#for now: drink your milk and stay in school and keep on reading those chapter books

[deadpanwalking]

what does punk mean in gay?

This is a great opportunity to remind everyone that I'm not amenable to followers who are mentally and/or physically under 18 years of age. I'm not holding your youth against you, but as things stand, I can barely produce enough breast milk to keep up with my cat's nutritional demands—it would be irresponsible to take in another child.

[sugarakis-p2]

Big Shiggy Daddy

50 first followers special! To all my other followers you are special too. Thank you so much for reading!

Moth Shigaraki is such a good daddy, but a mean yandere, even though you are his favorite darling.

This is meant as a sequel to premonitions. However it's not necessary to read premonitions to get the gist.

Warning: non/con, sleep paralysis, death threats, kidnapping, breeding, knotting

Chapter 1

Shigaraki had fallen deeply in love with you, watching you from afar.

For years he stalked outside your house. Tortured in knowing now was not the time to reach out to you. He doesn't even know your name, but he wants all of you. It was worse when he knew that the more he came around, the more bad things would befall you. He often fapped to the one night he had you to himself. Remembering the sweet way your squeezing cunt felt wrapped around his cock and knot.

He stayed away for a long as he could manage. He loves you but does not like how poorly you treat their daughter. He understands most of it comes from ignorance of his species, but he wonders if he did not intervene if Chouka would still be alive.

He didn't care much about the child at first. She was a tether to keep your future tied to him. It was easier for him to stay away in those days. Your belly swelled. You excitably made a nursey. Threw yourself a baby shower. Insanely happy to bring a baby girl home with antennae and nubs where her wings will grow. He came in the night to inspect his offspring. She did not seem remarkable.

About the time she started walking with a lush ruff growing on her neck is when he decided to play with her in the night. Her sharp teeth were forcing you to switch to bottle feeding. She looked so much like him when he was a little larva. Soon she will need to cocoon and need more protein than you could provide with your milk. He would find healthy drunk fools and rip them apart. Pre-chewing the rump, which seemed to be Chouka's favorite meat, humming to her while she suckled the blood off his claws. Stuffing her until she was nice and plump. He looked into her wide wonderous eyes and couldn't pull his heart away from the gaze. Chouka had trapped him, pinning his love down to her.

He had to stay away while you took her to a series of doctors for years. His heart fluttered the first time her eyes lit up, and she called him daddy. The minute Chouka started talking, you started becoming a heavy drinker. You attempted to shove her into the school system during daylight hours. It was pure torture for Chouka; she began scratching around her eyes. It was concerning to the point he had to stalk the doctors and give them dreams with a few answers. He fed them information that seemed natural for your world. She has allergies to sunlight. She has a heteromorph quirk and a foresight quirk.

The high-protein diet was a massive shock to you. He did not know you were a vegetarian. A part of him found this incredibly amusing. Until he noticed you were not giving her enough meat. Shigaraki kept feeding his sweet little butterfly. Visiting at night while you worked downstairs, having finally adjusted to Chouka's sleep schedule. She taught him your language. He taught her the ways of his people, how to lie to you, to endure until this day came, when he could whisk you both away to your new home.

Years have passed, and he is thrilled about tonight; it is time. Shigaraki promised to bring Chouka to her real home when she turned eight. It was the time his premonition told him would be best for all. He had been working on your new home since the first night he knotted you. He knows Chouka will love it. She has been dreaming of this day since Daddy had promised her.

He taps on her window, and she opens it with a delighted squeal. Her underdeveloped wings flutter.

"Daddy! I missed you! Is today the day?" she jumps into his arms and kisses his face. He chirps and coos to her.

"Yes, my little butterfly. Did you put the powder in her drink?"

"Coffee, daddy. Coffeeeee."

"In her coffee?"

"Uh-huh, and I'm all packed. But daddy, I feel bad. Mommy will be scared and mad," Chouka says. Chouka had developed premonition early and is more potent at it than himself. If she says mommy will be mad and scared, then it's true. Her antennae droop, her eyes downcast and guilty. With a claw, he gently makes her look at him.

"At first, but she will get used to it. Mommy will come to understand you, and your happiness is more important. When she is pregnant with your sibling, she will be a good mommy. Don't you want to be a big sister?" He hugs her. She is abuzz with excitement.

"Yes, yes, yes. Will I have friends and lots to eat?"

"Yes, you will be treated like a princess. Three members of my flock have children close to your age. We usually gather a few times a year, but I have told them about you, and they will make an exception. I already have a special feast waiting for you, birthday girl. Go check to see if mommy is asleep."

She scampers off while he gathers her things. Nonsense things that are unnecessary but their novelty will help her make friends and comfort her on the few occasions she does miss this place.

"Mommy is in a deep sleep. I even dusted her, as you showed me, just to be sure."

"Good girl. Now gather mommy's things. It's a long trip, and we won't be coming back."

Shigaraki makes his way downstairs, tossing the living room clear. He needed a lot of space to paint the pentagram. After that is done, he places you gently in the middle, surrounded by the things Chouka decided were essential to the both of you. The finishing touch is turning on the stove and blowing out the pilot light. There will be nothing for you to come back to.

Chouka runs up to hold his hand as he activates the pentagram and ends up in your new home. He usually would be nesting in a tree, but Chouka said humans need more room with a highly secure ground. He had found the perfect cave and expanded it. He left your unconscious form to show Chouka her new room and fill it with her things. She was excited to see the new nest he had made special for her, using his ruff to soften it. He showed her the feast he made, and she made a high-pitched squeal and chittered. He left her to gorge herself as he moved you to the nest you will be sharing with him sooner or later. Sooner than you think, however.

It had been so long since he had been able to touch you. It was only for one night, and you were asleep like this. He bites his lip in desire. You are right here in front of him, and it would be so simple to feel all of you again. But he's a father now. Chouka could run in and catch him violating her mother. She is a female, and if he had caught anyone violating his daughter, he would rip them to bits. Still…. He used his dust to give him a vision. Fates and futures are not set in stone. They branch like the roots of a tree that grows into the branches of infinity. He's annoyed that fate tells him that it would end badly if he had his way like this.

Growling, he lets you rest to greet Toga and Twice with their brood. The people he finds most annoying in his flock. They are insatiable vampires with three children around Chouka's age and a teenage girl they feed off of. Chouka didn't have a traditional human celebration. She had no friends and a drunken mother who couldn't help herself, much less her daughter.

Toga insisted that a child raised as a human should have some customary things. Twice and a couple of his doubles were carrying a giant cake and several brightly colored packages. Three rowdy boys are being wrangled by the donor girl. There is a ten-year-old redhead boy he has never seen before. He looks bored with everything and can't be bothered to introduce himself.

"We didn't know if she liked vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate. So, I brought a two-tier cake with strawberry filling, the big one is a chocolate sponge, and the smaller is a vanilla sponge. Where is the birthday girl?"

"In the dining hall eating," he rasps. Staring at the new boy, not liking the look of him. Toga tsks at him.

"You're supposed to wait until all the guests arrive, Tomura," she scoffs. Shigaraki shrugs, never bothering to take his eyes off the boy. The boy is now staring back, narrowing his red-yellow eyes at him. Toga notices. "That's Haco, Dabi's apprentice. Dabi said he couldn't make it. Viv take everyone to the dining hall to meet Chouka. Twice you follow them."

"Yes, wifey," Twice says.

"Do you have any games for the kids?" She asks.

"No, I have no idea about parties. Couldn't you have at least kidnapped a girl? Where's MoonFish? Doesn't he have two girls? This is turning into a real sausage fest around my daughter," he hisses.

"Perverts tend to snatch up all the little girls. Trust me, I would love to have a little girl. MoonFish's kids are three years old. Frankly, I'm shocked he hasn't eaten them yet. Mr. Compress has a daughter. She's eleven and won't be here until later. Mr. Compress and the mother don't get along. Hey, I brought cake, presents, and games. Thank you, Toga," she snarks to him, walking away.

Chouka is a little social butterfly talking to all her new friends. The Haco boy has jagged fangs and is smiling down at Chouka. Shigaraki likes him even less. Toga is making a high-pitched squeal.

"She's a cuter little you! Her hair is black, but she is a mini Tomura! Look at her little clothes! Little human clothes!"

"I'm cute," Shigaraki huffs. Toga has already left to fuss over Chouka, who seems to love all the attention. Her tiny wings are excitably flapping. They are solid gray and will gain her color and patterns in her teens. That is when his colors changed. Mr. Compress finally shows up with his girl. She likes to steal things, but Chouka doesn't care. She is delighted to have anyone play with her. Shigaraki was already having a hard time staying away from the flames of the candles. Now they had to sing a song, he refused. The party is in full swing, singing happy birthday and waiting for Chouka to blow out the candles when you stumble in.

"Mommy, look! I have friends! Daddy threw me a party!" Chouka screams excited while the adults exchange a look. A wide-eyed look of horror and confusion twists your features. The worst is a pale, tall insect man Chouka is calling Daddy. It's very possible by his appearance. You wonder if you are going insane. You feel lightheaded, your head in a fog as you stumble towards Chouka.

"Chouka, get away from him," you mumble. Shigaraki turns to Mr. Compress as he sets down Chouka. They circle you like predators.

"It's going to be ok. I'm going to help you get out of here. The friendly-looking man in the yellow jacket says to you.

"Hell no, stay away from me!" you say as your black stars burst into your vision. Compress catches you and turns you into a marble. Shigaraki looks at Twice who shrugs, clearly fuller. Twice is an emotional vampire and drained you until you passed out.

"No worries, Twice. You did good. Alright, Chouka, it's time to make a wish," he says with a plastered smile.

"Is mommy ok," she asks with large gray eyes.

"Of course. I need to talk to mommy alone first. Come on, blow out those candles before daddy jumps into the cake," he says, lifting Chouka to blow them out on top of the cake.

You wake up with a jolt. Unable to move your limbs. Ever since you had discovered you were raped, you have been haunted by sleep paralysis. You're able to move your eyes and scream but not much else until it passes. Any time but now, your mind screams.

"Chouka!" you shout. The strange insect man is there sitting on the edge of a giant nest, looking down at you.

"Well, you are concerned for her first. That is something," he rasps. His voice sounds as if he has a two-pack-a-day habit. You sweep your eyes over him. He is a pale version of Chouka. This is must be the man who raped you all those years ago.

"Go to hell. Where is she?" you snarl at him. He cocks his head at you. The antennae on his head are vibrating with curiosity, the same way Chouka does.

"Asleep, she had a big day. I have never seen her so happy. I doubt you have ever seen her that happy," He says. Stretching out a foot to give you a tentative shove.

"Don't touch me!" you screech at him. His head cocks to the other side. A wicked grin spreads across his face.

"Try and stop me," he jeers. "What is this now?" He asks himself aloud as he rises to loom over your frozen form. You whimper in fear. Standing over, you can see just how strong he is. He's covered in lean muscles and scars. There are all around his eyes, again so much like Chouka. What is making your adrenaline pump are the teeth and bullet wounds? Somebody at some point had tried very hard to kill him and clearly failed. What hope do you have not able to move? He is pale with long platinum hair, which brushes your face as he leans down to touch you with his feelers. You try to bite at him, and he laughs. His ruff is as white as white and fluffy as the hair on his head and groin. His genitals must be internal because he is nude.

His crimson eyes rack over you, he runs his long tongue over his row of sharp fangs like he just saw something delicious.

"I like you like this. You're so cute and vulnerable," He straddles you and grabs your tits roughly. You scream as he throws his head back and laughs. His wings open and shake with excitement. They are so blue they look black. Beautiful patterns of white flash in your vision. He looks back at you and hisses.

"I wasn't able to do this last time. Oh, you filled out a bit more. It's nice being able to touch as much as I want. Do you like my wings? Do you think they are pretty? I always wondered what you would think of them."

"Stay away from me!" you growl as he continues to grope you. His long fingers, ending in jagged broken claws, are kneading your chest like a drunken teen during homecoming. Sloppy, enthusiastic, and inexperienced. He looks down at you with a severe expression. His hair creates a curtain blocking your view of anything else but his face.

"Stay away? Stay away? I tried so hard to stay away, but I couldn't. My premonition is the extremely accurate, perfect record until you survived. I was so good. You should be proud of how I stayed away and watched. I knew I would get one perfect night, and I took it. I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for anything I'm going to do to you," he snarls, ripping open your clothes. Screaming at him, you babble and beg.

"You can't. Chouka will see. Please don't!" He hesitates at the mention of Chouka.

"Hmmm. Doubt she will. She played and ran around so much she fell asleep during some kind of drawing game. Practically tipping over on her feet. It can't hurt making sure." He straightens and shakes dust from his wings on himself. It causes a haloing effect before his head violently jerks back. His entire body is vibrating and shaking so fast you wonder if he's having a seizure. Chouka does this. Then after, she would tell you horrible things. Always what horrible thing is to come. You felt like you were going insane. Unable to help your ill child and deal with the chaos by yourself. After she had said, one of her teachers would die. You had put her on several different meds for seizures, doctor after doctor, until one told you she wasn't having seizures. She has a quirk that seems to have nothing to do with her physical appearance. Proven when the teacher died the exact way she predicted.

You had forbidden her from ever using her quirk again. A thing this foul man has no problem doing. From the moment you woke, you have been trying to move. With all your concentration, you managed to twitch your pinky. You scream, startled when his hand darts out and wraps around your throat. He squeezes harshly.

"Don't you even fucking think about it! You try what you're planning. I'll rip you to pieces and feed you to Chouka for breakfast. Trust me when I say she will sleep through your screams. I don't care how much I love you; you will never take Chouka from me. She needs me. She doesn't need you," he hisses in your ear before he lets you breathe. Coughing, you struggle for air. You want to be able to move again.

"You're wrong. She needs me. I'm her mother. I raised her by myself."

"Not exactly. If it wasn't for me, Chouka might still be tortured by her drunk mother. She might not even survive you. If you weren't so pretty. If I didn't love the feel of that tight cunt. If I didn't have hope, you will be a good mommy. I would have stolen her long ago." He starts tearing your clothes off roughly. Shredding them off you with sharp claws. If he wanted to tear you to pieces, it would be easy. He must be lying about everything else. He's mentally fucking you before he physically violates you.

"I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me," you sob. He stops. Watching you with suspicion. After a few moments, a smile spreads on his face again. It makes him look evil and ghoulish as he feeds off your misery.

"That's better. I prefer that look of fear and submission. You'll see it's not so bad here. I want you to know there is nothing for you to go back to. I destroyed your home. You are in my world. Be good for me, and I'll be gentle like the first time. You loved it. Milked my knot dry."

“K-k-k-knot?” you stammer. His grin returns as he smoothly removes one shoe and sock. He kisses each toe.

"I promised Chouka a sibling. I know you may not like it at first. But once you see how Chouka thrives. How hopeless it is to leave. You will come around." He removes your other shoe and sock. He kisses each toe with reverence. Your clothes are torn apart, but he takes care to remove the rest. Kissing and licking his way up your legs. When he reaches the sacred space between your legs, he coos. He paused briefly before continuing up your body. He stops to suck and pinch your nipples, you moan. You can't stop him, and pleading won't contain him. He probably gets off on it and would continue. Your body is betraying you. Rolling your nipples between his fingers to make them stiff. He greedily sucks on one. His tongue is lapping lustfully before moving to another. The cold air is puckering your flesh.

He trails his tongue up, sucking and kissing your neck. Nipping at your jawline and chin. Forcing you to meet his eyes, he pants and grinds his heavy cock against your hip. You can feel the warmth of his leaking precum as he rubs himself on you.

"Kiss me like a lover. Kiss me like you want this, and I'll get you ready to take me. I'll go slow and sweet the way you like. Make you wet and slick," he pants.

"Can't we get to know each other more first? Fool around. Half the fun is exploring. Wait until I can move again, then it won't be so one-sided," you reason.

"Don't try to talk your way out of this. I've waited for long enough and too long. I want us to be normal for Chouka, but if you want to be a brat, we can do this the rough way," he snarls.

"No, no! I want to kiss you. You are so handsome. Your wings are so pretty. I just thought we could have a little more fun, is all. Take our time. I have so many questions," you say quickly.

"I can see the many possible outcomes of our future. I promised Chouka a sibling. I know it will be harder for you to run with child. Don't think you can bullshit me. Give in to me or not, but this is happening now," his glare is harsh, and his tone is cruel.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I'll kiss like a lover."

"If you bite, I'll bite something off."

"I know. I'll be nice if you will. Make me ready, please. I want this," your voice cracks at the end. Shigaraki is on you, his rough lips sealed over yours. They are chapped and scrap as his tongue entwined with yours. You kiss him back as best you can, and he moans in pleasure at your efforts. He pulls away visibly softer. Moving lower to kiss the top of your thighs before he parts your legs. He pulls you up so you can see what he's doing. Your eyes meet.

"My name is Shigaraki. Say it when I make you cum," he says confidently. Kissing your lips, he lightly pushes his tongue between your moist folds. Using his claws to separate your lips and kiss your clit. The kiss becomes passionate as he starts to suckle and hum. Plunging his tongue deep in you, making you groan. You can't bear to look at him. Already you feel shame in how good it feels. How good he feels. Fuck, it had been forever.

A couple of one-night stands since Chouka was born. They were not anywhere nearly as decent as this monster. He slurps. Gasping for air, he sweet talks you.

"Sweet like honey. I could live off you. I could spend hours every day drinking your nectar. Mmmm, so good. Look at me," he orders. You force your eyes open and look onto his. They are heavy-lidded with love as he licks harder. Making his way deeper as he happily eats your pussy. You don't want to. You whimper and scream as shutting your eyes. Wishing you could writhe away from the intense sensation of climaxing on his dipping tongue. His moans and hums are loud over the flapping sound of his wings.

He doesn't wipe his mouth off as he sets you down to line himself up. His lips are back on yours, making you taste yourself. His hand knits in your hair and pulls your head to the side to whisper in your ear. Whisper and mark your neck. Leaving you breathless with his raging passion.

"Bad girl. I told you to say my name. I wanted to look in your eyes and hear my name. Bad girl. It's ok. I'll give you another chance." He sucks and bites your earlobe. "I know what you like. This time when you cum you cry Shigaraki. Say it now," he commands.

"Shig-Shigaraki," you manage. His wings tremble at your voice.

"Like music," he groans. Hot and flushed as you feel the fat head of his cock demand entrance. Growling as he sinks slowly into you. Eyes rolling as he bottoms out. You never got to see what is abusing you so thoroughly. But you can tell he's huge. Creating a needy throb in the center of your being.

"It's been too long. I've needed you for too long. Be nice and take my knot," Shigaraki says as he thrusts. He kept his word. Grinding slow and deep. You begin to wonder what's wrong with you. Enjoying this sick freak. If what he says is true, he's been your stalker and rapist for a long time. You've never been frozen for this long. It's too hard to concentrate while Shigaraki sends shudders of pleasure through you with every glide along your hot walls. His dick is so large the delicious friction feels like he's starting a fire in you. Burning with lust as you blaze with him in you. Shigaraki starts laughing.

"You're body is moving. Arching into me. Gripping at my cock. You've been singing a pretty tune for me the second we started. You were so honest the first time too. I can feel it. I can feel you are about ready to cum on me. Be a good girl. Be a nice good girl and say my name. You be good, and I'll be nice." His tongue invades your mouth, causing you to moan into his mouth with each roll of his hips. You can be stubborn or give in. Remembering his cruel face when he choked you, the decision is easy. Whimpering, you sob and moan his name. Digging your nails in as he made you orgasm harder than anyone has. You cling to him as you explode in pleasure.

"Good girl. Good girl," he mutters as he humps harder and faster. Encaging you in his arms to keep you in one place as he fucks you with abandon. Growling as he lightly bites your neck. Both scream as a sudden burst of pain makes you writhe and cry under him. You don't care, the stretch you feel between your legs. You try to push him off, but it feels like your insides will go with him when he moves. You pull him back to you, digging your nails in and telling him not to move. He's hovering above you, gasping for air through his nose like an angry bull.

His wings vibrate. You can feel it in your middle. Making you writhe in pain and pleasure. Arching, you're back, striving to breathe as you painfully cum again. Scratching him as he laughs. Blood strains under your nails. He grunts, pleased with you.

"Your body is so honest. Look at you wrapped around me. Holding me tight. We really should get some sleep. Chouka wants to teach me how to make pancakes when she wakes up. It won't be so bad here," he rasps. Kissing you lightly.

Chapter 2

[btsslowburnfic]

-The Arrangement- Chapter 1

Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable add. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter summary: Let’s meet our lovely [Y/N]. Every good story starts somewhere. Buckle up for the next few months babes <3 

Chapter 1

“Nope, sorry, I have to get to my other job.” You politely declined getting after-work drinks with your colleagues like usual. It was nice of them to still invite you even though you never said yes. 

You excused yourself to the company restroom. Out with the office worker, in with the bartender. You switched shirts, put your hair up in a ponytail, and applied heavier make-up. You'd switch out your skirt when you got to the club. As dumb and gross as it was, you always made more money when you wore your questionably short shorts. Oh well, money is money. 

You sent a quick text to your brother to make sure he and your sister got to your aunt's apartment and then headed for the station. Ok. How much money do I need to make tonight? You asked yourself as you opened the banking app. You mentally calculate the amount needed to feed your siblings, pay for the bus, and utilities. Ugh Maybe Park Minho will let me stay for him tonight. He usually wanted to get out of work early to go hang out with his friends. You would be ok this week if you stopped taking the bus and ate more ramen and less real food. You sighed. You were so tired.

You walked through the black glass doors of Club Tokki. There were only a few customers right now and you immediately went to see if anyone had made coffee. Work coffee=free coffee. Luckily for you, Lisa, the woman who worked the day shift almost always needed an extra dose of afternoon caffeine and there was still enough for a cup.

“Hey doll!” Lisa greeted you. “Here, I brought some milk in as well,” she said as she poured the coffee for you.

“You are a lifesaver. Thank you so much.” You gratefully took the mug, warming your hands. 

“No problem, do you need me to do anything before I leave? I’m going to close out with those two groups first.” She asked as she rinsed off some pint glasses.

You assessed the bar looking to see what you might need over the next few hours. “Yeah, ask the bar-back to get two more bottles of Goose and a bottle of Crown. We usually go through those on Wednesdays. And maybe cut a few limes and lemons. Thanks.” You took the coffee with you to the small office and finished changing clothes. Lisa was a student so she shared your need for thrifty living, coffee, and work. You didn’t have many friends, but you knew you could count on Lisa for caffeine and getting the bar prepped. 

You walked back out to the bar, mentally preparing yourself for the night ahead. In a few minutes people like your office coworkers would stream in, treating each other to after work drinks, socializing, and networking. You used to wonder if your circumstances were different if you would be the type of person who went out after work and socialized with their colleagues. You had come to the realization that “no” you wouldn’t. You would probably go home and sleep. Maybe read. You sighed and shimmied behind the bar as Lisa started to count down the drawer. "Alright, I asked the barback for the alcohol and there's 2 cups of lines and lemons." 

"Thanks a lot babe. See you tomorrow." you waved at her and started to move stuff around to where you liked it. 

"Happy money making." she smiled and headed out. 

As predicted about half an hour later, office workers start to show up and the bar is slowly starting to fill up. Club Tokki is known for its laid back vibe so it's mostly beers and "and" drinks. Whisky and coke. Vodka and soda. Occasionally there were some younger girls here that ordered the more complicated drinks. But you got those out as well; this wasn't the first bar you'd ever worked at, just the latest incarnation. And just like that, the night starts to speed up. Minho arrives two hours into your shift for the after-dinner rush.

“Just in time dude,” you greeted him as he walked behind the bar.

“What do you need?” He asked as he clocks in for the night. 

“The bar is caught up if you want to go check section one. Shinhye has the rest of the floor.” You instructed him and used this opportunity to catch up on cleaning dishes. You caught one of the guys at the end of the bar staring at you. He was definitely good looking, and stood out with his expensive suit, silver hair, and strong facial features. Whatever. As long as he tips. You were not looking for a boyfriend. Or a hookup. You cringed at the thought of even trying to navigate dating between your work schedule and also living with your Aunt as a grown ass woman. You shook your head like it would get rid of the thought. Satisfied with the current state of the bar you took a minute to drink some water and scan the club. There were worse places you could work for sure. 

Minho came back to the bar and asked you to make some shots while he grabs some beers. Grape bombs? Is this 2012? You resisted the urge to gag, having gotten sick on them when you were younger. You placed the drinks on his tray and checked the bartop once again.

Mr. Expensive Suit dimple-face was nursing a Goose and soda. “You doing ok?” you asked him as you made your way down the bar. 

“I’m great. Thanks. What’s your name?”

“[Y/N]” you responded and started to move on to your next guest. 

“This is the part where you ask my name.” he said arrogantly. Suddenly you did not care for him as much.

“Is it? I’ve never talked to someone in a bar before. I didn't realize there was a script.” you responded sarcastically. You hated it when guys thought they could manipulate you. 

“Wow. Ok. Ok. Hard to get. I respect that. I’m Kim Namjoon.” 

“Ok Mr. Kim, is there anything else I can get for you right now?” you asked, oh so sweetly.

“No. I’m good for now.” he said, laughing to himself. He shook his head incredulously and sipped his drink.

Well maybe you weren’t going to get tipped after all. Oh well. 

The rest of the night was mostly a blur. The vodka special brought in quite a few people and you ended up going through four bottles of Goose. Mr. Kim Dimples remained, nursing only his second drink now and still staring at you even though he was trying hard to not look like he was staring. It was awkward. He was hot but sooo not your type. Which you thought you had made clear.

“Mr. Kim, are you sure you even like Goose and soda?” you teased him as you made another round checking on people. 

“You know, I am more of a beer drinker myself, but I can’t pass up a good vodka special.” he leaned to the side, getting out his wallet, and pulled out a business card.

“[Y/N], I’d like for you to take this.” he stuck it between his index and middle finger, holding it out for you to take.

“I am flattered, Mr. Kim, but I’m not interested in anything like that.” you smiled politely. 

He rolled his eyes at you.  “Believe me, I’m not asking you on a date. You are so not my type,” he said with an air of disgust. As though he was repulsed that you would have even thought he would consider asking you out. “This is a job opportunity. I work for a talent agency of sorts.”

Wow. What a dick. “Oh yeah? What talent do you see?” you gesture to yourself. “I do pour some stiff drinks and can usually tell rude guys to fuck off with a smile on my face.”

To your surprise he just laughed. “You are very funny. And I suppose some people would find you attractive. Just take the card. I think you’re the best candidate I’ve found yet.” he stood up and put on his suit jacket, sitting the business card down on the bartop.

“Rude.” you casually said, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it makes no difference to me if you accept or not. Regardless, there it is." He gestured to the card, and sat down way too much money on top of it. "Keep the change." He turned and left.  

You didn’t end up closing for Minho; the two of you both stayed since it remained steady through closing time. You were weirded out by the conversation with Mr. Kim, but having worked in a bar for the past 7 years, it wasn't the weirdest thing that had ever happened to you. You threw  the business card into your purse and forgot about it for the rest of your shift.

The remainder of the night passed without incident. As much as you disliked it, that weirdo's money helped make sure you could take the bus again the next few days. You stuffed your tips into your purse and walked home. Well. To your aunt's house. It didn't really feel like home. Just a temporary landing spot until you and your siblings could get your own place again. 

You entered quietly and washed your hands. You dutifully went through your siblings school bags, making sure their supplies and homework were where they should be. You packaged their lunches as much as you could and started a fresh batch of rice for tomorrow. All mostly in the dark so you didn't wake anyone up. Your brother was sleeping on the couch, which you hated, but he insisted on it. You were sharing the guest bedroom with your sister and your niece.

You grabbed your laptop and curled up in the corner of the kitchen to not bother anybody. I’m a 27 year old loser hiding on the floor of my Aunt’s apartment in the middle of the night. I have to wake up in 5 hours for my other job and instead I’m going to look up a website that some weird ass rude hot guy at a bar gave me. Why is this my life? You thought, and yet you pulled out the business card and entered the link. It took you to a black website with a white box asking for a code. You flipped the card over, and there it was, handwritten. You type it in and wait for the website to load, convinced it’s going to be some weird porn site with fisting or crush videos. You almost cover your eyes but to your pleasant surprise it’s a normal website. 

Seeking: a suitable adult woman for long-term companionship. Will be well compensated. Serious inquiries only. 

The text continued: If you are on this website, congratulations. You have already presented the basic level qualifications for this position. 

Ok. So maybe this was an escort service. Which I mean...if it paid better than both of your jobs and you didn’t have to have sex with people maybe you could. No. No. You talked yourself out of it and scrolled down to read more of the description,

Requirements:

Female between the ages of 20 and 40.

Flexibility in schedule

Desire to travel and attend events

Strong personality and interpersonal skills

Proficiency with Microsoft Excel and Word 

Punctuality, attention to detail, and strong organizational skills

Desired but not necessary

Non-smoker/drinks alcohol socially

Like animals 

Enjoy listening to music 

Compensation:

Position requires relocation to on-site premises and therefore covers room and board. 

Monthly stipend (click here for more information pertaining to taxes)

3 meals a day, beverages, and snacks included

Most escort services didn’t require proficiency in Microsoft Word or Excel...you were guessing. Maybe it was a legit job. Like an on-site event planner? You clicked the link contained in compensation and HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A LOT OF MONEY. 

You bit your lip and pulled up your resume. It couldn’t hurt to submit it, right? You didn’t have much to update since you had just started your office job 3 months ago. You updated the resume to include that job and listed your address as Club Tokki’s in case this was actually a sex trafficking set up. You thought about it for a another minute and then uploaded the document, took a deep breath, and hit “send.” NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: @lidda​

[otonymous]

Kissed By The Baddest CEO (MLQC Victor x KBTBB - NSFW)

Description: Old flames and prospective lovers threaten to derail your budding romance with Victor before it even begins.  How will you extricate yourselves from a web of misunderstandings?

Warnings:

NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential Trigger Warnings: profanity, jealousy, angst, exes, mentions of alcohol, bone fetishes, rough sex, 69 sex position (oral sex), mirror sex, vaginal intercourse, swallowing, size kink

Mild spoilers for Victor’s family history (MLQC); slight bending of MLQC & KBTBB canon universes via creation of original side character

Word Count: ~10K words (please set aside a good chunk of time for some fluff, angst and smut 🤣)

Author’s Notes:

First of all, a GIANT thank you to the super gracious @lin-ful​ for commissioning this Victor piece from me.  You are an absolute joy to work with and I really appreciate the fact that you gave me carte blanche to basically do whatever I wanted 🤣  I really hope you enjoy the read!  (P.S. I would never be so sadistic as to ever make you choose between Victor and Eisuke, so please rest easy 😆)

This story is especially significant to me as a writer because it represents the culmination of a number of milestones: the first time I’ve created an original character, my first attempt at writing a crossover story, the first time I’ve written in both first- and second-person perspectives.  It is also the longest single piece I’ve ever written.  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

Nb. This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1: Hello Diana

“Really Vic, I thought you were beyond name calling by now.”  

Her voice is sultry and low, smooth in your ears like the whiskey in her tumbler.  Completely at ease in a couture Givenchy pantsuit that likely cost more than one of your production budgets, she sat with her legs elegantly crossed in a leather armchair, tipping her glass to vermillion lips.  And as the flames danced in the imposing marble fireplace of one of Shanghai’s oldest and most exclusive supper clubs, they reflected off an enormous ruby ring gracing her middle finger.

Victor scoffs, taking a sip of his own whisky and glancing at you as you follow suit with the virgin cocktail he ordered on your behalf while you were in the restroom.

He was so infuriating at times, but at least it wasn’t warmed milk.

“First of all, you weren’t meant to hear that.  Secondly, I hardly consider ‘dummy’ name calling.  Far worse exists when it comes to options, as I'm sure you can attest to, Diana. You’ve used quite a few in your day.”

Amusement spreads across her fine features as she throws her head back in laughter, the sound enticing even as it disrupts the low chatter in the room.  However, none of the men looking her way seemed to mind.  She was brimming with so much joie de vivre that even you weren’t immune to her charms, smiling despite the anxiety that sat heavy in your chest from the very moment Victor introduced you to Diana Shum that evening.

You didn’t quite know why you felt ill at ease, especially towards someone who was doing you a favour by brokering a major deal on behalf of your company.  Well, more like doing Victor a favour, since he was the one who made the request.  Perhaps this was how all men felt in the presence of such a woman: elegantly confident and unapologetically vivacious, drawing attention everywhere she went.

“Are you still dredging up stories from our Oxford days, Victor?  Not very gentlemanly of you.  How do you put up with him?”  Diana turns to wink at you and the spotlight of her attention makes you feel like the only other person in the room.  “Let me assure you those boys deserved every insult in the book; one-track minds and transparent to boot.  They should consider themselves lucky I even acknowledged their sad existence.”  

“Di, you made the Prime Minister’s son cry.  You should’ve seen those puffy eyes the next morning at the swim meet against Cambridge."  

Victor raises his brows, subtle amusement colouring his expression.  And simple though it was, the sight of his handsome face so transformed by the faint smile on his lips made your heart race.  

No, there’s no way.  It’s probably just the fatigue catching up to you.  The flight to Shanghai from Loveland City must’ve been more taxing than you initially thought, even though Victor had graciously offered to let you hitch a ride on his private jet.  You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the frenzied rhythm of your heart.  The gesture goes unnoticed by Diana but Victor throws a worried glance in your direction.  You smile to ease his concerns.  He furrows his brows.

“Oh please, I should’ve ripped him a new one with the way he tried to get frisky on our date.  He’s lucky I didn’t call Soryu to deal with him and his wandering hands.”

A sudden change seeps into Victor’s eyes, dark irises softening as if focused on something miles away.  “Soryu.  How is your cousin doing, by the way?”

Diana leans back, taking another sip of her drink.  “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.  I take it you are accompanying this lovely producer to Tokyo to meet with Eisuke and wherever the Ichinomiya heir is, Soryu isn’t far behind.  In all honesty though, Vic, surely you would know better than I.  Weren’t the three of you thick as thieves during prep school?”

You perk up at the topic of Victor’s childhood.  It was a rare chance to learn about the formative years of this stone-faced man before he became the slave driver of Loveland Financial Group.  

“I was only there for a year and a half with Soryu and Eisuke before…before my mother passed.  My father sent for me shortly afterwards.  I haven't seen them since.”

Deep voice trailing off, Victor’s gaze shifts to the fireplace where it remains, as if hypnotized by the flicker of orange flames.  And as the silence stretches on, you become disconcerted to see him so uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts.  You reach out to touch him but Diana beats you to it, laying a delicate hand on top of his much larger one as it rests on the leather armrest.

The gesture is ridiculously small for how much it blindsides you — the sight of her hand on Victor’s dazzling like the light reflecting off her ruby ring.

He blinks at the touch, long lashes fluttering in the split-second it takes for him to compose himself and suddenly, the unflappable CEO is back again.  

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and we should probably call it a night.  But you have my thanks, Diana, for setting up this meeting with the Ichinomiya Group.”

It was Diana’s turn to scoff.  “Can we please dispense with the formalities, Victor?  Soryu mentioned Eisuke was having difficulty finding the right people to make this documentary on the anniversary of his Tres Spades Tokyo hotel, so it was serendipity that we bumped into each while on business in London.  It’s a win-win situation.  Meant to be.”

Meant to be.

There is a spark of something in Diana’s eyes when she makes that last statement.  It stays with you long after you part ways with Victor for the night, lying awake in your hotel room as you wondered whether the LFG CEO was already asleep in his.

Chapter 2: SOS

“You’re awfully quiet.  Should I take this to mean that you already know everything about Eisuke Ichinomiya and his chain of luxury hotels?"

Victor speaks without raising his head, leafing through the documents on his lap and stopping periodically to leave his signature with the same gold pen that marked up your reports. Its barrel glowed warm, reflecting the soft lights of the cabin of his private jet, en route to Tokyo from Shanghai.

Letting out a shaky breath, you try to steel yourself despite the rising heat in your cheeks.  Because after a night spent tossing and turning in your hotel room, you arrived at a conclusion so absurd it could only be true:  

You were in love with Victor Li.

Against all odds, the bane of your life had become your biggest ally and mentor.  All the pieces of the square puzzle that was the LFG CEO had fallen into place to form one coherent and beautiful picture:

His exacting demands transformed into standards of excellence, his workaholism a paragon of commitment and dedication.

And though you were loathe to admit it, each soft utterance of “dummy” leaving his lips made the corners of yours turn up in the goofiest of grins.

Oh god, how did it ever come to this?!  Where and when along the rocky path of your working relationship with the slave driver did you fall in love with him?  But that wasn’t even the worst of it.  If your intuition about the previous night’s events served you well, the beautiful Diana Shum was also enamoured of him.

You turn to Victor, meaning to inform him with utmost confidence that you had already conducted extensive research on the Ichinomiya Group’s charismatic CEO and his chain of casino hotels.  You even thought to throw in a snarky reminder that he himself had been marginally impressed with the presentation you gave on the topic back in Loveland City.

“Are you close to Diana Shum?”

Was NOT what had you meant to ask.  Especially in a voice that cracked like a 12 year old pubescent boy’s.  And if there was a way by which you could’ve drowned in a bottle of water, you would’ve gladly done so.  Instead, you settle for gulping it down, trying to keep your stupid mouth from spewing more nonsense in front of the man who was your de facto boss.

“Ahem.”  Victor clears his throat, long legs uncrossing as he shifts in his seat.  Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the muscles of that chiseled jaw settling firm.

“I-I’m so sorry.  It’s none of my business.  You don’t have to answer-"

“I’ve known her for a while, if that’s what you’re asking.  She’s a classmate from university and also a cousin of a friend of mine from prep school, as you’ve probably gathered from yesterday’s conversation.  Since graduation, she’s taken over her father’s role as CEO of Shum Property Developments and we’ve partnered periodically on various business ventures…”

He continues and you nod at the appropriate times, half listening as a million thoughts filtered through your head: your surprise at how unusually verbose Victor was being, the relief you felt to see that he was as determined to avoid your gaze as you were his.  Because the truth was that the longer he went on about Diana — so beautiful, polished and charming that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her even if you tried — the harder it was to keep the clouds from darkening your face.  And when Victor says,

“Not like it has any bearing on anything now, but we also dated for a short period of time…”

…It hurts to breathe.

Finally turning in your direction, Victor fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze.  “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, um, I just…wanted to know a bit more about the person who helped me and my company.  So I can better thank her later.”

You speak without meeting his eyes, hoping to placate him with a quick smile as you pretend to rummage through your purse.  Thankfully, he drops the topic, returning to his documents.  And though the rest of the plane ride is spent in near silence, the thoughts in your head have never been so loud.

Chapter 3: Sexy Bones [Victor]

She wore that dress today.  The same one she had on when she impudently stormed my office to insist that I give her company a final chance before pulling funding:

Fitted to conform to every curve, yet formal enough to be professional.  Beautifully sensual in her usual understated way.  My favourite shade of red.

“It’s my go-to outfit when I need a confidence boost,” she told me once in between bites of pudding at Souvenir.  “It makes me feel like a queen, like I can do no wrong.  Perfect for business meetings I just have to nail, you know?”

“Dummy,” I had said then, feigning dismissiveness so she wouldn’t pick up on the way my eyes kept drifting towards her lips, so soft and plush I couldn’t help but wonder if her kisses would carry a hint of caramel sweetness.

It was true that the girl could be incredibly dense at times, playing at being queen when she already ruled my heart.  Or how oblivious she was to the fact that the British doctor was completely smitten with her during today’s meeting at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel.

Dr. Luke Foster.

Completely absorbed in reading through what looked to be like a stack of medical journals, Dr. Foster had largely ignored us while Eisuke and Soryu made quick work of introducing the eclectic mix of other associates in the room:

Ota Kisaki, the so-called “Angelic Artist” whose work I was well-acquainted with, having previously spent a small fortune on his painting, Koro of My Kokoro.

Baba Mitsunari, a charming man whose handsome features were made all the more striking by the black fedora and red suit he wore.  The girl pointed out that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the cashier we saw at a convenience store earlier that day and I had to agree.

They glossed over a man named Mamoru Kishi, apparently sound asleep in one corner of the room with his face covered by a newspaper and a full ashtray by his side.

Finally, they came to Luke Foster, a blond-haired man with the air of an English gentleman.  Eisuke explained that Dr. Foster was the hotel’s on-site physician as well as a fellow alumnus of our prep school, apparently having left for reasons no one wanted to articulate the year before I transferred in.

And when the doctor finally looked up at us from his readings, his eyes took on an almost maniacal quality to see the girl standing by my side.

“Those proportions, those angles….perfect…absolutely perfect!”  He exclaimed as if in a daze, standing up suddenly and causing the reading materials to spill from his lap in the process.

He looked completely unhinged, almost like a zombie as he reached out a pale hand towards her collarbones of all places.  I stepped in front of her on reflex, only to have the doctor fix me with a piercing gaze as if he had just become aware of my existence and found it thoroughly offensive.

“Annnnd there he goes again,” Ota’s tone was one of exasperation, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the smirk that spread wide across his face.

“Ooh, Lu’s got a new victim!  Maybe now he can finally stop staring at the Boss’s girl every time she comes in to clean the penthouse!”  Baba chimes in, fingers stroking at his chin as if hatching some mischievous plan.

“Will the lot of ya shaddup!?  I’m tryin’ to sleep over here…zzz…” The man with the papers over his head gave a muffled shout before promptly rolling over onto his side.

Soryu just sighed, running a hand over his face.  And just when I began to worry that the girl was scared out of her wits, having wandered into this strange den of wolves, she surprised me by chuckling under her breath.  

Did the dummy find this funny?

“Tch, ignore them, Victor.  Let’s just get on with the presentation,” Eisuke said as he took his seat at the head of a long table.  The girl straightened up and immediately got to work, transforming into the consummate professional she always was when it came down to business.  I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watched her nail her pitch.

Taking a surreptitious glance around at her rapt audience, I stopped at Luke.  The intensity of the doctor's stare made me uneasy, the way those blue-grey eyes hovered above the scooped neckline of her red dress, tracing along her collarbones as if he were caressing them with his gaze alone.  I mentally berated myself for not putting my suit jacket over her shoulders before she got up there.

And though it was spoken under his breath, Dr. Foster’s murmur of “sexy bones” rang loud and clear in my ears.

Chapter 4: In A (Traffic) Jam [Victor]

“Victor, you won’t believe my luck!  Not only did we cinch the Ichinomiya account, I also found the perfect candidate to appear on our Mystery Finder show!”

The girl was practically breathless on the other end of the line, words jumbling together as they came a mile a minute.  And though her enthusiasm is as infectious as it is adorable, I remind myself to play it cool.  “Really.  And who might that be?”

“Dr. Foster!”

HONK!

I swerve back into my lane on reflex, narrowly avoiding an accident as the driver next to me flips me the bird before speeding away.  My heart raced, beating fiercely against the cage of my chest, but it had little to do with my near brush with death.

At this moment, I was more concerned with a man who looked like Death himself.

“Oh my god, Victor, what was that?  Are you okay?”  The concern in her voice is palpable and it makes me think of how kind and tenderhearted she is, of how easily someone could exploit that to their advantage.  “This is a bad time, isn’t it?  I’m so sorry, I’ll call you ba-”

“Don’t worry about it, just some idiot not paying attention on the road.  And what's this about, ahem, Dr. Foster?"  The name itself was unsavoury, sticking in my throat until I spat it out.  I hoped the vitriol escaped her notice.

“Okay Victor, get this: it’s like the man has X-ray vision!”

She whispers for dramatic effect, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel as I picture those slate grey eyes sweeping over the curves of her body, a lewd expression falling over the doctor’s features.  He was a handsome enough man, that much was true; intelligent and a first-rate surgeon according to Eisuke and Soryu.  Goldman confirmed as much when I had him dig up all available information on Luke Foster.  On that basis alone, many women would find him to be an extremely attractive suitor and ludicrous though it is, I can’t help but think the worst.  Luke had been quite open in his admiration of her, especially her collarbones.  What if she returned the sentiment?

In retrospect, it was a horrible idea to leave her to her work (and that wolf) in Tokyo while I returned to mine in Loveland City.  While she had the company of her coworkers, clearly none of them sensed the danger in Luke Foster that I did.  I no longer had the right to call her a dummy when I was obviously the idiot here.

“I’m telling you Victor, he can just look at somebody and tell you everything about their bone structure.  It’s too accurate to just be guesswork!  Apparently, he can remember anyone he's ever laid eyes on based on their bones.  It’s incredible.  I’d love for Professor Lucien to meet him.  If only he had the time to fly out to Tokyo…”

The girl continues and I catch sight of my furrowed brows in the rear-view mirror, deepening the longer she goes on and on about men who weren’t me.

“…He’s already agreed to be a guest on the show!  But…he did make a rather strange request."

For a moment, I can barely breathe.  The skin over my knuckles blanches as it stretches tight, my grip on the wheel growing harder as I brace for unwelcome news.  God knows what she would’ve agreed to in my absence.  Filled with a sense of dread, I had to know all the same.  “Which was?…”

She pauses, the hitch in her breath subtle but speaking volumes nonetheless.

“Just say it, dummy.”  I soften my tone in encouragement though my mind was already racing, thinking of all the ways my legal team could dissolve a contract should the girl have already signed papers.

“Well, he…he asked if he could examine my body in lieu of payment for appearing on the show.  You should’ve seen him!  He was so desperate he was practically begging and I…I just couldn't say no."  

MOTHERFUCK!

Chapter 5: Role Model

“STUPID VICTOR LI!”

You had meant to throw the rolled-up magazine in dramatic rock star fashion, sending it flying across your suite at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel to give at least a resounding smack as it hits the wall.  Instead, it flutters to the carpeted floor, barely a few feet from where you lay sprawled out on a bed much too large for a single person.

And from the surface of that glossy cover, Victor’s handsome face — all sharp eyes and chiseled jaw - staring up at you from beneath a headline that read: "Man On Top: How Victor Li Conquered The Business World.”

Man on top.  What a tease if there ever was one — especially since you’ve developed the recent habit of falling asleep to the fantasy of having the broad expanse of Victor’s muscular chest hovering over you.

“The only thing he should be on top of is ME!”

Your voice echoes in the room, empty save for you.  Even still, your cheeks burned from embarrassment over the absurdity of your current situation.  Victor Li didn’t belong to you.  Not when he had someone like Diana in his life.

Victor and Diana.  Diana and Victor.  A perfect match regardless of how the pieces fit.  And for an instant, your anger flares to remember the nonchalance in Victor’s voice when he told you that their past history as lovers had no bearing on the present, as if they didn’t look like they belonged together when you saw them just now in the lobby of the hotel, moments after you purchased the magazine with Victor’s face gracing the cover from one of the shops.

Practically ecstatic in your surprise to see him there at the Tres Spades, you were just about to call out to him when his name died in your throat, choked by the sight of the woman at his side.  Victor was escorting Diana to a limo waiting just beyond the revolving doors.  And the last thing you saw before the chauffeur pulled away was the two of them slipping into the vehicle together.

He hadn’t even told you he was coming to Tokyo.

It was only after you became aware of the fact that you were blocking the entrance to the shop that you recovered from the shock, murmuring apologies as you pulled yourself together just enough to make your way back to the safety of your hotel room.

Rising up off the bed, your feet sink into the lush carpeting as you pad over to where the magazine lay.  You pick it up and smooth out the crinkles, fingers tracing the outline of Victor’s profile as you do — gentle, as if you were touching the man himself.  And when your nose begins to tingle, you know it won’t be long before you feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“Think you could stop being so nice to me, Victor?  You’ll give a girl the wrong impression.”  

Heaving a sigh, you slip the magazine beneath a pillow on the bed.  A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was almost time for your dinner date with Dr. Foster.  Sitting around moping wasn’t an option, at least not tonight.  Lightly slapping your cheeks, you push the image of Victor and Diana out of your head and get ready to step into the shower.

Chapter 6: Hard To Swallow [Victor]

“I’m glad you remembered that you owe me a dinner, Victor Li.  And though I practically had to drag you to this restaurant, I guess the means don’t really matter if the end result is the same.  But still, what a lucky coincidence that we bumped into each other again at the Tres Spades of all places.  Now that’s something to drink to.”

Diana holds up her glass, Cabernet Sauvignon swirling as it meets mine with a delicate clink.  Under the table, the tip of her stiletto pushes against my oxfords before sliding past my ankle, inching its way up my leg.  I pull away, watching those red lips spread into a smile as I do.

“You might be the first man who’s ever been able to resist me.  Has anyone ever told you you’re one stubborn asshole?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughs at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down.  “So, tell me about her.”

“Her?”  I focus on cutting into my Kobe beef, already aware that Diana will see through my bluff.  She always did.

“Surely there must be another woman if you keep turning me down over and over again, Victor.  A girl has her pride too, you know.”

“We are not getting back together, Diana.”

“Tsk, you’re no fun, Vic.  All work and no play, all the time.  I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I start entertaining thoughts of calling you up again.”

She pouts, but it isn’t long before her eyes take on that familiar spark of mischief as she continues.  

“But seriously, tell me about your cute little producer.  That is the girl you keep rejecting me for, I presume.  I need to know about the woman who’s finally managed to infiltrate the entirety of Victor Li’s notoriously impenetrable heart.  She must be quite the lover if she’s got you wrapped around her little finger like that, pulling strings with all your friends left, right and centre.”

It annoys me to no end that the mere mention of the girl is enough to reduce me to a swooning idiot.  I fight to keep the smile off my face.

“You’ve got the wrong idea.  She’s not my lover.”  

Diana begins to protest, but her words are lost on me because I’ve stopped listening.  In fact, the only thing I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, propelled by the adrenaline racing through my veins to see him enter the restaurant.

Dr. Luke Foster.  

WITH MY DUMMY, NO LESS.

And my dummy looks…absolutely gorgeous.  Her hair is done up, leaving her graceful neck and collarbones exposed in a little black dress I’ve never seen her wear before, I realize with not an insignificant amount of jealousy.

But wait…collarbones?!

Sure enough, that surgeon is staring at her clavicle like some kind of pervert.  The sight alone incites the beginnings of a dull throbbing in my temples, no doubt exacerbated by the vice-like clench of my jaws.

I follow them with my gaze as they are led to a table for two; fixate on Luke’s face even as the sommelier arrives to make his recommendations to the pair.  The doctor stares at my girl like he couldn’t care less about the meal, as if the only thing he hungered for was precisely what I myself had desired for so long: the woman.  And she—

Just looked my way.

Surprise etches itself onto her beautiful features — the brows I had dreamt of one day lightly running a fingertip over while she sleeps lifting into a delicate arch.  And why shouldn’t she be surprised?  I had given her no indication that I had rushed over to Tokyo from Loveland City as soon as I heard what Luke had requested of her.  

But there is no nod of acknowledgement, no smile in greeting.  Just her, looking away as if she hadn’t seen me at all, her smile apologetic when she retrains her attention on the doctor.  And while it was only for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn her eyes carried a hint of sorrow.

Or perhaps I’m projecting.

Because her obvious avoidance feels like a rebuff, a sucker punch to the gut.  She’s never blatantly ignored me like that, no matter how wound up she was even during those times when I verbally tore her sub-par proposals to shreds.  The feeling of rejection sits heavy on my chest, the tie around my neck much too tight.

“Victor, are you all right?”

Diana’s voice cuts through my thoughts.  She is looking at me curiously.  I reach for my glass of wine, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of choking.  “Of course, what could possibly be wrong?”

“ ‘What’s wrong’ is the fact that you haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes.  Even if there’s no chance we’ll ever get back together again as you so adamantly insist, the least you could do is pay attention to the person you’re sharing a meal with.”

I take a deep breath, more than a little disconcerted by the girl’s ability to affect me.  “Of course.  My apologies, you’re absolutely right.  Please, continue.”

Across the candlelit table, I look Diana in the eye, resolved to keep up at least the pretence of being interested in what she had to say when all I wanted to do was storm the table where Luke sat with my girl.  With each sideways glance in their direction, my grip tightened on my utensils to see them chatting, seemingly engrossed in the world’s most interesting conversation.

And when she hands over a manila envelope to the doctor, my heart skips a beat.

Could it be…marriage documents?!

One tiny corner of my brain berates me for how ridiculous I am being but when it comes to her, I simply can’t help it, and the fantasy in which I casually stroll over, flip the table onto Luke Foster and steal my girl away in a bridal carry becomes so vivid in my mind’s eye, it almost seems like a good idea.

Diana excuses herself to use the restroom and I pounce on the opportunity to send the dummy a text:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 7: Choked Up

“Is there something wrong, Dr. Foster?  You haven’t touched your meal.”

You do your best to school your expression into one of polite neutrality as you take in the strange sight of the pale, blond-haired man shaking out an alarming number of pills onto the palm of his hand, tapping loudly on a bottle seemingly produced out of nowhere.  He pops them all into his mouth at once and you pray you won’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver as he chases them down with a few gulps of water.

A smile spreads across the doctor’s lips as his eyes fall upon your collarbones once more.  You were used to feeling like a third wheel by now, even when alone with Luke Foster, given his penchant for carrying on conversations while staring intently at your bones.  But you took no offence at his behaviour, especially after Baba’s attempts to give you insight into Luke’s peculiar mannerisms:

“Try not to take it personal, Miss.  Lu will look at anyone who’s got beautiful collarbones.  It’s a well-known fact that he’s obsessed with the boss’s - he's even framed the X-ray films of Eisuke’s bones.  He likely just wants yours to add to his collection.”

Strange though it was, the request that Luke be allowed to have X-rays films of your collarbones in exchange for appearing on Miracle Finder was innocent enough.  Certainly nothing that warranted the stony silence you received on the other end of the line when you called Victor the other day to tell him that Dr. Foster wanted to examine you.  After a brusque “I have to go,” he had hung up.  No goodbyes, not even a mutter of “dummy.”  

But Luke Foster had been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, never once laying a hand on you.  Moreover, he even insisted on paying for tonight’s meal despite the fact that you had invited him as thanks for appearing on the show.  

“Please, just call me Luke.  Vitamins and water are all I need to survive.  I only ordered because Eisuke said it might be awkward if you seemed to be the only one dining.”

“I-I see.”  You smile, taking another bite of wagyu.  And for a moment, you are too wrapped up in the blissful way it seemed to melt on your tongue to be disconcerted by the strange events of the evening.

You weren’t, however, too distracted to continue throwing surreptitious glances in Victor’s direction, fighting to keep composed each time Diana’s laughter carried over to your table.  What were the chances that you’d find yourselves at the same restaurant in all of Tokyo?  You know that he knows you are here; even Chik couldn’t put on a performance convincing enough for the LFG CEO to believe for a second that you didn’t see him.

With your dismal acting skills, you definitely didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re in love with him.”

COUGH, COUGH!

You clear the steak lodged in the back of your throat with a few hacking coughs, half of your face hidden behind your napkin as you tried to be as discreet as possible, the words “Death by Wagyu” flashing through your mind.  After soothing your throat with a sip of wine, you ask:

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in love with that man sitting just over there with the woman dressed in red.  That Victor fellow who accompanied you to that first meeting with Eisuke.”

For someone who seemed to pay very little attention to matters that didn’t concern bones, Luke Foster was surprisingly perceptive.  Or maybe you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and it was obvious to all but yourself that you were staring at the golden couple.

“I…how did you...what makes you—”

“Please pass this message on to him for me.  If he doesn’t treat your collarbones with the respect they deserve, he can’t blame me for swooping in to take his place.”

Then, for the very first time that night, Luke Foster looks you in the eye, the intensity in blue-grey irises making your breath hitch when he says: “Until then, I hope you find happiness with him, Sexy Bones — especially since he also seems to be exceedingly fond of you.  Quite the annoyance, really.”

And for the very first time that night, you smile freely, naturally, at Luke, blushing hard as you contemplate his words.  Suddenly bashful, you drop your gaze only to catch sight of the manila envelope you brought with you.  You pass it across the table to him.

“Here.  Your payment for agreeing to appear on Miracle Finder.”

The expression on Luke’s face can best be described as euphoric when he takes the films from you, momentarily excusing himself from the table as he murmurs something about requiring brighter lighting to examine them.

That is when you hear the buzz of your phone from inside your purse.  And when you finally fish it out, you see a single text from Victor, commanding as always:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 8: Green-Eyed Monsters [Victor]

“Another whiskey on the rocks for you, Sir?”

I nod to the bartender, watching as he chips away at a block of ice to produce a perfect crystalline sphere — still spinning in the glass when he pours the amber spirit over it like a libation.  It almost takes my mind off the fact that the girl is late.  By exactly ten minutes, according to my watch.  And for a moment, I’m gripped by a sense of panic when I consider the possibility that she might not come.

She never did answer my text though I knew she saw it — having witnessed her reaching into her purse to pull out her phone seconds after I sent the message.  And while the logical part of my brain is telling me I’m being an absolute idiot, worst-case scenarios are already running through my head: the girl is side-swiped by a car while crossing the street, or somehow managed to fall into an open manhole and is currently standing knee-deep in sewage.

Or maybe she is pinned to the wall in a dark corner somewhere, hemmed in on either side by the gifted hands of a world-class surgeon by the name of Luke Foster.

I lift the glass to my lips, too impatient to even savour the smooth burn of the drink as I reach for my phone to send her another text.  That is when I see her:

Cheeks flushed and chest gently heaving as if she had rushed to get here.  An errant lock of hair falling from her up-do, framing that beautiful face like I had dreamt so many times of doing with the palm of my hand.

She makes her way towards me in that dimly lit bar, and though I’m aware of the faint ticking of the second hand of my watch, time may as well have stood still.  Because I could have lived in that moment forever, gazing upon the light in her eyes as if they held every last star in the sky, as if those heavenly bodies had fallen just for her in precisely the same way I had: deeply, irrevocably.

And I know there is no turning back.

“Victor, sorry I’m late!  What are you doing here in Tok—”  

“Why did you ignore me?”  My voice comes out stern, even to my ears, and I curse myself for losing my cool around her yet again.  The girl furrows her brows, eyes dropping from my face to the half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the counter.  And when she looks up again, something in her countenance has changed — soft surprise giving way to a hardened expression.

“If it’s the text you’re referring to, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze as she perches on the stool beside me.  “Surely you wouldn’t have wanted me to interrupt your dinner date, especially when you and Ms. Shum seemed so intimate.”

Intimate?

The bartender approaches, interrupting our conversation before I get the chance to formulate a reply.  “What can I get for you, Miss?”

“She’ll have a glass of warmed milk—”

“Whiskey.  On the rocks, please.”

She speaks over me, turning slightly in my direction as she does.  I ignore the murmur of “Ladies’ choice” from the bartender as well as the smirk on his face as he begins preparing her drink.  The thinly veiled challenge in the girl’s expression — elbow propped up on the counter with her chin resting atop a loose fist — only serves to highlight how incredibly alluring it is when she pushes back.

“Hmm.  Bold.  Since when did you start drinking whiskey?  I don’t think you need me to remind you of your non-existent alcohol tolerance.  Besides, didn’t you already have enough to drink at dinner?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Victor Li,” she says, reaching for the glass the bartender sets down before her.  She takes a moment, staring at the rich, golden hues before finally taking a sip.  I fight to keep the smile off my face when hers pulls into a grimace from the sting of the alcohol she clearly wasn’t familiar with.  Dummy.

“I’m surprised you even noticed me at all, not with the lovely Diana there.  But I guess old wounds really do have difficulty closing, no matter how much we say they’ve healed.”

“You’d have to ask for the expert opinion of your overly friendly doctor about that.”

“Excuse me?”  She sets her drink down a bit harder than likely intended, sending the liquid sloshing about the glass to kiss the pink of her lipstick imprinted on its edge.  

I don’t like where this conversation is going, the ill-disguised barbs only serving to increase the tension between us.  It was foolish to have what should’ve been a very private discussion in a public space but, as always, the thought of her and Luke together is enough to make me forget my place and position, throwing caution to the wind and behaving with reckless abandon.

And still, the heat beneath my collar goads me on.

“Luke Foster.  The one you’re so enthralled with that your manners seem to have been completely swept from memory.  I presume that’s the reason why you didn’t acknowledge my existence when you saw me in the restaurant.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she leans in close, voice dripping with sarcasm: “Just like how you didn’t remember to tell me you were coming to Tokyo?  Or maybe you weren’t planning on telling me at all, since it clearly looked like you weren’t here on business.  But then again, I guess your business is none of mine.”

I don’t know whether I want to push back or kiss her senseless.

Instead, I settle for a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check.  Having a heated argument with her was not how I had intended my evening to go.  In fact, my entire day had not proceeded as planned, and if I hadn’t been accosted by Diana as soon as I stepped foot in the Tres Spades hotel, I would have been having dinner with the woman who occupied all my thoughts, all the time.  At the very least, I could’ve saved her from the clutches of a pervert doctor.

I glance in her direction, study the beautiful melancholy of her silent profile as she watches the ball of ice slowly melt into her drink.  Then I take another sip of mine, steeling myself for reparations I desperately needed to make.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely.  Diana Shum and I dated shortly after graduation for all of two months before we decided to part ways on amicable terms.  We make for much better business partners than we ever did romantically, and while she has expressed occasional interest in rekindling our relationship, I have never been of the same mind.  I can assure you this will never change.

“The reason I came to Tokyo is not because of her — professional or otherwise — but because I was in a rush to prevent a certain dummy from doing anything she’d regret later on.  But…”

I knock back the rest of my whiskey, emptying the glass.

“…I’m afraid I’m too late.”

She looks at me now, eyes wide as if she were still processing the words.  Her next question comes on a whisper: “Why would you be too late?”

And it is my turn to look away.  

“Well, you seemed to be pretty intimate yourself with Dr. Foster during your dinner date.  I can only presume that…”

The girl moves closer and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her mouth — the tremble of her lower lip, full and pink and lush.  Without thought, I allow my gaze to trace along the graceful column of her neck, settling at the delicate notch between her collarbones and in that instant, I come to a visceral understanding of the extent of Luke Foster’s obsession, for mine was magnified a million times over:

I yearned for the entirety of this woman before me — needed her for myself, now and forever.

“Presume what?”  Her voice is low, shaking.

“I can only presume that you’ve already allowed him to…examine your body.”

There is a moment of silence — each torturous second seeming to stretch into eternity to smother the last embers of hope.

“I have…”

Oh god.

“…given him X-ray films of my collarbones as he requested.  That is all.  He’s never touched me, not even once.  I took him out to dinner tonight so I could give them to him as thanks for appearing on the show.”

Petty.  Sheepish.  I felt all these things, but none so powerful as the staggering sense of relief that washes over me to hear her say these words.  Closing my eyes, I let the revelation sink in, finally feeling like I can breathe for the very first time that night.

Chapter 9: The Big Bang

You don’t quite know what made you do it.  

The ambience of the bar, perhaps: sultry jazz and flickering candles purposefully placed to create just enough shadows for a veil of privacy.

Or maybe it was the crestfallen uncertainty that painted the handsome features of Victor Li’s face, his sudden display of vulnerability both novel and endearing.

Most likely however, it was the way in which his downcast expression morphed into one of ecstatic relief when you told him that Luke Foster had not laid a single finger on you.

Because when Victor tilts his head back, eyes closed and sighing deeply as if some unfathomable burden had been lifted, you cannot help but bring your lips to the Adam’s apple bobbing along the length of that strong, thick neck.

Cedar wood and pine.  

The notes of his cologne are so familiar you didn’t realize how much you missed his scent until you literally came face to face with it.  Victor is warm, so very warm beneath the skin of your lips.  And under your touch, you become vaguely aware of the fact that the rise and fall of his chest has stilled.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned your sanity for how boldly you were behaving, especially towards someone who was your boss.  You had never been one to put yourself out there when it came to matters of the heart.  Something about the moment however, about Victor, made you feel like the one thing you could not do was let this chance pass you by.

So when you hear that shuddering breath, feel the faint scratch of his five o’clock shadow when he nuzzles against you in return, you know you’ve made the right gamble.  Being with Victor Li feels right.  And the surreal sense of belonging you find within the embrace of his muscular arms gives you the courage to say, “You must really believe I’m a dummy if you think I’d let any man other than you touch me.”

He slides a finger beneath your chin, gently lifting until all you can see are those jet black eyes, swimming with heat and emotion.  The sudden silence of your surroundings sinks in: no more music, no idle chatter.  Not even the rustle of limbs moving about in the dimly lit bar.  And there, in the strange privacy of suspended time…

...Victor kisses you.

                        *                                     *                                      *

“Are you sure…this is…what you want?”

The deep timbre of Victor’s voice sends a thrill vibrating along the surface of your skin as he questions you between kisses — laid on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the pulse of your neck.  His firm body presses you into a corner of the elevator, empty save for the two of you writhing in unison against a mirrored wall.

Each movement of his soft lips against yours is purposeful, imbued with meaning: longing in the gentle teeth that nibbled on your lower lip before drawing it into his mouth, in the sensual slide of the tongue that sought yours.  Affection obvious in the hands that rose to cup your face, thumbs tracing circles on the apples of reddened cheeks to tell you in no uncertain terms that Victor Li belonged to you as much as you yearned to belong to him.

So you had no qualms about answering in the affirmative, nodding your head because the press of Victor’s muscular thigh between your legs already left you breathless and wondering whether he could feel your wet heat seeping through your panties.

And all he really did was kiss you.

Ding.

The elevator stops at your floor and even before the doors slide open, Victor has hoisted you up, wrapping your legs tightly about his tapered waist and whispering into your ear, “Which room?”

You knew Victor was fit, had seen him move fast and effortlessly through the waters of his Olympic-sized swimming pool that one time he had you deliver a report to his mansion on a Sunday.  And yet, you could not help but admire the sheer perfection of his physique — the bulk of his biceps, flexed beneath strained layers of clothing; the ease with which he carries you all the way to your suite.

And when he sits you down upon the king-sized bed, you wonder if it is, in fact, too small for all the things you cared to do with him.

The LFG CEO shrugs off his suit jacket, loosening his tie just enough to pull it over his head before dropping to kneel at your feet.  You watch him reach for you, shiver when he caresses the sensitive skin behind your knee with a light graze of gentle fingertips.  Large hands trail down your calf — touch barely there and teasing — until his palm finally cups the heel of your stiletto to slide it off your foot.

He looks up at you then, the intensity in ebony irises rendering you still and mute as you patiently await his next move despite the frenzied pounding in your chest.  There is a stroke of something almost feral in the dark depths of the gaze that falls heavy upon you — searching your eyes, lingering on your lips…tracing the neckline of your dress.

“I’ve never seen you wear this dress before.”  Victor says, taking the same amount of care to remove the shoe from your other foot.

And if you were able to think straight under the influence of his touch — the hands that pushed back the hem of your dress as they roamed higher and higher up your thighs towards your heat — you might have found it strange that Victor was choosing now, of all times, to comment on your wardrobe choices.  As it was, you answered without second thought: “It’s new.  I bought it especially for tonight’s dinner.”

Victor stills and when he speaks again, there is a faint tremble in that voice, as if fighting to contain some unfathomable emotion.  

“The doctor couldn’t stop staring at you.  I know because I was the same way.  I couldn’t look away from the moment you stepped foot in that restaurant.”

The revelation leaves you silent, waiting with bated breath for Victor to continue.

“Forgive me…”

Fingers entwine with fabric, gripping tight.

“…but I can’t stand the thought of you looking so beautiful for anyone else.”

RRRIIIIPPPP!

You fall back, wincing at the sound even as you feel your body respond to the sudden shock of having your dress torn right down the middle.  Victor’s display of brute strength was so at odds with the façade of composure he was synonymous with and yet, there was no denying that you were incredibly aroused by this show of power — by the fact that he was now straddling you on all fours like some wild beast, tearing away the rest of your undergarments to leave you completely bare.

You’ve never been so desperate to feel him inside you, deep and rough and untamed.  The thought throws you into a frenzy of lust.

Digging your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, you yank it open to send buttons flying in haphazard directions, but the only thing that concerned you was the sight of that broad chest and muscular torso, so impressive it actually elicits a moan from your lips and a smile from his in return.

Propping yourself up onto your knees, you press against him, flesh to flesh — one hand running over the burning surface of his skin even as the other tugs at the buckle of his leather belt, impatiently moving to palm him when his dress pants fall and gasping to finally see and feel the full extent of the LFG CEO:

Victor Li is rock hard and intimidatingly large.

And the sight makes your mouth water.

Sinking onto your heels, you trail your lips along Victor’s chiseled body, tongue teasing at his nipples as you do and relishing the catch of his breath in his throat.

But just as you begin to lay kisses along the deep V of his abdomen with the intent of tracing lower and lower, Victor stops you, puling you up for a kiss before laying back on the bed and positioning you above him…

…with his face between your legs.

“This way,” he says, voice muffled, and you might have commented on his inability to relinquish control even in the bedroom were it not for the sensation of his flattened tongue sweeping hot and wet along the seam of your already dripping pussy, teasing from end to end.

The sensation is so intense it’s almost unbearable.  You throw your head back, mouth dropping in a silent scream as you sink onto Victor’s face, fighting the instinct to grinder lower onto that talented tongue despite the encouraging grip of Victor’s hands, strong on your hips and thighs.

“I’ve wanted to taste you…for so long,” he murmurs, sucking the swell of your clit into his mouth and humming in approval against moist flesh to hear you moan above him.  “Your flavour is absolutely exquisite.”

Gathering your wits, you fold forward — intent on giving just as much pleasure as you were receiving.  Victor twitches once within your grip, not quite contained by the circumference of your palm and fingers, running up and down the sizeable length of his cock, hot in your hand like his breath on your slit.  And after placing a few wet kisses on the smooth, hard head, you open your mouth to taste him.

The tepid salt of his arousal.  The groans originating from deep within Victor’s chest each time your lip brushed past the tender underside of his cock.  The subtle rhythm of his pelvis, lifting in time to your mouth swallowing more of that solid shaft, quickly becoming slick with your saliva.

And then you catch sight of your reflection in the mirrored closet.  See the bulge of Victor’s bicep as he grips your hip, the flex in the muscles of his neck when he lifts to bury his face deeper into your folds.  See yourself: hair disheveled and eyes half-lidded, drunk on sex.  Observe the messy smear of your lipstick as your mouth stretches to accommodate more and more of your boss’s cock.  And when the tip of Victor’s tongue begins its relentless tease of your clit, you watch as a most debauched expression falls over your features, the tension in your body breaking as you find release on his lips.

You are still shaking when he enters you, sensitized by an orgasm that left tiny sparks of electricity running along every nerve, priming you for second helpings.  A true paragon of patience, Victor Li takes his time, deliberately slow as he pushes — savouring the sensation of drenched, swollen flesh parting just for him.

It was almost unfathomable that you could experience such extreme pleasure, each powerful swing of Victor’s hips driving him deeper into your body — hitting just the right angles until your very senses were extracted along with your second release of the night, running slick between your legs to ease the slippery slide of your bodies.

It draws out Victor’s own, your lover moving to pull out moments before you surprise him by taking him once more into your mouth — gaze locked onto those dark eyes from below as you taste him on your tongue, euphoric to see him bite his lips when your lick yours to swallow every last drop.

Chapter 10: Pillow Talk

Beep Beep Beep Beep.

You roll over, eyes still closed as you reach out to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.

Except your palm comes down on warm flesh with a resounding smack, echoing throughout your hotel room and accompanied by a deep voice that says, “Are you finally awake, Dummy?”

Your eyes shoot open to see Victor lying naked in bed next to you, a splotch of red blooming on his chest where he had been attacked.  He sets his phone down to hand you a glass of water from the bedside table, and even though memories of the previous night come rushing back to burn your cheeks, you cannot help but notice how glorious he looks bathed in morning light.  You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand shakes when you accept the glass from him with a meek “Thanks.”

Victor clears his throat, waiting for you to finish drinking before he says, “That was the fourth time you slept through the alarm.  I’ve already informed your colleagues you’ll be taking the day off.  We didn’t get much sleep last night and I think you’ll need some time to…recover.”

You bite your lip, turning sideways to feign a sudden interest in the curtains so he wouldn’t see the giant smile spreading onto your face.  It was almost surreal that Victor Li was your lover, and if it weren’t for the exquisite soreness you felt between your legs, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it for yourself.

The sheets rustle and before you know it, Victor has his chest pressed up against your bare back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on it.

“How are you feeling?”  He asks.

“Okay.  Pretty good, actually.”  It was too early in the game to tell him you were already doing cartwheels in your mind.

“Good.  I’m glad to hear that because I found this under your pillow…”

He places something in your hands.  Your eyes widen when you recognize the magazine with his face on the cover.

“…And this ‘man on top’ wants to know what it feels like to have this woman on top of him for the rest of the day.”

You’ve made it to the end! 🤩 Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚 

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

*birthday special* (m)

a/n: Today is my birthday so I thought I write a special were Y/N has her birthday too. Some requested this a long time ago but idk if you still read my story haha This scenario doesn’t fit now in the story so it’s just a random chapter. I just want to thank you all on this way either because this blog is almost 1 year old (I think i started the daddy!jaehyun series in September). Thank you all for reading it, writing me in the ask or private (even if i’m in stressful times the worst responser lol) but I’m always happy to come to the blog and that we are all such a lovely and small community. Thank you so much for everything ❤️

"Happy Birthday, Y/N!" Jihe raised her glass and everyone else followed. "Actually, it's not my birthday yet." You smile uncertainly to the group and lower your arm with your non-alcoholic champagne. "But in two hours it's midnight and then it's your birthday. So we'll let that go." Johanna smiled and then took a sip of her champagne. Besides Jihe and Johanna, two other mothers from the neighborhood, with whom you also became friends last year, were with you together at a late dinner and celebrating your upcoming birthday. "Does the non-alcoholic champagne taste good at all?" Asked Jinsoo, one of the neighborhood mothers. You liked her, she was always a bit funky, had two sons and was a lot alone because her husband was an important CEO. "Well, real champagne is better, but I'm still breastfeeding the twins," you explain with a shrug. You really didn't mind not drinking alcohol. "A few sips are not that bad. In the two months that I breastfed my son Insoo, I also drank a sip of champagne every now and then." Haejin was the other neighborhood mom that you became friends with. In the beginning you never thought you would become friends. She was a classic Gangnam woman who had a tons of plastic surgery. Her husband was also an important CEO. She was the oldest in the group, but she still looked incredibly young from her surgeries. Her oldest daughter is the same age as Miga and you met in kindergarten. Her son is a year older than Sunoh, but they really like each other. "I'm glad I no longer have to breastfeed. It was just exhausting for me," said Johanna with a sigh. "But I miss those breasts." Jihe pointed to your neckline and laughed. You wore a tight dress today that mainly emphasized your breasts. But because you are still breastfeeding two children, it was clear that they were still plump. "Honey, a doctor can do that for you too," Haejin said with a wink. "I only make them when I'm sure that I don't want to have any more children," Jihe said, which surprised you. "Do you and Minhyuk want another baby?" You ask very excitedly. "Take it easy Y/N." Jihe laughed because she knew you loved the subject. "Minhyuk and I are just wondering whether this question is still in the room. But my company is doing very well right now and I think it's not so beneficial if I'm gone for a while because I’m." Jihe sighed because it is a difficult subject for her. "Would you like to have another child?" Jinsoo asked her then. "Sangjun is enough for me. But Minhyuk thinks it would be cute if he has a little brother or sister." "Don't let the men persuade you. One child is enough," said Johanna then and took another long sip of her champagne. "Nevertheless, Minhyuk is allowed to express his opinion. But we still talk and think about it." Jihe then smiled and then looked back at you. "But whatever, what has Jaehyun planned for your birthday?", She asked and the looks were on you again. "We'll decide spontaneously. I just want Jaehyun and the kids with me." "Oh, let somebody take care of your children and let your husband take care of you properly. With children you get far too little of the big O anyway." Haejin raised her eyebrows and looked at you. "Oh, I get orgasm often enough." You wink and take another sip, but you get surprising looks. "You have four children? How?" Jinsoo then asked. "Well, Miga goes to school, the twins sleep a lot and Jaehyun is back at the house a lot too. But if he works more, we don't have that much time for it. And we still have my sister who helps too. We get so our time." You smile and look around. "My husband and I hardly have sex after giving birth," Jinsoo admits. "To be honest, I don't really feel like it," said Johanna then. Then Haejin turned to you and looked at you. "So Y/N, what's your secret?" You had to laugh. There was no secret there, it was just love.

When you get home everything was very quiet. First, you look for Miga in her room. She lies in her bad, was turned to one side, and slept with her plush bunny. Then you look for Sunoh, who was lying on his back and snoring softly. You giggled, cover him up a little more, and then go into the bedroom. The TV was still on, but Jaehyun and the twins were asleep in bed. There was a baby on each side and next to them were the empty bottles. After Jaehyun fed them, the two must have fallen into their feeding coma immediately. You put down your handbag and pick up Geon. He woke up briefly and looked at you. "Hey baby, it's just Mummy," you say gently and Geon started to smile briefly and closed his eyes again. You then put him in his place and then pick up Kiwoo. He woke up too but looked back and forth desperately. At first, he got restless, but when you put him back to his brother, he closed his eyes again. "Hey, are you home yet?" Jaehyun was awake now and sat up. "It's already 2 am." You lean over to him and then kiss him. "Was it nice?" Jaehyun then asked. "Yeah totally. They gave me a girls-spa-weekend as a present. So you have to be alone with the kids for a weekend soon." You smile and clear away the empty milk bottles and take off your dress and put on a long shirt from Jaehyun. "I can do it. All the children are still alive." He grinned and pulled you to bed. "Yes, you are right. You did a really good job." You smile and see Jaehyun's face approaching you. He looked deep into your eyes and pushed the strands of your hair behind your ear. "Happy birthday to the love of my life," he said quietly and was still very close to you. You look deep into his eyes until you suddenly feel his lips on yours. His hands wandered over your breasts, but this time he didn't stay there, only his fingers stopped at the hem of your shirt. "Aren't you tired anymore?" You ask him, but Jaehyun shook his head. "Not anymore. Besides, today is your day." He smiled and then sat up. "Okay ..." you whisper and then just let him do it. Jaehyun spread your legs very carefully and sat in front of your middle. He pushed your panties down and threw them next to the bed. You push your shirt up to under your breast. Jaehyun placed his hands on the inside of your thighs. You love this feeling when his face is so close to your hot middle. Your whole body vibrated. It's like some kind of drug is flowing through your blood. You inhale deeply and when you exhale his tongue was already on your intimate lips. His pressure increased quickly and the tip of his tongue played with your clit. "Jaehyun ... ahhh ..." you moan softly and your fingers clung to the sheets. But your positive reaction caused Jaehyun to increase the pressure. You hear him smacking and it almost seemed like he was enjoying it too. He put his arms under your legs and clutched them around your hips so he can bring your body closer to him. With the increasing pressure, it became more and more difficult to stay still in bed. With every moan, your hips rise. Jaehyun had to keep pushing you down so he could continue. But he also liked that you liked it so much because that was his goal too. "Ahh ... I'm coming ..." You bend up slightly, start moaning louder and your fingers were firmly in the sheets. At some point, your whole body shook and Jaehyun knew that you had reached your climax and now his only job was to hold you tight. After a few seconds your body calmed down, but your pulse was still high. "Happy Birthday," said Jaehyun with a wink and sat up. He cleaned his face with a handkerchief and then lay down next to you to kiss you gently. "Thank you," you say quietly and smile with satisfaction. "It's your birthday." He then took you in his arms and you two slowly fall asleep.

You decide to sleep late. Jaehyun helped you and took the twins and bottle-fed them. You only hear briefly how Miga and Sunoh came into the bedroom, but Jaehyun said that they should let you sleep. It has been the first day for a long time where you could sleep as long as you wanted. Nobody bothered you, nobody wanted your breasts. But at some point, it was too quiet for you. You wanted to see your children and Jaehyun. That's why you get up at, pull something over you, and go down the stairs. And when you got into the kitchen, a surprise awaited you. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUMMY!" Shouted Sunoh and Miga. The whole table was decorated with flowers and a large breakfast. The babies lay peaceful in their cradle while Jaehyun made the coffee. "Ohhh that looks so nice." You kneel down and your two oldest children ran into your arms. "Just for you Mummy," said Miga and giggled. "Thank you, sweetheart." You kiss her, but Sunoh wanted a kiss right away too. So you kiss him also and hug the two tightly again. "We have presents for you too," said Miga and started jumping up and down. "Let Mummy have her coffee in peace and then she can open her presents." Jaehyun put your cup on the table and came up to you. He kissed you and smiled. "Happy birthday again." He grinned and took your hand. "I am very surprised. You prepared everything on your own and took care of Miga, Sunoh, Kiwoo, and Geon at the same time?" You were really surprised that it all worked out so well. "Well, Miga did most of it." He winked and stroked his daughter's hair. "I put everything on the plate and decorated it." Miga proudly showed what she did. "And you, Sunoh?" You then ask your son. "Sunoh was the taster." Jaehyun laughed and sat Sunoh on his chair. Sunoh giggled and put his fingers to his mouth. "So everyone had their job." It was really cute how everyone put so much effort into it. And when you sit at the breakfast table with the people you love most, you see again that you have everything you ever wanted. Nothing can be worth more than this little family.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[anauthore]

Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader}

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it's not just because you can't seem to find your little brother. 

**Pairing: **Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Next Chapter

~PROLOGUE~

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…

Except it wasn’t Christmas, or anywhere close. Instead, you recited the familiar rhyme to your little brother for what felt like the thousandth time. Despite it being extremely out-of-season, this is the only bedtime story he would fall asleep to, and if it wasn’t A Visit from St. Nicholas, then it was out of the question. You knew almost every word by heart, barely glancing at the pages and instead opting to check every so often to see if your little brother had fallen asleep yet. You could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, and even though he was on the verge of being whisked away to dreamland, he still held on to every last word.

“...happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

You whispered the finishing line and just like that, his quiet snore filled the room. You gently closed the book and sat it in the nook on the shelf that it came from. You tiptoed away as silently as possible, leaving his dinosaur night-light on and shutting the door before you let out a breath you’d been holding to avoid making any unnecessary noise.

You walked down the carpeted hallway toward your kitchen, opening the fridge and searching the mostly-empty shelves for something- anything- to eat. You settled on a half-eaten container of hummus and some crackers that had been left out on the counter for God knows how long.

You were 17, almost 18, jobless and living in an apartment with your father and little brother. He worked long days, barely ever home to spend time with his kids in order to support them. Despite feeling lonely most of the time, you appreciated it immensely because, in the end, it was WAY more than your mother ever did. Your apartment was what real estate agents tend to call “cozy”; nestled in between the edge of a good-sized city and a large expanse of unkempt forest, you often prowled around outside to be completely alone with your thoughts.

The night was bitterly cold, the outside air seeping in from the walls and up from the floor, causing you to shiver and wrap your jacket closer around your body. The house had no heating; your family relied on warm clothes and fluffy blankets to keep comfortable during the winter, and fans and cold showers to stay cool during the summer. Sometimes, you did wish that you lived with your mom, although you always felt guilty for thinking that. To leave your brother, your father… all for what? Central air and heat? A full fridge? You knew the price you’d have to pay, along with the weight of your betrayal, would be more unbearable mental abuse.

You shook off the idea, throwing your scraps away and entering your bedroom. It was smaller than your brother’s room, and way less decorated, however it was yours. You slipped under the covers and curled up, pulling your knees to your chest and shivering for a while before your body heat became equally distributed and warmed you, lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

You hadn’t realized you were awake, but you suddenly were. Your eyes were well adjusted to the darkness of your room by now, so you could make out the dark shapes of the furniture and walls surrounding you. Outside your window, you could see the deep blue sky, a star or two bright enough to outshine the streetlights planted on the side of the road. You rolled over, stretching, and got comfortable once more before you slowly fell asleep again, only this time, your sleep wasn’t as dreamless.

You woke once more, the same dark sky you saw from your window now consuming everything around you. There was a myriad of stars above your head, brighter than you’ve ever seen them before. A canopy of leaves swayed back and forth in an invisible breeze, seeming to beckon you further, deeper, into this unknown forest. The ground beneath you lurched forward, your legs moving as if they had a mind of their own. You felt evanescent; every atom within you buzzed with energy but at the same time, you were almost completely numb to the world around you.

Further down the path swirled shiny, white flakes, the delicate crystalline designs somehow able to be seen by your human eye. They called to you, whipping your strands wildly about as the chill got worse, the hair standing on end across your arms and neck.

A voice… a small yip- or yowl- penetrated the sound of the air flying across your ears. A dog? Or maybe something more dangerous… a wolf maybe? No, you reasoned, it would have to be a coyote. You walked farther into the storm, squinting and shielding your eyes against the cold when all at once the sky lit up as if the sun had risen: An almost unbearable baby blue tainted everything in shadow, and then-

You opened your eyes, your vision slowly unclouding to reveal the plain walls of your room, your hands gripping the blankets you'd covered yourself with as you felt your body jerk upon impulse. Your heart beat fast and loud in your ears, sensing danger, yet, as always, there was none.

* * *

School was a drag. The hours kept getting longer and longer, the gloomy overcast sky not exactly helping with the problem. You kept zoning out while teachers were talking, your lids bobbing up and down until something startled you or a classmate noticed and shook you awake again. You hadn’t been getting the best night’s sleep, though you tried not to stay up late and follow the advice almost everyone’s parents gave to them:

Stay off your phone. Avoid bright lights. Go to bed early. Do something tiring before bed. 

Hell, you’d even tried drinking warm milk! Nothing seemed to be keeping those odd dreams at bay, and every night you’d wake up with your heart hammering in your chest as if you’d just ran a marathon.

Your friends didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong, and if they did, they didn’t say anything, so you didn’t bother to mention your trouble sleeping. They talked to you and carried on as normal, commenting on the upcoming tests and unfairly long homework sheets given to everyone.

“C’mon, it’s our senior year, AND fall break is almost here! It’s ridiculous that teachers are just loading us up with homework”.

“Well,” chimed in your other friend, walking beside you as Rebecca led the both of you, “senior year is supposed to be difficult. We’re going to college next year, did you forget?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and continued walking while Hailey laughed, shaking her head at the group’s antics. You smiled, but kept quiet, following the other two outside through the heavy metal doors into the school’s student-filled campus.

All around you people swarmed into untidy lines. They rushed to busses, ran to the parking lot, or sat idly by at the front of the school. You waved farewell before you parted from the now-duo and climbed aboard your bus, barely registering the ride home. From there you shivered in the mild breeze, waiting for your little brother to step off of a similar-yet-different yellow transport.

When he saw you, he grinned widely, trotting toward you as his bag swang side-to-side.

“(Y/n)!”

He barreled into you, wrapping his small arms around your waist before you pried him off and let him run up into your apartment.

“What was that all about? Did something happen today?”

Thomas shook his head, throwing his backpack down in your living room with the rest of the mess that lay there. “I just felt like hugging you.”

You mouthed an, ‘oh, okay’ before beginning to head down the hall to your room, but, not to your surprise, you found Thomas bouncing up and down behind you with each step as he repeatedly said your name.

“What?” you replied, used to his antics by now.

“Can we puh-leaasee play outside? Please please please!” He begged, throwing his body around the hallway in a dramatic, childlike fashion. You humoured him and sighed, the edges of your mouth threatening to turn upward into the hints of a smile.

“Fine. We can’t be outside for too long though, I have stuff to do.”

“Why not-?”

“Because I said so. We play a little bit now, or not at all.”

He huffed and mumbled an ‘okay’ before practically flying down the stairs and out the door, leaving you in the dust as you halfheartedly ran after him. Once you reached the edge of your building’s property, you glanced around, waiting for Thomas to suggest a game for you both to play for a while.

He asked if you would play hide-and-seek with him, but before you could agree, he asked something somewhat… dangerous… for an elementary school student.

“-but let’s play in the woods! C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!”

You mulled the idea over before complying to him- not because you were a good older sister, oh no, it was because he was incessantly tugging on the hem of your shirt and hanging off of your sleeves until your top threatened to come off.

“Okay, okay! But we can’t go far into the woods, it’s not safe.” You pointed to a mangled trunk in the distance. “You can’t go past that tree back there, alright? And no cheating.”

He nodded furiously and let go of you. You could tell he was just excited to be outside with someone other than the neighbouring kids. You couldn’t really blame him- the neighbours raised their children to be socially awkward and unable to chime in or have an imagination. In Thomas’ words, they were ‘boring’.

You turned around, facing away from the tree-line and started counting down from ten. You gave your brother some extra time to hide- after all, he was up against you, his eight-teen-year-old sister. You finished counting and yelled the famous “ready or not, here I come!” line before you began to search for his bright orange parka and shaggy (hair colour) hair.

You trekked into the forest, the leaves and twigs crunching underneath your feet as you looked back and forth for Thomas. Minutes passed, and you started to get concerned about the lack of his presence in the designated play area. He couldn’t have gone very far, being nine and of small physical stature. Still, you called out his name, warning him that he would be breaking the rules if he passed the barrier you’d set before the game started. There was no response, and you sighed, pressing on.

“Thomas! This isn’t funny, you cheater!”

You checked your phone- twenty minutes since the game had started and there was no sign of him. He couldn’t have gone far, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. You called out for him again, louder and more frantic this time.

“Seriously, we need to go back!” You paused for a moment before bribing him; “I’ll make you some cookies! Just come here!”

Thirty-five minutes. You had circled around, thinking maybe he didn’t go that deep into the woods, but he was definitely nowhere in the shallows of the tree-line. Your pulse sped up and you thought of your dad coming home to only you and the police- a search party crossed your mind, as well as the guilt you’d feel if you didn’t find him. Your mind ran a thousand miles an hour, trying to focus on the orange parka. Orange parka, orange parka, orange parka, orange… Orange!

There, in the distance, just past the twisted trunk of the tree you’d set as the barrier was a flash of orange and the tell-tale snap of twigs under someone’s quick, evading footfalls.

“Thomas, stop running! Get back here, now!”

You broke out into a sprint, dodging thick trunks and gnarled vines, following the orange parka that somehow kept getting farther away from you. You breathed hard, and despite wanting to stop and catch your breath, you pushed forward. 

“Thomas! Thomas, plea- Ugh!”

Your shoe caught a root hidden underneath the entangled blades of grass and you lurched forward, catching yourself on your hands and your knee. You scrambled back up, limping a few paces before you wiped the damp dirt onto your pants and sighed in frustration. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the distinct giggle of your little brother. You called out again, but to no avail.

You had half a mind to just go home, but when you looked behind you, all you could see was trees. You checked the time. It’s been an hour since the start of the game, which was supposed to be fun, yet the stress of it all coupled with your sleep deprivation exhausted you.

Your pace was slower than it had been before, the overcast sky darkening as time stretched on. You didn’t see Thomas anymore, nor could you find your way back to the apartment’s property. You had been running in a straight line, hadn’t you? You didn’t recognize anything when you turned around, nor did you when you walked back.

You tried different directions, but again, it was useless. You hated to think about it, but you were lost.

You checked the time again, unlocking your cell to send an emergency message to your neighbour detailing your time in the woods looking for your brother and asking if he knew the way back home. Your phone buzzed almost immediately, however not with a message you’d wanted to receive.

Message failed to send. Will try again when service becomes available.

  You cursed under your breath. No service, huh? That was great.

You couldn’t just stay here. If you picked a direction and just walked in it, you’d eventually find a way out, right? The theory was sound enough, and so, without hesitation, you began to walk.

Soon enough, the trees started to thin, exposing a well-traveled path bare of grass and debris. A wave of relief washed over you, and you quickened your step. The brown of the earth beneath you became exposed as you reached a small clearing surrounded by a circle of trees with what looked like doors plastered on the front of each one.

...Doors? You furrowed a brow, confused as all hell. You stood in the center of the clearing, and sure enough, seven trees stretched into the sky with seven differently-decorated doors facing you in the center, gleaming golden knobs and all.

Despite your utter confusion, you drew closer to the tree nearest to you, running your fingertips over the carvings and delicate handiwork of the unmistakable Christmas tree.  You reached for the knob, thinking maybe it would turn and reveal a secret hiding place or- or something, but the knob didn’t budge a single centimeter. You tried again, in a different direction, but the attempt yielded the same result as before.

You walked to the next tree over, and the next from that one, and the next from that one, trying each of the doors only for them to all stay stoic and unmoving. You still admired the craftsmanship and time put into the designs, regardless of whether or not they were completely functional, settling in front of the Halloween-themed tree and idly feeling the divots in the pumpkin’s eyes and mouth. 

The sun started to set, casting a very orange glow on you and the circle of trunks. The rays shone particularly bright on your back, and while the warmth was welcome, you stepped out of the way to gaze upon the carrot-coloured sky. After all, it looked like you were spending the night here.

The beams focused on the knob, the warm light reflecting all around you in an intense glow almost as strong as the sun itself. Golden flecks danced around your vision; there was something so beautiful about the refracted light that drew you closer, distracting you as your digits reached out and played with the shadows they made on the knob. Your fingers barely brushed against the golden sphere, the warmth filtering through your skin and pouring into the rest of your body without any semblance of notice, shocking your system. You pulled your hand away out of impulse, as if you’d been burned.

Your eyes didn’t leave the door, nor the knob, and although you hadn’t turned it- only touched it- it swung open, beckoning you, calling you.

And exactly who were you to refuse such a warm invitation?

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 4

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: snow/icy roads, food/drink, smut/masturbation (after last line break), two (2) swear words

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: I did it! I managed to write while also getting flooded with homework! I’m not completely sure when I’ll be able to get the next chapter out, but I’m super excited for you all to see what happens this chapter. Enjoy!

The lights flickered in the office, making Erin pause her work. Looking out the window, she was met with snow falling from the sky, flakes small enough that even the building next door wasn’t much more than a faint silhouette. It wasn’t anything atypical for that time of year, but she was not looking forward to driving through the snow. There was always someone who started sliding or ended up blocking a road.

She picked up her phone tiredly when it started ringing, not even looking at the contact. “This is Agent He.”

A warm voice came through the speaker. “Hi, honey.”

Hearing Marcus’s voice, even through a phone, was enough to get her to sit a little taller. “Hi, Marcus. What do you need?”

He let out a soft sigh. “Sorry, I know you’re probably busy, but Missy gets out of school soon and I was wondering if you could give her a drive home?” There was the sound of a crash nearby, followed by the scuffing of shoes against pavement. “I’m a bit busy right now and the school just called to say they’re closing early.”

Erin glanced through her schedule for the rest of the day. No meetings, just paperwork and some emails. Closing it with a click, she answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I can go pick her up. I’m just about done for the day and was thinking of heading out anyways.”

Marcus let out a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Erin. I’ll text you the address and let Missy know you’re coming.”

“No problem,” she replied, tucking her phone between her shoulder and ear so she could pack up. “Stay safe out there, Marcus.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course, honeydew. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

The call ended before she could respond. Shrugging to herself, she tucked her phone away and kept packing.

Due to the slower workday, people had time to kill. Erin tried to ignore the stares of her coworkers as she strode out of the office with her bag and a stack of folders. Some stopped her along the way to ask questions, and she sighed as their single question turned into what constituted a half-hour meeting that they could have scheduled. As much as she hated to seem dismissive, she had to cut them off and ask them to send an email with their concerns.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, she answered, “Had something important come up, I’m heading out for the day.”

---

“Are you my dad’s special friend?”

Erin’s eyes widened. Words were lost on her as she tried to formulate an answer. They were certainly friends, and more than friends, but how far beyond that? “W-what do you mean by ‘special’, Missy?”

The young girl shrugged, playing with the zipper of her jacket. “Dad talks about you a lot. Well, he talks to you a lot. He told me that you’re the one he calls at night.”

She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned pale. He talked about her with Missy? “Oh. Yeah, that’s me, then.” Turning on the blinker to make a left, she said, “Your dad told me he’ll finish work as soon as he can, so we’ll head to my place, ok?”

In just a few minutes, she pulled into the garage of her apartment, trailing in slush and clumps of snow. Her tires had left compacted snow on the driveway, which meant the snow was planning to stick around for a while. Hopefully someone would add salt by the morning. Having a four-wheel-drive was great, but she couldn’t alter physics.

“Get warmed up by the fireplace and I’ll text your dad, ok?” She said, unlocking the apartment door and holding it open for Missy to enter. The little girl bounded in, taking off her shoes by the door so she wouldn’t leave tracks on the floor. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Missy asked, setting down her backpack by the dining table. She looked up at Erin curiously, her brown eyes sparkling.

Erin placed her folders on the table and nodded. “Yes I do, sweetie. Do you want to help? I have marshmallows somewhere….”

“Yes!!!” Missy cheered. She followed Erin to the spacious kitchen, her eyes growing wide when she saw the array of pots by the sink. “Are these all real plants?”

The greenery was one of Erin’s favorite parts about the apartment; a higher position at the FBI meant a bigger paycheck, and a bigger paycheck and relocation meant a bigger apartment. It still wasn’t large enough for a party of more than two or three people, but it did have more counter space and windows. Adorned with plants ranging from orchids to airplants to fiddle-leaf fig bushes, her living space was slowly turning into a nursery. Some would’ve said she had too many plants, but she wanted her home to be just a little more than plain walls and pretty lights.

“They are,” she answered, smiling. “I need to water them today, so I left them out on the counter this morning. Do you and your dad have plants at home?” Missy shook her head, marveling at the circular leaves of the pilea plant. Touching a leaf gently, she answered, “Dad always forgets to water them, so we only have fake ones.”

A chuckle left Erin’s lips as she placed the mug of milk into the microwave. “Remind me to never buy him plants as a present, then.”

When the milk was steaming, she took the mug out of the microwave and added a large scoop of powdery mixture. The liquid quickly turned to a silky dark brown, which was quickly topped off with a handful of marshmallows per Missy’s request.

While Missy started on her homework–who gave out homework on a snow day?–Erin took out a few ingredients to make cookies. Thankfully, she still had some flour and dark chocolate in the cabinet. If there was anything that could’ve warmed up the chilly apartment, it was the heat of the oven and the scent of freshly baked cookies.

Surprisingly, Missy was pretty well-behaved. In her experience, children around Missy’s age tended to be riddled with questions, almost overly excited. But Missy, on the other hand, seemed to fare well on her own. Perhaps it was a testament to her upbringing, or maybe she was just independent like her father. Either way, Erin appreciated the politeness and relaxation.

Once the cookies were baked, Erin took a seat across from  Missy and started sorting through the reports. Some had urgent deadlines, but others could wait. And then there was the rat’s nest that was her inbox.

It was at that point when Missy finished her homework and started growing bored. She couldn’t blame her; her apartment could be cozy, but it definitely wasn’t arranged for a child.

“Do you want to do something together?” Erin asked, smiling a little. Setting down the file she was reading she mused, “If you want, we could find a movie. Or not, whatever you want. Just tell me.”

Missy’s request wasn’t surprising–she wanted to watch TV. So that’s what they did. They snuggled up on the sofa with a blanket tossed over their legs. Erin handed her the remote so she could pick a show or movie.

Before long, the warmth of the fireplace along with the soft haze of noise from the TV had lulled Missy to sleep, the head of brown waves resting against her arm. At first, Erin tensed. But once she realized it was just Missy, she forced herself to relax.

Smiling softly, she turned down the volume of the TV and slid her arm out from underneath her, catching Missy when she started falling over. She wondered if that was what parenting was; if it was just a series of questions and answers until the little one fell asleep.

But as she tried to get up, she found Missy’s hands scrunched in her shirt, keeping her in place. Not even a tug on her shirt could detach her.

Sighing, she sat back down and looked down at the little girl. The half-sitting position couldn’t be good for her back, and so far she hadn’t had any success in getting free. So, she did what anyone would do. Well, what she thought Marcus would do.

She leaned over and lifted Missy with ease, holding her close so they could both lie down.

Missy quickly settled herself into a more comfortable position, her cheek resting against Erin’s shoulder. The hands that once clung to her shirt came up to wrap around her neck, keeping her secured to Erin.

The FBI agent tried to ignore the warmth in her chest as Missy’s fingers wrapped around the collar of her shirt. Until then, she hadn’t realized how...small she was. How precious and warm and completely adorable. Sure, there was the cuteness that came with youth, but for a moment she let herself bask in the embrace of Missy Moreno.

As her eyelids grew heavy, Erin pulled the blanket up and let herself drift off.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Marcus knocked on her door. The sharp rapping on wood brought her out of her slumber. When she glanced at her watch, it was late into the evening.

Rather than making him wait an extra minute so she could wake Missy up, Erin stood from the couch and answered the door with the little girl on her hip.

Marcus looked tired, his beard a bit longer than usual and his hair mussed. But nevertheless, those beautiful brown eyes of his lit up at the sight of Erin and his daughter. Speaking softly, he said, “It looks like you two got along, huh?”

“I guess we did,” she replied, smiling. She stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in? Stay for dinner, Marcus.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he said bashfully, laughing softly. Seeing her with his kid all cuddled up sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And it terrified him.

He always wanted kids; it was no secret. And along with kids, he dreamt of getting married, and coming home to a family. The world let him have that for fewer than five years. It had been a long time since he’d come home to see Missy so content and at peace with life.

“You had a long day, sweetie,” she insisted, reaching for his wrist and pulling him in. “Just let me set her down and I can get started.”

Before he could offer to take Missy, she was already laying the girl back onto the couch. As he watched her, he remembered the way his wife used to cradle their baby, tucking her into blankets and placing little kisses on her forehead.

His heartstrings tugged painfully as Erin covered Missy with the blanket and smoothed down the hairs on the crown of her head fondly. Although he didn’t regret a moment of his previous marriage, part of him still wished he’d taken the plunge instead of redirecting his feelings towards Lisbon. Maybe if he did, they’d be in a completely different place in life.

Erin came up to him, tying back her hair. “I can make us some fried rice, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,” he replied, smiling. “Can I help you prep anything, honey?” There it was again. Fighting the rush of heat at the nickname, she walked with him to the kitchen and said, “Yes, I’d love some help.”

She and Marcus fell into a rhythm, music playing softly from the bluetooth speaker on her counter. While the rice cooker was puffing out steam (she didn’t have enough leftover rice), they both worked on preparing the other ingredients: spam, onions, egg, and garlic. Some things never changed.

“You’re very lucky,” she commented, leaning forward on the counter to watch him dice the onion. His movements were smooth and confident, fingers curled just slightly. “Missy’s a great kid.”

“She didn’t give you any trouble?” he asked, brows shooting up. When she shook her head, he chuckled softly. “You must have magic powers, then. She can be a little shit if she wants to be.”

Erin scoffed. “She’s the most well-behaved child I’ve ever met. You did a good job with her, Marcus.”

“I did my best,” he responded, cheeks warm. “I don’t think I could’ve survived without my mom helping out, though.” She smirked. “Well isn’t that what grandparents are for? Babysitting so that the parents can have some fun?”

The corner of his lip curved up. He finished cutting the onions and washed his hands. Stepping closer, he asked lowly, “What kind of fun do you think they have?”

Chills ran down her spine as he touched her arm, his hands large and warm. Her eyes flickered down to his lips. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

“Do you want me to show you, honey?”

Mere centimeters separated them when a high pitched voice exclaimed from the sofa, “Daddy!”

Erin pulled away quickly, her cheeks turning pink as Missy ran over to give Marcus a hug. They were almost caught. She was almost caught kissing Missy’s dad. That would’ve been an interesting situation to explain.

But if the nerves were real, why was her heart beating with excitement? Not to mention, why did she feel so warm when he touched her? They weren’t together. No, they were friends. More than friends, but friends.

Dinner was cooked and demolished in no time, the Morenos praising her for something as simple as rice with canned meat.

“This is really good, honey,” he moaned, spooning more into his bowl. Licking his lips, he asked, “Could you teach me how to make this sometime?”

She tried not to focus on the way his lips shined from the oil and his tongue. “I could, but why do that when you and Missy could come visit more often?”

“I can’t ask that of you, honey-” “You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Erin interrupted, smiling triumphantly at Missy’s agreement. “Besides, Missy likes the plants. She says they’re nice.” “Like abuelita’s house!” Marcus chuckled. “Like abuelita’s house.” Meeting Erin’s eyes, he said, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

---

“Dad, Erin’s really cool.”

He smiled fondly, pulling out of the visitor’s parking spot. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

A pause. Then, “Are you going to ask her out?”

Normally, he would be more caught off guard. But after a long day of work and an amazing dinner with his girls, he couldn’t have been happier. “I already did, kiddo.”

Another pause. He knew Missy was going to grow up to be a smart girl; he just knew it. And with Erin in the picture, he had even less reason to doubt it. “Do you like-like her? My friends say that their parents go on dates sometimes.”

Marcus smiled to himself. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Being in the kitchen with her again felt like coming home. To her, it might’ve felt like a stranger seeing her for the first time, but everything fell together perfectly.

“Well, I think she like-likes you, too.”

---

Erin sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a fluffy towel after her shower. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Marcus’s voice had dropped when he asked her that question, and the way his touch felt electric against her even through the clothes.

The heat in her belly grew more unbearable the more she thought of him. Seeing him in the kitchen, waltzing around her as if it was second nature, only made her want him more. His fingers were beautiful and thick, gentle yet confident. His smile was sweet yet knowing. He was everything she ever wanted, but different from what she used to dream about.

She lifted her gaze to the full mirror leaning against the wall.

The towel dropped to the carpet once she stood in front of it, leaving her bare to the warm air of her apartment. She bit her lip as her fingers rubbed along the silver shaft of the toy in her hand. It was a new one that came in the mail just a couple weeks ago.

Clicking the button at the base of the vibrator made it come to life, buzzing in her hand.

The first touch against her swollen clit made her gasp and retract her hand. It was stronger than the others she used, more pulsing than constant.

Her fingertips slid between her legs easily as she prepared herself for the toy, her arousal shining on her skin. She closed her eyes and imagined they were Marcus’s fingers, but let out a frustrated sigh. Her fingers were too small, to fill her in the way that she knew Marcus could.

Sitting down on the floor, she rubbed the toy along her folds, whimpering as she clenched around nothing.

A moan escaped her lips as she pushed the vibrator into herself, letting it fill her as much as possible. She immediately clamped down on it, sucking it deeper in until it sat snugly against her walls.

Leaning back on an arm, she used her free hand to tug at a hardened nipple, sending electricity down to her glistening pearl. When she let go, the soft flesh bounced, skin still glowing from her shower. If only it were Marcus’s hands touching her, caressing her skin.

Her orgasm struck her faster than expected, making her arch her back and let out a faint cry. As ecstasy coursed through her veins, her legs started shaking and her cunt began dripping around the toy, as if it were folding back a flood.

Each clench of her walls only brought her more pleasure, the vibrations becoming too much for her to take.

She reached down and pulled out the toy, gasping as a stream of liquid squirted onto the mirror. Her chest heaved as she watched her pussy gape and clench through droplets of her release.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, lying back on the floor. The taste of her cum coated her tongue as she licked the toy clean. “Fuck.”

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[pricetagofficial]

The Archer -Part 7

Warnings: Language, prank war (I’m sorry, 2 am me had a moment), again give it another chapter or so until the cringe slows down.

Part Eight

Word Count: 5167.... (Holy shit I’m sorry)

Tag list: @kishony-the-geek​ @idkmanicantenglish @catxsnow @unknowntoanyone @starxfires

A/N: This goes to my girl Amanda, hope you feel better! Also, again i am sorry for the blegh you are about to read.

As Rory healed, she was forced to stay out of the action. Every night she would attempt to put on her suit and every night she would be derailed. It had been a week and Alfred finally gave in on letting her out of bed rest, not that she minded it all that much with Tim joining her every day.

He would lead her out on short walks, make sure her wound was dressed properly, and let her fall asleep in his arms. Tim couldn't ignore the feeling in his stomach he had every time he was around her, and it got worse every time she smiled at him, laughed, or even looked at him.

There was no way he had that kind of feelings for Rory, she was his best friend and didn't want to ruin their friendship. But he never felt as happy as he was whenever he was around her, sure she was a little cynical and hard to understand sometimes but it's what made Rory, Rory, and Tim wouldn't want to change her for the world.

Of course, all of their time spent together did not go unnoticed. Unknown to them, Dick Stephanie and now Roy and Jason were all conspiring against the two of them. Dick, Jason, and Stephanie knowing Tim as well as they did could tell that Tim was falling hard for Rory and according to Roy, this was as close as she got to someone. She never let anyone get close to her these days and it amazed Roy just how close they were getting.

So naturally, they organized a secret meeting with just the four of them. They met down in the Bat cave because Rory was officially banished from it because she wouldn't listen to Bruce when he said no patrol. His last resort was calling Oliver and that was when she quit trying.

"So obviously, our little Timmy has a thing for Rory. What do you guys think we should do about this situation?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall.

"Well, I say we should convince him to take her out on a date," Stephanie suggested. "I can try and give him suggestions without being suspicious."

"No offense Steph, but you are one of the most suspicious people we know. Maybe that's not the greatest idea." Jason interjected. "Besides, Rory is still on house arrest and she can't go anywhere. We need to get them to admit they have feelings, maybe not to each other but to one of us." Roy finished.

"They have a point, so maybe just ease them into the idea of possibly liking the other," Dick said and pushed himself off the wall. "Now, I need to ready for patrol. It's Jason's night off so he's going to be keeping an eye on Rory and maybe do some digging. Of course, you and Jess are welcome to join us like usual."

Roy grinned, "Count us in Grayson."

Hours later, everyone was out on patrol with Barbara and Alfred down in the Bat cave while Rory was with Jason sat in the home theater. They were watching one of the many versions of Romeo and Juliet, Rory had no idea that Jason was a major literature buff and loved to read.

"Why are we watching this sappy romantic tragedy again?" she asked, leaning back in her seat as she ate low sodium popcorn. Alfred being Alfred, made sure that Rory got the food and nutrients she needs and also that she didn't eat anything too hard on her stomach because she was still on the mend.

"Because I wanted to. After watching My Fair Lady three times with you, I had 'I Could Have Danced All Night' stuck in my head." he explained, eating some of his popcorn. Rory gave him a look, "That's not terrible. It's a great song, one of my favorites."

"I was humming it in public, you're lucky Dick or the gremlin didn't catch me. Also, of course, Replacement would watch whatever you asked him too so he has watched more than I have. It seems he would do anything for you." Jason said, popping another piece in. "Besides, what is your obsession with this movie?" he asked, looking over at her ignoring Romeo confessing his love to a balcony in the middle of the night.

"My mother watched it with me for the first time when I was about four, and it stuck with me. I remember wanting to be Eliza Doolittle and tried to dress in my mother's fancy clothes and attempt to try a British accent." Rory said with a forlorn look on her face. "I've been watching it every night because it's something I can fall asleep too."

"Have the nightmares gotten bad again?" he asked, sitting up more to look at her better. Rory gave him a slow nod and he swore under his breath. "I told you, you can come and find me any time if they get too bad," he said and pulled her into a hug.

"I know, it's just that Tim is so adamant that I sleep. He wants me to heal quickly because he is so worried. I can tell that he still blames himself, I see it in his eyes every time it's mentioned or he gets a glance at the bandages. I just hope he isn't going to do anything reckless without me around." she sighed and leaned into Jason's hold relaxing slowly.

"Well, know that Dick, Bruce, Damian, Steph, and I will take care of him. Have been for a few years now, princess," he said with a chuckle. "There is no trouble he can get himself into that we can't get him out of."

Rory let a smile spread on her face. "Thanks, Jason, and speaking of Tim I need a way to get him back for picking me up over his shoulder. I said that I would attack the thing he loves most, but what is that?" she asked.

Jason was half tempted to say her but decided against it. Instead, he went with a better option. "Timbo loves coffee and computers. Maybe you could do something with those," he suggested. "But if this gets turned into a prank war, you are on your own princess. I will not save your ass if he has better pranks than you."

"Gee, such a great friend you are." she laughed, wincing from the sudden movement. Jason gave her a look and she saw it from the corner of her eye. "Stop looking at me like that, getting it from Tim is bad enough."

Jason put his hands up and sat back in his chair again. "Alright, sorry. Do you have any ideas on what to do with his coffee or computer?" he asked.

Rory grinned and turned her head to look at him, "I might have a few up my sleeve."

That night before she went to bed, she and Jason enacted their plan to sabotage Tim's coffee. The two of them made sure that they were up before everyone and went down to the kitchen and saw Alfred cooking, with a fresh pot of coffee brewing. The house rule was that no one was allowed to touch the pot until Tim had his first cup.

The two of them talked with Alfred as everyone began to file in. First was Dick, then it was Damian, Roy, Stephanie, Jesse, and Bruce. Bruce made his way over to Rory and looked at her, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm feeling good." she smiled. "I'm excited for the day."

Bruce gave her and Jason odd looks when Tim finally entered the kitchen. As they predicted, Tim went straight for the coffee pot and poured his coffee and grabbed the milk and sugar. He poured a bit of each in before stirring it and taking a sip.

No sooner did the coffee touch his lips, that he spat it out all over the floor. "What the fuck!?"

Rory and Jason tried to hide their smiles, as everyone else laughed at Tim's disturbed face but Tim saw them and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell did you two do to my coffee?" he glared.

"I may or may not have switch the sugar out for kosher salt," Rory said with a laugh, covering her mouth. "This is payback for picking me up over your shoulder, I did say that I would attack what you loved most, and here we are."

"Then why is he laughing too?" Tim looked at Jason who was trying to keep his mouth shut.

"Why, Timothy dear. It was his idea."

Jason looked at Rory with a bewildered expression, "It was not my idea! It was hers." but Tim didn't seem to believe him.

"I'm gonna kill you, Todd." Tim frowned and charged at Jason, who got up quickly and took off down the hall wanting to avoid coffee deprived Tim, for coffee deprived Tim was scarier than Damian on a bad day.

"Miss Aurora, would you please tell me where you and Master Jason put the sugar? I would like to have sweet tea, not salty this afternoon." The tone of Alfred's voice was disapproving, but his eyes betrayed him. It seemed that he had thought Rory and Jason's prank was funny.

"Sure thing Alfred." Carefully she got up and walked over to a cabinet where she had stashed the real container of sugar and gave it to the butler. "I can help clean up the mess?" she asked with a small smile.

As the week progressed, Rory grew more and more anxious about whether Tim would try and get her back or not. According to the others, especially Damian, it would be more likely than not that he would try and get her back so she chose to watch her back just in case.

Alfred had declared her wound healed for the most part, and Rory was once again allowed in the Bat cave but still not on patrol. She just had to work with Barbara and keep an eye on them and provide help if they needed it. It wasn't a bad job, Rory was a genius when it came to computers and enjoyed working with Babs who in turn taught her things while Roy and Jesse left for Star City to check on Oliver and let them know she was okay.

It was after one of those rough nights of patrol that Tim finally attacked.

Rory drug herself into the kitchen late one morning after Damian left for school and Dick went to work. Tim was in the cave, working on a case while Jason took some time to himself. Stephanie was down in the kitchen as well, munching on a bowl of dry cereal when Rory opened the fridge and pulled out the jug of orange juice.

Orange juice was one of Rory's favorite things, and Alfred had been wanting her to drink more of it because it gave her the vitamin c she was missing. Stephanie watched as Rory grabbed a glass and poured it mostly full. Placing the jug on the counter, Rory took a big gulp of the juice. What she got instead was not what she expected.

Almost immediately, she ran to the sink and spat it out gagging in the process. The taste was so horrible, Rory wanted to vomit. Quickly getting a new cup, she filled and drank water out of it multiple times to try and get the wretched taste out.

Only then did she realize that Stephanie had her phone out and was trying to hide her giggle. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the blonde sitting on the counter. "Steph, what the hell was that."

"That, dear Aurora was cheesy orange juice. I opened a few packs on mac and cheese powder and poured it into the orange juice." Tim's voice sounded from the phone. Stephanie turned it around and saw Tim was video chatting her to see the reaction of the juice prank.

"You know what, dragon boy? This means war. I went easy on you with the salty coffee, so you better surrender now." she threatened, holding a wooden spoon in her hand. "Because this is going to get so much worse for you before it gets better."

And that's how the 6th Wayne Manor Prank War began.

The orange juice event had spread around the manor quickly. Stephanie not only video called Tim, but she managed to get a video of it and sent it to the entire Wayne Manor residence. Damian never let her forget her moment of shame mumbling something along the lines of "I always check my drinks for I ingest it, any civilized person would do the same." which earned him a whack on the back of the head from Dick, telling him to be nice.

Ever since she declared war, it was almost as if Bruce and Alfred were hiding, not wanting to get caught up in Rory and Tim's war. No one knew when Rory would strike next, and they didn't want to be caught in the middle of it or worse be the one to accidentally set of whatever she planned. Lucky for them, Rory wasn't pulling out the big stops yet, she went for another small prank.

It was simple, everyone knew that Tim had a specific cup he carried around. It was a basic white mug with the saying "World's best detective." Bruce's said "World's second best detective." Tim made the mistake of leaving it out on the counter one evening and Rory decided to leave a little message.

When the next morning came around, everyone was getting breakfast except Bruce and Barbara who were still in the cave working from the previous night. Tim was working still too, but he had come up for some coffee with the pot downstairs empty and no supplies to brew another pot.

When he entered the kitchen, only Dick, Jason, Damian, and Stephanie were in sight and were quietly eating their food. This set off red flags in Tim's mind, there was some reason all four of them were so quiet and he had a bad feeling about it. Grabbing the pot, he poured coffee into it and checked the sugar once more to make sure that it was not salt again even though it would be idiotic to repeat a prank.

Tim leaned against the counter and watched his siblings eat quietly as he sipped his coffee, but the second he took a sip the four of them started giggling. Quickly he removed his mug from his lips and inspected his coffee. "What's so funny?" he asked.

The four of them shrugged and went back to eating, something was not right. He knew there was nothing wrong with the drink itself, he had already tasted some and it was normal; so what made them laugh? He took another sip and they laughed some more. Again, Tim lowered his mug and this time felt his lip expecting something to be there. But nothing was.

Adjusting his grip, he felt something on the bottom of his cup and quickly he peeled it off to see that it was a stick note. He flipped it over to see the words "Aurora Queen is a mother fucking beast and will win this prank war."

Tim crumbled the note and saw that Jason was holding up his phone with Rory on a video call much similar to what he and Stephanie did. "See you got my note dragon boy, sticky notes don't lie. That was my last nice prank, Timothy, give up and I'll let you grovel for an hour instead of prolonging it." she grinned.

"Just you wait, songbird. I have a few tricks up my sleeves, you won't see them coming." Tim hit the red button and hung up the call. "Hey Damian, I'll drive you to school today yeah?" Damian gave Tim a skeptical look, he never wanted to drive him anywhere let alone drive period. What was he up to?

Rory sat in the kitchen later that day, reading a book when Stephanie walked in holding a bag from Burger King. "Hey Rory, I was out and got you something," she said and pulled out a box of ten-piece chicken nuggets, placing them in front of Rory. Everyone knew that these were her favorite and quickly grabbed the box.

"Thanks, Steph," and with her mouth salivating for the taste of Burger King nuggies she opened the box. What she was in the box was not chicken nuggets. Instead, they were replaced with the worst thing on the planet, roasted brussels sprouts. Immediately Rory knew what this was. This was Tim's prank at getting back at her for the note, well it was time to stop playing nice.

With this newfound revenge, she quickly enlisted the help of Damian promising to do his homework for two weeks if he just 'accidentally' destroyed the coffee pot in the kitchen, which he did. Alfred replaced it and before anyone could notice, Rory printed out a sticker that said "Voice-activated" on it and had a list of commands underneath it.

Knowing how tired Tim has been, it was perfectly timed. This time she was in the kitchen with everyone to see the chaos that was tired Tim ensue. He trudged into the kitchen and saw the new pot with the label saying it was voice-activated.

He shrugged it off assuming it was some fancy high tech pot that just came out. Looking through the list of commands he said "Brew black coffee." Nothing happened. He said it twice more and still, nothing happened.

Rory and Jason, who had seen her labeling the pot bit back a grin watching a now tired, and irritated Tim yell at a coffee pot to make him coffee only for it to not be voice-activated at all. Alfred walked in and saw Tim still yelling and now insulting the pot. "Master Tim, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get some coffee." he grumped. "But this stupid ass pot won't work!"

"That's because it's not voice activated sir."

Tim's jaw dropped and he turned on his heel to see both Rory and Jason gone. Of course, he just fell for another prank. He was determined to win this war so he looked at Alfred, "Could you help me with something?"

"Of course, sir."

A couple of hours later, Jason and Rory were sat in the bat cave getting her wound checked once more. After a little poking a prodding, Jason deemed it healed. Her skin had healed together nicely and she didn't feel much pain moving anymore but she still had to take it easy and no patrol for at least another week.

Alfred had come down and told them that he had made his famous brownies if they would like any. Of course, if anyone knew anything it was that Alfred made amazing brownies and they were so good you would kill for them. Quickly, the two of them bolted up the stairs and into the kitchen where they saw Tim, Stephanie, Dick, and Damian all eating some of Alfred's famous brownies.

When they got to the pan and pulled back the foil, they frowned. There were no brownies in the pan, instead, there were several brown e's in the pan with the word 'gotcha' written on the underside of the foil. The two of them turned to look at Tim who was smugly enjoying his brownies.

"That's cold replacement, getting Alfred to help you and with the brownies no less," Jason said, sending his younger brother a glare. Rory was just as pissed if not more so, she had never tasted Alfred's brownies she has only heard of their greatness.

"This is for that voice-activated coffee bullshit," he said with a grin. Rory walked over, grabbed his plate, and shoved it into his face.

"And that's for involving poor Alfred." and she walked off.

Days had gone by and there was no retaliation prank by Rory and Jason, which worried everyone. Or so it seemed. This prank was very low key and it would take a very sharp eye, or nose more likely to notice it. Eight days had passed before Dick finally spoke up, he wasn't sure but to him, Tim had been smelling like dinner for the last few days and he was confused.

"Hey, Timmy, did you change your body wash or something? You smell like dinner." Everyone in the cave nodded in agreement, the only ones silent were Jason and Rory.

"Yeah Timbo, you smell like chicken soup." Stephanie laughed, "We all just assumed that you had changed something when you showered but with the look on your face and the sudden silence of the dynamic duo tells us otherwise."

Now that they had mentioned it, Tim's showers had been smelling like chicken soup. He just brushed it off as Alfred cooking, but he hadn't made anything chicken-related in two weeks. Rory sat in her seat with a wide smirk on her face, with Jason keeping a straight face but smiling with his eyes.

"What did you two do to my soaps?!" he cried, walking over to them.

"We didn't do anything to your soaps replacement, relax," Jason said, turning in his chair to polish his helmet once more. Rory however, kept looking at him.

"He's right, we did nothing to your soaps. The showerhead however is a different story dragon boy, or should I say chicken boy now?" she grinned. Tim's eyes widened and he ran upstairs to his shower and pulled off the showerhead. Once he pulled it off, three chicken bouillon cubes fell out and into the tub.

No wonder he had been smelling chicken soup, he had been showering in it for over a week!

Once everyone learned of the prank, they began to call him chicken boy which only fueled Tim's determination to get his final prank done. It was three days before Rory was allowed to join patrol again so the two of them decided to have a sit-down and talk about their prank war.

Rory had brought Jason and Tim surprisingly brought Damian with him. "What do you want to discuss chicken boy?" she asked with a grin.

"You are going back on patrol in a few days, right? Bruce wants this war of ours to end before then so I have a proposition. We get to play one final prank on the other, and we get help from one other person. Everyone else will decide who had the better prank at the end. I assume you are picking the walking dead over there and I picked Damian." Tim replied, Jason, making a rude hand gesture at the name.

"How did you get Damian to agree to help you? I bargained two weeks of his homework." Rory said crossing her arms.

"He promised not to say or do anything stupid for two weeks," Damian said, adjusting his stance behind Tim. Rory nodded, mentally applauding Tim for his choice of bribery and assistant.

"Alright Drake, I'm assuming we get tomorrow and the next day to enact our prank and the team with the best prank wins?" she asked, raising a brow. "And what does the winner get?"

"The winners get bragging right and an entire batch fo both Alfred's cookies and brownies," Tim said, leaning back into his chair. "Deal?" he stuck out his hand and Rory gave it a shake.

"Deal."

The next two days were total chaos, everyone in the manor knew of their final prank and they were scared just how far they were going to go with this. No one was more than Bruce and Alfred.

The first day and come and gone and nothing had happened, so if they were going to pull a prank it was going to be on day two, and Tim, Rory, Jason, and Damian were ready. The night before while Tim and Damian were out on patrol, Jason and Rory snuck into Tim's room and reorganized everything.

His dresser drawers were switched around, the files in his filing cabinet were rearranged, his containers were switched and so were the flies on his computer. Rory managed to hack into it and renamed every file and reorganize them so it looked like nothing had happened, making sure to leave no pattern for him to follow to put everything back the way it was. Then they crept into Damian's room and did the same, even though there was not much to reorganize.

Tim and Damian had gotten back from patrol later that night once Rory and Jason were asleep and put their plan to action. Under everyone's door, they left a note warning them to be careful opening the doors in the manor and to not sit on any of the chairs either.

Behind every door, they had duct-taped an air horn so once they opened it the horn would go off and under every chair, they could so when they sat, the horns would go off too. Once everything was done they retired for the night.

The four of them woke up at around the same time and the first casualty of the final prank was Tim. When he went to get dressed, he opened his drawer to find that his pants were where his underwear and socks should be. Taking this as a hint, Tim looked around to see that everything was different. How the hell did he not notice that, to begin with? Tim was always very particular about his stuff and those two knew and yet they messed with his stuff.

The next casualty was Damian who suffered from the same fate only it didn't bother him as much as it did Tim. It was easier to fix it and put it all back where it belonged, what irritated him was that he was roped into something that Drake had started. Being part of the prank was not what he agreed to. Damian shrugged and began to reorganize his room.

Jason and Rory were next. When they went down to breakfast, the door to the kitchen was left open slightly. Being as tired as they were after reorganizing Tim and Damian's rooms, they swung the door open only to be greeted with a very loud horn. Rory let out a scream and fell to the floor as Jason jumped three feet in the air.

Tim stood behind them with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "What happened Rory? You alright?"

Still, on the floor, Rory flipped him off. "Fuck you, dragon boy. You still seem to be in a good mood, so you haven't even seen the worst of what we did." Jason bent down to help her up, the two of them careful of the kitchen door this time. Rory moved it away from the wall and saw the air horn taped to the wall.

"Well played, I'm guessing you gave everyone else a heads up?" she asked, looking around everyone didn't seem as disturbed as she and Jason were but they were definitely laughing.

"I don't think I have ever seen Jason jump that high, or even move that fast." Dick laughed, eating a spoon of cereal. It was Jason's turn to flip him off and the two of them got breakfast, checking behind the fridge and cabinet doors. It was safe to say that they were slightly scared now.

What they weren't expecting was when they sat down on the only two open stools, more horns went off scaring the both of them again, this time flinging their food into the air. At this point Rory was pissed, that was twice he got her in five minutes. Was nowhere safe in the manor? Pulling the horn of her seat, she threw it at Tim's head who only caught it.

"Scared of a little horn songbird? I thought you were tougher than that." he grinned.

"Watch your back dragon boy, I might just try to throw you off a building." she threatened and got herself a new bagel because hers landed in one of the potted plants. Jason had gotten himself a breakfast sandwich and all the pieces were across the room.

With breakfast done and over an hour later, every room Rory and Jason walked into they opened the doors carefully and checked before the sat down on any suspicious chair. "I think we're safe on the couch, at least until he finds what we did to his-"

Jason was cut off by loud yelling, followed by what sounded like someone running downstairs. "You wanna try that again princess?" Rory asked and got up, ready to run if Tim was feeling a little murderous.

Tim slammed the door open, making a horn go open and scaring himself with Rory laughing at him. "What happened Timothy? Something wrong?" she asked with a grin. Tim stomped over and held out his laptop.

"What did you do to all of my cases!?" he yelled.

After a lengthy explanation, Rory fixed everything on his laptop to the way it was before. "Now, to decide the winner," she said and went down to the Bat cave, as the passage opened Rory, Jason and Tim made their way down. What Rory didn't know was that there were more horns hidden for them.

Not thinking that Tim would rig the chairs in the cave, both Jason and Rory plopped their butts down onto a chair only for them to jump off and onto the floor when the horn went off.

"Well, now that everyone is down here there is a matter for us to discuss," Dick said. "Who had the better prank?"

Almost everyone said Tim and Damian, apparently watching the two of them scream and jump every time there was a horn was funnier than watching Tim try and refigure out his room. Rory slumped in her spot and pouted. She was never going to hear the end of it from Tim nor Damian.

What made it worse was that they both get a batch of Alfred's cookies and brownies all to themselves. Twice now that Jason and Rory were denied that chocolatey goodness, but Tim and Damian did win fair and square even though Rory's earlier pranks were better. It seemed that Tim saved the best one for last and it's what got him the victory.

"Now that this prank war of your is settled, you two are going to be partnered on patrol again. Rory, you will be helping Tim with his case on Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Cobblepott. You two will leave continue tomorrow as Alfred has requested she rest for at least another day to make sure she is healed enough to get back out." Bruce said.

"Also, please try not to start another prank war or anything for at least 6 months."

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Burned Chapter 16

Roy sat at the small desk with his ballot and pen, looking at the choices carefully.

"You said Susans wants to increase school funding and make the train schedule rigid. Trevors wants to restructure taxes and better waste disposal. And Xavier...?"

"Wants to slash the police budget to 'keep the cost of living down'." Ed frowned, looking unhappy at the notion. "I was actually headed towards the theater yesterday to see if I could catch the end of the debates when I found the newest victim."

"Right." Roy paused for a moment, thinking, before marking the box for Susans and standing, casting his ballot in the box and leaving, Ed quick behind him.

"So- how long until the election results come out?"

"Tomorrow morning. The voting closes at nine, and they'll be up until the wee hours of the morning counting votes. The morning papers will definitely be running the results."

"Huh. Neat." Ed stuffed both hands in his coat pockets as they kept walking along.

"Why the sudden interest in politics, anyways? You never really cared about rank." Roy admitted.

Ed shrugged. "I don't care for politics. But you do. You want to be Furher someday. And it's not a bad idea- having a basic understanding of the politics surrounding you can help you make a good decision and avoid getting stabbed in the back."

"So you've actually been paying attention to some of this stuff then?"

"That and any report I can get my hands on about this serial killer. People say things to me- people nobody listen to. The frustrated farmers, the miners in the dead end towns in the middle of nowhere- a lot of powerful people don't pay attention. But I do. I try to catalog it all away so I know the best decision to make. And who I can count on to back my interests in a crisis. Even the politicians let things slip to me, because they think I'm just a kid."

"Really, like what?"

"I... that promotion that was happening? Where Colonel Lincoln was made Brigadier General in west city?"

Roy stopped walking and his eyes hardened. He'd been more qualified for that position, but he hadn't even been considered.

"I knew you weren't going to get it." Ed said lamely.

Roy caught the boy by the shoulder to stop him walking and spun him around. "How?"

"I was at a bar in west city, chasing a lead on the stone. I ran into some drunk local- was trying to find the mineral broker's shop. But all the guy kept bragging about was how his brother was going to be brigadier general in 3 weeks. Cheated his way to the top."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Roy's features were stern, and he was pissed.

"Because... it was just going to frustrate you. There was nothing you could've done-"

"You don't know that! If you'd have told me, maybe I could've done something to out-compete him. You're my subordinate, you're supposed to report those things to me!"

"There's no way you could've beaten him-"

"And how do you know that, Ed?" Roy seethed.

Edward stepped closer to Roy, his eyes steely and voice sharp and barely above a whisper. "Because you wouldn't have let Lieutenant General Atkins fuck you. Lincoln did. I know you want to make it to the top. But I've been under your command long enough to know you wouldn't sacrifice your principles for it."

Roy's fists unclenched, and he found himself dumbfounded. "You're sure it's not a rumor? Just some drunk guy rambling?"

"No. It's not. I checked the current assignments when I got back- Lincoln and Atkins had been sent to a remote post near Drachma for reconnaissance together. Apparently they'd made an... arrangement... while they were there. Sex for rank. I wasn't sure if it was true, but when news of the promotion came about I knew it was..."

Roy sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "And why didn't you tell me this?"

"Because... you'd have gotten mad at me. Like you just did." Ed looked defensive and slightly angry as he glared at Roy, before his eyes found the ground. "Besides, it happens all the time. People try and trade... favors... for rank."

"No, Ed, they don't. Not in my office."

"I know you don't..." Ed bit his lip, kicking a stone with his boot.

Why wouldn't Ed meet his eyes? Realization hit Roy like a spark exploding into flame, and his eyes widened.

"Who? Who propositioned you, Ed?"

"You're gonna get mad again. It's nothing, can we just drop it?" there was a note of pleading in Ed's voice, and Roy frowned.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "No, Ed, we can't. Because you're a child and I got you into the military, and it's my duty to protect you."

"What are you gonna do, anyways? Anything you do will get swept under the rug, you're gonna throw away your whole career for one stupid kid?"

"I didn't say that." Roy took a breath, steadying himself. His heart pounded and he felt shaky. "More then likely, Ed, I won't be able to do anything. Right now. But I want to know because you are my subordinate, and it's my duty to protect you. And even if I can't do anything about it now, I want to know the name, so that I can put them at the top of my shit list when I have the rank to make their life hell. I'm not going to do anything stupid- but I'd like to know what happened."

Ed's eyes darted around the room. They were in a mostly empty hallway- the voting poll closed soon. "Not here." he said finally.

Alphonse was upstairs reading, out of earshot.

Ed sat morosely at the kitchen table, and Roy angrily put on the kettle, slamming it on the burner with more force than necessary.

What was most unnerving was that Ed still wouldn't meet his eyes, staring at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

He opened the cupboard, pulling out their two favorite mugs, parking them on the counter and splashing a little milk into the bottom of both cups, before squeezing a generous amount of honey into the other cup- Ed's cup. Ed always seemed happier after he'd drank tea that was very sweet. He hung two teabags over the rim of each cup.

The kettle started to sing, and Roy plucked it from the stove, filling both cups before taking them both by the handle, walking over to the table and sliding the forest green mug across the table to Ed, and nursing his own yellow mug close to him as he sat down.

"Well?" Roy cocked an eyebrow.

Ed glanced up at him, before he was staring into his mug. It was rare that the Fullmetal alchemist was without words, and it settled like a block of ice in Roy's gut.

"Did they do more than talk? Ed, did they hurt you?"

"No! I... let me drink my damn tea. I'm trying to figure out how to explain it." Ed groused, frustrated, before he was taking a minuscule sip of scalding tea.

Roy waited one moment, two... The silence made him anxious. But he needed to be patient with Ed, couldn't push the boy.

"Remember when Major General Cole came up to visit from South City?" Ed said finally.

Roy frowned. "That was 8 months ago. You'd just passed the state alchemy exam." Ed had just turned 13. He remembered because Hawkeye had insisted they share a cake in the office with the boy the day before the visit. Ed had seemed surprised but please, and thanked her for the cake. He'd devoured his piece happily, and licked all the frosting from his fork. Ed really did like sweet things. Ed had been quiet for the next few days, but Roy had assumed it was because he was sad Al couldn't have a birthday like a normal kid as well...

"Yeah. Well I was in the washroom that day, and I was... using the urinal..." it was hard for Ed to keep the blush from his cheeks. "And this guy walked in. And he went behind me into a stall, and I thought, no big deal, he's gotta go too."

"And when I was washing my hands, I felt a hand on my shoulder. And I turned around and this guy is staring at me. And I saw the bars on his chest- I didn't even know what rank he was, just that he was higher than you- and I tried to salute him because I was nervous, but my hands were all soap, and it was just a mess. I got soap in my eyes."

Roy suppressed the urge to smile. While the mental image was funny, if he'd laughed Ed would've thought he was laughing at him, and been more embarrassed. And there was nothing funny about this situation.

"He told me to relax. Said he was Major General Cole from South city and he wanted to know if I was the Fullmetal Alchemist. So I said yeah, and he said he'd heard I was a prodigy. He said that with how far I'd moved up the ranks already- I was a major- he said if I transferred to under his command, he'd make me a Lieutenant Colonel in 3 months. If I worked for it. And I thought that was really cool, to be the same rank as Hughes, but then I noticed he was getting closer to me and so I stepped back."

"He reached up and touched my braid. Said I'd have to put in work to make it happen though. Spend late nights at the office with him so he could show me what I needed to know. That was when I started feeling kinda weird... Then he told me I looked like a girl. And that a face like mine would be appreciated in his office.

"I told him I wasn't interested. He asked whose command I was under and I said Mustang, and I lied and told him you'd be mad because I was supposed to be back with an urgent report. I know I lied but I was scared and I didn't like him and so I turned and left. I knew he might try something if I was alone, but he thought you were expecting me, so he didn't."

"And you didn't tell me any of this." Roy was disappointed- both that Ed was too scared to tell him, and that he'd been put in that position in the first place.

"I didn't want to make waves. I'd only just got my state alchemist watch, and I figured it wasn't important. I didn't want enemies."

"You didn't trust me and my team to protect you?"

"No, I did, I just... It wasn't important at the time, alright? I had bigger things on my mind. I mean, yeah, it was weird, but I had to start looking for the stone with Al, so I put it aside because I had work to do. Even now, I just try to stay clear of officers from South City."

Roy sighed. "I wished you'd told me sooner."

"Yeah, I should have... What are you gonna do to him? Major General Cole, I mean?"

"I'm not going to do anything. I'm going to mention it to Hawkeye. And she's going to watch his every move until he files a report late or misses some paperwork or drops the ball. And then an anonymous report will get put in and he'll get in trouble. He's gotta drop the ball sometime. And if he doesn't- well, when I'm fuhrer, he'll clean latrines for the rest of his damn life."

"Right. That's good." Ed sipped his tea, looking slightly relieved. It was almost 10, now, and Ed looked at the clock, acutely aware of the time. "Any news from Hughes on the investigation?"

"No." Mustang sat up a little straighter, acutely aware. "And you're not sneaking out to try and catch the killer tonight either, understand?"

"Hey I was just asking." Ed put both hands up, defensive. He took a long pull of warm tea and yawned. "I'm tired, anyways. Hughes can handle it. I was just gonna do some reading and go to bed. Oh..." Ed paused, looking up at Roy hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Can... can we get a newspaper tomorrow morning? I want to know who won the election." Ed was almost shy about asking, and Roy smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, we can get a newspaper tomorrow."

"Cool. I hope Susans wins. I hate waiting for trains." Ed punctuated the statement with a yawn, taking his half-full mug and standing, heading upstairs.

"'Night."

"Goodnight, Edward.".

If Roy knew Edward well enough, the boy would be asleep soon after he finished his tea. That was one of the little things about Edward he hadn't known until the boy had moved in with him. That the boy was much more relaxed and easy to send to bed after he'd had warm tea with a considerable amount of honey in it.

Edward climbed the stairs and was about to head to his room when he noticed a candle burning in the study. He paused, mug in hand, before he was ducking inside. There, on the desk, was a worn journal opened to a page. There was an alchemic array he hadn't seen before sketched in the middle of the page, and for a moment, his fatigue was forgotten, replaced by curiosity.

The handwriting was old and spidery, hard to read and definitely not Roy's. But the array looked familiar. It looked- it almost looked like the array on Roy's gloves.

Ed paused, looking down at the book in awe. It was a manual on flame alchemy- something rare and hard to understand. Something he'd been able to think about, but never perform.

He wasn't sure he should be looking at it. But now that it was in front of him, it was hard to tear his eyes away... There was no such thing as forbidden, was there? Not when he'd already committed the ultimate taboo of human transmutation. Besides, if flame alchemy could help him reach his goal...

Ed swallowed down his racing heart. Since when was he afraid? He'd never been afraid to break rules before. He picked up the book, pocketing it, blowing out the candle and ducking into his own room, lighting his own candle and starting to pour over the book.

When he heard mustang start to climb the stairs, he quickly blew out his candle and ducked beneath the covers, hiding the book beneath the sheets and feigning sleep. He heard Mustang pause at his door, checking he was asleep, before he continued on down the hall, to his own room. Once Ed was sure he was gone, he struck another match, re-lit his candle, and continued reading, pulling a notebook from the nightstand and starting to take notes.

Flame alchemy was the most complicated thing he'd read of, let alone attempted, since human transmutation.

What’s this? A button to donate currency to the caffinated liquid fund? O.o https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

[morningfears]

Television Romance [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 (some swears, nothing major)

Summary: Natalia Adler is a stressed out grad student who attempts to escape the noise of her office by visiting her favorite coffee shop. However, instead of a few hours of writing, she gets a lap full of coffee and a date with the most gorgeous guy she’s ever met.

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter Two

The graduate student office was usually busy, bustling with activity and overflowing with graduate students working on various research projects or grading coursework as well as undergraduate students seeking assistance with assignments. It was always difficult to concentrate among the din, there was always some conversation or another taking place that was much more interesting than writing yet another proposal, but Tuesdays were the worst.

On Tuesdays, the graduate teaching seminar met in the student office. For an hour each week, the teaching assistants dragged whatever chairs they could find to the center of the room and formed a circle to discuss problems that had arisen in their classrooms, questions they had about university policy, and an article on teaching practices they were assigned to - but never actually did - read. The class was supposed to be useful, a way for them all to prepare for their futures as academics, but it usually turned into a shouting match as the stronger personalities argued over one another about best practices in classroom management. And after, when the dust settled and the faculty facilitator was gone, students who didn’t have a one o’clock class stuck around to catch up on whatever departmental gossip they’d missed throughout the week.

Most days, Natalia was able to tune it all out. Her desk was in the corner, hidden behind a flimsy partition, and her noise cancelling headphones worked wonders to drown out the arguments. She didn’t love catching snippets of pointless conversations about which departmental policies were outdated - they all were - or which graduate students were sleeping together but she made it work. However, today was not one of those days.

She had several important deadlines looming over her head - conference submissions, revisions for a potential publication, the first draft of her thesis proposal, all due within days of one another - and she was feeling overwhelmed. The argument as to whether the department was too hard or too soft on students - or whether professors played favorites - was only making things worse. Instead of subjecting herself to two more hours of torture, she decided to pack up her bag and head to the coffee shop across the street. Even if it was loud, it had to at least be less hostile than the office.

She stood, satchel slung over one shoulder with her cellphone and headphones in hand, and glanced over the top of her partition at the girl who sat across from her. Nicole, like Natalia, wore headphones whenever she worked in the office and only glanced up when Natalia tossed a paperclip at her.

“I’m going to Molly’s,” she announced when Nicole pulled her headphones away from her ears and glanced up at her. Natalia struggled to keep her voice quiet in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to herself, though she was half certain she could yell and still not be heard over her colleagues. However, she remained cautious as the last thing she wanted was for anyone to join her. “You want anything?”

“A new job, a better salary, a husband who takes out the trash… I could go on,” Nicole answered, rolling her neck and grinning tiredly at Natalia’s deadpan expression. “I’ll settle for a caramel latte, though. With almond milk and extra caramel, please. I’ll Venmo you.”

“I’ve got it,” Natalia assured her with a wave of her hand as Nicole reached for her cellphone, “you got me boba last week. You have class at three, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Nicole sighed as she dropped the device, straightened up in her chair, and pulled a face as she glanced at the syllabus tacked to her partition wall. “We’re going over how Marxism influenced Burke today. I think I’d rather chew off my own foot than try to teach a group of undergrads about either Marxism or Burke.”

“I know the point of college is to make kids think,” Natalia began as she hoisted her bag a little higher on her shoulder and ambled around her partition to stop beside Nicole’s desk, “but I’m glad I got the class that’s a little more, ‘well, duh,’ than that. We’re going over how fundamentally fucked the US healthcare system is today.”

Nicole paused for a moment, staring at Natalia with a look that reeked of both annoyance and exhaustion, before she dropped her head to her desk and asked, “Is it too late to drop out?”

This was a conversation they’d had at least once a week since their first semester of graduate school and Natalia bit back a laugh as she nodded. “Yep. You’re halfway through your thesis proposal, no quitting now,” she pointed out as she nodded toward the stack of books on religious rhetoric that Nicole had stacked on her desk. “Anyway, only eight more months until we’re free.”

“I’m three pages in,” Nicole informed her, a pitiful whine erupting from her throat as she lifted her head and ran a hand through her unwashed curls. “This is going to be a long semester.”

Natalia, who had been under the impression that she was impossibly behind although she only lacked a completed methodology section, grimaced upon learning just how far behind Nicole was. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and, although she had her own deadlines to meet, offered her assistance. “I’ll probably be sticking around after class tonight,” she informed her as she thought about the papers she still needed to grade, “if you need me to help with anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Nicole sighed as she turned in her chair and smiled at Natalia, the exhaustion evident in her features although they were only a month into the semester. “I’m thinking about a writing party on Friday so that people can submit conference papers and then go get hammered after. You in?”

“Always down for drinks after opening myself up for rejection. You can send out an email and maybe follow up with a GroupMe or something. Your husband won’t mind you spending Friday with us?” she asked as she glanced over at the group of students, now talking instead of arguing, that still remained in the room. Although they got on her nerves sometimes, she had grown to love most of them.

“He’s going to a football game with some friends. If I stay home, I’ll just end up falling asleep in the tub with a glass of wine. I’ll send the email after class,” Nicole answered as she grabbed her headphones and moved to reposition them onto her ears. “Go, get out of here before someone stops you. You’ll be back by three?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you have to leave. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over. See you in a bit,” Natalia hummed as she tapped the top of Nicole’s partition before maneuvering around the group that crowded the doorway and stepping out into the hall.

The building itself wasn’t that busy, it rarely was, but campus was teeming with students as Natalia stepped outside. They typically opted for afternoon classes rather than morning ones and it was obvious that classes held after lunch were the most populated as she watched students wander from building to building. Her own undergraduate experience had been very different - classes as early in the morning as she could get them and work in the afternoons until late at night - but she understood the desire to take advantage of the opportunity.

As a graduate student, her schedule was a little different. She was usually the first one to arrive in the office, just to get a little work done, and held office hours during lunch. She was a TA for a class that met on Tuesdays and Thursday at three and had her own classes to attend, with each of the three meeting once a week, starting at six p.m. and ending at around ten. 

She was busier than she had ever been, even busier than the two years she spent working two jobs and overloading her class schedule. It was harder and lonelier than undergrad had been. She had little time to feel human or socialize without anyone outside of her program, however, she told herself that it would all be worth it when she finished and had a master’s degree under her belt.

Natalia made the most of the few minutes it took her to walk from her office to Molly’s, the closest coffee shop to campus that wasn’t the always crowded Starbucks in the library. She rarely got to enjoy her days. They were usually spent locked in the office or cooped up in the library, neither of which had enough windows. Although it was September, fall still seemed a lifetime away. 

She could still smell summer as an occasional ocean breeze wafted through campus. The sun was bright and high in the sky and the air was warm. It felt like the height of summer, as it usually did in Los Angeles, and she was grateful that she’d chosen to wear a dress instead of pants as the slight breeze kept her from overheating as she entered Molly’s.

The little coffee shop was every Instagram obsessed student’s dream. The exterior was nondescript with plain white walls and a small patio with string lights and a few small tables, however, the interior more than made up for it. There were walls covered with ivy - though Natalia didn’t know if it was real or not - and neon signs littered around the space. There was also a loft with tables and chairs that always seemed to be quieter than the rest of the shop.

It had all been too much for her the first time she visited. It seemed gimmicky, not the kind of place she wanted to frequent even if it was convenient, however, her opinion changed the moment she tried the coffee. Her predecessors in the program hadn’t been wrong in telling her that it was the best coffee she could get and that it served as a good hideout when the office got to be too much to handle. She understood why it was frequented by both students and the outside community, even if it took them too close to campus.

Although the coffee shop was bustling with students rushing in and out between classes, filled with the sounds of conversation and the excitement that came with a new school year, it still seemed quieter than the office. After ordering her iced coffee and settling into a table near the entrance, Natalia slipped her headphones back on and bit her lip in concentration as she opened her laptop and began working on the revisions she’d gotten back from her co-author.

It was difficult, not paying attention to the patrons that entered the shop as she loved people watching, but Natalia kept her eyes on her screen and typed away. If she had glanced up, she might have seen the looks that people threw one another as two men entered the shop. She might have seen how a few snuck pictures with their cellphones or how others whispered excitedly as they passed them by. But she didn’t. All she saw was the cursor on her document blink as she tried to string together a coherent sentence.

She focused on typing a new explanation for a concept she thought she’d covered well enough to need no further explanation, a metaphorical dark cloud hanging over her head as she let the reviewer’s comments weigh on her pride. However, as she got into a groove, her word count quickly climbing, she felt something cold splash against her right side.

She sat, stunned, for a few seconds, before she pulled her headphones off and blinked at the coffee that stained the right side of her dress and dripped from her skin. Ice cubes gathered in her lap, cold seeping through the fabric of her dress as she attempted to process what happened. It took a few more seconds of staring at the mess before she picked up her laptop and held it away from the growing pool of coffee. Ice cubes clattered to the floor as she stood and she grimaced as she watched them fall. She looked over the computer, sighing in relief when nothing appeared to be wet, before she lifted her head and looked at the person responsible.

Any other time, her attention would be on how beautiful the man in front of her was. He stood a head taller than her, easily, with broad shoulders and a surprised expression that she was sure matched her own. His blonde curls had fallen into his eyes, obscuring the blue slightly, and his cheeks and upturned nose were tinted pink in embarrassment as he looked over the damage he’d done.

They stared at one another for longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on her face just as hers lingered on his, and she was glad that he at least had the decency to stare at her face instead of the wet fabric clinging to her. The man beside him, slightly shorter and more amused than embarrassed, nudged his friend who moved as if he were a video that had been taken off pause.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his words rushing together as he watched her place her laptop on a neighboring table to keep it out of harm’s way before she reached for a few napkins. “Fuck, here, let me help you with that.”

His hand bumped into hers as he reached for more napkins and began wiping at the table and, as cliche as it was, she felt a jolt of something shoot down her spine as she quickly pulled her hand away. It was easy for Natalia to ignore the feeling as she watched him make matters worse. She tried to hide it, however, she couldn’t help but grimace as she moved her bag away from the table, slipping it over her head in an effort to avoid him sweeping coffee inside it.

She shook her head at his apology and reached for another handful of napkins. “It’s okay,” she sighed, not wanting to be rude even though she knew she’d have to take time she was planning on using to write to go home and change before class, “at least it was iced coffee.” She tossed the soaked napkins into the trash and bent down to pick up the ice cubes and cup from the ground. “What happened, anyway?”

“He tripped,” the shorter, dark-haired man informed her before he took a sip of his coffee. He still looked amused, positively delighted as he watched his friend struggle to find the right words to say, and Natalia bit back a laugh as she realized everyone had a friend like him.

“I didn’t trip,” the taller man defended with a roll of his eyes, cutting his eyes at his friend before returning his attention to Natalia. He met her eyes sheepishly, the embarrassment softening his features as he explained, “Someone bumped into me on their way in and I, uh…” He trailed off, clearly having planned on saying that he tripped, and dropped his gaze to the floor as Natalia laughed.

“Tripped?” she finished, a smile on her lips despite the situation. When the taller man grimaced, bringing the hand not full of soaked napkins up to rub at the back of his neck, she laughed once more.

“Fine, I tripped,” he acknowledged, “but it wasn’t just being clumsy. Someone really did bump into me.” He gave his explanation more to his friend than to her and she wondered how often he found himself tripping over thin air. He looked solid, like he wouldn’t be the type to trip over his own two feet, but looks could be deceiving and she knew from personal experience how annoying it was to be the clumsy friend.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, a little more sincere in her assurance this time as she offered him a genuine smile. “Nothing spilled on my laptop and it wasn’t boiling so, worst case scenario was avoided. I think I’ll just not sit near the door next time, though.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good call,” he agreed. His lips were quirked in a smile, grateful that she wasn’t yelling at him, and he still held the soaked napkins in his hands. “I still feel bad, though. Can I make it up to you; buy you a coffee or something?” he asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice that told her he wasn’t just looking to make up for spilling coffee on her.

As much as it pained her to turn him down - and it hurt quite a bit as she found him to be beautiful, even in basketball shorts and a t-shirt - she didn’t have time. “That would be great,” she began, a rueful smile on her lips as she grabbed her laptop and slid it into her bag, “but I have to run. I need to go get changed before class. It’s really okay, though. No big deal.”

She didn’t miss the nudge his friend gave him and raised an eyebrow as she watched him swat at his friend’s elbow. “I, uh, how about dinner, then?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. 

He looked so earnest, his skin still tinted pink and his eyes wide, and she felt a giddy excitement bubble in the pit of her stomach. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy she never imagined would be interested in her, and she wanted to give him a chance. She didn’t know him, didn’t know if that chance would turn into a disaster, but she found herself wanting to take that risk.

“I have class until ten tonight,” she told him, biting back a coo when his face dropped at what he assumed was her rejection, “but if you tell me your name, I think I could free up my Friday night for dinner.”

He blinked, surprised at how her sentence ended, and smiled at her. He had a unique smile, his teeth on full display and tongue pressed to the back of them, and his eyes brightened as he nodded his agreement. “Right, yeah. Luke,” he introduced, moving to offer her his hand before realizing he still held the wad of napkins. “This meeting isn’t really going that well, huh?”

“I’d say it went south when you dumped coffee on her,” the friend commented, not even bothering to hide his grin as he watched the interaction unfold before him. “All downhill from there, mate.”

“I’m Natalia,” she introduced, pointedly ignoring his friend’s comment with an amused glance in his direction. “I’ve had worse first meetings, don’t worry. My freshman year roommate opened a door on me and gave me a concussion. You just stained a dress.”

“Oddly, that makes me feel better about this, thanks,” Luke laughed as he reached out and dropped the napkins into the garbage. “Can I get your number? That way you can go change now and we can make plans later,” he clarified, smiling at her as he offered her his cellphone to put her number in.

She felt Luke’s gaze on her as she put her number into his phone and she offered him a smile as she handed the device back. “I have one request for Friday,” she told him as she grabbed her own phone from the table and grinned at the text he sent her with his name, “no tables near the entrance.” Luke laughed at her request, a sound that she found endearing, and Natalia grinned at him. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“See you on Friday,” he confirmed, grinning as he watched her step around him.

Natalia and Luke maintained eye contact for a moment, each giddy and grinning as they felt the butterflies of something new on the horizon, before Natalia bumped into something solid on her way out and made a face before quickly turning to apologize. She tossed Luke a wave over her shoulder, her own cheeks burning in embarrassment, as she heard his friend mumble, “Wow, she’s perfect for you.”

As she stepped out into the world once more, she grinned at the encounter. It made her lose an hour of writing time - and ruined her favorite dress - but maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. She’d been single for years and hadn’t had any luck with dating apps. She knew that a boyfriend wasn’t the most necessary thing in her life, however, it might be nice to be the girl with a date for once. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Luke was gorgeous.

Whatever the future held for them, she found herself looking forward to it. 

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: If I try to start another series, someone fight me. Like, actually, genuinely fight me. I’m focusing on Rose Tattoo, These Violent Delights, and this. (And MF if I get inspiration but those updates are more sporadic, never meant to be regular, sorry. :() I want to write a few one shots but they’ll likely be shorter and just fun, you know? Not super plot heavy. I may or may not update the next chapter of this sooner than a week because this is kind of short. But, hey, I’ve got all the time in the world because after I defend next week, I’m done with grad school and that’s mildly terrifying. Anyway.  Here we go.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @old-zeppelin-shirt , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​

[bush-viper-cutie]

Love Me Roughly: Risking It All

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,080

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Severus must come clean and risk everything he has with the woman he loves. He tells her every horrifying and awful event from his past, expecting her to leave him and hate him forever.

A/N: This is part 6 of 7 for the Schedule 1 week 1: Snape Lives AU for Snape Appreciation Month 2020!  @snapeloveposts​

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/6/20

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Severus was out of the cabin, walking Jiggy in his white shirt and thinking through a great many things. First, he needed to tell her everything about himself. He couldn’t bare losing her, but he couldn’t take the guilt of knowing he was keeping everything from her.

She had been asking him questions about his life and he had told her basically nothing because he had been dancing around the fact he served a vile and hideous master for years and on two occasions, and that he had been working at Hogwarts for all of his adult life and technically murdered his employer.

By some miracle the more she has gotten to know him the more in love she has fallen, which was perfect considering he was as much in love with her. Too much actually. His heart ached for her and the guilt made it so much worse.

Second… He was growing sadder at the realization he had lost all his friends… well colleagues are what he would have called them then, but now he sees they were indeed his friends. He missed talking to Minerva every morning before breakfast, drinking coffee and complaining mostly.

He missed hearing the baffling stories Poppy would tell him every month about what annoying injuries students were coming to her with. Pomona was the only one who knew all the gossip and rumors going around school and Hagrid always offered to have him over for tea, though he refused every time.

If Hogwarts hadn’t been invaded, attacked, and burned, students would be packing their things and getting ready to get on the Hogwarts Express back to London by now. He sighed and shook his head, forcing all his memories out of his head. They were useless now.

Jiggy came running up to him indicating it was time to head inside for breakfast.

“How was the walk?” she hugged him tight, waiting for an answer.

He gave a weak smile and nodded, “As expected.”

The kitchen now looked like one that was in constant use. She had given him many of her pans and pots, ladles and spoons, jars and bottles which now filled the cabinets and counter. The table had placemats and a nice center candle that matched the color of the cushions on the chairs.

She had brought over her plants and flowers to fill the living room with life – though she claimed it was so she wouldn’t worry about watering them. There was also a rug and another reading chair in the living room with small bookshelves behind it. This was now a room where they both enjoyed sitting and reading together instead of an awkward empty place for Jiggy to lick his privates in.

They finished their breakfast and Severus headed upstairs to finish thinking through his decision. He came back down and cleared his throat. She looked up from Love Me Roughly – she had started reading it now after him – and closed it.

“Yes?”

Severus crossed the room and sat in his chair next to hers and closed his eyes shut, “I need to tell you about my life.”

He heard her shift in her seat, “I’m all ears.”

“No, you don’t understand… It’ll change the way you view me,” he sighed heavily and paused for a minute to center himself, “I need to tell you because there are things I’m feeling for you and I can’t allow this to go on without knowing that you understand exactly who I am.”

“Severus, I know who you are. I may not know your past but it’s not like you’re pretending to be someone you’re not…”

Severus nodded, “But there are some things I’ve done that you might not forgive me for…” He opened his eyes and turned to her. “If you’re going to hate me I’d rather it happened now than – ” his words caught on his throat and he swallowed his emotions down, “So let me explain myself.”

He stood up and placed his hands behind his back. He started pacing and began the story of his years after losing his best friend, joining the Death Eaters, and handing the Dark Lord the prophecy that would ruin his life and the lives of others.

He watched her eyes carefully, going from amusement to shock to anger, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she said nothing and made no motion to leave. He felt her hatred for him as he went on about finding out his oldest and only true friend he ever had was being targeted, and about how it was his fault she died.

He held back tears and kept his emotions in check as he went on about caring for the boy of his childhood bully, about being sent back to serve his old Master, and about murdering the only person who knew who he really was, good or bad.

She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and wiping away tears as he spoke. He couldn’t bare to look at her as he continued with all he had to do among the Death Eaters, even sitting there to watch as a colleague died before his eyes.

He sat back down on his chair and wiped a single tear as he explained his appointment as Headmaster and all that went on at Hogwarts, and the battle between Minerva and himself before he ran from the castle. He ended the story by recounting the events of the battle at Hogwarts and how he was attacked by the Dark Lord’s snake and how after curing himself and realizing it was all over, he had ran away and left the world behind.

“By now I’m sure they suspect I am alive or that one of the Death Eaters took my dead body. Though I don’t think anyone cares and would prefer it if I were dead,” Severus finally looked over at her.

She was wiping her tears and sniffling but did not meet his eyes, instead focusing on the book she held in her hands. She nodded and he took that as a que to leave the room to let her process all he had said. He headed upstairs and lay in bed where he let all his feelings come forward. He wept silently until his eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

. . .

Severus opened his eyes and squinted, unable to see in the darkness. He sat up and felt a hand slide down his chest and onto the bed. She had crawled into bed at some point and wrapped her arms over him. He turned and swept hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up as well, “Severus… I’m sorry you went through all that.”

She pulled him into her and held him tight, stroking his hair and hugging him as close to herself as possible. He started sobbing quietly, relieved that she was still treating him with love and care. He was sure that when he woke, she would be gone for good out of his life.

“They’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done,” he choked, “I’ll be hated ‘till the day I die.”

She pressed her lips to the top of his head and sniffed, “You can explain everything to them as you did me – ”

“And risk them hating me even more for not staying dead? No. Never,” he pushed away from her, “(Y/n)… You don’t understand. They will NEVER accept me back. When I-I started teaching there, I was so young and they forgave my mistake. Minerva took a while to come around but they accepted I had changed and learned from it… How could they possibly excuse my actions as an adult?” He started sobbing into his hands and was pulled back into her arms.

“You said he forced you, commanded you, to do all those things. They knew you were a spy – you can tell her – ”

“My only proof was murdered by my hand and they’ll accuse me of falsifying my memories…”

“What about the boy? Ha – ”

“Don’t. Speak his name.” Severus didn’t want to be reminded of him. He didn’t want to be reminded about anything to do with him. He knew he could never apologize for the things he had done, to his mother, to him… The boy knew everything now and all he could hope was for him to understand why things had happened the way they did… and how very sorry he was.

“I’m sorry, Severus… The reason I was in London was because of the battle. I was taking care of my nephew while his mother did her Auror duties for the Ministry… Not at the school but I still heard about how awful it had all been… I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

After several more minutes of crying, Severus was helped to his feet and out of his day clothes. She pulled his nightshirt down as he dropped his head on her shoulders and hugged her tight, unable to focus on anything. She pushed him into the bed and hugged him tight for hours until he fell asleep once more.

. . .

After hours of sleeping Severus was able to push everything back once more, using the rhythm of the warm water in the shower and the soft humming he heard coming from downstairs. He dressed and headed down, expecting a small breakfast but instead receiving what looked like a feast.

There were plates of bacon, sausages, eggs, pancakes, and waffles. There was a glass pitcher of orange juice and one of milk out on the table. He sat down and laughed.

“You realize I barely eat what you serve me normally, right?”

She laughed, “What you don’t eat put in the fridge because I won’t be here for three days, I’ve been called in to relocate another Wizard at five today,” she sat down and started filling her plate.

He arched an eye, “For a second I thought you had quit… You haven’t done that since… well me.”

She smiled and nodded, “Well I’ve been turning them down but I know this one will be a big commission so I feel I must take it.”

“Was it written in your tea yesterday?” he smirked, knowing she hated how he teased her about being a seer.

“As a matter of fact,” she took the last waffle from under his fork, “It was.”

He reached for the last sausage quickly and poured out juice, “Are you taking Jiggy?”

She hid her face behind her hands.

Severus put down his fork and sighed, “Must he always jump on my legs with dirty paws? How can I walk him when he finds me more interesting than the bushes and trees outside?”

“It’s only for three days, and if you put the leash on he can go by himself. He hates it and comes right back demanding for it to be taken off, happy?”

“Well I’m not pleased.” Severus took the empty plates and charmed them into washing themselves. “I need to get started on some potions anyways, so I suppose it’s best. They’re rather fowl smelling.”

“Please keep the windows open then,” she headed upstairs and left him to clean up the rest of the things.

Severus smiled. He was glad to have gotten everything off his chest yesterday. Nothing could possibly upset him after learning that such a unique and amazing woman could look passed all his flaws and accept it all willingly.

He wiped powder off the counter and placed everything in a jar and in the fridge for breakfast the next day. He cleared the table of the candle and pulled the chairs up against the back wall readying the space for his potion. He set out his jars and cauldron on the table and personally washed his stirring rod, making sure not a single smudge of anything was left on.

She came back downstairs with packed luggage, “I’m heading out now. My portkey leaves at four, but I need to go over some things at the office.”

Severus kissed her goodbye and stood back as she apparated out of his house. In the back of his head he heard a voice tell him she’d just left and would never be back, but the loud bark of her dog told him otherwise.

He chuckled, wondering if that was why she had left him. To keep him company and to assure him of her return.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 2: Tea and Coffee

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 2/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,072 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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

With their hands clasped together, Makoto and Haruka weaved through the sea of students and businesspeople. They weren’t running late, but they’d missed out on their morning swim and weren’t ahead of the crowd as usual.

Lost in thought, Haruka let himself be dragged along, confident Makoto would keep him from bumping into people. There was a restless itch beneath his skin, one that could solely be scratched by the water’s touch. If only he could skip his lectures and jump straight into afternoon practice.

Suddenly, Makoto came to a halt, startling him from his trance. Haruka looked up and saw the building Makoto had stopped at; a small, picturesque café tucked between the concrete.

"We have about fifteen minutes before our trains leave, do you want to get anything to drink? I could use some caffeine," Makoto said, gesturing his head towards the door.

"Sure," Haruka mumbled and he followed Makoto into the shop.

"I'll join the queue, you can wait here," Makoto said with his gentle smile. "What do you want?"

"Green tea," Haruka said, "Thanks."

While Makoto got in line, Haruka sat down at the nearest vacant booth, thankful no one would be breathing down his neck if he took too long stashing his change away in his wallet. Now, he could simply stare out the window and wallow in his daydreams.

Despite the morning rush, the queue moved quickly and Makoto was back with their drinks within a few minutes.

"Here." Makoto held out one of the take-out cups to him.

"How much?"

"My treat," Makoto said, "To make it up to you from last night and this morning."

Haruka scoffed. "You don't have to make up for anything," he said, but accepted the cup without further protest.

Per Haruka’s invitation, Makoto stayed over at his apartment last night. By the time Haruka's bedtime had long since passed, Makoto was still working on the essay he started earlier. He was afraid he would lose momentum and miss the deadline if he stopped before it was finished. So Haruka stayed up as well, not wanting to go to sleep while Makoto was working hard, and he pushed himself to read another chapter of his textbook. In the end, he forgot to set his alarm and though he usually woke up before it rang, alas they weren’t as lucky this time around.

It was a bit annoying he missed out on his bath and morning dip, but it wasn't like he was mad or anything - as if he could ever get mad at Makoto over something so trivial. Despite apologising multiple times and Haruka telling him it was fine, Makoto apparently still felt bad about it. If he felt like he could make up by buying him tea, then Haruka would let him. He'd just treat Makoto to dinner tonight and they'd be even again.

With their drinks in hand, they went back out onto the jam-packed street. Haruka took a sip of his tea, the liquid burning his lips a little, when he heard a gagging noise from beside him.

“What’s wrong?” Haruka asked, taking in the grimace on Makoto’s face. “Did they give you the wrong order?”

“No, this is exactly what I ordered,” Makoto said, yet the look of disgust prevailed. “Black coffee.”

A frown twisted Haruka’s thin eyebrows. “Why did you order black coffee?” Makoto always added heaps of milk and sugar and then some, otherwise he couldn’t stomach coffee. Haruka couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t do that now. Then, a memory of their first day of middle school flashed through his mind, of when Makoto decided to address himself differently from one moment to the next. “Are you trying to be more adult-like?”

“That’s not it!” Makoto said, although the sheepish way he rubbed his neck told him his actual reason wasn’t much better. “I’m trying to dial down my sugar intake and I thought this would be a good way to do it.”

“Why are you so concerned about that all of a sudden?”

“Because I’m getting older and it’s not healthy to eat so much sugar.”

Haruka snorted. “Why don’t you start by cutting back on all those chocolate cookies you eat?”

“I can’t! Those are my rewards, they keep me on track of my studying schedule. That’s why I thought I would start by drinking black coffee.” He took another sip and instantly, his handsome face contorted again. “But it’s really impossible.”

Haruka sighed and shook his head in fond exasperation. “Here. There’s not as much caffeine in it as in coffee, but it’s better than nothing.”

Makoto gawked at the offered cup like it was the last droplet of water in acres of desert, but he averted his head. “Thanks, but I can’t. This was supposed to be my treat to make it up to you, I can’t take your drink just because I don’t like mine.”

“Just take it,” Haruka insisted, “We both know you’re not going to finish yours and that’s a waste. I don’t mind black coffee.”

It never took much to sway Makoto, but the stern look on Haruka’s face made him accept the tea without further objections. “Thanks. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

The soft smile he blessed Haruka with was enough to pay all of his dues. “Come over tonight after work. I’ll make you a low-sugar dinner.”

“I’d love to, but I don’t see how that equals to me making up to you?”

“You can help out,” Haruka said, unable to resist teasing him a little, “As long as you don’t chop off your fingertips and don’t mix up the salt and the sugar again.”

“I won’t,” Makoto chuckled, “I’ve gotten better at cooking since we moved here, you know.”

“I know,” Haruka gave in, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

At last, they arrived at the station; the place to part ways for the day. They swiped their cards and passed through the gates, then Makoto turned to him.

“Thanks again for swapping drinks with me,” he called as he began to walk off to his platform, waving with his free hand. “See you tonight!”

“Bye.”

With a heavy heart, Haruka sped up his pace to catch his train on time. The longing for the water had been replaced by yearning for this evening to come. Now he had to figure out what they could cook up for dinner.

[vintage-story-time]

Her Mother's Lover

Chapter 2

Surprisingly, she slept quite late the next morning. When she had

finally showered and dressed, she found her parents were practically

through with their breakfast.

"Hello, sleepy-head," her father greeted her as she sat down at the

table. "How does it feel to sleep in your own bed again?"

"Nothing like it," she answered. "That's another reason I don't want to

go back to school, I'm too comfortable here."

"I think you're grownup enough to come to the party tonight," Minna said

looking appraisingly at her daughter. "It's just going to be some of

father's business friends, and mine too, nothing big."

"That's right," her father chimed in, "and if you need a dress you can

use the family charge account at Saks or Altman's as usual."

"Oh mother," Charisse said happily, "that sounds just too groovy, but I

guess I'm going to surprise both of you . . . I mean I'm still so tired

for some reason, I'd just as soon pass up the party and get to bed

early!"

"All right, dear," her mother said with a rather surprised look. "But I

do want you to get out today and get some fresh air, you look a little

pale to me."

"I intend to mother. I'm going to take a long walk in the park, say

hello to my favorite seals in the zoo, and just read on a bench until

it's time for dinner."

"I wish I didn't have that concert to rehearse for - I'd keep you

company darling. It sounds like a lovely, lazy sort of day that I

haven't had for ages." -

Charisse spent the day in Central Park, as she had planned. She departed

from her plans in one respect. She went to the Metropolitan Museum of

Art and viewed again their wonderful sculptures - her favorite still

being the nude Venus Aphrodite, rising from the surf in all her feminine

glory. She wondered why the statues of the naked goddesses held her

interest so much more than the statues of the naked men, which after all

showed every detail of the male sexual organs.

When she came home, she could hear her mother talking to someone on the

phone. Carefully lifting the extension phone in the kitchen, she

listened. Her mother was talking to a man with a deep virile voice,

someone who was a stranger to Charisse.

She heard her say, "There's this damned party of Charlie's tonight . . .

but maybe we'll be able to see each other anyway if I can get out of the

house with some kind of an excuse . . . "

"That would be wonderful, darling. But if you can't make it, we'll see

each other tomorrow night at my place."

"That's a date, dear," Minna laughed in her rich contralto and then hung

up.

Charisse replaced the receiver and thought to herself why Minna should

he making evening dates with the possessor of the virile baritone voice.

Could there possibly have been anything to those monstrous articles in

the scrap-books? Well, it was probably a business appointment, even if

it all did sound very sexy. It was out of the question to Charisse that

her adored mother would seriously play around with, or give her body to

a mere man . . .

She took a shower which had the effect of stimulating and refreshing her

body to the point where she felt ready to take on anything. Going into

the kitchen, she fixed herself a salad and some milk and cake and took

it up to her bedroom, determined to just listen to some good music and

then go to sleep early.

But sleep was out of the question for her as she began to hear the

slamming of doors and the bustling noises of the evening's party guests

arriving. There really weren't more than seven or eight people at the

party, but as the drinks began to take effect they were soon making

enough noise for a regiment. Wondering what was really causing all the

commotion, Charisse opened the door of her bedroom a bit and peeked out.

There was the usual drinking, small talk and boozy laughter going on in

the living-room. Everyone had already had dinner. Her mother was in the

hallway, diagonally across from her bedroom, talking to Jack Lennard, a

mature, rather thickset sort of man. He had been a friend of the

Mantells for years and Charisse remembered him with feelings of

distaste.

For one thing, ever since she had been thirteen, he had always been

feeling her up whenever he visited the house. He would put his hand on

her asscheeks and sensuously slide it up and down, his palms or his

elbows were always sort of moving up and down over her budding titties.

He made it all seem like some kind of accident, but Charisse knew that

he really meant it. If he had the nerve to boldly feel her sex organs

the way he did when her father and mother were in the apartment, she

wondered what would happen if they were out. She was glad that he had

never happened upon her when she was alone in the apartment. She felt he

would have raped her without the slightest hesitation. She really didn't

care much about Jack Lennard.

She felt the same way about his wife Cora Lennard, who was an attractive

brunette of about thirty-five with a voluptuous well- preserved body.

Her face was always faultlessly made up, even if it was a bit too heavy

on the mascara and lipstick. What Charisse disliked about Cora was her

constant air of supercilious sophistication and snobbishness. She

affected a kind of super-cool which she let you know in a subtle way

that nothing could break down.

Her mother and Cora were deep in conversation in the hallway near her

bedroom. As she strained to catch some of their "woman- talk" she was

surprised to see Cora press against her mother's body. One of her hands

descended to Minna's lush asscheek and fondled it, while the other was

actually grasping one of her mother's breasts - and squeezing it! Her

mother surprised her by covering Cora's hand on her breast with her own,

and smilingly removing Cora's hand from her ass, she whispered something

to her. Cora's wide mouth opened wider, her red lips emphasizing her big

white teeth. Amazed, Charisse watched her mother lead Cora into her

bedroom. Her curiosity overcoming her surprise, Charisse tiptoed to the

door of her mother's bedroom. The door was closed, but light was

streaming through the large keyhole of the door. Charisse knew from

secretly watching her mother undress and give herself beauty treatments

before retiring that the keyhole afforded a complete view of the room if

a light was on. There was a moment of guilty hesitation for her, and

then she gasped as she placed her eye to the keyhole. Maybe all those

gossip columns and nasty remarks had something to them! Maybe where

there was so much smoke there was also a little fire!

She tried hard to understand what she was seeing and even hearing

through the door. There was her mother lying back on the bed, her

expensive silk evening dress with its skirt tucked up to her waist. Her

beautiful legs were clad in sheer nylons, but she was wearing no girdle,

the stockings were rolled. And she was wearing no panties either! The

sight of her mother's alabaster white hips, her exposed reddish bush

hair and moist, pink cuntlips shocked her.

Hypnotized by the unusual sight she heard her mother laugh and say,

"You'll have to make this one a quickie, Cora darling. If we stay up

here too long, they'll miss us both in the living room!"

"You know I'm an artist and don't like to be rushed, Minna. Is Mr. Dildo

still in your third dresser drawer, under you slips?"

Apparently it was, because she saw Cora go to the drawer and take out a

peculiar looking harness - it looked just like a garter- belt with a

huge red knockwurst hanging from it. She saw Cora lift up her dress,

remove it and after taking off her slip and panties, she strapped on the

object she had called Mr. Dildo. Now Charisse recognized it for what it

was, a huge imitation red rubber male sex-organ, complete down to the

two testicles dangling from it.

"Take off your bra, Minna," she heard Cora say, breathing heavily. "You

know I like to feel them!"

As her mother removed her bra, she saw her lush white tits and their

huge pinkly erect nipples completely exposed to Cora's questing hands.

Cora began to knead them and she could see her mother's nipples

stiffening and erecting under the kneading and caressing of her titties.

She saw her mother spread her legs, her mouth forming an anguished

invitation. Cora leaned forward between her mother's legs and with a

grunt of triumph she shoved the dildo completely up into Minna's moist

vagina.

As Cora began to slide the huge rubber penis in and out of her mother's

pussy, she could hear her mother's gasps of pleasure. Then Cora's

movements became more violent and she could actually hear the threshing

of the two women's bodies. Her mother began to moan as if she were in

some kind of pain, while Cora's breathing sounded as if she were running

a race.

Suddenly she heard her mother whisper urgently, "Oh, Cora darling, shove

it all the way up my hole . . . ah . . . all the way up . . . I want to

feel those red balls slapping up against my cunt!"

Charisse knew that what she was seeing was a sex act, she had enough

lectures in hygiene at school to know that.

But she had only heard vaguely that women were sometimes lovers and that

it was a very immoral thing called Lesbianism that just didn't happen

among nice people. Yet here was her own mother being sexually entered by

a woman-friend! It was unbelievable and yet it was happening in front of

her very eyes. She had tried to imagine what having a man push his thing

into her cunny would be like, she knew that when you lost your "cherry"

it was supposed to hurt and that you bled from there for awhile. But

this sounded as if her mother were actually enjoying the big red prick

that Cora was shoving in and out of her vagina with savage rhythm.

"It's all the way up now . . . oh . . . keep ramming that prick up my

cunt . . . I just love it, darling . . . oohh . . . "

She was fascinated as she watched Cora fucking her mother. They were

hopelessly enmeshed in the sex act now, moaning and gasping as if

nearing the end of a grueling race. She knew she was watching something

forbidden and terribly immoral - who could ever imagine such a thing

between her adored mother and that loud brassy Cora Lennard!"

"How does Mr. Dildo feel?" she heard Cora ask her mother. "Is he far

enough up your wonderful cunt?"

"Yes, yes Cora, you're tickling my uterus right now - you can't go any

further. I just love the way you fuck me! You beat any man!"

She saw Cora's solid thighs, and the red dildo going in and out, faster

and faster up her mother's cunt. The whole thing was so exciting that

she began to have a funny feeling in her own cunny. She touched her

panties and felt that her crotch was all wet . . .

She still wondered how her mother could let a crude woman like Cora do

such an intimate thing to her. Wasn't her father the only one with the

right to put his prick into her mother's cunt?

Now their two bodies began to thresh up and down even more violently on

the bed. Charisse felt herself getting hotter and wetter in her crotch

as she watched.

"Screw me babe, screw me all the way!" she heard her mother practically

shriek. Charisse was aroused and bursting with curiosity about the

sensation that could produce this abandoned reaction in her mother's

body.

Unconsciously Charisse's hand crept down to her crotch and felt the

cloth saturated with hot seepings from her cunny. She worked her fingers

under the material and began to finger her pussy-lips, like she did when

she was bathing, or late at night when she couldn't sleep. As she

watched Cora's white asscheeks rising and falling, her finger began

working with the same rhythm in her own cunt.

Faster and faster the huge, red dildo, glistening now with her mother's

cunt-juice, rammed in and out of Minna's bushy twat. Charisse worked her

own fingers faster and faster on that specially sensitive spot, high

between her cuntlips.

"I'm coming, Cora, please fuck faster, I'm coming so good, Cora doll . .

. all the way up now!" her mother practically wailed.

"I'm going to shoot right up your hole baby!" Cora gasped. She squeezed

the big red testicles of the dildo and then almost screamed triumphantly

- "I've come, you bitch! I've come and shot a hot load in you! Doesn't

that feel good?"

Amazed, Charisse saw a white milky fluid seep from her mother's pussy as

they both quivered and contorted in the throes of their orgasm

Apparently, squeezing the balls of the dildo had ejaculated the white,

milky fluid into her mother's still twitching pussy.

Still crouching at the keyhole she knew she must leave now that the

immoral frenzy she had just seen was over. It would be terrible if they

discovered her at the door!

"Let's get back to the party, Cora dear," she heard her mother

whispering.

"O.K., just let me feel those darling tits of yours once more - and then

off we go to those damned squares outside!"

As she saw Cora mouth her mother's naked nipples, she turned away from

the door, straightened up and walked tensely into her bedroom. Confused

thoughts were struggling with the scene she had just witnessed. Her

mother, her idol, the strong beautiful woman she worshipped had just

engaged in an act with another woman which most people would deem

obscene. And yet, in spite of the evidence of her own eyes, Charisse

knew that her mother was good - and honest. No matter what a million

gossip sheets might say, she knew that her own mother could never do

anything basically wrong. She still was absent-mindedly fingering her

wet crotch, and as she thought of what she had just seen, she pulled her

panties down her legs. Without the thin material in the way, she began

to work her fingers up and down between her cuntlips. The warm feeling

in her pussy began to spread, and just as she thought of how her mother

and Cora had shrieked their comes, her cunt began to twitch violently.

Even though she had masturbated before, Charisse had never come like

this. Cunt-juice just seemed to ooze from her as she moaned in the

throes of the most intense come of her young life.

"Oh mother, mother, how could you," Charisse whispered to herself as her

come came to an end. Feeling her wet pussy, with cunt-juice actually

dribbling down her legs, she decided to take a shower and then go to

bed.

Tiptoeing to the bathroom, she noticed that her mother's bedroom door

was wide open; apparently Cora and Minna had rejoined the others. The

alcoholic gaiety of the party was still going on, but as she passed the

door to her father's bedroom, she stopped at the sound of his voice.

What was he doing in his bedroom while his guests were partying?

Someone answered her father and it sounded like a woman's voice. Her

curiosity was aroused, and boldly she bent down to the keyhole of her

father's room. Surely her father wasn't cheating on Minna and frigging a

woman guest from the party! Her father was nice, but really such a

weakling - she couldn't see him being aggressive enough to shove his

thing between a strange woman's legs. He probably only did it with

mother because she let him! So what on earth was happening? Who was

really cheating and being cheated on?

The sight that met Charisse's eyes this time astounded her. Her father

was lying back on the bed, his pants and underwear completely off. There

was a completely naked blonde girl on the bed with him, with wide supple

hips, generously curved breasts and a mouth that looked like a painted

red gash.

"You're warming me up Charlie," the girl was saying to her father. "Just

a little more of that . . . huh, sugar . . . "she wheedled.

Charisse was glued to the keyhole. A little more of what, she wondered.

And then she knew. The blonde had been sitting on her father's chest,

legs astride and facing him. Suddenly, she shifted her position forward

and opening her legs wider, she seemed to sit down on her father's

mouth. Her father began to move rhythmically as the girl's cuntlips and

his lips seemed to meet in a sucking, writhing contract

"Oh, you bastard," the girl gasped, you've got your goddamn tongue right

on my clitty and I'm coming, I'm coming!" . . . her wail trailed off as

her torso performed a series of shuddering contortions, her pussy still

being sucked by her father's lips.

As her father worked his face from between the girl's legs, he smirked

and said, "Turn about fair play, honey!"

Shifting her position the girl kneeled over her father's middle and then

she saw her grasp her father's penis.

"My but Daddy's got a bigger prick than I expected," she said to

herself.

She had never seen anything that thick or stiff in her life. The head of

it was deep-pink and throbbed like a living thing. As the blonde's big

wet lips closed over her father's cock, she heard him say, "Now give me

a real good blow job, Sheila. After all, if you want a part in one of my

TV shows, just consider this an audition . . . "

He said nothing more as Sheila's mouth sucked up and down his huge,

stiff shaft. All he could do, apparently, was to moan encouragingly as

the girl's cocksucking pace increased.

Charisse watched his glistening, tremendous cock with a feeling of awe.

She never would have dreamt that a mild-mannered man like her father

could be the possessor of such a virile dick. Maybe there was a good

reason that mother had married him after all. She hadn't seen any cocks

to speak of, except on statues or in text-books, but her father had a

cock you had to respect.

Suddenly, her father pushed the blonde girl's head away from his penis.

"I want to shoot in your twat!" she heard him say coarsely.

Again she gazed at his tremendous penis. It seemed to be at least nine

inches long, with the head looking like a big oval vibrator as it

quivered and glistened with Sheila's saliva on it. Her father's

testicles matched his cock, looking like two huge tomatoes covered with

hair.

Her father turned abruptly, and as the blonde Sheila spread her legs, he

thrust his penis into her pink, golden-bushed pussy. Sheila gasped as

his cock rammed completely up her vagina.

"Give it to me Charlie, shove it all the way up my twat!" Sheila moaned

as he started to fuck her in earnest, his cock ramming in and out of her

wet cunt with a steadily increasing rhythm.

The sight of a real cock, instead of a dildo, seemed to excite Charisse

even more as she watched the frigging, tossing bodies on the bed. She

wasn't wearing her panties, and she could feel the hot wet juice from

her pussy starting to dribble down between her legs, as she watched

Sheila being fucked by her father.

Charles Mantell, TV producer was thoroughly enjoying the frigging

"audition" he was giving the voluptuous young actress. He edged up and

spread her legs wider, so that his dong could plunge more deeply into

her moist, pink cunt.

Charisse felt a twinge of jealousy as she saw that huge stiff prick of

her father's going in and out of the blonde's cunt. If her father's cock

could give such pleasure to another woman, why was her mother allowing

her vagina to be invaded by a rubber dildo? Sheila's hips began to

writhe and twitch under the steady ramming of her father's cock. As

Sheila threshed from side to side, Charisse sensed that her orgasm

wasn't far off.

Unconsciously her hand dropped down to her own drooling pussy, and for

the second time that night Charisse began to keep time to a hump rhythm

with her fingers in her cunt. Her own pussy's excitement mounted as she

watched Sheila's heightening passion under the onslaught of her father's

dick.

She dreaded being caught spying through the keyhole, and masturbating

her own cunny at the same time . . . what was happening to her. And yet,

fascinated by her father's pistoning cock sliding in and out of Sheila's

blonde-bushed twat, she couldn't tear herself away.

"Give me your cock . . . ram it in up to Your balls, Charlie . . fuck me

. . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . . ." Sheila pleaded as she felt her

orgasm welling up within her vagina.

"I'm going to shoot my load . . . shoot my scum into that blonde cunt of

yours . . . " Charles Mantell groaned as he rammed his cock so deeply

into the blonde's cunt, that his balls literally slapped against her

cuntlips.

"Oh God . . . you're making me come, you're making me come Charlie . . .

shoot, shoot your goddamn load all the way up my cunt," the writhing

blonde literally shrieked as her lovely torso contorted into a come of

staggering proportions. Charisse could see the lips of her cunt

practically curling and sucking around her father's jerking cock.

"I feel your hot cum in me," the blonde sobbed, "Oh, shoot all that

sweet ball-juice to me, daddy, I'm gonna milk it to the last drop.

Her father moaned and now he was pumping his penis in and out

erratically - holding it in for many seconds, and then thrusting

convulsively into Sheila's pussy.

"I'm coming, too! I'm coming, too!" her father groaned as his arms

closed around Sheila's convulsing torso. Then, "Milk that cock, baby,

get the last drop out into that sweet pussy . . . "

Charisse kept watching them, her hand still between her cuntlips, her

finger lightly moving on her clitoris. Then she remembered she had been

on the way to the bathroom to wipe her pussy and continued to the

toilet.

She looked in the mirror and noticed that her face was flushed. She just

couldn't take her finger away from her clitty, and as she played with

it, her yearning, indefinable sensation built up more and more within

her. She knew she was on the brink of coming and stopped for a moment to

savor the sensation in her cunt . . to prolong it just as much as she

could.

For some reason, visions of Cora, the dildo ramming in and out of her

mother's pussy seemed to dominate her mind.

"I'll bet that dildo feels better than a man's thing . . . mother must

know best!" she murmured to herself as she began her autoerotic cunt and

clitoris massage once again.

She wondered why her mother was always foremost in her mind. Her mother

was definitely the strong, decisive person in her parents marriage. Dad

was a nice man, in a mild, namby-pamby sort of way. But Minna Mantell,

the singing star, overflowing with life, vitality and a positive

personality, was Charisse's ideal. She could feel much more, was

actually always closer to her mother than her father. In a sense, that

was one of the reasons she had impetuously run away from school.

If her mother would only make Charisse her private secretary- companion,

that would be career enough for her. And, in this fixation on her

mother, she realized that she was different from the other girls in

school who mostly bragged and talked about their fathers.

She had an idea she turned to her mother, because her mother somehow

seemed to be a stronger haven of security.

She put her hand back on her vagina and parting the wet lips with her

forefinger, she let it play on her stiff clitoris once again. The

hygiene teacher had warned all the girls against masturbation, but how

could something that felt this good be bad?

As she kept playing with her clitoris and her finger got wet, she

fancied that it was Cora's dildo that was going into her hot pussy. But

it wasn't Cora who was wearing the dildo, it was her mother Minna,

gently shoving the rubber prick between her cuntlips.

She came so suddenly and so strongly, that for a moment she thought her

body was actually going into convulsions. There was a veritable gush of

cunt-juice on her hand, her inner thighs, drops of it on the floor as

her cunt spasmed in the most shattering come she had ever experienced.

"Oh my God," she said to herself as the waves of the intense orgasm

began to recede . . . " If I can feel this way by just masturbating

after seeing people fucking, what will the real thing be like."

"Probably blow my mind!" she giggled to herself as she carefully washed

her pussy, dried herself off and left for her bedroom.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 9- Burnt Parchment

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A brief respite for the hermits, they all take the time to rest, train, and learn more. While Xisuma digs through the libraries for information on dark magic, Stress discovers an unnerving note far from home.

____________________________________

Xisuma hums to himself, fingers running along the books. Old leather soft and emblazoned with gilded letters, sharp parchment of scrolls cutting into his skin with new vigor. All kinds of books and tomes and tablets, collected among Joe’s library. It’s a well cared for collection, and Joe prides himself on all the knowledge stowed in his home. 

The only problem is how he sorts his books. Most librarians would use one of many systems developed by scholars, perhaps by genre or author’s last name. But no, Joe used his own strange system, a madness to his method. No matter what the other hermits do to fix his insanity among the stacks, he only shuffles it back. And Xisuma is stuck reading through the strange collection their resident poet has amassed. He blinks away as he reads something he’d rather not, and pulls free an aged scroll, adding it to the collection in his hands. 

Xisuma steps back, turning. His eyes fall across the large black lacquered cabinet settled in the corner of the poet’s home. Distant from everything else, even the azure blue bed that’s covered in half-written poems and spells. Cold metal brushes against X’s fingers as he unconsciously touches the wrought iron key. “Dark magic has to be somewhere in there.” 

He reluctantly opens the banned book cabinet. Joe isn’t a person to ban books just for being controversial. In fact, the poet loves to bring books other libraries wouldn’t dare hold. Knowledge that should be spoken, kept safe. Illegal works against the Council, exposes on guilds, lost history no longer taught in schools. If their island in the Ashioll sea was a sanctuary to the illegal guild, this library was a sanctuary to illegal words. 

But even some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands. And if there’s anything X could call dark magic, it’s dangerous in any hand. Only one book among the darkened oak shelves gives him any hint to it’s contents including dark magic. A book about ancient magic. Why is this with the taboo tomes? Xisuma stands, tucking his armful of books close to his chest and donning his mask back on to face the sunlight.

Xisuma is a void wizard. He spends his days staring into the darkness of space, learning from the motions of dark matter and the void between stars. When others look to the light to discover truth, he can see everything beyond space and time, warped by the light others seek. X’s fingers run across a fractured part of his helmet. Where an insignia of a sun surrounded by spiraling void was dented out of existence. He can just barely feel the sharp triangular points of his brother’s symbol nowadays. 

He pulls the mask over his head, and braves the sunshine of his island home. In the distance, he can hear yelling, followed by the sharp clang of metal. The ground rumbles, and out of the corner of X’s vision he sees pillars of stone spire free from the grass. False and Scar are dueling, and Xisuma notices silver coins being passed between TFC and Cub. An easy smile appears beneath X’s mask. TFC was never one to stay holed up in the infirmary long. He’s still pale and weak from the crystal attack, but nothing would stop the guildmaster from being with his family. So long as he’s not using his magic, Xisuma won’t stop him. 

The fading black veins up TFC’s arm reminds Xisuma why he’s researching dark magic. After what happened to their guildmaster, their leader and father figure, Xisuma needs to know why it happened. And how to stop it from hurting any of his family. Ever again. Dirt crunches under his boots as Xisuma walks to the stone tower he calls home. The oldest structure, the first part of the island built up. When him and his brother fled into the mysterious sea, setting up the Order of Hermits. Fitting name, seeing as they’re the only ones brave enough- or stupid enough- to call the odd archapelago home. 

“Sheshwammy!” Keralis’s voice runs across the air like honey, but the magnitude of his voice causes Xisuma to jolt in his boots. A scroll drops, falling open and rolling across the dirt. Xisuma groans, tucking his chin to chase after the runaway parchment. Keralis aids him, scooping up the scroll and tightening the paper around the wooden rod. “Whatcha got there? A little bit of light reading?” 

“I wouldn’t call dark magic ‘light reading’.” Xisuma chuckles, plucking the scroll handed across from him. Keralis’s expression is quite alarmed. 

“Dark magic? Like spooky scary attacking crystal dark magic?” Keralis peers at the books in Xisuma’s hand. “Why are you trying to learn dark magic?”

“I’m not trying to learn it- I’m trying to learn about it. So...so things that happened in Gildara don’t ever happen here. Don’t ever happen to our island.” Keralis nods, nudging Xisuma’s shoulder to show it was all in jest. And the void mage feels like he can breathe. 

“Are you going to hole up in that tower of yours then?” Keralis watches X’s eyes through his visor, the crossed scars over his left eye. “Sheshwammy, come, let’s have some tea in my house! Soak in the sun, it’s good for you!” 

Keralis waves Xisuma to the glass hemisphere, tall grass and undergrowth flourishing in the massive terrarium. A single tree props up the glass from within, and a beehive thick with honey sits like fruit hung low from the tree. Black flecks buzz around among the terrarium, denizens of bugs flying in their habitat. To and from their food and wherever they make home within Keralis’s terrarium. When Keralis first showcased his magic to Xisuma, he admits he was freaked out. To gain magic by consuming bugs seemed...strange. But over time, it was no different than Joe’s poetry magic or Tango’s hellbound spells.

“Hello Suzy. How’s the hive today?” Keralis giggles, giving the fuzzy bee a pat. X stops at the door, watching Keralis file away some of his magical treats for later. “I was just coming to grab some more beetles before fighting Cleo, but this gives me an excuse to not face her now.” 

Xisuma sits down among the grass, the tall blades bending outward like a nest. Green and grey robes spread out, and Xisuma sets his pile of books on Keralis’s green bed. Keralis places a cup of tea in his hand, his friend remembering exactly how much sugar, honey, and milk he likes in his tea. Xisuma’s shoulders untense, remembering why he wanted a guild in the first place.

They weren’t just a team. They were family. They have each other. He’s not the only one worrying about TFC, others are taking good care of him. And they take good care of each other, including X. Xisuma swirls the spoon in his tea, blowing on the steaming drink and raising his head to feel the sun filter through the glass dome. His brother always wanted a family like this, but sometimes the sun shines too bright even for those who rely on it’s light. Every time Xisuma feels the warm rays on his brown hair, he thinks of his brother. 

But he always chases the thoughts out. That wimp left, ran away when things finally started to become real. Xisuma pulls the book on the top of the stack and forces it open. He flips to the page about magic law and illegal magic. 

Keralis peeks over Xisuma’s shoulder, trying to follow the insane speed the void wizard reads at. He doesn’t catch everything he sees, or understands most of what he reads, but the pages do reference the words he fears to be true. “Do you really think someone is practicing dark magic?” 

“I’m sure it’s dark magic. You saw how those husk people acted.” Xisuma picks up a book discarded to the side, pointing to a single paragraph. Hardly more than a line references the process of magic. “Dark magic is illegal for a reason- it steals power, killing the person who it’s stolen from. But none of these books talk about how it happens. There’s no mention of crystals, or the entire land devoid of life. A grey wasteland.” 

“What about this book?” Keralis sits in the grass, pulling up a massive, ancient leather book. “Plirus Mageia.” The bug mage opens the book, dust spouting free of the yellow, torn pages and causing Keralis to cough. 

“Well, it says it’s complete, but does that really mean…” Keralis grins as he discovers dark magic listed in the index, flipping to the page. It’s Xisuma’s turn to peer over Keralis’s shoulder, watching the ancient pages flipping forward, deft fingers searching for the page number listed.  Until they go past it. Keralis frowns, and flips back. And misses again. One by one, they look through the book. All that remains of the chapter on dark magic is ash, pouring into Keralis’s lap when he tips the book forward. “Someone doesn’t want dark magic to get out.” 

“Or someone doesn’t want anyone to know their secret.” Keralis whispers. 

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

Stress packs the snow tight, pressing rosy pink lips onto the forehead of the snowman. One hand has her icy magic circle pressing against the torso. A little kiss like that sends magic surging through the white snow, each crystal and snowflake imbued with her power. The stone eyes blink and bluster against it’s cold body, and stick arms wiggle to life. “There you go lovely! Go explore! Watch out fer the edge!” 

Stress giggles as the snowman wanders across her icy island home. Just offshore of Eremita, she built her igloo under the cooling respite of an eternal snowcloud. She sits back, closing her eyes and feeling the chill touch of snowflakes falling on her pale cheeks. The cold water tickles her skin, clinging to the warm, fluffy grey fuzz that keeps her comfortable. She loves the cold, because it means she can cozy up in her warm robes, fluffy boots, and thick pants. She doesn’t have to worry about her hair being too long at her neck, or if she has too many blankets- which is never enough in her opinion. She’s known as a blanket thief, and it takes bribery to get them back. 

Snow crunches, the fresh layer depressing onto the white powder beneath it. Stress peeks open her eyes, and notices her new snow friend is waving for her attention, rock mouth mute to call for her. Rigid sticks flap back and forth, until the snowman knows it has her attention. It points a wooden finger down to the icy waters around her island. 

“What is that doin’ here?” Stress questions, standing up. She brushes the snow from her rear, watching the tiny boat rock against the ice chunks. She can only imagine if these enchanted sailboats had little itty bitty sailors, they’d look like massive icebergs, just before a frozen continent at the bow. “I thought these didn’t leave the cities.” 

Stress scoops up the wooden boat, fingers running along the smoldering fabric sail. The edges turn to ash upon her touch, embers eating further into the sail and smoking the wooden ship. It’s in bad shape, and Stress can’t figure out how such a little ship meant for messaging within a city made its way out here. Why is it burned?

She remembers the contents of the boat, pulling off a glove to squeeze her finger into the thin deck. Sure enough, a scroll was being carried by the scorched ship. The snowman at her side reaches for the boat, like a child desiring a toy. It’s wish is granted, Stress ignoring the boat in lieu of opening the parchment. 

It’s burned as well, and whatever edges aren’t black and charred are torn and tattered. On the backside, Stress can see printed letters torn through. It reminds her of when she went to school in Milliara, among the other noble children learning how to be good heirs, passing notes on torn sheets of their notebooks. The twine falls apart in her hand, allowing the burnt parchment to open. 

Stress gasps, letting the letter fall to the snow. She runs to the icy edge of her snowstorm, but the ice rises to meet her feet. Walking across frozen water beneath her shoes, until she’s on solid ground again. She doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate. She needs to tell the others what was on the paper. 

The parchment, burnt and soaked with snow, flutters in the warm Ashioll sea air. Blood for ink scrawls out two words. 

HELP DANES

[darriness]

Fic - Let It Be Me

Author: darriness

Word Count: 25705

Ship: Klaine

Rating: M

Summary: It's been three years since Blaine fell in love with Kurt, but between college, jobs, social lives, and parenting his twelve-year-old sister, can Blaine manage it all?

Beta: @darrenismydarcy

Artist: @usurix​ (link to piece)

Author’s Note: I finally get to post my Blaine Big Bang fic! This fic has been many many many months in the making and I’m so excited to share it with you! A heads up before you read it - This fic is a sequel to my fic Like You Wanna Be Loved. It’s probably best if you read that one first :) Thank you so much to my amazing beta @darrenismydarcy​ and to @usurix who created an fantastic piece for this fic! Lastly, this starts in Kurt’s perspective but I promise this is a Blaine centric fic. Enjoy!!

AO3 Link

Prologue

Kurt lightly sways the leg he has crossed over the other under the table as he drums his fingers on the tabletop. The coffee shop is only moderately busy on this Saturday afternoon and Kurt is grateful for the relative quiet.

His nerves have been frayed all day. He could barely focus in class, to the point where his statistics professor had asked him to stay after class to make sure everything was okay. It was a mortifying conversation to have, even though it was sort of nice to know his professor cared that much about one of his students.

“You seemed distracted today.” His professor had said as he packed up his bag at the front of the slowly emptying room.

Kurt had sighed, “Yeah, sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

His professor had nodded, “College is a stressful time, for sure. Do you have someone you can talk to?”

Kurt had nodded quickly, “I do. Thanks. Really. I’m okay.” He assured.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure. Take care of yourself, Kurt.” His professor had said with a sympathetic smile.

Kurt muses, as he wraps a hand around his coffee, that his third year of college is a lot different than his first. In his first year at NYU, at just eighteen, he had been just a nameless face in a crowded lecture hall. He had been nothing more than a number to his professors. He can’t help but feel like the concern of a professor would have been better placed then than now. Now Kurt’s problems have less to do with school.

Though back then his biggest problems didn’t have a whole lot to do with school either…

The bell above the door to the coffee shop chimes and Kurt is pulled from his thoughts to turn in its direction. He smiles at the person coming through the door and lifts a hand in a wave.

-- -- --

“Annie, seriously, I will literally burn your iPad to ashes if you’re not ready to go in two minutes.” Blaine calls into the apartment, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to fend off his building headache.

“You know burning it will just mean you have to buy me another one. I need it for school. That’s a wasted threat.” Bethany snarks as she walks down the hallway toward her brother. 

Blaine sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Praying for patience?

“Fine, I will put a parental lock on it so all you can do is go on school approved apps.” He amends and the twelve-year-old in front of him narrows her eyes.

“You wouldn’t.” She says.

“I totally would. But since you’re here now, I won’t have to.” He says.

Bethany keeps her eyes narrowed, as if considering calling Blaine’s bluff, but she sighs as well, “You’re so over-dramatic sometimes.” She says with an eye roll that has become less affectionate and more sassy as she’s grown into an almost teenager, “I just have to put my shoes on.”

“Thank you. I was supposed to be at the coffee shop ten minutes ago.” Blaine reminds her as she does up the laces of her running shoes.

Bethany straightens and raises her eyebrows, “Well look at that, I’m ready to go.”

“Thank you.” Blaine says again, deciding not to comment on her attitude. He just needs to leave.

He holds the door open for her and the pair make their way down the hall toward the elevator.

-- -- --

Kurt feels his breath catch as the dark haired boy that has just entered the coffee shop makes his way toward his table. He sits a little straighter and tries to calm his reaction as the other boy gets closer.

“Hey.” Kurt smiles, “You must be Quintin.” He says.

The boy, Quintin, smiles a big toothy grin that reveals dimples in his cheeks, “Hey, yeah! Which must make you Kurt?” Quintin says with a questioning eyebrow quirk. Kurt nods and Quintin sighs, “Oh good. Sam said you were gorgeous but he didn’t say you were THIS gorgeous. I thought I might have gotten the wrong table.” 

Kurt feels his stomach flutter at the line, and even though it’s a slightly cheesy line...he’ll allow it.

“Well, Sam told me you were the hottest thing since sliced bread.” Kurt laughs.

Quintin scrunches his nose adorably, “Yeah, that’s actually exactly what he said to me about you, too.”

The pair laugh for a moment before they both look at each other with soft smiles, “Well, I’m just going to go grab myself a drink and then we can chat?” Quintin says, gesturing to the counter.

Kurt nods with a smile and Quintin leaves to join the line. Kurt watches him go before sighing. Quintin does seem adorable, and he’s definitely gorgeous, so maybe Kurt CAN do this. Everything in him has been telling him not to do this since Sam brought it up last week but now, in this moment, Kurt is willing to give it a shot.

What’s the worst that could happen?

-- -- --

Blaine sighs as he makes his way into the Lima Bean. He quickly heads behind the counter and catches up with Lauren who is making a latte at the machine, “I’m so sorry, Lauren. Bethany was...we had trouble…” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” He says again instead of excusing his tardiness.

Lauren eyes him as she pulls the lever to steam milk, “If you weren’t my best employee this would be a big deal.” She says, “Are you and Bethany going to be able to make this work?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

Blaine swallows thickly at her question. He knows she’s asking simply if he can make it to work on time in the future and he nods to let her know that yes they can, but he can’t help but think about the larger meaning of that question.

Can he and Bethany make all of this work anymore? 

As he does up his apron and takes his place at the register with a forced smile at his next customer, he’s not so sure they can.

Chapter One

Three Years Ago…

Reality is an interesting thing. No matter how much you may want to ignore it, it bites you in the ass eventually.

For Kurt and Blaine, that reality comes the July after they graduate high school.

Far sooner than either of them expected or wanted.

Kurt shakes his head as he looks at the other boy sitting across from him on his bed, “I’m sorry, what?”

Blaine swallows and looks down at the duvet, plucking at it with his fingers, “Bethany and I aren’t going to New York.” He whispers.

Kurt blinks in surprise, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tries to come up with something to say, “But...you said you were.” He finally lands on, but the sentence seems wholly inadequate.

Blaine sighs, “I know but...Bethany all but revolted when I suggested it.” He looks at Kurt with pleading eyes. Eyes asking him to understand, “I’ve already moved her once. I can’t ask her to do it again.”

“Yes, you can!” Kurt exclaims, “You’re the parent in this situation. You have the authority.”

“But I’m not, am I!” Blaine suddenly yells, “I’m not the parent. I’m her brother. I have no idea what I’m doing and I definitely don’t have the ‘authority’,” He says with sarcastic air quotes, “to make her move across the country just because I want to follow my boyfriend to college.”

Kurt pouts his lips, more than a little hurt by Blaine’s words but trying not to show it, “But you wouldn’t be following me. New York is your dream.”

Blaine shakes his head, “Dreams change. I have Bethany to think about now.”

Kurt presses his lips together and nods, shifting his gaze from Blaine to the floor. He can feel tears prickling behind his eyes and wills them to not come, “So, um,” He coughs, “What does this mean for us?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Blaine says and Kurt’s eyes snap back to the other boy’s face, “Well, okay, we’ll be living apart for a while.” He amends, “But we can make it work! Lots of couples do.”

Kurt feels everything inside himself sink. In the years to come, he’ll blame his youth and naivety on the fact that he’d felt a flare of hope when Blaine had started talking, but at the moment the abrupt change in emotion has left him dizzy. He’s not sure whether he wants to cry, scream, or both.

Blaine is looking at him hopefully, almost desperately, and Kurt hates those eyes in this moment. He hates that he loves them so much, he hates that looking into them reminds him of every good thing that has happened to him over the past ten months, and he hates that looking into them makes him want to agree with whatever arrangement Blaine may propose for the next four years of their lives at least.

...It’s that last thought that gives him pause, however. Something suddenly occurs to him that he’s known for months but had momentarily forgotten. This something had filled him with joy and contentment for months but has suddenly turned sour.

He narrows his eyes slightly at Blaine and says in an even tone, “You accepted NYU’s offer.”

Blaine’s eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t offer anything beyond opening and closing his mouth several times, no sound coming out. Despite his lack of answer, or maybe because of it, Kurt feels his anger rise.

“You applied. You got an acceptance letter. A week before mine. And you accepted. I was there when you did.” Kurt needlessly reminds him. Blaine swallows from the bed, “When did you decide you weren’t going?” He asks.

Blaine swallows thickly, before shrugging and letting out a humourless laugh, “It doesn’t matter.” He says.

Kurt’s eyes narrow further, “When did you decide you weren’t going?” He asks again.

“Before I accepted the offer.” Blaine whispers to the duvet.

“Then why did you accept it?” Kurt yells and Blaine flinches.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” He defends, “And then I was going to tell you but then you got your acceptance letter and you were so excited and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You lied to me!” Kurt yells, “You’ve been lying to me for months!”

“I…” Blaine starts but Kurt keeps going, not giving him a chance to respond.

“You’re always lying to me!” He exclaims and Blaine pulls up short, his eyes widening at the unexpected words.

“What…?” He asks.

Kurt starts to pace, “You have literally lied to me for most of the time we’ve known each other. How can I be sure that everything you’ve told me isn’t a lie?”

Blaine’s eyes pinch, “Kurt, I…”

“Get out.” Kurt whispers, crossing his arms over his chest, tightly, as if the move will hold him together.

“Kurt…” Blaine starts again but is once again interrupted.

“Get out!” Kurt screams, pointing at the door, his cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. He feels embarrassment over having believed anything this boy has ever said.

Blaine jumps slightly and rises from the bed. He puts his hands up in surrender and backs up, “Okay, I’ll leave. We can talk about this later.”

Kurt sniffs and suddenly realizes he’s crying. He wipes angrily at his nose - he doesn’t want to cry right now, or at least not until Blaine GETS. OUT.

“There won’t be a later.” He whispers.

“Don’t say that.” Blaine whispers back.

Kurt glares at the other boy, “I’ll say whatever I damn well please. And just to be clear, even though *I* have never lied to *you*, I'm not lying about this. Get out, Blaine. Enjoy your life with Bethany. We’re done.”

Blaine’s eyes are wide as he stares at Kurt, who diverts his eyes and stares at his bed. He can’t handle looking at Blaine anymore. He’s not sure if he’s more angry or sad at the moment, but what he does know is that he needs to figure that out without the other boy there.

He sees from the corner of his eye as Blaine backs slowly toward the door of his bedroom. He sees him hesitate at the door and Kurt is about to tell him again to get out, when Blaine’s moving again - out of the door and out of Kurt’s life.

-- -- --

Present Day…

Kurt had spent three days in his bed after that afternoon, refusing to talk to anyone about what had happened (or about anything at all). He’d finally opened up to  his father when Burt became so distraught by Kurt’s behaviour that Kurt feared another heart attack.

When he’d moved to New York that August, he promised his dad he would make an effort to live his life to the fullest, and while the first few months had been especially hard, Kurt had finally started to move on. He started making new friends, joining clubs at school, and even eventually going on a few dates. In his three years in New York, however, he has yet to enter a relationship with anyone and the slight pang in his chest as his date for the afternoon sits opposite him with a smile reminds him of why.

“So,” Quintin says, “tell me more about yourself? Sam says you used to be in show choir together?”

The pair spend the afternoon in companionable conversation. Kurt finds himself blushing slightly at some of the things Quintin says and when Quintin says, with what appears to be a regretful sigh, that he needs to get to a study group, Kurt finds himself wondering when they can see each other again.

“Are you free on Friday?” Kurt asks.

Quintin smiles, “What did you have in mind?”

-- -- --

Blaine had spent three days after leaving Kurt’s that afternoon warring within himself. Part of him wanted to call Kurt and beg him to work this out but the other part of him, the part that eventually won out, was angry and hurt by Kurt’s comments. 

The fact that Kurt had thrown Blaine’s omissions and falsehoods when they first met at him during their fight had knocked the wind out of Blaine. He never imagined Kurt would have harboured any anger or mistrust because of that. Blaine had thought Kurt had understood why he’d done what he’d done.

He also felt an almost overwhelming sadness and loss but he didn’t have what he considered the luxury of wallowing in it. He had Bethany to support and so, while on the inside he felt numb, on the outside he had to keep moving forward. He applied to Lima Community College and got a job at the Lima Bean. He did everything he could think of to keep himself distracted. 

He had hoped, somewhat in vain, that Bethany wouldn’t notice that Kurt stopped coming around, but even if she wasn’t the most intuitive nine-year-old in the world, it was stupid to think she wouldn’t.

“What’s going on with you and Kurt?” She’d asked one night a week after their fight.

Blaine shook his head while drying the pan from dinner, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Annie.” He said. He brought a hand to his chest to stop the physical ache he could feel at the mention of his name.

Bethany narrowed her eyes at him and pouted her lips but when Blaine gave her a shrug and looked away, she sighed and stalked out of the room. 

She didn’t bring up Kurt again after that and Blaine hadn’t known whether to feel grateful or more heartbroken because of it. He and his sister had started to gradually drift apart after that, and while Blaine tries to play it off as preteen hormones on his sister’s part, he knows deep down there’s more to it, and it’s definitely not one-sided.

“Blaine!” Blaine is jerked from his thoughts by the sharp yell of his boss. He shakes his head to clear it of thoughts of Kurt only to realize he’s spilled half a coffee pot on the floor.

“Oh my God, Lauren, I’m so sorry!” He says, already reaching for a rag to start cleaning up.

Lauren lets out an exasperated sigh and waves him off, “Go home, Blaine.” She says, not unkindly but with authority, “Just...go home and get your head together and come back tomorrow.” She says.

Blaine’s stomach drops at the dismissal. She may not be firing him (even he thinks she probably should at this point) but to be reminded of how much his life really isn’t working right now is like a punch to the gut.

“Okay.” He whispers, dejectedly, before taking off his apron. As he leaves, he turns back to see Lauren and Garret, the other employee working, setting about cleaning up Blaine’s mess.

If only Blaine could clean up his own mess…

Chapter Two

Blaine’s not really one for fate and destiny. Maybe he had been once upon a time, but as his twenty-first birthday approaches he feels like he no longer believes in all that. He’s been forced, over the years, to become too practical and level-headed.

He’s also not a big fan of coincidence. Which is why, as his car’s check engine light flares to life on his dashboard on his way home from work and something within the car begins to make a very unhealthy whirring noise, he wants to growl when he notices what business is just up ahead. Clearly SOMEONE out there believes in fate, destiny, and coincidence.

He sighs as he turns into the parking lot of Hummel Tires and Lube and prays, as he gets out of the car, that Burt Hummel decided to take today off. Blaine makes his way into the shop and curses under his breath when he notices the tall figure of Finn Hudson standing at the counter. He hadn’t thought about him. Maybe Finn won’t recognize him.

Any hopes of not being recognized are dashed when Finn’s eyes widen when they land on Blaine and he puts down the phone he’d been fiddling with. Blaine is the only customer in the room (why can’t there be more people in the room?), “Blaine?” Finn says in awe and confusion.

Blaine coughs and decides to take this like a man. Just because he hasn’t seen any of Kurt’s family in three years doesn’t mean this has to be awkward, “Hi Finn.” He says, approaching the desk.

Finn shakes his head, “This is such a small world!” Finn exclaims.

Blaine gives a tight smile and nods, “My car’s check eng…” He tries to explain why he’s here but clearly Finn isn’t done with their reunion.

“Does Burt know you were coming?” Blaine’s eyebrows furrow, why would Burt know he was coming?, “He’ll be so excited that you’re here! Burt!” Finn calls into the back of the shop and Blaine panics.

“Finn, seriously, I just want…” But he’s once again interrupted.

“How long has it been? Three years? What have you been up to? Burt keeps saying how he’s mad you haven’t called or come over.” Finn’s rapid fire speech is leaving Blaine a little dizzy.

Yes, it has been three years. What has he been up to? Trying to stay above water. Burt’s mad he hasn’t called? He finds that the most confusing thing of all. Why would his ex-boyfriend’s father care that he hasn’t called? 

Blaine suddenly feels like this was a bad idea. He should have kept driving to another mechanic in town and stayed as far away from here as possible. His day is going from bad to worse.

“Well if it isn’t the mysterious, vanishing Blaine.” Any hope of escape is gone when the voice of Burt Hummel fills the space. Blaine bites his lip and rubs his hands together, not sure, at all, what to say to this man. Burt looks at him silently for a few moments from the doorway to the back of the shop, which only makes Blaine squirm harder, before sighing and gesturing behind himself with his head, “Come on back to my office. You can tell me what’s wrong with your car.”

Blaine lets out a shaky breath and looks at Finn, who smiles at him, before following Burt back to a small office inside the garage. It’s cluttered with papers and Blaine stands awkwardly in the door, looking around at anything but Burt. He hears Burt sigh roughly and then the squeak of a chair as Burt sits down.

“So, what’s going on with your car?” Burt asks.

Blaine blinks. Even though that’s what Burt had said they were going to talk about, Blaine had assumed he was being taken back to the office to be interrogated about everything that happened three years ago and everything that has happened since.

“Ummm,” Blaine coughs, “My check engine light came on and something is making a strange whirring sound.” He says, finally looking over at the older man.

Burt nods, “I’ll get one of my guys to take a look at it.” He says.

Blaine nods, “Thanks.” He says and then a silence descends in the room.

Blaine wonders if it would be incredibly rude to just leave. He doesn’t know what to say to Burt. He’s pretty sure Kurt’s father hates him anyway.

Burt sighs again, “Kid, why do you look like I’m about to attack you?” 

Blaine jumps slightly and then chuckles to himself because he *is* acting like Burt is seconds away from attacking him, and while Blaine may not know a lot, he knows Burt Hummel is not really the attacking kind. Maybe if someone was hurting his son…

Blaine swallows at the thought. Blaine *had* hurt Burt’s son. He tenses slightly again.

Burt presses his lips together and considers Blaine with a calculating gaze, “How are things?” He asks.

Blaine nods, “Good.” He answers. Are they? Are they good?

Burt laughs, “Well, if that ain’t the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard.” Blaine shakes his head but Burt doesn’t really give him a chance to deny it. Would he deny it?, “I’ll get Tom to look at your car and let you know what’s going on. Are you going to need a ride home?”

Blaine nods.

“Well, just head up to Finn and he’ll get you set up with everything.” Burt finishes and Blaine nods again before turning to leave, “Hey, wait.” Burt says and Blaine stops, turning slightly to find that Burt has risen from his chair.

Blaine’s eyes are wide as he watches the bigger man walk towards him, “Come here.” Burt says, softly before pulling at Blaine’s shoulder and bringing him in for a hug.

Blaine tenses but it doesn’t take long before he’s sort of melting and wrapping his arms around the other man. It’s been a long time since he’s been hugged by Burt, but if he’s honest, it’s been a long time since he’s been hugged by anyone. Burt smells like grease and laundry detergent and Blaine is catapulted back to when hugs with the older Hummel were a regular occurence.

“Come to dinner at the house on Friday.” Burt says.

Blaine pulls back and coughs awkwardly, not making eye contact, “Oh um, thank you but…”

Burt leaves his hands on Blaine’s shoulder and ducks to meet his eyeline, “I wasn’t really asking. It has been far too long. Poor Carole has missed hanging out with Bethany. You’ve gotta come.”

Blaine swallows, and maybe it’s residual effects from the hug, but he nods, “Okay. Okay, we’ll come.”

-- -- --

“Can you grab the pie, please?” Blaine asks as he and Bethany get out of the car, which is newly fixed and running well, on Friday night.

Bethany rolls her eyes but does as she asks, “Must you roll your eyes all the time?” Blaine asks, just a little exasperated.

“Must you dress like a five-year-old all the time?” Bethany shoots back.

Blaine scowls and straightens his cardigan. He doesn’t comment further because he doesn’t want to fight now and he knows he’s being punchy only because he’s nervous and Bethany’s being grumpy because she’s twelve...and probably a little nervous as well.

Her eyes had widened when Blaine had told her about their plans for Friday night. He couldn’t tell if she was excited or just shocked, but she hadn’t put up any fight (a rarity whenever Blaine suggested a plan of any kind) and had actually been ready to go before him (another rarity).

They make their way up the path and Blaine knocks when they get to the door, “I’ll get it!” He hears from inside and moments later Carole Hummel-Hudson is standing before them dressed in black pants and a black and white top that are both flattering. Blaine doesn’t really get to see much more as he’s pulled into an enthusiastic hug by Kurt’s step-mother.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you two! Look how old you’ve gotten!” Carole exclaims, letting go of Blaine and giving him a once over like a protective mother, before moving to pull Bethany into a hug.

Bethany has just enough time to move the pie to one hand to keep it from getting squished between them and Blaine is sure when he sees Bethany’s face there is going to be a ‘what the fuck’ expression on it.

However, he’s proven wrong when Carole turns and Bethany’s face comes into view just over Carole’s shoulder. Bethany’s eyes are closed and she has a soft smile on her face as she hugs Carole back one handed. Turns out it wasn’t just Blaine who had missed being hugged by such warm, welcoming people.

Blaine smiles at the pair as they separate. Bethany’s smile drops as she scowls at Blaine before turning to Carole with a smile, “We...brought pie.” She says, offering the dessert in her hand.

Carole claps, “Excellent! Now, I hope you’re ready to help me in the kitchen, young lady. I’ve missed having competent hands in there. Finn and Burt are just too oafish to be helpful.”

Bethany giggles and Blaine looks at his sister with raised eyebrows. It’s not a sound he’s heard in a long while.

“Blaine, Burt and Finn are in the den. You’re welcome to hang out with them or come join us in the kitchen. From what I remember you aren’t bad with a knife and mixing bowl.” She winks at him.

Blaine feels completely disoriented. Why doesn’t Carole hate him? Why is she being so nice and acting like nothing has changed and like they haven’t not seen each other in three years? Blaine feels the knots in his chest that have been there all week loosening slightly and he brings a hand up to massage his breast bone in response.

“I’ll go say hi in the den and then maybe join you in the kitchen?” He says and Carole nods but Bethany sighs.

“We don’t need any help in the kitchen, Blaine.” She says before stalking around Carole and into the house.

Blaine stands awkwardly on the threshold as Carole looks at him and then at Bethany’s retreating back. He can tell there are questions behind her eyes but he’s thankful when she doesn’t voice any.

“Well, I’m sure once you start watching the game, you won’t want to join us anyway. But you are more than welcome to do either.” Carole says, ushering him inside.

-- -- --

Blaine enters the den to find Burt sitting on a chair and Finn sitting on the couch. If it weren’t for the fact that Finn’s features have matured slightly with age, Blaine would have been convinced he’d time travelled to the past.

Both men look up when Blaine enters and he waves awkwardly.

“I’m going to go help mom with the cooking!” Finn suddenly says, too loudly for the space they’re in and making Blaine jump and Burt sigh.

Burt and Blaine watch Finn leave, silently, before Blaine turns back to Burt who shakes his head, “He was supposed to do that tactfully. But who am I kidding, that boy doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body.”

Blaine chuckles lightly before making his way over to the spot Finn vacated and sitting on the edge of the couch. He knows Burt would want to talk to him but he’d honestly hoped for a little bit of a time beforehand. Oh, hell, who is he kidding, he’d been hoping to avoid this conversation completely.

“So,” Burt starts, turning the game - UCLA versus Cincinnati - on mute and turning to Blaine, who looks back at him with a slightly worried expression, “Why haven’t I heard from you in three years?”

Blaine sucks in a breath. He knew this probably wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but apparently Burt wasn’t pulling any punches or starting slow. Blaine shifts, “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Burt quirks an eyebrow, “What in the world would give you that idea?”

Blaine quirks his own eyebrow, “Because I hurt him.” He says simply.

Burt scoffs, “From what I heard, Kurt did more of the hurting.” Blaine sucks in a breath. He hasn’t heard Kurt’s name outside his own head in almost three years and he’s surprised by the pang of hurt that blooms in his chest at the word.

But then Burt’s words register and he looks up, “What?” He asks, breathlessly.

“When I finally got the story out of Kurt about why you two broke up, I was mad.” Burt says and Blaine nods, “At *him*.” Burt emphasizes and Blaine’s eyes snap to the older man in surprise. Burt shakes his head, “Look, should you have lied about going to New York? Probably not. But I also know how stubborn and strong-headed my son is. He wouldn’t have accepted any other answer. And you were honest with him in the end. His not being able to accept that isn’t your fault.”

Blaine feels tears prick at his eyes. He wasn’t prepared for this and he certainly wasn’t prepared for it ten minutes after entering the house. He takes a deep breath and blinks at the carpet as he tries to process Burt’s words.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.” Burt continues as if Blaine’s participation in the conversation really isn’t needed. Blaine looks back up at him. Of course Burt is mad at him, “But not for what you think I’m mad at you for.” Blaine’s brow furrows, “Part of the deal was that you and Bethany would check in and come to dinners and after what happened you just...stopped. Everything. All contact. That’s not fair, Blaine. Do you know how worried I’ve been about the two of you?”

Blaine breathes in sharply, feeling much like he did during his and Burt’s hug earlier in the week and Carole’s inspection at the door a few minutes ago. He’s gone so long without the nurturing care or guidance of a parental figure that he feels sort of shaky in the face of it.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out, not really knowing what else to say.

Burt observes him for a moment with pursed lips before nodding, “Apology accepted. As long as from now on you keep in touch and come to dinners again.” Blaine nods before Burt is even finished the sentence and Burt nods again, “All right. Now, I’ve got more to say but I think that’s enough for tonight. Whatta you say we turn on the game and enjoy the rest of our evening?”

Chapter Three

“Hey Kurt! Dinner tonight?” Rachel enthuses the next Friday, as soon as Kurt picks up his phone.

He chuckles at her overexuberance, “Sure. Just tell me the time and place. But not that Thai place again. I’m still having nightmares from that night.”

Rachel sighs and he’s sure she’s remembering the night they ate at Lemon Grass and then proceeded to throw up until dawn.

“Never again.” She agrees.

Kurt’s phone beeps in his hand and he pulls it away from his face to see a call from Quintin coming in. He smiles and brings his phone to his ear again, “Hey Rach, Quintin’s calling. Just text me the information.”

“Oooooh Quintin! That’s been going on for…”

“I gotta go!” Kurt interrupts and he can hear Rachel giggle as he presses the button to end the call with his best friend and connect Quintin’s call, “Hey!” He says.

“Hey, I was just calling to see if you wanted to do dinner tonight.” Quintin asks in his smooth tenor voice.

Kurt pouts, “I actually just agreed to have dinner with Rachel tonight.” He says, “But you could come!” 

Quintin chuckles and Kurt feels his stomach flip pleasantly at the sound, “Kurt, it’s fine. Enjoy your dinner with Rachel. Tomorrow?”

Things with Quintin have been going really well. They’ve been seeing each other for two weeks and Kurt has been enjoying getting to know the other man.

“Yeah. Tomorrow sounds great.” He says around a smile.

His phone beeps in his hand again and he pulls it back with a shocked expression at his own seeming popularity to see Finn’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Quintin, my brother’s calling and I always like to pick up in case it’s something to do with my dad.” Kurt explains.

“Totally get it.” Quintin says, easily, “I’ll text you about tomorrow.” And then he’s gone, allowing Finn’s call to connect. 

Kurt smiles as he accepts his stepbrother’s call, thinking how sweet Quintin is, “Hey Finn.” He says.

“Hey Kurt! What’s up, bro?” Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately at Finn’s words. He both loves and finds it mildly baffling how close they’ve gotten over the years considering how their relationship had started.

“Nothing. Just working on a paper. What’s up?” Kurt asks and while his question is meant to find out the purpose behind Finn’s call, it causes the other man to begin a description of his day. It’s at this point Kurt realizes that Finn doesn’t HAVE a purpose for calling beyond sharing random facts about his day.

“There was a guy who came into the shop with his bike and asked us to fix it. Like his pedal bike, not a motorcycle. And then at lunch, Frank ate my tuna sandwich so I had to go out and get another one. Can you believe that?” Kurt hums but he knows by now it’s more a rhetorical question, “And then I had to help clean Mom and Burt’s house for dinner tonight just because Blaine and Bethany are coming. But I mean why is that my…” He trails off but Kurt’s not sure if he really does trail off or is still speaking and Kurt can’t hear him over the white noise in his ears.

Blaine and Bethany? Blaine and Bethany having dinner with his family? How long has this been happening? Why has no one told Kurt until now? 

Kurt feels his chest tighten and his next breath stutters out of him, “Shit. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.” Finn moans.

“How long have they been going to dinners?” Kurt asks when he finds his voice. He knows from his father that Blaine and Bethany stopped coming to dinner after he and Kurt broke up but he has no idea when they started again. 

His father mentioning that fact had been the only time in the three years since the break up that Kurt had heard Blaine’s name, until now. The truth is, he has been actively avoiding hearing it.

He hasn’t admitted it to anyone, but he had almost immediately regretted breaking up with Blaine. Part of the reason he’d been so despondent the days following was because he was trying to force himself not to drive over to Blaine’s and try and fix everything. But he had messed things up too terribly, Blaine was too angry, so he forced himself to stay put. He’d told everyone he didn’t want to hear about Blaine anymore and if they thought that was because he was angry (as opposed to ashamed) then that was probably better.

“Ummm just last week. Listen, Kurt, I don’t think I was supposed to say anything. I’m...sorry.” Finn mumbles, sadly, and while Kurt would love to be mad at his brother, he can’t find it in himself to be mad at the well-meaning, though oblivious, man.

“I gotta go, Finn.” He says.

“Don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not.” At you. He adds to himself, “Look, I really do have to go. We’ll talk later.”

He hangs up when Finn says goodbye and stares at his phone for a few silent moments. Who is he actually mad at? His father? Blaine? Both? Himself?

He shakes his head violently to clear that thought from his brain and sighs down at his phone. He wants nothing more than to call his dad and ask for more information but he really needs to get this paper done. He also wants to think about what he wants to say.

With another heavy sigh, he lays his phone on the desk next to his computer and tries to focus back on the paper. He gives up after the fifth time he types Blaine’s name into his paper and decides he’ll have to get back to it later.

-- -- --

Blaine smiles as he watches Bethany finish getting ready to head over to Burt and Carole’s. Something has been different about his little sister over the last week. It’s not a huge change but she’s seemed...happier. She scowls at Blaine less and they’ve fought slightly less than usual. She even smiled at him the other night when he suggested they get macaroni and cheese for dinner.

“Ready to go?” Bethany asks, putting the finishing touches on her ponytail.

Blaine nods, “I am.” He says, gesturing out the door with an arm for her to go first. She snorts and rolls her eyes as she goes, and while he hates when she rolls her eyes, for the first time in a long time her eye roll felt more affectionate than simply annoyed.

Progress.

When they get to Burt and Carole’s, Bethany immediately heads off into the kitchen where Carole and Finn are baking cookies. Blaine follows Burt into the living room and they sit down on the couch.

“So how’s that Grand Am coming?” Blaine asks, conversationally. He’s spoken to Burt a handful of times on the phone over the past week.

Burt purses his lips as he considers him and Blaine can’t help but feel like he’s being scrutinized. He’s not sure why though. He hasn’t done anything wrong from what he can remember, especially not where Burt is concerned.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you something and I want an honest answer. Understand?” Burt asks.

Blaine nods with big eyes, what could Burt possibly want to know?

“How are things?” The older man asks.

Blaine lets out a surprised laugh, “Good.” He answers quickly, baffled that that was the question.

Burt narrows his eyes, “I told you to be honest.”

Blaine’s eyes widen further before he shakes his head in confusion. He wasn’t lying. Things are good. Well, things are...fine. Okay, things aren’t great….

...Had he lied?

Burt sighs and before Blaine can answer or even figure out what he’s thinking, Burt speaks again, “Look, Blaine, I admit I haven’t seen you in three years but I know what ‘not alright’ looks like and you are the definition of ‘not alright.’”

Blaine blinks at the older man and the room is silent before Blaine feels tears burning at the back of his eyes. He’s shocked to realize he’s close to crying and yet he has to blink forcefully to keep the tears at bay.

Burt sighs again, “What’s going on, bud? I know it’s been a while but I like to feel like I used to be able to help you when you needed it.”

Blaine nods, “You did.” He assures.

Burt nods as well, “Then let me help you *now*.”

Blaine takes a deep breath and lets it out as more tears threaten, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He whispers hoarsely and his fight against his tears is lost as a few traitorous drops fall. He quickly wipes them away with his fingers but more are produced in their absence, “For the last three years, Bethany just seems to...hate me more than she loves me. It’s like there’s this distance between us that was never there before and I don’t know how to fix it.” Now that he’s started, he doesn’t know how to stop, “And I just feel like nothing is going my way - I’m a giant disappointment at work, I’m having to drop more classes than I’m taking at college, and I always feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions and I don’t know where to look first.” He runs a shaky hand over his mouth and shakes his head, “I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Blaine takes a shaky breath after his...there’s no other way to put it, but verbal diarrhea. The thought makes him chuckle and then he chuckles harder when Burt’s eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“I just...spewed that all out, didn’t I?” Blaine laughs, wiping a stray tear that escapes.

Burt purses his lips, “You know, kid, no one knows what they’re doing.”

Blaine sighs as his laughter subsides, “Yeah, but does everyone feel like a failure ninety percent of the time?”

Burt shrugs, “Maybe not ninety?” He says, “But I can’t tell you how many times raising Kurt I would think ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ And I wasn’t twenty-one trying to raise a twelve-year-old on my own.”

Blaine nods and takes a deep breath, looking down at the floor and running his hands over his thighs. He hears Burt sigh, “I know this isn’t easy, Blaine, but you’re not alone. You’ve got people you can lean on if you want to.”

Blaine nods again and wipes at his eyes as more tears fall, “I’ve felt so alone these last three years.”

Burt sighs and nods, bringing a hand up to lay on Blaine’s shoulder and squeezing, “You’re not alone. And you weren’t alone then. We were always a phone call away.”

Blaine falls into the hug like he can’t keep himself up anymore. Burt welcomes him with open arms and they are quiet as they embrace, Burt squeezing Blaine’s shoulder with a firm and solid grip.

For the first time in three years, Blaine doesn’t feel so alone.

-- -- --

“Hummel Tires and Lube?” Kurt smiles instantly at his father’s voice and the phrase he grew up listening to every time he called the shop.

“Hey Dad.” Kurt says.

“Kurt!” Kurt’s sure the warmth that enters Burt’s voice isn’t his imagination and it makes him smile even more despite the reason for his call, “How’s it going, bud?”

Kurt nods, “Good. Good.”

“Bought your ticket to come home yet?” Burt asks.

Kurt rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yes Dad. I’ve had my flight booked for almost a month.”

“Good.” Burt says, simply.

Kurt sighs, “Look, Dad, I called because I wanted to ask you about something.”

Burt is quiet on the phone and then Kurt hears him sigh, “Finn told you, didn’t he? About Blaine and Bethany.”

Kurt’s not surprised his father put two and two together so quickly, “Yeah.” He answers.

Burt sighs again and Kurt can picture him taking his hat off and rubbing his forehead, “I don’t know what you want me to say about it, Kurt.”

“How about the fact that you didn’t tell me.”

“For one, it’s only happened twice so it’s not like I’ve been keeping it a secret for months, and two, I’m under no obligation to tell you anything about it.” Burt responds.

Kurt guffaws, “You don’t think I should have a say in my own father inviting my ex-boyfriend over to dinner?”

“No, Kurt, I don’t. You don’t have to be happy about it, but it’s happening.” 

Kurt blinks, “So you’re picking him over me?”

“No!” Burt exclaims, but he seems angry as opposed to shocked. He sighs again, “Look, you know how I feel about your breakup with Blaine but I respect that it’s your life and you’re allowed to make the decisions you do.” Kurt feels a pang in his chest and has to bring a hand up to massage it, “But I never said I would stop making sure Blaine was okay.”

Kurt presses his lips together, “Okay.” He whispers finally.

“Okay.” Burt says, “Now, tell me more about this Quintin.”

Chapter Four

As March turns to April, Blaine and Bethany continue to spend every Friday evening at the Hummel-Hudson house. Blaine feels no more secure in his life, but he finds that for one night a week, he can breathe a little easier.

He finds it strange that no one ever brings up Kurt. It’s like the man doesn’t even exist outside the pictures around the house (which are enough to make Blaine’s heart ache a little), and while Blaine appreciates it, in a way, he also gets the feeling they’re avoiding talking about Kurt for his benefit.

He wants to tell them not to do that, that he’s a grown up with grown up responsibilities and that he can handle the mention of his ex boyfriend's name, except...the words never leave his lips. He’s sort of grateful he doesn’t have to deal with the “Kurt” of it all. That he can enjoy these dinners and the comfort they bring, without acknowledging the giant (but beautiful) blue-eyed elephant in the room.

He can tell that Bethany is benefiting from their time at the Hummel-Hudsons as well. She smiles more readily and will voluntarily spend time with Blaine now and again. It’s not like it was before, but it’s better than it’s been.

One night after Friday dinner, Bethany follows Carole into the kitchen and sits at the kitchen island while the older woman cleans up. Blaine, Finn, and Burt are busy watching football (Bethany once asked if football was the only channel the Hummel-Hudson house got).

“Hey Carole?” Bethany asks as Carole begins to load dishes into the dishwasher. Carole hums and looks up with a smile before continuing her clean up, “Have you ever been to New York City?”

Carole looks up with a confused smile, “I have. A few times. Why do you ask?”

Bethany shrugs, pulling her thin long sleeve shirt sleeves over her hands, “Just curious. What’s it like?”

Carole sighs, thoughtfully, as she puts in the last plate, closes the dishwasher and grabs the kitchen towel. She holds it between her hands as she leans on her elbows on the other side of the island, “It’s....busy.” She says, “But it’s also really exciting. There are always people moving and things going on. Your eyes never get bored.”

Bethany nods, “Cool.” She says, simply.

Carole narrows her eyes and pouts her lips, “Are you sure there isn’t another reason you’re asking?”

Bethany shakes her head and smiles, “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

Carole smiles before pushing up and turning to the sink, “Well, maybe one day you can make your way there, if you want to. It’s definitely something everyone should experience at least one.”

Bethany nods, “Yeah. One day.” She whispers, thoughtfully rubbing her finger on the marble countertop, “Ummm, do you think it would be cool if I...slept over at some point?”

Bethany hadn’t intended to ask, didn’t know if she’d be welcome, but she has been dying to ask since she and Blaine began coming to dinners again.

Carole turns around with wide eyes before her face breaks into a large smile and Bethany releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Of course, sweetheart!” Carole enthuses.

“Cool.” Bethany says with a wide smile of her own.

-- -- --

It’s a few weeks later that Blaine pulls up in front of the Hummel-Hudson home to pick up Bethany after she had spent the night after dinner. Carole had told him she would be happy to drive Bethany home but Blaine had assured her he was more than happy to pick his sister up.

He had enjoyed the night to himself more than he thought he would. He’d poured a glass of wine and spent the night watching neglected PVR shows. It may not have been the most exciting night but it had definitely felt nice, and needed.

He makes his way up the driveway and knocks on the door. He doesn’t have to wait long for it to open, but instead of Carole like he expected, it’s Bethany on the other side.

“Carole had to go to work.” Bethany explains as she opens the door more for Blaine to enter, “She left about a half hour ago. I’ll go grab my stuff.”

Blaine nods as he makes his way inside and closes the door behind him. He follows Bethany into the living room and she makes her way to the couch, shoving a sweater into her overnight bag. She sighs and looks up at the ceiling, as if trying to mentally make sure she has everything.

Her eyes light up a moment later, “Oh! I forgot my phone charger upstairs. Be right back!” She calls, already running out of the room and up the stairs.

Blaine sighs as he looks around, rocking on his heels as he waits. He hears a noise but it’s not Bethany coming back downstairs, it’s the front door opening.

He turns, expecting to see Burt or Finn, but his eyes widen as Kurt walks through the door, pulling a suitcase behind him and talking fast, “Hey! My flight got changed from tonight to this afternoon, so here I am! Surprise!”

Blaine is frozen to the spot as Kurt drops his bags and kicks his shoes off, obviously not realizing that Blaine is the only person he’s speaking to.

Blaine’s breath catches at the sight of Kurt. He’s shocked sure, but he also notices how much Kurt has changed in the three years since he’s seen him. While Kurt is distracted, Blaine has the chance to notice how much broader Kurt’s shoulders are, how much more slim his waist is, and how much more...manly he appears. Of course Kurt was always ‘manly’ but when Blaine had known him, he was still part boy. Any part of Kurt that was boyish seems to have disappeared.

Blaine swallows thickly just as Kurt’s eyes make a sweep of the room. Blaine notices how Kurt’s face goes from open and happy to shocked as his eyes (those beautiful blue eyes that haven’t changed in three years) settle on Blaine. 

The pair stare at each other for a long moment. Blaine’s not sure if either of them are going to break the silence. Blaine’s not sure it’s his place to break the silence, but at the same time he’s honestly not sure how Kurt is going to react.

-- -- --

Those eyes. Those eyes that Kurt has tried not to think about for three years. Those eyes that first made him start to fall in love with Blaine before he even knew Blaine’s name, or even that what he was feeling was the beginnings of love. Those eyes are staring at him right now, from his father’s living room, and it feels like a punch to Kurt’s gut.

-- -- --

Blaine is sure his swallow is audible in the too quiet room. He feels his palms start to sweat as he and Kurt continue to stare at each other. Should he just...leave? He figures that would make things really awkward. Should he say something? But wouldn’t that be even more awkward than they are now? He could just leave and not come back.

The stairs creek to his right and Blaine realizes he had completely forgotten Bethany was here. He’d had this momentary plan to just flee and he would have left his little sister behind. Great parenting, Blaine.

Blaine doesn’t want to take his eyes off Kurt but he turns to find Bethany frozen on the bottom stair, eyes wide as she looks back and forth between Blaine and Kurt.

It’s a strange tableau and Blaine is transported back to three years ago when this would not have been a weird scenario. When Bethany would have run and jumped into Kurt’s arms and he would have laughed and hugged her back as he looked adoringly at Blaine.

The threesome are frozen for another long moment before Bethany breaks the awkward stillness. She shouts, ‘Kurt!’ and is across the hall and throwing her arms around the other man before Blaine’s eyes can fully focus on the movement.

He looks over to find Kurt looking momentarily shocked (he hasn’t really looked anything other than shocked since his eyes met Blaine’s) but his face is soon melting into a smile as he hugs the girl back, “Hi Annie.” He whispers and Blaine feels a shiver travel through him at the voice. That voice.

Blaine has just a moment to register the fact that Kurt had called Bethany ‘Annie’ - the only other person other than Blaine to have ever done that - before Bethany is pulling away and bouncing on her toes like the nine-year-old she was the last time Kurt saw her, “I’ve missed you!” She enthuses.

Kurt’s eyes flick over Bethany’s shoulder to Blaine’s before moving back to look down at Bethany, “I...missed you too.”

Blaine’s pretty sure he hadn’t imagined the hesitation in Kurt’s sentence. Was Kurt lying? He’s simultaneously grateful that Kurt would protect Bethany from the truth that he probably hadn’t thought much about her in three years, and indignant on her behalf that he probably *hadn’t* thought about her in three years.

“We should probably head home, Annie.” Blaine says, the first thing he’s said since Kurt entered the house, and he mentally pulls up short. That hadn’t been what he meant to say. He’s not sure WHAT exactly he’d meant to say, but suggesting that they leave hadn’t been it.

He’d thought a lot about what he would do if he ever saw Kurt again, thought about it even more since reconnecting with Burt and Carole in fact, but he’s now convinced he hadn’t actually thought it would happen. So now, when faced with the real Kurt in front of him, his only reaction is to leave.

Bethany turns to him with a pout. She turns back to Kurt, whose face is unreadable (Blaine wishes he could read it), and then back to Blaine, “But…” She starts, but Blaine shakes his head.

“We gotta go.” He says.

Bethany’s pouts turns into a scowl, before she’s huffing in that all too familiar way. She moves swiftly to grab her bag and then stalks out of the house without a word. Blaine sighs. So much for progress.

He turns back to Kurt who is looking at him, again with an unreadable expression, “I guess I’ll....bye.”

Blaine isn’t above saying he fled, leaving Kurt standing in the same position he’d been in for most of their interaction. He closes the front door behind him and walks swiftly to the car. Bethany is sitting in the front seat with her arms crossed and a deeper scowl on her face.

Blaine gets into the driver’s seat, does up his seatbelt, checks to make sure Bethany’s is done up and then goes through the motions of driving home. 

It’s not until he’s in his parking spot at their apartment and Bethany has huffed her way out of the car that he realizes he doesn’t remember anything about their journey home and that his hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

Chapter Five

Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose after handing off a caramel mocha latte to the blonde lady in front of him. It’s been a long day, a long week, hell, a long few years. 

After leaving (running from) the Hummel-Hudson house six days ago, Blaine has been avoiding - Burt, Carole, Finn, anyone associated with the Hummel-Hudsons. It’s not very mature of him, he knows, but he can’t seem to make himself answer the phone when Burt calls or even answer Bethany honestly when she’d asked about it.

“So Kurt’s back.” She’d said, nonchalantly, during breakfast the morning after they’d run into Kurt.

Blaine had let his fork drop on his plate with a loud clang. Bethany hadn’t spoken to him the night before, stalking to her room and slamming the door, “Can we not talk about this, Bethany?” He asked.

Bethany had pouted thoughtfully at him, “Why did we leave?”

“Because we needed to go.” Blaine answered shortly, “And Kurt didn’t need us there after just getting home.” At least that part hadn’t been a lie.

Bethany’s eyes had narrowed, “I wanted to see him.”

Blaine had closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again with a sigh, “Bethany, yesterday wasn’t the day for a reunion.”

“Then when can we spend time with Kurt?” Bethany had challenged.

Blaine squeezed his hand into a fist, “I don’t know.” Probably never, he’d thought.

Bethany all but growled, “You are such a loser!” She’d exploded.

Blaine’s eyes widened, “You do not speak to me that way.” 

Blaine rolled her eyes, “Save it, Blaine.” And with that, she’d pushed up from her chair and left the room.

Blaine can count on one hand the number of words he and Bethany have shared over the last five days. He’d gone from thinking everything was getting better to it never being worse, and all he can think is that he has Kurt to thank for that.

He pulls the handle on the steamer harder than necessary at the thought and is scowling at it when he hears a throat clear from behind him. He turns, trying to school his features into something more customer service like, to find Kurt standing at the register. His arms are crossed and he’s got a sassy eyebrow quirked as he regards Blaine.

Blaine is shocked out of his momentary anger and his eyes flit around the room - is he searching for an exit?

“Can we talk?” Kurt asks, shortly. He seems angry. Why is *Kurt* angry? From Blaine’s perspective he has no right to be.

“I’m working.” Blaine answers, gesturing around the coffee shop with only two customers at the moment.

Kurt sighs, “When do you have your next break?”

Technically Blaine’s overdue for a break but the prospect of talking to Kurt makes his heart pound. They’re quiet for another moment until Kurt quirks another eyebrow and Blaine huffs, “Fine. I can take a break in ten minutes.”

Kurt nods and turns to walk to a table without another word. Blaine watches him go and, even though he’s angry, he can’t help but notice how good Kurt’s ass looks in his pants today.

-- -- --

“So, what’s up?” Blaine asks, as he sits heavily in the chair opposite Kurt fifteen minutes later. He’s not going to admit he stalled for an extra five minutes.

Kurt is sitting with one leg crossed over the other and his arms crossed tightly over his chest, “Why are you ignoring my dad?”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up. Out of all the things Kurt could have said, that wasn’t what Blaine had been expecting, “Ummmm…”

“He says you haven’t answered his calls all week. By Wednesday he was convinced you were dead.” Kurt rolls his eyes at this but then looks pointedly back at Blaine.

“I’ve been busy.” Blaine defends.

Kurt rolls his eyes again, “I just came to make sure you come to dinner tonight.”

“I…” Blaine starts but is interrupted.

“It would make Dad happy.” Kurt continues.

Blaine swallows and wrings his hands together, “Are we...going to be okay to be around each other?”

Kurt stares at him for a moment before sighing and looking away, “We’re adults, I think we can handle it.” He says, “And besides, I’m only home for a few weeks.”

Blaine nods and looks down at the floor, suddenly aware of how strange this conversation is. They’re being civil enough but it’s not *them*. There is a distance that, even before they really knew each other, wasn’t ever there. Blaine can’t decide if that distance is from three years apart, Blaine’s anger, or Kurt’s...Blaine’s not sure what Kurt is feeling. That in and of itself is strange. He had always felt like he could always tell what Kurt was feeling.

Kurt widens his eyes and shakes his head expectantly, “So? Are you guys going to come to dinner?”

Blaine swallows and nods, “Yeah, yeah we’ll come.”

Kurt nods, uncrosses his legs and rubs his hands down his thighs, “Good. I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

And then he’s up and gone. Blaine watches him go and thinks that agreeing may have not been a good idea.

-- -- --

By the time Kurt makes it to his car and closes the driver’s side door, he can’t keep a handle on his shaky hands anymore. It had felt like a Herculean task to keep them from shaking all the way through his conversation with Blaine. He’d had to leave as soon as possible to keep Blaine from noticing.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, massaging the centre of his chest at the pain he feels there. He can do this. He can be around his ex-boyfriend one night a week while he’s home. That should be easy. Kurt’s moved on. He’s got Quintin. Nice, sweet, complimentary, Quintin. Kurt blinks his eyes open and looks at the clock, realizing just now he’d told Quintin he’d text when he got to Lima and hadn’t.

He picks up his phone with less shaky fingers and thumbs open his messenger app. He gives a small smile at the last text Quintin had sent;

Quintin

Say hi to your dad! I know we’ve never met but...it’s nice to be nice!

Quintin is nice. Quintin is lovely. Quintin is who Kurt is with now. He hasn’t been with Blaine for three years, and beyond the potential awkwardness of ‘you were the first boy to see me naked and touch my body’, there shouldn’t be anything strange between them.

He’s sure Blaine’s moved on too.

-- -- -- 

Blaine gives a shaky laugh at the joke Finn just told. It’s after dinner and the entire Hummel-Hudson family, along with Bethany and Blaine,  are sitting in Burt and Carole’s living room talking. 

Blaine is surprised by how well the evening has gone. He attributes a lot of that to the fact that he and Kurt have stayed pretty far away from each other all night. Blaine hasn’t even really made eye contact with the other man outside of quick glances. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Blaine figures it’s definitely less awkward than what the alternative would be.

He could tell Kurt’s family hadn’t known how to act at first. Burt, Carole, and Finn had looked back and forth between Kurt and Blaine when he and Bethany had first arrived at the house, as if they were ticking time bombs, before Bethany had shot forward and hugged Kurt much like she had the afternoon Kurt got home. She hasn’t really left his side all night and Blaine’s not sure how to feel about that.

He chances another glance at Kurt to find the other man looking back. They stare at each other for a few beats before Kurt is pulled into a conversation with Finn, but as Blaine keeps watching, Kurt keeps flicking his eyes in Blaine’s direction.

Blaine pouts thoughtfully, trying to figure out what he’s feeling. Anger, definitely. He’s been angry for three years. Angry since he walked out of Kurt’s bedroom. He knows it’s not productive to be angry, and has spent three years trying to hide his anger (or let it go), but...he’s angry. And now, with Kurt sitting in front of him, he wants nothing more than to *just* be angry. Anger is a simpler emotion. But Blaine also finds himself feeling longing, heartache, and if his pulse has anything to say about it, lust.

God, what he wouldn’t give to just be angry.

“So, when do we get to meet Quintin?” Blaine is shaken from his thoughts by Finn’s voice and he turns to find Kurt looking at Finn with wide eyes - silently screaming at him.

The whole room goes silent, or at least it does to Blaine’s ears. Who’s Quintin?

“Who’s Quintin?” Bethany asks for him and Blaine both wants to know and doesn’t want to know in equal measure.

Kurt coughs, awkwardly, and his eyes flick to Blaine before he smiles at Bethany, “Just...a guy.”

Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. It’s obvious Quintin is someone Kurt is seeing. Have they been dating long? Is it serious? Blaine feels nauseous.

He tries to shake himself out of it, like he’s been doing for three years with his anger (oh and hey look at that, he’s angry about this too), and when Kurt looks over at him with an unsure expression, Blaine tries to school his features into something neutral.

The way Kurt bites his lip makes Blaine think he wasn’t entirely successful.

“We should get going.” Blaine blurts suddenly. He’s got to stop fleeing, but today isn’t the day to quit cold turkey.

Bethany pouts and glares at him but doesn’t protest as she gets up to put her shoes on. She hugs everyone in the room, thanks Burt and Carole, and then walks out of the front door. Blaine hugs Carole and Burt, gives a small wave to Finn who looks a little like someone kicked his dog, and then tries to give a smile to Kurt. It’s more a wobbly grimace than anything else and he leaves without another word.

He sits next to Bethany in the car and looks over at her. She’s staring out the window, despondently, and Blaine sighs before turning the key in the ignition. 

His brow furrows when nothing happens. He resets the key and tries to start the engine again, only to get the same result - nothing.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bethany asks.

Blaine sighs, “I don’t...know.” He mumbles as he tries the key again.

“I don’t think turning the key over and over again is going to solve the problem.” Bethany snarks and Blaine spares her an exasperated look before turning the key again, praying that this time the result will be different.

It’s not and he slumps forward to lay his head on the steering wheel. Of course. Of course this would happen now.

“I’ll be right back.” He says before getting out of the car and trudging back up the path to the front door.

He knocks and wrings his hands together while he waits. When Finn opens the door with a confused and then surprised expression, lit by the soft glow of light from the hallway, Blaine almost sighs in relief. Out of all the options to answer the door, this is the best one possible.

“My car won’t start.” He tells Finn without ceremony.

Finn pouts, “That’s not good.” He needlessly provides.

Blaine nods anyway, “Can you come take a look at it?”

Finn follows Blaine outside and pops the hood of the car. He pokes around for a moment, Blaine not really knowing what he’s looking for or if anything major is really wrong, before straightening with a sigh.

“It’s the starter.” Finn supplies and at Blaine’s confused shrug he clarifies, “It’s a part that starts the engine so it can run on its own without you having to do anything.”

Blaine nods with pseudo-understanding, “That sounds...important.”

Finn chuckles, “Well, your car isn’t getting home tonight, that’s for sure.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “Okay ummm, would you be able to drive us home?”

Finn frowns, “I’ve had too much to drink. Sorry. But maybe Burt or Carole?”

Blaine nods and follows Finn into the house after telling Bethany he’d be right back.

“Hey! Blaine’s starter is shot.” Finn calls through the house as they make their way to the dining room where everyone is tidying up.

Burt looks up from the plates he’s putting away with pursed lips, “It looked fine the other week.”

Finn shrugs, “Well it’s not fine now. Can one of you drive Blaine and Bethany home? Their car isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

Blaine notices Kurt sending him furtive glances as he arranges silverware, trying to pretend like he’s not paying attention to the conversation.

Burt clicks his tongue, “I’m afraid we both drank a little too much.” He says apologetically, “But…” He lets the word trail off as he turns to look at Kurt who is staring pointedly at a fork in his hand, “Kurt, you didn’t have anything to drink tonight.”

Kurt looks up with a smile that’s more a grimace, “No. I did not.”

Burt nods, “Then could you drive Blaine and Bethany home? I’ll get your car to the shop tomorrow, Blaine.”

Blaine nods to say he heard Burt but is too busy watching Kurt to make any real effort. Kurt is fidgeting with the silverware with fluttering hands and he hasn’t looked at Blaine.

“I would really appreciate the ride home.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt nods, looking up at Blaine with the same awkward smile as before, “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

-- -- --

Bethany talks the entire way home, for which Blaine is eternally grateful. She rambles on about school and her friends and soccer, and Blaine and Kurt don’t have to speak at all (to her or each other). They do keep glancing sideways at one another and Blaine has a fleeting thought that if this keeps up, his eyes are going to permanently shift sideways. The thought makes him chuckle out of the blue and Kurt sends him a bemused look while Bethany keeps talking. 

When they pull up in front of Blaine and Bethany’s apartment, Blaine silently sighs - relieved. Until…

“Hey Kurt! You should come up and see my new trophies!” Bethany exclaims from the back seat.

Blaine holds his breath while he looks at Bethany and then back at Kurt. He watches as Kurt looks quickly at him before smiling at Bethany and Blaine’s not sure if he wants Kurt to accept or decline.

“Umm, sure, Bethany. If that’s alright?” He directs the question at Blaine, who nods reflexively.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Blaine whispers.

Blaine isn’t sure why he feels like his skin is on fire as Kurt follows them into the building and into the elevator. They settle next to each other and Blaine is acutely aware of Kurt’s body heat next to him. He fidgets and hopes Kurt doesn’t notice but he knows Bethany notices as she keeps shooting him weird looks.

The trio is silent as they make their way into the apartment, but then Bethany is all chatter again as she drags Kurt to her bedroom to show him her soccer trophies. Blaine takes a deep breath when they’re gone. He hadn’t expected to have Kurt in his apartment ever again, and he’s even more confused by his body’s reaction to that fact. He tries to find something to busy himself with, but rearranging the books on the coffee table really isn’t doing anything to help calm his nerves.

Ten minutes later, Kurt and Bethany emerge from her room.

“I asked Kurt to watch a movie with us!” Bethany enthuses, and by Kurt’s bewildered expression, Blaine’s pretty sure it wasn’t so much an ask as it was a demand.

“I’m sure Kurt has other things he needs to be doing tonight.” Blaine tries, even though his heart hammers in his chest betraying what his logical mind is telling him what needs to happen.

Kurt coughs, “No, it’s cool. That would be...cool.”

They settle in to watch The Greatest Showman, Bethany curled up on the chair which leaves Blaine and Kurt to sit together on the couch. They leave a large space between themselves, and Blaine tries hard not to keep looking at the other man.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Bethany yawns with a large stretch, “You know what? I’m pretty tired. I’m going to head to bed. Night Blaine. Night Kurt.” 

And she’s gone.

Blaine watches her go with wide eyes before looking over at Kurt, who is looking at him, and laughing awkwardly. He coughs and shifts, “So, um, you don’t have to stay…”

Kurt blinks at him, “Do you...want me to go?” He says, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. 

Blaine is shocked by how much he doesn’t want Kurt to leave. He shakes his head, “No.” He whispers, colour rising on his own cheeks.

It’s only when Kurt’s fingers curl over Blaine’s that Blaine realizes how close they’ve become. When did that happen?

Chapter Six

Kurt has no idea what he’s doing. He has no idea why he agreed to come up to the apartment. He has no idea why he agreed to stay when Bethany asked (told) him to stay for a movie. He has no idea why he’s currently holding Blaine’s hand.

All he knows is that if Blaine doesn’t kiss him in the next minute, he will spontaneously combust.

-- -- --

Blaine searches Kurt eyes, trying to find the answers to the million plus questions and uncertainties swirling in his own head. He doesn’t find much in ways of answers, but he does find a desire he hasn’t seen in three years (from Kurt or from anyone).

He lunges forward before he can overthink it too much and catches Kurt’s lips in a kiss. He almost immediately feels a push as Kurt growls and kisses back. Blaine feels a rush of heat up his spine at the feeling and sound.

He grabs Kurt’s shirt in both of his fists and thrills at the squeak Kurt makes when he pulls him up to stand. They kiss down the hallway and tumble into Blaine’s bedroom.

Blaine has a fleeting moment to thank a higher power he doesn’t really believe in that he cleaned his room that morning before he’s pushed back onto the bed.

He shuffles backwards as Kurt crawls over him and kissing horizontally is so, so much better.

He tugs Kurt’s shirt over his head and feels Kurt respond in kind. Their lips barely separate either time and as they both fumble for the other’s belt, button, and zipper Kurt kisses along Blaine’s jaw.

Blaine pants at the ceiling as Kurt pushes his pants as far down as he can before Blaine uses his feet to take them the rest of the way off. Kurt’s are gone a moment later. When Kurt lowers himself the only thing separating them are two thin boxers and Blaine realizes this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.

He hasn’t slept with anyone in three years, so he’s a little out of practice, but it’s clear by Kurt’s sure fingers, that this isn’t Kurt’s ‘first time’ in three years.

All conscious thought goes out the window, however, as Kurt pushes inside. Blaine exists only in nerves and low moans. He feels like every bit of him is alive, and when he opens his eyes (that he hadn’t realized he’d closed), he’s hit with an image of Kurt moving above him. It’s this image that carries him over the edge and his vision whites out at the corners as he comes.

Kurt follows a few thrusts later. They rock gently for a few minutes, their heavy breathing the only noise in the room, before Kurt pulls out and flops onto the bed next to Blaine. Blaine rolls his head on the pillow to look at Kurt, eyelashes spread across his cheeks, before his eyes are sliding shut and sleep pulls him under.

-- -- --

Blaine feels the bed shift and grunts awake. He brings a hand to rub his eyes and tries to let them adjust to the dim light of his bedroom. Now that he’s awake he’s not entirely sure what woke him. He squints into the darkness until he hears shuffling to his right and turns to find Kurt pulling on his pants. 

It’s almost completely dark in the room but Kurt’s pale skin seems to glow in the low moonlight streaming in from outside. Blaine blinks as he watches Kurt pull on his pants, “You’re leaving?”

He had whispered it but Kurt still jumps, turning around with his hands at his fly. He chuckles almost self-consciously, “Ummm yeah, I was going to head out.”

Blaine pushes up to sit against the headboard, “You don’t...have too.” He says softly.

He’s not really sure how to act right now. How does one act after sleeping with their ex-boyfriend who they haven’t seen in three years and are still mad at? Not to mention his ex-boyfriend who is maybe seeing someone else?

Kurt almost seems to wince, “It’s probably best. I don’t think Bethany should see me here.”

Bethany. Oh. Right.

Blaine nods, “You’re right.” 

Kurt nods back and the pair stare at each other silently for a few moments. Blaine wishes he could read Kurt’s mind. Does he regret what they did? Is he leaving not only for Bethany’s sake but because he regrets having slept with Blaine?

Does Blaine regret what they did?

“So, I’m just gonna...go.” Kurt says, gesturing toward the door.

Blaine nods again, “Okay.”

Kurt nods (and Blaine is struck by how much nodding is happening between them), before he’s tugging on his shirt over his head and heading to Blaine’s bedroom door, “I’ll talk to you later?” 

Blaine presses his lips together to keep from nodding again, “Yeah.” He says, and then Kurt is gone.

Blaine lets his head fall back against the headboard with a thud. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get more complicated…

-- -- --

Kurt gets as far as the door two down from Blaine’s apartment before he leans against the wall and lets his head hit the plaster with an audible thunk. He closes his eyes and runs a shaky hand over his face.

What the hell did he just do? What the hell did they just do?

Did he want it?

Of course he wanted it.

But they shouldn’t have. 

Right?

Kurt’s head throbs. He’s not sure what to think. It’s not like he hasn’t regretted his break up with Blaine since it happened three years ago, and it’s not like he hasn’t dreamt of that happening over and over again since, it’s just...no, they shouldn’t have done that.

Kurt’s cell phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out only to close his eyes at the name on the screen. 

Did he just cheat on Quintin?

Fighting back a wave of nausea, Kurt pockets his phone and marches down the hallway to the elevator. He doesn’t have the energy to think about all of this right now. So he’s going to do what he does best in these situations - avoid...and eat. He’s sure he can convince Finn to go out for breakfast with him. The distraction will be good...

...until he can figure out what the fuck he’s feeling or what the fuck he just did or didn’t do.

-- -- --

Blaine waits in bed for another twenty minutes before getting out of bed. He puts it off as long as possible but he can hear Bethany moving around the apartment and knows he’s got to get her to school and himself to work. Once again, he doesn’t have the luxury to dwell.

He throws on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and his glasses (he has no interest in futzing with his contacts at the moment). He checks his appearance in the mirror and sighs at the riot of curls he finds. He uses his hands to try and tame them but doesn’t have the energy to make any real effort. He sighs again and makes his way out into the living room.

Bethany’s on the couch with a bowl of cereal at her chest. She’s flipping through television channels and only spares Blaine a second’s glance before she looks back at the television, “Morning.” She says, simply.

“Morning.” Blaine says softly, moving to the coffee machine and hitting start. He pulls a mug from the cupboard and then leans his hands on the counter to wait for his coffee to brew.

He’s used to not speaking much in the morning with Bethany. They have an almost silent routine perfected, and while Blaine misses the mornings Bethany would chatter away and ask a million questions, he’s gotten used to her quiet apathy.

“So what time did Kurt leave?” One of Blaine’s hands slips from where he’s leaning against the counter and he has to catch himself quickly before he takes a header into the granite. Once he rights himself he turns to find Bethany watching him with a quirked eyebrow. He coughs and fidgets with his coffee mug.

“Ummm…” He starts. Words, Blaine. Use them. He chides himself.

“I’m...assuming it was after the movie?” Bethany asks, still looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has.

Blaine coughs again and nods, “Yeah, yeah. He stayed to finish watching the movie and then went home.” He silently thanks his sister for the out.

Bethany nods, “Cool. It’s cool he’s home.”

Blaine looks over at her, “Yeah?”

Bethany gives him a ‘duh’ face, “Of course. You don’t think so?”

That’s a loaded question if he’s ever heard one. On the one hand, yes. It is ‘cool’ that Kurt is home. Blaine has thought about Kurt a lot over the past three years and has missed him terribly despite being angry with him. But on the other hand, it’s awkward as hell and he went and made it more awkward by sleeping with Kurt. Kurt, who has clearly moved on from him and is dating someone else.

Did Blaine make Kurt cheat on his boyfriend? Blaine feels slightly nauseous at the thought. 

Bethany gives him another incredulous look at his silence and he coughs for a third time and nods, “Yeah, yeah it’s cool.”

Bethany nods slowly before turning back to the television and Blaine counts how many more times he’s going to have to see Kurt while he’s home. Hopefully not many.

Even though his heart clenches at that thought.

Chapter Seven

Blaine’s at work two days later, and as he smiles at the hulking man who just ordered a unicorn frappuccino (he’s not here to judge people) and gestures to his left for the man to pick up his drink, he turns to his next customer to find one Burt Hummel approaching.

Blaine swallows thickly. Burt’s never come to his work before, and while under normal circumstances this would be a welcome visit, Blaine is suddenly bombarded with images of Kurt in his bed and he is instantly fidgety. It doesn’t help that Burt looks...angry?

“Hey!” Blaine says, overly bright.

Burt lifts an eyebrow, “Hey. Can we talk? Do you have a break soon?”

Blaine nods, again trying not to let images of Kurt asking him a similar question last week come into his brain, “Yeah, just let me tell my boss. Do you want something to drink?”

Burt looks up at the board above Blaine’s head with a scowl, “I’ve never understood the need for all these crazy drinks.” He mumbles.

Blaine laughs softly, “I can get you a regular drip?”

Burt nods and smiles for the first time since the conversation started, “If you could add some grease fumes in there, it would taste like normal.” He winks as Blaine chuckles and then moves to find a seat while Blaine goes to make his drink and inform Lauren he’s taking a break.

-- -- --

“So, what’s up?” Blaine asks, trying for nonchalance as he sets a cup of black coffee in front of Burt, sits down opposite him and takes a sip of his own.

Burt picks up his cup and nods in thanks before sighing. He’s quiet for a moment and Blaine’s about to ask what’s wrong before Burt leans forward, brings his hand up, and lightly smacks the back of Blaine’s head.

“Ow!” Blaine exclaims even though it didn’t really hurt. He brings a hand up to the spot anyway and rubs as he gives Burt an incredulous look, “What was that for?”

“That was for whatever happened that made my son creep into my house at 5 am the other morning looking like he’d done a lot more than sleep in another bed.” Burt says pointedly.

Blaine’s cheeks flare red and he looks down at the floor. Oh.

Burt sighs, “Have you at least talked to him since?”

Blaine shakes his head. Despite agreeing with Kurt that he’d ‘talk to him later’, he hadn’t really thought ‘later’ would come.

Burt shakes his head, “You are both idiots.” There’s affection in his voice but Blaine still feels chastised.

He sits up a little straighter, “Why did you come to me about this? Did you talk to Kurt?”

Burt rolls his eyes, “I love my son but Kurt is so deep into avoidance, I’m sure he’d deny even knowing who you are at this point. I thought I’d have a better shot talking some sense into you.”

Blaine shifts, awkwardly, “I really think you should talk to your son.”

Burt lifts his eyebrows, “I am.” Blaine does a double take and Burt sighs, “When are you going to get it, Blaine? You’re my son. I care. I want the best for you. Including making you talk to my other son about...whatever is going on between you two.”

Blaine swallows and then lets a smile take over his face before trying to stifle it into his coffee cup. He sees Burt smirk and figures he didn’t hide his smile fast enough. He finds he’s okay with that.

The pair is quiet for a moment before Burt raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, “So...you gonna talk to Kurt?”

Blaine lets out a breath and sighs, “I’ll talk to Kurt.” He concedes, “Or...I’ll try.” He amends, and Burt nods knowingly, patting Blaine on the knee.

-- -- --

Blaine puts his talk with Kurt off until Friday. He’d actually like to blame indecision and nerves, but the truth is his life sort of blew up in the intervening five days. 

A colleague at work quit suddenly so Blaine has worked more hours this week than he hasn’t. Because he’s been at work so much, Bethany had to spend a lot of the week doing homework at the coffee shop (complete with snarky comments and glares because she couldn’t be at home). Blaine’s also had two essays due (one of which he had to beg for an extension on) and a midterm exam (which he had to ask to take after the class because he’d been at work during class). 

He hasn’t slept more than three hours at night for the past five nights and he’s had a headache for almost a complete day. Talking to Kurt had kind of fallen to the backburner. But it’s now Friday and as he and Bethany make their way to Burt and Carole’s for dinner, Blaine knows he’ll have to talk to Kurt tonight...and it’s now that indecision and nerves rear their ugly heads.

When he and Bethany get to the Hummel-Hudson’s, the only person there is Kurt. Of course. Blaine feels like the universe is just laughing at him at this point.

“Where is everyone?” Bethany asks as she makes herself at home on the couch.

“Dad and Finn got stuck at the garage. They should be home soon. Carole’s at the grocery store.” Kurt answers, softly, rubbing a hand up and down his arm as he looks at Bethany. He hasn’t looked at Blaine since they entered the house.

Blaine figures this is his moment to talk to Kurt, but his sluggish, over-tired, overworked, and nervous brain takes a second to get there. He blinks, owlishy, before looking up at Kurt, “Can we talk?”

Kurt startles and looks over. Blaine can see Bethany looking at him with wide eyes.

Kurt shifts awkwardly and looks for a moment like he’s going to refuse. But instead, he gives a jerky nod and then gestures out of the room. Blaine takes a deep breath before moving into the kitchen. He’s not exactly sure what he’s going to say but he knows he has to say something.

-- -- --

Kurt hesitates before following Blaine. He looks over at Bethany who quickly turns back to the television like she hadn’t been watching them. He swallows, turning to make his way down the hall toward the kitchen, and feels his chest tightening to the point where he has to bring a hand up to massage it to soothe the ache.

He furrows his brow as he tries to make sense of the feeling, and then it hits him. It’s his body’s reaction to seeing Blaine again. This has happened every time he’s seen or even heard Blaine’s name lately.

Maybe it’s hurt, or anger, or any number of negative feelings, but...maybe it’s not negative at all. He realizes with startling clarity that he hasn’t felt this feeling in almost three years. It’s as if his heart is literally trying to pop out of his chest and go to Blaine. It’s drawn to Blaine in a way it hasn’t been toward any other guy Kurt has dated since their breakup.

And as Kurt enters the kitchen to find Blaine sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the table top with a blank expression, he realizes just how much he wants Blaine back in his life. But does Blaine want him in his…?

-- -- --

Blaine hears more than sees Kurt enter the kitchen. He keeps his eyes trained on the table top (he’s not 100% sure he has the energy to look up even if he wanted to). He sees from his peripheral vision as Kurt settles slowly into a seat across from him. He’s moving slowly as if approaching a wild animal, and for some reason, Blaine finds this hilarious.

He’s laughing before he even really realizes it and when he finally looks up at Kurt, Kurt’s eyes are wide and his hands are frozen on the table in front of him.

Blaine keeps laughing, to the point where tears slide down his cheeks and he’s sure Kurt is close to calling 911 at his apparent hysteria. Blaine’s not sure where this is coming from, he’s not feeling jovial, but he is feeling...

“I am so done.” He says as his laughter peters out. Kurt eyes him warily. Blaine sighs as he runs a hand under his eyes to catch the few remaining tears clinging there, “I have been so...angry the last three years and now you’re here and we slept together and you’re with someone and my life is falling apart and I’m just so. Done.” He shrugs, “I don’t have it in me to be angry with you anymore. I just don’t.”

He definitely hadn’t meant to say any of that, but now that he has, he feels lighter somehow. He looks over at Kurt who is still looking at him warily and shrugs again, not really sure where to go from here.

Kurt is quiet for another moment before coughing, “Quintin and I aren’t exclusive.”

This makes Blaine laugh again, “Well, I guess that takes one thing off my list.”

Kurt swallows, “Do you regret...sleeping together?”

Blaine is taken aback by the question. Maybe not because of its content but because of Kurt’s demeanor. Kurt looks vulnerable. Blaine realizes he’s never seen Kurt this way. Not three years ago and definitely not any of the times he’s seen him in the last couple of weeks. 

Blaine furrows his eyebrows, “No.” He answers, honestly, and he sees Kurt take a deep breath and then let it out with a nod, “Do you?”

Kurt shakes his head and looks into Blaine’s eyes, “No.”

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together, “Look,” He says with another heavy sigh, “My life is extremely complicated right now, and while I’m not angry anymore,” He shakes his head, “I don’t think I have it in me to be anything other than friends.”

Kurt swallows thickly and nods, “Of course. That makes sense.” He says, “Besides...I am kinda seeing someone.”

Blaine nods and ignores the way his heart tugs at the reminder. He really doesn’t have it in him to date anyone. And besides, Kurt clearly doesn’t want to fall back into a relationship with him either.

Friends though. Friends he can do. He wasn’t lying when he said he was done being angry. He wants Kurt’s friendship. He wants to be able to talk to him and lean on him and have him part of his, and Bethany’s, life again.

The pair smile across the table at one another - a calm, comfortableness has settled between them that hasn’t been there for three years. It’s...nice.

“So was ‘us’ the only thing bothering you? Or do you want to tell me what has you looking like you haven’t slept in days?” Kurt asks with a smirk after a few more moments of silence.

Blaine chuckles, “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Kurt whispers softly and Blaine looks at him with tired eyes before nodding and venting to Kurt about his week until Burt and Carole come home.

Chapter Eight

Blaine’s life gets no less complicated as the week goes by, but he starts to trust Burt, and now that Kurt is back in his life, he begins to lean on them more and more.

He can’t put into words what it feels like to be able to talk to and confide in Kurt again. They see each other almost every day, usually because Kurt comes by the coffee shop while Blaine is working, and it feels like it did back when they first got together...complete with the flirting, which Blaine has to admit is amazing, if not confusing.

“You are a master whip creamer, did you know that?” Kurt says a week later while leaning his elbows on the counter at the coffee shop and Blaine uses a rag to wipe the counter after handing a drink to a woman on the other side.

Blaine chuckles, “Well, I did go to creamer school.” He turns and winks in the other man’s direction.

He notices Kurt’s eyes widen a little and colour rise in his cheeks ever so slightly. Blaine immediately chastises himself. He was the one who said they should be friends and he goes and winks at him? Idiot.

Kurt swallows and seems to shake himself out of his thoughts a moment later, “Well,” He says with a smile, “I’m sure you were top of your class.”

Blaine feels himself go warm, “It’s nothing compared to your famous buttercream flowers.” Blaine remembers the flowers Kurt created for Bethany’s birthday cake while they were together, they were magnificent.

Kurt puts a hand to his chest and affects a fake snooty expression, “You shouldn’t compare yourself to perfection.”

Blaine laughs at this and Kurt breaks his character to laugh back. They smile stupidly at each other for a moment longer before another customer comes to the counter.

Blaine shrugs apologetically before going to take the girl’s order. He can see Kurt out of the corner of his eye push up from the counter and look around briefly before letting his eyes settle back on Blaine. Blaine feels the weight of his stare and tries not to fidget under it.

They’re friends. They’re being friendly. They aren’t together and nor will they probably ever be together. Friends.

Blaine lets himself into his apartment later that night with a happy sigh. Kurt had hung around for most of his shift and he isn’t above saying he loved that.

“Blaine!” He hears called from the living room and sighs for a different reason. He shouldn’t have to brace himself to see his sister.

“What’s up?” He asks walking into the room. Bethany is sitting on the couch with a blanket around her despite the June warmth. Her long straight hair is pulled into two messy buns on the sides of her head. Blaine’s not sure if it’s her look or the fact that she just successfully survived an hour alone after being dropped off after soccer practice, but she seems...older. He’s momentarily taken aback by that thought.

She smiles at him. Wait. Smiles?

“I thought we could do that puzzle I got you for your birthday!” Bethany says.

Blaine almost does a double take. Who is this girl? She’s happy and she’s willingly offering to spend time with him doing an activity she doesn’t like...where did his bratty sister go?

His skepticism must show on his face because Bethany looks at him oddly, “What? Do I have something on my face?” She asks, self-consciously bringing a hand up to her face.

Blaine shakes himself out of it, “No, no. I’m just...tired. But doing that puzzle sounds great.”

Bethany smiles and nods, lifting off the top of the box as Blaine sits down next to her.

The pair spend a good two hours working on the elephant puzzle, laughing and talking. Blaine finds his chest expanding with happiness, and hope. How could it be that he fixes things with Kurt AND Bethany in the same week? He’s not that lucky. But as Bethany playfully punches him, laughing, for stealing a puzzle piece she was about to put in and putting it in himself, he can’t help but...hope.

-- -- --

Blaine is putting the last dish away when there’s a knock at the door. He pouts thoughtfully in its direction, wondering who it could be. 

It’s almost midnight and Blaine has been alone since ten when Bethany had gone to bed. The final shock of their evening together had been when she’d hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek before she left for her bedroom. Blaine is still confused by it, but incredibly grateful for her good mood. After she’d gone to bed Blaine had studied for a while before cleaning the kitchen.

He makes his way to the door, checking the clock to confirm that it is as late as he thinks it is. The clock blinks 11:49 back at him and he wonders if perhaps one of his neighbours is having an emergency.

There’s another knock on the door before Blaine can get to it and he pulls it open to find Kurt on the other side - his hand raised for the knock and his eyes wide.

“Oh!” Kurt says breathlessly, “I...thought you were asleep.”

Blaine is aware of Kurt’s gaze taking in his jeans and sweater, and lack of pajamas, and curses his body for heating up at the look.

“I was just cleaning the kitchen.” Blaine whispers, something about the late hour making it feel like whispering is required. Kurt nods but isn’t forthcoming with any more words, “Not that I’m not happy to see you but...how’d you get in without the buzzer?”

Kurt chuckles lightly, “You have very accomodating neighbours.”

Blaine nods in response. Kurt looks...nervous. He keeps fidgeting with the bag over his shoulder and looking down the hall as if expecting someone to come drag him away.

“Is everything okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt’s eyes snap back to Blaine and they are momentarily quiet, Blaine’s question forgotten, as they stare at each other. Eventually Kurt shakes his head and smiles, “Yeah, everything’s fine I just...brought something and I thought we could…” He trails off and looks down the hall again.

Blaine’s brow furrows, looking down at Kurt’s bag, “Brought what and thought we could what?”

Kurt looks back at Blaine and Blaine notices a small smile brighten Kurt’s nervous face before Kurt pinches his lips together to try and quell it. The other man reaches into the bag at his hip and pulls out a red container.

Blaine tilts his head curiously before laughing, “Whipped cream?” He asks.

Kurt lifts his eyebrows, “I thought we could…”

Blaine’s laughter dies away and he looks curiously at Kurt before he catches on, “Oh!” He says, eyes wide.

Kurt shrugs, “I mean, I know we’re friends but there’s nothing in the rulebook that says friends can’t…”

Blaine should say no. No good can come from this...okay maybe *some* good can come from this. But they’re friends. This will only complicate things...but then Kurt bites his lip and looks coyly at Blaine, and Blaine is done for.

He reaches forward and pulls Kurt in by the front of his shirt. Kurt squeaks at the movement as Blaine pushes the door closed and kisses Kurt against it.

-- -- --

Blaine runs a finger over his stomach and laughs softly at the sticky residue there. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and sighs as he sucks the sweetness, absently, off his finger.

“I think your whipped cream skills beat my flower skills.” Kurt sighs next to him.

Blaine smiles and looks over. Kurt is all long, smooth pale skin, ruffled hair and pink cheeks. He looks amazing and all Blaine can do is stare.

Kurt is leaning against the headboard and turns to look at Blaine with a lazy smile, “We make really good friends.”

Blaine chuckles at this before bringing his arm up to rest behind his head, “Do you think we should set up some...ground rules for this? If this is something that’s going to happen..regularly?” He’s not sure Kurt wants it to happen regularly. Blaine’s not sure if he himself wants it to be regular. 

Kurt looks thoughtful, “Probably.” He agrees. He shifts to sit cross-legged facing Blaine, Blaine’s sheet over his lap, “Okay first, no sleepovers.”

Blaine nods, that makes sense, “And we can’t tell Bethany.” He adds.

Kurt nods, “I’d say we can’t tell my dad either, but I have a feeling it will be hard to keep from him.” Blaine shrugs and nods, “But I won’t actively try to tell him.” Blaine nods again. Kurt bites his lip, “We should probably agree that this ends when I go home?”

Home. Blaine takes a deep breath at the thought. Kurt doesn’t consider Ohio home anymore, which makes sense in a way, but something about the thought makes Blaine sad. Blaine is in Ohio and probably always will be. If Kurt doesn’t consider Ohio home anymore...any flicker of hope Blaine might have had for their relationship fizzles out. This is all he’ll ever get. And it’ll last…

“When do you go back?” Blaine asks.

Kurt licks his lips, “Two weeks.”

Blaine nods and looks back up at the ceiling. Two weeks. He’ll get two weeks and then Kurt will be back in New York with his life and his boyfriend, and Blaine will be here. Can he do this?

He shifts to look back at Kurt, “And you’re okay with doing this with your…” He can’t say it outloud, “back in New York.”

Kurt seems to understand what, or rather who, he’s talking about, “We aren’t exclusive.” He reiterates and Blaine nods, “I guess I should have asked, but do you...have...someone?”

Blaine wants to laugh at the question. Someone. He hasn’t had someone since Kurt. In any way, shape, or form. 

He simply shakes his head and Kurt seems to let out a breath before nodding, “So, no sleepovers. No actively telling the people in our lives,  and it ends in two weeks. Anything else?”

Blaine wants to tell Kurt he can’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. He hasn’t decided yet if he *can* do this but he’s already pretty sure this is going to end badly for him. But then he looks at Kurt, beautiful, first - and so far only - love of his life Kurt, and he decides he’ll take what he can get. He never stopped loving Kurt. 

He just wishes Kurt hadn’t stopped loving him.

Blaine shakes his head, “I think that’s good for now.” He whispers.

Kurt nods and smiles, “All right. That works for me too.” His smile changes from happy to coy, “So I know I’m not sleeping over but...one more round?”

He’s taking what he’s offered and he’s not going to think about what happens in two weeks. He can do casual. He has to do casual if he wants this from Kurt.

He licks his lips and props himself up on his elbow, running a hand along Kurt’s thigh before tugging the sheet off his lap. Kurt’s smile grows as he stretches out to kiss Blaine back onto the bed and rolls on top of him.

Chapter Nine

Friends with benefits.

It’s not an arrangement Blaine ever thought he’d find himself in, but then again he didn’t think at fifteen he’d be the sole guardian of his seven-year-old sister. Life throws you curveballs and you either take a swing at them or get hit by them, and Blaine’s been hit by enough curveballs in the last three years that he’s decided to take a swing at this one.

Falling back into a sexual relationship with Kurt is incredibly easy. They fit together, they move well together, and chemistry has never been a problem with them. Most of their interactions now end with a panting, post-orgasmic, jumbles of limbs. And while Blaine had forgotten how exhausting frequent sex can be, he can’t deny how satisfying it is.

But then, Kurt will get up and get his clothes on. He’ll tweak one of Blaine’s toes playfully under the blanket. And then he’ll be gone (most of their trysts take place at Blaine’s house because it’s easier to hide them from Bethany than it is Burt).

It’s not that they don’t talk. Kurt still comes to hang out at the coffee shop for almost every one of Blaine’s shifts, and Blaine and Bethany still go over for Friday night dinner, but it’s all surface stuff. They talk about school, work, and family mostly. And they flirt. But it doesn’t feel like it did before. When they were dating. When they were potentially the most important people in each other’s lives. And they definitely don’t talk about why they are no longer a couple.

There’s a distance now that places them squarely in the ‘friends with benefits’ category but that also makes the whole arrangement a little less satisfying.

“How long do we have before Bethany gets dropped off from her study group?” Kurt asks on a Friday, a little over a week after they began this arrangement, already peeling Blaine out of his shirt.

“About an hour.” Blaine pants as he works on Kurt’s belt.

Kurt smirks, “Perfect.” He says. He pushes Blaine backwards and Blaine falls, bouncing on the bed. He waits for Kurt to crawl over him like he always does (like Blaine loves when he does) and isn’t disappointed after Kurt removes his own pants.

“Hey, do you want to just hang out after and you, me, and Bethany can head to your parent’s together?” Blaine asks, smoothing a hand up Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt kisses along Blaine’s throat, “Okay two things. One - never bring up Bethany or my parents while either of us has an erection.” Blaine chuckles lowly, “And two - sure.”

Blaine hums into the next kiss and surrenders to whatever Kurt wants.

They’re sitting on the couch watching TV an hour (and two orgasms) later, when Bethany gets home.

“Hey, so I asked Carole if I could stay over tonight and she said yes.” Bethany says as she makes her way into the apartment. She looks over at the couch and does a double take before smiling brightly, “Kurt!” She squeals, running over to hug him.

Kurt laughs, “Hey Annie. Good study group?”

Bethany shrugs and sits between the pair, “It was all right.” She looks at Blaine, “So can I stay over at Carole and Burt’s tonight?”

Blaine smiles at her and then looks over her head at Kurt who is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. With Bethany at Burt and Carole’s for the night, he and Kurt wouldn’t have to be quiet or sneaky…

“Sure, Annie.” He says, still looking at Kurt, who winks at him.

Bethany claps excitedly and then reaches for the remote, uncaring of what the boys were watching, to change the channel to MTV. Blaine doesn’t really notice, and he’s sure Kurt doesn’t either, as they continue to look at each other and think about all the possibilities for the night ahead.

-- -- --

“Hey Carole?” Bethany asks later that night as she and Carole sit playing crazy eights after Burt has gone to bed.

Carole ‘hmmm’s in response as she surveys her cards and the card currently on the table.

“How do you know you’re in a relationship?” Bethany asks.

Carole looks up from the table, back down at the table, and then up again sharply. She laughs softly, “Ummm why do you ask?”

Bethany shrugs, “Just curious.”

Carole looks at her for a moment before sighing, “Well, the easiest way to know you’re in a relationship is to talk about it. Ask questions. Communicate.”

Bethany nods, thoughtfully, “But what if there isn’t talking? Can you tell in other ways?”

Carole looks curiously at her, “I mean, I guess. But...why do you want to know?” She looks at Bethany with lifted brows, “Do you like someone at school?”

Bethany instantly recoils, “Ew. No. Every boy at my school is gross and immature.” She says.

Carole chuckles with a nod but then looks curious again, “Then I’m a little confused, sweetheart, about why you want to know about being in a relationship.”

Bethany sighs and wonders if she should mention anything. She hadn’t planned on saying anything, she was just...curious. She finally decides to just ask, “Are Kurt and my brother dating?” 

Carole’s eyes widen in surprise, “I...don’t know. What makes you ask?”

Bethany sighs again, “Well, they’re spending so much time together and they’re always smiling and...I don’t know.”

Carole smiles, “Bethany, adult relationships can be complicated. They aren’t always so straightforward. Blaine and Kurt may be seeing each other again or they may just be friends. Unless you ask one of them, I don’t think you’re going to get a clear answer.”

Bethany slumps, “Oh. They could be just friends?”

Carole tilts her head, “That would make you sad?”

Bethany shakes her head, “No. I mean...I don’t know.” She shrugs

Carole reaches across the table and lays a hand on Bethany’s, “My suggestion is you talk to your brother if you’re really curious. From what I’ve seen, he and Kurt have been getting a lot closer lately but that doesn’t mean they’re dating.”

“I just…” Bethany shakes her head again, not really wanting to share her true thoughts.

Carole sighs, “If it makes you feel any better, boys can sometimes be very oblivious and not really understand what’s going on even in their own relationships. And in that relationship? You have two boys.” 

Bethany giggles, “So you’re saying...boys are dumb?”

Carole laughs and pats Bethany’s hand, “Most of the time, yes. But don’t tell Burt, Finn, Kurt, or your brother that I said that.” She winks.

-- -- --

Blaine comes awake slowly to light streaming through the crack in the curtains and landing on his face. He blinks and shifts to get out of its path and stretches leisurely and notices how certain muscles twinge with the effort. He and Kurt had gotten a little...enthusiastic last night with the privacy.

He smiles into his pillow at the memory until he hears and feels movement beside him. The smile freezes on his face as Kurt grunts and shifts.

Rule number one had been no sleepovers.

“Mmmmm morning.” Kurt hums, sounding half asleep still, and Blaine feels his arms come around his waist. Blaine tries not to let Kurt’s gravelly voice and languid movements affect him.

“Kurt?” He asks. Kurt hums behind him, “It’s morning.”

It takes Kurt a second to get it, but Blaine can feel him tense when he does, “Oh.” He says into Blaine’s ear.

Blaine grimaces, “Yeah. I guess we...broke the rule.”

Blaine tries not to feel bereft when Kurt’s arm pulls back and he hears the other man shift again. He rolls around to find Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed, his straight back to Blaine.

“Sorry.” Kurt mumbles.

Blaine blinks, “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

Kurt is silent for a moment before he reaches for his pants and starts pulling them on, “No, but it’s my fault. I fell asleep. I should have left...after. I’ll go now.”

Blaine sighs, he’s not sure where this strange energy is coming from, “You don’t have to. We could...have breakfast?”

Kurt gets up to do his pants up and turns to Blaine with a haughty expression, “Breakfast together? Don’t you think we’ve already crossed a line here? I think a little damage control is in order.”

Blaine feels a sinking sense of dread. He feels whatever small piece of Kurt he had slipping away. All because they fell asleep and he suggested they eat something?

“I gotta go.” Kurt says, tugging on his shirt.

Blaine’s about to stutter out some more words when the door of the apartment opens with a loud creak, “Hey Blaine!” Bethany calls into the apartment, “Carole dropped me off! I thought we could go to the mall together!”

Blaine looks at Kurt with wide eyes to find the other man looking at the door to the bedroom with equally wide eyes. There is no way this isn’t going to end in Bethany finding out something is going on. There is no story to spin that will make this look any better.

“Blaine?” She calls when there is no response, “You better not be sleeping, you lazy bum!” The insult is said with affection and Blaine has just enough time to feel joy over the easy way she teases him before panic sets in. She’s more than likely on her way to his room.

Kurt seems to figure this out a second after he does and his head snaps to the closet door just as the door to Blaine’s bedroom opens and they are officially out of time.

“Wake up, Bl…” The rest of his name dies on his sister’s lips as her eyes widen at the scene in front of her. Kurt is fully dressed beside the bed but his hair is a riot of bedhead and Blaine is still very much naked under the sheets.

“Bethany.” He says and her eyes land on him, “Can we have a moment?” He grimaces.

Bethany looks back and forth between them before nodding and moving to leave. As she closes the door, Blaine’s pretty sure he can see her smiling and he furrows his brow at that before Kurt is moving once again.

“Well, this is just great.” Kurt mumbles as he picks up his socks and tugs one on.

“I’ll talk to her.” Blaine says and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, do that.” He says.

Blaine can understand Kurt being upset that Bethany saw what she saw, but the anger is confusing him.

Kurt straightens after putting on his other sock and pauses as he looks at Blaine, confused on the bed, “Bye.” He says shortly.

Blaine can do nothing but nod as Kurt makes his way out of the room and then out of the apartment, if he passes Bethany on the way out Blaine can’t hear any acknowledgement between the pair.

Blaine sighs and looks down at the sheets on his lap for a moment. He knows he has to go talk to Bethany but he’s not above saying he’s okay to stall as long as possible.

Eventually he figures if he doesn’t get up she’ll come looking for him so he makes his way out of bed and throws on some sweats. He’s not ready to talk to her but he figures he owes her an explanation.

-- -- --

Kurt makes it as far as the elevator before his legs won’t hold him up anymore. He hits the button for the lobby and then leans against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting with his knees to his chest. He runs a hand down his face and then both hands through his messy hair.

What is he doing? What are they doing?

He feels like he can’t breath. He has spent the past two weeks pretending he’s not still head over heels in love with Blaine and it’s getting harder and harder to keep up the act.

When he woke up next to Blaine this morning he had felt the most amazing sense of calm. It had felt right. It had felt like it used to. And then Blaine had mentioned that they broke the rules and Kurt was reminded that Blaine will never again see him that way.

He’d set the no sleepover rule to protect himself and apparently for good reason. The first time they slip up, the first thing Blaine does is point it out, and then Bethany. God, Bethany had shown up and Kurt had wanted to throw up.

He has no idea what Blaine is going to say to Bethany but Kurt hadn’t wanted anyone to know because then they’d ask questions Kurt either couldn’t answer or couldn’t answer honestly. And for it to be Bethany of all people…

The elevator dings to indicate he’s reached the lobby. He’s peripherally glad no one had come into the elevator to witness his mini-meltdown and he gets up from the floor to walk out of the building.

He’s halfway to his car when his phone rings in his back pocket. He wonders, and hopes, briefly that it’s Blaine - asking him to come back so they can talk to Bethany together. But it’s not. It’s Quintin.

Kurt runs a hand over his mouth again and answers, “Hey.” He says with a shaky exhale.

“Hey you!” Quintin enthuses on the other end and Kurt feels a spike through his stomach. Quintin is so nice, and Kurt hasn’t even thought about him in a week.

“How’s it going?” Kurt asks as he continues his way to his car. He puts a hand to his stomach to try and quell his queasiness.

“Not bad. Just thought I’d see how being at home was going for you! I haven’t heard from you in a bit, must be busy and fun!” Quintin says.

Kurt swallows as he pulls open the door to his car and gets in. He leans his head against the headrest and takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, it’s been...good.” He says with another swallow.

Quintin pauses, “That sounds like the opposite of good.”

Kurt closes his eyes, “Look, Quintin, we’ve got to talk.”

-- -- --

Blaine slowly makes his way out of his bedroom and peeks into the living room where Bethany is sitting on the couch. He coughs to announce his presence and Bethany turns to him with a smile.

Blaine’s still not used to the smiles she so freely gives him lately, but this one seems particularly strange considering the circumstances.

“So…” He starts and then pauses.

“You and Kurt are back together!” Bethany shouts, even going as far as to put her hands up in a celebratory gesture.

Blaine chokes on his spit, “Ummmm no. No, we’re not.”

Bethany’s jubilant energy fades and her arms come down as her face crumbles into confusion, “You’re...not?” She asks.

Blaine sighs and makes his way over to sit on the couch, “We aren’t dating, Bethany. We’re just...friends.” He’s not even sure they’re that anymore though.

Bethany gives him an incredulous look, “Carole was right, boys *are* dumb.”

Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise before he sighs again, “Kurt and I are just friends. And in a week when he goes back to New York, we won’t see him much anymore.”

Blaine almost doesn’t get the words out. It’s a struggle to pull them from his vocal chords and his mouth tastes awful afterwards. Nothing about Kurt going back to New York, and leaving Blaine here in Ohio, makes him feel good right now.

Bethany looks at Blaine and then pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. It looks to Blaine like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible.

“So when that happens,” She pauses and pushes some of her hair over her shoulder before continuing, “Are you going to go back to being sad?”

Blaine’s brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Bethany gives him a sad smile, “I may be twelve but I’m not stupid. You’ve been...sad. For a long time. Ever since Kurt left the first time.”

Blaine blinks. He thought he’d hidden his sadness from his sister. He thought he’d kept that part of himself from her, thought it was his job to make sure she didn’t see it, and it turns out she had all along.

“I’m not sad.” He defends even though he knows it’s useless.

Bethany rolls her eyes, “I told you I’m not dumb, Blaine.”

And suddenly, things become a lot clearer to Blaine, “Is that why you’ve been so mad at me?”

Bethany huffs and smacks the couch next to her, “I just want you to be happy!” She yells, “You’re my brother. I love you so much and I just want you to be happy and you haven’t been and that’s made me angry. Just...be happy, damnit!”

Blaine is taken aback by the outburst. His first thought is to reprimand her for her language, but the scolding dies on his lips at her hard expression, as if she’s challenging him to try and reprimand her at the moment. So, instead, he thinks about the content of her speech.

Her anger toward him was because she could see how sad he was and didn’t know how to make it better. She just wanted him to be happy and he couldn’t do that for her. He’d let her down and that had made her angry.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathes, feeling out of breath as tears form in his eyes.

Bethany pulls her top lip in and looks at him with a pained expression, “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy.”

Blaine, honestly, doesn’t know how to do that. He’s been so focused on Bethany for the past three years, doing everything he could to make sure she was okay and taken care of, that he’s forgotten how to make himself happy. He’s been working, going to school, and taking care of Bethany since Kurt left the first time. He didn’t have time or energy to make friends let alone date. He’s been...stuck.

“And when Kurt came back and you started to hang out more you were starting to be like my old Blaine. But now I’m afraid you’re going to go back to being sad and I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.” Bethany continues and Blaine realizes she’s crying at the same time he realizes tears have begun to fall down his own cheeks. 

Blaine is speechless. He literally doesn’t know what to say. He feels like the worst caregiver and human ever at this moment, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He spends a few moments opening and closing his mouth like a fish before Bethany lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck. She shuffles over so she’s sitting next to him and buries her face in his shoulder.

Blaine brings his arms up and circles them around her waist. He holds on as she cries into his shoulder and tries to think of what to say to make this better.

Chapter Ten

“More car trouble?” Burt asks, the next day, as Blaine makes his way into the garage where the older man is rearranging some tools.

Blaine smiles, sadly, and shakes his head as he hands Burt the coffee he brought for him. Burt accepts it with a nod of thanks and Blaine shoves his now free hand into his shorts pocket, “No. I came to talk.”

Burt nods, “I’m always available for that.” He says and gestures for Blaine to follow him back to the office.

Blaine follows slowly, looking around at the idle cars in varying stages of repair around him. He’s not one for vague metaphors but he’s suddenly hit with the fact that he’s like one of the cars in Burt’s garage. He just wonders in what stage of repair he’s in.

He chuckles at his own thoughts and Burt looks at him with a cocked head, “Just thought of something funny.” Blaine explains and Burt ‘ah’s as they sit across from each other in the small room.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Burt asks.

“Have you talked to Kurt?” Blaine asks.

“Not since he came home from your place yesterday.” Blaine looks over at Burt sharply. Burt sighs, “Of course I know.” Burt answers his unspoken question, “But I have a feeling your talk wasn’t as clarifying as it could have been?”

Blaine runs a hand over his face, “I don’t even know anymore, but that’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Burt shifts in his seat and nods, “Shoot.”

Blaine sighs, “Bethany and I had a talk yesterday and…” He sighs again, “I think I may be depressed?” Burt’s eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t say anything so Blaine continues, “She kept saying how sad I was, and I mean yeah I’ve been stressed since I was fifteen, hell even before I was fifteen, but these past three years have felt...different. I feel like I don’t have anything in my life, and I have no friends, and then Kurt came back and that whole thing happened and…” He can feel himself breathing faster and his heartbeat pick up in his chest.

Burt holds up a hand and it quiets Blaine’s speech, but not his heart rate, “Okay, slow down. Breathe.” Burt soothes and Blaine does just that. He takes a slow breath in and then out, and then in and out again. The pair is quiet for a minute or two as Blaine breathes, and slowly his heart starts to slow back to normal, “Good.” Burt finally says when he can see that Blaine has calmed, “Keep breathing.” He encourages. Blaine nods, “Now, I hear you and I understand.” Blaine nods again, “Have you ever thought about talking to someone?”

Blaine pauses. The thought had honestly never crossed his mind. His responsibility had been Bethany. His needs had always taken a back seat.

“You can’t take care of Bethany unless you’re taking care of yourself.” Burt says softly, “And I am here for you, and Carole is here for you. Hell, even Finn is here for you.” Blaine chuckles softly and Burt smiles, “But maybe talking to someone who is trained to help might be good?”

Blaine nods. That actually sounds like a really good idea and the reminder that Blaine has a support system makes him breathe a little easier.

Burt scrunches his nose slightly in a gesture of unease, “Now I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say next, and I’m no professional but…”

“You think I should stop sleeping with Kurt.” Blaine says bluntly.

“Bingo.” Burt sighs, “At least for right now. You need to get yourself sorted before you’re ready to be with someone else.”

Blaine nods again. He knows Burt’s right. He just wishes it didn’t feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

-- -- --

He calls in sick to work on Monday, and after dropping Bethany off at a friend’s house, he drives to Burt and Carole’s, hoping Kurt will be the only one home.

When he pulls into the driveway he’s thankful to find only Kurt’s car there and he takes a deep breath as he makes his way to the front door.

He hesitates only a moment before knocking and it doesn’t take long for Kurt to answer. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a soft long sleeved shirt and Blaine hates how amazingly beautiful he looks with his hair flopping over his forehead.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey.” Kurt answers, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, “Come in.” He says, gesturing into the house with his head.

Blaine follows him in and they silently make their way into the living room. Kurt sits down on the sofa while Blaine takes the chair and they fidget with their hands in their laps for a minute before Blaine sighs and figures he’ll start the conversation.

“I talked to Bethany.” He says.

“I broke up with Quintin.” Kurt answers and Blaine’s eyes widen at the admission. Kurt swallows and smoothes his hands down his thighs, “I didn’t mean to just blurt that out but...there it is.”

Blaine licks his lips and blinks, “When?” He asks for lack of anything better.

Kurt scrunches an eye shut, “After leaving your place on Saturday.” He answers.

Blaine nods and while this information shouldn’t change what he’s come here to say, it does make his heart speed up and his chest inflate with a hope he shouldn’t feel.

“But you obviously came here to say something and I just derailed the conversation so...back to you. You talked to Bethany?” Kurt asks.

Blaine takes a deep breath and nods, remembering what he wanted to say, “Yeah, I did. She...thought we were together.” He says, looking over at Kurt to see the other man inhale sharply, “I told her we weren’t.” He continues and watches as Kurt’s face becomes pained, “But we started talking about our relationship, Bethany’s and mine, and...I’ve got some stuff to fix.”

Kurt cocks his head curiously and Blaine gets a flash of Burt doing the same thing yesterday, noting briefly how similar father and son really are.

“I made some calls and I’m going to start seeing a therapist this week.” Kurt purses his lips in interest but let’s Blaine continue, “I think I’ve been so focussed on Bethany these past few years that I forgot how to take care of myself? And as it turns out, that was one of the main things hurting our relationship. I need some help figuring out a balance. Figuring out how to be me AND her guardian.” Kurt nods in understanding, and Blaine looks up at him through his lashes, “And I think to do that I have to narrow my focus. I have to only focus on me...and her.”

He waits to see Kurt’s reaction and is rewarded (though it doesn’t feel like a reward) with another pained expression from Kurt who slumps against the couch, “Oh.” He says softly.

“Things are just so complicated right now and I need to simplify them for a while, I think, and find a way to make everything work and…” Blaine begins to ramble but Kurt sits up straight and reaches for his hands, clasping them in his and causing Blaine to stop talking.

“Hey, no, you sound like you’re apologizing.” He says, “You have nothing to apologize for. I get it. I was just momentarily...disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Blaine asks.

Kurt smiles, “I think you’re right that you need to narrow your focus and I am not what you should be focusing on right now, but...it’s always been you, Blaine.”

Blaine is breathless. He literally can’t breathe. Kurt looks up at him through his lashes with a smile, “I’m sorry if that complicates things more, and I promise to leave you to focus on what you need to focus on but maybe...when you’ve worked some stuff out...we could...talk?”

Blaine is nodding before Kurt even finishes the question and the other man laughs softly before cupping Blaine’s cheek in his and kissing him softly. It’s not the start of anything, but it feels like a promise.

Chapter Eleven

“The next person to say the words ‘composition’ has to take a shot and I will not hear another word to the contrary!” Blaine chuckles as Miles shouts louder than necessary to their group of five.

Miles is a guy from Blaine’s music theory class. Actually their entire group of five, sitting in a circular booth at the bar, is from Blaine’s music theory class. They’re a good group, if not a little more into shots than Blaine is, or can be.

“I think that’s my cue to call it a night.” He says and is instantly booed, “All right, all right, all right. I get it. I’m old.” He says.

Carrie, a blonde haired girl with glasses to his left, slings an arm around his shoulders, “You’re not old. You’re just responsible.” He doesn’t miss the way Miles tightens an imaginary tie around his neck as if that represents ‘responsible’.

“Well, either way, I have to be up early tomorrow to take Bethany to school before work. So I’ll leave you all to your shots.” Blaine says, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his jacket.

“We love you, Blaine. Come back to us!” Cruz is a drama major and it shows.

Blaine chuckles again, “I’ll see you all in class on Thursday.” He says and as he leaves he hears a shout of ‘Or for pool on Wednesday!’ He waves over his shoulder to let them know he’s heard them but continues to walk outside.

The cool November air bites at his skin and he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He misses the warmth of summer but as he makes his way to his car, he can’t help but think about how different his life is from five months ago.

He’s...happy.

He takes a deep breath at the thought and lets it out in a puff of white vapor from his nostrils. As he watches the cloud dissipate, he’s reminded of Marko, one of his students’, assessment of cold breath.

“Winter makes us all dragons, Mr. Anderson!” The eight year old had enthused while he and Blaine had been waiting for his mother to come get him.

“How’s that, Marko?” Blaine had asked.

Marko breathed aggressively out of his nose and the white streams had shot down toward his chest, “Dragon breath!”

Blaine lets another stream of ‘dragon breath’ out as he gets to his car. One thing that’s different about his life? He quit his job at the coffee shop at the beginning of August and now works full time giving music lessons to kids. He’s not sure if it’s what he wants to do for the rest of his life, but as his therapist had said - at least it’s something he’s passionate about *now*. Making coffee had never been a passion. It had been a necessary job. But now he has both a job and a passion.

He’d also switched from business to music classes at the community college.

“I don’t think I can make a viable living with a music degree, especially from a community college in Ohio.” Blaine had said to his therapist, Diana, when she’d suggested it.

She’d shaken her head, “You are twenty-one, Blaine. Your main concern right now shouldn’t be what will make a viable career.” She’d held up her hand when he’d tried to protest, “I know you have Bethany, and it’s admirable that you want to do what’s best for her, but you are secure financially, correct?” Blaine had nodded, “Then take a chance, Blaine. Do what you *want* to do for a while instead of what you think you *should* do. You literally have your whole life to make a sensible decision, your early twenties isn’t necessarily that time. And there is nothing to say music can’t be a viable career.”

Blaine had disagreed with her general theory at first but had agreed to try taking one music course along with his business courses in September...and by mid-October he had transferred out of all of his business courses, except one, and opted into all music courses. They made him feel alive, and that was the feeling he’d been trying to chase.

Which is also why he now has what normal, well-adjusted people would call friends. Friends had been something Blaine felt he didn’t have the time or energy for, but with Diana’s encouragement, Blaine had reached out to a couple of people in his music theory class, and now he has a group of people he goes out with regularly and who are becoming, even after such a short time, a good group of friends.

As Blaine pulls into the parking lot of his building he takes another deep breath and lets it out. He’s got a lot of work still to do, but the lighter feeling in his chest as of late is something he wants to nurture.

He lets himself into the apartment as quietly as he can to find Carole sitting on the couch, raptly watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy on the television.

She looks up startled when he comes in and then laughs self-consciously and pauses the television, “There’s just been a plane crash. Things are tense.” She says.

Blaine chuckles, “Things are always tense on that show.”

Carole shrugs and gets up to hug Blaine to her. Blaine goes easily and takes the comfort she provides, “Bethany’s been in bed since eight and asleep since nine when I finally took away her iPad I didn’t realize she still had.” Blaine chuckles again, “Did you have a good night?”

Blaine nods, “Yeah, it was great. Thank you so much, Carole.”

Carole smiles, “Anytime, sweetheart. Though, I think next time it’ll be Burt who watches her. Apparently she’s teaching him how to use Twitter.”

“God help us all.” Blaine laughs and Carole laughs with him before kissing his cheek and seeing herself out.

Blaine turns off the television and flicks on a lamp that casts a soft glow on the apartment as he picks up a fallen blanket and straightens up a little before heading to bed. 

He’s halfway down the hall when Bethany’s door opens and she leans out, “Hey.” He whispers as she looks at him bleary-eyed.

“When did you get home?” She asks.

“Not long ago. I’ve been home maybe ten minutes?” He guesses. She nods, “Did you need something?”

She shakes her head and looks at him with a squinted eye against the light of the hallway. Her open eye looks cloudy with sleep, “Did you have fun?” She asks.

Blaine smiles, “Yeah. I did.” He says.

Bethany nods, “Good.” She nods again, “Good.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Blaine smiles again, “You should head back to bed.” He says.

Bethany nods and then does something that even after five months still shocks Blaine slightly and causes his heart to grow in size every time. She shuffles forward and wraps her arms around his waist in a hug. He hugs her back and kisses the top of her head.

The thing that has made him the happiest over the past five months has been his relationship with his sister. They still squabble and fight, but the closeness and fondness that had been missing has returned. They hug more freely, laugh more heartily, and smile more easily with each other, and Blaine is forever thankful for the change.

“Night, big brother.” Bethany whispers as she shuffles back to her room.

“Night, Annie.” He whispers back and then her door is closed and he makes his way to his own room.

He changes into a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and then sits on his bed to check his phone one last time. He’s got a text from Burt saying he forgot his Twitter password that Blaine decides he’ll answer in the morning as he chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly. He’s also got a text from Miles stating vehemently that Cruz was in fact the first one to say ‘composition’ but that everyone had vowed it had been Miles so he’d had to take an unjustified shot. Blaine laughs and rolls his eyes at this one too, texting back that the world is cruel sometimes.

There are no other new texts or emails on his phone so he’s got nothing left to do but to do the same thing he does every time he goes to bed lately. He flips to his contacts and lets his thumb hover over Kurt’s name in the list.

He hasn’t pressed the button once since Kurt left to go back to New York at the end of June, and Kurt hasn’t tried to contact him either, but that hasn’t stopped him from wanting to every night.

He constantly wonders what Kurt is up to, how his life in New York is going, and how often he may be thinking of Blaine. He does ask Burt how Kurt is doing and Burt always says that Kurt is doing fine and gives him updates on his classes and other things, but it’s never enough and Blaine feels like he’s thirsty for Kurt information. Thirsty for Kurt himself.

He sighs and lets his thumb fall away from his phone, like he’s also done every night for five months. Maybe one day soon he’ll press the connect button. He thinks he’s almost ready.

Chapter Twelve

Kurt is bored. There is no way around it. He doesn’t want to hear another word about fashion marketing. He wants to go home and sleep, or eat some cheesecake, or go out for coffee with Rachel. Really anything would beat his current situation.

Kurt loves school. He really does. But he’s getting a little bit of senior-itis at the moment. It’s his last year of school and he’s kind of done with the whole thing. He wants to be graduated and starting the next phase of his life. And while he doesn’t know exactly what the next phase of his life is going to look like, he finds thinking about it exciting...as opposed to whatever it is his professor is droning on about. He is not excited about that right now.

Finally, mercifully, his class is dismissed and he packs his bag and puts his jacket on, already texting Rachel to see if she’s free for coffee.

His attention is on his phone as he exits the NYU building and he doesn’t notice until too late when his body collides with another at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, instantly.

He looks up to make eye contact with who he hit, and his breath instantly catches in his throat. Those eyes, those eyes that he would know anywhere at anytime no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen them in person (five months, three weeks, and six days - but who’s counting?) are currently staring back at him.

Attached to those eyes is a smiling mouth, but that’s all Kurt gets a chance to catalogue before he’s being ‘attacked’ by a set of arms around his throat, “Kurt!”

Kurt chuckles in both confusion and delight as he brings his arms up around Bethany, “Hey Annie!” He says, still looking at Blaine who is still looking at him with a smile, his chin slightly obscured by a soft looking scarf wrapped around his neck and inside the blue winter jacket he’s wearing.

“We wanted to surprise you!” Bethany says as she lets him go and moves to stand back next to Blaine.

Kurt chuckles, “Well, I’m definitely surprised.” 

Blaine chuckles as well, “Do you...have time for a walk? A coffee?” He asks.

Kurt nods, “Yeah, just let me text Rachel quickly. We were going to meet for coffee.”

“Oh, don’t let us change your plans.” Blaine says, but Kurt waves him off.

“It’s no big deal. I’m...so happy you’re here.” He says for lack of any other articulate way of telling Blaine how amazing it is that he’s standing here now.

Blaine nods and smiles as Kurt quickly texts Rachel that he won’t be able to make it after all and then the trio begin to make their way through the streets toward Washington Square Park.

-- -- --

Blaine had debated whether this was a good idea. Well, debated and talked to Diana and Burt and Carole about it ad nauseum. But when all three of them confirmed that this was a good, if not great idea, he’d decided to just go for it. He’d made arrangements, told Bethany’s school she’d be out for a few days, postponed his lessons, and here they are. In New York City. Keeping the visit a surprise from Kurt had been a debate in and of itself, but Blaine had breathed a little easier at the look on Kurt’s face when he’d seen them.

“So, what brings you to New York?” Kurt asks as they walk the park with their coffees (hot chocolate for Bethany).

“Uhhhh a lot of things actually.” Blaine says, not sure where or how to start. He should have rehearsed what he wanted to say.

Kurt nods, “Well, I meant what I said, I’m really happy you guys are here.”

Blaine smiles, “We’re happy to be here, too.”

Bethany turns around from where she’d been walking in front of them a little ways and nods at them, confirming her own happiness. Blaine gives her a look and she nods again and smiles at him before pulling out her earbuds and sticking them in her ears. She continues to walk ahead and take in the sights around her, but Blaine knows she can’t hear them and he’s thankful to her for the privacy.

Kurt doesn’t seem to notice the exchange, and as Blaine turns back to look at him he can tell Kurt is trying to act calm and natural but he also knows that this must be more than a little shocking to Kurt after almost six months of no contact.

He owes Kurt an explanation, he’s just not sure how to order that explanation. Again, he berates himself for not planning a speech.

“Did your Dad tell you I started taking music at school?” He starts and Kurt startles slightly at the abruptness.

He seems to recover quickly though, nodding his head, “He did. He also told me you’re teaching music to kids?”

Blaine nods, “Yeah. It’s amazing. Watching them finally figure out a piece or understand music theory? It’s great.”

Kurt smiles, “That’s amazing.” He says.

Blaine nods and takes a deep breath, “That actually...is part of the reason why we’re here.” He gestures forward to Bethany, who is currently dancing as she walks to the music in her ears, and he pauses a moment to smile at his sister’s back.

Kurt furrows his brow, “Oh?” He asks.

Blaine takes another deep breath, “Yeah. I’ve, uh, switched my major to music and after talking with Bethany and my therapist...and Burt and Carole...I’ve...applied to NYU for the spring semester.”

Kurt stops walking.

Blaine walks ahead of him a few steps before doubling back. He keeps an eye on Bethany as she, too, stops and looks at the art from a vendor further up, but his main attention is on Kurt who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Kurt? Are you okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt seems to shakes himself out of his trance and looks to Blaine, “You...you what?”

“I applied to NYU for the spring semester.” Blaine reiterates, “And...I was accepted.”

Kurt blinks at him, owlishly, and Blaine wonders if he somehow broke Kurt’s brain, or if Kurt is so against the idea that he’s speechless.

“And while this doesn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with you.” Blaine continues, “I...wanted to let you know in case…” He trails off and Kurt looks at him with wide eyes.

“In case what?” He asks breathlessly.

“In case you WANTED it to have something to do with you.” Blaine finishes lamely.

Kurt swallows, “I need to sit down.” He says.

Blaine immediately looks around for a bench but Kurt shakes his head, “Not here. Can we...go back to my place? I need to be warm and in a comfy chair.”

Blaine nods, “Of course.” He says. He gestures to Bethany who walks over to them, pulling her earbuds out.

“We’re going to head to Kurt’s for a bit.” He tells her and she nods, her eyes flickering to Kurt’s silent white face every few seconds. Blaine turns to Kurt who is staring off into the middle distance, “You’re going to have to lead the way.” Blaine says and Kurt once again shakes himself out of whatever stupor he’s in, nods and leads the pair to the street where he hails a cab.

Blaine wishes he could read how Kurt is feeling but he’s lost and the entire way to Kurt’s apartment he tries to brace himself for this going badly.

He tries to remind himself that he doesn’t need Kurt to be happy. That he is whole and worthy of happiness all on his own, but he can’t help but feel like Kurt’s refusal would be a blow to the progress he’s made.

He tries to be present in the moment though, like Diana had taught him, and looks out the window with Bethany as they slowly make their way through traffic.

-- -- --

Kurt’s apartment is small but perfectly Kurt. It’s furnished with eclectic furniture and the colour pallete is deep and warm. Blaine unwinds his scarf and takes off his jacket, handing it to Kurt to put away as he takes in the pictures on Kurt’s wall.

His breath catches when he sees a picture of himself, Kurt, and Bethany from their senior year. It had been taken at an ice rink around Christmas time and Bethany had been standing between the pair with her arms wrapped around each of them. All three have huge smiles on their faces. Blaine feels his heart warm at the fact that Kurt would have such a picture in his home and he feels hope begin to build once again.

“Bethany, why don’t you take my laptop and watch Netflix in my room?” Kurt says, handing her the device and she goes without complaint, smiling at the pair before disappearing into the room Kurt indicates.

Kurt gestures for Blaine to take a seat on the couch and he takes it while Kurt sits on the other side. They look at each other and then away, a sudden nervous, awkward energy around them.

“So...tell me again?” Kurt asks eventually.

Blaine recounts his decision to apply to NYU after deciding it’s where he felt he and Bethany would get the most benefit. He tells Kurt about how moving near the end of Bethany’s eighth grade year wasn’t ideal but she’d start high school in New York so it was as close to perfect timing as they could get. He tells Kurt that while Kurt was one of the reasons they’d decided on New York he wasn’t the ONLY reason and how that, according to his therapist, was an important factor in this being the right decision.

“So what I’m saying,” Blaine says finally after explaining himself, “is that I’m ready to give us a try. If you still are, I mean.”

He’s done a lot of talking. And Kurt’s done a lot of listening. But now Blaine stops and looks expectantly at Kurt.

Kurt is looking back at him with a partially shell-shocked expression, and Blaine has to force himself not to keep rambling. He wants to give Kurt the chance to think about this. For all Blaine knows, Kurt is seeing someone else, and while that would hurt, Blaine knows he’ll be okay. He’d like Kurt in his life and if the only way he can get him is friendship...he’ll be okay.

Kurt is quiet for so long that Blaine starts to feel slightly awkward. He starts to think maybe he should suggest he and Bethany leave and let Kurt think about it on his own, until Kurt once again shakes himself from his thoughts and turns to look at Blaine.

“I am so sorry.” He says.

Blaine furrows his brow. Sorry? For what?

But before he can ask, Kurt is continuing, “I am so sorry for how we broke up.” Blaine inhales sharply, “I was dumb and selfish and *such* an idiot and you did not deserve that.”

“It’s…” Blaine starts but Kurt interrupts him with a wave of his hand.

“No, it’s not okay.” He says, “I...have spent the last three years trying to tell myself you’d never take me back and that I was over you but...I was never over you.”

“So, what are you saying?” Blaine asks, breathlessly.

Kurt reaches forward and takes his hand, “I’m saying that I’m sorry and that if you’ll have me...I would love to make up for lost time and love you the way I should have all those years ago.”

Blaine feels tears pool in  his eyes and he can’t seem to catch his breath. He had prepared himself for this not ending well. He hadn’t prepared himself for this.

“So...will you have me?” Kurt asks.

Blaine looks deep into Kurt’s eyes, eyes he’s loved longer than he’s known Kurt’s name, and smiles, “Of course. If you’ll have me...well...us.” He says, gesturing to Kurt’s bedroom door behind which Bethany sits.

Kurt lets out a wet laugh and pulls Blaine to him, “For as long as you’ll let me.” He whispers before sealing his mouth to Blaine’s in a kiss.

Blaine’s last thought before he can focus on nothing but the mouth on his and the hands on his body is he hopes Kurt’s okay with the idea of forever. Because, right now, that’s how long he envisions this lasting.

The End

[r00en]

Still Good Chapter 5

Calculated Competition

All Might / Reader, Slight Aizawa / Reader 

Aizawa never did like All Might but he always kept things professional at the very least with the occasional cold behavior and rude attitude, but this might be pushing it.

(Listen, lemmy self indulge in two hot guys fighting over the same girl but in dumb slow burn ways okay!?

EDITED: For all the horrible mistakes, it was bugging me) 

Absolutely nothing could ruin All Mights day today. He had woken up with a smile and carried it through is morning routine. Even humming a bit as he packed is boring lunch and snacks for the day and shoved a few rice crackers in his mouth while changing. Standing in front of the mirror he tried his best to adjust the lopsided tie that hung lose around his neck, fix the drooping shoulders of his pinstripe suit and make sure his belt was tight enough to keep his pants snug on his skinny hips. His cheeks burned slightly as he tried to smooth out his hair only to watch it spring back into place. Useless. Why was he suddenly so worried about how he looked? 'Because there are millions of other good looking, younger men out there for her to pick from....'

That may have been true but so far she had shown no issue with his current look at all. He wasn't dirty at the very least. He could take pride in that much. And his cloths had to be baggy otherwise they would rip right off him each time he powered up. He couldn't carry around different pairs of clothing each time he wanted to, waste time changing back and forth. This was practical. Still...he felt stupid suddenly worrying about this sort of thing so late in the game. Is that what it was like for young men every day? Was it going to be like this for him from now on? The thought had him sulking a bit until he mind kindly reminded him of the cute, sweet, young nurse waiting for him at the coffee shop. Even the creepiness of that thought couldn't keep the smile from his face. Glancing down at his phone he nearly had a heart attack. He was going to be late! He already missed the first train that would get him there early, and now the second that would drop him right on time.

"Holy, stinking, super crap!" He was out the door so fast he would have to apologies to his neighbors for slamming the door hard enough to rock the foundation. With a bit of steam and a loud pop he was sprinting over root tops like his feet were on fire.

Hiding out in a back ally way was his best option to power down. The last thing he needed was reporters following him to school just yet, even less catching him having breakfast with a fellow coworker. No one knew All Might was working at UA. Very few people knew he was in town to stay yet. Low profile was best so he deflated with the rest of the trash, standing awkwardly next to a butcher shops old meat scraps. Fitting. Once he was sure no one saw him sneak in here, nor anyone coming from either direction less he look creepy stalking out of the darkness. Cost was clear and the coffee shop was in sight. And if he squinted real hard he could see his target standing by a few out door tables looking at her phone with worry. This would be the second time he made her wait, a habit he was really hoping he could break soon. Picking up a light job he made his way over. "H-hey sorry I'm late....again. Got held up at the station-" As that beautiful, bubbly face turned to greet him it was over cast by a dark shadow like figure that loomed behind her should like a bad omen. Coming into clear focus as he stopped just short of the two.

"The number one can't even have the manners to show up on time...can't say I'm surprised...." That sullen, annoyed voice. That mess of pitch black hair. Those blood shot angry eyes.

"Ah, Aizawa....what are you..." She answered his question before he managed to mutter it out. Thankfully as Toshi couldn't keep his slightly annoyance from seeping out at his fellow teacher. "Ah, Mr. Aizawa saw me waiting here and came to say hello! He said it's on his way to work every morning isn't that funny?"

Both men started at each other for a moment. Toshi didn't like that smirk he was wearing but was far to polite to do more than cough into his fist. "Yeah? What a coincidence. I had no idea you lived around here." There it was again, that smirk just hidden behind his capture scarf. "Small world. I figured I would grab a cup of coffee with a fellow colleague since I'm here. Catch her up on what's going on from the teachers perspective. Would be nice if we were all on the same page. Less troublesome. But it seems you beat me too it...."  That sounded logical and if it was coming from anyone else; Mic for instance Toshi would have brushed it off with a smile. But this felt wrong. Toshi never mentioned his friendship with the new nurse to anyone save for Young Midoriya who of course had no contact with the teacher at UA. He must have happened on her while heading to work like he said and she mentioned their meet up in casual conversation. Could he be planning something devious? A plan made up on the fly so quickly? Toshi knew he wasn't Aizawa's favorite person. He often made that more than clear during his past meetings. Something about the spotlight rubbed the sullen hero the wrong way and All Might was a spotlight in and of himself. But she didn't look any different even with Aizawa looming behind her like a dark cloud of distaste. She just smiled at him, readjusting her glasses waiting for him to fully join what now seemed to be a group date.

He could deal with this. It wasn't like he planned on confessing to her any time soon, surely not today. He just needed to keep telling himself that this wasn't a date. Who cares if Aizawa was there? He could still talk to her! Swallowing the lump in his throat Toshi spurred forward with a happy, friendly smile.

"Me and ____-chan here are excited to start the school year together...isn't that right?" Toshi watched in horror as Aizawa moved his hand from his pocket to rest it on her head. Rubbing softly like she was some kind of cat. The action seemed to fluster her beyond believe and she held her glowing cheeks with embarrassment. "W-well it's surely an exciting time. With it being my first year living in Japan and working at UA of all places I really hope I can handle it." He was grinning that creepy grin again. She couldn't see from her perspective, head tilted down as she shyly fiddled with her fingers. It was directed at him. Why?! "You'll do fine. You're Recovery Girls own granddaughter, that counts for something. UA is filled with exceptional teachers and staff and you'll be no different." It all sounded so friendly but his tone, it was off.... Since when did Shota Aizawa pep-talk anyone? Let alone in that cheerful voice. "I'll buy you a coffee this time. As a welcome to the school. You don't mind....right All Might?" His voice was dripping with venom and all Toshi could do was nod. "Y-yeah...no problem."

The three made it inside with little to no issue, though Aizawa insisted on keeping himself firmly wedged between the two of them like some odd chaperon. Tossing Toshi rather loaded looks as the ordered and Aizawa payed, though at least he could enjoy the cute way she tried to order her own drink but fumbled with the odd names of coffee she never needed to use before. Toshi turned his head to keep his fellow teacher from seeing the pleased look on his face. Something was up and he wouldn't give Aizawa any more reason to be suspicious. Taking their seats Toshi decided it was best not to put up a fight at all and slid himself across from the two willingly. This was far better for conversation anyway and would have been the arrangement regardless. Rubbing his temple he let out a sigh, he was over thinking things. Aizawa just disliked him and was using this as some odd excuse to make his day harder. That's all this was. It didn't make him feel any better but he couldn't shake the feeling he deserved a bit of this given the circumstances. He was going after someone nearly twice is junior. He was being creepy again...thinking about it like that.

Suddenly she was talking, as if Aizawa wasn't there which put a mildly annoyed look on his face that please Toshi greatly. "So I had some questions about the game show last night. They kept flashing your catch phrase 'I am here' but they kept putting cotton candy around it....is that some sort of inside joke? I don't get it." He grinned, this would surely cement their friendship outside of work and put Aizawa off his teasing. "It's not that complicated, you see if you write out the phrase it's only a few character off from 'It's Cotton Candy!' so from time to time people make the reference." He motioned the kanji in the air as if she could follow though she seems a little lost. "Mmm...we sort of have that in english but the differences in words are not so extreme. Read and read are two different words written the same way but they are close in context. Don't even get me started on 'their'...Present Mic is going to have his work cut out for him. Grandmother said I should try and help with some of the more advanced classes but if I'm honest I'm not really the student type. If I make a mistake teaching kids I'll ruin them for life! No way I can take that responsibility on!"

Toshi wanted to say something like 'You'll make a wonderful teacher' or 'Everything you do is great don't worry!' but Aizawa was glaring at him again and didn't stop even when the waiter brought them their coffee. His was a simple tea, Aizawa apparently liked his black though she had some sort of foaming latte type drink that looked to be more milk than coffee. Just as sweet as she was. "You watched TV together last night?" That cold, spine tingling voice cut through their otherwise cheery cloud of a conversation and both Toshi and her were sent cowering from the angry dark aura drifting it's way closer to them. "A-aha...Toshi stopped by to get some help with his injured side on his way home last night. It was my fault...I offered him dinner and it would have been rude for him to say no. We ended up just watching TV and talking through most of the night. He had to explain so many things to me on the programs that I think I kinda ruined some of them..." She was shyly pulling at the wrapper of her straw and smiling at him from behind the rim of her glasses. As if the memory was enjoyable even if it was so recent. Aizawa made a 'tsk' sound and slumped forward.

"Didn't know you two were already so friendly, already on to first names... Moving a bit fast aren't you All Might?" They both sat confused for a moment trying to determine their colleagues motives and attitude. Toshi knew him as always standoffish and moody but this was something else. Only the sound of a rather loud and rather peppy ring ton cut through the tension at the table like a chirping knife. Scrambling for her phone she took one glance at the screen and waved her hand at Aizawa "S-sorry I need to take this do you mind?" While he looked like he most certainly did mind he did the decent thing a stood, only enough that she was still forced to brush most of her body against him as she pulled herself from the booth and headed to the door. Both men staring each other down during the whole ordeal until the fellow teacher flopped down with a grunt. "Don't tell me you like them younger..."

Toshi felt like someone dumped ice water over his head. He sputtered out a bit of his tea and took the excuse to hide his face behind his napkin. "I-I'm sorry I don't think I follow you." That earned him a glare. "You're not stupid so don't act like it. She might think it's cute but I don't." Toshi sat up a little straighter, leveling his own glare at the dark haired man. "I couldn't care less what you do with your time or your title All Might, but going after another employee seems a bit close to home even for you. Couldn't you just pick up any of your fans? Keep your privet business off school property? It would be troublesome if it came down on the school or you started drama between coworkers...." Toshi clenched his fists in his lap. Aizawa was always blunt but this was bordering on rude. Still he wasn't really 'wrong'. Mislead, condescending and indecent but not wrong.  The thoughts swirling around inside Toshi were confusing yes but they were also honest. He didn't choose to feel this way and truth be told he wasn't even sure what he was feeling. It was all so new for him in so many different ways and the confrontation about them so harshly put was jarring. But he knew how he felt, and he hoped he knew how she felt. Glancing outside he watched her happily chat away on her phone. Cupping her mouth and speaking softly as people walked by as to not be rude. Once she caught him staring she smiled and gave him a little wave and he was sure he saw her cheeks paint a light pink. That smile meant the world to him and he would be damned if anyone, even a 'friend' was going to take that away from him.

Turning back to a pissed off looking Aizawa he cleared his throat. "I'm not sure what you know...how much she told you but if you think my interest in her is indecent...." he would be right, the dream he had last night was the epitome of it "Not that it's any of your business," He added, taking a sip of his tea for good measure. "...we are friends above all else. I offered to help her during her time at UA and we both enjoy each others company. I can't help but wonder what it matters to you Aizawa, it's not like you to poke around in other peoples business." If Toshi didn't know any better he could have sworn he saw a blush flash across the sullen mans face. Ever so slightly hidden as he scrunched down and used his scarf as a shield. "She wouldn't shut up about you..." Aizawa muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets so he could lounge back against the booth. "The second she saw me she told me she was meeting you and she had this 'look'...she's my age All Might...." Now he sounded like a protective older brother and Toshi couldn't find it in him to be angry about that. "And you're the symbol of peace. Think about her...your spot light comes with risks and pressure. And I wasn't just blowing smoke about the schools image. If this goes down wrong-" Toshi held up a hand and surprisingly it stopped his little speech. "If that's your concern I can assure you both of us are consenting adults. Nothing has gone on between us that is any of your concern...but has been nothing more than friendly."

Aizawa gave him a look that spilled over into disbelief. The way they looked at each other was not just on friendly terms. Even with all his intrusive behavior, blunt conversation and general looming presence the two of them oozed a level of chemistry Aizawa had never seen before. At least not in person. It was kind of disgusting to watch the great All Might all glassy eyed and smitten even in his weak state. And she was no better. It was easy to fluster her truth be told. He learned that the first day they met when he stood a bit too close to her and glared down at her trying to give off his 'just leave me alone' attitude without words. She all but hid behind her clip board and shuffled behind her tiny grandma for support. The great Paladin who could take a beating better than any pro hero on the market was out done by personal space and eye contact. Though he was loathed to admit it these two idiots were made for each other. She also had a pension for sticking her nose in other peoples emotional business, and from the way All Might carried himself the man needed a good scream cry or two.

Giving a shrug as if he was indifferent to his words Aizawa stood from his spot and started to lumber away. "I won't make this easy for you All Might. You haven't needed to fight for anything in a while...so call it a strategical test of will." His eyes wild and blown wide as he stared back at the number one hero, all teeth and unease. "You'll have to fight for it like the rest of us." And with that cryptic message he was off and out the door. She stopped him as he tried to sneak away and earned herself another head pat but it seemed like little else as Toshi watched his fellow teacher stalk off to towards the school. What the hell was that suppose to mean 'fight for it'? Wasn't that what he was already doing. Losing sleep and suffering though what he could only assume was cardiac arrest each time he had to so much as talk to her? It had only been a day since he even admitted his own feelings to himself and already he apparently had some twisted rivalry with a fellow teacher. Did that mean Aizawa had feeling for the new nurse too? Did they spend time together outside of work as well? Too many thoughts buzzed around inside his head and he downed his cooling tea in one gulp out of frustration.

"Sorry about that! Grandma needed some information on the applying student files I organized the other day. I messed up and forgot that here you guys use last names more often than first...." she was flustered but otherwise seemed normal. Sliding back into her seat but this time directly across from him. "My first real day as a nurse and it will be a seriously dangerous entrance exam. Talk about stressful. And speaking of what was up with Mr. Aizawa? He normally acts like he can't stand to be around me....strange change, maybe he fell out of bed this morning and hit his head..." the image was enough to make them both chuckle.

Toshi carefully, and oh so slowly reached out and brushed his fingers across her hand that was resting on the table. "Don't worry about either of them. You'll do great, you're more than qualified and your put your heart in everything you do. I'm sure those kids will be in good hands. Besides the entrance exam wasn't too bad for me when I started out." She suddenly had this funny look on her face. Puffy cheeks and glittering eyes. "Oh geez I wonder what a young Toshi looked like back then. I bet you were super tall right? Like much taller than your classmates?" she teased and it caused him to blush as it always did. "Something like that. I didn't look like this I can tell you that much...." "Ohh like a meat head? You know all buff and strong like your hero form?" She tried to pose and flex her arm a bit and it worked in getting him to laugh along with her. "Nothing like that...I'll see if I can dig up some old pictures. Young Midoriya would love that I'm sure...."

With that they both lulled into a quiet conversation about Midoriya's training, her own work with Recovery Girl, the day ahead filled with filing papers and filling out forums. Anything and everything. And as they spoke they leaned closer and closer to each other until to the outside world it looked far more like a date than either of them intended. Their hands still brushed close on the table.