#he’s being pretty good though. definitely a little impatient while we look at the exhibits

[dogtiber]

he thinks the stained glass museum is boring

[4kominato]

Part I: The Older Brothers 

Part II: The Younger Brothers

A/N: Hi friends... first of all... if you thought this blog was SFW i apologize, it’s not 😃 im very much a hoe. Second, yes, I’ve been mostly posting drawings, but I also enjoy writing so I’ll be posting these kinds of reactions and scenarios every now and then, mostly for Obey Me and probably Daiya. I’m not taking requests as of now but eventually, I might so stay tuned! I was originally gonna post all together, but it was getting kinda long ;) and also I was just too excited to post after I finished Satan’s LMAO. I finished Belphie but still working on Asmo and Beel so I’ll be posting the younger bros later ^-^

DESCRIPTION: Female MC making the brothers hard for the first time. Assume MC x Demon are in a fairly new relationship. [[NSFW below]]

(Word Count: 511)

It’d been roughly two months since you’d first confessed to the eldest of the demon brothers, Lucifer. The two of you have since, become official, and Lucifer made it very clear to his brothers that you were now his. Considering it was still pretty early in your relationship though, the two of you hadn’t been too intimate yet, but having already been a few months, you felt that it was time for that to change.

The other week, there was a huge sale on Akuzon and you happened to stumble across a good deal on a cute lingerie set. Unable to shake the thought that it’d be a good way to test the waters with your new boyfriend, you went ahead and bought it.

“What brings you here?” Lucifer answered the door shortly after you knocked.

“Can I sleep here tonight? There was a bug in my room,” you lied, looking up at him innocently.

“Oh?” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you, “Shall I go and kill it for you?”

“I mean… I’m already here so there’s no need. Plus I have no idea where it went, it probably crawled somewhere,” you reasoned as you pushed past him and welcomed yourself into his room.

“Well, alright then,” he finally agreed as he shut the door, “And where exactly do you plan to sleep?”

“Um, in your bed… with you,” you smiled pleadingly, hoping he wouldn’t put up too much of a fight.

“And who gave you permission to do that?”

“Hmm… me?”

“I see you’re being bold,” he smirked, stroking his fingers through your hair, “I guess since you’re my girlfriend now, I can’t say no to that suggestion.”

“Yay! I love you,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I love you, too,” he grinned before leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

“Hey, Luci,” you mumbled into the kiss.

“Hm?” he hummed softly in response.

“Can I show you something?”

“Of course.”

Pulling away from him, you took a step back before beginning to unbutton your shirt. About two buttons down, you were stopped by a hand gripping your wrist and you were met with a slightly flushed, wide-eyed Lucifer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked awkwardly whilst trying to still sound stern.

“Showing you the ‘something’ that you agreed I could show you. Do you disagree now?”

“Uh well, not exactly...”

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna do anything. This is just an exhibition,” you teased as you proceeded against the force on your wrist to finish unbuttoning your shirt.

He gulped as you slid the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the ground, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red as he drank in the sight of your lace adorned breasts. Smirking to yourself, you reapproached him and slung your arms around his neck, your thigh rubbing up against the bulge forming in his pants.

“Excited are we? I haven’t even shown you the bottom half yet.”

“It’s been a few hundred years, alright… give me a break…”

(Word Count: 500)

Classes at RAD were finally finishing up, and what better way to celebrate than a pool party? Diavolo had planned it, of course, inviting all the demon brothers, the other exchange students, and even their friends from the Celestial Realm.

Over the course of the semester, you took a particular liking to Mammon, and despite him denying it for the longest time, about a week before finals, he finally admitted that he liked you too. You were both looking forward to spending more time together at the pool party and having a good time now that you finally didn’t have to worry about school.

Arriving at the pool, you were immediately met with Diavolo who greeted you and welcomed you to the gathering. You saw that mostly everyone had arrived already and you were probably the last. It didn’t take you too long to spot Mammon’s silver hair and tan skin in the crowd so without hesitation, you started making your way over to him.

“Hi Mammon,” you said shyly, interrupting his conversation with his brothers.

“He- WHOA!” he exclaimed as he turned to look at you, his eyes wide as ever seeing you in your bikini. “Uh… hey guys, excuse me for a sec, would ya?” he said nonchalantly as he stood up and quickly dragged you away to the nearest room he could find.

“Oi! What do ya think you're wearing?!” he blurted pinning you to the door, “Or like… why aren’t you wearing more?”

“It’s a bikini, Mammon, because this is y’know, a pool party…?” you mocked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Grr… pool party my butt, you can’t be goin’ out there in front of all those guys wearin’ that. Especially not around Asmo, he might get all touchy, grabby y'know.”

“What about you? I’m sure you want some touchy, grabby action right now don’t you?” you teased, knowing he was just being jealous and possessive.

“Me?! No way, I ain’t nothing like Asmo, I can definitely control myself around a human.”

“Oh? But I think that predicament in your trunks say otherwise.”

“Oi! W-why’re you lookin’ down there?” he blushed, finally letting go of his grip on you as he turned his body away.

“I was just taking a peak at your body… and then my eyes kinda just… slipped,” you feigned innocence as you walked up to him, your hands stroking over his toned abs as you quickly went in for a kiss.

“You better not tell the others about this…” he said shyly, finally giving in and wrapping his arms around you, his hands going straight to your ass.

“I mean… they probably already have their suspicions considering you dragged me away… alone…”

“WHAT?!”

“Shh! Calm down, babe… if we're already here, we might as well make good use of the situation, right? I know you want to.”

“Uh… I mean… I suppose… but only because we’re already here…” he agreed shyly, his cheeks still flushed as he avoided eye contact with you.

(Word Count: 513)

“Levi…” you whined as you laid sprawled out on his bed, “When are you gonna be done with that game?”

“Hold on… I’m almost done…” he replied, his attention still fixed on his screen.

“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago!?”

“No, I’m serious this time.”

“Ugh…”

Growing impatient, you peeled yourself off his bed and made your way towards him, sitting down right next to him on the sofa, as close as you possibly could. Leaning against him, you turned to look at him, intently gazing at him as he continued to play his game.

“Levi, why are you ignoring me?” you whispered into his ear before pressing soft kisses along his neck, wrapping  your arms around one of his and hugging it close to your body.

“I-I’m not… I’m just trying to finish this up really quick...” he stuttered, still trying his best to concentrate on his game, but now that you were all over him and distracting him, he was failing miserably.

“You are though…” you pouted at him, leaning your head against his when he refused to look at you.

As hard as he tried to ignore it, on top of you leaning on him, he couldn’t help but notice the feeling of your boobs pressing against his arm. It was embarrassing for him  to admit it, but in all honesty he had thought of you in ‘that way’ many times before, but never while you were around. After all, you were his girlfriend so he couldn’t really help it, but he didn’t wanna be making advances if you weren’t on the same page as him.

“Babe… are you okay?” you giggled, noticing his face was now as red as a tomato.

“Yeah! I’m perfectly fine!” he lied, biting his lip as he struggled to retain his focus.

You hadn’t really noticed how badly he was doing in his game until suddenly, the words ‘Game Over’ appeared in huge letters on the screen.

“Gah!” he exclaimed as he let his console fall to the ground, his hands immediately going up to cover his face as he threw his head back, “Dammit…”

As your eyes went down from the game console on the ground, then back up to Levi, you were suddenly stopped in your tracks by a noticeable tent in his pants. You could feel your face flush a little at the realization that you must’ve been the cause, but to say it wasn’t a little flattering would’ve been a lie.

“Levi…?” you started, a playful tone in your voice as an uncontrollable smirk spread across your lips. You knew it would embarrass him to point it out, but could you really pass up the opportunity to have a little fun with him? “Could this be why you lost your game?” you giggled as you gently poked at his bulge.

“EEK!” he squealed as he scrambled to find something to cover himself, avoiding eye contact with you once he did, “I-it was all your fault…”

“Oh was it? I’m sorry, Levi… want me to fix it?”

“F-fix it...??!”

“Mhm.”

*nose bleed, hyperventilates, dies*

(Word Count: 508)

“Satan,” you called softly, finding him sitting on one of the sofas in the library reading a book.

“Oh, hi,” he greeted with a smile, gesturing for you to sit with him, “How’d you know I was here?”

“Where else? We don’t have classes right now, but you weren’t in your room… I figured you must have your nose in a book though, and what’s the one place full of books besides your room?”

“Ah, I see. So you’re good at logical reasoning.”

“Of course, I learned from the best!” you smiled, nudging him suggestively. “Watcha reading anyways?” you asked before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Just a book about humans… it’s possible that a certain human may have sparked a deeper interest in my knowledge of them…”

“A certain human you say?! Are you talking about… Solomon?”

“Are you really making me state the obvious?” he whined as he shook his head at you.

“Alright fine, I won’t,” you giggled before pressing a kiss to his cheek, “By the end of that book, you’ll probably know more about humans than me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well… I was never really a good student...”

“Really? You seem to be doing well in your classes here.”

“Maybe that’s because... I’ve taken a liking to demons.”

“Is that so?” Satan chuckled, putting his book down for a moment to flirt back with you.

“Mhm… or maybe a certain demon,” you smirked as you pressed your lips against his. He didn’t let the kiss last long, smiling at you lovingly as he pulled away and holding his book back up to his face, “Are you gonna let me finish reading now?”

“Hmm… we’ll see…” 

Shifting yourself slightly away from him, you positioned yourself in a way that you could rest your head in his lap. Once you’d made yourself comfortable, you looked up at him, finding that he was already looking at you, his cheeks flushing as he awkwardly broke eye contact with you and reverted his focus back to the book. You giggled at how embarrassed you were making him, continuing to gaze up at him while he read.

“Stop staring at me…” Satan stated as he shifted slightly in his seat.

“I can’t stare at my boyfriend?”

“You’re distracting me.”

“I didn’t necessarily agree to letting you finish your reading.”

“Ergh…” he growled in frustration, thinking he should just try harder to ignore you.

“By the way, your lap is becoming oddly uncomfortable,” you teased, feeling his stiffening bulge pressing up against the back of your head as you continuously squirmed around in his lap.

“Maybe you should stop moving around so much then…”

“Maybe you should stop reading.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally complied, quickly shutting his book and placing it on the small table in front of him, “I suppose the best way to learn about humans is from the humans themselves.”

“Are you suggesting… Solomon should give you a lesson about humans?”

“At this rate, I’ll be giving you a lesson about demons instead.”

[spencers-renaissance]

A Christmas Like This

Summary: Spencer has a very specific plan for their first Christmas in their new house, and it has to be absolutely perfect. Derek's going to do everything in his power to make his boyfriend as happy as possible, even if that means a house covered in garlands and a tree covered in animal skeletons...

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, christmas fic, est relationship, snow, slow dancing, bathing together, sharing clothes, cuddling, neurodivergence, so much romance

Pairing: Derek x Spencer

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Spencer’s been impatiently counting down the days, much to Derek’s amusement, but the day is finally here: they’re decorating their house for Christmas. It feels particularly special this year because it’s their first year in the house Derek had painstakingly renovated and then surprised him with one random evening, and Spencer’s spent weeks thinking about how to make it just right, because it needs to be absolutely perfect and he simply won’t settle for anything less.

Which is how he finds himself anxiously pacing the living room, waiting for his boyfriend to return. He’d popped out earlier in the afternoon to pick up some last minute decorations at Spencer’s behest, but a flurry of snow had started to fall since, and Derek was taking a bit too long for his liking. He worries his lip as he tries to remember how wrapped up his boyfriend was and why on earth he walked into town and didn’t take the car. 

Eventually, though, he’s appeased as Derek bursts through the front door, bringing a gust of wind and a small dusting of snow in with him. “Didn’t quite expect that,” he chuckles as Spencer rushes to greet him and help him out of his soaked through coat. “Got the decorations you wanted, though.”

Spencer grins at his jovial attitude and leans up to plant a firm kiss on his lips. “That’s because you’re amazing,” he murmurs, pulling away only marginally before kissing him again. 

“Baby if that’s the greeting I get when I bring you goodies, I’m gonna spoil you rotten,” Derek says amusedly as he runs his cold hands up the sides of Spencer’s jumper, smiling at him fondly. 

“You already do,” he protests, pulling away from his hold and snatching the bag Derek’s holding to eagerly peer inside. “This is going to look incredible.” He looks back at Derek with excitement lighting up his eyes and he’s rewarded with a gentle kiss on the nose. 

“You are too damn adorable, you know that?”

“So you tell me,” Spencer says, his turn to look amused for a moment before snapping into action. “Right, we should get started!”

“Whoa, I hate to burst your bubble, pretty boy, but I’m soaked to the skin,” Derek says, following Spencer into the kitchen as he watches him empty all the bags and survey the decorations with analytical eyes. “I’m gonna take a bath first. Care to join me?” 

Spencer’s head snaps up at that. “What if it stops snowing while we’re in the bath?”

Derek shoots him a puzzled look. “Why… would that matter?”

“It’s perfect weather to put up the Christmas decorations while it’s snowing!” Spencer says, like it’s obvious. 

“Well,” Derek says diplomatically, “then the snow will have settled and you’ll actually be able to see the picturesque scenery without having to peer through a white haze.” It’s a pretty good answer. He’s got much better at it in the seven years they’ve been together.

Spencer pauses to think it over carefully. “You’re right,” he decides eventually, setting down the garland he was expecting and walking over to Derek. “You make us some hot chocolate and I’ll set it up.” He kisses him again before running up the stairs to the bathroom, making it as cosy as possible with candles and bath salts and bubbles. 

Derek’s only a few minutes behind him and the bath is almost full by the time he gets there, Spencer’s sitting submerged in the water as he concentrates on the taps, diligently adjusting the temperature every thirty seconds or so to get it just right. “Sorry to interrupt your tap watching,” he says, smile evident in his voice evn to Spencer as he refuses to look away from the flow of water.

He sets the hot chocolates down on the edge of the bathtub and strips off quickly, feeling the sweet relief at having the cold, damp clothing finally off his body. “Scooch up,” he tells Spencer, intending to squeeze in behind him. If nothing else, it finally manages to snatch his boyfriend’s attention from the taps. 

“No, Derek, I’m too big,” Spencer whines, as he always does when they bathe together. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart,” Derek says, as he always replies to his boyfriend’s ridiculous argument. “We always manage to fit. Come on.” He finally gets Spencer to slide forwards a little, turning the water off at the same time, and he slides into the bath behind him. It takes them a few moments to get properly comfortable and Spencer almost elbows both mugs off the side of the bath at one point, but they finally settle into one another. 

Derek’s chest is cool against Spencer’s back but his skin soon warms as the contact with Spencer’s flush body and the hot water make themselves at home, nestling against him. “This is just what I needed,” Derek sighs as he sips his hot chocolate and settles further into the bath. “My baby in the bath with me and a nice warm drink.” 

Spencer blushes, as he always does. Not even seven years of relentless flirting and nicknames could drive out his instinctive reaction to praise, but he also knows Derek likes it. It’s funny to think how much they’ve changed over the last few years, how when they got together back on a case in Michigan in 2009, they would be here in their own house in 2016. Spencer’s filled out and isn’t the skinny little thing Derek fell in love with anymore, not that either of them mind, and Derek -- hardened from the many years of being in the FBI -- had told Spencer his plans to retire a few months ago. 

Everything around them has continued to mutate, their circumstances, surroundings, physical appearances, but they still love each other just as much as they have done for all these years. Relentlessly, consistently, unfailingly. 

Spencer heads straight for Derek’s drawers as soon as they get out of the bath, dressing himself in one of the warmest hoodies he can find. “What if I wanted to wear that?” Derek teases as he grabs a sweatshirt for himself. 

“Oh, please,” Spencer scoffs. “You’re not fooling anyone, Derek, I know you love seeing me in your clothes. You’d rather me wear it than you”

Derek grins widely, pulling the sweater over his head before wrapping Spencer in a close hug, softening when he feels him nestle his face into his neck. “You got me, I do love seeing my gorgeous boy in my clothes,” Derek admits, “but who could blame me?”

Spencer leans back slightly, still pressed against Derek and kisses him softly. “I love you,” he murmurs, and it’s almost shy in its naked vulnerability. 

“I love you more,” Derek insists, kissing him again and giving him one last squeeze before putting some space between them. “But I believe we have a house to decorate Dr Reid?” 

Spencer’s face lights up at that, and he hurries to pull on some PJ bottoms and a pair of odd socks on before grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him downstairs. “I wrote it down because I need you to adhere to these very strict instructions,” Spencer says seriously, despite Derek’s small amused smile.

“Yes sir,” he says as he takes the paper, but he corrects himself at Spencer’s stern look. “I will follow it to the letter, baby, don’t worry.” Conceding is definitely worth the bright smile he gets in return. 

Spencer plays his specially curated Christmas playlist over the house speaker system as they get to work pinning the garlands and fairy lights and decorations handsewn by Penelope in their designated spots according to Spencer’s plan. Derek thinks it rather looks like Christmas has vomited over their house by the time they head to the tree, but his boyfriend looks so pleased with himself, and for the past seven years his own joy has followed one simple law: if Spencer’s happy, he’s happy. 

There’s just one tiny problem with that stipulation: he’s not sure he can quite stomach the ornaments Spencer’s chosen for the tree. “Spencer, baby, you know I love you,” he says slowly as he watches his boyfriend carefully unbox the decorations, “but we are not putting those on the tree.”

He’s somehow managed to find ornaments in the shape of animal skeletons, and he wants to decorate their Christmas tree with them. Derek feels a little lost. 

“But they’re anatomically correct animal skeletons ranging from a cricket’s exoskeleton to the bones of a horse,” Spencer protests, as if that will change Derek’s mind. 

“Exactly,” he replies. “The whole house is beautifully decorated with garlands and lights and colours and wreaths and you want to hang skeletons on the tree? The most important part of the Christmas decoration process?” 

“Yes,” Spencer says slowly, “I want to hang skeletons on the tree because it’s the most important part of the Christmas decoration process.”

Derek takes a deep breath in. “Okay, how about we put some fairy lights and tinsel on, hang some normal baubles and then you can put some of your skeletons on there, too?” It’s a compromise. He’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of staring at bones on his Christmas tree, but at least there’s a little bit of tradition mixed in there, too. 

Spencer’s a lot less uncompromising than he used to be, so after a few seconds and a sigh he coalesces. “Alright,” he agrees, “but I get to hang at least eight skeletons. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Derek sighs, smiling slightly at the absurdity of his boyfriend. God, he’s in love. 

With the Christmas tree hosting a small archeology exhibit among its branches and the house satisfactorily ready for the holidays, they head to the kitchen to make some dinner, both hungry from a busy day of hanging wreaths and plugging in fairy lights. And getting caught in a minor snowstorm, of course. Derek heads straight to the speaker and plugs his phone in, setting it to play Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album, needing a change of pace from the instrumental playlist they’ve been listening to all day. Spencer doesn’t complain though, he just smiles warmly at Derek, kissing him chastely before heading to the fridge to pull out the ingredients needed for a festive chicken dinner. 

“We’re making roast potatoes, right?” Derek checks as he pours them both a glass of wine, listening to the sultry voice of Frank Sinatra accompanied by Spencer’s disorganised rummage through the vegetable drawer. 

“Yep,” Spencer affirms with his head inside the fridge, eventually emerging with an armful of vegetable and meat, dumping them unceremoniously on the countertop before continuing his search through the kitchen cabinets. They’d moved into the house properly nearly five months ago, but they still haven’t figured out the best way to store food, and Derek was infamous for shoving the grocery shopping in the first cabinet he sees, leading to a rather disorganised system. 

He soon finds the right spices and cupboard ingredients for the traybake they’d made countless times before. Derek hands him the glass of wine as soon as he comes to stand next to him again, cradling his cheek with his hand, stroking his thumb over the ruddy flush on Spencer’s cheek. “I love you,” he says gently, looking deep into the warm honey of his eyes and leaning in for a soft kiss. 

Spencer’s blushing even more by the time he pulls back, and Derek can’t help but smile at the bashful nature of his boyfriend even after all these years. “I love you more,” Spencer promises, hand running gently down Derek’s muscled arm, appreciating the soft touch of the sweatshirt he’d pulled on earlier. 

“Not possible,” Derek grins, punctuating his words with another kiss to Spencer’s lips.

“Stop,” Spencer protests, wiggling out of his hold and turning to the food. “Stop being sappy. We have dinner to make.”

“Very important business,” Derek agrees, but acts the perfect sous chef as Spencer takes care of the vegetables and trimmings and puts him in charge of the chicken. They work quickly and the traybake is in the oven before they know it, leaving them sipping their wine as they lean against the counter, chatting idly. 

That is, until I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm starts playing, bright music filling the kitchen as Derek sets his wine glass down, taking Spencer’s from his hand and setting it next to his before he takes his hand and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen.

“What are you doing, Derek?” Spencer giggles as Derek pulls him close and twirls him around the kitchen. 

“Shh. We’re dancing,” he whispers, smiling fondly at Spencer’s unabashed happiness. He told himself at the very beginning of their relationship that this was all he really needed to achieve in life; making Spencer happy would forever be enough for him. 

Off with my overcoat, off with my glove

Who needs an overcoat? I'm burning with love

Derek dips Spencer down, making him throw his head back in laughter. He holds him there for a second before lifting him back up and kissing him quickly before returning to a comfortable swaying movement, keeping them in time with the uptempo music. He sings along quietly as they look deep into one another’s eyes, continuing to dance around the dimly lit, decked out kitchen. 

What do I care how much it may storm?

I’ve got my love to keep me warm

As soon as they pause their dance, Spencer leans in and kisses him, hand moving from his shoulder to the side of his neck as he holds him closer. Derek kisses back just as eagerly as the music switches to the next song, deepening the kiss as he holds Spencer’s waist, caressing his sides gently, savouring the weight of his favourite person pressed up against him in the warmth of the kitchen. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this exact moment,” Spencer whispers earnestly as they pull away.

“Not even when I took you to Bali?” Derek teases, smiling fondly at the joy in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“Shut up,” Spencer admonishes, but he’s smiling too when he leans back in for another kiss. 

They eat their dinner together on the sofa. The Christmas lights are twinkling on the tree in the corner of the living room and the decorations Penelope had gifted them brighten the whole room; Derek has to admit that despite the animal skeletons, the house looks beautiful. He’s not sure he could possibly feel more cosy than he is right now, tucking into a delicious traybake, cuddled up next to Spencer while Love Actually plays on the TV. 

As soon as their plates are cleared, Spencer predictably cuddles even closer, folding his body into the contours of Derek’s as they watch the intertwining stories of the film. It’s not long before they’re both tearing up at the emotional narrative, sharing a box of tissues between them. Usually it’s Derek who cries at the films they watch, but this particular one seems to be getting to Spencer more than normal: the love between Sarah and her mentally ill brother, Michael, has Spencer stifling sobs as he thinks about his mother. 

“Come here, baby,” Derek whispers, fairly tearful himself. He gently guides Spencer to lay down on the sofa with his head in Derek’s lap, and he cards his fingers through the curls he loves so much as they watch the rest of the film play out. 

As the credits start to roll, Spencer sits up properly, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder. “That was a bit intense,” he chuckles.

“Have you seen it before?” 

“No, Penelope just recommended it to me,” Spencer replies, sniffling again.

“I can’t count the amount of times she’s forced me to sit through it,” Derek laughs. “I cry every time, to be honest.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, he just takes one of Derek’s hands sitting in his lap and fiddles gently with his fingers, tracing the outline, the veins, the contour. It’s a comforting little motion for both of them, a point of connection, something to focus on, shrinking the world that sometimes feels so big down to just two hands, one tracing the other. 

“Come on, baby,” Derek says after a few minutes, “let’s get up to bed.”

“I’m not tired yet,” he protests quietly, snuggling further into Derek’s side.

“Well you can read in bed,” Derek points out. “But I want to sleep. I’m not the young man I once was, you know.”

Spencer cranes his head up to meet Derek’s eyes. “You’re even sexier now,” Spencer says, and it’s so random that Derek can’t help the bark of laughter it elicits. 

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” he grins. 

“You didn’t call me baby,” Spencer pouts, rotating his body so he’s straddling Derek’s lap.

“I’m very sorry,” Derek says mock-sincerely, lifting a hand to brush a stray curl from Spencer’s forehead. “How can I make it up to you?”

“A letter of apology to management,” Spencer suggests.  

“Management being you, I’m guessing?” Derek smiles as he hums in affirmation. “Come on you, let’s head up to bed.”

Spencer grumbles the whole way about old men and going to sleep before 11pm, but it only serves to make Derek smile fondly, kissing him to shut him up as soon as they walk into the bedroom. They’re soon tucked up in bed, Christmas candles burning as fairy lights glow along their journey around the coving. Spencer starts on his new book, lit up dimly by the cosy lighting of the room,  while Derek settles down to sleep.

He can’t believe he has a Christmas like this to look forward to for the rest of his life.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728 

[crystal-suau]

Chapter 24

“That’s the baseball field! Oh! And that's the greenhouse!” Peridot exclaimed as she ran Crystal across the main area of Little Homeworld. “And just past those bushes is Bismuth’s blacksmith place!”

Crystal turned to Bismuth with her eyes wide with amazement. “You’re a blacksmith?!”

“Best there is!”

“Oh my gosh that's so cool!” Crystal squealed.

Bismuth laughed. “Yeah, it kinda is. All of us have our own little place. Peridot has her plants, and Lapis has an art studio just down the way.”

Lapis started to blush with embarrassment while Crystal looked at them awestruckenly.

Celeste, who was watching from a couple yards away, chuckled at the girl’s excitement. “Yo Crys,” she called. “If you really wanna learn somethin’, the museum is the place to go.”

Peridot perked up at the mention of the museum and started jumping around like a child while Lapis and Bismuth shook their heads and smiled.

Crystal, however, was confused. “Museum?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but there wasn’t anything about that in the pamphlet..?”

Lapis glanced at the pamphlet in Crystal's hands. “Makes sense… That’s a pretty old one, and the museum is newer.”

“C’mon Crys!” Peridot shouted as she grabbed hold of Crystal's wrist. “You gotta see this!”

Before she could even comprehend what was going on, Peridot started dragging Crystal across the path towards a lilac building a couple hundred feet away. The group laughed at Crystal's startled expression and chased after Peridot.

When they eventually got there, Crystal was exhausted. Peridot though, being so full of energy, was jumping up and down in place with her hands clasped at her chest and a wide smile across her face.

“Welcome to the Universe Museum!” she announced proudly.

“Universe... Museum?” Crystal said quietly upon hearing her last name.

“It was named after a friend of ours,” the grey gem said calmly with a remembering smile on her face. “Steven Quartz Universe.”

Lapis had the same nostalgic smile. “You’ll learn more about him inside. He's a bit of a celebrity around here.”

Crystal didn’t fully know how to respond. Her curiosity and excitement were still boiling within her, but now, there was a sense of apprehension along with it. All the secrets hidden from her were about to be unveiled, and she had no idea whether it would be for the good or the worse.

“You good, Sparkle?” Celeste asked concernedly.

Crystal snapped out of it and smiled. “Yeah!” she said with a nervous chuckle. “Just awestruck…”

Celeste picked up the nervous tone, but decided not to bring it up.

“You haven’t even seen the inside!! Lets go!” Peridot, who was quite oblivious to Crystal’s current state, yelled as she grabbed Crystal’s wrists again and dragged her though the big iridescent doors of the museum.

The inside was spacious and bright with the help of the open skylights and pale marble floor. The walls were a light periwinkle and were lined with white and gold pillars, and on the ceiling were stars of several different sizes.

“Woah.”

“You should see the look on your face!” Celeste snorted.

Lapis smirked. “I was about to say the same thing.”

Peridot was practically bouncing off the walls. “Isn’t it amazing?!”

“Peri…” Bismuth sighed. “Why don’t we relax a bit and let Crys look around on her own for a sec.”

The small gem followed orders and stopped bouncing, her smile though, didn’t diminish.

“They’ve got everything here for you Crys,” Celeste said as she turned her gaze from up towards the ceiling to the girl at her left. “Anythin’ you want. They got some info on it.”

It took a good minute for Crystal to nod her head in understanding. She looked absolutely dumbfounded and amazed at the beautiful sight around her.

“Yeah, it’s definitely cool, but we can’t really stand here in the entrance forever…” Lapis said, growing slightly impatient.

“If you want to start Crys, the exhibit starts right through that hallway,” Bismuth told Crystal while pointing towards another set of iridescent doors. She chose to ignore Lapis’ rude tone. “No rush though. It’s very pretty here. And I should now… I helped build it! That being said, I understand if you wanna stay for a bit.”

Crystal looked to the doors and took a deep breath. The anxiety came over her again, but she knew that this could be her only shot to find out what her parents were keeping from her. And even besides that, her pure sense of curiosity was starting to eat her from within.

“No, it’s ok. I’m eager to learn!” she said with a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

[astyle-alex]

[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Museum Mishap  |  Chapter 5/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

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Museum Mishap Chapter 5: Checking Up

     Dick is the first to notice something’s different about Jason.

           Which is fair, because even though Bruce is the first person to see Jason after he wakes up on Saturday, a full 27 hours after being rescued from Sabini (ten of which he’d spent sleeping peacefully in his own bed instead of the Cave’s infirmary) – and even though Alfred is the first person to talk to him after he comes downstairs for breakfast – the bulk of what is actually noticeably different about Jason is aimed directly at Dick.

           Literally.

           Because Jason is starting.

           At Dick.

           From across his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast piled high with strawberry preserves instead of the peach marmalade Dick likes and has on his own plate, Jason is staring. At Dick. Directly.

           He’s not even glaring at him, he’s just… watching.

           Which actually makes Dick more self-conscious than if Jason had been glaring, makes him think he’s done something wrong. Something especially wrong.

           Dick had never asked for a little brother, and to be perfectly honest he could admit that he hadn’t exactly been very nice to the one he’d acquired unexpectedly. While he had concrete and valid reasons to be pissed at Bruce for how he’d handled things, Dick wasn’t quite self-centered enough to miss how he hadn’t done right by Jason either.

           He’d screwed up their relationship in the beginning and now he spent most of his time trying to avoid making it worse. Which meant most simply that he spent most of his time straight up avoiding it…

           The longest span of time Dick had spent alone in a room with Jason since storming off to California a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday – to go be Robin with people who appreciated him and his skill and his right to wear the R, because it was his and always would be – was about the length of a Star Wars movie. The longest they’d spent together without such a specific and effective distraction was about twenty minutes.

           In which Alfred usually checked in on them halfway through.

           Because Jason does deserve the R.

           And he’s always resented that the older brother he’d never asked for thought he didn’t.

           Which isn’t exactly true, but Dick has never been able to explain that before Jason – brilliantly observant, woefully astute, and brutally willing to cut to the quick as he was – said something that made Dick get defensive. Which is when the yelling always started.

           And the quiet moments in between the yelling had always been punctuated by glaring.

           But now Jason is staring – and distinctly not glaring – and Dick doesn’t know what he did, or what he should do now. So, he sits in silence and plays with his eggs and worries.

           Because something is different about Jason this morning, and he doesn’t know why – or what it has to do with him. Or what Jason thinks it has to do with him.

           Because if Jason’s pissed with him for not getting to him quicker last night, for not jumping in earlier – early enough to stop Sabini from breaking his leg perhaps – then Jason would already be yelling. But he’s not. He’s staring.

           And Dick doesn’t know what to do.

           “Do you have a driver’s license?”

           Dick is so startled by the question he nearly drops his fork.

           Actually, he does drop it. He just manages to catch it before it skitters off the counter.

           “B won’t let me in the Cave with my leg and Alf won’t let me have the keys to any cars topside until I’m legal,” Jason explains – without explaining anything.

           “Yeah, I’ve got my license.”

           Dicks voice doesn’t squeak or waver. He’s moderately certain that some sort of magic or robotic voice replacement tech is behind the phenomenon. Or maybe his Robin conditioning is finally proving useful outside of the dark allies where his calm could comfort victims.

           Jason nods. He’s still staring.

           But now he’s squinting, evaluative. Not quite a glare, but closer.

           “Cool. Can you drive me somewhere after breakfast?”

           Dick nods. He decides not to ask to ask why Jason isn’t asking Alfred to drive him.

           He also decides not to ask where Jason wants to go until they’re already in the car.

           They don’t speak again until after Dick pulls into the circle at the end of the Drake Estate’s mile-long driveway, and even then, it’s just a gruff C’mon to hurry Dick along while Jason hauls himself out of the car on his own.

           Dick is slightly distracted as he cuts the engine. He nods to Jason – who’s paying him zero attention – as he marvels openly at the fact that they do, apparently, have neighbors.

           The Drake mansion isn’t quite a massive or effortlessly grand as Wayne Manor, but it’s a decently imposing imitation. There’s wealth here, excess. And no hint of the soft touch that Alfred has to bring a human element into the aching chill of life with money.

           Dick wants to ask what they’re doing here, of all places, but Jason is focused.

           It’s a feat for Jason to wrestle his crutches out of the car and limp his way up the wide steps of the ostentation front stair, but he manages. He does it without even making Dick feel terrible about not offering to help – though he knows if he did offer, Jason’s only response would be to curse and try to whack him with the pointy end of his crutches.

           Dick follows silently up the stairs after him and waits as Jason rings the doorbell impatiently, pressing it again after only a few seconds of silence.

           He’s not quite scowling at the Drakes’ front door, but he’s not smiling either. Whatever he’s thinking about is serious enough to warrant asking Dick for help instead of Alfred. Dick is definitely concerned by that, but there a hopeful anxiousness twisting in him too.

           Because Jason needed help, and he asked Dick to provide it.

           It’s not much, but it’s something.

           Jason’s leaning on the doorbell again when Dick hears a shuffling inside that indicates someone coming to check the matter. Dick hopes it’s not an elderly butler – Alfred moves around pretty well for his age, but it’s a big house and it takes even him a minute to get to the door on the bizarre occasion Wayne Manor has unexpected security-approved visitors.

           The Drakes’ equivalent can’t possibly be as light-footed or quick and Dick wants to tell Jason that it’s not whoever’s fault that it takes a while getting from one end of a mansion to the other on a Saturday morning for an unanticipated guest.

           There’s the sound of the lock being turned, but the door doesn’t open immediately.

           Jason is about to lean on the bell again – and Dick is seriously considering how counter-productive it will be to stop him from being overly rude – when the knob finally spins and the massive solid-wood structure sweeps inward.

           Dick plasters a smile on his face and –        

           It’s the kid from Thursday night.

           Dick’s whole being freezes.

           It’s the kid that took a beating because Sabini thought he knew something about Batman.

           Dick is stuck in a sudden mental rut of wondering why this kid – and Dick know he’s a tough one, he’s seen it, but he’s a head shorter than Jason and probably weighs as much as Dick’s leg and he’s just survived a torturous kidnapping and should be on bedrest with soup and blankets and stuffed animals – why this kid is answering his own door.

           Especially in a house like this. His family is clearly rich beyond reason and could have a flurry of staff to care for the household’s daily needs and to fawn sweetly over the poor injured young master. So why is he answering the door?

           When his door costs as much as the entire Trailer the Flying Graysons called home in Haly’s Circus. When there are still bruises on his face where Sabini’s fingers gripped him that haven’t quite gone ugly and greenish from healing. When the butterfly bandage on his cheek is still the only thing holding the skin together beneath the antiseptic goo.

           Jason’s brain is clearly doing the same acrobatics as Dicks, asking questions it’s not really keen on getting answered because the answers can’t be good, but Jason recovers faster.

           Which is good because the Drake boy – Timmy, Dick remembers, except no, that’s just what Jason called him, he introduced himself as Tim in his brief moment of lucidity on Friday morning – is looking between the pair on his doorstep like one of the rescue dogs Dick remembers Haly bringing into the circus fold on their first days of being treated well.

           They were cautious and skittish and quick to shy away, but also a little bit awed by the care and attention being paid to them – slightly overwhelmed to say the least. And Tim Drake is clearly in a similar state of mind.

           Dick is frozen on the doorstep.

           Tim is frozen in the doorway.

           Jason falters too, but only for a moment. Then he’s using his crutches to nudge Tim out of the way, so he can swing himself through the door and into the Drakes’ imposing foyer.

           Dick follows.

           Tim remembers to close the door – and lock it too, with a sturdy deadbolt that Dick knows will provide actual security – and then shuffles after Dick and Jason.

           Silent on his feet – impressive, given the floppy sneakers he’s wearing – Tim allows Jason to lead the way through the mansion’s sprawl to its kitchen. Tim is watching Jason’s back as he swings forward on his crutches, which gives Dick time to look around the mansion as they walk. He knows Jason’s scoping the place out too, and he’s glad Jason can manage it with that subtle street-wise skill he’s got ingrained. Dick could probably be subtle – he was trained by Batman – but he’s finding it hard to rein in the reaction he’s having to the place.

           It’s absolutely sterile here.

           More like a museum than like a house.

           Nothing looks soft, or like it’s meant for people to sit on, and the few chairs and cushions Dick has clocked as they move through the sprawl don’t look like anyone has ever used them. There’s not a speck of dust, but honestly that just makes it worse. There are people that come through here, in order to clean it at least, but nobody lives here.

           “What’re you saying about your face,” Jason asks bluntly when he stumbles upon the masterwork that is the Drake kitchen. Dick can tell that finding the kitchen has help Jason relax a little, that being in a place that’s meant to be sterile has helped at least as much as the prospect of diving into the soothing rhythm of cooking, but Tim doesn’t pick up on Jason’s new degree of ease and relax himself. If anything, he tenses more.

           “I’m going to say that I tried to launch a rocket in the back yard and it blew up in my face,” Tim explains. He watches as Jason moves to investigate his fridge.

           He notes when Jason stiffens, flinches as he realizes what he just said to prompt it, and he whips his head around when Dick is the one to speak up about it. “You’re ‘going to say’?”

           Dick knows the way he blurted it in aching disbelief is rude. Not calm. Not helpful.

           But he’s lost sensation in his limbs and his stomach is still sinking towards the center of the earth at supersonic speeds.

           They had dropped Tim back into his bed at 2pm on Friday afternoon, once Bruce had convinced Alfred that he was stable and well on his way to healing. That was almost 20 hours ago. Dick’s stomach churns as he realizes that no one’s been to check on him in almost a full day.

           Tim survived a brutal beating, and he’s been dealing with the mental fallout of his kidnapping – not to mention the physical aspects of his recovery – entirely alone.

           Dick is staring at Tim, wide-eyed and worried, and he knows it isn’t helping as Tim looks down and toes at the marble floor.

           “Mrs. Simz doesn’t work on Fridays,” he mumbles. “She thinks I spend Friday nights with my school’s chess club.”

           Jason snorts. “Of course, she does. That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

           He pauses. Anyone but Dick probably wouldn’t be able to catch the way he steels himself and forces down a mix of rage and worry before he asks lightly, “Hey, kid, you got any flour hiding in this joint? Baking soda?”

           “Why?”

           “I’m gonna make pancakes, obviously,” Jason replies, shouldering open the fridge and pulling out milk and eggs. He spreads his haul on the island and shoots Dick a look that he hopes means that he should start investigating the Drake cabinets for mixing bowls and a griddle and such. Because that’s what Dick starts doing.

           “Pancakes?”

           “Yeah, they’re kinda like pizza – you eat them,” Jason replies, a gruff amusement in his voice that tells Dick there’s some sort of inside joke involved.

           Dick wants to think that there’s no part of the joke where he should be legitimately concerned that Tim doesn’t eat, but he also remembers how easy it was to pick the kid up when they rescued him. Sure, he’s only twelve, but Dick is fairly certain that he weighed at least twice what Tim does when he was twelve. Comparing him to Jason – even the emaciated twelve year old Jason that had first been brought to the Manor – would be too tragic to let him keep the smile on his face, so Dick consciously fights the urge.

           Tim jumps in to help direct Dick and Jason around his kitchen, Tim acting as Jason’s legs while Jason barks orders. Dick didn’t know Jason could cook, but he’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be – even when Jason whips out the fancy tricks like cracking the eggs one-handed and twirling his spatula as he times the flips perfectly.

           Butter and syrup appear on the island as Dick tries to help put the finishing touches on their meal. It’s been over an hour since breakfast, so Dick can definitely eat – and he knows Jason is probably already starving. Tim is looking at the looming stack of pancakes warily, however, and Dick is pleased with himself for not shooting Jason a worried look.

           It gets even harder to resist when they actually settle down to eat and Tim expends a painstaking amount of effort on arranging the careful stack of pancakes on his plate instead of making any move to dig in.

           “So, Timmy,” Jason says around a mouthful of pancakes, “Find any cool new toys since you’ve been home playin’ with your rocket?”

           Both confused, Dick and Tim look blankly at Jason – who rolls his eyes. Then he taps his ear and makes a wide gesture about the kitchen. He’s asking if Tim’s found any Bat bugs.

           Dick knows Batman must’ve left some – Tim was suspected of knowing his secrets for a reason, after all, and Bruce would certainly want to keep tabs on any future developments that might potentially occur. What Dick does not know is why Jason’s asking Tim if he found any listening devices hidden in his home – why he’s referencing the plausible option so casually, so openly. Unless… unless Tim knows.

           Scandalized, Tim looks between Jason and Dick – redness creeping up his neck until his ears are bright ruby – and then stares down at his pancakes. He nods.

           Like he’s pulling teeth, Jason waits a beat to make sure Tim is still alive and then asks with the same casual air, “Find any in here?”

           This time, Tim shakes his head, still staring resolutely at his pancakes – and still making no move to actually eat them.

           Jason nods, satisfied.

           Tim waits, but Jason doesn’t say anything else.

           Eventually, peeks up. Looks at Jason. Waits.

           Then he slowly, sheepishly turns his head to look at Dick. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations and yelling to start. Tim does know their secret, and he expects to be in serious trouble for it.

           Jason levels his own look at Dick, daring him to break the tenuous trust they’ve developed in the last few hours by voicing any sort chastisement.

           When they’d first brought Jason and Tim back to the Cave, Batman had been on Jason about getting to the truth of the rumors around Tim – to the point of absurdity, considering that there were two traumatized and injured kids to care for, considering that Jason himself was being questioned before Batman would give his broken leg the medical attention it needed…

           Dick had spoken up in defense of Jason – asserting his own opinion that Tim was ignorant of the secret that got him wrapped up in this mess – mostly because he was pissed at Bruce for being so callous. Dick knew that Bruce cared, that he cared so much he buried all of his feelings deep beneath an impenetrable layer of cold practicality so he could deal with the pragmatic details of resolving the situation.

           But it was really hard to remember that he cared when it felt more like he wanted answers in his own interrogation rather than to help the adopted son he’d just rescued from a drug-lord who’d been asking the same questions.

           But Dick had defended Jason’s stand against Bruce.

           At the time, he hadn’t realized Jason was lying – that Bruce honestly did have a valid reason to worry about Tim’s ability to threaten Batman’s secrets. He knew Jason wasn’t being entirely honest, but he’d brushed it off as embarrassment at getting caught and needing rescue.

           Knowing what he does now, that Tim is aware of much more than he should be, Dick isn’t certain he would’ve made the same call. On the one hand, he wants to trust his brother’s judgement – to stay focused on Tim as a victim rather than a threat – but he also feels the urge to trust his mentor’s trend of caution, because if Tim threatens Bruce’s secrets he’s also threatening Dick’s. And Jason’s. And possibly Barbara, and the Titans, and any other mask they’ve ever worked with… Tim could be very dangerous if Jason’s wrong about trusting him.

           But Tim is waiting to be yelled at – waiting to face the good guys’ wrath for simply being clever. And Dick had seen the R on Tim’s sweater. He’s a fan, and he’s been clever, and he’d taken one hell of a beating for a twelve year old kid to be expected to handle.

           And he hadn’t talked.

           It was more than Dick would’ve expected from most grown-ups. It was as much or even more than he’d expect from adults trained to withstand interrogation.

           If Dick needed proof that Tim wasn’t a threat, that was it.

           Tim was still staring at him – waiting for his anger. Waiting to be punished.

           Jason was staring too – waiting for a reason to get angry himself.

           Resolved to let Tim continue to fly under Batman’s radar, Dick doesn’t say anything. He just takes another bite of his pancakes. The bite goes down easier than he expects, validation that his gut trusts Tim on a level beyond instinctual. Something more like kinship.

           Tim keeps staring – like he doesn’t quite recognize what it means that Dick is just going on with eating like a major secret affecting both of their lives hasn’t just been exposed – but Jason relaxes. He even flashes Dick what could pass for a smile.

           It makes Dick feel like he’s made the right decision all over again.

           He’s got very little good history with Jason, but he’s working on his own issues and he thinks that, just maybe, he and Jason can work with this – can use Tim’s hush-hush existence as a bit of common ground to try standing by each other instead of against each other.

           Tim is still staring, though.

           Still waiting, still worried, still convinced that he’s in trouble.

           “Pancakes not to your liking, Tim?” Dick asks, flashing him a grin. It’s not the dazzling, thousand-watt smile that’s always made him shine as a media darling, but it’s still bright and teasing enough to startle Tim. And genuine.

           Jason growls before Tim recovers, retorting, “Hey, my pancakes are fantastic, asshole.”

           Dick gives a shrug, his smiling building as he feels out Jason’s grumble and realizes that there’s almost no real malice in it – none of the gritty defensiveness he’s used to from Jason.

           “They’re, um, great,” Tim replies in a squeak.

           With another snort, Jason says, “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

           He reaches across the island and swoops a smear of butter onto Tim’s topmost pancake, giving the terrified youngster a mild heart attack. He pushes the syrup across the table with his fork – it’s good stuff, real maple in a ceramic jug – until it clicks pointedly against Tim’s plate.

           “Eat.”

           Tim picks up his fork, obedient but still anxious and pushes a few bites around before he finally picks one up and forces it into his mouth and down his throat.

           Watching as Tim swallows and waiting until it looks like he might take another bite of his own volition, Jason says, “You gotta relax, Timmers. We’re the frickin good guys.”

           Dick gives a supportive smile as Tim forces himself to nod.

           His eyes jump guiltily to Dick for a moment but then he settles and takes another bite of his pancakes. This time he looks much less like he wants to throw the food back up immediately.

           “How’s, um, how’s your leg,” Tim asks. Guilty, which makes Dick’s lungs tighten, but at least he’s speaking up – which means he might be able to be convinced he’s not at fault.

           “It’s good,” Jason replies with a shrug. “I’ve gotta stay off it completely for the next week, and I’m benched for the next three, at least, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

           Dick snorts. “You’re supposed to stay off it for three weeks,” Dick counters automatically. He lets himself fall into older-brother over-dive to add, “And B wants to keep you benched for the next two months. Alf might actually put you in a coma if he sees you trying to go down to the Cave before the cast comes off.”

           With a shrug, Jason says, “So like two weeks and we call it even.”

           Dick tries to claw back the sigh that’s threatening to cut off all his air.

           “It was a pretty bad break,” Tim pipes up. He looks slightly guilt-ridden, but he forges on to add, “But it was direct contact to the bone, instead of to a joint, and I’m guessing it was a stable, simple tibia fracture – no skin penetration or muscle tears – and it was either transverse or very slightly oblique, so it should heal cleanly.”

           “Not if he bungs it up by trying to do cartwheels on it too quickly,” Dick counters.

           “I’m gonna leave the cartwheeling to you, Dickiebird,” Jason replies with a chuckle that’s warm and teasing and so much nicer than the conversations he’s used to having with Jason.

           It almost sounds like they’re just talking about your average sports injury, and Tim even joins in a few more times as the discussion shifts to Dick and his penchant for cartwheeling down the long halls of Wayne Manor. Tim’s a fan of the Flying Graysons, and after a little figuring, Dick actually remembers meeting him before – before the show for a picture and a hug and a somersault promise, before Zucco, before his parents fell… before life got so complicated.

           Dick and Jason and Tim stay gathered around the island in the Drakes’ kitchen until Tim has completely finished his plate of pancakes without needing to have Jason force him through each bite. And they stay an hour after they’ve cleaned up, and an hour after that too.

           They stay until Alfred sends Dick a text to warn him that Bruce is getting antsy with their absence, antsy enough to start wondering where they’ve gone.

           Tim looks sad as they start gearing up to head back to the Manor, but Jason assures him that they’ll be back tomorrow – and after school on Monday, assuming Tim actually goes to school on Monday. Neither vigilante would blame him if he wanted to take a day off.

           “Why?”

           “Because you got beat up by a drug-lord,” Jason told him with a gruff, but affectionate exasperation Dick can hardly believe he’s hearing from the ill-tempered teenager, “That totally warrants a fucking vacation day or two.”

           Tim shakes his head. “No, I mean why are you gonna come here? Why’re you here at all, if I’m not in trouble for… you know.” He mumbles through most of the words, falling back into the timid little thing he was when he first saw Dick and Jason standing at his door.

           It’s only now that Dick realizes how much he’d managed to come out of that shell.

           “We’re checking up on you, baby bird,” Jason huffs, “Duh.”

           “But why?”

           Tim stands there like the question is perfectly innocent, like it’s not one of the most heartbreaking thing Dick has ever been asked.

           If Jason didn’t have a broken leg and crutches to wrestle with, Dick is sure that Tim would be trapped under Jason’s arm getting his hair mussed beyond all possible repair. As it stands, Jason looks halfway to smacking Tim with one of his crutches.

           Or smacking whoever made him feel like his current state of being is somehow one that is in any way an acceptable situation for a child.

           But Dick smiles and slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

           “Because we’re Robins,” he says, promising, “And that’s what we do.”

           There’s a pause.

           And then Tim nods, smiling back in a way that makes Dick’s limbs feel gooey as he goes all warm and fuzzy. He can feel Jason lean into his side, can see that he’s smiling too – not as broadly as Dick is, but the expression is just as genuine. A bit surprised, perhaps, but happy.

           The door closes behind them and Jason clambers into his side of the car without beating Dick with his crutches for helping. The drive back to the Manor is just as quick as the one away from it this morning, but not as quiet.

           The Robins get themselves on a united platform about having gone to visit Drake as civilians – he’d recognized Jason as a Wayne and they’d gone to commiserate with Jason as a fellow victim of random, rumor fueled violence. They explain again to Bruce that Tim doesn’t know anything about Batman and latch onto Alfred’s concern that the boy’s parents are still out of the country. The Robins volunteer to go over and check on him tomorrow.

           At Alfred’s insistence, they agree to spend most of the day there, and several days next week – and bring over some of Alfred’s amazing, high-nutrition cooking.

           With all three of them set against Bruce in this, he relents to giving full approval to their plan – assuming that Nightwing patrols with Batman for the next three weeks while Robin remains obediently on bedrest.

           The butler sides with Bruce on that one, but he gives the boys a wink behind Bruce’s back and it makes Dick get that warm and fuzzy glow again.

           He’s halfway giddy all through that night’s patrol.

           Batman notices.

           But Dick doesn’t explain when he’s asked about it.

           He just says that he and Jason are finally seeing eye to eye about what it means to hero in Gotham, to be Robin… to be a good Robin.

           He smiles into the sunrise after a long night of beating up petty thugs on Gotham’s street corners – of looking into and utterly quashing any remaining rumors that Timothy Drake has any information on Batman. And maybe the throws a few extra flips into the maneuvers that carry him from rooftop to rooftop of Gotham’s city skyline.

           It’s a beautiful day and Dick resolves to make the most of the chances he’s been given – however unfortunate the circumstances around them. The world is already a slightly better place, and Dick is determined to make it more so, bit by bit.

           Because we’re Robins. And that’s what we do.

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[stillness-in-green]

Salt-Sweet Curse (4/?)

The backstory doesn’t drop, but the other shoe certainly does.  

(More Mermaid AU for @codenamesazanka and anybody else who’s enjoying it, as I most certainly am.)

“So what’s at this exhibit, anyway?”

“You could have asked me that before you ran off.”

“A chance to get clean’s more exciting than a museum exhibit.  Now your other arm,” Toga instructed with a grin.  She’d returned from her excursion with a sack full of cosmetics and towels, and despite his initial reluctance, had demonstrated on her own body that the various creams and powders and oils left her totally tailless.   He’d refused to let her rub him down but consented to being toweled off, if only to get her focused on any other topic.

“I already told you it’s not at a museum.”  Shigaraki rolled his eyes and shifted positions, holding out his right arm.  She took his wrist in one hand and set to scrubbing his bare skin up and down with the intensity of a dishwasher tackling one particularly stubborn bit of dried food.  The entire room smelled of roses and allegedly-water-lilies.

They’d spent the night in a boarded-up, vacant bar and were now killing time until the afternoon.  Too early, and all the staffers would still be fresh.  Too late, and he might not get enough time to look around.  The sweet spot would be just as the bulk of classes would be letting out.

The University of Foreign Studies in Kyoto was holding a month-long exhibit on world mysticism.  Shigaraki had tried temple purifications, he’d tried reiki, he’d tried waterfall meditations and sacred salts and bloodletting and every other kind of cure and blessing Japan’s native traditions had to offer.  None had worked, and while he didn’t exactly think he was going to find a cure-all sitting under glass at a college show, at least it might give him a few new leads to follow.

Toga listened—or did a fair job of faking it—to his clipped explanation, scooting around halfway through to rub down his back.  Honestly, he had no idea if walking in smelling like a cosmetics counter was less likely to get them kicked out than just going in like he normally would, but the white cotton was definitely coming away from Toga’s fierce scouring visibly begrimed, so he couldn’t argue that he wasn’t at least cleaner.

“Can we get food after?” she asked eventually, as Shigaraki ferociously toweled dry shampoo out of his hair.  “I bet there’s all kinds of neat little places around!”

“You spent the last of your money on that takoyaki last night,” he pointed out sourly, swiping traces of white powder off his shoulders.

Toga giggled, flipping him a carefree wave.

“We’ll be wandering around a campus with a bunch of other people today!” she assured him, blithe and cheerful.  “I’ll get more.”

“If you get arrested for pickpocketing, I don’t have a way to break you out.”

That sent her into a fresh peal of laughter, as if the very idea was hysterical.  Shigaraki snorted and reached past her for his discarded hoodie, giving it a cautious sniff.  The smell of artificial lavender still clung to the fabric.  Ugh.  He was cleaner than he could remember being since the Edo period, but did it have to be so much work?

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

It took Toga less than half an hour to get bored.  She popped up in front of Shigaraki, grinning from behind a 2000 yen note, and he waved her off with a grumble of, “Don’t be gone for too long,” and went back to poring over an exhibit about Tibetan singing bowls.

In retrospect, that was probably too vague.  Their definitions of “too long” definitely wouldn’t match up—how could they?  So after another hour, when there was no sign of her having returned, Shigaraki rubbed at his head in irritation, did one last circle around the room to mentally note the different traditions, and then headed out.

It didn’t take much wandering to find the campus store.  No sign of her there, and he was not so desperate that he was going to approach the bored-looking cashier.  He filched a magazine on the way out—cellphones made it so much easier for people to miss such little acts of thievery.

Where next…?  She’d had a few sips of his cheap umeshu that morning, and it had to have run through her system by now.  He scowled, rolling up the magazine and stuffing it into one of the pockets in his hoodie.

If I have to sneak her out of here and back to the sea because she got her ass splashed by toilet bowl water…  I really will fucking scale her.

The peal of laughter cut his hunt for Toga and/or women’s bathrooms short.  That was her, all right, her voice bouncing up and off the walls of a thin walk between two buildings.  He eased out of his impatient stalk and into a lazy stroll, shoring himself up against warm brick to eavesdrop.  

Well, to attempt to eavesdrop.  Toga’s voice was chirpy enough that he could make out the odd phrase or enthusiastic declarative—“Tokyo,” “literature class,” “How cool!”—but the man accompanying her was lower-toned, speaking no words Shigaraki could parse, just warm, polite cadences and a periodic chuckle.

He let it go on until the heat beating against his black clothes had begun to draw a sweat he could smell in crests over the remnants of the morning’s floral assault.  With several minutes having passed and no sudden grunts or soft gurgling sounds seeming imminent, he gave up and turned the corner.  If he was lucky, the library here wouldn’t require a student ID and he could get some research in, but not if he just lurked around out here all afternoon.

The gap ran back most of the length of the buildings, closed off at the rear by a connecting brick wall.  Toga sat perched on an outdoor table near the back, legs swinging cheerfully beneath her.  She spotted Shigaraki as soon as he stepped into the space.  Her companion—big, broad-shouldered, dressed nice but not too nice, like he was meeting someone for a casual lunch—turned at Toga’s wave.  

“Your friend?” he queried as Toga hopped down from the table.  Shigaraki stopped halfway in, hands in his pockets, watching them.

“My friend,” Toga confirmed with a bright smile.  She all but danced up to him, hands behind her back, a small plastic bag swaying around one wrist.  “All done looking around?”

“I want to check the library,” he answered, and added with a snort, “No need to stop chattering on my account, if you think you’d get bored.”

“Rude,” she clucked, but her grin didn’t budge.  “I can find something to read.”

Shigaraki felt the weight of a stare on his face; he looked over at the man Toga’d been talking to, scowling.  What, like I’m the suspicious one here?  I might have just saved your life.

The guy didn’t look old enough to be a professor, but maybe old enough to be assisting one, with blandly handsome features and neatly trimmed hair.  The eyes were sharp, though, bright and crinkling at the edges from the calm, knowing smile on his face.

Shigaraki felt the hair on the back of his neck rise on the sudden wash of intuitive terror.  He didn’t know the face, didn’t know the voice, but he knew that smile.

No.  Fuck, no, what the fuck is he, how the fuck did he no no no—

Toga yammered something he couldn’t hear over the sudden tidal roaring in his ears.  The man walked closer, gaze unwavering.  As he closed the distance, a gust of wind twirled through the small common, kicking up swirls of stray leaves and discarded bits of paper.

On the breeze came the smell of the sea.

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

A sun-bright outdoor deck, floorboards polished to a shine.  The air stitched with the cries of gulls, lingering and distant.  A day too warm and kind for the ice running down his spine at the words that man had been saying on the other side of the paper-screen door.

“He will become the next ‘me’.”

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

Sakai-san had moved to stand between them and the exit, which Toga had honestly been expecting pretty much since she let him walk her in here to begin with.  Of course, at that point, she’d only been expecting some garden variety sexual harassment, and debating whether a good bloodletting would be worth interrupting Shigaraki’s time at the exhibit and his annoyance afterward.

But Shigaraki’s face had gone a pasty color that reminded her of mushroom flesh, or the pale grubs that clustered on the underside of fallen trees in deep forests—not comparisons she’d have been able to make just a month ago, but accurate ones all the same.  He stood rigid beside her, wide red eyes fixed on Sakai-san.

And I thought he was just wearing a nice cologne.  Silly me.

“It’s good to see you again, Tenko,” Sakai-san greeted, and everything about his expression—the kind look in his eyes, the gentle smile, the tilt of his head—said he really, truly meant it.

“That’s not my name anymore,” Shigaraki hissed, thin hands clenched at his sides.

“I’d be happy to call you by whatever the young lady does, if you prefer.”  He nodded towards Toga and, when Shigaraki didn’t respond, huffed a laugh.  “No, I didn’t think so.  Have you been keeping well?  You certainly seem in a better state than the last time I saw you.  A woman’s touch, perhaps?”

“You set the exhibit up,” Shigaraki ground out.  “How many people do you have here?”

“Now, now.  I only want to—”

Toga reached into the bag from the school store, noting the way both their gazes jumped to her, Shigaraki staring like he’d forgotten she was even there, Sakai-san—the mysterious All for One?—with a sudden cold warning on his face.  She pulled out a Kit Kat (strawberry cheesecake flavor) and made a show of peeling back the colorful plastic.  

“Don’t mind me,” she said, flapping one hand at them and taking a large bite.  Through a mouthful of wafer, she added, “You’ve got me curious!”

Shigaraki bolted—or tried to, but Probably All for One was somehow even faster, and sidestepped, catching her friend’s shoulder in a friendly-looking grip that still nearly pulled Shigaraki off his feet.  “Ah, ah.  I came to talk, Tenko.  Give me the dignity of a few minutes, at least.”  His mouth said at least, but his tone said or else.  Toga took another bite of her snack, rustling the wrapper, and this time neither of them paid her any mind.

So far, so good.  Tenko, huh?

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Shigaraki said in a hollowed-out voice.  Toga frowned to herself.  He really was scared, poor thing, his shoulders hunched into a familiar curve—the same defensive posture from that first afternoon beneath the bridge, as the rain broke and re-broke the river into dancing fragments.  Clear skies all day today, though—they’d listened to the forecast this morning on their scavenged little radio and everything.

“I’m not asking you to talk to me, am I?” All for Sakai-san countered, amused.  “Now, I’ve recently made the acquaintance of a certain doctor.  He and I have been conducting some research that I think would be of some interest to you.”  Shigaraki’s mouth twisted in the way it always did just before he was about to say something really viciously derisive; the other man rode right over it.  “This new body of mine—I didn’t come by it in the usual way.”

Toga blinked; it was an easy response, and when the man shot her a glance to gauge her reaction, it was still easier to let herself lean into the surprise, shade it with puzzlement.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” he asked.

“He hardly tells me anything,” Toga confirmed over Shigaraki’s stubborn silence, and this prompted another warm chuckle.

When he looked away again, she reached back into her bag, her hand closing on smooth plastic.  She hadn’t been expecting to need this anywhere near so soon.  What would her daily fortune have had to say, if she’d had a newspaper or a smartphone or anything at all to check it with this morning?

What would my daily fortune have had to say about any of the last few weeks? she wondered as she pulled out the small bottle.  Oh, well.  I think I’ve been lucky, and that’s what counts.    

“Of course you’re aware of my regenerative abilities,” All for One was saying.  “The old beliefs say that the heart is the core of such powers, but modern science suggests it's actually the brain that—”

Shigaraki was standing nearly at arm’s length from All for One, who still held his shoulder in an unrelenting grasp.  It was probably far enough away, though, as long as she was careful with her aim.  Toga took one dainty step, adjusting her position and unscrewing the cap on the bottle with the Kit Kat wrapper to keep her bare skin from touching the lip of the plastic.

All for One’s gaze swung up to her just as her arm swung up to him.  He really was fast, she thought, admiring the way he tried to twist Shigaraki between himself and the arc of liquid that gleamed, briefly, in the shadows.

Shigaraki, who hadn’t even glanced her way, dropped rather than fight the drag, knees folding beneath him.  Toga had been aiming high in any case, though.  The water—plain old bottled drinking water—caught All for One full across the face.

He staggered back two steps and Shigaraki ripped himself free.  Toga conscientiously lobbed the bottle towards the back wall and, before it had even hit the cement, broke into a sprint, seizing one of Shigaraki’s sleeves on her way past.

“He told me enough!” she called gaily to All for One as his legs gave out.  He hit the ground with a heavy thud and Toga bit her lip, grin aching on her face, at the look he gave her as she shot past him.  Understanding, even a note of admiration, and the promise of malice so bright and clear he might as well have been raising a celebration toast.

Shigaraki fell into stride behind her as they broke back into the sunlight, and her heart sang in her chest as his cool fingers groped and clutched and wrapped around her wrist, tight with fear and desperate as a prayer.

They ran, leaving the sound of tearing fabric behind.

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

          “He will become the next me,” is the line that turned my feelings on Shigaraki from, “Ugh, why would you waste such a great design on such a trite light novel nihilist?” to, “GO, HAND-MAN, GO GO GO!”  I assumed All for One, with his thrashed-to-within-an-inch-of-his-life body, was setting Shigaraki up for some kind of body-thief plotline, and obviously, the bratty, petulant Shigaraki was no match for the experienced, meticulous manipulator that was his Sensei.  Immediately, my root-for-the-narrative-underdog instincts kicked in.*

That’s not the way the story ended up going, of course, but the thought has remained with me, an important milestone in my relationship with Shigaraki as a character, so when I saw the opportunity to use the line more literally in this AU, I grabbed it with both hands and didn’t look back.  

*See also: Gaelio Bauduin.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

9. My Sharon…ah a.k.a. porn star alter egos, the other Stone and a dangerous ginger (Part One)

We’ve already been waiting for our food for almost an hour; unlike we do during our usually chaotic meals accompanied by parallel discussions, we’re all sitting silently staring in front of ourselves, trying to use as little energy as possible.

“I’ve told you we should have chosen that vegetarian restaurant…” Jeff mutters in a monotonous voice.

“Of course… and the predator part of the team can go to hell, right? Vegetarian restaurant, ‘course… over my dead body, Jeff.” Smitty hisses indignantly.

“Hey, I see food! Finally!” I sigh relieved as I spot the waitress approaching our table carrying two huge trays with burgers, burritos and fries. On arriving, she recoils desperately since everybody starts shouting their orders to be the first to be served. After a few seconds of hesitation, she puts the trays on the table and then flees terrified. I’m not surprised about her reaction; I’ve never been in the middle of a locust swarm but it can be something similar.

“And people did feast upon the lambs, and sloths, and carp…” Judy and Stone recite in unison but realizing the situation they both fall silent embarrassed.

“What???” I inquire confused. Their sudden telepathic connection is pretty strange, not to mention the fact that it didn’t make any sense.

“Armaments, Chapter Two.” Stone lectures me briefly with an eyeroll.

“Verses Nine to Twenty-One.” Judy adds helpfully probably seeing my still clueless expression.

“It’s from Monty Python’s Holy Grail. When Arthur and his knights encounter the Killer Rabbit, they think that the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch might…”

“Thanks for the explanation Mike, I think I’ve heard enough...”

“Finally, my precious.” Judy rubs her hands together and grabs the Tabasco bottle to pour an enormous amount of hot sauce on her large cheeseburger.

“Tabasco? Don’t your lips hurt?” Jeff’s head perks up.

Why would her lips hurt? Did Jeff bite her mouth on the date? I glance at Karrie who answers with a barely visible shrug. So she hasn’t succeeded to learn some details of yesterday’s events either… I haven’t been able to get rid of the guys and make Judy tell everything. I could swear she has been hiding intentionally the whole day, she pretended sleeping when I got on their bus and fake-shopped between the shelves of the store at the gas station for long minutes so that we wouldn’t meet at women’s restroom. She’s quite naive if she thinks I would give up and forget about it so easily…

“Why would her lips hurt?” Scully echoes my thoughts.

“Oh, eheh, I thought I got herpes but luckily it was only a false alarm…” she snickers awkwardly. Herpes? Jesus, she’s impossible… Okay, Jeff definitely didn’t bite her anywhere… I’m not the only one who’s shocked by her words, though, Jeff exchanges a meaningful look with the terrified Mike who forgets to chew for a few seconds, Dave narrows his eyes and glances at Stone who answers with a content smirk. Am I hallucinating or do they know something I don’t?

“Uhm, but really, Tabasco? I didn’t know you liked hot sauce.” I try to direct the chat back to culinary topics.

“Oh, I adore it! But… ugh… cucumber…” she picks out a few slices of vegetable of her burger.

“Are you crazy? I mean, that’s not an actual question, of course you are; cucumber is one of the best things in the world... But if you’re such a picky eater, then take the consequences… ” Stone leans over the table and steals the green treasures from her plate.

“Hey, you haven’t even touched your fries, are you a potato snob? And it is him who calls me a picky eater… Waster… Eye for an eye.” Judy fires back and grabs the small paper bag of fries greedily from Stone’s plate.

“Guys, could you suspend the food fight until we finish our meal? You can stay here and disembowel each other with plastic cutlery but please, wait until we leave, I can’t stand blood…” Eric intervenes. “Judy, are you serious, you eat cheeseburger with knife and fork?” he breaks the character of the form teacher.

“I have to… my mouth cavity is extreme small.” Judy explains making Stone snort.

“Hmph… this is new to me, I’ve never heard this excuse. OUCH!!!” he allows himself a sexist joke, which I immediately punish by stomping at full strength on his left foot.

“Maybe because you’ve never even got close to any type of situations when you could hear it.” Jeff joins the attack with verbal means and a satisfied grin.

“Thank you very much, Jeff… Eeed… your partner is hurting meeee....” Stone whines in the voice of annoying squealer kids.

“Because she’s my feminist girl who immediately avenges jerk behavior.” Ed presses a long and slow kiss on my cheek, which makes me immediately pull closer to him.

“And she bites too…” I whisper into his ear making sure that no one else can hear it. Okay, I know, whispering in bigger company is not the most polite behavior but… it’s been a while since we…

“And how was the exhibition?” Scully’s annoying capon voice pulls me back in the present.

“The s...exhibition…” Smitty giggles and earns a head-slap from Karrie for his immature joke.

“I liked it a lot… Zach has really good eyes to find art in everyday life. It’s cool how these paintings reflect on current public issues or even on each other… You know, painters usually don’t use each other’s work as canvas but with graffiti… anything can happen. The angry owner paints the wall or it gets completed or altered by other artists… And this is why Zach’s work is so worthy; he takes snapshots of society…” Judy rambles unaware of the fact that Jeff is listening to her with dreamy heart-eyes.

“Jeff, I’ve started being jealous, you’ve never taken me to any intellectual programs, always those smoky pubs…” Stone pretends jealousy. Scully turns to him and takes a deep breath while stroking his shoulder gently.

“Stoney… it’s high time you faced the fact that is obvious to everyone else here: he’s ashamed of you.”

“But why? I do everything to meet his expectations… I read every day and…” he sniffs.

“Stone, what you do to those… “artistic” magazines… it can’t be regarded as reading.” Jeff snorts moving his hand obscenely over his lap.

“Jesus…” Ed almost spits out his apple juice of laughter and the general amusement spreads along the table like bushfire.

“Stone, if you want to win Jeff’s heart, you have to count with serious competition, reading won’t be enough.”

“Anyway, Scully, speaking of reading, I actually didn’t read yesterday evening since something very weird happened to me when I was heading to my room.” he darts his eyes at Judy who immediately freezes and stops snickering. “I heard music from the bar and went in to take a closer look at the piano player but I happened to meet…”

“AWWWW!!!” Judy groans with a surprisingly high volume, which makes everyone stare at her. “Dif... dif iv fooo delifiouf!!!” she mumbles pointing at her burger. Judging from her pronunciation, she must be nibbling on a half cow in her mouth.

“After this interesting gastronomic intermezzo, I would go on, may I? So, entering the bar I encountered…”

“Amd de dabafco… heabedly…” Judy keeps moaning. Okay, if she goes on like this, I’ll begin to be concerned about her mental condition, maybe someone spiked her drink…

“Okay, everyone who’s interested in this incomprehensible muttering, raise your hands. Nobody? Great. So, entering the bar I encountered a very weird chick.” Stone begins and for some unknown reason, Judy looks as terrified as if she had realized that her food was poisoned.

“You mean alien kind of weird or sort of a psycho girl?”

“Thanks for the great question, Mike. I don’t know, she seemed to be pretty harmless, she just ordered drinks she didn’t like but at one certain point she grabbed my arm, I thought she could have been able to break it. We also played pool but she insisted on choosing the most hopeless options, as if she had tried to lose intentionally.”

Judy listens to him with a tense attention while literally stabbing her burger with the plastic fork again and again.

“And then?” Ed asks with some impatience in his voice. I can relate to him, Stone’s story doesn’t sound very interesting even despite the theatrical presentation.

“I tried to help her with a few advice but she kept digging in my privacy and left insulted.” Stone shrugs.

“… and this was the story of the evening when Stone almost picked up a lunatic. Thanks Stone, that was interesting, really.” Ed sums up probably everybody’s opinion.

Hearing a snapping voice I squint at Judy; as if she’d just woken up from hypnosis, she examines the two plastic sticks helplessly that remained from the fork. Okay, I have to remind Eric to keep any kind of pointed or edged objects away from her if Stone’s in the room as well.

“Ugh… I’m not sure if I’m able to walk back to the club on my own feet…” Mike rubs his stomach standing up from the table.

“Because you’re a chowhound…”

“Would you be willing to pull me back while I’m sitting on carrier trolley? You would be allowed to insult me in the meantime… Consider it Stone, this isn’t an everyday offer, take it or leave it…”

“Come on Mike, he couldn’t even pull a five-year-old child…” Scully follows them and they begin a heated discussion about the estimated load capacity of Stone’s different body parts.

“Beth… uhm, could we talk for a second?” Jeff steps to me. I wait until everyone else leaves but I’m afraid this conversation will be embarrassing even without the smartass remarks of the others. I’m rooting for Jeff with all my heart but the role of the matchmaker isn’t really for me… I encouraged Judy but that doesn’t mean I want to mediate between them…

“What can I do for you?” I ask although I exactly know the answer. Pushing Judy into his bed and locking the door from outside.

“I don’t know if Judy have told you anything about yesterday evening… and I don’t even want to ask it… “he adds defensively seeing I’m about to refuse to take part in any intervention.

“Then what?” I fold my arms amused. I’m mean, I know. But I can’t help enjoying how this more than six feet tall guy is scratching the ground with the tip of his sneaker.

“Our date ended in a pretty sudden way. I mean, you know, we didn’t… kiss…” he lowers his voice at the last word, unnecessarily, though, since everyone else from the team has already left the restaurant.

“But she didn’t slap you either… I mean, I guess.”

“Exactly, that’s the point… we didn’t talk about what’s next. At first I felt pretty confident but… I don’t know, I realized we haven’t agreed on a second date yet and…”

“Look, I think you expect too much from her… Imagine this situation in a normal environment. And when I say “normal”, I mean the usual dating habits. Girl and guy know each other, guy likes girl so he asks her out, they have a date… and that’s where you are right now. What would you do normally after a date?”

“Uhm, I don’t know, I guess I’d call her a few days later and…”

“See, that’s the key. A few days later. You wouldn’t call her immediately pressuring her to give a feedback. The fact she’s around you basically all the time doesn’t mean she doesn’t need time to process and consider the pace. Plus, you’re colleagues. Plus, there are a bunch of curious people around who are observing you like you were the main characters of a soap opera. So being pushed is probably the last thing she needs.”

“I know, but this insecurity is killing me. I’m not a macho type but I don’t like to be fooled either…”

“I’m convinced that she’s not the type who would intentionally fool you. Just give her a little space.”

“Okay… but I would appreciate if you talked to her… I mean you don’t have to tell me how she feels but…”

Jesus, the guy is persistent and his only luck is that I really like him.

“I can’t promise anything, but if she comes up with the topic, I’ll try to drop some cautious hints. Deal?” I throw my arms in the air unwillingly.

“I knew I could count on you!” he flashes his trademark thousand watt smile at me.

And now, all I have to do is cornering Judy. Because I’m not going to let her screw up everything with this sweet idiot.

***

“Hey, Scully, what happened to my amp during the show? I started being worried about Ethel.”

Mike and I glance amused at each other hearing the sign of Stone beginning to embrace the name of his stuffed pet.

“The ventilator I stood behind it broke down. But your calf wasn’t in danger, she felt like a rock star in the cloud of smoke.”

“Please don’t overplay the role, Scul.”

“I’m not overplaying anything, I can hear her mooing the backup vocals every time you play Black, just ask Dave!” Scully puts his tongue out insulted at Stone.

“Jesus, I never thought I would be the one who warned you but… you smoke too much weed.”

“No because I share it with Ethel, she likes chewing the cud of it…”

“Okay, some hash and acid must have kicked in too…” he rolls his eyes following Scully in the hallway.

“Okay, finally we’re alone, we need to talk.” Mike jabbers pulling closer to me.

“But we’re already talking.” I grin at him enjoying his mongoose moves; I’ve noticed he acts like a nervous little rodent when he’s excited.

“Please Jude, we don’t have time for this, they’re back in minutes.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me who…”

“Jude, it’s about Jeff.”

The smile freezes on my face. I can’t believe this, even Mike? I thought if no one else, he’d leave me alone.

“Mike, I’m not going to discuss this with you, it’s my business. And Jeff’s.” I correct myself for show. Obviously, if I had to choose between discussing our thing (in case we have one at all) with Jeff and impalement, I’d pick the latter.

“Wait, so did it happen? Did he conceal it from us only because he’s a gentleman?” his face lights up suddenly. “Oh, I knew you play in the master class, Jeffrey, you shouldn’t be so modest.” he goes on talking to himself.

“Excuse me???” I cut him off suspecting he’s rambling about something I’m not even willing to call by its name.

“Oh, so you didn’t…?” he asks disappointed. “Then he didn’t lie to us…”

“Mike, would you try to speak coherently?”

“Sure, sorry. So Jeff joined us at the bar after your date and the main character was a girl who was raised by foster parents and she didn’t know anything about her biological family.”

“What?” I stare at him. Oh no, I should have known, he’s drunk.

“And she fell in love with her rich boss who owned an ostrich farm and collected bowling shoes.” Mike goes on and his eyes pop staring at something behind me, which makes me turn around. I notice Dave fidgeting with his drum kit and realize Mike shifted topic so that he can’t overhear us.

“Aaand… was her boss handsome?” I make an insecure attempt to play along with him.

“I don’t know; too much hair gel for my taste but…” he shrugs. “So the guy invited her to his ranch and we discussed your date and Jeff misunderstood everything, your hair, the lenses, everything…”

I guess from his next switch that we’re alone again.

“How do you mean he misunderstood my hair? How can one misunderstood hair at all?”

“He thought you had dolled up for the occasion but Stone tried to convince him that it was only the razor.” Razor??? What if I was right and he’s drunk? Or even high? Or is someone behind my back again? Or did Stone notice with his impossibly green X-ray eyes that I haven’t shaved my legs since I arrived to Cleveland?

“Yeah and after having had sex with him, the girl received an anonymous letter which claimed she and her boss were biological siblings.”

“Oh no! And then? What happened after she had read the letter?” I pretend astonishment and follow Smitty and Karrie with my eyes who carefully lift the soundboard and place it onto the amp to push them out to the van.

“She ran away from the ranch and got hit by a truck. She woke up in the hospital but due to her amnesia no one could identify her. Things got more complicated when the hospital was attacked by zombie apes and they dragged her to their space ship and…”

“Mike, you shouldn’t harass Miss Judy with your pervert movies. Judy, he made me watch that one too, you don’t want to know what comes next, trust me.” Smitty shakes his head and disappears with the gear in the hallway.

“So that was that weird chainsaw sound I heard through the wall last night… Mike, you should see a sex therapist, I’m serious.” Karrie steps back for a second before leaving with Smitty.

“Now I’m really interested in the ending, please go on, Mike.” I grin at the blushing guitarist.

“And Stone also found out about your trick. And now Jeff knows about it as well.” he retorts challenging.

“What are you talking about? I can’t pull out rabbits from a hat or coins from behind anyone’s ears.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” he points at me with an accusing look.

“No, I don’t, could you be more specific?”

“The trick you used to prevent Jeff got pregnant and couldn’t find out if the father was ostrich farm guy or one of the zombie apes. The guy was convinced it was him but the wedding ceremony got interrupted and…”

“Excuse me, Mike but have you just said that Jeff got pregnant from an ostrich farm owner? Or zombie apes? Ugh, I thought Montanans fucked cows but this… this is…”

The steps that made Mike tell on the plotline of the chainsaw porn belonged to Stone who unfortunately must have heard a few words from our actual topic.

“Actually, we wanted to keep it in secret, since you had that little quarrel at the restaurant. You know, pregnant... men have to be protected from any sources of stress. And in the meantime you turned out to be the father but don’t worry, Stone, you’ll be a great dad, anyway. And if you won’t find the front of the child just check it in the manual.” I flash my sweetest smile at him.

“Ugh… I imagined the baby of them, it would be no wonder if no one knew which is their back and their front… Jesus, I need to go to the restroom.” Mike frowns leaving us alone, although I guess the reason of his escape is the six pack beer box that was left unsupervised in the backstage.

“Uhm… Stone… do you have a second?”

To his nodding I start talking.

“Look, I…”

“Time out.” he mumbles rummaging in his guitar case.

“Idiot.” I click with my tong and stomp angrily; even despite my eyeroll I spot a weird twitch in the corner of his mouth which I can’t decode. Who cares, I decided to be a lady this time and I’m not going to let him rile me up. “I… I just wanted to say that I really appreciate that you didn’t mention our conversation to Jeff… or anyone… I guess…” I keep my eyes on the mic cables that I’m trying to untangle in the meantime, with not much success, though.

“Why?” he asks back briefly.

“How do you mean “why”?” I perk my head up.

“Why do you appreciate it? Were you afraid of me doing it?”

I mutter something indistinct since I don’t feel like answering yes but I don’t want to deny it either as who knows what his reaction would be…

“So basically you’re thanking me for not telling to Jeff that you find him amusing, kind and funny? You’re weird, I don’t think he would feel insulted hearing that.”

“No… I don’t… I’m not…” I gibber. And here we are. I hate that he’s able to confuse me with one single word and I hate that he doesn’t let me tell what I mapped out and…

“Are you not thanking me or don’t you find him amusing, kind and funny?” he stares me with that irritating poker face, I wish could punch him… but no. I’m going to stay cool. I don’t let him influence my behavior. I’m the more mature so I can’t lose my temper.

“It doesn’t matter what I said or did. I just wanted to thank you for your discretion.” I try to get out of the situation without giving a straightforward answer.

“Do you think that I shut my mouth to save your ass?” he folds his arms smirking. “Cute theory, truly. But it’s not about you. It’s about Jeff. I didn’t want to embarrass him since…”

“Embarrass him??? I’ve heard you calling him a caveman, a yeti, a Montanan cow-fucker… and you don’t want to embarrass him???” I burst out in an exaggerated laughter.

“At least, I don’t play with his feelings.”

“That’s for sure. You humiliate him in pretty obvious and clear ways. But I don’t like veiled references, let’s be honest. Do you think I fool him?”

“I haven’t even mentioned your name, you’re smarter than I thought.”

The fuckin’ smirk won’t appear from his face. Okay, please, let someone took this cable away from me before I strangle him with it.

“I don’t know what you have to do with my private life but...”

“Nothing, luckily. But our bassist has, however much unprofessional it is to run after a colleague…”

“Speaking of professionalism, you have to play in one of the most important TV shows of this country in less than twenty-four hours and instead of preparing for the big event you’re spending your time with prying into other people’s life.”

“I’ve played Alive and Porch so many times that could do it only using my toes so…”

“EW!!!”

“…so it doesn’t require much preparation. Look, I’m not saying that you’re fooling him intentionally. Or even consciously. I’m only trying to point out that it’s pretty obvious that you don’t have the faintest idea how to handle his affection.” he shrugs.

“But I have a pretty clear idea of not discussing this with you.”

That damn cable has tangled into a huge knot in the meantime and my nervous tugging doesn’t help much with untying it. He takes it out of my hands and starts loosening it with slow, steady moves.

“You don’t have to. But you’d better find out what’s next before things get more complicated.” he reaches his palm with the knot-free cable on it out in front of me.

“Otherwise?” I ask with hands on my hips refusing to take it.

“Otherwise things do get complicated.” he remarks nonchalantly and ties it again into the most complex knot I’ve ever seen. I should answer something witty but I’m just mouthing like a damn fish as he slowly reaches for my arm and pulls it from my hip to put the cable into my hand. I have no idea for how long we’ve been staring at each other when he finally clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair flipping it back. I only start blinking when he grabs his guitar case and leaves the stage. When I hear the nasal voice echoing, I’m still standing motionless on the stage.

“And by the way, nothing’s wrong with my toes.”

***

I’m not going to throw up. I’m not going to throw up. I’m not going to throw up. I should have already got used to public performances but I feel awful. The whole country is going to watch us and if it wouldn’t be enough, my mom called the whole family, uncles, aunts, cousins, their wives and husbands (including the former ones) and reminded them to turn on the TV at 11 p.m. My symptoms are worse than ever, I really need something to calm down… I should check our dressing room, maybe I find some booze there…

“Hey Mike… are you okay?” Jude approaches me with her tiny, quick steps.

“Yes, I’m okay… I’m almost okay…” I keep marching in circles in the backstage room of Studio 8H.

“You shouldn’t be that nervous, it’s not your first TV performance.”

“You don’t understand… I’ll screw up everything, I can feel it in my guts.” And I mean it literally.

“Haha, why would you? You’ll be great, I’m sure as hell.”

“Because. Before the unplugged show we realized our rented instruments weren’t suitable to anything we wanted to do and Ed fell off the chair during the set… my solos were barely audible…”

And it’s being aired in a few weeks so the whole country will know about the fiasco…

“You shouldn’t be that strict with yourself. But you know what? I know someone who is objective and can smell bad gigs from miles. A real expert.” she smiles cryptically. “We’re going to call Effie tomorrow. She’s going to watch the show, she even wants to record it.”

“Watch? Record??? No!” I squeak in despair. Suddenly, making myself ridiculous in front of my family and the whole American nation sounds pretty marginal in comparison to the fact that the person whom I’ve never met but to whom want to listen until the universe collapses is about to watch me making silly faces and stumble on my own foot.

“Jesus, why?” she sighs with growing annoyance.

“Because… because… she’s a young girl and… young girls should go to bed by 11 p. m.?”

My argumentation doesn’t sound very convincing and Jude looks at me as if I was completely losing my mind, which is pretty close to how I feel right now, actually…

“Okay Mike, now we’re going to look for your dressing room and I help you with a few relaxation exercises I learnt at Juilliard. They helped me overcome the terrible stage fright I used to feel before concerts so trust me…” she wraps one arm around my shoulder and gently but firmly directs me towards the hallway.

“I think Stone has already found our room.” I nod towards our rhythm guitarist who’s standing in front of a door staring it persistently.

“I know you’re convinced you can use the force but what if you tried the door handle?” she remarks in a mocking voice.

“There’s no try.” I help her out with the matching accent.

“Unlike you, the staff seems to be serious with this Star Wars thing.” Stone points with his thumb at a sheet taped on the door. After decoding the sloppy handwriting, I read the following names on it:

EDDIE VADER

JEFF AMEN

MIKE MCREADY

STEVE GOSSARD

DAVE ABRUZESE

       ABBRUZESE

     ABBRUZZESE

“Excellent.” Stone mumbles.

“I think they expected your porn star alter egos.” Judy shrugs casually.

“Our what?” I glance at her furrowing my eyebrows.

“You know, porn actors and actresses all use stage names, borrowing those of celebrities. Of course they always change the spelling to avoid legal problems.” she picks the sheet at the typos in our names.

“And what kind of porn actor would call himself Eddie Vader?” I ask in disbelief.

“Maybe he’s the protagonist of a kinky, incestuous story flavored with father issues. And Jeff Amen…”

“…is the naughty parish priest of a sleepy, small town somewhere in Montana.” Judy finishes Stone’s sentence. “Whereas Mike McReady…”

“…bangs everything that moves and comes in like five seconds?” Stone chuckles and although Jude tries to keep a straight face, to my biggest surprise, I spot a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that sends a completely different message towards him. They team up and joke at someone else’s expense? That’s new to me.

“You…” I point alternatively at Judy and Stone, who are still staring at each other with the same half smile on their face “…you’re supposed to be enemies, okay?” They finally notice I’m talking to them and interestingly, they both rearrange their facial muscles into a nonchalant expression in a fragment of a second. “Anyway, what about Steve Gossard?”

“It’s pretty obvious. The crew of SNL wanted him to feel like a normal person, at least for one day.” Judy explains. “Of course they didn’t know that a proper name was barely enough but they gave it a try.” she adds fixing her glasses and avoiding Stone’s glance.

“You can joke with my name but it’s undeniable that my name is the coolest porn star name in the world. Get it, Stone, hard like a stone, the connection is undeniable.” he slaps back putting on his disarming smirk and does indistinct moves with his hands to underline his theory.

“No sane porn actor would use your name but you know what, if you feel better of that thought…” Judy shoots one more arrow saturated with sarcasm after Stone who started pacing towards the studio room in the meantime.

“I don’t have time for this right now. If anybody looked for me, I’m gone to find Sharon Stone. Who borrowed her name from you know whom…” he answers with a high-minded wave, not even looking back at her.

“Who exactly needs to relax?” I squint at her. Am I hallucinating or are her nostrils really fuming? She looks like a dragon that’s ready to burn down a whole metropolis.

“I’m relaxed, Mike.” she utters slowly. “I’ve never been more relaxed.”

We spend like half an hour in the dressing room before the rehearsal. Although Judy’s exercises are efficient, I still find this whole process more stressful than a simple sound check. There are cameras and fussy crew members everywhere, we’re even asked to do everything the same way as we will do it in the live show. Like it was possible to ask Ed bouncing both times in the same way or Stone bouncing during the sound check at all, which he never does anyway... It’s just ridiculous. The glass-wearing, stage manager called Joe has even to act like the host of the show announcing us and then clapping exactly for five seconds playing the audience… like we were in some fuckin’ theater.

After having played “Alive” and “Porch” umpteen times, the director shows up to discuss the details of the gag in which they want us to participate.

“So according to our conception, the scene begins with Sharon Stone sitting cross-legged in a chair, wearing her famous dress from Basic Instinct. He announces you and after a cut, the camera shows you staring at her with dropped jaws for a few second. Can you do it?” he shares the plot. He seems to be impatient, probably because of the tight schedule.

“What a great idea. Of course we can, we do that all the time, right, guys?” Ed mumbles in a colorless voice. He’s right, it sounds like a pretty schematic, cheap, sexist joke, which doesn’t really fit our style but luckily, we’re open about our principles enough not to compromise ourselves by doing it.

“But where’s Sharon Stone? We need her to the scene.” Stone insists; he’s the most enthusiastic from the band for obvious reasons.

“As I’ve said, there will be a cut in the scene, which means we don’t need her to be able to shoot your part. Ms. Stone hasn’t arrived yet, anyway.” the director tries to keep his temper but Stone isn’t really cooperative in this process.

“But I’m not an actor, I can’t pretend I’m watching Sharon Stone if I’m not. I’m afraid I can’t do it without her.” he shrugs flashing his most irritating lopsided grin.

“I’ll see what I can do. But you need to wear the same clothes as in the live show, so please, go and change…” the director decides to quit the conversation. I can understand him.

We gather again in the same room about ten minutes later.

“Where is Sharon Stone?” Stone repeats the million-dollar question like a broken record player.

“I am Sharon Stone.” I turn in the direction of the familiar male voice and I notice Joe, the grinning stage manager waving towards us. “At least for the next ten minutes. I can even sit in that chair like her if that helps you. But I’m not willing to put on that dress, I like this sweater better.” he remarks addressing his words to Stone.

“No… uhm…I don’t think it’d be necessary… I learnt how to use my imagination in the last ten minutes…” he mutters.

The makes a few takes of our dumbest stares but we’re not told which one is the winner. Not that I’m interested in any of them.

“Hey, stunned guy, you were awesome.” Jude nudges me while I’m heading back to the dressing room, which makes me start.

“Huh, what?”

“Your stunned face. I saw your acting performance in the control room, I think it was sweet.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I flush. Maybe I should practice how to look stunned… maybe she’s not the only Camden girl who thinks I’m sweet… Cool down, Cready, what if she’s a hideous, toothless frog?

“Hey, and what about me?” Jeff catches up to us, provoking Judy to compliment him too.

“Your face can’t even be seen of that fur hat… I could cut a few holes into it for your eyes, nose and mouth, if you want to.” she teases him, which he answers by sticking out his tongue at her.

“That’d be problematic. His brain has already grown to the hat, if you tried to cut into it, you would basically execute a lobotomy on him.” Stone maneuvers between them, to Jeff’s utmost delight.

“It’s like you and your scrunchie, right? It blocks your skull so that your cerebrum doesn’t fall out of your head and roll away during your head bobbing.” she imitates Stone’s typical, pigeon-like neck moves. After a quick half turn, Stone rambles on walking backwards.

“Why don’t we discuss your potato bag dress too… sorry!” he adds mechanically not even glancing at the tall, blonde woman into whom he’s just bumped. She looks familiar but I can’t recall if I have met her and if I have, where...

“Ha, Stone Gossard is trying to give me fashion advice, I like that…”

“Yes, maybe you should set your own house in order at first…” Jeff retorts too.

“…says the guy who sleeps wearing a hat.” Stone keeps torturing our bassist.

“How could he take it off? His brain…” Judy points at Jeff’s forehead.

“Don’t make me turn this car around...” Jeff grunts.

“But where’s Sharon Stone?”

***

I loathe restrooms of public places so much. Small, tight compartments, like this one. Even the lock is broken so I have to hold on to the door handle while I’m balancing over the toilet bowl of questionable tidiness. At least, I don’t have any company; I hate sharing my most intimate body functions and enjoying those of the others at the same time. Awkward sounds and unpleasant smells… I know it’s a natural thing but still… I’m almost ready when I hear the door squeaking and heels tapping on the tiled ground. Unfortunately the owner of the legs picks the compartment next to me… great, one can’t even finish her internal monologue without being bothered. Maybe if I don’t move and breathe, I can stay unnoticed.

“Damn.” I hear my neighbor cursing. “Hey… there’s someone over there, isn’t it?” I hear the voice again from the level of my ankles. Of course, she peaked around under the wall, next time I should crouch down on the top of the toilet. “There’s no toilet paper in this one, could you give me a few sheets? Just put them into my hand, I think I can manage to reach for them at the bottom…

“Sure…” I groan. And now? Should I ask her whether she wants to pee or…? I make a quick calculation and tear off and hand her the estimated needs of an adult woman with healthy digestive system. I can get a glance at hear shoes in the meantime, one could commit a suicide by jumping off them. I decide to sneak out while she’s doing her job (whatever it is) to avoid the usual embarrassing encounter. I’m already washing my hands when the entrance door opens and it is Beth who slams it behind herself with a victorious smile.

“Ha! There you are.”

“So now you’re even following me to the restroom too?” I ask sarcastically.

“It was you who forced me to do it. And neither of us will leave until you finally tell me what happened last night.” she leans her back to the door folding her arms.

“Nothing particular, I don’t know why…”

I forget to finish the sentence since the door of the occupied compartment gets suddenly kicked out and a blonde, tall, beautiful woman basically falls out in front of the sinks.

“Shit, it got stuck, I was already thinking I would die here… Gosh, I hate this dress so much, I’m going to set it on fire in the second my contract’s running out, I swear.” she fixes the tight mini dress she’s wearing. Let’s wait for a second… Is she? Oh my… She is.

“Judy, nothing and nobody can distract me this time, not even Sharon Stone.” Beth stares me with her coldest look.

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you, just finish the girl talk.” she remarks cleaning and drying her hands.

“So, are you willing to tell me what happened or should I pull everything word by word out of you?”

“Can I choose the word by word version?” my lips pull into an embarrassed smile but Beth’s reaction is crazier than expected. She turns the key in the lock and walks slowly to the toilet bowl in the closest compartment.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be more cooperative?” she flashes a somewhat terrifying grin and swings the key over the toilet.

“You can’t do it, you can’t take us hostage… you can’t take Sharon Stone hostage here. She needs to go back to the set.” I try to make her come around.

“Actually, I don’t feel like going back so I’d stay… if you don’t mind, of course.” the captured sex symbol ruins my argumentation.

“Great. A real girl party.” Beth confirms with a plastic smile. “So, what happened yesterday evening?”

“Yeah, what happened yesterday?” Sharon repeats the question curiously. “Do you mind if I…?” she pulls a cigarette and a lighter out of her tights and since we both shake our head, she lights up.

“She had a date with Jeff.” Beth explains with a meaningful look. “With Jeff Ament.” she adds realizing the name didn’t ring a bell with her. “With Jeff Ament from Pearl Jam.” she narrows it down seeing the still clueless face of our chat partner. “And now it’s time to share the details.” she turns back demanding to me.

“Okay…” I sigh and give them a quick review about the date, trying to stay as objective as possible, avoiding any forms of judgment and not leaving any occasion for speculations.

“And at the end, you chickened out and used the trick.”

“Seriously, Beth, what trick? Mike told me the same and…”

“So you’ve already discussed it with Mike!” she shouts outraged. “Anyway, I’m talking about the herpes trick, of course.”

“What???”

“Pretending to have herpes to avoid being kissed.” Sharon enlightens me making me feel week-minded.

“Who… who would do something like that?” I try to sound innocent.

“Oh, come on, sweetie. The herpes trick is older than herpes itself. It’s a part of the female toolkit.” she goes on taking a deep drag.

“Judy, there’s nothing wrong in acknowledging you got confused and made a desperate decision.” Beth mellows out. “You can talk to me about your insecurities, it’s not a shame. I was too pushy and I’m sorry for that but I really think he’s a great guy and deserves a chance.”

“I know, I just… I’ve known him for... how long? Two weeks? I barely know him! And the thought of him having known me for the same time and wanting to know me better… maybe not only as a friend… it freaks me out. I’m not saying I’m not interested in him at all, it’s just… too fast!” I blurt out finally.

“Okay. You know what? If you’re not sure about your feelings… or expectations… let’s make a checklist! I mean… you start listing the characteristics you like and want to find in a guy and I tell you if Jeff has them. I’ve known him for more than two weeks…”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ve started being interested in that Jeff guy too.” Sharon hops on the sink with a bright smile.

“Jesus… guys are not like shopping lists… but okay, whatever!” I throw my arms in the air. “First of all… he must be reliable. I don’t like good-for-nothings.”

“Checked.” Beth nods satisfied.

“And… he must have a good sense of humor. If he can’t make you laugh or if he makes you explain your jokes, run!”

“Needless to say, but checked!” she confirms enthusiastically.

“The guy I’m looking for is… intelligent…”

“…checked…”

“…smart…”

“…checked…”

“…creative…”

“…checked…”

“…some talent doesn’t hurt either…”

“…some talent checked…” I can’t not notice that her voice gets more and more bored at every answer.

“He must be amusing and kind and funny as well. And interesting and gentle too.” I jabber in one breath.

“Checked, checked, checked, checked, checked… Come on, Judy, how long do you want to go on with this to believe he’s ideal for you?” she huffs impatiently.

“There’s one more thing.” I cut her off. “He… he must be attractive. Physically.” I feel my face reddening as I add the last word.”

“Checked.” she replies without hesitation. “Checked?” she repeats it with a questioning face and due to her reaction, I realize I’m scowling.

“I… I don’t know… I mean… he’s definitely not unattractive… but I’ve never felt that “let’s jump into bed immediately” vibe when being with him…” I try to express my feelings although the only thing I want to do is to mumble something indistinct and escape from this fuckin’ piss-smelling room.

“Now here’s the point!” Sharon exclaims and points at me holding her cigarette between her index and middle finger. “You don’t feel the buzz! Forget him.” she adds in a serious voice.

“The fact you don’t want to take him to bed immediately only means you’re not a slut. If a guy’s personality is likable, you can suddenly realize you’re attracted to him physically too. You should just spend some time with him without any pressure and let things happen.” Beth talks her over ignoring the advice.

“Bullshit! It’s not about having sex on the first date but there must be a spark… even if you don’t notice it immediately. Passion won’t grow out of nothing, trust me. Yes, passion, that’s the key. It isn’t worth a pile of shit if there isn’t any passion between you.” she flails intensely with the cigarette.

“Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know any of you two.” Beth keeps persuading me and honestly, I don’t know whom I should believe.

“By the way, which one of the guys is Jeff? Is he the lanky one?” Sharon inquires while she’s stubbing the cigarette on the sink and then drops it into the trash bin.

“The tall, athletic one.” Beth helps her out. “The one with the hat.” she rolls her eyes seeing the uncomprehending expression of her.

“Oh. I thought he was the lanky one, with the ponytail.” she mutters disappointed.

“Ugh, Stone?” I groan in disgust.

“Yes, the one that almost hit me in the hallway. I heard you teasing each other, I thought something was going on between you. It looked definitely passion-like.”

“Wait, was that you?” I giggle.

“Yup. Wearing a leather jacket, denim pants and no makeup.”

“I have to tell this to Stone, he’ll freak out. He really appreciates your… ahem… talent… very much. Obviously not much enough to recognize you in “civil” clothes. Anyway, nothing is going on between us, let alone passion. Apart from the fact that we hate each other passionately.”

“Interesting, I could have sworn… But hate is a good start. Better than nothing. Have you ever tried hate sex?” she asks out of the blue.

“Excuse me, what?” I cackle.

“Of course, you haven’t. But you should. It’s hot.” she leans closer confidentially. “It makes things extremely complicated most of the times, but it’s hot. Anyway, what time is it? However much I’ve got fed up with drooling crew members, I should go back, they want to pre-record a few scenes…”

“Shit, it’s late you’re right. Beth, would you…?”

She fishes the key out of her pocket and unlocks the door unwillingly shaking her head.

“I hope you don’t let yourself be influenced by this… this… actress…” she whispers to me while we’re walking back to the studio room following the person in question.

“You mean by having sex with Stone?” I joke but Beth doesn’t seem to appreciate my humor so I go on sincerely. “Why would I? I’ve known her for like ten minutes. And I consider your advice but… you know it’s not as easy as you think, Jeff doesn’t stay away from me for a minute, the “without any pressure” factor depends on him too…”

“I see what I can do, don’t worry.” she smiles mysteriously in front of herself.

“Don’t you dare talk to him, do you want to ruin my life?” I scream-whisper since we’ve arrived to the waiting room in the meantime. The guys are talking standing in a circle apart from Stone who’s fixing his half ponytail with undivided attention in front of the mirror. What a narcissistic asshole.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the prettiest poodle at the dog exhibition.” I remark casually as I pass him by.

“Do you prefer stray dogs?” he shouts after me in his irritating teenage guy voice. “Anyway, where is Sharon Stone?”

“I’m here and I’m ready for the action.” she answers in the steamiest tone I’ve ever heard and walks along the room with hypnotic hip moves.

“Stone, are you ready too?” I ask grinning ear to ear at my blushing enemy but I can’t enjoy his embarrassment for long since someone leans over my shoulder and sings two words into my ear.

“Hate sex…”

[crue6xx]

Unexpected........soft but not

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

Type:Fluffy

Pairing:Vince×Reader

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

You love motley crue, you always get tickets to shows and go to whiskey a go go and clubs, vinces voice was so mesmerising, you loved it.

Although one night your grandmother stumbled upon a book of yours, of course it had to be your old diary just from a couple years back when you and your prime time of obsession with Motley Crue, you still are but this one was in depth about Vince and your love for him, you know your grandma also likes Motley Crue so as a birthday gift because as it was coming up soon, about a month or so but she decided to buy you backstage passes to a Motley Crue show.

You obviously had no idea about it which wasn't a bad thing also wasn't exactly a good thing the reason happened to be unexpected but it surely happened, skip to last night well you had a couple drinks the rainbow Bar and Grill it was pretty nice you were getting a bit more Tipsy then you planned but you could still see just a bit blurry, a guy with white blonde sort of bushy hair walked up to you introduce himself is Vince, you weren't drinking a bit more now getting a bit more Tipsy things a bit harder to remember or kind of getting blurrier.

You played it off like he was just some guy trying to get your number that you didn't want to go home with, but you didn't want your grandma to see you come home drunk it kind of out of your mind last time that happened you messed up big-time and almost burned the house down but let's not talk about that, back to what was really happening at the bar. " hey I'm Vince nice to meet you how do you do?", looking over from your drink, you " hi I'm doing just fine".

" no-name huh, looks like you're hard to get but me being the guy am I'm pretty sure I don't need to do much explaining do I?".

Still pretty drunk unable to recognize who the hell you're talking to you're blurred out these words a bit loudly " what the hell do you mean, I have never met you in my entire life what makes you think I want to go home with you".

" well then I guess I'll have to try harder" a smug smile exhibited his face " you heard the song Kickstart My Heart?", " fuck yea, who the hell hasn't".

" does the name Vince ring a bell?" He was clearly hinting, still he the hell do you not notice your idol, love of your life? " nah, I don't think so if you say you're trying hard you're not doing too good buddy" you said sipping your iced Martin, Vince clearly cringed at the fact that you called him "Buddy".

" without you in my life I'd slowly Wilt and die but with you by my side you're the reason I'm alive" Vince sung.

Your eyes and now just realizing exactly who you're talking to you yell these three words "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" Vince's smug face happily and easily turned into a smile that you finally noticed who the fuck you're talking to.

" well now that you know, I'm pretty sure you came here alone for number one and number two you're drunk out your mind if you didn't notice me number three you can't drive a car right now so I could take you home unless you don't want anyone to see this crazy drunk but your choice just offering" vince said in a manner knowing he scored .

" oh my God, you Vince Neil. Just ask me. Some random crazy ass girl. To go home with you!?!?!?!"

" what do you fucking think?" He smirked.

" well he'll fucking yeah, Nikki Tommy and Mick with you?" Hooing fir a yes and a no at the same time

" not tonight, that's weird but not tonight".

After reading go home with him to the apartment you thought it was just going to be a quick hookup and then you leave which you didn't mind cuz it's Vince fucking Neil but at the same time you wish it was more because it's not just I want to have sex with him you want to fall in love it's clearly you know will never happen which is the sad part and makes you want to crumble up into a ball and die but fear not I guess you never know Vince is surprising but at the same time groupies is his ultimate favorite, just like a princess who needs a prince but this is not the way it goes cuz we know how the story goes.

When Vince finally parked at the apartment you weren't dazzled it definitely wasn't as nice as your house for a heavy metal star but it was nice enough they were still kind of struggling and didn't feel like buying a new place plus it's OG Motley house the band grew up here, after walking up the rickety stairs you walked in, the smell of alcohol cigarettes and small burn marks on the carpet made Vince want to clean for once in his life.

He told you to wait on the couch just walked into his room you had no fucking idea what he was doing he told you to wait on the couch if he walked into his room you add note walking idea what you was doing but you said couch he told you to wait on the couch if he walked into his room you add note walking idea what you was doing but you said couch waited he told you to wait on the couch if he walked into his room you add note walking idea what you was doing but you waiting on the couch.

Vince walked out with a robe, expecting him to take it off you're a bit preppy, because secretly no one really knows but you're a virgin you don't like saying it makes you sound so basic you don't know how but it just does you don't want to ruin the moment.

" follow me" Vince culling his finger with a smirk you got up at demand you don't know why but it was very attractive even though people found it a bit rude specially to treat a woman like that who gave a damn is Vince goddamn Neil he was hot and you already there you can't do anything about it anyway so, getting up from the couch he followed him slowly into his room, he shares a room with Tommy they both have one side of the room which is split by sheet hung up from the ceiling pinned up by Staples, you walk past the sheets and sea candles aligned around the bed just for some decoration.

You expecting them to immediately push you onto the bed instead he told you to lay down your stomach flat on the bed, you removed your shirt without him even asking you to do so , now faced down on your stomach on the bed Vince crabs some essential oils and put it onto your back it was warm he started to massage your back they give you hickeys on your neck the trails of kisses behind your ear and tight friction oh, he has no shirt but he's wearing a sort of Speedo type underwear that's pretty tight but also flexible.

" you know I know you, you're always in the front row at every show in this town, you're always on some fan page about Motley Crue mostly me though oh, why is that?" Vince sais calmly.

" I've always love Motley Crue, but the first time I saw a picture of you I literally died at the site love your rocking body".

" I'm going to take this slow, I'm not going to give you what you want you're not a groupie you got some girl just looking for a quick hookup, your girl looking for something more, I don't get that alot, so we're going to take things not my way not your way just away from what you expected, maybe next time" he said in a rough scrappy hot voice while massaging your back.

" I'm perfectly fine with that, you know I really do enjoy this more than just a quick hookup" you say fully satisfied with the feeling of vinces hands and the oil rubbing on your back.

After you were fully satisfied what's the massage he lied beside you shirtless, after a quick breath of relief you sit up on the head of the bed propped up on a pillow half under the covers, Vince blows out the candles.

Vince doesn't know exactly what to do neither do you you both are really know what exactly taking it slow is but first step is already done but you don't know what to do afterwards so you just sitting in bed both silent trying to figure out what to talk about what to do and how to do it wow still going slow.

" do you want to spoon?" You say offering to be the small spoon, " already a step ahead of you guess you just said it first" Vince said wrapping his arma around you.

" I know we just met feels like I've known you for a while I'm not sure why this just feels right if this is what love feels like I'm in for a long happy ride".

Those words melted your heart, he kissed you play with your hair left hickeys almost everywhere but not below your waist because as you both agreed you were going slow but you wondered how long you were going to keep it slow because to be honest you were a bit impatient cuz I mean you've had a crush on Vince for so long not that it's an issue that you got a massage from him get to come to his apartment and snuggle and Spoon but still you didn't want to keep it slow for too long.

" I think well.... I sound crazy I know I do but... I think I love you" Vince forced himself to blurt.

" I've always wanted to hear that but that's only because I had a crush on you for how you looked, got even more now you sound nowhere near crazy to me...... I think I love you too"

" man me and you so crazy ass motherfuckers, I guess taking it slow as the right way finally met someone that I can connect with been a while since that".

" it's funny, you were never this emotional whenever I saw you in interviews and such wow it's truly a soft guy"

" well you'd be surprised, I truly am soft guy it's hard to admit although I am pretty rough around the edges I am soft guy a little bit on the inside"

" well it was very unexpected, I thought you just wanted a quickie I was wrong we're taking it slow I guess I don't mind as much but I'm still a little bit impatient to be honest"

" I think when I said taking it slow I didn't mean we had to wait days he'll it could have been 15 minutes I wouldn't mind" vince smirked moving his hand up your thigh still while spooning you.

" well then I guess tonight have some more unexpected territories to explore I say you've done enough of the slow what do you say?"

" what do you fucking think?'

" still unexpected hot soft but not"

[berry-uglyduckling]

Together After All

[imatastyporkcutletbowl]

If you enjoy my work, you can buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/T6T0GWA5

Yuuri is taken from Yutopia Katsuki and forced to dance for a mysterious man who carefully keeps his face covered. Left with no choice but to cooperate with Yuuri’s captor, if he wants his husband to survive, Victor and a few close friends stage increasingly dangerous and difficult crimes. But, what will happen when one goes terribly wrong?

Chapter 1: Negation

Still curled up and sleeping at well past the usual time, Victor groaned as he felt something warm and wet stroke his cheek, then his nose.

“Hey,” he mumbled, pushing the hairy offender away, “stop that, Maccahin.”

The old poodle whimpered impatiently and Victor gave him a sleepy smile.

“At least let me get myself together,” he complained, “The drinks were strong last night.”

The dog’s head tilted and he panted softly, and Victor could almost hear his absent husband’s scolding voice.

I told you not to drink that much. You always do that while I’m away.

Victor sat up and gave a shuddering sigh, absently petting the old poodle’s head.

“Damn, even when you’re not with me, you’re with me, aren’t you, Yuuri?” he whispered.

I hate it when he leaves. It’s like some of the life just goes out of me when Yuuri’s not here. I feel bad for Toshiya, of course. Yuuri’s father is very ill and needs him there. I just…miss him.

God, I’m pathetic!

I need to get up and do something.

Instead, he nudged Maccachin aside and rolled over, wrapping himself around his absent husband’s pillow. He sighed in mingled relief and agony as Yuuri’s gentle scent filled his senses and instantly, he felt a little, lusty throb begin in his loins.

“Not fair.”

Yuuri only left yesterday, and already I’m a mess. I stayed out late with friends, drinking so that I wouldn’t miss him so much, but it really didn’t help at all.

He flopped on Yuuri’s pillow, sucking in his husband’s scent shamelessly and groaning as the phone rang. He picked up his cell from the nightstand.

God, I hope it’s Yuuri.

He made a discontented face as he recognized Yakov’s number ringing in, and he held the phone away so that he didn’t have to suffer the man’s loudly shouted admonishment.

“Victor! You are a half hour late. Where are you, you lazy little fool! Get out of bed and drag your ass down here now, or I’ll come and drag it down here for you!”

“Yakov, you’re hurting my head. Be quieter when you yell at me,” Victor chided him.

“GET YOUR LAZY ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” Yakov roared, making Victor wince and squint his eyes as he ended the call.

“Oh my god, I can barely stand to move,” he complained, earning a sympathetic whimper from Maccachin, who thumped his tail on the bed and laid his head on his paws.

Victor staggered out of bed, stumbling over his clothes as he headed for the bathroom. He flinched and made a face at the smell of vomit, and he realized he hadn’t quite made it to the toilet before throwing up the night before.

Yuuri would be really mad at me for something like that. Lucky, he’s not here to see.

He held his breath as he began to clean up the mess, but couldn’t hold it long enough. A whiff of the stuff hit his nostrils, and he barely made it to the toilet as he began heaving again.

That’s it. I’m going to Japan. Yuuri convinced me to stay here so that I would get in lots of extra practice for the exhibition next week, but I can do that in Japan. All Yakov really does is yell at me, anyway.

Besides, Yutopia Katsuki has the hot bath and the pork cutlet bowls.

Yes, I am definitely running away to Japan.

He sighed and flushed the toilet, then cleaned up the last of the mess on the floor, before hurrying into the shower and rinsing away the clinging scent of sickness. He took his time in the shower, chuckling to himself as he heard his cell phone ringing again.

“I’m not answering, Yakov!” he called out cheerfully.

He finished bathing and dried off slowly, looking down longingly at his lovely, but neglected genitalia.

I don’t even know when Yuuri will be coming back. It depends on when Toshiya starts to feel better. I wish I was there too. I don’t know how I’d be of any help, but I don’t like that they’re all so worried and I’m not there worrying too.

He finished dressing and picked up his phone, rolling his eyes as the phone rang again. He punched the button, scowling.

“Yakov, I’m leaving right now…” he began.

“Vitya,” said a man’s deep, stern voice that instantly made the Russian skater stiffen, “we need to meet and talk. I want to have a word with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Victor snapped, “I told you that a long time ago! Leave me alone! I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“That is what we need to talk about,” the voice on the other end went on, “You should know that…”

“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it!” Victor yelled, “I told you that I don’t want any part of all of that. I don’t care what that damned test said, I-am-not-your-son!”

“You can’t change the blood that runs in your veins,” the man on the phone went on, “and if you refuse to listen to what I have to say, it won’t just be you who is paying for it. Now…”

“NO!” Victor shouted, ending the call with almost violent fingers.

The cell phone escaped his hand and clattered onto the tile floor.

“Damn it,” he breathed, bending and picking it up, then pausing to examine it for a moment.

Satisfied that no damage was done, he slipped the phone into his pocket and left the house, headed for what he was sure would be a very bleak afternoon full of scolding.

XXXXXXXXXX

I’m finally here, Yuuri sighed, descending the escalator that led down from the airport’s arrival gates, I’m sure Minako will have half of Hasetsu waiting for me.

“Yuu-ri!” called his ballet instructor’s voice, making a smile and a little blush rise on Yuuri’s face.

“Minako-sensei, I kind of thought you’d be waiting for me here,” Yuuri acknowledged, “How are things at home? Is my dad doing all right?”

Minako gave him an encouraging smile.

“He’s hanging in, there,” she reported, leading Yuuri out of the terminal, “The doctor said that his lungs are starting to clear, thanks to the medication and breathing treatments. But, he’s still feverish and really tired, though.”

Minako paused and frowned.

“So, where’s Victor, anyway? He usually barely lets you out of his sight. You came all of the way here, without him?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri sighed, “He actually wanted very much to come with me, but I convinced him to stay in Saint Petersburg.”

“You what? Why? What’s wrong? Is something going on with you two?”

“Eh, no, Victor and I are fine. But, he’s got an exhibition skate next week, and it’s important for him to train with his coach there.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense, although, at this point, there’s not much that old guy does but yell at Victor to practice. He pretty much does it all, himself.”

“Maybe, but there are some things you really need a coach to spot and fix for you.”

“I guess.”

“You just want him to come here because you think he’s hot,” Yuuri teased her.

“Doesn’t everybody?” Minako sighed, rolling her eyes, “Why is it that all of the really hot guys are gay? Can you just tell me that?”

“Victor’s really kind of pansexual,” Yuuri corrected her.

“Not anymore, he’s not,” the older woman chortled, “I just don’t get it. What do you have that all of the millions of us females in the world don’t?”

“I dunno,” Yuuri laughed, “a penis? Victor really likes that. He says it’s better than katsudon.”

“God, I’m just not used to you talking like that,” Minako giggled, “Victor’s really corrupted you, hasn’t he? You better not say things like that in front of your folks. They’ll pass out.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Yuuri assured her, “I’m just talking that way because I’m comfortable with you.”

“Yeah,” Minako said, eyeing him affectionately, “You’ve grown up a lot since Victor came to Hasetsu, haven’t you?”

“I guess. Victor can still make me blush, though.”

“I guess so. The guy has no filter. He just lets it all loose and doesn’t care if it’s appropriate or not. But, I guess when you’re that beautiful and that rich, you can pretty much do what you want, right?”

“I can’t argue with that…although…”

Yuuri paused and looked down at the ring on his finger for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Minako asked, “Did Victor get into some kind of trouble?”

“Well, not exactly,” Yuuri hedged, “but the Russian government didn’t like the fact that our wedding drew so much attention. Gay marriage isn’t legal in Russia or here, but in Russia, they are careful about their country’s image. Victor and I got interviewed by the authorities when we got home, and they made it clear that we should let the furor die down and don’t talk too much in interviews about our marriage. They also strongly suggested that we refer to each other as partner instead of husband. I don’t really mind, I guess, but it was scary having strange people just show up like that to talk to us.”

“That is scary,” Minako agreed, “You two be really careful, okay? I know you love each other, and I don’t think it was wrong for you to be married. Neither do your folks or your sister. But, the laws are pretty strict, even though we don’t like them. Stay out of trouble. I mean, I know you will, but Victor can sometimes be careless, because he’s used to having his way about things. That will only take you so far.”

“I know,” Yuuri assured her, “and Victor knows too. We’re being careful. I promise.”

The two quieted as they continued to walk the short distance from the airport to Yutopia Katsuki. They were greeted at the door by a tired looking Mari, who smiled wearily at her arriving brother.

“Yuuri, thank goodness you’re here,” she said, hugging him, “Mom and I are pretty run down, taking care of the business and Dad too.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Yuuri said, hugging her back, “I’m ready to do whatever you and Mom need.”

“Thanks. The hot springs area needs some cleaning and we need to prepare rooms for a couple of incoming guests, but go and see Mom and Dad first. They’ll be really glad you’re here.”

“Okay, I will.”

Yuuri walked to the back of the house with Minako on his heels.

“I’ve tried to help out when I can,” Minako explained, “but ever since you hit the podium in the Grand Prix Finals last year and won at Four Continents and Worlds, I’ve got a lot more ballet students, and the ice rink is usually packed. Everyone’s going to freak out when they see you. You’re as popular as Victor here in Japan, now.”

“It feels kind of strange, being noticed like that all of the time,” Yuuri acknowledged, “Victor’s used to it, but it still gives me a funny, scared feeling inside to have everyone looking at me and calling out to me.”

“Well, your Eros really talks to people,” Minako laughed.

“Yeah? Well, it had better be quiet while I’m visiting here, because I need to focus on Dad.”

“Right.”

The two paused as they reached the master bedroom door. Yuuri bowed at the entrance, speaking a greeting to his parents.

“Yuuri!” Toshiya exclaimed softly, his voice shaking slightly as he smiled up at his son, You’ve come all this way to see me? I thought you would be busy training for the next season with Victor.”

“We were,” Yuuri confirmed, “but Victor is doing extra training for an exhibition next week, so it wasn’t any trouble for me to come. I am glad to help out here.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Hiroko said cheerfully.

“I should be up and around in a few days,” Toshiya assured him, “It’s really all right, if you can’t stay for long.”

“I’ll be staying for a week at least,” Yuuri said, smiling, “Victor sends his regards, and he sent you this gift.”

Toshiya grinned, accepting the package and carefully unwrapping the delicate paper.

“It’s the Russian cookbook that he mentioned when I was telling him about my wish to learn a few dishes to make him feel at home while he visits here!” the elder Katsuki exclaimed.

“Try not to get so excited, dear,” Hiroko warned him.

“Sorry, I just love so much to try cooking new things. As soon as I’m well enough…”

“You won’t get well very soon if you get so overexcited, Dad,” Yuuri said, smiling affectionately.

“Ugh, what a time to be sick. There’s so much to be doing, and as soon as everyone knows you’re here, the hot springs will be busier than ever!”

“I’m trying to keep it quiet, so that I can focus on helping to take care of you,” Yuuri complained, “If you make a big deal out of me coming home, then we’ll get overwhelmed, even with me here!”

“Why don’t you go and settle in, dear?” Hiroko suggested, “We’ve had to use your old room for some storage, because of all of the business, but Victor’s room is all ready for you.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri sighed, “I’ll go put my things away and take a quick bath to clean up, then I’ll help as much as you like.”

“Who are you kidding?” Mari objected, “You’ve just been on a really long flight. You should soak and eat, then just go to bed for the night. We’ve got things until you’re rested.”

“All right. If you’re sure you don’t need me sooner.”

“Naw, we’ve got it,” Mari chuckled, “Go on. Get outta here.”

“All right,” Yuuri said, rising, then bowing as he left the room.

He went first to the hot spring, where he sank down into the hot water, closing his eyes and sighing wearily.

Mari-nee-chan is right. It was a long trip here. I’m so tired. I already miss Victor too.

He rested quietly, keeping hi eyes closed and visualizing his attractive husband, sitting in the spring, near him.

“Victor,” he breathed in a whisper.

He could almost feel the silken brushing of his husband’s lips and he could imagine their mouths opening, and their hot tongues entwining. Just the thought caused a reaction in his submerged loins, and Yuuri groaned at the thought of how long it would be before he felt Victor’s kisses and caresses again. The realization left him hungry for his husband’s touch, and he could have cried at the fact that Victor’s scent was still in the bed from the last time he’d slept there.

“I want you so much, Victor,” he whispered, sliding a hand down to sooth his hungry privates, “I miss you. I need you to kiss me. I need you touch me…Victor!”

It didn’t take much of smelling Victor’s warm, delicious scent and stimulating himself to bring himself to orgasm, but he felt a guilty twinge at doing something like that alone, while Victor was without him. He imagined Victor practicing on the ice at home and it made him blush and laugh to think of his husband stopping to look down at his neglected nether region as even Yuuri’s secret indulgence brought a strong reaction.

“Victor!” he gasped, loosing himself into a small hand towel.

He panted for a few moments, then released a shuddering sigh, turning and hugging the pillows that smelled like Victor. As tired as he was, it was harder to fall asleep, not having his husband’s warmth to sooth him.

I’m sure Dad will get better soon. As soon as he is well, I’ll be able to go home again. Victor will probably want to do it a lot to make up for the days we missed. He’s like that. Victor is always starving for my love.

Victor is insatiable.

I should call him.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number, then waited as the phone rang.

“Yuuri!” Victor’s happy voice greeted him.

He could hear Yakov yelling at his husband in the background.

“Sorry to interrupt your training,” Yuuri apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor laughed, “Yakov’s only happy when he’s yelling at me. How are you doing? How is Toshiya?”

“He’s hanging in there,” Yuuri answered, “I think I’ll be able to come home in a week.”

“A week!” Victor complained, “Why not just shoot me in the heart? That’s a long time to be without you. I’m going to run away to Japan. I’ll leave tonight.”

“Don’t you dare,” Yuuri said sternly, “You know you need to practice. We’ve been over all of this. You need to be with your coach. I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

“Hmm,” Victor huffed.

He went quiet for a moment.

“Yuuri, it’s late for you. Are you in bed right now?”

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri sighed sleepily.

“Ah, I thought I heard it in your voice. You’ve been masturbating, haven’t you?”

“Victor!” Yuuri yelped, “I have not!”

“Are you sleeping in your room or mine?”

“I had to sleep in your room. There have been extra guests, so they needed more storage space, and they were using my room for that.”

“So, are you wrapped around my pillows and thinking about me while you touch yourself?” Victor asked playfully.

“Victor!”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, slipping into a deeper, more seductive tone, “I want you to do something while I’m talking to you.”

“Ah…eh…I don’t…”

“Put your fingers in your mouth, Yuuri, and I want you to suck on them. And while you are sucking on them, pretend you’re looking at me with those eyes you make when we’re naked together.”

“Um, Victor, are you still at the ice rink?” Yuuri asked anxiously, “Should you really be phone sexing me when you’re in public?”

“I went into the bathroom, so we can be alone,” Victor purred, “Go on, now. Suck on your fingers, little piggy. They taste good when I do it. Are you sucking them, Yuuri?”

“Uh huh,” Yuuri answered, closing his eyes as he obeyed.

“Good. Now, slide them down and be sure to drag them over your nipples as you move them down…and down…over your soft belly…and into your belly button.

“That tickles too much!” Yuuri laughed, “Victor, are you touching yourself too? Thinking about me?”

“Of course,” Victor sighed, closing  his eyes and reaching into his pants to caress himself, “go down between your thighs now. Tease yourself to get hard, then…”

Victor’s voice broke off as a large crash sounded.

“Victor!” Yuuri gasped sitting up in the bed, “Victor are you okay?”

“Stop playing with yourself and phone sexing the pork cutlet bowl!” Yuuri heard Yurio shout, “Yakov says to get the hell out there and practice more.”

“Damn it,” Victor sighed.

“Sounds like you have to go,” Yuuri said, smiling slyly, “I guess you’ll just have to think about what I’m doing in your bed, here in Hasetsu while you’re busy practicing.”

“That’s not nice, Yuuri,” Victor complained, pouting.

“I love you, Victor.”

“I love you to, Yuuri. Be good, now, and come home to me soon.”

“I will.”

[katygoestoeurope]

Day 16—September 15

The bed at this place was incredible. It’s GIANT. I can be sprawled out and taylor can be too and we’re barely touching. We got up around 9:30 and came out to breakfast on the living room table. A beautiful set up with cereal, fruit, yogurt, toast, and espresso all served in her husbands beautiful glass art. (Did I mention that she’s an artist too? She does intricate mosaics and they are absolutely stunning). And taylor and I couldn’t get over how sweet our host was to set all this up, it was fantastic. She just asked that we don’t post anything about the breakfast on Airbnb because apparently in Italy you can rent out a room but you can’t provide any services so she could get fined and shut down. We ate and Kimmie joined us and 2 cups of espresso later I was beyond pumped to start the day. Kinda cool to say my first time trying espresso was in Venice :p We decided to get lost in Venice which, we learned, is not only simple to do but impossible NOT to do. We walked around for 9 and a half hours and, no exaggeration, only sat down or stopped really for 45 minutes of that. The day is a blur of beautiful streets and stairs crossing canals. The streets had no rhyme to them and some would end abruptly or get incredibly narrow for a short while. Sometimes it felt as though we were lost in a labyrinth only to emerge onto a Main Street filed with tourists. The only down side was that there were so many people in parts that we felt a little like cattle being herded and the locals are very impatient, pushing themselves through the crowded streets. There were a few things I definitely wanted to see so we sporadically used google maps to head in the right direction. Taylor said she had thought if we wandered enough we would bump into everything but that was so far from the case. Small as it may be, getting around can turn you in circles so fast and we got lost a few times even with the assistance of google maps. Here is a list of highlights from today:

- We got pizza and it was quite possibly my favorite ever. One bite into that crust and I knew that American pizza will never taste the same. Just being aware of the fact that such a level of deliciousness is possible, I’m spoiled forever. It’s the crust. The dough they use is magnifico! - Trying to find the grand canal we basically gave up using a map and I saw a bridge that I was drawn to. We went over the bridge and found the view I’d been looking for. The grand canal was indeed, pretty grand. There were a few women with their canvases set up painting the view, their talent so obvious. - We passed a woman playing an instrument that I’d never seen. It looked almost like a kind of harp laying down but she used a combination of finger picking and rubber hammer instruments to play if. She was playing a song that I love and we stopped and watched her in awe for a few minutes before giving her a tip. - I fell in love with a purse. It was small, leather, deep teal, said “made in Italy” and was only €20. (I didn’t get it because I thought we’d end up passing that store again, which we didn’t, but I’m still glad I didn’t get it. The next day our host informed us that a lot of Chinese people come and have shops in Venice where they sell knock off versions of things that are made in china but are stamped with “made it Italy” so people buy them. They have giant factories I guess just 30 minutes away and none of it is made here. Good to know!) - There were a lot of gondolas and without even paying for it, we got to hear their music a few times as they passed under a remote bridge down a random street. One time there was this woman playing the accordion and i just fell in love with the song she played. She looked like Lorena McKennit and had the same whimsical music trance aura about her. - Walking around they have men outside restaurants trying to recruit people to come eat there. One young man after greeting us with a “buena cera” asked us to come inside. We politely declined and he yelled to us “maybe at least come back and talk to me?” With a charming smile haha Italian men really are flirts - We were on a mission to find st marks (Marco) basilicas and wow did that prove to be a struggle haha never thought it was possible to take so long to walk 0.2 miles! But then all the sudden we turned a corner and bam we were there! This wide open space, the plazza, and the basilica front and center! Such a gigantic and elaborately decorated building it was difficult to grasp. There were pigeons everywhere and the children chasing them warmed my heart. I wish I was about 20 years younger–an age when that still is socially acceptable. Still I was tempted. - The pigeons deserve their own bullet point. I felt like I hadn’t looked at the basilica enough so we went back but the pigeons stole the show. People were feeding them and they’d land all over them and eat out of their hands. I instantly wanted to do the same but we didn’t have any food. Taylor said to just hold my hand out and trick them. I didn’t think this would work but I did it anyway and it worked!!!! I made a pigeon friend and I was so happy. I even got taylor to do it too :p - Learning our lesson from Ljubljana we bought umbrellas before the rain and they came in handy as we could still roam the streets while other sought the dryness under awnings. We also wore samples which I’m sure looked bizarre with the umbrella- “they were prepare enough to bring an umbrella but not closed shoes??”–but it ended up being perfect. Besides, our other shoes are still soaked from the rain we got caught in all day 3 days ago. - We stumbled on this art exhibit that had a few displays outside, one of which was a life size woman in a swim suit and cap that looked like she was sitting on the edge of a pool. It looked so realistic that I half expected it to move, and the close I go the more real she looked. The recent rain made it look even more realistic, and the wisps of hair blowing in the wind were tripping me out. I’m in awe of that talent. How does someone do that?! As I got close to take a look taylor went “AH!” Like trying to scare me and everyone around laughed haha I guess pranking is a universal language too! - This one shop looked like a promising chocolate shop so side stepped into it and pulled taylor in with me. We were enthusiastically greeted and promptly given about 4 different samples of candy. One was dark chocolate covered orange peel, then dark chocolate covered almond, a hard candy with melon liquor, and the absolute best lemon cookie I've had in my life. It was like god himself made that cookie. It had this tiny cream center and I had to really talk myself out of buying a box. But the €8.50 price tag was enough of a deterrent. - Not sure what it is about this town but they had soooo many mascaraed shops with hand painted paper mache masks, wall hangings, ornaments, you name it. They were elaborate and intricate and expensive but we had fun gawking over them! - Taylor was dragging big time when we were heading back, asking me how I was still going so strong. We decided we needed to stop for food and looked at about 10 different places before deciding on one. We chose it for its prices and learned we shouldn’t do that anymore. The ambiance was, well, pretty bad and the service was subpar. Compared to the place we had passed this one wasn’t nearly as enjoyable to sit in. The food was stellar though, oh wow. The best pesto I’ve ever had in my life. It tasted/smelled like they went out back and had picked fresh pesto right before cooking it–wouldn’t at all surprise me to hear this was the case. But taylor and I vowed not to cheap out anymore because in the grand scheme it’s only a few euro difference and the ambiance is pretty memorable.

Around 9:00 we got back on the water taxi and headed back to Murano and it was nice to have a few hours to decompress. All that walking caught up to us and just laying in bed was incredible. We ate leftover pizza and went to bed. Eating carbs all day, I think we’re doing this Italy thing right :p