#eventually i have to clean my tub and tidy and make dinner and a couple other things

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

My neighbors might hate me because I love singing while doing everything. Playing phone games? Music. Cleaning? Belting like I'm performing a concert. Walking? You can bet your buttons I have a karaoke track playing.

But I also have the horrible habit of playing one song on loop, and if I don't know then I learn it by picking up that way. But I only know certain lyrics for most of it.

So my neighbors have been hearing bits and pieces of Chronically Cautious all morning. Mostly "So if I'm honest, I think I'm beginning to question how much I want this," which I'm sure is not how they pictured their morning going. And I ended up playing a karaoke track, so that they got to hear the full thing about four times.

At least I'm a decent singer?

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Kiss Me

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Title: Kiss Me

Words: 1593

Summary: Charlie’s back from Hawaii and providing social media with all the content.

Requested: No. I had to write this after that video of Charlie singing in the bath tub…

TW: Implications of sexual intercourse, mostly the reader getting frustrated by Charlie being Charlie.

Author’s notes: I just wanted to write a bit of domesticity between Charlie and the reader, and thanks to all the content we got from him the other day, this kinda just fell into place. I hope you like it. - also, a little shout out to @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ because she’s been giving us some AMAZING fic content, and she isn’t feeling to great today. I hope this helps a little, Nele.

Three weeks without being able to see Charlie in the flesh had been hard. Yeah, he’d posted photos and videos while he’d been away in Hawaii with his castmates and Kenny, but it wasn’t the same. Neither were the intimate FaceTime calls the two of you shared pretty much daily. Nothing beat being able to wrap your arms around him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, to smell the scent that was intrinsically him. Yeah, you’d missed him like crazy.

Checking your watch, again, before checking the arrivals board you leaned up against the wall behind you waiting for his flight to disembark the plane and make their way through to the arrivals lounge. You scrolled through your Instagram feed, checking out what people had been tagging your boyfriend in, amazed by the talent of his fans. More than anything, you wanted to share them, but as no one knew about you, you couldn’t. It was a good thing you ran a semi-popular fan account that you could do it all from, and your story was full of amazing artwork and song covers. As far as your followers knew, you were just another fangirl.

You were so engrossed in the pictures on the screen in front of you, you didn’t hear Charlie approaching you, didn’t know he was right in front of you until grabbed you by the waist, making you squeal in shock and almost drop your phone.

“Oh my God, Charlie. You scared me.” You laughed, flinging your arms around his neck, breathing him in. 

“I would say I’m sorry, but my mom taught me that lying makes my nose grow and my tongue fall out. And I don’t think you’d want that.” He teased after placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“Well, no. But it would be quieter around the apartment.” Your response made him pull away and pout. “What? Am I lying?”

“I thought you loved me.” If he hadn’t been grinning like the loveable idiot he was, you would have believed his offended tone of voice was real.

“Oh, you know I adore you. Shall we go home?” as you slide your phone into your pocket, you take hold of his hand and lead him out to the parking lot where his car is parked. “Do you want to drive, or shall I?”

“You, please.” You know he’s not the most confident of flyers, so you understand his need to chill for a while before he’s at full Gillespie – a term you coined not long after the two of you met and he was his usual ‘constant overdrive�� self. He was always moving, doing something with his hands, or exploring. Charlie Gillespie didn’t do bored or sitting still very well.

Once you’re back at the apartment you share Charlie sets about unpacking his case, dumping his clothes in the washer straight away. It always strikes you how domestic he is. You’re not the best at remembering to do stuff, but he always manages to catch what you miss.

“Have you got to go to work?” he asks you as he leans up against the counter while you prepare some food for the two of you. You work at a TV studio, but the show you work on is on a break so your hours are more flexible than they would be normally.

“No, I’m all yours for a couple of days.” Your words make him grin before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Your kiss had led to more of an intimate reunion which led you both to your bedroom for most of the day. By the time you emerged, it was almost dark outside and the food you’d been preparing needed to be tossed in the trash. You couldn’t complain though because you’d been able to show Charlie just how much you’d missed him.

___________________________

After the insanity that was Charlie’s delivery from and subsequent live with Madison’s dad, you now had a billboard poster partially unfolded in your bedroom. Naturally, because he was often a child in an adult’s body, Charlie had been like a kid at Christmas when he’d been allowed to open the box. Off camera, he’d been able to slide the parcel that had been included with your name on – Mr. Reyes had so kindly included a hoodie for you which you were now wearing while you stared at the space around you in horror.

“Charlie, babe. Did you have to open it in here? You heard what he said, it took up their entire back yard. Our bedroom is like a shoebox.”

“Yeah, I kinda got carried away. Sorry.” Leaning over, so he wouldn’t rip the poster, he planted a kiss on your lips.

“Well, don’t expect me to help you fold it back up.” With a grin, you turned on your heel and flounced out of the room to post screenshots from the live to your fan account. Only Charlie knew about it and had followed you early on. Eventually, after hearing him swearing and falling over, you went in and helped him fold the damn thing up. It took a ridiculous amount of time, but it was soon back in the box ready to be transported to Canada in Charlie’s car when the both of you went back for Christmas.

Exhausted, you flopped onto the couch and decided to order in some food rather than cook. But first, you took a sweaty selfie and sent it to Madison.

I love your dad, but please don’t let him send us anymore billboard posters. It took two hours to get it back in the damn box.

Her reply was instant.

Dad never expected him to unfold the thing. Love to you both. She wasn’t wrong. Only the man you adored would have ever done that, and live on the internet too. Shaking your head, you ordered pizza.

“Babe, I need a favor.” Charlie spoke as he tidied up the pizza boxes and soda cans from your dinner, making you groan. You were still exhausted, and now a little bloated. All you wanted to do was to slouch and watch a movie, curled up in Charlie’s arms.

“What?”

“Help me set up my phone in the bathroom.” That got your attention.

“Er… why?”

He scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish look on his beautiful face that was covered in the stubble you adored.

“I want to do a couple of videos.”

“And you have to do it now? Haven’t you done enough today?” you close your eyes as you lean your head on the back of the couch. You sense Charlie standing behind you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s looking down at you, the puppy dog eyes in force. Even upside down, he knows what they do to you. “I hate you, did you know that?” you tell him affectionately. With a grin, he bends over and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

“I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” With a chuckle, he runs his jaw along yours, knowing the roughness of his stubble is a huge turn on for you.

“Yes, yes you will.” You pull away and stand up. The sooner you get this done, the sooner the two of you can snuggle, and the sooner you can claim your owed favor.

Grabbing the car keys from the sideboard, you head down to the car to get the phone holder. You figure the suction cup works on the car’s windscreen, so should work on the glass screen. When you get back into the apartment, Charlie’s changed clothes and has his guitar in his hand.

“Remind me why you can’t do this from the couch?” you ask, walking into the bathroom. It’s tiny and you know Charlie’s going to regret his decision, but when he mumbles about acoustics you keep your mouth shut. Trying to change his mind when it’s made up is nigh on impossible.

You manage to secure the phone holder to the shower screen you’d cleaned that morning, pull it across the tub, and leave the small space.

“All ready for you, maestro.” You call out as you enter the lounge. Charlie stands up, kisses you and disappears into the bathroom. You fully plan on putting the TV on, choosing a random Hallmark Christmas movie to watch, and wait for him to finish, but when you hear his clear voice singing what he knows is one of your favorite Ed Sheeran songs, you can help but go and stand at the end of the tub and watch him morph from Charlie your doofus boyfriend to Charlie the star.

You watch him, with a smile on your face, as he records a video for his Instagram reel, messing it up a couple of times and having to restart a few times, making you laugh.

“If you can’t be quiet, you’re gonna have to leave.” He scolds you without any anger in his voice.

“I’ll behave. For now.” You wink at him as he starts to record again. Once he’s done, he says he wants to do one more, slightly longer for his Tiktok account.

“Last try, because my leg’s falling asleep.” He speaks into the camera once it’s recording.

I’m in love now

Kiss me like you wanna be loved

Wanna be loved, wanna be loved,

Wanna be loved, yeah

As he sings, he looks up, catching your eye and smiling. In that moment, you fall in love with him all over again.

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: - if you want to be added, please send me an ask, just in case I happen to miss any comments

@dream-a-little-bigger-x​​ @calamitykaty​​ @crybabyddl​​ @xplrreylo​​ @morganayennefertyrell​​ @lovesanimals​​ @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve​​ @echocharm17618​​ @kinda-really-lost​ @n0wornever​ @all-in-fangirl​ @5sosmukefan​

[jubesy]

Your matchablossom stuff is so cute! Also I love the way you write. I was hoping to see how you might handle a more angsty or dramatic situation. Maybe with 15 or 1 for matchablossom. Of course if you take it a lighter direction, I’m sure it will still be amazing.

Hello, dear anon! Thank you so much!! Sorry it took me a bit to respond~ I was taking a break from writing for a couple days. But I’m back!

I do hope you like what I did with this. It takes place after Episode 9, so it’s mostly the comfort following the hurt. I hope that’s okay! This, uh, also went a bit long. Whoops?

Matcha Blossom #15 “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Also available on Ao3.

Link to my master list of Matcha Blossom drabbles

Joe sighed and cracked his neck as he finished locking up for the night. The trash had been put out, the prep was done for the following day, and he had a very special to-go order he needed to bring upstairs.

It had been several days since Cherry had conked out on his bartop. After which, Joe had brought him upstairs, deciding it would be for the best if Cherry stayed with him. Just until he was back on his feet.

Cherry had argued with him the following morning. But eventually agreed. It wasn’t like he had any meetings or deadlines coming up, so he could afford to take the time off and heal. And Joe was more than happy to help him with anything he might need.

However...Cherry was not the best house guest. 

“Kaoru!” Joe called as he opened the door to his apartment. “Dinner!” he tried when he received no response. 

“On the couch,” Cherry finally answered. Joe shook his head and removed his shoes before walking the rest of the way inside and shutting the door behind him. 

He found Cherry exactly where he said he’d be, lounging on the couch, watching some French drama. The coffee table was still littered with boxes from the lunch Joe had brought him and the bottle of wine he’d opened earlier was on its side. Empty. Oh, if only his fancy pants clients could see him now. Sakurayashiki Kaoru: The Ultimate Slob.

“Did you finish closing?” Cherry asked, his gaze still on the television. The images on the screen reflected off of his glasses.

“Just did. Yeah,” Joe replied, pushing the empty containers out of the way to make room for Cherry’s dinner. He really needed to tidy up. “I saved the last order of the special for you,” Joe said as he began picking up the trash and bringing it to the kitchen garbage. “I had to deny one of my regulars.”

Cherry snorted and finally looked at Joe properly. “Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” Joe answered, placing his hands on the back of the couch and leaning down to kiss the top of Cherry’s head. “Ugh,” he groaned. “All right. That’s it, Stinky. You’re getting a bath tonight.” 

And Cherry, who’d already leaned forward and opened his to-go box, turned to glare up at him. “I don’t stink.” He frowned.

“You haven’t bathed in five days,” Joe returned, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest. “And those little sponge baths don’t count,” he threw in before Cherry could argue. He received a groan in response. “C’mon, Kaoru. I’ll even wash your back.” 

There was a brief pause. “Ugh, fine,” Cherry surrendered with a sigh. Then he grew serious. “But after dinner. And you have to wash my hair.” He held up his bandaged wrist. “And rewrap everything after.” 

Joe grinned. “Yessir.” 

Once Cherry finished eating, Joe cleared it away and helped him to his feet. He was hobbling around a bit better now. In fact, he’d be back to skating shape in a week or so, according to Carla’s calculations -- If he continued resting properly and icing his sprain.

“I can’t believe this,” Cherry complained as Joe escorted him down the hallway to the bathroom. “It’s been days and I still feel like I was hit by a truck.” 

Joe chuckled. “We’re not as young as we were back then,” he supplied. “We can’t bounce back like we used to.” 

“Not as young…” Cherry echoed with a glare. “I know you’re not implying that I’m old.” 

“Not old,” Joe answered. “Just aged to perfection,” he teased. “Besides, it’s not just you. I’m only three months younger.” 

“And yet you look so much older,” Cherry noted. 

“Says the man who dresses like it’s the Edo Period,” Joe scoffed as he helped Cherry over the threshold.

“This coming from the man who has a closet full of bad Dad Shirts,” Cherry shot back.

The next insult was on the tip of his tongue, when Joe thought better of it. “Let’s just get you clean,” he paused, “Stinky.” 

Joe had gotten pretty used to getting Cherry in and out of his clothes over the past few days -- despite protests from someone who could apparently ‘handle it on his own’ -- and he’d even figured out how to wrap Cherry’s wounds properly. A big step up from putting plasters on each other’s knees when they were kids.

“I’m going to fill the tub,” Joe said, leaving Cherry seated on the stool by the shower. 

“You don’t have to narrate every single thing,” Cherry replied, lifting his good arm to rub at the other. “It’s freezing in here.” 

“You’ll be in the bath soon enough, you big baby.” Joe shook his head and turned on the tap. Once it was warm enough, he plugged the drain and turned his attention back on Cherry. “All right--” 

“Don’t announce it.” Cherry let his eyes slip closed. “Just do it.” 

Joe took a deep breath and grabbed the shower head. “Hold this.” He thrust it into Cherry’s good hand and then went about lathering up a washcloth. He was careful as he ran the cloth up and down Cherry’s back, just as he’d been over the last few days.

“You don’t have to be so cautious,” Cherry said. “It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” 

There was a nasty bruise that spread between his shoulders. Of course, his back had taken the brunt of the fall. Joe knew from experience that bruises tended to look worse as they got better. But even so…

“Yeah?” he asked, moving to soap Cherry’s arms. Then he took the showerhead and turned it on, washing the suds away. “You good to get the rest? Or do you need help?” 

“I’m perfectly capable,” Cherry answered, snatching the washcloth from Joe’s hand and lathering up his chest. Then he paused. “Thank you.” It was quiet, but Joe heard it. Still, he wouldn’t embarrass him by saying something as thoughtless as, ‘You’re welcome.’

Once Cherry was clean, Joe helped him into the bath and then turned off of the faucet. Cherry sighed, sliding down and resting his head on the tub’s rim. “And you wanted to put this off,” Joe said, watching as Cherry’s relaxed expression changed into a glare directed up at him.

“I was comfortable on the couch,” he said simply. “And now I’m comfortable here.” 

Joe hummed. “And when I try to move you to somewhere else comfortable, are you going to complain then?” 

Cherry closed his eyes again. “I’m not sure. I’ll decide later.” He shrugged.

“Well, let me know when you’ve come to a decision,” Joe said, standing back up and heading toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cherry asked, cracking one eye open. “You promised you’d wash my hair.”

Joe swallowed. If he was honest, he was a bit concerned about that. Cherry had hurt his head. And even though Carla had informed him that a suitable amount of time had passed and it was safe to wash. Joe was still worried. 

“Wouldn’t you rather wash it yourself?” he asked.

Cherry sighed and held up his good hand, wiggling his fingers. “It’s a bit difficult, given my condition.” He said it the way Joe had been saying over the past five days. ‘Should you be doing that in your condition?’ ‘Why would you think to get up and walk around in your condition?’ And so on.

Joe wanted to eat those words. It wasn’t his fault he was the mother hen of their little group. Someone had to be. 

“All right,” he said finally. 

“I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,” Cherry said. “You’ve changed my bandages for me.” 

Joe scoffed. “I’m not nervous,” he replied, making quick work of removing the old bandage. It came away clean. That was a good sign. 

“Then why are your hands shaking?” Cherry asked. Joe stilled. Were they? And Cherry took the opportunity to move slightly in the tub, the water sloshing as he turned to face him. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “I know it’s been a few days, but my hair isn’t completely--”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Joe admitted, cutting him off. And it was true.

Cherry raised his eyebrows. “You?” He blinked. “I know I’ve called you a clumsy oaf in the past--”

“Earlier today,” Joe corrected.

“--but you’ve been more of a gentle giant lately,” he said. “Too gentle, sometimes,” he added with a smirk. “So, there’s no reason to worry.” Cherry faced away again, situating himself so he could rest his neck on the rim of the tub. He closed his eyes. “I trust you.”

Joe found the corners of his lips curving up in a fond smile. His Kaoru was something else. 

So, he reached for the showerhead and shampoo and carefully rinsed Cherry’s hair. “Wow, Kaoru,” he faked a gasp.

“What?”   

“I think you’ve got a family of raccoons living in here.” He only laughed harder when Cherry tried to splash him. In hindsight, maybe he should have changed out of his work clothes instead of just rolling up his sleeves. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” He gently ran his fingers through the damp strands. “Does it hurt anywhere?” 

Cherry shook his head. “Just a little sore and kind of itchy on the back.” 

Joe hummed again and got to work. It was a bit of a mess, but didn’t let Cherry know. And, honestly, he was glad he was doing this for him. It wouldn’t have been easy -- what with his condition and all -- And once the water ran clear again, Joe grabbed the bottle of shampoo. 

“That smells nice,” Cherry said as Joe worked it up into a lather. “That’s not the one you use.” 

“Are you saying my shampoo doesn’t smell nice?” Joe replied, rubbing soothing circles into Cherry’s scalp. 

“Yes,” he answered and Joe had a sudden urge to spray him right in the face. But Cherry’s eyes were still closed and he looked so relaxed. So peaceful. Joe couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“If you must know,” Joe said, washing off his hands and moving to rinse Cherry’s hair. “I went out and bought this for you. Since you’ve been living on my couch for a week.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Cherry retorted. And then, a beat later, he smiled. “Who helped you pick it out?”

Joe pursed his lips, the urge to change the angle of the showerhead’s spray rising before he tamped it back down. “The lady who runs the store,” he said. “I told her my girlfriend moved in and that she has very fine, temperamental hair.” He snickered.

Cherry finally opened his eyes again, shooting Joe a glare. “My hair is not temperamental.” 

Joe snorted. “That’s your only objection?” He shook his head. “Okay, all done.” 

“You’re not going to condition it?” Cherry asked, craning his neck. 

“No?” Joe replied. He picked up the bottle again. “It says it’s two-in-one.” 

Cherry groaned and slid further down into the water. 

“What?” Joe furrowed his brow. 

“Nothing,” Cherry answered. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to soak for a while.” 

Joe regarded him for a moment before standing up. “All right. I’m gonna get changed.” He paused in the doorway. “Don’t fall asleep in there.”

“No promises.”  

“Kaoru!” He ran a hand down his face and hurried to his bedroom. If he got dressed quickly enough, he could stop his idiot childhood friend from accidentally drowning himself.

Request a drabble here!

[danfanciesphil]

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Mr Novokoric doesn’t cross paths with Dan for the rest of the day, so Dan doesn’t get a second opportunity to gawp at an entitled semi-celebrity, not that he has much of a desire to, after their first encounter. It’s probably for the best that Dan avoids him for a while, given that he’s still shimmering with rage. How was he supposed to know that this man is some sort of Royal exception to the hotel rules? Just because he made a mistake doesn’t mean he deserved to be talked to with such... disdain. 

So, devoid of any further unpleasant - albeit unnervingly handsome - strangers, the rest of Dan’s third day passes without much to note. Mona had been right about the days here being pretty much the same. He imagines it will soon become hard to distinguish one day from the next. He’ll have to use the evening film as a marker so he can remember which days he did what, though that won’t be easy either, as Mona has an apparent love for heist movies, which aren’t known for their vastly dissimilar plots.

Dan heads to bed weary, wondering how long it will take to fall into a routine, so he can drift through the days without thinking. As he fumbles for his key, he notes the light on in the next room again, and pauses. He spends most of his days alone here, either in the suite on the top floor, or out on the slopes somewhere. If Mr Novo-dick is really in the room next to his, then that presumably means the music Dan has been hearing is coming from him. At least that means Dan isn’t developing a slow schizophrenia, but it does seem odd. Dan wouldn’t have had the man who shouted at him this morning pegged as a Chopin enthusiast.

Putting it to the back of his mind for now, Dan goes inside and gets ready for bed, only realising he’s being especially quiet when he’s already in his pyjamas, sat under the covers, ears staining to hear something above the silence. As the wait stretches on, Dan feels the familiar weight of his own guilt, failure and misery closing in, and soon the first of his tears begin to drip from his lashes. Soon, he is full on sniffling, eyes streaming, mouth pulled down in an unattractive curl.

And like clockwork, a melody begins, drifting slowly and calmly through the wooden wall. It’s soothing and delicate, making Dan’s sniffs lessen, and then stop altogether. He sighs in relief, settling back into his pillows, and lets the music buffet him gently into a long, deep sleep.

*

The next couple of days pass in a similar vein. Dan is woken early by the extreme light pouring into his room. He drags himself downstairs and into the kitchen, where Louise teases him for ten minutes straight while he drinks the coffee she makes him, and eats whatever delicious food she’s prepared. He sets up for breakfast out on the balcony with Mona, and serves the four guests that attend, all of whom tell him he’s a ‘charming’ and ‘polite’ young man. 

In the intervening hours between breakfast and lunch, he cleans the guests’ bedrooms and changes the beds, tidies the communal areas, and if he’s feeling brave, goes outside to sweep the area around the hot tub and wipe down the benches in the sauna. He and Mona then serve lunch, eat whatever Louise has left over, then do a general stock take. After that, they serve dinner, eat dinner, and finally set up the evening film. During any downtime, Dan sits at the front desk, answering the phone when it occasionally rings, booking in new guests, or granting the requests of current ones. At the end of the long days, Dan falls onto his bed, sometimes managing to worm out of his clothes, sometimes not, and makes a valiant attempt at crying himself to sleep. Inevitably however, that light, classical music starts up before he can get too lost in his own sadness, and he finds himself floating away with it, his cheeks sticky with dried tears when he wakes up the next morning, ready to repeat the whole thing again.

He’s never exactly rushed off his feet, but he rarely has time to be bored, apart from late in the evening, when Mona leaves him at the desk, and he wiles away the hours until his shift ends playing on his phone, or reading one of the books left for guests on the mezzanine lounge.

For three days, Dan doesn’t speak again with Mr Novokoric, though he does glimpse a flash of crimson from his window each morning, and occasionally catches sight of him wandering through the hotel, on his way back from the hot tub, or clasping a cup of coffee as he sneaks back into his room. On his fifth day, Dan watched from the desk as Mr Stevens - a middle aged guest with a receding hairline and an aversion to wearing anything except a robe - accost Mr Novokoric in the lobby to discuss the weather. Somewhat hilariously, Mr Novokoric appeared to be too polite to simply turn his back on the man, and had stood for eight patient minutes, responding in short, stunted sentences, and looking extremely uncomfortable. It had been the highlight of Dan’s day.

On Saturday, Dan’s seventh day, just before noon, Dan is sat at the front desk, wondering if Louise might have finished making lunch yet, and if he could go up and see, when the front door slams open, and Mr Novokoric hurtles through it, still wearing his skis. Dan can only watch, mouth agape, as the man awkwardly but determinedly slides his way into the lobby before reaching down, muttering angrily, and undoing the skis one at a time. He then proceeds to kick each one hard, sending them skittering across the wooden floor, and into the far wall. It’s reckless, idiotic behaviour, and if it had been anyone else, Dan would not have hesitated to call them out on it. The skis are heavy, and the walls are made of wood, for christ’s sake. Dan can see the chips they’ve made from all the way across the room.

Mr Novokoric does not, apparently, care about this. He marches across the room towards Dan, pulling off his thick gloves and tossing them to the floor as he goes. If he thinks Dan is picking them up for him he can forget about it. By the time Mr Novokoric is at the desk, Dan’s mouth is a set line, and he’s having trouble keeping himself from curling his fingers into fists.

“Sir, is there something the matter-”

“I need to use your phone,” Mr Novokoric barks. “Now.”

Dan thinks about saying no, or refusing, mostly because he wants to piss this asshole off, but his years of customer service training override his petulance. “Certainly, Sir,” he says through gritted teeth, then reaches underneath the desk, and lifts the corded telephone up onto it. “Go right ahead.”

Mr Novokoric snatches the receiver at once, and immediately begins punching in numbers with such vigorous jabbing motions that Dan fears for the keys. He lifts the receiver to his ear, fingers drumming restlessly on the lip of the desk. He turns to Dan, incredulous.

“Are you just going to stand there and listen to my private call?”

Heat surges into Dan’s cheeks, mostly born of the intense anger that sweeps through him. He doesn’t trust himself to reply, so he simply turns from the sight of the man in front of him, and begins pretending to be engrossed in the guest information database on the hotel’s only ancient computer.

For a moment, Dan can still feel eyes on him, and is convinced he’s about to be shouted at further, but then he hears Mr Novokoric’s voice say “about bloody time!”

The voice on the other end of the line, which Dan can just about hear, replies, “who is this?”

Dan has to hide his smirk in his hand.

“It’s your husband, you wank-stain,” comes Mr Novokoric’s hushed, furious response, which has Dan’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognise my voice.”

“Phil?” the disembodied voice says, vaguely. “This isn’t the number you were calling from a minute ago.”

It’s taking an extreme amount of effort for Dan to keep his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. He tries valiantly to appear as though he’s engrossed in reading the Stevens’ guest information. It seems that under ‘special requests’, Mr and Mrs Stevens had asked for ‘an extra robe each’.

“That’s because you pissed me off so much that I dropped my phone down a mountain!”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and then the responding voice says, a touch amusedly, “a little harsh to blame me for that, darling. What could I possibly have said that would upset you so much?”

“I’m upset because you cancelled on me, again!” Mr Novokoric snaps. “I can’t believe you, Nikolai. How long are you going to leave me up here at the peak of Mount-fucking-Whatever? Are you playing out some warped, Rapunzel love story for the media?”

There’s something vaguely pathetic lurking beneath Mr Novokoric’s words. Dan squints at the screen, not seeing it, and strains to hear whatever is being said on the other end of the line.

“Darling, you know I’d have you with me in a heartbeat if I could,” the voice says, sounding slow and distracted. “I’ve just been drowning in all these meetings and dull media-stints. You’d be bored stiff if you were here. It won’t be much longer. There’s that benefit thingy in a week or so, right? You should probably come along to that. I’ll send the helicopter to collect you.”

“Oh I should probably come, should I?” Mr Novokoric snarls. “Good to know that, as we’re married, it’s probably a good idea for us to be together at least one fucking night of the year. You know, most married couples actually live in the same house. We’re not even in the same country most of the time!”

“It’s for the best that you stay out of the public eye for a bit, Phil. We’ve spoken about this.” 

“Even if that’s true, Nik, you said you’d take a few days off to spend some time with me-”

“I have to go, darling, I’m sorry,” the voice says. Dan might be imagining it, but he thinks he hears a splashing noise, followed by a shriek of laughter. “I’ll see you in a week.”

“What’s that noise? Nikolai, are you in the Ibiza apartment again-”

He cuts off as the dull note of the dial tone replaces the other person’s voice. Dan chews the inside of his cheek, and sneaks a glance up as Mr Novokoric places the receiver down, slowly, and turns to lean against the desk. At first, Dan is smug; he wishes he were able to hang up so brutally on him, but on closer inspection, he notices that Mr Novokoric actually appears to be crying. At least, his bright blue eyes are glistening. Traitorously, Dan’s good nature wins out, and he feels his heart squeeze in dumb sympathy. Dick-brain or not, Dan can’t just sit by while a guest he’s employed to look after cries right beside him. He plucks the box of tissues from the shelf behind him.

“Ex-excuse me, Mr Novokoric,” Dan says, swallowing a wash of pride for getting the name right on his first out-loud try. He holds out the box of tissues even though the other man doesn’t acknowledge him. “Here, take these.”

Mr Novokoric turns to Dan coldly, snatching the box from him. “I’m not crying,” he insists, but yanks a tissue from the box anyway, scrubbing it over his face.

“Oh, no,” Dan says, nodding in complete agreement with this outright lie. He really is an absurdly patient and talented customer service worker. “I just thought…” he scrambles for a viable explanation. “Well, I don’t know about you but I think the, er, high altitude of this place does something weird to my sinuses. I’m blubbering every night,” he jokes, thinking that the peppering of truth might give his ramble a little weight. 

It would be so easy, Dan thinks, for Mr Novokoric to accept Dan’s fumbling excuse for the offer of tissues, to blame the thin air for his tears and never speak about it again. But evidently the man has a defensive arsenal so loaded and precarious it can be triggered with the slightest wrong step.

So, Mr Novokoric’s expression hardens, and he says, “so it’s you that I can hear wailing on the other side of my wall, is it? You should keep these for yourself.” He shoves the tissues back into Dan’s hands. “Maybe then I'll actually get some sleep.”

Like he’s been whipped, Dan shrinks back, attempting to swallow the burning lump of coal now lodged in his throat. Any response he might have had, stupidly kind or not, dies on his tongue. For a split second, he imagines he sees a flash of regret pass over Mr Novokoric’s features, but then he is stalking away, skis lying forgotten against the wall, and stomping up the stairs. Dan sits heavily down in his chair, and tries not to let the flames of angry, hurt humiliation burn him to ash.

*

That night, Dan does his best to muffle his sobs in his pillow. They’re worse tonight, because the embarrassment of knowing he’s being heard, that he’s been heard this whole time, only makes him feel worse. If he could halt the tears altogether for Mr Novokoric’s sake he would, but nightfall has always been the time where his resolve leaves him. With nothing to distract him, Dan can only dwell on everything that’s wrong. At ten past one, however, the music seems to know to start up anyway; it’s baffling, obviously, but the only explanation Dan can think of is that the music is either unrelated to Dan’s crying, or being played to drown it out. He tries not to be grateful for it, knows that before long he’ll rely on it to send him off, but in the end he can’t help letting the swells of notes wash over him, and press him into unconsciousness.

*

Just after lunch has been cleared on Sunday, Dan is caught in a pleasant but rather over-detailed discussion with Mr and Mrs Stevens about their show-dog, Sherbet, when Louise calls him over from the serving hatch. He excuses himself politely, leaving the middle-aged couple to their game of Uno, and walks up to her.

“What’s up with you today?” she asks as soon as he’s within earshot, then places a mug of coffee in front of him. “You’ve got a face like a trodden foot.”

He manages a smile, but he doubts it’s very convincing. “Just tired,” he says, picking up the mug. “Thanks.”

She slaps his wrist, and he almost spills some. “That’s not for you, foot-face.”

“Oh.” He lowers it, glancing back at the Stevens’s. “Did they order…?”

“It’s for Phil,” she says, briskly wiping up the coffee Dan spilled with a wad of kitchen roll. For a moment, Dan just looks at her blankly, and she raises an eyebrow. “Mr Novokoric.”

“Oh,” Dan says, and smartly places the mug back down, stomach squeezing.

For whatever reason, his abrupt action makes Louise laugh. “Christ, he’s not a yeti, Dan. Anyway, he’s been looking for you all morning, so I thought you could take this to him.”

Exhausted as he is, it takes the words a few tries to penetrate Dan’s addled mind. “Wait, what?” he asks eventually, sure he must have misheard. “Looking for me?”

“Yes,” Louise replies, like this is a perfectly normal occurence. “Mona mentioned it earlier. Apparently he was hoping to catch you at breakfast but you weren’t serving.”

“I… I was adjusting the chlorine levels in the hot tub,” Dan says, feeling as though he’s stood on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Mr Novokoric is looking for him, specifically? Had he not made Dan feel awful enough yesterday? Is he looking for another chance to brutally attack his ego for a trivial reason? “Do I have to take this to him?”

Louise looks at him strangely. “Are you scared of him or something? I know he’s technically Royalty, but he’s just a regular guy underneath, Dan. Not much older than you. I know it’s a bit daunting at first, but don’t worry. He’s pretty chill.”

This makes Dan snort. “I’ll try and remember that next time he’s verbally abusing me.”

“Yeah, he’s a hot-head at times,” Louise allows. “I remember my first few encounters with him being on the snippy side. You’ve just got to get past that though, he doesn’t mean it. I just think he’s a bit… frustrated.” This makes Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Louise laughs at her own phrasing. “Not like that. Well, maybe like that. I mean, he’s here for weeks at a time, supposedly having ensnared this fabulous young hottie. But where is this prize pig, y’know?”

“Ibiza,” Dan mutters, and when Louise sends him a puzzled look, he picks up the coffee mug, sensing defeat. “Where am I taking this, then?”

“He was heading for the gym, last I saw.” Louise watches him make his way towards the stairs, being extra careful not to spill any coffee lest he feel the wrath upon its delivery. “Dan?” she calls out, making him pause. “Be nice, okay?”

“Me be nice?” Dan exclaims, and turns to shoot her an incredulous look, but Louise’s expression is unmoved. 

“Just let him say what he’s got to say.”

“Let him belittle me, you mean?”

Louise sighs heavily, turning away from him, and Dan is left in the middle of the mezzanine with a steaming mug of coffee, and a niggling sense that there’s still some great secret etched into the wooden walls of this place that he still hasn’t been entirely privy to.

*

Dan has only been in the gym once, on his first day, which is a perfect allegory for his entire mentality around gyms in general. From outside the door, he can hear a rhythmic pounding noise, like someone is punching the shit out of something. It’s unsurprising, then, that as he enters the gym, he sees Mr Novokoric in the corner by the mirrors, punching the shit out of a big cylindrical bag. For obvious reasons, this sight does not instil Dan with a desperate urge to go over and interact with Mr Novokoric, who is wearing headphones, and appears not to have noticed Dan come in.

Giving him a wide berth, Dan slowly approaches, intending to place the mug of coffee down on a nearby surface and escape quickly before Mr Novokoric has the chance to either hit him or yell at him some more. Instead, what happens is this: Dan attempts to edge along the wall to put the coffee down, and at the same moment, Mr Novokoric draws back his elbow and catches Dan in the arm, jolting him. Louise makes a good cup of coffee, Dan will admit. As it soaks through the fabric of his shirt sleeve, however, he can’t help but wish it was a little less scalding.

“Fuck,” Dan shouts, just as Mr Novokoric jumps back in surprise, ripping his headphones from his ears. He’s panting and damp, strands of his jet black hair sticking to his forehead, making it look like he’s got a stupid noughties side-fringe.

“Careful!” Mr Novokoric exclaims, as if Dan hasn’t already done the stupid thing. Surprisingly, he takes the mug of hot coffee from Dan’s hand. “Are you hurt?”

Dan shakes out his sleeve, wincing. “I’ll live. Sorry for startling you.”

“You should announce yourself next time,” he says, like a wanker. Like Dan calling out ‘whaddup it’s me your boy Dan’ would have done any good at all when he was blaring what Dan thinks is... Fall Out Boy? Really?... through his headphones. “I could have really hurt you.”

Doubtful of this statement, Dan’s eyes flick down to Mr Novokoric’s biceps. Begrudgingly, as he surveys the shallow valleys of his arm muscles, Dan admits to himself that out of the two of them, there’s no question of who would best the other. Dan’s never been more glad of his own long sleeves.

“Yeah,” Dan mutters, wanting nothing more than to scurry away to his room and recover from this incident with the excuse of changing his wet shirt. “Sorry, Sir. Won’t happen again. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Wait,” he says as Dan turns to go. “I wanted to speak with you.”

Oh, God. It’s true. Louise wasn’t pulling his leg, it seems. Dan seriously considers just legging it. He could potentially feign a third degree burn from the coffee and sprint back through the doors. “Um, yeah,” Dan says, his own cowardice feeling vaguely nauseating as it curdles in his stomach. “She mentioned.”

“Yesterday, when I used the phone at reception-”

“I’m really sorry that I’ve been keeping you awake,” Dan blurts, badly needing this to be over now. “I never meant to-”

“I owe you an apology,” Mr Novokoric says, which stuns Dan into silence. For a minute, all he can do is stare into those two darting blue eyes, utterly perplexed. Mr Novokoric sips his coffee self-consciously. “It was rude and completely unacceptable for me to hone in on something so personal. I have no idea what your circumstances might be. I was upset, and I lashed out. So,” he sticks his hand out, awkwardly, into the space between them. “I’m sorry. Can we put it behind us?”

Dan stares at his outstretched hand as if it were a foreign beast. Then, belatedly remembering societal norms, he reaches out and takes it. “W-well, I suppose-”

“Great,” Mr Novokoric says, shaking Dan’s hand quickly, once, up and down, and then dropping it like it’s coated in poison. 

Dan stares at Mr Novokoric’s back as he sets the coffee down and pulls his gloves back on. Could it be that there’s a shade of decency to this man? Not once did it cross Dan’s mind that the reason he might be looking for Dan was to apologise.

“Yeah, great,” Dan echoes softly, and Mr Novokoric turns, eyebrows raised, as if he’s surprised Dan is still standing there.

“You can go now,” he says, puzzled, and turns his back.

All thoughts that Mr Novokoric is anything less than a rude, entitled bitch flies out of the gym window. Dan rolls his eyes, shaking his sleeve dry as he turns to leave.

(Chapter Four!)

[footballfinns]

Tension

Summary: Finn and Rachel have a tense night.

Rachel laid on the sofa, her body completely exhausted after a busy lunch shift at work. Over two weeks had passed since her procedure and according to her regular gynecologist, everything looked okay. No infections, no swelling due to the catheter. She was well on the road to recovery, though she'd been scolded for pushing herself back to work a little too soon. But she didn't care.  She still felt quite a mess, physically and emotionally, and it showed most in the fact that the apartment was chaos - the dishes and laundry were starting to pile up - and she came home just to take a nap. Even taking care of the cat seemed like too much. She should've been up, making dinner for Finn but she couldn't be bothered with that either.

Things at home had been a little messy lately. Between Rachel still not feeling well and Finn’s schedule being so busy, it seemed like there was no time to be at home and just take care of things. He was about to have the next day off thankfully and he was more than ready for it with the way things had been going. When he walked in the door, he took his shoes off and gave Rachel a hello as he passed by her to the kitchen so he could pour himself a bowl of cereal. He had forgot to pack a lunch today and didn’t have time between school and work to eat, so he was starving. He stood over the counter, eating his cereal and watching Rachel. “What did you do today?” He asked her.

Hearing the door open woke Rachel completely, and she watched as he went straight to the kitchen and got himself a bowl of cereal. The question felt like an accusation, though she was sure it wasn't meant to be. “I went to work then came home and laid down.” She propped herself up, her head aching a bit. “Was there something I was supposed to do other than that?”

“I was just trying to talk..” He gave her a confused look before deciding to just focus on eating so he could get the kitchen clean and make dinner.

“And I was just asking a question.” She climbed off the sofa, ready to change out of her work clothes and sit in the tub for a few minutes like the doctor had told her to continue doing. “I'm taking a bath.” Not that she needed to announce a thing like that but she figured it would be a signal that she wanted quiet. She even locked Oliver, who'd been following her around and trying to get some attention, out of the bathroom.

“Fine.” He replied, still looking down at the counter. It hurt his feelings a little that she didn’t ask him to join her, not that he would have said yes at the moment. He finished eating and looked around to decide what to make for dinner, but it seemed they had both forgot about groceries. With a sigh, he picked his keys up again and walked out so he could go to the grocery store. He was too hungry still to actually shop, but he got enough for his lunches and a few dinners. When he returned, he put everything away and cleaned up the kitchen as he made a frozen pizza.

Rachel's forehead rested on her knees as she sat in the tub, Oliver meowing at the door. Why it was grating at her nerves, she wasn't sure. Everything seemed to lately and all she wanted was a minute to herself. Eventually, she had to get out and sit with him on the bed, scratching his ears until he fell asleep. She put on a long t-shirt and shorts before moving back to the living room. Finn was tidying in the kitchen, the oven on and warming the room. “You got groceries?”

“There was no food.” He shrugged as he put a dish away.

Rachel had known that but hadn't been motivated enough after work to go and buy any. Leftovers from the restaurant had been working out… or at least that's what she'd thought. “Thank you for going then.”

“Well, I was starving. I forgot to bring a lunch today.” He explained as he finished up the dishes.

Lunch would've been difficult for him with limited food in the house. She also hadn't made him one, which she tried to do as much as possible. One more thing that had been neglected recently. “Sorry. I just didn't get to it last night.” Because she'd gone to bed painfully early, tired from running food to other people all day.

“It’s fine. I can make my own lunch. I just forgot this morning.” He shrugged.

Rachel actually felt quite guilty about everything, another strange bout of emotions she couldn't explain. Her default was to chalk it up to being a bad wife. “And your own dinner too, I see.”

Finn rolled his eyes before looking over at her “Everything fine?”

Everything was… tiring. Especially when she caught just a glimpse of his gesture. He was more than likely irritated, which she understood to some degree. Having to work, then come home and deal with cleaning up on a virtually empty stomach wasn't her favorite either. “As long as you have something to eat, that's what counts.” Whether or not it sounded it, Rachel meant to sound sincere.

He nodded his head, glad that the timer on the oven rang so he could turn away and get the pizza out of the oven. He cut it up and grabbed a couple of slices before sitting on the couch.

Rachel hated when they were like they were now. Not fighting but not… good. The silence was uncomfortable and every unspoken word was a hair trigger. And it was inexplicable, Rachel not knowing how or why it got that way. Though she suspected she was somehow the culprit, an old habit that never seemed to die completely. She sat down next to him, quiet and careful not to crowd him. “How was work? School?”

“Shitty.” He said as he worked on getting the TV on and flipping through channels.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rachel took the television as a sign that he didn't but she knew she should ask.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I just didn’t sleep well and people were annoying. That’s all.” He shrugged.

Rachel nodded. “That does make things more difficult. Hopefully you'll get some rest tonight.” But she was done bothering him while he ate and tried to relax. Combing her fingers over the side of his head, she kissed his temple then climbed to her feet to go retrieve Oliver from the bed.

Finn watched her walk away, then finished off his pizza. He stood up and put the leftovers away. “I’m gonna take a shower and get ready for bed.” He told her before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rachel had let Oliver down, not wanting him to hurt himself trying to jump down. She looked up as Finn walked past. She would have asked if he wanted company but she also figured he'd have mentioned if he had. Sitting back down, she looked around the room and back at the bathroom door.

Finn took his time showering and even shaved his face, which he hadn’t done much of the past week. When he had run out of things to do in the bathroom, he returned to the bedroom in his towel and began searching for pajamas. “I really need to do laundry.” He said with a sigh as he pulled out his last clean pair of underwear.

Rachel was sitting against the head of the bed when he came back in. “I can do it tomorrow after my breakfast shift.”

“I would rather just do it myself, but thank you.” He wasn’t sure if Rachel was purposely not doing everything she had always done to prove a point or if she really were that tired since the cyst, but he figured either way he would start doing his own chores.

Her stomach lurched, Rachel wondering if her subpar housekeeping had made him think she was just being lazy or if she really just did a poor job when she was doing it. Which was stupid, she thought. How could she mess up laundry? “Or we could go together?” Since they hadn't done much of that lately either. “It's not exactly quality time but…” It was better than nothing.

“Yeah, we’ll see. I have the day off tomorrow so I have a bunch of stuff I have to get done. So..” He shrugged.

Rachel wasn't sure what she'd really expected, but it wasn't ambivalence. She didn't know whether to be upset or insulted that he didn't have any interest in spending time with her. Or what he really did or didn't want, she told herself. “It's okay if you can't wait.”

“We’ll just see how tomorrow goes. What time are you off of work?”

Rachel was starting to feel overexposed, like everything she could say was going to turn out wrong. “I get out at noon.”

Finn probably wouldn’t want to get out of bed and out of the house before then, so he nodded his head. “It would probably be easier to go down and do our laundry all at once.”

Rachel didn't have much of a response to his seemingly logical assessment. “Okay.” She looked to the partially opened door, Oliver balled up next to it. “I'm going to put the cat in his bed and I'll be back.”

He moved to lay back in bed, getting comfortable. It was still early, but the way things had been lately just caused him to feel both exhausted and wired so sleep hadn’t been coming all that easy. When she returned, he moved a little more into his side of the bed. “I might see if I can pick up an extra shift tomorrow afternoon.”

Rachel picked up Oliver and took him to the other room where he normally slept. She held him to her chest for a minute, wishing the affection she got was enough. She kissed his head before setting him on his pillow and going back to her own bed. “If that's what you want.” She couldn't argue with him when money came into play, especially because they needed to work on building savings again while preparing for medical bills. But it hurt when he moved away from her, then made a point of being out of the house. “Every little bit helps.”

“Yeah, taking a day off just makes me feel guilty. I’ll see if anyone needs a cover tomorrow.”

Rachel understood the guilt he expressed, especially when she felt like part of the problem. They managed bills and living fine when everything was normal. But when things deviated from that path, like hospital visits and time taken off work, money was difficult. “It's not that you're taking it off so much as they gave you a day off. But I understand the feeling. That was me the week I was off after the procedure.”

“You needed that time off.. And more.” He replied, but decided to drop the subject so they wouldn’t fight. “Anyway, my last day of school is on Friday. I didn’t realize it had already come up.”

Rachel was well aware of how he felt about her going back to work so soon, and she'd have probably bit back if he hadn't brought up school. She turned to look at him, a smile catching her lips. “It did come fast, but you worked hard for it. We should celebrate, do something special.”

He shrugged his shoulders “I don’t think we need to make a big deal out of it. I think the other guys are planning on going out to dinner or something.. Probably going to a bar but I’m not 21 and I don’t even remember where I put that ID Puck gave me, so I figured it would just be another normal night here.”

Rachel held her smile but the emotion behind it faded. But it was his accomplishment and she wasn't going to push anything on him that he didn't want. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know and I'll make something special for dinner. One of your favorites.”

Finn nodded his head, giving her a small smile back. “Thanks.” He replied softly. “I think I’m going to try to go to bed early tonight. Catch up on sleep a little bit.”

Rachel couldn't blame him for wanting sleep, especially since he'd been lacking in it. She also didn't want to disturb him by not being able to sleep herself and she went back and forth about whether she should go in the other room or not. “That's probably best. I'm just going to watch something on my phone then.”

He sunk down against the pillows and meant to close his eyes but they stayed on her. He hated it when things felt weird between them, especially because it always seemed to come out of nowhere. They hadn’t had time to just be alone with the exception of right when she got out of the hospital, so maybe that was the problem. He wasn’t entirely sure and he wasn’t sure he had it in him to fix it right then. “I love you.” He told her softly.

Rachel was getting settled, her earbuds in her hand when he spoke. Looking down, she couldn't overlook the sweetness of his face. No matter where they were at in their relationship, good or bad, she always managed to see that bit of Finn that was so easy to love. Moving her hand to his cheek, she leaned down to kiss him gently. “I love you too.” The bridge of her nose brushed his in a brief sweep before she gave him another short kiss.

He kissed her back, his eyes closing as they kissed. “You mad at me?” He asked her in a whisper.

Rachel shook her head, her lips never moving far from his. “I'm not mad at you. I just wish we had more time together right now, that's all.” Which was true, but she couldn't think of a time when it hadn't been.

“Just kind of felt like you didn’t want me home yet when I walked in today.” He admitted.

Rachel pushed hair back away from his forehead before letting hers rest there. “I was cranky when I got home and when you did too. Mostly because I've gotten nothing done around here and because my body is such a mess right now. I didn't mean to be bitchy. I just needed to get passed feeling worn out.”

“I can do a lot of the cleaning and stuff when I have time..” He felt bad that she even felt obligated to do it all, though he often got home and just wanted to relax and fall asleep. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“You do a lot of it. I guess I just haven't felt like doing anything. I didn't even want to snuggle Oliver when I got home.” Rachel sighed. “I've just been struggling a lot with this whole procedure. I don't know how it is for guys but… as a woman, it's just hard to not feel gross when things ‘down there’ are weird.”

Finn really hadn’t considered that part of things. “I guess I get that. I’m sorry that it’s been such a struggle. I hope you get back to feeling like yourself again soon.”

“I will. It's just tough right now because I'm limited. And I didn't want it to affect us in the ways it seems to.”

“I think it’s kind of inevitable for something that affects you to affect me and us.” He shrugged.

“I know. But I thought I'd deal with it a little better. Like, I didn't expect to be so tired and moody in all of this. And I definitely didn't think I would feel like my body was just a huge trash pile or that I was a bad wife for letting housework fall behind. I've never been the kind of girl who thought that wives and husbands had ‘roles,’ so it's been strange realizing that it means something that I can cook you dinner or make your lunch. I like being able to do things like that for you and it felt like a fail for me when I watched you eating frozen pizza because I was too lazy.”

“I don’t expect to come home to dinner being made or any of that. It is nice though.. I guess I do kind of miss it. It doesn’t make you a bad wife and it’s not a fail though. I’m grown, I can make my own meals.”

Rachel knew he expected very little of her in the way of ‘wifely things.’ It was part of the reason she loved him - he just wanted her as she was. “You can. And sometimes you do. Sometimes, you cook for me too. We operate on a different level than a lot of married couples because no one has to do anything specific. We just do for each other.”

“We do.” He gave her a small smile. “So.. We’re good then? Everything is normal.”

“Well, not everything. Because our normal would mean I'd be naked right now. But we're not quite there yet.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, loving his smile too much to stop herself. “We're good though. Even if you may have to go commando tomorrow.”

“How long do you think we have on that?” He asked her as casually as he could when it came to the matter of sex. “I could do that thing where you just turn your dirty underwear inside out…” He said playfully.

“Don't do that. It sounds gross.” She nudged him, then bit her lip. “It could be another week or two. The doctor said to wait until I felt comfortable physically. Things are still kind of tender when I checked this morning in the tub.” She didn't want to stall the improved mood between them but she had to be honest. “It's just as problematic physically as it is mentally right now.”

He nodded his head “I mean, we could wait a little longer than that. I don’t want to like.. Make it come back or irritate it more. I don’t know.” He scrunched his nose.

“According to the doctor, this procedure should have made so it wouldn’t come back and I doubt sex with you would make that happen. You’re good, baby, but I think causing physical ailments is even beyond your skills.” She smiled and gave him a kiss. “Let’s agree to play it by ear and do what feels right. If we become intimate and I’m not comfortable, I know I can say so and things will be fine. Just like they’ve always been.”

“Okay.. We’ll try it whenever you’re ready. I miss it.. A lot.”

“You may be surprised to hear it but I do too. More than I ever thought I would. You seem to have that effect on me.”

“I feel like we fight less when we are having sex..” He teased.

Rachel laughed, noting the truth in his words. “That’s because our mouths are busy with other things and we’re usually too tired after having sex to argue.”

“You’re probably right about that. I kind of feel like we just connect better though too.” He shrugged.

Rachel gave him a thoughtful looking, knowing he was right to some degree but constantly wondering why. “Well, it’s one of those things that’s really intimate and maybe we just connect the best that way because no one has their guard up when we’re like that. That’s not to say either of us does any other time but… maybe it’s just that we don’t have to think about sex. Or overthink it, in some cases.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He gave her a small smile. “Either way, I wish we could fast forward to when we can start being together again.”

“Me too. Because I want to be with you but also…” Rachel looked down, embarrassed to be admitting something like this. “It's another thing that makes me feel like I'm falling short as a wife. Like, I like making you happy and sex does that. It's hard when I can't make you happy.”

“Other things make me happy too… It’s not just sex.” He shrugged.

“Very true. As long as I make you happy, sex or not, that's what counts.”

“You do. I’m sorry if it seems otherwise.. I think things have just been a little stressful here.”

“It doesn't seem otherwise. I just like hearing you say it. Because I'm spoiled.” Her lips were on his again. “I wish I could make it less stressful for us both.”

“I wish we were in high school again and had entire summers off from life.” He said with a small laugh.

“I miss that too. Life seemed a little easier back then.” Taking a chance, Rachel settled close to him, her head on his shoulder. “But this isn't so bad, right?” It was more bills, and they definitely had to navigate situations that weren't as easily resolved. Rachel liked to see the long term outcome, though. They were building a life together and that was more than worth it.

“It’s not terrible, I just miss sleep and not stressing out about money. I never thought there would be a day where I would be considering turning down a day off from work.”

“It is novel, isn't it? At least you've found a career that makes you feel accomplished. You don't have to hate going to work on top if everything else.”

“That is true. I do like what I am doing and it makes the day go by so much easier.” He said with a nod.

Rachel wished she could say the same. “That makes me so happy for you.”

“You’ll be doing it too, soon. Living up the Broadway dream.”

Rachel smiled at him. “True. But in this version, I'll have my husband sitting in the front row of my shows.”

“All of them.” He grinned at the thought of watching her on stage. “You’ll be amazing.”

Considering how the night had started, most couples would never have gotten to the place Rachel felt like they were in.  But no one could ever be as in love with someone as she was with Finn. As unrealistic as it seemed, it's what Rachel believed. “The fact that you believe in me is worth everything. You already knew that, though.”

“You’ve always believed in me for like no reason at all, so of course I give you the same support.” He gave her a kiss.

“Not for no reason.” Her fingers traced the contours of his chest as she gave him an adoring smile. “You’re smart and strong. Talented. I knew you could do anything you wanted. That’s plenty of reason.”

“Well, I think you’re crazy for seeing all of that but I’m glad you do.” He said with a small laugh.

“First of all, you should never call a woman crazy. I don’t know who made the rule but it’s a big one.” Rachel gave him a kiss, a signal that she was teasing. “Second of all, I’m crazy about you. Is that the same thing?”

“Hmm.. I’ll take it.” He said with a grin. “I’m pretty crazy about you too.”

“The way you lavish me with compliments, I couldn’t tell.” Sighing, she laid to rest against him again. “This is kind of nice, you know? Just laying here and feeling like a couple.” In truth, it was really all she’d wanted.

“It is nice. I really enjoy our nights when they are like this.” He ran his hand along her side.

“It's calming, somehow. Like this the place where we should be. Just… together.” Rachel stopped, knowing she was beginning to sound a little disjointed.

He turned his head to give her another kiss “We are meant to just be together.”

Rachel's arm moved around him and she held close as they kissed. “I like the sound of that. Very much so.”

“Good, cause at this point I’m not letting you leave.” He teased.

“Why would I want to? You're warm and comfy. Don't tell Oliver, but I still like you cuddles best.”

“I was here first so I better be the first choice.” He joked.

“You'll always be my first choice.” Even if they had children, or more pets, Rachel knew that her heart would forever be Finn's above all else.

“Good. Cause you’re mine. I mean, I know I don’t cuddle with the cat all that often, but if I did you’d still be my first choice.”

“Much like you, I think the cat is partial to me. I'll take being your first choice regardless.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t want much to do with me.” he said with a laugh.

“He's just use to me. When I was home after my procedure, he'd come snuggle up on the couch with me. He likes you too. He's spent the most time with me. That's all.”

“That’s okay. I know animals sometimes attach to one person. We got him for you anyways.”

“I know. But I want him to love you too. Maybe just pick him up to cuddle some time. I know it's not quite me but he'll probably like the attention.”

“I.. Okay.” He said with a laugh. He didn’t have too much interest in the cat but if it were important to Rachel, he would try to bond with him.

Rachel gave him a kiss for the effort he was going to make. “Just once or twice and if it doesn't work out, I won't push. I promise.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” he said with a nod. “It’s okay either way.”

“It is. It also furthers every point I make about you being the best. None of my other husbands would do that for me.” Rachel winked as she tucked her grin away against his shoulder.

“Well I gotta weed out the competition, ya know?” he joked.

“You do a splendid job of it, especially considering you’re the one I come home to every night.”

“Good. Those other husbands can sleep alone.”

“They’ll have to. I only like sleeping with you anyway.” Rachel touched her lips to his.

He kissed her back, his eyes closing. “Honestly,  even these fake husbands are making me jealous. “ he joked.

Rachel watched as his eyes close, Finn looking the most relaxed he’d been since he got home. “I wouldn’t be jealous if I were you. Especially since I like you best. But, if I must, I will keep only you as my husband. The others will have to go.”

“Good. Erase them. “ he laughed softly. “You're goofy.”

“So are you. But it makes love a little more fun that way.” Rachel turned her head to yawn, trying not to give herself away just yet. “And sometimes we need fun in our lives.”

“We also need sleep..” He joked lightly.

“I know, but all this lovey stuff has been nice. I miss the mushiness.”

“I do too. We just have our moments, I’m sure things are back to normal again.”

“If you say something really romantic to me right now, I promise to go to sleep.”

“That’s too much pressure and I will fail.” He joked.

Rachel stuck her lip out in a pout. “Okay, okay. I guess I'll have to settle for sleep without wooing first.”

“You can go to sleep knowing I love you a lot.” He kissed her pouted lips.

Rachel couldn't help but smile as he kissed her, a giddy feeling fluttering in her chest. “I love you just as much.”

“Then I can fall asleep happy too.” he smiled before pulling away to rest his head against the pillow. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Sleep tight.” Rachel turned comfortably onto her back and fell asleep as soon as her eyes were closed again.

[jonasmaurer]

Keeping the house clean with two kiddos running around

The secret: I don’t! The end. Muahah. (<— it would be so nice to say, “Bye, chores)

I’m just kidding… keeping the house clean (or at least presentable) is something that’s important to me, and I work pretty hard to keep things tidy around here. I read all of the memes about how laundry will wait and the kids will only be little once, and truth is that I can’t relax and enjoy life when things are in shambles around me. I don’t spend a crazy amount of time cleaning, but just like fitness, or eating well, it’s a type of self care. I feel good when my surroundings are clutter-free and cleaned up a bit. 

I got this request for a blog post a couple of weeks ago and thought it would be a fun one to discuss here on the blog. To be honest, it can be tricky to keep the house clean with little ones running around, but I’ve found that doing a little bit every day and outsourcing for help makes a huge difference.

Here are some of my tips for keeping the house clean with two kids:

– I stick to a cleaning schedule and do laundry every.single.day. Every day, I clean the kitchen (usually twice; once after breakfast and after dinner) by wiping down the countertops, appliances, stove, dining table, and switching out the dishes (usually just do this in the morning). In addition to that, I wash and fold one load of laundry. If I do one load a day, it keeps things from getting ridiculous but sometimes I slack on this. I make the beds each day, wipe down bathroom countertops, and run the euphy. Besides the usual daily chores, I’ll have one bigger things I work on each day: floors, bathrooms, wood floors upstairs, wash bedding, dust, etc. If I only do one of these each day, it’s only an extra 20 minutes or so and makes it much easier to maintain.

  (Click here to download a PDF printable)

– We have an AMAZING housekeeper who comes every two weeks for a deep clean. She is a real-life angel and does all of the nitty gritty deep cleaning, in addition to washing the bedding and making the house sparkle. We’ve had a bi-monthly cleaner for years now and it’s a non-neogiable in our budget. Otherwise, I feel like I’d never catch up on cleaning stuff. If she could eventually come once a week, that would be a dream come true.

– I clean while the kids are home. This will probably change in the fall since P’s school day will be a little longer, but for now, I work and work out when they’re at camp and then when they’re home chilling afterwards, I clean for a bit. I think it’s good for them to see me working to keep the house beautiful and often, they’ll want to help. They’re excellent at separating laundry into piles, folding towels, and emptying the dishwasher. We tidy up a little, and then we play!

– I focus on priorities. If I get too swamped with work stuff, or get behind on cleaning because the Pilot is out of town, I focus on the important tasks. For me, that’s having an empty sink (no dirty dishes lingering around) and a clean downstairs. If there’s a pile of laundry on our chair upstairs, it doesn’t bother me, but for some reason, having a lot of clutter or feeling crumbs under my feet when I walk makes me feel stressed out. 

– The eufy. I rarely have to manually vacuum because of this little wonder. I run it every single day downstairs, and only have to use our cordless vacuum every couple of days to get Caroline hairs off the couch.

Some of my favorite cleaning products/hacks:

– Use a Swiffer with a cleaning cloth attached to it instead of the Swiffer pads. I’ll use the Method spray and mop liquid on the floors and then wipe down with the Swiffer. Another awesome floor cleaner: dish soap mixed with water, then rinse with water. It gets all of the grime and makes floors super sparkly! (For our wood floors, I use the Method wood floor cleaner.)

– Method is my all-time favorite cleaning brand, and I also buy this castille soap, baking soda, and a huge tub of vinegar. I recently ordered some products from Branch Basics and will report back in a Friday Faves post if I love them!

– Homemade multi-purpose cleaner: water, vinegar, castille soap, and a few drops of lavender. It smells beautiful and makes a great multipurpose cleaner.

– Essential oils to keep things smelling lovely. I love using our oil diffuser upstairs and will usually use a mix of lavender and lemon. 

– Resuable cloths. I bought some Norwex, but to be honest, they’re not my favorites. I love these ones from Amazon and always have a couple of clean ones stashed under each sink for washing countertops, the wood table, dusting, and windows.

– I wipe down the couch with a wet washcloth (warm water). It helps to keep it clean and gets any stray dog hairs after I’ve vacuumed the cushions.

– Only touch things once. Don’t move one pile of things to another pile somewhere else. If I’m going to touch anything to move it, it’s to put it completely away where it belongs. Don’t waste energy just moving things around!

– Baking soda is a MIRACLE. If our sink looks a little gross, I’ll add baking soda, make a paste with water, scrub, and it shines. It’s also great for cleaning bathroom tile and tubs.

So friends: drop all of your cleaning hacks on me! How do you keep things tidy with kiddos or pets? Any products you particularly love?

xo

Gina

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[3one3]

The Sequel - 891

Unannounced

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Whooooo waaaantssss Lifesavers! They’re not actually Lifesavers but they look like Lifesavers.”

“Don’t pump them full of sugar.”

“One little candy is hardly going to fill the 1200lb animals with sugar.”

Dirk snorted loudly and pawed at the mat underfoot to let his human know that he was the one deserving of the hard candy, not Socks. His smaller shadow on the adjacent set of crossties made his eyes big and interested, and his ears pointed uniformly at the girl with the sweets. They both went crazy for the sound of a crinkling plastic wrapper, and she knew it. She knew she could tease them. One was tacked up and ready to school, and the other was getting cleaned up to go next. It was an all hands on deck kind of morning at the barn. Stefanie was already hacking Dezy outside. Kyle was readying Julian for her in the wash stall. Isandro was finishing up the stall cleaning and had buckets to scrub and fill. Even Lukas was “working”. Espen supervised while he filled the big muck tubs with hot water to soak the beet pulp.

“One for Weltmeister,” Christina narrated while Dirk gobbled up a candy from her palm. Socks was more polite about waiting, so he got his second. Dirk would have ripped the crossties from the walls if he had to wait too long. “And one for Sexy Socks. Nomnomnom. You got cherry, I think. Do you like cherry?” The petit Dutch stallion nodded his head emphatically because it was his natural reaction to a sweet surprise, not because he was actually answering her question.

“Let’s go,” Tom encouraged as he put his currycomb down inside a cabinet of grooming supplies and grabbed Dirk’s bridle off the hanging hook. Christina chucked the candy wrappers and pulled her leather and crocheted cotton gloves from the pocket of her technical fleece zip-up hoody. It was pretty cold out but she was not yet ready to concede to the season and ride in a real jacket. The adidas sweatshirt was pretty windproof and would hold in the body heat generated through exercise. She put a woolly hat on to try to keep any of it from escaping from her head. It actually took less time for the groom to put the bridle on the horse and unbuckle and feed the snaffle reins through the rings for the running martingale than it took for the rider to get her gloves on, pull up her pants, put her side-braid where she wanted it, zip her phone into her jacket pocket, and secure her short crop inside the back of her belt. Tom got about two steps out of the grooming stall with Dirk in his burgundy cooler when the intercom buzzed throughout the stable. There was one next to the brush cabinet, with the light switches, one in the tack room, one in Christina’s office, one outside the door to the feed room, and one in the lounge.

“I got it,” Christina assured so that Tom would keep walking Dirk out the back. She went and pushed the button to find out who was at her gate. “Good morning, Crazy Al’s Hubcaps, Susan speaking, how can I help you?” she asked in a voice she thought was exactly like the secretary in the original Ghostbusters films. A very familiar but unexpected voice crackled over the speaker.

“Hola, cariña. How did you know it’s me? Do you have cameras out here?”

“Juan?”

“You didn’t know? You always answer that way?” He sounded just as surprised.

“Sometimes. What are you doing here?” she asked him, borderline incredulous. Her surprise was overwhelming the rest of the reactive feelings.

“Let me in and I’ll explain,” the Chelsea man laughed. His girlfriend pushed the smaller button on the receiver to open the sliding gate. Her whole schedule for the day was interdependent and designed to get her to Signal Iduna Park in time to have dinner before kickoff, showered and nicely dressed. There was no time to stand around, so she let Tom throw her up on Dirk and told him to send Juan down to the field. He was frowny and disapproving despite her insistence that the player’s arrival was totally unplanned and she had no idea he was coming. Juan got down there before she had a chance to take her cooler off, and since she was riding in the grass he just walked alongside her while she let the Holsteiner begin to loosen up for his workout.

“So you just woke up and thought, “Hey, you know what would be great? Getting right back on a plane!”” Christina joked after he explained that he had the day off and roundtrip same day flights were just a couple of hundred pounds. He rented a cheap car at the airport and was going to drive it to Düsseldorf for his return flight later.

“Yes, basically,” he smiled up at her. That smile made her forget how inconvenienced she felt a moment earlier when she thought she would have to change all of her plans. His beard was trimmed and tidy, and he had a heavy-duty beanie on like she did, and a hooded sweatshirt on inside a cozy looking varsity jacket. All of that made a nice backdrop for the happy grin and the crystal clear blue eyes that could have reasonably been pretty red from his very late flight home from Rome. The smile fixed everything because it was proof that just seeing her could make Juan so happy. He had a bad night and then a day off and his solution for both was to go find the person who would help him move on from the terrible game. Also, he came dressed to spend time outside. He wasn’t going to ask her to abandon her schedule and entertain him. A subtle pull on Dirks reins brought the animal to a stop, and his rider leaned the long way down to kiss her surprise visitor. Stefanie, who went through the whole hey-what-are-you-doing-here-thing too, couldn’t see thanks to Dirk’s neck.

“How long are you here?”

“I think Google says if I leave at 6 I’ll make my flight.”

“I hope you’re ready to watch a lot of horses going in circles.”

“I am. I brought a book too. But I wouldn’t mind if I watched them go in circles in the indoor riding ring.” The Spaniard rubbed his hands together and then reached out to pet Dirk’s shiny neck.

“After this one, maybe,” Christina winked. “And I do have time to have lunch with you, and to hang out when I’m done with the ponies. I was going to prep a bunch of food for Luke but I can do it tomorrow.”

“Great. Show me how the Olympic champion horse is feeling after his holidays!” Juan took the wool blanket with him to the gazebo to watch, and his girlfriend got to work. A late fall morning school on a game horse was usually pretty good, especially on the grass. She elected not to have Tom put studs in Dirk’s shoes since she didn’t plan any big time jumping or fast turns or the like. It was a good opportunity to give the horse a chance to work on his natural balance. There was just a handful of fences out there, leftover from the big course used the week before. Christina would get to those eventually. She began with forward flatwork, asking her black horse to stretch out and lengthen not just his stride but also his spine. He was naturally very upright, and used to going around in a lovely, tight frame. It was important to work longer and lower too, with his neck round but closer to level with his back, nose poked out. Some less well put together, less fit animals struggled to maintain a long stride under a long neck, so to speak. Lowering their head would load up the front end and make it difficult to stretch with the front legs, no matter how good the push from the hind ones. Horses with a lot of knee action, in particular, struggle with it. Hunter-type horses, like Socks and Navarra, specialize in that movement. They naturally have a beautiful, long trot and easy, balanced canter with a long and low head/neck carriage. Dirk didn’t move quite so pretty, so he wouldn’t win a hack class in the big hunters in the United States, but he had the strength and elasticity to carry himself that way and move off with energy and looseness, and with control and balance despite Christina’s lack of contact with his mouth. She looped the reins at him and posted tall with his big step. He shook his head around at one point and got some of his mane stuck up behind his left ear.

Christina even let him canter around like that for a bit before collecting his stride and feeling more of his mouth in her hands. A long, low canter stride on the grass sounded nicer than a more collected one. It reminded her of being in a big show ring with a fancy hunter back home stateside. Sometimes she really missed her former show career. There was a different kind of satisfaction and sense of accomplishment in putting in a round that impressed subjective judges. You have to do more than just get around to get a win, and in top classes you need to do more than get around correctly and pleasingly. The horse has to offer something special, be it brilliance of character, exceptional form over fences, remarkable ease and consistency of going, or some other X-factor that speaks to the judge or judges more than all the other entries. Christina was feeling it on Wednesday and couldn’t bring herself to sit deep in the tack and hem her brilliant mount into the package and shape from which they did most of their competitive work. Finding jumps on light contact and that long, relaxed stride was actually a unique challenge for her with him, so it was a fun thing to work on and experiment with that morning. It made things more interesting for Juan too. He got to laugh at her when she messed up.

“What was that?” he called to her when Dirk took off for a 3’ vertical from half a stride before the natural spot. It caught his friend off-guard and she was thrown backwards in the saddle a little, behind the motion. “I think you gave him too much time off!”

“That’s called the Superman distance,” Stefanie laughed. She was stopped at the gazebo to toss Julian’s cooler over the railing. “They have to put the feet out in front like Superman when he flies.”

“Dirk wanted to be a hunter for Halloween. He’s not very convincing,” her coach shrugged. A check of the time on her wrist reminded her that she unfortunately didn’t have a lot of time to play around. She did the same jump again, with the same approach, to prove that they could do it correctly. Then they did some more conventional, useful exercises, heavy on the careful, balanced turns and pretty light on the jumping.

Tom brought Socks down after about 35 minutes, helped the boss switch, and stopped at one of the paddocks on the way back up to the barn to grab Rio, who would be Christina’s next ride. Kyle switched Julian for Jelly Bean for Stefanie shortly after that, and that was just how it went for a while. The guys kept the girls in horses, and everyone did their usual job. There was a break for lunch after each girl schooled four horses. Juan was in luck. There were several days’ worth of lunch-portioned beef and barley soup containers in the refrigerator. It was homemade, with shredded carrots and potatoes for an almost stew-like texture. Christina microwaved two and cut some slices of slightly stale sourdough baguette to have with it. Espen took Lukas up to the house for lunch a little earlier, but he was still a primary topic of discussion over lunch in the lounge.

“I feel like I should start teaching him Spanish so he can talk to her,” Christina commented, referring to Gala Bartra. “I don’t know if she’s learning German or not. Luke’s German isn’t very good, and he doesn’t like learning it because he gets confused. He doesn’t understand why we’re trying to tell him the thing he’s been told over and over is called bread is now also called Brot. I didn’t start learning Spanish until I was in kindergarten.”

“If he’s having trouble with the German, what makes you think he’d do any better with Spanish?” the native Spanish speaker questioned.

“It’s so much easier, and I learned it formally so I have a better idea of how to teach him. All my German I just picked up one way or another. I never studied it. It also makes no sense!”

“He’ll probably forget Marc’s daughter exists in a month anyway, no?”

“Maybe. Maybe she’ll be the love of his life and he’ll fly to other countries to watch her work and have lunch with her when he’s in a bad mood and wants to be happy.”

“I hope he meets a girl like that someday.”

“Me too.” Christina smiled around the spoon in her mouth and sat back from the black-brown wood table to take a little break. The hot soup made her nose run, and it was pretty substantial and filling. “Did you want to talk about the game or no?”

“No. I want to forget about it for today. It’s good to have a day to leave it to the side, and come back fresh tomorrow to go back to work. Otherwise you carry the bad feeling into the preparation for the next one. I don’t think that helps.” The Chelsea midfielder kept eating. It made the tall part of his hat bounce around atop his head and reminded his friend of the gnomes from the kids’ TV show, with the pointy hats. He’d be such a good gnome! He’s tiny, and fuzzy, and he likes animals and helping people. As far as I know, all the gnomes ever did was be tiny and cute and help and like, stuff with the fox.

“Well I’m sure you’ve had enough of talking about Luke, so let’s talk about Doha instead. There is a big party after the Final on Saturday so you need something nice to wear.”

“Like a suit and tie, or just something nicer than what I’m wearing today?”

“Whatever you wore when you hung out with Jenni would be fine, I’m sure,” Christina taunted, smirking.

“Is there anything Wednesday and Thursday night?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Kygo is doing a show at a night club the second night. Maybe we have dinner with him Wednesday and go check it out? It doesn’t have to be set in stone. I mention it in case it affects your packing.”

“I’m down. Do you call him by whatever his real name is? I’m gonna feel stupid when I want to ask him a question and have to say “Kygo”.”

“It’s Kyrre.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“I’m gonna ride Kimchi inside but I have to do Kyle’s lesson outside.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Kimi liked doing the short gymnastic exercise in the indoor, and Juan made himself useful by adjusting the four fences for Christina. They needed to go up a few times, and the oxers had to be pushed out, which meant some jumps had to be moved back, and she wanted the ground lines changed around all the time. He followed instructions better than André did in that capacity. She let him loiter around in the dirt ring outside while she worked with Kyle on Cartagena’s fickle nature in front of the fences. Sometimes he pulled all the way. Sometimes he got straight to the jump and then sucked back, hesitating until the pilot told him he had to do it. Other times he just maintained pace and energy, or moved up or back according to what he was specifically asked for. He did that last thing more often with Christina than with Kyle, so they were trying to pinpoint what he did differently that prompted the horse’s inconsistency. Doing that required creating all different kinds of jumping questions to try to evoke the unwanted behavior, like a long gallop up to a tall vertical or wide oxer, a short approach off a tight turn, angled takeoffs, blind corners, related distances, etc. Then they tried to recreate the same situation over and over when they found one that caused him to hesitate. It was repetitive and boring, so they gave Cartagena lots of breaks.

“What’s after this, cariña?” Juan inquired when the trainer meandered behind the rolltop, the back side of which he was sitting on. She stopped right in front of him to twist and stretch her back, and then plopped on his lap to answer the question.

“After this I’m finished out here. I have a couple of hours before I need to get dressed for the game,” she yawned. His hands were cold through the fairly thin fabric of her breeches on her hips, and his breath was warm near the ear not protected by her hair and not fully covered by her hat. His voice and his gum chewing in her ear was even more warming. It’s not fair that he lives far away, she rued. He’s better in person.

“Is that your relax on the sofa time, or playing with Lukas time?”

“It was supposed to be make Lukas lunches time but I kind of want it to be play with Juanin time,” Christina decided aloud. She leaned forward, bending in half almost, to needlessly adjust the buckle on one of her spurs. The point was simply to bend over with her shapely butt in tight pants on his lap. His thumbs pushed into the widest part of that shapely butt, where they naturally landed from his hands’ position on her hips. The touch felt entirely familiar.

“I kind of hoped you’d say that,” the player replied calmly. She slowly sat back up and leaned against him until his face was next to hers. Then she shouted down to the other end of the ring to tell Kyle to do the blue and green oxer on the left lead again, with a counter-bend.

“How does it feel to fly to another country for the afternoon for some ass?” she added more quietly.

“So far, quite nice.” He let go of her sides and wedged his fingers between them to kind of claw at her butt cheeks in a wildly tickling fashion. “It’s a fantastic ass,” he laughed as his girl squirmed.

“Hate you,” she grumbled back, struggling to get up. Kyle was about to try the jump again.

“Go do your work! You’re the worst trainer. Is he paying for this?”

Christina lifted her sweatshirt above her belt and shook her behind at him, as if that were some sort of taunting response and not a reward, and marched away to in fact do some work. It took another 10 minutes to get to a satisfying conclusion for horse and rider. Kyle was a talker in the tack. He liked to debrief after his ride, while walking the horse out, so she had to spend another 10 minutes rehashing everything they learned and hearing how he felt about all of it. That wasn’t her favorite. It was how he learned though, so she indulged him when needed. She then hurried through putting her sneakers on and dropping a molasses treat in every feed bucket- a nice surprise for all the horses when they came in for the day. Juan drove her over to the house since his rental was at the barn anyway. Explaining his presence to Espen was an exercise in creative storytelling. Lukas was napping though, so his mom didn’t have to feel guilty about playing with someone else instead. Explaining why she and Juan were going upstairs for a while was even more difficult. The excuse Christina went with was her need to soak her ankles in ice water in the bathtub. The Spaniard was going to keep her company.

She did actually go straight to the bathroom, but only to change, liberally spray dry shampoo on her roots, freshen all places that sweated during riding, and make sure there was no dirt under her fingernails. Juan hated that. She emerged in just a clean t-shirt and literally ran across her bedroom to jump backwards into bed. Her friend was sitting on it fully clothed.

“Fantastic ass, reporting for duty.”

“Ass duty, hm? I think we have different definitions of that, baby girl,” he told the rider moving onto all fours next to him. She leaned in for a smooch and then frowned at him.

“Even if I wanted you to do what you want to do, you couldn’t today, because I have a tear in...a sensitive place,” she laughed, wide eyed, before pulling her bottom lip under her front teeth. The footballer looked aghast.

“You didn’t- Did you let him...“

“Absolutely not. Don’t worry. If for any reason I ever change my mind about butt sex, you’re my guy.” Christina patted his chest and sunk down on her side with her legs curled up. You know you’re 100% in a real relationship when you tell him about your anal fissure, she mused, half regretting the decision to bring up her problem at all, and half proud of feeling comfortable enough to do so. WHY DOES HE LOOK SO GOOD TODAY? He’s not supposed to look so hot when he’s supposed to be feeling down about his stupid malfunctioning football team. I never look pretty or shining when I’m miserable or angry about a result. Jeeealousss.

“I guess I’ll always have your anal sex virginity to look forward to.”

“Ew.”

“If I win a major trophy this season, like the Premier League or the Champions League, not the league cup or something, can that be my reward? My special gift?”

“No.”

“Oh! I just remembered. I want to see the Ferrari!”

“Then hurry up and take your clothes off and maybe I’ll have time to take you for a ride.”

“I have three hours. How many times do you think we’re going to fuck?” Juan half-laughed in an almost-whisper while Christina crawled into his lap and brought her face very near to his. His head dropped back against the tufted headboard and his chin lifted, his grin pointed more toward the ceiling than the underwear-free Olympic champion making herself at home. She lifted up on her knees to be able to get her lips on his from above, hands spread across either side of his neck.

“As many as it takes,” she shot back about one full second after his tongue attempted to get into the kiss. I don’t even know what that means. Why does my brain get so foggy when his face fuzz is on point? His hands clasped her butt, and then her butt was back on his brain.

“What did you do to tear your...whatever?” he asked with innocent sounding curiosity.

“I’m not telling you, but I promise it wasn’t a giant dildo or something.”

“How...severe is it?”

“Tiny.”

“It’s strange that you even mentioned it. I thought you did because you were going to tell me you were experimenting for me.” Juan tilted his head a few degrees to the side and looked at her with a mix of honest confusion and a sort of tentativeness that read as distaste, like he wished she never told him there was damage to a place to which he’d been working for years to gain access. She frowned at him and sunk down onto her heels, hands on his shoulders.

“Okay I’m gonna say something and I don’t want you to freak out, or make a big deal out-“

“Oh wow, was it one of the horses’-“

“Juanin!” He got swatted upside the head for the gross joke he managed to deliver completely deadpan.

“What do you want to say? If it’s not a horse cock, I probably will not freak out,” he assured with a warm grin and out-of-nowhere charming wink. Christina took a deep breath. The burst of confidence she had before his teasing had dissolved already, and she wasn’t sure she still wanted to tell him what she was going to say. Then she decided she was making too big a deal out it.

“I told you because- Well, I don’t know exactly why I told you, but I know how I could tell you. Juanin this is the kind of thing you have to hear about when you’re married. That’s what marriage is like,” the rider explained apologetically. She felt she was delivering a hard truth. Her somewhat sad eyes and inability to keep them fixed on any single part of his face matched that sentiment. “You share everything. Eeeeeverything. Even...anal fissures.” Her right hand nervously chose scratching behind her ear as the outlet for the anxiety amassed over her chosen explanation. This is how I feel with him now. He’s not even like a boyfriend anymore. I don’t tell boyfriends icky things. I wouldn’t even ask a boyfriend to bring me toilet paper, I don’t think. I’ve always thought of Juanin as like...He’s....I mean, I’ve been as close to him as I am with Schü for a long, long time, and I’m vulnerable with him in ways I’d never be with any past boyfriend, but there was something different. I still thought of him like a boyfriend you want to impress all the time and hide your gross personal hygiene issues from, and never poop in his presence- stuff like that. I guess there are probably girls who still hide that stuff from their husbands, and I know plenty of girls who don’t hide them from boyfriends, but that’s not how I am. I’m not afraid of him knowing that stuff now. I’m just...not. “I know it’s not sexy to be that comfortable with someone. It kinda ruins some of the allure. But I want that kind of relationship with you. I think we already have it, really. So just so you know, if you’re right and we’re gonna grow old together, you’re going to have to hear about stuff like that, and- Actually, get ready to be a part of it. Get ready for me to come to you with a wad of slightly bloody toilet paper and ask you to look up my butt and tell me if it’s my skin that’s bleeding or if it came from inside and I need to go to the doctor because my kidney is failing or something.”

“Baby girl, have I ever in my life given the impression that I don’t want exactly that kind of relationship?”

“No? Well actually kinda just now when you looked at me, like, all disgusted that I told you about my butt even though it wasn’t some sexy ass-play accident.”

“I wasn’t disgusted. I just couldn’t imagine how you managed to hurt yourself there.”

“Oh. K.”

“I’m in for everything. I told you I want everything with you. And anyway, I don’t think I would lick a woman’s asshole without also being willing to check it for damage.”

“Good.” Christina smiled, lips closed, and inadvertently rubbed her palm over the midfielder’s heart. She didn’t know she was doing it. Her hand just slid down from where it had been atop his shoulder. He had muscle there that was naturally more rounded and prominent than André’s chest, and she liked to push on it and rub it. It was nice for her cheek too. She was preoccupied thinking about how weirdly exciting it was to hear that Juan was interested in a no-boundaries relationship. It reminded her of the way she felt when he first told her he wanted “everything” with her. He wasn’t ad-libbing that, or paraphrasing. He really had told her that before. He told her on the beach in Nice during the Euros that he wanted everything with her, and then she stood on his feet and kissed him, and told him to take her back to his hotel, where they changed everything forever.

“Did you just propose to me?” he smirked back. The smirk leaned more toward a grin, really, but with knowing and mischief.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It sounded like you were pre-proposing, at least,” he shrugged before sitting forward to get closer. “Testing the waters,” he whispered just before purposefully pushing his barely-open mouth into the side of her neck.