#gotta keep up the cool guy front in public but around his partners he trusts them without the front

[transsweet]

the cap'ns shades being prescription hc is so funny bc i can just imagine he forgets to tell sweet and k_k that they are and k_k puts them on one day just for fun and yells down the shop DAMN YOURE BLIND!!!!

[p-artsypants]

Integrity- Chapter 8

Ao3 | FF.net

Monday morning rolled around with a cool, all encasing fog. The gray mist that settled in between buildings, blotting out sunlight, and casting a refreshing coolness on everything blanketed underneath it.

It was glum.

Ladybug had escorted Gabriel to the police last night, as they had planned. Though he was drunk, Gabriel was well behaved. This allowed Ladybug to convince the Police to stay quiet about his arrest. Of course, it was inevitable that the media would catch wind of it, and it would be all over the news. 

But she just wanted to have a few days to prepare to announce it herself, and to give Adrien some time with his mother. 

He hadn’t come home last night, not that she expected him too. He may be gone for the rest of the week. Maybe longer. She couldn’t blame him for staying away. 

She just missed him already.

“Hey Marinette,” Alya greeted warmly. “Where’s Sunshine? He’s gotta get rid of this fog!” 

“Yeah dude, where’s my dawg?” Said Nino. 

Marinette smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. How much truth could she spare? This was Rena Rouge and Carapace after all. Surely they were trustworthy. Would Adrien mind?

“Um…he’s with his mother.” 

Nino and Alya just stared at her, dawning horror creeping on their faces. 

“He’s dead?”

“No!” Marinette scrambled to explain. “No, no…We found his mother yesterday. Well, he found her a few days ago, but we couldn’t do anything about it until last night.” 

Alya blinked a few times. “Okay girl, you lost me. You often lose me, but this is like—a whole other dimension. Can ya back up a touch?”

“I’ll tell you guys everything after school, but you have to promise me not to tell anyone.” She leaned closer. “This is just as secret, or even more so, as your secret identities.” 

Alya rapidly blinked again. “Wh-what?! What are you—how do you—What!?”

“That’s all I’m saying for now.”

“You can’t just leave us there!” 

“That’s all that’s safe to say here. Just...just trust me. Okay?” 

Alya took a long breath. They’d been through this before. Her trust was constantly being tested by Marinette. The absences, the tardiness, the forgetful ‘oh I have to go water my hamster’ ness. “Girl...I did trust you. But...are you going to finally explain what’s going on?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell you everything. If you’ll just be patient with me.” 

Alya exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay. I think that’s worth it.” 

They travelled together upstairs and into the classroom, where several other students milled about quietly. It seemed they hadn’t recovered from the turmoil from last week. 

Faces turned to her, weak smiles in place. Sincere enough, but lacking luster. She didn’t really blame them. She felt like that too. 

After some time, Miss Bustier arrived, and settled everyone in their seats. 

And then there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in.” 

Miss Bustier invited in the devil, and the mother of the devil. 

Lila. Lila was here. 

“Hello, Madam Rossi, are you vouching for Lila’s tardiness?” 

“On the contrary,” the woman said coldly. “Lila won’t be attending your class anymore, or this school, for that matter. But before we leave, I wanted to make sure she apologized to those she wronged.”

My my, what an interesting turn of fate. Lila stood in front, arms crossed, and full of spite. 

“Where’s Mr. Agreste?” Madam Rossi asked. 

“He’s not here,” Marinette supplied. “He’s visiting family.” 

“Ha!” Said Lila. “That proves it! If he wasn’t guilty, he’d be here!” 

“Hush, Lila. I’ve heard enough from you.” Her mother spat. “You, what’s your name?” He looked at Marinette. 

“Uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” 

“Marinette—first of all, I want to apologize to you and your mother. She called me with concerns and I blew her off. In fact, I didn’t know there were any problems until I received a court summons at my workplace. Not only was my daughter lying to me about her after school activities, but she lied about the school being closed to take an extended vacation!” 

There were scoffs of disgust from around the room. 

“Mama...” Lila whined. 

“I said be quiet, child. Your lying has gotten too far out of control and I’ve had enough of it. It’s time your friends knew the truth. And you’re going to tell them. Now.” 

Lila swallowed. “Um...I didn’t actually go with my mother abroad for several months. I was at home. I told her the principal was akumatized and the school was closed.” 

“Now, about Marinette?” 

Lila groaned. “Marinette was right. I didn’t bully her at all. I made all that stuff up...” 

“And regarding Adrien Agreste?” 

“Adrien...never touched me. I lied. I was mad because I was fired from Gabriel for harassing Adrien.” 

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” 

“No.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Madam Rossi huffed. “What do you have to say to Marinette?” 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“For lying.” 

“Not good enough, Lila. Try again.”

Lila hissed, like apologizing was actually, physically painful. “I’m sorry for tattling on you to your mom. And I’m sorry for trying to get you expelled.” 

Marinette pushed her luck. “...and for turning my friends against me?” 

“AND for turning your friends against you.” 

Eh. Good enough. 

“Now, Marinette,” said Madam Rossi. “Lila must apologize to Adrien, but she’s being sent back to Italy right away. Will you record it and make sure he sees it?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” Marinette took out her phone and turned on the camera. “Ready when you are.” 

Madam Rossi nudged her daughter in the ribs. 

“Adrien...I’m sorry I lied about you touching me. I’m sorry I lied to get into modeling with you. And I’m sorry I kissed your cheek without permission...and I'm sorry I spied on you.” With a little shrug, that’s where she ended it. 

Marinette stopped recording and leveled a glare at Lila. “You’re not really sorry, are you? You wouldn’t think anything was wrong if your mom wasn’t here making you apologize.” 

Lila didn’t answer, but her dead-eyed glare spoke volumes. 

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Oh you think you’re so smug! Just because my lies caught up to me first! But you’re just as much as a liar as I am, aren’t you, little miss goody goody?” 

Maybe she was being petty. Maybe it was adrenaline. Or maybe she really didn’t like being called a liar. 

Either way, she held back just long enough to look in her purse. 

Tikki gave her a firm nod. 

Time to be selfish. 

“Tikki, Spots on.” 

In a whirl of pink, Ladybug sat in Marinette’s seat and the room went dead silent. 

Except for Alya, who was making some choked wheezing sounds. 

“Happy now, Lila?” Ladybug said calmly. “Yes, I lied, and flaked, and ditched my friends. I hated every minute of it, but I knew fighting akumas came first, and everything else came second. I couldn’t tell a single soul until Hawkmoth was defeated. Not even my partner.” She leveled her gaze on Lila. “But you? You just lie because you can. You have no plans, you just lie and then lie again when someone calls you out on them. You don’t care. You never cared. All you care about is yourself. That’s the reason you got caught. I chose to reveal my secret because it’s safe now.”

“Shut up!” Lila barked. Then she actually threw a punch at the hero of Paris. 

Naturally, Ladybug dodged it like she had been moving in slow motion. 

“You’re the worst! This whole time I thought there were two stuck up, nosy, holier-than-thou bitches in Paris. But now I see it’s only one. You don’t deserve your fame or your powers! I could have had everything! Popularity! Friends! Adrien! Fame! Even powers like Hawkmoth promised me! But you had to ruin it for me! You always ruin everything! I hate you! I hate you!!” 

“Alright, we’re done.” Said Madam Rossi. She wrapped her arms around Lila, as she continued to wriggle and scream. “I see now that Italy isn’t going to be a good idea either. We’ll find a nice, quiet...resort for you for a little while.” 

But Lila just continued her screaming and kicking. Her mother had to forcibly pull her from the room. 

The door shut with a slam, Lila’s tantrum muffled down the hall. 

And then, Ladybug stood there, keenly aware of the actions she had just made in front of all her classmates. Even Miss Bustier was slack jawed. 

“I expect all of you can keep a secret of this magnitude. It would be best if you never even saw me transform.” 

Still silence. But Marinette dropped her transformation and sat down. 

Alya was the only one able to find a voice. “Why now? What changed?” 

“It’s safe now.” Marinette explained. “Relatively speaking. I’m certain that there’s people out there who still want to hurt me. But if we all keep this to ourselves, I see no harm.” 

“What about Lila?” Asked Alya. 

“Well, she does have a track record for faultless honesty. Who wouldn’t believe her?” Marinette said sarcastically. 

“Safe?” Nino asked, finding his voice. “Safe how?”

It was the sweetest truth in the world. “Chat Noir and I defeated Hawkmoth.” 

The sentence was like electricity, jolting the room with excitement, cheers, and hugs. Students scrambled to hug her in gratitude. 

“How?! When?!” Barked Alya. “There was no akuma! How did this happen!?”

Miss Bustier sat at the edge of her desk, resigned that there would be no learning today, but she really didn’t mind. 

“Espionage.” Marinette said, matter-of-factly. “And to be honest, it was mostly Chat. We just officially arrested him last night.”

“Who was he? How did it happen?! I need details!” Alya nearly screamed and grabbed her by the collar and shook. 

“Alya, calm down.” Marinette laughed. “I’d love to tell you all the details, but…I haven’t told anyone else yet. I have to address the public and write a speech…but I don’t even know where to start…”

Miss Bustier clapped. “Marinette! I have an idea!” 

She looked to her teacher, skeptical. “Yes?”

“A writing assignment for the class. You give us the details, everyone will take notes, and we’ll help you write the speech! It would be an excellent exercise for writing from an interview.” 

Marinette paused, crossing her arms and looking forward towards Adrien’s seat. 

Again, the news about Gabriel was going to be public at some point. If she could get it out quickly before the other media beat her to it, she might be able to manipulate the story in her favor. As angry as she was with Gabriel, his motive was fine, and he showed…remorse? Maybe he could be redeemed and maybe Adrien could have his family back one day. 

“As long as everyone promises to not talk about it to anyone, I don’t mind sharing the details.” 

There was another cheer around the class as everyone gathered their phones and notebooks to take notes. 

Miss Bustier clarified for everyone, “If you’re recording Marinette, the video promptly gets deleted after the assignment is over. It does not get posted on any social media, or get sent to anyone. This is for Marinette’s safety, do you all understand?”

“Yes, Miss Bustier!” Called the class, unanimously. After the dreadful behavior with Lila, no one was eager to get on Marinette’s bad side again.

Marinette stood at the front of the room, recounting what had happened, with the smallest twist of having Chat Noir as a separate character. If someone did blab, Adrien’s identity would be safe. 

“Adrien’s the hero of our story.” She began. “Gabriel Agreste was arrested last night at 10:30, coming peacefully and quietly. On Thursday night, he confided in his son, that he was in fact, Hawkmoth, and that his assistant was Mayura. He disclosed his purpose was to save the life of his wife Emilie, who had fallen mysteriously ill. He was under the assumption that the only cure was using Chat’s and my Miraculous. It is unknown where he got this idea from. Adrien was skeptical enough to flag down Chat Noir as he was doing a late night patrol. He explained the situation to my partner. From there, they waited until Monsieur Agreste went to sleep, before stealing the Miraculous off of him. Chat then delivered the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous to me, and further explained the situation. After consulting my resources, we visited M. Agreste and told him it was likely we could still save his wife without the need for our Miraculous. He then willingly gave himself up and apologized. He has been taken into police custody.” 

“Excuse me, Ladybug,” Alya called out, just like in a real press conference. “What happened to Mayura? Is she in police custody as well?”

“I don’t know about that. The police are aware of her involvement, but she was fired by Gabriel earlier this week. She wasn’t with him when he was arrested.”

“Are you going to go after her?”

“No. She no longer has a Miraculous. This is not a job for us anymore.”

Someone else raised their hand, Nathaniel. “How much do you want us to elaborate on Adrien’s involvement?”

“I only have Adrien’s best interest at heart. While I know he’d rather not be mentioned at all, I think it’s extremely important for the media to know that he was not complicit in his father’s actions.” 

“Where is Adrien now?” Asked Chloe, more out of concern than for the assignment. 

“He is with his mother while she gets treated. I won’t disclose that information to the public.” Then she added as a side note, “but if you want to know, ask me later, Chloe.” 

Chloe just took a relieved sigh and nodded to her. It seemed all the previous animosity between her and Ladybug, or even Marinette, had faded with all this new information. 

“Where are the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous now?” Asked Kim.

“Someplace safe.” Marinette smiled. “There’s no fear of someone else getting a hold of them.” 

“Are Ladybug and Chat Noir retiring now?” Asked Rose, full of emotion.

“Ladybug will continue her patrols, and try to help around the city. I haven’t talked with Chat about what he wants to do.” 

Alya raised her hand again, her eyes shining with excitement. “Any chance of auxiliary heroes getting to join you every once in a while?”

Marinette shrugged. “Perhaps.” There was no reason for them to, but with Gabriel behind bars, there was no reason for them not to. “Any other questions?” 

The class was frantically scribbling down notes, but there were no more raised hands. 

“I have plenty of off the record questions!” Alya called. 

“I’ll answer those later,” Marinette asked. 

“Alright,” began Miss Bustier. “These speeches will be due…Wednesday? Does that work for you, Marinette?”

“That should be perfect.”

“Wonderful. Then I won’t be giving anymore literature homework until then, because I want everyone to focus on this. Please write at least one page, double spaced. But more is fine. Ladybug has the right to edit whichever one she picks.” She glanced at the clock. “Goodness, that was almost the whole hour! I’ll give you the rest of the hour to talk among yourselves.”

—

While stories don’t typically have a happy ending in real life, Marinette was happy to note that things were working out nicely. The fog remained the rest of the week as Adrien stayed away from Paris. Juleka, of all people, ended up writing the most articulate, emotional, and accurate speech out of the bunch, and Ladybug presented it at a press conference with the Mayor. 

Stories of all sorts of accuracies came out of it from the media, but conspiracies were loudly silenced, as Ladybug’s speech in full was available to everyone. Gabriel had yet to make any statements of his own, but his lack of urgency only lended itself to the official story. 

It was over.

Gabriel’s trial would come in time, and Ladybug and Chat Noir would both be expected to testify, but the fight against Hawkmoth was over. 

Despite revealing herself to her family and classmates, Marinette felt light. Unburdened, and guiltless. The raised grades were a bonus. 

There was just one thing missing.

Adrien.

It had been a week since he stepped into that portal with his mother. He hadn’t taken his phone with him, but she never received a message from his baton. Not even a confirmation that he made it safely. 

After several days of solid dependence and partnership, she missed him terribly.

Then finally, late one night, she awoke to a flash of light on her balcony. She was instantly awake, throwing open the door to investigate. 

Belle Noir stood there, alone, and looking exhausted. 

“Adrien?” She asked softly. 

“Miss me, My Lady?”

“Unbelievably.”

Adrien dismissed his transformation and dragged himself over to her room. 

“So what happened? How is she?”

“Still asleep.” He landed on her bed, and took off his shoes. “Not likely to wake up for a while still…but she looks better. They told me to go home, since being around her and watching was making me ill.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just need a shower and a good night’s rest. Can I sleep next to you? I really missed you.”

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

After showering and shaving, a nice clean Adrien flopped onto Marinette’s bed. He inhaled deeply. “Hmm, I missed this smell.” 

“Weirdo.”

“Smells like bread and cinnamon and pretty girl.” 

“Do you want to hear about all the trouble I got into while you were gone?”

“All of it…if I can stay awake.”

So Marinette told it all, starting on Monday morning with Lila, and leading all the way up to the speech, which she showed him on her phone. 

“You just transformed? In front of everyone?”

She shrugged. “Not my brightest move, but Lila was accusing me of lying too…I just wanted to get it out in the air. I don’t regret it.”

“Did you tell anyone who I am?”

“Nope. I thought about telling Alya and Nino, but your identity is yours to tell. Or to keep a secret. It’s totally up to you.” 

Adrien had his eyes half closed, the comfort of the bed and the warmth from his girlfriend relaxing him to sleep. “I have some ideas.”

“Care to share?”

“No. Too tired.”

“Okay kitty.” She giggled. Then she shuffled down to lay beside him, before he latched on and nuzzled her. “Hmmmmm My Lady.”

“Goodnight Kitty Cat.”

“Night. I love…”

“I love too.”

—

In the morning, Marinette woke up to an empty bed. For a moment, she worried that Adrien coming back last night had been a dream. But his suitcase was open and rifled through. 

Confused, she got up and got dressed, and then came down for breakfast. 

“Morning Miss Hero.” Sabine said fondly.

“Morning mama…did you see Adrien this morning?”

“I didn’t, but your father did. Said he got up really early to take care of some stuff.

“‘Stuff’ huh? Sounds vague.” 

“I don’t know. But he said he’ll meet you at school. So instead of interrogating me, you can go to class and find out for yourself.” 

“Oh I suppose!” Marinette said, dramatically. Then she took a seat at the table and started pouring herself some breakfast. 

“They’re talking about the Hawkmoth story again.” Sabine gestured to the muted TV. “Some people are calling for a reinstatement of the guillotine.”

Marinette scoffed. “Yeah, maybe if there had been any lasting damage, maybe. But as it stands, no one died, no collateral damage…maybe some trauma I guess.”

“You’re being awfully defensive of the man you’ve been fighting the last year.” 

Marinette shrugged. “I just…want Adrien to have his family back. I know Gabriel has to face punishment, and jail might even soften him up to be a better dad when he gets out. I just want him to be able to have his dad in his life…even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Even after all this, he doesn’t hate his father?”

“I couldn’t say.” 

—

The fog had lifted. The morning sunlight was warm and bright, the birds chirped, the flowers bloomed. Adrien was back in Paris, somewhere, and all was right with the word. 

Marinette almost skipped to school.

Half of her class awaited her by the steps, and when she came into view, they all started calling for her. “Marinette! Marinette!” 

“Carry your bag to class?”

“Carry you to class?”

“Guys guys,” she laughed. “I’m flattered, but you don’t need to keep pampering me. It was fun last week, but we’re cool now, okay?”

“We just wanted to let you know that we were sorry and we appreciate you!” Said Rose, enthusiastically.

“I understand. And I forgive you. The cards, and the back rubs, and the foot rubs, and the manicures…I got it. But I don’t want our friendship to revolve around you guys just worshipping me. And I especially don’t want to be treated like this because of who I am. Let’s just…all go for ice cream this weekend?”

“Fine, but I’m paying for your ice cream!”

“No! I want to pay!”

Marinette chuckled to herself and led the throng of followers into the school. Maybe…one more week of being spoiled wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Have you heard anything from Adrien?” Nino asked, as he asked everyday. 

“Actually, I did! I’m fairly certain he’ll be in class today too!”

Nino pumped his fist. 

“What should we do to make him feel welcome?” Asked Rose. “We were pretty crappy to him last time we saw him. After all he’s been through…”

Marinette looked over the remorseful faces staring at her. They wanted to make things right. 

“I think apologies, hugs, and just being there for him will be enough. I think he’d appreciate affection, but not being treated like he’s fragile. He’s incredibly strong, you know.” 

They all nodded, but she could hear them conspiring with each other about cards and a cake. She wasn’t going to fight them on this. Adrien needed his friends, and sincere ones at that. 

Walking into the classroom, Marinette’s eye immediately fell on the very expensive handbag on her desk. Chloe sat at her own desk, admiring her nails. 

“Is that—?”

“A Hermes Birkin Togo Handbag with gold Hardware? Why yes, it is.” 

“Why is it on my desk?”

Chloe shrugged. “what, that old thing? I got it, but it doesn’t match my wardrobe, so I figured you would appreciate it.” 

“But…this is new this season! It hasn’t even been released yet!”

“Well, it’s old to me. Give it to your mom if you don’t want it. It’s no skin off my nose!” 

Marinette gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you Chloe, this means a lot to me. Especially after all that happened.” 

“Are you talking about my silly little tantrum? Puh-lease. Even I’m not immune to the allure of pretty jewelry. But it won’t happen again, I’m over combs.”

“Well, I’m crazy about this bag, so thank you.” 

Chloe’s mouth twitched before she said, “you’re welcome.”

Alya and Marinette spent the rest of the morning gushing over the bag, because regardless of who it came from, it was a nice bag. Miss Bustier came in and started the lesson.

It was then that Marinette realized Adrien still hadn’t shown up. 

“I thought you said he was coming today?” Whispered Nino.

“I thought he was. He doesn’t have his phone on him anymore either.”

A few minutes passed before a black blur whizzed by the window. It back tracked and Chat Noir landed on the ledge, knocking on the window. 

“Chat Noir?” Miss Bustier asked as Kim opened the window. 

“So sorry I’m late! I was packing up some of my mother’s belongings to take to her later.” He stalked across the room, with Adrien’s bag draped over his shoulder. Then he stopped at Marinette’s desk, before stooping to kiss her on the lips. “Good morning, My Lady. Sorry I left without saying anything. I woke up early and I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“It’s okay.”

“Claws in.” 

And then it all clicked. The class went ballistic. There was screaming, hugs, well-intended punches, and overall excitement. 

Miss Bustier rolled her eyes fondly. “Guess I’ll have to remove your absences too, to be fair.” 

“Oh, sorry. When Marinette told me she revealed her identity to the class, I knew I had to too, and even more dramatically.” 

“You’re such a goober.” Marinette teased fondly.

“But I’m your goober!”

[elysiumwaits]

If you are still taking the fake dating requests: sterek 8? Love your writing

So this actually sprouted two ideas, one of which wound up being 1500 words and the other being a long multi-chaptered one that I started as well but didn’t want to work on today. 

The prompt was: “someone assumed we’re dating but I didn’t realize that’s what they meant until it was too late and I had committed us to a couples’ retreat weekend.”

This is the 1500 words one, which is full of ‘didn’t know they were dating’ and ‘Scott McCall is a sneaky bastard who knows what he’s doing and how to play Stiles like a fiddle’. 

Someone Should Have Told Us

Rated: Teen

(AO3 Link)

Stiles has one major weakness these days. It’s gotten him into a lot of sticky situations, and will probably be the cause of his inevitably gruesome supernatural death one of these days. Right now, this weakness is holding a printed itinerary and talking excitedly about bonding and Allison, and just generally looking very, very happy. 

A weekend at the beach doesn’t sound bad at all, to be honest, even if it means he has to watch Scott and Allison make eyes at each other at this weird mindfulness-alternative-health kind of resort. And, hell, maybe four days of yoga and peaceful breathing will be good for Stiles’ stress levels. Besides, the whole thing is paid for, they’re just looking to fill the ticket, after all, and Stiles has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, like a fool, Stiles says, “Sure,” and then follows it up with, “Sounds like fun,” and “Can’t wait, looking forward to it already.”

Which is when Scott throws the whole conversation from this dimension into what clearly must be a conversation from an alternate universe by saying, “Great! So you and Derek will have a suite in the same villa as me and Allison, but the only thing communal will be the kitchen. There’s this really cool thing about working out past issues with an intuitive and-”

Wait, hold on, back up. Stiles blinks as his brain catches up. “Derek? What… Derek?”

Scott gives him a strange look, like Stiles is just not getting with the program here. “Uh, of course, dude, it’s a couples retreat,” he says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Stiles, like somehow he’s supposed to connect the dots between ‘couples retreat’ and ‘sharing a suite with Derek Hale.’ When Stiles is quiet for just a split second too long, Scott keeps going. “I know you guys haven’t gone public with your relationship yet, which was totally understandable when you were still in high school, but you’re twenty now, Stiles. You don’t have to hide it from us anymore, we already know.”

Scott is patting Stiles’ shoulder and giving him that understanding, sympathetic face. Stiles has no fucking clue what’s happening here, but his brain is desperately trying to make sense of how this has apparently gone horribly awry.

“I’m not…” he manages to get out, but doesn’t actually finish because he can’t even wrap his head around the words ‘in a relationship with Derek Hale,’ let alone his mouth.

“Stiles.” Scott sounds almost disappointed. “We know. The whole pack knows, and we approve. You guys are just better together and always have been. It’s okay.” His phone chimes in his pocket, and Stiles attempts to get a handle on his fucking life while Scott reads a text. “Oh, I gotta head to the clinic. But, listen, we leave tomorrow afternoon to check in around six, so make sure you and Derek are packed and ready by then. It’s gonna be great!” 

“We’ll… we’ll drive separately,” Stiles says faintly, and automatically takes the itinerary that Scott hands him.

“Good idea, you guys can talk about what you want out of the weekend privately then.” Scott pats Stiles’ shoulder one more time before he leaves Stiles to slump back against the door of his Jeep and look around the residential street in the hopes that someone will appear out of thin air and injure him so he doesn’t have to do… well, any of this.

Scott McCall is definitely going to be the cause of his inevitably gruesome supernatural death. Stiles’ days are officially numbered, because Derek is going to murder him. 

-

Derek doesn’t kill him, but instead descends into the same spiral of confusion that Stiles had. Stiles has the express pleasure of watching as Derek’s brain shuts down for an entire ten seconds and then tries to reboot again, like an overheated computer on its last legs. Stiles can relate.

“They think we’re dating,” is what Derek finally says. “The whole pack thinks we’re dating?”

“I honestly think they’ve got the idea that it’s significantly more serious and committed than just dating.” Stiles waves the itinerary around. “I mean… there’s workshops like ‘Sanity in Relationships’ and ‘Releasing the Past through Rewriting Your Love Story.’ This is, like, intense and geared toward couples with long-term plans.”

“We don’t have long-term plans.” Derek sits down on the couch and rubs his forehead in that way he does when he’s starting to get stressed out. “Because we’re not in a relationship.” He looks up then, sharply and alarmed. “Are we?”

“We’re not,” Stiles says quickly. “We just spend a lot of time together.”

“Because we get along.” Derek nods, slow. “We go out to eat a lot.”

“That’s because your kitchen is understocked, and I can’t eat like that with my dad. You always pay.” There’s a dawning horror happening in Stiles’ head. “You never let me pay. They don’t even ask if we want to split the check at the diner anymore.”

“Because I have money and you don’t! It just makes sense.” Derek doesn’t look any less alarmed, though. “You cuddle me on movie nights.”

“You’re warm! I have shitty circulation! You let me!”

“You smell sad when I don’t.”

There’s a beat. Derek is staring at Stiles like he’s just seeing him for the first time, and Stiles completely understands that feeling.

“You keep junk food in your cabinets for me.”

“Your window’s always unlocked, still. I never have to wonder if it will be unlocked, because I just know.”

Stiles sits down on the coffee table in front of Derek, staring at the werewolf. “You listen to my music even though you hate it.”

“I like the way it makes you happy.” Derek sounds distant, unfocused, even though he’s looking at Stiles. “You were here on the anniversary of the fire. You stayed the whole night.”

Stiles nods, slowly. “You fixed my Jeep last time. I didn’t even ask you to, I just told you it needed work and you… did it.”

“You invited me to weekly dinners with your dad.”

“You actually show up for weekly dinners with my dad.” The itinerary in Stiles’ hand crinkles a little in his grip. “The pack thinks we’re in a relationship. I… I think my dad thinks we’re in a relationship. Derek, are we... are we in a relationship?”

Derek is quiet for a long moment, but he doesn’t look away from Stiles. “I don’t trust anyone else in this world the way I trust you,” he finally says, and Stiles’ breath catches a little. “I know, without a doubt, that you are the one person in existence who always has my back.” He looks a little lost, to be honest, like he’s just realizing all of this. “You never judge me, you never ask me for something I can’t give you.”

Something clicks into place in Stiles’ mind. “You’re the first person I think to call when shit hits the fan. Not because you’re badass and scary and you have the whole teeth and muscles thing going on, but because I know that if I call, you’ll come.” They’re close - Stiles on the coffee table and Derek on the couch, their knees practically touching. Stiles swallows, and finally breaks the intense eye contact. “Sometimes,” he says with all of his courage in his throat, “you do something badass or heroic or smash through a wall or punch someone who wants to kill us, and I get this really intense urge to kiss you.”

“It’s really hot when you show how smart you actually are.” When Stiles looks up, Derek still hasn’t looked away. “Like, everyone knows you’re smart, but when you do that thing where you fit all the pieces together and figure everything out… I don’t know, it just makes me want to throw you against the wall and-” Derek cuts himself off, going bright red. 

Stiles crumples the couples retreat itinerary in his hand. “I mean, at this point, it probably wouldn’t change much,” he says, and a little bit of hope unfurls in his chest. “Like, we’re not in a relationship or dating or whatever but…”

Derek finishes for him. “Maybe we should be.”

There’s another couple seconds of silence before Stiles shifts just enough to remember the itinerary still in his hand, the couples retreat that started this whole thing. “We, uh. I told Scott we’d drive separately but it’s still, like, four days so we’ll need to pack if we’re actually going to do this ridiculous thing.”

“Do you think if we just stayed in the suite the whole time they’d kick us out?” Derek asks, and takes the itinerary to examine it. “Because ‘Becoming One with the Vortex of Your Partner’s Soul’ doesn’t sound nearly as good as four days of making out with you on a beach does.”

And really, at that point, Stiles can’t be blamed for anything he does. Long story short, they aren’t packed in time, they show up to the retreat two hours late, and they never go to a single workshop. Scott isn’t disappointed in the slightest, apparently, instead looking strangely smug, like maybe he knows something Stiles doesn’t or like one of his plans actually worked.

In any case, Stiles is entirely too distracted to care.

[amazingmsme]

Preventing Apotheosis Part 2

He arrived in Clivesdale, checking in on the radio to check if the runway was clear for landing. He hopped out of the jet and opened his comms, "Barb?"

"Curt?"

"Just checking in, I just landed in Clivesdale and I see no signs of that General guy. You sure he knows I'm here?"

"I'm sure he's well aware." Curt turned around at the new voice and was face to face with a man in an all black military uniform. He also wore a black hat with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and his face was locked in an intense stare. Curt leaned into his watch, "Gotta go, I'll check in later."

The man held his hand straight out in front of him, "General John McNamera, special unit P.E.I.P. We call it Peep." Curt took his hand and shook it, "Agent Curt Mega, CIA."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Curt, though I wish it were under better circumstances. Who knows how many of those poor bastards on that island are infected by now..." he squinted his eyes and took a drag from his cigarette. Why did everyone around him have to smoke? Don't they know how bad it is? 

"So uh, you've seen this kind of thing before?" he asked, hoping to finally get some answers. John nodded, "P.E.I.P deals with these kinds of things. After Roswell, the government decided they needed a unit to keep tabs on all things that fall from space and make sure no one knows about it. I've dealt with things from crashed space ships to meteors like this one."

"My boss told me people were singing and dancing because of this, do you know anything about this?" He took another hit and blew out the smoke, "Yes... whatever these aliens are, they've tried to take over our planet before. They're like a hivemind, that's how they can all sing and dance in harmony, but other than world domination we can't figure out what the hell they want."

"Well you said it yourself, didn't you? World domination?"

"If only it were that simple. It's like they want the whole world to be one giant musical..." Curt couldn't help but shudder. Yeah it might not sound bad, but when you imagine everyone on earth being forced to sing and dance against their will, the picture is quite frightening.

"So how do we stop it?" he questioned.

"Once we arrive, we shoot all the infected we find. If we leave even one they can and will find their way to the mainland, and it'll only spread from there, so it is of utmost importance that we keep this contained, which is why the bridge is closed. No one is allowed in, or out as of right now. Except for us of course, we're the damn military," he offered a smile. Curt didn't expect for it to be so genuine, and he definitely wasn't counting on the way it made his heart flutter a bit faster. "We'll check for any civilians that are alive and uninfected and make our way back. We'll come back in about a month to make sure none we didn't miss anyone and by then, it's usually safe enough to remove the meteor and the dead bodies."

"Is it possible to remove the meteor now? I mean, if that's what's causing all of this, wouldn't it be best if we-"

"Are you insane? We can't get that close to it unless you want to join them, and I'd rather shoot you dead where you stand than have you turn into one of them." Curt didn't know what to say... Looks like getting samples from the meteor was out of the question. "Whatever it is can spread through the air the closer you are to the source... usually one of the aliens have to kill and infect you, but if you waltz up to that giant rock you'll come back singing, no doubt about it. I saw it happen..." General McNamera trailed off, and Curt understood all too well that look in his eye. It was a look he had seen in the mirror many times; it was the look of unmistakable guilt that could only come from letting your partner die. He didn't push for details and waited for him to recover because it's what he would want if their positions were reversed.

"We go and make a clean sweep. No survivors, we can't risk word of this getting out to the public."

Curt cleared his throat before he spoke, not trusting his voice, "I'm supposed to grab some samples so..." he trailed off. John rolled his eyes and took the cigarette out of his mouth, using it to gesture with, "Fine, you can grab some DNA from the ones we kill, but make sure not to touch it." Curt nodded, "Way ahead of you," he said pulling out the pen Barb gave him and clicked it three times. a mechanical pincher extended from the pen, opening and closing on demand. McNamera leaned back, eyes wide as he examined the tool.

"Cool. Just keep your weird spy do hickeys to yourself unless I ask." Curt obliged and put the pen in the front pocket of his suit. "Alright then. I'll go grab the rest of the unit and we can head over there." The General lead him to where the others were, and an officer walked up to them with a sour look on his face.

"General McNamera."

"Yes Private?"

"The boat isn't starting."

He let out a noise that was a mixture of a sigh and a grunt and rubbed his temple. "May I ask why the hell not?"

"It seems like a piece of the meteor from last night broke off and struck the engine before it sank beneath the water." Curt perked up, perhaps he could get a meteor sample after all.

"Where is the boat?" The soldier pointed off towards the water, "Right off the edge of that dock sir."

"Thank you." He was about to walk off in that direction but a strong hand gripped his arm and pulled him back.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm just gonna check the damage and see if there's any pieces left from the meteor fragment. The more data I can collect the better." General McNamera's grip didn't falter however, and Curt jerked his arm from his grasp before walking down the pier. He heard footsteps behind him before they fell in time with his own and John was at his side once more.

"I might as well go with you and see how fucked up she is," he said referring to the boat. The soldier sure was right about the engine being damaged. A dent large enough for Curt to crawl in left the boat inoperable and the metal was bent and torn away revealing the innerworkings that still sparked and sizzled. Curt noticed a small rock at the bottom of the boat and pulled out his pen and a collection tube, picking it up and looking it over. It was about the size of his palm and had small pores scattered all throughout. It was a deep chocolate brown color but when held in the light had a metallic blue hue to it. He sealed it away and put it in his bag before turning towards a less than amused General.

"It's just a tiny sample, it won't hurt anything Mac," he said, patting his shoulder. He shrugged his hand off and scrunched up his nose at the nickname.

"Just be careful. Well, we clearly can't take the boat anymore, so it looks like we'll have to take the chopper. We won't be able to take as many soldiers now, but I suppose if we need to we can always make two trips."

"Or take two helicopters," Curt suggested. John flashed him another smile, "I like the way you think."

The ride to Hatchetfield was mostly quiet, as it was too hard to talk over the sound of the whirring blades and it put unnecessary strain on their voices. Before they landed, everything seemed normal, but once they touched down, it all changed. It was like a ghost town: the roads and buildings were all deserted and empty. He noticed a few broken windows and smears of blue on the ground and walls of some of the shops. In the distance, heavenly voices sang an ominous tune, and it seemed to come from all directions. The helicopter whirred to life once more, leaving them to carry out their tasks. Oh God, what had they gone into?

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 7

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous  undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,557

Warnings:  racial slurs, anti-semitism, drinking, angst (sorry y’all)

Please go away little girl

Go away little girl

It's hurting me more each minute that you delay

When you are near me like this

You're much too hard to resist

So go away little girl before I beg you to stay

(x)

Flip spent more and more time with Elle. The two of them had very busy and sometimes conflicting schedules but he was more than willing to make it work. They started comparing schedules to find more time to spend together. His was more erratic than hers, as the klan could call him at just about any time and he’d have to go, but she’d wait up for his call on the nights he was working. Or he’d wake up early and they’d grab breakfast at the diner before her shift. Or he’d sleep over on Saturdays after they watched primetime. They’d find time in the odd hours of their days for one another, and Flip liked that.

It had been years since he’d had a relationship with this much work to it, but he wanted to make it work just for her. He wanted to be around Elle, even if it was just them grabbing coffee before the sun even rose. She shined bright enough to make it worth it.

The last few days had been a miss for the two of them, Elle’s shifts making it difficult to find a time for them to be together. They had the odd phone call here and there, and he found himself missing the smell of her hair or the sound of her laugh. He’d scold himself, he needed to be a professional and focus on the task at hand. He’d already given Ron shit about dating a girl who he’d met undercover, he’d never hear the end of it if he was caught sneaking out of the office to give Elle a call.

Jimmy knew about her, and how they’d been going steady the last few weeks. He knew that might as well have been centuries in Flip Zimmerman time. Information was pulled from him rather reluctantly. As much as he loved every little thing Elle did, a part of him wanted to keep her to himself. Keep her separate from his work life and his friends, if only until his undercover case was over. Jimmy offered that they come on a double date with him and his wife sometime, which Flip said he’d think about. He didn’t want to scare her off by inviting her on dates with a married couple. He knew they were moving fast, but there was a limit.

Not being able to share all the details of his job was probably the hardest part of their relationship. He wanted to tell her that he was undercover with a hate group that despised people like them, he wanted to tell her about how that was changing his mind about his own heritage. It had taken having such an intense level of hate spewed in his ears every day to finally understand that this effects him too, and that this really bothers him. He just didn't know how to explain that without also explaining the nature of his case, which was strictly forbidden by the department.

He’d seen it time and time before, undercover officers having huge fights with their spouses because of their jobs. The odd hours, the secrecy, it could chip away at even the sturdiest of marriages. He was determined to not let that happen to him. He made the fact that his job was difficult very clear, that sometimes he’d come home in an awful mood and won’t be able to talk about it, or that women might hit on him, but he will always be loyal to her. Elle would listen, empathy shining in her big brown eyes, and she would tell him she understood. She signed up for this, and they could work this out.

But things don’t always work out the way you’d like them too.

———

Ron had gotten the call right before him and Flip was about to leave for the night. They shared a look as he picked up the receiver and began to speak. They were the only two left in the office, the silence deafening as he tried to hear what was being said on the other line.

"Sure, sure, I'll meet you there. What's the address?" Ron said as he grabbed for a pen and paper.

"Uh huh, okay, I'll see you soon," He said, scribbling on the paper and hanging up the phone.

"That was Felix. He invited you to hang out with some of the guys at a bar on the north side,"

"Great," Flip muttered, getting up to take the address of his partner's desk. He read over the scribbled writing, trying to map out a route in his mind.

"Ready to get the wire?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, sure," He sighed, shoving the paper in his pocket.

The two moved to the equipment room to retrieve the wire and tape. Flip stood against the wall unbuttoning his shirt, leaving the undershirt exposed. He began ripping off sections of tape while Ron untangled the cord and battery pack.

"I'll be parked across the street, okay?" He said as he began to position the wire on his undershirt.

"No, park a little ways down the street. This bar isn't in a great area, you don't want them seeing you," Flip corrected, taping the wire into place on his own torso.

"Right, okay. I'll be there though. You remember everything from the last meeting?"

"I was there so yeah," He muttered, the last piece of tape securing the microphone on his chest. He buttoned his shirt back up and shoved the battery pack in his pocket, using his shirt tails to obscure any bulge.

"Alright, you probably don't have to stay long. Maybe just a beer," Ron continued, grabbing the recorder and heading out of the room.

"Yeah, lets make this one quick,"

-----

He pulled up and parked his car in the place Ron was going to originally park. He could see his compatriots through the dirty glass of the bar window. He sucked in a deep breath before crossing the street and opening the door. Country music and cigarette smoke filled the bar. Felix noticed him as he entered and motioned for him to join them at their table.

"Glad you could make it," He leered, a Coors in his grip.

"Yeah me too, thanks for inviting me out,"

"Get yourself a Coors and join us," It was clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.

Flip did just that. He wasn't really gathering any intel, he figured he wouldn't be once he got about 5 minutes into the conversation. They were just shooting the shit with one another. Bonding. He still needed to show face for a while, let them trust him. But he really wasn't enjoying it. 

At least being outside their normal bar made their conversations a little tamer. They’d peer around at the patrons in the bar, silently surveying and figuring out how much could be said. Nothing useful would be picked up on the mic tonight, but the more Flip hung out with them the more they would eventually reveal.

After he finished his beer, he told the group he was gonna step out for a smoke. He needed the break from their talk. They got exhausting really easily, even in a public setting. He shrugged his hunting jacket on and stepped out into the cool fall air. He took a breath of relief and pulled his cig box out of his pocket. It read Camel on the front, but there were hand-rolled ones on the inside. He tapped one into his hand and placed it between his lips. The spark of the lighter gave off a little bit of warmth, which was prolonged by the heated smoke that filled his lungs as he breathed in.

He knew it wasn't the best thing for him to be smoking. He'd seen the cancer reports. But his job was stressful and he needed this. Besides. Hand rolled ones were better for you. He took another drag and glanced behind him to see the guys all focus on each other and not minding him.

"I'll have another beer and then I'm going home," He mumbled just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. He couldn't see Ron's car but he knew he was close by.

He'd smoked about half his cigarette, he knew he should extinguish it soon and head back in. He was resigning himself to turn around and walk back into the bar. It took him a second to get the nerve to. That was when he heard a familiar voice.

"Flip?" He heard someone call from his left side. His body instantly froze. He wanted it to be a trick of the mind. No, he needed it to be.

He turned his head slowly, catching a glimpse of the guys in the bar, still not paying attention to him. He turned his head more to see Elle walking toward him, her nurse's uniform still on from her shift. Her necklace glinted under the streetlights glow.

"Flip, I thought that was you. I don't usually see you on this side of town," She smiled as she stopped beside him. Panic set it. What was he supposed to do?

"Yeah, its um, unexpected," He mumbled.

"Are you doing okay? You look pale," She moved her hand to check his forehead and he jerked away. He needed her to get away from this bar with these crazy racists. He needed her to be safe.

"I'm fine, don't worry. You should head on home though, it's pretty dark out,"

"You could always give me a ride," She winked. "It's been a while since you swung by, you've been busy or something?"

"Yeah, pretty busy," He trailed off as he glanced back in the bar. 

He was met with the steely gaze of Felix, staring back at him, eyebrow raised.

"Elle, I need you to get out of here. Now," He said without moving his mouth too much.

"What? Why?" She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"I can't tell you what's going on, you just gotta trust me," 

Felix was getting up and walking toward the door, the rest following behind shortly after.

"Flip, you're acting weird, is everything okay?" She looked toward the men, following his gaze.

"Eliana I can't be seen with you get the fuck out of here. Please," He pleased through gritted teeth.

"Excuse me?" Her tone shifted from worry to indignation. Her hands rested on her hips and she took a step closer to him. "You can't be seen with me? Is that what I just heard come out of your mouth?"

"Elle--" was all her managed to get out before he heard the door click open. His gaze flew to Felix, who was looking both of them up and down.

"She givin' you trouble?" He asked, eyeing the silver pendant around her neck.

He ran though every scenario of how this could go in his mind. She could accidentally call him by his real name, he couldn't let them know she knew him, he couldn't let her know he was undercover. This was a nightmare. There was no way out of this where someone didn't get hurt. 

He breathed in through his nose, resolute in what he had to do to keep her safe. Elle opened her mouth to speak but Flip beat her to the punch, trying to keep her from blowing his cover.

"She's just asking for directions. Told her I can't help her, but I do know where the nearest bakery is with an oven she can jump into,"

Her mouth hung open in shock, unable to take her eyes off him. His chest felt like it was filled with sand. What he said worked, but he knew there was no coming back from it. The guys laughed, flooding out of the bar to stand around her in a half circle.

"We can help make sure you get there, got some room in my trunk," Ivanhoe cackled, causing Felix to hit his arm to get him to shut up.

"It's not safe for women to be walking alone at night," The blond leered, taking a step closer to her. 

She didn't step back, daring instead to look up at him. If she was scared, she didn't show it. Felix reached his hand out, slowly pressing his index finger into the silver Star of David until his force pushed her back.

“You’re real pretty for a Jew,” He sneered, watching her stand up straight again, hands balled into fists at her sides.

Flip couldn't watch this anymore.

"There are a lot of bad guys on the streets, maybe you should go," His voice rumbled from his chest. He didn't have to nerve to look at her as he spoke, but he felt her gaze trained on him.

She stood there, looking at him for a few moments. He finally looked up and saw her eyes were glassy and pink. Her lip twitches and she drew her mouth tight to stop it. She was trying not to cry. His heart fell to his throat and he fought to regain control of his emotions. He has to do this. He had to keep both of them safe. This was for her own good.

He felt his breath hitch as she finally turned away, walking down the street at a quickened pace. His throat felt thick and he forced himself to swallow and take a breath. He couldn't seem upset. He just pushed away one of the best things in his life, and he had to act like it wasn't a problem. But it was. The shame was eating at him, he had to try to make this right. He swore that as soon as he could get out from being undercover he'd rush to see her.

She was a yard or so away when something glinted in the street lights and hit her in the head before falling to the ground with a clink. She stopped for a moment to acknowledge what just struck her. He couldn't quite make it out until he heard Ivanhoe snickering beside him. He motioned to his palm, which had a few pennies in it.

What a bunch of sick fucks.

“Dumb kike!” Ivanhoe held another up, ready to throw. Flip brought his hand up to stop him before he could even think about it.

"Quit it," He hissed.

The guys stopped to stare at him. He recovered his composure.

"She's not worth your money," the words dropped from his lips like poison, making himself feel ill as he spoke.

They laughed and she started walking again, not bothering to look back at him. He took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs, blowing it out before extinguishing the flame with the heel of his boot.

------

He was finally able to leave the bar a half hour later. He said his goodbyes and got in his car and waited until he was around the corner before he sped off toward the station. He was being reckless, he knew it, but he needed this to be over.

He could see Ron's car tailing behind him and he pulled into the station's parking lot.

"Flip," He heard him call as he slammed his car door shut and walked into the building.

Ron caught up with him quickly, but didn't say anything more as they headed toward the equipment room. He almost tore a button off trying to get the wire out from his shirt and off his person. He realized Ron had heard everything. That his words would always be on record to haunt him. His mouth tasted bitter.

"I couldn't see, was that your girl you were talking to?" Ron asked quietly.

“Elle. Her name’s Elle. She’s Jewish. The guys were coming outside. I had to make her leave, she wasn't safe there," His voice threatened to crack as he slammed the wire on the table and walked back to his desk.

As quick as his large fingers would allow him, he dialed out the number to her apartment. He impatiently waited to hear anything but a dial tone, bit nothing ever came. He cursed to himself and slammed the receiver back down.

"Flip, I'm sorry man," Ron said quietly from his own desk.

"It's part of the job," he gritted through his teeth. "I gotta fix this,"

He took long strides down the halls of the station, letting doors slam behind him as he rushed into the cool night air. He threw himself in his car and peeled out of the parking lot towards Elle's place.

What was usually a fifteen minute drive took him eight. He skidded into a parking spot and ran toward the building. He saw the light on in her window, a sign that she had at least made it home. He sprinted up the stairs, skipping two or three steps at a time, until he reached her hallway.

He was out of breath when he reached her door, but he didn't care. He knocked a few times, calling her name softly.

"Elle? Open the door, I have to talk to you,"

No response. He tried again.

"Elle? Please, you gotta hear me out,"

No response again.

"Eliana I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to see me like that. But you gotta believe I was doing it to protect you. I needed you to leave. It was for your own safety. Look, I was undercover, thats my job for the CSPD. I’m an undercover cop and I was with a bunch of targets. They’re awful people, I needed you to get as far away from them as possible while keeping my cover or else they could have hurt us both,”

He heard the faint sound of her moving across her apartment, stopping in front of the door. He reached out and placed his palms on the wood in front of him, as if she could feel him.

"You can ask anyone at the station. I can't tell you what's going on, but I had to keep you safe, and I panicked and said a lot of things I deeply regret. I didn’t mean anything I said when I was with them, it was only to keep them from trying to hurt you. I told you, my job is dangerous. You have to believe me,"

His hands slowly balled up into fists as he was met with more silence. He placed his forehead against the door, eyeing the mezuzah on the frame, feeling a new wave of guilt wash over him.

"Elle, please," His voice got quieter. "I know what it looked like but I had to keep you safe by any means. I can't let anything happen to you. You're too important to me," He swallowed, as if to keep from choking on his words.

"I love you,"

He meant it.

He had to let her know, she had to know he loved her. That this wasn't some fling, that he'd fallen hard.

A beat of silence was followed by her muffled voice coming from the other side of the door.

"Find some other dumb kike to tell it to,"

It felt as though the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He collapsed on himself, letting his weight rest on the door. He knew now, nothing he could say could fix this. He fucked up. He felt tears sting in his eyes and a burning sensation in his nostrils as he leaned off the door and slowly made his way back down the hallway. He wasn't going to cry, he wouldn't let himself.

There was no coming back from this. The best thing he could do was stay out of her life, he'd just mess it up more if he tried to stay. Before he could process it, he was back in his car and driving down the street as though he were on auto pilot.

He arrived back at his quiet, empty, lonely apartment and padded inside. His coat slipped from his shoulders on to the floor as he walked toward the kitchen cabinet. From the top shelf he pulled a bottle of whiskey. He let the liquor burn his throat, anything to distract from the dull ache inside himself.

He sat at his kitchen table with the bottle, the only light coming from the dim lamp above him. He stayed there for a long time, unable to find the strength to move. He played out the night in his head maybe a hundred times. What he could have done differently, what he could have said differently. Was there anything he could have done to keep her in his life?

The hate he had to emulate to hang out with the klan had been slowly chipping away at him. The comments and assumptions, the subtleties and the outrights. He was managing on his own, but Elle being introduced to their hatred was burning him to his core. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.

He took another swig of whiskey. A part of him had worried this would happen. Every other relationship he’d had failed at least partially because of his job. Why should this one be any different?

Though everything sure felt different with Elle.

Maybe it was better to be alone.

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

NOTES

So this chapter was basically what brought about this entire story. I’d been thinking about what would happen if Flip was undercover and had to sacrifice a relationship to keep both him and his girlfriend safe? So uhhh sorry! There’s like 7 more chapters to go so obviously things will change. 

I take no pleasure in writing racial slurs of any kind, but I felt it was necessary in this instance. I try to keep any dialogue from the klansmen in this story to a minimum because the amount of shit that comes out of their mouths isn’t stuff i’d want to read or write. 

Smoking was still very popular in the 1970s, about half the population smoked. Warning labled were introduced on cigarette packs in 1971. By the 1980s, the population of smokers had decreased by about ten percent.

The origin for the slur k*ke has a few different theories

[smilingformoney]

America’s Most Eligible 2 Diamond Scene: Strategize with Mackenzie and Jen

You: Come on, Mackenzie. I think talking strategy might do you some good. Mackenzie: If you’re offering… I guess it can’t hurt. Jen: I know the perfect place for a strategy session.

Jen leads you and Mackenzie up to the roof, where you find seats across from her. Jen leans forward and looks at Mackenzie intently. Jen: I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Mackenzie… Vince is good at finding your pressure points. Particularly in public, in front of the cameras… Mackenzie: Yeah, you’re telling me… Jen: But if you keep rising to the bait, it’s only going to give him an edge. You: And it’ll make you look bad in the process. Mackenzie crosses her arms. From where you’re sitting, you can see her clenching her jaw. Mackenzie: So the what am I supposed to do about it?

You: I think Jen is saying… -You should find his weak points and fight back!

Mackenzie: That’s what I’ve been trying to get at. I need to give that jackass a taste of his own medicine! Jen: Actually, that’s not what I had in mind… Jen: If anything, you should do your best to shrug off Vince’s jabs.

-You should just let him win.

Mackenzie: Are you serious? Jen: That’s not really what I was suggesting… Jen: I’m just saying, guys like Vince thrive off pushing other people to their breaking point. Whatever you do, you can’t give him that satisfaction.

-You need to play it cool.

Mackenzie: Play it… cool? You: Mackenzie, he’s actively trying to get a rise out of you. But if you stay relaxed around him, it’ll throw him off his game. Jen: She’s/He’s right! Whatever you do, you can’t react to anything he hurls your way. Otherwise, you’re just letting him beat you--

Mackenzie: But I’m not a doormat, Jen. And I’m sure as hell not going to sit there and let this guy get away with insulting me. Jen: Look, I know it’s easier said than done, but you gotta think of the long game. Sure, yelling at him feels great in the moment… You: But it might put you in jeopardy in the competition, especially if you blow up at him on camera. Jen: You’re an amazing contestant, Mackenzie. You just need to change up your strategy a bit… Jen: In fact, let’s roleplay this. I’ll be Vince, and I’ll say something rude to rile you up… Jen: And Jamie can model what a good response looks like… Playing as you. Mackenzie: I dunno if I’m in the mood for community theatre, guys… You: All you have to do is watch. Jen winks at you, then crosses her arms. She speaks on a low tone, hilariously reminiscent of Vince… ‘Vince’: Ugh. Mackenzie is such a bleeding heart! We have better things to do than helping little kids… Mackenzie: He would say that, that two-faced piece of-- Jen: Gonna stop you there, Mackenzie. The whole point is to play it cool! Jamie? You brush your hair back into your face, narrowing your eyes. You stand back, jutting out your hip… Mackenzie: I do not look like that-- ‘Mackenzie’: Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, Vince…

You: But… -I guess we’ll just help those children without you. Mackenzie +2

‘Mackenzie’: Though I think this world would be a far better place if we could work together for the greater good… Jen: And that is how you do it. Staying calm and being sincere about your beliefs makes Vince look like a jerk. Mackenzie: And I don’t have to sacrifice my real opinions to call him out…

-Maybe if you had a heart, you’d understand. Mackenzie +2

‘Mackenzie’: I shouldn’t expect anyone so dead inside to care about anyone but himself. Mackenzie: Damn. I’ll have to save that line for next time. Jen: That was actually a little more cutting than what I had in mind. Jen: But if it ends up making Vince look like the villain he is… You can consider it a job well done.

Mackenzie looks away, thinking for a moment. Mackenzie: Okay, Jen. You win. Jen: It’s not about winning, Mackenzie. We want you to hold your own against Vince. Mackenzie: Well, join the club. I just don’t want him to undermine what I’m trying to do with this Date. It’s not fair to those kids… You: He won’t undermine it, Mackenzie. We won’t let him. Mackenzie offers you a smile, the first real one you’ve seen in a while. Mackenzie: Thanks. But you made a good point earlier about how he already knows what sets me off… Mackenzie: I think it’s only fair that I learn his weak spots too. You never know when I’ll need to go for the throat. You think for a moment, back to your conversation with Vince during the sandcastle building Challenge… You: Vince told me that his on-camera reputation is everything to him, and yet he still finds ways to instigate things during filming… You: But if you play your cards like Jen said, you can make that strategy backfire on him. And make sure the cameras capture everything. Mackenzie: Sounds like you really got to know him when you were partners. You: Hey, ‘know your enemy’ is a proverb for a reason. Mackenzie: Good point. So, what’s the best way to get to him?

You: Vince’s biggest weakness is his… -Persona.

You: He wears his ‘suave’ persona like a suit of armour. If you want to stay on his good side, flatter him! You: But if you want to chip away at that armour, find a way to make him look bad on camera. Then the audience will see the real him. Jen: And from what I’ve seen, it won’t take much to make him lose his cool. Mackenzie: So all I have to do is shine a light on how he fails to live up to his persona…

-Competition with Adam.

You: He’ll never admit it, but he’s obviously intimidated by Adam… which is exactly why he keeps trying to sabotage him. You: If you plant the seed that maybe Vince doesn’t measure up to Adam, Vince’ll do the most to try and best him. Mackenzie: And he won’t have time to mess with me.

-Vanity!

You: You know he spends hours trying to look good for the cameras. When in doubt, go straight for the perm! Mackenzie: Oh, I’d love to see him cry over an out-of-place hair. Jen: I’d advise against any hair-pulling, imaginary or otherwise. But I’m sure you can get creative and use his narcissism against him…

Mackenzie takes a deep breath, as if shaking off her worries. Mackenzie: Thanks, guys. You’ve given me a lot to think about. You: Are you less worried about the Elimination? Mackenzie: Oh, I have my fingers crossed that Vince will be sent packing instead of me. But I think I can relax in the meantime… Mackenzie +2 Mackenzie: Especially now that I finally have the right ammo to deal with him. She grins at you, and you all start to head for the stairs…

Who do you say a private goodbye to? -Mackenzie

As Jen goes ahead, you call Mackenzie back before she leaves the terrace. Mackenzie: Wanted to get me all to yourself, huh? You: I just wanted to make sure you’re really doing okay. Mackenzie: I am. Don’t get me wrong, the ‘take the high road’ advice can be frustrating, but I know you’re right. Mackenzie: And you helping out means a lot to me. Just like these little moments do… She tugs on your shirt, bringing you in for a heated kiss. She chuckles against your lips as you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her even closer. You: You’re not making it easy to leave, you know… Mackenzie winks, and take you by the hand, leading you downstairs to the others.

-Jen

As Mackenzie goes ahead, you motion for Jen to hang back with you. You: Hey, thanks for helping Mackenzie with this. Jen: Of course! What kind of producer would I be if I didn’t give advice? You: You just… care a lot more than more producers would. It’s one of the many reasons I like you so much… Jen closes the distance between you, threading her fingers through your hair… And pressing her lips against yours. You smile, deepening the kiss. You savour the feeling of her body against yours, the soft noises she makes as she kisses you again and again… Jen: Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Jen cups your cheek, smiling sweetly. After a gentle moment, you both head downstairs to find the others.

-No one

You follow right behind Jen and Mackenzie as they leave the terrace. Mackenzie: Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for all the Vince tips. Jen: I’m glad I could help! I only wish I could do you both a favour… and send him home myself. Mackenzie: Smart, and funny too! I can’t believe you were keeping our star producer all to yourself last year, Jamie. You: You can’t blame me for wanting the very best on my side. Jen shoots you a smile, then leads you back to the others.

-If you already spoke to Adam and Derek

You both feeling better about surviving Vince and Ivy? Adam: If I make it through the end of the week without glaring at my ‘partner’ on camera, it’s all thanks to you. Mackenzie: Yeah, what Adam said. Jen: I’m glad we could help. But now, as your producer, I have to officially recommend that you all get back to the cameras.

 -If you didn’t already speak to Adam and Derek

You: (There might till be time to chat with Adam and Derek…)

What do you do? -Strategize with Adam and Derek! -Rejoin the others.