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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

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Ask the Stars [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Requested: Yes l No

A/N: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and finally decided to write it and it flowed liked nobodies business! I LOVED writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it. Special thanks to the angel @dreatine who gave me the title for this fic and showing me the beautiful song the title is from (lyrics for which can be found throughout). Set pre-BAU.

CW: swearing, drinking, mutual pining, friends to lovers, age gap between consenting adults, virgin! Spencer, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, groping. I think that’s everything!

Plot: growing up together, best friends Spencer and the reader have always been secretly in love with one another. But a night together under the stars might be too little too late and with Spencer moving to DC and you to Idaho, that one night may be all you ever get.

WC: 12.2K

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Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2003

Spencer didn’t think he would have made it through the last ten years of his life and been where he was now if it hadn't been for the family next door.

He was just twelve years old when they’d moved in, struggling to cope with high school bullies and his mom's schizophrenia all on his own.

They would help out with his mom in any way they could, they had him round for dinner when it was too tough for him to go home and they took him along on their annual camping trips every year.

They had been there for him when he’d had to have his mom committed when he was eighteen. They were kind, friendly people. They treated Spencer like their own son.

He liked to pretend when he was with them that they were his family. He liked to play pretend, that he had a loving father and a mom who wasn’t sick.

He lived in a fantasy world whenever he was with them.

But Spencer’s favourite part about the family next door by far, was their daughter, Y/N.

You were four years Spencer’s junior, just an adorable eight year old when you’d moved in next door to the young genius and his mother. The two of you had grown up together and somewhere along the way attraction and feelings developed.

Of course neither one of you had ever said as much. You were best friends, you didn’t want to risk destroying that by confessing your feelings for him.

And besides, at the end of the summer the two of you were going your separate ways; you were off to college in Idaho and Spencer was moving to DC for his illustrious new job at the FBI.

This was the last chance the two of you had to spend time together before everything inevitably changed. So maybe going on a camping trip with your parents at eighteen was a little lame. But there was one reason and one reason alone you were going on the trip.

Spencer Reid.

***

Just as you were lugging the last of your bags out of the front door, you heard the front gate creak open.

Your eyes shot up and landed instantly on his as he slipped through the gate.

You immediately dropped the bag on the floor and were dashing down the front steps and down the path.

“Spence!” You squealed, running at him at speed.

He caught you in his arms and the two of you almost went tumbling back to the concrete but he managed to steady you both.

“Whoa Y/N,” he laughed, wrapping you tightly in his arms. “I missed you too.”

You clung to your best friend, breathing in his scent. He’d only been gone two months finishing up his third PhD, but it felt like forever.

The last few years Spencer’s studies had taken him away from Vegas much more than you would have both liked. He’d missed the last two family camping trips and they had been so dull without him.

You were so happy to have him back for one last trip.

“It’s so good to see you.” You smiled, pulling back from the hug to get a proper look at him. Of course over the years you’d memorised every sculpted curve of his face, those sharp cheekbones, deep set eyes and sinfully plump lips but you would never tire of looking at him.

“Y/N, Spencer, it’s time to go!” Your mom hollered from the street, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Give me a hand with my bag?”

“Of course.” He smiled, following up the path to the house.

You felt lighter when Spencer was around, like all of your worries and fears just melted away.

You had no idea how you would cope with him in DC while you were in Idaho. But that was a problem for another day.

For now you were just revelling in Spencer’s presence.

***

Admittedly camping with your parents was never a terrible experience. Your dad was the outdoorsy type, your mom was not. So they compromised.

Yes you were in the woods but your mom would not allow sleeping in rustic tents. Every year she booked up the most glamorous of tents for your stays. Wood flooring, real beds, even nightstands and lamps.

So technically you were sleeping in a tent, but it was just as comfortable, if not more so than your bedroom at home. The site was equipped with showers and real toilets. It wasn’t really like camping at all.

“Oh Spencer sweetie,” your mom called to him as you were unpacking the car several hours of driving later.

“Yes?” He looked up at her with a smile.

“Did Y/N tell you, we weren’t able to book three pods this year, I must have called late. I hope it’s ok for the two of you to share?”

Wow. Your mom was a better liar than you pegged her to be.

Even your dad seemed to fall for it.

When she’d told you a few days ago, you’d seen right through it.

You knew your mom had known for a long time of your crush on your genius neighbour. She’d probably known before even you did.

So you didn’t question it when she’d told you she’d only been able to book two camping pods, but you were sure your blush gave away exactly what you thought about it.

“Uhm yeah I guess that’s fine.” He shrugged and was that a blush you saw spreading to his cheeks? “I’ve got my sleeping bag, I can just sleep on the floor.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought but his response seemed to appease your father.

Once Spencer went back to emptying the bags from the car your mom gave you a look and a small smirk.

You tried not to blush. Your mom had always been pretty cool for a mom and you had never been more grateful for that until right now.

You finished unpacking the car and took your stuff to your allocated tent to change before heading down to the lake.

Spencer took some clothes to the toilets to change and you spent longer than was necessary picking out the perfect bathing suit.

The last time Spencer had seen you in a bathing suit was two years ago and boy had your body changed in two years. You couldn’t wait to show it off to him.

You just hoped he liked what he saw.

***

Thankfully Spencer had already dived into the water before you took off your summer dress and unsheathed the glorious body you were hiding underneath the fabric.

The water made for a great way to hide the erection that almost immediately grew when he saw you in that bathing suit.

He tried not to look at you, mostly because your parents were there and he was sure they wouldn’t be happy with him gawking over their daughter.

But he was in essence, a cold blooded male. He’d had a crush on you for about as long as he could remember, you’d grown up together, surely it was only inevitable?

But you were his best friend. You were the only real friend he’d ever had. And he didn’t want to ruin that by sexualising you. But god that would be so much easier to do if you weren’t so damn hot.

When had you stopped being the adorable girl next door who used to play with her pony toys in the front yard? When did you become this drop dead gorgeous woman standing before him in a scantily clad bathing suit?

You had changed since the last time he’d seen you in so little clothes. You’d developed curves in what Spencer thought was all the right places.

You looked up and your eyes met his and you gave him a bright smile that made him feel a little weak. You walked to the edge of the lake and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

You walked with poise, a sense of a confidence Spencer could never muster. He watched as you dove into the water so gracefully, and re-emerge a few feet in front of him.

You pushed your wet hair off your face and waded closer to him, wiping the water from your eyes.

Spencer felt a lump forming in his throat the closer you got. His eyes betrayed him and they fell to your chest, the water droplets rolling over your skin shimmered in the sun.

How I want to lick those beads of water off your skin.

“You ok?” You laughed, coming to a stop in front of him.

“M-me? Y-yes why wouldn’t I b-be.” He stuttered at the close proximity he now found himself in to you. He could reach out and touch you. He could reach out and kiss you.

He did neither.

“Come here,” he raised your hands out of the water. “Your hair is going to get in your eyes.”

You gently stroked a strand of Spencer’s wet hair out of his face and it sent a shiver racing up his spine.

His cock was aching. He’d never been touched by a woman in such a way. He’d never been touched by a woman in any way and honestly it felt like he could blow his load just from you stroking back his hair.

“Much better.” You smiled at him, leaving him feeling a little downtrodden when you withdrew your hand.

“Uh thanks.” He croaked, feeling light headed.

“You’re welcome.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other, eyes locked as though communicating subconsciously.

Spencer wanted to grab hold of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to pull you close and feel your body pressed up against his own, run his fingers over your every curve.

He wanted his hands to get lost in your hair. He wanted to bury himself between your thighs. He wanted to feel you, to taste you.

Honestly you were thinking the same, he just didn’t know it. His white t-shirt cling to his skin now soaked in water and you could just make out the soft skin of his chest underneath. You wanted to run your hands over that skin, through his hair, over every part of his body.

You wanted to feel him inside of you, his fingers, his cock, anything. You wanted to stare deep into his eyes while he made you come.

All of a sudden Spencer snapped out of his trance before he did something to make a fool of himself.

“I’ll race you to the next dock!” He dove beneath the surface before you had time to register his words.

You watched him go, splashing a lot as he swam, gangly limbs flailing.

It took you a few seconds to pick your mind up out of the gutter and start swimming after him.

Being the much more adept swimmer, despite Spencer’s head start you managed to beat him to the next dock.

He was much more out of breath than you when he arrived.

“How did you get into the FBI again?” You laughed as he gripped hold of the dock for dear life.

“They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field.” He panted.

“Clearly.” You teased. “Ohh and look, we’re right by the jet ski hire!” You pulled yourself up on the dock and sat on the edge looking down at Spencer.

“You know I hate those things. Did you know there are around seven hundred jet ski related accidents every year which results in approximately forty deaths? I don’t like those odds, I’ll wait on the dock.”

He tried and failed to get out of the water and in the end you had to help hoist him up.

“No way, you're coming with me.” You stood up and pulled him to his feet as well.

“I most certainly am not.” He made the mistake of looking into your eyes. Those beautiful expressive eyes that could probably make him commit murder.

“Please?” You asked softly and he was like putty in your hands.

“F-fine.” He grumbled.

“Yay!” You squealed a little, throwing yourself into his arms.

Your body pressed up against his and he tentatively wrapped his arms around you.

Your wet bathing suit and his wet t-shirt clung to each other and he could feel your every curve.

Thankfully you pulled away before he got too excited. You took hold of his hand now and started leading him towards the hire booth.

Honestly he’d let you lead him anywhere.

***

Spencer was still shaking almost ten minutes after pulling up in the small alcove a way up the lake and dismounting the jet ski.

He’d enjoyed the close proximity with you it had involved but it didn’t make up for the sheer terror of your haphazard driving.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You laughed staring down at him as he laid on the grass.

“All I’ll say is, if you drove a car like that I would never let you drive me anywhere.”

“It’s a jet ski Einstein, they are supposed to go fast.” You nudged his ribs with your toe. “Get up, we need to head back.”

“I would literally rather swim back.” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his ribs again.

“It’s probably almost a mile back, don’t be so dramatic.” You leant over him and took hold of his hands, pulling him into a sitting position. “How about you drive? That way we can go at a granny pace.”

“Funny.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “But I will drive actually. I’d rather not die of a heart attack on this lake.”

You slid the rubber band over your hand that the key dangled from and tossed it at Spencer.

He flapped about trying to catch it and just managed to stop it falling to the floor.

You got in your positions on the jet ski. You wrapped yourself tighter around him than was necessary, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his stomach.

Spencer shuddered but he hoped you would think it was due to the wind.

It could have been the wind but the timing seemed a little too convenient. Did your touch really have that effect on him? He’d never given you any indication that he liked you in that way, but could it be possible? Maybe you would have to test that out.

Spencer took a tentative breath and started the jet ski’s engine. You tightened your hold on him as it started moving.

Spencer was slow to start with just like you had assumed he would be. It was quite nice actually. You had a chance to revel in the way the water felt as it splashed onto your bare legs, the way the wind felt in your hair.

But mostly you were wrapped up in the way it felt to be this close to Spencer.

You pressed your chest into your back, making sure he could feel your breasts on him. You started by gently moving your fingers over the fabric of his t-shirt, round in little circles on his stomach.

As he picked up the speed a little you dared to let your fingers drop a little lower, over his hip bones. You felt him tense a little but due to the sound of the jet ski you didn’t hear the way his breath hitched at your touch.

You moved your hands again, your fingers gently grazing the waistband of his swim shorts.

Spencer practically jumped at your touch so near his crotch and he inadvertently swerved sharply, so sharply that it sent the two of you flying off the seat and crashing into the water.

The engine cut off when the key attached around Spencer’s wrist was yanked out with him.

You both broke the surface, spluttering a little.

“What the hell Spencer?” you pushed your hair back off your face. “Why did you do that?”

Because you have no idea how long I have wanted you to touch me like that.

“You uh...your...I don’t know. I just lost control I guess.” he didn’t want to tell you that your touch had sent him into a tailspin and he had completely lost his focus.

But you had a pretty good idea that was what had happened. And if that was the case, why? Why had your touch affected him in that way? Surely he did not feel for you the way you felt about him?

It couldn’t be possible. But it surely did seem that way.

“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” you told him, rather than pushing him. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

But you might have to test this more, maybe on stable ground.

You both climbed back up onto the jet ski, Spencer slightly less gracefully than you, and he handed you over the key.

You made it back to the jet ski hire with no further incident and Spencer was happy to be back on dry land. Although he did miss the closeness the jet ski brought.

“I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back ok?” Spencer told you while you returned your life vests.

“Sure, I’ll be here.” you gave him a soft smile.

He couldn’t help but give your body a once over again, it was accidental, he couldn’t stop himself. The feeling of your fingers on his waistband and your chest pressed up against his back were imprinted in his mind and by the time he reached the bathroom he was hard again.

Making sure there was no one else in the bathroom he shut himself in one of the cubicles. He leant against the closed door and exhaled a shaky breath.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had touched himself while thinking of you but this seemed dirty. This wasn’t the comfort of his own bedroom where no one would catch him.

But he knew he needed to take care of this otherwise it would plague him all day.

With another shaky breath he relieved himself from his swim shorts. He closed his eyes, taking his length in his hand and started stroking himself. He bit his lip hard to stem his moans as he pictured you in that sinful bathing suit.

He imagined your fingers moving from his waistband inside his pants and tried to imagine it was your fingers wrapped around him.

He was panting and mumbling your name in no time and it didn’t take long at all for him to come.

He cleaned himself up as well as the tiled floor he had dirtied before using the facilities and heading back outside.

God he hoped you wouldn’t see his deed written all over his face, he would be mortified.

But by the looks of it, you were too busy to notice anything.

The guy putting the moves on you was shorter than Spencer but much more broad and muscular. He had sun kissed skin and beach blonde hair. He had a charming smile and it was clearly working its magic on you.

Spencer approached slowly, you didn’t seem to notice. As he reached your side the man looked over at him with a frown.

“Can we help you?” he asked Spencer.

“Spence, hi.” you smiled at him before turning all your attention back on the other man. “Greg, this is my best friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Greg.”

Best friend, of course, because that’s how you saw him. Friends. Only ever friends.

You hadn’t had any intention of talking to someone while Spencer was gone but when Greg had approached you, you engaged in friendly conversation.

He was attractive, sure, but in your eyes he had nothing on Spencer.

But there was something in Spencer’s eyes that looked a lot like jealousy. Maybe you could use Greg to your advantage?

“Greg invited us to a party at the lake tonight.” you spoke when neither man said anything.

“I actually invited you to a party.” Greg corrected you.

“Oh.” Spencer squeaked a little.

“I’m only coming if Spencer does.” You told Greg with a seductive smile.

Greg smiled at you and stepped a little closer.

“How can I say no to a face like yours.” He ran his finger over your cheek and Spencer wanted to smack him. “I’ll see you tonight babe.” He winked at you before sauntering away.

“He seems like a complete jackass.” Spencer grumbled once Greg was out of ear shot.

“You didn’t even speak to him.” You frowned at your friend.

“Neither did you, not really. I was only gone five minutes. I don’t think we should go to that party.”

“And why not?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Because we don’t know him. He could be some creep for all we know.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.” You stepped closer to Spencer making him swallow. “Are you jealous Spencer?”

“W-what?” He croaked. “Jealous? W-why would I be j-jealous?”

It was written all over his face. He was jealous.

“I don’t know Spence, you tell me.” You stepped even closer to him now, so close he could feel your breath on his face.

You let your hands drop to your side.

“Do you want me for yourself Spencer? Because you know all you’d have to do is ask.”

Good god, what are you doing to me?

Of course he wanted you all to himself, it’s all he’d ever wanted. But that didn’t change the fact you were his best friend and you were moving to different states.

Telling you he wanted you was completely pointless.

“Of course not.” He tried to scoff, forcing himself to step back away from you. “If you want Greg that’s fine by me.”

“Fine.” You spat.

“Fine.” Spencer mirrored.

And with that you turned on your heels and stormed away.

Maybe you’d been wrong after all. Of course Spencer didn’t like you. What a stupid thought that had been.

***

That night your dad allowed you and a very reluctant Spencer to use his car to head back to the lake and meet Greg and his friends.

You and Spencer hadn’t said much of anything to each other since that afternoon but if your parents had noticed they didn’t say anything.

You felt foolish for thinking he could have possibly been jealous. Of course there was no way the brilliant Spencer Reid looked at you that way. There was no way he would deem you smart enough or interesting enough.

It had clearly all been in your head. Or so you thought.

But of course it hadn’t.

Spencer had wanted to scream at you that of course he was jealous and of course he wanted you all to himself, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. There was no way he was confessing his feelings for you. He’d done a good job of keeping them hidden up until now and he certainly wasn’t going to let Greg be the reason he told you.

He would take his feelings for you to the grave. It was easier that way. It was easier than ruining your friendship.

You drove to the lake in stifled silence. Normally small talk wasn’t an issue for the two of you, you could talk about anything and everything for hours on end. But for the first time, neither of you had anything to say to one another.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive to the lake and you pulled up soon enough and exited the car as soon as you shut off the engine.

Spencer sighed loudly once alone in the car. This was the last time the two of you would be together in god knows how long and you were in a fight already on the first day of the trip.

He didn’t think the two of you had ever fought, not properly anyway. Was this a fight? Spencer wasn’t even sure. He hoped not. He spent a few minutes alone in the car just collecting himself.

He got out of the car and followed in your footsteps. You were already down by a bonfire near the lake edge with none other than Greg. Greg had his arm around your shoulders as he handed you a bottle of beer which you took with a smile.

Spencer took a deep breath before heading towards you. He really didn’t want to be a third wheel with the two of you but he also didn’t have the kind of confidence it took to go and talk to new people.

Third wheel it is.

“Hi,” you barely acknowledged him as he joined you and Greg and if Spencer wasn’t mistaken you moved your body closer to Greg.

He gave you a half-smile and nodded in Greg’s direction.

“Can I get you a beer?” Greg asked him.

“No thanks. One of us is going to have to drive back and looks like that’s going to be me.” Spencer shrugged, trying not to sound annoyed but he clearly did because he saw you roll your eyes.

“Want to take a walk Greg?” you smiled at the other man who gave your shoulders a squeeze as he eyed you up and down.

“I would love that.” he chuckled and before Spencer knew it he was leading you away from him.

It had been all of two minutes and you had already abandoned him. Great.

He turned away from the lake and started back up towards the car assuming he would just wait for you there while you were off doing god knows what with Greg.

He made his way towards the car but didn’t get very far before someone ran into him, knocking him to the floor.

“Ow.” he groaned as he hit the ground, someone landing roughly on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!” she pushed herself off of him, standing up before holding out a hand to help him.

Spencer took it and allowed the stranger to pull him to his feet.

“I was chasing after a frisbee and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you ok?” she was smiling sweetly at him and Spencer couldn’t help but think it was a very pretty smile.

Maybe not as pretty as yours but pretty in its own right.

“It’s ok.” he told her, shaking it off. “These things happen. I’m uh...I’m Spencer.”

She smiled again and nodded.

“Rose.” she replied. “Would you care to join me for a drink Spencer?”

“You know what?” Spencer smiled. “I don’t mind if I do.”

***

You and Greg had walked further up the lake and found a spot near the water's edge to sit. It didn’t take long before his lips were on yours and his fingers were in your hair.

It was...nice. It was nothing special but it was ok. And you couldn’t help but wish it was Spencer’s lips pressed against your own.

When Greg’s hands moved from your hair down to your breasts, palming them through your top a little roughly, you pushed him back.

“Nuh uh.” you shook your head frowning at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on babe, we’re just having a little fun.”

“We can have fun without you groping me.” you picked up your beer bottle and swigged from it.

“I didn’t peg you as a prude Y/N.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Because I’m not. I prefer the term selective.” you scoffed.

He didn’t take your reluctance as a no however and he moved in again, his lips latching on to your neck and his hand finding your thigh.

He moved his hand higher up your bare leg, over your denim shorts and soon his fingers were toying with the button.

Once again you pushed him, harder than before.

“Hey asshole.” you spat. “I said no.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his own beer, downing the contents and then tossing it away.

“You’re a drag.” he groaned. “Is this because of that pipe cleaner friend of yours?”

“No.” you pushed yourself up from the ground, grabbing your beer. “This has nothing to do with Spencer. I just don’t like pushy men who think they’re god's gift to women.”

You turned away from him and started back towards the bonfire you could see burning brightly in the distance.

“Girls like you are a dime a dozen.” he called after you.

You flipped him the bird over your shoulder but you didn’t turn back to look at him.

“Asshole.” you muttered to yourself.

You should have listened to Spencer, he’d always been a good judge of character. Maybe you’d have to apologise to him.

You made your way back to the bonfire to find him and make up but you didn’t have to look far.

He was sitting on one of the logs next to the fire but he wasn’t alone.

He had a petite redhead sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. And her lips were hungrily exploring his.

“Oh god.” you felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest, like all the air had been forced from your lungs.

You lost your grip on the beer bottle and it fell to the ground.

His hands were gently on her hips, holding her place while he explored her mouth.

Your tears came out of nowhere, alarming you as they started heavily cascading down your cheeks.

Just as a sob wracked your body, you took off running up the bank and towards the car.

You couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing Spencer kiss that girl made your heart feel like it was shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

You got back in the car and sobbed. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer and that girl, locking lips.

And all you could think was, it should be me.

***

“Sorry if that was really forward of me.” Rose blushed a little when the kiss ended.

Spencer was blushing too, but he had been since their lips first touched.

“I-it’s o-ok.” he stuttered, completely baffled by what had just happened. “I-it was n-nice.”

“I hope it was a little more than nice.” Rose giggled.

But it wasn’t. It was simply nice. It was a nice kiss but it wasn’t with you. He’d kissed girls before but it never felt quite right. And he knew it was because he wasn’t kissing you.

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t find the right words to say.

Rose’s face fell a little and she slid off Spencer’s lap onto the log next to him.

“I know that look.” she chewed her lip. “That’s the look of a guy who is thinking about someone else.”

He wanted to argue with her but it seemed pointless.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged pathetically. “You’re beautiful and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t thinking about someone else. But I am. I always am.”

“It’s ok.” She placed her hand gently on his knee. “It was nice to meet you Spencer.” She pushed herself up from the log.

“You too Rose.” He stood too, needing to find you before you did anything stupid with Greg.

Just as he had this thought, Greg came wandering towards the bonfire alone.

“Where’s Y/N?” Spencer rushed over to him.

“How should I know?” Greg scoffed. “That girl is a cock tease. Not worth my time.”

“Don’t say that.” Spencer practically whined, making Greg chuckle.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Greg snarled at him.

“I uh...I need to find Y/N.” He changed the subject. He did not want to get into a fight because he would most certainly lose.

“Whatever.” Greg scoffed, turning away from Spencer.

Spencer scanned the crowds but couldn’t see you, he knew he’d be able to pick you out of any crowd.

He practically sprinted back to the car, hoping to find you there and as luck would have it, there you were in the driver's seat.

But even in the dark he could see that you were crying.

He ran to the passenger door and flung it open.

“Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong?” He threw his arms around you, pulling you closer over the console.

“Get off me.” You pushed him away, sniffing back your tears.

“What’s wrong? What did Greg do?” He asked clearly not noticing your hostility towards him.

You sighed, not wanting to tell your best friend you were crying over seeing him kiss another girl, you shook your head, fixing your seatbelt in place.

“Nothing. I just want to forget all about tonight.” You started the engine.

“O-ok.” Spencer chewed his lip.

Neither of you spoke again on the drive back to the campsite or once you were back in your pod.

You slipped into the bed and Spencer in his sleeping bag on the floor.

Neither of you got much sleep that night, you both had too much on your mind. Namely, being in love with your best friends who were seemingly oblivious.

***

The next morning when you awoke you decided today was a new day. You weren’t going to allow yourself to spend the whole trip being mad at Spencer.

You’d never seen him with a girl before, it had been a shock. But he was twenty two, he must have had girlfriends before you guess he’d just chosen not to tell you. And it wasn’t as though you’d never been with a man.

You resided yourself to the fact that you and Spencer were destined to be friends and that was ok. At least it would be ok. It had to be.

You knelt down on the floor next to his sleeping bag and watched him for a second. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even. His plump lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was draped over the pillow. His eyelashes grazed the skins under his eyes.

Maybe it would be a little harder than you thought to just see him as a friend.

Suddenly his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.

He frowned a little, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Uh...good morning.” He croaked, voice riddled with sleep. “Were you staring at me while I slept?”

“No.” You scoffed, standing back up. “I was just wondering if I could free your hand and put it in a glass of water, see if that peeing thing really works.” You started rummaging through one of your bags to hide your blush from Spencer.

“Mature.” He laughed a little as he sat up. “Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

You took a few deep breaths and turned back to him with a large, fake smile on your lips.

“I’m great.” You beamed. “Now get up sleepy head, we’re going for a hike!”

And with that you took your clothes and stepped over him, undoing the front of the tent pod and disappearing.

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

He wished falling out of love with you was as easy as it had been falling in love with you.

Not being in love with his best friend would make his life so much easier. But life never was good to Spencer.

***

Spencer loved your family but you were all much more athletic than he could ever hope to be. After a five mile hike, Spencer was exhausted. Sweat made his shirt cling to his body and his hair stick to his forehead.

When your mom had suggested stopping for the picnic she had packed, he was more than happy to oblige.

He practically fell to the grass on his back, panting and sweating.

“If it wasn’t for that huge brain of yours there is no way you would have gotten into the FBI.” you laughed as you flopped down next to him.

“Be nice Y/N.” your mom scalded you to which you rolled your eyes.

Your mom set some food while your dad poured glasses of soda for you all. You spent an hour sitting in the sunshine eating while Spencer worked on getting his breath back.

They still had a five mile walk back.

Spencer found himself stealing glances at you as you ate, like he usually did. He never grew tired of watching you.

You were wearing cargo pants and a vest top. His eyes caressed the side of your neck and the curve of your shoulder and your collarbone. Your skin glistened a little from the heat.

His eyes grazed up to the side of your face and the stray strand of hair that fell onto your face. He wanted to lean in and tuck behind your ear but that seemed too intimate.

He must have been watching you for a long time because when he resurfaced from his thoughts your mom was packing up what was left of the picnic.

“Spence and I will make our way back.” You stood up and brushed down the back of your cargo pants.

“Don’t get lost.” You dad shot you a sarcastic look.

“We’ll be fine. Come on Spence.” You encouraged to which he stood too.

“See you later.” He waved at your parents before following where you had already started walking.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” He asked once he caught up with you.

“No idea.” You shrugged.

“Oh good, just what I want. To get lost in the woods with you.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah I’m sure you’d much rather get lost in the woods with that redhead from last night, right?” The bitterness was seeping from your words.

Spencer stopped in his tracks.

“Uh...what redhead?” He tried to lie, he didn’t know what you’d seen so he didn’t want to give away too much.

“Don’t play dumb Spencer.” You stopped too so you could look at him. “The one who was cosied up on your lap, eating your face.”

“Oh. That redhead.” He chewed his lip. “I uh...didn’t realise you saw that.”

“Well I did.” You shrugged. “Looked like you were having fun.”

“It w-was...she was nice I guess.”

“Good.” You spat a little more harshly than you’d meant to.

Spencer frowned, stepping closer to you, leaves crunching under foot.

“Are you annoyed?”

“What? No. Why would I be annoyed?” You scoffed, giving him your best eye roll.

“You seem annoyed.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Good. Because you wouldn’t have any right to be.” It was like he was poking a bear with a stick. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“And why wouldn’t I?” It was working, you were rising to it.

“Because you left me alone while you went off to do god knows what with Greg. I had to pass the time somehow.”

“By sticking your tongue down some random girl's throat?”

“I’m sure you were doing much more with him.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You growled, stepping closer to him now.

“You know exactly what that means.” He stepped closer to you too, as though you were challenging each other.

“You really think I was off fucking him?” You raised your voice. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Weren’t you?” He shrugged.

“I most certainly was not! He tried to get fresh with me and I pushed him away. He was a jackass! And then I come back to find you making out with that girl!”

“So you are annoyed about that?”

“Yes, happy? Yes I am annoyed about that.” You yelled.

Spencer closed the space between you but you stepped backwards away from him. He backed you into a tree where you collided with the bark.

He put his hands either side of your head pinning you in place.

Where had this side of him come from?

“Why are you annoyed Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.” You tried to insist but you knew he could see right through you.

“Tell me. Tell me why you’re annoyed with me for Christ sakes Y/N! What did I do that was so wrong? I was just having some fun.”

“Without me.” You pouted.

“I can’t have fun without you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, very conscious of how close Spencer was to you.

“So what is it then? Tell me.”

“I don’t like seeing you with another girl ok?” You raised your voice again.

“But I have to see you with another man?”

“I offered myself to you Spencer. I said all you had to do was ask. You said no. What was I supposed to think?”

“Y-you…you meant that?” His facade faltered and his hands fell to his sides.

“Of course I did.” You spat.

“You...you…” he swallowed.

“It should have been me you were kissing. Asshole.” You mumbled pathetically.

Spencer didn’t know what came over him at that moment but he couldn’t hold back.

He took your face in his hands and pushed you back against the tree trunk before pressing his lips to yours.

For a moment you kissed him back but then your anger returned and suddenly you were pushing him away.

“Stop it!” You yelled. “It’s too little too late Spencer. I don’t want to be your second choice. I don’t want you after she’s had you.”

“S-second choice? Y/N you could never be my-“

“Save it.” You pushed passed him and started walking again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to get back before it starts getting dark.”

You didn’t know what had come over you. All you’d ever wanted was to feel Spencer’s lips on yours. But when he kissed you, all you could think of was that redhead from last night.

And it broke your heart all over again.

***

“Spence?” You whispered into the dark. “Spence are you awake?”

It had been a long, awkward walk back followed by a long, awkward evening back at the campsite with your parents.

You and Spencer had said barely two words to each other before you called for an early night and crawled into your bed.

“Yeah I’m awake.” He whispered in reply from the floor.

“I’m...I’m really cold.” You felt foolish but you were freezing, you couldn’t seem to warm up.

And the only thing you could think that would help would be Spencer’s warm body next to you.

You heard him sigh followed by some rustling. Then you saw his silhouette beside the bed.

“You want me to warm you up?” He asked softly.

“If it’s not...too much to ask.” You didn’t deserve him being kind to you but that was the thing about Spencer, he was always there when you needed him. No matter what.

He sighed again before lifting the covers and sliding into the bed.

“Come here.” He held his arm open for you and you slid closer to him, his arm wrapping around your waist and you rested your head on his chest.

As suspected, he was radiating warmth. You snuggled into him sighing in content. He ran his fingers up and down your side.

“I’m sorry about earlier Y/N.” he spoke into your hair.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not like that. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

You shifted a little so you could look up at him.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Spence. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I just...I don’t like the way I felt seeing you with that girl.”

“It didn’t feel great for me seeing you with Greg either.” he cupped your face with his free hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Spence.” a tear escaped your eye. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to do anything to change that. But I can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt to see you with another girl. And I suppose that means I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. But I can’t lose my best friend Spence.” a few more tears fell and Spencer tried to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I know Y/N, me too.” He agreed, chewing his lip.

You settled back into his chest and he tightened his hold on you. If this was as close as he could have you then he was going to soak in every moment.

Eventually you both fell asleep, into peaceful slumbers brought on by being wrapped in each other’s embraces.

***

For the rest of the week you and Spencer avoided unnecessary touches and glances each other’s way.

You tried to act normal. You tried to act like you hadn’t kissed and spent the night in each other’s arms.

You knew your parents suspected something was amiss with the two of you, you weren’t quite as pally as you usually were but neither of them said anything.

You spent days at the lake, you went for hikes and sat around the campfire in the evenings as the sunset around you.

On your final night your parents retired to their pod but you remained sitting on one of the logs, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“Are you coming to bed?” Spencer asked you softly.

“Not yet, I might watch the stars for a while.”

“Want company?” He smiled at you and you nodded.

He laid his own blanket out of the ground and motioned for you to come over.

You laid side by side on your backs and you draped your blanket over the top of you both as you stared up at the sky.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving for DC when we get back.” You sniffed back any tears that might fall. “I have to spend the rest of the summer at home without you.”

“You’ll be off to college in a few weeks. You’ll forget all about me.”

You rolled your head to the side and he did the same so you were looking at each other.

“Spence, I could never forget you.” You reached for his hand and entwined your fingers.

He sighed in content at your touch. It was the most physical contact you’d had in almost a week.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m going to miss you too Spence.”

You laid like that under the stars, just staring into each other’s eyes for some time. There were so many things you both wanted to say but nothing seemed good enough.

Somehow you ended up closer together on the blanket, you’re not sure how it happened. You weren’t sure if you’d moved closer or if Spencer had or maybe you both had, but somehow you ended up with barely a few inches between your faces.

You could feel his soft breath on your face and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. That kiss had burned itself into your brain and you couldn’t believe you’d pushed him away before you got to really enjoy it.

“Spence,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence.

“Yes Y/N?”

“All you have to do is ask.” You repeated what you’d said to him at the lake your first day.

He knew exactly what you meant and it made his chest tighten at the mere thought.

“Y/N?” He whispered, edging even closer to you.

“Yes?”

“Can I...c-can I kiss you?” He stuttered.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t Spence.”

He let go of your hand so he could cup your cheek and slowly closed the small space between you.

This time when your lips met it was slow and soft. You revelled in the feeling of his plump, pillowy lips pressed against yours for a moment before you cautiously parted your lips.

Spencer was tentative in his movements as though you may push him away again at any moment.

But of course you didn’t. He slid his tongue in your mouth and started exploring you, slowly at first but soon an animal instinct took over.

He explored your mouth hungrily, holding your face delicately in his large hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and helped him roll on top of you.

He was hard already, you could feel it pressing against you and you knew a kiss wasn’t going to be enough.

You played with his hair, tugging it a little and he moaned into your mouth, subconsciously grinding his hips into yours.

You dared to let your hands roam his back until you reached the hem of his hoodie and slipped your hands under the fabric.

He moaned again at the feeling of your hands on the skin of his back. It spurred you on to rake your nails lightly over his flesh. You were met with another hard roll of his hips.

The kiss ended so you could both gasp for the air that had left your lungs. Spencer chewed his lip nervously, scared of what might happen next.

“Should w-we uh...do you want to go into t-the tent?” he was so unsure of himself. He didn’t want to sound as though he was being presumptive.

“No,” you whispered, but you were smiling. “I want to stay out here.”

“B-but your parents…”

“Sleep like logs.” you laughed, stroking back his hair. “Spencer, I want you to make love to me under the stars. Do you think that’s something...something you can d-do?” you suddenly felt nervous telling him what you wanted. Maybe that’s not what he wanted? Maybe it was just a kiss?

But the hiss that slipped from his lips told you it was exactly what he wanted.

“I-I...there is n-nothing in the world I want m-more.” he swallowed. “B-but I...I’ve never...done this before.” his cheeks turned crimson in an instant.

Your heart swelled. You had no idea. You assumed Spencer was just quiet about his exploits. You had no idea he’d never been with a woman before.

“Oh,” you didn’t really know what to say. “Is this...have you ever pictured, you know, what your uh...first time would be like?”

His blush deepened and he gnawed heavily on his lip.

“All the time.” he confessed. “And it’s always with you.”

“Kiss me Spence.” you smiled at him, pulling him closer again by his neck.

Your lips met again but this time it was much more frantic and desperate, now you both knew exactly where this was going.

You hooked your fingers under the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up his body. He sat back so he could pull it over his head.

“T-shirt too.” you told him with a smirk while he was sat up.

He looked a little nervous but he complied. In all the years you’d known Spencer you didn’t think you’d ever seen him shirtless before. He was always conservative, insecure about how skinny he was. But in that moment he didn’t have time to worry about his insecurities, all he wanted was you and that was all that mattered.

He discarded the items of clothing, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Your eyes raked up and down his torso and soon your fingers followed suit, running over his flesh. He hissed again, telling you he liked it.

“W-what about you?” you swallowed nervously.

“What about me?” you smirked. You knew what he meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Y-you uh...can I...your dress?” he was blushing again and it was so adorable.

“Spencer, you can do whatever you like to me.” your voice was dripping with seduction and it made his cock twitch achingly. Oh how he’d dreamed of this moment.

His hands were shaking as he reached for the bottom of your dress. He was slow to raise the fabric, making sure you weren’t going to change your mind.

He inched it up your thighs and paused when he got it to your hips. The black pair of lace panties you wore underneath made his head spin.

“Oh gosh.” he panted a little as he spoke.

You smiled, arching your back so he could continue undressing you. Inch by inch the fabric got higher and higher, revealing more of your body.

Once you had discarded the dress, Spencer sat back again to take you all in. Your panties had a matching bra, cupping your breasts magnificently.

“Do you like what you see, Spence?”

“Are you kidding?” He smiled. “You are perfection Y/N.”

You raked your nails down his chest once more and came to a stop at the waistband of his trousers. You toyed with the button a little.

“Can I?” You whispered.

He chewed his lip and nodded.

You unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them over his hips. He wriggled out of them and tossed them in a pile with the rest of the clothes.

His cock was straining at the front of his boxers, begging to be freed.

You allowed yourself to palm him through his underwear. His head fell back and he moaned deeply.

“Oh gosh.” He panted. “I’m sorry, no ones ever touched me like this before.”

You smiled to yourself, loving that no other woman had been here before. But you could also tell if you were to touch him properly, he wouldn’t last to the main event.

You moved your hand to his wrist and guided his hand between your legs instead.

You panties were soaked already.

He looked at you with large, uncertain eyes, but you nodded in encouragement.

“Please Spencer?”

He swallowed.

“What if I’m no good.” He whined a little.

“It’s ok baby,” you cooed. “You could never make me feel anything other than amazing.”

You let go of his wrist and his fingers shakily played with the lace fabric.

He took a few deep breaths before he moved the fabric aside enough so he could get to your heat.

He was so cautious with his movements, trying to ensure he was doing everything right.

He’d read books. He’d watched porn. But he’d never had the real thing.

He started slow, circling your clit with his fingertip in gentle movements. It was enough to make several moans leave your parted lips and he took that as a good sign.

You pulled him down by his neck so you could kiss him again and his confidence built a little, moving his fingers faster between your legs.

“Oh god Spence,” you mumbled into his lips. “That feels so good baby.”

Spencer felt a swell of pride that he was able to make you feel good, but he wanted more, needed more.

“Y/N,” he panted. “C-can I...can we…”

“Yes Spence. God yes.” You kissed him again and he reluctantly removed his hand from between your legs.

You arched your back and unhooked your bra.

His mouth fell open at the sight of your breasts and he moaned viscerally.

You smiled, taking hold of both of his wrists now and placing his large hands on your breasts.

“F-fuck.” He moaned feeling you beneath his hands. “Jeez Y/N.”

You laughed, now working on sliding your panties down your legs.

Spencer gave your breasts a small squeeze, tweaking your nipples a little between his fingers.

You moved your hands to his hips and cautiously slid his boxers down his hips. You couldn’t stop the small moan that left your lips as you freed his erect member.

“Fuck Spence,” you groaned eyeing him up.

He removed his hands from your breasts so he could shimmy his boxers off.

He laid back down on top of you, his cock nestling between your legs. He kissed you softly, stroking back your hair.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something before w-we...you know…”

“You can tell me anything.” you encouraged him.

“Y/N, I have been in l-love with you for as long as I can remember. I need you t-to know that. I need you to know h-how inconceivably in love with you I am.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes at his words. You pulled him close for another kiss.

“Spencer, I love you too baby.” you whispered, making him sigh in relief.

“I have waited so long to hear you say that.”

“You should have asked.” You smirked, kissing him again. “Are you ready baby?”

He nodded with a deep breath. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he kept his eyes firmly on yours he slowly pushed his way inside of you.

His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the way you felt. Honestly, he almost came as soon as your tight heat was sheathed around him.

He pushed all the way inside you, filling you up beautifully. He paused to take a few steadying breaths.

“Are you ok?” You traced your finger along his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he panted. “I just need a minute. I don’t want to uh…f-finish too soon.” He blushed.

“Take your time Spence.” You smiled lovingly at him.

He took a few more breaths and captured your lips in a kiss before he started moving slowly.

He was careful in his movements, slow and gentle as though you were made of glass.

He withdrew almost all the way, before slowly plunging back inside you.

His eyes rolled back in his head and the two of you moaned together under the starry sky.

“Jesus Y/N.” He gasped. “This f-feels so...so…”

“I know Spence,” you kissed him harder, messily exploring his mouth, your hands roaming his body and he moved in and out of you.

“I’m r-really not g-gonna…l-last long.” He spoke into your lips.

“Touch me again Spence. I want to come with you.”

He exhaled, moving his hand between your bodies and his fingers started circling your clit once more as he continued his slow thrusts.

The feeling of being inside you was otherworldly. Spencer had never dreamed in a million years it would feel this magical.

He wanted it to last forever. He never wanted this end. If he could feel one thing for the rest of his life he wanted it to be you wrapped around his dick.

He was getting closer and closer to the edge but now his fingers were working deftly on you, so you were you.

You found it hard to believe he’d never done this before because he was amazing at it. He seemed to know just what to do to bring you to your orgasm.

“I’m s-sorry Y/N…I can’t...I’m g-gonna…”

“Me too Spence.”

Hearing you moan his name was all he could take and with one last thrust, Spencer came, filling you with his load.

You came too, clenching around his spasming cock.

He fell on top of you, panting and moaning into your neck.

You wrapped him in your arms and kissed his messy hair.

“God damn Spencer,” you panted. “That was incredible.”

“R-really?” He lifted his head so he could look at you.

“Absolutely.” You held his face and kissed him gently. “I love you Spencer.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.”

“Shall we go to bed?”

“Five more minutes under the stars?” He asked to which you nodded.

He gently pulled out of you and rolled onto his back on the blanket. You curled into him, resting your head on his chest.

He wrapped one arm around you and held your hand tightly.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You sighed sleepily, looking up at the night sky.

“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N.”

***

It didn’t take long at all for you both to fall asleep like that. Thankfully you woke up before your parents and managed to sneak back into your tent before they found you.

Your dad would have a coronary if he found the two of you like that.

The drive back was long, it seemed longer than on the way. Maybe because you knew your time together was coming to an end.

Tomorrow Spencer would be leaving for DC and who knows when you would next see each other again.

At least you had your night together under the stars.

You were both exhausted when you arrived home so retired to your own homes to rest, Spencer promising to come and see you before he left the following morning.

Your night together had been magical, but the air between you was now stifled. It was what Spencer feared most. Giving into his urges had probably ruined your friendship.

And now he was leaving and didn’t have time to make it up to you.

As promised he showed up at your front door the following morning, his car already packed up.

You stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind you.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” you wrapped your arms around your body as though shielding yourself from the pain that was going to be caused.

“I know, me either. I never imagined leaving Vegas, not permanently anyway.” he shrugged sadly.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re a hot shot in the FBI, Agent Reid.” you gave him a half smile.

“You and I both know it’s Doctor Reid.” he tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sigh. “Look Y/N, I need to know. After what happened the other night…”

“Spence-”

“Where do we stand Y/N?” he cut you off. “What...what are we?”

You sighed heavily and tried to smile even though your heart was breaking.

“We’re best friends, Spence.” you shrugged. “Always.”

“Best friends.” he muttered sadly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spencer, we’re moving to different parts of the country, I’m not sure exactly what you thought that night was.”

No, neither am I.

“What was it to you?” he said instead.

“I guess...it was a perfect way to say goodbye.”

Spencer couldn’t keep his resolve any longer and his tears broke free, falling down his cheeks.

“Of course. Goodbye.” he whispered.

“Spence, please don’t cry.” you reached for him but he stepped out of your touch.

“I need to uh...g-get going. It’s a long drive to Quantico.” he rubbed the palms of his hands heavily over his eyes.

“Spence,”

“Really, I n-need to go.” he turned away from you and jogged down the front steps of your house and down the path.

“Spencer, please don’t leave like this.” you called after him, dangerously close to tears yourself.

“Goodbye Y/N.” he turned back to you when he reached the front gate. “I’ll always love you.” he sniffed but before you could say anything more, he was gone.

He ran to his car and seconds later he was inside and you were watching him pull away.

You fell to the ground on the porch and you sobbed. What else could you possibly do? You’d lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop.

All because of one stupid night under the stars.

Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

***

Quantico, Virginia - 2020

Seventeen years seem to pass almost in the blink of an eye. One day Spencer was walking into the BAU for the first time and seemingly the next he was almost forty with a lifetime of trauma behind him.

He thought about you every single day for the longest time. He wondered what you were doing with your life. Were you happy? Had you met someone and got married? Had kids?

Honestly he probably still thought about you every day of his life until he met Maeve.

Maeve was a wonderful reprieve from thoughts of you, and for the first time in almost ten years you hadn’t been the first thought on his mind when he woke in the morning.

But he’d never loved her the way he loved you. It was probably for the best that he and Maeve never got to be together properly because it would have inevitably ended when he couldn’t give her his whole heart.

No, he’d left a piece of that in Vegas years ago.

After Maeve he thought about you from time to time but not everyday like he once had. When he was incarcerated he thought about you a lot. He wondered what you think of him if you could see him sitting in that cell, becoming a man he didn’t recognise. Surely you wouldn’t recognise him either.

Then he met Max and once again he thought maybe, just maybe he would finally be able to give his heart to someone else. But his hopes were dashed. They dated for a few months but she always knew there was someone else. Someone else occupied his mind and his heart and it wasn’t fair on Max to stay with her in the hopes that one day he might be able to love her like he loved you.

You hadn’t fared much better in the love department.

You met a man in college and the two of you married at the tender age of twenty one. You knew you were over compensating. You knew this wasn’t the man you were supposed to be with. But he helped take your mind off your lost love and you were sure in time you would stop thinking about Spencer all together.

But of course you didn’t.

The marriage lasted three years and you were divorced soon after your twenty fourth birthday. There had been other men over the years, but none lasted very long.

They scratched an itch. They filled a void in your life that had existed since Spencer walked out. But inevitably you couldn’t commit so each one ended quicker than the last.

You stayed in Vegas all those years, maybe hoping one day Spencer would come back to you, but of course that had been foolish. Spencer was off living his own life, he probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years.

And then, at the age of thirty five, the job offer came that changed everything.

***

“It’s so quiet around here.” Luke mused as he and Spencer walked through the bullpen.

“Yeah I know what you mean. How is Garcia getting on at her new job?”

“She’s enjoying it but she misses the BAU.”

“Tell her we miss her too. Isn’t her replacement meant to be starting today?”

“She is and she’s settling into her new office.” Emily’s voice caught Spencer and Luke’s attention.

“I guess we should go and introduce ourselves.” Luke shrugged.

“Sure,” Spencer shrugged too and the two of them made their way out of the bullpen towards Garcia’s old office.

“I bet it’s going to be so drab.” Luke laughed.

“No more unicorn mugs or fluffy pens.” Spencer agreed.

“Penelope is one of a kind.”

“Undoubtedly.” Spencer swiped his card on the door and pushed the door handle before stepping into the office, Luke just behind him.

“You must be our new technical analyst.” Luke spoke as the door closed behind the two agents.

The woman sat in Garcia’s old chair tapping on the keys turned in the chair to face them.

She seemed to move in slow motion.

“I’m SSA Luke Alvez and this is Doctor-”

“Spencer Reid.” she cut him off, the words falling from her lips.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Spencer croaked, glaring at the woman in front of him as if he’d seen a ghost.

Luke frowned looking between the two of them who seemed to have forgotten his presence.

Spencer and Y/N stared at each other without saying a word. Spencer’s chest tightened, constricting his breathing. Was he having a heart attack? Was this how he was going to die?

“You uh, know each other?” Luke spoke up.

“Uh...did know each other.” you croaked not tearing your eyes away from Spencer.

“A long time ago.” Spencer added, not looking away from you either.

Sensing the tension in the room, Luke backed up towards the door.

“Maybe I should let the two of you get reacquainted.” he said but neither of you acknowledged him.

He pushed his way back into the hall just as JJ was heading his way.

“Hey, I was just coming to meet the new tech analyst.” she smiled at him.

“I would give it a minute.” Luke told her, making her frown.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of unfinished business in that room, trust me.” he put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the door.

“Spencer and the new Garcia?”

“Yeah.” Luke sighed. “If my profiling skills are accurate, I would say they were in love once. Probably still are.”

Back inside Garcia’s old office, you and Spencer were still staring at each other.

“I had no idea you still worked here, I swear. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known.” you chewed your lip awkwardly.

“You look different.” he spoke as though ignoring what you’d said.

“Well yes, it has been a long time Spencer.”

“Seventeen years, three months and fifteen days.”

“Precisely.” you frowned at his recall. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”

“No and I’m not twenty two.” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

It was longer now, curlier and messier. He sported stubble on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’d gained weight, somehow gotten even taller you were sure.

He was most certainly not the twenty two year old Spencer Reid you had spent a night with under the stars.

“You look different too. Good different.” you told him.

“A lifetime of trauma will probably do that.” he nodded stiffly.

“Spencer? Strange question for you…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you uhm...did you ever tell Penelope about...that night.” you felt yourself blushing.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh.

He hadn’t been this drunk in a really long time. Maybe ever. Spencer never had been a big drinker. But they’d had a tough case and Garcia had suggested they all spend the evening at her apartment drinking.

Spencer couldn’t recall who exactly had suggested the drinking games, possibly Kate, but they had been Spencer’s downfall.

“You never did answer the question,” Garica helped Spencer into his jacket after everyone else had left.

“What question?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes on her.

“During truth or dare Morgan asked you how you lost your virginity. You didn’t answer.”

He swallowed, stumbling over his feet a little.

“I uh…” he sighed. “It was with my best friend. On a camping trip under the stars.”

“How romantic!” Garcia swooned.

“Hmm not really. It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“I don’t remember,” he opened his eyes. “Why?”

“I met her a few times before she left, she was training me up while you guys were away on cases. She told me about the team and that’s when I figured out you still worked here, but I’d already accepted the job by then. Anyway I told her I used to know you, that we were best friends. I didn’t really think much of it until I found this today.” you fished in your pocket and pulled out a brightly coloured post it note. “It was slotted between the desks. I recognise her handwriting.”

You handed the small folded up note to Spencer who took it and unfolded it. In Garcia’s signature handwriting, it read, “You’re in love, just ask the stars.”

“Ok so maybe I did tell her about my best friend who I lost my virginity to under the stars.” he confessed.

“Ah then the note makes sense.” you took it back from him and slid it back into your pocket.

“Yeah.”

Silence followed, heavy, palpable silence.

He thought maybe after all this time he didn’t feel as strongly about you as he used to. But looking into your beautiful eyes, all those feelings came flooding back to him. He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he was still in love with you.

The question was, did you still feel the same?

As if reading his mind you stepped a little closer to Spencer, cautiously at first but when he didn’t shy away you came even closer.

You took hold of his tie and played with it between your fingers.

“I know what you’re thinking Spence,” you smiled coyly. “I always know what you’re thinking.”

“You should have been a profiler.” He smiled softly, making you laugh.

“I’ve said it once, Spence and I’ll say it again. If you want to know if I’m still in love with you...all you have to do, is ask.”

When they twinkle, twinkle,

Wedding bells will tinkle, tinkle.

You’re in love, just ask the stars.

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

One Moves On Chapter Four: Crow Rock

Stiles Stilinski doesn’t know what to think when he’s taken by the Ghost Riders. He’s grateful to be joined by Y/N L/N, although when he finally escapes, no one seems to remember her at all.

previous / series masterlist / next

Now that he’s finished his research, Stiles isn’t sure what to do next. Does he drive over in a fit of glory and bad decision making, hope to find Y/N and pray she hasn’t left before he gets there? Does he risk traveling without a pack to one of the areas with the most supernatural activity other than Beacon Hills?

In the end, Stiles decides to just go. Deliberating and hesitating won’t do him any good, not when Y/N is still out there, weaponless and with no idea where she is. Stiles spends a haphazard half hour running about his house, trying to put together supplies he might need for the trip, before finally stumbling over to his Jeep.

When he finally makes it out, keys clutched in his hand, Scott is waiting for him.

His best friend is leaning up against the driver’s side door, arms folded across his chest. Stiles’ steps falter. “You knew I was going?” Scott lifts a shoulder. “Your dad called me, said he was worried. We knew you’ve been concerned about Y/N, but we didn’t know that you would go this far. Where are you going, Stiles?”

Stiles holds up a hastily printed map. “Actually, I’m going to a town called Crow Rock. Good supernatural activity, and I followed the law of triangles-” Stiles’ voice dies off as he takes in the look on Scott’s face. “The law of triangles, which is a very reputable law from a very reputable manuscript which we all know about. Right. Well, I know how it sounds but trust me, it’s going to be alright.”

Scott sighs. “I want to believe you. Honestly, I do. But Y/N died months ago. You have to know that. I didn’t even know you cared this much about her. I’d call it grief, but you watched her die some time ago. She’s already buried.” Stiles frowns at him. “Is she? Where?” Scott fumbles for a moment. “Uh, in some cemetery.” Stiles presses his advantage. “Which cemetery? If we saw her buried, where is she?”

Scott’s brow furrows, and he stares at Stiles in bewilderment. “I can’t remember. I know where Allison and Aiden and all the others are buried, but I don’t know where she is.” Stiles throws his hands in the air. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t know because she isn’t dead. We never buried her so of course we can’t remember the cemetery. Scott, you have to believe me. She’s out there somewhere and I have to bring her back.”

Scott’s face softens. “You’re sure this will work? You know where to find her?” Stiles nods fervently. “I’ve done my research. Sometimes, people are pulled away from rifts by something called etheria. I was able to make it back safely from the Wild Hunt, but she wouldn’t. She’s not the first either- these victims, they call them etherials or something, have been disappearing for centuries. I’ve managed to track down another hotspot where she might be located and I think it’s my best shot at finding her.”

Scott nods once, then claps him on the shoulder. “I think you can do it.” Stiles looks up at him. “Really?” Scott smiles trustingly. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve put in a considerable amount of time for research. I think if anyone could track down an etherial who everyone else thinks is dead, it would be you.” Stiles grins. For some reason, hearing his best friend’s belief in him is enough to give Stiles a boost in confidence.

Scott steps away from the door of the Jeep, allowing Stiles access at last. “I just wanted to check with you before you go. To make sure you knew what you were doing.” He glances at the map, taking in the location of the hotspot. “There’s going to be a lot of supernatural trouble there. You sure you don’t want a backup group?” Stiles shakes his head, smiling. “I’m good, thank you. I think this is something I have to do by myself.”

Stiles climbs into the Jeep, giving himself a moment to think. This is it, the last moment before he sets off on his journey. He’s spent so much time preparing that it’s strange to think that this is his stepping off point, the last opportunity he has to back down and say that this is too dangerous, or that the chances are too great that he will fail.

Stiles turns on the ignition in a roar. Scott waves goodbye as the Jeep disappears down the road.

Stiles has only been driving for an hour or so before he notices a shift in the air. It’s not much, barely there, but yet something is not right. It’s like the atmosphere of the car has become quieter, even more silent than before. No one has entered or left the vehicle to warrant this silence, but it’s still enough to make Stiles feel slightly uneasy. He’d felt it a little when he was crossing over the boundary to Beacon Hills, a slight change in the energy as if by leaving he was passing through a barrier of some sort.

Stiles supposes it makes sense- you leave a hotspot, you might notice some change. Stiles doubts he would have noticed it had he not just been taken by the Wild Hunt or even gone without his temporary possession by the Nogitsune. He has a feeling that sensing this change in supernatural activity is an ability usually attributed to the supernatural, and the fact that he, a supposedly ordinary human, can sense it sets Stiles’ teeth on edge.

Stiles becomes aware of another change about fifteen minutes later. He sits up straighter in his seat, trying and failing to figure out what exactly is filling him with unease, and then he sees the sign. It’s faded, paint crumbling off of a metal backing. Even with the weathering of the sign, Stiles can still read the derelict letters: Welcome to Crow Rock. Stiles has made it at last.

The Jeep rumbles on, past the sign and onto the twisting roads. Scott, Lydia, and Malia had told him about visiting Canaan while he was still in the thrall of the Wild Hunt, and how the entire town had given off the uncanny, almost sinister energy of a ghost town. Stiles has no idea what it must have been like to walk those streets, but he has a suspicion that it would be pretty similar to how he feels right now, driving down the blocks and avenues in his truck.

Stiles has looked at images of Crow Rock from larger topographical maps, and realized that the town itself isn’t actually that big. He’d been happy then, thinking that maybe this was one instance of luck for himself and that it might not take as long to search the town for Y/N, but that hope is starting to wither away from him now. The town may be small, yes, with fewer hiding spots, but it also means fewer people to watch him. With fewer bystanders, the chance of supernaturals backing down from a public attack grows slimmer and slimmer with each mile Stiles travels within the town.

Stiles intended to drive to the center of town, where the hotspot of supernatural activity would most likely be the highest. However, as he goes he finds that certain roads are blocked off or congested with traffic that miraculously vanishes a few blocks down. He’s forced to take alternate routes, driving him on a convoluted path away from the entrance. It gives Stiles a sneaking suspicion that he’s being intentionally misrouted, that something is drawing him close.

Stiles has just taken a turn into a new street when he’s forced to come to an abrupt stop. A construction barricade has been laid across the road, orange and white paint signaling that he can travel no further. Stiles checks his rearview mirrors, ready to make a U-turn and get onto another road, when he freezes in place. A group of people is slowly spilling out into the road behind him, and they come to a stop at the main road, blocking off any chance of escape. They all consider Stiles with identical glares. This is not good.

Seeing as he can’t drive anywhere without mowing down this group of people, Stiles turns off the ignition and starts to climb down out of the Jeep. All of his instincts are screaming at him to stay in the car, to not give up the one piece of shelter he still has left, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. At least he’d be able to run on foot- if he remains in the Jeep, he’d just be a sitting duck.

Stiles walks away from the car, coming to a stop a few yards away from the group. One man steps forward, glaring at Stiles with an almost animal rage. “You should not have come here, human. You reek of enemy packs.” Most people would be smart and hold their tongues, choosing to live instead of delivering a supposedly witty retort. Stiles prefers to save his academic success for the tests in school.

“I think it’s kind of mean to go up to people and tell them they smell. I mean, I showered this morning, I can’t be that bad.” The man raises an eyebrow. “You are a human with a death wish, I see. It is not wise to pick a fight that you cannot win.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m just a tourist, man. I can see why your driving tours got such low reviews on Yelp.”

The man scoffs, the sound skidding deep in his throat like the roar of an engine. “I am quickly tiring of you. I will give you one minute to leave this town. If you are not gone by then, you will be dead.” Stiles shakes his head slowly. “I can’t do that. I’m here for someone.” The man roars at him, the sound echoing off of the buildings around them to culminate in a low din of noise. “Then you will die here instead.”

The man charges towards Stiles, claws already starting to extend from his fingers. Stiles takes one look at him and decides to do what he does best: run. He spins on his heels, dashing towards his Jeep with every ounce of energy still left in him. He’s almost there, one hand flung out towards the door, when a werewolf skids to a stop in front of him. It lets out a piercing howl, the sound of an animal about to attack.

Suddenly, a knife slams into its throat, and the wolf slumps sideways. Stiles’ head jerks up as he looks for his savior. A blur of flashing knives and running limbs appears out of nowhere, and a figure grabs the knife from the werewolf’s throat to throw it at another approaching wolf. Then the figure turns to Stiles, and he feels like he could dance with joy.

“Y/N?” She flashes him a grin. “Great to see you. Get in the Jeep.” Stiles doesn’t think twice, diving for the door and throwing himself in. Y/N climbs into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed just before a werewolf can slash her to ribbons. Stiles turns on the ignition, thanking everything holy and then some that the engine doesn’t fail him. He begins the turn to direct his car back towards the road, and then hesitates.

Y/N stares at him. “What are you waiting for? Do you enjoy being killed by enemy packs?” Stiles gestures towards the road. “The werewolves are blocking all the lanes!” Y/N’s eyes widen in something like incredulity. “Then run them over!” Stiles returns her startled gaze. “They’ll wreck my car!” Y/N grabs his hand, forcing it back onto the wheel. “If you stay here, they’ll wreck your car by dragging your dead body out of it and tearing it to shreds. Drive!”

A wolf howls nearby, raising his hand to slash at the metal body of the car. This is enough to motivate him, and Stiles slams a foot on the gas. The Jeep lurches forward, and the werewolves are forced to dive out of the way lest they get flattened by the wheels. The Jeep races around corners and through straightaways before they finally lose the enemy pack and the roads become deserted once more.

Stiles stares at the windshield unseeingly. His hands still shake from the close call. “You know, I don’t think I used my turn signal once during all of this.” There’s a quiet sound next to him, and for a second Stiles thinks that Y/N has started sobbing. Then he looks over and realizes that she’s doubled over in silent laughter. She manages to choke out two words. “Turn signal?”

Stiles stares at her for a second, then starts laughing too. Maybe it’s the thrill of yet another near death experience, or the rush of gratitude that he’s managed to find her at last, but all of a sudden every single thing in the world seems funny. He has to divert his attention back to the road in a jolt lest he run over a suicidal squirrel, which just makes them laugh even harder.

At last, they approach the sign announcing that they will shortly be leaving Crow Rock. Y/N’s laughter dies on her lips as she stares at the sign, then speaks abruptly. “Stop the car.” Stiles stares at her as she jumps out before the wheels have even stopped moving. He puts the car in park just a little bit beyond the sign, then leaps out after her. “What are you doing? Do you like the idea of being slashed to bits by the enemy packs?”

Y/N shakes her head, staring at him with quiet grief. “I can’t leave the town.” Stiles walks back over to her. “What are you talking about?” Y/N looks at him, and Stiles realizes that she doesn’t look afraid or even disappointed. Her face only holds a calm acceptance of a depressing fact. “I can’t leave. I’ve tried before, but the town won’t let me. Look.” She moves to step forward, past the ‘Leaving Crow Rock’ sign, but her feet refuse to budge. It’s as if she’s trying to walk into an invisible wall.

“I’ve tried to leave, ever since I showed up here, but I can’t. It’s like the same magic that brought me here intends on trapping me here forever.” Stiles’ eyes widen. “It’s the etheria. All those manuscripts talked about how people would be yanked away to other hotspots and never return. I thought they just meant that it was the olden days or whatever and that long of a distance was too far to travel without cars or something, but they literally meant that they couldn’t leave.”

Stiles shakes his head, unable to accept this. “I’m not giving up, not now. I’m not losing you again.” Y/N laughs quietly at that. The sound is bittersweet and tears at his heart. “I don’t think you have a choice, Stiles. There’s no way around this.” Stiles’ pulse is thundering in his veins. “No, I’m going to make a choice. Even if I have to do it all myself. No one is supposed to remember the etherials, but I remember you. We’re the exception, Y/N. I am not leaving you again.”

Out of some impulse, Stiles steps forward, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling her close. She stiffens for a second, then returns his embrace. After so many days of hearing everyone tell him that she was dead, that she didn’t exist, having her so close is like a dream or an impossibility. They stumble slightly as a strong wind hits them, shifting slightly but not letting go. Y/N gasps quietly, the sound torn away from her chest. Stiles looks at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know. I feel like-” Her eyes widen as she stares at the sign to Crow Rock, the sign that is now behind them. In that brief moment, when they’d moved to avoid the wind, they’d moved over the town barrier. It had just been mere inches, but it was enough. Y/N stares at him in awe. “How did that happen? It’s never happened before.”

Stiles can just smile at her, feeling relief crest over him like a wave. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re the exception. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I’d like to go home.” She beams at him. “I think I’d like that a lot.” Stiles reaches out, wrapping his hand around hers to guide her back to the car. They’re together at last, and they can finally make their way back to where they belong.

one moves on tag list: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @blahhhhhhhaaa

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski series #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf series #teen wolf stiles #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #stiles series #stiles stilinski teen wolf

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

when you come home to me

Summary: Alex comes home for a few days and spends them in Michael’s bed.

Tags: bittersweet fluff, lost decade, implied sexual content

for the @malexremix here's a remix of @tkstrrand ‘s fic If the world was kind, he would stay.

ao3

Monday

Alex took a deep breath, hands squeezing the armrests of the airplane seat.

They’d just landed and he was just waiting for the clearance to get off the plane. Then he’d catch a cab to his dad’s house to pick up his car and he’d get to go home. He was crawling out of his skin with anticipation and nerves. He knew, logically, that he’d be welcomed back. But he always held a sliver of doubt. Alex was always just preparing himself to walk up to Michael’s airstream and find someone else in his bed.

He didn’t have insecurity around Michael’s bisexuality or anything. He wasn’t intimidated by the idea that Michael might choose to be with a woman because it’d be a simpler time while in Roswell. Honestly, anyone would be easier for Michael to date in Roswell. At least they’d be there full time.

Yet, he couldn’t shake his nerves. He’d gone too long without contact this time, he thinks. Three years. So much could happen in three years. Michael could’ve met someone and gotten married and had a kid and it would’ve been a socially acceptable timeline.

God, he really hoped he didn’t have a kid or a spouse.

The entire process of leaving the airport, watching a few of his fellow soldiers have a grand reunion with their family while he walked towards the doors alone, and riding home in a stuffy cab that smelled faintly of weed seemed to pass all too quickly and drag on painfully at the same time. He was as sure it’d taken his entire day as he was sure it’d been 15 minutes and he was about to fall on Michael’s doorsteps without the time to think of what to say.

The first sign things were going to go in his favor, though, was the fact that his dad’s house was empty. Alex knew his father knew when he was coming back to Roswell. Not that he deliberately went out to keep track of that date, but his dad always seemed to know everything that Alex did. Which would make sense considering his current CO was buddy-buddy with Jesse Manes. The fact that he wasn’t there, waiting to make it difficult for him to get to Michael’s, was a godsend.

Alex took a record-breaking run to his room. He grabbed his phone, his charger, a couple more items of clothing, and his keys and he was gone before his dad could even return.

Michael moved between Foster’s Ranch and the junkyard. He didn’t think about what it would mean if he was somewhere else. How would he find him if he wasn’t there?

Fortunately, he didn’t have to dwell on that disaster seeing as Michael’s truck was right where he left it in Sander’s junkyard. He took a breath and climbed out of his car at the same time Michael emerged from the door. He had to lean against the car as he got a good look at him.

He looked practically the same, maybe with a little more facial hair going on, but the shirt and the jeans were more of the same. Alex didn’t have to touch it to know how soft the fabric was from years of use. He didn’t have to feel Michael rub his stubbly cheek on parts of his body to know it’d leave a beard burn rash for a day or two after he left.

He wanted to feel it anyway.

“Alex,” Michael breathed, his eyes going a bit wide and his lips parting like he couldn’t quite believe it. That hurt more than Alex had the words for.

Alex pushed himself off the car and shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping to give his hands something to do while also keeping them to himself until Michael gave him the green light to do otherwise.

“Hey.”

Michael took each step down with his entire body weight, thud, thud, thud, like he didn’t know another way. It had Alex feeling nervous and excited and a billion other things.

“You’re back,” Michael said. Alex tried to smile, but it refused to find his face so he nodded and looked down.

“Temporarily.”

Michael was quiet for a moment, but he never stopped walking closer. He stopped just an arms-length away and Alex’s eyes trailed up him, trying to spot any difference. He didn’t really see any, only a few holes in his jeans that Alex longed to put his fingers through.

“How long?” Michael asked.

“‘Till Thursday,” Alex said, making that arms-length distance more like hands-width. Michael nodded slowly, his eyes betraying his thoughts and feelings. How that wasn’t enough, but he would accept it anyway. A twisted part of Alex basked in the fact that he was wanted at all.

Instinctually, Alex looked around the junkyard for any signs of life. Not that he was foolish enough to think that Sanders didn’t know something. More than once, he’d whistled for Michael like a dog instead of coming close enough to knock which Michael thought was hilarious and only happened “when you’re in my bed, Private, I think he’s got Spidey senses”. It was a little nerve-wracking, but Alex was able to convince himself that that didn’t mean Sanders knew it was him or knew what they were doing. There was reasonable doubt to be had. But. Still.

“Sanders is away, I’m looking after the yard for a while, no one’s around,” Michael whispered. Alex’s eyes drifted back to him and a smile finally found his face at the idea that they were completely alone. That meant he could convince Michael to stay in bed a little later in the morning. That meant he could get him to be a little louder. They could be a bit more comfortable in their own skin.

Michael moved until they were practically chest to chest, nearly stepping on Alex’s toes in the process. He wouldn’t have minded if he did, honestly. Michael reached up to grab his collar, tugging him in until they were nose to nose. He laughed softly, that tense knot of nervousness in his stomach exploding into pure excitement. For all the times he told himself he’d never come back to Roswell, this made it blatantly clear why he kept doing just that.

“Wanna go inside?” Michael murmured, tilting his head just enough to nudge his nose into Alex’s. Alex nodded quickly, feeling young and dumb and giddy for just a moment, and Michael smiled. God, he was beautiful.

Michael’s hand drifted from his collar down to his hand and he led the way into the airstream with Alex hot on his heels.

When the door closed, Alex started to unbutton his jacket. He expected frantic, desperate movement from both of them like usual, but Michael stopped and looked at him up and down for a moment. Alex grinned and slowed just a bit, just to tease. Michael rolled his eyes and leaned forward, his lips brushing Alex’s cheek in an experimental fashion. Something bigger than butterflies‒birds, maybe pterodactyls‒burst in his stomach at the small affection.

“Say ‘honey, I’m home’,” Michael asked against his cheek, voice quiet and unsure. Alex turned his head until they were nose to nose again and shucked off his jacket. It hit the floor and he didn’t give a shit about picking it up to fold it neatly.

Alex hooked his thumb into the hem of Michael’s jeans and tugged him in until they were pressed together from head to toe. He very much wanted to be pressed head to toe without their clothes between them. So he grabbed the belt buckle.

“Honey,” he said, breathy and not as sing-song as he was planning. Michael grinned anyway.

Alex yanked the belt out of the belt loops and Michael started to untuck Alex’s shirt, calloused fingers gliding over his stomach. Alex slowly started backing him further into the airstream towards the little bed that they’d made more happy memories in than Alex would ever tell anyone about. They were theirs. No one was allowed to taint them.

“I’m home.”

“You’ve been gone a while.”

Alex tried not to flinch at the simple statement, instead of letting his fingers trail over Michael’s skin. He had his ear against his heart and the soft, repetitive thud was soothing in more ways than he had the words for.

“I got a promotion, things have been kinda hectic,” Alex said, quiet and clinical in hopes Michael would drop the subject sooner rather than later, “We were traveling a lot.”

Alex managed a glance up at him and met his eyes, silently asking him to drop it if he could. That was an easier said request than done, but still. Michael rewarded him with a hand through his hair.

“Congrats,” Michael said dryly. Alex scooted a little closer, pressing up against his body in hopes that it’d subdue whatever was going on in his head. It was all he could do.

“Tell me about you,” Alex said, desperately changing the subject as he rested his head on Michael’s chest again. His heartbeat was a little louder, a little faster. Alex wanted to soothe that away somehow.

Michael’s arms wrapped around him.

“Isobel got married.”

“To Noah?” Alex asked, a smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t know the guy and he had mixed feelings about Isobel, but Michael loved her and he thought Noah was good for her and therefore Alex felt the same. “That’s great.”

“Mhm,” Michael agreed, craning his head down to search for a kiss. Alex moved to touch his face and deepened the kiss with ease.

This he could do. This he knew would make him relax. It always did. Maybe that was stupid and immature, but it felt good. It was an easy way to see Michael smile, to hear him laugh, to feel his skin turn red with adrenaline and excitement. And Alex knew he was the cause.

He liked being the cause of good things and so far making Michael feel nice was the only thing on that list.

Alex pulled him down into bed with him all over again, a silent promise to add a tally next to that one item on the list.

Tuesday

Alex slept in late for the first time in a long time, allowing himself to wallow in bed even after he knew there was no more going back to sleep.

He rolled and buried his face in the pillow before remembering that he wasn’t alone. A small smile found his face, still hidden away from the world in the comfort of the pillow and he reached out, feeling for Michael. However, the bed was empty and his smile was replaced with a pout. He lifted his head groggily and looked for Michael only to see him watching him from across the trailer.

“Come back to bed,” Alex whined, reaching out for him and forgetting himself for just a moment. He shouldn’t be whining and begging and using grabby hands towards anyone regardless of what they’ve done. Still. He did it. He quickly dropped his hand and evened his face once he remembered.

Michael seemed unphased by the slip-up, a big, warm smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. He was shirtless and had a pair of jeans on that were unbuttoned and hanging loose on his hips. Alex could follow the line of hair across his abdomen down to where it disappeared beneath his jeans. It made him feel warm all over again and he could feel himself forgetting his composure, wanting to just reach out and take.

“I will in a second,” Michael said softly.

Alex scrunched up his nose in distaste which got a huffed laugh out of Michael, but he quickly let it drop and he sat up. He reached across for where his bag was and pulled out a pair of clean boxers to put on and then threw on one of Michael’s shirts on top of it. It wasn’t as warm as the one he was wearing, probably, but it would simply have to do. And it really, really would do.

Michael came closer, finally, and sat beside him with two mix-matched mugs in his pretty hands. He handed one to Alex and adjusted himself to lean against the wall as Alex took a sip. He found himself staring into the cup almost too afraid to take another sip in case this was just something he made up in his head despite the warmth blooming in his gut at the taste.

“What?” Michael asked, taking a sip of what was most definitely coffee from the smell of it.

Alex turned his entire body to look at him, disbelief thrumming through his veins and a smile pulling at his lips.

“Since when do you drink herbal tea?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. He had at least one vivid memory of Michael choking and spitting it out when Alex had forced him to take just one sip.

And it turns out he didn’t and all of the disbelief in Alex’s system lit on fire into pure euphoria as Michael said he got it just for him. A small hope and faith that Alex wasn’t just fucking around with his feelings and dropping off the face of the Earth. Not just that, but spending his money on something for Alex. They didn’t really spend money on each other and this wasn’t necessarily expensive, and yet…

“Thank you,” Alex breathed, moving forward to kiss him again. Michael kissed him back and then took the mug from him to place on the counter beside his own. The taste of the coffee on Michael’s tongue definitely clashed with the tea, but Alex craved it.

The shirt he’d put on ended up on the floor and Michael grabbed his knees to pull him into his lap enough to lay him down. Alex felt high on him, on the idea that he bought him tea, on the fact that he wanted him to come back, expected him to come back. He held onto Michael’s back, tugging him in close and almost clawing at his back just to make sure this was real. That he was really here and they were really together if only for a moment in time.

“Ah,” Alex breathed, gripping him tighter as Michael’s teeth dug into the skin of his neck.

They seemed to have the same idea.

Wednesday

One day, when Alex had a house of his own, he was going to have an at-home library.

He didn’t have time for books much anymore, but the idea was still appealing and one day he wanted to have time for books. He wanted his walls to be lined with them, to have a full selection, to have the permanence of them. Michael, however, was already beating him at starting a collection.There wasn’t many in the grand scheme of things, but more than one should have in a living space so small, a stack of textbooks and non-fictional works on the table and a hidden pile shoved beneath the bed.

The whole thing had Alex feeling light and fluffy again despite the fact that Michael was working and Alex had to entertain himself this morning. It was just so cute. Alex took a shower and got dressed and when he got all ready for the day, he found himself staring at the stack. He carefully took the top one and started to thumb through it.

He objectively knew Michael was intelligent. He didn’t care what people said about mechanics, the shit was hard work and took more intelligence than he was sure anyone really knew. Even Alex really only knew how to change a tire. Michael, on the other hand, had built an entire engine.

Still, opening the old textbook to see it was flat-out mechanical engineering in the most clinical way was enough to make Alex feel warm with pride. All the highlights and notes in the margin felt so personal and the loose-leaf paper tucked into the practice problem pages screamed Michael Guerin. He was just so fucking smart. Alex liked him so much.

A few vocabulary words later‒and most notably a lot of notes on how to build a bigger, more powerful engine and an asterisk to remind him to compare to notes in his Rocket Propulsion textbook‒Alex found himself peeking behind the little curtain to see if he could spot Michael. And he did, seeing him wiping his hands as he spoke to a pretty woman who was probably a decade or so older than them. She was very clearly appreciative and Alex couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

Alex went back to the textbook, making himself comfortable in Michael’s bed. He had a secret, personal, debatably gross affinity for the way the blankets began to smell after they’d had sex a few times without washing them. It was gross, but they smelled a little musty and a little like Alex’s body wash and a little like Michael’s skin and a lot like they were a product of the two of them existing as one. He’d enjoyed the smell since the summer after high school when they were resigned to the bed of his truck with his sleeping bags. The idea of it pulsed in his veins.

He brought the blankets to his nose and kept reading.

“You’re dressed,” Michael noted when he came back inside. Alex managed to drop the blanket at the sound of the door opening in a casual motion, trying not to do anything distinctly weird. If Michael noticed he didn’t say anything, instead happily sitting on the bed in all of his sweaty, greasy glory and pulled Alex’s legs into his lap.

Alex glared at him and deeply buried the urge to see what his neck tasted like when he was this messy.

“It was getting cold,” he said simply as he put the book down.

“That’s what the blanket is for.”

“So, I was just meant to wait here for you, naked?” Alex teased, gravitating closer unintentionally. His eyes drifted to that spot on his tan neck, glistening with the heat of the day. A little bit of staring and he realized he left a mark.

Huh. That was a first.

“That was the plan, yeah,” Michael said. He grabbed Alex’s hand and held it tight.

Alex teased him and watched him closely, considering pulling him down and saying screw showers despite the fact that Michael desperately needed one before he put his hands anywhere sacred. Michael, however, noticed the book.

“Engineering,” Alex told him when he asked, “You’ve got lots of notes in here, you building something?”

Alex turned a few pages, that one reminding him to compare notes in his rocket science book unintentionally catching his eye again.

“Just cars,” Michael said, tone of voice a little more tense than it should be.

Alex met his eyes and stared at him. And for the first time in a long time when it came to Michael Guerin, Alex got that weird feeling in his gut that said he wasn’t telling the truth. Which would be ridiculous‒what the hell would there be to lie about?

Instead of letting himself sit with the idea, however, Alex tilted his head back and closed his eyes, shaking it out of his mind. They were having a good week. Alex was being paranoid for no goddamn reason. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Michael’s hand before shifting to lay his head on his shoulder. He didn’t smell like the sheets. He smelled like Michael. And Alex didn’t care that he was probably getting him dirty just by being near him.

“What’d you wanna do?”

“Can we just…” Alex said, breathing out as he considered the fact that Michael did actually have to bathe and that they did need to change the sheets after him sitting on them. He wasn’t quite ready to give up the potency yet. He could only have it for so long. “Can we just sit here for a bit?”

“Of course.”

Without meaning to, Alex dozed off. When he came to, the sheets were changed and smelled fresh, though still of Michael, and Michael was clean and tucked up against him. Alex was reminded by how much he liked clean Michael as well. He couldn’t tell if he liked him dirty or clean more.

It didn’t matter. Alex reached up to press his fingers against the mark that was much more visible when he wasn’t grimy and Michael, unconscious and endlessly sweet, moved closer.

He wondered how hard it would be to get Michael to cover him in marks, little reminders for just a few more days after he left. That was, however, extremely impractical and irresponsible given, well, everything about his job.

So instead he cuddled closer and held him and tried to memorize the way his body felt this close.

Thursday

“Do you remember the movie Cars?”

Alex blinked a few times as he registered the words coming out of Michael’s mouth. He was struggling to stay awake considering they’d spent the entire morning testing out the true meaning of stamina and destroying the concept of a post-coital recuperation period, hours dedicated to whiting out Alex’s mind from the inevitable departure that was coming closer with each passing moment. They were running out of time and Alex was much more content to not think about it or address it.

And Michael apparently wanted to talk about Cars.

“What?” Alex asked, lifting his head. Michael was laying in the opposite direction, his lips swollen and red and his hair a frizzy mess where it laid against Alex’s shin. His feet were on the wall to avoid being on the pillow.

“Cars, like the animated Disney movie?” Michael said.

“I-I mean, yeah, I remember Cars. Just, like, where did that come from?” Alex asked, huffing a laugh. He grabbed one of Michael's ankles and brought it to his chest, just needing to touch him.

“Remember when we watched it in Spanish senior year?” Michael continued. Alex nodded, watching him.

Michael seemed still a little dazed now that Alex’s eyes focused on him more. His fingers were playing with Alex’s leg hair and his eyes were half-lidded and the sun was shining even past the curtains, his tanned skin glowing. Alex had littered his skin in tiny red marks that he couldn’t ask for in return. He looked fucking godlike for a moment. Longer than a moment.

“Yeah, I remember we had a sub and she couldn’t figure out how the subtitles worked so we watched it in Spanish with French subtitles,” Alex said.

“You put your head down and your shirt rode up a little ‘cause of it. I sat there for, like, thirty minutes trying to figure out how to tell you that your shirt rode up and I could see, like, a millimeter of your boxers and an inch of your skin. It was nothing, really, but I remember feeling like it was the most scandalous thing I’d ever seen. And I stared at you the whole class period trying to work up the nerve to say something to you, anything, even if it was just saying I liked your shirt,” Michael rambled, his voice a little muffled against Alex’s leg. That didn’t stop Alex from feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. “Anyway, if you could be in that universe, would you wanna be a living car or a living plane?”

Alex breathed a soft laugh, trying and failing to move past the part where he had just admitted something insanely sweet from a time months before they even really spoke one-on-one for the first time. Clearly, they needed to go at it like that more often. They didn’t tell stories like that. They didn’t talk about things that mattered.

To Alex, that mattered.

“Plane,” Alex whispered, slowly pushing himself to a sitting position and trying not to jostle Michael too much even if it felt awkward. Alex kissed his knee as he slowly took one of his legs back. “I like to fly.”

“You like to fly,” Michael repeated, soft like he was keeping it for himself. Alex smiled and slowly shifted one of his other legs away. Michael pouted adorably about it and Alex slowly made his way up his body.

“Yeah,” Alex said, fingers sliding over his thigh as he placed himself over Michael. The pout faded into something a lot more serene. “I did really well in flight school.”

“You have a pilot’s license?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. Air Force.”

“I’ve looked it up before, not everyone in the Air Force flies planes,” Michael said softly, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t know you did.”

“It’s a convenient thing to have and it was offered to us for free. So, you know, if we ever need to fly away, I can handle it,” Alex said. Michael stared at him for a moment. Maybe longer than a moment.

“Okay,” he said, pulling him down for a kiss.

It was languid and slow, the sun bearing down on them and making it hotter in the airstream than it already was from them alone. And Alex reveled in it. He wanted to soak in as much of this feeling in every way.

Because in twelve hours, he would be gone.

His flight was at five. He had to leave Michael by two so he could drop his car off at his dad’s and then he had to call a cab. And that would be it. He would be gone and he wouldn’t know when he would be back.

It was hard, leaving. Alex wanted so many things, all of them so out of reach, and his body ached for it. But he couldn’t have them. It wasn’t about what he wanted and, even though Michael seemed to want it too, Alex knew it was bad for them. It was messy and there were too many other players and it was best they stole this small time and didn’t make it harder than it had to be. They kept it physical and casual because it was what was best.

And yet.

Michael’s hand pressed to the base of his spine, a hot presence holding him close. He touched every inch of skin he could and he kissed him like it was important. Michael kept tea for him and put off work to be here. He hadn’t looked at his well-loved notebooks since Alex got here. His attention was on Alex. All of it. He was wanted here. Alex loved the way that felt.

He loved him.

It was almost torturous how something could be literally in his hands and simultaneously entirely out of reach. The silly game Alex played with himself, letting himself get all excited about going home because he wanted to see him while reminding himself that there was no guarantee that Michael was waiting. There was no promise made. Hell, they barely spoke about things unless they were trivial to make sure they didn’t make things worse.

And he loved him.

Alex didn’t have to ask if Michael was seeing other people when he was gone, he knew he was. He was handsome and smart and hardworking despite what he’d have others believe. He knew one day he’d come home and Michael wouldn’t be open to letting him in his bed. He’d find someone nice, someone cozy, someone safe. Someone who didn’t keep him waiting around. It was only a matter of time. It was stupid to care too much.

But Alex loved him.

They didn’t start another round this time, bodies too fraught and fried and tired to try. Instead, they kissed until the kissing stopped and they just held each other. The sun was shining on them, the clock was ticking, and Michael’s skin was sticking to his with sweat from how hot it was but neither of them was bold enough to move.

And Alex loves him.

Friday

Alex let out a shaky breath as he watched the clock tick to 1:45 AM.

He’d run out of time. Michael was laying on his back, sound asleep with his head leaning towards Alex. It hurt to look at him, but Alex mustered enough courage to touch his face carefully and push his hair back. He kissed his forehead and then his cheek, watching to make sure he didn’t stir, and then slowly got out of the bed that had been so nice to him these last few days.

Alex gathered his things quietly, putting on his shirt and his pants and his shoes. He grabbed his phone and his keys and held them tightly to muffle any excess noise. His heart felt like it was going to melt out of his chest as he looked at him. Apparently, all the touching didn’t help him feel ready to leave at all.

God, it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad.

Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t tell Michael when his flight was or when he was leaving out of self-preservation. He didn’t trust himself to leave if Michael was awake. And yet it still felt like the hardest thing.

Beside Alex’s bag was a soft, worn black sweater. The sleeves and the neck were stretched out. It smelled like Michael. Alex found himself pulling it over his head despite it still feeling a little hot in the airstream. He wanted to keep something, just this one thing, just for a little while.

Quickly, to make himself feel less embarrassed about it, he opened one of Michael’s notebooks to leave a note. He had a million things to say. He settled on something simple.

Borrowed your sweater, it was cold hope that’s okay.

I’ll give it back next time I’m home

- AM

He started at it and swallowed, trying to make sure it was enough. Maybe he could smother it in tiny hearts or find something to make a kiss print with or something. Something that would let Michael know that he loved him even though that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t think of anything worthwhile, though, and instead just flipped it over.

I’ll be back, I promise

Alex took another deep breath and looked at Michael again, mentally saying fuck it as he leaned back down to kiss him on the cheek and breathe in the smell of his hair. It was intoxicating. He wanted to crawl back into bed with him. It was so much better than being out there, running special operations because he was talented. That’s what he was told. Talented. We need you, do you really need a vacation right now? You’re important. Your decryption is incredible and needed. Fine. Five days, but then you need to come back. Captain.

Five days.

“I’m going to come home,” Alex murmured, standing up straight. He swallowed the lump in his throat and found a tack in a small cup of screws and other pointy things, sticking the note where Michael would see it.

This wasn’t it. He was going to come back. Maybe Michael would be with someone more permanent by then and maybe this was the last time he’d get to kiss him. And that would be fair and Alex wouldn’t complain.

But maybe not. And maybe he’d have more of him in his future. More talks. More anecdotes about liking Alex.

More. They could have more one day. This wasn’t over.

Alex got in his car and drove.

#malex #malex fic #micahel guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #malexremix2021

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uwurakax · 4 years ago

Text

teardrops on my guitar ♡

pairing: semi x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // unrequited love // pining ♡

summary: it was like the plot of any rom com; two kids, a boy and a girl who were best friends since childhood and inseparable. you fell in love with him, and maybe he could’ve loved you too. such a shame he grew feelings for someone else ♡

word count: 1.7k ♡

author’s note: i love the pretty setters so much why am i doing this t-t which one next? lolol jk - not proofread sry. also wtf tryna write this on the train then some nub slams into my seat from behind dude u wot ♡

♡ (inspired by teardrops on my guitar by taylor swift) ♡

“What’s this?”

“A flower duh”

“But.. why...?”

“My dad gives them to my mum. He says he loves her after”

“But why are you giving it to me?”

“Because we love each other right?”

“Yeah”

“And one day we’ll get married and stuff”

“Hahaha, yeah! And then you give me all the flowers!”

A sweet memory, one from many years prior had always managed to pop into your mind at the most random times. You wished it didn’t, an adorable and innocent reminiscence had no place here, only offering confusion and complications. Semi Eita is your best friend, you wouldn’t let your feelings ruin your friendship with him.

Sometimes you’d wonder what would happen if you did actually confess to him. Wondering if he actually did remember the childish promise the two of you made. Neither of you had known of the power and meaning of the words uttered between you at barely 6 years old. The innocence of it all turned into something different.

Something deeper.

You also wondered if he would’ve looked at her. It was way too easy to fall into the mindset of ‘if I had told him, would he have looked at me the way he does her?’. ‘If I said my feelings sooner, could he have held me the same?’.

If I had told Semi I loved him, would he kiss me like that too?

There was way too many ifs going through your head, it was a marvel you could concentrate on anything else. At least during these moments your heart had some reprieve, a minuscule break of the pain you had to endure everyday you saw him with her.

Everyday during lunch, she sat next to him. The couple sitting opposite you at the table and you absolutely loathed it. It didn’t seem fair, the two of them being all lovey dovey, the sight of a picture perfect couple. Flaunting the perfect love they shared to anyone and everyone who saw. It just sucked that you were in the front row.

Everyday at practice she was there, cheering on Semi. Her yells and squeals echoing against the court walls. They easily overshadowed your silent ones. She’d jump excitedly next to you, clapping and screaming for the team. If you squinted, you could’ve pretended that the warm smile he threw over at the both of you was for you only.

You knew better though. Knew that any affection of love held was hers, and only hers. Knew the cheeky winks and blown kisses were reserved only for her. Knew that the uncontrollable feelings you felt for your best friend would never be reciprocated.

For only small moments, you could delude yourself into believing that Semi Eita had loved you the way you loved him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Jogging towards you, you handed Semi his water bottle, a small smile tugging on your lips. He wasn’t looking at you though. Honestly he never looked at you anymore, not with her around. Even when she wasn’t his eyes scanned for her. Like nothing else even mattered as long as she was there.

You had to hold back a sigh, quietly watching as he stared at her with such loving eyes. You wanted to hate it. Absolutely despise the way he looked at her, but you couldn’t. He looked so happy. Like a scene from a romance movie, he eyed her as if she was the sun, and everything just revolved around her. The whole nine yards of feeling goosebumps and a quickening heartbeat, Semi felt it all.

You wondered if she even knew the adoration he held for her. Despite her back being turned, despite the fact that she was engaged in conversation with someone else, Semi was undeniably smitten.

“You know, I think she’s the one” Semi whispered to you. This was the harsh reality of it all. No matter how much you wished, Semi Eita just wasn’t meant for you.

“You think so?” You tried to hide your exhaustion, numbness taking over your body. You could still feel the pinpricks of heartache however, no matter how much you tried to push it down. And sooner or later, it would overwhelm you until you buried your face into your pillow and cried til you fell asleep. That was a problem for future you though.

“Yeah, I do” he smiled wistfully at her, your heart fracturing little by little. You knew that look all too well. The look of longing, admiration and pure love. Recognised it all to well, because it was the way you looked at him. In class, at lunch and during practice. Whenever he wasn’t looking, you’d lower your wall by the tiniest bit.

You weren’t unknown to the fact that she looked at him exactly the same way too.

Whenever he was concentrating on his work, his serves or chatting with his friends, she’d gaze at him with the same affection that was unknown to Semi himself. It wasn’t hard to be envious. Not just because you were in love with Semi too, but to find something so special was so incredibly rare.

“I’m really happy for you Semi, I’m glad you found her.” You looked away, not wanting Semi to see your face. Sure that if he saw your eyes, he’d see the heartbreak swimming beneath the glistening tears that had just barely started to form.

“Semi!” You heard her squeal, bouncing her way to the both of you and throwing herself in his arms. It truly was unfair how they seemed to meld together so well. Like ying and yang, the moon and tides. You couldn’t have one without the other, so complimentary in existence.

You tuned them out, not wishing to subject yourself to anymore heartache for the day.

“You should join us Y/N! We don’t hang out much and I wanna get to know Semi’s best friend more” she smiled. Her wonderfully radiant smile beamed at you. Pearly whites shining under the lights, it was like God himself blessed her, an invisible spotlight on her at all times. Guess God really did have favourites, and she was impeccable.

“Ah I’d love to but I really have to get this homework done or I never will. Plus don’t wanna intrude” you shyly said. You didn’t know how much you would’ve been able to take.

“Alright fine but next time! Gotta promise ‘kay?” She giggled and snuggled up to Semi’s side.

“Of course, it’s a promise”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You were slow packing up your books and pens, the lunch bell normally alerting your body to speed your way to your lunch table to prolong the little break you did get.

When you finally did make it to your friends, you noticed Semi hadn’t arrived yet, and the only open seat was next to her. With a quiet sigh, you reluctantly sat down.

Opening your school bought bento, you picked at the egg, too exhausted from everything and just not being in the mood to eat.

“Y/N, you alright?” Her super sweet and feminine voice rang in your ear. Honestly, it was just grating to you now. You plastered on a fake smile.

“Yeah, sorry just super tired” you continued to stare at your food, probably looking like you hated the mix of meat and vegetables. Just for today, you didn’t want to pretend to be okay. Pretending that you were happy for your best friend. Pretending that you weren’t in love with him. Pretending that you didn’t hate his girl even though she did nothing to warrant any form of hatred from you.

“Guess who!” You saw Semi over your shoulder, playfully covering her eyes and hiding one arm behind is back. She giggled out his name, pulling his arm off and giving him a quick peck. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, their public display of affection eating away at you, and making you more infuriated and annoyed.

Semi pulled a beautiful bouquet from his back and handed them to her, her eyes widening in surprise.

Flowers huh?

“Wow Semi, these are gorgeous! But you didn’t have to..” she stared starstruck, unable to look away at the assortment of flora. Pinks, reds and whites decorated the bouquet, and were wrapped in a gorgeous purple cellophane.

“I know, I wanted to. You do give flowers to the person you like right?”

And just like that, your heart completely shattered.

She gave Semi another peck, thanking him for the thoughtful gesture.

You quickly arose from your seat, throwing your napkin and chopsticks into your bento, packing it up and quietly leaving the table.

“Hey, where are you going?” Semi called out to you, both of them looking at you curiously.

“Sorry, just need to go to the bathroom real quick” and you scurried off, throwing away your barely eaten meal with a bit more force than necessary.

When you finally made it to the bathrooms, you slammed the door and leaned your back against it. You started to inhale deeply, the once cute memory that brought you happiness now only gave you pain. You pulled the toilet lid down and sat, not caring if it wasn’t as hygienic as it should’ve been.

Curling your knees into your chest, you buried your face in them and let out the anguish and hurt that had been waiting to spill over. The hot burning tears that you only had yourself to blame for, because you were the idiot who fell in love with their best friend.

You cried until your eyes felt swollen and heavy, the constant friction of repeated rubs on the sleeve of your blazer added to the redness in your eyes. You looked down at your black polished school shoes, unaware of how much time had actually passed. It didn’t matter anyway.

Steadily, you got up from the seat. Once you left this bathroom stall, you’d never cry over Semi Eita ever again. You’d be the best friend, the one who would always be happy for him; and you wouldn’t fake it this time. You’d actively and attentively listen to him about his relationship, no longer going to feel bitter. You’d smile and cheer, and be the most supportive you could be, how you should be. They deserved that.

You’d let Semi go.

Perhaps tonight, with the newly made promises to yourself, you’d finally be able to get some sleep.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #semi x reader #semi x you

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allegra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Take me home (A Far from Home fix it)

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, Porn with Plot

The request:

Hi! I love your fics so so much! Can I get a “Far from home” fic about that scene on the tulips field only instead of Happy being the one to pick up Peter is the reader and Peter is still too shocked cause of the hallucinations and you have to convince Peter that your real someway and maybe smut happens? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

MY MASTERLIST

The deafening noise of the Jet landing was music to Peter’s sore ears -he was sore everywhere actually, being hit by a train would do that to you- but the vision of you coming out of the plane was what finally brought him to his knees.

When he had called mister Stark a couple of hours before to come pick him up like the lost little boy he felt like, the more logical part of his brain knew he wasn’t going to come flying to his rescue in his IronMan armor like so many times before. In fact Tony Stark was never going to wear an armor again. His mentor had survived the final snap, but just barely, losing his arm and shoulder in the process, and the damage to his heart meant that he would not be able to be Iron Man anymore.

But somehow it had never occurred to Peter that he would send you instead. Watching you come down those steps, what occurred to him was that nobody had ever looked so good in a dress as you did right then in your red wrap dress, coming his way in that field, surrounded by a thousand colorful tulips, flower petals falling all around you. It was unreal, you looked like a dream, a fantasy… or a hallucination.

“Stop!” He demanded from his place kneeling on the ground, stopping you on your tracks. You took in his disheveled state, bruises covering his face and undoubtedly his body too, eyes red and swollen from crying, and the urge to run to him hit you double but you obeyed.

“Y/n? Is that really you?”

You frowned,

“Am I… Of course I’m really me! Peter what is going on?”

He seemed almost afraid of looking at you, avoiding your eyes as he implored,

“Then tell me something only you and I would know. Please, if you’re really her, prove it. I can’t stand another nightmare, I just can’t…”

“The night of the day we met, we kissed at the Eiffel tower,” You answered without skipping a beat.”

“No!” He interrupted you, frantic, “No, I told him that! Something else, tell me something else!”

You casted a wary look at Happy standing only a few yards away from you, but complied anyway,

“A couple of weeks ago, we snuck out of your birthday party and made love on the lake shore under the stars, while everyone was looking for us to cut the cake” You ignored Happy’s scandalized “YOU DID WHAT?” and went on,

“Pepper actually found us in the middle of it but she didn’t tell on us. She said it would be hypocritical to let Tony to lecture us when…”

“When she had walked in on him on the same situation a hundred times” Peter finished for you

“Yeah…” You said weakly. Peter sighed in relief, and he was the one to finally run to you. He held you a little too tight, burying his face on the crook of your neck and breathing you in. No hallucination would ever be able to replicate the soft perfume of your skin or the feeling of your body in his arms. He

couldn’t help the chocked sob that escaped his throat,

“You were dead” You could feel his tears falling down your shoulder, his words muffled against your skin, “You snapped your fingers and it killed you, it burned you up…”

“But it wasn’t me” You tighten your arms around his shoulders, trying to offer him some comfort, “That was my dad, remember? He used the glove and defeated Thanos, and he almost died, yeah, but you saved him…”

“We saved him,” he corrected you, like you were expecting him to, “You and me and the doctor… we- we saved him”

“So it couldn’t have been me, see?” You reasoned.

“No- I know that” He accepted, “It’s just-… it was so real! I thought I had lost you…”

“No, I am real” you pointed out, “and I am here with you”

That seemed to finally do the trick and he leaned back to look into your eyes, letting go of you just to cup your face with his hands.

“Yeah,” he let out under his breath, a little amazed, “yeah, you are”

You didn’t know who initiated the kiss, which one of you was the first to cross the few inches that separated you, and honestly, you didn’t care. Not with Peter’s soft lips moving against yours, teeth coming out to delicately nibble on your bottom lip in a silent request that you gladly conceded. Peter always kissed you like you were something precious, something to be cherished. Always starting out soft and slow, and building up till the fire igniting within the two of you became almost unbearable, exploding into a million colors behind your eyelids, making you come alive in a way not even flying in your Ironheart suit a million miles an hour managed to.

Before the kiss could get heated, though, a throat cleared loudly behind you. But the intrusive noise only succeeded in making Peter kiss you a little more insistently.

“Oh, for the love of-… get away from each other before I pry you apart with a crowbar!” ordered Happy, “Don’t think I wouldn’t!”

You let go of Peter and he took a step back, turning to Happy

“Hey, happy” He greeted, sheepishly, “Nice to see you…”

“Oh, please, save it” He replied, straight faced, “Let’s get on the plane so you can explain to me long has this” he gestured between you and Peter “been going on and if the boss knows you’re smooching his

daughter.”

“Wait, mister Stark can block the glasses?”

“Dad already brief me on the whole situation with Mysterio and the EDITH glasses,” You filled Peter in once inside the jet, “He can block his access to the network but for now he’s letting him believe he’s in control until we can figure out his next target and pin down his location” You were suddenly all business.

It was as if a switch had turned, and you went instantly into agent mode. He wondered vaguely if you knew you did that. And if you knew how hot that was.

“Well, of course he can” You explained, “ the glasses are the prototype, but you couldn’t possibly believe those are the only interface we have for the Stark Global Defense System…”

“You’re hurt” You noticed, “Happy, bring me the first aid kit, would you?”

With every second passing, Peter felt stupider and stupider.

“Right, of course not,” He limped to the sit in front of you, “that would- that would be absurd…”

“I’m not your butler, you know?”

You threw an unimpressed look at him, and you were sure he was about to get up his seat to fetch the kit, caving in under the pressure of the Stark Bitchface ™, when his phone rang.

“Sorry, I have to take this” He hurriedly got up and ran to the cockpit in a desperate quest for privacy “Hi, babe!..” You caught right before he closed the door, effectively locking himself from view.

“I think Happy has a girlfriend!” Marveled Peter.

You and Peter exchanged a amused look,

“What the hell was that?”

You laughed, and even Peter chuckled a little. You made a note to thank Happy later for putting a smile on his face when he so obviously needed it.

“I’ll go get the kit, you wait here” You decided before leaving Peter on the armchair and disappearing inside the jet’s bathroom.

It made him uneasy, not having you in sight. A couple weeks felt like two years. And yes, you had unwittingly broke his heart (again), but it was obvious to him that you hadn’t done so un purpose. He had spent too much time apart from you already, he didn’t want to miss you anymore, specially not after realizing you still wanted him. So he gritted his teeth against the pain and went to find you.

It was worth it, he decided, every second of discomfort only to see you like that: On your tip toes, reaching for the box inside the cabinet, short dress riding up your thighs, long hair falling around your shoulders, skin glowing even under the unflattering fluorescent lights. Your fingers fumbled to open the latch, unsuccessfully.

“Stop staring at me, I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that!” You called him out. He smiled at the floor, feeling his cheeks heating up.

“How did you know I was staring?”

“I can always tell when you’re looking at me” You turned to find him leaning on the door, “I can feel your eyes on me… Come, since you came all this way, I might as well patch you up here” You closed the toilet lid and motioned for him to sit. He did so obediently while you finally got the kit out.

“You’re doing it again…”

“Sorry, I just can’t get over how beautiful you are,” He spilled out “it’s Ironic actually, considering I had a plan on six steps to get over you this summer…”

Only the slightest stuttering in your heart rhythm and your sudden breath intake let him know he had upset you. Outwardly you kept on taking bandages out of the box.

“You wanted to get over me?” You asked, as casually as you managed. Peter cursed himself for bringing it up; What was wrong with him? If friends with benefits was all you were willing to offer, he would take it. Gladly. You owed him no explanations, you owed him nothing. And yet, he couldn’t help to want

more…

“Wait,” You interrupted him, confused, “ you did know dad grounded me after Paris, right?”

He sighed,

“Yeah, I kinda did. I woke up after my birthday and you were gone, just… gone. No goodbye, no explanation, no calls… not even my texts were getting through and… it hurt” He explained without looking up, “It was like Paris all over again and I just-…”

To Peter’s blank look, you exclaimed,

“Oh my god, you didn’t know! Tony banned me from technology, and there was no way of getting your contact info out of him without him getting suspicious, that’s the only reason I didn’t call then!”

Peter knew he was going to hate himself for asking, but he couldn’t help himself,

“And what about this time?”

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “look at me, hey!” You finally met his eyes and he smiled, “There you are, it doesn’t matter, we’re together now, so everything’s ok”

“There was an emergency, and Strange took me with him to fight it, said it could only be me. I wasn’t even in this dimension, that’s why my phone wasn’t working.” You shook your head, “I wrote you a letter, Happy was supposed to give it to you… I guess he didn’t”

You rubbed your face with your hands, obviously frustrated. Peter stood, taking them into his own.

“It’s not, Peter! A mistake just like this is what killed Romeo and Juliet!” You protested. He snorted,

“Good thing I didn’t killed your cousin and you’re not engaged, then”

He just shrugged noncommittally, or at least tried to, cause it pulled at the cut on his back. His twitch and pained face didn’t go unnoticed. You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt,

You smiled a little at that,

“I’m still killing Happy when this is all over…”

“Take it off”

“Take off your shirt” you repeated, “let me have a look at that injury”

His eyes went wide,

“What?”

“Right, you need to… sure. Of course.”

Your smirked was wiped right off your face as soon as his chest was exposed. That night at the lake, it had been dark. But in that bathroom under the bright lights, you could actually see all the hard planes of his body that you remembered feeling against your own. You shook yourself, now it was not the time, not with him hurt and needing your help. He turned around wordlessly to let you look at his back. Most of his bruises and scratches were already fading before your eyes, leaving fresh scars that would disappear soon as well, but one particular cut high on his shoulder was going to need sutures. You looked around at the tiny bathroom, there wasn’t really a lot of space to do this and it would have been more practical to get back at the lounging area and do his stitches comfortably in one of the sofas or something, but you selfishly didn’t want to give up your closeness, the illusion of intimacy the bathroom offered.

And you were a Stark, after all, you were selfish by nature, so you just pushed him softly until he was sitting back on the closed lid of the toilet. Then tapped at his knee so he would separate his legs further and stepped between them. You always marveled at how easily you were able to manhandle him, given his super strength. The knowledge that he was actively letting you do it made you feel exited and powerful in a way you didn’t fully understand yet, but it thrilled you nonetheless.

“Wha- what are you doing?” He stuttered from somewhere near your cleavage.

“Stitching you up, what does it look like?” You answered without stopping threading the surgical thread through the curved needle.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” You could practically feel the heath coming out of his, sure to be crimson, face. Despite you being as careful as you could, he still hissed in pain when the needle pierced through his skin.

“There, all better now”

“Sorry, I promise I’m trying to be gentle” You apologized, placing soft, soothing kisses on his hair. He hummed in acknowledgment against your breasts, sending goosebumps through your skin. You finished up, letting your fingers linger on his naked shoulder a little longer than necessary. After distractedly

discarding the needle you placed a little kiss on the unharmed skin beside the cut.

“Do you, now?”

He cleared his throat,

“I- um… I have other injures if you wanna, you know… kiss and make'em better” He suggested shyly. You smirked.

He nodded, looking up at you with the big brown innocent eyes that were your weakness.

“Show me.”

He gulped but obeyed, straitening up a little and pointing at his chest, were a red angry line had still to fade completely. You gave it a small peck. Next came a rather big, purple bruise on his ribcage, that you had to kneel on the floor in front of him in order to reach better. Then another, lower on his stomach, that had him biting his lip to stop from moaning. After the last one, right on the sharp bone of his hip, was taken care of, you stopped to look up at him from your position kneeling between his legs: He was breathing hard, chest heaving and slacked jawed, pupils blown wide with lust. You smoothed your hand over his lower abdomen, and watched appreciatively as the muscles there rippled under his skin. God, you were going to get in so much trouble for this! But as you hoisted yourself up the floor and went for the door, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Realization dawned on Peter’s eyes as you locked the door and turned around to face him.

“Happy is going to know exactly what we’re doing here. You know that, right?”

“You’re insane. And I must be crazy” He shook his head, cause there was no doubt about it, “I’m crazy for you”

“I know” You replied, “But I need you badly right now and I think… I think you need me too?” You added, almost timidly, vulnerably. And Peter felt his heart break inside his chest because of you again, but this time in a completely different way; because how? How could he be so cruel as to let you keep on

wondering if what you were feeling was one-sided? How could he deny you what the very blood inside his veins was screaming at him to give you? What every cell on his body was demanding at him to take in return?

The same kind of terrifying, exhilarating feeling that had taken over the both of you back in Paris returned with a vengeance, as he took a step towards you, caging you between his body and the closed door.

“You’re blushing” You pointed out.

He captured your lips, hands tangling on your hair, tilting your face just so, tongue licking at your bottom lip just before biting it, taking full advantage of the little moan that left your mouth to deepen the kiss and force another helpless sound out of your throat that had his head swimming.

One of his hands left your hair to caress your neck, thumb rubbing delicately the side of your jaw first, and your collarbone later, only to skim over the swell of your breast on his way down to finally rest above the little bow that tied your dress closed. He broke the kiss to look into your eyes; a silent request

for permission. You nodded, earning yourself one of those bright, boyish smiles of him that you loved so much it knocked the breath out of your chest every time in it’s intensity. He undid the knot felling like a little kid opening a birthday present, and let your dress fall open, exposing to him the lacy black bralette

and simple cotton panties you were wearing.

“I know” He replied, “I can feel my cheeks burning just thinking about what I want to do to you”

Whatever it was you’ve been expecting, that candid answer wasn’t it. Heath pooled low inside you.

“What are you waiting for?” You defied him.

“The new course has been set to London” You informed, “That gives us about an hour, almost enough time, don’t you think?” You joked.

“There isn’t time” He objected, eyes still roaming your body, fisting his hands to stop them from shaking from the effort of not letting them follow the path his eager eyes were tracing. You checked your Stark watch casually, as if standing half naked in front of Peter fucking Parker was something you did every

day.

“No,” He countered, “not even nearly” He attacked your lips again, hungry, hard. Strong arms found their rightful place around your waist, and Peter took a moment to awe at the way your body fit right in his hands, before easily lifting you up and placing you on the narrow counter as if you were weightless. You wrapped your legs around his hips, like you had a thousand times before, whenever he would take you swinging across the city on his webs. His touch felt searing, leaving fiery trails on it’s wake. A strangled moan left his lips as his hardened length made contact with your core, sending a wave of pleasure through both of your bodies. Despite his previous statement of not having time, his hands were slow, and his mouth was slower, the strokes of his tongue against your own in perfect tandem with the rocking of his hips against your center. He released your lips to suck a bruise on that little spot on your neck that he remembered making you do such pretty noises for him the last time, scrapping his teeth gently on the sensitive skin.

“Peter…”

“Peter, please,” You breathed “I’m ready…”

“Shhh…” He whispered hotly against the shell of your ear, “We’re gonna have to be really quiet, can you do that for me baby girl?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You felt his smile against your skin, right before he started dipping lower and lower, kissing reverently at your collarbone, sucking a mark right above your breast, latching his teeth on the strap of your bra and pulling it down your shoulder along with the sleeve of your dress, baring your left boob to his ministrations. He wasted no time in placing a little catlike lick on your nipple, pausing to hear your sharp intake of breath. Satisfied that that was the only sound you made, he started to suck in earnest, turning it into an even harder peak than it already was. You had to bit your lip to keep silent, holding onto his head to find some purchase and arched your back. He took the hint and nibbled tenderly, making you see stars.

He returned to devour your mouth, hooking his hands on the back of your knees and pulling you forward, to grind you harder onto his leather covered bulge. Those pants really left nothing to the imagination and you could feel him, huge and hot and angry and pulsing against your pussy. A wave of wetness leaked out of you and you could swear you felt his nostrils expand against your face. Could he actually smell your arousal?

“I’m not” He confessed against your jaw, pushing his hands further up the inside of your thighs, spreading you wider for him “I want to taste you. I didn’t have the chance at the lake, and it’s all I can think about. Can I taste you?” He pleaded, “Please, baby girl, say I can taste you…”

You couldn’t help to whine,

“Fuck yeah” You heard yourself answer.

That was all he needed, cause he immediately dropped to his knees and got to work, mouthing at your core through your underwear, massaging your clit with his tongue.

“Peter… please”

He smirked, looking up,

“Hush, you don’t want Happy to hear us…”

“I was right” He muttered between licks, “You taste like heaven. Want to know how delicious you taste, baby?”

“Don’t care…please” You could barely make sense but it didn’t matter, because at that moment, Peter finally pulled your panties to the side, and licked one long stripe along your slit. “Such a pretty pussy… so wet for me”, you heard him mutter to himself, almost in awe, before really delving into it, sucking and

licking into you as if he didn’t even need to breath. Which he probably didn’t, but you were long past coherent thought, his tongue thrusting deep inside you robbing you of it.

You nodded your head, because you would have done anything he wanted right then. He dipped one fingertip in your entrance and your legs trembled, so he adjusted his grip on you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He used his free hand to slide a finger inside you, collecting your juices, and took it out, reaching up to your lips and staring intently up at your face. You sucked it readily, tasting yourself and moaning, putting on a show for him.

It worked. You could swear you saw his pupils grow wide until there was almost no brown left. He buried his index finger inside you again, sucking delicately at your clit at the same time. He withdrew it slowly, only to glide it in again along a second one, thrusting deep. You were a thrashing mess above him, head banging against the mirror behind you every time your threw it back in pleasure. He didn’t relent on his assault, you could feel his strong tongue slipping inside along his fingers. You anchored yourself burying your own fingers on his hair, tugging hard whenever the tip of his tongue found that spot inside you, biting your lip so hard to keep from screaming that you were sure you’d drew blood. You felt the familiar warmth building and knew you were getting close, but he stopped and stood up, obscenely whipping your juices from his lips with the back of his hand.

You whined pitifully, but he was on you in a second, sucking and licking at your swollen, bloody lip, singing praise against your mouth,

“So good for me, so quiet… my good girl, my angel…” He framed your face with his hands, forcing you to meet his eye until the haze of lust cleared from yours somewhat and you were able to focus on him enough to understand what he was saying.

“Next time, I’ll feel you come on my tongue,” He promised, voice dark and husky with arousal, “but right now, I need to be inside you”

That was the best idea you had heard all summer, and you nodded your head enthusiastically,

“F-first… aid k-kit” You managed to get out. He reached out to your left and rummaged through the kit one handed, until he found the little box of condoms. He pulled one out and teared open the wrapper.

“Can I do it?” Your question took him by surprise, and he looked at you inquisitively. It had been a fantasy of yours for some time. You kind of just wanted to get your hands on his dick somehow ever since you had accidentally seen him naked on the med bay. He swallowed hard, but nodded once.

Eyes never leaving yours, he carefully, very slowly, undid the button and zipper of his pants. You would have called him a teased but you soon learned the reason of his cautiousness, and lifted an eyebrow.

“Going commando, Parker? Kinky, I like it”

He blushed. After all the sinful, dirty things he had just done to you, he actually, genuinely blushed.

“Shut up, it’s a really tight suit, pants wouldn’t go up if I wore underwear…”

Meanwhile, Peter couldn’t decide if he was being blessed or tortured. The sight of your small hands all over his big cock had to be the single hottest thing he had ever seen in his life, and would have been enough to make him come. As it was, he was sure the image was going to be branded forever on his brain, to come back and haunt him every night, when he was alone and feverish and sweaty on his bed, wishing it was your hand instead of his the one to bring him to completion.

“I’m not judging…” the rest of your sentence died in your throat as he freed himself from the pants. God, he was… impressive. Uncut, and not too long but thick, and you could perfectly remember how his girth felt stretching you and filling you like no one had before. You reached for him, starting to roll the

condom down his length. He twitched in your hands, and you felt your mouth water. You promised yourself that, next time, you would be the one tasting him.

But the actual feeling of you touching him? It was almost too much to take. You stroked him a couple times once the condom was firmly in place, and he could have died right there in your hands. And what a way to go would that have been, but then those hands were grabbing him and guiding him to your entrance, and his head was disappearing inside you, and he had to grab at the counter, burying his cry on your neck to stop from shooting his load. It took all the strength he had to stop himself from slamming into you, but he wanted you to feel it all; every single inch of him sinking slowly, excruciatingly slowly inside your heath, every second of him spearing you open.

He bottomed out, leaning back to meet your eyes as he, as slowly as he had entered you, withdrew from you almost all the way, until only his tip remained inside. He surged forward again, a little faster, building up a rhythm. Your pussy was perfection, swallowing him, hot and tight, wet and inviting and all his. He was going to make you all his, giving you just enough friction, filling you up so good, making you come so hard that you would forget everything but him, and the way he was thrusting in and out of you. Life would hold no meaning beyond coming on his cock again, and again… and again.

It was only payback, really; because for him, life no longer held any meaning beyond you, and your eyes, and your laugh, and your voice, and the way you were wrapping your legs and your arms around him.

And it felt like coming home… you were home… that was were he belonged: between your legs, forever.

“So perfect… taking my cock so well… my angel”

He was pounding into you earnestly now, and you were clutching at his shoulders, eyes glassy and unfocused, mouth open in a silent, perfect little oh, tiny frown on your face, as if so much pleasure was confusing. You looked so pure and innocent as he was fucking you… You were so perfect, and he had

been so close to screwing up so bad, with his stupid plan of getting over you using MJ. He didn’t deserve you, he knew he didn’t, but he wasn’t man enough to let you go. He wasn’t strong enough, or noble enough, to push you away, to set you free to find someone worthy of you. No, instead of that he wanted

you for himself, and with the gods as his witnesses, he was going to ruin you for anybody else. He made sure to grind his pubic bone into your clit with every stroke, one hand splayed around your back, pressing you close, rubbing your hard nipples on his torso, the lace covering one only adding to the sensations. You mewled almost inaudibly, still obeying his command to be silent. Yeah, you were perfect.

You weren’t sure he knew he was talking out loud, but it was electrifying anyway. He was so deep now, so hot inside you. Peter always had ran a core temperature slightly higher than normal, part of his peculiar metabolism, and it felt delicious. You couldn’t hold back a broken sob.

“Gonna come? Gonna come on my cock, my angel? Wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze me up,” he sucked your earlobe between his teeth, “Come on baby girl, let me feel it…”

You shook your head, because as good as it was feeling, you knew he was holding back. And you wanted everything.

“Please… Pete, please…”

“What is it, baby girl? Tell me what you need” He moved his hand to massage your exposed boob, fingers grazing your hard nipple, making you roll your eyes. It took you a few seconds to gather your thoughts again.

“Harder, fuck me harder…”

He moaned, but shook his head no.

“Don’t… don’t wanna hurt you”

“I can take it, I promise. Please…” You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate, wild, dirty open mouthed kiss, “Please, please, you know you want to…”

The truth was, Peter did want to. He wanted it harder, and faster, and deeper. He wanted to fuck you roughly, bury his mistakes deep between your legs, wanted to get lost in you and forget all about them. Wanted you to fuck away the pain, because only you could. He was close to breaking.

You licked into his open mouth, filthily,

“Please, I can take it, give it to me baby boy. I can take it, please…”

His free hand went to your neck, not squeezing, just resting, almost reverently. A primitive, possessive gesture.

“God, you beg so pretty” He growled, snaking one arm around your waist, lifting you up from the counter and impaling you on his cock hard, over and over. You had no purchase, no control at all, couldn’t do anything but hold onto him for dear life and take it as he was giving it to you.

And you fucking loved it.

“This what you wanted, angel? Getting fucked hard? Getting that sweet pussy destroyed?”

You didn’t answer, instead lowering your face a little, to be able to reach at two of the fingers holding your neck and sucking them into your mouth to muffle the screams that wanted to get out. Peter’s eyes went wide.

“Holy fucking shhh… baby girl you gonna make me…”

You released his fingers, biting your lips again. Peter pushed his thumb inside your mouth to make you stop.

“S-stop… baby girl… no hurting yourself… again. Me, bite me… instead”

“You’re hurt enough!” You refused.

“It’s different…” he was pistoning in and out of you mercilessly now “You’ll make it good… I know you’ll make it hurt so good…”

“Woah…” You were a little surprised to see he was breathing as hard as you, didn’t he had like, super- human stamina or something? “That was…”

One particularly vicious thrust of his hips later, and you were latching your teeth on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, biting down hard trying to drown your cry of ecstasy as galaxies exploded behind your eyes. He cursed, felling you flutter and tighten around him. He gave a couple last, uncoordinated thrusts before his knees buckled and he fell back sitting on the closed toilet, as he came.

You were still straddling him, still connected.

“I know” You were almost purring, complete sated, a puddle in his arms as he ran his hands up and down your back. He groaned and hid his face in your neck.

“We are so dead! There’s no way Happy didn’t hear that…”

“I know!” You chuckled, the vibrations producing a different kind of groan from Peter, who was still very much hard and ready inside you.

“You’re still…”

“I know!” His words were stifled against your neck, “I told you there wasn’t enough time…”

You leaned back to be able to look at him, a little lost for words. The sheepish look on his face, however, had you breaking into a full laugh.

“So, there’s that super-human stamina!”

“What?”

“Nothing,” You replied, trying to calm down for his benefit. He looked so unsure, probably thinking there was something wrong with him when in fact it was the opposite, he could be so self deprecating sometimes “I just realized I have the perfect boyfriend.”

His whole face lit up,

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“Yes, boyfriend” You confirmed, peppering his face with little, adoring kisses, “My hot,” kiss “strong,” kiss “brilliant boyfriend”

“I like the sound of that…” He smiled, placing one last, chaste kiss on your forehead before helping you stand up, groaning a little as he slipped out of you.

“Good. Now, would my boyfriend help me find my panties, cause…” You trailed off as he picked a piece of fabric the color of your underwear from the floor with the guiltiest look on his face.

“Sorry,” he said without meeting your eyes, “I must have torn them apart at some point during our…”

The fact that he couldn’t bring himself to say the word fucking after all his dirty talk while you were, well, fucking, shouldn’t have been so endearing.

“Babe,” He perked up at the nickname, sounding so right out of your lips, “never, ever apologize for tearing my clothes out of my body.” You finished, as sternly as you could. His musical laugh filled thebathroom,

“Duly noted, baby girl…”

After you and Peter cleaned up and redress, you left the tiny bathroom only to find the main room of the jet completely deserted, a note on one of the tables the only sign of Happy Hogan’s presence.

“Item 23A” Peter read out loud, “What does it even mea…”

The jet’s secret on board lab was opening up and presenting the new armor to him before he even finished the question.

“Wow, mister Stark certainly outdid himself this time!” Peter admired the new suit that fitted him as a second skin.

“Mister Stark? Oh no, babe,” You corrected, your own suit materializing around you in the exact same way his did around him, “that one was all me…”

Before Peter could say the praise that without a doubt was about to leave his mouth, your dad’s voice resounded on his coms.

“Mister Parker! So nice of you to finally join us!” Tony’s voice was dripping sarcasm, and Peter hurried to apologize.

“Mister Stark! Before anything else I would like to tell you that I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-…”

“Zip it, Underoos, we’ll talk about the defiling of my plane later, Happy is traumatized…”

“What? No!” Peter was thrown, “Well, I mean, yes, sorry bout that too, but I was talking about EDITH…”

“No need to apologize for that, kid” Tony’s tone softened, “Quentin Beck is a manipulative, psychotic, megalomaniac piece of shit, and if I had agreed to meet with Fury just once, I could have told him that and save us all this trouble. This one is on me…”

“Dad, come on, that’s not-…”

“Nu-uh, young lady, I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, I will deal with you after Fishbowlhead is dead. What is it with you and that plane, anyway? Every time you decide to try and give me a heart attack, it has something to do with that plane…”

“Hey! How do you know it was my fault? Peter is here too, you know?”

Your boyfriend threw you a betrayed look, but your father laughed,

“Oh, really? Peter decided to seduce you in the bathroom?”

Your silence was all the answer he needed.

“That’s what I thought, don’t ever try to lie to my face again, little miss.”

“Technically, it wasn’t to your face…” you protested.

“Don’t get smart with me, y/n…” your father’s tone was warning.

“I can’t help it, I’m always smart.”

“Yeah, well, you are also grounded” He declared, but you could hear the smile in his voice. He could never stay mad at you for too long, and when Peter stole a glance of your lovely eyes shinning with mischief, he kinda understood him: You had your father wrapped around your little finger, just like you had him.

“Now, if you both are done interrupting me, we have work to do. Team, report your situation” Tony Stark commanded, all humor gone from his voice.

“Team? What?”

Peter’s bewildered voice has cut off by a familiar, irreverent one,

“Ironlad in position, ready to begin” Harley Keener informed, vibrating with enthusiasm through the coms.

“Stature in position too, just finished with the evacuation, sir” Cassie Lang’s more serious notes reached your ears and you couldn’t help but smile. These were your friends, these was your team. You knew what they were capable of, and you knew that, no matter what, they would have your back.

“Ironheart, you’re next, you know what to do, tell me as soon you get visual of your target” Your father ordered, and for what was probably the first time in your life, you obeyed at once, ejecting your self from the plane.

“Alright, then, I’m rebooting EDITH and flushing out Mysterio’s malware out of the system, the Stark drones are going offline but he still has his own, so it shouldn’t be easy but be careful non the less.

Peter, I’m sending the Baby Monitor Protocol’s footage of your previous fight with Mysterio when he confessed his evil plan to you to every news network in the planet, just giving you a heads up. He wants to be the biggest hero in the world? Too bad, because we are going to expose him as the fraud he is. He’s all yours kid, kick his ass, Spider-Man! And let’s do this as quick and clean as we can, children: Today is the day the world meets the Young Avengers!”

A chorus of cheers and exited exclamations reached his ears, and Peter couldn’t help the smile that spreaded through his face,

“Yes, sir! We’ll make you proud!”

“Oh, and one more thing” Tony added, closing the comes to everyone but Peter, “Protect my little girl out there, would you?”

Part one Part two

Peter didn’t know what possessed him, later he would reason he was still high on the afterglow, drunk on you and the way you had of making him feel invincible. Whatever the reason, his answer to his

mentor’s request had been,

“With all due respect, sir, she is my girl now”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #stark!reader #stark! daughter #far from home #far from home fix it #spiderman imagine #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader

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primasveraas-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Finnpoe Modern AU- Single Dad!Poe- PART 3

AHH here it is!! I’m really happy with how it turned out; thank you again to the darling Eliane who sparked the orginal idea. The brunt of the story is done, but I hope (and suspect) that I will be returning to this AU soon, in the form of more headcanons or one shots.

I hope you enjoy! All requests are currently open.

Part One l Part Two l Part Three

XXX

Poe buys Finn a drink

...then Finn buys Poe a drink, then Poe buys them both drinks because Finn is on a teacher’s salary and the only gay bar within a reasonable distance gets away with overpriced beer

Poe learns rather quickly that Finn is more than just an incredibly attractive teacher who’s good with his son- Finn is also shy, and humble. Kind and honest. Slightly giggly when tipsy and rather close in proximity after 3 beers

There comes a point when Poe’s chest aches from laughing and he almost puts his hand on Finn’s knee- he almost leans in- then he remembers himself

Buying his son’s teacher a beer is fine- he likes Finn and so does BB

Kissing his son’s teacher is an entirely separate matter

Poe clears his throat abruptly, and he can feel the heat rushing to his already-warm cheeks as he straightens, pulling away from the other man

Finn pulls back too, a split second of hurt flashing across his face

“I’m sorry,” Poe says thickly, wondering how quickly he can flee the scene without seeming like a total ass, and Finn shakes his head

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, unable to fully meet Poe’s eyes. “I should probably get back to Rey, anyways”

Finn stands, and Poe blurts out “it was good to talk with you-” before he can think any of it through

Finn stops, turning back to look at him. He smiles, briefly, then says: “it was”

Poe is still sitting at the bar when Rey and Finn leave

Poe pretends he’s not watching them go

The upside to the next day is that his hangover is very mild, and that BB waits until 7am to wake him up instead of jumping into Poe’s bed at his usual 6am

Small blessings, even on a Saturday

They have a good day, and Poe is able to bury all his worries and regrets about Finn until BB does his homework

(he has to color in a hand turkey and he and Poe are both covered in glitter and ink by the end of it)

But the craft is enough for BB to start talking about school, which he does, pieces of glitter falling to the floor one by one as he signs

We do lots of art in Luke’s class and Finn helps me. He is nice and he brings in candy sometimes. He never rushes me or worries like Mr. C does and he is learning ASL very fast and sometimes he lets us stay out for recess for an extra three minutes and he will push us on the tire swing-

So Poe adds to his list of the way he can describe Finn- adored by his son. Generous. A total sucker for cute kids. Endlessly patient, a quick learner, a sweet tooth… off-limits.

What does he know about Finn, from a few hours of talking and stories from his son? Is it enough to justify his pining?

It doesn’t matter, in the end. At best, he and Finn are friends, and Poe has only BB’s best interests in mind- everything else is secondary to his son

The guilt and ache fade, for the most part. He sees Finn here and there, and the two men keep it friendly and brief

At parent-teacher conferences, Finn barely looks at Poe

It stings in the fall, but even that wound has healed when spring comes. Finn is still removed, a little less open, but he manages a small smile when Poe catches his gaze during the last conference that year

Summer arrives, and Poe has almost stopped dreaming of kissing Finn entirely

There’s a small celebration to celebrate the end of the school year, hosted by one of the PTA moms

BB takes off with some of the kids immediately, leaving Poe to his own devices

He’s half-heartedly participating in a discussion about gluten-free sugar cookies with some of the parents while watching BB chase his friends around the yard

He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see Finn standing there, smiling

“I wanted to tell you what a delight it was to teach BB this year,” Finn says, “and that I’m sorry I won’t have longer with him.”

Poe starts, brow furrowing in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m teaching preschool next year,” Finn says, looking down at his feet before glancing up at Poe again. “I originally applied to work with younger kids, but they didn’t have an opening until next fall.”

“So you’re not teaching BB anymore?” Finn shakes his head. “He’ll be devastated.”

Finn frowns, sadness filling his eyes, but Poe nudges him with his elbow, grinning softly

“I’m happy for you Finn, really. BB loved working with you.”

“I loved it too.” Finn is quiet, serious, and his voice falters before Finn goes silent. He blinks rapidly, and Poe realizes just how much Finn cares about his students

“We’ll have to have you over for dinner. To thank you.”

Finn’s eyes widen, wetness replaced with a brilliant spark. His mouth opens, then there’s the unmistakable sound of children colliding, a solid thud followed by squeals, giggles, and shouts

Poe sighs, looking around for BB, despite knowing in his heart of hearts that BB is almost always involved in whatever shenanigans are happening

“I should go.” Poe rests his hand on Finn’s arm. “We’ll work out a date later,” he says, winking before he turns around to chase after his son

When the time comes, BB is excited as Poe is nervous- he insists on helping with the cooking, which slows things significantly, if only because Poe has to sign each recipe and he runs circles around the small kitchen hovering over his son

BB has little regard for things like measurements or cation around a hot stove- about halfway through cooking the pasta needed for an old family recipe, BB tries to grab a noodle out of the boiling pot

Poe pulls his hand back just in time, rambling warnings and curses in Spanish and signing his worries and reliefs rapidly in ASL

BB stares up at him innocently, and Poe melts

He also puts his son on his back, so Poe finishes the cooking with a seven-year-old pointing where to go and what to do

They both have to squeeze in a shower before Finn arrives, as they’re each covered in sweat and sauce and flour

(Poe finds a bit of salsa behind BB’s ear as he towels his son off, and he sighs)

Poe is dressing when the door rings. First, he hears BB tearing down the hall, his feet thundering, then the door opening- Poe follows his son, finishing the last buttons on his shirt, then Finn is in his living room, BB tugging on his hand to bring Finn into the apartment

“Hi,” Finn says, kneeling down to hug BB

“Hi,” Poe says, and his heart flutters like it did a year ago, when he saw Finn for the very first time

It progresses from there because BB loves Finn, and Poe believes in love at first sight, even if he can’t admit it yet

(He loves Finn too)

Dinners with Luke, Leia, and Finn resume, in addition to meals whenever BB demands that Finn eat with them

(It’s been too long, Dad, BB will say. You and Finn are lonely without each other)

Poe doesn’t know how much he can disagree with his son, partly because BB is largely right, and partly because BB has Poe wrapped around his finger

Even so, it’s nearly a month before Poe asks Finn out properly, with no children or bosses to accompany them

Finn accepts in an instant

Dating Finn is nice- for one, he fits into Poe’s life easily- but he also validates the months Poe spent dreaming of the impossible scenario where he and Finn could finally be together, because dating Finn is better than Poe ever imagined

Finn is funny, more sarcastic than Poe had realized, direct and curious and teasing. Deeply loving and loyal and defensive and stubborn, and also a good kisser, with perpetually warm hands that always find their way into Poe’s grip

That summer is glorious, and none of them- Poe, nor BB, nor Finn- want it to end. It is the beginning of all wonderful things

Poe accepts quickly but with relative uncertainty, that Finn will be Poe’s boyfriend long before he will become one of BB’s caretakers

Finn is good with BB- he speaks ASL and understands his son better than most, and Poe is forever grateful he never had to navigate a wide dating pool as a single father, mostly because he’s certain there’s very, very few people worth bringing home to BB

Even with adjustment periods and the time it takes to figure out how exactly Finn fits into their lives, BB is wildly fond of Finn, who spoils him and makes him laugh

You smile lots when Finn is around BB says one day

Is that good? Poe signs back. Do you like when Finn is around?

Finn makes me happy BB says, and Poe knows that’s all that ever matters

November comes with an with the first snow; BB complains that he misses seeing Finn at school, but he sees Finn every weekend and most weekdays, so he’s satisfied, even if Mr. C is stuffy and old, but nice I guess

They are comfortable together- things are calm, settled into the new school year- and Poe figures he knows what to expect from life with a hyperactive seven year old and a boyfriend he’s hopelessly in love with

What’s unexpected, however, is the call he gets at 3am on a Friday night- or rather, the 6 missed calls, and the one that Poe finally picks up, his heart pounding wildly when he sees Finn’s name on the screen

He hit a pole, Finn explains, because he swerved to avoid hitting a cat

“I’m fine, honestly, Poe, the airbags went off and I was wearing my seatbelt and most of the damage is on the passenger side-”

Finn is fine, he promises, but his car is damaged fairly badly and also Finn rescued the cat, who is also fine, and they have no way to get home

So, Poe wraps BB in a blanket and carries him out to the car, and together they pick up Finn off the street in the dead of night

In five months of dating, it’s the first time Finn spends the night at Poe’s apartment with BB there

Finn sleeps on the couch, next to the makeshift nest of blankets where the kitten finally falls asleep

BB spends his Saturday writing a list of names for the kitten, who is entrusted to his care (and Poe’s) while Finn makes endless calls to a towing company and his insurance, and the bank and the local vet

Finn spends the next night, too, because he doesn’t want to move the cat, who is young and probably scared, and very attached to Poe and BB already

On Sunday, Finn goes to the vet to see if the cat is missing or chipped, and Finn leaves with a purring kitten that belongs only to him

BB is then allowed to name the cat officially; he becomes D-O, much to Finn’s amusment and Poe’s exasperation

(BB doesn’t deign to explain this decision, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask BB why this name was chosen more than ten times)

By then, they’ve also agreed that Finn will stay with BB and Poe until Finn’s car is fixed, so Poe can drive Finn to work, and so that D-O can stay with BB a little longer

Finn sleeps on the couch Sunday night, but BB sneaks out of bed to cuddle with the cat, and Poe finds them Monday morning, BB curled in Finn’s arms, D-O snuggled at their feet

Poe takes a picture before rousing them for school, and the picture is first the background on his phone, then printed and framed on the wall of their first home together

A smaller copy is slipped into his wallet, too, so that the three of them are with him, always

BB cries at the end of the week, when Finn has his car again, and he and D-O are ready to go home

(By Christmas, Poe has given Finn a key to the apartment, and by Feburary, they’re looking for a place to share together)

When BB turns eight, the three (four) of them move into the apartment that becomes their first home as a family, and it marks another beginning for them all

When BB turns ten, his father gets married, and he with his grandfather walk Poe down the aisle

Poe and BB are a family. This fact was slow and learned, but absolute all the same and Finn, still gradually, but just as certainly, becomes their family too

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that-girl-over-there-ffn · 4 years ago

Text

you’ve got the love

[i wrote this a few years ago when i was still working on the affinity and chaos project, but never posted it. but ep 5 of wandavision made me dig through the old files, so here it is.] The metallic sweet taste that could only be her husband, the tingling current that passed between their lips, and the serenity of his psyche embracing hers. Had Wanda known when she first met Vision that this was what kissing him would be like, she likely would've jumped him right in front of everyone at Stark Tower.

Vision chuckled against her lips at the thought of Pietro attempting to reason with his crazed sister as she clung to the newly born synthezoid. Leaning back above her, his eyes analyzed Wanda's brilliant smile. As the breaking daylight illuminated the room, she appeared almost angelic with her hair splayed out over the crisp white sheets.

Wanda blushed, turning away. 'You romanticize too much.'

"I am in bed with the woman I love," he whispered as he brushed a lock of hair from her shoulder. "Is this not the time for such ideas?"

With a happy hum, Wanda leaned forward, brushing her lips against his skin. Peppering slow, hot kisses and small nips down his neck, her hands roamed over the taut muscles of his back and shoulders. While his heavy sighs danced in her ears, his knee settled between her legs, which she hungrily moved against.

Trailing a path down her abdomen, his fingers dipped below her waist, sliding between her legs. Carefully, he grazed against her nub once, twice, before pulling away, resting a palm against her thigh. Restlessly, her hips twisted, pressing against him, desire building.

"Please," she breathed. 'No more teasing...'

Vision hadn't the discipline, nor the will, to deny her. 'You need only ask, my love.' His lips ghosted down her jaw and neck, between her breasts. With each slow, simple kiss against her flesh, he paused to gaze up at her beneath his brow.

Wanda's chest heaved, catching Vision's haughty smirk grow as he descended lower beneath the sheet. His eyes bore into hers as he hovered over her waist. As her legs spread wider in invitation, she wondered if he was awaiting another request when the metallic clink of the doorknob turning pierced the air.

And the spell was broken.

"Mom! Dad!" Young William and Thomas bounded into the room.

Wanda recoiled, effectively kneeing Vision in the face as she let loose a quick Sokovian curse and yanked the sheet over her chest. "Boys!" she cried, irritated. "What is the rule about our bedroom door?"

"It's an emergency!" they both chanted.

"What emergency?" Vision inquired as he half phased above the sheet covering him.

"There's a dog outside!" Billy grinned below his brown mop of hair.

"Yeah," Tommy added. "It's like, a puppy, I think."

"It doesn't have a collar!"

"We looked."

"Can we keep it?"

"It's really nice."

"Billy fed it a piece of bread."

"We'll take care of it!"

"Wait," Tommy paused, pushing his white-blond bangs aside. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing!" Wanda declared before hastily asking, "Where is the dog?"

"We let it in the gate!"

"So it wouldn't get hit by a car!"

"I wanna name it Tiger."

"Boys," Vision calmly interrupted. "Your mother and I will be downstairs in a few minutes to assess this canine. In the meantime, I must ask you to please leave. Now."

"Are you cranky because we woke you up?"

"Yes," Wanda sighed, slightly annoyed. "Now out. And don't let the dog in the house."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, sorry, mom," they both apologized as they closed the door behind them.

Letting loose a groan, Wanda fell back against the mattress. "My god, it's like they have some kind of radar," she huffed.

"In addition to their known abilities?" Vision queried as he gracefully landed beside her. "Unlikely."

"No?" Wanda chuckled before she examined his cheek. "I'm sorry, Vizh. Are you alright?"

"I am unharmed," he replied. Pulling the sheet down, he caressed her knee. "You, however, will likely bruise, I'm afraid."

"Hm," she hummed as her body turned to his. "But I'll live?"

Vision's hand moved up her thigh, pulling her closer. "Yes," he breathed before she kissed him. "The boys will be preoccupied with the dog for a few minutes, I suspect."

"How many minutes?" Wanda pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips.

Leaning up, he wrapped his arms around her, "Enough."

Several blissful minutes later, Vision had finally risen, seeking a clean shirt from the closet.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wanda watched her husband as he dressed. The flexing of his muscles as he moved, his graceful hands buttoning his Oxford, it was a not-so-secret pleasure of hers.

Vision hid a small smile, fully aware he was being observed. "What do you wish to do about this dog?"

Burying her head under a pillow, she mumbled, "Put it in the neighbor's yard when the boys aren't looking."

Vision disregarded her comment as he looped his belt though his trousers. "I will inspect it then."

"Right behind you," Wanda murmured, head still buried.

Gracefully, Vision moved beside the bed, pulled the pillow aside and kissed her crown. "I love you," he whispered, just as he did every morning.

"I love you," she breathed, eyes still closed. After she heard the subtle open and close of the door, Wanda turned over, sprawled out on her back with a heavy sigh. Summer vacation had just begun and already she was wishing for autumn. While she loved spending more time with the boys, it came at a cost. As she sat up, she felt an uncertain nudge from Vision's psyche.

'Wanda, this is no dog,' his voice whispered in her mind.

'What do you mean?' she replied.

'That is to say,' Vision explained, 'It is not a domesticated canine.' And with that, he projected the image of the animal in their backyard through his eyes.

Abruptly, Wanda bolted to her feet. 'Vision, that's a coyote!'

'Yes, I'm aware,' he replied nonchalantly. 'Although how a coyote managed to wander this far into the city alludes—'

'Oh my god, get the boys inside!' Throwing on a robe, she ripped open the door and descended down the stairs.

From the window, Vision and his sons watched as Wanda spoke with animal control. The two men had been apprehensive at first, arriving at the brownstone residence of the powerful Scarlet Witch clad in her bathrobe, scolding her android husband, The Vision, and their two peculiar sons. But once the pup had been safely secured, a flood of relief lightened her mood and the workers felt more at ease. Most people, Vision had noted over the years, naturally feared Wanda ... until they witnessed her smile.

As she entered the house, she sighed, "I'm going to get dressed." Without another word, she ascended the stairs.

Wisely, all three observed her exit in silence.

"Come," Vision instructed his sons, once he heard the shut of the bedroom door. "If we are to survive the remainder of this morning, coffee must be brewed."

Once in the kitchen, the boys collected the creamer and sugar as Vision set about filling the carafe, "We will discuss this morning's events."

"Okay," they replied in unison.

"You are expected to abide by the rules of this house. One of them being the rule pertaining to closed doors," Vision explained matter-of-factly. "Do you recall what it is?"

"Knock before you open a door," Tommy recited.

"Very good. And what about your mother's room?"

"Off limits unless it's an emergency," Billy said.

"Correct again."

"Are you mad?"

"No." Hesitating for a moment, Vision contemplated, "I am both pleased and proud of your actions, you should always lend aid when you can. But you must always remember to be cautious."

"We just wanted to help."

"It was just a puppy."

"Yes, I'm aware," Vision patted his sons on the head. "However, frightened animals react most unpredictably - it could have bitten you. And I dare not imagine what your mother would do to any creature that harmed you."

Vision paused as the floorboards above them creaked, indicating Wanda was on her way down. "Do you understand what I am conveying?"

"Yes," both boys replied.

"Excellent," he beamed. "Now, I recommend apologizing to your mother. I believe you gave her quite the fright."

As Wanda entered the kitchen, intent on more scolding and possibly murder, she was abruptly halted by two things. The first being the rich caffeinated aroma in the air, her favorite crutch. The second being her sons latching onto her waist, her favorite humans.

"Sorry, mom," Billy said while Tommy added, "About the dog."

Glancing up, Wanda shot her husband a pseudo glare. He simply gave her a warm smile that she couldn't help but return.

#scarlet vision #fanfic

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lostinspidey · 5 years ago

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when my heart heals, it beats for you | peter parker

summary/request: “hi i have an ffh request! could you write about peter calling stark!reader instead of happy to come rescue him, but due to all the mysterio illusions he doesn't trust the reader at first?”

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was meant to be a shorter blurb but then... this happened. i guess i had a lot of Feelings about this scene and this concept and general, so thanks to whoever requested this for giving me an excuse to write them all out! gif was made by @pterparkcr :-)

warning(s): FFH SPOILERS!!!, if you’ve seen the film you know there’s gonna be some angst

“so let me get this straight,” happy says, watching warily from the doorway of your bedroom as you throw some belongings into your backpack: passport, band-aids, a bottle of painkillers. through the quickened breaths and troubled tone, you remember how strained peter’s voice sounded on the phone a mere twenty minutes ago. you’re almost sure he needs them.

you raise your eyebrows. “happy, please don’t give me a hard time about this.”

“peter calls you, asks you for help picking him up from the netherlands, of all places,” he continues, folding his arms over his chest. “so naturally, you call me?”

“uh, yeah.”

you struggle to zip up your backpack - it’s nearly filled to the brim with whatever first aid supplies were lying around the house.

happy lets out a sharp, exasperated breath. “can i ask why?”

“because,” you sling your backpack over your shoulder. “you’re the only person i know who can fly one of dad’s jets.”

he doesn’t have a response for that.

luckily, the jet - with its stark industries logo recently repainted - is already parked outside, just a couple hundred yards from your house in a clearing that overlooks the lake. as you and happy make the small trek towards the aircraft and climb onboard, you try not to think too hard about how, exactly, peter’s voice sounded during your brief phone call. how you, just as frightened as he was, could do little to calm him down.

“alright, y/n, i just entered the coordinates and it looks like it’ll take us a little less than three hours to get there. you’re not forgetting anything, are you?”

i - i messed up, y/n. i need your help.

“y/n?”

happy looks at you over the back of his chair. you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, avoiding his worried gaze. with how much movement your body and brain have been through the past thirty minutes or so, sitting still seems impossible.

“i should’ve gone on the trip,” you whisper.

happy sighs, twisting his body to get a better look at you.

“don’t go blaming yourself. peter wouldn’t want that.”

you shake your head insistently, staring down at your shaky hands. “he - he asked if i wanted to go on the trip, you know. i told him i wasn’t ready to leave home after everything that’s happened but i know - i just know - that dad would’ve wanted me to keep an eye on him instead of selfishly staying here -“

“y/n,” happy interrupts. “do you really flying halfway across the world to save somebody is selfish?”

your lips quirk up a bit.

“technically, you’re the one who’s flying,” you joke.

happy chuckles, giving you a small, supportive nod before beginning the proper steps towards takeoff. you’re glad he’s here; glad that you’re not stuck in a crowded airport surrounded by people who can’t even begin to understand what’s going on. not that you really do, either.

predictably, the plane ride feels much longer than two hours and forty-eight minutes. the minute happy is turned back around, you slump down in your seat, trying to busy yourself with your phone or the book you remembered to stuff in your backpack. it’s your favorite, its pages ripped and torn after having been flipped through so many times.

it reminds you too much of peter, with his rough edges and the way he never fails to make you happy. you toss it into the seat next to you and hope that staring out the window will be enough of a distraction.

i really need your help, y/n. please.

it’s hard not to think about your father, either. you inherited his protectiveness, among other things, and while being tony stark’s daughter has always been a lot to live up to, none of that has mattered as much as being a kind person. that’s all your dad really cared about, anyway. you can’t shake the feeling that by letting peter venture off to another country alone, you’ve really let him down.

you clench the arms of your seat, and somehow time moves faster now that you’ve managed to dream up enough false hope that maybe, just maybe, peter’s okay. because in a way, he kind of has to be.

and then, finally, you see it: through the fading clouds, a vibrant tulip field that is most definitely too beautiful for the situation you’re in. happy lands the jet in a bright batch of yellows and pinks, and after its wheels hit the ground, you can’t help but notice how quiet it is.

too quiet.

“um, happy?” you join him in the cockpit, scanning the field for any sign of movement. “are you sure this is right?”

“these are the coordinates for the location you gave me.”

you glance around more fervently. panic rises in your chest as the seconds go by, as the tulip field starts to feel more and more empty.

“happy.” you can feel your breath hitch, eyes starting to water. “i don’t see him.”

“relax, y/n. please. i’m sure he’s on his -”

“oh my god,” you whisper.

happy gets quiet, too, his gaze seeming to settle on the same spot right when yours does.

from across the field you can see peter - your peter - except he’s clearly not the way he was when he left, so it almost feels wrong calling him that. he limps towards the jet, eyes squinting in the beaming sun. his arm is wrapped right around his middle, and you know it’s because he’s trying to hold himself together in more ways than one.

the closer he gets, you start to notice how much blood is caked on his face.

“door’s open,” happy tells you urgently. you didn’t notice your ears were ringing until his voice slices through the high-pitched noise. “bring him inside. hurry.”

somehow, your legs carry you through the length of the jet and descend down the stairs. peter’s a lot closer now, but you still sprint towards him, leaping over batches of tulips you don’t want to crush with your feet until you finally, finally, end up in front of him.

at first, you can’t help the way your face twists in concern. he’s completely torn up, dried blood and grime flaking and falling from his skin. your eyes trail over the fresh bruises on his arms, the long scrape against his cheekbone.

“peter,” you choke out, throwing your arms around his neck forcefully. he loses his balance a bit but manages to catch you, face buried into your shoulder.

“it’s okay, it’s alright.” you squeeze him tighter, balling up the back of his shirt with your fists. “i - i’m so, so sorry for whatever’s happened to you, but everything’s fine. i’m here now, okay bug? we’re gonna get you home.”

but when you pull away enough to get another look at his face, it’s clear the boy is in a state of complete shock. confusion. he’s looking at you the same way someone would look at a foreign object.

the unsureness in his eyes is enough for you to drop your arms back down to your sides.

“peter,” you say slowly. “what is it?”

“how do i know it’s really you?” he asks, voice quavering. the terror in his voice is much more prominent than it was on the phone. it makes your heartbeat quicken.

you blink. “i - what? what do you mean?”

“i-i mean,” he gulps, nearly reaching for you before letting his arms fall. “are you real? like, are - are you really standing in front of me right now?”

“what are you talking about? of course i’m real.”

a wince possesses his face, turning soft features into stone. you study them until it gets to be too much for peter, who uncomfortably takes a small step away from you.

“peter, look at me,” you urge, and you wait until he does to continue. “i’m real, see? the jet’s real. look at these pretty flowers. they’re real, too, baby.”

“prove it,” he whispers, eyes filling up with tears.

“prove it how?”

“tell me something about me. a-about us. something only you would know.”

“alright, okay. let me think.” you let out a deep breath, glancing around the tulip field, the leaf-filled trees that remind you of home. “oh! i’ve got it.”

peter raises his eyebrows, still more than a little distrusting of you. you run a hand through your hair as you try to descramble the words in your brain.

“remember that one time we went hiking through the woods by my house?” you ask, staring deep into his eyes, searching for any sign of clarity. “you saw a huge spider and accidentally killed it and you swore me to secrecy in case it violated some kind of spider-slash-spider-man code that would cause all the spiders in the world to suddenly turn against you, and -”

he takes a step forward, nearly sweeping you off your feet as he wraps you in a much more willing embrace than before. he lets out a mixture between a sob and a laugh into your shoulder, hands frantically tangling in your hair.

it’s like he’s urging you to hold onto him - to anchor him to the ground, to the reality you’re both experiencing, no matter how messy and unstable it is right now.

“it’s you,” he breathes. “it’s really you.”

the sheer relief in his voice makes you cry a bit, too. “yes, love, it’s really me.”

you allow yourself to melt into him, into his familiar arms that are too soft for being so strong, and adjust to the fact that peter’s actually here. he’s here. he’s safe. clearly broken and scarred, but as long as he’s within reach, that should be enough for you to put him back together again.

“i missed you so much,” he says, pulling the words right out of your brain.

you nod, hands starting to rub his back comfortingly. “i should’ve come.”

“believe me, babygirl, i’m so glad you decided not to.”

you’re about to ask him what that could mean - what in god’s name is going on in the first place - when a gust of wind blows, a chill running down your spine. he pulls you in tighter, fingers running down your arms until the goosebumps subside.

“you made fun of me for weeks after that hike.” he chuckles, then sniffles, and you don’t mind the way he probably just wiped his nose against your shirt. “r-remember that, too?”

“mhm. remember how you tripped over that huge log on the way back?”

“gosh. what an embarrassing day for me.”

you draw back a bit, pushing a stray curl behind his ear, smiling at the way he leans into your touch. “i guess i could’ve been a bit nicer about it.”

he shakes his head. “don’t worry about it. it was pretty funny.”

he gives you a watery smile, hands settling against your shoulders, and this is the peter you know and love - the one that stares at you this earnestly, touches you this gently. he’s only been gone for a few days, and so much as probably changed, but never peter. he’ll always be the wide-eyed boy you would travel halfway across the world for.

then something shifts in his gaze a bit, and you frown, placing a tender hand on his cheek.

“peter, it really is me. i promise. i - i don’t know who has you convinced i’m not me but i am.”

“i know,” he says, then mutters it again to himself quietly. “i know.”

for a moment it’s quiet again. another breeze blows, chilling your spine all over again, but you don’t let it distract you from peter’s stare. you can tell that something huge is still gnawing at him, that he still has a lot to fear for. and now, so do you.

you use your hands to guide his face closer to yours, his skin warm beneath your careful touch, and you’re not sure who leans in first. all you know is that you end up kissing him, the knots in your stomach unwinding with every movement of his mouth against yours.

“o-okay, yeah, this definitely feels real,” he breathes, causing the two of you to laugh against each other’s lips.

you lean back in and kiss him until all the uncertainty seems to fade, until his arms are no longer stiff as they remain draped around your waist. until he pulls away and looks at you with a renewed sense of hope, a slightly bigger smile on his face.

“now,” you raise your eyebrows, affectionately brushing your fingertips over the bruises and cuts on his right cheek. the last thing you want to do is get down to business; you’d rather sit peter on the plane and take him someplace he feels safe, or at the very least keep standing in this very spot, arms snug and secure around each other.

but you’re almost certain happy is watching you from the cockpit, wondering what on earth is taking so long.

“you’ve got some serious explaining to do,” you tell him.

he nods, looking back down at his feet.

“if only i knew where to begin.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #ffh spoilers

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hotchscotchh · 4 years ago

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Reimagined; Chapter 12 - Arthur Rykov

This time it feels like an ending and it kind of is. This will be the last chapter before the epilogue! I want to get sappy, but I’ll save it for the next chapter. I have ideas for my next multi-chapter fic, but I think I want to do a rewrite of this first. I love the storyline, but the first few chapters are…. Not Good. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: I told you I have a soft spot for team finds out fics…

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, mentions of NSFW

Word count: 2.1k

Chapter 11 —— epilogue

Read on AO3

Based on 8x3 Through the Looking Glass

Spencer had thought this case would be hard on Aaron, but it turns out it was worse for himself. He was the one who had to sit through the closing interview with the Acklin’s. He had to hear every single detail of what happened to them. He had to sift through every single one of their insecurities and wrong doings. Analyze why the unsub had chosen this family based on their specific “sins.” The thought of their actions being referred to as sins was what was hurting him the most. He knew, reasonably, that Tobias Hankel had kidnapped him as a kind of victim of opportunity and because Spencer was and is an FBI agent, but he’s always wondered if there was some way for some people to see your sins written on you. He knows he isn’t a sinner (he doesn’t believe in God, how can he be?), but sometimes irrational thoughts even get the best of geniuses.

The so called “sin” that held the most weight on him was institutionalizing his mother. He would never forgive himself for the way things went when it happened. He knew it needed to be done, that it was what was best for her. He couldn’t take care of her, and she couldn’t take care of herself. He will always feel selfish for it, though. For the way he just had the men from the Bennington invade her home and take her from it. He should’ve told her it was happening. Given her some kind of warning. But who knows if that would have been any better? It was too late to do anything to change it now.

Aaron noticed on the jet ride home that Spencer was much quieter and more reserved than usual (meaning he just wasn’t talking at all). They hadn’t told the team yet and Aaron knew he couldn’t just scoop the young man into his arms right now and try to make it all better, so he settled into the chair next to Spencer, handing him a book to at least give his hands something to do, and settling a firm hand on Spencer’s knee under the table.

They stayed silent the entire ride home and until they made it to the car. Aaron had told the team to go home and not come in the next day just before deplaning, so they were set to go home. So far, no one had questioned their sudden carpooling. No one had mentioned seeing anything at JJ’s wedding. Aaron couldn’t help but wonder if they knew more than they were letting on.

Once both were seated in the car, Aaron reached over and pulled Spencer into an awkward hug over the center console. Spencer immediately buried his face in Aaron’s neck and hugged him back, his arms slipping up underneath Aaron’s armpits.

“Thank you,” he managed to get out, though it sounded hoarse.

“Jack is still with Jessica. Do you need a meeting, or do you just want to order dinner and go home?” Aaron asked, softly.

Spencer sniffed and pulled back. “Home, please.” They’d been back together for almost five months now, and Spencer had almost completely moved into Aaron’s recently bought house. He’d started bonding with Jack, something he’d never had a chance to do before.

Aaron nodded and decided not to bring up what was wrong until they got there. After driving for a few minutes, Aaron thought he would try and bring up something he had been thinking about for a while now, something that might take Spencer’s mind off of whatever was going on up in that big brain of his. “Do you want to tell the team? About us?”

Spencer looked over at him before smiling and turning back to look at his hands which were neatly folded in his lap. “Alex knows. She asked about it just before the case in Seattle; I wasn’t going to lie to her. She’d have seen right through it anyway. I don’t think anyone is going to be upset. Maybe we could have a team dinner and make the announcement away from work.”

Aaron was taken aback. He wasn’t surprised that Blake knew, she had known the both of them for a long time, but he was surprised and how much it seemed Spencer had thought about this already. “Okay, that sounds good. I’ll call everyone in the morning and see if they’re free tomorrow night. We can sleep in and still have time to go grocery shopping. I don’t know about you, but I’m anxious to get this over with.”

Spencer nodded. “Thai?” he asked, grinning and already punching the number into his phone.

----

After they had eaten, Aaron put some home improvement show on the TV, but neither of them were really paying attention. Spencer had curled into Aaron’s’ side, his hand soon finding the younger man’s hair. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you, babe?”

Spencer sighed. “Just feeling guilty, I guess. About my mom. I know I had to do it, but that doesn’t stop the guilt.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what he could say to make Spencer feel better, so he changed the course of the conversation a little. “Does she know about us?” He felt Spencer nod into his side. “I’d love to meet her someday.”

Spencer sat up and moved his had to Aaron’s cheek. He had a look on his face that Aaron had never seen before. “I’d love for you to meet her. I think she’d love you. I know I do,” he answered, placing a soft kiss on Aaron’s lips.

----

The next morning found them making breakfast together after a satisfying round of shower sex. Spencer was leaning back against the island watching Aaron begin to crack eggs into a frying pan. “Aaron, why don’t you go start calling the team? I’ll watch the eggs.” Aaron turned around and kissed Spencer before handing him the spatula, nodding, and walking off to find his phone.

Two miraculous things happened that morning. One: Spencer didn’t burn the eggs. Two: all of the team members were available, and they all offered to bring drinks, deserts, sides, etc., meaning Aaron and Spencer only had to worry about setting up the back yard and getting meat. They had to pick up Jack at 11, so they left at 10 to run to the grocery store, giving them plenty of time.

Arriving to pick Jack up, no matter where he was staying, was always an ordeal. Today, he burst through Jessica’s front door before the pair could even fully get out of the car. “Dad! Spence! I missed you!”

Spencer reached him first, crouching down and accepting Jack’s hug. “Hi, Jack! I missed you too!”

He quickly moved away from Spencer and over to his father, repeating the ritual. “Okay, Jack, let’s go say goodbye to Aunt Jess and get going,” Aaron said, anxious to start setting things up. The family made their way to Jessica’s door where she stood waiting. They kept their interaction brief today, mostly consisting of thank yous and I love yous. Aaron was glad he didn’t have to hide his relationship from Jack and Jessica. They had been very open about everything from the beginning. When it was time to leave, Aaron pushed Jack and Spencer towards the car to have a moment alone with Jessica.

“Thank you again, Jess. For watching Jack and for supporting our relationship. Having your support means a lot to me. I wanted to let you know we’re telling the team tonight.”

Jessica gave a sad smile. “Of course you’d have my support Aaron. And don’t be anxious about the team. They’ll be happy that you’re happy,” she finished, pulling Aaron into a strong hug.

----

Five o’clock found Spencer and Aaron rushing to set a few last-minute things up, working around an overly excited Jack. Spencer stopped in the middle of setting out plates on the table. He wiped a hand down his face.

“Aaron,” he called out. “I need a minute. I’ll be inside.”

Aaron was working at the grill, making sure the propane was full and turned on, but stopped and turned when Spencer started speaking. “Okay, Spence.” Aaron wasn’t sure what was wrong, but seeing his lover running inside his house looking like he was about to pass out wasn’t something he could ignore.

He made his way inside. “Spencer?” he called out, closing the door behind him and making his way towards the living room. There he found Spencer sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, Jack’s pleas of “Spence, what’s wrong?” being answered only with “not right now, Jack.”

“Jack, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit? I’ll come get you soon,” Aaron said quietly, pushing Jack towards the doorway. Jack nodded and walked off, the concerned look not leaving his face. Aaron came back to Spencer, kneeling on the floor in front of him and peeling his hands away from his face to reveal tear-stained cheeks. “Oh, baby, what’s going on?”

Spencer sniffed and let out a laugh that probably (definitely) made him sound a little hysterical. “I, uh, I don’t know. Just nervous, I guess. It’s irrational. They all probably already know anyway, they’re profilers for fuck’s sake. Why the hell am I so nervous?” Spencer stood up then, his hands rising to his temples as he paced the room. Aaron moved to sit on the couch.

“How are we going to do this?” Aaron asked. They hadn’t talked about it yet. “Do you want to make a formal announcement, or just, I don’t know, maybe act like we usually do around each other and see how long it takes for someone to say something?”

Thinking rationally always calmed Spencer down, even if only for a little while. He stopped pacing and sat on the couch next to Aaron. “Both? How about we just act normally until we sit down for dinner and make some kind of announcement then?”

Aaron smiled. “That sounds good, baby. Why don’t you go get Jack and we’ll finish setting up? They’ll be here soon.”

----

Six o’clock had them sitting down for dinner. Everyone had arrived all around the same time. Spencer and Jack stayed at the door to greet them while Aaron stayed in the backyard, working on the meat. So far, the pair had been using each other’s first names, giving casual touches. No one had questioned that yet. Nor had they questioned Spencer greeting them at the door, which led him to the conclusion that they all knew.

Sitting down, though, knowing what announcement they were about to make, his hands were shaking. They decided Spencer should be the one to tell them, as some people could claim that Aaron holding Spencer’s job over him. They knew the team would never do that, but Spencer couldn’t help being anxious over it.

Everyone had gotten their plates and settled into casual conversation. Spencer cleared his throat and started, “Um, everyone, I’d like to say something.” He paused, waiting for the chatter to die down and everyone to turn their attention towards him. “I, uh, I’m pretty sure you all know this already, but, um, well, Aaron and I are in a relationship,” he finally managed to stutter out.

There was radio silence for a few moments before Rossi started laughing. “Did you think you were being subtle about it?”

JJ spoke up after that. “Yeah, we all know, Spence. We’re not mad, we’re glad the two of you are happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the pair of you smile as much as you have in the past few months. Has it been going on longer than that?”

Spencer took a few moments to process that before settling back into his seat and leaning into Aaron, smiling. “Well, technically yes. We had a, uh, fling I guess, a few years ago. Before… everything.”

Everyone but Rossi and Morgan looked surprised at that. “Spencer Reid?” Garcia piped up, giggling. “A fling?” Everyone burst into laughter after that, the small amount of tension in the air quickly diffusing.

The night went on as every team dinner did, laughing and horsing around. Talking about anything that didn’t have to do with work. When it came time for everyone to leave, Morgan pulled Spencer off to the side. “I’m proud of you, man. You deserve this. Happiness. But I’ve been missing our guy time!”

“Thank you, Morgan. I don’t think you understand how much I appreciate your support,” Spencer answered, a grin on his face. “I’ll come over this weekend, case permitting, of course.”

That night, when the family of three were alone again, cuddled on the couch watching some Disney movie that Jack liked, Spencer realized that he didn’t think he could ever be happier.

Taglist: @wheelsup @endingsbeginnings

#aaron hotchner/spencer reid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotchreid #david rossi #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #angst #Derek Morgan #penelope garcia #jack hotchner #Alex Blake #I really love this one #my 3rd team finds out fic #anyways #not crying yet

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echo-bleu · 5 years ago

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Sending Out Flares

Title: Sending Out Flares Fandom: Roswell New Mexico Chapters: 1/1 Words: 7754 Relationship: Alex Manes/Michael Guerin Characters: Alex Manes, Michael Guerin Summary: Three times Alex doesn't quite let Michael take care of him, and one time he does. A/N: For @changingthingslikeleaves, this is your Malex Secret Santa gift! I didn't know exactly what you like, but you gave me three great prompts, so I tried to combine them into one story. It kinda got away from me and grew far longer than I intended, but I hope you like it! The prompts were : - Michael and Alex could never get their timing quite right. What if one of those near misses hadn't actually been a miss? - Michael likes taking care of people, he just doesn't get enough opportunities to do so. He'd be really good at taking care of Alex. - Michael and Alex actually being happy together about something. Huge thanks to @insidious-intent for being an amazing beta!

Also on AO3

“Isobel's gone.”

Alex looks up. He's still sitting on the bed, now fully dressed, but trapped in the trailer for as long as Isobel Evans was out in the yard. He swallows at the way Michael is looking at him, all disappointment and incomprehension.

“I'm sorry,” he mutters, looking at his knees.

“Is it that I'm not good enough for you?” Michael asks. “It stings, but I can't blame you.”

“It's not−” Alex starts, but he stops when he realizes he doesn't even know how to explain it. He makes a move to stand up, at least get on the same level as Michael, but the trailer is too small to move comfortably, and his prosthesis, put on in haste, twists when he tries to put his weight on it. He falls back with a wince.

“It is,” Michael spits out.

Alex shakes his head, a bit desperately. He opens his mouth again, but he can't find the right words, and he knows what he stands to lose if it comes out wrong.

“Then what is it, Alex?”

Alex takes a breath, trying to find that calm place in his mind he retreats to when things get heated. There. “I want to explain,” he says, almost coolly. “Please just give me a minute.”

“You've just had almost half an−” Michael starts, watching Alex grab his leg, grit his teeth and pull it back in place. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Can we talk outside?” Alex asks. “This is a bit cramped. And I think we need to actually talk.”

“If it's just to tell me that this is over, there's no point,” Michael sighs.

“No. Outside. Please.”

Michael blinks and nods. He gets down the steps he never left, holding the door open. Alex stands up, tests his leg carefully, and follows him out.

The burning sun does nothing to help Alex feel better about his morning. It started so well, though. He doesn't know what made him stay the night, for the first time since they hooked up almost two weeks ago, but waking up to Michael's body pressed against his made it all worth it. And it's the best sleep he's had in years, here in the cramped single bed of a badly insulated trailer.

Michael drags him to a couple of chairs laid out in the shade. He sits down and crosses his arms, pointedly waiting. Alex lowers himself into the other chair, regretting that he didn't get to do his PT before putting on his prosthesis.

“I don't think I'm too good for you,” he says quietly, not looking at Michael. “I'm not. If anything, I'm not good enough for you, but this isn't what this is about.”

He grimaces. This is overdue, but he's no good at talking. Being open and vulnerable. That was beaten out of him long ago.

“You're ashamed of me,” Michael says. “You don't want anyone to see us together.”

Alex sputters. “I'm not ashamed of you, I'm fucking terrified, okay?” he lets out, surprising himself. It's a scary thought to admit, and he hasn't, even to himself, until now.

Michael frowns, tilting his head. “You're already out,” he says.

“Guerin, last time someone saw us together−”

It's like a leaden weight has crashed on them. Michael closes his mouth, and his face falls. Alex's eyes fall to his scarred left hand, almost against his will.

“That's what this is about?” Michael asks in a small voice, after a moment has passed. Alex just bites his lip. “Isobel won't−”

“I know. You...you trust her, and it should be−it is enough for me. But I still−”

“You're still scared,” Michael sighs. “You said it the other day, we're adults now.”

Alex looks down at his hands. “It's an ingrained response, I guess. DADT's been over for a while, but I never...I mean, I've been with other guys. Never, like, in public or anything. But with you−” he waves a hand, unsure how to express it.

“With me what, Alex?” Michael presses. “How is it different?”

“It's different because he hurt you!” Alex explodes. “Because he smashed your hand and he made it clear that he knew exactly how to make you disappear and I put you in danger!”

He realizes, belatedly, that he's almost yelling, and Michael is watching him with wide eyes. Taking a breath, he folds back on himself, crossing his arms again. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Alex,” Michael starts, slowly and carefully. “Are you saying that your father threatened to kill me after he found us?”

“He almost did kill you,” Alex mutters.

“No. He didn't try to kill me. He tried to...teach me a lesson, or whatever that was in his mind, but he didn't try to kill me. I know the difference.”

Alex tries not to think of how Michael knows the difference. He does, too. Jesse Manes didn't set out to kill Michael that day, just like he never tried to kill Alex, only inflict pain.

“He tried to teach me a lesson,” he says. “That he could do whatever he wanted to you without consequences. Including−”

“Including killing me,” Michael finishes. “Fuck. Did he...did he hurt you? For what we did?”

Alex doesn't answer, staring at his hands instead. He started this morning in bliss, caressing Michael's bare skin, and now he wants to curl up in a little ball and disappear.

“Fuck,” Michael repeats. “Alex−”

He stands up, coming closer. Alex full-body flinches when Michael puts a hand on his arm. Shit. He thought he'd gotten rid of these reactions. This is Michael, for God's sake.

Michael who immediately pulls back his hand. He crouches down instead, so that his face is just below Alex's line of sight. “Alex, I'm sorry,” he says. “I didn't−I didn't realize all this. I figured your father didn't want us together, that was quite obvious, but...I should have known.”

Alex wants to answer, but the words catch in his throat. “I'm sorry you've had to carry that on your own,” Michael adds.

Alex really chokes at that, his eyes filling with tears. “I didn't want you to know,” he murmurs. “As long as I was good and did what he wanted, you were safe from him. I didn't want you to be looking over your shoulder.”

“You enlisted to keep me safe?” Michael asks in a tiny voice.

Alex buries his head in Michael's shoulder instead of answering. It wasn't the only reason.

Just most of it.

He breathes in and out, as slowly as he can manage, his nose in Michael's tee-shirt, until his leg aches too much to stay still. He goes to push Michael away to stand up, but Michael just moves with him, supporting him up.

His wide, expressive eyes meet Alex's, full of confusion and gratitude and worry, and he brings their foreheads together.

“I'm not afraid of him,” he says. “I can defend myself now. And so can you.”

“Then why am I still scared?” Alex asks.

“Because you never got to take a break. But we can work on this together. If you want to.”

Alex closes his eyes against the tears. “Okay,” he murmurs.

Working on it together means that the very same day, when Jesse Manes tries to get into Alex's head at the drive-in, Michael is just close enough for Alex to feel his warmth.

“Do I embarrass you, Dad?” Alex asks, amusement warring with cutting sarcasm in his voice.

His father sneers, and Alex can guess what he wants to say, but he can't. Not right in front of Michael. Jesse Manes knows how to make his contempt visible, but it's not enough to get inside Alex's head. Not this time.

A small part of him reacts instinctively, though. He doesn't let Michael come any closer for a while, not as long as his Dad is close enough to see. He hates it, hates this gut reaction of dread, but he can't do anything about it.

But where he expected Michael's disappointment, there's only understanding in his eyes, when Jesse Manes leaves after speaking on stage−he doesn't actually care about the movie−and Alex reaches a hand out to put it on Michael's thigh.

“Old habits?” Michael asks in fake lightness.

Alex nods, not even trying to hide his relief and his guilt.

“I get it,” Michael murmurs in his ear, scooting closer on the truck's edge until their thighs touch. “I'm glad we talked.”

“Me too,” Alex says. He can't help eyeing their surroundings, but everyone has their eyes on the movie.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you in public.” Michael's tone is light, teasing, not accusing. Alex breathes.

“Not even if I want you to?”

“You're a respected Airman, Alex,” Michael quotes mockingly. “You're too good for PDA.”

“Um, maybe,” Alex murmurs. “But later, though−”

“The Airstream?”

“Actually, I have a larger bed,” Alex says.

Michael freezes, for just a moment. It's a big step. “I don't even know where you live,” he admits.

“I have a cabin. It's about an hour out?”

“Okay,” Michael nods. “I can follow you there? After the end of the movie. So I'll have my car to come to work in the morning.”

In the morning. “Sounds good,” Alex says. He tries not to show how relieved he feels.

Michael shifts, puts a hand around his back, where it won't be visible to anyone watching them. Alex leans into the touch.

“Your dad doesn't get to win,” Michael murmurs. “You're stronger than him.”

Michael's scarred hand is resting on his thigh. Alex's eyes fall to it, and he has to swallow back a sob.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I'm not, not yet. But maybe we are.”

“What's going on?” Michael asks as soon as Alex opens the door of his cabin. He's made the drive in barely over forty-five minutes instead of the hour it's supposed to take, worry churning at his gut. It's Sunday, two weeks since Isobel was put into a pod and one of their first coinciding days off in a while. That Alex knows of, at least, because Michael has been inventing overtime to cover for the days he spends down in his bunker or at the lab with Liz. It's only one more lie on top of all the ones he's been keeping.

So when Alex texted to ask him to meet at his cabin instead of the Crashdown date they'd planned, Michael figured something must be wrong.

Alex looks tired, bags under his eyes and his features drawn. Michael looks away from his face to realize that he's leaning on crutches, his right pant leg pinned up below his knee. Michael frowns. He's never seen Alex without the prosthesis for longer than the time it takes him to shower in the morning.

“Nothing,” Alex says with a small smile. “Just a slow day. Come in.”

“Slow day?” Michael frowns.

Alex takes a step backward to allow him in, then turns toward the couch, letting Michael close the door behind him. “Do you want coffee?” he asks. “There's some ready, do you mind helping yourself?”

“Of course,” Michael says, taking in the couch, where Alex slowly−too slowly−lowers himself down, and the used mug on the coffee table, beside Alex's laptop and a bottle of pills. “Want me to top you up while I'm at it?”

He'll ask what's going on again, but it can wait until they're settled. Alex is obviously not in imminent danger.

“Sure,” Alex says, leaning to grab the mug and hands it to Michael. “Thanks.”

He pats the spot beside him on the couch when Michael comes back with two full mugs in hand, so Michael obeys and sits down. Their shoulders brush, and he can feel how tense Alex's body is, too tense for a “slow day” lounging on the couch in sweatpants.

“What's wrong, Alex?” he asks quietly.

Alex sighs. “Nothing. Not really.”

“I don't understand,” Michael bites his lip. He's missing something here. It's like Alex expects him to already know, but he doesn't.

He's been so busy, with Isobel and Max and Liz, so worried that they've barely seen each other. They text every day, at least, but it's not enough.

“I'm sorry I'm crashing our date,” Alex says. “I meant to come, but−”

It dawns on Michael suddenly. The pill bottle on the table, whose label he can't quite make out, the lack of prosthesis, the fatigue in Alex's gaze. “When you say slow day, you mean−”

“Bad day, yeah. I didn't really want you to see it, but I missed you. I didn't want to cancel again.” He doesn't meet Michael's eyes.

“Alex−”

“You can go, if you prefer. I'm not going to be good company.”

Michael gapes. “No! Alex...fuck. I don't want to go. I want to be where you are, okay?”

The surprise is Alex's gaze, when he looks up, is real.

“I just...didn't expect this. I should have, I just never thought.”

“What do you mean?” Alex frowns.

“I didn't even know you had...what do you call it, chronic pain?” Alex nods. “I keep thinking that I'm actually starting to know you, and then something new comes up and I'm floored. It's not, like, a bad thing,” Michael adds when he sees the look on Alex's face. “I just get surprised.”

“You're saying that we don't talk enough?” Alex asks, hesitant.

“I don't know, maybe?” Michael grimaces. He thinks about everything he's still hiding and winces. Is he digging his own grave?

“We could,” Alex says. “Talk. Today, if you want to. It's not like I'm up for anything else.”

“Okay,” Michael nods slowly. He stays silent for a moment, trying to think about how to ask his questions. Alex beats him to the punch.

“There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. Michael moves along to give him space. “I found out about some stuff my dad was up to. Illegal stuff.”

Michael blinks, trying to guess where this is leading. “Conspiracy stuff,” Alex adds, and the bottom of Michael's stomach drops.

“He had some documents about you,” Alex confirms his fears. “At first, I thought he targeted you because of me, but I've been thinking. Maybe you're going to tell me it's absurd, it kinda feels like it is, but...are you an alien?”

Michael freezes.

There it is. He's been dreading this, but he's also wanted to tell Alex ever since he came back to Roswell. He gave Max such a hard time for telling Liz, but how much of that was really jealousy?

At the same time, if Alex's father is involved in some kind of conspiracy, if he already knows about him and Isobel and Max…

Fuck. What can he do? He can't just laugh it off. Even if he wanted to keep lying to Alex, it feels like it's already too late.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, too fast, out of breath.

Alex watches him for a moment. It must show on his face, how terrified Michael is. It has to. He realizes, a little late, than any reaction other than laughing it off is probably confirmation.

“I don't have anything conclusive,” Alex says. “From what I read on the darknet, and what I found in the bunker, it seems pretty obvious that aliens do exist. And you being in Roswell, the way you were found in the desert...I don't know, it seems possible? Then I started thinking about how hot you run, and how you never even went to the hospital for your hand, and mostly how strange you and Liz have been behaving lately. Something's going on. And then−”

“Then?”

Alex takes a breath. “I'm pretty sure that Max is an alien. And that would mean that you are, too.”

“Why Max?” Michael asks. He's too scared to answer anything else.

“Stuff Kyle said,” Alex waves the matter away. “If it's that you can't tell me, I'll take anything other than a no as a confirmation,” he adds. “I know something about classified intel.”

Michael hesitates, and that's confirmation enough. But he holds up a hand before Alex can speak again.

“Yes,” he says, his voice lower and less confident than he'd like. “I'm an alien. And I've never told anyone before.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Alex whispers. “I understand why it's...dangerous, for you. Especially with my father−”

“We'll have to talk about this,” Michael says. “If there's someone in this town who knows about us and wants to harm us, I need to know. But−”

“But?”

“Not right now. I'm...I'm amazed that you haven't run away yet, but I'm sure you have questions. The more personal kind.”

“Of course,” Alex nods. “I want to know who you are. But I doubt there's anything I can learn that will make me run away.”

Michael thinks about Rosa and the other girls, about the man in the desert, the secrets he's still going to have to keep. There's plenty, he thinks, that would horrify Alex. “Even if I told you I've killed people?” he asks almost against his will. He winces. This isn't testing the waters, this is just foolish.

“I'd want to know why, and I might not be okay with it,” Alex says slowly. “But I wouldn't run away. And not just because I currently can't run.”

Both of their gazes flicker to his stump.

“I was in the Air Force for ten years, Guerin,” Alex says. “Would you run away, if I tell you that I've killed? Because I have.”

Michael shivers at the bitterness of his tone, but not in fear. “No,” he shakes his head. “But it's different.”

“Because my government asked me to?”

Michael nods.

“It doesn't always make it more justified,” Alex says darkly. “It certainly doesn't make it right.”

“I haven't,” Michael mutters, swallowing hard. “I haven't killed anyone. But I have...abilities, that can be dangerous.”

He raises his hand, floating his coffee mug above the table.

“Wow,” Alex murmurs.

Michael turns toward him sharply, letting the mug crash back on the table with a loud thud. Alex's expression is one of wonder, not fear.

“It doesn't scare you?” Michael asks.

Alex shrugs. “Not really. I trust you.”

“I don't understand how you're not more...disturbed.”

“You know I'm a sci-fi nerd, right?” Alex smiles. “So maybe I've only seen aliens or...telekinesis on TV and in books, and it wasn't real, but it doesn't feel brand new to me. And I've had time to imagine a wide range of things in the last few weeks.”

“You've been wondering if I'm an alien for that long? And you didn't say anything?”

“I barely saw you,” Alex shrugs.

“Right,” Michael bites his lip. “I haven't really been picking up extra shifts.”

“I figured.”

“You did? I'm sorry I lied. But there's...a lot, and some of it isn't really mine to tell.”

“I understand that,” Alex nods. “I'd really like to know as much as possible though, especially if I'm going to stop my father from executing his plans, whatever they are.”

“Let me get us more coffee, then,” Michael says. Alex nods, so he stands up and, just for the sake of it, levitates both of their mugs instead of taking them in his hands.

“I wish I could do that when I’m on crutches,” Alex mutters behind his back. Michael snorts without looking at him. He’s not sure, yet, if he’s relieved that Alex now knows, or if it’s going to be an added source of stress. Isobel is probably going to kill him. Although he can always tell her that Alex figured it out on his own−it is, after all, the truth. Michael is not sure that will calm her down at all.

Then he remembers that Isobel is in stasis in a pod, fighting for her life while Liz tries to make her an antidote. He groans.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks, and Michael realizes that he’s stopped short on the way to the kitchen.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. He needs to figure out what he can tell Alex of this whole mess. He doesn’t want to hide his fear for Isobel anymore, but he can’t imagine telling Alex about Rosa. Not yet.

He fills their mugs from the still warm pot on the counter, and comes back to find Alex popping a couple of pills out of the bottle he noticed earlier.

“Painkillers,” Alex confirms his suspicion with a grimace, rinsing them down with a sip of coffee. Michael sits back down beside him, folding his leg under him. He’s glad Alex isn’t trying to hide his pain, though his tense posture makes him want to give him a massage or something. He’s not sure that would even help.

“Does this happen often?” he asks instead, curiosity getting the better of him.

“What?”

“Slow days.”

Alex shrugs and bites his lip. “It’s hard to draw a line between good and bad days,” he says. “If I walk too much, or wear the prosthesis for too long, I sometimes need to rest my leg for a day or so.”

“I was thinking of the pain,” Michael clarifies.

“Oh.” Alex hesitates, shifting and taking another sip of his coffee. “It’s, um...it’s worse some days than others. If I overdo it, and...sometimes for no reason.”

“Like today?”

“Yes. Phantom pain is pretty much random. It’s never really not there, but it’s usually manageable.”

“How did I miss it?” Michael wonders aloud. He’s no stranger to pain, even chronic pain, though his hand only hurts when he tries to use it actively, for the most part. His eyes fall to the scars covering his fingers.

“I guess we mostly saw each other casually?” Alex says. “It’s not like we’re living together.”

Michael bites his lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t−” he starts.

“I didn’t tell you,” Alex stops him. “I didn’t show you. I don’t usually advertise it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Alex smiles, and cups Michael’s face with one hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I almost just canceled today.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You shouldn’t be ashamed of being in pain.”

Alex makes an aborted motion with his hand, like he wants to say something, but he shakes his head and sits up a little straighter, wincing. “So, tell me about this alien thing.”

Michael can recognize the yearning in his voice, the wish to change the subject to something that will take his mind off the pain, so he obeys. He tells Alex everything he can, about the differences in their biology−how they only really knew about the acetone, until Liz came along and tested Max’s blood−, about coming out of pods fifty years after the crash with no memories, about making a pact never to tell anyone. He leaves out Rosa, and Isobel’s current predicament, but only for now, he promises himself. Until he’s had the opportunity to really think about it, to talk with Max, maybe. He wishes he could hash it out with Isobel, but she’s not going to give him any brilliant ideas from the inside of her pod.

At Alex’s prompting−“I want to know about you, Guerin”−he speaks about the foster families, about finding Isobel and Max again, and even about his obsession with spaceships. “I have a bunker, under my trailer,” he says. “I’ll show you, someday.” When you’re feeling better, he doesn’t say. He can feel that Alex wouldn’t appreciate it right now.

Alex’s quiet, heartfelt “thank you for telling me all this,” when Michael falls quiet, feels like a larger step in their relationship than “I never look away,” or even the “I love you” that’s escaped both of them in the dark, in bed. And sitting here cuddling in the cabin’s old leather couch, Alex’s tension slowly melting away as the painkillers take effect, there’s a stronger connection between them than there has been in the last ten years of cosmic, heartbreaking pining from afar and wordless sex.

“You're trying to leave the planet.” Alex's voice comes out flat, emotionless. That's how his body is, the more violent the storm in his head, the calmer he appears outwardly.

When he's with someone else, anyway.

His instinct is to run, find somewhere safe and secluded where he can break down. Michael is looking at him like nothing's wrong, like he didn't just tell him something world-changing, and of course it isn't for him, is it, it's been his project all along, he was never going to−

Alex swallows around the bubbling dread growing in him.

“It's nowhere near finished,” Michael says, gesturing at the alien glass in front of them, and any remaining hope Alex might have had that he's wrong is crushed. “I'm still missing a lot of pieces.”

“Of course,” Alex murmurs, thinking of the piece that's sitting in his backpack right now.

He'll need to give it to Michael, of course. He re-centers himself around that thought. It works, it always works, thinking of what he needs to do for other people, to calm down the anguish. His feelings don't matter. The piece of the ship belongs to Michael, and he deserves to have it. He deserves to see his projects come to completion.

Even if it means he'll leave forever. After all, Alex deserves nothing else. The last few months, navigating their new relationship, gave him a fool's hope, but how could he ever be good enough for someone like Michael? For a beautiful, gentle alien genius? Him, a flawed, broken human?

He'll give Michael the piece of alien glass. And then…

No, he can't think about that. There is no then. Whatever happens next will be in Michael's hands only.

Alex won't run. He won't walk away so he doesn't get hurt, not this time. Because if he can let anyone hurt him−

Might as well be you.

“There's a storm coming,” he scrambles for something to say, Michael's gaze on him too much to handle. “We shouldn't stay here.”

“We could,” Michael shrugs. “This is a storm shelter.”

Alex looks around him, swallowing hard. He'll stand by his decision, but he can't bear to look at the console. He can't be stuck here for hours with the reminder that all Michael wants is to leave.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“This is where I sleep during storms,” Michael insists, gesturing to a cot in a corner, covered with stacks of papers and books. “The Airstream's not safe, even with my powers.”

“It's cold down here,” Alex says, using the first excuse in his mind. It's true. It's cold enough that he's stuck his hands in his pockets and his fingers are still aching. It's also dusty, despite Michael's clear effort to keep the place clean. Grimacing, Alex takes his right hand out of his pocket to check the time on his phone. “We could go to my place,” he says. “We still have enough time to drive over.” The last thing he wants is to be snowed in the bunker during a storm.

His brain is still shouting at him to run, to get away from this place and Michael before he breaks down. Especially with the storm coming. It's going to be a rough few hours.

But then, if he's going to open up to Michael, he might as well do it all the way.

Michael watches him searchingly for a moment, then nods. “Alright,” he says. “If you want.”

The drive there in Alex's SUV is silent and awkward, in a way they haven't been with each other in weeks. Alex is hyper aware of the console piece in his backpack behind his seat, and Michael periodically fidgets with his hands like he wants to say something. He keeps massaging the crooked fingers of his left hand like they hurt.

Alex feels the way his stump protests against the pressure as he pushes on the pedals, the soreness not just around the skin but deep in the bones of his leg. He rolls his shoulder, a long healed injury−from the same night as Michael's hand, he thinks absently−aching from the cold and humidity.

“Is it the storm?” he asks Michael.

“Um?”

“Your hand is hurting. Is it because of the weather?”

Michael nods. “How do you know?”

“Leg's aching too. And I've had my fair share of broken bones that still act up sometimes,” Alex shrugs.

Michael watches him, inscrutable, and they fall silent again. Alex gives up on trying to find something to talk about and focuses on the road. He's too unsettled to keep pretending, and Michael isn't helping.

When he pulls up in front of the cabin, the wind has picked up and it's raining. Alex drives the car as close as possible to shelter. It's not going to be a huge storm, but it's coming down on them fast, and the forecast predicted snow. He takes a deep breath before opening his car door and limp-running to the cabin.

Michael follows him, and he has the door unlocked and open before Alex can put his key in the lock. Alex feels a spike of annoyance. Is that how it's going to be now? Is every proof of Michael's alienness going to bother him, because it reminds him that Michael doesn't want to be here?

He's shivering as he makes it inside. The temperature drop was sudden, and the cabin isn't much warmer than the outside. Michael closes the door behind them and shakes himself like a wet dog. Alex would snort out loud if the laughter didn't catch in his throat.

“We cut it pretty close, I think,” Michael says. “At least we didn't get drenched.”

Alex doesn't answer, bending to take off his shoes. He doesn't like to wear his prosthetic without them, but they would just drag water and mud everywhere. He's careful with his balance as he stands back up.

“Alex,” Michael puts a hand on his shoulder when he moves to go somewhere else−anywhere else. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alex shakes his head. “I'm fine.”

Michael ignores his answer. “Is it pain? Or is it something I did?”

Alex blinks. Michael actually has no idea what hearing his plans did to him.

Wordlessly, Alex opens his bag, and pulls out the console piece. He looks at it for a second, the shimmering surface as mesmerizing as ever, then he puts it down on the table. The glass make a thud hitting the wood, but Michael doesn't move, watching him with his mouth open.

Alex closes his eyes and looks away before Michael can say anything. He walks over to his bedroom, leaving the door open.

He hesitates. Removing his prosthesis would relieve at least some of the pain he's in, but it will also make him far less mobile. He might need to go outside, if something gets knocked over by the wind, or go down to the storm shelter underneath the cabin.

He hates storms. He's grateful to be home, at least, not down in Michael's bunker or on the road. He reminds himself that Michael can move just about anything with his mind, and the storm shouldn't be bad enough to put the cabin at risk. He's just done removing his leg and putting sweat pants on when he looks up to see Michael standing in the door frame, without the console piece.

“Where did you find it?” he asks.

“Here,” Alex shrugs. “Jim Valenti had it. I don't know how he got it and why he hid it here. I figured it was probably alien, but I didn't know what it was until today.”

Michael doesn't ask why Alex didn't show it to him before. He just stands there, the tension between them thick and suffocating.

Thunder claps outside, and Alex freezes. For an instant, his brain flashes back to another desert, another small house in the middle of nowhere, that one made of clay. The claps of gunshots. He shivers and wraps his arms around his middle, still sitting on his bed.

“You okay?” Michael asks, frowning.

Alex nods, without looking at him. He's probably not very convincing, but it's all he's got, when his brain can't make string words together.

“Can I touch you?”

Michael took two steps closer while Alex was trying to hold on to the present, his feet now only inches from Alex's. Alex scrambles back onto the bed before he realizes what he's doing.

“Hey, it's okay,” Michael steps back immediately, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. “I'm staying right there, okay?”

“I'm fine,” Alex mutters, but it seems less credible every time he says it. He backs up against the headboard and pulls his legs up to his chest, though it's a terrible position without his prosthesis, where he has to hold his residual limb in place. He knows he's ridiculous.

Lightning illuminates the dimly-lit room briefly. Alex can't bring himself to look at Michael, his presence both anchoring and humiliating. He tries to concentrate on his breathing instead. In. Out. Count backwards. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. Crack. Fuck. He ducks his head between his knees, as gunfire echoes in his ears. There's not even a visual, this time. Just the sounds.

He yelps when he feels a hand on his arm.

“Alex!”

Dammit. Michael is sitting beside him on the bed, probably trying to pull him out of it. Alex forces himself to breathe deeply. He's in his cabin. Michael switched on the light in the bedroom, and it's a little easier to keep his focus. There's no danger, everything's fine. Alex curses his brain again. This is the worst time for a panic attack.

Shaking himself, he scoots over a little and pats the space beside him for Michael to come closer. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Michael says. “Do you need anything?”

“I'm not a fan of storms,” Alex admits.

“That's alright. I used to hate them,” Michael answers.

“You don't anymore?”

Michael shrugs. “If I don't have to be in my truck, I don't.”

“Oh.” Alex didn't think of that. He still doesn't know how long Michael lived in his truck for, exactly, but he can't think of a good way to ask.

It pulls him out of his panic, though. By the noise of the wind hurling at the windows, the storm isn't going away anytime soon. He can't keep getting pulled into flashbacks. He needs a game plan.

He extends his legs in front of him, slowly, only now noticing how cold he is. The tension between him and Michael is still there, but not as strong−mostly because Alex doesn't have the focus to maintain it. He moves to get under the blankets, and Michael follows, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm cold,” Alex shrugs. It doesn't answer Michael's implied question−it's the middle of the day, so lying in bed is not the most obvious activity they could be doing.

“Are we huddling for warmth?” Michael asks, amused.

Alex sticks out his tongue at him, too frazzled to think of a better comeback. Michael laughs.

“I can get you something warm to drink,” he says.

Alex shakes his head and pulls him closer instead. Michael's skin is warm as always, and Alex wonders idly if that has to do with him being an alien. He forbids his brain from going down that train of thought.

At the next bolt of lightning, Alex starts counting. He does it under his breath, but Michael picks it up and mouths the numbers with him. Five, six, seven. Thunder claps again, but this time, he's ready. He only flinches a little.

“You good?” Michael asks.

“Yeah, I think,” Alex says, and this time he's sincere.

Michael opens his mouth and closes it again, like he's keeping himself from saying something. He worries at his lip for a moment, before Alex decides to break the tension. If he doesn't, it's just going to fester.

“Whatever it is, you can say it,” he says.

He expects questions about his PTSD, but that's not what's on Michael's mind. “Why did you react so strongly to the console? Compared to me being an alien, it's nothing.”

Alex shakes his head. “I just… You don't want to be here.”

“That's not what I said,” Michael frowns.

“You want to go to space,” Alex says, pulling away from him. He cradles the blankets tighter to his body, but it doesn't compensate for Michael's warmth. “You want to leave.”

Michael looks lost. “I do. But it's not the same thing as not wanting to be here.”

“How is it not?”

Michael considers him for a moment, biting his lip. “It used to be the same,” he says slowly, holding a hand up when Alex opens his mouth. Alex nods curtly, letting him speak. “Look, before we knew each other, and then the whole time you were gone...I didn't have anything to look forward to here, you know? No parents, and I love Max and Isobel but they have their own lives, better adjusted than mine. They see their future here on Earth, as humans. But I never did. I always knew I didn't belong, that I wasn't wanted here.”

Alex looks away in shame. I wasn't wanted here. However much he didn't want to, he knows he contributed to this. They were two lost souls who found each other, in high school. Alex enlisted to protect Michael, but in the process, he also left him alone. And he knows that feeling all too well. I wasn't loved, he told Kyle not so long ago. He's never had someone to stay for, before Michael.

“I understand,” he says, even if it tears him apart. Michael deserves to have his own dreams. Alex can't give him what he's looking for. He can't give him a home, a place where he belongs. He can't give back what Michael's already given him.

“No, no, I wasn't finished,” Michael says hurriedly. Alex's eyes snap back to him. “It's not how I feel anymore. I still want to maybe find my people, or build the ship so I have the option to explore the universe. But I don't want to leave.”

“What's changed?”

“You, silly.” Michael flicks a hand on Alex's shoulder. “You came back. You're here, and you somehow still want me.”

Alex stares at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly, but the warmth spreading in his chest definitely doesn't come from the still-dropping temperature. He smiles, suddenly feeling shy.

“I do,” he murmurs. “I don't want either of us to leave.”

“Neither do I,” Michael responds in kind.

Alex shifts closer to him, sticking his cold hands under Michael's warm body. “Still cold?” Michael asks, his grin turning flirty.

“Uh huh,” Alex nods.

“Come here, then.”

When the thunder rolls again, quieter and further away this time, Alex doesn't flinch at all.

“You're awake!”

Michael is far too cheerful, elbowing his way into the bedroom with a tray in his hands. Alex rubs his eyes and forces himself to sit up in bed, fatigue warring with the need to move. He didn't manage to get up when Michael did, and he was in and out of consciousness while Michael sang off-key in the shower, then whistled some random song in the kitchen while, apparently, making breakfast. The tray is overflowing, too small to contain the large plate of pancakes, the syrup, coffee for two and an orange juice bottle. Alex is pretty sure Michael is balancing it all with telekinesis.

“What is this?” he asks, yawning.

“Breakfast in bed!”

The tray lands, seemingly on its own, on the empty side of the bed, then seconds later it is joined by Michael, in sweats and socks, after he's fully opened the window blinds. Alex blinks against the light and feels Buffy, the five-year-old beagle he's been fostering for a few months, climb onto the bed as well, settling her head on his foot.

“Hey girl,” Alex murmurs, scratching her back, before he turns back to Michael. “I can see that. But why?”

“Do we really need a reason? We both have the day off, so why not?”

Alex raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“Okay, I could tell you weren't feeling so hot last night, and I wanted you to take it easy this morning, that's all,” Michael admits. “You've been working so hard on Project Shepard the last few months, you deserve some down time now that it's over.”

It's true, Alex has to give him that. He's been working every night on dismantling his father's work, often late, on top of his day job at the base for five months. They had drinks to celebrate the official end of all sanctioned and unsanctioned military operations concerning aliens two days ago, as well as Max's return to work after a long recovery from actual resurrection. Alex has been feeling under the weather ever since, though the flu-like symptoms are probably just the physical manifestation of his fatigue.

He still frowns at the pancakes, not completely satisfied.

“You keep making all these gestures, do things for me, and I don't know what you want in return,” he says.

Michael has been spending more and more time at the cabin lately, enough that he now has his own toothbrush and his own drawer in Alex's closet. They had a rough patch after Michael lost both his just-found mother and his brother in the same twenty-four hours. Alex still blames himself for some of that, for not planning better and anticipating his family's cruelty, but they both fought the pain and the weight of their past and their relationship somehow held through.

“Someone once told me that people can be nice to each other for no reason sometimes,” Michael answers.

Alex smiles to hear his own words said back at him, more than a decade later. “You've been doing a lot,” Michael continues. “Most of it for me and my family.”

“I needed to do it for myself, too,” Alex interrupts him, thinking of his father, still recovering from the head wound Kyle gave him, and now hopefully harmless to anyone Alex cares about.

“Anyway, we both deserve some time just for us,” Michael finishes.

“Doesn't time for us mean we're supposed to do things together? Rather than you making breakfast for me?” Alex asks.

“It means we're supposed to do things that we enjoy,” Michael says. “I thrive on taking care of people. But Max won't let me help him, I think Isobel is starting to like you more than me, and you're too independent to let me in. I need someone!”

Alex laughs.

“Okay, I could let you take care of me,” he says.

“I know you don't like it.”

“It's not that I don't like it, exactly. It's...complicated. I want to prove that I can take care of myself, I don't want to depend on someone, even if it's you. And it's−it's hard to let anyone in.”

“You've never had anyone to take care of you,” Michael states.

“Not like that,” Alex bites his lip. “Nurses, doctors...but it's not the same. I don't want you to become my nurse.”

“That's not what I want either,” Michael answers quickly, throwing his hands up. “I love you, and I like taking care of people. That's all.”

That's all. It's not about his disability, it's not about Alex needing to be taken care of. It's about Michael wanting to.

Alex nods, tears coming to his eyes. “Then I'll let you,” he murmurs, pulling Michael closer by his collar. The kiss is sweet and soft, tender. “I love you too.”

“Scoot over,” Michael tells him when they pull apart, with a little shooing hand motion. Alex can't help snorting in laughter. He moves until he's sitting against the headboard, his pillow behind his back. Michael places the tray between them. “Dig in.”

“Okay,” Alex obeys, silently laughing at being ordered around. “As you wish.”

“You've got food in the kitchen if you want,” Michael tells Buffy sternly, catching her paw to keep her from exploring the contents of the tray. The dog licks his face instead, triggering some fake-disgusted noises from Michael. Alex watches them interact with amusement.

His phone beeps with a text from the nightstand and he grabs it, almost reflexively. He yelps when it leaps out of his hand and into Michael's.

“No work,” Michael growls.

“You don't even know if it's work,” Alex raises his eyebrows.

Michael frowns, thinking, then hands him back the phone with a reluctant, “Fine.”

“Here, it's not work,” Alex shows him the screen. “It's the animal shelter. Am I allowed to look?”

“I just want you to relax today,” Michael deflates.

“I know. I promise I will, okay? Look, I'm all relaxed.” Alex spreads his arms and lies his head back against the headboard in a show of relaxation.

Michael chuckles. “Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in defeat. “What does the animal shelter want?”

Alex unlocks his phone to look at the text. “They...oh,” he blurts out, reading.

“Alex?”

“Buffy's adoption papers came through,” Alex says, swallowing back his emotion. He's been waiting for this since falling in love with the older dog at the shelter and bringing her home, days before the Caulfield disaster.

“She's yours?”

Alex nods, putting his phone down. He picks Buffy up from the bed and brings her closer to his face. “You're officially part of the family now, Buffy,” he says. “What do you say?”

Buffy gives his cheek a good lick, and Alex laughs. He looks back at Michael, who has a wide smile on his face. “That's wonderful news!” Michael grins.

The joy in his eyes is as real as it gets, and Alex suddenly knows it's the right time. “We have one more person to adopt, though, Buffy, don't we?” he tells the dog.

Buffy yaps and licks Alex's face again. “That's right,” he says. “Michael, will you move in with us?”

Michael's smile turns into awe, then pure happiness. Careful of the tray still between them, he leans over to hug them both, a tear falling down his cheek. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Of course.”

“Welcome to the family,” Alex whispers in his ear, before cupping his neck and kissing him over Buffy's head.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malexsanta #malexsanta2019 #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell nm fanfiction #mine #echo's fanfiction

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percywinchester27 · 5 years ago

Text

About a boy (Part-5)

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: Suspense, feels, mention of physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I am living for all the comments guys! :’)

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story. You’re the freaking best!

About a boy masterlist

“Calculus is the worst!” Will complained

“No one asked you to take advanced Math, you know?” Dean grinned slyly, wishing it wasn’t dark and he could see Will’s look of horror.

The cold metal was biting into the skin of his ankle where it rested against the grill. Will was on the other side as usual, prattling about his day.

“You talk like you’re acing calculus,” he muttered.

“I’m not bad. I get by.” That wasn’t entirely true. Dean was better than most kids in his class.

“Hmmm…” Will mused. “You gotta teach me.”

“What?”

“That’s it!” Will yelped. “I’ll keep looking for this Sam of yours and you can teach me Calculus.”

“It’s not like you’re doing great at finding Sam,” Dean shot out, then bit his tongue immediately. He regretted his words because it wasn’t fair.

But Will sighed, “I know. I’ve been terrible at it. I’m sorry.”

Dean felt guilty in a way he’d barely ever felt before. Will continued. “I’ll try harder. Give me something else to go on. Anything.”

“He has brown hair,” Dean blurted.

“Alright. I’ll scourge thoroughly tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

It had been a couple of weeks now since Will had told Dean his name and almost every night found him by the grill. He was a patient and restful kid. Chirpy and smart. Dean liked him. So much that talking to him after lockdown had become a routine. They hadn’t really accomplished much in the past two weeks.

The constant shuffling was bothersome, but the military attitude and no contact rule was worse. It made Dean sick to his stomach.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Another kid... left today.”

Dean didn’t have to see Will to picture the terror on his face. His soft, grave voice was enough.

They had never spoken outright about it, but Dean knew that Will was seeing it too, seeing the glaring phenomenon. Both of them knew the word was ‘disappeared’ and not ‘left.’

He didn’t know what Will made of it, but Dean for a fact knew that the kids weren’t being transferred. Not all of them anyway, and he had to find out where they went, and he didn’t have much time left to find it out.

Even though he yearned to tell another soul about what he knew, he didn’t want to risk telling the truth to Will. That would just put him in danger and accomplish nothing for Dean.

So, instead of meaninglessly using words to reassure him, Dean wriggled his fingers, then wrist through the grill and placed it over Will’s knee. Maybe this way he could convey more than words ever could.

Later, as he dragged his feet along the corridor, Dean wondered to himself. It was glaringly obvious that most kids disappeared in that age group. The reason presented itself to him almost immediately. 11-14 was the most gullible age group. Too old to be adopted, but still young enough to be naive. Boys on Dean’s floor were all on the verge of being adults. If they went missing, there would be a hue and cry. Then there was also the matter of Michael and his goons having struck some sort of deal with the management. Dean just didn’t know where Andy was involved in all of this.

“Still sneaking around to meet that kid?”

Dean jerked upright, not having realised that he had already reached his room and was seated on his bunk. Cas’ voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent to it, one that made Dean feel guilty. Like he’d been caught stealing a cookie from the kitchen at night.

For a second he thought of denying it. Afterall, he had never mentioned about Will to Cas. Then seemed to think better of it.

“Cas, I-”

“You don’t need to explain anything, Dean,” Cas cut him off. “I just want you to be careful about whom you trust around here.”

“He’s a good kid.” Dean felt the needless urge to protest, defend Will’s loyalty.

Cas’ words were patient. “I’m not saying he’s a bad kid, but this place ... even the walls have ears.”

Dean was suddenly aware of Gabriel, snoring steadily a few feet away, and silent as ever Benny. It seemed Cas realised it, too.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Cas said with a subtle finality.

That was that.

Dean kicked off his shoes, stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, then threw himself on the hard choir mattress. Despite the chill in the air, Dean was sweating, worrying about Sam… worrying if he was next in the line of ever disappearing kids.

********************************

Cas was quiet all through class the next day. Dean tried to catch his eye, but Cas expertly managed to avoid it despite sitting next to Dean in almost every class.

Finally, Dean had had enough and grabbed Cas by the arm when they were walking back to the Orphanage on the dusty road.

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean hissed, pulling Cas off the foot-trodden path and into the fringe of the forest that lined the road from the school to the Orphanage.

Cas scowled, pulling his arm back. Maybe Dean had yanked harder than he had intended. But when Cas started to walk back towards the path, Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back again.

“Cas! Listen to me.”

Cas turned around, eyes closed, but exasperation clear on his face. “What?”

Dean had never seen Cas like this. Usually he was so composed and… happy. Never annoyed and irritated. Maybe he was tired of Dean’s crusade. Maybe he was finally giving up, like Dean had suspected all along. It felt like a slap to his face and a kick to his gut at the same time.

His hands dropped to his sides in defeat, letting go of Cas completely, his shoulders drooped.

The sudden weightlessness made Cas look up in surprise.

“I guess this is it then, huh?” Dean smirked, without mirth.

“What?” The round blue eyes were shocked. But Dean didn’t feel any bitterness, just the weirdest mix of gratitude and sadness.

“What do you mean ‘this is it?” Cas asked, all annoyance disappearing. “You can’t give up now, Dean. We can’t give up on Sam now. He needs to be found. And you’re gonna trust a twelve year old punk with this and not me?”

Oh.

That was the problem. Cas realised what he’d said out loud as soon as Dean did, and his cheeks flushed a deep red. He was jealous.

His eyes dropped, and he stood there, shrouded in the shadows cast by the tall birch trees. “Dean… I’m sorry. I just- I got…”

“Hush...” Dean didn’t let him finish the sentence. Cas was what? Embarrassed?

How ironic that Cas should be embarrassed, when Dean was feeling overwhelmed and special. No one had ever been jealous over him. Not even a tiny bit.

“Forget about it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Cas cleared his throat, then looked at him and gave Dean a smile. A genuine and happy smile.

“So tell me about this kid.”

Just like that Dean knew he was forgiven. “His name’s Will, and he’s some sort of a Math freak. He said he’d look out for Sam… He’s trustworthy,” he added quickly, seeing the dubious look on Cas’s face.

“Okay,” Cas acquiesced.

“There’s something else I have to tell you, though,” Dean said, urgently, getting to the point. “I’ve kept something from you.”

Cas didn’t look surprised, more like a patient teacher who had been waiting for his favourite pupil to come clean about some shenanigans.

Dean took a deep breath, looked Cas directly in his clear blue eyes and said, “I lied to you about where I am from. I wasn’t transferred here from an orphanage. In fact, I have never set foot in an orphanage before this one. All my life I’ve known a home.”

Cas’s face gave away a tiny spasm, but apart from that he maintained a carefully constructed blank face.

Dean continued. “What I told you about the fire and losing my parents is true. And that I didn’t see my brother Sam after that night. What I didn’t tell you is that, since that night, I’ve lived with my dad’s friend. His name is Bobby Singer, and he is a grumpy old man.” Dean couldn’t help the wistful smile that spread across his lips at the thought of Bobby.

“He’s an awful cook, and he grumbles all the damn time. The house leaks when it rains and smells of stale whiskey. The front yard is full of the cars that come to his garage for repairs and the massive backyard is where the junk is stored for the scrap metal ... but it has always been my home.

Bobby’s fed me three meals a day, paid for school and taught me every goddamn thing under the Sun. From repairing cars to picking locks. He’s…” said Dean through a thick throat, “raised me like his own.”

Now that Dean had said it, the weight of missing Bobby came crashing down on him. Weight that he’d tried to bury so deep down, because he knew even a single thought might just make him weak. Silence followed in the aftermath of his words, until Cas broke it.

“Then why did he throw you out?”

“He didn’t,” Dean said, chin jutting out. “I chose to come here.”

“What?”

Cas’ bewilderment was expected. Dean tried to elaborate.

“The fire… the one that happened in Lawrence, Kansas. I’ve never been there since. Bobby was with my dad in the army. He took me in to his house in Sioux falls, Missouri. Sam… he was too young to be handed over, and the authorities took him over. Through some mismanagement, they lost track of him. Bobby tried for years to track him down, from orphanage to orphanage, till he gave up. I had lost all hope of finding him till…”

“Till?”

Dean smiled at Cas’ interest. “Till Bobby started going out with the Sheriff of the town, Jody Mills.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was awful at first, watching them sneak around the house… and honestly, just plain gross. But they seem to make each other happy. And she started spending more time around the house. Then this case came over, about missing kids in a chain of orphanages.”

Cas inhaled sharply, “Dean, is this going where I think it’s going?”

He nodded. “It all boiled down to this place. Many of her leads ended right here, and one of the million case files her department had inspected was about an 11 year old from Lawrence Kansas, whose folks had died in a fire.”

“Jesus Christ!” Cas sat down on a nearby rock with a plop. “This is insane.”

“Mhmm…” Dean agreed, going to sit by Cas gingerly. “It took me awhile to swallow the nerve wracking hope. Long story short, Jody needed a warrant to search this place that she couldn’t acquire and I was hell bent on finding Sam. We hatched a plan together and she managed to put me in here for a few months. That way I could find out about where the hell all these kids are disappearing to, and find Sam.”

Cas still looked like he was going to faint and Dean was mildly worried about him. He swallowed loudly and asked in a low voice. “So what about the kids…. what’s happening to them?”

“Jody’s best guess is child trafficking. Child labour and that sort. But it’s just that- a guess. Either way, we need some proof about what’s happening. The Stynes are shady at best… and insanely dangerous at worst. They somehow manage to loop the system and avoid all inquiries.”

“Whoa,” Cas muttered, dazed.

“Don’t let this get you all complacent,” Dean warned. “If anything, we’re in even more danger than you thought. I didn’t want to involve you, but I’m just so worried that Sam might be next to disappear.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cas said. “I’m in this with you now. We’re like Hardy boys now!”

Dean grinned. With his dark hair, pale face and straight laced attitude, Cas could pass for Frank Hardy. He then checked his watch. They were awfully late. He tapped Cas on the shoulder and they sprinted up to the path.

Both of them were out of breath by the time the reached the rusty, wrought-iron gate.

“If we’re ever gonna find out anything,” Cas huffed, walking up the creaky porch steps, “We’re gonna have to sneak into the left wing and-”

“Well, well, well,” an oily voice greeted them. “If it isn’t the baby angel with the blond douchewad.”

Gary was standing at the top of the steps, hands crossed, a sick, cold smile on his face.

“I see you’re half an hour past the curfew.”

“And I see you’re still lacking a brain,” Dean retorted, unable to help himself.

The smile slid from Gary’s face as he turned around. “You’re going to regret this, Winchester.”

And sure, he did, because seconds later, Andy turned up outside, followed by Raphael and Zachariah.

“You’re past the curfew,” Andy said.

Dean stared back. “I’ve been told.”

“I told you on day one, Winchester that your cocky attitude won’t work here. Detention for a week. You’ll clean the dishes everyday for a week after dinner for the whole damn week and Gary’s gonna supervise you.”

“What the-”

Andy cut it. “And you, Castiel, too much chumming around isn’t good for anyone here. You’ll be in the laundry for the whole week. If I see the two of you loitering around together, I’ll make that a whole month. Now get lost. The dishes are waiting for you.”

******************************

A/N 2: Please let me what you think of this story? Pretty please? The feedback is what keeps me going :)

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