#honestly it’s a Christmas Miracle���️ that I managed to get this done in time

[woaaahh-itz-caam]

here have a thing bcuz it’s xmas or smth!! :3

click for better quality bcuz tumblr hates it apparently

[macabrebatz]

O, Christmas Tree

(Art the Clown/Reader)

GIF by junkfoodcinemas

Author’s Note: Me? Writing?? In 2024? Who would’ve ever guessed?

Notes/warnings: Fluff, reader has anxiety about living with Art, set in early December, Christmas fluff but it’s not Christmas yet, canon typical violence is briefly mentioned, gender neutral reader, are they roommates or lovers? that’s up to you

Word count: 1,121

Art had always been a strange individual. But for the past week, his behavior had shifted. He stayed in his workshop and had been adamant about keeping you out. It was a normal occurrence for Art to disappear for hours at a time but locking himself away from you was new. And it was concerning.

It was already a miracle that Art hadn’t killed you the second he met you. It was even more of a miracle that you’ve managed to stay alive and at his side for months now. You were thankful that he seemed to take a fascination towards you but this new behavior made you think that your luck might just be running out.

You made your way out of your home and walked towards the workshop. At one point it was merely a detached garage that you used as a glorified storage unit. But when Art came along you figured you’d let him have the building to work in. You weren’t using it anyway. Now it was his space for making all types of nasty weapons.

“Art?” you called out, knocking on the door of his workshop.

You could hear shuffling in the workshop and then silence. You knocked again, quieter than before.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you said.

There was no response, no shuffling. Nothing.

You sighed, turning away from the door. As you began to walk away there was a tiny creak. You turned to see Art sanding at the door, arms crossed with a blank expression on his painted face.

“Art, are you okay? I feel like these past few weeks you’ve been kind of dis-“

You were abruptly stopped. Art’s finger pressed against your lips as he silently shushed you. His blank expression turned into a smiling grin.

You attempted to speak again, but he pressed his finger a bit harder into your lips.

You took the hint, nodding your head. He took his finger away and then took your hand, leading you back into your living room. He gently pushed you down to the couch and gestured for you to close your eyes, putting his hands up to his own face to demonstrate.

You were hesitant. You weren’t too keen on being surprised by Art, because many of his surprises included the missing limbs of people he had killed. Or purposely scaring you. Although you found yourself caring for the clown, living with him in any capacity often came with daily hazards and the occasional heart palpations.

“Ok,” you said, quietly.

You shut your eyes and felt Art grab your hands and bring them up to your face. Whatever he had in store, he really didn’t want you to see it yet.

You heard him walk away and then you were left with silence. Minutes passed and you were beginning to get worried. You were becoming increasingly anxious and nervous, afraid that this was going to be one of those elaborate moments that he suckers you in just to make you jump out of your skin for his amusement. Or even worse…

No, you didn’t want to think about that. Surely if the clown had intended on killing you he would’ve already done it. Yes, surely that was the case.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you heard the sound of something dragging across the hardwood floor of your home. Your mind went to dark places, assuming the worst.

Art was moving around, you could hear him doing something although you had no clue what.

More time passed and you were starting to get stir crazy. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t something that was easily prepared. It was taking so long that you had the urge to whine. The temptation to peek was growing stronger by the minute but you knew better than to look.

“Art, what’s going on?”

You could hear what sounded like metal clanking together and something being stacked. Honestly, you weren’t sure.

Your arms were becoming sore from being in the same position for so long. You could only hope that the wait was going to be worth it.

It had been easily thirty minutes into waiting and you heard the sound of Art walking closer to you. You jumped at the sudden feeling of his hands on yours. He was behind the couch you sat on, his chin rested gently on the top of your head. He slowly moved your hands away from your face. You hesitantly opened your eyes and gasped. One of your hands covered your mouth in disbelief.

In the corner of your living room sat a rather tall black Christmas tree. It was wrapped in sparkly white garland and red ornaments were littered across the branches. Soft white lights were stretching around it, twinkling and illuminating the area. All of that waiting was because Art had been decorating the tree. The sound of metal you heard must’ve been him putting the tree in its stand. And the stacking noises? That could probably be explained by the red and black Christmas presents stacked under the tree.

“Oh my gosh,“ you said, standing up from your spot on the couch.

You couldn’t help but want to take a closer look. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

“You got a Christmas tree? For me?” you asked.

You turned around and another gasp escaped your lips. Art was dressed head to toe in a Santa Claus costume, white hair and all. You had never seen him in anything else other than his clown suit. If he wasn’t in his black and white suit, he would just be naked.

“Art, I don’t know what to say. This is so…sweet,” you said as you walked over to him.

He waved his hand, pretending to make a bashful gesture. It was almost like he was saying, “Oh, this? It’s not that big of a deal.”

But it was to you. Sure, sometimes it felt like you had to walk on eggshells around him. That just came with the territory of being around a murderous clown. But no one had done anything this sweet for you in a very long time.

“Thank you, Art.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled with a big, toothy grin.

“I like this, by the way,” you said, running your hand over the trim of his Santa jacket. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and you giggled.

“By the way, as much as I love this gesture…I sincerely hope there are not any body parts in any of those presents.”

He made another face, almost gleeful.

You could swear you could hear him in your thoughts saying, “You’ll just have to wait to find out.”

[ciaossu-imagines]

finn ames + numbers 5, 10, and 20 from christmas prompt 2

Yay, Finn requests! My love for the Ames brother’s is definitely getting fulfilled, so thank you so much for that 😊

What is their earliest holiday memory? Why does it stick out to them?

Finn’s earliest childhood memory is actually the Christmas right after his parents died. He doesn’t remember much about the holidays they all spent together as a family, but this first holiday without them is something he vividly remembers. He remembers they were in the process of relatives fighting over who would have to take them next, though they were being kicked out of a cousin’s house for reasons Finn doesn’t clearly remember. He remembers being so sad because it meant that Santa would have no way of finding them for Christmas and that there’d be no way that he and Rayne could celebrate Christmas – none of their relatives wanted to house them for the holiday and they were stuck at a group home for orphans while they waited to find out where they’d go next. Finn remembers though, very clearly, Rayne promising him that Santa would always find Finn, no matter what. Not only did Finn wake up to a stocking and a present that year (looking back as a teenager and adult, Finn realizes that a lot of those things were cheap presents, likely shoplifted or regifted from other kids that Rayne would have made trades with), but Finn doesn’t remember a year, even after he became an adult and had long since stopped believing in Santa, where he didn’t wake up on Christmas morning to a stocking have magically appeared overnight and a present from Santa. It’s actually a little disturbing as an adult, because Finn still has, as of yet, discovered how his brother manages to break into Finn’s living space to deliver these, but he prefers to focus on the joy and magic in his brother making that much of an attempt to keep a promise.

Do they cook for the holidays or do other family members cook?

Finn actually really enjoys cooking. It’s something he finds both fun and really relaxing. He’d want the chance to really plan out the whole holiday menu, to dig up both recipes he knows are winners and to dig up and try some new recipes that are both challenging and sound delicious. He wouldn’t be upset with help in the kitchen because he does think things are more fun if done with your loved ones, but I also think he’d get a little nervous and regret his decisions a little with just how horrible in the kitchen some of his loved ones are. He knows his brother makes a pretty decent sous chef and leaving Mash in charge of dessert means that at least they’ll all have good cream puffs, but with friends like Dot, Finn gets a little antsy. He does, even if he has help, want to be the lead cook and to take on most of the work himself though. It’s zen time to him within the hustle and bustle of the holiday and, honestly, he loves the feeling that comes with having Christmas dinner with his loved ones and seeing them all enjoy the wonderful food he’s made.

What is their favourite holiday movie?

I think Finn would enjoy classic holiday movies. White Christmas is definitely a favourite of his, mostly for the music. He also really enjoys the original Miracle on 34th Street. Mostly he enjoys classic animated holiday movies though. A Year Without A Santa Claus is one of his all-time favourite holiday movies and he’ll start humming the ‘Heat Meiser’ song as soon as December rolls around.

[gatheringbones]

[“I managed to get out in three months. While out on parole for Christmas, I begged my father not to send me back. In another of our few tender moments, he caved. And he was the one who went to collect my stuff from this place. He returned so shaken he couldn’t talk about it beyond mumbled regrets. He’d never actually seen the place. These mumblings marked a third tender moment.

I had a reprieve, but not for long. I still hadn’t learned my lesson. The cure hadn’t worked. And I was still under the care of this same shrink, which meant still seeing Beth. I made the same gaff, telling Beth about yet another woman, and again she reported back. My father, having been informed, made his last strategic strike. This time he told the shrink that his sister was manic-depressive, and perhaps I was, too. Eureka, they’d solved it, solved me.

Once more I was called into the shrink’s office. I listened to a masterful pitch for Lithium. He made it sound like a drug addict’s dream. That it would allow me to manipulate my mood at will. Next he described me as a Virginia Woolf type time bomb. I’d certainly kill myself by forty. Now I was some kind of suicidal genius. But through the miracle of Lithium I could be saved. The flattery worked, the pitch worked. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Took another script to the drug store, this time believing in magic.

I didn’t know you needed a blood test for dosage, but presumably the shrink did. For the next ten days I didn’t eat or sleep. No need to, this stuff made me high as a kite. Unlike most actual manic-depressives, I had no experience with mania. And while I’d done speed, of course, and coke, downers were always more my thing. I’d never gone so hyped for so long. You could say my judgment was a bit impaired. This set the stage for the last act.

The shrink suggested I sign myself into a hospital, just for a couple of weeks to stabilize the dosage. Even impaired, I didn’t immediately bite. So Beth was brought in for bait. Unlike me, she’d learned her lesson, was on board this time, though I didn’t know it yet. She coaxed me and I began to waver. I don’t remember why, but I was at my brother’s house when I called her. I do remember I was alone, staring into his kitchen, which had this amazing pile-up of empty Dewars bottles. The same scotch my parents drank by the gallon. The sight of all those bottles seemed to be what made me call.

It was night, a Friday, I think. I know Reagan had just been elected to his first term. Time had passed. I’d later joke it was his election that tipped me over. Beth came and picked me up. Took me to this place. I signed myself in. My parents didn’t even know. The weekend meant two more days of no sleep or food, even so I realized I’d made a mistake, a big one—been duped.

My father bailed me out, took me home. That might have been that, but it wasn’t. I was still on the stuff—the lithium. By now it’d turned me into some punk girl version of Travis Bickle. For reasons I don’t recollect, I was wearing army fatigues, combat boots, and a lot of those heavy silver biker rings. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner. My father and I were watching the news. As my kind of luck would have it, Cambodia, perhaps then still Democratic Kampuchea, was news that night—the Khmer Rouge, Pal Pot, the killing fields—they were dredging it all up again, showing old footage.

That’s all it took. The fuse was lit. The only question now was who’d explode first—me or Dad. I think it might’ve been simultaneous combustion. But he was the one on his feet first. When I hit him, I believed it was self-defense. If I hadn’t been wearing the damn rings, I might not have done damage.

My mother tried to break it up—a first. Somehow she and I wound up on the stairs. But how she fell, honestly I don’t know. I only know I didn’t intend to hurt her. I think I was just trying to get her attention. She wasn’t badly hurt, not physically. But she sat at the foot of those stairs yelling she never wanted me inside their house again. Meanwhile my father was on the phone to the cops—or rather a cop. A friend/employee of his. This guy drove me back to the snake pit. This time they took my jewelry, hell, they took everything. This time they doped me to the gills. This time it was progress when I finally got out of a tiny cell to roam a locked ward with women who’d had lobotomies, and I assure you I’m not exaggerating.

I’ll spare you the gorier details. Things you’d expect but might not believe. After all, nobody believed Martha Mitchell either, at least not until it was way too late to do her any good. So let’s just say that given the condition of the other inhabitants, I was a real find for the night nurse. She made a bundle pimping me to the orderlies. I did eventually engineer my release, aided and abetted by a young woman working in occupational therapy. She was the only person who knew or rather cared that I didn’t belong there. She coached me.

For added insurance I managed to get a guy I knew to come pose as my boyfriend. We went so far as to announce our engagement, and I was released shortly after. At the time I believed the engagement stunt was what cinched it. Now I assume it had less to do with the insurance I’d arranged than with my parents’ Blue Cross, which no doubt had been bilked to the max.

The doctor who released me was the same one who’d been there the night I’d signed myself in. I hadn’t seen him or any doctor since, save the one time he’d called on me to act as playmate for a wealthy woman friend of his who was there taking a much-needed rest from the jet-set. If my whole time there had been like that one week with her—good booze, good drugs, good food, and good sex—I might never have left. But it wasn’t. It was a beautiful fluke amidst grueling ugliness.

As this guy released me, he laughed, even gloated about the amount of Thorazine he’d managed to pump into me. I’d remember the number. Again, I learned from a book that this dose was more than double what was considered safe for an actual psychotic. I got the point. I resolved never again to display an emotion, never again to state an opinion, and never again to fall in love with a woman.

Needless to say, I got away from my family. But I still kept those resolutions for nearly two years. The first two fell away first. The last one was lost to a woman I’ll call Ingrid. And while falling for Ingrid would begin yet another sordid story, it’s the end of this one.”]

heather lewis, from richard nixon and me, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[anime-simp-0]

Hi how are you?? i hope your holidays were great!!

Can I please request prompts 4, 62, 64, 65, and 100 for Izuku?

These are rough times and i can really use comfort from my fav character. Thank you and take care <33

i'm surviving lol i managed to pass my classes this semester and that felt like a minor christmas miracle. hopefully this helps ur holidays <3 also i tried really hard to get this done before new years so i hope you get to enjoy it before then lol #4. "you can't keep doing this" #62. "it's okay to cry..." #64. "talk to me" #65. "look at me--just breathe, okay?" #100. "i adore you"

why did the holidays always have to suck?

i guess it wasn't the holidays as much your family. always giving their imputes. always criticizing. always belittling.

they couldn’t just be happy for you. there was always something you did wrong. first it was you wanting to be a hero. then it was you even thinking you were good enough to be accepted to UA. then it was how you didn’t get first place at the sports festival. then with the summer camp catastrophe, it was how could you possibly let your classmate be taken. honestly it was beyond exhausting. being around them made you physically ill. it didn’t help that your family would get mad when you avoided them. saying you weren’t grateful and disrespectful were the most common remarks.

so, you decided to stay at the dorms for new years. christmas decorations had been replaced the day before with black and gold decor. the entire commons had been flipped into a party room. streamers hung from the ceilings thanks to sero and uraraka and satou had been baking desserts while bakugo owned the appetizers before setting it up all pretty on platers and plates. music had been blasting thanks to jiro and the games had been laid out by denki, kirishima and mina. everyone was bouncing around from the different stations, playing games and grabbing plates of food while jamming out to music.

everything should have been perfect. except for the fact you promised you'd make an appearance at your family new years eve party. one that had officially started two hours ago. you had gotten a few called from your parents but had decided that putting your phone on do not disturb would be the best way to actually enjoy your holiday for a change. tons of memorable moments flashed by, some getting captured in photographs and others alone in memories.

"check your phone!" mina giggled as she turned her screen towards yours, "i just sent you your pics!" on her screen was a picture of midoriya's arms around your waist as he held you from behind, kissing your cheek after winning your teams beer pong game.

you smiled at the picture before pulling your phone out, "thank you!" you signed into your phone and opened the message app without thinking. your first mistake. dozens of hateful messages from your family littered your inbox.

"you're seriously not gonna come?!" "you're so fucking selfish" "literally making this holiday all about you by not coming" "don't ever show your face again if your only gonna use us" "you are such a fucking bitch" "you dont deserve half the shit you've got if this is how you treat your family" "slut" "disappointment"

you froze, completely blindsided by the messages. you turned your phone off quickly, feeling pain in your chest.

midoriya, who had walked away to get you a drink, noticed the change almost immediately, "baby?"

you ignored him, brushing past everyone and quickly walking away towards the garden for some fresh air. the door slammed behind you but that was the last thing on your mind. not when you could feel your eyes watering as the tears started to fall or the tightening in your chest that had you dropping to your knees. you couldn't breathe. every attempt felt like you were trapped in a plastic bag. your nails started to dig into your skin as you clung to everything around you.

everything kept slipping as you fell farther and farther in the darkness in your mind. your body was shaking from the tears that were wrecking you and your fingers had started to draw blood.

then, you felt it. the strong arms of your boyfriend wrapping around you tightly as he pulled your hands from your skin. "it's okay baby, i got you..." he purred softly into your ear as he rocked you both back and forth. he placed his hand gently on your face before turning you towards him, trying to get you to look at him. you pulled your head away and started rubbing your face harshly, trying your best to rub away the tears that had stained your skin. "it's okay to cry..." he put his hand back on your face, this time not doing anything other then letting you feel his touch, "come on baby, please just look at me--just breathe, okay?" his voice was laced with pleading as you slowly turned your face. "good," he smiled softly, trying to encourage you, "good baby." his thumb stroked the side of your face as he looked into your eyes, "talk to me..."

you shook your head quickly, pulling away from him and trying to push him away. he didn't let that happen though. instead, he tightened his grip even more, forcing you to remain against him. "y/n," he spoke sternly. he rarely ever used that tone on you. the last time he had it was because you hurt yourself in training for him and let's just say the talking to he gave you made you regret it more than the annoyed looks from aizawa and recovery girl combined. you stopped fighting after a couple seconds, accepting that you were going to win this fight and laid back into his arms. "y/n, you can't keep doing this. i need you to talk to me. i can't help if i don't know what's wrong."

you tried one, two, then three times, desperate to get the words out, but all that happened was more tears and ore frustration on your part. eventually, you just pulled out your phone and held it up in front of him. he gave you a confused look, "the pictures mina sent?"

"no," you huffed, biting your lip. a part of you was scared. what if he believed them? if he stopped caring about you? if he had been lying and it was all just a game? i mean, come on, who could possibly like you enough to date you? he glanced back at the phone before putting in your password. one that made him smile every time. the day he asked you on a date for the first time. the day you officially started dating. he had flashbacks to the way you smiled under the lights as you walked the streets of japan. his chest burned at the thought. now, here you were in tears, shaking so badly he could barely keep you still and with blood bubbling at the marks your nails had left. how could he let it come to this?

the second those number were entered, your screen assaulted him. "what the fuck" was all he growled. the things written were so volatile that he could feel OFA started to spark in his veins. his hand started to bawl as he one holding your phone nearly cracked the screen. "who the fuck thinks they get to talk to you like that?" there were very few times izuku 'deku' midoriya cursed, one of which was when he flew head first into a building using his quirk and yelled 'shit' so loud bakugo was rolling on the ground laughing while everyone else was making pikachu faces. but in that moment, he looked at you with such an anger, you forgot how to think. did it really bother him that much what they had said to you? did he really think they were out of line?

"izuku," you reached for your phone, not expecting him to jerk it away from you.

"i asked you a question, i want an answer," he glared. your heart skipped a beat in your chest. "because you better tell me the labels in your contacts are wrong and your family doesn't actually treat you like this..." you sat in silence for a moment, turning your gaze from him to the ground. that simple action was all it took for him to put your family on his shit list. he took a few breaths to calm himself down, your fingers brushing across his arms that held you made that easier then it would have been otherwise. because at least you were here. and not with those bastards. he sighed before pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, "fuck them." you turned and gave him a surprised look, "we are gonna go back inside and enjoy the rest of the party, yeah? and we can deal with them in the morning."

"okay," you sniffed, rubbing a few stray tears off your face before going to stand.

"nuh-uh," he pulled your back down, "not yet. if those damn pictures mina got caused all this then they better at least be good."

you giggled and watched as he opened mina's texts. pictures of midoriya and you throughout the night filled the messages, all clearly showing the love you have for each other. some pictures you were aware of, others you were shocked she managed to get. like ones of him spinning you around when your favorite song came on, or one where you could see him watching you from across the room with heart eyes. we both smiled as you went through the pictures, the tears the earlier being stripped away and forgotten about.

in sat for a few more moments before mina messaged you, everything good? it's 11:53 and you guys are still outside...

"shit," you and midoriya muttered in unison before he helped you up. you both shuffled back into the party. a few people asked you both if everything was okay but you both just played it off as getting overheated. luckily no one seemed to want to push the topic anymore.

if felt like it was only seconds ago you had come back inside, yet the close read 11:58. midoriya was right by your side as your friends partnered up with their special someones. that didn't seem to stop the excitment that spread around the room while all the girls giggled about celebrating the new years all together.

like a family...

the thought almost made you cry. but not because it reminded you of what had happened. because it reminded you that this had been the best holidays you had ever celebrated. surrounded by people that cared for you in ways it seemed your own blood could never. over the months you had been stuck with these idiots, you had grown to not only respect them, but love them. for every flaw. for every poor decision or ick that used to annoy you. you had discovered a group of people that would put their asses on the line for you in a heartbeat. guys that would take bullets for you and treat you like blood. these people that become more than just your best friends.

they were your family.

your chosen family.

and frankly, that mattered a hell of a lot more then blood. you smiled as your eyes started to water again and midoriya turned your face towards him, "what's wrong?"

you shook your head softly in his hand as you looked down at his lips, the sound of your friends counting down surrounded you, "im happy..."

"bet i could make it even better..." he smirked as he leaning into you.

3...

2...

1...

"happy new year!"

his lips met yours in a way you hadn't felt before. something intoxicating and possessive. in a way that lay claim to your skin and took the air from your lungs. when you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"i adore you..." he whispered softly in the chaos of the room, "god, i... i'm inlove with you..."

[earlgreyinpajamas]

00q fic recs: bamf!q

an extra long post because i have been on a bamf!q binge

1. the guardian of progress by thestalwartheart (@thestalwartheart)

Bond runs his hand over the lock of the gun case. “It’s the best thing they’ve done in decades, making you Quartermaster of this place.”

-----

A re-imagining of SPECTRE in which Q comes up against the perils of Smart Blood and the workplace politics of being the youngest Quartermaster in history.

~~~

honestly q being a fantastic quartermaster is just mwah. the way he takes on responsibility and looks out for his agents and doesn’t crumble no matter what just makes me feel so much respect and admiration i cannot

2. We're the Smoke Where There's Fire by Only_1_Truth

Q's world gets turned upside-down when MI6 decides that they want to recruit him. As a uniquely powerful magic-user, Q can usually handle himself very well, but will he stand a chance when it's just him against multiple highly-trained MI6 agents tasked to bring him in?

All Q knows is that this is going to end in flames - and that's before another stranger gets thrown into the equation.

~~~

i have no idea how i managed to go this long without reccing this author’s bamf!q fics but ngl each and every au they have features bamf!00q and i am here for it ++ superpowers??? yes???

3. Noster nostri by Only_1_Truth

What if Q didn’t run away - what if he was disowned? What if Q had time to learn glyphs - and applied them to something else? What if instead of becoming a hooker, Q became a Summoner?

(Set in the same AU as Part 1 of this series, "The Magic of Christmas," this story follows the same world-logic - but can be read as a stand-alone.)

~~~

q being a bamf magic man is such a guilty pleasure of mine + demon!bond is chef’s kiss

4. Sleep When We're Dead by Only_1_Truth

Bond has been kidnapped and tortured before, but this is the first time he's been with Q, and they've both taken the fall when a mission went wrong. Caught with no hope of rescue in sight, Bond realizes how terrifying it can be when villains go for the weakest link... and that weakest link isn't you.

~~~

q withstanding torture like a tough cookie is such a yes and bond beating ppl up for hurting q is also such a yes

5. Blue-Eyed Monster by Only_1_Truth

Yes, this version of 007 was a terrifyingly smart agent, and M wondered long and often whether it had been a good idea to promote him to the position. Usually, the title was the dangerous part - being 007 meant deadliness - but this time, M feared that a certain man with ice-blue eyes and scruffy blonde hair had dragged in more danger to the title than it had previously possessed

Enter MI6's new Quartermaster: an unassuming, bespectacled genius with no mind for subterfuge but plenty of genius behind a dry smile. Curious 00-agents and young boffins don't always mix in predictable ways...

~~~

q holding his own against bond!1!1!1!!1!

6. this madness of miracles (escaping the burning wait) by Rosslyn

“Oh shut up,” Q snaps, irate. “Don’t doubt me. I can think of forty-seven ways to fix this, just off the top of my head. Get off the island.”

~~~

q being the boss? yes

[vinkunwildflowerqueenupdates]

A Year Ago Today

If you follow me here, you probably know that I'm working on a Christmas fic right now. You may also know that this was something I've been working on for a year, and was originally intended to be written for Christmas 2021.

And then right after I had the idea (in August), I bought a house. Which changed my plans, because I had limited time due to packing and everything that goes into buying a house.

You may also know that the other thing that happened during that time was that I injured my back. Bulging Disc.

Well, that was a year ago today.

And because my anxiety-ridden brain loves to dwell on these things, I decided to write it all out as best as I remember it. Which is messy. But it did make me feel better.

So, here it is:

My back hurt. The spot right in my lower back where your back meets your hips, right alongside either side of my spine (in between L5 and S1 vertebrae if you wanna be technical and know your spine quite well. I did not yet. I just knew that was The Spot Where It Hurt).

Which was nothing unusual. It’s hurt since I was eighteen (I was thirty-one at this time). And I’d spent the past days and weeks packing and moving boxes full of my life to the new house. Of course it hurt. (Yes, I’d had movers do most of it, but I’d still done the majority of the packing and there were some boxes and things that I didn’t trust to the movers). 

But now it was done. All the boxes were moved into the new house, the important things were unpacked- kitchen, books, DVDs. The latter two may not seem important to most people, but when you have twenty-two boxes of books (the movers said it was the most boxes of books they’ve ever moved and I was quite proud), and three or four boxes of DVDs (yes, I still have DVDs), unpacking them clears a lot of space.

I’d survived another week at work, going home each afternoon and unpacking more boxes until I couldn’t handle moving any more and then retreating to the couch. I’d already decided to give myself the weekend off from unpacking this weekend, just to rest.

“A whole day in bed only getting up for food or the bathroom will just give my back a chance to rest,” I’d decided. 

So that’s what I did on Saturday. 

On Friday night, I’d moved my laptop and my little portable laptop table upstairs and didn’t get up except for food or the bathroom. Or to heat up my heat bag. Which despite having a TV in my bedroom and doing much the same things I would be doing downstairs sprawled on the couch, was super boring. 

When I woke up on Sunday, I was bitterly disappointed that my day of rest had not magically cured my back pain. 

My next hope for a miracle cure was a hot shower. Just standing there beneath the hot water. I don’t remember if I attempted to wash my hair or not. I know I didn’t try to shave my legs- I’d done that on Friday night in the shower. It hurt to bend over, so I’d had the bright idea just to squat and shave my legs that way. Which worked until it hurt too much to stand, and there was nothing in my shower I could grab to pull me up. 

I’d honestly thought that I’d have to crawl out of the shower on my hands and knees to the toilet and use that to get myself up. Luckily, I managed to stand eventually. I don’t remember how now. 

So I wasn’t going to attempt that again. 

I got out of the shower and got myself dressed slowly. Putting pants on also was a thing, because raising my knee to my chest hurt. I don’t remember the Before, but I know After the only way for me to get pants on was to lie on my back and put my pants on that way, like some kind of weird turtle. For some reason, it didn’t hurt to raise my knee while lying on my back, only when standing or sitting. 

I decided that I was bored with bed, and that Sunday’s rest could be accomplished downstairs on the couch. Easier access to the kitchen. 

I’d made the trip with the laptop and laptop table upstairs on Friday night in one trip, so I assumed the return trip could also be done only in one trip. The laptop table was on the floor, laptop on top, so I knelt down to lift it.

And then there was Pain. 

Blinding, hot, white pain in all directions from The Spot in my back. It reached all the way up to my arms- to the point that I dropped the laptop table because I couldn’t grip it with my hands. I remember just praying that I hadn’t broken the laptop, because I did not have the money to replace it just now, not to mention everything I would lose on it, if I had (the laptop is fine, just FYI). 

A note I didn’t mention is that I’d bought a new bed for the new house, but it hadn’t arrived yet (Fun Fact: it would not arrive until February. It was November). So I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. 

Upon which I now fell like I was a stunt person diving into a crash mat. My whole back was spasming, and I was seeing black spots. 

I lay there gasping for breath and taking slow and steady breaths, hoping I wasn’t about to either pass out (given that I live alone and have never passed out before) or throw up (because that is just very unpleasant and I wasn’t sure how I’d make it to the toilet for that). 

I only knew two things then:

This was not my normal back pain.

Something was very, very wrong. 

I eventually got up. I feel like I might have tried to get up and had another spasm, I don’t remember now. I do know that when I did get up, I had to be on my stomach and then get up onto my hands and knees and somehow stood up that way. 

I made my way slowly downstairs, got down onto the couch and then realised that I didn’t think I’d be able to get up again. 

I debated whether or not to call an ambulance. But I didn’t feel like this was an emergency enough for that. 

So I called a colleague who lives a few streets away, who I didn’t think would mind coming to help me. But she didn’t answer. 

So I called my friend, who I work with but lives on the other side of town, some 30-40 minutes away depending on traffic. She answered and said she was just wrapping Christmas presents. 

Me: (paraphrasing because I don’t remember my exact words) Can I ask a big favour? I’ve done something to my back, and I can’t really move and I don’t think I can drive myself to the hospital.

Thankfully, she and her partner came ASAP.

The hospital is like a five minute drive from my house (another reason I wasn’t super keen to call an ambulance; even for that small a distance, the ambulance bill is a few hundred dollars. I do have ambulance cover in my health insurance, but still… I could move. So, I could get to the hospital myself- well, almost by myself. Inconveniencing my friend seemed the better option than inconveniencing the paramedics, who may be needed at an actual emergency, right?). 

I couldn’t walk very fast and bending down hurt, but we got me into the car. I needed help putting on my seatbelt because I couldn’t turn, nor could I reach out to pull the door closed.

I can’t really describe the pain succinctly that I felt from sitting down just for that five minute drive. It was kind of a pressure in The Spot, one that radiated down into my legs and also up. But it also kind of felt like a lock, like the spine was locking into place. It got heavier the longer I sat, until I was sure that if I sat any longer, I’d no longer be able to get up. 

Getting into the hospital was fine. I walked slowly. Although I remember my foot catching slightly on some uneven pavement and I stumbled and that was a sharp jolt up my spine. 

The triage nurse invited me to sit when it was my turn, and I had to say “no, I can’t.”

It was a wait of… maybe an hour? I don’t know. Long enough for me to feel bad that my friends were giving up their Sunday to sit with me. I think I offered to let them go, if they wanted but they stayed (in hindsight, thank God they stayed). The triage nurse did bring me some pain meds, but I didn’t feel like they did much and so I stayed standing. 

I didn’t sit again until I got in to see the doctor. I told him everything, and he said it was a muscle spasm. 

“Rest. Heat. I’ll give you a script.”

It didn’t feel like a muscle spasm, but I am not a doctor, so what do I know? 

I was only sitting for a minute or two by then, but once he left to get me the meds, I had to stand. Again, it was that feeling of “If I don’t stand right this minute, I’m not going to be able to get up.” Getting up wasn’t easy, but I did it. 

I went back to my friends and told them, so we decided to swing by the shop to fill the script before returning home. Again, the shop is a maximum five minute drive from the hospital and my house. When I can move, I’m able to walk it in 20-30 minutes. 

But by the time we pulled up to the front of the building (it was decided to drop me off before parking the car, because the parking spots are not the widest and it was a busy spot, my back was on fire. 

I have no idea how long we sat there, but eventually I managed to kind of sideways shuffle out of the car. There was a safety pole nearby (pictured above) and I kind of fell onto it, because I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t straighten up. 

It was the end of November, so it was warm but not quite summer yet. I was wearing thin sweatpants, a long sleeved t-shirt and a light cardigan. And I felt so warm, standing there hunched over that pole and I was seeing spots again. I remember staring at the concrete floor and just wanting to lie down on it- not a thought I regularly have about a dirty floor outside. 

My friends got me a shopping cart to lean on, and we headed (well, shuffled) inside. I couldn’t do more than shuffle. I think we got about thirty feet inside? And I just couldn’t walk anymore. 

My local shops, rather than hard benches, have soft ottomans in the middle of the aisles for people to sit on (pictured above) . There was one right near us, and it looked comfy. I worked out that I could shuffle sideways with a lot less pain, so we did that while we waited for the ambulance to arrive and managed to lie on it. Which helped a lot with the pain. 

When the paramedics arrived, they gave me one of those green whistles, which has Penthrox in it (drugs. Good drugs). I’ve seen them used on those TV ambulance shows and Bondi Rescue, and I’d seen people get all relaxed and kinda high on them, so I trusted that they worked. To be honest, I don’t remember feeling much of a difference. 

But they got me onto the stretcher and then into the ambulance. Every jostle hurt my back. 

To be honest, the ER wasn’t that much more helpful this time than they’d been half an hour earlier when I’d left. I saw the same doctor, and it was clear that he still thought it was a muscle spasm. But because I could not move, they couldn’t send me home this time. 

So they gave me pain meds. Really good pain meds. 

By that night, I could gingerly roll onto my stomach, but I couldn’t get onto my hands and knees. 

There were no beds available in the ward, so they moved me to the maternity ward for the night. The best night sleep I had in the hospital, honestly. 

I feel like the story gets quite boring from here, to be honest, so I’ll sum it up pretty quick. Hospitals are very boring places. And I was in a room with people who were also in pain and made a lot of noise (I am a “suffer in silence” type for the most part). They were very concerned about my bladder (because you know, back injuries), but because I couldn’t get up to use the bathroom, their next idea was a bedpan. 

This next part may be TMI, but the point of me writing this is to demonstrate what this was like, so… yeah. Otherwise, skip this paragraph. First of all, lifting my hips to get the bedpan underneath was hell. My right hip felt like… you know when you fall asleep on your hand or something and it goes numb and you can’t move it? It was like that. Except it wasn’t numb, because I could feel it. It just didn’t want to lift when my brain told it to (For the next two months if I wanted to roll onto my left side, I had to put my hands under my right hip and physically lift it myself). The bedpan was a no-go (apparently not uncommon in people my age) so the next step was a catheter. Also super fun and not mortifying at all. 

On Monday, when I still couldn’t move, they said they’d give me an MRI the next day. So I didn’t do much on Monday. They had me on endone, which made my head all fuzzy, so I probably dozed most of the day. Maybe read (thank goodness for my Kindle app). The thing about hospitals is that it’s a very lonely place, despite you constantly being surrounded by people. And the timing of my injury (ie. the end of the school term) meant everyone I know in town was busy and burnt out, so I felt bad asking anyone to come visit me. I’d kinda hoped my parents would offer to come down and see me, but they didn’t. And to be fair, I didn’t ask them. Mostly because if they’d said anything but “yes” I would have broken down, and I was doing an excellent job (I felt at least) at holding myself together. 

Tuesday I had the MRI, and shock horror- it wasn’t a muscle spasm. It was a bulging disc, between my L5 and S1 vertebrae. Pictured here (note- the pic isn’t my actual spine, it is from Google. Because no one in the past year has ever thought I should be able to see my own injury, apparently. But it’s the same injury in the same spot). Where the black bit in between the vertebrae has bled out into the light grey bit? Yeah, it’s not supposed to do that. 

So that explained all the pain. The hospital physio came and saw me and said that this is pretty common injury, no reason I shouldn’t recover fully, but also that it could cause problems further down the line, namely if I ever get pregnant. So yeah… another reason I won’t be doing that. 

By Wednesday I was able to stand. Kind of. Slowly and it hurt, and I needed help, but the physio was able to get me on my feet briefly. The thing I learned then was that it was easier for me to get up when the bed was high, but much easier for me to get down when the bed was lower. I don’t know why, but there’s probably a reason for it. I already knew that any adjustments to the bed had to be done slowly- we learned that the hard way, after several nurses tried to help by adjusting the bed to either sitting up or lying down. I got out of hospital on Thursday, once I could stand and walk well enough that I could take care of myself at home (namely, getting up and down stairs and in and out of bed).

I had some very helpful friends from work who helped me with things at home- groceries, errands, etc. I needed help to do laundry, because I couldn’t lift the hamper, nor could I bend down to get the clothes out of the washing machine once they’d been washed and hang them out on the clothesline. Colleagues and friends who are willing to help you do laundry are the real MVPs. 

Christmas was the other worry. My family lives 3-3.5 hours from me, and Christmas is always held at my sister’s place. I’d missed Christmas in 2020 because of COVID, so the idea of missing another family Christmas wasn’t ideal. When I originally mentioned this to my parents, they said “you’ll just have to drive really slowly and take a lot of breaks. So maybe it will take you six hours instead of three.” I wasn’t keen on that idea, especially because my right leg and hip was an especially painful area. I mentioned it to my doctor, and she said “you should not be driving anywhere that far right now. As a passenger with lots of breaks, maybe. Not as a driver.”

And my parents’ response to that was “oh, well I guess we’ll have to sort something out then” and when I suggested it might just be easier for me to stay home, then guilted me for not coming home for Christmas “again”. It was eventually decided that my dad would drive down and collect me and then drive me back home after Christmas. 

I was only home for a few days, and my family also made me feel bad about how short my stay was. But, my brother and one of my sisters both live at home, so when I visit my parents I sleep on the couch in the sunroom and my brother has a dog who loves to jump on people. Neither of these things are great with a back injury. 

With a bulging disc injury, the main thing for recovery is time. Which I am not great with. I started physio on my back in January, and finished in July- at least for now. I ended up seeing a new physio for this. I’d been seeing one (for a different issue), but she went on maternity leave at the same time this happened, and her replacement… I saw her three times between leaving the hospital and Christmas, and she wouldn’t touch my back and just talked a lot about how pain was mostly in our heads and was tied to our emotions. The third time, it was a bad day and all she kept telling me was to sit with the pain and breathe through it. Screw that. 

I did a Google search and found another local physio who did remedial massage, who miraculously had an appointment free the next day. I saw her, shuffled into the room and she took one look at me and said “yep, it’s your sciatica.” She gave me a massage and at the end, I could actually walk out of the room, almost normally. She recommended another physio in the practice who could help my injury, and that’s who I saw for the next seven months. 

I wore heels for the first time in September and could have cried because it felt normal (although I was very careful). My back still gets stiff and tight a lot quicker than it did, especially if I’m sitting for long periods or walking for long periods (but it did that before too). I think I’m more just aware of it all now. 

Anyway, if there’s any point to this story beyond explaining what happened to me, it is to really appreciate your lower back and be very careful when lifting things. Trust your gut when your body tells you something isn’t right, something isn’t normal. 

[morganaspendragonss]

life is a series of narrow escapes

my @911giftexchange submission for @whenshereads! sorry for the wait, i hope you've had amazing holidays and that you enjoy this!

title from wires by sleeping at last

ao3 | 1.5k | sick tk, angst with a happy ending, infection

TK is stumbling by the time he makes it home. His shift had been long, filled with mostly run-of-the-mill calls, but they had been non-stop, and he, Tommy, and Nancy had barely seen the inside of the station for the entire twelve hours. He’s bitterly jealous of the fire crew, who had a much easier time of it, but at least they had the decency not to make any jokes.

TK barely has the presence of mind to kick his shoes off before he falls into bed. He’ll regret not changing in the morning, but his eyelids are losing the battle to stay open, and there’s no way he’s going to get back up now he’s down. His right arm is trapped beneath his body, so, with a huge effort, TK manages to free it, only for a bolt of pain to shoot sharply through him.

Right.

He’d forgotten about that.

A messy car crash first thing this morning had somehow led to TK earning a nasty gash along his arm, which had only received a cursory cleaning and bandaging due to the number of patients they had. He’d honestly meant to take care of it properly when they got a minute, only… Well, that minute never came, and he’d just kind of forgotten.

Now, he can feel the bandage catching on the sheets as it starts to unravel, the rush job he’d done it refusing to hold up for much longer. TK knows he should get up and deal with it properly, but he’s just so tired.

He’s survived this long, right? He can manage a few more hours until he’s had enough sleep that his vision isn’t blurring any longer.

It’ll be better that way anyway. Less chance of him fucking it up. So TK shifts his weight away from his arm and allows sleep to finally drag him away.

*

When he wakes, it’s still dark, and the blankets feel like they’re suffocating him. TK kicks out, movements sluggish and uncoordinated, only to shiver violently as soon as the blanket falls away.

His arm throbs in time with his heartbeat and his heart feels liable to explode with the speed it’s beating at. Distantly, TK is aware that this is bad, that something’s wrong, but he can’t piece two thoughts together long enough to work out what.

He sits up, swaying, and blindly throws his arm out in search of his phone. By some miracle, he finds it, but the brightness of the screen mixed with his blurring vision renders it useless. Blindly, he thumbs at the controls, but TK has no idea what he’s doing, and, without even thinking, he finds himself standing up on unsteady feet.

The bathroom, he thinks. He has to get to the bathroom. Why, he doesn’t know, but one problem at a time.

He breathes in deep, wincing as a loud whining erupts in his ears, then takes one step forward.

TK wobbles in place for a moment, and briefly he feels secure enough to attempt it again.

But then his vision turns to static, and he only has time for a brief moment of realisation before his knees buckle and the world goes dark.

*

Carlos thinks he should stop trying to measure the most terrifying moment of his life. Between TK’s shooting and TK’s kidnapping and the house fire and the incident with the frozen lake and the crash at their wedding and his father’s heart attack last year and—

Well. It’s tough competition.

But, among all of them, he thinks tonight might have a strong case for the title. Arriving home to find TK passed out in a heap on the floor, a high flush on his cheeks and skin burning to the touch, hadn’t exactly been the evening Carlos had been expecting.

It’s been four days since it happened. The room has been sparsely decorated for Christmas, and there’s soft music echoing down the hall from the cafeteria, but they do nothing to distract from the monitors beeping out their steady rhythms or the ventilator as it pushes air into TK’s lungs. Carlos wishes he could block it all out—the music, the lights, the machines, the situation—but he fears to even attempt to forget, even for a moment.

A moment would be all it takes, after all, for TK to lose the fight.

Even before the doctors had even come up with their diagnosis of septic shock, Carlos had buried himself in webMD, and now he can’t get what he’d read out of his head.

30-50% hospital mortality rate.

May cause lung, brain, or heart damage.

High risk of post-sepsis syndrome.

It went on, and on, and there’s no bright side to be found as he watches the artificial movement of TK’s chest for the fourth day in a row.

Christmas was two days ago. All told, it wasn’t an important Christmas for them; they’ve been married for four years now and together for six, so the excitement of spending the holidays together has worn off slightly. They didn’t have any special plans, and Gwyn and Isaac were staying in New York with Enzo’s family, so they didn’t even have to think of ways to entertain a preschooler.

It was supposed to be a quiet few days for the two of them, not… Not this.

But here they are.

Or, here Carlos is.

TK… Wherever he is, whatever he’s dreaming about, Carlos hopes that he's happy. If this is the end, like the doctors seem to fear, the last thing he wants is for TK to be in pain.

*

“How are you doing, kid?”

It’s New Year’s Eve and, though midnight is still some hours away, fireworks are already lighting up the sky outside the hospital. Carlos sighs and turns away from the window so he’s facing Owen, sitting on the other side of TK’s bed.

He shrugs. “Hanging on.”

Owen nods. “Me too,” he says quietly, reaching out to brush his hand through TK’s limp hair. The sight sends a pang through Carlos’s heart and he looks away again, watching a spark fizzle out in the air.

“Are your parents still hosting the party at the ranch?”

Carlos barely suppresses a groan at Owen’s question. It’s like this every time he comes to the hospital—Owen can’t stand silence, so he just talks and talks, apparently oblivious to Carlos’s desire to keep his vigil in peace.

But he doesn’t have it in him to ignore his father-in-law, so he shifts in his chair and nods. “Yeah. they offered to come down here and leave everyone else to it, but I told them not to. It’s not like there’d be any point, and better some of us have some fun, right? With how big my family is, they probably won’t even miss us.”

Owen frowns disapprovingly. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mutters. “It was nice to pretend.”

It comes out harsher than he meant it, and Owen winces visibly. “Sorry. I’ll just… You want some coffee? I’ll get some coffee.”

Carlos should tell him to stop. He should tell Owen that he’s sorry and he appreciates him being there. If nothing else, he should tell him that he doesn’t think he could stomach coffee right now so he doesn’t waste his money.

But Carlos is selfish sometimes, so he doesn’t say anything.

Only, when Owen is gone, the silence is more oppressive than ever, and Carlos feels ready to crawl out of his skin. The periodic bangs of fireworks exploding make him jump and a new tenseness settles in his every muscle.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he mumbles, shaking his head. His gaze drifts to TK, still sleeping soundly and his jaw clenches. “You hear that? I love you too much to keep doing this, so you’d better hurry and wake up, deal?”

If he’d hoped that would make TK’s eyes open (and maybe a part of him had) then he was disappointed. Carlos sighs and turns back to the window, arms folded on the back of the chair and his head resting on top of them.

He’s not sure how long passes before he hears shoes squeak and suddenly stop in the doorway.

“Carlos,” Owen says, his voice hushed and shaking, though Carlos pays no special attention to it.

“I don’t really want coffee right now.”

“No, Carlos, look.”

And Owen’s tone is urgent enough that Carlos immediately spins, following Owen’s tear-filled gaze down to the bed.

Down to TK, who, for the first time in over a week, is looking right back at him.

He immediately bursts out crying and leans over the bed, running his fingers through TK’s hair. “Oh my god,” he sobs. “Ty, TK, oh my god, thank god, thank god.”

TK’s eyes are cloudy and it’s clear he’s still not fully with them, but he’s awake, which is all Carlos cares about. Even when TK is wheeled off for tests and they’re warned yet again about the complications that may await them, he doesn’t care.

Because, in the end, when midnight strikes and the new year begins, he gets to kiss his husband.

And it’s all he needs.

[datleggy]

Buddie prompt: aggressively pro-buddie Helena and Ramon Diaz, who are ecstatic when Eddie tells them he's dating, and then utterly befuddled when he introduces Ana. But they decide to bite their tongues about it (Buck, their future son in law, has talked to them about respecting Eddie's decisions, however dumb, after all), until Ana (unwittingly? Innocently? No matter) makes a comment about Buck, and then all bets are off.

Hope this inspires you!

Helena is so relieved that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them, that she could cry. She feels awful that it took her so long to realize it. 

It had been on Eddie’s last visit to Texas, when he and his crew had been fighting wildfires, that Ramon--her dense as can be when it comes to matters of the heart husband of all people--had noticed that their son was in love. 

Helena still remembers saying goodbye to her son and his two teammates, remembers Ramon closing the door, waiting exactly all of five seconds before turning to her and saying, “I’m happy for him. He’s so stubborn, I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself get that close to someone again.” 

And Helena had been confused at first, and then even chuckled when Ramon had explained calmly that clearly their son was dating his coworker Buck, until she’d stopped to really give it a moment’s thought. It had hit her all at once, how obvious those two were, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since they’d started dating and why Eddie hadn’t said anything yet. 

She’s seen the photos on Instagram, Helena thinks, as their plane lands. Buck smiling next to her grandbaby after helping her son build him a skateboard he could safely ride in the park. Buck standing shoulder to shoulder with Eddie behind Tia and Christopher in that Christmas photo at the station. The selfie Eddie posted of him and Buck with the giant cast still on his leg the day of the ceremony for when he was no longer a probationary firefighter with the 118. 

Really, she should’ve figured it out months ago. 

When Eddie had called and told her he’d started dating again and that the next time they came to visit he’d make an introduction Helena had been thrilled! 

Ramon drives them from the airport to their son’s place in their rental and Helena rambles on about how she hopes Buck isn’t too nervous to see them again, now that the cat’s out of the bag. 

When they arrive Eddie greets them at the door with a big hug and ushers his parents inside and Helena is so ready to step into the living room and welcome Buck into the family with open arms, to show her son that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they love him and nothing in the world would change that--

Only to be met with....not Buck? 

“Oh,” Helena stops dead in her tracks and Ramon stands beside her looking about as confused as she feels. “Hello.” she smiles politely enough. 

The woman sitting next to Christopher on the couch stands up and she’s absolutely stunning, her curls bouncing on her shoulders when she stands up to exchange hello’s. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name is Ana.” 

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, but Eddie can tell something is amiss the entire time, though he does a good job of hiding it from Ana, who’s her usual charming self through out lunch. 

She has to take a work call at some point and excuses herself to another room and that’s when Eddie turns to his parents and half-whispers. “Ok, I know those looks. What’s wrong?” 

Helena shakes her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what is it? Ana is perfect. She’s incredibly smart, she’s funny, she’s got a great job, good head on her shoulders, and Christopher loves her--so again, I ask, what’s wrong?” 

Ramon follows his wife’s lead. “Mijo, really, it’s nothing. She’s great. We’re happy for you. I think we’re just a little tired from the flight, that’s all.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly but decides there isn’t much sleuthing that can be done at the moment, so all he can do is take them at their word for now. “Fine, if you say so.” 

They’re in the middle of watching Nemo when Buck's name comes up.

"When the tsunami happened Buck and I sang 'just keep swimming' like Dory." Christopher grins up at his dad and Eddie ruffles the curls on his head playfully. It helps Christopher to be able to openly talk about what he went through that day, the good and the bad.

"You never told me Buck was there that day." Ana comments off handedly.

Eddie nods, "Huh, I thought I mentioned it? Buck took him to the pier that morning."

"It was scary but Buck saved me." Christopher tells his grandma, who reaches across the couch to squeeze his arm. Helena had been horrified to hear what had happened at the time; it still gives her anxiety just thinking about it.

"That's right." She says softly.

"I thought some woman you didn't know carried him to one of the tents, and that's how you two were reunited, no?" Ana asks.

"Yeah, but before that, during the initial impact Buck was with Christopher, he managed to get him up to this firetruck in the middle of everything. It was after he dove back into the water to save someone that a second wave came and swept Christopher right off and they got separated from there." Eddie recalls solemnly.

There had been blood running down the dirty wet bandage on his arm, he'd been soaked to the bone, exhausted and barely standing upright. It wasn't until Christopher had been found that Buck had allowed himself to collapse.

"Oh..." Ana frowns.

Ramon puts a hand over his heart and sighs. "It's a miracle, really."

Ana doesn't mean to say it outloud, but the words comes tumbling out of her mouth without warning. "And you're still friends with him?"

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry, really, it's just--I don't understand." Ana rubs her shoulder self consciously, fully aware of the fact that everyone is looking at her. "Look, Edmundo, you nearly bit my head off when Christopher got a skinned knee under my watch but you're still best friends with the man who lost your son for God only knows how long? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Ana knows how overprotective Eddie is of his son, and in fact, that's one of the reasons she likes him so much; she admires that about him and this? It doesn't track with the man she knows.

Helena wants to open her mouth and she say something in defense of Buck--he's a good man, after all. But she knows better than to get between a couple in an argument, especially given how bias she is towards her future son in law...

Instead, she clears her throat and looks at Christopher, "Honey, how about you help me and Grandpa unpack? I bought a lot of fun things from Texas for you."

Christopher doesn't want to go. His Dad looks upset. Ana looks upset. He wants to stay and help. If Ana met Buck she would understand, Christopher's sure of it. But his grandparents are already leading him down the hall and to the guest room.

Christopher hangs out with his grandparents for a few minutes before fibbing and telling them he needs to use the bathroom. They both offer to help him but he insists that he can do it himself, promising to call out if he needs them.

He sneaks the home phone into the bathroom with him and dials a number he knows by heart at this point. He waits a couple of rings before the call connects.

"Hey, what's up?" Buck's voice comes through the other end. He sounds distracted.

"Bucky? Can you come get me?" He whispers into the phone.

He hears a small commotion and then a stifled 'ow!' and then: "Chris? Are you ok? You're home, right? What's wrong? Where's Eddie?"

"I'm home. I'm ok. But--" there's a knock on the door and it startles Christopher into accidentally hanging up the phone before he can explain the situation in it's entirety.

"It was a tsunami." Eddie sighs, "It wouldn't be fair to hold something like that over his head. And look, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face, you don't know how many hours he spent crying out Christopher's name at the top of his lungs, injured and looking nonstop through the rubble for him--"

"Yeah, which he wouldn't have had to do if he hadn't lost him in the first place. It sounds like he was too busy playing hero for strangers to watch your son." Ana folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want to fight. Especially not with your parents here. Honestly, I'm just confused? We don't have to talk about this right now. I can go. I just want to apologize to your parents and Christopher first, before I leave, for," she sighs, embarrassed, "well, for causing a scene. This is not the way I'd pictured meeting your parents."

"You know, if you just met Buck I really think you would--"

A cacophony of knocks at the door make the both of them jump. Ana looks at Eddie. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"Christopher!? Christopher I'm here, open up!"

Eddie gapes. "...Buck?"

"Did you...call him over?" Ana didn't even see him reach for his phone.

"What? No, of course not." Eddie starts towards the door--the knocking has gotten so boisterous he's pretty sure Buck's about to break down his door--but Ana beats him to it.

At this point Eddie's parents and Christopher are in the hallway wondering what all that racket is.

Ana lets the door swing open, and if she's being entirely honest she's not sure what she's planning on saying to the man who's essentially at the center of her first real argument with her boyfriend, but whatever it was, it goes up in smoke when she takes in the sight of him.

Buck is taller than she'd pictured but that's not what's got her speechless.

He's standing at the doorway, chest heaving, clearly having rushed out of his house, where he was very obviously in the middle of shaving, if the shaving cream still smeared on a third of his face is any indication. He's in sweatpants and a white undershirt that's got little drops of blood on the front from where he must have cut himself while shaving. There's a bright red cut running down the underside of his chin.

"Um." Ana can't do much except stare, wide eyed.

Buck blinks at her, "Uh...Ana?" He suddenly realizes all the people in the house behind her are looking at him in a kind of stupor.

She nods slowly. "Buck?"

Buck nods sheepishly, "Uh... So, I am clearly interrupting something here."

"You came!" Christopher moves past all of the adults in the corridor and throws himself at Buck's legs.

Buck lifts the kid up easily enough, crutches and all, "Yeah, about that," he gently pinches his cheek, eliciting a giggle out of Christopher, "What was that phone call all about? You nearly gave me a heart attack, bud."

Eddie groans. "Christopher, did you call Buck to come all the way over here in the middle of the day?" He walks over and uses the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream on the side of Buck's face. The look on his face is fond as he does so. "What did this little menace say to get you over here in such a rush?"

Christopher pouts. "I just told him to come get me. I thought if Miss Ana met my Bucky she'd know how come you're still best friends." He grips at Buck's t shirt tightly. "You can't stop being friends, Dad. I love Buck. He's my friend too."

Buck frowns. "Umm..."

Eddie gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's not--it's complicated. I promise to explain everything later. Right now isn't really a great time--"

Ana interrupts hesitantly. "Actually, now is probably good. I need to get home soon, it's getting pretty late, so I should get going." She turns to Helena and Ramon. "It was very nice to meet you both." She scoohches past Buck and Christopher and practically sprints to where she parked her car, aware of the fact that Eddie is calling out her name and only half a step behind her.

It's not until they're several blocks down the street that she swivels around and he nearly topples into her in his haste. "Ana, please, I don't want you to leave like this. I really didn't call him over." He reaches into his back pocket and shows her his phone. "See?"

Ana takes the phone and presses her lips together thinly. "He called you like twenty times on his way over."

Eddie frowns. His phone must have been on silent. It's no wonder Buck rushed over like he did. "He was just worried about Christopher--"

Ana sighs resignedly. "No, I know. It's obvious, how much your best friend cares about your son. I can see why he's still in your life. And I think I can also see why that means you don't really have any room for me in it..."

Eddie shakes his head. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ana looks him in the eye, intent as can be on reading him. Eddie had smiled so warmly, creating such an unintentionally intimate moment when all he'd done was swipe at the other mans face with his sleeve...

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I think this is something you and Buck need to sort out yourselves. Goodbye Edmundo."

Eddie closes the door behind him as he steps inside, a little heartbroken and a lot confused.

There's noise coming from the kitchen and so Eddie follows it to the source. Ramon is telling Buck about how to sear the perfect steak by the stove while Helena and Christopher set the table.

"Is everything alright?" Helena asks, when she notices him by the entryway.

Eddie nods, lying when he says. "Yeah, all good Mom."

She gives him a knowing look but keeps her mouth shut. "Honey, take Buck here to your room, let him borrow one of your shirts. And maybe a razor?"

Buck chuckles shyly. "It's fine, really. I should probably get going too--"

Ramon shushes him. "Nonsense. Go, go, get changed and get your butt back into this kitchen. Scoot."

Eddie takes Buck by the shoulders and drags him to his room, where he finds a worn gray Henley for him. "Here."

Buck thanks him before stripping out of his white undershirt and throwing on the clean shirt.

Eddie plops himself down on his bed with a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry about all this mess. And on your one day off, too."

Buck sits down beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't really know what's going on but, are you doing ok?"

"I don't know," Eddie makes a face. "I think I got broken up with today."

Buck cringes. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?"

That's a good question. Eddie ponders that a moment. Ana had said it herself: she understood perfectly why Eddie didn't blame Buck for what happened during the tsunami and she had seen first hand how much Buck cares for Christopher for herself today.

So, why?

"She said that there wasn't any room for her in my life?" Eddie scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this dating stuff anymore."

"Aw, c'mon man," Buck pats him on the back. "You fall off the bike you gotta get right back on." He turns his body all the way around so that he's facing Eddie fully. "Dude, you're a catch. You're a handsome, badass firefighter, you've got the best kid, and hey--you got me." Buck grins toothily.

Eddie rolls his eyes, though he can't help but smile. "So what I'm hearing here is that I'm stuck with you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Buck laughs.

Eddie leans back on his arms and looks up at his best friend, pensive. "Promise?"

Buck extends his pinky and wiggles it in front of Eddie, who smiles as he wraps his pinky around Buck's. "Promise."

.

[goddamnitkastle]

Wait For Me

Happy #KastleChristmas! 

Yes, I did wait until the last possible second to post 🙃

And yes, I followed none of the prompt days (I think this falls under frosty friday, tradition thursday, and festive friday?? Maybe?)

Anyway here is a reunion fic, post TPS2. It’s the holidays, Karen is waiting for a package to arrive but Frank arrives instead, and it’s angsty cause of course it is.

Inspiration came from all over this time. It just might be a Christmas miracle that I didn’t find a scenario to rip off and make it Kastle for this fic. Huzzah!

A huge thank you to @evilbunnyking for being my beta reader. You are the best, your encouragement and enthusiasm made this fic happen.

Happy New Year Kastle fam! Here’s to 2022! 

Enjoy! 

“Karen Page, please stop refreshing the FedEx page. Now you’re giving me anxiety.”

Karen looks up from her phone and realizes that Ellison has strolled into her office, papers in one hand and the other hand in his pocket.

“How do you know I was checking for the package again? I could’ve been checking Twitter.” Karen fibs a little too quickly in an attempt to cover her stress.

“You and I both know you don’t do Twitter. Also this package has been the bane of both of our existences since Thanksgiving.” Ellison reminds her, which only adds to her irritation.

“If I knew ordering a case of wine and getting it shipped all the way across the country would be such a process, I think I would’ve just gotten Foggy and Marci literally anything else.”

“And remind me again, this is for their engagement party…?”

“Yes, their engagement party that they are hosting on New Year’s Eve.”

“I am sure it will get here before then.” Ellison assures her.

“It’s not just getting here before the party, Ellison, I have to sign for it - they’re not just going to leave a case of alcohol with my super. And FedEx will only make a certain number of attempts to get it delivered to me, and if I am not able to accept the delivery during any of their attempts they’re going to ship it back…”

Karen knows she is ranting at this point, so it’s a relief when Ellison raises his hand.

“It’ll be fine. And I think I can help you take your mind off of it.”  He says as he shakes the papers in his hand. “Can you look at this last editorial piece? We have to finalize this holiday edition of The Bulletin…”

“Yes, of course.”

Karen gets out of her chair and puts her phone in her back pocket. She follows Ellison to his office but she still can’t take her mind off of that damn package. Nevertheless the rest of her Monday carries on with edits and meetings, and when Karen locks her office for the night, the package remains in transit from Chicago.

…

That night Karen lies in bed, continuously refreshing the tracking page on her phone. She knows better; nothing is going to change in the three seconds it takes for her to press the curved arrow next to the URL, and yet... 

Karen groans in frustration. Snow has begun to fall outside the window. It glistens, each snowflake made of a thousand tiny diamonds illuminated by the street lights on her street. Something about the dim yellow light brings a memory, a flash of a man in black sitting across from her in a diner booth. He’s drinking coffee and giving advice about how to hold on to the people you love with two hands and to never let go of them.

She hasn’t seen Frank Castle since the hospital, when she offered him a way out. A way out of the war he refused to let go of. Why was she even thinking about him? He had made his decision and she was done standing by. He made it clear that there was no after for him and that he would not fight for one. When she walked away, she felt a chapter close.

Or so she thought. Another memory. She came home from work one random day and saw a pot of white roses on her kitchen island. She found a card with a phone number scribbled on it. She knows she should’ve been concerned that he managed to break into her apartment, but then again he did break into her car once so it honestly didn’t phase her.

She added the phone number to her phone under the initials F.C. and ripped up the card. She had thought about reaching out to him on numerous occasions but chickened out every time. 

Maybe it is loneliness. Maybe it is curiosity. Maybe she genuinely just wants to know if he is okay and still alive. It really doesn’t matter in the end. Karen calls the number and is greeted to an automated voice saying to leave a message after the tone.

She doesn’t remember what she says. It was something along the lines of that she hopes that he has found peace and that he is happy.

She goes to bed after that, thoughts of Frank dominating her mind rather than the case of wine and where it may be on its journey.

…

The rest of the week passes in a blur of twinkling lights, red and green swirls, and winter snow constantly in Karen’s peripheral vision. It’s the week before Christmas and there were deadlines to meet for the holiday edition of The Bulletin. It’s ready to go on Friday afternoon, just in time for the office party. Baked goods dominate the kitchen area as cheap wine fills everyone’s plastic cups. Karen dodges away from the festivities in her office and checks the Fedex tracking page for the first time all day.

The package has finally arrived in New York but it is taking its sweet time getting to Queens. The estimated delivery times have come and gone and now this time it is supposedly going to arrive between 4:00 PM and 8:00 PM.

“You can go Page.”

Karen jumps. Ellison has once again gotten the drop on her. He’s leaning against the door frame, shaking his head as he bites into a chocolate chip cookie. She almost wants this package to go missing just so she can get her heightened sensitivity back to normal.

“I’m so sorry, Mitchell. I honestly have not checked all day, I set up notifications to be sent when there were updates, at your suggestion. Which apparently don’t work, because I didn't even see that they have given me a new arrival time frame.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Foggy and Marci are your friends and you want to make sure that they get their gift. Just wanted to say that you did a great job this week. Now go.”

“Thank you - happy holidays!” Karen says as she grabs her purse and her coat. Ellison gets out of her way and then she’s out the door.

“Make sure you text me when the package does arrive, the suspense is killing me,” Ellison shouts to her over a Mariah Carey song. Karen gives a hasty thumbs up and laughs while descending the stairs.

…

Karen is back home in an hour and there is no sign of a FedEx delivery truck anywhere on her street. It is only after 6:00 PM though, so she still has two hours for this package to arrive.

She tries to keep herself occupied. She puts on pajamas, makes herself dinner, puts on a holiday movie with that actress from that popular teen movie, and pours herself a glass of wine. Only fifteen minutes have passed and no ring from her buzzer. She shuts the movie off and refreshes the tracking page on her phone again. Nothing has changed.

“Ugh! Come on!” Karen fumes.

Just then her buzzer goes off. Karen flies off her couch and runs to press the door button. Normally she would have asked who it was but all she could feel was elation that this package had finally arrived. 

“Oh shit.” Karen pats her pajama pants pockets and realizes that she doesn’t have her drivers license. She rushes back to the couch to grab her purse, runs back to the door, and rips it open.

It is not the wine delivery.

“Frank?”

He takes a step back but doesn’t say anything in response. In that moment all Karen does is process the fact that Frank Castle is standing outside her apartment door. His hands are in his pocket and he has grown a beard. He doesn’t look like he’s been in a gun fight and he wears a black coat. It’s a stark contrast to the last time she saw him lying in a hospital bed, handcuffed and still haunted by the loss of his entire world.

“Frank, what are you doing here?” Karen asks, realizing that he still hasn’t said anything.The prolonged pause between them has gone past the point of awkwardness.

“Hi, Karen. Did you, uh, order in?” he finally says. 

“No, I am expecting a delivery. I’ve actually been waiting on this delivery for… it feels like forever. I thought you were… a case of wine.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not.”

“No, you’re not.” Karen confirms.

“May I come in?” he asks hesitantly.

Karen involuntarily tilts her head to the side and lets out a sigh.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you said no. But you did call.”

“Yes, I called and left a message. I just wanted to see…” she starts to confess.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was in Louisiana…” Frank interjects, and Karen would swear that he sounds ashamed.

“Oh God, Frank, I didn’t expect you to come in person. I just thought you would call me back. You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, I did.” he says after a moment.

Karen opens her mouth and then closes it. She steps to the side and opens her  door wider. Frank walks in tentatively. After Karen closes the door and locks it, she approaches Frank.

“Seriously Frank, why did you come here?”

“I had to see you,” he admits quietly. “And ask you in person…”

“Ask me what?”

“Why did you call me?”

The silence hangs between them and Karen struggles to find the words. It was impulsive to call him but she doesn’t regret it. Okay, maybe she does a little bit, given how he is asking her why. Karen then realizes that she’s been here before with him. Last time she was barefoot and he was wearing a hospital gown. His I don’t want to lingers in the back of her mind and every instinct in her wants to shut down.

“I honestly don’t know.” She says eventually. ”The way we left things…” 

“I know. I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again.”

“Is that what you wanted?” 

“I thought it was for the best.”

How does he do that? Continue to put her in a new hell every time they’re together? She knows he feels the same way she does and yet he continues to break her in the name of honesty over and over again.

“For the best? To push away the one person that still cares about you?”

“I did it for you, Karen.”

“Frank do not…” She seethes.

“I had to do it,” he says with a confidence that doesn’t meet his eyes.

Karen rolls her eyes, tucks her hair behind her ears and starts to walk toward the couch. She thinks he’s going to follow but when he doesn’t, she has half a mind to kick him out. She honestly should. Instead she turns around to face him.  

“No you didn’t. I said we could figure it out together. I gave you that choice.”

“Why did you? Why did you offer that choice at all?”

“You’re seriously asking me why?” Karen asks incredulously.

Frank scratches his beard and looks away. Karen braces herself, ready for him to walk away again. It’s what he does, nothing is going to…

“I need to hear you say it.”

Karen’s eyes widen and for a split second, she thinks she can’t do it. She’s still so angry but now he’s looking at her like she is holding his life in her hands. And they both know it, one word from her and she will never see him again.

Many nights have passed where she would stay up and think about what she would say to Frank. It was a moment she thought would never come. But here he is and he’s looking at her, agonized but hopeful. And suddenly, it comes to her.

“Frank… I still feel the same way I did back in that hospital. Back in that elevator. Back by the waterfront. Back in the diner. I really can’t put it into words… the moment I met you I just knew. I knew you were going to be important to me. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know in what way. I love you. It’s that simple. And also difficult. But I want to try. And I think we can make it. So if you came all this way to tell me that you don’t want to for the second time then…”

In two steps Frank closes the distance between them and then his mouth is on hers. He’s cradling her face gently, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pulls back, that soul searing stare of his boring into her. 

“Does that… clear some things up for you?”

Karen doesn’t answer right away. Her chest is tight and yet she feels like she’s flying.

“Yes. However I think I still need some further clarification…”

She reaches for him and crashes her mouth against his. He responds and grips her waist and back fiercely to him. When he pulls back again, out of breath, he rests his forehead against hers. There’s no blood, panic, or a gun in their space this time. Just their warm breath, the hardwood floor beneath their feet, and an ease that Karen has not felt in a long time.

“Frank, what do you want?”

“You. Just you.”

It’s everything Karen wanted to hear. She feels his heart racing beneath her palms and she wants to believe he’s feeling happy but she knows him. Frank is a man who will look for danger first, and he will throw himself in the line of fire if he thinks it will protect the people that he loves.

“I want to believe you, I just…”

She looks at him. Frank brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead. His gaze has softened but when he takes her hand in his, he is holding it like she’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I know. I pushed you away. I was trying so hard to run away from this, and it was because I was scared. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, too. But I’d rather spend whatever time I have left with you, then never see you again. I hope you’ll let me stay by your side. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He kisses her again and she burns, he burns, they burn.

…  

They’re drinking their morning coffee on the couch. Frank only had the clothes on his back but Karen managed to find an old pair of oversize sweatpants for him. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” She asks for the fifth time since they woke up.

“No. In fact your apartment is hot, you got the heat on full blast or something?” He asks in a half serious, half joking tone.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to talk to my super. I don’t pay for heat here…”

Just then the buzzer goes off.

“Is that the case of wine?”

“Oh my God. I think it is.” 

Karen gets up from the couch and presses the door button. A few moments later a FedEx delivery man is in the doorway with a case of wine from a winery in California Marci visited on her 30th birthday. She pushes the delivery aside, breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Was it worth the wait?” Frank asks, emphasizing the wait. He meets her in the kitchen, sets their mugs down on the kitchen island.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” He is in complete disbelief.

“Really.” she echoes, strong and steady.

She grabs the mugs and rinses the remnants of the coffee in the kitchen sink. Frank walks over and wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the crown of her head.

“So… got any plans for New Year's Eve?” Karen inquires, hoping the question lands lightly.

“What did you have in mind?”

Karen smiles, and proceeds to tell Frank about a certain engagement party. Hopefully Foggy and Marci won’t mind that she is bringing a plus one now.

[occult-castiel]

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You ��� you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

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Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[broadstbroskis]

the countdown | kevin hayes

a/n: @hockeynetwork ran another wonderful fic exchange this season! i had the lovely @fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan and one of the questions i asked you was for your favorite tropes. you gave me “families are super close and have a bet going on who realize they are in love with each other first.” this is...not quite that 😂 but similar and i hope you enjoy anyway 💚

8:43 pm

Olivia slams her car door shut and checks her watch, swearing as she jogs around to the passenger side to gather everything she’s brought. Besides her activity ring judging her for not meeting her goal, she’s late and she’s going to take so much shit for that.

She practically jogs to the door (or, well, as best as she can in her high heeled booties), plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies in hand, and then stops abruptly right on the front porch when the door opens before she can do it herself.

There goes her hope of just sneaking in.

It’s Jimmy. Of course, it’s Jimmy, with that classic Hayes shit-eating grin on his face as he greets her, even though this isn’t even his fucking house. “Livvy! Rolling in 45 minutes late even though you’re the closest one here.”

“This is honestly so rude of you.” She complains, even as she pulls him in for a hug. She wouldn’t have expected any less from Jimmy, who gives her just as much shit as her own older brother does and always has, ever since they were all kids growing up together in Dorchester. “This is how you treat me, after I show up here with cookies I made especially for you?”

His eyes light up, like she knew they would, even though they both know they’re not just for him. But her chocolate chip cookies are a big hit with all of them, and instead of calling her out on it, he reaches for the plate. “I’ll just take those from you now; put them somewhere safe.”

Olivia laughs. “Nuh-uh. Lemme in; it’s cold as fuck out here.”

Jimmy finally steps aside so she can follow him in the doorway, and only then does Liv hand him the plate of cookies, so that she can take off her coat, revealing the sparkly tank she’d dragged out of her closet just for the evening. “Where’s the champagne?” She pouts, as he leads her on a familiar route deeper into the house. “You came to greet me at the door and didn’t even bring me bubbly?”

“Kristin probably drank it all already.” He jokes, which is straight blasphemy, because she knows his wife set aside at least two bottles just for the two of them to share the minute she walked in the door. 

“My girl would never!” Olivia says confidently, and sure enough, the second the two of them walk into the family room to join the rest of the families, his wife is holding up two flutes of champagne with a large smile on her face.

“Livvy!” Kristin cheers and Liv finds herself being pulled into the blonde for a hug and a glass of champagne being thrust into her hand before anyone in her own family can even say hello to her. “You’re here, finally.”

“Oh my god!” Olivia takes a sip of her champagne and rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Every person in this room has been more late to something than I am right now! Jack’s never showed up to Thanksgiving on time or without a hangover in his life and nobody says shit!” She deflects to her younger brother, who holds his hands up innocently.

“We’re not talking about me right now, Livvy.” The grin on Jack’s face widens, somehow. “We’re talking about you lying to all of us.”

She’s absolutely taken aback by that because she hasn’t? She’d panicked in the group chat earlier about getting stuck on a call at work, and then stuck in traffic, which set her back getting ready to come over here and meet all of them. She would have been on time. She’s always on time. “What are you talking about?” She frowns, as a tall person drops an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I haven’t lied to anyone.” She looks over at Nolan and pulls a face at him, and then laughs as he deadpans one back to her. 

She’d been sure that her long time best friend’s roommate had hated her when they first met, but Kevin had been quick to assure her that was just how Nolan was. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that was true. Beneath Nolan’s resting bitch face that put hers to absolute shame, was an absolute sweetheart; she hated having to admit she was wrong to Kevin. 

“To anyone?” Jimmy and Mike, Liv’s older brother, are looking at each other with this ridiculous look of both disbelief and mocking. “Not lying about anything?”

“You saw me literally last week?” She addresses her brother. She’d gone home for Christmas; they’d sat with all their cousins at their grandmother’s and had a great time, just like always. “What the fuck are you on?”

“Olivia!” Her mom snaps, half-heartedly, not even looking away from the conversation she’s having with Liv’s dad and Kevin’s parents. 

But Mike merely grins at her. “I don’t know, Liv.” He says, as she’s lifted off the floor and twirled around. “You tell me.”

But she can’t really hear anything he says after that, too busy laughing and shoving at Kevin, trying (unsuccessfully) to get him to put her down. He does, finally, but leaves his arm around her shoulders, even when she tries to shove her shoulders against him in retaliation (a wildly unsuccessful attempt, he goes absolutely nowhere, she really just ends up bringing herself closer to him).  “Here’s my girl!”  Kevin cheers, shaking her enough that she almost spills what’s left in her champagne glass (and she would have killed him for wasting such a commodity). “ I told you to take off today.”

“Ugh, I wish I could have.” Except they have this huge launch in the first week of the year and they’re still putting finishing touches on, so that was absolutely not happening. It’ll be a miracle that they finish on time as it is. She’s going to pop so much champagne once this goes off.

Kevin, who’s definitely familiar with this work project that she’s been bitching about for months now, laughs; he knows she couldn’t take off earlier, even if she’d really wanted too, and he squeezes her shoulders once. “A few more days and you’re done. Forever.” She clinks her glass against his beer in a cheers. Bless. “Thank god.” He continues. “I don’t like the person you are when you’re 3am deep in emails, Livvy.”

“Lies.” She elbows him, the only time she can really get some leverage against him, when her bony elbow manages to find the spot just under his ribcage. “You love me all the time.”

“Well that’s cute.” Mike says, in that dangerous voice that Liv always finds hard to read. “Just the nicest couple of liars.” And it’s the way he says couple, that really does it for her, but it goes right over Kevin’s head, if the way he just leads her to the kitchen to put down her cookies and get a plate of food, is any indication.

-----

9:23 pm

“Okay, spill.” Kristin says, the second she manages to get Liv alone, not a terribly easy feat, as Liv’s been doing everything she can to avoid that. 

“Spill what?” Kristin’s got that look in her eyes, like she’s not going to let this go...whatever this is.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Kev.”

Olivia blinks. “There’s nothing going on with me and Kev.” Except that’s maybe not exactly true. It’s not a lie- there’s definitely nothing going on between them. They’re still friends, definitely still friends. But...there’s definitely not nothing between them either.

There’s too many late nights on one of their couches, spent doing absolutely nothing but talking. Too many lingering touches that don’t lead anywhere. Too many glances across a crowded room where she feels like a magnet is pulling her there in the first place, and then can’t seem to pull herself away.

So like. There’s not nothing. But nothing’s changed; they’re still goofy Kevin and organized Liv, best friends taking on the world (in Philly, now; together again, finally).

“Bullshit.” Kristin calls her out, but Liv’s saved by the arrival of one of Kevin’s sisters, who tries to wrangle them in for a picture before they all become too messy later.

It’s an easy reminder though, of how well these people all know her. So it’s probably time to lock it down for the night.

-----

10:05 pm

It’s quiet in the kitchen, where Olivia has made herself busy cleaning up after stopping in the bathroom. She’s gathered up leftovers of anything that needs to be put away, separated into bags and containers for everyone to take home, and then started on the dishes, when suddenly she feels a finger poke her side, before an entire arm wraps around her stomach.

“Stop that.” Kevin murmurs into her ear, trying to tug her away. “They’ll still be dirty for us tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” She fights against him. “The whole thing took me like, five minutes.”

“You’ve been gone for fifteen.” Kevin says, wrapping his other hand around her waist and lifting her away from the sink. “And that’s not the point.”

He sets her down on the other side of the counter; the sink’s not even in reach anymore. She gets her revenge by wiping her wet hands on his henley, but Kev doesn’t even blink, still staring down at her. “I was almost done!” She protests.

“We can clean the kitchen tomorrow.” Kevin says calmly. “Come hang out with us. I know you’ve got this thing about cleaning and order and shit but I swear to God, Nols and I are not going to fight you on this; you can put everything back wherever you want to put it tomorrow.”

Liv bites her lip so he won’t see her laugh, but of course he knows and a grin immediately stretches across his face. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She says. “I’m finally reorganizing your spice shelf.”

“It’s chaos and we like it that way.” Kevin grins and it’s only when she shakes her head, and the ends of her hair actually hit his face does she realize how close he is.

“It’s anxiety-inducing,” She corrects, smiling right back as Kevin brushes her hair back from her face. “And I don’t know how you two ever get any food made here.”

“Meal service.” Kevin shrugs, but his voice is almost overshadowed by the sound of a gasp behind her.

When she and Kevin both go to look though, the hallway is empty, and Liv shrugs right back at Kevin, before they both grab fresh drinks and join their families again.

-----

11:18 pm

Once Nolan eliminates her from the annual beer pong tournament (fuck him AND his bony elbows that were definitely over the line), Liv drapes herself over her mom’s shoulders and squeezes. Across from her, the Hayes’ both laugh, and her dad just rolls his eyes fondly, but Olivia knows her mom and knows she doesn’t care.

In fact, she welcomes it. Her mom squeezes her hand and she’s grinning, always happy for these moments with her children. “Tough loss, kid.”

“It’s fine.” Liv says, not at all bitter. “Nols is a cheating cheater who cheats. Kev will avenge me.” He’s already up by three cups; it’s looking pretty good.

There’s more laughter, and then her mom is squeezing her hand again. “We’re really happy for you, you know.” 

Liv’s a little tipsy, so she doesn’t really question the strangeness of that statement. She kisses her mom’s cheek and hugs her again. “Love you guys too!” She says, and then goes back to watching Kevin clean up for the rest of this game.

-----

11:55 pm

With five minutes to midnight and Kristin crowned as this year’s beer pong champ, the attention turns to the countdown and a flutter of activity toward preparing their traditional midnight champagne toast. 

Olivia accepts her glass from her mom and then wanders off to find her phone quickly, dead set on getting a picture of the toast for an instagram post in the morning. It’s still in the kitchen, where she’d left it when cleaning earlier, and she grabs it off the counter, ignoring most of the messages on there in favor of checking the one from Kristin (what she could possibly have to say when she’s literally across the room…).

It’s not actually a text; it’s a picture. A picture of Liv and Kevin, right after Kevin had beaten Nolan at beer pong. She’d thrown herself at him; he’d lifted her up in celebration, both of them laughing and cheering.  They look happy and perfect and like something...it’s practically a boyfriend filter...except it’s two of them, her and Kevin.

Definitely not nothing.

“Whatcha looking at?” Kevin’s voice surprises her; she’d been so focused she hadn’t even heard him come up to her.

Liv’s so not the risk taker in this friendship; Kev’s the one dragging her out to new places and new things while she’s the one telling him to take a step back and think things through. And yet, even though it’s the scariest thing in the world to show him, it somehow doesn’t feel like she’s diving in headfirst at all as she tilts the screen a little for him to see. “Kristin sent me this.” 

Even though he’s standing right next to her, Kevin still takes a step closer and his free hand, the one not holding his flute of champagne, slides around her waist. “Hey!” He grins, squeezing her gently. “It’s us!”

“Yeah,” She says, much more quietly. “It is.”

He’s quiet for a moment then, but doesn’t move away either. “It’s a good picture of us.”

“It is.” She repeats, agreeing.

“That’s not why you showed me this, is it?”

“No.” Liv swallows the lump in her throat nervously. “It’s not.”

“Livvy.” Kevin says gently and that’s it. That’s all it takes for her to open up.

“I’m so tired of this, Kev.” She shakes her phone, like that’s going to explain everything. “This-this in between thing. This more than friends, but not quite more. I hate it here! I hate looking at this picture and seeing what Kristin sees but knowing that what she sees is wrong. I hate the uncertainty, I hate feeling like there’s this thing but then neither of us does anything, so it just lingers.” She takes a breath, set on continuing, but Kevin jumps in before she can.

“You just hate not knowing something.” He grins.

“Kevin.” Liv snaps crankily, but before she can say anything else to him, he’s pressing her back against the counter and kissing her.

She’s vaguely aware of her champagne crashing to the ground, never more thankful for the fake plastic flutes that their moms always insist on, but Liv really can’t be bothered, even by spilled champagne, as she grips Kevin’s hips to pull herself closer and sinks into a truly amazing first kiss.

“Aw, hell yeah!” She hears from behind her, and pulls away reluctantly, noting the equally annoyed look on Kevin’s face. “I knew it, let’s go!”

It’s Jimmy, looking entirely too pleased to find his brother making out against a counter than he eats off all the time. Actually, it’s all of them- Jimmy, Kristin, Nolan, her brothers, Kevin’s sisters, their parents. All staring at them with bright grins on their faces and bickering.

“I told you-”

“We all fucking knew-” Jack shoves at Mike.

“-they’ve been together for ages.”

“Hey, back up! Just because they were making out now, doesn’t mean they’ve been together for ages; I had New Year’s in the pool!” Nolan pouts.

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, apparently sounding terrifying enough that every one of them stops talking. “There was a pool?”

Every one of them freezes, but for barely a moment, before they’re all talking over each other again and bumping into each other in their haste to back up. “Come on, we’re not even going to ask when this happened?” She hears Jack complain. “There’s $500 on the line here!”

“It’ll stay that way.” Kevin calls and Liv buries her face in his chest to hide her laugh. “Not telling you now!” A few groans echo back into the kitchen as he looks down at her to confirm her agreement. “We’re not telling them...ever, right?”

“Oh, it’s you and me to the grave.” Liv confirms, pulling him down for another kiss.

[nala-raines]

Christmas For Her

Author’s note: I honestly started this last year, but hit writers’ block and started other projects. But it's done! Let me know what you think. This is very long, just as a warning. Mery Christmas!

Summary: Nala tries to make it home for Christmas the day before Christmas Eve, but a storm grounds all flights leaving and entering the Manhattan area. Adrian feels bad and the gang tries to pull off a Christmas miracle to cheer her up.

Adrian is driving over to Nala’s apartment to take her to the airport. It’s currently 2 pm and it's snowing, she managed to find a last-minute flight to Michigan to spend Christmas with her family. As much as he wanted to spend Christmas with her, he knew that she could probably use a break from his world. After all, she nearly died ten times since they met. Three months ago.

He pulled in front of her apartment building, got out of the car, and went to her door. He wanted to join her, but he didn’t want to put pressure on their relationship. He knew that meeting her parents would be a big deal, so he supported her going on her own. But wished she had asked him to go with her.

He reached her door and knocked ready to carry her bags down.

‘It’s just a few days. She’ll be fine. Nala could use a break from being around vampires all the time.’ He thought, nervous that maybe she would choose to stay with her family and never return. He knew that he wanted her more than anything. No one knew that there was a ring in his pocket that he had been carrying around for a week. Adrian was walking around a mall two weeks ago to find Christmas presents for Nala and saw an almost perfect ring for the woman he loved. So, he had it customized to make it perfect and picked it up the day before Dark Solstice. 

Now all he had to do was wait for the perfect moment and hope that Nala wanted him, as much as he wanted her. He knew that it would seem too soon right now. They had only known each other for three months. It was normal even 50 years ago, but not anymore. So he would wait.

Adrian heard someone unlock the door, stopping his train of thought. When the door opened, he saw Nala.

“Oh, Adrian what are you…? Dang it! I knew I forgot something.” She said, her eyes red and tear stains on her cheeks. “Sorry, come on in.”

She walked away from the door and walked into the kitchen.

“Nala, what happened?” Adrian asks, worried. He hadn't seen her so sad before. She looked almost devastated.

“I’m sorry I forgot to call you to tell you not to come. There’s a storm coming, and it’s preventing any flights from leaving or coming in. So, I’m going to be here for Christmas.” She sniffed.

“Oh, Nala. I’m so sorry.” He said, wrapping his arms around her. She buries her face in his chest and cries. Even though she was anxious, he knew that she wanted to spend Christmas with her parents.

“I already called my dad and Heidi to let them know I won’t make it. It’s not that I don't want to be here for Christmas. I just…”

“It’s okay I get it. You were excited to see your family again.” He said, rubbing soothing circles on her back. His heart aches for her.

“Sorry you drove over for nothing.”

“I didn’t drive over for nothing.” Adrian says shaking his head, “Even if you had called, I would’ve come over,” He then realized that someone was missing,  “Where’s Lily?”

“Since I was going home, she decided to stay at the Shadow Den. Jax is planning a surprise for Lula for Christmas, and Lily is helping him.” Nala said. After she had calmed down a bit.

Adrian keeps one arm around her shoulders, but bends down to put one arm under her knees, picks her up, carries her to the couch, and sits down with her on his lap.

“Would you like some company? I’ll make you dinner. We can watch a movie, make popcorn, hot chocolate, whatever you want.” Adrian said with a smile. All he wanted was to put a smile on her face.

Nala lets out a laugh and gives him a weak smile, before nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

“No, I’ll be alright. I was just...” Nala paused, taking a deep breath while Adrian waited patiently for her to continue. “I was just looking forward to eating dinner while in formal wear. And my sister being semi-pleasant and not as judgy. That’s all. We’re just going to celebrate next month.”

Even if her words were saying that he didn't need to stay, he knew she wanted him there but she didn't want to bother him. He was about to insist on staying when he had an idea. He looked at the clock on the wall. The time was 2:30. ‘This is going to take some work. I’ll have to get everyone’s help. But it might just work.’ He thought.

“If you’re certain. But why don’t I come back later.” He could tell that she was disappointed, and tried not to let it show.

“Yeah, I‘ll be ok, but could I spend the next few days with you?”

“Of course. After all, you are supposed to spend Christmas with people you care about most. Do you want me to pick you up later? You can stay at my place if you want, or I could pack a bag and stay here?” He askes, trying to figure out what and where he had to have things set up.

“Well, I already have my bags packed, so your place.”

Nala moves off Adrian’s lap, sitting next to him. He keeps an arm around her shoulders, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry I can’t bring you over now, I have a few errands to run, but I will be back later to bring you to my place. And if you want we can have dinner at any restaurant you want.” 

“That sounds great. But can we just go straight to your place? My sleeping schedule is very messed up right now and I’d rather chill and be with you than interact with other people.” Nala laughs and smiles.

“I understand. I’ll make your favorite. Spaghetti and ‘meat chunks’.”

“Aw, you remembered.” Nala had mentioned that even though she likes meatballs, they were too much work when she just wanted to eat and it’s been her habit to say ‘meat chunks’ instead of saying ‘bolognese’. It surprised Adrian the first time she made it but understood her reasoning. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course I did. See you later.”

Adrian kisses Nala, pouring every ounce of affection into the kisses as he could. He sat with her for a moment, just to sit in her presence, before standing up and she followed him to the door.

“I’ll pick you up tonight at 8?”

“Sounds good to me. See you then.” He gave her one last kiss goodbye and went straight to his car and called Kamilah,

“Adrian, why are you calling me now? It’s 3 in the afternoon. Is something wrong?” Kamilah asks, slightly agitated, but that’s nothing new.

“Nala’s flight got canceled so she’ll be at my place tonight through Christmas. But I want to surprise her tomorrow morning and I need help to pull it off. Can I pick you up in 10-15 minutes? I need everyone’s help.”

“I’ll be ready. Lily and Jax?”

“I’ll call them when we’re done.” They exchanged a few more words and Adrian called Lily. The conversation with her was quick. They had agreed to meet at one of the old safe houses near the Shadow Den.

When Adrian and Kamilah get there, Lily and Jax are already waiting for them.

“Alright, Adrian. What do you have planned to cheer Nala up?” Jax asks, obviously a little annoyed. Everyone knew how much this trip meant to Nala, and was willing to try anything to cheer her up.

“Well, the good news is we have until tomorrow morning to pull everything together. The bad news is, there are a few places that may not be open after 11 pm.”

“How come every time we try to do something, we wind up facing some kind of peril?” Jax asks.

“We should be fine walking into a store.” Kamilah says.

“If he’s planning what I think he’s planning, then we’re going to be in the sun for more than a few seconds.” Lily said, dejectedly.

The three began to argue, which irritated Adrian. As he remembers everything that Nala has done since meeting him.

“THE AWAKENING BALL!” Everyone stops talking and looks at Adrian as he continues, “Nala was nearly killed at the Awakening Ball, at Pyria’s club, in the fight Vega, and a feral nearly tore her throat out, only hours after finding out the truth. She has stood by us no matter what, and that was confirmed when the Red Saint nearly strangled her.”

Adrian lets this sink into the others for a moment before continuing, “Not to mention living in the vampire world, our world, without complaint. I know the possible risks, and Lily is right. There is one task that would mean possibly being in the sun for a few minutes maybe longer. But that is a task I will handle. You don’t have to help me with this, but I thought I would give you the option.”

They all share a look before Kamilah speaks up, “You’re right. Nala has put her life on the line for us, more than once. I see no reason why we shouldn’t risk the same.”

Jax and Lily look at each other and give one another a knowing look. “What do you need us to do?” Jax asks.

Adrian smiles and explains what he had in mind.

                                                  ❄🎄❄🎄❄

“Adrian should be here soon. He’s never late.” Nala says to herself, putting her things back in her luggage bag. She remembered 20 minutes ago that she had her parents, friends, and other relatives’ gifts in her suitcases, but not his. She found gifts for him after searching for weeks. She knew that he would be happy with whatever she got him, but she wanted her gifts to be meaningful. She also knew that he would probably ask if she wanted to see Lily, Jax, and Kamilah later on. So she just figured she would grab their gifts too. She even grabbed the little Christmas tree that she had in her room since Adrian didn’t have one. 

“I’m gonna make him get a fake tree on the 26th. We’ll wake up at 5. It’ll be fine.” She says aloud. Then she hears a knock on the door and runs to get it. When she opens it, Adrian greets her with a smile.

“Hey you.”

“Hello,” Adrian says after wrapping an arm around her and giving her a quick kiss. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I'm ready. How did the errands go?”

“Surprisingly smooth. Are you sure that you don’t want to hit a restaurant on the way over?” He asks, picking up her bags.

”Yeah, I just wanna be with you. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m going to crash soon. And I don’t want to pass out in front of a bunch of people.” Nala says, chuckling and smiling. Clearly in a better mood than she was earlier, which made Adrian happy.

“Alright then. Are you ready to get going?” He asked. Nala nodded and Adrian bent down and picked up her bags before walking with her out the door pausing, so she could lock her apartment, and they went to his car. Once he got the car started he handed her his phone and said, “You pick the music. Youtube, Amazon music, anything you want just play it. Even if it’s a Disney Christmas song.” He said looking over at Nala, with a big smile.

“Just remember that you asked me to do this.” She said smiling before picking several songs by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Adrian turned the radio all the way up and let her jam out to them.

She tried to turn the radio down, worried about his hearing, but he just gave a reassuring nod. Telling her that he was ok. She held his hand and enjoyed the peaceful moment with the man she loved.

When they got to Adrian’s penthouse, he took her main suitcase to the bedroom and she grabbed the smaller one that held the gifts and the small (fake) tree. She quickly set them up on an end table and finished just as Adrian walked back into the living room.

“What’s all this?” He asks, surprised.

Nala smiles shyly, blushes, and bites her lip before answering,

“Your presents and the rest of the gangs too. I like having a mini Christmas tree act as a night light this time of year, but I figured we could use it and I could bring the gifts I got you. And have our own Christmas.”

“But having you with me is all I could ever want. Not to mention the Life Blessing you gave me, which is more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Adrian says as Nala walks to him and finds the chain, pulls it out from under his shirt, and reveals the Life Blessing that she had gifted him. ‘A part of me will be with you forever.’

“I like giving gifts to the people I care about, Adrian. It’s one way I show them how important they are to me. I’m especially grateful for you.” Nala says as they wrap their arms around one another.

“I’m grateful for you too, Nala.” Adrian lays his cheek against her head before continuing, “So grateful that you chose to stay, that you chose to be with me. I-I just want to give you the perfect gift. But I…” Adrian stops when he feels that Nala is shaking. He pulls back and sees tears in her eyes. He brings his hands to her face to wipe away the tears. “Nala? What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“Yes,” she said looking into his eyes. He tried to apologize, but she covered his mouth the moment he opened it. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Adrian. You just say the sweetest things.” He gives her a confused look, and she explains. “You just said that you wanted me to have the ‘perfect gift’, but you gave me the best gift 3 months ago, you accepted me as I am. You don’t mind the awkward things I do or bring up. You make sure that I’m okay with something before we do it, you make me feel safe, protected, and cherished. I don’t have the words for stuff half of the time, and you don’t need me to. You are one of the best gifts I could ever receive.”

Adrian didn’t have the words to tell her how much she meant to him, so he kissed her. He poured every last ounce of love and affection he had for her into every last kiss. After a few minutes, Nala pats his chest, signaling him that she needs to breathe, and he leans his forehead against hers, both of them panting. Then they hear Nala’s stomach growl, they laugh and Adrian kisses her forehead before speaking,

“I better get started on dinner.” He pauses, lifting her chin to look him in the eyes, “I feel the same about you. I don’t want anything but you.”

Nala sits down on the couch and watches Adrian as he cooks dinner. She likes watching him cook, and sometimes she’ll help him, but today was a day she just wanted to enjoy the moment. He didn’t mind seeing her relax because it helped him relax.

After dinner was done, Adrian made two plates while Nala grabbed two wine glasses and along with his favorite Château Latour Bordeaux. Adrian turned to Nala after they sat down.

“What do you want to watch?”

“What Christmas movies have you not seen? My parents had me watch over a half dozen different versions of A Christmas Carol, along with National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, A Christmas Story, Scrooged, Garfield Christmas, three different How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Nativity Story, It’s A Wonderful Life, and several other kids Christmas movies. So you should choose.”

“Your family really likes Christmas, don’t they?”

“Yep. You pick.”

“Are you sure?”

“Adrian, whatever you pick will be great. Even the handful of bad Christmas movies that I’ve seen over the years are entertaining. Especially the bad and budget Hallmark ones. Promise.”

Adrian nods and scrolls through movie options until he hits National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. He’s about to turn it on before, “I’ll be right back,” Nala says before she hops up and runs back into the bedroom and shuts the door. Since it was so sudden, Adrian got up a followed Nala to the bedroom door, and knocked.

“Nala, are you ok?” He asks, with worry very evident in his voice.

“Yeah. I wanted to change before dinner. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for Nala to change, as she walks into the living room Adrian is about to look at her but she quickly snaps,

“NO LOOKING! It’s part of one of your gifts.” Adrian just looked at the tv in front of him, but he wondered what this present would be. “A, would you mind closing your eyes for a second?”

Adrian shook his head slightly but closed his eyes, “Not at all.”

Nala stepped forward to check, and walked over to one of the gifts, picked up a gift, and set it on his lap, but his eyes would stay closed until she said it was okay. Nala grabs a blanket, sits down next to him, wraps the blanket around herself, and turns on her phone to use its camera.

“Sorry I yelled at you… you can open them now.” She says with a big smile. Adrian looks down at his lap and sees the gift. A long box, an inch and a half thick, and covered in snowflake wrapping paper.

“Nala, there is nothing to apologize for. However, I thought that I wasn’t supposed to open gifts until Christmas Day?”

“Well, I wanted to make an expectation this time. Please open it?”

Instead of taking his time to open the gift, Adrian tore apart the wrapping paper within seconds, making Nala laugh. He opened the lid and saw that they were Pajamas. They are bright red with Christmas trees all over and the shirt has the same pattern but a button-up. Adrian is speechless and Nala immediately takes notice.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s cheesy, but I thought that it might be cute. It may not even be the right size.” She says before hiding her face in her elbow, just as Adrian looks at her and smiles. He gently pulls back the blanket, but only enough to see the same pattern on her shirt's collar. This causes her to look at him.

“Nala, did you get us matching pajamas?”

“Yeah. You really don’t have to wear them.” Nala says, blushing.

“Nala…” He says, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “I love them.” He says smiling. Then he pulls the shirt out and holds it against himself, looking down at it. He stands up taking the box with him before turning to Nala. “Give me a moment, I’ll be right back.” He says walking to his room to change. 

A few moments later, Adrian walks out in the PJs that Nala had bought him. He has a mile-wide smile, holding his arms out, and spins around.

“I never thought I would say this, but this is my favorite pair of pajamas.” He says before sitting down next to her.

“You really like them?” Nala asks.

“Of course I do. This is comfortable, soft, and you have a matching set. Although when you said that you wanted to get changed for dinner, I thought you meant something else.” He said gently, pulling her toward him.

“You thought that I wanted to wear a nice dress, didn’t you?” Adrian nods, “Well, I did bring a nice dress, but I’m probably going to pass out after the movie. Also, I wanted to give you this before I gave myself a panic attack. I’m glad you like it.”

“You gave it to me, so how could I not?” 

Adrian wraps an arm around Nala’s shoulders as he leans forward, grabs her plate, and hands it back to her. Before grabbing his own plate and turning to her. He uses the remote turns on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. “I’m assuming this is one of your favorites.”

“‘The crapper was full!’ And Clark’s meltdown towards the end makes it a classic.” She tilts her head back to look up at him, and they both laugh as Adrian starts the movie.

They eat their food and drink their wine while enjoying the movie. They enjoyed the film, laughing at the jokes, and Nala occasionally pauses the movie to ask a question that had been brought up. Right after Clark’s final meltdown, Adrian feels Nala’s breathing slow down slightly and gets deeper, he looks and sees that she has fallen asleep. He kisses the top of her head, and she snuggles closer to him. He waits for the movie to end before picking her up and taking her to bed.

He makes sure he’s careful not to wake her. She stirs lightly when he sets her down, “Mmm?” She sounds and opens her eyes slightly, as Adrian lays next to her and cuddles close.

“Shh, it’s alright, I’m here. Go to sleep, I'm right here.” Nala snuggles into him, quickly falling back asleep. Adrian kisses her forehead and nose softly before saying, “Sweet Dreams, Nala.”

Once he was confident that Nala wouldn’t wake back up, he texted Kamilah. *Nala is asleep. But we still have to be quiet. I don’t want to wake her up. I have to take care of a few things after I let you all up. But I’ll be down with the service elevator in a moment to help bring everything up.*

Kamilah texted back, *Alright.*

Adrian quietly got out of bed, brushing Nala’s hair away from her face and kissing her forehead before walking to the service elevator door located off the hallway at the door to his penthouse. He opened it up and rode down to the guest suite where everyone was. When the door opened, he pushed a button to hold the doors so everything could be loaded up. He walked into the living room when Kamilah, Lily, and Jax noticed what he was wearing, Lily held back her laughter, along with Jax.

“Adrian, please explain to me what you’re wearing?” Kamilah asked in shock. She had never seen Adrian wear anything like it. Nor did she think she would.

“Nala got it for me. I rather like it, she has a matching set.” Adrian responded. 

Lily couldn’t hold back, she started laughing before saying,

“Wait wait wait. HAHA, your girlfriend got you both, Matching PJs?! DUDE, you are so simping for Nala! HAHAHA!”

“I’m not even going to ask what ‘simping’ means,” Kamilah said dryly. Jax shook his head, chuckling. 

Adrian knew that his new pajamas were very out of the ordinary for him. But he likes the idea of coordinating with Nala when it comes to clothes. It’s another way of showing others that they’re together. It also made Nala smile, and for him, her smile is one of his favorite things. And is worth any price.

“Be that as it may, Nala has good taste. These are probably the most comfortable pajamas I now own.” Adrian said, with a slight grin. “Now is everything ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get all of this setup,” Jax said, picking up a few boxes.

With that, they all loaded everything up into the service elevator, returning to Adrain’s penthouse. When the elevator doors opened, Adrian went to check on Nala, in case the sounds of the elevator woke her up in any way. But all he found was her cuddling his pillow with a slight pout. He chuckled slightly at the adorable sight and kissed her forehead again before heading out to help the others. It took most of the night, but they managed to get everything set up and decorated.

Well, almost everything.

                                                     ❄🎄❄🎄❄

Nala woke up late the next morning. After stretching she looked at Adrian’s clock, seeing that it was 10:30 in the morning. She laid back down for a moment. Before realizing that Adrian wasn't in the room, but the blackout blinds were down.

‘I know that he was awake most of yesterday, but why isn’t he in bed?’ Nala thought.

Nala had stayed over at Adrian’s a few times, and he had stayed at her place. Lily teased her about not taking advantage of the adult sleepovers. But as she had explained to Adrian, she didn’t want to have sex with anyone that wasn’t her husband. It was a personal decision she made and she wouldn’t change her stance for anyone. And to her relief, Adrian respected her decision. He was even willing to answer any questions she had, to the best of his ability.

With that said, Nala and Adrian lost track of time on some days so they stayed over, or Nala had a bad day and just wanted to cuddle. Adrian didn’t broach the topic of ’sleeping’ together unless it was to reassure Nala that he was happy with their relationship, just as it was. Yes, it was different than his previous relationships, but he is just as happy, if not more so.

Nala noticed that the bathroom door was open, so he wasn’t in there. She got up, went through her morning routine, and headed to the living room. She listened for a moment but didn’t hear anything, and the blackout curtains were down because the sun was up. Yet, the lights were off.

“Adrian? Are you out here?” Nala called. ‘He would’ve gone down to his office, would he?’

Before she could say anything else, lights came on, but it wasn’t the overhead lights. It was strands of lights on the tv stand, kitchen island, and a large tree in the corner.

Nala gasped, covering her mouth when she heard Adrian say, “Lights mellow.”

The room brightened, and that’s when she truly saw everything. Red and green garland was on the end tables in the living room, the main coffee table had snow globes and red and green candles on it. There was a small fake fireplace angled towards the couch. Nala turned and saw the kitchen island had garland as well, along with a few candles, she also noticed that Lily, Jax, and Kamilah were in the kitchen too. She was speechless.

Adrian became concerned when Nala just stood there staring. He could tell that she was surprised, but wasn’t saying anything. He walked over, gently placing a hand on her cheek. Nala looks again to the living room, the kitchen, and then back to Adrian.

“Adrian… '' She said, quietly, “What is all of this?” Gesturing to the decorations. Nala wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t dreaming. All of the decorations weren’t there last night.

“Those errands I had to run yesterday, to get all of this. I called Lily, Kamilah, and Jax to ask if they wanted to help. Last night, after I put you in bed, we brought everything we got up here to set up everything. Well, almost everything.” He said, gesturing to the Christmas tree, which only had lights on it, with a large collection of ornaments next to it.

Nala still didn’t know what to say. She could only think of one thing, “Why?”

“Simple,” Adrian said, “You deserve a real Christmas. Complete with decorations.”

Tears started falling down Nala’s face, “You guys risk your lives, just to get and put up all of the decorations, for me?”

“Of course we did,” Lily said, walking towards her friend, hugging her tight. “You, out of all of us, deserve a happy Christmas. Besides, how many times did you risk your life for us?”

Nala just hugged Lily back, as tight as she could. “Thank you,” she whispered. She pulled back, then ran to hug Kamilah and Jax. “Thank you. Thank you guys, so much.” She before wiping her tears away.

“You should be hugging Adrian. He’s the one who stood outside to get you the tree.” Jax said, lightly patting her back.

“Wait, what?” Nala paused, to think for a moment, “That’s a real tree?”

“Of course,” Adrain said, “The best one I could find. You told me that you always had a fake one since your father is allergic to real trees. But I wanted you to have a real one. Is that alright?”

“I wanted to get one for the apartment, but I didn’t know which one to get, and last year we used a fake one I bought, but the lights on it died. So, I donated it.” She walked back over to Adrian, and hugged him tight, “But you shouldn’t have gone in the sun to do that. You could’ve waited, it’s dark by what? 6:45?”

“That’s what I told him,” Kamilah said.

Adrian signed and moved his hand to cup Nala’s cheek, “It’s true, I could’ve waited. But yesterday was the 23rd of December, most people would’ve already gotten their trees by now. So, I thought it would be best to take the risk. Especially since most of the best trees were already taken.”

“Adrian Raines, you are the craziest man I have ever met.” She said more tears in her eyes, “But you are also the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Thank you for planning all of this.” Nala continued, wrapping her arms around Adrian’s neck before leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

Adrian happily returned her kiss, before pulling back to look into her eyes. “It is my pleasure, Nala. Now, I need to finish up breakfast. Then we can decorate the tree.”

“You guys were up all night. I can make breakfast.” Nala said, trying to do something nice for her friends.

Adrian just chuckled, before kissing her forehead. “Nala, it’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“Besides, you gotta see the decorations. We got a lot before Adrian got there. Then he basically bought the entire store.” Lilly said excitedly.

“Billionaires, man,” Jax said under his breath.

“I wanted to make sure you had plenty of options for decorations for the tree ornaments.”

“You do realize that we only need to use like 20% of these right?” Nala asked with a smile. She accepted and loved that Adrian is a very generous man. Especially when it came to the people he cared about. But, she did notice that Adrian tends to go overboard when it comes to her.

“What you don’t use now, we may use next year. And what you don’t like we can donate,” Adrian said shaking his head.

Lily dragged Nala over while Adrian finished breakfast. By the time he was done, Nala was shaking with excitement wanting nothing more than to start decorating the tree. So they did.

                                                     ❄🎄❄🎄❄

There was no particular theme to the tree, it was just whatever Nala felt like putting up.

Whether it was Doctor Who inspired, New York, snowflakes, or completely covered in glitter (Adrian had gotten all of this and more), it went on the tree. Nala asked Adrian to put the star on top of the tree. The tree was only 8ft tall, but she didn’t want to get on the ladder. The star is an ornate 8-point star that has lights inside of it. It looks like it glitters when it’s plugged in. 

When Nala handed Adrian the star, he gave it back to her, picking her up by her waist, and placing her on his shoulder. He smiled up at her, insisting that she put the star on. She just shook her head, smiling at him. Adrian held her steady as she placed the star on top of the tree and plugged it in. When he set her down, she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you guys,” Nala said, staring at the tree. Feeling overwhelmingly happy.

The rest of the day was spent watching Jim Carry’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas, White Christmas, and Christmas with the Kranks. Around 4:00, Adrian mentioned the Christmas Eve service that Mt. Hope was live streaming through Facebook and that they were going out after, so he told everyone that they should go get ready.

Nala gave Adrian a confused look, “Wait, what are we doing?”

Adrian chuckled, “Right now? We’re all getting ready to watch the Christmas eve service at Mt. Hope since it’s being live-streamed. Afterward, we’re going out to a Chinese buffet that Lily recommended. I know we’re not your family, but we can at least keep your traditions the best we can.”

Nala just looked at him and looked at her friends, seeing them nod in agreement. “No, you guys aren’t my blood family… but you guys are still very important to me. The best friends I could ever ask for.” She responded with her signature mile-wide smile, “Thank you.”

“This is the least we could do,” Jax said with a grin.

“Now, let’s all get ready,” Kamilah said, as she turned toward the elevator.

As Adrian turned to Nala, “You can use my bedroom, I already have my things in the guest bathroom.” He says before kissing Nala’s forehead.

“I won’t be long,” she whispered, before running back to the bedroom to change into her new dress.

30 minutes later…

Everyone was waiting in the living room. Kamilah is wearing a long black dress with long sleeves, a U-neckline, and gold on the skirt and sleeves. Jax was wearing a black dress shirt and a red tie, with black pants and his usual leather jacket. Lily is in a plaid, knee-length dress with a V-neckline, her usual leggings, and boots. Adrian is wearing a black suit with a red tie.

They were all just sitting there talking, as Lily was setting the live stream so they could watch it on the tv.

“There we go. All we have to do now is wait for it to start.” Lily said happily.

“Thank you guys again for doing all of this,” Nala called out from behind everyone.

Adrian turned, and his jaw hit the floor. Nala is wearing a red off-the-shoulder, knee-length dress, some nylon tights (just as another layer), black 3” closed-toe heels, and a white shawl. Her makeup was light, but she used bright red lipstick.

Nala noticed that Adrian was staring at her, “What? Do I look ok?” She asked nervously.

He wordlessly walked over to her, putting his hand on her cheek, “Nala, you are absolutely stunning.” he says breathlessly.

Nala blushed, “Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Is it hot in here, or is it just Nala?” Lily said.

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Hey, Nala, would you mind giving us a rundown about what to do?” Jax asked. “My parents weren’t religious.”

“Sure Jax. Since we’re watching the live stream, we’ll have to wait a little longer, since we usually have a half-hour of worship beforehand. And they don’t have a streaming license or something like that. After Pastor Jay will have a quick message about what Christmas is really about or about what Jesus did for us. After that, they light candles, sing another song, pray, and are released to be with their families. The whole thing only takes about an hour.”

“What types of songs do you worship too?” Kamilah asked.

“Around this time of year classic Christmas songs. Silent Night, O Holy Night, O Come O Come Emmanuel, songs like that. The rest of the year, mainly Christian artists.”

Nala knew that she was the only believer in the room, but she didn’t mind. She made her beliefs known and explained why she believed what she did. They respect her for standing up for what believes in since fewer and fewer people do so nowadays.

Everyone was quiet while Jay read his message, and while Nala prayed. After, they went out to the Chinese Buffet that Lily mentioned. They sat and hung out there for hours just, enjoying each other’s company. At 11:30, Adrian noticed that Nala’s eyes were starting to droop. So he paid the bill and dropped off Kamilah at her office building and Jax and Lily at the Shadow Den; before heading back to his penthouse with Nala.

Nala was barely able to get out of the car, she was so tired. So, Adrian picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. She woke up just enough to change into her pj’s, remove her makeup and brush her teeth. Adrian had already changed into the matching pajamas that Nala had given him, he guided her into her usual spot and covered her in the blankets before finishing his own nightly routine.

The moment that he laid down next to Nala, she placed her head on his shoulder and put her hand over his heart. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was after midnight. It was now Christmas day. And for the first time in over 200 years. He was happy to celebrate Christmas.

For Nala. For her, he would do anything.

He smiled at his love and kissed her forehead before whispering, “Merry Christmas, my Love.”

“Mmmm, Merry Christmas, Adrian.” She mumbled back, not really conscious of what she was saying or hearing.

Adrian chuckled, holding his love close. ‘One day I’ll tell you. One day soon, hopefully.’ He thought, before falling asleep. Excited to see what today would hold. And hopeful for what the new year would bring.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Everybody

And God bless us. Everyone.

Tags:

@mynotsohealthyobsession @kinda-iconic @txemrn @evlyngashfordraines @god-save-the-keen @kingliamandriley @kachrisberry @adriansbliss

[idyllicstarker]

here's a Christmas prompt for you ;) how do you feel about Peter telling Tony he won't be home in time for Christmas (maybe he's on a trip? at MIT?) but then showing up on Christmas to surprise Tony

I may have turned the prompt a little, but I hope it’s still close to what you asked for 💖

***

Warnings: none

“I was thinking we could maybe watch Elf, tomorrow - Christmas Eve is for cheesy Christmas films after all.”

Peter’s apprehensive gaze eyed the screen on his laptop, completely illuminated by Tony’s face. It was evident by how timid the question was, he knew his suggestion was a long shot - he didn’t want to make Tony anymore mad then he already seemed, but he also didn’t want the holidays to be a complete bummer because of his own faults.

Tony looked up, presumably from his work bench in the lab, eyes settling on the grainy pixels that made up Peter. He had a blanket wrapped around him, having expressed many times that the heater in the dorm pretty much did nothing at all. Tony could tell he was sad. He could tell he felt guilty at not being able to be there over Christmas. But it didn’t mean Tony felt any better about the whole ordeal.

“You’re really expecting to be able to stream and video chat with me at the same time - with your crappy wifi?”, Tony asked, looking back down to whatever work he was completing.

Peter should be used to the man getting distracted during their evening calls. Most of the time Peter didn’t have his camera on anyway, not when his roommate, Harley, was around. But that didn’t stop the pang of hurt in his chest upon seeing Tony so nonchalant about it.

“Well I don’t think it will be that slow. Harley’s gone back to his family for winter break, and most of the dorm isn’t here either”, he muttered quietly. His revision notebook sat untouched on his lap, nervously rolling his pen between his thumb and index finger.

“You know I never used to like Harley, so I can’t believe I’m saying this but you should be more like him.”

Frustrated tears began to form in Peter’s eyes at Tony’s bluntness. But the man still refused to even look over at the screen.

“You know this isn’t my fault”, Peter whispered, it hurt that Tony was pinning the blame on him. How was he supposed to know the weather was going to stop flights?

“If you’d just gotten the flight when I’d told you too we’d be able to watch Elf together on Christmas Eve, on my couch. But no, you wanted to stay for an extra few days”, Tony hissed. The darkness of the screen made his brown eyes almost black, and Peter flinched at the look of absolute betrayal on the man’s face.

“You know I wanted to go to the party”, he said quietly, shaking his head, “I couldn’t have ever known it was going to snow this much.”

“Yes because a party is much more important than your boyfriend-”

“You’re being selfish…”

“Oh! I’m being selfish Peter? You promised to be here, and you’re not. That’s what’s selfish. You told me not to decorate because you said you wanted to do it with me. There’s not an ounce of Christmas cheer in this place, and now I don’t even want to do it. You know how much I hate the holidays because Maria and Howard were never around. I never had that. I never had a nice Christmasz You promised you were going to be here.. to help me experience that, and what have you done.. you’ve let me down. You told me five minutes ago there was literally no way for you to get back in time with the way it’s snowing, and you’re really expecting me to just be okay. That’s what's selfish.”

He leaned forward quite abruptly, and Peter heard the rough click of his keyboard, before his camera turned off. He was still on the call, but clearly didn’t want to be seen. So what Peter didn’t know was that the man was wiping roughly under his eyes, trying to rid himself of any tears.

Speechless, the younger male looked over the blank screen, his own expression hurt. He knew Tony was right, he’d given a lot of promises he wasn’t able to keep. He sighed, moving to turn his own camera off and therefore giving him the relief to let the tears fall. He sank down into his bed, cuddling the blanket to his chest and burying his cold nose into it.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, because honestly he didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah so am I”, Tony’s voice rang out through his speaker, heavy with emotion yet the feedback didn’t quite pick that up distinctly.

Silence followed. A heavy, emotional silence that Peter didn’t know how to fill to get it to stop weighing down on his chest like that. He swallowed thickly, licking at his lips.

There was a sudden fast paced typing, as Peter sniffled before finally Tony spoke again.

“It says the snow’s going to stop on the twenty sixth. There’s no planned flights, but I’ll take the jet instead”, as if predicting Peter’s disagreement with that, he continued: “But only if it’s stopped completely. And If one of my pilots is willing. I don’t want to take them away from their family, a hefty pay rise would be in order…”, by the way he trailed off Peter knew he wasn’t really talking to him anymore.

He sighed out quietly, nodding his head solemnly before realising Tony still couldn’t see him.

“Okay”, he agreed, clearly his throat as he shifted in the bed, pulling his laptop to him and turning on the camera. He waited a few seconds, but Tony didn’t do the same. Nervously he chewed on his lip, and closed his eyes.

“How’s your foot?”, he asked quietly.

A couple of days ago Tony had dropped a hammer on it. He was lucky, it wasn’t broken, but it was swollen. If it wasn’t for that maybe he would have been able to drive down to get Peter. But he couldn’t.

“It’s fine," Tony replied gruffly, “healing..”, he mumbled after a moment. No matter how he was feeling right now, he didn’t want Peter to worry.

“Oh, that’s good.”

It seemed all attempts at initiating conversation again was futile. The guilt he felt was unlike any other. He had promised, and honestly if he knew it was going to end up this way he never would have stayed the extra few days just so he could go to that party and leave when everyone else left. But now flights were cancelled and he was alone. Most people just managed to drive back. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry for getting snappy with you”, Tony sighed out after a long moment. “I know it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this. And besides your young - you want that college experience. I don’t blame you for taking it over your old boyfriend…”, he seemed to laugh at the end, but he sounded solemn more than anything. It wasn’t a humoured or a happy laugh, it was quite broken.

“That’s not true Tony”, he tried to justify, clutching his blanket to his chest. “I’d rather be with you then anywhere else. I made a mistake.. a big one”

He half expected Tony to agree but he actually didn’t get a reply. The only indication that he was actually still there was the faint tapping of his keyboard through the speaker.

“I don’t feel too good”, Peter said after a moment, “I think I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll text you in the morning…?”, he mumbled, the last part more of a question than anything. Even if it was Christmas Eve tomorrow, Tony didn’t look like he was going to forgive him anytime soon.

He was right in thinking such, getting only a low grunt from the man. Peter had to cough to hide his quiet sob.

“Goodnight”, he spoke meekly, voice shaking as he quickly ended the call.

***

If Peter could feel his nose he may have turned around to Ned and laughed about it being a Christmas miracle.

It had taken five hours and driving that most definitely should have been illegal considering they couldn’t see for the most part, but he was here.

Craving comfort after his conversation with Tony last night, he turned to who he knew would never let him down - Ned. He hadn’t asked him to drive down in the middle of the night, to pick him up and take him here, he just did. No amount of panicking from Peter as he realised he’d gotten into his car had stopped him. And now he was here.

The sun was just beginning to rise. Neither of them had slept, but here they were, in front of the tower, in front of his home. Of course, it was still snowing heavily, and as he stepped out of the car, his trainers crunched satisfyingly against the blanket that covered the floor.

“Thanks dude, I don’t know what I’d do without you”, he said softly. His gratitude so strikingly evident in the way his voice softened as they pulled his cases and belongings for his stay from Ned’s trunk.

“Don’t worry about it. It was nice to have the catch up. I’ve missed you”, Ned said, shrugging his shoulders.

Peter didn’t mention the fact that they’d spent half the time screaming whenever they swerved, the tires not quite gripping onto the icy road in a way that comforted Peter enough to not be alert. Instead he simply nodded.

“You should come over, we’ll hang out like old times…”

When all of his stuff was on the pavement, and Peter was beginning to wish he’d put a hat on, he smiled over at his friend. They hugged for a moment, but Ned being tired from driving all night, and Peter eager to go see Tony, let each other go after a moment.

“Thanks man.”

Peter managed to get all of his stuff inside after Ned had left. He decided to let reception send it up, not wanting to haul it all in the elevator and instead just grabbed one small case and bounded over to the lift.

He wiped away at the wetness on his cheeks, and brushed off the snow flakes from his hoodie. He knew Tony would still be asleep, which meant he could go through with his plan easily.

“Friday, don’t alert Tony that I’m back please”, he spoke.

“Yes Mr Parker”, came the reply.

He thanked her quickly, running a hand through his damp hair as let out a deep breath and smiled as the elevator arrived on the floor.

***

“Ho Ho Ho! Good morning handsome”

Peter’s breath was warm against Tony’s cheek. Smelling faintly of chocolate (they’d had a bit of a feast on the way here) and ever so soft and gentle.

Tony blinked his eyes groggily, letting out a disgruntled sound as he lifted his head up to try and make out the sight that was currently hovering over him in the bed.

The small figure of his boyfriend that should definitely not be here, was straddling his torso with the widest grin. His cheeks were still flush from the cold outside, and atop his head was a cute little Santa hat.

“Christmas came early this year”, Peter hummed, shrugging innocently. “Unfortunately Peter Claus didn’t bring you any presents, but he thinks he’s the best gift of all”

Two seconds later and he was being tackled to the bed by a suddenly very much awake Tony. Peter giggled, squirming as Tony’s goatee scratched against his face and neck at all the kisses that were being peppered against his skin.

“How are you here? I thought there were no flights”, he was evidently elated at the sight of his partner.

“Poor old Ned drove all the way over, and then drove me all the way back. We’ve been driving all night. But it’s worth it. I’d rather spend Christmas with you then alone.”

As they both settled down, Peter wound his arms around Tony’s neck, cuddling up to his chest. The Santa hat sat lopsided on his head but he didn’t mind too much, all that mattered was that he was here.

“We’ll have to thank him later”, Tony concluded, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s lips that the younger male returned eagerly.

“I’m glad you're here. I was worried, but this is the best Christmas gift I could ever get, you’re totally right”, he concluded after a moment of silence whilst they took in the feeling of finally being together again.

Peter nodded his head in agreement, a sleepy smile on his lips as he curled against his warmth.

“Merry Christmas Tony”, he mumbled softly.

“Merry Christmas my love.”

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Home/Family Update - May 2021

I will take this right back to when I was discharged from the Priory in December. From there I moved back home with my parents; it was a bit of a difficult transition as I didn't have any home leave in the lead up to being discharged due to COVID and my consultant wanting me to make the most of my time on the ward. Add to that my EDP going completely awol, meaning that our whole 4 week pre-discharge meetings and relapse prevention plan went out the window. So yes it was a bit of a rocky start, and that is without you factoring in COVID lockdown/Christmas.

Being discharged from an IP setting is never easy no matter who you are; changes in environment and routine can throw you off track without you even realising it and I did find myself struggling with this. I also had the difficult navigation of adapting to coming home in terms of my dad and his recovery. For those who might not know, last March my dad fell down the stairs in the middle of the night the day that my parents arrived home after a month in NZ. He suffered 3 brain bleeds (a subdural, an extradural and a subarachnoid), multiple facial fractures and a break in his spine. That night was one of, if not THE, worst of my life. We were told that it was very likely that he would not survive and that if he did he would be in a vegetated state or not able to take care of himself...we were told to prepare for the worst. By some MIRACLE he defied all the odds and at the age of 74 after spending 11 or so days on the ICU, a further 2 weeks on a trauma ward and then another 3 months in a neuro rehab, he was discharged home and is now, a year on from the accident, completely independent, no sign of further brain bleeds and is actually much fitter than he has been for, well, 50 years! Honestly, we never expected anything like this sort of recovery and from an outside perspective he is doing perfectly. However, there are things that will never be the same again and I don't think it is until you are with someone 24/7 that you are able to tell. He has changed quite a bit as a person; in some ways this is a good thing but in other ways it is not so. He cannot deal with changes in environment or routine; even things like having the bread on the side instead of in the bread bin completely throws him off and he doesn't even register that the bread is there. He gets very easily agitated, can be extremely rude and a little aggressive. Now some of this was already there (a lot of it was) but it has become more acutely obvious since the head injury. I have SO much respect and love for my mum - I really dont know how she has held herself up over the past 2 years, as well as helping dad when he was initially transitioning home (I was still in hospital but it sounded like he needed a lot of help for the first few months - which I only saw an inch of when they were able to visit me in hospital (he used to wander off and didn't know where he was etc. which is thankfully no longer and issue!)).

This is hard for me to say but I will admit that I have struggled more than I thought I would with being around him; in short I pretty much went through the whole mourning process whilst I was in hospital as the last time i saw him on the trauma ward before they stopped all visits and before I was admitted, he didn't know who I was...He thought he lived in another country and was telling me all sorts of stories that were fabricated, before telling me that he needed to go and pick up the mercedes and drive to sainsburys to get the Gin and petrol (we don't have a mercedes and he doesn't even like gin!) Anyway, I digress. So yes, I basically mourned for someone who was still alive physically but mentally had changed as at the time I didn't know whether he would be in a vegetated state or make a good recovery. Thankfully we are on the good side and he is doing so incredibly well but the bottom line is that he is different and living with him, at the age of 26, is HARD. We have good days and bad days (as any young adult who lives with their parents does) and there are many many days that I wish I wasn't living at home but I do my best to hold myself together during those times, especially for my mum because she, I tell you, is absolutely incredible. How she has put up with him for so long I honestly do not know!

Talking of mum, I would say that since the whole accident with dad, we have become a LOT closer. We really had to lean on each other over that month; we were driving down to Brighton every single day to see dad on the ICU and on the Trauma ward until we were stopped from visiting - it was mentally and physically exhausting for the both of us, especially as we were still barely processing the trauma and struggling with flashbacks in the night. We were the first ones on the scene of the accident (if it weren't for mum's medical training, dad would not be alive today). Of course we still have our moments but I feel like our relationship almost "levelled up and matured over the past year. We have bonded over being in nature and walking (because what else can you do when the country is in lockdown!?! but also because we have always been an "outdoors" family (well my mum, Andi and me have))- we also talk about dad and the accident quite a bit too, which has helped me beyond belief (and her too). We give each other space, and yes there are days when we dont get on but who doesn't have days when they dont?

On balance I would say that home is "okay". It is manageable. No the environment is not perfect and I do find it affects my mental health quite a bit and holds me back in some ways (I cannot wait to be able to move out one day) but I am incredibly grateful to have parents that are willing to and can afford to take me under their roof and help me out during this time.

Gosh, this has already ended up so much longer than I thought it would, I am sorry! In short: home life is okay. We are here and that is the most important thing. We saw Andi a two-ish weeks ago as we were in Cornwall for our usual time-share (we were so lucky that Boris allowed self catering two weeks before our usual time share week) - I think it was good for them to get out of their flat as I don't think they had left the small area where they live since last September when we went down to Cornwall (I was given leave for a week as it was sold to my consultant to help my dad's recovery, which is definitely did but yes we did pull the right strings to get that one!)

Anyway, I shall leave this update here and start the mammoth task of the next one. I am sorry that this is taking me so long, it's quite hard to write and think back and reflect (although actually quite helpful for me to do) so I do find that I have to come back to it a few times. Please stick with me x

-----

I forgot to add that dad had an assessment before we went away to Cornwall to see whether he can have his driving license back and (as mum and I predicted) he failed. To say that he did not take it well would be putting it lightly!!! I am actually ashamed of the way that he behaved and the things that he said/the reasons he fabricated as to why he had failed (let's just say he got sexist and rude - which I have ZERO time for and was appalled by him - I am so glad I was not with him/mum after the assessment as I would have blown my fuse at hime). He could not even entertain the idea that he had failed. He blamed everything/anything else that he could - even saying that it was the system and one of the first things he said to me was "I understand now, I've worked it out, it's the system, they aren't allowed to pass many people first time so that's it", which I just *speechless*. Mum and I have talked about it a lot and we don't think that he has ever "failed" at anything in his life. He also believes that he is 10000%. fixed and has no issues or problems and doesn't need any support or guidance. He refuses to listen to mum and I when we try to tell him about how unwell he was, he refuses to believe it and won't take it. One thing that mum and I are very glad of is that all of this driving stuff is OUTSIDE of the family. He can't put it on us. It is coming from an external place and we can support him if he lets us but that is his decision as to whether he lets us or not. He has never been a good patient; and he also won't take any advice (in anything) from mum or let her be right about something either, which is just sad, really sad. This is not a new thing, it has always been this way. And the more I reflect on our family/have reflected over the past year with dad in hospital, the more I see that I don't like. The way dad has behaved and treated mum, how he was always missing in my childhood, how alcohol always came above family, how old fashioned and unwilling to learn he is, how distant and uninterested he was, how he never says please or thank you, never asks how anyone is and refuses to talk about mental health (yep, despite so much going on in our family with mental illnesses, he refuses to talk about it and won't even ask "how are you?" or offer support etc)...I don't mean to be so negative about him, I really don't. I love him, he is my dad, but there is a lot of healing that needs to be done, and it is going to take time.