#god. my friends keep getting send 10-minute long voice messages of me just completely losing it i'm so glad they're having fun but like

[queerofthedagger]

people keep telling me that it's incredibly in character and on brand that I'm getting this unhinged over tolkien and yeah yeah that's true i'm aware but also i just. someone could have warned me before the fact. this is going to take over my life for years at this point. every day i keep reading more source material and more fic and every day i get worse and add blorbos and ships to my little Shelf Of Insanity while screaming into a damn paper bag as if my entire wip file isn't wailing in the background. which is to say are people aware i'm going to make it their problem. like. you could have helped and now here we are

[anarcoqueer1994]

You Are My Sunshine

A little Shrinkyclinks fic I am working on. Not beta read so ope.

Steve had retired a few months back, giving Sam the shield. His life had been quiet enough since then, getting a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with Bucky when Bucky returned from the blip. Bucky, though,would still go out on missions with Sam and did some freelance work for the government. Steve would never admit that though his friend was more than capable, he would still get nervous when he was away for days at a time, worried that he would lose his friend for a third time. But overall, it was going fine. That is until one day when one of Bucky's jobs followed him home.

An unfortunate result of the recent Flag Smashers attacks, some anti-super soldier terrorist groups rose-up out of fear. Some wealthy elites, both part of world governments and independent ,backed these groups in secret, supplying tech and money, as they see super soldiers as a threat to their power. They weaponized these people’s fear. These groups were ruthless in their pursuits, ordered to not care who they hurt, as long as they eliminated super soldiers. 

Bucky and Sam had faced one of these groups recently, when they attempted to come after and kill Bucky while they were out on an intelligence mission. The two men thought that they had taken care of the group after a long, drawn-out battle, rounding them up to deal with the consequences. What they hadn't had counted on was a second team following Bucky back to Brooklyn, after he and Sam went their separate ways. He had done well to keep he and Steve’s location a secret, but got careless this time, letting his guard down.

So now these militants were in New York in front of their apartment building, threatening to hurt other people, to get to Steve and Bucky. Of course the men don’t  back down, not waiting for backup to arrive. The fight had been tense, Bucky and Steve vs 10 well-armed men, but nothing they couldn't handle. So they managed to subdue them. But as a last-ditch effort, one shot something right towards Bucky who had been occupied with another one of the men. It appeared like a red laser beam, almost something out of a sci-fi film. Steve noticed it coming, and not having the time to warn Bucky, jumps in front of his friend, taking the hit. He goes down hard to the ground, unconscious instantly. "Steve!" Bucky yells out, heart sinking. When his friend doesn’t  move, he is urged back into action, protecting his now defenseless friend. It takes everything in him not to revert to killing, like the Winter Soldier, but the man who shot Steve was definitely in bad shape by the time backup,government agents, arrived. They round the would be terrorist up and get them hauled away.

As the men are being taken away, Bucky runs towards Steve who is unresponsive on the ground but still breathing. He yells for an ambulance. He scoops Steve up in his arms, and against his chest, kneeling on the ground, whispering "Come on, Stevie…" he feels like this is all his fault. He was the one who brought them there, he was the one the gun was aiming for, and now the love of his life, however unrequited that may be, is lying unconscious on the ground, and god only knows what that laser did. He feels a tear well up in his eye, forcing himself not to shed it. This is not the time to break down. But he is terrified. He hasn’t seen Steve completely unresponsive in years, not since they were kids and he would get into fights and get knocked unconscious. Bucky, then too, would often lose his mind, beating up anyone who had touched his Stevie, whether Steve knew it or not. 

But before the ambulance arrives, Steve is opening his eyes again, smiling at Bucky. “Hey Buck.” He sounds completely fine.  

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, it looks like whatever the laser was intended to do didn’t work on him. “How ya' feeling, pal?” Bucky smiles back.

“Great, just a little tired, but I don’t feel any different otherwise.” Suddenly, Steve becomes aware of Bucky’s arms still wrapped around him, pulling him close to his chest. He blushes as he clears his throat. “You planning on squeezing me to death, bud?”

Now Bucky is going red, trying to laugh it off as he lets go. “I thought you were dying, punk.”

Steve just laughs back, sitting up right as the ambulance arrives. They bring him to the truck and check him out, giving him a clean bill of health. So, Steve and Bucky return to the apartment. Both showering and then Steve opting to go lay down. Seriously injured or not, being knocked unconscious took a lot out of him.

Bucky sat in their living room, trying his best to block out the events of today. For those few minutes, when he thought he could lose Steve, he had felt like everything around him was going to crash down, burying him in a pit of loneliness and sadness that he knew he wouldn't be able to escape. The thought of losing Steve again made him sick to his stomach. Steve was his everything, even when they were kids in Brooklyn, when sickness would ravage the blonde’s body and he would spend days at the Rogers’ home, sitting near his bedside, or sliding into bed to pull him close to keep him warm. Worried that he could lose his Stevie at any moment. Terrified at the thought. And seeing Steve unconscious today, brought all those feelings back. It was worse than seeing him roughed up in battle, because at least those times he had been conscious. But this time was different.  He doesn’t know what he would do without his favorite person in the whole world, the one person who understands him. The person he would do anything for, be anything for, just to make him happy. But Steve was fine, he reminded himself.

So, he tries to shake away those feelings, sending mindless texts to Sam, who had messaged him as soon as he heard what happened. Bucky filled him in, told him Steve was alright. Then deciding to read, he picked up where he left off on The Lord of the Rings. He has to say, he loves these books, always liking The Hobbit, so being ecstatic to find out that the author had written more later. One good thing about waking up in the future. This did the trick, immersing himself into the story, melting away any lingering thoughts of today. 

That is until a couple hours pass, and he hears rough coughing from Steve’s bedroom. This catches him off guard. Steve (and himself), don’t really get sick thanks to the fantastic immune system afforded to super soldiers.

He gets up and makes his way to Steve’s bedroom, knocking as he hears the continued coughing fit, punctuated by wheezing. When Steve doesn’t answer, Bucky just opens the door, too worried to care about etiquette. When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks. There, sitting up coughing, is Steve. But Steve is different then when he went to lay down, He is much shorter, lacking any muscle mass, skinny, drowning in the navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants he went to sleep in. He looks like he did before the serum, give, or take a few years due to the time he has spent outside of the ice.

Bucky steps closer “Stevie?” He is shocked and worried again.

When Steve finally catches his breath, he looks down at his own hands instead of meeting Bucky’s stare, mortified by his sudden appearance change. The other man stepped closer to the bed. “Steve, I think the ray wasn’t so harmless.” He tries to say plainly, not showing the worry in his voice. For as much as he had been angry at Steve back in the day for letting the military experiment on him, he was ultimately grateful that the serum had helped his body fight back diseases that had tormented him his entire life. 

Steve’s bright blue eyes, which always stood out more against his paler, sicklier skin, shoot up and meet Bucky’s and he snaps “You think?” His harsh tone caused Bucky to recoil slightly. Steve, seeing this, quickly apologizes, feeling guilty. “Sorry, Buck…” Bucky nods and steps forward again, taking a seat on the edge of Steve’s bed. "Don't  worry about it, it was a dumb thing to say. "Bucky blushes slightly, cursing himself for being such an idiot sometimes. 

Steve sighs, not towards Bucky but in general, towards the room.“I’m just frustrated. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was this…and then it got hard to breathe and for the first time in years it felt like I was having an asthma attack. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Something switches in Bucky’s head when Steve calls himself pathetic, something more protective like how he used to feel when they were much younger. He reaches over like it is nothing, placing his hand on Steve’s bony knee. “I’m going to tell you like I did back then. Nothing about you is pathetic. You can’t help what your body does. And you…you jumped in front of a gun to protect me. I wouldn’t call that pathetic. I��d call that being a hero.” 

Steve cracks a small smile. “Whatever you say…” He does not believe him but knows Bucky won’t back down on this, he never has. He lets out a shiver. The apartment is freezing. It is February but they keep the heat low since both men had such a high tolerance to cold. Bucky notices his friend shivering. “Oh shoot, I sorry Stevie. Let me get the heat and then��I’m going to call down to the Avenger’s Tower.” Pepper has been keeping it going and he knows she will know who can help them. 

Steve nods, hating feeling so useless, but knowing Bucky is there to help. That he can rely on Bucky not to make him feel worse, just be there to support and help him. He used to hate the way Bucky would always step in. He used to think it was because Bucky thought he was weak. But in reality, its because Bucky is the best friend a guy could ask for.

Bucky turns the heat up before making the call. It’s pretty late at this point, so Pepper tells them to come down tomorrow and they will take a look at him. Bruce can be there in the morning to help. Bucky hates that, hates that he has to wait. He is worried about Steve and wants answers now. But he knows she is right. They should just rest, but first thing in the morning Bucky will be down there with Steve. 

He makes his way back to Steve’s bedroom not bothering to knock on the half-opened door, wishing he did though. Steve was facing away from him, but he was naked, ass in full view of Bucky. Even when he was small and skinny, Bucky thought he had a fantastic ass, not that anyone would have been able to tell back in the day, Steve always wore clothes too big for him. Bucky blushes as he tries to get out without Steve noticing him, but he is distracted, clumsily bumping into the door framing, causing a loud bang. Steve, turns around, suddenly covering up with the shirt that is in his hand and turning red.

Bucky stumbles through an apology. “I am so sorry…sorry…I…uh...” before just running out of the room like an embarrassed school girl. 

Smooth Barnes. He thinks to himself as he slumps down on the couch. He doesn’t know why he got so flustered, it's not like he hasn’t seen Steve naked before, changing around each other all the time as kids. Well, until his dad said they were too old to be getting dressed around each other. That was also the same time his dad had told him that they were too old to be “hugging like that”, too old to be holding hands, “Boys your age don’t need to be that affectionate with their friends'' and “Do you want folks to think you are a pansy?” Bucky closes his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to rid his mind of that memory. He thanks god that his dad never found out how he really felt for his best friend. Not that Steve felt that back, so nothing happened but still. Steve was just a good guy. He sits and tries not to drown in his thoughts. 

~

Steve can’t believe Bucky just walked in on him like this. He feels so unattractive, so weak, and sickly. His mom had told him once that he was just a "late bloomer, but he was still a very handsome person that any girl would be "lucky to have", a sentiment that Bucky would back her up on. He never believed them, and without the serum he would have never "bloomed." To be fair, he also didn’t want "any girl". He just wanted Bucky. And he knows Bucky is not checking him out, why would he be? But if Bucky were to see him naked, he would have preferred it would have been in his serum enhanced body, strong and not so fragile. 

He sighs to himself and goes back to what he was doing, looking for something, anything he could wear without it practically falling off him. It's hopeless, so he settles on a pair of boxers that happened to be too small prior to today, now having to roll the waistband to get them to stay up. As far as clothing though, he doesn’t even have a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight enough to prevent from falling off. He frowns to himself, knowing Bucky was a little smaller than him, not quite having the same muscle mass. Maybe he has at least a shirt he could wear and a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight. Bucky does have some pretty tight shirts he wears when he is working out. Steve begins automatically blushing, picturing the way they cling to his muscular chest after working out, before shaking his head back to the current moment.

Given the embarrassing situation that just occurred, he is a little apprehensive about asking. But he knows he has to, already feeling terribly cold in just these oversized boxers. He calls timidly from his room. "Buck?"

His voice snaps Bucky out of his thoughts, instinctively jumping to his feet to see what Steve needs. Walking in this time, he is met with Steve staring at the floor, obviously embarrassed, clad only in some comically large boxers and socks. He feels bad for his friend, who is clearly struggling with this. He tries to stay calm, not letting it show that he thinks Steve looks absolutely adorable...and fucking hot. 

Honestly though, Bucky has thought Steve has looked hot, both when he was skinny and when he was muscular, but he has always had a soft spot for his pre-serum appearance, loving how perfectly Steve fit under his arm when he used to pull him close "to keep him warm." He is also very careful about not staring down at the boxers, knowing from accidental glimpses when they lived together in the tiny one bedroom tenement, that even before the serum, Steve was packing a lot more than you would think by looking at him. Bucky had spent countless nights picturing what it would feel like if it was inside of him, ultimately just hurting himself more with fantasies that would never come true.

Realizing quickly that he had been standing there awkwardly in silence, Bucky speaks up. "Um, what did you need pal?"

Steve refuses to look at him, Bucky understanding that this is definitely pretty hard for him. The blonde shyly asks "Um...all my clothes are too big. And um...I know you wear a slightly smaller size. Do you have anything that is tight on you that I could wear?"

Bucky lets out a small huff from his nose, smiling as he says, "Sure thing, give me one moment." Without another word, Bucky turns around and walks out of the room towards his own. 

His thoughts have been in a constant struggle with themselves since this happened. He is worried beyond belief for Steve, and what this all means to him. Will he get sick again? Can he be changed back? Should he be changed back? Is it safe? But then a part of himself, a part that he hates, is so turned on by Steve right now, having not seen him like this in years. He is having feelings he has no right to have. He is always attracted to Steve (inside and out), it's always there, and punctuating all their interactions, even if Steve couldn't see it. He was head over heels for the man. But he hates that right now while Steve is in such emotional distress, that he had the nerve to still let his head wander into fantasies. He is appalled by himself and his fucked-up head.

As he reminds himself of his continued shortcomings, he grabs his tightest pair of pants, a pair of compression running leggings, the ones he usually wears underneath some of his other pants. He hopes the stretchiness of them means they are small enough to fit on Steve. He grabs a t-shirt he recently got that is too tight on him, never wearing it but buying it at a yard sale because he had to have it. It's a little embarrassing though, pretty sure Steve has not even seen it before. It was a Captain America shirt from the 80s with a fade shield across the front of it. Bucky had tried it on once, though it was too small for him to even justify it as a workout top.

He anxiously walks back to Steve’s room, trying to make up a lie about the shirt other than "I like it because it makes me think of you and sometimes I take it with me on missions so I can pretend you are with me." Luckily when he hands Steve the clothes, Steve only raises his brow for a second, before smiling and nodding in gratitude for the clothes. Bucky sees himself out Steve could get dressed. 

After a little bit, Steve joins him out into the living room. Bucky has to hide a smile when he sees Steve in his clothes. The shirt is still too big for Steve and he can tell the pants must be pulled up high above his waist. Steve chooses not to acknowledge it, opting instead to sit down on the couch next to Bucky.

Steve doesn’t want things to be weird. Today has been weird enough, and the last thing he wants right now is his best friend being freaked out around him too. Steve, in the most casual voice he could muster says “Want to order a pizza and watch a movie?” His blue eyes stare, waiting as Bucky turns to look at him.

He simply replies “Sounds good, Stevie. I can call and you pick out the movie?” Steve nods before bending down to look at their collection of VHS tapes (they like those better than a million different streaming services.) He listens as Bucky orders, as he grabs their copy of Snow White. It always serves as a comfort, something connected to their time. He and Bucky went and seen it in the theater. Bucky had secretly saved a little extra to take Steve. Steve cherishes that memory, one of many.

Bucky for his part does everything in his power to not steal a glimpse of Steve’s ass in those leggings, scolding himself when he does anyways. Little does he know; Steve always takes any opportunity he can to check Bucky out. 

Once the pizza arrives, they settle onto the couch, and watch the movie. The pizza box starts between them, on the middle cushion as they eat. But halfway through the movie, Bucky can see Steve is shivering, the apartment still too cold for him and his body, that was lacking the ability to properly circulate his blood. He says quietly “Stevie…do you…” he blushes, embarrassed for what he is about to ask, turning his cheeks pink. He reminds himself that it is for Steve’s good. He continues. “Do you want to…cuddle?” Steve gives him a questioning look, so he quickly adds. ‘Because you're cold. I can tell you are shivering, man. Like when we were kids, you can steal my body heat. I’m basically a human radiator.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

But Steve, regardless, looks anxious as he tentatively nods, moving the pizza box to the floor as he scoots closer, moving very close to Bucky. He looks expectantly at the bigger man to raise his arm so he can press against him, hoping he doesn’t come off as desperate and weak. But Bucky smiles as he obliges, lifting his arm and pulling Steve to his side, arm fitting perfectly around him, like Bucky was made just for Steve. He wants to melt into the feeling. He wants Bucky to never let go.

Steve is careful to keep looking forward, to not let himself get distracted and drawn in by his friend. But it is hard. He has been in love with Bucky since he was 14 years old. He always walked a thin line between appreciating Bucky’s touch as a way to get warm, like when he was sick, or in the one bedroom tenement they were living in together didn’t have proper heat, and loving Bucky's touch as something more. Just wanting to feel Bucky's skin on his, even if it was a selfish little fantasy. But he always craved that touch. Even little things like when he would put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, or when Bucky would playfully throw his arms around Steve.

But he noticed that since the serum, Bucky had touched him less. Less casually pulling him in by the shoulders and just walking with his arm around him, or climbing in bed to keep him warm. Obviously, he didn’t need that second one any more, but he was desperate for something. Anything. Sometimes he would just squeeze Bucky’s  shoulder, or pat him on the back just to feel him. Sometimes when Bucky had a nightmare, Steve would hold him, but that was only because Bucky was scared. No joy in that touch. On rare occasions  they would hug, and if he thought about it too long, he could swear something more was there.

Lost in his thoughts, he does not realize the movie has ended until Bucky yawns, snapping him out of his head. "Hey, Stevie I think I'm going to hit the hay. You should too, we are going down to see Bruce and Pepper early tomorrow. Night, man." Steve is still staring ahead but he feels Bucky start to untangle himself from him. As Bucky stands up, Steve does not want the sensation to end, not wanting to lose the touch he desperately needs, the only silver lining of this whole ordeal. 

Without putting any thought into it, he reaches for the bottom hem of Bucky's shirt as the other man had turned to walk away. Bucky freezes as Steve hurriedly lets go of his shirt, feeling ridiculous. Steve whispers in a voice that is barely audible. "Can I sleep with you? I'm cold." He feels guilty, knowing he isn't saying the whole truth. He is cold but could have done with a pile of blankets, they aren't in the depression anymore with only one blanket each. This was 2024 and they are way better off now. But he wasn't ready to lose Bucky's touch again.

Bucky clears his throat, suddenly hard to breathe, lump forming before he can swallow it down. Steve wants to sleep with him and Bucky wants this so bad. But he has to remind himself that this is for Steve to stay warm, not because he wanted him. His love fogged mind coupled with his own self-dislike, prevented him from putting together that Steve had blankets to keep him warm. He looks back to Steve, whose face seems torn by something,  maybe guilt? Bucky didn’t want his friend to feel guilty so he finally replies. "Of course, Stevie."

Steve’s eyes light up for a moment before he reminds himself not to be so…obvious. Bucky thinks he saw something but plays it off as Steve being relieved over Bucky not making this situation any more awkward. He watches Steve smile shyly as he gets off the couch silently, ready to follow him to his bedroom, so he leads the way.

Once in there, Steve just crawls into bed like it was nothing. He figured he might as well rip the bandage off and just do it. He stays completely dressed because he really was freezing in the apartment. Bucky on the other hand was extremely warm, not used to sleeping with the heat on so high. He doesn’t know how uncomfortable Steve would be if he slept in his boxers but decides to do it anyways. It would be more suspicious of him not to. He knows Steve isn’t dumb and has to realize that he would be extremely warm in these temperatures. 

So, Bucky slides out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, throwing them into his hamper. Steve tries his hardest not to watch, turning on his side to avert his eyes. He pretends to be preparing to fall asleep, but, in reality, he is attempting to bargain with his heart to not pound right out of his chest and fly away. They haven’t slept together in more than 80 years, not since before the war. 

While Steve is busy forcing himself to pretend to try and fall asleep, Bucky sneaks a look over at the blanket, letting himself smile at the lump under the hidden beneath, blonde hair peeking out. He makes his way over to the other side of his full-sized bed and slides in under the covers. It feels like the most normal thing in the world, like things are more normal than they have been in a long time. He reaches over, turning out the light, before scooting close to Steve. Again, he reminds himself that he is just helping him stay warm. He pulls Steve’s back against his chest, wrapping his arm over his hip. For a moment, Bucky wonders if he is over doing it, if this is too far for Steve. 

Steve forgets how to breathe for a moment when he feels himself pressed against Bucky’s body so tightly. He worries he may have an asthma attack. He doesn’t remember them ever being so close, well when they were awake that is. Usually they would only get like this in their sleep. Steve remembers one particular time when he was 19, when he woke up in this position, with the still sleeping brunette’s morning wood pressed against his ass. He had to force himself out of bed and into a cold shower after that. All of this is to say that his position really did something to him, and it took all his energy to keep his breath steady. 

They lay in the dark, quietly like this for a while. For all of Steve’s worry, and all of Bucky’s self-doubt over this, both men were content. Both men lie together, keeping their secrets, but cherishing this moment. They lay for a long while before it is obvious that neither man is sleeping. It may be subtle, but it was impossible to not feel the electricity that filled the air around them and every space in between them. It was an energy that has been there for a while.  It was something that should have been obvious from the start if it weren’t for the fact that both of them were painfully oblivious. 

Steve shifts in the bed, turning so he is facing Bucky. Even in the dark, Bucky could see the light blue tones that make up Steve's eyes. He would be lying if he didn't admit they were the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He has been around the world, has seen so many beautiful things, He has seen sparkling oceans, the large majestic sweeping expanses that surrounded Wakanda, tall, purple mountains throughout Europe, but nothing he could think of could make him feel the way he felt whenever he stared into Steve's eyes.

There are some things he has never admitted to Steve about his time as the Winter Soldier. One of these things being that every so often, he was able to bust through, have a moment of clarity before frozen again. In those moments of clarity, he would think of these eyes, of being home.  Staring into Steve's eyes, whether Steve was hulking and muscular, or skinny and small, felt like home to him.

Seeing him like this, back to the way he was prior to war has reminded Bucky that beneath all the bravado and responsibility that came with Captain America, he was still Steve. His Stevie. He knew that though, but he has been so wrapped up in guilt for all Steve has done for him, as well as countless atrocities he has committed as the Winter Soldier, he had refused to think about it. Refused to get comfortable. Refused to just be with Steve, always feeling less then, undeserving. 

Steve was like the sun, bright and powerful. Bucky had always been content to be sucked into Steve’s gravitational pull. He felt like Steve was the reason he existed, giving him life. He was just a planet who was lucky enough to be pulled in by the sun. But the sun didn’t need the planet that revolved around it, and he always felt that at some level, Steve didn’t need him. He was afraid that if he tried to be more than a planet, wanting more from the sun, Steve could easily destroy him, reject him. 

But Steve has been there all along for him, never changing. Bucky had fallen all those years ago, losing his sun, ripping through space aimlessly. The sun had fought, got himself trapped in ice in the name of his planet. Waking up in the future, getting new planets, people finally seeing what Bucky had seen all along in Steve. But as soon as Steve saw that his planet was alive, he was willing to rip his new galaxy apart like it was nothing, to pull his first little planet back in. 

Steve had always loved Bucky, and Bucky had been so wrapped up in the fear of losing his sun, that he never let himself appreciate that. Maybe...maybe it was okay for Bucky to want more out of their friendship...because maybe Steve wanted more.

He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he reaches towards Steve's face, and rests his flesh hand on the golden-haired man's face. Both lay perfectly still for a few seconds before Steve closes his and lets out an anguished sigh. When they open back up, Bucky sees a tear running down Steve’s face, worry is coating his features, his brow scrunched up in a way that Bucky just wants to reach up and smooth out. In a soft voice, the brunette asks "Stevie....what is it...."

Steve closes his eyes again, taking a pained sigh as he moves his own hand softly over the hand resting on his face, doing his best to hold on for a moment longer before he comes clean. "I don't want you to hate me..."

Bucky feels his chest tensing up, not knowing what could have prompted Steve to say that. "What makes you think I could ever hate you? I don't think that is possible. " Bucky replies truthfully.

"It’s...just..." Steve takes a deep breath, before sitting up and staring down at Bucky. Bucky frowns at the loss of contact before sitting up as well, facing the blonde who looked like he might break if Bucky stared too hard. He continues, "It's just, I didn’t need you to keep me warm, Buck."

"What?" Bucky stares back, genuine  confusion on his face.

"We have plenty of blankets now, I would have been fine in my own bed. But since this happened, earlier I hated it. I hated feeling small again, weak and sickly. But...there was some good. You...you were holding onto me again, like you would when we were younger….and I missed feeling your arms around me. " Steve is blushing like crazy. "And when we were on the couch, it felt so good for you to be holding onto me, and so I lied. I didn’t want it to end...so I told you I needed you to keep me warm. I'm so sorry, Buck. You must think I'm a freak." Steve takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling the covers off, readying himself to stand up. He stutters "I'm going to go to my own room now…I'd appreciate it if you never bring this up again. I am so sorry."

Bucky is confused, trying to put together what is happening. Before he could respond, Steve had shuffled out of his room, leaving him alone.

~

Steve drops onto his bed, mortified at himself. He really was pathetic, too scared to even stay and find out the fall out of what he has done. He just admitted to his best friend that he lied to him and used him all because of he wanted to be touched. He wishes he didn’t have this weird crush on him. But he does and for him it has always been Bucky, and probably will always be. It wasn't fair to push that on Bucky, though. He buries himself in blankets, dreading what the morning will bring. 

He lays there for a few minutes, mauling over what will happen. Will Bucky move out? Will he not talk to anymore? Did he just mess up everything? All the worse scenarios play in his mind like a horror movie. He feels a tear run down his face and he just lets it happen. Soon tears are covering his pillow,the dam broken, his body shaking. He feels like he will never stop, terrified he just lost his best friend.

He is so wrapped up in his own mess, he doesn't hear the door opening. But then he feels the nattress shift as someone gets inside the covers on the other side. He doesn't turn his head, afraid that he is just imagining it, that he is going to lose whatever is there if he looks. But then he hears "Hey Stevie…I'm cold."

Steve’s head is spinning, what is going on. He finally gets the nerve to turn around,  finding a beautiful brunette, his Bucky, smiling at him. "Buck….what are you doing?"

He softly replies "I just told you, I'm cold and need someone to cuddle with, is that okay?"

Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face as the last few rebel tears fall. Something tells him that the shirtless man in front of him was in no way cold, but he plays along. "Yea, its alright. Will alway be alright…."

With that, Bucky pulls Steve into his arms, Steve’s head falling onto his chest as the other man holds him close. Both men able to fiy fall asleep.

Maybe not quite a confession yet, but its babysteps. As long as they keep moving forward,they could take their time getting there.

[undercoverclover]

No Matter Where

Part 3

Genre: Fluff? 

Pairing: Chan x Original Character

Warning: N/A

Part 1, 2

Summary: Liliana’s vacation with her 2 best friends ends up being a trip to remember.

We were so tired from jet lag that after dinner we went back to the hotel. "I'm ready for bed." Ria said stretching. "Same, I think we can go out tomorrow night. Let's crawl in the beds, watch a movie and go to sleep." Anya suggested.

"We could, I'm really tired now though." I say through a yawn.

"But, I'll attempt to watch a movie."

"Great! I'll make popcorn!" Ria said, smiling and getting up.

"Don't make me any, I probably won't eat any." I didn't want to think about eating right now.

After waiting for an answer and holding out long enough to watch the movie, or attempt to, I passed out right as the ending credits began to roll.

*Buzz Buzz Buzz*

I kept hearing some weird noise.

*Buzz Buzz Buzz*

I look for the phone and answer still half asleep,

1:26 a.m.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Hello? Liliana?" Yuchan replies.

It takes a minute for my brain to realize and my eyes fly open, remembering I didn't have MY phone.

"Oh! Shi-.. Hello, hi Yuchan"

"Sorry, were you asleep?"

"I was, but that's okay."

"I'm deeply sorry, I just now got out of practice. I didn't realize what had happened. I normally shut my phone off then."

"That's okay. By chance, what's the time?" I ask not wanting to hit the bright light on the phone. Ria stirs and I try to talk quieter.

"Oh, um. It's 1:27 a.m. Sorry I guess this could have waited til morning."

My mouth dropped open for lack of something to say

"Oh.. it- that's okay." I manage to finally say. "So are you wanting to switch back phones soon?" I ask, making my heart skip.

"Yeah, I kinda need to." He mutters.

"Okay, when? In the morning?" I suggest.

"Hmm, no not in the morning. Not since it's so late already and I'm just now headed home. How about tomorrow afternoon?"

"Mmm, I think I told the girls I'd take them to lunch. It's my turn to pay." I groan realizing it is in fact my turn to pay.

He laughs at me and I smile.

I love his laugh so much.

"Hmm okay." He finally answers, still smiling, "We will figure it out."

"Sounds good." I say smiling back.

Then realization dawns on me. "What are you doing tomorrow night?" I ask.

What gave you the nerve to ask?! Shut up Liliana. Don't you dare keep it going.

"I have practice, but I'm sure since this is kind of important, I can leave early. What's up?"

"Um, well." And then I hear a click. "Hello?" I say.

Well fudge… I guess my phone died? I put his phone on charge when I was about to go to sleep. He just now turned my almost dead phone on.

"Oops."

I ended up pulling up Kakao again to message him, well me?

Me: Liliana, again. Sorry for killing my phone before this happened.

Liliana, what are you doing? I erased the message and started again.

I have to go out tomorrow night with the girls, but if you want to I can let you know where I am and we can switch phones back then. I hit send.

Short and to the point. Good enough.

I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling.

How am I supposed to sleep now? I’m wide awake.

It’s been like 2 conversations and a day. I’ll only be here a week. Quit going through the motions woman.

I drift off to sleep sometime later.

“Liliana, wake up.” Ria said as she threw a pillow at me.

“I don’t wanna,” I turn over, “It’s too early for life.”

“It’s like 10 a.m. get up!” She says as she comes over and starts bouncing on my bed.

“I got woken up at 1 okay, give me like, 10 more minutes.” I grumble and pull the blanket over my head.

“By who? What’d you do, sneak out? You gotta give me details!” She asks almost too excitedly.

“No, I did not sneak out. Yuchan called me after he got out of practice and finally turned my phone on.” I sat up and faced her. “Why are you like this?” I ask as I stare at her.

She shrugged and smiled like she had no idea what I was talking about.

“Then my phone died before we got a chance to decide on how to switch back phones today. I messaged him, but I haven’t checked it since I just woke up.”

Trying to hide anything from either of them was nearly impossible. Being best friends and roommates for close to two years does that to you.

You’d think she chose to believe me… I don’t think she wanted to though.

“What are you two doing in here? Can we please hurry up and go get some actual breakfast?” Anya said, coming out of the bathroom and seeing she had changed out of her pajamas.

“I guess we better. We have a long few days ahead.” Ria said happily.

I swear if I’d come by myself this wouldn’t have happened. But, if I had, I wouldn’t have been with the two people who’ve been by me through everything lately.

****

12:31 p.m.

*Buzz Buzz*

Yuchan: Hello Liliana, I think we could work it out so I can come and get my phone from you tonight. Is that still okay?

Me: Yes, I mean as long as I can have my phone back too… :)

Yc: Of course! Haha sorry, so we can return each other’s phones. Does that sound more appropriate? XD

Me: Sounds much better, thank you. >.<

Yc: Okay, what time should I meet you? I should get out of practice around 8 p.m.

Me: Mmm I think we are headed to the club about 10 tonight? So, if you want to meet right before then, that would be awesome.

Yc: Deal. See you tonight, Liliana.

I sent back a smile, letting him know I agreed and I'd see him tonight.

I was actually kind of nervous and I shouldn't be.

8:09 p.m.

“Are you ready Lili?” Anya asks, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Just about, I have like 4 more pieces of my hair left to straighten. I say just as I finish up my hair."

"Okay, just waiting on you." She says and walks away.

I walk out of the bathroom 5 minutes later, ready to go.

"You're going in that?" Ria asked and Anya looked back at me, half in a pose to put her shoes on.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I ask, completely confused.

I had on skinny jeans and a cute black and red sweater. That plus my straight hair pulled halfway up, I thought I looked cute.

"There's nothing wrong with it, if you're planning on going to the coffee shop."

Oh geez. I'm about to get a makeover, aren't I?

"My twin, you know me better than that." Ria smirks and gets up to go over to my clothes I'd brought.

"Ria, we don't have time for this if we want to be there at 10." I say, hoping she won't realize I'm pushing to leave.

*BUZZ BUZZ* I go to take the phone out of my pocket.

"Put that away for a moment. It's not like you're going to give it back until one of us messages him for you." Ria says, coming to drag me over to the bed.

Little did she know, I already had…

She looks at me dumbfounded, "Where are all of your dressy clothes?"

"Do I look like I own dressy?" I state.

"You do too! I've bought you some!" She says, her voice going up an octave...or 3.

"Ria? I didn't pack them."

"Liliana May!" She puts her hands on her hips and stares at me.

"What did I do now?" I say and put my hand over my eyes.

Maybe I'll disappear and she will go away.

"Listen miss thing. It's been 3 years since you cut the dumbass loose. THREE. You need to get out there and have fun. Even if you don't find someone right now, you can enjoy yourself while he takes his slow ass time getting to you." She throws every word at me so they stick.

She doesn't say it hatefully, but she knows how to say it, so my brain will stop overthinking.

"I- '' I start to say something before she jumps back in.

"No but about it. You're having fun." She walks over to her suitcase and sets it on the bed.

I think Anya has left until I look over and her hand is over her mouth while she's watching to see who will come unglued first. I think she was more shocked that I hadn't said anything about my wardrobe.

"I will have fun, in what I'm wearing." I say and cross my arms.

"This is one time woman. I swear to God, I WILL throw soda all over that outfit so you'll have to change." She looks daggers through me.

Okay, so no need to argue today over a stupid outfit.

"One time Ria. ONE!" I say strictly. She claps and pulls out a black, short dress. The dress was gorgeous, the bottom was short, but there was a 2 inch piece of black lace that went past the hem. It wasn't spaghetti straps either, it was elegant lace straps kind of like Cinderella's but not poofy. Realization dawned on me. And it was not in Ria's size. She smiled from ear to ear and I've never seen her so happy.

"Wait a damn minute." I say grabbing the dress and looking at the size.

It wasn't hers like I'd thought. It was mine.

"So, you knew? You knew I wouldn't pack anything too dressy." I glare and I glare hard.

I hear Anya cackling over in her seat and quick glare at her too. She clamps her hands over her mouth still trying to suppress her laugh.

She smiles and tilts her head.

"Of course I knew! You are my twin!"

"UGH! Oh my G-God! Wa- why?" I say, stuttering.

*I've stuttered ever since I can remember. I have to really think about what I'm saying in order to not stutter.*

"Because you've lost so much weight and worked so hard to make yourself happy. You look great despite what you think!" Ria says.

"I second this!!" Anya yells in.

"Dammit guys!" I say defeated. I couldn't argue with them. I'd lose.

I don't feel like I'm pretty or beautiful or even remotely good looking, but they always try to tell me that I don't see the real me.

So for once. I gave up.

"I'll try. One night. But, I'm taking extra clothes and I'm taking my jacket." I say looking at them and judging.

"Yay! Yay yay yay!" Ria says jumping up and down.

I quickly went back into the bathroom and changed. Feeling so uncomfortable but decided I'd take one, just to make them happy that I'm trying.

After our back and forth, we got our shoes on and headed out to meet the taxi.

"The temperature outside is perfect spring weather! I wish it would come back to the states with us." I say as we open the door to the car waiting and pile in.

[parkkjiminssi]

I Would

one shot.

genre: angst, fluff?

warnings: mentions about virginity and relationship problems. profanity.

a/n: eh, I might be a bit rusty so if there’s typos please ignore them. I’ll fix them later.

It was a bit past 11:00PM when Jimin finally arrived to his apartment. It had been a busy day at the police station, which had resulted in him getting two more cases added to his already big workload. Jimin was a good detective and his colleagues depended on him, which made it hard for him to refuse even though he knew it was more than he could handle.

As he walked up the remaining steps that led up to his apartment, Jimin was already thinking about how he was going to go in a bit earlier the following day to be able to get some of the work done in time. However, his thoughts were interrupted at the sight of you sitting in front of his door. Waiting for him.

Jimin let out a deep sigh because he knew why you were here. You had another fight with your boyfriend. He couldn’t say that to you though, instead, he walked up to you and offered you his hand to help you up.

“Have you been waiting long?” He asked.

“O-oh no, I just got here.” You lied. And he knew you were lying but he didn’t wanted to add anymore salt to the wound.

“Come in, I’ll make you something warm to drink.” Jimin said as he unlocked his door and stepping aside to let you go in first.

Jimin and you had been friends since high school. The two of you went to college together and although he decided to study criminal justice and you studied journalism, the two of you kept your friendship intact throughout the years. That is until a couple of years ago, when you started dating this guy from your job at the tv station. When Jimin first found out about this guy, he felt happy for you. Truly happy. You were always so focused in school and work that you hardly spent time on yourself. He hoped he would treat you the way you deserved and that he made you happy. But a few months into the relationship was when your nightly visits started happening.

Jimin remembers how you used to say that the day you had a boyfriend you’d want to do this or that. You were always talking about cheesy things or romantic things that you’d like to do. He’s not going to lie, some of them seemed pretty cool. However, your current boyfriend didn’t seem to think so. Every time you’d bring up something you wanted to do or try, he’ll say no but then the next day he’ll go out and do something with his friends that was either similar or the same thing you wanted to do. You’ll feel bad and ask him about it and then a huge fight will break out between you and your boyfriend. Which then led to you sitting outside of Jimin’s apartment waiting for him to arrive from work.

Once inside his apartment, Jimin handed you a blanket as you sat on his couch before making his way to his kitchen to make you some coffee.

“How was your day at work?” He heard you ask from the other room.

“Oh you know. The usual.” Jimin started saying. “I can never say no, so I ended up taking more cases than I can actually handle. Now I have to go in earlier tomorrow so I can get some out of the way.”

You giggled. “You’re too nice Jimin! You should learn to say no.”

“What’s up with you?”

“The usual as well.” You replied. “Work is work and my boyfriend just prefers to be with his friends than with me.”

And you started telling Jimin all about your latest fight. About how you had asked your boyfriend to go bike riding with you and how he said no because you were too weak and it would be annoying to purposely slow down just so you can keep up with him.

Jimin could see how tears were dwelling in your eyes. He could see how hurt and frustrated you were. It hurt him to see you like this but yet, he couldn’t understand why you were still with him.

“You deserve so much more.” Jimin mumbled without realizing that he was saying this out loud and not in his head.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused because this was the very first time that Jimin had said something like this bout your whole situation. It usually was you complaining, him comforting you and telling you everything was going to be okay, to you sleeping over, only to find that he was gone to work when you awoke and had left you breakfast prepared.

Jimin took a deep breath before speaking. Might as well just say everything now that it’s out, right?

“What I mean is that you deserve so much more than this. Y/N, you deserve someone who wants to spend time with you all the time and is excited to hear all your stories. Someone who doesn’t mind going out of his way to meet you after a long day of work and that will send you flowers to work when it’s your birthday despite how cheesy it is. Not only that but you deserve someone who won’t mind make random trips to random locations, because as long as you’re together then everything is alright. You deserve someone that won’t mind slowing down for you just so you are able to keep up and he’s there looking over you in case you trip or something.” He finally said everything that had been building up in the back of his mind and that he was too afraid to say because he didn’t wanted to lose you as a friend. But you needed to hear this and he wanted to make sure that you received the message loud and clear. “If I was your boyfriend, I would never let a single tear fall down your face unless it was for happiness.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “So you think so too?”

“Huh?” Your reply took Jimin completely by surprise.

“You know, I know that I deserve better but at the same time I’m scared that this is as good as it gets. That maybe no one else will like me and if they do they probably won’t like the fact that I’ve been intimate before with another guy.” You explained. “I’ve invested so much time and effort into this relationship that I just can’t walk away.”

“I’m sorry but that just doesn’t make sense.” Jimin looked at you feeling anger and sadness. “You can’t possibly just stay with a person because you’ve been with them for a long time. What about your feelings? Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think so.”

“If you’re so unsure about your feelings then you shouldn’t continue with him, specially because he doesn’t treat you with the most loving feelings either.” Jimin quickly answered.

“So easy for you to say. You’re a guy.” You quickly snapped.

Jimin frowned at you. “What does that even mean, Y/N?”

“Well for guys it’s easier to find someone else.” You started raising your voice. This was the first time in years that Jimin and you had argued. “The don’t have to wait a grieving period. They can just start dating by the very next day and in a few months get married. For girls it’s different. They have to wait before dating again, otherwise they’ll be judged. Then they need to wait until the guy proposes and that can take years. YEARS! You hear me? And then—.”

“Oh my God, shut up already.” Jimin interrupted you angrily. “Y/N, times have changed. Besides, why do you care so much about other people’s opinion? You’re you and you need to live your life the way YOU want to. At the end of the day, we only live once. You don’t want to look back in a few years and say ‘I should’ve done this or I should’ve done that.’ No! It’s better to say ‘oh well’ instead of ‘what if’.”

“Okay Mr. Know It All, then what guy in the radius of 10 miles would date a girl who’s no longer a Virgin?” You asked knowing deep inside that he wouldn’t know the answer that.

“I would.”

“Exactly! Wait what?” You had to take a double take. You heard wrong, right?

“I said that I would.” Jimin reinterated. “Y/N, there’s more to a person than just that. You’re an amazing person, you have a great personality, you’re funny, you’re kind, sweet, selfless. You’re beautiful! If a guy overlooks all of that just because you’re no longer “pure”, then that guy is shit.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” You looked at him for the very first time since you arrived. Finally feeling less sorry about yourself and more in control of the situation.

“Dump him through text! What do you mean what?” And just with that the tension between the two of you was gone.

The two of you spent several minutes trying to perfect the text so that way you could finally close this difficult chapter in your life and be able to start a new one.

After what seemed hours, you were finally done and Jimin quickly clicked send before you had time to doubt yourself. Plus you blocked his number before he had any time to reply and pull you back into his spell.

“Jimin, thank you.” You finally said after a long moment of silence. “Thank you for being my friend and thank you for giving me the strength to take this difficult step. I had been thinking about doing this for the longest time but I never gathered the courage to do it.”

“Hey, don’t thank me.” Jimin started saying as he wrapped his arms around you shoulder and pulled the blanket up to cover you. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of you crying over someone who don’t deserve your tears. Now let’s go to sleep, I need to be up in four hours thanks to you.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault?! Who wanted to send a double page breakup essay, MLA style?” You exclaimed as you nudged him on the ribs.

“O-ow! Hey! You have be throughout otherwise he won’t get the message.” He said while trying to stop you from taking the blanket and leaving him uncovered.

A couple of minutes passed and although you were most likely asleep, Jimin decided to just come out and say it. What could be the worst thing that could happen other than you already be asleep?

“Hey, so after you’re done with your grieving period or whatever. Would you like to go out for ice cream or you wouldn’t want to go out with me because we’ve been friends for a long time?”

No answer.

Yup, most definitely asleep. Jimin thought.

More minutes passed and just as he was about to fall asleep, your reply took away any feeling of sleepiness that he had.

“I would.”

Oh boy, he was surely going to need at least 10 cups of coffee to survive through the day.

This sleepless night was well worth it, though.

You’re worth it. He though as he snuggled you closer to his chest.

[parkeraul]

→ boyfriend  •  1 | t.h. & s.m.

prologue | part 1

author’s note — hello, girlfriends. first of all, i really wanna apologise for the lack of writings lately & for this shitty moodboard. plus, i wanna give the hugest shoutout to @itrocksmysocks who’s been sending me pictures and stuff to help me get inspiration to write this series [thank u so much, latina neighbour!]. for now, i’m gonna update this series once in a week, then the next i’m gonna reserve the next one to write, then update on the following week and it’ll go on and on. enjoy!

pairing: tom holland x shawn mendes x reader college!tom | college!shawn

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

words — 3,4k; warnings — flirting, cursing, mentions of alcoholic drinks.

“People on the very back: Listen!” Mrs. Edwards shouts, banging against the board twice with her pen. “This graphic is very simple, okay? If you keep on talking and talking, it’ll become your worst nightmare and there will be no help during the final test.”

The white board had been completely taken over by lists of informations, numbers, theories  and graphics in at least 3 different colours. It’s been an hour or almost two since she started crossing the entire board with red, green, blue & black and Tom feels amazed by how well she manages to understand the entire system she’s been writing for so many time. As a class he signed for just to have some more complementary hours, he can straight tell you he’s not exactly caring about it that much. It’s way too fast and too mathematic for his mind.

All the people sitting around him in the classroom are already letting the tiredness consume them. Some are sighing and dropping their pencils; some are rubbing their faces repeatedly; some others are actually paying attention and probably trying hard not to freak out. Considering the white walls with white tables and chairs, if no one said that this is a math class, people would probably walk in and think it’s a sanatorium. All faces exhausted and it’s clear to see that at least 90% of the class can’t wait for the summer break to rescue them all — the 10% left is filled with the boys that have been sleeping for the past 30 minutes.

“Next class we’ll get back to the basic analysis to freshen up a bit, I recommend you to bring one or two books to do some research as well—“

“Hey, dude,” Jacob whispers close to Tom, sitting on the chair in front of him as he turns his head — far enough to see Tom leaning in through his peripheral, but not far enough to lose sight of Mrs. Edwards giving further endorsements. “Match tomorrow at 5?” “Sure,” Tom agrees, keeping his ‘attentive’ on the teacher in front of the class. “Have you guys picked the entire team already?” He says nonchalantly. It’s typical: In Fridays, after everyone’s last class, friendly football match with the boys from the athletic team of the Empshire University.

“Ian, Ryan, Heather and Matthew: You guys cannot miss the next class at all. You guys have been bailing for a long time and one more skip it’s deadline for the four of you—“

“Same thing,” Jacob says and Tom starts to close his books, pulling his backpack up to tuck them inside of it haphazardly. “But we’ll add John Mayer to it because Kevin’s not coming.” “You don’t have to say John Mayer, his gang’s not here,” They both look around the classroom, failing at being discreet as they search for any friends of… Well… ’John Mayer’.  Tom zips his bag close and Jacob turns around to do the same while everyone else’s already prompting themselves up to leave. “And you better put him in the defenders, far away from the frontline.” “I knew you’d say this!” They laugh under their breaths, also getting up to finally inspire some fresh air outside.

“See you next Thursday.” Mrs. Edwards says almost quietly, arranging her stuff while the room starts to get empty.

The corridor had never felt this comfy before. It’s crowded and a little bit loud but a lot better than Classroom number 9. As students from all courses starts talking to each other, Tom takes a look across the wall and spots new posters.

This wall is known as The Great Wall of Empshire —or Wall–E for the intimates. The Wall–E is a large blue wall that stands out from the regular white & grey ones of the building. Also, is where students pin folders and posters to warn the whole college about whatever seems to be relevant. It mostly holds notices of people looking for roommates, lost & found stuff, a special space painted in red for teacher’s announcements and messages from the secretariat of the university. As the results of the finals and classes stuff starts to fade away, the posters to summer parties slowly take over the big blue rectangle in the exact middle of the corridor to one of the two buildings that build the Empshire University.

Coming closer, Tom watches Missy climbing tiny–trembling stairs to glue a folder about Musical Theatre auditions. She’s sure struggling and, although he feels bad, he laughs in anyways as low as he can. Obviously, he doesn’t come out as subtle as he planned and gets a very–stressed Missy Langford slicing his entire being in two with the mad look in her blue eyes.

“You’re being very helpful by laughing,” She huffs, tapping the big poster repetitively to make sure it won’t fall for the next week. “Asshole.” “Oh, Miss, come on,” He teases, smirking like the asshole she just called him. “I thought we were over that part. Asshole! – Idiot! – Douche! Get outta here! You know? Last summer’s business, love,” Tom brings up a memory they both shared some time ago, knowing how pissed she’d get with the dialogue all over Tom’s charming accent in a playful tone, which sure has nothing to do with the atmosphere of the moment itself. “I swear to God that if this thing was any stronger, I’d jump onto your face right now.” After rolling her eyes, Missy spits at Tom and sees his smile widening stupidly. “Anyways,” Crossing arms, Tom steps closer to the Wall–E and leans against a blank space. “What’s that?” “We’re doing Hairspray,” She answers flatly. “Not that you’re allowed to subscribe, of course.” “Who said?” Tom frowns and squeaks way louder than usual. What now? Is she going to forbid him to audition to an open–invitation? “Jesus.”   Tom’s jaw falls dramatically, “Oh! Swearing to God… Talking to Jesus, apparently,” He quirks an eyebrow, faking surprise. “Didn’t know you had friends outside college.” “Will you shut the fuck up and help me get down?” Missy gives the poster one last strong tap — probably thinking about slapping Tom’s face instead — and stretches an arm towards him. “Not that you deserve it, but–“

Tom goes silent at the moment he gets his back off the wall to help Missy, noticing Jacob coming closer suddenly with someone else.

“Is it here?” The person with Jacob asks, holding a big orange poster. “Yep,” He confirms. “We call it Wall–E!” The answer to his information is just a laughter that makes Tom immediately forget about giving Missy a hand, bringing him to step closer to the conversation. “Hey man, where were you?” At the moment Tom asks, Jacob instantly gets what he’s trying to do. Not that Tom wasn’t kinda nosy sometimes, but they’ve been hanging out enough for his moves to look predictable. Way too predictable. Jacob says nothing, only squints his eyes and the silence suiting the four of them is slightly uncomfortable. “Uhm… I asked him for help as he was waiting for people to open some space so we… Could… Walk until here.” The voice is hesitant and sweet, although, while Missy eyes the person — The person looks at Tom, then looks down — Tom looks back & Jacob watches Tom prepare a whole scene inside his mind. “There’s some tape upon that tiny cabinet that you can use,” Jacob points to the front, past Tom and Missy Langford, “And if you can put it wherever you want as long as it’s in the blue area.” “Thank you so much! I’ll help myself with anything, don’t wanna take more of your time.” “No worries,” Giving a smile, Jacob walks to the side and then to Tom, offering his hand to a high–five. “I think you’ll be okay.”

As he feels the deep gaze of his friend as he passes by, Tom understands the second intentions of the phrase as if Jacob had just said “very smooth, my friend, shoot your shot” and left. It’s not that Tom Holland is a complete womanizer — the term Prince Charming fits him better, he says —but everyone who knows him decently is aware of the fact that he has no time for bullshit. No ceremony, no playing around. If Tom Holland likes someone, he’ll sure let this person know and try a move. If it goes right then awesome! And if it goes wrong he won’t go bitter about it longer than two or three seconds. He’ll eventually forget even though he doesn’t want to.

The british boy watches another struggle. Tiptoeing, the other person lifts the poster to see if it’ll fit in the only larger space left on The Great Wall as Missy climbs down the stairs by herself, analyzing the entire scene with squinted eyes.

“Here, luv,” Tom gently moves closer and takes the poster in his hands. He tiptoes as well and reaches the blank spot easier. “I think it’ll fit, don’t ya?” “It sure will!” The answer comes out in a chuckle. “I don’t believe we met, actually,” With feet back on the floor, he holds the banner while he looks directly to the owner. There’s this stupid beautiful smile adorning his face kind of shyly, but surely threatening to widen more as his fingers run through his brown hair. “I’m sorry. I’m Y/N,” She says, smiling back at him and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and Tom notices the delicate pair of earrings shining through the locks. “Beautiful! Beautiful name,” His brows frown quickly, listening to her voice like his favourite band’s singing his favourite song of all time. His mouth wants to say ‘beautiful face too’ with ‘beautiful lips’ and a ‘beautiful eyes’, but his brain works harder to keep his dignity safe somehow. “And your name is?” Suddenly, his throat goes dry. He tries to clear it, eyes blinking rapidly and he stretches an arm to find support on the wall. The jeans on his legs goes tighter, the white t-shirt for summer weather feels hotter than a thousand coats and the backpack on his shoulder heavens like he’s carrying a bag filled with rocks. What the heck? “My name?” “No, idiot,” Missy says behind Tom. “My name.” Rolling eyes, Tom slightly turns around and clenches his jaw, looking at Missy Langford’s sarcastic face with everything but appreciation. “Will you shut the fuck up?” He mumbles through gritted teeth. “I’m tryna get lucky in here,” And this time who rolls eyes is Missy, fixing her yellow shirt and putting it back inside her blue jeans. “I’m Thomas, darlin’. You can call me Tom.”

Or future ex–boyfriend, Missy thinks to herself feeling a tiny bit of heartache annoying her chest. It’s been around four months since she argued with Tom, which led to their break–up. Well, Missy calls it a break–up. For Tom, nothing’s been broken up because what they had was just a thing, a sudden meeting of feverish hormones boiling through their bodies. No one ever kneeled down and asked gently, no one ever posted pictures online or introduced the other to their parents. He notices the way she’s still bitter about it, but after a thousand conversations and discussions, Tom had just decided to let her be until the ache goes away eventually, since his words were apparently not helping at all.

“Tom,” Y/N confirms, nodding along and looking at him. He reacts with a smile, coffee eyes drinking her in. “Thank you, Tom! I should probably go find that cabinet where the tape might be at—“ “I’ll show you!” Tom interrupts, prompting up his body and fixing his shirt. “By the way, what are you announcing? Do you need a place to stay or share?” “Oh, no! Not at all,” Y/N warns as soon as she drinks in the way Tom’s tone of voice fell worried. The boy looks down at the poster, trying to find the main information of the paper. “It’s just a party. You’re both invited, actually! It’s gonna be at my place… Tomorrow afternoon.”

Tom says nothing, just removes his eyes from the folder to look at Y/N’s charming smile. He didn’t need any more reasons to say something rather than yes — the other words slipping out of her mouth were soundless to him, his eyes were too hypnotized by the way her lips were moving; hypnotized in a way his ears stopped working for a moment but his head managed to nod along to whatever she proposed. Yes, yes and yes. A thousand times yes to whatever she just proposed.

“Well, I’ll find the tape to hang it on,” She comments, eyeing the couple as her feet start to plan their way to the middle of the corridor. “I hope you can make it.”

Her sweet smile makes it hard for Tom to think twice — not that he even considered doing this, but it’s new to him how the entire surrounding seems to slow down the pace and noise when Y/N simply breathes and smiles sweetly. This is not right, not one bit, he thinks. His heart never raced this fast before; his mouth never craved other lips as it’s doing at the moment but one thing is certain: this party’s going to ease down his thirst one way or another. Tom only realizes that Y/N went away when the frame in front of him becomes Missy. She’s got a smirk on her face and two of her fingers travel across his collarbone, right next to where his white shirt ends. She feels the warmth of his chest increasing underneath the pad of her index and middle fingers, eyes traveling across his softened expression.

“Pick me up at 2 o’clock tomorrow?” She asks rhetorically, melting slightly when he takes her hand to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

By the hand, he drags her body closer so he can murmur next to her ear the same word he’s been saying repeatedly for these past months.

“No.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were going to ditch us for that party tomorrow, you bitch!”

Shawn rolls his eyes, smiling widely as he manages to carry his backpack, water bottle and guitar case towards his car. Brian, on the other hand, doesn’t feel like smiling back.

“Answer me!”

“Dude?!” Shawn stops, putting down his case to grab the keys inside his pocket. “It’s just a football match, we do this every fucking week.”

“Exactly! We do this every fucking week—“

“Man, Y/N’s gonna be there,” He smiles again, pressing the button to unlock the doors. “You know how much I’ve been waiting for this day to come over.”

“Wasn’t she in London?” The redhead asks, walking beside his best friend as he bends down to get the guitar case once again.

Things are heavy in Shawn’s hands and back, but the thought of finally seeing Y/N again after a semester of torture shots a wave of numbness through his nerves. The blue shirt feels hotter and the black jeans are surely tighter, but the way his heart floats around his chest makes him feel light like a feather.

He misses her.

Misses her smile, her eyes, the sound of her voice and her laugh when he first talked about his feelings for her. Shawn noticed that she didn’t believe him at all, but that impression didn’t last long in his mind — the way Y/N got close to his lips to mumble sweet nothings had sent him to cloud 9. Then his trip flew down to hell just as quickly when she pulled away to walk past the door, leaving Shawn’s pout kissing the air and the side of his bed empty. Next thing he knew, Y/N was on a plane ready to spend half of the year exploring the british airs of South West London. The song he wrote about her ended up staying inside of his second drawer, but the long-sleeved jersey of his favourite Hockey team went away with her — making Shawn’s hand itch to find home on that body, taking back what’s his and what he wants to be his.

“Exactly,” He imitates Brian’s words. “Was.”

Brian says nothing, feeling defeated. His brows only lift while his eyes close, knowing that he can’t fight Shawn when he’s like this. Obsessed.

“You should come too,” He invites, putting the tip of his bottle inside his mouth to hold it while he pushes the door open. “Heard–Djulia–iths–gonha–be–ther’.”

His guitar case flies to the backseat along with his backpack, Shawn stepping to the side so Brian can tuck his stuff into the car too.

“I have no fucking idea of what you just said,” Brian tosses his bag while pointing one finger to Shawn. “But I’m not leaving my mates behind because of some girl.”

This time, the one to lift eyebrows is Shawn. His gaze narrows Brian as he hangs the driver’s door open.

“First, you know she’s not some girl,” He corrects. “Second, Julia is gonna be there. It’s a pool party, dumbass.”

While Brian walks to the passenger’s door, it’s like magic. Julia is out there, walking–dancing outside the campus with her friends around her, singing whatever song that was. His blue eyes can’t drift away from her until she’s disappearing behind the cars parked.

“Pool party?” He asks distractedly. “See, that’s the part I hadn’t understood before. I mean, I love football but you know I never say no to a party.”

Message from +44 20…: Hi!! You left before I could even ask for your number…

Y/N gets out of the shower to immediately find her phone buzzing and ringing. The screen doesn’t show the entire text, but she doesn’t need to think that much to figure it out. Opening the app, she finds a second message popping up right after.

+44 20…: I got it from the party poster, I hope you don’t mind

Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth, a stupid smiling drawing her face as the profile photo loads. There he is. Messy damp curls atop of a babyface, glasses in front of those chocolate eyes and bare chest. Whew. Typing, feeling like a teenager as her stomach gets butterflies, she can notice the way her breathing goes unpatterned.

You: hey, london boy. there’s no problem! i’m glad you did 😇

It’s fun to Y/N how the text got instantly seen, the ‘typing…’ showing up below the new saved contact’s name in seconds.

Tom (Empshire): 👀👀👀 Hahaha That’s good to know. I’m really looking forward to your party tomorrow

You: you’re gonna make it? that’s perfect 💓

Tom (Empshire): Of course I am! Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling

Unconsciously, Y/N’s legs clench together just to the imagination of his accent speaking these words loud and clear to her. Even with the dripping hair and body wrapped by just a towel, she jumps on her bed before she falls to the floor.

Tom (Empshire): Do I need to bring something?? Like beers and stuff

You: not really. unless u wanna drink something specific but as long as you’re here… just don’t forget your suit, darling 😛

If she only knew that Tom was exactly how she was picturing… Bare chest, wearing glasses, damp hair and thrown onto the sofa with a boyish grin. Tom honestly couldn’t think about smooth ways to flirt with her, he felt too intimidated — almost like Tom wasn’t Tom. Who would’ve guessed that Tom Holland could watch his moves to talk with a girl?

Tom (Empshire): I won’t haha

Then he couldn’t resist.

Tom (Empshire): Anyways, can’t wait to see you again… It was lovely to meet you earlier today. Good night, pretty one!

With burning cheeks and racing heart, Y/N twists in bed as she holds her phone for dear life. Coming back to the Empshire University fell flat at first, but with the taste of London still stuck in her life somehow, this looks as interesting as being in the United Kingdom itself — with a summertime way more catching than the winter. Her limbs couldn’t stop pulsing and the anticipation ran along her most sensitive spots mercilessly, making her thighs tighten even harder with a big smile tilting up the corners of her swollen lips from all the biting.

You: good night, t. can’t way to see you too. it’ll be awesome.

taglist of girlfriends: @lostinspidey – @goldenmndes – @shawnsunflower​ – @jawnjendes​ – @itrocksmysocks​ – @emilyxkate​ – @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ – @particularnervous​ – @grayxzabdixfer – @shawnssongs​ – @arypesanchez​ – @shawnmendes-s – @shawnsheaven​ – @mylifeisafxingmess​ – @perfectywrong​ – @whysparker​ – @blairscott​

tagging mutuals [if you wanna be untagged, please sorry in advance & let me know]: @mcuspidey​ – @devilmendes​ – @snowflakeparker​ – @strangertingle – @honeyrosemuffins​.

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [14]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12] [part 13]

Even if Will was a hair taller than him, he looked small and fragile, curled up in his hospital bed, surrounded by lights that never faded and mechanical sentinels, keeping watch over him 24/7. Does that bring comfort to him? Knowledge that a little piece of plastic stuck to his chest will know that something's wrong and call for help. Does he fear something bad might happen when he sleeps? Probably not, he was always surrounded by love. Maybe that's something for parents to feel. Maybe that's what being a parent fells like. The beanie on Will's head was grey, with huge, black, almond shaped eyes embroidered over his forehead. Aliens' face, Mulder thought and the boy stirred.

"Hey kid," Mulder said when the boy looked up. "They made you ware the hat," he mumbled sleepily. "I'm man enough for it." "Yeah, you make it look real good." "How are you doing?" "Less like dying than this time last week." Mulder grinned, even if the boy couldn't see it behind the mask. "That's good." "Yeah, I feel so too." "Your mom says your results are improving." "Thanks to you." Will smiled faintly trying to sit and took Mulder's offered hand, pulling himself up a little higher on the pillows. "Thank you." "No problem." Mulder said casually. "No, I mean, for the thing," Will said, looking down, worrying his cuticles, then up again stopping himself and meeting Mulder's gaze, "thank you." "Don't," Mulder said, covering the boy's hands with one of his, "don't thank me, just get well, okay?" "I'll do my best." "I'm sure you will." "So," Will cleared his throat, "about you and mom." "Will," Mulder rolled his eyes. "No, c'mon, don't give me that," he laughed, "I just want you to know, that now, with me staying around for a while." "A long while." "Yes, that," he chuckled, "I'm still okay with that, you two, together." "Why do you keep saying that?" "Because I know my mom!" He laughed harder. "You better watch out, she might try to wriggle out of this, using me as an excuse. She's done it before so don't let her." "What? How?""My family comes first, my son needs stability, I need to focus on work." "She said that?" "Okay, I eavesdropped when I was younger, I'm not proud," Mulder laughed, "though, I didn't like those guys much, so yeah, I kinda agree with her, but I like you, so, you know, man to man, take my advice." "What do you wanna do, when you get out of here?" Mulder asked, wiping his eyes. "Major in psychology, obviously." Will grinned and pulled his knees up. "Now, tell me about working for the FBI."

"Kiss me again," she said, turning beneath him, soft and sleep warm, hair a mess and eyes still closed. Leaning in, he framed her lip gently and this time she gave back the kiss, a faint pressure, soft acknowledgement, like hands reaching, touching fingertips. Her lips curled, arms closed around him. "Good morning." "You just made my Monday." "I can make your week," she grinned, hand traveling down his back and under the waistband of his PJ's. "And what will we do tomorrow?" "So much for seduction." "You don't have to seduce me," he chuckled and flipped them over, pulling her on top and making her laugh. "You had me at hello." "Movie quotes?" "Are we doing this or not?"   She caught the last word, pushing it back into his mouth, wiping it out with a bold sweep of her tongue. Fingernails scraped over his scalp waking his whole body up, sensation rippling through nerve endings, all the way to his toes. He grabbed her ass and searched for skin. "We need to talk about these," he mumbled when she let go. "I like being warm," she said, tracing kisses down his neck. When she slipped past his collarbone and he felt her tongue on his nipple, he asked, "Where are you going?" "I'll be right back," she teased and vanished under the sheet. She made his year.

It was almost lunch time and Mulder was walking down the hall to his office, returning greetings from passing students and looking through mail that stacked up over the week. "Professor Mulder," said a cheerful voice, making him pause. He turned and smiled, taking the man's hand. "Dean Harris." "Professor Mulder, this is Mrs. Margaret Scully, one of our most generous donors." "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Scully," Mulder smiled, shaking the woman's hand and when their eyes met, he knew that she knew. An assistant caught up to them and said something to the Dean, under her breath. "Yes, thank you Clair," he said then turned to Mrs. Scully. "I'm so sorry, a small emergency is calling, can I leave you with my colleague for a minute?" "Of course, I don't want to pull you away from your duties, thank you for the tour." "Oh no, Mrs Scully, it is us who's thankful for your contribution," he said, shaking her hand, then nodded to Mulder. "Professor." "Dean Harris," Mulder nodded back then looked at the small, elegant, dark haired woman. Her eyes were soft and kind, set in a small face marked with as many worry lines as laugh lines. "Can we find someplace quiet to talk, mr. Mulder?" "Of course," Mulder said, and showed her to his office.

"The school is very grateful for your donation, Mrs. Scully," Mulder said, taking her coat and hanging it by the door. "As am I for yours," she replied, warm, but straight to the point. “I’m sorry for coming to you like this, but I had to thank you in person, for everything you’ve done for my family.” He guided her to the chair in front of his desk, feeling his ears burn. "You don't have to thank me," he said, taking his own chair to her side. "Be proud of them." "I am, Dana was always the strongest one, strong and stubborn." "But also kind," he finished for her gently. Though there was no reproach in her tone, he sensed old tension between mother and daughter. "Yes, of course." She smiled and took his hands in hers. "I know you've been a friend to her these past few weeks and I'm grateful for that too." "Mrs. Scully, this really isn't necessary." "But it is," she said, looking up, her eyes tearing up, "I wish she met you sooner, I wish you were there for her always. I'm proud of my daughter, the work she'd done, the way she raised William on her own, but what mother wants to see her child alone. When she called me and told me you agreed to be the donor, I felt as if a miracle had happened. As if God had put you in their path, exactly when they needed your help." "Mrs. Scully, please." Tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks and he handed her his handkerchief. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't put this on you." She sighed, wiping her eyes, careful not to smear the light makeup. Another breath and she sounded almost calm. "What I'm trying to say is that, I don't know what your plans are, but if you ever need help, our family will be there for you." "Thank you." Mulder said simply, patting her hands. "Would you a glass of water?" That made her laugh. "Yes please, thank you." "I'll be right back." He took the pitcher he kept in the office, made sure his phone was in his pocket and the minute he was out the door, called Scully. "Hi," she said, her voice sounding a little muffled. "Hey, it's me," he said under his breath, "your mother is here." "My Mom? Why?" "I don't know, I bumped into her and Dean Harris and he said something about donations and she just cried in my office." "I'm so sorry, I'll call her right away." "No, don't, it's okay, I just wanted to give you a heads up," he said, amused by her embarrassment. "Should I expect anyone else?" "I don't think so," Scully sighed, "Missy and Bill left town, and he's the only one I'd be worried about." Mulder laughed, "Okay." "Will says hi," she added. "Hi Will," he said, and suddenly the sound cracked and popped. "Just nod and agree to whatever grandma wants," said Will, laughing, "or you'll never get rid of her." "What?" Mulder chuckled, and the sound cracked again. "Sorry," Scully said, laughing now, "a little hostile takeover took place." "He's better?" "Much better." "That's good," he said and glanced at his watch, "okay, this starts to look conspicuous, I have to get back." "Let me know and I'll send the cavalry." "Thanks, love you." The words rolled off his tongue before he realised, what he'd done and with heart in his throat, he waited for her to speak. "Love you, too," she said, very, very softly.

"Hi mom." "Hello Dana, how is Will." "Better, listen, I heard you went to see Mulder." "I didn't, I went to talk to Dean Harris. Meeting Fox was completely coincidental." "Then why does this coincidence feels so contrived?" "Dana, honey, I did what I felt was right." "Putting him on the spot like that?" "When were you planning to let us meet him?" Scully froze for a second, which Maggie noticed immediately. "I thought so." "Mom, this was probably the craziest week of my life." "I know sweetheart." "And I think it's still too early to celebrate." "Have some faith." Maggie said, completely unconcerned and Scully began to lose her temper. "Will you listen to me?!" "I am listening and I have the same worries as you, but I'm happy that things are finally working out for the both of you and felt like I had to express my gratitude." Scully sat in her office stunned into silence, which her mother took for victory. Will was right, it was useless to resist. "I don't know why you keep him a secret," she said finally, "he's a very nice man."

Having let herself in, Scully found the living room and kitchen empty. "Mulder?" "Downstairs!" His voice came from the direction of doors, that usually stayed closed. She left her coat on the rack and followed the sound down a couple of steep steps. The basement was filled with warmth and light, almost half the size of the room above, with hardwood floors and high set windows. Bookshelves took up three of the walls, while the fourth was turned into one, huge message board, wallpapered with newspaper clippings and blurry photos. There was a couch against the wall and a large, beat up desk in the middle of the room. "So this is your den?" Scully said, rounding the desk and stepping into his open arms. "Office," he said, pulling her into his lap. "And the tour didn't involve this place because?" She teased, leaning for her kiss. "It's only for the inner-most crowd." "In that case, I'm honoured," she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Tired?" "I feel like I could shower and sleep for a week." "And it's only Monday." "That's what worries me." She said and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "I'm sorry about my mom." "Don't be," Mulder chuckled, "it wasn't that bad." "I didn't think she'd go looking for you, at work." "You had other plans?" Mulder asked, swivelling the chair, amused. "I don't know, it's not exactly like introducing a new boyfriend to the family." "Isn't that what I am?" He nudged her lightly. "You know what I mean." "No, I don't think I do." Scully sighed and sat up, taking the warmth with her. "I'm too tired for bantering, I'm going to bed." "Hey, wait," Mulder said, holding on to her hand, "I'm sorry, don't be mad." "I'm not mad, I'm exhausted," she replied, kissing his forehead before getting up. "You coming?" "I have to finish this first." "Okay, you know where to find me." “Scully?” Mulder tugged on her fingers gently, making her turn and look at him before she slipped away. “I love you.” He said, holding her gaze until question on her face turned into a smile. “Love you too,” she said, leaning in and brushing his lips one more time. “Goodnight.” “Night.” Twenty minutes later Mulder climbed in behind her, careful not to jostle the bed, convinced she was already asleep. But when he gently put his arm around her, she leaned into his embrace. “I didn’t plan anything,” she sighed, taking his hand. “There just wasn’t enough time to think.” “I know.” “I wanted you to meet my family, but it doesn't feel right without Will." "Scully, there's no reason for you to worry about this," he breathed, gathering her closer into his arms. "I met your mom, your brother, even your niece, the rest can wait, it's done, try to sleep." "So you don't mind my pushy family?" "Not at all." "Okay." She murmured, feeling tension leaving her body as silence stretched and her eyelids grew heavy. "By the way," Mulder mumbled half asleep, after a long minute, "your mom invited us to dinner on Friday." "I knew it," Scully laughed and accepted the kiss he pressed to her neck. "'Night Scully." He murmured. "'Night Mulder."

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Summary :

The awkward flirting ensues on their second date. Served with a pinch of angsty heart to heart and a non-graphic spicy scene to keep it PG.

Sequel to Aaron is a Cute Name

Sequel to this Not Now, But Someday

Click title to read on ao3. Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

Words : 10k

Do you want to go on a date this weekend?

Chris dropped his phone to his marble floor. Almost dropping his chia bowl to join it.

Then he screamed. High-pitched and throaty like a pterodactyl. No, not because he just dropped his brand new Apple phone, but because Aaron just asked him on a date just two days after their first date. 

Chris is still reeling at the feeling of his cute first initiation of a kiss, and now he’s asking him on a date? How bold! And so eager, this man either interested or literally going after his life. Dare he says that Aaron also likes him too?

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Chris chanted as he bends down to grab his phone and stare at his message.

There’s no way he’s replying now, not when he’s aware that he’s generating big dumb energy. Dumb shit happens when he’s on dumb bitch mode, and he needs to direct this energy to the same associate.

‘I just got a text back from the cute agent he’s asking for a second date this weekend ajsnhacdk’

Perfect. Send.

‘Haily’ glares on the screen, an incoming call.

“BIIIIIIITCH WHAT?” the woman screamed, thankfully, Chris already hangs his phone farther from his ear as he picks it up.

“I know!” Chris replied with the same excitement.

“Wow, Chris. Years I’ve been your partner and you never got any hot action, and now I’m on a honeymoon I’m missing everything!... No, honey, it’s Chris... He just hooked up with a guy!... Yeah I know right?” faintly Chris can hear Jim, Haily’s newlywed husband, congratulate him.

“Wait wait wait whoa, I’m not hooking up with him!” Chris cleared, “We’re just going on dates I guess, and I’m his first guy, so like... I’m taking it slow with him.”

“But he kissed you first right?”

“K-Kinda, he initiates and I gave the final push.”

“Okay? Just be careful with the bicurious alright? We all know and experienced what happened with my 2013 incident.”

Chris shivers, “Yeah, no need to tell me twice.” Chris looks down to his feet, covered with deep blue and black-tipped socks. There are a few drops of milk on his shirt making him groan internally, he’ll need to change before he goes to work.

“What’s wrong, Chrissy?” Haily asked after a long pause.

“I really like him, Hay. I don’t know... I just feel like... you know? Really really like him. Am I losing my marbles or what's going on?”

“You’re just whipped, dude.”

“Oh no, already?”

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Haily points out, “I was there when you gone in and out of love with everyone across the board. This is the first time you’re this excited over a date, and you know I’m happy for you! Like fucking finally!”

“I know.”

“If this one last, you better introduce me to him. He’ll gonna need my stamp of approval before he gets to marry you.”

“Yeah duh, Jim had mine, of course, I need your stamp, it’s only the law.” Chris looks at his wrist. Well shit, he’s not gonna be able to change his shirt.

“Gotta go Hay, love you doll! Have a great honeymoon!”

“I’ll see you Monday baby!”

Chris put his phone on his pocket and bolt with his bowl because he’s not gonna waste expensive organic chia seeds, completely forgetting that he left Aaron on read.

++++++

Chris left him on read for 8 hours now, and Aaron tried to not think about it too much. Keyword: tried to.

It doesn’t help that he’s not on any case for the rest of the week, so he’s been writing reports all day. He caught himself spacing out instead of his papers for a number of times he’s not proud of. It’s not his age to feel this bothered over someone leaving him on read. There must be a logical reason why Chris does so.

Their first date goes well. There’s nothing to worry about. Chris will reply sooner or later. If he’s interested in a second date, they’ll go. If Chris is not interested, then they’ll go on with their lives. Like a hook tugging in, Aaron noticed reeling in that there’s a possibility of disinterest on Chris’ behalf.

In that split moment, he felt his age, job, and life on the scale of consideration.

“You’ve been staring at that page for 10 minutes,” A comment of Reid Spencer delivered by Derek Morgan. The agent stood by the door frame with a worried look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Hotch dismissed.

“Last time you said that you collapsed with your stab wound reopened.”

It was a habit to dismiss his condition, but this matter really is just... petty and nothing.

“It’s about Chris.”

Morgan knits his arched eyebrows, “What about him?” His voice stern and defending.

Though Hotch feels flattered by his intention to protect him –and he’s not the only one to do so– they really shouldn’t be this worried over him. Well, if that’s so, then Hotch shouldn’t be this worried over a read message.

“I just asked him on another date, and he left me on read. Really it’s nothi-”

“Pfft,” Morgan held his laugh with lips pressed tight and curled. Hotch glares at Morgan who’s having a hard time holding back his laugh.

“No need to rub salt on my wound Morgan.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, okay it’s all valid and all, I just don’t expect you to do that too.” Morgan walks in and sits across Hotch’s desk.

“I didn’t tell you to sit.”

“Okay, first of all,” Morgan started, ignoring his boss, “It’s normal to feel restless over these things.”

“I know, Morgan.”

“Especially since he’s your first guy.”

“How do you even know that?”

“It shows, man,” Morgan shrugged, “I’m here if you wanna ask about that stuff, ya know?”

“Was Reid your first too?”

“Nah, I was Reid’s.”

“I see.”

“So I can tell you about Chris’s perspective.”

“That’s... actually could be helpful.” Hotch doesn’t believe he’s saying that too, and how Morgan is offering it. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous with Chris. He didn’t feel like this with Beth. “I don’t want to screw this one up, Morgan,” He found himself saying.

It caught the agent off guard. The weight of Hotch’s words settles down on him, and gone were his playful bearings. Both of them have been a team for years. Morgan, along with a few people that still stay on the team, has been there with him through all his relationships. The beautiful start and how it ends.

How it all always ends.

“Okay, layin’ it a bit too heavy on the first swing there uh, what else does he make you feel?”

Hotch takes in a deep breath, “It just feels so easy. He’s not pushing me, I’m the one that pushes. I’m free-falling, and I’m enjoying it...”

“And it scares you that you feel that way?” Morgan completed. The perk of having profiler friends, they know.

He nods, solemnly, looking down at his clasped hands on top of his last report of the day.

“Wow, all of that after one date?” Morgan flashes his playful smirk.

“I don’t know why either.” Hotch smiles back, just as pleasantly surprised as Morgan does.

“Look man, don’t worry too much. Let yourself be happy and not worry about the what if’s. He seems like a good guy, fun too. If you like him then I trust your judgment of him.”

“Thank you, he is the type of person that balances me. I surprise myself how much I look forward to seeing him again, but there is a possibility that... he might not want to see me again.”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t know that.”

“Just a possibility Derek.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, you move on.”

“Yes, but I want it to work.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows, mouth agape, “Wow, Hotch... I need to meet the guy who made you his whipped.”

Just as Hotch about to ask what ‘whipped’ means, his phone vibrates. Like on cue, Kristianto Hamlyn glares across Hotch’s phone. Hotch raises his phone and gives a look to Morgan, who understands and leaves with a knowing smile.

“Aaron Ho-”

“I’m so sorry!” Chris’s voice almost deafens Hotch’s right ear. “I saw your message today, and I was... I...um... wait.” Chris cleared his throat. “It caught me off guard and I tucked my phone in because I was late for work,” his voice sounded calmer and stoic, like reading a script.

“Really?” Hotch teased, knowing that’s not the full story.

“Yeah, totally, haha,” Hotch can imagine the detective on his desk with a shy expression on his face, looking down at messy paperwork rowed and stacked there, just like what he’s doing now. “So, this weekend huh?”

“Are you available?”

“Totally! I wanna go to your town!”

“Sure, I’ll show you around this time, any preference?”

Chris paused for a few seconds, then said softly, “I don’t really have any, as long as you’re the one showing me around.” Chris cleared his throat again, “Um, and good food.”

“My yelp game is not as strong as you, but I do know my way around.”

“Oh god, that’s so... that’s so out of character of you! I wish I get to see your face saying ‘yelp game’,” Chris laughed heartily, and Hotch wished he’s there to see Chris does so.

+++++

Date day. Chris has so many things to wear but he none to choose from. It’s edging to fall, so he covers his salmon shirt with a maroon leather jacket and compliment the look with dark jeans and boots. He looks like a biker, a bad boy, the type of rebels that he arrested. He rocked the look, as quoted from Haily. He couldn’t even ride a bicycle. A shame that he’ll never tell anyone beside Haily.

His fingers feel kind of... vibrating? Just like when it’s 9 pm and he’s on his 5 th cup of coffee.

Just a date.

It’s just a date.

Like, whatever, right?

Chris would’ve laughed at himself if he’s not frozen over at the sight of Aaron, standing by the entrance of the cultural market in casual wear. The shirt he wears isn’t sinfully tight, but it complements the outline of his body, broad, sturdy, kinda like a brick and tall. Though he knows that they’re roughly the same height, but that and a tall impression left a different feel to it. He lowly hums at the sight of those legs wrapped in slim-fit dark blue trousers, topped with a leather belt and black oxfords. Light olive shirt tucked into the pants doing his body the justice it deserves. For extra damage, Aaron rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

Chris loved Aaron is his clean-cut suits, but now he hated what those suit had deprived him of.

“Hello? I don’t mind the stare but, I’m more than just a pretty face to admire on.” Aaron is looking at him, holding back a smile, and Chris felt embarrassed for staring at him from 10 meters away.

“Someone’s been practicing their lines!” Chris approaches meekly with a nervous laugh. What is he doing? He’s cooler than this, c’mon. He straightened his back, and flash his smooth playboy smile. “You just look really good.” Nice. He pats himself in the back for that one.

“You too,” Aaron says back.

“Seems fun in there,” Chris noted, looking behind Aaron. It’s a parking lot for the stadium looming over this area filled with street vendors, art vendors, food and random knick-knacks. They’re standing a bit further from the entrance but Chris can smell some hearty delicious curry and the beast inside his stomach roared.

“They’re here every weekend, I figured you like things like this.”

“Oooh, did it came with your profile?”

Aaron kind of leans back. Kind of. Everything Aaron does is always done subtlety and elegance like he’s controlling his reaction, so Chris has to look closely.

“It’s a guess,” Aaron shrugged, looking like he had done something wrong.

“Oh, c’mon I want to know what your profile says about me!”

“You sure? Some people might think it’s invading their space.”

“I can see why, but I dunno, you guys are like psychics to me. It’s cool! Like a Buzzfeed quiz telling me my mental state of mind by my choice of shampoo... or something like that.”

Aaron chuckled, oh, Chris is never getting tired of that. “We’ve been called a lot of names, but this is the first time someone compared us to a personality quiz.”

Chris wonders how long will it be until he’s immune to Aaron’s laughs. But now he enjoys it fully with all the butterflies and the blushing.

They walk around the market. First stop, lunch. They eat chicken green curry standing up beside the truck. They look at art vendors varying from paintings, pots and little miniatures. Then buying little snacks as they walk and talk and look around. Once or twice Chris would get distracted at cool pretty things and comment on it. Some vendors would greet Aaron, he said that he frequents coming here in the morning for groceries.

They were walking peacefully, still edging away from personal topics, until... a cat sculpture caught Chris’ eyes.

“Stop.” Chris holds out his hand in front of Aaron and thankfully the agent stops abruptly without spilling his ice cream.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to have that!” Chris says a little louder than average. Even the artist that sits behind the tables full of her works is startled when Chris points at the cat.

After downing the last of his boysenberry milkshake, Chris runs to the vendor and crouches down to look at the cat sculpture closer. It’s made of clay. Shaped like a fat and amazingly smooth upside-down egg with two triangles on the top as ears. An absolute unit. It’s painted as a black cat with neon yellow eyes. White painted on the tips on its ears and the tail’s tip on the back. And the expression, so smug and all-mighty. Even though the cat is below him and only as long as his forearms, the expression painted on the cat’s face is the look of God looking down on humanity’s downfall like Jersey Shore while eating popcorn.

Chris has to have it.

“Good day mam! Is this your work?” Chris says with wide and suspiciously excited eyes. But in the interest of her work, the artist glows in the same excitement.

“Why yes!”

“Then take my money!”

And took it she did.

Near the end of the day, they settle on the park bench eating more snacks as the sky dims with the sun on the way setting.

“You were really excited about the clay cat,” Aaron noted, biting into his second taco.

There’s burrito filling on his cheeks, preventing Chris from speaking. He chews faster to reply, “It looked like my... uh, my foster dad’s cat.”

“Oh, you’re a foster?”

“Yup, I’ve been in and out of foster homes since I was young, I think.”

“You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hm, did you ever get adopted?” Aaron thread lightly.

“Nope. The last place I live in before taken by my foster dad was kind of fucked up. I was seventeen when the police bust the church, and I was taken in by one of the officers. His name’s Matty, Matty Matheson. Man, what a guy he was.” Chris prayed to the darkening light gray-blue sky.

“He’s such a blast. Thought me how to cook, how to be carefree and just enjoy life, you know? Despite everything.” Chris stops there, he’s not ready for the rest, and Aaron blissfully doesn’t press on. Aaron doesn’t express any distinctive emotions, but his eyes are on Chris, focused, yet has no pressure.

“I wasn’t his only rescue.” Chris continued, “He had Rosco when I came. A black cat with white tips,” Chris pats on the cat statue wrapped in a box and brown bag between them.

“Must’ve been a good cat.”

“Oh, no. She was a bitch. She would hiss even when I look at her. Then she had the audacity to zoom onto my path and hissed when I accidentally touched her!” Chris corrected and saw how Aaron paused unsurely. “But I remembered when she acted sweet one day. I was still in my early years of living with Matty and I was crying myself to sleep pretty regularly. Usually, Matty could cheer me up instantly but he was on night shift that day. She then crawled up to my bed and sleep on my foot. Don’t know why she did that but, since then she always sleeps by the foot of the bed. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s entitled though, she would bite me when I accidentally kick her in my sleep.”

“Do you think she knows that you need her?”

“Hm, I don’t know, cats are weird.”

“Wouldn’t have known, I’ve only had dogs.”

“Dang, I’ve wanted a dog once too. Do you have one?” Chris wished Aaron say yes just so he can demand dog pics next.

“I can’t. I’m away a lot. Sometimes I need to be ready in an hour to fly over for a case.” There’s a defeated look in Aaron’s expression, but he still smiles that soft little boat like curve.

“Aw, that sucks.”

“What about you? Do you have a cat?

“Kind of, but I would feel guilty of leaving a cat at home so much. Maybe when I retire.”

“Hm, that’s a nice plan.”

Then they take a breather, pausing comfortably as they look around. The park lights are on even though there’s still light left on the darkening sky. Chris got here at 1 PM, he checked his watch and isn’t really surprised that it’s a little bit past 5 pm. Closing the end of the year, daylight is shorter. Now that he’s thinking of the end of the year...

“Hey, Aaron?”

“Yes?”

“You have plans for Thanksgiving? Going back to your folk’s place?” Chris baited, hopeful that he didn’t step on his toe.

“I don’t have a lot of immediate families and I’m not really close with my extended family. My parents died a long time ago, so I only have a brother now and again, not close. The last time I spent it with my family was when I was still married, so... around 5 years ago.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not a delicate subject. What about you?”

Well, it’s delicate for Chris, but Aaron opened up, it’s only fair that he does the same. “Got no folks left to eat dinner with.” He shrugged, a fact too old for him to be bothered to say, but he can see how Aaron’s expression shift to gloom. “Matty died in the field seven years after he takes me in. Since then I’ve been having thanksgiving with my partner, Haily. But she got married recently, so I bet she’ll have them at her in-laws. There’s always the office Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I have one too,” Aaron said. “If things turn to worse and we found ourselves alone in the holidays, we can always spend it together.”

only on their second date and Chris already got an invitation to spend the holidays together? Like whoa, hold up Lightning McQueen. Of course, Chris wants to, but hopefully, that’s not moving too fast, certainly not for Chris. And since Aaron is the one that suggested it, must’ve been a comfortable pace for him too, still...

“It’s only our second date, you really sure you want to spend your precious holidays with me?” Chris teased, hoping he’s not shooting himself on the dick.

“It’s only fair to spend my precious holidays with someone precious.”

If his heart can audibly scream, he would’ve deafened everyone at a two-block radius. Aaron just teased him back, and the audacity of that smirk!

“I see someone had practiced his lines, enough to earn a blush outta me,” Chris fights back, leaning closer till their shoulder touched.

“I had a great example,” Aaron looks deeply into Chris. He forgot how pretty Aaron’s eyes are, how dare he? “From this little cutie with deep blue eyes and shiny chocolate hair.”

Chris is destroyed by ‘little cutie’, “Aaaah! You win!” Chris leans back, covering his flushed face while Aaron laughed. The laugh that ended Chris once and for all.

How will he survive a relationship with this man?

Wait, will they be an item?

Suddenly, two dates are a date too many.

Chris is filled with the urge of not wanting to go home, but he knows he has to. They spent a half day together and it’s been fun and exciting even though he has to admit, Chris does most of the talking just because he generally talks a lot. Aaron seems to be having fun too. They opened up a little today, that’s a bonus.

Chris counts today’s date as a win.

They walk together to the subway and waits for Chris’s train.

“Have any plan for our third date?” Aaron asked, and Chris is way ahead of him.

“Oh, you bet I do. This time, I’m taking you where I think you’ll like.”

“Really? Did you profile me?” Aaron asked, amused.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, just you wait.”

“I hope it’s nothing reserved. I wouldn’t want to have to cancel you last minute because of a case.”

“... welp, plan b!”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’m kidding!” Chris exclaimed, bumping his shoulder with Aaron’s. He’s been doing that a lot today, he needs to stop. “C’mon, don’t be sorry for doing your job. What you do is awesome!” and dangerous, the kind that reduces your life at every brush of death. He red David Rossi’s book, and man, if that’s what Aaron is really going through for every mission, he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

But hey, what can you do? Aaron gotta do what Hotch gotta do.

“You wouldn’t be saying that after I cancel on our date 5 times in a row over a case. Today we’re just unbelievably lucky.”

“Hey, I think you’re just overestimating that,” Chris scoots closer and bumps his shoulder against Aaron’s, purposely this time. “We’ll see where this goes together.”

Aaron passed him a thankful smile as he returns the gesture, bumping up his heartbeat. “I have a lot of fun today,” he said with dark eyes looking up from the subway’s grimy tiles.

Chris tightened his hold on the cat sculpture on his arms, “Same here.”

A voice-over breaks their zone and a train passes through the tunnel, bringing the wind with it. Chris looks to the side where Aaron squints his eyes and hair blown slightly. Yup, he’s so dead.

“This is me,” Chris cocks his head to the slowed-down train in front of them, “Um, goodnight.”

Aaron steps forward and Chris hits the breakfast. An arm nest softly on Chris’ waist as Aaron leans in. Chris doesn’t give the last push this time, and Aaron lands his lips softly on top of his. In the languid paced movement, everything else seems to blur. Their body awkwardly apart, blocked by the clay cat between them. Chris takes a hand off the statue and put it on the back of Aaron’s neck, grazing the skin at the nape. When he breathes in, he smelt the salsa they ate with and the hint of woody perfume.

Who knows who leans back first, but when they did, the playful air they had is gone. Like realizing that they’ve stepped into a territory with a big red sign on the outside.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Aaron Hotchner,” Chris said in lieu of the state he’s in.

“I hope that’s not true, you promised me a date.” Aaron just chuckled and slid his hands off his back, “Go before you miss the train.”

Chris steps into the train reluctantly, waving to Aaron who still ever so sweetly smiles.

+++++

Aaron was not kidding about canceling their dates 5 times. They’ve planned a lot to meet up and Aaron has been canceling on him five times in a row in addition to Chris canceling on him once because he’s assigned on night watch. Chris wasn’t upset about it, though it’s sad that it’s so hard to meet him, it was at a point where it’s kind of entertaining. ‘Now I get to know what Lois Lane felt,’ he teased one day hoping it would make Aaron sound less sorry. It didn’t work, yet Chris tried anyway. ‘I’ll wait till the end of time, my dear.’ ‘Oh, those sickos, taking you away from me.’ ‘It’s okay, send me his face with my name carved on his face. Stay safe!’ The last one is super cringy and a failed attempt on his take of an Addams Family AU.

In return, they talked a lot on the phone, every time that they can spare. Aaron will call after he finished his case, and Chris would call whenever he misses him. Aaron can always reach him, but Chris can only be so lucky if the end of the call gets through.

It’s not until two months after their second date that they meet again. Now, they’re sitting on the bench right outside the emergency room, shoulder to shoulder. The waiting hall is quiet at 1 am, and the only other people waiting there is an elderly couple at the other end of the hall.

“So, there I was, reduced down to my flower boxers, modeling for a bunch of 70-year-olds that attempted to draw a semi-nude picture of me. When nurse Abigail came, I thought for sure she would put a stop to those cheeky seniors, but she just stood and enjoy the view too! The only light of this is one of the seniors was legit good at drawing and he gave the picture to me.”

Hotch rubbed his face, the corner of his lips peeking from his hand as his chest shakes. If they’re not in a hospital right now, he bet Hotch would’ve laughed louder.

“What other hobbies you hide from me besides intervening on seniors’ home gathering .”

“Excuse me, it was a volunteering gig, and it’s fun.” Chris huffed playfully, “They’re all really nice, it’s like having dozens of doting grandparents, and now I can knit.”

“I’m not surprised.” Aaron finally cheered up.

When Chris got the call, he rushed here even though he was just getting ready for bed. Hotch was in the middle of assisting the police to hunt a serial arsonist when his friend, and Chris’ idol, Rossi is shot on his stomach. It was supposedly a small case, so only Rossi and he was handling it. The rest of his team is on the other end of the US, all the way to Sacramento for another case. Aaron called just to have someone to talk to, or so he said. There was an argument when Chris insisted that it’s okay for him to come over. Yet when he arrived, Aaron greeted him with a silent hug and they talked about anything else.

All they can do now is wait while Rossi is in the ER.

It was concerning yet endearing to get a call from Aaron when he’s still Hotch. His team is like family, and Aaron is alone, waiting for a life and death procedure of what an equivalent as the eccentric sketchy yet suspiciously rich Italian Uncle.

“What made you want to pursue this career, Chris?” Hotch asked out of the blue.

“A detective?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Matty did. I was a teen when Matty takes me in, but he inspires me a great deal. They said the job wears you down, that you’ll see the world and all the ugly behind the crime and feel like nothing will change. Never Matty. He stays positive even though he’s on the job for 30 years. The way he sees the world was beautiful and new to me, and since him, I don’t want to look at the world like how I did ever again. And I was pretty weak when I was a kid, so I want to become stronger and be in a power that can protect people. Because I can see what the police failed to see when I needed them then.”

It’s a good feeling to remember that better part down the memory lane. Whatever that had happened had led him to here. To meet Matty, Haily, and then Aaron.

Fingers laced between his and grips tight, “I’m glad you met him. I hoped I had the chance to meet him.”

Chris clasp his hand back, squeezing just as tight. His cheeks start to tingle, he just hoped it doesn’t show.

“Me too.” Chris looks away when he sees Aaron with his cheeky smile and the lights showing the deep olive hue in his eyes. “I’m hungry, you’ve eaten yet?”

“Not dinner.”

“I’ll get us some protein bars, and a warm coffee?”

“Yes please.”

Chris brought back 4 granola bars from the vending machine and two paper cups of warm watery coffee. Both of them groaned simultaneously at the horrible taste then chuckled. They chatted some more until Hotch starting to look sleepy by the look of his heavy eyelids trying so hard to open.

“You should go home, Chris.”

“No, I’ll accompany you until the doctor’s back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” because Chris is worried. When he came, Hotch looks deathly worried, even now he looked paler than usual, which already look vampire pale in general. “You guys are so solid, you know that?” Chris stated out of the blue. “Even I feel it when you guys were back in DC. You got a dynamic like family on a mission.”

“That’s one way to put...” Hotch yawns, “...to put it.” Then he puts down his empty paper cup on the feet of the benches. Even after coffee, Hotch still lulls his head.

“Want to lay down?” Chris pats his shoulder, feeling a little bolder.

“Thank you,” he said, it got Chris thinking it’s a ‘no thank you’, but then, Hotch scoots a little and lay his head on Chris’s shoulder. He smells like an antiseptic soap, mint, sweat and somehow, gun powder. The weight of his head feels like a cat resting there, and his hair feels like prickly grass.

He’s so glad he wears his cushiony leather jacket today.

“Chris?” Hotch called, and he hums in reply, “Have you ever feel lonely in your own home?”

His breath stops for a split second. Maybe that’s why Hotch is here, he thought. With a feeling of melancholy, he leans his head on top of Aaron’s, hoping he’ll provide more comfort.

“Why do you think I spent my weekends volunteering in a senior home? If I’m lucky, some of them would think I’m their grandson, and I felt like I have a family. Even though the next time I cam there, most of them forgot about me.” Chris sighed a shuddering breath. He never admits that to anyone.

He’s bright, confident, and optimistic, it’s his brand. To gloom over it is not him, and telling it to Hotch who he only knows for two months is even so.

Aaron reaches for his hand and laces them together again, holding tightly as he buries his face even deeper to the crook of Chris’ neck.

Either Hotch is drowsy or he’s messing with him right now. Either way, Chris gladly slide his hands and intertwined his fingers with Hotch’s.

“My ex-wife and son were killed a few years ago.”

Chris choked on his own saliva, “Ack, oh... Oh my God.”

The Hotch has the audacity to chuckle, “I knew you’d react that way.”

“React what way? That’s... that’s awful Aaron, I-” Chrish is cut short by his sudden sob. He leans back and breathes in like he always does when he’s overwhelmed, and tried to calm down. Aaron needs him now.

“It’s a long time ago.”

“Does time even matter for things like that?” Chris cleared his throat and breathes out,  “It doesn’t go away. They’re either pushed away or they don’t age well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trauma.”

Aaron hums, “Are you speaking from experience?”

The question hits like a deadly jab, yet at the same time, Chris expected it. “Yes.”

“Then you’re right. It doesn’t age well. I was so used to calling home to talk to my son, on every different occasion. I was always busy, and my ex-wife got custody so he’s always with her. I always call after he’s on recitals, camp, holidays when I couldn’t see him, or even homework. Picking him up on the weekends are the things I looked forward to, then suddenly, I don’t have that anymore. I’ve been coming back to a quiet home for years, until you.”

“Until me, huh.”

It’s not his story yet it hurts to hear. Hurts to know how much he must’ve hurt. The only thing he could be happy about is how Aaron talks about it calmly like he had made peace with it.

Chris holds on to Hotch’s hand tighter, pressing his face on top of Hotch’s head and hide in his raven black hair.

Soon, Hotch fell asleep on his shoulder while Chris stays up and wait for the doctor to come out of the ER.

+++++

It was almost midnight when Hotch finally finished with his reports and heads home. As he just makes himself comfortable in his car, his private phone rings. Chris.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hot stuff.” Chris doesn’t sound so hot.

“How are you?”

“A-okay, I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Chris.”

A pause. Seconds ticks away. Then a defeated sigh.

“I swear it’s nothing. I’m just... it’s just uh, I just want to talk.”

“What is it?” Aaron leans back on his seat, “Nothing’s too minor, you told me that.”

“Pulling a reverse card like that is not fair,” so he said, yet with an amused tone in his voice.

“I got no card left on my hand.”

Chris sighed, “I get like this sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t belong in my own home, in my own skin, you know?” It’s the first time that Chris sounded vulnerable, troubled. Aaron never hears him like this, yet it’s not surprising or completely foreign.

With a tightened squeeze on his phone, Aaron says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh...” Chris paused. “I’m sorry. It feels terrible.”

“It is.” Aaron mused, then smiled as he popped an idea, "Want me to come over?”

“W-Wh... Wait, um... really?” it’s the highest tone Chris hits so far. “I, Yeah! But you just got back.”

“I got my go-bag, I’m ready to sleepover at your place.”

“Wait... you’re sleeping over?!”

“Unless you don’t want me-”

“I want to! I’ll send you the location but I have to tidy up now okay bye babe.” Then Chris hangs up abruptly.

Aaron mouthed with a smile, “Babe?”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hi babe,” Aaron leers as soon as the door is open. Chris immediately groans with a furious blush on his face.

“It slipped okay?” Chris steps sideways to let Aaron in.

“Didn’t say I’m complaining.”

Chris lives in a fairly good apartment complex. Complete with security measures such as a guard and CCTV. Hotch doesn’t know what to expect when he finally comes into Chris’s living space. The walls have a lot of photos of him with different types of social groups. He recognizes one when Chris is younger in the academy uniform, others with seniors from which he volunteered and some with his work associates. A small bookcase at the end of the room filled with books. The open kitchen is on the left, through the sofa and TV, and fairly decorated with various utensils, which means that Chris cooks at least.

The bedroom located pass the kitchen. There’s a blanket on the sofa, which means that Chris spends more time there. On top of the coffee table in front of it, rest a wine glass, a coffee cup, and the cat sculpture. In front of the cat with a condescending look, sit a framed photo of Chris in his teens and a big framed man in a police uniform, must be Matty.

“So, this is your place after you clean it?” Aaron dropped his bag beside the couch.

“Actually, I gave up halfway.”

“It’s not as bad as you said.” After looking around, he noticed Chris bending down to get his bag. “Where are you taking my bag?”

“To my room.”

Aaron smirk, recognizing his chance to tease Chris, “If you want me in your bed so badly why don’t you say just say so,” Aaron knows it’s not what Chris meant, but he can’t help it, especially how Chris would go red in an instant.

“Aaron you need to stop! You’re getting dangerously way better than me at this.”

“Why thank you,” Aaron leans in to take his bag away and slip a kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping his bag beside Chris’ bed. “Unless you don’t want me here-”

“I do!” Chris blurted out. Aaron knocked back his head and laugh as he drops his butt on the soft mattress that bounces him lightly.

“How are you so calm?” Chris finally whispered. “You must’ve seen how I’m literally gulping down my thirst and I’m holding back...”

“Why would you hold back?”

“Because I... well, I want you, but I know it’s your first and I know I have to get into this with communication before and I go into this with you and there are like a few things you need to know and I have to prepare and I haven’t even choose the words yet and I-”

“Chris,” Aaron called when he doesn’t hear him takes a breath.

“Really just want to touch you all over and have my way with you because here you are like right in front of me looking all delicious and hot and literally the embodiment of my wet dream for the past weeks but I know we need to do it slowly and even I can’t survive if we don’t do it slowly and I just feel like I’m spilling on the edge because I miss you we rarely see each other and to finally see you I just wanna-”

“Chris,” Aaron grabbed Chris’ hand and pull slightly. “I know. I missed you too.”

Chris sucked in a breath, eyes wide at Aaron who sits on his bed as if he belonged there. No, this was not Aaron’s intention when he wants to come over, but the thought is intriguing no?

In all relationships before this one, Aaron always played the role Chris is doing now. The patient one, the waiting one, the understanding one, the leading one, the one that gives his partner the ‘go’. Now he’s on the other side of the role, and so far, he’s enjoying it.

Aaron takes off his suit.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” Chris curled his shoulders in as if to hide, but his eyes wide open.

Aaron chuckled, “You say that as if you don’t want to see me naked.”

“I do!” Chris lands his hand on Aaron’s shoulder so abruptly that he stopped halfway of taking his tie off. “Wait, yeah, I mean... Look,” Chris kneels on the floor, grabbing both of his hands. For once Aaron doesn’t understand why Chris does the things he did.

“I...” Chris trails to a pause. In real-time, Aaron can see how the thousands of Chris’ thoughts drained down into one state of panic, “I’m nervous,” The detective finally says. No childish quirks, just a man, truly afraid.

“You think I’m not?” Aaron cups Chris's distressed face with both his hand on each side. “But I feel safe with you. Just knowing that you worry means a lot to me.”

“I... don’t understand. I’m a mess, I’m afraid that I fuck things up and... and... I just want this to feel good for you too.” Chris just explained what Aaron meant without him realizing it. A person so sweet that it made the back of his throat gulps and his mouth salivate. To his absolute surprise, he felt the smooth alcohol like a burn inside him as he looks at Chris kneeling with hands on his thighs. Those deep blue eyes look so innocent and kind as they look up to him. What a pleasant new-found feeling.

“In my previous relationships, I’m always the one leaned on, not that I mind, just wanted to say that I’ve felt the pressure you’re feeling. When you worry, I know you’ll be careful with me, I feel like I could lean on you. It’s going to be okay.”

Chris blinks, eyebrows knit together, “Of course you can, were you not able to do that before?”

Of course, he does... Wait, does he? He opens his mouth, yet his mind draws a blank.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” Chris coos, slipping his hands on Aaron’s waist and kiss him on the lips.

Aaron kisses him back, pressing his face to his as he closes his eyes. “If you want me, don’t hesitate, just...”

“Slowly?”

“Please.”

The kiss starts chaste, like their first kiss. Hotch doesn’t realize how touch starved he was until now that’s touched with hands that eagerly wants him. He has his experiences with women, but the women that made him feel like this with a kiss, was married to him, and the other dated him briefly. Strong and steady arms loop on his back and hold him tight as the man that owns them kisses him deeper. His own hands grab onto his shoulder while the other raking Chris’ brunette hair with his fingers and pulls him even closer.

The air intake in between kept short and efficient. They paced up their movement with no hurry, with Chris’ hands on his back, he slowly descends him on the mattress. A heavier weight on top of him surprisingly serves comfort at how it grounds him. Thick pair of legs snug between his, grinding teasingly slow. Chris smells of his lemongrass shampoo and his favorite lavender lush soap bar, and Aaron takes in a deep breath of that mixed with his own scent. Soft pulses beat against his hammering heart, pressing generously heavy.

Every subtle movement, even the gentlest made itself known prominently on each other’s senses. The hands cupping Chris’ face trails down to his chest, playing with the contour of his body. Chris’ arms slip away from Hotch’s back and slither down to pull the shirt tucked in his belted hips.

The one carrying the current is Chris, and Aaron is blissfully riding along like a leaf on the mercy of the water stream. It’s a self-surrender that Aaron never felt before. To receive instead of giving. To follow instead of leading. To surrender to another’s arm instead of holding onto them in his.

Whatever playful intention Aaron had –because he was here to cheer Chris up originally- had gone with the lul of this moment.

That is, until a hand slithers under his shirt. Aaron tensed and hold Chris’s hands from moving any more.

“Sorry,” Chris breathed. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound too troubled by Aaron’s sudden stop. “We don’t need to go more than this if you don’t want to.” Whatever expression he wears that made Chris said that he doesn’t like it.

“It’s not that.” Aaron gulps. It’s inevitable anyway, he’ll have to show it sooner or later, Now is a good enough time as any.

Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, wanting to look away from Chris anxious eyes but he doesn’t, for Chris. He knows the scars won’t turn Chris off, but Chris has the tendency to feel strongly to these things despite him trying not to show it on his face, but that’s not what he’s worried about. What worries Aaron was, well, himself. It’s a scar that still feels raw and open.

For every button he undid, a puzzle piece fits in the picture. Then when all the pieces are there, Chris gapes, breathless. Aaron could feel his pained eyes looking at each of the nine stab wounds on his torso.

“Oh... Aaron,” Chris whimpered, that alone makes up for Aaron’s curiosity. Hands travel upon his sides peering in yet never too far, careful not to touch the white lines across his abdomen and chest that were once stab wounds. “I... you don’t have to ever tell me about it... I just... I’m so...”

“I’ll tell you, Chris, maybe not now.”

Chris leans down his temple against Aaron’s collarbone, damp and warm with sweat that was building up. “Does it still hurt you?”

“It’s an old scar, it had healed completely.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Aaron knows. He places his hand at Chris’s trimmed nape, raking his fingers across the prickly short half of his hair and sigh.

“Sometimes.”

Chris hums in reply, placing a kiss on his collarbone as a start, and slowly trails lower. Aaron unclenches his hand and lets Chris go wherever.

“Can I touch them?” Chris asked in a treading whisper. Aaron can feel his question against his skin, sending wavelength of warmth to his chest. No one had asked permission before, but most of them pretend it’s not there, and Aaron was okay with that. Chris is different. Everything he’s done with Chris has all been different. Yet every new territory he stepped in with Chris has been a fulfilling one.

“Yes.”

The kisses trails lower then it landed on the first keloid scar. Then to another one, then another. When Chris reaches for the scar in the abdomen, Aaron gasped slightly at the heightened feeling. Both his fist balled, pulling the sheets slightly.

“If I’m doing something you didn’t want,” Chris said, “Promise that you’ll tell me.”

“I... I promise,” Aaron whispered between the breath.

Chris kisses the last and furthest down scar while he unbuckles Aaron’s belt.

+++++

“His name is Foyet,” Aaron admits to the ceiling. Chris froze on the bathroom’s door frame with freshly brushed teeth wearing nothing but the famous flower boxer.

“Wait, we’re doing this now?” Chris hurries over Aaron’s side and lands his butt on the edge of the bed on his side, bouncing Aaron along.  “You don’t have to tell me if it brings back memories.”

The tight grip on his hand made him look at Chris, really look at him. The fear, concern, and worry that blatantly displayed in his face, and no curiosity whatsoever.

“It doesn’t, not anymore.” Not after years of therapy. Chris doesn’t look convinced. Aaron sits up, with a hand on top of Chris’. “Do you want to know?” he asked, unsure himself.

His eyes don’t look blue at the darkness of the room. They opened the window and the city lights were their only light, yet Aaron can feel his eyes looking at his scars. Looking up, Chris looks determined. “Yes.”

So, Aaron told him everything. Foyet, the man who took his whole world from him. How it started with him being presumed as a victim, the deal, the stabbing. It wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was how Foyet involved his family. His then ex-wife, Haley and his way too young son Jack were sent to protective custody. Even with that, even with the strings Aaron pulled to keep them safer, Foyet got to him and Aaron was too late. Foyet made Haley calls him as he shoots her on the head with Jack present. When Aaron reached the house, all he sees is red and the next thing he knows, he’s beating Foyet flat to the ground. Each strike he lands, even with the bone-breaking crunch, the man laughs until he died in his hands. He doesn’t know when he died, or which punch that did it, which hands. A coworker needed to pull him away from the dead body, then he ran towards his son’s room to find him bleeding out in his bed while hugging his Yoda figurine. Even after he killed him, it felt he didn’t give the man when he deserved. He didn’t even give his son a quick death, but a slow painful one.

It ate him alive for years thinking the way they died. His son must’ve been so afraid as he bleeds out and his consciousness slipping away, the fear Haley must’ve felt when she faced Foyet. Aaron promised that he’ll make it up to her for the rest of his life after everything’s done, and he still does. For a long time, Aaron doesn’t know what else to live for and found it back with them.

He never told anyone this much. The bureau’s psychiatrist had his file so he doesn’t need to say much. His relationship with Beth ended before he could tell her. In each word he says, the scar made itself known. At the end of his tale, his mouth is dry, and his heart on his hand where Chris is holding with trembling hands.

“Oh god, Aaron.” Chris sobs, but just as Aaron predicted, he’s holding back tears behind haunted eyes. “That’s horrible.” Chris held Aaron’s hand tighter.

“It is,” Aaron admitted.

“I’m glad that he died, even more knowing that you killed him, but how do you get away from the bureau with that?”

“Not without a fight and justification. I was a prosecutor, after all, I know my way around.”

“Still,” Chris catches himself after hearing his voice broke, “Ugh, the justice system is so fucked up, and I’m the justice system.”

“We’re but a gear among many.”

“I know you must’ve heard it a lot before, but I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Not a lot of people said they’re sorry. My colleague didn’t say it, they don’t need to, I already know. Not a lot of people know about it since it’s highly classified for my sake. My ex’s family blamed me for what happened, so they’re not sorry for me.”

Chris falls into a solemn silence. His face rids of his usual playfulness or even sorrow. Just an empty expressionless mask as he stares down their clasp hands. It’s an eerie thing to see Chris slips out into this character. It’s foreign, but it’s still undoubtedly Chris, and that’s what terrifies him.

“It doesn’t happen to you anymore,” Chris says monotonously.

“Are you talking about me or yourself?” Aaron baited, and Chris finally looks up from their hands.

“For both of us.” Chris weakly smiled. “It’s just so sad, and I think I just broke there because... well, I can’t see the sunny part of it. There’s a bright side of everything, I know that. I just can’t see it in your case other than that it doesn’t happen to you anymore, and it’s never going to happen to you anymore because he’s gone.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why do you look like that?” Chris asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s still happening to you.”

Aaron didn’t see that question coming, even after knowing Chris’ character, sometimes the serious part of Chris often comes unseen.

“Because I never let myself forget. For the first years, after it happened, I don’t let myself forget by not forgiving myself.” The confession had been a dead weight he carried through the years. He told himself that he deserves the gaining weight he carries, even when he’s telling the bureau’s psychiatrist. Now, it’s different, because someone with teary deep blue eyes is telling him that it doesn’t happen to him anymore.

“Is that the reason why you’re always working late? Because of guilt?”

“I was, but not anymore.”

“But you still do it.”

“A habit.”

Chris hums, his eyes no longer wet in tears, but piercing and searching into him.

“I know how it feels to come home to a quiet house. I’ve lost...” Chris trails away, going quiet. Just a look at Chris’s face and Aaron knew he finally found someone that understands the loss he felt, and he’s not grateful for it. “I’ve lost more than I can handle in a short amount of time. I know how it feels, not wanting to come home, because... well, there’s no one to come home to. The empty rooms are all that I can get, though it’s needed sometimes.”

Aaron gulped. He knows Chris is right, but he never hears it loud and clear, or hear anyone says it to his face.

“We can do something about that!” Chris cheered and Aaron leans back, perplexed by the quick turn. “When it gets too quiet, let call!”

Aaron gapes for a few seconds before finally regaining his voice, “I can’t call you every day.”

“I not talking about everyday, silly. I know we’re too busy for every day, just when you have the feeling that you intentionally don’t want to go home when you should’ve, let’s call.” Chris noted the unsure look on Aaron’s face and leans closer with both his hand perching between Aaron’s waist. “Look, we don’t even need to talk, just going online on WhatsApp voice call. That way I’ll be just around the corner for small talk or even petty question.”

“You’d do that?” Hotch doesn’t know how he looked, but the way Chris smiles at him so full of compassion fills a void that’s been gaping for a long time.

“You’re not asking too much of me, I promise. I want to call too.”

After a smile, Hotch finally nodding in agreement. “Thank you.”

Chris slips his arms around Aaron’s torso and hugged tightly. “By the way, I didn’t say this before, but the scars look really sexy on you, sorry.”

Aaron chuckled, “Don’t be, that’s the first time someone doesn’t pity the scars I have.”

++++

“SSA Hotchner.”

“You’re still at the office?”

“Yes.”

“Aaron,” the voice firmed up.

That’s when Aaron finally tore his eyes away from his reports and looks at the caller ID, seeing Chris’s name.

“Just landed, this paper is last minute.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris doesn’t sound convinced. “Oh, by the way, thank you for the gift.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I was in tears, then conveniently wiping my tears with it.”

Hotch chuckled, “Is it really tears worthy?”

“It deserves a bucket of it, mostly because of laughter, mostly because I imagine you making it. When did you even find the time?”

“I spent a few minutes before bed on it.”

“Awww, okay I’m not mad anymore, but look at the time Aaron Hotchner! I know the watch I gave you still works, it’s time to go home. I’ll read for you again if you needed to.”

Aaron looks down at his wrist. Black leather and titanium steel. Silver needle points at an 11 and a 10. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, call me when you’re home, bye hon.”

“Bye.”

The line disconnected, and Hotch looks up to see Rossi standing there with a smug smile.

“And what would that gift be, that it made a grown man cry?” Rossi steps inside and hands him a folder.

“I knit him a handkerchief with a cat on it, it’s surprisingly easy.”

“You? Knitting?” Rossi said with eyes balked, rising a tone on each word.

“It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

Rossi shook his head and chuckles, “Look at you two! Already acting like a pair of an old married couple. I didn’t think you two will even go that far, I was skeptical, not gonna lie.”

“Me too,” he admitted, “But I really like him.”

There’s a playful glint in Rossi’s eyes, a mischievous intent, “So, what’s your status?”

“What do you mean?”

Rossi gave him a look and Aaron, for the lack of a better word, ‘got caught.’ He never thought of it before. He just assumes that Chris and he are in a relationship, but now that he thinks about it, none of them had established that.

“You’re getting rusty there boy,” Rossi smirks, enjoying Aaron’s demise.

“Well I might be, but it helps that Chris is as rusty at this as I am.”

+++++

“I know the sound of that sigh,” chirped a high pitched voice from the desk in front of him, then followed by a screech from plastic wheels scraping the floor.

Chris pushes himself to the side, away from his messy desk filled with due reports and a computer screen filled with even more words and updated evidence. Wheels from his old chair squeaks and he meets a done expression from a blond with glossy pink lips.

“Trouble in paradise?” She beats him to it.

“Nothing like that Haily, just tryna take care of my...” Chris froze. Haily arched her permanently made eyebrows, watching Chris like he just got a stroke.

Why didn’t he ever think about this before? They never established a relationship. Like who are they? Are they still in the probation period? Because it doesn’t feel that way. Now that it doesn’t feel that way, what are they gonna do now?

“Really Chris? Don’t tell me you haven’t asked him to be your boyfriend yet. I taught you better than that.” Haily’s loud voice is mercifully is on a lower side as she said that.

“I... I don’t know! I was waiting for him, and I don’t want to be the one that pushes!”

“You said you have a heart to heart a couple of weeks ago! Isn’t that the green light?”

“I think so... I mean, it has to be but I can’t be sure.”

Haily knits her eyebrows together so hard it’ almost looked like a unibrow, pursing her lips as she lands her pretty tiny face on her long manicured hands. “Did he do something that makes you second guess?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously, “It’s not that... He’s perfect, Haily. He’s the tall dark and handsome type I love. And his body! Oh my god, that fucking suit had fooled me for months! His body is an absolute unit. Like, dense and packed with full power!” Chris sighed breathlessly as he wipes a sweat on his temple while Haily rolled her eyes. “But inside that hard exterior is this dreamy soft and gooey heart. But... do you remember 2015?”

Haily dropped her frown, pale blue eyes open in surprise, “How far have you gone?”

“To the moon.”

“Chrissy,” Haily awed, pushing with her work leather heel and pushes her office chair to bump with his. “This one won’t crash and burn like the dumpster fire of 2015, I promise.”

Chris rubs his face and lay on his hand, “How would you know?”

“You gotta trust me, honey,” Haily drapes her skinny arms around Chris’ shoulder, “I’ve seen you grow, you’re more mature now and Aaron is different than her. It won’t happen again.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“Shh shhh shhh, I just know okay? Though opinion may change after I see him, maybe.”

Chris just gave a weak smile, he went weak in the knees at how he’s going to bring this conversation up. They’re already comfortable being where they are now, being who they are. If Chris brings it up... what if Aaron taps out?

“Hey! I don’t wanna see those wrinkles,” Haily press her fingers between Chris’ brows. He flinched back, pouting. “What were you texting bout with mister cool and sexy anyway?” Give it to Haily to know who’s texting who without seeing. She said it’s in the typing sound, the hesitating pauses, the excited rapid punches. Chris is still learning, still doesn’t get it.

“I was lecturing him about staying late at the office,” Chris admitted bashfully.

Haily narrowed her eyes at Chris, scoffing, “And where are we at this same hour?”

“Our office...”

“Go home Chris, then call your boo.”

“Okay,” Chris takes his bag and put on his jacket, “How bout you?”

“I lost that bet with Santiago and had some extra reports, but I’m done now,” She takes her purse, “Come now baby, let’s ditch this dump!”

+++++

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re burning the banana.”

“Oh shit!”

Chris yank the pan away and throw it to the counter beside the stove while turning it off. Poor banana... it’s burnt on the sides, sticking to the pan. Poor bacon and eggs, why are they mixed with a banana?

“Why are you searing banana with bacon and eggs,” Aaron chirped, looking down at the monstrosity Chris had created.

“I don’t know,” Chris mused, not daring to look up to look at Aaron after what he’d done to his pan, and other things too of course. “Sorry about burning our dinner.”

“Wanna eat out?”

“Yeah, I mean... we have to,” Chris looked pointedly at the pan, suddenly feeling exhausted. He just came back from work when he jumps into the train to see Aaron, who happens to just land from a case.

He thought the homey environment would make it easier to have ‘the talk’ but it’s not.

“I can hear the gear in your head turning,” Aaron bumps his shoulder against Chris, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of places to go to.” Smooth af Chris. “I’m feeling fast foods.”

Chris turns around to get his jacket, but Aaron steps in, planting firm palms against the counter, trapping him in between. Aaron leans forward and Chris froze.

“What...” Chris blurted, the space between them and the position of him being trapped killed half of his brain cells.

“You hate fast food,” Aaron stated.

Rats! “Can’t a guy have some cravings?” not really... he hated fast food. This smooth youthful skin doesn’t clear itself. How else do you think he looked this young despite his age?

“I know something is bothering you.” Aaron squints his eyes, and Chris’ heart thrum rapidly. He’s being profiled, oh no. “You insisted on coming to my place instead, so whatever you wanted to tell me, if it goes bad, you can easily leave without making me feel bad.”

“You have to guess what I was about to say first,” Chris played along, almost glad that he doesn’t need to say it.

“You wanted to end our relationship.”

Chris gasped so loud he almost choked on his own breath. He grips Aaron’s biceps, “Wha- No! Are you crazy!”

Aaron just chuckled shyly. Chris blinks, perplexed. “I know it’s not that now.”

“I... what, you really think there’s a possibility I would want that? Aaron... maybe you’re not as good as a profiler as you thought.” Chris doesn’t mean that. It’s just that Aaron is legit a dumbass if he ever thinks of Chris ever wanting to let him go.

He’ll never find anyone like Aaron again. Someone who treats him seriously even though he tended to act like a dumb bitch outside of work even at his age and with his profession. Someone that... well, loves him back with the same intensity as him. Someone that doesn’t comment on his weird-ass hobbies and quirks... yet.

“What else was I suppose to think you’re gonna say?” he asked with the softest smile that still makes Chris turn all warm and gooey inside. “You haven’t looked at me in the eyes since you walked in.”

“I was about to ask you to be my boyfriend, Aaron, geez...” Then his breath hitched. The words just slid off his tongue. His grip on Aaron loosens, ready to bolt. But Aaron’s arms still entrapping him between his suit wrapped body and the counter, then his face mellows, not even a tinge of shock.

“Yes,” Aaron says and leans down to kiss him.

“Wait...” Chris says between kisses, “You knew!”

“To be fair, I only knew after hearing your reaction.”

“Well, fudge sticks... There goes the rest of my 5-day plan.”

“Sorry to spoil your unnecessarily long plan. Now, what do you really want to eat?”

“I wanna go to Trader Joe’s so we can make some chicken salad and pasta.”

Aaron smiled at him, though it just looks a bit different than his usual heart eyes. Sickly sweet, soft and fluffy smile. Just something else Chris can’t point out, and he doesn’t know what makes Aaron that excited for his mediocre chicken salad and pasta.

“Let’s go then.” Aaron finally lets go of his arms and wraps them in Chris’s waist instead. His face buries at the crook of his neck.

Chris wraps around his around Aaron’s shoulder. He doesn’t question as they stay there just hugging.

This feels nice. Chris wants to feel like this for as long as he lives. Whoa! That’s some heavy feelings there, maybe it’s what Aaron felt too? Well, he’s going to ask if Aaron wants to spend the rest of his days with him too someday, but not today.

Today’s menu is hugs, food, and Netflix until they sleep on each other.

[write-numinous]

Part two of Spideychelle HIMYM AU

* A week before MJ and Harry’s wedding *

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make it to your bachelor party, man. I’ve got... things to do.” Peter said, his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he packed his clothes into a small duffel bag.

“Oh, cmon, Pete! What’s more important than my party? You’re my best man!” Harry shouted from the other side of the line.

Peter winced. Why couldn’t he just tell him where he was going? A little honesty wouldn’t hurt. It would lessen his guilt too.

... Or so he thought.

“Fine, I’m going to Germany to see Gwen, okay?”

“Seriously? I thought you two ended things a year ago?”

“I know, it’s just—“ Peter hesitated. “Look, man. I gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“Alright, take care.”

The phone call ended and Peter finished packing his bag. He honestly didn’t think seeing Gwen was the best idea, but he needed something from her and she was too stubborn to mail it back. So in sheer desperation, he took a flight to Germany to get what he had been hunting down for the past three years.

MJ’s necklace.

So how did it land on Gwen’s hands in the first place?

You see, Gwen was the first person to find out about Michelle’s love towards Peter. Though it was quite obvious from the start that there was something going on between the two back when they were just college roommates, Peter and Michelle never seemed to address the feelings they had for each other. And MJ had Harry, and Peter had Gwen. They eventually became an inseperable group of friends— along with Ned and Betty who have been high school sweethearts and are now happily married with one baby.

It seemed like MJ and Peter’s feelings slowly faded; they were more invested in their own relationship and Gwen was so sure Peter was madly in love with her.

It was only until Gwen found the necklace that she confirmed that Michelle and Peter’s feelings never actually left. She had never seen someone cry so hard over a silver pendant and for Peter to choose finding a necklace instead of spending the rest of their supposedly romantic trip with Gwen said a lot about his priorities.

It was always MJ.

But to be clear, Gwen didn’t steal the necklace. She found it in their hotel’s bathroom floor near the sink. It must have fallen while MJ was taking a shower, but she insisted that she was still wearing it at the beach.

MJ was so sure it got buried in the sand somewhere while they were sunbathing, and Peter offered to help her find it. So when Gwen came out of the bathroom and saw that MJ wasn’t back yet, she decided to find where Peter and Michelle were. It was almost midnight.

Gwen was holding the necklace in her hand, ready to return it to the rightful owner.

At the beach, Gwen saw Peter and Michelle sitting on the sand, her head on his shoulder while he had his arm draped over her thin frame.

They had spent hours searching for the necklace until they decided it was too dark to find it. They ended up just talking and MJ telling him how she felt so bad for losing something so special.

He kissed her forehead and consoled her, telling her it wasn’t the pendant that was special, it was the memory.

Gwen saw how Peter looked at Michelle that night. It was the way he would never have looked at Gwen. Like she was his shooting star.

and it hurt Gwen to keep watching them. She felt angry and stupid for not realizing it sooner, and yet she couldn’t find the strength in her to ruin their moment. Or to tell Peter that it was over. She loved him too much and she convinced herself that Peter would learn to love her more than he loved MJ.

So Gwen kept the pendant for as long as she could.

—

Three years have passed when Gwen heard the telephone ring. When she answered, she didn’t expect to be hearing Peter’s voice.

“May I speak to Gwen please?”

Her heart sank.

“Peter?”

“Gwen, I just need to ask you something real quick. I’m at the resort at Bora Bora right now and I’m looking for MJ’s necklace. Do you remember if she was wearing it at the beach?”

“Peter, what the hell?”

“Please. I need to find it.” Peter’s voice sounded so desperate and Gwen could have sworn she heard a metal detector beep from the other line.

Oh the lengths he would go through just for MJ.

“You really love her.”

“Gwen, just—“

“I have it.”

“What?”

“I have it. And if you want it, then you’ll have to come get it.” Gwen ended the call.

—

So that was how Peter ended up in a flight to Berlin.

The last time he had been there wasn’t for the Avengers. It was two years after, when Midtown had an exchange program and Peter was one of the students they selected. That was the first time he met Gwen, too.

Now, he was standing by the bridge where Gwen agreed to meet him. It was the same bridge where they had their first kiss.

“Oh don’t get nostalgic on me now.” Gwen said, creeping up behind Peter with a smile on her face.

“Gwen! Hey, uh, you look good.” Peter said, evidently nervous as he wiped his palms into his jeans.

“And you look like a mess.”

They both chuckled.

“Listen, I don’t want to argue with you, I just need—“

“The necklace. I know.”

They were both silent for a moment.

Peter couldn’t dare look up. And Gwen couldn’t help the tears streaming down her face.

“I need to hear you say it, Peter. You know it, I already know it, and I’m sure MJ’s smart enough to feel it.” Gwen was torturing herself at this point, but she needed this for closure. She needed this to get over Peter completely.

“I’m in love with her, okay? If you’re looking for the word that means caring about someone beyond all rationality and wanting them to have everything they want, no matter how much it destroys you, it’s love, and when you love someone, you just, you don’t stop, ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy. Even then. Especially then. You just… you don’t give up! Because if I could give up. if I could just, you know, take the whole world’s advice and move on and find someone else, that wouldn’t be love. That would be—that would be some other disposable thing that is not worth fighting for.”

Peter felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. All those years of keeping it to himself, and convincing himself that it wasn’t there, he finally said it.

“And there you have it.” Gwen took Peter’s hand, dropped the necklace into his palm and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I know she’s getting married soon, so I hope you know what you’re doing, Peter.”

And then Gwen left.

—

* On the day of the actual wedding *

Peter was at his hotel room, fixing his tie and his collar when Harry entered his room.

“Ah, if it isn’t my best man! Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course. How are you feeling?”

“Excited. Nervous. I just love her so much, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Peter had to hide the meaning behind his words.

“Thanks for being there for me, man. I really think she’s the one. I hit the fucking jackpot!” Harry took Peter’s shoulder and shook it excitedly.

“Yeah, I- I’m happy for you two.” Peter smiled.

That’s when Peter realized he shouldn’t have given MJ the necklace. Was it too late to take it back? He had to do something.

He knew he shouldn’t be this selfish. God, he was so stupid!

“Hey, Harry? Do me a favor and take care of MJ alright?”

“Of course. I’ll see you later, man. Good talk.” Harry left and Peter was fighting a battle in his head. He decided he couldn’t risk losing both his best friend and the love of his life. So he was getting that necklace back before MJ could see.

But before Peter could open his door, MJ beat him to it. She barged inside his hotel room, her white dress hugging her shape perfectly. And she was beautiful. God, she was so beautiful.

But she was crying.

“MJ? What are you- why are you crying?”

“I can’t do it, Peter. I can’t marry Harry.”

—

* 10 minutes before the wedding *

Peter explained how he got the necklace back to a sobbing Michelle Jones. He knew there was no way out of this now, but he could still fix this somehow.

“I just know how much the necklace meant to you, but MJ, it’s your wedding day. You should be happy.” Peter lifted her chin and gave her a smile. His cute brown eyes piercing through her heart like a spear.

“So... did I get this completely wrong? You didn’t give me this back to send a message?”

“What do you mean, MJ?”

“You love me, Peter.”

“You’re getting married to my best friend.”

“I’m your fucking best friend, Peter. So I’m gonna ask this one last time: do you love me?”

In another life, he would have said something different. In another life, he would have stepped closer, cup her cheeks, and pull her in for a kiss. But this life?

“Harry loves you. That’s what you should be focusing on.” He said.

“Fuck you, Peter.”

In this life, MJ deserved better.

[thirstykpopstans-blog]

Mistletoe (One-shot)

Christmas Special

You’ve had feelings for Jaehyun for a long time now but your friendship with him had it remained unspoken, like a taboo subject for you two. Everybody has their limits. You decided to tell Jaehyun the three words that you’ve been dreading to say to him. All or nothing for you.

Pairings: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: fluff

a/n: i honestly suck at everything descriptions.

-amy

You tapped your fingers on the sticky tables of a run-down coffee shop while waiting for Jaehyun to reply

7:33 am

Good morning you ethereal being. I kinda need your help. I spent the night in front of a coffee shop and I have no money. Pls be a sweetheart and retrieve me from this shabby place.

7:34 am Jaehyun

I really like waking up to these kind of texts. 

Send me your location. Do I even want to know how you ended up there?

7:34 am

I fell asleep in the bus and this was their last destination. The coffee shop’s name is CaPAPAccino and yes the name is probably why this place is in shambles.

7:36 am Jaehyun

I just looked it up and I think I’ll take about an hour to get there so yeah enjoy being a CaMAMAccino for a while.

Jaehyun’s response made you chuckle. You looked around the shop. The place may be falling apart but their Christmas spirit is not. It was Christmas season after all and it was freezing. You were the only one freezing. You must’ve forgotten your coat on that bus. The staff around you were putting up Christmas decorations and singing holiday songs. It lifted up your spirits a bit so you decided to talk to the staff until Jaehyun comes to pick you up.

An hour passed and you see Jaehyun coming in the shop. He wore a plain white sweater and jeans under his coat and his hair looked like he just ran his fingers through them. He must’ve been in a rush. He greeted everyone that he passed by as he makes his way to you.

“You don’t even have a layer on you, how are you still alive?” he teased and took off his coat to put it on you. Jaehyun’s actions made your heart flutter. It took you back to the first time you realized you liked him more than just a best friend. It was when you two were in a party and you got in a fight with Jaehyun’s date. She got jealous of how close you were to him and suffered a wine-stained dress from her. Jaehyun had no second thoughts of telling off his date as he covered you with his coat and left the party to watch movies in their dorms. You’ve been wanting to confess to him for years but the fear of him not returning your feelings and losing him always stops you from doing so.

As you two were walking along the snowy streets, you’ve passed by a lot of couples who were sharing warmth with one another by holding hands. You looked at Jaehyun who was rubbing his palms together to keep warm. If only you could wrap your hands around his without your heart racing.

“Here, take your coat back if you’re cold. I’m feeling a little warm already”, you said as you started unbuttoning his coat to give it back to him.

“No, no just hold my hand. You’re literally still shivering and it’s only my hands that are cold”, you were taken aback by Jaehyun’s response and stared at him in surprise.

“Why are you staring at me like that? I don’t have sweaty palms anymore!” he laughed and grabbed your hand. It’s strange how his cold hand can still make you feel fuzzy and warm inside. Holding hands with him like this gives you a bit of courage to confess to him.

“Hey, if you’re free, let’s watch Jumanji on Christmas Eve” you told him. If he says yes to this, you decided that you’ll confess to him and if not, you’ll swallow your feelings for him and never let him know about it ever. It’s all or nothing.

“Ahh, finally, a Christmas miracle.” Jaehyun sighed. 

You shot your head up to him confused at his reaction. “What?”

“I mean ever since that time when that thing happened at a party with my date. You never invited me to hang out with you anymore and I basically had to always barge in your apartment. Even though you seem to be fine when I do that. I felt something had changed between us and I’m really guilty about it… so I guess you’re not mad at me anymore?”, he explained as he looked at you with his puppy dog eyes after he asked his question.

You stopped in your tracks and started laughing “Jaehyun, I was never mad at you!” you were quite disappointed because you were expecting him to say that it’s a miracle that you’ll confess to him and he knew about your feelings all along and was fine with it the whole time so you don’t have to go through a nerve-wracking experience. I guess you just can’t have things easily, you thought.

“Then why did you act so distant?”, Jaehyun pouted. God, he’s cute when he does that, I might just confess to him right here right now. You patted his shoulders and started walking. “That’s a story for another day, presumably on Christmas Eve.” you see him smile at your response. You continued to walk with him down the street unaware of the stolen glances from him.

Christmas Eve arrived and you decided to arrive 10 minutes earlier than usual. You’ve been mentally preparing for this since the day you told yourself that it’s now or never. You waited for Jaehyun under a tree just across the street from the mall. You decided to check your phone for a while to pass the time and saw an unread text from your friend.

:6:56 pm y/f/n

Y/n! Are you still planning on confessing to Jaehyun?

7:03 pm

Yes, of course. If I don’t do it tonight, I’ll never tell him about it. Ever. Until I die

7:04 pm yf/n

my woeful child… that might just be the case tonight.

Your friend’s last message suddenly gave you a dreadful feeling. Not a minute later, your phone lit up with your friend’s name on the screen.

“What did you mean by your message to me? you asked trying not to sound too agitated. You heard an audible sigh from your friend on the other line.

“Remember that girl who hated you? I heard her confess to Jaehyun and saw him take off with her. You felt your heart drop to million pieces. Maybe it was for the best but you were left helpless and it frustrated you how much you wanted to cry but your tears won’t spill, you were left empty.

Jaehyun

Jaehyun didn’t want to reject the girl from before in front of many people. He walked her to a quiet place to give his  answer to her confession.

“I can’t return your feelings.”

“Then at least celebrate Christmas with me. Even as a friend.”, he was reminded by the girl of himself and how he decided to keep his feelings to himself the time y/n became distant to him. He settled to only mend what he thought their broken friendship and didn’t push it further.

“I can’t do that too. There’s this someone waiting for me to celebrate Christmas with her in a completely uneventful way and I’d rather spend Christmas like that because it’s with her…” he faltered. revealing a sad expression on his face

“But she doesn’t feel the same, does she?” she asked in a quiet tone. It didn’t matter to Jaehyun if you loved him back or not. He was coming to you.

You suddenly find yourself walking home. Your phone rang again, it was Jaehyun this time. You didn’t want to answer your phone because you know that he’s only going to say that he can’t go with you tonight. This Christmas was a disaster. Why did I even decide to do such a risky thing in this time of year? you cursed to yourself.

Jaehyun rang your phone again but this time you stopped in your tracks. You didn’t know why but you had the urge to look back to where you were standing. 

And there you saw Jaehyun. Bent down with one hand on his knee and one on his phone while trying to gasp for air. His hair was disheveled and his face red from running. Your feet moved on its own and started walking to him. It’s now or never. You were suddenly running to him and caught yourself in his arms.

“Jaehyun, this is the other story I ought to tell you.” you said in a breathy voice feeling your heartbeat go faster.

“I think this is the story I really wanted to hear a long time ago” he smiled as he made you look up at him.

“I love you.” you said as you buried your face in his chest. He put his chin on top of your head and wrapped you around in his coat hiding you from everyone. 

“Did you know that this tree has a mistletoe above us?” you looked up again and he gave you a knowing smile. He closed the distance between your faces little by little until his lips met yours.

[jungnoir]

three’s company;

⇢ summary: the basketball team captain and the bookish loner both have crushes on you. this sounds an awful lot like a movie you’ve seen before. a birthday present for this beautiful woman aging like fine wine, @yongceo.

⇢ relationship: choi seungcheol/reader/jeon wonwoo.

⇢ genre: high school!au, romance, humor.

⇢ words: 9.1k

⇢ warnings: reads like a cliche romantic comedy and that’s exactly what I was going for.

a/n: this wound up as the theme song for this heh

In your defense, there was virtually no way you could have avoided this fate of yours, and just as equally no way you could have known that you’d be caught in a terrifyingly familiar love triangle between your best friend, Jeon Wonwoo, and his best friend and captain of the basketball team, Choi Seungcheol. But I mean, when had life ever given you a head’s up about anything? Let alone what could potentially be a disaster of rom-com proportions?

“I’m in pain for you, I really am,” the sound of Wonwoo’s deep but nevertheless mocking voice catches your dazed attention the minute he makes himself known behind your open locker door, cat like eyes turned up into small smiles of their own as he watched your face fall into a pout, “I’ve known the dude almost as long as I’ve known you, and he’s absolutely terrible at history. You’re basically going to be doing like 90% of the project.”

“What about the other 10%?” You ask, picking out your books for the next period with quiet mourning. Really, anyone would kill to be Choi Seungcheol’s partner in anything, for anything, and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t either. Despite the boy being close childhood friends with your own, your paths had never really crossed enough for you to avoid getting a little starry-eyed at the mention of his name. In fact, had you both had such a relationship, you probably would have fallen much harder.

Your sullen attitude was more so directed at the fact that 1). you had the envious attention of every other admirer of his in school and 2). there was no way in hell you were ever going to focus with him in the midst. You might as well have marched up to your teacher and demanded he stamp a bright red “F” on your forehead to get it over with.

“He’ll present it all and look really handsome and intelligent while doing so.” Wonwoo explains, shaking his head as if he’d suffered a similar situation. He had, in all actuality, and it was still a soft spot for the boy. 

You don’t mean to but your mind instantly wanders to a visual of Seungcheol doing just as Wonwoo had said, and you can’t help but melt a little, “Is that so bad?” You dreamily sigh.

Seconds later, you’re met with a sharp pinch to the side that has you cowering into the metal lockers for safety from your offending best friend, his eyes narrowed into stern slits that make you sober up quick, “Seriously, (Y/N)? You remember how heartbroken I was about the chem project from-” “-ninth grade, you never let me forget. But I really don’t think it’s Seungcheol’s fault that you chickened out so bad before your presentation.”

His eyes narrow more, if it was even possible, and then he lets out a heavy sigh that tells you something else is on its way, and if you knew Wonwoo as well as you thought you did, it was probably going to be a- “Just... don’t get too lovestruck, okay? I know you like Cheol and all, but don’t be afraid to force him to work. He needs a little prodding every now and then.”

Wonwoo was never void of concern for you, and while at times you honestly wished the boy would lighten up, it made you oddly grateful for his caring nature. He had always been the one to check your bruises when you got pushed around on the playground, always the one who would take the blame for you in a heartbeat if it meant you got out of trouble unscathed. He was a little uptight and a little hesitant, but he always meant well, and you knew you could trust him. After all, he was the closest person to you in life.

For a while, where you stood with Wonwoo was certain in your eyes. You two were best friends, inseparable. Even after nearly ten years of friendship, the two of you had always been funnily close. Both of your parents had found it endearing how close you were, how easy it was for you two to melt into each other; words, actions, mannerisms and all. You had always seen him as the one that would be your maid of honor (because god damn it, dudes could be maids of honor too in your book), the one who would send his kids to playdates with your kids, the one that your husband would be terrified of getting on the wrong side of if he wanted your approval. Wonwoo was attached to your hip, and for a while, that was all well and good and platonic.

But with the start of high school came many changes. You were growing, as was he, and your bodies were telling you new, exciting things about everyone around you. But more in particular, they were telling you that Wonwoo was actually a pretty great guy, and despite his squeaky voice at the beginning of high school, he’d matured into a pretty attractive contender in the sea of boys at your school. You hated to admit it, but you had slowly and surely began to see him in a much, much different light. 

But along with your feelings toward Wonwoo came your inevitable attraction toward Seungcheol, his best friend and Mr. Popular from preschool well into senior year. You had seen him in a pretty apathetic light up until he’d sprouted in height and packed on a few muscles from his endless basketball games with his friends, one of which happened to include Wonwoo. On the days Wonwoo could get you to come cheer him on, you’d often find yourself enthralled with the specimen that was Seungcheol. You blamed it on science; you could do that, right? It was just... hormones.

But it continued on for several years until you were pretty damn sure this was an irreversible love.

If Wonwoo could hear your thoughts now, he might’ve choked. “You listening?” He asks, looking a little annoyed at your vacant expression. 

You’re about to reply, mouth already forming some excuse as to why you were so spaced out (”It’s just the upcoming algebra quiz”) when something about the atmosphere changes. Had you been new to the school or maybe not as fine-tuned to your surroundings you’d have missed it, but there was no mistaking why heads were turning all around you.

Speaking of the devil, there he was.

Seungcheol strutted down the hallway, high-fiving his many, many entourages of friends as he made his way through the school. It almost looked cliche how well liked and popular he was, but you didn’t exactly blame him for having the favor of everyone in school. He had the personality worth the love.

Seungcheol was never stuck up or cocky, never the beefy jock with no brain cells or a lack of kindness for those unlike himself. He knew that he could be loud and a little too friendly for the quieter majority, but he was kind and his intentions were always pure. If you had to ever fall for someone the complete opposite of you, Seungcheol was your best decision.

“Good morning to my two favorite nerds.” he jokes as he rounds up to you and Woo, slinging an arm around either of your shoulders and pulling you both in to his blue letterman jacket.

While Wonwoo fights the affection and pushes Seungcheol away chagrined, you found yourself leaning into the warmth of Seungcheol a little more the more you were allowed, and it seemed he didn’t mind. In fact, he pulled you infinitesimally closer when he realized only one of you was keen on accepting his attention, “Very well,” he turns to look down at you with a pleased smirk, “good morning, (Y/N).” 

You try not to lose your breath even as he steals it with no remorse, round brown eyes looking so painfully doe-eyed that his rougher edges almost melt away out of your peripheral view. “...morning, Seungcheol.”

His smirk softens into a smile when you answer back with a much quieter voice, and you feel his arm loosen a bit around your shoulders. It annoys you how a big part of you wishes to pull him back once again. But then again, it also doesn’t.

Wonwoo watches with a small sneer, eyes flicking between the two of you with barely masked distaste, “Cheol, let her go. You’re going to squeeze the living daylights out of her with those arms.”

Seungcheol just raises an eyebrow in question, “You checking me out, Jeon?” You can’t help but laugh when Wonwoo is forced into an embarrassed splutter of words he can barely get out. 

It turns out that he has to release you anyway, the bell ringing as if to tease you for thinking the moment with Seungcheol could last, and the bigger boy sighs before pulling away, though his hand lingers on your shoulder when he remembers something, “When are we meeting up for the project? I’ve already got a few articles I’d like you to look at. I’m not totally good with this academic stuff, but I think it’d come in handy?”

Both you and Wonwoo are surprised at the mention of Seungcheol looking up his own material for the project, though Wonwoo more so. The once worrying weight of having to carry the entire project on your shoulders fell flat off your back in seconds. You knew you could trust Seungcheol to treat you right, “Yes! Absolutely, Cheol. I don’t know when I’m free, but I can text you later?” All Wonwoo can think is when did you start calling him Cheol?

Seungcheol nods, and Wonwoo is almost about to make a joke about how you don’t even have Seungcheol’s number, when the first boy pulls out his phone and asks for your number instead. You rattle off the ten digits like a practiced prayer, and he diligently keeps up with you, tapping speedily away at his phone before pocketing it and waving the two of you a goodbye. You feel your back pocket vibrate and you pull out your phone in a hurry, a flurry of butterflies tickling your stomach when you see what he had sent.

(1) Unread Message(s)

received: 8:32 a.m., october 16th, 2017

+82-1-452-5336: text me soon, my lady :)

“My lady?” Wonwoo reads over your shoulder in disbelief, but even his negative attitude can’t dampen your mood now. You were positively untouchable. “How are you not cringing, right now?”

“Imagine it in his voice, Woo.” 

“I am. It’s making me sick.” 

“You’re probably just jealous. I’ll see you in class, okay?” You tell the peeved boy, his eyes saying he had more to argue about but his mouth remaining stubbornly shut. You wait a second longer just in case, but know you can’t hold up for much longer before your teacher would mark you absent. 

And he has to watch you go, practically floating down the hallway just from a simple text from a guy he’d seen pick out his boogers and eat them way back in middle school on a dare. He has to think it was funny how things had played out, where he had ended up, the best friend in love with the best friend in love with the most popular guy in school (who just so happened to be his other best friend). He had to laugh when you said he was “probably just jealous” because, really, you might’ve meant it in regards to you snatching the attention of Seungcheol, but that really wasn’t the case at all. 

Not by a long shot.

It’s two days later that you’re sitting across a table from Seungcheol in you and Wonwoo’s favorite diner with textbooks open between the both of you, one opened to the right page (yours) and the other not (his). 

“What is it about history you don’t understand?” You ask, hands folded under your chin as you survey his expression. While the boy was trying his damnedest to look understanding with what you were saying the minute you started talking to him about the articles he’d found, you quickly noticed the deterioration of his grasp on the subject. He was trying his best, really, but you could see right through him, unfortunately for him.

“Well, it’s... there’s lots of things that need to be remembered. Important things, sure, but they just... kinda don’t make sense to me. I think it’s better to focus on the future in lieu of the past sometimes, you know? Remembering all these dates and rotting old dudes who “discovered” these different countries and continents gets tiring for me. Is that bad?” He asks, in no way attempting to sound condescending. Even if you severely don’t agree, you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed.

“No,” you say softly, and you can’t help your smile when his expression melts into one of relief, “that’s just how you feel, Seungcheol. But have you ever thought about how differently the world would work if we ignored the past? I mean, even in our own lives, we don’t make better decisions at random. It comes from experiencing the bad things and learning from them. Sure, the surface of learning history seems like studying old dudes and remembering big wars, but there’s more to it. Imagine all the things we could accomplish if we studied how we came to be, and learned how we should continue on.”

Seungcheol stares you in the eye, thoroughly stumped by you. “Wow,” he says after a moment, “you... you kinda got me there... but I still don’t like it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles that Seungcheol finds so incredibly endearing and shrug, “I’ll make it fun for you then.”

Just as you say so, the waitress who had come to take your orders earlier saunters over with a metallic tray, your sweet treats atop it and looking rather tempting. While Seungcheol had ordered a classic chocolate milkshake, you’d gone for a strawberry with whipped cream and a cherry on top. The diner was pretty lovely with aesthetics too because inside each milkshake was a white and red striped straw, bringing you back to the time period the diner tried to emulate. 

Seungcheol’s eyes light up and he thanks the waitress with a giddy smile, hands reaching for his glass and immediately drinking his shake so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get a brain freeze. You, slower, take your time to drink your milkshake and even you can’t help but want to inhale it like your table mate was.

“This is the best thing, Woo’s been holding out on me,” Seungcheol says with a childishly annoyed expression on his face, “Wanna try mine?”

You pull away from your straw to look at the chocolate milkshake and shrug, dragging his glass to the middle of the table and cleaning your straw off the side of your own before inserting it into his milkshake. You look at Seungcheol who looks weirdly excited for some reason, his hands clasped in front of him and settled in his lap. You reach forward toward your straw and start sipping.

A gust of air brushes against your face, and one minute your eyes are closed and you’re focused solely on the milkshake, and then the next... Seungcheol is inches away from your face, doing the same thing.

You practically choke on what ice cream is already in your mouth, the sight of Seungcheol so close driving you to inhale a breath way too fast. His eyelids are shut, enviably long eyelashes resting at the rise of his cheekbones and equally as desired red lips wrapped around his straw. His mouth is settled into a faint smile, as if threatening to widen and break into one of his enchanting grins the longer you’d stare. Yet, all you can do is stare. You can’t pull away from your drink against your better judgment.

After an agonizing few seconds, Seungcheol opens his eyes and pulls away, locking eyes with you and having the audacity to lick his lips while your cheeks warm. “Pretty good, right?”

You blank for a few moments, heart hammering uncomfortably behind your rib cage. You swear you can hear him chuckle when you turn to your history textbook and flip it to the right page, slamming the thing open almost, “Let’s start at section forty-two... p-please.”

You really shouldn’t be that surprised when you find yourself that same night, unable to concentrate on your Chem homework no matter how hard you tried. Every time you’d focus on a formula, your mind would inevitably drift to Seungcheol and that vision of him, seconds away from brushing noses with you, seconds from brushing lips with you...

And neither happened.

You let out a groan that sounds ugly when muffled by your pillow, your hands tossing your homework to the floor to the side of your bed in defeat. It was clear you’d never get a chance to think if you kept this up, but it wasn’t like your mind was exactly letting anything else happen otherwise.

You stare longingly at the wall across from you and wonder quietly to yourself if maybe listening to music would help get your mind off things when you hear something strange from the other side of the room. You stay still, eyes darting everywhere they could reach as your mind tries to process where the sound could possibly be coming from. When you hear it again however, you realize it’s the sound of something hitting glass. The glass of your bedroom window.

You roll over so fast you almost get whiplash, and your heart hammers when you see a dark head of hair peaking through the window of your room until you realize who it is. A quick glance at the time on your phone gives you your answer: you were so lost on Seungcheol you’d forgotten Wonwoo would be stopping by.

You walk over and raise the window with a mock-irritated expression on your face, “I’m starting to wonder why I’m getting used to you showing up at my window every other night.”

Wonwoo grins, pushing himself up off the rope ladder you’d left for him in the midst of your routine to prepare for his nightly visits into your home. He lands on the carpet of your floor with a toothy grin, “You leave the ladder out religiously. Even if I don’t plan to visit you make me want to.”

You had been asked a few times in your life why you hadn’t grown sick of your best friend, someone you saw for the majority of your day everyday. The only times you weren’t hanging out with him was when you were sleeping or in different classes, and even then he found some way to cross your path. Weekends were even worse. You guessed for people whose friends easily grew tiring to be around, it was easy to find hanging out with someone so often as you did Wonwoo exhausting. But you and Wonwoo had never shared the sentiment; in fact, you vehemently denied it.

Wonwoo complemented you well, from every bit of his personality to every bit of his life. He fit you in all the places you didn’t fit him and vice versa, like souls in the shapes of puzzle pieces. Usually, there was never one concrete thing you could say he didn’t complement for you.

Seungcheol had expressed his jealousy at how easily the two of you got along. You had always wondered what Seungcheol and Wonwoo had in common, because at first glance (and even at slightly closer inspection), they were polar opposites. Wasn’t it easier to be friends with someone you were a lot like rather than the other way around?

But Seungcheol fit Wonwoo in a different way. Where Wonwoo was too quiet to stand up for himself in elementary school, Seungcheol would command respect for his friend while you’d rather lead Wonwoo away to avoid conflict. Where Wonwoo would sulk around alone, you’d join him in his solitude yet Seungcheol would bring Wonwoo into his boisterous friend circles. Even if Wonwoo would complain, he appreciated Seungcheol would do such a thing for him. You guessed it was the matter of opposites attracting or the like.

Whatever it was, Wonwoo felt equally linked to both of you.

Said boy stands up and walks toward your bed but stops when he sees your things thrown haphazardly to the ground, “What’s this all about?”

You frown and flop on the bed, “I can’t focus for the life of me.”

“Do you want help? This stuff...” he leans down to look over what you have, “you know I’m good at science! I can help.” “No, no. I can do it, I swear... I just... my mind is everywhere, Woo.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow in worry, trading his hold on your homework for a hold of the sheets on your bed as he pulls himself up to sit facing you, “Something the matter? You can tell me.”

You could, theoretically, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear any more about it once you did.

But Wonwoo was your best friend, shouldn’t he be understanding despite the subject matter?

“It’s... Seungcheol.” You answer finally, mouth turned down into a pout. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change, so you continue, “Today, I was tutoring him in history. Well... we kind of had a moment. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s bad, Woo. This crush is ridiculous.”

You expect Wonwoo to laugh, maybe ask you to define “moment” only to classify yours as not so, and you’re already building up possible defenses that he’d take seriously for all of two seconds. You expect him to be like the doubtful voices in your head. But instead, “Then tell him you like him.”

“Wha.... what? Tell him... I’m sorry, have we met? I can’t just tell him I like him! That’s- that’s completely out of the question-” “Why? Imagine if Seungcheol liked you back, but he never told you. Wouldn’t you want him to? But because he doesn’t, you never find out, and because you never find out, he loses his chance,” Wonwoo’s voice stays serious and his expression just as such, a side of Wonwoo you’d never seen when on the topic of his other best friend, “and you go on in life wondering what might have happened if you had just said something. Don’t do that to yourself, (Y/N). Tell him.”

You stare, wide-eyed, “But... how? Do you know if he likes me back?”

At this his face twitches, if only slightly, “I can’t tell you that.”

A good part of you feels like you’re sitting on the edge of a diving board on a hot summer day, seconds from slipping into the cool water below and finding relief. Then that good part of you is suddenly being yanked off said diving board and being told the pool was closed for the day.

Wonwoo could possibly hold the key to the question you’d been wondering since freshman year, but you’d known Wonwoo long enough to know he respected his friends. He would never spill their secrets, even for the benefit of the other. He just wasn’t that kind of person, and you both admired it because he kept your crush on Seungcheol a secret, and secretly loathed it because he kept Seungcheol’s feelings for you locked up just as tight.

Still, you would hate for your secret to be spilled, probably just as much as Seungcheol would. It was only fair, after all.

Wonwoo watches you go through the varying stages of disappointment, frustration, and acceptance in what he hopes appears vague and detached. Internally however, his insides feel like they’re a mess. Here he was, giving the girl he loved advice on how to tell the boy she loved that she loved him. He was helping his best friend fall in love with his best friend, and he was the only one privy to the fact that he had feelings too, that he applied to the situation in his own way.

He couldn’t hate Seungcheol for coming to him five months ago, cheeks warm and dusted a soft pink after he’d finished a basketball game and all he could talk about was how he’d seen you in the crowd at the game next to Wonwoo, cheering the loudest in comparison the quieter boy. He couldn’t hate Seungcheol for being human and liking someone, even if that someone was you, and even if he liked you first.

“That makes sense,” it really does, but you hate that it does even as you say it, “I won’t ask you about it again.”

Wonwoo nods, the mood having effectively dropped. He almost wishes he never came over, and had he not taken the time to sneak up into your second story window, he just might have. When he had landed in your room, he had multiple things he wanted to say to you, and now all of them sounded stupid and little in comparison to your inner turbulence.

“But I will ask this. You would have never told me to confess any other day. What made today any different?” You question.

Wonwoo bites his lip hard, threatening to draw a flow of blood to the surface if his canines were just a little sharper. Logically, it’s very simple why he told you this. You yourself had said that you and Seungcheol had had a moment, and said moment did not at all seem one sided. If there was a chance there was something more there... then what was holding you back from embracing that full force?

Or maybe, what he told you was what he had been trying to tell himself. “Felt a little philosophical today,” he smiles painfully, “and I want you to be happy.”

You can’t help the small grateful smile on your face that blooms at the sight of his, even if it doesn’t look anywhere near his usual, authentic one. “I love you, Woo. Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

Friend. Why, oh why does that word make the two of you feel so off all of a sudden?

The following Friday is a big day for you and Seungcheol. First, you two give an exceptional presentation on your project with you smiling proudly beside Seungcheol as he explains your subject to the class with a charm you doubted could be recreated by anyone else. Your teacher even applauds the two of you when you’re done, and though Seungcheol is insistent to blame it on the fact that that particular teacher just really likes him, you assure him he’d done an excellent job regardless.

That had only spurred the grinning boy to drag you into his arms and give you a bear hug that you were sure you’d never forget; his arms felt secure, leaving you with a flustered confession choking you and leaving you unable to even say goodbye when Seungcheol informed you he had practice for the big game that night. He had left the invitation open, leaving it up to you whether you’d decide to make it or not. You had promptly texted Wonwoo to meet you in the courtyard, hoping he’d give you a little more encouragement when the time came for you to tell Seungcheol how you felt. Tonight felt like a particularly good night, and you were still buzzing from the way Seungcheol has hugged you goodbye earlier that day.

Only, Wonwoo didn’t show.

He hadn’t even opened your text, the grey font under your message still reading “Delivered”. You knew that Wonwoo didn’t have class to get to at that time, which only made it weirder to you when you didn’t run into him at any other point in the day. Even the class you shared was void of your best friend, and it wasn’t like he was texting you back to let you know what was up.

By the end of the day, you had enough worries to force you into finding Seungcheol, the only other person you could guess knew where Wonwoo might be. If he was avoiding you, that didn’t necessarily mean he was avoiding Seungcheol.

You find the latter in the gym unsurprisingly, somewhere he’d often disappear to when his classes were over for the day and the team had to get ready for a game. There’s only a few of them there however, and Seungcheol is the only one really playing. “Seungcheol?” You call, your voice a little too small to reach him as he continues to play.

Pushing yourself toward the court, you call his name, but yet again he doesn’t hear. You’re seriously considering putting yourself between him and the basket to get his attention when one of his resting teammates, Soonyoung, speaks up from behind the spout of his water bottle, “Cheol! Your girlfriend is calling you.”

Your cheeks instantly redden when that gets Seungcheol’s attention, the boy turning at lightning speed with his ball bouncing away from him, a forgotten dribble as it then begins to roll into stillness. You expect Seungcheol’s next move to be correcting his presumptuous teammate, but instead, Seungcheol just whispers your name and starts making his way over.

You can hear a terribly disguised whisper by another teammate, Mingyu, tone reprimanding toward Soonyoung, “Dude, they’re not dating. She’s practically dating Wonwoo.”

Now you’re ready to correct them both, but Seungcheol has reached you by then, already covered in a light sheen of sweat, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You feel kind of bad that Seungcheol looks so happy you’ve come to his practice where the only person you knew personally was him, only to ask him about someone else, but you remember how worried you are and that bad feeling lessens some, “I-It’s about Woo. I haven’t seen him all day and he won’t answer my calls or texts. I don’t know if I made him mad or something, but everything was fine up until yesterday.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow some, “Up until yesterday, huh? He hasn’t texted me back since Wednesday. I assumed he was just in one of his moods and didn’t feel like talking... but if he’s not talking to you, I’m a little worried.”

So he wasn’t talking to either of you?

You can’t imagine what either you or Seungcheol could have done to Wonwoo that would make him do such a thing, and you can’t lie: it hurts that you can’t talk to your best friend.

“Gyu, has Wonwoo talked to you lately?” Seungcheol calls to Mingyu, the boy’s eyes widening a bit at the sudden attention.

You’d known Mingyu because of Wonwoo. Mingyu was just as lively and friendly as Seungcheol, which baffled you when comparing him to Wonwoo, but the two of them had been friends since freshman year when they’d both ended up as reluctant friends (on Wonwoo’s part, anyway) at the same summer camp only to find each other two weeks later on the first day of high school. You remembered how shocked Wonwoo had been to find Mingyu there when he’d “just gotten rid of him”, but you knew Wonwoo cared a lot for Mingyu in a way he never quite vocalized. If Seungcheol and Wonwoo weren’t together, he was with Mingyu.

“Uh... yeah, actually. I think he’s just in a mood. Needs some time to himself.” Mingyu explains, though his answer feels extremely lackluster to you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol frowns, “Is that it?”

The younger visibly stiffens and the action only raises suspicions, his lip caught between his teeth as if he was fabricating a lie on his tongue while the silence dragged on. You were about to reprimand him in case he was doing so, until he spit out, “Positive.”

It still felt entirely too short of an answer for the look on Mingyu’s face, and if you could, you’d hold Mingyu hostage until he gave up the real answer, but you knew Mingyu was about as loyal to Wonwoo as he was to his word. And that was very loyal.

Seungcheol sees your dejected expression and as if a switch flips on in his head, he knows what you need. He reaches out a large hand and pulls you in by the shoulder until you’re hitting his chest in a sideways hug, the sudden affection making you blush, “I’m sure he just wants to be alone, (Y/N). This isn’t the first time he’s ignored me for a few days with no reason.” “But it’s the first time for me.” You pout in response.

Seungcheol, apparently not liking the sad look on your face, gently raises his thumb to the side of your mouth and pushes upward, unconsciously making you laugh and swat his hand away. In turn, he smiles and removes his fingers, teasingly hovering over your hair, “It’s hormones! I’m sure he’ll come to his senses by tonight and realize he’s being a butt to his best friends, specifically you. And then I’ll guard the locker room when you inevitably kick his ass for making you worried.”

You scrunch up your nose in reply, to which he can’t help but melt a little at seeing. He’d like to kiss that cute nose of yours... if he could.

Instead, he peels away from you and rubs your shoulder comfortingly, “Tell him he’ll have the wrath of Choi Seungcheol upon his head if he continues to make you sad. I’m sure he’ll be here tonight, he never misses a game.”

This shifts your focus altogether, and you quickly perk up as he begins to back toward the court again, “Oh! Speaking of, I’ll be here tonight.”

Seungcheol’s smile only widens, “Good. Make sure you stay after. I have something to tell you when I win.”

And then he turns around and jumps back into playing as if he had never left, smile falling and revealing his well known poker face. You had always admired Seungcheol’s spirit and will to turn on and off his focus when he needed to; he was truly amazing in every way. As if it couldn’t get any worse, your crush grew impossibly deeper for the last few seconds you spent watching him run around the court.

Finally forcing yourself to walk away, your mind is steadily battling on what to think about: what Seungcheol possibly had to say to you tonight, and just where Wonwoo had run off to.

Unsurprisingly, the next stream of messages directed at Wonwoo go unread and unanswered, and by the time you need to leave for the game, you’ve shut off your phone and turned off your ringer. If Wonwoo was going to avoid you and Seungcheol for no good reason, then he could do so unbothered. As far as you were concerned, friends didn’t do that to each other.

Yet, despite how upset you were at the cold shoulder he was giving you, a more prevalent part of you just wanted to know he was alright. Even if you did want to punch him in the shoulder, you couldn’t ignore your instinctual worry for your best friend.

Seungcheol’s words rung in your head even as you arrived at the gym, despite the sound of students roaring from inside making it hard to focus on them. You hoped Seungcheol was right and that Wonwoo just needed time to himself. Sometimes people needed breaks; it was normal. It hurt you, but it was normal.

It seems your time at the game won’t be as cool and collected as you had hoped it would be, because once you’ve settled into the stands, your attention is caught by none other than Kim Mingyu not in his uniform. The boy limps toward the stands with a sullen look on his face, one jean-clad leg’s bottom half encased in hard plastic while Mingyu uses the help of crutches to get into a seat a few spots away from you. 

“Gyu?” You call, making him swivel around in surprise at the sound of your voice. When he sees you, his eyes immediately dart to all sides around you, seemingly searching for something or... someone. 

When he looks back at you, his smile is awfully strained, “Ah, hey! You came!”

“What happened to you?” You ignore his statement and focus your gaze on his wounded leg, “You were perfectly fine four hours ago.”

Mingyu blushes, “Just a minor injury I got during practice. No biggie. A few broken toes is all.”

“Broken?” The boy winces a little at your shocked voice, “how did you... Mingyu?” “I dropped... a weight on my foot... I wanted to get a little exercising in before the game and... anyway, the boys will be great without me!” 

You’re not really concerned about how well the team would play without Mingyu, seeing as Seungcheol usually was the reason they managed to win so many games in the first place, but you still feel bad for the injured, clumsy boy. He really would give his future partner the most grief.

Recalling his odd search of your surrounding area earlier, you lean in around the students between you two who couldn’t care less, “Were you expecting Woo to be here with me?”

Mingyu’s eyes bug a bit, “No!” A terrible actor he was, really. 

You sigh, the exhaustion of worrying over Woo starting to take its toll on you. You couldn’t even properly enjoy the game with Woo on your mind, no matter how badly Seungcheol kept stealing glances and shooting smiles at you every now and then. “I know you know what’s wrong with him, Mingyu. Can’t you just tell me where he is at least? Or if it’s something serious?”

Poor Mingyu looks absolutely torn, a firm bite into his bottom lip giving away that whatever truth he was aware of was aching to be shared. But his hesitation tells you this much: Wonwoo had asked a lot out of him to not tell, whatever it was that he wasn’t supposed to tell.

“I... I think he’s better suited to tell you that himself.” He confesses, and turns away from you to avoid having to say more. It’s just your luck that the crowd gets rowdy then, another point to the home team thanks to the rookie Lee Chan as you hear his name being cheered amongst the chaos. 

You sigh and look down at your lap, even more unsettled than you had been when you had arrived here. No longer were Seungcheol’s assuring words loud and clear in your head. All you could think and feel was Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo...

You turn your head to the side, and your lungs stutter on air; he stands out like a sore thumb, dressed in all black from head to toe and off to the side near the exit. Wonwoo is looking dead at you too, those familiar eyes downturned in a quiet apology. He doesn’t even have to beckon you forward before you’re slipping past others to get down and off the bleachers. Your determined walk toward Wonwoo becomes an irritated strut by the time he’s within arm’s length, and it takes all you’ve got in you not to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into him. 

Before you can even think to, he’s grabbing you by the arms and pulling you further away from the madness until you’re nearing the doors to leave. Before he can pull you out of the gym though, you force him to stop with a stern glare, “No, whatever you have to say, say it here. I promised to be here for Seungcheol.” You wouldn’t tell him that while yes, that was true, he also hadn’t left your mind once the whole day. 

Wonwoo frowns, “I’m... look, you have every right to be upset-” you nod to confirm and he bites his lip, “-but I had to... it was for a reason.” 

“Apparently one only Mingyu was privy to?” You huff, folding your arms across your chest. At the mention of Mingyu, Wonwoo winces a bit.

You can hear the game still going in the background, and while Wonwoo tries to find his words, you turn around to catch sight of Seungcheol in the middle of the heat of the game. He’s drenched in sweat and focused on the task at hand, completely oblivious to the situation happening only fifty feet away from where he was currently standing. You hoped to god he wouldn’t notice, that he’d stay focused on the game and not get distracted. 

“(Y/N),” Wonwoo calls your name and you turn back to him reluctantly, his eyes pleading for your attention, “I’m... I’m so sorry for disappearing the way I did. It came out of the blue but I have good reason... at least I believe it was a good enough reason.” 

You scoff, “You couldn’t shoot me or Seungcheol a quick text to explain? But you had time to talk to Mingyu about whatever was going on? You do know what that makes your ‘good reason’ sound like, right? Clearly, you have something to say to me and Seungcheol.” “I do.” “Well, spit it out. What could we have possibly done to have warranted getting ignored like this, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo looks exasperated with himself and you can’t help but feel the same, your patience wearing thin the longer he said nothing to you. Again, your attention was drawn back to the game, the update being that Seungcheol had stolen the ball, and the game was very close to being won soon. If all the times you’d seen these games was enough to go off on, Seungcheol would be making the winning basket with that shot he was readying across the court.

And, yet again, Wonwoo calls your attention back to him, “It’s not easy to say, can we go outside where it’s quieter?”

You glance from him back to the court, the ball getting passed around between the home team. The time on the clock seems to be running out, and Seungcheol is more engrossed than ever. “Wonwoo, whatever you have to say, just get it out now.” You find it increasingly harder to stay focused when you know the game is coming to an end soon, only a little while until Seungcheol would inevitably meet you after the game to tell you what he had been fixing to say since earlier. Your mind was being pulled in all different directions to say the least.

Wonwoo, though having the gall to look agitated with your easily swayed thought, begins to speak at the speed of light while you desperately try to keep up, “Okay, look, this isn’t easy for me to say and is even harder to say when you don’t seem to be fully present in this conversation, but believe me as your best friend when I say that me avoiding you and Seungcheol was a much better choice than what I was originally gonna shoot for,” you turn to stare at him in confusion, “and I could only tell Mingyu because he was there and he was listening. I would never pick him over you or Cheol unless I had to.”

The crowd is growing exponentially louder, and a quick look at the court tells you that Seungcheol is making his way to the hoop with his ball in hand; he’s going to win. “Wonwoo, speak up, it’s hard to hear...” 

You move closer the louder the gym gets, and in turn he leans his head down to your ear, lips brushing the shell and making you shiver in spite of yourself, “This really isn’t how I pictured telling you this, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The reason why I avoided you and Seungcheol is because I-” 

The crowd grows so loud all at once, near deafening in fact and you miss what Wonwoo says as Seungcheol scores the winning shot, taking the gold for your school once again. He flies around the court with excitement, team members giving him big, joyous hugs and throwing him this way and that in pride. Seungcheol is on top of the world, as he usually is when the team wins a game, only this time he’s looking for something in the crowd. He keeps searching and searching, eyes raking the bleachers even as people come up to congratulate him. You’re completely lost on who he could possibly be looking for... until his eyes land on you. 

With a voice loud and strong for everyone in the gym to hear, Seungcheol throws his arms wide about himself with a grin that could tear his face in two and yells, “(Y/N)! I like you!”

“-like you a lot.” Wonwoo’s words are suddenly not lost to you, rushing to the forefront of your mind the minute you hear Seungcheol’s identical expression. If the crowd wasn’t loud enough before, they are now, and all eyes are on you.

Your heart jumps into your mouth just as you turn tail and throw yourself through the exit, sprinting down the hallway in a desperate need to breathe.

“Why the hesitation?”

You look away from the locker room doors, the place completely void of players from earlier save for one. The man of the night stands behind those very doors with Wonwoo, and you’d think that that was obvious enough to the gently smiling boy who had led you here in the first place.

Jeonghan, much like you and Wonwoo, only came to the basketball games because he was friends with the rest of the team. While you knew him much less than you knew Mingyu, he had always been kind to you when you spoke to each other on those rare occasions. He had also been the first one to find you when you had run out. After calming you down and having a small heart-to-heart, he had convinced you to face the music. In your case, the music was two clashing songs vying for your appreciation, and you could not find it in you to choose.

Instead of answering, you give Jeonghan a knowing look that has him smiling wryly, “Don’t glare at me, it’s not my fault you’re the most popular girl here tonight.”

You groan, having been inclined to try and forget that Seungcheol’s confession (and your assumed rejection of it) was seen by a good majority of the school that night. Monday would be hell, let alone tonight.

Jeonghan rests a comforting hand on your upper back and rubs the juncture between your shoulder blades to calm you, “Hey, take a breath. Remember, you know these two. They care about you. This is nothing a little talking can’t fix.” 

You desperately want to protest, but Jeonghan’s voice is oddly calming you despite it. He’s making you feel a little less anxious, a little less like you’re about to run out of air. 

He waits until you’ve given him the okay, and then he pushes one door open, popping his head inside and muttering something you don’t catch. Then, he pulls back and motions for you to enter. You do so, slowly.

When you enter, most of the lights are off in the locker room save for a select few, just enough to illuminate the bench where Seungcheol and Wonwoo sit next to each other. Seungcheol is still in his jersey and shorts with a towel thrown around his neck, hiding his face as his head hangs. In contrast, Wonwoo is sitting upright, looking you head on the minute you enter the locker room. The two of them look pretty worse for wear all the same.

“I asked the janitor to give you twenty more minutes in here. After that, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to talk this out, so make it count, okay?” Jeonghan says, and you and Wonwoo are the only two who nod. With a quick reassuring look thrown your way, Jeonghan nods at you and disappears from the room altogether, leaving you alone in peace. 

To your surprise, Seungcheol is the first to speak, “I’m so sorry.”

You look to him with furrowed brows, but Wonwoo looks like he’s already heard it all before you even got here, “What?”

He raises his head some, his sweat drenched hair hanging in his face and making him look like a wet puppy... as if your heartstrings needed to be tugged any more tonight. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you... I should have listened when Jeonghan told me you wouldn’t like such a grand gesture. I should have... I should have taken your feelings into consideration instead of putting you on the spot like that. I’m sorry.”

“Cheol...” you whisper, and he hangs his head once more when he sees your sad look and mistakes it for pity.

Wonwoo stays completely silent, pretending that Seungcheol wasn’t even there to begin with. You turn your attention on him instead, frowning when he looks you in the eyes with something akin to annoyance, “What about you?” You say, voice a lot less soft. He winces slightly.

“What about me?” He actually sounds upset himself, and under any other circumstances, you might have understood, but if anyone deserved to feel the worst out of the three of you, it was you.

“You think telling me you like me is enough to make up for disappearing like you did?” If he had the guts to get snippy with you, by all means, you’d give him something to be snippy about. “At least Seungcheol sounds remorseful, and he didn’t even do anything wrong.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to protest, “I told you that I ignored the both of you because I couldn’t-” “Because what? I could understand ignoring me, but Cheol? What, did you know he was planning to confess tonight and decided you’d try to beat him to it? Seriously Wonwoo, this is messed up.”

When he says nothing, your temper flares tenfold, “You did know.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t... I never planned to tell you. Tonight or ever. At best, I was hoping my feelings would just disappear with time and you and Seungcheol could be happy with each other, just like that. But after thinking about it, and yes this was during the time I wasn’t talking to either of you... I realized the advice I gave you was pretty good advice.” You’re reminded of the night after you and Cheol’s first study date, the night he’d told you to tell Seungcheol how you felt because otherwise you’d go on in life wondering what might have happened if you had just said something.

He’d liked you even that night, and he had still tried to convince you to pursue who you wanted: someone else. 

“So... so you deciding to tell me tonight was completely impulsive? You hadn’t planned this at all?” You ask, and Wonwoo nods his head in shame.

Seungcheol raises his head for the first time since you’d started talking to Wonwoo, his expression utterly defeated despite the major victory he’d brought the school that night. You felt terrible watching him have to feel that way, having to watch both of them feel so down on what was supposed to be a happy night two days ago... at least for you. “I’m sorry to you too, Wonwoo. I should have known you had feelings for (Y/N) too... what kind of best friend am I to not notice?”

“If it makes you feel better,” you start with a cautious smile, “I’m his best friend too and even I didn’t notice.”

Just like that, the three of you burst into laughter as if moments before the air wasn’t thick with tension. Suddenly, it’s just you and Seungcheol and Wonwoo and nothing more. It felt strange without that, and you’d trade anything to always feel this.

To think it ended up like this. You would have never thought something like this could happen even in your wildest dreams yet here you were, torn between your best friend and your longtime crush. This felt an awful lot like a movie you’d seen before.

“Well, you know how we feel... what about you? Do you like me?” Seungcheol’s eyes are bigger than usual, shining with that sweet comfort you’d always found so fond about the boy. 

You take a deep breath, recalling Jeonghan’s comforting words from earlier, “Yes... I do like you, Seungcheol.” You watch as his face lights up and it only hurts you more when you look to Wonwoo who was already avoiding looking your way, twiddling nervous thumbs in his lap in lieu of being occupied with something else, “But I think I also like Wonwoo.”

Now both sets of eyes are on you, curious and unsure but beaming with hope that maybe you could choose one of them. Only, this was as far as you’d gotten, and you really didn’t know if you could choose. 

“So, what does this mean? Do you pick me or Seungcheol?” Wonwoo asks in a tentative tone, no longer able to hide the shake in his hands. 

“I... I don’t know. I like both of you, and I wouldn’t mind being with either of you, but I can’t choose. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The room falls back into silence, the only sounds to fill the void being the incessant buzz of the fluorescent lights above you and the sound of sneakers skidding in the hallway, no doubt belonging to that of a pacing Jeonghan. His steps are suddenly so loud, even a little louder than the running water in the back of the locker room... wait.

“Is someone else in here?” You whisper to Seungcheol, who shakes his head almost immediately.

“Jeonghan said everyone left already.”

Like he’d always been standing mere feet away, you see the silhouette of none other than Chan coming around the wall of lockers, hair damp from the supposed shower he’d just finished. There’s an earphone hanging out of one ear and a bottle of water raised to his lips as he enters your area, the younger boy looking far too nonchalant for your liking. 

He looks between you, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo, eyebrow raised, “I know you guys didn’t ask, but why don’t you all just date each other and get it over with? Then you wouldn’t have to choose. It’s a win-win-win.”

The three of you are so stunned into silence that Chan decides it’s time for him to head out, and in the awkwardly loud silence, he gathers his things from his locker and into his duffle bag, shooting you all one last look before making his way into the hallway, much to Jeonghan’s muffled surprise.

You all stare disbelievingly in Chan’s wake, the door to the locker room swinging shut with a resounding click as the room resumes quietude.

And, yet again to your surprise, Seungcheol is the first to speak once more, “Well, I mean... I’m cool with it if you guys are.”

[freedom-shamrock]

A Little Secret - Chapter 5

Also on AO3

Chp 1   Chp 2   Chp 3   Chp 4   Chp 5   Chp 6   Chp 7   Chp 8   Chp 9 Chp 10   Chp 11

Amazing art created by @soundofez​  pg 1  pg 2  pg 3

When Making a Whole Cheese

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien called as his petite friend entered the classroom well before the bell.  "I've got hot jasmine tea for you."  They both had literature final period, and had partnered up early in the year.  He'd had a mid-afternoon shoot, and managed to swing by the coffee shop before returning to school.  

"Oh thank you, thank you," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the hot cardboard cup with a sigh.  "Oh god this is perfect."

She'd been a lot of fun to work with, but she'd seemed so sleepy the last couple of weeks, and it worried him.  He wasn't quite sure if his concern was independent of, or partially fuelled by his similar worry for Ladybug.  "I've got something else to warm you up, too," he said with a grin.  Last year, Alya told him that she suspected Mari had seasonal affective disorder or some form of anemia.  That had been the start of their group's warm-up-Mari efforts, and he had to admit, he liked the close contact.  Taking care of her in both his forms made him so happy and it gave him all sorts of ideas for how to best help Ladybug.

"What?" she asked, sliding into her seat beside him.

He shrugged off the coat he'd been wearing, but didn't need.  "Here you go.  Pre-warmed."

Her eyes went huge, and for a brief moment he was reminded of their early interactions, when she couldn't seem to string three words together around him.  "I love you," she blurted, snatching the jacket out of his hands and shoving her arms into the sleeves.  "Ooooh," she moaned, hugging the fabric to her.  "Sooo warm."

He couldn't hold back the chuckle, and didn't want to anyway.  "I run a little hot."

"A little?" she teased.

Shaking his head, he continued.  "It's my high metabolism or something, and I'm happy to share."  He reached out and zipped the front for her, allowing her keep her fingers tucked in the over-long sleeves as long as possible.  "Better?"

"Much.  Thank you."  Her smile made his chest feel tight, not with sorrow or hurt, but so full of happiness it was stretching.  

"Alya said you've entered something in my father's latest contest," he said, nudging her with an elbow.  To be more accurate, he'd asked Alya about it so he could claim to have talked to her about it.  Chat was fully in the know, though he'd unfortunately not been able to stop by to see the finished piece before she turned it in.  The photos she'd taken were good, but he suspected they paled compared to her vision.  

Marinette nodded.  "Yeah."  She glanced up at him and grinned.  "I kinda took the suit coat theme to an extreme."  She'd included elements of Victorian men's tailcoats, corset lacing, and angel sleeves for something incredibly striking, yet adjustable.

"Yeah, why did my father pick suit coats?" he asked, shaking his head.  "They're a freaking plague in my closet."

"We hates them, my precious," Marinette said, pulling off a pretty passable Gollum imitation before switching back to her regular voice.  "The official word is that he wants to see what we can do with something we see every day.  How do we embrace the mundane?" she said dramatically.

"I personally prefer to embrace them with a torch," Adrien suggested.  "Foom!  Bye bye poly-blend."

"Oh my god Adrien."  She reached out and rested a hand on his arm, her face concerned.  "Who is dressing you in poly-blends?  You can tell me."  Her sleeve-covered hand patted him gently.  "What they're doing is wrong, and I can help you."

He let out a strangled giggle.  "You going to protect me from my father, then, are you?"

She sat up straighter, suddenly radiating a fierceness that should not have fit in the tiny sweet package known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  "If that's what you need, then yes."  The look she gave him was suddenly far too serious and pointed for the joking they'd started with.

He looked down at her hand on his arm, her fingertips just peeking out of the oversize jacket.  "Thanks Mari."

Her hand gave him one little squeeze before withdrawing so she could pull out her tablet.  "Anytime Adrien."

"Can you tell me about your design?" he asked.  "You've got me all curious now."

"You hate suit coats," she pointed out.  Her eyes went wide.  "Oh no!  You're going to have to model the winning design... and you hate them."  She sighed.  "I hope I lose."

"Why?" he demanded, surprised.  "I'm going to have to model one anyway."

"I don't want you tortured by my design," she said.  "Do you think I can pull out of the contest?"

Adrien shook his head.  "No.  And even if you could, I wouldn't want you to."  She'd taken first place in five of the last seven contests, only being beaten by university students enrolled in design programs.  He was hoping she could bump the odds up a bit more with this one.  He liked what he'd seen of her design, practically designed with him in mind, and he really wanted the opportunity to wear it.  

"But…"

"No, Mari," he said firmly.  "I have to wear one anyway.  It may as well be yours.  After all, at least it won't be a poly-blend."  He  grinned and settled back in his chair.  "Tell me about it?"  Their teacher walked in and the bell rang.  

"If you have time after school, why don't you stop over," she suggested.  "I've got photos and fabric swatches."

"Princess?"  Chat leaned down and tapped on Marinette's skylight.  It was odd for her to not be in at this time of evening, and he couldn't help the stupid alarm bells going off in the back of his head.  He was probably over-reacting.  She was probably with Alya.  But it couldn't hurt to check, right?  The skylight lifted easily, always a sign that he was welcome, and he dropped into her darkened room.  He listened for a moment before descending the stairs.  He'd nearly been caught early on when he was still stupidly excited to be so welcome and Marinette or her parents had company.  He picked up Tom and Sabine's voices, and the obvious sounds of food preparation.

"Evening Chat," Tom said, waving from the kitchen, where he stood over a deep silver kettle.  "Did you bring Maricake back?"

Chat shook his head.  "She wasn't in, and…" he caught himself before he could confess his stupid groundless fear.  "There was something I wanted to talk to her about."  He didn't like the frown that appeared on Tom's face.  "Umm.  Where is she?"

"She went to the library directly after school," Sabine said, pulling out her cell phone.

He didn't remember her saying she needed to go study, but then, he'd noticed she tended to not tell him what her plans were when he was scheduled for fencing and Mandarin, because he'd just miss out.  "Which one did she go to?"

"François-Mitterrand," Sabine said, holding the phone to her ear.  She waited a moment, then shook her head.  "She's not picking up."

Chat felt the rush of adrenaline, as her words seemed to reinforce the strange feeling he'd gotten that something was wrong.

"She might just be unable to pick up," Tom cautioned, though his voice was tight.

"Yeah," Chat said with a nod.  "But I'm not going to bank on that."  He pulled out his baton.  He flipped up the communicator and scrolled to Tom and Sabine's contacts, sending them each a message so they could reach him easily.  "I'm going to go find her.  Message me if you hear from her."

"We will," Sabine promised, her eyes on her phone.  "I'm going to check in with her other friends in case any of them have seen her."

"Good plan.  Text me what you learn."  He didn't even wait for a response, and just darted up the steps to her room.  

François-Mitterrand was far enough that she would have taken the train.  He ducked in and out of the stop near her house, before taking to the rooftops to get there faster.  He forced himself to check the train station near the library before heading to the main desk.  As a well-known superhero, he was greeted with enthusiasm and immediate support from the library staff.  Each floor and section was quickly checked by librarians and clerks who reported their findings to the head of security while Chat watched the surveillance footage for the main entrance.  The clerk from the textile and fashion collection called in to report that three books had been checked out by Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng forty minutes earlier.  Chat forwarded the video to times closer to that record.

"Ah!"  He pointed, pausing the playback.  "There she is."

The head of security tapped the corner of the monitor.  "Twenty-two minutes ago."  He resumed the video.  "And she headed south-east."

Chat scowled at the screen.  That was the wrong direction for her to catch the train.  "Thank you so much for the help."  He lurched to his feet and dashed from the room.  When he got to the sidewalk on Avenue de France, he pulled out his communicator and tapped Sabine's contact info.

"Hello, Chat?" she answered.

"Yeah," he replied.  "She left the library about twenty-five minutes ago."

"I just got a text from her," Sabine said quickly.  "She said she was cold, so she went to L'Arobase Cafe on Rue du Chevaleret, and she'd be leaving any minute."

Chat closed his eyes and let out a sigh as his concern was abruptly abated.  It wasn't completely gone, but he could breathe now.  His focus was suddenly less narrow and frantic.  "She couldn't have gone to one of the three cafes on the library campus?" he wanted to know.

Sabine chuckled.  "Apparently they all have less than stellar reviews for a reason."

"I'm going to go meet her," he said.  "I'm already here and…"  Would he sound controlling and creepy if he mentioned he was still worried?

"I was going to ask you to," Sabine said happily.  "She's been having so much trouble with the cold this year, we can't help but worry," she admitted.  "And if it fits into your schedule, we'd love to have you stay for dinner."

His fingers slid over the screen to glance at his schedule.  "Yeah.  That would be great."  He never turned down the opportunity to feel like he was part of a family.  

Once he'd hung up, he took the quick route to the cafe.  He was getting close when his extra sensitive ears caught the sound of a mighty pissed off Princess.

"I have already declined, and I'm not sure why you're having such a hard time understanding that I've said no," Marinette snapped.  "Are you stupid?"

Chat really disliked the sound of that, but he slowed his movements to creep up on the situation from above.  Marinette stood on the sidewalk a few doors down from the cafe.  A young man with light brown hair and a red jacket stood directly in her path.

"I just can't help but feel like we have a connection," he said, his tone wheedling and reasonable, though his words and body language were anything but.  "If you give me a chance, I'm sure you'll feel it too."

Chat couldn't quite see her glare, given the angle, but he knew it was there and he grinned.  Mari wasn't someone to mess with, and could definitely handle herself in normal conditions.  It would only irritate her if he interfered.  He'd have no qualms jumping in if she needed it, and given her problems with the cold, it seemed sensible to be ready to intervene.

"The only thing I feel right now," Marinette said, "is a strong urge to bust your kneecaps and kick in your teeth."

"See, I knew you were feisty," the man said, as if this justified his earlier argument.  He reached out to touch her chin.  "You're beautiful when you play at being dominant, princess."

The growl hadn't even left Chat's throat when she reacted, and she was wicked fast.  In mere seconds, the man's hand was twisted up between his shoulder blades while his face was pressed into the nearby brick wall.  It was a move his Lady was partial to, and she was probably the only person he'd ever seen do it faster.  

"Only one person is allowed to call me Princess," she snarled.  "And you are not him."

That sounded as good as any entrance cue.  "While it looks like you have this well under control," he said, slowly twirling down his staff.  " Is there any chance I could lend a paw?"

She beamed up at him.  "Chat Noir, what a delightful surprise.  It's fabulous how you're always exactly where you're needed."

"Aww, shucks."  Her praise felt genuine so of course his cheeks went hot.  "Just doing my job."  He embraced the opportunity to look at his communicator for police dispatch, hoping the blush would fade before she noticed.  "Hello, this is Chat Noir.  I'm at Rue du Chevaleret near L'Arobase Cafe, and we have a harasser for you to pick up."

"It wasn't like that," the man objected, his voice muffled a bit by the wall.

"Hmm," Chat growled.  "It looked rather a lot like that, actually.  I was watching for a bit, you see.  I recognize that some ladies are quite prepared to handle men like you."  He allowed his disgust to feed into the last three words.  The nerve of the guy.  How dare he touch Princess without her consent, and after she'd told him to back off?  "And miss, may I congratulate you on your very fine skills?  My Lady is fond of that particular defense."  Did he imagine that her eyes went wide at that statement?  The sudden pink tinge to her cheeks had nothing to do with the weather.

"Oh!"  She turned away, seeming quite focused on checking her hand placement, which was still perfect.  "Yeah.  I've… uh seen Ladybug use it in videos, and I really liked it.  So I've practiced it with a friend of mine."

Chat nodded.  Had she tried it out on Alya or Nino, or someone else entirely?  "Smart of you and your friend."  

He stayed with Marinette until the police arrived, and added his witness report to the record, knowing it would hold enough weight that she wouldn't have to be bothered with this mess again.  As the young man was being tucked into the back of the car, he approached the door.  "A moment, please."  He leaned in, leveling the man with a glare that had been quite effective on others.  "I realize things didn't go as planned, and you're probably quite upset just now.  But I advise against making friends with any purple butterflies, because I will not feel inclined to restrain myself if I have to fight you in akuma form.  And Ladybug's miraculous cure doesn't entirely fix those injuries."

Marinette was looking at him oddly when he rejoined her at the sidewalk.  "Chat," she said quietly.  "Did you threaten that man?"

He shot her low-level kitten eyes, the ones he used to imply innocence that didn't exist.  "Why Princess, I would never."  He shook his head.  "I just recommended against getting akumatized over this incident."

Her lips twitched as she tried not to smile.  "Oh.  That would be inconvenient."

He nodded.  "I've been invited to dinner, and I'd hate to miss it."  He held out a hand.  "Might I escort you home?  Your parents were worried about you."

" Just my parents?" she asked as she slipped her much smaller hand into his.

He shrugged.  "My Princess can take care of herself," he noted.  "But I don't like it when you have to."  He pulled her close to his side, the way he preferred to carry passengers for optimal mobility and safety.  "Um… I'm pretty sure you would’ve told me by now, but watching you deal with that jerk just makes me want to be clear on something."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Is it okay that I call you Princess?"  He'd hate to give up the nickname, it had come to mean so much more than the word itself.  But if it made her uncomfortable, he wouldn't hesitate to stop.  Well, try to stop.  It would probably take a few weeks to retrain himself if necessary.

"You heard what I said, right?" she asked, leaning forward to look into his face.  "I was talking about you.  Only you get to call me that."

He spontaneously hugged her, something he didn't usually do.  "Thank you Princess."  Why did this make him so ridiculously happy?  "Let's get you home.  Mama Cheng has dinner ready.

Chapter title - "Making a whole cheese" is a French idiom equivalent to "tempest in a teacup."

Chapter artwork by @soundofez​, posted with permission, can be found here.

Huge thanks to my betas: Karnival and @chatbug-jk​

[heauxadamas]

“But Mom!” Part 2

The redhead stares at her phone for a solid five seconds after the call has been dropped. She’s sure that was Beca. She said she was a DJ and…

Her voice.

How fast she talks.

Her rambling. Oh god, her rambling.

She can’t get Beca’s voice wrong. She’s sure of it.

She was snapped out of it when Aubrey put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her with eyes asking if she was okay.

“Bree, that was Beca… Beca met Charlie.” Chloe said slowly as if she was still trying to convince herself that she was right.

Aubrey stops pacing and holds Chloe by her shoulders, “What do you mean she met Charlie, Chloe? She told you she was Beca?”

“No! But I know Beca’s voice, Bree. I just know it.” Chloe’s eyes were teary and Aubrey didn’t want to argue anymore. “Okay okay. But let’s go look for your little boy first.”

“You’re right.” Chloe starts walking when Aubrey stops her.

“What are you gonna tell her, though… if it’s really her?”

“I don’t know, Bree. I guess she needs to know the truth.” Chloe sighs and starts walking off again.

Beca kept walking around the beach. She went back to the restaurant, she went to the kiddie play area, she went to ask for help from the concierge, and for a moment, she decided that it wasn’t her problem and headed to the path which was near her place.

At the back of her mind, she couldn’t just abandon the kid. So when she was about to turn around, she saw Charlie talking to a couple probably a little bit older than her.

She heard him saying “I’m so hungry.”

Which was definitely her cue to grab the boy. “I’m so sorry about him! He gets hungry all the time. Forgive me.”

The woman smiles sweetly at Charlie and glares at Beca after whispering “Did you just lose your child?”

Beca rolls her eyes at this and kneels so she could be face to face with Charlie. “Buddy! You got me all worried! Why’d you run off?”

Out of nowhere the boy starts crying and Beca was already wiping the tears away from his eyes “Hey hey, what happened, young man?”

“I’m… so… sorry… m-mommy was… m-mad… she never shouted… at m-me before…” Charlie explained in between his sobs while his face was in between Beca’s hands.

Beca carried the 5-year-old boy and pats his back so he would stop crying. When he leaned on the crane of Beca’s neck, she whispered, “You know buddy, your mom was just worried. Losing someone you love is really hard. And your mom really loves you. I promise, when she sees you she will just hug you. She won’t get mad. She’ll hug you and kiss you and tell you that she loves you. So let’s go looking for her, okay?”

The boy pulled his head back and looked at the brunette who was smiling sweetly at him. ”Okay DJ.“ The boy nods and leaned again to hug her.

The DJ grabs her phone from her back pocket using her right hand and shoots the mom a text.

‘Hi! I found Charlie. He’s already fallen asleep though. I totally forgot that he isn’t my kid and tucked him in my bed. I’m checked in at Lux… Uhm it’s in the South Ari Atoll? Just come by the concierge and I’ll tell them you’re looking for Charlie. - DJ who DIDN’T kidnap your adorable kid’

They were back in their hotel room hoping that Charlie might have gone there. He’s a smart kid after all. When they got to the door, Chloe’s phone buzzed.

"She found Charlie, Bree! Look.” The redhead flashes her phone to the blonde.

Aubrey couldn’t exactly read the message so she took the phone from the redhead who’ started walking around saying, ”This sounds a LOT like Beca. I can hear her saying this, Bree!!! Can’t you?”

The blonde couldn’t deny that it does sound like her midget friend. The number looks too familiar. And well… she did receive the e-mail Beca’s sent to everyone. And she may or may not have been the one to convince Chloe to spend a vacation here. She may or may not have been continuously talking to one gorgeous brunette who happens to be way taller than Beca.

But Beca wasn’t supposed to meet Charlie until after she sees Chloe. She ruined this whole thing. What on earth will she tell, Stacie?!

“You have to be the one to pick him up!“ Chloe snaps Aubrey out of her misery.

Thinking quickly (and hoping not to spoil the plan only she and Stacie knows of) she said, “That can’t be Beca.”

“How are you so sure?” the redhead challenges her.

“Chloe, Charlie’s home screen wallpaper is you! Even just a dash of red hair would have immediately caught Beca’s eye you know.” Aubrey says confidently, not a sound of doubt in her voice.

The redhead starts sobbing for the nth time that night. “You’re right. I completely lost B-Beca.”

Aubrey scanned Chloe’s key card for her and guided the redhead inside while patting her back. “Okay, you should rest. I’ll go get Charlie, okay?”

The redhead nods and went to the bathroom while her best friend left to go fetch her son. She turned on the shower and got in. She couldn’t help but think about what happened five years ago.

The Bellas had just won the Worlds and Chloe was really looking forward to this. She swore to herself that she’d finally kiss Beca after it was announced that they were the champions. She’s been wanting to do that for sooooo many years since their first ICCA win together. But no, because Beca ran off to Jesse and kissed the hell out of him.

It’s the Worlds though. Jesse isn’t here. He hasn’t been around for 6 months, thanks to his internship in New York. They’re pretty much broken up, right? So Chloe had a one track mind. She’d kiss Beca tonight.

But none of that happened. Because Jesse was there in the backstage.

And Beca ran to him as soon as they heard the announcement. Chloe didn’t see them kiss.

But she ran to him. Again. Beca chose him. Again.

Chloe got off the stage with the Bellas and drunk herself to death during the after party. She didn’t see Beca the whole time so she ran off with the first person who hit on her.

It was three weeks later when the Bellas’ graduation came and the afterparty was the biggest they had since their win in the worlds.

Chloe was wallowing in her room holding on to a stick showing so much positivity, when Beca came inside to check in on her.

"Chlo?”

She didn’t answer.

“Chloe… there’s something… Chloe I’m in love with you,” the brunette laughs breathily “God I was so stupid. I’m so in love with you, Chloe Beale. And you’re in love with me too, right? I know it.”

The redhead finally had the courage to face her. “You don’t… you don’t love me, Beca.“ And starts walking out of the house.

That was the last time they saw each other.

Aubrey walks out of the hotel room quickly calling Stacie. “Stacie, thank God! I thought you were already flying out here!”

Phone Conversation Stacie: No! My flight’s in 5 hours. I’m at Dubai’s airport now. What’s up? Aubrey: Okay so here’s the thing. Chloe, Charlie and I were lounging on the beach when Chloe and I both fell asleep and Charlie, I assume ran off. Stacie: You lost Charlie?!!! Aubrey: Let me finish!!! Stacie: Oh, I will. Aubrey: Stacie!!! Stacie: Okay go on, go on! Aubrey: So I don’t know how it happened, exactly but when we woke up Charlie was missing and we called him and he was with Beca but I think he ran away because Beca called us again through her own phone and told us that Charlie ran away but she promised to look for him. Chloe couldn’t speak and Beca just dropped the call but she found him and texted us again that she did. Stacie: Okay breathe… BUT Chloe can’t see Beca!!! Charlie shouldn’t even be in the picture!!! Yet. I mean I love that kid but I don’t know how Beca would respond to all of this. Aubrey: I know… What do we do? Stacie: Okay. Hold on. I’ll call Beca check in. And fish some info. If she really has Charlie, you’re gonna have to get someone to pretend to be his nanny or his mom and get her to pick him up from Beca’s. If it’s not, just go grab him yourself. Aubrey: That’s… not a bad idea. Stacie: I know. Aubrey: Okay, thanks Stacie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Stacie: See ya. Aubrey: Oh hey, Stace? Stacie: Yes, babe. I miss you too. Aubrey: Love you. Let me know about the call, okay? Stacie: Yes ma’am. Love you.

Yeah, they’ve been dating for a while since Chloe, Aubrey and Charlie decided to drive to Houston to see NASA. Chloe begged for Stacie to keep Charlie a secret from the rest of the Bellas and promised that she’ll help the brunette woo her best friend (even there was no wooing needed anymore). 

So she picked up her phone and dialled her tiny brunette friend who was already in Maldives. 

Phone Conversation Beca: Conrad? Don’t tell me there’s a problem. I’ve already had enough for one day. Stacie: No, no. I just wanted to let you know that I’m stuck in a 5-hour layover here in Dubai. Beca: You could’ve texted you know? Stacie: Yeah, yeah. So what’s your problem? Lay it all on me. Beca: There’s this kid who hit me with a beach ball and he’s in my bed now. He’s annoyingly endearing. Tell no one, but if I have a kid, I wish it’d be more like this one. Stacie: Really? Beca: Nope. Stacie: Give that kid back, Beca!!! Beca: Yeah, I’m just waiting on the supposed mom. You know she’s really irresponsible. It’s been more than 10 minutes and she hasn’t replied. Like, what on earth? Stacie: Calm your tits and take care of that kid. Send me a photo! Beca: Sure sure. Let me know when you land here. Stacie: Bye Beca!

As soon as she hung up on Stacie, she took a selfie with the kid and sent it to the taller brunette with the caption, “Don’t show this to anyone. I think I could kidnap this kid.” Stacie replied with, “Redhead huh ;) No wonder, Beca.” and told Aubrey that Beca does have Charlie.

The DJ couldn’t help but scoff at Stacie’s reply and couldn’t help but think back to the redhead that’s been occupying her mind every dull moment she has.

She remembered sitting on the steps of the Bellas’ House beside Jesse. The guy’s bags were all packed and he was just there to say goodbye. Beca broke up with him that day. Told him that things really wouldn’t work out with the long distance thing.

“You know you can tell me, right?” Jesse says quietly.

She just looks at him with confusion and as if her face says it all, he spoke again. “You love me… but… you’re not in love with me. At least not anymore.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Beca growls at him.

He just smiles. “Aw come on, Becaw. It’s fine. You might not have figured it out yet but you will. Someday. Trust me, I saw this coming a loooong time ago and I’m just thankful to have been loved by and to have loved you.”

“You. Are. Such a weirdo.” The brunette girl looks at him with confusion but hugs him anyway.

He hugs her back so tightly and he promised that they’d keep in touch after 2 months because he needs time to move on. She was thankful enough that Jesse wasn’t mad at her for giving up on their relationship.

It was 5 months after he left that Beca realised that she’s been in love with Chloe all along. Jesse was so supportive of this whole ‘Bhloe’ thing which was why he promised Beca that he’d be there during the World’s. They’d be able to catch up but most of all, he’d be able to help organise a huge date for Chloe right after they bag the championship.

So as soon as they were announced the winner and a candid group photo was already taken, Beca ran off to the backstage where Jesse was holding a bouquet of sunflowers. Flowers that Beca was supposed to give to Chloe but when she looked back, all the Bellas were already off to the party and Beca literally had no idea where the party was.

Honestly, it was absurd because she should have at least been invited! Sure, she hasn’t been paying much attention if the girls weren’t talking about the Worlds’ Competition itself, because god forbid, she was too busy planning the big Chloe surprise.

She tried ringing all the Bellas’ but she figured everyone were too wasted after calling them three times each and Chloe five. So she looked at Jesse, “Let’s just go to the place and eat the food ourselves.” So they went on the date with Beca sulking and Jesse comforting her. Beca was so mad at the Bellas’ about the whole no-invite-thing so she and Jesse drank their asses off themselves. She crashed in Jesse’s hotel and left early in the morning to go to the house they rented for a week.

Nothing happened. Their friendship was purely platonic this time around.

She came home to “Hey Shawshank where were you last night?” and she couldn’t believe it they didn’t bother asking her during the party? But she decided to let it go when a certain redhead came in with a hangover, hugging her from the back.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t get to pick up. I lost my phone for a while and when I found it… I was gonna call you but it died.” she kissed Beca on the cheek and walked to her room without another word.

All her anger was thrown out the window (obviously not having spotted the hickeys trailing Chloe’s neck). So that’s when she decided to just confess everything that she felt for the redhead during the Bellas’ Graduation Party.

"Chloe… there’s something… Chloe I’m in love with you,” she laughs nervously “God I was so stupid. I’m so in love with you, Chloe Beale. And you’re in love with me too, right? I know it.”

When the redhead finally faced her. She was surprised to see her crying. She didn’t know what to expect. “You don’t… you don’t love me, Beca.“ were the words that came out of Chloe’s mouth and she was frozen in her place.

She watched Chloe leave that night and that was the last time they saw each other.

*DING DONG*

She was snapped out of her reminiscing by the sound of the doorbell. When she opened the door, she was met by a black haired woman with glasses. “Hi. I’m here to pick up Charles?”

“Um… you’re the mom? I’m sorry… it’s just that..” Beca hesitates. Charlie is a redhead. And it’s CharlIE not CharlES!

The woman bows her head down. “No, I’m actually the nanny who lost him. His mom told me to come pick him up… I really didn’t mean to lose him…” she starts to cry.

‘Crap.’ “Ohh hold on. Can I see an ID please? Also can I take a picture of you?” Beca was being extremely over protective of Charlie and if it weren’t for the willing wannabe actress that Aubrey came across, she would’ve been busted. So the woman showed her an ID and willingly had her photo taken and Beca gave her Charlie who happens to be a heavy sleeper even if he was being picked up and carried and passed to another person.

She quickly texted Stacie, “I might have given the kid to the real kidnapper but here’s her ID and a mugshot of her.”

The taller brunette laughs at how protective Beca was being. Seriously, where did Aubrey get this ‘nanny’? When she got the text from Aubrey with a selfie, “Can’t believe the midget gave the kid to a random person so easily.” She replied with a screenshot of Beca’s text with the ID Card and the mugshot.

Both women laughed at their tiny brunette friend. And both secretly wished that Beca was indeed Charlie’s other parent. Things would be so much better and everyone would be happier.

If only.

A/N: You guys are so fucking cute so I decided to continue this. Lol. Also, I like Staubrey lol. Feel free to let me know what u guys think! Also, I’m writing another bechloe fic, it’s Doctor, We Need You. You can check it out here. 

Quick Links: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

[jenroses]

Original Female Character: Ashley Burton

For @omgcpwomenfest Friday March 10 Original Female Character day.

Oh, Ashley. Now, if you haven’t read Actually, I Do Make the Rules, you should probably go do that first. As Ashley is the mother of another OC that shows up in the fifth story in the series, this does contain some spoilerish stuff for that and you might want to go read that first. For those who have read it, Ashley is Theo’s mother. 

More behind the cut. Warnings for teen pregnancy, the kind of dubious consent that happens when kids the same age don’t know shit about sex (it’s complicated, but neither of them would call it rape, and it’s not explicitly described,) the aftermath, and spoilers for Broken Rules. Ashley’s story is not a particularly happy one. 

Also, contains references to a trans character who is misgendered on purpose for protective reasons because the person doing the knowing misgendering doesn’t have permission to out him to his mother.

Ashley was raised in a Southern Baptist family, which moved to Rhode Island from Georgia when she was ten. They didn’t so much leave Georgia as bring it with them. 

She spent every summer at a church camp in Western Massachusetts. She was a pretty, ordinary girl, and never really thought of herself as much of a rebel, but she met Simon when she was 12. They became fast friends, and while being a teenager sucked, looking forward to camp got her through her Mama’s lectures and her Daddy’s anger. Each summer she would escape to trees and canoes and giggling slumber parties and yeah, there was some dramatic bullshit from the other girls because there was always dramatic bullshit from the other girls, but she just rolled with it.

And Simon was the actual best. When all the thirteen-year-old girls in her cabin were PMS-ing at once, she escaped the snarling to sit with him on the dock at the lake, just talking. He listened to her like no one had ever listened, and she listed to him in turn, and he always, always felt safe. 

They became camp counselors the year they turned 15, and with that came more freedom than they’d ever had. Both of them had reputations as “good kids,” and by the beginning of the next summer, they had more freedom than either of them had ever had in their lives.  They’d been close for two summers. Neither was allowed social media, and in 2002, for a couple of teenagers living with conservative Christian parents, it wasn’t all that strange. Writing letters wasn’t really an option because their parents were the sort who would read all mail, and her father would want to know everything. Running the risk of being banned from camp wasn’t worth a few letters.

It was the last week of camp, almost the last day, the summer she was 16, and they’d made their way down to the dock by the light of a full moon so bright they didn’t even bother with a flashlight. 

She’d been the one to strip off her clothes and dive into the water, still warm from the sun, the humid air holding heat far into the evening. He’d been stunned, but eventually followed, and they’d swum out to the big rock in the middle of the lake.

They’d kissed, before, and they kissed then, and then things led to things and while she knew they hadn’t talked about much, she also knew it hadn’t been Simon pushing things along. Not that either of them was doing much thinking at that point. 

When it was over, she smiled at him, shy, and he looked vaguely horrified, and the bubble of safety she’d felt with him seemed to pop completely.

“I have to go to sleep,” she’d said, sliding back into the water. “It’s a busy day tomorrow.”

He’d started to say, “I’m sorry,” but she dove off the ledge under the water and swam in powerful strokes to reach the shore before the words could finish coming out of his mouth.

He’d followed, and tried to say something about how he hadn’t meant to lead her into sin, and she’d just rolled her eyes, put on her clothes, and walked away. 

It would be 20 years before they’d speak again, when she’d run into him in a park in Providence, watching a curly-haired blonde boy shrieking with laughter on a swing while a blonde young man pushed the child up and up again.

He’d changed, shoulders thicker, face grown up, babyfat gone, but the kindness in his eyes was still there. It wasn’t that, though, that really caught her attention, but the way he’d tipped his head when he laughed at the little boy jumping off the swing.

She was on her way home from work, and she stared at him for a full minute before he’d noticed she was there.

She knew she looked different. Stress had drawn lines on her face, age had dimmed her hair and bleach had not quite done the job she’d wanted it to do, to put the light back into it. But she’d worn ponytails often enough at camp, and rarely makeup, and so maybe she hadn’t changed all that much, because his eyes widened and he was on his feet as soon as he saw her. His eyes darted back to the child and the young man behind him, and slid away, and all she could do was stare at him as he walked over.

“Cinders?” he said, his voice a much deeper baritone than she’d remembered. 

“Simon says,” she murmured. 

He stared at her another moment and then held his arms open.

She blinked back tears and accepted the hug, and then pulled back. 

“I know,” he said.

“You know?”

“About the baby you had. My baby. About everything.”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

He hesitated, and then said, “Yeah, doing great. In college now. Has a trust fund, even.”

“And... the baby? No one told me what happened to it. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.”

His eyes flicked over and then back to her and he said, “He’s just fine. He’s been adopted, and his parents adore him.”

“Do they let you... do they let you see him?”

At that, he laughed. “You could say that. Yes, I see them both, often.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “My daddy...”

“Suzanne told me,” Simon explained. “When she found me, she said you didn’t tell me because you were afraid your father would kill me.”

“I thought I’d done something against your will, and the idea of him hurting you after that...” She looked down at the ground. “I didn’t want to ruin both of us.”

“Against my... Ash, no. We were kids. No one told us anything like what we needed to know to stay out of trouble. I only reacted the way I did because I felt like I’d done something wrong to you, that I’d hurt you, that I’d ruined you. I still worry that I did.”

She shook her head. “I’m adult enough now to know where the fault lies. I should have told you about Shelly. I should have let you have the choice to be involved. Maybe I wouldn’t have...” Her hand came up to her mouth, and she sobbed. “I don’t think I knew how to be a good mother to her. I tried, and I failed, and I really hurt her.”

“You did hurt...her,” Simon said quietly. “And maybe, someday, she might be willing to sit down with you and let you apologize. But there’s a lot we’d have to talk about, first, things you’d need to understand about who she is and the life she’s living now.” 

“I just wanted to keep her on a path with God, so that she wouldn’t make the mistakes I made, and when she said she was pregnant... Oh god, I did to her what my daddy did to me, didn’t I?”

“The difference is that she ended up where she needed to be, with people who could support her through the process and help her get to where she wanted to be. And you... didn’t.”

“I’m working. I’m surviving.” She wasn’t looking at him.

He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, and said, “Can I get your number? I don’t want to lose track, and if our child is willing to give you a chance, I’d be more than willing to help make that happen.”

She glanced up at him and then took the phone, entering her number in, and sending herself a text. 

She bit her lips and said, “I missed you, you know. Every day.”

“Yeah,” he said. He took the phone back, and glanced back over his shoulder again. 

“I... You probably have plans,” she said. “I need to get home.”

“I do have plans, but please, do send me a message. Or I can message you?”

She smiled, a small, worried smile. “I think I’d like that.” 

“Good.” His smile was genuine, and for a moment, she could see the boy she’d fallen in love with, so long ago. 

She swallowed back a wave of emotion that threatened to swamp her, and walked away.

She looked back once, just before the park was out of sigh, to see Simon picking up the little four year old child and tossing him up in the air, and then handing him back to the other man. Her hand came up to her mouth, and she thought about going back, about asking if that child was her grandson, and then she thought about what he’d said, and what she’d done, and she turned, and walked away.

As she was locking the deadbolt on her front door, and hanging her purse up on the hat rack, her phone buzzed in her pocket.