#he can see mia's outline standing there with one hand covering her mouth laughing

[cornertheculprit]

currently the funniest idea running through my head is apollo complaining about a light flickering on and off at the agency and being like damn trucy doesn't mr. wright ever change the lightbulbs around here? and trucy just goes oh the lightbulbs are fine! that's just ms. mia saying hello :) and apollo is like WHO???? and trucy just looks at him like gosh polly don't you know anything? ms. mia! daddy's old mentor! the one who was so fond of mr. charley! and apollo tries to laugh it off and go haha trucy very funny you're not gonna scare me with ghost stories (<-very obviously quaking in his shoes) and right at that moment a stapler gets knocked off his desk and apollo screams so loud they can hear him from the prosecutor's office

[ikeromantic]

Dances with Vampires

An Ikevamp Leonardo story in which our brave Italian learns how to dance. Scene occurs in Ch14. Approx 1600 words.Fluff. I’m not sorry.

First: That First Night

Previous: Almost

Leonardo was unsure of himself. This was an unusual emotion for him. In fact, he was certain it had been two, maybe three centuries since he’d felt so restless. And it was all his compagna’s fault. With her “Oooh, Leo! We’ll learn to dance together!” So much excitement in her eyes that he couldn’t say no. 

But now he had a problem. Dancing was not the sort of thing you taught yourself. That was one reason Leonardo had never learned how. He’d have to find a teacher he trusted and then spend hours, days, weeks, to be simply competent. No. Yet now he had a need to know. 

First, he scoured the library and pulled down several tomes on dancing. Most were useless. The history of this, the meaning of that. A few had diagrams. Arrows and pictures of feet, sketches of how to place the arms and hold posture. It was easy to remember the lines of motion and the instructions, but as Leonardo spun an invisible cara mia across the open space between shelves, he knew he was doomed.

How to know what the beat would be, or determine the length of a step? Was he doing it right? He felt fumble-footed and silly. 

“What are you doing, old boy?” Arthur’s voice, thick with held laughter. The writer was standing in the doorway wearing his usual smirk.

“Dancing.” Leonardo quickly collected his books. 

Arthur couldn’t stop a throaty chuckle. He shook his head. “In my day they say you’re a genius, but from what I just saw, there are certainly a few things you haven’t mastered yet.”

“There are always things to learn.” 

“I could show you a few moves, if you like. It’s all in the hips, you know?” He swiveled his own for emphasis.

Leo shook his head. “No, thanks.” 

“Oh, but you’ll disappoint our pretty bird. We can’t have that, can we?” Arthur’s expression was just short of challenging.

“She hasn’t been disappointed yet.” Leonardo walked past the lesser vampire, resisting the urge to bump his shoulder in a show of strength. Those kind of demonstrations only confirmed a sense of inferiority. But damn it would feel good to set the smooth playboy on his ass.  

“She knows where to find me when you do.” Arthur’s last taunt followed Leo into the hall. 

It was a skill the writer possessed - to read his victims and push their buttons. Elicit a response. He’d known just what button to push on Leonardo to solidify his determination to learn how to dance properly for his cara.

Leonardo stalked upstairs, seeking the musician. Mozart had been a salon favorite in his time - and it wasn’t that long ago. He trusted the cold-natured pianist to give him pointers. Far more than he trusted that flirtatious leech of a writer. 

The sound of a scratching pen met his ears outside the music room door. Leo hated to interrupt Wolfgang while he was composing, but he had to have something by tonight. His first ‘lesson’ with his compagna. 

Mozart’s icy amethyst gaze stopped him at the entry. 

Leonardo gave the pianist a lazy smile. “I just stopped in to ask you a small favor. May I?”

“I am already interrupted.” Wolfgang set down his pen and crossed his arms. 

“I appreciate it.” Leo took a breath, trying to think of how best to ask. He settled on, “Do you know how to dance?”

“Quite.”

“That’s great! Can you teach me a waltz, polka, or Valse à Deux Temps? Or - all of them?” 

Mozart’s mouth opened in surprise. It took him a moment to collect himself enough to reply. “I don’t know those. Besides, I hate dancing. It’s a distraction.”

Leonardo shrugged. “Alright. I am trying to learn from books but it - well. You already said no. I won’t press you on it. Ciao.” He waved a hand at the pianist and turned to go.

“Leonardo. Wait.”

He stopped and turned his head to see what Wolfgang wanted to say.

“I would be a terrible instructor. And all the dances I know are quite out of date for a modern ball. But if you can find someone to teach you, I can play the music. So you get a feel for the tempo.” He flashed a small smile at the older vampire. “I do not mind helping as I can.”

“Thanks Wolfgang.” 

“Of course.”

Leonardo left the music room with a sense of doom. Who in the mansion could teach him modern dances? Napoleon? Maybe, but he wouldn’t know the fashionable dances. Jean? Leo sighed. Definitely no. Sebas perhaps? He had surprising skills. 

“Are you muttering to yourself?” Le Comte interrupted Leo’s musing as he walked slowly toward the stairs.

“I might have been.”

His oldest friend smiled sympathetically. “At a guess - your compagna wants you to take her to the dance?”

Leo nodded. “You knew she would.” It wasn’t said as a question. 

“I couldn’t be certain. Let us say, I suspected.” 

“Then this is your fault.” Leonardo chuckled, seeing the outline of le Comte’s manipulations.

“It might be. I had hoped you would enjoy an evening with her. A night out would be good for you both and it might . . . quiet the rumblings.” He shrugged, settling a gloved finger to his chin. “But you seem out of sorts?”

“You know I don’t dance.”

A slight twitch of the eyelid, a curl at the edge of le Comte’s lips gave the lie to his reply. “I had no idea!”

Leonardo was caught between a laugh at his own expense and a sense of building frustration. “So what should I do, old friend? You are always ready with advice, no?”

“As it happens, I am ready with something better than advice. A solution.” He guided Leo back toward the music room. 

Mozart looked up from his music sheets, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “This is the second interruption this hour.”

Le Comte spoke before Leonardo, giving the pianist a short bow. “And this one is entirely my fault, Herr Mozart. I know how precious your time is, but I must ask a favor of you.”

“I already asked him for one,” Leo interrupted. 

“This is your dance instructor?” Mozart eyed le Comte. “I don’t know why anything surprises me any more. At least you didn’t bring the chattery girl in here.” 

Le Comte smiled in his genial way and nodded to the pianist. “I am going to teach Leonardo some finer points of the modern ballroom. I am sure he’s picked up the basics on his own, but refinement takes practice.”

Mozart’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t dispute the count’s version. “Then please, may we get this over with? I have work to do.”

Leo sighed. This was every bit the nightmare he’d envisioned. He said nothing as le Comte went to Mozart’s side to explain what was needed for music. In no time at all, he was positioned in the center of the music room, standing across from his old friend.

“Shall we?” Le Comte settled an arm around Leonardo and grasped held out his other hand. 

“You’re leading?” 

His old friend laughed. “Of course! At first - and then once you have the sense of it, you can lead me.”

Leo sighed again, but it was too late for protest. He’d only look more foolish if he stormed out. He took Comte’s hand and placed his other on his friend’s shoulder. The music began, a slow waltz. 

Mozart called out the the first few beats. It was a help as le Comte began guiding Leonardo through the steps.

“You are too stiff. Relax.” And then, “Don’t slouch.” Followed by, “You’ve stepped on my foot again. Measure your steps carefully.”

The corrections were gentle, but Leo wasn’t exactly used to being a student. Hadn’t been one in a very long time. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t know the right body posture and theory - he’d spent all morning reading up on it. It was just hard to focus on when le Comte was breathing on his cheek. Leonardo was too aware of Comte’s hips against his, and the long fingers placed gracefully against his spine. He wondered if his old friend held cara mia this way. If she liked it. 

“I can’t do this.” 

Le Comte stopped dancing. His eyebrows were raised, lips quirked as if to ask a question. 

Leo let go of his hand and stepped back. “It’s just - you’re too tall. Too broad. Nothing like my compagna. I can’t dance with you.”

“Perhaps if you led? I think you are getting the hang of it, despite yourself.” 

Mozart, ever helpful, added. “Yes, I believe you have it. I am sure we can stop now.”

Le Comte threw him a look of elegant annoyance. “That is not what I meant.” To Leonardo he added, “We still have several other dances to cover. Perhaps one of the others. One less intimate? I would hate to let ma cherie down . . .” 

As if having his one blind spot poked at wasn’t bad enough, le Comte had to pick up on his discomfort as well. Leo took a long, slow breath. He wanted to retire to his room and call this experiment done. But the idea of telling his compagna he had failed - that he would not dance with her - twisted his gut. She would look at him with her wide eyes and tell him it was fine, no matter the disappointment in their depths. He could not let that happen.

Leonardo’s lips twisted into an amused grimace. “Alright, old friend. Let’s try another dance. I have a few hours before cara mia will need me.”

Next: Three Words

[stayhazey]

Late Nights

pairing : cullen x oc!inquisitor

summary : ellana and cullen both find themselves up in the early hours of the morning. poor man has suffered one of his usual nightmares and she’s all that comforts him.

warnings : some kissing but like it's cute. also an f word is thrown in there.

wc : 2.8k

note : first little one shot posted to this account ! hope you enjoy !

Screams echo in the abyss around him. He sees through clouded eyes as figures push past him. The figures are rotting and stumble about. He recognizes the faces of his old friends back at the circle. His hands attempt to protect him from the terrors before him as he tries to walk forward. His legs are weighted and he feels with each step his energy and control is stripped away.

One of the forms bumps into him and he feels their rotting flesh squish into his own. His stomach tightens and he feels the bile scratch at his throat. In seconds, he's doubled over releasing blood onto the ground below him. Cullen watches on in horror as his blood grows acidic and melts away the darkness beneath his feet.

His body plummets and lands back into the place where it all started. The stone walls close in around him, his lungs shrink, and his heart stops. A woman stands before him her body emaciated. Then everything in her body seemingly snaps. Her back completely twists and her arms crack and bend at unnatural angles. She begins to shake uncontrollably as a shriek tears from deep within her. The woman melts away, her skin pooling on the floor beneath in a pile of mush. Now, a demon stands before him. The body is lithe and deformed. It's hair is a black mass flowing in the air. Dark, inky, goo drips from its mouth.

Cullen remains sprawled out on the floor and the creature takes advantage of his position. It's claws grip his legs as it makes its way up his body. The curse dripping from its lips and onto Cullen. The substance stains his body, spreading up his torso and down his legs. He grunts as it begins to burn away his skin.

"My dear, Cullen. You fool," the demon hisses.

It's hand grips his face, it's fingers like ice against him. It's hold grows tighter by the second. The burning from the goo he can begin to feel in his bones, his screams fill the still air.

"That's it, scream golden boy, scream."

The pet name that drips from the demons lips makes his insides squeeze. That name is often used but normally comes from another's lips. Another he holds dear. Anger surges through him but it's quickly subsided as the demons nails dig through his cheek and into his jaw.

The pain causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head. He looses control of himself as his body begins to shake out of control. The demon cackles, a horrid sound that fills the room and echoes deep in Cullen's heart.

—

Cullens body jerks forward as a scream rips from his throat. His heart drums against his chest. Labored breaths interrupt the rooms quietness. His hands begin to search his body, checking for burns and the same black ink that once overtook him. He feels under his shirt, up his torso, around his shoulder, and down to his lower back.

He feels himself settle as the familiar bumps of his scars rub against his fingertips. No darkness and no burning. Though he may not see it he can still feel it eating away at him, like a painful twitch.

"Fuck," he shoves out with a heavy breath.

The nightmares have haunted him for as long as he can remember and without lyrium they become worse. They become more real. The demons hand on his face felt cold and sticky. It sent waves of dread coursing through his veins. Every bad thing that has ever happened to him crashed in at once. The torture, Meredith, his fight with Lyrium. The faces of his friends as they were slaughtered before him. Their eyes sear into his brain and leave their imprint.

He leans backwards against his head board and lets himself relax. He seems to do that less and less these days. With a gaping hole in the sky leaking death from every direction there's hardly time to rest.

He's grateful for the cool air that wraps around his heated body. Small moments like these where he can simply breathe seem to be some of the only things keeping him sane.

Reopening his eyes, he meets the stars that shine through the large missing space in his ceiling.

He recalls when he was smaller with his older sister Mia. Often times they'd find themselves outside seeing how many images they could make in the stars. He can't help but smirk at the memory.

Two particular stars dance brighter than the others. They twinkle as if to wink at him. Reminds him much of the inquisitor, Ellana.

The same twinkling going on with the stars he often sees in her own eyes. Especially when she smiles. He reminisces in the thought of her.

Her small, soft hands that often make home around his torso or against his neck. Her warm smile that wraps him up like a blanket and keeps him close. Her plump lips that make magic against his own. The subtle, kind words that always seems to spill out of those lips.

His hearts yearns to find her, to waltz into her room and demand her presence. Her attention. Her care. He wishes to be selfish but a small yet strong feeling keeps him placed in his bed. She's the inquisitor. If anyone deserves a good nights sleep its her, with all she does. The whole world rests on her shoulders.

Cullen feels the room slowly begin to close in on him. The walls swirling and pushing inward. His head pounds and his body aches. Sleep seems impossible to the ex-Templar. He knows it won't be coming anytime soon. He needs to escape this blasted room.

Removing himself from his bed he walks to the ladder leading down to his office. As he walks his legs wobble beneath him. His first attempt leading him back on the bed. He grits his teeth in frustration, and shoves himself up straight.

The trip down the ladder is careful. It takes him possibly a solid three minutes to make it down to his office. Despite the cool air, sweat drips down his forehead and neck. He uses the sleeve of his arm to remove some of the substance.

With a sigh he makes his way to the door and pushes it open to the battlements. The frigid air rushes at him making a shiver crawl down his spine. He takes a deep breath absorbing the clear air. He focuses in on the way the air fills his lungs and makes him feel alive again. The dreams always made him tense. Everything around him afterward appearing so dark and clammy.

"Hey, you," a soft voice calls out.

Cullens eyes snap open and soften at the sight of the voice. There Ellana stands, back pressed against the stone ridge. The corners of her mouth at turned upward. Her brown hair, now black in the night, curls around her face as a light wind catches her.

The cloak that seemingly swallowed her before flows open with the wind revealing a small night gown that stops mid thigh. It squeezes around her hips and thighs.The sight makes his throat tighten. Usually she wears her light armor or a simple tunic and pants. He'd be lying is he said he didn't enjoy the sight.

"Inquisitor?"

He makes his way over to her. He attempts to contain his weak state not wishing to worry the poor woman so late at night. He reaches the wall and leans against it, mostly for support, right beside her.

"What brings you out here?" Cullen questions.

His eyes move to admire Skyhold at night. The view from the battlements has always been beautiful during the day but at night it's a different atmosphere. The snow amongst the mountains maintains a more subtle tone. The clouds covering some tips of the mountains makes the illusion of fog.

"Couldn't get myself to fall asleep."

"And you, commander?" She turns her body to face him. Her shoulders slump against the wall and her hips jut out slightly. He craves to trace her outline with his fingers. To hold her and pull her into him.

"Have the nightmares troubled you again?"

Her voice is tender as she gazes at him.

"Yes," he whispers.

"You've mentioned them before. Is the neglect of lyrium making them worse?"

He gives a subtle nod of his head. Cullen clears his throat as his face meets the floor. He hates her seeing him like this. So weak. He can only imagine how she must view him.

"Hey," her hand cups his cheek. Her hand is cold due to the night air. It clashes against his burning skin. She moves his head to face her. Her eyes read him. As if she understands every worry going on in his head. "It's ok."

Those two words melt into him. He leans into her touch, closes his eyes, marveling in her cool fingertips. His hand finds hers. He removes it from his face and brings her palm to his lips.

He can see her heart skip a beat through her pupils. He needs her.

His other hand lurks around her waist and wandering to her lower back. With a small amount of force, he pulls her toward him. His lips take hers with great care. Her scent envelops him. The familiar warmth of cinnamon and sharp cut of herbs.

Their lips move together in synch. Cullen has her pulled against him so tightly he can feel her heartbeat ram against his own. His hands roam her body trailing from her ribs and down to the bottom of her hips. He feels her shiver at his touch.

Ellana's hands rub amongst his neck and move into his soft curls. Her hands leaving cool trails. As the kiss deepens she gives a soft tug to his hair, earning a breathy groan from the man and a smile from Ellana.

Cullen is the first to pull for air. His hands remain around her waist and Ellana holds his cheek. He brings his forehead to rest against hers. The two share gasps for air and they absorbed one another's touch.

"Must've been a really bad nightmare." Ellana chuckles.

Cullen matches her laugh. "You have no idea."

His tone seems darker than intended and Ellana picks up on it. She moves back slightly to take a look at his face. She takes him in. His usually well kept, blonde hair is now disheveled thanks to no one other than her. Her thumb rubs against his slightly swollen bottom lip. His scruff is rough against her finger tips but it's something she's always enjoyed. His eyes show how tired he is. Dark circles tug at his under eyes and the dull fog over them scream exhaustion. Her heart tugs.

"I'm sorry these nightmares haunt you. Is there anything I can do?"

The man smiles down at her. Instead of answering he moves his head to the crook of her neck. His breath sends goose flesh onto her neck and shoulder. She simply allows him to remain there. To let him have this moment of comfort. Her hand returns to his hair and plays with it gently. Her other hand rubs along his upper back, dragging her nails lightly.

All Cullen wants is her. He wants to stay in this potion forever. Her skin is soft against his scruff and the crook slowly becomes like a pillow. The longer his eyes are closed the longer he feels himself slipping away. In attempts to stay awake, he begins to move his hands. He runs his hands across the small of her back and up to her shoulders. The nightgown is made of thin material and skinny straps hold it on. When his hands make contact with her skin and he feels a fire ignite in him.

He presses his lips into the very spot where neck meets shoulder. He hears her take a sharp intake of air. Ellana's grip on his hair tightens ever so slightly and her body tenses in his grasp. He can't help but love the way she responds to him. He places another one slightly above that. She lets out a soft hum as he leaves a trail wandering all the way up to her jaw.

Her cheeks have flushed and her breathing has undoubtedly intensified at his actions. What he would give to take her then and there. But he knows he's hardly capable of doing that in his current state. The sleep that surrounds him begins to slightly drown him. He returns his face into her neck and presses more kisses.

"Cullen-"

"Come to bed with me."

The words rush out of him faster than he can stop them. He realizes the nature of his actions and his words could insinuate something entirely opposite of what he intended.

His head shoots up to meet a wide eyed Ellana. Her pupils dilated and her lips are parted. He can see the hesitation and shock on her face.

"Maker, Ellana, I only meant to help me sleep. You're presence," he trails off embarrassed by the whole situation.

A low giggle erupts from the small girl. He meets her eyes and sees that only pure joy fills her face.

"Of course, Cullen. Let's go."

She grips one of his hands and heads towards the still open door that Cullen once walked out of. She is weary of how fast she moves not wishing to over exert the man.

They make it to the ladder and Cullen insists on Ellana going first. As she reaches a little past halfway Cullen takes a start. He attempts to climb the ladder as quickly as she did but he knows the decision isn't wise when his arms begin to shake.

His eyes peek over the ledge and he smiles when Ellana is standing there waiting.

"You could've gotten into bed," he states.

"I know."

Cullen struggles to pull himself over and Ellana helps as best as she can. Once on his feet he stumbles slightly his full weight crashing down on the small woman.

Surprisingly, she remains upright supporting him and carrying him towards the bed.

"Maker, I'm sorry Ellana," he huffs. He attempts to move off her but she gives a tug of his arm and he moves back.

"Don't be afraid to let me help when you need it."

He mentally thanks her for her words. He can't help but feel like a burden towards the poor woman. She's only ever treated him with care. He wishes to give the same to her.

They make it to the bed and Cullen sits down. Ellana stands before him, a loving smile on her face.

He takes her in once again. Her night gown has rose up and bunched somewhat around her hips. Her left strap drapes down her shoulder and drags more with each breath. The cloak she wears has been twisted and knotted behind her.

Cullen reaches out and grabs her hands pulling her toward him.

"Thankyou, my darling."

Ellana feels her heart skip at the name. He hugs her around her thighs and rests his head against her stomach. His arms rest right beneath her bottom where her dress has continued to rise up. She blushes at the contact.

Cullen lifts up his head and drags his hands up her torso. He reaches her shoulders and removes the cloak. The cool air attacks the now exposed skin and Cullen feels the goose flesh rise beneath his fingers.

Returning his hands to her waist, Cullen begins to lean backwards, pulling Ellana along.

"Oh, Cullen!"

They land in a heap on the bed. He managed to move them sideways his face now resting against her breast. Her face blazes. His arms remain around her and he holds her tightly. Ellana lets out a giggle as the man nuzzles into her plush chest.

"Whatever did I do to deserve you?" He mummers into her.

"I could ask the same about you, golden boy."

He feels himself smile at the name. A name she's called him often. It never ceases to warm his heart.

She leans her head against his and allows his hair to rub against her cheeks. She breathes in his surprisingly sweet scent. Her legs wrap around him and Ellana feels sleep tug at her eyelids.

Cullens breathing has diluted and his chest rises and falls slowly. Ellana smiles as the man sleeps against her.

"Sleep well, my love." She whispers into his hair.

[bran-writes]

Farm Boy Blues Ep. 1 “Welcome Home, Sunny:” Pt. 2

Sunny climbed out of the Dyson Security car, bag in tow, and stretched carefully. He took stock of everybody out on the sidewalks. There were throngs of people crossing the street towards him, not particularly minding him at all. A couple sat down at a patio coffee shop table and a family of four piled into a minivan down the street. Food stall vendors offered their choices as the meals were cooked in front of waiting patrons. Everything seemed normal- just as Sunny had left it four months ago. The sun beat down on him as the smell of Courier Street assaulted his nose. 

Baking bread. 

Lamb meat.

Strong coffee.

Gourmet popcorn. That was exactly where Sunny was headed. He thanked the security guard and closed the car door before gingerly slinging his bag on his shoulder. Sunny crossed the busy street to Diane’s Eatery, coming upon a woman and her kids walking out with small bags of gourmet popcorn. The woman attempted to corral her two children who weren’t giving her a lick of attention until she snapped her fingers. Smiling, Sunny reached out and held the door open. 

“Thank you,” the woman sighed, rolling her eyes, “Come on kids, don’t make this man hold the door open all day. Move your boots!”

A shriek came from inside Diane’s Eatery and Sunny’s head snapped up, instantly recognizing the owner of the shrill voice. “Mama! Sunny’s here!”

Twelve year old Lacey bounded over the sales counter past a shocked old man laying his money down and sprinted towards Sunny before he had time to even get all the way inside. The girl threw her arms around Sunny and held tight, laughing. 

“Woah, woah, Lace, chill out,” Sunny laughed through the pain of her head smacking his stitches. He wanted to curse out in pain, but he was overwhelmed with joy from seeing the kid. Eh, the pain can wait, Sunny thought to himself. 

Lacey’s bright red hair was tied in a ponytail so it was easy enough for Sunny to playfully tug it. “Hey, stop,” she laughed. The girl looked up at Sunny with a big smile- a smile he’d seen so many times over the years but never got old. “I knew you’d come back!”

“Oh of course,” Sunny scoffed, “did somebody say I was gone for good or something?”

A chorus of kids yelling Sunny’s name pulled him away from his adoptive little sister and before he knew it, the rest of his adopted siblings were bounding from the back of the store- many of them still wearing their backpacks. 

“Ah, what- who let you heathens out of school early?!”

There were four kids(besides Lacey) who gathered around for hugs. 

Pete with the glasses.

Johnell with the mohawk. 

Amber with the braids.

And of course, Tiny Dalton. 

Sunny hugged them all one by one and asked where Mama Diane was. As if summoned by the mention of her name, the owner of the shop and the woman who’d shown Sunny love when nobody else would, appeared from the back with a big smile on her face. 

Diane Haines looked immaculate for her age. Rich brown skin, deep brown eyes with dark freckles underlying them. Her shining curls were outlined in white strands- the only byproduct of time that was visible on the fifty year-old woman as of yet. Sunny smiled at her over the other kids and instantly felt like he was fifteen again, coming home from a day of work. The world droned away while she approached and for the first time since crossing the gate, Sunny was truly glad to be home. 

“Hey, mama,” Sunny winked.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Diane chuckled, weaving through her other adopted kids to hug Sunny. He wanted to cry when he smelled her perfume. He hugged her back tightly, ignoring the pain in his chest. “I told them you’d be back,” she winked at him. 

“Back home? Can’t keep me away,” Sunny laughed. 

“Okay kids, break it up,” Diane waved at the children. “Lacey, back on the register until Stevie gets back from lunch, please. Everybody else, homework. Right now. You’ll get time with Sunny when you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m back, guys. You’ll get your chance to hang out and ask me a bunch of annoying ass questions, I promise.”

Diane smacked his arm, “Don’t cuss at my babies.”

The kids dispersed- Lacey back to the register while the others grabbing seats in the corner of the restaurant to peel their backpacks open and get started on their homework. 

Diane’s Eatery was a well-known little snack shop on the East Side of The Rows- a large, older and less hi-tech section of Dyson City. The shop was most celebrated for it’s array of gourmet popcorn from the bar where you could get as many flavors in one of the bags as you liked. Jimmy, Diane’s only birth son helped with the cooking while the kids Diane took in often helped out around the shop for some extra spending money. 

Diane lead Sunny to the back office that connected to the apartment she lived in with the kids and her wife, Katrina. Sunny grabbed one of the office chairs and sat down in it, playfully rolling into Diane’s desk. 

“So, mama, mother of many, how’s it goin?”

Diane smirked, “Don’t ‘so mama’ me, what happened?”

Sunny feigned shock. “Mama Diane, am I not allowed to come home, you know, to where the heart is? Does it have to because of some disaster?”

“She fucked you, didn’t she?” Diane crossed her arms. 

“Oh, many times,” Sunny bucked his eyebrows. 

“Don’t be nasty! You know what I mean. What happened?”

Sunny felt it was okay to beat around the bush for the time being, to stop himself from breaking down in front of her- no matter how much he wanted to. She had so much to deal with already and the last thing Sunny wanted to do was add to her plate. “It just didn’t work out, mama. You can go ahead and say I told you so.”

“You know that’s not what I’m about. I just want to see you safe and happy. That girl was never gonna let you be either of those.”

She was right… Of course she was right. She’d been right when Sunny told her that he was going away with Mia in the first place. Hell, she’d been right when he first met Mia six years ago. “Yeah…”

“Baby, I know you feel like you need somebody to be there for you, and that’s perfectly understandable. But you need somebody who’s gonna support you, who’s gonna be in your corner, and who’s not gonna take any of your shit. You can’t force somebody to be that. You just have to be patient.”

“You’re right,” Sunny brushed his hair back and sighed, leaning back in the seat.

“You look hurt, why you holding yourself like that?”

“Just sore. A long ride on the train back into the city.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me…”

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly split on the best of terms. Anyways, I’m just glad to be back home.”

Diane looked at him with that stare, that look full of sympathy and love. “You want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“Maybe some other time, I just want to get home and shower and sleep.”

“Okay baby. You want your piece back, at least?”

“Sure do,” Sunny smiled. Diane reached under the desk and produced the lock box that held his handgun. She unhooked a key from her necklace and slid both across the desk to him. Sunny pulled his duffel bag into his lap and shook it. 

“Brought something for you,” he winked.

“From one of your desert stashes?” Diane bit into a carrot she produced from a plastic container. From the looks of it, Sunny had caught her on her lunch break. 

“Yep, figured we could use it in the future fund here,” Sunny unzipped the bag and produced several stacks of cash tied together by rubber bands. “Should be about three grand, there. Trade ya.”

Sunny gave her the money and zipped the rest back up. While Diane counted, Sunny unlocked the box to see his Beretta Cougar 8040 in its holster, his spare magazines resting beneath it. He pulled the pistol from its holster and checked to make sure it was empty. He stared down at it, glad to have the reassuring weight back in his hand. The original pistol was first manufactured 181 years ago, but Beretta brought back the design just thirty years ago as part of a legacy line. There weren’t many of them from that legacy line on the streets, but Sunny was glad to have his.

“Yep, three grand it is. I’ll add it to the fund. Thank you, baby.”

“No problem,” Sunny loaded a magazine into the gun, engaged the safety and holstered it, standing up and clipping the holster to the back of his belt. He put the spare magazines in the duffel bag and hoisted it on his shoulder, trying not to wince. “My car’s still here, right?”

With a mouthful of sandwich, Diane nodded and pointed to the wall behind her where a hook for keys was. Sunny crossed over and plucked his car key off the hook. Diane covered her mouth with her hand and snapped, “It’s out back.”

“Thank you, mama. I’ll see you later,” Sunny leaned down and kissed the woman’s forehead. Making sure he had everything he needed, he opened to door to the apartment and slid through.

“Call me!”

“I will, say hi to Katrina for me,” Sunny waved and closed the door behind him. 

In the garage behind Diane’s Eatery, Sunny rounded the corner and almost teared up when he saw his car safe and sound where he left it. The Briggs Wayfarer wasn’t the most sporty or even new car, but Sunny fell in love with it the moment he saw it when he was 16. The boxy look fit his tastes and the bright blue paint with white accents gave the car more personality than it’s brethren at the lot Sunny bought it from. It was about nine years old, but he’d taken good care of it, which also meant he’d installed bullet proof windows and paneling inside the chassis for when work got heated. 

Sunny unlocked the car with the fob and climbed in. The familiar feel of the seats made him instantly feel at home. He checked the dashboard and the passenger seat before twisting around to look in the back.

“Oh, baby, I missed you,” he smiled. Sunny tossed the duffel bag in the back seat and started the car to a healthy rumble. He couldn’t help but laugh in joy. “Yep, Mama Katrina took good care of it, didn’t she? Sounds good as new.”

The car’s navigation system blinked on and the console beeped to life. The welcome message scrolled across the screen and Sunny re-synched the car back to his watch before scrolling through his music options, picking a song and pulling out of the garage. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tag List:

@writerinafury @oneleggedflamingo @carmina-solis @anomaly00 @neirawrites @lnspired-insomniac

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader -”Mommy” Part 2

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part 1     Part 3         Part 4       Part 5

“Do you feel sick?” you ask Aiden, carrying him in your arms around the kitchen. The boys just woke up and everyone is downstairs, waiting for breakfast.

“Yeeessss…” he whimpers and you press your lips against his forehead: best way to assess a fever.

“Just a little bit hotter than usual; I’ll give you some medicine after you eat and you’ll feel better, ok?”

“Ok,” the two year old wraps his arms around your neck tighter, sniffling.

“What kind of pancakes do you want, honey?” you lift him up higher in your arms, opening the huge pantry.

“Bu’belly,” Aiden points his little finger towards the shelves, spotting his favorite.

“Blueberry. Alright,” you grab the box and turn towards his twin. “Zane, what kind of pancakes do you want?”

The child places his chin on the table, yawning:

“Sto’belly mommy.”

“Strawberries it is. Kase honey?” you ask the oldest, interrupting the fun he’s having with Mia. The four year old is playing peek-a-boo with her and she giggles in the high chair, trying to touch him but he dodges her tiny hand, teasing the little Princess.

“Can I have apple, mommy?”

“Sure can,” you take out a third box, placing it by the stove. “Jaaayyyyyy!!!” you shout so he can hear you from the office. “What kind of pancakes do you want?”

“I don’t care!” you immediately hear his voice.

“I think we’re out of I don’t care pancakes,” you wink at the boys and they snicker, not understanding the joke but you’re being goofy so it’s funny enough. “Here you go,” you help Aiden sit at his place at the table; he doesn’t want to leave your arms but you have to cook. As a reward, you lean over and kiss his forehead, making these very long, strenuous sounds, prompting the rest of the boys to whine, wanting one also.

“Me too, mommy!”

“Me too!!”

“A squeaky kiss for you,” you pucker your lips, granting their wish, “and one for you,” you smile, amazed on how good you got at this stuff.

The seven months old Mia is not moving anymore: her eyes are big, completely taken aback by the sounds you make.

“What is it, love bug? You want a squeaky kiss too?” and her forehead is being kissed also, followed by the silly sounds that prompt her to close her eyes really tight and scream with delight. You laugh, amused on how easy it is to entertain The Joker’s children sometimes.  

“Mia!” Aiden calls her name, followed by his siblings:

“Mia!Mia!”

“Mia!”

She screams even lauder, hyper from all the attention directed towards her while The Joker enters the kitchen, joining the kids at the table. A cup of coffee is already waiting for him and he sips from it, quietly watching you making pancakes, scrambled eggs and hash browns for everybody.

“Awww, the boys are mean to the only girl in the family,” you chuckle, amused at their silly games.

“There are two girls in the family,” J mutters in a low tone and it gets your attention.

“Did you say more coffee?” you inquire since the kids are noisy.

“Yeah,” he answers, upset that came out loud. “I want a refill.”

*************

“Sssttttt,” you signal J to be quiet when he enters Aiden’s bedroom with Mia. The little boy fell asleep cuddled to your body after he was given medicated syrup for his fever. You watched cartoons with him for a while and now you were getting ready to go downstairs. I guess not yet.

“She’s fussing,” he whispers, placing her by you. “I know she’s exhausted since she woke up early. Plus, I had to take her with me to look for you in the crazy snow storm.”

Strong gushes of wind shriek outside the windows, snowflakes dancing in the raging tempest. Despite the immaculate white covering the city, it’s an actually dark morning.

“I figured you know what to do,” he sits at the end of the bed, watching Mia yawn, tired and having her fingers already tangled in your long hair.

“Hey chubby,” you caress her tummy, starting to hum a song, this way she can relax.”You’re such a sweet baby,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head. Mia’s eyelids are getting heavy, comforted by your presence.

“She is cute…for not being my kid,” J snarls, struggling to keep it low, still irked by yesterday’s revelation.

“She is your daughter,” you lift your head from the pillows, frowning. “Who cares about what a paternity test says? Mia’s been here since she was born and you’re the only father she knows.”

The Joker decides not to reply: he actually did want to drop the little girl at the orphanage downtown but something inside him made it impossible to get rid of her.

You continue to softly caress Mia’s cheeks, then massage her tiny fingers and she closes her eyes, listening to the song you’re humming. She smacks her lips, probably believing she has the binky in her mouth when in fact she doesn’t; too tired to care.

“There we go,” you smile, covering her with the blanket.

The Joker doesn’t know if he should bring up something he’s been thinking about.

“You know what, Y/N?” J whispers, glaring at Aiden and pretending to be indifferent.

“What?” you turn your attention towards him.

“If one of these days you get pregnant and the guy dumps you because let’s be real, you can’t keep a man,” he pleasantly concludes and as always you try to protest.

“Yeah, because you say stuff to the guys I like and scare them away!!” “Where’s the proof, woman?! So many unfounded accusations and no evidence. I don’t say anything; your boring self is enough to make them run,” J chuckles and you have a perfect line prepared for him and no chance to say it out loud. “Stop interrupting and let me finish!” he bites his lower lip, reprising the earlier sentence: “If one of these days you get pregnant and the guy dumps you, your kid can call me dad.”

You certainly didn’t expect this outcome and The Joker takes the stunned expression on your face as disapproval:

“Are you trying to say that your kid is going to be better than my kids?! My children can call you mom but your kid can’t call me dad?!”

“I didn’t say that,” you smile, more than surprised by his words and he growls.

“You really mean it ?”

He nods a yes, changing the course of conversation.

“They say the city will be on lockdown for almost two weeks due to the crazy weather.  Trapped in here with you and the brats…Uggghhhhh…” he sighs, aggravated.

************

It actually took three weeks for the weather to get better and J was more than happy to set up some meetings as soon as Gotham came back to life. He sure loves his freedom and being stuck inside for days made him even grouchier than usual. He also asked you to reprise your role as the head of his security, a task you share with Frost when you have to ditch your maternal duties at The Joker’s request.

You are getting ready to go around the club to make sure everything is OK, when The Joker notices you stopped in the middle of the stairwell going down from the VIP room, gazing at something across the dance floor.

“What are you looking at?” J mutters to himself, wondering about what got your attention. He finally distinguishes the object of his ex-girlfriend’s interest: it’s Alex. “What are you doing?” he watches you head over towards the guy you went on a date with recently. “Are you gonna embarrass yourself?!” J huffs, grinding his teeth. “How stupid!” he sneers, bugged for some reason.

The Joker absolutely hates going on the floor, but it appears you’re about to do something dumb (in his opinion), so he leaves the comfort of the VIP lounge, rushing after you.

You can’t wait to get to your destination and say a quick “hi” to Alex when J pops by your side, grabbing your waist and forcefully pushing you towards the bar.

“You’re going the wrong direction, Y/N !” he grumbles in your ear, making sure you can’t escape his grip.

“Huh?!” you turn your head towards him, confused.

“Sit !!” he pushes you on a chair at the bar, snapping his fingers at the bartender. “Her favorite!” he demands and in a few seconds you find yourself in front of a glass half full with ice and whiskey.

The area cleared, people not wanting to be around whatever is going on between you two; it’s very rare to see The King of Gotham walking around the club anyway. Usually not a good thing and nobody is willing to find out the answer.

More henchmen outline the perimeter, making sure their boss is safe.

“What’s happening?” you require to find out, intrigued by his odd behavior.

“Are you going to make a fool of yourself?” J gets in your face, panting.

“What are you talking about?! I was just going over to say hello to Alex. I know I am on security duty, but it will be a fast thing, OK?” and you attempt to flee, not comprehending why he is worked up about.

The Joker’s fingers tighten on your wrist, preventing your escape.

“The Queen doesn’t go to anybody! If somebody wants to talk to the Queen, they come to her, understand? Don’t you have any pride?”

You scoff, having this vexed expression on your face he can’t stand.

“Drink!” he barks before you can reply.

“You know I don’t drink when I do this,” you push the glass away, retracting your hand from his. “You don’t want me to talk to Alex because you’re afraid he will tell me about your threats if I ask him?” you lash out, pissed he has the nerve to interfere with your personal life. You don’t do that to J, it’s none of your business. Not anymore. Hasn’t been for years.

He digs his nails in your arm, discontent with the small rebellion:

“Afraid?! Me?! Of what? Unjustified speculations? Stop accusing me! I don’t say anything to your guys!”

You slowly blink, having the dreadful feeling he’s repeatedly lying on the subject.

“I just know you say things to chase them away because you don’t want to see me happy !” you raise your voice and yank your hand away once more, creating a larger gap between the bodies.

J takes two deep breaths, not enough to calm down though.

“You wanna know what I say to them??!!” he unexpectedly shouts and you gasp:

“You do say stuff; I knew it!!!!”

He gives you a mean stare, disgusted he is actually admitting to the truth.

“I tell them that if they do anything to upset you, besides the fact that you are going to break their neck first, I will PERSONALLY make sure their body is never found again! This is what I say! Are you happy now since apparently I sabotage your happiness??!!!” His words left you speechless for a few moments because you do realize what it means coming from him: The Joker’s strange way of being protective.

“Is this…Is…is this what you say?” you stutter and the lack of an answer makes you quietly reach for the whiskey and take a sip from the shiny glass. It’s sort of needed at this point.

J gets up, not before having the one more surge of entitled wisdom:

“You’re the Queen of Gotham! As the King, am I not supposed to make sure nobody messes with you?”

You watch him stomping away, J’s path cleared by the perplexed bystanders not daring to add to his enraged behavior: he seems to be in a foul mood.

****************

The Joker is out of town and you decided to take the children outdoors, this way they can enjoy the snow. You own a small property close to Gotham that you like to use as their playground. There are 15 more men brought to watch the area, making sure the kids are well guarded and safe. J has enough enemies and you never know when someone would be willing to take revenge on his defenseless, innocent babies.

The sun is shining and it’s pretty warm, a nice and welcomed change from the gloomy weather that kept Gotham isolated for weeks.

The boys are playing a few feet away from you, building mounds of white snow, chasing one another, laughing and having fun. Mia is sitting on a blanket by you, too young to join her siblings. She rattles her toys, talking gibberish and crawling towards the end of the blanket, frustrated when you catch her.

“Not so fast little girl,” you snicker and lift her high in your arms, making her scream with joy. “Hey!!!” you suddenly see Kase slapping Zane and he starts to cry. “I told you not to hit eachother so many times! Com’ere!” you signal for both of them to approach and they come in front of you. Mia is placed back on the blanket while you take care of the problem.

Zane keeps on bawling and Kase looks guilty, his lower lip quivering, on the verge of crying himself since he got in trouble.

“Why did you slap him, hm?”

“He took my truck…” he complains, whining.

“You have to share; you’re the oldest and I need you to be nice to your brothers, ok?” you adjust his scarf. “Do you want to upset mommy?” you scold, wiping Zane’s tears, soothing the red mark on his face.

“Nooooooo…” Kase whimpers.

“Say you’re sorry,” you encourage the child and he hesitates but gets it out in the end.

“I’m sorry…” Kase mumbles.

“I want you two to hug and make peace, alright?” you push them together and your heart melts when they do it. “Now hold hands and go play. I don’t want you to fight, understand?” The kids return to their fun and your attention is redirected towards the small commotion going on at the fence surrounding the property. Your men are talking to a woman and after a few seconds you realize is Anya.

“What the hell is she doing here?” you sigh, gesturing for the guys to let her pass.

She stumbles in the snow, having a hard time walking with her high heeled boots.

“I didn’t think I need permission to see my babies,” she grins and you are already getting mad.

“Are you following us?” you cut her off, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I am. I told J I want my daughter,” she bluntly requests, pointing her finger at Mia.

“Why?” you crack your neck, getting restless.

“She’s not his. I don’t want the boys; he can keep them.”

This woman has such a talent of making you want to step all over her.

“Mia is his daughter and she’s not going anywhere!” you hiss, the henchmen keeping a close eye on the apparent imminent altercation unfolding in front of their eyes.

“But she’s not his, why keep her? He is soooo stubborn, never got the message when I ran away. Why did he come looking for me?!” she crinkles her nose, puzzled. 

“Because he really liked you, you dumb bitch!” you blur out, irritated. ”He tolerated your crap and brought you back numerous times because he really liked you!”

“Are you jealous?” she winks, finding her remark to be hilarious.

“How can I be jealous on trash?” you grumble, bending over to collect the toy Mia just threw at your feet. The boys continue to play, blissfully unaware of who Anya is; they don’t know her so they are not paying any attention to the lady talking to their mommy.

She rolls her eyes, mocking:

“Y/N: the righteous ex-girlfriend with the helpless ex-boyfriend, needing a mother for his children,” she laughs and blood is rushing through your veins faster. “Between us girls, I am not sure why J thinks he’s a sex God or something. Frankly, I had better,“ she smirks, taking your silence on the topic as an temporary alliance between two parties that have nothing in common besides The Clown Prince of Crime.

“Shut the hell up and return to whatever sewer you crawled out from!!!” your anger takes over, barely containing yourself from tearing her to pieces. “His daughter stays where she belongs!”

“Well, if I can’t have Mia…” she pauses, suddenly changing her attitude to a hateful demeanor,”…he can’t have her either!”  

You have just a split second to notice the knife she is fast to take out from the pocket of her coat, nothing else to do but cover the tiny Princess with your body. The knife pierces your right shoulder, the blade exiting on the other side while gun shots resonate behind you, the henchmen doing their jobs of protecting the children and one of their own.

You hear the boys scream and you look towards them to see they are being taken away, which is a wise decision; they shouldn’t see such things anyway. You groan in pain, trying to soothe Mia that’s crying her eyes out, terrified and not understanding why you reject her when she reaches her arms for you.

“Don’t cry, honey, don’t cry,” you kneel in front of the bench, keeping her away from the blood gushing out of your wound and the sharp blade you’re impaled with: proof you managed to save her life.

You don’t need to look at Anya in order to know she’s dead.

“Y/N, are you OK?” you hear voices fading away and Jason lifts you up in his arms, running as fast as he can towards the cars.

“She’s bleeding too much!” he yells at the driver, carefully getting you in the van with the help of two other henchmen. He keeps you in his arms and the car starts moving, but he doesn’t understand what you’re saying.

“Hey, Y/N, you’ll be fine, the doctor will patch you up in no time, OK?” Jason brings his ear to your lips, struggling to understand what you keep on repeating.

“She’s…just… a baby… a …little…baby…” he distinguishes and your delirious mind finally shuts down, the blood loss and the fact that one of the main arteries was severed making you faint.

*************

“Mommy…Mommy…Are you sick?” Kase’s voice echoes inside the dream since you are still under the effects of anesthesia after the 7 hours surgery you were subjected to. You feel soft kisses on your face but can’t react.

“Mommy, wake up,” Aiden whimpers, stroking your hair.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Zane pouts, touching your nose with his.

“I told you not to come in here!” The Joker’s harsh tone makes them all jump off your bed, scared their father will punish them. “She needs to rest, alright? Come on, let’s get you boys out of here!” his temper goes down a notch since the kids seem overly startled.

It all goes quiet, then you sense your lips being kissed and it’s comforting.

“You’re a good mother,” J mutters before bringing himself to leave your side.

************

When you open your eyes, The Joker is there, excited you are awake at last.

“Jesus, woman, I was worried you’ll leave me with 4 brats and no help!” comes out of his mouth instead of a formal greeting. “Can you move your fingers?” J carefully watches and is relieved when he sees they move a bit. “That’s a good sign,” he caresses your bandaged shoulder, the whole hand being strapped in a sling, preventing movement and further damage. “I was afraid you won’t be able to use your hand anymore,” he admits, helping you up so you can sit up in bed.

“I…I rather not use my arm for the rest of my life if it means I can take care of 4 children instead of 3,” you tell him with teary eyes and The Joker wants to cheer you up for once the best way he knows how.

“I totally don’t want to be insensitive and less than a gentleman,” and he halts for a dramatic effect,” but you’ve been sweating in this bed for a day and a half and frankly, I think you need new clothes. Come on, let’s make you pretty before I get the kids in here,” J urges, helping you up. He begins to unbutton the nightgown you were dressed with after the surgery.

“I can do it myself,” you attempt to get rid of him, dizziness taking over.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now!” The Joker ignores your request, continuing to undress you. “It’s been years, but I saw you naked before. No need to fuss!”

Shyness is not the reason you don’t want to be seen naked.

He gets a glimpse at your back and gasps: that’s why you didn’t want him to see you naked.

“You don’t have it anymore!” J sulks, astonished.

He is talking about the huge tattoo you had all over your back when you were together: “Joker & Y/N”, surrounded by a lot of Ha!Ha!Ha!’s: he personally worked on them to match his. It took a lot of time to finish the ink and a lot of laser removal sessions to get rid of everything after you two broke up.

“Why is it gone? Took me weeks!” J goes on, not thrilled with the discovery.

“I didn’t want it on my skin and I don’t want to talk about it,” the nervous disclosure doesn’t intimidate The King of Gotham:

“Why not?” he helps you put on underwear and a fresh nightgown.

“Can I see the kids, please?” you strain to get back in bed, redirecting the conversation towards a better subject.

“Yes,” J agrees, flustered. “I’ll bring something to eat.” 

“I’m not hungry,” you lick your dry lips, resting your head on the pillows, wondering when he will want to talk about what happened with Anya.

**************

The door to your bedroom is cracked and Frost peeks inside, not wanting to disturb for the moment: the boys are in bed, feeding you small bites from the huge platter that was delivered to your bedside. The Joker figured you’re not going to refuse to eat if they do it and the strategy worked.

“You know, Y/N, you’ve been feeding all of them since they were born, they can return the favor for once,” J keeps on yapping, preventing Mia from falling off the bed. She is agitated after you covered her in kisses and cried for a whole year thinking you almost lost her. And then the boys wanted kisses, envious on their little sister, and then The Joker had to ruin the party and tell them to behave because you don’t feel good.

Typical day in the household.

“Don’t expect Mia to feed you,” J underlines the obvious. “She is here only for moral support.”

You smile, urging the boys to eat also. You are drained and weakened but the overwhelming happiness you feel in your heart gives you a boost of energy.

“Sir?” Frost musters the courage to make his presence known.

The Joker goes outside the room, impatient to return inside.

“What is it?”

“Is there anything you’re out of ? Any items that have to be replenished for the kids? What should I send for?”

“Ask their mom,” J points towards you through the opened door. “She knows everything they like and need.”

The boys begin to fight since it seems you took more food from Zane; this is a ticking bomb ready to blow up. Even if you’re full, you try to equally eat from all of their hands, wanting to calm the waters before it gets worse.

Jonny enters your bedroom and The Joker remains behind for a few seconds, watching you chitchat with Frost and telling him what is needed for the children. He never understands how you remember all that stuff. It should be clear by now because… 

A mother always knows.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[violetevents]

oblivion

pairing: shane madej/ryan bergara word count: 1,5k summary: “So, how long have you and Shane been dating?” Jen asks.I

f Ryan had already taken a sip of his coffee, he would’ve done a spit take right now. Instead, he just sends her an incredulous look. “Shane and I are what?”

Or, Ryan and Shane's life would be so much easier if they just talked to each other.

Also on AO3 here

In Ryan’s defense, it has been an absolute hell of a day. After a terrible night of sleep, they had to take an early flight to Austin Texas, and when they got there they immediately had to go to the Littlefield house, where they would be filming that day. Although the house was absolutely beautiful, and definitely gave off a haunted vibe, they barely managed to catch any useful footage, despite spending hours roaming the house. Ryan had eventually called it quits at four in the morning, after nearly toppling down a staircase out of sheer exhaustion.

They’re in their hotel room now, him and Shane, huddled together in the small bathroom. Ryan’s feeling disappointed, distracted, and most of all absolutely exhausted. It’s the only excuse he has for why he leans in after brushing his teeth, and promptly kisses Shane on the corner of his mouth.

“Night,” Ryan mutters, nearly tripping over his own feet when he leaves the bathroom to finally, finally, burry himself in the soft covers of his bed. God, he’s going to sleep for ten years.

He falls asleep immediately, not realizing that Shane never wished him a good night in return, or that his friend is still standing in the bathroom, slightly confused, hand raised to touch the place Ryan’s lips had been mere seconds ago.

--

It’s not. It’s not a thing. It’s just that maybe, maybe, Ryan has feeling for Shane. A tiny little bit of romantic feelings. But honestly, it’s neglectable, it’s not a big deal. He can ignore it, most of the time. It’s just when he is really, really tired, his body has the tendency to act on these feelings, which is quite honestly the worst.

It happens again a few days after the first incident, which they still haven’t really talked about. Ryan is glad Shane never brought it up after, because he’s not sure what he would’ve said. He’s always been a terrible liar, and he’s pretty sure Shane would’ve seen right through him if he’d tried to claim it meant nothing. He’s not sure what Shane would do if he ever found out about Ryan’s feelings for him. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to find out. He’d rather be friends for as long as Shane will have him then fuck it up by getting feelings involved.

It’s starting to get dark outside, and the Buzzfeed office is pretty deserted at this point. It is really only Shane and Ryan left, although Ryan’s not sure why Shane is even still here. Every time he’s looked over at Shane’s screen, he’s been doing anything but working. Right now, he’s scrolling through Facebook, occasionally pausing to watch a video or like a post.

“Okay, that’s it,” Ryan says, when he looks back at his own screen only to realize he’s still staring at the same unfinished outline of the next unsolved episode he’s been staring at for the past fifteen minutes now, without really getting any further. “I’m going home.”

“If you’re stuck on theories I can help you,” Shane says, pausing on one of those ‘tag your friends’ posts and typing something in the comment box. Seconds later, Ryan’s phone beeps. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, what you got?” Ryan asks, packing his back, half expecting it when Shane says, “Aliens.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, halfheartedly. His mind is mostly on his bed, and how there is only a fifteen minute drive between them now. So close.

Shane snorts, “What, you’re going to tell me that isn’t one of the theories?”

It is. Ryan isn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “You come up with the theories, then,” he says, instead. Shane just laughs at that, while Ryan puts on his coat. “All right, big guy, I’m out,” Ryan says, and leans down to give Shane a soft kiss on his smiling mouth. “See you tomorrow,” he adds, and then leaves the office.

It doesn’t hit him until he’s all the way home that he’s just kissed Shane again.

--

The next day, they’re hanging out at Ryan’s place. They left the office after work together, Ryan trying to ignore the feeling of Shane’s hand on his lower back as he’d led him out of the office. Now they’re curled up on the couch, Shane’s feet in Ryan’s lap. They’re watching Mamma Mia, although Ryan’s not entirely sure who picked the movie.

“I think I know who the father is,” Shane says thoughtfully.

Ryan hums, “Tell me.”

“Aliens,” Shane deadpans, and Ryan promptly whacks him in the face with a pillow. “Or maybe her father was a ghost. Do you think that is possible? Can you have ghost babies?” Shane continues, seemingly unbothered.

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, and softly tickles underneath one of Shane’s feet. Shane, as expected, jerks his foot out of Ryan’s lap, and gives him a betrayed look.

“It was the ghosts,” Ryan informs him, and that’s apparently all the incentive Shane needs to lurch forward and start tickling Ryan’s sides.

“No, stop, have mercy!” Ryan exclaims, between bouts of laughter. Shane, however, is unrelenting, and continues to dig his fingers into Ryan’s sides. “You’re the worst!” Ryan shouts, just before the two of them loose balance and topple off the couch in a flurry of limbs.

Somehow Ryan ends on his back, Shane right on top of him, keeping him pinned to the ground. Shane leans up on his hands, so he’s hovering over Ryan, their faces only inches apart. “You okay, little guy?” Shane asks.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes, trying not to get lost in Shane’s eyes. “You?” He stutters out, mostly to distract himself from the feeling of having Shane Madej on top of him.

“Perfect,” Shane informs him, and leans down to press a soft kiss to the tip of Ryan’s nose. Then he gets up, like nothing happened, grabbing the TV remote to rewind the part of the movie they’ve missed. “Hey, do you reckon we could do a musical episode of unsolved?”

“After that stunt you pulled with the Hotdaga song? Absolutely not,” Ryan says, getting up as well, pretending like the tip of his nose isn’t tingling, like his stomach isn’t in knots, like he doesn’t want to slide across the couch right now and kiss Shane again, properly this time.

Instead he sits down, and lets Shane swing his legs in his lap again. On the screen, the entire casts sings about taking a chance. Ryan ignores them, and rests his hand on Shane’s ankle.

--

It keeps happening. When Shane leaves later that evening, he gives Ryan a kiss on the cheek and wishes him goodnight with sparkling eyes. When they’re in a haunted house a week later, and something spokes Ryan, Shane pulls him close and presses a reassuring kiss to his forehead.

And Ryan, Ryan finds himself craving those kisses, those small shows of affection. It’s ridiculous, because it’s not, they’re not dating, they’re not actually a thing, but at times it truly feels they are. They hang out all the time now, and Shane keeps kissing him, even though truly, Ryan was the one who started it.

He indulges himself sometimes, too. Giving Shane a soft kiss before he leaves the office for the day, on those rare days they don’t hang out after work. Leaning into it when Shane kisses his cheek. Purposely stepping closer to Shane when he gets scared because he knows Shane will pull him close.

It’s horrible, and he knows he’s only setting himself up for heartbreak. Shane probably thinks it’s just an added layer to their friendship, probably doesn’t think anything of it, and eventually Ryan’s going to have to face the fact that that is all they’ll ever be. Just friends.

But for now it’s so easy to let himself dream, to let himself believe he can have this, even though eventually it is all going to be ripped away from him.

--

The whole charade comes to a screeching halt only a few weeks later, and it’s, once again, all Ryan’s own fault.

They’re in the kitchen together, Shane busying himself with making them coffee while Ryan stands next to him, rambling on about some plans he has for the upcoming season for unsolved, about which movie they could watch tonight, about that new Mexican place around the corner they should really try sometimes.

There’s others in the kitchen, but just like always when it’s just Shane and Ryan, everything else kind of fades away.

So when Shane hands Ryan his coffee, Ryan doesn’t hesitate to mumble a soft “thanks, big guy,” and press a kiss to Shane’s shoulder, who smiles down at him.

“No problem, little man,” Shane says, and saunters out of the kitchen. Ryan watches him leave, but when he turns back to his coffee, Jen is suddenly in front of him, scaring the absolute crap out of him.

“Jesus, Jen.”

“Just Jen is fine,” she informs him, and then, “So, how long have you and Shane been dating?”

If Ryan had already taken a sip of his coffee, he would’ve done a spit take right now. Instead, he just sends her an incredulous look. “Shane and I are what?”

“Dating,” Jen says, cocking her head to the side. “For how long?” Like somehow Yoda-ing the sentence is going to make it have more sense.

“We’re not dating,” Ryan says, because they’re not. He’s pretty sure he would know.

“Right,” Jen says, squinting her eyes at him. “Does Shane know that?”

“I am pretty sure he does, yeah,” Ryan says, because, well, Shane would’ve told him if they were dating, right? Besides, it’s not like Shane even likes him that way. “Anyway, I have, like, work to do. Bye Jen!”

He doesn’t have any work to do. Actually, he just finished all his work about half an hour ago. But right now, he needs to not be around Jen questioning his relationship with his best friend and maybe confront said best friend.

“Hey Ryan!” Shane says excitedly when Ryan comes back, and then quirks an eyebrow when he sees Ryan’s frazzled state. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just,” Ryan falls down on his chair with a laugh, “Jen seems to think we are dating.”

Shane frowns at him. “Well, we are, aren’t we?”

“No?” Ryan says, confused, “I mean, I’d know if we were, right?”

“Right. Right, yes, of course, how silly of me,” Shane says, abruptly standing up and starting to haphazardly collecting his stuff. “I, uh, have this thing. This thing that I have to do that is… not here. Bye, Ryan.”

And then he’s gone.

“Shane?” Ryan calls out, confused, but Shane has already disappeared.

“I’m not sure what you did, but I think you fucked up,” Jen says, suddenly appearing at his shoulder.

She doesn’t even scare him this time, he’s too focused on staring at the spot Shane has disappeared in and trying to think of what went wrong, and how he has to fix it. “I. I don’t know what I did, I just, I told him you thought we were dating and then suddenly he goes ‘well we are, right?’ and I’m like ‘no, because I’d know if we were’ and then he suddenly ran off. That’s weird, right?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Jen says, sitting down in the chair Shane has just vacanted. “This seems to be a classic case of miscommunication. It appears that Shane also thought you two were dating. Looks like the only one who didn’t get the memo was you. And now Shane thinks that you don’t want to date him.”

“But I do!” Ryan exclaims, not even caring that he basically just told his biggest secret to Jen. He needs her to understand that it was never his intention to hurt Shane.

“Well, then what’s the problem? Go to him! Talk to him! Fix it!” Jen says.

Ryan nods thoughtfully. “I think I have an idea.”

--

It’s by far the stupidest plan Ryan has ever had, but he’s apparently been a fucking idiot, and he can’t imagine how Shane must feel, who just assumed they’d been dating all this time only to find out Ryan didn’t think the same and he needs to fix this, and if that means being an idiot then so be it.

So that’s how he ends up outside Shane’s apartment, right underneath where he knows Shane’s window is, with a Bluetooth speaker in his hands. He takes a deep breath, selects a song on his phone, turns up the volume, and hits play.

Almost immediately, Shane’s window swings open, and Shane’s head pops out. “Ryan?!” He yells, and after a pause, “Is that Ghostbusters?” He sounds completely flabbergasted.

“Yes!” Ryan yells back. Shane slams the window close again, and Ryan sighs deeply. Oh well, it was worth the try. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice in song after all. Ryan thought it had been funny, but as he turns off the speaker and turns to leave, he thinks it might’ve been a stupid idea after all.

But then a door swings open behind him, and when he turns back, Shane is there, in the doorway, in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, looking rumpled and soft and positively beautiful. Ryan wants to kiss him and kiss him and never stop kissing him.

“Shane,” he says instead. He’d prepared a whole speech, but now that he’s actually here, and Shane is actually in front of him, living and breathing and absolutely gorgeous, he has no idea what he wanted to say.

“Ryan,” Shane says, “You’re here.” He looks so hopeful, that Ryan immediately regains some of his confidence.

“I am. I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step closer to where Shane is standing. “I was a bit of an idiot.”

Shane smiles sheepishly. “I mean, I guess we were both a bit of an idiot. I shouldn’t have assumed we were dating. It’s just that you were kissing me and we were hanging out all the time so I thought-”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, that’s. I don’t mind. That you assumed. It makes sense, really. I want that, actually. I want to date you. I just. I would like to also be aware of the fact that I am dating you.”

“I would like to date you, too,” Shane says, “And you beware of the dating.”

“Good,” Ryan says, grinning. He knew, but hearing Shane say it makes butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Good,” Shane parrots. “I like your choice of song, by the way. Very romantic.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, still beaming, and then strides forward so he can finally kiss Shane properly.

--

(“This is a date, by the way,” Shane says, three weeks later, when they are seated in a little Italian restaurant just a few blocks from Ryan apartment.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “I know, you idiot. I asked you on this specific date in the first place, and you’ve already informed me of the fact that this is a date three times just on the way here.”

“Just making sure that you know,” Shane says, grinning at him, “Like, are you sure you are aware that this is a date? Are you positive?”

Ryan kicks him in the leg.)

[chasingforeverandaday]

Stop the World & Melt with You: Chapter Four

Peeks up from behind rudimentary barricade: Heyyyyy... this is not when I thought this would be going up. Sorry? 

In my defense, it has been a few crazy weeks (I turned 21! And my cousin got engaged! And I could not get this chapter to cooperate!). Also I rewrote about half this chapter and added in a bunch of Edgar. I'm not even going to attempt to say when the final chapter will be up, because I will inevitably fail. But, hopefully soon. Same on Past is Prologue.

Chapter Summary: A foot pop, a pinkie swear, and a break-up... in that order.

Also on AO3

Rolling back his shoulders and cracking his neck, HG adjusted his grip on the flowers in his left hand as he bounded up the steps. Tonight, he and Lenore had reservations at her favorite restaurant, where they would have dinner and dessert, and then perhaps go for a romantic walk amongst the lights of New York before returning to her apartment to say goodnight. Reaching the sixth floor, he gathered himself with a deep breath before knocking firmly.

The door immediately swung open as a dazzling Lenore grinned at him. “Hi. Oh, flowers!”

Mentally patting himself on the back while she smelled the roses, he took a moment to admire Lenore and the breathtaking red dress she was wearing. “You look beautiful Lenore.”

“Why thank you, my dear Professor.” Smiling coyly, she gave him a blatant onceover. “You look quite dashing yourself. And not a grease smudge to be seen, and really you aren’t even working with the tech most days, yet honestly every time I see you, you have-”

Cut of by her own gasp, Lenore stumbled into his arms as he yanked her into him. Her hands fluttering on his chest, she looked about to chastise him when he grinned at her unrepentantly and covered her open mouth with a kiss. He liked to think that made up for cutting her off, and she didn’t seem to be mad at him, if the enthusiasm with which she was kissing him was any indication.

Absorbed in her as he was, the abrupt clatter from just behind Lenore startled him. Especially when she pulled away to curse under her breath and rub the heel of her foot. Confused, he asked her, “What was-”

Shaking her head, she reached around his neck, bringing them back together. He vaguely heard (or rather, felt) her mumble, “Nothing, back to the kissing,” against his lips before he became quite preoccupied once again. Deciding he wanted to try something a bit different, he gave her one more searing kiss before removing his lips from hers altogether.

Peppering kisses along her jaw, he teased her with light nips, finally coming to a stop just behind her ear, nose buried in her hair. Breathless, Lenore placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently until he was in front of her, bumping their noses together. “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining, like at all.”

“You did say that was how I was supposed to greet a woman I’m going out on a date with.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and I assumed it would be in my best interests to make sure I fulfilled every outlined duty henceforth as your boyfriend. Tell me, how am I doing thus far?”

“Wells, you are definitely meeting any and all requirements. Now, I might be persuaded to continue with that greeting, if you’re amenable of course.”

“As the lady suggests.” Smirking, Lenore pulled him back to her lips, threading her hands into his hair. He smiled into her mouth as he grasped her waist, bringing her in closer again, until they were flush against each other, chest to chest.

Gradually, HG began to notice the uncomfortable whine emanating from inside the apartment. He also remembered they were making out in the middle of the hallway, completely within the view of his best friend, otherwise known as his girlfriend’s brother, who was scowling at them from the couch. Reluctantly removing himself from Lenore, HG’s eyes darted between her confused face and Edgar’s increasingly red complexion.

Realizing they’d stopped kissing, Edgar stood up and crossed his arms. Radiating brotherly disapproval, he mockingly stated, “Oh, so now you realize I’m right here.”

Realizing what HG’s distraction had been caused by, she turned in his arms, facing Edgar. “Well, we were a bit distracted…” Lenore smugly informed him.

Goading him had probably not been the wisest course of action, as Edgar exploded in indignation, throwing his hands up. “Really, you were just going to ignore me? Because that’s mature. This was my apartment first Lenore! You just moved in without asking! Hey what are you- Lenore, HG, seriously. Stop trying to… I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to do, but stop it for Christ’s sake.”

In the midst of Edgar’s ranting, Lenore had reached into HG’s back pocket and squeezed, immediately focusing his attention squarely on her, upon which she dragged his head down and -

“Oi, that’s my sister!”

“So? He’s my boyfriend. Your point is?” At this point, HG decided to let Lenore handle her brother; Poe sibling spats were never something to get in the middle of.

“You can’t just… do that. You’re in public. So quit it with all the, all the-”

“Kissing? Making out? Being gross and happy and disgusting?” Her voice had grown more and more saccharine sweet as each word dripped out of her mouth.

“Stop rubbing it in my face will you? Just, not while I’m here, okay? I’m happy that you guys are happy, God knows it took the pair of you long enough, but-” I’m not happy rang unspoken in the tense silence that followed.

Heartbreaking understanding on her face, Lenore finally walked over to Edgar and wrapped her arms around him. After standing there awkwardly for a moment, he returned the hug, resting his head on her hair. “Oh sweets. Yes, I’ll stop making out with HG in front of you. Pinky promise.” Holding out her hand expectantly, she waited. Knowing her brother was just being stubborn, she poked him until he acquiesced, finally hooking their pinkies together and shaking them.

When Edgar suddenly started to smile at her, HG became more confused. “He makes your foot pop.” Apparently usage of non-sequiturs run in the Poe family.

“I know, it’s amazing. You’ll have that someday, I know you will.”

Feeling confused and more than a bit out of place, HG glanced down at his watch, immediately noticing they were in danger of running late. “Um, Lenore? We should probably be leaving soon if we want to make the reservation.” Not that he wanted to break up the moment she and Edgar were having, but he did actually want to go on their date.

“Yes, yes of course.” Leaning her head back, she adopted a stern look as she made eye contact with her brother. “Edgar… we’ll talk later.”

“No we won’t.”

“You can bet your ass we will. Bye baby bro.” Kissing his cheek, she flounced back to the door, pulled on her coat, and picked up her clutch.

Wiping off the red lipstick print in exasperation, Edgar rolled his eyes. In the manner of one reciting his side of a fond argument, he replied, “You are eight minutes older.”

“Respect your elders boy!” Grinning, Lenore linked her fingers with HG’s and headed for the stairs.

Sticking his head out the door, Edgar called, “And bring my sister back in one piece Wells!”

Rolling her eyes up at her boyfriend, Lenore yelled behind them, “Goodbye Edgar!” After hearing the door slam close, she laughed, a sound HG would never tire of listening to.

“I shall never understand how siblings work.”

“I’m not exactly sure you should consider Edgar and me a prime example of healthy sibling interaction. We’re kind of weird. But mostly him.”

“Of course, you’re completely normal and not strange at all.”

“Hey, I never said I wasn’t weird, just that it’s mostly him. After all, normal is boring. I appreciate a bit of endearing eccentricity in my life.”  

“I’m assuming I should feel flattered here.”

“You can feel however you want, I‘m going to go catch us a cab. It’s cold and we have a reservation to make.” Trailing after her more slowly, HG watched as Lenore jostled tourists out of the way, elbowing and dodging her way to the curb. Raising her hand, she quickly hailed a cab and glanced back over er shoulder at him in mocking triumph. Racing ahead to open the door, he helped her inside then climbed in after, tripping over his foot and landing awkwardly half on Lenore’s legs.

Chuckling, she gave the driver the name of the restaurant and helped a blushing HG out of her lap. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

“That you are babe, that you are.” Lapsing into contented silence, they held hands the entire ride. Once they’d arrived and paid the cabbie, they made their way inside. Learning they had a few minutes until their table was ready, Lenore made a beeline for the bar, pulling HG along behind her. Martini and wine glasses in hand, they returned to the hostess, who led them to their table.

After being seated, HG couldn’t hold his question in any longer. “What does ‘he makes your foot pop’ mean? Your brother said it earlier and I assume it was about me, but honestly I cannot decipher what on earth that could possibly mean?”

Taking a deep breath, she began with, “So you know the movie Princess Diaries?”

“I know vaguely what it’s about, yes.”

Eyes wide, she stated vehemently, “Okay, that needs to be corrected, we’re watching it together.”  

Surprised at her intensity, he nodded his head fervently. “Yes, of course, my dear Lenore.”

“Good, it’s always been one of my favorites.” Shaking her head a little, she returned to her previous thought, though much more calmly. “Anyways, so Mia, the aforementioned princess of Genovia; she wants her first real kiss to be like in the old movies, when a girl would get seriously kissed, her foot would just kind of pop behind her. It was a visual device to show she was into the kissing. And happy.”

“Your foot popped when you were kissing me?” He felt absurdly happy at the prospect.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Immensely.” And smug, he also felt a bit smug.

Rolling her eyes in mock derision, she haughtily continued, “Yes, Professor, my foot popped and I knocked it against the table near the front door.”

“Oh, that was you?”

Tilting her head, she drawled, “We don’t actually have ghosts living in the apartment. That’s just a story Ernest came up with after knocking a bunch of shit over because he was drunk.”

“I know that, but I was a bit preoccupied at the time.”

“Of course you were, I was there.” Pausing, she beamed at him. He laughed, always admiring of her self confidence. “Does that satisfy your curiosity then?”

“You explained the foot popping thing, but why does Edgar know that?” Because really, that was the aspect of the whole puzzle that was mystifying him.

Sipping her martini, she adopted a nostalgic expression. “Edgar may or may not have been forced to sit through that movie an ungodly number of times when we were younger.  I mean, he didn’t object to it as much as when I made him watch Mean Girls, so I’d say I won. Oh, and he can totally quote-”

Cut off by her ringing phone, she looked to him apologetically before pulling it out of her purse and answering it. “Hey- wait, babes, I need you to slow down. Take deep breaths.” Glancing back across the table, she mouthed Annabel to him. Watching as she focused her attention back to her best friend’s voice, HG tried to determine what was happening based on the half of the conversation he could hear. “Okay, what happened?” Whatever it was Annabel had said, it was unexpected, as Lenore’s eyes grew wide in shock. “You and Eddie broke up?” That would certainly justify the shocked expression.

“No, no, no. Sweets, no, it’s not- well then he’s a jackass Anna. No, I’m not saying I told you so, I’m saying- that’s not what I’m saying Anna Banana. I’m saying I love you and obviously I’m on your side.” Heart sinking, he had a feeling this would be another attempted date that ended far too early.  “No, I’m sure I won’t change my mind. Hon, I don’t even know what even happened, but I could never hate you.” Catching her eye, he mimed signing a check, mouthing should I ask for the bill? to her. She nodded sadly, though not before mouthing I’m sorry.

As he was flagging down their waitress to pay for their drinks, he saw Lenore bolt upright in her chair. “Wait, don’t go up there. No, Edgar’s there. No, I’m not saying avoid Edgar, I’m just saying maybe, okay yes, I’m saying maybe avoid Edgar right now.” Finally getting the attention of the server, HG quickly asked for the check to be brought over.

Turning back to Lenore, he saw her slightly exasperated expression. “Annabel, I’m not actually in my apartment. I’m out on a date. Yes, with HG! Who else would… Sweets, we got together a while ago. He asked me out right before… You are not a terrible friend, there was kind of a lot going on, especially if you and Eddie were having issues.”  

Lenore listened again for a moment before seemingly making up her mind to take charge. “Okay, you know what, I’ll be over soon. I’ll grab some Ben and Jerry’s and pajamas and we’ll have girls night, just the two of us, okay? We can watch chick flicks and- okay no chick flicks. Action movies? Sports movies? Disney movies? Alright, Disney movies it is. No, it’s fine, we’re fine, I’ll see you soon. Love you, bye.” Hanging up, she put her phone down before rubbing her forehead.

Reaching across the table, he grabbed her free hand, rubbing the back of her palm. Quietly, he informed her, “The waitress is coming with the check soon, but if you want to head out now, we’re taking separate cabs home anyway, so I can understand if you want to get back to Annabel sooner.”

Standing up, she walked around to his side of the table, pulling him into a hug. Muffled against his shoulder, he heard her murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it sucks! I’ve been so excited for this, especially after last time. The universe hates us, we’re cursed or karmically screwed over!” She huffed, stomping her foot childishly.

“Or we can just blame Eddie.”

“Or that. I like that plan.”