#gettin close to the end of the month now.. also a sign of my holiday ehehe yeah!!!!

[spiderware]

Day 27 - comfort

[violetwolfraven]

Peace and Joy

@spot-king-of-brooklyn I’m your secret Santa! @newsies-secretsanta

You said your favorite ships are sprace and/or javid and you’re good with pretty much anything so I’m gonna write two separate vaguely holiday-related oneshots in the reincarnation AU. Don’t worry though nothing heavy, just fluff. No COVID because I’ve had enough of that dude and I say so. Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Tw: referenced past period-typical homophobia.

...

Spot couldn’t remember being this happy... ever. Not in the early 1900s or in the early 2000s.

Well, the closest he could think of was 1902, when he and Race moved on from being newsies and from being leaders of their respective boroughs and rented that old apartment in Brooklyn together. But that had been muted by the need to be careful. They couldn’t be normal young people in love because they always had to hide.

And that was fine at the time because it was expected. It was them doing whatever it took to be together not knowing they’d ever get the chance to do it another way.

Now, in the bright, beautiful, forward-thinking 21st century, they could be safe. They could be in love without fear of the consequences. They could go out Christmas shopping together, and Spot didn’t know if that counted as a date, but it kind of felt like one as he watched his boyfriend bop a little to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You as he looked around.

He ended up having to look away before he started blushing too hard. Even if he wasn’t the King of Brooklyn this time, he still had a bit of a reputation as a stone cold badass. For all he knew, one or more of their more mischievous friends could be spying on them right now. And besides, this thrift store probably had stuff he could get the few Brooklyn kids who’d come back, too.

He was still deciding if Hotshot would think it was funny if he got him a tank top that said ‘hot stuff’ on it. The others would find it funny, but Spot honestly wasn’t sure if it would make his former second uncomfortable.

“Hey, Spottie, ya think my little brother would like this?”

Spot turned back to see Race holding up a bright purple worm on a string, but a giant version of one. One that was big enough to be a scarf.

“Knowin’ your family,” he admitted, “I think any of ‘em would be happy to get one of those.”

It was true. Honestly, the most sensible Larkin brother was the second-oldest, Crutchie, but Spot could still see him proudly wearing a worm-on-a-string-scarf to school after winter break ended.

Besides him, Medda, Race’s mom, tended to embrace whatever unique fashion choice she could find. And Jack, of course, didn’t let being the oldest of four stop him from being a theatrical little shit who liked drawing attention to himself.

And Romeo was somehow even more eccentric than Race, so he would definitely like that thing.

Race grinned, “I’m gonna get Ro a worm scarf for Christmas.”

“Your family is ridiculous.”

“Thank you. So, what’re ya gettin’ for Denton?”

Oh, shit. Spot had completely forgotten about getting anything for Denton.

He really should get something for him. After all, the teacher hadn’t even known Spot when Jack asked if he could stay with him. All he’d needed to know was that Spot needed a place to hide from his terrible parents and couldn’t stay with the Larkins, mostly because Medda had a strict rule about her boys’ partners sleeping over unless it was absolutely necessary. (it was also because Spot couldn’t think of anyone he’d want to live with less than Jack Kelly, but Denton didn’t really need to know that, did he?)

So far, Spot’s parents hadn’t shown any signs of missing him, and Spot couldn’t decide if that hurt or not, but it barely mattered anymore.

Because Denton didn’t really have any rules beyond ‘do your homework’, ‘take a shower occassionally’, and ‘if you leave the house, let me know where you’re going.’ He helped Spot pick out a Halloween costume, let him spend Thanksgiving with Race, and gave him money for Christmas shopping. He was fine with Spot being gay and having a boyfriend, even if there was an added rule with that of ‘you can’t have the door closed if you’re alone in your room with Race.’

He gave Spot space, but also made it clear that he could come to him for anything he needed help with. He never hit him, never pushed when Spot wanted to be alone, never even raised his voice unless they were in an already-loud room and he needed to get his attention.

In short, in only a few months, he’d become the best adult Spot had ever had in his life. He wasn’t his father, but he was closest thing Spot had ever gotten to a dad.

The Denton they’d known in their last life had been kind of like that, too. He’d helped as best he could whenever one of the newsies got into trouble, always being there for anyone who needed him since Kath first introduced her new reporter friend to her newsie friends. Of course, Spot hadn’t been living with Denton then, so he’d never really thought about it.

“What do you even get a middle-aged man for Christmas?”

Race shrugged, “Power tools?”

The idea of getting Denton power tools was so ridiculous that they both laughed.

“Uh... he’s a writer,” Race pointed out, “So... fancy pens?”

“Fancy pens? We’re at a thrift store, Racer.”

“Well we don’t gotta stay here forever. There’s a Barnes and Noble across the street.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, but Spot wasn’t sure about the whole ‘fancy pen’ thing. It seemed a little generic.

“Yooooo! Spot, check this out for Jack!”

He was holding up a bright blue sketchbook that said ‘Sketchy Bitch’ on the cover.

“Oh yeah, ya definitely have to get that for Cowboy.”

Spotting (no pun intended) something else on the shelf behind him, Spot grinned.

He had the perfect thing to get for the man who’d taken him in.

...

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ awesome.”

Davey snorted, “You’re way too excited ‘bout this, Jackie.”

He loved his boyfriend, but he had a tendency to get overenthusiastic about things.

Well, he loved that about Jack, too. And he loved being able to call him his boyfriend, now. That they didn’t need to hide this time.

He and Sarah had both been a little worried about their parents’ reaction, but it had turned out to be for nothing. They’d each gotten a t-shirt with their respective pride flag for the first night of Hanukkah, and Jack and Kath were always welcome to come over as long as at least one parent was home.

Davey loved Jack just as much in this lifetime as he had in his first, but it was different, not having to hide it. It was good different, but definitely different. Being able to be who they were and be in love and knowing that it was generally frowned upon to be homophobic now, at least where they lived.

And being able to do random shit that was romantic and fun as hell, but not something would even occur to most people to do.

After a sleepy conversation once Crutchie, Race, and Romeo had fallen asleep watching White Christmas (which Davey appreciated for the choreography in the dance numbers) one time about how there weren’t really any Hanukkah movies, Jack had collaborated with Kath to write a lesbian Hanukkah musical romcom to post to YouTube.

Objectively, it wasn’t that great. It was good for a movie made by a bunch of high school juniors, but they couldn’t afford good cameras or microphones or anything. Plus, it was appealing to a very niche audience, so Davey doubted this movie would get more than twenty views.

Still, it meant a lot that Jack was so excited about it, that he was working so hard on props and editing in the lighting and music for it so Kath and Saz could play Jewish lesbians fake-dating at a holiday party who fall in love. It was cute.

“It ain’t gonna win any awards,” Jack admitted, “But I think we’s got somethin’ good here!”

“We do,” Davey agreed.

Was he actually talking about the romcom starring his sister and her girlfriend? Partially. It was a pretty good movie for something produced by teenagers.

But they had something good there that wasn’t on the screen of Jack’s laptop, too.

Jack seemed to share those thoughts, with the way he was smiling.

“What’s with the look, mi amor?”

Davey rolled his eyes as the other boy put his arm around his waist.

“Like you don’t know, love,” he chuckled, “Remember the last time we did somethin’ like this? And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’”

“Shh,” Jack shook his head, “Nope. We don’t talk about the latkes incident.”

“You mean when you almost burned down our tiny little kitchen trying to—“

“We don’t talk about it!”

Davey laughed. It was funny, how Jack couldn’t, in any lifetime, cook anything more complicated than like... chili or stew. While he could make something edible, he couldn’t make anything that was really considered good.

“Davey, love, luz de mi vida, it was literally over a hundred years ago, so stop. Bringin’. Up. The. Latkes. Incident!”

He punctuated the sentence by hitting Davey with one of his mom’s throw pillows.

“Okay, Jackie, I get it! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine,” Jack grinned, “I ain’t almost burned down a kitchen in over a century, babe. I thinks that’s a good record to have.”

“Most people never almost burn down a kitchen,” Davey pointed out, “I know I—wait, did you just call me ‘babe’?”

Jack was definitely not meeting his eyes to try to hide how he was blushing, “Uh... is that okay?”

Davey smirked. Jack didn’t get flustered that often, but it was adorable when he did.

And even if he had almost burned down their apartment, it had been cute back then, how he’d tried so hard to try to do something nice for Davey for the holiday season. It was cute now, too.

That was one thing that hadn’t changed through the decades, he guessed.

“It’s definitely okay, babe.”

...

“Spot, is this a... ‘Best Dad In The World’ mug?”

“...if you cry, I’m outta here.”

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

IF You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 5

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character,

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

March 2015

“You’ll see me two times in three weeks,” Victoria smiled, wine in hand as she settled in the seat beside Sonny. It was Tommy and Bella’s engagement party, which Gianni was treating as a bridal shower. The whole engagement would only have been three months, and it seemed the two younger Carisis had cost her the months of parties and planning Gina and Teresa had given her. At least Sonny and Victoria had gotten married in a church a year after they eloped. Tommy and Bella would be getting married outdoors, while she was pregnant. Everyone pretended not to notice the slightest bit of a bump, easily confused for weight gain if you didn’t know, when Gianna was around before fussing over Bella the minute she left.

“I’m a lucky bastard.”

“I hope you told your squad.”

“We’re all going out the Saturday before. I’m doing it then.”

“Really pushed it off, huh?” she asked, and he didn’t like the hurt she was trying to hide. 

“The cases got heavy during the holidays. And then we busted up a sex ring and I was undercover. That also felt like a weird time. I kinda realized there wasn’t going to be a good one.”

“Yeah. Tommy and Bella inviting them kinda twisted your arm, huh?”

“Yeah. But it’s good. The last step.”

“They all coming?”

“Olivia for sure. I think Rollins and Amaro are coming together, and then honestly? Barba will when he finds out there’s gossip. He’s kind of a dick, but an amazing attorney. I really wanna shadow him sometime, but I’m too green to ask, y’know?”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be nice when the time comes. And I think it’ll make Bella and Tommy happy. If it weren’t for them, it coulda been bad.”

“I got brother brain instead of cop brain, so yeah. I still can’t believe she’s having a baby.”

“It’s wild. And I know you don’t like Tommy, but he’s got a good heart.”

“And got locked up.”

“Everyone has their own problems.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Same deal as Gina’s wedding? No marriage problems talk. Just have fun and be sentimental.”

“Deal. Though if your squad asks, I’m not ignoring it.”

“Fair. But also tell the cute stories.”

“I’ll bring the photo albums.” He laughed, arm settled around her shoulders. When they’d moved out, she’d taken to collecting all the pictures of them and adding them to a photo album. She’d gotten copies of dozens of pictures from his mom, who had always kept them organized by year in boxes. When she left, Victoria took them, and he missed being able to thumb through the pages. There were multiple volumes at this point. The pages got harder to find. She didn’t scrapbook. Instead, she used the pages with four slots each, keeping them up as time went on. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were pictures from Gina’s wedding in the most recent. Maybe there were even pictures of them separate from each other to bridge the gap. 

“Please don’t give Rollins and Barba that ammo. They’ll steal the really bad ones.”

“I like the ones from prom the best. Could we look any more 2004?”

“We looked damn good.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not super dated.”

“True. It’s okay. We got the pictures from Gina’s wedding. We don’t look like we’re separated in them.”

“True. You got the dimples on full display.”

“I seen the dresses Bella picked. I know you hate it. You won’t like this one so much.”

“I love it.” He raised a brow at the feigned enthusiasm. “Dom, that pink is gonna be so bad on a pale red head.”

“I like you in pink.”

“You like me in anything.”

“Because you look good in anything. Dark green’s my favorite though.”

“Mine too. Thank God for Gina. I’ll wear that dress again.”

“I’m sure I’ll have to go to some fundraising thing…”

“You asking me to be your date before you even know?”

“You’re always who I ask to be my date.”

“I better be. We’re married.”

“Gettin’ awful territorial, Mrs. Carisi.”

“You put your ring on your hand today.”

“And you put them both on the right finger.”

“It’s almost like we’re making progress.”

“I want to tell you. I’m ready. But not until after the wedding.”

“Why then?”

“In case you don’t look at me all happy anymore.”

“Literally nothing you could tell me could make me not want to work on it. Unless you cheated on me.”

“You’re the first, last, and only.”

“You are too.”

“We oughta stop being sappy. People are coming and we got put with people we don’t know.”

“Gross. It’s like ma is mad at me.”

“I’m just glad she knew better than to try and make us sit apart. I’m sittin’ with my wife.”

“You two aren’t even pretending to be awkward,” Bella teased, leaning to hug Victoria and then her brother. “This nonsense almost over?”

“Butt out,” Sonny warned, but he was still smiling. “Strictly married talk.” 

“Two weeks and ya can’t use that excuse.”

“Then it’ll be strictly talks with my wife.”

“Stop, Dom,” Victoria laughed. “You look beautiful, Bella. How you feeling?”

“Kid’s making me tired as hell. I’m excited though. Tommy talks to her every night. It’s been hard, after what that bitch did. But he’s doing so good.”

“I can tell. I’m just glad you’re so happy.”

“I really am, T.” 

“You look beautiful. I like this dress a lot.”

“Thanks. I like feeling all bridal.” Sonny was content to watch Bella and Victoria catch up. Over the last year, he’d come to realize every time they talked came around to when Victoria was taking him back. He probably hadn’t helped that any, constantly acting like he didn’t know why she’d gone. Thanksgiving had changed that. He stood up to his mom more, told her he was in therapy, and openly defended Victoria. The last part wasn’t new, but this time it was specific to her decision to leave. He’d told his family in no uncertain terms that, while he thought she should’ve told him earlier instead of letting the hurt fester, he had done something wrong and he was trying to fix that so they could start over. His mom and dad didn’t like that. Generationally, bottling up feelings was more acceptable to them. His sisters, on the other hand, hugged him tight and told him they were proud of him. 

Their table filled up quickly as guests arrived, and Sonny was happy to help Victoria keep conversation moving until his parents spoke. That was the plan for tonight. Appetizers, speeches from the bride and groom’s parents, dinner, dessert, and finally dancing and cocktails. It was quickly apparent all the family’s required-but-barely-liked invites went to the table they’d put Victoria and Sonny at, a sure sign Gianna was over dealing with their drama. He was thankful his sister wouldn’t be having assigned seating at the reception for anyone, the bridal party included, though the thought of having Victoria joining his squad at a table made him nervous.

“I thought they’d never go dance,” she said softly against his ear, and Sonny smiled more from the closeness than the sentiment. Damn, it felt good to have her on his team. She wasn’t there day in and out, so these events felt more valuable to him now.

“Right? He’s from dad’s work. Known each other forever. I don’t know why the hell they invited him.” Her hair tickled his cheek as they gossiped, watching the people around the room and nursing their drinks. He decided they didn’t have a heavy case, so he’d tell the squad the next day, that way the giddiness of the evening would still be fresh. When they’d both finished their drinks, he took her hand, pulling her towards the floor. 

“I was comfy,” she protested half heartedly before she realized he’d pulled her up for Sinatra. One hand on his shoulder and the other in his, she let him lead the few moves they’d learned in a ballroom class they’d taken. It had only been a couple years into their marriage, and they took it because it made them feel older and less like imposters. Now, all either could really remember was a boxstep, and their frame was terrible. That didn’t matter though. What did matter was Sonny resting his temple against hers to sing softly against her ear. When one swing tune melted into another, she was grateful Gianna had picked the music for this wedding event. 

“Looks like we get to dance all slow again,” he teased, giving her a spin before holding her close.

“For someone getting mad when we get along, your ma worked real hard for us to get along.”

“She’s just mad it isn’t like when we were kids. If we fought in middle school, she’d give us a pizza, and we’d be over it.”

“Very true,” she grinned, looking up at him. He looked handsome, and after what came out to two years of seeing him deteriorate, she was grateful he was actually getting back to himself. She wasn’t sure if therapy, the job, or the slow progress they were making was the reason, but he was her Sonny again. He kept his hair cropped, face shaved, and smile present.

“You’re staring,” he teased before tightening his grip to dip her. 

“You look good. Like not just handsome. Happy.”

“Thanks,” he smiled softly when he pulled her up again. “I’m learning to process stuff better.”

“That’s good.”

“It sounds messed up, but thank you for leaving. It made me go to therapy. I really wasn’t being good to you, Tor. And I’m sorry for that.”

“I forgive you, Dom. I wasn’t doing a good job talking to you about it. I’m sorry for not pressing until we hit the point of no return.”

“It’s okay,” he said, forehead resting on hers. “I think we’re gonna be okay.”

“Me too.”

“Can we get somebody to take pictures of us?” 

“Bella got a photographer, and he has definitely taken several.”

“This camera shy Sonny or detective Sonny noticing?”

“It’s Sonny seeing Gina tell him to.”

“You ever feel like the kids are trying to get us back together?”

“All the time, doll. You know how often Gina or Teresa go after me? Then Bella meddles. But Mia? She’s 17 and bound and determined she’s going to be the one to talk sense into me. And she kind of is. She actually talked to me about therapy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t know why but knows my brain shuts down when I try to open up. Heard me tellin Teresa. Said it’s toxic masculinity makin’ me feel like talking about feelings is girly and I gotta get over that if I wanna stay married and making you happy.”

“I ever tell you Mia’s my favorite?”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“How long until we can run away and go to a bar?”

“Anybody else left yet?”

“Your cousin Lauren and some of Bella’s friends.”

“What bar you thinking? Because you look too pretty to not take to some classy wine bar.”

“That works for me.”

“Then let’s go tell Bella and Tommy bye.”

“What about Gianna?”

“It’s not her engagement.” Victoria almost felt like they were back in high school and cutting class as they said their goodbyes and got their coats. Why the hell his sister was getting married outdoors in winter was beyond Victoria, but she was grateful for the fact they’d probably end up rained out and inside for the ceremony. Sonny hailed a cab, waving when he saw his mother watching them from a window. 

“She’s pissed, Dom.”

“Too bad. Taking you to a nice wine bar. Ordering a cheese board.”

“You’re making it sound like a date.”

“I been shit and ain’t taken you on one in two years. Can it be?”

“I’d like that.” She was nervous, but it had become apparent he was trying. From what he said, in a couple weeks he’d be willing to open up. He was also communicating with her as it was. Maybe treating the next two weeks as a trial run could be good. Ease into the heavy discussion. He’d mentioned being afraid how she’d react. Maybe if she was always there again, he’d realize she wasn’t leaving. 

“C’mon, whatcha thinking Tor?”

“Just that I’m happy we’re making progress,” she fibbed, lacing their fingers. He looked to their hands and smiled, squeezing her fingers gently. 

“Me too.” Soon enough they were settled at the bar, and Sonny, true to his word, had ordered a bottle of wine and a cheese board. She was turned to face him, legs carefully crossed. He had the leg towards the room on the footrest around the base of her stool. She was boxed in, but it felt reassuring when paired with his hand on her leg. 

“So what’s this new squad like?” Sonny had never quite settled in anywhere since he’d become a detective, and he seemed smitten with his spot in Manhattan. 

“So Barba is the ADA. Covered him. Liv is Lieutenant. Nobody ever really gave me a shot before. Apparently I can be abrasive.” He threw the hand not on her leg up in mock affront, and she laughed. 

“You? Never.”

“I know,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Rollins is cool. She’s been through a lot. She’s from Georgia though. I know you mostly grew up here, but you get that same Southern catty as her. Means it doesn’t get to me, because I know the secret. That she doesn't really mean it. Amaro is cool too. Had some problems too. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I’m acting like they won’t understand or accept our marriage. Fin’s been there longest, other than Lieu.”

“They treating you well?”

“They are. I think I’m finally not just a newbie. Barba gets mean. He’s not southern snarky though, so I think he means it.”

“I’ll fight him.”

“You’d win. He’s got a big mouth, but I don’t think he’d be scrappy.”

“I’m just real proud of you.”

“That means a lot to me, Tor.”

“You worked real hard. I watched that. And you’re going to be an amazing attorney.”

“I think I wanna try for the DA’s office if I pass the bar next year.”

“You’ll pass the bar.”

He rolled his eyes, pouring her another glass of wine as he topped off his own. When the night was over, he walked her to her door, kissing her goodnight and going to his own apartment. Sonny had decided that if it was going to be a date, he’d be a gentleman. Things were still delicate, and he had to leave early when she had a day off. He did text her the next morning to say he’d enjoyed their date, not wanting to have the wedding be the next time they talked. When he arrived at the precinct, he went to Olivia’s door, knocking. 

“What’s going on, Carisi?”

“Since the squad’s coming to my sister’s weddin’ now, I felt like I gotta tell everybody I’m married and it’s really confusing.”

“Since you hadn’t mentioned it, I assumed you were getting a divorce.”

“You knew?”

“I did get sent your file when you started here. You know, I do read those.”

“I messed up bad, y’know? She’s a baker, right? And I’ve known her since I was five. Got married when we were eighteen. It was all good until I got to homicide.” Oliva gave him a sympathetic, knowing smile. “What I told you guys? How the women got to me? I was scared if I told her, I’d, like, tarnish her. Make her see all the bad stuff we see. It’s amazing talking to her, Lieu. She never stopped seeing the best in people. And I stopped acting like her husband because I thought just being close to me would transfer all of it. She left me, but we’re in a weird limbo. She’s in the wedding, and we act married when we see each other. This’ll only be the sixth time in a year and a half. But I don’t want her to meet everyone and they’re all like who the hell are you.”

“This job can make that part of life incredibly difficult, Carisi. I feel the same way sometimes about Noah. What if they take him? What if I’m so paranoid he grows up paranoid? Or god forbid he sees pictures? I try to refocus it. I think about how he can make light in those bad times. I don’t know much about her, but I’m guessing she does too?”

“She does.”

“Tell her, Carisi. If she knows something is wrong, she’ll be able to get through it.”

“I’m telling her after the wedding. My therapist said it might make it less stressful. I’ve been afraid she’ll change her mind when I tell her.”

“It’ll work out. It is a smart idea to make sure everyone knows. Barba’s coming with me, so I’ll make sure he knows and keep him in line.”

“Thanks Lieu. For this whole talk, but also giving me a shot.”

Tag List: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Hot Chocolate (and Goddamn Marshmallows)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~2530

Warnings: It’s SO FLUFFY. Straight up marshmallow fluff. Just a dash of angst for seasoning. Um. No warnings that I can think of. 

A/N: Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for checkin it over. For @katymacsupernatural​ and her 6K Golden challenge! Congrats Katy! 

“I fuckin’ can’t, man, I barely made it here to begin with, Baby was slippin’ all over the place,” Dean grumbles. He holds the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his ear so that he can pour another glass of whiskey. He only has half a bottle; if he can’t get out tomorrow, he’s fucked.

Even aside from the alcohol situation, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He’s supposed to be at Jody’s, drinking eggnog and doing all the Hallmark bullshit with his family, but if the snow doesn’t stop early… well, fuck that, he’ll find a way. He’s gotta make it back for Christmas. 

“The cabin’s still stocked from the last time we were there, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, I won’t starve to death, at least,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice light. It’s the truth, although the cabinets basically contain black beans, a couple packs of ramen, and some skunked beer. Dean won’t starve, but this is just not how he wanted to spend his night. This Christmas was supposed to be different. 

“Still not gonna tell me what was so important up there?” Sam says. 

“Nope.” 

It’s his own fault, really. Sam told him about the Christmas plan a month ago. It had taken Dean a while to figure out where Mom’s stuff had been stored without Sammy realizing what he was up to, and then their last hunt took longer than they’d expected… it was just one thing after another, and he’d been in such a rush to get up here he hadn’t checked the weather forecast. Typical. 

“Fuck,” Sam sighs. “It’s supposed to let up tomorrow, we’ll mount a rescue mission, okay? Donna’s got four wheel drive, I think.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says gruffly, and he clears his throat, trying to sound cheerful. How many Christmases has he spent, now, telling Sam not to worry? It’s a Winchester family tradition. “I’ll figure something out. Give everybody hugs for me. Tell Jody she better save me some of that pork roast.” 

“Love you,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean kinda likes the big goddamn marshmallow who’s replaced his brother lately. Amazing what Eileen and a general lack of apocalypses have done for the kid’s temperament. 

“Love ya, Sammy. See you tomorrow, one way or another. Hey, don’t do it without me, okay?” 

Sam laughs at him. “Obviously. Bye, Dean.” 

Dean hangs up and looks down at the little box on the table. As much as this situation fuckin’ blows, Sam’s reaction is gonna be priceless. 

He opens the box again, peeking for the zillionth time before he slips it into his pocket. It’s still surreal to think about that ring on someone else’s hand. Mom stopped wearing it at some point after she came back, and Sam probably assumes it’s long gone. 

He’d said something about how Eileen’s practical, they talked about it, she doesn’t want him to go out and blow a bunch of money on jewelry, they can pick out the actual bands together when it’s time… but Dean’s pretty fuckin’ excited to see the expression on his face. And hers, of course. Practical as she may be, Eileen’s a goddamn marshmallow too. 

Dean’s happy for Sam, he really is. Sometimes he just feels a little lonely, watching the two of them; must be nice, having someone look at you like that. They just kinda fit. They finish each other’s fuckin’ sentences, sometimes, or sign the same things at the same time, moving in perfect unison, and Sam just smiles so much more than he used to. Dean looks at the way they are together and thinks it looks comfortable, like a warm fuzzy fuckin’ blanket, and he’s only just starting to realize that sometimes… sometimes he gets really cold, is all. Sometimes he could use a little more warm fuzzy in his life. 

Like, hey, now, for example. He shivers and drains the last of his glass, pours himself a fresh one, and then he shakes off the melancholy and goes to get a fire started. 

There’s no cable, or anything, but they hooked up an old DVD player to an even older TV a couple years back. Dean finds a stack of dusty DVD cases and shuffles through them, rolling his eyes at the selection. Love Actually? How the fuck did that end up here? 

Or… huh. Now he thinks about it, there’s a chance he might have bought it at the dollar store, one time, while feeling mildly tipsy and severely sentimental. He also has a vague recollection of he and Sam both getting a little bit teared up while watching it. Just a little. 

Dean looks down at his drink and sighs. It’s gonna be a maudlin drunk kinda night. Might as well just put on a chick flick, while he’s at it. He tops up his glass, puts in the disc, throws another log on the fire, and settles onto the massive, squashy couch. 

Fuck his fuckin’ luck, seriously. There’s just this cold, dull ache in his chest that won’t seem to go away, and even though he keeps trying to tell himself that it might end up okay, the snow might stop in time, he can’t seem to shake it. Baby’s not at her best in the snow, what are the odds? He can’t ask Sam to drive however many fuckin’ hours to come pick him up, he won’t ask, and he just wishes a single damn thing would go right, for a change. 

He knuckles at his eyes and pours another drink, but no matter how much whiskey he puts away, he can’t seem to warm up. 

***

About an hour in, as he’s eyeing the whiskey bottle and deciding whether he should just go ahead and polish the thing off, there’s a knock on the door.  

“The fuck,” Dean mutters. He’s stumbling awkwardly to his feet, reaching for the gun he’d put on the coffee table, when the door slams open, letting in a gust of freezing-cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. There’s a figure in the doorway: massive coat, bundled up, and they’re carrying two big paper bags, and Dean blinks stupidly for a second, gun still cocked. 

Is that -

“Holy shit,” he blurts out. He sets the gun down and rushes to help her, but she’s already kicking the door closed behind her, setting the groceries down, and by the time he gets over there she’s unwinding the scarf from around her face so that he can see her eyes, sparkling and happy, her flushed cheeks, her bright smile. 

“Good to see you, Dean,” she says, still breathless from the cold. He wraps her in a bear hug, stunned and speechless. 

“Holy shit,” he says again, eventually, as she pulls away to get her gigantic puffy coat off. There are snowflakes caught in her hair and she’s beaming at him, and she laughs at his look of disbelief; she’s got the cutest fuckin’ laugh, Christ. 

“Little birdy told me you might need some company,” she says. She’s giving him this impish smile and he wants to say something clever, but all he can do is wipe a hand down his face and shake his head. 

“Shit, how’d you even get up here? Roads were bad when I got in.” 

“Maybe for your little Baby,” she grins, shrugging off the big coat and stomping snow off her boots. “But it wasn’t a big deal for the truck. The plows will be out tonight, we can hit the road as soon as the sun’s up. I’d say let’s go now but I hate driving in the dark when it’s snowing. it’s like making the jump to hyperspace, y’know?” 

Dean blinks slowly at her. “Wait, seriously?” 

“You know, when the snow comes at the windshield and it looks- ”

“No, I mean, we’ll be able to get out? You’re really… you don’t have to drive me all that way, shit.” 

“I mean, unless you’re set on sticking around? Got big plans?” She glances pointedly over his shoulder to where Love Actually is still playing, and Dean makes a face, but he’s so relieved he’s getting a little bit choked up. 

“Options were limited.” 

“Hey, you’re in luck. I came prepared.” She grabs her big puffy coat and rummages in pockets until she pulls out a DVD case. Dean’s mouth drops open. 

“Die Hard? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re my favorite.” 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs it off, but she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet a little, like she’s pleased with herself. “Here, help me with these?”

She picks up the grocery bag and brings it to the kitchen, and Dean trails after her with the second, which (judging by the clinking when he sets it on the counter) is mostly booze. She pulls out a pie, first, one of the supermarket ones in its plastic box. His stomach does a happy little flip-flop, and he has to hug her again. He wraps his arms around her from behind and squeezes hard. Her hair smells the same as he remembers. 

“Did you turn into a marshmallow when I wasn’t around?” she teases, and Dean blushes. 

“Guess it runs in the family,” he says quietly, laughing, and he steps away. 

“Huh? 

“Never mind. I might’ve had a couple drinks. Gettin’ sappy.” He leans against the counter next to her as she starts to unpack more food. “Last I saw you, you were in New York. Are you back in this neck of the woods? You shoulda called!” 

“Just came back recently. I guess Jody heard through the grapevine, she’s the one who called me. My dad died,” she says matter-of-factly. “Been staying at his place trying to get everything sorted out.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She shoots him a little sideways half-smile and pulls out a carton of eggnog, a bottle of Jack, and a bottle of peppermint schnapps. “Thanks. I don’t mind being back, mostly, but I’m glad she called. The holidays have kinda been a bummer this year.” 

“I know how that goes,” Dean says wryly. 

“Yeah. Nice to have something to do. When Jody found out I was gonna be alone she about had a cow, so I guess I’m having Christmas with you guys now. Anyway, I can never say no to rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

She winks, and Dean’s so goddamn charmed right now it takes a second to realize she just called him a damsel. 

“Hey,” he protests. He tries to look affronted, but she’s giggling, so it’s probably not working. 

“Should we start with the ‘nog? Or peppermint hot chocolate?” she muses. 

“Dealer’s choice.” 

“Hot chocolate it is. Boil some water?” 

Dean grabs the old kettle while she peers at mugs, trying to find a couple that aren’t too dusty. He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye; she’s pretty, Christ, and she’s all pink-cheeked from the cold, biting her lip absentmindedly, and… yeah. Dean maybe can’t stop staring. 

She catches him looking, but she just smiles back, shy and sweet, and starts pouring hot cocoa mix into two passably clean mugs. 

“You never told me what you’re doing up here,” she remarks. “Secret Christmas mission, Jody said?” 

Dean fumbles for the ring box and shows her. “Had to get something out of storage.” 

Her eyes go wide and shocked, and her mouth opens and closes silently for a second. 

“Oh,” she says, voice strained, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t realize you were…” 

“No, not for me!” he says hastily. “God, no. Not for me. For Sam.” 

“Oh!” she says, high-pitched. She laughs and fidgets nervously with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, okay.”  

Dean doesn’t think he’s imagining the look of relief on her face, and something in his chest goes all fluttery. 

“I am very single,” he says, and he can’t quite manage to keep his tone casual. “Just… to make it clear.” 

She nods, trying to hold back a smile, like she’s laughing at him but also maybe (hopefully) like she’s charmed at the same time. 

“Good,” she says softly. 

***

Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep. When he wakes up, sometime in the middle of the night, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. 

He feels sorta dazed, like maybe he’s still tipsy. That’s normal enough. What’s not normal is the person next to him; they’re curled around each other, fully clothed, and she’s tucked under his arm with her hand resting on his chest. They must’ve dozed off during the movie. Dean smiles to himself. 

The fire’s mostly embers at this point, and he should get up, put a log on, before it dies completely. Maybe he should just go to his room, too; find her a blanket and then give her some space. That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do. 

He takes a second to breathe, first. There’s something so perfect about the moment. He wants to memorize the way she feels, curled against his side, the way they fit together, the way her hair smells, the way her breath tickles his neck when she exhales. He feels boneless and heavy-limbed, like he could melt into the couch cushions, but there’s this tightness in his chest, the knowledge that he should enjoy this while he can, because it won’t last. It never does. 

He’s careful when he gets up, trying to slip away without disturbing her, and he’s quiet as he stokes the fire. When it’s blazing again, he grabs a big quilt from the back of a chair and covers her up, tucking her in gently. He turns to head to bed. 

“Hey, wait,” she murmurs sleepily. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Where’re you going?” she asks. When he looks back, the fire is illuminating the adorable grumpy pout on her face, and she’s all sleepy-eyed and pillow-creased and fucking gorgeous. 

Dean shrugs. 

“Come back?” she asks. 

He slides under the quilt, and she snuggles close. When she tilts her face up to look him in the eye, her skin glows orange-gold in the firelight. She leans in slow, pausing just before their lips meet, and when they kiss Dean feels it through his entire body, liquid heat curling out to his toes. Her mouth is soft, and she makes this sweet, happy sound when he sucks on her lower lip; it makes his head spin, and he cups her cheek in one hand, feels her velvety skin under his fingers. 

Her lashes flutter when she pulls back, her eyes still half-closed. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” she whispers. “We’ve got a long drive in the morning.” 

She fits herself against his side, nuzzling into his neck, sighing contentedly, and he strokes her hair until her breathing evens out again. 

He likes the way she fits in his arms, and he likes the sweet smell of her hair all mixed in with the woodsmoke. He likes the weight of her on his chest and the heat of her body against his, the way she’s wrapped around him, the way she’s half draped over him like a living blanket. 

Warm and fuzzy, he thinks, and he’s smiling as he falls asleep.

.

.

.

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[1d-fics]

What I’m Reading: January

Re-Reads:

1. Another Day Gettin’ Into Trouble (whoknows) -  Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

2. Autumn At My Window (thecellardoor) -  Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past ‘friends who are too close for comfort’.

3. Peaches and Cream (seducedbycurls) -  The study was to see if two strangers could live together for a month and fall in love.

New Reads:

1. Under the Moonlight (we_are_the_same) - Harry and Louis have been friends online for years. They’ve never met despite living only a few hours from one another. One fateful summer a silly little lie, a family vacation and an accidental meet up lead to a week of fake dating on Mallorca. All in all, a holiday Louis won’t easily forget.

2. The Morning After the Night Before (ladylondonderry) - Harry and Louis have more or less grown up together, even now as adults it’s tradition for their families to spend a few weeks in the summer at a beach house together. Problem one: Louis has been in love with Harry forever. Problem two: It won’t stop raining.

3. Steal My Breath (harryskiwiposes) - Harry keeps coming up with excuses to visit the emergency room, all for an attractive nurse named Louis.

4. Say It With Flowers (reminiscingintherain) - Harry owns a flower shop and Louis comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says, “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

5. ‘Sup (mediawhore) - Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

6. Floating (snowy38) - There’s places that you can go to get help. The doctor’s, psychiatrists, psychologists and all that run in between. And then there’s places that fall on the edge of those recognized institutions. That’s the kind of place Louis Tomlinson needs. It’s the kind of place he has found. And so he goes.

7. Heart on an Open Highway (afirethatcannotdie) - Harry’s a popstar about to release his second album, and Louis is the Radio 1 intern who gets his heart racing.

8. Ain’t No Tellin’ Who’s In Charge Here (whoknows) - The thing about Louis and Harry’s dynamic is that while Louis is the instigator of 99% of the foolishness, Harry will always come back at him with something ten times dirtier than whatever Louis had though up. It’s a vicious cycle that continues until one of them makes a plea for truce.

9. Delicate (fallinglikethis) - They say opposites attract. Maybe that’s why nerdy, shy Harry Styles has such a huge crush on rough, brash Louis Tomlinson. And now, he’s stuck in a lift with him.

10. I Get To Love You (lovelarry10) - A one night stand leaves Harry with a permanent reminder of the night he spent with a stranger. A baby is on the way, and Louis and Harry have nine months to get to know each other before they become a family.

11. Focal Point (rainbowsandgucci) - By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, sorry to run. P.S. Thanks for the money.

12. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (haroldslouis) - Harry is a bank robber and Louis falls in love with him.

13. Come In And Change My Life (lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)) - Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis’ cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It’s just a shame that Louis’ going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

14. Give A Chance (hattalove) - Louis starts a dead-end job with every intention of quitting as soon as possible. He ends up getting rather more than he’d bargained for.

15. Family Of Penguins (Not Literally) (miamistyles) - Louis and Harry have a son together but Harry is only just finding this out.

16. Candy Cane Eyes (larryent) - It’s the Christmas season in New York City. There are far too many mistletoes hanging in Harry’s apartment building and there is a pair of mischievous candy cane blue eyes who is responsible.

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

TWENTY-TWO

The plane ride home was exhausting, though otherwise uneventful. An early morning arrival met you and Misha with dark, wet roads and a severe drop in temperature, immediately making you wish you were back on the islands.

At just after four in the morning, you said your goodbyes to Misha and Cliff before falling into bed. While Hawaii had been beautiful, you were happy to be home. With the California convention closing out the season, you wondered what Misha would have you do during the winter break. Wrapping yourself in a nest of blankets, your eyes closed almost immediately after crawling into your four-poster canopy bed.

Plaintive cries of indignation tore you from a dreamless sleep and you woke to find both of your cats pointedly staring at you from atop their position on your stomach. One of them had the good grace to at least offer a rumbling purr at the first sign of your stirring. Your attempts to ignore their demands for food by rolling to the other side of the mattress did little to deter them. Snuffling purrs rolled against the curve of your ear, whiskers tickling the skin with their light touch. “Fine, yes, I’m getting up!” With a heaving groan you stumbled from the soft surface, absentmindedly filling the empty dishes in the kitchen so as to dissuade the complaints of the dependents who wound through your legs.

Dragging the comforter from your room to wrap around your shoulders, you settled into the couch for a day of movie watching. Since your sister was still in Hawaii with Galen, the idea of a quiet day at home was just what you needed. Flipping through several social media platforms and seeing no updates from her surprised you, usually she dominated the websites with non-stop photos. Shrugging it off, your attention turned back to the tv, content with your decision to have a Harry Potter marathon. Musing to yourself, you wondered, was it possible to watch all seven movies in one day?

You were able to make it through the first and most of the second film before dozing off, and the rest of the day was filled with a cycle of sleeping, switching discs and eating. Towards the end of the evening, an Instagram notification appeared on your phone, once again startling you from the light state of unconsciousness you’d drifted in and out of today. A half smile of relief at the beachy sunset quelled the uneasiness that had tried to worm its way into your mind. Watching over your sister had been something you’d tasked yourself with from a young age, and even now that the two of you were adults, it was a hard habit to break.

Early the next morning, you dressed quickly. One perk to having an early-to-rise boss was that often by eight am you’d already been awake for a couple hours. This schedule had almost seamlessly transferred to include your days off. Thanksgiving was a week away and you’d finally be able to not only afford all of the ingredients for a literal feast, but also have people to share your efforts with. A beautiful fall day greeted you as you descended the stairs, stopping a moment to appreciate the crisp chill of the air and the dried leaves that painted the ground in values of crimson, gold and tangerine.

Turning your music up and speeding through scattered leaves had you smiling to yourself when you pulled into the grocery store parking lot a few minutes later. Although it was early, plenty of people were already gathering their groceries for the upcoming holiday. Pointing the key fob over your shoulder and pulling the crimson peacoat more securely around your shoulders, the audible beeping of the car locking echoed around you.

Grabbing your phone from the pocket inside your bag, you unlocked the screen and navigated through the applications until you found the list of ingredients you needed to purchase. Humming contentedly to yourself as the pile of produce and baking components accumulated in the cart, you didn’t notice until too late that you’d bumped into another lady in front of you. As you rushed to apologize, you quickly realized it was your old boss. 

The furtive glances and tight-lipped smile she offered created an air of awkwardness as you mumbled an obligatory hello. 

“So…[Y/F/N], ho-how have you been?” The light touch of her fingertips on your shoulder made you flinch, though you doubted she had noticed. Her white-knuckled grip on the handles of her basket betrayed her confident demeanor. Taking a deep breath, you considered. How had you been? Fucking fantastic was the answer. And yes, you had been upset when she’d unceremoniously fired you, but without having had that happen, you might never have been given the opportunity to accept what had literally become your dream-job. 

“Actually...I’ve been great! I found a new position pretty quickly and I’m so grateful that things worked out how they did. Otherwise, I’d still be struggling to pay my bills and feeling like my career was going nowhere.” 

The excitement in your tone was unquestionable, but the look of hurt in the woman’s eyes made it clear that she’d thought you were being frigid. 

“Oh! I mean..I was really appreciative of the relationship we’d formed for the years I worked for you, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to be rude, and I realize you could only offer me so much. Really though, you gave me something I didn’t have the courage to do for myself; an out. So, for that, thank you.” 

The tentative smile and confidence that swept through you allowed you to fold her into a hug, her bewildered expression delaying her reaction. As she brought her arms up to return the hug, you were already stepping back, guiding your cart around her. 

“Happy Holidays!” The lilting tone in your voice settled into the same comfortable humming from earlier as you added the final items from your list to the cart.

Amongst the friendly chatter with the young woman ringing up your groceries, your phone began to ring. The muffled sounds of Louden Swain drifted from the bottom of your bag and you set to work digging through the expansive tote trying to find the device in time to answer it. 

“I love Louden Swain, did you go to their concert in Seattle last month?” The bright brown eyes of the cashier lit up, and with them, so did her entire face. “I didn’t get to unfortunately, I had to work - but I was able to see them perform a few days ago in Hawaii, they are fantastic aren’t they?” 

Nodding as she finished calculating your order, you lifted the phone to your ear just in time to have the ringing silence itself. Flipping through the caller ID, you realized it was Misha who’d called. Not wanting to be rude, you paid for your purchases and thanked the woman, wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving as you dialed the number to reach your boss. 

“Hey Misha, what’s up?” 

“Nothing, just some errands.” 

As you turned to leave you didn’t notice the look of surprise come over the woman’s face who watched you walk away from her checkstand, bags of groceries gripped tightly in your hand.

As you unloaded the items from the back of your car and carried them up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, your phone rang again. Luckily, this time it started right as you reached the final landing. 

“Norman! Wow, I didn’t expect you to call, how are you?!” The excitement in your voice caused you to miss the questioning tone of his voice. 

“Why’da think ah wou’na call ya?” “Happy Thanksgivin’ Sunshine!” Laughing, you returned the greeting only to remind him that you still had a week to prepare and not to jinx you. As the two of you discussed your individual holiday plans, the phone beeped against your shoulder just as you set the milk in the door of the refrigerator. 

“One sec, that’s my other line.” Switching calls, Misha was there asking you to work for a few hours. Looking around to make sure everything was put away, you scooped some food from the container for your cats and lowered the bowls to the ground. Not knowing how long you were going to be gone, you’d rather know the girls had been fed early than making them wait too long. Promising you’d be there soon, you ended the call as you once again grabbed your keys and shut the door behind you. There hadn’t even been enough time to take off your coat.

As you docked your phone in the car cradle, you quickly realized the second line was on hold; Norman was still waiting. Cursing, you quickly fumbled for the screen as you started the car. 

“Sorry, I totally didn’t forget that you were still waiting on me.” Laughter echoed through your car speakers as you turned left out of the parking lot and headed for I-5 North. 

“I forgive ya, swee’har, dun worry abou’ it.” Norman kept you company for the drive to Misha’s house, talking about meeting new people in Australia for the wrap-up of season three. A tired sigh filtered through the space around you and you recognized the sound of exhaustion that came with Norman’s voice. 

“Hey, just one more week till Thanksgiving, you can stuff yourself silly and nap all day!” The laughter in your voice ebbed away when Norman snorted. 

“Nah, gotta work till Wednesday and I’m just hanging out in Georgia for the rest of the week. Gonna be kina quiet, Mingus is spending the week with ‘is mom - so it’s just gonna be me an’ Eye.” A quiet huff punctuated the statement. “Anyhow, ya prolly gettin’ close ta Misha’s place - I’ll talk ta ya later, gotta get back ta work.” After saying your goodbyes, the call ended just as you pulled into Misha’s driveway.

Sitting in the office chair behind his desk, you set to work organizing the newest information for the project that would replace Gishwhes. Although you’d never gotten the chance to participate in the scavenger hunt, the new version sounded just as fun. 

“Hey, [Y/F/N], can you call Jensen and ask if they’ll still be in Vancouver next week? I need a headcount for dinner.” 

Scribbling the note on a scrap piece of paper so you wouldn’t forget, you grabbed your phone to look up his number. 

“Oh! And Rachel is waiting on the final numbers from the Castiel ops we offered last weekend, can you email Creation and have them contact her please?” 

The task joined the one on your notepad as you continued to scroll through your now extensive contacts list. The sheer amount of phone numbers you’d received over the last week still surprised you. Muttering to yourself, you ran through the entries, 

“Briana, Kim, Jared...there, Jensen.” 

A text message from your sister came through just as you were about to call the Ackles'.

‘Hey love, won’t be home for Thanksgiving next week, Galen wants me to stay another few days. Love you.”

As your shoulders dropped at the news, you couldn’t say you weren’t disappointed, but you were happy she was having a good time. Pushing the thought from your mind, you went back to calling Jensen as you opened a blank email and sent the request for a financial report to the convention team.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[rfsak2]

Cactus, a Display

This based off a convo I had with @busstop about this gif set. I put that bit at the end there… the rest was inspired by that.

Cactus, a Display Summary: Public Displays of Affection. The Styles Warnings: None

“This is Selena’s Bridge.” Jamie smiled and started climbing the steps. “Have to get out early during the holiday season. Place is usually packed.”

“Selena as in…?”

“As in Selena.” She grinned. “You gonna date a San Antonian, you should get familiar with Selena. She was a famous Tejano singer.”

Harry leaned over the side of the stone bridge and smiled. “Tejano like yer mum?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Tejano as in ethnicity but also as in musical style. In fact, she’s so well-liked in SA, that despite having been gone for over twenty years, her music is still played all the time.” She got quiet. “Yep, Rio Rio is playing it now.”

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her. “That’s what that is.”

She giggled and leaned in for another kiss. “It is indeed.”

“Let’s take a selfie, love.” He gathered her against his side and pulled his phone out of his pocket. They snapped a couple pictures, one of which would remain Harry’s lockscreen photo until he replaced it with a picture of their wedding rings a couple years later.

They continued meandering down the riverwalk, pausing when Jamie would point out something else. She pulled him to a stop in front of a small island. “This is Marriage Island.”

“Can yeh get married on Marriage Island?”

She nodded. “‘Course ya can. People been gettin’ married here for like 200-something years. Would be surprised if there isn’t a wedding here today. Saturday’s are good days for it.”

He dropped a kiss on hair. “Do yeh want to get married here?”

She quieted and shifted closer to him. “It’s as good a place as any, I guess. No privacy though. Can’t shut down the Riverwalk.”

He nodded. “Where do yeh want t’get married then?”

She chuckled and peeked up at him through her lashes. “Haven’t given it much thought honestly. Not sure it was ever on my radar.”

“And now?” He looked purposefully nonchalant and she smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.

“It’s… more on my radar, I guess. Still don’t know where I’d want to get married. Never was one of those girls who planned it all.” She shrugged. “What about you? Would you want to get married in the UK?”

He copied her shrug and shook his head. “Don’t know. Probably not here in this exact spot though…”

“That’s fair. It’s not really big enough for even all the family… Do you think ducks can witness a wedding officially?”

A duck conveniently quacked and Harry grinned. “I dunno… It might fly.”

She made a face. “Any justice of peace that allowed that would be a quack though. Not sure it’d stand the test of time.”

He snorted. “No harm, no fowl though, amiright?”

She smiled and pulled her phone out as it roared in her purse. She looked down at her phone. “We’re meetin’ the fam at Saltgrass in thirty.”

“Where is Saltgrass?”

“Across the river.” She pointed. “Right there in fact.”

He grinned. “Whatever shall we do with our time, m’love?”

She pulled him over to a bench and sat. “We can watch the ducks. They are the nest best thing to true entertainment.”

Smiling, he laid his arm over the back of the bench. “I could do with some bird watchin’ with m’bird.”

She snickered and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

One duck snapped at another and Harry made a low disapproving noise. “We have a few ruffled feathers here.” He raised his voice, speaking directly to the duck. “Should tell him to duck off, mate.”

“Good one, Haz.” She chuckled and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

He grinned. “Yeah, well I’m at beak performance.” She threw her head back against his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her jaw. “Truly, love. I’m just winging it.”

Her phone roared again and she smiled, looking down to shoot off a text to some member of her family or another. When she looked up again, he smiled down at her.

“Yeh are so beautiful.”

She blushed and leaned up to kiss him full on the mouth.

Moaning quietly, his arm abandoned the bench and pulled her as close to him as he could manage as he drew her bottom lip between his teeth. Gasping as quietly as she could manage, she set her hand low on his belly and pressed up into his kiss.

A soft cough, not unlike the clearing of a clear throat, shocked her and she flushed bright red as she pulled away.

The elderly woman smiled kindly and set her gnarled hands on her cane.

She peeled her hand from Harry’s shirt and sat back against the park bench as primly as she could.

“Lo siento, señora.”

She nodded. “Public place, m’hija. Lot’s of little eyes around. Maybe keep it a tad more… contained, sí?”

Jamie nodded and the woman turned to Harry. “Can’t say I blame you though. Es muy guapo.” She winked and Jamie drew a hand down over her face as she toddled away.

Harry grinned down at his feet and reached for her hand. “When we get home, I’m gonna flock yeh into the mattress.”

It took her a short while, but eventually she fell against his shoulder, giggling like a fool.

“Seriously, I love yeh, gull.”

She snorted, pushing back off his chest

**

Maybe it was that the tour was nearing its end, only a handful of shows left before his first solo tour is officially at an end.

Maybe it was that he was nearing two years with one woman- not a minor feat considering that most of his previous relationships had lasted months and not many of them to begin with.

Maybe it was that he still felt as strongly for her as he did at the first, loved her as fiercely as he ever had, that she was feeling more and more like his wife every time he woke up with her hair in his face.

Maybe it was the engagement ring he had been turning over in his mind more often than not these days- should he call Lola? He really did not want to call Lola. Jamie would know maybe seconds after the call ended.

Or maybe it was just that she was beautiful, that some inspired soul had set her up a soft pink light and it colored her hair peachy and reflected off the dark grey sequins of her duster in a way that made him think of Guinevere and Juliet and every other romantic heroine he could think of.

Regardless as the second chorus ended and the solo neared, he found his feet carrying him to her side then behind her. The wedges she wore put her at a perfectly convenient height to rock his hips gently against her ass, careful not to jostle her so she could still play.

“I love yeh.” He kissed at her neck, one hand slithering under her guitar to rest low on her hip. “My little monster.”

She gasped, but dared not glance up at him as she struggled to continue playing the solo without faltering.

“I’m gonna marry yeh one day. Yer gonna wear my ring and everyone’s gonna know yer mine.”

She made a small noise- affirmation or not, he honestly couldn’t tell -and he leaned into her mic to sing the bridge.

“I wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight.”

He smiled against her temple, swaying with her, remembering the first time she’d heard it and the look on her face as she tried to process what it meant when someone- a fuckbuddy on the face of it -wrote you a song and sang ‘I wanna die’ right in the middle of it.

He had had every intention of moving back to his mic after the solo but didn’t like the idea of letting her go, so he didn’t. When the song ended, she sucked in a breath and pushed her hair off her face as she turned to look at him.

He leaned in for a kiss. “I love yeh, monster.”

She still looked confused, bless her, but she accepted the kiss, hand pressed gently to his sternum- which is where she belonged, as far as he was concerned, right in the center of his chest.

“Love ya too.”

He grinned and winked, sauntering back to his mic. “Jamie Schwartz everyone!” The crowd cheered loudly and he revelled in the fact that one day he might have the honor of introducing her to an audience as Jamie Styles.

**

Harry was waiting for her at the start of the catwalk as he always did, the equipment guys following behind with her acoustic and electric and Niall’s acoustic and electric.

He intertwined their fingers and started skipping to the end of the catwalk where the other guys were getting set up for the next set.

Giggling, she gingerly ran behind him, sharp eye on the stage, lest her boot catch and send her tumbling.

He pulled her to a stop center stage and raised their hands above her head. “Jamie Styles, everyone!”

The proud smile that stretched his face every time he introduced her to an audience was what she lived for, smiling as his massive hand slid around her waist and pulled her gently into his side.

“She speaks fluent Spanish and since I happen to know that yeh also speak fluent Spanish-” the crowd cheered “-I thought you might like to speak with her.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and passed her the mic with a gorgeous grin. “M’love?

She took the mic and turned to the crowd. “Hola!” The crowd responded in kind and she started chatting with the crowd. Five minutes later, Niall came to her side and pointed out a sign to her.

Liam, on Niall’s other side, squinted and turned to Niall. “What does it say?”

Niall grinned. “‘Kiss her, you fool!’”

Jamie smiled and laughed over the sound of the crowd. “Then it has my name. But what does it mean? Am I supposed to kiss someone?”

She turned to ask Harry what he thought and gasped into his mouth as he leaned in to kiss her.

The crowd went wild, cheering and screaming, and Harry grinned against her mouth. He pulled just barely away and winked at her. “Let’s give something to really scream about, yeah?”

Before she could really respond, she found herself almost parallel to the ground, only supported by her husband’s arms around her waist. She caught his grin again just as he leaned in to slant his lips against hers, tongue almost immediately licking into her mouth.

She gasped again and threaded her fingers back into his hair, winding the soft growing curls around her fingers.

Despite the situation, or maybe because of the venue, Harry kept the kiss relatively tame, hands firm on her waist and not wandering at all as they were usually wont to do.

All the same, she had a hard time catching her breath when he pulled away. He grinned down at her, wiping his bottom lip idly with his thumb, in such a way that told her exactly what kind of night was ahead of them.

The kind of night where they’d get relatively little sleep and he’d have her anyway hiss very creative mind could come up with. The kinda night that led to the kinda morning where she’d wake up floating between sore and so fuckin’ relaxed.

She shifted minutely, trying to discreetly squeeze her thighs together, and caught Harry’s knowing smirk.

He reached for the mic, still loose in her grip, and grinned. “Yeh alright, monster?”

“Jesus, Harry.” Liam breathed.

**

“So apparently…” Harry grinned, pushing his hair back off his face, tongue caught in his teeth in the corner of his mouth. “Apparently this is a once or twice every other year… sort of thing.”

The crowd laughed, applauding.

“Now there are no special emergencies… nothing like that, to put yeh at ease.” He shrugged. “James is on holiday!” He grinned again. “He’s gone to Tenerife… as yeh do. Here’s a postcard!”

The postcard was obviously doctored and featured James in a suit on a lounger. Harry laughed and clapped his hands. “We have a great show for you today! Tom Holland and Zendaya are here to discuss all things Spiderman with us-” there was a loud cheer from the crowd, “-and the gorgeous, beautiful, insanely talented, very very married Jamie Styles is here…”

He paused amid a loud cheer from the audience. “I’m sorry…” He shook his head dramatically. “Jamie Schwartz is her stage name… I promised to be professional.” The crowd laughed. “Jamie Schwartz is here to promote… Oh wait… I’ve gone and done it again. Spike & Devil, my wife’s band, is here promoting their album What Happens- which by the way, won an AMA this past November-”

The crowd cheered and Harry spurred them on, “-That’s right! Cheer for her… them!! Cheer for them! What Happens has also earned a Grammy nomination, so yeh can cheer some more! And my wife.. My wife’s band achieved this after completin’ a world tour with my band pregnant, havin’ said baby, helpin’ me write my third solo album, promotin’ my album, and dealin’ with my general bulls[bleep]t. Cheer for her, goddamn it! No, I’m not partial at all.” Harry grinned. “They’re all very talented, all jokes aside. They are Spike & Devil and this is The Truth. Make some noise!”

The camera panned over the band and settled on Jamie, who blew a kiss at Harry. “Hey, Baby.”

“Hello, Monster.” Dramatically, he caught the kiss and pressed it to his heart.

Dante scoffed into his mic and Matt chuckled. “Well, folks…” He folded his arms over his guitar. “Yes, this is how they always are.”

The crowd cheered and Dante made a face. “Just imagine recording an album in their home studio.”

Tommy sighed. “All the damn time. ‘Where’s Jamie?’.” He looked at Dante and Matt and together they sighed, “Oh...”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “They’re just peanut butter and jealous.”

The crowd exploded, cackling laughter filling the space.

She grinned. “I would also like to point out that I have a toddler-”

“We know what you were doin’. Please, woman.”

Matt nodded. “We’re not stupid, li’l bit. You leave and come back in different clothes...”

“Hair all-”

Jamie held her hands out in front of her. “Nope. Too far. Let’s let it go-”

Tommy started singing Let It Go into his mic almost as an afterthought.

The other three band members turned to stare at him and Harry cracked up side-stage as the audience nearly died laughing.

“Well… damn.” Jamie tapped a foot and turned to the audience. She arched an eyebrow rather imperiously and settled her hands on her hollow-body. “Seriously, we gotta get it together. Our professional reputation is on the line.”

The crowd laughed and eventually they do, less launching into the song and more easing into it. The Truth was easily the most mellow song she’d ever written for herself, reflecting Harry’s contribution; no wailing guitar solos, just twangy old-country simplicity.

“The Truth is…”

When the song was over, Harry, who had gone around backstage, pulled up even with Jamie and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Now, because begging makes my wife and James Corden weak, I’ve been allowed to do my very own Carpool Karaoke with Spike & Devil. Watch this.”

--

“Hey Foxy Lady, yeh come here often?” He pulled up in his vintage Mercedes convertible and lowered his sunglasses on his nose.

“Hey, Big Daddy.” Jamie grinned, leaning on the door over him. He leaned up for a kiss and she dodged. “I have one word for you, Haz. Extra.”

“And you love it.” He stretched up and kissed her. “I make your life interesting.”

He grinned as Dante gagged behind her, looking into the camera like he was on the office. “Can we stow alla that, lovebirds? Let’s get this show on the road.” He grinned down at Jamie. “Shotgun…”

She gasped, outraged. “This is my husband’s car. It is a wife’s understood right to ride shotgun in her husband’s car!”

Dante sauntered around the front, smirking the whole way. “Way too slow, hermanita.”

She all but screeched. “You are younger than me!”

He shrugged and managed to sink into the seat smugly.

“Baby!”

Harry shrugged helplessly. “The rules, love. He called it.”

“Harold.” Jamie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty sure it was in our vows.”

Harry snorted. “I vow to always let you ride shotgun.”

Matt opened the back door and scooched to the far side. “You two didn’t have vows… you got married at the courthouse.”

She gasped again as Tommy tried to usher her into the car. “You are all jerks.”

Dante laughed and high-fived Harry. “Bros befor-” Harry shot him a look and Dante grinned. “Fair.”

Pouting, Jamie slid into back center. “Hazza…”

Harry turned and reached back to squeeze her knee. “You can switch in a bit.”

“Fine.” She swatted at Dante’s arm and leaned forward to peck Harry on the lips, pushing long hair off his temples. “Let’s do this shit.”

--

“So Mrs. Styles…” Harry made a purposely overly dramatic hand motion. “So sorry, love. Ms. Schwartz, yeh are married though, aren’t yeh?”

Dante rolled his eyes while Jamie sniggered into her hand. “So this is how this is gonna go, then, bruh? You really gonna play that game?”

Harry sniffed with faux-contempt. “Ms. Schwartz?”

“I am married, yes.” She nodded, forcing a neutral expression on her face.

“Damn shame, that. Wouldn’t mind takin’ yeh out m’self.” He sighed and shook his head. “People who are attracted to women weep the world over. Except, ‘suppose, for yer husband.”

She sniggered again and fought to remain neutral. “Guess so.”

Matt sucked on his teeth, hiding a grin behind his hand. “As amusing as this elaborate mating dance is for the audience, can we move on?”

Harry ignored him. “I’ve heard yer husband is… exceptionally talented and incredibly good-looking.”

She was moments from breaking, face slowly getting redder and redder. She took a deep breath. “I’d say so. Very much indeed.”

“Generous lover?”

She squawked and covered her face. “Holy hell, Harry.”

Harry looked into the camera. “Think that’s a yes. Yeh heard it here first.”

A Claim Up Next: A Relationship