#he probably tried to plant a bomb in the restaurant for content

[pizzpizzapizzo]

id watch a cartoon about them

[tastetheravenn]

The One Where It’s My Truth

Jackson Wang X RM, Jin X RM (Namjackjin)

Description: Jackson Wang gives Namjoon flirting advice and pretends he’s okay with Namjoon loving Jin. 

Content Warnings: So much Namjin angst (sorry not sorry), mild cursing, steamy and sensual but no smut 

A/N: So this ends this Namjackjin trilogy, but never fear casual readers, there are more set after this/ in this universe so their story continues! Let me know what you think! (Also, happy Festa!)

PART I

He liked getting what he wanted.

Was this why he was back here, pacing in front of Namjoon’s door? A tiger in a cage. He knocked again.

“Hello?” Namjoon said as he opened the door, sticking his painstakingly messy head into the opening. Ah yes, Jackson remembered, that was the reason he was here. Kim Namjoon. Namjoon-ah. It would be easiest and best for everyone involved if he just said what he came to say and left. But Jackson wasn’t fond of doing things the easiest way, as his bandmates never hesitated to remind him. So, rather than say his piece, he crossed his arms and tilted his chin, mocking tough. “Uh, oh, hey,” Namjoon began, his face unable to return to normal from his initial shock.

Jackson laughed and broke his pose. He playfully hit RM on the side of the head. “’Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Namjoon mutely stood aside, thinking god knew what. Jackson bounced into Namjoon’s apartment as if he hadn’t left. Maybe he hadn’t. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d woken up and seen the way Namjoon looked at Jin. “So, I have an excellent proposal,” he started, toeing off his shoes. Jackson wasn’t sure what he was starting to say, but he had found out some time ago that sometimes it was better just to let his mouth do all the work.

Namjoon continued to stare, and Jackson plowed ahead before he remembered he was only human. “Okay, first, I know you’re in love with Jin.”

“I – I…”

“Speechless is fine. I have that effect on people,” Jackson said and winked. He knew that Namjoon hated it when he was cocky. And fake. But maybe it would be better if he acted like this. “I’ll help you. Be your confidant. Tips,” he said.

RM shook his head, confused at first and then angry. He crossed his arms, but he wasn’t being fake playful. “And what gave you the impression that I was in love with Jin?” Because you aren’t in love with me, Jackson thought. “You don’t even know him. Come on, you don’t know me!” Namjoon turned around and began to walk towards his kitchen.

Jackson caught up to Namjoon quickly, a hand stretching out and catching the other man’s hip, spinning him around to meet him in the middle of the floor. Jackson wondered if Namjoon felt his hand on him like his hand was on him nearly two weeks ago now, a hand hot and heavy and he wondered if the memories would hold him down and sink him to the bottom of the sea. “I want to know you. I want to help you,” he said. “I’m your friend!” he exclaimed, too loud for the moment, but he had to diffuse the bomb. He let go the other man and stepped back.

“Why am I saying yes?” Namjoon said after a moment. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and gave a half-grin, one that was more half-sad than half-happy.

+++

Jackson already knew what neither of them voiced. That Jin and Namjoon already had a secret language of their own. There was nothing he could do to help. There was so much he didn’t know. But he was an infinite optimist, and even though RM played at being a realist or artfully cynical, Jackson liked to think that he too was willing to have faith in simple things.

Jackson wished, not for the first time, that he could tell what was going on in the other man’s mind. “What are you thinking?”

“Why do you always ask that?”

“Why don’t you ever answer?” Jackson made a goofy face at the other man. “Just admit it, you’re thinking of me without my clothes. It’s cool man. I mean it’s not like there’s any surprises for you.”

“Oh! Okay, are we playing it like that?” Namjoon said, shocked but not overly. “This is a public restaurant. I have an image.”

Jackson snorted. “Yeah right. Oh, oh, try this. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“No, no, are you ready?”

“You’re a shitty teacher,” RM snorted.

Watch

Jackson leaned forward and laughed low.

And

“You’re a mess, Namjoon.” He reached out a hand and brushed a loose hair from the other man’s forehead before sitting back.

Learn.

Namjoon nodded intently, but Jackson noticed with satisfaction the blush that was spreading across his face. “Like this,” he said, and mimicked the motion, his fingertips brushing Jackson’s forehead. Jackson resisted the urge to plant a kiss on Namjoon’s palm, and for once, his mouth listened.

“Wow, Kim, you’re starting to be a little less like this –” he made a frantic fluttering motion with his arms. “And a little more like this,” he said nodding his head with his fingers on his chin in an interesting imitation of Taehyung.

“Hey! Are you saying Taeh is sexy?”

“Easily the sexiest member of BTS.”

Fine, Namjoon’s eyes said. “When are you going to introduce me to JB?”

+++

They were on set for a music video when Namjoon walked in through the side door, searching over the tops of passing heads. “Jackson, your boy is here,” Bambam noted, wiggling his eyebrows.

“He’s not my boy,” Jackson said automatically, reserved and curious. He jogged over to where the other man was standing. They watched as their friend and brother-in-arms bent his head together with RM, squeezing the other man’s arm and grinning.

“Look at them!” Yugygeom giggled, and JB hit him on the arm absently. Jackson walked back towards them, pretty obviously imagining that RM was still standing at the doorway watching him walk away. But the other man had already left.

Mark moved forward and intercepted Jackson, flanked by Jinyoung. They each grabbed an arm and dragged an only vaguely protesting Jackson into a back hallway. “Tell me how the maknae can see what you can’t,” Jinyoung started without preamble. He could be quite blunt.

Mark shot his friend side-eye before approaching the matter with a more sympathetic tone. “Jackson, this is too much for you.”

“I’m not doing anything!” He stopped and leaned against the wall, hearing the whining tone in his own voice. “He’s my friend.” His friends just stared at him, unamused. “He’s got his first date… well, I mean he’s hanging out with Jin tonight. He’s nervous.” Jackson shrugged.

“You’re in love with him,” Jinyoung stated abruptly, and Mark sighed.

Jackson closed his eyes for the briefest moment – most people wouldn’t have even noticed (Mark and Jinyoung weren’t most people) – before opening them. He rolled his eyes. “Love? This isn’t a movie. I like him, sure. Sure. But if you think –”

“We don’t think that you set this whole thing up as some scheme –” Mark began.

“What if I did? What if I meant it to be like this from the beginning?” Jackson asked, and he was smiling but his chest hurt, and he couldn’t understand why.

“I highly doubt that,” Mark answered.

“Sometimes I say things without actually thinking…”

“Noooooooo,” Jinyoung drawled, but he was smiling.

“Okay…” Mark started, but Jackson laughed and pulled them in for a sideways hug, artfully dodging whatever advice his friends had been hoping to impart.

 PART II

Jin wrapped Namjoon in a hug as soon as the door opened. He had thought the other man would never call him, which is ridiculous, of course (but how could he not think it)? But really, why wouldn’t Namjoon want to be his best friend? They were best friends, he repeated to himself, and tried not to get lost in the familiar smell of soft cologne and the food he’d cooked – he’d cooked? – for dinner. Whatever was new about his friend, nothing could change that they were Namjoon’s arms around him.

“Come on,” Namjoon said and moved aside so that he could come through the door.

 After that, Jin couldn’t help but admit it was strange at first. They didn’t talk much, or look at each other, but then one of them told an old story, or mentioned something one of the other Bangtan boys had said, and then they forgot the passing of time. They forgot (or pretended to) the fact that they hadn’t talked in such a long time. And that some of that time wasn’t the consequence of life getting in the way of the way they loved to look into one another’s eyes and make the other one laugh, but their own stubbornness.

No, Jin thought, watching RM out of the corner of his eyes. Not stubbornness. What was it? Jin turned to face his friend, and froze as he noticed RM leaning toward him. He thought his stomach was probably a puddle at his feet, and he was acutely aware that he’d never tried to love anyone before. He remembered sleepless nights, shallowly wondering why it was so unfair. Why he wasn’t allowed to love anyone?

RM reached over and pushed a stray hair off of Jin’s forehead. RM’s fingers had barely left his forehead when Jin bust up laughing. It should have been sexy or romantic, in front of the fireplace. Maybe to anyone else it could have been. But Jin panicked, and he couldn’t look past how ridiculous the move was coming from RM, his sometimes cocky but mostly flustered and emo Namjoon.

Namjoon for his part evidently didn’t agree with Jin’s humorous appraisal of the situation. He turned away, face set before standing up and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Hey, are you okay?” Jin asked, putting his foot in it, probably.

“Okay? Am I okay? No, for fuck’s sake, I’m not okay!”

Jin wasn’t taken aback. He knew, of course. He knew what they both knew and had felt so deeply it hurt him to breathe sometimes. Like when he sat miles and miles away from him and sat with his fingers over his keyboard or his pen hovering above the paper and wondered what to write, how to say the things they never had to say. Namjoon was his words. Namjoon always knew how to write what he was feeling better than he could ever say out loud.

He wasn’t surprised, he realized. He was angry. Because Jin had just as much a right as anyone to be pissed about this. It was his anger too. This thing between them was never one way.

But Jin pushed it back, because he couldn’t seem to stop wanting to fix it, make it better. Kiss it, put a Band-aid on it. Make it like it never happened because wasn’t it easier this way? “Hey, I understand. But please, sit down,” he said.

“Sit down? Sit down and what, exactly? We’ll talk about old times? You’ll tell me about what it was like when you were gone? What could you possibly understand about how I’m feeling?”

“Namjoon.”

“You never wrote me! And now, now I think I imagined goddamn everything between us, didn’t I?” Namjoon shouted.

This time Jin did reel back like the other man had hit him. He looked up at Namjoon, and the only thing betraying his anger was his eyes that blazed in the light from the fire. “Oh, you forgot already. I saw you. You slept with someone else,” he said intensely, not shouting and raging because he didn’t have to.

“You can’t shame me! I waited. I waited and waited, and then I thought it was all a dream,” Namjoon said, and he sat back down next to Jin. “I thought I was crazy, and you never wrote.” And it was Jin who felt guilty, felt guilt so toxic it curdled his stomach. “Please, do not shame me. Because- because I am not ashamed, Jin.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Jin said. “In the letters?”

“Don’t cry, I cry when you cry.”

“I didn’t know what to say. We never said it, Namjoon. We never said I love you.”

“I know,” he said, and he looked away into the fire. Jin watched his profile in the soft light and saw him swallow once, twice. “He was there for me,” he said to the floor, and his voice broke just the tiniest bit. “Wouldn’t even leave when I tried to kick him out,” he added with a small smile. Jin reached out towards him and pulled him close, Namjoon nestling into his neck, their legs tangled. Namjoon’s arms circled round his waist and they were Namjoon’s arms, same as before, but he knew they couldn’t pretend anymore. It wouldn’t do.

They sat that way for some time before Jin asked, “Do you love him?”

Namjoon picked his head up a bit, and his voice was drowsy when he responded, “What?”

“Who.”

“Who?” Namjoon echoed.

“Jackson.”

Namjoon sat up and rubbed a crick in his neck, scooting forward to the edge of the couch. Jin rubbed a hand up the back of his spine, leaned forward and feeling bold, kissed the back of Namjoon’s neck. As if they weren’t discussing another man. As if there wasn’t a problem in the world with discussing another man as they sat by the firelight and held one another.

“Honestly?” Namjoon asked, and turned his head to read Jin’s face. Jin nodded. He wanted to know, and he wasn’t sure if the news would wound him, or set him free. “Honestly, I don’t know. He confuses the hell out of me.”

“Like me?”

Namjoon turned fully around and only hesitated a second before placing his hands on either side of Jin’s face. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in the world. Even like this,” he added. Like this meaning confused and content and angry and regretful of time lost – but not, Jin remembered, shameful. Jin also had no time for shame and so he leaned forward and captured Namjoon’s mouth with his own.

But it was a kiss of the sort that neither expected. It was sincere and it was bittersweet, but it was finite. They hugged and Namjoon curled up half on the other man’s lap and was soon asleep. Jin, on the other hand, did not sleep for a long time. He stared into the fire, and he looked at Namjoon’s face, and he wondered. He wondered about his own future. He’d never had his own life before, after all.

It would be nice to live for himself.

 Part III

When Namjoon answered his door, he didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling. He didn’t know if he was happy about what they’d wordlessly decided last night. He rubbed the side of his face where the crease marks from sleeping on the couch wouldn’t go away. The light of day was a judge and jury. He’d asked Jin whether he had imagined everything between them before Jin had gone away, but at the same time, didn’t everything him and Jackson hang on a rainstorm in the pitch black? Maybe love belonged to the night. Had he really given up so much for-

“Jackson?” he said, surprised, staring at the man standing on his doorstep. “You look like shit.”

Jackson’s worried face evaporated and he grinned. “Fuck you!”

“Well, good morning to you, too.” Namjoon said, and he bit his lip. “Is everything okay?” he asked, though it wasn’t that unusual for the other man to pick him up first thing in the morning for who knows what. It was unusual for him to be anything but immaculately dressed. His outfit was slept in, hair shoved beneath a hat, and his arms were crossed like the nice summer breeze stung.

His face grew serious again. “I guess it’s early… but… um, wow, you ruined my serious speech.”

“You, serious?”

“Namjoon, I can’t be your friend.”

“What? Is it because I haven’t showered today?”

Jackson’s exterior melted, and for once, Namjoon didn’t have to wonder what he was like on the inside. He’d thought that Jackson didn’t wear a mask like other people. He’d assumed a lot about him. “See, I’m a joke to you, and that’s okay. I like making you laugh, but I couldn’t sleep last night… And, well, I pretended I was okay with everything, but I guess I had to know deep… you can’t look at me like…” Jackson gave a half-smile, seeming to relax as he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I’ll just see you around, you know?” he said before turning and walking away from a stunned Namjoon.  

Namjoon jogged down the sidewalk, half-remembering Yoongi’s advice from weeks before. He had been right, of course. Life couldn’t make sense. Love would never make any sense. “Hey!” he yelled, and it was summer and it was sunny and he scolded his earlier thought that boys like Jackson only belonged to the night. “How do I look at him? How does…”

Jackson stopped, and Namjoon walked around him on the sidewalk. Jackson looked up at him, chin defiant, mouth resigned, and eyes steady. But it wasn’t the way Jin looked at him, or even the way he looked at Jin. It was the way Jackson looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon closed the distance between them. Jackson tilted his head up and met his lips halfway. RM slide his hands up his sweatshirt so that he could feel the other man’s skin beneath his fingertips. “I don’t understand,” Jackson said eventually.  

“Did you really think I needed lessons in flirting?”

“Yes, obviously. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“And you said I make a joke out of you!” Namjoon said, but he was laughing. “Okay, the point is, I’ve loved Jin for a long time, and I still love him.”

“Oh,” Jackson sighed, and nodded, starting to step back.

“No, no,” he whispered, moving his thumbs in circles on Jackson’s bare skin. “Because, for a long time I loved him, but I didn’t really like myself anymore. And then, and then you broke into my house and my phone and my head, and I can see.”  

“See what?”

“You.” Jackson grinned. “What, speechless for once?” Namjoon teased.

“Shut up,” he said, and sniffled and wiped a sleeve across his face, though at the same time he couldn’t stop smiling. Namjoon laughed and pulled him into a hug. The summer wind continued to gently blow the trees around them.  

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire II | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

as requested, here’s part two to Grazing the Fire! part one can be found >here<! hope you guys enjoy it!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language

For a time, you and Nathan did not interact again. He stopped seeing you everywhere he went, and in turn you stopped fearing him cornering you in a restaurant again. Sometimes you’d see the back of his head in the hallway, and other times you’d manage a quick glimpse at his face. It was always so pensive, so strained. You’ll get wrinkles, you joked silently. You didn’t speak to him again but for the first time you didn’t hate him. Sure, you hated the fact that you lied to an actual security guard in order to cover his ass, but you realized you didn’t hate him.

At first you were relieved to not have to converse with him anymore. He was a ticking time bomb and everyone knew it, and you’d experienced firsthand how unpredictable he could be. You even managed to wrangle up your own friend group, a few girls and boys who you finally started to come out of your shell with. Getting accustomed to Blackwell wasn’t easy, and Nathan had made it so much harder, but as the weeks grew on you began to fit in.

It seemed like you were having everything you wanted, that being a friend group, a-little-better-than-average grades, and best of all you were on the good side of Nathan Prescott (even if you didn’t speak anymore). Not many students could say that and even if you kept it mostly to yourself, you still couldn’t help but feel just a little superior.

Yes, it really seemed like you were where you were supposed to be. Finally, after bouncing from school to school to school, you were comfortable.

And then you felt it. The longing, empty feeling in your chest.

When it first arrived you thought maybe you were homesick, missing your parents and hometown, but after visiting them during a long weekend you realized that wasn’t the case. You were happy to see them again, and mostly content when you returned back to Blackwell, but at night you found yourself missing something. For the longest time you had no idea what it was.

Then you locked eyes with him, and all at once, you knew.

It had only been a quick glance and to him it probably meant nothing but for some reason it left you stunned, unable to move from your spot as he rested atop the fountain. He was rummaging through that binder he always carried, that same binder he always slammed shut when people walked by. Initially he hadn’t seen you, too wrapped up in whatever it was he was looking at, but when he looked up briefly he froze when you were in his line of sight. You were late to class and it was obvious he was skipping, leaving you two virtually alone in front of the school building.

Neither of you moved for a moment, staring at each other knowingly. You hated yourself for feeling nauseas as he watched you, but it wasn’t a bad nausea. You didn’t feel sick at the thought of Nathan Prescott staring at you. You didn’t cringe or turn your back on him. Instead you wanted to talk to him, sit down, ask him what he was working on as if he would actually tell you.

The spell that had been casted broke when the front doors swung open from behind the fountain, your friend poking her head out from the crack. “___!” She shouted, and Nathan jolted before looking at her over his shoulder. “Teacher’s pissed, you’re late, again!”

“You’re late too then, aren’t you?” You called back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking past the boy staring at you.

“I was on the way to the bathrooms and I saw you, hurry your ass up!” Without another word she retreated back inside and let the doors slam shut. You sighed to yourself, laughing shortly at her antics, but you went silent when you saw Nathan in the corner of your eye. Though you wanted to stop, to talk to him, you didn’t. Instead you just kept going, and he looked down at his binder as you passed by.

That following day you knew you were entirely screwed. You barely saw him again after that, and it was like everything had reverted back to normal. But this time something was different- you still missed him. He was scary and brash, loud and made you feel so uneasy but you wanted to be around him. You wanted to know about him- the things that made him tick. But most of all, you found, you wanted to help him. That was a funny thought though, given you could barely even take care of yourself sometimes.

Tonight was one of those nights, apparently. What was supposed to be a fun weekend out with your buddies turned sour on your end, and by midnight you had no ‘party’ left in you. Maybe it was all the homework you’d gotten that was due Monday, but it couldn’t be that. You had two more days to get it done. Maybe it was the fact that you never were much of a drinker, but, you also hadn’t drank hardly anything either. Perhaps tonight was just a night that was destined to be spent alone, even if it was a friday. At first you considered maybe sitting down for an hour or two to ease your rolling stomach, but then you felt the coldness of the weather and shivered. Arcadia Bay didn’t exactly have freezing winters but it was chilly enough to have you rubbing at your hands and arms every so often.

It was 1 am when you left, having to walk your way ]back to your dorms since the get together had been at the friends parents house. You were never a fan of walking after dark but at that moment, alone, listening to music, you’d rather have been there than anywhere else. Even if the streets were a little too dark, the alleyways a little too menacing, and the fact that you could hear a police siren a bit away even through the music of your earbuds, you were content.

As you clicked through songs trying to find the right one, the sirens stopped. You sighed in relief, even though you weren’t anxious anyways, because that meant that the police must have caught whatever perpetrator they were searching for.

You chose a random song and hummed along quietly. In hindsight you probably shouldn’t have had your music as loud as it was, your fingers occasionally turning the volume up even more out of habit. Before you knew it, you couldn’t hear a thing over the tunes that were playing. It was this that rendered you unaware of the feet behind you, the sound of someone running coming up fast. When you felt something slam into you from behind, effectively knocking you to the ground, the breath was forced from your lungs at the force. You couldn’t even gasp in shock, not entirely realizing what had happened even after your face made contact with the concrete. While your headphones fell off and clattered nearby, you cringed at the pain in your right side, looking over your shoulder and feeling your blood turn to ice at a figure only a few feet away. It was taller than you but not much larger, and was completely shrouded in darkness thanks to the convenient lack of street lamps.

“Agh, fuck,” The figure groaned, managing to bring itself to its feet. You narrowed your eyes, you knew that voice.

“Nathan?” You whispered, voice uncertain but harsh given the amount of pain you were in. There was silence and then suddenly you were being bathed in light, the source from the phone the figure had picked up.

“You?” He breathed viciously, and you huffed.

“Yeah, me,” you brought yourself to your feet and brushed the dirt from your pants. “Thanks a lot for the hello, fucker.”

“There no time to bullshit around,” Nathan said quickly, and before you could react he launched forward and grabbed your arm, literally trying to drag you with him as he left.

“Wait, my phone!” You hollered, ripping away from him and scrambling to gather your phone and headphones before he managed to grab the fabric of your hoodie and then pull you to your feet again.

“I said there’s no fucking time!”

Thankfully you did have enough time, fingers clutching your items to yourself as tightly as you could. Suddenly you were thankful that you left most of your stuff back at your friend's house because you didn’t feel like carrying it.

“Where are we going?” You tried your best to keep up with him but he just kept pulling you. When he didn’t answer you tried to plant your feet on the ground, bringing you and him to a halting stop. He shot you a look as though you’d just stabbed him. “Where are we going?” You repeated, panting.

Nathan, frantic, turned around in a quick circle as though he were looking for something. He groaned and rubbed his face, briefly tugging at his hair.  It was then you saw his attire- black jeans, his varsity jacket, and a white t shirt underneath. However it was all nearly caked in mud and dirt, and something a little more crimson than everything else. You gasped.

“What did you do?” You took a step away from him, horrified.

He looked at you and then his clothes before putting his hands up. “Don’t fucking freak out, okay? It’s not mine.”

Your eyes bulged at him. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?!”

“Stop fucking yelling!” He, ironically, shouted, then he took in a deep irritated breath. “Just chill the hell out, okay? Stop yelling.”

“Okay, okay,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“No,” He said quickly, that sudden frantic expression taking form again as he looked past you. “Not right now. We gotta go.”

When he made a reach for your arm again you pulled back. “We?”

“Yes, fucking-” He grabbed you and started to run again. “We!”

Instead of arguing you tried to save your breath, anxiety starting to bubble within you like a cloud of dust. It made you feel weak and lightheaded- or maybe that was just the fact that you hated running. Either way you were starting to get scared, and what made it so much worse was seeing a silent police car suddenly turn down the street Nathan was hauling you on. He came to a dead stop, almost making you clash into the back of him, before pivoting and dragging you in another direction.

This time it was off the road and up a small hill, then into some poor strangers back yard. When Nathan rooted his knees to the dirt, his form covered by the thick hedges that lined the person's yard, he yanked you down with him. The fear of being caught in a stranger's yard with a troubled and most likely on the run teen was suddenly very real, and you swallowed thickly trying to wrap your head around how you’d gotten yourself into this mess. All you had wanted was a nice night to yourself.

Beside you Nathan was dead silent, reaching out to poke his hands through the leaves to clear some out. Then he peered through the brush, squinting through the darkness.

“What the fuck is going on?” You quietly whispered, pissed to hell and back. When he didn’t answer your childish nature got the better of you, and you reached out and pinched his leg. He flinched, swatted at your hand, and for a moment it sounded like he actually growled at you.

“Would you just fuck off for a minute?” He hissed, not looking at you. You shook your head in annoyance, in disbelief, and tried to look through the leaves as well. Luckily you didn't have to clear much to get a perfect view of the police car slowly cruising by, a white light scanning the area back and forth in search of who you guessed was Nathan. As it passed by you held your breath, eyes wide as it drew close enough for you to hear the engine and tires crushing the rocks.  When it continued it’s way down the road and eventually turned, you felt like a weight had been pulled clean off your shoulders. You fell back onto your ass not-so gracefully, running a hand through your hair.

“What did you do?” your voice was much softer now, tired from all the suspense and running. He looked down at you.

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Yeah, because that,” you gestured to his clothes. “Is so convincing.”

“Just mind your own business.” Nathan grumbled, and for a moment you swore you sw red.

“Mind my fucking business?” You were seeting at this point. “You dragged me into this! I just hid from a cop car! This is my fucking business! Why are you covered in shit and blood?”

“Keep asking questions and I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

You gaped at him. He was fucking joking, right?

The hostile look on his face, even through the darkness, told you otherwise. You brought yourself to your feet and wiped at your face, feeling dirty from just looking at him.

“This was fun Prescott,” you started, putting your headphones around your neck. “But I’m fucking leaving.”

“You can’t yet.” He suddenly said. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he huffed. “They’re still out there.”

“Yeah, and they’re looking for you, not me.”

“You owe me.” He stated blankly.

“For Madison?” you asked incredulously. “That was for the jocks and you know it.”

“Not just your stupid note-book fiasco,” He said, standing up, and you took a step back. Oh god, here came the yelling. “Do you even know how much shit I’ve done for you? How many assholes I kept off your back after that?” You blinked at him, unsure of what he meant. At your obliviousness he forced a sharp laugh. “Of course you don’t. See, when I rescued your sorry ass from those dickheads, I told you that it would make you a target, yeah?” You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why do you think that none of the shit ever came? I’ve been working my ass off keeping people off your back. You’re fucking welcome.”

“I-I don’t-” You looked everywhere but at him, searching for words to say. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Don’t ask me shit I don’t know the answer to.” He looked left and right over the bushes, making sure the coast was clear before passing you by. “This is how you thank me. You keep your mouth shut about what you saw tonight.”

Though you hated the feeling of being chewed out by none of than Nathan Prescott, the problem child of the year, you still nodded and remained silent. When he took little care in shoving past you, you turned to follow him out of the stranger’s yard and back onto the street.

“Why are you even out so late?” He asked as though he had any right to talk.

You shrugged. “I was just walking back to my dorms.”

“At 1 am?” He scoffed, shoving his hand into his pockets and glancing over his shoulder for any sign of the cop. “You don’t seem like a night kind of person.”

“I was feeling sick so I went home.” You knew you didn’t owe him any sort of explanation but at that moment you were tired and honestly, all you wanted was to go to your room. Your casual walk back to the dormitories, so calming and enjoyable, was ruined. You were also painfully reminded why you kept your distance was Nathan. It seemed maybe after not talking to him for so long you forget the edges he carried with him at all times, forgot how troubled followed him wherever he went.

“Sick?” He mumbled, looking back at you. “You look just fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your phone, turning it on to check the time. 1:30. “I just want to get back, okay?”

He rose his eyebrows and turned his back on you. “Yeah, fine, what the fuck ever. Lucky for you I’m on my way back to my dorm too so feel fucking free to thank me for the walk home.”

“I didn’t ask you to walk me back, you know.” You huffed, looking down at the ground. “Feel ‘fucking free’ to hurry your ass up and leave me alone.”

Nathan didn’t answer, or maybe he didn’t hear. Either way you weren’t repeating yourself, occasionally checking your phone as if it would make your now silent walk home any less awkward as it already was. Among the silence there was also anxiety- what if the car returned? Where would you hide if you had enough time? On top of that, what if you got caught? Your parents would have your throat for getting into legal trouble, even if you hadn’t exactly done anything illegal in the first place.

While you two trekked block after block, you made sure to keep mental notes of all the areas you could duck into should a police car arrive. These spots mostly consisted of thick trees, bushes, and occasionally decks if they jutted out far enough. As you picked out spot after spot, you only realized you were close to the dorms when Nathan suddenly hissed ‘shit’ and then swiftly ducked behind the Blackwell Academy's welcome sign by the road.

“What is it?” You asked quickly, peeking over the top. From what you could tell the parking lots looked normal on either side, but he seemed distraught.

“Fuck,” He repeated a few times. “Jackasses- they’re staking out the boy’s dormitories.”

You snapped to look down at him, eyes wide. “What, did you kill someone?”

“No, I didn’t kill someone!” He said defensively. You peeked over the edge again, swallowing. “Look, do me one more favor.” He added quietly.

“Like what?” You didn’t look down at him, still peering over the edge for anyone that could be walking around.

“Give me your clothes.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

He roughly gripped at his hair, groaning. “Not right now! In your dorm, give me clothes!”

“I’m not letting you in my dorm!”

“I said do me this one last fucking favor!”

“No!”

It wasn’t wise to argue with Nathan and you knew it, but your temper sometimes really did get the best out of you. You were utterly shocked that he’d demand to have your clothes, and on top of that trespass into your dorm even after nearly getting you arrested.

“If I go in my own they’ll arrest me,” he argued. “So let me into yours. It won’t fucking take all night, I just- I just need a minute.”

You shifted your weight and then stared at your feet, frowning, giving into him even though your conscious screamed at you to do otherwise. If you helped him you’d be potentially aiding a criminal, but if you didn’t he would hate you and then that big target would return. As much as you hated it, you needed the shelter.

“Fine.” You grumbled. “But you better not get me fucking caught or so help me.”

“Fine, fine,” He got up and looked over the edge. “Let’s just hurry up.”

Since the police cars were likely looking for a male fitting Nathan’s description (if they had even seen him directly), there were none parked nearby the girls dormitory. Given it was late at night all the students were inside sleeping, so all their cars parked gave you and Nathan great cover as you darted from vehicle to vehicle, occasionally looking through windows just to make sure there was no one undercover watching. It was an easy trip and in no time at all you were both bounding the steps leading up to the door. You used your key to open the doors and when you both stepped inside there was physical relief, the walls providing shelter from both the outside and from the all the possible watching eyes. But, your ‘mission’ wasn’t complete yet. You put a finger to your lips, looking back at Nathan before starting to walk through the hallways. Stopping at your door, you were suddenly embarrassed at the stupid messages your friends left you on your whiteboard. Nathan saw them and of course had to make some sort of scene, raising his brows and pointing at the remarks. Though you wanted to lock him out, you opened your door and led him inside.

Your room was never the cleanest but it wasn’t dirty either. The only thing you were had an issue with was decorating- you didn’t have much decor whatsoever. All your room consisted of was basic necessities: a night stand, a bed, a dresser, and your homework desk, and even that was rather bland.

“Wow,” He breathed, standing in the center of the room while you pulled open your drawers and grabbed at your baggier clothes. Most of it was pajamas but he’d have to make do if he really wanted to have something clean to wear. You looked over at him, and he laughed under his breath. “Your room fucking sucks.”

Your fingers squeezed at the knobs of your dresser in frustration, eyes slipping closed as an irritated sigh left your lips. “I’m still moving in.”

“Yeah I can see that. It’s so vacant and- are those cobwebs?”

“Shut up, Nathan.” you shoved a pair of sweatpants and a black t shirt at his chest, which he grabbed and glared at you for the act of aggression.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Given you’re in my room, about to be wearing my clothes, and you dragged me into some sort of legal shit, I think I can tell you whatever I want.” He rolled his eyes but didn’t speak, so you continued. “Change your clothes and then go so I can get some sleep. Or maybe do homework.”

“Wow you sure know how to party.” he said sarcastically, tossing the clothes you gave him onto the bed. Without warning he grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, baring his stomach and chest to you.

“Woah!” you gasped, sharply turning around and staring at the wall. “A heads up would be nice next time!”

“Maybe if you weren’t always fucking staring at me that wouldn’t happen.” Despite his bitterness you could hear a waver in his voice- maybe he was shy after all.

“Are we really going to start this ‘stop watching me’ crap again?” You groaned, slumping your shoulders. From behind you, you could hear the shuffling of fabrics as he presumably dressed into the top you’d give him. It was a shock that you didn’t care less he was probably putting his dirty clothes on your bed.

“You’re always staring at me,” He started, but he wasn’t mad. Your brows knit at the sound of his voice, as mellow as it was. “You never say shit, but you’re always staring at me.”

“I see you here and there, Nathan. It’s not like I look for you on purpose.” Your cheeks were starting to warm as you realized that maybe yeah, you were looking for him on purpose. There was no way you’d say that to him, though. He’d probably get mad about it for some reason you couldn’t quite place. Your face flushed even hotter when you heard what sounded like his belt being undone, and even though you weren’t looking and this definitely wasn’t a romantic situation, it was still jarring to know he was undressed behind you. Grow up, ___, you mentally screamed at yourself. 

“Even before everything you were always there. You were so fucking creepy, you know that? The new kid who never said shit. You were always watching everyone.”

“I didn’t have any friends, sue me.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“You’re one to talk?” Without thinking you turned sharply, glaring at him in anger. How dare he talk to you like he was Mr. Popular. Everyone hated him! The rumors, the names, all the things you’d heard about him, and he was grilling you for not making any friends? For being ‘creepy’ because you were distant at a new school? Through your anger you barely registered the fact that he was still pants less, staring at you like he didn’t understand it either. There was a tense moment of silence, and you felt your mouth dry. You turned back around. “Sorry. You just-” you shoulders tensed. “You piss me off so much.”

There was more rustling behind you and finally you heard his sigh. “Stop looking at the wall, I’m done.”

Hesitantly you turned, looking at him through the corners of your eyes just incase for some reason he wasn't dressed still. When you saw he was, in fact, covered, you let your shoulders relax again. It was odd seeing him in casual clothing given he mostly wore rather expensive materials, and you inwardly smiled. He looked cute with your clothes on and his hair all messed up. For once he didn’t look all posh and fake, he looked human. A very dirty human who still had dirt all over his face, so you grabbed the baby-wipes you kept on your nightstand and handed them to him.

“Baby wipes?” He asked, wiping his cheekbones and beneath his eyes. “What am I, five?”

“You might as well be sometimes.” you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, watching him wipe the dirt from his face and then his hands. When he finished it was quite the sight to see him bunch them up and then just toss them on your floor, and you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“Be quiet.” He muttered, and then started tugging at the clothes he was wearing, looking down at them with a disgruntled expression. .

You, having grown far too tired to deal with much more of his shit, rolled your eyes at his constant display of anger. “Why do you do that?”  He looked at you like he had no idea what you were talking about, and it annoyed you that much more. “I can’t say anything to you without you getting all pissy and mad. If I bother you that much than why are you here?”

“Um,” He grabbed the collar of the shirt he was wearing. “I told you I needed fucking clothes.”

“Then why didn’t you call someone else! You’ve got delinquent friends, I’m sure.”

“Because I ran into you, you were there.” Nathan scowled at you and made his way past the bed, staring to take small steps towards you he grew increasingly upset. You wished you could’ve held your tongue but you still kept going.

“I could’ve gotten arrested,” you hissed. “It would have been all your fault.”

“Hey, I got out of the mess, didn’t I?”

“Barely! And I didn’t ask you to!”

Nathan was upon you in a moment, hand slamming flat against the wall beside your head. You hated how he was capable of dwarfing you, leaving you feeling defenseless against him even if he had virtually no muscle on his frame. It was his eyes, his shoulders, his aura that made you bite your tongue. The tension in the air was so thick you could’ve choked on it, and the silence wasn’t helping. He was just staring you, eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. You really fucked up this time.

“You have no idea the shit I’ve done for you.” He growled, hand balling into a fist beside your head. Your anger only festered as he spoke, and you could feel your body start to shake at the intense moment. He leaned in close to you, eyes on fire. “You should be grateful, ___. It fucks up my reputation.”

“You don’t care about your reputation,” You breathed, your voice calm despite the wave of fury boiling beneath your skin. “And if in some way you do, then why do you keep helping me?”

His eyes bore into your own, unmoving, unchanging. He didn’t answer your question even if it was entirely direct, and you found yourself nearly breathless as he grew closer to you. So much flowed through you, first the anger that lit you up, the sudden fear of being caught in a corner, and now you just stood there, looking back up at him and shaking. You were so pissed off him at him but you couldn’t say anything else, the thickness in their almost tangible.

Nathan was so fearsome, but for some reason he didn’t scare you. Indimitiated you, yes, but you never felt like he would hurt you. Sure, the thought of being hit crossed your mind, but somehow you just knew he wouldn’t. Even now, backed up against the wall with his arms caging you in front of him, you didn’t cower beneath him. You couldn't meet the intensity of his eyes as there was just too much within them, but you hoped you could muster up something to at least be on the same level.

When you spoke again, you were hesitant and soft.

“Why are you helping me?”

It barely rose above a whisper in the quiet room. He blinked, licked at his lips, and for a moment you swore he leaned in to kiss you. You almost met him halfway. But then he pushed himself back, settled his hand on his forehead.

“Nevermind.” He whispered hotly. “Just fucking-- forget I said anything.”

You found yourself almost chasing him, taking a step forward and fighting the urge to rest your hands on his chest. “Tell me,” You murmured, trying to coax him into an explanation. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why do you care so much?” He retorted, letting his hands fall to his waists in vexation. He knew what you were going to say, so continued spoke before you could answer. “I should leave.”

Not quite timid, not quite furious, either. He was in a strange state of mind and you wanted to know more about it. But, he wasn’t willing, suddenly appearing like he’d rather be anywhere but your room despite being the one who demanded he come over. Still shaking from your previous position, you shrugged and sighed. There wasn’t a point in arguing with him anymore. The best way to get something out of Nathan was to have him acting like a loose cannon, talking with no filter or worry of consequence. He was learning, you realized, and that’s how he forced himself away from you. He stopped himself before he revealed too much information. You desperately wished to know what he would have done, but you gave in anyways.

“Fine, yeah. I’ll walk you out.”

Nathan looked at you and there was something there, you could see it and you could feel it. Disappointment, but then acceptance. He shifted his weight and subconsciously tried to shove his hands into his pockets, but given he had none, opted to just shrugging his head down.

He pushed past you, unlocking your door before walking out as if he had a right to be there. You didn’t turn, not yet, staring ahead in your room feeling almost dazed. He was so spontaneous, and you had no idea what he was thinking at any given moment, but when you had your back to the wall, his physique almost shrinking yours, you thought maybe you knew. When you closed your eyes in disappointment, you felt shame course through you. You had wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him, and then ask him why he was such an asshole at times. God, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Are you coming or not?” Nathan whispered behind you. “I can one-hundred percent walk my ass out of here if you’d rather stand around.”

You opened your eyes and tried to push yourself out of your own head, turning on your heel, grabbing your phone, and slipping outside your door. Just like when you had first come in, the halls were dark without even a single light showing beneath the cracks of the rooms surrounding you two.

“What if the cars aren’t gone yet?” You whispered, looking out for any security guards before darting down the corridor. You saw him shrug in front of you, eyes forward at the front doors.

“They probably aren’t,” Nathan moved forward and you followed suit, oddly impressed at how easy it was for him to choose the right moment for sneaking around. “I’ll just stay at V’s or something. Wouldn’t be the first time I was out all night anyways.”

You frowned. 

Stay at my room.

“Why are you out at night?” You asked, and he didn’t answer. “Seriously, you get into all this trouble- why?”

“None of your damn business, that’s why.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot tonight.”

He glared at you over his shoulder, a silent order to shut up. Though you wanted to argue and force things out of him you didn’t, shaking your head in defeat and sighing. As he made his way to the front doors he cupped the window with his hands, peering out and giving a breath of relief when there was nothing but empty cars in the parking lot.

“Alright,” He started, unlocking the door and carefully pushing it open. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut about this, got it? I find out you snitched and I’ll-”

“Shoot me, I know.” You crossed your arms. “And I already know what you’re going to say next: don’t expect the favor to be returned.”

He gave one last scan of the parking lot before turning to you, snatching your phone out of your hands. He was typing before you even had a chance to grab it back, gaping at him like he had two heads. “Actually,” He mumbled. “You should. You only get one, though. One. Don’t fucking waste it on some stupid shit.” He practically threw your phone back at you and luckily you caught it.

As Nathan stuck one foot out of the door, the breeze cutting through the opening and chilling you to the bone, he glanced at you over his shoulder. His expression was different than it had been moments ago, you noticed. There was no anger this time, no irritation. Thank you, it said. It felt like you were freeing an previously injured animal.

There was silence, and then he was gone.

[dcbicki]

“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 6

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: Explicit content In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

If she’s in this for the long haul then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by.

If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

Chapter 1: x | x Chapter 2: x | x Chapter 3: x | x Chapter 4: x | x Chapter 5: x | x

-

"If you don't like it, well... that's tough shit."

"Honest, at least." She raises her brows, eyes the ring skeptically.

It's a silver band, and it's simple enough. The diamond isn't huge, but it isn't exactly discreet either. The diamond is square and, while she doesn't want to know how many carats it is, it's just so fucking him.

It's just what she's never wanted, mainly because she's never wanted a ring.

It's pretty, and it's nice, and it's small, and it's practically fucking perfect in every way.

(But if it's perfect - in her own words - then doesn't that make it perfect for her?)

He doesn't make a show of it, doesn't drop some grand proposal (she'd been half expecting it, in all seriousness, because he's fake when he wants to be).

He doesn't get down on one knee, and he doesn't hold the box open and wait for her to gasp.

He just gives her the little navy box (shut), and she's grateful.

She makes a necklace with the silver chain from an old pendant, slides the ring onto it before clasping it shut.

It hangs loosely around her neck, the silver band hanging just above her breasts.

"It's heavy as all fuck. What, you couldn't find a smaller rock to drill into?"

"No need to be ungrateful, Amy." He mumbles through gritted teeth, glancing down at her beside him. She just rolls her eyes, yawns when he mentions something about the cost.

They'd - no, she had - decided that it'd be better to wear it around her neck rather than on her finger.

He'd made a shitty joke about her having two engagements rings within a little over a year. She'd slapped him on the arm (hard, twice).

"Chill the fuck out. It's not like you're the one having to wear it."

"You didn't even try it."

"I didn't need to. You can have it back in a few months anyway." She informs him, scowl present, "Then you can pass it along the next floozy you fuck and fuck over."

"Oh, Amy, you're not a floozy." He quips, "Just a bit of a slut when I'm around."

Yeah. Sure. Maybe that's because your fucking spastic sperm infected me.

"I need to pack later."

They can't move in to their apartment yet because they're heading to Iowa tomorrow to set up the new campaign offices. So, in the meantime, her place is a bit of a danger zone, and his house looks like the sight of a bomb explosion.

There are clothes everywhere, books and journals and papers and empty coffee mugs scattered over every table or any available flat surface.

"You know, we could just head to the airport together."

"Nope."

She picks up her keys, tries to ignore the fucking diamond hanging around her neck like a tag, a stamp.

It's like he fucking owns her. That thought makes her sick. Fuck this plan.

"Fine." Dan slips on his coat, "You ready for brunch with Lurch?"

"If it isn't Frankenstein's monster himself."

There's an easily read expression etching itself onto Amy's face as the seconds go by, one that says: 'I would give my left tit to be anywhere else right now.'

She sits down in the seat directly opposite Jonah, crosses her legs below the shabby little table he's chosen, folds her hands together above the sticky surface, sharp elbows pressing into the wood.

"Amy," He greets, and she's already annoyed, "Sperm Danny... I mean, donor."

It's crap, lazy. Even by his standards.

"Jonad."

The old nickname comes back into play, Dan resting his coat over the back of his seat. He slides the chair out next to Amy, keeps some distance between them, between himself and the table as though he's gonna get up and walk away any minute (already).

The taller guy stabs his cheek with his tongue, lets a grin decorate his assface, "How's it going, guys?" He asks, "Amy, you feeling sick? I told the waitress to bring us a bucket incase you feel like you're gonna throw up all over the fucking table."

Fuck.

"Believe me, if I was going to, I'd projectile in your face, Jonah." She closes her eyes for a brief moment, can already feel a sigh rising, "We're only here because Selina suggested it, alright?"

"You still taking orders from that batshit hag?" His brows raise and he looks gormless (because, of course).

The waitress appears at Dan's side of the table then, ratty little notebook in hand, apron on an angle because she was probably fucking the cook in the back alley during her fifteen minute break.

Trust Jonah to choose a shitty diner, just to fuck with them. At least there aren't any baskets full of bread rolls, Dan gazes of into the distance at the thought.

"Oh, they won't be eating." Jonah interrupts before she can take their order, looking down at his own plate; an omelette and two fried eggs on the side. What the fuck-?

Amy gives the woman a half-hearted glare then, and she seems to get the message because she hurries off, mumbling to herself under her breath.

"Look, we know it was you."

"Me? Me, what?" He holds up his hands, palms visible to the pair, "Oh, you mean me who planted a spy?"

"A spy? Jesus Christ, we're not in the fucking mob." Amy rolls her eyes, glancing down at her watch, "Let's just cut the crap-"

Dan interrupts then, sliding one hand over the table, tapping two fingers on a ring mark, "Selina wants you to shut the fuck up from now on."

"Why the hell would I do that?" He haunches his shoulders, "That bitch thinks she's gonna be president, she's not another thing coming. She made my life hell."

"You made your own life hell, Jonah." Amy clarifies, with one nod of the head, "By being born."

"Yeah, well... If she's my competition then I'm sure as shit gonna have to think two steps ahead of her. Aren't I, Amy?" He tests, "I know all your secrets. I worked with you guys for years."

"You worked for us, you tool. We were never equals."

Jonah points a finger, "Correction, Daniel. You worked for me back in New Hampshire-"

"Because I fucking told him to." Amy points out, breathing in heavily, feeling her face form a frown, "You think you could win an election without any of us? Please." She scoffs, pulling her phone from her purse, resigning from the discussion.

"Yeah, never mind the fuckin' presidency." Dan grins, watches Amy's phone screen for a second as she scrolls through her mail. This conversation's already dead. "You really think you can win?"

"Oh, I'm going to win." He tells them, like it's fact, "And you're both gonna be sat at home with your fucking dog and your fucking baby in your matching bathrobes watching me win." He stabs a finger against his own chest, ignores Dan's laugh, "Nice ring, Amy."

He's looking at the necklace around her neck, the silver band tucked safely in the cleavage, hidden behind the first button of her blouse.

"Get your fucking eyes off me." She warns, pulls her bag closer up her lap, turns her body sideways (slightly) until she's facing the entrance to the restaurant.

He leers, looks over her shoulder down her front, "Come on, show it to me."

"Seriously, man, fuck off."

"What, are you going to hit me, Dan?" He whines, challenges, "We're in a public space. You'd get thrown out of here in no time."

Dan smirks, clasps his hands together, leaning back into the wooden seat, "I would enjoy nothing more." He informs him with a shake of the head, eyes almost daring, corners of his mouth curled upward.

"You know what, I'm done here." Amy stands suddenly, looking back and forth between the two men, fastening the buttons of her coat, "I'm gonna trust that you can shut him the fuck up, permanently if necessary, because I have work to do." She looks at Dan, forcing him to break his stare-down. "And you?" She turns to Jonah, "Look at my tits one more time and I will behead you with the fucking umbilical cord this little bastard is clinging onto."

"What, no goodbye kiss?" Jonah's smile only widens when she walks out the door, and he leans back in his seat, all long limbs and shit-eating grin, "Dan, already in the doghouse!"

"Just shut the fuck up." Dan groans, rolling his head back, eyes shut. "God, you know, if you were just a little less of a human error, you wouldn't be so aggravating. You're like a robot the developer never finished, trained to spew shit and verbally assault women."

"Says you? You knock Amy up and now you're gonna marry her?"

"What, you jealous you couldn't get in there?" He smirks, but it's masked and Jonah is too oblivious to read through it.

"God, Dan, it's the twenty-first century."

What does that-?

"We're not getting married, jack-hole."

A slip of the tongue, and he's just given away their game. Already. If word got out that they were faking before they even started-

Eyes wide, he gulps, wags a finger in Jonah's face, "You didn't fuckin' hear that."

"Oh, but I did." He's fucking beaming, "Wait 'til the press gets wind of this, that you guys are fake-fucking for attention. Jesus, is it even your kid?"

Dan ignores that comment, licks his lips after a pause. Fuck!

"What's it gonna take for you to shut your mouth about this?"

"Well..."

"He wants access."

"Access to what?"

"Your schedule, meetings, etcetera, etcetera." Dan folds one leg over the other, pushes back against the cushions of Selina's cushions, "I told him I would."

"And I assume you're gonna lie?" Amy questions from her space across the room, one hand extended as Selina signs some papers.

Dan grins, proud, "Of course." He shrugs, "We'll change some dates, change some names. He wants to be two steps ahead so we'll just push him five steps back."

Selina nods, "I like it." She clicks her tongue, points at Amy, "And while we're at it, Ame, you're still heading down to Iowa tonight ahead of us, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What?" He perks up then, "Why are you-"

We didn't talk about this.

"For fuck's sake, Dan, let her breathe."

Amy nods, glances from Selina to him and back again, "I've just gotta set up the office, make sure everything's up and ready for when the team arrives on Thursday." She smiles, brushes a strand of hair behind her ear with her hand clutching her phone.

Dan stands, takes two steps closer, "Well, then, I think I should be there."

"Uh, you're not fucking going anywhere. Yet." Selina frowns with a shake of her head, a wave of her hands, "I need you here." She points out.

Did she hire BKD as a consultancy firm, or did they take her on as a candidate? He gets confused sometimes, truthfully.

"You're my wise guy, my witty little writer." She offers, and then nods her head toward Amy, whose eyebrows rise up at the gesture, "It's Iowa, for Christ's sakes. Who lives there? Old white people and their three-legged pets? She'll be fine." Selina brushes it off, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yeah, Dan," Amy takes her cue to leave then, retrieving the signed file from her boss, brushing past the man on her way out of the office, cocky smile on her face, "I'll be fine. Chill." She lifts a brow, teases him.

"You see?" Selina tilts her head, waits until the door has slammed shut before continuing, "You need to calm the fuck down."

"I am calm." He argues, hands sliding into his trouser pockets, shoulders stiff, "She just didn't tell me she was leaving-"

"She doesn't need to tell you jackshit. She's a grown ass woman." Selina reminds him, eyeing him carefully, "You're not together. Hell, you're barely even friends. You just fucked one time and got stuck with the world's worst hangover." She shrugs, almost careless.

"Not one time, per se." Dan rubs at his face, scratches at his brow as he glances off.

Selina pulls a face, half-disgust, half-annoyance, "Whatever the fuck, I don't care." She purses her lips, "Go find Kent, he called looking for you earlier."

"He didn't fuckin' call me." Dan mutters, childlike.

"I'm just saying, we're probably gonna have to start-"

Ben groans, loud, "We're not fucking polling everything, Kent. Jesus, do you poll your sex life? Have mapped out your girlfriend's orgasm frequency on a fucking graph?"

Dan would laugh if it wasn't within the realms the possibility, so he just grins, continues to sip on his coffee.

"We are at a crossroads here." Kent holds up his pen, "If we don't get her here," he points to a some pink coloured blob on his handmade map of the United States, "then we don't get her here." He circles D.C. then, scraping the lid of his marker along the whiteboard.

"She's going, it's in the books, it's on the cards." Ben points out, eyes wide, "Chill the fuck out."

How in the ever loving name of the fuck did Dan manage to go into business with these two?

"Hey, hot stuff."

He snaps back to reality then, blinking quickly to collect himself, "Yeah?"

"You with us? Or have we lost you already?" Ben leans up from his slouched position, stares Dan down, "Don't you dare fucking run off to the land of the fairies. We're not fucking changing the name of this place already."

"Nah, I'm good." He sighs, forces a deep breath, "Just tired."

"Amy keeping you up?"

"What? No." He answers, a little too quickly for even his own liking. "No."

Kent feels the need to interject then, finger scratching at his temple with squinting eyes, "I have no personal experience in this... field, but I think perhaps this fatigue you're experiencing is actually worry."

What, because Amy is probably on a flight right about-

"What?" The colour would drain from his face if he weren't so pale in the first place.

"Yeah, you know what? That makes sense." Ben nods, confirms, and Dan honestly can't tell if he's being fucked with. "I had the same thing happen to me-"

"You fuckin' hate your kids."

"This kinda shit still happens, you polished jizz-stick! It's a side-effect... or some shit." The older man clarifies, scrunching up his face, "Whether you like it or not, you're feeling something."

"No. No." He shakes his head, stands to stretch his legs and stand his ground, "No. I do not have feelings. About anything." His pearly whites flash and his brows raise (high), "I'm fucking stone cold, alright?"

"Sure thing." Ben chuckles, disbelieving, "We'll see if you're still stone cold when she has that baby. Even I'm not that fucking dark."

She arrives at the hotel sometime past one o'clock, when the sky is still quite dark and people are no doubt still partying it up only blocks away.

The cab driver helps her with her bags, and she's checked in long before she'd expected to be. It's a small hotel, but it's still perfect for the team to stay while they work.

She inquires about room service, makes sure nobody can have food delivered to someone else's room. Thankfully, much to Dan's dismay (she's sure), they don't do that.

She asks about the conference room, and the lady at the reception desk gives her a brochure as though she's some kind of fucking tourist. The brochure is in the trashcan the minute she makes it back up to her room for a shower. She'd pulled her hair up, slipped on the first thing out of her case that wasn't a skirt or dress.

Phone in hand, she settles into bed with the good intention of getting at least eight hours of sleep. She needs it, as of late.

But there are twelve text messages and three missed calls, and one missed FaceTime call.

Fuck off, Dan.

Granted, five of the texts are from Gary. He asks for random shit, shit that only Selina could want. Amy's not sure why he would think she was the right person to ask about herbal teas.

No, I don't know where the fucking sweeteners are, Gary.

And, granted, two of the missed calls are from Richard. She calls back, and he tells her that he must have butt-dialled her by mistake. She believes it, and hangs up on him when he starts talking about the latest addition to his jeans' collection.

The rest? The rest are Dan.

Dan and his never-fucking-ending need to be there.

"What?"

"Hello to you, too."

"I was with you all morning." She points out, brings her legs up, resting her chin on her right knee, "What do you want?"

"I just," he pauses, and she can hear him sigh. Great. "Are you wearing it?"

Amy grins, glancing down, "I might be."

Her hair is long enough that some strands slips free from her ponytail, and she has half a mind to hunt down a pair of scissors just to cut it herself. It sends shivers down her spine, and she trembles at the feather-like sensation crawling down her neck. Fucking hormones. Literally anything will set her off.

"Does it fit?"

She decides she likes fucking with him, "Like a glove." Her brows knit at his quiet, and she wants to clear her throat to break the silence. Did he seriously call to just check-

"Good." If he could see her, he'd complain about her frown, say her face will probably just stick like that one day. If he could see her, he would see her wearing it. "Take it off."

Her leg drops then, and she folds them beneath her, suddenly all ears, "What?"

"Take it off."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because I told you to."

"Well, I don't want to."

"Well, I bought it."

"So, what, you own me?" Amy sighs, half-tempted to hang up on him, too. "Fuck you, it's mine now."

She can tell he's only fucking with her by the tone of his voice, all whiny and boyish. Fuck, she can practically see the smirk on his face. "You know, if I was there, I could take it off you."

"As if I'd let you." She snorts, "Besides, you're not here so... Tough luck, asshole."

"Please."

He almost sounds desperate, drained, and she almost feels bad. So what if he's tired, if he's stressed? She's the one carrying around an extra human being, for crying out loud.

"No."

"Amy."

She takes a sip of water from the glass beside the bed, puts the phone on speaker as she reaches for the hotel's alarm clock, configuring it. "Give me one good reason why I should."

Dan takes a moment to reply, and she can hear him rummaging through something, probably shoving his hand down his pants, possibly pulling another beer from the fridge. His voice is loud and clear after a second though, "Whatever. I'm gonna video-call you."

"What, so you can watch?" She grimaces, placing the clock back down with a thud. She draws her legs back up under her, stretches out her arms and neck above her head, eyes closed, "You're such a fucking perv." Despite herself, despite her better judgment, she giggles.

Fucking hormones.

She cranes her neck to the side (first left, then right), waits for it to click, drops her hands to her lap, toying with the hem of the shirt, running a finger over the bottom, daring herself to raise it. God.

"Wait..." There's a pause on his end, a breath, "What?"

"What?" Her hand stills, midway up her thigh, fingers splayed.

"What?"

"What?"

Oh.

"Dan?" She closes one eye, glancing up at the ceiling with parted lips, "What were you talking about?"

He grunts something, and she can hear the rumble of his throat before he talks, "The... ring."

"Ah." Her mouth hangs open, and she is just so fucking stupid.

"Why?" He's gonna laugh, she can feel it. "What were you talking about, Amy?"

There it is.

That smug tone of voice that just lets her know how fucking amused he is right now, how fucking amusing he finds her.

"Nothing."

"Amy."

"Your shirt." She chews at her bottom lip, feels her nostrils flare as her eyes drift to a heavy close, "I kind of just... packed it and put it on, didn't even pay attention." Shit. Worst fucking mistake ever, "I thought you'd noticed it was gone or something. It's not my fault you leave your fucking clothes everywhere."

"Why do you have one of my shirts, Amy?"

He uses her name to taunt her, says it in a sing-song voice that she now fucking loathes. Yeah, she's gonna hang up on him any second now, she's decided. Any second now...

"What were you... doing?" He sucks in his lower lip and she can hear it, hear the breathy little noise, "Jesus, did you think I was trying to get you to have phone sex? Fuck, even I'm a little classier than that, Ames."

He laughs - laughs - and she's honestly never felt so goddamn embarrassed. Not even when- And she'd fucking giggled.

Fuck!

"But, hey, listen, if you're down-"

"Shut the fuck up." Amy huffs, shoulders tensing as she eyes the duvet longingly, cold, "This never happened. I'm going to sleep now."

"Seriously?" He whines, "No, come on." Dan does something and then his voice lowers, and she's fucking dreading seeing him tomorrow. "Come on, take your- Take my top off."

He wants to laugh, she can feel it. "You're an asshole."

"I'm just trying to get you off because apparently that's what you're after." Jesus, she can just picture him; on his couch, warm beer in one hand, limp dick is his other, shaped brows raised like a complete prick. "Amy."

And she has to live with this asshole now. Christ!

"What?" She snaps, and she only half meant to.

"You know you can hang up if you want to."

"I know." God, just... Fuck him! She would - hang up, fuck him - because she wants to. She just doesn't want to (hang up) that much. "My battery's low."

"I can be quick."

"And you thought I was the horny one?" It's her turn to laugh (because fuck him), "Wow, Dan. How ever could I refuse such an offer?"

It's amazing, honestly, how she so willingly, easily fell into a pattern with him, fell into a fucking routine.

We'll just fuck on the semi regular, maybe.

"What, you mean you don't want a quick phone fuck?" The smirk is just so obvious, "It was your idea."

"I thought you were initiating it." She reasons, "I wasn't fucking suggesting it."

"Okay, well, I will forsake my standards and engage in phone sex with you, if that's what you'd like."

"That's surprisingly sweet."

"I know, it's this new thing I'm trying. Hasn't been working so far."

"It's probably your face. You just look like someone who deserves a broken nose."

"That's surprisingly soft, coming from you."

"I know, it's this new thing I'm trying. It seems to be working." She smirks, lets the silence linger without it becoming awkward. She fucking enjoys it, in her own way. "I'm only being nice because you're not here, you know."

"Same." He copies, agrees. "Back to our regular programming tomorrow then?"

"Obviously." She sighs, lowers her eyes until they rest on her stomach. Sometimes, she just forgets. Forgets how they came to be, forgets how they ended up this way. Sometimes, she just forgets. "I read an article earlier."

"About what?" Does he sound tired? Jesus, fuck, are they actually having one of those late-night phone calls she has been dreading having since she was in her late teens? Fuck that.

"It said your dick might shrink in size once the baby comes."

"Fuck off. No, it didn't." Dan snorts.

She lies back then, one hand on her pelvis, the other holding the phone up to her ear. "Imagine if it did though. You'd have no dick left."

"I thought you were trying to be nice."

"No, that's you." She reminds him, licks her lips, "I'm practicing to be soft, and... motherly." Fuck, she wants to vomit.

He groans, sounds resigned, "Fuck."

"Do you want me to hang up?"

"Well, if we're not gonna do it then I'm sure as shit not gonna keep you awake."

"We can't do it, over the phone. It's like... you do you, I do me."

He laughs, but it's fine this time. She doesn't mind. "Yeah, thanks for the clarification, Amy. Because you're an expert or something."

"What, you think I'm a complete prude unless it involves you?" God, she wants to laugh in his face. "Your head's so far up your own."

"Well, I would happily have my head all up in your-"

"Okay."

"Yeah. Tomorrow?"

"No. No." She scowls, uselessly, "Okay, as in... OK. As in, I think we're done here. I have to get up early to head to the offices and Selina's got me running a bunch of errands."

"How the fuck did we hitch our wagon to her star? It lost all glimmer like three fuckin' elections ago."

"She understands us. She's a mess, too. She's had more breakdowns than all of us combined."

"Well, to my count, I've only had one-"

"London?" She frowns, feels a smile dance along her lips, "Did I ever tell you the truth about that one?"

"What truth?" He sounds confused, completely out of the know. And there's another pause. "It was Jonah and his fucking Mar-"

"Horny Mary Poppins?" She continues, trails off, accent in full swing.

Pause.

Silence.

"The fuck?" He doesn't sound mad, or angry, rather just... Stunned. "The fuck!"

"You stole my job."

"Yeah, well..." He swallows, and she can practically hear his breath, "Now I wanna phone fuck."

"Why am I not surprised that my trying to destroy you just turned you on? So twisted."

"So?" Dan asks, and she hears his fucking fly unzip, "Come on."

"Are you fucking kidding me? No." She shakes her head, face flushed despite herself, "Take care of that one yourself, asshole." Amy brushes hair behind her ear, yawns when she can't hold it back any longer.

"I'll be thinking of you."

"So gross. Whatever. I'm going to bed."

"Sweet wet dreams," Jesus, fuck, his breathing is heavy, "of me."

"Yeah, dream the fuck on, Dan."

"Oh, I will."