when Peter wakes up, okay? He still doesn't feel so good, and he needs a lot of rest to get better."

"Okay!" Morgan agreed, happily, before she pulled a grey and white ovaloid object out of her little purse. "We got him a penguin!" She exclaimed, enthusiastically bouncing on her heels once more. "Do you think he'll like it? I hope he likes it!"

Tony nodded, as he ran his hand through his daughter's messy brown hair. "I'm sure he'll love it, Morguna."

"Now, go wash your hands, okay?" Pepper said, as she came up behind her daughter and gently nudged her towards the bathroom. In response, Morgan did as she was told, and Pepper took that chance to heave the groceries up on to the counter, and started putting them away. "Morgan insisted we get juice pops for Peter," she explained, as she opened the freezer and stuffed the box of popsicles inside. "How did things go at home today?"

"Pretty good. He's gotten a bit better since you guys left, but he told me he was feeling sick, so we'll have to keep an eye on him tonight."

"Alright." Pepper smiled and put up the last of the groceries before turning to her husband. "I'm gonna sit in there till dinner is ready." She planted a quick kiss against Tony's cheek before sitting in the armchair that was beside the couch Peter was asleep on, and started to go through some files on her laptop. Days off were always a rarity for her, so she wanted to transfer the photos to her phone, so she could look at them while she was at work.

She looked up when she heard a rustling noise, only to see Morgan come in with the stuffed penguin and put it under Peter's right arm before climbing on the couch and curling up next to him. Watching as Peter unconsciously wrapped his left arm around Morgan, Pepper smiled and waited until her daughter's eyes closed to take a picture.

She'd be thanked, later.

[katedrakeohd]

This is for you @sirbeepsalot 🌹🥀🌺🌻🌼🌷⚘

I've had a bunch of asks in my inbox forever and need to finally get around to them. I was inspired by @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria and her one shot about Drake meeting Camille at her flower shop. I went in a totally different direction, but hopefully this little story is just as fluffy. 💗

....

Paint me a Picture 🎨🌷🌼

Drake hummed happily to himself as he stepped out of his office. He had just finished a conference call with his fellow council members finalizing the plans for Kate's upcoming baby shower. They had put off the party for the past two months amid fears of the Coronavirus spreading into Cordonia. Kate's due date of March 12th was fast approaching and they had reached the decision to reduce the guest list to under ten people. This suited Drake just fine because he wasn't much of a party person, plus Kate found too much attention and fussing around more tiring than exciting at this point.

Checking his watch, Drake realizes that his call had taken him well into the lunch hour and he was quite hungry. The plush carpet of the stairs muted his footsteps as he descended toward the main hall. He could feel the empty space blanket him in its silence, and he wondered where Kate, Hana and the corgis were.

When he had last seen Kate that morning she had been reorganizing the supplies in the nursery for the fourth time. He had chuckled at her restless nesting and kissed her on the cheek before leaving to make his phone call.

"Go get some fresh air and sunshine, it'll do you good."

Kate sighed, rubbing her aching back. "I guess so. I wonder what Hana's up to this morning."

Drake shrugged, "Send her a text to come get you and take your mind off baby stuff."

"Thanks, I will."

..

As he turned the corner toward the kitchen, Drake could smell toasting bread, and the delicious aroma of chicken soup. His mouth waters and he swallows, breathing deeply as his stomach rumbles. The sound of laughter, clink of plates and drawers opening and closing made him smile. Over the past 8 1/2 months the kitchen staff had become familiar with Kate's unusual cravings at all hours of the day. Early on she had wanted salty snacks, and then halfway through her second trimester her cravings had her wanting sweets, during the last month she had started combining the two in odd ways. It made Drake shake his head in wonder, but he obliged her desires. And if Kate was happy, Drake was happy.

Walking into the kitchen unnoticed, he sees the staff loading up a tray with a platter of sandwiches, and a pitcher of iced tea.

"Good afternoon Ladies," he says, and the laughing chatter amongst the women stops.

"Lovely day indeed, Your Grace." Marie the head cook replies with a smile.

Drake eyes the sandwiches on the platter hungrily. He could imagine sinking his teeth into the golden toasted bread, and hearing the crunch. "Are these for Kate and Hana by any chance?"

"Why yes they are. They're taking lunch in the sunroom. I can add another drinking glass and another plate if you'd like to join them."

Drake nods, "That would be wonderful. How about if I take lunch to them then?"

Claire, the young kitchen helper, protests as she sees Drake reach for the tray. "Oh my goodness, Your Grace, let us do that. You go on ahead and we'll bring lunch to you. "

Drake grabs half of a sandwich, "Well, if you insist. I'll just take this to go then, thanks."

Turning around to leave the kitchen Drake raises the sandwich to his mouth and checks the contents before taking a bite. Lettuce, tomato and a slice of swiss cheese. Not bad, but could use some bacon.

..

In the sunroom the atmosphere is that of a bright summer's day despite the dull late winter landscape outside. Lush greenery, tropical flowers and golden sunshine fill the space and give it a pleasant warmth. Off to one side, chair cushions are clustered together on the tiled floor. At the moment they're serving as lounges for sunbathing, sleeping, corgis; but earlier the cushions had served as a comfy surface for a gentle yoga session for Kate and Hana. Now the two friends were standing at easels and painting, chatting back and forth about what to hang in the nursery.

"So you and Drake still don't know if you're having a boy or a girl right?"

Kate nods, "As much as I want to know now, it's still a mystery. Our doctor knows though."

Hana purses her lips in thought as she dabs some blue on her canvas, "So do you mind if I paint a gender neutral landscape instead of flowers?"

"Not at all. I'm still sticking with flowers though. The ones in here are just too beautiful not to paint. If it doesn't suit the theme of the nursery I'll just hang it somewhere else."

Hana rinses out her brush, setting it aside and selects a different one to line in some happy little trees in a dark brown. "I suppose Drake is hoping that you have a little boy."

"He won't admit it, but of course he does. He's itching to go camping and fishing, to kick a football around, toss a baseball with a son."

With a shrug Kate draws in some green stems on her yellow daffodils, "Of course these are all activities he could do with a daughter as well. I remember tossing around a baseball with my Dad in the backyard."

Opening the door and stepping into the sunroom Drake is met by the wall of heat and fragrant scent of flowers. He immediately feels overdressed as a trickle of sweat runs down his neck. "How do you ladies stand it in here?"

Kate turns away from her painting to look at Drake, "Oh Hi Honey, welcome to summer in March."

Under the shade of her Sun hat, Kate is wearing one of Drake's old denim shirts as a painter's smock, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. There's a green smudge of paint on her cheek. Drake notices that it appears that she's wearing little else other than flip flops.

"Uh, Kate? Are you naked under my shirt?"

Kate giggles, covering her mouth, putting another smudge of green on her face. "No silly. I'm wearing a bikini top and shorts." She glances down at herself, "I can see it looking that way though."

Hana is wearing a short summer dress, and her own Sun hat. "You look a little warm there Drake. I wouldn't mind if you decided to take off your shirt."

Kate snickers as she goes back to her painting, "Yeah Honey, don't be shy."

Drake clears his throat, loosening his top two buttons and rolling up his sleeves. "I think I'll just open a couple of windows instead."

Kate watches Drake crank open a window, appreciating the flex of the muscles in his forearms. The fresh air blows the fabric of his shirt against his chest, making it stick to the sweat on his skin. She realizes that he isn't wearing a tee underneath. Probably why he was reluctant to remove his shirt in Hana's company. Drake notices her watching him and gives her a wink as he walks across to open another window. "So what are you ladies painting today?"

Kate feels the cool breeze brush the hair off the back of her neck and she shivers with delight. "Thanks honey, I didn't realize just how warm it was getting in here."

Drake does a quick bow with flourish of his hand, "Always pleased to be of service, Your Grace."

Hana giggles, "We're painting flowers and landscapes, to answer your previous question."

Drake settles down on the floor with the corgis, resting his elbow on a cushion and rubbing a belly as one dog happily rolls over. "I have the pleasure of informing you ladies that iced tea and sandwiches are also on the way, for our lunch."

Hana wipes her brow, "Anything with Ice in it would be welcome right now. I first experienced cold tea when we were in Texas for Savannah's wedding. I wasn't sure if I'd like it."

Kate sighs, "Mmm, I love lemony iced tea in the summertime. I miss it from being back home."

Drake's stomach growls again, causing one of the corgis to give him a look and then retreat to a spot in the shade, "Sorry Fluffers, didn't mean to disturb you. Don't worry I'm not hungry enough to eat you, close but no."

"I could go for a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs right now," Kate says wistfully as she paints a tomato red poppy onto her canvas bouquet.

Drake groans, folding his arms behind his head as he leans back on the cushions and closes his eyes, "Oh stop, you're just making me more hungry."

Kate bites her lip, "Ooh, or pizza. A nice big slice of ole New York thin crust with extra cheese."

"STOP IT!" Drake barks out a laugh, chuckling as he wipes the sweat off his brow. "I ate half a sandwich on my way here, and it's really tasting like another half right about now."

Kate wipes her hands on a rag, "Ooh, what type of sandwich?"

Drake shrugs, "I dunno, there was cheese and some lettuce in there, maybe tomato?"

Kate kicks off her flip flops and walks across the warm floor tiles to stand over Drake, casting a shadow across him, hands on her hips. "And you didn't think to bring the rest of the sandwiches with you?"

Drake cracks an eye open to look up at his wife, his face scrunching up in amusement at her paint smudged face and raised eyebrows. "Hey, I tried to take the tray with me. But I don't think the girls in the kitchen trusted me to get the sandwiches this far without eating a few."

Kate nudges his leg playfully with her foot. "So true. We've all seen how much you like to eat."

Drake growls playfully, reaching out to grab for her ankle but she steps back out of his reach, "Can't help it if I'm a hungry man, c'mere you. I bet you taste like chicken."

"Nah ah, if I get down on those cushions with you I might never get back up. I'm going to wash up my hands and then take a seat over there at the table. Besides I think cannibalism is frowned upon in Cordonia."

Drake smirks at her and rolls over on his stomach, watching her walk away. "Mmm, golden fried chicken. You know how much I'm a breast and leg man."

Hana bursts out laughing, "Geez guys get a room."

Continue on to the next part

[leonardsnartwrites]

The team gets a time off and everybody wants to go to the beach except Sara and Leonard , Leonard obviously says that it id because its too hot and he doesn't do hot and Sara says she just doesn't like it but Leonard thinks theres something bothering her, when they are forced to step out of the waverider Leonard noticed that sara always keeps a distance with the sea and asks her about it, and he realized she is afraid of the ocean cause of almost dying twice in it. Hurt Comfort Captain Canary

Len watched them, had beenwatching them since the Oculus blew and he was supposed to die. Watching andfloating, he watched them fix the timeline they’d broke. Aberrations fixed.Timelines put back on course. He felt a stab of sympathy for Ray and thereturned fiancé that he had to lose all over again. Watched Jax sit with himand break out beers the professor wouldn’t have approved of. They toasted toloved ones and the ones they’d lost.

It seemed almost poetic thatthe time stream chose then to spit him out.

He endured the hugs—barely—and madehorrible puns to cover up the overly emotional welcome homes. He fully met thenew teammates and passed silent judgements that ultimately ended in they’re okay for now. Rash judgementswouldn’t be good, he told himself, not when his mind was still a messy swirl oftimelines and a left hand that wouldn’t quite stop shaking.

“Your eyes are blue,” Sara toldhim later, leaning against the doorway of the room Nate had vacated to give himsome space. He frowned at her and she waved him off. “Bluer,” she corrected.

There was a witty line on thetip of his tongue, one about her remembering after all this time, but he’d seenthe past version of him sweep through their lives. It left a sour taste in hismouth, so he kept it shut.

Better to stay silent thanadmit he didn’t think he’d fully left the Oculus behind.

  They woke up the next morningto Mick parking them in Aruba with gruff explanations that they needed a break.The break part was true, but the assumption the others made that it was acelebration of Leonard’s homecoming wasn’t. Mick wanted a beach and cold beers.If he parked on the beach for Len, it was in revenge for dying, because hispartner knew he hated the beach. The heat burned skin that he’d always said wastoo fair and the feeling of sand against his feet always made him twitchy.

He hung back by the boardwalkwith Sara as the others rushed to the water. Happy squeals and splashing hewanted no part in, but he had figured Sara would be with them. Instead, she wassix inches to his left, hands curled over the metal railing so hard he couldsee her knuckles going white. It matched the pallor her face had taken on, wideeyes staring out at the water with…

Fear, he realized. She wasscared.

He’d seen the stories when theGambit went down, that Sara had supposedly died along with Queen and his bratkid, but she hadn’t died. She’d survived the ship sinking. He couldn’t faulther for being wary of it now. He still shuddered any time he heard glass breakat a bar.

“You don’t need to go in thewater,” he told her as he watched Amaya dive through a crashing wave.

“You don’t have to stay uphere,” she countered, but she looked at him. He could feel her eyes on him.

“I don’t like beaches,” was aneasier answer than explaining the way bad textures sent him off into a jitterymess. She seemed to accept it, though, because she nodded and turned her backto the shore. She was wringing her hands when he glanced over.

“What do you call a vacation,then?”

“Prison,” he replied quicklybefore he moved to an honest, “I like cards.”

“You like counting cards. You weren’t fooling me before,” she accused beforeshe shot him a smile. “Rematch?”

They were still playing cardson the floor of the Waverider when the others finally piled back in.