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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian teacher x you #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x smut

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shyvioletcat · 4 years ago

Note

this prompt seems made for fireman whitethorn and aelin: “Sitting on the doorstep in the cold, waiting for their S/O to come home from working on christmas day (emergency services?) and hugging them for so long whilst whispering ‘merry christmas’ into their neck and kissing any inch of skin they can reach.” 😭❤️

Here it is! The last one, getting it in on the last day of December with day 5 of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. And it’s another baby’s first Christmas thing but I’m not even mad about it. I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable holiday season, considering everything. Thanks for reading guys, sending hugs to everyone. Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin sat on the swinging bench on the front porch of her home. It was bitingly cold, almost freezing, to try and keep it out she rearranged her fluffy scarf and hugged her mug of hot chocolate tighter. If she were sensible, she would be inside in front of the gas fireplace or even better in bed. But instead she was outside in the cold, waiting for her husband to get home.

Rowan was coming off a night shift and she was waiting for him, too excited and desperate to see him to do anything else. They had been stressing that his roster would have him working for the entirety of Yulemas Day and they were both heartbroken at the prospect. This Yulemas was not just the first in their new home, but it was also their first as a family of three. So when the roster had arrived, showing that his team would be on the night shift during the holidays, Aelin had just about jumped for joy. She had a sneaking suspicion that Lorcan may have had a hand in Yulemas miracle so his present had been particularly good this year as a very heartfelt thank you. Aelin sighed, the cold air biting at her lungs, holding her mug in one hand she reached down for the baby monitor that sat on the bench beside her and held it up to her ear. The only sound she heard was the hum of the feedback, Elspeth was still asleep.

It was then she heard an all too familiar vehicle approaching and Aelin put everything down, her face splitting into an unstoppable grin. Rowan pulled into the driveway and parked his truck, Aelin could see his smile through the window and the shaking of his head. Her knee began to bounce with excitement as Rowan got out of the car and she didn’t let him get much further before she was up and bounding down the steps, throwing herself into her husband’s waiting arms. She felt him breathe her in, his face burying in the scarf around her neck. Then he was kissing her, anywhere her skin was the least bit exposed. That set her giggling as his lips tickled her cheeks, her nose, her earlobe that peeked out beneath her beanie.

“Happy Yulemas,” Aelin whispered into his neck.

Rowan finally pulled back then. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin.” Then he kissed her lips. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing, love.”

Rowan put her down and Aelin shrugged, tucking herself in close as they walked to their front door. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“What about Elsie?” Rowan asked, a gentle expression on his face that only appeared when talking about his daughter.

Aelin left the warmth of Rowan’s side to grab the baby monitor and she smiled as she heard soft babbling coming from it. “Looks like she just woke up.”

The two of them bustled inside, shedding layers and hanging them up on the coat rack.

“You go get her,” Aelin said as she unwound her scarf. “I’ll get you a tea.”

Rowa just nodded and headed upstairs while Aelin headed to the kitchen, prepping the tea and the pasties she had bought especially for breakfast today, and some puréed apple for the baby in a fancy little squeezy tube with a spoon on the end. By the time she had put the teabag in Rowan’s mug they two of them arrived in the kitchen. Rowan was whispering to his daughter, her hands on his face, dressed in her festive pyjamas covered in little cartoon reindeer. The sight made Aelin’s chest feel all fuzzy and she walked over.

“Happy Yulemas, my darling,” Aelin said as she kissed Elspeth’s chubby cheeks, earning the mother a smile. “Food or presents first?”

“Food,” Rowan said, depositing Elspeth in her high chair. He pulled it closer to him so he could feed her while he drank his tea and ate as well.

Aelin just watched them together, twin green eyes watching each other. She managed to eat two chocolate croissants by the time the other two were done, and started on a third while Rowan started the clean up. When that was done he picked up Elsie, kissing her cheek like he just couldn’t help it.

“Coming?” He asked wryly when Aelin didn’t move, too busy watching them.

“Yes, yes,” Aelin said, abandoning her croissant. For now.

A large Yulemas tree was set up in the corner of the living room, decorated to perfection and wrapped presents underneath it. Rowan sat on the floor beside it, putting Elsie down to let her roam free. She had nearly perfected crawling at 8 months old, Aelin put it down to her determination to follow her cousin Ruben around. The baby went straight for the tree and found the largest present, which conveniently belonged to her. Aelin sat down next to Rowan and he put his arm around her, kissing her temple before they watched what exactly their daughter was going to do.

Elsie sat on her butt, keeping her hands on the present so it fell in her lap. Her parents laughed as she slapped at it, squealing in delight. Rowan lent forward and ripped the paper a little, giving her a spot to focus on. Elsie took the hint, her little fist clutching at the paper and pulling at it until it started to rip. Aelin lent on Rowan’s shoulder, just watching and thinking. After presents Aelin would send Rowan up to bed for a nap and she would start getting lunch ready. Her parents were coming over, Aedion, Lysandra and Ruben too. Rowan’s big Yulemas present was the surprise of his parents coming as well, sneakily flying in a few days ago. For Elspeth’s first Yulemas they wanted to keep it simple, just spending time with family. Aelin couldn’t imagine it without his parents being there.

But this morning, it was just for them.

Rowan sat forward again, Elspeth making good progress on her present, but he didn’t lean forward to help her. Instead he grabbed a small box from under the tree.

“For you,” he said simply, as he dropped it in her lap.

“Oh, thank you,” Aelin replied, shaking the box.

“You didn’t snoop while I wasn’t here, did you?” Rowan asked, brows high.

“No, of course not,” Aelin said innocently.

Rowan pinched her side, making her yelp. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Aelin just smiled at him before ripping the paper off in one clean swipe. It was a pair of earrings, she could tell by the packaging then she had most definitely checked out last night. She flipped open the lid and choked out a laugh. It was a pair of rose gold hoops, but what had made Aelin laugh was what hung from them. Two little padlocks.

Aelin turned to Rowan, smiling so much her cheeks were starting to hurt. “I love them.”

“I thought you would,” Rowan murmured, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin. Thank you for all of this, this life together.”

Tears were starting to prick Aelin’s eyes as she kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

The moment they were sharing together was broken by musical laughter and excited clapping. Little Elsie had finally got the wrapping off her present, revealing a pack of small animals she was trying to pull from the packaging. Rowan smiled, moving forward to lie on his stomach so that he could help her.

“Let me help you, my little love,” Rowan told his daughter and started to dismantle the packaging. Then he booped her on the nose, making her giggle, “Happy Yulemas.”

Elspeth took that as an invitation to tackle his face and try to kiss him, making Rowan laugh as he tried to wrangle her before she took out an eye. It all made Aelin laugh too, wondering how she had been lucky enough to end up with all this, a husband who loved her and a darling little girl who was the light of their lives. It was a very happy Yulemas indeed.

~~~~~

Officially my last fic of 2020. Of course it was going to be Striking Matches.

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kaimelia · 3 years ago

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enough for you (ch 3)

a/n: okay. disclaimer: I did my best to get inside of link’s head with this and. what he might be thinking but I am super paranoid about this fic making amelia seem really bad. and I have made like 5 people read it and they said it didn’t but. i’m still worried about that. so just know that my intentions with this were not to slander amelia just to give link’s perspective of this okay thank you :)

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Link had always been terrified of falling in love because, in his mind, love always led to pain, divorce, and a million other terrible things. For a while, he was convinced otherwise; waking up beside her every day, dancing around their kitchen, and raising their son together was what brought him more joy than anything, but now he knew it was true.

He tried to think of where it went wrong, where he lost the woman he loves, when their relationship fell apart without his knowledge of it.

He thought of the other week when he came home after a long shift and curled up next to her in bed, just for her to scooch away from him and press her face into her pillow. He had just thought she had a difficult day and didn't push it.

Or before that, when he had gone over to Jo's just to receive a phone call from Amelia, her voice wavering as she asked him to hurry home and take Scout because she needed to go to a meeting. He'd brushed it off as stress from work; she'd lost a patient the day before, and he knew that she was upset about it.

Even earlier, an attempt at a night for themselves, he ordered from their favorite Italian place, set the table, lit candles, and coaxed Scout to sleep an hour earlier than usual; Amelia had come home just to get upset with him over changing Scout's sleep schedule, not even touching her food before she fell asleep on the couch, telling him to leave her alone for the night.

Link thought that she was just stressed. He was stressed, more than he had ever been in a long time, and he just wanted to be there for her because he thought that if anything was happening, they could get through it together.

They'd spent so long pent up in Meredith's house, bumping into each other with every step, drowning in homework assignments and board games, that the time they got to spend alone was precious and rare. He learned to comfort her with small motions, check in on her, and manage the stress in their lives.

Until she shut him out. They moved out of Meredith's, both ecstatic to have their own space, and for the first few weeks, it was just that. Their arguments were short and sparse, over his choice of outfit for Scout, how low she let the gas tank get, or other meaningless arguments that were quickly resolved. They lived in a happy bubble with just their own little family, and it was everything he could've wanted.

And then Amelia started going back to work. More days than not, which he was fine with, but she was always exhausted when she got home and seemed annoyed with him most of the time, and his attempts at consoling her only seemed to worsen the situation.

He tried to balance being there for her with being a friend to Jo, who was struggling since her application to adopt Luna was rejected. She asked him to help, and Link couldn't say no. He wanted to help; he had seen how dark things could get in Jo's life, and Link had become her greatest support system since Alex left, and Jo was always there for him.

Amelia seemed hesitant; whenever he brought up Jo, she would sigh and lost some interest in the conversation, and fostering Luna was just one thing to worsen the situation. Things were tense for months until Jo was given custody, and he was no longer legally responsible for the baby. He expected it to get better, for Amelia to return to who she was before he fostered Luna, but she never did.

There were happy moments, for sure. When Scout took his first steps, Link was sure he had never seen Amelia smile that widely, and when he babbled his first word, Amelia was overjoyed to hear him say 'Mama.' On Christmas, she was so happy to be around all of their family, and had clapped in excitement when Owen proposed and spent the car ride home ranting about how romantic of him it was. Link bit his tongue and nodded along, not wanting to reveal his own plans.

He didn't understand how she could be so excited for someone else's happiness but not for her own. She absolutely loved being around all of the children in their family, but he came to assume that she didn't want any more kids after she once informed him that she was having cramps from having an IUD put in. And that was it; she didn't want to talk about it or tell him anything about her decision on it.

She clearly didn't want to talk about her response to his proposal, either. She had stood there in silence as his stomach sank, and he stared at her for a moment before realizing he wouldn't receive an answer, a reason, or anything to explain what was wrong. He felt like he was moving in slow motion as he walked away, ignoring whoever was calling out for him as he retreated to his car, not even knowing where he would go.

Jo said it was fine to stay at her place; after all, he had done the same for her the previous year, and Link finally felt of use as he was able to ease some of her parenting qualms and help settle Luna in.

He had gone back to their home, quickly throwing clothes into a duffle bag, grabbing his guitar and anything else he wanted, leaving the rings on the counter. Let her see them, he thought. Let her know that he was here, that he wouldn't be staying there, that he didn't want to keep the rings because truthfully? He never wanted to look at a stupid engagement ring ever again.

He should've listened to everyone around him; he'd seen Jo's terrible heartbreak right in front of his own eyes and chose to think that the same would never happen to him and Amelia.

But it did.

All he wanted was to go home, wrap his arms around Amelia and Scout, and kiss her forehead, just to have a moment of normalcy before reality came back. He wanted to take back the proposal, fix their relationship, and figure out how to help her and be there for her.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to get up and shave his face, and as much as he wanted to go find his son and hold him tightly, the idea of laying on the couch for another hour was so much more appealing.

Jo had asked him countless times if he wanted to fix things with Amelia. She insisted that they could repair things, but Link shrugged off all of her comments, grabbing another beer from the fridge and returning to his makeshift bed on the couch.

He didn't know if he wanted to fix it because why try to fix something that's just going to break over and over again?

When he stood outside in the rain on Meredith's porch and yelled about how much he loved her, he thought that it was proof that nothing could ever end their relationship, that nothing could make him feel as sad and hurt as he was without her.

He felt all of that pain now. But now, he felt it because of their relationship, because of how they left things, because of everything that went wrong, and now the thought of being alone was more appealing than trying to hear out an apology.

Because now, he knew, that love ended in pain. No matter what, love would lead to pain and heartbreak, no matter how much he tried to fix it or convince himself otherwise. And, what was the point in hoping for heartbreak?

#amelink #amelia shepherd #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #atticus lincoln #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #scout lincoln #scout shepherd lincoln #jo wilson #my fics

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gmariam19 · 4 years ago

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This is no drabble - this is a one-shot! Here is my 2k Secret Santa fic for KrampusKink2020 Week Four featuring both prompts - toys and toys. 😇 I almost want to apologize as I feel like it’s one of the more ridiculous things I’ve written for these two, and it kind of goes on and on, and then there are some really bad lines at the end. . . but well. Maybe that’s the point? Utter ridiculousness? Enjoy and thank you for reading! 😊

Secret Santa

Beaumont Kin opens his gift first and finds the newest action figures from his favorite comic. He guesses they’re from Jess, and she happily drinks her whiskey shot since he was right. Her gift is a model airplane to go with her growing collection, but it’s not from Rey, and Jess drinks again for being wrong. Maybe it’s a good thing they are all at home on Zoom this year; at this rate, someone is going to end up under their own table instead of under Finn and Poe’s. At least Jess has Jannah to make sure she gets to bed.

Rey received a large shipping box and pulls out a gift bag just as big—actually, it looks like a garbage bag with a red bow. She finds a large stuffed animal and squeals as she throws her arms around the life-sized wolf. “I think it’s from Jannah!” she says.

Jannah shakes her head and mimes taking a shot. They’ve all got them lined up and ready to go. Rey frowns. “But you know how much I love wolves! You got me one last year!”

“We all know how much you like wolves, Rey,” Finn tells her. “It’s why you’re living out in the middle of nowhere. Now drink.”

Rey shrugs and hugs her wolf again, completely nonplussed by the jab; solitary living out west suits her more than anyone Finn knows. Or maybe she’s still getting over the bad break-up with Ben Solo. She does her shot—probably tequila—and gasps at Jannah to go next.

Jannah opens a Nerf bow and arrow set. She tears into the packaging and starts shooting it around the room until there is a loud crash and a startled meow. Jess and Jannah dash out of view of the camera, laughing.

“She hit Ivee!” Jess tells them as she sits down again. “She’s mad, but okay.”

“So who do you think it’s from?” Rey calls. She’s cuddled up with her stuffed wolf and drinking a glass of wine now.

Jannah returns to the screen and studies them. “Well, I want to say Poe because he’s such a kid at heart, but that’s too easy. So I’m going to say Rose because she’s smart and sneaky like that.”

Rose shakes her head. “Wrong on both accounts!” Poe laughs. “Drink twice, my dear!”

Jannah pulls a face, but she does both her shots, choking them down as Jess claps her on the back.

Rose opens her gift next, a new strategy game that she’s been talking about for weeks. “I love it! And Beaumont can’t wait to play it with me!” Kin groans, and Rose bumps him off their sofa with a grin.

“Who’s it from?” Rey asks.

Rose leans closer to the screen, pretends to squint at them all. “Finn!” she announces. “Drink!” he tells her.

She does a shot of dark rum, and Finn is up next. He is sitting on the floor with the couch behind him. Poe is lounging next to him with a whiskey sour, and there are several vodka shots lined up on the coffee table. If they have shots left at the end of their Secret Santa exchange, they’ll make toasts to the terrible year that was 2020.

Finn’s box is wrapped in black and red paper with a beautiful gold bow— not particularly festive, but well-wrapped, elegant, and mysterious. Finn has a funny feeling about it and glances up at Poe, who is watching closely and clearly holding back an impish grin. Which means he either knows what it is and who it’s from, or he got it himself.

Finn rips the paper off and finds a fancy shirt box. The theme was toys, but this looks more like clothing. It would be just like Poe to break the rules. Poe has a bit of a clothing kink, Finn is starting to suspect, and if it’s clothes, he can be sure it’s from Poe.

He pulls apart the tissue paper inside and stops. Stares. Looks up at the computer, then at Poe, and back down at his box. He can feel the heat rising in his face.

“What is it?” asks Rey. “Finn! Show us!”

“It’s from Poe,” Finn says, without pause—and without taking it out of the box. “And that’s my final answer.”

“Show ‘em what it is!” Poe says, and he’s laughing as he leans in to kiss Finn on the cheek. He picks up a shot and winks. “Or I will.” Finn watches him swallow, looks down at his gift, thinks…what the hell. Maybe two can play this game.

He pulls out a long black vest…a red silk sash…a soft velvet eye patch. A miniature plastic sword with a small bottle of rum.

There is dead silence on the computer screen, until Rey falls over laughing, literally kicking her feet in the air. Rose covers her mouth as Kin snorts, while Jess and Jannah start asking a dozen questions at once. Finn lets them have their fun, then decides to have some of his own. At Poe’s expense.

He takes off his sweater and pulls the vest over his t-shirt. Ties the sash around his waist (even though he knows perfectly well that’s not what it intended for) and puts on the eye patch, then opens the bottle and takes a long swig while he brandishes the sword. He can feel Poe watching. Good.

His friends are screaming with laughter online. Finn feels utterly ridiculous, and he sort of hates it...until he looks at Poe, whose eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted, and is he breathing quicker? Finn knows that look, because he knows exactly what turns Poe on. And it seems Poe really likes pirates, so Poe can sit there and suffer just as much as Finn.

Finn winks, and Poe’s mouth falls open a little bit more. Totally worth it.

“I hate you,” Poe murmurs.

“You love it,” Finn whispers back.

“Pirates, Poe?” Jess asks. “Really?”

“Is it a Johnny Depp thing?” Rey asks. “I bet it’s a Johnny Depp thing.”

Poe shakes his head. “Fine, keep your secrets,” says Jess. “But open yours now, it’s the last one. Maybe you got matching outfits.”

Poe makes a rude gesture before reaching for his gift. It is a small box, and Finn has been trying to figure out what it could possibly be since it arrived in the mail. The agreement had been to exchange toys this year, because they were all feeling old and sorry for themselves after so many months at home. It seemed like it would be fun, and why not turn it into a drinking game too? They are all both young enough to play with toys and old enough to drink—perfect.

But Finn has that feeling again. There’s something about Rey…she’s focused on Poe, but also trying hard to look casual. Too casual. He watches her as much as he watches Poe open his gift.

It looks like a jewelry box. Poe opens it, slams it shut. Looks wide-eyed at Finn and then bursts into laughter and falls over, rolling on the floor. Everyone asks what it is…except Rey. Poe tosses the box to Finn.

“Show ‘em,” he wheezes. Finn opens it and tosses it right back to Poe.

“No way,” he says. “I already got this hot mess.” He gestures at his pirate outfit, and Poe sits up, still laughing.

“Well, it’s from Rey, that’s for sure,” he says. Rey finally looks at the camera.

“How did you know that?” she demands.

He leans in. “Because you are not as innocent as you look, sweetheart.”

She grins, and it is that sly grin Finn loves about her, when she steps out of her comfort zone and surprises them all. She nods and takes her shot. “We did say we were exchanging toys,” she points out.

“What is it?” Jess demands. “Come on, Poe. Show us!”

“You really don’t wanna know,” Finn tells her.

“Sure she does,” Rey says. “Go on, Poe. Show her.”

Poe shakes his head, but he’s laughing again. “I will get you back for this, you know. No matter how far out in the wilderness you decide to move!”

“You’ll have to find me,” she throws back. “Now show them!”

“I have a plane. Do another shot and I will.”

“Do one with me,” she counters. So they both drink, and Poe picks up the box. Finn leaves the picture. Grabs a shot and downs it himself, earning a smile from Poe. And a wink.

“I saw that!” Rey exclaims. “You love it!”

“Well, I’ll find out soon, I hope,” Poe replies, and he holds up the cock ring Rey gifted him. Everyone dissolves into laughter again, and Finn joins them, because it is pretty damn funny. And it’s from Rey, of all people.

“Thank you,” Poe says. “And Finn thanks you as well.”

“Hey!” Finn calls. “I got my own weird sex gift, thank you very much.”

“Oh, that’s what the sash is for!” exclaims Jannah, and everyone falls apart again.

They reveal their Secret Santa identities to those who guessed wrong, then finish their shots making toasts and telling stories. Everyone pours a few more, and an hour later, they start to sign off, bleary-eyed but feeling warm and happy from the time spent together, even if it was onscreen.

“Enjoy your gifts, boys!” Jess calls before she and Jannah leave. Rose and Kin wave goodbye, no doubt to try out Rose’s new game. Rey is grinning like a cat at Finn and Poe.

“So,” she says. She finishes another glass of wine, and her nose is red.

“So,” Poe drawls. He puts his arm around Finn’s shoulder.

“Gonna try out your new gifts now?” Yes, she’s had more than a few.

“You think I haven’t been waiting all night for this?” Poe jerks his head toward Finn, who took off his pirate outfit a while ago. Poe frowns. “Where did my pirate go?”

“Your pirate is ready to board the ship,” Finn murmurs, then glances up when Rey bursts into laughter. “Sorry, Rey. But I think it’s time we turn in.”

“Have fun!” she sing-songs, humming a bit of a pirate song. Finn joins her as he reaches toward the computer; Poe’s hand is already roaming along his thigh.

“Merry Christmas!” he tells her. “We’ll talk to you in a day or two!”

“Merry Christmas,” she says. “Love you both!”

They tell her the same and log off. Finn picks up Poe’s gift box. “I can’t believe her, sometimes.”

“That was definitely an unexpected surprise,” Poe agrees.

“Yours, too. A pirate outfit? Seriously?”

Poe shrugs. “It was for fun. I got you something else for tomorrow.”

“I hope it’s not a wizard costume.”

“Space wizard, maybe.” Poe smiles and leans against Finn’s shoulder with a happy sigh. Finn teases his lips against Poe’s ear.

“You ready to head back to the ship and rock the boat? Because my peg leg isn’t the only hardwood around here.”

Poe smirks as he turns and starts trailing kisses down Finn’s neck. “That depends. You ready for me to shiver your timbers?”

“If you don’t, I might sentence you to walk my plank.”

Poe stops, sits up, and makes a face. “You know, pirate pick-up lines are not as sexy as I thought they would be.”

Finn grabs the red sash, wraps it loosely around Poe’s wrists. “You sure you don’t want to be my prisoner, mate?”

Poe’s lips curl up at that. “As long as you wear that eye patch, captain,” he murmurs.

“We’ll take turns,” Finn whispers. Because Poe would make an exceptionally handsome pirate as well, he thinks. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Oh, but I’m definitely trying out my gift first,” Poe replies, helping Finn to his feet. They share a leisurely kiss before making their way to the bedroom, where they spend hours exploring the new possibilities of cosplay and cock rings.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #krampuskink20 #Finn #Poe Dameron #Rey #Secret Santa #gmariam19 #2000 words exactly because I have number issues

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themagicinwords · 5 years ago

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This is a gift fic for @readysetstarker because Dev is a sweet and talented and wonderful person who inspires me every day. Merry Christmas!

“Pepper’s got the Secret Santa hat.”

Peter’s head popped up over the wall of his cubicle, confirming Ned’s statement when he spotted the redhead halfway across the office with a black bowler hat in her hand. This was his first Christmas with the company, but Ned had explained to him all about the Secret Santa. And even though Peter had only been here six months, he already knew exactly who he wanted to get.

The two young men watched Pepper move from cubicle to cubicle, holding out the hat so everyone could pull out a piece of paper. There were different reactions scattered around the office as each person picked a name, from disappointed pouts to slightly evil, calculated grins. As she got closer, Peter could see that each paper had the name and the department of the gifter, probably for people like him who were newer and didn’t quite know everyone in the small company yet. But if he got his wish, all of that information would be irrelevant.

When the pretty redhead finally stopped at his desk, she smiled down at him and held out the hat. “Alright Parker, your turn.” Taking a deep breath, Peter closed his eyes and fished around for a second, then said a quick prayer and wrapped his fingers around a slip of paper. He pulled it out and kept it tucked into his fist, thanking Pepper quietly, who winked at him as she moved onto Ned.

It wasn’t until she walked away that he slowly opened his fingers to stare at the plain, folded up square of paper. Peter carefully picked it up and unfolded it, the entire time silently chanting please let it be him, please let it be him, please let it be-

This must be what a Christmas miracle felt like. Peter stared down at the paper, eyes wide, as a grin rapidly spread across his face. He spun around in his chair, grinning like a fool with both fists in the air. Next door, Ned was just leaning around the cubicle wall. “Hey, Peter, did you get-” But his question was easily answered by the excitement written all over his friend’s face. And it was confirmed when Peter stopped spinning to hold out the slip of paper.

Tony Stark, IT

Ned, being just as much of a dork as Peter, jumped out of his chair to grab Peter’s hands and jump a little in excitement. “Dude, you got him! Oh, and you can use this as an excuse to finally ask him out.”

Peter’s excitement turned to fear like someone had flipped a switch. “Ned, no. I absolutely cannot do that!” But the other man just rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Sure you can. Oh! Get him a funny gift and then put, like, a coupon in it for a free home cooked meal! You’ve seen the way that guy eats, and you’re a crazy good cook!” Leave it to Ned to be the cute, romantic type.

And as much as the idea of asking Tony out terrified him, Peter knew deep down that Ned was right. This would be the perfect chance for him to take the leap. If Tony turned him down, he could always quit and move out of state. That wouldn’t be overdramatic, right? “Ok, you’re right. I’m gonna do it.” When he looked up at Ned, his friend actually looked a little surprised. “Wait, I’m right? So you’re gonna do it? Way to go, Pete!” He clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and then sat back down at his desk.

Peter turned back to his computer, set on finding the perfect gift for Tony. He knew MJ would (probably) help him with the personal aspect, but he wanted to find something fun that would make the older man smile. That’s all Tony had been doing since that very first phone call during Peter’s first month of work, making the younger man smile and laugh over and over.

“IT, Tony speaking. How can I help?”

“Hi, uh. This is Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. In marketing. My computer is doing something wonky?”

There’s a warm, deep chuckle that makes Peter melt a little inside. “Well, Peter Parker in marketing, I’m assuming you’re new?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been here a couple weeks.”

“New hires usually get the older rigs, no sense giving a newbie something shiny and new until they’re sure you’re going to stick. Marketing has a bit of a high turnover rate.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t do my work like this!”

“Easy, kid. You’re gonna explain the problem, and I’m gonna walk you through a fix. I promise I’ll get you back up and running in no time.”

“Sorry, I just.. need this job. I want this job to work out.”

“No harm, no foul, Pete. I think you’re gonna do just fine.”

Tony had spent the rest of the conversation teasing and wheedling Peter while they worked through a fix on his ancient computer, and by the time they were done, the younger man had felt calmer and lighter than he had in weeks. And every call between them that came after followed the same pattern: Peter would explain the newest problem, and Tony would tease and joke his way through the fix. It wasn’t until the younger man made it through his ninety day probation period that they actually met in person.

And Peter had nearly died when the man with salt and pepper hair and gorgeous brown eyes introduced himself as Tony when he brought up a brand new computer to replace the dinosaur Peter had been working with.

Since that initial meeting, what had started out as a crush on a faceless voice became what Ned liked to call an “adorable obsession.” And his friend had been pushing Peter to ask Tony out for months. But he had never been able to work up the courage. Until now.

The whole Secret Santa confession needed to be perfect. And that required the perfect gift. Something that would make Tony laugh, because Peter wanted to wrap himself in that laugh and roll around in it. And there must have been Christmas magic on his side, because it didn’t take long for him to stumble on the exact right thing, a coffee mug that reminded Peter of one of his favorite, and more hilarious, conversations with Tony.

“Tony, exactly how much coffee have you had? Because you aren’t making any sense.”

“Coffee comes from beans, Peter. And do you know what beans are? Vegetables! So I’m just trying to get in my daily recommended servings of veggies.”

With his gift purchased, and the package itself personalized and wrapped with MJ’s help, it was agonizing to wait the couple of weeks still left until the company Christmas party. By the time the day arrived, Peter had nearly worked himself into a panic, making himself crazy wondering if he could really go through with it. Ultimately, he knew he would never hear the end of it from his friends if he chickened out now.

He waited until the party was in full swing, and everyone else had exchanged gifts, before approaching Tony with his own. His heart flipped over as the older man’s face seemed to light up at the sight of him. “Peter! I hadn’t seen you, so I was worried you hadn’t made it.” Blushing, Peter held out his gift, watching Tony’s eyes widen as he took it. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

Tony grinned, and winked at Peter. “So you were the unlucky one who got stuck with me this year, huh?” As he started to unwrap the present, Peter shook his head. “Actually, I was um.. really excited when I pulled your name.” Surprised brown eyes met his own nervous gaze, and Tony’s cheeky grin softened into something sweeter. And then he laughed as he pulled out the mug and read what was printed on the side.

Peter’s nerves doubled when Tony spotted the slip of paper tucked inside the mug. This was it, the moment that determined whether he would have to leave the state and change his name or not. Oh god, he couldn’t look at Tony’s face, didn’t want to see the reaction as he read it.

“Peter.. is this.. um, is this.. are you offering to cook me dinner as.. as a date?”

Peter still couldn’t meet Tony’s eyes, nervously twisting his fingers together as he stared down at their shoes. “It.. it doesn’t have to be. I just, I know what your eating habits are like, and you deserve a home cooked meal once in a while, and I’m actually a really good cook, so it would be really good and-”

The sound of that deep, warm laugh that Peter had fallen a little bit in love with during that first call halted his rambling, and when he looked up, that soft smile was still on Tony’s face. “You know, I nearly choked on my own tongue when I saw you the first time, you were so damn cute." Peter's eyes grew comically wide. "Are you.. seriously? Me!?" Tony laughed again. "Yeah, you. And I thought surely there was no way you'd be interested in an old guy like me." Without thinking, Peter reached out to grip Tony’s hand in his. “Tony, you’re not old! Honestly, the silver really works for me.”

Tony’s smile grew, and he didn’t let go of Peter’s hand as he stepped closer. “That so?” Before he could respond, Peter felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slipped it out, clicking it on just long enough to see a text from Ned that said look up! Peter looked across the room at Ned giving him two thumbs up, then glanced up, eyes widening when he saw the mistletoe hanging perfectly above their heads. When he looked back at Tony, the older man shrugged, smile turning just a little bit heated. “Well, we can’t break a Christmas tradition, now can we?”

The hand not holding onto Peter’s came up to curl around the back of his neck, and then Tony’s lips were on his and Peter lit up like a Christmas tree. He swayed closer, fingers tightening around Tony’s. The kiss was better than anything he could have ever imagined, and no other gift he got this year would compare.

When Tony pulled back, Peter’s eyes remained closed, and he didn’t even care about how dopey he probably looked. He had gotten everything he wished for this Christmas.

“Hey Peter, in case you were still wondering? That’s a yes.”

#starker #readysetstarker #MERRY CHRISTMAS DEV!!#and also merry christmas to all of you reading this #i love each and every one of you

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cg29 · 4 years ago

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4 Very Old But Short fics for the birthday boy himself - Virgil Tracy 💚

Sorry for not adding the Read More option, it doesn’t appear to be working.

***

1: 15th August - From Virgil Drabbles, C1.

I’ve been here before and I always swear, ‘Never Again!’

But then… It’s over and for a few seconds, which always feels longer, I hear nothing. Then the sound I’ve been waiting for… That first cry, followed by:

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!”

The relief washes over me, as I look to my husband. The obvious pride flowing from him as our new baby is placed in my arms, and his soulful eyes lock with mine.

“Do you have a name?” Someone asks.

It’s at that moment I know I’ll be here again.

“Yes,” I nod, “his names Virgil… Virgil Tracy.”

***

2: The Birthday Gift, part 1. Brotherly Love - From The Tracy Family, C4.

‘Mm, 7am.’ Virgil thought to himself as he opened his eyes slightly and glanced at the clock. ‘A couple of more hours will be good.’ To make himself more comfortable, Virgil rolled over in his bed, with his eyes shut, puffing up his pillow as he did so. Letting out a comforting sigh, his eyes flickered open and then shut. ‘Wait, what the…’ Virgil’s eyes shot open again. Okay, his eyes weren’t deceiving him. There was his oldest brother, sat on a chair next to his bed, bouncing up and down, like a nonstop Jack-In-The-Box. “Scott, its 7am.”

“Yes and?” Scott said happily, as he continued to bounce up and down on his chair.

“Scott, what is wrong with you… Or should I really ask, how much candy have you eaten?”

“None, yet… But the day is young!”

“And how many coffees have you had?”

“Only 2. Although I did have 3 energy drinks as well this morning.”

“Yes, I can tell!”

“Well, I needed the energy to keep me going for your big day.”

Seriously Scott, you are like this every year with all of our birthdays and I’m sure you get worse every year.”

“Yes, and?” Scott replied beaming like a Cheshire Cat.

“You do realise I’m 22 and not 10 today.”

“So?”

“Scott, we’re not kids anymore!”

Scott stopped bouncing up and down and surveyed his younger brother. “Yes, you are… You see little bro, in my head all I see is the excited kid who would rush out of bed so that he could open his presents, before shovelling down pancakes for breakfast and then stuffing himself silly later in the day with his birthday cake. I’m afraid Virg, that you are stuck with this for life. Even when we are all grey and old… I’ll be waking you all up early for your birthdays, even if I need to hit you with my walking stick to get you up. Besides, you need to get out of bed because Alan and Tin-Tin get back from their honeymoon later and it would be rude not to be awake and alert for when they arrive. Plus, Kyrano is making all of us pancakes, Grandma is making you a birthday cake, Penny is flying out here as well, then we can all have a big party later tonight and you can open all your presents.”

“Presents?” Virgil asked with a grin.

“Yes, presents… Lots and lots of presents. Of course, my present to you is obviously the best!” Scott started to become excited and began bouncing up and down on his chair.

Virgil lay on his bed and shook his head. “You know who you remind me of when you bounce up and down like that?”

“No, who?” Scott inquired beginning to clap his hands together joyfully as he continued to bounce up and down.

Virgil let out a laugh. “Tigger, from Winnie The Pooh.”

“Who...Hoo…Hoo…Hoo” Scott bellowed out loud at the top of his voice.

“You’re not letting me get back to sleep again, are you?” Virgil asked pulling his big eyes look at Scott.

“Nope! And you should know by now that look doesn’t work on me.”

“Please Scott, just 1 more hour? Then I’ll promise to get up.” Virgil pleaded, pulling his big eyes face again.

Scott stopped bouncing up and down and tilted his head sideways as he looked at his younger brother. “Okay, just 1 hour, and if you’re not up then I’m dragging you out of this bed.”

“Deal.” Virgil answered, relieved that he may finally get some more sleep.

Scott stood up and turned towards the door as Virgil settled himself down in his bed. “Nah, changed my mind.” Scott said as he turned back towards Virgil pulling the blanket of him. Virgil went bright red and made a grab for the blanket pulling it back over himself. “Oh, err… Sorry Virg. Err. Maybe I should have got you some Pyjamas for your birthday instead? Yes, anyways, I’ll be going… and let you get ready… Don’t be too long Virgie…

“Okay Scott, I’m getting up. Now get out.”

“Okay, I’m going.” Scott went towards the door.

“Oh, and Scott…”

“Yes bro?”

“Don’t call me Virgie!”

“Okay, okay,” Scott went to pull the door shut calling out to Virgil as he did, “see you in a bit. Oh, and happy birthday… Virgie!”

***

3: The Birthday Gift, part 2. The Last Gift - From The Tracy Family, C5.

Virgil sat by his piano in a world of his own, playing some new music, he had received for his birthday. Meanwhile, Jeff Tracy stood leaning against the doorway listening to the beautiful melodies that were flowing from his artistic son. “Virg?”

“Virgil glanced up from the piano and smiled at his father. “Oh, hi dad. Sorry I didn’t see you there.”

Jeff walked over to his middle child and sat next to him. “Did you have a good birthday?”

Virgil grinned while he continued to play the piano. “It was fantastic dad, thank you for the party.”

“Anytime son,” Jeff replied, pulling Virgil into a warm embrace.

Virgil returned the hug and then looked at his father. “Is everything okay dad?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I just… I wanted to let you know how proud of I am of you, all that you have achieved and everything I know you will become.”

“Thanks dad,” Virgil replied slightly blushing.

“Plus, I wanted to give you this,” Jeff pulled out a small box and a card from his pocket and handed it over to Virgil.

Virgil took the gift and card from his father and held it in his hands. “Thanks dad.”

“It’s not actually from me,” Jeff looked down, then back up into Virgil’s eyes, “it’s… it’s from your mother.”

“Ah?” Virgil responded looking at the gift in confusion.

Jeff breathed in deeply and continued. “Your mother’s family have always had a tradition… On a child’s first birthday the mother will chose a small gift that can be found within the home that they believe encompasses their child’s personality. They will wrap it and put it away ready for when they turn 22.”

“Oh… Why 22 and not 21?” Virgil asked.

Jeff chuckled to himself. “I remember asking your mother the same question. Apparently, even though 21 is usually seen as someone stepping into adulthood, the family itself felt that 22 was the official age, because when you are 22 then you’ve officially left those childhood years behind and become an adult… Your mother really wanted to continue this tradition and I remember how happy she had been, when it came to her picking out the gift, wrapping it and then writing the accompanying note… A short time after she had passed, I found the gifts for all of you boys packed carefully away. I decided that she would want all of you to receive them as planned… So, I gave Scott and John theirs when they reached 22, and now… Now it’s time for yours.” Virgil glanced thoughtfully at the gift and card in his hands, unsure of what to do. “Do you want me to stay, while you open it?”

Virgil nodded, carefully opened the card and began to read.

… …

My darling Virgil.

So, today is your 22nd birthday, that’s hard for me to imagine right now as I sit here writing this on your 1st birthday and stare over at you fast asleep in your father’s arms.

I know my son, that whatever you do, or whatever you will become, I will always be proud, and both myself and your father will always be there to hold you whenever you need a helping hand.

The gift I have chosen for you encompasses something I have noticed from the beautiful personality that you are starting to develop. Ever since you were born you have been soothed by music, whether that be a record, when I am singing you a lullaby, or when I am practising on my beloved piano. So, that is why I feel that this gift is perfect for you.

Always here, never far.

Your mother. xx

… …

Virgil with tears in his eyes passed the card over to his dad and cautiously began to unwrap the gift, revealing a small black box, which when opened played a gentle lullaby. “A Music Box.” Virgil exclaimed, with tears trickling down his face.

Jeff put his arm around his middle child and held him close. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you dad,” Virgil replied wiping the tears away.

Jeff smiled as he looked at the music box. “I should have known she would have given you that music box. You loved that lullaby when you were a baby.”

Virgil smiled. “So, what did Scott and John get?”

“Well, it seems your mother sussed you all out really well. John was given a golden star that used to hang on the Christmas tree, he had been so fascinated by that star, even though he wasn’t that old on his first Christmas. He was also enamoured with the star mobile we had above his bed, I remember your mother saying he would probably end up in space just like me… And Scott…” Jeff let out a laugh. “Scott was always trying to climb the furniture and jump of it. Whenever he saw a bird or an aeroplane he would go quiet and watch with fascination. Your mother gave him an old air loom of her grandfathers, a small-scale Spitfire… Anyway, everyone is probably gathered in the kitchen waiting for you to cut your cake, are you coming?”

Virgil nodded, carefully picked up his gift and card. Then with his father’s arm placed around him they both left the room.

***

4: Birthday Wish.

Eighteen.

My first without you

Only one month you’d been gone

Our tears were still new.

Yet despite our grief

and my reluctance to celebrate

A party was given

In honour of the date.

Family and close friends

And no rescue calls

A good time was had

By one and all.

Then right at the end

After many speeches filled with praise

A cake was presented

With candles ablaze

Close your eyes they said

And concentrate really hard

Then make a wish

For whatever is in your heart.

So, I closed my eyes

And those candles I blew

I wished for you to return

But it never came true.

…

Nineteen and Twenty

One injured, the other a major rescue call

Yet at the end of each day

I was presented with a birthday ball

After food and drinks

And everyone felt contented

A cake with candles aflame

Was once again presented

Time to make a wish

My family all said

So I hoped and I prayed

And I pictured you in my head

Then, I closed my eyes

And those candles I blew

I wished for you to return

But it never came true.

…

Twenty-One.

Was the biggest of them all

Except by pretending to forget

Their plans went slightly AWOL

A diversion rescue

That was meant to just stall

Swallowed my whole day

And made me miss this year’s ball

The very next day

Although I’d protested

They offered to make it up

And a birthday cake was presented.

I gazed down

Twenty-one candles all gleamed

All awaiting my hopes

And my dreams

So, I closed my eyes

And those candles I blew

I wished for you to return

But it never came true.

… …

Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three

Had candles shining bright

Would these years come true

If I wished with all of my might

So, I closed my eyes

And those candles I blew

I wished for you to return

But it never came true.

… …

Twenty-Four

A trip to our other home

Gran Roca Ranch

Where we had all grown.

A morning with the horses

An afternoon barbecue

The evening watching the sunset

Where my silent thoughts turned to you

Were you still out there

Or were you really gone

Would we ever know

Or was it time we moved on.

Except I couldn’t give in

Not yet, not ever

This year if I wished harder

Maybe my next birthday would be better

So, I closed my eyes

And those candles I blew

I wished for you to return

And on my twenty-fifth birthday it came true.

#happy virgil tracy week #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #virgil tracy week #virgiltracyweek #thunderbirds os #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go fandom

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borhapparker · 6 years ago

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secret santa | tom holland x female!reader

a/n: this is for a special little gift as a secret santa! (previously posted on another tumblr)

word count: 1.7k

Fic Masterlist

This was the first year you were spending Christmas with Tom’s family, always spending other holidays with yours, you both realized it was time for a change. Your family wasn’t objecting, wanting you to spend equal time with both sides of the family, and they had a big party anyway, so you had prepared yourself to spend the holidays with the Hollands. In advance, Tom had told you that they were doing a Secret Santa between the family members, and that they had wrote you in, getting Nikki to send you your Secret Santa, and realizing you had an easy member of the family: Tom. Yet, at the same time, it was hard knowing what he would’ve wanted.

On the days leading up to the Holidays, Tom had pestered you about who you had gotten for Secret Santa, yet you never budged. He didn’t either, wanting to not spoil the surprise, knowing that whoever he had gotten would like their gift.

Three days before leaving, you had headed to the local mall, wanting to search for the perfect gift for Tom, already having some things in mind. With a list in hand, you began your search, waking through various stores, admiring different objects and trinkets, as well as some electronics, yet nothing caught your eye till you finally thought of a couple gifts you could put together.

Tom, back at home, was preparing his gift. Holding the small box in his hands, he smiled, before wrapping it in the beautiful paper and placing it among the others in the gift bag. His thoughts were flooded with emotions, nerves coursing through his veins as he thought about his gift. Was it good enough? Would they like it? What if they hate it? Yet, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his head, finishing wrapping his gifts before placing the bag in the trunk of his car, hidden from view.

Your trip to the mall had finally ended, as you ordered what you were looking for, bought a couple items, arms heavy with bags, as you headed to your car. A smile was on your face, knowing your search had been successful, and hopefully, Tom would like his gifts. Heading home, your thoughts flooded on Tom’s reactions: Excited? Elated? Surprised? Disappointed? Sad? Pushing those thoughts to the back of your head, you smiled, knowing he would like your gifts either way.

It was now Christmas Eve, as you walked through the door of the Holland household, your gift in your hand and Tom’s hand in yours. Paddy was the first to greet both of you, opening the door for you guys and smiling, happiness being displayed on his face as he ushered both of you in. The rest of the family was busy finishing dinner and putting some gifts under the tree, as you made your way to Nikki, a smile on your lips.

As soon as she saw you, she brought you in for a hug, rubbing your back in appreciation, “I’m so glad you came, Y/n!”

“Thank you for having me, Nikki!” you said, removing your arms from her body as you walked behind her, enveloping Sam and Elysia, who were both cooking alongside Nikki. “It’s so good to see all of you! How have you been?”

Elysia smiled at you, “Good! Just got back from my trip, so it’s been tiring. How have you been? Did you get the job you were talking to me about last time?”

Nodding, she squealed in delight for you and wrapped you in another hug before Sam congratulated you as well. Heading out of the kitchen, not before taking a small spoonful of the food they were making, you greeted Harry, who was fiddling with his camera alongside Dom. Hugging both, they smiled at you, as Harry aimed the camera at you, before taking a picture, keeping the camera away from you so you wouldn’t delete the picture.

You headed to the living room, placing your gift under the tree among the other wrapped presents, before heading to the dining room, where Tom was with Sam while they dug into a dip with chips. Walking to the kitchen, you helped alongside Elysia and Nikki, finishing dinner, before setting the table, and placing the dishes on the table. As soon as the aroma trailed through the house, the table was full, everyone sitting and waiting for the rest.

You took your seat next to Tom, and across from Harry, your fingers interlocking with Tom’s underneath the table between your chairs. Smiling at him, he returned your affection, placing a kiss on the top of your hand as the family watched, even Elysia watched with a smile on her face.

As soon as everyone sat, they started eating, each serving themselves a plate as the conversations filtered around the dinner table. Your name was mentioned a couple times as you laughed along with the rest, smiling and exchanging playful banter between Paddy and Harry, Tom occasionally joining in.

Throughout the dinner, Nikki noticed. She noticed Tom’s occasional shaking of his hand, the smile he gave you, the lingering gazes. You were sitting right next to him, yet you didn’t notice the little things. Nikki had been married for a long time, and she noticed those gazes Tom was giving you. She had purposefully chosen Tom’s Secret Santa for him, knowing he had a gift he had been waiting to give them yet never having the perfect moment to give them the gift.

Sam noticed the gazes too, the lingering touches, the arm around her shoulder, the smile on his face. It never seemed to fade, and he realized that how Tom felt around you, is how he felt when he was with Elysia. He realized that Tom truly was in love, and saw how you had opened up to everyone, not only Tom, but to the whole family. You looked happy, bright, in love. He knew about the Secret Santa exchange, and he was elated to find out everyone’s reactions.

“So, everyone almost done?” Nikki asked as everyone nodded, as you all cleared the table before heading to the living room, sitting on the couch and the floor around the Christmas tree.

“So, who wants to start with their gift?” Sam raised his hand as he grabbed his gift from underneath the tree and turned to Paddy.

“Merry Christmas, Paddy!” he thanked him with a hug, before opening his gift, revealing a new video game, a poster for his favorite band and a headset.

Paddy then grabbed his gift, handing it to Harry, who thanked him as well and then opened his own gift. The camera he had wanted all year, some new vinyls, and a signed shirt of his favorite singer.

It went around until it was just you and Tom. You wanted to go first, handing Tom his gift as he smiled, hugging you and kissing you on the cheek before opening the gifts.

You had gotten him a t-shirt you had seen that was perfect for him, displaying some text featuring Spider-Man, as he laughed when he read it, the smile reaching his eyes. Reaching inside the bag, he grabbed onto a small box which contained the watch he had been eyeing for a while now. Not only that, but at the bottom of the bag, he found an envelope. Opening it, he pulled out the letter first, reading it and noticing it was correspondence between his manager and you, where he granted you and Tom a month of vacation days, and inside the envelope contained bookings to a hotel in Barcelona.

“Surprise! Your manager said your vacation days had piled up so I wanted to use them. We’re leaving in a week.” you said, smile on your face as Tom brought you in for a hug, kissing your shoulder before letting go and bringing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

“Thank you love, this was an amazing surprise.” Tom said, before reaching back and handing you his gift.

Smiling, you grabbed the bag, opening it and noticing various different presents inside. Unbeknownst to you, Harry had taken out his camera and begun taking pictures, as Nikki recorded on her phone.

You slowly took out the box on the bottom, opening it and noticing a shirt folded. Tom told you to keep looking through, as you obliged, putting the tshirt aside without reading it and taking out the next box, which contained a beautiful thin necklace with a single T in the middle. Before you could grab the last box, Tom reached over and grabbed it, before bringing you up to a standing position.

“Y/n, I have so much to say, yet as soon as I looked into your eyes, I completely forgot what was on my mind.” he softly chuckled before taking your hands, “I love you, and have loved you for a long time. “Since we met on set after Laura introduced us, becoming friends before we dated, all the memories we shared together during our breaks and while we filmed. It definitely was the most fun I’ve had with anyone other than Harrison and my brothers, and I appreciate you for every moment we’ve shared together. These past 2 years have been bliss to me, and I really hope we can continue this, for many more years to come.” Slowly, Tom brought himself down on one knee as you covered your mouth, tears brimming your eyes as you looked at the man you loved, down on one knee. “Here’s to many more, darling. Will you marry me?”

Nodding, tears rolled down your cheeks as you smiled so wide your jaw began to hurt, “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Tom stood up and enveloped you in a hug, as his family clapped and Harry kept taking pictures. Slowly sliding the ring onto your finger, you looked up at him with adoration in your eyes. Unlatching himself from you, he bent down again to grab the discarded t-shirt and unfolding it, showing you the design.

“Ms. Holland.” turning it around, you laughed at the t-shirt print, “Caught in his web.” with an arrow pointing to the right.

“I love it.” you said, as Tom smiled at you, before you turned back to his family. Posing for quick pictures, you went to hug each of them, knowing now that they would soon become permanently part of your family.

What a Christmas surprise.

#skye's writing #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #secret santa!tom holland

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scarletwritingwolf · 6 years ago

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A Christmas ficlet from

The Art of Healing:

Fir Lodge

It was most definitely snowing, I lay in my bed feeling the change in air surround me. I couldn’t resist a wee peek outside, just to see the first flurry of snow.

I stoked the fire in the master bedroom and went to the window, the ground was already blanketed in white.

I wondered if Jenny was awake. As children we used to stay up and wait to see the first snow, mesmerised as the first flakes fell.

I should have stayed at Lallybroch over Christmas, this house was too unfamiliar and the few furnishing I possessed failed to make it feel like home.

Resolving to stay over there tomorrow night so that I could spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with the Murray’s, I crawled back into bed, it was too cold to be out from under the covers.

. . . . . .

While making the one kilometre trip from my house to Lallybroch, I decided I needed to come up with a name for the house; I couldn’t keep calling it the Beauchamp house, or the project house. Perhaps my nephew and nieces could help me name it.

I pulled into the driveway and it took 10 seconds for the kitchen door to fly open, Jenny called a greeting and young Jamie came barrelling towards me.

“Ye’ve decided to stay wi’ us for Christmas then brother?”

“Aye, if ye’ll have me.”

“Of course, the bairns will be excited.” She hugged me, and as she pulled away she said, “But ye ken what this means don’t ye? Ye’ll have to be Father Christmas? Ian is no’ convincing with that limp of his.”

I laughed “Well ok then, as long as I dinna have to stay dressed up for long, that suit is itchy.”

She took my bag. “Come in, I’ll fix ye lunch.”

. . . . . .

Jamie, Maggie and wee Kitty were most effective at keeping me busy and entertained, I had no idea how much work they could be.

Jenny was busy in the kitchen, the delicious aromas of her cooking wafting through the house. Ian was running errands on his wife’s beck and call, picking up all of the fixings to make the Christmas feasts fabulous.

I took the youngins out to make snow angels after lunch. Young Jamie whooped with glee as frolicked in the snow, Maggie was more reserved about the process but didn’t hesitate to insist that her angel was by far the nicest looking one. Wee Kitty didn’t cooperate at all, preferring to be held while she watched her siblings.

I turned to wave to Jenny in the kitchen, Kitty mimicked my wave and giggled. Before I had turned around to face the children again, there was a blood curdling scream.

Maggie cried “Uncoooooooooooooooo!!! Jamie threw a snowbaw at me!”

The young master smiled guiltily in the shadow of the previously built snow man.

“She was teasing my angels, she said they were messy!”

I knelt down in front of Young Jamie. “It isna nice to throw things at our siblings Jamie, even if ye didna like what Maggie said to ye, it wasna the right thing to do.”

“I ken it Uncle. I’m sorry.”

“Ye need to apologise to Maggie too.”

He looked at his sister, stood up straight and said stiffly, “I’m sorry sister, I willna do it again.”

Maggie sniffed.

“Come wee ones, lets go inside, get out of our wet clothes and ask yer Mam for some hot cocoa.”

. . . . .

The remainder of the afternoon went by without incident. I helped the bairns to colour their pictures for Father Christmas. Kitty finally napped, unfortunately this happened in my arms, so I had no choice but to hold whispered conversations for two hours while she slept.

By 5pm I was starving and the kids had become slightly unruly.

I yelled for Jenny. “When do ye think we might be eating Janet? The bairns are hungry, and so am I.”

“Yeh can be helpful and set the table for me! Dinner will be ready soon!” She called back.

“Come Jamie, Maggie, let’s go and set the table.” I shooed them into the dining room, and supervised as they clumsily set out plates and silverware. Once they had finished they took their seats at the table, and I put Kitty into her high chair.

“While we wait lets play a game, it’s called ‘Let’s Name Uncle Jamie’s New House’” I hoped this would be enough to distract them, and at the same give me inspiration.

Young Jamie was the first to pipe up. “How about Snow Sparkle.” It was suddenly evident that I’d forgotten I was talking to children under the age of six.

I chuckled. “That’s an interesting idea, any others?”

Every nonsensical name under the sun had been suggested. Young Jamie had an unstoppable case of the giggles after suggesting a name pertaining to human waste. He didn’t stop until his Mother entered the room.

“What is God’s name is going on in here Jamie? I thought ye were setting the table.” She cast a scrutinising eye over the table we had laid.

“Jamie and Maggie have finished the table Janet.” I said putting on my most solemn look. “We were just discussing names for my house.”

“I see.” She wandered out to the kitchen, and came back a short moment later, her arms laden with pork and apples, roasted potatoes and my favourite brown sugar glazed carrots. “How about Fir Lodge? Ye’ve all those pretty fir trees about, and it willna offend others if ye dinna include Fraser in the name.”

I chose to ignore her subtle dig at Claire. I thought the name she had suggested was quite perfect actually. “I like that very much Jenny, Fir Lodge it is.”

I sensed that Jenny was about to continue her assault of the homes previous owner, so I was thankful that Ian chose this moment to walk in the door.

“Da!!!” The children yelled, hugging Ian tightly around the middle. “We’ve made snow angels with Uncle, and made a drawing for Father Christmas, and Uncle’s house is called Fir Lodge, and Uncle says he’s going to read us a bedtime story.”

“It sounds like ye’ve been very busy.” He cast twinkling eyes in my direction, clearly amused at the fact that I was still living after enduring all of these activities with three small children.

Jenny clapped, “All right ye lot, go wash up, dinner is ready.”

. . . . . . .

I was so full, I’d eaten far too much. The children had fallen silent at the table clearly feeling the same way. The meal had been delicious, there was no more room for third or fourth helpings, and the silence attested to everyone’s contentment.

The reverie was broken by Jenny as she left to get the children bathed and into pyjamas. Ian and I were left to do the dishes.

Ian was in a conversational mood as we cleaned the dishes, “It’s nice to have ye about Jamie, the bairns like spending time with their Uncle.”

“It’s good of ye lot to have me, it’s been a little lonely being by myself at times. And your rabble of bairns certainly keep me preoccupied, and I do love them so.” I smiled as I said this, I really was very fond of my nieces and nephew.

“I’m glad to hear it. I hope, then, that you’ll have room to love another niece or nephew.”

I shot him a look. “Ye aren’t saying? Jenny is pregnant again?”

“She is, she’ll be two months along next week.” Ian was beaming, elated that he could share the news with someone else.

“Congratulations to ye both!” I held up my half empty wine glass. “Sláinte.”

I drained the glass, unsure what to say next.

“Jamie, I ken what happened with ye, Murtagh told me.” Ian shifted a little uncomfortably. “It will happen for ye too, when the time is right.”

“I know.” I said simply.

I heard a clattering down the hallway, and when I looked down I saw Kitty at my feet bouncing, she was waiting to be picked up. I lifted her up, kissing her rosy little cheeks. “Is it story time then wee’un?” I asked her even though I knew it wouldn’t garner a response.

I clapped Ian on the back, thanked him, and carried Kitty with me into the sitting room to sit before the fire.

We settled into the large armchair, and before long I had Young Jamie and Maggie on my lap as well.

“Will ye read this book to us Uncle?” Young Jamie held up a book.

“Of course I will, make yerselves comfortable.” Maggie moved to lay on a cushion on the floor in front of the fire, young Jamie nestled back onto me, and Kitty remained tucked into the crook of my arm.

I began to read. “A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Stave 1: Marley’s Ghost. Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register.....”

Two chapters in and I was yawning, I looked to Maggie who was asleep under her dressing gown, Jamie and Kitty were both asleep on me. I leant my head back, closing my eyes, feeling the steady breathing of the bairns.

Somewhere in the distance I could hear Jenny placing presents under the tree, and setting out cookies for Father Christmas. I’d been lightly dozing when I felt her putting a blanket over us. I opened my eyes to look at her and thanked her wordlessly.

She smiled at me, and went to kiss each of the bairns, and then bent over to kiss my forehead. “Good night Jamie.”

. . . . . .

Merry Christmas to all of the lovely people who read this fic. I appreciate it so much 🎄

#merry christmas #outlander christmas fic #fan fic #outlander #the art of healing #christmas drabble

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paradoxicalpatton · 6 years ago

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Fanders Secret Santa!

@starswingsandthings @secretsanders

Hello there! I’m Patton, your Secret Santa! I read through your wishlist, and unfortunately I’m a terrible artist. I am however, a pretty decent fic writer! So I thought I’d write a cute Prinxiety fic as your present! I didn’t really have anything to go off, so I googled some Christmas prompts and found one that I thought was perfect. I hope you like your present, Happy Holidays!

Prompt: To impress them, they learn all of the words to their favorite Christmas carol. And they doesn’t even like carols. Or Christmas. Or singing.

Pairing: Prinxiety

Au: Human! Au - Virgil is waiting at home for his housemate Roman, who goes to visit his parents for Christmas. However this Christmas, Virgil realises his true feelings for his best friend.

Word Count: +1.5k

You can click here to listen to the song Virgil sings!

The sound of the crackling wood from the fireplace filled the apartment, the warm light touching every object in the small living room, shadows resembling Christmas stockings covered the walls. Sitting on the sofa was Virgil, his favourite constellation quilt that Roman had made over his lap. On the small side table he’d moved next to him was a cup of camomile tea, his phone, and Roman's gingerbread candle. In his hands was ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ by Agatha Christie, a book his brother Logan had recommended to him. Looking up at the wall, Virgil noticed that the clock read 9:00. “Roman should’ve finished dinner by now.” he thought to himself. Placing the bookmark in his book, Virgil closed what he’d been reading, and replaced the book in his hands with his phone, sending Roman a message.

Emo Nightmare: sup ro, how's dinner with the fam?

Prince of your dreams: Why hello my dark and stormy night! I believe to be having a wonderful time, but I wish you were here with me.

Emo Nightmare: so do i, i could video call if you want? maybe i could give you your christmas present bc you won't be here on the day

Prince of your dreams: Oh Virgil that sounds splendid! Let me grab my laptop!!

Emo Nightmare: cool, ill grab mine too i guess

Virgil put his phone down gently on the book, and bent over to pick up his laptop off the floor next to him. He quickly opened it and put his password in before opening the video chat app. Roman's account switched to 'online’ and Virgil hit the call button, Roman answering quickly.

“Virgil! How is my chemically imbalanced romance?” Roman waved excitedly, his hair bouncing lightly. Virgil laughed quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey princey, I'm good. Pretty alone though.” Virgil looked up at the screen, lifting the hood of his jumper over his head. He let himself smile at the sound of Roman's laugh.

“I'll be home in a week Virge, did you open the present I left for you?” Roman adjusted himself so he was lying down on his stomach, reaching out of frame to grab his hot chocolate.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks Ro, it means a lot.” Virgil grabbed his own mug, taking another sip of his tea, Roman clapping excitedly in the background.

He'd had trouble figuring out a good present for Virgil, they may have known each other door a few years now but his purple haired friend was still a mystery. Eventually Roman bought him a new quilt set, most of it purple with black cats on it, the perfect thing to match the rest of his room. Virgil, on the other hand, had an even harder time than Roman. What could he have possibly gotten him that his creative friend didn't already have? After months (yes, months. Virgil spent months thinking of something) of planning, Virgil finally thought of it.

“Actually, I have something for you as well. It isn't the best gift ever, but I put a lot of effort into it.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his lap sheepishly.

“I'm sure I'll love it no matter what! After all, a gift is a gift.” Virgil glanced up and smiled, Roman's deep emerald coloured eyes reassuring him. He slipped in some earphones and pressed play on a song in his phone.

“The fire is burning, the room's all aglow. Outside the December wind blows.”

He remembered when they first met, at Logan's Christmas party. The fireplace was lit, a warm light covering the room.

“Away in the distance, the carollers sing in the snow.”

The next Christmas they went out as a group to go ice skating. A group of people walked by singing carols, Roman joining in from afar.

“Everybody's laughing, the world is celebrating, and everyone's so happy, except for me tonight.”

They'd spent every Christmas together since they met. But this year Roman went to visit his family, leaving Virgil alone. On Christmas.

“Because I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, get you off my mind.”

Virgil spent everyday of December leading up to Christmas wondering why he couldn't stop thinking off the royal pain in his ass that he called his housemate.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright. But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

He asked Logan what it could be, but to no avail. His logical friend smiling sweetly as he told Virgil to ask Patton instead.

“I gaze out the window, this cold winter's night. At all of the twinkling lights.”

Soon enough Virgil asked Patton about his situation, his usually emotional friend smiling sadly. He knew exactly what it was, and he knew Virgil wouldn't like it.

“Alone in the darkness, remembering when you were mine.”

No. Virgil refused to believe it. This was just Patton playing a trick on him. He could never. Not in a million years.

“Everybody's smiling, the whole world is rejoicing. And everyone's embracing, except for you and I baby.”

Maybe he did. Virgil spent countless nights awake, pacing his room. Thinking about Roman's green eyes, his light honey coloured hair, the freckles that came in pairs, and his heavenly smile. Maybe Virgil did lov- um, maybe Virgil did like Roman.

“I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, no no no no, get you off my mind.”

Virgil felt awful. He'd spent so long thinking about his own problems that he'd forgotten to get Roman something for Christmas. He stayed up all night that night, eventually deciding that he should listen to his heart. His heart named Patton. Who was yelling at him the next morning for staying up.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright. But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

Virgil agreed with both Logan and Patton, and started searching for a song that would convey exactly how he felt about Roman. But even Virgil didn't know how he truly felt.

“In the springtime, those memories start to fade with the April rain. Through the summer days, till autumn's leave are gone.”

Roman only ever left Virgil around December. But he would always be home on Christmas day. Virgil could handle it any other time of the year. So why was it so bad now?

“I get by without you, till the snow begins to fall and then I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, no no no no, get you off my mind.”

Virgil was in love with Roman. He was madly, deeply in love with his annoying, ignorant, somewhat handsome best friend. And he hated everything about it. The feeling of course, not the guy he fell for.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright.”

Virgil loved Roman.

“But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

Virgil took out his earphones and looked up at the screen to a sight he thought he'd never see. Roman had moved and was sitting up again, he had tears running down his cheeks, his hands covering his mouth. Virgil was convinced he'd done something wrong. He probably had. He knew singing to him was a bad idea. As he went to apologise, Roman cut in, silencing the younger man.

“Virgil… I don't know where to begin,” Roman wiped his tears away and smiled at the camera. “That was beautiful. How have I never heard you sing? Although that isn't what's important, why did you sing that song?”

Virgil looked away and figited with the blanket in his lap, afraid to answer.

“Virgil? You can tell me, I won't judge you.” Virgil took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight.

“Because I love you Roman!” He let out a sigh and laughed, brushing a hand through his hair, thinking to himself ‘Well that wasn't that bad’. But when Roman didn't answer him he began to worry again. Virgil slowly looked up at a completely black screen.

His laptop went flat. His laptop, went flat.

Virgil slammed it shut, blew out the candle next to him, put out the fire in the fireplace and turned his phone off before running to his room and locking the door. He can't believe that actually happened. Although he's lucky he did, Roman would never feel the same.

A week passed and Virgil hadn't moved from his bed. He hadn't eaten or showered, and only left to use the bathroom. He'd been thinking about packing some of his things and leaving. Maybe he could find a small apartment in Antarctica, far, far, away from Roman. Unfortunately his plans were cut short with a loud banging on his door.

“Virgil! Virgil! Are you in there?” Patton, he hadn't heard Patton's voice in weeks.

“Virgil? If you're in there please let us know you're ok.” Logan, he sound panicked? Why?

Before he could answer his own question he heard the lock on the door rattling, the sound of a butter knife hitting it? That could only be one person.

“Virgil? Oh god Virgil, you're alright!” Roman opened the door and dropped the knife, rushing over toward him, pulling Virgil into a tight embrace.

Patton and Logan quietly closed the door to give Roman and Virgil some privacy. They obviously had a lot to talk about. Virgil explained to Roman that his laptop died and that if he heard anything he didn't really mean it. Which lead to Roman confessing his own romantic feelings to his edgy crush. The two sat there on Virgil's bed, laughing over the misunderstanding. Slowly the held hands and left the room, going out to find Logan and Patton.

“Hey Padre? Do you and Logan wanna come on a double date with myself and my emo prince?”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #secret sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fanfic #fanfiction #patt writes #prinxiety #logicality #christmas #mariah carey

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auroraphilealis · 7 years ago

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Too Tense to Be Undone (7/7)

Too Tense to Be Undone (7/7) | Dan’s never had an orgasm before. Despite being in a relationship with his ex-girlfriend for three years, he’s just never been able to finish. The doctor’s don’t know what’s wrong with him, so Dan’s mostly put it out of his mind. Until his gap year, when he starts talking with AmazingPhil, and accidentally admits that he’s never come before. Phil’s happy to help with more than just convincing Dan to post YouTube videos, if Dan will just give him the chance. | Phan | Explicit | Slight Friends with Benefits, Pining, Eventual Smut, Very Explicit Smut, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Getting Together, 2009, Skype | 12,841 Words This Chapter

Extra big thanks to @imnotinclinedtomaturity for being the most supportive friend ever who gets excited about my fics and reads them six times over everytime I make a new edit yikes. I hope that I can show Kat how much I love her in return because she’s amazing and I’ve decided she’s mine.

Hello friends! The long awaited, promised, chapter 7 (that was never supposed to happen *cough* kat *cough*). The story has officially concluded with an update that I HOPE will make all your dreams come true ;) Definitely expect some more smut tbh. But also, I just hope you overall enjoy what I’ve put into this chapter because I wanted to keep building their actual relationship as well as everything else going on. I think you’ll love it! The story is OFFICIALLY 75K in total, which is fucking insane how did that happen, and… you should maybe look out for a sequel in the future (no promises on when, but I think it’s definitely coming).

Thank to you every single person who commented, sent an ask, or reblogged this story. I can’t believe it got so much happy feedback, and while I might not have answered each and every comment, I treasure everyone.

(previous chapter) (ao3 link)

Christmas 2009

The moment Phil’s door fell shut behind him, Dan slumped down on Phil’s bed with a “umph” of pleasure, eyes falling closed and small smile curving the corners of his lips. It felt so good to lay down after the long day of traveling to Manchester Piccadilly, Phil’s house, and then spending time with Phil’s family, and even better to lay down in Phil’s bed. It it had been far too long since Dan had been here.

“Alright there?” Phil asked with a little giggle. Dan moaned out a half response, and nodded his head, rolling onto his side to curl up with Phil’s pillow. “You look comfortable,” Phil continued, shuffling around his room.

“I am,” Dan replied without opening his eyes.

“Good, I’m glad. But I’d be even more glad if you took your snow covered jacket off rather than rubbing the mess all over my bed,” Phil teased. A lump fell on top of Dan, and Dan opened his eyes to find that Phil had dropped his coat on Dan.

“Rude,” Dan complained, sitting up and tossing Phil’s sodden coat to the floor.

“Hey!” Phil protested, laughing. “Don’t put it on my floor! Now it’s going to be all wet!”

“Your mum’s wet.”

“Daaaaan, don’t talk about my mum like that!” Phil complained, making a face as he leaned over to strip off his socks as well. Dan snickered, secretly a little proud of himself for cracking a your mum joke that actually made sense, and shrugged out of his own winter jacket.

“Anyway,” Phil said, haphazardly tossing the socks to the floor before collapsing on the bed next to Dan. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, dropping his coat and settling back down on Phil’s bed, long limbs pressing up along Phil’s warm side. “Your family’s pretty cool, Phil. I’m jealous.”

Phil snorted, but found Dan’s hand on the bed, entwining their fingers together gently. Dan felt warmth shoot through him, rushing from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes. He smiled.

“They’re alright I guess,” Phil said modestly, words a soft sigh as he settled into the bed. Dan shifted his hips closer so he and Phil were touching all along their sides, and rolled his eyes.

“They’re amazing, Phil,” Dan shot back, squeezing Phil’s fingers for good measure.

He and Phil had spent the last couple of hours outside, as Phil’s family gathered on the porch to to watch the snow fall. Mr. and Mrs. Lester had sat on the double rocker with two mugs of coffee in hand, and three abandoned mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of them. Dan, Phil, and Phil’s brother, Martyn, had been playing in the snow, making a mess of each other, and generally causing mayhem in the backyard.

They hadn’t been the only one’s in the neighborhood taking advantage of the snow, though. Dan didn’t know what it was, but something about Rawtenstall seemed to bring out the childhood Christmas spirit in everyone, because most of the neighbors were either sat on their porches, or playing in the snow as well.

It had been nice, a far better afternoon than Dan would have had at his own home in Wokingham, and the Lesters had made Dan feel more than welcome.

Of course Dan knew that the Lesters took Christmas really seriously and it was usually a family-only event, but Dan was going home on the 23rd so he wasn’t really intruding.

And, well, it helped that Phil had introduced Dan to his family as his boyfriend. That might have been the highlight of Dan’s return trip to Phil’s home this weekend, considering he hadn’t expected as much so soon when he’d first booked the train tickets. Phil’s family had pretty much adopted Dan as one of them the moment the words were out of Phil’s mouth either way, so it didn’t really matter in the long run.

“You know Dan, my… boyfriend,” Phil said, giggling a little as he wrapped his arm around Dan’s shoulder casually, dragging him into Phil’s side. Dan stumbled a little at the sudden movement, and, while he’d known that Phil had eventually planned to tell his parents about their relationship, he hadn’t been expecting it to happen now.

His eyes went wide as Martyn and Mrs. Lester, who’d been sat on the living room sofa finishing up afternoon tea, stared wide eyes and a little owlishly at the two of them. Mrs. Lester nearly dropped her tea in shock, the sight a terrifying one to Dan.

Fuck, Dan hadn’t mentally prepared for this. He didn’t know what to make of Martyn and Mrs. Lesters’ expressions, or what to expect. Phil had talked plenty about his family, but he’d never properly set Dan’s expectations for this moment. Maybe Phil didn’t know himself.

Dan knew that Phil’s parents were perfectly accepting of the fact that Phil was gay, but Phil had also said he’d never brought home a boyfriend before - mostly due to the fact that he’d never had a boyfriend. What if a boyfriend made the whole situation more real to them, and they kicked Dan out on the spot?

As Dan’s thoughts spun in desperate, horrified circles, Mr. Lester began to laugh, breaking the silence that had fallen over the five people in the lounge. Dan’s heart leapt into his throat as he wondered whether or not that meant Mr. Lester thought this whole thing was a joke, and tried not to let himself jump to any conclusions.

That was far easier said than done, unfortunately.

Then Martyn burst into laughter as well, and Dan glanced at Phil to find his boyfriend grinning. Something tight started to loosen up in Dan’s chest, and when he looked back towards where the rest of the Lesters were sat, he found Mrs. Lester standing and rushing over to him.

Before Dan could prepare himself, Mrs. Lester was gathering him up into a huge hug, the force of which knocked Phil’s arm away from Dan’s shoulder. For a moment, Dan could do nothing but let his arms hover awkwardly at Mrs. Lester’s side, unaccustomed to such affection, before he finally relented and hugged her back.

Her arms were just as warm as Phil’s always were, if not warmer, and Dan suddenly understood why Phil was such a good hugger. He’d clearly learned it from his mum. Dan sighed, allowing himself to tuck his face into Mrs. Lester’s hair, and breathing in deeply in order to savor this moment.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Lester whispered into Dan’s ear. “For making my boy happy. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, before you. I thought he’d never find someone. I thought he’d never bring someone home for us to meet. You can’t imagine what a godsend you are, dear.”

The weight of Mrs. Lester’s words took Dan by surprise, and he found his mouth falling open in a little “o,” his eyes wide once again. Maybe Mrs. Lester hadn’t meant to sound like she was assuming he and Phil were going to be together forever, but that was what Dan heard. Or maybe it was just what he’d wanted to hear.

As Mrs. Lester pulled away from Dan, not so surreptitiously swiping tears away from her eyes, Dan glanced over at Phil to find that Martyn had reached them and was clapping his brother on the back good naturedly. His eyes were twinkling with mirth as he wiggled his eyebrows at Phil, an expression Dan couldn’t quite understand.

Phil seemed to get it though, because he went bright red, and swatted at Martyn, slapping his brother on the arm wordlessly. Martyn laughed, swatting at Phil back, the two boys beginning to wrestle like siblings who got along far too well and rarely actually got truly angry at each other.

Then Mr. Lester stepped into Dan’s space, clapping a hand on Dan’s shoulder, and dragging Dan’s attention away from Phil altogether.

“About time, son,” he said, smiling at Dan, but very clearly speaking to Phil. “You know,” he added conspiratorially, “He’s never brought a partner home that he intended to actually stay.”

Dan’s cheeks went dark red as the words registered in his mind, and the realization that Phil’s family knew all about Phil’s… escapades.

“Nigel!” Mrs Lester reprimanded, as Phil groaned. Wide eyed, Dan turned back to Phil, completely floored, eyes twirling with questions. Phil met his gaze for less than a moment before shying away.

“No, but really,” Martyn added before anyone else could speak up. “It’s about time Phil asked Dan out. Did you know he hasn’t stopping talking about you in months? Dan this, Dan that,” he teased, voice going high pitched in a mock of Phil’s voice. Phil reached up to smack Martyn on the head, and caught him in a headlock. Martyn yelped in a fashion far too similar to the noise Phil made when Dan did the same thing to Phil.

“Shut up, Martyn!” Phil whined, masking his embarrassment as indignation.

Unable to help himself, and overcome with relieved elation, Dan started to laugh, reaching up to cover his mouth and praying that the tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes would just stop.

A warm hand touched Dan’s shoulder, and he turned to find Mrs. Lester smiling at him again.

“Welcome to the family, dear.”

Dan suddenly hoped that Mrs. Lester really had meant to imply that she thought this would last forever, because Dan hoped it would too.

“I wasn’t expecting them to accept me so easily,” Dan admitted, squeezing Phil’s fingers in his. “I wish my family were so cool with… everything. When I was going to specialists because of the,” Dan made a vague jacking-off gesture with his hand, blushing a little, “and the doctors first suggested I might be gay and I admitted I was bi… well, my parents were technically fine with it. At least, I think they were mostly fine with it. I’ve always thought… they were secretly holding out hope that I’d end up with a girl.” Dan bit his lip at the admission, the suspicion one Dan had yet to admit out loud.

Phil turned his head on the pillow next to Dan’s, a soft frown on his face. Dan tried to ignore it, terrified that Phil was staring at him in pity, but rolled his head to look at Phil anyway. Dan could never resist the call of Phil’s gaze on his.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Dan. I’m sure they just want you to be happy.”

Dan shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. It was a conversation he and Phil had had before - not about the whole sexuality thing, but the thing about Dan’s parents being so hard on him only because they wanted him to have a good life. Dan had heard all of the excuses before, and while he suspected that Phil was probably right, that didn’t stop his parents stubborn refusal to just let Dan be himself from hurting.

Dan’s dad was just kind of… not the easiest person to get along with. And his mum, well, she was great, but she worried far too much and always seemed to want Dan to stay on the safe, well-traveled path, where everyone went off to work in an office and made sure they got their taxes done on time. There was no room for adventure with Dan’s mum, no room for chasing dreams, no room for taking chances.

“Easy for you to say,” Dan sighed. “Your parents have always been supportive of everything you wanted to do, even YouTube, and they had no idea if that would pan out.”

Phil frowned, but didn’t argue the point. It was true that when Dan’s parents had found out he was pursuing YouTube, they’d been less than supportive. They’d agreed to let Dan keep it up as a hobby if and only if he agreed to go to law school in the fall. Dan’s agreement had been… taciturn, to put it lightly.

Nevertheless, he’d started applying to schools, the University of Manchester being his number one hope. He likely wouldn’t hear back until the summer, but it didn’t matter. Dan had made his parents happy, and gotten them off his back about filming videos.

“It’s okay, Phil. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Dan said after another awkward moment had passed. He reached up with the hand not holding Phil’s to cup his cheek, and nuzzled Phil’s nose with his own. Phil’s eyes fluttered shut. The pale lids of Phil’s eyes and his freckle-dotted cheeks were a wonderful sight, considering that Dan had gone ages being so far away from him.

Leaning in gently, Dan pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s lips, before drawing away.

“I missed you,” he whispered against Phil’s mouth. Phil’s lips quirked up, his breathing already accelerating from the one little kiss (and wow, Dan was never going to get over how he could take Phil apart, now).

“I missed you, too,” Phil reassured Dan, and kissed him again.

This time, Phil drew them into something deeper, something with a little more weight and feeling to it than the chaste kiss from before. Phil’s unoccupied hand moved to Dan’s hips, drawing their bodies closer, and he tightened his fingers around Dan’s hand in his. His tongue nudged at Dan’s bottom lip, encouraging him to let Phil press in close and suck at his bottom lip, moving their mouths together in a rhythm they were beginning to learn with each other.

Kissing Phil was becoming second nature - at this point, Dan knew how much pressure Phil liked, where Phil liked Dan to put his tongue, how Phil preferred long kisses to short ones - but, regardless, kissing Phil still sent shivers down Dan’s spine each and every time.

After Dan’s long absence, being back in Phil’s arms, back in his home, and back in his bed felt amazing. He’d only gotten to see Phil in person a few times: once on October 19th for three days when they’d officially gotten together, again on October 31st for the YouTuber Halloween Gathering, and then a once more in the middle of November for a weekend visit to Phil’s. The first trip had been something special that Dan would never forget, but the second had been… far too public for Dan’s taste, and had left him with a severe case of blue balls that he’d been too embarrassed to admit to Phil.

They’d stayed at one of Phil’s friends flat in London, before Dan had taken off on the seven o’clock train the following morning at his parents’ behest. He’d had an afternoon shift at the law office Dan’s father had gotten him an internship at, much to Dan’s displeasure, but he hadn’t complained. He’d gotten to see Phil again - just a week after he’d had to say goodbye. Even without hot sex and a rewarding orgasm at the end, Dan had been given the chance to not only cuddle his boyfriend, but to hug and kiss him in the darkness of the guest bedroom that night.

It was hard to be too disappointed at the night’s lack of sexual gratification when Dan so rarely got to see Phil in the flesh at all, so despite the awkward sensation of arousal Dan got from merely lying in bed with Phil, Dan had put up with the blue balls graciously enough (even if he did go home and try to wank immediately, the sensation a terrible disappointment when Dan got nothing but that horrible oversensitized sensation that had driven him away from masturbation in the first place).

The third time had been just as sexually unsatisfying. Phil’s parents had been home, and Dan had spent the majority of his time trying to win them over so that when Phil officially introduced Dan to them as his boyfriend, they wouldn’t already hate Dan altogether. If this afternoon was anything to go by, Dan’s efforts had definitely paid off, because not only had the Lesters been overjoyed to hear Dan was Phil’s boyfriend, but they hadn’t even argued against Dan staying in Phil’s room for the next two nights.

Still. Two months of blue balls after having gotten a good… uhm, couple orgasms at Phil’s that first visit had felt like entirely too much. Despite the fact that masturbation didn’t have a track record of successfully getting Dan off, he’d… well, tried again.

The sexual desire surging through him had just been too much.

Not long after Phil had first taught Dan that he needed to be penetrated, and practically ignore his cock, to reach orgasm, Dan had snuck out during his lunch break at the law office to visit an inconspicuous sex store he’d looked up on the internet, and bought himself a vibrating dildo. The packaging had been just as inconspicuous, enough for Dan to get it from the shop to his work to his bedroom without too much prying, but he hadn’t actually given the object a try until a few days after Halloween and the unsuccessful wank he’d had before buying the toy.

See, once Dan had gotten a taste for what it felt like to actually orgasm, it had become difficult for him to not crave that sensation again. Dan knew from years of experience, coupled with the comparison to what it felt like to actually get fucked, that a quick wank wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him, but Dan did know that fucking himself with a dildo might. So, after being deprived of any sexual attention after the Halloween gathering, Dan went home the next day, bought the toy a few days later, and after an agonizing shift at the law office, locked himself in his bedroom to try the vibrator out.

Suffice to say, it had worked.

Surprisingly.

It had taken a couple articles on how to have anal sex, and a lot of lube, to figure out how to fit the thing inside of him without hurting himself, and then he’d… well… gone off.

The resulting orgasm had been lackluster in comparison to the feeling of it being Phil inside of Dan, but it had been something, almost a moral booster to Dan, who’d been afraid that finally coming had all been a fluke. The sensation… hadn’t really been worth the hours of awkward fumbling around, however, and though Dan knew it would become easier with practice, he’d kind of given the toy, and wanking, up for the following two months.

Now he was back at Phil’s, though, with his boyfriend right next to him, his entire family downstairs, and it was beginning to look like there was no hope for any intimacy with Phil these next couple of days.

Groaning against Phil’s lips, Dan pulled away as he realized he was starting to grow... interested just from the kissing alone. Getting hard just from kissing wasn’t new to Dan, but it did hurt more this time considering how many times Dan had neglected to get off since the aborted dildo attempt. His dick just couldn’t take too much more teasing before it would explode.

How had Dan spent so long getting his girlfriend off without getting anything in return, but now he couldn’t handle going more than a few weeks without Phil? Dan was going insane, and it had only been two months. That was nothing compared to 18 years. Maybe it was because his body knew what it was missing now, but the longing was driving Dan mad.

“What’s that noise about?” Phil asked, stroking his fingers along the smooth,hairless side of Dan’s face, and breaking Dan from his thoughts. Lips parted, Dan stared up at Phil regretfully, and shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he lied, subtly shuffling his hips slightly farther away from Phil. How was he supposed to tell his boyfriend that he wanted to jump Phil’s bones, and the fact that he couldn’t was making his entire body absolutely ache? Dan scrunched up his nose in frustration, and sighed again.

Phil laughed at the expression, and reached a finger over to poke Dan’s nose. Dan’s face relaxed, and he smiled almost on instinct at the touch.

“You look cute when you do that.”

“Shut up,” Dan whined, releasing Phil’s fingers and rolling over. He pressed his face into Phil’s pillow, knees tucked against Phil’s thighs, and peeked out with one eye. “I’m not cute,” he said, hiding a smile.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Alright, you aren’t cute. You’re fit. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known,” he murmured, leaning in close as his voice lowered. His eyes were twinkling with mischief and his grin was more of a smirk as he moved so his face was as close to Dan’s hidden one as possible.

Narrowing his eyes, Dan peered out of the corner of his eyes at Phil suspiciously. Something wasn’t right…

Before Dan could so much as attempt to defend himself, Phil leaned in and nipped at his ear lobe.

“Hey!” Dan yelped, affronted. He reached for his ear to block it from any other attacks, and rolled over again so he was on his side, facing Phil. “What was that for!?”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Phil taunted, grinning unapologetically. “What’s going on in that silly little head of yours?”

Dan sighed. It was stupid, really. He should just be happy he was getting to spend any time with Phil, not complaining that he wasn’t getting any sex. He needed to stop thinking with his dick, and appreciate what the universe was giving him. The fact that his parents had let him book more train tickets so close to Christmas had been a miracle in and of itself, but Dan had been ready to throw a fit if they’d said no.

Still.

“It’s silly,” Dan stubbornly replied, burying his face back into Phil’s pillow. This time, he rolled over completely so that he was on his stomach and Phil wouldn’t be able to weasel anything more out of him. Or notice the semi that Dan was sporting.

Dan was sorely mistaken about Phil’s stubbornness, though.

The bed shifted as Phil moved. Dan wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but in the next moment, Phil’s fingers had found his sides, and he started tickling Dan mercilessly. Dan yelped, trying to curl in on himself and twist away from Phil’s fingers, but Phil wasn’t having any of that. He shuffled until he was straddling Dan’s bum, effectively pining him in place, and continued the movements of his fingers on Dan’s ribcage.

“Phil!” Dan whined.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, or I won’t stop!” Phil crowed back. His voice was a mixture of smug and amused as he laughed at Dan, fingers digging almost gently into Dan’s sides. The feeling in Dan’s abdomen they were creating was anything but gentle, though, and Dan found himself cackling hysterically into Phil’s pillow as he squirmed under Phil.

His lungs burned with the continued feeling of Phil’s torturous tickling, but Dan refused to give in. The confession was embarrassing and completely awkward, Phil didn’t need to know that Dan was desperate for Phil’s cock. Their relationship was supposed to be about more than sex, after all.

Unfortunately for Dan, being tickled was not the only thing he had to worry about. The feeling of Phil literally sitting on him seemed to be enough to get other parts of his body fully engaged in the current situation, and Dan found himself unexpectedly wheezing out a little moan as his quickly-hardening cock ground into the mattress below him.

Phil’s movements abruptly stopped, and Dan slumped into the pillows below with a relieved inhale of breath.

His chest was heaving, he was completely breathless, and his cock was quite literally throbbing in his jeans.

So much for keeping a hold over himself.

“Dan?” Phil asked, his voice a cautious question. “Are you okay?”

Dan shook his head, burying back into Phil’s pillow despite his current difficulty breathing, because he didn’t want to answer the question.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Phil asked, clearly unsure. Dan squeezed his eyes shut, because he hated that sound in Phil’s voice, hated knowing he’d made Phil feel like he’d done something wrong, when Phil never did anything wrong.

Except when he was being a tease over Skype, but they’d talked about that.

Turning his head a little for a quick inhale of air, Dan whispered, “No.”

Dan could practically feel Phil frowning on top of him. He was still sat on Dan’s bum, a warm weight on Dan’s arse, completely unaware of how that was affecting Dan.

“Then what’s wrong?” Phil asked, fingers finding the base of Dan’s skull and beginning to knead gently at the muscles there. Dan moaned, hips rocking against the mattress and body relaxing under the touch that Phil knew Dan liked a little too much. Damn him for using Dan’s weakness against him.

Dan’s dick pulsed in his jeans, and he groaned, burying his face back into Phil’s pillow.

Phil’s fingers kept kneading.

“Is this… turning you on, Dan?” Phil asked, voice soft, non-judgemental. “Are you maybe… a little sexually frustrated?” he continued. Dan expected Phil to sound teasing, the way he got on Skype sometimes when he knew that Dan was getting a little too excited about Phil’s flirting, but he didn’t. Instead, Phil sounded sweet, almost understanding, and it only made Dan’s cheeks heat up even more.

Slowly, he nodded his head.

Maybe, if he was just honest with Phil, Phil would understand and get off of his arse already. They couldn’t exactly… get up to anything with Phil’s entire family downstairs, after all.

Phil hummed thoughtfully in reaction, but he didn’t climb off of Dan. In fact, he seemed to settle more firmly on Dan’s bum, his fingers continuing to knead at the base of Dan’s skull. The touch sent shivers up Dan’s spine and made him feel boneless as he relaxed against the bed.

Dan turned his head so he could breathe, and let himself given in to the touch.

The room fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as Phil continued his ministrations, unoccupied hand moving to knead at Dan’s shoulder blades a little, working out the pain in the muscles. Phil didn’t seem to have a response to Dan’s little problem, and while he wasn’t doing anything to make it better, at least he wasn’t annoyed with Dan.

Some part of him still feared he’d wake up one day and Phil would be sick of dealing with him, or that he’d start acting like Dan’s ex, who’d cheated on him and never cared to put in any effort get Dan off. More often than not, Dan had just seemed to annoy her. The last thing he wanted was to annoy Phil, too.

Especially with this.

It wasn’t Dan’s fault he’d never been able to orgasm before. Phil was just… really good at pleasuring Dan, and had been the only partner to ever bother trying to help Dan, much less the only person to have ever been successful with that particular task. It made sense that Dan would want to continue that trend as often as possible. And besides, Phil was really fit. It was hard not to look at him and remember what it felt like to be kissing him, touching him, filled with him. Dan shuddered even just thinking about it, and bit his bottom lip in the hopes that the surge of pain would help calm his erection down.

It didn’t.

Phil didn’t seem to notice Dan’s thoughts had gone (even more) awry, though. He just continued to sit on top of Dan’s bum, knees on either side of Dan’s hips, and rub soothing circles into the base of Dan’s skull and his shoulder blades. It was actually kind of a lulling sensation, and despite the fact that Dan hadn’t been tired earlier, he was starting to feel a little bit drowsy. He hummed out a soft sound of contentment, and let Phil continue to pet him.

Dan wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Phil didn’t push the matter any further than he had earlier, allowing a comfortable silence to settle, and helping Dan to calm down as best as he could. It would have helped more if Phil had climbed off of Dan, but if Dan was being honest, he didn’t really want that either. He was far too invested in the wonderful feeling of Phil being pressed up against him in any way, regardless of how painful that made Dan’s balls as they tensed up against him in desire.

Eventually, though, Phil drew his hand free from Dan’s skull, and shifted down. Drifting a little in his half-state of unconsciousness, Dan didn’t have it in him to complain, and besides, Phil seemed to be draping himself over Dan’s back like a blanket, and that was definitely nice. Phil tucked his face into Dan’s neck on the opposite side to his face, close to where his fingers had been before, hot breath fanning out against sensitive skin.

Dan felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and he sighed. He hoped Phil wasn’t planning to move, because Dan rather liked this position. Soft lips grazed against Dan’s neck, warm and a little bit wet. There was an answering twitch from Dan’s cock, and then the familiar feeling of a wet tongue sliding along his throat, and warm lips settling in to suck at Dan’s neck.

“Ph-Phil?” Dan stuttered out, starting to regain awareness. His eyes flew open in surprise, and he tried to shift under Phil, confused and a little bit nervous, but Phil kept him pinned in place with his body. His hands had shifted to slide up and down Dan’s torso on top of his shirt, just under his armpits, while his mouth began to work at a spot a few inches below Dan’s ear.

“Mm?” Phil asked, voice amused. Dan shuddered at the way the sound rumbled against his skin, and added another layer to the slow building pleasure starting to scorch its way through Dan’s veins.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Dan asked, tripping over the words as a soft moan slipped past his lips. Dan ducked his face into the bed, trying to muffle the soft sounds he was beginning to make, while Phil laughed on top of him.

“Giving you what you wanted,” Phil finally replied after another few lazy kisses had been pressed to the back of Dan’s neck. Dan shuddered at the words, groaning into Phil’s sheets, and bucking his hips down. His cock twitched in his pants, very, very interested now. This was hardly fair. Phil was getting Dan worked up while his parents were downstairs. Wasn’t he afraid they were going to hear?

Dan wasn’t exactly quiet, and besides, the door was still cracked open. Phil hadn’t tried very hard to shut it when they’d walked in, after all.

Regardless of this embarrassing knowledge, Phil’s lips moved from Dan’s neck and trailed up the back of his head to the space behind Dan’s ear. His breath was hot there, causing Dan to let out a surprised whoosh of air, before Phil began speaking again.

“I wonder how quiet you can be, Daniel,” Phil whispered, snaking his hands under Dan’s body and pressing his fingers against his chest. At first, the movement felt aimless, but then Dan realized what Phil was looking for when his fingers passed insistently over Dan’s nipples. Dan hissed out a whimper of pleasure, body twitching against his will.

“Fuck, Phil, I don’t…” Dan shook his head. God, was he really about to argue against doing this, when it was all he’d been able to think about for two months? He hadn’t gotten even remotely enough intimate time with Phil, and skype sex had been completely off the table on Dan’s orders, which Phil gracefully obeyed. Now, though, now Dan was terrified of the fact that Phil’s family was home.

What was the point of all of Dan’s hard work spent getting Phil’s family to like him if Phil was going to fuck Dan under the same roof as them? If Phil was going to risk them hearing exactly what Dan and Phil sounded like during sex?

Yeah. No thank you.

Except - yes please. Dan’s body was screaming for it. He and Phil had gone another round (or two) before he’d had to leave for his train that last day when they’d had the house to themselves, but that hadn’t been nearly enough to Dan’s starved body (or his mind, because let’s be real, Dan was just as much mentally into this as he was physically). Saying no to finally getting what he wanted was fucking hard. Impossible.

“Phil, you asshole,” Dan muttered as Phil continued to press kisses against the back of his neck, his ear, the rough line of his throat where it was exposed, the sharp crevice of his shoulder… Phil’s lips were molten heat against Dan, an incredible feeling that was ultimately going to make Dan give in.

Phil chuckled, but still didn’t respond. Not verbally at least. He did, however, latch onto a spot just beneath Dan’s shirt and suck insistently. He seemed far too intent on breaking down Dan’s resolve, and if Dan was being honest with himself, Phil had already won.

Dan just didn’t want to cave that easily, so he whined a little and arched his back against Phil’s body, shrugging Phil’s mouth off his shoulder. Phil followed the movement, fingers still dancing along Dan’s torso, and reaching down to catch on the hem of his shirt. Dan’s body froze at the touch, a little surprised at how forward Phil was being, and wilted back into the bed.

“Ugh, fuck, Phil, fine, just… jesus fuck, please,” Dan whined, rocking his hips forward. “I’ve been waiting months for you to fuck me again, so just get on with it.”

“Eager, are we?” Phil asked, clearly amused, a husky laugh rasping against Dan’s skin. “I didn’t realize you wanted me so much,” he teased, licking a little stripe of Dan’s skin. “But I mean it, Dan. You’re going to have to be quiet if you want this.”

Dan nodded his head instantly, already knowing that he was going have to focus on reigning in his inability to be silent in intimate moments such as these. At this point, he’d do anything to feel Phil inside of him again, and he moaned as softly as he could when Phil shifted off of him so he was sat on Dan’s thighs, rather than draped over his back.

Phil’s fingers, already grasping the hem of Dan’s shirt, yanked it upwards. Dan arched his body with it, desperate to have the restricted clothing off of him already, and shuffled his arms around so Phil could tear it off of him. It was a bit of a struggle to remove the fabric, something that made Phil laugh and Dan huff out in annoyance, but eventually it was flung off the bed and Phil had returned to leaning over Dan, fluttering kisses across his now-bare shoulder blades.

Fuck, fuck, what if someone chose that moment to walk in? What were they doing fucking with the door cracked open?

“Mm, how do you want it?” Phil asked, lips trailing back up to Dan’s ear so he could whisper the question there, words erasing all worries from Dan’s mind. “What did you like best last time?”

Dan’s mouth fell open at the very thought of the last few times. Phil had taken him in every position Dan had known existed (and a few that Dan hadn’t), but there was one thing they hadn’t actually tried.

Despite Dan craving the idea of Phil taking him rough and hard from the very beginning, discarding the gentle, perfect, in-control part of his personality and replacing it with something more akin to the passionate flirt Dan knew Phil could be, they hadn’t actually gone at it in anywhere close to too rough. Phil had been far too careful for that, and Dan had revealed in the affectionate touches.

Now, though… now seemed like the perfect time.

“From behind,” Dan blurted out. He was panting just at the thought of it. Phil had taken him that way before, the morning after, but that had been slow and sweet and consisted of Phil laying on top of Dan. This time, Dan wanted something different. “Doggy style,” he added, feeling a surge of heat rush through him when the words made Phil choke.

Dan hoped it was a good choke.

“I want you to fuck me hard, Phil. I want to still be able to feel you when I get home.” The words, a lot less sexy when spoken aloud, were nonetheless a sentiment that Dan couldn’t help holding onto. He wanted some kind of reminder that Phil was his, some kind of reminder that this had happened, and it was real.

So yeah, Dan wanted rough, and he didn’t even mind if it hurt to sit for a couple of days afterward.

Phil groaned at the words, biting down on Dan’s shoulder where his lips had moved while he’d waited for a response from Dan. His hips shifted on top of Dan a little, nudging Phil’s bulge into the cleft of Dan’s arse, and reassuring him that Phil was just as interested in that idea as Dan was.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Phil whispered, releasing Dan’s skin and kissing over it. “Not gonna hurt you though,” Phil added, like the gentlemen he was, and leaned back up to kiss at the side of Dan’s neck. Before Dan could get too into the touch, Phil rolled off of Dan, and got off the bed entirely.

Dan turned to watch Phil move, eyes drawn to the bulge in his jeans and the fact that Phil was just as excited as Dan. The fact still managed to amaze Dan sometimes, despite the absurd amount of times they’d had sex over the course of three days alone, and the skype calls where Phil admitted to being late because he’d had to take care of… something in the bathroom.

His cheeks were always gloriously flushed, and his body adorably relaxed. Dan couldn’t decide if he was more jealous or happy in those moments, but he figured both was a fine middle ground.

Phil shuffled around his room, thankfully finally noticing that the door was open, and closed it softly. Dan heard the distinctive sound of a lock turning, and then Phil was moving to dig around in the bottom drawer of his dresser where he’d promised to keep the lube, condoms, and latex gloves from now on. He’d claimed it was just less embarrassing to have them in the restroom than his mum finding them hidden in his bedroom, but Dan did not give a shit. They needed to be closer for future events.

Such as this one.

Once the items had been retrieved, Phil returned to the bed and dropped them next to where Dan was laying. Rather than joining Dan, however, Phil started to scramble out of his clothes, messily pulling his shirt over his head before beginning to shimmy out of his jeans and pants. Despite not wanting to move, Dan rolled over to follow Phil’s movements, and attempted to drag his own jeans off of his legs.

Phil finished undressing before Dan despite the fact that Dan already wasn’t wearing a shirt, and pressed in close to kiss him, preventing Dan from getting the jeans any further down than his thighs. Phil’s lips were wet and open as he showed Dan just how excited he was. The sight of his erect cock had been proof enough, but Dan wasn’t going to complain about the kiss when it felt so good. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough kisses from Phil today.

He’d arrived at noon at Manchester Piccadilly, and had spent the entire afternoon with Phil and his family, so there hadn’t really been anytime for making out. Dan was definitely content to make up for lost time now.

Dan continued to fumble with his jeans, though, desperate to have them off. His body was already surging with arousal, the memory of what it felt like to be with Phil both fresh and not fresh enough. He was so fucking ready to feel it again, to have it ingrained in his memory. Dan hoped one day there wouldn’t be enough time between intimate moments like this for Dan to forget how good Phil felt inside of him.

As Phil kissed Dan within an inch of his life, Dan struggled with his jeans, groping unattractively under Phil. His knees flailed a little, nearly jabbing Phil in a very, very sensitive place, but it only made Phil laugh and pull away. Dan’s cheeks were flushed in a combination of embarrassment and arousal, but he found himself smiling back at Phil anyway.

His boyfriend was doing that thing with his tongue where he bit down on it a little when he laughed, part of the cute little muscle sticking out the side of his mouth. It was absolutely adorable, and so fucking human that it made moments like these feel so much more real. When Dan and his ex used to have sex, it had always been a bit more awkward, a bit more clumsy, and with far less humor. The goal had been nothing more than getting off. Well, or trying to at least.

Sex with Phil was fun, though, and even being nearly kneed in the balls wasn’t enough to turn Phil off.

This was how sex should be.

“Here, let me help you,” Phil insisted, crawling off of Dan and reaching for his jeans. He was far more successful at getting the skin tight fabric free from Dan’s legs, but he wasn’t trying to do so while someone else kissed the life out of them. Dan chose not to comment, however, and once he was fully stripped of his clothes and completely naked, he reached for Phil once more and drew him into another kiss.

Phil’s body fit wonderfully against Dan’s. It had been nice when he’d been draped over Dan’s back earlier, and nice when he’d first climbed over Dan to kiss him, but being naked with Phil was something else entirely. The way their bodies seemed to fit was just perfection, skin on skin, and cocks rubbing against cocks. Dan’s hips undulated upwards as Phil’s rocked downwards, encouraging a little bit of frottage that they honestly never got to do nearly enough, all while Dan got his fill of Phil’s mouth.

Dan knew that once he rolled over, he wasn’t going to get to kiss Phil again for some time, so he was taking advantage of the moment. Phil wasn’t complaining, though, fingers rucking up through Dan’s hair and pulling lightly while they kissed, his bodyweight entirely rested on top of Dan so that he could touch him everywhere while they kissed.

Dan’s hands scrabbled at Phil’s waist, groping his bum a little because he never got to touch Phil there enough, and skimming up to tease at his lower back and his ribcage. Phil, true to his word so long ago, was very sensitive there, groaning into Dan’s neck and rocking his hips down particularly hard that time. The motion further encouraged Dan, who kept the movements of his fingers up, dancing alongside Phil’s ribs, and working him up into as much of a frenzy as Dan could manage.

His own cock was beginning to ache with arousal. The feeling of slick skin against slick skin was soon to be both too much and not enough, Dan was sure, but he thought he could put up with a bit more for the sake of staying in this moment. He quite liked how Phil felt against him, on top of him, grinding into him and shaking at the feeling of Dan’s fingers on his sides. Any chance to make Phil fall apart was a win in Dan’s book, and worth any kind of oversensitivity he might get as a result.

Besides. Even if the touches to his dick became too much, both Dan and Phil knew how to take care of Dan so that he’d finish anyway. It wasn’t the issue that Dan had always worried it would be, and he was eternally grateful.

Phil started to pant against Dan’s mouth, the kisses becoming more and more sloppy as Phil’s movements became a little less coordinated. Clearly giving up on making out, Phil trailed his lips across Dan’s chin, and started to nibble at his jaw.

“Are you trying to wind me up?” he asked, voice practically a growl. Dan had to restrain himself from biting out too loud of a sound in reaction to that, and nodded his head, deliberately running his hands along Phil’s ribs again.

“Is it working?” he whispered, the sound half a gasp. Phil groaned in response, and bit down harder on Dan’s jaw line.

Dan reached up to shove his hand into his mouth, slamming his eyes shut to prevent himself from whining loudly.

God, he wasn’t used to having to be discreet during sex. It had never felt as good as it did with Phil, so Dan had never really had cause to force himself to be silent before, but now, now. Phil was going to kill him.

Dan needed to shut up.

Chuckling as he noticed Dan’s move to silence himself, Phil trailed his mouth lower over Dan’s jaw, and down to his neck, where he pressed another few kisses before drawing away entirely.

Dan had to muffle a groan of protest, and stared up at Phil, wide eyed.

“Turn over,” Phil insisted. “I don’t think I can… God, Dan. I really want you.”

The words went straight to Dan’s dick. His balls curled up against him, so fucking full already, and pleasure ricocheted throughout his body. Dan’s body was wracked with a full body shudder as he moved to roll over. He knew exactly what Phil had stopped himself from saying.

He couldn’t wait any longer. But neither could Dan.

Who needed foreplay when he was about to be filled with Phil.

Besides, wasn’t two months without this kind of touch enough foreplay?

Once on his stomach, Dan shifted to get up on his hands knees. Phil reached around him to encourage Dan to rest on his elbows instead, pushing down on his low back to help get him into position, and forced Dan’s legs further apart. His touches were a little more rough than Phil usually allowed them to be (not that Dan minded), revealing just how turned on Phil currently was.

Dan hoped that meant Phil wouldn’t take it easy on him this time. Dan really wanted to know what it would feel like to have Phil completely fall apart inside of him.

“Try to stay like that or you might fall. I don’t want to hurt you,” Phil insisted. His voice was gravelly with desire as he shifted behind Dan, presumably grabbing a glove and the lube. Far beyond caring about the mess it could make to have anal sex, Dan didn’t say a word of complaint, and merely waited for Phil to get started.

He could feel goosebumps of anticipation forming on his skin already. He was shivering a little, tense with desire, cock beginning to twitch angrily between his legs. It had been so long since Dan had gotten off, now… he was so fucking ready for it.

Dan wondered if he’d go boneless like the first time, if his vision would black out and he’d give in to the natural desire to relax completely when his orgasm rushed over him, or if he’d muddle through it while he and Phil curled up together, mind very much so aware of the feeling coursing through him.

Dan whimpered at the thought, and had to shove his face into the sheets below him to muffle the sound.

“Shh,” Phil whispered. It sounded like he was grinning, or suppressing laughter. Dan was tempted to reach behind himself and flip Phil off.

But he wasn’t supposed to move. He was supposed to stay just like this… God, the thought of obeying Phil’s every order was hot. Maybe they should try that out sometime. Right now, though, Dan needed to focus on relaxing his body some, because he could hear the telltale sounds of Phil slicking up his fingers, and Dan was not in the mood for the prep to take all night.

One of Phil’s hands found Dan’s hip, nudging into the cleft and holding on tight, while his thumb reached down to spread Dan’s arse cheek and expose him to Phil’s sight, which always made Dan’s cheeks pink. It just seemed so… intimate.

Slowly, Phil began to circle a finger around Dan’s rim, and leaned in close to press a litter of kisses against the small of Dan’s back.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

The words sent a spark of affection and lust straight through Dan, who did his best to calm his body down enough to accept Phil’s finger. Dan wanted this so badly, however, it was difficult to do at first, and he ended up having to take a few deep breaths to untense his body. Phil waited patiently all the while, unwilling to press forward until he knew that Dan was comfortable.

Phil seemed to know Dan’s body pretty well though - or maybe he could just feel it - as the moment Dan relaxed, Phil pressed one finger inside, and began to stretch Dan open.

The feeling of Phil’s finger inside of Dan was never going to get old. Dan shoved his face into Phil’s bed at the first nudge of it against his walls, pleasure spiking through him faster and faster each time they did this. It was like Dan’s body knew what was coming and didn’t care to work itself up anymore, sending Dan head first into bliss before they’d even properly gotten started.

It made prepping him easier, though. Dan was coming to learn that the more they did this, the easier it would get, and the more frequently, the less tight Dan’s body would be. Overtime, it would start to tighten back up, but that was fine, because it wasn’t difficult to get it used to the feeling again. Dan had learned they would always need lube, though, and that condoms were the easiest source of clean up, even if bareback did sound good. Maybe someday.

Sinking into the feeling of Phil stretching him open, Dan did his best to muffle his sounds into Phil’s bed covers. He was still loud to his own ears, though, and a few times even heard Phil chuckle and shush him from behind, working diligently to prepare Dan for his cock. Dan felt kind of bad for being so loud, but it was hardly his fault.

Phil was the one who’d shown Dan what real pleasure could feel like.

As Phil moved to shift a second finger inside of Dan, and begin to press deeper inside, looking for that special spot inside of Dan, Dan started to grind his hips backwards. From this position, on his hands and knees, it was easier than ever before, and Dan moaned loudly into the bed.

“Dan!” Phil reprimanded, “You have to be quiet, baby. Come on, we don’t want my parents to hear you, right?” he added, partially teasing.

Dan gurgled in response, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of Phil inside of him. It was just so fucking good, and he knew he needed to shut the fuck up, but it was hard. It had been so long since Dan had gotten to feel this, and it was so much better than he’d remembered, so much better than his own awkward exploration when he’d tried the toy on himself. It sent intense waves of gratification up and down Dan’s body, making his cock ache as it hung between his legs, unable to even get any satisfaction by rubbing against the fabric of Phil’s sheets.

It was for the best. Dan could feel himself starting to dribble precum, leaking onto the covers beneath him, and he really didn’t want to get over sensitive before Phil had even had a chance to fuck him like he’d promised.

Forehead beaded with sweat, hair probably a fucking mess, Dan nonetheless ground his hips backwards harder still. Dan wondered for a moment how he looked to Phil, if Phil was staring at him with lust filled eyes, or if he was humping the air unconsciously with the desire to be inside of Dan.

The thought sent another wave of arousal through Dan’s veins, and he did his best to muffle a grandiose moan into the sheets.

“Holy fuck, Dan, I haven’t even found your prostate yet,” Phil grunted. His lips, which had left Dan’s body to focus on the task at hand, returned, biting down on the little dip in Dan’s back, and sucking a mark there. Phil’s mouth was harsh and wet, and it was obvious he was beside himself with desire for Dan. The thought made Dan moan again, shoving himself backwards even harder on Phl’s fingers.

Finally, the pads rubbed against Dan’s prostate, waking the nerves up, and causing Dan to dig his nails so hard into Phil’s bedsheets he thought he was going to tear them. It took monumental effort it took to stay noiseless .

“That’s it,” Phil whispered, “That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on me,” he gasped, still mouthing along Dan’s back, lips trailing up further, and then back down, until he was back where he’d started, nibbling on the same bit of skin he’d first marked. Dan imagined it would be a horrible, wonderful purple by the time they were finished tonight, but he didn’t care. It just meant Dan would go home with a reminder of Phil seared into his skin. He’d have to make sure his shirt didn’t ride up in front of Phil’s family, though.

The words, though, the words were… a lot. Phil hadn’t tried to hard to talk dirty to Dan since they’d messed around on Skype, always seeming either too overwhelmed or too in control to say much to Dan. Now, though, it was like that guy Dan had thought was a fucking sex god was back, and it was beyond seductive. Phil was fucking hot, provocative not just in his movements, and his touch, but in his words, too, and Dan didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.

Now that Phil had found his prostate, he didn’t seem inclined to move away from it. He quirked his fingers to rub roughly against the bundle of nerves, pressing deeper and deeper inside of Dan still, all while Dan did his best to keep up the rocking motion of hips and keep the satisfying feeling of fucking Phil’s fingers surging through him. His eyes were closed, breathing a goddamn wreck as he panted into Phil’s bedsheets, a constant stream of nonsense falling from his lips.

Phil wasn’t shushing him this time, so Dan assumed he was doing a pretty good job of keeping hushed.

Phil finger fucking him seemed to last forever. For a moment, Dan was so lost to the sensation that he was starting to wonder if he wasn’t going to get that prostate massage after all, but eventually, Phil pulled his fingers free, much to the displeasure of Dan, and rolled the glove off his hand.

The sound of a condom wrapper opening, followed by the bottle of lube, sent another shiver of desire up Dan’s spine.

He wondered if Phil’s hands were shaking, and groaned into the bed.

“Fuck. You’re such a fucking cockslut, Dan,” Phil rasped, voice fucking wrecked. “So fucking ready for me, aren’t you? Can’t fucking wait,” he added, gasping the words out as his hand slipped over his dick. Dan could hear the wet sounds of Phil jerking himself off, and whined as he shoved his face further into the bed, and thrusted his arse backwards in an attempt to entice Phil.

Clearly it worked.

Phil let out a growl at the sight, and finally reached for Dan again. One hand found Dan’s ribs, holding him still, as Phil’s cock head nudged at Dan’s rim, already beginning to spread it open lightly. Dan shuddered at the sensation, fucking gagging for it. Phil felt so good against him. He wasn’t lying against Dan the way he’d laid on him the last time they’d fucked in a similar position, but he seemed to be standing on his knees, ready to fuck into Dan the way Dan had seen pornstars do it. Dan couldn’t deny that the mental image sent another shock of desire through him that nearly caused him to throw his head back, but he forced it to stay planted firmly against Phil’s bed lest he scream out Phil’s name.

“God, you look good like this,” Phil gasped, rocking against Dan, but not quite pushing in just yet. “Wish you could see yourself…” Phil let out a soft grunting noise that bordered on a moan, a sound of which Dan treasured. He felt his mouth loll open, and felt himself beginning to drool, but there was really no stopping it at that point.

Phil had completely and utterly destroyed Dan, and he hadn’t even pressed inside of him yet.

“Actually fucking you is so much better than watching myself fuck you,” Phil admitted, and finally started to press inside of Dan. The combination of words, the confession that Phil still watched their inadvertent sex type, and the sensation of Phil stretching Dan open with his cock, forced another lewd noise out of Dan that Phil had to shush. Dan couldn’t seem to help it, though. He had next to no control over the volume of his voice at this point, let alone whatever came out of it, and it was, when it came right down to it, Phil’s. Fucking. Fault.

Dan wasn’t going to say that, though, because that would mean Phil not fucking him, and hell if they were going to get this far without the main event.

Just as slowly as ever, Phil pushed inside of Dan, rocking his hips gently and trying his best not to hurt him. Over the sound of Dan’s own loud breathing, he thought he could hear Phil grunting, holding his breath and gritting his teeth as he fought to maintain control. As much as Dan appreciated it, he couldn’t wait for Phil to let go in a moment.

He hoped to god that Phil would let go.

Each slow push of Phil’s cock into Dan was near torture. The sparks of pleasure were amazing, but Dan knew they could be so much better, and he wanted to get to the part where Phil fucked him already. At the same time, everything felt so good that Dan couldn’t, in his right mind, complain. He just wanted to live in this moment forever.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed out on this for two fucking months. How dare the universe keep this from him? Didn’t it know how wonderful this felt? Clearly not.

By the time Phil stopped moving, hips flush with Dan’s arse, Dan was already a little bit out of his mind, and completely out of breath. Phil’s hands had both moved to grip tight to Dan’s hips, the touch much rougher than it had ever been before. Phil’s breathing was uneven and far breathier than normal, hinting that Phil was losing it too, and Dan could feel the edges of his vision beginning to blur, even in the darkness of the covers where he’d pressed his face.

The world was shaking, just a little bit. Or was that Dan?

“God, Dan,” Phil groaned. His vocabulary seemed to be reduced to nothing more than that. He ended up grunting out another sound, but no words formed, and Phil’s hips jerked a little, but remained mostly in place.

Why wasn’t Phil fucking him yet?

Dan shoved his arse backwards, reveling in the way it made Phil whimper, and did it again, and again, and again, because he was sick of waiting.

Phil leaned over Dan’s body and nipped his shoulder.

“Gonna fuck you,” Phil grunted.

When he pulled back, Dan couldn’t help whimpering in protest. He liked how it felt to have Phil towering over him, covering Dan’s body with his own. All thought of protest fled his mind, however, when Phil started to move.

Phil’s hips jerked back, a little uncontrolled, and then shoved back in, the pace unexpected and rather sudden, even for Dan. It wasn’t bad though. No, far from it. It was fucking sexy, and Dan had to muffle his cries of pleasure into Phil’s bedsheets as Phil set a brutal pace.

The sound of their skin slapping together echoed in the little room. Dan wondered if it was this loud anywhere else, but couldn’t focus long enough to worry, because Phil was giving Dan exactly what he’d wanted. He wasn’t taking it easy, he wasn’t taking it slow. This was raw, and desperate, and good. So fucking good.

Everything with Phil was good.

Dan wanted to fucking worship him.

Tears sprang to Dan’s eyes as pleasure coursed through him, building faster and faster with each passing moment. The feeling was different from when Phil had fucked him more calmly the last few times, far more in control then than he was now, but it wasn’t necessarily a better different. It was just different. In the same way Phil fucking him had felt different to Dan fucking his ex-girlfriend, in terms of the way the pleasure built inside of him, Phil fucking Dan like this felt different.

Just as good, but far more unexpected.

Dan didn’t know what was going to happen. All he knew was that Phil better not run out of energy before he’d fucked Dan to orgasm, or Dan thought he might strangle him (later, when Dan was a bit more sound of mind, he’d take that back, because he knew that Dan was much harder to please as a lover than most others, but in that moment, Dan didn’t give a damn).

Phil’s thrusts seemed to speed up as the moments slipped by, his hips slamming faster and faster into Dan’s, cock brushing against Dan’s inner walls with increasing tension. He hadn’t quite found Dan’s prostate yet, which was a bit frustrating, so Dan started to shift his hips around in the hope that he could help Phil find it.

Phil didn’t protest. He tightened his fingers around Dan’s hips, but let him move as he would. Phil was gasping, hands sweaty, and movements a little less coordinated than Dan was used to. The rhythm was off, especially when Dan seemed to get a hold of himself enough to start fucking Phil back, mostly just stuttery and overall messy.

It didn’t matter, though. It only seemed to add to the moment for Dan. Phil’s balls were slapping against him, and Phil had completely lost control. It was a side of Phil that Dan wanted to see more of in the future, even though he did love the affectionate, sweet Phil that he was starting to see more and more of these days as well. He loved that side of Phil dearly. In terms of sex, though, Dan wanted to see every version of Phil he could get.

Finally, Dan seemed to shift into just the right position, and Phil’s dick started to rub against his prostate with every thrust. The feeling increased Dan’s pleasure tenfold, and he practically howled into Phil’s bedsheets, preventing the sound from traveling by biting down hard on his bottom lip, and shoving his face so roughly into the bed that he nearly stopped his own breathing. Phil let out a whimpery little gasping sound in reaction, making it clear that he’d heard Dan’s noise, and began to fuck him harder, holding Dan tightly in place so Phil drove his cock into the same spot over and over and over.

Phil’s fingers started to spasm on Dan’s hips as his orgasm neared. It was a tell Dan was becoming familiar with, and one that made his heart swoop with disappointment. Phil, who’d been holding himself up on his knees, collapsed onto Dan’s back, shifting so that his hips were more angled, brushing against his prostate instead of hitting it, so that Phil could hold himself up a little while he fucked into Dan. Dan didn’t complain, so long as Phil didn’t stop fucking him.

He knew that was going to become a problem soon, though. Phil’s thrusts had become completely uncoordinated, and so sloppy that he was pressed inside of Dan more often then he was out. That building pressure in Dan’s abdomen was still building, faster than ever before, and yet not peaking like Dan had thought it would. It just kept going, burning like molten heat in his stomach and making Dan feel so close to oversensitive but not quite. Instead, he just felt overwhelmed with the desire to touch himself.

He didn’t, though. He wanted to hold onto this moment, wanted to come untouched like he had every other time with Phil, wanted to keep himself from tipping over into that horrible place where the orgasm ebbed away forcefully, suddenly, and left Dan feeling raw to the bone. He wanted the feeling to keep building, and he wanted to tumble over the otherside with no further help.

Phil moaned against Dan’s neck.

“Can-Can’t Dan, I’m gonna…”

Dan whined, upset at the words. Phil had held out so well for him the last few times. Dan didn’t want Phil to come before him, didn’t want Phil to stop fucking him, and yet at the same time, Dan knew it was inevitable. He shoved his face into the covers, and relaxed further, nodding his head as best as he could to let Phil know it was okay.

Phil groaned in relief, and started to fuck Dan harder, grinding his hips into Dan’s, and letting himself become even more uncontrolled. His dick pressed deeper and deeper into Dan, and as Phil refused to pull back and thrust properly anymore, Dan knew Phil’s orgasm was coming.

When it washed over him, Phil bit down on Dan’s shoulder with an almost-too-loud moan that Dan would never tire of hearing, and slumped on top of Dan.

Dan, for his part, collapsed onto the bed, disappointed. He hadn’t even known if he was close, but he hadn’t wanted to stop, and -

“Get on top of me,” Phil insisted, breathless. Dan felt his body shake as he tried to roll off of Dan, gasping as he managed it and collapsed on the bed next to him. “Dan - fucking - ride me!”

Cock throbbing between his legs, Dan did his best to scramble on top of Phil and do as he’d been told, the idea growing inside of Dan and making his cock twitch between this legs. His thighs shook and he nearly fell on top of Phil in his rush to mount him, but Dan was too fucking gone to care. He didn’t look back, he merely reached behind himself blindly and wrapped his fingers around the latex covered cock, and did his best to ignore what the condom most likely had on it.

Now was not the time to worry about that. Now was the time to find release.

Shifting his hips backwards, and trying to find the right position without Phil’s help, Dan did his best to nudge Phil’s cock back inside of him. It took a lot more work than Dan would have liked it to have, but Phil was completely out of it below him, eyes closed, fringe pushed back in a quiff, face red and covered in sweat.

Dan couldn’t expect anything from Phil post orgasm like that.

But he was definitely going to ride Phil to his own orgasm.

Finally managing to get the angle right, Dan shifted his hips down, and groaned as Phils cock filled him. Hands now officially unsanitary, even after wiping them on the covers, Dan bit down hard on his bottom lip to maintain his noises, and started to ride Phil in earnest, bracing himself with both palms pressed firmly to Phil’s thighs.

The sounds Phil made in response were…. tantalizing. The seemingly unconscious, breathy little whimpers shook Dan to his core as he fucked himself down on Phil’s cock, riding him as best as he could when his thighs were twitching and his body was clenching down, ready to come. His orgasm was right there, right there, Dan was sure of it, he just couldn’t quite find it.

Dan couldn’t believe Phil was allowing Dan to ride him like this. Dan couldn’t even begin to imagine how overstimulated Phil must be. He’d just come, and with every little whimper Dan became more and more aware of what Phil was giving Dan in order for Dan to come. He couldn’t be any more grateful.

Dan’s prostate was hiding from him, making reaching oragasm even harder. Dan didn’t have it in him to go on a proper search, though, so he merely fucked himself on Phil, and let it all happen. His hands landed on the bed on either side of Phil’s body as Dan pitched forward, angling his body more to take more of Phil’s dick, and really got himself going. Dan could hear the slick slide of Phil in and out of him, could feel the way his body was gaping around Phil, and it was good, it was so good.

Dan just wanted to come. He never wanted this feeling to end but at the same time he wanted that release, that feeling of euphoria exploding through his veins, that wonderful sensation of an ending that made his toes curl and his breath catch in his throat.

He just needed a little more. A little more, fuck, please, please.

Dan bit so hard on his bottom lip that he started to bleed. He could taste it. But it was the only way to keep himself muffled without shoving a dirty hand into his mouth, and even if Dan was half out of his mind with pleasure, there was no way he was doing that.

Phil would just have to kiss it better later.

Heat coiled tighter and tighter inside of Dan, buliding beyond a place Dan thought it could build. His cock was weeping between his legs, desperate to come, and Dan couldn’t blame it. He was desperate too. He wanted nothing more than release, but it was so fucking hard.

Dan would have felt bad for Phil if he weren’t so busy feeling bad for himself.

And then it happened. Dan shoved his hips backwards onto Phil’s cock, and consequently struck his prostate dead on. His eyes flew open as he gasped, the sound next to breathless, and empty.

Dan felt his vision start to blur, and his head go light and dizzy, that familiar tug in his abdomen pulling tight, as release washed over him. The feeling was like a punch in the stomach, pulling Dan under before he could properly see it coming. His dick twitched and spurted as he came all over Phil’s stomach and chest, his body melting as heat surged through his veins.

Dan groaned, releasing his bottom lip, as he pitched forward on top of Phil, and rode his arse backwards to work himself through his orgasm. He could feel his thigh muscles tightening up and beginning to cramp, but even that was adding to the sensation of pleasure coursing through Dan’s body, making the high that much better, as Dan panted against Phil’s neck. His toes curled as he fucked himself down one last time, forcing Phil to bury his cock deep, and relaxed, breathless, on top of his boyfriend.

Everything about the orgasm was better than Dan had remembered, everything about Phil’s body pressed tight to his, and his cock buried deep, was better than the last time. God, had Dan missed this. Dan never wanted to let this go, never wanted to pull away from Phil or go another day without him.

But he knew he would have to. At least for a little while longer.

If Phil’s words could be believed, then one day, they’d live together and never have to leave each other’s sides again.

Below him, Phil let out a huge sigh as he reached up to wrap his arms around Dan’s body, dragging him in closer still.

“Fuck,” he croaked out.

Dan laughed, the sound giddy and out of it, as he pressed a kiss to whatever part of Phil he was currently laying on top of.

“Fuck, indeed,” Dan agreed. He tucked his face against the crook of Phil’s neck, and kissed his neck lazily. “God, Phil, that was hot.”

Phil hummed, turning his head to drop a kiss on top of Dan’s head. “Not as hot as you are.”

Dan rolled his eyes. Phil was chuckling softly at his own lame joke, and Dan was grinning, because Phil… Phil was something special. He made sex feel like something they could joke about, and something they could relax from in each others arms without any awkward worries or conversations afterwards.

Then Dan remembered the state of his hands, and the fact that he’d wiped them all over Phil’s bed, and he giggled.

“Wait until you see the mess we’ve made.”

Phil groaned, but his arms tightened around Dan’s body, so he figured Phil didn’t really mind. Dan allowed himself to snuggle further down against Phil’s chest, but he did his best to refrain from touching Phil with his dirty hands.

They were really going to need a shower in a second.

Before Dan could so much as fully process that thought, a knock came at Phil’s bedroom door. Phil tensed underneath Dan, and Dan felt his heart stop dead in his chest.

This was it. This was the moment. Phil’s parents had heard, and Dan and Phil were fucked. Dan sucked in a terrified breath, convinced Mrs. Lester was going to ask to see them downstairs, and then Dan was going to be sent on his merry way, home far earlier than Dan had wanted.

Had the sex been worth their time being cut short?

Now was not that time for Dan to ask himself that.

“Hey loverboy, dinner’s ready. Hurry up and get cleaned up before you come down. You’re lucky mum sent me up rather than coming herself, and you’re lucky I’m used to hearing you with your paramours or I’d be far less inclined to knock on your door before mum came looking herself. Glad this one’s at least staying.”

It took a moment for the realization that it was Martyn at the door to sink in, and even longer for Dan to understand what he’d actually said, but once he did, he found himself melting instantly on top of Phil. Phil groaned, his neck turning a deep shade of red, as he, too, let Martyn’s words sink in.

“We’ll be out in a sec!” Phil shouted back, voice high pitched with embarrassment. He didn’t acknowledge anything else that Martyn had said, but Martyn didn’t call him out for it. Instead, he laughed, the sound fading away as he very clearly retreated back downstairs.

Dan, high on the fact that they’d hopefully gotten away with the events of the evening, just snuggled further into Phil, and laughed, because the entire moment just felt so fucking surreal.

“So… you brought a lot of boys home, then?”

Phil groaned again, and shoved Dan off of him, face and neck such a dark shade of red that Dan almost felt bad for teasing him.

Almost.

“What, your family all seem to be pretty happy I’m not just another one night stand,” Dan taunted, though there was a part of him that was overjoyed with that fact too.

“Dan!” Phil reprimanded, turning to frown at him, despite the fact that he looked embarrassed as fuck. “I - just - don’t mention that!”

Rather than agreeing, Dan just laughed.

Like hell was he giving up that kind of fodder for the future. Dan was going to hold that one over Phil’s head for the rest of his life. Dan arched his neck, and pressed a soft kiss to Phil’s lips, giggling against his mouth, and wishing they could just stay here.

But they had a dinner to attend, and some clean up to take care of before they went down. Besides, Dan really, really needed to get himself back on Phil’s parents’ good side, because he had a terrible feeling they hadn’t managed to be quiet at all.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #phandom #phan

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taeyongtime · 7 years ago

Text

perceptions

group & member: NCT’s Renjun

word count: 1,379

a/n: hello @maraschinochoerry its me, your nct secret santa! I’m very glad to have been able to meet you and hope this little xmas fic is alright 😖

→thank you to @playnct @nctinc for planning this event!

There’s always been something unspoken going on between you and Renjun.

The mutual glances, subtle brushing of fingertips, playful shoulder nudges and warm smiles... gestures that perhaps hinted at something more but remained kept within. Neither of you ever addressed anything and had always remained friends, but your friends all agreed that there was something more than friendship going on between you two.

An entire year flies by before one of your friends stages an intervention to help you and Renjun remove yourselves from the gray area that lingered in between friends and lovers--trust Haechan to singlehandedly plan together a Christmas party at the end of the year for such a reason rather than to reminisce and wrap up on this year’s shortcomings and enter the new year on a fresh slate.

---

“Hey.”

The softest tap on your shoulders and you smile at the snaggletoothed boy standing above you.

“Hey!” You scoot over to make room for him and he squeezes in between you and Mark, who enthusiastically offers his own greeting along with a high-five.

“When’d you get here?” Renjun asks you.

“Just five minutes ago. Apple cider okay with you?”

“Yeah.”

You get up to get a drink from the kitchen and notice Haechan chopping away at slabs of what looked to be peppermint bark.

“Haechan, is there any more cider?”

“Yeah, there’s another bottle in the fridge.” He puts down the knife and holds up a bowl containing shards of peppermint bark, complaining when you sneak a piece before opening the fridge to get the extra bottle of cider.

“Y/N, I swear, if you and Renjun don’t become a pair at the end of this party I’m going to—”

“I heard my name,” Renjun says as he pops his head into the kitchen. “Need help on anything, Haechan?”

“Everything’s just fine,” Haechan says sarcastically. “Now kiss!”

“He’s joking,” you laugh, waving Haechan away. “I’m not going to kiss you when we’re not a couple or anything like that.”

Renjun’s eyes flicker with a mix of what seems to be sadness and doubt, and he manages a soft murmur of agreement before taking the cup of apple cider offered his way.

--- As the party continues, you notice that Renjun is noticeably quieter than usual.

Haechan suggests a game of White Elephant as a new variation of their traditional gift-giving and the others are perplexed at the idea when they had already picked out gifts for the Secret Santa that had been all planned out the month before. In his defenses he mentions that as the host of the party, it was important to include everyone and there was no other way to include you when you hadn’t been present in their Secret Santa selection.

“It’s okay,” you smile, laughing to relieve the tension in the air. “I’ll just watch.”

“White Elephant is such a hit-or-miss,” Mark comments.

“You’re a hit-or-miss,” Haechan snaps, crossing his arms as he stares at Mark.

“Let’s just stick to our original plan,” Renjun speaks up, quickly looking away when he makes eye contact with you. “We’ve always done Secret Santa, it doesn’t really make sense to suddenly change to White Elephant, you know?”

The others chime in agreement and Haechan drops the idea, shooting you an apologetic smile as he takes out his present to add to the pile forming in the middle.

“Oh, I actually got something for you guys!” you remember, clapping your hands as you get up and head towards the coat rack where your bag is, returning with six red stockings.

“One each, happy holidays!”

Marvels at the handmade cards, numerous candy canes and other goodies inside the personalized stockings bring a wide grin to your face and you find yourself paying extra close attention to Renjun as he leafs through the one he had received from you. You hope your gift can help any way it can to bring a smile back to his face during his currently dampened mood.

“Wow, you got a coloring set in yours!” Mark says excitedly. “You’ve been complaining at how yours were getting dull for a while now.”

“Y/N’s playing favorites,” Jisung mutters as he flips through the volume of manga extracted from his gift, the final piece of the collection.

“I walked across the city to find a store that carried that series!” you say in defense, reaching over to ruffle Jisung’s head. “Show some thanks, you little punk.”

Jisung makes a face but thanks you for the effort afterwards, attention already veering off the main conversation as he returns to read the paperback from page one.

---

“I’ll walk you home.”

You look up from tying the laces of your boots and Renjun repeats his offer to walk you home. The party had lasted for another hour before it was declared over with respect to the schedule early next morning, the disappointment at attending a work event so soon a definite downer in the previously cheery atmosphere of the dorm.

“I can just go by myself,” you admit. “It’s a bit out of your way to go to the opposite of the city so late at night.”

“It’s not safe for you to travel alone this late,” he finishes. “Come on.”

The walk to the bus stop is excruciatingly slow and the bus ride even more so as neither of you talk while the driver steers the bus down its designated route. Passengers board and depart at varying timeframes, and it’s nearly 10pm when you press the button to signal a stop, hopping off the steps and onto soft snow as more white flakes sprinkle from above.

“Isn’t it pretty?” you ask Renjun.

He mumbles a response and picks up his pace, an awkwardness to his demeanor that catches you off guard.

“Is everything okay? You don’t seem very happy after leaving the party.”

“I’m fine,” he answers, slowing his steps in the soft snow.

“If I did something to upset you, you can tell me.”

The halt before you is rather abrupt and he turns to face you.

“I’m walking you home like a boyfriend now but it doesn’t seem like you want our relationship to go further than a friendship.”

You frown at the statement. “When did I hint at that?”

“When Haechan told us to kiss.” Soft flurries of white kick up from where the tip of his boots come in contact with the snow on the ground. “You said you wouldn’t because we’re not a couple or anything.”

“Well, it’s true that we aren’t a couple…”

“What if I wanted us to be a couple?”

A hand covers your mouth in surprise and Renjun hangs his head low, chuckling in embarrassment. “Don’t tell me you haven’t realized that I like you more than a friend?”

“You never said anything,” you retort.

“I thought you would pick up on it.”

Mutual looks of disbelief are exchanged and soon laughter breaks out in the air, equal bouts of late realization at the feelings that were always there but never addressed.

“Let’s go,” he points after catching his breath. “And here, take this to warm up.”

He reaches into his jacket and groans once his hands leave his pockets, nothing to warm up with your hands besides the sprig of white and green sitting on his palm.

“Is that mistletoe?” you ask.

“I’m… I’m going to kill Haechan.”

“You should thank him for his consistent effort.” Without a second thought, you lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek.

“W-What was that?” he stammers, reeling back in surprise.

“A kiss,” you point out. “You’re supposed to kiss under mistletoe.”

“But it wasn’t even hanging.”

“That’s not the point.”

Renjun rubs his hands in the cold and offers a gloved hand towards you. “Want to hold my hand the rest of the way?”

“Want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He drops you off at your front door before leaving with another kiss and you make sure to call Haechan before going to bed, thanking him for his role as matchmaker for you and Renjun along with hosting an amazing Christmas party that was the perfect wrap-up to ending the eventful year that was 2017.

#nct #renjun #nct scenarios #renjun scenarios #SecretSantaNCTzen #gifts

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adrianna-m-scovill · 7 years ago

Text

Barisi fic #2

I wrote around 1500 words of this, my second attempt at a Barba/Carisi story, at work yesterday but didn’t have time to finish it last night. I THOUGHT I would have it done shortly after getting home this afternoon. I had promised someone that I would post it this evening. But, well, several hours later it was at 5000+ words and still going. Finally finished around 10:30pm at just shy of 7000 words. I don’t even know how I let that happen, to be honest. I can’t objectively decide if it sucks or not, so I’m just going to post it. I’ll probably regret it in the morning. I just read it through once and fixed a few typos, but I’m not doing a rewrite. Some of it’s clunky - or perhaps the whole thing is clunky, but hopefully there are a few good moments.

Not explicit, although if I’d had more time...LOL

“Ah, look who’s slumming it. What brings you to our neck of the woods, Detective?”

“Who doesn’t love a Christmas party?” Carisi asked, running a hand over the front of his festive shirt. The room was filled with lawyers and judges—and some of their spouses—most in casual clothes, some in holiday garb, a few in suits. Carisi had compromised, wearing jeans—and his Christmas sweater over his shirt and tie.

“I know your squad usually meets in a bar,” the other man said.

“There’s a bar here.”

“Having a bar doesn’t make it a bar. Nice sweater.”

Carisi smiled. “Point taken. Can I get you another—”

“Don’t mind him, Carisi,” Barba said, stepping up beside the cop. “He only likes clothes that are shiny. Thinks they look more expensive.”

The other lawyer rolled his eyes. “Fashion advice from the man who wears pink shirts to court. Speaking of—isn’t this the same suit you wore to court today?”

“It is!” Barba exclaimed, grinning. “It’s very expensive, it’d be a shame to waste it.”

“At least this shirt isn’t pink,” the other man said.

“I have to say, your obsession with the color of my wardrobe is flattering,” Barba said, raising his eyebrows.

The other man made a sound somewhere between annoyance and disgust, and turned his attention back to Carisi. “You guys really screwed the pooch on the Riley case.”

Carisi bristled in spite of himself. “It’s not SVU’s fault the guy—”

“Down, boy,” Barba said, shooting him a sideways look before focusing on the other lawyer. “Sometimes Griggs just needs to talk until his brain can catch up.”

“I know you’re feeling pretty chummy with your cop buddies, lately, Barba, but remember, no matter how much they smile at you—they don’t let anyone else behind that thin blue line. Don’t forget which side you’re on.”

“We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?” Carisi asked, glancing from Barba to Griggs. “Justice, law and order, don’t we all just wanna put away the bad guys?”

“Besides, he’s not just a cop, didn’t he pass his bar exam?” a woman asked, appearing at Carisi’s other side with a smile.

“On his first try, in fact!” Barba told Griggs. He pursed his lips and tilted his head, considering. “Remind me—was it four times, or only three—”

“Alright,” Griggs said. “Nice chat.” He tipped his glass and started to turn away.

Barba called after him, “The prosecution rests.”

Griggs looked back. “If your buddies keep screwing up your cases, give the DA my name when he’s looking for your replacement.”

“Oh, trust me, he has your name,” Barba returned. “It’s in the file marked no way in Hell. But your concern for my career is sweet.” Without waiting for a response, he turned his back on Griggs and, smiling at the woman beside Carisi, said, “So, Counselor, this is Detective Carisi. I taught him everything he knows, just not everything I know. Carisi, this is Abigail Griggs, niece of that unpleasant blowhard who just left, but don’t let that deter you.”

Carisi smiled at her and held out his hand. “Call me Sonny,” he said.

“Abby,” she returned.

“He uses that line on everyone, just so you know,” Barba told her.

“If you want, I can introduce you around,” Abby said, returning Carisi’s smile. She glanced at Barba. “As long as you’re not tied to—”

“No, Ms. Griggs, he is off-leash tonight. Have at it.” Barba turned toward Carisi, clapped him on the shoulder and, leaning in so that his own shoulder brushed Carisi’s chest, said, “Don’t do anything I would.”

Carisi laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head.

With a quick pat on the arm, Barba said, “You kids have fun,” and sauntered away into the crowd, leaving Carisi and Abby alone in the middle of the room.

Carisi looked at Abby and rolled his eyes. “Sorry about him,” he said. “He’s, uh…well. You know. Barba,” he finished with a shrug and a smile.

“Oh, believe me, I know ADA Barba,” Abby laughed. “Most aspiring lawyers would kill for a chance to shadow him, but I doubt most would last as long as you have.”

“He’s the best,” Carisi said with a shrug. “No way I would’ve learned as much from anyone else, not so soon.”

“I’ve seen you two around the courthouse. He seems to ride you pretty hard—If you want to follow someone else around for a while, I can make that happen. You could get a little of the spotlight on you, for a change. We all know that nothing makes Barba happier than a press conference and a soapbox.”

“He gives credit when it’s due,” Carisi said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, thanks.” As they turned toward the bar, Carisi’s touch at her arm was light, and she stepped closer to his side as they wove through the groups of people. “I’d ask how you convinced him to let you observe, but I imagine he just liked the idea of a lackey to whom he could show off—”

“At first I think he was doing it as a favor to my lieutenant, actually,” Carisi said. They ordered their drinks and, while they waited, he gestured toward the room with his chin and said, “So, is this our taxpayer money at work, or what?”

“The NYPD doesn’t have their Christmas parties in a place like this?” she asked, feigning surprise.

“Not so much, no,” he laughed. He looked around. He spotted Barba—the ADA had his hand on a judge’s arm, and he was leaned in close to her ear, grinning as he said something in a low voice. She suddenly threw her head back and laughed, and her fingers brushed against Barba’s chest. Everything about their body language screamed of flirtation, but Carisi wasn’t surprised. Barba flirted with everyone. “You work at your uncle’s firm?” Carisi asked, turning his attention to Abby as they picked up their drinks and thanked the bartender.

“For now,” she answered. “But he’s alright, really. He and Barba are just…competitive.”

“Aren’t all lawyers?” he asked.

She laughed. “Touché. Really, you should come by, feel it out. Not always as high-stakes pressure as the DA’s office, maybe, but we do what we can.”

“Victims deserve justice no matter how much their face is on the news,” Carisi said.

“Ah, so you’re a purist,” she joked. “Barba hasn’t made you a cynic, yet?”

“Barba? He’s no cynic, I promise you,” Carisi answered with a laugh. They were walking, slowly, and it was no accident that her arm kept brushing against his. “No one has a stronger desire for justice.”

“No one has a bigger ego,” she countered.

“Let’s talk about something other than work,” he suggested. “Tell me about you, did you grow up in New York?”

“Pennsylvania, actually,” she said. “Here.” She put her hand at his sleeve, and he followed her lead as she turned toward a group of men and women.

“Hey, the cops are here,” one of the men joked as they approached, and Carisi smiled. The man held out a hand. “Detective…what was it? Something Italian, right?”

“Carisi, call me Sonny.”

“Trent LeBlanc.”

Shaking his hand, Carisi said, “French, huh?”

“Booyah,” a voice behind him said, and Carisi glanced over his shoulder to see Barba sauntering past, smirking. “Mr. LeBlanc went to McGill, as he’s no doubt about to tell you. Try to contain yourself,” he added, without stopping. He was on his way toward the bar.

“Mr. Barba’s right,” LeBlanc said. “I hate when that happens.” The group laughed, and LeBlanc continued, “French-Canadian. Take half a point. How’s Fordham Law’s night program, these days? I hear good things.” The group laughed again, looking to Carisi for his reaction.

“Seemed to work out pretty well for me,” Carisi said.

“Did you mention the whole passing-the-bar-on-the-first-try, thing?” Barba asked, passing by in the opposite direction, with two glasses in each hand. “Guaranteed crowd-pleaser in this place.”

“Care to explain what happened to the Riley case, Barba?” LeBlanc called after him.

“Maybe later,” Barba answered without looking back. Carisi watched him stop in front of the pretty judge and offer her a glass, before handing drinks to the two lawyers—one male, one female—who’d joined them. Barba said something in a low voice, and all three of his companions laughed.

“That case falling apart wasn’t the fault of the DA’s office,” Abby said, putting her hand inside the crook of Carisi’s elbow. “Even Barba—”

“He got cocky, and he got sloppy,” LeBlanc cut in. “But we all have to rely on a little vetting by the NYPD,” he added, turning his gaze to Carisi.

“None of us knew the witness was going to lie on the stand,” Carisi answered. “And Pierre had a good lawyer. She played the jury—”

“She’s not here, you don’t have to worry,” LeBlanc cut in. “She’s probably somewhere throwing a party of her own, celebrating the way we all do when we take Barba down a notch. In court, of course,” he added, with a toothy smile that fell short of his eyes.

“Those parties must be few and far between,” Carisi said, with a smile of his own.

The others laughed, and one of them clapped LeBlanc on the shoulder, saying, “He’s got us there, Trent.”

“Speaking of parties,” Carisi added, gesturing toward LeBlanc with his glass, “Didn’t you have the case last month with that, uh—what was his name? The party on the yacht—Anderson, the Cole Anderson trial, that was you, right? I was wondering why you didn’t use the Burke v. Young precedent to argue—”

“Didn’t apply,” LeBlanc interrupted, and it was clear that a nerve had been struck.

“Really? Barba and I both agreed—”

“Please, like any of us believe that Rafael Barba considers your opinions—or anyone’s. He’s the be-all and end-all of judicial law—in his mind, anyway.”

“I guess the highest conviction rate in five boroughs’ll do that to a guy,” Carisi shot back.”

“Ho, ho, checkmate,” one of the lawyers said, clapping LeBlanc on the shoulder, and LeBlanc forced a smile as his companions chuckled.

“Oh, Sonny, come on,” Abby said, pulling on his arm. “I want to introduce you to Judge Samuels.”

“Pleasure talking with you, Detective,” LeBlanc said.

“Likewise,” Carisi returned, nodding toward the others in the group before following Abby’s tug on his arm. “This is a tough room,” he muttered, leaning toward her ear. “What’s the deal? Barba might be…an acquired taste, but—”

“Most of the men in the room want to be him, most of the women want to sleep with him,” Abby said. “And then there’s some crossover.”

Carisi considered that in silence.

“Judge Samuels, this is Detective Sonny Carisi,” Abby said, as they stopped in front of a female judge that Carisi recognized.

“Ah, yes, you were in my courtroom last week,” Samuels said. “Please tell me you’re not going to pick up the grandstanding habits of your mentor, Mr. Barba, Detective Carisi?”

“Let’s just say his flair for the dramatic isn’t my style,” Carisi answered, but his smile felt a little sickly. He didn’t like all the jabs at Barba, not when the man wasn’t in the conversation to defend himself. Before he could say something to change the subject, the judge, seeming to read his expression, spoke again.

“Don’t get me wrong, Detective, I have the utmost respect for the ADA. His…flair for the dramatic, as you put it, might get tiring but it’s never boring, and no one could ever argue he doesn’t get results. The Riley case was a tough one for all of us to stomach, but I have complete faith that the NYPD will find another angle at that—if you’ll forgive me—son of a bitch. The SVU’s conviction rate is almost as impressive as the Manhattan DA’s, now that he’s given Barba a longer leash.”

“I appreciate that, Your Honor, we do our best. I wouldn’t bet against Lieutenant Benson.”

The judge laughed. “Nor would I,” she said. “I know Olivia—I’ve seen her in my court more often than most of the lawyers here. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, nodding across the room as someone caught her attention.

“Of course,” Carisi said, as the judge sidled past him. He looked at Abby. She’d finished her drink, although he’d barely sipped his own. He gestured toward her glass with his chin. “Refill?” he asked.

She smiled; she still had hold of his arm, and he had no complaints. She had pretty green eyes that lit up each time he smiled at her. She wore minimal makeup, just enough to accent her natural beauty, and the curve of her lips made it nearly impossible not to imagine kissing her. Her confidence was sexy, and even though she hadn’t said much, Carisi knew she was one of the smartest people in the room. He could see it in her attentive gaze, knew that she didn’t miss a thing.

“You smell nice,” he told her, leaning down to murmur it in her ear. From the corner of his eye, he saw her lips curve even further, saw the dimple peek out of her cheek, and he grinned at the pressure of her fingers on his arm.

“Yes, I could use a refill,” she said, and he laughed, straightening. “Unless you want to share?” she asked, nodding toward his glass. “Not much of a drinker?”

Before he could answer, two men stepped up to them. One, Carisi recognized; the other he didn’t.

“Judge Piro, right?” he asked, handing his drink to Abby before shaking the judge’s hand. She set her empty glass on a nearby table and sipped at Carisi’s drink.

“Sure, but it’s Christmas,” Piro said. “Call me Ted. Detective Carisi, this is Gary Fellows. We have a friendly little wager going, and need your help to settle it.”

“Glad to do what I can,” Carisi said, thinking, Please don’t be about Barba or the Riley case.

“How many doughnuts would you say your squad goes through in a week? On average?” Fellows asked.

Carisi laughed. “Never ask a cop to betray squad secrets,” he answered.

Piro leaned forward, and said, “In all seriousness, though, you guys help us all sleep a little easier at night. We see a lot, but none of us could do what you all do. Cops and lawyers—working together, they’re essential, but they’re of different species. I know you’re playing your hand at lawyer, for a bit—”

“‘So we must be careful about what we pretend to be,’” Barba said, suddenly appearing beside Carisi to flash a grin at Piro and Fellows. “Kurt Vonnegut,” he added, even though no one asked.

“Good to see you, Mr. Barba,” Piro said. “You know Gary?”

“I do,” Barba said, still smiling, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Fellows. “Delightful to see you again, as always, Mr. Fellows,” he added.

Carisi looked at Gary Fellows and realized that the man was blushing.

“And excellent ruling last week, Judge Piro,” Barba said. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

“No one talks his way around a circle quite like you, Rafael,” Piro answered, both exasperated and amused.

“‘I’m in no one’s circle. I’ve always been an outsider,’” Barba said. “Any guesses who said that?”

“Shakespeare?” Fellows muttered.

Barba laughed. “Excellent use of sarcasm, Mr. Fellows, but no—Although Shakespeare did say ‘The wheel is come full circle.’ For future reference.”

Fellows raised his glass and quickly swallowed the last of his drink.

“Can I get you another?” Barba asked, pointing at the glass. “I’m on my way there, now.”

“Uh,” Fellows said, glancing around. “I’ll walk with you.”

Barba patted Carisi on the shoulder on his way past.

“Wait, who said the thing about being an outsider?” Abby asked.

And how did you finish your other drink so quickly? Carisi wanted to ask.

“Joan Rivers,” Barba called over his shoulder, and Abby, Carisi, and Piro all grinned at each other.

“If you’ll pardon us, Judge, we’re on our way to the bar, too,” Carisi said, noting that Abby had finished his drink.

As he walked her to the bar, they passed Barba and Fellows headed in the opposite direction. Barba was carrying three drinks, this time, and Fellows was sipping his while they walked. Barba tipped Carisi a wink on their way by.

“He’s going to wear a track into the floor,” Abby said. “Maybe he should just bring his crowd to the bar.”

Looking over his shoulder, Carisi noted, “It’s a different crowd,” as Barba and Fellows joined a man and woman on the far side of the room.

“Eh,” Abby said, shrugging and pressing up closer against Carisi’s side. “A few more and he’ll be singing.”

“Singing?” Carisi asked, shooting her a confused look.

She nodded toward the piano. “If he doesn’t take off with someone, he’ll be at the piano by eleven, guaranteed.”

“Seriously?”

She laughed. “Seriously. Strap in, Sonny, you might be in for a surprise.”

Carisi walked out of the men’s room and glanced around. Abby wasn’t in sight, so he waited near the door of the women’s room. He stood with his hands in his pockets; he had his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, because the room had grown hot and stuffy. It was also getting late. He’d talked to almost every person in the room at least once. Abby had, after several drinks in quick succession, made good on her earlier promise to introduce him around. She’d grown chattier as the evening wore on, as they’d thrown themselves into more and more conversations.

The last hour had actually been pretty invigorating for Carisi. He’d been quizzed mercilessly by judges and attorneys alike, tested on his knowledge of court cases and criminal law. He’d argued his way through hypothetical scenarios and given a little insight into his daily job upon request. A few of the people, like LeBlanc and Griggs, had been less than pleasant, but most were friendly enough and ready to admit when Carisi had made a good point.

There were several times when Barba happened by, on his way to the bar or the restroom or to meet up with someone, and he always had a glib quote, or a comment on Carisi’s test scores, to toss out in response to whatever teasing or grilling Carisi was receiving.

As he waited for Abby, Carisi scanned the room, looking for Barba. He stilled, surprised, as he saw the ADA lowering himself onto the piano bench, sans suit jacket, his shirtsleeves also rolled to the elbow. Despite Abby’s prediction, Carisi had never expected the scene to actually play out. He waited, fascinated in spite of himself, unsure if he should expect a train-wreck to unfold before his eyes. He wondered if he should try to head his friend off and take him outside before he embarrassed himself.

Carisi let that thought slip away, because he didn’t think it was possible for Barba to feel embarrassment.

The notes that filled the room were slow, not what Carisi expected. Barba was several sheets to the wind, and Carisi had been preparing himself for a Jerry Lee Lewis-esque performance of banging on the keys and maybe eventually clambering up on top of the piano to belt out some karaoke. Instead, Barba started singing, his voice low and stunningly perfect: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” Carisi stood, frozen in place, staring across the room, mesmerized both by Barba’s voice and by the emotion in the man’s face.

Abby appeared by his side and took his arm, startling him. “Sorry,” she said, giving him a funny look, but his gaze was already sliding back to Barba. “Told you. Eleven o’clock, almost on the dot. He gets sappy after enough drinks.”

“He’s really good,” Carisi said.

“I never said he wasn’t,” Abby answered. “One more drink?”

Carisi gave himself a mental shake and forced his attention back to her, managing a smile. “Of course,” he said. By the time they’d reached the bar, a small group of men and women had gathered near the piano to join Barba in song. Carisi ordered a club soda, and he and Abby moved over to the wall, quietly nursing their drinks while they watched the group of carolers grow.

As soon as the song ended, Barba started another: “The Holly and the Ivy,” which surprised Carisi even more—until almost everyone in the place joined in on the chorus, filling the room with the sounds of a choir, and Carisi could see the pure joy in Barba’s expression. This was a tradition, Carisi realized: Barba played this song because of its potential for participation, and the lawyers and judges, his audience, became willing and eager participants.

Barba looked up, and his eyes met Carisi’s. For a moment, Carisi couldn’t breathe. He felt a jolt of electricity that stunned him; his body tingled with awareness, and he felt something like nervousness squirming in his belly. Barba broke eye contact first, and while the makeshift choir was singing, he played one-handed as he grabbed his glass from the piano and swallowed the last of his drink.

“Want to sit for a minute?” Abby asked, as Barba started singing the last verse.

“Sure,” Carisi said. He tried to shake off his discomfort, tried to return his focus to where it belonged. He knew that Abby could sense his distraction, which was unfair to her. They’d had a nice evening, and he knew that she’d assumed she would be invited back to his apartment. In truth, he hadn’t fully decided, although he’d considered the idea a lot. He couldn’t deny his attraction to her—physically and intellectually. They came from different worlds, though, and he couldn’t imagine the relationship surviving long in the light of day. They could spend the night together, and they would both enjoy themselves. They might even see each other a few times in the coming weeks, but eventually, whatever they had would dissolve like cotton candy on the tongue.

Carisi wasn’t averse to the idea, but he wanted something more substantial. He wanted something that he couldn’t get from Abby: someone to fall asleep with each night, to wake beside each morning, someone with whom he could share the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and the orange juice in the refrigerator. A real relationship that wouldn’t buckle under the stress of his job. A life spent with someone by his side.

He sat on a sofa in the corner with Abby beside him, and she leaned her head on his shoulder while they listened to Barba slide into a low and melancholy version of “Silent Night.” The mood around the room had changed, subtly, the carolers looking somber as they sang along.

Barba was propped against the wall, near the doorway, looking at his phone, when Carisi made his way over to him.

“I’ve never seen you wasted, before.”

Barba glanced up with a dirty look. “I am not wasted,” he said.

“If you say so,” Carisi answered. “Want me to get you a taxi?”

“I’m waiting for my Uber,” Barba said, peering at the screen of his phone.

“You texted an Uber?” Carisi asked, his forehead wrinkled.

Barba looked up. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted. His jacket and tie were nowhere in sight, and his suspenders were hanging in loops below his hips. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, one sleeve still rolled up.

His eyes were bright and alert, though, as he looked at Carisi. “I have no idea,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I definitely asked someone to pick me up, though.”

Carisi snorted. “I think I should put you in a cab,” he said.

“Ms. Griggs is making out with you from across the room,” Barba answered, arching an eyebrow. “You going to keep her waiting?”

With a small smile, Carisi said, “I told her I needed to see to a friend.”

Barba reached out a hand and pinched the front of Carisi’s sweater, giving it a light tug. “The sweater was a nice touch, don’t let anyone convince you otherwise,” he said. They were both looking at his hand. “I like that you’re not worried about what anyone thinks of you.”

Carisi cleared his throat into the following silence.

Barba seemed to give himself a mental shake, pulling his hand back. He looked up and made a face, waving his hand in the air. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You’ve done your civic duty, now get back to your date.”

“Barba—”

“Carisi,” the lawyer cut in, his readiness to argue—as always—evident in his expression. Even after as much as he’d had to drink; Rafael Barba was never off his game. Carisi knew he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Do you at least know where your—” Carisi slid his hand up and down in the air, indicating Barba’s missing jacket and tie.

“Yes, Carisi, I can keep track of my clothes. I’m a big boy. Go,” he added, gesturing toward Abby with his chin. He pulled his phone out again and, when Carisi hesitated, glanced up and repeated, “Go.”

“Alright,” the detective finally said. He pointed at Barba, who didn’t look up. “Just do me a favor and text me when you get home, at least?”

“Sure, Dad,” Barba muttered.

Laughing, shaking his head, Carisi said, “Merry Christmas, Counselor.”

“Goodnight, Detective Carisi,” Barba answered. He looked up as Carisi made his way toward Abby. She was waiting near the bar, smiling at the cop as he approached; she had her coat and gloves on, and her purse over her arm, ready to leave, and when Carisi held out his arm she didn’t hesitate. She put her arm through his and they smiled at each other. He tipped his head down to murmur something, and she nodded.

The party had wound down, but the room was far from empty. Most of the men and women were in pairs, scattered through the room, with a few larger groups. Soon, they would all straggle out into the cold city, heading home—some alone, some together.

Barba sighed and stuffed his phone into his pocket again. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gave his head a little shake, glancing at his watch even though he’d just been looking at his phone. He made his way over to get his jacket and tie from the piano bench, smiling at the judge making eyes at him from across the room.

He hesitated, considering her unspoken offer. He was more than a little tempted, and if he’d had one more drink, he supposed he’d probably invite her back to his place. One more drink—or, perhaps, if she were a worse judge, but he had too much respect for her and her courtroom. She was tough, she was fair, and he couldn’t tell his friends in the special victims unit that one of the city’s best judges would have to recuse herself from any case they wanted him to present, recuse herself or disclose their Christmas Eve one-night stand.

Still, in spite of what he’d told Carisi, he was pretty drunk, and he really didn’t relish the idea of going home to his quiet and lonely apartment by himself. When the judge tipped her glass of wine in his direction, an acknowledgement that they both knew why they shouldn’t spend the night together, Barba nodded once in return. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and tucked his tie partway into his back pocket.

“Why’d you invite me here tonight?”

Barba froze at the sound of Carisi’s voice behind him. In spite of himself, he felt a nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed once, and said, “‘Why anything? There is no why.’”

“Yeah, yeah, trapped in amber and all that. Even drunk, you’re still quoting Vonnegut?”

Barba turned to face him. “Look who’s been reading,” he said with a crooked smile.

“It’s bull, anyway,” Carisi returned with a scowl. “You don’t do anything without a reason.”

“Then��I wanted to see if you could hold your own,” Barba suggested with a shrug, still smiling.

“Nah, see, that’s just it,” Carisi said. “You said you liked that I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, but all night these lawyers have been talking crap. And you kept showing up, like I couldn’t handle myself, like I needed you to fight my battles for me.”

“Come on, Detective, you’re smarter than that,” he said.

“Maybe not,” Carisi returned. He spread his hands in frustration, but kept his voice low as he said, “Pretend I’m dumb. Explain it to me.”

“You don’t care what they think of you, any of them,” Barba said. “You’re the one who thought you didn’t belong with them.”

“So you brought me here to, what, stroke my ego? Make sure you didn’t lose your lackey?”

Barba let out a breath. “I need another drink,” he said. “And you need…” He waved a hand in the air. “An espresso or something. You clearly can’t hold your liquor.”

“I hardly had anything to drink.”

“Where’s your date?”

“I got her a taxi,” Carisi said.

Barba tipped his head, smirking. “You do know you’re supposed to go with her, right?”

“So, what, you thought if they insulted me it’d make me feel better about myself?” Carisi asked.

Exasperated, Barba said, “Well? Didn’t it?”

Carisi opened his mouth, then closed it, his brow knitted.

“All night, these people were testing you, and all night, you rose to the challenge. Tell me you don’t feel more confident.” Barba saw realization dawn in Carisi’s face. “There ya go,” he said, pointing at the detective. “Good boy, knew you’d get there eventually. Now go home, sleep off your epiphany.”

“Then why did you—”

“Just because you don’t care what they think doesn’t mean I don’t,” Barba said, his green eyes flashing.

Thinking that maybe Barba was upset because he knew the way some of his peers talked about him behind his back, Carisi started to justify their jealousies: “Everyone here respects—” He broke off as he saw the hint of quickly-hidden emotion flit across Barba’s features, though, realizing he’d misjudged Barba’s meaning. “Oh, you didn’t mean you,” he said, quietly. “You care what they think of me.”

Adjusting his blazer on his shoulder, Barba forced a smile and said, “Hey, what are friends for? Now, seriously, get out of here. You’re killing my buzz.” He started away, having decided to have at least one more drink, after all.

“Barba,” Carisi said.

“Nope, I’m done here,” Barba answered without looking back.

“Rafael,” Carisi said, instead, and Barba paused, suppressing a sudden shiver.

“Go home,” Barba repeated, with a quick glance over his shoulder. He walked away before he could give in to his temptation to say—or do—something he might regret. He left Carisi standing alone, with a frown on the detective’s face. Halfway to the bar, however, Barba changed his mind about the drink. Suddenly, the dark loneliness of his apartment seemed fitting, and he veered away from the drinks, away from the judge, away from all of the stubborn partiers.

What he needed was for the cold New York night air to slap him in the face. It was closing in on midnight, and the city outside was painted in the colors of Christmas. Soon, church bells would be ringing in the holiday. It might even be snowing. And, after the holiday, he would throw himself back into his work; in fact, he had files he could be reviewing now, just waiting for him at home. There were plenty of distractions in the world, for a person willing to seek them out.

He stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking with Carisi’s. No distracting from that, he thought, his heart suddenly galloping in his chest. The detective was in the doorway, his arms crossed, his Christmas sweater pulled tight across his shoulders. He was scowling, and his feet were planted.

Despite his defiant posture, Barba was confident that Carisi would back down, and so he forced himself to move. He strolled toward the doorway, jacket over his shoulder, suspenders hanging loose, tie draped from his pocket, hair a mess—he strolled with all the casualness he could muster, wondering if he was fooling anyone.

“Something I can do for you, Dominick?” he asked. It was the first time he’d ever called Carisi by his given name, and doing so was a calculated tactic.

Carisi’s expression softened, which was not the reaction that Barba had been expecting. “Everyone seems to think you give me so much crap because I annoy you, because you don’t like having me around,” Carisi said.

In spite of his resolve, Barba winced. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he heard himself say.

“I don’t—I never thought that,” Carisi answered.

“Then I’m confused,” Barba said. “You, what? Want me to be nicer to you around other people? I won’t make any promises. I can be nicer to you in private,” he added. This was edging away from calculation and into desperation, now. He needed to scare Carisi off so he could get outside.

“You’re harder on me than anyone,” Carisi said.

“Double entendre is not your forte, Sonny.”

Carisi’s cheeks were darkening; Barba felt decidedly flushed, himself, and it wasn’t from the alcohol or the stuffiness of the room. “Call me Dominick,” the detective said.

Barba stepped closer, holding Carisi’s gaze. Still, Carisi didn’t back down. “Do you know what you’re doing right now?”

Carisi cleared his throat and swallowed before speaking. “I forgot to tell you how good you were. On the piano. I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Barba said, twisting his lips into a smile.

“Well, I liked it,” Carisi returned. He hesitated, then admitted, “A lot.”

Barba could scarcely remember how to breathe normally. He was trying to maintain his self-control so he could leave with a little dignity intact, but he was losing the battle with himself. He could feel the heat of the blood in his veins. He could feel the low ache of desire burning in his stomach. His fingers longed to reach out. His skin tingled, calling out for Carisi’s touch.

“You need to stop,” Barba said, and he couldn’t even say for sure if he was talking to himself or Carisi.

“Come here,” Carisi answered.

Barba licked his lips, nervously, and glanced upward. “Do you know—”

“That’s why I’m here,” Carisi cut in.

Someone—some poor, drunk schmuck hoping to con a few kisses, most likely—had taped a plastic sprig of mistletoe to the doorframe above Carisi’s head.

When Barba continued to stand, frozen in indecision, Carisi said, “I’m out on a limb, here, Rafi.”

Without any conscious decision, Barba found himself crossing the last distance between them. He was powerless to resist the vulnerability in Carisi’s expression, unable—and unwilling—to leave him mired in self-doubts. Barba reached out and pressed his palm, lightly, against Carisi’s chest, searching his stubbled, shadowy face.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Carisi said.

Barba shook his head, emotion twisting his features. He tipped his head to the side and said, “You’re not wrong.”

Carisi let out a breath. “I’ve never seen you like this. Nervous.”

“Terrified,” Barba corrected.

“You’re the most confident person I’ve ever seen,” Carisi said. “You could’ve convinced anyone in this room, male or female, to go home with you.”

“I think you overestimate my charms,” Barba said with a small smile. “Most of the people here tonight can’t stand me.”

“That’s not true. Even the straight guys want you, a little bit, they just don’t understand it.”

“Is that what this is, right now?” Barba asked. He didn’t pull his hand back. Now that he could actually feel Carisi’s heart pounding through the sweater, Barba didn’t think he’d have the strength to break away. Carisi would have to put an end to this.

Carisi shook his head. “I’m not unsure, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I have no idea what I’m asking,” Barba admitted. “I have no idea what—”

Carisi reached out, sliding his fingers into Barba’s sweaty hair, cupping the back of his head. Barba licked his dry lips, and then Carisi’s mouth was slanted over his, and the pressure that had been building inside of Barba’s chest seemed to burst, filling his ears with the roar of blood. The scent of Carisi’s aftershave—a scent that had become as familiar to Barba as his own—filled his flared nostrils and made his head spin.

He dropped his blazer to the floor and moved his hands to Carisi’s hips, holding handfuls of knitted Christmas sweater to keep himself grounded. When Carisi’s tongue met his, Barba made a strangled sound of desire and knew, in the small corner of his brain still capable of rational thought, that they needed to stop. They weren’t alone.

Barba turned his face away, breathing heavily, his head swimming. Carisi’s fingers massaged his scalp, and Barba’s groin tightened. “Dom,” he said, but his voice cracked. He bit his lip and looked up, meeting Carisi’s heavy gaze. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice and expression raw.

“Since I met you, you’ve made me a better person,” Carisi said.

Barba shook his head, opened his mouth to object.

Carisi cut him off: “It’s true, and I don’t just mean that I wouldn’t be a lawyer without you, or that I would’ve looked like an idiot in a room like this without everything you’ve taught me. I mean that…you always made me feel like I was…worthy.”

“By insulting you?” Barba asked.

“You weren’t insulting me, you were flirting. You flirt with everyone. It’s one of the ways you disarm people, no one does it better than you. It doesn’t always mean something. I knew you found me attractive. It was flattering. I didn’t think it meant anything. Even the fact that I was attracted to you—that didn’t have to mean anything, because everyone is attracted to you. You’re like a magnet. You draw people to you.”

“I repel people,” Barba countered, barely above a whisper.

“You draw them to you by pretending to repel them,” Carisi corrected. “I was fine with what it was, a mutual attraction we didn’t have to talk about.”

“And?”

“And then when you were singing, I felt this…God, Rafi, I can’t even explain it. I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. I couldn’t even breathe. I pretty much forgot about Abby, which she didn’t deserve. It wasn’t just an abstract thing, like wanting something in a store window, you know, like fantasizing about something you know you’ll never have. It was a real desire. And I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know how it could fit into our friendship.

“Then you looked at me…” he trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“And?” Barba repeated.

“And I knew. I could see it.”

“Knew what?”

“‘It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye,’” Carisi said.

Barba blinked in surprise. “Did you seriously just quote The Little Prince?”

Carisi grinned. “I’m full of surprises,” he said.

“What do you want from me?” Barba repeated. “If you want me to say it, I will, but I don’t want you to think—”

“This is uncharted territory for me, Rafael,” Carisi said. “You can help me. I’m always eager to learn from you,” he added with a small smile. “But it’s not some spur-of-the-moment decision. I know what I want.”

“How much have you had to drink, exactly?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“I am,” Barba said.

“I think you’ve sobered up quite a bit,” Carisi countered.

“You’re right, I have,” Barba agreed. “You do realize that I don’t normally do long-term relationships—with anyone.”

“Not normally, no,” Carisi said.

“But you’re not the one-night stand type.”

“No. I want to share the orange juice,” he said. “I want to wake up beside the same person, every morning, for the rest of my life. I want to hold hands on the sidewalk and send cute texts all day and have dinner in front of the TV.”

“And you think that I want all those things? With you?”

“Yes.”

Barba sighed. “I thought I was hiding it pretty well,” he muttered.

“I’m in love with you, Rafael,” Carisi said. “Completely, totally in love. If you feel the same, then I need…I need for you to help me. I need for you to stop looking scared because I need you to be confident and take the lead, now.”

Barba was still holding Carisi’s sweater. Carisi’s hand was at the back of Barba’s neck. They were standing close enough for each to feel the other’s desire, but there was more than that; there was an intimacy between them that neither had felt before. Their gazes were locked, blue eyes to green, as their chests rose and fell in unison.

Slowly, deliberately, Barba raised his chin and straightened his shoulders. He steered Carisi toward the side of the door, pushing him—gently, but firmly—against the wall. He braced his feet, his thighs pressed against Carisi’s, and leaned into him, holding his stare. His kiss was slow, too; he took his time exploring Carisi’s mouth, and felt the detective’s body, all of it, straining toward him.

“Hey, guys,” someone called. “Get a room.”

Carisi made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. With their mouths still melded together, Barba suddenly grinned.

#Barisi #SVU fanfic #Rafael Barba #Sonny Carisi #Dominick Carisi #how did i let this get this long

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raendown · 7 years ago

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Obligatory Christmas fic! Merry Christmas everyone!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4004 Summary: Madara has detested Christmas since he was fairly young, just not for any reason that he cares to broadcast. This year something special happens that just might endear him to the season a little more.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

We Wish You A Happy Something

From the very second he had stepped inside the well-lit Senju household his mood had plummeted even lower than it had been for the entire week leading up to this. Everything in here was covered in disgustingly festive red and green patterns, tacky fake snow, and seizure inducing flickering lights. Madara held his arms close to his body as he carefully picked his way down the hall, trying not to touch anything lest the fabled ‘spirit of Christmas’ rub off on him.

This was, without a doubt, his least favorite time of year. Usually he got away with holing up inside his rather spacious midtown apartment, reading books and staying snuggled up in bed until evening had come again, pretending it was just any other day off work. Not this year, though. This year Hashirama had told him in no uncertain terms that he was expected to arrive at this house the night before so he could wake up with the Senju family for Christmas morning. Apparently his friend had even contacted Izuna and his brother would be arriving with Touka in the morning as well. Terrible. If this got any more cloying and Christmas-y Madara was likely to set fire to whatever was closest to him.

Stepping in to the den, he sneered at the perfectly made up tree in the corner. It could have been plucked straight out of a catalogue; a sure sign, if any, that Hashirama had had no part in the decorating process. Presents filled the space beneath the lower branches of the large spruce and he cast a critical eye over them all. Hashirama knew damn well how he felt about this particular holiday so he truly hoped that his friend wasn’t expecting him to bring any presents. He hadn’t bought a single Christmas present since he was about fifteen years old and he had no intention of breaking that streak now just because he’d been dragged unwillingly out of his annual seclusion.

“You made it!” a familiar voice crowed from the top of the staircase to his right. Madara scowled as he tilted his head back. Hashirama was thundering down to greet him, Tobirama trailing behind at a much statelier pace.

“Did you think I’d get lost or something?” he growled, stomping by without meeting his friend at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve only been here a few hundred times.”

“Hey, wait! Wait for me Madara!”

Instead of listening he made his way further down the hall to where he knew he could find what the Senju called their leisure room. The actual living room was mostly for show and for holiday gatherings. The leisure room was where the big TV was mounted on one wall, an antique pool table placed close to another, and it was here that they spent most of their time when Madara came to visit.

Without waiting for permission – they’d been friends so long he was practically family, he hadn’t needed permission in years – Madara turned the television on and began surfing channels until he landed on the first movie he found that wasn’t Christmas themed. Pay-per-view, of course, before he was just grouchy enough to make Hashirama pay for this indignity in any way he could. He heard the two Senju brothers banging around in the kitchen until Mito’s voice chased them both out and they joined him on the enormous sofa to watch his movie.

He didn’t take much special notice when Tobirama got up and started rummaging around in the liquor cabinet beneath the window. They were all adults here and it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for the younger man to indulge in one or two drinks on occasion. When he hauled out an entire bottle of what appeared to be flavored vodka, however, he suddenly had Madara’s undivided attention. Something else was pulled out of the cabinet as well but it stayed hidden within his hand as he wandered over to the television and began to fiddle with the pointless artsy wall decoration hung just over top. Disturbingly, Hashirama began to clap his hands like a child.

“Yay! Starting early!”

“I feel as though I’m going to regret asking this,” Madara said slowly, “but what is starting early and what exactly does he intend to do with that much alcohol?”

“Christmas tradition!” Hashirama scrambled off the couch and nearly dove headfirst inside his own cabinetry, coming out with a tall bottle of whiskey that he toted back with him to the spot he’d just vacated.

“The movie hat game,” Tobirama clarified as he resettled himself farther down the couch. “Happens every year at Christmas. You hang a small hat above the television so that it dangles just within the screen. Every time it lines up so that one of the characters on screen look like they’re wearing it, you take a drink.”

“We usually play with Christmas movies but this one works too!” Hashirama was unscrewing the top of his whiskey already, pouring it in to a glass that Madara hadn’t even noticed him procuring.

“Care to join in, Uchiha?”

Tobirama sat forward again just far enough to raise one thin eyebrow down the way at him mockingly. Madara scowled and crossed his arms.

“No, I believe I would rather keep my dignity intact, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Four hours and partway in to the third movie, Madara was extraordinarily grateful that he had decided to abstain. Just observing the two idiots next to him was more entertainment than the movies, distracting him well enough so he didn’t even mind that the third film was actually a Christmas-themed one. Mito had brought dinner in to them all, resigned look on her face when she spotted the open bottles, but it seemed even having food in their bellies wasn’t enough to combat the incredible rate at which the two brothers were consuming their drinks.

Watching Tobirama slide farther and farther down in his seat like his body was slowly liquefying without him noticing was quite the experience. The younger man was typically a fairly stiff and proper person, or at least he seemed so whenever Madara was around, and seeing him so loose and uninhibited was a big change. By halfway through the second movie he’d begun to cheer obnoxiously along with his sibling every time one of them spotted that stupid hat he had hung up aligning perfectly with a character’s head. Then the two of them would pour themselves another shot, both of them tossing it back like old pros. Madara had never even seen Hashirama take a shot before, let alone his stiff-necked baby brother.

He had seen Hashirama drunk by other methods, however, so it was no surprise to him when the only thing which changed about his friend’s behavior was that he lost all control of his volume and by the end of the night he was communicating only in slurred shouts. Tobirama’s transformation was more fantastic – as well as more unexpected. After the first few shots he never seemed to stop smiling and he appeared to have been attacked by a case of the giggles.

As typical of drunk people, neither of them were very aware of their own limbs after a while and Madara was dodging wild gestures long before Hashirama finally gave in and allowed Mito to lead him to bed. He was left alone with Tobirama, who couldn’t seem to stay upright in his seat, wondering for the hundredth time why he had let himself get bullied in to coming here tonight. He hated Christmas, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, and for the past few months he had hated coming over to his friend’s house for any other reason as well. Here was where he would run in to Tobirama and find himself in awkward situations like this one.

It wasn’t as though he hated the younger man, just that he had no idea how to communicate with him now that his heart had developed the habit of trying to leap in to his throat every time they were within ten feet of each other.

“What…what time’s’it?” Tobirama slurred. Madara shook off his stupor and glanced over at the fancy clock hung up across the room.

“Just passed midnight,” he grumbled. It had officially been Christmas day for a whole nine minutes so far. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. To his surprise, Tobirama slumped down a little further and looked dejected.

“Aw, I missed it then. Oops.”

“Missed what?”

Tobirama squirmed around but never managed to sit up properly so he gave in, look up at his house guest with a sheepish smile as he said, “I didn’t get a chance to say happy birthday. M’sorry.”

Madara gaped at him, jaw nearly coming unhinged in his shock. If he’d had to guess he wouldn’t have thought Tobirama was even aware that his birthday was the twenty-fourth of December and he certainly wouldn’t have expected him to care enough to give him well wishes for the day. No one had so much as wished him a happy birthday in years, getting caught up in the holiday spirit instead, and over time it had fostered a hatred for the season in him as he felt more and more ignored, unappreciated, and unimportant.

“Thank you.” It was all he managed to choke out, although he wanted to ask how the hell Tobirama had even known. The younger man smiled goofily.

“D’you want your present?”

“You got me a present? A…a birthday present? Not a Christmas one that’s just been repurposed at the last minute?”

“Mhm.” Nodding enthusiastically, Tobirama began the struggle to sit up again. Madara watched him in shock for a moment before realizing that maybe he should help a bit. Once his companion was upright he bolted off the couch with more energy than Madara had seen him do anything that wasn’t related to his beloved science. “C’mon!”

Curious and still reeling a little from the shock, Madara followed as he was bidden. He flicked the television off as he passed and trailed behind with his hands at the ready to catch his stumbling guide while they made their way down the hall, up the stairs, and in to a bedroom he’d never had occasion to go in to before. He’d certainly spent some time wondering about it though. Tobirama’s room was as obsessively neat as he would have expected it to be, although there were less books than he would have thought. Actually it was a bit sparse inside, almost giving him the impression of a guest bedroom but for the very few personal touches here and there.

Tobirama led him to a closet and opened it to reveal the top shelf that had been largely taken over by a good sized heap of gifts all wrapped in different papers and boxes.

“D’you just want this year’s present?” the younger man asked him in a confused slur. “Or do you want…like…all of them?”

“All of them?” Madara breathed. Tobirama smiled widely at him over one shoulder.

“I buy you birthday presents every year but you never come over so I can’t give them to you. Going over to your house to deliver them would be weird; I don’t want you to think I’m weird. Well…you already do but I mean, you know, more than that.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled faintly, feeling like he might fall over from the shock. “Can I open all of them?”

“Sure!”

He had to stop Tobirama from just sweeping them all on to the floor with his arms, unsure if there was anything delicate or breakable in any of the packages. Instead they brought them down one or two at a time and piled them on the floor so they could both sit down as well. Looking them over, Madara noted that all of the wrapping paper was distinctly birthday themed, covered with balloons and cakes with not a single holiday pattern to be found, and it touched a place inside him that he had tried so hard to close away from himself.

Something else he noted was the tags. Flipping them all over with care, one by one, he could easily tell which present had been for which year by the little messages written on them. Happy 23rd Birthday, Madara read the one by his foot. By his knee there was one which read Happy 26th Birthday, Madara. Nothing wild or personal of course, that wasn’t Tobirama’s style, but it was more care than anyone had shown for Madara’s special day since he was a child and his family had collectively decided that he would be getting combo presents meant to celebrate both Christmas and his birthday at the same time.

Which he’d always found incredibly unfair. Everyone else got separate presents for the two different occasions. Why should he get treated any different just because of an accident of birth?

Fingers gently ran over each and every package as Madara looked over his tiny hoard. He felt like if he spoke right at that moment he might crack open and spill some embarrassing parts of himself out over the carpet so he simply kept quiet and poked around until he found the gift meant for this year. Multicolored party hats adorned the midsized box and even though the pattern was cheesy he found he didn’t want to rip something so obscurely precious. He did want the present, though, so he did it anyway.

Inside there was a leather case with no outward clue as to what it contained. Undoing the clasps, he lifted the lid and nearly started to cry. Since when did Tobirama, of all people, know him so well? He wasn’t even sure even Hashirama would remember his obsession with ancient weaponry enough to buy him such an amazing gift. The old style blade – a kunai, his mind supplied automatically – was perfectly preserved and intricately carved. It was crafted all out of one solid piece of metal with strips of cloth around the handle to make the grip more comfortable and from just a single glance he could tell how expensive this must have been. He’d been looking for a kunai to add to his collection for a long time and never come across a piece he could afford.

Glancing up, he saw the casual way Tobirama was sprawled out next to him. He looked utterly relaxed, as though his gift wasn’t the single most meaningful one Madara had ever received, probably too drunk to realize what this revealed about him. A gift like this meant that he paid attention to Madara enough to know just what to get him that would be appreciated; it meant that he knew Madara much better than their slightly distant way of tip toeing around each other would have made one assume.

“It’s incredible.” Madara traced the edges of the setting the blade was held in, not touching it with his bare fingers. He never touched any of his collection with bare skin. “Where did you find this?”

“Kirigakure.” His head snapped around to stare at the younger man with both eyebrows shooting upwards, but Tobirama only shrugged. “I know, right? That particular style of blade wouldn’t have been used by their early civilizations so it must have been brought over by some explorers or traded in a war or something. Cool right? I saw it and I remembered you telling Hashi about the one you’d wanted to buy that you found in Suna and I thought…why not?”

“This must have cost you a fortune,” Madara said quietly. Since when did anyone other than him know anything about the history of weaponry? Everyone else always seemed so bored when he tried to talk about his collection. Tobirama shrugged and said nothing. “No don’t shrug. It’s not – this isn’t – this means something.”

“Okay fiiiine.” With a groan Tobirama rolled his eyes and crawled over to resettle himself at Madara’s side, throwing one arm around his shoulders and placed one finger against his own lips. “Just don’t tell yourself okay? You can’t know The Secret.”

“Secret? What secret?”

“No! You’re not supposed to know!”

Madara took a deep breath, looked towards the ceiling for patience, and assumed a very serious expression. “I promise I won’t tell myself.”

Tobirama looked at him for a moment, then beamed sloppily. “Good! ‘Cause you’re pretty smart so you’d probably figure out that me buying you presents all the time is a pretty big clue that I’m in love with you.”

Freezing in place, Madara blinked twice and surreptitiously pinched himself just to make sure he was actually still awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t dreaming and that Tobirama had indeed just drunkenly mumbled what Madara thought he had, time seemed to pause for just a few moments as the entire universe shifted on its axis. He looked around at all the presents piled in front of him and wondered how the hell he could have missed something like that for as long as he did. He himself had only started to notice the man at his side in that way over the last few months. If the presents were supposed to be his clue, it was clear that Tobirama had looked at him in this manner for quite a long time.

“Can I open the rest of them?” he asked faintly for lack of anything else to say, not ready to deal with the feelings crashing around inside his chest. Tobirama nodded and dropped the arm from around his shoulders so he could crawl forward to grab one for the birthday boy.

Just as this year’s had been, each present turned out to be incredibly thoughtful. With them all conveniently labeled to show the year they had been meant for, he was able to match them all up with interests he had indulged in in the past that would have made them excellent gifts at the time. His twenty-fourth birthday present was a model of the main character from his favorite new TV show that year. His twenty-fifth was a watch with a simple congratulatory message engraved on the back which would have celebrated him getting hired at his dream job.

As he unwrapped more and more gifts, Madara actually felt himself getting a little misty-eyed to his own mortification. Not wanting the other to see such a blatant display of emotion, he kept his head down and his eyes on whatever he was opening or admiring at the time. Because of that he failed to see how tired his companion was getting, the alcohol and the late hour both taking their toll until at last he dropped his head on to Madara’s shoulder with a content little sigh of exhaustion.

“Are…you okay?” Madara asked.

“Tired,” the other mumbled shortly in to his collar. Madara smiled.

“Let’s get you in to bed then. You should change first, though. Where’s your pajamas? Lots of presents in your closet but I don’t see many clothes.”

“Course not, they’re in my suitcase.” Tobirama waved a vague hand over at the corner of the room and when Madara looked he did indeed spot a suitcase laying there with the top flipped open.

“Why do you have a suitcase? Don’t you live here?”

“No. Haven’t lived here since I was nineteen.”

Deciding that he couldn’t concentrate on all these revelations and convince the sleepy drunk to change at the same time, Madara said a mental ‘oh fuck it’ and hauled Tobirama over towards the bed in the clothes he was wearing. Every time he was here Tobirama was as well, lounging around, sometimes joining the conversation and sometimes not. It was only natural to assume he lived here since he never seemed to leave.

Once the younger man had been plunked down on top of the covers and he was weakly wriggling around, trying to pull them over himself, Madara looked at him with a curious expression.

“If you live on your own how come you’re always over here, then?” he asked. Giving a quiet huff of triumph as he finally managed to sausage himself in the top cover on the bed, Tobirama closed his eyes and nuzzled the pillow.

“My apartment’s lonely,” he mumbled sleepily. “There’s no one there. I don’t like it.”

Madara swallowed thickly. “Ah. I see.” And he really could, in a way. His own apartment seemed to echo some days in a way that really brought home how lonely his life was. Hashirama was practically his only friend and on the days neither he nor Izuna was available, there wasn’t much for Madara to do but sit at home and entertain himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, pitching his voice low. Tobirama hummed and didn’t answer. Madara made a quick trip to the bathroom to grab a cup of water and a couple of aspirin then returned to lay them on the small table next to Tobirama’s bed. The pale man wasn’t quite asleep yet but it looked like he was ready to drop off any moment. After observing him for a few seconds, Madara made a spur of the moment decision and crawled on to the bed next to him, slipping under the sheets and laying his arm around the other’s waist.

“Hng?” The sound his bedmate made wasn’t really a word but it had a questioning note so Madara answered it anyway in a low whisper.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

“You wanna trade beds?” Tobirama asked in a sleepy murmur. It was a surprisingly innocent assumption, delivered in a more adorable voice than many would assume him capable of.

“No, I’d like to stay here with you if you don’t mind.”

“Like a sleepover?”

“Sure. Yeah. Like a sleepover.”

“That sounds nice.” Tobirama yawned and squirmed back to rest more closely against him. “You’re warm.”

Madara didn’t say anything to that but he didn’t need to. A moment later his companion had fallen asleep and he was left shaking his head in wonder. It was amazing what a little (or a lot of) alcohol could do to change the way someone acted, revealing secrets that had evidently been well-hidden for years.

Although he was almost unable to believe he was doing so, Madara found himself for the first time in his life blessing the existence of Christmas traditions. If Tobirama hadn’t been drinking, who knew if he would have revealed the secret stash of presents he’d apparently never had the courage to deliver to their recipient? All week he’d been dreading tonight and tomorrow morning when he would be surrounded by Christmas cheerfulness as his birthday was ignored for yet another year. Instead he’d gotten the best birthday gift he could have possibly imagined – and he wasn’t referring to the actual presents themselves.

Despite not having consumed any drinks himself, Madara was also fairly ready to sleep. Getting to do so with his arms around the man he had a massive crush on was an extra bonus he hadn’t anticipated but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth.

In the morning both of the Senju brothers would probably regret drinking so much. Opening all those gifts under the tree was probably going to be a quieter affair than he’d would have expected considering how hungover they were both likely to be. Likely he and Mito would spend most of the morning shaking their heads and looking smug – though he thought he probably had more reason to be smug than her, all things considered.

Before he dropped off to sleep Madara wondered if Tobirama would remember any of this when he woke up or if he would awaken on Christmas morning to find the man he was in love with ‘somehow’ in his bed. A holiday miracle indeed. Either way the morning promised to be surprisingly fun.

Maybe – maybe – Madara could be talked around to getting in to the Christmas spirit after all.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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