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monicashipslokius · 3 years ago

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Soulmates Actually Pt 5 (of 6)

(Read Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4)

Loki drags their hands up Mobius’s front, palms flat against his chest, pressing wrinkles into his white shirt. At Mobius’s shoulders, Loki slides their fingers under Mobius’s suit jacket and eases down Mobius’s arms. Mobius straightens his elbows, and the jacket falls unceremoniously to the floor, a dark mark on the beige carpeting. The green tie quickly follows.

Mobius watches Loki with a hooded, passion-filled gaze as their deft fingers open the buttons of his shirt, one after the next, before it too falls down to the floor.

When Loki’s hands finally touch bare skin, they are desperate for it. They follow the path made when Mobius was clothed, up his chest, over his shoulders.

“Loki,” Mobius says, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

Loki wraps their arms around Mobius’s waist and pulls him closer. Loki is wearing their silk sleep-shirt, but the fabric is so thin they can still feel the heat of Mobius’s skin against their own.

Loki drops a kiss to Mobius’s bare shoulder, a line across his clavicle, and then up the side of his neck. Mobius tilts his head away, giving Loki more access.

Mobius’s fingers dance up the length of Loki’s arms. He clutches Loki’s shoulders a moment, bunching the nightshirt as Loki bites gently at the soft spot behind Mobius’s ear.

“I want to do this right,” Mobius says. “It’s right for me, but is it right for you?”

Loki hums, trailing a path of kisses to Mobius’s lips before claiming them. Loki pulls away too soon, and smiles when Mobius leans forward, following them. “You are doing perfectly.”

Another kiss. Two. “Not too fast?”

Loki pulls away again, only so far as to look Mobius in the eye so he will know the depth of their feeling as they say, “If I do not have you this moment, I will burst.”

Mobius laughs, and Loki’s heart swells with new, unknown feeling - pride, happiness, unconditional affection. Mobius has won startled laughs from Loki many times but never the other way around. Mobius’s eyes sparkle with delight, with interest and joy and some pride of his own.

Loki wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Not too fast then.” Mobius’s smile lingers.

“No.”

“Good,” Mobius says, and gives Loki a shove.

Loki, caught unawares, falls back onto the bed. “Mobius!” Immediate they are on their elbows, watching Mobius step closer, up to the bed, in the open space between Loki’s legs.

Heart racing at the potential, blissful implications, Loki attempts to keep cool and lifts one lone brow. “My soulmate is feeling bold, I see.”

As Mobius’s hands reach for the waistband of Loki’s sleep-pants, Loki gathers all of their willpower not to whimper out, please. Despite their efforts, it still erupts from their throat, a cut off, strangled sound of desperation that makes Mobius’s smile grow into a shark-like grin.

“Your soulmate,” he says, dropping to his knees, “intends to worship their mischievous god.”

Loki has been in many sexy situations across the centuries, but never in their very long life have they ever felt this much longing, this much lust -

No, more than lust. Desire coupled with affection, wrapped up in...

“Mobius.”

At the first whispered touch, Loki’s thoughts frizzle out, and they do not return for a long, long time.

The apartment’s dark, lit only from the dim starlight peeking through the sheer curtains and the flashing clock on the microwave that neither of them set properly.

Loki’s cheek is pressed to Mobius’s bare chest, their ear over Mobius’s heart, listening to the strong, steady rhythm. Mobius’s breath is slow and deep; he fell asleep hours ago. But Loki, even with their body pleasantly exhausted and their desire temporarily sated, lies awake.

They count Mobius’s heartbeats, but hold their breath for the space between them. Humans are fragile things with such short lifespans. Fifty seems so young, but for Mobius, that is already over half his life.

“I think I should retire,” Mobius said earlier, over dinner. “I’ve worked since I was sixteen. Saved and saved. I’ve got enough investments to see us through for a good long while.”

“You love your work,” Loki said, half-hoping they hid the hope in their voice successfully enough to appear supportive.

Mobius laughed, happy and fond, which perhaps was a reveal all its own. “If I dropped dead right now, they would replace me tomorrow.” He stabbed his fork through a green bean, but he might as well stabbed Loki through the heart. His gaze on the food, he didn’t appear to notice. “It’s not personal. It’s a good company. They’ve treated me well over the years. But... that’s just how jobs work. I don’t know. I have more to live for now than just that. And we can afford it.” He laughed again, softer and sadder. “I want to at least have a few years where I can keep up with you.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Loki said, and they could hear their own desperation.

Mobius finally looked up at Loki, and even though he smiled, he could not hide the gentle heartache in his eyes. “I’m no spring chicken, Loki. Eventually -”

“Do not finish that thought, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“I’m just saying that -”

“I know what you are ‘just saying’ and I will not hear it. I will not leave you behind, and that is the end of the discussion.”

Mobius’s brows lifted high, and Loki expected further argument. But per usual, Mobius subverted all expectations and laughed again, as happy and fond as before.

“If anyone can figure out a way to cheat death, it’s you,” he said then.

He snores a little now. His arms clutch Loki closer, even in sleep. And Loki renews their vow, quiet in the dark.

“Nothing will take you from me.”

Mobius puts in his two week notice the next day.

The photo of his office building that he kept on the dresser gets replaced with one of he and Loki together - much of the wall space in their apartment does too. Their smiling faces greet them at every turn.

Perhaps it’s narcissistic, Loki wonders, to have that many pictures of them in their own home, but Loki is so unaccustomed to their own happiness, it is like looking at a stranger.

When they tell Mobius, Mobius smiles and kisses them. He doesn’t reply with words, but he does get that far away look in his eye, the one that appears when his joints are too stiff in the morning, or when he wakes up from having fallen asleep on the recliner without having meant to, or when he looks in the mirror at his gray hair and promises Loki, “I used to be blond.”

And though he never says, I want you to have something to remember me by, Loki can hear the words as loudly as if he shouted them.

Mobius taps his finger on the top of the dresser, near the framed photo of his parents. “You know, I only have this one picture of them. Forty years with them in my life, of phone calls and Christmas cards, too few visits. All of it down to one picture and a bunch of fuzzy memories.”

Loki stands beside him, glancing briefly at the photo before staring at Mobius, at the far away look, and the rare-sadness tilting down his mouth. Yet before they can think of something that would bring some measure of comfort, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Let’s go on vacation.”

Surprise replaces worry, and Loki glances at the smiling photo of Mobius on his jetski. “A lovely idea,” Loki says, and offers a small grin. “I believe I was promised a trip to the ocean as recompense for surrendering dominion over this realm.”

Mobius wide smile returns, and Loki’s grows in victory.

“A man should keep his promises,” Mobius says, and they start making plans.

Two weeks pass, and Mobius's last day at work comes and goes.

“You’ll be sick of me in a week,” Mobius says the first day off, but after a week, and then two after that, Loki cannot get enough of their time together.

During the day, he and Loki talk and go for walks and watch the soap operas Loki pretends to only like ironically but secretly loves.

“Is that Georgina or Regina?” Mobius asks.

Loki, an expert after weeks of indulgence, can easily identify one twin from another. “That’s Georgina. Regina has the beauty mark above her lip.”

During the night (and sometimes during the day too), they lose themselves in each other. Without draining himself at work all day, Mobius has more energy to properly worship his mischievous god, and though Loki will never admit it aloud, they do some worshiping too, of their foolhardy mortal.

Their precious, fragile human.

The longer they are together, the more perfectly matched they seem. And Loki, who has never been in love before, begins to allow himself a moment of soft wonder.

Loki remembers their first touch, the spliced visions of their future, and the way Mobius said, I love you. Again and again, a thousand times in one moment. Loki begins to wish for that... to crave it.

Sometimes they wonder what Mobius saw during the vision. Did Loki say it to him?

They have no idea how to ask without giving themself away.

The night before their trip to California, Mobius and Loki pack clothes into a pair of suitcases. At first they had attempted to share a single suitcase, but quickly deemed that an unwise decision.

“I don’t understand why you need so many clothes,” Mobius said, as his ‘half’ of the suitcase shrank down a considerable margin. “Can’t you just magic your outfit whenever you want?”

“You always wear that same drab suit, despite all the others we procured for you, despite no longer being required to wear it for work,” Loki replied. “Surely that portion of the suitcase is enough for one suit.”

Mobius looked down at the brown suit he currently wore, and though his smile remained, a small line formed between his brow. Loki knew instantly they had pushed too far.

So they cleared their throat and said, “Or perhaps I am doing my best to ensure you spend most of the trip naked.”

Mobius laughed and his brow smoothed out. “Alright, alright. I’ll get another suitcase,” he said, without further prompting.

Now, Mobius carefully folds yet another white shirt as he lowers it down onto the perfectly aligned pile of five exact copies. “I’ve been thinking.”

“A dangerous prospect,” Loki says, tossing a few shirts into their own suitcase. “One that usually ends in anxiety for me.” They say it as a joke. They do not expect Mobius’s quiet in return.

Worried there might still be lingering hurt from the suit remark, Loki shifts all attention to Mobius, and finds him a tangle of tension and uncertainty.

“Mobius?”

“Maybe it’s not a good idea.” He unfolds and refolds the same shirt. Twice. “Forget I said anything.”

Loki reaches out, takes the shirt from Mobius hands, and lowers it. Then they take Mobius’s hands and turn him toward them. When Mobius’s gaze drifts off toward the kitchen, Loki laces their fingers together and squeezes his hands gently.

“Good or not, I should hear your idea,” Loki says. “I enjoy knowing all of your thoughts.”

Mobius shifts his glance briefly to the photo of his parents on the dresser. “Even if it’s something that might cause you anxiety?”

Loki traces their thumb over Mobius’s. “I believe not knowing would be substantially worse.”

Finally, Mobius looks at them. “Yeah, okay.” He presses his lips hard together as he studies Loki’s face.

The longer the silence lasts, the more worry coils around Loki’s chest until they feels as if they might explode just from anticipation of -

“I think we should invite your family to our vacation.”

Loki blinks. Waits for the punchline.

For surely Mobius is jesting.

Instead, Mobius winces. “Now that’s a look.”

“You... aren’t jesting.” Loki tries to imagine Odin standing on a sandy Californian beach, but the image is so outrageous, their mind cannot conjure it.

“Look, I know it’s a bad idea. And we can go ahead and never talk about it after this, but...” He glances again at the photo of his parents, and the heartbroken look returns to his eyes. “Too few visits.”

Only one picture.

There are no pictures of Loki’s family. Mobius offered to print a fuzzy photo of Thor from the internet but Loki refused.

“I’m not saying we invite your dad, I know that’s...” Mobius gives Loki’s hands a gentle, supportive squeeze. “But what about Thor? I promised him a jetski ride.” A pause, then softer, “What about your mom?”

Loki can imagine Thor acting a buffoon on a sandy beach - building a sand-Asgard (or attempting to - Loki’s would be infinitely better), racing Mobius on jetskis, swimming out too far and having to use Mjolnir to fly back to safety.

Oddly, Loki can also imagine Frigga, perched on a lounge chair under an umbrella, flipping through pages of a book. She would be the judge of their theoretical sand-Asgard competition and would undoubtedly deem them equal, regardless of actual merit.

“There’s that smile,” Mobius says, drawing Loki back to the now, away from the beach and to their small apartment in Dubuque. “Maybe not such a bad idea after all?”

Hope burns hot in Loki’s chest, even as they say, “They’d never agree, even if we could find a way to invite them.”

“I don’t believe that,” Mobius says, and his confidence further brightens Loki’s hope. He tilts his head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d never complain about having you all to myself.” He surely aims for a smile, and he gets one. “But... would it be okay if we tried?”

They’ll say no, Loki knows. They’ll never show. But blind hope has them nod their head, just once.

“Great.” Mobius lifts one of Loki’s hands and kisses the back of it. Then he releases them both and steps into the middle of the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks.

Mobius winks, then lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “Um, hi?” He furrows his brow and glances at Loki. “What was his name again? The guy who’s always watching? Helmdell?”

“Heimdall,” Loki says, “But I’m not sure he’ll appreciate playing messenger for such a silly request.”

“Come on,” Mobius says. “Guy is probably up there all day dealing with huge crises. He might appreciate something lighter for a change. Plus, if anything goes wrong, we can just blame the ignorant human.” He points his thumb to himself.

That this silly human man is so casually willing to bother a god with a party invitation has Loki want to hide their own face in embarrassment and also cover Mobius’s in kisses.

What an impossible fool.

“Mister Heimdall, sir?” Mobius says to the ceiling. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you're busy. But if you could please let Loki’s mom and brother know that they are invited to come to our vacation in Malibu tomorrow? For a week? If they want to? I’d appreciate it. Uh, thank you.” He lowers his head, frowns, and lifts it again. “You can come too.”

“Mobius,” Loki hisses.

“He can come,” Mobius tells them as he returns to their side. In a whisper, he says, “We can’t be rude.”

Only the most extreme level of willpower keeps Loki from rolling their eyes. “If you were worried about rudeness, you should have invited my... the All-Father.”

Mobius’s smile slips. “No.”

It’s such a sudden turnabout that Loki’s brain goes quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry, Loki. If you want him there, of course, we can invite him, but listening to you talk about him. Even right now, did you hear yourself? You called him ‘All-Father,’ not Dad or Pops or even Odin. So formal. And look at you.” He grabs Loki by the elbows and jostles them a bit, and Loki realizes how tense they’ve been. “Coiled up like a spring about to pop. If this is what just mentioning him does to you, I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.”

Loki loosens as Mobius trails his hands to their shoulders.

“He may be displeased at not being invited,” Loki says.

“We’ll deal with that rainbow bridge when we cross it.”

Mobius rubs Loki’s shoulders, and Loki closes their eyes, putty in his hands.

“You cause infinite trouble for me, soulmate,” Loki says.

Mobius chuckles. “Yeah, but you like trouble. Keeps things interesting.” Mobius’s fingers dig into tight muscle, and Loki lets out a soft, relaxed sigh. “That’s why Regina’s your favorite.”

Loki’s eyes snap open. “She is not.”

“She’s the mischief-maker.”

“No, I assure you, she is far from my favorite. Her plans are so poorly executed that even Claudio, besotted as he constantly is over Georgina, catches wise of her almost instantly. She insults the name of mischief.”

“Maybe. But they wouldn’t have a show without her. She’s the only one who does anything.”

“No, you simply have not watched enough episodes...” Loki stops themself short and stands suddenly taller. “I know what you're doing.”

“Oh?”

“You are attempting to distract me.”

Mobius hums, and his little smile turns 100% smug. “It worked too, didn’t it?”

It did, and Loki is both infuriated and endeared at once. “How do you do this to me?”

Mobius shrugs. “You’re pretty easy to rile up.”

“That’s not what I mean, I -” They stop themself again, realizing they were about to admit to... feelings. Dangerous feelings. They swallow down the words they want to say, and say instead, “You infuriate me, Mobius.”

“Yeah,” Mobius says, “But you like that too.”

Loki does. All powers in the cosmos help them, they absolutely do.

They are as besotted with Mobius as Claudio is with Georgina. No, more so.

Mobius is so earnest and good and kind, and cares so much about Loki and Loki’s happiness, that even though Loki is annoyed, they still lean forward and kiss Mobius quick on the mouth.

Mobius closes his eyes for the kiss, then takes his time opening them again. He looks at Loki like they’re the brightest star in the sky, and Loki, chest swollen with an unfamiliar emotion that washes away all annoyance, even the faked kind, pulls Mobius into their arms and kisses him again, more properly.

Overwhelmed with warmth, Loki swoops Mobius up into their arms, mouth pressed against Mobius’s laugh, and carries him to the bed.

In the end, both suitcases end up on the floor, overturned, contents spread out all over, Mobius’s many shirts no longer perfectly folded. The one he was wearing will need some serious mending, buttons all ripped off. The pants are too torn to be salvageable.

Mobius holds Loki close and places soft kiss after soft kiss along their hairline. The space between one and the next lengthens until eventually they stop altogether.

With Mobius’s breath slow and steady in sleep, Loki leans to Mobius’s ear and whispers, “I think that I... I love you.”

“They aren’t going to come,” Loki says in the taxi cab to the airport.

“They surely have other matters to attend to,” Loki says at 30,000 feet.

“I cannot imagine them meeting us,” Loki says on the Californian tarmac, even as they do imagine it - the four of them with multi-color drinks topped with sliced fruit, curly straws, and tiny umbrellas.

Mobius has not released their hand the entire voyage. “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger than two gods vacationing with their delinquent adopted relative?”

“Sure,” Mobius says with a shrug. “You hear the one about the gorgeous god who found their soulmate in a folksy dope of a human?”

A small measure of Loki’s anxiety melts away. “You are referring to when the realm’s bravest human opened their heart to a broken god?”

“Not broken,” Mobius says, suddenly serious. “Never broken.”

“Mobius,” Loki starts, but in a flash, Mobius easy smile returns.

“Come on. Let’s hit the beach.”

Loki bounces their leg the entire taxi drive to their beach-front hotel. Their suite is large, upgraded last minute at surely no small expense, to a set of three rooms, just in case Thor and Frigga decided to arrive. They change into swim trunks and descend the staircase off their balcony down to the sand. The hotel arranged a series of lounge chairs and umbrellas that Loki is eager to claim, but Mobius pulls them down to the water first.

“We’ve been in Iowa too long. We have to at least touch the ocean.”

Loki accommodates him enough to step into the water, ankle-deep. Mobius splashes in all the way. He dips below the surface, then reappears, drawing closer, soaking wet.

“Do not even think of -” Loki says, knowing what’s coming. Mobius allots them plenty of time to move if they wish, but they do not. Though they do groan in dismay as Mobius wraps them in a damp hug.

“Kiss me,” Mobius says, bright as the sunshine and laughing. “I taste like the ocean.”

Loki does not bother to stop their rolling eyes, even as they indulge him with a kiss. Hm, he does taste a bit salty. But it’s still Mobius underneath.

“Perhaps you are part fish,” Loki offers, teasing.

Mobius’s eyes light up. “Do you think mermaids are real? Mermen?”

Loki, watching Mobius’s youthful glee, has no desire to quash his joy, even slightly. “Perhaps?”

“Oh, man. How great would that be?” Mobius says and releasing Loki, flops back into the water.

Loki can’t help their smile. And they don’t want to either. Mobius makes them feel young again too, full of hope and possibilities. Like they could accomplish anything.

Like defying death.

Their smile slips, but they struggle to hold onto it, not wanting to ruin Mobius’s fun.

But even this trip carries the weight of Mobius’s unsaid wish, I want you to have something to remember me by.

“We will remember together,” Loki says under his breath, as Mobius jumps into a wave.

Then, like a boom of thunder across the beach, roars a voice, “Brother!”

Loki turns to see Thor in bright-colored shorts and a too-small white tank top walking toward him. Large sunglasses hide his eyes, and a swipe of white sunscreen streaks his nose, but his wide smile leaves no argument to his expression. And beside him...

Frigga wears a long, floral sundress and a wide-brimmed hat. Where Thor barrels forward, oaf-like, she moves like the water itself, each step on the sand fluid and careful.

Reality flashes through Loki, stealing his breath. When last she saw them, they were... not...

They have no idea what their relationship could be now.

This was a mistake.

Loki has to run.

They look at the water, but Mobius is too far out.

For Loki to run, they would have to leave Mobius.

Indecision roots them. To stay or to go.

But no, Frigga would not wear a sundress if she had meant only to renounce them. She would not dress as though she intends to stay.

And Mobius...

Loki steels their resolve. How tightly had Mobius held Loki after they fought about his job and he thought Loki gone forever? How many whispered promises had he made since then, of their staying together?

No. Mobius would not leave them.

Loki will not abandon him either.

Thor reaches them first. “Good to see you again, Loki. Heimdall sends his regards, and his regrets. He could not get away.”

“Oh... uh, of course.”

“Where’s... oh!” Thor looks out at the water. “Mobius! My brother! Stay there, I will join you!” Then he trudges into the water, each step a large splash.

In his place, stands Frigga. Loki stands tall, bracing themself for perhaps-deserved condemnation.

But then their mother lifts a hand and places it softly to their cheek.

“My beautiful child,” she says, and it is enough. It is everything.

Loki falls into open arms, feeling much like a youth again, safe and protected in their mother’s embrace.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she says as she cards her fingers through their hair. “It was a most pleasant and unexpected surprise.”

“It was Mobius’s idea,” Loki admits.

“Your soulmate knows your heart well,” she says, kindness warm in her voice. “It brings this mother peace to see her child so happy. Especially after such a long period of distress.”

Loki closes their eyes and bites back their bubbling emotion. To have their pain acknowledge is almost too much. As to, is having the reaffirmation that they are her child, even now, even after everything.

Loki realizes too late that they are still wet from Mobius’s hug, and pulls away sharply. But Frigga keeps her arms on their shoulders, her smile ever-soft, ever-patient. She holds no harm for them, only kindness. Only joy.

Mobius approaches slowly, kicking gently through the water, creating only minimal disturbance to the water’s surface.

He looks first to Loki, as if studying their face. Loki knows he is searching for distress, that Mobius will rise to their defense with nary a moment’s notice. But he mustn’t see that, because a smile breaks wide on his face as he turns it toward Frigga.

He holds out his hand, dripping wet with saltwater. Frigga glances at his hand, then ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too.

“Thank you,” she says, voice nearly lost among the shift of the waves and the loud beating of Loki’s own heart.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Mobius’s voice is much stronger. “You’re always welcome to... oh.”

She says something else, something Loki cannot hear, something that makes Mobius’s smile soften and his eyes search out Loki’s over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, either,” Mobius says. “Loving them is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Loki’s whole world goes very still.

The sun shines. The waves continue to pound the sand. Somewhere, Thor calls out for them to join him. Mobius looks away from them, back to Frigga.

Loki just stands there, a single word, echoing loud in their head.

Mobius’s voice. Mobius’s word.

Love.

#oops i'm going to need a chapter 6 after all! sorry about that! i guess there was more to write than i initially thought haha #lokius #loki x mobius #wowki #i wrote this #soulmate au #part 5 of 6 #love confessions #death talk cw #fade to black #alcohol cw #family drama cw #self worth issues cw #self hatred cw #long post cw in case you open it on dash #ao3 link tomorrow

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years ago

Text

Poe Dameron x Female Reader (Armitage Hux too if you squint.)

A/N: I actually set this in my Somewhere in the Dark, Your Light Finds Me fic. You don’t have to read it to know what’s going on I do try and cover the basics so it all makes sense. On the other hand if you did want to read the fic this is full of spoilers 😅 Writer Wednesday (I bet you always look forward to my sadness….) @clydesducktape @autumnleaves1991-blog

Warnings: Possible gaslighting, mentions of infidelity, Poe is a bit of an ass. Mention of baby/pregnancy loss, mention of PTSD, arguments, alcohol mention, broken down engagement. Oh yeah it’s all sadness up in this house.

Word Count: 4276

You stared at your computer screen, the words and numbers all blurring together. Your heart was heavy, still ringing with the hurtful words from your fiancé yesterday. You hated fighting with him, you were due to get married next week but right now that was all up in the air. He had been so angry, his words like poison as he dripped them all over you. You’d seen Poe’s temper before, you’d experienced his hurtful words when he was having his PTSD moments but nothing could have prepared you for the last few months. The constant nit-picking at everything you did, trying to trip you up in a non-existent lie. This year has been awful for both of you, in fact it has been a rollercoaster since you’d met but you had hoped, together, you’d battle the darkness that threatened to cloud your relationship. Only he seemed to be feeding it now and you didn’t know what to do. There were only so many times you could tell him you weren’t cheating on him, you weren’t having an affair with your boss. You ran a hand over your forehead, didn’t they say the one doing the accusing was usually the one doing the thing they were accusing you of?

“Are you ready for some lunch before you run off and get married?” You looked up to see your boss standing next to your desk, his hand was fiddling with his cuff as he looked at you with those green eyes. His red hair was placed perfectly as always, ever looking the part as the owner of a profitable business.

“Right, lunch,” you mumbled and he smiled slightly.

“I can’t let my best accountant go without a decent lunch.”

“Is it Friday?” You asked and his gaze flickered over you quickly, the smile faltering as he saw how exhausted you were.

“Yeah it’s Friday. You were supposed to finish half an hour ago. I thought I’d missed you.”

“Oh right,” you mumbled again, going through the motions and switching off your pc. You flinched slightly when his hand brushed your elbow, your fiancé’s words suddenly loud and accusing in your mind. Armitage walked you to the lift in silence, the handles of your bag felt heavy in your hands even though there was barely anything in it. The ride was a couple of minutes long, the silence almost deafening as your boss clearly couldn’t think of anything to say and you were too trapped in your thoughts to even make a sentence let alone conversation. When the doors opened the noise of the foyer almost deafened you, Armitage let you out first and suddenly you felt like everyone was staring at you. All the chatter became whispers, accusations, rumours and you wanted to run and hide, your heart fluttering with anxiety. The sound of your name made you start slightly only to find Armitage staring at you now with real concern.

“Is this wedding jitters, or something more?” You felt frustrated with yourself which made the increasing pressure behind your eyes worse.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered.

“Ok let’s skip lunch, there is a little van by the river where we can grab a hot chocolate and have a chat.”

“Yeah ok that sounds good,” you felt yourself relaxing already. The idea of someone seeing you out for lunch with your boss was much harder to explain away than a simple drink by the river. Because you had to think about these things, what with Poe now driving himself crazy you were having an affair and you just wanted to prove you weren’t. Because you weren’t. The street your building was on was just a short walk from the river, and took you both less than a couple of minutes. Trees lined the street all rich in orange, red and gold, their leaves littered the pavement like discarded jewels. Nature had put on her autumn coat and it showed in such wondrous glory. There was a slight nip in the air but it wasn’t constant enough to warrant a coat, not this late in the day.

You leaned on the railing looking down into the water as Armitage ordered the drinks, already you felt better being out here, the smell of the water carried on the breeze and the freshness that came with the river compared to the rest of the city already blowing the cobwebs from your mind.

“Here,” you took the cup he offered you with a quiet thanks, the heat of the hot chocolate bleeding through the sleeve and you rested it on the railing. You pointed at the marshmallows floating on the surface and shot him a quizzical look. He shrugged, that telltale blush creeping over his cheeks as he leaned next to you. “You looked like you needed cheering up.”

“Well thanks,” you bumped his shoulder and he bumped you softly back.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” You sighed loudly, trying to expel all the bad feelings you had tumbling inside you but it didn’t work, nothing would.

“Poe thinks I’m having an affair.” There. You said it. Now it was real, taking shape out of your body. Your fiancé had been accusing you for months, but last night it had really blown up all because you worked late trying to tie everything up for leaving early today.

“What?” Asked Hux angrily. “What gives him that idea?”

“Well he’s been accusing me for months,” you swallowed some hot chocolate, hoping it would ease the emotions that were forcing their way out of you, but it didn’t. “I stayed late last night to try and finish up, you know because I’m the best…” you tried to joke but the sound of your voice made it fall flat. “Anyway, when I got home he started immediately, demanding to know where I’d been, accusing me of all sorts he just wouldn’t drop it no matter what I said and then….” You looked up at the sky desperately trying to stop the tears from falling but they did anyway, big fat ones rolling down your cheeks. “And then he left,” you said thickly. “And I haven’t heard from him since.” Armitage sighed loudly looking down at his hot chocolate.

“So he thinks you’re having an affair with someone from work? How daft is he?” He shifted next to you, turning so his back was to the river and he looked up and down the street trying to figure out what to say next. “I’m so sorry, why didn't you say something? I’d have shortened your hours or I don’t know….helped?” He offered but you shook your head.

“That wouldn’t have helped Armitage,” you replied softly, dabbing at your eyes and sniffing loudly.

“Who does he think you’re having an affair with anyway? All you do is sit at your desk, crunch some numbers, write a report and go home,” he gestured with the hand holding his hot chocolate and you tilted your head to look up at him letting out a quick bark of laughter.

“Armie, if my job was that easy I wouldn’t be having problems, anyway…”

“But what gave him the impression you’re having an affair?” He asked angrily before holding up his hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prying but this has got my back up, I see how hard you work all the time you love your job.”

“I do,” you whispered.

“Why…I don’t understand?” You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth debating whether to tell him but it burned in your mouth and you wanted to see how he would react, you supposed.

“It’s you, Armitage. He thinks I’m having an affair with you.” Hux froze, his hot chocolate halfway to his mouth before he made an expression of disbelief and lowered it again.

“Me?” He turned to face you, a finger pointing into his chest. “I’m sorry, me? Poe Dameron…curly haired, finely chiselled jawline, god amongst men, Poe Dameron thinks you would choose me over him?” He leaned back against the railing, a smile playing around his mouth. “Oh yeah he really has lost the plot,” he chuckled to himself. He took a sip from his cup as you both stood there letting the news sink in, filling the cracks of the silence you both found yourself in. “But you’re getting married.” He stated, almost in quiet disappointment.

“I’m supposed to be, but how can I, if I don’t even know where he is, who he’s with.” Hux looked down at you as you leaned over the railing looking at your reflection, rippling in the water.

“He wouldn’t…” Hux started but you snorted in disbelief, cutting him off.

“He might. We’re all capable of it aren’t we?” You mused. Hux’s arm jostled you slightly as he leaned in next to you, his bright red hair almost glowing in his reflection. You turned to look at him, he was so close and you found yourself recklessly wondering what would happen if you kissed him, here, now. You’d been accused of it enough, so why not put some weight behind those accusations? For all you knew your fiancé was out doing god knows who right now….so why not right?

Hux turned to say something else but you found yourself tipping forward just at the right time and your lips met his in a surprise kiss. A kiss that neither of you pulled away from straight away. Hux backed up a step, his eyes wide with surprise and you instantly felt the flush of guilt roil through your gut.

“Oh god. Armitage I’m so sorry!” You stumbled over your own feet, clutching the railing to steady yourself. “I should go home. I need to go home.” You turned, throwing away your half empty cup into the bin and striding away before Hux could say anything to stop you.

When you opened the door to your flat you were surprised to see Poe standing in the kitchen. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, his thumb gripped between his teeth with worry and his eyes were wide when he looked up, raking over you quickly. You softly shut the door, so many questions were filling your mind you didn’t know where to start. You dumped your bag and keys on the side, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“Bit early for that, isn't it?” He asked darkly. You ignored him and opened the bottle, not even bothering to get a glass. “Where have you been?” He asked.

“Work.”

“But you had a short day today?” So it begins… You turned and pointed at him, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“I’ve got a better question. Where have you been?”

“I stayed on Finn and Zorii’s sofa.” You nodded, taking a long swig from the bottle letting the lie settle before you tackled it.

“Mmm, do you want to rethink that answer or are you sticking with that story?” You saw his expression change at the not so veiled accusation.

“Damn it, why don’t you believe me?” He glowered.

“Like you believe me?” You shot at him. “When I stand here baring everything to you screaming at you that I’m not having an affair and still, still, you don’t believe me.” You felt the tears again and you bit down on your lip. “We’re supposed to be getting married in about 5 days. But right now you’re the last man I’d want to marry.” Poe rolled his eyes to the ceiling and you smirked, it always went like this. Now you were the emotional one, the dramatic one, the one who lost her head and made the argument more than it should be.

“You’re so dramatic…”

“Am I? Am I though?” He watched you with distaste as you took another gulp of wine. “Just so you know I rang Zorii last night, now either you tiptoed in when they were asleep or you’re fucking lying to me.” Poe shifted uneasily against the counter and you just knew. “You might want to start talking, flyboy.” He shrugged and for a moment you felt a blazing white hot anger course through you. Without waiting for an explanation you were never going to get you marched into the bedroom, slamming the bottle down on your bedside table and dragging out the suitcase from under the bed.

“What are you doing?” He asked heavily.

“Well I’m just deciding if it should be my stuff that goes in here, or yours.” His face twisted as his own anger boiled to the surface.

“Why don’t you fill it with your shit and then you can scurry off to Armitage!” He shouted.

“Maybe I’ll fucking do that!” You shouted back, throwing up your arms.

“I knew it!” He snarled, stepping forward and pointing at you. “I knew it, I was right you’re having an affair with him…”

“For fucks sake Poe I am NOT!”

“You pretty much just said it! So come on! When did it happen? Months ago? Maybe when you started the new job? Come on, I want details!” You ignored his ranting, gritting your teeth as you filled the suitcase with your own stuff. “Oh my god you’re actually going? I’m sure he’ll be so happy to fucking see you.”

“Oh god enough!!” You screamed, dropping more clothes into the suitcase. “You really want the details?” You asked. “You really want to know what’s been going on?”

“You know I do baby,” he sneered sarcastically. “I love it when you prove me right.” You took a quick breath, trying to steady yourself and not fall apart right now. Not yet.

“Nothing has been happening, he is my boss…”

“You’re such a lying bitch…”

“I’m not, I'm not lying!! But…” you choked off mid shout. You had to tell him, didn't you?

“Well, I’m waiting.” He rested against the door frame, his posture full of arrogance and anger as he waited for you to finish what you were saying.

“Today, we had hot chocolate by the river,” tears filled your eyes as the guilt reared up inside you. “I kissed him,” you sobbed. “It was just a peck but honestly you’ve been accusing me of worse for months and months and I thought, why the fuck not? He didn’t even see it coming, it was all me.” You looked up to see he hadn’t moved and more hot tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you see how these accusations are hurting me?? You’re forcing me away and I don’t want to love anyone else Poe! But you make it so hard…it-it feels like we don’t fit together anymore.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He said calmly.

“What?” You whispered.

“You’re right, we don’t fit together anymore.”

“Poe…?”

“I just feel like we’re going through the motions, we’ve been through too much, it’s been damaging for us, maybe it’s time to give up.”

“I-I don’t understand?” You whispered suddenly feeling slightly woozy and you leaned heavily on the dresser. “After everything… the accident, Ben, our-our daughter and this…you asked me not to give up on you! So I didn’t, I kept fighting for us, for this! And this is how you repay me?” You turned to face him. “I gave everything to you. EVERYTHING!” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Confession time?” You nodded, not liking his grim tone and expression. “I wasn’t at Finn’s last night…”

“No shit.” He glared at you before continuing.

“I was with Rey.” Your brain stuttered to a stop. Rey. A laugh erupted from you until you realised what he was saying.

“Oh, you were with Rey…” your hands shook as you carefully sat yourself down on the bed. Rey. She had taken Ben from you a few years ago and now….now she was taking Poe. A sob beat your chest as despair ripped through you, after all the darkness the pair of you had endured, this was how it was ending. You clutched your stomach trying to hold yourself together, everything you’d been holding back came spewing forth, the sobs were loud and fast barely giving you time to breathe.

“I’ve packed a bag already. Look,” he sighed. “I didn’t want it to come out like this.”

“Like this?” You cried. “5 days before our wedding? How long were you going to wait for Poe?” You sniffed and wiped your face. “Were you going to leave me at the altar? Or were you going to wait until we’d consummated the marriage? Or maybe you weren’t going to tell me at all!!” You shrieked.

“I would have told you, before it was too late,” he stated but you’d heard enough.

“Too late??” You stood, pointing frantically as you struggled to get your words free. “Out I want you out!”

“Listen…”

“JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screamed, clawing at your own face in anguish. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” You followed him through the flat, screaming how much you hated him, how much he’d hurt you until he slammed the front door in your face leaving you alone with only the sound of your wailing to keep you company.

You slid down the door, all the strength leaving your body and you slumped there sobbing. Finally your cries dwindled as you watched the sky through the window, seeing how it changed from the crisp blue colour with white cotton like clouds to a rich navy colour, the clouds now gold as the sun set. The need for wine drove you to get up and you hated how familiar this all felt, except when Ben had left you had turned to gin. At least when Ben had left it was more out of the blue, sure it had been hard to come back from but you hadn’t gone through the same earth shattering things with Ben as you had with Poe. But then, some things a couple just can’t come back from, you guessed. You had never stopped believing the fun loving Poe would come back to you after his accident and he did, for a time. But then the pregnancy…

The bedroom suddenly felt so empty and you noticed how certain things of his were missing, like his phone charger and his favourite pair of trainers. You sat back down on the bed, gently teasing open the drawer to reveal the tiny pink hat that had belonged to your 16 week old daughter. Running a finger over it you remembered the heartache as though it was yesterday, you hadn’t been yourself since giving birth and then losing her immediately after. You’d spiralled, quitting your job, staying at home, refusing to see anyone. It was no less than what Poe had done when he was suffering from his PTSD, but one rule for him it seemed and a different one for you. Maybe it was your fault Poe ran off with someone else, but still the bitterness filled your throat and you grimaced at the taste. You had nursed that man, looked after him, got him through one of the toughest moments of his life and he could barely do the same for you. But fucking Rey? You hiccuped slightly trying to laugh but it just came out as another sob, what a joke.

The engagement had been a bandage on a broken limb, now you thought about it. This would never have worked whether Rey had been on the sidelines or not. You slammed the drawer shut, making your way back into the kitchen you picked up your phone seeing the missed calls and messages from Ben and Zorii, Poe had obviously told them what happened. A reckless idea formed in your mind and you raced back into the bedroom, packing your suitcase in earnest as the phone rang loudly in your ear.

“Hello?”

“Armitage, I have a question for you.”

“Is this about earlier, because I really think we should talk about it more…”

“I agree. But hear me out. What if we talk about it on a plane?”

“A…what are you suggesting?”

“I have a holiday coming up…”

“You have a honeymoon you mean.”

“Not anymore.” You toyed with your lip not enjoying the silence from the other end of the phone. “Anyway, I am going on that holiday and I have a spare ticket. I’ll send you the details and you can decide if you want to come or not.”

“Alright….” He sounded hesitant but you didn’t care. He either came and you had a great time together or he didn’t and you had a great time anyway.

“I’m heading to my parents for a few days, but I will be at the airport on Wednesday. Come, or don't, it's up to you.” Putting the phone down you let out a long exhale not believing what you had just done. You just invited your boss to your honeymoon? What on earth were you thinking? God, you were so damn reckless at times! You dialed another number, sitting your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you packed everything you could.

“Mum, don’t freak out but I have some news….”

You got to the airport early, you were always early. The fear of being late was an absolute curse especially when it came to catching planes, trains, busses or basically anything that could leave without you.

You stood in the airport car park enjoying the way the cooler autumn air rushed over you. Soon you’d be replacing it with heat and sun but for now you were going to remember this. It was cleansing in a way, the freshness of it dancing over your skin, the rich rustle of the golden leaves in the crisp breeze. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your fluttering nerves before heading inside.

You tried not to look at your watch, you tried not to scan the crowd every 5 seconds looking for that shock of red hair. You hadn’t contacted him and he hadn't contacted you which was fine. It was fine.

The few days you’d had at your parents had been fraught, your mum cried more than you did as you cancelled as much as you could trying to get a fraction of the money you laid out back into your bank account. Your Dad, he been quiet, stewing over a man he’d accepted into the family had done this to his baby girl….he asked you not to date anymore because his heart couldn’t take the strain. You’d had a conversation with Zorii and Ben, talking them both down from hunting Poe down and ripping his balls from his body, well that's what Zorii said. Ben had been quiet, too quiet and you wondered if he remembered the way he left, with the same woman. You didn’t care, you were going on holiday by yourself it seemed. Ok you did care, you cared so much it threatened to consume you, to rob you of all function as you walked through the airport but you shoved it all aside. You’d deal with it later, that was a problem for future you, post holiday you.

You cast one last look around for that head of ginger hair, disappointment filling your chest and you blinked back whatever was happening with your eyes because you refused to shed more tears here. You handed your ticket over and strode into the plane with your head held high. Settling in your seat you immediately put your headphones in and watched out of the window trying not to think of how different this should be. You should be happy, newlyweds, all excited and flushing with joy. You should be holding hands and performing hideously embarrassing PDAs, you should be giggling and loving life, not slumped here with your face pressed against the window.

The music blared loudly in your ears, you didn’t notice when someone took the seat next to you, too lost in your pit of despair you barely managed to wipe your face dry. Something tapped on your arm and you ignored it wishing whoever it was would get the message and piss off. It happened again and you sat up ready to spew some horrible words but they all choked and died in your throat when your gaze locked with his pale green eyes. A soft smile rested easily on his face but it slipped when he saw your distraught expression, you pulled the headphones off not even daring to believe he came.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Oh…hi.” He reached out and swiped a thumb under your eye, catching the fresh tears that welled up and trickled down your cheek.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted to be here earlier but…work.” You gasped through a sob and nodded.

“It’s ok.” You pressed the heels of your hands firmly into your eyes creating those white splodges all over your vision as you fought so hard to bring yourself back from the edge of that black pit that called your name all the time. “I’m ok,” you sobbed. Armitage snaked an arm around you and pulled you into his shoulder.

“Listen, we are going to enjoy this holiday, we are going to have a great time and drink and eat, we are going to go to the beach and you are going to sunbathe while I hide in the shade,” you chuckled though another sob. “So good times only, until we get back and have to face the music of reality. Deal?” His finger and thumb gripped your chin lightly making you look up at him and you managed a watery smile.

“Deal.”

#Poe dameron x female reader #armitage hux #somewhere in the dark your light finds me #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess #modern au #writer wednesday #Poe dameron #Poe dameron x reader #Poe dameron x you #cw: infidelity #cw: baby loss #cw: pregnancy loss #cw: broken engagement

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wlwemilyprentiss · 4 years ago

Text

promise

ship: drug dealer!spencer reid x gender neutral reader word count: 1.8k summary: your boyfriend’s drug habits are starting to worry you. warnings: implied/referenced drug abuse and dealing notes: the plug!spencer au belongs to @jemilys / @subspencer !! thank u for letting me use this idea 🥺��

read it on ao3!

I had never loved anyone in the way that I loved Spencer. I had only been in a few relationships, none of them serious, but I knew that what Spencer and I had was different. It was real and it was tangible. It was tangible in the way he kissed me, how he held my face like I was made of glass. It was in the way he looked at me, his big brown eyes wide and his smile glowing. It was in the sweaters he leant me, that still smelled like weed and cologne. Usually I might have been grossed out by the smell, but it was so very him.

If you had told me three years ago that I’d be dating a drug dealer, I probably would have laughed at you. I was so…good. That was the only way to describe it. I smoked, yeah, but rarely. I didn’t involve myself with people who did a lot of drugs. I didn’t have anything against them, it was just never my thing.

I met Spencer through a friend. I remembered the way he had looked at me when I walked into his apartment. Like I was a godsend. My friend was dating one of his friends, so she had dragged me over to his place to hang out with them. It inevitably ended in her having sex in the next room while I awkwardly sat in the living room with Spencer, a man I had known for approximately ten minutes.

We could hear the clear noises of a bed frame hanging against the wall. We both glanced towards the room and I found myself trying to repress a laugh. Before I knew it, we were both falling into bursts of giggles. Once it died down, he looked down at his blunt and offered it to me.

“Do you, uh, do you smoke?” He asked. “It’s okay if not, I mean, obviously I won’t make you.”

“Sometimes,” I replied. “Not…Not a whole lot, but I have before, yeah.”

“Well, it would be rude of me not to offer to share,” he said with a lopsided grin. “After all, listening to your best friends have sex is quite a bonding experience.”

We’d been together for almost a year and a half now. Spencer was something special. He was kind and gentle and goofy and he loved me. I loved him just as much.

I loved him, but sometimes he scared me. Not with the way he acted towards me—oh, no, never. He was the furthest thing from scary I could think of. He never yelled or got angry. What scared me was his habits. I didn’t have any issues with him smoking weed, but the other things, the coke and xanax and the heroin, those fucking terrified me. The amount of times I had wiped blood from his nose after he did a line or held him as he came down was more than any girlfriend should have to do. It was hard.

All this time I had known Spencer, he had always been using and selling drugs. How could I ever ask him to change everything about his life just for my sake? Asking him to detox would be asking him to cut off all of his friends, quit his job, stop doing pretty much everything that he had been doing for years.

It had been bothering me a lot lately, and I was pretty sure that Spencer knew something was up. I didn’t think he knew what exactly, but he would have to be an idiot not to notice the way I had been acting lately. I really didn’t mean to be different towards him, it was just happening. I usually spent almost all of my time at his apartment, but for the past few days I had only been over there a few times, never for longer than an hour or two. I knew that it wasn’t fair to be doing this to him, but nowadays just looking at him hurt.

I was in a dilemma. I couldn’t keep watching him hurt himself like this. I couldn’t spend every waking moment terrified that he would overdose and no one would be there. I could never ever leave him, I loved him too much for that. But I couldn’t ask him to uproot his life for my sake, a girl who he hadn’t even been with for two years.

Well, the time part didn’t matter so much to me. Just because we hadn’t been together for several years didn’t mean that we weren’t serious. We moved quickly in our relationship--we had said the “L-word” quickly and we basically lived together. But I didn’t know what he would say if I brought it up to him. Would he get angry? Offended? Upset? Would he leave me?

These were the questions that had been plaguing me for going on two weeks now.

I was lying on my couch, watching TV and trying to keep my mind off of the situation. My phone suddenly vibrated, and I grabbed it quickly without even looking at the caller ID. I was constantly worrying that any call that came in would be the one from the hospital or one of his friends, telling me that they found him in his bathroom after--

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

Thank fuck.

“Oh, uh, hi Spence.” I inwardly winced at my tone. Could I be any more obvious that I was scared to see him?

Not scared to see him because of anything he would do. I was scared to see him because I was terrified of my own feelings. I didn’t want to see him, have him high, and make myself spiral into an even deeper hole of anxiety.

I didn’t want to fall even more in love with him when he was testing his own physical limits, when I didn’t feel like he was permanent.

I could hear his hesitation. My heart broke a little bit more. I was being unfair to him by closing myself off. I wasn’t just hurting myself, I was hurting him. I hoped he knew that I loved him and would never leave him, but if I were him the thoughts that I’d be thinking wouldn’t be of love and loyalty.

“I’m outside,” he said, clearly trying to smile. “Come here!”

“Okay, one second.” I hung up and placed my phone aside. I bit my lip and got off my couch, walking over to my door. When I opened it, I found Spencer standing there, a lopsided grin on his face. To my relief, he looked perfectly fine. Well, as fine as he usually did. He didn’t look any more high than usual.

“Hi,” I said, a smile creeping its way to my features. He stepped in and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me up with ease as I wrapped my legs around his torso. Usually I would laugh and kiss him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to put me down, either. I just let him carry me to my bedroom and place me on the mattress.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, crawling on top of me. I forced a smile which I hoped looked genuine as he pressed his lips to mine. I awkwardly placed my hands on his face, forcing all of the motions that usually came to me as second nature. For once, I had to think about the things I did with Spencer. I knew that if I didn’t want to touch him he would never make me, so why wasn’t I pulling away? Why was I so fucking scared of hurting his feelings, when I knew he always put me above everyone else?

I could feel my chest tightening, but I once again made myself ignore it. It wasn’t until he was pulling off his sweatshirt and leaning back over me that I broke. I caught a quick glance of his arms. There were dark bruises on his forearms, track marks that littered his pale skin. I knew he wasn’t actively high -- this was not Spencer high on heroin, I had seen that before -- but the marks seemed fairly fresh.

Before he could lean down to kiss me again, I was inhaling sharply and letting the dam that had been cracking for weeks finally break. He stopped immediately and his eyes widened, looking at me with a mixture of worry and confusion. I covered my face and sobbed, my chest heaving with every shaky breath.

“Shit,” he swore under his breath, still straddling my hips. “What’s wrong, baby? Hey, look at me, it’s okay…I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you didn’t want--”

I let him take my hands and move them from my face. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face against him, sobbing openly. He hushed me as he moved beside me, maneuvering us so we were both laying on our sides facing each other. I kept my face nuzzled against his chest as he rubbed my back, letting me cry it out.

Finally, I managed to steady out my breathing and the tears began to dry.

“You need to tell me what’s wrong, princess,” he whispered. His words weren’t insistent or rude, he wasn’t trying to force me into anything I was unsure of, just calm and full of love and concern. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’ve barely seen you lately, and now I come over and you can barely touch me…if you want to break up, I--”

“No, no,” I said quickly, looking up at him. “No, Spence, I don’t want to break up, I just…”

“Please tell me.” He cupped my face gently, wiping a stray tear off of my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. He was so tender with me, his eyes full of nothing but adoration. “Let me help you.”

“I’m so scared,” I blurted out. He frowned as he tucked my hair behind my ears, listening to me speak. “I could never ever ask you to change your life for me, Spencer, but I’m so fucking scared all the time. I know you don’t see it but I have to sit and watch you hurt yourself, I’m the one that has to sit at home and hope to god you’re not overdosing in some bathroom somewhere all by yourself where no one would find you in time. I know it’s not fair, we haven’t been together for all that long but I’m so in love with you and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you--”

“Hey, shh,” he whispered. When I forced myself to look at him, I saw that he looked fucking heartbroken. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t want to make you change your whole-whole life for me…”

“You aren’t making me do anything,” he said softly. “Look at me, (Y/N). I don’t care if we haven’t been together for years. I love you. I want you in my life. I want a future with you. I know it’ll be hard, but I’m willing to do it for you. I want you to feel safe with me. I don’t want you worrying over me like this, it’s killing you. It’s killing both of us.”

“R-Really?”

“Really.” He pressed his forehead against mine. I could tell that, even with the brave facade he was putting on, he was scared. I placed my hand over his, giving him all the reassurance he needed to let himself go. “You’ll stay with me, right? Through...withdrawals and stuff? They’ll be bad, I’ve seen people go through them before.”

“Of course I will.” I pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll always stay with you.”

“Even if I relapse?”

“Of course.”

“...You promise?”

“I promise.”

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #my writing

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kylescheiblehateclub · 3 years ago

Text

Big Jet Plane

by: kjllingmoon (me, hi) || my twitter

chapters: 1/1 || words: 2.6k || rating: general audiences

summary:

It was a bad idea.

Still, it couldn't hurt to help.

----

In which Kojiro takes a beat-up Kaoru home after his little escapade from the hospital.

This was a bad idea.

It was one thing to let Kaoru stay in the restaurant despite sneaking out of the hospital with a broken leg (which, by the way, how the hell did he manage to get to Luce by himself?), but this was in another league of its own. He could already hear the slew of insults coming his way. You dopey gorilla, what if you dropped me? Why would you let me fall asleep without knowing if I have a concussion? I see your interior decor hasn’t gotten much better since last time.

He could stand it and not fight back, if just for one night. Frankly, he felt comfort when seeing Kaoru at the restaurant. It meant the accident wasn’t too bad, at least physically. And there was the sense of superiority that came with knowing he chose his restaurant, of all places. Superiority at knowing he was Kaoru’s priority, and comfort at knowing Kaoru still cared for him. Despite everything—the years of arguing, being split up during their respective years of higher education—there was still care. Which is more than what he could ever feel towards that other asshole.

It wasn’t like he’d verbalize how he felt on the ride to the emergency room. Hours had passed and he still couldn’t figure out if he had been shaking from the worry towards his friend, or hatred towards the man they once thought they knew. All that was certain was the regret he felt upon not beating Aino—Adam to a pulp right then and there, for everyone to see.

Ainosuke, Adam. The same rotten person at the core.

That violent nature wasn’t like Kojiro, it wasn’t expected of him. Which only angered him further. How was it that he and Kaoru let it get this far? S had begun as a way of self-expression, and it snowballed into a free-for-all that sometimes made him sick to his stomach. The notoriety got to his head, despite the promise he’d made to himself years ago. It was a tricky situation, one he didn’t like thinking about yet still kept him up at night.

Kojiro sighed in relief as his house came into a clearer view (giving him a break from his thoughts), surprised Kaoru slept through the ride. The pain meds must have kicked in…. He fished his keys from the pocket of his jeans and unlocked his front door, turning a light on before carefully pushing Kaoru inside. The door was promptly closed and locked, followed by his shoes being removed and all the shit in his pockets being moved to the bowl next to the door.

Once again, he found himself debating his options. He knew fully well that he should have dropped him back off at the hospital, it’d been ringing around his head during the whole walk back to his house. How was he supposed to know he’d be okay, though? Surely one night won’t kill him. They’ve gotten into bigger problems and walked away unscathed. Then again, neither of them had gotten swatted at high speed by a fucking piece of wood and metal until that night.

Options, Kojiro.

Perhaps he could start with actually waking Kaoru up and asking if he’s okay. He crouched in front of the wheelchair, nearly eye-to-eye with the man, and carefully shook him by the shoulder. “Oi, Ru. Up and at ‘em, c’mon.”

Silence. He remained still as the other stirred, bright yellow eyes looking around in confusion. Another thing Kojiro would never verbalize was the way his heart picked up as he saw thin eyebrows knit together, chapped lips pursing.

“Kojiro.” Kaoru groaned, removing his glasses. His heart had moved on from picking up to doing backflips. He began scratching at his eyes, and the act made him look younger and even more fucked up at the same time. Amazing. “Why are you staring? Didn’t your mother teach you that’s rude?”

She never said anything about admiring pretty things. “Whaddaya need, kid? Want me to take you to bed, maybe get you some food?”

Both of them looked down at Kaoru’s lap, at the way his free hand fiddled with the temples of his glasses. It felt awkward; like he was actually… embarrassed of whatever was on his mind. Kojiro stood up, figuring he’d be doing him a favor by giving him the time and space to speak. No use in forcing words through a muddled mind. He took a seat on his couch, his back facing Kaoru.

“Back at the hospital, they just…” Kaoru sounded frustrated and like he’d given up despite barely beginning. Kojiro didn’t move. “They only cleaned the affected areas and I knocked out as soon as my head touched the pillow. I feel dirty.”

Ah. Hot springs, showers. Same difference. Kojiro wouldn’t find the courage in either scenario.

“Will you wash my hair?”

A terrible, no good idea, indeed.

And yet, he got up and wheeled him into the bathroom, with not so much as a peep leaving his mouth. It’s the friendly thing to do. It also wasn’t anything new between them; Kojiro saw it as one of the perks of having known him for more than half their lives.

And yet, as he helped Kaoru sit on the toilet seat and turned Carla off to preserve her battery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What a bad idea. Washing his hair, as if they were an old couple, with habits and routines.

Are you implying that friends can’t have routines? Have you seen how the kids act around each other?

“How are you keeping my cast dry?”

The two men looked at each other, playing a mental game of chess. With all the bandages around Kaoru’s face, the cast had become the last of Kojiro’s concerns, but he was right. Without excusing himself, he retreated back to the kitchen, returning shortly after with a trash bag in one hand and an old beach chair in the other. “S’not perfect, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

“You don’t have to do all this, you know.” Kaoru still had that embarrassed inflection to his tone. It was reminiscent of a time when Kojiro had to make up an excuse or other as to why they kept cutting class. “I know I asked you to—”

“And that’s all there is to it.” Kojiro took a step back from his shower, looking at the chair smack in the middle of the tiled floor. It was a ridiculous setup, but it would work, for now. Hopefully. “You’re my friend, Kaoru. You’re asking for a favor.

“Before you even think of it,” he added, now turning to face the other, trying to figure out where to begin the process. Maybe undressing the bruises would be a good start. “I’m not doing this out of pity. I know you wouldn’t let me if that were the case.”

His hands were shaking again. They were chef’s hands, trained for years to be steady and precise. The experience had roughed them up, with various small slices and healed burns around his fingers and palms serving as evidence of his hard work. They were athlete’s hands, being accustomed to heavy lifting and scraping along the concrete on his board. Hands that held pride in his achievements and deceit in the shape of women. Steady, sturdy hands, goldened by the sun and failing him before his very eyes.

He began with the bulk of the bruises—his jaw. While one hand cupped Kaoru’s chin, the other one removed the tape holding the gauze to his skin, being careful to not tug at it too hard. Gnarly purples and reds came into view, the bruise obviously still fresh. Then he moved to the bandages around his neck, then his head. Neither of them dared speak, even when they winced at the sight or the sensitivity.

The anger was resurfacing. One good punch, right in the nose. That’s all he wanted. “Think you can stand?” Kojiro felt too loud in the small room, even though his voice was low. He took a step back and extended his hands, as if to invite Kaoru to try.

The other’s felt soft. He took good care of them, needing them to make a living. They were polished, well cared for, albeit also scarred from his tinkering with his AI materials and his experience skateboarding. They were pale, seeming bright as they held the other’s. Such a contrast.

Both of them took their time in getting Kaoru to his feet. It was a process, trying to balance him to remove his robe and get him in the shower. Kojiro didn’t bother removing the arm brace; that’s a bridge they could cross later. The big plastic bag was wrapped around the leg cast, with both of them hoping the water would stay out. A messy, bad idea.

It only took Kojiro a minute to strip down to his underwear. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his thoughts again; being shirtless at Crazy Rock, being half-naked with the man consuming every waking second of his life for the last few months—what’s the difference, right? He was making himself dizzy, going in circles.

He turned the faucet on, being careful not to wet Kaoru just yet. The detachable shower head was gripped, and he pointed it at the wall, feeling the steady stream until it was at a comfortable temperature. Then he began.

The ends of the long hair were first, going up to his scalp, digging his fingers into it to make sure everything got properly wettened. The faucet turned off, and he squirted shampoo onto his palm, feeling automatic; as if this really had been a habit of theirs for the longest time. Why wasn’t it? Why had his cowardice driven him into this cycle of guilt and heightened expectations— why didn’t those girls suffice him? What made him think he could ever compare to the thrill given to Kaoru when Ainosuke was in the mix?

The sound of a sob pulled him out of his thoughts. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hands back, initially thinking he had hurt Kaoru somehow. Maybe he touched an injured area?

“Ru?”

Another sob, followed by a sniffle. It made his heart drop. “Fuck. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

What? “What? What’s wrong?” He was crouching in front of the other before he could give it a second thought. The sight was… it was something he hadn’t seen in a while. His stomach was churning. “Kaoru. Why’re you saying that?”

“I just—” Kaoru paused, trying to breathe, to calm down. He had snot on his red nose, which Kojiro cleaned without a second thought. “I really thought things would change. I didn’t want— didn’t need to win, but shit— I don’t even love him anymore, I just— I wanted to prove that it could— that we could still be friends. That things could go back to when we were kids.”

Eat your fucking heart out, eh, Kojiro?

“Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. His friend, the man he’d been hopelessly head over heels for, got fucked over by the same person in the span of seven years, and was crying his eyes out, injured, in the shower. It brought upon him a horrible feeling of deja vu, and he couldn’t shake it away.

But he could help again. Just like when they were teenagers, directionless and feeling everything all at once. He’d do it over and over if it meant Kaoru would be okay.

His broad arms wrapped around the man, and he didn’t let go, albeit their uncomfortable position. One of his hands was rubbing his back in soothing, circling motions, with the other one hiding in his hair. He felt cold, his body shaking with each little sniffle and sob.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Kojiro wasn’t sure if he was heard. His voice wasn’t much louder than a small mumble. He let go of the hug and cupped Kaoru’s pale cheeks instead, being as mindful as possible of his bruises. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they continued falling, and a chuckle escaped him, feeling his own eyes getting watery. “Fuck him. He’s nothing but wasted potential. You’ve done so much without him and I know you can do so much more.”

If I’d known this is where we’d end up, I would have cut him off ten years ago. Completely separate myself from him and take the opportunity to tell you what I’ve always felt. I know I wouldn’t have stood a chance, I’ve never been what you crave. But I wouldn’t have been such a coward.

“You look so ugly when you cry.”

The two men laughed at the feeble joke. Kojiro didn’t expect Kaoru to do that, but he figured it would happen. Both of them had always had a problem with vulnerability.

“Like you look any better. Your face is the same color as your hair.” He wiped Kaoru’s tears once more, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Allowing himself just this one thing. “You don’t need someone like that to prove things can still be good, Ru. I believe in you.”

He could tell Kaoru didn’t fully believe the words. And that was okay. He’d be okay.

Kojiro pressed another kiss to his forehead, then his knuckles, praying above all else that the actions could convey everything he was trying to say, as well as everything he felt. I’m here for you. I love you. I love you.

It was back to washing his hair then. Neither of them spoke; there was no need. Kojiro washed, conditioned, detangled Kaoru’s hair, washed his bruises, helped him dry off, and guided him to the bedroom, offering fresh, warm clothes. He even blow-dried his hair and braided it, just like he used to do when they were teens, keeping it out of Kaoru’s face. Now it was just a matter of changing into some new clothes himself, and set up the couch…. His heart wanted to explode, beat straight out of his chest and straight into bed with him.

So he did. The night was full of mistakes and bad ideas, anyway; what’s one more? He lay on his side, watching as Kaoru attempted to do the same, settling about three-fourths of the way there. They were eyeing each other, both of them seeming like they had something to say.

Kaoru went first. “Thank you. You could have just left me back home, or at the emergency room. This means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Kojiro got closer to him, allowing himself to push his hair back, over and over, creating a rhythm. “You mean a lot to me. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Langa completely destroyed you.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

Kaoru was holding Kojiro’s hand by then, guiding it to his cheek. Kojiro left it there, softly running his thumb along his thin lips.

“You know I’m beating his ass if he comes near you again, right?”

Kaoru smiled, tired. His eyes were halfway shut. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”

Kojiro smiled back, the feeling of relief and comfort slowly returning. “Need a lullaby?”

A shake of the head signaling no, followed by a sleepy sigh and closed eyes. “Just stay here. The kids’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, honey.” Honey. Sickly sweet. He pretended he didn’t notice the way his cheek felt hotter against his palm. “They’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

The way Kaoru kissed his thumb sent a jolt down his spine. A bad idea for another day, Kojiro decided.

He sighed again, keeping his own hand loosely wrapped around his arm. “Goodnight, Kojiro.”

“Goodnight, Ru.”

#aly writes #do not repost #do not reupload #ao3 #matchablossom #sk8 the infinity #joe x cherry blossom #joe x cherry #bisexual joe #but also #closeted joe #i just think there should've been bigger repercussions to the cherry x adam race #i consider it a fucking plot hole #mans walked away unscathed basically #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #fan fiction #joecherry

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miceenscene · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 2.3k / 9.8k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence, lol does pining need a warning??

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Four: The Difference

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he'd invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he’d invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

He’d never done that before.

Ever.

Sometimes people were more passengers than quarry, but they never stayed before.

They always left.

Nia stayed.

It took some getting used to, having another person around.

Old habits had to be adjusted. His helmet now only came off in bed or the fresher.

Though once he did forget it till he was halfway across the hull, half-awake and scrounging through the ration bars to find the good ones. It took a boot scrape on the floor above him to remind him that there was another living thing aboard.

There was an undignified scramble back to the bed cubby, but the helmet was firmly in place before Nia appeared down the ladder.

Other habits were completely abandoned.

“Heading out?” Nia asked, looking up from her flight manual as the hull door dropped slowly open.

Din pulled a few hand grenades out of the armory and tucked them into his belt. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’m coming with you.” She picked up her bo staff and the pistol that she’d taken from the Sergeant.

“There’s no need–”

“I’m not going to sit here and babysit an empty ship.”

“I work alone,” he hedged.

“You offered to help me. And since the only thing my mind seems to bother recalling is fighting, I’m sure as hell not going to let that slip out of my grasp too.” She crossed her arms and gave him a very obstinate look.

Out of habit, she got the usual treatment he gave people when they argued: silence.

It was laughably ineffective.

They just wound up staring at each other for several minutes in stubborn silence.

She’d stand there till the sun went down, he could feel it in his bones.

Call it a Match hunch, which did not technically exist but might as well have.

“Fine. But wherever I go, you go, understood?”

“Loud and clear.”

Her stubbornness didn’t stop once they were off the ship either.

A quarry got away from them for a full two days because they kept arguing about battlefield tactics.

They got the clawdite in the end. But only once they’d both apologized and made a new plan together.

And there was also the time she flew the ship without him.

Granted, he’d been knocked unconscious. And they did need to outrun the X-wings.

And for a woman who couldn’t remember where she was two moon cycles ago, she was a fair pilot.

If he didn’t care to use the ship ever again.

That dent in the hull wouldn’t come out no matter how many mechanics tried.

Even still, it seemed to take very little time at all before Nia’s presence was thoroughly expected and normal.

She seemed to… enjoy herself at times. And he did too, if he was honest.

Not that she wasn’t still deeply odd.

She spoke fluent mando’a, but fought like no Mandalorian he’d ever seen.

She could meditate for hours, and always seemed keenly aware of his exact location nearby when she did.

And then one evening, he came down from the flight deck, ready to climb into bed for some rest when he found her… contorted in the middle of the hull.

Her body was bent and stretched in ways he wasn’t previously aware that bodies could move.

Or at least move and still survive.

He watched as, without any hurry at all, she moved from one impossible pose to another; her breath and muscles in perfect control.

She could have made any of his old trainers proud with her self-mastery.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking his way.

His face heated under the helmet. He should have guessed this would be like her meditation.

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving to sit on a crate and pull off his boots.

She ended her routine by standing and bringing her hands pressed together in front of her chest and letting out one last long breath.

“I don’t know exactly. All I know is I feel restless if I don’t,” she said, turning around to face him. She patted his shoulder as she passed. “Sleep well.”

That happened often. Her touching him.

Even in the covert, even in his years of training back on Mandalore, no one had touched him so often.

And so casually too.

Like it was nothing at all for her to rest her arm on his shoulders as he demonstrated how to properly land the ship.

Or to sit so close to him when eating that her arm brushed his with every movement.

Maybe it was nothing at all to her.

But it was much more than nothing to him.

Her hands were all over him as she trained him in polearms, adjusting his grip, shifting the angle of his arms, urging him to relax the tension between his shoulder blades.

She held his hips to guide him through the weight transfer he kept overshooting, his face hot enough to melt his helmet clean off the entire time.

She quickly noticed how stiff he was around her. To his detriment.

He’d just been stepping around her in the flight deck.

Then suddenly a hand jabbed his rib cage.

He jumped, a strange noise cutting out of him as he did.

Nia broke immediately into a resounding laugh, pressing a hand to cover her mouth, doing a poor job of dampening the sound.

“I’m sorry!” she managed after a moment. “I–I didn’t know you’d… oh I’m s-sorry, Din.”

That was the first time he heard her laugh. It softened her blow considerably.

The second time he heard her laugh was when he retaliated two days later.

She leapt to the other side of the hull and was in a full fighting stance before she realized that he’d poked her.

Then she laughed again, making him laugh too, a smile beaming from under his helmet.

It happened somewhere when he wasn’t paying attention.

Somewhere between debating infiltration tactics and sparring, between knowing glances while Karga attempted to short-change them and long warm afternoons spent up in sniper’s nests, waiting for their quarry to return home…

She became his friend.

“I figured it out,” Nia said as she sat at the bar of a crowded cantina. She’d been sent in alone, semi-undercover as she was far less conspicuous than he was, to find their quarry. “An emergency induction tube. Then you can drink in bars with me and keep the helmet on.”

Outside in the alley, Din scoffed and spoke over the commlink in his helmet. “An emergency induction tube?”

“I have one now.”

He looked through the window to see her sip her drink through a straw. He chuckled then answered, “Still won’t work.”

She grunted, feigning annoyance. “‘Wherever you go, I go’ always seems to stop counting when it's time to relax.”

Under the helmet, he smiled.

“Do you have friends, Din?”

“What?” he asked over the commlink. Had he heard her right?

“I said, do you have friends? Been flying with you for a few months now, and I’m still waiting to meet them.”

“You met Ran and his crew.”

“You think Ranzar Malk and the rest of those criminals are your friends?” she asked, a little incredulously. “Didn’t Qin try to stab you during the last job?”

Technically, it was Xi’an who tried to stab him. “They’re… contacts.”

“So that’s a no on friends.”

He paused then said, “You’re my friend.”

Through the small vantage he had, he could see her smile down at her drink, eyes glancing just his way. His chest warmed.

“So one woman with a head like Corellian cheese. That’s… pretty good for a bounty hunter.”

“Same number you have right now.”

Her chuckle was low, sparking a single star burst high in his chest. “You have me there. Ah, found him. Target’s at the sabacc tables. I’ll flush him out into the alley.”

They had a good partnership. And he was happy to share most everything with her, what little amenities he could offer aboard The Razor Crest.

He didn’t realize she hadn’t been sleeping in the bed for weeks. Not until he came down from the flight deck early and found her curled in a corner of the hull, still using his cape as a blanket.

She didn’t seem to know where it had come from. And he certainly wasn’t going to inform her or take it back.

When he asked why she wasn’t using the bed, she said that it was his.

“It belongs to whoever’s sleeping,” he replied, firmly meaning it.

She took him at his word.

He hadn’t really been prepared, however, to crawl into the cubby after a long day and find that the whole space smelled like her soap.

She’d bought it in the first city they arrived in weeks back. Now it was all over his blankets.

Sea air. And wildflowers.

With the door to the cubby firmly shut, he slept with the helmet off that night…

And every night after, an unstoppable glow building in his chest.

Her memories, unfortunately, did not return. Or certainly not as fast as the droid made it seem like it would.

In several months, very little arrived.

Early childhood memories of Mandalore before the Great Purge. But no explanation of the control chip, or her skills.

She kept up a strong aloof appearance of her defect, but every so often, Din caught a glimpse of her despair hiding behind it.

They were in hyperspace, both working on small projects during the journey. He was outfitting one of his guns with a new scope, and Nia had taken to carving designs on her bo staff. It was turning into quite the fine weapon in her steady hands.

They’d been quietly working for a while when she started humming a low, slow tune. She didn’t even seem to be aware she was doing it.

Din looked up at her as her quiet song continued. Her curly dark hair twisted high on her head, back bowed over her staff in her lap as she deepend the etchings she’d done.

Her song wound back on itself and only then did she seem to realize what she’d been doing.

She looked up and sucked in a shaky gasp.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She nodded, bottom lip quivering and eyes turning glassy. “My father used to sing that song,” she finally explained with a watery smile.

Though she couldn’t see, he smiled back, a tightness clenching high in his chest.

A bright fullness so wide it pushed out all the air in his lungs to make room.

He’d been feeling that a lot lately.

It wasn’t unpleasant, though it was annoying at times.

Especially when it showed up in the middle of a fight after Nia did something particularly skilled against her opponent.

It seemed to have no rhythm or source… besides her.

The galaxy was just different with her around.

It didn’t seem so soulless.

Perhaps because she noticed the small ignorable things.

Grabbing his arm to stop and watch street performers in a market he would have otherwise just passed through.

Pointing out the broad purple sweep of the planet’s rings through the night sky as they walked the quarry back to the ship.

Or perhaps because it was just simply nice to have someone around. Someone he enjoyed spending time with, someone who would have his back in danger, someone he trusted.

He knew what the star bursts high in his chest meant.

He wasn’t obtuse.

But there was a large difference between understanding and ready to admit, even just to himself.

Much less to her.

As for Nia, it took her several months to ask the inevitable.

He could feel her gearing up to ask something. Must be something pointed with how long her wind up was, nearly a full ration bar.

“Can I ask about your helmet?”

“No, you can’t wear it,” he answered, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning. He got a small smack on his arm for the answer, making him grin.

“I know that. I meant… your oath is to not show your face to another living being ever. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Not even your clan?”

He looked up now. “I don’t have a clan. I was a foundling.”

“But you could have one someday–unless that’s also part of the oath.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not part of it.”

Nia leaned forward, deadly serious. “So… say you have a spouse, or children, they’d never know your face?”

She sounded… sad, he realized after a moment.

He’d had plenty of questions about his helmet; it came with being a Mandalorian. But none before had ever looked at his helmet and seen tragedy.

Not even him.

“When I took the creed, I gave up my old life. The helmet is my face. That’s what it means to be Mandalorian.”

“But I knew my parents’ faces… and they were Mandalorian.”

No they weren’t, a voice not his own hissed in the back of his mind, nasty and cruel and he didn’t know where it had come from.

He shook his head. “I don’t know… but this is what I was taught. This Is The Way.”

She didn’t press it any further, but the quiet disagreement in her eyes stuck with him as he drifted to sleep, alone and helmetless in sea air and wildflowers.

Chapter 5: The Discovery

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#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin x ofc #the mandalorian #mando x you #Din Djarin fanfic #soulmate au #Star Crossed #my writing

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unfunny-quips · 4 years ago

Text

Of all the many people in the world who wanted him dead, All For One had to admit that he was rather surprised by the person who actually managed to both track him down and get past his impressive security.

He knew someone was there the moment he opened the door. Could sense the presence of another person in his high rise apartment that shouldn’t have been there. A steady heartbeat, unflinching and unafraid. Brave or stupid, he wasn’t sure, but they’d be dead either way once he wrung out of them how they’d gotten in and which of his security detail he was going to have to kill.

He shrugged off his coat - it was new and fit him well, he’d rather not get blood on it - and hung it up carefully by the front door. Slipped off his shoes and rolled his shoulders with a sigh. Though that particular apartment was not homey per se, there was something oddly comforting about returning to a living space that was entirely his own at the end of a day. Though centuries ago, a childhood fraught with uncertain living situations and inconsistent care had left marks on him that time and power had not fully been able to shake.

All the more reason to make the intruder’s death slow, as insignificant a threat as they were, they’d at least been able to find him. Which meant finding a new luxury apartment, perhaps even in a new city. And he despised moving.

He kept his steps light on the polished wooden floors, stopping by the oversized and little used kitchen for some water before he meandered his way towards the living room where his uninvited guest waited. Perhaps he’d throw them out the window, eighty stories up would make for a rather long time to think about their impending death. Or maybe tear them apart inch by literal inch so they had to languish in their suffering.

Setting his glass down on the kitchen counter he stepped into his spacious living room and paused at what sat waiting for him.

All For One, Emperor of Darkness, King of all Villains, Boogeyman of the Boogeymen found himself...uncertain.

There was a woman seated on his couch. Casually dressed and relaxed looking, knees drawn up and tucked beneath her, an open book bag on the floor beside where she sat and a law textbook in hand. She finished highlighting a section carefully before capping the marker and turning her gaze on to him, letting him see her face properly for the first time.

Green eyes were the first thing that struck him. Clear and bright and intelligent, set in a kind face. Her hair, also green, was swept down a little past her shoulders with half of it pulled up in a fluttering little bun at the back of her head. He was struck by two thoughts as he took her in.

The woman sitting before him was entirely unintimidated by him.

And...

She looked a bit like Nana Shimura.

The woman tilted her head, seeming to take him in while he’d been observing her. She shifted on the couch a little, shutting the book softly and setting it down. Her heartbeat was steady, her gaze unflinching but not combative. Purpose seemed to flow off of her, as resolute as her steady gaze. He understood that she knew exactly who he was and felt no need for fear nor sense of unease in his presence. A strong will, he knew the aura he carried around him well and it was someone interesting indeed who could face the overwhelming killing intent that drifted off him in waves without so much as a flicker of uncertainty.

“Hello.” She said with a soft, clear voice. The kind of ease one has with an acquaintance or a friend not often seen, not a stranger whose house she had invaded. “I’m sorry to have broken in like this.” She started, with the appropriate level of apology one would save for knocking over a stranger’s drink. “But I was hoping you’d be able to help me.”

He should be irritated, he should just kill her and get on with his evening, he should make her an example for anyone else stupid enough to think they could waltz into his home without consquence.

He wasn’t irritated though. And he didn’t kill her. Instead he found himself oddly...charmed by the stranger that sat before him.

“Indeed?” He asked blandly, slipping his hands into his pockets before leaning against the wall casually. “I’m afraid you’re rather lost if you think this is a police station.”

The woman broke into a small smile, a soft huffing chuckle leaving her. Shaking her head she dropped her gaze for a moment and he saw the faint pink of a blush on her cheeks. He was, he realized. He was absolutely charmed by her. And it wasn’t even her Quirk doing it, hers had the feel of a gravitational telekinesis, not a mood altering ability. The woman that sat before him, who had broken into his home and casually asked him for help as if searching for her stray cat, was oddly endearing. And it had been a long time since he had found himself endeared by anything, let alone a person.

“Sorry,” She said, shifting on the couch. “I’ve probably done this all wrong. But I wanted you to know I was serious.” Green eyes met his own and he was struck again by the intelligence he saw in her gaze. “I don’t know why I thought this would be the way to do it but…” She gave a shrug, then slowly got to her feet. Careful not to topple her bag or trip as she untangled from her comfortable position on the couch. “Here, let me try again.”

He watched as she gave a short, polite bow, hands clasped before her. A neat and polite introduction, complete with a soft smile as she rose to meet his gaze again. “My name is Midoriya Inko. I’m a graduate law student at Kyushu University, and I was hoping you could take my Sensei’s Quirk.”

Well.

How on earth was he supposed to kill such a charming, polite young woman when she came to him with such an interesting request such as that?

He couldn’t, of course, was the answer.

---

Inko always had trouble with authority.

Even when she was very young she’d been prone to doing what she was told she shouldn’t just because an adult told her not too. Her father - in what faint and blurring memories she had of him before his death - used to call her his little revolutionary and would laugh over the hijinks her stubborn nature would produce. Then again, her father had his reasons to support the wholesale refusal to bend to the whims of authority.

Trying to take down the corrupt system the government had put in place had been the cause of his death, after all.

Her mother had been far less amused by Inko’s acts of rebellion for rebellion’s sake. Always begging Inko to please just follow the rules just once honey with a perpetually exhausted look on her face. Inko’s only picture of her mother - a snapshot of the entire family at a park, her small frame held in her father’s arms a month before he would be killed - showed Nana Shimura with a wide, infectious smile in place. It felt odd looking at it in years to come, as Inko could only recall her mother looking mournful and sad in those last days.

It had been Kotaro that was the well behaved one of the two of them. Thirteen minutes older than her, he took the responsibilities of the eldest sibling with a seriousness that was almost frightening at times when they’d been children.

He’d been the one to tell her not to get into trouble, the one to reprimand her when she misbehaved. The one to tell her not to sneak out when they were teenagers in one of their many foster homes after their mother had given them up. Rule abiding, strict and, as they’d grown, more and more obsessed with control. Of her, of their situation, of whatever he could. A strangling, grasping bid at a control that had only led their already rocky relationship to splinter even further.

Her last conversation with him before she’d stopped speaking to him completely he’d told her that she should be a quiet housewife. She’d gone and applied to law school the very next day.

She still found herself wondering if that had been Kotaro being clever. Using her own contrary impulses to make her commit to something she’d always wanted to do but been too uncertain about to try and follow. It would have been the kindest he’d been to her in years if it was true, and she’d been too afraid to reach out to him to find out for fear that it wasn’t.

Instead she focused on her studies, focused on being the person she wanted to be instead of the person she’d been forced to become over the years. Not the abandoned daughter of a hero that had to retire too soon, but someone who was able to take the rules she’d been so long rebelling against and reshape them. Twist them under her hands until they settled into something she could believe in. Something she could follow.

At nineteen, after careful consideration and one less-than-helpful conversation with her friend Mitsuki she changed her name to Midoriya. On her twentieth birthday enjoying the fact that she could - legally - drink herself into oblivion, she cut her waist long hair off in a single ugly cut with the kitchen scissors. The next hour was spent in laughter as Mitsuki’s shy fashion student boyfriend Masaru fixed the mess as best he could. At twenty-one she clutched her best friend’s hand and gritted her teeth as a tattoo artist brought to life a stylized kitsune on her shoulder. A mark of the trickster she wished to become. And in between all of that, she proved herself to the academic world at large and earned herself a full ride to Kyushu University’s much lauded law program.

The work was challenging, equal parts exhilarating and mind-numbingly boring. She spent her days working hard to get top marks in every class, to ace every test, and impress every teacher with her sharp wit and unbending will. Her nights were filled with studying and working whatever jobs she could pick up to cover what her scholarships didn’t cover. Mitsuki teased her that she would get wrinkles from squinting at so many books, but her friend was always supportive.

Years passed, semesters flying by in almost a dream at times, whisking her closer and closer to graduation and her dream of reshaping the system into something she could believe in. Despite her exhaustion, she’d found herself happier than she’d ever been in her life.

Which of course was the exact moment that it all started crashing down.

It started with one of the girl’s in the same program as Inko suddenly dropping the ball on her studies, the other woman’s grades began plummeting at an alarming rate. The girl - Shibata Aiko - looked ragged and exhausted, unable to focus and eventually being dropped from the program entirely due to the issues with her academic performance.

A few weeks later it was another female student shutting herself away in her dorm room for an entire week. The girl finally left her dorm looking haggard and sick, refusing to speak to anyone as she walked barefoot out into the wider world and immediately attempted to throw herself in front of a bus.

Then one of Inko’s senpai’s - kind and serious Hanako who had mentored Inko briefly when she’d first joined the school - had what could only be called a breakdown in the school library. Screaming and crying as she began tearing up law books and flinging chairs.

Each incident was quickly handled and waved away as young women not suited for the high expectations and difficulties of such a high ranking university. Most of Inko’s classmates had been, if not content to accept that information, at least too exhausted by their own heavy workloads to question further.

But Inko never was good at accepting the will of authority.

#My writing #Fic snippet #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Inko Midoriya #kotaro shimura #all for one #all for one is midoriya hisashi #dad for one #inko x one for all #inko is nana shimura's daughter #rebellious inko midoriya #all for one is completely smitten #bnha au #all for one: this is the story of how I met your mother

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crispycrimebrulee · 4 years ago

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🎄25 Days of HXH: Day 24: Illumi x I’ll Be Home For Christmas🎄

He was supposed to be home 2 days ago.

He wasn’t supposed to have a job, a mission, so close to Christmas.

Of course, needs have to be met, money needs to be made, but some tact in timing would have benefited everyone. Illumi has a life too, you know.

You had made him promise he would be there for Christmas, but now?

That seemed to be in jeopardy of becoming a broken promise. I’ll Be Home for Christmas by Frank Sinatra

Taglist: @errorpeachy @twistedsmth @lifescreams27 @some-weeb-chick @whistlingastronaut @to-move-on-means-to-grow @dukinaxael @absolute-flaming-trash @my-child-gaara @demonhugger

There’s a privilege, being able to have someone to come home to during the year, but it’s amplified during Christmas, no matter who they are; friend, family, lover, it’s always lucky to have someone to come home to, someone to share that personal joy with. Work and school and those things only limit it so much, because even those obstacles know when to let up. It’s always the little things, too. Fixing a scarf, tucking it properly so the other doesn’t get cold. Holding another's hands in the event of forgotten mittens. Huddling together outside in hopes of sharing heat and keeping warm. Rosey cheeks and soft gazes, half buried under hats, hoods and scarves, lashes dusted with snow. Holding each other steady so you don’t slip on tricky patches of ice while you walk in the park, sick of being cooped up inside. Sitting silently by fireplaces, feeling each other's gentle movements and quiet hums, being content in each other's presence. Falling asleep knowing that, you would do it again and again and again, knowing you had them to come home to, knowing you had them to wake up to and laugh with and learn with and grow with and love with. Now, on Christmas Eve, someone was selfish enough to take him away from you, leaving you in the Zoldyck estate, essentially alone, for 2 days, waiting from dusk till dawn for Illumi to come home.

He hadn’t even said where he was going, only that it was more or less an emergency, and that he needed to go take care of business. He left in the silent hours of the morning, running off to cause an untimely death so close to such a rich holiday. Such is life, one can assume.

You walked along the sitting area, the massive Christmas tree giving off a golden glow in the dimly lit room. It was actually the only light present, save for the faint glow of candles in their holders, scattered about the walls of the room. Empty and quiet, resting on the arrival of Christmas day while you alone rested on the safe arrival of Illumi.

Glittery white and gold ornaments, mixed with ornaments purely made with Swarovski crystals dangled on the branches of the tree, the vibrations of your footsteps making them shiver. An ornament, your initials and his hung on the tree, in a spot only he could reach, slightly tucked in into the branches. You ran your fingers over it as best and as gently as you could, wishing he were there to bring it down for you.

Under the tree had gifts piled up, and upon finally getting a good look at the labeling, most of them were labeled to you, from Illumi. That man loved to spoil you rotten, much to your protest. Gifts upon gifts upon gifts whenever he came back from a mission. It was the same here, under this tree. Boxes, fancy gold wrapping paper, beautiful handwriting, a whole section under the tree dedicated to gifts for you, as if he cleared out multiple stores in your name. You smiled, finding various envelopes addressed to you as well under the tree. He always told you he didn’t know how else to spend his money, so spoiling you was his best (and favorite) option. You’d gotten him some gifts as well, a bracelet to share, a blanket for when he gets cold, personal, small items that although weren’t nearly as fanciful as what he’d gotten for you, he preferred to be given meaningful things from you, knowing you thought of him during it.

Knowing you’d grow more restless looking at the Christmas gifts, you got up and moved towards the library.

The library windows were lightly frosted from the temperature, and you dragged a line in the frost as you walked past, peeking out the thin line into the outside world. It was snowing quietly, fresh unbroken snow falling down into soft piles, the occasional whistle of wind sweeping loose snow into small twirls, only to settle again into a new spot silently. Your footsteps echoes as you walk along the marble floors; you seem to be the only soul alive tonight against the silence of the entire estate. Swiping your hand against the glass, you watched a reindeer pass through the snow, its hooves creating deep imprints only to be slowly covered by snow as fast as they were created, and you sighed. Not a trace of Illumi, not a trace of those hooves, not a trace of sound, just you and your wishes. You absently wrote his name in the frost on the window, the tip of your finger stinging from the cold, prompting you to pull away. The window was frosting up again quietly, the name and the line disappearing as you walked off into the hallway, wandering into the next room.

You never noticed the echo that the halls carried, but maybe that was because he wasn’t here with you. Even as you walked lightly, soft socks on your feet, your footsteps still echoed, the hallway seeming endless. The echoes fell into other rooms that you passed by; another sitting area, the dining room, the training rooms, an office. Empty, empty, empty, waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to be here in his silence, a silence only he could make.

Walking into yet another room, this seemed to be an observatory, a large telescope in the middle of the room. When had you climbed floors? You don’t remember, seeing as you were aimlessly walking about, attempting to occupy yourself. On a table, a small box sat there, looking as though it had collected its fair share of dust. Picking it up and opening it, it was a small music box, and you twisted the handle a few times, curious as to what song would play. Soft twinkling broke the silence, I’ll Be Home For Christmas played on tiny notes, and you could almost feel them in the snowflakes that fell down into the snow outside, feel them in the stars that sat in the sky. The snow and the stars knew where he was, didn’t they? They heard the soft song too, and maybe if you wished hard enough, they would get to him.

The observatory seemed to be lightly decorated too, small white lights and garland strung about the high ceilings, giving the room a classy touch. It was the only light available there too, soft and glowing in the corners of the ceiling.

The music box crackled, the tinkling notes straining as they slowed down and stopped shortly thereafter, prompting you to finally move as you were standing still, listening to it all this time. You couldn’t bring yourself to put it down, seeing it was all you had in the moment, so you brought it with you as you walked down the halls again, waiting for Illumi to come home. You turned the small dial again, the song softly playing on starlight notes, slightly louder than your echoing shuffles. Had you gone down the stairs again? It seems you have as you found yourself in a living room now, the fireplace alive with a gentle fire, auburn glow cascading over the room. It invited you to sit for a while, focusing on something else while the music box faded out again, only for you to rewind it with a few turns.

You sat on the couch, the soft hissing of the fire drowning out the silence, adding soft warmth to the music box. There was another Christmas tree in here as well, stunning red decorations against the green pine, casting classic Christmas tones throughout the room. There was only one present here, a small box seated snuggly under the tree, and you got up to inspect it. Of course, it was labeled to you, from Illumi, and you smiled, wondering to yourself why he placed a gift here secretly, perhaps he meant for you to find it, knowing you would be missing him at this hour. You took it and sat back down on the couch, the warmth of the fire and its soft glow holding you close. There was a soft ticking, not from the music box which had since stopped yet again, but from a grandfather clock in the corner of the room, softly ticking away as the minutes went by. 11:45pm it read, and once again you sighed, biting at your lip, knowing Christmas day was slowly coming around. You glanced around the room, looking out the windows, the snow still softly falling, the piles it created getting larger and larger. You quietly ran your fingers over the small gift, and you absently shook it, hearing soft movements inside. Maybe you could open it at midnight like you always did at Christmas. The fire popped, sending golden sparks flying as the fire burned on, making you curl up into the side of the couch.

You glanced at the clock again...11:49pm.

He’d promised, you know, that he’d be home for Christmas. The clock was starting to tell you a different story, and although you fought to ignore it, you couldn’t help but steal glances, watching the hands make its rounds across the numbers, softly ticking away.

11:51pm.

And it was silent as ever, the fire could no longer compete with the quiet snow, the silence of the estate, the ticking of the clock, the steadiness of your heart falling in tune with the clock. The fire only hissed in the absence of the music box, still faintly playing in your memory.

11:53pm.

You curled up further on the couch, pressing yourself into the cushions further as soft footsteps in snow cut through the silence, the small music box falling from your lap. You were in front of the large windows in minutes, swiping at the frost, the fire hissing in vigor. You gripped the small gift as a glimpse of sleek black hair graced your vision and you sprinted down the hallways, making a mad dash for the front doors.

11:57pm.

Hard footsteps breaking silence only to be swallowed up again as fast as you made your way down the hallway, your lungs burning as you picked up pace, hearing soft shuffling not too far away. Rounding a corner, another glimpse of black hair and a green shirt passed by your eyes and you almost yelled...had you yelled? You might’ve, seeing as the figure stopped in their tracks, facing you.

11:59pm.

Oh and he was home. Right there, in a silence only he could make, profound and classy yet full of adoration for none other than you. He set his things down, seeing you making your way over to him, his eyes soft yet steadfast as ever.

Christmas.

You nearly toppled him over, much to his surprise stumble backwards and you greeted him with an almost rib-crushing hug as you buried your face in chest, taking him in as he stood there. He slowly allowed his arms to enveloped you too, one hand on your back, the other slowly caressing your head, putting his face in your hair. You were still clutching the box, the other hand rubbing his back as you calmed down, finally having him here with you for Christmas.

“Hello, y/n.” he finally spoke, his voice smooth and gentle, passing through you.

“You’re home…” was all you could whisper into his chest, and he hummed in response.

“Of course I am. I said I would be.” he said, his cheek rubbing against the top of your head.

“I didn’t think…” you trailed off, fighting off soft tears.

“I promised, did I not.”, resting his chin on top of your head.

You hugged him tighter, the small box brushing against his side.

“Open it, y/n.” he said, moving a hand to gesture to the box in your hand.

You pulled away from him slightly to open the box, allowing him to still hold you while you peeled off the wrapping paper. Small black velvet box, your initials and his carved into the top with silver lettering. You only cracked it open, just a little bit, and everything felt silent again, your blood ran cold, and you held your breath only for a moment before Illumi took the box from you as you stood there frozen.

Time didn’t matter anymore as he got on one knee, peering up at you through stunning black hair. He couldn’t even say anything before you fervently nodded, babbling yes’ as fast as you could muster, your blood suddenly running hot, the fire popping and crackling in the background. He only relished in a deep sigh and soft smile as he got back up, slipping the ring on your finger just as you nearly threw him down once more with a hug, this time pulling you close, nearly lifting you from the floor.

Finally home for Christmas, home in his arms, in a silence and love only he could create, and that was a priceless gift.

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realm-sweet-realm · 3 years ago

Text

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 2

Please enjoy this Shawn x Grant story. It is a part of my canon.

Thankfully, Shawn and Grant were able to sneak out undetected. Shawn knew the warehouse Norman had told them to meet at- the one Lacie worked in, roughly two blocks from the studio and not visible from it. From there, they called a cab to take them to a bar (as Norman had promised and Shawn had reminded him) and declared themselves safe.

“Uh, sorry the raid was a bust,” Shawn said.

“It wasn’t.” Norman held up a set of keys. “I can go anywhere I want in the studio now, whenever. And I saw Sammy Lawrence wearing a Bendy mask. I knew it. I knew he was a part of this. I’m gonna crack this if it kills me.”

“Sure you will,” Lacie drawled. “Mind telling us why this is your choice of hobby? Like, why are you like this?” Shawn could tell that she was using her friendly cold, judgmental tone, which was different from her genuinely cold, judgmental tone. He hoped Norman could, too.

“Like I’d tell you. What, you think I’d ask for your life story just like that?”

“I’ll tell it. I ain’t got nothing to hide. I was born to two crack-addicted pieces of shit, so I learned to rely on the parents of neighbourhood kids on days they decided not to care for me. It was like that basically my entire life before my sister sorted herself out and I moved in with her. But it taught me I could take care of myself, so I didn’t mind moving with Bertrum wherever he went, and I didn’t cry when he retired.”

“And it’s a good thing he retired, or I might not’ve met Lacie when ah did. Bein’ an immigrant, away from home for the first time an’ barely speaking teh language- it woulda been real lonely otherwise. Of course, Ah make friends easy, but I’m still glad she was one'a them.”

Lacie’s sharp eyes landed on Grant. They’d only met once before and neither had been too comfortable with the other. “And what about you, Grant? Anything interesting in your past?”

“Oh, no. Normal upbringing. Parents who loved me. Nothing special.” It was lame, but it was the truth.

The four of them kept chatting for about an hour.

How did I end up surrounded by the three strongest people I know? Grant wondered. Most of his friends growing up had been cousins or kids of family friends, and his social circle hadn’t diversified much since, until he met Shawn and Norman. Comparatively, these three were freaks. But they were all so respectable, and honestly, Shawn and Norman were some of the best friends he’d ever had.

Life in general had given Grant a lot to be thankful for as of late. The early thirties had been hard on him- after the stock market crashed, he’d gone through a job loss, the collapse of his marriage, some domestic abuse, his divorce, and losing custody of his children. But now? Things were alright. He had a new job, and the studio was, generally speaking at least, holding steady financially. Against all odds, his daughters seemed to be fine living with their mother- maybe she had been serious about working on herself for them. Grant cherished the time he did have with them, and though he hated to admit it, he was much happier divorced. And of course, now he had these two. It was while he was there, listening to the three of them talk, that he realized that he was currently the most content he’d been in years.

Shawn had had a few drinks by that point, and leaned on Grant as though he intended to fall asleep on him.

“I think I should take Shawn home. Norman, can we talk about something tomorrow? In the projector booth.”

“Of course,” Norman said. Something in the way he said it told Grant that he already knew what it would be about.

---

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Norman asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“It’s about Shawn,” Grant started. How much to say? He figured that Norman knew he was gay- very little escaped Norman’s notice, after all- but maybe Norman was only okay with that because he didn’t act on it.

“You know Sammy Lawrence?” Norman mused, looking through the window into the music room. “For a long time, he was dating his- very much male, I should mention- lyricist. I saw them making out once- this gorgeous pretty boy and this middle-aged marshmallow- I guess love is blind and all that. I’ve got no damning evidence of it, but I’d bet anything that Joey Drew is gay as well. And I could go on! This studio has more queer people than you would believe, and my powers tell me about more than just existential dreads.” There was a pause. Norman turned back to look at Grant. “So. As a living lie-detector, one of the best gaydars you’ll ever see on a straight man, and your best friend of over half a decade who would never betray you... you can tell me anything about what’s going on with him.”

Grant gave a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay with this. And yes, I’m considering dating Shawn.”

“Great. He likes you- I could tell.”

“Thanks. But I already knew- he kissed me suddenly about ten days ago. I didn’t know how to react, and I kind of froze up, and I told him that I liked him, but I needed to think about whether we could be together. Up until last night, I thought I’d tell him ‘no-’ I just hadn’t had the willpower to yet. And then I had an epiphany.”

“What was the epiphany?”

“I realized that I respect a bunch of very unconventional people- yourself included- so it’s okay that I’m not perfectly conventional. But... even if it’s not inherently wrong, the idea of acting on it still scares me. If my mother ever found out, it would break her heart. My father would be humiliated if anyone else knew about it, and he might not want to speak to me again. And if it got to my ex-wife, she’d do anything she could to keep me away from my kids- she might even report me. I don’t have to worry about any of that if I don’t act on it. I don’t know... is it even responsible to risk it? These are people I have obligations to. Is it worth it?”

“Well, only you can choose that. But don’t you want a chance at actual love? I mean, I sure like having a loving partner. Why give that up over the risk that someone else might find out?”

“I guess you’re right. Shawn could be my only opportunity for a while. I really don’t know if I want to get involved in whatever culture gay men have going on. If the stereotypes are true, I’d be walking into a group of dangerous people looking to take advantage of a naïve outsider. Of course, they might not be true, but I don’t want to just walk in without knowing. And anyhow, I wouldn’t know how to find anything like that if I tried.”

Norman nodded, taking some time to process everything he’d said. “Alright. Look- you’re overcomplicating a bunch of simple problems by rolling them together into one big problem. Just take it one issue at a time. You want your family to be happy? Make them happy, and don’t worry about something that won’t hurt them. Any partner you might have will know that this kind of thing has to be kept secret, and New York is a big city- you can hide it. You want to date Shawn? Date Shawn. I can tell he makes you happy. You don’t want to get into gay culture without knowing what it’s like? Then don’t. I don’t know anything about their culture, but you have no idea how many gay men are here at Joey Drew Studios. Plenty of people you can ask about it to decide if it’s your thing.”

“Wow. Thank you. You really made that all sound so simple.” Norman had a way of cutting straight to the point.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay. Heck, even if you decide not to have a love life after Shawn, I’m glad you’ll be doing it because you’re risk-adverse and not because you’re still ashamed.”

“Thanks again. Now I need to go find Shawn.”

In the end, Grant couldn’t find Shawn before it was time to get back to work, so the next day he left a note in his locker with some flowers. Like a schoolboy. Ridiculous. But that was how Shawn made him feel.

Over the next few years, their relationship went on, and off, and on again. They fought, probably more than the average couple. But overall, they were glad to have each other. It was worth it.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #grant cohen #norman polk #shawn flynn #shawn x grant #my fanfiction

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

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Jay Halstead x Reader

The Return

Written by @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy, birth, medical jargon that may not be accurate, Erin Lindsay bashing

Meeting detective Hailey Upton had been more nerve wracking than meeting Jay’s brother Will. He and Hailey were just closer, they had the same job, saw the same things, and had an irreplaceable trusting bond. You never, at any point felt threatened or worried by her presence or relationship with Jay. It was because of their bond that you were nervous, it was important for her to give you the stamp of approval.

You’d all met up at a nice family owned Italian restaurant. You’d all talked about movies, the blackhawks, and food before finally coming to a crucial topic; work. You were an OR nurse at MED while putting yourself through med school, you’d seen and operated on enough cops to know what you were getting into. It could happen at any point, it could easily go south, and you would not be alone in the waiting room if it happened. Miraculously you passed with flying colours, becoming good friends with her.

After that you met the rest of the team when they all went to Adam and Kim’s place to watch the cubs game. Kim was glowing, pregnancy going well aside from her vicious morning sickness, and she took to liking you as well when you made sure she got to eat first. Adam, Kevin, and yourself bonded over your love of puns and bad jokes. Vanessa and Antonio started speaking in rapid Spanish with you, creating a quick and lovable bond. Hank just shook your hand and nodded at you, you weren’t sure what that meant but Antonio assured you it was a good thing.

——————————————————

You were putting the finishing touches on your ensemble for the CPD Chief’s gala when Jay appeared behind you. “Hey hon, are you ready to- holy fuck you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you Jay. You look handsome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

——————————————————-

You made your way to Vanessa who was talking with Kevin with a distressed look on her face. “Hey! What’s wrong? We’re at a party with an open bar, what’s with the long face?”

“Uh....... Nothing? You know what, let’s find Hailey. And bug her about Dr Bekker.” You already suspected something was off but knew for sure when you felt Jay go completely rigid. “Jay?” You’d turned to look at him and he was completely pale, looking like he was seeing a nightmare. You followed his eyes to a gorgeous woman standing next to Hank and arguing with Kim in a sleek black dress. “What is she doing here? Why is she here?”

“Who? Who is she Jay?” Kevin and Adam came up to try and support Jay, move him into a chair. The lost and betrayed look in his eyes made it all click in place for you. “Erin.” It was as if she heard you from across the room, she turned and looked at Jay before meeting your eyes with a guarded look.

————————————

You were all seated at the same table and it was fucking awkward. Jay had his arm or hand on or around you the whole time. Erin was clenching her jaw and looked like there should’ve been steam coming out of her ears. Food was served and speeches were made and it was clear that Erin was still unhappy. Despite the fact that she was seated across from him, Jay refused to look her in the eye. It wasn’t nerves, those had worn off, he was pissed. And rightfully so. Voight invited her as his plus one. He didn’t tell anybody, didn’t warn anybody. Everyone was exchanging funny stories, barring Jay, Erin, and Voight. Jay wasn’t opening his mouth except to eat, Voight was glared into silence, and Erin was always cut off by Kim or Hailey.

“So, Y/N/N, any funny patient stories for us?” Erin perked up at Adam’s question. “Oh, you’re a doctor?”

“No, I’m an OR nurse at Chicago med.”

“Hmph. Not smart enough to be a doctor, then?”

“I just couldn’t afford medical school at the time I went to university. I managed to save up enough and get enough scholarship money to start medical school and stuff a few years ago. So now I’m working part time in the OR and I finish medical school this year. As long as I do well, I’ll get a placement for my residency in three months.”

“Oh.”

“So, to answer Adam’s question, last week we had to surgically remove a brand-new toilet brush that a man had shoved so far up his own anus, that it looked like he had a bunny tail.” Kevin choked on his water for a moment before spitting it out all over the centrepiece flowers. “Hahaha, oh my god! Are you serious?!”

“Unfortunately.”

Erin’s bitter voice broke through the hyena-like laughter of the rest of the table. “Saying the word ‘anus’ is a bit uncouth don’t you think?” Kim stared at her, regarding her in disbelief as she mouthed the word ‘uncouth’.

“Not particularly, no, considering it is the medical term for that part of the body and part of the name of a planet.” You shrugged her comment and mood off. It was pretty damn clear why she was behaving like a bratty spoiled child, and it said a lot more about her than it did about you. Besides, it felt like it would be a complete waste of energy to entertain her need for a verbal martial arts battle. She just wasn’t worth it.

“She’s got a point, besides Lindsay, if you make what she says dirty that’s really on you and not her.” Jay shrugged and kiss the top of your forehead.

———————————————

You were encompassed in the warmth of Jay. Low jazz was playing through the speakers as the two of you swayed softly, your head on his chest soothed by his steady heartbeat. At some point Jay had started to hum along to the music and you felt all the stress and anxiety buried deep inside of you just melt away. Nothing but you and the man you love existed. You were in your own glowing golden bubble of warmth and love.

You moved your head up and kissed him on the side of the mouth, humming along with him. He spun you around, tugging a joyous laugh from you throat before tugging you back and leaning his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, his around your lower back. Your noses moved around one another as your dancing slowed to a stop. It didn’t matter that you lived together, or that you’d been dating for four years, your heart was beating faster than it had the first time you kissed Jay. Suddenly your bubble had burst, you screamed and jumped away from Jay when you felt cold and wet all over your exposed back. The warmth was gone, replaced by a pitcher of ice and water that had been dumped on you courtesy of one Erin Lindsay.

———————————————

The floral smelling bath bomb you’d decided to finally use was just the thing to treat yourself to after your boyfriend’s ex decided to dump ice water on you at a public and major gala right before being called into an emergency at work. While your boyfriend had jumped into action, moving you towards the bathroom to dry up and offering his coat, your newly-made friends jumped to help you and defend you. A very angry and very pregnant Kim escorted you to her car with her husband while Voight made Jay and Erin ‘have a talk’. The only person who didn’t scowl at that news was Erin. Adam kept looking at you and asking if you were okay in the rear view mirror. “Adam, I’m okay. Annoyed, fuck yes, but I’m okay. And I know Jay will be too. I’m not worried.”

“You’re not? Even with their history?”

“No, I’m not worried. We talked about her when we started getting serious actually. She was an incredibly important person in his life, and she turned into a very vicious skeleton in the closet. I’ve got my own skeletons, too, everyone does. I know that he was hurt. Little shocked when he saw her at first, but Jay didn’t talk about everything that happened with her in depth with anyone but me. So I know what’s going on in his head, and I have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to say to her.”

You’d only been home (and dry) for half an hour before you got an ‘all hands on deck’ page from MED. Hastily pulling yourself together and running the three blocks between your apartment and the hospital. There had been a collision which caused several others, leading you to the OR for back to back surgeries for a total of fifteen hours. You’d been dismissed with the promise of forty eight hours off and an impressed nod from your boss.

You’d missed Jay because he’d had to go into work but smiled at the loving note he’d left on the fridge, along with a container of your favourite take out. Your heart absolutely soared at the thought of him.

Stepping out of the tub you patted yourself dry and dressed in soft shorts and sweater. Padding down to the kitchen, excitement at the thought of food bubbling up. The smell of your favourite take out wafted out of the container as you moved it onto a plate. Exhaustion was creeping up and taking hold of you as you shovelled food into your mouth. You welcomed the exhaustion and went to bed, leaving your dirty plate in the kitchen, something you wouldn’t normally do.

———————————————

When Jay returned to your shared apartment well into the evening you could tell that he was worn out. “Tough case?”

“No, actually. It was pretty straight forward, it’s just that Erin kept trying to call me. Since we were in the middle of a case Voight wouldn’t let her up but she kept calling me and Voight kept giving me these looks... I’m just glad that the case is shut, the day is over, and that I got to come home to you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, you could feel the soft smile that he had. “Dinner’s almost ready, would you mind setting the table?”

“Not at all.” You sat across from him at the small table pushed to the side of your kitchen, really looking at him. He looked tired, weighed down, but the tension gripping his body did seem to be lessening the more he was home, the more he ate, and the more he spoke. His eyes were light and happy, truthfully he looked a bit like a puppy. “I have time off tomorrow. Would you want to head up to the cabin?”

“Just for the day?”

“I know that it would be a lot of driving just for a day trip, but yeah.”

“Just to get out of the city for a bit?”

“Exactly.”

“You know it’s not that late, if we left now we could be there in a couple of hours, pick up some groceries on the way, we won’t need much. Wake up there, drive back in the evening.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“On a regular basis. And I love you too, so, so much.”

“How about you pack the necessities and I’ll clean up the kitchen?”

—————————————————-

You and Jay were on the road in forty minutes, just leaving Chicago as dusk started to dissolve into night. Jay’s secret country playlist was winding its was out of the speakers, the silence between the two of you was peaceful. The cooler bag filled with quick meals and leftovers Jay whipped together, removing the need for a grocery store. The coolness of the night encompassed you both, and the further you got from Chicago the heavier your eyelids got. A deep chuckle left your boyfriends throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

——————————————

Jay Halstead was a dirty liar. He didn’t wake you up when he got to the cabin, instead he went in ahead to put the power and water on, put away the food, changed the sheets, dusted quickly, and then carried you in and put you in bed. And when you woke up and realized what he did, he even put on your pajamas for you, all he could do was kiss your nose and tell you how adorable you were when you pouted. Leftover stir fry was breakfast for the both of you. You were miffed that he did everything alone last night, and in the back of your mind you knew it was because he felt guilty about Erin showing up, but you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he’d made your favourite food while you were packing last night. “Are you wanting to fish at all today or just swim?”

“Just swim around, we’ve missed the part of the morning that’s best for fishing and honestly I’m not really in the mood for it, unless you want to fish. I can take the boat over to the marina and pick up some bait if you want.”

“I’m okay for today too, Jay. But I think it would be nice to take the boat over to the marina and get ice cream before we leave.”

“Ooh, yes. I’ll go check to see how much fuel we have for the boat.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you out on the dock in a minute, I’m just gonna deal with the dishes.”

“That’s a funny expression, ‘deal with the dishes’ you sound like your going to ground them for throwing a baseball through a window or something.”

“Haha, I guess it does.”

——————————————

The bottom of the lake was brown, a result of the rocky bottom, but it didn’t matter that it didn’t look like the perfect insta post. It was fresh, and clean, and stunning, even with the mosquitos the size of a dog. And that’s how the morning was spent, swimming around the lake and laughing, enjoying the lighter air and the refreshing feeling from swimming around underwater amongst the algae and skittish fish. Carefree joy was a good look on Jay. The image of him throwing his head back as he tread water with the lake glistening around him, the sun enhancing the beauty of all the trees, plants, and cabin on the shore far back behind him as birds called out to each other was one that captivated you. “What?” His shoulders were sagging back to their regular position and Jay tilted his head slightly at you. You swam a few strokes closer and kissed him. As deeply as you could while both of you were treading water in the middle of a lake. Your legs kicked each other’s as you worked to stay afloat without your arms. You gripped onto each other, just reveling in the love you both shared. It didn’t last long unfortunately, because neither of you could tread water entangled in another persons limbs and without your arms. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“On a regular basis. And I love you too. So, so much.”

——————————

Lunch had been absolutely delicious. What could be better than your favourite food, with your favourite person, in your favourite vacation spot, after a breathtaking kiss in the middle of a lake? Absolutely nothing. That’s what. What made the day even better was Jay taking you both over to the marina in the boat to get locally made ice cream. “Halstead, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Martin.”

“And who’s the lady you’ve brought with you?”

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend. How have you been? I didn’t see you the last couple of times i was here.”

“I was retired in Florida. Didn’t like the heat though, so I came back. I’m living in the old O’Reilly property, they needed something bigger cause it’s only one bedroom, but it’s perfect for a retiree like me.”

“So you’re back to micromanaging Josie?”

“No, she’s run this place better than I ever did, it’s in the best possible hands. What are you guys here for? It’s too late in the day for bait.”

“Ice cream, we’re driving back to Chicago tonight cause we both have to work tomorrow.”

“Shame, how long have you guys been up here for?”

“Oh, just today, we drove up last night. Just needed a break from the city, you know?”

“I do. Well I don’t want to keep the two of you from ice cream, but you’ll have to give me a holler the next time you or Will are up here, we’ll have dinner or something.”

”Definitely. I'll see you around.”

”And you should come too, Y/N, I have plenty of stories about your boy from when he was wee.”

”Oh, well, I would not miss that for anything.”

”What? No, come on, you don't want to listen to embarrassing stories about me.”

”I really, really do.”

”They have mint chip.”

”One day, I will hear those stories. One day.”

”I like you already, Y/N.”

-----------------------

You were a little sad to leave the cabin, even though you'd only really been there for 24 hours. It had been a nice escape of reality, and Josie had been more teasing than her father. As you packed the rest of the bags in the car, there had only been three in total, really, you let out a bit of a sigh. The crickets we're playing a concert and the dreaded mosquito dogs had come out to hunt, but the aura was something you'd miss, even though you and Jay could come back.

The car ride back was filled with soft rock this time, and you felt yourself mouthing along to the songs.

---–--------------–

You were both a bit groggy the next day but it wasn't anything either of you couldn't handle. You arrived to your shift relaxed and we'll rested. ”Good morning Y/L/N. You look well rested, I take it the 48 treated you and Jay well?”

”Yeah, it did.” Your bubbly mood was it short though, when Dr. Bekker stormed into the prep room, clearly angry. “Well I should hope so, considering the rest of us had to pay for it.”

“What? There are other OR nurses, and I didn’t think either of you were scheduled for that time either.”

“No, it we did go to Molly’s. And do you know who else went to Molly’s?”

“Ava-“

“Erin Lindsay.”

“Oh no.”

“Damn right. She spent hours pulling on people’s arms and shouting about how you’re a whore-“

“Excuse me?!”

“Ava, really-“

“Okay!” She stopped her ranting for a moment. She leaned on the metal basin, completely ignore the suds on her arms and that she’d have to wash them again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you like that. It not your fault and you’re not a whore, no woman is. I just- it was the first time Hailey and I have been to Molly’s together since we started dating and your boyfriend’s cow of an ex had to ruin it.”

“I’m sorry, Ava. I- it’s not my place to handle her or anything. She’s not my ex.”

“No, but she is Jay’s, and the reason she was unhappy at Molly’s is because Jay apparently told her that they’re never getting back together.”

“Yeah, she was screaming at everyone, mostly intelligence that Jay had to still love her and all that. She got pretty hammered, Voight had to be called in to take her home.”

“What do you think- they just rolled the patient in, time to get in there and repair his left ventricle.”

———————————————

Your day was long and so was Jay’s so you decided to eat out, at a great Thai place Jay had introduced you to. “Erin wants me to move to New York to be with her, I don’t want to and I’m not going to, I just figured I should let you know.”

“Okay... I have to be honest Jay, I don’t know what to make of any of this.”

“Erin just got out of a bad relationship and I guess she remembered the good times we had together, and forgot that we had more bad times. It was both of our faults really. We both lied, and omitted, and kept things from each other. Our relationship wasn’t healthy, and it took me a long time and therapy to realize that. I don’t have anything against her and I wish her well, but I don’t feel the need to have her as a significant person in my life anymore, or be one in hers. I think that our story ended four years ago and that she’s just in a bad place right now, like I was when I dated Camila.”

“Okay. That doesn’t make her behaviour okay-“

“Oh absolutely not-“

“But I get it. I’ve been in that place too, so I get it.”

——————————————

Erin wasn’t as ready to let go of the subject as Jay, apparently. Voight remained quiet on the subject, something that infuriated you because he brought Erin back into everyone’s lives with no notice and no concern for their well being. Kim was still mad, so angry that she had banned Erin from meeting her newborn baby. “I deliberately never said a word about you to her all this time bec- ahhhhhhhhh.”

“Okay, Kim, I get it. You were a good friend and didn’t tell her anything about my life since she left because you knew I wouldn’t want her to know, it seriously, please stop focusing on an unnecessary apology to me when you should be focused on breathing until we get to the hospital.”

“Adam will meet us there?”

“Yes.”

“You promise you’re not ma-aaaaaaaaaaaaadddddd!!!”

“I promise, you never did anything wrong. Okay we’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re having a baby with ruzek. He’s kindof annoying-“

“KEV! Let’s focus on getting Kim out of my truck and into the hospital so that she can have her baby in a sterilized environment, okay?”

“Right, let’s go girl.”

Kim hadn’t needed to worry about epidural as it turned out, the baby went into distress almost immediately after she passed through MED’s doors, causing her to go into distress, and resulting in her needing an emergency C-section. You weren’t part of the OR team for that surgery because of how close you were, it you knew everyone who was and knew she was in good hands. You had been put in charge of giving the anxious police officers updates.

“They just finished the surgery, it went amazing. Kim’s in recovery and they baby’s getting checked out as we speak. And, Adam didn’t faint. He did very well, actually cut the cord.” Grumbles filled the waiting room as money was passed to Hailey. “Come on guys, you really had that little faith in him?”

“No one will be able to see Kim or the baby until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, but it might be longer. They both need time to recover.”

A few days later the waiting room was once again filled with police officers, this time some of their relatives were in attendance. You sat beside Jay, in regular clothes this time, waiting to be given the all clear to visit. You two were called over with Hailey and Ava, clutching a homemade blanket for the baby and a homemade meal for the parents. They were immensely grateful, Kim especially since she’d just been told that she could go back to non-hospital food. You were sitting on the recliner cradling baby Eliza, who was cooing in your arms when there were shouts and crashes in the hall. Everyone turned towards the door. The cops who hadn’t given birth less than a week ago, Hailey, Jay, and Adam, went into tactical mode, Kim stopped eating and took Eliza back, Ava grabbed the hospital phone to figure out what was going on, and you stood in between Kim and the door as the three cops made their way slowly into the hall. You’d locked the door after they left, peeking out of the small window. “I don’t see anything.”

“Erin.” You turned towards Kim, who just looked tired. “I talked to hospital security when she first got here, said that I didn’t want her to be able to see me. Or the baby. I just... I don’t trust her anymore. I spoke to her the day before she flew down here, I actually asked if she was ever coming back to visit. She said ‘no’. And then she just showed up at the gala... I feel pretty betrayed by her, honestly. She never initiates contact. Ever, it always falls on me. She’s spent years trying to get me to say something about Jay every once in a while, but I’ve always just said that she left him, you know? She left and didn’t say good bye or call or text so she doesn’t have any right to know anything about him now. And she’s been acting like a spoiled brat, you know she’s used the excuse of hanging out with me to try and get information about you and your relationship. I don’t feel like I’m her friend anymore. I feel like I’m her tool. And I just had a baby, a tiny human who relies on me, I don’t have time for toxic friends who make me feel like that. So I told her not to come and for security not to let her in.”

“Do you feel a bit better now that you’ve said all that out loud and to someone who isn’t Adam?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, well, if you don’t want to see her, you don’t have to. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

——————————————-

Erin had burned pretty much every bridge she had in Chicago in the two weeks she was there. She lost a lot of people’s respect after the incident in the hospital. When it became clear that some of her once closest friends were done with her, people felt it was okay to voice their grievances. After being shunned at 51, MED, 21, Molly’s, and her mother’s house, she showed up at your and jay’s apartment. A last ditch attempt at... Something.

“Please Jay, I love you.”

“No Erin, you don’t. You haven’t even seen me in four years. You’re just in a bad place right now. Go back to New York, okay? Your life is there now.”

She’d been in tears when she left, ugly crying, her face blotchy and make up running, as horrifying sounds ripped out of her throat. Jay just looked sad as he called Voight to pick her up.

———————————————

TWO WEEKS LATER

You were in stitches beside Jay, trying to breathe while laughing so hard. “Seriously?!”

“Hey, I was seven!”

“And I was five! Just listening to my idiot older brother!”

“We couldn’t believe it, the two Halstead boys running across the marina docks completely naked, and covered in blue paint!”

“Hey, I thought it was funny, and I ended up a doctor Jay, and I’ve stitched you up a few times, I’m not so much of an idiot, huh? Nat, c’mon, it’s not that funny.”

“Yes it is!”

“Y/N.”

“What? It is!” Another round of laughter peeled out from you, Natalie, Owen, and Martin’s daughter Josie as Martin continued to make gestures. “It took us a good minute to round them up. Me and Miriam, mind you, Pat just sat in the boat. Your mom was laughing so hard by the time we caught you both.”

“Please tell us more stories, Martin. That was REALLY funny.”

“Owen! You want to hear more embarrassing stories about me?”

“They’re funny!”

“Alright, well you heard the little man, Martin, more stories.” Will and Jay sighed, tried to relax, and resigned themselves to their fate. Their girlfriends and surrogate son/nephew were going to hear every single embarrassing story that Martin had. Which was a lot considering he was their father’s childhood best friend, had spent most of their summers around him, and he had a memory like a steel trap. “Don’t worry Jay, I’ll still love you after this, I promise.”

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seasonofthewicth · 4 years ago

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 3

masterlist

AN: This took me so long because I wasn’t sure whether to split this chapter in half, I ended up doing it so I think it flows a bit better and hasn’t become a monster of a chapter. Things are starting to get a little juicy!!

-----

The next two weeks flew by in a blur as Aelin settled in to her new normal. She had spent days debating how to arrange the furniture in her bedroom, enlisting Fenrys and Aedion multiple times to move her bed from one side of the room to the other and back again until she was satisfied with its placement.

She had managed to put her personality into the boring room, its brick walls spiced up by colourful wall hangings and the wooden beams of the ceiling offset by drapes of dangling plants across her shelves. She felt at home in the loft.

Her moving into the communal areas had been more of a struggle. Rowan and Lorcan protested her attempts to cover the sofa with her hand-made quilts but they had relented once Fenrys and Aedion had expressed their support.

“We don’t want it to be too much of a guys’ apartment,” Aedion had admitted.

When Lorcan had protested that it was a guys’ apartment with a not-so-subtle smirk at her she had lobbed one of her throws at his head. He had caught it and his smirk spread to a full blown grin, but he tucked it onto the arm of the couch, nonetheless. She supposed it was actually a progression of their relationship that she knew he was teasing. The past two weeks had shown her that most of his snarky comments were joking, whether or not their delivery seemed as such.

She had learned many new things about all of the guys in the loft since moving in. She had thought she had known all there was to know about her cousin, and they had always got along, but she was delighted to find that they had quickly become as close as brother and sister. His eager personality paired him well with Aelin’s outgoing nature.

The only issue was the frequency that she had ended up sharing her breakfast with one of his visitors, always dressed in one of his shirts or their own dress from the night before. She didn’t judge the girls, she just didn’t need to think about her cousin in that way, although it had surprised her that he hadn’t made any comments to Aelin about Lysandra since their flirtations the day she moved in. In fact, she had expected him to ask for her friends number the next day; but the request never came.

She had watched the two of them on the first night she and Lysandra had visited the bar Rowan worked at. It had quickly become the spot she spent most of her evenings at, the rest of the loft joining too, on the nights Rowan was working.

The bar reminded her of Rowan; dark walls with old-fashioned lamps placed around the room to brighten up the space. The wooden panels around the bar were rustic and worn-looking without being shabby, and it had an easy mix of regular patrons and drop-in drinkers that felt homely and comfortable. Rowan’s attire of plaid shirts fit in as well and while they rotated in their colour they were a guaranteed feature, along with the rag he slung over his shoulder that made him look like such a typical bartender she hid her snigger in her drink.

It was during those nights at the bar that she had gotten to know Rowan the most. The bar was never particularly busy so he could spend most of his shifts talking to her, fixing her sweet cocktails without her even having to ask.

“What else would Aelin Galathynius drink?” He had teased her the first time she and Lysandra had paid the bar a visit. He had even tucked a pink umbrella into each of their glasses.

They had made easy small talk while he worked and she found it fascinating to watch him work, the way his hands would flow across the bar, steady and strong while he poured. He had an easy way of interacting with customers, polite but charming that helped to earn him the tips she spotted him receiving.

She herself had contributed to a large number of those tips, seeing as he hadn’t let her or Lysandra pay for a single drink any of the times they had visited. Aedion, Fenrys and Lorcan didn’t pay either, but none of them seemed inclined to tip, probably a result of having the routine down for years.

She sighed, longing to spend a chilled night in the bar now, but the summer was over and her first day back teaching high school history was upon her. She adjusted her blouse where it hung from her shoulders and slipped on her pumps.

She headed to the kitchen to fix her coffee and was met with Fenrys and Aedion in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Fenrys greeted her around his mouthful of cereal.

“Good morning,�� She greeted in return. “You excited for today?”

“You know it,” He pointed his spoon at her, “Being the most liked teacher in the school really is fun.”

“Right,” She laughed as Aedion rolled his eyes.

“Fortunately, I have to get to my job where I’m also the most liked employee.” Aedion drawled sarcastically. He was the only male employee at a marketing company and he probably would have enjoyed it if any of the women there would have given him a second thought. Instead, to his dismay, he had ended up the little brother of the office.

“I’ll head down with you,” She said collecting her things and waving a goodbye to Fenrys as they headed out.

Once at her car she bid Aedion goodbye and started her drive to the school. From the new loft her school was now an hour drive, it had only been fifteen minutes from Arobynn’s place, but that was beside the point. She could put up with a longer commute if it meant not having to see that monster of a man ever again.

She arrived at the school and pulled into her allocated parking space, grabbing her things she headed into the morning teachers briefing. She smiled at the few teachers she knew as she took her seat, she didn’t have many friends at the school, most of the teachers had at least twenty years on her which made finding common ground tough, not impossible, but she wasn’t desperate to see them outside of the school.

“Morning everyone, welcome back.” The principal started and read the list of notices for the beginning of the school year. She zoned out, these notices were the same every year and she didn’t have any first year classes this semester, so she knew all of the kids she’d have and nearly all of them were great.

“Now, unfortunately I’ve saved the worst until last.” The principal’s voice cut in, interrupting her planning. “The district has let us know we need to make some budget cuts, and we’ll likely be looking to cut some staff in the larger departments.”

Her stomach sank. Shit. That didn’t bode well. History was one of the biggest departments and had one of the largest budgets for the number of trips the students went on to complement their studies. She also hadn’t been at the school for long either, only a couple of years since she qualified, so she’d likely be one of the ones to be cut.

“We recognise that this isn’t great timing but unfortunately the decision has come from the high-ups.” The principal’s apology mellowed her slightly, but she couldn’t fight the element of panic that was creeping in.

Once the principal had finished she left the meeting and traipsed to her classroom. She couldn’t fight the dread in her stomach, it was surely only a matter of time before the principal sent for her to break the bad news. She couldn’t believe the timing, at the start of the school year, just as she was beginning to feel settled in the loft it was all getting shaken up.

-----

The bar wasn’t busy, it never was on late Tuesday afternoons, but there were still a scattering of customers Rowan needed to serve in between chatting with Fenrys who was perched on a stool at the bar. Aedion and Lorcan would likely come through the doors soon, settling in their own stools until Rowan closed up.

It had become their place to hang out once Rowan had got the job there a couple of years ago. It was comfortable and Rowan’s boss didn’t mind him giving his friends a few drinks on the house, Rowan knew he was a valuable employee, he took it seriously, even if it was just bar work to some. It was also nice to spend some time together out of the loft, and he liked that Aelin had joined a few times since moving in, she slotted well into the dynamic.

He was wiping some spilled beer off the top when Fenrys’ question reached him.

“Have you decided who you’re bringing as your date for the weekend?”

His date? The weekend?

“What’s this weekend?”

Fenrys rolled his eyes, used to Rowan’s lack of organisation.

“Essar’s wedding remember, we RSVP’d months ago.” Fenrys’ tone was teasing.

“Right, that. I remember now.” This was something he must have buried deep inside his mind. He knew what Essar’s wedding would mean. All of their college friends would be reunited, himself, Aedion and Fenrys had all received an invitation which meant Lyria would have had one herself. Ah, the question of his date. “I hadn’t thought about it to be honest.”

The door swung open and Aedion slid through, loosening his tie, followed by Lorcan out of his uniform but still in a Rifthold City Police Department t-shirt. As they took their seats he filled their glasses.

“What’s the topic of conversation for tonight gentlemen.” Aedion’s voice was cheery.

“Essar’s wedding, or more specifically our dates.” Fenrys’ eyes sparkled.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, boyo,” Lorcan said to Fenrys, “If there’s an open bar one of you is taking me.”

“Since when!” Fenrys exclaimed.

“Since now,” Lorcan laughed.

“I can,” Rowan offered, but didn’t go any further when he caught Aedion and Fenrys share a look.

“No, my friend,” Fenrys grinned at him, leaning over the bar, “You will take a date. A female date. Someone who will show Lyria you’re over her.”

“Who? I’m not dating anyone and there isn’t long to start dating someone new.” Five days was not enough to find a date he could take as a plus one for a wedding. That was at least a second date activity.

“There’s plenty of time, and if not,” He didn’t like the grin building on Fenrys’ face, “You could always take a fake date.”

“No,” He shook his head, absolutely not. He wasn’t that pathetic. “Absolutely not. What are we? Fifteen?”

“You don’t have to be young to be desperate.” He was going to kill Fenrys.

“You could go alone and show Lyria that if you wanted.” Aedion knew his words would hit Rowan in the right place. “Or you could take a fake date.”

“Who would I even ask?”

Even Lorcan grinned, seemingly caught up on the joke Fenrys and Aedion were teasing him with. Rowan knew his resistance was somehow waning.

“How about Aelin’s friend Lysandra?” Fenrys’ suggestion came far too quickly.

“Stop it,” Rowan scolded him, he couldn’t be serious. He barely knew Lysandra, they had only met twice, and hadn’t ever spoken one on one. But she was an attractive woman, and Lyria would notice. Stop. He wasn’t seriously considering this.

“Maybe I’ll invite Lysandra then. You could always ask Aelin.” Aedion said, enjoying himself far too much.

“Aelin?” He repeated, Aedion had to be joking. He and Aelin were friends now. That would be weird.

Aedion’s response was interrupted by the arrival of Aelin herself, Rowan hissed at them to change the subject as Aelin slammed her bag down and plopped into her seat. Her golden hair was mussed, her ponytail pulling to one side and her cardigan hung off one of her shoulders. It was the most dishevelled he had seen her; she was normally far more put together.

“Pink wine, stat. Please.” Her manners seemed to be tacked on at the end as an afterthought.

“Everything okay?” He asked her, turning to the side to fetch her drink.

She let out a delirious laugh, “I lost my job today.”

The atmosphere at the bar changed immediately, Aedion hopped off his stool to slide onto the one next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Gods, are you okay? What happened?” His voice was full of concern.

“Nothing bad, I wasn’t fired or anything, but it’s budget cuts,” Her voice was thick, clearly more affected than she attempted to seem. He placed her glass in front of her.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry. Drinks on me though.” She offered him a tight smile. The others murmured their own commiserations.

“Thanks.”

“Ace I’m so sorry, is there anything we can do?” Aedion asked gently.

“No,” She leaned into his arm and raised her glass, “Just drink with me, distract me. What were you guys talking about before I arrived?” This brought a smile to Fenrys’ face again as he leaned forward.

“We were discussing our plans for the weekend. The wedding of a friend from college is coming up.” Aelin nodded along as he spoke, taking a large gulp of her wine. “Essar’s family is minted so we all get plus ones, meaning,” He seemed to pause, building his own tension. “Rowan needs a date to show Lyria he’s over her. And seeing as it’s Rowan he might need some help with that.”

He was going to kill Fenrys.

“I’m just going to suck it up. There’s not time to find a date.” He dismissed the idea, this ended now.

“Rowan,” She smiled at him, “Of course you can find a date by the weekend.”

She was being so nice, but all it was doing was adding fuel to the fire for Aedion and Fenrys.

“Thanks, Aelin, but—”

“Ace,” Aedion interrupted him, “Poor Rowan here, is useless at finding himself dates even without time pressure, so I suggested an easy solution to his problem.”

He was going to kill Aedion too.

“He takes you.” Aelin’s eyes snapped to him, her mouth dropping open. “A fake girlfriend, it’s perfect really.” At Aedion’s explanation something changed in her expression that he couldn’t decipher.

He stumbled to put her at ease, “You honestly don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea.” He ran a hand through his hair shakily. This was embarrassing.

“How bad will it be? Seeing Lyria?” She asked, tapping her fingers on the side of her wine glass. Surely she wasn’t seriously considering this.

He looked to the ceiling, hoping to draw some strength from somewhere. “Honestly, it could be pretty bad,” he admitted. There was no point in lying when nearly all of the cards were on the table. “But I would be fine, there’s no pressure.”

She took another sip of her wine, swilling it around her cheeks before carefully swallowing.

“Who doesn’t love a wedding?” She asked, sending him a sly smile. “I’ll show Lyria what she’s missing.”

“You’re sure about this?” He still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. He ignored the grins he knew were likely already on his friends’ faces.

“Why not?” She shrugged at him. “I’m not buying my own drinks though.”

“Deal,” He returned her smile. He really wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Alcohol and playing Aelin’s boyfriend were definitely a dangerous combination.

-----

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

as always if I’ve missed anyone please let me know!

#a groovy kind of love #agkol #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #aedion ashryver #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #lysandra #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #new girl au #aelin galythinius #also i read this over multiple times so if anything isn't right deal with it

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janeofcakes · 4 years ago

Text

It Could Be Us

I'M BACK! Jane is back again!!

Christ, when I said I 'd have my one shot up in no time at all I had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Seriously, none whatsoever. I feel like this has taken longer than posting all of KYFC. Hopefully I got all the formatting right in the end and nothing is confusing.

In any case, here it is at last! It's my Christmas present to you. I hope you all like it. Without further ado or sass, let's get right into it.

-----

The dance floor was already packed as John walked into the club. He had expected nothing less for a Friday night, and a late one at that. It was just after eleven o’clock and the club was in full swing. The lights were low and the bass thumped a steady rhythm he could feel in the floor beneath his feet. It had been a long day at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, packed with patients and an emergency surgery right at the end that kept him late again. He had dashed out of the hospital as soon as he was finished and grabbed a cab to a chip shop around the corner from the club for a quick bite. He came straight to the club after that one detour. He had meant to arrive earlier, like nine o’clock earlier. He could only hope the man he was to meet was still here, or had been here at all. Now the pounding music and vibrating floor rippled electric sparks through his body, making him want nothing more than to join the pulsing throng of people on the floor. He had the burning desire to be free and forget everything, but he had to find someone first. The man of the hour.

John had come at his request because they had not had much time to themselves lately. Both of their jobs had ramped up and meeting together had become difficult. John bit the inside of his cheek in irritation as he scanned the floor. A night in the club, much as he enjoyed their usual haunt, did not mesh with his vision of ‘quality time’.

John puffed out a breath of annoyance as his eyes ran the length of the floor like laser beams tracking prey. Though his focus was razor sharp, it was still a challenge to find any one person amid the countless bodies crammed together in the space, but the man he was looking for was very hard to miss. He was very distinctive in his look and manner. He always put on a show for John’s benefit or was getting into a fight that he never started, as he often declared in a, frankly, obnoxious tone to everyone within five feet. John huffed again. The man he was looking for was decidedly not there and never had been, in spite of his promise.

John grumbled darkly to himself, heading for the bar and the club’s sole proprietor, Greg Lestrade. He and Greg had met some ten years ago and the club was a hotspot even then. Now it was one of the most well-known on this side of London, but still retained its own rustic-city style with brick walls and an antique, solid oak bar. So many others had strayed toward trendy and pretentious, which only made John love this place more.

“Evening,” John said as he approached the end of the bar.

“John,” Greg’s face brightened as he placed a glass in front of a woman who winked at him as she picked it up. He gave her a sort of lop-sided smile he had perfected over the years and then turned his attention to John. “Rather late for you, isn’t it? No work tomorrow?”

“My day off,” John replied with a slight laugh, leaning against the bar and resting his arm on its surface. “I need it. Ten days on and just as many late nights. I feel like the Duracell bunny, but on half full batteries from a Poundland Christmas sale.”

“And many more lives saved,” Greg reached over the bar to pat John’s shoulder. “You’re a credit to the profession.”

“Ta,” John mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush and ducking his head at the unexpected praise. He recovered quickly and gestured haphazardly behind his back. “You’re doing well yourself. Another busy night I see.”

“With me on the floor, no less,” Greg remarked looking out over the dance floor. “I forgot how hot it gets in here. Usual?”

“Ta,” John watched as Greg stepped away to grab a short glass and a bottle of Talisker.

“Sally called in sick,” Greg handed him the drink as John’s brows shot up and his jaw dropped. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” John shook his head, still holding the amber and ice-filled glass out over the bar where Greg had handed it to him. “Not Sally. No way. You’re having me on.”

“Apparently, even The Machine gets the flu,” Greg said by way of explanation. He continued with a shrug. “Who knew? To be honest, I hope it doesn’t spread around. She sounded terrible.”

Greg leaned in and rested his own elbow on the bar’s top as John took a quick sip from his drink. The burn as it slipped down his throat punctuated his mood. He had been in this situation many times before, waiting at the bar with Greg while his boyfriend remained absent, but John would damned if he let it ruin his evening this time. When Greg continued speaking, John made a concerted effort to improve his own disposition.

“Anyway, no one on the short list could make it, so here I am,” Greg grinned and gave a slight bow, “at your service, m’lud.”

“Good for you,” John laughed, placing his drink on the bar. “Keeps you humble.”

“It does at that,” Greg chortled. He watched as John’s eyes scanned the dance floor and the club’s entrance again. The smile slowly faded from Greg’s face as he headed down the bar to sort out some drinks for a few people before returning to his friend.

“You looking for him?” he finally asked, passing John a bowl of bite-sized pretzels. John nodded his thanks and tossed one back, grateful that Greg always remembered he was not a fan of crisps, at all. Greg still jibed John about it. How can you possibly like pretzels and not crisps, John? They are, more or less, the same. Just a munchie to take your mind off things. John’s rebuttal always outlined every last way in which they were, in fact, not at all the same.

“Yeah,” he replied in an even tone, not wanting to fully broadcast his irritation. Greg was perceptive though and John knew it. Damn that man learned too much about people’s tells in all his years of bar tending. “He called me at work and wanted to meet here. We’ve not seen much of each other lately.”

“Right,” Greg drew out the word just enough to convey his disbelief without being an ass about it.

“You seen him?” John asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have not,” Greg said flatly. John pursued his lips and looked away, giving a slight nod as his only confirmation.

“Have you seen…”

“No,” Greg cut him off. The two men looked at each other, brows furrowed in mutual understanding. The muscles in John’s jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth. Greg sighed next to him and John broke eye contact only to look over the floor again in another unsuccessful attempt to find the man he sought while trying with all his might to ignore everything unsaid between them.

“Far be it for me to…” Greg began, but John raised a hand to stop him. There was no need for him to hear it all again. It made no difference. John would wait. Always.

“Then don’t,” he said sharply, meeting Greg’s eyes again. “All right. Just leave it.”

John knew it was defensive and unnecessary. Greg would never in a million years judge him, but to have this happen time and time again hurt. Greg’s words always stung, even though he meant them in the most supportive way possible. John knew he should take them to heart and he did, just not enough to do anything about it. It was true his relationship was far from perfect, but in all honesty, he really did not give a toss. It was what it was and it was easy to ignore what he did not like.

“Sure,” Greg answered after a pause with a look that told John he wanted to say more. He knew John and the whole situation far too well.

“Hey, Bossman,” a man named Roland called from down the bar. Greg and John looked his way immediately to see a bottle in each of his hands and people crowding the opposite side of the bar. “Give us a hand, mate.”

“‘Course, Rol, of course,” Greg straightened and gave John another look before walking away. You deserve better than that piece of shit. We both know and yet, look at yourself. “Be back in a few,” was what he said instead.

John waved him off and took another drink. He watched Greg and Roland mix drinks for a bit, chuckling whenever his friend fended off the flirtations of both men and women alike. The man was an enigma, never showing interest in any gender or persuasion, the ideal businessman. It was really no different from him at Bart’s, John supposed. Still, it suddenly seemed odd that in all the years he had known Greg he never mentioned a partner and John had never asked.

John frowned into his empty glass as if it held all the answers of the universe. Forty-two, as they say. He let out a short chuckle with a slight shake of his head and then a sigh as he turned his stool to look back out at the sea of dancers. Deep in thought, he was not really looking at anything at all until his eyes came into focus on a pair of ethereal blue ones staring back at him. John blinked in surprise and jerked his head back as if burnt. The stare belonged to a tall, impossibly sexy brunette who demanded space in the massive throng of heaving, shifting bodies. He danced like his body was possessed by the music itself. His limbs and movements appeared graceful, elegant and effortless in spite of the speed and vulgarity of the hip hop track that filled the air. His white shirt glowed in the blacklight above him, drawing more attention to the V of his neckline that was nothing less than a delicious, scandalous temptation where two buttons left undone exposed his pale throat. His black jeans hugged every sharp edge as well as the curve of an ass that had no right to be as plush as it was for a thin frame such as his.

John snapped his mouth closed quickly, unsure of how long his lips had been parted in wonder and awe. Too long judging by the smirk the man gave him with that sidelong glance as he continued to sway his hips. God, he did it with such skill it was obscene and John could not stop himself staring. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and took a sip of scotch. John had seen this man here before quite a few times and he had seen him go into the back offices with Greg almost every time. He had even seen them leave together and yet, John had never asked Greg about it and Greg had not volunteered. John had simply not thought it any of his business. Now John wondered why he had never stopped to consider this one exception to Greg’s rule.

When John’s eyes came to rest on him again, he blinked and blinked again in shock. That man, that gorgeous man with legs a mile long and cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself with was absolutely not dancing his way toward John. He was decidedly not staring at John with his mesmerizing and other worldly eyes. John’s mouth went dry again and he blinked once more for good measure, his brain seizing utterly. He watched, unable to look at anyone else as the man left the floor and swept up to the bar next to him. The man gave John a knowing smile and studied him with a sultry, but intensely intelligent gaze. Dumbfounded, John could only look back at him with wide eyes and will his own brain to work again before he truly proved himself a complete idiot.

“Hello, John,” a deep baritone, all dark chocolate and velvet rumbled from the man’s chest. John’s lips parted and he nearly gasped, but swallowed it down along with his surprise. How the hell did this man, with perfect cupid’s bow lips, know his name? “I’ve seen you here before. We have a friend in common.”

John stared at him, eyes shining with unanswered questions. The smirk he got and the tilt of the man’s head, curls bouncing in the direction down the bar. Greg. Of course, Greg. He must have told this mysterious man John’s name. The doctor tilted his head as well, unable to look away from that angular face now framed by soft, dark curls as their owner tilted his head upright again. Suddenly John’s heart skipped a beat as his mind caught up with the conversation. Did that mean this dazzling beauty had asked Greg about him?

“My name is Sherlock,” that voice continued and John fought with himself not to melt on the spot.

“Hi,” John forced his voice to croak out. “John.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock’s lips curled upward as his eyes studied, no read John’s face. John felt like this clever man could read his entire life with a simple glance, much less the current scrutiny. John stared like a moron as his mind caught up with the situation at hand and he closed his eyes in regret. He had just spluttered the most idiotic introduction to a man who already knew his name. God, he was so stupid.

“Sorry, sorry,” John blurted, opening his eyes to see that Sherlock had perched himself on the bar stool next to him. He seemed to have finished sizing John up and also appeared to have no intention of leaving. “I was… It’s nice to meet you.”

“You come here often,” Sherlock stated, his eyes sharp. Goddamn if he did not have the longest lashes John had ever seen.

“Greg’s a good friend,” John answered. Finally his brain seemed to be back online and able to communicate. “And I like the club.”

“And you like to dance,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth crooked up slyly.

“You’ve seen me dance?” John asked, a little startled. This lithe specter of the dance floor had noticed him? Sherlock just replied with a satisfied and very amused expression.

“I’ve seen you too,” John continued, finding his usual confidence again. “You’re very good.”

“As are you,” Sherlock stated. He rested both elbows on the bar and laced his fingers in between, a calculating edge to his gaze. “You’re here alone.”

John’s body grew tense in an instant. His mouth pressed into a thin and serious line.

“You’re usually here with that detestable little man who drinks too much and yells at the other dancers,” Sherlock ignored the sudden change in John’s demeanor.

Instead of being angry at the slight, John eased up and huffed a laugh in spite of himself. He could feel the muscles in his body relaxing just as quickly as they had tightened and marveled for a moment at his reaction. He began to study Sherlock more intentionally.

“Yeah, that’s Jim all right,” John laughed again. “My other half.”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock nearly choked on his words. He clearly had not deduced the full extent of their relationship. Maybe Sherlock had not asked Greg about him after all. John’s heart sank a little. Then he saw Sherlock’s eyes fall to his left hand, looking for a ring then. John’s heartbeat sped up just a bit for that gesture alone.

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled awkwardly.

“Think nothing of it. Jim can be a real dick when he wants to be,” John reassured him with a friendly smile. “Takes a while to warm up to him.”

The skin beneath Sherlock’s eyes contracted slightly as he looked at John thoughtfully. The doctor could tell there were a myriad of questions turning circles in his mind and he was trying to pick one to start with. Rather than wait for it, John decided to counter with one of his own. One that was much on his mind at the moment.

“You usually leave with Greg,” it was not a question, but John’s voice rose with it as though it was. His Machiavellian expression made sure Sherlock understood his meaning, the underlying question in John’s uttered statement. The man was completely unphased by John’s directness, smiling and huffing a quiet laugh as he threw a handful of pretzels in his mouth.

“We’re flatmates,” he clarified with an easy shrug and then added after taking in the change in John’s features: “Yes, just flatmates. We keep each other honest.”

“Oh?” John tilted his head, interest peaked by that casual statement. “What does that mean?”

“I make sure he leaves this place once in a while and he makes sure I sleep on occasion,” Sherlock smirked, holding a pretzel between his index and middle fingers.

“Alone?” John asked mischievously and Sherlock snorted, obviously quite amused.

“Yes, alone,” he confirmed with a good-natured nod. “I don’t do romantic liaisons or spend meaningful moments with people.”

Sherlock’s face pulled itself together as if John had told him to bathe in the Thames for the foreseeable future. A smile instantly appeared on John’s face and he huffed a quick laugh as he watched the man before him.

“My time is far too valuable to spend it with such frivolities and imbeciles,” the brunette continued with his nose wrinkled as though the steak and kidney pie had gone decidedly off.

“And why is that?” John leaned further onto the bar, extremely interested now. He was not sure if it was because this man was a friend of Greg’s or just that he was so damn interesting, but John thoroughly enjoyed teasing him and was not about to stop. Maybe being in the club on his own tonight was not so bad after all. “What is it that keeps the great Sherlock…”

“Holmes,” the man supplied when John paused, the dramatic effect it created not lost on either of them.

“...Holmes so busy?” John extended his hand to wave with a flourish between the two of them. Sherlock watched him with smiling eyes and a dazzling grin on his face.

“I assist the police when they are out of their depth, which is always,” Sherlock answered, growing quite serious. “I am a Consulting Detective.”

John could see the cautious pride shining through the haughty answer.

“Yeah? And they pay you for sticking your nose in?” was the first thing that popped out of John’s mouth. God only knows why. He was not usually such a tease, nor such an idiot. He watched the flicker of hurt slither over the brunette’s expressive face and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from repeatedly hitting his head against the bar counter. Nothing like opening his mouth and inserting his foot all the way down his own throat, he mused of his actions, especially considering he was in a somewhat relationship with Jim and all, but there was something about this man. It was something so powerful and too complicated for John to understand just yet.

“Yes, as well as private clients,” Sherlock remarked sharply. His brow wrinkled in confusion, creating a ridge across the bridge of his nose that had John holding back a smile. “Why wouldn’t they pay me?”

“Uh, no reason. I just.. I’ve never heard of it before,” John replied slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I should think not. I invented it,” Sherlock said haughtily, the pleasure obvious in his whole body. A sudden laugh burst from John’s lips, taking both men by surprise. Sherlock’s features were just beginning to harden when John caught his breath to speak.

“That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, clapping the taller man on the shoulder and beaming at him with bright eyes, their depths growing even more blue with his merriment. “It sounds amazing.”

He pulled a now stunned Sherlock in so their heads were close together. Their faces only inches apart, John eyed the man with an almost childlike excitement.

“How do you do it?” John asked in a tone that bubbled with enthusiasm. “Are you a psychologist or a profiler or some mad genius who uses his power for the greater good? You know, all tall, dark, handsome and broody, but really on the side of the angels?”

John chuckled at his own quirkiness and somehow knew Sherlock would understand his sense of humor perfectly. Sure enough, the man’s mouth curled into a knowing smile and he cocked a brow. The expression made John think of Loki, God of Mischief himself. His chest gave into a tingling squeeze and he delighted in the pleasurable shivers rushing over his head and back.

“All of the above,” Sherlock said simply and John laughed heartily, his head ducking in even closer to Sherlock’s.

“I don’t doubt it,” John chuckled. He met Sherlock’s eyes. “I’d love to hear about it. Somewhere else,” he took a steadying breath. What the hell was he doing? “Quieter so we don’t have to yell.”

John’s eyes bounced to Sherlock’s lips for a brief moment and his gut clenched. Before he could beat himself up for blatantly flirting, their eyes locked and he saw the answer in Sherlock’s before he heard the confirmation in his words.

“I know a restaurant not far from here,” Sherlock replied quickly and decisively. “It’s open late and I know the owner.”

“Did you help him with a case?” John blurted with ardor.

“I got him off a murder charge,” Sherlock answered in amusement, his rumbling baritone honeyed with satisfaction. John gulped, so caught up in the sheer brilliance of this man. There were a thousand questions in John’s mind and he wanted to ask every single one as soon as they could get out of the club with its loud beat, blaring music and tons of people.

“Absolutely! I’d love to...oh,” he stopped himself mid-sentence and his face fell, coming to his senses before getting far in his reply. Releasing Sherlock’s shoulder and straightening up, John remembered why he was here tonight. Jim was the whole reason for even being in the club. He could not just leave.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” John muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the din. Disappointment shown thick on his face and in his tone. “I’m meeting someone.”

Sherlock made no reply and simply watched as John lowered his eyes to the floor. Damn it, John wanted to go with this man. He needs to go with this man, but it would not be right. Oh, fuck it all. Fuck Jim and whatever he may think. He was always sneaking around with Moran anyway. Let him think John was sneaking around for a change.

No. John dismissed that as soon as he thought it. That was not why he wanted to leave the club with Sherlock. John had no interest in making Jim jealous. He just wanted to spend more time with the fascinating consulting detective. My god, John wanted to learn all he could: his work, how he had conceived of it, how he met Greg, everything. John had never been so drawn to a person in his life and was more than a little pissed off to have met him tonight when he was here waiting for fucking Jim Moriarty to show up.

“Dance with me,” Sherlock said suddenly when the tempo of the music changed and echoed around them. John blinked at him, the words bringing him back from his thoughts. Sherlock was serious. He knew why John was at the club, who he was waiting for, and he was serious.

“I can’t,” John’s voice was dull, but his face was full of surprise. “I have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Sherlock replied steadily, not backing down.

“But I’m waiting for him,” John told him dumbly with an exasperated sigh. Nothing like abandoning any attempt at being articulate.

“No one should ever keep you waiting, John,” Sherlock said with conviction. John tucked his chin, turning his head slightly, but kept his eyes on Sherlock. A crease formed on his forehead and his brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around this man. He clearly knew far more about John than John did of him, either from Greg or his own deductions. It was also clear that he was very keen on spending more time with John. The doctor was both dumbfounded and thrilled by this knowledge.

John opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were so many things John wanted to say and could give voice to none. The words just hung there in his mind and refused to become the sentences he needed.

“I could be your boyfriend,” Sherlock’s deep voice halted John’s mind completely.

“What?” John struggled to understand. “But I have…”

“He isn’t here,” Sherlock cut him off in a soft but firm tone. John looked at him with unabashed confusion and disbelief. Sherlock swallowed and placed a hand on John’s. The doctor stared at it with wide eyes that shifted back to Sherlock’s. “Just for this song… I could be your boyfriend.”

“I shouldn’t. I…” John looked into his eyes and everything stopped. John did not even hear the music anymore. Sherlock’s eyes were... mysterious. John had thought they were blue, but now they appeared silver, green, blue. They seemed to shift with every thought that passed through that brilliant mind. How had John never noticed before? Simple, really. He had never been this close to Sherlock before and certainly never thought he would be. John was always here with Jim, and Moran and the whole entourage. Naturally, he danced with Jim, but his eyes had always found Sherlock.

Sherlock on the dance floor with his long, elegant limbs and swaying hips. Such amazing hips. He could move like no one John had seen in real life and it was captivating. Lithe and smooth, every step and swoop and shift in perfect alignment with the music. Sherlock effortlessly danced to any song or genre and Greg’s DJs liked to mix it up too. From hip hop to techno via pop or the 80s. They were even known to throw in slow songs so patrons could relive their high school prom nights. Jim always wrapped his arms around John and snuffled into his neck during those songs. John had tried to do the same, but his heart was never in it, especially during the last few months.

John and Jim had started growing apart a long time ago. They were happy once and for quite a while, in fact. They met when John was still in med school during the A&E rotation. Jim was working in construction and had sliced a substantial gash in his forearm. They hit it off while John stitched him up and Jim asked him out before he left for home that night. The rest, as they say, was history.

A few months in, they began staying the night in one another’s flats, but did not even think about moving in together. John could not explain why, and Jim had asked regularly, but he was not ready for such a big step. It was something that would truly bind them together and John was not certain he wanted that. Two years later, John was out of school and already a skilled surgeon. Jim had climbed the ranks quickly and now owned his own construction company. Then Sebastian Moran came into the picture. Jim had hired him as an assistant. It was a typical occurrence for John to put in late nights or be called in for emergencies, but then Jim started working late too. John thought nothing of it at first, but it did not take long to figure it out. In spite of his somewhat jealous nature, John said nothing. It was easier to let it go and just make excuses to Jim about why he could not stay nights at John’s flat.

John first noticed Sherlock at Greg’s club a year ago. John was there with Jim and a slow song had just started as Jim began to pick a fight with a rather large and nasty-looking man. John pulled him onto the dance floor and tucked his chin to his own shoulder to calm him down. A few bars into the song and John’s eyes had found Sherlock. He was wrapped around another tall man, both equal in height, all the parts of their bodies lined up perfectly for the dirtiest dancing John had witnessed in a long time. He had tried not to watch them, but could not stop himself. Sherlock, still nameless to him at that time, was simply captivating.

John noticed him on the dance floor a few more times after that night and Sherlock was always dancing with a different man. This new knowledge had befuddled John. He had assumed Sherlock and the tall man were together, but that was clearly not the case. He started paying more attention and his hunch was confirmed every time he saw Sherlock at the club. That was when John started to keep track of who Sherlock left the club with and it was Greg. Only ever Greg. He had wanted to ask Greg about it so badly, but never did. He respected his friend’s privacy and part of him did not want to know whether or not Sherlock was attached to anyone in general, or to Greg in particular.

Whatever their relationship, John could not stop noticing Sherlock when he was on the dance floor and he carried the guilt of it wherever he went. He should not, should never lust after a friend’s boyfriend the way he did after Sherlock, but there were Sherlock’s arms lifting and swaying, lowering slowly and gracefully. Then his undulating hips and his ass, that gorgeous, plush ass in perfectly fitted jeans, swishing and thrusting to the beat. God, it was like watching pornography and now Sherlock was here, right in front of John and not at all with Greg and asking John to dance with him. It was unbelievable, and John was about to say no. Why the fuck would he say no? Why when part of him had secretly hoped for this exact scenario to occur one day?

“Okay,” John said suddenly in a voice that did not sound like his own.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, making them sparkle a decidedly silver sheen and a brilliant smile spread across his full lips. He offered a hand and John took it, allowing himself to be led onto the floor. As they found a place within the other bodies around them, piano chords rang out through the club and a pure tone began to sing lyrics so ironic that John could not help but smile.

In the faded light you touch my body

I can feel your hands on my skin

Think you got me right where you want me

But you’re just in my way.

John and Sherlock both swayed skillfully, waiting for the tempo to pick up and for the playful chorus to kick in. Sherlock rolled his shoulders to the music, snapping his head back with the flare of a flamenco dancer at just the right moment. His curls floated through the air for just a moment as though defying gravity’s bonds and then fell artfully around his face as he gave John a cheeky smirk. John could not help and laughed as the song broke open and they both began moving to the faster beat. The music and lyrics wrapped around them as they pulsed their way through the two men’s bodies and minds.

I came to party on my oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-wn

Don’t need nobody in my so-oh-oh-oh-ng

I get down to the beat, I lose contro-oh-oh-oh-l

Hey, oh, I go so-oh-oh so-oh-oh-lo

Both men reached their stride as the chorus and the fun continued. John popped his chest to the beat, moving his bent arms in counterpoint and shifting his weight with what the rhythm provided. Sherlock’s hips swayed with his dancing feet and he lifted his hands above his head.

Boy, you can cool it dow-ow-ow-ow-ow-own

Not here to fool arou-ow-ow-ow-ound

Just wanna dance, dance, dance

Dance, dance, dance

They started the song a respectable, casual distance apart, as any two new acquaintances would. Clearly still dancing together and that space was maintained throughout the duration. Honestly, John could not care less because dancing like this, to have fun and be free was exactly what he needed. It felt so liberating to just move without feeling the urge to prove something to himself or to Jim, and dancing Sherlock just felt right. Really, really right. Even though they had only just met, John had already begun to feel as though their actual introduction had taken place a long time ago.

Another song began that was one of John’s favorites and he let out a hoot as the faster beat took hold of his body. He switched his weight from one foot to the other, turning his body to match, sometimes twice in the same direction before changing.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don’t care if you think I’m dumb, I don’t care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I’m the girl you’d die for

John’s moves intensified as the verse came to an end and he began to mouth the words in anticipation of the chorus, giving Sherlock a cheeky grin as he did it. The man matched his expression and movements beat for beat.

I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

I’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch

John was enjoying himself so thoroughly, he almost did not notice Sherlock slowly closing the gap between them. It was not a huge shift of the space between them. Sherlock was not suddenly up in his business, grinding against his leg, but he was closer nonetheless. The tips of John’s ears prickled with heat and not just from the dancing. His whole body was hot with it. A burning deep inside of him, just like the feeling low in his stomach was not so much from nervousness as it was from anticipation of what was yet to come. Would Sherlock inch even closer? Did John want him to? Goddamn right he did.

There was no fade out. One song moved seamless and fluidly into the next. This one took them into a heavier beat and a more forceful step. The drums and velveteen rough voice brought the floor into a darker place and the lights went down to match it. As if reading John’s mind, Sherlock stepped closer to him almost as soon as the song began. He lip-synced the words and drifted around John where he danced. The mysterious and sultry look on Sherlock’s face pulled John’s eyes in as he moved. As the first verse neared its end, Sherlock’s fingers scraped across John’s chest and lingered as they slid around to his back. The doctor’s skin tingled along the trail of Sherlock’s hands, the touch powerful in spite of the fabric between them. John’s mind jumped in his skull to thoughts he never would have anticipated when he walked into the club: God, to feel Sherlock’s skin on his. Nothing between them, no clothes, no air, no space. It would be electric. John swallowed back a groan as he continued to watch those silver-green eyes take in his every movement. Shit, the man could probably read his mind.

Since I thought you and me

Well, I am imagining a dark lit place

Or your place or my place

Well, I’m not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you

I wanna make you move because you’re standing still

When the chorus began, both John and Sherlock leaned forward toward each other. John’s lips parted and new droplets of sweat bloomed at his hairline. Not just from the dancing, but from the desire pooling in his belly and the thoughts taking root in his mind. John quickly lifted a hand and wiped his forehead in an almost unconscious gesture. He had never eye-fucked someone so hard in his life and every bit of the effort was reciprocated.

If your body matches what your eyes can do

You’ll probably move right through me on my way to you

Their faces were dangerously close again. John could feel Sherlock’s breath ghosting over his face and he found himself wishing, hoping for the other man to do something. They pulled away to stand side by side, staring into one another’s eyes before moving in different directions to curl their bodies in identical fluid motions. They met again a moment later, back to back and angled in the same direction, their cheeks pressed together. John pushed against the taller man and he leaned into John as they slowly dropped low and raised up again, snapped their heads back and broke apart to dance in their own idioms again.

Sherlock rolled his hips and head, fingers sinking in his hair. John was dancing just as enthusiastically, but also completely mesmerized. He had not felt anything like it in some time and he did not even try to stop it. It was the feeling of attraction and one so strong he gravitated toward it like a moth to a flame. His life was suddenly full of possibility and so intoxicating John could never turn away. He and Sherlock fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. There was no denying it, but did Sherlock feel it too or was John just another person on the dance floor?

Suddenly the lights went up and a new song filled the club. Sherlock turned his head toward John and he felt the puff of Sherlock’s hot breath on his neck. A shiver traveled down the length of his spine and he hoped Sherlock had not noticed, but was quite certain he had. To John’s great delight, Sherlock seemed genuinely pleased with what he saw.

“I believe I misjudged you, John,” Sherlock called over the noise around them, his face every bit the smug bureaucrat who is too posh for his own good. John raised his brows in response, an unspoken question on his lips. He wanted to take whatever Sherlock was about to say seriously, but how could he possibly do it when he had that look on his face? Sherlock continued in a very superior tone, barely keeping the corners of his mouth from quirking upwards. “You’re a much better dancer than I expected.”

A wide grin spread across John’s face as Sherlock began to chuckle. He shook his head a little and laughed with the snarky detective. Without a thought, he reached up and cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck, tugging his face down until it was close to his own. John looked into his eyes, wide with surprise, and moved in closer. Their cheeks brushed as John pressed his lips to the taller man’s ear and the sensation weakened his knees.

“You’re amazing,” John uttered with nothing less than awe. That was not quite what he had meant to say. Then again, what had he intended upon saying? John pulled back, biting his bottom lip in embarrassment, unsure of how to explain that one away. Sherlock’s cool eyes looked back at him without a hint of reproach as a deep, melodic voice boomed over the floor.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Sherlock’s hands found John’s waist and they began to dance in a slow shift. They moved their bodies so one shoulder was forward and then the other. By the third line, they had separated so they could better move to the solid beat and bright trumpet sound, but remained connected by holding one hand or even both.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

I can’t help falling in love with you

As the river flows gently to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Sherlock lifted John’s hand high to draw him in and used his other hand to guide John into a quick turn so his back ended up flush against the front of Sherlock’s body. John pulled Sherlock’s hand down and caught hold of the other one too. As the music swelled, John rested their hands on his hips and they ground together, bending their knees a bit and inching down lower. John tilted his head back to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder, closed his eyes and nearly moaned.

Some things were meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you

As the song continued, the other dancers and the club with its lights and noise fell away. Suddenly, John and Sherlock were the only two people for miles around. It was just them and the music. They danced and danced and the song seemed to go on forever. John turned to face Sherlock, their bodies still close together and hips moving as one. John looked into those grey eyes, sparkling and bright, and completely lost himself in them. They were not the eyes of a stranger he had just met or someone he had seen from across the club, but those of a friend. A friend he had known for years and who knew John as well as he knew himself. Those eyes filled John with comfort and a longing to go to that restaurant Sherlock had suggested, leaving Jim behind for good. Of all the time John had spent with Jim, he could not think of a single one when he saw this much in his eyes.

John blinked when he felt Sherlock’s hands rest heavily on his shoulders. The man was still swaying in perfect time with John, who must have been on auto-pilot, but wore a look of mild concern on his face. Sherlock tilted his head as if to ask “You okay?”. John grinned sheepishly and nodded as the music swelled one last time. Both men, as well as everyone on the floor, threw their hands up and sang.

I can’t help falling in love with you

No, I can’t help falling in love with you

The close of the song bled right into the next one. Without missing a beat or pausing for awkwardness, Sherlock held one of John’s hands to his chest and slid the other around the shorter man’s waist, taking the lead. John put his hand on Sherlock’s hip, flashing a sly smile and effectively stealing the lead. Sherlock laughed and followed John as he set the pace for their steps. Around them, the whole dance floor began to relax after the long stint of nothing but fast and furious. Many headed for the bar to make Greg’s night incredibly harried once again.

John’s throat was dry and his body covered with a sheen of sweat, but he was not about to move an inch from where they stood together. He was truly glad and even excited for the time to touch and study this man. The music swells and ebbs away with them swaying to it. A soft fade set the stage for the signature voice of Spandau Ballet to begin.

So true, funny how it seems always in time, but never in line for dreams

Head over heels and toe to toe

John’s chest opened and it felt like all the force of Sherlock’s feelings rushed in, like when an anime character is enveloped with light and energy.

This is the sound of my soul

This is the sound

There was no question in John’s mind that what was happening to him was the same for Sherlock.

“So what do you do for the police?” John asked. It was a question of many, not all pertaining to what “consulting detective” meant, but it was as good a place as any to start. “What does a ‘consulting detective’ do?”

“I see the evidence no one else can,” Sherlock answered after a pause. “I make the connections immediately and tell the police what to do next, where to go. I read people.”

“Read people?” John’s brow rose to his hairline. “What? You mean you can tell what a person is thinking?”

“More like who they are,” Sherlock replied. “What they do and where they live. What their motivations are. That sort of thing.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at someone?” John’s lips parted in a smile of disbelief.

“Yes. Let me show you,” Sherlock turned his chin and looked out at the people around them. “Look at that woman at the bar.”

“Can you be more specific?” John laughed, but looked anyway in the direction Sherlock pointed with his head. “There are quite a few.”

“The one in pink with the dark hair and flashy belt,” Sherlock directed John’s eyes until his gaze settled on a middle-aged woman holding a martini. She was laughing at something the man with her, clad in a trendy-cut white suit, had said. He tapped his G & T against her glass in a toast.

“The one with the husband in the tacky suit?” John inquired and cringed. “He must glow in the dark when the blacklights are on.”

“Not her husband,” Sherlock corrected, his tone flat. John’s brows shot up again as he met the detective’s sharp eyes.

“I’m listening,” John said cooly, but with extreme interest.

“She lives outside of London and travels in more often than necessary for business, which she does actually do while here so she doesn’t feel as guilty, but she mostly comes to see him,” Sherlock explained in a confident tone. He sounded as if he was reading a book. It could not possibly be something he just made up on the fly and John was captivated. He watched Sherlock’s face as it flowed from one expression to another. “They favor this club because no one who knows them typically patronizes dance clubs. Not to mention the atmosphere lends itself well to a certain anonymity for all its patrons.”

Sherlock stopped a moment to insert a turn in their dance, in spite of the fact that he was not leading. John followed along with a quiet chuckle. Sherlock added a series of steps that ended with them closer to the edge of the dance floor, but still far enough away from the bar and the couple they were watching. Dozens of people talking and laughing at tables separated them. Even if the woman or her lover looked out to the dance floor and saw Sherlock and John, neither would think anything of it.

“Her daughter died recently,” Sherlock said. “In the last four years and she has taken up with this man to start a new life, but can’t let go of the old one. She doesn’t love her husband anymore, but feels she would lose what little of her daughter she has left. She clearly shared physical characteristics with her father, likely the eyes and nose. Seeing them in her husband’s face brings the woman comfort.”

John’s forehead crinkled with doubt, his lips curling into a skeptical smirk.

“How could you possibly know all that?” he cocked a brow and tucked his chin, pulling away from Sherlock slightly for a better look at him. “You’re having me on. You just made that up.”

“On the contrary, John,” Sherlock leaned his head in and gazed directly into John’s eyes with his pair of intense, calculating ones. “I not only see, but observe. I use this place not only for the pleasure of dancing and the delight of Greg’s company, but also to hone my skills. I observe the patterns, the evidence, and draw conclusions. I am never wrong.”

“Okay,” John stumbled over his own thoughts, trying to comprehend, “but how can you know all that from just…”

“Tonight?” Sherlock interrupted. A sly grin spread across his features and he shook his head slowly. “You forget that I’m here nearly every time you are and more. This place is a hotbed of experiments for me, an opportunity to sharpen my skills and occasionally solve a case.”

John’s eyes widened slightly, intrigued with both the mystery and the man himself. John’s tongue darted over his bottom lip and he noticed Sherlock’s eyes flick to them momentarily before explaining his deductions.

“They never arrive together and one waits for the other in a different, inconspicuous place each time,” Sherlock continued. “She gives him a hotel key card each time so she doesn’t have to bring a handbag. They leave together and always in the same direction, presumably to said hotel. There is a pale ring around the third finger of her left hand where the rest of her skin is tanned. She never takes off the bracelet she wears and it has a single charm that is actually the heart-shaped pendant from a child’s necklace.”

John glanced at the woman laughing again with her partner as he considered Sherlock’s words.

“Their pattern of frequency and the days on which their meetings occur suggest visits to the city for business and he is clearly not a colleague,” Sherlock added.

They watched as the man leaned in for a gentle kiss that she reciprocated. The couple appeared to be very taken with one another, very much in love, not desperate to get out of the club and into bed like new lovers. As if reading his mind, Sherlock leaned in to whisper in John’s ear.

“They have been involved for quite some time. You can see it,” he muttered. The soft wisp of his breath made John shiver and he turned to face him, their faces dangerously close.

“I could explain further, but do you really need me to?” Sherlock asked, his eyes flicking to John’s lips again.

“No,” John breathed. He shook his head slightly, staring at Sherlock agog. His mouth hung open a moment longer before stretching into a smile. “That was...amazing.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched and he pulled back to steady his gaze on John. The doctor’s grip tightened slightly in response as if determined to keep the man right where he stood.

This much is true.

This much is true-oo-oo

“You really think so?” Sherlock’s brow creased with confusion as John studied his reaction. It was positively endearing, perhaps because it was so unexpected. Sherlock had obviously made his deductions to impress, but still seemed genuinely surprised by John’s response. He was not used to being praised for his abilities, which told John all he needed to know about some of the assholes at New Scotland Yard.

“Yes,” John grinned up at him, pulling back a bit as the song came to an end, “of course. That was extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people usually say,” Sherlock mumbled after watching John for a moment. The next song increased in volume as the last one faded away. The prom-themed dance continued as John’s cheeks tinted at the thought that he and Sherlock were a couple. He hoped the detective had not noticed as he asked the next question curiously.

“What do people usually say?” John wondered, trying to divert attention from his pink cheeks. Too quickly, but Sherlock made no sign that he had noticed.

“Piss off,” he replied and John could not help but burst into laughter. Fortunately, a smile bloomed on Sherlock’s face as well, a glint of mischief and genuine amusement flickering through his eyes.

“Well, believe me, it isn’t. It’s bloody brilliant, that’s what it is,” John remarked as he changed their step slightly to fit with the new song. John took both of Sherlock’s hands in his and stepped back, putting more space between the two of them. Their arms outstretched, fingers laced together, they mirrored one another’s movements and smiles as a cheerful voice filled the club.

When people keep repeating that you’ll never fall in love

When everybody keeps retreating, but you can’t seem to get enough

Let my love open the door

Let my love open the door to your heart

“Do someone else,” John urged, his voice full of excitement. He looked around quickly to find someone with a tale to tell. His eyes fell on a tall, thin man with disheveled brown hair that fell to his shoulders in layers. His chin and cheeks were covered by a full beard and mustache that betrayed his age with shades of grey, as did the lines around his eyes. He was dancing in a group with four other people, but more or less on his own. There was something about his appearance, his jumper and corduroy pants that made him look like someone who wore an aluminum foil hat at home.

“Do him!” John exclaimed, jerking his head to his left. Sherlock’s amused gaze followed and picked out the man instantly. He looked back at John with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk.

“Accountant. Recently subscribed to a conspiracy theory that the company he works for is secretly financing an investigation into the death of John Lennon, who he believes is still alive and hiding somewhere in Yorkshire,” Sherlock stated as his feet took a step forward and back to the rhythm. He pulled John in a bit so they were closer when John gave him a stunned look. “There is no investigation, of course, and Lennon is most certainly dead. Not so in the mind of our friend with the beard, which he grew for his lover.”

John’s eyes widened.

“Affair with a colleague,” Sherlock said by way of explanation. “Her husband won’t grow facial hair and she likes the way it feels on her nether regions.”

A burst of laughter popped from John’s mouth before he could stop himself. It was so loud that he quickly pressed his lips together again and glanced toward the man for fear of drawing too much attention and giving them away. He need not have worried. The club was far too noisy for anyone to notice. Sherlock smirked, his eyes bright with amusement.

“He is concerned she will discover his suspicions about the company and Lennon and dump him,” he finished triumphantly. “There’s more, of course, but those are the highlights.”

“That’s…” John began as every part of his face brightened with delight, “unbelievable.”

He jerked their hands down to their sides, pulling Sherlock into his personal space and fixed him with a smoldering gaze.

“You have to explain how you know all that,” John nearly growled, “but later. Do someone else now.”

Sherlock’s criminally full lips quirked and his eyes warmed at the challenge, revealing shining flecks of green. For the next few minutes, Sherlock selected the most interesting subjects from the people around them and revealed the various secrets of their lives. Most were fairly normal with a few stranger outliers. It was all fantastic as far as John was concerned. From the boring Tesco clerk who snuck crisps and biscuits while stocking the shelves to the florist who taught her parrot to say ‘fuck you’ to troublesome costumers, John soaked in every word like a sponge.

By the time Sherlock finished, they were well into another song. It was the third in a string of songs that couples could use to their advantage, which meant there would be one more and then faster songs would rule again. John and Sherlock would have to part and dance further apart again. It was the last thing John wanted.

They had moved in closer again, seemingly unable to be apart for any length of time. They were not pressed together like the other people around them, but John’s hands rested comfortably around Sherlock’s waist and Sherlock’s fingers were wrapped around John’s biceps in a tender embrace. Their steps had turned into something more like a mere shuffling of feet as the great detective spoke quietly and John laughed or did double-takes. Everything about it was delicious and there was not a thought in John’s head that was not about this man.

John leaned forward to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s chest. He felt Sherlock’s breath falter and straightened again in a shot. He stared at Sherlock while internally berating himself for spoiling the moment. He swallowed hard, his mind searching for words and coming up empty. To his relief, their stilted movements grew more easy and relaxed as they listened to the lyrics drifting around them.

I never thought I’d lay me heart on the line, but everything about you is tellin’ me this time

It’s forever, this time I know and there’s no doubt in my mind

Forever, until my life is through

“You really are brilliant,” John said sincerely. He bit his lip as he watched Sherlock’s face slip from one expression to another. It was not the best thing to say and John had meant to say Sherlock’s deductions were brilliant, but he could not take it back and part of him did not want to.

A very big part.

“Do someone else,” John suggested lightly. Sherlock looked relieved and he let his eyes wander all around, looking for the next subject. John pressed his lips together and licked them with trepidation, never taking his own eyes off the taller man. “Do me?”

Sherlock’s expression changed in a heartbeat and his relaxed posture tightened into stiff muscles. His smile vanished, becoming a clenched jaw with muscles working beneath the skin. John felt the open door between them slam shut. Sherlock released his hold on John’s arms and began to step away. Shit, John was not entirely sure what he did wrong, but he had to make it right.

“John…”

“Hey, no, no,” John grabbed Sherlock’s wrists so he could not disappear in the mass of people on the floor. John knew that Sherlock would make sure John never saw him again unless he wanted him to. Panic creeped into his voice as he continued. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to… I just… Don’t go. Please.”

He studied John with more than a little hesitation, but did not try to pull away again.

“I can’t,” Sherlock said in a shaky voice. He pressed his lips together, curling them in on one another. “People don’t like hearing my deductions. They don’t like that I know their secrets.”

“But they’re blindsided, Sherlock,” John ventured. “I’m asking and I think it’s fantastic. I do. It’s amazing.”

“John, I…” Sherlock ducked his head and then met John’s eyes. “I don’t want to drive you away.”

“You won’t,” John answered, face open but decisive. He gave Sherlock’s wrists a squeeze. “Please.”

They looked at one another in silence for a long moment, both gauging the other. Standing still in a sea of moving bodies.

I see my future when I look in your eyes

It took your love to make my heart come alive

‘Cause I lived my life believin’ all love is blind

But everything about you is tellin’ me this time

It’s forever

“You’re a doctor,” Sherlock began to say. His words were slow and careful. John gave him a warm smile and started swaying again. He let go of Sherlock’s wrist to slide a light hand to his waist and Sherlock obliged by moving closer and resting his own hand on John’s shoulder. John nodded in encouragement for him to continue. Sherlock eyed him with apprehension as he opened his mouth to speak.

“A surgeon, in fact and a skilled one at that. You consult with patients, who appreciate your bedside manner, but are also the first they call for emergencies,” Sherlock paused, looking more comfortable and resolute. He pressed on. “As a result, you spend a great deal of time at the hospital. St. Bart’s.”

John’s eyes widened and he wondered how Sherlock could know which hospital. He did not ask, unwilling to interrupt the brilliant man before him.

“You keep a rather modest flat, despite being able to afford more because you don’t see the point in having something extravagant. You spend little wakeful time at home,” Sherlock was on a roll now. The impressive line of his shoulders was relaxed and his jaw loosened. “You could change your hours, of course. You haven’t been at Bart’s long, but have the clout to do it already.”

Sherlock hesitated, studying John carefully. John knew immediately that Sherlock was not looking for more information. He had all of that already. Sherlock was assessing the damage his words might do to their budding friendship, or romance?

“Go on,” John prompted casually, trying only a little to hide his excitement at what Sherlock might say next. His words seemed to settle something inside of Sherlock and he continued.

“You don’t want to change anything about it though,” he stopped and studied John with great interest, the skin beneath his eyes contracting in thought and recognition. “You have a boyfriend and for some time, in fact, but you don’t live together by design. You were close once. Now you can count the number of times he’s been to your flat in the last six months on both hands. You have been to his more, though still not often and you never to stay the night. You have not been intimate for at least a year, but still enjoy spending time together as friends and you’ve wondered if that might not be the better route,” Sherlock sounded as though he could not stop himself if he tried now and John felt a little hot under the collar. The mad genius was definitely going to explain how he knew all of this.

“You even suspect he is seeing someone else. He has increased the time he spends with a certain friend, especially in the last four months, but you have done nothing to alter your relationship,” Sherlock gazed at John for a long moment, obviously seeing his growing irritation. His lips parted in what might have been an apology, but instead Sherlock spoke firmly. “He is not cheating.”

John’s body jerked back a touch at that, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Not physically anyway,” Sherlock clarified and actually looked a bit sad, “but an emotional connection really is more of a betrayal.”

With that, both men were silent. John’s eyes were still wide with shock, his lips parted. He searched for something to say, but did not think he could speak if he tried. There was no way Sherlock could know all that, especially about Jim. He could not possibly...and yet, John believed him. He let it wash over him as he and Sherlock continued to shuffle their feet. They moved slowly, nothing like their energetic dancing earlier in the night. John considered Jim, thinking about things he had avoided for months. Staying in the relationship, such as it was, made no sense and was not fair to either of them. It was not what John wanted and yet, whenever John thought about the time Jim spent with Moran it angered him, but why? Jim deserved to be happy as much as John did and if that was with Moran, then so be it.

“But now…” Sherlock’s voice pulled John back to himself and the dance floor where he had been moving by rote. His eyes focused back into the here and now, and he blinked at Sherlock’s thoughtful gaze. “You may have found someone else who’s worthwhile. A reason to change.”

Sherlock’s words stopped abruptly, as did their movements. Couples holding each other close swayed around them, but did not bump into them somehow. Sherlock’s body was rigid to match John’s, his face startled and filled with dread. He knew he had said too much. All of it was true, of course, right down to the notion that John was toying with the idea of asking Sherlock out on a proper date, but to say it aloud with so much presumption, because there could be no doubt as to who “someone else” referred to. Sherlock had inserted himself right into John’s life with the ease of that one comment and was clearly petrified John would be angry, insulted even. They had only just met, after all.

“It could be us,” Sherlock blurted suddenly. John half wondered if the man knew he had said it out loud, but his wide eyes and scarlet cheeks told John he did. “I could be yours, if you would be mine.”

Sherlock fell silent again, his lips clamping shut as though they had acted of their own accord and he had finally managed to regain control of them. John stared into his horrified face and blinked. The initial surge of anger John had felt began to drain from his body, not even replaced with shock like Sherlock. To his surprise, John felt completely at ease and something he had not experienced in months sparked at the back of his mind: the warm glow of happiness. It bloomed through his mind and filled his body with light energy that John readily embraced.

He looked at the man in front of him with wonder. He felt as though he had known Sherlock all his life, despite knowing virtually nothing about him. It was a feeling, a touch. John’s hand found Sherlock’s where it hung at his side and opened his mouth to speak.

Yeah!

The voice rang out sharply over the mass of people eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd. Prom time was over and everyone sprang into action, including Sherlock. Wanting to erase his words and the awkwardness from John’s mind, he raised his arms straight up and moved his lithe body in an obscene wave timed perfectly with the rhythm. He threw his head back at the next “Yeah” and when his gaze fell on John again, it was searing. John stood watching in shock. He could not comprehend the sudden change in Sherlock’s demeanor. As John struggled through the confusion and lingering awkwardness, he opened his mouth to speak, but was rendered speechless when Sherlock took a step closer. He lowered his arms, fingers skimming along his body as they went and resting on his own undulating hips. He turned his back to John, looking over his shoulder with those smoldering eyes, swinging and rocking his lush ass. He was just close enough to barely bump into John’s groin, filling him with a teasing pleasure.

His mouth watering and cock twitching with interest, John leapt into the perfect accompaniment to Sherlock’s sultry moves as another voice began to sound.

Up in the club with my homies, trying to get a lil’ V-I

Keep it down on the low key

You should know how it feels

Sherlock popped his body to the beat, looking every bit the king of the dance floor. He was like a six foot tall snake slithering both elegantly and suggestively into John’s space and out again. It was the hottest goddamn thing John had seen in all his life.

She’s saying, come get me

So I got up and followed her to the floor

She said, baby let’s go

When I told her (let’s go) I said

Yeah!

The cry set John’s body alight with an unexpected energy. He stepped right into Sherlock’s personal space and they popped together, their bodies skirting the line of what was appropriate in public. They turned and leaned and undulated in unison, turning up the heat as they did so. Sherlock dropped in front of John with his back to the doctor and rose again thrusting his perfect ass against John’s groin. John moaned out loud. The sound disappeared into the noise of the club and the music, but Sherlock heard. His head was cocked to the side so he could watch John with a saucy smirk as he continued to grind against him. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pulled him tight. They swayed in tandem as they worked their way across the floor. Sherlock’s back was hot against John’s chest, his hands aflame where they rested on John’s.

God, it was amazing. Caught up in the excitement, John’s mind flew forward to more nights with this man dancing and talking about his cases. So distracted by his own thoughts and simultaneously focused on their movements was John that he did not notice how close they had come to the edge of the dance floor until the crowd surged and pushed them against the wall.

Sherlock had just turned to face John when two rather rambunctious couples collided with the doctor’s back, shoving him into Sherlock. The detective hit the brick wall with a thud and it knocked the breath from his lungs. John was pressed tightly against him, the other couples still right behind his back. Sherlock gasped when John’s hand cupped his face.

“God, that was hard,” John said breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he blew out a quiet breath that drifted over John’s lips. He was so close. His face was almost touching Sherlock’s. His lips were so close. John could tip his head forward mere millimeters and his mouth would be on Sherlock’s soft cupid’s bow. God, it would be life-altering. Lips so soft, so perfect, and they would move with John’s. He knew they would.

John swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip. He slowly moved his hand from Sherlock’s cheek to his shoulder to ease the clenching of his own heart. As if on cue, the couple behind him pushed at his back once again and John lurched into Sherlock. His lips brushed over the detective’s and his eyes fluttered closed, seeing stars. He felt Sherlock’s fingers tighten around his biceps and a soft answering pressure on his lips. A surge of lust and joy rolled over him for just a moment before reality set in again. John’s eyes snapped open in an instant as a touch of panic filled his body from head to toe. Sensing his distress, Sherlock leaned back and allowed John to pull away as far as the space would allow. They locked eyes and stopped. Just stopped.

John felt Sherlock’s hands slide off his arms to his waist and then fall away. He stared in shocked disbelief into Sherlock’s face. He may have shared John’s surprise, but the heat in his eyes had sparked to life again. He panted onto John’s lips. John ventured a quick glance at them and a surge of adrenaline shot through his chest to his stomach and limbs. It was a combination of lust and honest affection. John was almost lightheaded with it. He looked back at Sherlock and his brow furrowed at what he saw. Disappointment shadowed Sherlock’s eyes and creased his forehead. The corners of his mouth angled downward.

“Your boyfriend,” Sherlock rasped, nodding his head toward the bar. His mouth was still so close to John that the sigh he let out drifted over John’s lips and the doctor was loath to look away. What he saw drained that wonderful, tingling, incredible adrenaline rush from his body.

Jim Moriarty was standing at the bar with Moran and talking to Greg. John stepped away from Sherlock as though he had been caught at something and turned to face the bar fully. He watched for a moment as Jim laughed at something Greg said and then once more when Moran added a word or two. It clicked in John’s mind: a decision. His life would be forever changed.

With his focus on what he needed to do, John made his way across the dance floor. His stride was steady and determined as he went and people seemed to just move out of his way like he was parting the Red Sea. John was at Jim’s side in seconds. Moran noticed him first and stepped closer in challenge, but backed up again in a swift movement. There was a look of being caught out passing over Moran’s features for just a second before his expression turned cool and indifferent, but John saw and it heated his temper. John also saw Greg’s smile fading and his eyes flicking out to the dance floor.

“John, you’re here,” Jim said in a pleased tone that would have fooled anyone else, but not John. Jim leaned in for a kiss, but John turned his head and angled away. Jim frowned and then shook it off, resuming his typical swagger. “Greg wasn’t sure he’d seen you.”

John glanced at Greg, who gave him a pointed look. The corner of John’s mouth turned up. He would never reveal his friend’s lie. His eyes slid smoothly back to Jim and his smile tightened.

“Got here when you said we’d meet,” John said sharply. His tone was more harsh than he had planned, but he had truly grown tired of repeating the same scenario over and over.

“Yeah,” Jim put on an apologetic face, “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Are you?” John replied with barely concealed annoyance.

“Steady,” Moran warned, taking a step closer and puffing up his chest.

“Piss off, Moran,” John barked, standing to his full height and entering the man’s personal space. Moran had a good six inches on him, but John did not give a shit. He never liked Moran. Part of John had always wanted to punch the sneer of a smile off his face, but he had avoided the temptation. John might just make an exception tonight.

“John, no,” Jim’s hand was on John’s chest and he pressed in as close to in between them as he could. “It’s fine.”

“It really isn’t,” John scowled, directing his glare to his boyfriend. No, not boyfriend. That was not what he wanted.

John moved away from them and turned to look across the dance floor. Sherlock was gone. John turned his body to face the mass of people fully, a pang of alarm shuddering through his body. His eyes darted around the club, but found nothing. Finally, his focus settled on the door just in time to see a long, swooshing coat topped with a head of gorgeous curls swoop out into the night air. Sherlock must have stashed the coat somewhere before introducing himself to John. John’s heart clenched painful in his chest like a piece of it had been wrenched out. Sherlock had left and John would never see him again if he did not hunt the man down right now.

“You’re right,” John said suddenly, his mouth curving up. He looked back at Jim and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It is fine.”

Jim stared at him inquisitively. He tilted his head curiously and cocked a brow, seemingly about to speak. John cracked a mirthless smile and squeezed Jim’s shoulder.

“It’s been over a long time, yeah,” John said definitively. Jim’s expression changed instantly. He pressed his thin lips together and inhaled deeply, a long centering breath. He glanced down for a moment and gave a slight nod of resignation.

“Yes,” Jim met John’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” John answered, removing his hand from the man’s shoulder. “We’ve already moved on and it’s better this way.”

Jim glanced at Moran as he nodded in agreement. John stared straight ahead, not even seeing them anymore. His own words ringing in his ears. ‘Already moved on’. John had to keep a certain consulting detective from moving on and that meant he needed to get the fuck out of here now.

“Great. See you around,” John muttered, turning his back on them. He set off in an instant, a spring in his step and a grin on his face.

Well, I will call you darlin' and everything will be okay

'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine

Doesn't matter anyway

In the night, we'll take a walk, it's nothing funny

Just to talk

The words rang out in the air around John and he increased his pace until he was running for the door. He burst through it and stopped in the middle of the pavement, looking right and left almost frantically. He was not there. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. It was dark even with the streetlamps, but the tall man should have been visible. John looked both ways again. There was not a single figure on the abandoned streets. There were plenty of cars passing by though. John’s shoulders began to sag as it became clear that Sherlock must have caught a cab. John chewed on his lip in disappointment and stared out into the street. It was too late. He had missed his chance.

John did not have much time to feel sorry for himself. As he stood there staring at a sizable puddle at the edge of the street, a fast-moving cab splashed through it and sent a wave of dirty water over the front of his body. His eyes flew shut in the onslaught and he gasped out an “Oi” that the buildings around him swallowed whole.

“Fucking hell!” John shouted, looking after the cab. He lifted his arms and shook them slowly as he looked down his own body. He was soaked and filthy. A cab would never take him in this condition. He sighed and muttered angry curses as he touched his dripping shirt. His trousers were just as wet, and cold. Jesus, it was cold. It was going to be a long walk home.

“John?” a silky baritone called from somewhere close.

John’s head snapped up, his wide eyes immediately finding a lone figure standing across the street. The corners of John’s mouth quirked up, his foul mood instantly lifted. The tall man in the swooshy coat was unmistakable. John felt light and his heart soared, even as his throat closed. He could not seem to get a word out, so he just stood there grinning like an idiot. He watched as Sherlock made a few quick deductions and scowled.

“Don’t be an idiot, John,” he shouted, feet set and shoulders squared. “Get over here.”

John glanced up and down the street, letting a car pass and then jogging across the traffic lanes. He splashed through a puddle or two on the way. Droplets sprayed through the air and caught the light of the streetlamps like sparkling diamonds in the night sky. In mere seconds, he stood in front of Sherlock with a grin still on his face as the detective scanned his soaked form with an air of disapproval. John knew he would not ask how it happened, knowing he had deduced it all already.

“You left,” John remarked pleasantly, the joke plain in his voice. Sherlock had none of it, remaining stone faced and cocking a brow.

“You left to be with your boyfriend,” he said petulantly. Sherlock managed to mostly conceal his sneer as he said the last word. John could not stop his quiet chuckle at the man’s jealousy.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” John shrugged as he casually took a step closer. Sherlock’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“But you…” Sherlock stopped himself, rapid deductions visible on his face. His whole expression changed: eyebrows shooting up with hope, silver eyes gleaming, and his lips beginning to curve upward. “Oh.”

“Oh,” John repeated playfully with a quick raise of his brows. “Is that restaurant still open? I’d love to hear about your cases.”

“Not a chance,” Sherlock gave a single shake of his head and huffed a laugh. “Angelo’s well on his way home by now.”

“Oh,” John’s shoulders sank and his face fell as disappointment filled him. He scolded himself silently for just abandoning Sherlock on the dance floor without a word. My god, he was so stupid. John was certain by now that it looked like he was stalking off in a jealous rage. No doubt watching from afar only confirmed it when John got angry and snapped at Jim. Honestly, what the fuck had John been thinking? He had every intention of kicking Jim to the curb when he started across the dance floor and then with Moran there being all possessive and Jim doing his typical song and dance, John’s anger had gotten the better of him until he finally snapped out of it. ‘Be right back’. That was all he would have needed to clue in Sherlock, but John had just stomped off. Jesus Christ, he was an idiot.

“Angelo would have been hesitant to let you in in that condition anyway,” Sherlock’s words pulled John back from his own thoughts. The detective still had a hint of a smile on his face as his beautiful eyes ran the length of John’s body. “You’ll never get a cab and will catch your death walking for an hour.”

“How do you know it’d take me an hour?” John asked, feeling his mood lighten.

Sherlock just cocked a brow, his expression screaming ‘Come now, John, don’t be dull’. A smile broke over John’s lips and he tucked his chin down with a quiet self-deprecating laugh. When he looked up again, Sherlock’s amusement was easily apparent and he had taken a step closer.

“We’ll go to my flat,” the detective announced with equal measure authority and cheek. “We can wash your things over tea. My clothes won’t fit you, but I have something that will work. Provided I can sneak you past Mrs. Hudson, which I can.”

“What is she? Your school marm?” John snorted.

“My landlady,” Sherlock corrected. “She fancies herself an adoptive mother, but not my housekeeper.”

John laughed again at that and rested his hands on his hips. He looked at Sherlock with fond eyes, dancing inside that he had not bollocksed up the whole thing, and trying not to let his imagination run wild at where this might go.

“And what about Greg?” John teased. “Think he’ll mind having a guest in the flat?”

“Not if it’s you,” Sherlock replied with a glance towards the club. “He might not even know without me to pull him away from this place.”

John laughed and gave a nod at that.

“So,” John began slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was giving Sherlock’s proposal serious consideration and not bouncing off the walls with excitement, “tea and cases at yours then?”

“That is what I’m suggesting, yes,” Sherlock confirmed, all seriousness and formality as though it was a business transaction. John felt a sudden tingling wave of anticipation envelope his body and he nearly shivered from the unexpected pleasure of it. He tried to keep the smile from being so wide as to give away his every thought, but knew he failed completely. To his delight, Sherlock mirrored his emotions as soon as he saw them on John’s face.

“Oh god, yes. I’d love to,” John blurted, lifting his hands from his hips and holding them out slightly, not sure how to contain the ecstatic energy within his body. John watched as Sherlock did the impossible: His smile grew and warmed into true fondness. John’s heart gave a squeeze as they began to walk down the pavement together, the sound of music fading away as they went.

Put your hand in mine

You know that I want to be with you all the time

You know that I won't stop until I make you mine

“So, what was your latest case?” John asked eagerly, ignoring the chill creeping under his skin.

“I hope you know, John, that this is not going to be one-sided,” Sherlock told him sternly, ignoring the question. “I want to know everything about your cases as well.”

“My cases?” John questioned. He had not expected that. His profession did not seem nearly as interesting as the detective’s.

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock confirmed quickly. “Naturally nothing that would compromise patient confidentiality, but the work and advice of a skilled surgeon would come in very handy. Maybe even at crime scenes, if you’re willing.”

“You can do that?” John stopped walking in shock. Sherlock stopped a pace ahead and turned to look at the doctor.

“Whatever I need to solve a case,” he answered simply.

“They really give you a wide berth, don’t they?” John’s smile snuck back over his lips.

“They do, yes,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up.

“So, like a consultant,” John stated experimentally.

“A partner,” Sherlock replied just as tentatively and brushed his fingers delicately over John’s in an unmistakable gesture.

“Yeah,” the word was out of John’s mouth before he could even think. “Yes, please. I’d love it.”

John nearly face palmed. So much for not slamming all of his cards down on the table without even bluffing. Fortunately, Sherlock was not bothered by his enthusiasm in the slightest. He flashed a brilliant smile and gestured ahead. The two men began walking and talking, occasionally brushing hands as they went. By the time Sherlock opened the door to 221B on Baker Street, John knew this would be the relationship to end them all and he would forever be at the side of Sherlock Holmes.

-----

And there you have it. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

I want to thank my wonderful beta, MyBreadAndButter, and wish her well. Hang in there. The year's almost over and I can only believe 2021 will be a damn site better. I also want to thank my fabulous friend, superwholocklmt, for stepping in when I needed to pick yet another brain on this one. You are the Sherlock to my John, without a doubt. Last but not least, I want to thank my my ever so knowledgeable friend, underestimatemethatwillbefun, for two of The Best song ideas. I'd never heard either of them before, but knew they HAD to be in this story once I listened to them. You are awesome.

Dang, I'm not sure what to say because there can't be any questions for the next chapter. Ha! I'm totally out of my element. I'll just throw a little update your way then, shall I? I'm just starting work on another story that I'm hoping to post early next year. It is another 'What comes after season 4' piece. Like in 'Finding John Watson', I'll be changing some of what happened in S4. Just a little something to whet your appetite: Mary is still alive. She and John moved away, possibly to Sussex, before she gave birth to Rosie. They cut off all contact with Sherlock and haven't bee in touch with anyone else either, but now John is moving back to London. Will he run into Sherlock or seek him out? What's that meeting going to be like? Rushing into each other's arms or a fistfight similar to when Sherlock returned from the dead? We shall see....

I hope you all enjoyed your present and can enjoy zooming with relatives for the holidays. I know it's not the same, but it's still one of the most joyous times of the year. I'll be thinking of all of you and sending all the love I can. Thank you for being such great readers and fans. It's always so heartwarming and humbling to read your comments and share your joys. I don't know what I'd do without sometimes.

Happy Holidays from Cakey Jane and, as I sit looking at where Deadpool hangs next to my daughter's unicorn on the Christmas tree, let me say again: Keep your pants dry and your dreams wet, and remember, hugs not drugs.

Love, Jane

#johnlock #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #john watson #sherlock au #johnlock au #sherlock dancing #john dancing #sherlock's ass

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