#but yesterday they were like we should have limited hours the two weeks before christmas bc barely anyone comes in

[pariaritzia]

I am the only person at work who does not celebrate a holiday in december and most customers and coworkers will say merry christmas or happy holiday at the end of a conversation anyway which is fine but the Hashtag Progressive ones have been fighting for their lives while talking to me. which is very entertaining.

[blahandwhatever]

I’ve been trying to make a priority of the fleeting spring flowers, especially on nicer days, but as usual, I seem to find the nicest trees and flowers randomly - and usually inconveniently - on streets I drive through and not in the nature areas where I go for walks. Thursday I went to the Kohl’s in Morton Grove to pick up something they only had at that location and decided to stop by Gallery Park on the way. There wasn’t much there yet, and I kept things short. Yesterday I took a walk in Buffalo Grove that also yielded limited finds - the nicest ones in the middle of a business park parking lot - but was refreshing and rewarding nonetheless.

Today I had my first Nielsen Neuro study in forever. I meant to do one around December - wanted to go to Chicago when the Christmas lights were up again - but, purely due to poor planning and time management, did not. And now, after rejecting two studies on stormy days, followed by good-weathered weeks of nothing, the next study was available on three rainy-forecast days in a row. I needed to finally do it, so I opted for the least cold day, resigning to a potentially more quick and businesslike trip than usual. But I lucked out with a not-entirely-accurate forecast - the rain stopped before I left the house, leaving me with nice clouds and sunshine for my drive. I also managed to leave a mere five minutes later than I’d planned and, for once, have an unhurried drive and actually get there early.

It seems like every time I do one of these, there’s a different person working with me, and, over time, the amount of small talk has steadily declined. For that matter, I feel like the amount of small talk has decreased in many contexts. I don’t know if it’s a COVID aftereffect, but I love it. Like, strangers will be warm and friendly, but they will not make much chitchat and will not ask me about myself or my life. This is exactly how the world should be.

Afterward, I enjoyed not only good weather to walk around in - mostly cloudy but comfortable - but also lots of flowers to admire. Who knew downtown Chicago would end up being my hotspot for tulip season. I wandered through all the flower-decorated places I could find, by the river, and through parks. I found lots of flowering trees and falling petals. Eventually I got very tired and hungry, and craved pizza very specifically, and spent a long time searching for a good place to get just a slice or personal pizza. Well-reviewed and open options nearby were limited. Finally decided to try The Art of Pizza and experienced yet another disappointment with my trusted legion of online reviewers. .1 more star than Aurelio’s?? Give me a break. At least 1 full star less. I’m not sure Aurelio’s does pizza by the slice, so that may be an advantage, but there is literally nothing conceivably good about the crust of this place’s thin-crust pizza no matter what your style. Mere utilitarian vehicle for the toppings, in which case they could do us a favor and make it extra-thin so we have to taste as little of the cardboard as possible. Art of pizza my ass.

But I got some vegetables and I got some calories to power me through the drive home, and at home, I luxuriated in sitting after hours of walking, and at last, I am satisfied with the finds of my wanderings.

[joezworld]

Money (1/2)

Merchandising! 

April, 1997

One morning, Bear was sunning himself in the yard when a group of men in dark suits approached him. 

“Excuse me,” One of them said. “Would you happen to be D7101?”

Bear cracked open an eye. “I haven’t been D7101 in thirty years. Why do you ask?”

“We are from the law offices of Goodman, McGill, and Associates.” The man said quickly, causing Bear to open both of his eyes. “And we represent the Learning Curve Corporation. They would like to license your image for use in their new toy line.” 

As if by magic, one of the other men produced a thick sheaf of papers, which he presented to Bear, who viewed them quizzically. “If you could just sign here.”

“License my image?” Bear didn’t know any of the words that the man was using, but he did know one word that described who these men were: Lawyers.

One of his previous drivers had gone through a very messy ‘divorce’, and had informed Bear that ‘the only good lawyer is your lawyer. All the rest are crooks!’

These men very clearly weren’t his lawyers, so that meant that they were crooks. He viewed the stack of papers that were being held out to him - judging from their predatory smiles and London accents, it was likely that they didn’t believe he could read, and even if they did, he doubted they were going to let him take the time to read every page of that document, especially considering that he didn’t have any hands to hold it with!

“Gentlemen, I do not believe that now is the best time for this,” he said while looking over at the door to the yard offices as though his driver was about to come out of it. “Perhaps we could meet again in a few days? Seven tomorrow night at the big station?”

The men agreed, and left. 

When Bear’s driver eventually did show up several hours later, he found his engine unusually eager to go, especially considering their destination. 

-

Wellsworth

“Good afternoon Mister Growls!” Said Ben cheekily as he shunted Bear’s clay trucks. 

“Same to you.” Bear said. “Listen, Ben-”

“I’m Bill.”

“Whichever one you are - you seem like the kind of engine who knows how to get a lawyer. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

“You might be...” Ben said slowly. “But why does such a fine upstanding engine like you need a lawyer?”

After Bear finished explaining, Ben looked unusually upset, and had dropped the playful attitude he usually had. “Those berks are tying to swindle you! Don’t worry - I do know someone. He’ll meet you tonight.”

-

 That night, Ben’s lawyer, who was actually called a solicitor, met with Bear in the sheds. He was a peculiar man, with an American accent, white hair, and a simply ridiculous combination of clothing - red pants, a blue tie, and a checked coat - that somehow worked quite well on him. Bear was suspicious, but Ben had assured him that for all his peculiarities, he was excellent at what he did. 

After listening to what Bear had been told, he agreed with what Ben had said. 

“How are they swindling me?” Bear asked, puzzled. 

“Well, this company makes toys based on the Thin Clergyman’s books, and the television series that is based off of the books.” The man explained. 

“When they make the toys, they’re basing them off of the drawings of you in the books or the models in the tv series. So they wouldn’t have to pay anyone, because the artists were paid by the publishers, so they own the rights to those drawings, and then the publishers hired the toy company, so they can use the drawings from the books.” 

“Now, I don’t know why they would try to buy the license to your image, but you have only appeared in a few books, so it might be possible that the artist doesn’t have the drawings anymore, or there’s another reason why. International copyright law is very difficult.”

 Bear, who felt very overwhelmed, had to agree!

-

The Next Day

Bear arrived at the big station with the 18:45 Limited. Once the shunter took away his train, Bear had his driver park him on the siding closest to the platforms. 

The lawyers showed up at 7:00 on the dot, an enormous pile of papers in their hands. 

“Mister 7101!” The leader said, smiling like a predatory animal. “A pleasure to see you again! Have you given any thought to our proposal?”

Bear smiled. Unlike yesterday, he was prepared, and his smile was much sharper than it would ordinarily be. From the platform, Oliver shivered - he’d seen smiles like that before - on diesels in the 60′s.

“I have, and I believe that my solicitor would like to discuss the particulars of this contract with you.”

Bear’s solicitor, who had been standing behind a pillar wearing an absurd white jacket, stepped into view. “Hello gentlemen. I understand that you wish to use my client’s image?”

The lawyer’s faces fell as they turned to face Bear’s lawyer, who was beaming broadly. 

“Thomas Perfect, attorney at law. Here’s my card.”

The other men frowned deeply as he swiped the papers from them and began perusing them. After a moment, his smile fell, and he glared at the men as though they’d insulted him. “You lot have a lot of nerve trying to approach my client with this.” He said, gesturing to the papers. “He will sign absolutely nothing until you come back with a real contract - now get out of here before I report you to The Law Society!” 

The men fled in the most dignified manner they could, leaving Bear and Mr. Perfect alone. 

“I am so glad that I was here - that was one of the most offensive offers I have ever been presented with!” He ranted to Bear. “Honestly, the nerve of those people!”

“What did it say?”

“Oh nothing much - except that they wanted to take your image and make toys from it without paying you! If you’d signed this, they’d have been well within their rights to do whatever they wanted and not pay you a penny - Priddy or otherwise!” 

Bear was offended, even if he still didn’t know what any of that meant. 

He asked Mr. Perfect this, and he laughed. 

“So basically what these swindlers are trying to do is buy from you, the rights to use your image - and by image I mean what you look like specifically, because you own that - so they can make products from it. These people want to make toys, so they want to buy your image so they can make little models of you and sell them.” 

He paused. “What’s really offensive here is that they didn’t want to license your image - which means that you own it still but are letting them use it for a fee; they wanted to buy your image outright for a pittance! I think this said a few hundred pounds, which is absolutely ludicrous. If I were a good man I’d report them to the Law Society, but I’m a lawyer, so I’m going to rake them over the coals and take every pound they have instead.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes! Yes it is!”

----

Several weeks went by, and the men never returned - Mr. Perfect had apparently been negotiating with their employers directly, and it was not necessary for them to come to Sodor.

Bear had been kept appraised of the ‘negotiations’ that had been ongoing - apparently his lawyer was very good at his job, or the other lawyers were very bad at theirs - and he was now getting an extremely generous offer for ‘the nonexclusive licensing of his image specifically in regards to wooden railway-compatible models’, whatever that meant - it had been explained to him several times, but he still didn’t quite understand it. His lawyer assured him that this was on purpose, but he shouldn’t worry about it. 

Finally, two months later, a balding man with a severe gray suit arrived at the big station with Bear’s lawyer, who was quite naturally dressed in the most flamboyant outfit Bear had ever seen. 

“Mister Bear,” He said after a moment, looking like he had swallowed a lemon. “I feel that we have gotten off on the wrong foot with our meeting, and I would like to apologize. After careful consultation with Mister Perfect, I believe that this contract is more than acceptable. Forty percent gross retail sales, an annual license fee of fifteen thousand pounds per year for at least five years, beginning when sales begin at Christmas, and final veto power over any future products. I trust that this is all acceptable?”

Bear’s lawyer nodded, so Bear accepted. It took some doing, but with a pen jammed between his teeth, Bear managed to sign the papers. 

-

-

“So Mister Toy-Train,” Bill teased. “Where are they?”

“Where’s what?” Bear asked warily.

“The models! I heard that you were the hottest toy of the year.” 

“Oh, that.” Bear had heard all about the trouble his model had caused. “I’d imagine that they’re still stuck in transit. I don’t know much about toy-making, but I would assume that it’s not normal for there to not be enough toys at Christmas!”

“Actually, that’s a sign that its popular! It means that everybody wants one, and when nobody can get one, people’ll go mad to get their hands on one.” 

“I hope nobody went mad over a model of me!” 

“Oh you should my large Bear-y friend! That means that more people are buying the models, which means that you’re getting more money from that company!”

“Hmm. I suppose I should look into that.” Bear’s eyes widened as he remembered something. “Oh right - I was supposed to ask you if you knew any ‘money managers?’ Mister Perfect said that you knew someone who was trustworthy.”

“Oh I do, but it might not be worth it if its only a few thousand pounds. My brother and I invest our own money because we started out that way.”

“You have money?”

“Oh yeah! We own a racehorse - he does really well.”

"No they don’t!” Shouted BoCo from the other end of the yard. 

“Ignore him.” Bill said. “How much money is it?”

Bear told him how much money it was.

“I’ll put you in touch with her.” Bill gasped, his eyes wide. 

[just-anka]

I realised I haven’t really regularly posted here since like... I don’t even know, September? It’s been a while, anyway. A lot happened, and I now feel like actually writing a post for the first time in a while, so here goes haha. The first bullet point is entirely work waffle so feel free to skip. Apologies in advance for the fact that this post will probably reach novel length by the time I’m done. 

• I took a week off in late September before Ben started his new job so we could go to the mountains for a bit, and it was a much-needed little break from work. And pretty much right after I got back, work got completely mental - nothing bad as such, just one thing after the other, loads of deadlines, so many important things. First I was finishing up data for a paper (first authorship was being debated which is partially why I threw myself into the job so much, but it looks like it’ll be the PhD student before me’s now, which is how it should be tbh, it’s much more hers than it is mine), then the date for my first committee meeting was set and I suddenly had only two weeks to prepare (did not think it was going to be that short notice, whoops, had a very stressful two weeks but all went well - for us, this meeting means presenting our research plan and preliminary data to a committee of four professors so they can give you input, it’s not suuuper formal but still pretty stressful), then I had to write the report for that (I love writing so that one was okay), then there was suddenly a lot to do for a really important cooperation with a company (big money responsibility which stressed me the fuck out), and then, just as I thought I was pretty much done for the year, I realised I needed my lab book up to date for my end of year meeting with my PI (which wouldn’t be such a big deal, except I didn’t have a lab book at the time. Never got around to starting one. So nine months of lab book were written within another very stressful week). Whew. Even writing this out makes me feel like that was a lot haha. 

• After the end of year discussion, I really was done for the year - I officially worked until the 23rd but there was not that much actual work happening, and with the pressure off after months, I properly crashed for a few days. Ben left for England on the weekend after to see his family for christmas etc, and I spent most of that weekend sleeping and doing very little. It was needed. Then my mum came to visit me for the holidays and we had four really lovely days together, also involving a lot of chilling (the only actual thing we did was that magical winter hike that I posted some pictures of the other day). 

• And now I’m skiing! I was planning to go to England as well for NYE to see Ben’s family, but with the corona situation escalating again lately I decided it was too risky for just a few days. So I made a last-minute plan to go skiing by myself instead, because all that involves is a 2 hour train journey. I’m actually staying in a hotel too, which I’ve never done by myself before, I’m usually a dorm in a hostel type of person, but well. Covid has changed a lot of things :D trying to stay safe and away from people, which is of course not entirely possible in a ski resort, but it’s going okay. The skiing itself is great, it’s really nice having some time to go at my own pace and a few days in a row. Today was day 4 and I’ve really found my groove again (more on that later). There’s not much snow though so not many off-pisteing opportunities :/ I’m staying until Monday and then it’s back to work on Wednesday. 

• Speaking of skiing, we’ve got season passes this year, my first season and Ben’s second. We’ve just been doing on the weekends so far - since the 21st of November I just realised while looking back in my calendar! That’s one hell of an early season start haha. We did just one day three weekends and then one full weekend right before Ben left. The first few days were bloody hard. For context, I learned to ski before I learned to walk and loved it as a child, then stopped for a few years because I felt like I wasn’t progressing anymore and was getting bored with it, basically. Then last January I went to France with Ben and his skiing friends and got introduced to freeriding and the idea of ski touring, and now I’m back to loving it haha. I’d ideally like to not have to resort ski anymore at one point (meaning touring) because I know it’s terrible from an environmental standpoint but... idk. It’s currently my only option, and I love it a lot, so I guess it feels okay? Anyway, since I learned to ski so early, it’s the one sport that I’ve always been pretty good at and like, never get scared, at least not on piste. Until this year. The first three individual days were just all kind of horrible, the conditions weren’t ideal with very hard surface and tons of ice and pretty busy slopes, and only steep terrain open as well (Engelberg, our “home” resort - we have a season pass that encompasses a bunch of resorts so we’re not limited to one - is literally dead flat beginner’s slopes, which weren’t open in the beginning, or red runs that should be black and black lol). Pairing loads of ice with my old skis which barely have an edge anymore was... not ideal. I was so scared constantly and it made me like I lost all my ability etc etc. But yeah, turns out I just needed a few days and some easier conditions to get back into it, and now ice and steep stuff and everything is fine again. Who would’ve thought. (a sensible person, probably). 

• But then, the full weekend we skied in December was awesome! Saturday already felt much better and then it snowed a bunch over night and Sunday we spent all day powder skiing, basically. I learned SO much and just had an absolute ball! Definitely one of the best days skiing I’ve had, and one of the best days recently in general. 

• Plus that whole weekend was just lovely, car camping in a campsite full of huge campervans was pretty fun :D I love the looks we get when people see the car and clearly wonder where we sleep. And we’ve got our setup perfected for winter now so both the nights were toasty. Friday night we had dinner in “bed” watching a movie, and Saturday night we sat in the little kitchen (the campsite has it open for everyone, but everyone else there has a camper, so it doesn’t seem to be used much) drinking tea and playing cards and ahh. Camping in the mountains. My ideal life eh? (though the weekend before this wonderful one, we got snowed in because it dumped over a metre over night completely unexpectedly and that was stressful as hell, but I think that’s a story for another day, if ever, I’m kind of trying to forget that day :’D) 

• Yesterday I also finally took the plunge and ordered new skis. Been debating for ages which ones to get but I’ve finally decided and I’m now very excited! 

• Ok this post so far reads as “work and skiing” which is pretty much what November and December were and probably what January is going to be too haha. Ben and I want to ski another week together end of January as well, and there’s some big exciting work things coming up as well. 

• Even though I have to admit, now that I’m on a break, I’ve spent a lot of time dreading work and questioning my career choices and all of that lark... sigh. I love my job most of the time, but I kind of hate having a job? If that makes sense? Sometimes (okay a lot of the time) I just wish I had more time for other things that I care about. But I also now I’m lucky to have that job, especially this year, and lucky to have a job I don’t hate, and get to do a lot of fun stuff on the side, even if it often means little sleep and downtime. 

• Speaking of things I care about, I was on a proper roll with writing for a few days before and after Christmas. It’s ebbed off again a bit, but it was still pretty cool, and my totally-useless-all-cheese-project is now 33,000+ words long and like, half-way there story wise. Had a lot of fun with that. 

• Lastly, Ben is still in England, and he’s coming back next Sunday, and I can’t wait! I miss him so much when we’re not together it’s actually silly. Although it’s less stressful this time than the last few times because... we live together, his work just offered him an unlimited contract from January, and I’m stuck here for another 2-3 years, so it looks like we’ll actually get to be in the same place for now. Which is all I wished for last year, and I’m so damn grateful - that stability really is the best thing 2020 has brought for me. And, as he said, even though we were apart for the start of the new year, it will hopefully bring more time together than any previous year ♡

• Okay I think this is long enough now, if you actually made it until here you’re a hero and I will try and post a bit more regularly again now to avoid this size of mind dump :’D I hope you all got into the new year alright, it feels very strange to me that it’s 2021 because I actually slept through midnight on new year’s for the first time since I was tiny haha but I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way! 

[redheadedteatotalfanfic]

You're the One, the Only (Ch. 1)

Chapter One:

Gina sat in a chair by the window in the front room of her grandparents’ house, trying her best to block out the noise going on behind her. She stared out the window, her mood as gloomy and bleak as the sky outside. She had zero interest in celebrating Christmas now that her Marine wasn't going to be here with her. When Kevin had called home for Thanksgiving, he'd explained how he'd deliberately not requested leave in the hopes that it would make it easier to get approved to come home for Christmas. She'd been fine with that, preferring it to spending time with him at Thanksgiving. He'd called day before yesterday and told her his chances of coming home for the holidays looked nonexistent. Her mood had soured, and she now just wanted to get tonight and tomorrow over with.

She had kept to herself despite her family's best efforts to cheer her up. She spoke when spoken to, but gave short perfunctory answers, and avoided looking at pictures and talking about favorite Christmases like her mom's side of the family did every year. She'd do the same tomorrow at her dad's, and hopefully go to bed early to get the day over with as quickly as possible. It wasn't the same without him here. Her only bright spot had come in the mail yesterday as his Christmas gift finally arrived. He'd gotten her the red Marines t-shirt she'd fallen in love with, along with a set of custom dog tags that had black silencers. She had both on today, hoping it would make her feel closer to him, but it hadn't worked. She glanced at her phone in her lap, he had promised to try and call tonight so they could at least hear each other's voice on their favorite holiday. But as the day dragged on it didn't appear that was going to be possible either. They normally talked at least three times a week, but all she'd gotten this week was the very brief phone call to tell her he wasn't coming home. She held out a small sliver of hope that he was saving the call for tomorrow.

A small package landed in her lap, and she looked up to see her little sister standing next to her chair with a cheesy grin. "Open it," she said.

"Not interested," Gina groused, handing it back. Since they were kids, they'd had a habit of opening one gift before dinner, as a way to tide them over until the adults were ready to open presents.

Casey refused to take it. "Trust me," she said. "You wanna open this one. You need what's in it."

With a frustrated sigh Gina ripped the paper open, revealing a packet of kleenex with a funny saying on them. She rolled her eyes and shoved them back into her sister's hand. "Very funny," she growled.

"Okay sourpuss, you don't wanna be nice go make yourself useful and start bringing the deserts in from the back porch," her mom said in the tone all mother's use when tired of their teenager's attitude. "And find a better mood while you're out there, hear me?"

"Gladly," Gina muttered, getting to her feet, and stuffing her phone in her back pocket.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen Casey shifted to a point where she could see her sister and began providing a play by play for the rest of the family. "Through the kitchen...opening the back door, and..."

There was a muted scream that made everyone laugh and both of Gina's sisters and their mom headed for the porch. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, his around her waist and her own around his neck. She would've stayed that way forever if her family would've let her. She pulled back, and they shared a quick kiss, knowing her grandparents would have issue with more than that. "C'mon, let's get back in the house," her mom said.

"When did you get here?" Gina asked.

"He took a red eye last night, we picked him up at the airport this morning and dropped him off at the hotel," Chris said. "We waited until he got here and got hid on the back porch before Case gave you the kleenex."

"I got a few hours sleep, and went and spent time with my family today," Kevin added. He dropped his tone to a murmur, making sure only Gina could hear him as he entered the house. "I'm all yours until I gotta go back the day after New Year’s."

"Two weeks," she murmured. She was unfazed at knowing he'd elected to spend most of the day with her family instead of his own, he hadn't had the greatest upbringing, and most of them had been furious at his choice to join the military to the point he'd severely limited his contact with them.

"Two weeks," he confirmed. "And a room at our favorite hotel."

She squeezed his hand as they passed through the kitchen and back into the living room. With Kevin here her entire demeanor changed, and she became the giggling goofball that her family knew her to be at this time of year. She sat down in one of the chairs and he sat on the floor in front of her, using her legs as a backrest. It gave them the excuse to touch each other without enduring any teasing.

"I thought for sure you'd cry, it's why I gave you the kleenex," Casey said.

"She called you a crybaby when she bought them," Chris added.

She laughed, unfazed by the ribbing. None of them noticed when her legs shifted so that they were over Kevin’s shoulders, and he had his arms wrapped around them. They made it through dinner, and she was surprised to see the small pile of presents her family had gotten him. She had left her own gift for him in her car and was now looking forward to giving it to him in person later instead of mailing it on the day after Christmas.

She had needed the kleenex when they'd been given identical boxes by her grandmother. "This has been a year in the making, and I had to enlist the help of both families. It should make it a little easier to be separated when he goes back to the base," she'd explained. "And I didn't get them mixed up."

They had each been given a quilt made of the other's t-shirts. What made it extra special was that some of the shirts used had some sort of meaning between the two of them. She didn't know about him, but it would definitely make it easier to sleep once he left again.

During a lull as the night began to wind down, her mom gently pulled her aside. "Don't mention anything about staying with him. Just make it look like you're gonna drop him off at the hotel on your way home, okay? Otherwise, you'll get an earful from them both," she said.

Gina nodded. "I can use needing to pick up his Christmas gift as an excuse," she said. "I'm surprised you're okay with him staying."

"You're nineteen and have your own place, there's not much I can do to stop you. Now you know why I questioned you about doing your laundry yesterday, though I still dunno why you bothered with your underwear," her mom teased.

"Ma!"

----------------

After getting all the gifts loaded into Gina's car and making a quick stop at a gas station to pick up enough snacks to last until the day after Christmas when everything would re-open they headed for the hotel. They pulled up to a stoplight and Gina pulled a small package from the center console, where she'd put it with the intention of mailing it the day after Christmas. She turned on one of the overhead lights and handed him the package. "Merry Christmas baby," she said. "It's gonna seem weird until I explain what it's for, but I promise you'll love it."

Kevin tore into the packaging and unwrapped a set of keys. "Keys?" He questioned. "Keys are usually a good thing."

"Uh huh," Gina agreed. "An incredibly good thing in our case. We're not staying at the hotel for two weeks."

"We aren't? Why?" He asked.

"Remember the pictures I sent of the house I told you my dad was looking at?" She countered.

"Yeah," Kevin said a split second before comprehension smacked him on the back of the head, and his expression changed from confusion to anxious disbelief. "No..."

Gina nodded. "Dad doesn't like the idea of us living in the dorms on campus, so he was planning to lease me an apartment like he did my sister. I don't like the thought of living squished in with other people, and I found this place not too far from school. It's nothing spectacular, but it's ours," she explained.

"Explains why your sister was so adamant about me only booking the room for one night until the two of us went back to the hotel. The last two words you said are all that matters. I don't care what it looks like or what's wrong with it, it's ours," he said. Kevin leaned forward and they shared a kiss just as the light changed. She reached up and shut off the light as they began to move again and he reached over and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of her palm before threading their fingers together. The streetlights allowed him to see her smile, and he sat watching her for the longest time.

She couldn't wait to get to the house and show him the trivial things that she'd yet to tell him about. She'd turned one of the smaller bedrooms into a studio of sorts, where she could write, and he could draw. The master bedroom had an en suite bathroom, and double closets, and she'd sectioned off part of the garage to make a little home gym. They would hit up the supermarket on the twenty-sixth and pick up the last few things needed to turn it from a house into a home.

When they left the hotel after picking up his bags and checking out, she gave up her keys to let him drive, something she knew he enjoyed and likely hadn't done since he left several months ago. She also gave him quick instructions on how to get to the house, smiling when he easily pinpointed the location. As Kevin drove towards the house she unbuckled her seatbelt, wiggled out of her hoodie and stretched out across the center console, pillowing her head on his thigh. Kevin knew she wasn't sleepy; she was satisfying her desire to want to do more than just hold his hand. She covered up with the hoodie, and after giving her a couple of minutes to get comfortable he slipped his hand under it with the intention of curling his arm over her ribcage. His fingertips were met by bare skin, and when his thumb brushed against the lower curve of her breast he realized she'd taken off her bra when she'd gone to the restroom at the gas station. "Touch me," she begged in whisper. "I want you so bad."

Kevin smiled as she voiced her desires, he'd been gently coaxing her to do so ever since their first time. When she'd sheepishly admitted she struggled with it because she was afraid of being laughed at, he'd kissed her forehead and explained that any man that laughed at his girl for telling him he was doing something she liked or didn't like wasn't really interested in pleasing his girl. He let his hand drift up her chest and brush over her soft peaks enjoying the soft moans she made in response. Kevin kept his touch light so that neither of them would get frustrated by having to stop when they got to the house. She growled low in her throat when he withdrew his hand, making him chuckle. "We're less than five minutes from the house," he said.

She fidgeted a moment, readjusting her clothes, and then sat up, wiggling back into the hoodie, and raking a hand through her hair. She decided that when they got home they'd get the car unloaded, she'd give him a quick tour of the house, and then spend the next several hours tangled up in bed. Gina was about to inform him of her plans when she suddenly remembered something she desperately needed to take care of before he saw it.

"I gotta tie up the bathroom a bit, need to shave," she said as they pulled in the driveway. "Haven't been keeping things quite as trimmed as I was before you left."

Kevin smiled, knowing she wasn't talking about her legs. "I packed my straight razor, want me to do it again?" He asked, hitting the button to open the garage door. He pulled in, putting the car in park, and shutting off the engine before turning in the seat to look at her.

She nodded with a smile. He had done it for her one other time, the first time she decided she wanted to go bare. Letting him take care of something so intimate had been an amazing experience, and she'd decided to always take him up on the offer should he ever ask again. "I wanna do what I did last time too, it felt so good afterwards," she said.

They got out of the car and got the bags and gifts from the backseat. Gina led the way inside. She put the snacks on the counter before leading him into the living room where a couple of photos caught his attention. Kevin stopped and looked around, seeing several of his belongings sprinkled throughout the room. "I went to your parents place and picked up all your stuff that your mom boxed up and put in the garage," she said, putting the gifts on the sofa.

His duffel bag slid to the floor and he turned to her with tears in his eyes. She'd done much more than that. Unhappy with his decision, his mom had pretty much kicked him out when he went to boot camp, clearing out his room and relegating his belongings to the garage for him to pick up as soon as possible. Her family had taken him in, to the point that her grandparents treated him like their fourth grandkid. Gina pulled him into a hug, and he silently sobbed in her arms. "Welcome home baby," she murmured.

She cuddled him for a few minutes and decided to forgo the tour for the time being. He needed to stop thinking about his family and the bullshit he'd endured since he made the announcement that he was joining the military. "C'mon, let's go unwind a while and celebrate being together in our new house," she murmured.

Kevin lifted his head and smiled, and they shared a quick kiss before he reshouldered his duffel and followed her towards the bedroom.

[softer-ua]

Two Left Feet, And One In The Mouth

Pt. 1

Lying there catching his breath seething Katsuki became suddenly aware of the feeling of melting iceberg quickly soaking his back, every drop replacing his already spread thin patients

Katsuki knew he need to hurry up and fix things with Deku, that he should go change into the spare clothes he kept in his office, that he had a much better chance of winning Deku over if he played nice with his friends, and he knew Shoto was only turning his hoodie into a impromptu sponge to piss him off and distract him from actually accomplishing any of that.

He also knew that it was fucken working.

Jumping up he felt his hoodie’s new weight pulling on him, the bastard had soaked him all the way through and the hoodie's fluffy inside was only making it worse, gross dirty floor water was fast spreading all the way down his pants and even through to his front.

Kasuki was seeing red, the only thought in his head was a vision of the Icyhot bastards head on a pike.

And that's how 15 minutes later he found himself standing in the meeting room sporting a few new bruises and dripping a puddle onto the floor, as he argued with ‘Lightning Mcqueen in glasses’ that he shouldn’t have to take the sole blame for ‘blowing up half the lobby’ or the charring on the lower branches of the lobby’s new ‘just set up yesterday, took all day to decorate, Sato ate half a snickers cheesecake just to get it in here, Tamaki and Ochako were so excited to put the star on, blah blah blah’ Christmas tree.

Those were clearly fire singe marks, not explosive blowback, and he told Mirio as much as he turned to blatantly ignore Iida. He also told him it was absolutely bullshit they had a tree up in the first week of fucken November!

Katsuki didn’t care to admit most of this blustering was to avoid admitting the main reason ‘a little bit of water set off a top ranking pro’ was because his brand Fucken new, curently one of a fucken kind, limited edition Hero Deku tee was hidden under his hoodie.

It was supposed to be part of the nerds Christmas present. His dad had just given it to him last night for a trial wear before they made the actual order to have enough made in time to be advertised and auctioned off to raise funds for the nerds favorite holiday charities.

Katsuki had planned to show up to dance practice in it after patrol and then do some photos together to boost the word about the dance and the auction.

Now not only was Deku not talking to him, but if he showed Deku this gross wrinkled mess he’d probably never speak to him again. Today officially sucked and all because ChargeDolt and RedRot couldn’t keep their fucken mouths shut... and some other things that were definitely not his fault either.

Eventually Mirio and Iida seem to tire themselves out and let the group go with a warning to expect their already packed schedules to be slammed with several hours of community service and outreach.

And of course Mirio asked Katsuki had to hang back because the universe hated him today. And of course he was given some more bad news because why would anything ever be easy?

Deku had been switched to evening patrol for today with Tokoyami, and Amajiki had agreed to take his place for the first half of the morning and Uraraka would join him after lunch

Katsuki wanted to bitch that they couldn’t reschedule because they had stupid dance practice, but between Deku not wanting to talk to him, no ‘don’t stay mad at me’ surprise, not wanting to explain to Deku what happened to the lobby, and not even a half baked explanation or apology in mind for why he said what he did Katsuki just grunted his acknowledgement and went to change into his costume. If anything he was getting off easier like this. At least Amajiki was on of the few extras he could stand.

_______________________________________________

If Mirios plan for punishment was to guilt him to the core by saddling him with a semi sulking SunEater, then he was an evil genius. Cause it was working, Katsuki hadn’t felt this all around ashamed since.… well probably only like a year but still.

Amajiki was one of the few people who Katsuki actually respected as a hero and a person, not only did the fellow pro have a kick ass quirk that he used creatively but Katsuki had grown to (begrudgingly) admire the hero for how up front he was with his anxiety and how hard he worked through it. It kinda reminded him of Deku and his oddballness and how the nerd used it to his advantage to become the symbol of hope.

Katsuki had been expecting a half mumbled lecture and a maybe even prodding about therapy. The nervous nellies' unusually strong(for them) vendetta with the hero world was it's slacking in mental healthcare or whatever.

So after struggling through about four hours of sullen silence, (that was also infuriatingly familiar, apparently heroing wasn’t all the nerd had learn from his senpais), Katsuki snapped with a screech like an overly taunt fiddle string.

“I’m sorry about the fucken tree! If it’s not replaced by the time we get back I’ll do it my goddamn self, happy?!” Katsuki had been expecting Tamki to give a quiet nod or retreat into himself more, depending on how he took his offer. He definitely didn’t expect to be glared at

“You think I’m upset about the tree?” Amajiki tilted his head in confusion. Maybe they should talk about Katsuki seeing the team's therapist more. Monthly was the minimum everyone on the newly forged Heros Union of Honor had to attend but Katsuki was clearly needing more support right now. Maybe it was the holidays? A good portion of them were going biweekly now for that reason.

HUH was more than an agency. It was a newly emerging code of ethics board. You were expected to be worth the honor of being called a hero when partnered with HUH, and that meant getting your mental health to its peak was a priority.

That didn’t mean everyone (or really anyone) was perfectly mentally fit, just that mental health was a priority. Other agencies had taken notice of how differently they operated even within their first year, and since then a few had even sent their heroes through the HUH program to learn how to operate more like them. They were quickly taking up the void the Hero's Commission had left.

“I’m not upset about the tree, I’m upset because you hurt my friends and fellow hero partners-“ Amajiki was rudely cut off as he caught a gauntlet to the chest, thank god they’d gotten smaller over the years.

“He’s your business partner, he’s MY hero partner, has been since before we agreed to join this agency.” Katsuki thundered.

Why everyone on the board had to call each other partners was something Katsuki didn’t understand, but he refused to let them slip up and start tossing around the phrase Hero Partner. They were all business partners,something anyone could become. A Hero Partner was a major commitment, and Katsuki had the signed legal waivers to prove it.

Amajiki stopped and looked at Katsuki fully, really taking in his teammates' rattled appearance.

Katsuki had been doing well, dare say even flourishing within HUH, so today’s outbreak was nearly out of character at this point and still Katsuki didn’t appear to be calming down any. If anything he was only growing more tightly wound.

Yes, Amajiki was upset with Katsuki but he’d remained silent during their patrol more so the blonde could have some time to think, but it didn’t seem to have done him any good. Amajiki fought through the nervousness that crawled under his skin and begged him to just let the explosive guy be.

Mirio had asked him to talk with Katsuki, under some false impression that Katsuki respected him more, but before this moment he’d figured it was better to not butt in. He hadn’t been around when this morning’s incident happened but he could see another one brewing.

Amajiki shuffled side to side for a second considering his options. He could just send Katsuki home early, even put him on leave until he got cleared by the teams therapist. Or he could do what Mirio suggested and reach out to a struggling teammate.

Therapy was good, but therapy with a support network was better.

“GroundZero, let’s take lunch. I think we need to have a talk-“ Amajiki put up a slightly trembling hand to silence the blonde. Straightening his back and furthering his resolve he pushed forward. “-This isn’t really optional, we neeeed to have a talk, and about more than this morning's incident. I wanna talk about your hero partner.”

Katsuki’s argument died on his tongue.  He shoved his hands in his pockets with a grunt and jerked his head to signal to Amajiki to take the lead.

Katsuki knew he wasn’t gonna like what came next but he tried to reminded himself that he trusted and respected Amajiki, and that meant hearing him out when asked. It’s what Deku would do, so it’s what Katsuki would try to do.

[ft-dads-au]

Part of the Family

A collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

Fairy Friendship Week 2020 Prompt: Secrets Pairing(s): Sting & Gray, Gray & Rogue, Sting x Rogue

AO3 | FF.Net

Summary: With Rogue's and Aki's birthdays coming up, Mika suggests that Sting and Gray go gift shopping together. Neither of them are excited about the idea, but it ends up being just the thing to bring them all closer together.

September 9, 2020

“That’s a great idea!”

The words burst out of Sting’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

It wasn’t a great idea.

In fact, it was one of the worst ideas Sting had ever heard. He was exhausted, having just got off what was supposed to have been a twelve-hour shift in the Emergency Room that had turned out to be more like fifteen, on top of not having gotten much sleep because the twins had been fussy all night.

He smiled at his mother-in-law warmly while scrambling for any excuse he thought she might accept that would get him out of a trip to the mall with his brother-in-law, who looked about as enthused with the idea as he felt.

“Wonderful!” Mika Fullbuster practically beamed at them, “I’ll feed the boys and get dinner ready for us while you’re gone.”

She picked up his son, Kuro, and cooed at him before placing him in a high chair next to his identical twin Haku. Gray’s son, Aki, watched with interest, although he kept close to his father.

Sting knew he was screwed when Gray remained silent, examining him with that glacial expression of his. “Okay, I’ll take a quick shower then. Be back in 10.”

He could hear Mika and Gray talking in low voices, Mika reminding her son that Rogue would probably like it if he got to know Sting a little bit better.

More than anything else, it was those words that motivated Sting to get in the shower and put on his best face because he knew she was right. Rogue loved his brother, had missed him all those years they had been on the outs, and now that Gray and his parents were a part of his life again, he wanted them all to become the family he never thought he’d have.

But Gray wasn’t exactly easy to get along with, and Sting was still irritated about how he had treated Natsu on the night of Lisanna’s birthday, not to mention how he’d dismissed Rogue all those years. Still, for Rogue, he could make an effort. The cold shower didn’t wake him up as much as he’d hoped, but he knew he wouldn’t have gotten out as quickly if he’d taken a warm one. Now he wasn’t just exhausted but also freezing cold and nervous, a far cry from what he’d been looking forward to when his shift was finally over. He passed the bed on his way from the bathroom to the closet and almost sobbed at how badly he wanted to get in it. “Come on Sting, you can do this!” he encouraged himself as he grabbed something comfy to wear and got dressed. “Go to the mall, get some birthday presents, have a chat with your brother-in-law...Can’t be too hard, right?”

It was incredibly hard.

Gray hadn’t said a word since the moment they’d left the house, and Sting had no idea what to say to get a conversation going. Almost everything he knew about the guy was off-limits to talk about, so they walked around the mall quietly, occasionally entering a store that looked interesting.

“Do you think Aki would like this?” Sting grabbed a colorful book thinking it would make a good birthday present for his nephew. He pushed some of the buttons on the front to see what kinds of sounds it made.

Gray shook his head, “He doesn’t like loud noises.”

“I wish I could say the same about the twins,” Sting groaned, placing the book back on the shelf, “just about every toy they have is loud.”

“Cana?” Gray asked, mouth stretching into a small smile.

“Well, she’s not the worst offender. That would have to be my parents,” Sting chuckled, “They’ve wanted grandkids since probably before I was born.”

Gray studied him briefly before turning his attention back to the shelf full of electronic board books. He moved away from them as he discovered the hardcover storybooks.

“He does like books though, tries to memorize them and pretend he’s reading them,” Gray added with a proud smile, “He could probably use some new ones.”

Sting thought Gray had a nice smile, it reminded him of Rogue’s. It was the first time he’d seen a real resemblance between the two brothers, outside of the dry wit they shared, and it made him warm up to him a little.

"Yeah, Rogue mentioned that.” He considered his next words for a moment, ultimately deciding he trusted Gray to be the kind of person who could keep a secret. “He’s uhm...taking a break from the stuff he usually writes to work on a book of fairy tales for kids. One of his college friends is doing the illustrations.”

“He’s writing a children’s book?” Gray asked, his voice sounding softer than Sting had ever heard it outside of speaking to Aki. He appeared stunned by the news but also something else.

Was it pride?

Sting thought it might be. The twinkle in his brother-in-law’s eye made him believe he was right.

“I kind of figured he’d write one of those mystery novels he always loved so much.” “Oh, he did. Published it under a pseudo a few years back,” Sting beamed, the swell of pride overtaking his fatigue for a brief moment. “Don’t tell anyone about the children’s book, though. He wants to keep it a secret because...well, you know your mom. Just act real surprised when Aki gets it for Christmas.”

They checked out some of the books together, flipping through the pages to see if the stories were fitting for Aki's age and whether or not they would appeal to him. Soon they'd decided on a few and headed to the register.

Sting grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, staring at its contents blankly for a moment. He took a card out and waited for the cashier to finish ringing up his purchases so he could place it in the reader. Trying to hide a big yawn he couldn’t quite contain, Sting inserted the card into the bottom slot when the reader prompted him. He waited to plug in his pin, thinking about how happy he was that they had managed to get one of the presents out of the way fairly quickly.

The card reader beeped at him, a message reading Card Declined displaying on the screen, much to Sting’s confusion. There should be plenty of money in there, he’d just gotten paid. But even knowing that, he could feel his cheeks darken with embarrassment as he saw the cashier glance at him surreptitiously.

He turned to see Gray’s eyebrow arched in silent question.

“I don’t understand,” Sting protested, “I’m sure there’s more than enough in there.”

“Are you sure about that?” Gray asked, looking somewhat exasperated.

“Yeah, I got paid yesterday,” he insisted. “I’ll just rerun it. Sometimes these things are flaky.”

“I don’t think it’s the reader that’s flaky,” Gray muttered under his breath.

“Let me just see it for a moment,” the cashier offered graciously, “Sometimes, you just have to wipe the chip a bit.”

Sting shrugged, handing the card over. There was something about it that seemed off, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“I think I see the problem,” the cashier said, and although his face remained serious, Sting could hear traces of laughter in his voice. “We do not currently accept Magnolia Hospital ID Cards as a valid form of currency.”

“What?” Sting could only gape in confusion as the cashier handed him back his ID Card.

“Long day?” Gray smirked, taking Sting’s wallet from his hand and grabbing his debit card, finishing up the transaction for him.

“You have no idea,” Sting muttered, finally entering his pin into the keypad and waiting for Gray to complete his purchase, pretending not to see that his brother-in-law was still laughing at him.

“Come on,” Gray said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“Coffee.”

He led them to the nearest coffee shop, where they each ordered a drink and a snack. Spotting an empty table, they quickly sat down.

“You know, if you were this tired, you could have just said no,” Gray sighed, shaking his head at him. “Mom isn’t that scary.”

Sting looked up, and having already shoved his chocolate chip muffin in his mouth, he shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Oy, take bites!” Gray griped, snorting at the crumbly mess he was making on the table, “I bet Rogue loves that.”

Sting laughed, easily picturing the look of distaste he’d receive from his husband if he’d been present. “He knew what he was getting into. Was he always so neat and tidy as a kid too?” he asked, eager to learn some things about Rogue from before they’d met each other.

“Kind of, not as bad as he seems to be now, though,” Gray mused, “He was always serious, with a very sharp tongue, but he could be a lot of fun too.”

He stared off into space and suddenly broke out in laughter, so hard that Sting began to worry for him. It stopped as soon as it started, but the amusement continued to play on his features. “I bet there’s one thing you don’t know about him, though.”

Sting leaned forward in his seat, eyes suddenly flying right open as he was dying for him to continue.

Gray’s whole face lit up with mischief, “Did you know that right up until the moment he was born, Rogue’s middle name was Ashley?“

“Ashley?” Sting repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yep,” Gray grinned, “Mom’s doctor insisted Rogue was a girl, something about the way she was carrying or whatever, and the ultrasound confirmed it, so we all thought he was a girl. For months my mom told me all about the new little sister I was going to have. She had Dad paint the nursery pink, coordinated all the crib sheets, bought the clothes, everything.”

“You can imagine my parents’ surprise when he was born. Everything they had was for a girl. You should ask my mom to show you his hospital pictures. They’re hilarious! My dad and I have never let him live it down,” Gray chuckled, “I still call him Ashley when I want to piss him off.”

At first, Sting was just boggled by the fact that a doctor would predict a baby's gender from the way the mother was carrying, and how, even back in the early ’90s, an ultrasound managed to support that statement. But when he imagined what those pictures would look like, not to mention Rogue’s face when he’d ask his mother-in-law about them later- which he totally would- he almost choked on his muffin from his laughter. “I should buy him some extra gifts,” he giggled, “I have a feeling I’ll need them to get in his good graces again later.”

“He had a figure skating phase too,” Gray continued, “I was a hockey nut, so I loved to tease him about it, but the truth was he was terrific. Very graceful. I was kind of surprised to see he got rid of the ice rink in the backyard. Maybe now that we’re all back, we can set it back up,” he added.

"I knew about the figure skating. He made sure to show off the first time we went skating together because I ran my big mouth but completely sucked at it."

“Well, he does love to show off.”

“I’m glad you two made up,” Sting confided, getting carried away by the moment they were sharing. “He really missed you.”

He realized too late that it had been the wrong thing to say as Gray only nodded and then went right back to being quiet, but Sting didn’t let that bother him. He’d seen a different side of his brother-in-law, and he was confident that with time they could become good friends.

They finished their coffee and shopped for birthday presents for Rogue for another hour before calling it a night. Gray drove them back to the house to let Sting rest. When they arrived, Mika had already finished cooking, and the boys were playing quietly in front of the TV.

"Wow, looks like you had a successful trip!" Mika smiled happily at the shopping bags they were carrying, "and you're right on time for dinner!"

Sting was happy to see Rogue had gotten home as well, and even more delighted when he stopped setting the table to greet him with a hug and a kiss.

"You look really tired," Rogue fretted, frowning at the mark left on Sting's cheek by the zipper of his coat when he'd fallen asleep in the car. "Go sit. I’ll plate up for you."

"You're the best-" Sting flopped down on one of the dining room chairs, watching fondly as Rogue started scooping rice onto his plate. It was a small effort, but he thought it was really sweet, and it almost made him think twice about his next words.

Almost.

"Thanks, Ashley."

Between Gray's loud snort, Mika's knowing grin, and the look of horror that started to spread across Rogue’s face, Sting could honestly say that the unexpected shopping trip, exhausting as it was, had definitely been worth it.

"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" Rogue fumed at Gray, only managing to contain his outrage for the sake of the kids.

“He’s family now, isn’t he?” Gray’s attempt to sound innocent only riled Rogue up further. “Relax, Squirt, there’s lots of stuff I didn’t tell him. Like the time you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Rogue seethed, much to everyone’s amusement, but when he looked around the room, he suddenly became skittish. "Wait…where did mom go?"

"Right here," Mika answered as she appeared from the hallway, carrying a large photo album and an even larger smile on her face. She sat down next to Sting, who knew exactly what was going to happen, as his own mother had put him through a similar skit once.

"Let's see-" she pulled a curious Aki onto her lap, completely ignoring the protests of both her sons as she started flipping through the pages.

"Look how cute your daddy used to be when he was little," she told Aki, pointing at some of the pictures of Gray when he was the same age. "He looked just like you, but he always managed to take off his clothes wherever we went."

Sting tried but failed not to laugh as he saw her finger pointing at a picture of a much younger looking Silver holding what appeared to be a bunch of children's clothes as he chased an almost naked Gray across the playground. “Dada,” Aki bubbled at the picture and the others on that page.

Meanwhile, Rogue had finished piling food onto Sting’s plate and went to put the twins back into their high chairs before they’d start protesting the fact that everyone else had left them to gather at the dining table. He finished just in time to see Mika turn the page, much to Gray’s relief and amusement, because the next set of pictures were made at the hospital. Rogue could only groan as Sting went off in what could only be described as a laughing fit at the sight of his first baby pictures, in which he was dressed in pink from socks to bonnet.

“See Gray’s face? He was actually a little disappointed when we told him he didn’t get a sister after all, “ Mika chuckled. “He was so proud of the pink frog plushie he’d picked out as a welcoming gift, and he was worried his brother wouldn’t like it.” “The opposite was true, though,” she continued, smiling at Rogue as she continued to spill more embarrassing moments from his childhood. “You had it with you all the time. The one time you lost it, you wouldn’t stop crying and refused to leave the park without it. Dad searched for half an hour in the pouring rain before he finally found it.” “He still has it,” Sting revealed, returning Rogue’s pout of betrayal with an innocent smile. “It’s sitting on a shelf in our bedroom.” “Gee, when I saw how exhausted you looked, I didn’t think I was getting screwed today. Guess I was wrong.” “Rogue!” Mika was quick to scold her son. “What? It was kid-proof.”

Gray cackled in appreciation at Rogue’s snide remark, his grin withering when his mother flashed him a disapproving glare. He coughed uncomfortably and shifted his attention back to his brother, “You still have it? I thought you’d said you lost it.”

“Don’t get full of yourself,” Rogue crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked away. “I happened to find it when I was cleaning out the basement a while back.”

Sting knew that was some high-level bs, but he let it go, enjoying the back and forth between the two brothers. Judging from the pleased expression on Mika’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

“Suuuure you did,” Gray teased, marching towards their bedroom with an air of purpose, “I’m gonna go see it.”

“Don’t you dare put your grubby hands on Frosch!” Rogue yelled, chasing after him.

“You named it Frosch?” Sting snickered, although he had to admit it sounded incredibly cute.

“Shut up!” Rogue complained, “I was little.”

“Boys!” Mika scolded, turning to Sting to explain. “Gray ended up loving Frosch just as much as Rogue. He’d sneak into Rogue’s room and take it back to his room.”

“No I didn’t!” Gray denied, “I remember stealing or hiding it just to mess with him. It was hilarious, watching him have a complete meltdown.”

Rogue stuck his tongue out at his brother, acting more childish than Sting had seen in a long time. It was both endearing and amusing as hell.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Bro,” Gray replied, walking over to Rogue and bravely ruffling his hair.

“Rogue wasn’t the only one having a meltdown,” Mika retorted, quietly enough that only Sting could hear her.

“Ugh, just wait until you start dating someone. I am telling them everything,” Rogue promised.

Gray laughed heartily, “Good luck with that. I have zero intention of dating anyone.”

“That’s a shame,” Sting sighed, “you and Natsu looked pretty cute slow-dancing together the other night.”

“That was not what that was,” Gray sputtered, “That was just me comforting a friend.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re friends now?” Rogue immediately pounced on Gray’s words.

“No, I-we are friendly-ish, uhm…friend adjacent? Whatever! He’s still a pain in my ass!” Gray attempted to clear things up, but at hearing that, Sting and Rogue glanced at each other and cracked up.

“Oh my God, get your minds out of the gutter, that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

But it was too late. Sting and Rogue only laughed harder at Gray’s outrage.

“Who’s Natsu?” Mika interrupted, completely lost as to what was happening.

“Gray’s source of butthurt-” Rogue pulled out his phone and looked through his image gallery, showing his mother a picture of their friend.

“Oh, he’s cute! You should ask him out, sweetie,” Mika encouraged her older son, as Aki gave them all a tentative smile from his spot on his grandmother’s lap.

“Look what you started,” Gray glared at Sting accusingly, “Now I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Well, you said it yourself. I’m family now, aren’t I?” Sting bounced Gray’s words back at him, patting him on the back, “That’s what family’s for!”

Sting and Mika laughed at Gray’s less than enthusiastic response and Rogue’s triumphant smirk.

It was a fantastic feeling to no longer be watching from the sidelines like he usually did, but to actually take part in this moment and give as good as he got. It wasn’t something he was used to, having grown up as an only child.

And it was with a start that Sting realized that while he’d grudgingly agreed to go on the shopping trip with Gray hoping to befriend him, somehow in the last couple of hours, they’d become brothers instead.

[inner-dreamscape]

Pink Skies pt. 2

Title: Sirens

Part One

Also posted on AO3

The electrical buzzing of the blinking 'VANCANCY' sign outside the motel was hypnotizing. Chuuya stared blankly down at his hands, splayed open in the red light, then splayed out in the darkness when the sign blinked back off again. Again and again, his hands appeared in a haunting cycle, each time the same. Nothing changed. Nothing he did afterwards changed the fact that his hands were stained red.

It was a day to celebrate but Chuuya couldn't fathom the happiness the others felt at his first successive kill. He had to leave. He had to escape. So, he ran back to the motel room the first opportunity he got and he spent the next two hours burning his skin under a hot shower and wasting all the soap in trying to clean the red from his hands. But no matter what he did, he couldn't erase it. Couldn't wash the stink and the stickiness away. That red clung to his skin as if that person's soul haunted him for what he had done.

His hands trembled, or maybe it was his entire body. He didn't know. He wanted to cry but the shock and disgust and the urge to scream all warred within him that no tears were able to be shed. So he just sat there, on the floor next to the single bed, staring at his hands. He couldn't look away from them, didn't want to look away. Afraid that looking away would dismiss the act that he had committed. That it would devalue a human's life even if that human was rotten to the core.

He didn't know how long he had stayed there but before he knew it, the sun was rising and the red light was washed out. The only thing left were his clean palms.

Just like that.

--

Chuuya peeled a hand away from hugging his knees to stare down at them. Without his gloves on, they were the same as back then, clean and devoid of any blood. But he knew better.

The guy he managed to track down went down easily enough. It was easy to set his death up like a suicide. So wracked with guilt about putting an innocent man in critical care that he ended up hanging himself. Too late to be saved before the cops descended on him to arrest him for the drunken hit and run. He only hated that he couldn't have made a mess out of him, for Dazai.

For Oda.

It's been a whole week since Oda got out of critical care. Ango and Kunikida have been taking turns watching over the kids, with Dazai helping out whenever he wasn't by Oda's side at the hospital. The first 3 days, it took both him and Ango to drag Dazai out of the hospital room in order for Chuuya to take him home to sleep. It became easier to convince Dazai to leave once Oda woke up to tell him himself.

True to Chuuya's prediction, the first meal Oda asked for was curry. Thankfully, the nurse scheduled was able to dissuade him from breaking doctor's orders. From then on, all the nurses assigned to him had to keep an eye on the visitors to make sure none of them brought in contraband food. They kept a very strong eye on Ango, much to the man’s chagrin.

Despite the emergency surgery Oda had to go under, he escaped the crash with internal abdominal injuries, a broken arm and leg, bruised ribs and a heavy concussion. He would have to undergo physical therapy once his arm and leg healed, but the doctors were hopeful that there wouldn't be any lasting damage. Chuuya was glad. He didn’t know how he would have handled Dazai if there had been lasting damage. The scars and disabilities reminders about how they both had failed to protect family.

The noise from the shitty TV suddenly rose in volume as the characters on screen screamed at each other. He wasn't really paying attention to it, having it on as background noise. It was one of those rare days that their neighbors were away and the floor was blessedly silent. The thin walls left little to the imagination and privacy a thing to be missed. But that night, he couldn't take it. The silence. So, the TV was on.

It helped to distract his raging nerves and anxiousness. But it could only help for so long. Flipping through the limited channels, nothing caught his attention that he could fully immerse himself in. Even the game system he and Dazai scrimped and saved up for, for a joint Christmas present to themselves (and to be honest, the kids for when they visited), didn't seem enticing. He sat there, watching the over acted drama play out on the small screen. By the time the protagonist was making her exit, he had fully chewed his thumb nail down to the skin.

His partner was still visiting Oda and would probably stay there until the nurses kicked him out after visiting hours were over. Maybe he had time to go out and buy some cheap wine before Dazai came back. He had finished his stock yesterday, using liquid courage to help him finish his plan. Perhaps he could get drunk and go to bed early, forget about today and not worry about tomorrow. He means, Dazai knew he was planning something like this right? Chuuya wasn't part of the goody-goody two shoes agency so he didn't have to feel guilty over what Dazai would think. If anything, he knew almost exactly what Dazai would think. That wasn’t the problem. No. What was the problem was that he killed when he didn't have to. He killed when he promised Oda that he wouldn't become a killer like the rest of the gang. He killed when he knew for a fact that Oda wouldn't have wanted him to kill the guy that ran into him. He would have wanted Chuuya to leave it to the police and let the justice system get justice for him.

But he had promised Dazai first. He had promised himself first. That he would do anything in his power and position to keep the two of them safe from the shadows of the underworld. He stayed in the Port Mafia to thwart any and all future attempts at the two traitors should they become a target again. He stayed to keep an eye on other organizations that might deem the agency an enemy.

Dazai might argue that Chuuya was doing exactly what he was supposed to do. Nothing more and nothing less. Chuuya would be deeply inclined to agree with his partner.

Still. What was done, was done and Chuuya had to live with that for the rest of his life. He was prepared to carry that burden. Maybe he could coerce Dazai into keeping this fact a secret between them. What's one more amongst many?

His other thumb nail was gone now too. His spiraling thoughts had taken him out of the false calm he had acquired from the mindless reality TV he had settled on. He was fidgety. Angsty. He couldn't quite stop the bouncing of his leg as he stared hard at the grainy screen. God, if only he had a cigarette to chew on…

"I'm home!" Chuuya strangled a curse. He let it loose anyway once he saw the blood beading up on his thumb.

Dazai stood in the genkan, brown eyes focused on him as he removed his shoes. Chuuya ignored him, sticking his thumb in his mouth to suck the blood away. He made a face at the metallic flavor that coated his tongue. He didn’t think he had bitten so hard.

"Chuuya's not going to say 'Welcome home'?" Dazai whined, hefting the takeout bag onto the coffee table. "Even after I went out of my way to bring him food?" He directed a pout at the redhead, hoping for some sympathy.

"Welcome home, asshole." Chuuya grumbled, rummaging through the food containers to sort out their own. It was Dazai’s turn to pick up food anyways, so he got no pity from him.

"Hm."

It was Chinese that night. Peeking into each of the cartons, he found sesame chicken, pork fried rice, white rice, kung pao beef, egg rolls and some lin yueng bau. He claimed the fried rice, kung poa and lin yueng bau for himself, pushing the rest to the other side of him for Dazai. He dug in.

"Chuuya." Dazai called, still standing from the spot beside the couch.

He grunted, mouth stuffed with spicy kung pao and eyes glued to the TV. He knew that tone of voice. He was the ‘we need to have a serious talk’ voice because they were doing that now. Talking. No more secrets between them, they had decided. He was going to try to waylay the inevitable but Dazai hadn’t been known as the Demon Prodigy for nothing.

"Chuuya." Dazai called again, reaching a hand out to turn the red heads face towards him.

Chuuya swallowed down his food, lips pulling down into a frown. "What."

Dazai stared at him intently, getting that furrow between his brows when he was displeased with something. The look made Chuuya bristle. A callus free thumb swiped the splattering of sauce off of puffy lips. A pink tongue couldn't help but dart out and lick the digit. Appalled at his own tongue, Chuuya ripped his chin away from Dazai's soft hands.

"What?" He asked again, annoyed.

"What's wrong with Chuuya." And wasn't that a loaded question.

"Nothing's wrong with me. Sit down and eat already." He took his own advice and went back to eating.

Dazai sat down, but didn't make any moves to eat. He was still staring at Chuuya and Chuuya had no doubt in his mind that Dazai was figuring things out. He always did. He was the only person in the whole world who understood him to his core and he him in return. So he knew that Dazai was gearing up to have a serious talk, but honesty? Chuuya didn't want to have it. Yeah, he knew he would have to discuss this at some point, but not right now. Not tonight. His refusal to look at Dazai signified that.

The slender hand reached out again, this time, grabbing for the takeout carton. Chuuya made a noise a protest, but ultimately had to let it go if he didn't want the beef and bell pepper to fall from his chopsticks. He watched as the container was set back onto the table with the rest of the food. He slowly ate the rest from his chopsticks to prolong the conversation.

"You killed someone." Dazai stated, not asked. Because he knew. Chuuya didn't have to ask how he came to that conclusion. Dazai's seen him plenty of times after missions where he was forced to kill someone in self-defense and Chuuya was exhibiting those habits right in front of him. "Who was it?"

"No one you know." His leg started bouncing again. ‘When had it stopped?’

"Liar."

Chuuya glared. "It's true! It's not someone you know." Technically it was true. Dazai didn't know that guy's name. Chuuya didn't know either but to-ma-to, to-mah-to.

"But I know of them. You're more…keyed up than usual. That only happens when it's someone we have in common." A light seemed to go off in his head. "It was that guy."

"What guy?" His heart beat faster. He knew.

"The one that hit Oda." One look at Chuuya's face confirmed his answer. He smirked lightly. "I'm right."

"Whatever." He mumbled, reaching for the food.

Dazai stopped him. Chuuya groaned, leaning back into the couch.

"How did you do it?" Chuuya didn't like the look that infiltrated those brown eyes. ‘He shouldn’t have those thoughts’ he remembered thinking once. More than once because old habits die hard, and yes it was a habit. Until Dazai taught himself better, he knew the other would still be having them. And hadn’t that been the part of the reason he had stayed in the Port Mafia in the first place? To protect the both of them but also to help foster that new outlook on life; that life was worth something more than the pain and suffering of others at your hands.

Discussing this situation was going to be hard without bringing Dazai’s bloodlust back out from wherever it was buried. But Dazai had agreed to Chuuya’s terms of handling the guy himself, so it was a start.

"No. We are not going to talk about this. I'm not going to tell you how."

"I can always look it up." He threatened.

"Not if I ask you not too. And not if you want to keep this just between us." Chuuya fired back.

"Are you?"

"What? Going to ask you not to look it up?" Dazai nodded.

Chuuya remained silent, thinking about his answer. He wanted to say yes. Keep everything buried deep down under, and he knew that Dazai would take his request seriously. But that's how things ruined. It would fester and fester until it was eating him up inside. Until there was nothing else left inside him. Didn't they say the best thing for a wound to heal was to let it breathe?

Letting Dazai look up the information saved him from having to say everything out loud. And wasn't he just a right coward for thinking it in actuality.

He wasn't a coward.

"No. No I'm not." And Dazai smiled at him, pleased. They've come a long way into their relationship. "But I am asking that you not do it right away. I'll tell you. Later. Just…not right now, okay?"

"Okay." Dazai slid the hand that was holding Chuuya's arm, down until he was holding Chuuya's hand in his own. He gave the smaller one a reassuring squeeze. "That’s all I ask."

Chuuya silently nodded.

"Are you still hungry?" Their food was probably already cold.

"Not that much, no." He lost most of his appetite at the mention of his heinous deed.

The leg that was not curled up on the couch supporting their hands was still bouncing. It stilled briefly at the heavy sigh that escaped from Dazai. The other's hand left his for a moment, fishing in his back pocket for something. Chuuya silently missed the warmth.

Dazai pulled out an unfamiliar packet of cigarettes. He shook one out, gripping it with his mouth and pulling before shaking another out and offering it to Chuuya. It strangely reminded Chuuya of the morning in front of the hospital.

‘A lot of things are.’

Curiously, he took the cigarette, holding it up to his nose to sniff it. There was a fruity scent about it, different from the spice and tobacco from their usual. Seeing the question on his partner's face, Dazai told him, "They're new. The company just came out with them a month ago; fruit flavors. That one's strawberry." The painted ring underneath the filter was red. Looking over, Dazai's was yellow. Lemon.

Dazai pulled out a lighter and lit his, taking a deep breath to get the smoke going. The scent of lemons surrounded them as smoke escaped those parted lips. Intrigued and impatient, Chuuya leaned forward with his own cigarette tucked between his lips, pressing the tip against the smoldering end of Dazai's.

He didn't notice the deep inhale from Dazai, or the widening of his brown eyes. Instead, he focused on keeping the tips pressed together, trying to light his own. After a few seconds, the cigarette started catching. He moved back a little to see if it was enough when his eyes caught Dazai's. Blue eyes took in the heated look that covered Dazai's face.

The scents of lemon mixed with strawberry wafted into their noses as Chuuya's started burning. Slowly, Dazai reached out to pluck the stick from Chuuya's mouth and his own before crashing his lips onto the shorter.

Chuuya could have sworn he heard Dazai mutter into his mouth, "Beautiful" as he returned the kiss.

The kissing didn't last long and the strawberry stick was shoved back into his mouth. Rolling his eyes, he took a drag, tasting the flavor on his tongue. It was tart from the taste of Dazai and lemon, and Chuuya couldn't bring himself to hate it.

"I like the strawberry." He said at last, taking another taste.

He felt a weight on his left side as Dazai tipped over, resting his head on Chuuya's shoulder.

"Hm, I like the lemon." Dazai smiled, releasing the smoke in Chuuya's face.

"It's sour like you, no wonder." The redhead teased.

"And you're red, your point?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Shut up, shitty mackerel."

They spent the rest of the evening bickering and watching trash TV, cuddled into each other. They didn't talk about the drunk driver again that night, thankfully. When they crawled into bed around 2 in the morning Chuuya felt like himself again. He peeled his hands away from Dazai's back to look at them once more. They were clean. Sighing, he cuddled Dazai closer to himself, burying his face into fluffy brown hair. There will always be blood on his hands, whether they were clean or not, but he had Dazai there to help with the burden of it. That was all he could ask for.

The distant sound of sirens, filtered faintly into their bedroom.

[leiascully]

The Wong End of the Telescope

By @agirlcalledNarelle: submission for Angst fic exchange in Apr 2020. Prompt was ‘Mulder and Scully on the run angst’! Trigger warning: suicide reference, disordered eating. How did Mulder & Scully end up in the UH?

6,8K words. Here on AO3

Cotton candy pink grazed the tops of the darkened hills. It was the hour of magical thinking, when dreams fuse with reality and imaginary adventures are tethered once more by the earth’s physical laws. Scully pulled up at a trailer park, her eyes on the dirt track in front of her rather on the hills above. The energy of the hour moved around her like the parted Red Sea.  Mulder stirred beside her, stretching his arms over his head, and wiped spittle from the side of his mouth.

‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse from sleep. He looked at her in a daze, so boyish and trusting, having slept for the last seven hours. She wanted to reach over and stroke his warm, pink cheek, but instead she sat on her hands and stared outside.

‘Crockett, Texas.’

‘Why?’

‘Sun was coming up,’ she answered tersely. ‘It meets the criteria, and we’ve been on the go for over 12 hours.’

The sky was now a cloudless blue. Dry air promised a hot day ahead. Their last town had been in flat and endless prairie country. Scully had ached to see mountains, the hodgepodge of nature competing for survival, so she subconsciously delivered them to a town surrounded by hills in the neighbouring national park. She used to like arriving. She would enjoy discovering what made each town tick, uncovering their customs and values, until she realised every place was the same in that they would one day leave it behind.

The door to the trailer park reception opened and a dishevelled woman eyed them suspiciously.

‘We don’t open til 7,’ she called, her features distorted with annoyance. ‘Y’all will just have to wait til then.’

Scully looked at her watch: it was 6:55am. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully got there first.

‘That’s fine, we can wait. Thanks for letting us know.’ She attempted a smile, but it sat foreign on her lips. The woman said nothing and closed the door.

‘It’s only five minutes, Scully,’ Mulder muttered, kicking the gravel. ‘I’m sure she could have sprung us a key.’

‘What’s the point in drawing attention to ourselves?’ Scully replied sharply. ‘We just got here. I don’t want to have to leave before we’ve even had breakfast because you’ve gone and made yourself all memorable. We’re living by your rules, you know.’

Yesterday, she had returned to their trailer to find Mulder urgently packing the car. Gotta move, he had said. The Sheriff had come into the store where Mulder worked stacking shelves, and Mulder didn’t like the way he’d answered the Sheriff’s innocent questions. Felt there was too much room for scrutiny, and he got his feeling. The feeling when someone looked at them for too long or asked too many follow up questions. Before she’d had a chance to shower, they were leaving town.

At precisely 7am, the sign on the door of the lodge switched from Closed to Welcome! We’re open. Scully paid in cash for a week while Mulder sulked by the car. She left him to carry in the bags while she entered the stuffy trailer in search of the bed.

*

She found work a café off a main road which offered all-day breakfasts for the laborers, and milkshakes and relative privacy for the high schoolers. The first time Mulder had been a fugitive, the Lone Gunmen had set up a couple of bank accounts in different names for him to access. Now they were nearing the end of their second year on the run as a pair, and without the Gunmen’s help, they worked to supplement themselves. As Mulder liked to say, their opportunities dried up as quickly as the money in those accounts.

Ed, the manager, had thought Scully would be perfect for front of house. She preferred something along the lines of washing dishes and his expression revealed that it wasn’t the first time he’d received such a request. He’d looked her up and down and nodded slowly. Shift is 6am to 2pm, 6 days a week, Ed said daringly, you think you can handle that?

Scully filled up the sink on her first day when a boy entered, skinny, with mousy brown hair in need of a trim. He slipped an apron over his standard teen uniform of black jeans, band t-shirt and converse. She guessed he was 17, maybe 18 years old. He stopped still at the sight of her.

‘Who are you?’ His voice was both deep and weedy, still adjusting to itself.

‘Denise.’ Another of Mulder’s rules: keep the same initial. Easier to roll off your tongue. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Chet. I’m the morning waiter until 2pm, when Sasha’s in.’ He reached across her to wash his hands. It had been a while since someone other than Mulder has stood in such close proximity. Feeling crowded, she inhaled quickly and concentrated on tying her hair up. ‘You’re different to the last washer.’ Scully didn’t say anything. ‘You new in town? Did you just arrive?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Scully busied herself with the pots, and Chet took the hint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the shift.

‘Do you think it will work?’ Mulder asked when she returned 8 hours later, accompanied by the smell of cooking oil. The afternoon was caught under a bell jar, hot and still. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with newspapers spread in front of him, looking for any information that could potentially threaten them. Scully was sure that, should she ever ask him, he wouldn’t be able to articulate exactly what he was looking for.

‘It’s fine.’ She removed her shoes and sat on the end of the bed. Her feet were humming from the day’s work followed by the 3 mile walk back. ‘Same as that place in Burlington.’

‘Kansas?’

‘Sure.’ She crawled fully onto the bed and tucked her hand under the pillow, her back to Mulder.

‘Good. The more anonymous the better.’ Mulder pulled the papers from under her. ‘It looks like there are two local newspapers, but the most popular one here is USA Today.’

‘Well that’s a surprise.’

‘Whatever, Scully. I’m not doing this for fun.’ She felt him lie down next to her. The hairs on her back stood to attention, hoping he wouldn’t touch. The silence between them was a black hole, and Scully jumped right in.

‘I found work at a local motel. They’re renovating for Summer.’ Mulder said quietly after a few minutes.

‘Ok.’ Scully stayed on her side.

‘I stocked up at the store, so we don’t have to go for a little while. Do you want anything to eat?’

‘No.’ She closed her eyes against the daylight.

*

The mirror in the trailer was placed such that she could only see her shoulders up. Mulder had to crouch to see himself, and Scully very nearly had to stand on tiptoes. Before, this would have made her laugh.

Around her 40th birthday, she had gone through a phase of avoiding mirrors altogether, but now she studied her reflection with interest. Her pronounced clavicle snaked around the bottom of her neck like two thin arms buried under the skin threatening to strangle her. Feathery lines sat under her eyes from months of squinting at the road. Her cheekbones slid into shadowed gorges and levelled out to her soft chin, slack and furry with little hair. Freckles splattered like paint on a pale canvas. Grey dominated the natural auburn at her temples so that when she pulled her hair into a ponytail her mother’s face gazed back at her. The first time she saw the likeness she had gasped, remembering her father sitting next to her Christmas tree, little Emily asking to be set free in a wooden church. From then on, her hair was always down unless at work.

Mulder made her wear a baseball cap when she was out. If she dyed her hair, she was allowed to leave the cap at home. The idea of being anything other than a shade of red panicked her: this was her last thing. She was already hollowed out, a tinman pretending to have a heart. If she lost her hair colour, she felt she would finally rust over and be lost forever. What else did she have left?

*

Scully was scrubbing stubborn scrambled eggs from a large frying pan. The effort made her arm ache, and she felt slightly dizzy. Though they had shared fewer than 10 sentences since she started a week ago, she welcomed a break when Chet walked quickly into the kitchen.

‘Trade places with me,’ He said urgently. She looked at him properly for the first time. His head was ducked, chin covered in the duckling fluff of a teen too keen to prove his maturity. He was tall, she realised. She hadn’t realised how tall, given his movements were soft and quick. She wondered what his mother felt when she looked at him.

‘Why?’ She asked suspiciously. ‘I need to stay back here.’

‘Please, would you just do it for me?’ He pleaded. Scully scanned the room to see a table of girls laughing over their menus.

‘You want to avoid those girls?’

‘Something like that,’ Chet mumbled, cheeks flushed. Scully sighed and took the apron out of his hands, her palms sweaty with nerves. She took their order and found she had forgotten how to move her face. Her reactions felt too big, too staged. She tested her limits by taking another order from another girl sat by herself. When she returned to the kitchen, Chet had scrubbed off the remaining egg.

‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully. 

‘I’m not going to do it again,’ she snapped, snatching the brush from his hands. He left, and she leaned against the sink, hating herself for snapping. After almost three years on the run, her ability to make connections was off. She wrapped her right thumb and middle finger around her left wrist, measuring its circumference. Her wrist didn’t touch the fingers, and she was pleased when she could circle her wrist freely their grip. The bubbles in the sink crackled as they burst, slowly revealing a yellow glob of egg.

*

She would wake before Mulder to get to the café on time. He slept soundly, in a way he never could previously, on his back with an arm over his head. The conspiracy hadn’t been enough: he needed to be fully consumed by something, eaten, removed from life as he knew it, before he found peace.

He was enjoying his current line of work. She could tell because he once described the paint brush gliding like a toboggan, or by his swagger as he removed his t-shirt after a day of manual labour. Previously he was all about exposing the designs of others; now he was the creator. He was proud of himself. She had picked a hangnail on her pinkie, dry from constantly being in water, as he told her a tale about some wood and nails. Or it might have been shelves and a spirit level. She hadn’t listened too closely, knowing that whatever he found here would last only as long as he felt safe. Soon the time would come when his house of cards would fall.

*

‘What are you doing here, anyway, Ms Denise?’ Chet asked her. He was standing in the doorway, at a loose end. Rain kept the breakfast regulars away. Scully’s wet ponytail was plastered down her back and her soaked t-shirt stuck to her leggings. Her hipbones, sharp and round like pin heads, pressed against the sink as she leaned over, missing the usual padding of a dry t-shirt. They would bruise by the end of the day.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked flatly. With no customers, she kept busy by dismantling and cleaning the fat fryer.  

‘Just that.’ Chet helped her remove one of the baskets. ‘Why did y’all come to Crockett? To work in a café? What’s the story?’

‘No story. Just in need of a job.’

‘No story.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re here just because you need a job. All on your lonesome.’

‘Yep.’ She popped the ‘p’ sound at the end.

‘My uncle had a friend who just turned up out of nowhere,’ Chet said. ‘Turns out he had two different families over in Louisiana. Weren’t long before he got sprung and had to go back. Now he’s awaiting trial for polygamy.’

‘So what?’ Her forehead suddenly prickled with sweat and she wiped it with her wrist. She met his gaze and held it in a silent threat.

‘Nothing’s never nothing, s’all I’m saying.’ Chet left to serve a customer, and Scully exhaled shakily. The oil mixed with the soap in the sink to create rainbows on the slimy surface. This kid was smart. A liability best kept to herself for now.

*

Scully ate an apple each morning as she meandered down the dirt roads to work, its crunch made louder by the darkness. She emptied her mind and savoured her surroundings, appreciating each ditch in the road, and the way a particular shrub resembled a sheep as she passed the ‘Welcome to Crockett!’ sign. Sporadic streetlights illuminated her solitary figure like the beacon of a lighthouse.

They had started out as crusaders, underdogs who would come out on top having prevented the end of the world. However, it was clear a few weeks in that without FBI resources, and the very real talents of the Gunmen, they were doomed to exist on the fringes of society, chasing wicker men. On their first night running she had told Mulder that she wouldn’t accept defeat if he didn’t, a memory that now makes her prickle with discomfort. That Scully is a high school student scribbling love hearts on her exercise books. That Scully doesn’t realise that unconditional love is actually anguish, pain, boredom, compromise, rage, sacrifice, not just sometimes but all the time until you’re so far in you can’t see where you stop and the other begins.

She used to feel like Mulder was the one holding the other end of the rope. But while they had been distracted buying cheap second-hand cars with high mileage, crossing state lines, eating store-bought sandwiches in the middle of the night, the rope had frayed and snapped. They each still had their end, but their futile attempts to mend it hurt so much that after a while, she just stopped trying.

*

‘Scully?’

My name, she thought idly as she swam from the depths of sleep. Not my never name, though. Not Dana. It’s my sometimes name. She tried to ignore it, but it repeated until she slowly became aware of her dull head, her dry mouth, of Mulder’s voice coaxing her back to him.

‘Mmmh?’ Forcing her eyes open, she saw Mulder sat on the bed. He didn’t touch her, she noted, and her shoulder shivered in the absence of his hand. The space in the trailer compacted with Mulder’s return. The walls closed in as he crossed the threshold and there wasn’t enough room for her.  She could see his mind humming with thoughts, but not knowing what they were, she would feel like an intruder.

‘You’re asleep again.’ He said with a hint of accusation.

‘Mmmh.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. If she was lucky, she could fall back to sleep quickly.

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘Oh. I ate at work.’

‘That was 6 hours ago.’ She opened her eyes again. It was 8pm already? ‘You were sleeping when I came home at 6, and it looks like you’ve not moved.’

‘I took a sandwich home with me,’ Scully lied. ‘You woke me when you left again, I ate then.’

He met her eyes and she realised she couldn’t remember the last time they’d properly looked at each other. His face was worn. She spied blue paint by his ear. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Like her, he had flecks of grey around his hairline, and his eyes seemed smaller among the creases of his cheeks. But there was energy coursing behind his irises. He can handle this, she realised enviously. This lifestyle suited him.

She shrank as he studied her in return. He had always been interested in her mind, had always valued her level-headed scientific approach. She knew he had found her beautiful at some point, but his true love affair was with her intellect. She counted on the fact that he wouldn’t ever really see her. She liked feeling invisible. But now he had noticed what she saw when she looked at her reflection.

‘Are you eating enough?’ His question landed heavily in her stomach. She circled her left wrist with her right fingers and twisted, drawing confidence from the gap.

‘Yeah.’ She avoided his eyes.

‘Are you sure, Scully?’

‘I told you, I already ate.’

‘You look thin.’

Scully fluffed her pillows and lay back down again. ‘It’s just from being on my feet all day. And the walk there and back.’

‘Do you need a ride there each day? I can get up earlier. I don’t want you –’

‘I’m fine, Mulder. Please.’ She rolled away from him, not caring that she was still fully clothed. She felt sleep stalking her in the periphery and prostrated herself ready for it to snatch her.

*

The first rule Mulder created was that they avoid being in public together, the net result being a lot of alone time for her when her shift finished. She was to go home straight away. He would pick up their groceries on his way home, comfortable with his own vulnerability, but he resisted her attempts at independence beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Every day the trailer was oppressed by afternoon heat. The air refused to move so it felt like she was wading through blankets. She would sleep the afternoons away, passing out so heavily that she felt drugged when she awoke, limbs heavy, clinging on to unconsciousness as her senses fired up. More than once, she thought she was still in her Georgetown apartment, and it took a few minutes to remember. She would try to wake up before Mulder came home, but recently that was proving more challenging.

Her bones were dragging.

*

‘Can you trade with me again?’ Chet arrived at her elbow. She instinctively took a step back. ‘Please?’

‘I told you the last time,’ Scully replied, ‘no. I need to stay here.’

‘Please. I can’t go out there.’ He sounded so desperate that she sighed and scanned the restaurant for the table of girls.

‘I don’t see those girls here,’ she said.

‘That group of girls? With the headbands and the lettermen?’ Chet scoffed. ‘No, not them.’

‘Then who?’ Curious, Scully couldn’t help but look again. She saw in the corner a small girl with brown hair to her shoulders reading a book. ‘That girl over there?’

Chet backed away, his cheeks blushing

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Amanda Jones.’

‘She seems nice?’ Scully asked, unsure of what to say.

‘She is nice.’ He ran his hands over his hair. ‘She’s super smart, and she really thinks about things. She’s not one of those girls you saw the other day…’

‘Those other girls don’t think?’ Scully bristled at Chet’s casual dismissal.

‘I don’t know if they do or not. But they’re not very nice.’ He paused, looking out at Amanda. ‘Please. I can’t go out there.’

Scully sized him up before holding her hand out for his apron. She remembered how teenage love teetered between affirming and soul destroying. The girl looked up and ordered a coffee with such self-possession that even Scully had to admit she was impressed.

*

Dana pulled up outside her mother’s dark house. It was 7pm and she was expected for dinner, but she was met with silence. Her mother’s purse was on the hall table. Shopping sat on the kitchen counters. There was a sweet, fermented smell of rotting fruit.

Professional instincts kicking in, she drew her weapon and checked downstairs before making her way upstairs.  Her mom was on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and congealed blood at her temple.

‘Mom!’ Dana cried as she kneeled beside her. She patted her mother’s cheek urgently, and Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open. Relief washed over Dana and her arms shook as she moved.

‘Dana….’ Maggie whispered. ‘I fell….’

‘Mom, I’m gonna help you,’ Dana was unable to stop her voice from wavering. She held a damp washcloth against the side of her mother’s head. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Two days ago maybe… or three…I’m not really sure.’ Scully held a second wet, clean cloth to her mom’s lips for her to suck. ‘I couldn’t get to the phone….  I’ve been here for such a long time.’

Maggie closed her eyes and went limp. Dana felt her mother’s pulse weaken, and she screamed.

Scully sat bolt upright, throat wheezing as she desperately sucked in air. She panted, sweat rolling down her back as she held her hands out to orient herself. There was the bedside table. There was the side of the bed. There was Mulder, his strong back to her, snoring. Her mother was back at home, and Scully had to believe she was alive and well.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Mulder, and sat on the steps outside. It was warm enough to sit in her t-shirt. She put her arms around her knees and lit a cigarette. She struggled to sleep past 2am these days.

Some nights she would reach around Mulder to wake him with her hands. She would take him in her mouth, and he would push her head until she gagged. Their bodies grew slippery together, and she would dig her nails into his back to gain traction as she sat on him, feeling him plunge into the cavernous depths of her. She would cry his name – his real name - in her throaty voice, the black night their only witness. It was always quick, vicious, and she rarely had her turn although she didn’t want that. She wanted to be entered, to be filled up. They wouldn’t speak after, but the next day there would be a new charge in the current between them which almost made the situation almost bearable.

Most nights, however, she would simply sit outside and smoke. She savoured her secret cigarettes, this tasty rebellion. The orange glow soared through the air like a grown-up sparkler.

The expanse of the stars made her mind spin as she gazed upwards. She remembered her childhood astronomy, spotting the Big Dipper and the Big Bear. She heard her father’s commentary. In these moments, Scully wondered if she was even really there. She might blow away on the wind’s currents, floating higher and higher until she was as far away as the stars. She felt like she was looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope.

*

The day in May came, around which all others moved, and she dragged herself to the café when all her instincts told her to stay in bed and spend the day remembering his gummy smile and the sound of his cry.

The day before, she had eyed a bottle of whiskey as she replenished her clandestine cigarettes on her way home but had ultimately decided against it. Throughout the years they had both tried to escape this day via alcohol. For her, it resulted shame and hazy memories of tear-soaked grief, Mulder’s clumsy hands holding her hair back as she vomited, raging against his strength as he tried to contain her. On his part, he turned inwards, growing snarky, mean and morose. He channelled his energy towards the cruellest insults which swirled in her head for months after. You call yourself a mother? You give him up and then claim to be a mother? You’re a selfish bitch, Scully, that’s what you are, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life.

At the café, she saw Chet hanging around her sink. Her heart sank when he smiled as she approached. She wasn’t sure she could handle him today.

‘Ms Denise!’ He greeted her enthusiastically. ‘I have news.’

Scully said nothing and turned the tap on. Chet wasn’t put off by her indifference, having worked with her for 7 weeks now and seen little else.

‘I was riding home from work yesterday and I saw Amanda had a puncture,’ his thin, reticulin fingers gesticulated as spoke, ‘so I helped her fix it, and we walked home together and had the best conversation. Turns out she’s reading '1984’, which is my favourite book. We both think it’s so clever, you know, how they reduce thought by altering language. Kinda like what’s going on now, all this war on terror talk. You know what I mean?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Man, I can’t believe she actually spoke to me.’

Scully shook her head slightly to refocus. She was bothered by something he said.

‘You love '1984’?’ She asked, looking directly at him. He had shaved his fluff but kept a small, patchy moustache on his baby face. His hair had greasy roots, and she wanted to tell him to take a shower. He was clean and musty at the same time. ‘How old are you, Chet?’

‘I’m 19. I’ll be 20 in October.’

‘Why aren’t you in college?’ She asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows cynically.

‘College? What college am I going to go to?’ He replied, voice squeaking. ‘You’ve seen this town, there’s no college here.’

‘You’re a smart guy.’ Scully seethed at the waste of his potential. ‘There are colleges nearby, with scholarships –‘

‘No, I’m just gonna work here, get some money behind me,’ Chet interrupted. ‘I’ve been talking to Ed, maybe one day I can take over this place.’

‘Chet, you can have bigger dreams than the local café for the next forty years,’ Scully was desperate to make this boy see the world was bigger than this. ‘You can do whatever you want.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t. I’m not that guy.’

‘Chet….’ She saw his face harden.

‘Anyway, what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘What all are your dreams, why are you lecturing me about mine?’ His voice was raised, and Scully’s heart ticked like a metronome on the highest setting. She stepped back from the sink. This was too much attention. ‘You’re hiding something. You don’t wash your hands like a normal person. I reckon a doctor, or surgeon, someone who has to keep clean. And then there’s that cornfed guy working at the motel on the other side of town. Funny how he pops up same week as you, same accent as you, yet you don’t know nothing about anything. So who are you really, Ms Denise?’

He reeled, surprised at his outburst. Scully blinked back tears, her hands shaking as adrenaline bled through her. He reminded her so much of Mulder: observant, passionate, gentle, and he had her number. Yet this wasn’t her mini-Mulder. He was elsewhere celebrating this day with strangers, and she was in a kitchen in small town Texas. She heard waves crash in her ears.

‘I’m nothing,’ she muttered, and pushed past Chet. ‘Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.’

He called her name as she ran out the back door and threw up beside the bins. It felt good. Chunks of apple, half dissolved by acid, lay at her feet, and her teeth chattered. Chet appeared with a glass of water which she took gratefully. Her stomach churned as the water hit, but it stayed down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. He stood next to her, unsure of what to do. ‘Today is a hard day.’

‘I can tell Ed you’re not well,’ Chet said awkwardly. ‘You should go… I can handle it today.’

It was mid-morning by the time she turned down the dirt road towards the trailer park. Mulder would have just left for work, and she wanted to crawl in bed and close off the day. She wasn’t sure what four-year olds were even like: she had a vague recollection of Matthew being into trains. She couldn’t imagine his hair colour, what his voice sounded like, whether he could count to twenty, or if he could do puzzles. She had no idea, and her ignorance of rudimentary childhood development made her feel worse.

On a whim, she ignored her thirst and walked past the trailer park entrance to the natural bushland at the end of the road, lured by the refreshing shades of green. The ground was covered in grass, with natural tracks running between the trees. Leaves and sticks scraped her ankles as she walked, and she soon found herself deep within the bushland, with only the track behind her for navigation.

She walked until her shin bones ached. Suddenly the path dropped away. The cliff was 40 feet or so and framed by the overhanging branches from the nearby trees. A creek ran through the lush valley at the base of the cliff. It looked so quiet, so unspoiled. She crept closer to the drop and looked down to see rocks directly below her. Standing tall, the breeze blew temptingly across her face and her toes crept over the edge. Then the balls of her feet. Her weight shift to her heels. She knew if she closed her eyes, her balance would falter, and who knew which way she would fall? The risk appealed. She felt dizzy. Reckless. Her hands opened by her side, her fingers stretching downwards to feel the breeze on her palms. She imagined feeling weightless.

A rustle next to her made her jump back, her natural instinct to survive proving to be stronger than her desperation to for everything to stop. She fell as she retreated, landing hard on her coccyx. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she heard herself cry. Her chest heaved twice, three times, as she inhaled to support more sobs. Pain dripped like mercury from her fingers. She gripped her hair by its roots and let out a huge scream which echoed around the valley as her rage tumbled out. It was a relief to finally feel something. A fox squirrel shot out from under the scrubland and stood still, eyeing her as she wept. It tilted its head and ran up a tree trunk. Her right fingers wrapped around her left wrist, and she twisted her wrist in the gap. Tears splashed on the rocks beside her.

*

When she got back to the motel, Scully stayed away from the bedroom. She drank three glasses of cold water and took her towel to lie on the grass outside of the trailer, enjoying the solid ground beneath her shoulder blades. Studying the leaves above her, she realised that she still had choices. She could decide things. She could identify her limits, but it came down to how much she was prepared to fight for herself. She was a hologram of the person she used to be, and she wondered if she even had the strength to stand up. Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic lullaby of leaves in the breeze.

She woke when Mulder pulled up. Her sleep had been light, leaving her unusually refreshed. The importance of the day crashed on her chest once more, but she recognised a very, very slight shift in perspective: today could be about more than grief. What should I do with this, she wondered.

‘Scully?’ He approached her with caution, wearing his own memories of this day on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘It’s a nice day.’ She folded her towel and stood. ‘I just wanted to be outside.’

That evening, they sat outside with a beer to toast their son. They talked, though not about William. He was interested in her trip to the bushland. She told him about the sound the trees made, and the squirrel, but not how the whispers of the breeze had dared her to see if she really was immortal.

*

She had grown used to the smell of old cooking oil and grease. It seeped into her skin and her hair. Having been there for two and a half months, it smelled as much like home as anywhere had. Half-way through her shift one Tuesday morning, she asked for a plate of scrambled eggs, which the chef handed to her in surprise. Out back, past the bins, she found Chet on his break, and sat wordlessly beside him.

‘You taking a break today?’ He asked incredulously. ‘You never take a break.’

They had reached a truce after William’s birthday: he chewed her ear off about whatever he wanted, and she offered sparse but pertinent advice. Each day, he brought her some new piece of information about the youth of the town, and she found herself invested in spite of herself.

‘First time for everything,’ she replied, hoping she sounded light, carefree. The fork was awkward in her right hand, plate balanced on her lap. The eggs were yellow and solid; she sliced into them with the side of her fork. They felt like stones clogging her throat. Her mouth salivated as she ate. Scully tried to ignore how heavy the food felt inside her stomach and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Can I eat with you tomorrow too?’

‘Sure thing, Ms Denise.’ Chet balled up the paper from his bacon sandwich. ‘You don’t have to ask.’

She managed half her plate, and fought against the itch in her fingers, the urge to lock herself in the bathroom afterwards.

That afternoon, as she was leaving the Mom and Pop store, Chet and Amanda cycled past. He was in front, and he said something which made her throw her head back in laughter, her hair trailing behind like a mermaid. Scully felt a spark in her chest: a tiny flame, a burst of energy. She drew warmth from its glow.

*

They started to spend the warm evenings outside together, the fog between them slowly dissipating. She told Mulder about the legend of the Ozark Howler, a cat-like creature with horns and glowing eyes. It was said to be found in the Ozarks but there were sightings as far reaching as Texas too. Mulder’s core ignited with new folklore, curling himself towards her in his plastic chair. She presented tidbits of information to him like proud child. They found themselves in a discussion of whether it’s realistic for one cat-like creature to cover so much geography, or if it meant a growing species, and whether that contributed to or undermined its veracity. His eyes narrowed when he learned that Chet had told her about it. Careful Scully, his tone immediately changing, you don’t want to get too close. Keep your distance. She had smiled thinly, ruffled his hair, and walked back inside before he could see her tears because, for just a minute, she had forgotten and they had felt like a normal couple again.

*

‘Mulder?’ Scully approached Mulder as he lay on the couch in the tiny living room reading the papers. Three months in and she could see he was starting to twitch. It wouldn’t be long until he wanted to up sticks, and she wanted to get in first.

‘What’s up, doc?’ He smiled. She sat next to him and pressed her knees together. She had recently bought some dye to patch over her grey hairs. Her cheeks were starting to fill out with her daily plate of eggs, though she still couldn’t consider anything more solid without her palms sweating. She noticed he had started to look at her differently: he had stopped looking through her, and she felt herself take up more space.

‘Mulder…..’ She sighed and looked at the floor. ‘Mulder, I need to go home.’ She glanced up and saw shock, fear, pass over his face.

‘Go home?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘Scully, I can’t…. you know what waits for me there.’

Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to remember Mulder’s sentence: death by lethal injection. The danger had always been real, but somewhere along the way she had lost the sense of it as she had lost herself. With this request, she had to face it once more.

‘There must be a way,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘Please. It’s… I’m …. I’m not doing well. I’m… vanishing.’

‘I know that Scully,’ he said in his crinkly voice that reached into the dark shadows of her. ‘I see you. I think you’re right, I think you may have reached the end of this road. But what choice do I have?’

‘There must be a way,’ she repeated, the lump in her throat making her voice thin and tight. ‘We can email Skinner. I don’t want to leave you. I hate the thought you being by yourself.’ She paused to compose herself and reached for his hand. ‘You’re good at this life. You know how to duck and weave. The threat gives you energy, purpose, as it always has. I see you too, you know.’

 ‘You’re my gal. You’ve always seen all of me.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I know you’re struggling. I don’t know the last time I saw you eat more than a banana. I wake in the night and you’re not there.’ She stiffened but made herself stay in the conversation. It was the first honest talk they’d had in months.  ‘But can you give me some time? Just a little. Please, Scully. Let me get my head around it some more.’

‘Mulder….. There’s Matthew. My Mom.’ She hiccupped the last word, and to her frustration, started to cry, releasing the pressure in her chest. She wiped her eyes. ‘I mean, what is our plan here, exactly? Wait for an apocalypse that we’re powerless to stop? Well, I don’t want to welcome that one without my family. Or maybe it doesn’t happen, and we run for the next 20 years. Or do we draw the line at 30 years? And what happens if you fall from a ladder, or even just get tonsillitis?’

They sat in silence. Mulder had abandoned the newspaper, and Scully circled her wrist. There was still a sizeable gap and her satisfaction at this quickly turned to guilt.   

‘Ok, Scully.’ Mulder said finally, exhaling heavily. ‘Let’s email Skinner. See if there are options.’

*

That Sunday they drove two hours out of town to a random internet café. Mulder set up an email account and then they sent Skinner a cryptic message. Mulder drove three hours in the opposite direction two days later to see his reply, and he didn’t let Scully come. Too conspicuous for both of them to miss a day of work, he’d reasoned. Scully had wanted to throw her coffee mug at the wall in frustration.

They hadn’t spent more than a work shift apart since 2002, and Scully was bereft as she waited. She dropped a stack of plates at work, and spent the afternoon peeking out of the trailer window at the sound of every car rumble. It felt like snakes had taken up residence in her stomach.

She was sat the small table in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of celery, carrots and hummus in front of her. She cried out with relief as she heard the car pull up and ran to hug him as he exited the car. His sweater was soft, and she remembered how solid she felt when her body locked against his.

Once inside, he handed her a printout from the now deleted email account. Scully scanned it, seeing words like pardon, obstruction of justice, requalification, but her mind raced over the email before she could comprehend its meaning. She looked at him expectantly.  

‘It looks like there’s a shot,’ Mulder said nervously, rubbing his palms together. ‘A long shot. Skinner thinks he could get any potential charges against you dropped as long as I continue to lay low. But he thinks there’s a possibility for us both to return.’

‘And we’d be together?’

‘Yes. We could be together.’ He finally slipped a smile. ‘I may not see daylight for the foreseeable future, so I hope you like the anaemic vampiric look.’

Scully covered her face with her hands and pushed all the air out of her lungs. Her fingers were hot, and her head tingled. She laughed, feeling a little light-headed and hysterical. She pictured her Mom’s face and the laugher turned to loud sobs of relief. Mulder kissed her head and held her tightly while she calmed. The energy in his eyes had already been replaced with fear, and she realised the price of the choice he had just made for her. For them.

‘Pack your things Scully,’ He started pulling their bags from the cupboard. ‘We gotta move.’

[thefandomsinhalor]

The Lucky Pairs of Christmas Underwear

An Advent Calendar fic by thefandomsinhalor 

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Not Rated (it is rated as such until I finish the fic, right now it’s leaning on Mature.)

Summary: Due to heavy workloads and conflicting schedules, Sam and Dean, living in different cities, are both disappointed when it appears that they won't be able to spend the holidays together—something they had always managed to do in the past.

This turn of events, however, offers them both the opportunity to seek someone else to share their respective holidays with, and when Dean's last year crush is paired up with him at the Gift Wrapping booth, and Sam keeps running into a charming new acquaintance, by helping each other, the brothers feel hopeful that Christmas time might not be ruined after all.

Read on AO3

---

Chapter One: A Holly Jolly Time

“Dean? Hello? Did you—are you still there?”

Sitting on a very uncomfortable chair at an overpriced café, for someone of his limited means anyway, Dean swallowed hard. Still holding the phone to his ear, he lowered his eyes as he felt his heart growing heavy at the news he had just heard.

“Dean?” repeated Sam at the other end of the line.

“Yeah. Still here. Sorry. Just—I didn’t expect that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I feel awful. It’s just—work is crazy.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I get it. Hell, I’m in the same situation. If not worse.”

“And this is why I’m really sorry. I had agreed to be the one to—”

“Sam, stop.” He cleared his throat. “I—it sucks, but like I said, I get it. We’ve been lucky so far, but I guess that this year…” he let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I promise I’ll do my best to change it, but right now, um, it doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to join you for Christmas,” Sam said in a desolate voice.

Dean nodded blankly. “Any other good news?”

Sam let out a deep sigh in turn.

“I—I just, Dean, I hate the idea that you’ll be alone for Christmas.”

“Me? I’ll be fine, Sam. What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be okay too. I’ll be at work.”

Dean lowered his phone and shook his head for a moment, and then he brought his phone back to his ear. “That’s what I mean, Sam. You, not being able to make it here because of work, deadlines and travelling schedule, that’s one thing. But to actually work on Christmas? I mean, I’m not even doing that and all I do is work.” 

“I don’t have a choice. And honestly, it’s just, you know, one day. For a few hours. Which is really annoying when said like this, but...Work will be a nice distraction. And we can still talk. And skype for the rest of the day if you want. It’s ridiculous, but we can do it. I was almost going to suggest that we postpone Christmas and meet up soon after, but….”

“Nah. I mean, even if I knew for a fact that we could do something in the following week, I feel like we would have missed it. It would still be cool, but you know.”

“That’s what I thought too,” agreed Sam. “But we should do something for New Year’s Eve. I’m definitely working on that.”

“All right. Work will still be nuts on my end, but it should have diminished a bit by then. Or maybe I could make it to your end this time.”

“Dean, no. I—unless you let me help you out with money—”

“No,” blurted out Dean.

“—but I know you won’t agree to it,” said Sam, sighing.

Biting his bottom lip, Dean pondered on Sam’s suggestion. “I’m not saying yes, but I’ll think about it,” he brought himself to say.

“You will?”

“Just because I haven’t seen your freaking face for far too long now. But still. Not a definite yes.”

“But you’ll consider it?”

“Yeah. But it’s still too early in the month to have a clue of what the situation’s going to be at that point. So, I’ll leave it to that for now.”

“All right. That’s great,” said Sam.

Dean could hear how happy Sam was at the idea, so he decided that he should make an effort to make it happen.

“And Dean, even if for whatever reason that doesn’t work out either, I promise I’ll visit you soon, okay?”

“All right, Sammy. But don’t worry. I’m—it’s disappointing, but I know you tried. It will be okay.”

“Thanks Dean. I—thanks for understanding.” There was a long pause, and then Sam asked, “So, besides that? Anything new?”

Welcoming the change to a less depressing topic, Dean said, “Not really.”

“What about work? Is the holiday frenzy rising?”

A slightly less depressing topic.

“The frenzy is settling in, all right,” he sighed.

“Is the music driving you nuts already?”

“It’s been driving me nuts for the last two weeks. I was actually freaking humming Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer yesterday and I didn’t even notice it. I only did when a customer mentioned it.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Sorry. A few more weeks and it will be all over. And it’s better than last year, right? Since you’re at the Chocolaterie this time. I thought you said it was a bit more shielded than the rest of the store now that they moved its location this year.”

“Yeah, well that was the plan, but not anymore.” Dean leaned back into his seat.

“What? I—what do you mean?”

“I was about to tell you earlier. I was transferred a couple days ago to another department. Sort of.”

“No! What? But why?”

Dean cleared his throat. “It just needed to be done.”

“Why? Dean, what does that mean?” asked Sam, nearly aggravated as though he already knew the answer.

Dean debated for a moment whether or not he should share the specifics with his brother, knowing that Sam would most undoubtedly be worried and annoyed at him.

Nor would he be shy to express his views about it.

And Dean had worked really hard to avoid this particular lecture.

But since Sam had been honest about his work situation, he concluded that he owed him the same courtesy.

So, Dean replied, “Because another position opened up at the last minute and it offered more hours. I gave my name and here we are.”

“Dean,” groaned Sam.

I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

“It’s all right, Sam.”

“Is it? How many hours are we talking about now?”

Silence.

“Dean?”

“Twenty hours.”

Sam swore loudly. “On top of your full time job at the garage? And the gig that Jo got you with Pam?”

“I was hoping you forgot about that…”

“I didn’t. Dean, this is nuts. How are you even able to pull this off?”

Dean crossed one arm over his chest, lowering his eyes.

“Bobby is helping me out. I’m solid during the day at the garage throughout the week, so I can have my nights and the weekends to do the rest.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you even have a day off? A night off?”

“You’re one to talk, Sam. And it’s just for December. Everything will be back to normal after that.”

“December starts tomorrow and it’s already insane. And answer the question.”

Dean sighed. “I work at the store on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights. And in the afternoon during the weekend. And then Saturday nights, I wait at Pam’s events, which is really not a big deal. I did it this summer. It’s good money.”

“You did it once, Dean. One wedding. Not four in a row on top of—”

“No weddings this time. Pam said it will be Christmas parties for companies. The first one is tonight. It’s gonna be fine.”

“That leaves you with what, though? For free time?”

“I still have my evenings Sunday through Tuesday.”

“If you’re not pulling extra hours at the garage, you mean? Which I’m guessing you’re already doing in the mornings during the weekends? Am I right?”

“Sam,” warned Dean.

Sam remained silent for a good minute, until he said, “Dean, I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s all going to go in the piggy bank so I’ll be able to catch my breath during the harsh winter,” he joked.

Sam let out a deep sigh. “And what about the new position at the store? Shit, Dean. I—I know you were really happy about—you were actually looking forward to the Chocolaterie. Now, I feel even worse about not being able to go.”

“It’s not your fault. And anyway, it’s just a job for the holidays. No matter what it is, we both know the novelty would have worn off eventually.”

“Okay, hold on here. Because we both know the real reason you wanted to work in that department. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the job in question…”

Dean pursed his lips, lifting his head to look at the ceiling, annoyed.

“Ugh. Not this again, Sam. I told you, it was…it’s not important.”

“Bull. You’ve been whining about this guy for, like, literally a freaking year now. A year.”

“Well, whatever,” urged Dean. “Doesn’t change anything now as he’s not even here.”

“But you said that last year he hadn’t shown up until a week or so before Christmas.”

“I said I only noticed him at the end of the season. Nuance.”

“But you also said they had added employees as Christmas approached. So maybe he was one of them. And he will be this year too.”

Dean let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Sam. All I can do is wait and see.” And after a short pause, he added in an urgent manner, “If I cared. Which, I don’t. Not really.”

Sam snorted. “Right.”

“What about you, huh? Made any headway with your office crush?”

“I—there’s been progress.”

“Yeah? Asked her out yet?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

At the sound of Sam clearing his throat, Dean shook his head.

“Did you or did you not ask her out, Sam?”

“I…okay, I haven’t yet, but—”

“God, Sam,” said Dean, cutting him off. “What are you waiting for?”

“If you would let me finish, I was going to say I’m going to. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.”

“And when’s that? On your wedding day?”

Sam huffed. “I’ll get to it. The timing and the setting have to be right.”

Dean was not impressed by this statement.

“Don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t.”

Not wanting to push it too far, Dean asked, “Got anything else planned for today?

“Not sure. Kevin texted me. He and some of his friends are going out tonight. He told me the address of the bar. He said he invited Bela too…”

“Perfect! You can make your move then. You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know. I have so much work to do.”

“Sam, I swear if you don’t go, I will somehow teleport to Chicago and drag you there myself.”

“Dean, this isn’t really my scene.”

“That’s precisely why you should go. Live a little. And if Bela’s there, she gets to see you somewhere else than at the office. A different setting, like you’ve been waiting for. And if she’s not there, you still get to have fun.”

“But hitting on her at a bar? Like, that’s just—that’s not really how I had pictured it.”

“Sam, maybe start by finding out if she’s interested? And when you know that she is, feel free to execute whatever fantasy of courtship you had planned out,” he said with a grin on his face. “At least, go to the damn bar and enjoy yourself, huh?”

“In which department are you working at The Milton’s now?” asked Sam.

“Changing the subject, huh? Nice try.”

“I’ll think about what you said,” he assured him. “But I’m curious and you didn’t say earlier.”

There was a reason for that.

“The…I’m working at the Gift Wrapping Booth.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Sorry, the what?”

Dean groaned. “You heard me.”

After a long pause, Sam said, “I see.” Sam hadn’t laughed, but Dean knew full well his brother was most likely holding down a massive fit of laughter. “I’m—wait, aren’t those usually managed by volunteers? And it’s for donations or—”

“It still is. The donation part, I mean. Look, I don’t know the whole story, but apparently, there was an issue last year with some of the volunteers, so this time, they decided to offer their own Gift Wrapping services. Nothing has changed. Every customer is entitled to the services, to donate however much they want, and all the funds goes to the Children’s Hospital, just like last year. The only difference is that the store is employing people instead of relying on volunteers.”

“Is this unusual?”

“I have no clue, but it creates jobs, so I’m not gonna complain about it. It’s actually kinda nice of them to do that since they really don’t have to. And the store is providing the wrapping paper and everything, and let me tell you, it’s not the cheap stuff either.”

“Cool. Cool. I just have one question.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Had they seen you wrap anything before they gave you the job or…”

“It’s wrapping, not rocket science.”

“Dean.”

“I’m fine,” he said defensively. And then, after a short hesitation, he added, “They do have a certain fancy way of doing it.”

“Thought so.”

“But I’ll manage. I practiced at home a bit—I mean it’s wrapping for God’s sake!”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Dean. I was just curious,” said Sam sincerely. “And how do you feel about it so far?”

“Well,” sighed Dean, “honestly, it’s been somewhat uneventful. I’m the only one in the booth—it’s more like a box, but whatever. At least I don’t have anyone boring to tear my ears off, but people haven’t been super eager to have their purchases wrapped so far. So it’s basically been me, sitting on a stupid chair and looking at people buying stuff I can’t afford. While listening to the same twelve songs.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s encouraging or not, but I’m pretty sure the pace will pick up soon enough.”

“Yeah. Not sure that’s a silver lining.” Moving the phone away from his ear, Dean looked at the time on his phone. “All right,” he said, after putting the phone back, “I have to head back. My break is almost over. I’m lucky they even give me one, so… Thanks for the phone call.”

“Same. Though, I wish I had better news. Hang in there, Dean. The holiday season will be over soon.”

“I will. I’ll call you back tonight after my gig. And you better not answer because you’re out having fun for once,” he said with glee.

“We’ll see.”

“You freaking better.”

“Fine! Bye!”

Dean, walking to his booth, trying not to drag his feet, passed by toys’ department and spotted his friends, Charlie and Jo, looking at the board games.

Not in a talking mood, he simply waved at them and continued his route.

“Dean, wait!” said Jo.

Dean came to halt and let his friends catch up to him. “Sorry, I have to go back.”

“We’ll walk with you a minute,” said Jo. “Are you still good for tonight?”

“Yup. Pam called me Thursday night to double check. She gave me the address and everything. And a reminder of the regulations. I’m trying not to take it personally,” he said, beaming.

“Don’t. She did the same for me too.”

“Thanks again for giving her my name.”

“No problem.”

“You going too, Charlie?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Which sucks. That’s when I had my D&D meet ups.”

“Create a new one, then,” said Jo. “I’ll join.”

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t toy with me, Harvelle.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Then Charlie, smiling, said, “You think we can convince this one too,” she said, poking Dean’s chest with her finger.”

“If I had time to have a life,” he said, “I would.”

Charlie squinted at him. “We’ll have to see about that then.” Continuing walking side by side, she asked him, “So, do you like your new position, Dean?”

“I’m not thrilled, but it’s not bad, either. And if I’m honest, it’s certainly an improvement from last year…”

“That wasn’t very hard to beat,” pointed out Charlie, remembering full well as she had been stuck in the same boat as he had.

“True.”

Having reached the booth, Dean pushed the half-door, stepped inside the booth, and approached the counter facing the girls.

“Wait, I thought you were at the Chocolaterie?” said Jo. “That was like perfect for you.”

“Yeah. I agree,” said Dean. “But I switched for the hours.”

“So, who is manning the Chocolaterie now?”

“Meg,” said Charlie. “I saw her this morning.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean. “Oh, man! I didn’t even know she was back.” And he made a face of disgust.

“She’s actually not that bad,” said Charlie.

An opinion that was not, it seemed, overly shared with her friends.

“Not that I care about that kind of stuff, but she always seemed kind of a manipulator to me,” said Jo.

“I don’t trust her,” said Dean simply.

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Um, one, you barely trust anyone. And two, I’m pretty sure the main reason why you don’t like her is because you saw her lurking around that guy you had heart-eyes for last year.”

Jo turned briskly towards her. “What’s that now?” A smirk appeared on her face. “What guy?”

“You didn’t know this?” asked Charlie.

“No. What guy?” she repeated.

“No one,” said Dean, busying himself by moving the wrapping paper around, which was utterly unnecessary.

“Not no one,” said Charlie. “Last year, there was this guy—dark hair, killer blue eyes, about yay-high—he was one of those last-minute employees. You know the ones who are brought in within the last few days before Christmas for emergencies, substitution or additional help?”

Jo nodded, understanding and eager to hear the rest.

“Okay, well, last year,” she continued, “Dean and I were elves helping out kids to have their picture taken with Santa. Which was not very far from the Chocolaterie. And this guy showed up just a few days before Christmas for additional help there, and from that moment on, all Dean did was constantly stare at his pretty face.”

“I didn’t constantly stare at him…”

“You didn’t ask him out?” said Jo.

Dean, pursing his lips, let out a deep sigh. “I never got to. As it was the last days before Christmas, I didn’t have one second to myself. I don’t even know his name or even exchanged a few words with him. And I didn’t work here after Christmas. I, um, did stop by the store a few times, but…and since I’ve been back, I tried to find out if anyone knew anything, but I haven’t had much luck so far.”

“I asked around too since they kept me on after Christmas, but nothing,” said Charlie.

“The only one who may have something is Meg and the only thing she had said to me last year was that his name was Clarence and I’m pretty sure it’s a goddamn lie. Hence: I don’t trust her.”

“Uh-huh. Were they a thing?” asked Jo to Charlie. “‘Clarence’ and Meg, I mean.”

“Who knows?” said Charlie. “It’s possible. I think Meg was the only one who got to interact with him. But he didn’t stay around for that long and I haven’t heard anything suggesting that either. The guy’s a mystery.”

Frowning, something was still bothering Jo. “Why not ask Rowena? If anyone knows who he is, it would be her, no?”

But Dean and Charlie shook their heads. “Rowena wasn’t here last year, remember? It was that atrocious-ass Adler.”

“Right. I think I had repressed that,” she said with a grim face. “Still, there has to be a way to find out. A record or something?”

But Dean was officially done with the subject. “Whatever,” he shrugged. “It’s not like my life depends on it. It was, like, one guy. Who may or may not have been good-looking. From afar. Whatever.”

Charlie and Jo exchanged devious looks.

Ones that made Dean roll his eyes. He waved them goodbye, as he knew they both needed to head back to their own departments, and watched them stroll down the aisle.

And so, left by himself, and with no customers in sight (for him, at the very least), just as he had told Sam, Dean pulled up a chair, sat down and…waited.

Attempting to seem alert and ready to help.

And not appear overly depressed at doing nothing.

At least it’s not complicated and it certainly beats dealing with rude customers.

On the other hand, killing time by staring in front of him blankly felt like a waste of time. Even if he was technically earning money while doing it.

But he knew he shouldn’t complain. As Sam had mentioned earlier, soon enough, he would most likely reminisce on the time when he was bored out of his skull.

But being kept in that booth with nothing else to do but to watch the people around him, while he was stuck alone, served as a painful allegory to his life. Everything around him was moving and there he stood, waiting for someone to come to him, while he was expected to just smile as if he was having the time of his life.

And now, the one silver lining he had had for the holidays was apparently gone as well.

No Sammy. No traditional cookies. And no making fun of old Christmas movies, while eating junk food and drinking eggnog.

They had never spent Christmas apart before. Even when Sam had been away at college. Even when either of them had been in a serious relationship (though that had mostly been Sam’s case, not Dean’s), they had still celebrated the holidays together.

No matter what. That was their thing.

And now he would have to spend it on his own.

Alone.

Assuming he would survive the crazy amount of workload awaiting him in December.

And not be driven mad by this infuriating Christmas music.

Awesome.

I hate my life.

“Hello.”

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. A hand over his heart, he turned to his left only to realize someone was standing next to him.

In the booth.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was told to join you today.”

Regaining his composure, Dean said, “Cool. Um, the place has been pretty de—”

And the rest of his sentence died in his throat, the moment his eyes fell on his new co-worker.

Dark hair.

Killer blue eyes.

About yay-high.

It’s him.

And he’s here.

With me.

At the freaking booth.

Dean gawked at him.

Chapped lips.

Stubble beard.

And a deep voice that—

And all I’ve been doing is staring at him like a complete moron.

“Hi!” Dean nearly yelled, waving his hand.

Stop now.

And he immediately dropped his hand.

“Hello,” the man repeated.

“Dean,” said Dean, pointing at himself.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you.”

Castiel.

“Um, same. Hi, Castiel.”

And he smiled at him like an idiot.

--End of Chapter One----

Read Chapter Two and the rest of the fic on AO3 :)

[believingispowerfulmagic]

“The Christmas Cottage” Chapter 7: Christmas Magic

Regina spent the night tossing and turning, her sleep plagued by weird dreams whose substance was always quickly forgotten while the feelings they invoked lingered. After only a few hours of sleep, she awoke with the sun. She looked over to find Daniel on his side, his back still toward her. Though he was asleep, she could still feel the anger radiating off him. She slipped from the bed and changed, grabbing the hotel’s pen and pad as well as her purse before leaving the room in order to write her speech.

           The hotel was quiet as most guests were not yet awake. A few were working out in the gym or grabbing an early breakfast but she could count them on one hand. She continued on until she ended up in the quiet lounge, a fire roaring in the bedecked hearth. A Christmas tree was set up in one corner, its lights twinkling to welcome Christmas.

           She had almost forgotten it was Christmas as she certainly didn’t feel very merry or bright.

           “You’re up early,” a soft voice, startling her. She turned around to find Robin sitting in a rocking chair, a phone clutched in his hand. Regina wondered if he was writing his speech on it.

           Regina held up her own pad. “Still need to write my speech.”

           He nodded, though he looked like he was a thousand miles away. When he spoke, there was a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I’m sure you and Daniel were very busy last night.”

           “You could say that,” she muttered, thinking of their argument. She sighed as she sat down. “What about you? You still writing your speech?”

           He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “I got an email from the organization I worked for. They’re asking if I’m willing to do one last mission for them.”

           “Oh,” she replied, surprised. “Where? And for how long?”

           “India, for about six months,” he replied.

           That surprised her and she blinked a few times. “Six months? What about the nonprofit?”

           He tucked his phone away. “It’s still just an idea. I can always start once I get back.”

           She frowned. “Well, I guess I could always get everything rolling while waiting for you.”

           “Regina,” he replied with a sigh. “I think it’s probably best if we don’t work together.”

           Feeling as if she were punched, she struggled to catch her breath. “What? Why?”

           He ran his hand through his hair. “Being with you the past few days has made me happier than I’ve been since losing Marian.”

           “Being with you has made me happy too,” she said, reaching out to take his hand.

           Robin pulled it back. “It also awakened some feelings I thought were long gone but I guess were just suppressed. And though we’ve tried to ignore them, we have had a few close calls. If we work together, I worry that we will do something that will hurt both of us and Daniel.”

           She swallowed, knowing he had a point. And while she had some serious doubts about her relationship with Daniel, she knew she was in no state to make any decision about it just yet. Regina believed she owed it to him and her to try to work through some of their issues. After all, she had loved him once upon a time. Maybe it would return once she dealt with the other stressors in her life.

           And if that were the case, then Robin was right. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them if they were always flirting with temptation around each other.

           “You’re right,” she said softly. “It would’ve been nice to work with you though.”

           “It would’ve,” he agreed, sounding choked up. Pain and anguish filled his eyes and she knew this was as difficult for him as it was for her.

           It provided little comfort.

           “So you’re going to India?” she asked. “When do you leave?”

           “I don’t know. I just got the request and haven’t accepted. But if it was urgent enough for them to email me on Christmas, I imagine I’m going to have to leave soon,” he said.

           She nodded. “And will you come back to Storybrooke?”

           He paused before shaking his head. “Well, I mean I’ll come back to visit but I don’t think I can live here. You know how you said Storybrooke reminds you of your father?”

           “Yes?” Her heart sank, knowing where he was going.

           “Storybrooke reminds me too much of you,” he said. “I don’t think I can live here with all the memories.”

            She nodded. “You deserve a fresh start. Just…let me know where that ends up being? Please?”

            He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Regina.”

            “But we’re friends,” she protested, feeling like a child.

            “You know we can never be just friends,” he said. “This is for the best for everyone. I hope you have a great life, Regina. You deserve it.”

             She nodded, fighting back her tears as her heart broke all over again. Mustering up all her strength, she said: “You too, Robin.”

             He stood and she wanted to as well, wanted to give him one last hug. She knew though that she would never let him go if she did that and she needed to do that. All she wanted was for Robin to be happy.

            And clearly for that to happen, she couldn’t be in his life.

            Once he left the room, she let the tears fall. She sobbed as she curled up on the chair, hugging her knees to her chest. It was just her luck that she would get her best friend back only to lose him again. The universe always found a way to kick her in the teeth it seemed.

            “Regina? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Mary Margaret’s voice was alarmed. Her familiar floral perfume washed over Regina as hands maneuvered her until she was being hugged.

              As she continued to sob, Mary Margaret rocked her. “Does this have anything to do with why Robin also looked like he was on the verge of tears when I passed him a few minutes ago?”

              “Yes,” Regina gasped out. Through her tears, she told Mary Margaret the entire story. She held nothing back, baring her heart to her friend.

               When she finished, her tears had dried up and she was just hiccupping. She sat up as Mary Margaret handed her a box of tissues, looking sympathetic. “Oh, Regina. You’ve had quite a busy week.”

               “Yeah,” Regina replied, blowing her nose. “You can definitely say that again. And now I just feel so lost.”

           Mary Margaret bit her lip before asking: “May I be blunt?”

           “When have you ever asked permission?” Regina teased her, wiping her eyes.

           “I’ve matured a bit over the years,” Mary Margaret replied. She then grew serious. “I know it seems that I’ve barely seen you leading up to the wedding but I’ve been watching you. And there was a marked difference between how you were when you first got here and how you were after you and Robin made up. You were so much happier. It was so great to see.”

           Regina smiled. “That was because I no longer felt like I had to do battle with your cousin.”

           “I think it was more than that,” Mary Margaret replied. “I know my experience of Daniel is limited to just the few hours we’ve spent at dinners but I’ve never seen you glow around him the way you glow around Robin.”

           Though she knew she should defend her fiancé, Regina had to admit her friend had a point. Robin had surprised her just because he wanted to see her smile and she had made time to just spend time with him. She had been able to tell him things she should’ve been able to tell Daniel but couldn’t. He had given her advice and never made her feel wrong for how she felt or what she thought.

           And that said a lot about her relationship with Daniel, didn’t it?

           “I know you don’t believe in fairy tales or the idea of true love,” Mary Margaret continued.

           Regina raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me that Robin is my true love?”

           Her friend shook her head. “I think he’s more than that. You two have been connected since he came to live with my family. You’ve both understood each other on levels I know I would never be able to with either of you. While you both are amazing separately, you are both better when you’re together.”

           “What are you trying to say?” Regina asked, not really sure where Mary Margaret was going.

           “That I think you and Robin are even more than True Love. You are soulmates,” her friend declared.

           Regina had to admit she had a point. She always felt complete when she was with Robin. “I believe in soulmates,” she told Mary Margaret. “But it doesn’t mean they have to be romantic.”

           “True,” Mary Margaret allowed, “but I don’t think that’s the case for you and Robin. I think you two are destined to be together. You just both have to stop being so stubborn about it.”

           “It’s not so much being stubborn as it is everything that happened between us,” Regina said. “And Daniel.”

           Mary Margaret nodded. “Well, I’m not going to tell you what to do. Mostly because you won’t listen anyway but because you need to listen to your heart. It won’t lead you wrong.”

           “Granny told me the same thing yesterday,” Regina told her.

           “Yeah, who do you think I got that off of? She’s the wisest person I know,” Mary Margaret replied, chuckling. She then took Regina’s hand. “Can you promise me you’ll at least listen to your heart?”

           Regina nodded. “I will. After we get you married. And I am an awful maid of honor, crying and burdening you on your wedding day.”

           Mary Margaret shook her head. “No apologies necessary. I’m always your friend and I’m always here for you.”

           “Thank you,” Regina said, hugging her. She pulled back, letting out a shuddering breath. “And I feel better now.”

           “Great!” Mary Margaret declared, beaming.

           Regina patted her hand. “Well, enough about me. It’s time to focus on you, Miss Bride. I have a gift for you.”

           She reached into her bag and pulled out a small box. “Here you go.”

           “Oh, Regina, you shouldn’t have,” Mary Margaret said. She lifted the lid and her eyes went wide. “These look like my mother’s earrings.”

           “That’s because they are replicas. I had them made using a picture of Eva wearing them,” Regina explained. “I know how devastated you were when they got lost and how much you always wanted to wear them at your wedding. I know it’s not exactly the same but I hope it comes close enough. Merry Christmas.”

           Mary Margaret’s eyes watered as she looked up at Regina. “They’re perfect. Thank you so much.”

           She then pulled a present from her bag, handing it over. “This is for you. Merry Christmas, Regina.”

           “Thank you,” she said, pulling off the wrapping paper. Despite her belief that she had no more tears, her eyes began to water as she stared down at the framed picture of her, Mary Margaret and Robin as children. They stood in front of the Blanchard Christmas tree, arms around each other as they smiled for the camera, a bow stuck to Robin’s hair.

           “Our first Christmas with Robin,” she said, sniffling.

           Mary Margaret nodded. “You two always called each other the best present ever.”

           “He was,” Regina said fondly.

           “Maybe he still can be,” Mary Margaret told her, standing. She smiled down at Regina. “Breakfast is in an hour and then we’ll all get ready for the wedding. See you then?”

           Regina nodded absentmindedly, lost in her own thoughts. She brushed her finger over the picture of herself and Robin, both smiling with their arms wrapped around each other, before shaking her head. While she knew she had a lot of things to figure out, she also knew that today wasn’t about that. She tucked the picture away as she focused all her attention on Mary Margaret and David’s wedding. Once they were happily married, then she could start solving her own problems.  

Continue reading on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

[bohemianrhapsody86]

200 Things About Me (originally 200 Things You Can Put In My Ask)

I got this off of @rami-malek-trash - don’t know who the original poster was, sorry if it’s you. I’m bored and cramping and no one usually sends me asks anyway, so I’m just going to answer all of these myself 

200: My crush’s name is: Drew (Now boyfriend, but he was my middle school crush) 199: I was born in: 1986 198: I am really: cool 197: My cellphone company is: T-Mobile 196: My eye color is: green 195: My shoe size is: 9.5/10 194: My ring size is: 9/10 193: My height is: 5′6″ 192: I am allergic to: Nothing 191: My 1st car was: 2001 PT Cruiser 190: My 1st job was: Server at a local pizzeria 189: Last book you read: Startalk: Everything You Ever Need to Know About Space Travel, Sci-Fi, the Human Race, the Universe, and Beyond by Neil DeGrasse Tyson 188: My bed is: Not very comfortable. I need a new mattress, but I need a job first.  187: My pet: A siamese cat named Chico. 186: My best friend: Amanda  185: My favorite shampoo is: I like using Aussie 2-in-1, I also like using Shimmer Lights occasionally so I can keep my gray hairs nice and shiny.  184: Xbox or ps3: PS3 183: Piggy banks are: Cool. I have one that counts my change lol 182: In my pockets: Nothing because they hate putting usable pockets in women’s pants.  181: On my calendar: I marked where I started my period yesterday, and my boyfriends 32nd birthday is next Tuesday.  180: Marriage is: Something I want everyone to have the option for if they want it. 179: Spongebob can: use his imagination 178: My mom: is amazing! 177: The last three songs I bought were? Cool and Sucker by The Jonas Brothers, Don’t really buy many singles, just albums if I’m interested and their cheap.  176: Last YouTube video watched: Brooke Candy - Paper or Plastic 175: How many cousins do you have? Too many to remember 174: Do you have any siblings? Yes, an older brother and older half-sister. 173: Are your parents divorced? Yes, they divorced back in 1999 172: Are you taller than your mom? Yes. We used to be the same height, but gravity has taken a hold of her and squashed her down.  171: Do you play an instrument? I used to play the trombone in middle school, but that was 20 years ago. I’m sure if I ever got my hands on one again, I might remember a scale or two.  170: What did you do yesterday? Went around town job hunting and then bought a maxi dress at a local craft store.  [ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight:Yes 168: Luck: Yes 167: Fate: Yes 166: Yourself: Sometimes 165: Aliens: Yes 164: Heaven: Yes and No 163: Hell: We live there now. 162: God: No 161: Horoscopes: Yes 160: Soul mates: Yes 159: Ghosts: Yes 158: Gay Marriage: Yes 157: War: No 156: Orbs: Yes/No 155: Magic: Yes [ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: Kisses 153: Drunk or High: High  152: Phone or Online: Online 151: Red heads or Black haired: Black haired 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunette 149: Hot or cold: Cold 148: Summer or winter: Winter 147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn 146: Chocolate or vanilla:Chocolate 145: Night or Day: Night 144: Oranges or Apples: Apples 143: Curly or Straight hair: Curly 142: McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds 141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk Chocolate 140: Mac or PC: PC 139: Flip flops or high heals: Flip Flops 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Sweet and Poor 137: Coke or Pepsi: Always been a Pepsi girl 136: Hillary or Obama: Obama 135: Burried or cremated: Cremated and turned into a tree or my ashes made into a vinyl 134: Singing or Dancing: Singing 133: Coach or Chanel: Neither 132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Katherine McPhee 131: Small town or Big city: Small Town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Ben Stiller 128: Manicure or Pedicure: Mani 127: East Coast or West Coast: East Coast - never been to the West Coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Birthday because it sometimes falls on Thanksgiving.  125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate 124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney 123: Yankees or Red Sox: Neither, Cubbies til the day I die.  [ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War: Pointless 121: George Bush: Better than the asshat in office now. 120: Gay Marriage: If I can get married to my boyfriend, the my friend Jerry should be able to get married to his boyfriend, Josh.  119: The presidential election: I hate that orange buffoon.  118: Abortion: I’m pro-choice.  117: MySpace: Always had trouble figuring out my Top 8 and what background I wanted to use.  116: Reality TV: Only thing I really watch are cooking competitions. Those are the only ones that matter. Not a fan of the Kardashians or the Bachelor/ette bullcrap.  115: Parents: My mom is amazing, my ‘dad’ was never really there.  114: Back stabbers: Asshats 113: Ebay: Hardly use it.  112: Facebook: Good to stay in touch with people you want to/some of the groups on there are awesome.  111: Work: Don’t have a job as of yet. *keeps fingers crossed I hear back from someone soon* 110: My Neighbors: Loud AF and nasty. I live in an apartment and the neighbors upstairs have so many kids and animals up there it’s ridiculous. I wish they’d leave.  109: Gas Prices: Ridiculous, but not as bad as I’ve seen it before.  108: Designer Clothes: Meh, not my style unless I find something in my size at Goodwill.  107: College: Been there, done that. Not really for me. Never graduated.  106: Sports: I like watching them, mainly baseball and basketball. The NFL can go fuck themselves.  105: My family: Love my blood relatives and my chosen family.  104: The future: It’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.  [ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: last night when my boyfriend came over and brought me my phone charger.  102: Last time you ate: An hour ago. 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: At my bestie’s baby shower.  100: Cried in front of someone: Sometime last week 99: Went to a movie theater: When Endgame came out 98: Took a vacation: 2010 97: Swam in a pool: A few summers ago 96: Changed a diaper: 2007? 95: Got my nails done: 2007? 94: Went to a wedding: 1999 93: Broke a bone: Never *keeps fingers crossed* 92: Got a peircing: 2012? 91: Broke the law: I probably broke the speed limit yesterday at some point.  90: Texted: about 2am this morning.  [ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: My bestie Amanda and boyfriend Drew 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: my cat. 87: The last movie I saw: Ant-Man  86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: getting a job 85: The thing im not looking forward to: Interviewing for a job 84: People call me: loyal 83: The most difficult thing to do is: finding a job 82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Yep, 77 in a 55. 81: My zodiac sign is: Sun - Sagittarius, Moon - Leo

80: The first person i talked to today was: If you count texting my boyfriend at 2am, then him.  79: First time you had a crush: Sometime in Elemetary School.  78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my mom 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: yesterday 76: Right now I am talking to: myself 75: What are you going to do when you grow up: I have no clue 74: I have/will get a job: soon 73: Tomorrow: Never Comes 72: Today: Is the day 71: Next Summer: Not here 70: Next Weekend: I have no clue 69: I have these pets: 12 year old 17 lb cat named Striper.  68: The worst sound in the world: My cat hacking up a hairball.  67: The person that makes me cry the most is: myself 66: People that make you happy: my mom, brother, sister-in-law, boyfriend, best friend. 65: Last time I cried: sometime last week 64: My friends are: amazing 63: My computer is: pretty cool and loaded up with Sims stuff.  62: My School: I don’t go to school anymore.  61: My Car: gets me there.  60: I lose all respect for people who: disrespect me or my loved one.  59: The movie I cried at was: Endgame 58: Your hair color is: salt & pepper 57: TV shows you watch: Legends of Tomorrow, Worst Cooks in America, Any cooking show really.  56: Favorite web site: Tumblr 55: Your dream vacation: Somewhere away from my town 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: when I had that ovarian cyst. 53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium 52: My room is: messy 51: My favorite celebrity is: too many to list  50: Where would you like to be: in bed 49: Do you want children: nope 48: Ever been in love: yes 47: Who’s your best friend: Amanda 46: More guy friends or girl friends: About the same.  45: One thing that makes you feel great is: music 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: my grandma 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: I don’t even have a 5 minute plan 42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: Kinda, not really 41: Have you pre-named your children: Nope 40: Last person I got mad at: The Dump, but that’s a daily thing.  39: I would like to move to: out of the US 38: I wish I was a professional: crocheter/crafter [ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: Butterfinger Cups 36: Vehicle: Don’t really have one 35: President: Barack Obama 34: State visited: Pennsylvania 33: Cellphone provider: Always been with T-Mobile 32: Athlete: Anthony Rizzo 31: Actor: Tom Hanks 30: Actress: Sandra Bullock 29: Singer: Freddie Mercury 28: Band: Queen 27: Clothing store: Lane Bryant 26: Grocery store: Aldi 25: TV show: Don’t really have one 24: Movie: Too many to count 23: Website: This black hole of a site 22: Animal: Cat 21: Theme park: Don’t really have one. I did enjoy Six Flags over Georgia when I went back in 2002. Dollywood is always fun but it’s been even longer than that since I’ve been there.  20: Holiday: Halloween 19: Sport to watch: Baseball 18: Sport to play: Nothing.  17: Magazine: Entertainment Weekly 16: Book: Harry Potter 15: Day of the week: Thursday 14: Beach: Virginia Beach 13: Concert attended: Jonas Brothers in VA Beach 12: Thing to cook: bacon 11: Food: bacon 10: Restaurant: Hmmm....don’t know that one.  9: Radio station: Classic Hits 102.7...hardly any commercials and they tell you the artist and song title after every song. 70s, 80s, and 90s songs.  8: Yankee candle scent: Don’t have one 7: Perfume: The scented oils from a local curiosity shop have some of my fave scents.  6: Flower: Iris 5: Color: Blue 4: Talk show host: Jimmy Fallon 3: Comedian: I’ve got several 2: Dog breed: Corgi 1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yes.    

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 2 Part 7

Enjoy :) One part left for chapter 2 !

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey holidays from Thursday December 20 to Sunday January 6

In the Smith family, Christmas meant orgy. In the Carrey family, it meant binge. For the blond lad, it meant both. To be clear, of course he didn't had sex with his blood relatives. But with the others... His brother-in-law was more than happy to have a taste of his cock. Each year since the first time they had met by the way. My sister have a good taste in men, I can't control it. He also slept with his mother's bestfriend. The old lady only liked the missionary position, but eh, why not. The delivery girl who brought the pizza really loved his skills with his tongue. Their neighbors were up for a threesome, like last year. Anyway, the day after christmas, he got a call from Zack. They talked for a bit. Then, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey went back to this cute girl which was sucking his dick.

Around the last day of December, he left the town for a special mission. Generally, during the holidays, he just enjoyed himself with as much people as possible. Then, he would focus back in the hunt in January. But the preys were already submissive before the holidays. Usually, one week was enough to catch them. Then they were banging one week or two. And then he started a new hunt. But Liam. Liam was so special. So different. His weakness for food was a very important point. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey was kind of a chef. He liked to cook, and he was the head of the cooking club at the university. He could use this at his advantage. But it's not enough. This baboon will not gave in so easily. The Dean's grandson needed more fucking information. That was why he had bought this ticket. For a soccer game and a special encounter with the players.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey didn't really watch the game. He found a whore in the public who was eager to fuck him, and they spent most of the time in the toilet. But afterwards, he joined the group of VIP, and entenred in the lockroom. It was easy to notice Raphaël Muller among the players. Not only because he was ginger. He had a bloody sex-appeal. He was incredibly handsome, yes, but a coldness also emanated from him. He's a hunter. I can smell it. A satisfied hunter. My complete opposite in a way. When it was Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey's turn to talk to him, he smiled.

"Hi. Liam Strucker talked so much about you. I'm a huge fan."

Raphaël didn't believe him at all. Damnit. Not good.

"Nice to meet you." the ginger lad greeted with a ontuous but cold voice. "It's surprising from Liam, because I don't think he even remembers who I am when I'm not next to him."

"Well, he's absent minded, I know that. You two are close ?"

"I wonder who you are." smiled the other. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you sounds hungry. Not for food."

Now I know why Liam isn't impressed by me at all. He already met quite a specimen. Come here might have been a bad idea. But now, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey was fucked. This dude might become a real pain in his ass.

"Fuck it." he mumbled. "You already guessed what I fucking want from this lucky bastard. Are you going to help or not ? I don't have the whole fucking day."

"I can tell you something you might find useful." conceded Raphaël. "You can't have Liam in your bed if you don't give your heart in exchange. He's one of the last true lover this society produced."

"Don't be so sure about this." retorted the blond lad. "I agree with you, he's a bally authentic. But I can corrupt him."

"You're cocky."

"You too dude."

In other circumstances, we would get along so well. Sex with him must be amazing. However, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey had finally learnt something important. This hunt was his very last. The hunt of his life.

For the New Year, he obviously had a lot of sex. With a lot of people. He went to a party with former highschool buddies, and banged some of them. In groups. In the morning, he met Zack, and they had a good time together, but no sex. He knew where to put limits. Then, he headed back in the campus. Summer picked him up at the airport.

"Glad to see you." she greeted him. "I hope your holidays went well ?"

"Focus on the road you cunt. I don't want to die because you don't know how to drive."

"Sorry."

Damnit, she was a real stupid cow. When they arrived, he asked :

"Did Liam came back already ?"

"Yeah. He's studying with his roommate." she answered. "Why ? Do you give up ?"

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey looked at her, surprised.

"Why would I dummy ?"

"It's the first time I see you struggling so much."

Moron. Fucking useless fuckwit. She's dumber everytime I see her. It's time to reawaken her competitive's spirit. He already knew someone perfect to bring some competition. A little roach ready to do eveything he asked for in order to be a ruler. And now, it was time to begin the hunt again.

Liam Monday January 7

The first exam didn't go well for the poor lad. The next will be as difficult... Not only he didn't study much, but he also had been daydreaming during the test. I couldn't focus because there was a weird cloud. (For real, it looked like a giraffe).

"Look at her." muttered Nick next to him. "Walking like a queen. And to think that we were friend."

Liam glanced at Rebecca. Apparently, the girl had sent to his roommate a letter he didn't liked at all. During his holidays, he mostly played videogames and stuffed his face. But he probably passed the test anyway. I'm not this lucky. Maybe I should try some magic trick. (Seriously, magic was powerful). (Once, he saw a rabbit stepping out from a hat !).

"Liam dude. Wake up."

The chestnut lad stared at Nick. Then he noticed Pete and a girl. They were all looking at him, a bit worried.

"Yes, what ?"

"Sorry, you didn't hear what I just said ?" Pete was amazed. "Well, this is Leila Hart, a classmate. She said she needed to meet you so..."

Liam greeted her politely. I saw her somewhere. She looks familiar, but I forgot where I met her. (Definitely, Liam the absent minded was back). (Better than Liam the depressed tho).

"I'm Colton's twin sister." she said. "You're the guy who knows Barbara, right ?"

"Hum, yeah. Why ?"

He had a bad feeling about this. His old friend resented him for what happened to his ex boyfriend. What did she tell to her friends ?

"Well, she just broke up with Colton, supposedly because he's your friend and she doesn't like this. And look, I don't wanna know why she hates you. But I want my twin brother to be happy, and this slut just ditched him like a trash. But I think he's deeply in love with her, so can you talk to her ?"

Oh. Crap. Well, at least he had one good week with Nate. (Now, he was sure a powerful and strong witch cursed him). (Or a Lich, but whatever, he was doomed). He wanted to lay down right here  in recovery position and just wait. But he promised his bestfriend to make an effort. Nick nudged him.

"Dude, stop stargaze and answer to the girl."

"Sorry. Well, I'll need to talk to Colton first, but I'll see what I can do."

"Good." stated Leila. "Because if you don't, trust me I will smash your pretty face in."

After this sweet encounter with Colton's twin sister, Nick and Liam hit the canteen. They also started to review the exam of this afternoon. At least until Dami showed up. The blond lad sat at their table and smiled softly.

"Hi dudes. I hope you're succeeding those exams ?" he greeted them. "Look, I won't be long. Liam, I have a little something for you. A gift for good luck."

The chestnut lad had never realised before how scary Dami's eyes were before. The poor man probably suffered from a malediction too. (It was plausible). (Witches could be so mean with innocent boy and girl all around the world). The blond lad suddenly slapped him.

"Hey Liam, I'm talking to you. Here, take this."

He offered a pie. An aromatic, appetising pie.

"Thank you Dami."

This one gnahsed his teeth, but forced a smile. He wished them good luck and left. Nick took a slice of the pie and comentated :

"Your relationship is so weird. This dude gives me the shivers. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey, brr..."

"He's nice." assured Liam while taking a slice too. "And his pie is succulent."

At the end of the afternoon, the chestnut lad had an appointment he didn't want to go. But his mother wanted him to see a shrink. She had called him yesterday, and she had said how much she loved him. She wasn't blaming him, but herself, and she was sorry for everything. (At this point, he had felt worst than before but a bit relieved too). And so Liam met his new psychologist. It was a nice woman, Ms. Hang, who greeted him kindly. Nonetheless, for half an hour, they didn't speak much. The couch was comfy, and he liked it. He spent the time thinking about unrelated stuff. (For example, as someone ever wondered how to transform into an angel ?) (Because angel were humans blessed by god, weren't they ?) Eventually, the shrink asked :

"Maybe we should talk about those panic attacks, don't you think Liam ?"

"I don't know, should we ?"

He honestly didn't want to. He was fine. (Okay, maybe not totally fine but you got the point).

"Do you think I'm judging you ?"

"Isn't it your job ?"

"No Liam it's not. Do you feel unconfortable with judgment ?"

She asks so many questions. I want to go to sleep. It was a complete waste of time for both of them. But maybe she would agree to let him take a nap on her couch.

"Our session is almost over." she smiled. "Wanna know what I wrote on my notebook ?"

"Not really."

"I think you're running away from your problems as fast as you can." she said anyway. "You're not trusting people easily are you ? After what happened with your family and your ex-boyfriend in 12th grade, you started to be more and more dreamy, disconnected from the reality. All that in order to avoid facing reality. And it became natural. But it's not always working is it ? Sometimes, you can't just ignore the problem right in front of you."

"I don't like you anymore." he grumbled. "Neither your couch."

"We'll work with all this. Even the couch if you want. I'm not a life fixer, I can't change what you or your parents did. But I'll help you to face it. That's my job."

"You'll make me judge me ?"

She didn't answer, a bit surprised by his summary. The session ended like this. He wasn't sure it really helped but... at least his mother would be pleased. (And he had found a nice couch, he was eager to search the same for his appartment). He would be back next week anyway.

Rebecca Wednesday January 9

Until now, exams went well. After all, the black girl had spent her whole holidays studying. However, this evening, she had something else in mind. Matthew was supposed to come soon, and they would start the plan. But before that, she needed Bob to leave. For now, his coach was checking her computer. She was feeling betrayed. I thought I could trust you, but you're on my parent's side. According to him, she wasn't in good condition for the Olympics without his monitoring. Rebecca wanted to go to the Olympics, but it wasn't fair. Both her parents and Bob used it as an excuse to control her life.

"It seems everything is fine..." started her coach. "...except one curious thing. Why did you make a research about this Nicolas Lawson ?"

Oh shit. I had deleted my history... It was just to check what Liam had said. Nick actually was a genius.

"I got it my girl. He's still harassing you, isn't he ? I'm gonna talk with him."

"No. That won't be necessary Bob." she said. "He came to me to apologise. We're good now, I'm never seing him again. You've my word."

"Okay. But remember, you can always come to me if you need help."

She nodded. I just avoided a major crisis. She lied to Bob, because Nick was just mad. Really, really mad. And the more she lied about him, the more she felt ashamed. I never thanked him for everything he had done. And he's taking care of Liam. I misjudged him since the very beginning.

Once Bob finally left, she changed for the plan. She wore a slinky dress, emphazising her forms.The sophomore arrived a bit later with Chelsea. He complimentated her, and sat in her sofa with a smile.

"Today we'll free you. Emilio isn't aware of what's happening ?"

"No, I managed to keep it secret."

Since monday, her imposed boyfriend was more and more possessive. He was following her almost everywhere, always with an hand on her shoulder. From outside, he seemed a bit overprotective. But for her, he was a real tyrant. And tonight, she expected to put an end at all this.

"So, who's the guy I'll have sex with ?" she asked. "I made myself a reason, as you said it's just sex, nothing more. I'm ready."

"That would be me." answered Matthew with a grin.

What ? He wasn't joking at all. But he's with Chelsea. They're a fuckin' couple. The nurse wasn't surprised. She even looked okay with it. Shit. I should decline.

"Before you change your mind, just think about it." whispered the sophomore. "I'm here, so it's easy to do it right now. And I have a girlfriend, so I won't be emotionally tempted. It's worth a shot."

"I'm fine with it." added Chelsea. "C'mon Rebbie, my Matt is a good lay !"

The black girl hesitated. Maybe he was expecting this the whole time. Maybe it's only a plan for him to have sex. She looked at him more closely. A bit taller than her, he was blond with blue eyes. He was well-dressed, quite hunky with a kinda pretty face. She never had thought about him that way but in truth, he wasn't ugly.

"It's your only chance to get rid of Emilio." he reminded. "No one except me will help you."

"Okay. Let's do this."

They went alone in her bedroom. Matthew took his phone out of his pocket and smiled again.

"I'm gonna film the whole thing as a proof for Emilio. Okay ?"

Really ? Is it necessary ? She tried to contest, but he suddenly kissed her intensely. He pushed her onto the bed and laid over her.

"I'll be gentle." he assured. "I promise."

While kissing her, he took off their clothes. At this point, she was too horny to discuss. It was just sex, like Ollie had said. I can do this. It'll be fine. Matthew had a bigger penis than she expected. And he knew how to use it. One orgasm became two. And then three. She couldn't stop, he neither. They were moaning strongly. Suddenly, the door opened. Emilio stormed in, beside himself. He looked completely mad. His eyes were enraged, his face disfigured with anger. What the hell is he doing here ?! Rebecca hid her body with the blanket, terrified. It was bad. Really, really bad.

"Hey dude." smiled Matthew, not surprised at all. "You took your time."

"I just didn't believe when Chelsea came sayin' you were sleeping with my girlfriend !" yelled Emilio. "How dare you do this a second time ?"

What ? A second time ? What does that even mean ?

"I'm a thief." laughed Matt. "And you're a patsy. Not my fault."

"She's my girlfriend !" screamed the mexican guy. "She loves me."

"Does she ? Ask her man. It's like Chelsea, she didn't like you either. A home-hunter, who could live with someone like this ?"

Rebecca was still stunned. Her brain started to work slowly. Chelsea was with Emilio ? How come I didn't know this ? She also remembered what she read about thief hunter. They liked to steal other's lovers. It was an article of someone livin' in the town, with the pseudo D.R.. She probably could trust it.

"Rebecca." mumbled Emilio. "You love me right ?"

She didn't hesitate long. After all, Matthew was there.

"No. Not anymore. You're scaring me, and I don't want to see you again."

"She's brave isn't she ?" laughed the sophomore. "Get the fuck off Emilio."

He did what they asked. He left, just like that. Is it over ? So easily ? Rebecca couldn't believe Matthew's plan worked.

"You're free." stated this latter. "I don't think he'll come back around anytime soon. Now... Do you want to discover something very nice with Chelsea and me ?"

To be continued

So we’re almost done with Chapter 2.

The hunt is going well, Damian is getting very invested hehe. He wants Liam and he knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach ;)

Will Liam be pleased or not, we’ll see that soon.

As for Rebecca well, she escaped the home-hunter, but now she’s with a thief. So will she accepts that or not ?

[carmenlire]

Color Me Blue Ch. IV

read chapter one

read chapter two

read chapter three

read on ao3

Magnus is just taking his pecan sandies out of the oven when he hears the bell chime at the front door.

Carefully placing his tray on his stainless steel work table, he throws the towel he’d used as an oven mitt over his shoulder and heads to the public floor of the bakery.

He’s delighted when he sees none other than Alec walking up to the counter.

“If it isn’t my favorite doctor,” Magnus teases and ignores the niggling guilt for throwing Catarina under the bus.

Alec smiles warmly at him and it takes considerable effort for Magnus to keep his swooning under control. Alec’s visited the bakery every day since Christmas, albeit at unpredictable hours.

Magnus is only open from the early morning to mid afternoon and Alec had shown up at any and every hour. A few days ago he’d wandered in just a few minutes after Magnus had unlocked the front door. Still in his scrubs, he had sheepishly admitted that he was on a fifteen minute break and missed his hot chocolate.

Alec had ended up staying almost half an hour and all but running out the door as Magnus's laughter followed after him.

It's only been a week since he first met Alec but he’s quickly become the highlight of his day. Magnus spent most of yesterday thinking up recipes that Alec might like and he’d been torn between two different ones. Based on his preference for chocolate, Magnus had been playing around with a triple fudge brownie that was sure to blow Alec’s socks off.

He’d attempted his first batch earlier in the morning and before Alec can say anything, Magnus is reaching for them. They aren’t bad but they aren’t perfect either. There was something missing and Magnus knew that he most likely had another half a dozen attempts before the brownies were ready for unfettered access to his display case.

“If it isn’t my favorite baker,” Alec says without missing a beat.

“What brings you in today, Alexander?”

“It’s been a remarkably slow afternoon and I thought I’d go off campus for lunch today.”

Magnus narrows his eyes as he considers Alec’s words. He slides the brownie over to him on a custom plate he’d had designed for his bakery when was first thinking of opening the space and watches Alec’s expression carefully.

Alec doesn’t say anything and neither does Magnus as he takes a bite. Magnus watches him with an eagle gaze and reaches for a pad of paper and a pencil, ready to take notes.

He gives Alec enough time to swallow the first bite before his patience reaches its limits.

“Well, what do you think, darling? You're trying my first attempt at a triple fudge brownie and I’d love to know your thoughts.”

Alec hums a little but before he offers an opinion, he takes another bite that’s half the size of the baked good.

“It’s amazing,” he says, mouth disgustingly full.

Magnus wrinkles his nose but he can’t stop the faint hint of fondness that creeps into his tone as he replies, “I need more than that. What’s missing? What works and what doesn’t? If I’m going to put these on my rotational menu, then they need to be the best brownies you’ve ever eaten.”

“They’re pretty good.” Alec sends him a tentative look before adding, “They might be missing something though if you’re aiming for the best brownie ever.”

Sighing, Magnus replies, “That’s what I thought but I can’t think of anything to add. I’ve got dark chocolate batter, semisweet chocolate chips, and fudge icing. I don’t know what I can throw in that won’t overpower everything.”

Thinking about it, Alec polishes off the brownie. He looks at Magnus one last time for confirmation that he really is looking for the truth before hesitantly offering, “What if you added sea salt? That--”

“Could cut through the overwhelming chocolate flavor. Excellent,” Magnus exclaims and he starts furiously writing on his notepad.

“Glad I could help,” Alec says dryly but Magnus only half-hears him as he thinks about how to incorporate salt. He could bake the salt directly into the batter? Or will people want to see the salt flakes in the icing--

Magnus’s thinking is interrupted by the clearing of a throat. He looks up only to meet Alec’s expectant look. He looks equal parts like he’s waiting for something and like he doesn’t really want to interrupt Magnus and Magnus feels a warm sense of fondness for him.

Really, Alec is too cute for words sometimes, Magnus thinks and raises a brow at his favorite customer.

“Yes, darling? What is it?”

“Can I have another brownie,” Alec asks, looking down at the display case where there are only a few left. Even if Magnus wasn’t particularly in love with them-- yet-- his customers today had been eager to try something new from him.

“Of course,” Magnus says absently, going back to his notepad. “As long as you wash your hands first you can help yourself.”

Magnus chews on the end of his pencil as he thinks about ratios. He could start with half a teaspoon in the batter and see how that works out or add to the batter and the top with a sprinkle-- really, the possibilities are endless.

It takes him a minute but Magnus slowly becomes aware that Alec hasn’t moved from his spot. He looks up to see Alec staring at him with a surprised look.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure,” Alec asks, voice tentative. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds and go behind the counter.”

Magnus waves that away. “I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t mean it. I’d think that I could trust you to get a brownie by this point.”

“We haven’t known each other that long,” Alec protests, moving around the counter to the sink by the espresso machine. He washes his hands and Magnus can’t help the way his eyes drift over Alec’s back, down to an ass that he definitely wouldn’t mind getting his hands on.

He startles, snapping his head up as Alec looks over his shoulder at him. Clearing his throat, Magnus dryly replies, “There’s just something about you. I trust you with my pastries, Alexander. Don’t make me regret it.”

Alec laughs as he dries his hands on a towel before turning toward the display case. He carefully selects another brownie-- a corner piece, Magnus notes-- and dumps it on his plate.

“Thanks,” Alec murmurs and Magnus makes a sound of agreement before he looks up unexpectedly.

“That isn’t lunch,” Magnus accuses.

“Sorry,” Alec asks, startled.

“You said that you were here for lunch. You can’t eat two brownies and call that a meal. Not only is that extremely unhealthy but it won’t sustain you on your four day shift.”

“I get off work at ten tonight.”

“See,” Magnus asks, sending Alec a victorious look. “Wait here,” he grumbles and starts toward the back.

He comes out just a couple of minutes later with half a sandwich and a bag of chips. Without saying anything, he moves to one of the tables in the front of the bakery and plops down. When Alec looks at him, confusion written all over his face, Magnus just waves expansively to the seat across from him.

“I didn’t eat all of my lunch so you can have the rest. At least this way you won't get a stomach ache from too many sweets,” he mutters, pushing the plate further onto Alec’s side of the table.

Magnus has a brief moment to worry that he’d been too forward but Alec brings his half eaten brownie with him and sits down. He smiles at Magnus.

“I can’t eat your food,” he says and Magnus rolls his eyes.

“Of course you can, Alexander, don’t be silly. Not only am I offering it to you but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you ended up working a fourteen hour surgery on a couple of brownies.” Magnus infuses his voice with grave responsibility and Alec laughs, shaking his head as he slowly reaches for the sandwich.

Alec snorts. “Dork,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for Magnus to hear.

“Takes one to know one,” Magnus fires back and Alec barks out a laugh before taking his first bit of the sandwich.

“Ham,” he mutters. “My favorite.”

Magnus beams at the admission and the two of them enjoy several minutes of conversation as Alec eats his lunch. Magnus even grabs a mug of tea, settling back in his seat as Alec starts on the chips.

It’s perfectly ordinary but Magnus finds that he can’t remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much over a meal. Alec is an interesting man and has no trouble keeping the conversation going.

For someone he didn’t know a week ago, Magnus reflects that Alec’s quickly become a friend.

The conversation winds down and Magnus takes their dishes to the back while Alec cleans up the small mess he’d made.

Magnus gets back to the table just as Alec stands up. They bump into each other and Magnus reaches out a hand on reflex, laying it against Alec’s side to steady him.

Alec looks up before he freezes. Curious, Magnus follows the direction of his gaze and freezes too as he sees what’s hanging over their heads.

Damn it, he thinks. I should have taken my Christmas decorations down by now.

It’s December 29th and Magnus usually takes them down the day after Christmas. He’d been distracted the past few days, though, and hadn’t gotten to them yet.

There’s a mistletoe above them and when Magnus lowers his head it’s to see Alec already looking at him with that laser-focused stare that makes Magnus unforgivably breathless.

There’s a moment, suspended in time, and Magnus knows that it’s not just his imagination when Alec’s eyes drop to his mouth.

On reflex, his tongue darts out to wet his lips and Alec shifts imperceptibly closer. Magnus is just leaning in, eyes closing, when the silence of the bakery is startled by noise.

They both flinch back and Magnus uses the space to clear his head as Alec’s hand goes to the beeper at his waist. He looks at the number before cursing, looking back up at Magnus as he starts toward the door, an apology already forming on his lips.

“I’m sorry Magnus but apparently there was a fourteen car pile-up on the Manhattan Bridge and they’re being directed to Tisch. I have to be there when the first ambulance arrives.”

Magnus is nodding as Alec explains, already waving him away. “Go do your job, darling. I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way.”

Alec steps back until he reaches the front door. He hesitates-- looks ready to say something-- but he closes his mouth and nods to himself before turning on his heel and striding down the sidewalk.

The door closes behind him, the little bell jarring in the new silence.

Magnus frowns as he heads to the counter. Looking at the clock he sees that he passed closing time a few minutes ago and starts to take away the remaining pastries from the case to pack them up.

He never has too much left over-- thank God-- but whatever he does have at the end of each day is wrapped up and sent to a few shelters around the city. It’s not much but Magnus hates the idea of wasting perfectly fine food just because it’s a day old.

He uses the next hour to prep some of his dough for the morning and he’s just cleaning the last of his work table when his cell starts vibrating.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he smiles as he sees the caller.

“Hello dear,” he says, answering the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know damn well why I’m calling Magnus. My party is day after tomorrow and you still haven’t told me if you’re bringing a date.”

Magnus scowls at Catarina’s quick response as he unties the apron from around his waist and hooks it over the door.

“I believe I still have two days before you get your greedy little fingers on my dating life.”

“Don’t you see? I have to plan. If you don’t already have someone in mind, I was going to invite the doctor I told you about.”

Sighing, Magnus stares at the door where he’d watched Alec make a mad dash from earlier. He thinks about that charged moment under the mistletoe and can’t decide if he’s annoyed or relieved that Alec had been called to work.

Thinking about Catarina's New Year’s Eve party, Magnus is exhausted just thinking about trying to make small talk with a stuffy doctor. He’d much rather spend the night with Alexander but Magnus very much fears that he’d just watched his chances for a date go up in smoke with Alec’s retreat.

Truthfully, there’s no one else that he’d want to bring anyway. There's not even a hint of interest for anyone else and Magnus doesn’t have the time or inclination to try to find someone else on such short notice.

Cat is silent on the line, letting Magnus think things through, and Magnus resolves to ask Alec tomorrow if he'd like to join him at the New Year’s Eve party when he comes in for his usual hot chocolate and pastry. The worst that can happen is he says no and Magnus decides then and there that he won’t let said rejection ruin the budding friendship they have.

He really hopes Alec says yes, though.

Plan of action in mind-- Magnus can always tell Cat that he found a date after all and can be careful to avoid any other doctors at the party-- Magnus grudgingly admits, “I don’t have a date yet.”

Catarina laughs-- far more than Magnus thinks is appropriate. “I have to say I’m glad to hear that. I’m telling you Magnus, this guy is perfect for you. You like them handsome and a bit of an asshole and he’s got both those things in spades. He’s a secret softie though,” Cat continues conspiratorially. “He always sneaks lollipops to the kids that come to the ER and he once sat with a wife for hours while she waited for her husband to wake up from a baseball injury. He just doesn’t like anyone to know.”

“Why does he need your help getting a date if he’s so perfect,” Magnus asks, not willing to admit that her description does seem to suit him.

“Didn’t you hear me? He’s a bit of an asshole. He usually looks annoyed and most of the staff here try not to get in his way. Plus, he might have a tendency to work a little more than he should.”

“Oh, don’t tell me this doctor is a workaholic,” Magnus says sarcastically. “I have yet to meet one that didn’t eat, breathe, and sleep their career.”

“I think he just needs to realize that there’s life outside of the hospital. Just give him a chance, Magnus, and if it doesn’t work out I’ll back off. I promise.”

Magnus mulls getting Catarina off his back versus having to put up with a doctor all evening. Unfortunately, if Alec doesn’t pull through, it really isn’t much of a choice.

“Okay, dear,” Magnus sighs. “We have a deal.”

He hears Catarina cheer from the other end of the line and rolls his eyes at her penchant for drama. It rivals Ragnor’s, which is saying quite a lot.

The two of them chat for a few more minutes before hanging up and Magnus goes through the rest of his closing routine without further interruption. He locks Bane’s Bakery and starts walking in the direction of his apartment, huddling in his coat to keep warm against the vicious New York wind.

He spends most of his commute home thinking about Alec. He’s already thinking about making a batch of salted fudge brownies tomorrow and can’t wait to see Alec’s reaction.

The rest of the night passes with little fanfare and Magnus goes to bed dreadfully early as always and wake before the sun the next morning.

Most of the day passes in a blur. The bakery is busier than usual and it’s almost noon before Magnus comes up for air.

Every time the door opens, he hopes it’s Alec. It’s not until he’s closing at two, though, that Magnus realizes that Alec never came in. This is the first time in days that he hasn’t seen Alec and Magnus is overwhelmingly disappointed.

It’s not until Alec doesn’t come in on December 31st, though, that Magnus wonders whether or not Alec is avoiding him.

Replaying their last afternoon together, Magnus wonders if that mistletoe mishap meant more to him than it did to Alec and if Alec hadn’t decided to make a strategic yet subtle retreat.

Getting ready for the party that evening, Magnus hopes that this doctor Catarina is so excited over likes to drink because Magnus plans on ringing in the New Year drunk enough not to care that the most interesting man he’d met in the past year didn’t see him like that.

With a sigh, he picks up his wine bottle that he’d bought as a hostess gift and leaves the loft, headed to Catarina’s party and a date that he couldn’t care less about.

[amyscascadingtabs]

you must be my once in a lifetime

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

Or, how Amy figured out she wanted to marry Jake.

2976 words // read on ao3

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.

It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

She had never put marriage or kids on the physical life calendar. It was too risky, too uncontrollable and had too elevated of a risk being broken. Thinking about spending her forever with someone had given her more than one panic attack before, and she wasn’t even excessively scared of commitment. She was purely... cautious. She was hesitant to be sure about a thing so definite as forever when death threats and time spent undercover seemed an unavoidable part of the career path she had chosen. And did she really want to settle down only because it was expected of her? No, marriage had been the last thing on her mind for so long the first time Amy thought about it, it shocked even her.

~

Jake had stayed over at her apartment countless times before. She was as used as she could be to waking up to the cutest of light snores and the ever impressive bedhead, and yet this time was special. He wasn’t staying over. He was home.

Yesterday had been a long day of unpacking boxes and laughing over the unreal absurdity of the fact that their possessions were now crammed into the same two-bedroom Brooklyn apartment. After a celebratory pizza dinner eaten straight from the box while they sat on the counter, complete with toasting in orange soda and wine respectively, they were officially living together. His sneakers were on her shoe rack, the skincare products she’d bought him for Christmas had taken place next to her own in the bathroom cabinets, and a single Die Hard poster adorned the inside of the closet where neatly ironed pantsuits and flannels now hung side by side. For the first time in her since-college life, Amy Santiago was living together with someone else.

Her waking up first was the norm rather than it was unusual. With Teddy she’d often found herself bored to death waiting for him to wake up, had even made a habit of going for a run in the morning so she wouldn’t have to lay there idly for at least an hour. She’d never needed an escape-plan with Jake. With him she could lay there for what felt like forever, listening to the sound of his breathing, smiling when she sometimes heard her own name mixed in with the incoherent mumbles he made in his sleep. She could admire the ruffled hair and the sight of him in either a baggy t-shirt or nothing at all, stare at him for exactly as long as she wanted without anyone asking what the hell she was doing, and after the six months they had spent apart earlier she never wanted to stop.

The bed was so much warmer with him in it, a godsend blessing to her always cold self. Moving closer to him so she could obtain more of the welcomed heat, she took the moment in act to press a few lazy kisses to the little dip in his shoulder.

“Mm-hmm”, he responded to this action, voice still heavy with sleep. “Morning, Ames.”

“Morning, Jake.”

“Time is it?”

“Half past eight.”

“S’early. “ He feigned annoyance, putting his right arm around her to draw her so close she was practically on top of him. “Need more sleep.”

“Jake, we shouldn’t waste a whole day because we have off. We should get up and eat breakfast.” An idea popped into her head. “I can make pancakes.”

“Oh, no .” The look on his face as she said this was one of genuine horror. “I’m not letting you almost burn down my kitchen again.”

“ My kitchen? Excuse me - since when is this your kitchen?”

“Since yesterday! And I’m not letting you set fire to it.”

“Okay, then.” She reluctantly moved to allow him the chance to get out of bed. “You’re in charge of pancakes.”

“For you and only for you, Amy Santiago.”

She helped set the table and make coffee while he whisked together the ready-made mix and flipped imperfect, but guaranteedly less burnt than hers would have been, pancakes. Maybe , Amy thought when they sat down to eat, the two of them could do this for a long time .

~

The m-word wasn’t yet explicitly on her mind. Somewhere in the background, though, she could feel it hiding.

It hid there as winter turned into spring and the cherry blossom trees in Central Park started blooming, as she booked the sergeant’s exam with shaking hands and created a notoriously detailed schedule to have time for studying, work and little bouts of free-time where she could get them.

It hid there when she and Jake babysat Terry’s kids and she listened to him try to explain racism to two four-year-olds without frightening them. When they left Terry’s house still chatting about what an exhausting but also rewarding of an experience babysitting had been, she had sworn she could feel the voice in her head change from kids are out of the picture to if I want kids, I want them with him .

It hid there when he found her on the rooftop of 397 Barton Street, convinced her to take the exam and promised of course things would change between them if she passed , but change wasn’t always a bad thing. She’d linked hands with him as they walked to his favourite ice cream place after the test to celebrate, thinking once again maybe they really were in this for good.

It hid there in the car at Flaxton Hill farms when she promised she would wait those fifteen years if she had to, would keep working and fighting and doing it all for him. It hid there when she gasped for breath after the jury declared him guilty and it hid there when the first visiting day finally came and she got to hug him and breathe in his scent for a few dreamlike seconds. It hid there when she finally calmed down after an hour-long panic attack in the car as they were about to leave, because Boyle didn’t know how to help her through them like Jake did and she needed Jake there with her , now and maybe even forever.

~

“I’m never letting you go again”, she whispered when he was finally filling up the space in their bed that had been empty for those eight, long weeks of prison.

“Good”, he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, close until there was no space between them at all. “Because I’m not leaving.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

“I love you.” He kissed the top of her head, cupping her face with both his hands to look into her eyes. “So much. I missed you so much. And as much as I thought about sex with you while in prison, which I promise was loads and definitely more than I thought about the food I wished I was eating, I think I’m going to pass out if we don’t go to sleep now so it’s going to have to wait.”

“A true romantic.” She laughed and pressed a last kiss for the night to his lips before closing her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re here. There will be other nights.”

“So many other nights”, he agreed.

Maybe the rest of our lives , the voice in her head whispered. I really want it to be the rest of our lives.

~

“I think I want to marry him”, she admitted to her two year younger brother, Tony, in the end of a long phone call where he’d originally called her to get a big sister’s opinion on a girl he’d started seeing.

(“You’re good with love stuff”, he explained when she asked him why he was calling her for romantic advice. “How are things going with Jake, anyway?”)

“Well, maybe you should. You guys seem pretty solid.”

“He literally just got out of prison. I don’t think it’s the greatest time to propose.”

“You don’t have to do it now. But you could - I don’t know - set a date? Mark a random date a few months from now and decide if he hasn’t proposed by then, you’ll do it.”

“...Actually not a terrible idea.” She reached for her pen and notepad to scribble a date down, the first she remembered.   14th of January 2018 - the four year anniversary of their post-bet-date, exactly three months away. “Thanks. How… when did you get so supportive of me getting married, anyway?”

“Because I’ve only seen you with him once, but in all of the time I spent growing up with you I still don’t think I ever saw you so happy. Not even when you won your school’s Math competition in sixth grade or when you got into the academy.” He coughed, and although it wasn’t a video call she could swear he was blushing. “If you tell any of our other siblings I got all emotional on the phone with you - “

“I won’t, Tony. Promise.”

She folded the note carefully after drawing a heart around the date, then hid it in one of her old art history books where she knew Jake wouldn’t go looking.

~

Seventeen days later his proposal still took her entirely by surprise. It was all she’d ever dreamt of, butt-mentions and all, casually moving her to tears when Jake admitted planning the heist turned proposal was the one thing which truly kept him sane during prison.

“We’re getting married!” They repeated it to each other between kisses over and over while celebrating at Shaw’s, her strict rules about limited PDA becoming decreasingly strict the later it got and the more drinks she had.

“Everyone heard you the first time, you don’t have to keep repeating it”, said Rosa with a swig of her beer. Jake’s gaze didn’t stray from Amy’s as he answered.

“Too bad, because I’m never going to shut up about it.”

She tried out the words for the first time in her mind the next morning, whispering them over and over to herself.

Jake Peralta, my husband.

She loved the sound of them as much as she loved the sight of the gorgeous ring on her finger.

~

Even when all of her careful planning for the perfect wedding was shattered into smithereens by a bomb threat, the ceremony still ended up being the most wonderful memory of her life. It wasn’t even remotely close to what they’d planned, but it was beautiful and it was them and nothing could have made it more perfect.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”, she told him after her vows, meaning every word of it and more.

Had anyone told Amy back when she’d just started enjoying the company of her immature but entertaining deskmate she would be sliding a thin gold band onto his left ring finger one day, she wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing. Jake Peralta, growing up enough to want to settle down? Unlikely. Her, falling for the goofy grin that absolutely did not make her heart skip a beat sometimes? Not happening. The two of them becoming something other than two strictly professional colleagues who were both highly skilled at their profession? Never. Until they did.

She’d fallen for his ability to make her laugh, stumbled again for the unusual yet fascinating way his mind jumped to conclusions in its own way, and tumbled right down a rapidly descending hill for the way he showed he genuinely cared about her whether it was as a friend or as something more. And yes, fine, he was stupidly attractive as well. The smirk had done things to her from the start, but so had the soft brown eyes making her feel at home when she looked into them, so had the hands she kept imagining roaming her body whenever she let herself look at them for more than a split second.

Three years of being in a relationship with him had taught her not only an unreasonable amount of Die Hard facts and too many Taylor Swift lyrics for her liking, but also the charm of sometimes breaking rules and allowing things to be unpredictable. It had taught her even though they appeared so different, their competitiveness and passion made them strikingly similar when it came to the important things. He had grown up a little, learned how showing emotions didn’t equal death and preparing for things could be of great benefit sometimes. She had learned relaxing a little didn’t automatically lead to the worst outcome, and even if it did, he would be right there with her to handle the consequences.

(She had also learned Jake Peralta was a great kisser.)

(Great at other stuff, too.)

( God , she was lucky.)

How could she not want forever with that?

~

“Crazy to think the two of you are married”, said Rosa when they were all at Shaw’s after the ceremony, sipping the glass of whiskey she’d asked for after Amy insisted she would buy her a drink as a thank you for the bouquet and attempt at fixing the veil. “Gina and I were betting on how long you two would make it when you first got together, but neither of us thought you’d last more than a month.”

“Why not?”

“Felt unlikely, I guess. Never thought you’d date someone from work, or someone who wasn’t the single most boring man you could find. Kind of seemed to be your type for a while. But you surprised us all. Well done.” She raised his half-full glass to her friend’s champagne flute. “Jake’s earned himself one hell of a badass wife.”

“Wife. Sounds so official.” Amy faked a shudder. “No going back.”

“Not unless you get a divorce. Don’t get a divorce, please - Charles would probably kill himself”, her best friend and fellow sleuth sister added.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing one.” She looked over at her husband, perched on a barstool talking to Gina, warmth and affection emanating from the knowing smile he aimed at her upon meeting her gaze. “I haven’t gotten to say the words my husband nearly enough times yet.”

“God, you two are going to be so annoying from now on”, Rosa groaned.

~

They slept in late the next morning, feeling rather well-deserved of some rest after yesterday’s chaos.

“Hey.” She flinched awake at the sound of Jake’s voice, still raspy from sleep, next to her ear. “Morning, wife.”

“Morning, husband.” Saying the word sent a warm, tingling sensation through her body. “You woke up before me.”

“Not by a lot. It’s boring being awake without you.” He kissed her temple, once, twice. “Then again - every single day I get to be with you at all is crazy to me.”

“I recognize that. Is it a Harry Potter quote, by any chance?” She teased, dragging her left hand through his hair to draw him closer and kiss him, not even caring about morning breath when he was right there and real and her husband.

“For practically having made them up on the spot during our impromptu wedding outside a police precinct, I think my vows are actually better than a Harry Potter quote.”

“You think your wedding vows are better than ‘Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light’?” Amy gasped, doing her best attempt at looking offended.

“I’m saying they’re up there, somewhere.” There was the goofy grin again, melting what little attitude she was trying to gather. “Also, you’re wrong about best Harry Potter quote. The best one is clearly ‘Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all those who live without love’.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with the help of Harry Potter quotes?”

“Is it working?” She kissed him again in response, with more passion and intensity now than the lazy kisses of before.

“I can’t believe my husband is a giant nerd.”

“Hey! That’s ‘giant nerd who read those books because his wife loves them so much’ to you, thank you.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He laced his left hand into hers, admiring the sight of their identical gold rings gleaming in the sunshine seeping through their blinds. “Ready for our first breakfast together as spouses, Mrs. Santiago-Peralta?”

“More than ready.”

Since Amy Santiago learned to read at a mere three and a half years of age, she’d gone through an extensive list of favorite words. Epiphany had been one of them, one of the first big words her father had taught her to pronounce. Serendipity, expectations, quintessential, oblivion - lengthy, sophisticated words to embellish written as well as spoken sentences.

Eating a fresh cream cheese bagel from the bakery down the street and drinking a scalding hot cappuccino from the same place with Jake trying his best to help her solve the Times crossword puzzle she hadn’t had the time for yesterday, she decided it was time to add a new one to the list.

Husband - defined by Oxford Dictionaries as a married man considered in relation to his spouse and defined by her as the word she could now use freely to describe the love of her life.

The prospect of forever had horrified her up until she started realizing she might actually want it with the man sitting across from her, chewing absentmindedly on the lid of a pen and making little progress with the puzzle he had offered his assistance with. Now, she felt like forever wouldn’t be nearly enough.

[karterh-blog]

Levi 1

Levi 

This is stupid.

What am I doing?

Nothing odd.

Just a tall teen, buying packaged cookies.

And that’s it. 

Watching that movie was a bad idea. Why did I let Nic talk me into watching it? They were so persistent. The movie was good. It made me feel less alien. The worst part was the partial I got from the watching the kiss at the end. I had to hide it behind my letterman’s jacket when we left the theater.

Maybe it’s a good thing. No other on-screen romance has gotten that much of a rise out of me. Fuck. Even my thoughts are getting corny.

“Young man register 15 is available,” the yellow-vested Walmart employee startled me out of my inner turmoil. I looked up at her, she looked tired, unkempt, as my mother would say. She gave me an impatient nod to herd me along to the self-checkout kiosk.

I quickly scanned my purchase and selected the pay option. Fumbling with my wallet I tried to rush the machine into taking my five-dollar bill. The stubborn thing spat it back at me. Infuriatingly, I snatched it back, worked out a barely bent corner and forced the note back into the payment slot. This argument went on for a few more rounds. I felt the stares of the moms waiting in the line. Believe me ladies, I want to get out of here as much as you do. After a fifth attempt it finally accepts my payment and spits my change and receipt at me. I shove it into my jeans pocket, grab my purchase and head for the doors.

“I need to see your receipt, young man,” drawls the exasperated looking man at the greeter post.

I attempt to extract it from my pocket without showering my feet with pennies and dimes. I failed.

“It’s a new policy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and as I hand him the small slip, I see that my hands are shaking.

My hands don’t shake. I scored the winning net in or hockey game against Gillette Saturday night. They’re our biggest competition this season, not to mention our biggest rival. “What is wrong with me.”

“Thank you, have a nice night,” he utters in monotone. he so doesn’t care.

I’m in the clear. Not even close, Pearson.

I make it to the second set of doors and forget how hard it’s snowing. I hate driving around town in snow. I’m not a terrible driver for a 17-year-old. I get carried away after a big win on the ice or a movie with good chase scenes, but generally I keep it in my pants. But other people act like they haven’t lived here for decades and either slide through the intersections or drive half the speed limit. 

Crap, am I really doing this?

At the beginning of Christmas break Nic begged me to go see a movie about some gay kid. It didn’t play here in Sheridan. There is no way it would play here. It might turn us impressionable youths into the gays!! Too late. Anyway, Nic convinced my mom that she would likely get a better present if I were allowed to drive up to Billings, Montana to do my holiday shopping. Nic is basically an only child. They know how to manipulate parents. They are my best friend, but I wouldn’t say that to the guys on the team. The guys already give me a hard time for hanging out with them and some of their “freaky” friends. I just feel so comfortable around them.

Unlike now. My socks are wet from slopping to my car. Chucks are not good winter shoes. I jam the key into the door handle to unlock the car. No fancy fob for this ride. Hell, it doesn’t even have cruise control. Gotta love hand-me-downs. Now that Jess is working a job and going to school (Sheridan College, fancy) he was able to buy a better vehicle. So, I get the old Honda my parents bought used ten years ago. The hinges creak as I open the door and slouch into the driver’s seat.

After shoving my backpack into the floor, I set the package of Oreos on the passenger seat. They’re the holiday ones with the red filling. Not really like the movie said, but close.

The car squeals to life with a good forceful turn of the ignition. I should get my friend Joey to change that belt. It’s getting really bad. I carefully make my way out of the packed parking lot as my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. I know it’s Nic, so I don’t even look.

“Hi.”

“Hey babe?” They sound unsure. Great.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t you’ll make me more nervous?”

“Lee, it’s going to be great! I’m so excited for you. I wish I could watch from your backseat.” Nic ignored my question. Typical. 

“God you’re creepy.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

“Uhhh....” I let silence hang in the chilly air. 

“Levi Pearson, you go give that boy his cookies and make his year!”

“How are you cockier than me? Do you think he’ll even get the reference? This is pretty out there.”

“I know he saw the movie, Sarah Riley showed me his secret Instagram post about seeing it and then journaling at City Brew for hours afterward!”

“How do you know it was actually his post?”

“Babe, the freaks know all the best gossip.”

“Seriously? The babe thing?”

“What about it?”

“Even your friends think we’re together!”

“That’s impossible Lee. They all know I’m a demi/panromantic asexual genderqueer!”

“Nic. No one in this county knows what that means, except for you.”

“You’re totally not my type.”

“You mean you’re not my type?”

“Right. Not everyone can be born with genitalia that you are disturbingly focused on. But you are so stoic that no one knows what your type is, other than maybe cheerleader or volleyball player. I’m the only one who sees you. Well until tonight. Then Patrick will see you. Hopefully more of you than I’ve seen.”

“Hey.” I listen to Nic’s peeling cackle for two traffic lights.

“Holy shit. Aren’t you almost there?”

“Just turning off 5th street.”

“Ok. Ok. Ok. I love you! You’ve got this!” With that she hangs up.

I shift into park and look up at the brick house. The lights in the living room shine through the curtains. A big pine tree blocks the only other window facing the street. That’s probably his parents’ room though. That’s how I remember the house when Brad Warren lived there. We used to hang out in grade school, and we’ve been on the same hockey team for two years. I’d ride my bike over here when mom and dad were both at work in the summer.

God. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m mostly just trying to not picture and also hope for the opportunity to see Patrick’s smile. I think a lot about that smile. I didn’t really notice it until he got his braces off last year. It seemed like he smiled for weeks. He was unfortunately outed by some football players in a pretty brutal manner. He hasn't smiled much since then. Nic says he’s been out to his friends for years, which makes us the only two queer guys in the 11th grade, as far as I can tell.

A shadow passes by the window and I jump. Crap. I probably look like a stalker sitting out here.

I grab my backpack off the floor and chuck a couple of textbooks out, so I can fit in the treat I have for Patrick.

The characters in the movie bond over Oreos. And I figured if I showed up and offered them to him, it could be easier than walking up to him at school and saying something dreadfully embarrassing for both of us.

Pearson. You got this.

I wrench my door open and trudge to the Williams’ front door. I can tell by the blue light that the tv is on and I can faintly hear the sounds of Wheel of Fortune. That show is banned in our house. We watch Jeopardy! and no other game shows.

The chime of the doorbell makes me jump. Breathe. In. Out. Hurried little footsteps come toward me. This must be his little brother. I’ve seen him at school functions with his parents. The knob jiggles as he attempts to open the heavy door.

“No! I got it!” The small voice protests. And lights blind me for a second as he stares up at me. I’m already six-one. He must think I’m a giant, as he stands there with his mouth open and his eye wide before squinting at me. “Who are you? Are you Thor?”

“Uhhh, Levi Pearson?” Wow Pearson intimidated by a juvenile.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” His voice is clear and sharp and makes shiver run down my spine. And then he fills the crack in the doorway standing behind the shorter version of the same person. His bristly dark blonde curls are cropped short. And his light blue eyes look into my soul.

“Levi?”

“Uhh, hey.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“Can we talk?”

“This couldn’t wait until school in the morning?”

“Please?”

“We won’t get very far if you keep answering questions with questions.”

“Boys, shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out.” Their dad has an intimidating presence. He’s big and muscular, and always has a shadow of coal and grease on his skin. 

Patrick eyes me wearily.

“Well come in.”

“Thanks.”

The front door leads straight into the living room. They must have painted when they bought the house. It looks totally different. Wow. How does anyone really think I am hetero? I choose to blame my mother and her HGTV habit.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh sorry. Ummm. Did you get Speiker’s assignment from yesterday? I didn’t have a chance to see him before we left for the game.” He glares at me. This was a stretch. We have one class together. Algebra II. I’m decent at it. I mean I’m holding steady to my A-, but I can play dumb.

He looks unconvinced.

“You have friends in that class, why ask me?”

I’ve got to bullshit fast. Mini-Patrick has grown bored of me and now that the door is shut their dad is back in a recliner studying the next word puzzle.

“Well, I was on my way home, and your place is on the way–”

“Are you stalking me?”

“What!?” I try to wipe my now sweaty shaking hands on front of my hoodie. It’s wetter than my hands. This is going great!

“How do you know where I live?” He looks nervous and skeptical.

“Oh. Uhh. Brad used to live here before you.”

“Ooookaaay.”

“Anyway. Your place was on my way home and I need to keep my B in Algebra to stay on the active hockey roster.

“Boys, quit flapping your gums or get out of the living room, you’re interrupting the puzzle,” his dad said while waving us to the kitchen or some other part of the house.

“Fine. Come with me.”

Patrick lead me into the house, cautiously monitoring my every move.

“Patrick. Tell your friend shoes stay at the door.” I was so busy watching Patrick watch me that I didn’t even notice his mom perched at the kitchen counter. She scrutinized me over the top of red-framed reading glasses like a mean librarian, if librarians wore paint splotched bibs. She likes to call herself an artist, but Mom says she’s just crafty with too much free time. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve seen her name on fundraiser auction items.

Patrick clears his throat to get my attention.

“Oh god,” I jump, “sorry.” I dig my toe into the heal of my right shoe popping it off and then do the same with the left. I pick up my sneakers and trudge them back to the front door and take a big deep breath before rejoining Patrick in the kitchen. He leads me down a set of stairs into another living area. It’s basically just an older version of the one upstairs. The couch is more worn, and the recliner looks nonfunctional, but cozy.

“Wait here” he leaves me in the comfy room and my eyes wonder to a wall covered in family photos. I resist the urge to memorize every one of them. Geez. I am a stalker. To calm my fidgeting, I perch on the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I slide my backpack off my shoulders and hold it by the loop at the top.

“Do you have your book with you?” I look down and he’s standing in front of me, still glaring.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really need the homework. I got it from Nic. I just–”

“Dude. What’s going on here? Why the fuck are you at my house then?” His voice is icy and cuts through my small shred of confidence.

“Pat. Calm down.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Sorry. Patrick.”

“Is this some sort of hazing, jock bet? Infiltrate to home of the homo?”

My stomach had been trying to climb out of my chest and these words drop it to the floor. I slump forward and look at my wet pack and socks. The zipper is partially open, and I can see the bright blue package. I don’t know what to say to him. Of course, that is what this looks like.

“I just wanted to give you something.” I reach into my bag and wrestle to cookie package free. I drop it onto the seat of the battered chair and head quickly back up the stairs. I jam my soggy feet into my shoes, shoulder my bad and leave the warm house without looking at any of the Williams family.

Back in the Civic, I see that I have missed 10 calls and 20 texts. I have one voicemail from home. I opt for that first knowing that all the other communications are from Nic. Mom says dinner is ready and mine will be cold by 7. I check the phone’s screen. It’s just after 7. I’ll make something up. It’ll be fine.

Nic texts again as I close the voicemail window.

Nic: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Nic: <3 <3 <3 <3

Instead of trying to type out my humiliation, I opt for a call instead. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I make a U-turn and drive the five blocks home. It doesn’t take that long for me to spew my rejection and humiliation. I park behind Dad’s old beat up truck and rest my head on my steering wheel as Nic attempts to construct further plans. They seem way more invested in my love life than I am right now. I’m half listening to Nic and half listening to my stomach growling. Tall athletes should not miss meals. But despite its protests I don’t think I can keep anything down.

“Lee!”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me or wallowing?”

“Definitely wallowing,” I huff. My breath is starting to fog up my windows.

“Babe, remember when you tripped on your own stick while skating toward the undefended goal in the game against Casper?”

“Wow. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, thanks Nic.”

“Did you give up hockey after that game?”

“No, but that’s different.”

“You’re right it’s a different kind of match between boys playing with stick.”

“Cute.”

“The cutest enby you know.”

“You’re the only enbee I know.”

“Babe, I can hear you shivering. Go inside. Can me later.”

“Sure.”

I lift my head and realize I have sat here long enough for the snow to coat it windshield. And I think my socks are starting to freeze to my shoes.