#but they don't want to actually help you not be gone

[zorosangell]

“ I want to see Zoro’s reaction when he sees the reader with an injury that almost kills them. ”

⛥ﾟ・。 brand

synopsis: you return to the ship with a horrible injury... and zoro goes fucking berserk.

cw: angst, tiny bit of comfort i guess, ZORO DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT YOU, protective zoro, kinda sad for a christmas post ik but i was inspired

a/n: merry chrysler <3

"Stop blubbering and answer me, Usopp!" Zoro barked, roughly grabbing the sniper by his suspenders and yoking him up, attempting to shake him out of it. "Tell me what the hell happened!"

Usopp could barely breathe through his sobs, large rivulets of tears and thick globs of snot running down his face as his chest heaved, attempting to spit out an answer.

"USOPP!"

"S-S-San-Sanji!"

In an instant, Zoro's head snapped over to to the cook, eyes blazing with murderous intent.

The blonde had been sitting on the stairs of the upper deck the entire time, hands clutching his arms—like a hug—as he anxiously puffed his cigarette, his eyes becoming more hollow by the minute.

'Bastard!'

"She was with you!" the swordsman roared, storming over and harshly yanking Sanji to his feet. "What the fuck happened?!"

"Chill out, bro! It's not Sanji's fault!" Franky rushed over, shoving the two apart. "No one could've known!"

Zoro's brows furrowed at the vagueness, jaw pulling taut with frustration.

He was getting real sick of everyone beating around the bush.

"Known what?! I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"(y/n)..." Nami sniffled, legs pulled into her chest as she sat off to the side.

When you were first brought back, she and Robin had been asked to assist Chopper in treating you.

But the moment she caught sight of your wound, she was utterly inconsolable, nothing but tears.

This, of course, left Robin alone to help the good doctor.

"How did it happen?! How bad is she hurt?!" Zoro asked, before turning his attention back to Sanji. "You were supposed to be protecting her!"

The cook's lip rolled, hoping to fight back against its wobble as the lump in his throat began to rise.

"She... told me to tell you... she's sorry..."

"I DON'T WANNA HEAR THAT SHIT FROM YOU!"

In an instant, Zoro launched himself toward him, the others rushing in to separate the two.

"Now is not the time for this!" Jimbei exclaimed, stepping between them.

"Zoro!" Usopp quickly rushed over, holding the man back, Brook and Franky jumping in to help.

"BASTARD!"

To think, the crew had been all smiles just hours ago...

Though, in all actuality... most of Zoro's anger was directed at himself.

He had a bad feeling about the day from the moment he woke up in your shared bed, an ominous presence already lingering in the air.

And the moment you said you were going ashore, he knew he should've gone with you.

But he didn't

And that was on him.

Even after that, he had a chance to pull you away from the others, to drag you off by your arm and force you to stay back with him.

But he didn't

And that was on him.

But, of course, you had to pay the price, fighting for your life against... well, he didn't even know.

What he did know, however, was that if you died, he would never be the same.

Within your hand, you held a chunk of his heart; a chunk of his mind; a chunk of his soul.

God, he didn't even get to see you smile one last time.

What kind of boyfriend was he?

What kind of man was he?

How could he—?

"Zoro..." Robin stated, somberly, her voice cutting through his spiral as she and Chopper exited the medbay.

The poor boy was clinging to her leg, sadly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he hid his face in the flesh of her calf.

In an instant, Zoro stopped all his struggling, turning to them with a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.

"You should go see her... she needs you."

The moment the words hit his ears, he was moving, completely forgetting about Sanji and the others as he rushed into the room.

Inside, it was dim, the only light being a candle on the nightstand.

On the bed, you sat upright, feet dangling over the edge and arms crossed your bare chest as you looked down at yourself, shamefully.

"(y/n)..." Zoro exhaled, swiftly shutting the door behind himself to protect your modesty. "Are you alright?"

He crossed the room in wide strides, taking only a few steps to get to you.

From what he could see, you were unharmed; nothing like what he'd imagined based on the crew's reactions.

Impaled.

Dismembered.

Maimed.

Now, it seemed as if they were over-reacting...

When you didn't answer, his brows furrowed, hand coming up to carefully cup your cheek, concern spiking in his veins when you refused to look at him.

"(y/n)?" he tried again, thumb slightly gliding over your cheek. "What happened?"

Faintly, an idea popped into his head, reigniting the embers of anger that had been burning in chest only moments ago.

"Did someone touch you?"

At that question, a few stray tears escaped the corners of your eyes, forcing you to cower further into yourself.

It all was finally starting to click.

Your shame.

Usopp's hysterics.

Why Nami and Robin were the ones asked to assist.

'No...'

"(y/n)..." Zoro started, tone dangerously low. "Turn around."

Lip quivering, you followed his orders, letting out a few sniffles as you slowly turned.

Sitting back on your knees, you swiped your hair over your shoulder, revealing something Zoro never thought he'd see again.

The Claw of a Celestial Dragon.

Being so far away from Sabaody, the swordsman had ruled it as a near impossibility.

But seeing it so clearly, so painfully etched into your skin... it was impossible to deny.

You had been kidnapped by the Celestial Dragons, and branded... just before Sanji, Usopp, and Franky could save you.

Every pass of his eyes over your seared flesh tore out another shred of his heart, breaking him down to the white meat with your every tremble.

When you two got together, Zoro had swore to himself that he'd protect you, that any weapon made against you would fall at the hand of his blade.

That was his promise.

That was his word.

And it had just been broken.

"Zoro..." you choked up, turning back around and dropping your head in his chest, hands gripping onto his robe for dear life. "It hurts..."

Your voice felt like a punch to the gut, the swordsman's calloused hands rising to rest on your shoulders, thumbs drawing soothing circles into your skin.

Though, it wasn't long after that he became eerily quiet, expression morphing into one of something... terrifying.

Carefully, he scooped you up, wary of your burn as he laid you down on your side, leaning over to whisper something important into your ear.

". . ."

At that, your eyes widened, and he placed a firm kiss on your cheek before turning to exit the room.

On his way out, he tugged his bandana off his arm, pointedly tying it over his head before shrugging off the sleeves of his robe.

As he emerged, the blood of everyone on deck ran cold, the aura floating around the swordsman nothing short of bloodthirsty.

They had seen him before a battle countless times.

Incredibly focused.

Incredibly quiet.

Incredibly calm.

But it was nothing like that.

The sheer weight of his glare made it perfectly clear that nobody in that auction house—or possibly, on the island—was going to survive.

"Luffy..." Zoro's voice rumbled, as if he was holding back a roar of fury, the man not even having to turn around to know that his captain was on the balcony behind him.

"I know," Luffy nodded, voice low and hat shading his eyes as he stood there. "Do what you have to do."

That was all the confirmation he needed.

In an instant, his swords were drawn, and before the others could even comprehend it, he was already in the air and on shore, sprinting at a near inhuman speed toward the center of he island.

The moment Zoro learned you had been hurt, he knew he would've had to kill the bastard that did it before the day was over.

But the moment he saw that damned mark, he knew that not only would he kill the bastard that did it, but anyone even remotely affiliated.

And, in the end, Luffy had to hunt him down and bring him back to senses, practically dragging him back to the Sunny as Kizaru chased behind.

Not only had Zoro killed the Celestial Dragon that branded you, but also everyone that worked at the auction... nearly destroying the entire island in the process.

[callmegallifreya]

I shall tell you a secret about your wool, your cashmere, the delicate fainting fabrics two whom heat is a death knell.

Necromancy is real.

Also, your dead wool may be better for it.

Also-also nobody here has actually said how to clean it without killing it so I'll add that too.

So - within reason, the doll's jumper is not going back to an adult, but hear me out here.

If you have washed your jumper a tad too warm, or on a normal wash setting, and perhaps it is now of a more suitable size for a child, a lot of the shrinkage may be caused by felting.

Felting is when the wet fibres, with the scales that make up the outer layer lifted by detergent and heat, lock to each other like tangled christmas lights. The more you agitate them, the more felted they get. This is why the delicate cycle on your machine doesn't so much churn up your woolens as it does let them soak and gently wavepool side to side occasionally to circulate the water.

Felted or boiled wool has no gaps. When all of the fibres have locked together it is windproof, nearly waterproof, and will never unravel. You can cut a hole in felt and it will only get bigger if you tear it bigger. Depending on the degree of felting it may be thicker now too.

With that out of the way, what is the necromancy side of this?

Well, if you get it wet again, depending on the level of felting, your wool will stretch right back out.

If you see a new wool garment, you'll see the washing instructions say "reshape when wet". This is because just like your hair, if you let it dry in a funny position it'll stay that way. We've all accidentally let one dry on a radiator or over a corner and ended up with a very odd shaped bit of fabric.

Felting is just a very funny position for wool. It's basically matted, wet hair.

I've seen recommendations for using hair conditioner and other products here to help loosen it up, which I haven't tried - certainly give it a go, especially if your jumper is more delicate or only a little felted. It may come back to life with no/very little further intervention. I've had great results with sheer brute force.

Disclaimer: I am a limp noodle and my idea of "pull hard" is not the same as everyone's.

Get that jumper absolutely drenched in your solution of choice (I do it after a wash so woolite, there are lots of guides and recommendations online for best results), grab it on opposite sides and pull. Enlist a friend for even better (and more even) results. Pull in the direction of the knit and across the knit but not diagonally if you can avoid it.

There will probably be concerning ripping noises if there's any more than a tiny bit of felting, like velcro pulling apart. It's fine. Keep pulling. (Steady pressure, don't yank)

Don't forget to do the arms in both directions too, you want them wide enough to get your own arm back inside them.

Stop when your clothing is the size and shape you want it to be. You can even try it on to be sure and wear it like shrink-to-fit jeans since wool is marvelously insulating and will be warm even when wet once you get over the problem of putting on a cold wet jumper.

Now, this is not a total fix - if you only a little shrunk it, it'll be good as new. If you shrunk it a lot it's probably gone down a couple of sizes even after you've stretched it back out like you're trying to tear it in half. You also need to remember to do this after every time you wash that particular garment. But hopefully some of you will save and wear some beloved items that you thought were gone forever.

Have fun!

Oh, and to clean your wool: -Pick up a wool-specific detergent (I use Woolite, there's lots) - and either

a) bung it in your machine on a delicates/wool cycle and be done with it, reshaping whilst wet and drying flat so the weight of it doesn't stretch it in funny ways over your airer (do not tumble dry, see felting above) or

b) hand-wash, which is a whole lot of swishing and squishing it about in a sink or bucket with the detergent and water at a comfortable temperature for you to stick your hands in. Avoid scrubbing on or with anything (no brushes, no stain remover balls, none of that) and if you have a stubborn spot grab two sections of the fabric and rub on each other like you're charging a defibrillator - as little as you can manage until spot is gone or you start to worry about the texture changing (felting again). A scrub with your hand from the inside can also sometimes get a stain loose by forcing the detergent up behind it and if you do felt it it's not as visible. Rinse a lot and wring out hard, then reshape and air dry it flat.

Here, a cheater course on caring for natural fibers!

1. Wool. Treat it like it has the delicate constitution of a Victorian lady and the conviction that baths are evil of a 17th century noble. (If I get in WATER my PORES will OPEN and I will CATCH ILL AND DIE.)

2. Cotton; easygoing. Will shrink a bit if washed and dried hot.

3. Silk; people think it’s like wool and has the constitution of a fashionably dying of consumption Victorian lady, but actually it’s quite tough. Can be washed in an ordinary washer, and either tumbled dry without heat or hung to dry.

4. Linen; it doesn’t give a shit. Beat the hell out of it. Historically was laundered by dousing it in lye and beating the shit out of it with wooden paddles, which only makes it look better. The masochist of the natural fiber world. Beat the fuck out of it linen doesn’t care. Considerably stronger than cotton. Linen sheet sets can last literal decades in more or less pristine shape because of that strength.The most likely natural fiber to own a ball gag.

[starboye]

starring: alexander "konig" kilgore x male reader

request: just thinking about innocent naive reader getting corrupted and not even noticing a single thing because he just want to be a good friend. . .

warnings: smut + angst, yander!konig, kinda obsessive, handjob

konig was such a good friend to you, he would never do anything to hurt such a pretty thing like you and plus you were both best friends so nothing was ever kept a secret between you two, so imagine konigs' face when you announce you have a date with some guy.

watching his face crack into a soft smile and telling you how happy he is for you but behind those eyes he was mad as hell, i mean who does this new guy think he is to try and take you from him, and it gets even worse when you come back from the date the next night and tell konig about how you loved it so much with the biggest smile on your face.

as much as he wants to feel happy for you he just cant imagine anyone else stealing him from you so he makes up a lie "i don't know about him y/n" he blankly making you question him "what do you mean" you ask him "i just have a weird feeling about him" he continues looking at you with the most beautiful eyes "well what if you just get to know him" you try to give an idea but konig pipes up with "you know my gut feeling is usually always right"

and he was kinda right i mean there was that one time you had feeling for this one guy and it turned out he was actually arrested for murder, or at least that's what konig told you (he pulled some strings at the police station and got what he wanted) "well then yeah i guess i can stop seeing him" you say and within seconds konigs arms are wrapped around you and he's thanking you for trusting him.

and queue the constant run of you finding a good guy and konig coercing you to stop seeing them because he has a 'gut feeling' and you trust him, but really he just wants you all to himself, making you depend on him more and more as time goes on by telling you if you ever need help with anything to call him and you do, calling him for even the littlest inconvenience.

whether that be helping you fix something or letting you cry on his shoulder when you get layed of from your job (after he pulled a few more strings and made it seem like you were a bad employee) and offering you a room at his place since you were short on money and couldn't pay your bills.

with you moved in now he can be so much closer to you, sneaking through your things at any chance he could and whats this it seems like you need some new clothes since all yours seem to be gone (he used all of them to jerk off and now they're ruined with his cum) so he takes you to the mall, carrying all your bags as you go to every store getting all the things you want, but hm it seems you need some help trying on those pants why doesn't he help you.

"you sure you're okay with that" you ask him "yeah it's what friends are for" he says helping you but on the jeans that hugged your ass so well, it was no surprise he got a boner, it straining so hard in his pants he just needed some release "fuck baby i need your help" he groans "what's wrong konig" you asked and he moved your hand to the aching bulge in his sweatpants "please just this once" he pleaded and after some consideration you agreed, i mean it was just a one time thing between two friends right.

pulling his pants down his thick cock flops out and you immediately work on fixing it for him, his grip tightening on the top of the dressing room door, your hand rubbing back and forth on his achingly hard boner, this was like his dream, he had thought about this exact thing so much, jerked off to the thought and feel of it but the real things is so much better than he hand.

"fucking shit y/n" he muttered before cumming on your hand, thick load messing up your hand as he let out shuddering breaths, and after that it became a regular thing, konig being all needy and asking you to come help him get off since you did it best (in reality you weren't the best at it but don't worry he'll train you soon enough).

and time after time it seemed you liked it more and more to the enjoyment of konig, maybe just a few more times and you'll tell him how you've had feeling for him to right?

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧ THE LAST TIME THEY SAW YOU ୧ PAC

Hello my lovelies! Welcome to another pick a card. This reading is all about the last time you saw them! We will be looking into their feelings and thoughts, as well as channeling extra songs and messages from this person. Feedback, likes and reblogs help me grow my platform and are highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.comvia paypal! xo ♡

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›    none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise. ›    personal readings are available!

HOW TO CHOOSE YOUR PILE.  take a few deep breaths and look at each picture separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ༉ ‧

how were they feeling the last time they saw you? knight of swords ‧ eight of pentacles ‧ queen of wands ‧ the emperor ‧ eight of cups

Oh, this person was trying to look unbothered. Busy. They were trying to make it seem like they were completely over you and not at all tempted to take a leap towards you. They were holding back their fire, their impulsivity, holding onto logic and stoicism.

This person is proud, okay, really proud. They've got a big ego and along with it, a lot of self-denial, especially when it comes to their feelings towards you. It's almost as if they feel nothing at all, but this Emperor looks nervous, he looks fidgety, like he is trying to keep his hands busy and his eyes away from the Queen of Wands. Many of the messages felt very 18+, lol.

If they left the scene early, it's probably because of you. You made them feel off, you made them feel out of control, uneasy. This person's attraction towards you is no joke, but they're not ready to deal with those feelings yet. It's as if your presence is a hurricane, taking everything down, making them question everything they worked so hard to build. Jesus, pile one, I don't know what you've done to this person, but it has a very intense emotional and physical effect on them.

what were they thinking the last time they saw you? nine of wands ‧ five of swords ‧ four of cups ‧ page of wands ‧ seven of swords

They were focusing on keeping their feelings under wraps. Not only were their nervous, but also quite sneaky. Depending on who this person is, they may have been trying to look happy with other people, so moved on, all the while feeling miserable. If the two of you talked, they may have sneaked in a few white lies about how happy they were to meet you, how good they're doing, etc.

But mostly, their mind was all over the place. They kept trying to make themselves look cooler than how they really felt, planning how they were moving, who they were going to talk to... how they'd approach you, how they'd make you jealous or make you feel inferior. This person is extremely competitive - big ego, like I said. Whatever has happened between the two of you lingers a lot on their mind and leaves them feeling ungrounded, anxious and out of control.

If a fight happened between the two of you, that's what they were thinking of. They had all the comebacks, but held back from fighting. For most of you, they just wanted to rub their happiness, their joy in your face. Regardless of how much of a lie that actually is.

channeled songs and messages. she's so gone by lemonade mouth, liar liar pants on fire, champagne, best friends forever, necklace, silver, diamond ring, "she looks nothing like you", olivia rodrigo, beef, cindy lou who by sabrina carpenter.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༉ ‧

how were they feeling the last time they saw you? seven of cups ‧ ten of wands ‧ death ‧ ten of pentacles ‧ four of wands

Gosh, they were overwhelmed inside, pile two. All the what ifs, the yearning and the missing you caught up to this person. They grieved the could've been... or perhaps they grieved what was, for some of you. Right then and there, they realized it may have been to late to fix things, to make them right again. Although they wanted to, they were too tired to bother. The sight of you was enough to bring back old memories, many of which they were probably trying to forget or get over.

A specific song came to my mind for this pile, called The Dress by Dijon. It tells the story of two people meeting up again after some time and they both seem to miss each other, still a little hurt from the breakup - but the feelings are not bitter, just sweet and intense.

For most, they felt a mixture of feelings. They probably didn't let you in on it, but it was there. Joy, sadness, hurt, anger. A lot of these emotions at once, which made them realize that they still hold out a candle for you. They still hope for something more, even if this connection is in limbo right now, their heart could not stop longing for more. There's a lot of fantasizing as well, which is why I'll get to the next portion of the reading!

what were they thinking the last time they saw you? the hanged man ‧ five of cups ‧ the devil ‧ the hermit ‧ ace of pentacles

They figured some time should go by until both of you heal some more before trying again. Honestly, this person may be intentionally giving you some space until the two of you can talk or have something more solid, more stable. They thought the wounds and hurt was too fresh, the regret still lingers and they still feel tied to these unhealthy patterns or behaviors that led to your demise.

If they treated you poorly, ghosted, rejected or even cheated on you, they deeply regret it. They may not have said it, but they're sorry for the way things turned out.

However, they want to heal. They're being more strategic about themselves, looking inward, trying to discover the aspects of them that probably unconsciously ruined this relationship. They seem pretty serious about leaving the past behind, to give it some time until the connection can be renewed. Maybe later down the line, when both of you are older, you'll be able to sit down and talk, once the two of you have forgiven your past mistakes and the regrets are not so heavy on their mind. Even if as friends, they wouldn't want to miss out on this opportunity.

channeled songs and messages. all too well by tswift, birthday candles, night time, silk dress, "stupid", 777, "i should have known", secret playlist, see you again, 405, train, bus, we meet by chance, pictures off the wall, country, folk, 00's pop.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ༉ ‧

how were they feeling the last time they saw you? page of swords ‧ nine of pentacles ‧ knight of cups ‧ the hanged man ‧ the moon

Feelings they tried to bury deep within have come out and made this person realize they really like you. They were curious - they wanted to know if you were single, if you were seeing someone... how you were doing. But gosh, they felt so insecure, indecisive and confused. This person has deep-seated fears when it comes to relationships that they may not let on.

They wanted to talk, to reach out, to ask you out. For most of you, this is an intense crush. They like you, they do, but they have self-sabotaging tendencies that stall them, that make them stay in one place and never move. Even if this Knight of Cups doesn't wish to, he moves away from the woman in the 9 of Pentacles, like he's a walking contradiction.

This person is not used to these feelings. They seem much like a small child discovering something quite obvious to everyone else but them. I hear Rubik's Cube by Athlete in my mind, you should definitely check out the lyrics if this reading resonates.

You make them question their sanity, almost. Not in a bad way, but you've intrigued them, haunted their heart because they have been trying to figure out why these feelings are there, just why they like and want you so much, but there's just no answer. You make them giddy, you make them excited, a little nervous and high up in the clouds. They just don't want you to know that yet.

what were they thinking the last time they saw you? the empress ‧ the moon ‧ two of pentacles ‧ ace of swords ‧ the fool

Quite literally, they could not stop thinking about your beauty. You stand out to this person even if you're not trying to. They just wanted to focus on something else, but their mind kept being drawn towards you, their eyes couldn't get enough of your beauty, your charm, how intelligent, whole and perfect you seem in their eyes.

No matter how they tried to control their thoughts, their hidden world came to the surface. They were forced to acknowledge that yes, they do like you and they might have to do something about it. To take a leap of faith even if it makes them look foolish, childish or stupid in your eyes. They knew they'll have to do it scared if they want to be with you, they'll have to face their fears and insecurities in order to be worthy of you.

They may have been weighing the pros and cons in their mind as well, but the answer was bravery, courage. The cards here suggest they want to do something bold, they definitely have thought about it long enough to realize coming towards you will be a big step, but the great start of an adventure for the two of you.

channeled songs and messages. start of something new by high school musical, late night nostalgia, november, december, aquarius, pisces, venus, libra, 2, 222, breakthrough, "out with the old, in with the new", new year's eve.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ༉ ‧

how were they feeling the last time they saw you? the world ‧ seven of swords ‧ the chariot ‧ two of wands ‧ ten of pentacles

I'm not really sure what kind of connection you may have with this person, but they were quite literally feeling on top of the world. They wanted to show off, they felt successful, accomplished - almost to an arrogant, overbearing degree - and surrounded by good things. They were likely wearing fancy clothes, being loud in the crowd, trying to catch everybody's attention, but especially yours.

It may not have seemed like they were trying to gain your approval because they seemed just so fine and comfortable in the spotlight, but secretly, they were hoping you'd look their way and feel that way about them: successful, well-known, well-read, handsome, accomplished.

Maybe they had a few too many drinks to begin with, or maybe they just partied too hard, but the feeling here is one of humble-bragging whilst simultaneously showering oneself in praise. It's quite interesting, to be honest, but the heart of the matter is that they were feeling good, looking good and they wanted to make sure you would see that. I wouldn't be surprised if this person hit on someone or several different people to try and make you jealous. The energy is not malicious, but extremely immature, f-boy almost.

what were they thinking the last time they saw you? queen of pentacles ‧ six of swords ‧ knight of cups ‧ five of pentacles ‧ five of cups

This is oddly specific, but, you probably didn't give them an ounce of attention. If you did, they didn't think it was enough. They took your actions as rejection, because you seemed so healed, so fine, so unbothered and joyful that this person could not help but think negatively afterwards.

Whatever their plan was, it didn't work with you. If they tried to play mind games, to sweep you off your feet and make you come towards them... it didn't work, so they saw themselves as some sort of failure. This person has a very fluctuating self-esteem, they seem to rely a lot on the opinions and actions of others to define their self-worth.

For whatever reason, they were hoping to gain your approval - but the fact they didn't get whatever they wanted from you made them pity themselves. They may have spent the night over-analyzing, moping to friends or to themselves about it, wondering why you didn't give them a chance, why you didn't look their way.

channeled songs and messages. "homeboy", friends with benefits, dior, crowded place, 666, rap, hip hop, freestyle, ice on my teeth by ateez, overspending, prada, diamond tears, big checks, blackpink, money by lisa, expensive perfume, menswear.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content!

DISCLAIMER. tarot is a divination tool, it’s not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. be mindful ♡

[what-is-this-car]

Nope.

So let's find some!

How To Identify Cars

(even if you know nothing about cars)

I should first start by noting that I've already written a guide on telling cars apart, but that's different from identifying them - chiefly because in that context concluding "this is not any car that I know" is a success, since it means you've told it apart from the ones you do know. If you work out what car it is every time that happens, that will eventually lead to enough knowledge and experience to identify cars at a glance. But gradually learning cars as you go through life is rather different than having a specific car (or worse, a shred of it) that you NEED the name of harder than the guy from the memes wants pictures of Spiderman. Hence, this guide.

Properly going over the topic requires me to once again flaunt my studies in perceptual psychology like it isn't the one exam I failed and twice at that recapping what actually happens when you recognize something. That is, your mind analyzes the shape it's looking at, scanning it for traits and features, compares what it notices with items in its database, and identifies a match.

Experience helps with all aspects of that.

It improves analysis, because it trains you to parse the shape and scan it for distinctive traits. Where one may see this...

...I saw this.

It also may mean, with good luck, already being familiar enough with the car in question to recognize it instantly. Or without that luck, as per this case, using the aforementioned details to narrow down the possibilities. For example, the transverse engine indicates a front wheel drive car, and the round, aerodynamic but unfussy styling is clearly from no sooner than the early 90s (not that the custom shaped headlights didn't already give that away) and no later than the late 00s. This narrowed the search quite significantly, and pointed me to potential suspects, like the Ford Falcon's sixth generation (known as AU)...

...though this couldn't be it because the lower edge of the side window is rounded and much lower than that of the windshield. But hey, that's one more detail to note!

So how about the Honda Civic's sixth generation (known as EK)?

Not this either, since the top of the fender follows a gentle upper curve along with the windshield, where in our car the top of the fender's flat, and the door's frame falls beneath the front pillar of the roof (known as the A pillar), where in our car it stretches over to conceal it (trait first introduced in 1980 by the 🇮🇹Giorgetto Giugiaro🇮🇹-designed Isuzu Piazza, btw).

But that's two more details we've noticed!

Then what about the Chevrolet (/Toyota) Cavalier?

See? Now I don't even need to explain why not, because noticing the discrepancies in the cars above taught us details about the car we're looking for and taught us where to look, and thanks to that experience we spot discrepancies here!

This to say, where the experience can't manage it, sheer trial and error fills in the gaps. It's what many people will tell you about failure: try long enough and, if you'll keep learning what worked and what didn't, you'll ultimately end up knowing what you need to. So armed with all the knowledge we've gone over, I went about ruling out a lot of other cars, like the fourth generation Honda Prelude or the Saturn SL1.

But some may not know those cars to begin with. And I must assume they'll be delighted to find out that at one point I just googled "90s sedan" and just checked all images for potential fits one by one. Again, sheer trial and error. Well, not really, since I already knew to look among 90s cars, but again that could come with trial and error if you had a keen enough eye to notice older cars' lines were too flat and newer cars' were too... more.

But even then, the terms were way too wide, and even needing just a lightning's span to assess each picture still presented an insurmountable task. So I used that which is not just my greatest strength, but every single human's, even those delusional enough to believe otherwise:

my brethren.

Yep. Surprisingly enough, even despite my use of light mode the friendly people in the things-about-cars-in-posts Discord server were people willing to help me.

And it was a daunting task, largely due to the heartbreakingly cruel combination of crop and resolution. Lights and front bumper, which as I've gone over previously are the most distinctive elements of a car, are just shy of featured, and the badge on the front is just shy of sharp enough to be parsed. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that with 10 more rows of pixels I would probably have clocked it in 10 seconds. But as it was, thanks to the power of multiple perspectives and knowledge bases, theories flew in every which direction, from the Hyundai Tiburon/Tuscani (nope, exposed A pillars) to the Ford Mondeo (same as above and flatter lines) to the Escort (the Ford, not me. Neither was it.)

We stumbled in the dark for over six hours, until the legend that is friend of things-about-cars-in-posts and member of this blog @brick-enthusiast came in clutch and finally released us from the torment:

And yes, I reacted with my trademark gratitude.

In my defense, my brain kept rightly insisting it was a 90s Chevrolet but stopped just shy of remembering the Lumina.

And now you can appreciate just how mean the crop was. I think a single row of pixels would have clearly shown the wheel well to be that close to the fender crease, which would've been a useful element.

Oh well. We've made it now. It's the second generation Chevrolet Lumina.

And this is a brand new collective blog for car identification whose point is precisely that, instead of replying with behemoths like these as I do in @things-about-cars-in-posts causing me to take months to provide a simple answer, the posts will just be a couple of lines about what model the car is and, if relevant, how one can tell. And you can be part of the people involved (pretty please) by joining the aforementioned Discord and asking about the cult. Er, the cult. Er, what-is-this-car.

So for the sake of ceremony, allow me to state:

This car is a second generation (1995-2001) Chevrolet Lumina.

See: the fender's crease and its flat upper edge, the windshield pillars covered by the edge of the door, the windshield's bottom line lining up with the front window's.

[onlyrains]

[5:21pm]

genre: comfort, fluff wc: 1.1k ┊not proofread!

you are nothing near from being the greatest singer of the century, to begin with. you're not even a singer at all. but layla, a border collie of your best friend's–jake, might be your first fan ever.

whenever she sees you around in some comfortable circumstances, she's never hesitate to lay down beside you and sometimes even rest her jaw on your thigh. on top of that, one day when jake come to your place to check on you while you lay sick on your bed, she also lies and put her paw on your arm.

she keeps ignoring her nature as one of the most active and energetic breed and you have a soft spot for her also. so of course, you always gladly sing for her. you even made a playlist to sing for her, which full of coldplay's old songs that you found she loves the most.

as an owner, jake found this quite beneficial sometimes when he needs to done his things but very much confused at the same time. what's up with your voice? he's a good singer too. people even recognize him for that. but why's his dog, his best buddy, his love, never react the way she does for you?

"she's my child, jake." you always say.

"stop saying that. i literally clean, do the chores, and work for her?" and he always replies.

today, as he promised yesterday, he came to your place with layla. and no, you're not sick today, it's apparently the opposite. he arrived with a pissed, frustrated face and refuse to talk fifteen minutes ago. he's just walks around your living room with his disheveled white office shirt.

you continue to read your book while playing with layla's hair and humming to coldplay's song. you make sure to open your bedroom door widely to let him know that he can come in when he's ready. it's not the first time you've seen jake in this state and you know the best way to deal with it is just let him do anything he wants. he will talk about it when he's tired.

speaking of which, the tail of your eye catches his movement towards you. well, maybe it is a very serious matter since he has never got tired this quick.

"what's up?" you snap, closing your book on your stomach. layla got up at your sudden movement as she sees her owner walks in your direction. she jumps on the floor and her favorite song is now long gone.

"jake?" he sits on layla's spot earlier and lets out a deep sigh.

"it's work." his eyes looking at the white sheets beneath him and draw an imaginary circle with his index.

"i know. wanna talk about it?"

he drags his body to lay next to you, head burried in your pillow while his arms stretched out to his side and your neck, almost choking you.

"i don't know, girl. i'm just... tired."

"is it that bad?" you ask carefully.

he nods. "there's a problem with the project and this mf blame me for it," he groans. thank god your pillow muffled his voice.

"oh? what a prick."

"can you sing for me?" he raises his head.

you never turn your head so fast.

"what?" you blurt out a laugh.

he lies on his side, perfectly facing you. "oh, c'mon. you always make layla chill out with it."

"but you're not layla?"

"i'm her owner, you know. she's my daughter. like father like dau–"

"okay, stop. you started sound silly,"

"babe, c'mon. i just need to sleep. you know how much effort i put on this project? i barely had a proper sleep,"

as soon as that pet name came out of his mouth you know it's hard to win over him. he will starts pleading as soon as he can, so you let out a heavy sigh and stretch your arm reluctantly.

"c'mere,"

the next thing you know, he already burried his head on your shoulder. well, actually, this is your first time being this close with him in this kind of position despite your nth years of friendship.

so when he’s seemingly already found his spot on the crook of your neck, you can't help but squirm a little, but jake is too quick to catch your waist to prevent you from moving anywhere.

"don't move." he says against your neck.

you bite your inner cheek to hold back a sharp gasp that almost come out of nowhere.

you take a deep breath before placing your hand on his head, brushing his hair lightly. you decide to continue to sing to spark, which was previously forcibly cut off.

"my heart is yours," you start to whisper.

"it's you that i hold on to,

that's what i do,

and i know i was wrong,

but i won't let you down,

mmm, yeah, i will, yeah, i will, yes, i will," your voice get slightly lower.

"i said, oh,

i cry, oh,

yeah, i saw sparks,

yeah, i saw sparks." you massage his scalp lightly.

"sing it out,

la la la la la la,"

you feel his breathing becomes steady while in fact he's just enjoying his action to inhaling your scent that mixed with a soft fragrant from your newly washed sweater. he has never been this relax in a long time.

you keep on with the lyrics in humming as your eyes glued to the plain ceiling of your room. you feel his arm is still lazily attached to your waist then what are you doing, really? is it normal to cuddle your friend from high school? is it okay to comfort your guy friend like this?

you haven't finished think about that but jake already raised his head.

his eyes slightly red from the drowsiness that suddenly hit him but the smile on his mouth is as wide as ever. "y'know, layla actually has a good taste."

a heat suddenly strikes your cheek, causing it to turn to a shade of red.

his head turns to his dog on the floor. "dang, my girl is talented, for real."

you roll your eyes at him. "okay, now move."

he's quick to back on his previous spot, even more suffocating right now as he pulls you impossibly close to his body.

he tilts his head upward to face you. his wet eyes stares at you so innocently, which quite opposite to his actions that practically hugging you so tight while trying to sleep.

"ey, c'mon, don't be so stingy," he snuggles to you, again.

you bite your lip this time. maybe you just as tired as him, but you swear, you saw the sparks.

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"Tired"

caitlyn kiramman x puppy!reader word count: 900 summary: your owner comes home tired note: what if i write nsfw version later...

you're lying on the couch, staring at the door across from you, waiting for caitlyn. she came in at about the same time every day, so you were always waiting for her at the door, wagging your tail. but something didn't go according to plan today - she's been gone for too long and you've already started to worry.

at first, as usual, you were sitting by the door, listening attentively to the noise outside, but you still couldn't hear her footsteps. it alerted you, but you tried not to panic ahead of time – she works so it was okay if she was a few minutes late, right?

but an hour passed, and then two.

you've already been walking around the door in circles, not finding a place for yourself to calm down. the whining turned into howls, and you could feel your whole body starting to ache with longing for caitlyn, your mistress and your owner. It was unbearable. It seemed like a lot more time had passed than it actually was, but you couldn't help yourself.

you needed caitlyn like air, if not more.

you tried to distract yourself by walking around the apartment, chewing on your favorite toys that caitlyn bought you to calm down, but nothing helped. your thoughts kept returning to her and to the anxiety that grew with every moment that you spent alone.

and finally you heard the familiar footsteps. you immediately raise your head and look at the door, your ears raised in anticipation, and your tail starts banging furiously on the couch by itself. your heart freezes with excitement, as if it was for the first time, and you run to the door, scratching the floor with your claws.

the door opens and you don't even wait for caitlyn to enter the apartment completely – you run towards her, putting your paws on her stomach, tail swaying from side to side.

“caitlyn! cate! I missed you!” you immediately start whining, looking at her with eyes full of longing and love, but in response she only rudely pushes you away. she doesn't hug you or pat you by the ear, as she usually does, which immediately makes your heart sink.

“let me go inside! gosh!” caitlyn hisses in response, making you take a step back in disbelief and pressing your ears to the back of your head. you don't understand what's going on and it scares you.

you want to ask more questions, you want to know what happened, but you don't know if caitlyn will answer you. you don't want to make her angry. you want her to be proud of you, to love you, so you just nod shortly, trying not to make a sound. 

caitlyn exhales loudly and slams the door, and you flinch at the tension in the air. 

you try not to look at her directly, as you usually do, but you can't bring yourself to turn away from her either – you watch as she throws the raincoat from her shoulders down and goes into the living room, slightly shuffling her feet on the floor from exhaustion. you feel sorry for her. you want to do something, but you feel completely powerless.

you follow her quietly, trying not to get too close and keep at least some distance. you watch caitlyn flop down on the couch and tilt her head back, staring at the ceiling before closing her eyes. you hesitate, but still carefully sit down a couple of meters away from her, impatiently stamping your paws on the floor. 

something needs to be done... but how can you do it so that caitlyn doesn't get mad?

“come here,” you blink a couple of times, lifting your head to her. she doesn't even look at you, but her voice sounds much softer than when she first came home.

you swallow hard and carefully approach her, hopping onto the couch. you want to snuggle up to her with your cold nose, but you try not to make any sudden movements.

caitlyn's head slowly turns in your direction and you notice the bags under her eyes and how pale she looks. she reaches out to you and gently puts her hand on your head, ruffling your hair and scratching behind your ear, the way you like it.

“I'm sorry for yelling,” her voice is quiet and tired, and you don't even notice how your tail starts wagging at her touch.

“I was worried about you,” you admit anyway and crouch even closer, gently placing your paw on her thigh, as if somehow trying to calm her down. 

caitlyn smiles sadly and nods, her lips barely moving as she whispers, “just tired.”

you frown a little and lean closer to her, your rough tongue touching her neck in slow movements, leaving a wet trail. you can hear her soft sigh, her hand is still stroking your hair. 

“do you want me to...”

“no,” she abruptly interrupts you and pulls away, wiping your saliva from her skin. you immediately feel like you've said too much, that you’ve done too much and just pushed caitlyn away, but she pats her lap and shakes her head, “let's just sit here.”

you nod immediately and lie down on the couch, resting your head on her lap. her fingers tangle in your hair, but you don't pay attention. your tail slowly hits the couch for pleasure and you stretch, relaxing your body and getting comfortable.

“good girl...”

[curseofhecate]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU | LN4

an: This is based on Merry Christmas, I miss you by Alex Crichton. It can be read as part to to merry christmas, please don't call. Again, depressing but I can't help it. This is Lando's point of view.

w.c.: 1.3k

December 25th, Christmas.

The view from the cabin was captivating. Especially now that the sun had gone down and it was snowing again. Everything outside seemed so calm and peaceful, the complete opposite of the war that was currently going on in Lando’s mind. 

His plan hadn’t been to spend Christmas in a cabin somewhere in the french alps. It had actually been Max's idea, to make their annual ski trip overlap with Christmas this year. He knew his friend very well to know that if Lando was left alone this year on Christmas day he would have ended up wallowing in his sadness. 

The whole day had passed by in a blur. Presents, skiing, food, jokes, card games, it had all been a well revised plan to keep him distracted. And it had worked. Up until now.

It was late in the evening and everyone was off doing their own thing. Lando was sitting on a couch, half watching the snow fall outside through the floor to ceiling window and half watching the movie Pietra and Max, who were cuddling on the other couch. 

Love Actually. He remembered when his girlfriend had forced him to watch it with her around this time last year and how he had complained it was a dumb movie without actually having seen it. Well, ex girlfriend, because he had ruined that.

He hadn’t really meant to. It was something he either did subconsciously or it was out of his control. Usually, he likes to blame their falling out on the distance, on his job, on his career. And while all of those things had played their role in how things progressed between them, what had really destroyed what they had was their communication. Or better said, their lack of. And it killed Lando to admit that his inability to let someone see him for what he really is, had ruined the best thing he had ever gotten hold of.

It is weird how quickly things change.

Exactly a year ago, he could have sworn they’d be infinite. It was the day he had taken her to meet his parents. She was nervous and he had spent the whole car ride down to Bristol reassuring her that his family would love her. What she didn’t know was that they already did. Lando hadn’t stopped talking about her since the day they'd met. 

He had convinced her it wasn’t that big of a thing. Which was a lie because Lando never introduced his girlfriends to his parents. Mainly because most of them couldn’t even be considered girlfriends and fit more into the ‘casual hook ups’ or ‘friends with benefits’ categories.  

He remembered how he had spent most of his time watching her interact with his family and feeling proud about how well she fit in with them. That was the moment that solidified for Lando the feelings he had for her. And as he sat there and watched her interact with his niece we thought about how Christmas would be ten years from now, when they’d be married and have a family of their own. 

It was the moment that made it clear to Lando that this was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl he was going to marry.

If he were honest, he always knew. From the moment he first saw her, at the back of that party on Christmas day two years ago with a drink in her hand and looking awkward, he knew that something was different about her. 

When he first walked up to her, Lando was nervous. Which was the most unlike Lando thing ever. Normally he was really open and comfortable around people, the definition of an extrovert. But for some reason this was different.

The first thing he told her was some lame joke about both of them being out of place since they knew no one and their friends ditched them, He didn’t get much of a response, except for a forced smile, and for a bit lando felt as if he was having a one sided conversation. But the longer he kept talking the more at ease she started to feel around him. 

The walls didn’t really come down until Lando made another joke about something stupid, what he couldn’t remember. What he remembered though was the way she had thrown her head back laughing. And from that moment, he was a goner. 

It was crazy to think how two years ago they didn’t even know each other and last year at this time she was curled up against him, head on his chest with his arms wrapped around her and watching cheesy Christmas movies. And now she is gone. He had lost her. 

Sometimes he wondered what he could have done differently. He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault and some things were out of their control but he couldn’t help but want to go back and change everything. 

What he had felt for her, he hadn’t felt for anyone else before, and he was convinced he wouldn’t feel for anyone else in the future. 

Usually he tried not to think about that. During the season it was easy. He was preoccupied with races and the possibility of winning the drivers championship. Being a formula 1 driver didn’t allow him much time to wallow in his self pity. 

But now, it is really difficult. Especially considering how he kept thinking about the Christmas they’d spent together last year. The look on her face when he’d told her it was too early to blast Christmas songs on November 1st, the domestic feeling it brought him decorating his London apartment together, the way she’d force him to do silly childish activities, like baking cookies and decorating gingerbread houses and how he’d complain even though he always ended up loving it.

Waking up with her in his arms on Christmas morning and pretending to be asleep as soon as she started stirring, just to make the moment last longer, knowing well that she wouldn’t have the heart to wake him up. It all haunted him.

But most of all, it was the what ifs that tormented him.What if she has moved on? What if she’s with someone new? What if he’s nothing but a ghost that lingers in her life?

But then what if she was lonely? What if she missed him as much as he missed her? What if she had realised how big of a mistake this had been? What if she wants to reach out but is afraid to? What if the reason she didn’t is because she thinks he has moved on. 

Lando thought about this far more often that he would like to admit. All he could think about lately was her. And even though he appreciated how his friends tried to distract him he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. 

He missed her. He missed her a lot. How could he not? He was in love with her, he still is. And so he can’t help but wonder whether she would answer if he called. 

He hoped she would. 

Sighing, he picked up his phone and tapped on her contact. He typed out a paragraph, explaining how much he missed her and how he wished he could have her back. His finger hovered over the send button but he hesitated and erased the message, turning off his phone frustrated.

He couldn’t go on like this. 

If she didn’t want to talk then she wouldn’t reply. But if still cared then maybe she would. And for once in his life Lando Norris had nothing to lose. 

He turned on his phone again and typed out another message, hitting the text button and turning off his phone before he could overthink it.

[majorbuckyegan]

don't you break my faded heart

stalag luft III, friends to lovers, first kiss, frottage. (17.2k)

this is my hbo war secret santa gift for @ineededacentralblog hope you enjoy <3

🎄 also on ao3 🎄

Sixty-eight days.

That was how long he'd been trapped at Stalag Luft III, although John could admit that he was already beginning to lose track of the days.

He'd thought that he was doing an okay job of keeping track, but as he laid in his bunk now, counting the marks that he had scratched into the wooden wall of the combine, the number only came to sixty-four. Usually he wouldn't have questioned it, but sixty-four days would only bring them up to the twentieth of December, and he knew that it was Christmas Eve. He couldn't help but wonder where he had lost those four days.

He supposed it didn't really matter, though. Every single day felt the same as the last; each of them blurring into a web of frustration, boredom, and misery. If he hadn't already known that tomorrow was Christmas, he never would have guessed.

The worst part about being stuck here was that there didn't seem to be any end in sight. Who knew just how much longer they'd end up being trapped here. Until the war ended? That could be years away, and the thought of being stuck here for that long made him feel sick to his stomach.

He knew that nobody particularly liked being here, but it sometimes felt as if he was the only one who truly despised it. For the most part, the rest of the guys seemed content to simply wait it out. He couldn't understand it. They were all waiting for something to happen, but he was pretty sure that they needed to make something happen; and he seemed to be the only one who felt that way.

Still, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that any plans of escape would probably have to wait until the weather turned a little better. It was December, and they were God knows where in the middle of Germany. The temperatures at night dropped to a cold that he'd never felt before, the kind of cold that he could feel in his bones. So, with no solid plan, and with very little idea of their surroundings, he knew that it would be suicide to try and escape right now. Unfortunately, that meant resigning himself to the fact that they'd be trapped here until the Spring, at least.

Besides, every half-assed plan that he had come up with so far seemed less likely to work than the last one. Day and night, the fences were watched by eagle-eyed guards, who he knew were only itching to pull the trigger on somebody for acting out of line, and so he knew that a mad dash for the fence wouldn't result in anything other than a bullet in the head.

Over the last week or so, he had taken to going on walks around the block; looping around their combine and down as far as the end of the block, before coming back up along the side of the fence. He hadn't pushed his luck just yet, but he'd been inching closer and closer to the fence with each walk that he'd gone on, and he was pretty sure that he'd figured out the furthest point he could get before the guards in the watchtower started to get a little uneasy.

He wasn't quite desperate enough to make a run for the fence, but sometimes, he couldn't help but let himself wonder if it would really be so bad if he did? He didn't have anybody waiting for him at home, and so what did it matter, really?

Sometimes, he felt as if it would be a kinder fate than being trapped here for God knows how long.

Still, he knew that he'd never actually do it. He still had a responsibility to take care of his men, and he couldn't do that if he was buried in a shallow grave. As much as he sometimes wanted to just.. give up and let himself die, he knew that he had to stay strong for his boys; Brady, DeMarco, Crank, Murph, Hambone.

Gale. Always Gale.

Honestly, most of it was for Gale.

His boys were tough, and he knew that if they had to keep going without him, then they'd find a way to make it happen. When it came to Gale, though, he wasn't so sure, and that was maybe the main reason that he was determined to make it through this. He didn't like to place too much importance on himself, but he and Gale were.. well, honestly, he just knew that he wouldn't survive in here without Gale, and he was pretty sure that the sentiment was returned.

He tried his best not to consider the possibility that his dependency on Gale was completely one sided, because he was pretty sure it would kill him to find out that Gale didn't need him just as badly as he needed him.

He didn't think that was the case, though. When he had first been brought to the prison camp; he had staggered in on unsteady legs, his vision swimming from the pain in his head, as well as his broken ribs. He didn't remember a whole lot from that day, but one thing he did remember with startling clarity was seeing Gale at the fence, and feeling like life had been breathed back into him.

By then, he had convinced himself that Gale was dead, and so seeing Gale’s smile again was the sweetest thing he could have imagined.

He vaguely remembered Gale bringing him to the combine and fussing over him; carefully cleaning the wounds on his face, and patching him up as well as he could with their limited supplies. He hadn't spoken much, but his face had been closed off, and his touch had been careful and gentle as he had cleaned him up.

Once Gale had done all that he could do for him in that moment, they had sat in silence, until Gale had quietly admitted that he'd thought he was dead, that he'd been so scared to think that he was dead. He hadn't known what to say in return, because he wasn't used to that sort of emotion from Gale. So, he had simply taken Gale's hand to give his fingers a gentle squeeze, doing his best to convey everything he couldn't say with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

So, as awful a situation as it had been, he tried to hold onto that memory whenever he felt that Gale didn't need him, or that he'd be fine without him. They hadn't spoken much more about it, but they didn't need to. He knew exactly how Gale had felt when he'd thought that he was dead, and the last thing he wanted was to bring that on him again.

His last few days at Thorpe Abbotts, when he'd thought that Gale was dead, they'd been.. God, he didn't even want to think of it. He didn't want to let himself dwell on how empty he'd felt without Gale; how hopeless, how heartbroken.

He had always known that his feelings for Gale ran deeper than simply friendship, or admiration, or respect. He barely had words to describe just how much Gale meant to him, or how deeply he felt for him, and even though he knew it was wrong, that didn't change anything.

He was a man, he was a Major. He knew that he shouldn't have these kinds of feelings for his best friend, and yet, falling for Gale had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Realizing that he was in love with Gale hadn't felt as terrifying as he'd imagined it would, because he really couldn't pretend that it felt anything other than right.

Still, he wasn't naive enough to believe that there was a chance of his feelings being returned. Gale had Marge waiting for him at home, and he had never been shy about his plans to marry her once the war was over and they finally got to go home. He was happy for him, he really was, and so he had resigned himself to the idea of keeping his feelings to himself forever. It was fine. It was.

Gale was the closest friend he'd ever had, and so while he knew that his romantic feelings for Gale weren't returned, he did know that Gale felt their friendship just as deeply. That was enough for him, and so that was one of the main reasons that he was so determined to get through this. It was the main reason he hadn't made a run for the fence just yet.

Like he'd said earlier, today had been just another day in a long string of days that were all starting to run together. The only reason he even knew what day it was, was because it was Christmas Eve, and he knew that the idea of being stuck here over Christmas had put a lot of the guys in a bit of a sour mood. They'd always known that they wouldn't be home for Christmas, but he'd at least thought that they'd get to celebrate it in England; where it felt like an occasion worth celebrating.

It wasn't quite time for lights out yet, but he had to admit that he was feeling a little bit mopey over the whole situation. He hadn't slept great last night either, and so he was cold, he was tired, and honestly just feeling a little bit sorry for himself, and so what was the point in staying up?

Some of the other guys were still up, sat around the tiny table in the middle of the room and talking quietly amongst themselves as they played cards, and so he knew that he probably wouldn't actually get to sleep until it was lights out. He didn't mind, he knew he wouldn't actually sleep until Gale crawled into the bunk anyway, and so he didn't mind staying awake for a little while longer.

It had been a couple of weeks since they'd made the decision to start doubling up in their bunks at night. It was just too cold to sleep otherwise, and especially since the blankets they'd been given were little more than a thin, raggedy sheet. There was no point in even trying to rely on them to keep warm at night, and so the easiest thing to do was just double up with another guy and attempt to share body heat.

Any reservations that any of the other guys might have had about sharing a bunk with another man had long since faded with the freezing cold temperatures that they had to endure at night. He knew that some of them might be uncomfortable with the idea of it, but he certainly wasn't about to freeze his ass off in the middle of the night, for the sake of preserving his masculinity.

Even now, it was cold, although it wasn't quite as freezing as he knew it would be later. That kind of cold didn't usually set in until the middle of the night, and he was glad of the fact that there was usually a warmish body in his bunk to seek heat from by the time the temperature dropped.

He sighed, pulling the neck of his sweater up a little more securely around his chin to try and keep the warmth in, although he knew that it wouldn't do much good. Even the warm clothes they'd been given were thin and threadbare, and he knew that they were probably the bare minimum that they'd had to be given. Still, it was better than nothing, and so he'd take it.

He could feel the stubble on his jaw and his chin as he pulled up the neck of his sweater, and he knew that he was probably due a shave, but he couldn't find it in himself to want to bother. What was the point in trying to keep himself tidy and presentable, when he'd been wearing the same shirt for almost a week by now?

Even with the hygiene facilities in the camp, there was really only so much they could do when it came to keeping themselves clean. The water was icy cold at the best of times, and brown and muddy at the worst of times. The soap consisted of whatever they could scrape out of the trough that they used as a sink, and their razors were blunt enough that they were almost always guaranteed to cut themselves while shaving.

Of course it bothered him, how could it not? But he knew just how much Gale despised it.

The other man had always prided himself on his appearance; on looking neat, and tidy, and well put together. It broke his heart to watch Gale scratching at dirt stuck underneath his nails, or scraping his fingers through his hair in an attempt to keep it looking tidy.

He'd given Gale his last scrap of soap the other day, just so the other man would stop fussing and trying to wipe dirt off his hands that he wasn't sure was even there. It wasn't much, but Gale had smiled gratefully at him, and so he'd at least felt like he'd done something useful.

That was all he wanted, just to keep being useful to Gale, so that the other man would want to keep him around. He knew their friendship ran deeper than that, but it made him feel just a little bit better to give Gale a reason to want to keep him. He'd do whatever it took to continue being useful to Gale, even if that meant simply staying alive and not leaving Gale alone in here.

As if his thoughts were being read, he felt the thin mattress dip just behind him as Gale climbed into the bunk, and he glanced back over his shoulder at him, “Lights out already?” He asked. He hadn't taken much notice of the sounds of footsteps filling the room, too busy counting his scratches on the wall again.

Gale made a soft, affirmative noise, “Yeah, in a minute. They've started herding everyone inside.”

He just hummed quietly in response, before turning over so that he was facing Gale instead as the other man settled down.

Sleeping pressed up against Gale obviously didn't bother him, but he was relieved that it didn't seem to bother Gale either, because really, it was just about keeping warm during the night. He'd seen the way some of the other guys slept; Glen and Hambone usually slept with their backs to each other, the blanket shoved down between them, and as far apart as they could physically get. That didn't seem to be the most efficient way of sleeping in order to share body heat, but he wasn't about to start telling the other guys how they should sleep with their bunkmate.

He and Gale managed to make it work for the most part. It certainly wasn't warm, but it didn't feel quite so icy cold sometimes, and so that was enough for him. Besides, if he had his own selfish reasons for wanting to curl up close to Gale at night, then that was his own business, and Gale never needed to know about it.

Sometimes, on the really cold nights, Gale would press up close against him during the night, unconsciously seeking out warmth from him, and so he didn't feel bad about doing the same. On those nights, it was easier to pretend that they weren't trapped in this awful place. He could pretend that he was at home, in his own bed, and that Gale was with him; sharing a bed with him simply because he wanted to, not because he had to. It was a nice image to hold onto; one to get him through the worst parts of being here.

Once Gale had gotten as comfortable as he was probably going to get, he reached back over his shoulder to let down the thin sheet that they'd been using as a makeshift curtain. It wasn't much, but it kept at least some of the cold out, and it gave them some semblance of privacy. Not that there was anything that they needed privacy for, but he still appreciated it.

“You doin’ alright?” Gale asked once he'd settled back down, sliding a hand underneath the pillow, “You've been pretty quiet today.”

He just shrugged, “What's there to say?”

He knew that it was unusual for him to be as quiet as he'd been today, but like he'd just said, what was there to actually say? He was already in a bad mood because of the idea of being stuck here for Christmas, and so he didn't need to further that by sitting around talking about it.

Day in and day out, nothing had really changed since they'd gotten here, and so he didn't see the point in commenting on how cold it was, or how meagre their food rations had been, or how uneasy the guards seemed to be getting. They were conversations that they'd all had a thousand times by now, and he was actually sick of talking about it by now. He knew that Gale didn't want to hear any of his harebrained schemes for getting out of here, or any of his more morbid thoughts on their whole situation, and so he'd figured that he'd just keep his mouth shut and get on with it.

Gale nodded, and while it seemed as if he wanted to continue talking about it, he thankfully didn't push any further. He was glad, because he didn't particularly want to talk about any of it.

“Feels like it's gonna get colder tonight.” He said after a moment, biting his lip gently as he looked across at Gale.

For all of his insisting that he didn't see the point in talking about it, he hated simply laying here in silence. He obviously didn't mind it when they were actually settling down to sleep, but when he was laying here with Gale looking at him; he couldn't stand the silence. Besides, he could hear the rest of the guys still quietly talking to their bunkmates as they settled down, and so he didn't worry that they were keeping anybody awake.

“It does, yeah. Wouldn't be surprised if it freezes over.” Gale agreed quietly.

He was about to speak again, although he was cut off when there was a harsh bang at the door, followed by the sound of a guard yelling in broken English that it was time for lights out.

It didn't frighten him. The guards yelled, and they pushed them around, and they could be vicious when they wanted to be, but he wasn't intimidated by it. He knew that, if it came down to it, he could go toe-to-toe with any of them and would probably come out on top. Really, the only thing keeping him in line was the fact that they had guns and dogs. That obviously left him at a disadvantage.

He hated to see the way that Gale would flinch whenever a guard yelled, though, and the way he would always try to hide it. He didn't really understand the reason for it, because Gale was one of the toughest, strongest people he'd ever known, and so he'd been surprised to find that a bit of yelling made him so uneasy.

He did know that he'd had a rough childhood, though, and so he couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with that; if it dragged up memories of having to just stand there and take it while his father yelled at him.

It was just another thing that he wanted to protect Gale from, although he knew just how ridiculous a sentiment that was. Gale was a Major, just like he was. He was experienced, qualified, competent, and he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need him trying to protect him from the world. Besides, he was pretty sure that it wouldn't end well for either of them if the guards were to pick up on it. They might see Gale as a weak link, as someone to target when they wanted to make a point. That was the last thing he wanted to happen.

So, all he could do was try to protect Gale as well as he could, without making it too obvious.

He sighed as he watched Gale chewing anxiously at his lower lip as the guards outside slammed the shutters on the windows shut, “They're not coming in here, Buck.” He whispered. He couldn't promise that, but the guards had no reason to come in here when they had already herded everybody inside, and so he just hoped that he was right.

Gale just shot him a look, before dropping his gaze again, “I know that.” He muttered.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

He didn't mean to draw attention to it, but he just.. he hated seeing Gale like this. He hated seeing him anxious and uneasy, and so he only wanted to do whatever he could to make him feel a little bit better. He just wanted to help. Still, he could see that Gale was embarrassed that he'd noticed, and so he wouldn't say anything more about it.

He just wished that Gale wouldn't feel like that, though, because as far as he was concerned; there was nothing to be embarrassed about. The guards could be nasty when they felt like it, and so it was only natural that Gale would feel uneasy around them. Still, if Gale would rather he just turned a blind eye towards the whole thing, then he'd just have to do his best.

“Sweet dreams, fellas.” DeMarco said from his own bunk, over the other side of the room, “If you're all good, maybe Santa will come.” He teased, before switching off the light.

He huffed softly, before turning his attention back to Gale as the room was plunged into darkness, letting himself simply watch the other man as he finally settled down.

The guards had closed the window shutters, but there was just enough of a crack that the light from one of the watchtowers outside just about shone through into the room, and so he could still slightly make out Gale's features.

It was just enough for him to see that the other man looked tired, dark shadows underneath his eyes that he was just about to make out, even in the light of day. He knew they were there, though, even if he couldn't see them all too well.

He couldn't say he was surprised. He'd been here a little over two months, and he hadn't seen Gale let his guard down at all in that time. He knew how exhausting that had to be, and that was without the added pressure of being the person that everybody looked to.

He knew that Gale felt responsible for the rest of the guys; much like himself. He knew that he felt as if he had to be Major Cleven all of the time, and that he felt a responsibility to make sure that everybody was safe, and well, and looked after. It was a pretty big burden to shoulder, and he knew that Gale tended to put himself last a lot of the time. That was where he came in, to make sure that Gale was safe, and well, and looked after.

He knew that, lately, it had been taking its toll on him, though. As he looked at Gale, he couldn't help but wonder if he was coming down with something. They'd obviously all lost weight over the last two months, but Gale had always been slim, and so the way he had dropped the weight seemed almost unhealthy. He just hoped that wasn't the case, because they had enough to deal with without Gale being sick too. Still, he knew he couldn't do anything about it if that was the case; all he could do was try and deal with it.

“Are you doin’ alright?” He asked softly, lowering his voice to a whisper so that he wouldn't disturb the rest of the guys who were trying to sleep, “You don't look so hot.”

Gale just shrugged, a tiny, barely there lift of his shoulders, “Just tired, I guess. Been a long day.”

“Yeah.” He agreed.

He really didn't know what more there was to say about it. Gale was right, it had been a long day, and so had yesterday, and so had the day before that. Every day felt more mind-numbingly draining than the last, and he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take; how much more of it any of them could take. Even on a good day, it was hard enough to slap on a smile and try to be strong for the rest of the guys, but on a bad day; he barely wanted to get out of his bunk. On those days, he wanted to keep Gale here with him; he wanted to simply pull the sheets up over their heads and pretend that everything was different.

They lapsed back into silence then, and he was almost sure that Gale had finally settled down to sleep, until the other man sighed again, shifting slightly where he was laying, “John?”

“Mm?”

“D'you-” Gale started, before sighing again, “Does it bother you that it's Christmas tomorrow, and we're stuck here?”

He swallowed thickly, trying his best not to focus too hard on how Gale's words made him feel. Of course he hated it, but what was he supposed to do about it? So, he simply nodded, shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah, of course it does.” He admitted softly, “Never thought it was gonna be like this. I thought we were gonna spend Christmas at Thorpe Abbotts.”

“Yeah, so did I.” Gale admitted softly.

“Guess I just got cocky.” He whispered, huffing out a soft breath of laughter, “Last two B-17s in the air, and all that.”

He remembered saying that to Gale over their breakfast one morning, and when Gale had told him not to count on it, he had simply smiled, because to think otherwise seemed like such a ridiculous prospect. He had genuinely thought that he and Gale would be the last two left, and he hated with every fiber of his being that he'd been wrong about that.

Gale just smiled back at him, something soft and devastating in the tiny gesture. It made him feel like his heart was breaking, and he didn't even know why.

He really did feel for Gale, though, because as much as he hated the fact that they were going to be stuck here for Christmas, it also meant that they were going to be stuck here for Gale's birthday, two days later.

Had they still been in England, he would have made a fuss; he would have tried to get him something nice, maybe even tried to get him a birthday cake. As it stood, all he'd been able to scrounge up for him so far had been a bar of chocolate, and he was planning on giving him that for Christmas tomorrow. It wasn't much, but it was something. He had tried.

“It'll be different next Christmas.” He said softly, although he wasn't sure if he even believed that. What if they were still here? What if things just continued to get worse and worse? What if either he or Gale didn’t make it to next Christmas? He refused to let himself consider that possibility, because it was the worst thing he could imagine.

Gale nodded, although he didn't look all that convinced, “You think so?” He asked quietly.

“I know so.” He said, forcing a small smile, “You'll be back home to Marge by then, I guarantee it.”

Talking about Marge was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do right now, but Gale just looked so.. miserable. He looked tired, and cold, and sad, and all he wanted to do was make him smile. Marge was the one thing that was always guaranteed to make Gale smile, and while the reality of that broke his heart a little bit, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.

“Yeah, maybe.” Gale said softly.

He sighed, only just resisting the urge to reach across and touch Gale. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to do; gently brush his fingers against his cheek, cup his jaw, comb his hair back from his forehead. All he knew was that he wanted to do something to comfort Gale, and he'd always known how to do that best with his touch.

“Try and get some sleep, can't have you sleeping in on Christmas Day.” He whispered, rather than letting himself touch Gale at all. He did let himself shuffle slightly closer, though, because there was no point in Gale even being here if they weren't going to attempt to share body heat.

“Yeah, you too.” Gale said softly, “‘Night, Bucky.”

“‘Night.” He said with a small smile.

He closed his eyes as he pressed his face in against the pillow, willing himself to drop off to sleep. He was tired, but he could still feel his mind prickling with worry over Gale and how he was doing. It was silly, because he knew that, right at this moment, there was nothing to worry about. Gale was next to him, he was in one piece. Maybe he wasn't doing as well as he would have liked, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. They could talk again tomorrow.

The room was quiet, the rest of the guys slowly starting to fall asleep. He could already hear somebody snoring over in the opposite corner, although he couldn't tell if it was DeMarco or Brady. It was coming from that side of the room, anyway. He could hear the wind whistling icy cold just outside the window, and it made him want to burrow himself in against Gale's side in an attempt to keep them both warm.

Even at the best of times, it wasn't exactly easy to sleep in this place. The mattress and pillow were lumpy and uncomfortable, and like he'd said before, the thin sheet wasn't anywhere near enough to keep them warm at night. Even though doubling up to keep warm was really the only option, the bunks weren't exactly made for two full grown men, and so he was glad that he was sharing with somebody that he really didn't mind being pressed up against.

Still, in saying that, there were some nights that Gale was fidgety and restless, and that didn't help with the whole sleeping situation either.

It seemed that tonight was one of those nights. In the quiet and stillness of the room, he could hear the way Gale was fussing next to him. As much as he understood that he just couldn't let himself settle sometimes, he had to admit that it was frustrating, and he immediately felt selfish for even thinking that.

He opened his eyes again, sighing as he watched Gale scrubbing at his hands with his sleeve again, obviously trying to wipe away dirt that probably wasn't even there. He hated when he did this. It was a nervous habit that the other man had picked up whenever he was feeling stressed or anxious, and it made his heart twist painfully in his chest every time he noticed Gale doing it.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how he hadn't scrubbed his hands raw by now, because of his inability to leave them alone.

“Would you stop?” He murmured, taking Gale's hands to keep him from fidgeting, although he frowned when he noticed just how cold Gale's hands were, “Jesus, Buck. You're freezing.”

“I'm fine.” Gale mumbled, attempting to pull his hands back.

He didn't let go, though, holding both of Gale's hands between his own, “What happened to your gloves?” He asked. He was sure Gale had had a pair, although in thinking about it now, he hadn't seen them in a while.

Gale swallowed thickly, seemingly doing his best to avoid his gaze, “Traded ‘em.”

“You- Buck..” He sighed. He couldn't say he was surprised, though. Gale had always been too selfless for his own good, he'd probably traded them away for something that would help one of the other guys out; an extra ration, medicine. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he found out that Buck had just given them away to someone that he thought had needed them more.

Gale still wasn't looking at him, though, and so he just sighed, shaking his head, “Come here.” He murmured, taking Gale's hands to slide them underneath his own sweater, pressing them to the skin of his waist. It wasn't much, but it was better than letting Gale freeze to death.

“John-” Gale started, attempting to pull his hands back from him.

“Relax, I'm just trying to warm you up a little.” He insisted. The whole reason they'd decided to share bunks in the first place was to benefit from the shared body heat. There was no point in Gale being here at all if he wasn't going to try and get some warmth from him.

He curled in slightly closer to Gale, dropping his own arm over the other man's waist to pull him in close. He and Gale had become accustomed to sharing a bunk by now, but it had never been like this. They had always settled for sharing body heat by simply being next to each other; they had never wrapped each other in any sort of embrace, they had never pressed right up against each other like this. If he was being honest, it felt a little too much like cuddling.

He had no issues with wrapping himself around Gale to keep him warm, but Gale obviously did take issue with it, if the way he tried to hold him at arm's length was anything to go by, “I'm fine, John.” He insisted.

He rolled his eyes, “You're shivering.” He pointed out, before reaching across to take his hands again, “And your hands are fucking freezing, so don't try and tell me that you're fine.”

He hated to think of Gale just laying there for the rest of the night, unable to sleep because of how cold he was. He certainly wasn't warm, but he wasn't quite as icy cold as Gale was, and so pulling Gale in tight against him was the least he could do in order to try and warm himself up. He just wasn't sure why Gale seemed to be dead set on insisting that he was fine.

Gale just sighed, turning his head away so that he wouldn't have to look at him, “You don't get it.” He murmured, sighing again, “Just.. stay over there.��

“What's goin’ on?” He asked softly.

He wasn't sure what was going on with Gale, but he really couldn't deny the prickling of hurt that ran through him at the way that Gale was trying so desperately not to be close to him.

It had never been like that between them. Right from the beginning, he and Gale had always been very physical with each other; an arm thrown around Gale's shoulder, sitting close enough that their thighs pressed together, letting himself touch Gale's jaw, his thigh, his waist. He remembered even kissing Gale on the cheek one time; when they'd been in the pub near Thorpe Abbotts and he'd been three sheets to the wind. He'd always been a very tactile person when it came to Gale, and Gale had never seemed to have a problem with it before now.

Maybe it was because of the circumstances, and where they were. Maybe Gale just didn't feel comfortable with him touching him when they were technically in a bed together. It had never crossed his mind that that might be the case, just because Gale had never seemed this uneasy with him before. It made him feel a little bit deflated.

Gale shook his head, although it was impossible to miss the way his cheeks had flushed, “Nothing. I told you, I'm fine.” He insisted.

He sighed, letting himself simply watch Gale. He had no idea what was going on, but he did know that he hated it. He knew that he wouldn't get anywhere if he were to push the issue, though. Trying to force Gale to explain what was going on would probably only have the opposite effect, and the last thing he wanted was for Gale to feel as though he had no choice but to go back to his own bunk.

“Fine.” He said softly. He didn't like it, but he wasn't sure what there was to do other than just leave it. Maybe he could try and get Gale to talk about it tomorrow; it might be easier when they weren't pressed up against each other in his bunk like this, “Just.. come here, at least. I won't touch you.” He promised.

Gale just looked at him for a moment, before dropping his gaze again as he shuffled slightly closer to him. He still wasn't touching him, but at least he wasn't trying to hold him at arm's length anymore. He was relieved, because Gale wanting so desperately to pull away from him like that had stung; as little as he liked to admit that. This still wasn't much, but hopefully Gale wouldn't be quite as cold.

“Get some sleep, Buck.” He whispered.

Gale just nodded, “Yeah, you too.”

He gave Gale a tight smile, before turning over onto his other side to face the wall. He couldn't ignore the fact that it was still bitterly cold, though, and so he simply sighed as he pressed back against Gale in an attempt to seek some warmth from him. He had promised him that he wouldn't touch him, but he'd meant that he'd keep his hands to himself, rather than trying to wrap him in his embrace. This was hardly the same thing.

He had obviously caught Gale off guard by doing so, as their bodies came into contact before Gale had a chance to move back from him. He hadn't thought much of it, because the whole reason they were sharing a bunk in the first place was to keep warm, but as he pressed back against Gale, he froze when he felt something press against his lower back, quickly realizing that Gale was hard and straining against the front of his pants.

“Wait, John, don't-” Gale hissed, putting his hands on the back of his shoulders to push him away.

He almost didn't know what he was supposed to say. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't a big deal. Gale was a man, he obviously had needs. It was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Buck, it's.. it's okay.” He whispered.

“It's not. It's.. I shouldn't-” Gale cut himself off with a sigh, a short, frustrated noise.

He swallowed thickly as he contemplated how he was supposed to handle this, wetting his lips with his tongue before turning back over to face Gale. It was still dark in the room, but it was impossible to miss how mortified Gale looked; his cheeks flushed, and doing everything he could to avoid his gaze, “Is that why you didn't want me touching you? So I wouldn't feel that?” He asked.

“I'm not some kind of pervert, John.” Gale hissed, finally glancing back up at him, “I don't lay here every night, waiting for you to fall asleep, just so I can..” He trailed off, dropping his gaze again.

He swallowed again, trying with everything he had to not let himself think of Gale quietly jerking himself off next to him while he slept. He didn't think he'd ever get that image out of his head if he let himself think about it, and the last thing they needed here was him popping a hard-on too and making everything worse.

He suddenly understood what Gale's problem had been, though. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the idea of him touching him, it was that he hadn't wanted him to come too close and realize what was going on. It was that he hadn't wanted to make him uncomfortable.

That was a notion that he couldn't quite wrap his head around, though, because the idea that Gale could ever make him feel uncomfortable was just ridiculous. Especially not with something like this.

Still, he had to remind himself that he had always kept his feelings for Gale strictly to himself. Gale probably thought that he would take issue with it, and that he'd be horrified upon realizing that he was hard while they were sharing a bunk.

That really couldn't have been further from the truth, though.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about.” He said softly, shrugging his shoulders, “It just.. it happens sometimes. We've all been there.”

It wasn't as if it was completely heard of. Even he struggled with it sometimes, and he hadn't been completely celibate since leaving the States; not like he knew Gale had been. There'd been plenty of women around when they'd been stationed at Thorpe Abbotts, and so he'd managed to get it out of his system from time to time. He knew that Gale had been nothing but faithful to Marge since they'd left home, though, and so it was no wonder really that he was feeling a little worked up.

Gale just scoffed, shaking his head, “Right.”

“It's not.” He insisted, ducking his head to try and catch Gale's eye, “I don't mind.”

“How could you not mind?” Gale asked, finally looking at him, “It's.. it's wrong, and I-”

“Gale.” He whispered, cutting him off. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to hear Gale insist that it was bad, or that it was dirty, or that there was something wrong with him for it; not when that couldn't be further from how he felt about the whole situation. So, heart hammering in his chest, he pressed his leg forward to let his knee gently slide against Gale's crotch, “I said I don't mind.”

He certainly hadn't planned this, but Gale seemed to be on the verge of freaking out and just going back to his own bunk, so that he wouldn't have to deal with this. Like he'd just said, though, he didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

He really had no idea how this was going to go. Gale hadn't pushed him away yet, but that didn't mean that he wasn't about to. For maybe the first time in his life, he found himself completely unable to decipher the expression on Gale's face, and it was slightly terrifying, because he had no idea if he had just ruined this whole thing.

“John..” Gale eventually whispered, his gaze dropping to where his knee was still pressed against him, before looking back up at him.

“Tell me to stop, and I'll stop.” He breathed, letting his leg press forward a little more until he could slide his thigh against Gale's hard cock. It wasn't much, but he knew that even the slight friction would feel good.

Still, he wasn't about to do anything that Gale really didn't want him to do. The last thing he wanted was to end up feeling like he had taken advantage of Gale, or worse; for Gale to feel like he'd taken advantage of him. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself afterwards, and while Gale hadn't pushed him away just yet, he still looked vaguely terrified, and so he tilted his head slightly to catch Gale's eye, raising his eyebrows at him, “Buck?”

“Don't stop.” Gale eventually whispered, reaching out to lightly touch his waist with shaky fingers.

That was enough for him, and so he let his thigh press a little more firmly against Gale's cock, his own breath catching in his throat as he did. This was literally the last thing that he'd imagined would happen tonight, and he still wasn't totally convinced that he wasn't dreaming.

How long had he wanted Gale like this? How long had he wanted some sort of excuse to touch Gale like this? For all that he'd imagined it, and had dreamt up hundreds of different scenarios in his head, he'd never imagined that it would happen here of all places. Still, he certainly wasn't naive enough to let himself believe that this was happening because Gale actually wanted him. It was convenient, was all. He was just helping Gale out, rather than leaving him to deal with it himself.

Gale exhaled a shaky breath as he tentatively rocked against his thigh, his fingers inching just underneath his sweater to press against the bare skin of his waist again, “I.. John, I-”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, winding his own arm around Gale's waist to pull him slightly closer, “Helping you out, is all.”

It was easy to let the words spill out, to reassure Gale that he was just giving him a helping hand. It wasn't hard to see that Gale hadn't quite let himself relax into this yet, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten him off.

He didn't have the words to describe how long and how badly he'd wanted this, but he knew that giving that away wasn't a good idea. This wasn't about him or what he wanted; it was just about giving Gale some sort of relief so that he'd be able to sleep. That's all this was.

Gale nodded, seemingly satisfied with his words, although a soft gasp caught in his throat as they moved at the same time; as he pressed his thigh up between Gale's legs again just as Gale rocked down against him.

God, that was.. he couldn't even describe how he felt right now. Gale's cheeks were still flushed, although he couldn't tell if it was still purely from embarrassment, or if it was simply from arousal now. Either way, he looked so goddamn beautiful, and he knew there was no point in even trying to pretend that he wasn't hard by now too. He didn't see the point in trying to hide it, either.

“That feel good?” He asked, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. They couldn't risk waking any of the other guys, and so he knew that they had to keep quiet. That only added to the thrill, though, to know that they were doing this in a room full of other people, who were oblivious as to what was happening in their bunk.

Gale nodded, sighing softly again, “Yeah, feels..” He trailed off, rocking his hips down against his thigh again.

“Tell me.” He whispered.

“Feels so good.” Gale sighed, pressing his fingers in a little harder where he was still holding onto his waist, “Please, John.. I need-”

“I know what you need, I got you.” He whispered.

He refused to let himself think too hard about it as he pulled Gale closer, sliding his thigh between both of Gale's to slot their hips together properly. Like this, they could grind against each other, and while that might have been pushing it a little far; he found it hard to think about that when it felt this good. He could insist all he wanted that this was simply about helping Gale out, but he didn't feel bad about letting himself have this.

“This alright?” He asked softly, his arm still around Gale's waist as he rolled their hips together.

Gale just nodded, a soft whimper slipping from his throat, “Yeah.. don't stop.”

He almost didn't know where he was supposed to look as he and Gale rocked against each other, their bodies moving together in a slow grind that had that heat and arousal pulling tight in his stomach. Gale was right there, his face barely inches from his own, although it felt almost too intimate to let himself look into Gale's eyes.

He was under no impressions; he knew that this wasn't him and Gale simply sleeping with each other because they'd given into their feelings for each other. It was just.. taking what they both needed from somebody who was willing to give it. Still, even though he knew that, the way he felt about Gale was.. well, he knew just how deeply he felt for Gale, how deeply he'd always felt for him. It would have been so easy to close his eyes and pretend that it was different; that Gale was doing this simply because he wanted him.

Still, he knew that this probably wouldn't ever happen again, and so he didn't want to end up missing a single second of it. To close his eyes meant that it could have been anybody pressed up against him like this, and he didn't want that. He wanted to commit every last detail to memory, rather than simply giving himself over to how good it felt.

He wanted to remember the hot and heavy look in Gale's eyes as they moved together, he wanted to remember every tiny sound that he made. He wanted to be able to remember this for the rest of his life; however long or short that might be.

He slid a hand down the length of Gale's thigh so that he could pull his leg up over his hip, pressing his own thigh a little more firmly between Gale's legs. It felt so goddamn good to be pressed up against each other like this, and he couldn't help the quiet moan that spilled from his throat as they moved against each other.

“Shh.. gotta stay quiet.” Gale whispered, wrapping his leg a little more securely around his hip.

He huffed softly, closing his eyes as he leaned in to press his forehead against Gale's, “Easy for you to say.” He murmured.

“You think?”

He bit back a soft huff of laughter, letting his forehead roll against Gale's as he shifted slightly in an attempt to press in even closer.

With how their hips were pressed tight together, he could feel Gale's hard cock pressed against his own as they moved together, and it took every ounce of his restraint to keep his hands where they were; one on Gale's thigh to keep his leg up around his hip, the other one trapped between the thin mattress and Gale's shoulder.

He couldn't even describe how badly he wanted to touch Gale properly. If they'd been anywhere other than here, he would have slowly stripped Gale out of his clothes to leave them both naked. He would have used his hands, and his mouth, and his own cock to make Gale feel good; in a way that he was sure nobody had made him feel before. He knew that he couldn't, though. He knew that to even touch Gale's cock right now would probably make it feel a little too real for the other man, and he was still afraid of doing anything that might frighten him off. So, this was more than enough.

“God, Buck, that's..” He trailed off, a soft moan catching in his throat again as he let his gaze trail back up to Gale's face.

Gale was already looking at him, his blue eyes dark with arousal and something that looked suspiciously like want. He'd never imagined that he'd get to experience Gale looking at him like that; like they were the only two people in the world, like he was the only thing that mattered to him. He was almost sure that he was interpreting it wrong, though, because the idea of Gale actually wanting him like that was, well.. he knew that that wasn't the case.

He couldn't help but wish that they weren't in almost complete darkness, though, because he wanted to really look at Gale. He needed to be able to remember every single detail of this, down to the way that Gale's gaze flicked down to his lips for a brief moment, before looking back up at him. In saying that, though, if he let himself focus on that detail for too long, then he knew he'd only end up doing something that they couldn't come back from. It was best he didn't dwell on it.

“Please, Bucky.. I need..” Gale whispered, sliding his hands along his waist underneath his sweater, as though he was trying to pull him closer, even though they were already pressed right up against each other.

“I know, baby. I know. I got you.”

He used his weight to roll them over, his hand still cupped around the back of Gale's knee to keep his leg up around his hip as he pressed Gale back against the mattress, before settling on top of him. He braced his other forearm on the pillow next to Gale's head, a soft gasp spilling from his throat as he started to move again.

Jesus Christ, that was.. he didn't think it could feel any better than it already had, but like this, it felt like he and Gale were pressed even impossibly closer together, and he really didn't know how he was supposed to handle that.

He was between Gale's legs now; one of Gale's legs still hitched up around his hips, the other pressed up against the side of his body. It felt even more intense than it had before, though; and pressed up against each other like this, he could feel Gale's hard cock pressed right up against his own as he rolled their hips together. It felt so goddamn good to be able to feel just how turned on Gale was, and while he knew that it wasn't because of him; he was still the one who got to do something about it.

Like this, it was easy to pretend that everything was different. It was easy to pretend that he was actually fucking Gale, despite the fact that they were both still fully clothed.

Gale scraped his fingers down the length of his back as they moved together, his fingers pressing in hard enough to his bare skin that he almost hoped it would leave scratches. He wanted some sort of physical evidence to prove that this had happened, and that it wasn't something that his mind had simply dreamt up while he was asleep.

Still, he knew that there was only so much that he could dream up himself. For as much and as often as he'd imagined this happening, it didn't even begin to compare to the real thing. Like this, Gale was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; the soft sounds that he was making, the way that he was trembling underneath him as they moved against each other. His own fantasies didn't even come close to the real thing.

“You feel so goddamn good.” He sighed, leaning down close so that he could whisper the words in Gale's ear.

He felt completely enveloped in Gale, and it really was everything that he had ever wanted. His mind was completely blank, filled with nothing but the thoughts of Gale, Gale, Gale. The feeling of Gale's legs around his hips, his fingers on his bare skin, the way that he gasped softly as they rolled their hips together. He didn't think anything had ever felt as good.

With how close they were pressed together, he could smell the rich, heady scent of Gale's sweat, and he couldn't help but press his face in against the hollow of Gale's neck, inhaling deeply. It made him never want to move from here, honestly. It made him want to burrow into the crook of Gale's neck and stay there for the rest of his life.

The only word that he could use to describe how this felt was intense. Gale was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and the way he looked, the way he sounded, even the way he smelled; it made his head swim with lust, and desire, and hunger for the other man.

Gale moaned softly, the quiet sound slipping out despite his obvious best efforts to keep quiet. It was such a turn on to know that he was making Gale feel this good; that it was his touch, and his body pressed against Gale's that had the other man moaning and trembling like this.

“Gotta keep quiet, doll.” He teased, the pet name slipping out as he gently scraped his teeth along the taut tendon of Gale's neck. He knew he couldn't leave marks, and so it took every bit of his restraint not to suck at the warm, salty skin of Gale's neck, to taste him the way he wanted to.

As much as he knew they had to stay quiet, it felt almost intoxicating to know that Gale didn't seem to be capable of it by now. He wasn't worrying too hard about it, though. He just hoped that, if they had woken anybody else, that they assumed it was just one of them jerking off while the other slept. The makeshift curtain was down, and so it wasn't as if anybody could see them. Nobody had to know that they were doing this together.

Gale moaned softly again at the pet name, his back arching up off the bunk to press even closer to him, “Please, John.. that's.. you feel so good.”

“You like that? You like when I call you doll?” He asked, leaning up to whisper the words in Gale's ear again, “What about baby? You'd let me call you my baby?” He barely realized what he was saying, too caught up in the sensation of it all, and how good it all felt.

Waking up this morning, he never could have imagined that he would end up here; moaning softly against Gale's neck as he humped against the other man like a dog in heat. If he'd been in any frame of mind to share his inner monologue right now, Gale would have laughed at that, because it wasn't the first time that he'd been compared to a dog, to Gale's dog.

He always came when Gale called, and did whatever it was that Gale asked of him. Come, heel, sit, stay, bite. Anything Gale asked, he’d do without question, and he knew that he and Gale weren't the only two people who knew that. It was no secret that he was hopelessly devoted to Gale, although he was almost sure that he'd done a good job of keeping quiet about just how devoted he was to him, how deeply he felt for him.

At this point, Gale seemed to be past the point of doing anything other than panting as he rolled his hips up again, their bodies moving together in that rhythm that had flames of pleasure licking up his spine every time that he rocked his own hips down against Gale's body.

“Say it again.” Gale sighed, shivering against him as he pressed his head back into the pillow, still clutching at his back to hold him close.

“Say what?”

“That.. just, fuck.” Gale gasped.

“What, doll?” He asked, letting the tip of his nose trail feather light up the length of Gale's neck.

The only response from Gale was a quiet whine, his hips rolling up to meet his again, and so he grinned as he grazed Gale's neck with his teeth, slowing the rhythm of his hips until they were grinding each other almost painfully slowly.

“Knew you liked it.” He teased, his breath warm against the side of Gale's neck as he pressed slow, open mouthed kisses to his skin, “You are a doll, though, you're my doll. My babydoll.”

Gale moaned softly again at his words, sliding his calf against his ass to keep them pressed close together, to keep them entwined as he rolled his own hips up again, “Just like that.. God, good boy.” He sighed.

Without taking a moment to think about what he was doing, he leaned back up to press his lips to Gale's in a hard kiss, cupping his jaw in his hand.

He knew that actually kissing Gale was crossing a line, that it was turning this into something that it wasn't; something it was never going to be. He couldn't help it, though. It was hard enough to keep a level head with how good this felt, but hearing Gale call him a good boy, hearing how much Gale liked it when he called him babydoll; it made him feel as though his brain was backfiring.

Thankfully, Gale didn't seem to be phased by the kiss. He simply moaned into his mouth as he leaned up into it, letting a hand slide up to cup around the nape of his neck.

That was.. God, if he thought that it was good before, then he didn't have the words now to describe just how good it felt now, with Gale's lips pressed against his own. He'd been dreaming of this for as long as he could remember, and so despite the fact that Gale hadn't even touched his cock, it still felt like the best sex he'd ever had.

Still, he knew that whatever hope he'd had before of telling himself that this didn't mean anything, or that he was just giving Gale a helping hand, there was no point in even trying to pretend now that this wasn't everything he'd ever wanted. He was having sex with Gale, and while he knew deep down that it didn't mean anything to Gale, it was easy to pretend otherwise. It was easy to let himself be selfish, and take what he wanted; purely because he loved Gale, and he wanted this with him.

He couldn't help the soft noise that spilled from his throat as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against Gale's in a way that had the heat pulling tight in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't have let it get this far, he knew that they should rein it back a little, but he couldn't find it in himself to want to stop. If this was his one opportunity to have this, then he was going to push it as far as he could.

He let the pace slow down again, grinding his hips against Gale's as he delved his tongue into Gale's mouth. He couldn't ignore how intimate this felt; to be wrapped in each other like this as they moved together, with Gale gently stroking his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Honestly, he could have stayed here forever, letting himself become familiar with the taste and texture of Gale's mouth as their lips and tongues slowly slid together.

He knew that he didn't have long left in him. It just felt too damn good, and he knew that it was only heightened because of who he was with. He was sure that, after this long, sex with anybody would have felt pretty damn good, but knowing that it was Gale underneath him just made it feel so much better. He could tell that Gale was getting close too; it was obvious in the way that he was trembling and whimpering underneath him, still clutching at his body to pull him closer.

He would have liked to drag this out for as long as possible, but he knew that that wasn't an option. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't come in his skivvies almost as soon as he and Gale had first pressed against each other.

So, after one last slow, intense kiss, he let his teeth catch Gale's lower lip for a moment, before pulling away from him so that he could lean down and whisper into his ear again, “I'm so close, doll.” He breathed, rolling his hips again, “Can you feel how hard I am for you? God, the things I'd do to you if I had you in a proper bed right now.”

He knew he was veering into dangerous territory here, but he really couldn't have cared less right now. Gale could pretend all he liked that this didn't mean anything, and that it was simply about getting off, but how was he supposed to act as if that was still the case for him? He wasn't sure how he was supposed to pretend that this didn't mean everything to him.

Thankfully, Gale was either too far gone to realize what he'd said, or he was just choosing to ignore it, but he simply moaned softly as he dropped his head back against the pillow, “Me too, I'm‐ God, I'm gonna come.”

“Come on, you can let go.” He whispered, leaning back down to press another open mouthed kiss to the hollow of Gale's neck, “I want you to come for me, baby.”

That was evidently all it took to push Gale over the edge, and he gasped again as he arched his back up off the bed, his fingers digging into his skin where he was still holding onto his back. He looked.. God, he looked so beautiful. His eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed as he gave himself over to the pleasure of his orgasm.

He was right behind him; the sight of Gale as he finished just enough to push him over the edge. He moaned softly against the warm, sweat-slick skin of Gale's neck, clutching at the other man as he finally spilled into his own skivvies. That was.. Jesus Christ, he couldn't remember the last time that anything had felt that good.

They were both silent for a moment after they'd finished, still trembling against each other as they slowly came down from their high.

He could feel Gale's fingers still in his hair, gently scratching at the nape of his neck, and it made him want to just melt into the other man's touch. It made him want to fall asleep like this; still on top of Gale, with Gale's legs still wrapped loosely around his hips, breathing in the deep, heady scent that couldn't be anything other than Gale.

He knew that they couldn't, though. It wasn't unusual for the guards to drag them out of their bunks in the middle of the night in order to do a headcount and search the bunkrooms, and he didn't even want to think about what the consequences might be if they were caught like this. He knew they had to just consider themselves lucky that they hadn't already been caught out tonight.

He eventually made himself pull away from Gale, laying just next to him again. Their legs were still entwined further down the bed, though, and he was almost sure that Gale would be able to feel his breath against his cheek, with how close they were laying.

His mind was still feeling a little fuzzy from the intensity of his orgasm, and he could see that Gale was obviously feeling the same way, and so he let himself simply look for a moment; let himself really look at Gale, in a way that he'd never let himself do before.

Gale looked like a fucking dream, honestly. His hair was in disarray, and that flush was still high on his cheeks. His chest was still heaving slightly as he attempted to catch his breath, and he still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that it was because of him; that it was his touch and his body that had Gale looking so thoroughly worn-out.

“Should probably clean up a little.” He eventually whispered, just because he didn't know what else he was supposed to say. Gale wasn't freaking out yet, but that didn't mean that it wasn't about to happen. He knew how Gale's mind worked, and that didn't bode too well for him right now.

Gale turned his head to look at him, blinking lazily at him, “Yeah.” He said softly, before seeming to realize what he'd said, “Uh.. how-”

“Here.” He murmured, sitting up as well as he could in the confined space of the bunk. They weren't allowed to leave the combine during lights out, and so going down to the shower facilities to wash up was out of the question. They'd have to just make do with what they had.

So, he grabbed one of his spare shirts from the end of the bunk, handing it over to Gale so that he could give himself a quick, perfunctory clean up. It wasn't much, and it certainly wouldn't do a good enough job, but the alternative was to just do nothing until the morning, and he knew that having to go to sleep while feeling even more unclean than he had before would be just asking for Gale to freak out about what they'd done.

Gale didn't say anything as he took the shirt, and so he simply turned over onto his back, doing his best to give Gale some sort of privacy as he cleaned himself up.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he stared up at the bottom of the bunk above him, although he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

He had finally gotten everything that he had ever wanted, but it had left him not really knowing where he and Gale stood. What if Gale came to his senses while he was sleeping, and he woke up to find himself alone in the bunk, with Gale doing his best to avoid him?

He had finally gotten everything he'd ever wanted, but what if it came at the cost of his and Gale's friendship? The worst possible outcome of this was that he'd end up losing Gale over it, and he had a horrible feeling that that might not be such an unlikely scenario.

He just didn't know what he was supposed to say in order to make sure that everything was still okay, which he could admit was a first for him. He was usually an expert on filling silences with empty words, and talking simply for the sake of talking, but this was different. It felt fragile, as though he was going to ruin everything if he said anything at all.

He was dragged back to the present moment by Gale gently nudging his elbow with his own, and he glanced over to find Gale holding the shirt out to him, “Thanks.” He murmured.

He took the shirt, refusing to let himself think about Gale's presence next to him as he unbuttoned his pants so that he could shove the shirt down into his skivvies, cleaning himself up as well as he could. It really wasn't enough, and he knew that he'd probably still wake up tomorrow morning feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but that was a problem to deal with in the morning.

If nothing else, cleaning himself up like this was an excuse to not have to look at Gale for a little longer, just because he was almost afraid of what he'd find when he did.

Once he'd done as good a job as he was going to do, he tossed the shirt down the end of the bunk to be dealt with tomorrow, before swallowing thickly as he finally turned back onto his side to face Gale, “You good?” He asked softly.

Gale just nodded, although there was something in his eyes that he didn't like, something that looked a little guarded, “Yeah.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” He echoed, fighting to keep his gaze from dropping to Gale's lips as the other man chewed nervously at the lower one.

He couldn't help but think of how those lips had felt pressed against his own, and he couldn't help but want to do it again. He knew that was out of the question, though, and so he simply shuffled a little closer on the pillow. He knew that he was pushing his luck, but he ducked down slightly to lightly flick the tip of his nose against Gale's shoulder, “Should try and get some sleep, Santa won't come if you're up all night.” He whispered, attempting to lighten the mood.

Gale nodded again, although he thankfully gave him a small smile as he tucked himself in slightly closer to his side, before turning over onto his own side, facing away from him.

He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation between himself and Gale right now. The other man didn’t seem to be particularly perturbed by what they'd done, but that didn't really mean anything. He knew that Gale was good at hiding his feelings and covering up how he really felt, and so he knew that there was no guarantee that Gale wasn't freaking out on the inside.

Still, at least Gale hadn't insisted that he should go back to his own bunk. They might have been sitting on slightly rocky territory, but Gale was still here. He wasn't facing him, but he was still pressed against his side, and so he'd take that as a good sign.

He turned over onto his own side, curling up close behind Gale. He didn't chance wrapping Gale in his arms, the way he really wanted to, but he was close enough to him that he could feel Gale's hair tickling his nose, and his knees were pressed to the back of Gale's knees, their bodies curled close together. They weren't quite spooning, but it was something. It was nice.

He knew that they'd probably have to face what they'd done tomorrow, but he didn't want to think about that right now. The only thing that mattered to him right now was the fact that Gale was still here, and that he was happy to curl up with his back pressed against his front.

So, he did his best to push any thoughts of tomorrow from his mind as he pressed his face in against Gale's hair, willing sleep to come to him.

The next morning, he couldn't say he was all too surprised when he woke up to find himself alone in the bunk.

It took him a moment to recall the events from the night before, but once he did, his stomach turned uncomfortably when he turned back over to find that Gale was nowhere to be seen.

Checking his watch, he found that it was still early enough, but not so early that they weren't allowed to leave the combine yet, and so he tried his best not to panic about the fact that Gale had already gotten up. He had probably just gone down to the shower facilities to clean himself up a little better, he wasn't necessarily panicking over what they had done and deliberately made himself scarce.

He hoped so anyway, because he couldn't stand the thought of Gale doing his best to avoid him.

He and Gale had left things on relatively good terms last night, though. They hadn't exactly spoken about what they'd done, but Gale had still pressed back against his body in order to seek warmth from him during the night, and he hadn't pulled away when he had curled in close to press his face in against the back of his neck.

He just hoped that, in the time since Gale had woken up and had left the bunk, that he hadn't done too much thinking about what they'd done, and that he hadn't managed to convince himself that it was wrong, and bad, and dirty. It wasn't, and so he just hoped that Gale hadn't told himself that it was.

Honestly, as far as he was concerned, last night had been everything that he'd ever dreamt of. Sure, like he'd said, he and Gale had still been fully clothed, and the most they had done was grind against each other, but he just.. that didn't matter to him. Getting to be with Gale at all made it all worth it, and he knew that he'd never regret a single thing that they'd done last night.

“Hey, Bucky.”

He looked over at the sound of his name, finding Brady half sat up in his own bunk, and the younger man waved over in his direction, “Hey.” He said softly, scratching a hand through his hair as he pushed himself up onto an elbow.

“Merry Christmas.” Brady said, tossing a folded piece of paper over in his direction.

He picked up the paper from where it had landed next to him on the bunk, opening it up to find that it was an attempt at a handmade Christmas card. It wasn't much; a piece of paper folded over with a Christmas tree drawn in pencil on the front, and a short To Bucky. Merry Christmas, from Johnny written on the inside, but it was nice that Brady had thought to do it, especially when there wasn't going to be much celebrating this year.

“Thanks, Johnny. Merry Christmas.” He said with a small smile. Brady had always been a good friend to him, and even though he'd never said as much; he'd forever be grateful for the fact that he'd made him jump first when their fort was going down. Otherwise, he couldn't say for sure that he would have jumped at all. Still, he didn't like to think about it.

“Hey, you seen Buck this morning?” He asked.

There weren't many places that they could go, but he figured he'd ask anyway. He just hoped that, wherever Gale had gone, that it was somewhere they might be able to talk. Maybe bringing it up was a bad idea, but he wanted to at least clear the air, and make sure that Gale wasn't completely freaking out on him.

Brady glanced back over at him, before shrugging his shoulders, “He got up a little while ago, think he went down to the showers.”

“Alright.” He said with a nod, “If he comes back while I'm gone, tell him I was looking for him?”

Brady nodded, “Yeah, will do.”

He clambered down off his bunk then as Brady went back to his own devices, although he tried his best not to grimace at the dried mess in his skivvies. He knew that only just cleaning themselves up with his shirt last night hadn't been the best idea, but it wasn't as if they'd had much of a choice. It was either that, or go to sleep without cleaning themselves up at all.

Speaking of which, the shirt that they'd used was nowhere to be seen, even though he'd left it down the end of the bunk. He guessed that Gale had probably taken it with him when he'd gone to the shower, in order to give it a wash.

He quickly got his things together, grabbing his last somewhat clean shirt, as well as a change of skivvies. His pants would last another couple of days before really needing to be washed, and so he'd just make do. As well as the change of clothes, he grabbed his gloves, and the chocolate bar that he'd been keeping for Gale. He had a feeling that he knew where Gale might be, and so he'd head straight there after he'd cleaned up.

As he made his way from the combine to the washroom, though, he couldn't say that he was particularly looking forward to having to clean up. He knew that he probably wouldn't feel overly clean unless he managed a proper shower, and while there were showers here; the water was always icy cold, and it dribbled out of the faucet. Still, it was better than nothing.

It seemed Gale had already finished up and left before he'd gotten there, and he actually found himself pretty relieved for that. He knew that he and Gale had to talk at some point today, but he didn't want it to be while they were both naked and attempting to clean themselves of the mess they'd made last night. They could talk after.

He quickly stripped off, before stepping under the shower. Like he'd known it would be, the water was freezing cold, and so he didn't bother wasting time, just rinsed himself down as well as he could.

He didn't regret giving Gale the last of his soap the other day, but he could admit that it made for a less than pleasant experience now. If he never had to clean dried come off of himself with nothing more than cold water, then he was more than fine with that.

He quickly dried off and dressed again once he'd cleaned himself up as well as he was going to, although he found himself wishing not for the first time that their winter clothes were a little heavier. His sweater was a little better than just a shirt, but it still wasn't a whole lot to keep warm.

Once he'd finished dressing, he figured that he'd head straight for the library. He had a feeling that Gale might be there, and he hoped that he was right. This early, he knew that the library would be pretty abandoned, and so he hoped that he might get lucky, and find Gale there by himself.

Still, as he walked there, he couldn't ignore the nerves twisting in his stomach. What if Gale didn't want to talk to him? He knew that it was a pretty likely possibility, but it was one that he didn't want to consider. They'd be fine, they had to be. He and Gale had gotten through worse than this, and so all he could do was try and tell himself that they'd be fine.

Letting himself into the library, he breathed a sigh of relief when he found Gale sat at the small table in the middle of the room, his cheek propped in his hand as he read whatever book he'd settled on. He was relieved to find that he was alone, too.

Gale hadn't noticed him yet, too caught up in his book, and he couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at his lips as he watched him. Gale's hair was still slightly damp from his own shower, and his cheeks and nose were flushed slightly pink with the cold. He looked beautiful, though, and he tried his best not to get too distracted by the thoughts of how Gale's lips had felt pressed against his own last night, or the way he had scraped his fingers down his back, or the soft sounds that he'd made as he came. He couldn't let himself think about any of that right now.

So, he simply knocked at the door frame, giving Gale a small smile when he looked up at the sound, “Hey.”

Gale smiled back, although it looked a little bit tight, a little bit nervous, “Hey, you survived.”

“Survived what?” He asked.

“Brady.” Gale said with a shrug, “He said earlier that he was gonna smother you with your pillow if you didn't quit snoring.”

He couldn't help but laugh, stepping a little further into the room, “And here I thought he was being nice, giving me a Christmas card.”

Gale nodded, “Yeah, I got one too. Think he was up all morning making ‘em.”

He just smiled, letting himself lean against the edge of the table. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to think here. Gale didn't seem too uneasy, but he knew that he was good at masking how he felt. He'd just never expected to be on the receiving end of that. Still, maybe everything was okay, maybe Gale wasn't actually freaking out.

So, he held out the pair of gloves, as well as the chocolate bar that he'd brought with him, “Merry Christmas, Buck.” He said softly, “Didn't have a bow or anything, so.. sorry they're not wrapped.”

Gale just looked at the gift for a moment, before looking back up at him, “What's this?” He asked.

“Your Christmas present.” He said, biting his lip gently, “I know it's not much, but I.. wanted to give you something, y’know? Since it's your birthday in two days too, and all that.”

Gale didn't say anything for a moment, although he eventually shook his head, a frown crossing his face, “I can't take these, John. They're your gloves.” He said softly.

“Yeah, but you need ‘em more than me. Did you forget how cold your hands were last night?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

He had only planned on giving Gale the chocolate bar, but after feeling how cold Gale's hands had been last night, and especially after finding out that he had traded his own gloves away, he figured that this was the least he could do for him.

Gale looked back down at his book, his cheeks flushing slightly at the mention of last night. He shook his head again after a moment, though, glancing back up at him, “I can't, John.”

“What, ‘cause of last night?” He asked.

He hadn't planned on just diving straight into it, but he couldn't let Gale use that as an excuse to not take the gifts. They could sweep it under the rug and pretend that it hadn't happened if that was what Gale really wanted, but he refused to let it change anything between them. Before, he knew that, aside from a perfunctory complaint about how he didn't have to do this, Gale would have just taken the gifts. He would have thanked him for the gloves, and he would have shared the chocolate bar with him, and that would be that.

Gale's cheeks flushed again, his jaw working as he tried to figure out what to say, “Last night was.. it was a mistake. It didn't mean anything, and it should never have happened.”

He sighed, his stomach dropping at the conviction with which Gale claimed that last night had been a mistake, and that it hadn't meant anything.

Sure, he'd known that it wasn't a good idea, and he had tried telling himself all along that it didn't actually mean a thing, but how was he supposed to pretend that that was the case? Last night had felt like probably the most important sex he'd ever had in his life, and so he couldn't stand here and pretend that it hadn't meant anything to him.

“That's really what you think? That it just.. didn't mean a thing?” He asked.

“It didn't.” Gale insisted, looking up at him. His cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, but he had the steely set to his jaw that he didn't like; the one that said that he wasn't going to budge.

He scoffed, shaking his head, “How can you say that?” He asked, “How can you sit there and act as if it didn't mean anything?”

“John-”

“No, I-” He cut himself off, sighing again. He didn't even know what he was supposed to say, how he was supposed to tell Gale that it had meant something to him, “Is it because of Marge?” He asked, “Is that it? You feel guilty?”

He hated to bring her up right now, but he just needed to know. Sure, he'd been expecting Gale to freak out this morning, but he had seemed so into it last night, and so he wasn't sure how he could sit here and claim that it hadn't meant anything. The only thing he could think of was that Gale was feeling guilty over being unfaithful to Marge, and he was trying to lessen that.

“It's not because of Marge.” Gale said, “It's..”

“Then what? ‘Cause you can say it was a mistake all you want, but don't tell me that it didn't mean anything, because it-”

“Because you shouldn't have had to.. do that.” Gale snapped, before shaking his head again as he slumped back into his seat, “I took advantage of you. I should've.. I should have just gone back to my own bunk, so you wouldn't have felt as though you had to do that.”

For a moment, he simply looked at Gale, because he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did Gale really think that he'd taken advantage of him, and that last night hadn't been everything that he'd ever wanted? It was such a ridiculous idea that he almost couldn't take it seriously, but Gale's features were still twisted into an unhappy frown, and it seemed that he could barely even make himself look at him.

“You're serious? That's what you actually think?” He asked, before a huff of laughter bubbled out of his throat, “Buck, I- I didn't do anything last night that I didn't want to do, that I haven't wanted to do for.. I can't even remember how long.”

He hadn't planned on admitting that to Gale any time soon, but he couldn't leave it like this. He couldn't just walk out of here and leave Gale thinking that he'd taken advantage of him last night. If anything, he had worried about it being the other way around, and so he couldn't just stand here and say nothing.

Gale looked up at him, a frown crossing his face, “You.. what?” He asked.

“It meant something to me.” He said softly, trying to ignore the nerves twisting in his stomach again, “Ever since I met you, I've..” He trailed off, huffing softly, “I don't know, Buck. I wanted it, I've always wanted it.”

“Come on, John.” Gale sighed, and it looked as if he didn't know what he wanted to do with himself; whether he wanted to continue this conversation, or whether he wanted to be literally anywhere other than here.

“Why'd you think I kissed you, huh? Why'd you think I did any of that if it wasn't what I wanted?”

“That's just this place talking, John.” Gale said softly, “It's been a long time, for both of us, and we got caught up doing something we shouldn't have done, and y-”

“I love you.”

He felt as if he could have been sick once the words were out, but he couldn't do this. He couldn't stand here and let Gale try and talk him out of something that he knew he wanted. If Gale didn't feel the same way, then that was something he'd just have to deal with, but he needed to give him the whole story.

Gale just looked at him, and it was impossible to even try and decipher the expression on his face.

“I've been in love with you since we were in flight school.” He admitted, a huff of laughter spilling from him, even as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, “So don't try and tell me that it didn't mean anything, ‘cause I know how I feel, and I know what I want. Maybe it didn't mean anything to you, but I-”

He was cut off when Gale stood up from his seat and crossed the distance between them to pull him into a hard kiss, the force of it enough to have him staggering back a couple of steps, his back colliding with the bookshelf behind him.

For a moment, he simply froze, caught off guard by what was happening. It didn't take him long to catch up, though, and he dropped his hands to Gale's hips to pull him closer as he kissed him back.

This was.. he couldn't quite believe that this was actually happening. He'd been so afraid of what the outcome of this conversation would be; he'd been so afraid of Gale feeling like he couldn't be around him anymore, of Gale being disgusted by what they'd done last night. For some reason, this outcome hadn't been on his radar, and he barely had the words to describe how grateful he was.

He lifted one hand to fit it around the curve of Gale's jaw as they kissed, before stepping away from the bookshelf so that he could turn them around, pressing Gale back against the shelf.

Like this, he had a slight height advantage on the other man, and it felt so good to crowd up against Gale like this, to feel the way that he had to raise up slightly onto his toes in order to reach him. They were very nearly the same height, though, and that was something he wasn't used to.

Gale's lips were soft but slightly chapped against his own as their mouths moved together, and he couldn't help the soft noise that spilled from his throat as he parted his lips to Gale's tongue, meeting it with his own.

Last night, he'd been too caught up in the pleasure of what they were doing to really take in just how good it was to kiss Gale like this. Now, all he wanted was to sink into it. He could feel Gale's fingers shaking where he was still holding onto the front of his sweater, but he understood that this was all just a little bit overwhelming. He felt it too, and so he didn't see a reason to stop.

Dropping both of his hands back down, he slid them underneath the end of Gale's sweater, pressing his fingers to the bare skin of Gale's waist. He hadn't really gotten a chance to touch him last night, and now, he never wanted to stop. He wanted to press his thigh between both of Gale's again and see what other noises he could get him to make that he hadn't heard last night. He wanted to sink to his knees between Gale's legs and taste him. He wanted everything.

As if he could read his mind, Gale pulled back from the kiss, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned his forehead against his, “Wait, John, I.. we can't do this here.” He whispered.

He pulled back just far enough to look at Gale, biting his lip gently, “We can't do it here, or we can't do it at all?” He asked. He didn't want to consider the possibility that Gale was already backtracking here, but he knew that it wasn't impossible. Maybe Gale had been just as caught off by that kiss as he'd been.

Gale just looked up at him, before lifting a hand to gently brush his fingers against his cheek, “We can't do it here.” He said softly, “Anyone could walk by and see, and I..”

“I know.” He murmured, leaning into Gale's touch.

He got it, he knew that they were fucked if anyone walked by and saw them all over each other. The best case scenario was that it was one of their guys, but if it was anybody else? If it was one of the guards? He didn't even want to think of what the consequences might be.

Still, it almost felt like there was a weight lifted off his chest at the fact that Gale had said that they just couldn't do it here, and not that they couldn't do it at all. It gave him a bit of hope that maybe it would all be okay.

So, he glanced back to make sure that there was nobody out in the corridor, before taking the front of Gale's sweater and walking him back to the other corner of the room, so that they were next to the doorway, rather than in front of it. At least here, nobody would see them if they were simply walking by.

He cupped Gale's face in between his hands, leaning in to press their lips together again. This kiss was softer, sweeter, and it wasn't much more than the simple press of Gale's mouth against his own. It was the kind of kiss that he had always imagined sharing with Gale.

He pulled back after a moment, lightly flicking his nose against Gale's, “It meant something to me.” He whispered, letting his thumb gently trace the silvery scar on Gale's cheek, “It's always meant something to me.”

“I didn't know.” Gale said softly, his hands on his hips to hold him close, “I thought.. I don't know, I thought I'd cornered you into it last night. I didn't know how I was supposed to face you this morning.” He admitted.

He smiled, closing his eyes as he leaned in to press his forehead against Gale's again, “I mean this with all the love in the world, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.” He teased.

Gale just huffed softly in response, sliding his arms around his waist again.

For a moment, they simply stood in silence, their eyes closed, their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Gale's hands pressed just underneath the end of his sweater, his fingers touching the bare skin of his waist. Honestly, he could have stayed here for the rest of his life, with he and Gale breathing the same air, and touching each other with gentle fingers.

“I love you too, by the way.” Gale murmured after a moment, “Just in case that wasn't clear.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Gale said with a tiny smile.

He smiled back, although it dropped slightly after a moment, “What about Marge?” He asked.

It was no secret that Gale was planning on marrying her once they got home from the war, and he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself if he got in the way of that. Marge had always been a good friend to him, and so even though he'd never loved anybody the way he loved Gale, he didn't want to end up hurting her in the process.

In saying that, though, he didn't know how he was supposed to just let this go, now that he'd had a taste of what it was like to be with Gale. This was everything he'd ever wanted, and so he wasn't sure how he could just pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Gale frowned, although he didn't pull away from him, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns against the bare skin of his waist, “I don't know.” He said softly, “She's.. I'm going to marry her, John. I can't just leave her.”

“I know, I wouldn't want you to.” He admitted. He couldn't live with that on his conscience, and so he was relieved that Gale hadn't promised him that he'd leave Marge for him. He just wasn't sure where that left them.

Thankfully, though, Gale smiled again, even though it still looked a little bit unsure, “We'll figure it out, alright? We'll figure something out.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm tired of pretending I don't feel anything for you.” Gale admitted softly, “I don't want to give this up.”

He just smiled, closing his eyes as he leaned in to press his forehead against Gale's again. That was enough for him, to know that Gale felt the same way for him, and that he was willing to try.

He cupped Gale's chin in his hand, giving him one last soft kiss before pulling back just far enough to look at him again, “So will you please just take the gifts now?” He asked, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Gale huffed softly, rolling his eyes, “I'll take the chocolate.” He conceded, “And I want you to share it with me.”

“And the gloves?”

“They're your gloves, John. You'll need ‘em just as much as I would.” Gale said softly.

“I won't need them. I've got you to keep me warm.” He teased.

Gale rolled his eyes again, although it was impossible to miss the faint flush that coloured his cheeks, “Fine, but I'm making you take them back if you get cold.”

“I can live with that.” He huffed.

He knew that it would be weeks before the weather started to turn warm again, and that there probably would be the odd night here and there where he wished that he still had his gloves, but he meant what he'd said.

Gale could keep him warm on the particularly cold nights, and he was glad that they could use that as an excuse for when he simply wanted to be close to him. He knew that, on the freezing cold nights, that nobody would think twice about it if they found he and Gale curled up together.

He was glad that he wouldn't have to hide it from Gale either. Sure, he had never shied away from tucking himself in against his side when it was cold, but he'd always been afraid of crossing a line, of doing something that Gale wouldn't be comfortable with. Now, he was glad that it didn't have to be like that, that he could be open with Gale when it came to his feelings for him.

“What's wrong?” He asked, upon noticing the slightly downturned tilt to Gale's expression.

Gale just shrugged, before glancing back up at him, “I didn't get you a gift.”

It hadn't crossed his mind to even expect anything in return, mainly because the gifts he'd gotten Gale weren't anything to write home about. He'd just never considered the idea of not getting Gale anything, and especially because, as well as Christmas, it was his birthday in two days.

So, he just smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of stringy hair out of Gale's face, “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.” He said again.

Gale did what he was told, leaning up to press their lips together in a soft kiss. It wasn't anything more than that, just the gentle press of Gale's lips against his own, although he could feel the smile pulling at Gale's lips.

“There.” He said once he'd pulled back, lightly flicking the tip of his nose against Gale's, “That's my gift.”

Gale huffed, rolling his eyes. He was smiling, though, and that was all he could have asked for, “You're sweet.”

He smiled, pulling Gale in again as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a hug, Gale's arms coming up to wrap around his waist again in return, “Merry Christmas, Buck.” He whispered, leaning his chin on Gale's shoulder.

He could have stayed here forever; reveling in the weight of Gale's arms around him, the warmth of his body pressed close against his own, the feeling of his breath against his cheek as Gale turned his face in towards the embrace. He and Gale had hugged a thousand times before, but this was different. It was more, and he found himself never wanting to let this go.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Gale whispered, gently nudging his nose against his cheek.

He had no idea how much longer they'd be here for, but he was pretty sure that getting to have this with Gale would make it a little bit more bearable. It would give him something to fight for, something to actually make it through this for. He could. If it was for Gale, then he knew he could.

It wasn't much, but he could work with it.

[cassiebones]

'15. I'm your gift this year' for the Agathario writing prompt, please!

Four Days to Christmas

"When are you coming home?"

Agatha sighed. Her son's eyes were visibly wet on the other side of the Zoom call, his bottom lip protruding as he gave her his sad puppy dog look. The only difference now was that she could tell he wasn't using the look to get something he wanted from her and was genuinely sad that she wasn't there with him this time.

She was in California this week, working on a last-minute work 'emergency' they'd called it, but honestly she could have probably done this via Zoom and remote access to somebody's computer. Men were just highly incompetent, it seemed. She vowed that her son would never be this incompetent, though.

"Soon," Agatha promised. "I'll be home before Christmas, I swear. I just have to finish up a few things here and then I'll be on the next plane home. Maybe I'll even hitch a ride with Santa Claus."

That didn't get the giggle she had hoped it would. Nicky's face was still somber, a tear leaking out from the corner of his eye. Agatha's heart ached.

This was the first holiday season in his short six years of life that she wasn't home to help him and her wife put up the tree or decorate the house or bake Christmas cookies. She'd had to watch them do all that while on Zoom as she put out fires at the California office that her inept colleagues had set nearly every day this month.

At this point, she swore they were doing it on purpose just to keep her away from her family - or to avoid their own families.

She was putting out feelers at other companies, one based closer to home, with the understanding that she was not available to travel this far away, especially during the holidays. As soon as she found another job, she was putting in her resignation, cashing in her PTO, and leaving these imbeciles in the dust.

"I will make it home to you," Agatha promised again. "You have my word."

She didn't know if she could make that promise. It was four days until Christmas and she didn't even have a flight booked, but she would spend any amount of money just to see that little face in person.

Nicky's chin quivered, and Agatha's heart cracked just a little bit more.

Three Days to Christmas

"How are things going over there?" Rio asked. Agatha groaned, flopping down onto her hotel bed. "So good then?"

Agatha let out a snort. "I don't know how I ended up at a company so full of idiots," she said. "I swear to Goddess, babe, I don't know how these men have survived this far in life without walking straight into traffic. They are so dumb. And now they're going to make me late for Christmas." She felt tears spring into her eyes.

"It'll be all be okay," Rio said, soothingly. "Everything will work out like it should. You just focus on showing these idiots up and making them realize what they're going to be missing when you're gone. Speaking of, have you heard back from anywhere?"

"Several places, actually," Agatha said. "I'm going with whoever offers me the first contract. Which seems to be...Kale Kare. I'm not really into their products, but I can be if Jen Kale can get me back to New Jersey before Christmas Eve." Christmas Eve was in two days.

"Good luck with that," Rio said with a chuckle. "I believe in you, babe."

"I love you," Agatha replied, her voice soft as she turned over on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Tell Nicky I'm going to be there."

"I will," Rio promised. "I love you, too."

Two Days to Christmas

Agatha was going to end up in prison on Christmas. She was going to be using her one phone call to speak to her son, to apologize and tell him that she wouldn't be making it home after all because she couldn't keep herself from strangling three grown men with her bare fucking hands.

If she had been allowed to handle everything on her own, without their ineptitude slowing her down, Agatha would have been home weeks ago, but these morons were fucking everything up with their cocky attitudes and unwillingness to ask her for assistance until it was nearly too late.

Agatha's resignation letter was sitting in a draft in her email, waiting for Jennifer Kale to send the contract for Agatha's signature. It was taking her a minute, but Agatha knew that she had to make sure that everything was ironclad as her lawyers looked over it.

Jen Kale's operations were based in New York, just an hour outside Westview, and while she had operations in other states, it was in Agatha's contract that she would not make Agatha travel anywhere more than a three-hour flight away too close to any major holiday or birthday in her family.

Also, her company was 95% female-led, which would be a refreshing change, and she could match Agatha's current salary.

All she needed to do was sign on the dotted line.

Jennifer's email found her after midnight. Agatha spent most of the early hours of Christmas Eve reading through the contract, checking everything off her list, then signed and sent it back. She fired off her resignation letter to the CEO after that, placing her phone on Do Not Disturb before buying herself a ticket home for Christmas.

One Day to Christmas

All flights were delayed.

Agatha wanted to cry. It was six hours until midnight. She was at the airport, running on three hours of sleep, grumpy as all hell. Her wife wasn't answering her phone or texts, and her flight was delayed indefinitely due to a snowstorm in Newark the fucking night before Christmas.

Tears stung her eyes as she paced the terminal, waiting for the inevitable announcement that her flight would just be straight-up cancelled.

Nicky was going to be so upset.

"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcement said above her head. Agatha's heart sunk. "We regret to inform you that flight 1674, from San Francisco to Newark, has been delayed until 11 am on December 25th. We are so sorry to have disrupted your holiday plans. You will all receive a voucher for a complimentary meal, as well as discounted rates at the nearest hotels. Once again, our apologies. Happy Holidays."

"Fuck," Agatha whined, plopping down into a seat. "Fuck."

"That's a bad word."

Agatha nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to see her wife and child standing just feet away. Tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to them, dropping to her knees in front of her son and pulling him into her embrace, squeezing him tightly as though he would vanish into thin air if she let him go even for a single second.

"What are you doing here?" she huffed, looking up at Rio, who was just as misty-eyed as she stared down at them. "How did you get here? Isn't there a snowstorm?"

"Just missed us," Rio said. "We left before it started."

"How did you know I wouldn't make it home in time? Did you have so little faith in me?" Agatha stood, hefting Nicky onto her hip, holding him close to her body.

"Oh, sweetheart," Rio said, stepping closer to cup her cheek in her hand, "it had nothing to do with that. My lack of faith was in your incompetent business partners." She rolled her eyes. "I bought Nicky and myself a couple of open-ended plane tickets. The fact that we were able to get a flight so last-second is a minor miracle in itself. But I knew when I saw the weather report this morning that you'd never be able to make it home, by no fault of your own. So...here we are, bringing Christmas to you."

"Babe," Agatha breathed, pulling Rio in by her scarf, pressing her lips to the other woman's. Rio wrapped her arms around Agatha and Nicky, sinking into Agatha's kiss. "I love you so damn much," Agatha whispered against her wife's lips.

"That's also a curse," Nicky piped up, eliciting a snort from Agatha and a laugh from Rio as she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and poked him in the side. Nicky giggled, pressing his face into Agatha's neck.

"Come on," Agatha said, already reaching for her suitcase. "Next flight isn't until eleven AM. Let's go find a hotel and get something to eat."

"Sounds good to me," Rio said, slinging her arm around Agatha's waist as they headed in the direction of the exit.

Zero Days to Christmas

"Mami! Mama! Wake up! It's Christmas!"

Agatha groaned, pulling her wife more closely to her body. It had been three weeks since she'd last seen the other woman in person, and they'd barely gotten four hours of sleep after finally getting Nicky to sleep the night before, his excitement for Christmas practically having him bouncing off the walls into the early hours of the morning.

They had set the expectation that Santa probably wouldn't find them in the hotel, on the opposite side of the country, in time for Christmas, but all his gifts would almost certainly be under the tree when they returned home to Westview, which would no doubt be covered in several feet of snow. Nicky was ostensibly fine with that.

But now he was acting the way he'd acted every Christmas since he realized what the holiday meant for their family: like he was about to find a pile of gifts under the tree with his name on them.

But there was no tree this year, not in this hotel, anyway. There was nothing to unwrap. They'd do all that when they got back to Jersey.

"Come on!" Nicky huffed, tugging the comforter off of their huddled bodies, exposing them to the cold. "Get up!"

Agatha groaned, shoving her face into Rio's neck.

"I brought a few things," Rio whispered in her ear, so low that Agatha almost missed it. "Just so he'd have something to open."

"Whyyyyyy?" Agatha moaned, wrapping her body more tightly around Rio's. Rio chuckled in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Stay in bed," she said, extracting herself. "I'll make you some coffee and be right back. We'll bring the gifts here."

"I love you so fucking much," Agatha all but whined, pressing a kiss to Rio's lips before letting her go.

"Alright, buddy," she heard Rio say. "Show me where the gifts Santa left you are."

"Why isn't Mama coming?" Nicky asked.

"Because somebody kept her up until nearly two in the morning," Rio snorted. "You're lucky Santa brought you anything at all after that. She needs coffee."

Rio shut the door behind them, leaving Agatha in peace for a few moments. She found herself drifting back off to sleep almost immediately, so exhausted from the previous night and the entirety of the last month away from her family. She didn't sleep very well without her human pillow, Rio, or the little bundle of energy they'd made together (sperm donor or not, there was no way to convince Agatha that Nicky wasn't biologically Rio's son, not when they shared so many similar features.)

Her ex-colleagues had been trying to get back in touch with her since she'd emailed her resignation, insisting that they could increase her pay if she would just stay with the company. Agatha refused to even entertain the idea. There was no amount they could pay her that would justify her doing 85% of the work in a team of four people. And they were all local while she had to fly across the country for it? No way.

She hoped Kale Kare would be a better fit. She was almost certain it would be. And Agatha would happily watch her old company sink like the Titanic in the meantime.

She was awoken next by a soft kiss on her cheek. Agatha's eyes fluttered open to see Rio standing above her, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

"Morning, my love," Rio said, "again. Coffee?"

"Marry me," Agatha sighed, sitting up as she took the offered cup.

"We're already married," Rio laughed.

"I was talking to the coffee," Agatha huffed, making Rio bark out a laugh. She bumped the other woman's shoulder as she sat down on the bed next to her, her own cup of steaming tea in her hands. Nicky was at the end of the bed, holding his red and green striped stocking, stuffed with as many gifts as Rio could fit into her backpack without arising suspicion from the boy.

"Santa Clause brought me my stocking!" he told them. "He said that he realized we weren't home, so he decided to just bring this, but all my other gifts are under our tree."

"Well, that was nice of him," Agatha said. "We should send him a thank you letter for being so thoughtful."

"Yeah!" Nicky said. "He didn't bring your stockings, though." He shrugged, sympathetically.

"That's okay," Agatha said. "I'm sure we'll manage until tonight."

"Open your presents," Rio encouraged. "Show us what you got!"

Nicky got some toy figurines from his favorite show, a mini bunny squishmallow, two toy cars, and goodie bag of his favorite candies. He let out a squeal for every gift he unwrapped, hugging them all against his chest as he bounced on the bed with excitement.

"Wow, if that's just what Santa brought you in your stocking, I can't imagine what he has under the tree for you," Agatha said.

"We may need to take out a second mortgage," Rio whispered in her ear. Agatha snorted, pressing her face to her wife's shoulder.

"Can I go play with my new toys?" Nicky asked, already jumping off the bed with all his goodies in his arms.

"Go ahead," Agatha said, "but leave the candy here. No sweets before breakfast."

"Okay," Nicky groaned, dropping the bag onto the bed, before running around to Agatha's side, throwing himself into her arms. "I'm glad we could be together for Christmas," he murmured into her shoulder. Agatha felt tears spring to her eyes as she hugged him back, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Me too, baby," she said. "Now, go play. We gotta start getting ready to head back to the airport in a couple of hours."

"Okay!" Nicky exclaimed, already running back to the door, pulling it closed behind him as he entered the main room of their hotel suite.

Agatha took another sip of her coffee and sighed as she leaned into Rio's side. "I didn't get a gift for you this year," she said, regretfully. "I didn't have the time. I'm sorry."

"You did get a gift for me, actually," Rio said, taking her mug from her hands and placing it on the bedside table next to her own. "You are my gift this year, my love. And I'm yours." Agatha smiled as Rio pressed her lips to hers, Rio's arms encircling her waist as she pulled her closer.

[strwberri-milk]

same anon who asked whether or not I can request for two characters from different fandoms. Since you’ve confirmed that I can, I’d like to request for Wriothesley + Sylus

This is something I suffer with personally, so that explains why I wanted to see what you think they’d do. Basically, reader has severe separation anxiety and abandonment issues. They think it’s just ‘clinginess’ at first but then they start realising how abnormal this ‘clinginess’ is when they have to leave reader to attend something important and reader desperately clinging onto them. They quickly realise what’s actually going on and it gets to a point where they’re scared of leaving reader alone at home because they’re worried she might end up hurting herself.

Sorry if I was too detailed. You can skip over the details and just write them with a GN or fem reader that has separation anxiety. Thank youu! 💕

i get this bc i also have bad abandonment issues but also i do reccoemend that you try to talk to people you're worried about leaving you more transparently and seeing if you can get some more security in your relationships/try to untrain yourself from the assumption that you'll be left because as im sure you know this constant dread is very exhausting but i promise you people arent going to abandon you that easily - i didnt want to go into details about reader hurting themseleves bc once things get to that point relationships can become toxic and im not a big fan of stuff like that at the moment!!

Sylus doesn't realise just how clingy you are until the twins and Mephisto report it to him when he goes on his business trip. You had a hard time letting him go but he thought that was you playing with him and being dramatic so he brushed it off. You're grown, and he knows that despite how needy you are you'd be fine by yourself. Or at least he thought you would be.

When he comes home you refuse to let him out of your sight, or if he does need to leave you're blowing up his phone. He doesn't mind showering you in attention but he's also worried for you, not wanting to make you feel as though he's going to randomly just leave you one day.

He spends his days subtly implying to you that he isn't leaving you that easily. He doesn't say anything to you about how he suspects you're having some problems with abandonment, simply deciding to make it so that you don't have to doubt his feelings for you. He never ends a conversation without reminding you how much he loves you, texts you whenever he's going to be running late, and makes an effort to reach out whenever he's thinking about you (which is pretty much all the time). Slowly but surely you gain confidence in him at the very least, making it a little easier for you to let him leave for longer periods of time.

Wriothesley clocks it pretty quickly, noting how you can't handle it when he tries to go on patrols and with help from Sigewinne who points it out when he's trying to figure out what's wrong with you. Rather than taking a passive approach he "confronts" you head on, telling you what he thinks and asking if he's right. It takes you a second but you decide to nod, admitting that his assumption is indeed correct.

He takes the information in slowly, mind beginning to come up with ways he can try and help alleviate this burden you feel. He asks you what the best ways to assuage your doubt would be, what sorts of things he can do to make you feel less anxious when he's gone. He knows he could be better at communicating with you when he's off on longer jobs, trying to find some middle ground for the two of you to sit on so he can both get work done and keep you happy.

You aren't sure what to make of it at first, finding things a little overwhelming with how anxious you are. However, thanks to his consistency you can feel yourself relaxing, the fear of separation and abandonment no longer hanging over your head as heavily.

[zevlovor]

Can I ask for your thoughts about how Zevlor would react to Tav accidentally saying you want to kiss him out loud while staring at his lips please?

Pairing: Zevlor x gn Reader Tav

Setting: The morning after you and Zevlor were shamelessly flirting the night away and he kissed your cheek goodnight.

_

Zevlor was going on and on about everything you needed to prepare for battle. Formations, weapons, equipment, medicine, spells, strategies, etc. You were *not* paying attention.

To what he was saying anyway.

His perched, supple lips had a way of moving that entranced you like an exotic dance. You admired the subtle wrinkle that dented the middle of his pouty bottom lip. What you wouldn't give to feel those lips against yours.

"I hope that covers everything, Tav. Actually, I don't think we went over everyone's prepared spells. Maybe if we-" He tilted his head at you. He noticed the vacant look in your gaze, as if in a trance. "My dear, are you alright?" His eyes swell with concern for you. You are sitting there, objectifying him, and all he can do is be *concerned* for you.

You come to your senses for a moment, "Me? Oh.. yes. Yes of course. Mostly thanks to you. I may have never gone to sleep if you didn't make me."

Zevlor raises a brow with a bit of a cheeky grin playing at those delicious lips, "Is that so? I am quite honored considering you don't strike me as someone who does what they are told." He lets out a hearty chuckle. You watch as his velvet rose-colored lips stretch into a charming grin. His mouth has complete control over you right now. You can't control what you say next.

"I would do anything you say for a kiss on the lips, honestly" you blurt. Your face heats up with embarassment, but you don't really regret it.

Zevlor is taken aback. He has turned down the advances of many suitors in favor of his duties. But you didn't seem to mind how dutiful he was. He couldn't deny the fact that he had been dreaming of kissing your lips for days. He has no idea how to respond, he tries not to lose his cool.

"I suppose I did tease you a bit with that kiss on the cheek last night," he admits. Although, from his perspective, he wasn't trying to tease you. He thought you were a worthy but young ally, and he only wanted to be a gentleman. You would prefer he stop being a gentleman right now.

"Zevlor, we didn't really discuss morale for battle strategy. I think I will fight much better if you..." your voice trails off as does your confidence. Zevlor can see how he's torturing you. He can't leave you hanging any longer.

"Tav..." his deep, soothing, husky voice caresses your ears. He takes your cheek in his large calloused hand and tilts his head, lowering his lips to meet yours.

He kisses you deeply, pressing his lips into you like you are water and he hasn't had a drink for weeks. You have no idea how long he's been wanting to do this.

You whimper as the kiss takes your breath away, closing your eyes and sinking into the sensation. He tastes like cinders mixed with honey, reminiscent of his hypnotic eyes. You can feel the heat of his skin and the pressure of his embrace as he pulls you closer to him with his other hand. He has a strong, firm, presence, but is alarmingly gentle for such a rugged man.

You couldn't help but slip your tongue into his mouth as he pulls away, just to signal that you will definitely be back for more. He goes silent and looks at you with eyes of a nervous puppy, awkwardly stammering, "Th-that was.. truly wonderful, Tav."

You smile at him confidently. He is so cute when he's flustered. "Now that was a kiss for good luck. Should we both survive, we can pick up where we left off tonight..." you flash him a playful grin. Zevlors eyes widen at your invitation. He quickly comes up with a smooth response.

"We'll have to wait and see if you can still do what you're told then, darling." Zevlor winks, your clear attraction for him growing his confidence. It isn't long before the others join the two of you, forcing you both to remain professional once again. It's almost time to face the music and save the Grove.

Zevlor fights only for his people or his values. Today, he will be fighting for you.

END

-

Thank you for this ask, anon!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I wanted to post a little something for you guys today. For those of you who celebrate any holidays this season, I wish you a happy one. Having all of you as followers and friends in this lovely little community was the best gift I could have hoped for 🫶

And soon, very soon I hope, I will be posting something other than straight fluff 🤭 it is just too fun to write 😘

Love you all 🫶

⚔️❤️‍🔥Krys❤️‍🔥⚔️

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 46: Chisme

Merry Christmas, yah filthy animals! 😜 This has been long overdue, and while this year has been awful and landed me in the hospital for emergency surgery, it actually forced me to slow down and rest - which helped me finally finish this installment~! Hope you enjoy 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 21,000+

Summary: You feel serene and content now that Javi knows what you've been going through. It's brought you both even closer. So as the gala looms close, and you each get wind about all the gossip regarding your not-so-secret relationship at work, will the opinions of others test you both?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, angst, wariness, anxiety, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, light bondage and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, animosity, foreboding threats, and resentment. Some Jealous!Javi, Protective! Javi, Nervous!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Chapter 46: Chisme

After the surprising rollercoaster of emotion and passion that transpired following the barbecue, you and Javier are on cloud nine.

It felt like the last big wall that you'd kept up to guard your heart had fallen away, and Javi was still there, devoted and willing to love and protect you. And for him, it felt like a big obstacle had been conquered for you both. Not to mention that you understood the depth of his love for you, finally, while also making him feel the most fulfilled he's ever been. Yet still yearning hopefully for so much more still to come.

The next morning, while still cuddled in his arms, you'd told him about everything. Explained everything the doctors had told you so far, all the tests and check-ups, how you'd been off of the pill since before he'd come down to take the job. All your fears regarding your fertility issues being permanent – seemingly inherited from your mother, who'd had trouble conceiving. How that had played a role in the dissolution of your parents' marriage.

How you'd started to consciously fear that the same would happen between you and Javier.

His heart had ached at you telling him that.

Resolute, Javi had insisted, "Querida, that would never happen—"

"But, I just…I wasn't sure. We'd talked about it so loosely, but that was if it happened by accident. And—And at the time, I didn't think that I wouldn't be able to. That the choice wouldn't be mine. I spent so much of my life protecting myself from getting pregnant, I didn't ever think the possibility was nonexistent—"

Gently, he'd pressed, "Mi amor, you don't know that yet. You said nothing's been diagnosed yet."

Taking a breath, you'd gazed into his eyes, and asked, "What if, you want to start a family one day, and I…I can't get pregnant?"

"Honestly? I spent all day yesterday anxious, thinking you might've been, and I was," Javi paused, not wanting to say 'I was scared' since it wasn't accurate, but then he continued, "I was nervous. I don't think I'm cut out to be a parent. To be a father" was his admittance, and at your shocked expression, he confessed, "But then, seeing you hold the baby? Thinking of us being there for each other, doing it together, if it was happening? It didn't seem scary anymore."

Touched deeply by that, you'd hugged him tight, and Javier nuzzled you sweetly when you whispered, "Really?"

"Absolutely," he'd assured, dark brewed eyes softening as he caressed your cheek tenderly.

He'd gone on to tell you how it wasn't anything like the last time he'd had the prospect of fatherhood foisted upon him. How Lorraine telling him she was late had filled him with terror, and a paralyzing sense of doom. But that the thought of not doing right by her hadn't even crossed his mind. The obligation is what had kept him in the relationship that had always been rocky, with only the hope of being a good father – a good provider – keeping him from sinking into dread every day. And how all of that had caved in around him when she'd told him the day before the wedding that she'd gotten her period. That from the start, she hadn't been completely sure she was pregnant, but had thought it would be good for them – that it'd make them settle down, and commit completely.

It was the most Javier had ever spoken about that time. Sure, you'd known important details. That around the same time he'd been thinking of applying to the DEA, Lorraine had told him she was late. How to keep things from devolving into gossip and drama – to preserve her honor and not disappoint her parents, he'd told her they should get married. And the rush to plan something had included asking her father for his blessing, showing him the ring Lorraine had picked out and he'd purchased, and booking the chapel on the hot summer day for the nuptials to happen not even a month later.

But hearing how the feelings had been so different then than they'd been for him the day before? That unlike feeling resigned to his fate then, he'd felt something shift for him at the thought of you being pregnant? It made your heart feel full.

So, all the fear and shame melted away when Javier had told you with genuine feeling, "If we're meant to have a family, we will. Nothing is decided for us. As long as we love each other, and we want to make a life together, that's everything I could ever want. I want to build a life that matters with you, Celina. I want to make you happy. I love you."

As you wait outside the shop, reminiscing about the heart-to-heart, you think about how you'd told Javi, "I love you so much, Javier. I want the same thing," and are distracted in your fawning thoughts, so you don't notice Zoraida rush over from the nearest mall entry until she's tapping you on the shoulder.

Startled, you whirl around and huff at yourself before warmly greeting her with a kiss on the cheek and hug.

"Someone's jumpy," she wisecracks, smiling as she gives you a knowing once over. "Did you get a tan?"

"I did," you answer simply and lope over to the front display window of the shop. "Rafa is meeting us here, right?"

"Yep! He's on his way from Buchanan," she retorts and checks her watch. "Tayra said she's coming from Guaynabo, so hopefully she'll get here soon."

"And the plan is for the engagement party to happen Sunday at their place, right?" you ask, as you absently balance your weight onto your left hip and shift your purse to sit more comfortably on your shoulder.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a surprise. He's taking her away to propose Saturday, and when they come back home, the party will be happening," she explains, then adds amusedly, "I cannot believe one of us is finally going to succumb to marriage."

"Well, she could end up saying no, so the surprise party might be kind of awkward," you sarcastically muse.

"Ay, por favor. You know she's been wanting to get married forever," is your friend's glib reminder, to which you concede with a sardonic shrug. "Are you bringing Javier to the party?"

"Yes, and I'm warning you from now to not give him the third degree, ok?" is your stern mutter, crossing your arms when she scoffs and waves you off, so you insist, "Seriously. I want to bring him along and just have a nice time. The focus should be on Naida and Rafa anyway—"

"What're you lecturing Zory on?"

You both turn to see Tayra approach from the central promenade of the mall, with her long stride and confident poise.

"Eh, she doesn't want us to interrogate her jevo on Sunday," Zoraida deadpans before kissing her hello on the cheek. "With her track record, I don't think we should listen—"

"Zory!" you snipe, taking umbrage before quickly greeting Tayra hello.

"Well, she has a point. We didn't do nearly the questioning we should've the last time—" is Tayra's matter-of-fact musing that you scoff dismissively at.

"This isn't like the last time. I've told you plenty about him and our relationship already. Probably more than I should've. So be satisfied with that, and please, just be nice to him," you beseech, hands going to your dark blue pantsuit-clad hips when they both exchange contrarian looks.

Just as they seem about to tag team you with their objections, Rafa approaches from the nearest entryway into the mall.

"Hey, guys! Thanks for meeting me and helping out with this," Rafael Pagán, Naida's longtime boyfriend, greets boisterously as he hugs you each.

"We're more than happy to!" you affably assure.

The discussion around Javier is put to the back burner, and the four of you enter the jewelry store filled with wall-to-wall display cases. You are greeted by a saleswoman behind the center display console, who helps guide you all over to the engagement ring section.

The assortment of fine jewelry and lavish-looking diamonds throughout are clearly intimidating for Rafa, so you three talk through all the specifications you know Naida would like in an engagement ring.

"—Something that will fit a setting like this one. She's never liked the standard wedding band."

"Yeah, and no pear-cut diamond! She thinks it's the ugliest."

"And yellow gold. She thinks platinum gold is nice, but she doesn't think it looks traditional enough."

After perusing the display counter individually, you each decide to pick out a ring for consideration.

"Oh, what about that one?" you point out a specific ring in the display case to the saleslady, and once she's retrieved and placed it down on the glass surface for you all, you remark, "It looks timeless, elegant."

The girls check out the sweeping cross-prong, classic 3-stone engagement ring in the yellow gold band, admiring the clarity of the center circular diamond and the smaller matching ones on either side of it.

"Wow, it kind of looks like one of the ones she used to have in that scrapbook, remember?" Tayra remarks, and Zoraida nods along.

"Uh, scrapbook?" Rafa asks, looking nervous.

"Oh, don't worry. It's not like she's been fantasizing about her perfect wedding since she was 13-years-old or anything," Zoraida can't help quip, and you shake your head comically at her adding, "All the way down to the pattern of the napkins at the reception—"

"Anyway, I think this one is definitely a contender," you redirect sagely and gesture for the girls to keep perusing the display case.

Doing so, Tayra selects a more vintage-looking option, while Zoraida picks out a very glitzy 18-karat gold and knife-edge diamond ring with smaller stones lapping the band on either side of the big princess-cut center diamond.

Leaving the final decision to Rafa, you each agree to not lobby him to pick in front of you, deciding to be surprised by the selection like everyone else will during the engagement party.

"—Oh, remember her ring size is six," you tell Rafa as the three of you wish him well and say your goodbyes.

"Thank you all! I really couldn't have done this without your help," he genuinely declares before going to the purchase counter to deliberate on which ring to choose.

As soon as you three are away from the shop and at the main thruway of the mall, Tayra mutters to Zoraida, "You know there's no way he's picking yours, right?! That was easily a 5-figure ring!"

"He said he's been saving up!" she defends, and you snicker drolly, so she needles, "Oh, so when Javier asks for our help to pick a ring, I should go with the most cheapy-choppy thing, eh?"

"Mine wasn't cheapy-choppy!" you counter, shoving her wryly by her shoulder. "I have a photographic memory, and that ring was almost exact to one of her favorites in her scrapbook."

"It just wasn't gaudy, like you like your jewelry, Zory," Tayra lobs and grins.

Scoffing with outrage while you purse your lips knowingly, Zoraida snipes, "My jewelry is not gaudy! It's just ritzier than you two like wearing, is all. As a matter of fact, Eleanor Roosevelt called, and she wants her ring back, Tayra!"

"Oh, whatever! It was a gorgeous vintage ring! That oval-cut diamond is timeless, and the braided band was something she's always liked as a design feature—" Tayra litigates to Zoraida, who plays aloof as she checks her manicure.

"It looked like the ring an old lady wore before The Great Depression," she zings dryly.

"Ok, I think we all have said our pieces. I guess we'll just see on Sunday, won't we?" you declare and gesture for a truce between the three of you.

All in agreement, you each exchange goodbyes in order to hurry back to your jobs, going your separate ways, with well wishes for the rest of your day and exclamations of, 'See you Sunday!'

You walk through the busy mall towards Sears, which is on the side of the building with the adjoining parking garage. As you go through the main level and head up the escalator to the third floor, you're unaware of the stares from some of the men in your vicinity as you stroll by – attention on getting through the lunchtime crowd so you can make it out to your car, which is parked on the top level of the garage.

Ugh, I gotta come back here before Friday with the girls, you're thinking to yourself, remembering you still need to get a pair of heels to go with the dress you're wearing for the gala. As you mentally itemize other errands and chores you needed to complete before the weekend, you're on autopilot while walking through the furniture showroom of the department store en route for the adjoining food court entrance.

It isn't until you've made it midway into the bustling space of diners milling around waiting in lines, grabbing tables, or meandering in the way, that a feeling prickles at the back of your neck.

Turning to look over your shoulder as you keep walking, you don't see anything out of the ordinary that could explain the weird feeling that you were being watched, so after almost bumping into a group of middle schoolers at lunch during their school field trip, you chastise yourself for not paying attention, and rush towards the outer exit.

You get to your car, and are about to get into the driver's side, but something makes you dutifully round the vehicle and check to make sure your tires look fine. Finding nothing out of the ordinary yet again, you scoff at yourself, get in the car, and pull out of the spot before cruising down to the ramp to exit the structure out to the street leading towards the avenue that will make your commute back to the Federal campus shorter.

While you're pulling into the security checkpoint's front gate, Javier is trying to rein his impatience in as he once again gets left on hold while trying to reach the FBI Agent in Charge, Bozzi, who has been indisposed most of the week so far.

"—Sorry for the wait, Agent Peña. We were unable to reach Agent Bozzi. Would you like to leave a message?" the man's admin politely explains when she returns on the line.

"I've been trying to get in contact with him almost every day this week already. Just tell him to call me back as soon as possible, please," he instructs curtly before ending the call. "Fucking prick," is his sharp grumble as he leans back in his desk chair.

"Who's a prick?" Steve asks as he walks into their shared office space with his refreshed mug of coffee.

Glaring over at him, Javi grouses, "How 'bout you call that Bozzi asshole and see why he's blocking the coordinated op, before I go over there and kick his door down."

"Oh, I'm not in charge of that, amigo," Steve acerbically rasps in that twang of his, shrugging innocently when Javi scoffs and scrubs his palm down his face in clear aggravation. "Plus, you don't want to signal to the guy that he's able to get under your skin, do yah?"

Huffing gruffly at Steve's point, Javi broodingly crosses his arms and concedes, "Of course I don't, but I don't have the patience to put up with this inter-agency standoff bullshit."

"You could go to Mercer about it?" Steve suggests, knowing by Javier's glower that is definitely not a serious prospect. "Or just go back to your days of running down informants, and roll up on the asshole?"

Grunting moodily, Javi considers it, then wonders out loud, "Think he'll be at the gala Friday?"

"Hah, you're willing to have a dustup with the dude there?" Steve asks, taking a quick sip of coffee, then presses further, "With Celina dressed to the nines, and practically all the Federal employees in attendance?"

Grunting sourly at the mental visual of him blowing his stack at Bozzi in the middle of the swanky event, with you standing by, horrified, Javi shakes his head and exhales, "No, that wouldn't be right."

"Well, I heard he's a gym rat. A lot of the federal agency guys use the training facilities at Fort Buchanan. It's supposed to have a state-of-the-art fitness center. Including a boxing ring," Steve mentions thoughtfully as he organizes his desk.

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it. While he considers the merits of dropping in on the FBI special agent without warning, you're in your office reviewing the progress reports on the upgrades your team has been undertaking.

After a few minutes of that, you sigh and set the reports aside so you can take a break and take another bite of your lunch. You pause just as a knock raps on your door, followed by Devon poking his head in. Waving him in since your mouth is full, you quickly dab your napkin over your lips while he apologizes.

"Sorry! I wanted to go over your calendar for the trip?"

"No worries! I had to run out during lunch so I've been multitasking eating and reading," you retort affably and put the lid of your lunch container on before grabbing for your planner. "We've been so busy lately, so thank you for being proactive and helping me plan this."

"No problem. So, I was able to coordinate the best dates the team lead there could have everyone be available for the conference in St. Thomas," Devon explains as he sits in front of your desk and reviews the itinerary he's worked on. "I think with everything coordinated right, you'd only need to be gone two, three days tops."

"Oh, excellent," you reply, relieved to not have to bother with making the arrangements this time around. "The last trip before the holidays had been such a hassle. I didn't plan the flights right and had a day layover."

"Luckily they've increased the flights now, so there are more options," Devon remarks before going into detail about the dates, tentative schedule for meetings, the conference, etc.

You're just in the middle of finalizing the last details when another knock on your door draws both your attentions to it as Ellis opens it and leans in to ask, "Interrupting anything?"

"We're just planning for that upgrade conference in St. Thomas," you retort and wave him in as you ask, "What's up?"

"Totally not important, but I'm going to be busy the rest of the week with some telecom stuff, so I wanted to ask if you knew the level of swank I need to dress for the gala Friday night?" your friend explains and asks as he sits in the available chair next to Devon.

"I swear, did no one read the email?" you joke, amused at Devon and Ellis exchanging puzzled looks, so you relent, "Ok, I don't think they did a good job spelling it out in the invite, but based on the location and who will be attending, it's cocktail attire."

"Soooo…" Ellis dramatically intones as he moves his hand in a beckoning gesture for you to elaborate.

"So, not business casual, and not black tie. Basically a nice suit. Nothing casual," you explain with a wry smirk when Devon nods and Ellis frowns. "Just let Anita dress you."

"Har-dee-har," he drawls comically before asking Devon, "You're a snappy dresser, so how fancy you planning on taking it?"

"Well, Noreen is wearing a cocktail dress, so I plan on wearing a dark suit and tie," the younger man answers, adding, "Oh, and a matching pocket square."

"See? That's perfect cocktail attire," you razz Ellis, who has always preferred being business casual.

"Alright, fine. I'll just have Anita get something for me," he defaults amiably as he looks at his watch. "Crap, I gotta head to my meeting. You and Anita were going to the mall still, right?"

"Yep. Connie, too. We're planning on meeting up Thursday at Plaza after work. Now go, before you're late!" is your quip.

As Ellis gets up and pats Devon on the shoulder in goodbye, he asks, "You and Javier are riding to the gala together? Or do you need a ride?"

"So far, we're driving together. I'll let you know if plans change," you retort coolly and wave him off as he exits your office.

Once you're both alone again, Devon scoots to the edge of his seat before asking, "I take it things are official?" At your curious expression, he clarifies, "Forgive me for asking, I meant about you and Agent Peña."

"Oh. Yes. We've, um, reconciled," you find yourself answering, before scoffing at your choice of words, then adding more confidently, "Yes, we're seeing each other again. He'll be my date to the gala."

"Good, I'm glad," Devon genuinely tells you, and at your brows raising in query, he confides, "There's just been chatter in the building the last few weeks. Mostly speculation—"

"Mind telling me some?" you interject, tone easygoing as you add, "It's when you're the subject of the gossip that it tends to rarely filter your way."

Cracking a lopsided smile, Devon nods and admits, "Well, everyone has heard some version of Colombia and what went down there; how your relationship was secret, but still managed to, um, get out. But for some time, since he first set up in the office here, really, people have been speculating that he only came down here to rekindle things."

"Oh?" you ask, intrigued, but not giving anything up.

"Yeah. I guess the gossip picked up from you both being seen walking together on the campus after lunch one day. And occasions when you've both driven out in the same car together for home?" he tells you as he idly toys with his work binder after sitting back more comfortably in the chair. "It's mostly been observational. No negative commentary or anything. At least none that I've heard."

You absorb that, then respond, "Thank you for telling me. In full transparency, we've put off disclosing the relationship officially to the chief, but plan to do so very soon. Since the guidelines aren't as restrictive as they'd been back at the embassy, it didn't seem like anything we needed to rush."

"Understood. And this stays between us," Devon replies earnestly.

You sense his genuine conviction on the matter, and give him a grateful smile, nodding your unspoken thanks.

"All right. Now, where were we with the planning?" you redirect back to the previous task seamlessly.

Unbeknownst to you, the gossip in the building about you and Javier had many layers, and most of them were filtered away from your staff, who politely kept any knowledge private and did not themselves partake in talking rumors. So, Devon nor anyone else would've been aware of the tawdrier chatter and speculation.

If not for the local junior officers who'd been tasked to work with the different federal agencies keeping their ears open and having fostered such goodwill with them overtime, Javier wouldn't know half of the chisme that was going around. All of his and Steve's agents had enough sense not to talk about it in the field office, or within earshot of the ASAC, Segarra, but he was always able to read the energy of others who thought they knew shit about him.

That being said, Javier was still getting used to having the blather about him involve you, and it ground his gears that anyone would dare gossip about you at all. Let alone because of him.

As he drove to your place at the end of the workday, he couldn't help brood over it, especially after spending so much time trying to pin down Bozzi, the culprit for the most recent bit of chatter he'd heard relayed to him by Wilmer that afternoon.

"—I was talking to a pana of mine who was assigned to the FBI office. Agent Bozzi was bragging about having chatted Miss Celina up recently, and how he couldn't wait to see how she'd look for that gala. Mentioned how at the last mingling event, she'd shown up in a sexy dress—"

Javier had done everything to keep his temper from flaring and his expression from betraying how incensed it made him, hearing about the man so flagrantly moon over you.

Steve had signaled for Wilmer to exnay any more detail from where he stood behind Javi, but ended up feigning aloofness when his co-SAC glanced quickly back to catch him, so while Steve patted Javi innocently in farewell, he remarked, "—Anyway, let me know how the cabinet meeting goes tomorrow. I'll be at the federal building for the rest of the week."

Huffing out through his nose, Javier drove his preferred shortcut from the highway to your condo building while idly wondering if that asshole Bozzi would be at the same cabinet meeting he and other agency heads would attend at the Fortaleza the next morning.

Forcing himself not to stew further about it, he pulls onto your street and cruises up to the gated driveway, lowers his window to punch in the security code, and proceeds to drive down to the guest parking spot. As he parks, he notices your car is in the designated spot you use, so he takes a deep inhale before letting the breath out – wanting to shed any of his surly temper before exiting his car and heading up to your floor.

After having decided to sneak out of work once you'd finally gotten through the progress reports, you'd gotten home to your place, stripped out of your chic pantsuit and pulled on a comfy house dress, and decided you were in the mood to decompress from the day. Fixing to start dinner early so you could spend the rest of the early evening relaxing and waiting up for Javi, you'd opened the balcony slider so the cool northern breeze could filter into the main living space while you cook.

You'd just finished with pressing the head of garlic on the cutting board when you hear the key slip into the lock just before the front door opens.

Javi comes in and seems surprised to see you already in the kitchen. You're in a slinky, pale pink house dress with a wide collar, and your hair is pulled up in a cute bun with a few whisps framing your face. A nice breeze fills the space and helps carry the scent of the garlic over to his nose, and the whimsy of coming home to something so comforting and familiar flutters in his gut.

With a soft smile, you can't help internally fawn at how adorable he looks in his slightly rumpled suit, big brown-eyed gape softening his features in that irresistible way that makes you gleeful.

"Hey, guapito," you greet in a flirty lilt as you start to remove the cloves of garlic from the head. "You're home early."

Feeling that funny tickle in the back of his breastbone radiate warmth through him, Javi closes the door and locks it behind himself before placing his keys on the side console and quickly heading around the kitchen counter to kiss you hello. His lips covetously press to yours, carried away by how wonderful it is to have you as his respite after the day he's had.

Looping his arms around your waist from behind, Javi's canela-smooth hum makes you smile as he drawls, "So are you." He peers over your shoulder while you continue to dutifully prep the garlic. "What, no more leftovers from the BBQ?" is his goofy deadpan as he affectionately nudges his temple against the side of your head.

"Nope. I had the last of it for lunch. So, I'm making a creamy garlic tortellini alfredo with chicken," you tell him and cheekily ignore how he presses up against you and hums for you to turn towards him for more kisses. "I was going to make a salad too—"

"I'd definitely go for tossing your salad," Javi mumbles brazenly as if to himself while kissing on the back of your neck.

"What was that, chulo?" is your feigned aloof query, continuing to not give into his foreplay.

"You don't have to bother fixing a salad," he answers with boldface charm, resting his chin on your shoulder to instigate you into giving him your full attention. "It looks like it's gonna rain," is his casual observation as he caresses your waist and nuzzles your neck, savoring how your soft, perfumed scent makes desire sear up in his gut. With a raspy hum, he croons, "You can smell it in the breeze coming through the balcony."

"Hmm, I still can't believe we left the balcony door completely open the other night," you snicker as you peel the last clove, deliberately leaning back into his frame and rubbing your tush against his crotch. "We're lucky there wasn't an overnight storm, or that birds and lizards didn't mosey on in—"

His hands possessively grip your hips to still your teasing as he scathes sarcastically, "It was you riling me up that caused that slipup, chingona. Just like you're trying to do right now."

Feeling heat zing excitement into your core, you hum a dubious sound before chiming, "I have no idea what you mean." At his unconvinced grunt and puckish nuzzle, you simper, "Go make yourself comfy. Just getting started on the prep for dinner—"

"Dame un beso, gatita coqueta, and I'll go," he purrs bossily in your ear, which makes goosebumps rise on your skin and that titillated ache simmer down into your tingling center.

Flirtatiously snickering, you turn your head up to meet his full, pouty lips with your own.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, twirling possessively with yours as he deepens the kiss and pulls a sexy sound from you.

Before the kiss becomes too passionate, Javi pulls back and leaves you leaning up for more before impishly pinching your waist and backpedaling to the hall whilst he rumbles, "As you were, miss."

Scoffing sassily, you scrunch your face up mockingly at him and shoo, "Go, atrevido."

Chuckling, he heads down to your bedroom to shed his blazer, belt and shoes. As he does so, he calls out, "I take it work was decent today, since you were able to leave early?" and goes to place his watch on the dresser before emptying out his pockets.

"Yeah. I spent most of the day reviewing progress reports and planning for my upcoming trip for the conference I told you about. The one in St. Thomas?" you reply as you chop the garlic before remembering to preheat the pot of water you have on the stove for the tortellini.

"I remember. That's a few weeks from now, right?" Javi calls out while he loosens the knot of his necktie and stares at your jewelry box, suddenly getting an idea.

As he leaves the tie hanging loose around his collar in order to stealthily lift the lid of the prettily decorated box, he glances to the doorway to make sure you're not coming in to catch him as you answer from the kitchen, "In a few weeks, yeah. I'm hoping to just be gone for a couple of days. Devon was helping me coordinate it all."

While you're answering, Javier is carefully sorting through the jewelry in the box, hoping to find inspiration for the kind and style of ring you like. He quickly realizes you don't seem to favor wearing rings, since he's only able to find an oval-stoned mood ring, and a silver Claddagh ring. He was staring at the latter, admiring the heart held between two hands, wondering what the significance of the crown on the heart was when the house phone started ringing in the living room.

"Want me to get that?" Javi asks as he rushes to replace everything in the jewelry box as it was.

Wiping your hands clean with a kitchen towel, you hurry around the counter to grab the phone from its charger on the console. "No, I'll get it," is your retort just before you press the button and answer, "Hello?"

"Hello, tesoro. I was expecting to leave yet another message on your answering machine," the deep bassy pitch of your father's voice greets you, and you have to stifle your eye roll as he asks, "How have you been? Did you get my last message?"

"Yes, I did. Sorry, it's been hectic lately. I've been all right. Today is the first time in a while I was able to get out of work before 5pm," you reply neutrally before asking, "How're things with you? Are you still in D.C.?"

As you listen to your father's answer, you turn at the sound of the water reaching boil, so you rush back to the kitchen and multitask. Javier pads barefoot down from the bedroom then, and you play up giving him a silly purse of your lips at seeing his now rolled up shirtsleeves and the ends of his red and gold tie swinging as he lopes by and gestures to the sideboard while mouthing, 'Want something to drink?'

Cupping your palm over the phone's microphone, you whisper, "Can we have wine?"

"Coming right up," Javier murmurs back, and the dashing smirk he sends your way before opening the cabinet to peruse the wine options is just infinitely sexy to you.

So much so, you're distracted when your father presses, "—Are you still there?"

"Y-Yes, sorry! I was distracted by something I have boiling on the stove. I'm glad all the meetings have gone well! Did they say when you would get an answer?"

"It depends on a few things. But I would imagine they'll make the decision by the Fall. Anyway, I won't keep you. Just wanted to check in," your father replies in his smooth, earnest tone. "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about last time?"

You pause in pouring the tortellini in the pot to answer, "I have. We can plan something when you get back. Does that work?"

"It does. I'm—I'm glad, tesoro. Thank you," he remarks in a tone that sounds oddly close to eager anticipation. Which, coming from your father? Takes you by surprise. "Look forward to spending more time together, mija. Love you."

"Love you too, Pá. Cuídate. Bye."

Once your father has said goodbye, you end the call and set the wireless receiver aside on the counter, just as Javi walks into the kitchen with the bottle of red wine he picked and places it down in order to retrieve the corkscrew from its drawer. He's covertly glancing at you from the corner of his eye as you swiftly dump the tortellini into the boiling water and resume the rest of the prep for the pan you're heating for the seasoned chicken breast.

"Everything good?" he asks, busying himself with opening the bottle of wine.

"Yeah," is your simple retort, engrossing yourself in tending to the chicken you're placing in the simmering hot pan.

As the fragrant aromas from the sizzling pan begin to fill the kitchen, Javi finds himself recalling how carefree and vivacious you'd been when talking to his father on the phone Sunday evening, so now seeing how guarded you were talking to your own father has him feeling disappointed that you were still feeling protective. That your defenses were up still in regards to anything involving the ominously intimidating man.

"I'm starting the sauce now. I have to stir it for a bit, so want to have a glass of wine while you wait?" you ask him, pulling him out of his thoughts just as he manages to pop the cork out of the bottle.

"Hmm, are you trying to get me nice and sauced up before dinner, preciosa?" is his playful croon as he retrieves a sturdy-yet-elegant stemmed glass and fills it with a healthy pour of wine before offering it to you.

It does the trick. You laugh and smile in that dazzling way that makes your eyes crest with mirth.

Taking the wine glass, you have a quick sip before licking your lips and purring, "Maybe?" then hand the glass back to him.

Chuckling, he takes a sip before sidling up to the opposite counter from the stove to ask, "Need any help? I can be your cooking assistant."

"Actually, yes! Can you get the milk and parmesan from the fridge?" you affably chime as you stir the tortellini in the pot.

Javi does so, and soon you're both working on the sauce together while you tell him the story of how you know so many Italian recipes.

"—Didn't have school, so to keep me occupied during the day, my mom let me help the nice lady we lived next to pick herbs or veggies from her garden in the courtyard. She showed me how to make pasta from scratch, and let me be her little sous chef. It was also a way for me to practice speaking Italian and for her to learn more English," you're remarking as you slowly mix in the tortellini with the sauce and chicken while Javi holds the tipped pot for you. "She taught me how to make the lasagna recipe too."

"You were making that at 8 years-old?" Javi balks as he sets the pot aside and marvels at you while you nod and sprinkle in some more herb seasoning whilst you stir everything together.

"Cooking was always fun, even when I was little. I liked it. Made me feel useful," you muse unguardedly before raising the stirring spoon to have a taste. "Mmm, here. Try it."

He lets you present the wooden spoon to his lips, and you watch as he sinfully eyes you with a molten look whilst he purses his lips to slurp the sample before flicking his tongue to lick the spoon suggestively.

You laugh and scathe, "Fucking fresco," before teasingly smearing the little bit of alfredo sauce left on the side of the spoon over his mustache so you can quickly lean up and lick it off.

It's so silly and sexy that Javi sputters a goofy grunt while the infectious smile that warms his handsome features unearths the boyish dimple in his cheek, which makes you girlishly fawn as you playfully shove him away from the stove and tease, "Bad sous chef! Quit seducing me—"

"Mira quien habla," he scoffs ruggedly and stands his ground to your impish nudges in order to take a sip from the wine glass before offering it to you as he asks, goadingly, "How much longer, jefa?"

Smiling around your sip, you swallow before musing, "Hmm, well it needs to rest for a bit, so let's cover the pan and give it a few, dulzón."

Snorting at that, Javi dutifully puts the lid on the pan and leads you by the hand out of the kitchen to the sofa, where you both sit.

Passing the wine back to him, you sidle up close and ask, "So, how was your day? I didn't expect you home until later."

Taking a deeper swallow than he'd intended, Javi grunts dryly before shifting in his seat to hand you the glass and stretch his arm out along the back of the couch cushion. "It was aggravating. Things feel like they're teetering close to the edge of going to shit, and I can't really place why the longer we work things, the less intel we actually have," is his venting remark, sounding more dispassionate than furious. At least until he absently scrubs his fingers broodingly along his chin as he grumbles, "And the inter-agency bullshit is grinding my patience to the bone."

Aside from the co-op being in limbo, Javier and Steve had daily briefings with the field agents on progress of leads, C.I.s, etc. Today's had addressed the frustrating lack of progress on tying financials to actionable targets, which meant he was going into the meeting the next morning with nothing fruitful to report. He hated it.

You can sense something else is bothering him, though, so you gently nudge your shoulder into him as you ask, "Anyone in particular that's tap-dancing on your last nerve?"

Huffing sourly out through his nose before he can help himself, Javi decides he doesn't want to downplay or obfuscate. "Yeah. That puto cabrón Bozzi. He's been impossible to get ahold of and is keeping a joint operation in limbo. And I can't help thinking it's deliberately just to piss me off. I got that meeting at La Fortaleza early in the morning, and I don't have much of anything to report since he keeps stonewalling DEA. Which, makes us look out of our depth," is his gruff explanation, dark chocolate eyes flaring as he glances sidelong at you while muttering, "And he's still talkin' shit about making moves on you."

Sitting up to fold your legs under you while you shift to look at him sassily, you redirect, "Funny, I heard that he's not the only one gossiping. Did you know speculation about our relationship is the topic of discussion through the federal building?"

Brow quirking intriguingly at that, Javi rumbles, "What have you heard? And who told you?"

Shrugging, you reply, "Devon, and he said it's mostly people chismeando on whether or not we're together. He said some are saying that you only accepted the DEA position here in order to rekindle things—"

"Which, is accurate," he interjects with a suave smirk that makes you chortle and give him an affectionate nudge. "What? I told you so."

"Yeah, well, while that's accurate, it's still not something I was really aware of until today – the gossip, I mean," you retort and take another sip from the glass before offering it to him. "So? What have you heard? And what is that sangano Bozzi saying now?"

Setting the wine glass aside on the end table moodily, Javi grumbles, "That he's chatted you up and is looking forward to mooning over you at the gala."

You internally roll your eyes, but seeing Javier scowl has you deciding you need to get him unwound. So, you curl into his side and glide your hand to caress the back of his neck, while the other hand coaxes him to look at you before you skim it down his jaw, to his sternum before slowly descending lower. Breath catching in his chest, Javi's eyes get heavy with want as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Sadly for him, all he'll manage is ending up watching you and I being together. How I'll be slinking up against you for kisses while we dance. The way your hands hold me while I run mine over you."

As you purr the sultry suggestions, your hand glides down to his waistband before lightly brushing along the seam of his fly before pausing.

"And, he'll have to stew, knowing I'm all yours, while watching us enjoy the night together, without giving him a single thought," is your smoky murmur as you finally cup him through his slacks.

With a groan, Javi nuzzles your neck and reacts to your touch by growling, "Oh fuck."

"Wanna hear the best part, galán?" you coax sensually as you fondle his rock-hard arousal through his clothes. Nodding vigorously, Javi grunts for you to continue, so you do. "The best part, is that he'll end up watching you take me home, and be left knowing that he never had a shot. And, that I'll be all yours when you get me naked and let me have you in all the salacious ways I want," is your scintillating whisper before you suckle on the erogenous spot on his neck before adding, "Like riding your cock as hard as I can—"

His hoarse whine makes your pussy clench. "Jesus fucking Christ, baby—"

It's then that you suddenly stop teasing him and swiftly scamper off of the sofa to prance towards the kitchen as you singsong, "Anyway! Enough about that. You ready to eat?"

The look on Javi's face is something you wish you could have a photo snapped of so you can enjoy it forever. It's a mixture of shock and awe, with a lot of surly hunger radiating from his smoldering stare as he incredulously eyes you as if your daring stunt was utter betrayal.

"…Get back over here, atrevida," is his rapacious, husky-pitched order, punctuated by him crooking his finger sternly for you to come back at once, or else.

It's just too good not to instigate him further.

"Oh? You're not hungry yet?" is your innocent chime, rocking on the balls of your heels as you fold your arms behind yourself, feigning naiveness. "If you wanna just lay back and unwind some more before dinner—"

"You wicked little tease. Get your naughty ass over here, right now, or you're gonna be in trouble," is his gravelly growl, brows quirking with the promise he's trying to relay while hiding his smirk behind the hand he scrubs across his upper lip.

"Hmmm? I don't know what you mean—" you trail off when Javi gets up from the couch and prowls around it like it's taking all his control not to just break out in a sprint to snatch you up in his arms and take you wherever he catches you.

Puckishly, he drawls, "Yeah, you do. And you're looking for trouble—"

Oh? Am I?" is your daring counter as you take a spritely step backwards further down the hall.

That wicked thrill begins to zing through him at your coquettish audacity, so he gravels in his silk baritone, "Damn right, and you know it. So, why don't you behave and come over here—"

Squinting your eyes challengingly, you take a step backwards before confidently turning on your heel to strut down towards your bedroom, announcing, "Nah. I'd like to see what kind of trouble you have in mind, tough guy."

Javi feels the exhilarated pulse of excitement shoot through him, so he follows and gains on you just as you've made it towards your dresser.

You glance at him in the reflection of the mirror as you let your hair down and shake it loose, and the instigating glint in your eye is pure mischief as he prowls over in order to press up behind you, boxing you in.

The deviant little quiver that curls heated arousal in your tummy before cloying into your core from how he keeps his eyes on yours in the reflection, coupled with the unpleased exhale he lets loose as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, has your breath stuttering.

"For starters? You're going to get naked, and walk your wicked ass to the bed and bend across it," he orders in a gruff murmur, the heat in his dark eyes matched by the feeling that sizzles through you when he moves his hands to grip your hips. "And if you backtalk me, I'm not going to fill your mouth or your pussy with anything. No matter how needy for it you are."

You shiver and bite your bottom lip when he latches his mouth to your pulse point on your neck and suckles possessively. His hands begin to rove your body, molding you to him as he greedily palms one breast while the other works teasingly down to slip up your dress. Trembling, you whimper softly and begin to glide your touch backwards to cling to him. But just when you melt into him, Javi pulls away and steps back, brawny hold receding and making you waver before turning on your heels to track him.

The lustful haze clears enough from your brain for you to realize he's going to withhold touch if you don't comply with his orders.

He enjoys how your eyes flicker with fiery outrage for the few seconds before you register it. That he's instigating you. His smirk threatens to peak the corners of his mouth and quirk his moustache with impish delight. It shouldn't turn you on so much. But it does, enough to make you unselfconscious about how hastily you pull your house dress off before unhooking your bra, shedding it swiftly, and tugging your panties off. And you're so wet with anticipation that you don't even blush when you obediently trot down to fold over the bed.

Javi is pleased, and shows it when he walks around to stand over you before looking back at your reflections in the dresser's mirror to lock eyes with you. Instead of undressing, he holds your avid stare as he caresses his hands up the backs of your thighs, fondling the swell of your ass to knead up its globes before humming and bending forward to plant a kiss to the small of your back. You make an impatient little sound, as if you're too worked up and needy for him. So, Javi shifts up and buffets his hand across your ass.

"Ah!" you gasp out and writhe, pussy throbbing hard from the spank and stealing your breath.

"Are you gonna behave, malvadita?" he husks ruggedly.

"Yes, mi amor," you airily affirm.

"Good girl. Now, stretch your arms above your head for me."

You slide your arms up without thinking about it – too wound up with desire to want to defy him, and you're rewarded with him pressing his hips into you while he gathers your wrists and holds them clasped together. The feeling of his silky tie caressing along your back before it swiftly is wound around your wrists makes you shiver against him.

"Tell me if this is too tight," he rumbles above your ear before finishing the fastening and giving it a tug.

You flex your wrists and feel how snuggly bound they are. "N-No. Not too tight—"

Javier working his ravenous mouth down the curve of your shoulderblade in a lazy path down your back has your voice cracking and a titillated mewl escaping your lips.

"Good," is his roughened croon before resuming his mouth's descent. He suckles kisses down the curve of your right buttock while he rushes to undress. His breath being ragged against your skin the only tell for how desperate he is to have his way with you.

Finally shedding his clothes, Javi ruts his cock along the cleft of your ass before thwacking it lewdly against the plump expanse of your left buttock. You stifle your moan into the bed, bound hands gripping the quilt as you involuntarily buck your ass up in hopes for more friction where you're pulsing for it. His warm skin skims across your back around to your front when he rolls you under him before getting between your thighs. He picks you up, and you loop your bound wrists over his head so you can cling to him as he balances you over his lap.

His cock ruts against your dripping folds, spreading them open as he stares into your flushed, titillated features. After leaning in to graze possessive kisses along your jaw, Javi husks in a velvet over steel purr into your ear, "For being my good girl, I'm going to fuck you until you come three times."

Javi is ever the man of his word.

He gives you the first time while pounding up into you as he holds you at your waist and plunges you onto him. When he tosses you onto the bed before flipping you onto your knees and drilling into your molten sheath from behind, you hit the second time while gripping the pillows and rocking back to meet his slamming thrusts.

"Mmph, that was good, preciosa," Javi gravels huskily into your neck, nudging his forehead affectionately against your shoulder before rearing back and spanking your right buttock and admiring how it jiggles while you mewl and tremble in the aftershocks of your climax. "Now, go ahead and get on your back for me."

Quivering with anticipation, you manage the feat of rolling onto your back and staring with needy reverence up at him, with your bound wrists over your head and your breasts perked up to his ravenous mouth as he leans over to kiss and suckle on them while his big hands hike your thighs apart to be held open.

The third time you reach bliss is when he's stroked dead-center into the nested bundle of pleasure deep inside you after fucking you into the bed – one hand holding you steady at the small of your back while the other fists the silky binding of the necktie cuffing your wrists together. It hits with such force that you wail his name and whimper when your sheath contracts hard around his throbbing flesh before you soak it with your climax.

He wants to keep his control from slipping, but at how you desperately try to clutch your fingers to his hand when you arch up and cry in ecstasy propels him over the edge, snapping his pleasure loose from the knot in his center and making him moan as his cock swells inside you before his release fills you with his hot seed.

You feeling deliriously complete when the bloom of his climax diffuses warmth through your sinew has you sighing a sweet, albeit exhausted little sound as Javi lies on top of you in a spent heap before mustering the effort to roll off and lie next to you on the bed.

The mind-blowing orgasm has you both buzzing – breathing hard and cooling down as you lie in post-coital bliss.

"Holy fuck," he exhales with raspy delight, smile crooked as he lulls his head over to look at you. Your sweaty and flushed features have a content glow as you lie in post-coital repose with your eyes closed. Your lashes are glossy, and your hair is a mess now, so he sidles close and gently brushes the strands that had clung to your dewy skin away from your face before rumbling, "Mírame, hermosa."

Lazily batting your lashes, your eyes muster a heavy-lidded peer before you try to rub your hand over them and remember your wrists are still tied together. Javi snickers and sits up enough to be able to quickly undo the necktie, unweaving the silky material in a swift unraveling motion that frees you before tossing it to the side and guiding your hands to loop around his neck so he could lean in and capture your lips in a sultry, loving kiss. He only breaks it in order to caress your cheek and catalogue your expression.

"Was that ok?"

His soft mumble makes you grin and cling to him affectionately. "That was really hot, babe. I'm still shaking," is your frank praise, eyes twinkling at him when you rub your nose against his, earning a relieved little snicker from him. "I very much enjoyed your kind of trouble, sir," you lilt saucily, and at his cocky hum, you add brightly, "Especially your bossy way about it."

The warm, raspy quality of his laugh makes you melt as he playfully rolls onto his back and takes you with him. Smugly, he starts to drawl, "Hmm, shit. I just remembered – whatever happened with all those toys? They would've come in useful—"

You playfully pinching his side makes him grunt humorously. "They're in a box up on the closet shelf, beyaquito," is your sassy simpering retort, sitting up to lounge against him while running your fingers through the damp curls clinging to his sweaty forehead as you add matter-of-factly, "I'd almost put the feather and vibrating cock ring into the box with your stuff I'd packed up and sent to Laredo," at Javi's brows shooting up comically, you chuckle, "But thought better of it."

"Jesus Christ. That would've made for a mortifying chat with Pops," Javi grimaces goofily while squeezing you in his arms mischievously, earning peels of laughter to giggle up from you.

A nice relaxing shower together later, you're spiritedly ribbing him about the topic from earlier – before you'd instigated his surly dominance game, as you exit the stall and grab a towel before tossing it to him.

"—C'mon. You can't blame me for being pissed about that," he grumbles sarcastically as he quickly runs the towel over himself, and wraps the fluffy material around his waist.

"You getting all grumpy over that cocky jerk like I would ever give him the time of day is just silly, Javi," is your rebuttal as you finish towel drying your hair before tucking it around yourself to tiptoe over to him when he rolls his eyes and slicks his wet curls back from his forehead. "Hey, guapito, don't get grouchy. You know I'm right," you tut in a flirty-yet-bossy drawl at him as you caress his stubble-darkened jaw and bat your lashes.

He huffs contrarily out through his nose, but his stubborn scowl relents when you hum in a goofy way that communicates, 'I'm right and you better recognize it!'

The sudden sound of rain starting to pitter patter outside before quickly becoming a deluge begins to filter through the apartment as an early evening storm cloud rolls in.

"Told you it looked like rain," Javi remarks before realizing, "Damn, the slider door!"

He quickly sidesteps around you and rushes to dutifully shut the balcony door that got left open.

"Javi, don't worry about it," you turn the corner to watch him hustle down the hall with a tight grip on the towel knotted at his hip, his pace mindful of the tile so he doesn't slip and bust his ass by accident. The way he's striding with a waddle reminds you of the way a little duckling would run at full speed. It makes you giggle and follow him so you can stand at the end of the hall and watch him pull the sliding glass door shut before locking it and yanking the vertical blinds back into place.

Seeing the muscles in his smooth, broad, tan back work with his movements beguiles you into staring. Into admiring his warm skin and lean sinew front-lit momentarily by the swaying blinds letting the waning sunset seep through. You can't help pining, What a gorgeous hunk.

"Hey, stud muffin," you call out to him, and when he turns, you wink at him and charm, "Dinner in bed?"

More than fine with that, Javi smirks and walks over to join you in the kitchen. "Sounds good to me, bravita."

A short while later, you and Javier sit up together in bed, eating dinner together. He's in a loose pair of blue boxers while you're in a champagne-toned silk nighty. The stormy breeze coming through the windows keep the room cool as you eat and chat.

"—Ok, I have to admit. I kind of got spoiled at your place. Got way too used to eating and watching TV in bed," you chime amusedly, sipping some wine before passing the glass to him.

He takes a big gulp before setting it aside, grunting in agreement with you. "Yeah, me too," is his retort, licking his lips before he wonders out loud, "Maybe I can get one of those little television sets, and it can go on the side of the dresser?"

You smile around your current bite. Once you've swallowed, you remark, "You don't have to, babe—"

"Or, maybe we can get a place together," he smoothly suggests before finishing the last helping of food on his plate. At you blinking surprisedly at him, he shrugs nonchalantly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to elaborate, "I mean, your place is far from work, and mine is close to it, but doesn't have much around it like you do here. Maybe we can find something that meets in the middle?"

Your heart does a summersault in your chest as you absorb that. "Your place isn't bad. Sure, it's a bit of a bachelor pad, but the gated neighborhood is nice and quiet," you find yourself remarking as you balance your plate of food on your folded lap before realizing that posture makes your lower back ache, so you shift to set the plate aside on the nightstand so you can lounge sidelong as you remark, "But I extended the lease here a couple of months ago, so I'm not sure about breaking it and moving—"

Javi sets his plate aside on the foot of the bed and stretches out to sidle close to you in order to caress his warm palm calmingly along your hip and thigh as he assures, "I didn't mean right now, querida. Just that maybe we could start looking. I like shacking up with you here, so I'm in no rush."

Snickering, you squeeze his forearm affectionately. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's like we're in our own world when we're here," is his charming purr as he leans over to kiss your shoulder before murmuring, "It's not nearly as far as your old place in Bogotá, and we're close to Old San Juan and the beach…and plenty of spots to go explore and get lost in, in between."

Feeling a tickle behind your breastbone, you let him loop his arm around your waist to tug you closer so he can reach your lips, and when you pivot your position, you end up wincing from the ache in your lower back. You bite back on it during the kiss, but Javi caught it and shifts back.

"Sorry. I think I tweaked something from romping around earlier," is your self-deprecating huff as you lie on your tummy and nuzzle his bicep.

Smirking, he sits up in order to move over so he can pat the center of the bed as he orders, "Alright, lay here and I'll give you a rub down, señorita."

Laughing, you try insisting, "You don't have to—"

"Well, I want to, now c'mon, traviesa," he counters in that canela-purr of his and pats the center of the bed with emphasis as he bounces his brows and purses his lips for you to go on.

Relenting, you shimmy over and lie on your stomach, smiling when he straddles your thighs and starts massaging his hands from the base of your spine upwards.

As you start to feel the ache ease up in your lower back, you sigh out dreamily, "Mmm, that feels nice. Thank you."

You feel his full lips press softly at your nape before he mumbles, "You're welcome. Gotta keep my good girl limber, after all."

You scoff amusedly at that before reaching your hand backwards to swat his side lightheartedly. "Oh yeah? Well if that's the case, burlón, I'll just have to take back up going to yoga classes. As a matter of fact, I'll just go to the 6:30 class tomorrow night," you heckle humorously as you roll over under him and goadingly pat your hands over his thighs. At his instigating grunt after he rests his palms over yours to stop them from sliding up further to tease him, you chime, "Wanna come with?"

Snorting, Javier deadpans, "Me, doing yoga? I'm already limber enough—"

"Oh, if you're too macho to do it, then never mind," you taunt melodiously, adding, "I guess I'll just stretch out in my leggings and halter top by myself…"

Smirking ruefully, Javi relents, "Hmph. Fine, I'll go, but I'm going to be way behind the rest of the class—"

"Actually, the night classes tend to be more intro/beginner-level friendly," you interject and squeeze his thighs cheekily. "You don't have to go if you really don't want to, chulito—"

"Oh no, you're not talking me out of it now. I wanna go, and I wanna see all the positions you can do, and what positions we can use in bed after," he tells you debonairly before winking at you smugly.

Humming approvingly, you blithely singsong, "That sounds like a wonderful plan, sir."

Chuckling, he leans down and starts showering you with merciless, mustachioed kisses along your neck and jaw, earning your effervescent laugh that trails off into the discordant little sigh he adores.

The next morning, you stir awake at the sound of Javi getting dressed, and roll over to watch him put on a blue jacquard-patterned tie before be grabs the slate-gray blazer from the chair and shrugs into it. When you shift up in bed and rub your eyes, Javi turns and frowns. "Shit, I didn't mean to wake you," is his mutter as he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. "It's still early. Go back to sleep, cariño—"

You shake your head and shuffle closer to kiss his cheek. "I will, after you give me a hug and promise not to bail on yoga tonight," is your soft mumble as you smile sleepily at him.

Grunting humorously, he nods and wraps his arms around you. With a kiss to your temple, he declares, "I'm not bailing. Meet up here and go together? I should be home by 6pm."

"That works. I'll be home from shopping with the girls by then, and we can go," you answer sweetly and peck him on the lips. "Good luck on the meeting."

"Thanks. Now," Javi remarks as he guides you to lie back and tucks you in before kissing you on the forehead. "Get a few more winks. I'll see you later."

"Love you," you sigh softly as you hold onto his hand.

Giving it a loving squeeze before brushing your hair back behind your ear, he murmurs, "I love you too."

You smile and close your eyes, beyond relaxed. So much so, you barely hear him get his shoes on and head out to the living room, where he pockets his things before exiting the front door and locking up behind himself.

Twenty minutes later, Javier is driving into Old San Juan, navigating through the circuitous traffic in the tightly-lined streets of the islet to get to the security gate of the Governor's mansion. Once he's parked, he clips on his identification badge and exists his car to meet up with the aide that receives him and leads him up to the cabinet meeting. On the way, he trades polite conversation with the young man as they traverse the grounds and enter the main edifice where the government meetings occur. After leading the way to the wing with the conference room today's meeting would be taking place, the aide excuses himself and leaves Javi, who checks his watch while already reaching into his pocket for his packet of nicotine gum.

"You're early, Jav."

He turns and spots Tom Vernon, head of ATF, as he leans against the nearest column and sips from a small paper coffee cup.

"Mornin' to you too, Tom," is his neutral reply as he pops a gum out of the tray and tosses it into his mouth, giving it a few chews before asking, "Where'd you get the coffee?"

"Oh, friendly little lady came by with a coffee cart earlier. Good stuff," the man in the brown suit and mismatched yellow tie replies before taking another sip.

Grunting, Javi crosses his arms over his chest to keep his right hand from ticking impatiently due to his mounting anxiety about the meeting. "Speaking of friendly. You're buddies with Bozzi, right?" When Vernon shrugs noncommittally, Javi presses, "Happen to know if he's going to show up for the meeting today? I need to talk to him."

"You never know with Tony. What you gotta talk to him about?" is Vernon's aloof query.

Trying not to scowl, Javi ticks his jaw askew to toy the gum to his opposite cheek before resuming chewing. "A joint op. My ASAC got word from Bozzi's guy that he denied a coordinated operation request. I haven't been able to get ahold of him all week," Javi lays his proverbial cards out on the table with the seasoned ATF agent, eyeing him guilelessly as he adds, "Kind of starting to think he's deliberately pushing my buttons."

That gets Vernon's aloof expression to perk up with interest. "Well, I can't say I know his motives on that, but he definitely has the most leeway down here among all us agency heads. The locals don't like to fuck with the FBI," is Tom's observant remark, lowering his voice when he cusses and giving a cursory glance about before adding, "Tony has a few irons in the fire, from what I've heard, so I'd just assume he's prioritizing those operations and his job over anything you DEA fellas are looking to execute."

Unconvinced, Javier puts his hands on his hips and stares at Tom like he knows a bullshitter when he sees one. "I have it on a reliable source that his job isn't the only thing he's prioritizing these days," he remarks persuasively, communicating the unspoken part with his narrowed gaze.

Squinting knowingly, Vernon mutters irreverently, "I'm not one to get between two circling bulls, so I'll just say: He has been working that prospect since before you showed up."

His shoulders square up at the veiled reference. "Most know by now that prospect was in my purview from before. Hell, I heard you even told him said prospect was already spoken for," is his leading comment, placing his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he raises a brow questioningly at the other man.

Cracking a lopsided smirk, Tom concedes, "I sure did. He's a hard-headed fella, so it didn't dissuade him one bit, but you might need to let it play out to its own natural conclusion, Jav. I bet it'll work itself out—"

The nearby conference room door opens, interrupting Vernon. A female aide smiles brightly before holding the door open and greeting, "Good morning, gentlemen. Please, come in and find a seat. We'll be starting the meeting soon."

Exchanging a look, the two agents return the greeting and lope over to enter the room.

Checking his watch before he dumps his spent gum into a nearby wastebasket, Javi sees there's only a few minutes remain until the start of the meeting. Aides and their officials start to file in, so he goes around the room to shake hands and look professional and have face time with key cabinet members. After exchanging greetings with some of the local government officials, he ends up taking a seat across from the ATF agent, who is shaking hands with a cabinet member just as a younger agent with an FBI-labeled ID badge clipped to his suit breast pocket enters. Once officials begin to file in, he is aggravated when the governor enters with his aides, and the Special Agent in Charge of the FBI still hasn't arrived. Fucker isn't going to show.

Sure enough, when the meeting progresses to the stage where each federal government agency head is supposed to take turns giving a progress report, the representative for the FBI update ends up being dictated by the Assistant Special Agent in Charge, who apologized for his superior's absence.

Javier's annoyance helped sharpen his confident resolve when it came time for him to give the DEA progress report. But by the end of the meeting, he's was stewing. So much so, he makes a beeline to the FBI rep the minute the governor exited.

"Castellano, is it? Javier Peña," is his battering ram of a greeting, forcefully shaking the other man's hand and not giving him a chance to even return the gesture by barreling on with, "Segarra told me your boss denied the joint operation request. I've had a hell of a time trying to get ahold of him for a rationale, so since he ain't here, can you give me one?"

The other man has a lot more steel to him than his ASAC, unfortunately, so he keeps his cool and explains, "Agent Peña, my boss has been overseeing an operation I cannot disclose at the moment, but I assure you, I will brief him on your follow-up regarding the co-op request. Have a nice day."

Clenching his jaw, Javi absently scrubs his palm down his face before turning back to glare at the retreating man's back.

"Valiant effort, Jav," is Tom's amused drawl as he comes up to stand next to him. "That fella is ex-Marine. He ain't going to be mad-dogged easily—"

"You going to the gala tomorrow night, Tom?" Javier cuts in with a dry, acerbic tone as he loosens the knot in his tie and brushes his fingers over his moustache, hand concealing how his nostrils are flaring crossly.

Pressing his lips together musingly, Vernon replies, "Naw. I got a bureau conference back in D.C. I'm flying out for at noon." At Javier's grunt of acknowledgement, he leans close and confides, "I assume you'll be taking that gorgeous prospect of yours, though, so it'll be a shame to miss watching the novela play out. Good luck, Jav."

He pats Javier on the back before loping off and waving over his shoulder at him.

Exhaling gruffly, Javi heads for the exit and stalks to his car, beyond irritated.

While he drives out of the secure compound to traverse the morning rush hour traffic, you're putting on a pot of coffee before arranging items into order on the breakroom counter in your department. The extra sleep time had you feeling refreshed and ready for the full day, looking forward to leaving the office to meet Connie and Anita at the mall to find outfits for tomorrow night's gala.

Having run into your neighbor, Jodalys, in the lobby on the way to your car, you chatted about the gala excitedly, and accepted her invite to get ready together before the event. The prospect of not having to do your own makeup was too good to pass up, and so you coordinated a time and exchanged goodbyes before commuting to the office and getting a jump on the workday.

You'd already gotten through your messages, including your personal email inbox and been pleasantly surprised to see a message from Francesca. Having caught up with your former intern and agreed to write her a letter of reference for grad school, you'd made sure to block out your late afternoon of any meetings.

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you make mental notes for yourself regarding what you needed to pick up at the mall later, when you hear Olga's heels clicking along as she enters the breakroom.

"Ah, you beat me to it!" she declares, referring to you making a pot of coffee.

"Yeah, I needed the caffeine boost," you quip as you stir the sugar with the skinny little straw while scooting to the side to give her access to the counter. "Oh, did you get around to blocking off the department calendar for tomorrow afternoon? I want everyone who plans to attend the gala to be able to without any late day meetings tripping them up."

"All set! A lot of the other admins throughout the building have been doing that. Everyone's looking forward to it," Olga replies as she pours some cream into her coffee. "It's rare when an event that glitzy is open to clerical and office staff."

"Well, I'm glad they planned it to be inclusive. Should be interesting to see all the different offices and departments mingling," you remark before taking a sip of your coffee.

While she stirs some sugar into hers, Olga's expression perks up as she asks in a hushed tone, "Do you think even the different agents will attend? I mean, from like the federal agencies?"

Intrigued, you quirkily smile and lean your weight into your hip as you ask, "I'm not sure. My guess is it'll depend on their shifts? Usually, field agents alternate being on stand-by, or have to be on call during certain operations. Why?"

You expect this to finally be the moment Olga, who you know to be congenial and a well-meaningly-nosy social butterfly, will ask you about the rumors involving you and Javi.

Instead, she confides, "Ah pues, nothing really…I just was wondering if the handsome agent de la DEA would go. I've not had a social occasion that would make sense to have more than 'hi' and 'bye' with him. And I'm hoping to get a chance to talk more."

Surprised, your brows arch and you whisper interestedly, "Really?! Which agent?"

Getting smiley, Olga busily stirs the little straw in her coffee cup as she answers sincerely, "Nicolás López. Es tan lindo, y buena gente. Su sonrisa me encanta. We've only ever done quick greetings from seeing each other around on the campus. One of the other admins who works in the DEA office told me his name."

Tickled with delight, you gush, "Oh, Nic is a sweetheart. I'm not sure he'll be there, but if he is, I'll introduce you both!"

As she excitedly peppers you with questions about the scrappy-yet-handsome agent, Javier is stalking across the bullpen within the field office, still annoyed from earlier and wondering if he's going to have to personally kick Bozzi's door in after all. As he rounds the corner towards his and Steve's shared office space, Segarra pokes his head out from the doorless room he's made into his office and rushes over to greet him halfway, with a legal pad in hand.

In no mood, Javi doesn't slow down his pace, but does acknowledge the younger man with a curt nod and tries not to project his aggravation when Segarra falls into step beside him. "Good morning, sir. I was just about to call you. I finally heard back from my counterpart at FBI. Our co-op request was approved—"

That has Javi skidding to a halt right inside his office before he swiftly gestures for Segarra to come in and close the door. Once the ambitious man has done so, and Javi's braced himself by leaning into the edge of his desk with his hands propped on either side so he can keep his fingers from fidgeting impatiently, he deadpans, "Castellano confirmed it just now?"

"Yes, sir. He said Agent Bozzi signed off," Segarra replies in his raspy tenor, holding up his legal pad as he dictates the details. "However he insisted on running an op drill with our guys and theirs, and booked the facility in Aguadilla for tomorrow at 1500—"

"What? For 3:00pm tomorrow?" Javi interrupts, crossing his arms and cocking a curious brow. "Why so late in the day?"

"It's the time that works best for Agent Bozzi, sir," Segarra explains as he flips to the next page and lists off more of the coordinated details while Javi scowls and listens.

After confirming a few things with his ASAC, going over other outstanding agency business, and signing off on some reports, Javi grabs his desk phone and dials Steve's line at the Federal building.

"Agent Murphy."

"Guess who magically agreed to the co-opt, and scheduled an op drill for tomorrow afternoon," Javi grouses as he plops down into his desk chair.

Steve grunts wryly. "Sounds like you pushed the right buttons successfully this morning at the meeting, then."

Scoffing as if unconvinced, Javi leans into his chair and mutters, "Segarra is going to pull the guys together and brief them. It's gonna be at a base about an hour away, on the northwest coast."

"So what you're saying is, you're currently free to come to the barbershop during lunch with Rose and me to get haircuts for tomorrow night?" Steve quips.

Running his fingers through his unruly curls along his crown and down the back of his head, Javi glowers as he admits, "Shit, I have been due for a trim. Just haven't had the time."

"Well, Ellis vouched for a place in Hato Rey. Meet us downstairs in 20 minutes?"

"Sure. See you then," Javi agrees before hanging up and glancing at his watch. Deciding you were most likely too busy for him to call and check in, he collects his things and heads down to the parking garage.

By the time he pulls up to the carport in front of the federal building, Steve and Ellis are coming out of the building, so Javi flags them down and gestures for them to just hop into his car. Steve gets into the front passenger seat and Ellis sits behind him in the backseat as they exchange greetings with Javi before snapping their seatbelts on.

"—Take a right outside of the gate," Ellis instructs, playing navigator for a few blocks before Javi is cruising down the busy avenue en route towards the financial district of the metropolitan area. "I know a lot where we can park for free, so take a left at the next boulevard. Anyway, how long were you saying you got the babysitter for tomorrow night?" he pivots back to the idle conversation, directing the question to Steve.

"Only until 10pm. Connie works with the girl's mom at the V.A. and the lady's pretty strict, so she doesn't like her out until late, even on a weekend. So we'll have to head home by 9:30, at the latest," Steve answers while he fiddles with the car radio.

Smacking Steve's hand from continuing to skip the dial across channels, Javi hits the preset button for the radio station he saved after seeing it was your go-to channel in your car. Magic 97.3 is in the middle of playing a Prince single he knows you love, so he smirks as he remarks offhandedly, "Can't you get another sitter? Or bribe the kid to stay late?"

"Remind me not to let my girls babysit for you in the future," Steve razzes dryly to him and glances at Ellis in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "That's the one thing I miss about Miami. Connie's sister lived nearby, and was always great with babysitting them for us. Ah, that reminds me. Did I tell you I'm planning to take Connie away for her birthday weekend?" he asks and taps Javi on the arm with the back of his hand, getting his attention from where he was distractedly looking around for an empty space in the lot Ellis had pointed him to while Steve had been talking. "I'm flying her sister down and surprising her with the trip. She'd only trust family to stay with the kids that long. But keep it secret—"

"Secret even from the wives?" Ellis cuts in, being terrible at keeping secrets and wanting to make sure he knew how secretive he needed to be.

"Careful. Don't wanna give Jav a heart attack here, throwing that around so cavalierly—" Steve begins to jibe.

"You are a relentless pain in the ass, you know that?" Javi derides acerbically as he zooms into the parking spot tucked around the bend before the car across from him could beat him to it. "I told you, I'm working on it—"

"You are going at a molasses pace, bud, is all I'm sayin'. Especially with the other suitors swaggerin' about," Steve heckles, earning an eye roll from Javi and for Ellis to do the male version of perking up his ears for gossip.

Javi catches himself and stows his tempestuous jealousy with a gruff exhale before he could lose his cool. Putting on his favorite sunglasses, he shuts the engine and clarifies, "That's a singular suitor, who is a wannabe suitor, and a stupid prick. Now, you two hillbillies get out of the car."

"If you're going to insult me, at least be correct with your insults. I'm a redneck, not a hillbilly, cabrón," Ellis sarcastically derides as he snaps his seatbelt off and exits the vehicle.

"He's got you there, pendejo," Steve jokes as he opens his door and hops out.

Snorting, Javi follows suit and locks the car before falling into step with the two gringos.

"When are you two gonna learn more than Spanish swear words, pray tell?" he hazes, earning huffy excuses from the two men as they head into the barbershop.

By the end of the workday, you're on the way out of the federal campus to meet the girls at the mall, eager to get what you all need so you can rush home and get ready to go do the class with Javi. Mercifully traffic is cooperative and you're able to find a space close to the main general entry point of the sprawling building with enough time to stride towards the JCPenney entrance. The shopping center was bustling, but not overcrowded, so you're able to stride at a brisk pace, making it through the concourse to the large department store's entry and spotting Connie sitting on a nearby bench and sorting through her purse.

"Hey! Have you been waiting long?" you greet as you lean down to kiss her hello on the cheek.

"Not at all! I got here a few minutes ago. I had cut out a page from the store catalogue this month, and I thought I had put it in my purse, but can't find it," she tells you as she gives up on the search and stands when she spots Anita and waves her over.

"Hi! Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find a parking spot," Anita greets and explains as she exchanges hello hugs and kisses on the cheek with you both.

You spend the next hour scouring the store for elegant cocktail dress options with the girls, helping Anita decide between the burgundy A-line dress and the emerald wrap dress, spotting a dress that resembles the description of the one Connie had seen in the catalogue and proceeding to coax her into getting it even though it was sexier than she'd expected on her.

"—I don't know. Isn't it too low cut in the front?" she frets as she continues to hold it up in front of herself in the nearby mirror while Anita peruses a clothing rack.

"Totally, but it's tasteful, I swear," you tease her, and she snickers and shakes her blonde hair out at your silly tone. "Mine is way riskier – lower cut, and short, but I'm still wearing it, so c'mon, don't leave me as the only one pushing the sexy envelope."

Connie laughs, "Alright, fine. And it is on sale, so—"

"So try it on tonight in front of Steve and see if his eyes bug out or not. If they do, definitely wear it to the gala," Anita quips with impish charm, purse swinging merrily at her side while she holds her dress folded over her forearm as she wiggles her brows cheekily.

After shopping a bit more through the department store, you manage to also find a set of workout clothes for Javier in the Men's section while Anita picks up a pocket square and necktie for Ellis. Once you've all made your purchases at the customer service counter, the girls accompany you to the shoe boutique you like a few minutes later, and help you decide between the chic black pumps and the strappy stilettos. "—I like them both, but these are more for clubbing," you finally decide as you sit back down and remove each from your feet while telling the store clerk that you'd be taking the pumps.

"Oh, are you wearing pantyhose, or stockings?" Anita asks as she admires a pair of gold sandals.

"No, going bare-legged. I hate wearing pantyhose," you retort as you go to the register to pay for the purchase. "Did you guys want to stop by anywhere else before we go?"

"No, I have to rush to the mercado before I head home," Anita replies and collects her shopping bag from the couch.

"Steve's probably getting home now, so I gotta get there before Olivia convinces him to have waffles for dinner again," Connie comically sighs as she shoulders her purse and balances her store bag from one hand to the other while you all chuckle at the idea of little Olivia cajoling her pushover of a dad.

After you all say goodbye in the central promenade of the mall, you part ways in different directions, and you hustle to your car to navigate your way home through the evening traffic.

You're completely unaware that you're being watched as you place your shopping bag in your backseat before getting in on the driver's side.

No, you're so preoccupied with thinking of the gala tomorrow, and how much you're looking forward to having your first very public night out with Javier – where everyone in your professional lives will see for themselves that you both are together and much in love, that you don't sense the stare from afar.

By the time you make it home, you're rushing to get upstairs and get ready for the class, so you don't bother with stopping at your mailbox before heading up to your apartment, and are barely through the door before you toss your things onto the bar top counter and shut the door while reaching to hit the button the answering machine when you see the red light blinking that you had messages.

While the machine begins to recite the date and time of the first message, you run down the hall to your bedroom as you strip your blouse off and work the zipper down on your skirt.

"Good afternoon. This is Dr. Salinas checking in to see how you're feeling, and to see when you'd like to schedule your next physical. Give the office a call if there's anything you'd like to discuss. Thank you, goodbye."

You grunt thoughtfully at that, making a mental note to call the office in the morning, while you chuck your work outfit into the hamper and grab for the yoga leggings and top you set out this morning. The machine dictates the receipt date and time of the next voicemail before the sound of dead air echoes from the living room before the caller hangs up without leaving a message.

Pausing at the dresser quizzically, you feel a sense of déjà vu come over you before continuing to brush your hair up into a neat bun. That's like, the third time someone calls and doesn't leave a voicemail—

The sound of a key being slipped into the front door's lock sounds before it opens and you hear Javi's dress shoed steps enter over the final drone of the answering machine announcing the end of messages.

"I'm home," he calls out before the jangle of his keys clatter on the counter and his footfalls approach the hall.

"Perfect timing!" you exclaim when you glance at the alarm clock and see he was true to his word, smiling as you put on the stretchy headband to keep your hair slick back and out of your face. "I just got home a couple of minutes ago—" you're saying as you turn towards him when he enters the bedroom, before gasping. "Aw, you cut your hair?"

Javi experimentally runs his hand over his trimmed hair, tossing his gym bag to the corner by the chair. His brows are knitting together ambivalently as he frowns and asks, "Yeah, does it look bad?"

Internally swooning, your mind flashes to how he'd looked the first time you saw him back in Bogotá – when he'd returned to be the DEA attaché. How dashing he looked with his trimmed, and suavely-combed hair. His hair now is not much shorter than it'd been then. Truly, he looks deliciously debonair, but his expectant look communicates otherwise, so you stride towards him and loop your hands around his shoulders as you get on your tippy toes to kiss him reassuringly before extolling, "You always look handsome, you dork. I'm just gonna miss playing with your rizos, is all."

Scoffing, he smirks down at you before squeezing you affectionately to him and kissing you cheekily as he grouses with daring, "I got something else you can play with—"

Humorously swatting his rump, you giggle, "Beyako. Naughty talk later. Hurry up and get dressed," and pull him towards the bed where you placed the shopping bag, digging into it and pulling out the soft shirt and comfortable joggers you bought him. "I wasn't sure you'd have anything to wear for yoga, so I got these."

"Thanks, querida," he croons and kisses your cheek before starting to undo his tie and unbutton his collar while he leers appreciatively down at your formfitting workout ensemble. The halter top-styled purple and black sports bra has your cleavage looking delectably snug, while the skin-hugging black yoga leggings made your ass look round and plump – begging to be caressed greedily by his hands. "Mmm, I was envisioning you in a leotard and leg warmers, but this is much hotter."

Snickering as you brush by him to retrieve your sneakers from the closet, you muse flirtatiously, "I figured you'd approve of it since you'd be my yoga buddy. Now, hurry it up, mister."

With a twinkle in his eye, Javi chuckles before he quickly strips and gets ready.

Soon you're driving to the building that houses the workout studios, and lead the way up to the floor where the evening class is scheduled. Storing your gym bags in the cubbies along the sidewall of the studio, you're chatting with Javier about the little rituals most yoga teachers use to start and progress the session while he looks around and catalogues the large room and the other attendees whilst you both remove your sneakers and socks to be placed in the shelves.

"Well, mira quien es!"

Pausing to turn, you're surprised to see Zoraida standing smug and statuesque in her workout outfit and her pink yoga mat rolled up and tucked in her arm.

"Ah! What're you doing here?! You don't normally do the night class—" you remark as you two exchange a hug and kiss on the cheek hello.

"I don't, but I've had day shoots and gigs all week, and this is the only time I could get in a workout before the weekend," she explains before bouncing her brows knowingly at you and gesturing towards Javi with a nod of her head. "And I take it this is your jevo, Javi?"

Feeling a wave of pride fill him, Javier steps forward to greet your friend with a handshake and kiss to the cheek. "Mucho gusto. It's great to finally meet you. I've heard great things—"

"And I've heard lots of things about you," Zoraida cuts in glibly as she sizes Javi up the way a discerning poker player would. "Like how overprotective you are of my dear friend, so what – are you here to take the class too, or just to keep an eye on her—?"

"Zory!" you admonishingly decry, glaring at her for doing her super bad cop routine right now.

Unfazed, Javi reassuringly caresses the small of your back with his palm while returning Zoraida's unflinching stare to answer matter-of-factly, "Celina doesn't need anyone to keep an eye on her, but I'll admit I was looking forward to staring at her and trying to follow along with the class. Although if she does that downward dog pose in front of me, I can't say I wouldn't consider spiriting her away to somewhere private."

You blush girlishly at that and swat his chest with the back of your hand as you hiss, "Javier!"

Zory cracks a smile and relaxes her stance to approvingly gesture as she quips, "Ok, he's passing the trial…for now."

Rolling your eyes as you derisively snicker, you take Javi's hand and lead him over to the back of the room to get a yoga mat, offering a, "You two are incorrigible," over your shoulder as you go, earning a smirk from Javi and for Zoraida to shoot him a conspiratorial wink.

Once the class starts, Javi is able to follow along for the first few poses, and watches you and Zory expertly match in stances with little effort as you stand side by side in front of him. By the time he gets to tree pose, though, he finds himself wobbling to try and not lose his balance and stick out like a sore thumb in the class.

"Here, center your weight and keep your back straight," is the sudden instruction from the vivacious male teacher Javier hadn't noticed work his way around the room towards him before placing his hands on Javier's hips to align his stance. "There, much better! Remember to engage your core to stay centered, everyone."

You peek over your shoulder and bite your lip to stifle the smile seeing Javi in the tree pose looking bashful has threatening to crest your features with mirth. When he catches your glance, he glowers goofily at you and mouths, 'Mala.'

Blowing a kiss at him for calling you 'Bad girl,' you turn and snicker at Zory when she hums, "¿Te tiene suelta como gabete, eh?"

"Zory, cállate," you hiss back, and when she just gives you a mocking look, you whisper, "And yes, he does."

She stifles her simpering laugh and pays attention to the instructor's next directive.

Javier watches you and Zoraida whisper teasingly at each other and smiles, happy to see you enjoying the carefree moment with your friend. So when it finally comes to the downward dog position, he recites the mantra, Don't be a perv. Don't be a perv. Don't stare at her glorious ass too long, while trying to do the pose and not ogle you rapaciously. While he does so, he's too distracted to notice Zoraida covertly watching him from her position, and pleasantly noticing how he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, and how obviously eager he is to impress you.

It was then and there that Javier had passed her real test.

"Namasté, everyone."

When the class ends, and you stand from the final pose and bow in respect, you turn and smile at Javi, winking at him when he exhales in relief and wipes the back of his hand along his sweaty brow. You quickly collect your mat and roll it back up to pin it to your side before going to him and asking, "Well? Not too hard, right?"

Thankful that the joggers you bought him were dark and camouflaged his lower half well, Javi kneels to roll up his mat as he answers quippingly, "Nope, not bad at all. As for hard? That's another story."

You gasp and squeeze his shoulder in playful retaliation, hissing kittenishly, "Behave, you."

"I'm trying, bravita," he dramatically mutters and stands, taking your rolled up matt and dutifully returning it with his own to where they're stored before loping back to the cubbies with you.

"After freshening up, you two wanna grab a smoothie downstairs?" Zoraida queries as she retrieves her gym tote and finishes putting her sneakers on.

"Sure. I'll be quick, querida," is Javi's easygoing reply before he kisses your cheek and takes his bag with him to the men's locker room.

You piningly watch him go, and Zory puts her hands on her hips and stares amusedly until you remember yourself and quickly grab your things.

"You got it baaaaad, girl."

"Yes, I do. And I'm not even mad about it anymore, so deja el relajo."

A short while later, the three of you are entering the trendy smoothie shop that's on the ground floor of the building, and since it was busy, Javi suggested grabbing the table he spotted in the back before going up to the counter to order. Having changed into clean clothes, Javi was checking you out – loving how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in the black spandex bike shorts and oversized tie-dye sweatshirt. And he was thankful that he had a clean pair of dark running shorts in his bag.

"Alright, what would you ladies like? My treat," is his charming offer, already rebuffing your attempt to argue by pulling your chair for you and assuring, "Nada de eso. I got it. What smoothie do you want?"

Relenting, you tell him, "The all-berry one. And Zory's favorite is the tropical citrus one."

"Coming right up," he croons and walks over to make the line.

"Nena," Zory whispers to grab your attention, and when you look at her with expectant eyes, she singsongs in Spanish, "That man is fine."

Suppressing a grin, you sass, "I told you."

"Me cae bien, fíjate. And I can see him holding his own with your dad, so hopefully you'll introduce them soon since I get the feeling your jevo wants to make you his wife—" she boasts amusingly, earning your scoff and idle dismissive wave. "I'm serious. Have you considered it?"

"Marriage?!" you whisper aloofly.

"No. Letting him meet your dad. Pero yeah – if you were gonna marry anyone—"

"Shhh!" you shush when she says it a little too loud and you notice Javi glance over from where he waits at the counter now. He winks at you, and you smile, wrinkling your nose goofily at him, and already pining to yank that grey t-shirt off of him. "As a matter of fact, I did agree to a sort of dinner thing with my dad. He suggested it, and mentioned that Javier was invited. I just haven't mentioned it to him yet," you confide, glancing back at her when she hums in surprise. "I mean, you know how it is. I don't want to set expectations until I'm sure it's the right thing – putting him through that hassle."

"Something tells me he wouldn't think it a hassle at all," Zoraida offers sagely as she runs her fingers through her ponytail. "I say, go for it."

You're about to respond in the contrary when Javier walks back to the table with three large smoothie cups he places down, sliding one to Zory and another towards you before sitting next to you.

"Here you go. Let me know if it's right," he remarks as he puts the straw in his own cup and takes a sip, humming in approval.

"What flavor did you get?" you ask before taking a sip of yours.

"The strawberry and banana one," he tells you before stealing a sip from your cup. "Mmm, that's good too."

Laughing, you snicker, "I know, chavón. Let me have a sip of yours."

He slides the cup over to you, and while you sip, he asks Zoraida, "So, is it true that you two used to sneak out to parties when you were teens?"

"Yes. We've known each other the longest of all the girls. We were each other's alibis with our parents. 'I'm sleeping over at Celina's this weekend,' was all I had to say. My parents admired hers and they thought she was a goody two shoes," Zoraida answers charmingly before drinking her smoothie.

You squint at her when Javi hums intriguingly. "See, she's a charlatán, because she was the one with the good girl rep," you parry back and earn Javi's raised brows and pursed lipped mueca. "I was good at school, but had a bad attitude, according to most—"

"Yeah, and our parents were all come mierdas, so as long as we behaved and kept up appearances when it was crucial, we got the leeway we needed," Zoraida concedes, not wanting to lead the convo into darker edges of your shared pasts. "Anyway, so is it true you came down here just to get her back?"

"Zory!" you jeer grumpily at her, to Javi's unshaken amusement.

"I did."

"And what're your long-term intentions?"

"Zoraida—"

"I want to earn back everything we'd been working towards. Getting a place together, meeting our families, having our lives fit together—"

"You're gonna have to get through a few more steps before any of that, just so you know," Zoraida insists rather smugly, adding, "Tayra and Naida will have to sign off on you—"

"Ok, you're being ridiculous now," you interject, getting peeved.

Javier senses there's something underlying about the conversation, so he reassures, "It's fine, querida—"

"Look, I'm the really blunt one of our quartet, so I'll just come out and say it: I fell for the charms of the last guy Celina was head over heels for, and us three girls will not make that mistake again. We're very protective of her, and after all she's been through, we want to make sure she's with someone who deserves her," Zoraida states a little sharper than she'd intended, and sees your incredulous stare before you relax your features into that stoic, impartial regard that comes over you as a way to shield yourself. "I—I'm sorry. I don't mean any disrespect."

"None taken," Javi replies, leaning close to you so he can put his arm consolingly around your shoulders. "I'm happy that she has so many people who love and protect her. She deserves the world, so all I can say is, that I will do everything I have to in order to prove I'm worthy of her, and intend to earn the trust of everyone important in her life," is his baritone declaration, and when you glance up at him in awe, he genuinely smiles and kisses your temple before saying without frills, "I love her with all my heart. And she can do with me whatever she wants. I can take it."

It's the perfect thing to say that sparks the break in tension, earning a cleansing laugh from you and a relieve chuckle from Zoraida. "Well, I'm satisfied," she exclaims before dramatically toasting her cup with his, and saluting, "You've cleared your first judge. Good luck advancing through the trials of Celina, and thanks for the smoothie."

To say it was a rollercoaster of feelings that the conversation took you on would be an understatement, so you were thankful to wrap up the outing with your friend and head home with Javier.

As you drive, you find yourself rambling, "I'm really sorry about that. She's always been the super bad cop of the group, and sometimes she goes way too far and crosses the line, but she doesn't really mean to—"

"Mi amor, it's ok. I kind of enjoyed the verbal sparring," Javi assures you, eyeing your sheepish grimace. "I swear, I didn't mind it."

"Well, I did," you admit, concentrating on driving. "I do not like being under inquisition."

He reaches over and caresses his hand along your thigh. "I know you don't. So from now on, I'll take it, and you just need to let it play out. You don't need to defend me—"

You've just pulled up to the gate of your building and pause in putting in the code to glare imperiously over at him. "I know I don't need to defend you. I want to defend you, especially from my nosy, rude friends who think disrespecting you is a way to suss out whether you're a horrible jerk or not," you huff and punch in the code before rolling up your window.

Javi can tell you're getting worked up, so he flattens his lips to keep from saying what he wants.

You see it from the corner of your eye, so once the gate has opened and you can cruise down to your spot, you tell him impertinently, "Don't even try clamming up now. Go ahead and say what you were thinking, Javi."

His brow furrows dubiously at that, but he waits for you to park in your spot and turn the car off before he pivots towards you and husks, "I was thinking that you should let the people who know you and care about you protect you, even from yourself, which is what it sounded like Zoraida was hinting at. I didn't take offense to it because I know my intentions and how I've fucked up countless times before, so having someone who cares about you hold me to a standard isn't unreasonable. It's what I would want for you. And I'm up for the challenge of proving myself. But you're taking it as a critique of your judgment. I know feeling like someone is criticizing your past decisions can make you feel insulted, but I don't think it was meant that way."

Absorbing that, you wilt back into the seat, pensive. Javi thinks he's really hit a nerve in you, so he's about to apologize when you turn and stare into his dark brewed eyes with blazing conviction gleaming in yours.

"No. I resented her line of questioning of you, because I've made it clear to her and the others that the way I feel about you is different than I've ever felt about anyone else. So her pulling that shit earlier really ticked me off," you rationalize in a cool, yet firm timbre. At his hapless stare, you narrow your gaze and sass, "I guess it bears repeating: You are the love of my life, and I do not take kindly to anyone, no matter how much they mean to me, disparaging you in any way. Even if they think they're just being protective. I know what I feel, and what I want. And I trust you, so they should respect that. And so should you, dammit."

Astonished, Javi sits there with a dopy, smitten expression, so you scoff and lean over to kiss him, bossily grabbing him by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward to meet you halfway.

The kiss is electric. It's teeming with the static cling of tension, but scintillating with the simmering desire you both have for each other and have been intensely bottling up all evening.

As the make-out session gets more torrid, the windows begin to fog up, and the warmth inside the car has both your senses honing in on each other. The way his scent is spicy and heady, how the heat of your arousal gives away how wet and needy you are for him, the way his pulse is racing as his hands fondle you covetously while his ravenous tongue sweeps into your mouth to duel with yours.

Just as he glides his hand down to caress between your thighs, you gasp and drag your mouth to suckle his bottom lip before grazing your blunt teeth over the pillowy morsel and snickering, "Ah! Not here, fresco."

The molten, searing stare he gives you while his expression etches in surly desire makes your pulse skip, then shoot aching want between your thighs when he growls, "Get upstairs. Now."

Oh, how you missed this ridiculous game.

The order sends a salacious charge down your body and has you acting before you could even think. You're out of the driver's side with the car and house keys in your hand before it's even registered, and you're sprinting up to the lobby and rushing up the stairs before you've realized you left your gym bag in the backseat with Javi's. It'd been hardwired to do as he said, and you were aflutter with anticipation as you sprint up the flights of stairs, which was making you buzz anxiously. So much so, you drop the keys at one point and struggle to double back and scoop them up before resuming your sprint.

Just as you make it to your floor, you hear the distant ding of the elevator arriving at the lobby, so you squeak and hurry to cross the loggia corridor towards your apartment door. You fumble with the keys, missing slipping the lock's key in twice before you manage to unlock it and open the door. As you're yanking the key out, you hear the elevator arrive on your floor, and you excitedly dash into the apartment, closing the door haphazardly because of how hastily you toss the keys to the counter so you can yank your sneakers off and remove your socks in order to sprint easily on the tiled floor. But before you can make a run to your bedroom, Javier is breezing through the door with both gym bags in hand and a surly look that promised lasciviousness wherever he saw fit to indulge you in when he got his hands on you.

"Ven acá," he orders in that honeyed husk that drags over a roughened, commanding pitch as he tosses the gym bags aside and gestures 'Come here' to you.

The mischievous laugh bubbles up in you before you daringly dash away and run down the hall. You don't make it beyond the guest bedroom door though before Javier's gained on you and swept you up against him, earning a gleeful squeal from you.

"You little traviesa," he purrs puckishly as he pins you to the wall and slips his hands up your sweatshirt before pulling it up your torso and yanking it off you. "Do you know how fucking hard I've been?! How worked up you got me bending over like that in the class—?!"

"It was the pose! I didn't do anything sexy—" is your giggled counter as you grab his grey shirt and tug it up to pull it off for him. But as soon as his shirt is off, Javi grabs you by your hips and spins you around to be pinned with your hands to the wall. Your voice cracks and an excited sound slips from your lips as he unhooks your bra with one hand while the other yanks down your bottoms – bike shorts and panties peeling down your thighs before swiftly getting discarded once he kneels behind you to strip them off. Just as you're about to whine for him that he was being silly, Javi fondles a hand to grip the curve of your waist and spanks your bare left buttock with his other hand.

The needy whimper you make has him throbbing in his pants, but he wants to rile you up into begging for more. So, he runs one hand up your spine soothingly while the hand that spanked you caresses the smooth skin of your derrière as he croons, "I could make out the contour of your pussy through the leggings when you bent over. Wanted to run my tongue along your seam, right then and there—"

"Ja-Javi," you mewl and quiver with desire, blindly shedding your bra, which had you removing your hands from the wall and reaching backwards. It's an unconscious need to touch him as a way to ground yourself – of needing to still feel in control and like you weren't falling into chaos, so your fingers brush his shoulders before he hums warningly at you.

"Put your hands against the wall, malcriada."

Your palms are against the cool surface before you even realize the motion, and you can feel the apples of your cheeks burn as you stifle a whine by biting your lower lip.

He's buzzing with primal pride at how eager and compliant you're being, because he knows it means you're beyond turned on and desperate for him. So, he decides to instigate you.

With a possessive touch, Javi gropes his hand down from your waist to your mound before teasingly caressing your pussy. You gasp and rut against his fingers, beyond aroused, so Javi grazes his lips just above the cleft of your backside before growling in a sinful pitch, "Quit whining, or I won't give you what you want, you spoiled little minx—"

Hackles rising at that, you defiantly arch your back and sass in a reedy tone, "Do you know what I want, querido?" and shoot him a devious glance over your shoulder.

Pleased by your audacious comeback, Javi spanks your ass and recedes his fingers from teasing your dripping cunt. You mewl and shiver, knees becoming wobbly as he stands and swiftly boxes you in from behind before possessively cupping his large hand below your jaw so he can crane your countenance up to his, pinning you into place with his smoldering dark coffee gaze.

"You want your naughty ass dominated," is his velvet-over-steel rumble, eyeing you ravenously as he glides his thumb from your jaw to your chin before dragging the pad to trace the plump flesh of your bottom lip.

Not to be outdone, your gaze becomes alluring as you sultrily demand, "Then fucking dominate me, papisongo."

The deviant thrill that crests up through him is fierce, so much so he spins you around and picks you up by your waist to pin your back against the wall before he unceremoniously shoves his bottoms down his hips enough to free his throbbing manhood and guide you down onto it while he plunges up into your silken heat.

You anchor your arms to loop his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you against the wall, expertly making you melt down into primal ecstasy and plucking cries of delight from you. The snap of his hips and the strength of his hold on you has you desperate for the bliss that begins to crescendo up, promising blistering gratification as your climax builds. So when Javi coos, "My sweet girl. Feel you getting close—" you whimper and nuzzle your pleading whines into his neck. And Javi answers you by angling his next thrusts to slam home into that delicate cluster of nerves deep inside your molten sheath, which propels you off the proverbial cliff to fall into rapturous completion.

"Javi!" you cry out before losing yourself to the carnal glory as your walls strangle around his throbbing cock.

It steals his breath, seeing you come apart so fiercely, and when you desperately cling to him and ride the wave of pleasure, you mindlessly bite the warm sloping muscle that connects his delectable neck to his broad shoulders before suckling hard on it.

The sound he makes is raw need and makes you ravenous, so when he fucks wantonly into you, only gasping cries of 'Yes-Yes-Yes!' ramble from your mouth as he barrels into you just before his hips stutter and he climaxes on a hoarse groan.

Shakily, he holds you both up against the wall as his release fills your pulsing heat, gasping and panting gruffly against your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek. You're just as fucked out whilst clinging to his broad frame, but your thighs are trembling from the effort of staying clung to him so, and you greedily wanting to keep him nestled deep inside of you.

With a hearty exhale, Javi nudges his head affectionately against you and husks, "Well…I kept my core engaged…guess I learned something after all."

You laugh breathily and lovingly kiss his warm, smiling features.

A short while later, you're both lounging in the warm bubble bath together, enjoying how the water soothes your aching muscles and relaxes the post coital fatigue from your satisfied sinew. You were still giggling at how silly it was that Javier had stripped you naked and kept his bottoms and sneakers on, and he was kneading his fingers in massaging presses along your curves while snickering his rationale.

"—I wasn't going to waste time kicking them off. Not with how quick you are descalza."

"You looked so funny standing in the hall with just your sneakers on—"

"And who's fault is that?"

"Mine, and I feel no guilt, bebito—"

"Ah-hah, keep giggling, loquita—"

You simper a taunting chuckle at that, so he scoops a big puff of bubbles and plops it on your head in a goofy crown of suds, causing you to laugh effervescently and splash him before he grins and pinches your butt under the water.

With a soft snicker, you brush the crown of bubbles off as you settle to cuddle into his side under the warm soapy water before you kiss his cheek and sigh, "That was amazing, Javi."

Smiling, he glides his hand along the length of your side under the water, grunting, "Yeah. Yoga's hot."

A silly snort comes out of you before you shift to rest more comfortably against him so you can caress your warm, wet fingertips along his brow, brushing them soothingly along his forehead when he closes his eyes and exhales a relaxing breath through his nose.

"Not as hot as you," is your sincere flirtation, enjoying how his eyes flutter and he groans contrarily. "C'mon, guapetón. You know I'm smitten with your sexy ass."

He chuckles at that and stares sweetly at you. "I do. Luckily, I feel the same," he purrs and gives you a smug look.

"You better," is your sassy coo before leaning in to peck him on the lips, then dip your fingertips into the water and flick droplets teasingly at him. "So tomorrow night, I'm going to get ready at Jodalys' place. Do you need me to iron any of your clothes?"

"I got it handled, querida. Don't worry," he replies coolly before scrubbing his hand down his face. "Oh, we finally got that co-op signed off on, so tomorrow we're going to be in Aguadilla for a training exercise. I should be back in time to get ready here and pick you up at her place, if you want."

Nodding, you idly trace your touch along his chest as you ask, "Are any of the guys going to attend the gala?" When he raises his brows curiously, you elaborate, "So, Olga happened to mention today that she's hoping to get a chance to socialize with Nic. I wasn't sure if he or any of your guys would be free to attend. Especially now if that operation is going to happen."

"The invite went to everyone, but I don't know if Lopez or Duff were planning on going. I'll ask 'em tomorrow," he answers thoughtfully before asking, "How was shopping with the girls?"

"Great. We each found what we needed for tomorrow night. I'm really looking forward to the night out," you tell him, smiling when he hums and quirks his lips goadingly. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering what sexy lingerie you're gonna have on under your dress," he remarks nonchalantly and gives a one-shouldered shrug.

"Ah, well. Who said I plan to wear anything under my dress at all?" is your cavalier musing, mimicking his shrug.

"…You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"Querida—" he begins to grumble warningly, trying for stern, but the way you squint cunningly at him makes it clear you're only teasing, so he grunts, "All right, quit instigatin' me and get your pruny butt out of this bath, Ms. Namaste."

You both relish the shared nightly routine of getting ready for bed. While you do so, you mention to Javi about the plans for Sunday, telling him all about how you and your friends had been ring shopping helpers for Naida's soon-to-be fiancé. He listens and steals glances at you as you pull a big, well-worn Blondie tour shirt on before brushing your hair out in front of the mirror as you dish and appreciatively glance at your boxer-brief-clad stud.

"—I have a nice bottle of bourbon for him, and a registry preset for her at the chic homeware boutique she loves, so now it's just waiting to see which of our ring selections he chose," you're recapping as you pull the quilt away so you can slip under it while Javi shuts the hall light off and saunters in to the side of the bed closest to the door. Fluffing the pillows, you musingly query, "So you'll be in Aguadilla most of the day tomorrow?"

"No, just in the afternoon. I have meetings to go over logistics and bank financials. Lawyers for some of the banks are stonewalling us, so I have to deal with that while Steve keeps an eye on things. He'll be at the federal building office most of the day," Javi replies in a relaxed baritone as he slips under the covers with you and switches the lamp off. Slinking up to wrap his forearm around your waist so he can pull you close, he nuzzles your jaw and croons, "Mmm, you smell good, rockerita. No sexy little batita tonight?"

Snickering, you nudge him to lie back so you can cuddle into his side as you lilt, "All my nice nighties are at your place or in the hamper, suavón!"

He grunts wryly and settles comfortably in bed with you. You contentedly kiss his cheek and nestle up against him, arm slung across his chest to idly caress the contour of his deltoid while you relax and begin to doze off to the breezy sounds sifting through the room and the strong thrum of his heartbeat.

"Goodnight, hermoso."

He grunts coolly, the exhaustion of the workout class and the torrid romp in the hallway making him easily succumb to sleep, head lulled on the pillow while you snuggle to rest yours on his shoulder.

When you both rise early the next morning, you shower together, and while he gets dressed, you whip up a nice breakfast for you both to share while stood at the kitchen counter to eat so you can quickly savor the coffee while multitasking finishing getting ready for the busy day.

Straightening the knot of his silver and blue tie for him, you rise to your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before drawling, "Good luck dealing with FBI today. I hope the drill goes well."

Snorting he caresses your waist and holds you close so he can give you a soulful look while he smirks and deadpans, "I'm gonna need it, considering I just want to deck the guy—"

"Nada de eso, mi amor," you tut sarcastically and give him a faux chiding pout as you harp, "It shouldn't bare repeating that he's an asshat you shouldn't get jealous over, but since you're so terco, I'll just remind you that if you get in a dust up with him and end up needing to be bailed out, I will be really mad at you."

Relenting, Javi grouses, "Yeah…and you'd be right to be pissed. I won't start anything, cariño. I promise."

With an exacting smile, you caress his hair and purr, "Good boy."

The flare of want darkens his coffee-brewed irises just before he impishly pulls you against him so he can kiss you breathless.

Pulling away suddenly to break the kiss, he smugly grunts when you chase his lips and end up blushing. "You be a good girl and have a great day at work, preciosa," he husks before stealing a cheeky peck and grabbing his keys from the counter, shooting you a debonair wink before he breezes out the apartment door.

Letting out a flustered huff, you coax your arousal to simmer down as you rush to finish getting ready.

As you're heading out to start your work commute, you don't know that your day will be a tumult of unexpected turmoil, nor that Javi will be both at the mercy of said turmoil and the perpetuator of it. No, only the excited anticipation is what fills you up, leaving you unprepared for what's to come.

  ________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi amor = My love

Ay, por favor = Oh, please

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Amigo = Friend; buddy

Chisme = Gossip

Pana = Puerto Rican slang for 'buddy' or friend

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Canela = Cinnamon

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Chingona = Mexican slang for bad ass woman

Dame un beso, gatita coqueta = Give me a kiss, you coquettish kitten

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl Pá. Cuídate = Dad. Take care

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Jefa = Boss lady

Dulzón = Sweetheart [male]

Puto cabrón =Fucking asshole

La Fortaleza = The Puerto Rican Governor's office and mansion; aka 'The Puerto Rican White House'

Chismeando = Gossiping around

Sangano = Puerto Rican slang for a man who's a fool; an idiot, moron or dummy

Galán = Handsome gent

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Malvadita = Wicked little girl

Mírame, hermosa = Look at me, beautiful

Beyaquito = Little naughty perv

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Señorita = Miss; little lady

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl Burlón = Joker; teaser

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Ah pues = Oh well

Es tan lindo, y buena gente. Su sonrisa me encanta = He's so cute and kind. I love his smile

Cabrón = Asshole

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Rizos = Curls (hair)

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Mira quien es = Look who it is

Mucho gusto = Nice to meet you; Pleasure to meet you

Mala = Bad girl

¿Te tiene suelta como gabete, eh? = This is Puerto Rican slang that basically translates to 'He's got you uninhibited and free;' being loose and untethered like a untied shoelace

Cállate = Shut up

Deja el relajo = Cut the hassling

Nada de eso = None of that

Nena = Girl

Me cae bien, fíjate = I like him, mind you

Pero = But

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Charlatán = Charlatan; Chatterbox

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Come mierdas = Literally translates to 'shit eaters' but as Puerto Rican slang, it refers to snobby people who are foolishly elitist, or think they're better than others

Ven acá = Come here

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Papisongo = Puerto Rican slang for a very sexy man; a stud

Descalza = Barefoot [woman]

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Loquita = Crazy girl

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Rockerita = Rocker girl; Little rocker chick

Batita = Nightgown

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Terco = Stubborn [man]

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[tk-fandom-stuff]

Hi guys it's a Christmas miracle that I actually managed to finish a fic 😝

Anyway enjoy this no crash and no jimjam fic!! If u tag this as ship I'll get u

If you want to read it on ao3 its right here

Fic under the cut!!

Curly stared at the scene in front of him, cursing the fact that his responsibility as captain means he has to deal with stuff like this. Daisuke, with a look on his face somewhere between sheepishness and a pout, is stuck in the emergency foam. With Swansea glaring at the kid like he's the cause of all his problems, unfair, but the kid was trouble sometimes. They've only been on the ship for close to 5 months and there's already been several incidents like this, usually with Daisuke as the unintentional culprit.

Curly can't ever bring himself to be mad at the kid though, he's a good kid and he only wants to help out, he just needs to listen a little better. “Well. I see the issue here.” He says. Swansea's glower is turned on him. “The kid was brought on just to make me suffer!” He snapped, “Intern my ass.” He grouses. Curly sighs, waving Swansea off, “Go, I'll deal with this, I'm the only one with access to the axe case anyway.” He ignores the man's muttering as he storms out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Turning around to face Daisuke, he raises an eyebrow. “How many times has he warned you not to mess with the vent now?” The kid pouts, “I was just trying to help! How was I supposed to know it would trigger the emergency foam?” He wiggles a bit while he's talking, trying to free his hands from the foam. He gets one out and starts slowly digging out the other hand, which is quite a ways deeper in the foam than the other one was. Curly clears his throat, and when Daisuke looks up at him, gives him a stern look.

“You should know better than to mess with the vent, it's collapsed inside since before this voyage and you've been told that it's too dangerous for even Swansea to try and fix.” He raised an eyebrow. “You've only worked on this ship for 5 months, you're nowhere near qualified enough to fix the vent, it could kill you if you try, at the least it would hurt you pretty bad.” As he's speaking, Daisuke droops, ashamed and embarrassed. He sighs, ruffling the kids' hair. “I'm not mad at you, kid, I don't want you to get hurt and Swansea doesn't either. It's why he's so hard on you.” He gives him a reassuring smile, which Daisuke hesitantly returns.

Curly stepped away to get the axe out of its case, pulling out the code scanner to make sure he puts in the right code. When he grabs the axe and starts walking back, he sighs as he sees Daisuke's nervous look. “Can't you just use your hands and pull me out? I got my hand out on my own” He says with an uneasy grin. Curly leans the axe nearby, resigning himself to calming the kid down. “It's too thick for me to pull you out of it, the only reason you could get your hand out was because it wasn't deep in the foam. And,” He raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn't be in this situation if you had just listened to Swansea.” He shrugged.

Daisuke still looked hesitant, and Curly struggled to think of something to help the kid calm down. The last thing he wanted was him freaking out and getting hit with the axe on accident. He thinks back to earlier in the week during game night, after losing at sorry for the third time in a row Anya had started to tickle him to distract him from the game. The tickle fight that happened could have gone down in history. It would calm him down, and Daisuke never seems to mind it. Plus, maybe it would finally stick that he needs to be more careful and listen to what he's told.

He raises a hand and starts poking at Daisuke's side, grinning at the immediate giggles it elicited. It was always hard not to smile when Daisuke laughed, he's so bright and energetic that his joy and laughter are contagious. “Waihahait!” He squealed and covered his face with his free hand as Curly moved to scribble at his belly. “Daisuke, I'm not even doing anything,” he laughs softly. “Liahahar!” He shrieked when Curly poked at his belly button.

Curly stopped to give Daisuke a moment to breathe before smirking at him. “Is that any way to talk to your captain?” Daisukes eyes go wide. “Waihahait! I dihihidn't mehehean it! Dohohohn’t!” He pleaded as Curly reached for his free hand. He halfheartedly tries to squirm away, but the foam might as well have been concrete with how tough it was to move through it.

Curly, pausing as he gets a slightly evil idea, hums to himself. “don't what?” He asks, hiding a grin. Daisuke walks right into his trap, “tihihickle mehehe!” He giggles out. Daisuke freezes, eyes wide, as he realizes that he just fell for the oldest trick in the book, and one that he himself uses often. His nervous anticipatory smile grows as he stares at the silently grinning captain.

Curly lightly drags his nails around his palm and down his arm, listening to Daisuke's panicked laughter fluctuate as he goes back and forth. “Awww does it tickle, Daiske?” He can't help but tease. He's met with squeaky giggles as he draws closer to his palm.

Curly waited, letting the anticipation build until Daisuke started to get fidgety. Then he strikes, spidering down his arm and scratching at the palm of his hand. Daisuke's giggles get wilder as he unsuccessfully instinctively tries to pull his hand away.

After a moment, he lets go of Daisuke's hand, giving him a moment to breathe. “Alright kid, let's get you out of that foam.” Curly said, picking up the axe from its resting spot. Daisuke nods, still giggling slightly, waiting for Curly to chop through the thick foam before shaking out his body from being trapped in the foam for a while.

When free, he rubs at his palm, chasing away residual tingles. He seems to remember what got his stuck in the foam in the first place, and his head droops, expecting a reprimand. Curly sighs softly, pulling Daisuke into a side hug and ruffling his hair. “Like I said, nobody's truly mad at you, just worried because you could have gotten hurt or worse. Just don't do it again and you'll be fine.” He grins at him, and Daisuke smiles back.

“And you should cheer up, don't think I won't go for round two. Now, go help Swansea, I'm sure he needs your help right now. ” He says, poking Daisuke in the side a couple of times. Daisuke squeaks and moves away a bit. “Okahahahay! Message received!” He laughed out, walking towards the door. He pauses at the entrance for a moment. “Thanks Curly.” He says with an embarrassed flush, before scampering out of the room. Curly watches him go with a fond smile, turning around to get rid of the rest of the foam.

[some-triangles]

There's a lot of year-end posting to be done. I think what I want to do first is talk about a lesson I learned this year. This is partially a reminder to myself that although I am rapidly aging to perfection (very like a wheel of parmesan) there is still room for improvement.

The basic lesson is: Let Your Friends Change.

Because you want your friends to change. They, being cheeses in their own right, still have maturing to do, and when they do, this should be acknowledged and celebrated. Or maybe they didn't change - you just found out new things about them, or about yourself, things that put your relationship in a different light. Or maybe you just stopped being such a dick in general.

So the actual lesson is: Let The Way You Treat Your Friends Change.

When we interact with people we are all to some degree interacting with the tulpa of the person in question that lives inside our heads. Sometimes the tulpa needs adjusting to fit the person, and too often we are lazy about installing updates.

Updates can be things like:

-This person who I didn't know well enough to trust is now a person I can trust. (or vice versa.)

-This person who I was acting as a mentor to has graduated from being a mentee and should now be treated as a peer.

Relatedly: -This person who I was acting as a parent to is now an adult and should be treated like an adult.

Obviously: -This person has gone through an important transition and I should behave accordingly.

Unfortunately: -This person who I have been treating as a rival and/or a threat to my position is just a person and it turns out all of that was in my head.

So the practical lesson is: Stop Being Such A Paranoid, Condescending Asshole.

And I don't mean that in a self-hating way! Self-hatred is a dead end, and we are all assholes sometimes. It's more a friendly reminder to examine why I'm treating people in certain ways, and to make an adjustment if I don't like what I see. It's an exercise worth doing.

SO yeah, this has helped me with my friendships this year. I hope to keep it up, because the other thing I've learned about myself is that I truly believe that friendship is more important than ideology. (Most of the time.)

[soulmatesinc-if]

i honestly have no idea what made me think of this concept (maybe it was the office. not sure) and i hope you don't mind reading almost 900 words of pure brainrot, but i wrote a thing to get myself in the holiday spirit and what better than to project my favorite pastime of eating every dessert i come across onto my husband favorite french ginger (no matter how ooc it might be). i apologize in advance to the people who may scroll past this, if there is a 'read more' option on asks, i did not see it 🙏🏽

The week before a holiday just means another holiday party at Soulmates Inc.

Sydni, surprisingly, doesn't mind the parties. She's not the most lively person in the world and she honestly doesn't talk to many people at her job besides Wyatt and Rachel, but the atmosphere is nice nonetheless.

The place was alive with chatter, laughter, and the faint strains of a Christmas playlist coming from a speaker somewhere (all the songs are very modern iterations of the usual classics, much to her very mild dismay). Some people chose to mingle near the buffet table, while a few other clusters nursed drinks and made small talk near the tackily decorated tree. The groups aren't too far off from what happens every other work day, with that select few crowding the water cooler or the printer for just a little too long, but now there's little tree and snowflake banners on the walls.

Sydni stood slightly apart from the commotion, holding a plate filled with neatly arranged brownie squares. She helped herself to one or two earlier in the party, but once she noticed that she was really the only person eating them, she asked the person who brought them if she could just take them all. She was only half-joking when she asked, but was definitely surprised when they actually said she could. Her stance against the wall was relaxed, her eyes scanning the room with quiet detachment as she absently bit into one of the squares.

She almost immediately took another bite once she heard footsteps, giving herself an excuse to not really talk to anyone, but decided against it once she saw it was just Wyatt.

He stops next to her, opting to lean against the wall for support.

“Whoever's putting these songs in the queue needs to be fired,” he says in lieu of a greeting, immediately fixing his sunglasses to rest atop his head.

She hums in agreement and Wyatt flashes her a smile. Then, just noticing the plate in her hands, his face brightens and an 'oooh' sound comes from his mouth before his hand lifts towards it.

Sydni pulls the plate out of his reach, earning her a confused look from him. She doesn't miss a beat. “I'm not sharing.”

“What?!” Wyatt's look of confusion immediately shifts to shock as he pushes himself off the wall and his hand flies to his chest.

“Did you seriously think that nobody saw you by the dessert table the past fifteen times you were there?”

She knows that he knows what she's referring to. In the hour or two that this event has been going on, Sydni has watched him leave the dessert table with something at least once every 5 minutes. He's lucky that everyone else has been too busy eating the actual food and socializing to notice, and he's even luckier that Sydni didn't care enough to call him out earlier. She saved her brownies and that's enough for her. But now he wants those, too, so she has to say something.

An instinctive noise of protest comes from him before he snaps his mouth shut. Wyatt's face twists into a picture of mock indignation, though the faint color creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Sydni—”

“Andrew,” she cut him off sharply, but there was no real venom in her voice. “I looked back at the table every few minutes and without fail, a new portion was gone every time. I actually like these.”

He heaves a heavy, almost pleading sigh before clasping his hands together. She always forgets how drainingly dramatic he can be.

“Sydni.” Oh no. "My friend. My confidant. The only person on my Beets & Dungeons friends list—"

“Christ.”

“—I am deeply, terribly sorry for being so selfish. I was swept away by the holiday spirit, you see, but I'm sure you don't want to hear my oh-so pitiful excuses.”

Sydni stared at him, her expression unchanging. She let the silence stretch between them for just long enough to make Wyatt shift on his feet a little bit.

...It shouldn't work. It really shouldn't work.

...

What was that about being swept away by the holiday spirit?

“...Three,” she said finally, her voice clipped as she slowly offers up the plate.

He perks up immediately. “Five.”

“Three.” He can't be serious.

“Four.”

“One.”

Wyatt's shoulders slump slightly in defeat as she plucks a single brownie from the plate. “...Okay.”

As he bit into it, his expression shifted from mock dejection to genuine delight. He gives her a playful 'can you believe this?' look before shaking his head with his brows furrowed.

Sydni glanced at him sideways, shaking her head but saying nothing. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, though she quickly smothered it.

He catches the flicker of amusement and grins again, still triumphant despite his loss of two extra possible brownie squares. “You’re too good to me. Cheers.”

Sydni scoffs before deciding to indulge him, picking up the square she bit into earlier to lightly press against Wyatt's before they both take another bite into their respective pieces.

He makes another delighted sound before they slip into a comfortable silence, opting to just watch their co-workers mingle around them.

The silence seems to get Wyatt thinking, though. He turns to her with an almost scarily genuine look. "This playlist is the worst thing I've ever heard in my life."

“I'm telling Eugene to change it.”

“Thank you, fuck.”

Oh