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#but it’ll probably fix itself tomorrow and everything will be back to normal

justagirl-andherchoices · 2 years

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So I just finished the day 50 fight and here are my very sleepy thoughts:

I feel like mc was valid?? We’ve had plenty of days of teo being like I’m only gonna focus on you and then ghosting us for hours to talk to someone else on the phone or something. Or when he was like “I love you but I can’t talk to you all the time so why can’t you be more understanding” as if we haven’t spent the last month cheering him on for all his random jobs????? And when he was just straight up like I can’t talk to you like this and just left for the night? Ugh boy bye

I doooooooo wish that this fight hadn’t happened now tho. I wish it could have built on a few more days of sorry honey today I’m gonna focus on you! And then getting absolutely nothing from him bc like he just came off of a game show of course people are gonna wanna ask him how it went. And maybe I picked not the best choices bc it did kinda feel like it escalated very quickly so idk

So tldr I think mc’s valid I just think it was the wrong time to bicker over it but also teo completely brushing us off made me grumpy

#the ssum #the ssum spoilers #I will say it’s been the most interesting plot line so far #but it’ll probably fix itself tomorrow and everything will be back to normal #I’d be down with a few days of apologies or whatever

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onstraypapers · 3 years

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delicate | james & grant (cont. from this thread)

@morethanabattlescar

tw: literally everything, we’re the worst. child/parent death, cancer, war, violence, severe injury, hospitals, surgery, amputation mention, ptsd, panic/anxiety attacks, depression, grief, therapy, insomnia, nightmares, negative thoughts, divorce, pretending like they haven't already caught feelings

James wouldn't protest being tucked into blankets and snuggled by Grant just then, or at any point through their relationship, really. It helped that just being in his space was relaxing for him and it took some of the weight of the week away. The invitation made him smile and he slowly made his way through the apartment, pausing to look at art on the walls with a tip of his head. He enjoyed the sight of all the books on the shelves and the fact that everything was actually lived-in.

The sight of the office made him smile, and it told him that was where Grant truly lived but that was hardly surprising to him. Coming back to him, he slid his arms around his waist just to let himself hold him for a moment. "I like it," he told him easily, and that was the simple truth of it. "Did you get what you needed to done for your trip?"

The office was the kind of chaos where he knew where to find everything, but the organizational system probably wouldn't make sense to anyone outside his head. It was also the only place he had any photographs, a framed one of his parents and another of him and May. There was little else about the past he wanted to be reminded of on a daily basis, but he liked the idea of having a more recent one of James if the opportunity happened to present itself.

He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and relaxed into him, skimming his lips lightly over the corner of his jaw because he really could not be trusted to behave himself. "Good. I hope you'll be here a lot. Whenever you want," he said softly. He liked having date nights with him, but he also just wanted him around whenever he had free time or didn't feel like being alone. "Yeah, I'm all set. It'll be mostly meetings." He didn't leave a lot of room for anything else in two days. He hadn't yet gotten to the point where he did more than tolerate New York City while he was there. Eventually, he hoped he'd enjoy it again. It was a beautiful city. "Do you have any plans?"

He tipped his head to give him plenty of room because that was something he had absolutely no reason to deny him when he wanted it too. It was the sort of thing that was addicting and he was wholly alright with it. "You would never get rid of me," he murmured, his hands sliding over his back purely to touch. "My favorite person in a comfortable place that I'd be all too happy to spend time in?" And he wouldn't have to be alone with his thoughts, he'd have someone to share them with that could understand.

Angling his head, he brushed his lips softly across his cheek and temple, resting with his lips there for a moment of affection. "Meetings are awful, but they have to happen, I guess," he teased lightly when he finally pulled back just enough to look at him. "Well, I took a personal day tomorrow, so I get a long weekend, and I'm going to try and sleep," he admitted softly. "But otherwise, not really. The brat has a grooming appointment Saturday, and that's it."

That silent invitation was too good to pass up, and he pressed his lips more firmly against the corner of his jaw. He forced himself to limit it to a single kiss or he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself. He tipped his face into his neck instead and breathed him in, his arms tightening a little around him. "I don't want to get rid of you. I want you here with me, where I know you're safe and happy." Admitting that kind of weakness to anyone else would have at least given him pause, but it felt safe with James. If he didn't already know how captivated he was by him, it wasn't going to be a secret for long.

"An unfortunate part of life," he agreed with a smile. It wasn't one of his favorite parts of his job, but he usually enjoyed the collaboration that came out of it. It depended on the writer, of course, but his experiences were more good than bad. "Good, I hope it helps," he murmured. He worried about him not sleeping, but in the way he knew he couldn't do anything about it but be there for him, the same way James probably worried about him in the past couple days.

He shivered lightly, quietly delighted by the firmer press of lips he was gifted. One hand slid up to drift into the short, soft hair at the back of his head and wrap him tight and close. "I want to be here with you, too," he admitted softly into his hair. "I don't mind being here just for company, whenever you might want." He knew that he would always want to be right here, but he never wanted to intrude on his sanctuary and solitude if it was what he wanted.

"I'll send you ridiculous pictures," he decided with a little laugh, thinking it was the absolute least he could do. His nails scratched lightly though his hair as he considered his weekend with a soft hum. "Normally does. This doesn't usually last too long," he reassured him. Lifting his head, he tucked a finger under his chin to lift his face so he could kiss him lightly. "I'll be alright," he reassured him.

"Whenever you want, too," he agreed. He wasn't sure he'd ever not be aware of James in his space, but he thought they'd get to a point where he wasn't so aware of it that he couldn't do anything else. It wouldn't be hard for him to shift his working hours around James's schedule so their free time matched up a little better than just dinners or the occasional day off. He pressed lips against the soft skin of his neck and lifted his head before he could be tempted to do more.

"I'll send you some too." He smiled. That would be easier now that he felt mostly human again, and there was always plenty to photograph in the city. He usually took pictures for reference rather than fun, but he thought he could get into the habit now that he had someone to send them to. He shivered lightly under his nails and tried not to let it distract him. "Okay." He nodded, trusting him to let him know when he wasn't alright. He tipped his head to meet the soft kiss, fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck.

"Tell you what," he paused for a moment, brushing his lips softly as he thought, "if you're ever not in the mood for company, just tell me that. Otherwise, I don't mind spending my free time here with you. And if I am just not, I'll do the same." He couldn't imagine not wanting to be with Grant, even on his worst days, but the offer deserved to be there, going both ways.

"I'd like that," he admitted, knowing it would make him smile. He didn't even care if Grant just chose to share his reference photos. It was him choosing to share part of his life with him. The soft touch to the back of his neck drew a quiet sound out of him. His brain reminded him that they had plans, but then another part reminded him that they hadn't started yet. His fingers slid firmly along his jaw and he slid them into a firm kiss, shifting closer so their bodies were a solid line of heat.

He couldn't help a smile at the easy way he had of leaving him an out. Grant wasn't sure he needed one, but it was nice that they both had it. Even on the days like the ones this week, he didn't really want solitude from James. He was easy to be around; his company didn't take anything from him like most people did. He didn't know why James would want to be around him when he was like that, but that wasn't his choice to make. "That's perfect," he murmured.

The trip already sounded better knowing that he had an excuse to contact him while he was away. That soft sound had him pressing in closer even as the hand at his jaw became firmer. His own hand slid further into his hair as he kissed him, and it was all he could do not to completely melt into him. He was only too happy to be distracted from their dinner plans for the moment, glad to know that James was as affected as he was.

There was no part of Grant's life that he didn't want to be a part of, the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything that came with it. He wanted him to know that he had someone on those days where all the world was grey and muted, that wanted nothing more than to be there in support and care. For fifteen years, he hadn't wanted anyone else there, didn't think it was fair to ask someone to be. Grant was different, always had been.

He didn't think there was any way James would ever be unaffected by Grant, and definitely not when he was wrapped up in him and being kissed that way. He absolutely melted into him, unable to help himself or keep him from knowing exactly how affected he was by him.

He wanted to be there for James on those days too, for the insomnia and the nightmares and the gray days when it didn't seem worth it to drag himself out of bed. Grant knew he couldn't fix any of that for him. It didn't work like that, not even when you loved someone, but he could be there for it, and that was more than either of them had ever had with someone else.

James's body molded to his like it was meant to fit there, and he still wanted him closer. His lips parted and he deepened the kiss, momentarily forgetting all about dinner or the fact that they'd decided to take this slow. This was exactly the reason kissing him was so dangerous. He'd known the moment he did, he'd promptly lose all his reasoning ability.

Closer, always closer, it's all he ever wanted to be when it came to Grant. He made it easy to forget all the promises he had made to himself to take everything slow, to do right by him during this new chance they'd been given. He was so much of the good and bright in his world already, always had been. It was even better now, and he couldn't help but wonder if the darkness they'd lived through separately contributed to that.

He let himself sink against him, sink into the kiss, a quiet groan escaping him against his lips. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the kiss, softly brushing his lips over his while he caught his breath. "Dinner, supposed to have dinner," he reminded himself out loud, his hand soothing through Grant's hair.

Grant had no intention of abandoning those promises, and he knew that James didn't either. But there had always been a ticking clock on how long they would be able to keep up any sort of physical distance. As impossible as it sounded, James had gotten even more gorgeous in the time they were apart, which was both amazing and completely unfair.

He'd wanted to kiss him since he saw him in the coffee shop, for the past fifteen years, since the last time he'd kissed him like this. Either his memory didn't do it justice, or it was better than he remembered. He thought it might be the second one, since everything about James was better than he remembered. He was breathless by the time he pulled away and grateful that at least one of them could be trusted to keep his head. "Dinner," he agreed. He stole another soft kiss before he moved away, already missing the warmth of his body.

Grant was heartbreakingly beautiful, always had been, but is was even more so now. Growing up, years and life, had done him a lot of good, both of them actually. It had been hard to keep his distance, but entirely worth it to get to this. It was so much better than he remembered, better than he had hoped.

As they separated, he ran his hands down his back softly and tried not to whine at the loss of warmth. Instead, he ran a hand over his arm and gave him a soft smile at the soft kiss. "What are we having?"

Everything about him from his soft smile to the hands warm on his back through the thin cotton of his shirt made him want to close that distance again. There was fifteen years of longing packed carefully away and now threatening to overwhelm him. Only the fact that he'd been dealing with it for so long and he wanted to do this right made it possible to keep moving back until it was just James's hand on his arm, his hand sliding into his.

He brought his fingertips to his lips and kissed them and then tugged him gently toward the kitchen. It was usually stocked for a handful of basic meals, and he hadn't had anything in particular in mind for tonight. "I have the stuff for spaghetti, stir fry, tacos." Or anything else that took similar ingredients. Grant tended to stick to the basics, but he was willing to learn from him. "What sounds good?"

James let out a soft sigh of contentment as their hands wound together just in time for his breath to catch at the soft kiss. He didn't think he would ever stop reacting that way to the soft moments of affection. Following that tug, he knew he would follow anywhere Grant led him, to the kitchen and farther.

He pondered the options presented and let out a thoughtful hum, his thumb stroking along the side of his hand. "Let's do tacos," he decided, "We had pasta at my house." It didn't mean much, since he could eat it all the time, but that was beside the point. "How can I help?"

He half-wondered who they thought they were kidding by taking it slow. He already couldn't stand to let him go long enough to move across a room. There wasn't even a voice in his head telling him he was too attached because the voice didn't bother to state something that obvious. The only time distance from James had ever felt like a possibility was when life forced it on them, and even then it felt terrible and wrong.

He didn't have a problem with pasta multiple times a week either, but it was nice to mix it up. "Is chicken okay? I don't do a lot of red meat. Maybe for grilling." It wasn't even a health thing so much as that he just wasn't that fond of it and never had been. He gave his hand a light squeeze before pulling away to start gathering ingredients. "There are pans in that cupboard. And then pick some music?" He could work all day without it, too far in his head to notice much outside of it, but as soon as he was doing other tasks, he preferred to have background noise.

James hated it every time they had to separate, that deep seated fear that it would be permanent rising up to choke him. Clinically, he knew the attachment was too strong too fast, but emotionally, he didn't care. They had lost enough time together that he was far more invested in the emotional response for himself.

He smiled softly and nodded in agreement, "Chicken is good. I'll keep that in mind." It was an easy mental adjustment for him to make for Grant's comfort, and he'd make plenty more before it was all said and done. Stepping away, he went to pull out thee pans they needed and take them to him at the stove. "Music is a good idea," he mused, actually pulling up his phone for a playlist he regularly added to and had added quite a lot to in the last few days.

He wouldn't know where to begin trying to slow this down even if he'd wanted to. In theory, he supposed they could spend less time together. In practice, he didn't see what difference it would make. The emotional attachment was already long-established, and apparently time hadn't affected it much. What was left was figuring out how they fit into each other's lives now, and more space wasn't going to help with that.

"It's not a big deal." He didn't consider it a rule so much as a habit he'd picked up at home. He set the chicken to cooking and started on the vegetables, leaving room for James to join him if he wanted to. The song he chose made him smile. He had playlists for everything too, and his taste was sort of all over the place, not going too far into any one genre but picking up a little from a lot of different ones.

He wanted stable places for them in each others' lives, an ease of shared space and time. That wasn't going to come with space, but with time together, and that wasn't going to help them slow down much. He would have to be active about slow, and he didn't know if he was going to be any good at it.

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to remember it anyway," he pointed out with a charming smile. He wanted to know Grant's preferences, the things that made him happy, all the small and large things. After the music started, he settled in next to him to help him with the vegetables, a comfortable line of heat against his side. His music slid between various genres, mostly just things he liked and songs that meant something.

Grant was almost positive he wasn't going to be good at slowing things down. That was unusual for him in everything except James, apparently. He took time to think things through, and he usually didn't make a move he wasn't reasonably sure about. But for whatever reason, he'd been sure about James the first time they met, and he was sure about him now. He didn't need more time to think about whether he wanted to be with him, just in how they were going to make that happen in a way that was good for both of them.

"It seems you can't be stopped." He ceded the point with a small grin and a hint of teasing. He wasn't going to argue what was basically James being sweet, even if it wasn't wholly necessary. It was nicer than he could have imagined having him in his kitchen, the warmth and steadiness of him beside him a welcome change. A few songs passed, most of them from different genres or decades. He couldn't pick out a common thread among them, but there was nothing he didn't enjoy so far. "Is this stuff you like lately, or is there a theme?"

"Absolutely not," he laughed and bumped him lightly, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere that settled between them and how relaxed Grant was. "You know I want to know everything, right? The little things you prefer or don't like at all, everything," he pointed out gently. His hand brushed over his forearm and he gave him a little smile.

The question made him flush lightly and clear his throat. "Ah, it's um... important events and people... songs that make me think of them, and also that I think the people will like," he explained carefully. There was a lot on that playlist that was Grant and Grant-centric, had been in every format the list had been in. It wasn't all happy, couldn't be, but that was life.

"Alright. I hate raw onions, mustard, and pineapple on pizza. Love potatoes, all kinds. Can't even think of a way to mess that up," he laughed softly, nudging him back. It was rare to find someone who actually cared about all the small details of his life. It felt strange to share them, but it was the kind of strange he thought he could get used to. He wanted them to know each other. "I want to know everything about you too. Whatever you want to share."

It was unusual to see James flustered by a question. He wasn't sure exactly what about that one had made him go awkward and careful. "That sounds nice," he said honestly. Everyone who made playlists had them about people. He had one for James, even if it didn't have his name on it. Songs they'd listened to together or ones that reminded Grant of him after they'd parted. It was one of few ways he'd allowed himself to hold on, allowed perhaps because he never called it what it was.

He had more questions about it, but not at the expense of James's comfort, so he let the subject drop. When a familiar song from the time they were dating came up, he thought he had a partial answer anyway. Maybe it had other associations for him now, but the song had been everywhere that summer. Even if you didn't like it, you couldn't help but hear it wherever you went. He didn't say anything, but he reached out, lightly squeezing his arm.

“Pineapple should never go on pizza,” he agreed with a laugh, glad they wouldn’t have to do that. It was the little things that made the difference in day to day life. Grabbing someone’s favorite something just because you saw it and thought of them could change their whole day around. He wanted to be able to do that for him, to remember the small things that made him smile. “I hate raw onions too, love mustard but hate mayonnaise. I like dark chocolate, but not white chocolate. It’s not even real chocolate,” he chuckled.

“It was something I started when I first started going to counseling,” he admitted. This particular playlist was like a record of everything he had ever discussed in therapy. He had others, specific ones for people, for certain moods, but this was still his go to option. Self-torment and happiness all wrapped in a single playlist. Some of that self torment wasn’t attached anymore, not to the level it once was, at least.

One of the songs of one of their summers together played and he smiled softly to himself. Rose gold memories flitted through his brain and he looked over at the soft touch to his arm. Leaning over, he gave him a soft kiss. “There’s a lot of you on it,” he admitted softly, “But… you have your own, if you ever wanted to listen.”

"Glad we agree on that," he laughed softly. Not that pineapple on pizza was any sort of deal-breaker. It made him smile to hear the small details he thought important enough to mention, and he made an effort to commit them to memory. Eventually, that would be the kind of thing they'd know without having to think about it, but he wanted to remember now. "Fair enough. No particular feelings on chocolate, except that coconut shouldn't be in it."

Music and therapy was an interesting combination. Not things he'd ever personally linked, but he could see why it would work. "Does it help?" It made him a little sad to know he was one of the things James needed to work out in therapy, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. Talking about it was probably healthier than what Grant had done, which was to compartmentalize that part of his life as hard as he could. He leaned into the soft kiss, lifting a hand to brush through his hair. "So do you," he murmured. "We can trade sometime."

He liked learning the random tidbits of information, adding them to the mental file. It helped remind him that this was real, they were together again in a way he had given up on a long time ago. They had a long way to go to learn who they both were now, but he was looking forward to it. It was a new adventure despite how comfortable they already were with each other. History could do that.

He thought about it, a soft hum escaping him, because the only person who had ever asked him about it had been his therapist and that had been the original one back in active duty. “It can,” he said carefully, “Sometimes when it dredges up a memory, it’s not always a happy one. Most of them I’ve worked through enough that it doesn’t drag me down. There are a few, though.”

He leaned into that touch, his hand coming up to curl around his wrist because he really loved that soft contact. “I’d like that a lot,” he decided. Sometimes it was just easier to say a lot that way, with words and pictures instead of words. He wasn’t quite as good with them as he used to be all the time.

"Music is like that," he agreed softly. Good or bad, it could put him right back in a memory. It was part of the reason he had a James playlist when he didn't have photos out or hadn't allowed the subject to come up outside of therapy for over a decade. Short of cutting all music out of his life, which even Grant realized was unreasonable, there was no shutting that out. There were some songs, on some days, that he just couldn't hear, but most of the time it was one of few acceptable reminders of the past, bittersweet as it might be. "Skip something if you need to, okay?" It was James's playlist anyway, but still, it needed to be said.

"Me too." He stroked fingers again over the soft strands, remembering how much like a cat he was the first time they were dating, a James who would just flop into his lap with his I'm-adorable-please-pet-me eyes. It was possible that was different now, but given the easy physical affection they'd already established, he didn't think so. He'd find out for sure at some point and put that information to good use. He brushed another soft kiss against his lips and pulled away to check on the food before they got distracted and burned something.

"It is. I wasn't too comfortable with it at first, it wasn't something I was used to using as a... language, I guess." He had never thought about it as such before his therapy, and that hadn't occurred to him as thought until years into his service. He had never been good at letting go, at loosening his hold on much of anything. It had lent itself to his struggle after his family had moved, when he and Grant had begun to disintegrate. "I will," he agreed. The inability to make decisions for the sake of other people never sat well with him, as hard as he had worked on it.

His eyes drifted shut for a moment, wanting more of the petting and never wanting it to stop. Grant had always been good at knowing just how much pressure and scratch to put into those clever fingers of his as they worked through his hair, and that didn't seem to have changed. He wanted more of it, but food was on the stove and it made him want to grumble at the inconvenience of it all. If he pouted slightly when he pulled away, he would never admit to it. "Plates?" He worked at getting everything else ready so Grant could finish the actual cooking this time.

"And now?" He was interested to know whether James counted music as one of his languages now. He hoped knowing would help him realize it if/when he was trying to tell him something without words. They were better than they should have been at reading each other, but Grant didn't fool himself that he picked up everything that wasn't said. He wanted to learn to communicate with him in every way that he found comfortable.

He couldn't help a fond smile at the look on his face. It was nice that not everything had changed, and it made him want to drop everything to give him all the attention he wanted. He filed that away for later and loved the fact that they had a later. "There. Glasses in that one." He indicated the right cabinets. Between the two of them, everything was done in a few minutes and ready to dish up.

“Now… it’s one of the easier ways to say what I want to,” he admitted. In his long list of languages he had become familiar with, he could add that to the list. A book, a song, a food, everything someone suggested to a person had bearing, was indicative of their thoughts about them, and he was aware of it. He had learned quite a few ways to communicate but it hadn’t necessarily helped him thus far.

He wanted all of the pets and affection but he knew that dinner was imminent. It helped to know that they had later, and any variance of later that they wanted. He stepped to the indicated cabinets to get their plates and glasses setting things near Grant to be dished up and grabbed their preferred drinks while things finished cooking.

He nodded thoughtfully. He'd been paying more attention to the music since he indicated its importance, but he'd make sure he kept the habit now. "I'll try to listen." He sent him a soft smile, brushing fingers over his hand. He couldn't seem to stop the small touches now that they'd started, at least not as long as they were welcome. But that was a language for them too, wasn't it? One Grant had gotten out of the habit of speaking, but still there.

He enjoyed working alongside James to make dinner as much as he had the first time, and he hoped it was a pattern they could continue. With dinner served and seats taken, his mind had wandered back to their conversation about little preferences. It was sort of in keeping with the one about music too, and there were still so many things he didn't know about James. "Favorite music artists? If that's possible." He smiled. Grant was fond of top 3s, top 5s, top 10s, but he realized not everyone worked like that.

He smiled softly, “I know you’ll hear me when it matters.” He had a lot of faith in that particular belief, that they could understand one another easily with time. They were different than they used to be, but they had always been so good at learning each other. But then, there had been so much less to learn, so much less history to navigate then. He didn’t want the touches to stop, them speaking in a way he didn’t trust himself to yet.

He wanted this to be a part of his normal life, making dinner alongside Grant and talking about whatever they wanted, big and small. As they settled down to eat, he was comfortable and happy in a way that he knew he wanted more of past that night. “Oh… no… that’s evil. Okay,” he wrinkled his nose as he thought about the artists that inhabited his playlists the most. “Five Finger Death Punch, for a lot of reasons,” he finally said, “Halsey… and probably… well heck. “ he laughed when he couldn’t think of any other artists he listened to abundantly.

Grant wanted to believe that he would. He knew it was a failed marriage whispering doubt into his ear that he wasn't good at this, at listening, at being what people needed, and that James would be no different. Maybe he would have ruined them too, if they'd managed to keep it together that long. He acknowledged the fear, tagged it as not wholly rational (and certainly not the kindest interpretation of what had happened between him and Anna), and set it aside for now. Self-doubt didn't change anything. He could only try to do better.

It was too new to have the familiarity of routine, but there was something familiar about it anyway. That kind of summed up their whole relationship so far, somehow new and familiar at once. "Sorry," he chuckled, but he didn't take the question back. If the list needed to go on for a while, he was comfortable with that, so it was a small surprise when he only named two. "Love Halsey. I'll add the other one to my playlist." He'd heard of them but couldn't have named a song. Listening to James's favorite music knowing that it was his favorite--probably tomorrow on his drive--filled him with happy anticipation.

He smiled happily at the idea of Grant adding something to his playlist just because he liked it. “I can send you a good song to start with,” he mused, thinking of a few of his favorites. He was already going to send him a whole playlist anyway, and one was likely to turn into multiple as it was. “It’s hard to think of favorites when I listen to so many so regularly,” he explained the short list because it was amusing to him.

“Your turn, favorite music or artists,” he requested with anticipatory delight. It was exciting, getting new information about someone he had known and loved for so long. He highly doubted he would ever learn something about him that he would actively hate.

"I'd love that." He grinned at the idea of getting to know some of his favorite songs. He was probably going to send him a playlist or two as well. He nodded his understanding. He had a similar problem when it came to narrowing down artists of any kind.

He figured he would turn the question back on him, but that didn't make it easier to answer. A top ten would have been hard; two was almost impossible. "I have the same problem, but if we're going with two? I guess The Gaslight Anthem and The Weepies." James was right; it was an evil question. There was so much left out of that answer, but if the inside of Grant's head usually sounded like something, it was probably that.

James couldn't help but laugh a little and nod in absolute understanding. It was a hard thing to try and narrow down something so broad and wide-reaching as their music tastes seemed to be. "I'll add them to the list," he chuckled, knowing his stuff was going to be flooded with all things Grant for a while anyway. There were far worse things to have in his head, to let broaden the edges of who he was.

As they ate, he pondered another question and smiled a bit when he decided on one. "Is there anywhere you want to travel? Anywhere in the world you really want to see? Anywhere you've been that you love?" He chuckled when one question wound up being three, but he couldn't help it.

He couldn't say for certain they were bands James would enjoy, but it was sweet of him to give them a shot. "I can send you something to start with," he offered with an easy smile. Sending songs back and forth over the weekend sounded as pleasant as sending photos. James already lived in his head almost non-stop since they'd seen each other again. It might as well have his soundtrack to go with it.

"Haven't done much traveling lately. Never made it overseas," he admitted. "You know my mom. She hates flying. It was always road trips growing up." He grinned. It wasn't a complaint because he'd gotten to see a lot of the continental U.S. like that, but it was nothing like James's travels. "I guess I'd like Europe. Anywhere, really. There's so much art. What about you?"

There was very little that James didn't enjoy when it came to music, so he was sure it was going to become a part of his regular music rotation. "I'd love that," he told him with a little grin, knowing he was parroting but couldn't help himself. Communicating in songs and photos was easy and safe, but a great way to share what was on their mind. He was looking forward to the weekend even more now, even though they would be apart.

He chuckled at the reminder of Grant's mom and remembered more than one tirade when they were planning to go anywhere. "Road trips are great. All the clouds look the same from above," he pointed out with a little laugh. Not that he saw a lot from inside a cargo plane or a lot of the flights he took, but that was beside the point. "Europe would be really cool. I didn't get to spend too much time there, and when I did, it was only work."

He laughed softly when they both echoed their earlier conversation because damn it, he was adorable. "I like road trips," he agreed with a smile. He didn't mind driving back and forth to the city despite the traffic. There was something comforting about driving and music and scenery. He had a lot of good memories like that.

Grant didn't have anything against flying, himself. He'd been to Hawaii with his ex-wife. Beautiful, but he wouldn't call it a place he wanted to return to. "Where would you want to go? And was there anywhere you really loved?" He was stealing his questions, but they were good ones. He wanted to know everything about James, but especially the things he loved and wanted.

That made him smile softly, "So do I. Doesn't matter how long or short." He regularly tried to take road trips to visit a buddy from his unit whenever he could, especially if they had something big going on. "Windows down, music up, and a long road ahead," he sounded almost wistful, missing it since he hadn't gone for a while.

"I want to go see Eastern Europe: Hungary, Romania, Russia," he admitted, knowing it probably sounded so strange. "It wasn't an area there was a lot of call for us to be." He paused to think about where he had enjoyed the most and had to really think about any time off he'd spent off base or not on an assignment. One popped into his head and he finally nodded, "Barcelona. I got to spend a few days there on leave. Beautiful city, you'd love the art. The music? Amazing. The food? Even better."

"We could do something like that, if you want," he offered. His voice had gone soft and hesitant. He wasn't sure they were to that point in whatever this was yet, but even friends took trips together, right? They didn't have to go cross-country. It called up a lot of memories of plans they'd made back when they thought they'd have a whole life together.

"What do you like about it?" It was an interesting choice, not one he'd have guessed most people would make. It was James, so of course he wanted to know his reasoning. A pleased smile crossed his face at the idea of him in Barcelona. That had to be beautiful. "Yes! That whole city is art. Gaudí is everywhere. I bet that was incredible."

Hearing the soft hesitation, he reached over to curl his hand over his cheek, brushing his thumb softly. "I would love to take a trip with you," he reassured him easily. What difference did it make if they spent their time together in an apartment or in a car? They'd had heads full of plans together when they were young and planning a life together, and he could recall quite a bit of them. However, he found he was looking more forward to any plans they made now.

"For better or worse, I think they're closer to their roots. Sure, a lot of that is compliments of politics, but, it feels old. And they have some of the best stories," he grinned. He loved seeing his reaction to the idea of Barcelona and swore right then that if this worked, if they worked, he was going to take him. "It was," he admitted, "I liked the architecture too. But I most definitely paid more attention to the food and music. I did go to this one art museum, though, it was spectacular."

"Where do you want to go?" He curled his fingers around his wrist and knew how soft it was when he smiled. He couldn't look at him any other way right now. He kept waiting for this to get harder, or to at least discover something they didn't like about each other, but everything he learned about James just made him want to keep him close. It wasn't that he wasn't flawed; he could see that, but even the imperfections had a kind of beauty. It wasn't like Grant wasn't covered in fracture lines too.

"Alright. History and stories," he summed up, smiling. He wanted to think they'd get to do that together sometime, but maybe they could get through their roadtrip before they started planning internationally. He wasn't that interested in revisiting the past either. Their present held a lot more sway right now, along with this tentative future they were building. "That sounds amazing." He wasn't surprised to hear it, given how much he loved cooking and music. Barcelona was supposedly a great city for all those things. "Which one?"

"We could go to Baltimore," he suggested, content to stay as they were, slightly curled into each others' spaces. They were going to hit rough patches eventually, he knew that, but so far the rosy warmth made him happy. They had their cracks and imperfections, had touched on some of them, so it wasn't like they were hiding from them.

"Exactly," he smiled happily. He could picture Grant there with him, wanted that to be their reality one day. What they were working on had promise, and they weren't hiding from the fact that they wanted it to work, to grow into more. "Ah, the..." He trailed off to think back and recall the rather long name to make sure he didn't mess it up. "Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya, it's like a central museum for all the Catalan art."

"That sounds nice," he agreed. He'd mostly only passed through it on his way to somewhere else. It wasn't too far away, so there wasn't really time to get sick of the drive before they got where they were going. He leaned slightly into James's hand on his cheek and then tipped his head to brush a kiss against his fingers.

"I've heard that's amazing." And more spectacular architecture besides. He was glad he'd gotten to see something beautiful despite his traveling being mostly for work. Dinner seemed to be winding down, and he gave his hand a soft squeeze before he pulled away. "Are you done?" There was more if he was still hungry. He usually erred on the side of cooking too much, since leftovers made for easy lunches later in the week.

“I think so too,” he agreed. It was a nice spot that was new for both of them where they could make memories together and just relax and enjoy a place in each other’s company with no history or expectations. His face went absolutely mushy when he tipped his head into his hand. He knew his heart was on his sleeve with Grant, and he was mostly okay with it.

“It was. Hopefully one day you’ll see it,” he smiled easily even as his mind tried to get ahead of where they were and he had to reel it in. “Yeah. I’ll help clean up,” he decided as he stood up and grabbed both their plates.

A place with no history for either of them sounded ideal at this point. He didn't think this trip was even particularly about the place so much as spending time together at something they both enjoyed. He wanted to hear James's playlists in the car and know what his face looked like with the windows down and nothing pressing on his mind. It didn't really matter where they were going.

It helped to know that James was as soft as Grant was for him. He could read that much in his expression, and it made it safer for him to not try to hold it back. "Maybe someday," he agreed with a smile. It wasn't something he'd thought about much in the past several years. Traveling alone didn't hold a lot of appeal. He joined him at the counter to help with the dishes and put away leftovers in what he hoped was becoming another easy routine.

Softness wasn’t something that James had seen or felt much of in recent memory, but he loved the look of it from Grant so he figured the same applied from the other side. He wanted him to know that he was cared for, that there was someone at his back and in his corner. James was all to happy to be that person for Grant.

It was nice to work alongside him and work at building a new routine. He liked the way they worked together and moved in each other’s space. “What would you like to do when we’re done with cleanup?” He knew neither of them would be too willing to part just yet, if their last date day was anything to go by.

Grant couldn't help but care about most people he came into contact with. He'd always been like that. Letting people care for him was where he struggled. He hadn't been able to count on anyone to have his back in a long time, but he also realized that if he wanted this thing with James to work that he had to try. He couldn't just close himself off and handle everything himself (and was that really working out so well for him, anyway?). It was a little easier to trust him with it because he already knew that he could be trusted.

He loved having James in his space, looking like he belonged there in the kitchen beside him. It made him happy to know he wasn't planning on leaving so soon. He considered the question, keeping in mind that the next couple days were going to be busy for him and that James hadn't been sleeping much, and decided they probably both needed something relaxing. "We can pick a movie, or just keep the music on. I'm fine with anything. What do you want?"

They had already established they were quite content to spend their downtime together so he saw no reason to rush off. He certainly didn’t feel any driving need to do so. James wanted him to go on his trip as relaxed as possible, so that was definitely the name of the game he was after. His own lack of sleep barely registered in the face of getting to spend time with him and take care of him.

He hummed thoughtfully and liked both options. As he finished his work, the song changed and he waited for Grant to be done before reaching for him and taking his hand, pulling him close to sway them into a dance. “I’ve got what I want. Right here,” he murmured softly.

Grant certainly didn't want him to leave. He felt as he had earlier, that he wanted to wrap him in a blanket and make sure that he got rest and snuggles for a while. James had automatically moved into the category of people he wanted to take care of, probably the person he most wanted to take care of.

They finished with the dishes, and he dried his hands, smiling as he allowed James to pull him closer. His heart practically melted when he realized what he was doing, and he easily closed the remaining space between them, curling a hand over his shoulder. He tipped his face close, brushing lips over his cheek as they swayed to the music. "Were you always such a romantic?" he murmured, knowing that he was. He wouldn't have forgotten something like that, or how completely soft it made him.

He was absolutely gone at the way he simply trusted and came close, his heart melting at the soft kiss. Pulling their joined hands to his lips, he brushed them softly together and let out a thoughtful him. “I think I used to be better at it,” he chuckled, thinking back to their first chance. He simply loved finding all the best ways to make Grant smile, would do whatever he could to make that light happen.

He started humming softly to the song, one he’d added in one of his softer, more wistful moments over the last few days. It was all too easy to dance them through the kitchen, his hand drifting down Grant’s back as he pressed a soft kiss into his hair.

"Nothing against past you, but no," he disagreed softly. James had been easier in his skin back then; they both had. Sure, he was more charming and flirty back then, and Grant had been thoroughly swept away by him right from the beginning. He didn't know if he could explain how it mattered more now, or why the fact that a James who made dinner and danced in the kitchen with him, who was willing to accept him like this, broken pieces and all, was more romantic than just about anything he could think of.

It wasn't the past version of him that he was rapidly losing his heart to. He'd loved that person, but James was so much more now. He smiled softly, gently resting his head against his and listening to the lyrics and James's humming while they danced. It was hard to imagine a prettier song, and there was no mistaking the meaning of the one he'd chosen. He pressed a soft kiss to his lips when the last notes faded. Grant paused long enough to choose another song before pulling him back into his arms. He'd said music was like a language for him, and he wanted to continue this conversation.

There was a comfort he hadn’t expected in hearing those words. Past James had been the one to catch his attention, to be at his side for years and make plans for a future they’d lost. When they made their way back to each other, he came full of broken pieces and heartache, heavy with loss and that included the loss of Grant. It had been as permanent a loss as all the rest.

But as they danced now, feeling the real, solid warmth of Grant against him, the soft puff of his breath, it told him a new story that fit with that comfort. The soft kiss made him want to chase after him but he saw he was just going for a song. He slipped easily into those arms again, sinking in and listening to what Grant had to say. This song filled in the parts of the story he couldn’t on his own. Who they had come back to each other as was more than enough. He wasn’t the only one falling, knowing he could trust Grant to catch him and either let him down gently or hold on to him with everything.

Past Grant was always going to be in love with that version of James, but he was a long way from the teenager he'd been. They both were. What he needed out of a relationship now was entirely different. He'd never imagined them fitting together again as well as they did. Somehow, even apart, James had still managed to grow into exactly the kind of person he wanted to give his scarred and battered heart to. He'd never imagined trusting someone with it again.

He took his hand and spun him slowly, the movement easy despite the fact that he hadn't danced with anyone in years, a small smile on his lips as he pulled him back in. If they were going full-on romance, then Grant had a bit of that in him too. He'd been the polar opposite of smooth when they met. He'd learned how to dance specifically for James when they were younger. There was no way he was going to let him go a second time. He was going to keep him safe here in his arms for as long as it was allowed.

When he spun him, his heart fluttered and he was sure his heart was in his eyes when he looked at him. If it wasn’t then, the sight of that smile surely did it. His breath hitched lightly and he slid his hand to curl at the base of his neck, forearm along his shoulder in a way that let him close. “I’m not the only romantic one,” he pointed out once he felt he could trust his voice.

He remembered dancing, both of them younger, smaller, more uncoordinated than now. Dancing with Grant now was like something out of a dream and he added it to his list of favorite things. He never wanted to leave the safe circle of his arms, and he chose to sink into the moment instead. Every moment like this took more of his heart and put it into Grant’s hands, but he was beginning to think it would be okay to do that.

He loved that look on his face, and he wanted to keep finding ways to put it there. He knew it was reflected in his own expression. He didn't have any reason to hide from James at this point. It was already obvious how completely gone he was for him. "I guess you bring that out in me," he agreed softly. It was a part of himself he'd thought was gone forever, but it felt as natural as everything else with him.

As soon as James had pulled him in at the first song, he'd known he was done for. It didn't matter what lines they crossed now. Grant's heart was already his, and he wasn't going to pretend to himself that there was any other way for this to go. Instead of trying to hold back, he'd rather put his energy toward making James feel as safe and loved as possible. He'd swept Grant off his feet once. He'd be glad to return the favor. He tightened the arm around his waist, drawing him close again while they swayed to the music, his lips brushing his ear. "I hope you know I'm not letting you go again."

It made him weak to see what he knew his own face was showing on Grant’s face. His thumb slid softly across the side of his neck as he gave him a soft smile, a silent way of letting him know just how quietly happy he really was. “Careful, I might get addicted,” he teased even as he knew it was far too late for that and he was sure Grant did too. It felt like breathing to be like this with him.

His arm curled around his shoulders completely when he was pulled closer and he tucked his face into Grant’s hair. A shiver went down his spine at the soft touch of lips at his ear and he thought he stopped breathing for a moment. “I don’t want you to,” he admitted softly, shifting to press his lips to the soft skin behind his ears. “I don’t plan on letting you go either. I want you Grant, however I can have you as long as I can.”

"I hope so. I have to keep you with me somehow," he teased back, an easy smile on his lips. Romance was all well and good, but it couldn't single-handedly sustain a relationship, and he didn't expect it to. There were things they were already establishing that were more important to both of them. But little things mattered too sometimes, and finding ways to make James feel special and adored could easily become one of his favorite things.

He pressed his face into his hair and breathed him in, holding him tightly. A small bit of tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto ran out of him at those words. It was a rare thing, the person you wanted most wanting you back. "You have me, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. They'd made those promises before, but he felt like they were in a better position to keep them now. He knew how easy it was for life to tear people apart, but he was holding on with everything he had this time.

“That’s going to be ridiculously easy for you,” he reassured him. The romance was nice, encouraged, but not all he wanted out of their relationship. They were building the important things and everything else was coming along with it. He wanted to make sure that Grant knew just what he already meant to him.

He slid his hand from Grant’s to wrap his arms around his neck, brushing his lips softly over his neck. He pressed close, happy to be held so close and tight. “Neither am I.” He was going to fight tooth and nail for them to be able to keep these promises this time. They were both much more able to do it now than they were fifteen years ago. More than that, he felt something stronger, deeper, that made him think this was more likely to last the way they wanted it to.

It was never easy to stay together, but this was already easier than he'd ever imagined it would be. They were both willing to work at it, and that was the important thing. They wanted to try for each other. He just smiled, brushing a soft kiss against his hair.

He wrapped his arms around his waist, James's body a line of warmth against his. "Good, I want you right here with me. I want you," he whispered, because that was all, really. However and for as long as he could have him, just as James had said. Holding him in his arms again was an unexpected gift, one he didn't want to let go of any time soon, and he was content just to stay like that for a while. Maybe if he held him long enough, it would feel less like a dream.

He knew their life and their relationship wouldn’t always be easy or soft. He wouldn’t trust it if it was. He wanted Grant to be his partner in every way he wanted to be. They both were willing to put in the work and to try and that was worth so much.

“I’ll be here, sweetheart. Every chance and every time you want it. Right here,” he assured him, because this was the happiest he had been in a long time. He let himself drift in the comfort of his arms, grounded in the very real warmth of him. The music kept playing softly in the background, every bit of it adding to the soundtrack of their life together. Idly, he brushed his lips along his jaw, tracing the line of it and marveling at it in his head. He had always been heartbreakingly beautiful to him. Time had only made it better.

He wasn't going to ruin this by thinking too far ahead right now or by creating complications because nothing real should be this easy. He had his hands full even adjusting to the idea that it was happening at all. He'd imagined having James back in his life a thousand different ways when they'd fallen apart, but when years passed, he didn't allow himself to consider the possibility anymore. There was no point in hurting himself over something that would never happen.

But somehow it had. Grant didn't know if this would ever feel like something he was allowed to have, but he was grateful. Second chances were rare enough that he didn't believe they existed, but James was here promising him that they did. "That might be always," he admitted, smiling as he rested a cheek against his hair. He'd almost forgotten about the music, so wrapped up in James and his own thoughts that he couldn't have said what the last song was. His eyes fluttered shut when lips traced along his jaw, and he turned his head, catching him in a soft kiss.

He smiled softly against his skin and let out a happy sound. “I’m quite happy with always, you know.” In fact, very little sounded better to him than having an always with Grant. He had given up on finding an Always years ago, had figured it just wasn’t in the cards for him however much he may want it. And yet here Grant was, again, despite all the odds to the contrary.

That soft kiss was enough to narrow his focus down to one thing: Grant. All of the rest of the thinking he could do about their past, their future, it didn’t matter so much. His hands slid up into his hair to tip his head just enough to slowly deepen the kiss, taking his time to sink into it and pour everything that was bubbling over in him into it.

"I like the sound of it," he agreed. He knew his smile was verging on dopey, but that was fine. No one else was around to see it, and he might not have cared even if they were. That warm, bubbling feeling, it took a moment to identify it as happiness. Before this week with James, it had been a long time since he felt something like that, a happiness that was hard to contain.

Being kissed like that was enough to make his mind go pleasantly blank. The only things in the room, in the world, were the warmth of James's body against his, the hands in his hair, those soft lips that could slowly take him apart. They'd said plenty out loud, but words could only go so far. There was so much unspoken in that kiss that it could easily overwhelm him. He made a soft sound, hands warm against his back through the thin cotton of his shirt as he sank into him.

James had found that, at times, he was better at actions than words. In this moment, it was more to be able to wholly express what he was feeling because he knew that words just didn’t cover it. He knew a lot of words in a lot of languages and there just weren’t enough. Happiness, contentment, excitement, affection, heat, desire, all of it and more were just adding to what they had decided to build together.

That soft sound was a gentle breaking point for him and he slowly shifted them until he could back Grant up against a counter edge with a low noise of his own. The heat of his hands through his shirt, the softness of the hair in his hands, and his mouth under his were his anchors for that moment. There was so much that he couldn’t remember feeling before, a depth and a weight that drove it all and made him want more of him, every time they were together and apart, like he just couldn’t get enough.

Words were fine, good even, but they didn't mean anything without actions to back them up. It would take time to prove everything they were promising each other, and that was okay. This was a different kind of promise. They'd always been good at communicating without words too, in looks and body language and soft touches and kisses. It was like no one else could understand this language but them, and it had been years since he'd been able to speak.

He put everything into that slowly deepening kiss. The ache of missing him, the longing of finding him again, the joy of whatever they were starting here, and the promise that this time they could stay, and they could try, and whatever life threw at them, he just wanted to figure it out with him. His breath stuttered when his back met the counter, but he only tightened his grip, pulling him in close again.

This was a language for him and Grant alone, and they had never needed a translator for it. His kiss made him weak in the knees and one of his hands slid to cup his jaw, thumb blazing it’s own soft trail behind his ear. There was an indescribable joy in it, in finding him and having this second chance, in getting to hold him again.

Hearing his breath stutter that way made heat bloom in his core and he pressed himself against the hard line of his body without a second thought. All he wanted to feel on any level was Grant and that’s exactly what he was getting. A soft whine of need that was as emotional as anything else escaped him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed in a way that made his head swim that way.

He shivered under that touch and the heat that flared so easily between them, as if it had never left. He'd imagined kissing him again, when he was younger and he thought he might suffocate under that loss, but Grant's imagination wasn't this good. It didn't take into account how different they would both be or how he'd want to spend forever learning the new shape of his body, still molded to his like it was meant to fit there. It wasn't more real than everything else that had happened, but it helped ground those things in reality. This was something he couldn't make up.

That soft sound made him feel weak, matching the longing he felt for him in every way. He slid a hand into his hair and kissed him steadily, a promise that he was here, and he had him, and they had time for everything they wanted. His other hand pressed against the warm skin of his back beneath his shirt, not wandering but just holding him there. Grant didn't care anymore if they continued to take things slow. He would do anything James wanted. It wasn't like he wasn't dangerously committed already.

The feeling was completely mutual, wanting to spend forever learning the new shape of him and let it ground their reality. For all he had imagined kissing him and holding him again, he never could have gotten it right. This was entirely new and it was exciting to him to explore and learn him.

He wanted to purr and melt under those attentions, the soft touches. The heat of his hand on his skin, though, that stole his breath and made him gasp softly into their kiss. Grant made his head swim in the best way and he simply leaned into him, happy to be held so close. A part of him wanted to keep chasing that heat, but the other part reminded him that he was trying to do this right. He slowly lightened the kiss before pulling himself away from his lips but allowing his lips to trail down over his jaw and down to his neck. He pressed a soft kiss there before tucking his face into the crook of his neck and letting out a shaky exhale. This was it for him and he knew it, even as early as it was, but he wanted Grant to have the time he deserved.

He wanted to memorize every soft sound and stolen breath, learn everything he liked that made his knees weak and his head spin. That was hardly a surprise. He already wanted to know everything about James, and this was just another aspect of that. Grant let him pull away slowly, for once not feeling the need to chase the kiss. He always wanted to kiss him, of course, but he trusted that they would have more chances.

His eyes fluttered shut as he traced a line of heat down his jaw and neck, his head tipping to give him room. When he tucked his face in, he wrapped an arm around his waist, his other hand sliding through his hair. It was as soft and gentle as it had been heated and needy a few moments before, his breath and heartbeat slowly evening out as he held him close. He had everything he wanted right there in his arms.

James knew they had time to learn everything about each other, even in this. He wanted to enjoy every step and every shift in their relationship. It helped that he now trusted in the fact that they had more chances for more nights just like this one, full of warmth and affection, dancing in the kitchen, cooking together.

It was a new feeling, being held this way and just not wanting to move away from it. This was even more precious to him than the heated moments they’d just shared. This was trust and comfort and everything he wanted. His arms slid to curl around him as he simply basked in his warmth and relaxed entirely.

There was nothing he would have changed about this night. It was already perfect in a way that felt almost fragile, but learning to trust again after they'd both been so hurt was always fragile. Even if they'd been married ten years, he thought it would have been that way. Loving something went hand in hand with the fear of losing it, and they'd both lost a lot.

He loved how completely relaxed James was in his arms, trusting him to hold and comfort him. He valued this more too. It was shelter and safety, and maybe not love yet, but close enough that the difference didn't matter much to him anymore. He relaxed into his warmth and pressed a soft kiss against his head, fingers stroking a gentle path through his hair.

Loss had made James careful, probably too much so to be healthy for him, but it had made his love that much more fierce when he gave it. He didn’t want this to be added to the list of losses again. There was hope and home available to him now in a single person and tonight was an example.

If there was anyone in the world James would trust with all of him, it was the man currently holding him. The soft kiss and pets made him him softly in pleasure at the sensation and he snuggled in. “Movie and cuddles?” The suggestion was born of a need to stay close but a desire for them both to be able to stay comfortable.

Grant did a good impression of being well-adjusted, but when it came to personal relationships, he had a tendency to hold people at a distance, even his friends. He recognized it as a thing he needed to work on, but it was safe. He didn't need more disappointment at this point in his life. He didn't know how he'd managed to do a 180 with James and let down every single wall he had in under a week, but it was worth everything they were risking to stand here and hold him like this.

Snuggly James was one of his favorite things, and there would have been protesting if he proposed anything that involved more space between them right now. "Mostly cuddles," he agreed, pressing a few more kisses against his hair. He reluctantly unwrapped an arm from him to pause the music, leaning forward to brush lips against his neck as he tucked the phone back into James's pocket. There was a fine line between cuddling and flirting, and Grant was a pretty good multitasker.

“Mostly cuddles,” he agreed happily, knowing he was only going to give any movie they turned on his partial attention. He enjoyed the press of kisses and thought he could used to those all too easily from him. It was all he could do to keep himself from pouting when he shifted away but it was definitely helped with how his phone was returned to his pocket.

His head tipped and his breath caught, his hands lifting to curl around his hips. “Thank you,” he smiled slowly, brushing his thumbs slightly under his t-shirt to catch his hipbones before turning him towards the living room. “Turn on whatever you’d like,” he requested, stepping up behind him to brush his lips lightly over the back of his neck.

"Happy to help." A slow smile spread across his face too, a trace more mischief in it. A small shiver ran through him at the ghost of lips on his neck, and he couldn't help leaning back into him a little. He'd started it, so that was fair. Rather than wrap James around him like a blanket, he slid a hand into his and pulled him to the couch.

He picked up the remotes and took a seat, holding out an arm for him to join him. "What do you like?" He clicked through some movies, looking for something pleasant but easy to ignore. Grant tended toward things with happy endings: Disney, musicals, superheroes. He had enough drama and sadness in his real life not to appreciate it much in his fiction.

The mischievous smile did things to him and it sent a little shiver down his spine, delight and anticipation filling him at the sight of it despite himself. He liked the way he leaned back into him and happily would have become a human blanket for hun. He was content enough to curl his hand around Grant’s and go with his pull. After all, that tug meant more cuddles and closeness and that was exactly what he was in the mood for.

He settled down next to him, curling under his arm and tucking his legs over his lap with no hesitation. “Something happy,” he decided with a little hum, “How about we go Disney?” He was unashamed of his love for Disney movies. He liked action movies too, but even those he wanted to see happy endings. Sci-fi and fantasy films were also always on the docket for him to watch.

He smiled as the weight of his legs settled over him, and he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shifting until they were both settled in close. With someone he cared for, Grant was a major cuddler. Tangled on the couch, soft kisses, playing with hair. It wasn't something he'd had much of for a long time.

"Always good," he agreed, flipping to the right channel. He wasn't sure he trusted someone who said they didn't like Disney. Didn't sound like his kind of person at all. He settled on Lilo & Stitch because it was near the top and set the remote aside, wrapping that arm around James too.

It would likely surprise Grant to learn that James was very much out of practice with cuddling or close human contact in general. It had been a very long time since he had simply curled up and cuddled with anyone. This, though… this felt like coming home. Grant felt like home. Like peace. He hadn’t had either for a very long time.

“That was my thought too,” he murmured softly, already melting against the warmth of him and pillowing his head on his shoulder. Seeing the movie made him smile softly, as it was one of his favorites. “I love this one,” he told him quietly, his arms wrapping around him as he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the relaxing scent of him.

Grant was out of practice as well. There was no one he'd wanted this close to him for quite some time. Even his last couple years of marriage hadn't included much softness, which in hindsight should have been a red flag. Caught in the middle of it, he couldn't see anything past his grief. Being curled on the couch with James was a bit of long-needed comfort.

"Me too." He smiled, brushing a kiss against his hair. He'd practically memorized this movie and didn't need to pay close attention to follow it. It was more like comforting background noise while he let his mind and body relax. It had been a weird week, to put it lightly, and he didn't want to think about anything more complicated than Disney aliens and the man in his lap for the rest of the night.

He wanted more nights exactly like this one, cooking and dancing and ending curled together in simple closeness and comfort. He had a feeling that Grant needed it as much as he did. James could imagine many a night spent with a Disney film on just to relax to and do absolutely nothing but be together.

A weird week was putting it mildly, in James’s opinion. His world had been flipped on its axis, everything he had been doing seemed lonely now and he wondered if he’d simply been blatantly ignoring it. Therapist: One. James: Zero. The arm across Grant’s front lifted so he could slide his fingers softly over his neck and shoulder in an idle pet, occasionally sliding high enough to brush through his hair. He only gave the movie partial attention, knowing it by heart, and gave most of his attention to the man he was practically laying on.

He did need it, more than he'd wanted to admit before now. His therapist kept telling him people weren't meant to be alone, and he kept telling her that he wasn't. He had colleagues and friends, people he hung out with semi-regularly, and they both knew that wasn't what she meant. He didn't romanticize being alone, but it was hard not to be grateful they'd both been unattached and could give this a chance.

His fingers brushed a lazy path over his arm, and he occasionally pressed another soft kiss into his hair. His mind was wandering back to this is too good to be allowed, and the small touches helped ground him in reality. About halfway through he moved his legs up onto the couch and shifted to lie down, reaching to pull James down with him too if he wanted to come.

It was easy to drift on the soft wave of relaxation the soothing touches and warmth brought. He wasn’t really asleep, but he knew he wasn’t very alert. It was the first time in a long time he felt comfortable and even more… safe. It felt like something out of a dream, but his best dreams never felt so solid or so full of happiness the way this did.

When Grant shifted, he didn’t even pause to consider and simply shifted with him. He more sprawled on top of him rather like a blanket than laid down beside him, his hand sliding just under his shirt to rest on the warm skin of his side, the other tucking slightly under him. His head went to his shoulder and the crook of his neck, burrowing in with a soft sound.

It filled him with a gentle happiness the way James just made himself comfortable, no awkwardness or hesitation, as though he was exactly where he was meant to be. There was something deeply comforting about the weight of him and the warmth of the hand on his side. He reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and tugged it over both of them.

He pressed a kiss to his forehead and curled an arm around his waist, the other reaching up to drift idly through his hair. If he had an evil plan, it was getting James relaxed enough to sleep. He worried a little about his insomnia. It might have been working a little too well though, since he was feeling relaxed and sleepy enough to drift off himself.

Meant to be or not, James was precisely where he wanted to be. That alone was enough for him to question absolutely nothing. As the blanket drifted over the pair of them, he let out a quiet hum of contentment and snuggled closer. He must have been a cat in another life, the way he preferred to cuddle in and be petted.

His eyes drifted shut at the soft strokes through his hair combined with the kiss. It was something out of his most far fetched but wanted dreams and he wanted it to be real too much to question it. For the first time in days, he felt the pull of sleep and tried to fight it for a little while, letting his eye flit between the screen and Grant’s face. It wasn’t long though before it took over and he drifted off into a soft sleep, his body going entirely lax atop him.

He remembered nights like this from before, how soft and snuggly James was with him, but he hadn't allowed himself to remember too vividly. For so long memories like that just hurt. It was coming back clearer than ever now, with more fondness than pain. He wanted to give him all the snuggles and pets he could possibly want.

He divided his attention between the movie and James as well, aware when he started to doze and not doing anything to disrupt it. He needed the rest, and Grant was happy he was comfortable enough to sleep even a little. He kept up the slow path of his hand through his hair until he started to feel drowsy too, and then he curled that hand over his shoulder and drifted off, the familiar dialogue a comforting background noise.

This was special to Grant and only Grant. He couldn’t remember relaxing so entirely or sliding so easily into sleep with anyone else. But then, he had never found anyone in his younger days or older, that he connected with as easily and as deeply as he did with him. He’d tried to force the memories away so often but it hardly worked. Now he was kind of glad because he was able to enjoy them on a whole new level.

He barely registered the slight shift in positioning or the cessation of pets, he was so deep into that soft sleepy place. Over the years, sleep had gotten progressively harder to achieve and he knew that he shouldn’t entirely give in here but he wanted to. He wanted to trust Grant with his sleep, with his most vulnerable moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Grant already. He didn’t trust himself not to ruin it when his subconscious took over and sleep was less than sweet.

Grant had done his best to move on after James enlisted, and by most accounts, he'd been successful at that. He'd loved Anna; of course he had. He wouldn't have married her if he didn't. It was different though, slower and quieter and based more on familiarity and time than the sort of overwhelming, immediate connection he'd had with James. He'd always been in a category of his own.

They hadn't spoken in depth about the insomnia or the nightmares and PTSD that likely came with an injury like his. Grant only worried about it as far as it affected James, and whatever he might be able to do to help him in a situation like that. Nightmares were pretty regular for him too. It wasn't on his mind at the moment as he drifted in and out of sleep, James a warm, welcome weight over him. He must have dozed more than he realized because the next time he opened his eyes, the movie was back on its starting screen and he didn't remember seeing the end. He didn't feel any particular inclination to move though.

Genuinely, James hadn’t cared about moving on. He hadn’t had time for a relationship in all reality, with how he thrown himself into his career once he had realized he didn’t really have another choice. It had been easier and preferable to be married to his job, especially after the loss of his mom and Kim’s fiery independent streak.

He knew that eventually, he would have to talk to Grant about his PTSD, the insomnia, everything that came with it. He would have to tell him what it was like in those darkest moments of his mind and memories that he couldn’t shake and likely never would. He hadn’t spent the night asleep in a bed with anyone since his career ending injury, so he wasn’t at all sure about what it would be like for Grant. The warmth under him was a welcome one, firm and comforting. Waking up to the heavy weight across his back was new and he froze for a moment, hands tightening, before it all came back to him. He had to force a few slow, deep breaths and unlock his muscles as he reminded himself he was safe and everything was okay.

They had plenty of time to talk about the darker parts of their history. Grant wanted to hear all of it. He wanted to know him, even the shadowed parts, even of there was nothing at all he could do to help. Not every fracture line could be painted back together with gold. Some things would just always hurt, but he still wanted to know them. At least he wouldn't be alone with it anymore.

Drifting between awake and asleep fell abruptly into awake at the sudden tension in him. He wasn't sure if moving would help or make it worse. He compromised by waiting until James seemed more alert, and then he smoothed a hand back through his hair. "Okay?" he murmured. He stroked fingers over the back of his neck, lightly soothing.

The soothing touch helped him relax again, sinking back down against him in a loose puddle of limbs. He knew he wasn’t alone, knew that he could talk to Grant about it if he wanted to just then. All of his broken parts couldn’t be smoothed, they couldn’t all be put back together in a way that made sense or was inclined to stay together. He could only hope that they could make it through the learning of it all together.

“Now I am,” he said quietly, pressing his face into his neck. His hands smoothed over his sides under the soft cotton of his shirt in a gesture of gratitude. Lips brushed a soft kiss over his neck and he exhaled softly. “I haven’t slept with anyone since…” he rotated his shoulder slightly and sighed lightly.

He doubted there was anything James could tell him that would make him walk away. Everything he'd learned about this new version of him just made him want him more. Not the easy, idealized version in his memory, but the real man, the one who'd been broken but was still braver and sweeter than anyone he'd ever met. It wasn't like Grant was still in factory condition either.

He curled his arms a little tighter around him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His hand kept up its slow path through his hair. It made him a little sad to hear he'd been alone all that time, and a little warm that he felt safe enough to fall asleep here. "You can stay, if you want. I want you to be able to sleep though." He didn't want to add to his sleep trouble by asking him to stay in an unfamiliar place or share a bed when he was used to sleeping alone, but he wanted him to know he was welcome.

He felt the comfort and care in that hold, the soft touches. It didn’t make him sad to think of the time he’d spent alone, since he has spent so much of it healing and not in any mental place good for another person. When he stopped to consider his sleep over the week, this was among the best and it was slightly startling to consider.

He lifted himself up just enough to look at Grant’s face properly. “I’d ask if that’s what you really want, but since I know it’s what I want, I have a feeling it’s mutual,” he murmured, his voice careful and thoughtful. “Instead I’ll ask… do you think it’s a good move for us right now? If it’s yes, I’m staying. If it’s no, then I’m going home. I promised you, sweetheart, we would do this right.” He brushed his hand softly along his cheek. “Don’t think about anyone else’s ‘normal’ timelines. For you and me, us and this thing we’re building, is it a good move?”

He was so beautiful, even in the dim glow of the tv, that it made his chest ache to look at him. He traced the side of his face, thumb brushing along his jawline. "I don't know. I don't trust myself to be objective about you," he admitted with a small smile. He didn't know what was good for them at this point. They probably wouldn't know for a while. He just knew he wanted him there.

He tipped his head forward just far enough to kiss him softly. "I can promise that if you stay, it's just for sleep. I'll behave. I don't want to rush this either." He still wasn't sure that it mattered anymore, as wrapped up in James as he already was, but he would never push him for anything. If they decided not to cross a line, then he wouldn't cross it.

There was no part of him that wanted to go home, to attempt to sleep in a cold, lonely bed when he knew he could be right here. He brushed soft touches purely because he needed the contact even while he tipped his head into that soft touch. “Oh lucky, we’re both terribly attached,” he murmured, a gently teasing note in his voice.

He hummed quietly into the kiss, leaning into it just a little bit. It wasn’t so much a concern about rushing anymore. His heart had done that and there was nothing to do to stop that. “I want to stay,” he told him softly and barely kept himself from saying that was a promise he didn’t need or want. Leaning in, he kissed him slow and let the kiss say it instead. He was safe, happy, and wanted and he wanted Grant to feel it too.

He was trying not to think too hard about James leaving. He knew he was going to miss him as soon as he left, whenever that was, and he decided that was a problem for another time. He smiled, knowing James was teasing, but he did feel lucky when it came to this. How often was the person you were terribly attached to just as attached to you? It was like winning the lottery, except he hadn't even been playing.

"I want you to stay." He murmured the words against his lips in between soft kisses. Grant wasn't expecting him to kiss him in a way that immediately challenged that promise, but maybe he should have. It wasn't James who had promised to behave, after all. He melted a little into it, his hand resting against the warm skin his back just beneath his shirt. Worth whatever torture he had to endure to keep him.

“Then staying it is,” he decided, completely content with their choice. Soft kisses and warm touches melted into something more in his chest as he purposely prodded at that heat to see if it would flare up again. He was already glad that Grant wanted him to stay because leaving was the absolute last thing he wanted.

He slowly lightened the kiss as easily as he’d deepened it, his hands brushing a soothing trail over his sides. “Sorry, had to,” he smiled slowly, brushing a kiss over his cheek.

He made a soft sound as the kiss deepened, his hand sliding further into his hair and the other tracing a soothing pattern over soft skin. Mixed with their sleepy cuddles, it wasn't quite the heat of earlier, but it was there, easily called to the surface if they wanted it. Grant had a feeling that would always be the case. He'd always been hopelessly attracted to him.

He huffed a quiet laugh as he pulled away, not altogether surprised to hear it was intentional. He didn't look at all sorry, but neither was Grant. If he wanted to wind him up, he could think of way worse ways to spend the night. "Troublemaker," he murmured fondly, tipping his head to press a kiss against his jaw.

It was so easy to give in to the endless attraction he had for Grant, the endless well of warmth and want he had always had for him. He liked how they could slide from soft and sweet to something heavier and then right back. Nothing they’d had before had really prepared him for how he felt now, how easily he could respond to Grant’s hands and lips.

He liked the sound of his soft laughter, a soft slightly dopey smile threatening to take over his face. “Mmm, you like it,” he snickered softly as he shifted his head to give him room in encouraging invitation. “Do you want to stay right here for a little while? Or more comfort?”

He was beginning to think soft and sweet might be their resting heart rate, the default setting they returned to in between everything else, and that sounded like a good way to spend the rest of his life. He tried not to look too far ahead, but the immediate future looked a lot better with him in it.

"I do, in fact," he agreed, taking the invitation to press a line of soft kisses down his neck. He liked James teasing and laughing, but he'd yet to see a side of him he didn't like. He pulled away before the urge to do anything more could overwhelm him. Trying to keep his promise would not be helped by Grant's desire to keep flirting. He settled back, thumb stroking softly over his back. He was comfortable and didn't really want to lose the reassuring weight of James over him, but he did want him to get a decent night's sleep. "More comfort," he decided.

James already looked more forward to his future with Grant in it than he had for a while. It was easy to get caught on autopilot and not really pay attention to the future even as it continued to come closer. “Oh good, then I can keep it up,” he teased, trying to ignore the shivers those soft kisses caused. He was absolute putty for Grant and he was happy to be.

Part of him wanted to pout at the idea of moving, but wanting Grant to be equally comfortable mattered more. “More comfort it is,” he agreed softly, pushing up and taking his hands to pull him up with him. He could always just flop on him in bed anyway. At least that way, Grant was laying on something soft and comfortable and he could be a ridiculous human blanket again.

Thinking too far into the future got dangerous for him, even before he met James again. It was enough for him to focus on making his day to day life tolerable without the pressure of thinking about the rest of it. "I hope so," he murmured against his skin. Even if it tormented him a little, he was here for it.

He allowed James to pull him up and managed not to groan in protest. It was his idea to move, but Grant acknowledged that sometimes his ideas were really stupid. He turned off the tv and swiped his phone off the counter on the way to the bedroom, making sure his alarm was set for the morning before he set it aside and crawled into bed.

He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face at the quiet murmur against his skin. He would absolutely enjoy tormenting Grant but he would be entirely happy to be tormented by him if he was in the mood to do so. Though, true torment would be no intent to follow through, and that was something he could never subject either of them to in this.

Relaxed, he watched with soft eyes as Grant trailed through turning things off. He knew he would wake up with him, so didn’t bother with his own alarm as he trailed after him. When he crawled into bed, he waited a beat before crawling in after him and draping himself right back how he had been on the couch with a little sound of satisfaction.

He made grabby hands for him, pouting a little himself at the small hesitation. The only reason he'd been okay with getting up was because he knew he'd have him back in his arms shortly. It was a brief warning of how bad this was going to be for him when they did have to say goodbye. There was going to be a lot of reminding himself that he was an adult who didn't need a permanent boyfriend-shaped carry-on.

He made a happy sound when James collapsed against him again, arms wrapping around him and face snuggling into his hair. He pressed a kiss to the soft spot behind his ear, fingers tracing a light path through his hair. He'd never thought he'd get to hold him like this again. Twice in one night seemed almost too good to be true, but he wasn't questioning it for now. Better just to take good things as they were given to him, and deal with the bad the same way.

James was quite content to be turned into a permanent boyfriend backpack and never have to leave Grant’s side. He didn’t really ever want to have to say goodbye, however temporary, but he knew that was going to be their eventual reality. He loved the sight of that pout, but hated that he had put it there at all.

A soft shiver escaped him at the kiss behind his ear and he snuggled in with a happy noise. Twice in one night for cuddling like this was absolutely unheard of for him. He brushed his lips over his neck and shoulder softly, tucking his hands back under his shirt against his side. “One Jamie blank or,” he murmured quietly.

He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's separation, but he also trusted that they'd manage it and still find ways to be close. Knowing he had reasons to be in contact with him all weekend was reassuring, as were their plans for Sunday. He told himself not to turn into that guy, the kind who only existed as half a relationship, but for now he wasn't going to worry too much about something that was making both of them happy.

"My favorite kind," he murmured back, lightly stroking the soft skin just beneath the edge of his shirt. It was better than a weighted blanket, and he was guessing just as good for anxiety. He felt relaxed and safe under the warmth of him, the soft touches and kisses reassuring him that he was there and this was real; he wasn't just going to vanish when he woke up.

He could never just go radio silent on Grant, especially not now. Songs, photos, text messages, they were all things he would fill his weekend with to share his life with him even though they weren’t together. He didn’t think either of them would turn into those people, they both led their own lives already and he would never ask him to give that up. They made one another happy, and they deserved to celebrate that, but they were both more than that.

“I’ll be your blanket any time you like,” he assured him. It was comforting for him as well, and it was so easy to sink into him. “I’ll be here, sweetheart, all night,” he reassured both of them that this wasn’t a dream. “We can have breakfast before you leave,” he suggested.

"Happy to return the favor." He smiled, glad to make himself available for cuddles at any time. The reassurance made his throat unexpectedly tight, with that uncanny ability James had to guess where his mind was. Grant had considered that maybe he'd snapped and was making all this up, but if that was the case, his mental breakdown was years too late. He didn't say anything, instead sliding both hands over his back beneath his shirt and wrapping his arms a little tighter around him.

His face dipped into the crook of his neck, and he pressed a soft kiss there. "I'd love to have breakfast with you." He thought it might ease the separation a bit, or at least give them time to wake up and adjust to the idea, much as he wanted James to get some proper rest. He hoped he'd be able to go back to sleep once he left if he needed to.

James had no way to be sure that he wasn't entirely out of his mind except for the warmth and firmness of Grant's body under him. He didn't think a mental break could be quite that real, especially not with anything he hadn't had before that night. His fingers slid so they were tucked under his sides, his thumbs brushing soft paths back and forth.

"Good, I can make sure you're okay before you leave," he murmured softly. It was important to him to know that Grant was okay and taken care of in any way that he could manage it. He knew he wouldn't leave before Grant did, not in a million years. "And it makes our time apart even less," he said, feeling a little triumphant over t.

"I'm better than okay," he assured him quietly, still warmed by the fact that James wanted to take care of him as much as Grant wanted to care for him. It looked like a lot of things: snuggles and soft kisses, making sure he got a decent meal or a good night's sleep, texing while they were apart, or just being there to share it when life got heavy. They'd both lived without it for a long time and knew it was possible. Grant just didn't want him to have to anymore.

His hands stroked a lazy path in response. He was probably incapable of stopping it at this point. Touching him was as natural as breathing. He hummed softly in amusement, unable to help a smile. "I see your master scheme now," he teased. He wasn't sure who was more guilty of trying to get more time with each other. More fun that it was a team effort, anyway.

"I would like to keep you that way," the admission was soft and accompanied by a soft kiss to his neck again. He'd lived so long without someone there caring for him or for him to care for that he wasn't sure he'd find a way to mess it up eventually. He just had a visceral need to take care of Grant that he couldn't, and didn't want to, shake.

The soft touches made him sigh happily and snuggle closer as though it would get him more of them. He liked hearing him amused and happy and it made him smile against his skin before picking himself up just enough to look at his face. "Yep, big plans right here," he smiled slowly before leaning in to kiss him softly.

He shivered slightly under his lips and the soft, earnest way he said that. If James thought he wasn't very good at being romantic, he was wrong. Grant could think of few things more romantic than I want to take care of you and meaning it. It wasn't something he could have understood at nineteen, but he understood it now. "Me too, sweetheart," he whispered.

Snuggling closer would always get him more pets. He pressed soft kisses against his hair, his hand tracing a lazy path up and down his spine. "I don't mind as long as I'm part of them." He couldn't do anything but smile back. He was so goddamn adorable it was practically a crime. He tipped his head into the kiss, soft and lingering.

He was already addicted to the feeling of Grant's hands running through his hair, the soft kisses there, all of it. He wanted to arch into the hand leaving soft trails of heat over his spine, but he also wanted to press closer. It was a ridiculous conundrum he found himself in but didn't want to not have.

Lingering over that soft kiss was sweet and he never wanted it to end. He did pull back just enough to talk, his lips brushing his still slightly. "Baby, you're all of my plans," he admitted, his voice a little husky with it.

Physical touch was a cornerstone they'd both been without for a while. He'd let himself forget how much he needed the soft brushes of hands on skin or the warm weight of another body next to him. He thought he could easily spend the rest of his life just holding James close, trading soft kisses, and talking about nothing, which was somehow everything.

It was hard not to chase his lips this time even though he didn't go far. He couldn't tell if it was his voice when he said it, or the baby because his pet names had always had a way of melting Grant from the inside, or the way he knew James meant everything that he said, but the words sent a hot slide of heat down his spine. He freed one of his hands to slide it into his hair, letting a little more heat into it as he caught his lips in another kiss.

There was no way he would ever be able to keep himself from responding so readily to Grant, especially not like this. A rough groan was punched out of him from the heat in this new kiss, returning it in equal measure. His hands slid firmly under him to spread across his back, loving the weight of him pressed between him and the bed.

He pulled back out of the kiss just enough to nip at his bottom lip lightly, a scrape of teeth over that all too tempting swell. He pressed back into another kiss, sliding deeper and adding more heat because he needed Grant to know how much he felt for him. He couldn't keep it to himself, not in these soft moments that were all theirs and so easily committed to memory.

James moaning into his mouth was enough to wreck what was left of his train of thought, all of his remaining focus narrowing to the lips on his and the warmth of the man in his arms. It was devastating how he seemed to read exactly what he wanted and offer it without hesitating. Grant never wanted him to have to hide his feelings, good or bad.

His hands tightened slightly, holding him close as he melted into the kiss. He shivered at the soft scrape of teeth, nails running lightly over his scalp in encouragement as he pressed hungrily back into the kiss. A soft, needy sound escaped him at the slow, deep heat of it. He wanted to kiss him and keep kissing him, to sink into him and never resurface.

James never would have claimed to be able to just tell what Grant wanted, but he knew what he wanted himself and could only ever hope it aligned with Grant's wants and needs. He would never hesitate to offer anything of himself to him, his care, his heart, this was the easiest to give him.

He loved feeling those clever hands tightening and the way he shivered under him. Between the scrape of nails and that sound, he was lost and there was no real active thought. The kiss sank deeper, his hand sliding up his back to slip his fingers into the hair at the back of his head to tip it just enough to plunder just that much deeper. He would drown in this, let himself stay under, there was already nothing in the world but them, but this.

There was nothing he wanted more right now than exactly what he had, and that was James kissing him like the world started and ended with the two of them. The regret of pulling away from him that first time still hadn't completely left him, and he'd promised himself it would never happen again. He wanted everything that James offered so freely; he would take it and keep it safe.

He moaned softly when he tilted his head for a new angle, and he couldn't stop the way he melted completely under him. His fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close while that clever mouth took him apart. There was no end goal or ulterior motive, neither of them trying to take it any further. James's mouth was a whole world by itself, and he'd be content just to kiss him for the rest of the night.

James's world did start and end with the two of them when they were together. Everything and everyone else was extra. So softly, and so willingly, he handed everything he was into Grant's hands, trust him with it and hoping he would treasure it. A part of him knew that he would, that his was wholly mutual on nearly every level, but he couldn't help but hold that hope in place.

All he wanted was to kiss Grant until they both forgot anything else, until everything was narrowed down to just that. He wanted to feel that soft, sweet surrender of him that was made all the better because it was for him. The soft, pliant heat of him made him groan softly because it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Grant was only too happy to reorient his world with James at the center. It felt right, as though something that had long been off balance had settled into place. It had always been that way with him though. He knew that they both had the ability to damage the other beyond repair if they didn't move carefully with this, but he trusted that in James's hands was the best possible place for his heart. Grant had to trust that he could keep his safe as well, that he could protect James even from his own sharp edges.

But there was no room for worry about that right now. All his finer thinking had been abandoned in favor of soft lips and hands and the gentle heat building between them. If he wanted surrender, then he had it. Grant was relaxed and yielding under him as long as he didn't stop. His fingers traced out the soft contours of his back while hot, languorous kisses started a slow fire in him set to burn away every last doubt.

James would have happily spent all night until the sun came up kissing Grant. The driving need for both of them to properly rest eventually took over, though, and after a (long) while, he slowly pulled back and soothed them both with soft touches and equally soft looks. Staying settled over him, it was easy to let sleep take over.

The sound of an alarm clock made him groan and bury his face. There was a brief pause when it wasn’t his pillow he was trying to burrow into. Instead, a comforting and familiar smell and warmth met him and he smiled softly. He seemed to have done his best octopus impression in his sleep and he gently tightened his limbs. “Morning,” he rumbled out quietly, voice sleep rough and low.

He kissed him until there were no thoughts left that weren't James, and then a little longer. He didn't protest when they settled into cuddles and soft touches. He wanted James to get some sleep, and it wouldn't be a terrible idea for him either. He was surprised by how quickly he drifted off though, soothed by the warm weight of his body over him.

Grant was awake before his alarm, a terrible habit he had, but with James octopused around him, he couldn't reach his phone to turn it off without disturbing him. Waking him would defeat the purpose, so he stayed where he was and enjoyed his warmth and the soft sound of his breathing until it went off. "Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, arms tightening around him and face snuggling into his hair.

This was a way he could get very used to waking up, frighteningly quickly. He wanted it to be his new normal, to hear that voice first thing in the morning before he even chose to open his eyes. He brushed a soft kiss to his neck and shoulder with a content hum, releasing one arm from his hold to brush down his side.

“How did you sleep?” He lifted up his head to look at that much adored face with a soft expression. His lips brushed over his jaw gently, a gentle show of affection that he was happy to be able to do.

He liked everything about waking up with James in his bed, but there was nothing about the past twelve hours he wouldn't want to repeat on a daily basis. It was exactly the kind of life he wanted to build with him. Much as he hated to leave today, it made him warm to think he had someone he didn't want to leave, someone to come home to.

"Good. You?" Better than he'd expected to. He closed his eyes under the soft kisses, running a hand idly down his back. The soft look on his face when he opened his eyes stole his breath for a moment, and he lightly brushed fingers down the side of his face. "You're beautiful," he murmured. He wanted to wake up to this every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night.

He lifted a hand to brush through all that soft blonde hair, already addicted to the sight of him in the morning. “Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he admitted against soft skin. Sleep wasn’t something that often came easily, so he knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth.

He leaned into that soft brush of fingers, his eyes fluttering slightly. “So are you. Officially my favorite thing to wake up to,” he said softly. He couldn’t wait for this to be their daily life, to fall asleep and wake up together, to share all the moments small and large.

"I'm glad." He smiled, happy to know that James felt comfortable enough here not just to sleep but to sleep well. Grant knew he wasn't a cure for insomnia, or anything else, but he was grateful for anything that helped even a little. He tipped his head into that touch, all but purring like a cat.

"I was just thinking I want to do this all the time," he admitted softly. He stroked the side of his face again before fingers slid into his hair in the soft pets he seemed to love so much. This part was kind of new. They'd never reached the point where they got to live together, and any mornings he got to wake up next to him were rarer than he'd liked. Being an adult wasn't always fun, but there were so many downsides to being a teenager.

He scratched his nails lightly across his scalp as he kept up the soft brushes through his hair, enjoying the sight of him like that. Grant could fix a lot of things for him, and he knew it, but he didn't want to put him in the position of thinking it was his lot in life. He was so much more than that, always had been.

"I do too," he admitted in return, knowing they wouldn't keep themselves from it too often now. His eyes finally fluttered shut and he definitely pushed into the hand stroking through his hair. If he had to choose one favorite display of affection that wasn't kisses or anything of that vein, that was it. He could vividly remember the times they got to wake up together, and there weren't many. This was an advantage to adulthood.

He made a soft, contented sound at the touch. He would fix everything for James if he could, even though he knew that relationships didn't work like that. He could do this much though, and more, to make sure he was loved and cared for. It wasn't a fix for everything, but it had a way of making the hard parts a little more bearable.

It continued to amaze him how effortlessly they seemed to be on the same page so far. They'd clicked immediately when they were younger too, but Grant would have said it was impossible as an adult. He would have been wrong. He continued the soft pets, tipping his head up to brush a few light kisses against his neck. He could see them both easily getting distracted if mornings like this became a habit.

He wanted to be the cause of more sounds like that, knowing he made him that relaxed and happy. They were both going to have to work on the art of give and take, but he had a feeling they would figure it out. It would make everything better for both of them in the long run if they could.

His breath hitched at the soft kisses and he tipped his head to give him room for more. Morning distractions seemed like the most perfect thing to him if they were caused by Grant. A soft hiss of air through his teeth was all he had before he rolled them over so he could look up at Grant with soft eyes. "You're the best thing I've ever seen," he admitted, his hand trailing through his hair again.

No relationship was without its problems, but he thought they were doing alright working through them so far. They both wanted to handle them together, and that was a start. Grant had opened up more to him in the past week than anyone else in the past three years, or longer.

He couldn't help a soft laugh as they switched places, and he settled himself more firmly over him, deciding he liked it here just as well. "I think your bar is a little low," he teased, but it was obvious by the way he bit his lip on a smile that he was touched by the comment. He ran a hand up his side over his shirt and dipped his head to press soft kisses to his neck the way he'd been doing before he was so rudely interrupted.

The sound of that laugh made his chest even warmer than it already felt at his wakeup. His arm wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him flush to him as the other stayed in his hair. "No, sweetheart, it's awfully high, you're just that damn beautiful," he pointed out, leaning up to brush a kiss over the corner of his mouth softly before laying back down.

When the kisses continued, he tipped his head for him again to give him all the room he could want. He didn't want him to go on his trip, but he refused to be the clingy boyfriend when Grant was doing what he needed to do for his career. He knew it would be a weekend full of photos, music, text messages, and that he would see him in just a few days. For now, he was going to be greedy and soak up all of the attention he could.

Morning or not, there were moments with him where he felt like he was seventeen again. Laughing with him and being a little silly, James being sweet and too charming by half, and Grant feeling tongue-tied by his flirting was definitely one of them. He hummed happily into the kiss, pressing his palm against the warmth of his skin at his side.

"Sweetest man alive," he murmured against his skin. He continued the soft trail of kisses down his neck and then forced himself to pull back before he was tempted to do more. He didn't want to tease him too badly knowing that he didn't have time to follow through on it. He tucked an arm under his chin instead, gazing down at that adored face. "I need to shower, and then breakfast?"

Anything he could do to make him happy, to make him feel loved and appreciated, he was going to do. "Why are you talking about yourself?" He said the question teasingly, but he couldn't help but think how Grant was the sweetest person he had ever known. He would admit to bias, but it didn't change anything.

His hand continued its trail through his hair, nails leaving their trail against his scalp as he looked at him. "I'll start breakfast while you shower," he decided on a soft murmur, giving a good soft scritch just behind his ear.

He laughed softly and let it go because he wasn't going to win a most charming fight with James Lane. It was also bad manners to keep brushing off compliments, even if he didn't agree with them. There was a time and place for self-deprecation, and it wasn't in bed with his cute boyfriend. Or whatever. They hadn't really clarified past dating, but he liked the sound of it.

He tipped his head into that touch, and then leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You don't have to do that. Stay and rest. We can do something quick." He knew full well that James was going to do whatever he wanted, and nothing Grant said was going to change that. But it was good to lay the options out anyway. He kissed him again and reluctantly slid off him.

He tipped his face up into that soft kiss, a soft smile filling his face. "Uh huh, sure," the words were obviously placating, because there was no way he wanted to stay in bed if Grant wasn't in it with him at this point. He appreciated the out, the blatant expression that he wasn't expected to do anything but be there.

As he slid off him, James pouted slightly and shifted to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he stood and snagged him, pulling him close with a small smirk. He wrapped his arms carefully before tipping him low and kissing him deep and slow for a moment before righting both of them and giving him another soft quick kiss. "Enjoy your shower," he murmured before stepping away and going to the kitchen.

"Uh huh," he echoed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He recognized the placation, but he didn't argue further. James made his own choices, and it wasn't a surprise he picked the sweet one. Grant didn't make it far before he was pulling him close again, and he went easily back into his arms. That kiss was at odds with the silliness of the gesture, and he didn't know whether to laugh or go weak-kneed when they straightened back up. He ended up somewhere in the middle.

Only the fact that he had to be somewhere on time kept him from tugging him back in again and describing what would really make his shower enjoyable. There wasn't time this morning for everything he wanted to do to him, so he just watched until he vanished through the door and then tried to set himself back on track. He kept the shower quick and dressed before heading out to the kitchen.

If he hadn't walked away, he would have been tempted to make Grant very very late, but he never wanted to do that to him. It was better for him to walk away and do what he could to make sure he ate and was taken care of. He was glad he had helped him cook last night, so he had an idea of where most things were to make cooking easier on himself.

It was quick work to get coffee and omelettes working, loaded with vegetables and cheese. When he saw Grant come back out, he smiled easily and went to meet him. "Feel better?" His eyes drifted over his face, pleased to see how well-rested he looked.

He went right for James like a magnet, wrapping his arms around him and brushing a soft kiss over his lips. "I feel great." Except for the fact that he had to leave, he felt better than he had in days, and that was mediated by knowing they'd still get to talk. "How are you?" He pulled back enough to study his face, looking for signs that he needed more rest, but his eyes weren't as shadowed as yesterday and he looked happy.

He didn't move out of the circle of his arms, but his gaze flicked to the stove. It smelled amazing, and James cooking in his kitchen made him unreasonably happy. He hadn't just made him breakfast; he'd kind of insisted on it, and Grant knew he was smiling like an idiot. "Anything I can help with?"

He went happily into the circle of his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking himself close as he tipped his face up to meet his kiss. "Good, I'm glad," he smiled with a gentle squeeze of his arms. One good night of rest could do a lot, and he knew he needed more but he was already better than he'd been the day before. "I'm great, baby," he reassured him, brushing a soft kiss along his jaw.

Watching his face, he was indescribably happy at being able to take care of him, to cook for him. He wanted to keep that look on his face as often as he could. "You could pour our coffee," he chuckled, brushing a soft kiss over the corner of that beautiful smile. "Black for me, please."

He loved how easily James fit against him, like he was meant to be there, and he let himself relax into that embrace. He was having another brief moment of this can't be my life. It looked so different from this time yesterday that it was like being dropped into a pleasant dream he didn't want to wake up from. "Good," he murmured, tightening his arms around him.

"Okay." He smiled, reaching up to run fingers through his hair. He stole another soft, lingering kiss, because it seemed like a crime to not kiss him whenever possible, before moving away to pour coffee into two mugs. Grant only drank it if there were at least two other things in it making it taste less like coffee, so they were easy to tell apart as he brought them to the table.

His head tilted into that sweet touch and didn’t want it to stop, but he knew he had food on the stove and they had to get moving for Grant to be on time. It was natural to meet every kiss he decided to give, hoarding them away to get him through the next few days. Somehow he had stumbled into a whole new life in a week and he didn’t want it to disappear on him.

He wanted this to be their normal, to be able to take care of Grant and be taken care of in return, because he knew he would be. His fingers brushed along him as they separated and he finished their breakfast as he made their coffee. It was quick work to flip the omelettes onto their plates and top them. Grabbing forks, he carried the plates to the table and set them down, leaning to kiss him softly before sitting in his own seat.

He took a seat while James finished the cooking and let himself enjoy the sight of him in his kitchen. He moved through it like he'd been there a hundred times. Grant wanted him to belong here, in his apartment, in his life. "Thank you for breakfast." He tipped his head up to meet the kiss and reluctantly let him slide away to sit. He was still behaving himself, but it was getting more difficult all the time.

He picked up his fork and started on his food. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him, and if he thought for too long about the care James offered so easily, he was going to lose what was left of his heart. "This is amazing." He'd yet to try any of James's cooking that wasn't.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair as he moved away because he couldn’t help himself. He loved being able to do those small things, make him breakfast and pet his hair, all before their day had even properly started. It was all too easy to picture this being their life every day and he wanted it so much it was an ache in his soul, but he could handle that.

James wasn’t able to care for Grant half as much as he wanted to, but all that would come with time, he knew. “Good. It will get you to lunch,” he said firmly in that way that said ‘you’re going to eat lunch for me today’ without actually saying it. He sipped on his coffee and took the simple pleasure of watching Grant for a moment, committing it to memory like a Polaroid.

Grant wanted to be able to give him this life, and everything else he wanted. Last week, he would have said he wasn't suited for it, that happy domestic life wasn't in the cards for him anymore. He'd made his peace with that around the time of the divorce. They weren't trying to fix it, there were no second chances, and he wouldn't even fit in that life anymore, not really. He wouldn't have imagined any of this for himself because he hadn't believed it was possible.

He huffed a quiet laugh at the not-quite-command. Unless he wasn't getting out of bed at all, Grant could usually manage two meals in a day. Three was sometimes asking a lot if he was absorbed in his work, but he could try if that made him happy. It wasn't like New York was short on great food options. "And you. Pictures or it didn't happen," he teased, gently nudging his knee beneath the table.

James wanted what would work for both of them, what would bring both of them some peace and happiness. It might not be the happy domesticity all the time because it wouldn’t suit them all the time. He liked to think it would though, if given the real chance. He had never even had the chance at it, but he knew that it had been part of Grant’s life and he wasn’t sure if it was wanted again or not.

James didn’t care so much about three meals a day, he more cared that he was taking care of himself and eating when he was hungry. A soft laugh escaped him and he nudged him back softly. “Promise to eat when I’m awake, sweetheart,” he assured him.

There was no going back. They both knew that. Whatever they were building together, it was something new that would fit the people they were now. He wasn't sure, yet, what that included, but he knew it was the first time in years he was even thinking about that kind of life. He nodded, accepting that. James was a grown man, and he'd taken care of himself all this time. He didn't need Grant hovering over him.

Breakfast was finished sooner than he would have liked, and he knew he was running out of time to stall. He couldn't be very bitter about it when he'd already stolen a whole extra night of his time, and would likely have more of it. He caught his hand and kissed it as he stood up to take their plates to the sink and start cleaning up.

There was no point in trying to draw breakfast out because he knew they were in a timeline. He had been greedy enough when he had agreed to stay last night. But stolen hours weren’t enough, would never be enough when it came to Grant. He knew he would get more soon, but it felt so far away. That was how he knew he was truly sunk.

His breath caught at the soft kiss to his hand and he watched him all the way til he got to the sink before he got up. Walking into the kitchen, he slipped up behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist, plastering himself against his back and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

He didn't want just stolen hours with James. He felt greedy for time with him, as much as he could get without suffocating him or abandoning adult responsibilities or both. They'd already lost fifteen years and seemed to have come to the mutual agreement that they weren't wasting anymore.

He wrapped an arm over his and practically melted against him, a soft shiver running through him at the kiss. He reached back with his free hand, running a hand through his hair. "It's only a day, and I still hate leaving you," he admitted. It was already obvious how attached he was, so Grant didn't think he had anything to lose where that was concerned.

When that hand slid through his hair, he absolutely was lost and tightened his hold slightly. His lips brushed softly over the back of his neck, just letting him know he was still there. “I hate you leaving too,” he admitted softly, scraping his teeth lightly.

His arms tightened lightly and he brushed his lips over the soft skin of his neck again. “I’ll be here when you get home, sweetheart,” he assured him. “Let me know when you’re home and when you want me to get here.” He knew he would be waiting for him, ready to be there the moment he was summoned.

He tightened his hold on him and bit back a moan at the soft brush of lips and teeth, James's body a solid line of warmth at his back. This was no time to get weak over him, but he'd always been able to strip away his defenses so easily. Not helped by the fact that Grant didn't even want to fight it.

"It'll be late tomorrow. I don't want to wake you." He badly wanted James to be here when he got home--or Grant could always go to him--but sleep was hard enough for him to come by. He wasn't going to selfishly wake him at all hours of the night just because he'd suddenly become codependent.

James let out a rumble of discontent, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned Grant in his arms. "Baby," he said, his tone slightly warning but definitely firm, "If you want me to meet you here, then here is where I am going to be." There was nothing that would change his mind on that because he had nowhere he would rather be.

His hand slid up into his hair, nails scratching lightly as he leaned in to kiss him softly. "I always want to be where you need me," he admitted softly. There was no way he would rest peacefully without him or knowledge he was okay anyway,

He turned easily, leaning back against the counter and pulling James in close. Grant knew he needed to get more comfortable asking for what he wanted, but it was going to take time to break the habit of trying not to need anything from other people. It was nice when they offered, but for the most part he couldn't count on it. He already trusted James to be there for him; he just wasn't used to asking.

It was the softer follow-up that did him in. He was so sweet it was actually painful sometimes. That someone who had lost as much as James had could still be kind blew his mind a little. He pressed into the kiss, soft and lingering, breaking it only to kiss along his jaw, fingers sliding into his hair. "Then I want you here, or I'll come to you," he murmured. One night without him sounded far more manageable.

He didn't mind shifting close to him, pressing himself against the long length of his body with a content hum. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, but he knew how to offer what he wanted Grant to have from him. He always wanted to be there for him, to be the person he knew would always be there at the start and end of the day.

His head tipped to let him have access to his jawline with a quiet sound of need. "Then I will be here," he assured him quietly, one hand sliding up his back to tangle into his hair. "Let me know when you're half an hour out, so I can be here." He wanted nothing more than to be here when he got home, to comfort him and help him settle back in.

The quiet, hateful voice in his head said he hadn't done anything to deserve someone as good to him as James was. The more logical one said that deserving had nothing to do with it. People didn't get what they deserved. They just did the best they could with what they were given, or they didn't. As long as James wanted to be here, he was keeping him as close as he could.

"I will." Teeth scraped lightly over his jaw before he soothed it with a kiss. He wanted to do a lot more than that, but not minutes before he had to leave. That wasn't fair to either of them, and he was going to have a hard enough time walking out the door. He drifted back to his lips, catching him in another soft kiss.

James knew that they both had a lot to work through when it came to what they thought they deserved or needed, and he was determined to prove that he was going to be there regardless. He wanted to be there, at Grant's side and watching his back, knowing he was protected and cared for.

"Good," he groaned out softly, the soft scrape of teeth making him shiver and press closer. He took the soft kiss and slowly backed Grant into the wall before deepening it fiercely. His hands settled themselves into his hair so he could tip his head just right to kiss him in a way he would remember until he came home. Slowly, he let him surface and softened the kiss, brushing his lips along his jaw when he finally broke away. "Go, do awesome things like I know you do... and come home to me," he murmured.

His breath caught when his back hit the wall, James's body a solid line of heat trapping him there. He sank into the kiss with a soft moan at the way he knew exactly how to deepen it so that he'd be thinking about him for the rest of the day, his hands making fists in the back of his shirt to draw him close and keep him there.

He was breathless when he pulled away, but nothing hit as hard as those last four words. It had been a very long time since he had someone to come home to, and the fact that it was James felt like grace. He managed to pull himself together enough to move away from the wall because if he didn't leave now, he wasn't sure he could be trusted to do it at all. He paused long enough to dig a key out of the drawer for him, pressing it into his palm as he leaned in to kiss him goodbye. If James beat him here tomorrow, he didn't want him stuck outside waiting. "Send me a playlist? I'll see you tomorrow."

James always wanted to be part of what Grant had to come home to, to be part of that softness that welcomed him home to relax and unwind. He barely managed to keep himself from pouting when he shifted away, watching him because he knew it was time. The key being pressed into his hand was a surprise that he couldn't keep his throat from tightening against.

"I'll clean up here," he assured him, his hand closing around the key like it was something precious to him, and it was. He wanted him to keep on with his successful career and continue to drive forward. "I'll have one to you very soon," he promised him, leaning to meet the kiss with a soft nip. "I'll see you before you know it, sweetheart," he reassured him, not liking that he was leaving but understanding why.

#chat: james #morethanabattlescar #delicate

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spideywars · 5 years

Text

tell me the world’s alright

chapter four; flux

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

words: 5.6k

warnings: none

summary:

After the blip and everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren’t as safe as you thought. Even under your father’s iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place.

last chapter

“Have you started packing yet?” Pepper’s voice chimes in your ears as you sit at your desk. You’re working on some paperwork that’s needed at the lab for your co-op job. You look up, blinking towards the door to see her leaning against the frame.

“I leave in two months, I’ve got time.” You shrug her question off and hear Pepper chuckle lightly as you try to focus yourself back into your work. It’s a hint that you wanted to be left alone, but your mom makes her way into the room, settling herself on your bed.

“What?” You ask with the smallest smile across your face. You didn’t push her away, knowing she never did this unless something was really bugging her.

It took Pepper a bit, her eyes scanning along the four walls of the room until they finally landed on you. She looked almost guilty, and you raised a brow at her expression.

“Why don’t you go to your father’s opening night for his tech?”

Her words barely came out of her mouth before you were letting out a loud sigh and shaking your head. You didn’t want to fight, but you thought you made it clear that this was something you didn’t want to be apart of anymore.

“Mom I can’t, I’m sorry. I love dad, but you know he’s showing my design and I don’t need to be near that right now.” It’s been two years and that project still haunts you, and you’d rather forget about the blood, sweat, and tears that the suit caused you while you were sixteen years old.

“Avoiding your past doesn’t fix anything, I can promise you that.” Pepper’s words are solid and she stares at you with intention in her eyes. She has married a man who never takes a step back in life, and she’s probably sat down hundreds of times with Tony, saying the same words.

“I just don’t want to get angry at him again or make him feel like he needs to owe me anything while I’m there.” You shrug, trying to give pathetic excuses after excuses to try and place some kind of sanity inside your mother’s head. “It’s his night, he can tell me all about it when he gets back next week.”

Pepper is still staring at you and radiating the same disappointment with the way her lips were formed into a tight line. But she didn’t retaliate, instead, she got up from your bed and walked over to brush her hand through your hair.

Her nails felt good, scratching at your scalp and grounding you back to earth. It soothed away all the stress that’s been clotting your mind for weeks since you got accepted to a University in LA. It’s been non-stop of thinking about what to pack, who to tell, where to stay.

You did need time off, a little getaway from all the stress before you were back to putting on scrubs daily. Being apart of disease control as your future has its ups and downs, and unfortunately, you had to ditch the idea of being fashionable.

“Think about it a little more, I’m taking a flight tomorrow afternoon.” She steps away, releasing her hold on you and walking out of your room. You watch her as she disappears and allows the door to close.

A loud breath escapes your lips when you’re left in the drowning silence. You have been ignoring the past, dodging any memories that threaten to come back up to the surface of your brain. Being a sixteen-year-old girl madly in love as well as being a genius inventor was something that didn’t mix well with the last name Stark. That’s why it could never work out, your love life and your inventing days.

And that’s why you’re here now, as an eighteen-year-old girl ready to become a doctor to save lives the normal human way instead of becoming something she knew would end in her being six feet under instead.

It’s not like you woke up and changed your mind, god, after that night with Peter you never cried, screamed, and yelled so much in your life. You wanted to start a riot against your father, defile his orders and become his living nightmare. Your blood was boiling for a good month, seeing his face made your hands tighten into fists.

But life went on, you got over Peter and your grudge for Tony and decided that you weren’t going to live life properly if you held onto the past. All that mattered was your future now, and that’s why there are empty boxes littered around your bedroom and ready to get stuffed. You’ve at least gone as far as taking a sharpie to them and titling them either ‘Uni’ or 'storage.’

But it’s funny how your motto is contradicting itself at this very moment. How you’re refusing to go and support your father and his show. Yea, don’t live in the past but your invention was going to be staring you right in the eyes on its display. You just know is going to be on a mannequin just like it was the first time you walked downstairs to see your father working on it and begging for a partnership.

It’ll hurt too much, and the last thing you want is to ruin your father’s big day.

The time struck midnight on your desk, flashing red and illuminating your face. It was time for bed, but something inside you knew you’d be staring up at the ceiling eating yourself alive with thoughts about getting on that damned jet the next day.

Knocking awoke you. Your eyes blinked opened and were met with sunlight shining through your curtains. It made you squint and roll over so your back was to it, now feeling the sun-rays hit your back warmly. Your mind was a constant cycle of thoughts the whole night, just like you had predicted. Now, you’re paying for it with the way your lids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds and your limbs stayed glued to your mattress.

The knocking continued, not planning to stop anytime soon. You were almost ready to bury your head between the pillow and the mattress before the door opened. It was Pepper.

“You know, I try to give you your space but when you don’t answer for the tenth knock, I say I’m free to open the door.” Pepper gives you a small smile, walking towards the balcony doors and allowing her hands to swipe open the curtains. Now the light was blinding, even from where your back was turned from it.

You forced yourself up to lean against your headboard, obviously sleeping wasn’t happening now.

Pepper’s body was almost just a silhouette, becoming nothing against the sun that shone towards you. You looked beautiful, all dolled up in new fancy velvet suit and her hair in loose curls. She was ready to go, and you were her last stop before she was off to the airport.

“Yes.” You say, without her even asking. You knew it was coming, the way her arms were folded across her chest and how her eyes widened towards you, begging ever so softly.

“Yes?” Pepper almost stuttered, her arms drop to her sides as she stepped towards you. It almost made you chuckle, how floored she looked. But hey, you really did need this trip. That suit was your last mini hurdle over the past you needed to get over. Maybe after this, you can sprint your way to your best possible future with no setbacks.

“Do you want me to change my mind?” You had to play with her, laughing when her face fell. In response, you just swung your legs onto the floor and jumped up to get ready.

“I-I’ll go tell the driver you’re coming, meet me down there in two minutes okay?” It’s almost like a switch turned on in your mother’s head, her feet moving forward and a smile appearing across her face. She made it halfway across the room before she stopped to place your cheeks into her palms. You were forced to look into her eyes, just for a few seconds to exchange smiles before she pressed a wet lipstick kiss to your cheek before disappearing out of your room.

You never realized how thankful your mom would be, seeing you come with her. Maybe you actually won’t regret this decision.

That feeling won’t come, the doubt, you know that as you pack your bags and grab your coat from the back of the door, rushing down the stairs to meet Pepper who’s standing in the middle of the front hallway. There isn’t any tightness in your chest, no jitters that send a shockwave through your body. Your steps get closer to the car, then the plane, and then into your seat. No bad feelings, nothing but pride.

It’s those damned emotions, the ones that make you push it all away and bottle them up tight to save yourself nights of tears and days of sorrow. You were so scared of feeling so incredibly in pain again that you became a stranger to your own feelings, it’s almost like you ripped your own heart out so you couldn’t feel a pulse anymore. As if that made you feel like you could live your life better.

You were wrong. That’s clear as day now as you feel the plane lift off the ground. Pepper’s wine sloshes in its glass, her fingers tightening along the neck of it so it doesn’t spill on her expensive clothes. Everything is finally coming into focus now, it’s time to stop running from yourself.

Tony is standing in the hallway, glaring down at the ground as someone whispers things lightening fast into his ear. It looks like he’s not listening, and you know he probably isn’t it. His brain is eating up his own thoughts, and the way he’s chewing his lip makes you raise a brow as you and Pepper make your way towards him.

He hears the click of both your heels, now meeting your eyes. It’s almost shocking, to finally see your father somewhere else that isn’t just inside your house. He’s actually at work, being an Avenger. It’s a weird feeling that overcomes you.

“Nice to see you’ve come.” Tony doesn’t sound okay, his eyes are glossed over with something that you can’t quite pin-point. Pepper even catches it and manages to sneak a glance over to you, now concerned.

“Tony…” Pepper starts to speak but Tony lifts his hand to silence her, giving him his famous fake smile before he shoos off the person still attempting to talk to him.

“Why don’t you ladies find your seats. I’ve got you both in the front row, popcorn and drinks waiting. Even some of that cheesy powder stuff you guys like on them…I don’t know what it’s called, one of the tech people got it-”

“Tony.” Pepper interrupts Tony abruptly, and he bows his head in shame. He is one tough cookie but easily softens under the pressure of his own wife.

“It’s the suit.”

“The suit?”

“The suit.”

That makes you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You know those words, you know that tone. It’s an instant flashback to you standing in front of Peter, staring into his eyes with all your hopes and dreams radiating off your body and onto him. The way you told him your suit was going to be his next, your suit was going to be The suit.

“What’s wrong with it?” You don’t know how you manage to speak, but you find your voice enough to spit out a question. You tried to hold it in, this dread and the nervousness that suddenly spiked your whole body into overdrive. You really thought this day was going to be fine, that you weren’t going to regret this decision.

But Tony Stark always has something up his sleeves.

“Nothing serious, it just won’t connect to the automatic system I have set up. It’s for the show, so I want it to come on when I give the tech team the go-ahead but…”

“You need my help?” You finish off your dad’s sentence, even though you didn’t want those words to come out ever again.

Tony looked towards Pepper, seeing how upset and torn she looked. She knew damn well how much you struggled to get over the suit and that life. She was probably beating herself up for even asking you to come.

“No, well…yes? I mean you can just tell me what I need to do internally to the suit and I can do it myself.” You shook your head before he even finished, almost wanting to laugh at his attempt to make you feel better, to save you the memories and heartache. But you knew he knew that this wasn’t something you could just verbally instruct him on. It needed you, your hands, and your brain.

“Where is it?” You ask, already maneuvering past him as you make your way down the hallway. Tony is hot on your heels, and by the sound of the frantic click-clacking behind you, Pepper is too. She’s whispering with clenched teeth into Tony’s ear, words you can’t quite understand from where you’re walking. All you know is she’s not very happy, which is fair.

“Y/N,” Tony speaks as you come to Tony’s dressing room. You can feel his hand brushing your shoulder, just missing inches before you grab at the doorknob and turn it.

When you walk inside, you’re met with Peter Parker staring at you.

You grow numb, hands trembling as you push them into the side of your skirt. It’s like the world stopped, just a minute to stare into his eyes before he quickly had the mask pull over his head. He probably thought it was some stranger, walking in, but you see the mask’s eyes widen so largely you almost thought it was malfunctioning.

“Y/N?” Peter speaks breathlessly through the mask, it now slowly coming off his face and back into the neck of the suit. It’s now just him, his brown eyes that used to make your knees weak now staring back at you once again.

Two years. It’s been two years since you’ve seen Peter Parker in the flesh. You remember seeing him on tv, the suit on full display and making you sick to your stomach. You barely saw him for five seconds before you were changing the channel or turning the tv off. It was pain, pure, raw pain you felt when you saw his face. And now it’s back, but it’s all numb.

He aged well, and two years made him look manly, broader and caused some small beard hairs to grow along his chin. His jawline is sharper, he’s got more thickness to his form. God, he looks amazing.

And suddenly your world is tipped on its head again.

“Hi, Pete.” Your eyes turn down and you gulp awkwardly, not even realizing you said his nickname until it already slipped out.

He was shifting from side to side, his eyes moving along the floor as if the words he was trying to find were scattered across it.

“Y/N…” You could hear the guilt in your father’s tone, the hand on your shoulder and the way the air in the room grew thinner. But you took a deep breath, turning towards Tony who stood in the door frame with Pepper behind him, both with wide eyes and looking defeated.

“I told you, you need me.” Your voice was wobbly, you could feel it falling with each word. Tony could tell, the sorrow that rushed across his face and clouded his eyes. You hated it, you wished you were stronger than this.

You thought you were stronger than this. On the plane, you felt unstoppable, but one look into Peter Parker’s eyes and your walls are crumbling, everything is back to how it was.

“What system are you trying to connect to?” You asked after you cleared your throat and turned away from your parents and their pained glances.

There wasn’t an answer and you allowed them to process everything as you walked towards Peter.

He was looking at you again, those brown eyes scanning your body, reading every part of it. It’s like he was trying to remember the pages of a book he had forgotten about. He was reading the way you walked, the movement of your lips as you talked, the fumble in your voice. You felt exposed.

“I-I’ll go get the manual…” Tony spoke suddenly, making you jump. It made Peter laugh, just the smallest bit with the corners of his lips turning upwards as he stared at you. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Pepper.” You could hear Tony speak, and you didn’t have to look to know he wanted her to come with him. You couldn’t help but laugh too when you could hear them arguing as the door closed.

You wondered what changed your father’s mind about you and Peter being in the same room. To be fair, in two years you both have grown and changed, not just you and Peter but Tony too. You know your dad and the way his thoughts eat at his brain until there is nothing left, he knew how he hurt you and probably wanting to make it up to you by bringing Peter back into your life.

You don’t know how to feel about that. That numbness feeling comes crawling back every time you think too much into it.

“He didn’t tell you I was here, did he?” Peter asked, his voice building a dame to close off the thoughts that tumble harshly throughout your mind. You try to hide your smile, pretending to analyze every inch of the suit with your brows furrowed.

“And he didn’t tell you I was coming, did he?” You responded, making him chuckle and nod. His eyes glistened and glowed so perfectly, it reminded you why you got lost in them so easily when you were younger.

Your hands moved from your sides to the suit, trying to move through the motions as if that would help you stop daydreaming. But this just brought back the last time you ever saw Peter, when you both stood in your bedroom, his hands on your arms and yours cupping his jaw, how smooth it was.

You wondered what it would feel now, how prickly it would feel compared to when he was sixteen.

The dame was breaking.

“Is this okay?” You ask, hovering both your hands along his right shoulder. You refused to close his face in with yours, knowing what happened last time. It was smart, more professional, and Peter simply nodded with a loud gulp sound passing through the air before you decided to press your palms along the suit.

The suit felt how you remembered it, the bumps of the web design, the light reflecting off it. Peter’s body filled it in more than last time, and you could feel the muscle through it easily. You tried to blink passed that, trying to make sure no circuits were disconnected that could’ve caused the problems with tech.

You were an amazing inventor at sixteen, but you didn’t think about what your father would do with the suit business-wise. Everything was mapped out for Peter from bullets to bombs, but not about Bluetooth connection or HDMI and other cables.

“How has the suit been treating you?” You ask, trying to distract him as you timidly grab for his hand to check the movement functions. He flickered his gaze down at the contact but quickly looked back up to stare above your head.

“It’s been good, great actually. Took a good year to get used to healing like that but…” Peter trailed off, and that threw you off your guard enough to make you look up and attempt to meet his eyes. He did eventually, and he smiled pleasantly at you.

“You really did an amazing job, Y/N.” Peter mumbled, moving his hand the smallest bit so it was gripping yours. He gave it a pulse, just the smallest squeeze before you broke apart. You could feel the awkwardness taint the conversation, but the dressing room door opened with a short knock from the outside before Tony walked in.

“Where’s the manual?” You asked, shaking your head when Pepper side-eyed Tony with a chuckle. She looked a lot calmer now, and Tony probably just wanted to calm her nerves and used the manual as a way to get her out.

“Oh, darn I couldn’t find it. Funny how those things happen. But anyways I trust you looked at the suit while I was gone, any thoughts?” You don’t know why, but your cheeks immediately heated up at your father’s words. You could feel Peter shifting awkwardly beside you, obviously not expecting Tony to say that either.

“I did. It’s uhm, fine. Just like I remembered.”

You wanted to slap yourself at that response, but all you could do was hang your head in shame as Tony gave you the tiniest sneer.

“I think you will have to disconnect it from all the other tech you’re showcasing tonight. I designed it so it wouldn’t be able to be hacked into other networks or allow foreign connections to control it in any way.” You distracted everyone with your words, blinking daggers at your father and wiping the smile clear off his face. He was now nodding with his concentrated expression plastered on his face.

“I was afraid you’d say that…” Tony mumbled, but you could already feel your mind urging your body towards the door, to exit from the situation, from Peter. But you were in the middle of the situation, you felt like a zebra cornered by a family of lions. You were defenseless.

“Peter I’m just going to have to nod at you from on the stage and you’ll swing in like that. Watch for me, yeah?” Tony moved away from the door to Peter so he could pat at his shoulder. This gave you a chance to escape, but your feet were glued to the floor.

You almost felt like you were inclined to say something, like there was a missing piece in the air that hung and awaited your voice to fill it in. But you couldn’t turn to look at your father and Peter, or allow your lips to move. All you could do was stare straight ahead, which Pepper noticed and quickly attempted to meet your eyes.

She looked like she felt horrible, the way her lips and eyes turned down and how she clasped her hands in front of her suit. This wasn’t her plans for you, and you could almost see the thoughts swirling dangerously in her mind, the guilt she felt for bringing you here and forcing you to face your demons.

“Good luck.” You spit out a cheesy reply, trying to give closure to this conversation. You felt bad for shoving yourself forward and rushing out on everyone, but once your feet disconnected themselves from the floor, you felt an intense need for air.

Pepper followed, of course, her heels click-clacking faster and faster down the hallway as you made your way towards the back again. You could see the sunlight leaking through the bottom of the exit door backstage, and it called for you.

“Y/N!” Pepper yelled, and she must’ve been calling your name a lot by the way she sounded breathless when she finally caught up with you. Your hand had an iron grip on the doorknob to outside, and you gave her one look over your shoulder before you pushed it opened and allowed the sun to completely blanket your body.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t want-I never knew Peter was going to be here.” Pepper was toying with her wedding ring nervously as she paced in front of you. She would move it up and down across her finger, allowing it to roll around her knuckle.

You focused on those movements as an anchor so you wouldn’t lose yourself, knowing if you looked at your mother’s stressed expression your head would explode. All you could really do was lean against the wall, palms pressed to the bricks and eyes cast down to the ring that shined in the light.

“Y/N?” Pepper’s voice was softer now, closer than it was before. This caught you off guard enough to make your eyes move up towards your mother’s eyes, now seeing her still stressed expression with her brows knotted tightly together.

“We can go home, right now if you want.” Pepper’s voice was firm but her eyes shimmered with doubt, you could tell this was something she was only doing for you. But it was too late to run away, your already scarred heart was laid out on the ground and stomped to a bruised mess again. This was a situation where you just needed to pick up the broken pieces and put it all back together again.

You’ll just have to a pathetically put-together mess for your father and crush.

“I’m staying, mom it’s okay.” You gulped roughly as if you were swallowing a pile of rocks. Pepper was still looking at you like you had just been snapped in two, the lipgloss she wore now unseeable on her lips because she was biting them too much from the nerves. This was almost just as hard for her as it was for you.

“Y/N…” Your name got lost in your mother’s voice, her trailing off and lowering her gaze to the ground. It was a minute of silence, just the wind against your ears as you stared off into the sky over Pepper’s shoulder before she finally looked up.

“Okay.” She said, nodding and moving her hands to grab yours. She squeezed at your fingers, holding you in your place for a few seconds before she released you and moved to open the door.

As soon as she did, you could hear the cheers and the lights were dimmed. The show was starting soon, and you used your mom as a beacon of light, zeroing-in on her form as she maneuvered past the bustling crowd of tech people and stage management to get to your seats.

You clapped and stood along with the entire arena, everyone cheering as your dad bowed and smiled from ear to ear with his inventions shinning in all their iron glory behind him. Peter was just a few steps behind him, his suit being the star of the night. You could see how confident he felt in it, with the way his shoulders broadened and his chin lifted into the air as people cheered 'Spider-man!’

You couldn’t help the smallest part of your mind that fell towards the thoughts of imagining you on that stage, beside both of them, being cheered on for your work.

What if you didn’t almost kiss Peter that night? What if your father didn’t stay home that night and find his way up the stairs to your room to catch you at just the wrong time? Would you be standing up there with them? Looking just as happy, your cheeks hurting because of how much you’ve been smiling?

That was a lot of questions to ask yourself, and you almost fell back into your chair when Pepper grabbed your shoulder, shaking you the smallest bit to get your attention.

“I’m sorry,” she snapped her hand back and you made sure to smile to reassure her that you were okay. “I need to go backstage to the dressing room to grab your father’s checklist before he startings organizing the clean-up.” She kissed at your cheek before wandering off as the crowd still cheered and clapped.

The lights started to come on and your father and Peter had left the stage. That was everyone’s queue to start filing out. You could’ve walked out with them, just so you could get swallowed up into the crowd and away from the problems that were awaiting you in that damned dressing room. But all you really wanted to do was watch as the sea of people that filled the room disappeared in a matter of minutes.

It was soothing almost, to just be sitting in an empty arena in the front row with no one to come up to you, no one to put on a fake smile to. Your whole life you’ve never really been alone, not like this. It felt refreshing and it gave you a couple of minutes to gather yourself before you had to face everyone.

“Y/N Stark?” Your content smile dropped when you heard an unrecognizable voice from beside you. You reluctantly gave the stranger your attention, plastering on that fake smile you’re so good at, welcoming him to come further towards you.

He was handsome, closer to your father’s age. His hair was slicked back and healthy, eyes soft to match his smile. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, and you could see he worked with your father by how he had a Stark Industries lanyard around his neck and a pin tucked into the right side of the suit.

“Hello?” You didn’t want to sound rude, but you gave him an arched brow as he clasped his hands behind his back and moved to sit next to you. You wondered why he wasn’t helping with the clean-up, or why he wasn’t backstage with anyone else. It’s not like you needed company.

Who knows, maybe you didn’t realize how depressed you really looked sitting alone in an empty arena.

“My name Quinten, Quinten Beck. I apologize for disturbing you it’s just…I wanted to say, your father is a genius making all those amazing suits. It must be interesting to grow up with a father who’s this talented.” He spoke almost like he was in a dream, looking towards the stage longingly. It made your mind wander back to your invention and the what-ifs.

“Yea.” You say bluntly, blinking down towards your feet.

Quinten didn’t say anything, and it was like he was analyzing you with the way he just sat beside you silently and stared at you. Maybe he expected you to elaborate, or say something more than 'yea.’

You felt bad, but you’ve been through a lot today.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You wondered if you could just not reply to him at all this time, maybe that would cause him to give up on this conversation and leave you be. But you couldn’t help but answer, he was only being nice.

“Just a long day, I’m glad you enjoy my father’s work.” You shook your head, trying to wiggle the bad thoughts pooling around your brain like a snake pit as you stood up and gave the man a decent smile.

“Understandable,” Quinten replied, looking at you for a split second in guilt before his eyes widened. He was quickly fishing through his pant pockets, finally grabbing whatever he was looking for and moving it towards you.

It was a business card, Quinten Beck written on the front with an email and phone number. It made you almost want to roll your eyes, now what was this for?

“Just in case you’re ever interested in following in your father’s footsteps, I’d love to work with you. You look like a woman that knows a lot.” Quinten smiles kindly, almost making you want to not rip the card in two.

“Thank you.” You take the card anyways, still showing that prize-winning smile as he laughs nervously when you take his card from his fingers.

You start to leave then, turning on your heels and walking towards the backstage door. But you’re shocked when he grabs at your wrist. It wasn’t anything rough or alarming, but the tender touch was enough to make you jump and retract your arm back.

“Hey, s-sorry just a quick question about that Spider-Man suit…since it was the big invention of the show…I was just wondering if the old Spider-Man suit was used at all?” He asked, now shoving his hands into his pockets because of your distaste.

That was a good question. Questions like that were rehearsed by your younger self inside your room as you paced back and forth or laid flat on your back upon your bed to stare up at the ceiling. You were so excited to get the press swarming you, screaming questions to you. Now you have one lone man standing in front of you looking like he was about to pee himself with the way he couldn’t keep his feet still in one spot, he was that nervous in your presence.

“I-uhm, my father used some of the parts, mostly just fabric samples to catch certain bits of DNA from Spider-Man and the webs to connect the new formulas together. It’s kind of…half and half.” You answered, feeling yourself now become the nervous one as you dodged his stare.

“Alright well…thanks for your time…really, Miss Stark.”

You gave him one short nod before turning back towards the backstage door. Your feet moved fast, and once you got to the door you carelessly tossed the business card into the garbage as you opened it, thinking you were being discreet with the way you shoved your hand into your purse to pretend you were throwing out a receipt.

You didn’t at all notice the glaring man behind you.

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@fckingchile @the-crazy-fanfictionist @littlemissporter @werecoyote-diaries @maddi-bh @dreambigbelieveandtry @xemilyhill @undiadeestos @loveissupernatural @spideygirl2003 @eridansuwave @rachaeldonnaspiteri1

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tsukoyomi-fumikage · 4 years

Text

Movie Night (Mul-Ships)

Not exactly a fanfic I’m proud of, but it possesses a lot of fluffy-good shit. Movie night at the UA Dorms!

Ships: Denki X Shinso, Jiro X Momo, Shoji X Tokoyami X Koda, Bakugou X Kirishima, Izuku X Todoroki

Now I don’t ship DenkiXShinso, JiroXMomo or IzukuXTodoroki, but I really don’t mind writing fanfiction for them all! (Plus the pairing ShouTokoKoda, I’ve never done that before, but I sort of ship it) This was my first attempt at writing these lot.

Denki Kaminari was beyond excited - Tonight, to celebrate moving in together in the new school dorms, they'd began a new tradition: Movie night! Everyone in class 1-A was invited and somehow, just somehow, the blond had managed to get permission for Shinso to come along to the party. It was going to be so fun!

"Would you stop jumping around?" Came the tired voice of his boyfriend, Hitoshi. The purple-haired teen was sorting out the fixed positions of where everyone would sit for the movie, laying out blankets on the floor to better comfort those sitting on the slightly tough carpet. "Can you help? I don't know who to put here." He pointed at the end of the sofa. "I don't exactly know who's couples in this damn household."

The Class 1-A member looked at the spot. "Hmm, Shoji, Tokoyami and Koji will fit in there." He declared simply before turning to set out the bowls of popcorn. "They can snuggle up - it'll be cute."

"Koji and Shoji I can imagine being boyfriends, but Tokoyami as well?" Shinso gave a low whistle, laying a black blanket down and adorning it with blue pillows. "Damn."

Denki giggled, applying each area with a practically full bowl of sweets and a bowl of snacks. "Yeah but they're so cute together it's unreal."

"We're cute together." The mind-controlling-quirk user whined, brushing back his hair. "Who should sit next to them?"

"Probably Bakugou and Kirishima. Putting the angry-Pomeranian next to the chill kids will be good for the lives of the rest of us. Besides-" He smiled, chucking a pillow in his boyfriends direction and hitting him square on the back of the head. "It means they can smooch and not have to worry about people saying anything."

"You're disgusting...." He seemed as if he wanted to say more, but instead Hitoshi shook his head and went over to the movie selections, rummaging through them quietly.

"We can smooch too if you want!" Kaminari sing-songed. The general-studies student blushed madly, trying to hide his face among the films. "Aw, so cute!" Shinso refused to look at the other boy, but had to agree the idea sounded nice.

"Shut it, Pikachu!" He groaned, trying to sound annoyed. "Let's just find a movie."

"Do you know what movie we're watching?" Kirishima asked from Bakugou's bed, watching as the student paced around the room, trying to find his phone. "I hope it's an action or something - ooh, horror sounds good too!"

Katsuki stopped to look at his boyfriend. "It's stupid, that's why I'm trying to find my phone, so I don't have to watch this bullshit."

The hardening-hero pouted in annoyance, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest. "Oi, that's no way to take a movie night! It's supposed to be fun!" Kirishima was slowly easing towards his best card - "Do it for me?"

They made eye contact just as the older student finally found his phone, and Bakugou snorted. "Fuckin' fine." He dropped the electronic for extra measure. "Only because I love you though." Walking over to the red-haired teen, he sat down besides him, pulling him into a tight hug and pressing his lips dominantly on Kirishima's neck. "You owe me." He growled out.

"I know I do - now let's go!"

"Couldn't this have been tomorrow?" Tokoyami yawned, hands raising to his beak embarrassingly. "I'd much rather sleep."

Koji and Shoji looked at their smallest boyfriend, and the feather-headed boy saw the concern in their eyes. "I just had rough hero-work studies." He supplied, stretching tiredly. "But 'm also in dire need of something to do as well."

The pair knew they couldn't ask about the studies as everything was all confidential information that they understood couldn't be shared with them. 'It must be hard working with Hawks' Koda signed, smiling at the dark-quirk user. 'He's such a fast hero.'

"You aren't wrong there." Shoji chuckled, turning away from the two to grab his sleeveless pajama top, quickly changing out of his regular shirt in favor for this one. "Hawks is an amazing hero though, so it must feel great to study him in person."

"It is." He agreed quietly, nodding along and sitting himself on Mezo's bed, curling his legs underneath him. "Anywho, the movie... I think it's going to be a horror - aren't Shinso and Kaminari picking? Definitely a horror." Everyone voiced their agreements with a low hum. It just made sense.

By the end of the conversation, the tallest had changed out of his usual clothing and he transformed a tentacle into a mouth to smile at his boyfriends. "Let's go then - I'm all done now."

"You excited, babe?"

Jiro couldn't help but blush at the nickname. "Yeah I am." She confessed, not able to hide the thought of being able to watch a movie with all of her classmates - it in itself sounded like a movie. "I'm good to go, how about you?"

Momo was currently going through drawer after drawer trying to find something suitable to wear. "I think I've found something good, but maybe it's too laid-back for a movie night. Help me?"

The smaller girl jumped off of the school desk situated in the corner, coming up to the younger and looking at the clothing choice. It was a soft red cotton top combined with a dark black pair of joggers and some animal socks. Jiro nodded approvingly. "It looks fine, don't worry. Have you never been to a movie night before? It's supposed to be laid back and chill."

Yaoyorozu smiled softly. "I don't normally watch movies - I prefer books and things much more classical." Her black hair bobbed as she leaned down to pick the clothes up before making her way to her personal bathroom. "Be back in a second." She winked.

"I hope it's some form of musical." She rambled on as her girlfriend got changed. "Or like, a horror film - I haven't seen a horror film in ages!"

"Me too!" Came the muffle from the other room, and the door swung open revealing the teen in her comfy clothes, holding neatly folded regular clothes. Placing them down, she grabbed her phone and then Jiro's hand. "Let's go then!"

Midoriya knocked on his boyfriends door, hearing a small 'come in'. Turning the nob, he pushed open the door and leaned against it, eyeing the half cold, half hot hero as he fumbled with his hoodie sleeves, not quite sure whether to pull them down or keep them up. "Are you serious, Todoroki?" He giggled, eyes shining. "You're worried about hoodie sleeves?"

"Yeah." Came the confused voice of his lover. His red and white hair was mixed in the middle as he ran a hand through it, sighing. "I'm just a little nervous." He admitted, smiling sheepishly. "Should I be?"

"What, no, no!" The once quirkless hero gave a smile at the younger. "It's honestly fine, don't worry - movie nights are fun."

Todoroki finally left the sleeves down, walking up to the green-haired teen and placing a kiss on his nose. "You know best." He drawled out, taking his slightly hold hands in his left hand, warming them instantly. "Shall we go, my prince?"

"Oh my God don't call me that!" Deku screeched with embarrassment, hiding his face into the taller's chest. "You're so ridiculous!" He whined, but none the less held his hand as they walked down the corridor to the stairs.

"You love me really."

He sighed. "I do..."

"Who's ready for movie night!" Screamed Sero, clutching the remote as he slumped on the sofa next to Ojiro. The tailed-man covered his left ear from the sound of the deafening scream.

"Jesus dude, you just deafened me!"

Tokoyami piped up from the other side of the room. "Me too!"

Bakugou stormed into the room with kirishima trailing behind him. "And me too, you jackass, Present-Mic wannabe." Everyone burst into laughter at the scene. Hanto sunk into the couch, grinning awkwardly. "What movie we watchin' anyway?"

The blond-haired boy that was Denki stood up, coughing in a way that seemed as if he was about to give a toast. "So, ladies and gentlemen." He bowed at his audience - the only person who was finding this amusing was his boyfriend, so no claps bounced back from the crowd. "Ouch, tough crowd - anyway, we're watching IT."

"Called it!" Sato called from where he was sat, raising his arms up and high-fiving Mina, who was grinning like an idiot. "Hagakure you owe me two thousand and five yen!"

"Aw c'mon!"

Fumikage was curled up in Shoji's many arms by the time all the murder and actual horror began. Despite the screams emmiting from the TV, the student just turned his body around and pressed his beak tiredly into the teens shirt. "'M goin' to sleep." He slurred, feeling Mezo chuckle against him. "Wake me if somethin' happens."

By the time the smallest had actually drifted off, Koda caught sight of what had happened. "Is he asleep?" Came a small squeak - it was far too dark to sign to his boyfriends, so he knew he had to talk. Shoji lowered his arms a little to reveal the soft-feathered boy cradled in his arms. "Awww."

"How are you finding the movie, Koda?" The taller asked, shifting Fumikage slightly so they both wouldn't get sore. "Not too scary for you, right?"

The Ani-Voice hero shook his head, grinning shyly before turning back to look at the screen. "I'm all good - it's only a little bit scary."

Making another tentacle and changing it into a hand, he slipped it into Koda's own, and watched as Koji jumped before settling and leaning closer to the taller teenager. "Thanks." He whispered.

"Ey, Tokoyami is out cold." Denki couldn't hold back the snicker as he leaned against the back of the sofa and his boyfriend collectively. "Guess the horror doesn't scare him that much."

"To be totally honest with you." Shinso didn't looked impressed either. "I thought the movie was supposed to be better."

Kaminari gaped at the purple-haired male. "I'm not wrong - I mean, look at him! He's a clown!"

A sudden rough chuckle cut them off of their thoughts. Bakugou's blond hair flopped loosely as he jolted himself into the conversation. "I agree but shut the fuck up you mind-controlling bastard and you too, dunce-face."

Raising his hands in a silent surrender, the younger smiled in a way he hoped looked non threatening and civilized - he would rather not start a fight. "Alright, alright."

"Dude, did you have to do that?" Kirishima was curled up against Bakugou's side, resting his head on his shoulder as he watched the movie. "I was all comfy till you moved."

"Sorry." Katsuki grumbled. "Those idiots deserved telling off - who talks during a movie?"

Ejiro deadpanned, lifting his face to look him straight in the eye. "When we went for our first movie date you yammered on throughout the whole thing, man. And even now you're talking over it!"

Luckily the darkness hid his blush as his boyfriend yabbered on about his behavior towards others and how he did the 'same exact thing as them'. "Alright, I get it!" He snapped and Kirishima grinned, softly poofing his head back onto his shoulder.

"Good, that was getting boring. I love you though~"

"Love you too." He grumbled, voice dripping with sarcasim that obviously meant nothing to the younger as he wrapped his arms around the blond happily.

"Oh mon ami that was gorgeous." The sparkly-hero whispered from the floor, eyes twinkling up at them and mouth stretched in its usual v-shaped smile.

"Shut the fuck up, Aoyama."

Jiro was around seventy percent sure Yaoyorozu was asleep from the way her body was slumped against her, heavy and warm. Her breathing was soft and gentle, and the smaller had to try and conceal the squeal of 'Oh my God she's so cute!' .

"To answer your question, yes." Ojiro smiled down at her and she looked up at him, startled at first. "She is asleep."

Hagakure giggled from the other side of the music-loving student. "I can take a photo if you want!"

Although the purple-haired girl thought that maybe Momo didn't want that, she had to give in - Momo had so many photos of her that it just seemed fair. The invisible girl quickly snapped a photo with the flash on, momentarily blinking everyone there. Someone groaned in annoyance off to their far right, and it happened to wake the sleeping student up from her small nap.

She took one look at the giggling girl holding a phone and an embarrassed Jiro and put together the story of what just happened quite quickly. "I'm going to kill you, Haga'." She said sweetly, pursing her lips at the woman that she couldn't even see. "Just you wait."

"You can try!"

"What are they even talking about, they do realize this is a movie night right? Not some girls photo-snapping night." Shoto asked quietly from where he was positioned, laying on the back of the couch, knees slightly bent to accompany the weight that was his boyfriend's head.

"It's just them being funny." Izuku said, chuckling at his lovers annoyed confusion. "Just ignore them, Todoroki. Look-" He pointed to the screen which was turned on its side for him considering he was laying sideways. "-The kids are gonna try kill Pennywise."

"Not a smart move." Iida said from besides them, pushing his glasses up. "I would have just called the police." He declared. Shoji laughed from behind them.

"I don't think that's how it works in the movies, Tenya." He spoke softly, as to not wake the slumbering people around him - Koji had only just fallen asleep, and Tokoyami was well out of it now. "It's for effect."

Shoto sighed. "But still, they could've brought more than a couple of lousy axes and a bat." Waving his hands around slightly, he mimicked their horrible fighting. "Ahh, take this, Pennywise! - So stupid."

"They are called the losers club, ribbit." Supplied Asui from the front of the couple. She smiled back at them: "Only makes sense they fight like losers too." Before turning back to the screen excitedly.

The rest of the fight was held in silence until it was confirmed the losers won - "You've got to be shitting me, that clown is so weak!" Screamed Bakugou, making everyone jump about five miles in the air. It was so loud it even woke Tokoyami's Dark Shadow up - the quirk popped out of the body in pure shock.

"Yo, dude, what the fuck I was sleeping."

They all started at the shadow, then burst out laughing. This had to happen more often.

#bnha kamishin #bnha momojiro #bnha tododeku #bnha bakukiri #bnha shoutokokoda #bnha fanfiction #movie night #bnha drabble #bnha fanfic #bnha random #bnha all characters #bnha shinso #bnha shotoko

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loquaciousquark · 5 years

Text

Hey, all, I’m probably not going to be around much for a few months aside from queues & TM posts.

Work stress has taken over my life in a way it never has before. A very long story short, my closest coworker (both friend-wise and workload-wise) took another job that began at the end of April. While she knew from November she was going to take this job, she did not inform administration until the very final contractual required moment of 30 days out. This means there has been no chance for admin to be looking for long-term qualified candidates to replace her position, since to get hired on at the school even on a temporary faculty basis takes about six-eight weeks.

(She told me about this job in November, but made me promise at the time not to tell anyone because she was going to tell them soon. Then, as schedules were being planned out for this summer and her time was being allotted under the assumption she would be there, she deliberately said nothing and made me answer the emails so she wouldn’t be “lying.” I have known this hell has been coming for me for five months and haven’t been able to do anything about it because I gave her my word.)

In addition, while not her fault, three other administrative support employees and two other faculty members have left/will be leaving in less than a month as well. One employee’s family member died unexpectedly, one employee was grossly incompetent (although I can’t remember the last time we actually fired someone for that), and the other faculty members are leaving for really good jobs elsewhere. Just very unfortunate timing that means we are all spread excruciatingly thin for now.

This all comes at a time where I am actively beginning that Service Director position for the primary care clinic on top of everything else. This position, while I think a great fit for me, what else I teach in the school, and how I plan/organize/relate to the students, has come at a terrible time because it in and of itself is a massive amount of work, especially getting it off the ground. If I’m going to implement all these new policies and changes I’ve been dreaming of for years, I need to do it at the beginning of my tenure--to try and keep everything going the way it has been and change later once everything calms down would be infinitely more work at that time & have a bunch more pushback from both the students and the faculty I now lead as part of this clinic, many of which have decades of seniority on me.

I’m doing the work of two-and-a-half full-time faculty right now. I do still really love this job, but right now I can’t handle it.

I’m grinding my teeth at night and clenching my jaw during the day. My dentist suddenly wants me to get a bite plate when before a few months ago, I’d never ground my teeth in my life. I’m getting excruciating stress/tension headaches almost every other day from how tight every muscle of my face and neck is. I’ve gained over ten pounds in the last two months from eating like crap because anything that requires more than two steps of prep is mentally, physically, and emotionally impossible, which has the added effect of making me want to cry every time I look in a mirror and see my stomach so far away from my mental “normal,” because I was already seven pounds or so more than I wanted to be. I’m only getting three or four hours of sleep a night despite melatonin because my mind is just reciting checklist after checklist of things I need to do to keep all my sudden responsibilities on track.

I saw my psychiatrist today (which in and of itself was overwhelming--I thought until I was leaving for the appointment that today was my annual physical, and it wasn’t until I was checking the auto-filled address that I realized it was in the wrong building for that. Turns out I’d independently scheduled both the psych follow-up & the physical within a few days of each other, and I’d missed the text appointment reminders for the physical because the psych ones were more recent. I have never straight up no-showed an appointment in my life before this.)

I only had about thirty minutes with her, but part of the problem is that I haven’t taken my meds regularly in over a month because even such a little thing was too difficult. I’m going to try to start back on that, but...

I told her it doesn’t feel like I’m trying to keep plates spinning in the air. It feels like I have them all under control at the moment, they’re just excruciatingly heavy. The only way I’ve been handling this sudden pressure of doing basically two and a half jobs with no margin for error in any of them is being ruthlessly, relentlessly organized. Which is fine, except that I can feel how that changes my personality when I have to go so hard and regimented, and I hate how it feels to have both no margin and no grace.

I had a student the other day email me about a flight she booked for a Memorial Day vacation at 6pm on a Friday, not thinking about how clinic does not always end on the dot at 5pm. We (both students and faculty) are required to stay until the patient’s exam is complete. Sometimes that’s at five. Sometimes that’s at 6:30. On rare occasions I’ve stayed until 9pm in clinical care because that’s what was needed at the time for that patient.

She wanted to get out of clinic with an excused absence. We require three weeks’ minimum notice because when a student leaves without coverage, we have to reschedule all the patients they were meant to see. Her schedule was fully booked, and I had to say no, because right now I have nothing left to try to find an alternative for her. I hate saying no to students, especially when it’s something I truly could help them solve with some investment on my part, but right now--I’m sorry, but I can’t. Why on earth did you schedule a flight for 6pm on a day you have clinic until 5, especially when the airport is a 20-minute drive from the school even without traffic? I can’t fix this for you, not right now. You have to show up to clinic or find your own coverage. I don’t care how you do it, but someone has to be there, and I don’t have anything left in me to help you figure out how to do it.

My mom listens to a guy who sometimes talks about how you have to have a margin in your life to manage your stress. A margin in your work helps you enjoy your leisure time; if you don’t have that margin, even scheduled play feels stressful because you have work playing through your head the whole time.

I’m out of margin. I’m ten feet over the line in every direction I’m so out of margin, and I am constantly being asked by students and other faculty, “How are you doing now that the person who you shared 90% of your work life with is gone? Who’s going to help take over [year-long highly-intensive Methods course] now that Dr. So-and-So is gone? Who’s going to help you teach it since we all know what a gigantic course it is and how it’s always required two people to run full-time, and now you’re down to one who’s also taken on a bunch of other responsibilities at the exact same time?”

and they’re laughing when they say it. and i’m laughing when i tell them the truth, which is “no one.” and we all laugh together and inside my head i am ripping apart under the pressure.

Even if they hire someone by August, it’s not going to mean any relief until September due to onboarding, and even then it won’t be what I really need. This woman I worked with and I had both taught this course together for years, and before that we’d both taken it as students. We knew how it ran inside and out. We knew what the responsibilities were. We had the workload divided evenly and didn’t have to consult over every decision that was made--it just got done. Even if they do hire someone at lightning speed, I still have to train them. I have to show them where the group drive is on the faculty intranet. I have to teach them how it’s organized. I have to show them how to upload quizzes and how to grade them and how to edit the Excel practical documents and the timeframe we expect the grades back and why our grading standards are the way they are and what to say to guest graders and guest lab instructors and show them where the file folders are kept and where the .docx’s are kept and the way things are sorted and how the tests are written and how to extensively edit a PDF file and give them the contact information for faculty IT support (which still ends up being me half the time) and the manual printer and the woman who orders office supplies and the woman who orders clinical equipment and the man who orders building maintenance supplies and when you go to one and not the other and how electronic testing works and how to grade it and how to upload a document with all the specific little requirements the program wants to make sure it imports correctly and how to deal with the errors this program will inevitably throw back because it’s niche software for a niche school and that means it’ll never be user friendly.

It took me almost two years to really feel comfortable being co-coursemaster for this course because it is so unbelievably massive. Even if they hire someone by August, I still won’t have a full-time coursemaster pulling their weight until 2021.

The other metaphor I used with my psychiatrist is that I’m holding on to a cliff’s edge with my fingertips. Right now, I’ve got a pretty decent grip, but that doesn’t change the fact that if you put another pound on my back it might pull me right off the rock.

I don’t see practical relief coming any time soon. “What can we do to help? We want you to know you are very supported right now. You let us know what you need.” What can you do? Hire someone tomorrow who already knows how our computer system works, who can troubleshoot their own IT, who can look at a list of tasks that need to happen to get this Methods course fully ready every single semester of every single year and do them without any handholding from me. Hire someone with as much attention to detail as I’ve had to have because it’s the right way to do the damn job. Hire someone I won’t have to clean up after because to them “the cart in the closet” is the same thing as “the specific place on the labeled closet shelf where the equipment belongs.”

I’m clenching my teeth so hard they’re hurting, so I guess I have to stop. If you see me in-game somewhere, believe me, it’s not because I’ve caught up. It’s because I haven’t and I can’t bear thinking about how much I still have to do.

#quark rambles #optometry /#kindly refrain from reblogging

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nebulous-frog · 5 years

Text

Anxious

Summary: It can be hard to identify anxiety sometimes, which makes it harder to deal with. Sometimes, Phil needs a little help to pull himself out of it.

Word Count: 1930

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Some Angst, Some Fluff

Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety, some swearing

Author’s Note: This is based off some of my own experiences with anxiety, but this is not the only way it presents itself. This is not to say that Phil does have anxiety or to try to assume his experiences if he does, it’s just fiction.

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

The media portrays anxiety as shaking, panting, and chaos. It’s associated with violence; it’s an “anxiety attack” for a reason. People think it only manifests itself with that clear terror. For Phil, it’s not always so obvious.

He doesn’t always know when it will happen. Some days, he wakes up with an itch in the back of his mind that he has to do something and he has to do it now now now and it grows and builds into something worse, but it sneaks up on him more often than not. Sometimes, there’s such a subtle build-up that he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until Dan intervenes.

Today is one of those days. He’s been under stress lately, worrying about putting out content fast enough while still having time for himself and Dan. It’s not an uncommon place for him to be, so he thinks it’s fine. He’s handled it in the past when he’s been even more stressed with tours and travel, so why should now be any different?

He’s been working diligently on a video and he’s almost done editing, so he plans to post over the weekend. He even tells his audience to expect the video in the next two days because he’s that confident that everything will go well between now and then.

As per usual, Phil watches through his video when he thinks he’s done editing, just to be sure. Normally, there’s nothing more to be done and he’s ready to post, but there’s one part of this particular video that seems off. It’s stupid, really; no one will care if there’s one second too long before a jumpcut, but Phil goes back through and cuts off a bit more from the take. He watches it again and frowns because now it’s too short. With the push of a few buttons, it’s back to how it was, but it’s still too long. Phil sighs in annoyance, picking up one of the toggles on his sweatshirt and biting it, but tries to fix the video again. He adjusts the cut back and forth, shorter and longer, but his dissatisfaction grows with every attempt.

He finally decides to let it go for now and see if the rest of the video is fine. If there are other issues, he can fix those and then go back with fresh eyes. He starts from the beginning and works his way through. Phil’s frown turns into a glare and his leg begins to bounce under the desk as his annoyance turns to agitation. The rest of the video is okay. Only okay. Actually, the longer he watches, the less okay it seems. He picks out bits from the editing that he thinks are sloppy, but then he analyzes his delivery of the script he’d written and the way he’d filmed and he thinks the whole video is pretty bad. His voice is too chipper, the colors are too bright, his timing is all wrong. From there, he considers the script itself. For the life of him, he can’t imagine why he thought it was good when he went to film it. Why did this video even exist in the first place? Who did he think would want to watch it?

He takes off his headphones and tosses them on the desk in disgust, burying his face in his hands. His video is dull and boring; he is dull and boring. He’d just promised his audience a new video, but there’s no way he can post this mess! They’d hate it, and then everyone would unsubscribe, and then he and Dan would be homeless nobodies, especially if Dan continued his social media break.

Phil shakes his head. What is he thinking? His audience isn’t like that! They love anything he puts out, don’t they? He isn’t sure anymore.

“How’s the video going, love?” asks a quiet voice from the office door.

Phil jumps, removing his hands from his face; he hadn’t heard Dan approach. He shoots Dan a weak smile, spitting the sweatshirt toggle out from between his teeth.

“It’s fine,” he lies. It’s not fine at all. It’s probably the worst video he’s made in years, a disaster waiting to upload. He should take it as a sign that he’s burning out; he’s been doing this for over ten years, he’s run out of good ideas, and that’s not to mention the pace he’s set for himself after so long with no schedule. He can’t do it, and this video is the evidence. It’s just bad, and that’s completely unacceptable.

But Dan doesn’t need to hear any of that. He has enough on his mind without Phil pulling him down any further, and, besides, these complaints are meaningless, unimportant. He can handle them just fine on his own. No need to drag someone else into it.

He watches as Dan takes in the bouncing leg, the chewed toggle, the empty coffee mugs, the video still playing on the screen, and knows there’s no way Dan believes him.

But Dan doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he tilts his head down to look at the floor, his lips stretch into a sad smile, and he steps closer to Phil. One hand reaches up to cup the side of Phil’s face and his thumb gently strokes the bone.

“You’ve been in here a while,” he comments. “Take a break with me?”

Phil bites his lip, glancing back at the editing software open on his computer. He really ought to fix that jumpcut. Even if the rest of the video is bad, at least he can say that one part is fine and then he can upload it and keep pretending his channel is surviving.

“I don’t know, there’s just a little more to do. I’m almost done. There’s one cut that’s weird and I want to fix it,” Phil says in a rush. “It’s not really cooperating right now, though. I make it shorter and it’s too short and then I try to make it longer and it’s back to being too long, and then I go back short and-”

“That’s okay,” Dan interrupts in a calm whisper. “Do you want me to help?”

Phil hesitates, biting his lip again. Bringing Dan into it is a good idea because Dan is always a good second opinion with editing, but he worries that Dan won’t see the problem. Or maybe Dan will see the larger problem that is the video as a whole and tell Phil it’s all terrible. He already knows it’s terrible, but hearing it from Dan would make it all worse. Then this problem would be real and he’d have to deal with it, and that would include Dan’s disappointment, and he hates to disappoint Dan, he really-

“Phil?”

Dan sounds more concerned this time, so Phil turns to look at him. His forehead is creased with worry. His thumb reaches down to Phil’s lip, gently pulling it out from between his teeth.

“Ouch,” Phil mumbles. He raises a hand to his lip and it comes away red. “Shit.”

Dan reaches over and saves the video file then closes out of the program.

“But-” Phil reaches out to stop Dan, but it’s too late.

“It’ll be there for you later. It’s okay,” Dan reassures. He catches Phil’s hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s take care of your lip.”

Phil lets out a resigned sigh and lets Dan pull him out of his chair.

“I’ll come right back and finish it after, then,” he decides.

Dan sends him a small smile. “Let’s start by getting your lip cleaned up, yeah?”

He leads Phil over to the bathroom so they can see it better, then tears off some of the toilet roll.

“This’ll be kind of gross, sorry,” Dan says, pressing the tissue to the inside of Phil’s lip. He carefully dabs at the blood, keeping as much of it from getting into Phil’s mouth as possible. A few minutes later, he’s done, throwing away the tissue and washing his hands. He turns back to Phil and cups his face with both hands. “Is that better?”

Phil shrugs. His mind is already back on the video, trying to figure out how he could possibly salvage the mess he’d filmed so he could still post tomorrow.

Dan leans forward and presses the softest of kisses to Phil’s lips. “It’s okay, love.” He pushes his hand farther to brush through the hair on the back of Phil’s neck, then kisses him again, a little firmer this time. He pulls away and kisses Phil’s cheek, pulling Phil’s head in to rest in the crook of his neck before kissing his temple. “It’s alright.”

The tension doesn’t immediately leave Phil’s body, but he lets himself be kissed and hugged, eventually wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist and burying his nose more fully in his neck. He inhales deeply, finding reassurance in the familiar scent of his boyfriend. His emotions are stuck in stress and worry too much for him to truly appreciate Dan’s care, but he knows he’ll be grateful later, once his mind stops holding him captive.

They stay in the hug for a while longer before Dan pulls back slightly.

“Cuddles in bed, under the nice warm duvet?” he suggests.

Phil nods, so Dan pulls back all the way. He catches Phil’s hand with his own and brings it to his lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Phil doesn’t feel like speaking. He’s still too keyed up, too stressed, and it’s exhausting. Dan knows Phil loves him, anyway. Instead of using words, he settles for leaning in to kiss Dan’s cheek.

Together, they head over to their room. Once inside, Dan gently kisses Phil again, sending little tingles of warmth through his system. A little of the tension leaves his shoulders and he finds he can breathe easier. It’s not enough to fully relax him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

They pull apart briefly to strip down to their boxers and climb into bed, where they immediately wrap their arms around each other. Phil lies half on top of Dan, his head resting on his chest and their legs tangled together. Dan brings a hand up to pet through Phil’s hair, occasionally leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple.

Sleep, or maybe Dan, beckons Phil, convincing him that it’s alright, the audience will still be there tomorrow. Rest now. Now that he’s being held by a warm Dan in a soft bed, he finds himself finally relaxing. The stress and worry of before is melting away, leaving behind an exhaustion that can only come from anxiety.

He can name it now; earlier, he hadn’t even noticed what was happening. But now he sees the signs that led to the worst of it, he sees how it switched from a general form of stress into the anxiety that fixated tight on one problem and tried to expand it to more problems that weren’t really there. Now, he can recognize and appreciate Dan’s care and fall in love with Dan just a little bit more.

Tomorrow, Phil will look at the video again, this time with Dan. Dan will maybe offer a few tips here or there, but overall tell him it’s wonderful, as always. He won’t tell Phil he was ridiculous for being so anxious about it, because he knows Phil can’t help it; instead, he’ll offer quiet encouragements as Phil puts on the finishing touches and uploads it and reward him with more cuddles and kisses.

#phan #phanfic #hurt/comfort #established relationship

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Chapter One

Chapter Two

After Dan and Mona have served breakfast to the two - yes, just two - couples staying at the hotel, they clear everything away, leaving the tablecloths out for the lunch service in a few hours. As they are pretty much cut off from civilisation up here, guests are served three meals a day, along with optional extra nibbles sent to their rooms upon request. It takes Dan a full day of quietly observing, but he eventually comes to understand that The Secret of the Alps is not a place people come for adventure, or entertainment.

The hotel is instead a serene, atmospheric getaway, isolated high up in the scenic Swiss Alps, away from the stresses of civilisation. People come here not for planned activities, but to spend time alone, or with each other, reading books by the fire, playing scrabble, or taking the occasional guided walk around the safe paths of the mountain. These walks are led by Kaspar, who can be called up a day in advance. There’s a jacuzzi and sauna outside at the back of the hotel for guests to enjoy, a small gym, and a lounge stocked with a wide range of books and board games as Dan has seen. Louise is available for cooking classes if guests are interested, and each night Mona puts on a film for the guests in the mezzanine area; Louise makes buttery popcorn and Bailey’s hot chocolate for everyone, and if people are feeling social, sometimes they loiter there well into the night, chatting.

It’s probably not what Dan would choose for a holiday, but he understands the appeal. If you were some corporate lawyer-type drowning in fast-paced city life, it would be tempting to come somewhere remote and distant, where the WiFi is shocking enough that nobody can really contact you.

“So, for this week, I’m just going to have you follow me around, like you have been today,” Mona explains to Dan in a hushed voice. His shift is almost over, and the evening film is just starting for the guests. She and Dan are at the back of the mezzanine lounge, stood next to the serving hatch, through which Louise is leaning, chin in her hand as she watches the opening credits roll. “That way you’ll get used to the routine.”

“Sounds good,” Dan says.

He met Louise earlier, as he brought through the dirty plates after dinner, and though their exchange was only brief, he feels that she’s the type of dry, sarcastic person he could eventually be friends with.

“You say that, but Mona’s a tyrant,” Louise mutters, and Mona shoots her a stern look. “If you need a break from the whip-cracking, come find me. I’ll keep you caffeinated, it’ll make the week go faster.”

“Anyway,” Mona says pointedly, “things don’t differ much day-to-day here, as you’ll come to learn.” Louise makes a grunting sound of assent. “By the end of the week, I reckon you’ll have the routine down, and then we can start giving you some more independence. Manning reception on your own, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” Dan says, stifling a yawn. “Cool.”

“I think Dan might be about to fall asleep on his feet,” Louise says amusedly, making Dan straighten up.

“N-no, I’m awake,” he says hurriedly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to the long days yet, and it’s dark in here-”

Mona laughs, then pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. This job can be boring and somehow exhausting at once. You can call it a night, I’ll see you bright and early.”

Dan smiles at her gratefully, then yelps as Louise reaches out and pinches his arm. Two of the guests watching the movie turn around at the high-pitched squeal, making Louise giggle.

“Night, Dan.”

“Night,” he says, and then scurries towards the stairs.

By the time he gets to the top floor his knees are about to give way; he pauses in the hallway, digging in his pocket for his room key, more than ready for this day to be over. It hasn’t been awful, just long and strenuous. As he pulls out the key, he notices a sliver of yellow light beneath the door of room eight, the one beside his. For a long moment, Dan stares at this light, his overtired brain struggling to work out what it could mean. Mona mentioned that she sleeps on the ground floor, in a room attached to the office. Louise and all of the other guests are still downstairs watching the film, so it can’t be any of them, unless one of them inexplicably left their light on.

Too tired to consider this further, Dan lets himself into his own room, deciding he’ll just ask Mona about it tomorrow. Once again, he barely makes it to the bed - though this time he does manage to pull on pyjamas - before curling up in the thick covers and letting the tears fall.

He’s well into becoming a gross mess - nose running heavily, eyes piggy and sore - when he hears something odd enough to make him pause. A waft of soft, calming notes, shaping a sweet melody, filtering into his room through the wall behind his bed. He sits up against the pillows, ears straining, his face damp. He’s so puzzled by the music that he forgets why he’s crying, and just listens. In the stillness of the night, the music is the sole sound, worming its way beneath Dan’s skin, and settling into his weary bones.

He has just enough wakefulness left in his brain to wonder how classical music could be playing at a range close enough for him to hear right now, considering everyone else is supposedly downstairs watching Ocean’s Eleven. Before he can think of any answer, however, he is slipping down into the mattress, and then right through it, until he’s floating into a sea of dream.

It’s eight o’clock in the evening, and Dan’s second day is winding down. He is at the front desk, which he's beginning to recognise as his base camp for the times of day when he’s without pressing tasks - which is often. Mona’s base camp is the office behind the reception desk, where she does scary managerial business like handling the accounts and speaking to investors.

At the moment Mona is upstairs in the kitchen, asking Louise to make she and Dan something to eat, as the dinner rush is over now. Just as Dan is about to give in and dig in his pocket for his phone to alleviate the boredom, he hears the back door that leads to the jacuzzi and sauna opening. The door is around the corner from the reception desk, hidden from Dan’s view, but he straightens in his seat nonetheless, preparing to make polite small talk with one of the guests.

To his total astonishment, a man walks into the lobby that he has never seen before. He’s wearing one of the robes left for guests in each room, as well as the complimentary slippers. The robe is loosely tied around his waist, as if it might undo itself any moment, and reveal the long, toned, naked body beneath. His black hair is wet, dripping to his shoulders. As he passes the desk, he aims a vague smile at what he clearly assumes will be Mona, as when he sees Dan sat there, he does a double take.

Fixed in place by two inhumanly blue eyes, Dan cannot find a single word to utter. This man is an apparition, serene and impossible. How is he here? Dan has met all of the guests and staff. Mona would surely have told him if there were anyone else by this point. They are up the side of a mountain, with no means of being reached save for a private plane or a death-defying cable car ride, so he can’t be an intruder, yet Dan cannot think of another explanation. He thinks of shouting for Mona, but still he cannot summon his voice.

“Hi,” the man says, half-mumbled.

He doesn’t stop walking, so Dan has no chance to respond even if he could, and then the man is climbing the stairs to the mezzanine, and disappearing out of sight. Ten minutes later, when Mona reappears, Dan explains to her what just happened in a rush, the words spilling out as if whatever had stoppered them up before has been violently uncorked at her reappearance.

“Ah, yes,” Mona says, clearing her throat. She hands him a bowl of what looks like chilli, with a slice of crusty bread. “That’s Mr Novokoric,” she says. “He’s our… special guest. Don’t concern yourself with him right now.”

“He’s a guest?”

Mona hesitates. “Yes.”

“He didn’t come for breakfast,” Dan points out, bewildered. “Or lunch, or dinner.”

“Mr Novokoric has his meals in his room,” Mona says briskly, fidgeting with obvious discomfort. “When he eats at all, that is,” she mutters, lower. “I will explain about all that later, Dan,” she promises. “For now, let’s just focus on the main aspects of the job, getting your routine in place...”

She rambles on about the responsibilities he’s still getting to terms with, and he half-listens, unable to stop the hundreds of questions about this mysterious ‘other’ guest from swooshing around in his mind. With a lot of effort, and mostly because he feels his and Mona’s professional relationship is still in its infancy, he swallows his curiosity down with a spoonful of piping hot chilli.

The following morning, Dan’s third working at The Secret of the Alps, he is up even earlier than usual. He’d gotten more sleep than his previous two nights, thanks to the music that again drifted through the wall to staunch his free-flowing tears.

The light filtering through the window is still too startling to ignore however, so he abandons any attempt at staying in bed, and dresses quickly, hoping to impress Mona with his work ethic by getting an extra early start. Sure enough, he’s the first one to reach the front desk, though he can hear Mona in her room at the back of the office shuffling around - perhaps gluing her unmoving bun in position with industrial strength adhesive. Whatever she’s up to, Dan knows he doesn’t have long before she emerges, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so he sets himself up at the desk and attempts to look productive. As he skims through the hotel brochure, scanning photos of happy families in bobble-hats, and wine-flushed couples in front of log fires, his mind wanders back down the mountain, to his old life - his real life - which lurks menacingly below him, claws outstretched, ready to snatch him back the moment he peeks over the precipice.

He hears vague footsteps on the stairs, and assumes it must be Louise, as she’s the only other person he could conceive might be up this early. He and Louise have struck up an instant colloquial rapport which he’s grateful for, even in the few days he’s been here, so Dan says, without looking up, “unngh, need caffeine, Lou. I’ll tip my head back and you just pour the coffee down my throat, kay?”

He expects, of course, one of Louise’s snarky yet fond comebacks, probably focused on how inadvertently sexual that request sounded. He waits for the cut of her steel tongue, but it doesn’t come. Dan looks up, and meets the two vibrant blue eyes he remembers from yesterday evening, over which two dark eyebrows are arched high on a pale, exposed forehead. At once, Dan flushes, shutting the brochure with a slap, and sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Oh, God, sorry, I thought you were someone else. Um, good morning-” Dan struggles to recall the name Mona had given this man last night - Novak? Novorak? He’s not sure. “...Sir.” Best to be on the safe side. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

The blue-eyed man doesn’t pause, crossing the lobby towards the door, but he does shake his head slightly in response to Dan’s question. He’s a startling thing to behold so early in the morning. His shock of onyx hair contrasts against the scarlet snow-jacket he’s wearing. It takes Dan a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sheer vibrancy of him, and an even longer moment to realise that tucked beneath his arm are two cherry-red skis.

Skiing and snowboarding is not a good idea up here, Mona’s voice echoes in his head. The mountain is treacherous and unpredictable, so stress that to guests...

Dan jumps to his feet at once, heart already in his throat as he watches the man nearing the front door, apparently about to walk outside and strap those skis to his feet, then most likely hurl himself to his untimely death.

“Oh, S-Sir, hold on,” Dan calls out, jogging out from the desk and over towards the man, who has turned to him with such an expression of astonishment that it’s as if Dan had begun to perform a striptease right in the middle of the lobby. “S-sorry,” Dan says, stepping towards him more cautiously now, “but I’m afraid you’re not allowed to ski here.”

One of those dark eyebrows arches upwards again. “Excuse me?”

“It’s… not permitted for guests to ski,” Dan says hurriedly; he can feel a steady blossoming of burst capillaries in either cheek. “The mountain is, um,” what did Mona say? “...treacherous. You could be hurt.”

A long moment passes, during which time Dan begins to wonder if maybe he should repeat himself, slower, as perhaps this man doesn’t understand English very well.

“What’s your name?” the man asks eventually, in the sort of voice Dan recognises from all the times he’s dealt with petulant, ‘I-want-to-speak-to-the-manager’ type middle-aged women in the retail jobs he’s worked.

“Dan,” he replies, swallowing.

“I assume you’re the new concierge, Dan?”

“Well… yes.”

“Right.” The man hitches his skis up into the crook of his arm. “I suggest that next time you decide you have any right to come up and reprimand me, that you consult with your boss before making a fool of yourself.”

He says this in such a calm monotone that it takes Dan a few seconds to realise how rudely he’s just been spoken to. He blushes again, absurdly. “I-I’m really very sorry, Sir, but I can’t allow you to leave the hotel with those skis.”

The man fixes him with a glare that would put the Real Housewives to shame. “And what is it that you’re going to do to stop me, Dan?”

“Well… I’ll, um-”

Dan is saved from finishing this sentence by the sound of Mona’s kitten heels tapping hurriedly across the wooden floor. As she gets closer, Dan can hear that she is muttering “oh, dear god” repeatedly under her breath. Relieved that he is no longer on his own in this situation, Dan takes a subtle step backwards from the hostile guest. He averts his gaze from those hard, cold blue eyes as he waits for Mona to assert her prim, managerial dominance over this man, and confiscate his forbidden sports equipment.

“I am so sorry Mr Novokoric,” she blurts, much to Dan’s horror. “Please forgive Dan, he only arrived yesterday and isn’t yet aware of your special circumstances.”

Mr Novokoric huffs an impatient sigh, but nods tightly. “Might I recommend offering treats to help him learn faster.”

“Very funny, Mr Novokoric,” Mona says with a polite, false-sounding laugh. Dan’s cheeks are now rivalling the man’s jacket, he’s certain. Surely he can’t have just implied Dan were a dog, and Mona is simply laughing. To Dan’s abject bafflement, she then seems to actually give a small bow of her head. Where is his stern, no-nonsense, manageress in shining armour? This is not the same woman he recognises from the last two days. “We’ll have Dan up to speed in no time. This won’t happen again.”

Mr Novokoric nods again, sliding a final, disapproving look towards Dan for good measure before muttering something like ‘alright then’, and slipping out of the door. As soon as Dan is relatively sure the man is out of earshot, he turns to Mona, scandalised.

“Please explain to me what just happened,” he says, as calmly as he can manage given that he is utterly seething. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Mona says, then considers this. “Well, yes, but you weren’t to know. It’s my fault, I was trying to ease you in, but I should have discussed Mr Novokoric’s special case sooner. I apologise for that. I didn’t think you’d have the chance to speak to him without me being there.”

Dan waits for her to continue, but she simply turns away, strolling determinedly back towards the desk, and nimbly side-stepping the entire issue. “Well, I would appreciate being filled in now,” Dan says, hot on her heels. “I don’t fancy being on the receiving end of one of Mr Nobby-whatsit’s glacial stares again any time soon.”

Mona sighs, smoothing down the non-existent stray hairs from her high bun. “All right,” she says after a moment of deliberation. She gestures for him to follow her, and moves towards the stairs up to the mezzanine. “Come up and have some breakfast. We can discuss it - briefly - as we eat.”

For some reason, Dan’s heart is fluttering in his chest. He tries to imagine what possible secrets are about to be revealed to him surrounding this mysterious, moody ski-enthusiast. Perhaps Mr Novo-whatever is some sort of secret agent, using his skis to swoop from mission to mission. Or perhaps he’s a mentally-unstable ex-patient of some nearby facility that could no longer afford to keep him due to his hostile nature.

He’s so caught up in these various possibilities that he doesn’t realise he’s followed Mona into the kitchen until Louise is pushing a bowl of porridge into his hands. The letter ‘D’ is drizzled on top in syrup, and there are blueberries scattered across the surface.

“Oh, wow,” he says, chuffed. He aims a grateful smile at Louise. “D for Dan?”

She cocks her head to one side, frowning. “Huh. Didn’t think of that. I was going for Dick-brain.”

Dan snorts, but digs straight in; it’s thick, warm and sweet. “Orgasmic as usual, Lou. Got any coffee to go with it?”

“It’s blueberry, honey and cinnamon,” Louise tells him enthusiastically, her front two gap-teeth bared. She’s already at the coffee machine, turning vials and spurting steam without needing to look at what she’s doing. “Is it the best porridge you’ve ever had?”

He considers this for a moment, then bites down on a blueberry, which bursts out a tangy, tart flavour that mixes so deliciously with the sweet syrup, that Dan actually moans. “Oh, hands down.”

Pleased with this response, Louise makes his coffee double strength, which Dan notices, and hopes Mona doesn’t. “I like this one, Mo,” Louise calls over the hissing of steam as she makes Mona a cappuccino. “Don’t go scaring him off like you did the last one.”

Dan wonders if the failure and possible trauma of his predecessor should alarm him, but finds that he’s too busy enjoying the blissful experience of Louise’s porridge to really care. Besides, he’s already here now, has already given up his life back in England to do this; it’s going to have to be something really stupendously terrifying to chase him back to the ruins of what he left behind.

“I did not scare that little nitwit off,” Mona says sniffily. “She was far too sensitive. I only told her she couldn’t fold a towel to save her life. Which is not true of Dan, so it’s all fine.”

“Yeah yeah,” Louise says, pouring foam. She walks over and hands the cappuccino to Mona, giving her a look. “Just don’t hurl him into the deep end without a life raft.”

“Well I was trying to ease him in,” Mona says with a heavy sigh. She blows on the coffee, then plucks a teaspoon from nearby and scoops some froth into her mouth. “But I took my eye off him for two seconds and he went squaring up to the beast.”

Louise makes a face halfway between a grimace and a grin, turning to Dan. “So, you’ve met His Lordship, then?”

Dan snorts into his near-empty bowl. “Is that what you call him? He does act as if he’s Royalty.” Mona and Louise exchange a look so loaded with unspoken somethings that Dan actually pauses, spoon of porridge halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Louise chuckles, seemingly to herself, and turns to uncover what looks like a delicious homemade loaf of bread, which she immediately begins sawing into thick slices for the guest breakfast. Dan turns to Mona, sensing that Louise is not going to be the forthcoming one here. Mona’s fidgeting, which seems unusual for her, not that Dan is the best judge given that he’s only known her forty-eight hours.

“Dan,” she says eventually, seeming to navigate some internal minefield of appropriate phrasing. “I know we’ve only just met, but there’s something I need to ask of you.”

Dan nods slowly, aware that Louise is watching him, though she’s trying very hard to pretend she’s focused solely on the bread. “Okay,” he says warily.

“I understand it’s a bit early to ask you to commit, but… do you think you’d be interested in permanently accepting this job?”

“Well… yes,” Dan says. Briefly, he thinks of his final discussion with his father, the gist of which had been ‘if you do something as stupid and reckless as pissing off to waste your time up the top of a snowy hill, I’ll disown you’. Even that lovely parting sentiment hadn’t managed to dissuade Dan from coming here though, so he supposes he must really be serious about his decision to do this. “I’m not going to back out, if that’s what you mean.”

Mona casts a brief, relieved look in Louise’s direction, which is happily returned. “That’s good. That’s very good to hear, Dan. Okay then,” she says, placing her cup of coffee down carefully in order to clasp her hands together at her waist. “What I need to ask you, in that case, is for your total discretion. I need your word, unwaveringly, to keep quiet about a certain matter.”

“Is this about Mr Novocaine?”

Louise’s bark of laughter is shrill and high. “At last! I have someone on my level of comedic talent to witticise with. It’s been an arduous few years attempting to engage Mo in banter. No offense.”

Rolling her eyes a bit, Mona corrects Dan, “Mr Novokoric. And yes, it’s about him. I’m assuming, from your reaction earlier this morning, that you don’t recognise him?”

“Er… no.”

Mona clears her throat, nodding. “And have you ever heard of Sir Nikolai Novokoric of Swtizerland?”

Some distant bell rings in the back of Dan’s mind. He tries to dredge up the memory that accompanies it, wrinkling his nose. “Is he that party-Prince that’s always in all the papers? The heir of some nobleman’s fortune or something?”

“He’s not a Prince, but he is connected to the Swiss monarchy,” Mona replies carefully. “And yes, his exploits are often splashed across international entertainment news.”

Not being the sort of person to indulge in celebrity gossip, Dan has only a vague sense of Sir Nikolai, but his general impression of the man is that he’s a spoiled, disgustingly rich little brat, squandering his inherited fortune on hundred-thousand euro bottles of champagne to fuel his obscene sex parties in exotic locations.

“I don’t really follow him,” Dan says with a shrug. He’s already bored just thinking about the vapid excuse for a man. He sees no reason why he should be under discussion, aside from the fact he’s apparently Swiss, and they’re currently atop a Swiss mountain. “Why’d you bring him up?”

“You may or may not be aware that Sir Nikolai’s most recent scandal was to come out as publicly bisexual,” Mona says, checking her watch and speeding up the tempo of her explanation. “And when the scandal of this statement proved to be virtually non-existent-”

“Switzerland’s rather blasé about that sort of thing,” Louise butts in, cheerily. “Sexualities and whatnot. People just sort of get on with it, round here. Doesn’t matter whose pants you’ve got your hand down.”

“-he then decided,” Mona continues, aiming a sharp look at Louise, “to hype up the scandal by eloping with a male student he met during a brief stint at a British university.”

Mona’s expression is carefully neutral, but from her rigid stance and the way her lips purse around the words, it’s more than clear what she thinks of this impulsive, erratic behaviour.

“Elope?” Dan asks, mildly intrigued. He’d been under the impression that this rich playboy was a renowned perpetual-bachelor. “So he’s married now?”

“Honestly, Dan,” Louise says with a tinkling laugh. “Don’t know how you could’ve missed it! When the media found out he’d run off and wedded some nobody from Manchester they had a field day! Even I heard about it, all the way up here, where the newspapers are only delivered once a week, and that’s if Kaspar even remembers to bring them.”

“Like I said,” Dan says uncomfortably. “I don’t really follow that stuff.”

“Well, now might be the time to catch yourself up to speed,” Mona says, one eyebrow raised as she surveys him, unimpressed. “As the gentleman you just attempted to accost in our lobby is Sir Nikolai’s recent groom, and therefore a distant member of the Royal family.”

Dan’s face pales, and he places the empty bowl in his hands down, feeling suddenly nauseous. “He… that guy?”

Louise laughs, radiant and bright, bouncing off the chrome surfaces of the kitchen. Dan tries to wrap his head around the new information, feeling de-stabled. He supposes that he understands the physical appeal of the man he met just now, but surely even Sir Nikolai would be put off by the resting bitch-face, or the general rudeness. Dan expects that young men like Sir Nikolai are used to having people fawn over them; he can’t imagine Mr NovaScotia-or-whatever doing anything akin to fawning.

When Dan focuses back on Mona, she’s fighting an amused smile. “Mr Novokoric is actually quite sweet, I’ve found. But he does have a rather… spiky set of barriers up, until you get to know him.”

Dan snorts quietly, thinking privately that he would have phrased it a little differently. Possibly he would have adopted Louise’s imaginative term ‘dick-brain’. In no circumstance can Dan ever imagine being as rude to customer service staff as that man had been to him earlier. Having worked in retail and hospitality all his life, Dan is painfully aware of how shit it is to deal with irate customers; he feels that working those jobs at least once should be a rite of passage for anyone to go through, so that they can learn how to be decent human beings. He’d bet that Mr Nobby-ski-head has never set foot on the other side of the till. Like his husband, he’s probably an elitist twat, privately educated and living off his parents’ money.

“If you say so,” Dan mutters. “You said he was a permanent guest?”

Mona nods, glancing at her watch; they’ve been discussing this for too long for her liking, evidently. “More or less, yes. Our only suite is permanently rented out under Sir Nikolai’s name, but his husband is the one who lives there most of the time.”

“Doesn’t he have a mansion somewhere to lounge around in?”

“I don’t know the ins and outs of it, Dan,” Mona says, impatiently. “It’s not exactly my place to pry into such matters. All I know is that he’s married to a Royal, and for whatever reason, he spends most of his days alone here, either in the suite on the top floor, or out on the slopes somewhere.”

He nods, feeling strangely guilty for his probing question. He has no idea why he’s interested at all, really. What’s interesting about a severe, cold dick-brain with a superiority complex and no manners? Sure, he’s… striking to behold, but that doesn’t make him worthy of dwelling upon.

He’s about to say something dismissive to this effect, but then he notices that Mona is already heading for the door. He grabs his bowl, about to speedily wash it up in the sink, but Louise snatches it from him and makes a shooing motion, then winks at him. He grins, grateful, and chucks the remains of his coffee down his throat before following Mona out of the kitchen.

(Chapter Three!)

#phan #phanfic #too high #enemies to lovers

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schtroumpf-a-lunettes · 5 years

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Smurf Village Upturned, Ch. 11: Resolve

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10

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Papa Smurf was worried about Vanity. He’d been vaguely aware that something was amiss, but had just been so busy in the lab this past week. After all, it was hard to tell how much “being preoccupied with his mirror” was a cause for immediate concern when it came to a smurf like Vanity. These were all things that Brainy Smurf knew by looking at Papa Smurf. What he didn’t see was how smurfs had also been coming and telling Papa Smurf that there was something different about Brainy. This much, Papa Smurf suspected himself. He had tried to keep an eye on Brainy, but the other smurfs had also been keeping him so busy these past few days. Between that and the lab, there was little time to investigate too extensively. Papa Smurf, I commend you for finally taking action, Vanity’s been attached to that mirror for far too long… is what Brainy wanted to say, to start and to try to steer the conversation, distract from the main point at hand. But that was so much more effortful than his trusty autopilot responses, wasn’t it? He was so worn out, from earlier, the time spent just being… himself. “How are you, Brainy?” Papa Smurf asked slowly. “I’m… fine.” “Are you sure?” “…No.” he didn’t know… how much longer he could keep this up. He was slipping�� Papa Smurf nodded supportively. “I’m here to help. Would you like to tell me about it? Then perhaps I can help you.” Yes. Tell Papa Smurf… he wanted to. He’d… smurfed off more than he could chew, and he needed some help. Vanity was right. But he didn’t seem able to talk about any of it. What kinds of other blockages had Roesia instilled in him…? “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work. Every potion is still always resulting in that same black, slimy substance, isn’t it? A neutraliser of sorts. It hides, and it dims, magic. But it’s not what you wanted because it does so in a blanketed fashion, it does not target specific parts of specific spells. It’s much easier to make and if you don’t balance everything just right, that’s going to be the result… You should probably start disposing of it properly.” “You’ll stay in the sick bay, tonight, and we’ll talk more tomorrow. Until you can tell me what’s going on, or I can find out…” Papa Smurf stood up, began to carefully lead Brainy there. *** Of all the people she had seen into the essences of in her life, everyone had their own story. What Roesia learned quite early in her life was that she could not afford to get too caught up in those stories, as they were immaterial to her own life. She had her own story and life to attend to, just as they. The most important question always was, and always had been, did anything exist in the essences of others that could help her? She would poke and search sometimes as she listened and gave emotional aid, just to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary, always searching for something more, something big. *** “In the sick bay! Gee, I knew he was actin’ a little strange lately, but…” Papa nodded gravely. “Be careful Clumsy, if you do insist on staying with him. I hope there’s nothing seriously wrong… I suspect that perhaps Brainy and Vanity’s behaviour is connected, somehow.” Papa Smurf continued on, frowning, “It just doesn’t make sense for Brainy to know some of the things he’s talking about…” There was someone else he’d encountered recently, who had also seemed to know more than they logically should… Perhaps it was high time to start up that investigation into Roesia. Outside, it was turning dark. Tomorrow… tomorrow, he would get to the bottom of this. *** “I can fix this.” Brainy paced about the room. Dabbler had long retired to bed – he couldn’t keep an eye on Brainy at every minute. Clumsy, however, was there and listening. He’d be there even if there hadn’t been annoying, sensationalist talk sweeping the village. “Sounds like Brainy’s finally lost his mind”… He wasn’t taking his glasses off anymore, the way he had been around Clumsy the past few days. It didn’t seem to occur to him to remove them, even when he’d lied down and slipped into a shallow sleep a little while earlier. But he was awake now. Clumsy fought to stay awake too, to be there with him. “Or – I must try,” Brainy added on to his declaration. Clumsy yawned. “How – how can ya fix it, Brainy? So ya do know what’s wrong…?” “Yes, yes…” he walked quickly to the door. “Whoa, whoa,” Clumsy took his arm in his hands, held him back. “You’re s’posed to stay here. Papa Smurf’s orders.” “No, I-“ “Now where can ya possibly be smurfin’ to, at this time’a night? You gotta stay here, yep, yep!” “There’s no time to waste… I don’t have much choice.” And then the door opened right up, neither of them having so much as touched it. Vanity stood in the doorway, glowing mirror in hand. “What are ya doin’ here? You should really go back to bed,” Clumsy told him crossly, “don’t ya know what time it is?” “You don’t know what time it is,” Vanity said pointedly. “And just what are you doing with that confiscated mirror, Vanity Smurf? Ooh, wait until Papa Smurf hears about this…!” There he was, the normal Brainy, reappearing in bursts. “Didn’t I tell you I’d go, right after you did? So let’s go, shall we?” Vanity swiftly pulled Brainy outside. “Uh, go where?” they were already walking away from Clumsy. He took a few steps after them, tripped, sent them all sprawling. “Ya can’t… Papa Smurf said…!” Vanity picked up the mirror, stood up, dusted himself off. “We have to. Don’t worry. It’ll solve everything. We can all wake up tomorrow and just go back to normal.” Clumsy wasn’t sure what to think, but he wasn’t very convinced. “Why is your mirror glowin’, huh? Huh?” Vanity kept his eyes on Clumsy. “Oh. You can see that right now, too? Interesting. Well it’ll make a smurfy light amidst the darkness of the forest, don’t you think? That is, if we three weren’t already walking lanterns…” “I glow, too?” Brainy was thrilled. It was the first bit of information Vanity had ever given him about what he saw – about himself. “You can’t just wander off into the forest,” Clumsy insisted, “at least wait until tomorrow…” “Oh, we’re grown smurfs… And we can’t afford to wait. We simply must throw off the shackles of this accursed insight as soon as we can.” Clumsy didn’t know what Vanity was on about, but he sounded determined. The sky was gradually starting to lighten now. “…And it’s already tomorrow,” Vanity pointed out, tugging Brainy along after him. Clumsy followed, wringing his hands. “You shouldn’t follow us, Clumsy… You should get some rest,” Brainy advised, his tone sincere. Clumsy shook his head adamantly, “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight. I’ll follow ya around anywhere… ‘cause I need to make sure you’re okay. Especially now. I’m worried about ya. If ya won’t listen to reason…” Vanity smiled to himself. “Well if you’re coming along, hold on to this, will you?” he tossed Clumsy his mirror. “That thing’s been more than enough trouble for me this week.” “Aren’t ya tired, Vanity? Shouldn’t ya sleep?” Clumsy urged. They were rapidly nearing the forest now. “Yes,” Vanity admitted, “but once I’m finally rid of that mirror’s magic, I can catch up on as much sleep as I want. Just you wait – you’ll be mistaking me for Lazy!” *** Clumsy could have called out to wake up the other smurfs, or rushed away to grab Papa, to do anything to stop these two smurfs from wandering off into the forest like this. But to do so, in and of itself, would have been to risk losing them – to have them slip away from him, and he needed to ensure their safety. He could have gone to grab Papa, but then they would have left without him, and how would he find them again? He could have called to try to wake other smurfs up, but perhaps then Vanity and Brainy would have run off without him. Clumsy could hardly keep his eyes open; he didn’t trust his ability to keep up with them, especially given his tendency towards tripping over. He realised he didn’t even know where they were going. He tripped over anyway. Vanity and Brainy both helped him up. “Where are you goin’?” Clumsy asked them, nervous. “To Roesia. She did this to us, she can un-do this to us,” Vanity explained. “Oh, no! Ya didn’t disobey Papa Smurf’s orders, did ya? Y-Ya disobeyin’ ‘em right now! Ya gotta turn back… tell Papa Smurf, he’ll be able t’ help!” Vanity kept on walking, Brainy not far behind. “We can’t wait, Clumsy. We can’t afford to wait.” “But – but why’d she be in the forest at this time, huh? She’d have t’ be fast asleep!” “Oh.” Vanity thought for a moment. “Then we’ll just have to wait for her. The sooner the better, Clumsy, the sooner the better.” But they arrived shortly thereafter, and to Clumsy’s alarm, she was there, and she was awake, and seemed to be working on… something. No, that wasn’t right… This wasn’t right. He couldn’t even take anything in. He needed sleep. “You’re early,” Roesia remarked. Clumsy’s eyes were closing. He blinked himself awake. Vanity cut straight to the point. “Take away the insight.” “Okay…” he heard her say. Clumsy walked absentmindedly. There was a particular spot on the ground that seemed good – there was just something about it. Like it was a spot just for him, and there he sat down. He didn’t want to move. “…Although I’m a bit busy right now. I think you can afford to wait a little bit longer. Why don’t you two take a seat? Clumsy seems to have the right idea.” “Why… why did you give us the insight?” Brainy breathed. He’d made his way over to a spot not far from Clumsy. “Don’t worry,” Roesia said reassuringly, “It won’t be much longer. It’ll all be over soon.”

#smurfs #Clumsy Smurf #Vanity Smurf #Brainy Smurf #The Smurfs

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myotishia · 5 years

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In the air part one

Fandom: Torchwood. Trigger warnings: None I don't think but tell me if I've missed anything. Characters: Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Elise Carter (oc) Rating: Teen and up

Blurb: A relaxed wedding dress fitting turns into a new case for the team as the streets are suddenly abandoned.

“How does your leg feel?” Asked Owen as he pulled on his gloves.

Elise shrugged and pulled up the side of her skirt to show her bandaged thigh. “Sore as hell, but no more than I’d expect. How long until I can put weight on it properly?”

“You were lucky, it didn’t hit the bone or any major blood vessels so you can maybe put your full weight on it again in a week or so. I was more worried about the chance of infection.”

“I tried to keep it away from the mud.”

“You did pretty well, but gunshot wounds are a bitch. Even clean shots that are treated immediately can get infected and that’s how you end up in surgery.” He removed the bandage and dressing as gently as he could, happy that the wound looked clean.

“How is it?”

“Your leg’s going to drop off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Asshat.”

“It’ll be fine, just keep it clean and dry. I’ll redress it for you this time.”

“Thanks. How are you?”

“Me? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“A guy almost killed you.”

“And you shot him in the hip. Keep still.” He continued treating her thigh, knowing that it must be hurting. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me.”

“That’s scary in itself.”

“Tosh said your watch was broken.”

“I’ll fix it after we’re done here.” She took it from her wrist, turning it over in her hands. “The casing and screen look fine. The fall probably just knocked a wire out of place.”

“I didn’t think you’d still need it.”

A short silence filled the room, neither party wanting to speak about her missing friend.

“I’m still going to have the dreams or whatever they are. My weirdness isn’t completely gone.”

“You sound sure of that.”

“I am. Time travel comes at a price. I’m ok with that.”

He looked up from his work. “You think you can still time jump?”

“Only twenty four hours either way, at most, but it’s something. I don’t know the distance I can go yet.”

“You shouldn’t use it. You don’t have someone who knows how to control it anymore.” Owen had never looked more serious in his life. “Just let it go and be human for a while.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“Of course I am!” He snapped, throwing his gloves into the bin.

Elise sat up and reached out for his arm. “Owen… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

“Just leave it... You’re going to be on desk duty for a while. You’ve got to write up your report about the Pharm anyway.”

“Owen… When I’m all healed up would you mind training me to be a proper field agent?”

“Me? You realise I’m the Hub fuck up. You might want to go to Jack for that.” He smirked.

“You’re reckless, stubborn and trigger happy... but that’s what makes you good at what you do. I know I run into things and just say fuck it to the risks but I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t.”

“We’ll talk about it once you’re healed, for now you’ve got paperwork to do. And tell Tosh her girlfriend’s crazy.”

“Will do.” She smiled.

Ianto placed Elise’s morning coffee on her desk. “I hope you’re going to be better than Owen was on desk duty.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever seen the shining?”

“Really? That bad?”

“Luckily an axe won’t put a dent on most of the doors here. It only ended when he cut the cast off his leg and told us that if he didn’t go out soon he’d start posing bodies around the Hub out of boredom. I believed him.”

She laughed into her mug. “I promise I won’t go posing bodies around the place.”

“If you want to get some fresh air tomorrow I’ve got a wedding dress fitting to get to. You can come along if you like. You’ll probably do a lot of sitting around but it’s better than being stuck here.” Smiled Gwen, finally able to think about her wedding in the quiet moment.

“Thanks. That sounds fun. I’ve never even seen a wedding dress in real life before.”

Both Ianto and Gwen looked a little shocked.

“What? I’ve never been to a wedding and we didn’t have a bridal wear shop anywhere near where I lived.”

Gwens look softened, returning to her previous excitement. “You are going to have so much fun. I’ve got some cake samples to pick up too.”

“What makes wedding cake different than other cake? I know it’s fancier but what makes it specifically a wedding cake?”

“Normal cake goes off after a week. Wedding cake seems to last forever and can be used to build bomb shelters.” Ianto said drily before returning to his duties with a smile.

“Oh, don’t listen to him. It’s mostly just because it’s fancy but I really want it to actually be edible.”

“How is Rhys?”

“He’s fine. Taking everything in his stride as per usual. He’s not as paranoid now he knows what I actually do.”

“That’s fair.”

“Though I think he’s still a bit iffy with Jack.”

“Also fair. I don’t think he knows the difference between casual conversation and flirting.”

“Sooo, how’s things between you and Tosh?”

“Good. Really good.”

“She does seem so much happier than before. It’s nice.”

After a very entertaining dress fitting that reminded Gwen that she needed to eat even if she was stressed they headed out. Elise being a little slow as she moved with one crutch. On the street it seemed eerily silent. As it was lunch time it should have been bustling but only the birds made a noise. Workers from the surrounding shops looked out of their windows, just as confused. Gwens police instincts kicked in when she saw a car with its doors left open, shopping bags left abandoned in the road.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Said Gwen before rushing across the road to one of the opposing shops to talk to one of the staff. They seemed in shock.

“What happened out there?” She asked, trying to seem like just any other person walking onto the scene.

The worker, a young man who wore a lanyard around his neck emblazoned with the stores name, just shook his head. “I… I don’t know. Everyone just started walking down the street. All at once… They just turned and walked off like zombies.”

“Did you hear anything strange? See anything?”

“No. I was putting the new posters up in the window and it was like someone flicked a switch… Is it one of those flash mob things do you think?”

“No idea… Thanks.” She returned to Elise who was leaning on the bridal stores wall.

“He see anything?”

“Apparently everyone just turned and walked off down the street.”

“Should we follow?”

“Get in the car. We can call it in on the way.”

Elise took her phone from her pocket and got into the car, dialling into the comms line for the Hub.

“Having fun ladies?” Jacks voice rose from the device.

“Having a blast, just a quick question, is the rift doing it’s happy dance?” Elise asked.

“We’ve had a few spikes, why?”

“Well, everyone on the street got pied pipered a few minutes ago.”

“Any idea where they’re heading?”

“We’re following now.”

“Don’t get too close. We’re on our way.” He hung up the call.

Ahead of the car a large crowd walked in unison, seemingly in a trance. Gwen repeatedly pressed the horn but they didn’t even flinch. She parked up to the side and took her comms earpiece from the glove compartment.

“Wait here. I’m going up ahead.” She said, not waiting for a response.

Elise opened her door and pulled herself out. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to look.” She rushed off ahead of the entranced people.

They all seemed to be converging on a car park outside a large garden centre. Due to it being closed that day there were no cars but as Gwen managed to push her way through the sea of people she saw where they were all going. A large sinkhole had formed, dropping into darkness. The people around her stood around the edge, unmoving. No matter what she did she couldn’t wake anyone.

As sudden as it had began, it ended. All at once people began looking around, confused before a panic broke out at being that close to the edge of the sinkhole. People scattered in all directions and Gwen had to admit she was a little thankful for being on the inside so she didn’t get trampled.

Jack looked over the edge of the now sixteen foot wide sinkhole, light hitting a perfectly flat obsidian surface below. The whole car park had been cordoned off with temporary plywood walls, usually used to keep people out of construction sites, much to the displeasure of the Garden centres manager.

“At least it’s stopped.” Jack turned away from the hole. “What do we know?”

“Fuck all.” Owen began.

Tosh interjected, “Noone remembers anything. One moment they were in one place and then they woke up here. Though whatever it was didn’t seem to affect anyone in a building when it started. There was a spike in rift energy but nothing big enough for this.”

“How far did it span?” The captain stepped away from the edge.

“A mile radius of the holes centre.”

“Sounds like we’re going to have to get down there.” He picked up a nearby rock and tossed it into the hole. It landed with a light tap and skittered across the obsidian surface as if it were ice.

Ianto and Elise had been sent to speak to the Garden centre manager and sat in the womans sparse office.

“This is all I need. This whole place has been falling apart since last Sunday.”

“Falling apart?” Asked Ianto, keeping detailed notes as the woman had spoken chaotically before and it was easier to keep up with what she was on about in bullet points.

“Yes! First every last fuse in this place blew. Even the ones in the plugs. Then my staff start calling in sick. They didn’t sound bloody sick. Then we had a new palette of apple tree saplings just shrivel and rot overnight for no reason. Same day we had a flock of pigeons slam themselves into the building in the middle of the bloody day. We had kids screaming and crying and noone wanted to clean that mess up. Then! As if it couldn’t get worse the water has to be turned off because some bloody thing’s in it. Do you know how much water a garden centre needs to keep running?!”

“Ma’am… Can we see the water please? And the apple trees if you still have them.”

“As long as you get that sinkhole filled in you can do what you like.”

“Well, if you could show my colleague here I can gather my things to get some samples.”

“Yes. Yes. Maybe you’ll get more than that useless plumber did.”

The manageress lead them down to the main warehouse and Ianto quickly walked back to the SUV to grab some gloves and sample jars. When he returned the manager was still complaining at Elise.

“It’s everywhere in the building and god the smell!”

“I’m sure we’ll find the source ma’am.” Elise droned, barely paying attention.

“Oh good, you’re back. Here.” The woman turned the tap and a black, oily looking liquid started pouring out. Ianto had just taken the sample when the smell hit them. It stank like rancid meat with a heavy tint of iron. The manageress ran off to throw up in one of the bins.

Elise turned off the tap. “Jesus. Did something die in their water tank?”

“They don’t have a water tank. This is from the mains.” He held the small plastic jar up to the light but even the relatively bright sunshine couldn’t permeate the liquid.

“I don’t now if it’s the water or the bigass hole out there but this place gives me the creeps.”

He had to admit the place, though otherwise completely mundane, did make him nervous. A creeping dread that rose up his spine and made him want to jump at every sound. He looked around for the dead saplings as the manageress was still hunched over a bin. In the corner of the warehouse, nearest the loading bay, sat a palate of potted saplings. Each was withered and mould had started to develop on the surface of the soil. Using a set of clippers and a hand trowel he took samples from one of the pots, the same smell that came from the tainted water oozed from the cuts on the plant. Ianto stood back as his stomach turned.

Elise made her way over to the exhausted looking manageress. “We’ve got what we need. We’ll contact you as soon as we know more. Why don’t you head home. It’s not safe to work around tainted water.”

The poor woman nodded.

Outside, Ianto took a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air. He still couldn’t shake the nervous feeling.

“You feel as out of sorts as I do?” Asked Elise, sitting in the back seat of the SUV with her arm over her eyes.

“Do you think it was the water?”

“We didn’t even touch it.”

Ianto paused before an idea came to mind. He leaned over to one of the computers, setting up a sound sensor to monitor all frequencies.

Elise pulled her arm away from her eyes. “What’s up?”

He looked over the levels on the screen. “Infrasound.”

“Huh?”

“It’s very low frequency sound, anything below 20Hz. Not audible by humans. It’s usually used for underground monitoring because it doesn’t disperse the way higher frequencies do. It can cause nausea, paranoia, nervousness and in the worst cases, hallucinations. A lot of ghost sightings come from it.”

“Is that why we feel like crap?”

“Looks that way. It doesn’t explain the water though.”

“Do you think that’s what made the birds dive into the building?”

“Maybe but I don’t think so. It can mess with their directional mapping but it doesn’t make whole flocks suicidal… I’m going to go and tell the others.”

“I’m gonna stay here and rest.” She put her arm back over her eyes. “So much for desk duty, eh?”

Owen stepped down onto the obsidian surface, double checking his safety line just in case it collapsed. Jack had already ventured down into the sinkhole but Owen had been fooled before by Jacks oddly catlike grace. The sinkhole was unusual in that the walls didn’t have any kind of overhang. It had fallen away and left what looked like carved walls of earth. Walking across the glasslike surface it became clear that whatever it might be was hollow.

“Can you see any sign of a hatch?” He asked, finding it hard to focus his vision on the light absorbing stone.

“Not a thing.” The captain crouched down, running his fingers over the surface, hoping to feel more than he could see. He suddenly pulled back, a sharp pain shooting through his fingertips. A thin line of blood dripped from each finger and down onto the floor where it was absorbed. A loud rumbling filled the area and Jack turned to run back to the ladder.

“Out now!” He ordered.

Owen did not need telling twice, clambering up like a frightened ape. As soon as his feet were on secure earth he turned to make sure Jack was right behind him. The previously flat surface was becoming an upside down pyramid made of many steps. Starting at the centre each layer descended, threatening to pull Jack down to what he guessed would be a very nasty, if temporary, death. He reached out and grabbed the ladder that was thankfully secured from above and wrenched himself up. His cut fingers sliding but thankfully not dropping him. Ianto and Owen took a wrist each and pulled him up and out of the sinkhole.

“The fuck was that?!” Asked Owen, looking back at where he’d been standing.

Jack looked down at his hand, at the paper fine cuts that decorated his fingertips.

Owen took a swift trip back to the hub with Elise, wanting to test the samples that Ianto had gathered. He could only do a certain amount in the field and the this had stopped being an oddity and started being a very dangerous case.

The ‘water’ sample showed traces of blood, grey matter and microscopic bone fragments, all slowly rotting. The blood, though decomposing and tainted did present as a mix of human and animal. The apple tree sapling cuttings were rotten on the outside but the very centre showed new growth, soaking up the tainted water from its soil. Even the mould sitting on the surface of the soil showed signs of death and regrowth.

“The thing is drinking people?” Asked Elise from a safe distance.

“It looks more like the liquid’s being pumped into the plant to change it.”

“That still sounds like a vampire plant.”

Owen suddenly stepped back from his work, switching on his comms awkwardly with his shoulder. “You all need to get away from there. It needs to be quarantined. Everything that’s been tainted already needs to be quarantined too. That includes you Harkness!” He turned to Elise. “Did you touch anything?”

“No. Ianto took the samples and he was wearing gloves. But the garden centre staff did.”

“Shit! Get a list of their staff. They need to be isolated. Call it a possible biological weapon. We’ve got a building we can use as a hospital. I need to know how many people have already been infected.”

When Torchwood is in a full outbreak alert they work shockingly quickly. They’d already rounded up many of the staff and they did not look healthy. Owen tested himself for infection before the others even got back and after a very fast decontamination shower he pulled on a hazmat suit and got to work on his team. Elise, Ianto, Tosh and Gwen were all clean and had to go through the same process. Jack was not so lucky. His fingertips were already showing signs of infection. Owen suspected it was working faster on him as it had infected his blood directly.

He was taken to the ‘hospital’ and given a room, not arguing as he knew Owen wouldn’t do all this without a very serious reason.

“Owen, what’s this going to do to me?” he asked, no longer able to move his hand.

“It kills its host and then brings them back with that meat sludge in the pipes. Maybe your body will be able to fight it off but…”

“It’s ok. I understand. I’m leaving this up to you.”

Owen replied with a nod and Jack resigned himself to staying where he was. The infection was spreading too fast for him to fight and he just hoped that when he came back it would be gone. He lay down and tried not to think about the burning sensation rising up his arm. At least Owen would have a test subject. Owen leant on the wall outside of the room, reflecting on what a disaster this had all become. He hated the idea but he might have to call in UNIT for help. No, not yet. They might try and blow up the obsidian structure and spread it even further. He needed to know what would happen to a mammal at the point of death and he hated the idea of using Jack.

Gwen watched the infected rat plod lethargically around its tank. She felt so sorry for the creature that was obviously in pain, its tail blackened and bone exposed. If it hadn’t been a pandemic level issue even Owen may have put it down by this point. The rodent stopped and fell onto its side.

“Owen... “

He’d asked her to call him at the moment the animal passed. Under the hazmat suit he looked haggard, trying to keep all of his patients from rioting out of fear. A screen next to the tank showed that the rats heart and brain function had stopped. It was then that it twitched.

Gwen jumped at the movement but even she knew that random electrical signals can do that to a body just after death. What didn’t usually happen was the body getting back onto its feet. The dead rat moved to the side of the tank, testing where it was before backing up and ramming the side. The tank was undamaged but the creature continued trying to ram into the side. Owen signaled for Gwen to move to the other side of the table with him. The rat changed its trajectory. It was actively trying to get to them.

“It’s a... “ Gwen began.

“Don’t say it… Make sure anyone that gets too far gone is restrained out there.”

Twenty hours had passed since the people out in the street had been drawn to the sinkhole and the virus was mostly contained but as Tosh looked up from her power nap her stomach dropped. The tv she’d left on for some white noise played a news report. It was happening again and this time people were carrying meat and livestock towards the obsidian pit. The entranced people crashed through the cordon as if it weren’t even there and lead the animals onto the steps. Each edge seem to slice through the creatures like a knife. Those caught under its spell were feeding it. She shot up to report what the news had been showing, rushing past Jacks room. She stopped for a moment and looked over at the captain. He was pale, hunched over and holding his head.

“Jack?”

He looked up with unfocused eyes, agony etched into his face. “Calling… It’s calling… Won’t stop…”

“The pit?” She dared take a step into the room.

“It wants food… powers it… Machine… Controls… us.”

“It’s a machine? What does it do? Jack?” Another step closer.

“Heart… It... a heart…”

Another step. She was pulled sharply back by Ianto as Jack lunged for her. He pulled her out of the room and locked Jack inside. Jack roared and slammed his fists against the door, unable to fight the infection any longer.

“I heard him too. Come on.” Ianto said, finally releasing his grip on his coworker.

They ran to report what they’d been told and Jacks condition, trying to think of some way to end all this.

Ianto and Gwen pulled on their body armor and respirators before heading towards the pit. Covered head to toe in kevlar they moved towards the centre, diamond bladed saw in hand. Sparks shot into the air as the saw cut into the stone. In retaliation the pit began to rise and flatten itself out again as if that would protect it from the blade. The chunk of rock finally fell through, landing with an earth shattering boom. No going back, they descended into the structure.

The walls were smooth and as black as the exposed part had been but the floor was white, like bone. Red veins pulsed around the edges of the floor. They followed the crimson vessels deeper, finding that the smooth walls gave way to what looked like cogs, grinding dryly. Any oil having long dried up. The further they walked the more machinery clanged and screeched, louder by the moment. Many of the vessels began to converge and wind together like muscles, pulsing. Even through the respirator Ianto felt like he could smell that rancid stench that had attacked his senses from the tap.

The bundles of vessels lead into a final, huge chamber. Its walls were slick and crimson, the vessels emptying down them like a fountain. Below the pools churned and bubbled. Finally in the centre, held up like a marionette was a figure. It stood over nine feet tall and its leathery skin clung tightly to its horribly emaciated form. It looked as if it had been dead for centuries until it opened its eyes, blind and milky. It began to move with a horrible creaking and a familiar grinding from its ribcage, the pools of blood being drawn towards it. The metal tubes that snaked into its head rattled and groaned.

Back at the hospital all had gone silent but only for a moment. Every one of the infected began shrieking and trying to fight their restraints, all facing in the direction of the pit. It was so loud that Owen feared some may destroy their own vocal chords. He could just hear the awful noise of joints dislocating, under the screams, as the patients pulled their restraints with no concern for their own wellbeing.

Gwen and Ianto aimed at the huge creatures head. It looked around as if something or someone should have been running to its aid but it found itself abandoned. Both agents fired at once, each bullet leaving a perfect hole through its head that poured out more of the rotten viscera. It thrashed, only succeeding in pulling the wires that held it up from its skin, before finally falling limp. Still the cogs moved. Ianto pointed up to the creatures chest that still clanked and werred. Gwen stepped forward and gritted her teeth before grabbing onto the skin of the hanging figures abdomen, pulling as hard as she could. The membrane tore away to reveal more gears, mummified flesh still stuck to the metal. In the very centre an obsidian core sat, turning slowly.

She moved out of the way as a very angry Ianto revved up the saw, lifting it up and pushing it as hard as he could into the core. It sparked in a shower of red and white before everything fell still.

The hospital was suddenly silent, all movement stopped and Owen hoped beyond hope that whatever had happened hadn’t killed every one of the people under his care. He was almost relieved when he heard the garden centre manageress gasping and sobbing as she looked at her dislocated wrist.

After hours spent sending people either home or to local hospitals Owen unlocked Jacks room. He looked his usual self, seemingly napping quite happily. He opened one clear blue eye and smiled.

“I think I broke the door.” He pointed to a fist sized hole in the door.

“You’re feeling better then.”

“I don’t remember anything after climbing into that sinkhole. Usually when that happens there’s alcohol involved and I don’t wake up alone.”

Gwen and Ianto got back to the hub and immediately headed to shower. Their clothing, hair and even shoes stank of rot. They both felt like there wasn’t enough soap in the world to wash it away but it was worth a try. They were separated by a wall but sound travelled well in the tiled room.

“I could sleep for days after this.” Gwen said as she ran shampoo through her hair for the third time.

“That’s the plan. My shoulders are killing me.”

“Well you did hold that saw over your head.”

“I was annoyed.”

“Remind me to never annoy you.”

The Hub was quiet for the next three days while everyone recovered from their exhaustion. The pit was filled with concrete and paved over and life went on as if nothing had happened. That was always their best case scenario. Forgotten. A myth.

Inside the Hub was different. No one was ever really forgotten, especially when their leaving happened to coincide with an injury. Elise sighed to herself, feeling the bandage around her thigh through her trousers. The quiet in her mind had become more noticeable as the days passed and it left a dark fog in its wake. She missed their quiet conversations and always having someone there. She couldn’t let herself dwell on the matter, she had to let it go.

She stood and stretched, able to stand and limp around without her crutch, at least for a little while.

“Have you read it yet?” Asked Jack, leaning on her desk.

“Read what?”

“The letter that was left for you.”

She shook her head and sat back down in her chair. “I can’t even look at it right now. I copied it onto my own computer, my phone, a USB stick so I could whenever but… Not yet. I will, but not yet.”

“You should. It might help you.” Jack looked behind her as Owen placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Mind if I borrow this?” He asked as she jumped in surprise.

“As long as you bring her back in one piece.”

Jack took his leave.

Elise turned to look at Owen. “What do you need?”

“You looked uncomfortable and I’m bored.”

She laughed softly.

“Come on, I don’t want your aim getting rusty if I’m going to be the one blamed for training you. You should be fine standing for a bit.”

“Sounds good.” She stood and slowly limped after him.

“And when you’re healed up we need to work on your running speed.”

“I’m not that slow.”

“Tosh can run faster than you in high heels and a skirt. Yea, you are.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re all related to sodding racehorses.”

“Up your game Carter.”

“Don’t use my words.” She slapped his arm playfully.

#Torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #gwen cooper #owen harper #toshiko sato

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tumblunni · 6 years

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Me in the hospital: i cannot sleep for 24 hours, the slightest noise is blaring, i am perpetually anxiety adrenaline

As soon as i get home: has the best sleep of my life

I usually take an hour to get to sleep each night but i totally just curled up like a snail and dropped into dreamland instantly. And i woke up to a nice warm house cos the heating turned on while i was asleep, and now all the anesthetic is completely worn off so i feel energized and great! And my throat pain has eased up so thankfully i wont have to be liquids only for as long as i thought. I was all hyperactive and cooked a great fancy omelette and it tastes like heaven itself! Its so weird how stuff tastes slightly diffetent when its the first time youve been able to chew with the right side of your mouth in five years. I guess the tastebuds on the sides of your tongue are slightly different? When i eat everything now im gonna be rolling it all over my mouth like WOW ITS ALL SO NEW AGAIN! Will probably look nuts in the middle of mcdonalds with my cheeks puffed like a squirrel XD

Oh and this is also a great excuse to drink loads of chocolate milkshakes from my milkshake viking mug! I feel so energized with calcium and yums!! EVERYTHING TASTES SO NEWWWWWWW

Oh man i do feel a bit sleepy again now after just being up for a few hours tho. I have these good jaw pain specific medicines i have to take for the next two weeks til my followup appointment to check if theres any infection left. But man i feel SO ALIVE AGAIN im pretty sure all the rot is gone! It feels so wild having space in my mouth and not constant clenchy tightness. It actually hurts less recovering from the surgery than it did before, lol! I can feel all my teeth moving apart again and loosening up into normality and the gums healing up all their injuries and oh god i just love how they cleaned out all the broken parts of my teeth and capped them with these great replacements that look so real you'd never be able to tell! My smile looks not ugly!! My smile looks not ugly!! Aaaaa! I just expected regaining the right side of my mouth, i didbt expect to e like "holy shit it must have hurt even more than i realized cos this feels so amazing now". Like i guess i got used to putting up with it and forgot how it felt to not have painmouth? Underestimated how good a teeth can be! And man i never asked for reconstructive cosmetic stuff too but they did these caps and aaa my teeth never looked his good even when they were new!! My front teeth were always crooked even before they did the weird balogna slam together and shattered into a pile of crap. And now they look like perfect supermodel teeth!! The only side effect is that its a lil hard to get used to the lack of gaps between them now after so long dealing with the shattered mess. My tongue keeps being like "oh no did something get stuck in the gaps again oh wait there arent any" and then i subconsciously try to clean them after taking every bite and just bite my tongue instead. Man i never noticed i picked up a bunch of weird mannerismd cos of tje bad teeth! I was constantly paranoidly checking my mouth 24/7 in case the slightest thing made it even worse, and eating super gently so that nothing accidentally touched the Wrong Tooth and set off a jolt of pain. And i actually needed to get a filling put in on the leftmost back tooth that was the ONLY TOOTH I COULD USE TO EAT WITHOUT PAIN for all this time! Overuse of it meant that it got ground down a little and probably would have become painful too if i'd left it any longer. Then i really would have been all soups all the time and that sucks!! Soups are good but nothing but then gives u stomach issues. The bad poops!!

Man sorry im rambling so much im just so hyper and happy and also still kinda dopily sleepy! Im not still delirious or anything i just feel the happy kind of sleepy where the anesthetic is all gone and its not "oh god i cant stay awake" and more natural sleepyness of a long day being over and everything being okay. I had such a good long nap and i feel well rested after getting so little sleep beforehand due to all the dumb anxiety. And i still feel dozey but happy doze~

Anyway its awesometo be able to really chug and crunch a foods! With the other side of my mouth i forgot about! And taste milkshake to its fullest extent!! Oh and whats weird is that the reconstructive surgery capping on my front teeth means that theyre kinda one tooth now? The caps are all linked in a single piece to fill the gaps fully without even the natural ones you'd have on healthy teeth. So its like a solid tooth guard just sculpted to look like three teeth. Itll be tricky to train myself out of thts subconcious rubbing the gaps with my tongue when theyre not even there. But i expect once i get over the unfamiliarity this triple cap will be really useful! Theyre totes reinforced so that even if i do get tight mouth problems again and the front teeth take the brunt of the pressure, now theres no gaps to smash into each other and become a painful mess. Its like scaffolding reinforcing my whole mouth by fixing the loadbearing beam, or something.

Oh also these pain meds make u a little bit more sleepy than normal paracetamol so i'll probably doze off again soon. But hopefully i will have slept off most of the "healing debt exhaustion" tomorrow and will be able to go walk down the shops and buy some icecream and other soft food. I mostly stocked up on purely liquid food cos i tjought my mouth function would be more limited. But honestly the teeth are working so much better than before, they were already so swollen and painful that i couldnt crunch stuff! Now the mild discomfort of mid-healing from surgery feels like barely anything and i bet i could bite thru a goddamn rock right now! I just cant really swallow crunchy stuff or stuff thats too salty or citrusy. I didnt even know about the stabbity throat pipe so i didnt expect it to be the most painful part that takes the longest to heal. It feels so weird cos i keep coughing like my brain thinks theres phelgm stuck in my throat when its actually a skin flap/blister from the insertion. So obviously that aint going anywhere and i have to try and force myself not to cough or swallow or else i set off this cjain of "must get thing out of throat must puke" reflex. And the pain feels like a sore throat but it isnt?? Its not really inflamed ot anything its just an actual friction burn on the opening of my airway. Which is not a common occurance so the brain is justvlike "what the fuck is happening, must send all contradicting signals at once!" So sore throat medicine wont work cos that goes down your throat passage to your stomach when really this lil skin tag blister thing is in the lung throat opening thing. And sucking on throat sweets made it worse cos all the muscles were really tense around the area where the tube was inserted, hence why it was hard to swallow food even tho it was my windpipe that hurt. And sucking on something is kinda like perpetually swallowing nothing, when you think about it? Im glad that the muscle tenseness is mostly gone now and the painkillers are helping with the ouch, and my brainis getting usedto not coughing and making it worse. But still should eat soft easily swallowable stuff for a lil while and it'll be fun to go aroundthe shops with my last pocketful of change and find neat ingredients to stick in omelettes. Im so excited to taste all my favourite things in new HD functional mouth power!!! And i can smile at the shopkeeper!!!

And oh man i really do think that my sleeping problems with stiff neck and that kind of 'bloodrush to the head' migraine were indeed part of the bad wisdom teeth bleeding internally under the gum. I thought it had to be that cos nothing else in my life changed around that time aside from getting a better and healthier bed which should have been beneficial to my neck. And even going back to sleepong on the floor like before didnt make a difference so it definately wasnt the bed! And it kept getting worse while nothing was changing, and i kept trying different things like changing my pillows and headphones and cutting caffeine out of my diet and eating more salt and eating less salt and fuckin ANYTHING ELSE cos i knew if it really was the dumb tooth being infected then there was nothong i could do about it til my surgery day arrived. Itd be such a relief to know for sure that it was indeed the tooth and now that nonsense is gonna be gone forever! But also thats really worrying to know that it was getting so bad it could have spread an infection to my jawbone and the top of my spine if itd been left much longer. I kept sneezing up blood lumps like the size of a fifty pence piece! Had never had nosebleeds for a decade and now suddenly all the time! God it feels so good to be able to lay my head down and not feel all woozy and tense im the forehead or neck. I really hope this good neck untenseness continues and the awful aches really were just the tooth. But everyone in the hospital was so nice that i think even if i do need a second surgery to check for jaw infection then id be able to be less nervoud than i was this time

Man do u ever get that thing where youre so peaceful and contented that like you can breathe easier? Like subconciously taking bigger breaths and the middle of your chest feels slightly puffed out and warm. I guess thats what the "heart leaping in yout chest" idiom is meant to refer to, lol! Or maybe i can just literally breathe easier cos the tooth pain might have been passing into my nasal cavity too, lol. My entire head feels so less tense!! Its like all my bones were rebelling against me and now they're at peace again!! Man i feel so giddy happy like i chugged a giant energy drink or something but its the opposite its a good sleeps drink XD

So im gonna go lie down again and have a relax and watch a movie or something and see if i pass out when the medicine kicks in, or if its not too bad and i can still continue my hyper mood. But my nap was so long that its too late to go to the shops now anyway so i'll just make more plain omelette and milkshake if i get hungry. I mean it doesnt taste plain when all my sense of taste is so amplified likethis! I dont mind if its all i can eat all week. PURE MILKSHAKEY DECADENCE

Aaaaa im just so happy!! I missed my chance to get the new. Kingdlm hearts but ive beenwaiting fkr this surgery for ages too and it feels like just as much of an exciting relief!

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jsteneil · 7 years

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contagiously bright (through our sleepy eyes)

wordcount: 1.9k

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Andrew, mind and body tired, is still up smoking by the time Neil and Kevin make it back from the court, still red-faced and drenched. It’s started raining twenty minutes ago, a violent and vertical outpouring like wet cloth being twisted from the sky. Andrew doesn’t mind—despite the open window, the rain falls straight enough that he hasn’t felt a drop. And it’ll rinse the Maserati, which suffered during the dry summer to the point that Andrew had considered bringing it to wash.

He makes a show of exhaling right when Kevin passes by the desk he’s perched on, just to see the disapproving scowl on the striker’s face. Kevin doesn’t like Andrew smoking, even less so in the dorm where the smell if not the smoke gets inside despite the open window. Andrew can understand—the smell of cold cigarette is unpleasant, and he knows Neil is already planning on having a balcony when he graduates.

Still, there is nothing Kevin can tell him about smoking inside when he’s himself wet as a rag, and riling him up is usually satisfying, even years after. Andrew tries to concentrate on that feeling, but it glides like water on a glass pane, until there’s only that familiar nothing left to feel anymore.

Andrew’s attention diverts from Kevin to Neil when he comes closer, discarding his soaked hoodie. Andrew watches him step up to the desk, bumping his hips into the edge slightly, until he is perfectly aligned with Andrew to steal the rapidly consuming cigarette from his fingers. Andrew lets him: there are more intoxicating things than the bitterness of smoke.

Neil holds the cigarette in the wasteful and slightly desperate way he always holds it: close to his face, gripped between his fingers like lifeline in the clutch of a drowning man. He doesn’t smoke out of desperation like he used to; the acrid smell isn’t only synonymous with survival anymore, but these are reflexes and feelings, learned and branded so deeply that only routine can unravel them.

Or so Bee tells him, anyway.

“You stink,” Andrew forces himself to tell Neil instead, fingers still outstretched toward him from holding and surrendering the cigarette.

“Court’s showers are broken,” Neil says. “Kevin’s furious because he turned on cold water before we realized.”

There is movement in the bathroom, as if Kevin is grumpily banging his tall frame in their small college amenities. A second later, water cuts on.

Andrew hums and turns his gaze to the darkness outside, leaning his head back against the window. From the light of the streetlamp standing twenty feet away, he can barely see the outline of the trees and the course of the rain. It doesn’t matter: he doesn’t need to see to know the twisting shape of the branches and the grey and red exterior of the buildings in the distance.

“Coach’s furious,” Neil says from Andrew’s right. “He’s been telling maintenance to come and check the boiler for days, now.” He pauses for a moment, turning the cigarette in his hands to shake the ash on the windowsill. “Hope they can have them fixed by Friday’s game. Brian’ll have a fit if we have to wait out post-game traffic to shower.”

He’s not deterred by Andrew’s lack of response and apparent disinterest. It’s both irritating and almost normal: Neil Josten, master at manipulating appearances, does not take people at face value. It’s either irony or natural: Andrew is too tired to think deeper about Neil’s own trauma.

When Andrew turns his head back toward Neil, he’s not surprised to find himself being stared at. Neil’s eyes are characteristically intense. However much he dislikes them, Andrew can’t bring himself to hate them along him: their pallor is extraordinary in itself, and the fire he sees in them is often answered likewise in Andrew’s gut.

Often. Not tonight.

Staring, Andrew wants to tell Neil, but he doesn’t have the energy to open his mouth, force his tongue to cooperate or even fully form the thought in his brain. With effort, he buries his hands in the front pocket of his oversized hoodie, and turns his face to the warm interior of the dorm. Neil dislodge the last clump of ash from the cigarette, then grounds out the butt and places it with the other three Andrew smoked this evening.

Neil, who emptied the ashtray this morning, does the Neil’s equivalent of a worried frown, and looks at Andrew under his lashes.

“Did you stay here all evening?” he asks.

Andrew looks back at him steadily. He doesn’t feel like presenting the entirety of his fucked up psyche to Neil, even though, maybe because, Neil is already intimately familiar with it. It’s hard, sometimes, to be so known at all times. With rare empathy, Andrew understands Neil’s struggle with the reality of his person better.

Neil reaches around him to tug the window closed, probably interpreting the lack of answer like the ‘yes’ he expects. Andrew suppresses a shiver when a burst of wind stronger than the others blows water against his side. A few drops glide down his neck, shockingly cool. Andrew, despite his best efforts, is still bothered by the cold.

He feels more than he sees the warmth of Neil’s hand hovering over his, and he turns his wrist slightly, so that his hand is facing upwards. Neil fits their palms together, running the coarse pad of his thumb on Andrew’s scarred knuckles. The feeling almost sends another shiver down his spine: Neil’s skin, warm and damp, is both slightly revolting and grounding. He waits for the revulsion to pass: it does, like he knew it would, because he wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise.

They stay still in silence for several minutes, soothingly, until the bathroom fan is turned on and the door opens. Andrew can’t see Kevin from his perch on the desk, but he listens to him stepping in the bedroom, tripping on his growing pile of books next to his bed, the tap tap of his nails tapping against his nightstand as he searches for the lamp switch. Neil’s thumb is never still against Andrew’s fingers, light and steady like experience taught him.

Maybe there is something to be said for routine, and Bee was right. Andrew doesn’t doubt it: he’s acquired a taste for the control that repetition gives him in juvie, and Bee is worth far more than her already extensive accreditations.

“You should go to bed,” Neil says when everything’s fallen quiet. “I still have to shower.”

Kevin is almost certainly already asleep by now, and unlikely to wake up when they come in, sound sleeper as he is. Andrew manages another hum, aware of the privacy Neil is offering him. He would have called it a luxury, a few years ago, but Kevin is surprisingly non intrusive and Neil knows how and when to make himself discreet.

Besides, his is a company that Andrew never minds, as surprising as the revelation can be.

Neil drops his hand only in the bathroom, undressing himself with his usual quick efficiency as Andrew steps to the sink, toothbrush in hand. He watches Neil in the mirror, noting the curve of his back and not much else: it’s been a few years, but Neil still won’t meet his reflexion on a good day.

“Don’t wet your hair,” Andrew says around a mouthful of toothpaste a few minutes later. The glass door of the shower doesn’t offer as much privacy as a curtain, but it certainly makes it easier to avoid a wet pillow.

Neil, a bottle of body wash that isn’t his in hand, stops and cuts off the water. “What?”

“It’s already almost dry. Wash it tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.”

Andrew finishes before Neil but comes back long enough to drop Neil’s sweats and the shirt he sleeps in on the closed toilet seat, before climbing up in bed. He rolls into the blanket, searching for warmth his body doesn’t really need, and closes his eyes. Andrew’s body is tired, his mind even more so, and lying there, with Neil’s scent on the pillow from the last time they shared a bed, is an improvement on everything he’s done since he woke up without the strength to move.

He puts his back to the wall, closes his eyes, and waits.

It doesn’t take long: Neil is quick in the bathroom, and would probably brush his teeth in the shower for maximal efficiency if Andrew let him. He closes the door of the bedroom, walking the familiar few feets to his bed in the dark with ease that Andrew watches from the comfortably high vantage.

The few minutes have been enough for Andrew to examine himself, prodding at his mind ruthlessly and frankly. Once he’s reached a conclusion—yes—and determined his potential reaction—flinching, setback, flinging Neil off the bed during the night—, he calls, voice low: “Neil.”

Neil stops fiddling with his bed to straighten the sheets and looks up, his face clear in the ray of light coming through the blinds.

“Yes?” he asks when he sees the bare expanse of mattress left where Andrew is pressed against the wall.

“Yes,” Andrew says. “Bring your pillow.”

Neil dumps it on the bed with his comforter, too, because they’ve discovered the hard way that Andrew hogs the blanket, and doesn’t take too well to Neil sleepily rolling closer to him for warmth. Andrew has a new appreciation of the railing running along the length his loft bed, now.

Neil stands on the first step of the ladder while he arranges the bed as they like, with his pillow pressed close to Andrew’s for lack of space and his comforter spread out wide on the bed. Andrew likes to roll himself into his, in what Nicky once called a blanket burrito, but Neil sleeps better unconstricted, so Andrew gets covered by another layer.

It’s not—bad. It’s warm, and it smells like Neil, which means that it mostly smells like Andrew, because Neil doesn’t really know how to keep to his own shampoo. That small sense of familiarity is enough to counterbalance the automatic threat of the weight of another person in the bed.

They’ve shared a bed enough times in the past years that most of the time, Andrew doesn’t feel the need to lash out. Today, his body weights too much for his skin and his thoughts threaten to drag him down every time he steps in the water. They’re not normal circumstances, and Neil’s initial insistence says how clear it is.

The fact that he trusted Andrew with his own decision shouldn’t register like it does, but Andrew is still assuaged when he looks at Neil’s pale face and eyes under his darker mop of hair. It’s getting a little too long, and it’s still damp, leaving wet patches on Andrew’s pillow where it spread when Neil lied down.

Neil seems content not to talk, sleepy and satisfied from playing mind-numbing Exy drills with a fellow obsessive athlete for a few hours. He’ll be rumpled and quiet tomorrow when he wakes up in the same position, because he is an extremely still sleeper, and the contrast will be enough to make Andrew want to kiss him.

Maybe he even will.

Andrew ponders that thought as he lets Neil fall asleep watching him. He wonders if Neil is aware that he does it, or if it’s one of his unconscious ticks. He blinks lazily, his own breathing slowing to match Neil’s, and he decides that he will kiss Neil in the morning. He wants to, after all.

#andreil #aftg #tfc #all for the game #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #neil josten #my writing #not edited because i'm lazy like that

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anyu-blue · 4 years

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*collapses onto bed*

My chest is killing me today... Been hard to breathe for a few days now. I don't think it's anything particularly serious (no crackling noises, so probably just anxiety or whatever is wrong with my heart- obvs not a big deal cuz those test results are still not in my chart)... But I also just feel so drained after work... Struggled through every day this week and have today and tomorrow of not easy as well... Though hopefully more pleasant...

I'm so tired of... Everything in the world. I just want to crawl into my shell and hide away for a while.. but I can't do that. Adulting and responsibilities for one, and obligations to be a good friend and family member for two... Though less now because I no longer have at least one other friend... Which means I don't have any of his friends either by all reports... Woo...

...

I don't want to kick People out of my work anymore... And it appears the owner of the place doesn't want me even asking people to wear masks despite our county AND branch mandate... So the 'solution' is for me to leave people alone. I'm supposed to just let people get away with anything and everything and serve them and more... And I just.. yeah probably anxiety. Makes my chest hurt to think about. Not only ILLEGAL to ask me to do... But so wrong...

Of course I can... But I just.. CAN'T, you know? Sure it's technically possible... But it's one of those invisible barrier things. Morally it's SO wrong I just... Can't bring myself to... To do it.

Sure it's mostly for me because I'm FREAKED OUT I'm going to get Covid (or something else) and be unable to work.. But also I've got 13 People I'm in direct contact with to worry about... Let alone who THEY are in contact with!!! 💔 And that doesn't include my coworkers... The other guests... Or even the other workers who enter our establishment. My heart seizes every time I think about it. Like NO!!! We should NOT be letting people COMING FROM OUT OF STATE AND INFECTED COUNTIES get away with not wearing masks!!! Because if they don't HERE, who's to say they're aren't wearing them elsewhere?! In fact it's HIGHLY LIKELY they're NOT 😭😭😭

... oof... Ouch ouch ouch...

*sigh*

I need this job. Badly. Do I want it? *Laughs quietly* .. I want to help my friends and co-workers, sure... But if I could be doing a remote job instead.. or even one that doesn't face People... Oh how I wish I could have that instead... Or, you know... Be able to sit at home doing what I want while collecting unemployment? YES PLEASE... But nah... Only my ex has the privilege of doing that. Not even his parents get to do that... But judging by his mail still being sent here... He's on it again. And he was on it for so long with those bonuses (and not going out and spending every week due to my worry) that he was able to afford a brand new Lexus...

I should probably not let myself think of that... But I'm so hurt that shitbags get to sit on their asses and be rewarded while those of us who are doing our best and mean every kindness get shit on and walk away with wounds and fear and STILL barely enough to scrape by.... It's no wonder I'm insane and drive everything good out of my life... I want to break out of the poverty cycle... And yet... Idk how. To scared to go back and finish school... I'm almost out of debt for going one year... And it's been 8 since I took that year. 8 years to pay off ONE year of schooling.. and people in the fields I want to pursue aren't doing any better unless they're PERFECT at their job... Which I'm not perfect. 😅 ... I try to apply for better positions to finally kickstart a career, but I'm not the young person with potential anymore so I get passed up for younger people or (more understandably) People with more experience in the area they're looking OR (worst of all) for more well liked friends and family members of the hiring managers... I can't even get work at places my family is anymore because I'm just... Me and problematic... I can't work as hard as I used to (and even when I did work that hard, again, I'm nuts so I've used all my chances and scared them all away).... It's disheartening. It makes the insanity worse because I'm scared all the time and get more hopeless with each 'we've gone another direction'...

It's the same story.. again and again and again with me.... And idk what to do...

I'm in therapy... I'm TRYING very hard... I'm doing good every place I can... But it just doesn't feel like enough.

I'm trying so hard not to feel depressed and so low too... To not throw myself pity parties and just do better!! Do better!! Do better!! .... Wait it out!! It'll get better!!!

Well... It never has... It's only gotten worse... The best I had was that Phlebotomy gig... And that was a whole bag of bad in itself... The only good thing about it at all, really, was that I enjoyed my hours and the work. That's it. Even that wasn't enough to make me stay with it when I stopped being treated as a person but just a money maker when the company got bought out... When they moved my hours and started demanding more for the same pay...

I imagine it's only going to get worse because I can't get a shoe in anywhere.... All the good jobs are already taken or have someone lined up for them... And I just... It's so hard not to be depressed by that. Especially being stuck on Night audit when the rest of the world is day shift... Having to fuck up my sleep and more just to get groceries even... (I totally understand pandemic stuff, but it's supposed to turn permanent so... All night shifters get shafted anyway)... It's not healthy...

But I don't have a choice. Even when I try to... I don't have a choice... And annoyingly of course I have that stupid shitbag's voice going through my head of 'oh they won't hire you for this reason' or 'oh that's a shit job, don't apply for that' or.. or... Ugh... I need to let all that go on top of all of this... But damn it all... Once the dam breaks, EVERYTHING floods out... Everything I've kept at bay...

There's nothing anyone can do for me unless I do stuff myself... More than I am doing... And it hurts too because I'm pushing myself as hard as I can... But it's not as hard as others can and I'm so far behind... I can't... I can't fix it fast enough... Doesn't matter how much I focus on it!!

I ask how I can help or how I can get into Peoples good graces again or if I can ask a favor and all they tell me is 'focus on yourself'... Not realizing (even though I've told them) I need your HELP!! I need other ideas!!! better work!! I need your good word even and my mental state will Drastically improve!!! Please!!! But I'm just nuts... And need to be less nuts... on my own... And it's just.. THIS IS HOW PEOPLE GO NUTS... Being alone all the time. Being the responsible party all the time.. never getting breaks... Like I said... I know I've used all my breaks up... So I shouldn't even be asking or complaining.. I know...

If I want people to reach out to me.. nope. sorry, not going to happen. It's up to me to reach out to them.

If I ask people to do me a favor like looking into a job... Nope, sorry already taken, or (more commonly) just apply and see what happens!! I can't help you (though they help others and even OFFER the position to other friends/family--- namely my step mom offering a position to my little sister that she doesn't want, that I've expressed real interest in AND have mentioned I'm looking for work in... aND I have experience in!! Nope.. completely.. completely ignored AND despite the fact that she has sway... My application will probably be tossed anyway... And I'm Just... I feel destroyed by this)

I should probably just stop here. I'm.. I'm so upset and yet I know.. I KNOW this is all my fault... I've.. made mistakes.. and gone without help I need for so long.. and pushed people away (mostly unintentionally, but obvs that doesn't matter)... And now I'm in this spot where I can ONLY help myself.. and it's so obvious to everyone else, though I feel I could use help people are capable of providing...

I just want to die...

But I don't even want to do that because I actually want so much more for my life and those around me... But not being here would be so much easier and less painful... I'm just a stupid placeholder to make other people feel better. Which, as important as that is, REALLY SUCKS for the person stuck with the job.

I tried so hard for so long.. and I THINK I did good to lift others up, to support them and help them get themselves out of the holes they've dug- those mostly older than myself even.... But to get to the point where that's where I'm at... And simply to have a shovel dropped on my head because I'm 'old enough' to do everything on my own... Despite being told I needn't do it on my own and should ask for help whenever I need it, only to be denied and hurt and have more dirt pulled out from under me instead... (It's very confusing and not at all helping the insane issue I have going on)... It hurts so God damned bad.... And it makes me think that maybe... Maybe I'm NOT wrong about being nuts... That maybe all that 'help' I gave to people wasn't actually me or my help at all... Just People humoring me and pretending.

Idk..

I sound like that awful ex friend of mine...

But honestly... Idk what to do anymore...

My hope... My hope is just about all gone....

And when it is... What do I do? Where do I go?

I'm more like my disgusting mother every day (except the drugs and alcohol abuse)... And I just can't find a way out that isn't wildly hard for me.

I swear I'm suffering undiagnosed Something (asperger's, ADHD, ect?)... Maybe it's just me being a hypochondriac... And lazy... And wishful.. to blame all my problems on an unseen force beyond my control... And that's why everyone tells me to just pick myself up... Because I'm actually normal and just crying for unneeded attention...

#personal #random #ignore me #life in general #don't read this #im just stupid #don't have the heart to delete all of it rn tho #partly because wasteful #partly because i hope against hope it'll be useful or maybe i can prove im not so bad somehow #idk..#i just... idk anymore #idk if i ever did #trigger warnings apply #i didn't kean for this post to go this direction either #i wanted to make a funny jab at how i want merch of a character but have to make it myself #agian if i actually want any.. because it doesn't exist #oops... well.. that's where my head is I sup

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austinpanda · 4 years

Text

Dad Letter 040520

5 April, 2020

Dear Dad--

Seems we have survived another week of the plague! Zach just got back from the grocery store, and every time one of us goes to the store, the other gets to ask, “What were they out of this time?” This time, apparently, they were just about out of pasta. I guess everyone decided the best defense against the coronavirus is a big ol’ pot of spaghetti. Also the Hamburger Helper section was decimated. Carbo-loading for the apocalypse! They had just about everything we needed, so it seems the only thing we’ve had to give up semi-permanently is non-terrible toilet paper, because terrible toilet paper is all they got! I look forward to getting our Charmin back, once it happens.

Since we’re not supposed to leave the house except for groceries, I’ve taken a lot of pictures of stuff going on outside the trailer. We have lots of birds here, so they get photographed a lot. We have honking geese flying overhead, seagulls and crows, mourning doves, and little chickadees, and now with spring, some robins. Every time some seagulls stage a rumble over some hot dog buns they found in the trash, I get pictures of it. I take pictures when it snows, or when the cat does something cute. Normally I’m fine, but being quarantined is so profoundly boring sometimes.

Other things I’ve done to entertain myself: I got on Amazon and ordered some new socks and some sugar-free Life Savers hard candy. (I am inappropriately excited about this, even with the fact that I’m going to have to disinfect everything once it arrives.) Also I gave myself a haircut! I have to say, it looks pretty good. Going outside to throw birdseed on everything. Looking up facts about native birds. I learned that mourning doves make shitty nests. It actually says the nests are well known for being “of flimsy construction.” I checked online for pics of mourning dove nests, and sure enough, their nests look like shit, like someone came along and barfed up a little pile of twigs, and called it a nest.

Oh! I got a call from my new job at Penquis. I was supposed to start work tomorrow! Based on the fact that the governor has ordered everyone to stay home, and the office is closed, it seemed unlikely that I was actually going to be required to show up at the main office in downtown Bangor to begin my training. Finally, at 7:30 on Friday night, my boss called and she told me that I may start in May, but certainly not before then, and possibly as late as August. This is good! If the crisis is over, I’ll work a few weeks in May and get my training done. If not, I’ll (presumably) start up in August, and I can look for something else between now and then if I want to. Doesn’t make much sense to start my job, helping people with their heating bills, right as the summer starts. This works well with my plans to heed the governor’s order to stay home.

So, since we have a couple dozen square yards’ worth of yard, we’re going to plant a garden. Actually, since we’re stuck here, and since we wanted to anyway, and since it’ll help supplement our diet with healthy vegetables, which I normally find abhorrent, and since my new friend is a plant scientist, and because we love making our space a sanctuary for birds and bees and whatever the hell else wanders along, we want to make a nice small garden with bird feeders. We’re going to grow tomatoes and other eating-type things, some herb-type things, some catnip for the kitties, foreign and domestic. You may be astonished to learn that we don’t plan on growing pot, even though the law allows us to do so! There are a few reasons why I don’t want to grow marijuana in my yard, but the main one is this: in a best-case scenario, I grow, say, one plant. It gets all the rain and sunshine it wants, and grows into a huge bush that is 15 feet tall. Suddenly, I’m no longer living in a trailer in Old Town. I’m THE guy who lives in THE trailer next to THE huge-ass marijuana tree, covered with fat, really valuable buds, ripe for stealing, right next to THE McDonald’s in Old Town. Kids walk through our space to get to the school bus. Well, they used to.

So we’ll grow stuff to eat, and stuff to add flavor to the stuff we eat, and lots of local native wildflowers. My new friend Bryan, the plant scientist fellow, has already given us good information about our typical last frost, and when planting can start. We also have some bird feeders and I’m going to see what kind of hummingbirds I can attract here. I’m slightly worried that I’m just creating a delicious buffet for the local stray cats, with all the birdseed I’m scattering about, but I’ll deal with murder kitties if they occur.

Oh! I just thought of something that isn’t so boring it will make you long for death: I saw a kinda good movie yesterday! I saw it on Amazon Prime, so I don’t know if you can see it too. It’s called Soyuz 7, or Salyut 7. And it’s about shit that happened when I was in high school, that I never heard about till now. The movie touts itself as Russia’s version of Apollo 13; a mission that went horribly, terribly wrong in 1985.

In case you don’t remember from when it happened, The Soyuz was a temporarily-unmanned space station that went out of control and started tumbling. And it looked like the Americans were going to be able to get to it with a space shuttle and possibly steal the whole thing, since it was small enough to fit into the shuttle’s payload bay. So the Soviets launch a rocket with two guys who are supposed to dock with the Soyuz station, and fix it, at least well enough so that they can prevent it from falling out of orbit onto a bus full of innocent American school children, and making the USSR look bad.

Just docking with a spinning dead space station is hard enough, but the Soviets manage it. The two cosmonauts set about fixing the Soyuz. Several things go enormously, spectacularly wrong. They manage to avoid dying several times. Finally it comes down to a situation where, if they keep hitting this part on the outside of the Soyuz with a hammer, until this one specific malfunctioning piece breaks off, they might live. And if they can’t break it off, they’re probably going to die. Then the Americans will show up, steal everything, win the space race again, and cause icky democracy and freedom to start spreading across the Soviet Union. It was a good movie! It was in Russian, with subtitles, and starred no one I’ve ever seen before, so it won’t ever be a popular movie here, but it was good.

More next week. Stay safe, and lots of love to you both!

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sharkinlovewithadolphin · 7 years

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Update

Hey lovelies. Okay so it’s been over a month since my surgery, and I’m finally here with an update. Hold on tight ‘cause it’s going to get long. I actually wanted to do some regular updates, but I just really didn’t have the energy or mood to do it. I’ve also left out a lot, mostly because due to me repressing this entire thing, I can’t really put things together very easily (time, dates, details, etc). And because I’ve spend the last month watching and rewatching one show and movie after the other, my mind has chosen to focus on television rather than what’s been going on. Basically this entire experience is almost forgotten, even as it’s still happening. I’ll be updating this post regularly as time passes, so new info and more details will come, along with possible pictures etc. However I probably won’t be reblogging it more than once or twice (for my timezone struggling mutuals), unless I’ll decide to make phone updates, then I’ll be reblogging this post with the update, but I probably won’t, so I won’t be annoying anyone, so if you want to stay tuned about this, this post will be stored in my #updates tag. I’ll be writing down here whenever I update, so it’ll be easier to check for those interested. Posted: 26/10 Update: 27/10

Monday 25th september I was as most of you may know, going under the knife again, this time for a jaw surgery. The day of the surgery wasn’t fun to say the least, it was early in the morning so there wasn’t many people awake and aware of my situation to send me off, but I did get some messages, and that was really nice. As I think I’ve mentioned in a previous update post, I got sick literally the day before the surgery, and that I figured that that would make them post-pone the surgery, ‘cause that’s like basic medical knowledge? Doctors very rarely choose to operate on a patient However my mom didn’t care and the nurses didn’t seem to either. Turns out they should’ve, and that in fact, I was right; I shouldn’t have had the surgery when having a flu, ‘cause not only does it make things worse, it can fuck up a lot. Anyway, I got in at around 9am, luckily earlier than expected. I was being put to sleep through needle instead of mask which I am very grateful for, much less triggering. I was allowed to bring my phone in, so I fell asleep to the sound of music (fun fact: the OR had surprisingly good connection? not that I used it). The surgery took an hour longer than expected (so instead of 3, it turned out to be 4), the reason for that I either don’t know or can’t remember. It should’ve gone okay as far as I was told. I slept five hours afterwards, unlike the other times were I was forced to stay awake due to the blood and open wounds. My mom told me later on that she had wanted to take a photo of me after the surgery, since I looked “so nice” compared to the previous surgeries. I didn’t have all that blood everywhere as I’ve usually had, and despite the swelling it didn’t look bad according to her. The red/blue/green/yellow/purple colors in my face hadn’t come through much then either. I was brought to my room again late evening. The second day was hell. Just everything. But I was out and walking at night. And I ate a little. But everything was just bad. The third day was when the swelling was at it’s maximum. Things weren’t much different from the day before, except I got more used to being in a hospital. Thursday, the forth day, I had to walk down to the clinic (clinic at the hospital), in hospital gown and those blood-cloth-socks, which was all just.. yeah I didn’t like that. I had to walk through the cafeteria area and the hall and I couldn’t walk more than one slow step after the other and even without anxiety it was just.. very uncomfortable in every way possible. At the clinic itself, it was awful. They had to sluice(?) my mouth, it was so aggressively done I literally felt like I was being drowned. And also, hardcore stream of water directly against your newly stitched-together wounds is not a pleasant feeling in case anyone should wonder. My mom, who’d been staying with me at the hospital, insisted on going home that day. I personally didn’t want to. And the doctors didn’t recommend it either, due to the state of swelling I was in; the ear-nose-and-neck doctor was especially against it, fearing the swelling would increase around my throat. But home we went. Regrets arriving pretty quickly after. Not only was the walk from my room, down the elevator and out to the car, very uncomfortable, the wind made me feel sick af. Doing the night, I started throwing up. And keep in mind, doing those first days I ate what all together would’ve made less than one regular one-person diner meal. So I didn’t really have anything in my stomach that could come up you know? So my stomach started cramping, trying to find something to get out. Mouth water, mucous and blood came up with stomach acid, causing my throat to hurt for days after (and when I say hurt, I don’t mean the flu-hurt kind, I mean it felt like my throat had been turned inside-out, then polished with sandpaper, then run over and then put back in). And it just wouldn’t stop. My mom called the emergency doctor who came and gave me a shot of antiemetic. I feel asleep shortly after, for 3 hours until it was time for pills. As for medicine and pills, I was prescripted to take daily: 8 pinemol (500mg) and 6 ibumetin (400mg). Then one laxative and 4 antiemetic. Later on (around 2 weeks ago) I got a nasty infection around one of the stiches under my upper gums-ish. So then I had to take even more pills. Pencilllin for a week (3 times daily, to a meal), along with a stronger dosis of antiemetic (Ondansetron Aurobindo, 4mg, 2-3 times daily) pills (originally they wanted to give me a type of pill used for cancer patients treated with radiation, but since I can’t stand bad tastes, they decided on those instead. They taste like pineapple lol) and some lactic acid pills (once a day). With the infection came a massive step-back for me. I woke up daily with gross taste and this grumsy looking stuff in my mouth, for a long time, way before I found out why. Then one night, as I was cleaning my mouth, I must have poked an even bigger hole in it, ‘cause then it just started coming out faster and more of it. I woke up at 2am that night with a massive swelling in my left cheek, and when I was woken up at around 7:40, my cheek had grown so big I could barely see out of my eyes, again. The swelling from surgery had gone down a lot, however there had been a slight difference between each sides; my left cheek have been bigger and way more sore than my right, already early on, so the infection has been there for a long time. We got an appointment at the hospital clinic and he could quickly determent that it was indeed an infection. I took my first pencillin pill the same day. However. That night I started throwing up again and my mom ended up calling the emergency doctor again (fun story; the doctor who picked up actually previously worked for the clinic I go to, he’s even assisted to the type of surgery I had). He told my mom I threw up due to the pencillin (and that it was perfectly normal), hence me being prescripted stronger antiemetics. The next day when my mom called my doctor to get the prescription, it turns out the dosis of pain meds I’ve been given is way too much. Damaging much in fact. So my three weeks use of that can possibly have effected my liver. So that’s nice. Maximum is 8 pinemol and 3 ibumetin a day. That’s 3 x 400mg ibumetin too much daily for three weeks. That is not good. Now I take them based on need, which turns out to not be much. I take 2 pinemol in the morning, 2 at night, and then throughout the day it kinda variates. I often take 2 in the afternoon/evening due to my teeth being too sore. And that’s it. So the massive amount of painkillers was probably never even necessary. I got the shine off tuesday, making me now able to chew in soft-only things. My first meal was fries (I literally just got out of the clinic when I asked my mom if we could go get fries onn the way home lol). I got homemade pizza for dinner. And I finally ate ice cream without having to melt it into liquid and then drink it. It’s nice eating instead of drinking. it’s nice getting to eat instead of drink my food, really. The infection is now gone, and I took my last pincillin pill this morning, so that’s nice. However, when I got the shine off, they changed my rubberbands and the position of them, to a place where the hooks are so small and almost invisible, so when I put them on I’m scratching hole into my gums. I’m going into the clinic again tomorrow to have it checked, and hopefully fixed. Anyway it’s late and I should go to sleep, so I’ll post now even though I’m far from done. I might get around to edit it tomorrow though, then also write how things went at the clinic. I’ll end this by giving a giant thanks to everyone who’s sent me messages, all the encouraging few but important people rooting for me. Especially @hamykia for regularly asking me for updates and how I’ve been doing. It meant so much to me, ‘cause there’s been so many people who seemed to not give a shit or even forget what type of situation I’ve been in and still am in. As I’ve told you before, feeling like you legitimately cared for me has been one of the better things to keep me going through this. And ofc also Meg for being the only one around every single day. Even when it’s shortly, I can always count on you being around. And also some of my mutuals who’ve reached out to me and given me their wishes and kind words, also those before the surgery. Thank you guys. :) And as an end, I’d like to just thank the nurses at the teeth-mouth and jaw surgical ward. They treated me better than the nurses did at the childrens ward has ever done, which was shocking. They were extraordinarily patient and understanding, and knew exactly what they were dealing with. I was in good hands. Thank you. Update: - I got the hook changed and it’s a lot easier now. Left side is still a struggle though and in the right side I've accidentally cut into my gums like once or twice. But the new hooks are adjustable so I guess it’s just a matter of testing and getting used to. - I found out today that they’ve kept from me yet another surgery detail. I won’t get the feeling back in my palate for around a year. And the feeling in my chin and lower lip still isn’t there which they say “is normal”. So that’s really nice. Fuck you doctors. :) (note: because I from the very first mention of the surgery told them very clearly that I did not want to go through with it, they’ve done everything to make it seem like nothing, something simple and struggle-less, keeping details hidden from me, sugar coding things, and so on. I didn’t even know I had to get the shine on until a couple of days prior surgery. I didn’t even know where they would make the cuts. Back when I asked, all they said was it was going to be inside my mouth; as if that wasn’t obvious. And I didn’t know that an effect of the surgery has done so my chin is 1/3 size of what it was pre-surgery. I’m very angry because of this to say the least. I feel like l’ve been unwillingly lead to pure hell all because I a. trusted them and b. they already planned the whole thing and because of my anxiety and personality I can’t let people down when they’ve spend weeks planning something. I should’ve never had this surgery, and the regrets just keeps getting worse and worse with every passing day.) - One of the four screws (which I btw hadn’t been told about either, and found out about days after as I was cleaning my mouth), has grown into my gums. I have a screw under my skin now, a screw I wasn’t even told was going to be there, now has to be cut free if they have to use them. And as a side note, I don’t know how they’re going to get them out after this whole shit show is over with, and they avoided telling me so now I’m stuck with this entire thing without knowing the end of it.

* PLEASE feel free to ask any questions. You can send me an ask or hit me up with a message. I’ll reply through both, to anything you may have any thoughts on. I might add your question to this post, though unmentioned unless requested.

#updates #surgery #long post #saving for later #this is probably so filled with typos i'm going to cringing the entire time i'll be editting it tomorrow

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flawedimagination · 8 years

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Rae of Sunshine- Chapter 5 Just Two Drops

Pairing: Eric/ OC

Fandom: Divergent

Rating: M

Summary: Rae thought Amity was where she belonged. Even with her dark past fuming inside of her, she had always done her best to suppress it. With Choosing Day approaching she was confident in her decision to stay in Amity. That is until a certain Dauntless Leader came roaring into Amity's gates. Once Eric has Rae in his sights he is willing to do anything to have her, even if that means breaking her and destroying the world she lives in.

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me longer than expected. Thank you to everyone who has read and kept up with Rae of Sunshine! You guys rock! Enoy!

tags: @ariwolff14 @beltz2016 @lauraaan182 @silverintentions @guiltyissues @itschibi @alida90 @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @lilu46 @calistalupinmoon

Words: 3710

Rae stared out the window, watching Eric disappear into the distance. Once she felt he was no longer a threat, she quickly made her way to kitchen to fix her remedy. Walking into the kitchen, Rae hadn’t noticed the body sitting at her kitchen table.

“Hello Rae.”

Rae jumped at the unexpected voice, turning to see Johanna sit at the table holding a cup of tea. “Johanna? You scared me. I was just about to make some tea.” Rae said. She fumbled through the cupboard to find a mug that would suit her needs.

“Was that Eric I heard outside with you?” Johanna asked. Rae started biting at her cheek, she knew what type of conversation they were about to have. “Umm yes. Poppy let him walk me back from the stable.” Rae answered as she filled the kettle with water.

“You should try to keep your distance from him.”

“I know.”

“He’s very dangerous and has no remorse for being so.”

“I know.”

“It's not good for you to be around him. He has a way of coaxing people into doing things. Horrible things they wouldn’t normally do and you don’t need that Rae.”

“I know.”

“If he were to find out about your past, he could use it against you making you a part of his little game. Nothing brings him more pleasure than to watch someone crumble. He’s capable of that Rae. He would crush you into a million little pieces, pieces that can’t be put back together after.”

“I know. I know. I know. I fucking know!” Rae yelled while slamming the delicate teacup on the counter, breaking it instantly. Johanna’s eye instantly went wide at Rae. Rae was shocked by her actions that came about just by talking about Eric. She immediately scrambled to pick up the broken pieces of the tiny teacup.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Its just I can’t stop him from finding me. No matter how hard I try, he’s always right around the corner. It’s like I’m his prey and he just keeps stalking me waiting to attack. When he’s around me I feel things I know I shouldn’t be feeling. Like the old me will come bursting out, at any minute. The scary thing is he already knows, Johanna.”

“What do you mean he knows?”

“In your office, after the soldier incident. He said he knew I was different and that he could sense my aggression. He told me… I was just like him.”

“Rae you’re nothing like him. You’ve come so far from where you were back then. That Rae is gone and she’ll never resurface again. I’ll make sure of that.”

“How can you be so sure? One more little thing from Eric can make me come undone and I don’t think I can control myself much longer.”

Johanna pulled out a small brown bottle and placed it in Rae’s hands. “I called in a special request to Erudite.”

“Erudite? Doesn’t Amity make their own peace serums?”

“Yes, we do but this isn’t peace serum. This is stronger, more effective in shutting down any inclination of violent rage. Those thoughts and feelings will fade away allowing you to enjoy the world in balance and harmony.”

“It won’t change how I act will it or the choices I make”

“It will only make you better Rae. This is what you wanted right? I just want you to be happy and at peace with your life. All it takes is two little drops.” Johanna said holding out her cup. Rae was hesitant at first but she knew Johanna had her best interest. Before Rae took the cup in her hands she looked Johanna in the eye.

“Poppy doesn’t need to know about this. It stays between us. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Rae took the small cup to her lips letting the warm liquid slip through. At first, she felt nothing, but then a feeling of emotions flooding out of her hit. It was like she could feel herself being drained. Her breathing became deeper and it felt like time had slowed down. When she tried to move, it was like she was stumbling. Looking around the kitchen was like seeing things in a new light. Everything was glowing making her feel like she was in settling into a Euphoria state.

“It’ll probably feel hazy the first couple times you take it, but you’ll get used to it. Be sure only to do two droplets, once a day. No more and no less. We should get you to bed before Poppy gets home. Come on I’ll help you.”

It was easy for Rae to comply to Johanna with the new state she was in. Johanna helped Rae to her room and led Rae to sit on her bed. Johanna then grabbed her nightgown and motioned for Rae to take off her day clothes. Johanna slipped the nightgown over Rae’s head, then continued to adjust it around her curves. Johanna went to find Rae brush to smooth out the tangles in her hair from her ride with Luna. After running the brush through Rae’s now smoothed over waves, Johanna ran her fingers through her long locks. When Rae was little, Johanna would massage her scalp to help put her to sleep and as expected Rae dozed off within seconds.

Johanna looked over Rae as she slept making sure she was properly tucked in. She kissed her forehead before whispering, “Peace be with you.” Johanna crept out of the room slowly closing the door to not make any noise. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t feeling guilty about giving Rae her new medication. She knew what the side effects were, but she also knew the good it could do for Rae. Johanna had watched Rae grow up in pain. She had done and would do anything in her power to protect her even if that meant protecting her from herself.

As Johanna exited the house all was quiet and peaceful, making Johanna unaware of the pair of gray eyes watching her.

Rae felt more groggy when she awoke from her heavy sleeping. It took her a second to remember what happened last night, but the small brown bottle that sat on her nightstand explained it all. Rae sat up grabbing the bottle, examining it closely. The bottle didn’t contain a label and the smell was quite pungent. She wondered how the serum worked and if it was the ultimate cure for her. It didn’t matter how the serum worked as long as it kept her rage at bay.

Rae got dressed and walked to the kitchen clutching the small brown bottle in her hand. Poppy had scrambled eggs with strips of honey-smoked bacon waiting for her. Rae was pleased with the hardy breakfast Poppy had made for her. She munched on the crispy pieces of bacon, thinking about the festival tomorrow. All the games and activities that would be held had her smiling.

She hoped Poppy would have the horses come out so that the kids could ride them around. Their reactions to the horses were always priceless as Rae remembered. She was really excited thinking about the grape stomping. It was one of her favorite activities that everyone enjoyed participating in. Feeling the grapes being smushed between her toes, making a mess, laughing with her friends in the mass of playful chaos, why wouldn’t it be her favorite? All the games and races would be enjoyable to watch, just seeing everyone together would be enjoyable.

Everyone except Dauntless, which will be a sight to see. Seeing Dauntless at the Jovial Festival was a joke in itself to Rae. Seeing Eric amongst flower power tribe was on a whole other level. Rae wondered if the soldiers would participate in any activities, though she couldn’t imagine Eric being a part of the grape stomping. She couldn’t even imagine him barefoot. He would probably skip out on that part, he didn’t seem like the jovial type.

Rae realized she needed to get a move on to the warehouse and made her tea in a swift motion. She stared at the brown bottle that held her artificial feelings. “Two drops that’s all it takes, just two little drops,” she said to herself. She took the droplet in her hand and dispensed two small drops in the tea. Taking her mug, she looked at the hot liquid, “Well bottoms up, I guess.”

Walking to the Warehouse was a bit of a challenge for Rae. With everything seeming to be in slow motion, the details in everything came out so suddenly. The colors were more vibrant, the motion of the air blowing had a different sensation, and the smell of everything was stronger. It was like nature was new again. The plastered smile on Rae’s face was noticeable to her friend when she came up to her.

“Are you okay this morning Mrs. Smiley?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know you just seem different?”

“I’m just happy, I mean look at how beautiful it is.”

Tibby looked around at the usual area they had walked ever since they could walk, trying to figure out what was so magnificent about it. She shook off Rae weird behavior, as she wanted to talk about Zeke.

“So last night things got a little steamy with my soldier.”

“What happened?”

“Well I decided he needed to see the greenhouse and all its qualities. So as I was showing him around I accidentally slipped and fell bringing him down with me. Well with him on top of me I told him that I think I hurt my hip and asked him to massage it. Let's say he didn’t just massage my hip. And could let him go without thanking him so I gave him a little massage.”

“Oh my.”

“Oh my? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say. I was expecting a big blow up and ‘Dauntless are nothing but brutes’ but not an ‘oh my’ what’s gotten into you Rae?”

“Nothing everything’s fine. If you happy, I’m happy. God just look at how beautiful everything is today Tibby!”

“Yeah okay?”

“Tell me why the hell Amity is taking the whole fucking day off tomorrow?”

“Now Eric its not just a party it’s a festival that goes on all day its tradition. Surely you have traditions back at Dauntless. Plus I think it would be good for Dauntless and yourself to experience our traditions here you might enjoy it.”

“Which part the flower picking or interpretive dancing?”

“Oh I think you’d enjoy the flower picking it involves a bit of fitness you know.” Johanna joked.

Eric leaned dangerously close over Johanna’s desk making her straighten up. “Don’t play around with me Johanna. I know Amity is slowly falling behind on the harvest I’ve checked the numbers. No one else would’ve noticed but I did and if you think this hippy fest is going to distract me from that your wrong.” Eric stated.

“Eric I didn’t mean to upset you. Please. the festival allows the people to enjoy Amity making them want to work harder to keep it running as it is to keep having these types of events. It’s not a distraction it’s an award. Think of it like that you deserve an award for how hard you’ve work.” Johanna pleaded.

“Please Johanna kissing my ass won’t help your situation. I’ve also taken the initiative to look at your population your over crowded so you either need to start cutting people out of Amity or build.”

“Well that’s a simple solution, let's just build.”

“I thought you might say that so I’ve already taken a look at the grounds of the compound.”

“I’m not surprised,” Johanna said rolling her eyes.

“Good I’ve chosen lot 14 as the new building ground. I was puzzled to look up that, that was where the old warehouse was built before.”

“Yes, there was a fire. We lost two lives that night.” Johanna choked.

“I know I saw it was filed under as an accident. But it's funny the details just don’t seem to add up. You mind explaining?” He questioned.

“Erudite was coming out to Amity to put in electrical wiring. Somehow the wires made a spark, which caused the fire. The couple in the warehouse were taking inventory that night and were trapped. It was a very hard night for all of us.” Johanna said with a stone cold voice.

“I’m sure it was, but hey it probably fertilized the land right?”

Johanna’s face was stone to his crude joke.

“Oh come on I thought that was a good one? Well anyways I’ve already approved it as the new building spot.” Eric articulated.

“Well maybe we could find another area once perhaps in lot 34?” Johanna questioned.

“No to far, I think lot 14 will do quite nicely.”

“Eric that’s a resting place to the two lives we lost that night.” She begged

“It's either this or you start cutting. I mean I can do it if you want. Look just save us both some headaches and sign the damn paper.” He commanded

Eric held slid the document over to Johanna watching her expressions closely. His lips started curling up when he saw her reaching for a pen. Pleased with her compliance he grabbed the paper and moseyed to the door, but stopped when Johanna spoke up.

“Eric, have you ever felt sympathetic towards anything at all?”

Eric looked back at her, puzzled by the question. He then chuckled to himself and left Johanna to her thoughts, thinking about how she was going to tell Rae.

Rae kept humming to herself, as they were finishing up in the orchard. She was content with how her day was going. The medicine had calmed down and Rae felt normal after a while, she wondered how exactly this stuff worked but she honestly didn’t care. She had no fits of rage or fear of breaking out into a tantrum, but she also hadn’t seen Eric that day either.

“Rae, Rae! Let’s go! And will you stop humming you’re bugging me.”

“Sorry.” She giggled lugging her basket to catch up with Tibby.

“Don’t forget tomorrow you’re coming over to my house to get ready for the festival.”

“Right! Are you going to the Day Fest?” Rae asked Tibby.

“Of course I told Zeke I’d show him around. You don’t mind do you? You could always tag along. I’m sure one of his buddies will be there.”

“Oh thanks, but no thanks. I’m sure Joshua will accompany me tomorrow or at least I hope.” Rae said. “What happened? You two get in a fight? It wasn’t about Cara was it?” Tibby asked.

“No it was about well, Eric. I told him it wasn’t safe for him to be around me with Eric lurking about. He didn’t take it well I don’t think.”

“Oh so he’s jealous.” Tibby said.

“Joshua jealous no. Why would he be jealous? It's not like I’m ‘in love’ with Eric how could I be?” Rae reassured.

“Come on Rae! A strong, dashing Dauntless leader that’s had his sights set on you the moment he rolled into Amity. Why wouldn’t Joshua be jealous? Hell I’d be jealous too!”

“He has nothing to be jealous about. I don’t like Eric! He hasn’t tried to hold one conversation without touching me. He doesn’t want to get to know me. Not like Joshua. He’s only after one thing and I don’t plan on giving it to him!”

“Do you find him attractive? And be honest.”

Rae bit at her cheek at Tibby’s question. She couldn’t deny that Eric was definitely something to look at, but that was as far as it went. Looks erode, but who a person is on the inside remains. And so far, Rae didn’t see anything about Eric on the inside that she liked.

“He is handsome, but looks can only go so far. I need someone who can carry me emotionally to be there to make me laugh or to comfort me when I cry. I need to feel safe with someone physically and emotionally. I need someone like Joshua. I need Joshua.” Rae declared.

“Well maybe you just need to get to know him. I’m not going to lie I’d want to get to know him. He’s seems interesting. I feel like maybe you have more in common with him than you think.”

Before Rae could protest, they arrived at the warehouse and were greeted by the ever-calculating Daniel. “Good afternoon Ladies, Tibby I hope your day has gone well.” Daniel said with a distasteful tone.

“Why it has Dan- Dan thanks for asking!” Tibby cheerfully said.

Daniel huffed and went on to check Rae’s bucket of produce, then moved on to Tibby’s. Surprisingly, Tibby actually reached the quota and without Rae’s help, but how could she when Rae was in la la land the whole time they were picking.

Nilly came running up towards the warehouse in a frantic mode, Tibby and Rae grew concerned and stopped her to make sure everything was okay. Nilly’s eyes were streaming with tears when the girls asked what was wrong.

“It’s my Nana she fell while we were picking. She said she felt a little fatigued, but said she would be fine. I should’ve stopped her right there. When she fell we had to get help from some of the Dauntless patrol to help carry her. I’m so scared, what if they make her factionless. Oh my god!” Nilly cried.

“Calm down it’ll be okay. Nana’s a tough old bird, she’s been here for seventy-two years, best fielder we have in fact!” Tibby said hoping to comfort Nilly.

“What are you doing here Nilly? You should be with your Nana.” Rae said softly. “When she fell we left everything back in the orchard, her bucket, my water sack. Daniels going to have a cow if he doesn’t log in her work.” Nilly sniffled. Rae and Tibby looked at each other for a moment, thinking the same thing. Everyone knew Nana, she was a hard worker even for her age. The girls loved Nana and her sweet remarks she would make.

“I’ll go get your water sack and Nana’s bucket. Don’t you worry about it. You just go be with your Nana.” Rae said. “I’ll walk you back to your Nana’s” Tibby added.

“Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me and my Nana.” Nilly said crying even more than before.

Rae walked for a while before stumbling on Nilly’s water sack and her Nana’s bucket. They weren’t lying when they said Nana was one of the best fielders Amity has ever had. The bucket had to more than double what Rae would bring in. Rae tried lugging the bucket but because of the new peace serum she couldn’t concentrate which frustrated her.

Rae continued with her miserable attempts, failing each time. Her finale attempted ended with almost all of the apples scattering all over the ground. A dark, menacing chuckle was heard from behind her causing her to whip her head around. There leaning against the large shady tree stood the fearless Dauntless leader curving pieces of apple with a sharp blade.

“What? What are you doing here?” Rae asked scrambling to pick up all the scattered apples. “Enjoying the view Sunshine.” He said taking a bite out of a piece of apple.

“The question is what are you doing here?” he countered.

“There was an accident Nilly asked me to get her stuff.” Rae said quickly on her feet. Eric walked towards her examine her. “This accident wouldn’t happen to involve Nilly’s sweet dear old ‘Nana’ now would it?” Eric asked in a sly voice.

“Maybe.” Rae said sharply. Where Rae would usually feel anger was dismissed. A wave of calm washed over her face causing her to soften, Eric immediately noticing a change in her demeanor. “You alright Sunshine?”

Rae only smiled and nodded at him then went back to gathering the apples. For the next couple of minutes, nothing was said which annoyed Eric. Rae continued to pick up the scattered apples while smiling. Eric felt as if she was ignoring him on purpose, so he decide he was going to try to rile up the little Amity as he had done it before and thoroughly enjoyed it.

“So Sunshine I’ve finally decided what your punishment will be.” Eric mused. Rae didn’t even flinch and was still in her own little world. Eric took notice that she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted so he would try another tactic.

As she bent down to retrieve one of the last couple of apples, she felt a something zoom past her leaving her with a pinch of pain by her ear. When the knife struck the tree, she felt a small trickle of blood run down her ear. Her mouth dropped at the shock of what Eric had done. She looked over at him with fear in her eyes, which put a smile on his face.

“Do I have your attention now, Sunshine?” He asked walking towards her. Rae only nodded, as that was all she could do. “Good. I’ve decided for your punishment, which this is more like a honor if you think about it. Is to be my escort to the festival tomorrow. I really want to get a sense of what Amity is and what better way than to have you show me?”

“I. Umm.” Rae muttered trying to find the words to say. The serum was keeping her from voicing her true opinion she almost felt like she was going to faint. Eric closed the space between two of them grinning down at Rae’s confused face.

“Here let me help you with that.” He said as he grabbed the bucket of apples as if it weighed nothing. Eric started walking towards the warehouse before calling out to Rae, “Come along Sunshine I haven’t got all day.”

Rae without questioned grabbed Nilly’s water sack and caught up with Eric. It was amazing how obedient Rae was being which was what scared her the most.

#eric divergent #eric fanfic #eric coulter #eric coulter x oc #divergent #dauntless #amity #insurgent #rae of sunshine #eric divergent fanfiction #jai courtney #chapter 5

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alcoholicseraphim · 7 years

Text

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Five-Year I- Echo, Love

On Monday, October twenty-seventh, a small family made up of Muggleborns was found dead. Hermione felt an exhausted sigh bubble up in her chest. Two Muggleborn parents and their eight-year old daughter were killed in their living room with the Dark Mark floating over their house. Eight years old, and still filth.

Hermione wasn't the only one affected, either. Lily was fairly subdued that day, and most of the other Muggleborns as well. With the rest of the students it really depended on the individual.

"It's begun, hasn't it?" said Lily at breakfast that morning. "They haven't caught him over the summer. He's still here. He's not going to go away, is he?"

The time-traveler looked down at her plate and said nothing, gritting her teeth against the words she wanted to say.

None of the teachers commented on their somber students, which Hermione was grateful for. "Business as usual" would probably be the best thing to do.

"Miss Granger," called Professor McGonagall. "Would you please demonstrate the wand motions and incantation necessary to change a tortoise into a hat, without using your wand?"

Hermione complied absentmindedly, earning herself ten points for Gryffindor. Lily reached under the desk and squeezed her hand. The bushy-haired girl squeezed back.

Lunch came and went, and Hermione was happy to find the volume level back to normal. Things like this would happen all the time, and it wouldn't do to get hung up on each. At the same time, Hermione felt herself wincing internally at their willingness to move on so quickly.

Hermione found Lily in the library later that day. "You're planning something," she observed.

The redhead nodded without hesitation. "I've been thinking. Perhaps Potter can have a chance. If the war's on... we don't have 'all the time in the world', do we? And it would just be a date, not getting engaged. No commitment, right?"

Hermione nodded, doing her best not to seem too enthusiastic. It was about damn time! "When?"

Lily's only response was a thoughtful shrug. Hermione joined her and they both began studying, although fundamentally different subject matter.

*|II8II|*

Lily was a very bold girl.

Hermione smiled at the tiny blush on Lily's face as Lily daintily speared her pasta with her fork. The brunette wondered vaguely how Lily could be so graceful about it, seeing as she was hardly looking at where it was going. She was far too busy trying to be sneaky about staring at James Potter.

Was today the day?

Dinner ended soon after, and no one was in a huge rush to get back to their common rooms. Lily strode up to the Marauders and tapped on James's shoulder. "Excuse me, may I have a word?"

Anyone with eyes could see the shock and excitement that were at war on the boy's face. He nodded eagerly and glanced at the others. Sirius was grinning.

Would you like to go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend? Hermione didn't have to be within earshot to understand the phrase that Lily had rehearsed over and over.

James said yes immediately, as Hermione had expected. She felt almost as if she should applaud.

It seemed that she'd drifted over to the other three Marauders, but she didn't notice until Remus said, "Well, I wasn't expecting things to go quite that way." Sirius laughed at Hermione's startled jump. She normally would have glared, but she didn't really feel like it. Everyone was in an exceptional mood.

Lily practically dragged Hermione away, boldness evidently drained for the moment.

"Merlin, that was- that was scary, and exciting, and- wow! I'm going on a date with James Potter! Can you believe it?" Lily was beyond happiness, and into the giddiness that only such a situation could warrant.

"You and I both knew he would say yes, Lil." Hermione couldn't fight down her grin, either.

"Yeah," said Lily. "Still, it's not normal for the girl to ask the boy out." Hermione felt a twinge of irritation. She'd forgotten the mindset of the seventies when it came to gender roles. "All the better! It's a welcome change."

*|II8II|*

The date evidently went well, judging by Lily's rosier-than-normal face. Her eyes were positively shining, and she couldn't seem to stop giggling.

"What did you think?" Hermione asked, patting the space next to her on the bed.

Lily's grin grew. "It was wonderful! James was a perfect gentleman, but not so much that he was overbearing. He didn't take me straight to Zonko's like I expected, he asked me where I wanted to go and actually seemed happy to follow me around a bookstore for two hours! Can you believe it? I mean, I know I asked him and everything, but I kind of expected it to be a flop."

Hermione smiled back, rubbing Lily's hair until it was messy and static-y. Instead of yelping and rushing to fix it like Hermione anticipated, Lily just laughed and mussed her hair right back. Hermione scowled. She deserved that.

"I think it's about time for dinner, Hermione," declared Lily after glancing at her watch.

Dinner itself went without a hitch. Lily couldn't stop touching or looking at James, and James just seemed completely thrilled at Lily's hard-won attentions. Hermione doubted that very much food actually got to their mouths, as their plates were both nearly full when dinner ended.

Sirius was still confused about James and Hermione getting along, and now Lily had finally agreed to date James. Hermione could read all of his emotions on his face: bemusement, smugness, and concern. She smirked and patted his shoulder sympathetically. He swatted at her hand vaguely, scowling at her.

Dinner was over soon after, and the group picked up their bags and made to leave. They were halfway out the doors when Hermione spotted Severus Snape approaching.

Oh, no, she thought, horrified. This would not turn out well at all.

"What do you want, Snape?" Lily asked coldly as the boy stopped in front of them.

"How could you, Lily? After six years of abhorring Potter, you date him? What about all he's done to you? To me?" Severus Snape was well and truly furious. Hermione knew that he loved the woman he was yelling at, and so did Lily, so Lily shouted back. No one seemed to care that they were in no way somewhere private. The six of them were drawing a crowd.

"We aren't friends! You have absolutely no right to say anything about us, not after what you called me! If I date James, it's my own damn business! Keep your nose out of it!" Lily was worse. Her eyes snapped with rage, and Hermione wanted to smack some sense into her. Not enough to actually do it, apparently, because she remained shifting her weight awkwardly.

"Snivellus, I suggest you find your snake pit and slither back in."

Lily shushed her boyfriend, but Sirius found his way into the screaming match.

It was almost too loud to hear what they were shouting.

Hermione, Remus, and Peter exchanged glances. This whole thing- it wasn't their battle to fight. Yet, they couldn't leave, because the three angry teens would turn on them later if they did.

This went on. Lily ended up in tears, James was obviously a hair away from punching the boy, and Sirius's face was purple.

Severus walked away quickly, and Hermione could have sworn he was also about to cry.

She felt sorry for him, but not enough to abandon Lily.

"Come on, then," said Remus after a moment.

Lily sniffed, wiping at her cheeks and attempting a smile. "Yeah," she agreed. "There's homework to do before tomorrow."

Hermione and Peter followed the rushing quartet at a more sedate pace. Hermione glared over her shoulder at the crowd. "Get a move on, would you?" she growled, and the hallway cleared.

Entering the common room some minutes later, Hermione saw the Marauders, but no Lily. Sirius noticed her roving eyes and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the girls' dorm. She smiled politely to thank him and raced up the stairs.

Lily was sitting on Hermione's bed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She greeted her friend with a watery smile and a shrug. "I knew that would happen," she said.

Hermione wrapped her arms around the crying girl. "It still should have happened differently. It'll be fine, Lily." When that didn't cheer her up, Hermione decided to try a different tactic. "So you and James are dating now, huh?" She grinned slyly down at Lily.

The redhead was startled into laughter. "Oh," she said, calming down. "Yeah. We decided at dinner."

Hermione pulled her into another hug. She was relieved that her work hadn't been for nothing.

Later that night, after homework was finished and the lights were out, Hermione could hear Lily's muffled sobs. She pretended to be asleep when Lily got up early the next morning to clean up before anyone saw her face. Lily hadn't slept any more than Hermione had, and she was pretending not to hurt. Hermione knew better, and she frowned into her pillow. When Lily came to wake Hermione up, Hermione smiled at her friend. "Are you okay?" she asked as if she didn't know the answer.

"Not really," Lily answered honestly. "But I'll get over myself." She busied herself at the vanity, puttering over lotions and cosmetics before applying nothing, as usual.

"What are your plans for the holidays?" Hermione changed the subject, stretching languidly once on her feet.

Lily's lips turned up. "Going home," she said. "It'll be good to see my Mum and Dad, and even Tuney. Maybe she'll be happier now that she's going out with that Dursley boy."

Hermione agreed, thinking on her own arrangements. She would be staying in Aberforth's pub again. A contented smile spread over her face at the thought. When Lily asked her, however, Hermione lied and said that she would be staying with her parents. No one here knew how alone she was, fortunately. Except for Dumbledore, of course.

"Do you like them?" Lily asked curiously.

Hermione started, not expecting her friend to ask for details. "They're wonderful, especially since I'm never around. They don't have enough time with me to become frustrated, which does wonders for our relationship."

Lily giggled. "It's the same with mine, actually. Distance hasn't exactly made my sister fonder of me, though."

"Oh." Hermione remembered very well the personality of Petunia Dursley. She wasn't sure that the woman could feel any fondness for anyone who wasn't completely, totally mundane. Like herself.

Potions that day was full of tension. Lily was determinedly not looking even in the direction of Severus Snape. The boy himself was focused on his cauldron with a carefully blank expression.

Hermione frowned. This wouldn't do at all.

Perhaps the only upside to the situation was that Lily and James had gotten closer faster. Lily hesitantly pulled him aside on the way back from dinner and gave him a kiss.

Hermione thought it was sweet. Normally she would feel at least the tiniest bit of disapproval, but James was Harry's father. She couldn't possibly want them to not get together.

She couldn't help but be slightly annoyed at finding Lily and James snogging in the corner of the common room whenever she came back from the library. Thank Merlin Madame Pince didn't allow displays of affection in the library.

*|II8II|*

The search for the properties of the stone wasn't going well. No matter how many books Hermione stayed up until dawn reading she couldn't find even a mention of the thing. Even just the name of it would be helpful.

The stone was safely wrapped in exactly eighteen pairs of socks. For a reason unknown even to herself, Hermione was terrified of her roommates seeing the stone. What if they discovered its powers and she wasn't there? What if they asked where she'd gotten it?

In any case, Hermione figured the best place for it was inside her locked and warded trunk.

Hermione was locked inside the bathroom well after the rest of the Gryffindors left on the Hogwarts Express, examining the stone as best she could under the bright light. There was nothing new. She didn't know what she'd expected.

She sat cross-legged on the cold floor, cradling the stone in her lap. One hand ran over the surface, when she found an irregularity that hadn't been there before.

"Hmm?" she said aloud, holding it up to the light. She hadn't imagined it! There was a crack, spanning over half the thing. Before Hermione's thrilled eyes, several more appeared. There was a clicking sound from inside.

How foolish of her, to just assume that it was a stone! It was so obvious now that it was an egg, and she couldn't wait to see what hatched from it.

Then it occurred to her that not everything was harmless. Basilisks, for example, turned their mothers to stone immediately upon hatching.

As much as Hermione didn't want to, she backed away from the egg and placed protective wards around herself, feeling what little magic she'd regained drain away. She found a handheld mirror and angled it just so. If she did accidentally catch sight of the thing's eyes, she wouldn't die.

The first thing she saw was the head, pretty and damp. It was the color of fire, but Hermione could see shades of purple in there, too. The creature's beak was deadly-looking, but it was obviously not a basilisk. Hermione dropped the mirror.

"Hey," she crooned, realizing it was a bird of some sort. There was something incredibly familiar about it, she thought as the beautiful baby shook itself free from its shell.

Hadn't Fawkes looked much like this when he was reborn?

Oh.

Hermione canceled the wards and the baby phoenix waddled towards her. Its feet were purple and silver, just like Fawkes's had been. It rubbed its head against the bare skin of Hermione's leg. She smiled fondly down at the creature.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, and the phoenix jumped slightly. "No, I suppose not. I don't know much about new phoenixes, though, as Fawkes was very much grown up by the time I knew him. What do you eat, anyway? I'll bet you're very hungry, my love. We'll see what we can do, won't we? To the library!"

She scooped up the phoenix and placed it on her shoulder. It grasped her hair tightly in it's talons, and Hermione felt a moment of worry. Her shoulder probably wasn't a very secure perch. Sweeping out into the dorm room, Hermione grabbed several pieces of cloth and wrapped them into a makeshift pouch, lamenting her lack of magic.

"Is this okay?" she asked the phoenix, showing it the pouch. There was a small chirp in response, which Hermione took as a yes.

Once the phoenix was situated and hidden in the folds of her robes, Hermione made her way down to the library, intent on searching for information on phoenixes. However, it quickly occurred to her that it would be much more efficient to go to Harry's and look there. After all, as smug and obnoxious as Keane was, he had obviously known what the "stone" was. He would be able to point her towards the most helpful books.

"We're going to go see Keane, okay?" she told the phoenix. Hermione really needed to find a name for it. And find out its gender.

The pair successfully maneuvered through the streets of Hogsmeade without the phoenix being spotted. Keane greeted Hermione immediately upon their entrance, and Hermione beamed at him.

"A phoenix egg," she breathed, and showed him the pouch and its occupant.

"May I see?" asked Keane, and Hermione looked to the phoenix for permission. It didn't seem to have any problems with the man handling it. After several moments of scrutiny, Keane announced, "A female. She's a female."

Hermione took back her phoenix and settled her back in the pouch.

Keane took her into the second room, and Hermione was surprised to find that the books had changed. Instead of the rather broad topic of "Light magic", now the room was filled wall to wall with books on phoenixes.

"Thank you," said Hermione. Her phoenix trilled.

Hours of research later, Hermione felt that she knew everything she could possibly want to about phoenixes, the most important of which were eating habits. Phoenixes evidently did not kill even to eat, and lived on dew. Judging from her own phoenix's lack of grumpiness, they didn't get hungry very often.

"Well," she told her phoenix, "I guess all I need to do is take you outside in the morning. You think?"

That night, settled once more in Aberforth's pub, a name occurred to Hermione. "Echo," she called quietly, and the phoenix's head popped up. "So mote it be."

*|II8II|*

The first morning of Christmas break came with a small struggle between Hermione and her new companion. Echo had spent the night curled up on the pillow by Hermione's head, and was reluctant to be left behind when Hermione went downstairs to get back to work at the bar.

"I can't let the others see you," Hermione explained. "You haven't grown enough yet to defend yourself, and I don't want you to be stolen."

Echo gave an indignant squawk as Hermione tried once more to open the door.

Hermione sighed. "Please?"

The phoenix snorted.

"Oh, fine!" Hermione scooped up the creature and placed her in the hood of Hermione's jacket, hiding Echo in her voluminous hair. "Just try to be quiet, all right? I haven't told Aberforth about you yet, and I don't want to have to do that in the middle of washing dishes. Capische?"

Echo crooned and settled into the hood, evidently satisfied with those conditions.

The time-traveler smiled fondly over her shoulder at her before going downstairs to earn her keep.

"'Morning," said Aberforth. Hermione mumbled something similar and set about washing the dishes that Abe couldn't be chuffed to do. It would be a while before customers came in, so she could do as she pleased until then. Once her morning chores were finished, of course.

Hermione could not, however, leave the Hog's Head. With Echo so unwilling to be left behind, Hermione couldn't risk some ruffian deciding he wanted the pretty bird. Echo was a hatchling, and Hermione couldn't defend either of them, as her magic was so woefully nonexistent.

The pair contented themselves with staying in their room and reading, Hermione wondering if she could possibly teach Echo to decipher the letters and form them into words. Phoenixes were intelligent creatures, there was no doubting that, but were they coachable?

It was a worthy use of her afternoon, in either case. "Echo?" Hermione called softly, watching as her phoenix stretched her neck towards the witch. "Do you see these? These are called books, and they hold knowledge. These little squiggles are called letters, and they make up words. Do you want to learn?"

She didn't know what she was expecting. After all, human babies weren't taught to read until they were several years old. Echo had been born the day before. Even if phoenixes were intelligent, one simply could not expect any day-old creature to do much in the way of learning anything.

Still, Hermione was disappointed when Echo simply rubbed her head against her arm, showing no signs of even comprehending her words.

Hermione fell back down the well of thought, open tome forgotten.

Had she ever loved anything so quickly and unconditionally as she loved Echo? She hardly thought so. Crookshanks had been an immediate infatuation, but certainly not love. That had grown with time. Harry and Ron were definitely a very long process. If she had a younger sibling or a child, Hermione supposed that the feeling would be quite similar.

Casting a quick Tempus, Hermione realized that it was time to head back to work. She replaced Echo in her hood without any prompting, and the phoenix gave a low, satisfied trill. It seemed Hermione was trainable after all.

"Stay quiet back there, all right?" Hermione reminded Echo.

Hermione was greeted with the grins of some of her early regulars. She'd forgotten how much she liked it here.

The night went well, perhaps louder than she remembered, but overall pretty great. They made a good profit, with Hermione even being tipped. She was in a better mood than she'd been in since going to Hogwarts.

That is, until Sirius Black stepped in.

He made a beeline for the counter as soon as he spotted Hermione. "What are you doing here?" he asked stupidly, eyes skating down her figure as if to make sure it was really her.

"Just washing glasses for kicks," Hermione shot back. "What did you think? I work here." And live here, but that's beside the point.

Aberforth appeared to her left. "What can I get you?" he asked curtly. Hermione flashed him a smile.

Sirius considered for a moment before replying, "Just a butterbeer, thanks."

Hermione turned abruptly and took a bottle from the shelf, popping out the cork and pouring some into a glass. She set the beverage in front of her irritating classmate without a word.

"Hey, thanks," he said, as if it were a favor she'd done him.

"Mm," replied she. Hermione realized that she was probably being a git, but it felt good. She didn't even know why she was so aggravated with him, or why her mood had completely flipped as soon as Sirius had walked in.

Echo's feet scrabbled slightly at the back of her neck, and Hermione jumped. They were both getting agitated, and the last thing she wanted to do was expose Echo so soon.

"What's wrong?" asked Sirius, noticing her brief expression of panic.

"Nothing," said Hermione with a bright smile. "Just forgot something."

Sirius continued to stare at her suspiciously until Hermione resumed wiping the glasses. Then, taking a few large swallows of his butterbeer, he said, "What's that in your hood?"

Hermione froze, looking at him sharply. "Nothing. What would possibly be in my hood?" She winced internally as soon as the words left her lips. Engaging Sirius's curiosity was exactly the wrong thing to do.

He, predictably, reached over the counter and tried to catch the back of her jacket. Hermione leaped backwards, knowing at the same time that there was very little that could get her out of this situation without causing a scene.

"No, let me see," Sirius said, eyebrow furrowed. "There's something in there."

"You know what? Why don't I just go check in the the loo?" she said, already moving away from him.

Once safely locked inside the loo, Hermione set Echo on the edge of the sink. "That's why I didn't want to take you," she groused, crossing her arms at the phoenix. "I guess there was no way of knowing that Sirius would show up, though. And it's entirely my fault, anyway, so don't listen to me." Hermione bit her lip. "How are we supposed to sneak back up to our room?"

Echo responded with an unhelpful chirp.

Hermione sighed, squatting on her heels and leaning against the wall, prepared to think. "He's wondering why I'm taking so long," she predicted. "Should I just hide you somewhere else? I don't see a way I could sneak past everyone and go to our room, and I don't want Sirius to know I live here. He would... I don't know, do something very Sirius-y. I'd like to avoid that if at all possible."

The hatchling phoenix tilted its head, looking her in the eye.

"That's the best solution, then," Hermione decided. She spent several moments searching her clothing for possible hiding places before finding pockets on the inside of her jacket. "Is this all right? It'll be hot in there."

Echo didn't seem to care one way or the other, so Hermione transferred her to the pocket immediately, not wanting to spend too long away from the bar.

"What did you find?" asked Sirius as soon as she was back behind the counter.

"Nothing, like I said," Hermione said nonchalantly, passing a bottle of firewhiskey to another patron. The woman returned her friendly smile with a strained look in her eyes before popping the top off and chugging straight from the bottle. The woman swayed slightly, and Hermione slid to her side and guided her to a stool. "You all right?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

The woman put her head down on her arms, firewhiskey forgotten. Hermione smoothly pushed the bottle further back from the edge so that it would be less likely to fall to the ground and shatter.

Hermione stood there for a moment, rubbing the woman's back in soothing circles. She'd worked at the Hog's Head long enough to know when someone had had a horrid day.

Sirius clinked his glass slightly against the tabletop, reminding Hermione of his presence. "Wait," she mouthed. Then, to the woman she said, "Hey, do you want to talk about it?" She noticed out of the corner of her eye Sirius finishing his drink and then leaving, tossing a few galleons onto the counter.

She loved working here, she thought, listening to the woman's life story. If only her classmates would just go somewhere else.

#tybt #harry potter fanfiction #multi-chapter

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