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h0tch-r0cket · 3 years ago

Text

Infatuation (18+) {a.h.} : chapter 7

summary: you needed a job. aaron hotchner needed a babysitter. the rest was inevitable.

word count: 4.2K

warnings: explicit language, mentions of cigarettes

table of contents

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You would have been lying to yourself if you tried to deny the fact that for the rest of the night and into the early morning you had the biggest grin on your face, thinking about going to Aaron's lecture the next day.

Aaron Hotchner's lecture.

The professor Aaron Hotchner's lecture.

Your boss, Aaron Hotchner's lecture.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when he called out your name the night prior as you were about to pull away from his house. You figured maybe he was going to tell you something with Jack, maybe tell you that he was changing your pay day, or say something else that came into his head about the book. You most definitely weren't expecting him to invite you to his lecture and for the thought of attending to keep you up in anticipation for the majority of the night.

As you got ready for Aaron to come pick you up, your stomach was doing somersaults in anticipation. You wished that Esmé was around to calm your nerves but since she was doing an overnight at the ER again, you probably wouldn't see her until the next day when she was all rested up.

After going through what felt like a million different outfits, you settled on wearing a tan blazer with a white undershirt and a pair of black slacks. You figured since you were going to the university with Aaron that you had to have some degree of a professional looking outfit on.

You sat on the edge of your bed, putting on a pair of heels when you heard your phone vibrate on your nightstand. You grabbed it quickly and felt your nerves going haywire when you realized that all of this was actually happening. That Aaron did actually invite you to watch his lecture and offer to drive you.

You glanced at the message that you received from him and the smile that refused to leave your face only grew a bit wider at his words.

Aaron Hotchner

-Good morning, Y/N. Should be over to your place in about 10 minutes.

With nimble fingers, you responded back to him, letting him know that you would be all set to go when he got there.

You no sooner finished getting ready, doing your hair and putting on a little bit of makeup, when you heard the familiar sound of his car alarm go off.

The adrenaline rushed through your veins as you started to gather your things. You took a quick glance around your apartment to make sure you weren't missing anything when firm knocks sounded on your door.

Here we go, you thought as you unlocked the door to reveal Aaron waiting patiently for you.

He was wearing a black button up and pants to match, your eyes quickly glancing to where he had the top button of the shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing his slightly toned arms. You were almost positive the man couldn't have gotten anymore attractive to you but yet here he was in the entrance of your apartment, proving you wrong.

A small smile fell across his lips as he, too, was taking a moment to look at you. He didn't know how each time he saw you, you looked effortlessly stunning.

"Morning," he said, breaking the bit of silence that was between the two of you.

"How are you?" you asked as you stepped outside your apartment, turning around to lock up.

"I'm doing alright." He stood behind you as you locked the door, his presence and close proximity sending a shiver down your body. When you turned back in his direction, his eyes were already searching for yours. "Ready to go?"

You nodded your head and followed behind him as he led you to his car. He opened the passenger door for you and gestured for you to get in. You said a quiet thank you, adjusting yourself in the seat as he shut the door and went around the front of the car to the drivers side.

His car had the faintest smell of the lingering cigarettes that was overpowered by his cologne when he got into it. He settled in his seat, turning the radio on low. He turned his head towards you and glanced at his watch. "I have some time to kill before I have to be in my first class. Do you want to go grab a cup of coffee?"

"That would be great. I could definitely use some," you said with a smile. He nodded his head and started the car.

He turned his head to back out of the parking spot, placing one of his hands on the back of your seat to get some leverage. You couldn't help but watch him, completely entranced with the way that his arm was a bit flexed from the grip of your seat, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent.

"I know a good place on the way to my job. I think you'll like it," he told you, pulling you out of your daze.

You could only muster a small sounds good as he began to drive to the coffee shop, still thinking about the way he gripped onto your seat.

It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it did but there you were at nearly 8 in morning, already mesmerized by Aaron Hotchner.

As Aaron drove, the gentle hum of the radio filled the air.

"So what's your lecture on today?" you asked, trying to see whether or not you knew what Aaron was going to be discussing for the day.

"I was going to talk about Pandora's Box, but I think I'm leaning towards talking about Zeus and some of the myths that involve him since there's so many," he explained as he pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop.

"Do you have a favorite myth to teach?" You saw a contemplating look on his face as he thought about as he exited the car. You got out too, waiting for his response, as the two of you walked side by side towards the entrance of the shop.

"I do like teaching about the Minotaur and the Labyrinth," he said as he held the door open for you. "But I don't know if that one is my favorite, you know?"

A woman behind the counter greeted the two of you as you stepped forward to offer. "What can I get for you folks today?" she asked.

"I'll take a black coffee, large," Aaron said.

The woman turned her attention towards you and waited for your order. You ordered your usual coffee blend and went to grab your wallet from your purse.

Aaron's hand stopped yours, pushing down the wallet back into your purse. "I got it." He handed the woman the money for the two coffees before you could even protest.

"Thank you but you didn't have to do that," you said as you stood in the area to wait for your drinks.

Aaron stood next to you, your arms brushing together. "I know. I wanted to," he said with a smirk as he looked down at you.

You could have melted from the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in the room. The only person that he cared about at that moment.

The woman called out Aaron's name and he grabbed the drinks, passing you yours. He took a sip of his coffee as he walked back towards the entrance, opening the door for you yet again as you followed suit.

"So what do you think? Good coffee or what?" Aaron asked as you got back into his car.

It was a pretty damn good cup of coffee. You took a sip and nodded as he started to drive towards the university. "Mhm. Hopefully it'll wake me up a bit," you laughed.

———

"Alright everybody. I hope you all have been keeping up with the readings because as you know, you have your next exam this Friday," Aaron said as he walked in front of the room of students.

You were sitting in the middle of the auditorium, off center from where Aaron was teaching.

Seeing Aaron teach was such a sight to behold, you weren't sure how you would be able to keep your composure. Watching him, completely capturing the attention of the students, the way he talked and presented himself practically screamed dominance in the given situation and the way he was so thorough, lived up to your hopes as to what you thought Aaron was like as a professor.

"So today, I figured we could introduce one of the major players in Greek Mythology," Aaron continued. He grabbed the Expo marker, scribbling down the word Zeus on the whiteboard. He closed the marker and turned his attention back to his students.

You watched as he crossed his arms across his chest, pacing slowly in front of the room. "We've already discussed how Hades is Zeus' brother. But going further into who he is, does anyone have any prior knowledge about him?" Aaron's eyes scanned the crowd, landing on yours for a few seconds, a brief smile showing on his face as he looked at you.

As much as he was trying to keep his head straight and proceed with the lesson, he found that hard to do with you sitting in the crowd. He couldn't help but look over in your direction, watching your face light up with excitement as he spoke. He tried not to look too long because he knew that he would have gotten stuck in a daze and completely lost his train of thought during the lecture.

A small part of him felt nervous to have you there. It wasn't because of the clear knowledge you had of the subject matter, but because of the idea that he didn't want to mess anything up. He was silently praying that the lecture went off without a hitch and that when he finally spoke to you about it afterwards that you actually enjoyed your time there and he didn't bore you half to death.

"He's, like, the god of the sky or something like that," a student answered his question. Aaron nodded and turned to the whiteboard again, writing down what the student said.

"Very good, Mr. McMillan. Glad to see we're actually paying attention to the content today," he said with a small smile as he leaned against the podium next to the board. He clasped his hands together on top of the podium as he was waiting for someone else to chime in with their thoughts.

"Zeus is a man-whore," a student from the back of the auditorium called out confidently.

Aaron laughed lightly, his eyes wide at the response of his student. "I mean, I guess that is one way to put it," he agreed. "It is true. Zeus did in fact have many lovers and many children. Even though he was married to Hera, he had many affairs. That's actually what we're going to talk about today. Or at least one of his many known affairs."

You sat in your seat, almost in awe at the passion you saw radiating from Aaron as he spoke. The way he talked about the subject matter, clearly emphasizing what was important, and even taking the time to make sure his students were able to take thorough notes.

But the pesky little thing you had for Aaron was acting up, causing you to focus on different details rather than the lecture.

You focused in on the way the black button up was snug against his torso, making you wonder what he was hiding underneath it. As he continued to speak, your eyes became fixated on his arms as they flexed when he gestured with them through his speaking. Even as he was writing things down on the whiteboard, you focused on his grip of the marker, like he was holding onto it as a lifeline.

He, in fact, was gripping the marker with a firm grasp because of his nerves. He wasn't sure if he was just in his head because of the added pressure, but he was almost positive that almost every time he looked at you, you were focusing on some part of him as he taught. He was hoping that he wasn't imagining it. He was hoping that if you were looking at him like the way he thought, that you were going through the same conflict that he was.

That you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

"The first tale of Zeus we'll discuss is of Zeus and Io. Io was a mortal woman, the princess of Argos. Zeus fell in love with her and covered the Earth with clouds as a way to try to hide his relationship from Hera," Aaron explained. He propped himself up on the edge of his desk, giving the students a moment to catch up on their notes.

"Of course, Hera was a smart woman. Not to mention a jealous woman. She knew what Zeus was up to. So she came down from Mount Olympus to try to catch Zeus cheating. However, Zeus was deceptive. Anyone have any ideas as to what he may have done?" He glanced around the room again, as did you, trying to see if anyone had some sort of guess.

"Ms. Y/L/N. You're pretty well-versed in mythology aren't you? Care to tell the class what happened?" Aaron said, a smirk growing across his face as he looked at you. He peered over the heads of his students from where he was sitting atop of his desk to maintain his gaze.

You thought you were hearing things when he called out your last name. But when you saw he was looking at you, you realized quickly that he actually was testing you.

Almost like how you did with him when the two of you discussed the book only the night prior.

You sat up straighter in your seat, feeling everyone's eyes landing on you as they awaited your answer.

"Well, Professor Hotchner," you started, hoping that the way you said his name would have an effect on him, the way it rolled off your tongue so effortlessly with charm. You saw Aaron's mouth drop open a quick second as if he were stunned at the way you addressed him, but he cleared his throat, staring at you with furrowed brows as you began to answer. "Zeus turned Io into a white heifer. It was his way of disguising Io so that Hera wouldn't see her. And when Hera wanted the cow as a gift, Zeus had to give it to her so she wouldn't be suspicious."

Aaron nodded his head in approval, yet again impressed by you. He was becoming more and more enamored with you each and every moment that you spent together, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his feelings to himself. How much longer he could go without your touch, without being able to tell you how he loved your smile, without holding you in his arms at night to be the first thing that he wakes up to.

He was growing tired of listening to the words of the angel on his shoulder.

He was going to tell you all of these things and word them better. But for now, the words that he was able to compose in his head would have to do as he continued on with the lecture.

"Very good. Excellent, Ms. Y/L/N. Zeus knew that he couldn't resist Io. He had to have her. He would do anything in his power to be able to be with her." Aaron hopped off his desk and started to pace around the room again. He stopped in front of the section that you were sitting in, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at you. He sent you a small smile and you saw the way that his face softened for a second as he continued to look at you.

"He was completely and utterly infatuated with her," he said, his voice quiet as he continued to look at you. "And he knew it was wrong but he didn't care. For Chrissakes," he said as he threw his hands up in the air as he turned away from you, "The worst part of it all, in my opinion, was that he didn't care what others thought." He chuckled lightly as he walked, shaking his head in disbelief.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you watched him.

He stood behind his desk and leaned on it, looking down at the scattered papers in front of him. "He didn't care what happened as long as he got to be with Io." He lifted his head and without hesitation, he looked at you again.

You couldn't help but feel the words he was saying ripple through your entire body.

And then all too quickly, the emotions that you tried to push deep down whenever you were with Aaron began to make an appearance.

The excitement and attraction that you felt from Aaron's general presence, now swarming through your entire body as you realized that maybe he felt the same way. You took his words as a silent plea of him admitting his feelings.

But of course, you didn't want to take anything for granted. As you shifted in your seat, you were determined to figure out what the hell just happened and why it felt as though the stars were finally aligned and you could get what you wanted.

And you wanted Aaron Hotchner more than you wanted any man before.

Aaron was never one to completely ignore common sense and succumb to his desires. But in that moment, he dove head first into the situation, hoping that you picked up on his intentions through the subliminal message of the lecture.

He cleared his throat, regaining whatever capacity of a clear head that he had left to wrap up his lecture. "Hera arranged for Argus, the giant, to watch over Io to prevent Zeus from seeing her. Of course, that wouldn't sit well with the god of the sky so he instructed Hermes to go retrieve his beloved from the giant. Hermes was successful in setting Io free but the story goes that Hera sent the mother of all gadflies after her to continuously sting her." Aaron clapped his hands together loudly, grabbing the attention of the few students that seemed to be a bit distracted.

"That's all I have for you guys today. Remember, my office hours are canceled for the day. I'll see you all next class."

The room quickly emptied itself of its students, leaving you and Aaron in the auditorium. You gathered your things, still trying to process and decode whatever it was that just happened in the lecture.

Aaron gathered his papers together in his satchel and glanced up at you as you walked down to his desk. "So, what did you think?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

You so desperately wished to ask him if what he said about the myth was about him. If he really felt that way about you. But for the time being, you held your tongue and decided to ask him when you got in the car when you had some proper time to think about what it was that you wanted to say exactly.

"It was really great. I enjoyed it. Well, except the part where you called me out of the crowd," you teased, nudging him in the arm softly as the two of you started to walk back out of the building to his car.

"I think it was only fair. You gave me a test so I figured one question in return makes us about even," he said cockily.

You scoffed as you walked, kicking a pebble at your feet. You watched the pebble bounce on the sidewalk, landing a few feet in front of Aaron's stride. "I gave you time to study," you retorted.

"Mine was a pop quiz then," he laughed. He looked down at the sidewalk, kicking the pebble back in your direction. You felt yourself smile at the gesture, especially since it was a bit of a habit that you picked up from the time that you spent with Jack.

The two of you settled into the car, the buildup of the obvious tension from the day lingering in the air.

You turned to look at Aaron to find him already looking at you.

"Look, Y/N-"

"Look, Aaron-"

The two of you said the words at the same time, a small laugh coming from both of you. Aaron waved his hands towards you as his way of telling you to go first.

"You can go first," you told him with a light laugh. You figured it would give you more time to think of what you wanted to say to him anyway.

"Alright." He exhaled deeply and shifted in the driver's seat to fully look at you. "Y/N, I just wanted to say thank you for coming today. It meant a lot to me that you did." You nodded, a small smile curling up at the edge of your lips. Aaron's eyes darted down to your lips before they returned to yours as he continued to talk. "I also just wanted to tell you that I really appreciate everything that you have done for Jack and I."

He reached his hand forward, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You felt like you were in a haze. His touch was driving you insane. But when he rested his hand on your cheek, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb as his eyes were full of admiration for you, only then did your skin feel like it was being ignited by his touch.

You thought you were imagining things. You thought you were going crazy as the gap between you and Aaron closed, as he brought his head closer to yours while moving your head forward at the same time.

"Y/N, you're something else," he whispered, his face only inches away from yours. "And you deserve the world."

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you felt the inches growing less and less between the two of you. You placed your hand on top of his, wrapping your fingers around his.

"Y/N," he muttered, as his nose brushed against yours while he tilted his head to get to your lips.

You heard your heart pounding in your ears. You couldn't believe that it was happening. This only showed you that he did indeed feel the same way. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Everything was moving in slow motion. You felt as though your lips would never find his.

Only mere inches apart.

Inches.

An inch.

Aaron's phone blared in his pocket, taking over the moment. He let out an aggravated sigh as he pressed his forehead against yours for a moment, his eyes shut in disappointment. "Fuck," he muttered, almost so quietly you weren't positive if that was what he said. He removed his hand from your cheek, sitting back up in his seat as his hands dug in his pocket for his phone. He read the caller ID and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's Jack's school," he said as he held the phone up to his ear. "Aaron Hotchner."

Your brain felt like mush. You almost kissed Aaron and he was the one to initiate it all. You could still feel his hand on your cheek and the adrenaline running through your body as the gap slowly closed between the two of you. You sat back in your seat, pressing your head against the headrest as you only heard incoherent mumbles from Aaron as he spoke on the phone.

You stared blankly out the window, trying to wrap your mind around what the fuck just happened.

Aaron's hand resting on your shoulder pulled you out of your trance as he looked at you with concern. "Y/N? Did you hear what I said? I have to go get Jack from school early. He got sick."

You couldn't speak. Couldn't think. You only managed to nod your head at him. He took his hand off your shoulder, putting the car in drive. "I'll drop you off at home. Don't worry about coming over today. I'll just cancel the rest of my lectures for the day to be with him."

You nodded again as you watched the buildings of the campus speed by your vision as he drove.

You had to talk to him about everything from that day.

From his words at the lecture to the way that he almost fucking kissed you, you weren't even sure where to begin.

All you knew for certain was that you would be thinking about where that kiss would have led you if you weren't interrupted.

------

author's note:

hello hello! another chapter for you all! and i'm not even sorry for how i ended it lol

i hope you're all prepared for the next few...the next one will make things a little...twisted??

see you soon!

-jordyn

#aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #bau #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n

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icedthoma · 5 years ago

Note

Out of spite with Todoroki, please. Congratulations on being here for a whole year! Hopefully you will be here for many more!

6. Out of spite

Pro hero AU!

Thank you so much lovely anon!! Hope you enjoy! (Also a big thank u to @katsukiscaramel for all ur help)

You were pretty sure you were the only person in this entire agency that hated Todoroki Shouto.

Well, hate might be too harsh. You didn’t love him, that was for sure. A graduate from the prestigious UA high (who got in on recommendation), a powerful quirk and connections to the hero world, his future had always looked bright. Meanwhile you were over here having tragically failed the entrance exam at UA, having to go to a hero study course at a lesser known academy instead.

Well, you were thankful for all the hard work you had put in over your high school years that helped you become the hero you were today. It just seriously pissed you off how some people had everything laid at their feet from a young age solely because of their renowned last name. And to you, Pro Hero Shouto was one of them.

Which was why you felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever working at his agency just because of the good reputation it would give you. If he could use his father’s last name to get him into UA, why couldn’t you use his hero name to add to your resume? You honestly needed all the help you could get.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to watch several of your coworkers develop a hopeless crush on Todoroki, only to get crushed themselves as they came to the eventual realization that they absolutely had no chance. It also didn’t help that he was painfully blunt with his words, yet frustratingly oblivious at the same time. Todoroki Shouto unknowingly left a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he went, and you were definitely not going to be one of them.

“Y/n.”

Shouto’s voice called out to you from where you had just passed his office, back at the agency for a short break before you resumed patrols, and you instinctively groaned. Plastering a smile on your face, you backtracked and stuck your head into his room. “Yes?”

“Come in, please.”

Wondering briefly if you were about to get fired, you edged in and stood with your hands behind your back, looking anywhere but the hero sitting at his desk. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“No,” Todoroki said quietly, and you were uncomfortably aware of his gaze on you from the corner of your eye. What could he possibly want with you?

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable minute before he sighed and grabbed a stack of papers, straightening them despite the fact that they were already neatly together. “The--the coffee machine is empty.”

“W-what? Do you want me to refill it?” you asked. You couldn’t believe your ears. He called you in here to refill the stupid coffee machine?

“Yes.” You couldn’t see his expression because of the papers he was holding. At least you were spared the view of his smug face that had succeeded in wasting your time.

“Yes, sir.” Biting down the rising retort on the tip of your tongue, you quickly dashed out of the room before he could say anything else, and so he couldn’t see your fuming face. Who did he think he was? You were just as much of a hero as he was, not his personal assistant.

“Hey, Y/n!”

“Save it. I’m not in the mood right now,” you spat out, walking right past your fellow coworker on your way to the break room.

“Woah, cool down. Aren’t you supposed to be out on patrols right now?”

“Yeah, before someone called me into their office and had me stand there for a whole minute just to tell me to refill the coffee machine.” You let out a noise of frustration, hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I honestly don’t get what you see in him.”

“Not this again,” your friend groaned, rushing forward to keep up with your brisk walking speed. “I swear you have some personal vendetta against him or something. Is that why you decided to apply here? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer--”

“I am not,” you protested, refilling the machine like the dutiful sidekick you were. “Do you actually need something from me?”

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot. I was asked to tell you that you were requested to be at a mission briefing after you got back from patrols. Which was why I was surprised to run into you!”

“What? By who?”

“Who else? Todoroki, of course.”

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

This day could not get any worse.

Folding your arms even tighter against your chest, you forced yourself to focus on the folder in front of you and not on the red and white-haired man across the table. You and Shouto were to go undercover at a large party happening in a few days to apprehend a villain involved in several illegal drug deals--or something along those lines.

Awkward silences always seemed to follow you and Todoroki around, and this time was no exception. “I...look forward to working with you,” he offered after a moment, holding his hand out.

You may not like him, but that didn’t mean you were going to be rude. Plastering a smile on your face, you reached out and shook his hand firmly. “Likewise.”

Sidekicks usually patrolled around the city or were backup when necessary. So why were you the one chosen to go on a mission of this type with him?

Probably because fate hated you.

In a few days, you and Todoroki were headed over to the party, dressed somewhat formally and masks in hand to match the theme. You had to admit Shouto did look rather dashing in his white suit that complimented his eyes well. Next to him, you felt like a boring mud puddle.

“Do you see him anywhere?” he asked quietly from where the two of you were seated at the bar. His eyes seemed to shine from within the mask he was wearing, dual colors of blue and brown glittering at you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well, in that case...” Shouto took a sip of the water glass he was holding. “Let’s talk.”

Raising an eyebrow, you mirrored his actions and drank from your own glass, looking at him from over the rim. “About what?”

He shrugged, one hand supporting his chin and the other lazily spinning his drink around. “Anything.”

“I really do think we should be focusing on the mission,” you said, ignoring the prickly feeling settling upon you to do another quick once-over around the slightly crowded venue. You couldn’t believe him. Why was he wasting time trying to make small talk?

“Well, we came early,” Todoroki pointed out. “It’s likely he won’t be here for a while. So...why don’t you tell me more about yourself? While we wait.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the two of you were on a date from the way he was acting. “Um, okay. I’m Y/n L/n, and I’ve been working as your sidekick for a year and a half.”

He laughed at that, a quiet chuckle that he tried to muffle with his hand over his mouth. “I know all that already. What about what got you into wanting to be a hero?”

Sighing, you went along with his antics. "I wanted to make my mark in the world of heroism. Everyone told me it would be hard since I couldn’t get into all the fancy schools like UA, but I’m going to prove them wrong.”

“You applied to UA?” You could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Yep, though I failed the entrance exam. But you went there, right? What was it like?”

“Well, I had to meet very high expectations because of my father’s legacy,” he sighed, forming a small cube of ice within his fingers to plop into his water. “I always felt like I wasn’t doing enough.”

“But you’re practically perfect--” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, instantly slamming a hand over your mouth afterward. “Crap--that was out of line, I--”

“You...you think I’m perfect?” Todoroki repeated, and you really couldn’t tell whether he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. You also weren’t sure which you would have preferred.

“Well, yeah. You have a strong quirk, graduated from the UA to start your own agency only a few years after, and you’re popular with the ladies. You’re on your way to a shining career in herosim.”

“Did you really have to mention that last bit?”

“I mean, it’s true. I can think of five people who’ve had a crush on you in the past month.” You couldn’t stop your tone from going a little flat at the end, mostly because the fact so many people wanted him romantically was the bane of your existence. Why was he acting embarrassed about it, anyway? As far as you knew, getting people’s hopes up was his hobby. “We’ve been sitting here for too long,” you murmured, grabbing his hand to tug him to his feet. “Let’s dance.”

He allowed you to pull him to the center of the dance floor, lacing his fingers with yours and letting his other hand rest on your waist before you even had to ask. In between glancing around the room for the villain you were after, you cast multiple side glances at the side of Shouto’s face. Calm and collected as usual.

Todoroki Shouto had the life you could only dream of. Regardless of your every struggle to claw your way up in hero society, you knew you would never attain his level. You were destined to be nothing more than a sidekick who could be ordered around at a higher ranking hero’s whim. You still hadn’t forgotten how he had made you stand in his office for a whole minute in silence before sending you off to refill the coffee machine, of all things.

It wasn’t fair, and you hated it.

“Todoroki.”

“Hmm?” You almost went cross-eyed at how close he had ended up being after turning his head your way. His nose was barely brushing the tip of yours, his every exhale like a ghost whispering across the surface of your skin despite the mask you were wearing. “Did you spot...him?”

Without thinking, you closed your eyes and leaned in, raising your mouth to his before the rational part of your mind caught up with you. His lips were soft and fit perfectly against yours (though, to be honest, anyone would probably say that if they were kissing the Todoroki Shouto). You didn’t expect him to reciprocate the kiss, however, his lips opening slightly for a moment only to press harder against you a second later. The crowd was your ally, no one bothering to look upon the two of you when there were many more masked figures around you doing the same thing.

You broke away, only noticing now how his grip on you had tightened ever since you had initiated the kiss. Your face was burning with shame, and you couldn’t believe that you had kissed him in the middle of your frustrations, in the middle of a mission. In a complete contrast to what you were feeling at the moment, Todoroki was actually smiling. His mask was slightly askew and his face was beet red, but he was giving you the biggest grin you had ever seen from him despite the terrible mistake you had just made.

“Wow,” he breathed, the hand on your waist flying up to run through his hair. “I never thought...you felt the same way I did.”

What?

Shouto was rambling now, voice uncharacteristically brighter and not letting you get a word in edge-wise. You listened with growing horror as he told you briefly about his past, and how his friends at UA helped him work through his trauma to become a better person and believe in relying on others. “I love how you’re so hard working and determined to pursue what you’re passionate about,” he said earnestly. “I feel like we have that in common, because we’re so different from what everyone else says we are, or what we should be. I tried to find reasons to talk to you more often, but I only ended up making things weird, like--”

“The coffee machine,” you finished vaguely.

“Yeah,” he said, giving your hand (that had been encased in his this whole time) a gentle squeeze. “I apologize if I’m talking too much, I’m just so...”

You had been horribly misinterpreting this situation the whole time. It all made sense now. From the awkward way the two of you always interacted to why you of all people were requested to go on a mission like this...

How could you have judged him upon first glance, without even knowing his full story? You saw his family fame and strength and automatically assumed he had no problems in life whatsoever. The scar on his face was a sign of the pain he had faced in his past and overcome. How could you let your jealousy over something you couldn’t control overwhelm you to the point that you had kissed him out of pure spite?

He didn’t deserve to be lied to. Out of all the people he could have chosen to crush on, he chose you (a horrible decision, really). You had to tell him the truth.

“Todoroki,” you began hesitantly, already dreading the conversation to come. “Listen, I--”

“Wait,” Shouto hissed, pressing a finger over your mouth to gesture at a spot behind you. “He’s here. On your left. Are you ready?”

It was unnerving how quickly he slipped from looking like he was on cloud nine to focused on the mission, and it only made you more uneasy. Not trusting your voice at that moment, all you could do was nod, and he gave you another of those rare smiles you never saw offered to anyone else.

“Oh, and you can call me Shouto.”

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

Apprehending the villain was child’s play while working with pro hero Shouto. You had to admit you were slightly distracted the whole time at the fact that he had allowed you to be on first name basis with him literally seconds before.

But in no time at all the villain was being carted away by the police and you were standing in front of Todoroki once again in the middle of the road, his face illuminated by the bright lights of the city at nighttime. “Good work today, hero,” he said, taking off his mask to put it in his pocket, and you winced. After you told him the truth, would he still think the same way about you?

"I’m sorry,” you said, voice shaking despite your best efforts.

“What? What for?”

You explained everything to him. How you hated him in the beginning, purely because he had (or seemed to have) the life you wished you had out of your own self-interest. How you had judged him without even getting to properly know him first outside the rumors.

You could see the light in his eyes visibly fade the longer you kept talking. “Why did you kiss me, then?” he asked, voice pleading at the end like he was still trying to hold on to any hope that things between the two of you were going to turn out okay. “You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t return my affections, right?”

“I kissed you out of spite,” you whispered. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He scoffed, turning away so all you could see of him was his back. “To you.”

As he began to walk away, you saw that he had taken the mask from the party out of his suit pocket. There was a small thud as he let it fall from his fingers onto the concrete sidewalk, continuing down the road and leaving you on the sidewalk with nothing but your own regret to keep you company.

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

one year event masterlist

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mldrgrl · 5 years ago

Text

Ordinary People

by: mldrgrl Pairing: Hank Moody/Stella Gibson Rating: PG-13 Summary: In the Hanella universe, March 15th is Hank’s birthday. Today is March 15th. Also, in the Hanella universe, there is no coronavirus.

A/N: I usually don’t do these, but I just need to say, my creative drive is at an all time low. I’ve tried to get a few Hanella stories off the ground for months, with no success. I wanted to have this prepared for this morning, but it took me a painfully long time to put this together. With all the panic and anxiety happening around me, us, the world, hopefully this is a small contribution to put a smile on a few people’s faces. Stay safe everyone.

Hank likes Sunday mornings the best. By virtue of a long-held agreement, Sunday mornings are unhurried and unplanned. Afternoon brunch with Becca is usually on the calendar, but the mornings belong to them. That’s why, when Stella’s cellphone rings at 9am, and she answers it, Hank rolls over with a disgruntled groan.

“Of course,” Stella says, slipping out of bed and Hank’s searching grasp. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”

“Timeizit,” he mutters, coming up on his elbows, face scrunching as he struggles to fully open his eyes. “Where you goin’?”

“Go back to sleep,” is all she says, and then she disappears into the bathroom.

Hank flops back down to the bed and buries his head under the pillows. He tries to fall back to sleep, but he knows it’s futile. Groaning again, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He jams one fist against his eyes, rubbing the sleep out, and searches the floor blindly for the pair of shorts he’d whipped off and slingshotted at Stella the night before when they were on their way to bed. He knew they’d landed there somewhere.

Stella comes out of the bathroom in a peach silk camisole and navy blue panties. He perks up a little as she crosses towards him, but she’s only there at the side of the bed to retrieve her diamond earrings. As she afixes them in her ears, he hooks an arm around her waist and drags her into the space between his open knees.

“Go back to sleep,” she says again.

“Who was on the phone?” His voice is muffled as he rubs his face against her hip and tries to nuzzle her panties aside.

“School.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I just need to run up and take some exam notes around to my TA.”

“Can’t you email them?”

“I’ll be quick.” She wiggles her hips out of his clutches, but he pulls her back in.

“I can be quick too.” He gets his fingers under her panties to squeeze her right asscheek and tugs the left side down at the hip.

“Later, Watson.” She pushes him gently, but firmly away. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

He rubs the back of his head and unhappily watches her get dressed. It takes her less than two minutes to get into a pair of black, cropped pants, and a black and white striped sweater. She pulls on a pair of black flats and then she’s gone and he still hasn’t found his shorts.

Two hours later, Hank has showered, fiddled with the latest chapter of his novel, and accidentally watched an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, but Stella isn’t home. He receives a text at 11:30: Work issue to resolve taking longer than anticipated. Meet at Sarabeth’s for Becca brunch at 1. x - Sherlock. Because he’s annoyed, he texts back a sad face and an eggplant, hoping she feels guilty for leaving their bed for work. And he really wants her to know how unhappy his dick is about it. She doesn’t respond.

It’s a nice, unseasonably warm and sunny day with a cool, but gentle breeze, so he decides to walk to the upper west side to meet his wife and daughter. It takes a little more than an hour, and on the way, he feels guilty for trying to make Stella feel bad, so he stops and buys her a bouquet of blue roses. He probably has something to apologize for to Becca as well, so he gets her a colorful arrangement of daisies.

He’s early by ten minutes to Sarabeth’s and heads inside to try to get a table for three. He doesn’t have to though. He spots Becca at an upper level table and she waves at him. He points out his party to the hostess and then ascends the staircase, two at a time. It’s obvious to him something’s fishy by the wide smile on Becca’s face. Stella’s back is to him.

“Milady,” Hank says, handing Stella her bouquet. He presents the other to Becca with a nod. “Mi-other-lady.”

“What’s this for?” Stella asks.

“Being a general pain in the ass,” he answers as he sits down beside her. She laughs lightly and he places a lingering kiss to her cheek that she leans into. He catches the hand she lifts to stroke his face and kisses her fingers one by one and gives her hand a squeeze as he pulls away.

Becca still has the mysterious grin plastered on her face. Hank eyes her suspiciously. “Have you been dabbling with nitrous oxide, Daughter?”

“Can I give it to him?” Becca asks, shifting her eyes between Hank and Stella. She looks ready to burst with excitement, so much so it’s palpable.

“Go on.” Stella nods.

Becca turns and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a shoebox-sized package wrapped in silver paper and passes it over the table to Hank.

“Me?” Hank asks, accepting the package.

“Happy birthday!” Becca exclaims.

“Oh…” He’s forgotten. Never much of a celebrator of birthdays, he’s forgotten that today was March 15th. He looks from Becca to Stella. “You two conspired on something?”

Becca nods and grins. “Open it.”

“Alright.”

Hank tears through the silver paper and uncovers an old, wooden cigar box. It’s got more depth to it than boxes he’d ever seen before, fitting at least four rows of cigars deep by his estimate. And it’s weighty, so he doesn’t think it’s full of cigars. He flips up the aged metal latch at the front of the box and inside is a book. Not just any book, a hard copy, possibly first edition of Call it Sleep by Henry Roth.

“Oh,” he says.

“Keep opening!” Becca orders.

“Okay, okay.”

On closer inspection, before he even opens the book, he can see something is off about it. The pages seem strange, like they’ve been altered somehow. He opens the cover and on the inside is a small manila sleeve, stamped with PROPERTY OF MIAMI BEACH SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL. There’s even a checkout slot still embedded inside with return dates back to the 1940s. The copyright page indicates that it is not a first edition, but a fifth. He starts flipping the pages and that’s when he’s able to see how unique this book really is.

“What in the hell,” he murmurs. Pages have been replaced with handwritten notes. There are photos embedded inside. Polaroids, even. Part of the book has been hollowed out and a tiny bottle of airplane-sized Jack Daniels has been nestled inside.

“We called people,” Becca said. “Friends and stuff. Mom helped. Asked them to personalize something for the book for you.”

“All these notes and things are…”

“From everyone. Aunt Heather, mom, me, Stella, Fish, Charlie, Marcy-”

“I miss that bald little creep and Cokey Smurf.”

“Fish added the bottle of whiskey. He said to tell you there’s an adult-sized one waiting for you next time you come up to the house.”

“The Trout’s a good man.”

“We’ve been working on it for over a year.”

“Over a year?” Hank looks up, incredulous.

“It took awhile to get from person to person. It was Stella’s idea.”

He tries not to look surprised, but he can’t help it. Stella has never revealed a creative side to him. “Really?”

“Something I read about.” She waves a hand, dismissively. “I didn’t invent the concept. I just thought it might be something you’d enjoy.”

“I do. It’s really...it’s just really...” Hank stops. He finds himself choking up a little.

Stella leans over, kisses his ear and whispers, “Happy birthday, love.”

“Which pages...where do I find your notes?” he asks.

“Read them later.”

“Aunt Heather painted silhouettes of the city skyline on some of the pages,” Becca says.

“I’m going to go over all of this with a fine tooth comb when I get home. Thank you, ladies.”

“And Karen,” Stella adds. “She was the perfect liaison.”

“I can’t believe you guys did this. I can’t believe anyone would do this. For me.”

“We love you.” Becca smiles broadly and then gets out of her seat. She gives Hank a hug and then straightens. “Have to run to the bathroom. Be right back.”

When Becca leaves, Hank turns to Stella. “You didn’t have to go up to work today, did you?”

“No, I had to pick up that box.” She nods down to the cigar box on the table. “We were able to acquire it last minute from a flea market auction and only had a small window of opportunity to pick it up.”

“This was really incredible. Thank you. I can’t wait to find what you contributed.”

“I haven’t added mine yet.”

“No?”

“It’s with me. It’s just too...personal.”

“Something you wrote?”

She nods.

“Will you read it to me later?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can read it yourself.” She blushes and turns her face away from him.

He runs his fingers through her hair and then cups her cheek and brings her gaze back to his. “Do I get a birthday blow job tonight or is this old library book my only gift?”

She chuckles and takes up the bouquet he’d given her from her lap to smack him on the leg with it. He kisses her once, twice, and then goes in deep on a third. She’s breathless when he pulls away.

“I love you, Sherlock,” he says.

“Happy birthday, Watson.”

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #little bit of fluff and humor #hank moody #stella gibson #californication #the fall

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morningfears · 6 years ago

Text

On the Air

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When you’re stuck in a radio production class as an elective and paired up for radio broadcasts, you don’t really expect much to come out of it. But with Joe, anything is possible. (Slow-burn [honestly, glacial burn, I guess] friends-to-lovers college AU, the most self-indulgent bullshit I could’ve written because I’m in love with this precious human person at the moment).

Word Count: 8k

“A seven a.m. class should be illegal.”

It’s not quite seven in the morning, the sun has barely risen and the only lights on in the production building are the ones in the lobby, the ones in the hallway leading up to the classroom you’re occupying, and the ones in the classroom you and seven other students who look like they’re beginning to rethink their life choices are sitting in. You hum a noncommittal noise of acknowledgment as you reach for the travel mug filled to the brim with iced coffee that you’d brought from home because the coffee shop on campus doesn’t even open until seven and you, for some reason beyond your realm of comprehension, are going to be stuck in a class at that time.

“Is there a reason we’re here so early or is this just a production thing?” you question as you frown at the clock hanging above the blackboard.

The girl beside you, a brunette dressed head-to-toe in sorority letters and nursing her own travel mug of iced coffee, shrugs. She follows your gaze to glance at the clock and huffs before she drops her head forward to rest on the table in front of her. “I’m not a production major of any kind,” she informs you, her voice muffled by her arms as she attempts to block the harsh florescent lights, “I’m a fucking interior design major.”

“No offense,” you laugh as you glance at the clock and note that the professor is likely going to be late, giving you a moment to continue your conversation and hopefully make a friend in the class that you know no one else in, “but why are you taking this class, then? There has to be a ton of other electives you could’ve taken.”

“I wanted to take bowling but it had to be a three hour course and everything else sounded so fucking hard,” she sighs as she turns her head just far enough to glance at you with one eye. “I’m graduating in December. I am so incredibly over everything.”

“I fully get that,” you nod. “Maybe this class won’t be so bad, then,” you offer with a hopeful smile. “I mean, it’s radio production. It can’t be that bad, right?”

The brunette reaches for her coffee mug and lifts her head to take a sip just as the door to the classroom swings open. A tall man, vaguely reminiscent of Bill Nye, complete with a bowtie and the same eager smile, steps into the room with two students trailing behind him. He waves the pair of them toward a table and you glance over at them. The blonde looks sleepy and somewhat sheepish while the red-head looks blissfully unaware of the eight sets of eyes on him as he scribbles in a beat up composition book. The blonde is cute, his baby face and pretty eyes offset by flushed cheeks is enough to make anyone swoon, but your attention is drawn to the red-head. You watch as he scribbles in his notebook, hair mussed and eyes tired. You can only see the profile of his face but it’s nice enough and you wonder what he’s writing that’s got him in such a state.

However, before you can spend too long wondering, the professor drops his bag onto the table at the front of the room and claps his hands.

“Good morning, everyone,” he begins with a smile, his tone far too chipper for such an early start time, “I am Maxwell Blake but you can all just call me Doc. I’m sorry I was a little late this morning. I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again and I ask the same of all of you.”

“Not fucking likely,” you hear the girl beside you mumble and you want to agree because, really, who is alert enough to make it to a seven a.m. class on time three days a week, but you think better of it and keep silent as Doc continues.

“I know that some of you are music production or audio engineering majors and have a little experience with radio but for those of you who are not or do not have the experience, I’ll tell you that this class will be a little different than the others you’ve taken. There are no papers, no final exams, no midterm exams; this is an entirely practical course. I’m going to be pairing you all up,” and when the groaning starts, he waves his hand, “yes, I’m going to pair you all up, and then you’ll get to work on your project. Over the semester, you’re all going to broadcast once a week starting two weeks from today, giving you fourteen weeks of content.

You and your partner can either take turns at the controls and broadcast as a single act or you can work the controls together as you broadcast as a duo. The format is entirely up to you. The content is entirely up to you. I will be assigning you a partner and a studio time. The email that you all sent me in August, the one with your schedule on it, that helped me with the pairings. I paired you up based on complementary schedules.”

The room is silent, in part because it’s too fucking early to be sitting in a classroom, as Doc searches through the worn leather satchel he’d dropped onto the table moments ago. “Ah,” he hums as he finds a crinkled sheet of paper, highlighted and looking as if it had seen better days, “here we go. Alright, when I call your name, raise your hand so your partner can spot you. After we’re all paired up, you can join your partner and begin brainstorming. As there are only five groups, we’ll have individual training sessions and then a day of troubleshooting and question and answer before we begin broadcasting. Now, on to the list!”

Doc takes his time ensuring the pairings all spot one another as he goes through the list. His planned pairings have somehow worked in the favor of nearly everyone in the room. The people who had entered the classroom together seem to be getting paired together and that leaves you with a feeling that you’re going to be stuck with the sorority girl. Regardless of your attempt to befriend her, you’re not sure you can produce fourteen weeks of radio content with her. So, when her name (Meredith, you now know) is called and she’s paired with the blonde that walked in late, you breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Until, of course, you realize that leaves you with a complete stranger who still has yet to acknowledge the class going on around him.

Doc calls your name and informs you that you’ve been paired with Joseph Mazzello. When you raise your hand and the red-head you now know is named Joseph does not, Doc sighs. “Joe,” he calls, his voice a little louder than it had been a moment ago, “would you mind joining us in class?”

Still, nothing.

Doc breathes another sigh as he turns his attention to the blonde sitting beside Joe. “Ben, would you mind?” he asks as he leans against the table at the front of the room.

With a grin, Ben reaches out and grabs the pen from Joe’s hand mid-sentence. Joe continues to write for a moment, frowning when no words are left behind on the page, before he lifts his head and glances at the pen dangling from between Ben’s fingers. He blinks, still half-asleep or lost in whatever world he’s been in since he arrived, before he reaches out for his pen and says, “Not cool, man.”

“It’s not cool of you to not pay attention,” Doc reminds him as he points at you. “Your partner for the semester,” he informs him before he turns his attention back to the rest of the class. “Now that we’ve all been paired up, feel free to join your partner. We’ll be brainstorming and then set up appointments for your radio production crash course before you leave.”

Before you can even start to gather your things, Joe is crossing the classroom to take a seat in front of you. He smiles at Meredith and gestures to the table he’d left Ben at. “He likes to be by a window,” he offers by way of excuse when Meredith raises an eyebrow at him, “claustrophobic.”

His answer doesn’t really matter to Meredith. You can practically see the hearts in her eyes as she grabs her travel mug and falls into the chair Joe had previously occupied. You both watch them for a moment, you with a raised eyebrow and Joe with a roll of his eyes as Ben’s cheeks flush pink at Meredith’s hand on his arm, before you turn your attention back to the red-head across from you.

“So,” you begin as you tug a lime green notebook out of your bag along with a pen and your phone, “what’s your major? Everyone shared when he partnered us up so we could get an idea of what we’re working with, I guess.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he answers, slightly sheepish, “I could say I’m not always that rude but it might be a lie.” When you crack a smile at that, Joe grins and gestures to his worn-out composition book. “I’m a film production major,” he explains with a proud smile. “One of my classes this semester is pretty intense. We haven’t even met yet and we have to have a rough draft of our first script in by Friday. I don’t think I’ve put this book down since I got the email.”

“Wow,” you breathe as you reach for your coffee, “that is… unfortunate. I hate to break it to you but that sounds miserable and like a total nightmare situation.”

“Oh, definitely,” he nods before he shrugs, “but I’ve already sold my soul to be here so…” When you giggle at this, Joe looks triumphant. He’s quickly striking you as one of those people who seems happiest when they’re making other people happy and, although it’s seven in the morning and you want nothing more than to be buried beneath a pile of blankets, you think that this won’t be so bad. “What about you?” Joe asks before you can lose yourself in your thoughts, “What’s your major?”

“Communication studies,” you answer with a sigh, ready for the judgement that often comes with having such a major. Usually, you get a patronizing, ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ before the conversation shifts to something else or a look of pity as everyone assumes it’s the easiest major there is (it’s not, not if you do it right), but Joe looks excited at the mention of your major.

“Please, please, please tell me you’re doing health communication,” he asks with a wide-eyed desperation that makes you nod, even though you’re confused as to why that’s important. Upon your confirmation, he cheers (just a little too loud and has to be shushed by Doc) before he grins at you. “I have an idea for what we can do our broadcast on,” he informs you happily, “and it’s definitely going to be the best student production this university has ever heard.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be super hard to accomplish,” you inform him with a laugh before you wrinkle your nose. “Have you heard the radio station on campus? It makes me sad.”

Joe nods thoughtfully before he winces slightly and shakes his head. “Did they do a special broadcast for you guys during freshman orientation?” he asks and when you nod, he grimaces. “That made me sad. They went silent for a solid minute. All you could hear was the DJs talking to one another.”

“Oh, was it the two girls? They did the same thing at my orientation and one of them was going off about how she was pretty sure her boyfriend cheated on her and gave her gonorrhea.”

Joe blinks, surprised by this, and shakes his head. “Okay, you win the most depressing campus radio listening experience. Wow,” he laughs, “I thought hearing her talk about blackballing someone from sorority recruitment was bad.”

“McKenna’s a woman of many awkward conversation topics,” you shrug and reach for your coffee once more, “I just managed to get the worst one. But as long as we don’t talk about venereal diseases or sorority recruitment, we’re already doing good,” you muse as you glance over at him. He’s stopped scribbling, the pen now resting on his composition book, and you take in the ink staining his hands. It’s obvious that he really has been writing non-stop for who knows how long and you feel bad for him. The semester has barely started but he already looks like it’s mid-November and he’s ready for a break.

His t-shirt is rumpled, as is his hair, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. You don’t blame him. If you didn’t have a full day of classes following this one, you would’ve turned up in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that’s seen better days. But despite the sort of dishevelment, he looks comfortable rather than sloppy. He looks like he’s just woken up and would be warm and soft.

Your mind wanders, drifts to thoughts of how nice it would be to just go back to bed and sleep for the rest of the day, and the classroom seems to melt around you. You briefly consider that Joe would be nice to cuddle with, warm and comfortable even though he looks like he might steal all the blankets, before you chastise yourself for dragging a perfect stranger into your daydreams. Joe watches, an amused smile on his face, as you stare through him with a far-away expression. He can see flickers of emotions on your face, your lip curling up in a grimace for a moment before you return to a somewhat dreamy state, and he has to bite back a laugh as he watches. He gives you a moment to daydream before he calls your name, barely hiding the laughter in his voice as he does so.

When you blink, refocusing on your surroundings, he nudges your cup toward you with a laugh. “I don’t think you’ve had enough caffeine yet.”

“There’s not enough caffeine on the planet to make me ready for a seven a.m. class,” you sigh as you frown at the matte black mug. “I’m beyond stoked that we’re not meeting at seven again. What time is our radio slot, anyway?”

“Uh,” he pauses, reaching for the handout Doc had dropped onto the table when you were both too caught up in swapping radio horror stories to pay him much mind, “eight p.m.”

“And it’s a thirty minute broadcast?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Three times a week?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.”

Joe stares at the handout for a moment before he hands it over to you. “We have an hour and a half a week,” he muses as he turns to a blank sheet in his notebook. “Do you want to start working on content now?”

Before you can answer, Doc calls everyone to attention and smiles at you all. “You all seem to be getting along,” he nods happily, pausing to take in the groups that do really look like they’re at least somewhat alright with being paired together, before he continues. “If you don’t like your partner, it’s fairly easy to tell. Voices can give away a lot more than you think,” he warns. “Now, I know you’re all going to hate this but I’ve got a meeting to head to. You have the rest of class time to get to know one another, get your ideas together, and be prepared for your crash course. I have the sign-up sheet so if you all would come up and pick a time, that’d be great. After that, you’re free to either stay here and chat or head elsewhere. But please, please, at least begin to brainstorm. Don’t come to our meetings with nothing!”

You watch as the pair closest to the front grab the sign-up sheet and write down their preferred day for the crash course. You’re not sure this is the best way to do this, not sure if a one day crash course is the most beneficial to you all when you have two weeks to work together, but you’re not one to argue. So, you wait with Joe until the others have signed up for their time slot before you head to the front and shrug when you notice that yours is in the middle of the two week period.

“I’m not really sure what we could’ve hoped for here,” he shrugs as he signs his name beside yours, “but I’m fine with this.”

“Same,” you nod as you stand beside your chair and glance at him. “Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else to work?” you ask as you grab your cup. “I figured since you have a ton of work to do on your script, maybe we can get some things started today and then when you’ve turned in your draft on Friday, maybe meet again and really start working?”

Joe nods at this and shoves his notebook into his backpack. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he proposes as he shrugs on his backpack and waits for you to do the same. “Coffee shop? I think we both need caffeine.”

“God, please.”

The pair of you walk in companionable silence across campus. Typically, these group meetings (first time or not) are awkward. Even if you manage to befriend your group mate(s), you’re always painfully aware that it’s just for the semester and that you’ll likely never speak outside of your group meetings. The conversations are relegated to coffee shops and libraries, public spaces that make it obvious the friendship is surface level at best, and you always end the semester wanting to kill one another.

But with Joe, it doesn’t feel like that.

He doesn’t try to force small talk on you. He doesn’t make awkward comments about the weather or the school year. He doesn’t pointedly stare at his phone to keep you from talking to him. He simply walks beside you, glancing around at the campus that is slowly coming to life. He laughs at a campus squirrel as it grabs a discarded fry and attempts to climb up a tree with it hanging out of its mouth and you think that he has a nice laugh as he holds open the door to the coffee shop for you with an over-exaggerated bow and another laugh when you give him a half-assed curtsey.

Joe watches the soft smile spread across your face as the scent of coffee envelops you both and he can feel the butterflies in his stomach. He frowns at the feeling, frowns at his heart beating just a little faster when he realizes just how pretty you are when you smile, and takes the opportunity to glance away because he hates this feeling. He knows how this is going to turn out, with you as just a friend or (worse) not being a friend at all. And he knows that it would be a bad idea to even attempt anything other than friendship when your grade relies on working well together so he swallows the butterflies, beats them down with a dose of reality, before he falls into line behind you and returns his gaze to your form. He watches as you stare up at the menu board with a frown on your face before he hears you mumble, “I don’t know why I even look, I order the same thing every time I come here,” and laughs when you sigh dejectedly at the thought.

“I really do,” you huff as you shove your mug (the one he’d stopped long enough for you to rinse out in a water fountain, even though he laughed at you for doing so) into your backpack and grab your wallet. “Can I get a chai latte with coconut milk, please?”

“You know, chai latte fits you. It’s very liberal arts,” he nods, as if he’s just shared the most sensible statement in the world, before he steps up to the register and orders an iced coffee that he’s sure is going to become a staple of his diet over the next few months as he thinks about the classes he’d been forced to enroll in.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at Joe’s words and allow yourself to fall into one of the oversized chairs near the windows. It’s still a little before eight, classes have yet to start, but it’s the first day and campus is gradually getting busier. You lose yourself for a moment, wondering how two years have already flown by and you’re about to begin your junior year, before you shake your head and reach for your notebook.

“We’re really good at getting absolutely nothing done,” you inform him as you uncap your pen and write ‘content ideas’ at the top of the page. “So, what was your idea for the show?”

Joe stares at you for a moment, unsure of what you’re referring to, before he nods. “Right!” he exclaims before he reaches for his own notebook. “So, entertainment education is a thing they’re pushing now, right? Communication people coming on as sort of consultants for TV shows so they can put the most effective health messages out,” he asks. When you nod, he grins. “We could talk about stuff like that, how some of the messages they’re putting out on those medical shows help or hurt people. And it wouldn’t hurt to talk about whether the shows are good.”

You nod at the idea, intrigued by the thought, before you muse, “What about skits or something? Like, for the last episode each week, we could do a few examples? Maybe one really over the top medical drama that’s completely inaccurate, one that’s really obviously a PSA, and then one that’s been done by a consultant. And I saw that we need guests so maybe we could get a film professor one week and then a health com professor.”

Joe nods at the suggestions and you write them down as quickly as you can in your notebook. He watches, happy that you’re on board with the idea, as you write notes to yourself beside some of the bullet points (‘Ask Dr. Harper if she’s available’ and ‘Do I have to watch Grey’s for this??’) and laughs when you frown at the thought. “It’ll be fun,” he promises you, “everyone loves watching depressing plot twists and insane storylines.”

“Right,” you nod as you hear the barista call your name, “guess that’s why it’s been on the air so long.”

Before Joe can refute your claim, his name is called and he stands before you can. “I’ll grab them,” he assures you with a grin before he crosses the short distance to grab your drinks from the barista. “We can watch the shows together,” he offers as he hands you your latte and reclaims his seat beside you, “if you want, I mean. That way we can work on some material and maybe parody some things for our skits?”

“Yeah. That’s a really good idea,” you nod, not really thinking he’ll want to go through with that offer but realizing that it makes sense. You know that it would be beneficial to the two of you to get together and watch the shows you’re planning on talking about, that you should make notes and talking points, but you know that you can’t work in the library or a coffee shop for that and you’ve never met a group project member who wanted to meet unless absolutely necessary.

However, Joe is different. He doesn’t feel like the usual group member who only puts in the bare minimum or acts like he tolerates you long enough to get the project done. It doesn’t seem like he’s offering just to cover his bases. But you know group projects a little too well. So, when you leave the coffee shop with Joe’s number in your phone and a selfie from him (‘For my contact photo’, he explains in the text) you think that’ll be it. You think that you’ll meet again the next class period or maybe when you have to meet with Doc but you certainly don’t expect your phone to buzz with a text from Joe that night. You don’t expect him to ask you to come to his dorm (followed immediately by a text that reads, ’Is that creepy? I promise I’m not trying to be creepy, it’s for research purposes!’) on Saturday to begin watching medical dramas and making notes but he does.

And five weeks later, you’re not quite sure how it’s happened, but you can now safely count Joe Mazzello among your best friends.

As you sit in the library, attempting to write after finishing your second week of broadcasts (the first without Doc or a station manager sitting directly in the office with the two of you, though the station manager made it clear that he’d be just down the hall), you think that maybe it’s because of the sheer amount of time you’re spending together. When he asked you to watch medical dramas, he meant it. The two of you have binged five seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (you’re taking a break because it’s just so damn depressing and maybe because Ben kept popping in to watch and distract Joe), two of ER, and three of Scrubs (‘I mean, one of them has to actually be good,’ Joe had reasoned when you asked why Scrubs was being considered). You’re almost certain you’ve made a permanent dent in the couch in his living room as you’ve spent every moment of free time you have with him.

When you’re not writing, stuck in a corner of the library with your nose in a book and a stress headache beginning to form, you’re sitting on Joe’s couch. When he’s not filming or editing, he’s sitting right beside you and providing running commentary for the insane amount of medical dramas you’re watching. When you’re not eating popcorn and making snarky comments at the television, the two of you are holed up in the recording studio devoting far more time and attention to the broadcast than Doc imagined you would.

When you first proposed the idea to Doc, he didn’t get it and he wasn’t sure how it was going to work. But after seeing a run through of your show and then listening to the first actual broadcast, he realized that the idea doesn’t matter so much. Sure, as you talked he grew to understand it just a little more, but what is important is the chemistry the two of you have. He can see you both light up when the other enters the room. He watched the way Joe was drawn to you, seemingly unaware that he was moving closer throughout the entire broadcast, and he makes sure to tell his husband that he’s not only found a duo that could actually work on radio but one that could also work as a couple.

And Doc isn’t the only one.

Ben started teasing Joe about you the day that you met. When they went to get dinner that night, Ben spent most of the dinner encouraging Joe to make a move (even though Joe insisted that you weren’t even friends yet, that you were just going to be project partners) and only shut up when Joe asked about Meredith. And even though Joe has since maintained that the two of you are just friends, Ben is anything but subtle about his desire to see the two of you together. He’s even gone so far as to get Lucy and Gwilym in on it (although they’re far more subtle than Ben in their efforts).

But Joe thinks that you’re either oblivious to their teasing or not interested because you never seem to react with more than a smile or a playful roll of your eyes. He thinks that maybe you’re being nice, not rejecting him outright because you still have to work together for a few more months, but he doesn’t like to dwell on that idea because it makes him sad. Instead, he attempts to forget anything more than friendship and does his best to make things easy.

You, however, have mistaken his easygoing nature for friendliness and disinterest in the romantic. He brushes off Ben’s teasing with jokes and Lucy’s subtle suggestions with smiles and shakes of his head. He makes it look effortless, like he’s trying not to hurt your feelings or maybe like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but it gets the point across. He’s not interested in anything more than friendship. And while that stings just a bit (you can feel yourself falling harder and faster each time you set eyes on Joe), you’re attempting to make peace with it.

But as you stare down at the health communication handbook sitting open on the table in front of you, you realize that that peace is hard to come by.

Your head makes contact with the table with a dull ‘thud’ just as a hand touches your shoulder. You jump at the contact, surprised by the presence of another person in this section of the library at nine p.m. on a Thursday in October. You’re usually left alone with your misery until finals start so the presence of another person is almost shocking. However, when you lift your head to see Lucy standing behind you, barely hiding her laughter, you’re able to breathe again.

“Don’t sneak up on me, Luce,” you huff as you lean back in your seat and wait for her to sit in the uncomfortable wooden chair across from you. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think other people knew the library existed until mid-November,” you tease as you flip your textbook shut and glance at her. She’s dressed for the weather, in a school sweatshirt that’s a little too big and a pair of leggings, and you think that she looks as cozy as you’d like to feel.

“I was studying with Rami and Gwil,” she informs you as she reaches out to grab the highlighter from your hands. “We listened to your broadcast and I figured you’d be coming here after it finished. You guys were really good tonight.”

“Thanks,” you hum as you steal the highlighter back from her. “We try our best, sadly enough,” you shrug as you drop the highlighter into your pencil pouch before shoving the black pouch into your backpack. “I feel like we’re devoting way too much time and effort to this.”

Lucy smiles at your comment and shakes her head as she nudges your notebook and textbook toward you. “That’s just who the two of you are,” she shrugs. “You both put your all into everything you do. And it doesn’t hurt that putting in your all means spending every waking moment together.”

“Joe’s fun to hang out with,” you defend as you take her hint and shove your books into your bag. “And, I mean, it’s not like I’d be doing anything else with the time I spend with him.”

“Right,” she nods, “only sleeping or something else equally as useless, right?”

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“At least once a week.”

Lucy waits for you to finish packing your bag before she stands from her seat. Without really thinking about it, you shrug on your backpack and follow after her. You’re still in the jeans and boots you’d worn to class, still wearing the hoodie you’d stolen from Joe during a night of research a week prior, and you want nothing more than to change into a pair of pajamas and sleep for a week. She’s right about you sacrificing your sleep schedule to spend time with Joe and it almost makes you pause in your tracks as the two of you exit the library and step into the cool night air.

“Am I being dumb?” you ask, your head tilted as you think about the time you’re spending with Joe and the stress it’s adding as you continue to lose sleep. When she fixes you with a look that tells you you’re only going to get a smartass response, you shake your head. “I mean, am I being ridiculous sacrificing sleep and, like, normal shit to spend so much time with Joe? We’re friends, yeah, and I mean, he’s probably my best friend at this point but I’ve never done anything like this for any of my other friends. We get tired of each other after a few hours and go our separate ways. We only really hang out on the weekends because we’re sort of busy, nothing like me and Joe. We’re both always so fucking busy, like, barely any time to breathe. But we still manage to spend at least a few hours together every day. That’s dumb, right?”

Lucy blinks, surprised by the quickness of your words and the tone of your voice, and stops walking. She grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away from her and stares at you. “Whoa,” she breathes, “where did that come from?”

You shift, unsure of where the outburst came from yourself, before you shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t realize how much time we spent together and now that I’m thinking about it, it’s ridiculous. I don’t spend that much time with you!”

“Yeah, but you’re not in love with me,” she explains, as if it’s the most reasonable answer in the world. When you blink, surprised, she rolls her eyes. “Come on, we all see it. Maybe love is a little strong but you definitely really like him. You light up whenever he enters a room and even when he does something dumb, you look at him like he’s the most perfect person there is. You’re so into him, it’s kind of ridiculous.”

You stand there for a moment, surprised by the fact that she knows, before you shake your head and tug your wrist from her grasp. “It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you begin walking toward your dorm. “It's just a crush that’s not reciprocated. I’ll get over it.” Before she can follow after you, you turn and wave. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you call over your shoulder.

Lucy doesn’t follow you but, as she knows you fairly well by now, she yells, “Don’t do anything stupid!” at your retreating figure. She knows that you’re just a little dramatic (one of the reasons you get on so well with all of them) and that you being in your head is the quickest way for you to spiral out of control.

And, as she feared, you do spiral.

You can’t really help yourself. The only way for you to get over someone is to convince yourself of their disinterest and you can’t do that when you’re cuddling Joe on his couch. So, you distance yourself. You put as much space as you can between the two of you and hope that you can convince yourself that there’s nothing there before Joe gets suspicious.

For the first week, it works.

You’re able to distance yourself with little suspicion. You have two major projects, two papers, an exam, and a special project for your internship coming up. The pair of you have all of the material you need for at least a week’s worth of shows so Joe understands when you tell him that you’ll be MIA as you attempt to juggle the many things you have going on. He offers his help, offers to quiz you for your exam or help take photos for your internship project, but you wave him off and he gets it. You’re a perfectionist and independent to a fault. If you have to do it, you’re going to do it on your own.

When the second week rolls around and you send him an email with notes you’ve taken to contribute to the week’s show content, he’s surprised but, again, he understands. He figures you watched what you could in short breaks or, as most of the notes are related to the academic side of things, you made notes as you were doing your reading for class. He chalks up your less than enthusiastic attitude during recording to your exhaustion (he can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that you haven’t been sleeping) and he even brings you coffee to your sessions. But when you leave the cup untouched and give him a tight smile in acknowledgement, he realizes that something is wrong.

But it isn’t until week four, just as the library begins to get crowded and he knows that you’re going to be holed up in your dorm room to study, that he confronts you. He’s asked Lucy what he did wrong multiple times. He worried that he might’ve come on too strong or that you realized he had a crush on you and wanted to distance yourself. But when she (along with Gwil, Rami, and Ben) suggested that he talk to you rather than them, he decided to take her advice.

If he’s being honest, Joe doesn’t really expect you to open the door as he knocks. He expects you to see him standing there and leave him out in the hall without so much as an acknowledgement. However, the door swings open before he can knock a second time and he narrowly avoids hitting you. He wants to say that he’s calm and rational but he’s been wracking his brain for what went wrong for weeks and he’s tired and frustrated and just a little sleep deprived. So, the moment the door is open, he shoves past you and moves to stand in the center of your living room.

Without waiting for you to shut the door, he begins speaking.

“Okay, I’m really not sure what’s going on but I wanted to give you space because I thought it was just stress and school, you know? I thought that you needed time to work on homework and exams because you’re one of the most studious people I know and we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I get how that can interfere. And it’s great that you care so much about school because you’re brilliant and you’re going to do amazing things but it’s been a month of us barely speaking and I know that you’ve turned in drafts of everything so you’re not swamped anymore and I would really like to know what’s going on because I hate this.”

You blink at Joe’s outburst, barely able to understand the words that spill past his lips, and stand there in stunned silence for a moment before you shut the door to your dorm room and step around him take a seat on the couch where he assumes you’ve been sitting, watching what looks like an old game show. “I’ve just been busy,” you shrug, your voice clearly betraying you. “I turned in drafts but I’ve had work stuff to do, you know? And, I mean, I have other friends.”

Joe laughs but it’s a sound without humor and it doesn’t feel right coming from him. He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head. “I know that you have other friends,” he huffs as he paces the floor in front of the coffee table, “but I thought we were friends, too.”

“We were,” you answer immediately before you quickly correct yourself, “we are. I just, I’ve been busy. Sorry.”

“That’s bullshit,” he exclaims before he stops pacing and turns to face you. You can’t read the look on his face but the sadness in his eyes shines clearly and you hate yourself for upsetting him. He’s the kindest, most gentle soul you’ve ever met and you hate seeing anything other than a bright smile on his lips. But what really breaks your heart is the way his voice breaks when he says, “I just want to know what’s going on. Is it because of the jokes that everyone was making? Or did I make you uncomfortable? I just want to fix it because I really miss you.”

“How would you have made me uncomfortable?” you question, a frown on your lips as you watch him run his hands through his hair once more.

He pauses, looking almost sheepish as his cheeks tint pink, before he sighs. “I mean, it’s not really a secret that I’m into you,” he answers, looking anywhere but directly at you, “and I’ve tried to make it less obvious but Ben told me that literally everyone could still tell so if that’s why you’re avoiding me, I’m sorry. I’ll get over it or try not to be so obvious about it, I just -“

Joe barely notices you stand from your seat and step around the coffee table to stand in front of him. He doesn’t stop talking when you place your hands on his cheeks and he continues to mumble as you pull him into a kiss. He only shuts up when you press your lips to his, mid-sentence. He stops speaking, goes rigid, and you feel yourself heat with embarrassment.

You quickly pull away and when you do, he looks mildly dazed and somewhat bewildered but before he can ask for an explanation, you step away from him and shake your head. “Sorry, fuck, sorry,” you breathe as you move to step around him. “That’s what they do in movies to stop people from rambling and I thought it’d be a good idea but I don’t even know if you wanted me to kiss you so I’m sorry. Do you want some water? I’m gonna get some water.”

“Wait!” Joe grabs your hand and holds you in place before you can step into the small kitchenette. You don’t turn around to face him and it takes a moment for him to speak. “What was that for? I’m definitely not complaining but why kiss me? Was it just to shut me up?”

“Not just,” you mumble, though Joe can barely understand you. When he squeezes your hand, you groan and toss your head back as you repeat, “Not just to shut you up. I kissed you because I wanted to, okay? I’m into you, too. Lucy told me that it was super obvious and I thought you were just being nice and trying to be my friend to let me down easy so I kept my distance to get over it.”

Joe stares at you, surprised, before he begins to laugh. You turn to look at him, confused as to why he’s laughing, and he shakes his head at the mildly offended look on your face. “I’m not laughing at you,” he assures you quickly, “I’m laughing because we’re both idiots. We’ve been into each other this whole time but we thought the other was just being nice. I thought I was being super obvious about being into you!”

“You’re flirty with your friends, Joe!” you inform him with a pout. “How was I supposed to know you were into me?”

“You can’t flirt to save your life,” Joe informs you, a bit defensively, “how was I supposed to know you were into me?”

You stare at one another, the fact that you’ve just admitted your mutual interest in one another not quite sinking in, until Joe blinks and shakes his head. “Wait, we literally just confessed to be into one another and we’re arguing over why we didn’t realize sooner.”

“Fuck, we really are idiots,” you laugh as you watch him step a little closer to you. You remain silent for a moment, waiting to see what he’ll do, before you ask, “What now?”

“Can we try that kiss again?” he asks as he closes the distance between the two of you and moves his hand from your wrist to your waist. “I wasn’t really prepared last time.”

You roll your eyes at Joe’s smile but allow him to tug you closer as you wrap your arms around his neck. This kiss is less stiff than the first, Joe doesn’t freeze and there is no awkward clashing of teeth and lips. This kiss is still a bit unsure, tentative and soft, but it’s nicer than you could’ve imagined it would be. One of Joe’s hands moves to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss and it feels right to be intertwined with him. The butterflies that he felt upon first meeting you are back in full force and this time he doesn’t bother to wish them away. He embraces the fluttering in his stomach and the quick beating of his heart just as you embrace the warmth and softness you knew Joe would possess.

And when the two of you head to the dining hall, hand in hand with you in Joe’s sweatshirt and him with hair mussed from your fingers running through it, you don’t even bother to hide your grins as you take a seat at the table with Ben and Gwilym. Neither of you acknowledge their shit-eating grins or the way they nudge one another. It’s only when Ben holds out his hand tells Gwilym, “You owe me twenty bucks, mate,” that you glance at him.

When Gwilym begrudgingly hands over a twenty, he turns to look at you and Joe. “In my defense, I bet that you’d be together within the first month.”

“I told you they were both idiots. Should’ve played the long game,” Ben teases as he shoves the note into his pocket before he grabs his cellphone and snaps a picture of the two of you. “Lucy’s gonna be pissed that she missed winning by a week.”

“How far off was Rami?” you question as you steal a fry from Ben’s plate.

“To be fair, I don’t think he knows the two of you are even interested in one another,” Gwilym shrugs.

“I thought we were just so fucking obvious about it,” Joe questions as he turns to look at Ben who simply shrugs and continues typing a message to Lucy.

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug the plate of fries closer to you. When Ben whines, you flip him the middle finger and remind him, “You just made twenty bucks off us. I think you can spare some shitty dining hall fries.”

Gwilym and Joe laugh at your rebuttal as they each steal a handful of fries. Joe presses a kiss to your temple, a grin on his lips as he catches sight of your own smile, before he pops a fry into his mouth. He couldn’t have imagined his semester would turn out like this when it began but now that he’s here, sitting beside you with his arm around your shoulders and the feeling of kissing you burned into his memory, he can’t imagine anything better. And when the two of you turn up to your final recording, fingers laced together and lips swollen from kisses, Doc texts his husband to tell him that he was right.

Not only did he find his new weekly DJs, the only ones to ever become campus legends and have an actual audience for their show, he also helped form the cutest couple he’s ever seen (aside from them, of course).

Author’s Note: I know the health com thing seems random but it’s a thing at USC and it’s sort of a passion project and I’m terrible at ideas for creative projects that aren’t fics. So. That’s why that’s a thing. Anyway. Yes. Joe is precious, goodbye.

182 notes · View notes

maple-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Betcha weren’t expecting another update so soon after the last one, eh? (I had an extra day off this week)

When I’d woke up after that night, Striker had already gone to work and at the end of the day he’d been completely normal when he came home. Same as the next day, and the day after that, and by the time Ginger said I was allowed to come back to the college after her ordering me to rest, I’d relaxed about Ember’s warning.

She’d started me off slowly, directing me to more books and papers and to study, as well as finally getting the chance to go over the events that took place in the forest. She’d been able to get in contact with Steven Miller’s family. Yesterday they’d left me a gift.

I held the brass picture frame as I climbed the spiral staircase out from Ginger’s office. Steven’s face smiled out from the photo, sandwiched between two grinning women Ginger pointed out as his parents. It looked like they were on vacation. Walking by memory, I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of it. He looked so young, so happy. I swallowed against the sorrow that rose in my throat, and tucked the frame to my side. At least if I hadn’t been able to save him from death, I was able to save him from an eternity bound to the forest.

I stepped from the hallway into the main foyer. Warm afternoon light filled the space, soft and airy and open enough that the weight stifling my lungs seemed to fade away at least a little with every breath. Students milled about, clumped in groups talking to one another or wandering alone and most people not taking evening classes heading home for the day. I smiled as I crossed the tile floor. Striker said he was making soup for dinner tonight.

A familiar face in the corner of my eye made me pause, turning to see Cirrus sitting alone on one of the benches along the side of the wall. He raised his head when he noticed me watching and gave a little wave.

“What are you doing here?” I sat beside him, setting the picture frame face down on my lap.

Cirrus leaned back, fiddling with the zipper of the jacket he must have borrowed from Striker. “I uh,” He swallowed. “I’m meeting someone about a job.”

“Really?” My eyes widened with my smile. “Cirrus that’s great.”

He shrugged, taking his hands from fidgeting with the zipper to tucked into the pockets. “Thanks, Ginger actually suggested it.” He swallowed, glancing up at the connecting hallways. “Said she knows the owner of the convenience store here and she was looking for someone.” He took a deep breath. “Apparently she’s a selkie.”

I gave him a playful nudge as I got up from the bench, beaming with the pride swelling in my chest. “Well, good luck! I’ll see you at home later then, right?”

He nodded and we exchanged goodbyes before I left the college, slipping out the front doors into the late afternoon sun. It warmed my bones as I walked down the quiet sidewalk. As soon as I reached the bus stop though, my shoulders fell. I’d left my wallet—and buss pass—in Ginger’s office.

Cirrus wasn’t waiting in the foyer when I returned, and it seemed most of the people hovering about had gone too. The halls were near silent as I made my way back down the stone spiral. Hopefully she would still be there, or at least the door would be unlocked. But as I approached her office, I slowed. Someone else’s voice, Charlotte, came from the direction of the door. There was a tension in her voice that made my chest tighten.

“Ginger, we have to talk.”

Her voice held an edge that made me freeze before turning around the corner. I pressed up against the side of the wall, straining my ears to try and hear the next reply.

Ginger’s reply was harder to hear. “About what?”

A pause. “Asher.”

I swallowed, nerves tightening around my ribs as I crouched to the ground to peek around the corner. Charlotte stood with her back to the doorway, arms braced against Ginger’s desk as she leaned over it. Ginger watched from her chair, face tense and eyes hard.

But she didn’t say anything, letting Charlotte continue. “I’ve read through your report from the other night, and I’m concerned.”

“It was one event, we can’t be sure why it even happened.” Ginger leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “We can’t jump to conclusions over one issue.”

Charlotte drew a folder from under her arm and laid it open on Ginger’s desk, pointing at something. “You reported right here that he was allegedly aggressive and irrational.”

Ginger shrugged. “Still, it’s only one event, and once he returned to his usual self he seemed completely fine, even if a little exhausted.” She paused, thinking. “He was here today and nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“But Ginger,” Charlotte sighed, slowly letting herself sink into the chair across from Ginger’s desk. “I’m sure you know why I’m worried, and why I think you, both of us, should think about reconsidering having him here in this program.”

Chills crawled over my skin and I bit at the inside of my lip. Had I done something wrong? I swallowed, the silence between the two of them weighing heavily on my hunched back.

“I hear you,” Ginger spoke low, eyes cast down towards her lap. “I do, but I don’t want to let him go just yet.”

Let me go? I hunched further, trying to crane my neck without poking out into the hallway too far.

“You saw what happened to Wendy.” Charlotte’s tone was dire. “It started off small, like nothing to worry about too.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to have to put anyone through that, not him, not you, not me.”

Ginger’s shoulders fell, her hands falling still into her lap. “I know.” She shook her head and propped her cheek against a bent elbow. “It’s just… Charlotte his has such potential.”

“So did Wendy,” Charlotte mumbled. “So does everyone I send your way.”

But Ginger shook her head. “No, it’s not like that.” She dropped her hand to the armrest. “He’s going to make an incredible exorcist one day.” She paused. “He’s already been exorcising spirits with minimal assistance, spirits that even I would be strained to establish communication with as quickly and completely as he does.” She raised her head again to meet Charlotte’s eyes. “Of course there’s still details and skills he needs to learn, but as for the actual exorcisms, he’s a natural.”

Despite the nerves and tension tightening around my body, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of warmth at her words. But it vanished when Charlotte shook her head and leaned across the desk.

“That doesn’t matter,” her voice grew sharp. “He could be the best exorcist this college—this world even—has ever seen but do you really think it’s worth the risk of corruption?” She held a threat in her voice. “I hope you realize you’re the one who’s going to have to either find a way to save him or more likely, kill him to protect everyone else.”

The two of them fell silent. My eyes widened and I held my breath. Kill me? I swallowed and leaned against the side of the wall. Something cold brushed against my other side and I glanced back at the empty air. A familiar energy drifted like mist in the hallway beside me, pressing against me like she was trying to get my attention.

“I know, Charlotte.” Ginger spoke again though, and I looked back towards her office. “But I can’t just let him give up on this gift he so clearly has. If that means we have to put more emphasis on other areas, and have limits that other exorcists wouldn’t have to follow than so be it. I’m not willing to give up on him just yet.” She paused. “Plus, I’m not confident he would stop communicating and dealing with spirits and demons even if we did cut him loose. He did before he came here and there’s no reason to believe he would just stop once he’s gone.”

Charlotte stood, shoulders back and arms tense. “Fine. But if something happens, and he becomes corrupted, looses himself and all he is, that’s on you.” She started to turn and I backed away from the corner. “It’ll be on your conscience.”

Her footsteps came soft from the office and I scurried backwards, turning and dashing down the hallway. I slipped through the door of a little two-stall bathroom and shut the door behind me as quietly as possible. The chill of the spirit followed me through, a moment before Charlotte’s footsteps passed by the outside of the door.

My legs trembled as I walked to the sink, bracing myself against the counter with arms outstretched. I stared down at my hands, closing my eyes as the spirit that had to have been Cynthia pressed against my side like a dog nosing for attention.

“Is,” I found my voice. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

The lights flickered on and off, the chill disappearing from my side for just a moment. Fine. I turned around and leaned backwards against the counter top, holding out a hand.

“Alright, what is it?”

Cynthia slipped in through my fingers, settling as far as I would let her go, just at the top of my shoulder. Cold pooled where she sat, like ice melting where my arm met my body.

Been awhile, hasn’t it? I nodded, head hanging down and staring at the blurred outline of the floor tiles. I hadn’t spoken to Cynthia since the practical exams, hadn’t felt her around either. I don’t tend to hang around this part of the building. Not much happens here. True, it was basically the basement after all.

I shook out my head. That wasn’t what she’d come to tell me about, was it? Of course not. Then tell me what it was. I think it’s best if you find out for yourself.

I scowled. Why bother coming and finding me then to just tell me to do something myself? Because, I sighed and raised my head, blinking against the out-of-focus lights. Its not easy to find. Not a cover up per se, but not something the college likes to have readily available for anyone snooping around.

Oh? Curiosity tugged at my heart stronger than the cold seeping down through my clavicle. It was about this Wendy person, wasn’t it? I nodded, half commanded by Cynthia. She was a cambion too, right? Before you the only cambion to ever study at the college. Something happened to her. I nodded again, lips parted and breathing through my mouth. What happened?

Cynthia went still, her chill retracting to deep within the muscle of my bicep. I think you should read the reports yourself. I turned towards the door. Fine, where are they? Ginger’s has a copy in her files in the back of her office. Read through or copy it to read later. I nodded. I’d noticed the cabinets of files in the back of her office, never thinking twice about them. Plus, I needed to get my wallet back anyway.

She’s got a meeting in half an hour. A cheeky grin spread across my face and I lifted my chin. Should give you at least an hour. I nodded again, stepping away from the door to lean back against the sinks. I could find something to do for half an hour. Good.

Cynthia shifted her position, spreading from the top of my shoulder down to just under my shoulder blade. I think it’s best if you know. I’m sure they just don’t want to scare you, or make you worry for nothing, but they should have told you right up front.

I sighed, letting my shoulders fall. As kind as it was to tip me off of something she thought I should know, why bother? Because I was there, I saw what happened to her. Cold flared across my back, making me hunch over with a gasp.

I walked down an almost familiar hallway of the college, a coffee in each hand. One was for me, the other for my father. His meetings always ran longer than he anticipated. Morning sunlight shone through the windows lining the hall, white and bright. My heart was light as the spring in my steps. After his meeting we were set to leave for a weekend camping trip in the mountains.

Out of a connecting hallway up ahead, Wendy stepped out. She stood before me with arms outstretched and my blood ran cold. Blood dripped from her claws, her black eyes narrowed to slits and breathing ragged and uneven. But it was the grin that made me freeze, huge and full of sharp teeth and fangs as she locked her eyes on me.

I dropped the coffees and fled, but it was too late. Snarling, she leapt, hands slamming down on my shoulders and forcing me to the floor. I twisted under her grip to face her, but she held me down by my elbows, laughing as I struggled. She grabbed my hair and wrenched my neck up from the ground. Claws dug into my eye, ripping it from the socket.

I screamed and thrashed, knocking her off of me for a second. I hunched over, pressing my hand to the bleeding wound in my skull as agony coursed through my head. But she kicked me down again. Her claws tore though my stomach, blood seeping fast from torn skin and shredded organs.

Then she was gone, chased away from shouts from down the hallway. They sounded so far away, and as my vison faded the last thing I saw was Ginger run by, one arm charred and burned and the other ripped open to the bone. I couldn’t feel anything as my sight left along with my life.

I stumbled forward, catching myself on the bathroom wall. A shaking hand went to my abdomen, clutching the dry, intact skin as the phantom pain dissolved. My eyes widened and I fought to control my breathing, taking deep breath after deep breath until my heart slowed from it’s frantic race.

We were friends. Cynthia drew back, tucking herself atop the bones of my shoulder. Something happened though, she lost who she was, and she killed me. I swallowed, slowly standing up straight and away from the wall. Sweat beaded on my forehead, running down my face and stinging in my eyes. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you, and I don’t want Ginger to have to do it again either.

So should I just stop coming? Just give up? I shrugged. I don’t know. There has to be a way around it. I rolled my shoulders back to try and release the knot of tension growing in the muscle. But you should be aware of the risks all the same.

“Thank you,” my voice came out low, shaking, and quiet.

Cynthia loosened her grip on my shoulder, her chill slowly easing it’s way down my arm. Take care of yourself. I nodded and opened up my hand to let her slip out my palm, drifting through the skin like smoke through mesh.

Half an hour later, and I was in Ginger’s office, alone. I shut the door behind me, the sound echoing through the empty space. On a little table by the side of the room my wallet sat unmoved next to a stack of books I’d been reading. I grabbed it quickly on my way to her files.

My heart pounded and my hands shook as I searched through folder after folder. I wasn’t supposed to be here, sneaking through Ginger’s things. My ears strained, fearing the sound of footsteps coming towards the closed door.

Finally, I found it. Incident: Wendy Silva. It was old, thick and worn. I set it down on Ginger’s desk and slowly lowered myself down into her chair. It creaked as I pushed it in to the desk. Nerves sat heavy on my chest as I stared down at the blank manila folder. It didn’t look any different from the files Ginger would give me before going out on cases.

I took a deep breath, and opened the file. An image of Wendy’s face stared up from the corner of the cover page. The whites of her eyes were black, with red irises, her smile contained cat-like teeth and short, twisting horns branched from her head. I swallowed as I scanned the page. She was a cambion, orphaned since childhood but believed to have had a demon mother. About thirty five years ago she came wanting to be an exorcist and was placed to apprentice under Ginger. She seemed to take to it well, improving readily until she began to act differently. Slowly at first, she got more aggressive, until she seemed like a completely different person.

My chest tightened. Ginger had been forced to kill her to protect the public she’d taken to attacking, nearly being killed herself.

I swallowed and forced myself to flip to the next pages. The first few were paperwork about the apprenticeship, basic and mundane. Then came the full incident reports. My stomach dropped. A complete change in personality, change in appearance with demonic traits taking over the human.

Twenty dead, sixteen injured, three missing.

Pages of notes and research, both typed papers and handwritten notes, suggested reasons for causes; fluke, demonic influence, demonic parentage, pressure, development of abilities. I swallowed. There was a note about cambion’s being prone to loosing control, and I couldn’t help but think of Ember.

Then there were the photos. Hallways smeared with blood, burned trees… I bit my lip. Broken bones, severed limbs, bodies twisted on the ground.

I shut the file and sunk back in the chair, staring straight at the closed door. My jaw tightened, face tense. Was that going to happen to me? I shivered, curling in on myself. Had it always been so cold down here? It didn’t matter. Maybe it would be for the best if I stopped, gave up trying to learn something that would only leave me a shadow of myself.

But… I drew the picture frame from my pocket and held it in my lap, eyes resting on Steven’s face. What if we hadn’t gone to the mountains to investigate and hadn’t found his body? What if I’d ignored Janice and hadn’t bothered to try and communicate with her, to free her of her father’s influence? What if I’d walked past that missing poster on the way to the beach?

Ginger seemed to think I had a chance. She wouldn’t tell Charlotte that I did if she didn’t think so, right? I spun the chair back and forth, the creak soothing in the quiet of the office. She’d tell me if she was worried, right? Maybe it would be okay. I’d work harder, pay more attention…

I sighed and stood from the chair, taking the folder carefully into my hands. She hadn’t told me about what happened to Wendy for a reason, right? Quiet seemed to press too hard against the sides of my ribs as I made sure to put the folder back exactly where I’d found it. She couldn’t know that I’d been searching through her office. I didn’t know what she would say but I couldn’t imagine she would be happy about it.

If I had been smart I would have checked to see how long I’d been reading though the file, but it was too late for that now. Erring on the side of caution, I slipped back out of her office and hurried up the spiral staircase before she could come back down and catch me breaking her trust.

Hopefully Striker wouldn’t ask what took me so long getting home, because I couldn’t tell him what I found out. I couldn’t make him worry any more than he did after the other night.

#the city of eventide #chapter 17 #my writing #writblr #amwriting #fiction #paranormal #this took like a day and a bit i think #i can't remember #but here you go again

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emeraldwaves · 6 years ago

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Title: The Language of Flowers Happy Birthday Momo! Pairing: TodoMomo Rating: T Word Count: 2,531 Summary: When Todoroki discovers it is Yaoyorozu's birthday, he wants to celebrate with her, but can't figure out the best way to do so. Read on AO3

(Full Fic Under Cut)

Laughter erupted next to him, the girls all gathered around Yaoyorozu's desk.

Todoroki blinked, turning to see what all the commotion was about, but Ashido was talking so rapidly, he couldn't really focus.

"...then we'll go to the mall and karaoke all night long!"

"Okay, but... we still have a curfew," Yaoyorozu pointed out softly; always the voice of reason.

"Curfew smurfew! It's your birthday, Yaomomo! We need to celebrate!"

"Mina-chan!" she hissed, but the bell rang, stopping the girls from their chatter as they all took to their seats.

Todoroki twisted his lips. It was Yaoyorozu's birthday? She hadn't said anything. Then again, he wasn't exactly vocal about his own birthday. Perhaps she was the same?

He couldn't stop thinking about it all through class. Maybe if he knew, he could've gotten her a present. Would she even want something from him? What would he even get her?

He tapped his pencil against the desk in frustration, ignoring the lecture.

Maybe something for her hair? No. Her hair was always stunning and perfect, there was nothing she needed to do it, nothing extra needed. Perhaps some school supplies? No. That wasn't fun or interesting at all. He could imagine Yaoyorozu probably didn't need anything and most things she needed, she could create.

When the lunch bell sounded, Todoroki jumped slightly, pulling himself from his daze.

Yaoyorozu was quick to turn to him, as she often did. "Ah... Todoroki-kun, is everything alright? I noticed you were tapping your pencil quite hard." She stroked the side of her hair, her fingers gently touching over one of the long black pieces. "I've... noticed you only seem to do that when you are frustrated."

Observant. "Mmm..." he mumbled. "No. I'm fine." He stared at his desk and then turned to her. "Is today your birthday, Yaoyorozu-san?"

Her cheeks flushed, a gentle tint of red covering her normally pale skin. "Uhm! Actually it's tomorrow!"

"Ah... Happy birthday," he said, nodding his head to her.

"T-Thank you!" She smiled so bright. Todoroki couldn't help but stare for a moment, looking at the cute creases in her cheeks, her dark eyes filled with excitement.

"Are you going to karaoke?" he asked. None of the girls were quiet about it this morning, so he could only assume it was fairly public knowledge.

"Yes! Ah... you can join us if you would like to, Todoroki-kun!" she offered.

"That's... not really my thing..." he mumbled, the words sounding far crueler than he meant them to.

"I-I understand!" she said, a smile still crossing her features, though Todoroki could tell she was slightly disappointed.

Todoroki tried his best to keep to himself during the rest of classes. He felt guilty for turning down her offer. Maybe his present should've been going with the girls to karaoke. Though he couldn't imagine sitting there in the karaoke room while the girls sang and he... watched? He didn't really enjoy those loud sort of activities.

But maybe... there was something else he could do.

The bell rang to end the classes for the day and as everyone began to file out of the classroom, Todoroki was quick to pull Ashido aside.

"Hey Todoroki-kun," she smiled. "What's up?"

"Ah... it's about Yaoyorozu-san's birthday tomorrow..."

"Oh yeah?" She immediately perked up. "You wanna come?" She leaned towards him nudging his side. His eyes turned towards her elbow, watching her gently push him while he refused to react.

"No."

"Oh... boring," she sighed. "And here I thought you had a crush on her!"

A... crush? Did he have a crush on Yaoyorozu?! Yes, she was beautiful, but anyone would be able to see that. She was kind, intelligent, and she worked harder than anyone he knew. He saw her improve so greatly since getting to know her better. He certainly had faith in her abilities! He did often think about her, glancing over occasionally to see what she was focusing on in class... but... did that mean he had a crush?

"Todoroki-kun?" Ashido asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh... Ashido-san..." he muttered.

"You were spacing out pretty hard there," she said, folding her arms. "So, uhm, what was it you wanted to know about her birthday?"

"Ah... right... what are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked.

"Well..." Ashido hummed. "We're going to the mall in the afternoon and then karaoke until we blow our lungs out!" she laughed.

Sounded horrible. He wondered if Yaoyorozu was really into something like that, but he wouldn't question her fun time with her friends.

"Do you think when you're done you could have her stop by the common area before she goes to bed?"

Ashido's lips curled into a wide smirk, a devilish look Todoroki didn't much appreciate. "Of course, Todo-kun," she giggled. "See you tomorrow!" she called out, waving as she ran off.

Though he frowned at the nickname, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Yaoyorozu on her birthday.

In hindsight however, he was regretting asking Ashido to bring Yaoyorozu to the common room. He stood in the kitchen, his supposedly foolproof plan feeling rather foolish now.

He wanted to cook her something... but he had no idea what to make. He knew he probably should bake something, but baking was an entirely different beast. One he had not attempted to try. He was decent in the kitchen, in a way he sort of had to be. But... could he really pull something off in a day? Nothing seemed right, or everything seemed plain for a girl as fancy and beautiful as her.

Partially, his struggle came from Ashido calling it 'a crush'. True, he often couldn't stop thinking about Yaoyorozu. How she always looked so excited when she came up with a new idea! Or how she bit her lower lip when she was really concentrating during written exams or while she took notes.

He often found himself thinking: cute.

But did those observations... things he found... cute... did they equal a crush?

Since his thoughts were a mess and he couldn't seem to focus, he couldn't decide what to cook or bake.

So he stood, staring at the kitchen counter, completely at a loss.

"Ah... Todoroki-kun... are you okay?" Midoriya asked, walking by for the second time that day. Todoroki was standing in the same spot when Midoriya left to go for his afternoon jog.

"Midoriya-kun..." he muttered. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You... uhm... haven't moved from that spot," Midoriya stammered, pointing where Todoroki stood in the kitchen.

"...true..."

"Do you need help with something?"

Todoroki shook his head, but then tilted his chin. "Today is Yaoyorozu-san's birthday."

"Oh yeah! All the girls went out all day. Were you... going to make her a cake or something?" Midoriya asked, clearly confused why Todoroki had yet to move.

"Hm," he grunted. "Midoriya-kun... do you have a crush on anyone?"

Midoriya's green eyes widened, "E-EH!?" he yelled, jumping backwards. "N-No! Not really?! I don't THINK I do?!" he said, waving his hands quickly.

"I see..."

Midoriya's flailing stopped abruptly, and he blinked, glancing back to where Todoroki still stood awkwardly. "Uhm... do you have a crush on Yaoyorozu-san, Todoroki-kun? Is that what... all this is about?"

"Hm," he muttered.

"Well, do you think she's pretty?"

"Of course." Todoroki retorted fast.

Midoriya nodded. "Okay, okay... do you like talking to her? Do you get happy?"

Happy? He supposed it did make his heart beat a little faster when he spoke to her.

"Yes."

"And... do you think about her a lot?" Midoriya continued.

"Mmm..." He supposed he did, seeing as most of his school day was spent stealing glances at her when he could, wondering what she was thinking about. "Yes?" he said finally.

"Sounds like you might," Midoriya said. "But y'know, she talks to you a lot and I know she really admires you! So... maybe she has a crush too! Maybe you could just... tell her your feelings."

A breath of cold air slipped from his mouth, his right side prickling with ice. "No."

"No? Maybe you could... take her for a walk and tell her how beautiful she looks!" Midoriya said.

It was now clear to Todoroki, Midoriya had no idea what he was doing when it came to these sort of things.

"It doesn't... seem right to bombard her with my feelings on her birthday," he sighed.

"Is there anything you know she wants or needs?" Midoriya suggested then.

"Well, she enjoys reading, but she has so many books. She never seems to have a problem finding the ones she enjoys," he explained.

"Hm..." Midoriya tapped his chin against his finger. "Ah! Maybe you could buy her some flowers, and... uhm... hint at your feelings. People do stuff like that a lot!."

Flowers didn't seem like a terrible idea. He didn't like the fact they would eventually die out, but... maybe if he got them in a nice vase Yaoyorozu could use that later.

"Not a terrible idea."

"Yeah! There's a flower shop close to town if you want to go?"

Todoroki nodded. It seemed buying her flowers was the best idea yet. He hoped she didn't find it too over the top.

Todoroki stood in the common room, waiting for Yaoyorozu to return with her friends. He glanced behind himself, looking at the small red vase holding the bouquet he picked out with Midoriya. Flower meanings, he came to realize, were very intense, but hopefully Yaoyorozu wouldn't read too much into them and simply take it as a nice gesture.

The girls laughter echoed the halls as they entered the dorm, the sounds shockingly loud for people who apparently blew their voices out singing for hours.

"Yaomomo!" Ashido's voice is loud and clear to Todoroki and he feels his pulse begin to quicken, his left side growing even hotter. "I think Todo-kun wants to talk to you!" she said, her voice a ridiculous sing-song.

"Eh? Todoroki-kun?" She froze, catching his eyes from across the room, her cheeks flushing. She blinked nervously, but Ashido nudged her forward, pushing her closer to Todoroki.

"Night girl! Happy birthday!" she called out, and many of the other girls did the same, waving goodbye.

Now, the dorm hall was awkwardly silent as Yaoyorozu stood in front of him. Her dark hair was still up in it's fanned out ponytail, a few stray pieces framing the side of her face. Her cheeks were still slightly heated. "H-Hello, Todoroki-kun," she began, clasping her hands behind her back.

Her cute red dress swished around her tights and suddenly, Todoroki felt silly wearing only a sweater and slacks. "Hello, Yaoyorozu-san," he said and bowed his head.

Dammit. Too formal.

"How was your evening out?" he asked, trying to recover.

"It was lovely! The girls planned a fun evening," she giggled and the sound made him suck in his breath. He could listen to her gentle, calming tone all day.

"Well I just uh... I wanted to say..." he began.

"Yes... Todoroki-kun?" she asked, leaning forward, her eyes looking eager.

"Happy... birthday," he said, and stepped to the side, revealing the red vase of flowers.

"Oh! Todoroki-kun! They're beautiful!" she said, kneeling down next to the smaller table. Her cheeks flushed just about as red as most of the flowers.

"I know red is your favorite color so I-"

"Yes, of course! I-I love them! It's very thoughtful," she said, and reached forward to stroke her fingers over the soft petals. "Did you... know I enjoyed gardening when I was a little girl?" she asked softly. Her thin fingers brushed over one of the red roses.

"I... had no idea," he chuckled softly. It seemed there was much he didn't know about Yaoyorozu... but he wanted to know everything.

"Mhm... I liked planting flowers and food in the gardens outside. My mother hated it because it always required me to bathe afterwards due to it's messy nature," she giggled. "But I guess... I enjoyed it because it was like being able to create something... only over a longer period of time. I was helping it grow..." she said softly.

Her eyes were so gentle as she looked at the flowers with longing nostalgia. "I love them," she said softly. "Thank you... really."

"I'm... glad I could get you a meaningful gift."

"Ah! Yes, very meaningful," she said and cleared her throat, looking towards him. "T-Todoroki-kun, are you familiar with the language of flowers?"

He could feel his face visibly pale. Yaoyorozu was intelligent, and if she loved flowers, obviously she would be aware of what they meant! He swallowed. "The... florist told me a little yes, but I mostly wanted to get ones of your favorite color." He rushed to speak.

"Red chrysanthemum usually stands for 'love', red roses mean 'love' and 'respect', and red carnations are for 'admiration'," she explained. "Todoroki-kun, did you-"

"I..." he cut her off, not wanting her to ask. However, there was a look of desperation in her eyes, as if she really wanted to know the truth. "I did..." he said softly. "I picked... those flowers on purpose."

"Y-You did?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I apologize, Yaoyorozu-san, I didn't wish to thrust my feelings upon you on your special day."

"What?!" she gasped and reached forward, taking his hands in her own. His eyes snapped open, staring at the way her fingers squeezed his with a fierce tenacity. "T-Todoroki-kun! You've only... made my day more special!" she said.

Without thinking, he held on to her, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers. "I like you, Yaoyorozu-san."

Her cheeks pulled into a wide smile. "I like you too, Todoroki-kun," she said. "Though I kind of figured all that out from the flowers."

"I thought I should... say it. Even though I'm not... great with words."

"Well, y-you certainly had me feeling a little flustered," she giggled.

She was so stunning, smiling, laughing in the slight hint of moonlight peering through the windows. It was his turn to blush as bright as the flowers. "Can I... kiss you again, Yaoyorozu-san?"

"Y-You may," she nodded, and he leaned forward, brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss. "I love... the flowers," she said softly.

He cleared his throat again, pulling back after their second kiss. "Maybe one of these nights I could... take you out just... the two of us."

"Like... a date?" she asked.

"Y-Yeah..." he muttered. "If you want...."

"I would love to!" she blurted out, but then laughed softly. "It... sounds fun. Just me and you. Tonight was fun, but… loud," she admitted.

"Alright, just me and you," he said. "Plus, I owe you a birthday dinner." He recalled himself standing dumbfounded in the kitchen.

"You do? What for?" she asked tilting her head.

"Ah... nevermind," he shrugged, and the two of them laughed softly.

"Thank you for helping me end my birthday in the most perfect way," she hummed. This time it was her turn to initiate the kiss, leaning forward to brush their lips together.

"Anything for you," he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. He could've stayed with her like that all night.

"Happy birthday, Yaoyorozu-san."

#todomomo #yaoyorozu momo #todoroki shouto #BNHA #boku no hero academia #BNHA fanfiction #fluff #happy birthday momo #todo is awkward or whatever

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shadow1879 · 7 years ago

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School Has Gone to the Dogs

By the time Stiles jeep had rumbled into the driveway that night, he was emotionally exhausted.

Really, he was bone tired and just looking forward to falling into bed. The pillows were calling his name and who was he to keep them waiting.

He climbed out of his jeep and walked into the house, shutting the door as quietly as possible, he headed into the kitchen and tossed his keys on the table as he walked passed. On his way to the stairs he pulled out his phone and checked his messages. There was two from Scott and five from an unknown number.

His brow furrowed but he shut his phone off and jogged up the stairs before turning towards his dad’s room. There was light coming out from behind the door so he knocked, then pushed the door open. He leaned against the door jamb and took in the sight before him.

Sheriff Stilinski was stretched out on his bed still in his uniform and shoes sound asleep with files resting under his chin. Shaking his head, Stiles entered the room and walking to the end of the bed to take his fathers shows off. He pulled the first one off, then the second; laying both shoes slightly under the bed. Walking around the bed silently he gathered up all the files, some of which had fallen off the bed to land in a heap on the floor, and placed them in a neat stack on his fathers dresser, right next to a picture of his mother.

He froze as he saw the picture. Claudia Stilinski was smiling at the camera, her dark hair curling slightly against her shoulders. She was wearing a hospital gown, only it wasn’t because she was sick. No, in her arms, resting against her chest was a scrawny baby boy wrapped in a blue blanket.

Stiles smiled and picked up the photo. She looked so young and carefree, not worrying about a thing in the world. Stiles leaned against the dresser and traced her smile with his finger.

He missed that.

He missed when she smiled at him and Stiles would feel all his worries melt away. Just a smile, that’s all it took.

One smile from his mom.

He jumped, as his father snored and quickly straightened up, looking back at his dad. He had rolled over in his sleep, no longer hindered by his shoes and multiple piles of paper. Stiles smiled and rolled his eyes before turning back to the frame he held in his hands. Carefully he placed the picture back where he found it and after giving it one more look, walked out of the room; shutting off the light as he went.

Back out in the hallway, he shut his father’s door and crossed to his room repeating the action with his own door. Now in his own room he flopped onto his bed in giant heap and pulled open his phone, opening the message left by Scott.

Scott: Dude, thanks for coming out tonight!!! P.S. Mom wants to ask if you want to come over for dinner, tomorrow???

Stiles rolled his eyes, Scott had to be the only person he had ever met that used P.S. in a text message.

He smirked and sent a quick reply, thankful Scott couldn’t hear his heart through the phone,

Stiles: Yea man, it was fun. Can’t go to dinner, old mans working.

That done he turned his attention to the unknown text messages. Finding out that they were all from different numbers.

The first read,

UNKNOWN: This is Lydia Marten. I stole your number from Scott.

He frowned and threw an arm under his head. Why the hell was Lydia-freaking- Marten texting him? Instead of responding Stiles just closed the message. Rolling over onto his stomach as he opened the next one,

UNKNOWN: It’s Jackson. I just have any numbers my girlfriend does.

Yeah the jerk wad seemed like the type. Every time a male even looked in Lydia’s way at school the guy would go completely Rottweiler on them. It was not a stretch to say he was a Werewolf. He opened the next one,

UNKNOWN: So, you’re the infamous Stiles? This is Erica Reyes.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his phone.

What the hell?

He opened another one,

UNKNOWN: Hey, Stiles we didn’t really get to talk but this is Isaac.

To how many people did Scott give his number to? Feeling a little weary he opened the last message.

UNKNOWN: This is Boyd

Okay...... Well, he did seem like a man of few words but why the hell was he TEXTING him? Why did any of them text him?

Shaking his head he deleted all of their texts without saving the numbers and powered his phone down. Hopefully, they would forget about him by Monday and things would settle down.

With that comforting though in mind, Stiles pulled himself out of bed long enough to pull pajamas on and brush his teeth but that was it. As soon as he was done he fell back in bed and was out seconds later.

.........

Sunday morning was spent doing homework and playing video games. His father had to work so he made lunch for himself and watched some TV, by the time his dad had made it back home he had dinner on the table; it was spaghetti with a white garlic sauce. His father was shocked by the dinner but then his eyes filled with understanding. They talked a little and his father was careful to steer clear of anything that had to do with the movie. When supper was finished he cleaned up and headed up stairs, tinkering around on his computer until it was time for bed. He very pointedly ignored his cell phone as he climbed into bed and turned off the light. Tomorrow, would come soon enough.

..........

Monday morning arrived and Stiles trudged out the door after checking his phone messages. He had a couple from Scott but received nothing else. He smiled, see things were back to normal.

Climbing up into his jeep, Stiles rumbled out of his drive and headed to school. He was going early so the roads were dead and he made really good time. He pulled into his usual parking spot in the front row. Scott had once asked how stiles was able to steal a front parking spot every day but didn’t wait to hear Stiles answer. If he had Stiles would have told him, hell Stiles would have probably brought him along one day but he didn’t really seem interested.

Stiles walked down the halls and into the library, nodding to Ms. Sheer as he passed her desk. He walked until he reached the back of the room where a gaggle of half awake teens sat at a big group table.Stiles smiled at them as he set his bag in a chair.

“Whats up, guys?”

Ten bleary eyed kids his own age blinked at him and Sylvia, a blonde haired girl glared at him,” Is there a reason you are always this level of energetic in the mornings?”

Stiles smirked, “Nope, I don’t even drink coffee.”

She rolled her eyes, “I hate you.”

Stiles chuckled as he unzipped his bag, gathering his notebook and pens. Stiles enjoyed tutoring. He liked seeing the excitement fill his fellow students eyes as they aced a class. After Scott got bitten, he had really fallen behind in his grades and Stiles had helped him get them up again. Now he does that for anyone willing to show up early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, which is not many. Some days he just sits alone in the library but others, like today, he has a good turn out.

Stiles pulled a notebook out of his backpack, “You won’t be saying that when you pass your history exam.”

Dropping his book on the table he slouched in his seat, “Now where did we leave off?”

After his study group was over the school had begun to fill with students. The place started to buzz with the loud talking of teenagers as Stiles exited the library heading towards his locker waving to his study group kids if he past them. Most of them waved back but others tried to ignore him. He just shrugged it off, nobody liked needing help after all.

He was a few lockers down from his own when he heard someone call his name. Turning in confusion he froze when he saw Isaac making his way towards him. He stopped a few feet from him and shifted awkwardly,”Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulders, “Hi, Isaac?”

He watched as Isaac shifted a little on his feet and scratched the back of his head.

He didn’t quite meeting Stiles eyes as he continued, “Um, we met Saturday at the movies.... with Scott.”

Stiles cocked his head, his lip curling a little in bemusement, “Yes, Isaac I remember.”

Isaac blushed a little and nodded, “Um, I was wondering if you do any tutoring for chemistry?”

Stiles blinked, a little taken aback by the question. He did do chemistry tutoring. Actually it was on of his most popular sessions and he did it mainly to annoy Mr. Harris who had hated Stiles from day one but it shocked him that Isaac had asked him about it.

Nevertheless, he answered automatically, “Yeah, I do. Um, its on Wednesdays before school.”

Isaac’s whole stature relaxed and he closed his eyes, “Oh, thank god, is there room for one more.”

Stiles shoved a hand into his pocket and stepped closer to the wall of lockers trying to get out of the way of other students, “Yep, it’s pretty spares right now. Most people don’t start showing up until a month before finals.”

Isaac nodded his blue eyes flicking downward, “Well, count me in for Wednesday.”

Stiles stepped back with a nod, “You got it. Just bring a list of stuff you need to work on and we will focus on that stuff.”

Isaac nodded, his brown hair flopping in a way that reminded him of Scott’s. With another nod stiles turned away and continued to his locker. Well, that was interesting to say the least. Isaac had seemed so nervous about talking to him, like he thought Stiles was going to laugh at him or something. He had never seen any of Derek’s pack like that. They always seem so confident and put together, he opened his locker with grin. Well everyone except-

“Stiles!”

Scott, everyone except Scott. He turned just in time to see his best friend race down the hall toward him, skidding to a halt in front of him looking horrified and Stiles had to suppress a smile as he waited for what he new was coming.

“Stiles the chemistry quiz is today!”

And there it is, He laughed to himself as he pulled out books from his locker.

“You’ll do fine.”

Scott pulled him to face him again, “Its not me Stiles, Isaac had been really struggling and I forgot to give him the notes that you gave me.”

“I already talked to Isaac.”

Scott relaxed his brown eyes filling with relief, “He came to you and asked?”

“Well he asked if I could tutor him?”

Scott opened the locker right next to stiles, “Good, I had been bugging him about that.”

Stiles turned back to his locker as well, “Relax Scotty, with my help he will be getting better grades then you.”

Scott slammed his shut and threw a sardonic expression his way, “Which we all know is extremely difficult.”

Stiles shoved his shoulder and closed his own locker, “You’re getting better.”

Scott rolled his eyes as the bell rang and headed towards his first class, “Only because I have a nerd as a best friend.”

Stiles heart warmed when Scott said ‘best friend’ and turned toward his own class with a smile, but not before yelling, “That’s Mr. Nerd, to you!” at his friends back.

His morning classes went by pretty quickly and soon it was his free period which he spent doing homework. Lunch was right after his free period which he was grateful for. Stiles was pretty sure his stomach had started eating is spine by the time he made it into the cafeteria. After going through the line he walked to the doors leading outside and found his usual table. Stiles had just started eating is fries when he saw Scott heading his way.

Lately Scott had been spending more and more time out on the lacrosse field, that included his lunch break. He said something about Jackson helping him and Isaac practice. He waved anyway so Scott would see him. Scott smiled and jogged over looking sweaty.

Stiles threw his water bottle at him, “How was practice?”

Scott caught the bottle and took a long pull before sliding into the bench across from Stiles and and resting his elbows on the table, “It was good.”

Stiles picked up a fry and gestured up and down Scott’s sweat soaked form, “Looks like it.”

Scott grabbed the fry from him and shoved it in his mouth, glaring at him, “Shut up.”

He grinned, “Hey, try to remember that this torture is self-induced.”

Scott’s glare intensified, “Are you done?”

Stiles winked and stole his water bottle back, “Probably not.”

Scott rolled his eyes and stole another fry. Chewing thoughtfully, he watched as Stiles uncapped the bottle and took a drink, “You should come next time.”

Stiles choked, coughing up water. His eyes watered and he banged his fist against his chest. Once he could breathe again looked through his watery eyes at his friend, “One, please remember that I, Stiles, you’re good buddy am human and as such I am able to perish by choking.

Scott leaned forward to whisper, “You know werewolves can choke too, “ before grabbing the water bottle again and finishing it off.

Stiles wiped his eyes, looking disgruntled.

“Not the point, and two ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!” He shouted not really making it a question.

Scott winced, rubbing his ear and looking around at the surrounding tables, then whispering, “No, stiles, we used to train together all the time.”

Stiles lowered his voice to a normal level, “Yeah, Scott we did. You and me used to train together, not you, me and, two other furry-”

“Furry what?”

Stiles flailed around to see Jackson and Lydia coming up behind him both carrying trays full of food. He gaped as they rounded the table and sat to the right of Scott. Lydia was looking at him expectantly.

“Um, I was just telling Scott why it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to train with him.”

Lydia looked over at Scott who was trying to hide a smile. Stiles glared at him then focused on his meal. While he would never hesitate at making dog jokes around Scott he always had to watch his mouth around other wolves. A simple marking territory joke had almost cost Stiles his life on one occasion.

“I think you should.”

Stiles jerked his head up to see Jackson staring at him while he bit into an apple.

He had to be joking.

“Trust me it is better that I sit on the bench.”

Jackson rolled his eyes, “I’ll admit you have the grace of a house cat in water, but you are quick on you feet which is a helpful skill while getting the ball to the net.”

He paused then added, “Just pass the ball, so someone else can get the ball in the net.”

And there it is folks, the Jackass.

“I think I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Pass on what?”

Stiles once again flailed but this time it was Erica and Boyd who sat on Scott’s left side.

Lydia flipped her hair, “The boys are trying to convince Stiles to get off the bench.”

Boyd uncapped Erica’s water, then gave him the once over, “I didn’t know you were on the team.”

Stiles groaned scrubbing his hands through his hair, “Exactly and I would like to keep it that way.”

Lydia took a bite from her salad, before pointing the fork at him, “Jackson’s right though.”

Stiles shook his head again. He didn’t want to talk about this. He liked bench warming, not as much as he liked playing but at least he wasn’t making a fool of himself like he would if he was out on the field.

Erica flashed him a razor sharp grin, “I didn’t know you played for that team either.”

Stiles flushed, he couldn’t help it. While he wasn’t embarrassed by his sexuality, just not something he really wants to talk about around a bunch of strangers.

Stiles opted to just glare at her.

Scott leaned forward, “It’d be fun stiles.”

The boy scoffed at his friend, then pointed to his sweat drenched shirt, “Yeah, a real blast,”

Suddenly a plate was placed down to the right of Stiles and Isaac joined the table. He sat down and smiled a little nervously at Stiles, “Can I sit here?”

He nodded.

Isaac relaxed a little and turned to the table before asking, “What’s going on?”

Everybody opened their mouths to answer but Stiles cut in, “Nothing! Nothing, is going on.”

Isaac looked confused so Stiles decided to distract him further by asking, “Why aren’t you covered in sweat?”

He knew Isaac practiced with Scott and Jackson but Isaac looked and smelled clean. So did Jackson but it was hard to imagine that he would ever look less then perfect. Scott on the other hand, looked and smelled a little worse for ware.

“No offense, Scotty but you are pretty rank.”

Scott glared at him as everybody laughed, including Isaac who sobered up enough to say, “We are usually so late to lunch that there are no tables left so after practice two of us will go take a shower and the other one will nab a table.”

He then gestured towards Scott, “It was his turn,”

Scott turned to Stiles, “Have you been sitting out here the last couple of weeks?”

Try a month. He had spent a month sitting out here alone, but he supposes in some minds a month is a couple of weeks.

Stiles pushed his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry, but he nodded at Scott.

“Yeah, it’s less crowded out here.”

Lydia smiled, “I like it the air doesn’t smell like food.”

Erica nodded, wrinkling her nose, “And the tables are bigger.”

Jackson leaned forward on the bench, resting his arms on the table, “It’s almost perfect, except McCall’s smell.”

Scott glared and slapped him on the back of the head. Stiles sucked a breath in, Jackson was not someone you fucked around with. He waited for the blow up but the lacrosse player only threw his apple core in Scott’s direction. Scott threw a napkin back and Jackson reached for Stiles fries, but before he could throw them Lydia grabbed his arm.

“Enough boys.” her voice was cool but seemed to shut down both Scott and Jackson.

Stiles watched the whole interaction felling a little left out. It was obvious his friend knew these people and cared for them. He didn’t hesitate to hit Jackson, just as Lydia didn’t hesitate to shut Scott down like he was her brother or something. Stiles glanced over to Erica and Boyd who were watching the whole exchange fondly, like it was an every day occurrence. Maybe it was.

Stiles was jerked out of his daze by Isaac who nudged his arm, “This is a nice spot, Stiles”

Stiles smiled at him in thanks, and that is pretty much how lunch continued until the bell rang. Stiles watched them banter and even joined in a couple of times. He was trying. If Scott liked these people and was dedicated to being pack with them, then Stiles would try his best to fit in as well. It was time to stop moping around for things to go back the way they were, when it had just been made clear to Stiles that they never would. His friend was happy, so it was time for Stiles to suck it up.

Just as Stiles was about to head back to class Scott grabbed his arm. He looked up to meet Scott’s familiar brown eyes as the wolf asked, “So, you and your dad in for dinner tonight?”

Before Stiles could answer, Scott added, “We haven’t been able to have a dinner since mom got remarried. I mean not like together.”

He knew what Scott meant, he wanted his mom’s new husband, along with Derek to get together with Stiles and his dad for a ‘family dinner’. They hadn’t been able to do that yet, mainly because stiles had been making it difficult but as he looked into the eyes of his best friend he knew it was time.

“Yeah, that would be great,”

Scott’s eyes filled with excitement and he almost started bouncing. Stiles knew he had made the right decision. Little did he know that his decision would be tested later that night.

Notes:

Chapter three!!!!!

Here it is guys, the pack have managed to squeeze into Stiles life and Stiles has made the decision to step up. Things are looking good!

Okay so, no sterek in this chapter but be prepared for chapter four!

Please comment and let me know your thoughts!!!

#the boy who runs with wolves #Chapter 3 #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #isaac lahey #erica reyes #vernon boyd #lydia martin #jackson whittemore #sheriff stilinski

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drreporting · 8 years ago

Text

Convalescence Pt.12

Thanks for following me on this journey. This was my first time writing a two parter so i hope you guys really enjoyed it. As always, lots of constructive criticism and compliments are welcomed.

Monday 18th July 2017.

“Follow my finger.”

“Oh god it’s brain cancer, isn’t it,” the patient exclaimed, panicking as Amelia assessed her, “I have brain cancer.”

Sighing and slowly rolling her eyes as subtly as possible, Amelia announced, “You don’t have brain cancer. You have a concussion.”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows. “Wh-what?”

“A mild one, too.” She pulled out her pad and wrote her a prescription. “There’s a pharmacy right across the street. Have a nice day.”

Seeing walk-in patients with ‘pneumonia’ and ‘brain cancer’ had become her new norm since Friday, when she finally started working again. Although she had agreed to the one week of clinic duty to get her back into the groove of things, seeing patients who’d wrongly self-diagnosed themselves at home was extremely annoying to the point where she contemplated quitting her job. Doing paperwork and lancing abscesses in the ER was work for an intern, and she was no intern.

“I have a surprise for you,” Owen beamed when Amelia exited the exam room, pulling out his phone, “Rosie took her first steps today at day care.”

She took the phone from him and grinned from ear to ear as she watched the video. “She’s gonna be twice as much trouble now.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, “I just figured you needed some cheering up today, especially after that toe abscess.”

“I did.” She looked up at him and smiled before turning her attention back to the video. “Thank you, Owen.”

He shrugged and smiled. “No problem. How’s your day been so far?”

“Sometimes I get the undeniable urge to eat a handful of ten blades,” she accurately described, “but it usually passes without incident.”

Owen laughed at the joke and smiled. “Well, if…”

“Got another patient, Shepherd,” Stephanie called from the ER desk, cutting him off, “Exam room two.” Stephanie had been running the ER for two inconsecutive days since Amelia had come back and she found that odd, knowing the resident showed a lot of interest in neuro and little to no interest in trauma. Maybe she was being punished.

Sighing sadly, Amelia handed back the phone to him and pouted. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Hopefully,” he teased, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before heading off.

“Good morning, Mr…-” She looked at her tablet – “Spring. How can I help you?”

“I’ve been having migraines for almost ten years,” he explained as he handed Amelia a copy of an MRI, “I’ve also had blurred vision and-”

“Brain stones,” Amelia finished, staring at the MRI in awe. Finally, a patient with a real problem.

---

“Are you sure he doesn’t have coeliac disease?” Derek asked as he and Amelia looked over the MRIs once more.

“They’re doing a spinal tap on him right now,” she replied.

He looked at her with a cheesy grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you mean CEC syndrome, then yes,” Amelia eagerly announced, unable to stop the wide grin on her face.

“But that’s so rare,” he exclaimed.

“I know!” she agreed.

“Know what?” Meredith asked as she entered the viewing room, two coffees in her hand.

“Amy found a CEC syndrome patient,” Derek proudly announced as he took one of the cups from Meredith.

“Are you gonna operate?” Meredith asked, taking a look at the slides herself.

“I doubt Bailey would clear me for surgery,” Amelia grumbled, wistfully looking at the scans.

“Well, I can’t do the surgery,” Derek reminded her, lifting his air cast, “And it is your patient. You should do the surgery. Ask Bailey.”

“Maybe,” she mused, her fingertips tingling at the thought of cutting into this man’s brain.

---

Owen sat at the side of the cafeteria, eagerly waiting to have lunch with his wife. With the usually unpresentable cafeteria food set neatly at the table for both of them to enjoy together, and the flowers he’d bought last minute to add to the décor, he couldn’t have been more excited to just enjoy a simple lunch with her and talk about lame things like the weather. However, after 20 minutes with no show of her, he ended up eating the whole thing and dumping the bouquet of flowers, safe for one sunflower.

With about 25 minutes left in his lunch, he ventured down the halls of the hospital, not really looking for anyone or anything. He stopped at the OR board to see who was doing what today, and was shocked to see Amelia’s name up on the board for a craniotomy in OR 2. He smiled to himself and shook his head.

---

He rested the sunflower over her tablet, momentarily distracting her from her patient’s chat. With furrowed eyebrows, she picked it up and looked at him questioningly before realising why he put it there.

“Crap,” Amelia hissed, squeezing her eyes shut, “Owen, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, although he was a little disappointed she’d forgotten, “We can have lunch another time.”

“It’s not okay,” she frowned.

“Forget about it,” he told her, “I saw your name on the OR board earlier.”

Her frown turned into a wide grin. Reaching into her lab coat, she pulled out a sample container holding a number of small, hard objects.

“Are those bladder stones?” he asked, confused.

“They’re stones, but not bladder stones,” she announced, “They’re brain stones from a CEC patient.”

“Really?” He smiled and listened intently as they walked down the hall, simply content with having her happy.

“I mean, the only downside is that I got to operate with Nelson taking the lead, but that doesn’t even matter anymore,” she finished, taking a deep breath, “I want to celebrate right now.”

“Celebrate?” Owen asked, chuckling, “We have a Tim Talk in an hour, how do you plan to do that?”

As they passed the supply closet, an idea struck her. “I only need 30 minutes.” Grabbing onto his tie, Amelia led him into the room.

---

“This is the finish line, guys. I legitimately didn’t think you two would make it here, but you did,” Tim celebrated, “Although…it’s not too late to get that divorce we were talking about.”

“I think we’re good, thanks,” Owen said.

In a lower voice, Amelia whispered, “Send me your guy’s card, just in case.”

Tim laughed. “I’m proud of you guys; you worked hard. I want to say I’m gonna miss you, but that would be a lie.” Amelia and Owen laughed and held each other’s hands. “No seriously, you two caused me a lot of stress induced migraines. Get the hell out of my office and, please, never come back.” He smiled at the two of them and winked.

“I think he genuinely hates us,” Amelia whispered as they left the office.

“I think I would hate us too, to be honest,” Owen agreed, swinging their laced hands in between them, “So, now what?” Amelia shrugged, a lost look on her face. Usually, their meetings would take up 2-4 hours out of the day.

---

“Ahh!” Owen huffed, collapsing to the floor with the camcorder in his hand. “I didn’t get it!”

“How did you not get that?” Amelia exclaimed, sitting down next to him and taking the camcorder to look back at the film, “She was walking for a whole ten seconds!” Rosie sat down and looked innocently at them, wondering what all the big hullaballoo was about.

“I don’t know how this stupid thing works!” he said, crossing his legs and looking over her shoulder, “Can’t I just take the video with my phone?”

“No, because phones fall in water and break and die,” she said, disappointed to find that Owen had, in fact, not gotten the video. Sighing in defeat, Amelia rested her head on Owen’s shoulder and said, “Let’s just give it a rest.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, kissing the top of her head. “I really thought I got it that time.”

“She’ll walk again when she’s ready,” she said, setting the camcorder down to the side.

Rosie stared at them and giggled, unaware of their plight. Pointing her tiny finger to Amelia, she said, “Dada.”

Amelia smiled, quickly correcting her. “No Rosie, mama.”

The little girl furrowed her red eyebrows, pointing to Owen, “Mama.” She pointed to Amelia again and said, “Dada.”

“I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon,” Amelia chuckled.

“I hope it doesn’t,” Owen remarked, a wistful smile on his face. “It’ll mean that she’s growing up, and I don’t want her to grow up.”

“Neither do I,” she agreed, “I already feel like I missed so much in the last 6 months.”

“You mostly missed her first words,” Owen shrugged, “I mean, I missed Ryan’s, so I guess we’re even now.”

Amelia looked up at him in disbelief before smiling and elbowing him in his ribs. “Ass.”

“I guess we can try again with the next one,” he shrugged.

“Maybe.” She looked at the little girl staring back at her with bright blue eyes, and smiled. “Look at what we made, Owen.”

“I know,” he agreed, sighing contently.

There was a peaceful hum of silence for a moment before she spoke up again. “I want more.”

“I know,” he said, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and squeezing it. He left the topic there, not wanting to push her before she was ready.

“Owen, I meant I want more now,” she clarified.

“Now?!” he exclaimed, looking down at her with widened eyes.

“Well, not now now, silly,” she mused, looking up at him with a nervous smile, “but 9 or 10 months from now, maybe…”

“Really?” he asked, a goofy grin beginning to make its way on his face.

“Well, unless you don’t want anymore and I just assumed…”

“No!” he quickly said, “I want more. I just didn’t think we’d have more any time soon.”

“I thought so too,” she replied, watching Rosie fiddle with the blocks near her foot, “But Rosie’s walking and talking and being miserably independent, and Ryan reads books and studies now instead of hanging out with his old bat of a mother…”

“You’re not an old bat,” he chuckled, “I’m an old bat.” Amelia giggled, making Owen smile.

“I miss the baby smell too,” she confessed.

“It sounds like someone has baby fever,” Owen taunted.

“Well, did you see Avery and Kepner’s new baby?” she said, “How could you not have baby fever?”

“That baby is cute,” he laughed. Owen pulled away a little and looked down at her. “Amelia, do you really want another baby right now?”

Amelia gazed at him and smiled before reaching up to give him a quick yet tender peck. “I do.”

He didn’t think he could smile any harder. “Then let’s make a baby,” he said, grinning mischievously as he moved her to lie on her back and towered over her, one hand pressing on the floor on either side of her face and trapping her.

“Owen, what?” she exclaimed, pushing on his chest to keep him away, “I didn’t mean now!”

“Now is the best time,” he teased, tugging on the elastic of her shorts.

She slapped his hand away and laughed. “Not in front of the baby!”

“It’s okay,” he said, dotting love bites along her jaw line, “She won’t remember any of this.”

“Ryan is upstairs!” Amelia tried, although she made no attempts to stop him anymore. That was when she noticed, in her peripheral, that Rosie had begun to walk again, this time towards them. She came all the way up to Owen and grabbed his jersey to get his attention. Confused, Owen looked to his side and noticed the baby pouting at her.

“No,” was the simple word she said, although it was fierce and sturdy. She began pulling on his jersey to get him off of Amelia.

“Okay, Red, no babies tonight,” Owen laughed, surrendering and setting Amelia free. He then took Rosie into his arms and cradled her in his lap. The little girl’s eyes had already begun to flutter close when he asked, “Amelia, we’re good, right? We’re okay?”

Amelia looked up at him with a confused, yet amused expression. “Of course…why?”

Owen looked down at Rosie then up at her, a little fidgety. “I just wanted to make sure, you know. Just in case…”

She brought her hand up to his face and caressed his cheek before giving him a kiss. “We’re okay.”

Fin.

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