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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 5 years ago

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WARNINGS!

PART 2 OF 3

His best friend, lying on the side of the road in a heap.

“Clay! Can I borrow your phone?” He shouts as he runs into the main room. Clay tosses his cell and Kozik calls.

“Ask her if she’s home!” He hands the phone to Gemma.

“Hey darlin’ you make it home?” She asks, eyeing the blonde who stood so close she could hear him breathing.

“Is Kozik asking?” She snips.

“I am. I was worried about you. One of the guards said you got a taxi. You make it home?” There’s a long pause.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I’m fine. Tell Kozik sorry. I didn’t mean to scare him.”

“It’s okay! I’m sorry for yelling at you!” He shouts, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Just tell him sorry. I’m home fine. The girls are coming over. Tell him it’s best if he doesn’t come around so much.” Kozik stumbles away, heading out to the garage. Not come around so much? His best friend all of a sudden hates him? Of course he messed it up. He always does.

“I’m sorry!” He cries to no one.

“Kozik?” Tig asks.

“Yeah?”

“You okay man?”

“No. She doesn’t wanna to see me. I don’t know what I did. I mean. This was supposed to be a fun time for us. The two amigos hanging out. But no! I had to ruin it. I always do. I’ve never yelled at her like that before. But, she OD’d on ecstasy. She found it in my bag. She took too many. She could have died, man! And it was on me!” He cries, jabbing his fingertips into his own chest.

“Dude. It’s okay. You messed up. We all do. She just needs a chance to cool off. It’s a little unresolved sexual tension. You probably made her too horny with that stripper act.” He chuckles.

“Man, I just don’t get it. It’s almost like she was jealous of that crow eater and she was so mad about the lap dance. Like, we were just having a good time, ya know?”

“Kid, you ever think that just maybe she likes you more than a best friend?” Tig asks as he walks away. He takes a moment, breathing deeply and heaving it out, thinking about it for a moment.

“Koz! Let’s load up and go!” He hopped on his bike and went to work without another thought.

“Girl, you gotta tell him!” Teagan coos, handing her a mixed drink.

“No! I mean, he obviously doesn’t feel the same way. For Christ’s sake, he gave me a lap dance and ten seconds later was dragging some chick back to our room and banging her.” She groans, taking a drink.

“I mean, yeah. But he still thinks you’re just his friend. He doesn’t realize that you’re in love with him.girl, but how was the lap dance?” She wiggles her eyebrows at her friend.

“Girl. I literally thought I was going to explode. It was so hot. He was literally some kind of—I don’t know. I wish he was naked.” She bites her bottom lip and grins.

“Girl! Yes! You two would be so damn cute together!”

A year passes, and she finishes packing her last box and climbs into her car. She was moving out of Tacoma and into Charming, a job had lined up and she was ready to move. As she pulled in she noticed a Dyna parked next door. Chuckling to herself, she started unloading her car. Four boxes down, she found the heaviest box that she fought into the car the first time. Groaning and starting to drag the box towards the house, up the sidewalk, she hears talking but keeps pulling.

“Aw shit, babe?” Calls a voice across the yard. The rough voice was familiar and when she looked up her eyes met Herman Jack Kozik’s. Turning, she looks behind her.

“I’m sorry?” She asks, furrowing her brows as she gets closer.

“Hey baby! Your stuff goes over here. You make it down here okay?” He asks, greeting her with a discreetly warm hug and kiss to the forehead.

“What the fuck is going on?” She whispers, looking up at him so confused.

“Just grab a bag, come over here. I’ll explain once we’re in the house outta earshot.” He whispers, taking her box from her and smacking her butt. She sneaks in her own house, grabbing a suitcase and heading over to Kozik’s. How had she managed to get a house next to him? The black car parked down the street watching her as she headed into the biker’s house.

“Hey Birdie. There’s some crazy motherfucker out there kidnapping women that look just like you. They think he’s from Tacoma and that he’s doing it on purpose. And I heard the realtors this morning chatting loudly about you buying that house. Just, can you stay with me until we catch this sick bastard? He’s raping and torturing these girls and dumping them in Charming. San Joaquin Sheriff’s took over and they think it’s us doing it to scare some business outta town so they won’t take it seriously.” He chats, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not making any bets on a lap dance?” She snorts, side-eyeing him with a twinkle in her eyes. With a grin, he grabs her up, squeezing tightly as he spins her around and around.

“I missed you so much Birdie. Christ. I’m so sorry about that shit. It’s been a rough year without you, I won’t lie. I’ve been into some shit that I probably shouldn’t, but then again, you were my voice of reason so.” He shrugs, grabbing his wallet off the table. “You wanna get dinner?” He asks.

“Koz, this is all some crazy shit, and you’re hungry? You definitely haven’t changed one bit.” She huffs, shaking her head. “Can we take the bike?” She asks, looking up at him with a smile.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.” He laughs, grabbing her hand leading her to his bike.

“Wait!” She sprints to her car, grabbing a little box from her front seat and running back. Popping it open, she pulls the adhesive cat ears out of the box and sticks them to her helmet. He chuckles, trying to not to laugh. Looking up at him, helmet on, his hands caress her face for a moment before he climbs on the bike and kicks it to life.

“That’s some kinky shit.” He nips over the roar of his bike as she climbs on, hugging him as they head to find some dinner. Pulling into a small burger shop in town, Kozik parks the bike, chuckling at her helmet with cat ears as she gets off. He grabs her hand and tows her inside. Tig was sitting in a corner booth with Happy and Chibs, mowing over some big ass burgers when their eyes meet Kozik towing her in. Tig is the first to jump up, gripping her in a hug.

“Thank christ, man. His moping was getting a little out of control.” He smiles, patting Kozik on the shoulder. “Koz, can we talk over here?”

“She knows man. It’s okay. I got her.” He assures, his hand gripping her hip and pulling her against him.

“We’re gonna catch this son-of-a-bitch, Birdie. Don’t you worry.” He assures, gripping her shoulder before sitting back down. Kozik finds them a booth, letting her inside before sliding in next to her.

As they arrived back at Kozik’s she slips inside and changes in the bathroom. As she reappears, he’s standing in the kitchen, beer in hand, shoulders tense and a look of despair hung on his tired features.

“Kozzie?” She hushes, afraid she might scare him. Opening his eyes, he smiles weakly at her.

“Hey, I’m good don’t worry.” He pushes himself off the counter and finds himself standing in front of her, his arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders and holding her against his warm, bare chest. Leading her to the couch, he bustles about to lock all the doors and windows, closing all the shades and blinds. Finding his place on the couch next to her, he slings an arm around her shoulders. Her eyes drifted around the room, taking in the bare walls and the empty room, all but a tv on the other side.

“Kozzie?” She asks, eyes looking at the table. A little white dust was in the groove of the table in front of them. Pulling out the drawer, she. Finds a card, a small baggy of cocaine, a dollar rolled up, and an old picture of them laughing tucked against the drawer. “Koz-“

“Don’t. Don’t even start this.” He begs.

“Koz, I just-“

“Yeah, I know. Shame on me, I’m a shitty human being. Just, don’t fuckin’ say anything. Okay? I don’t want fight with you right now. It’s the first night I’ve seen you in a year.” He murmurs, pulling his arm away from her.

“But—Herman Jack! You listen to me, you’re my best friend. That won’t change. Okay? But come on, cocaine?” He huffs and gives a dry laugh.

“You can’t just leave it alone. You gotta keep going. You gotta-“ He stands and stalks into the kitchen. She hears a slam and heads into the kitchen.

“I do! Ya know why? Because heroin was a bitch but I didn’t give up on you then did I?” She shouts, standing in the doorway. He slowly turns, head down. “And I’ll be goddamned if nights of no sleep and screaming is gonna stop you now. You got me? If you want my help, you know where to find me.” She misses, grabbing the door handle. His boot stops the door from opening.

“You can’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so fucked up. Christ, I’m sorry.” He whispers, grabbing her and holding her against him.

“It’s okay, Kozzie. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just-“

“I love you. I love you, Birdie.” He coos, his eyes meeting hers.

“I love you too, big lug.” She chuckles, pulling him back towards the couch.

“No, Birdie. I mean it. I mean it seriously.” He pulls her back to him. His blue eyes looking down at her.

“Koz-“

“I know. I know. Shit, I’m—I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll take the couch, feel free to take the bed.”

“Why do you keep our picture in there?” She asks, eyes flicking to the drawer.

“Because I try to put it down when I look at it. I tell myself it’s a choice. I keep thinking your face will be enough to stop, but it normally just makes me remember how bad I fucked up.” He whispers, eyes flicking form his boots to her face.

“What do you mean fucked up?”

“What? You left without saying anything. Told me you didn’t want to see me again. Told Gemma you didn’t want me coming around as often. I left ecstasy unattended, you almost died. You almost died. I used you for money, for a stupid fuckin’ bet. I was showing off that crow eater in the room we shared. I literally asked you if you were stupid. It was my fault that you left like you did. I was drunk the first two weeks. I won’t lie. I was always drunk. I hated myself more than anyone could hate me. I fought a lot of people. I was a mess. I can’t take back what I said, but I realized something after that few days together. I’m the worst fuckin’ person. I’d kill for you. Your safety is my number one concern. And that when that crow eater was—I imagined you. You know how sick that is? I hate myself.” He groans, tears filling his eyes. Leading her to his room, he hands her a blanket and waves good night. She stood in shock, heart hurting. He was a sweetheart, of course, she loved him. Taking a moment, she steps out to find him perched in front fo the table, a line in front of him.

“Don’t you dare.” She bites, making him jump.

#imagine #cute imagine #herman kozik imagine #kozik #herman kozik #kozik imagine #kozik oneshot #soa #sons of anarchy

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naromoreau · 6 years ago

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Hooked on you

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x F! Dep

Rating:Nsfw, angst and fluff and smut

I'm dedicating this to the absolutely awesome @leavenopathuntaken for encouraging me with her amazing art and words.

Thanks to @absurdwanderlust and @deputyshitlordsantana for encouraging this shit.

__________________________

Well fuck. Of course all had ended tits up. Not that he’d other expectations, ‘cuz when it came to consider a scenario involving him and a chick like Dep, things just-- just didn’t work out. And it hurt. Worst than the well known kick in the nuts. Hell, he’d take an extra ration of those just so, so- Fuck. Just to get out of that emotional dry spell.

He ain't an idiot. There’d been something bouncing back and forth. Small, real smooth hints that made his heart thud and his mind spin at night when the memories wheeled around. But outta the blue, one day she just-- slow fade him. Nothing too obvious. Just the same show he already knew, the same sad song he’d already danced. Maybe he’s just overthinking it.

No. The little voice inside his head has it right. She’d been joshing with him, that’s all. Just pure teasing between friends and he’d swallowed hook, line and sinker. Like a complete moron.

It’s a matter of time now. I mean, it may be the end of the world or whatever but-- She’s gonna find someone. ‘Cuz she’s hella pretty and, and, not that he’d check her out or nothing, but yeah. She’s gonna find someone. And the thought just tastes wrong.

Why he had to fall for her like that? He ain’t a fucking teenager to keep believing that when push came to shove, she’d stay or say what he craved to hear. And fucking Christ in heaven, this time he’d been hit hard. Shovel on the head kinda hard.

“Thanks for coming with me, man,” she says, severing his brooding thoughts.

Even looking at her is downright painful, the dimples of that smile making his stomach twist in knots, and those eyes, man. Sparkling something that Sharky is never sure to grasp entirely. “It’s ‘aight, shorty, I got you.”

“I know you ain’t a fan of the Wolf’s Den, so I really appreciate it.”

He ain’t a fan of anyone who throws glimmering mistrust in Dep’s direction, not after watch her bleed in his arms, clumps of sweaty wayward hair sticking to dusty cheeks, as the fear rends his heart to shreds. Not when it’d been real easy for her to just kick everyone to the curb and run away. It’s rude and just outright disrespectful. “Nah, it's cool dude, I can deal with the claustrophobia for a bit,” he lies.

She chuckles with her eyes riveted on the road, but the frayed smile tells Sharky she’s far from feeling fine.

“Dep?”

“Mmm?”

“Uh, I know it’s not my business but uh, you ok?”

White-knuckled grip at the wheel before she cracks a lopsided grin in his direction. “Sorta.”

He ain’t sure if it means he should or could pry or pester her further, or if she’s politely telling him to fuck off. So he shuts his mouth. Self-preservation at its finest.

“I mean yeah,” she continues after a few seconds, but her voice is all wavering now. It makes Sharky uneasy, “but I haven't seen Staci since I got him out of Jacob’s bunker and I don't know, I guess-- I guess I’m a little rattled to see him. It could’ve been me y’know?”

“Don’t say that, man.” Never say that, he wants to say, but his voice is harsh and--. He swallows, thick. Better to chuck that idea out the passenger window, ‘cuz thinking about a reality without Dep is just-- better not to amble in that direction.

The car skids to a stop outside Wolf’s Den, and they hop off making their way inside. He nods at Wheaty on the entrance. That guy is promising, real potential right there, and maybe he can stop by to check on his vinyl collection while Dep’s busy visiting her friend.

At his side, she fidgets, frowning and giving small exhalations as if she were preparing to run a marathon. Sharky cocks a brow. He’d never seen her looking so tense, not even after he rescued her from that flossy motherfucker’s bunker.

“Hey, chica, uh, want me to stick ‘round?” Sharky almost reaches his hand to brush the hunched line of her shoulders, closing his fist to thwart his impulse, ‘cuz touchy-feely is not a line of action he recommends to himself. Not now. Probably not later also.

“No, it’s ok. I just-- I’ll be fine.” She gives a gingerly squeeze to his arm and his brain takes it as a cue to send butterflies fluttering down in his gut. Out-and-out juvenile.

He gulpes and smiles in a silent acquiescing, trudging away from her, every line and wrinkle on his face twisting in flat-out dejection.

He doesn’t snatch his eyes away from the threshold until her footfalls fade in metallic echoes.

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

He does a mental inventory of all the goodies Wheaty allows him to take back to his trailer park. Lotsa fun stuff to blast while melting peggies and swaying his fuckin’ pantless ass just to show them Seeds they can’t take him down. It’s been well past an hour and he juggles with the vinyls in his arms meandering through narrow corridors, skirting piles of supplies cluttering up on the floor, trying to reach the room Eli always assigns to them when they’re in the premises.

The darkness is uninviting, scrambling his sense of direction and time. And he’s hungry and hopes Tammy doesn’t appear around a corner ‘cuz she ain’t that nice. Then a muffled sob. A strained groan. Sharky joggles to the room closer with the door ajar. Somebody is losing their shit and he can’t blame them. He’d be close to if it wasn’t for-- Whatever. But help your neighbor and all that shit, even though he ain’t the most adequate candidate for that stuff. He’s more than aware of that. When he gets real close, he sets apart two distinct pitches, and his heart leap to his throat recognizing one as Dep’s.

He should’ve taken a step back and get the hell outta there, ‘cuz it ain’t gentlemanlike to go snooping around in other people's business but Dep is there. And he needs to know she’s fine. He peers through the slight opening watching Pratt crying all over Dep’s shoulder, hands clinging to her waist borderline hysteric. He really feels bad for the guy, having spent a good chunk of a month tucked away in Jacob Seed’s personal rendition of hell.

But in the flick of a second his breath freezes in his lungs, the buzz of his blood roaring in his ears. ‘Cuz Pratt is kissing Dep and as much as it’s gut-wrenching to see he can’t tear his eyes away. Like a fucking masochist. Every swipe of his tongue and every second of shared breath stings deeper and deeper, until it’s too much and he forces his legs to unnail and wonkily take him someplace else. Anywhere but there. An ache rises under his breastbone, eyes chockfull with tears, arms tingling and dropping his cargo with a loud clunk on the floor. Breathe. Miraculously he reaches the familiar room with bed bunks and closes the door for good measure.

What the fuck had he been hoping for, really?

Like she’d just turn and say hey man, actually I’m into you? Real fucking stellar. Of course that Pratt fella had the upper hand. He has a real job and not a shady piss business, probably not one forced check-in at County Jail and they both even click in the age department. Not that he thought of himself as old but she’s almost twelve years his junior, not that that shit matters when he’s a complete loser in every aspect of that pathetic thing he dares to call life. He climbs to the upper bunk, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, and just maxes out in seething silence. ‘Cuz it ain’t fair to her but that jealousy thing man, it seeps and twinges and soaks him all, making him clench his jaw and grit his teeth.

Sundry feels whirl up inside him, heels diggin’ in the thin ass cot and fuck, there it is, that feeling bursting under the surface. Fuck. The need to set some shit on fire, like he usually does when he’s crashing down. Down, down.

“Shark?”

He should’ve jumped and run away, but he’s three feet above the ground and has great value for his bone’s integrity.

“‘Sup Dep?” There’s a flickering wave in his voice. Shaky. Unwanted, definitely not convenient tears stinging his lashes. He oughta nip them right in the bud ‘fore she sees them and yeah. That’s not--

“Hey, are you ok? I just- uh, just wanted to know if you wanted to go and eat something?”

Yeah, no thanks. Just to sit there and watch them both-- His stomach rolls over, tight and heavy as lead. “I’ll pass, uh, not, not really hungry today, sh- man.”

Shorty. Sounds fucking outta place. Something born out of his shy-ass attempt to say more. Needing more but ending with less. And he’s waiting for her to jerk her hand in that particular, very Dep like way to say good riddance, you’re not worth my time. But she stays.

His stomach growls of hunger just then. Fucking traitor.

“So, uh, not hungry then?” She moves one pace closer to the bed bunk. Yeah. She's not falling into it.

“Nope.”

And she really needs to go, and leave him alone. Gnawing his misery. Regaining his breath that now is just scorching his lungs. And he doesn't see. Eyes closed under a warm forearm.

A gentle tug at the hem of his pants, makes him groan in his raw throat. “Shark,” she says with that mellow tinge, “what’s going on? could you just--?”

She won’t let that shit fly. ‘Cuz he knows her. ‘Cuz she’s Dep and Dep is a problem solver. He bites his lip. Blinking, once, twice. A blessed drag of his hoodie over sodden eyes, and he prays. Begs. That she just won’t notice.

“Uh, I’m, I’m kinda ragged up, Dep.”

“Seriously man, what’s going on? You’re starting to freak me out-- could you just-- come down here. Please.”

Dude, it’s cruel. ‘Cuz she really cares. It’s such an earnest pleading he finds his legs moving despite his own blockade. When was the last time someone acted like he mattered? Like they actually cared?

He’s down. And she’s sitting on the bunk studiously looking at the wall. Yeah. Allowing him the courtesy of pretend it’s all normal. ‘Cuz Dep ain’t stingy.

Sharky swallows. “So uh, here I am, what, uh, what do ya need, Dep?”

“You can just sit here, y’know? I don’t bite. What’s got into you?” She scoffs.

She gives something like a general glance in his direction. And he sits. ‘Cuz not doing it is just plain giving that’s something’s off. And things would be better if he just had a beer can in his hand.

“What happened,” she asks finally looking him in the eye.

His mouth goes dry. “I uh, I hit my foot with the uh, the pole of the bed.”

She gives a soft snort and let it pass. “I talked with Staci,” she says. Sharky would’ve prefer to being hit by the bat of a grimy peggie than trekking into that direction. “He’s in really bad shape, and I just-- God, Shark, you should’ve seen him, there’s no trace of the guy who used to steal my coffee in the mornings.”

He knows he should say something. But his words are swallowed by the yawning chasm in his stomach. He hums an agreement.

“And I just-- I was thinking, y’know? I’m barely holding my sanity here and it’s all because of y’all.”

She rubs a hand across his. The column of her neck cranes, cranes ‘til those green eyes pierce into quicksilver ones and he can’t hack that shudder. A wild one. She reaches an arm and runs experienced fingers along his jaw. That warm, indistinct thing curls in his chest. Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard gulp.

He sifts her face. Pent-up reactions lingering in the moment. Hooded eyes, tugged up lips. Suspended. She takes a deep breath and is the last thing Sharky can hear before--

She plunges.

Her lips are pressed to his, his fizz of thoughts lost in one stroke. He’s not expecting it when she opens her mouth. Breath goes shallow but his tongue dips, dips up and down. Circling. Greedy. Eyes closed, it’s too perfect to last. An unwanted flash before his eyes. Black beard, tan skin. Not his. Not him. Fuck.

He pushes her off.

“What the fuck Dep?” He hates it. Hates himself. He should just take it and be happy with it. He can’t. Giveaway blur on his eyes. “Ain’t you with Pratt or somethin’?”

“What?”

A sharp blow. More like a, like a real keen strike. Right to the face. But he’s right. And now he’s not sure if he should say it but he will ‘cuz Sharky’s mouth has a mind of its own.

“C’mon Dep, I uh, I saw you back there, I mean it’s cool, y’know? Don’t sweat it, but I’m uh, I’m not into steppin’ into another dude’s territory.”

He’s sure he’s doing right. Being a gentleman and all that shit. ‘Cuz he’s not that much of a fuckin’ asshole. No matter how much he wants it. Jump in and dive.

“You saw it?”

Her hand is gone. Flat, emotionless voice reverberating in the tiny space.

“Yeah.”

“And-- did you happen to hear what happened after that?”

“Uh, nope. I mean it’s not my business to be skulkin’ around to listen convos--”

“But it’s your business to take fuckin’ conclusions without all the information?”

“Uh--” Wordless, lame-ass response. Not much to say to not look like, like a goddamn idiot.

The line of her shoulders ease down, and she lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “It’s not what you think, Shark,” she says and he clings to that believe so he bites his lip, to not screw up his chances. “He was just-- It wasn’t nothing romantic y’know? I’m the first fuckin’ person he sees that actually knows him from before all this clusterfuck started.” She shakes her head, a crink around her mouth. Sad, gloomy smile. “It wasn’t as much as a kiss, as uh, I don’t know-- cling to a lifeline I guess.”

She smiles, a hand finding his cheek again. He actually leans into it now, fears now flaky as she scoots closer. Warm thigh against his. “Y’know? There’s a-- a common practice in the department,” she says, thumb rubbing circles on his stubble, and he’s doing everything he can not to sigh like a fuckin’ damsel, “to always focus on the things you care right? Your family, your pet, whatever. You know who I think of every morning?”

He’s paying attention. For the first time he is. Brain nailed to her train of thoughts. “B-Baby Carmina?” he says, voice thick with things he doesn’t comprehend still.

She laughs. Clear, ringing bells kinda clear. “I love my goddaughter but uh, I think you’re playing dumb, dude.”

His pulse flutters. Quick. Escalating into speedily beats, palms damp. He’s all jittery and dizzy, ‘cuz she’s looking at him, sporting a vexing grin. “Uh, Dep? My chick radar is kinda rusty y’know but I’m-- I’m picking some signals here? Just uh, just tell me what to do.” The words roll in a whisper, mouth a dry mess.

“I’ll show you.”

She speaks with a sense of finality just to kiss him as soon as the last vocal fades in the air. Soft lips against his chapped ones. Soon her tongue follows, sweeping along every nook and cranny. Warm and teasing, wheedling low moans from him with every push.

He holds her. Closer. Tighter. It takes him a moment to daze off and click back. This. This right here. All he’d ever wanted. Fuck, it feels good.

He runs his hands down, fighting gravity to not fall back. ‘Cuz they’re sitting on a friggin bunk and he ain’t sure she wants to--

Fuck, she does.

Her hand slips past the waistband of his pants, under his threadbare boxers. Erection now throbbing between her fingers. He pulls her down, arms around her waist.

They fall in a panting heap. Muscles and curves pressing him right where they should be. Like a fucking puzzle. A perfect puzzle.

She slides off him for an instant, and he complains. A groan. But she smiles, shedding off her clothes and breath catches in his chest. He’s burning. Sweating like a pig in the summer. His threads are gone in a heartbeat, not thinkin’ about the beer gut he has come to terms with, or the other fuckton of things that could sour this moment.

“You sure ‘bout this, Shorty?” He asks, ‘cuz he has manners and, and not that his pulsing cock is pressing between her thighs already.

She dips down. Kisses him again. Slowly, sweetly, taking her time. “Are you?”

“You really askin’ me that question, amigo?” he says breathless, both hands making an arrow direct to his dick.

But it's not just that. He’d never wanted anyone like this. Not just a fuck. Not just the feeling of being spent but hollow. He needs the aftermath more than he needs the sex.

“Look, gotta be real honest with you, shorty ,” he says, feelings finally frothin’ out from deep-six within him, “‘cuz you uh, need to know ‘fore all gets weird. I just, I think I love you man.”

He doesn't know what he’s expecting from Dep. Cool, controlled Dep now staring at him, bare and on top of him. What a fuckin’ sight.

“I love you too Sharky.”

Certainly not that. Clean, direct answer, no shades or ifs. It feels weird. Like watching a familiar movie with a different ending. A happy one. He smiles, white teeth through thin lips.

He shifts his body, mouth now roving over her collarbone and she arches. Soon he’s all over her nipples. Okay. He’s good at this. This is where he excels.

He sucks her breasts, touching the warmth of her skin, reaching to every place he can find. The drag of his lips is making her whimper, and his downstairs complain. Twitching. Impatient.

“Fuck, Shark,” she says dreamily, fingers squeezing his cock and lining him up to her entrance.

Slowly, she takes him in. Maddening tightness, slick and hot engulfing him one inch at a time. She eases down on his dick and he’s just about to lose his cool ‘cuz, ‘cuz he’s balls deep inside her.

“Oh, shit, shit, Dep, fuck,” he whines. He grips the side of her thighs, groaning deep at the back of his throat.

She hums, lazy smile tagging a long with a roll of her hips. Oh shit. It’s taking him a goddamn effort not to ram artlessly and let go. But he ain’t a selfish ass.

“You feel so good, Sharky,” she says, drawled words all low and throaty.

That’s his name, that’s his fuckin’ name right there. “Shit, babe, you’re the one to talk.”

Air is suddenly not reaching his lungs. He’s high of her, trying to find his pace, amidst overwhelming sensations. He rocks his hips, steady movements among the gut-twisting little moans she’s giving. At least he’s doin’ it right.

Dep’s bottom lip disappears in her mouth, and heat pools in his groin when her rhythm increases. There’s a blush spreading on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose when he thrust harder to meet her downstrokes.

“Fuck, Shark, yes!”

His fingers dig in her hips to find leverage, sinking heels on the mattress to rock faster, relishing the awe on her face and the blurry haze on her eyes. God, he loves seeing her like this. He’s not sure how long he can take it, his heart already pounding in his ears, head spinning under the delicious friction in every pounding. But sure as fuck he’ll try. She lunges forward, knees burrowed in the cot at the sides of his thighs and palms curled around his shoulders, regaining control, now actually fucking him into the mattress.

“Jesus, fuck, Dep--” he manages to stutter, “y’gonna be the death of me y’know?” He means it and it’d be a fuckin’ good way to go west.

She licks her lips, and he catches a faint smirk and pupils blow wide before he surges to meet her, hand cradling her head. Teeth clicking, tongues swirling desperately, steamy breaths puffing while he’s sure he’s about to break. His mouth trails off, going down the rim of her jaw, dappling her skin with bruises through hard sucks.

The pressure is unbearable, and he’s close, so damn close, feeling the sparks of searing hotness flaring up from his balls, fanning out ‘til his pelvis and his spine seem about to explode.

“I can’t- fuck, Dep, I can’t.”

She kisses him again as an answer, crying out the moment he angles his hips. The hug of her walls is too much, clenching around his cock, pushing him to the final inches of his climax.

“Dep, I’m ‘bout to--” He tries to pull off, but she keeps him pinned in place.

And if he needs more assurance, she roots her hips down, eyes locked on his. “It’s ok, Sharky, I want you to.”

And he loses it. Fucking Christ, he loses it.

He pulls her down, groaning, burying a final, heavy sigh against her skin. His body tenses, mind-wrecking spasms running along his dick and his balls and he’s dazzled by the popping lights under his lids. Sharky holds her, peppering her face with light kisses as the throbbing fades and the spurts stop, the buzz in his ears lowering to zero.

“That was good,” she says playing with a curl of his hair, draped on him.

“Fuckin-A, babe.” His words are still catching in his throat, a hand placed on her lower back.

He wallows in the moment. Just feeling, not thinking. Trying not to be surpassed by the little things he has never appreciated after the fact. ‘Cuz it wasn’t with her. Yeah. Soft breathing, quick heartbeat thrumming against his chest, the way her skin shines under a thin sheet of sweat. And sweet Jesus, that lavender scent.

“So uh, this means we’re like--together? As in, as in a couple kinda together?” He finally asks. He ain’t bad reading signals but now, he needs the assurance. The certainty. He needs the words leaving her mouth, one hooked to the other.

“Nah, you’re just hot and I wanted to jump your bones,” she says with a grin, “of course it means we’re together, as in a couple kinda together, you big oaf!”

Sharky finally relaxes, feeling the strain of the task and the raw emotions soaking in his bones. “Y’know shorty? Don’t get take this the wrong way but uh, I’m actually kinda beat down, so Imma take a shut eye real quick, ‘mkay?” And then he quickly adds, “please, don’t go.”

She laughs, pulling the blanket over them both and curls against him, warm and comfortable snuggled against him. “You don’t need to apologize, Shark and I’m not going anywhere”

He nuzzles the strands of hair splayed on her shoulder and dozes off to the soft rhythm of her breathing, coming to terms with the awesome reality tickling under his fingers.

#yeah i'm back on my bullshit #sharky boshaw #female deputy #staci pratt #far cry 5 #my writing #sharky boshaw x deputy #sharky boshaw x female deputy

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aggressivelyclueless · 6 years ago

Text

Notice Me, Sam-pai

prompted by @fabnamessuggestedbytumbler

“Every time Ember comes to the human world, she can't help but notice Phantom's human friend... Sam, was her name? The sight of her makes her stomach do weird flips and she's always oddly anxious around the girl. It's not until one day when Kitty corners her about it that she realizes it- she has a crush on Sam.”

Words: 6042

Warning: excessive swearing. mostly a shitpost. had fun anyway.

"I can't believe I blew it!" Ember shrieked. Kitten watched an empty crate fly across the room, and phased through another one that would have otherwise hit her. It splintered against the metal delivery doors behind her; when Ember was upset, the disused back room of the guitar shop was usually where she'd be found. Sure enough, Kitten had heard the destruction from half a block over. If she was honest, though - she was beginning to wish she hadn't asked. "Ember," she said patiently, "It can't be that bad. I've blown it before, too - we all have - " Ember whirled on her, furious. "Not like this, you haven't! What do you know, anyway? You weren't even there!" "Well, maybe not," Kitten admitted, "but - " "It was going off without a hitch, too!" Ember shouted, "I had him this time - I really had him! - and I was gonna kick him into the dust for good! It was gonna be awesome!" "He's beaten you before, and you've never taken it this hard," Kitten noted with a frown, "Are you sure you didn't - ?" "Fuck off!" Ember cried, ponytail flaring up again. Tears of anger and frustration welled up in the corners of her eyes, and when they fell they took half her mascara with them. "Ugh, stupid goddamned no-good piece-of-shit ghost bastard motherfucker!" She swung her guitar over her head like an axe, decimating another crate. "Hey, calm down!" Kitten exclaimed, taking a step back anyway in case Ember decided to take a few swings at her instead of the next doomed crate. "We can come up with another plan - " "I don't give a shit about the plan!" Ember roared, surrounding herself with flames. "Fuck the plan! Fuck the ghost boy! Fuck you! Fuck me! Fuck everything! Fuck!" Kitten retreated to the doorway. She knew Ember would burn out soon. Her outbursts were hell but they never lasted long. Still, it did make her a little nervous. "Aw, come on, don't be so hard on yourself - " "Like hell I won't!" Ember screamed in blind defiance. She smashed another crate for good measure, but it didn't help. She was burning herself out and she knew it; refusing to acknowledge it concretely, she opted instead to simmer down and wallow in self-pity. She sank down into a heap on the floor, still fuming. "It's all my fault, Kitten. I blew it." Kitten loosened. She floated back to Ember's side now that she'd finished destroying things, and took a seat on the cold concrete floor. "Ember," she started, in the most encouraging voice she could muster, "You'll get him one of these days - " "Oh, shut up, Kitten," Ember groaned. She wouldn't meet Kitten's eyes, glowering instead at the guitar which lay discarded by a pile of splinters. "This one's on me." "It is?" said Kitten, "What happened? Won't you tell me - ?" "I fucking froze up. That's what," Ember snapped miserably, "I'm a damned rock star - I don't just do that! There's got to be something wrong with me..." Kitten could sense Ember's shift - the melodrama would start up any second now, and she couldn't see a way to prevent it. She hesitated, but then asked anyway: "Why did you, then? I thought you said - " "Shut up! I know what I said!" Ember barked, using up the last spark of anger in her. "I meant it, too. I was this close - " (she held up two fingers, less than an inch apart, to illustrate) " - one power chord away from kicking his stupid spandex ass into next week. Then some human shows up outta nowhere and kills my style - god, I'm so useless!" Kitten frowned. "Some human?" "One of the ones he hangs out with, I think - " (she sniffled loudly) " - which means I should have seen her coming - I should have known - but there I was like some sort of idiot - and next thing I know he's got that stupid fucking thermos, and - " "Wait, hold on just a minute," said Kitten, frowning. The gears in her head were turning - when they spat out an answer for her, her eyes flicked back to Ember to confirm what she was thinking. "You stopped and stared, didn't you?" Ember gave her an affronted scowl. "No, of course I didn't, how stupid do you think I am - ?" "No, hear me out, would you?" Kitten pressed, her eyes widening as she came to the full realization of what was happening. "It's like when Johnny and I go out sometimes - " "Oh, spare me," Ember interrupted, "I don't want to hear about your lame greasy boyfriend - " Kitten glared. "Hey, cut it out, I'm serious! Sometimes we'll be out on the town and someone'll catch his attention - he always says they don't, but - " "I'm not looking for anybody," Ember retorted, before Kitten had even finished, "That's stupid." Kitten paused. She thought about it for a moment, but then shook her head. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, as if anyone might overhear the conversation. "That's the same thing he says too, but I'm starting to think maybe he is. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it yet, but - " she caught herself before she derailed too far - this is about her, not you. Save it for later, Kitten. " - look, point is I think I know what's going on. I think you have a crush." "What? That's the dumbest thing - !" Kitten crossed her arms. "Well, she somehow caught you off-guard, even though you knew she was going to be there. Tell me, Ember - what was she wearing?" "What?" said Ember, "How's that going to prove anything - ?" "Just tell me," Kitten insisted, "In case I see her sometime." Ember was certain she was being baited; she glowered disapprovingly, but then relented with a defeated sigh. "Black half-tank and combat boots. Little ponytail, purple lipstick, and - oh, dear god..." Kitten's expectant stare widened into a triumphant grin; her suspicions had been confirmed. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, jumping up off the floor and doing a quick spin, "I so knew it! You - " (she pointed one finger) " - have a crush!" "Do not!" Kitten wasn't having it. "Do so! You didn't just see her! You stared long enough to notice her boots, Ember! Don't you get it? That means you love her! You love love love - !" "Quit it!" Ember exclaimed, a little more harshly than she'd meant to. Despite herself, she could feel her face beginning to flush blue. As if Kitten wouldn't notice, she turned away. "I do not! She's a human - and besides, the last time I had a crush on someone was when I was still kicking, remember? I can't go and screw around with that stupid romance junk again - " "You're in for a rough time, then," said Kitten, no longer grinning. She returned to her spot on the floor in front of Ember, and gave her a serious stare. "You can't ignore this stuff, Em. That's not how it works." "Okay, pretend for a second that maybe - maybe - I do like this chick," said Ember, still refusing to admit that she did, "What the hell am I supposed to do about it? In case you haven't noticed - I'm a ghost! The hell am I gonna do, knock on her door one night and ask her to dinner?" "I can't figure this stuff out for you," said Kitten, trying to sound wise, "But I'd say maybe start by talking to her? Find out what she likes. Ooh, and find out if she's even single. That helps." Ember groaned. Kitten might have been her best friend at the moment, but she wasn't the brightest ghost out there. Great, she thought, I can't tell anyone else about this - all the advice I'm gonna get is gonna have to be from her. I'm doomed.

The full moon gazes silently over the town. The people sleep in peace, unaware of the horrors of the night that creep outside their doors. The dead have risen, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight. They could be anywhere - skulking around in the alleys, hiding in every shadow, waiting, ready to strike at any moment - they must be stopped. Only one thing stands between them and the sleeping town of Amity Park, and that's me. Danny Phantom, half-ghost superhero extraordinaire, ready to fight evil at every turn, and, um - wait - aw hell I ruined it - "Is he doing that thing again?" Sam whispered from atop the roof of the apartment complex. She and Tucker were up high enough to see half the town; there was a pair of Fenton binoculars between them (they'll spot a ghost two miles away! Jack had assured them - in plain fact, they were just binoculars), and they'd been keeping an eye on Danny's patrol for the past half-hour. It had been unusually quiet tonight - his thermos was still completely empty, even after scoping out all the usual hot spots. Tucker nodded. "Yeah. He's doing it. Hey, quick - " (he shoved the binoculars back into Sam's hands) " - check it, he's doing the stupid pose and everything - " Sam gave the dial a slight adjustment to bring Danny into focus. Sure enough, there he floated, centered under a flickering streetlamp like he was on the poster of some mediocre haunted-house film, and his movements were comically dramatic. He disappeared around the side of the corner store a minute later, and Sam handed the binoculars back to Tucker. "You think we should tell him?" Tucker thought about it for a moment but then shook his head. "Nah." Danny was almost finished. No ghosts tonight - I can't tell if that's a lucky break or really fishy. The alley ahead of him was a dead-end; he phased through the bricks, like he did most nights, and came out in between two shops. Man, I bet Sam and Tuck are almost as bored as me. Wonder what they've been up to? His breath suddenly froze, and he paused. Finally! I was starting to wonder where - A hand clamped over his mouth, yanking him through the side of the shop and to the darkened back room. He pulled himself free and whirled around; there floated Ember McLain, ponytail ablaze and guitar slung across her back. "Ember?" Danny exclaimed, "What do you want? Didn't we just have this fight like four days ago? What's with - " he reached down, hoping to make the fight quick - he was having a lucky break, dammit! - but the thermos had disappeared from his belt. He spotted it in Ember's hand, and made a grab for it. "Hey, did you just - ? Gimme that back!" "No way! Back off!" Ember demanded, holding the thermos up out of his reach. She kept it stubbornly away from him as he made at least three grabs for it, and finally pointed the thing at him to make him float back and put some space between them. "Would you quit it," she snapped, holding his glower for a moment to make sure he wouldn't come at her again. "Look, if I give this stupid thing back would you cool your jets for a sec?" "Me?" Danny cried, wanting to tackle her but keeping his distance anyway, hands raised, "You stole my thermos and you're still pointing it at me and I'm the one that's gotta cool my jets?" Ember took a half-step forward. Her glare hardened. "Shut the fuck up! I'll use this thing! I mean it! It's not comfy in there, y'know!" Danny stiffened, seething. She was probably right, he reasoned. He couldn't imagine the inside of a thermos to be terribly roomy, especially on busy nights when they had to share space. Reluctantly, his eyes turned from the open end of the thermos back to Ember. "Fine. I'm listening. What do you want." "Oh fucking finally," Ember loosened all at once, capping the thermos and tossing back in Danny's direction. She floated down to the counter by a spare register and sat, elbows on her knees. "You really don't understand anything, do you? All I gotta do is show up and you wanna blast me to the next town. I didn't even do anything, for fuck's sake - " "I said I was listening," Danny snapped, returning the thermos to where it belonged thank-you-very-much, "Didn't say I liked it." Ember sighed. "Right. Well. This is gonna sound really fucking stupid. Ugh, can't believe I'm telling you this. You better not tell anyone about this, and I mean it - " "Hey, I'm not promising anything!" Danny argued, a little more shrilly than he'd meant to, "You were gonna stick me in my own thermos - !" "Shut up, dipstick!" Ember yelled, "Jesus fuck - !" Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Really? You throw five fucks at me in a row and you still can't just call me dipshit - ?" "Shut the hell up, I said!" Ember screeched. Her ponytail had been relatively well-behaved until now but it was beginning to flare up again, and she gave Danny an agitated huff. Only after he had actually shut the hell up did she open up her mouth again. "Look. It's about that friend of yours. The cool one. Now you gonna listen to me or not?" Danny, against his better judgment, nodded. "Great. So after that big fight we had - I was talking to Kitten about it, and she made me figure something out." Just thinking about it made Ember's stomach turn; she hadn't felt that in a long time, and she supposed that was just about the clearest sign she was going to get that Kitten had been right. Out with it, Ember. If he laughs at you then whack him. "It's that friend - Sam, I think?" "What about her?" said Danny with a frown. He didn't really like where he thought this conversation was going, but listened anyway. Ember groaned. "I think I like her." Danny faltered. This was definitely not where he had thought this conversation had been going. "What?" "You heard me, dipstick," said Ember, abrasive even when she was doing her best to open up. Attitude was a given; she was sixteen, after all. "I know it's stupid as hell, but - " "Yeah, it kinda is," Danny agreed before he could stop himself, cracking a small grin, "Dunno if you noticed, but you're a ghost - " "You think I don't know that!" Ember snapped, not quite angry but still agitated, "I know how this sounds, okay? You think I decided this was gonna be a good idea? News flash, dipstick, it wasn't! I had no say in this!" "Oh holy hell, you're actually serious," said Danny, sobering in an instant, "You're not even a little bit kidding. You actually for real like her. That's - I'm gonna be straight-up honest with you here - that's not something I thought I was gonna hear tonight." Ember shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, no shit. I didn't think I'd be the one saying it, either. First time I saw you two I thought you were gonna end up together - " "We're not together!" Danny defended, "It's not - we're not like that." Somehow, that didn't make Ember feel any better. "Look. I can't believe I'm gonna say this - and I mean it when I say I'll kick your ass if you say a word about it to anyone - I might need your help on this one. I know we don't really have the best track record - " "You want me to help you set up a date with Sam," Danny said slowly. Somehow, it didn't sound less ridiculous out loud - and now that he thought about it, that was also on the list of things he hadn't been expecting to hear that night. "You know how crazy that sounds, right? Why would I wanna help you out, anyway?" Ember scowled. I knew he was gonna say that, the little shit. Good thing I've got the dirt on some people. "Because if you do then I'll drop you the latest on what Technus has been working on. One thing, though - he'd better not find out you heard anything from me or I'm never gonna hear the end of it. I got enough shit going on, you know?" Danny considered her offer. He hadn't heard from Technus in a while - he'd dropped entirely off Danny's radar lately, and now that he thought about it that was probably a bad sign. He turned back to Ember, his mind made up, and held out one hand. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah. I'll help you out on this one." The knot in Ember's gut dissolved. Relieved, she took Danny's hand. "Deal."

Three nights later, Danny was able to give his parents the slip. It had become somewhat of a hassle for him lately; after a major fight a couple of weeks ago, they'd caught him out past curfew and had grounded him. His patrols were suffering for it. He'd been keeping Sam and Tucker updated via text; if he went out, he'd ask them to meet up. Most nights, they could. This time, he slinked out of the house on his own. The guitar shop was dark, but he knew as soon as he got close that Ember was there. He slipped into the shadows, vanishing through the cracked window in the alley, and materialized on the concrete floor. "Hey." "About time you showed up," Ember remarked, with less than her usual amount of sarcasm. If anything, she just sounded nervous. "I kicked Kitten out an hour ago. I didn't wanna tell her anything - she'd spread word to half the Ghost Zone by the time you got here." "Were you ever going to tell them?" Danny asked, "I mean - if things work out, at least - that doesn't sound like the kind of thing that's really feasible to keep secret - " Ember snorted. "Yeah? This from a ghost who comes from a family of ghost hunters - that doesn't mean much, kid." Danny shut his mouth after that. She had a point. "So this Sam," said Ember, cutting to the chase, "What's she like?" "You mean, as a person?" Danny asked, "Guess you don't really pay much attention - " "I didn't until recently!" Ember said defensively, "I guess for a human she seems cool." Danny nodded. "Yeah. She's the best. Well, most of the time. She's ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, you know - " "What does she listen to?" Ember interrupted. Danny paused. "I - dunno, does it matter - ?" "I'm a fucking rock star, kid," said Ember flatly, "If anything's going to give me the quickest answers, it's going to be what's on her playlist." Danny thought briefly about it and then pulled out his cell. "Hold on, lemme see if she's got - hey, cool, she's got a pile of stuff on Spotify - take a look at all this, would you?" He dropped the cell into Ember's hands. "I've never heard of half this stuff, but - " "Me neither," Ember admitted, frowning. "Man, I got a lot of catching up to do - wait, TSOL?" Danny didn't follow. "Huh?" "Jesus, I used to listen to those guys all the time!" Ember exclaimed, "Holy shit, Bad Religion's still kicking? Fuck me!" Danny frowned. "You've heard of that stuff? I've never heard of any of it. It's all either super old or super obscure - " "Well, yeah," said Ember, still not taking her eyes off the list of songs on the screen, "The Damned, Bauhaus, Asp, Lycia, All Time Low - hard gothpunk, by the looks of it. I'd bet anything she cares what people think a little more than she'll probably say she does - she's got anything that looks like it might be even semi-popular sorted out from the rest. My guess is she'll only listen to the better-known stuff when she thinks no one'll find out." Danny frowned. "How can you even tell? Why would she - ?" "Because," said Ember, rolling her eyes, "She can't say she's a hyper-rebellious goth punk if she listens to anything that got too famous. I don't blame her for liking it, though. This shit's good." Danny shrugged helplessly, still a bit lost. "I mean, I guess you're right, but - " "Hey," said Ember suddenly, setting the phone down, "This is gonna sound really crazy. What if - what if I wrote her something? No, that's cliche, I'm so stupid - " Danny was quickly coming to the realization that he wasn't going to be as helpful as he first thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand - but he'd never really thought about doing anything like this for her. Here was Ember, on the other hand - she'd just read Sam with a peek through her Spotify, for crying out loud. "I dunno," he found himself saying, because he felt he had to say something, "What if you did write her - ?" "It'd have to be really spectacular," Ember frowned, determined, "It'd have to be like nothing else she's ever seen in her life. A whole live concert, maybe - fuck, I can't do this. You're the one that hangs out with her all the time. Throw me a bone here, would you?" "I'm thinking!" Danny said defensively, "I've never to asked her out before either, you know!" Ember groaned. "Some help you are." Whatever she decided to pull off - she was certain it was going to be embarrassingly inadequate. Quit freaking about it, dumbass! Just think! Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better. Staying on the topic too long almost made her dizzy. How am I gonna impress her? She probably hates me! Finally an idea came to her all at once. "Holy shit, I've got it." "Got what?" Danny asked, interrupted from his own mess of half-baked ideas. He glanced over at Ember for an explanation. She turned to him, now excited. "I'll give her a song, alright - and I know who's gonna back me up. Lemme see that list again, would you?" Danny reluctantly handed over his cell. "What are you getting at? Back you up - ?" "Yeah, baby," Ember's grin widened, "Oh - oh, here we go. She's got Hell on here. This is gonna be amazing - " "Hold up," said Danny with a frown, "Are you sure this isn't gonna turn into an evil plan or something - ?" "No, these guys," Ember turned the screen to him, showing a group shot of six scrawny musicians dressed up like demons, complete with freakish horns and fangs, "Hell. Looks like she's got everything they ever wrote - even the mediocre stuff. These guys are all dead, too - she's never gonna see this coming. Holy shit." Danny stuffed the cell back into his pocket. "You're going to bring a whole band back from the dead?" "Not as hard as you think, dipstick. I got connections. Hey, listen - I gotta make sure this doesn't flop. I don't even wanna think about if it did. That's where you come in, kid. So here's what I'm thinking..."

It had been a long Friday, and Sam was ready for the weekend. Class had just let out; she shoved herself in between two jocks to get to her locker and grab her stuff. She shoved them an awful lot, and she supposed she'd feel worse about it if they ever decided to stand anyplace that wasn't directly in the middle of the hall. She could see Danny coming down from the corner; Tucker would be at least another minute, since his last class of the day was halfway across the building. She opened up her locker - just algebra for this weekend - and grabbed her textbook. She didn't notice the neatly-folded envelope sitting on the shelf almost until she had slammed her locker shut. She paused, frowned, and turned back. It sat plainly in front of her. The envelope itself was black as night, and the front read, in elegantly spidery red letters: Sam. She picked it up, her frown deepening, and turned it over. Even the back was impressively goth; blood-red wax sealed it shut, stamped with a stylized skull. She glanced over her shoulder, as if anyone might have seen it, before giving it a second look-over. It almost pained her to tear it open, but curiosity compelled her to. She swore she caught a whiff of something as she pulled the note out, and a secondary sniff confirmed it. Roses? She opened the folded note. It read simply: Crawl out of your coffin at sunset. Meet me at the cemetery. I've got a surprise for you. Sincerely, a bleeding heart Bleeding heart? Sam could hardly believe it. Did I just get a goth love letter? She turned it over, hoping for a name, at least, but found nothing. Who could have - "Hey, Sam," said Danny, making her jump, "I was thinking we could maybe go and find a good movie tomorrow and - hey, what've you got there?" "What, this?" Sam blustered, immediately shoving it behind her back, "Nothing! Nothing at all - why do you ask?" Danny opened his mouth like he was going to ask anyway, but then decided against it. "Yeah, okay. Tuck and I were gonna hit up the Nasty Burger on the way home. Did you wanna come?" "Yeah," said Sam, wholly distracted, "Sure, just - give me a minute..." Her voice trailed off, and she barely waited until Danny had turned his back to stuff the letter - carefully, though - back into the envelope and into the side pouch of her backpack. Her mind was suddenly abuzz; she knew most of the goths in school, and none of them had handwriting half that good. Who sent me that note? Part of her was scolding - you shouldn't really care, you know - but she couldn't help it. She knew she'd be thinking about it all afternoon, at the very least - probably all the way until sundown. She realized it hadn't even occurred to her not to go. Why shouldn't I? The cemetery's in the middle of Danny's route. If anything happens, he'll show. Well, she reasoned, he'd show if he wasn't still grounded. With the note stashed safely in her backpack, she turned and trotted out the front doors of Casper High. Danny and Tucker were already down the block, and it took her a minute to catch up to them. "Sorry about that," she said absently, "Got held up by some stuff." "Yeah?" Danny asked, sounding like he might not have been entirely listening, "Like what?" Sam frowned. You may as well tell him. Just mention that it's not important. "Would you believe me if I said someone sent me an anonymous love letter?" she asked in the most uninterested voice she had, rolling her eyes for good measure. "What?" said Danny and Tucker at the same time. Sam shrugged. "They want me to meet them out in the cemetery later. You think I should even bother?" "Do it," said Tucker, before Danny could say anything, "That's just about the gothiest place in town." "I mean, I guess, but - " Sam conceded, but then stopped herself before she said anything else. Caring as little as she did took a surprising amount of effort, and it only took one misstep to let on too much. She turned to Danny, determined to get a second opinion in order to appear to make up her mind - clearly because of how not-interested she was. "What do you think?" Danny gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Beats me. Go if you want. Come to think of it - the cemetery's on my patrols anyway. I can stick around if you want, in case something happens." Thank fuck. She just nodded along anyway, her mind immediately turning back to puzzling over the note. She'd never let on, but she was getting increasingly excited about it, and she found herself glad that neither Danny nor Tucker pressed the matter - that meant she had the entirety of the afternoon to wonder uninterrupted. By the time she got home, it was still on her mind. The sun still had another three hours before it'd even think about setting, and she got the feeling it was going to be a very long afternoon.

The last ray of sunlight disappeared behind heavy clouds. Fog had begun to collect in the lowest dips in the ground, and the air was deathly still. Crickets chirped, unseen, and headstones cast shadows like crooked teeth across the hilly landscape. Sam pushed the heavy iron gate open; it creaked quietly, and she let it swing shut behind her. She had to admit, it was a good night to be goth. She couldn't have picked better circumstances, even if it did set her a little bit on edge. Don't worry about it. Danny said he'd be around. She spotted a shadowy figure perched on one of the marble gravestones. That must be him. She trotted closer, trying despite herself to make as little sound as she could. "Danny," she kept her voice quiet, as if she might be overheard, "See anyone yet?" Danny turned, meeting Sam's gaze briefly, and shook his head. He floated off the gravestone and onto his feet, still silent. He was glad that his ghost sense had gone off earlier when he'd helped Ember set up. If it had gone off now, Sam would definitely have noticed. Keep your mouth shut. Don't you dare put that grin on your face. Don't do it, don't - he turned away suddenly so that Sam wouldn't see it. Get a grip, Fenton! He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. Fuck, don't ruin it. He turned back to her. "You ready?" Sam frowned. "Ready? Ready for what? Danny, what's going on - ?" Danny met her gaze, unable to fight back the shit-eating grin; he'd been waiting to use this line for most of the afternoon. "We're gonna raise hell." "Danny, what - " It was too late. Danny phased through her, vanished at once, and darted down into the grave where Ember was waiting for him. "Tag," he said, giving her a tiny playful poke, "I'll keep an eye on you. You got this." "Cool," said Ember, psyching herself up. She still couldn't believe she was going to do this. She'd done plenty of shows before - but this one's for her. What if I fuck it up? She steeled herself. No. He said you got this. You can't back out now. Sam turned, now seemingly alone in the middle of the graveyard. "Danny?" Despite herself, her heart began to race. Did he just ditch me? This isn't like him - what's going on? "Danny, where'd you go? What's - ?" Fuck it. Here goes. Ember struck the opening chord, parting the earth over her and sending a beam of ghostly blue light upwards into the sky. She struck another; her spirit guitar kept her in control but from her place in the ground she was orchestrating blind. Riff - stay focused - shit what if I fuck this up - Sam froze, mouth agape, as the ground before her opened up. What's he doing - did he even know about this? One after another, the band ascended from the grave; their horns had become real since their demise, and their fangs had become somewhat sharper, but she could recognize them anywhere. She realized a minute later: Hell. He said he'd raise Hell. Fuck's sake. Ember's mind finally went blank. She'd managed to convince herself that this was a rehearsal, and she'd slid into the Jamming Zone without any effort after that. Her fingers knew what to do, dancing across the strings and the controls of her ghastly instrument, and it wasn't until she began to rise up out of the last grave that her senses came back to her. Come on, you got this you got this you got this - Sam just stood, completely dumbfounded. Her mind slowed almost to a halt, and she let it. This is all - for me? She kept her eyes on the seventh grave; the figure emerged in a dramatic swirl of ghostly fog, hidden under a cloak as black as pitch. It didn't occur to her that Danny couldn't play, or that the cloak was too long for him, or that he'd never heard of Hell to begin with. She only watched. Ember refused to meet Sam's stare, knowing it would ruin her. Come on, you got this. She spotted Danny, watching from another gravestone well out of the way. He gave her a thumbs-up and a stupid grin, and she refocused. Yeah, you got this, baby. She struck the final chord and her hood fell back, revealing her, and she floated down to the ground as the graveyard slowly went quiet. Sam stared, wide-eyed. She realized as her mind began to process again that she'd expected it to be Danny, and she realized a second later that no, of course it wasn't. Finally she just stammered: "Ember?" Nailed it. Ember took a step forward, her eyes now on Sam. She stamped down the knot that wanted to form in her gut - don't you dare, bitch - and forced herself to stay focused. "Bleeding heart, baby," she said quietly, her cloak flowing softly behind her in a ghostly breeze. Sam took a half-step back, mostly out of instinct. Realization crept over her, and her face hardened. "Bleeding heart," she echoed, "That was you, wasn't it?" Ember hesitated. Despite her best efforts, she could feel herself going slowly numb. Hold yourself together, idiot! She nodded. "Look. I want to start over - all the way over, I - " "What are you getting at?" Sam asked warily, "Why would I trust you about any of this? You come after us practically every other week." Ember flinched, as if struck. Her eyes fell, and her face almost immediately flushed a brilliant cerulean. Both hands disappeared back under her cloak so she could clamp them together in an effort to keep them steady. Her mouth had run dry, but she forced herself to speak regardless. "I know it's crazy, I just - I want to know you. I saw you last time - the big fight, and I didn't think it at first, but - " "You froze up," Sam realized. She couldn't believe she was thinking this - that's stupid, you know she's probably hypnotized you - but she couldn't stop herself. "That's what it was, wasn't it?" Ember nodded, barely holding herself together. She was certain she'd melt if Sam came any closer; she'd gone almost completely numb, and she was clinging desperately to the hope that her brain wouldn't fail her as well. So far, it hadn't. "I couldn't stop thinking about you - jesus, that sounds so stupid..." Sam took a deep breath, clearing her thoughts. "Ember, listen - things get complicated really fast. I mean, you're a ghost, for starters. That's - there's kind of an issue there, you know? How could we even - ?" "We can make it work," said Ember desperately, face burning, "I know we could." "Well," Sam conceded reluctantly. Fuck, you're not actually going to consider this, are you? "What about Danny? The fights between you and him - " "Finished," said Ember, meeting Sam's eyes again. "I said I wanted to start over. I meant it." Sam hesitated. You and a ghost? For real? Her doubts slipped away despite her best efforts. "You better be serious." "Dead serious," Ember whispered. Emboldened partially by the numbness receding somewhat and partially by Danny's silent but aggressive support in the background, she reached out and took one of Sam's hands. Realizing her mistake too late to do anything about it, she went quiet as the numbness crawled up into her head and took over her completely. Sam's mind turned slowly. If Ember disappeared from Danny's feuds - what would be the harm, really? She raised Hell for me, for fuck's sake. That was, without a doubt, the most impressive stunt anyone had ever pulled - and for her! Fuck, what am I doing if I'm not even going to give this a chance? It wasn't like anyone would find out about it - aside from Danny and Tucker, at least. Seeing a ghost was one thing; seeing a ghost was different entirely. Jesus, and her parents were going to hate it. She brightened and - for the first time - gave Ember a little smile. "Why not," she said, "We'll figure it out, right?"

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 19 #team ghost

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Nickovich (pt 8 - nsfw)

“How long are you gonna leave him waiting?”

“I dunno. Until I clear you outta smokes most likely.”

Mickey shrugs and grabs another card from the pile. Nicky rolls her eyes and lightly tosses the rest of her pack into his lap.

“There. Congratulations. Now go do whatever it is that you guys do. Go claim your man.”

“He’s not my man.”

Mickey snaps, toying with one folded corner of silver foil at the edge of the box. He’s been playing cards with Nicky for nearly four hours and he knows that Ian has been at the hotel for at least three and a half of those because that was when the first text arrived telling Mickey the address, the room number and the fake name to use.

“Oh no, definitely. I think Trevor might be the one for him. That’s most likely why he booked a room for you two within minutes of you telling him to, dashed across town to get here and has been calling you constantly.”

“Fuck off.”

Mickey mutters but his heart isn’t in it. Truth be told he’s actually just really nervous to go in there and face what he knows is going to be the final show down with Ian Gallagher. Either they will work their shit out and make this thing official or they will go their separate ways and most likely never see each other again.

“He’s gonna be pissed as Hell that you’ve left him waiting so long in there.”

Nicky sing-songs her voice in that annoying way that Mandy used to use on him when they were playing video games and Mickey musters up a pretty good glare.

“Let him be fuckin’ pissed then. Like I give a shit! Asshole deserves to sweat it out.”

“Yeah but what if he sweats too much and decides he needs a cooler climate? Quit being a tropical bitch and go in there before it’s too late!”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I compulsively take care of others when I can’t take care of myself.”

Nicky winks at him and reaches over to take a cigarette from the pile at Mickey’s feet.

“And because it’s like living in a TV show. You love him, you hate him, you want him so badly it’s gonna kill you if you don’t get him … shit. It’s primetime worthy, man.”

Mickey flips her off and stuffs a few of the cigarettes in the box before grabbing his beanie, which is really Nicky’s beanie, and his dark glasses.

“Probably just want me outta here so you can flick your bean all over everything anyway.”

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna use your stick shift to get off and wipe it up with YOUR favourite vest for a change.”

“That’s what you get for leaving your shit all over someone else’s van. Anyway I already said I was sorry.”

Mickey shrugs, his eyes flicking guiltily to the little scrap of black vest that Nicky had fished out from behind the make-shift shelving.

“Still gross. Now please go away and remember, I want a blanket, a shower …”

“Pillows and tiny soaps … yeah, I got it.”

Mickey hates being rushed but Nicky’s quip about Ian leaving has made him prickly.

“And be gentle. You ever watch Beauty and Beast as a kid?”

“Yeah … I guess. That the one with the fuckin’ rose?”

“Yes and the talking teapot and candlestick. I’m the teapot, you’re the beast and he’s …”

“I know.”

Mickey says flatly, his heart already fluttering at the thought of emerald eyes and gorgeously freckled skin.

“Right. And the teapot tells the beast to be gentle because that is what beauty responds to. Be gentle, Abe.”

Nicky squints through the spy hole and then rests her hands on Mickey’s shoulders.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Mickey gives her a very small smile and shoves the van doors open. He crosses the parking lot quickly and enters the hotel. It’s basic, clean and discreet and once he gives the name Ian has supplied he is offered a worn keycard, an easy smile and pointed toward the elevator.

Mickey makes an effort not to fidget too much in case he draws attention to himself but his fingers drum nervously against his thigh and he realises that he is making a sort of low humming noise at the back of his throat.

He exits the elevator on the fourth floor and stares down the rows of identical doors. A little gold edged sign states that room 409 is to his right. Mickey hesitates outside the door. Gentle. How the fuck is he supposed to be gentle? He’s never been the most patient person in the world and after this morning … shit. Well they’ll just have to figure it as they go because if Mickey waits any longer he’s going to bail.

He removes his cap and glasses, swipes the key-card and pushes the door open. There is a furiously snarled question that Mickey doesn’t have time to process before a familiar fist wraps in his shirt and drags him into the room and he is launched unceremoniously across it and sent sprawling onto the bed.

“What the fuck?!”

Mickey shoves himself up out of the rumpled quilt and glares around at Ian who is looming over him, fists clenched at his sides.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours! I was fucking worried about you, asshole!”

Mickey rolls himself off the mattress and lifts a nonchalant eyebrow at Ian.

“None of your damn business where I’ve been.”

The redhead is all blazing eyes and jutting jaw and Mickey’s dick is pressing painfully against his jeans, inappropriately but completely aroused by the larger man’s fury.

“And you lay hands on me like you did just now again and I’m gonna break your fuckin’ arms.”

“Oh fuck you. You’re lucky I tossed your late ass on the bed not into a wall.”

Ian snaps and Mickey’s heart flutters gently, out of rhythm with the thick waves of adrenaline coursing through his body. Ian was never afraid of him, occasionally cautious, but never afraid and he still isn’t and that fact pleases Mickey more than he is willing to admit.

“I thought you got caught or some shit.”

Ian’s words are clipped and short, each one like a whip-crack in the lightly fragrant air of the room.

“Well clearly I didn’t.”

“So where were you? I lied to my boss, took off from work ...”

“Like any of that’s my problem, bitch.”

Mickey scoffs, picking up the TV remote and turning it over in his hand as if considering turning the device on. Predictably, Ian lunges forward and snatches it from his hand, throwing it across the room in absolute fury.

“I swear to God, Mickey ...”

“What? What the fuck are you gonna do?”

Mickey looks Ian up and down, his eyes raking over the planes of his body as his lip curls in smugly and Ian narrowly resists the urge to slap the shit out of him, deciding to try a different tact.

“Look, I am sorry about today. About Trevor. I know you must be pissed …”

Mickey gives a small humourless laugh and lets his head tilt forward until his chin touches his chest.

Gentle.

“And I know I didn’t handle it well. I shouldn’t have frozen like that …”

Gen-fuckin’-tle

“But it was kind of a shock. You’ve been away a while Mickey and I wasn’t sure what to do…”

Mickey is biting the inside of his cheeks hard enough to raise little blisters in the delicate lining, his body going almost unnaturally still and the more he doesn’t react, the more Ian’s mind spirals and his temper, already high, frays even further.

“Jesus. Are you going to speak at all? If you want to vent about him…”

Fuck it. Gentle is overrated.

“It’s not about him! It’s about you! Last I fuckin’ checked you were gonna wait for me, not shack up with some curly haired little prick with creepy boy-band fluff on his chin.”

“We’re not … It’s not like we live together or anything. He’s just … we hang out and stuff …”

Ian fumbles for an explanation and Mickey sucks his teeth contemptuously.

“And fuck too?”

“Yes! Okay, yes, he fucks me!”

Ian hadn’t meant to say that but feels a grim satisfaction in watching Mickey’s jaw drop as he stares at Ian in open horror

“He … You let him put his dick up your ass? Since when are you a damn Bottom?”

“It’s … complicated. Trevor is Trans so it’s not like … I mean … Wait. Why am I telling you this?”

Ian stammers to a stop with that confused and earnest look on his face that used to make Mickey want to kiss him right on his stupid frowning face but right now it just make him roll his eyes.

“Because you got a big fuckin’ mouth and are shitty with other people’s secrets. Jesus. So are you Bi now or something?”

“No! … well I guess I did have sex with a woman but ...”

“Ugh. You know what? Stop. I don’t wanna know.”

“Fine. But you really wanna try and tell me you haven’t fucked anyone else?”

Mickey hesitates. He fucked a few dudes but not that many and it was mostly just to prove a point to some uppity little prick or another who thought Mickey might be easy to turn into a bitch.

“I mostly got along with my hand. Cleaner and tighter than most of those jail-skanks anyway. And it don’t come whinin’ for favours later either.”

Ian snorts and then juts his chin out realising that his question has not been answered. He has no right to be jealous but he is. In that moment, he is jealous of everyone who has even dared to look in Mickey Milkovich’s direction.

“So there has been no one? No one at all?”

“No chicks or chicks with dicks or any of that freaky shit! And no one I started calling my boyfriend!”

Mickey snaps and Ian folds his arms defensively

“Well it’s different for you. You hate labelling things you never …”

“What? What do I never do?”

Mickey can feel his temper slipping as the little voice inside his head that always told him that somehow he was the reason everything went to shit, begins to awaken.

“You never want to box yourself into anything.”

Ian’s tone is soft, almost kind and it takes the fight out of Mickey a little as he shrugs and rubs the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Not with other dickheads, no, I don’t! But I don’t mind that shit with you. I’d have fuckin’ married you if you wanted it.”

Ian’s head snaps up and he looks at Mickey in an entirely new way and it irritates the Hell out of Mickey instantly.

“Don’t look at me like that! I told you already – in sickness and in health, richer and poorer, all of that. I told you and you were the one who didn’t fuckin’ want it.”

“I didn’t know you were serious.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

Mickey doesn’t yell but only because there isn’t enough air left in his lungs to do it. Black spots appear in his vision around the edge of Ian’s head and Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down at the floor and fighting the urge to sit down on the bed and bury his face in his hands entirely.

Ian realises that he’s said completely the wrong damn thing and panic bubbles in his chest, pushing past all the rest of his emotions leaving only the thin, desperate knowledge that he doesn’t want Mickey to shut him out. No matter how much he deserves it, he doesn’t want to be shut out.

“I thought you were just tryin’ to stop me breakin’ up with you!”

Ian’s natural Southside drawl comes out more when he’s agitated and Mickey notices that his hands are shaking, large knuckles vibrating against each other.

“I fuckin’ was, asshole! But that don’t mean I didn’t want it anyway! Jesus, Ian! You’re a good fuckin’ lay but you think I would have put up with half your crazy shit if I wasn’t in it for the long haul? I could have found another guy with a monster dick just like that!”

Mickey snaps his fingers at Ian and runs a hand roughly over his face in frustration.

“Maybe not a red head but something, I could have found something …”

“I know you could and I appreciate everything you did for me back then. I really do, Mick.”

Ian doesn’t know if it’s allowed or not but he reaches out and cups Mickey’s jaw lightly in his palm. Mickey jerks backwards and Ian steps with him, moving until they come up against the bed and Mickey turns his head, glancing down at the mattress.

“You still want me, Gallagher?”

It is a softly asked question but it hits Ian like a blow and he blinks a couple of times before nodding

“I’ve always wanted you.”

He hadn’t intended to say that but the words feel right and he finally feels as though he might have said the correct thing at the correct time. Mickey’s lips pull upwards in a reluctant little smile and he presses his hand flat against the tight fabric of Ian’s shirt, stroking his thumb over the hollow of Ian’s ribcage, feeling the heavy pulse racing beneath it.

The thought of tasting a little blood, his or Ian’s, is seriously fucking appealing and only a couple of minutes ago, Mickey was more than prepared for a fight. What he isn’t prepared for is the feel of Ian’s lips against his, Ian’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth with a possessive urgency that Mickey hasn’t felt from Ian since before the bipolar tipped everything on its head. Since Ian wanted him so badly he was willing to do anything to get him.

The atmosphere has shifted and taken any ambiguity about their intentions for this hotel room with it. They both know they are going to fuck, the only question is how to find their way to it through all the other shit. But Mickey knows the answer. It’s not gentle but it will work and that is what they need.

“What about your boyfriend?”

Mickey smirks, closing his eyes as Ian’s lips trail down his neck, biting softly at the pale flesh.

“Shut up and get undressed.”

Ian pulls away just long enough to shrug out of his jacket and shove Mickey backwards onto the bed. He wants to taste Mickey’s skin and feel the curve of that sweet ass pinched between his teeth. He wants to hear the sobbing breaths wrench from between those perfect lips as he sheaths himself to the hilt again and again until they are both lost.

The continued manhandling coupled with burning kisses is almost the undoing of Mickey, but he manages another smirk and takes his time unzipping his hoodie and slipping it off his shoulders. Mickey wants the sex, he wants it so badly it is painful, but to admit that, to give it without a struggle, without being overpowered, just feels too weak. He wants Ian to take charge of him and knows he will if Mickey can prod him there firmly enough.

“In a rush, Gallagher? You gotta get back to him, huh?”

Ian tugs his shirt over his head and gives Mickey a meaningful look that makes Mickey’s stomach knot in anticipation but he presses on, determined to push Ian beyond endurance.

“Is he gonna be pissed about this or is the freak house some sort of hippie commune for queers?”

Ian knows that this taunting won’t stop until Mickey gets what he wants and in a weird way, he is really glad about it because it is fuelling something within Ian as well. Something that Ian hasn’t had the opportunity to be in a long time. Dominant. Not just a little bit rough but actually in control and obeyed without question by someone who not only wants it, but fucking needs it.

“You want to call him? You can use my phone.”

Ian looks down at Mickey and his heart squeezes. Blue eyes are looking up at him and to anyone else they might just look pugnacious, maybe a little aggressive and definitely derisive but Ian sees beyond that, he is still, through some damn miracle of adoration, allowed to see beyond that.

Ian bends down and wraps his fist in Mickey’s shirt, dragging him upwards and pressing his knuckles beneath Mickey’s chin, putting them eye-to-eye, his face close enough to feel Mickey’s breath on his lips and kisses him softly, once.

“I know what you need and I’m going to give it to you, but one more snarky little comment like that and we’re done here. Do you understand?”

Mickey’s eyes narrow as he licks away the feel of Ian’s kiss on his lower lip.

“Fuc...”

Ian silences him with another kiss, this one hard enough to bruise and Mickey blinks up at him, his smirk a little less certain as he begins to yield himself.

“You wanna play rough like that huh?”

“I do. And I bought you some things ...”

Grabbing his bag, Ian rummages inside and tosses lube and condoms onto the bed followed by a pack of smokes, a joint and a clutch of Ben Wah beads and Mickey gives a startled laugh.

“Holy fuck, Firecrotch! You planned a whole fuckin’ perverts picnic!”

“I figured you wouldn’t have had … you know … the stuff you like for a while.”

Ian sounds almost shy at the admission of his own thoughtfulness and Mickey almost gives himself up right that second because Ian is right, he has not had the stuff he likes for a while. He hasn’t had it since the day Ian was dragged away by the MP’s. All the same he isn’t some whiny bitch looking for a pat on the head and he forces himself to stay cool.

He cocks his eyebrow and lets his gaze drift lazily away and then back to Ian through half-lidded eyes, his tongue rolling against his lips as if it is too large for his mouth in that arrogant gesture that Ian has loved since the first time he saw it.

“You’re bein’ a little fuckin’ presumptuous! Maybe I just want a decent night’s sleep. How about you shove those beads up your own ass, huh?”

Despite himself, Ian laughs and then hastily bites his tongue to silence it. He’d forgotten how hard it is to rattle Mickey. If he’d acted like this with any of his other lovers … well … he just wouldn’t. None of them would understand this side of him, the side that was born on the streets he grew up on and nurtured in the language of his home.

“How about you shut your mouth unless you’re gonna do something useful with it.”

He quips back and Mickey smiles at him, a genuine smile that makes Ian want to cradle him to his chest almost as badly as he wants to pound him into the bed and leave him gasping.

“Now I asked you a fucking question, Milkovich: Do you understand?”

Mickey doesn’t answer, just holds Ian’s gaze steadily. It is everything either of them need.

“Get undressed, Mick.”

He says more softly and slowly but surely, Mickey complies.

Ian pauses in taking off his belt to glance up questioningly and Mickey meets his eyes with a small smile.

“You want me to keep hold of this too?”

Ian asks softly, holding the worn old leather out for Mickey’s inspection. Mickey considers it, pinches his lip between thumb and forefinger, and then shakes his head. He can take a lot, is hoping to take a lot, but some things need to be built up to and he isn’t ready for that yet.

“Not tonight.”

Mickey presses his lips together as soon as the words leave them and busies himself with unlacing his boots, keeping his eyes on the task at hand. Despite the almost desperate longing, Mickey refuses to look up to see what effect if any those two words have had on Ian.

Ian smiles softly at the back of Mickey’s head and closes his eyes. He knows he isn’t completely forgiven for Trevor, but the possibility of forgiveness is there and that is something. The rest they will figure out. Together.

#shameless #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #nicky nichols #gallavich #series 7 imagine #shameless fanfiction #shameless imagine #Ian loves Mickey #Mickey x Ian

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