#comments on ao3 are shut off for the foreseeable future

[henrysglock]

finally got the time to read chapter 3 of ptolemaea…. MISTER NIFTY AND MISTER NEAT JSKSBSJSNS CRYINGGGG SOBBING

Bob and henry have my whole heart I love them so muchhhh and young Scott is exactly how I’ve envisioned him, I also love how u write henry in regards to his trauma n how it can warp your perspective of situations, I relate so hard to how he downplays or twists things in his head because of what he’s been thru like being excited by hearing that Scott liked him to deciding it must just be fascination or something and settling on that. And I like how u don’t hold back w him still being triggered by the actions/words of ppl who have good intentions, that’s v real. And his pang of fear at the mere mention of doctors, also v real.

I felt it IN MY SOUL henry would take to sleeping in an oversized t shirt that’s why I always draw him it one !!!! I started kicking my feet when I read that

THE WAY I GASPED WHEN THEY WENT TO THE LIBRARY AND READ THE EDWARD TIMELINE PAPER DJSKSNS not bob calling it all a big coincidence lol

I also just love the small touches of references from the show like Henry’s insistence on “it’s not safe” and a bunch of others I noticed while reading like that

The pacing of it all is rlly satisfying too Im so intrigued

<3<3<3 shsksnsj

THEY'RE A PAIR!!! DO NOT SEPARATE!!!

The Bob-Henry dynamic has been so fun because like. Bob's in kind of this Steve-like role? Where he's a teenager himself but he's just got this kinda batshit kid attached at his hip and he has NO idea what the hell is going on. but he's here for it 🫡 Which is kind of akin to his role in ST2. Mans has NO idea what he's getting into, but dammit he's going to be helpful!!

Young Scott is my sweetie pie pookie little guy. He's got so much enthusiasm. He's dramatic and a little over the top sometimes which...looking at the dramatics he uses in canon as an adult? Yeah. 15 year old Scott feels like an absolute goober of a kid. He puts so much energy behind his interaction with Henry, it's just natural for him to. He's kind of puppy-like in that way; he charges forward with so much enthusiasm, only to realize a bit later that he may have come on a little strong and that he needs to be a little gentler. He's learning how to interact with Henry in a way that isn't overwhelming, but he's doing it without framing that change as burdensome (like we see with Max in canon, when she corrects him on her name and he just goes with it like it's no big deal). I adore him. He's such a good kid.

Young Henry has been a joy to write honestly. There's a delicate balance between capturing the fact that he's just some snarky teenager and having that trauma come in with a steel chair every once in a while. Because like a lot of the time that's how it is with trauma. Henry's got baggage, sure, but it's not everything all the time. He can still be and think about so many other things outside of his experiences in the lab. It just means his perception of himself is a little warped and certain settings/phrases make the hurt kick up a little dust.

Like that's how trauma goes! It's the lights going on in the foyer, something Bob doesn't think twice about re: the Creels, and Henry being hit hard with the last time he was there. It's Henry having a nightmare about something that was done to him, or a mistake he made that had disastrous consequences, and that turning around to color his self worth, making him go from expressive and present to completely shut down in a matter of seconds. Like you said, it's Bob with the best intentions (Bob, who's 100% correct), trying to get him to see a doctor for his concussion and him getting snappy about it out of fear.

And that's something that follows Henry, too, into adulthood. His mother still haunts him. Brenner still haunts him. The self-esteem issues still haunt him. It all just happens less frequently/with less intensity. It never goes away, he just...gets used to it. He gets better at pushing it away.

But anyway moving on!! Yes!!! He's such an oversized t-shirt guy. Personally I was thinking about that John Mulaney bit about the ghost of the little girl vs him in the too-big sleep shirt, because that's SO Henry. (Was there ever a ghost? Or was it just me all along?)

And okay like. As one of the main timeline theorists on this hellsite, I had to include my baby Edward in here somewhere. Yes, he is going to be plot important. It may or may not end up being canon compliant. We'll see how it fleshes out!! But yeah Bob doesn't know what he's getting into lmao he's seeing the Surface. Hell, even Henry doesn't know what's going on with that, but he knows that every "coincidence" has something more to it, even if he doesn't know what that something entails.

Okay okay and finally. I'm a slut for direct references to canon. Henward/El/Will are all canonically very similar to each other, it's just that they're shaped by differing circumstances. That is to say, 15 year old post-lab Henry would react to things in a mixture of El and Will: shoving hurt down/turning it inwards while also taking matters into his own hands and refusing to let others help. So...I would die before missing chances to make references!! (there's also a Robin-Steve reference, in chapter 2, I think, about being friends with 15 year olds pfft)

Gougjhfghjf I'm so glad the pacing is coming across alright!! I have No idea how long this fic is going to be so I'm just. writing how it comes and seeing how far it goes!!

<3 <3 <3

[floralcyanide]

⊹ when in copenhagen

request: a basic one to start! shower sex with carmy? in which you and Carmy argue your way into showering together.

↝ pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: spoilers for The Bear (kinda?), smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, brief nipple play, fingering, arguing (a lot), shower sex

↝ word count: 2k

↝ author's note: finally watched The Bear!! so guess what that means lol (I hope you all enjoy this!! I didn't edit lowkey but oh well)

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

There’s not a lot of room on this boat.

It’s your first thought as you take time to tour where you’ll be residing for a while. You’re in Copenhagen, Denmark, for some cooking lessons, but not alone. You’re with your fellow chef and another student of Andrea Terry’s, Carmen Berzatto. You aren’t quite sure why Chef Terry sent both of you here simultaneously, but you have a few ideas. One of them is that the two of you solve the weird tension you have going on while you’re here. The other is to obviously kill two birds with one stone and send more than one chef to learn new ways to create. But the first idea seemed the most likely. The houseboat where you and Carmen, or Carmy, as he preferred to be called, are going to stay for the foreseeable future is fairly dinky and barely has room for two beds. One of them is technically the couch that pulls out into a full-size bed. You and Carmy will probably argue over who gets which bed. The two of you argue a lot over just about everything. Chef Terry is probably ecstatic that she gets a break from it for a while. 

It isn’t long before a disagreement on who gets to shower first begins. There’s also a side banter on who is making dinner or whether or not you’re ordering in and who is doing the ordering. It’s sort of your dynamic to never agree on anything, ever. You wish you had taken this trip separately, but of course, Chef Terry had to deal you a bad hand. Enriching your palettes is one thing, but your stress levels are another. You can’t see the tension between the two of you resolving any time soon, so you fear this supposed adventure isn’t going to be as enjoyable as you thought. 

In a moment of pressed anger, a sarcastic comment leaves your lips, “We could always just shower together and shut the fuck up about it.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Carmy rubs his chin before turning around and grabbing two towels from the linen closet.

“What?” you laugh incredulously, “You can’t be serious right now.”

“Look,” Carmy rolls his eyes, “It’s better than standing here arguing all fucking night, is it not?”

You cross your arms and stifle a pout, much like a child, but meet Carmy’s eyes reluctantly, “Fine. Just don’t look at me while I shower.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult since we’re going to be right next to each other, but I won’t have to try very hard anyway,” Carmy rolls his eyes.

You’re slightly offended by his comment but recover enough to follow him to the bathroom without responding. Carmy pulls off his shirt before turning on the shower and tossing it onto the floor. You do the same as the two of you quickly undress, avoiding each other’s gaze. You frown at the somewhat weak stream of water coming from the shower and dare to glance at Carmy’s bare back. You aren’t blind by any means; Carmy is attractive as hell. He’s built quite nicely in a physical manner and has flattering features. Plus, you can’t help but be attracted to how quickly he can match your attitude. So, keeping your eyes averted from Carmy’s naked, sculpted body is a little difficult on your end. But it doesn’t seem hard at all for your fellow traveler to avoid staring, as you had asked him to. It’s a little disappointing, but at least you finally get to wash off the stale sweat you’ve been sporting for hours. The shower stall is small but spacious enough to some degree for two people to fit.

Once both of you find yourselves under the water, Carmy wastes no time scrubbing himself with the soap he brought with him. You do the same, keeping your eyes to yourself and trying not to accidentally nudge him with your elbow. The two of you struggle to rinse off without nearly slipping or bumping into each other. 

“How about one of us washes first and rinses, and the other one goes next?” Carmy turns to you, sighing in frustration.

“Who goes first, then?” you raise an eyebrow, expecting to argue some more.

“You can, by all means,” Carmy offers, and your jaw almost drops.

You furrow your brow at him, “And what do I owe you for this lack of fussing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs innocently.

The reality is that Carmy just wants to watch you. Not in a creepy way, or maybe it is sort of creepy, but he thinks you’re attractive, too. The no-watching rule doesn’t count if you aren't caught, right? Carmy just needs to be slick about it. You hesitantly take up the offer to fully wash first, squirting some shampoo into your palm before lathering it into your hair. 

“If you need me to get your back, just let me know, sweetheart,” Carmy offers jokingly.

You snort, “I will. Thanks.”

You manage to wash and condition your hair in peace, unknowingly having the burning blue eyes of Carmy on you. When it’s time to wash everywhere else, you take Carmy up on his offer just to see his reaction. You turn around to face him, his gaze quickly averting away.

“Actually, if you could get my back, I’d greatly appreciate it, Carm,” you smile cheekily, offering him your loofah.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he scoffs, taking the loofah from you.

“Stranger things have happened,” you shrug.

“Hmm. Really?” Carmy starts to gently scrub your back, “Like what?”

“Us showering together is literally one of those things,” you say plainly.

“No need for sass,” Carmy leans into your ear, “We were doing just fine there for a minute.”

You fight back a shiver at Carmy’s closeness, “You’re right. I’ll be quiet now. Keep scrubbing.”

Carmy switches the loofah for his hand, spreading the suds around with his palm, massaging your tense shoulders. You let out a small sigh at the feeling of yourself relaxing for the first time today. Carmy snakes his arm around you, handing you the loofah back.

“Who said for you to stop?” you turn your head around at him, and you’re met with his eyes being darker than usual.

“I could keep going, but uh,” Carmy clears his throat, “I can’t promise I’ll stop.”

“Why’s that?” you ask curiously, borderline teasing.

“Don’t trek into dangerous territory,” Carmy warns.

You turn to fully face him, “I know your comment earlier wasn’t true. About you not having to try hard not to stare.”

“How so?”

“You stare at me all the time. Don’t think I don’t notice it, Berzatto,” you smirk.

Carmy runs a hand through his wet hair, wondering if he should be so bold to respond with what he wants to. Instead, he takes you by surprise and grabs a hold of your hips, his thumbs bruisingly pressing into the fat of them. 

“I told you not to trek,” Carmy mutters, his eyes serious but darkening more by the second.

“What if I want to?” you say, testing just how far Carmy would go.

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, bringing you close to his face so he can crash his lips onto yours. You find yourself kissing back, your fingers tangling into Carmy’s hair at the nape of his neck. He pushes you against the shower wall, his one hand still holding you by your hip. Carmy slips his tongue inside your mouth, taking more control of the embrace. He takes a moment to run both hands along your sides, pulling your body closer to his. You feel him hard against your stomach.

“Need some help, Berzatto?” you pull away from the kiss, glancing down at Carmy’s length at attention against his toned abdomen, “I’m already trekking far enough, so why not?”

“Only if you let me make dinner after this,” Carmy says.

“Deal,” you shrug.

You reach between your bodies and begin stroking Carmy slowly, to which he lets out a breathy moan. He has thought about this moment far too many times- you grasping him and getting him off. Carmy thrives off your anger toward him, and you thrive off of his, too. It only seems plausible it’d end up like this.

Carmy daringly grasps one of your breasts as you pump your hand along his shaft at a quicker pace, squeezing you and teasing your nipple with his thumb. You hum at the feeling, spreading around the precum on his tip. Carmy’s hand moves from your chest down your stomach and to your heat, where he cups it, hesitant to go any further without permission.

“Don’t get scared on me now,” you look him in the eyes, “I expect something out of this, too. So go ahead.”

Carmy wastes no time dipping a finger into you, wanting to make a dig at you for being so wet already just from touching him, but he refrains. Instead, he adds another finger, using the heel of his hand to press against your clit. He thrusts his fingers inside you, finding a spot that causes you to grip him harshly in response.

“Keep doing that, and we’ll have to fuck,” you whine.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Carmy says, his free hand now carding through your hair, his fingernails grazing your scalp.

You pull Carmy’s fingers from you, replacing them with the head of his cock, “Take this as a promise and not a threat, then.”

Carmy drags himself along your slit before guiding himself inside your entrance, wincing at how tight you are as inch by inch is taken by your needy cunt. Once he’s fully inside you, Carmy boxes you in with his arms, pressing them to the shower wall on either side of your head. You wrap a leg around his waist and brace your hands on his chest as he starts thrusting. Carmy’s eyes bore into yours, drinking in your sounds and facial expressions with every jerk of his hips. You move an inch forward to capture his lips into a heated kiss, moving your body along with every movement of his. You moan pitifully into Carmy’s mouth as he hits a spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your eyelids. 

“Do that again,” you say weakly, and Carmy repeats the action except a little harder this time.

“Taking my cock so well that you can’t argue about it, can you?” Carmy says in your ear, “Now I know how to shut you up.”

“I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like this,” you throw your head back against the wall, your back pressed flush to it as Carmy fucks into you as fast as his hips allow.

“I’ll take you up on that, sweetheart,” Carmy smirks, nibbling your ear playfully.

You feel the familiar tightness in your belly growing, “I’m close.”

Carmy sneaks a hand between you and strokes your clit with his fingers, urging you to cum. You teeter closer to the edge as he presses his fingertips harder on the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles. With one particularly angled thrust, you orgasm hard around Carmy, your walls clenching his length pitifully. The feeling of you coming undone then triggers his release, and he fills you up to the brim with a low, guttural moan. The water has since turned cold, and once you unwrap yourself from Carmy, you immediately turn the shower off. 

“How about that dinner, Carm?”

Carmy is busy catching his breath but replies, “Sure thing. Just don’t argue about what I’m making, and we’ll be fine.”

You grab your towel, “You make it sound like I argue about everything, which isn't true. Sometimes, it’s you who wants to whine and complain.”

Carmy purses his lips at you, smacking your ass with his towel, “Just be grateful I fucked you and am also making you dinner.”

Once bedtime arrives, the two of you decide not to fight over who gets which bed and opt to share the main one. It’s better than making a fuss. Plus, falling asleep with Carmy’s arms around you was worth all the pent-up tension you had dealt with for so long.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

When Vegas wakes up from his coma and finally has to face the repercussions of his actions, he finds that he doesn't really know who he is anymore. It's like there are two of him now. The Vegas from before and the Vegas after. 

The Vegas he was before the failed coup could somewhat handle his shit. Sure he'd been pretty fucking violent at times and let his anger get the best of him, but he could usually contain it. He could take the belittling comments and physical abuse from his father. He could take the scorn from the Main family’s business partners, the polite disappointed stares from his uncle, and even the angry virtrol thrown at him from Tankhun or Kinn.

He could handle all of that. Hiding his feelings was as easy as breathing most of the time. He could throw up a wall with zero effort. Nod his head.  Let the slap land.  Agree to whatever nasty things were said. Spit off a well timed quip. Swallow down the angry storm in his gut. Hide the vicious tears that wanted so badly to spill. He could shove it all down. Bottle it all up. Wait until he was alone, or at the very least until he was at the Minor compound where violence was a near daily occurrence. He could just hide it inside until it was safe.

He could just …wait. 

Wait until he was in his room where he could break down in peace. 

Wait until there was a prisoner to unleash all his unbridled fury upon.  

Wait until no one's eyes were on him except his most trusted guards, and even then, he would wait until they were gone.

Because they were only privy to his violence, never his vulnerability. 

The him before? 

He could handle his shit. 

The Vegas after the failed coup….the Vegas who was shot and almost killed for a cause he didn't even really believe in anymore?

He can't handle his shit at all. 

He can't handle what he's done. 

To Macau. To Porsche. To Pete. 

The overwhelming guilt almost smothers him the moment he can fully comprehend what has happened. 

So, it starts in the hospital when Pete doesn't leave. 

When the former bodyguard takes his hand and tells him that he quit and declares that he's Vegas’ problem now. 

He says he loves him…

As if Vegas deserves love. 

Especially from Pete. After what he'd fucking done to him…after leaving scars on his body and fucking up his head…Pete should hate Vegas. 

But for some reason, he doesn't, and the Vegas after is just as selfish as the Vegas before . So he eventually accepts that Pete isn't leaving. He accepts that his lover obviously has no self-preservation and wants to be tied to a broken shell of a man for the foreseeable future.

Whatever. 

He's not going to refuse him. 

He wants, no, he needs him too much. 

Besides, the Vegas he is now…in the after , is weak.

His healing is slow. 

His anger is quick. 

Despite Macau and Pete trying their hardest to help, there are just so many things they can't do. Because they don't understand.  

They don't understand what it means to be here now. 

In the hospital, he is so vulnerable . The whole time he is stuck in the bed with wires attached to him, he is riddled with anxiety and plagued by nightmares. He's worried that Uncle will send someone to kill him, or worse, kill Macau.

Or Pete . For daring to leave the Main family. 

Uncle Korn had said he'd take care of them, but he knows better than to believe a word that comes out of that man's mouth. If he really cared about Vegas he would have shut his Pa down when he'd suggested-when he'd thrown Vegas to the fucking wolves.

He wouldn't have let Vegas suffer like that. 

He wouldn't have let Vegas get fucking shot. 

So yeah, he doesn't trust his uncle with their safety. 

And he's too fucking weak, in too much pain, to protect them. 

He hates it. 

Hates himself. 

Hates having to depend on other people to do things...like help him take a fucking piss. 

It makes him want to scream.

Why couldn't he have just gone against his Pa just that once? 

Why couldn't he have been strong?

Why did he have to fuck everything up so much?

Why could he have stood up for what he actually thought? 

Like Pete?

When he chose Vegas...

Fuck…

Pete should have run when he had the chance. 

Vegas is not good to him like this. 

He's so fucking pathetic. 

Macau and Pete deserve better.

Vegas thinks maybe he shouldn't have woken up after all. 

He thinks maybe he should have fucking died. 

Then he sees Pete smile and ruffle Macau's hair and thinks maybe he’s wrong. 

If he had died he would have missed this. Pete and Macau acting like family. 

He would have missed the way Macau lights up when Pete asks about his interests. He would have missed Macau tease Pete about his clothes. He would have missed Pete's soft touches and quick kisses when no one’s looking. 

He would have missed the simplicity of his hospital stay. When it was just the three of them. Even with the anxiety and the tension of waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Yeah. 

He would have missed these precious moments with the two most important people in his life. 

And he'd made a promise to Pete. 

So he had to get better. 

His boyfriend needs someone to take care of him. To feed him. 

Vegas after the coup may be weaker, but he refuses to let Pete down a second time. 

Things are different, even months later.

He knew they would be. Too much had happened for them to remain the same. 

He and Pete talked about things just like they did in the safehouse. Not about his Pa, not after he'd admitted he was glad he died, but they talk about Porsche. About the Auction. 

It brought things to the surface that Vegas wasn't expecting. Things that left him feeling slimy…

But he always pushed those feelings away before so he tried to do that again. He needed to focus on getting better. 

He needed to get strstronger.

So he pushed himself. 

He fought with the Doctors but still did all the PT like he was supposed to. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to go home. 

Home. 

That's different now too. 

When he'd finally left the hospital, everyone assumed Vegas would be shitty about all the changes being made in his absence. 

With Porsche taking on the role that was meant for him, things were obviously being handled differently.  Porsche had given him the option of staying at the Minor Family compound with him, or moving into an apartment just around the corner. 

He had talked to Pete and Macau about it. After discussing all the pros and cons they'd decided that the apartment would be better for Vegas in the long run. It would be better for his healing. 

He could focus on his PT and not have to see Porsche and Kinn flipping everything he'd ever known inside out in front of him. 

But truthfully? He actually likes living in the apartment better than he thought he would. 

Perhaps it's because the ghosts of his past failures aren't lingering here. The ghost of his father isn't here either. There are no reminders of Pa’s heavy presence. Like the smell of his favorite cigars, or the sickening sweet perfume he was obsessed with. There are no slammed doors or shattering ceramic. No looming threat around every corner. 

No....desks that threaten pain or punishment. 

Here, in the two bedroom apartment that he shares with Pete and Macau, where the furniture is new and it smells like fresh paint, Pa’s shadow can't reach him here. 

At least not in the light of day.

At night, it's a different story. 

***

Vegas has trouble sleeping now. 

At first it was because of pain or discomfort from the wounds healing, and now the new scars pulling. 

Then it was the nightmares.

He knows some of them are because of the Coup. He dreams of running, of shooting, of fighting Kinn. He dreams that he shoots him. That he dies on the garage floor…That he loses everything anyways. 

He dreams of Porsche screaming and hitting him. Asking him if this is what he wanted. If he's happy now. 

Dream Vegas just lets him hit him and tells him no. He's not happy. He's sorry. 

He's so fucking sorry. 

He dreams of Pete. 

Of Pete dying. Bleeding out. His blood soaking Vegas's clothes, staining his hands. 

Pete gasping his name. Choking. Tears spilling. 

His blood spilling…spilling…

Red staining everything . 

He dreams he's falling. 

He dreams of hands on his body. Touching. Hurting. Holding him down. Fingers squeezing, squeezing, suffocating him. Someone on him, inside of him. 

He can't fucking breathe . 

He hates those dreams the most. 

The last time he'd struggled this bad was when he was fourteen and his Pa had-

No. 

He cant...

Shutting down that trail of thoughts. 

All it would take is a few minutes thinking about that day, about the desk...the body…about being shoved down…down… and he'd be violently spiraling. And he can't do that right now. 

He looks over at his boyfriend sleeping next to him. He really cant let himself think about it now. Not when he has an audience. 

Pete has already noticed. He's already seen him when he's lost in his thoughts. He's already asking him about…about the nightmares. 

And Vegas just….he can't talk to him about them. Because if he tells him about the nightmares, he might figure out what they're about. And then he'd ask more questions and Vegas….

Vegas doesn't want him to know . 

No one needs to know the most shameful parts of himself. No one needs to know the secret….the secrets he keeps hidden. He wishes he didn't have to look in the mirror and see them staring back at him. 

Why would he subject his boyfriend to them?

Besides, it wouldn't change anything. 

It's already happened.  

He's over it. 

Or the person he was before was over it. 

The person he is now…

He knows he should be over it too.

He's not a scared teenager anymore. 

He can handle it. 

And his Pa is dead. 

He's dead…

Fuck.

He's really dead…

He cant…he can't touch him anymore 

He can't hurt him anymore. 

Can't threaten to hurt his brother. 

He's fucking gone . 

Vegas is finally free .

So why does he still feel so fucking awful?

Read the rest on AO3

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 7/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: bucky steps forward

word count: 876

tags: brotp: sam x bucky (brotp used loosely), post endgame, pre tfatws, hurt/comfort, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: panic attack mention

a/n: have fun with this lil bucky x rue moment! also, if you're feeling generous, head over to ao3 to drop a kudos or a comment...!

AO3 MASTERLIST X

October 14

Rue is hunched over a box behind the receptionist's desk, bending her knees, getting ready to lift. Without thinking, Bucky strides behind the desk and lifts it, effortlessly, for her.

“James–”

“Bucky.”

“No, James,” she hisses. He sees her trying to remain mad, despite fighting off a smile. Suddenly, her hands are over his eyes. Her fingertips are cold. “There’s confidential information there!”

He actually chuckles. “I’ll keep my eyes shut.”

“How do I know that?” she says exasperated.

“You can trust me.”

“I can trust you?” she echoes. “I trust no one!”

(He wants to tell her that’s a good instinct she has going for her there, but he holds back. What he should be telling her is he’s done a lot of missions with impaired visuals, so moving a box to the desk with closed eyes was nothing.)

“You can trust me,” he insists, making a show of screwing his eyes shut. “Guide me.”

He feels her hesitation, then her hands over his. He feels her gently steer him, her little shuffles as a careful attempt to walk backward in her platform shoes. Again, he could laugh.

When he feels the edge of the table, he sets the box down and, with hands up in surrender, he backs away, eyes still closed. She guides him back around the desk.

(This time, her hands are more confidently on his waist.)

“This,” she gestures to the area around her, “is off limits. Don’t come behind the desk.” She peers over at the closed office doors.

“You could say thank you.” The cheeky retort is out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What I could do is lose my job due to HIPAA violations!” He doesn’t know what that means, but he sees her battle panic and amusement. “So, thank you, Mr. Super Soldier Man, but I’d be more thankful if you didn’t get my ass fired.”

(She’s funny.)

“They won’t fire you,” he says. She raised a brow. “You’re the best receptionist here.”

“Are you flirting me, James?” she says distractedly, pulling a file from the box and perusing it.

“Oh, am I ‘James’ now?”

“For the foreseeable future.” She looks at him through her lashes, a playful scorn.

(He sees her flush, but she’s being bold. They both are.)

“Raynor mentioned it,” he admits, pushing his hair out of his face. “That time, last week, when she asked you to do a list of things in the middle of my session, and you’d said you already did them.”

(But, he thinks, to answer your question - yes, I am flirting with you.)

////

One of Sam’s texts is a location. He sends Bucky activities to do, things to check out, despite living in Washington D.C.

There’s an old school boxing gym in Bushwick that’ll keep your membership on the DL.

(Bucky has to Google what ‘on the DL’ means.)

Tell them I sent you, they’ll take care of you.

Bucky finds himself in the neighborhood one Tuesday, twenty minutes after the gym has closed, but he sees the lights still on. He knocks, cupping his hands to the glass to see inside. An older man, probably in his sixties, comes to the door with a broom.

“We’re closed,” he starts, but Bucky holds his empty hands up.

“Sam Wilson told me to come,” Bucky rushes. “He told me you’d be willing to let me work out here. I’m James – uh, Bucky Barnes.”

“He said you might stop by.” The man gives him a sly smile, like he knows something about Bucky, but Bucky assumes Sam talked about him.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him he was right,” Bucky jokes.

The man grins, taking Bucky’s outstretched prosthetic hand. “I’m George. Welcome to Fogwell’s Gym.”

George lends him a pair of boxing gloves and some tape. He tells Bucky, tonight, he’ll stay for an hour, but eventually, he doesn’t mind cutting him a key. He mentions that ‘his friend’ used to work out here from time to time, too. 

(He also gives Bucky his condolences.)

When Bucky tells him he can’t really pay for a membership right now, George claps a hand on his shoulder, gripping at the metal.

“Son, I’d be damned if I let a hero pay me a dime.”

(Bucky remembers these words for years to come.)

Bucky tries the boxing gloves, his muscle memory stronger than his actual memory. Images of him sparring with his dad and teaching his sister a few moves flicker in and out as he uses his teeth to tighten the laces. The glove feels uncomfortable over his prosthetic, but he gives the sandbag a few good natured jabs.

Eventually, he just wraps his right hand in tape and lays into the bag. He hears the support beams strain from his blows, but he’s possessed by something deep. Punch after punch, he feels the tightness in his chest build until he realizes he’s been holding his breath. When George goes to tell him time’s up, he finds Bucky on the ground, gasping for air.

George asks, “Are you okay, son?” and Bucky laughs in wheezes.

(For once, he’s winded because he’s out of shape and not because of a panic attack.)

[randomfandomimagine]

Meeting Doc (Marty McFly x Reader)

Characters: Marty McFly, Emmet ‘Doc’ Brown

Fandom: Back to the Future

Tags: Meeting the family

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,4k words

Requested by (Marty) anon: hey Trish!! would you be up for a Marty ficlet where he takes reader (his s/o) with him to meet Doc, and Doc's kind of apprehensive and protective of Marty at first but after awhile he warms up to reader and they all just end up goofing off together at the end? have a wonderful day :)

Link: AO3

A/N: Here it is! I hope you like it, lovely! It was fun to write and to explore this side of the characters!

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

Marty McFly x Gender Neutral Reader

Everyone in Hill Valley had heard about Doctor Brown. He was the strange scientist of the town. Some called him crazy and some called him dangerous. Being Marty McFly’s partner, though, you pictured a very different version of that same man.

In Marty’s eyes, Doc was a genius. He was a misunderstood person who was in love with science and very passionate about it, constantly trying out new inventions that would quench his curiosity and help the world.

Perhaps none of those versions were true, but merely the projections of the people that looked at him. Nonetheless, you were more inclined to believe Marty than everyone else. Of course, it helped that Marty was your boyfriend, but Doc didn’t seem dangerous. At the very least, he was a very interesting and unique person that you couldn’t wait to meet.

“Okay” Marty stopped before Doc’s residence, licking his lips and turning to you.

You didn’t know who was more nervous about this meeting, you or Marty. Although you weren’t sure if you would make a good first impression, it was clear that this was very important to Marty too. The both of you were the most important people in his life, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you two not getting along.

“Okay….” He repeated, taking a deep breath. “Are you ready, Y/N?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him and took his hand. “I’m excited to meet him”

“Now, before we come in…” Marty paused, lifting your hand and patting it. “You know Doc’s a little...”

“What?”

“Well… you may think he’s a bit… wacky”

“So I heard”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Marty kept playing with your hand, moving it around as he tried to push out any of his nervous energy. “It takes a bit to really get him, you know? But once you do, he’s the best”

“What are you trying to say?”  

“He’s just different from everyone else in Hill Valley”

“Marty” You patiently said, returning to your sweet smile. “I know what people say about Doc, and it doesn’t bother me”

“Really?” He finally smiled, sighing in relief once you eased his fear.

“Yeah, he might be different, but that just means he’s not boring” You paused, watching how his tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “I want to meet him, and not just because you want me to. I want to meet your friend, who also happens to seem like a very interesting person”

“You’re the best” Marty leaned in to kiss you in the cheek. “Let’s come in then”

You took a deep breath as he opened the door for you. Immediately, you were received with a very different environment than the one you were just in outside of the house. The entire room was dark and felt heavy with electricity. It also smelled slightly like chemicals.

A sudden fear reached you once you realized you knew nothing about science. What if you had nothing in common with Doc to get along with him? It would break Marty’s heart if you two just stood there awkwardly.

“Doc?” He called out, bringing you back to reality as he tugged at your hand, directing you with him through the messy house. “Doc, we’re here!”

After some rustling, footsteps were heard. A tall man with disheveled white hair appeared wearing a white lab coat, with wide eyes and goggles over his forehead.

“Great Scott!” The man muttered, quickly looking at his wristwatch. “Is it time already?”

“Yeah” Marty put his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N is here”

“Doctor Brown!” You smiled at him, offering your hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Marty has told me all about you”

The man stayed distant for a moment as he carefully watched you.

“Yeah, yeah…” He dryly said, absently shaking your hand. “You too”

“Y/N was really excited to meet you, Doc” Marty beamed, shaking you around a little as though passing over to you more of that excitement.

The man only nodded, lifting his chin up and looking down at you. His brown eyes were filled with distrust. Suddenly, that eagerness you felt died down. Instead, it was replaced by a cold disappointment.

Marty had talked so highly of Doc that you thought he was one of the best people in Hill Valley. However, now that you had met him in person, he behaved in a petty manner.

“Tell me, how long have you and Marty been together?” He then asked, to make matters worse. His tone was harsh and judgmental.

“Doc…” Marty complained, but you answered the question nonetheless.

“Almost a year”

“Do you get good grades?”

“Doc!”

The man shut his mouth, looking at his friend in startle. You clenched your jaw, standing up straight to show him you weren’t intimidated by his questioning.

“Is this an interview?” You demanded to know, forcing him to face you.

The two of you glared at each other, further challenging one another. You could feel Marty’s eyes moving from him to you. He stirred in the spot before finally piping up.

“Uh… y-you know what?” Marty nervously said, passing a hand through his hair. “Why don’t I show Y/N that thing you invented? You know, that gadget thingy”

“Very well” Doc replied without glancing at him, too busy staring at you.

“I’ll be right back!” Marty exclaimed as he ran off, trying to take as little time away from you as possible.

As soon as your boyfriend disappeared in the next room, you acquired a defensive stance to mask your outrage. No matter how smart ‘Doc’ was, you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Doctor Brown” You gravely began. “With all due respect, I don’t know what your problem with me is, and I honestly don’t care. I think we should put our differences aside for Marty’s sake”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted, foreseeing a complaint.

“If you don’t like me for, that’s alright” You continued, peering up at him to meet his tall stature. “But it’s very important to Marty that we get along, so I suggest you do it for him if you really care so much about him”

The scientist stared at you in awe. After a moment of surprise, he smiled at you.

“You are absolutely right”

“T-Thank you”

“I apologize, it was unfair of me to treat you like that” Doc bowed his head down as a sign of respect. “I was only looking out for Marty, but if you truly care so much about him, I must have been too quick to judge you”

“Of course I care about Marty!” You loudly said, lowering your tone when you realized he might return soon. “That is why I wanted to meet you on the first place, Doctor Brown!”

“As did I” He sighed, shaking his head to himself. “Forgive me, Y/N, I merely wanted to ensure you were good for Marty. He is an extraordinary young man and he deserves the very best”

“I agree” Now that the tension had dissipated, a more comfortable silence established. However, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant. “And well… am I good for him?”

“I’m here!” Marty arrived just then, interrupting the scientist before he could reply. However, the smile in his lips was answer enough.

“Ah, thank you, Marty” He said instead, taking a small oval shaped gadget from him.

“What were you talking about?” The young man looked from one to the other again.

“I was telling Y/N that… I was frustrated with a project… but that is no excuse, I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sorry”

“Thank you. And it’s alright”

“Allow me to start again” Doc cleared his throat, offering you his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Doctor Emmett Brown, but you can call me Emmett”

“It’s nice to meet you, Emmett” You replied with a smile, giving his hand a firm but gentle shake.

A pause followed. Watching Marty with the corner of your eye, you realized he was smiling wide and had the emotion reflected in his eyes. You smiled to yourself.

“Tell me, Y/N” Emmett then said, motioning in a friendly gesture. “Would you like to know how my invention works?”

“I would love to” You took Marty’s hand, following Doc as he went to turn all the lights on and demonstrate to you how his new invention worked.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @fandomxreaders​ /  @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @dancingwith-sunflowers​ / @welcome-here-in-my-world / @unstable-puffin-writing​​ // Send an ask if you want to be added to the tag list for this fandom!

[featherthiefdean]

Dean and Cas are both having a bad week months after pulling Cas from the Empty. When they get stuck in the car during a rainstorm, Dean finally gets the courage to tell, or really show, Cas how he feels.

1.6K words

Read on AO3 here

Sometimes when it rains, it absolutely pours.

Dean was frustrated. Everything about this last week had gone about as wrong as wrong could go. Things fell apart when a witch, on what should have been routine hunt, tossed him around like a rag doll. She even managed to bust Sam’s shoulder by throwing him through a window not once but twice.

It got worse when Dean realized that the reason the hunt went sideways was because the spell hadn’t worked properly. Cas had sent a picture of the witch stopping spell to Dean’s phone but the picture had distorted and cut off the last ingredient necessary to make the spell work. You would think sending a picture from a magical bunker to the middle of nowhere Montana wouldn’t be too much for modern technology. Thankfully, Dean was able to reach his gun while the witch was busy tossing his brother. Two witch-killing bullets later, she was dead.

When Dean sent Cas a text saying they had to detour to the hospital to get Sam fixed up, Cas called him seconds later. The guilt that his phone malfunctioned caused Cas to lose it on the other end of the line and nothing Dean could say would calm the guy down.  Dean thought maybe Cas would feel better when Sam and Dean returned to the bunker and saw that they were fine but that turned into a whole other issue all together. Cas’s eyes went wide at the sight of Sam’s arm in a sling. Sam assured him it was just a bad sprain but Cas’s distress was clear. Cas’s final straw had been seeing the bruise forming along the left side of Dean’s face.

Cas raised his hand to touch the bruise almost like he was going to heal him. When Cas’s hands made contact, Dean unwittingly flinched from pain. Cas withdrew his hand quickly and silently. He went straight to his room without another spoken word. Dean knew that the photo mishap and the reminder that he could no longer heal them made Cas feel like a failure. Then, Dean flinching when Cas touched him probably sent the wrong message. Feelings of guilt overwhelmed the former angel and Cas hid in his room for the last six days. The inability to offer Cas comfort or reassurance left Dean feeling like a failure too.

Dean had tried to talk to Cas every time he emerged to use the bathroom or get some food but he was met with stony silence or passive aggressive comments. It had been two months since Cas’s last emotional episode and this one felt rougher than normal. When Claire called to ask them to cover a weird case she found while she worked a vampire nest with Jody, Dean ended up literally dragging the new human out of his room because Sam was benched for the foreseeable future. Cas protested going until Dean said that he needed backup. It was clear Cas didn’t want to be anywhere near Dean which only soured his mood further.

The icing on the shit cake was when the Impala ate one of Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin tapes two hours into a ten-hour drive in the pouring rain.

Yeah, Dean was over this week.

By the time they pulled into the motel they would staying at, a pond had formed in the parking lot big enough to drown a rat from the Princess Bride and the rain seemed to be falling heavier every second. Dean shifted the Impala to park and shut off the engine but made no effort to get out of the car. He leaned forward to look out the windshield to see if there was any end in sight for the torrent of rain but they couldn’t be so lucky.

“Dean, what are you looking for?” Cas asked from the passenger seat as he mimicked the lean. It was the first time he had spoken in hours after talking on the phone with Sam. They had spoken about the case and the case only so Dean could focus on keeping them from hydroplaning off the backroads to the rundown town they were in now.

“I’m looking out for the T-Rex, can’t let it scoop us up before we’ve even had the chance to get dinner.”

Cas turned his entire body towards Dean at this statement. His pink lips parted into a small, confused O and bright blue eyes squinted at Dean in confusion. Dean wouldn’t chance opening Baby’s door with the falling rain but he would let himself drown in Cas’s eyes if given a chance.

“Jurassic Park, Cas. We watched the original last month when Jack stopped by for burgers. You spent the entire move talking about dinosaurs actually having feathers.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember now. ‘Life finds a way.’” Cas’s voiced slipped even lower while quoting the movie, the gravel in his voice even more pronounced. 

Cas went back to looking out the window and watched the rain pour down around them. Dean was free to stare at Cas more openly now. Cas had ditched the trench coat and suit not long after returning from the Empty. Dean never asked why. Now, he was in a blue hooded sweatshirt that brought out his eyes and a pair of well-worn jeans. There was a hint of stubble on his face and his hair was longer than normal. Dean took in all of Cas and felt a sharp pain of longing in his chest. Not a word had been said about “before” but Dean had been meaning to talk-

“We should probably head inside. I don’t think the rain is going to let up soon and I promised I would call Sam back when we arrived,” Cas said as he turned his focus back to Dean.

“Technically, you said you would call him back when we got into the motel room. We aren’t in the room yet.”

“You want me to avoid talking to Sam on a technicality?”

“No, I want to avoid getting soaked down to my underwear and then have to listen to Sam drone on about the lore.”

“Well, if we aren’t getting out of the car soon, what exactly would you like to do to pass the time?”

Dean could definitely think of a few things. He thought about leaning over and kissing Cas breathless while feeling the newly formed stubble beneath his fingertips. He thought about dragging Cas over the front seat while the rain hit the metal roof of the Impala and drowned out his moans. He thought about pulling off Cas’s sweatshirt first and then the former Metallica tee that Cas stole from Dean’s laundry the first week he was human as the windows begin to fog up. He thought about his hands tracing Cas’s-

“Dean, are you listening to me?”

“Buddy, I’m always listening to you.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“I-uh-”

“Exactly, you never listen. Even before when I-” Cas trailed off and angrily watched the raindrops race down the window.

Dean’s heart broke a little more inside. His heart had shattered when Cas confessed his feelings before being taken by the Empty. The shattered pieces crumbled further when he realized the feelings he had been harboring for years towards his best friend were romantic. He loved Cas back. What little pieces that remained had been ground into dust when he thought he wouldn’t get the chance to say it back and he was too late.

When Cas came back, the pieces began to fit back together slowly yet he had never mentioned them again for fear of his heart being broken one last time. It might break him if Cas had changed his mind and he couldn’t risk it.

Dean slid closer to Cas and nudged him gently with his hand, “I listen, Cas. Always, at least to the important stuff anyway.”

“Really Dean? Because I don’t think you have ever taken anything I have said seriously. Not a single time, maybe when I was an angel but certainly not since I’ve become human.”

“Hey, yes I do. I just got distracted a minute ago-“

“No Dean, you don’t listen. It doesn’t matter what I say or how I say it. You don’t hear me. I don’t know why I’m even here.”

The anger had evaporated from Cas’s voice leaving him sounding tired and sad. Cas let his head roll back onto the soft vinyl seat and shut his eyes.

The elephant-sized weight of everything that had gone unsaid between the two of them was suffocating. The fear in his chest of voicing his own feelings were out gunned by his fear of losing Cas. This week was bad enough with Cas avoiding him, he couldn’t stand if Cas had the exact wrong opinion because of him. Cas thought Dean didn’t care. He thought he didn’t feel the same. The only problem with that was Dean had fallen more in love with Cas with every passing day.

“Cas, look at me.”

Cas let out a deep sigh before turning his head back to Dean. Blue eyes locked with green and Dean knew what he needed to do.

“Cas, I hear you and… I heard you. That Day.”

Dean leaned forward to capture Cas’s lips with his. He channeled everything he had been meaning to say since, well, forever into it. After a moment, Cas was kissing him back. Gentle compared to fierceness coming from Dean. The stubble underneath his fingers and the soft feeling of Cas’s lips sent Dean straight to Heaven.

A few minutes later and much too soon to Dean’s humble opinion, they broke apart.

“I love you too, Cas. Always have.”

Maybe the rain wasn’t drowning them after all, maybe it was washing the slate clean for the first time.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Words: 750~

Summary: His family’s not present, the third time he runs away. They never see the creature he becomes.

Early corruption AU.

Hi, folks. It’s been a while. Let’s get this started up again, shall we? (There’s some lore headcanons in the author’s notes of the AO3 version!)

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

____

Week two without Steven carries with it a wave of stagnation and hopelessness that is deceptively hard to fend off.

There’s no more daily search parties, for instance. Without any clear leads to follow, almost every member of their search brigade agrees that wandering this planet aimlessly seems like a grand waste of time. What they actually need right now is information, and unfortunately— from what Garnet has surmised in her own explorations— there’s a daunting shortage of it. The stark footprints leading towards the ocean from the house only advance so far under the water before they entirely disappear, which points towards either the erosive force of the tides quickly buffing them away, or this creature lifting its legs off the seabed’s surface to swim. Additionally, not a single sensor placed upon the continents of this world has been triggered by the passage of a corrupted Gem, and there’s been no sighting of Steven himself, not in the whole galaxy. On a typical Era 2 scouting mission, intel from her future vision would generally prove reliable enough to provide the approximate whereabouts of a target, should it pass through one of their monitored perimeters, but in this scenario, the cruel reality is that for once she finds herself entirely blind. They simply do not know enough about the corrupted Gem they’re after to predict any of its actions. They evidently don’t know enough about Steven anymore, either.

Garnet finishes hammering a beam into place underneath the damaged beach house and steps back, already fairly certain that her work should fix the dangerous bowing of the floorboards in the kitchen. Gingerly, and admiring her handiwork, she steps back from the crisscrossing supports, holding her chosen tool (her standard gauntlet, more than tough enough to propel nails through wood) at her side.

“Pearl, you can test it now,” she calls to her lifelong partner and friend, cupping her mouth with one of her hands.

Vibrations emanate from above as the Gem in question lightly bounces on her feet over the former weak spot. Sure enough, the wood doesn’t warp and bend under her weight anymore.

Despite every deep-seated sorrow of the past few days— late night discussions spent reflecting on their shortcomings, Greg’s almost suffocating despair, Amethyst’s recent absence— Garnet can’t help but flash a smile at their small success. “That’s perfect,” she says, letting her single gauntlet dissipate into light once more. “Let’s regroup at the temple’s entrance.”

She makes the quick walk up the sandy hill and onto the newly refurbished porch, pushing the thick blue tarp covering the dismantled front wall of the house aside. Between a number of fellow Crystal Gems over the past two weeks, so far they’ve managed to clear all the debris, remove all of the damaged wallboards and window frames, and mend a few main structural supports. Given that they’re essentially building a brand new house upon a skeleton of the old one, full repair is bound to take a while, however— especially since Bismuth’s taken over the duty of running Little Homeschool in their absence.

When she reaches the locked doorway beyond the warp pad, Pearl is already standing there, hands clasped expectantly in front of her.

“I had an idea earlier,” she begins slowly, her weary gaze shifting towards front of the house, and the boundless ocean lying beyond that rough blue tarp.

Garnet nods, beckoning for her to continue. Ideas have been in short supply lately, after all. Pearl tightly inhales, and continues.

“Our sensors and arrays haven’t caught any glimpse of that corrupted Gem, but what about the humans’ satellite feeds? They’re scattered, rudimentary, yes... but if they provide any quantity of coverage over those oceans, then...”

“We’d have to hack into their systems,” she warns, adjusting her visor as she takes a quick peek into the possible futures this action may lead to fruition. Many of them aren’t desirable, ending with Little Homeschool gaining the wrong kind of human attention and being shut down by government forces, or worse.

“That’s true, but don’t you think—“

Their conversation is abruptly cut off by a sudden holler coming from outside the house, calling their names. It’s Peridot. Yet another turn of the tides she failed to foresee. Garnet presses her lips tight together as she strides past the edge of the tarp and onto the refurbished balcony, immediately spotting the green Gem below, sunlight glinting off the edge of her star shaped visor.

“You guys have to come with me!” she exclaims urgently, panting as if she’d just run a long distance to reach them. “I think I figured out how to find Steven!”

[jmbringitonworld]

Good Girl Needs Kiss (2)

AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

I've reluctantly been forced to accept that this will have three chapters, but I'm determined that that'll be it! The next chapter will definitely be the last one! I don't know how long it'll be, but I won't extend this fic any further than that.

I've also decided that there'll be some minor Frans, because I'm utter Frans trash and because of plot reasons (it does actually serve a purpose, I swear), so if you don't like that, then feel free to click off.

Thank you SO MUCH to @a-snowpoff for helping me and giving me lots of encouragement and ideas, it's been incredibly motivating and you've inspired quite a few things in this chapter. This wouldn't have been possible without you!

Now with all that out of the way, have more fluff and shenanigans!

EDIT: I just got a comment from someone on AO3 expressing their huge disappointment at my being a Frans shipper. This person didn't bother to leave a comment when they still liked my fic, they only did so now, when they no longer like it. What the actual fuck. Like seriously, why? Why do you only choose to comment when you're unhappy? Why only put forth the effort to reach out to someone else when you've got something negative to say to them? How sad is that? The only bright side is that at least they weren't nasty or rude to me. But I just don't get this kind of behaviour. I'd much rather praise the good things I come across, and ignore the bad. But this just really put a damper on my mood.

________________________________________________

Chapter 2 : Dating... Start??

I was ripped from the blissful oblivion of sleep by the feeling of being gently lifted into the air, before being set back down on a soft surface. I jolted up with a start and wildly looked around for what could have picked me up so easily, coming face to, uh, skull with a giant skeleton. It took a few seconds for my sleep-addled brain to return to full working conditions, but the reality of my current situation did eventually hit me. Oh right. I’d messed up a spell and was now stuck as a chihuahua for the foreseeable future. Goodie.

Papyrus smiled apologetically down at me, his hand coming up to gently caress my head.

“OOPSIE, SORRY GIRL, I DIDN’T MEAN TO WAKE YOU. I WAS JUST ABOUT TO SET OFF FOR MY MORNING JOG! WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN ME? OH, BUT! ONLY IF YOU’RE UP FOR IT! YESTERDAY WAS A VERY BUSY DAY FOR YOU, AFTER ALL. IF YOU’RE STILL TIRED, YOU CAN REST FOR NOW.”

I glanced at the nearby window, seeing that the curtains remained shut, but I could tell from the darkness still enveloping the room that it was very early in the morning, likely before dawn. I wasn’t surprised that Papyrus was an early riser; I was actually more surprised that he slept at all, given how much energy he seemed to possess.

Well, I’m already awake, so I might as well join him , I decided. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been up this early before, given the odd hours some special ingredients had to be collected, or the specific times some spells had to be cast. Also, my magic was at its most powerful at witching hour, obviously, so I’d often stay up most of the night to perform the most magically demanding of witchcraft. But I usually went to bed earlier to make up for that, so I wasn’t used to having this little sleep. Oh well, no use complaining about it now ...

With a huge yawn, I stood up shakily on my four paws, and stretched as best as I could manage with my canine body. I didn’t fall over, so I counted that as a win. Shaking the last of the sleep from my head, following the motion through to the rest of my body, I looked up at Papyrus expectantly. He grinned down at me, looking pleased.

“OH HO?... YOU WANT TO JOIN ME THAT BADLY?! WOWIE!! I’M SO EXCITED! WE REALLY ARE BESTIES AREN’T WE!?!?”

He then dashed off into his closet, presumably to get changed into his exercise clothes, before re-emerging astonishingly quickly in his new outfit. He struck a pose, one arm in the air, the other resting on his hipbones.  

“TA-DA!! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY SPORTY STYLE?!”

I cocked my head to the side. His “sporty style” consisted of a shirt that barely covered his ribs, with hearts drawn on the sleeves and “jogboy” written on the front in what seemed like permanent marker, matching shorts, his usual boots, and what I took to be his signature red scarf. While it couldn’t compare to spooky witch robes and pointy witch hat, his outfit had an undeniable “Papyrus” charm to it.

I barked my approval, my tail wagging in show of support, and Papyrus brought his hands up to the sides of his skull, as what could only be a blush stained his cheekbones.

“WOWIE!! YOU LIKE IT?!?! GOSH! YOUR FRIENDSHIP POWER MIGHT EVEN BE A MATCH FOR MY OWN! NYEH!!”

My friendship power is unbeatable! I puffed out my chest, proud of the many friends I’d made throughout my life. The fact that none of them were human or monster was entirely irrelevant. I was very popular!

Afterwards, the both of us made our way to the front door. As we walked through the living room, we passed by Midnight, who was sleeping curled up next to that stupid mutt, in the dog bed. I tried my best to ignore the both of them, but the dog jumped up at our arrival and followed us out the door, clearly intent on joining us for our jog. No! Go away, cat thief! This is mine and Papyrus’s exercise time! I growled at him, but he only woofed at me with a goofy, gormless expression on his stupid doggy face. Papyrus beamed down at the both of us.

“ALL RIGHT, YOU TWO! FOLLOW ME! NOW OFF WE GO!! NYEH HEH HEH!!”

And with that as my only warning, he took off, running at full speed, the little white dog joining him almost instantly. I stood, stunned, for a second, before chasing after them as fast as my tiny legs could carry me. I managed to catch up to them eventually, but the effort took a lot out of me, and I felt dread start to creep into my heart, as I realised that there was no way that I would be able to keep up with them for much longer.

Indeed, after an embarrassingly short amount of time, my legs, still aching from the previous day’s exertions, finally gave up on me, and I started to flag. I barked as loudly as my tiny chihuahua lungs could manage (which was incredibly loud for something that small, what the hell), which immediately caught Papyrus’s attention. He stopped, turned around, and ran back to me, as I collapsed on the floor, panting heavily from exhaustion.

“OH NOES! HAS YOUR ENERGY SUPPLY RUN OUT?! POOR GIRL!! I’M SORRY FOR NOT NOTICING SOONER HOW TIRED YOU ARE! BUT WORRY NOT! THE GREAT PAPYRUS SHALL TAKE IT FROM HERE!!”

He then lifted me into his arms and took off again, resuming his jog. He kept the same fast pace, my added weight, meagre as it was, not seeming to be the slightest hindrance to him. I felt whimpers building up in my throat, as I saw the huge gap between our physical capabilities. I had never been the most active person, with the most exercise I did, being hunting for potion ingredients, dodging the more volatile plants in my garden, and running from particularly ornery wildlife. I never did any truly strenuous activities, that’s what enchanted brooms were for. Speaking of which, I must remember to take Papyrus flying one day, I’m certain he’d enjoy that ...

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I was growing very disheartened at how weak I was. Papyrus, kind and attentive monster that he was, soon noticed my failing spirits. Not slowing down, he began rubbing my head, his gloved phalanges gently scratching me behind my ears.

“WHAT’S WRONG, GIRL? WHY THE SAD EYES??”

I could only stare despondently into his eye sockets, not knowing how to convey my thoughts to him. But he seemed to understand me just fine regardless, as he gave me a consoling smile, continuing his tender petting.

“ARE YOU UPSET THAT YOU AREN’T AS STRONG AS I AM?” I looked away, pouting internally, if not externally, given my fewer facial muscles. “PLEASE! DO NOT BE SAD! THERE ARE VERY FEW PEOPLE WHO CAN MATCH MY INCREDIBLE PHYSICAL PROWESS!! I AM VERY GREAT, AFTER ALL! NYEH!”

When that failed to cheer me up, Papyrus’s expression softened. He slowed to a stop, lifting me up until I was directly in front of his skull.

“MY SWEET GIRL, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. YOU DID VERY WELL FOR ONE SO TINY! YOU RAN VERY FAST! FOR VERY LONG! YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF YOUR ABILITIES, EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT CURRENTLY WHERE YOU WANT THEM TO BE! YOU CAN ALWAYS IMPROVE YOURSELF IF YOU TRY!!”

Admittedly, I did feel a little better at his words of encouragement, but I still couldn’t help feeling inadequate. It certainly didn’t help that Papyrus’s dog had taken to running circles around us, his stamina seemingly infinite. Show off ... I whined at him. Was he even really a dog? Papyrus followed my gaze and frowned.

“DO NOT PAY ANY ATTENTION TO HOW WELL OTHERS ARE DOING! THEY ARE THEM! YOU ARE YOU!! AND YOU ARE DOING YOUR BEST! THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS!! JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE ELSE IS BETTER AT SOMETHING THAN YOU ARE, DOESN’T MEAN THAT YOU ARE BAD AT THAT THING! OR THAT YOU CAN NEVER GET BETTER! IF YOU WORK HARD, I KNOW THAT YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!”

I stared into his eye sockets, at the little glints of light I could see shining within them. He was being sincere. He genuinely had complete faith in me, and my ability to do anything I set my mind to. Huh. For the first time, I was grateful for my current body, as otherwise I’d be blushing madly right now. I felt ticklish at knowing that someone as self-confident as Papyrus, was equally confident in me. I swore to not let him down. I’d show him that I could be great, too!

At my determined barks, Papyrus beamed proudly at me.

“NYEH HEH HEH! THAT’S THE SPIRIT!! YOU ARE VERY GREAT! I PROMISE YOU! I AM CERTAIN THAT YOU CAN DO AMAZING THINGS! AND EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DO EVERYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO, OR AS WELL AS YOU’D LIKE TO, I KNOW THAT THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT ONLY YOU CAN DO! I JUST KNOW IT!!”

There are! I wanted to yell, there’s so much I want to show you! It had never really occurred to me before, since my mother and many others were leagues ahead of me, but being a witch was something special. My brand of magic wasn’t something everyone could practice, and even if I still had a long way to go to master my powers, my current progress was still an achievement that I deserved to be proud of. And one day, I would show Papyrus wonders he’d never seen before, mystical arts that only I, and the precious few in my line of work, could do. I would impress him. Some day. I promise .

I wasn’t sure what Papyrus gleamed from my expression, but it seemed to satisfy him. He gave me an overjoyed smile, petting me more vigorously than he’d ever dared to before, and then returned to his jog, his loud “NYEH HEH HEH!!” ringing in the air like a victory chant.

~~~

The rest of the jog was mostly uneventful, barring one particular incident.

At some point, my lingering drowsiness caught up to me and I nodded off, rocked to sleep by the comforting arms wrapped around me and the familiar scent of expertly cooked spaghetti. When I woke up some time later, Papyrus was still jogging at the same brutal pace he’d maintained during his entire run, and had yet to even break a sweat (if he actually could , that is). His dog was keeping pace effortlessly somehow, but I noticed that, at some point while I was asleep, he’d somehow acquired a small, round object, and was carrying it in his mouth as he ran.

Huh. That ball looked suspiciously like my Orb of Pondering. Wait a minute , I narrowed my eyes, that is my Orb of Pondering! Growls bubbled up from deep in my throat and erupted into loud, angry barks. That little thief had stolen my Orb of Pondering! Why that son of a bitch! Well, I mean, he was literally a son of a bitch, since he was a dog and all, so that wasn’t an insult so much as a simple fact, but nevertheless, that son of a bitch !

Papyrus stumbled as I threw an almighty tantrum in his arms, and desperately tried to calm me down with pets and scritches.

“WOAH! EASY THERE, GIRL! WHAT’S WRONG?! DO YOU WANT A BALL, TOO?? I PROMISE TO GET YOU YOUR VERY OWN BALL TOY WHEN I GO SHOPPING AFTER BREAKFAST! SO PLEASE CALM DOWN!!”

That is NOT a toy! I howled my protests to the heavens. That is a precious family heirloom, given to me by my mother! It’s a valuable magical artifact, with mysterious powers! So mysterious, in fact, that I had no idea what they were. I’d asked my mother what the Orb did, when she’d first handed it to me, but she’d only given me an enigmatic smile. Clearly, this was some kind of test of my magical aptitude! One I was determined to pass! I would unravel the Orb’s hidden secrets, and prove myself a competent explorer of the occult! But I couldn’t do that, if that dicktwaddle of a dog stole my Orb!

I was fuming, but I knew that, realistically, there was very little that I could do about this injustice, not in my current state. Moreover, I had no idea how that mongrel had even found my Orb of Pondering in the first place. My home wasn’t exactly easy to get to, being a witch’s cottage, tucked away in the heart of the spookiest, most supernatural forest I could find. It might not be the most ideal location for business, but the ambiance perfectly suited my witch aesthetic. And I was sure that Papyrus would agree with me. I hope he comes to visit me when I’m human again ...

When we eventually returned to the skeleton household, the sun had finally made its appearance, shining its warm light on the world and promising a day of good weather. Once inside, Papyrus gently set me back on the floor, offering me one last pat on the head and a “GOOD GIRL!”, before he departed for the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I, however, chose to stay in the living room, to glare at that stupid, orb-and-cat-stealing canine.

The mutt in question trotted over to Midnight, who was still curled up in their basket, and dropped my orb in front of him. The cat’s ears flicked, before his head slowly rose up. His cool gaze shifted between the dog, the orb, then back again. With a languorous stretch, Midnight yawned, then sat up. He slowly lifted his paw high in the air, held it there for a few tense seconds, and then quick as a flash, he swung it down and whacked my orb away. The orb went careening across the room, as my eyes widened and my jaw dropped. The dog instantly tore off after my orb, barking exuberantly, his tail wagging a mile a minute. He swiftly caught my orb, then rushed back to the cat’s side, depositing the object back on the floor, and stared hopefully at Midnight. The cat once again forcefully swatted my orb away, and the dog once again gave chase.

As I watched this back and forth, I could feel incredulous rage building within me. They were playing fetch. With my Orb of Pondering! The heathens! Middy should know better! Priceless ancient artifacts should be treated with respect, not used as some cheap toy! I had half a mind to go over there and give them a good telling off, for all the good that’d do, but Papyrus’s loud announcement of breakfast being ready, effectively took my mind off of those two troublemakers, and onto the promise of good food. With a rumbling stomach, I dashed off towards the dining room.

Papyrus had already placed two bowls of oatmeal, with little dinosaur eggs in them, onto the table, and brought a third bowl over to me once I entered the room. Placing it on the floor before me, he gave me a pat on the head and a bright smile.

“THIS IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE FOOD!! IT’S TASTY! AND NUTRITIOUS! AND HAS LITTLE DINOSAURS IN IT!! I LOVE IT!! I HOPE YOU’LL LOVE IT TOO!!”

I cocked my head at him, more than a little shocked to learn that his favourite food wasn’t, in fact, spaghetti, but nonetheless gave him a cheerful bark and tail wag, in place of a smile and thumbs up. Papyrus beamed at my reaction, his eye sockets lighting up, quite literally, and took his seat at the table with a delighted “NYEH HEH HEH!”.

I turned back to my bowl of oatmeal and gave it a few deep, curious sniffs. It smelled like regular oatmeal. And sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. I deflated a little, having expected something a little more out of the ordinary, from the favourite food of someone as extraordinary as Papyrus. Maybe it tasted more special than it smelled? I took a bite. The flavour of brown sugar instantly filled my mouth. Nope. Still just regular oatmeal. And sugar. So much sugar . I chewed my completely ordinary oatmeal, feeling very disappointed. Oh well, at least it’s sweet . And the dinosaur eggs dissolve into colourful dinosaur shapes. That’s kinda cool, I suppose .

I perked up a little when Sans stepped into the room, yawning sleepily and rubbing his eye sockets.

“mornin’ bro,” he greeted Papyrus. At my bark, he tilted his skull towards me and gave me wink. “an’ mornin’ to you too, buddy.”

“GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO, BROTHER,” Papyrus raised a browbone at him, his tone becoming stern. “I SHALL BE BUSY ALL DAY TODAY, SO I HOPE YOU MANAGE TO BEHAVE YOURSELF, WITHOUT ME TO KEEP AN EYE SOCKET ON YOU.”

Sans’s grin widened cheekily, his eyelights twinkling.

“i dunno, pap. i get so bonely without ya. maybe i’ll visit your work, keep you company, give you some food for thought , heh heh.”

Papyrus slammed a fist on the table, causing all of the objects atop it to rattle.

“NO!! NO TERRIBLE PUNS! AND NO BOTHERING ME AND MY COLLEAGUES WHILE WE’RE WORKING, EITHER! THE RESTAURANT IS NO PLACE FOR UNFUNNY LAZYBONES!!”

“ouch, bro. way to cut me to the bone.”

“NYEEEHH!!”

Sans chuckled unabashedly, while Papyrus glared, bug-eyed, at him, their breakfast momentarily forgotten. I’d finished off my bowl of oatmeal during the brothers’ little exchange, so I padded over to Sans, feeling curious about Papyrus’s brother, whom I’d yet to get properly acquainted with. He clearly meant a lot to Papyrus, so I wanted to get to know him better.

The shorter skeleton monster noticed my approach and grinned down at me. I nudged his fibula with my nose, and he bent down to pet me. I inhaled his scent, while my tail wagged automatically at the attention. Sans smelled of ketchup, snow, machinery and... something sweet and flowery. I canted my head to the side, staring at him thoughtfully. That last scent struck me as out of place for him, though I couldn’t quite put my finger, er, paw, on why, and so chalked it up to some canine instinct. I wonder where he picked that scent up from ...

After giving me one last pet, Sans returned to his bowl of oatmeal. He produced a bottle of ketchup from out of nowhere, and proceeded to dump most of its contents into his bowl, chugging the rest down directly from the bottle. Was... was that normal? I couldn’t be certain, given my limited interaction with other people, either human or monster. For all I knew, this was common breakfast behaviour. Papyrus didn’t seem to pay it any mind, so I assumed that it must be. Huh. You really do learn new things all the time... How fascinating!

Once everyone had finished their breakfast (the dog had tried to offer some of his kibble to Midnight, but my cat had turned his nose up and started grooming himself), Papyrus stood up.

“WELL THEN, BROTHER, I’M OFF TO THE PET STORE! I NEED TO GET EVERYTHING MY LITTLE LADY NEEDS TO FEEL RIGHT AT HOME HERE.”

Sans waved him off, getting to his feet as well.

“’kay, have fun, then. i’m off to work. see ya tonight, pap.”

And then he left the room, vanishing once he’d turned the corner, his scent also completely disappearing. I blinked. The heck...? How? Can he teleport or something? What an interesting boneman. I shook my head, and then trotted over to Papyrus, who smiled down at me.

“DO YOU WANT TO ACCOMPANY ME TO THE PET STORE, TINY MISS?”

I yipped an affirmative, wagging my tail and hopping from paw to paw for emphasis. Papyrus’s expression brightened.

“WOWIE! YOU REALLY CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF ME, CAN YOU? NYEH HEH HEH!! I CAN’T BLAME YOU, I AM VERY COOL, AFTER ALL. AND I’M VERY HAPPY TO HAVE YOU WITH ME. YOU ARE A WONDERFUL FRIEND!! I LOVE SPENDING TIME WITH YOU!!”

I love spending time with you too, Pap! I did a little doggy dance, overflowing with excitement. I did trip over my paws, though, and fell flat on my face, but Papyrus was kind enough to pick me back up. And he didn’t even laugh at me, which was very considerate of him. He then rushed off to his bedroom, to go get cleaned up and changed, and I barely had time to wander about the living room, looking for my Orb of Pondering (unsuccessfully, curse you dog!), before he dashed back into the room, dressed in a casual outfit.

I eyed his form appreciatively. He was wearing loose trousers, sneakers and his usual scarf, but what caught my eye was his purple sweater, decorated with cute, little dinosaurs. It was very paleontological. I raised my front paws up, balancing myself on my hindquarters, and brought them together in a clumsy attempt at clapping. Papyrus seemed to guess my intentions, because he preened, bringing one hand up to rub at the back of his skull, as he blushed.

“NYEH HEH HEH... YOU HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE IF YOU CAN APPRECIATE MY UNPARALELLED FASHION SENSE!”

I lifted my head proudly. Well of course I do! I am very stylish, and my witch robes are both fashionable and practical! And birds love nesting in my big hat, so it’s obviously the ideal headwear!

Papyrus bent down and gathered me into his arms, giving my chin a little scratch while he was at it, and together, we left the house and walked to his car. This time, instead of placing me in the passenger seat, Papyrus kept me in his lap.

“YOU’LL BE WARMER AND MORE COMFORTABLE LIKE THIS. SKELETONS ARE VERY CUDDLY, AFTER ALL!”

* yip *

“NYEH HEH HEH HEH!! EXACTLY! NOW OFF WE GO!!”

And so the two of us drove off. I did indeed feel much warmer and more comfortable, as I snuggled up against Papyrus. There really was no better way to travel.

~~~

The pet shop Papyrus brought us to was the largest in all of Ebott City, and catered to a wide range of different types of pets, from your standard cats and dogs, to small mammals, to aquatic life, and even to birds and reptiles. I was sat in the child’s seat of the shopping cart, as Papyrus pushed us along the aisles, my nose going into overdrive, vigorously sniffing all these exotic new smells, my tail a frenzy of motion.

The cart steadily filled up as we walked, with more dog food for the Orb thief, various dog treats I wrinkled my nose at, some cat treats for Midnight (undeserving wretch though he was), and several items specifically for me. First was the dog bed Papyrus had promised me. Amazingly, there was one shaped like a racing car, which Papyrus took one look at and instantly started squealing over. Personally, I’d have preferred to keep sleeping on top of him, in his bed, but I couldn’t refuse the eager look on his skull, and so woofed my approval. His overjoyed smile was worth the disappointment I felt, at having to sleep on my own from now on.

Next, were some dog toys. Papyrus was particularly taken with a small ball decorated with flames, so I resolved to make that one my favourite. Gripping it firmly in my jaws, I could feel the bitter sting of losing my Orb of Pondering abate a fair bit. This ball may not have been a sacred magical artifact, but it was a precious gift from someone very dear to me, so that made it even more special! And it also had flames on it, which the Orb didn’t, so that was another plus. Papyrus also added a couple of squeaky bones to the cart, grumbling to himself that he hoped his dog would play with those , instead of stealing his own bone attacks. I eyed the rubber bones with disdain. Foul mutt could have those fake bones; I had my lovely new, flame-patterned ball!

The last item on our shopping list was a dog collar for me. I had a decent collection of amulets with various mystical enchantments on them, but had never worn any purely decorative necklaces before, so this would be a new experience for me. And looking up at the wide assortment of different collars on offer, with their diverse and eye-catching patterns, colours and styles, I felt my excitement building. Papyrus scrutinised each and every available collar very carefully, his brow furrowed and a hand on his mandible, as he hummed thoughtfully to himself. He briefly picked out a spiked collar, before he glanced at me, then shook his skull and put it back, muttering “TOO DANGEROUS” to himself.

Eventually, he settled on a leather collar in the exact same shade of red as his own scarf, with a shiny, gold buckle at the end. Holding it up to my neck, he grinned with satisfaction.

“THIS! IS! PERFECT!! SEE?! NOW WE MATCH!! NYEH HEH HEH!!”

Yay! High-pitched yips filled the air as I voiced my approval. I was more than happy to have my very own, signature red neckwear, and hoped that it would make me look as cool as Papyrus did. And then a thought suddenly occurred to me. Weren’t matching accessories something that... couples wore? And then another thought hit me. Hold on, Papyrus and I were outside, shopping for matching accessories, together , just the two of us... Was this a... date ?! I gasped, trembling with excitement. It must’ve been! Papyrus and I were on a date ! My very first date! Huzzah!!

“NYEH HEH HEH!! I’M SO GLAD YOU FEEL THE SAME WAY! I’M SO ENTHUSED BY YOUR ENTHUSIASM!!”

I was indeed feeling very enthusiastic at that moment, though perhaps not quite for the reason Papyrus believed. That didn’t stop me from literally jumping for joy, to the point that Papyrus had to grab me and hug me tightly to his ribs, to prevent me from falling out of the cart. It was difficult to contain my excitement at being on an actual date with Papyrus (this was a date, right? It had to be! What else could this be??), but the way he pet my head and rubbed my cheeks did help me to settle down, just enough that I stopped wiggling in his arms.

At least until Papyrus took out his phone, and started taking selfies of the two of us in our matching neckwear. I could hardly contain myself when he then went on to set the best-looking photo as his phone's new wallpaper background. As he smiled to himself in satisfaction, I wanted to cry tears of joy at the fact that this was a moment that Papyrus deemed important enough to want to commemorate and be constantly reminded of. It was a precious memory for me, as well, one that I would cherish forever.

Papyrus struggled a little to navigate the shopping cart while holding me in his arms, but despite that, he never showed any inclination to put me back down, which I felt pretty grateful for. I was also secretly pleased that he seemed to enjoy our cuddles just as much as I did.

It was after we’d (well, Papyrus had, technically) made our purchases, that we ran into two unexpected individuals. I recognised the human almost instantly, as her face had been plastered all over the various news channels and newspapers for over a year, following the sudden emergence of monsters from Mt. Ebott. Frisk, famed liberator of monsterkind, and their much-lauded ambassador, wore a pleasantly surprised expression on her pretty face, as she greeted Papyrus.

“Hi Pap, nice to see you today,” her voice was soft and delicate, filled with warm familiarity.

A flower with six, bright golden petals, had its long, thorny, vine-like stems wrapped around her upper arm. To my surprise, the flower had what was undeniably a face on its androecium. Said face looked bored and mildly annoyed, as it too greeted Papyrus.

“Howdy. Didn’t expect to run into you today,” his high-pitched, masculine voice was much less friendly than his companion’s, and had a sarcastic edge to it, as if he was used to mocking other people. Something about this flower made my hackles raise, and I couldn’t help feeling very wary of him. Papyrus, however, did not share my caution, as his expression brightened upon seeing the two of them.

“FRISK!! FLOWEY!! MY VERY COOL FRIENDS!! HOW WONDERFUL TO SEE YOU TWO!! TODAY IS A GREAT DAY! I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES!”

Frisk giggled, a fond smile on her lips, while Flowey (what an unimaginative name for a flower, what idiot came up with it?) rolled his eyes, though without malice, as I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Frisk’s face lit up when she caught sight of me, still held in Papyrus’s arms.

“Oh, what an adorable little pupper!” she cooed at me, and Papyrus proudly lifted me up into the air, as if showing me off to his friends.

“INDEED SHE IS! VERY ADORABLE!! SHE HELPED ME LOOK FOR MY DOG, WHEN HE WENT MISSING YESTERDAY. AND SINCE SHE DIDN’T HAVE A HOME OF HER OWN, SHE’S SHARING MINE. SHE’S ALREADY A MUCH BETTER HOUSEMATE THAN BOTH SANS AND THAT MISCHIEVOUS DOG! SHE’S VERY GREAT!! NYEH HEH HEH!!”

I barked happily, my tail wagging madly at his praise. Frisk’s smile softened as she gazed at us.

“That’s wonderful, Paps. I’m so happy for you.”

At her side, Flowey rolled his eyes again, this time more emphatically.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good for you. So what’s the little runt’s name, anyway?”

Papyrus didn’t seem put out by the flower’s rudeness in the slightest, as he answered with his usual enthusiasm.

“I HAVE NO IDEA! THE LITTLE LADY HASN’T TOLD ME YET.”

Flowey gave him an incredulous look.

“It’s a dog . It can’t talk, you idiot.”

It was Papyrus’s turn to shoot Flowey an incredulous look, though a much more polite one.

“OF COURSE SHE CAN TALK! YOU JUST HEARD HER A FEW SECONDS AGO!”

Flowey looked exasperated, while Frisk looked to be struggling not to laugh.

“That’s just barking! It’s not talking! It doesn’t mean anything!”

Flowey was waving his leaves in the air, the way one would wave their arms. Papyrus frowned at him in disapproval.

“JUST BECAUSE YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE’S SAYING, DOESN’T MEAN SHE’S NOT TALKING! OR THAT HER WORDS HAVE ANY LESS MEANING! ANYONE WHO HAS SOMETHING WORTH SAYING IS WORTH LISTENING TO!!”

Flowey let out a wordless yell of aggravation, before burying his face in Frisk’s shoulder, grumbling incoherently. Frisk tutted softly, lifting her other arm to run her fingers gently over Flowey’s petals, patting the back of his head in consolation.

It was only now occurring to me that the way Papyrus treated me was probably a little unusual. He treated me as if I was still human, and capable of fully understanding him, instead of as the simple dog I appeared to be. Now, I may be much closer to animals than I am to people, but that didn’t mean that I was ignorant of the fact that mundane animals weren’t sapient. I wasn’t that delusional. Midnight was special, being a witch’s familiar, but that didn’t mean that his intelligence was on the same level as a human’s or monster’s. At least, I didn’t think so. Admittedly, it was hard to tell with him...

Regardless, I wouldn’t have blamed Papyrus if he’d treated me as dismissively as Flowey did. By all rights, he should’ve, given my current form. But he didn’t. He chose to afford me the same level of respect, as he did every other person he met. Because he seemed to believe that I deserved it. I couldn’t say for sure whether that was because that’s just the kind of person Papyrus was, or because of some deeper meaning. Part of me hoped that it was because he could sense something more in me, that he felt that I was special. I very much wanted to be somebody special to him. Hopefully, someday I would be.

While I was having my mini epiphany, Frisk had stopped comforting Flowey, who had turned his head away to sulk quietly to himself, and had begun unravelling one of the ribbons she wore in her hair.

“You’re exactly right, Pap. She’s clearly a clever little doggy with many clever things to say,” I barked in agreement, and she smiled at me. “And such a smart pupper deserves a ribbon, to show everyone how smart she is.”

Frisk then reached out to me, to tie her ribbon around my collar into a cute bow. I tried to twist my head around to examine it properly, while the other woman stood back a little, to admire her handiwork.

“There we go. A dainty little bow, for a dainty little girl.”

I preened at the compliment, feeling very cute indeed. Papyrus squealed with delight, his eye sockets sparkling and a light blush staining his cheekbones.

“WOWIE!! YOU’RE RIGHT! PRETTY GIRLS DESERVE PRETTY BOWS!! OH, AND PRETTY FLOWERS TOO!”

Oooo, yes please! I barked excitedly. I loved flowers! The poisonous ones were especially colourful. And the ones which tried to eat you always had the most interesting magical properties. My garden was full of all kinds of flowers, all of which were incredibly useful for potion making. I’d never thought to put any in my clothes or my hair before, but the idea seemed like it would be fun. So long as I didn’t have any small creatures nesting under my hat, or inside my pockets, that is, I didn’t want them to get hurt.

I noticed that Frisk was giving me a considering look.

“Hey Pap? Now that you’ve got both a boy dog and a girl dog... Do you have any plans yet on getting either of them fixed?”

I froze. What. No . Fuck no. Absolutely. Not . Papyrus looked confused.

“FIXED? BUT THEY ARE NOT BROKEN??”

Frisk looked uncomfortable, as she bit her lip. Flowey, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered from his little sulk session, and was back to looking truly done with the world.

“She means, are you planning to stop your mutts from having puppies.”

My lips curled back in a sneer, as I bared my teeth at that disgusting idea. As if I would ever let that horrible thief of a dog so much as touch me! Papyrus seemed equally unconvinced of that possibility.

“I REALLY DO NOT THINK THAT WILL EVER HAPPEN. THE TWO OF THEM... WELL... THEY DON’T SEEM TO LIKE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH, DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS,” his voice had lowered slightly, which wasn’t saying much, but he was clearly a little embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, to admit to that he wasn’t able to get his own pets to get along with each other. “I HAVE ALREADY ACCEPTED THAT THEY PROBABLY WON’T EVER BE FRIENDS. SO, THEY DEFINITELY WON’T EVER GET MARRIED. OR HAVE FLUFFY BABYBONES.”

Never, ever, EVER! I insisted with every ounce of my being. Papyrus’s expression softened as he pet my head to soothe my angry growls.

“BUT THAT IS FINE! THAT TROUBLESOME DOG OF MINE HAS ALREADY FOUND A DATE MATE! MR. MIDNIGHT IS A VERY COOL CAT! AND HE AND MY DOG SEEM VERY HAPPY TOGETHER! SO WHILE THERE WON’T BE A DOG WEDDING! THERE MIGHT BE A CAT-AND-DOG WEDDING!! NYEH! HEH! HEH HEH!!”

Urgh... While I’m here, stuck as a chihuahua, my familiar is off canoodling and having his own little bromance with that stupid dog. Fair weather friend, indeed. .. I grumbled to myself. I was the one who was supposed to be looking for their true love. Not my cat! Life really was unfair sometimes. Papyrus interrupted my lamenting by massaging my ears.

“AND BESIDES... MY SWEET, LITTLE LADY HAS ME AS HER VERY COOL FRIEND!”

Frisk’s smile was full of warmth and affection.

“And you are worth a dozen, no, a hundred friends! I’m sure she feels so full with your friendship, that she doesn’t need anyone else.”

Papyrus looked troubled, despite the compliment.

“WHILE I AM VERY COOL! AND VERY GREAT! AND MY FRIENDSHIP POWER IS UNMATCHED! I DO WANT HER TO SPREAD HER FRIEND-ENERGY OUT MORE... I THINK SHE’LL HAVE A HEALTHIER LIFESTYLE THAT WAY. AND MAYBE THEN, SHE’LL REACH HER MAX POTENTIAL! AND BE THE VERY BEST SELF SHE CAN BE! NYEH!!”

Frisk gave him a sweet smile, nodding her head at his words. Even Flowey’s expression had softened just a little, and there was undeniable fondness in his eye roll.

“Too true, Pap, you’re right as always,” Frisk winked at him, then smiled down at me, causing my ears to instinctively perk up at the friendly look. “And I hope this adorable, tiny pup might come to consider me a friend, too. I’d love to be friends with such a little cutie.”

Her sweet tone made my tail wag, and her smile widened. Papyrus gazed between the two of us, with a thoughtful look on his skull. He then gave Frisk a pleading look.

“REALLY!? IF SO, THEN... I HAVE A FAVOUR TO ASK! ABOUT THIS ONE. YOU SEE, I HAVE TO GO TO WORK SOON. AND SANS HAS WORK TOO. AND AS I’VE MENTIONED, MY LITTLE LADY DOESN’T GET ALONG WELL WITH MY OTHER DOG. SO, I’D WORRY ABOUT HER IF I LEFT HER, ALL ON HER OWN IN THE HOUSE, WITH ONLY HIM FOR COMPANY. I’D REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD TAKE CARE OF HER FOR ME. JUST FOR THE AFTERNOON! JUST UNTIL I CAN COME PICK HER UP THIS EVENING! SHE’LL BE NO TROUBLE, I PROMISE! SHE’S A VERY GOOD GIRL!! SO PLEASE! PRETTY PLEASE!!”

Frisk was already nodding her head before Papyrus had even finished speaking.

“Oh, I’d love too! I wouldn’t mind at all. If Flowey doesn’t object, of course,” she looked imploringly at her flower companion, who made a show of huffing and groaning in displeasure, before finally grumbling “fiiiiine”, although he stared at me with curiosity from out of the corner of his eyes. Papyrus beamed at the two of them.

“NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!! THANK YOU!! SO MUCH!! I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON MY TWO VERY GREAT FRIENDS!! I FEEL MUCH BETTER, KNOWING YOU TWO WILL BE LOOKING AFTER MY GIRL! AND I HOPE! THAT YOU WILL ALL BE!! BEST FRIENDS!! NYEH!!”

He then gently handed me over to Frisk’s eager hands, who immediately cuddled me close, nuzzling her face into my fur. My nose twitched as the woman’s sweet, flowery scent invaded my sensitive nostrils. It was actually a very pleasant smell. And an oddly familiar one... But where had I...? And then it hit me. Sans! That’s where I knew this scent from! It was the strangely out-of-place scent I detected clinging to him. Those two must be pretty close, for her scent to linger on him like that... Hmmm ...

My internal musings were cut short when Papyrus pet my head. He was smiling down at me, though his expression was sad.

“I SHALL MISS YOU! I AM, IN FACT, MISSING YOU ALREADY! NYOO HOO HOO...”

He seemed reluctant to leave, as he began listing off instructions on how to care for dogs in general, and me in particular, including all of the things he’d noticed I enjoyed (most of which I hadn’t even realised myself! This guy must have been paying really close attention to me. How flattering~) but after several reassurances from Frisk, an exasperated scolding from Flowey, and some confident barks from me, he finally walked away, calling back to me as he disappeared from view.

“GOODBYE! BE GOOD! AND PLEASE! DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME WHILE I’M GONE!!"

And then he passed behind some cars and was gone. As if I could ever forget you , I shook my head at that ridiculous notion. Now that Papyrus was gone, Flowey was eyeing me with open curiosity. Frisk giggled at her friend’s behaviour, one eyebrow raised at him.

“Well then, guys, let’s be off. We’ve gotta get this adorable baby settled in. How do you two feel about pizza for lunch?”

Flowey and I both cheered at her suggestion and she smiled indulgently at us. And with one final look at where I’d last seen Papyrus, the three of us were off, to go have one of the most... interesting hang-outs I’d ever experienced.

______________________________________________

The final chapter might take a little longer, since it has to fit the rest of the story's events, and because I need to slow down a bit. I've been devoting most of my free time to writing this fic, and while I've been having a blast, it has been taking a bit of a toll on me. Not enough to dampen my enthusiasm for writing this, but enough that I should probably slow down, at least a little. I'll still get that last chapter out, I promise, hand on heart, but it might take a few extra days.

Also, the sweater Papyrus wears is this one, also seen here, in case you were curious. It's adorable and he's adorable in it <3

[jobrookekarev]

New Roommates

Chapter One of One

Words: 1107

Summary: Jo comes home to see that Levi has invited Helm to stay with them and reluctantly agrees.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Nico Kim/Levi Schmitt (Mentioned), Jo Wilson & Levi Schmitt (Friendship), Levi Schmitt & Taryn Helm (Friendship).

Characters: Jo Wilson, Levi Schmitt, and Taryn Helm.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Friendship, Fluff, Roommates, Pizza, Jo makes them all go to therapy, 

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

“You what?!” Jo whisper yelled at Levi.

She had gotten home 20 minutes prior, after a wonderful but exhausting first day as an OB resident. All she wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch TV, not accommodate a third roommate, and one she didn't even ask for. She had come home to see that Levi had violated their guest’s policy and invited Taryn over without telling her. Which she wasn't initially upset by until Levi had hopped off the couch and nervously explained that he had offered to let Helm stay with them for the foreseeable future. 

“I told Taryn that..”

“I don't need you to explain to me again,” Jo said, holding up her hand as she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Levi, this isn't a frat house! I bought this place so we, I could move out of the frat house, and you're turning it into a freaking frat house!”

“It's just temporary, just until she can get some help and she needs help, Jo, please,” Levi pleaded with her as he looked back at Taryn with a look of concern.

“Look, I get that you want to help her, but you can't just invite her to stay with us without consulting me. Last I checked, you don’t pay the mortgage on this place.”

“Well, technically, I pay you rent so...”

“Just shut up, my name is on the deed, so as far as I'm concerned, any and all roommate adjustments need to go through me first,” Jo said, jabbing her finger at him. “Besides, I thought you were going to move in with your boyfriend or something.”

“Things between Nico and I are, well,” Levi faltered over what to say as he looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know what exactly, I just need to think about it, but this isn't about Nico and I. This is about Taryn needing some help.” 

Jo crossed her arms and gave him a look as she chewed on her lip. She hoped that her glare will be enough for him to understand that he needed to do something about the situation he had gotten them into, but honestly, Levi was good at getting himself into trouble but not so good at getting himself out.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but until she can get some help, she needs our help, Jo,” Levi said, gesturing to where Helm was still sitting on the couch, watching a drama. 

Jo sighed as she looked over at Taryn. She had never seen her like this, so out of it, and she couldn't help but remember what it was like to be in a similar state like that during her own depressive episode. 

“Fine, but this is a temporary thing,” Jo said with a glare pointing her finger at him before she walked over to stand in front of the couch. She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, getting Taryn’s attention as she looked up at her. “Okay, starting off, there are a few ground rules. Number one, I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Okay, wait,” Levi started to protest, but she silenced him with another look. 

“Second, rent and utilities are due on the 1st. Third, everyone takes turns making dinner. I don't care if it's takeout or if you cook, it just has to be dinner food. If you eat something, you replace it unless it's from your cabinet. Apart from that, all the chores split the same between the three of us. Lastly, we are all going to go to therapy.”

“I don't think that's going to help,” Taryn said with a little sigh.

“Look, I thought the same thing about it when I first started therapy, but it really does help,” Jo said, looking over at Levi as he nodded before he caught her look and he finally processed what she said and started sputtering.

“Look, I don't really need therapy. I mean, I'm good, everything's good in my life, except for the pandemic, you know but, who isn't suffering. I mean, other than rich people, you know,” Levi said as he sputtered and waved his hands around.

“If anything, you need relationship therapy. Things with you and Nico are, and I don't know what, but it’s a mess, and you are not handling it well. We should all go to therapy, we clearly we all need it. I can recommend someone, so it doesn't have to be Carly, but at least someone,” Jo said, glaring at both of them to make her point.

“Fine,” Levi said, holding up his arms in defeat before they both looked down at Taryn.

“Okay,” she said before leaning back against the couch, still not looking at them. 

 Levi and Jo exchanged a look, it wasn't a lot, but at least it was something. Jo put a hand on her back and walked over to the couch before flopping down on the other end, leaving Levi to take the seat in between them.

“I guess we're all a little messed up,” Levi said, looking between the two of them. “But at least we're not alone.”

Jo smiled as Levi held out his hand. She held his hand and gave it a squeeze before he did the same with Taryn, connecting the three of them.

“It’s gonna get crowded in here real quick,” Jo said as she sighed before quickly curling up and pushing her feet against him. She pushed him over to take up more room on the couch as she flipped over to one of her shows. “Where am I supposed to put the crib now?”

“Where am I gonna sleep?” Taryn asked, looking around the small loft. 

“For tonight, you can take Schmitt’s bed, and then we’ll figure something out,” Jo said with a shrug as she looked around the loft.

“What if we get bunk beds!” Levi said, sitting up with a smile as he looked over at the little space where his bed was set up in the place where Alex’s weights used to be.

“I don't know,” Taryn said as she looked over at him with a weary look. 

The two of them just started discussing possible things as Levi began arguing about how he could make the bunk bed work while Taryn just listened, still not convinced. Jo just shook her head and figured that the two of them would figure it out, so long as they didn't steal her bed. They ordered pizza and watched TV for the rest of the night. Taryn didn't say a lot at first, just one word answers. Yet, she started to make little comments about the ridiculous drama. It wasn't a lot, but it was something, at least for now as the three of them all settled in.

[flowerslut]

Merry Christmas @tragicallywicked! And SURPRISE! I was your Jalice secret Santa! 🥰🎄🙈

Now, let me introduce to you the 15k+ idea that was born last night and that I vomited up and edited in roughly 24 hours. Trust me, it doesn’t read like it’s a hastily-scrapped together fic; I pinky promise. I’m very proud of this fic. Sorry about the whump though. It wasn't unintentional; honest.

Summary: He contemplates telling Peter about Alice’s visits, but something holds him back from doing it. Perhaps because it doesn’t feel like Alice whenever she’s lying on his bedroom floor, curled in an old blanket that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her, utterly still and silent even while awake. A part of him feels like it would be a betrayal to reveal this side of her to someone even as close to him as Peter is. After all, Peter is his friend. And Alice is… well, not.

Title: No Friend of Mine Words: 15,199 Rating: T Read on: AO3 // or under the cut

He’s not friends with Alice Brandon.

Not really. But in the time it’s taken for him to even properly learn her name—Alice, not Mary-Alice, he hears her cheerfully inform a group of girls making nasty comments one day; comments designed to hurt, and to be overheard—she has apparently decided that Jasper is her friend, and that’s where things become a little confusing.

Maybe she’s just a glutton for punishment. After all, if she wanted an easy time of it, there was an entire list of things she could do to avoid it. That sounded mean, but it was true.

She’s just a weird girl. Plenty of those in the world. No crime about that. About girls who dance in the hallways between classes, or who talk to strangers with the friendliness of someone who’s known them for years. There is nothing wrong with the fact that Alice Brandon wears her hair in bizarre styles or wears clothes that... alright, well maybe that is something that he doesn’t understand, either. Not that he is an expert on fashion, but even Jasper knows her choices are strange.

Alice Brandon being weird doesn’t affect him in the way that it apparently offends most of the students in their tiny school. He can picture her fitting in better at a larger school in a different school district, perhaps. More students always meant more variety, diversity, and cliques. More students would’ve meant that there would have been a whole slew of other weird kids of Alice’s type that she could have hung out with.

But not in Fork’s high.

Which meant the day Alice showed up at his corner of the cafeteria, tray in hand as she grinned over at him and Peter, he felt something in him twist as she sat down beside him, making a remark to Peter he couldn’t quite focus on as he realized that with an absence of overt weirdos at the school, Alice was going to come to the next-best thing. Their little group of ‘misfits’.

He had glanced further down the rectangular table and made quick eye contact with Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, who had also noted the tiny dark-haired girl’s presence, but neither of them made a comment, and Jasper spent the rest of the lunch period wishing she’d sat down next to those two, and not himself and Peter.

It wasn’t to be mean. Truly. But Jasper preferred to go through life (and school) as completely unnoticed as possible. And for the first few weeks Alice Brandon had attended Fork’s high, it seemed that’s all she did: attract attention. 

He’s not exactly friends with Alice Brandon.

After all, he knows so little about her. Only that she moved to Washington state about a couple months back with her family. That she’s a sophomore; a year behind both Peter and Jasper. And that she doesn’t need much encouragement, or participation really, when it comes to conversation. Alice can talk about anything and everything at length.

He knows, only because of the way she pronounces certain words, that she’s probably from the South. He knows, because his sister Rosalie has art with her, that she struggles a lot with simple tasks and often misunderstands requests from teachers. And he knows, because adults like to gossip when they don’t think teenagers are around, that the story as to why Alice’s family moved to that town is shrouded in some layer of secrecy.

Even when Bella, on one of the days Alice attempted to unite both ends of their lunch table in one cohesive conversation, had asked her a simple question about her ‘old school’ Alice had ignored the question entirely, before delving into an at-length explanation of the way she’d designed her favorite skirt.

Jasper had stood up and left lunch early that day. It wasn’t that he hated the girl, or even that he dislike her, but she bothered him so fiercely sometimes.

And they definitely weren’t friends.

So when she shows up unannounced at two o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday night, tossing tiny rocks up against his window, he doesn’t understand why.

He whispers down a series of questions at her, too shocked to understand what was going on.

What is she doing there? (She needs somewhere to stay for a few hours.)

Why? (Just because.)

How did she find his house? (School directory.)

Why did she come here? (It’s cold. Please.)

Later, he tells her she’s lucky his parent’s bedroom has windows that face the opposite direction of the house, meaning that they aren’t privy to their first conversation. But he shares a wall with Rosalie, he whispers to her as he leads her up the stairs, so she has to be quiet, he emphasizes the point with a look, as if doubting such a task is within her abilities. 

Thankfully, it is possible for Alice Brandon to be quiet. 

In fact, she doesn’t say anything that first night after he sneaks her up to his room and lets her curl up with an extra blanket on the floor beside his bed. Jasper isn’t even sure she’s slept; she’d been awake when he’d crawled back into bed, and then still awake when he’d awoken extra early the next morning. And when he explains that he can’t just drive her to school that day without getting in trouble—besides, Rosalie will have a fit (for more reason than one) if he emerges from his bedroom with Alice Brandon behind him—she only nods, asks for a drink of water, and thanks him as she sneaks out the front door, off back toward her house, he assumes.

Lunch that day is the same as any other. Alice’s bright smile greets him and Peter, her voice filling the space where comfortable silence and companionable conversation used to linger, and that’s when he starts paying attention.

To the fact that she rarely, if ever, eats anything. That her clothes, while layered strangely and often mis-matched, barely fit her small frame.

One day, a week after her first appearance at his house, Jasper is walking through the halls when he overhears Lauren Mallory loudly exclaim “God, do you know how to shut the fuck up?” Only to turn and watch Alice’s smile deflate.

He stops in his tracks at the sight because no ones comments have ever affected Alice like this. At least, as far as he’s seen. He even wonders if he should step in and say something, because Lauren isn’t finished with airing her frustrations at the tiny new girl, and each statement is growing more cruel than the last.

Before he can force his feet to move Bella Swan is already there, all stern words and deadly glances as she wraps an arm around the smaller girl and turns her away. Jasper can’t hear what she says but Lauren looks incensed and none of her friends are chiming in to help. And then Bella quickly whisks Alice away and Jasper realizes he’s still standing there, in the middle of the hallway, staring at their retreating forms.

He skips lunch that day, feeling like a coward for forcing shy, introverted Bella of all people to come to the harmless girl’s rescue, while he stood there, watching the scene alongside half a dozen others who happened to overhear the platinum blonde girl’s tirade.

Alice comes to him again that night, another handful of pebbles tossed to his window, but this time she doesn’t speak even when he does lean out his window to ask her questions.

What happened?

Is she alright?

Does she need a place to stay? 

She nods at that question, and it’s all the reply Jasper needs before he’s closing the window and tiptoeing down the stairs, guilt and worry dancing around inside his brain.

But Alice is quiet as a mouse as he leads her up into his room. She quickly occupies the same spot on the floor next to Jasper’s bed. Like before, she has brought only a small backpack with her. Whether she owns a phone or not doesn’t occur to him—he’s never seen her use one before, even at lunch—but she never once retrieves anything from the bag.

With the pillow and blanket Jasper tosses her way, she’s curled up and asleep in minutes. This time, it’s Jasper who doesn’t sleep as he lays awake, his attention torn between this small schoolmate of his and his guilty conscience that makes him wonder if today would have gone differently if he’d come to her aid.

But morning comes, Alice leaves, and then when he sees her at school later she’s good as new. Talking and laughing and dancing through the halls like always.

He contemplates telling Peter about Alice’s visits, but something holds him back from doing it. Perhaps because it doesn’t feel like Alice whenever she’s lying on his bedroom floor, curled in an old blanket that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her, utterly still and silent even while awake. A part of him feels like it would be a betrayal to reveal this side of her to someone even as close to him as Peter is.

After all, Peter is his friend. And Alice is… well, not.

It’s something he wishes he could tell Rosalie about. He loves his sister more than anyone else in this world but she’s too… involved in everything. He knows that she second she finds out it will mean the end of his privacy for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t help that he isn’t entirely sure that Rosalie won’t also say something rude to Alice. Nothing as cruel as Lauren Mallory’s blow-up, but still. Rosalie isn’t typically known for her warmth and consideration when it comes to outsiders…

It’s the night she shows up to his house for the third time, when things begin to change.

Her purple hoodie is pulled up tight over her head when he opens the window to get a good look at her. The material is certainly too thin for the weather she’s out in, but Jasper’s never seen her in anything warmer.

Alice tilts her head up toward him, and when his eyes fall upon her split lip, he doesn’t ask a single question. He almost slams the window shut and moves so fast down the stairs that he knows if he isn’t careful he’ll wake Rosalie and their parents.

She’s waiting on his doorstep when he finally swings the door open, ushering her into the house quickly and quietly.

The instant his bedroom door is closed he flicks his standing fan on it’s highest setting and pushes it close to the door. He’s going to need the white noise to drown out any noise their conversation makes. And he’s going to need her to talk tonight.

“Alice,” his voice is barely more than a whisper, but she ignores him. “Hey, Alice.” And when he ducks down to look her in her eyes, she averts her gaze. “What happened?” His head is swimming with thoughts and ideas and worst-case-scenarios, and as he looks at her face—the split lip, her bleeding cheek, and her swollen eye—he feels worry and fury at war within himself.

These are no ‘accidental’ injuries. Jasper knows with a sinking feeling that running into a doorframe, or tripping on the stairs, didn’t cause this injury.

(His mind is filled with images of the night Rose came home looking similar, and the rage that ignites in his body is hard to reason with.)

“Who did this?” Jasper’s words are slow and careful, but they are not quiet and he doesn’t know if he can be anymore. But Alice doesn’t reply, instead looking anywhere but him, as if she’s embarrassed or ashamed of herself.

But she came here, a voice in his head reminds him. And he doesn’t know if she’s aware of the weight of that—of this trust she apparently has in him—but he is.

He asks her to sit on his bed and then sneaks off to the bathroom in the hall, and then while Alice cleans blood off of her face with a damp rag he tiptoes downstairs to grab an ice pack from the freezer. When he returns she’s already pulled the spare blanket tight around her shoulders, and is lying on the ground.

“Alice,” he says softly, his chest aching at the sight of her, curled up so small on the ground, hurt and quiet. “Get up, I’ve got ice for your face.”

But Alice doesn’t movie, so he’s forced on the ground beside her. It’s when he places a tentative on her shoulder that he realizes she’s shaking with silent sobs. She only curls up tighter at his touch, and Jasper withdraws his hands immediately. He has the thought that maybe he should wake Rosalie, and let her come help. Surely, and despite all of his sister’s prickliness, Rose is better suited for a task like this. Jasper has never been good at comforting people with his words.

“Alice,” he doesn’t know what to say, and has less of an idea of what to do. But eventually she rolls over to face him and reaches out for the ice pack wordlessly. He hands it over and watches, speechless, as she simply presses the ice to her cheek, still not looking up at him.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asks, feeling as if he already knows the answer, and when she shakes her head and closes her eyes tighter, the pain in Jasper’s chest throbs. “Okay,” he says, because no matter how badly he wants to know, he knows that her showing up here is significant. That there is trust here, despite the fact that Jasper hardly understands why. But it’s trust that seems so fragile that he’s terrified of shattering it if he pushes too hard.

By five o’clock she’s up and moving, and Jasper—who hadn’t slept a wink, instead choosing to lie awake and watch Alice, to make sure she was still breathing as she slept—is requesting that she stay. He offers to play hooky and encourages her to do the same.

She contemplates the offer before nodding to herself. But she leaves anyways, accepting a new ice pack on the way out of the door. She’s gone seconds before his dad is padding through the kitchen, ready to turn on the coffee maker, and Jasper’s heart is palpitating because he doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re up awfully early,” the man grumbles as Jasper wanders into the kitchen. Joseph Hale is a quiet man. A good father, despite how rarely he’s at home due to work. They aren’t alike in many ways other than disposition, but Jasper always enjoys when his father is around. During his absences, his mother often disappears for days at a time, only appearing to change clothes, or argue with Rosalie. With Joseph around Jasper can almost pretend they are a normal, happy family.

His father’s words rip him out of his reverie. “By god… what happened to you?”

Jasper blinks up at his dad before realizing he’s holding the bloody rag Alice used to clean up her face. He blanches at the sight, forgetting he’d even been holding it, and then just shrugs. “Woke up with a nosebleed.”

Joseph shakes his head, frowning as he gestures to the towel. “Your mom’s going to have a fit that you used one of her good towels.”

“I’ll clean it before school.”

Joseph hums, already moving on from this conversation to dig through the cabinets for a bowl for his breakfast. “There should be peroxide under the sink.”

Jasper spends twenty minutes dousing the hand towel with hydrogen peroxide in an attempt to clean Alice’s blood out of the fabric. And by the time the stain is just a faded brown against the cream-colored towel, he can hear Rosalie’s alarm going off.

The drive to school that morning is tense, and the hours leading up to lunch pass by in a blur. Jasper’s mind isn’t focusing on anything, and when Mrs. Chapel calls on him in math class he realizes he hasn’t even pulled his textbook from his backpack.

When lunch rolls around it’s clear to him, as he walks into the cafeteria with a mixture of relief and disappointment, that Alice isn’t there today. He isn’t the only one who has noticed her absence, and as he’s passing through the cafeteria he hears one of Lauren Mallory’s friends make a loud remark.

“Looks like the clown got stuck back at the circus today,” Carson Keys declares loudly enough for Jasper to hear him, three tables away. He turns to look at the dark-haired jackass, knowing that these are the comments they usually reserve for Alice’s eavesdropping ears. But Alice isn’t here today, and Jasper knows why.

And Jasper also knows that there’s a reason he’s never been the victim of any bullying at this school. Despite his misanthropic nature, he isn’t a very easy target. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the taller ones in the school, or maybe its the rumor that circulated last year when he was a sophomore, that he’d killed a senior for messing around with his sister.

But despite the very thorough beating he’d been given, Royce King was still very much alive, despite his swift disappearance from both the school district and social media. The King family had wanted to quiet the ‘incident’ as quickly as they could and had quietly moved somewhere East of Seattle.

The days spent in juvenile court and subsequent six months of house arrest had been worth it, in Jasper’s eyes.

It doesn’t bother Jasper one bit that many of the students are convinced Jasper has killed someone. Anything that keeps people away from him, and prevents others from harming Rose any further, is worth it in his eyes.

Jasper watches as Carson’s joke causes their table to erupt in giggles and head-shakes. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to the table, a twinge of fury forcing his feet forward.

He goes unnoticed until he picks up one of their textbooks and drops it from shoulder-level. The noise makes a sharp clap that causes the surrounding table to flinch and turn towards the source. Silence seizes most of his classmates as their eyes turn to bore into his form, and Jasper is almost thankful for this awful, unwanted attention. Their unease will certainly make this more effective.

Carson realizes it’s Jasper Hale standing beside him a few seconds after his friends are quiet and staring, and the grin slips off his face so fast it’s almost comical. “Hey Hale,” he says stupidly, and Jasper can almost feel the regret filling the air. “What’s up?”

Jasper doesn’t speak at first, and for a second he wonders if maybe he does have some sort of anger issue like his lawyer suggested, because watching Carson squirm in his seat while his other tough-talking friends are suddenly suspiciously quiet is very, very enjoyable.

He doesn’t issue any threatening quips or waste time with a joke of his own. No, instead Jasper leans in close, forcing Carson to back up a few inches, his eyes wide. “Say it again. Go on.”

Carson of course, doesn’t. Instead looking to his friends for help. It’s Whitney Barnes who chimes in first.

“It’s just a joke,” she says nastily, rolling her eyes at Jasper’s presence as she moves her attention to her phone, lying on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

Whitney’s dismissal of Jasper’s actions seems to encourage Carson again. He pulls a grin back on his face, “We mean no harm, bro. Mary-Alice is a fun little thing.” He looks back to Jasper but something in his expression makes his smile fall again. “No harm, man,” he’s backpedaling again, lifting his hands up in front of him, as if to claim he doesn’t want any trouble.

It’s only Rosalie’s appearance at his side that keeps him from doing anything he regrets.

He can tell its her immediately by the way she grips the side of his shirt, bunching up the material in his fist and tugging twice. (Something she has done for as long as he can remember.) “C’mon,” her voice is quiet but annoyed. “Old man Bakers is watching.” She speaks, referring to the assistant principal that roams the halls during the student’s ‘free’ periods.

Carson’s face brightens at the appearance of his sister, but before he can open his mouth to say anything mindless, she chimes in. “I don’t want to hear it. Just keep your mouth shut.”

“But I—”

“No. Stop. I have a test next and I’m losing braincells. Shut up.” Rosalie is already walking away, Jasper’s shirt still gripped tightly as she leads him back the way he came. “You too, Miss Perpetual-Understudy.” Rosalie calls over her shoulder to Whitney, hitting the girl where it hurts. Always a very Rosalie thing to do; to say as little as possible while inflicting the most damage she can.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stop it,” she grits through her teeth once they’re out of earshot. “If you start a fight at school they’ll slap that ankle monitor back on you before Carson’s dumb face will hit the linoleum.”

It’s an amusing thing to imagine, but he doesn’t want to irritate Rosalie any further, so he just shrugs noncommittally.

“What’s that all about anyways?” She demands as she drags him to her table. It’s still mostly-empty, thankfully. Only Emmett is there yet, and a couple other members of the football team that are nice enough. He likes Emmett for the most part. Most of the guys in school had been afraid of Jasper, and too terrified to get anywhere near Rosalie after last year’s incident. Emmett, on the other hand, had cornered Jasper the day he’d been allowed back at school and thanked him for doing what he didn’t get the chance to.

Jasper tries not to have to many opinions on his sister’s dating life now, but some days he thinks that Emmett wouldn’t be the worst choice if Rosalie decides to reciprocate the big guy’s obvious feelings.

“Nothing,” he speaks quietly as Rose sits in her seat. He knows that she wants him to sit with her and fill her in, but Jasper has never been comfortable around her friends. And he isn’t about to entertain their companionship on today of all days; he’s far too wound up.

“I heard Carson say something rude about that Alice girl,” the boy next to Emmett, whose name Jasper doesn’t know, chimes in. “Loud as shit, of course. But I didn’t hear much else,” he looks up at Jasper and shrugs. “You gotta do what you gotta do man. I would fully support your decision if you clocked him. Morally support, I mean. I can’t physically or I’ll lose my scholarship to UW.”

“No one is getting ‘clocked’,” Rosalie shoots the guy a glare before turning to Jasper and tugging on his shirt again. “Also, if you tried intimidating every person who’s been mean to Alice you’re going to have a long list.” She tugs on his shirt a third time, “sit.”

As Jasper settles into the seat beside his sister, absolutely dreading the next half hour, Emmett chimes in. “She’s a funny girl,” the curly-haired guys speaks, taking an enormous bite of his sandwich, “she told me she’d make me a bracelet the other day because I told her I liked her hair.” The boy next to him snorts and Emmett laughs, “What?” He speaks, mouth full, “like I’m going to say no to a free bracelet?! You’re out of your damn mind.”

“She’s friendly alright,” Rose speaks, turning her gaze back to Jasper. “Don’t know why she likes your prickly ass.”

“I’m not prickly,” Jasper deadpans, accepting the bag of chips Rose shoves into his hands.

Emmett laughs at that one. “Because you’re so warm and cuddly.”

“Em, hush.”

“I’m just playing around. But seriously. I like her. She’s fun.” He takes a sip of soda and fixes Jasper with another look. “Besides, I don’t think she has an easy time of it. My little sister is in her sister Cynthia’s class down at the grade school,” Jasper’s attention perks up at that. Alice has a sister? “According to Jennie, some accident that killed their mom messed Alice’s head up. I think it was a car accident. I’m not sure. It’s really sad though.”

A few members of the table nod at that, a morose feeling falling over them as more of Rosalie’s friends arrive, and then when Daniel Langfield starts telling the story of his uncle’s life-claiming car wreck, Jasper feels his mind wander.

He supposes that’s the day he halfway ‘befriends’ Alice Brandon.

Of course it would be the day she’s not even at school.

If anything he feels less like a friend and more like a protector. Or a guard dog. Like someone willing to do what it takes to keep people off her fucking back, and out of her goddamned business.

Later that night, before he climbs into bed, he rips a piece of notebook paper out of his binder and scribbles a small message on it.

I’m here if you want to talk about it.

He doesn’t see her the following morning, but he slips the note into her locker anyways. It isn’t until he’s walking to his first period class when he realizes he never signed the paper, and up until lunch he kicks himself, feeling much like a weirdo or a creep for delivering such a cryptic, out-of-context note.

But Alice is already waiting for him by the doors of the cafeteria when he finally sees her for the first time that day. She grins up at him, like she always does at school, big and wide, and Jasper is nearly stunned by the fact that she looks completely fine.

Whatever makeup she’s painted her face with that day has made her look entirely normal. But when she chatters at him, walking at his side as they wander across the cafeteria, he notices that her left eye is still a bit swollen, and blinks a bit slower than her right. Her expertly applied lipstick has nearly hidden her fat lip completely. 

Peter isn’t there that day. He’d had a dentist appointment and left during the last period, so it’s only them today. 

He knows that no one is listening in; if anything, the students of Forks’ High have begun practicing the art of tuning out Alice Brandon’s voice, but he still keeps his voice low when he asks her how she is.

“I’m fine,” she smiles up at him, before she opens her sketchbook and asks him for his input on her current art project.

“Did you get my note?”

She pauses then, smiling down at the still-life on the paper in front of her. Then, she reaches out and grabs the top of his hand, squeezing tightly before releasing it. She doesn’t so much as glance at him while she does this, and in seconds she’s already back to discussing her day.

Jasper knows that he isn’t going to get anything out of her today, and instead he pays attention to her every movement, and every quirk, watching her closely as she explains her current portrait and pulls out colored pencils, slowly working while she prattles on about some anecdote from gym class.

And with each day that passes he finds himself more curious about her. She doesn’t reveal anything during the school day, instead using their lunch period to talk and hum and laugh. He sits at her side, forgoing his music or books to simply watch and listen to her. But as the days pass, her face heals, and Alice reveals nothing.

He knows its only a matter of time before she shows up in his yard at night.

But the next time it happens, he has some warning.

Alice isn’t in school for four days. He hasn’t heard anything from the other students, and why would he? He’s the one she spends most of her time around anyways. If anything, the other students probably assume he knows whether she’s sick or not. By Thursday, even Peter asks him if he knows where she is. Jasper hates how he feels when he wordlessly shakes his head, anxiously picking the bread off the burger in front of him.

It’s Friday when Bella Swan approaches him in the parking lot while he waits for Rosalie. She startles him at first; he’d been sitting in his car listening to music when she tapped on the window. And when he turns the music down and lowers the window, she swiftly apologizes. He just barely takes note of Edward standing a few feet away.

“You haven’t heard from Alice, have you?”

Jasper shakes his head. “No.” He says simply, and then, “I don’t have her number.”

Bella frowns. “She doesn’t have a phone,” she explains, “I’m just…” she straightens back up, folding her arms and she turns back toward Edward. The redhead nods and Bella turns back toward Jasper. “I’m really, really worried.”

“Why?” Jasper shuts the car off then. Something in Bella’s expression causes alarms to go off in his mind, and he’s climbing back out of the old sedan before he can help it. “What makes you say that?”

Bella looks back at Edward again, and the redhead sighs and approaches. “You didn’t hear this from me,” he speaks quietly, looking around to make sure no one overhears. “My dad asked me last night whether I was friends with Alice. And I didn’t even know that he knew who that was. I…” he looked a bit embarrassed then, “I sort of weaseled a little bit of information out of him. But I think something happened to her that put her in the hospital. My dad didn’t say much but, you know how adults get when they want you to befriend someone else or ‘keep an eye’ on them or whatever? It was really weird and… kind of telling.”

“Do you know anything?” Bella asks, and her voice is so pleading, her face filled with so much worry that eventually he starts talking. He tells them about her first visit, and then about her second. And he’s rambling by the time he gets to her third, and most recent visit. It isn’t until he’s talking about her bloodied face and the fact that she cried as quietly as she could, curled up on the floor of his bedroom, when a voice chimes in.

“So that’s where Mom’s good towel went.”

His blood freezes in his veins when he realizes that Rosalie has snuck up behind them, unnoticed. Emmett McCarty is standing behind her, looking nervous at the fact that they have just overheard Jasper’s hurried confession.

Bella looks nervous at their intrusion, and Edward’s face is stern. Rosalie is glaring daggers at her brother, and it’s Emmett that chimes in eventually.

“What can we do?”

When their eyes all drift to Jasper, he feels as if his chest is about to cave in on itself. He doesn’t know how to tell them that he doesn’t know what to do. “Bella says she doesn’t have a phone.”

“Can’t we pull up to her house? Check on her at least?” The concern scrawled across Emmett’s features make him look far less menacing than he usually comes off as—he’s the only one in the Junior class taller than Jasper. 

“That’s the last thing we should do,” Rosalie snaps, her words quiet. “The second you try to white-knight your way into whatever situation she’s dealing with, you’ll immediately make it ten times worse for her.” Rose speaks her words with the confidence of someone who truly knows what Alice’s situation is like, and it shuts everyone else up immediately.

There’s silence, then, Edward speaks. “We still don’t know what she’s dealing with. Let’s not assume.”

Rosalie glares at him then. “If your dad was dealing with her at the fucking emergency room, it wasn’t just a check up or a misunderstanding. Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’ll talk to Jennie when I get home,” Emmett offers, referring to his little sister who is classmates with Alice’s sister. “See if Cynthia has said anything at school.”

Bella nods, “Kids see and hear a lot more than people give them credit for.”

Rosalie speaks only to Jasper. “If she comes to you again, that’s a good thing. I can help cover your ass if you need it, but if you push her too much you will drive her away. Whatever you do, don’t go getting yourself arrested again, or I’ll beat you to a pulp.” Then, to everyone else, “If you really want to help her, give her space and mind your business. She’ll either come around, or she won’t. You can’t force it.” She climbs into the passenger seat, “Let’s go, Jasper.”

The drive home is quiet, and painfully awkward. Jasper keeps waiting for Rosalie to snap at him, or for her attitude to catch up, but when she reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt, holding it in her hand, he understands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough,” she speaks as he turns into their neighborhood, approaching the house. “I wish I had asked for help before it was too late. But,” there’s another patch of silence as he parks in the driveway before she speaks again, “Alice is trusting you with whatever is happening. Don’t take that for granted, and don’t fuck it up. She’ll decide what you can do to help her at her own pace.” Opening the door to the car she stands up as she gathers her things. “Don’t go trying to fuck your life up again. Please.” Then, she slams it and walks toward the house.

Alice doesn’t visit that night, but on Saturday night he’s restless. He picks up his phone and re-reads that day’s text messages. He’s comforted knowing that he isn’t the only person who has been plagued with worry over Alice that day. Bella confesses that she name dropped Alice in conversation with her father—the chief of police—who also pulled something akin to Edward’s dad, requesting his daughter to be nice to the girl and perhaps invite her over sometime.

It is confirmation enough that whatever is happening to Alice was known by both hospital workers and police. This information is enough for Jasper’s concern to turn into something far more nauseating. He’s not even comforted by the involvement of people outside of Alice’s situation, because if what was happening to her was severe enough for the police chief and Doctor Carlisle Cullen to be involved, it wasn’t good.

He’s up late, re-reading Emmett’s most recent texts, explaining that Jennie didn’t see Cynthia on Thursday or Friday, when the first rock knocks against his window.

He doesn’t even rush over to it, instead flinging his bedroom door open and zooming down the stairs as quick as possible—he’s never been so happy for his father to be on a work trip and for his mother to be off and absent once more than he is when he barges through the front door and runs to the side of the house.

The sight of Alice standing beneath his window, preparing to fling another pebble, her face wincing in pain, is both a relief as well as a worry.

She jumps at his sudden appearance, stumbling back as fear flickers across her face. It only takes her a second to realize who is rushing toward her, but by the time recognition calms her, Jasper has already slowed himself.

She’s wearing her purple hoodie again, and her face is black and blue. She reaches up to pull her hood tighter around her face and that’s when Jasper takes note of the pink cast encasing her forearm.

“Alice,” he breathes, approaching slower as he reaches out to her. Thankfully she doesn’t recoil from him and instead walks directly toward him. When she wraps her arms around him, Jasper doesn’t hesitate to hold her close. With her embrace he feels all the tension slowly seep out of him, and it’s when he feels her shivering that he steps back, keeping an arm over her shoulders as he guides her toward the house.

She’s as quiet as she typically is during all of her visits, so Jasper decides to fill the silence instead.

He talks at her mostly, prompting input here and there, but Alice is content to sit quietly on his bed as he rifles through his closet. He eventually finds a winter coat that stopped fitting him before high school and tosses it on the bed beside her. He tells her that it belongs to her now and that he wants to see her wearing it next time she decides to make the trek to his house at night.

He asks her how far she lives, and even when she doesn’t reply he informs her that he has a car, and can pick her up at a moment’s notice if she ever needs him to. He also asks about her phone situation, knowing that she doesn’t have access to a cell phone, but that if she has access to a computer, his phone dings when he gets an email. He can put her email in his contacts so that it rings loudly any time she sends a message his way.

He offers her food, and even when she doesn’t accept (or decline) he disappears for a few minutes, returning with some reheated pizza and a couple of glasses of water.

She accepts the water with a smile, and seeing the light in her eyes, despite how battered her face looks, does something strange to Jasper’s chest.

It’s when he asks her if she’s tired that she finally gives him a response, shaking her head.

“In that case,” he walks over to his desk, unplugging his laptop and carrying it over to the bed, depositing it in front of her. “We can watch a movie.”

He sneaks back into the hallway, and is rifling through the hall closet, retrieving extra pillows and blankets, when Rosalie’s door opens and he freezes, turning toward her with a look akin to a deer caught in headlights.

“Here,” his sister whispers as she tosses something his way, “she can keep these.” Before they can fall to the ground Jasper plucks the cotton pajamas out of the air, nodding toward his sister. With her voice low she then tacks on a threat, “and don’t eat all the pizza. I was saving some for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at her as she closes the door softly behind her, trying to decide whether its best to lie to Alice about the blue pajamas or to just tell them they’re a gift from Rosalie.

In reality, he doesn’t need to say anything, because when he presents them to her she smiles up at him, softly thanking him before placing them on the bed beside her.

“I’m serious,” he remarks as he turns the laptop toward him, opening and starting it up. “They’re all yours. They were Rose’s in like, freshman year before she got her growth spurt.”

“I doubt they’ll fit,” Alice’s voice finally rings out clear, and Jasper counts that as a win.

Jasper smirks over at her as he logs into Peter’s Netflix account. “Trust me, I wasn’t the only one who grew nearly half a foot freshman year. The money we spent on clothes that year was a little excessive.”

Alice excuses herself to the hallway bathroom a minute after that, and when she returns, dressed more comfortably now, Jasper smiles. “My uh, parents aren’t home by the way, so you can stay as long as you need.”

She doesn’t reply, but she does climb back into his bed, and when she wraps the old blue blanket around her shoulders—a blanket that Jasper is beginning to view as hers—she scoots herself into the corner of his bed, resting her back against his headboard and pillows.

Jasper is careful to keep his distance as he settles himself beside her, but Alice is quick to scoot closer, and when he asks if she has any suggestions or requests, she simply shakes her head, smiling at the screen, her chin resting atop her knees.

She is asleep twenty minutes into the movie, her head knocking against his shoulder as her exhaustion wins out. Jasper remains still for a while after that, barely paying any attention to the random animated movie, afraid of waking the girl up. Eventually he moves her carefully so that she’s lying down more comfortably. Closing the laptop he moves to place it back on his desk when her hand shoots out, gripping his arm tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he speaks quietly, his heart breaking at the flash of desperation—of fear—in her suddenly-open eyes, depositing the laptop on the ground and climbing back into his bed. It feels strange, to lie down beside this girl that he knows hardly anything about, but when she wraps her good hand around his, Jasper turns toward her, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers, returning the gesture. She is asleep again within minutes.

Multiple times he attempts to remove himself from his own bed. After all, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be staring at this girl as she sleeps, entirely unguarded, her face swollen from what could only be a beating, and for a while he lies there, frozen in both anger and helplessness.

Because Alice is good. A sweet girl with nothing but a smile to offer and friendship to give.

When he wakes up late the following morning, he doesn’t know why he feels sour at her absence. Deep down he knew she wouldn’t be still lying beside him, but in some far off part of his mind, he’d hoped for it.

It’s when he’s sitting up in bed, orienting himself with his surroundings when he hears familiar laughter echoing from Rosalie’s room.

He’s up and in the hallway in seconds.

Rosalie’s door is propped open, and inside of her bedroom there are people. It seems during the few extra hours Jasper stayed unconscious, his sister had invited over company.

Emmett is sitting completely still in the chair of Rosalie’s vanity, far too big for the tiny white furniture, and looking ridiculous as Rosalie leans forward, carefully applying makeup to his large face. Bella Swan stands at her side, holding Rosalie’s iPad in one hand, displaying a picture of whatever look his sister is trying to achieve on the face of Fork’s High’s star linebacker, and in her other hand are a slew of makeup brushes.

Edward is standing closest to the door, recording the entire debacle on his phone while Alice, who is lying across Rosalie’s bed, still clad in her blue pajamas is laughing and laughing and laughing.

It’s such a strange group of people, he realizes abruptly. Jasper is only acquainted with Bella and Edward through the far-off lunch table they all share, since it’s the only corner of the cafeteria that offers an escape from the rowdiness of their classmates. Emmett, of course, he knows through Rosalie, and has always been a friendly, funny guy, but Rosalie has always been careful about who she lets into her social circles. Especially now.

And last Jasper knew his sister couldn’t stand the pretentious red-head in the grade behind them. But if Jasper knows anything, it’s to never underestimate Rosalie Lillian Hale, and quickly he realizes that in the time between her handing off pajamas to him last night, and this morning, she’s carefully calculated this entire thing. From the guests to the activity.

Because the only thing everyone in this room has in common, is Alice.

When she notices him, she sits up, grinning widely at him. The yellowing bruises on her face stick out sorely against her skin that is pink and flushed from laughter, but when she beckons him inside of the room, drawing everyone’s attention from Emmett’s face to Jasper’s presence, he can’t help but smile back.

He carefully turns down the invitation to be ‘next’, and when Rosalie remarks that there are plenty of photos in tucked away albums of their older cousins putting Jasper in makeup and dresses when they were small, the entire room of teenagers look delighted at that information.

“Oh, please tell me you have that album handy,” Alice exclaims, gripping his hand fiercely as she bounces on Rosalie’s bed.

“Hell no.”

“I’ll show you some other time,” Rosalie comments dismissively as she holds Emmett’s jaw tight in her hand. “Now, do we want to go more pink or orange-ish…?”

And that’s how their Sunday begins.

Eventually they make their way from Rosalie’s room into the living room and then soon they’re piling into Jasper’s and Emmett’s cars, after Bella’s stomach had rumbled and Emmett declared that it was time for food. Of course, he took every ounce of makeup off before they left, and Alice changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in the night before.

The day passes so quickly and it’s so fun that Jasper hardly realizes how much he’s enjoying himself until the sun is nearly down and they’re hanging out in the parking lot of the bowling alley they just played in. But Bella has a late shift at Newton’s and Emmett needs to take them back to his car, which is at Rosalie and Jasper’s house. Then Rose declares that she has a paper to finish tonight and suddenly the day is spiraling to a close.

“I’ll see you at home,” she nods at him as she climbs into the passenger seat of Emmett’s Jeep. He simply nods, waving at them as they pull away. 

And then it’s just him and Alice left.

He turns toward her after Emmett’s car disappears into the night, only to see her staring after the Jeep, a deep-set frown in her face.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, because he knows it has to be her decision now.

She steps up next to him and grabs his hand tightly, and that’s when Jasper feels her shaking again. He knows it’s not because of the cold; she’s finally wearing the jacket he’d given her the night before. But she’s shaking now and he doesn’t know what to do other than pull her against his side and hold her close.

“We can go back to my house,” he offers firmly, but quietly, as she nestles closely against him, her face pressed into his own coat. “You can stay as long as you want. I mean it.”

She shakes her head after a long moment. “I have to go home.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

She doesn’t answer his question.

Turn by turn directions are all she has to provide for him; she’s still so new to the town that even despite how small it is she only knows her way around when they’re close to the school. So he loops back toward Fork’s High and then Alice begins directing him from there.

They’re only a few streets away—surprisingly close to his house—when she grabs his hand suddenly. “Stop the car.”

Jasper slows the car down to a crawl, pulling it over to the side of the road. He doesn’t see anything that would cause her to erupt in fear like that; they’re still several yards from the next turn, bringing them toward where Alice said her house was.

“Here is fine,” she says in a hurry, unbuckling herself swiftly. When she starts to remove his jacket he reaches out and grabs her arm.

“Alice, that’s for you. Keep it, please.”

“I can’t,” she says desperately as she shimmies her arms out of the sleeves. It takes her a while to yank her left arm, cast and all, out of the jacket, but when she pushes it unceremoniously into his arms, he’s so confused. “Please, understand.”

“I don’t,” he says honestly, a little hurt by her actions, “that’s… that’s fine. Just—” he frowns, “how do you usually get to school? The bus?”

She shakes her head as she lifts her small bag up and throws it over her shoulder. “I walk. It’s fine, I’ll see you in school this week.”

He reaches out again, careful not to grab her broken wrist, and his hand lands softly on her shoulder. “Not tomorrow?”

Alice is anxious now, her eyes looking for something out in the dark, and Jasper hates this. Hates that she comes to him at night but doesn’t let him help. Hates that she does so much talking, but doesn’t reveal anything. Hates that he can’t fix whatever is wrong.

“I’m worried about you,” he eventually says when she flings the door open and moves to depart.

The look she fixes him with then is stern, and Jasper worries that he’s said something wrong.

Alice leans back into the car, and with her good hand she reaches toward him, cupping his cheek warmly, and stunning him into silence. He’s frozen for a few seconds, watching her every move cautiously, and when she smiles up at him, soft and beautiful, any other words he was thinking are suddenly wiped clear.

“Don’t.” And she’s gone in seconds, running off into the dark faster than he can keep up with his eyes.

He doesn’t go directly home afterward. Instead he drives around for a little while. Alice wouldn’t give him her address, and he’s almost nervous to accidentally stumble across her house now, so he steers clear of the residential streets. He’s halfway to La Push when he realizes he needs to go back home, because Rose will be waiting for him.

Rose and Emmett are waiting for him when he returns. It’s something that sort of surprises him, because as far as he knows, his sister has sworn off dating. Not that the two appear to be an item. But again: it’s not a secret that Emmett McCarty loves his sister.

When he walks through the door they’re in the kitchen, and their conversation dies when they note his presence.

“How’d it go?” Emmett asks, frowning from where he sits at the kitchen table across from Rosalie.

Jasper shrugs, turning to walk toward the stairs.

“Jasper,” his sister calls, standing up from the table. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he finally speaks. And it’s true. Nothing happened. No progress in their ‘friendship’. No discoveries on his part. Instead the status quo remains very much unchanged. He still doesn’t know how to help Alice, and she is still unwilling to let him in. 

It’s when Rosalie takes note of the small jacket under Jasper’s arm when she finally closes her mouth and nods, turning back to sit back at the table, looking strangely defeated.

He doesn’t sleep well that night, or the next.

The rumors start circulating quickly then. It seems that some senior was at the bowling alley with their parents on the same day they’d taken Alice out on her outing. Word quickly got around that the tiny girl looked like she’d been in a boxing match, bruised and broken and still missing from school.

The worst of the rumors made their way back to him through Edward. Some group of kids in the freshman class were apparently under the impression that her absence and physical state were due to Jasper’s actions. Of course, it is a widely-known fact now that Jasper has a ‘reputation for violence’; whether it’s misplaced or not isn’t for Jasper to decide. But that rumor makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It becomes so bad that, with his dad still away on work and his mom god-knows-where, Jasper stays home from school on Thursday. Rosalie doesn’t even attempt to rouse him out of bed, just accepting his keys and telling him she’ll see him after school.

It’s around noon that he forces himself out of his bedroom. He doesn’t have an appetite so he simply shrugs on his coat, pulls on his boots, and goes for a walk.

He wanders through the neighborhood for a while, down one street, up another, until he finds himself wandering through Tillicum Park. He used to come here more often when he was younger. It was the one place his parents would let him and Rosalie wander off to on their own. And then when he was in middle school a man in a van had pulled up beside some of his classmates and he and Rose had been forbidden from walking there alone after that.

It has been several years since he’s sat on the swings here. And as he wanders toward where he knows the play equipment is, he finds himself freezing in his tracks.

Because there is a little girl sitting by herself on the swings.

He looks around then, but it’s barely one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, and this girl can’t be any older than seven or eight. He contemplates moving on with his walk—after all, it was barely a decade ago when his mother would shoo him and Rose out the door and off to the park—but something forces him to approach the child.

He doesn’t want to scare the girl, so he gives her a wide berth as he loops around to the front of the swings, approaching from where the kid can see him. And when she looks up at him, Jasper hates that her terrified expression is vaguely familiar to him…

But when she the fear disappears, relief is quick to take it’s place on her face. The girl smiles at him and releases her grip on one of the chains to wave at him. “Hi!” She exclaims, her legs dangling beneath her as the swing sways in the wind.

Jasper looks around then. “Hi there.” He doesn’t even see any cars parked in the lot across the way. “Are your parents around?”

She shakes her head as she starts pumping her little feet, and then she starts going higher and higher on the swing set. “No, my Mommy is dead,” she says matter-of-factly, and Jasper frowns at that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he keeps his eyes on the horizon, waiting for someone to come claim this child. Something in him tells him not to wander off. Sure, he doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo creep, talking to alone little girls, but he doesn’t want an actual one to come and snatch this girl up while she’s swinging here, all alone.

“S’okay,” she mumbles sadly as she swings back and forth. “I miss lots of people. And stuff. And my friends, too.”

“Is your dad around?”

“No,” she shakes her head, and a dark, angry look falls across her tiny features. “He’s at home being a jerk.”

“Are you supposed to be at home?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She kicks her legs angrily as she talks, “Not allowed to be at home. And I don’t wanna go to school.”

“You don’t like school?”

She shakes her head, still pouting as she swings back, and forth. “I told the teachers Daddy was being mean and then I got in trouble. And I told them not to say nothing!”

That revelation didn’t sit well with him. “Being mean?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, her feet ceasing motion as she thinks to herself. Then, she’s pushing and pulling her feet back and forth again. “I’m not supposed to say things to adults, so you should go to your job or something.”

“I don’t have a job,” he offered, “but I didn’t go to school today either.” He looks around once more. “Is there someone I can call to come get you? Someone that’s not your dad?”

The girl shakes her head. “Alice isn’t allowed to. Dad says she has to stay at home so we don’t get in trouble again.”

Jasper’s entire world shifts with those words. “Alice?” He steps closer. That’s when he notices the little girls arms, full of brightly-colored beads, homemade bracelets that Jasper suddenly recognizes. “Is Alice your sister?”

The child nods, and when she pouts again Jasper suddenly realizes why this girl looks so familiar.

There’s a memory somewhere in his mind where Emmett revealed this little girl’s name, but that particular piece of information is out of his reach. “My name is Jasper. What’s yours?”

And then she says, “Cynthia Brandon” confirming his suspicions.

“Is Alice in trouble?” He begins to approach Cynthia then, but then stops and hesitates. Then, he walks to a swing several feet away and sits down on it. “I’m friends with Alice. We go to school together.” He digs around in his pockets then, knowing that he never had the nerve to actually attach it to his key ring, but when Alice had handed him a hand-made keychain a couple of weeks ago, he’d stuffed it into one of his jacket’s many pockets and forgotten about it. He finally wraps his fingers around the beaded thing and sighs in relief. “She made me this.”

The girl leans toward him, frowning as she studies the keychain he holds out toward her. “No,” she shakes her head, “I made that. Alice just takes them to school for her friends. But I definitely made that.” She sounds put-out by the idea that her big sister is stealing all the credit, and Jasper quickly backpedals.

“Oh, it’s very nice. Alice did give it to me though.”

“I know,” and then she’s smiling again as she kicks her feet. “When Daddy gets mad Alice puts me on her bed and lets me listen to all the music and make as many bracelets and keychains as I want while she talks to Daddy.”

“Does…” Jasper hesitates, “Is Alice alright? I’m very worried about her.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to people about what Daddy does.”

Jasper’s frown intensifies. “Because you’ll get in trouble?”

When Cynthia nods Jasper has to bite back a swear. He doesn’t know what to do now. It’s clear that something sinister is at play here, but with a little girl too afraid to say anything, and with Alice also refusing to give any hints as to what happens to her behind closed doors, Jasper is left lost.

But when his phone buzzes in his pocket, an idea strikes him. Retrieving it from his pocket he ignores the random email notification and, as quickly as he can, he types a message to Bella, placing as much urgency in his words as he can in a short text.

He stays there, sitting with Cynthia, chatting idly with the girl about her favorite way to braid and design her tiny pieces of ‘jewelry’, when Chief Swan’s police cruiser pulls up, parking in the lot behind them without the little girl noticing.

“Are you hungry?” Jasper eventually asks the girl, turning his head and nodding toward Bella’s dad when the man begins to approach, a random deputy at his side. “If I got you some food, would you eat it?”

“I’m always hungry,” she whines. “Alice was supposed to go to the market yesterday but then Daddy—” she slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide when she realizes that two policemen are approaching. “Oh, no,” she hops off the swings and scurries closer to Jasper. “Please tell them to go away,” she says in a whisper loud enough for the two cops to overhear.

“Hi Cynthia,” Charlie Swan smiles over at the girl, “how are you today, sweetheart?”

“Going home,” she declares loudly, reaching out and grabbing Jasper’s hand, quickly pulling him after her. “I’m going home now mister police man! Thank you! Goodbye!”

Jasper takes a few steps after the desperate little girl, turning to look at Chief Swan with a confused gaze. ‘What do I do?’ He mouths as the girl begins to drag him toward town.

‘We’ll follow’, Chief Swan mouths back, nodding to where the little girl is heading. Then, he places a hand on his partner’s shoulder and they begin moving back toward where the squad car is parked.

The pizzeria Cynthia drags him into is one he used to frequent as a child. The amount of birthday parties he and Rosalie had attended in the establishment were most likely in the double digits. His grandfather had been best friends with the owner of the place, and for years Jasper and his friends had been allowed to bring their report cards to the restaurant every marking period. Each ‘A’ entitled the kids to one free slice of pizza.

He leads Cynthia into a booth, sitting her in the side facing away from the parking lot. And minutes later when he sees the squad car park at the opposite end of the lot, he pulls his phone out again and starts texting Bella again. Thankfully she’s quick to send him her father’s number and for the first time since his arrest over a year ago, Jasper is willingly talking to a police officer.

He half-focuses on Cynthia as he starts texting Chief Swan every bit of information he has. It isn’t until Marnie—a waitress who has been working at the restaurant for as long as Jasper has been alive—brings them their order, a small cheese pizza to share and two lemonades, that Jasper realizes he has more information than he realizes.

Marnie gives him a serious look, glancing between the cop car and the little girl, and Jasper has to subtly gesture to the older woman that she needs to be quiet. When Cynthia is distracted with emptying more sugar packets into her lemonade, Jasper flashes the woman his phone. When the woman sees ‘Charlie Swan’ on the top she frowns and then nods, before retreating back into the kitchen.

You have to check on her, Jasper emphasizes more than once in his text messages with the Chief of Police of their tiny town. You have to go over there and make sure she’s alright. 

It’s nearly two hours later—and Cynthia is stuffed full of pizza, cookies, and one warm brownie sundae—when Chief Swan finally exits his vehicle and approaches the building. Jasper hasn’t heard anything from the man in over an hour, but he knows that they’ve sent a few of his people over to the Brandon residence to perform a wellness check.

Marnie and Steve—the owner’s son, and current manager of the establishment—cleared out the restaurant nearly an hour ago, so after the two policemen step through the door, Steve locks the door behind them and flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to read ‘CLOSED’.

“Hi Cynthia,” Charlie Swan speaks again, and Cynthia turns toward the door and lets out a pitiful whine. “It’s okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

“You can’t promise me that!” She shrieks before ducking beneath the booth and reappearing at Jasper’s side. “Go away! I’ll go home later! Leave me alone!”

Chief Swan leans down to eye level with the little girl, and when she grabs Jasper’s arm, hiding behind it, he doesn’t know what to do. “Well, Cynthia. I’m here to tell you that you aren’t going to be able to go home today. In fact, a good friend of mine is going to come by and talk to you, if that’s alright?”

“I want to go home,” Cynthia’s words began to wobble as tears begin to spring to the surface. “I want Alice. I want to go home.”

“Alice is getting some help right now,” and Chief Swan meets Jasper’s eyes quickly then, before looking away, “but when she feels better you’ll be able to see her, alright?”

“I wanna go home,” she cries, burying herself underneath Jasper’s discarded coat, where she continues to cry. “I wanna go home.”

It isn’t until Edward’s parents show up—somehow Jasper had forgotten all about the slew of foster siblings Edward had when they were young—and Esme Cullen spends a few minutes calmly talking to Cynthia, that the little girl appears more willing to go with them. 

When Cynthia is packed away into some random car with a borrowed booster seat Jasper turns toward Chief Swan. “Please tell me she’s alright.”

The man nods, and Jasper feels his shoulders deflate, relief almost suffocating. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to say that if we’d waited another day or two to check, but their father is in custody and Alice is at the hospital.” The man fixes Jasper with a long look then. “I don’t know why, or how it is that I always find you at the center of these situations,” he remarks, somehow looking down his nose at Jasper, despite the fact he was a shorter man, “but you’re good man, Hale. Just make sure to talk to your parents about this.” He turned to walk away, “And thanks for not going rogue again this time.”

The underlying message was clear: ‘thanks for not trying to kill Mr. Brandon’.

When he walks through his front door an hour later, dragging himself up the stairs with heavy feet, he’s met with an avalanche of people suddenly. And when Rosalie’s arms are wrapped around his neck, he almost feels himself break down then.

“Tell us everything,” she mutters quickly against his neck, and that’s when Jasper realizes that Emmett, Edward, and Bella are all standing behind her on the stairs or in the hallway above.

He gets through the story slowly, starting with when he left the house and stopping when he realized that he was talking to Alice’s little sister.

“I’m so glad you texted me when you did,” Bella sighs. “I don’t usually have my phone on me during school, but it’s my Mom’s birthday, so I’ve been waiting on messages from her all day.”

“I knew something was up when Bella ditched English last period,” Edward comments from where he’s leaning back against Rosalie’s wall.

“Bella ditching class at all should be a red flag,” Rosalie remarks from her spot on her bed beside Jasper.

“Your parents have her sister, last I saw,” Jasper turns toward Edward as he speaks, as if hoping the younger boy could provide more information.

Edward nods. “They called a few minutes after I got here. They’re technically still registered as foster parents, so if they can’t get a hold of any other relatives in the area, I’m going to have some foster sisters soon,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal to him to have Alice and Cynthia moving in. And the idea of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen taking care of the pair of girls is enough for force Jasper to look away from everyone, afraid that he might start getting emotional again.

Jasper stays home from school again the next day, and Rosalie does, too. It doesn’t take long for news to travel through the town of Forks and Jasper knows that if he hears any disrespectful gossip at school, he’ll likely be disappointing Chief Swan much sooner than anticipated.

He tries to visit Alice at the hospital but since there’s an ongoing investigation they turn him away at the front desk.

Joseph Brandon eventually calls one of them—the school must’ve finally gotten a hold of him about their absences—and gets the full story from Rosalie, promising to be home within the day and giving them permission to use the emergency credit card to get a bouquet of flowers sent to Alice’s hospital room.

When Monday rolls around he doesn’t want to go to school, but his father and Rosalie force him out of bed and down the stairs. He’s sort of glad he’s pushed out the door that morning, because when he returns home that afternoon, Mom is back, which means he’s missed out on a huge fight, and he’s relieved that at least it happened while he and Rosalie were at school this time.

The news of the newcomers—John Edgar Brandon and his two daughters—is such hot gossip around town that when Jasper and Rosalie come home one day to their mother’s belongings packed away in a U-haul truck, and some strange man helping her pack, the news doesn’t even make it to his classmates. Because the story of Joseph Hale finally kicking his unfaithful wife to the curb is something that the people of this town have been waiting for him to do for years now.

But the story of the twice-widowed John Edgar Brandon being arrested for abuse, neglect, and suspected murder, easily trumps the news of any simple extra-marital affair. Jasper hates the relief he feels, knowing that his deadbeat mother isn’t going to be the talk of the town, and instead the fact that John Edgar beat his eldest daughter within an inch of her life, is.

He’s been back at school for a full week when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s nearly the end of the day; the bell is set to go off within minutes and he knows he won’t get a demerit if any teachers see him on his phone at this point on a Friday.

The first message is from Edward.

I told her not to go overboard. But he’s my apology in advance.

The second is from an unknown number.

hi jasper!!!!!!!!!!!!

 He pockets the phone with a frown, staring back at the clock on the wall before realizing that his teacher is wrapped up in conversation with a few kids on the opposite side of the classroom. Trying not to be seen he ducks out of the classroom swiftly, pulling his phone out of his pocket to stare at the text message again.

It takes him two more seconds to realize who is texting him and before he can stop himself he’s pressing the ‘call’ button and rushing out the front doors as fast as he can. As he listens to the phone ring on the other end the knot in his throat is so thick that he’s afraid he might choke if he tries to say anything.

“Um,” her voice on the other end of the line sounds like a miracle, and Jasper finds himself clinging to his phone even as he strides into the parking lot, rain pouring down heavily on his head. “Hello?”

“Alice?” He can’t keep his voice from cracking as he makes it to his car, struggling with the keys to open the door and make it inside. “It’s Jasper.”

“I know,” and her voice sounds so small, so unsure that Jasper’s chest hurts hearing it. “Esme and Carlisle got me a phone.”

“That’s amazing,” he finds himself smiling as he talks, slamming the car door shut once he finally manages to climb inside and avoid the downpour. “Is it hard to use?”

“Kind of,” her voice sounds raspier than usual. Whether it’s due to misuse or injury, Jasper is still unsure. He hasn’t heard anything about her physical state, yet. “Edward’s helping me a lot though. Which is nice.” Theres another pause. “He’s nice.”

“He is,” Jasper agrees, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “It’s so good to hear from you, Alice.”

“Jasper,” she sounds sad, then, “I want to apologize.”

“What?” He sits up abruptly, his eyes open again. “Alice, no. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“I lied,” she whispers, “so, so much.”

“No, you didn’t. You kept quiet to keep yourself safe,” his words are stern but kind. “That’s different.”

“I’ve made everyone so, so miserable,” and when her voice cracks, Jasper feels something in his chest crack right alongside it. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Alice, listen to me,” clinging to the phone with both hands he finds that he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to tell this girl and he doesn’t know how to repair something that neither of them are responsible for damaging in the first place.

The entire situation is a mess.

“Are you allowed to have visitors now?” He asks instead. “I’d really like to see you.” There’s a slight pause. “And Cynthia,” he adds on. “I’m not sure if she’s told you about our adventure the other week.”

Alice laughs then, “Yeah. She keeps telling me she likes my tall friend with the pizza.” Jasper smiles at that. “I told her I do, too.” Theres the sound of shuffling on the other line, and then Alice speaks again. “I’m… not sure if I’m allowed…”

“Can you ask?” Then, he realizes what he’s requesting of her, and changes his mind. “I can have Edward ask, I mean.” The idea of asking a parent for permission for anything is something he’s sure Alice has no experience in.

“Um, maybe, yeah. That might be better.” After a slight pause, she sighs into the phone. “I miss you.”

Jasper’s stomach does flips then as he deflates back down into the seat. He can hear the sound of the final bell going off in the background, but he’s too focused on his phone to care. “How about I text Edward, and see if I can come over later?” The idea of inviting himself over to the Cullen household is as bizarre as it is bold, but Jasper doesn’t care. He wants to see Alice, badly. “Maybe I’ll bring some pizza for you and Cynthia.” 

Alice giggles at that. “I think she’d really like that. Yeah, okay.”

It isn’t until minutes later when Rosalie wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat that he realizes he’s been crying. She gasps at the sight, leaning forward and grabbing his hand and demanding to know what’s wrong, and only when he wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands and shakes his head, telling her that Alice is safe and home, does she deflate, pulling him into a hug.

Esme Cullen declines his offer to bring pizza, but is happy enough to see him when he and Rosalie walk through their front door that night. Cynthia is excited to see him and wants to show Jasper her new bedroom, informing him that it’s ‘full of books and shelves’, prompting Rosalie and Jasper to share a strange look with one another and prompting Esme to quickly explain that they were still in the process of packing up her husband’s study to convert into another bedroom for the young girl.

The house is huge—easily one of the biggest homes Jasper has ever seen—and when they eventually reach the kitchen in the back of the house, Alice is already sitting at the table, her eyes wide and smile bright as they cross the room toward her.

“Alice! Alice! Your friends are here!” Cynthia exclaims before climbing into the chair beside her sister.

Alice laughs and looks over at her sister, beaming, “I see that! I’m so happy!”

“Me too!” The girl giggles before hopping down off the chair and running after Esme. “Let’s finish dinner now, please, please!”

Alice looks better than Jasper expected her to, if he’s being honest with himself. One eye is still quite swollen and what used to be her ‘good arm’ is in some type of sling, but her smile is bright and there is color in her cheeks. Judging by the ill-fitting button down Jasper can tell it’s a collarbone fracture, and even though he can’t see her legs, there is a wheelchair resting a few feet behind where she sits.

“Good to see you,” Rose smiles at the small girl, leaning forward to wrap Alice in a light hug. Alice looks delighted at such a reaction from Rosalie, even grinning excitedly over the blonde’s shoulder toward Jasper, and when she lifts her pink cast to give him a thumbs up, he has to refrain from laughing out loud. “I’ll have to drag Emmett by sometime this week. He can’t wait to see you.”

“Oh, please do!” Then, Alice freezes, turning toward where Esme and Cynthia are across the room, “I—I mean, if I’m allowed to.”

Esme’s smile is kind and her words are steady when she calls calmly toward the anxious girl. “Guests are welcome any time before eight PM on school nights and ten PM on weekends. Carlisle and I will let you know beforehand if we have any exceptions on any days.”

And with the gentle setting of boundaries Jasper watches as Alice calms visibly, her shoulders losing their tension as she turns back toward Rosalie and smiles, nodding. “Yeah, I want to see Emmett, too.”

“He might be over sooner than this week,” Edward chimes in as he enters the room, waving his phone toward them. “He and Bella are on their way now, apparently.”

Rosalie manages to look a bit irritated at that. “He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I thought you didn’t care what Emmett does with his free time,” Edward speaks knowingly. It takes Jasper several seconds to realize that Edward is teasing his sister. And not only that, Rosalie hasn’t retorted; instead, she’s turning bright red where she stands.

Oh. Well, that was certainly a development.

“I’m glad I planned on having leftovers,” Esme laughs good-naturedly from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Despite the unexpected guests, the dinner at the Cullen household goes like this: He manages to sit himself on Alice’s opposite side and hardly leaves it the entire night. She has difficulty picking up food with her fork, and even despite Esme’s insistence that she can help the girl Jasper insists on doing it. It’s when he realizes that most of the foods he’s scooping onto her utensils are soft, easily chewable things, that he wonders, as he helps her wrap her fingers around her fork again and again, what other unseen injuries she possesses.

Emmett and Rosalie insist on helping Esme clean up dinner, and Edward shows Jasper how to fold and unfold Alice’s wheelchair, before the younger boy helps Alice into it. Jasper feels nauseous as he sees that both of her legs are injured. Her left is in a cast up to her knee, and her right foot is in a black boot.

They’re ushered from the kitchen into a giant living room with a television so big that it makes Jasper wonder how they got it into the house.

As they wait for Emmett and Rosalie to join them Cynthia takes control of the remote as well as the trajectory of their night. Edward groans and Bella shushes him when the little girl announces they’re watching some animated movie Jasper knows nothing about, but after an hour into the film Emmett has declared that it’s his new favorite movie and Cynthia has declared that Emmett is her new favorite person.

They’re halfway through the sequel when the little girl finally passes out, one too many musical numbers zapping her energy. Esme laughs and Emmett remarks that his dance partner has underestimated her endurance as he helps collect the girl and carry her off to bed.

They turn the cartoon off after that and put on something a little more suitable for a group of teenagers. Some mindless comedy that Esme decides to forgo as she prepares to retreat to some other part of the house.

“Dude, your mom kicks ass,” Emmett whispers to Edward after Esme finally leaves them, bowls of freshly popped popcorn and pitchers of juice placed on the coffee table before them all. “What the hell?” He gestures to the TV and the popcorn. “HBO max and the gourmet buttered shit? You’ve been holding out on us, Cullen.”

“Edward’s spoiled,” Bella remarks with a grin as Edward turns to glare at his girlfriend, but when she pokes him in the ribs, causing him to jump nearly a foot in the air, they all laugh. “What? It’s true.”

The movie has barely begun before Jasper feels Alice begin to drift at his side. He turns toward her, hyperaware of her every movement, watching as she begins to nod off slowly, her head dipping and eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asks quietly enough that no one else hears him over the noise of the surround-sound in the room. But Alice shakes her head stubbornly before sitting up and adjusting the pillows beneath her arm in the sling. Then, she snuggles up close to Jasper’s side and lets out a long sigh.

“Not yet,” she mutters to him, even though her eyes are already fluttering shut again. “I want to stay here, please.”

Jasper barely pays attention to the movie after that. Instead he spends the next hour and a half letting his mind run rampant. His thoughts are so swept up in all things Alice that he hardly notices when the movie has ended and Emmett and Rosalie are standing up and stretching. Emmett starts to talk loudly before Rose smacks his shoulder, gesturing to where Alice is fast asleep at Jasper’s side.

They all slowly disperse after that. Rosalie hitches a ride home with Emmett, and before Edward leaves to drive Bella home he goes and fetches his mother to help Jasper move Alice to bed.

While Esme is unfolding the chair Jasper simply stands, maneuvering Alice into his arms as carefully as possible, all while trying not to jostle her too much. “It’s fine,” he whispers to Esme, shaking his head and gesturing for her to lead the way.

The room that has become Alice’s room is the only bedroom on the main level. Originally a guest room, Esme explains, it didn’t take much to transform it into the type of a room a teenage girl would love. In addition to the new cell phone, there’s a small desktop situated on a new-looking desk in the corner of the room, and there are pink and white twinkle lights cascading across where the walls and ceiling meet. The bedspread is also pink and white, and knowing that they’re Alice’s favorite colors, and that this room was hurriedly designed with her in mind, is enough to force Jasper’s throat to tighten up with emotion again.

The bed is low enough to make it easy for Alice to get in and out with minimal assistance, which means that Jasper has to bend down quite far to gently deposit Alice against the covers. Despite his care, she wakes up the instant his arms are back at his sides, sitting up with a gasp and then a wince, and when she cries out in pain both he and Esme are at her side.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Esme presses a firm hand between her shoulder blades, pressing forward until she’s sitting up straight. “There we go, good. Try not to bend sideways, that-a-girl.”

Gritting her teeth together Alice blinks up at the pair of them, visibly relaxing at the two people in front of her. “I need to pee,” she manages to rasp between pained gasps.

“I’ll go get her chair,” Esme says as she stands back up, swiftly exiting the room.

“Are you alright?”

Alice nods quickly, despite the pain apparent on her face. “Just hurts,” she wheezes as she closes her eyes. Reaching out she grabs for his hand, which Jasper is all-too-happy to give to her. Squeezing it tightly she manages a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be alright,” Jasper sighs. And he means those words so wholeheartedly that it makes him emotional. Her injuries would heal, both physical as well as mental. It was so clear, in just the way that the Cullens had quickly outfitted their home to take in the two girls, that they would be safe here, and loved, and cared for.

Everything they hadn’t been afforded before.

“Is it after ten?” She asks, her eyes looking for the clock on the nightstand behind her. But when she tries to twist to see it and winces, she laughs. “I keep forgetting I can’t do that.”

“It’s nearly ten; 9:48.”

“That means you have to go soon, then.” 

He nods as Esme enters the room, wheeling her chair in and helping Alice scoot herself off of the bed and into it. “We’ll be right back,” the kind-hearted woman smiles up at him as she wheels Alice out of the room. “Carlisle will be home any minute now.”

True to her word, the sound of the front door opening and closing brings Jasper’s attention toward the hallway as he watches Carlisle Cullen move carefully through his home.

Upon sight of the teenager standing alone in Alice’s room he approaches with a smile. “Good to see you, Jasper,” and when the older man offers his hand, Jasper takes it firmly, realizing this is the first time he’s actually spoken to Edward’s father. “I heard you all had a fun night.”

“Yes, sir,” Jasper nods, “Dinner, some movies. My sister and I appreciate the hospitality.”

Carlisle smiles warmly. “And you’re both welcome any time. Friends of Edward’s, and of Alice’s, are always welcome here.”

Jasper is taken aback by how much he dislikes that particular statement. Thankfully, Esme and Alice return seconds later, but the idea that he is simply that—a friend to Alice, doesn’t sit right with him.

It’s a ridiculous reaction to have, of course. And he continues to think this even as he helps Carlisle move Alice out of her chair and into her bed. It isn’t until Alice releases her grip on his hand that he realizes the cause of his disdain for the title.

He isn’t friends with Alice Brandon. Not really.

He cares about this tiny girl far, far too much to use the word. And when she smiles up at him almost shyly when Carlisle kindly reminds the two that ten PM is as late as guests can stay, Jasper can’t help the heart palpitations he feels when she turns to the older man and promises she’ll let Jasper leave after she properly says goodnight.

Jasper can see the unamused look Carlisle gives his wife, but Esme is hiding her grin well as she grabs her husband’s hand and drags him from the room, even closing the door behind them both; a luxury that even Jasper’s lenient father never grants to him and Rosalie when they have guests over.

The alarm clock on the bedside table blinks a bright pink 9:57 at him, and he knows his time is nearly up.

Alice reaches over and takes his hand in hers, tugging slightly until he’s sitting on the bed beside her. Carlisle already propped her up on the pillows and blankets she’ll be sleeping on until her collarbone heals, so Jasper has to nearly crawl across the bed until he’s sitting at her side. And even though most of her injuries are now hidden from him with a blanket tossed over her, he knows they’re there. That her bones are broken and her injuries are still too extensive to even properly see all of them. That the state of her body is far worse than it was that night she came to him, lip and cheek bleeding as she quietly sobbed on the floor of his bedroom.

“I have so much I want to say to you,” Alice eventually speaks, her eyes staring at his hand as she grips it tightly. “But I know I don’t have a lot of time, so I think ‘thank you’ is good enough for tonight.” She stares intently down at his hand as she speaks, and Jasper is so hypnotized by the way her eyebrows furrow and her lips pucker when she frowns that he has to force himself to focus on her words. “If you hadn’t found Cynthia that day, and if you didn’t do what you did, I would be lying in a pool of blood in the basement of that house, dead right now.”

The sorrow that fills him, upon hearing those words from her mouth, is something Jasper can’t even begin to properly sort through. So when Alice continues talking, he files that feeling away, knowing he’ll need to process it eventually, but that right now, Alice and her words are what is important.

“I owe you a lot; not just my life. But explanations. And stories and,” Alice swallows and forces herself to look back up at him, “and I owe you. All the answers I have to give.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he needs to emphasize that before she makes up her mind. “You will never owe me a single thing, Alice.”

“Well, what if I want to volunteer the information? What if I want to tell you every little thing I couldn’t before? Every detail that was dangerous before?”

He stares back into her eyes, realizing for the first time that they’re a deep, dark blue color. “I’ll listen to any little thing you want to tell me, Alice,” he promises as he holds her gaze.

Alice releases his hand then, lifting her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb against his skin as the palm of her cast presses against his face. “What if I tell you to kiss me?” She whispers, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips as she attempts to lean up.

“Are you sure?” He feels himself leaning down before he can even gather her reply, and the second she has enough of a grip on the back of his neck she’s pulling him down toward her.

“Please kiss me,” she whispers against his lips, and when he finally obliges her, she sighs against his mouth. It’s the most beautiful sound Jasper has ever heard.

The kiss is sweet, gentle, and far-too-short, as a sharp knock on the door forces him to draw back quickly, turning at the sound of Carlisle on the other side of the door, reminding them that it was after ten now.

Alice laughs when she hears Esme scold her husband, and then the two voices are far away when Jasper turns back down to look at her. “Oops,” is all he can think to say.

Alice’s laughter fills the room as she reaches up again. And when Jasper kisses her once more before pulling away, Alice sighs against his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose before nodding. “Tomorrow.”

“If visitors are allowed as late as ten o’clock,” Alice muses softly as Jasper crawls out of the bed. “I wonder how early they’re allowed…”

Jasper laughs, walking over to the side of the bed Alice is on before leaning down, capturing her lips in one final kiss. “I’ll ask on the way out.” And when Alice pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, Jasper scoffs at his own train of thought.

He and Alice Brandon definitely weren’t ‘friends’.

And that was more than enough for Jasper.

[florenceandthemachine]

that original lifeline

chapter 5 / 5 - “you deserve what you are given” - 3.6k

in which Eddie has a good day, has a bad day, sees a familiar face, and tries not to blow up an ambulance. not necessarily in that order.

it’s all done! my first ever standalone, prompt-free fic! I hope you all at least tolerated it as much as I did. I also would like to say—please, if you’re seeing things that look messy or need to be touched up, you’re welcome to let me know. I'm sure I'm going to go over it and re-edit a million times over the next week.

read on AO3

Eddie knew that things were going to be different the moment he slapped his alarm the next morning, because for the first time in months, he actually turned his alarm off. He didn’t lie in bed and ignore it, he didn’t hit snooze until he could get the energy to see the day, he turned it off, he got up, and he started to dress. He couldn’t remember the last time he had greeted a Monday on time for an early morning workout, but the few miles he was able to get in on the treadmill was nothing compared to the look of happiness on his son’s face when he got to join him and Carla for breakfast—instead of running out the door, a granola bar lodged in his mouth. He literally felt like he just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning; judging by the way that Chris lit up, and Carla rose her brows in surprise, his change in attitude was already being noticed. 

Even if Carla was good enough not to comment on it. 

Honestly, Eddie didn’t know what was going on himself, but he wasn’t going to complain. A day ago, he had almost started to cry at one of those family car commercials with an old dog in it, and today, he was already back into the familiar motions of ‘being well’. 

He had been through enough therapy in his life to know the “highs and lows” mental health speech every which way, but what he hadn’t realized until this morning was that when you were low, being low becomes your new normal. Eddie had been through it before (with Shannon, with his parents, with… name a thing), and he knew it would probably come again, but that didn’t make the moments that he got to stand in the light on the other side of the tunnel any less sweet.

It felt like he was standing in the sun.

“Morning Hen! Coffee?” Eddie grinned as he took the stairs up into the loft two at a time, box of danishes in one hand, coffee holders stacked high in the other. He had literally been smiling since he parked his car outside, and was now beaming at Hen only because she was lucky enough to be the first person he got to see that day. Lucky, sure, but he still didn’t miss the way that her brows rose into her hair as she took her cup and her selection of baked goods, knowing full well that this was probably… a lot to take in from his behavior for the past many weeks. 

“You’re… cheery.” Hen commented easily, staring at Eddie like a puzzle to figure out—and while that would have made him nervous before, it was actually kind of nice now, a friend showing that she cared. 

To his credit, Eddie just shrugged, pulling off another coffee as he put the boxes down on the table, knowing full well they would be devoured before he could even look back. “What can I say? It’s a good day today, the sun is out, and I only have to be here for eight hours. Hey, where’s Chim? I got Mr. Asian James Bond an extra bear claw, since he’s been driving everyone up the wall with his whole sorority girls speech.”

Hen let the topic drop (and Eddie thanked her silently for it) as she groaned and shook her head, taking another drag from her coffee cup as, sure enough, the pastry boxes started to draw everyone in like flies. He started handing out coffees to those who’s orders he could remember, grinning as Hen launched into it. “No no, ‘Asian James Bond’ was last week, now it’s ‘Asian Sex Symbol’ to you. God, that stupid calendar, between he and Bobby I am ready to enter myself, blow them both out of the water as Miss July, and—”

“Hey, hold up, where’s Bosko?” Eddie said, cutting her off before she could pick up too much steam, staring at the last coffee in his hands as Bobby pulled his own free. 

Hen and Bobby shared a glance as Bobby cleared his throat around a mouthful of coffee, swallowing before he started to speak. “Actually, Lena’s back with the 136 for the foreseeable future. I’m happy to say that we finally have that vacancy filled.”

Eddie felt his brows launch into his hairline, only vaguely remembering that Lena was supposed to be here on a temporary basis—and he had been a complete ass to her for the past few months. Well, that was going to be a fun little addition to his long list of issues, and he winced as he made a mental note to swing by the 136 later on with another danish and an apology. Hen caught the look, her own brow tilting in return, though she was good enough to redirect her attention back up to Bobby. “So, wait, who’s going to be the newbie on the 118?”

“He is walking up the stairs right now, if you want to turn around. Just graduated out of the Academy last week. Pretty much top of his class, apparently impressed enough people that I had to fight off station 6 to get him to come here—welcome, Evan Buckley.” 

“Hey, uh, you can just call me Buck.” 

Eddie almost choked on his coffee as he heard a voice behind him, grabbing a napkin to catch a few drops as he turned, trying to repress his cough as he turned around, meeting a pair of blue eyes, staring at Eddie with an intensity that made his insides curl like he had just been sucker punched. He didn’t say anything, of course, just reached out and shook hands, introduced himself, did the whole shebang—with a smile, he might add! 

Today was a good day. It could still be a good day. It really, really had the potential to be a good day. 

-

Today was not a good day. 

Eddie wanted to work well with Buck, he really did, but every time Buck opened his mouth, all Eddie could feel was pressure, water pushing in on him at every angle, the choking taste of mud in his mouth. At this point in time, Eddie wasn’t sure what was worse—that Buck seemed to put his foot in his mouth whenever he talked to Eddie, or the fact that he didn’t seem to give a fuck where and when he was flapping his yap.

An exploding man hole cover literally knocking someone’s arm into the nearby pool? He had barely started with “Hey, you good? You must have lucked out after that firetruck and all…” before Eddie was talking over him, asking for gauze and a tourniquet to try and save some of the live tissue in the very-much-not-alive arm. 

A stab wound to the ass that resulted in the most lifelike Michelin man that Eddie had ever seen? “So, silver star, huh? You save a platoon or something?” Eddie managed to smile, jaw tight as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I was just in convoy.”

Even their downtime wasn’t safe—a grocery run that wound up with the entire team stacked high with grocery bags as they walked back into the station? “Hey, I saw a piece about that drill—“

“Alright, who wants lunch?” Eddie was immensely thankful for Bobby’s distraction, not bothering to hide the fact that his interruption was far from a coincidence. By now, even Hen was looking at Buck like he was a crazy person at that point—or maybe just an asshole. 

Somehow, after all of their calls, it only came to a head in the gym. Apparently, Buck had decided that the subtle approach (not that anything Buck did could be called subtle) wasn’t good enough, and for whatever reason decided that the gym was the best time to approach Eddie. 

Honestly, if Eddie wasn’t a good thirty away from the first real workout he had had in weeks, he probably would have walked away.

“Eddie, you… you know who I am, right?”

His jaw twitching in time with his punches, Eddie finally relented from the poor bag and looked at Buck directly, jaw set as he started to rewrap his hands. “And what if I didn’t? You think this would have gone over well with HR, the new guy bringing up the worst days of my life and all but asking me about a fucking guardian angel?”

“Jesus, that’s not what I—“

“I met Athena.”

Eddie could almost hear Buck’s mouth shut, the clack of his teeth somehow louder than the din of the station behind him. “I met her and she told me that she didn’t know what had happened, and then she offered to make me forget. Forget about you, about everything, because not even she knew where you had wound up.” Eddie started, rolling his wrists easily. “She apologized to me, she said she missed you, well, not that she was alone in that sense. You should probably find a way to apologize to her, too. Let her know you’re okay. Hold the bag.” Eddie’s voice was low even as his tone started to sharpen, doing his absolute best to keep his face neutral, lest he want any attention from Hen or Bobby for harassing the new guy. 

To Buck’s credit, he did as Eddie asked, holding the bag steady as Eddie started to wail on it anew, thankful that he at least had the temporary distraction of pressure against his knuckles to stop the urge to scream into the sky. 

“Athena… she really did that?” Eddie didn’t respond, just threw another punch, grunting with the exertion. Buck’s voice was low, barely louder than the sound of Eddie’s hands making contact with the bag. “Is that what you want? An apology? Because I’m not going to apologize for saving you, Eddie, I’m not going to say sorry for not leaving you in the bottom of a pit to… I’m not sorry for that. So if that’s what you’re after, I don’t know what to offer you.” 

Eddie threw a kick from his left, giving Buck plenty of time to adjust his grip before his ankle came smashing into the bag, panting as he stared Buck down, feeling the anger start to drain out of him as he breathed, shaking his head. “Buck, is that what you think this is about?”

Buck, bless him, just looked like a lost puppy when what Eddie said sunk in.

“You saved my life. I mean, you’ve always kept me safe, but back there you saved my life. You let me go home to my kid, you… I could never thank you enough for that. I’m not mad about that.” He shook his head, flexing his fingers as he took another fighting stance, his poster lower, more subdued than the all out attack he was waging before. 

“Well then what—“

“I’m not mad at you because you left.” Eddie repeated, starting another round of punches, each hit slower, shorter, but packed with more force than was strictly necessary. “I’m mad at you because you fucking—because you didn’t come back. Because you chose not to come back. You went through the academy, top of the class, and that was eighteen weeks of you being here, just miles away from me in Los Angeles, and you let me think that you were dead that entire time. You were with me my whole entire life, you were a constant, and then I lost you, Buck, and I had to try and live with that. And then you show up at work today, and you’re alive, and human, and I’ve had barely eight hours to deal with all of this, after I—I fucking mourned you. I mourned you, and you let me, and that—that’s why I’m mad.”

Although, the more he spoke, the more Eddie realized that he wasn’t mad, not really, not that he would own up to it that easily. He wasn’t angry, he was just… crushed. His hook got sloppy and he went wide, eyes wild, stumbling only a little before catching himself on the bag.

“Why does everyone leave me? What did I do, Buck, why didn’t you come back?”

The sudden sound of footsteps drew his eye up to the loft where the next shift was pouring in, easily exchanging pleasantries with Eddie’s team, and Eddie felt the last bit of fight drain out of him as he started to unwind his gloves. The day was done. His shift was over. And after feeling nothing but empty for weeks, Eddie had just about exhausted the entire range of his emotional capabilities in less than a day.

“Eddie, I—“

“Forget it, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow, or whatever.” Eddie said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he headed back to the locker area.

-

“Fire and Rescue, hello?”

Eddie was having another… long day. Not a bad day, not necessarily, but not a… great day either. He had still managed to get up, he had still brought himself to work, he still managed an honest smile when he kissed Chris goodbye, but he found himself hesitating before he wound up walking into the 118. He didn’t know if he could handle Buck again today—thankfully, it seemed like he didn’t have to. Buck was mostly absent that morning, giving Eddie enough apologetic looks over the table to display that he got he had been an asshole the day before (or, more likely, that Hen and Chim had verbally beat that fact into him before Eddie got there).

Their morning had gone off without incident—there had only been one real call outside a few false alarms, a moron with his head literally cemented into a microwave—and to be honest, Eddie couldn’t deny the fact that he loved how easily he and Buck could work together. Well, how easy they worked together when Buck shut up for three minutes. 

Another save, an easy lunch, and Eddie’s eight hour shift looked like it would be ending easily when they got the call to head down to Torrence, walking into what felt like the worlds most mothball-scented Army Navy Surplus store.

Eddie felt his body tense up as soon as the word ‘grenade’, having to take a split second to remind himself that he was still in the States, he wasn’t in wartime, he was still safe. Because he was safe, they were okay, until Buck moved the dressings and a gold glint caught his eye. 

“None of the guys I’ve worked with were dumb enough to shoot a live round into their own leg, but I’m familiar with the ordinance.”

Eddie felt his jaw twitch again as Buck stared him down, a tic that he was sure would come to be familiar in over the next few days. Honestly, he was starting to think that Buck was just bringing all the mess with him—he had gone months without a call that threatened his life and limb, and then as soon as Buck came back into his life, there he was, with a grenade stuck inside of some old, gun collecting bastard. He could almost feel the moment where Buck opened his mouth—it was the same feeling he got whenever Buck had appeared, years and years ago, whenever something extremely stupid was about to happen. 

“I’m in.” 

Of course he was. 

For what it was worth, Buck had stellar bedside manner. It was easy for him to to make small talk with Charlie while he hung the morphine, asking about his wife, his life, and Eddie found himself a little bit reassured by how easily Buck was able to buckle down and rise to the situation. After all, Buck had been doing that for Eddie’s whole life—it would be a shame if he lost that skill when he could use it the most.

They kept their talk small and professional as Eddie worked, even though most of his work was giving short, clipped orders, like he was afraid that the grenade would be able to tell how stressed out he was and put them both out of their misery, then and there. They both let out a collective sigh of relief as the grenade plunked, solid and heavy into the bin, Buck hastily closing it like a lid would save them all if that thing were to blow up.

Eddie was just finishing up, throwing a few stitches to try and keep things together until Charlie could make it up to surgery when Buck finally found his voice.

“I was scared, Eddie.”

Eddie didn’t even bother looking up, his fingers working quickly. “I know, but we got it out, we just have to be careful not to move the box too much.”

“No. I mean, about coming back, about seeing you, I… I was scared.”

Eddie looked up as he threw another stitch, sparing a quick look to make sure that the old man was still out cold. When Buck looked up to him, Eddie rose his brows, giving him a little not of encouragement. 

“You said I’ve been with you your whole life, but… that goes both ways, Eddie. I don’t even know what happened, one minute I had hurled you out of that lake, and the next I was nothing, there was just nothing, and then…” He took a breath as he moved the dressings, letting Eddie continue his easy stitchwort. “And then I was in a loft in Los Angeles, with a drivers license in my pocket and a brochure for the LAFD Academy on a dresser. I still don’t know how I got there, but I knew it would bring me to you.”

“Here, cut here.”

Buck snipped the end of Eddie’s suture easily, passing him a tube of antibacterial gel, dolloping it along the messy wound site.

“For the first time in years, I couldn’t feel you anymore. I didn’t know what you were doing, or how you were feeling, or if you were safe, and it scared me. I missed you, of course I did, but I knew that if I just went right back to you, it would be like nothing had changed, when really, everything had changed.” Eddie looked up as he covered the gel in an adhesive gauze patch, hanging another bag of fluids, eyes tracking between the steady blip of the heart monitor and the very live grenade in a bin at the end of the ambulance, while his brain tried to keep up with the live grenade that he and Buck were lobbing back and forth.

Nodding for Buck to open the back door, Eddie waited until they both had their feet on the ground to respond, rolling his neck. “Well, that’s kind of par for the course. Being scared, I mean.” he started, a small smile on his face as Buck looked back, catching his eye. Eddie shrugged, eye darting over to the rest of their team, still safely out of earshot as he nudged Buck’s shoulder, the motion easy and simple, muscle memory built up over years.

“Welcome to the human condition. It kind of sucks. You’re going to love it.”

And fuck, Buck was smiling again. Eddie would give anything to keep that look on his face, even as they handed Charlie off to the medics, even as the bomb squad guy called in the robot to… well, to do what, Eddie didn’t know. But that was the beauty of it all—he didn’t have to care anymore. All that mattered to him in that moment were his boots on his ground, the air around him, and maybe, if he played his cards right, the team he got to work with. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him as he pulled his flac jacket off, a little slow on the uptake of whatever had happened in the ambulance.

“You know, you’re pretty badass under pressure.” Eddie said, his face curving up into the first real smile he had worn in days. Buck looked like a deer in the headlights, like Eddie must have been talking to someone, anyone else, and even Bobby cracked a grin as Eddie smacked him in the arm. “You can have my back any day.”

Buck looked, well, Eddie would have framed the look on Buck’s face if he could. It was a vision of pure joy, the simple sentence meaning more to both of them than anyone else could ever know, and Eddie had to resist the urge to pull him into a bone crushing hug as he kicked at the ground. 

“Yeah. Or, you know, you could… You could have mine.”

If Eddie smiled any wider, he felt like his face was going to crack.

 They were still not great—not by a long shot—but for the first time in almost six months, Eddie finally felt something close to closure, to peace, a starting point for the two of them that would take them both who-knows-where.

“Deal.”

And then, because nothing in Eddie’s life was ever easy, the ambulance exploded. Eddie wasn’t even phased at this point in his life—any exploding vehicle was fine by him as long as he wasn’t on it.

“Are, uh, are you guys hungry? There’s a great burger place around here, they’re open for another hour or so.”

-

Hanging back as the rest of his crew packed up, Bobby pulled his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed, a small smile gracing his lips as he unlocked it. 

New Message from A - 11:12PM

Well? Was I right, or was I right?

“Cap, come on! Burgers wait for no man!”

To A - 11:14PM

They’re going to be one hell of a team.

[maluminspace]

Genre: WW2/drama/angst/fluff/

Pairings: Calum Hood/Michael Clifford

Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

Word Count: 9k

Trigger warnings: Strong language, physical abuse, physical violence, reference to war, reference to death, references to domestic abuse, period typical racism, period typical homophobia, internalised homophobia

A/N: I have wanted to write a ww2 fic for a very long time so when the generator threw out 40s for malum I jumped on it for this event. This is just a portion of the espically long final fic I have planned. The overall piece will be posted on my AO3 account when it’s complete. I hope you all enjoy this segment enough to check it out when it’s entirely complete.

September 1940

As the train pulled into the little station, Calum let out a sigh of relief. It’d been a long journey and the train had felt too hot and stuffy. He picked up his suitcase and joined the other passengers gathering at the doors.

Once he was able to step onto the platform, Calum took a moment to compose himself. He’d spent the entire train journey trying not to think of London and his family. He already missed them all. Now that he’d arrived in Yorkshire, it was hard not to immediately identify all the differences between this sleepy rural life and the hustle and bustle of the capital city. 

Before he could fully process his new surroundings, Calum noticed his Uncle Donald standing near the doorway of the waiting room. He looked so much like Calum’s dad that it almost brought tears to the 15-year-old’s eyes. 

“Hello, Calum lad!” His uncle smiled as he weaved through the people filling the platform. “Give me that suitcase, let’s get you home and settled in.”

Calum gave a half-hearted smile. He was a little surprised by the friendly welcome. He’d only ever met his dad’s side of the family once before when he was very little. It was highly possible that they would be disapproving of Calum’s ‘exotic’ appearance but it seemed that those worries were unnecessary at least. 

Donald took the heavy case from Calum as though it weighed nothing. A moment of sympathy flashed in his eyes as he seemingly recognized his nephew’s uncertainty. “Don’t worry, lad.” He smiled gently. “You’re welcome here for as long as this war goes on.”

His words comforted Calum a bit but he still felt severely out of place. He could only hope that he’d feel more at ease as time passed. “Thank you, sir.” He managed, trying not to show just how scared he was by this sudden change. 

Donald let out a booming laugh as he clapped Calum on the shoulder. “There’ll be none of that here, boy.” He chuckled. “You can just call me Don or Uncle Don. I know we haven’t spent any real time together until now but we’re still family.”

Donald’s infectiously merry mood made Calum relax ever so slightly; he felt somewhat less nervous as he was driven through the countryside to the farm where he’d be living for the foreseeable future.

The rolling hills, quiet roads, and quaint little houses and shops were about as different to the London landscape as he could ever imagine. Despite the stark contrasts to everything Calum was familiar with, this little corner of Yorkshire seemed to have an undeniable charm of its own. 

The car ride was filled with pleasant conversation, further relaxing Calum’s nerves as he got to know his uncle a bit better. He listened to various stories about his aunt and three cousins as they drove. By the time they finally pulled up at the farm, Calum was quite excited to meet the rest of his family and acquaint himself with his new home. 

The farm and it’s surrounding green hills and fields looked like something from a postcard. Having seen nothing but London’s grey skyline and smoggy streets, the openness of his new home felt just as exciting as it did daunting.

“Calum!” His Aunt May grinned as she appeared in the doorway, her greying hair tied back in a neat bun so that it didn’t fall into her lightly lined face. “I hope your uncle didn’t bore you too much on the drive over here! He doesn’t know when to shut up, y’know.” She gave a tiny laugh, shooting Don a fond glance as she tottered down the path. 

“I wasn’t bored at all.” Calum smiled, “I liked hearing his stories. It took my mind off everything a bit.”

May gave Calum a sympathetic smile as she wrapped him in a warm hug. “It must be quite a big change, moving all the way out here. I know you’ll settle in just fine, though. Your cousins are excited to show you around once you’re all unpacked.”

Don pecked a kiss to his wife’s cheek before grabbing Calum’s suitcase and heading towards the house. 

“Come on, love,” May muttered hastily ushering Calum towards the house as well. “Let's get you settled in.”

***

After meeting his cousins; Elaine, Wendy and Matthew, Calum had joined the family for a delicious lunch before his uncle had insisted that he come out and meet some of the other people that work for them.

Elaine had accompanied them for the tour of the grounds and her father had made a passing joke about someone named Ashton, who Calum could only assume Elaine had taken a fancy to.

It was late in the afternoon when Calum finally met the elusive Ashton. He’d been out plowing a field for most of the day, according to one of the older farmhands, whose name Calum had already forgotten.

Calum’s suspicions about his eldest cousin’s attractions to this boy were confirmed by her suddenly shy demeanor as Ashton trudged towards them. It wasn’t surprising that a sixteen-year-old girl would be attracted to someone like this. He was tall with broad shoulders and a very handsome face. He turned out to be very friendly as well. Offering to show Calum around the local village now that he’d finished his work for the day.

Don approved of the suggestion, seemingly happy for Calum to become friends with one of his favourite workers. 

Whilst Ashton got cleaned up, Calum spent a little time with the farm dogs. He’d never been able to have a pet of his own back in London, so it was nice to know he’d get the experience here. Elaine stayed with him, opting to be some silent company as he tried to soak in his new surroundings.

Once Ashton was ready he led the way into the village using a shortcut across the field. “I’d like to introduce you to a couple of my best friends, if you’re up for it.” The older boy said cheerfully. “I think you’ll like them a lot. They’re a bit stupid sometimes, but you’ll get used to them!”

In the back of his mind, Calum thought that Ashton hadn’t known him for nearly long enough to know what or who he’d like, but the farmhand had a cheerful and sweet nature that it made it difficult not to trust his judgment. “Even stupid friends would be better than what I had back home.” He replied with a humourless laugh. “No one seemed to want to know me, let alone be my friend so…”

An annoyed expression crossed Ashton’s handsome face for a moment. “Well, people like that aren’t worth knowing, anyway!” He huffed. “I hope you’ll have better luck here.”

It didn’t take long to reach the village. Just like the farm, the village was picturesque. Calum was sort of bemused by how quiet and lazy it all seemed. Everywhere you turned in London, there were signs that a war was happening; posters on the walls, soldiers, wreckages left behind by bombs… Here, the only indications that World War 2 was in progress were the headlines of the newspapers on display in the shops and the ration coupons in people’s hands. 

“I bet this is all strange to you, huh?” Ashton asked as he took in the bemused expression on Calum’s face. “I’m sure it’ll feel a bit more like home later, when the spitfires take off from the airbase.”

Such a comment could easily be perceived as insensitive, but yet again Ashton’s natural charm made it impossible to think he could ever actually mean to sound that way.

As they made their way along the quiet streets, Calum noticed the odd person staring at him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar experience but it wasn’t what he needed right now. He slumped his shoulders, trying to make himself small enough that Ashton could hide him from unfriendly eyes.

Unfortunately, the older boy didn’t seem to notice that anything was happening, he was too busy droning on about the nearby airbase and the fighter planes that it was currently home to.

“Hi, Ash!” A cheerful voice echoed through the fog filling Calum’s mind. “Are you free to spend some time with me and Mike tonight or are you busy with Jane again?”

The voice belonged to a lanky blonde boy with pretty blue eyes. He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily at Ashton before turning his attention to Calum. “Oh hello! You must be Farmer Hood’s nephew. I’m Luke Hemmings, Ashton's best and most handsome friend.” 

Calum shook the newcomer’s hand, taking heart in his friendly tone and the lack of suspicion in his eyes. He introduced himself nervously, feeling the need to impress Ashton’s friends if he wants to have any chance of calling them his own friends one day.

“Come on, Michael will be finishing his shift in the shop in a minute, I suppose you should meet him really,” Luke smirked, wrapping a pale skinny arm around Calum’s shoulders. “We tried to get rid of him but he just keeps clinging on to us, doesn’t he, Ash?”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Don’t be mean, Luke!” He reprimanded. “Michael’s a hell of a lot less annoying than you most of the time.”

Calum couldn’t help but laugh at their friendly banter. He’d never had this sort of friendship with anyone and he could only hope that these boys would finally give him that chance.

The little group of boys made their way past the village green on to the main street. Luke and Ashton continued to offer friendly and fun conversation which successfully distracted Calum from any lingering glances from passersby.

“Ah, he’s already finished for the day!” Luke grinned as they neared the little grocery store. 

Calum followed Luke’s gaze to a boy standing next to the entrance to the shop. He was a little bit taller than Calum with dark blonde hair and pale skin. When he glanced up from the ground to greet his friends, Calum felt his breath catch in his throat. This had to be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. 

Michael smiled, waving at his friends as he pushed away from the wall and made his way over to them. “Afternoon, idiots.” He giggled, nudging Luke in the shoulder and earning himself a hair ruffle from Ashton. When his gaze met Calum's, his cheeks turned a pale pink and his eyes seemed to sparkle with some emotion that Calum couldn’t quite place. He seemed suddenly shy which judging by the confused expressions on Luke and Ashton’s faces, was pretty out of character for their friend.

“I’m Michael.” The blonde smiled bashfully, awkwardly offering him a hand to shake.

Calum shook it, trying to hide his own nerves. This was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. He was already going to find it hard to fit in here, his skin colour made sure of that. What he absolutely didn’t want, was these forbidden feelings toward another boy. He’d had them once or twice before, a little spark of attraction for a boy or man he’d pass in the street, but never like this, never to the extent where he was suddenly so aware of how hard his heart was beating that he was sure it could burst right out of his chest.

He had to find a way to control this, he wanted to be normal and fit in. Calum just wanted to make friends, he absolutely didn’t want to end up like the milkman’s son back in London. He shivered at the memory of how his whole street had gossiped about how young Tommy had been caught kissing another boy. He’d been disowned by his family after that and Calum hadn’t heard anything of him since. There’s no way he wanted to end up like that; he had to get his act together.

***

The news that Jane had broken up with Ashton and started seeing a fighter pilot from the nearby airbase, had spread quickly through the village. It made an already difficult situation even more horrid for Ashton. He couldn’t leave his house without people whispering behind their hands to each other or offering him sympathetic glances that he didn’t want.

Calum had been the one to suggest getting out of the village, riding their bikes out into the countryside and taking a little picnic. He’d asked his aunt and uncle for some spare food from the farm and a little day trip was quickly arranged.

On the chosen day, Michael, Luke and Ashton headed up to the farm to collect Calum en-route to the spot they always used to go as kids. 

When they arrived, Mrs Hood met them at the door, informing them that Calum had to help her husband mend a fence that morning, so he was running a little bit late.

She offered them some bread and cheese for their little trip and helped Ashton and Luke pack it into their bags. 

They sat at the table for a little while before Mrs. Hood suggested that one of the boys go and see if Calum’s almost ready. 

Michael volunteered, trying not to sound too eager. He’d gotten a lot of practice at that lately, although the slightly perplexed look on Calum’s aunt’s face told him that he probably needed a little more. 

He was already halfway up the stairs before he realized that he had no idea which bedroom was Calum’s. In fact, he’d never been to this floor of the farmhouse before. Most of his visits here were to meet Ashton, therefore he’d had very few reasons to enter the house at all. 

There were several doors leading off the landing, all but one of them were closed. The open door led to the bathroom; Michael could tell by the garish green wall tiles visible through the gap.

It was entirely possible that one of the Hood girls or Matthew were in their own rooms so Michael didn’t want to be a pest and knock on all of the doors. Instead, he called out Calum’s name, not too loudly but clear enough that someone in any of the rooms would hear him. 

It only took a second for the closest door to open, revealing a smiling and half-naked Calum. “Michael!” He greeted, opening his bedroom door a little wider. “Sorry I’m running a bit late, I had to help Uncle Don fix a fence out in one of the fields. Come in for a minute, I just need to grab a clean shirt.”

It took Michael a moment or two to work up the courage to follow Calum into his bedroom. It felt sort of naughty and forbidden to be alone with someone he had these feelings for. He’d never dream of acting on them of course, but it still felt like he shouldn’t be there, especially when Calum was topless, unwittingly showing Michael his muscly chest and arms. 

As strange as it felt to be alone with Calum in his room, Michael supposed that standing out on the landing would be fairly suspicious and so he finally forced his legs to move and follow Calum into the bedroom.

Even though the slightly younger boy had only inhabited this room for a few weeks, he’d already made it very much his own. Sure, the walls were still a neutral cream colour but Calum had filled them with postcards, pictures and photographs. Most of them were black and white, of course, but they still added a distinct character to the room.

To try and distract himself from looking at Calum’s body, Michael drifted over to examine a little cluster of postcards pinned up near the younger boy’s bed. They each depicted a different London landmark and Michael found himself staring at them dreamily.

“They remind me of home.” Calum said, breaking the silence as he joined Michael in looking at the postcards. ���I know it’s probably quite childish to get homesick but I sort of miss London, even now when it’s so dangerous.”

“I don’t think it’s childish.” Michael reassured his friend. “I think it’s perfectly natural to miss home and your family. Especially when your home is somewhere as exciting as London!” He kept his gaze on the postcards, still not daring to look at Calum.

“When the war’s over and I move back there, you should come to visit!” Calum offered excitedly. “I’ll show you all the sights and take you to the best places to eat!”

Michael smiled as he finally forced himself to meet Calum’s gaze. “Would you take me see Buckingham Palace?” He asked, unsurprised at how shy he sounded all of a sudden. “I bet it’s so beautiful!”

Calum nodded. “Of course, what kind of tour guide would I be if I didn’t take you there?” 

Shrugging, Michael moved his gaze to a little framed photograph on Calum’s dresser. “Is that your family?” He asked, berating himself for asking such a stupid question.

Calum followed his gaze. “Yeah, it was taken a few years back. I’m the podgy kid right there.” He giggled pointing at the little boy in the picture. “That’s my older sister, Mali. She joined the WAAF last year, even though women don’t have to sign up, she wanted to do her bit.” His voice sounded a bit sad and Michael wondered what it must be like to have a sibling that you’re so close to. He’d thought about it before when Luke talked about his brothers, but Ben and Jack had always teased their younger sibling, and Michael had never quite understood their bond with Luke. Calum’s and Mali’s relationship seemed very different from the Hemmings siblings. In the few stories Calum had mentioned his sister in, he’d said her name so fondly, like he was describing his best friend.

***

As the little group of friends rode out of the village, Michael was pleased to see some of the tension slip from his eldest friend’s face. He could only hope that he’d see a smile there by the end of the day.

The further they got from the village the more relaxed Ashton became, although the weight of his troubles was clear by the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly more prominent cheekbones from where he’d lost weight from his face.

They rode their bikes for over an hour until they reached a pretty little spot near to a brook. Michael, Luke, and Ashton had come to this spot many times growing up, racing sticks under the nearby rickety bridge, and paddling in the clear water. 

It was clear by the look of wonder on Calum’s face, though, that the city boy had never really had anywhere like this to play. 

Michael couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from his new friend as they parked up their bikes next to the bridge and started to unpack the food. He had grown to like Calum very quickly. Their friendship had seemed to blossom more and more with every day they spent together.

Calum was extremely interesting; his stories about London and general city life captivated Michael for hours on end, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t just his curiosity about places he’d never visited before that made Calum appealing to him. The way that the slightly younger boy’s face would creep into his mind when he was alone in bed was enough to let Michael know that he was attracted to Calum in ways that he shouldn’t be. 

Even though he knew he’d have to find a way to get past his feelings, Michael found it incredibly difficult, especially on days like today when Calum looked so beautiful.

As Ashton and Luke laid out the picnic, Michael kicked off his shoes and gestured for Calum to do the same. “Come on, the water’s always so nice and cool!” He giggled as he stepped into the shallow brook. 

Calum smiled wistfully as he took off his own shoes and followed his friend into the water. He gasped slightly at the change in temperature and Michael giggled to hide the spark of interest that ignited in the pit of his stomach. 

“So you all come out here a lot then?” Calum asked, aiming his question primarily at Michael seeing as he was the closest. “I would have practically lived out here when I was a kid if I’d grown up here.”

Michael nodded. “We used to come out here at least once a week during the summer. Our parents used to bring us here when we were little so we’ve always known the way. It’s a popular picnic spot.”

Calum listened intently to various stories that Michael recounted of visiting this spot as a kid and he had to try not to melt every time Calum laughed or even grinned at something he said. 

Once Ashton and Luke had the picnic all set up, they shouted for the two boys to join them. 

As they all settled down together, Michael tried to concentrate on what Luke was saying about the letters his parents had received from his brothers. Having been friends with Luke for almost as long as he can remember, Michael was obviously invested in the older Hemmings’ brothers safety. Ben and Jack meant a whole lot to Luke and by extension, Michael, too. He couldn’t quite get Calum out of his brain, though. He pretended to be extremely interested in a shiny stone he’d scooped up from the brook, turning it over and over in his hands whilst he focused on the bare skin of Calum’s crossed legs, poking out from beneath his shorts. He was only a couple of months younger than Michael, which meant he wasn’t far off turning 16. Puberty was obviously being much kinder to Calum than it was to Michaael. The slightly older boy had gotten nothing but acne and a messy smattering of blonde hair over his legs, chest and under his arms, whereas Calum had experienced none of that. He was starting to get broader and stronger. Sure, the farm work he’d been doing would have helped with that but his face was getting less soft and his features were becoming more defined. It was easy for Michael to see flashes of the man Calum was destined to become and he couldn’t shake the image from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

“... And Jack’s still seeing that girl so mum is convinced they’ll get engaged soon.” Luke mumbled around a mouthful of bread and cheese. 

Ashton dropped his gaze miserably and Calum swatted the youngest friend across his arm for being so mindless.

It took a moment for Luke to realise what he’d done to earn such a punishment. When it hit, though, he looked truly shaken by his own stupidity. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ash… I-”

“It’s okay.” Ashton shrugged, although his deflated posture and miserable expression said otherwise. “I’m pleased for Jack, I really am.”

The other three boys exchanged a desperate look, hoping that someone could save the situation. Before any of them could come up with anything, Ashton let out a tiny laugh. “You boys are stupid as hell, all three of you.” Despite his harsh words, there was a fondness in his tone that was absolutely undeniable. He confirmed his love for friends by adding “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

November 1940

Michael’s 16th birthday had been pretty uneventful so far. 

His dad had been his usual, miserable, hungover self at breakfast, barely acknowledging his son, let alone wishing him a happy birthday. His mum had knitted him a new jumper, green to bring out the colour in his eyes. 

Mr Robertson had been particularly nice to him, offering him a longer lunch break, which he’d spent with Calum since he’d timed his delivery perfectly. That had been the highlight of his day so far, huddled in the back room of the shop eating a slice of cake that Calum’s aunt had baked. They’d made fun of Ashton still being oblivious to Elaine’s affections for him and confirmed their plan for a little celebration at Ashton’s house in the evening.

The afternoon had passed pretty quickly after that and before he knew it, Michael was heading home. He needed to pack an overnight bag since he was staying over at Ashton’s later. His mum worked as a barmaid at the village pub so the boys would have the house to themselves and they wanted to enjoy that rare freedom as fully as possible. Therefore they’d all planned to stay there for the night. 

Michael packed some of his warmest clothes and headed out, only sparing a moment to kiss his mother goodbye and scratch Sammy behind the ear before disappearing out into the chilly evening.

Ashton and Calum had convinced Farmer Hood to let them leave work a little early for the occasion, promising to make up the hour by working over for the rest of the week. Michael was incredibly grateful to them and Luke, feeling an almost overwhelming fondness for them as he jogged towards their meeting place.

Sure enough, all three boys were huddled together at the far end of the village green, waiting for him. They smiled as he approached, each of them ruffling his hair or punching his shoulder playfully as soon as he reached them. 

“Are you ready for your little birthday party?” Ashton asked cheerfully as he led the way to his house. 

Michael nodded enthusiastically drawing a chuckle from each of his friends.

“We clubbed together to get you a little something.” Luke announced, earning himself a nudge from Calum.

“It was meant to be a surprise, Luke!” He huffed irritably. “He was meant to think we hadn’t brought him anything!” In the dying light, Michael managed to hide his fond gaze from Calum beneath the wooly hat Mr Robertson had gifted to him earlier. His feelings for the slightly younger boy seemed to grow more by the day and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could conceal them successfully.

When they reached Ashton’s house, Michael kicked off his shoes and followed his friends into the little kitchen. “Mum had been cooking before she left for work so it’s quite warm in here.” Ashton said, taking a seat at the table that had already been filled with some special treats. 

“I hope you like apple pie.” Calum laughed. “My aunt insisted on making one of you.”

“Well whatever he doesn’t eat, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get wasted!” Luke giggled loudly as he slipped into the seat next to Ashton.

***

After they’d eaten, Luke, Calum and Ashton presented Michael with a little bundle of gifts which included a small bar of chocolate, socks and a shiny new bell for his bike. He couldn’t find the right words to thank them, knowing that none of them had much money and the fact that they’d spent any of it on him made his heart feel so full.

They spent a little while talking in Ashton’s kitchen until Luke suggested playing some parlour games. The youngest friend had always been terrible at charades and ‘who am I?’, so unsurprisingly the brief games descended into fits of giggles in a matter of a few minutes.

After a few failed attempts at completing a game, Calum finally declared it hopeless and curled up next to the fire instead. His lips were still curved in a pretty smile as he patted the spot next to him. Michael knew that his friend could be indicating to any of the other boys to sit next to him but the birthday boy chose to believe that the gesture was for him. 

Luke and Ashton probably didn’t even notice the way Calum’s eyes sparkled in the firelight, or the way that a muscle twitches in his jaw when he’s nervous or tense. They were all things that Michael shouldn’t be noticing either but little ‘Calum’ things like that occupied his brain more than he cared to mention.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna say it…” Luke announced as he dropped to the ground next to Michael.

The blonde’s stomach lurched as he realised he was staring at Calum. Luke had obviously noticed and now his birthday was destined to be the worst day of his life because the three most important people in the world to him were going to hate him...

“I know I’m not the only one that’s noticed, but you two are hopeless so I’m going to be the one to get it out in the open.” Luke continued, pointing an accusing finger at Michael and then Calum.

Michael’s brain wouldn’t work fast enough. He needed to shut Luke down, if he put into words, what Michael knew in his heart, it’d all be over. His brain wouldn’t work though, his mouth felt dry and no words would force themselves from his throat. 

“Elaine has been all over Ashton since forever, and it’s been long enough since Jane now.” The youngest friend shrugged, turning his attention to Ashton who seemed to have been silently bracing himself for this conversation. 

Michael felt his body relax as he let out a steady breath. He’d never felt so relieved to have the subject of Ashton’s love life brought up before. 

The eldest friend sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and furrowing his eyebrows as though he was trying to block out Luke’s words. “She’s not interested in me, Luke.” He said. “Elaine could have pretty much whoever she wants, why would she even look twice at me?”

“Because she’s been in love with you since she was a little kid.” Calum chuckled. “I’ve only been here for a few months and even I’ve picked up on that.” 

Michael was momentarily distracted by the beautiful sound of Calum’s laugh but he managed to bring his focus back to the conversation to add a simple comment. “Calum’s right, Elaine has always had eyes for you, Ash. You’re the only one that’s never noticed.”

The brunette boy slumped back, propping himself up in his panic elbows. “You’re just saying that because you think I need a girlfriend…” Ashton huffed, although his eyes had started to glaze over a little like he was daydreaming. 

Smirking knowingly, Luke nudged his friend’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t lie to you, Ashy boy.” He insisted. “You’re just wasting time by convincing yourself that she doesn’t want you. You could be using that time to woo her.” 

Michael could tell that Ashton was thinking about it carefully. He obviously thought Elaine was pretty and they’d always had a lot in common, it seemed crazy that they weren’t already an item. 

“I don’t know…” Ashton sighed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “After Jane, I just-”

“Forget her!” Calum scoffed, reaching over to nuge Ashton’s leg. “She was never right for you and you shouldn’t let her ruin your chances with Elaine. You have a chance to be happy with someone who really likes you, Ash.” He explained, his expression and tone serious enough to pull everyone’s full attention.

 Ashton dropped his gaze, curling in on himself a bit. He seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a long moment, during which everyone else stayed silent, giving him the time he needed to process his feelings.

Michael watched his eldest friend for a moment, but he could feel Calum’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. His heart seemed to beat out a hard rhythm in his chest as he summoned the courage to meet Calum’s eyes. The slightly younger boy’s expression had softened a little bit, but there was something burning deep in his eyes that Michael couldn’t ignore. It would have been impossible to explain to anyone else, but Michael just knew that the ‘something’ was a hidden meaning in the speech he’d just given to Ashton. In that moment, Michael realised that his friend’s words were not only meant to give their older friend the courage to finally ask out Elaine, but also to let Michael know that he also had the chance to be with someone who really liked him.

***

A couple of hours later, Ashton and Luke claimed the eldest friend’s bed for themselves, falling asleep almost immediately after snuggling into the warm blankets. 

Even though their evening had been filled with a lot more fun after they’d convinced Ashton to go for it with Elaine, Michael’s mind had been constantly working over Calum’s ‘hidden message’ to him. He was convinced that’s what it'd been and his head was spinning from it. 

His mind was racing too much to sleep and so he’d started a whispered rambling conversation with Calum about how he wanted to learn to make things for his loved ones for Christmas. “... I'm not really good at anything, though.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to buy everyone something.”

Calum let out a quiet giggle as he snuggled further into his blankets. “I’ll settle for a promise that you’ll carry on being my friend.”

The room was pretty dark but Calum was lying close enough that Michael could make out the younger boy’s sad eyes, despite the faint smile that was still curving the corners of his lips. “Why would I ever stop being your friend?” He asked in a hushed voice, shuffling a bit closer to Calum.

Calum shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve just never really had friends like you, Luke and Ashton before.” He replied. “You're the first people who’ve ever really given me the time of day, besides my family.”

A frown creased Michael’s face as he automatically reached out to his friend under the blankets, curling his fingers gently around Calum’s lower arm. “Why on earth wouldn’t people give you their time?” He asked, genuinely confused as to how anyone couldn’t be instantly in love with Calum when they met him. “You’re one of the funniest, kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. I feel like you’ve been my friend for as long as Ash and Luke have.”

A little of the worry that had been etched into Calum’s handsome features disappeared at Michael’s words and his smile looked a little more natural now. “Really?” He asked, his voice barely a while as he covered Michael’s hand with his own. “Most people just see the colour of my skin and automatically assume I’m nothing like them before running in the opposite direction.”

Two opposing but equally powerful feelings erupted inside Michael at once. Nervous but excited butterflies burst into life in his tummy at the feeling of Calum’s fingers curling around his hand, yet a searing anger burned in his chest at the thought of anyone disrespecting Calum because of the colour of his skin. “Well that’s their loss.” Michael whispered, shuffling closer to Calum so that he could pull him into a hug. “I wouldn’t change one bit of you.”

Calum let out a relieved chuckle as he nestled into the hug. Michael tried to enjoy the close physical connection without worrying too much about how he should not be feeling those butterflies in his tummy.

“You’re a good friend, Mike.” Calum whispered. His breath ghosted over Michael’s cheek as he spoke but the slightly older boy managed to control the shiver it caused. “It’s been a difficult few weeks with the bombings in London, it’s like I’m constantly worried I’ll get letter saying that my mum’s been injured or worse…”

Michael stroked Calum’s back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He couldn’t imagine how scared his friend must be at the moment. The blitz was rumbling on, wreaking havoc in most of Britain’s major cities but London was by far bearing the worst of it. “I really hope the air strikes stop soon.” Michael uttered, not really knowing what else he could say. “You know I’m always here if you need to talk or anything.”

Tightening his hold around Michael, Calum places a kiss on the pale boy’s cheek before pulling back a little. “I know, and I appreciate it a lot.” He replied. “I’m always here for you too, Mike.”

The younger boy closed his eyes and Michael could just make out a faint smile on his lips as he whispered goodnight. Michael couldn’t help but notice that Calum didn’t remove his arm that was draped over him, it made the blonde boy melt a little, he loved being this close to Calum. He knew that he shouldn’t live it, he shouldn’t feel this excitement bubbling inside of him and his skin shouldn’t tingle whenever his newest friend made physical contact with him. Michael was sure he was getting quite good at hiding all of that but right here and now, I’m the darkness of Ashton’s bedroom, he allowed those feelings to flow freely through him. 

January 1941

The papers were saying it was the worst snowfall since 1888. Life in the village had all but ground to halt because of it. 

Calum shouldn’t have been surprised, of course. He’d been looking forward to a little birthday get together with his friends since Christmas had been sort of a write-off. Michael had been forced to stay home to play happy families with his alcoholic father whilst Luke had been carted off to visit his grandparents for the festive season. Luckily, Ashton had still been around, in fact he’d spent a fair bit of his spare time at the farm since Luke had called him out about his feelings for Elaine. Calum wasn’t complaining, he liked spending time with Ashton, even when he wasn’t the main reason for the older boy’s presence. 

Despite his increased interest in Elaine, Ashton still hadn’t actually asked her out yet and it was starting to get tedious. As much Calum enjoyed his friend staying behind after work and visiting on Sundays, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the blatant flirting and almost confessions. If something didn’t give soon, Calum was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Not today, though. January 25th was Calum’s day. His first birthday since moving to Yorkshire and he was determined to enjoy every second of it, even if the weather had decided to betray him.

He’d enjoyed a nice day so far, his aunt and uncle had treated him just as they did their own children on their birthdays. They’d given him a nice breakfast and some little gifts before assuring him that Don and Elaine could manage feeding all the animals on their own for one day. 

Having been given the day off, Calum spent his time preparing for the little gathering he’d planned with his friends. Wendy helped him clean the parlour whilst Mrs Hood made what party food she could from the farm’s leftovers. 

All in all, Calum couldn’t really be happier given the circumstances of his 16th birthday. He’d already received letters and gifts from both of his parents and his sister so he was in generally high spirits. 

As the time that his friends should have arrived came and went, Calum’s good mood faltered. He knew the bad weather meant that it might take them longer to get to the farm but he never once thought that it would deter them altogether.

Around an hour after his friends were due to arrive, Wendy and Elaine came into the parlour with sympathetic looks on their faces as they invited him to join them in the main sitting room. “We can play board games!” The youngest girl chimed, gripping Calum’s hand and gesturing towards the door. 

Calum tried to smile but his heart felt heavy. He’d been looking forward to tonight all week. As much as he loved the company of his family, there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending time with his friends. “That sounds nice.” He replied, forcing himself to stand up. “We should probably eat all of this food your mum made too…”

Wendy nodded excitedly grabbing a plate of the little cakes she’d helped to make earlier in the day. A tiny giggle escaped Calum as he picked up a couple more of the plates. Elaine gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze before she followed his lead and gathered up the rest of the food laying on the coffee table. 

The little group hadn’t quite made it out of the room before the doorbell rang. Calum almost dropped the plates he was holding in his newly ignited excitement.

Elaine laughed as she placed the food she’d been holding back on the table before heading off to answer the door. Calum did the same, following his cousin like an excited puppy. 

When he reached the hallway, his heart felt suddenly ten times happier as his eyes landed in a very windswept and cold looking Michael.

“You made it!” Calum exclaimed. “I was worried you’d all forgotten or something.”

Michael gave his friend an apologetic smile as he shuffled out of his coat and pulled off his gloves, scarf and hat before hanging them up on the hooks near the front door. “We’d never forget your birthday!” He assured Calum. “I’m sorry it’s only me that was able to make it here, though.” His green eyes looked suddenly very sad and Calum had an overwhelming urge to do whatever it might take to make them shine happily again. “Ashton’s grandparents arrived for impromptu visit and Luke’s come down with a really bad cold so…”

“That’s okay!” Calum cut in. Even though he was disappointed by Ashton’s and Luke’s absence, having Michael there on his birthday meant the most to him. He’d developed a deep bond with the blonde boy in the few short months since he’d moved to the farm. They shared a lot of the same interests and since their little heart-to-heart on Michael’s birthday, their friendship had only blossomed further. “We have food in the parlour and aunt May lit the fire in there for us too!”

Michael’s smile became softer and more genuine as he followed Calum to the parlour. “Ash and Luke are really sorry they couldn’t make it, they’ve sent presents and told me to wish you a happy birthday from them.”

“Ah they didn’t have to do any of that!” Calum insisted, closing the parlour door before gesturing for Michael to take a seat. 

The blonde dropped into one of the cushioned chairs before holding out a little paper bag that Calum hadn’t even noticed his friend had been carrying. 

“I’ll look at them later.” Calum said, setting the bag down near the coffee table, “let’s eat first! I’m starving!”

Michael giggled, his emerald eyes sparkling prettily as he nodded. “Me too! It took me so much longer to walk here through all of that snow!”

Calum patted his friend’s arm affectionately before handing him a sandwich. “Here eat this!”

Accepting the sandwich gratefully, Michael took a bite. “Your aunt makes the best sandwiches.” He mumbled as soon as he swallowed.

Calum couldn’t really disagree with that. Then again, he didn’t often disagree with anything Michael said or did.

***

After a couple of hours of fun conversation with Michael, Calum’s disappointment at only having one friend turn up to his birthday party had long since fizzled away. 

Michael was like a ball of sunshine. He just radiated love and happiness, two things that Calum was quickly becoming addicted to. He found himself staring at the blonde boy dreamily as Michael rattled on about gossip he’d heard in the shop. “...And apparently Mr Greenwell won’t even talk to her now, so that must make things very difficult seeing as they live right next door to each other!”

The way that Michael’s eyes gleamed excitedly at the idle gossip, made Calum’s heart melt. If Michael was a girl, he’s sure he’d have kissed her by now. The fleeting notion brought butterflies to Calum’s tummy as his gaze drifted to Michael’s lips. If he was entirely honest with himself, he wanted to kiss Michael right now. He didn’t care if they were both boys. Why should such a silly detail like that stop Calum from following his heart.

“I’m sorry.” Michael giggled, blushing a little as he realised he’d been talking for over ten minutes, barely pausing for a breath. “You probably don’t care about stupid village gossip…”

“Of course I do!” Calum lied. He’d never been good at lying but if a tiny fib would save Michael any embarrassment, Calum would definitely do it. “Living out here in the farm, I don’t get to hear much about what’s going on in the village. I rely on you to keep me up to date!”

Michael smiled at the compliment before shuffling a little closer to Calum. The two of them were sitting cross legged by the fire, forgoing the comfort of the armchairs in order to be as warm as possible. At least that’s the reason Calum would admit to himself. Secretly, he thought that the tiny contact of Michael’s knee brushing against his own was well worth the pins and needles in his feet and lower legs.

“Well now that your village news bulletin is over, can I give you your birthday present from me?” Michael asked, his tone suddenly adopting a shyness that only Calum alone seemed to be privy to.

The slightly younger boy nodded trying not to let the forbidden thoughts about what he’d really like his present from Michael to be. 

The blonde reached past Calum to grab the paper bag that was still sitting next to the armchair where he’d left it earlier. As Michael rummaged around to find the present that was for him, Calum automatically placed a hand on his friend’s back and immediately regretted it when he had to try and ignore the tiny tremor that ran through Michael before he looked back, meeting Calum’s gaze with slightly startled eyes.

Not being able to bring himself to apologise, Calum simply removed his hand and asked “did you find it?” 

Michael hummed his confirmation but the blush in his cheeks told Calum that he was still thinking about that fleeting touch. If he was being entirely honest with himself, Calum couldn’t shake off the fuzzy feeling it had given him either.

“So…” Michael said, finally sitting back next to Calum, a little closer than he was before, but still not quite as close as the younger boy would have liked. “I wish I could have made something for you but I’m terrible at everything so I got you these instead.” He pulled out a tiny paper bag, that bashful, slightly scared look back on his pretty face. 

Calum knew as soon as he took the bag from Michael what was inside it and the thought almost brought a tear to his eye. “Cola cubes?” He asked in a shocked whisper. 

Nodding sort of proudly, Michael gestured for his friend to open the bag. “I know they’re your favourites.” He clarified, fiddling sort of nervously with a strand of his hair. 

Calum opened the bag and licked his lips as the familiar but increasingly rare, sugary smell hit him. Despite his almost overwhelming urge to take one of the sweets, he immediately closed the bag and held it out to Michael. “I can’t accept these…” He said quietly, “you must have used your sweets rations for the week on them.” 

Michael’s face took on a hurt expression as he shrugged. “Yeah but they were worth it…” he admitted in a reserved tone. “I’d rather have spent the rations on cola cubes for you than anything for myself.” 

The sincerity in Michael’s voice turned Calum’s insides into jelly. He really wasn't sure how much longer he could resist doing something he knew he should never do. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met you know.” He said, a tiny giggle punctuating his sentence. 

The light blush in Michael’s cheeks deepened and he rapidly buried his face in Calum’s shoulder like a shy child. “I just like doing nice things for my friends.” He mumbled, although Calum was too busy fighting the urge to kiss the top of the blonde’s head to take too much notice of what he was saying. “Especially you.” Michael added, chancing a glance at Calum through his lashes. 

Calum was fighting his urges with every ounce of strength he had as he forced a smile and gently backed away so that he could stand up. “At least let me share them with you.” He insisted, offering Michael a hand to help him to his feet. “Let’s eat them in my room because I actually have a gift for you as well.”

Michael looked shocked but followed Calum out into the hallway and up the stairs. They remained silent but their smiles never faltered until Calum’s bedroom door was closed and his little room was filled with soft lamplight. Only then did a tension settle over the two of them, it felt suddenly romantic as Michael perched on the edge of Calum’s bed, glancing up at him expectantly but with a slight fear lurking the depths of his emerald eyes. Perhaps Calum was the only other person in the world who could understand that mixture of emotions in that moment because he couldn’t think of any other way to describe his own feelings. 

There was definitely a nervous anticipation surrounding them as Calum tried to decide whether his gift to Michael was a little too on the romantic side. He couldn’t really back out of it now though, not when Michael was eagerly awaiting a gift. 

Trying to shake off his nerves, Calum crosses the room to where he’d hidden the gift behind his lamp. “I wanted to give you this on your birthday, but I never really got a chance and then we didn’t see each other much over Christmas so…”

“It’s okay Calum.” Michael smiled softly. “I know I’ll love it, whatever it is!” He looked so soft in the dim light that Calum almost forgot what he was doing. “Besides, it’s always nice to get gifts when it’s not even a special occasion!”

Calum couldn’t really argue with that and so he picked up the little postcard that he had stashed behind his lamp a couple of months ago and took a deep breath. “I know that this caught your eye the first time you saw my postcards and so I wanted you to have it.” 

All of the fear and nerves vanished from Michael’s face as he took the post card and stared down delightedly at the picture of Buckingham Palace. “Calum!” He gasped, as the younger boy sat down beside him.. “You don't have to give me this…”

“I want to.” Calum replied with a slight giggle. “You seemed to really like it and I wrote you a little message on the back.” He gently slid the postcard from Michael’s grip, trying not to pay attention to the way his fingers tingled when they brushed against Michael’s. He turned the card over to display his neat handwriting. 

It’s a date. C x

Michael read the incredibly short message out loud before tilting his head to meet Calum’s gaze. “Cal… this is…”

Calum couldn’t quite read Michael’s tone. He could be choked up because he thought it was a thoughtful gift but he could just as easily be trying to Calum that this was perhaps a step beyond friendship that he didn’t want to take. “It’s too sappy isn’t it?” He asked, trying not to sound too hurt or disappointed. “I shouldn’t have wrote that message, especially not with a kiss on the end it’s too…”

“It’s perfect.” Michael interjected, his tone quiet but incredibly certain as he leaned a touch closer to Calum. “I'm really excited for our London date after the war is over.” He smiled, although it faded from his face as his gaze dropped to land on Calum’s lips. “And the kiss is a cute touch…”

Michael’s face seemed to drift impossibly closer to Calum’s and their lips were almost touching before either of them registered what was happening. When reality hit, Michael paused, seemingly frozen in fear, or perhaps giving Calum the time to back up if he wanted to. 

After a short moment, the feeling of Michael’s breath ghosting over his lips spurred Calum into action. It was clear that Michael wanted the same thing he did but he was too scared to go through with it. Calum would have to make the move. He placed his trembling hand on Michael’s cheek and stroked over his pale skin with the pad of his thumb. “Michael.” He whispered. “Kissing you is I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

The blonde nodded before melting into Calum’s touch as his eyes drifted closed and Calum finally closed the gap between his own lips and Michael’s. 

The kiss was absolutely everything Calum had ever imagined it to be. Michael felt soft and pliant against him and their lips moved in perfect synchronisation. There was no way of telling how long it lasted but Calum was panting for air by the time they broke apart. 

Michael’s cheeks were so flushed as he pulled away, his eyes sparkling with some emotion that Calum couldn’t quite identify. It was definitely a positive one though. “I’ve wanted that since you first moved here, too.” Michael admitted. “I know it’s wrong but…”

Calum shook his head. His heart was still racing from one of the best moments of his whole life and he didn’t want to ruin it by talking about the very reason he hadn’t made it happen sooner. “I don’t care about that.” He said quietly. “I don’t know how anything that can feel this amazing could be wrong.” 

Michael giggled and shuffled closer to curl into Calum’s side. “You’re right.” He agreed, resting his head on Calum’s shoulder. “Do you fancy doing it again?”

Calum chuckled before placing a kiss into Michael’s hair. “Definitely, but i need to catch my breath first.” He replied, stroking Micheal's arm gently over the sleeve of his thick jumper. “Besides, I love holding you like this.”

In way of a silent agreement, Michael nestled further into Calum’s hold. “Good because I could happily stay like this forever.”

Malum masterlist

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[let-it-raines]

Hello! Don’t know if you’re accepting prompts but just saw a clip of gerrit and amy cole playing catch- she’s pregnant and still bringing the heat! Thought of emma and killian in the CMIYC verse :) hope the muse inspires you, pretty please and thank you :)

I saw that video @galadriel26! Too cute! If anyone wants to watch it, I’ll link it      | Here | 

And if anyone is interested in reading this on ao3, that’s | Here |

-/-

September 2022

Emma hates him.

She really, really does, and she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about that anytime soon. He doesn’t deserve it, and she’s going to stick to that thought process for the foreseeable future.

Because that’s definitely rational, and she is a beacon for being rational at all times.

Or not.

Definitely not. But at least part of the time.

“Take the train home,” Ruby says as she hands her the largest cup of lemonade Emma has ever seen. She’s going to have to pee approximately eighteen times after she drinks it. “I’ll ride with you so you’re not alone.”

“We don’t take anything close to the same route, and I don’t care about riding alone.”

“I don’t care that we’re not on the same route.” Ruby taps her shoulder into Emma’s as Emma takes a sip of her drink. God, this is delicious. She could probably live off of lemonade right now if she didn’t think about how many calories she consumed with a cup this size. And the peeing. So much peeing. “We could get Graham to come get us. He can give us a police escort.”

“That’s excessive.”

“You look miserable. Excessive might be in order.”

Emma hums and leans back in the stadium seat, propping her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. She needs to wash her sneakers. They have seen better days, and she loves these too much to do anything but preserve them forever. She definitely should have bought more than one pair when she got these.

Killian would have killed her.

As if he doesn’t have a million shoes of his own.

She’s definitely buying at least two more pairs of these shoes when she gets home. She deserves them.

“I’m not miserable,” Emma promises before taking another sip, “but I’m tired. I have been here since eight this morning, and Killian is out on the field running around in circles.”

“That’s called jogging.”

Emma rolls her eyes and tilts her head to lean it on Ruby’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I will soon because I’m about to leave for the day. I just wanted to make sure my nephew was going to be okay.”

“Oh, so what about the woman who is wearing extremely elastic shorts to house your nephew? Because if you don’t ask about me, I swear I’m going to pop off on you.”

Ruby chuckles and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “People ignoring you and only mentioning your stomach today?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And my boobs. I had actual, real people reference my boobs and how much bigger they are because I work with a bunch of assholes who can only focus on a woman for her boobs.”

“Your boobs are absolutely gigantic, and you’re only seven months.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. If she didn’t want this lemonade so badly, she’d pour it on Ruby for that comment. “If you ever have a kid, I’m going to remind you that you think being seven months pregnant in the summer in New York is an easy thing.”

“I only meant that your boobs are going to get even bigger along with your ankles.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, gently hitting Ruby. “I should have never told you I have to wear compression socks while working.”

“That was a mistake.”

“My ankles are normal size.”

“If you say so.” Ruby nods down toward the field. “It looks like your baby daddy is winding down. You going to be okay if I leave you to him? Or are you going to murder him for making you wait here? I’ll support you in that, but there’s only so much I can legally do to get you out of that situation.”

“Nah, I like him too much to murder him.”

“I’ve heard he’s really good at sex, too.”

“Rubes, you’re ridiculous.” Emma pulls herself away from Ruby, standing from the seats and wiping away the sweat that’s pooled at the back of her thighs before grabbing the hair elastic off her wrist and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re also not lying if I have to be totally honest with you.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

Her eyes rolls, and when Ruby stands, Emma leans over to hug her. She doesn’t actually know what she would do without Ruby and her penchant for asking totally inappropriate questions.

“Go home and let me go try to drag the crazy man off the field, okay?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to win the World Series again to impress you.”

“That would be ridiculous.”

“But it’s definitely true. You might be married to the most romantic man alive.”

“I’m going to tell Graham you said that.”

“Please do. He could step up his game.”

“I’ll slip it into the next conversation, but try as much as you might, there’s not much of a chance of Graham winning the World Series. But I’ll send him a text with a very blunt hint.”

“Perfect.” Ruby places her hands on Emma’s stomach, and Emma has to bite her tongue. She only lets Killian do that because people touching her stomach is freaking weird and should not be a socially accepting just because she has a human growing inside of her. “Baby boy Jones, your mom is going to murder your dad for making her stay here all day, and she’s going to murder me for touching her stomach, so I want you to know that I am the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”

“Goodbye, Rubes,” Emma sighs. She takes another sip to keep from laughing. “I’ll let you know if we’re still here in the morning.”

“You might as well wait. You’ll just be super early for work tomorrow.”

“At this rate, we both will be.”

Ruby turns and walks away toward the exit while Emma makes her way down the stands until she’s at the gate that will let her out onto the field. The sun is nearly finished setting, the overhead lights turned on and beaming down onto the field, and the heat from the day is finally melting away so that it’s not excessively sweltering.

She cannot wait for winter. It’ll be cold and comfortable and she won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll probably be freaking out because she has no idea how to be a mother, but at least her ankles won’t be slightly swollen anymore.

Hopefully.

It’ll all be worth it. Supposedly.

No, definitely.

She’s just miserably hot today and wants to be home on the couch with Netflix on so that she can get up and do this all over again.

They’re going to the ALDS, and she’s so damn excited. They’ve been rebuilding the team for years now, getting back to the top of the game, and this is the first time in a long time that Emma’s felt it in her gut that they’ve got a chance. 2019 feels like decades ago, but it’s only been three years since their lives were insane.

Well, insane in slightly different ways.

At least there are no deadbeat dads working with ex-boyfriends to ruin their lives. She couldn’t go through that again. She needs some kind of calm to be able to get through the next few weeks and keep from getting too stressed.

Pregnancy was obviously a great idea.

“Hey, twenty-nine, they called off practice a few hours ago.”

Killian keeps jogging, but he slows his pace until he’s in a walk and heading straight toward her. He has absolutely soaked through his t-shirt and his shorts, and he is definitely going to smell horrible on the car ride home if he doesn’t shower here.

“I’m getting extra credit, love.”

“You’ve already aced the test. Let’s go.”

Killian pushes his hair off his forehead before reaching back to tug at the back of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. Emma’s stomach swirls, and she swallows the lump in her throat.

Damn, she is luckier than she has any right to be.

Maybe sitting on the couch and watching Netflix isn’t what she actually wants to do right now.

“You see something you like there, Swan?”

“I feel like you took your shirt off because you know my hormones are crazy and that I’m still a little extra horny…on occasion.”

“I took my shirt off because I’m covered in sweat. Something like what you suggested would simply be a perk.”

Emma laughs and meets Killian halfway when he kisses her. “You are incredibly sweaty.”

“If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I’ll shower here.”

“I’m expecting it.”

“Good.” His lips run across her jaw before he pulls back. “You want to do me a favor and do some pitching practice with me?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I notice you didn’t say that as a question.”

“Because it wasn’t.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, and she recognizes it. He’s about to try to charm her pants off, probably quite literally, but she’s not going to let him. She’s going to ignore him and keep on drinking her lemonade.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll cook dinner if you practice with me.”

“You’re already cooking dinner, so you’re really slacking on the convincing.”

“Damn. But to be honest, I was counting on not wearing a shirt to be all the convincing you need.”

Emma shakes her head and takes one last sip of her lemonade before putting it down on the ground. “You have to rub my feet when we get home, and you better promise that you’re not going to nail me with a ball.”

“So many dirty jokes I could make there.”

His brows waggle, and she reaches over to shove him before walking to the pile of equipment behind home plate. She finds a glove that she doesn’t hate, grabs a ball, and meets Killian on the side of the field where he’s waiting for her. They’ve done this countless times out here, in stadiums across the country, and on the rooftop of their house. Though, that last one has led to a broken window at the brownstone across the street, and that was not a pleasant conversation.

She misses one catch and disaster happens.

“I got another jersey today,” Killian tells her as she gently tosses the ball his way.

“For a newborn or for an older kid?”

“I’m thinking toddler. It was cute. They’d gotten it customized with my name and number.”

He pelts the ball back. Okay, so they’re not going super slow today.

“You get it from a fan?”

“Yep. A group of women.”

Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head as she smiles. That does not surprise her in the slightest.

“We’re going to have enough onesies and jerseys to dress this kid until he’s a teenager because of groups of women who love you.”

“What can I say? My pretty face attracts a lot of women.”

“How pretty would it be if I gave you a black eye?”

“I think I would still be at least in the top two of the most stunning men on the team.”

She hears the thwack of her ball in Killian’s glove. “You are never lacking in confidence, are you?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

All the time, she thinks.

He lacks it all the time, but he hides it until the darkness of night when it’s just the two of them. The demons have been coming out to play lately with the pressure of the season mounting, that possibility of greatness at the tip of his fingers, and with her due date getting closer as they’re all wrapped up in baseball.

The two of them wanted this more than anything, but their own parents screwed them over so badly that Emma gets the demons. She has them, too.

Not when they’re out here, though, and there’s nothing and no one in the world but the two of them.

“Did I tell you Ruth is coming to town next week?”

“Is she staying with us?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, of course, love. I’ll wash the sheets in the guest room and get some groceries delivered. She still on a pasta kick?”

“She definitely is. You should see the texts she ends me. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at that much pasta.”

“I have, but it wasn’t the good kind of pasta.”

“All pasta is good pasta.”

His ball hits her glove a little harder than she was expecting. Damn, Jones. “That, darling, is not true in the slightest. For instance, wheat pasta and then that pasta you burned.”

“That was one time,” Emma groans as she shakes out her hand while adjusting her stance. “I swear I can cook. I haven’t died of starvation yet.”

“It helps when cereal is available.”

Emma throws the ball as hard as she can at Killian, but he doesn’t even flinch when he catches it. She can throw a fantastic ball, too, so he definitely should have flinched.

Sweat is now dripping down her back, the humidity in the air seeping into her clothes and her skin, and maybe she should take her shirt off as well so she doesn’t get covered. Killian might have had the right idea there.

She is not taking her shirt off in the middle of Yankee Stadium no matter how badly she wants to. That would somehow not go well for her and someone would see, and she’d have even more shit to put up with. Emma’s definitely punching the next person to tell her that she looks like she’s going to pop any minute now.

She’s not.

But why the hell do people think that’s okay to say to a pregnant woman? She swears some people forget that pregnant women are still people all on their own.

“Twenty-nine, I love you, but if you keep making fun of me while killing my arm, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. And the bad one, not the one in the living room.”

“Does your arm really hurt?”

“I may be a little sore from working out this morning. I’m mostly miserably hot even though I thought it was getting cooler out here. Can we move somewhere that never gets this hot?”

Killian nods and starts walking toward her. He takes his glove off and once he reaches her, he pushes the hair that’s curled on her face back up into her ponytail. “We can go someplace with air-conditioning right now. I feel like that’s an okay compromise.”

“After you shower, right?”

“What? I don’t smell great right now?”

“I already told you that you smelled awful.”

Killian hums as the corners of his lips turn up, and she doesn’t have enough time to run before he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until she’s covered in sweat and the awful smell of someone who desperately needs to shower. It’s a million times worse than when he leaves his sweaty clothes in the hamper instead of putting them in the washing machine.

“Stop,” Emma groans as she pushes him away. “Killian, stop. I’m going to smell awful.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughs as she stops trying to pull back. She’s already screwed. This is disgusting. “You’re a child.”

He shrugs and smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle. “I’m in my thirties, and I play baseball for a living. I’ve never had a reason not to be.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Killian releases her from his embrace before stepping away. “C’mon, Swan. There’s no one in the clubhouse. We can go shower. I’ve got clothes for you.”

“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was say.”

“I have been trying for that this entire time.”

Emma shakes her head and chuckles. “You’ve got an early game tomorrow, and you actually have to play. Let’s go shower and then go home. I’m exhausted, and I was promised a foot rub.”

-/-

“What the hell?”

Emma shifts in bed and twists her neck to look at Killian. “What?”

The mattress dips and suddenly Emma feels Killian’s pressing into her back as his arm loops over her stomach. “Look at this.”

She looks down at his phone and at the video that’s playing. It’s the two of them from last night when they were throwing the ball back and forth.

What the hell?

“How did someone get this?”

“I don’t know. There must have been someone still in the stands that saw us and then they sent it in to SportsCenter.”

“Usually I’d be bothered by something like this, but I look like a hell of a lot better pitcher than you here. Look at that accuracy. And according to the caption, I’m a catch.”

“It also says it’s unfair to me because we’re playing two on one.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs as she leans back into Killian’s embrace. “Have you already looked at the comments?”

“Against my better judgment, I did. There were quite a few about my lack of a shirt and how they could understand how you got pregnant.”

“I feel like a hell of a lot of people have no idea how sex works then.”

Killian snickers into the back of her neck and drops his hand to her stomach. “You do have great accuracy, love.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Rob?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, Rob. He’s undoubtedly the best pitcher on the team.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep practicing with me until I get that title.”

“We’re going to be practicing for a long damn time then.”

Killian pulls her back against him and buries his nose in her neck. His scruff is prickly against her skin, but the burn of it is pleasant as his lips run across the cords in her neck before settling just below her ear.

“Are you and the kid going to gang up on me or are we going to let him like me for a little while?”

“I think we’ll let him like you until he’s five, and then he’s my partner in crime.”

“That is the most reasonable plan you’ve ever had.”

She huffs and places her hand over Killian’s on her stomach. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe. Though, I’m definitely going to be the one to teach Jace how to throw a ball. You suck.”

“Aren’t you the one who broke the Taylor’s window?”

“I said teach him how to throw. That was a catching problem on my part. We’ll have to let Scarlet teach him all about that.”

“The thought of Scarlet teaching my kid anything is terrifying.”

“Please. You trust Will with your life.”

Killian nods into her neck again and places a soft kiss there. “I trust him with you, yeah. Do you want some breakfast? We need to get ready for work soon.”

“Do we still have that fruit bowl?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll have that. Just give me five more minutes and then we can get up and get ready.”

“Five more minutes tends to mean about an hour.”

“No,” Emma sighs. “Five minutes. I mean it.”

“Fine, Swan, we can have five more minutes.”

-/-

-/-

@mrtinski​ @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[the-hidden-writer]

A Second Chance: Chapter 8

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his “dead” mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn’t really know how to family properly.

[First Chapter] 

Comments make my day! :D

The Invitation

Several uneventful weeks passed. Despite the earth-shattering news, the world kept on spinning. Phoenix and Maya had potential clients to prepare for, Pearl had to go back to Kurain Village in the care of Maya’s friend Soma, and Miles had to return to the Prosecutor’s Office in an attempt to help sort out the whole “Godot” mess and pick up some of the slack.

To his credit though, he did plan on staying in the country for the foreseeable future. He also made the effort of visiting Wright & Co. Law Offices on a regular basis. 

That being said, he did make an excuse for his presence each time. One time it was to present a potential client, another was to drop off paperwork, and even once because he thought he ‘forgot’ something on his last visit. 

And Phoenix was so close to calling him out on it, but it was so much funnier to see what he would come up with every time. Did he seriously believe it wasn’t obvious he just wanted to see them?

So when the familiar knock came, he practically jumped out of his seat to answer the door whilst Maya sniggered in the background.

“Hey Miles,” he said to the frowning man at the door, trying his best to hide his grin, “what brings you here this time?”

He was genuinely expecting another work-related excuse, so he was thrown straight off-guard when Miles shuffled awkwardly and didn’t look him in the eyes when he replied:

“I… have something I would like to give to Maya, if it’s an appropriate time.”

Phoenix stepped aside. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”

He let Edgeworth enter and followed after him, not surprised to see Maya sitting on the table waiting for them expectantly.

“Hi Miles! Got any more paperwork for us?” 

She said it with such a teasing edge to her voice that Phoenix glared at her from behind Edgeworth’s shoulder for blowing their secret. 

However, the accusation seemed to completely fly over Edgeworth’s head.

“No, actually I have something I want to give you.”

“For me?” Maya grinned. “Bro, you shouldn’t have!”

He cleared his throat and Phoenix feared for Maya’s safety after using that nickname.

But Miles apparently wasn’t going to murder her on sight, and instead handed her a large brown paper bag. Phoenix could have sworn he was blushing as he did so.

“I have no use for these anymore. I thought throwing them away would be a waste, therefore I’m giving them to you.” 

Maya looked at the bag suspiciously before looking inside. She squealed.

“Seriously?!” She cried. “This is-”

“What?! What is it?” Phoenix exclaimed.

Edgeworth’s soft “I should be going now…” was completely drowned out by Maya’s excitement.

“It’s… it’s the six missing episodes to Steel Samurai season 3!” She continued, gaping down at the discs inside the bag. “Only a few hard copies ever got sold because they were recalled for some reason, this is-” she turned to look up at Edgeworth- “this is insane!”

“Y-yes, well…” Miles stammered, and Phoenix could tell he was definitely blushing now. “I’m glad you appreciate them. I’ll be off-”

“Oh no you don’t!” Maya interrupted, standing up suddenly, startling both men.

“You, sir, are gonna watch every one of these with us.”

“Me?” Said Miles, confused.

“Us?” Questioned Phoenix, equally confused.

Maya nodded with glee. “Yup to both of those! Miles, you’re gonna point out cool details to me and Nick’s gonna be moral support. Friday night sound good?”

“Hang on a moment,” Miles interjected, “I have a lot of work I need to be doing so you can’t assume I have the time to-”

“What, you mean like the time you use to come and see us every other day with some excuse or other?” Phoenix countered, his argumentative side taking control.

Edgeworth’s face was now a bright red, and he genuinely looked as if he was about to explode. Phoenix almost regretted exposing him.

“Yeah,” he continued, “don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Miles clenched his fists tightly and bit down on his bottom lip. He raised a finger and opened his mouth to object. “I-” he began, sounding like the noise a large balloon makes when a spurt of air is released, but then he caught sight of Maya’s sincere expression.

“Please?” She said.

Letting his tense body relax through a long, strained sigh, he hung his head. “Alright,” he breathed, “I’ll try and come on Friday.”

Both Maya and Phoenix released quiet breaths they’d been holding, and neither stopped Miles as he began to walk toward the door. His visits were always brief, but never this intense. He brushed off his maroon blazer and pulled at the handle.

“Miles!” Maya called, causing him to stop. He didn’t turn to face them.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t reply, and carried on through the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the pair in stunned silence. 

“...You’re going after him, right?” Maya asked timidly. 

Phoenix pushed himself up from his chair with a sigh. “Guess I am.”

~._-_.~

“Edgeworth! Hey, wait up!”

Miles turned to see Phoenix Wright jogging after him. He seemed too out of breath for the occasion, since he was still in sight of the office. He had that familiar determined look on his face though. The last thing he needed was to make a scene in public.

“Wright.” He addressed curtly.

Phoenix stopped once he reached him. “Are you okay? You really don’t have to come on Friday, and I’m sorry that we outed you like that-”

“You did no such thing.” Miles interrupted, before adding: “And I’ll need to think about Friday.”

“Right.” Wright answered, his voice strangely high-pitched. “Right.”

Miles wanted nothing more than to go home, or to the office, or anywhere just to escape this conversation. The last thing he wanted was to seem needy in front of Phoenix Wright- not that he was! He was doing it all for-

“Maya really appreciates it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You coming, I mean.” Phoenix continued. “She has a weird way of showing it, sure, but she really does appreciate you going through all the trouble. It means a lot to her.”

He smiled nervously. “And to me too, y’know?”

“...I know.” Miles replied without thinking, and when he did start thinking his eyes widened because that’s not what he meant and-

“Good,” is what Phoenix responded, “I’m glad.”

The man had the audacity to use finger guns at him. “I guess I'll see you Friday then!” 

Miles nodded, still unsure of exactly what just happened, and tried to remember where he was planning to go. He decided to go home.

He also had to check that he had nothing else planned for Friday evening.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 12: Thank God It’s Christmas

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So hello again! I know it’s been 3 months since I last updated this fic, and a lot has changed since August so let me catch you up real quick. First of all, in the UK we basically came out of lockdown only to go back into it last week so that’s great. I’m in Year 11 now which is the last year of high school if you didn’t know, and I’m in the middle of my mocks right now, so my free time has plummeted. This unfortunately means that updates across all of my fics will be much slower for the foreseeable future, or at least until Bojo finally cancels our exams. We can but hope.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry it’s kind of a filler but I promise that the plot is properly about to kick in, just like I said a couple chapters ago. I’ve realised that I’m now the same age as these characters which makes things a lot easier in terms of writing them realistically. Also I’ve decided that all of the characters and just this whole fic in general has main character energy which is Good. We love to see it. Anyways I shall see you next time! Hasta luego.

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 3.1k+

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask/comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s). Full list is in my bio.

Ruth had her face pressed right up to the glass of the tiny kitchen window, making it smear up from her breath, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She curiously watched her cat, Sooty, cautiously interact with the much larger cat from down the road, circling each other in a manner that would be rather ominous if the former wasn’t a quarter of the latter’s size. Sooty was almost completely obscured by the overgrown grass that was screaming to be cut; Ruth wouldn’t have even known he was outside if it wasn’t for his extraordinarily long tail poking through.

“Ruth, why are you sitting on my poor washing machine?” her mother came in, half amused, half concerned, “You’re going to break the damn thing.”

She gasped in mock offence and turned round to look at her, “Are you trying to say something, Mum?”

She gave her a knowing look and said, “You know that’s not what I meant. Now, you didn’t answer my question, what on earth are you doing on my washing machine?”

She jumped off before Jocelyn could chastise her any further, “I’m waiting for the boys. We were saying about going down the pier or something today so we could give each other our presents, and I’m waiting for James’s parents to apparate them all to our garden. And they’re taking forever,” she pouted, elongating the last word way more than necessary.

“Well, what time did you tell them to come round?”

Ruth thought about it for a second before saying, “Around one o’clock, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what time is it now?”

She looked at the ground and mumbled, “Half twelve.”

“Well, there you go. You have half an hour, and you haven’t even got dressed yet,” she pointed out.

“But-”

“No buts. You’re not going out in your dressing gown so go and get dressed,” she said, playfully swatting Ruth with the tea towel and chasing her out of the kitchen.

She laughed maniacally as she ran out of the room, “But Mother, I am dressed,” she said, taking off her dressing gown like a stripper.

“Then why are you wearing your dressing gown?” Jocelyn asked exasperatedly.

“Because it’s bloody cold!” Ruth grinned.

“Language,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile but sobering up when she noticed Ruth’s face fall, “What’s up with you?”

She faltered for a moment, caught off guard by Jocelyn’s quick observations, “Mum, did you, erm, did you hear about Melanie?” she grimaced with the fear of treading grounds such as those. Her cousin hadn’t mentioned anything about who she had told about the pregnancy, so for all Ruth knew, Jocelyn didn’t have a clue and she was about to get Melanie into some serious trouble.

Luckily for them both, Jocelyn’s face softened with understanding, “I heard. Your aunt told me all about it a couple weeks ago.”

“What do you think about it all? I mean, Christ, Mum, she’s only seventeen,” Ruth sighed, running a hand across her hair with an anxiety that she hadn’t even realised she had been suppressing.

“Come here,” she said, taking Ruth into her arms and holding her for a moment, “She’s going to be okay. She’s not alone, remember that. She’s got your aunt and us and that boyfriend of hers. She’ll be fine.”

A sudden knock at the window followed by four familiar faces made both Ruth and her mum look up in surprise, followed by a disappointed laugh from the former when she noticed that Sirius was only wearing his signature leather jacket, with no hat, scarf or gloves. She opened the kitchen door to let them in, hugging each of them as they entered.

Jocelyn smiled at the group before winking at her daughter, “I’ll make myself busy, then. Have fun today,” she said as she left with her steaming cup of tea.

Ruth grinned before turning to the boys, “Sirius, darling, it’s December, not June. Where the hell is your coat? And don’t tell me you’re too cool to actually keep yourself warm,” she added before the boy in question could say anything.

“Leave it, Ruth, I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him all morning, he won’t listen,” James sighed dramatically, sounding scarily like an exhausted mother.

“I won’t listen? You’re the one who nearly strangled me with that damn scarf!” Sirius exclaimed, looking desperately to the others for back-up, only to be met with shrugs.

“You dress appropriately for the weather, or you face the consequences,” James deadpanned, before bursting into laughter from the miffed expression on Sirius’s face.

“God, you really have become your mum, haven’t you?” Peter smirked, holding back his own laughter.

“Shut up, Pete!” he whined, stomping on the ground petulantly.

“Now you’re my brother,” Ruth snorted.

*************

The fresh air bit at their noses as they made their way down the bustling high street, bracing themselves against the crisp December wind. Sirius was still the only one not wearing a coat, the rest of the group bundled up in their Gryffindor scarves which may or may not have been the only scarves they owned. Except for fifteen-year-old-grandmother Remus, who absolutely had a worrying obsession with anything you could make via knitting and the like. Peter had been positively swallowed up, and between his hat that looked about two sizes too big and his scarf, you could only see his eyes and the top of his nose.

“It’s a bit nippy out here, lads,” Ruth said, just as an icy gust of wind hit them, bringing tears to eyes, and actually making Peter stumble a little bit. As Jocelyn said at every possible opportunity, the wind was always stronger at the seaside.

“Is it really, Ruth? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed, thank you for telling me,” Remus glared at her, which would have been tenfold more menacing if half of his face wasn’t concealed by windswept hair.

“You are most welcome, dear Remus,” she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him in defiance.

“Children. Actual children,” Sirius muttered in a tone not at all dissimilar to that of an exasperated father.

“Says the one who refused to put his scarf on because he’s a stubborn bastard,” James said pointedly.

“Oh, you’re still going on about that one?”

“Always, my dear boy, always. I’m already making sure my best man’s speech mentions it at least twice,” he said proudly.

“He’s gotta find someone to marry first,” Peter pointed out, voice muffled from under his scarf.

“And what’s that supposed to meant, Pete?” Sirius rounded on him, forgetting completely about James’s strange obsession with his lack of winter clothing.

“Well, I don’t know but it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks,” Ruth shrugged.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Ruth,” Remus laughed, “But she does have a point, Sirius.”

“Why are you all ganging up on me, it’s very rude,” he huffed, “Anyway, it’s not my fault that I want to win the bet me and Ruth started in third year.”

“Darling, you’ve always had the option to pull out and admit that I am proud to be the biggest hoe that Hogwarts has ever seen,” she said with as much faux innocence as one can muster while talking about sex.

Sirius was silent for a moment before pointing out, “Wait, hang on, I’ve had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks. I went out with Emmeline Vance for about five months!”

“You mean you were on again, off again with Emmeline Vance for about five months,” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both gonna end up clapped as anything by the time we leave,” Peter mumbled as they walked through the threshold of their destination: Ruth’s beloved record shop.

Cromer’s one and only record shop was a favourite haunt of Ruth’s. If anyone wanted to find her during the school holidays, the record shop would be the first place they would go to, the second being the arcade on the promenade because they have the best games darling, and the third being the beach. It never seemed to cross anyone’s mind to look for her at her own home; it was a generally unspoken rule of sorts in the town that seeing Ruth at her house was as rare as seeing a double rainbow. It was the place where a good part of her pocket money went to, and the owner was incredibly grateful to have such a loyal customer. Ruth just told him to consider himself lucky that his was the only establishment in walking distance of her house that supplied her with her vinyl obsession. And oh boy, did he do just that. The White family were responsible for a good twenty per cent of his sales.

They filed into the shop, instantly taking off their hats when the somewhat aggressive heat hit them. The limited daylight spilt in through the floor-length windows that flanked the door, highlighting the records on show. The shop itself was rather small, with only two aisles running straight down to the till. They were separated by cases upon cases of albums, packed like sardines into their crates and sorted semi-alphabetically. Posters adorned almost every available space on the otherwise dull walls, looking over the customers with a keen interest. Underneath them were further crates, these ones pushed back against the walls and full of singles, which were ordered even more haphazardly than the albums if you could believe that. Ruth made her way down one of the aisles, leaving the boys to browse artists that they barely even knew. At the back end of the shop sat the counter, behind which sat the owner, Steve.

Steve was a rather short and stout man who had the grave misfortune of looking around a whole decade older than he actually was. That was more so to do with the way with which he held himself, and the fact that he wore those glasses that had a chain attached that you only see on elderly men, than his physical appearance. He had a terribly receding hairline that seemed to creep back every time Ruth came into his shop. She reckoned that he’d be completely bald by the time she left Hogwarts for good. He always seemed to wear the same attire, consisting of loose-fitting trousers and a grey t-shirt that always had a stain that Ruth would rather not enquire after. His fingers were coated with a nicotine stain that you only get after smoking for a good few decades, teeth and fingernails tinted yellow.

His smile was warm, and his eyes lit up like a match when he noticed Ruth walking up to the counter, “Arabella, good to see you!”

“You too, Steve, how’s everything been these past couple of months?” she asked, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

“Not bad, not bad,” he said, “A lot better than this time last year, that’s for sure. Thanks, by the way, for the advert in the newspaper suggestion. Business has gone up a great deal since then.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you give up the shop that easily, could I? Nah, you’ve supplied me with the very best music these past few years, it was the least I could do,” she beamed.

He smiled gratefully at her before glancing at the boys behind her, leafing through bands they’d never even heard of for the most part, “I see you’ve brought your mates at last.”

Ruth snorted as they all poked their heads up and waved at the same time, each one oblivious to the other, “Yeah, I thought I might as well, I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

“One of them your boyfriend?” he winked, laughing at Ruth’s mortified expression.

“No! God, no, that’s a horrible thought,” she shivered, recoiling in disgust.

“What’s a horrible thought?” Sirius asked as he sauntered up to the counter.

“Your face,” Ruth muttered as he swatted her shoulder, mouth agape in shock.

“How rude! I can’t believe you would say something like that!” he gasped before turning around and whining, “James! Ruth’s being mean to me!”

It was then James’s turn to gasp in disappointment, “Is she? Oh, come here, I’ll protect you from the meanie,” he said in the most motherly voice he could muster, opening his arms and hugging Sirius while glaring at Ruth.

She stared at them in disbelief, looking at Remus and Peter for guidance, only to be met with shrugs. She resolved to simply shaking her head in exasperation and turning to the ‘new releases’ section of the shop.

*************

“You know what we should do,” Ruth said, holding up a chip to emphasise her point, “We should go on a gang holiday when we’re older. Just go travelling for a couple of weeks or something.”

They were currently sitting on the beach which, as you can probably imagine, isn’t the most pleasant of experiences in the middle of winter. The harsh wind nipped at their faces and Peter’s nose was crimson with the cold, but they found themselves sitting there anyway, watching the teal waves advance and retreat under the December mist that lazily rested on the ocean’s surface. They were sharing a couple of bags of chips that they’d bought from the chippy just aound the corner from Ruth’s house, trying their best to shield them from the prying seagulls circling the skies above them like hawks.

Peter audibly gasped with excitement, “We should get one of those caravans that muggles used to drive all the time in the sixties.”

“Yes! And we could charm it so it’s bigger on the inside like the tents they have at the Quidditch World Cup!” James added, ecstatic just to have been able to chime in with a Quidditch reference, let alone about the actual holiday. Sirius grinned stupidly as they high fived, making Ruth cringe and groan like an embarrassed daughter having to watch her parents kiss. Though, once she thought about it, that analogy was pretty accurate, perhaps more than she would have liked.

Remus held out his hands in suspense, something he always did when he’d thought of a master plan, “Two words. Tardis. Caravan.”

The sounds that then erupted from the group could not be described as human, more like a group of over-excited seagulls.

Once they’d calmed down, which took more time than it probably should have done, James suggested, “We should go to France so Sirius can show his French off!”

Sirius glared at him, muttering under his breath and by doing so, proving James’s point, “Putain de chienne. Je ne me montre pas, vous seriez tous perdus sans moi.”

“Oui, oui, er, baguette,” Peter snorted, rubbing his arm when Sirius hit at him playfully.

“Right, well,” Remus cut in before they jumped at each other’s throats, “Presents? The whole reason we’re here?”

“Gosh, Moony, here I was thinking that you were here because you wanted to see us and enjoy our company, but no, you just want your damn chocolate,” Sirius huffed.

Remus blinked at him for a second before asking tentatively, “Moony?”

“Moony,” he nodded.

Remus pinched his brow and sighed, “I’m going to regret asking but why?”

“Werewolf. Moon. Moony,” he explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I get a say in this by any chance?”

“No. I’ve thought of names for all of us, actually. I’m Padfoot, Peter’s Wormtail, Ruth is Silverspot and James is Prongs,” he counted off his fingers before nodding resolutely.

James smirked, eyes gleaming and Ruth already knew what he was going to say, “Am I Prongs because of my big–”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at him menacingly, “Finish that question and I swear to God, James, I will slap you into next year.”

“Sirius, I think you’ve had far too much spare time on your hands,” Remus said while James and Ruth engaged in a very mature staring competition that lasted all of ten seconds.

“Yeah, five days without us and you’ve given us all nicknames,” Peter added, looking rather concerned for his friend’s mental state.

“Do you want me to change yours to Massive Knobhead?” Sirius asked with a scarily fake smile on his face.

James cut in before any fighting could ensue, “Okay, let’s get on to the presents, shall we?”

Sirius just shrugged and made a noise of vague agreement, while Peter just looked rather relieved to avoid conflict.

*************

“Sirius, will you keep still!”

It was the fifth time that Remus had had to utter those words in the past two minutes, much to everyone’s annoyance and to Sirius’s amusement.

“Keeping still is for wimps!” Sirius announced with a stupid grin on his face before ruffling his hair once again.

“My fingers are gonna fall off from the cold at this rate,” Peter scowled, shooting daggers at Sirius with his eyes. Remus had given him a polaroid camera for Christmas after he’d been going on and on about wanting a muggle one all year, and he’d been trying his best to get a photo of the others for what felt like hours.

“Sirius stand still or I will petrificus totalus your sorry ass,” Ruth groaned, and James had to suppress a cheer when Sirius finally, finally, did as he was told. Peter took the photo as quickly as he could and waited patiently for the photo to develop, grinning when the image came into colour. “Let us see, then!” she exclaimed impatiently, holding her hands out like a baby would and snatching the photo from Peter.

“Oi, careful, I did not wait that long for Sirius to stop moving for you to just rip the bloody photo in half,” Peter huffed, re-joining the group with a false reluctance.

James grinned when he got a look at the photo, “Oh, Pete, that’s a bloody good photo. You should be a photographer or something,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair playfully as the boy’s face flushed red.

“He’s got a point, Wormtail,” Remus mused, watching Sirius’s face light up at his use of the nickname, “It is a good photo. Though it’s weird having us stood still for once, I’m so used to us being in magical pictures.”

“I like it,” Ruth smiled, glancing at the boys affectionately, “I think it makes it even more special,” she paused for a moment, inhaling the very essence of that moment and relishing in it, “Happy Christmas, lads.”

[paigenotblank]

Making the Naughty List

Pairing: Twelve x Rose Rating: Explicit Series: As It Should Be

written for @dwsecretsanta for @serindipitysays (I am so sorry for it’s lateness!!)

tagging: @doctorroseprompts for the 31 Days of Christmas prompts: workshop, gingerbread, naughty and/or nice, santa and/or elves, mistletoe, friends, family, celebrate

Read at AO3 or TS

--

Rose breathed in the steam wafting from her mug before taking a sip of her tea in an attempt to chase away the fog of sleep. The soft material of her pajamas slid across the skin of her legs and almost tempted her to turn around and go back to bed. She’d barely made a sound as she padded into the console room, but the Doctor lifted his head from the mess of wires that comprised his latest project and homed in on her.

“Rose!” He jumped up from his seat and ran over to his wife. After kissing her on the cheek, his eyes took in what she was wearing and his forehead wrinkled. “Why so many layers?

Rose glanced down at the cotton flannel pajamas, heavy socks, and thick robe she had on. She stepped into the Doctor’s personal space and ran her finger down his chest. “Don’t think I wasn’t gonna surprise you with my new Christmas teddy…” Rose leaned back and directed the rest of her comment toward the ceiling, “but it was bloody freezing this morning.”

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah…”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I picked up Bill. She’s in the galley getting something to eat. The TARDIS probably didn’t want her to be scandalized if she caught you wearing...or not wearing...that-”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we scandalized her,” Rose said with a purr to her voice.

“Yes. And the last time she walked in on us, it was a month before she’d step onto the TARDIS again.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “It was a month for her, you cheated and skipped ahead.”

“Well, I’d rather not have it happen again. The only one I want ogling my wife’s backside is me.”

Rose laughed. “More like you don’t want to hear her go off on your pasty white arse for two hours.”

“It’s almost Christmas, I didn’t wake up this morning with the intention of being abused-”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“No-”

“Then you can’t complain.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows drew together. “Oi, I didn’t make myself Scottish to not complain.”

Rose shook her head with a fond sigh. “Doctor...”

“It’s Christmas, Rose.”

“Time machine. It’s not Christmas just yet.”

The Doctor crossed his arms. “Semantics.”

Rose smiled her tongue touched grin. “How the tables have turned, my love.”

The Doctor couldn’t help himself, he leaned in to chase after that teasing appendage.

“Oi! There are others on board!”

The two sprung apart and looked sheepishly in Bill’s direction.

Rose handed her mug to the Doctor and moved swiftly across the room to give Bill a hug. “Sorry, darling. I promise I’ll try and behave.”

Bill snorted with a roll of her eyes. “That’ll be the day. You two are so sickeningly in love it makes it hard for those of us sadly single to be around you.”

“Oh! What happened with Penny? Was it because we-”

“No. It was nothing that you two did. She’d been surprisingly accepting of me traveling around with aliens.”

“Oi! Not an alien. Still human thank you very much.” Rose crossed her arms with a huff.

“Fine. A time traveling alien and his immortal human wife.”

A smile tugged at Rose’s lips. “Glad we got that sorted. So what happened with Penny? I thought it was going well?”

Bill flopped down in one of the many seats scattered around the console room and shrugged. “Her ex came calling. They’d been together for 11 years, and decided to give it another try.”

Rose sat down next to Bill and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. We’d only been dating a few weeks. I hadn’t gotten a chance to get too attached.”

Rose stood and pressed a kiss to the top of Bill’s head. “I don’t believe that for a second. When you love, you do it whole-heartedly. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

“Me too. You remind of Rose when I first met her,” the Doctor said fondly. “Chip obsession and all.”

Rose snuggled into the Doctor’s side pressed her lips to his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“You’re still one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met and aren’t I just the luckiest man in the universe to have you.”

Rose’s breath caught in her throat and she twinned her fingers in her husband’s unruly locks. Raising herself onto her tippy toes, she pulled him down for a kiss.

The Doctor tugged her more firmly against his front and groaned when Rose did that thing with her tongue that he liked so much.

Bill sighed loudly.

Rose pulled back with a blush.

“Sorry, Bill.”

“I want it on the record that you only lasted about 2 minutes into your promise. You think I’d be used to it by now. Oh, wait. I am.”

Rose shook her finger at Bill. “Hush. I know you’re used it, but still it was insensitive of me. You’d think my husband of 50 years was rubbing off on me.”

“Oi!”

“Rude and not ginger. It’s who you are, love.”

The Doctor grumbled and headed for the console. He started flicking switches and throwing levers, a little harder than was necessary if the flickering lights of the rotor was any indication.

Rose leaned back against the railing and smirked at his antics.

“So where are we headed today?”

She drew her eyes away from her husband’s backside and to her young friend. “Christmas dinner.”

“But Christmas is still nearly a week off.”

“We knew you’d want to spend your Christmas with Moira, but since we have this magnificent time machine you can spend ours with us, too.”  

Bill grinned brightly. “Well, then it’s a good thing I thought to bring your gifts with me, wasn’t it.”

“You didn’t need to get us anything.”

“Presents?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I swear sometimes I think I’m married to a 2000 year old toddler.”

“You weren’t calling me a toddler last night when-”

Bill shot up out of her seat and covered her ears. “Absolutely not. I draw the line at having to hear replays of your sex life.”

Rose hissed, “Doctor..”

“Fine. Sarah Jane’s it is.”

“Who’s Sarah Jane?”

“An old friend who invited us for Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, but-” Bill tugged on her jacket.

“She is especially looking forward to meeting you.” Rose said to Bill with a smile.

“Me?”

“Sarah used to travel with the Doctor and she runs a...sort of support group for former companions.”

“Support group is a bit of an exaggeration, dear.”

Rose’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know, Doctor. Love ‘em an’ leave ‘em seemed to be a bit of a thing with you. I can see why-”

“Club! It’s more of a club for former companions! Monthly meetings, dinners, fond reminiscences of traveling with me.”

Rose snorted. “They hardly ever talk about you.”

“What?”

“They do have dinners and Sarah Jane is very good at finding out if someone needs something and offering her support, but it really is just a small group of people who’ve had an experience that’s difficult for most people to relate to who get together and have a good time with each other.”

“Me! That shared experience was traveling with me! How can they not even mention me?”

Rose walked up to the controls and took over from the Doctor in piloting the TARDIS to their friend’s house. “Well they don’t have a rule about not talking about you, but Martha said their actual adventures with you hardly ever come up.”

The Doctor stood pouting while Rose flipped the final lever sending them spinning into the time vortex.

The TARDIS landed with nary a bump. Rose kissed the Doctor on the cheek and pushed him toward the door. “You and Bill head on out, I’ve got to get changed. I’ll hardly be a mo.’”

--

Rose closed the door behind her and stopped short less she crash into the Doctor. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

The Doctor backed up and casually leaned against the wall opposite the TARDIS and pointed above them. Rose glanced up to see a small sprig of mistletoe. “Didn’t want to miss my opportunity.”

Rose shook her head, but stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. It started chastely enough, but the Doctor wasted no time in pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

They broke apart to the sound of Jamie’s disgust. “Ugh! Someone really ought to toss a bucket of ice water over the two of you. Can’t you even go twenty minutes without a public snogging session?”

Sarah Jane chided Jamie as the four of them walked from the hallway to the dining room, “I think it’s sweet that your parents still love each other after all this time. Not many couples today make it to even 10 years, and here they are more than 50 years in.”

Jenny stood from her spot next to Bill to give her mother a hug. “It is sweet Aunt Sarah, but you don’t have to see them all the time. They’re incorrigible. The last time we went on a family trip, Mum managed to lose half her clothing and then they got arrested for public indecency.”

Jamie nodded at his sister. “And when they took Bill to-”

“No!” Bill yelled and covered her ears. “We are not ever going to talk about what happened on Centaurius Prime.”

Rose blushed and pushed the Doctor toward a chair. “Okay, okay. We’ll behave.”

The Doctor smirked. “At least through dinner.”

Bill smiled at Jenny. “I’m gonna go on a trip with Jenny and Jamie, so you two can…” Bill gestured between the Rose and the Doctor, “celebrate Christmas however it is you want.”

Jenny grabbed Bill’s hand under the table. “We’ll bring her back in a week.”

Rose arched one eyebrow. “A week our time or yours?”

“Yours.”

Rose pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She’d seen the attraction between the two, but it always seemed that one or the other was in a relationship and hadn’t been the right time. Poor Jamie. Having to be around the two of them for the foreseeable future with Jenny being just like her father.

She glanced at Clara who was laughing at something Danny said, then to Jamie who was looking longingly at Clara. Rose sighed. Poor Jamie.

Mickey carried a turkey in from the kitchen, followed by Martha, as Sarah Jane announced, “Okay everyone, time to eat.”

--

Rose stepped out of the TARDIS and into a frozen landscape with snow blowing all around her. She pulled her parka hood tighter and turned toward the door. “Doctor, this isn’t Woman Wept!”

The Doctor stepped out of the timeship with a quirk to his lips and locked the door behind him. “Oh, really?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at her husband, not trusting the casual tone to his voice in the least. “What are you up to?”

“What do you mean?”

“This wasn’t the TARDIS taking us off course. You’re up to something. Where are we?”

The Doctor slipped Rose’s hand into his own and squeezed. “A little Christmas surprise. C’mon, love.”

Rose huffed in mock annoyance, but she knew she’d follow the Doctor anywhere he asked.

They walked through a forest and were protected for the most part from the storm by the surrounding evergreen trees. When they emerge from the forest there was nothing but snow and snow drifts for miles. Rose shivered and rubbed her arms.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

The Doctor scoffed and pulled some mittens from his pocket. “When was the last time that...you know what? Don’t answer that. I know exactly where we are. We’ll be there in just a mo’.”

They rounded an embankment and came to a stop before a singular pole decorated with red and white ribbon standing no taller than the Doctor in the desolate landscape. Rose tilted her head. “What on Earth?”

“Where on Earth, you mean.” He nodded to a small engraved plaque running down the side of the marker.

Rose leaned in closer and gasped. “The North Pole? But there’s nothin’ here.”

The Doctor pulled Rose up against him and leaned in for a kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed as their lips touched. The Doctor spun her in a circle past the decorative pole and when she opened them once again they stood at the edge of a bustling little town. It looked to Rose like they were standing inside a snow globe. The world outside was hazy and although she could see the blizzard raging beyond, there was a protective screen keeping all but a light flurry from getting through.

Rose’s mouth hung open as she twirled around to take everything in. “But…”

The Doctor grinned and whispered in her ear, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“No! You’re not serious!”

The Doctor’s smile only grew brighter and he reached out his hand to her.

They walked toward the picturesque village, and when the Doctor saw a small, pointy eared fellow hustling past, he called out, “Oi! Where’s your boss?”

The elf stopped in his tracks and looked the Doctor up and down. “He’s a little busy with it being Christmas Eve an’ all.”

“Christmas is still a month off.”

The elf shook his head. “I don’t know what yer smokin’ Big Guy, but tonight’s Christmas Eve.”

“Forgot to check the coordinates again, Doctor?” Rose poked her tongue out of the side of her smile and batted her eyelashes.

The Doctor bristled and dragged Rose toward the biggest building. “He’s an old friend, I’ll find him myself.”

The elf chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that Big Guy.”

The Doctor stormed off with Rose trailing behind him trying to keep her laughter in check.

“Big Guy? I’m not the Big Guy.”

Rose giggled. “I don’t know, compared to the elves you are pretty big.”

“They’re not elves, Rose. They’re Noellians. And Santa is their king. And speaking of Santa, he’s the Big Guy. Not me.”

“Maybe there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me. I mean red bicycle when I was 12, right? Have you’ve just been hidin’ it from me all these years?”

The Doctor ruffled his hair and stammered. “That...that was just me being a sentimental old fool.”

Rose stopped him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “But you’re my sentimental old fool, and I love you for it.”

They reached the workshop and saw groups of elves running to and fro.

The Doctor called out above the cacophony. “Oi! Anyone seen Santa?”

One of the elves snorted. “Good luck with that, mate. It’s the night before Christmas.”

“I just want to introduce my wife to Santa.”

“You picked a fine bloody time, Big Guy.”

“Stop calling me Big Guy.”

The elf shook his head and walked off.

The Doctor once again grabbed Rose’s hand. “Come on. His office is this way.”

When they made it to Santa’s office it was empty, and the Doctor huffed his annoyance and ran his hands through his curls. His long curls.

He needs a haircut. Rose looked him over rather appreciatively - the way his hair stood puffed out and his jacket and shirt stretched across his chest. She leaned back against the door and snicked the lock. Unzipping her coat as she moved, she sauntered toward the Doctor.

“What- What are you doing?”

“Trying to make it onto the naughty list?” Rose let her coat drop to the floor.

“Rose…”

“Yes, Doctor?” Her shirt, trousers, and boots soon followed. She hopped up and sat perched on the desk in the center of the room in only her bra and knickers.

The Doctor unfastened the button of his own trousers and caged her in between his arms. Rose snuck her hand into the Doctor’s pants and grasped his cock. “Rose!”

“You’ll find I can be very, very good at being very, very bad.”

“Bloody hell!”

The Doctor lifted Rose’s hips up and dragged her knickers down her legs. When they were free, she wrapped them around his waist and pulled him down for a kiss.

He dropped his hand between her legs and ran his fingers along her slit. Her head fell back as he entered her with one finger and then another. She blindly pulled at his clothing and pushed them away from his body as best she could.

“Doctor, if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to-,” she cut off as he yanked her to the very edge of the desk.

He lined himself up to her entrance and slowly pushed into her heat.

They both stopped breathing for a moment until Rose wriggled against him. He pistoned his hips and withdrew before slamming back into her. Rose braced her arms behind her sending Santa’s lists fluttering off the desktop.

Rose giggled earning a glare from the Doctor. “Sorry, but I think I’m literally on the naughty list.”

“You’re too coherent is what you are.”

The Doctor reached a hand to his wife’s temple and caressed the side of her face. With the next thrust of his hips re-entered her body as well as her mind. The sensation of being filled by him body and soul ramped up her arousal like it always did and she had to work at not coming then and there.

The Doctor for his part adjusted the angle he was entering her so that with every pass he was hitting her clit.

Rose’s breathing turned ragged and she clenched her muscles around the Doctor’s cock dragging a moan from him.

“Come for me, Rose.”

“I need-”

“What, darling? What do you need?”

She shook her head from side to side and met each of his thrusts.

“Love?”

Frantically, Rose pulled the Doctor closer and rested her temple against his. One of his hands fluttered to her chest, pushed her bra up, and squeezed the soft flesh.

“Oh!”

His agile fingers flicked over the nipple and Rose screamed her release. Her orgasm pulsed through their bond and pushed the Doctor into his own climax. Their mutual pleasure rippled back and forth drawing the experience out for the both of them. The Doctor’s legs gave way and he collapsed onto Rose.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Rose ran her hands up and down the Doctor’s back. He hadn’t even taken off his coat she realized with some amusement. They hadn’t had a shag like that in ages.

The Doctor finally pushed off of her and helped her straighten her undergarments. He handed her her clothing and then tucked himself back into his pants and trousers.

Rose jumped off the desk and fixed the papers that they’d knocked off as best she could.

“God. I can’t believe we just did that.” She ambled over to the door and grinned at the Doctor over her shoulder. “Let’s go find-” She pulled open the door to see Santa standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “Santa!”

Rose blushed and attempted to smooth her clothing as if that would hide what they’d just been doing. Santa sniffed, the heavy sent of sex still strong in air.

The Doctor opened his mouth, but Santa just raised his hand and sighed. “If you had to pick a night to visit, at least you’re here at a time when I needed you.”

Rose blinked, suddenly tongue tied.

The Doctor walked up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. “Oh? What seems to be the problem, Nick?”

“The sled’s thermal regulator is on the blink. Can’t take the chance it’ll go while I’m off delivering tonight.”

“That’s easy. I can fix that up in no time.”

“Your sled has an engine? What about the reindeer?”

The Doctor looked at Rose as if she’d dribbled on her shirt.

“Well, how was I supposed to know Santa is real, but the reindeer aren’t?”

Santa grabbed his belly as he chuckled. “Oh, ho ho, my dear, the reindeer are as real as I am. They’re in the yard outside playing. They just haven’t flown the sled in years. I don’t know why they stopped, but I didn’t want to push them to do something they didn’t want to anymore when I had the technology to fly the sleigh without them.”

“So they just hang about?”

“Yes. It’s a little lonelier out there without them, but I love them all the same.”

“Can I see them, while you and the Doctor tinker?”

“I don’t tinker, Rose Tyler! I am an expert in mechanical-”

Rose kissed the Doctor’s cheek before looping her arm in his and heading for the barn where the sled and reindeer were. “You absolutely tinker, sweetheart.”

Rose was so excited to see the reindeer - Rudolph really did have a bright red nose - that she didn’t even notice when the Doctor and Father Christmas slipped off together to look over the issue with the sled’s engine.

The deer for their part seemed to love Rose as well. They surrounded her and jostled each other for her attention.

Rose ran her hand along Rudolph’s flank and his nose lit up a bright red. Rose clapped her hands as all the reindeer took off galloping around the paddock hopping and jumping with joy. Rudolph kicked off the fencing to launch himself into the air. Rose’s breath caught in her throat as he raced across the sky twirling and looping against the inky backdrop.

The other deer bounced around the pen trying to follow, but couldn’t get more than a few feet off the ground.

Rose’s fingers sparked with golden energy and her eyes took on a similar glow.

The reindeer rubbed against Rose and with each touch of her hand against their heads and necks, they shimmered with energy from Bad Wolf. Before long, Santa’s whole herd was flying and frolicing in the air.

“Well, I’ll be…”

Rose turned her head and saw Santa standing along the fence line watching the reindeer with a gobsmacked expression on his face.

“Why’d they stop pulling the sleigh? They look so happy up there flying.”

“My dear, this is the first they’ve flown in nearly 35 years. I...I can’t believe it.”

Rose held up her hands and looked at her palms. “Oh.”

Santa asked, “How’d you do it? Get them to fly again?”

“I…”

The Doctor walked up behind her and kissed the back of her neck before resting his hand on her waist. “She’s fantastic, my wife.”

Santa nodded while watching his pets. “That she is, Doctor. More impressive than you at any rate.”

At the Doctor’s affronted gasp, Santa grabbed his belly and laughed. His twinkling eyes met Rose’s and he winked. Her grin widened and a hint of her tongue poked out the side.

“I’m so glad you came to visit tonight, Doctor, Rose.”

“It was our pleasure.”

Santa’s smile turned wicked and Rose blushed. “Shut up. I didn’t mean like that!”

“Don’t worry about it, I do understand. Come back to the house and meet my wife. And you have to promise to have dinner with us in the new year.” Santa began walking toward his home with the Doctor and Rose trailing behind him.

“Oh, we’d love to! Wouldn’t we, Doctor?” Rose turned to the Doctor and he couldn’t say no to her in the best of times, let alone when her eyes were shining brightly and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

“If you’d like.” He took her hand and continued onward.

At the door of Santa’s cottage were a pair of identical, arguing elves.

“I’m telling you-”

“No! I’m telling you-”

“Cane. Candy. Enough with the yelling. The lads are coming out with me tonight and they need to be hitched up to the sleigh.”

Both elves turned in unison, mouths dropped open. “Are you feeling okay, sir?”

“The deer haven’t flown in decades.”

“Maybe we should call the missus to check you for a fever.”

“Do you have the chills?”

“Maybe you’re feeling hot and clammy?”

“Oh, hush you two.” A young and gorgeous redhead came to the door shaking her head. She leaned in and kissed Santa on the cheek. “Now go on and do as Santa asked so you can come back and have my gingerbread and cocoa.”

The Doctor’s eyes had gone wide, and Mrs. Claus grinned wickedly. “What? You’re the only 2000 year old alien allowed to have a hot, young human wife?”

The Doctor’s eyes widened even further and Rose covered her mouth in an attempt to smother her giggles. “She’s got you there, Doctor.”

Rose and Mrs. Claus shared a smile. “My name’s Holly. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Doctor and Rose Tyler. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, thank you. I, uh...how’d you know about us or well me? I’ve never met Santa before.”

Holly’s nose crinkled with her laugher. “No, but, well, Nick just knows these things. And when he met the Doctor a few years back, you or rather your absence really made an impression, so when we heard you were back in this universe-”

“How on Earth did you find that out?”

Holly shrugged. “Everybody nowadays has an Elf on a Shelf. They’re like nanny cams for Nick and the other Noellians ”

“No!”

Holly nodded at Rose. “Yup. There’s very little that happens on Earth, that Nick doesn’t know.”

“Isn’t that a little...I don’t know, unethical?”

“Why? It says right on the box that the Scout Elves report back to the North Pole.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think people really believe that.”

Mrs. Claus laughed. “Probably not, but…,” her mouth pulled into a wry smile, “how much more honest can we be about it?”

Rose bit her lip.

“Enough about that. Come in for some hot cocoa, we have another 15 minutes before Nick has to hit the sky.”

--

The fire in the TARDIS library was crackling and giving off authentic waves of heat. Rose was cuddled up against the Doctor’s side, eyes fighting to stay open. “Ho’ come you never tol’ me you met the real Santa b'fore?”

The Doctor ran his hand along Rose’s arm and kissed the crown of her head. “I thought it was a hallucination caused by the psychic attack by a telepathic, alien parasite.”

Rose’s eyes snapped open and focused on the Doctor’s profile. “You wha’?”

“I didn’t realize he was real.”

After a long drawn out moment, Rose’s giggles got the better of her and she collapsed backward onto the rug.

The Doctor braced his arms on either side of her. “Are you quite alright, love?”

Her chest rose and fell with the effort of calming her breathing. “Tryna catch my breath.”

“Would you like some of mine?”

Rose’s tongue poked out from between her teeth. “That might be a good idea.” She lifted her hands to the back of the Doctor’s head and ran her fingers through the soft hair there.

She drew him to her and soon enough thoughts of anything but their shared pleasure was chased from their minds.