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shireness-says · 4 years ago

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The Set-Up Scam

Summary: They’ve always been friends first and foremost - Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - until suddenly, they’re something a little more too. But with a $600 betting pool on the line about when they’ll actually get together - well, maybe there’s incentive to keep the good news a secret. ~5.5k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3.

~~~~~

A/N: Merry Christmas, @nevertothethird! I was delighted to be your pair for @cssecretsanta2020. It’s been wonderful chatting with you, and I look forward to a full stalking. ;)

You said you liked secret dating, friends to lovers, and characters being forced to work together - so I, like a fool, tried to include all three. I hope you like the result!

Special thanks, as always, to my beta, @snidgetsafan - the greatest treasure under any tree.

Tagging: @ohmightydevviepuu, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

They’re friends, first and foremost. Best friends, really - Killian and Emma, Emma and Killian. Partners in crime and two peas in a pod and every other cliché there is (and Killian would definitely know all of them). It’s been that way since the very beginning, when Killian let her peek at his attendance quiz answers in that awful intro to astronomy class in college. Their relationship had grown from there: late nights in the library and each others’ dorm rooms, studying or watching movies or chatting, all the way through graduation and eventually grad school. They get each other in a way that usually doesn’t happen for Emma, both coming from rough backgrounds and determined to make the world a better place because of it. Hell, they even work together now at Misthaven County Middle School - Killian as an English teacher, and Emma as a guidance counselor.

And all that time, it’s been strictly platonic.

It’s not like Emma hasn’t looked. He’s an objectively good looking man, and smart and sweet and funny. But he’d been in some “it’s complicated” situation with a grad student when they’d met, and then Emma was in that weird period where she and Graham gave it a shot, and by the time they were both available… well, by that time, they’d been Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A collective, a pair, absolutely entwined every way but romantically. He’d become her person, and it wasn’t worth risking that. There was no guarantee a romantic relationship would work out, anyways - or that Killian felt the attraction too.

The thing, though, is that they’re Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. Always together, always in each other’s stories, two birds of a feather. People constantly think that they’re together - or should be.

Emma doesn’t really mind, most of the time. She and Killian usually think it’s pretty funny, trading stories back and forth on his or her couch. Where it gets annoying is when each and every one of their friends are determined they should be dating. It’s been years of meaningful looks and hints about “so why aren’t you seeing anyone, Emma?” - but the last straw is the stupid, stupid bet.

“I just don’ unnerstand why you and Killian aren’t a couple!” slurs Mary Margaret, assistant principal and friend, at her yearly end-of-summer bash. “You’re ovviously in loooooooooove.”

“Sure we are, Mary Margaret,” Emma placates.

“But why haven’t you yet?” she demands. “You made me lose the pool!”

That draws Emma up short. “I’m sorry, what?”

The little pixie-haired brunette frowns. “Don’t you know? We’ve had a betting pool going for ages about when you’d get together this year. I thought for sure it’d be the Fourth of July.”

It’s a good guess, actually - Ruby throws a famously boozy bash every year at her grandmother’s diner, conveniently situated right below the inn. It’d make sense for them to get drunk and take things upstairs - except for the fact that none of this is rooted in sense in any way, shape, or form.

“That obviously didn’t happen,” Mary Margaret frowns sorrowfully, staring down into her plastic cup full of god-knows-what. It doesn’t last long, though, as she perks right back up. “But they let me make a new guess! I’ve got my money on the Friday after your birthday.”

“How much money are we talking here?” Emma can’t help but ask. It’s like a compulsion, one she doesn’t like or understand.

“Five hundred and fifty dollars.” At least that’s what she thinks Mary Margaret says; the slurring gets particularly bad on the f-sounds. It’s an astounding sum. Truly stupid.

Kind of tempting.

“And everyone bet that it would happen this year?” she makes sure to clarify.

“Yup!” Mary Margaret pops the p-sound and then giggles to herself about the noise.

“Then I’m putting fifty dollars on it not happening this year. That Killian and I won’t get together.”

———

She means it at the time, too. Because yeah, there’s sometimes that niggling little what if?, but they’ve known each other for eight years. Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. It’s not going to happen - honestly she’s not even sure she would want it to.

Until.

It’s not the Friday after her birthday, when they’re all going to hit the bar, but it’s the night before her birthday - a Tuesday. Killian comes over to grade vocab quizzes and eat greasy pizza, and stays to drink beer and watch stupid baking shows with her on the couch. Honestly, in so many ways, it’s a night like any other: two friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Until.

Maybe it’s the beers. Maybe something’s been building for longer than she ever thought. Maybe it’s just that they’re both feeling good and, well, it is her birthday. But Killian kisses her - or she kisses Killian - they kiss each other and it’s like something slots into place. Like of course this was going to happen - they were just waiting for the perfect moment. It makes sense, in a way that Emma hasn’t let herself think about; he’s the person she trusts most, the best man she knows, probably the most important person in her life. Her best friend - and, probably, something more.

“That was…” he gasps, some indeterminable amount of time later. Somehow, he’s wound up on top of her on the couch - not that she’s complaining.

“Only the beginning,” Emma completes, smirking in a way she definitely picked up from him.

Now that this has started, she has no intention of stopping.

———

“Ok, don’t kill me - or, like, run away immediately - but I need a favor. A huge one,” Emma says much later, both of them naked and sated beneath her sheets.

Killian laughs beside her, peering up from the pillows with a smile. “After that, darling, I’m predisposed to give you just about anything you want.”

“And I’ll give it to you again,” she quips back, mostly to make him keep laughing. It works. “But seriously. Did you know that everyone’s got a bet going on us?”

That pops his head up. “I’m sorry, a bet? I… What? Who?”

“Seems like pretty much everyone. Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, Robin, Belle… I could go on and on. A six hundred dollar pool on when we get together.”

“Typical,” Killian mutters - though Emma catches a fond note in his tone. “Who’s the lucky winner, then?”

“Ok, this is where the favor comes in.” Hopefully this isn’t a breaking point for him; Emma would hate to have this taste of them, only to have it ripped away from her. “See, Mary Margaret told me about this when she got trashed at the back to school party, and I’d had a few too and was all hopped up on righteous fury or whatever, and I kind of… put fifty dollars in the pot that we wouldn’t get together this year at all.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and Emma’s frankly scared that he’s going to get out of bed and go - but instead, he bursts into a near-hysterical cackle. “So you want to keep this a secret until the new year, so you can win the pot?”

Emma grins, knowing she must look like the cat that ate the canary (or however that weird-ass saying goes - again, English is Killian’s thing). “Exactly. We could spend it on a weekend getaway or something.”

“I’m in, then. Under the radar.”

“It’s just two months and change,” Emma says. “It’ll speed by. How hard can it be?”

———

Turns out - their friends are determined to make it as hard as possible. Even if they don’t know it.

Things are fine, at first. In fact, nothing really changes: Emma and Killian still show up at each others’ doors most nights, and Killian comes to hang out and grade papers in her office during his free periods most days. It’s just that their evenings are now filled with kisses and touches, and those afternoons in her office with all kinds of promises of things to come. It’s thrilling, in a way, to put on the front of normality for everyone else while only they know the truth. It’s nice, too, to be able to get their feet underneath them in this relationship without so many prying eyes watching them figure it all out.

Just because they don’t know, though, doesn’t mean their friends stop trying. There’s a bet on the line, after all, and their friends have never exactly been ones to step back and let things naturally run their course. Not for those busybodies; not with six hundred dollars and Emma and Killian’s supposed happiness on the line.

(The fact that they’re right - that the two of them really are happiest together - is irrelevant.)

David, of all people, is the first to start meddling.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” he asks out of the blue one day - calls Emma up on her phone and everything. “You and Killian and me and Mary Margaret, I mean.”

Emma’s antenna raises immediately. “What, like a double date? C’mon, David —”

“No! No,” he says hastily - a little too hastily, Emma thinks. “No, a cousin of mine - Kris, you’ve met him - he’s opening up his own restaurant. Some place with Scandinavian food, I guess?”

“That’s actually a thing?”

“I guess. I don’t know, he studied abroad in Norway in college. Anyways, he could use a little business, support or whatever, so Mary Margaret and I figured we’d bring some extra people along. You know, help him out. And maybe Scandinavian food is good after all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The line sits silent for a moment, before David breaks. “So… you in?”

And as much as Emma suspects this is all some elaborate set-up - well, it’s supposed to be to help someone else. David’s cousin, who she has in fact met and is really a good guy. And so she reluctantly agrees. “Yeah, I’m in. One of us will have to check with Killian if he’s available —”

“What, he’s not right there with you?”

(He is, his lips kiss-swollen and pulled into a delicious smirk, but that’s not the point and none of David’s business.)

“ — but yeah, I’m down.”

In the week between the call and the dinner, Emma actually finds herself starting to look forward to it. Yeah, it won’t be a real date - not with David and Mary Margaret there - but it’s still a chance to wear a pretty dress that’ll make Killian’s eyes bug a little. She’ll have to pick something he’ll have fun taking off of her later, once they’ve pretended to go back to their own homes.

Emma’s just pulling into the parking lot, however, when her phone rings, David’s name popping up on the screen.

“We’re not going to make it tonight,” he says without preamble, followed by the most fake-ass cough Emma’s ever heard in her life. “We’re sick.”

“Yeah, sick off your own lies,” Emma mutters. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll go another time —”

“Oh no, I insist you guys still have dinner. You and Killian deserve to have a night off!”

“David, c’mon, don’t play dumb —”

He ignores her. “Besides, you’ll be doing me - and Kris - a huge favor. I already told him to charge whatever you guys get to me. Splurge a little, have dessert and a bottle of wine. It’s all on me.”

Killian climbs out of his own car as David pleads his case, cocking his head in confusion at the no doubt frustrated look on Emma’s face. He looks like he wants to kiss it better; Emma wishes he could actually do so.

“Fine,” she caves. “If you’re sure. But I’m running up the bill.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Emma takes particular glee in ending the call. She should have seen this coming. “Looks like David has come down with a possibly fatal cough, so he and Mary Margaret aren’t coming tonight,” she tells Killian, rolling her eyes. No need to resist that particular urge.

He snorts. “Ah, liar-itis. I thought he might be coming down with a case.”

“Complicated by meddler’s cough. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course not.” He dips down to capture her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss - another urge they don’t have to resist with none of their friends around to see it. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

She smirks back. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs. “I’m sure you wore that just to torment me through dinner. Now, shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma slips her hand through his offered arm. “Dinner’s on David, by the way.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

———

“So, how was dinner?” David asks the next day, his cough mysteriously cleared up.

“Good,” Emma replies, knowing exactly what he’s digging for. “Your cousin’s got a good lingonberry cheesecake. Don’t worry, Killian and I totally ran up the bill. Kris has been well supported. You’re welcome.”

“And?” he demands.

Emma makes sure to play up her confusion. “And… what? It was a great dinner, might even go back if I ever have a date, and then I went home. Honestly, what did you expect to happen, David?”

Even through the phone, she can almost hear him audibly deflate. Something like a sigh, or perhaps the sound of his entire plan collapsing in on itself. Personally, Emma thinks it’s hilarious.

(It’s especially funny when she vividly remembers the way Killian had stripped her out of that dress, can still feel the scratch of his beard on her inner thighs.)

(But again - those are things that David doesn’t need to know.)

———

The set-ups multiply like rabbits, and Emma starts to notice her and Killian being forced into more and more situations together, just the two of them. Fuck only knows why they think these clumsy attempts will work; after all, Emma and Killian held out for 8 years of each other’s company before finally getting together (without anyone’s help, she might add). Still,

Trivia night is a weekly tradition for them all, down at the Rabbit Hole. Some weeks, the turnout is good; sometimes, not so much. They usually meet up at someone’s house and carpool from there because there’s not a ton of parking spots outside the bar, and it’s always worked well - two, maybe three cars instead of a half dozen or more. It’s a good time, and Emma always finds herself looking forward to Thursdays.

Tonight, they’ve met at Robin’s, Killian’s former roommate. It’s a good crowd tonight, too - Robin and his fiance Marian, Mary Margaret with David, Belle the librarian, Ruby and Mulan, even Graham and Lance and Tink. The gang’s all here, probably trying to let loose a bit before holiday obligations set in, and they’re raring to go - all twelve of them.

Emma hopes that it’s not planned - that there just happen to be two cars and then some worth of people here - but it’s more likely planned. Robin probably twisted their arms to come, just for this.

“Emma, would you mind checking the door one more time?” he calls as they congregate in the driveway. “I’m sure I locked it, but I’ve just got that niggling little feeling…”

“Sure, no problem.” And it isn’t - it’s checking the damn door. Except it’s actually winding down his stupidly picturesque front garden path to the front door, and then having to maneuver around the always-unlocked outer glass door to make sure that the real door is locked, and then maneuvering and winding and everything back… and by the time Emma makes it back, everyone’s already piled into Mary Margaret’s station wagon and Robin’s little SUV, even the middle seats everyone usually hates, leaving just the conniving man himself and Killian standing on the asphalt.

“Sorry, looks like the two of you will be riding together,” Robin says, not seeming remotely sorry. “This is convenient anyways! I know how much time you two spend together, if you decide that it’s easier to crash together afterwards… it wouldn’t be a problem for the extra car to stay here overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be,” Emma grumbles. “I don’t suppose you have any underlying motive here, do you Robin? Say, to the tune of six hundred dollars?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he responds cheerily. “I just really, really want you to know that you can keep your options open. And, you know, other euphemistic things if the urge moves you.”

Asshole.

(Emma does not leave her car at Robin’s overnight - but that doesn’t stop Killian from meeting her at her place afterwards.

“This euphemistic enough for you, love?” he teases as Emma pulls at his shirt, trying to tug the cotton tee over his head.

“How’s this for a euphemism: fuck me.”

“That’s not exactly how that word works, Swan.”

“I could not possibly give fewer shits about semantics than I do right now, Killian, unless it somehow relates to you getting your pants off.”

Somehow, even in the midst of their frantic stripping, he manages to laugh. “As you wish.”

She’s always preferred straight talking anyways.)

———

“Thank god I found you both!” Mary Margaret declares, bursting into Emma’s office a little too dramatically for her tastes. Until now, she and Killian had been having a wonderful lunch together, but that’s obviously a thing of the past now.

“That seems a little extreme for a Friday,” Killian comments mildly as he sets his cafeteria burger back down on the styrofoam tray. Personally, Emma thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting, but Killian’s got a real fondness for the cheeseburgers, and especially the french fries. No one’s perfect, she guesses. “What terrible impending tragedy can Emma or I save you from, Mary Margaret?”

“Kathryn’s father is in the hospital, so she and Fred can’t work their assigned booth at the Winter Carnival tomorrow.” Storybrooke County School District’s charity carnival is a tradition every winter - one Mary Margaret takes very seriously. Something that’s clearly about to come back and bite them all in the ass. “Would you two be able to cover tomorrow? You’d be doing me such a huge favor…”

Killian raises a single eyebrow as he turns to meet Emma’s eye - that eyebrow that always seems like a dare. “My schedule’s clear this weekend. Count me in. What do you say, Swan, think you can find room in your schedule to save Mary Margaret from the tragedy of all tragedies?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he’s putting it on thick, but truth be told, her only plans had been spending the day with Killian. Might as well. “Sure, what the hell,” she says, reaching for another bite of her microwave pizza. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

In retrospect, Emma realizes that Mary Margaret could have done something terrible with this - assigned them to the kissing booth or something. God, she hopes that there’s not a kissing booth at a middle school carnival, but it feels like just the kind of thing she’d pull. Thankfully, they’re set up at the ring toss game. It’s not strenuous in the least; they don’t even have to take money, just paper tickets. Really, the only questionable thing is that they’re crammed right together in the box formed between the booth walls and the counter and the table of bottles behind them. Maybe that’s something that would have bothered her a few weeks ago, back when they were Emma and Killian but not Emma and Killian. Now, it’s just an excuse to get right up in his space and enjoy all those little touches, right under everyone’s nose.

(Maybe, every time they have to duck under the counter to retrieve poorly-thrown rings, Killian takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss while no one else can see. And maybe - just maybe - Emma uses those same opportunities to steal her own kisses right back.)

“Soooooo, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret chirps when she pops up out of nowhere mid-afternoon. It’s like she thinks she’ll find them making out in the middle of the carnival or something. Which… fair. The urge is there. But they’re professionals - and Emma wants that money, dammit. She’s not caving here.

“Just fine, Mare,” Emma replies. “Nothing worth reporting.”

“There’s not? You two are looking awfully cozy in there… nothing to report?”

“Well, you’re the one who set up the booths, so…”

“Aye, just making the best of it,” Killian helpfully adds.

Emma almost feels guilty about the way that Mary Margaret visibly deflates.

“You know this was another ridiculous set-up, right, love?” Killian asks once their friend has walked away. “She probably never even needed our help. It was all a ploy.”

“I see it now,” Emma sighs. “I had just weirdly hoped she’d be above all that bullshit.”

Killian quirks that eyebrow yet again. “Mary Margaret? Infamous meddler? Of course not. It’s cute that you thought that though, darling.”

“Oh, shut up.”

(“Mary Margaret told me to take the weekend off, that they’d over-scheduled,” Kathryn tells Emma later when she tries to ask how the other woman’s father is doing. “Was that not the case?”)

(Fucking figures.)

———

Ruby, frankly, is not a surprise. In fact, if there was one person Emma would figure would be pulling this bullshit, it’s Ruby. The girl’s too competitive for her own damn good - not to mention that mile-wide chaotic streak running through her soul.

“Pucker up!” she crows, thrusting what Emma assumes is a sprig of mistletoe over her and Killian’s heads. They’re at Ruby and Mulan’s place for… some party; it’s probably, maybe holiday themed, but Ruby’s never needed an excuse to throw a party. Anything to get them all drunk and laughing and forgetting about the stresses of the week.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma demands. “Ruby, don’t be stupid. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Oh, like we ever did this in college,” Ruby scoffs with that devious twinkle in her eye. “Besides, college shenanigans are a state of mind. And I’m not giving that up. Now c’mon, no weaseling out of this.”

“It is the rules,” Mulan points out, appearing to slip her arm around Ruby’s waist and drop an affectionate - if slightly tipsy - kiss on her shoulder.

“Yeah, you hear that? Smart half says it’s the rules. So go ahead and pucker up and kiss him. And then go make out for a while and maybe bone each other so I can win the pool.”

Killian blushes a little bit at the phrasing - something that’s surprisingly cute on him, knowing how often he usually tosses around the innuendoes and exactly how dirty a mouth he has when they’re alone. Before Emma knows what he’s doing, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, smacking one for good measure. “Who are we to deny the great, determined Ruby Lucas?” he proclaims grandly. “One kiss: delivered.”

Ruby’s face gets a bit mutinous; it’s the only word for that particular storm cloud, really. “No it isn’t! That’s cheating!”

“Eh. Technically, it was a kiss.” God bless Mulan for being the only one willing to go against Ruby when she’s got a plan; perks of being the girlfriend, Emma supposes.

“And more importantly, Rubes, that’s all you’re going to get from us.” And that’s Emma’s last word on the subject.

(“Happy Christmas, darling,” Killian whispers into her neck later once they’re back at her place, dangling his own sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “How about it? C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Emma is more than happy to comply.)

———

Emma wouldn’t say it’s common for her to get calls from the school librarian, Belle, but it’s not unusual either. So when Belle calls her up in mid-December, shortly before Christmas break, Emma doesn’t think twice about it.

“The new Scholastic catalogs are here,” Belle informs her. “I haven’t started sending them to classrooms yet, but if you want to take a look now…”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, the catalogs are full of books for middle school students, but Emma still loves those things. They’re chock-full of nostalgia.

“I haven’t even taken them out of the box yet,” Belle explains when Emma meets her at the check-out desk. “They’re all still in the back room. Here, I’ll let you in.”

That should have been Emma’s clue here. Why would a box of new catalogs, just arrived in the mail, already be shoved into the storage closet? But Emma’s too excited about the prospect of those newsprint magazines to think about it. By the time Emma realizes there’s nothing in this little closet but printer paper and old yearbooks… Belle’s already closed and locked the door, trapping Emma inside.

So it’s yet another set up, most likely. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic, at least.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Emma can hear Killian’s voice outside the door.

“How many boxes did you say it was, Belle? I’m happy to help haul, but I’m just wondering if we should get a hand cart to assist.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Belle’s voice responds. “Just a few trips for each of us. Right in here…”

And suddenly, Killian’s in the cramped little closet too, and the door is shut and latched behind them. Gee, what a surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emma comments dryly. Somehow, probably on some kind of ridiculous romantic instinct, Killian’s hands have already found their way to her hips. It’s nice, really, ignoring the circumstances.

His face is adorably confused, looking around the room and back to the door and then to Emma’s own face and all over again. “Did she just lock us in here?”

“Yeah, keep up, Jones,” Emma teases. “I assume another stupid set-up effort.”

That makes the confusion disperse alright, a smirk full of promise creeping across his face instead. “If that’s the case… we’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she warns. “There’s a camera in here.”

“So? It’s not like she’s watching the monitors.”

“So, Belle recently started dating Will Scarlet in IT. You want to take the chance she locked us in here, and forgot to have her boyfriend monitor us?”

“Fuck,” Killian swears, dropping his head back in dramatic emphasis. “They’re really going overboard, aren’t they?”

“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, when Emma and Killian have done nothing but talk and try to find some little extra space in the crowded closet, Belle finally lets them out, just in time for the end of Killian’s free period.

“I’m sure you have no idea how that happened,” he comments, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It’s just the weirdest thing,” Belle agrees.

Well, that’s one way of putting it.

(Emma makes it up to him, several times over, at her place that night, with a take-out pizza to boot.)

———

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally here: New Year’s Eve. As long as they make it to midnight and the new year proper without anyone finding out, this whole ridiculous farce is over, and they can be the couple they’ve technically already been since October. Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - but more than they had been before.

They’d spent Christmas together - not that that was anything unusual. With everyone else going to visit family, the two of them often spend the day together, eating take-out Chinese and watching holiday movies. Killian’s got a brother back in England that he makes sure to call, and some years Liam will fly over, but Killian usually saves his visits for summer vacation, when he can stay in whatever little English hamlet his brother calls home for weeks at a time. There’s always something nice about spending the holidays together, just the two of them, but it was extra special this year. Who knew Emma was the kind of girl who wanted to trade kisses under the Christmas tree between swapping gifts?

(Killian, apparently - but then again, he’s always claimed to know her better than she knows herself.)

“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs against her neck, twining his arms about her waist from behind as Emma carefully brushes on mascara. “Few more hours, and then it’s all in the open.”

“Thank god for that, too. After all the PDA we’ve gotten from certain people all these years, I’m looking forward to rubbing it in their faces a bit.”

They carpool to Mary Margaret and David’s, just like they do every year. It’s routine, really; Emma always crashes at Killian’s after the annual New Year’s Eve party so that someone is there to help her with the hangover in the morning. Killian makes better hashbrowns than anyone she knows - even Granny - and they always manage to pull her out of the worst of her misery. He’s good about taking care of her, too, with water and Advil and making sure to shut all the shades as tightly as possible. They even share a bed a lot of years; it’s just that tonight, Emma knows there will be a lot fewer clothes involved.

They drink. They eat. They mingle. Sometimes, they’re together, carefully not touching, and sometimes they drift apart. That’s how this party usually works, after all - and Emma is nothing if not committed to seeing this entire thing through, pretending nothing is different this year, that she and Killian definitely aren’t together. Nothing to see here, folks.

God, she’s so fucking lucky he didn’t cut and run once it became obvious just how much of a competitive lunatic Emma is.

Finally, though, it’s the moment - less than a minute left. Killian is already waiting for her by the patio doors, just like he promised. Emma is only too happy to wind her way over there, grinning when she finally finds herself in front of her boyfriend - about to be secret no longer. Behind them, the assembled drunken crowd loudly counts down the last seconds of the year. They keep their hands determinedly to themselves - just as agreed, so no one can try and claim anything happened before the strike of the new year - but Killian still looks at her with that twinkle in his eyes and wiggling eyebrows. It’s anticipation, and excitement, and a good bit of joy - knowing that soon, this will all be out in the open. No more keeping their hands to themselves.

“You ready for this, love?” he says just loud enough for her to hear as the clock hits ten seconds.

“Hell yeah,” she grins back - because she is. She so is. This has been a long time coming - years in the making, really - and you know what? The whole secrecy may have helped her wrap her head around the whole thing, as well as win her the pot, but she’s ready to take it public. Maybe rub it in everyone’s faces just how happy she is and how she did this on her own schedule. Why the hell not?

Cheers erupt all around them, and Emma’s grin stretches to something that almost hurts her face. Killian looks much the same. “Happy New Year, love,” he says, finally pulling her towards him by the hips. “I think it’ll be our best one yet.”

Fireworks are going on outside, lighting up the snow on the ground, but Emma can’t be bothered to pay attention - not when Killian attacks her lips with purpose, grinning happily into the kiss before she insistently deepens it, slipping her tongue into his mouth to play. It’s just another in a series of kisses, they know - but it’s more than that. It’s a display, in the best way, declaring them them.

Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A pair, a unit, a couple.

“HA!” shrieks someone across the room as their make-out finally gains attention. Emma thinks it might be Ruby - though, at this point, it might be Mary Margaret. Maybe both. It’s definitely Ruby who materializes just as Emma and Killian finally break apart with a laugh. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees - something that seems to short-circuit Ruby’s brain for a moment, if that look on her face is anything to go by. “It really was. And you know what else?”

Ruby shakes her head mutely, that twist of her eyebrows demonstrating that she’s still trying to get her bearings about what the fuck is happening here.

“It’s the new year. That pot is mine.”

“That’s my girl,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Best. New Year’s. Ever.

———

On January 1st of the new year, Emma and Killian - Killian and Emma - they, them, a pair, a unit, a couple take their six hundred dollars in winnings and treat themselves to a goddamn massive lunch at Granny’s. Together. In public. Because they deserve it.

Grilled cheese has never tasted so good to Emma - especially the crumbs off the corners of Killian’s lips.

#csss20 #cssecretsanta2020 #cs ff #captain swan #cs fanfiction #my writing #the set-up scam #secret dating #friends to lovers #oh my god and they were ACCOMPLICES #happy holidays everyone!

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purplehoodiesimon · 3 years ago

Note

Ok so there has been a lot of analysis done on Young Royals about the characters, the scenes, even colors etc . So maybe we should analyze ourselves a little bit. So what scene or character or some specific trait of any of the characters can you relate to the most when it comes to this show on a personal level ? Asking with a lot of love 💙💙. Also send this to however many people you want. I hope all the people who watched the show will answer this.

Ooh this is a fun question, thank you💜.

The first time I watched YR I really didn't think I'd relate to a lot. I'm queer in rural America, this is a show about upper class/nobility at a boarding school in Sweden (on the surface). I actually had this entire argument with my sister when we put it on because she thought "we already have so many stories about rich white kids struggling with their sexuality, can't we have something more relatable?" Which like 1 I'm glad she's grown up with media such that she can think there's too many of any type of queer story and 2 she ended up being completely wrong because the Netflix trailer does NOT do the show justice.

So obviously first and foremost I can relate to the fact this show is about being queer. I relate more to Simon in terms of being open about it but like Wille, labels aren't as important for the specifics. I'm nonbinary and I lean more towards people who are more "feminine" in appearance but actual gender doesn't matter. I'll clarify with bisexual if people are confused, and I call myself gay all the time cause it's fun, but that's about as far as I'll go with labels for gender or sexuality.

I relate to Wilhelm's anxiety like, so much. Every scene where he's having a panic attack I'm just like, oh I know that feeling. I check my pulse at my neck and run my hands through my hair, similar to how he's always rubbing his chest and touching his hair. The bit on the football field actually, where he's starting to break down and he puts his hand up against the side of his head is almost exactly what I do when I'm having a panic attack. My anxiety happens for very different reasons though.

I relate to Sara having Asperger's. I don't think we use that term anymore here in America, it's all just called autism, but I essentially have what used to be called Asperger's. I'm a bit better at social stuff than her, mainly cause my mom threw me in daycare the second I could talk (10 months old) and spent my entire childhood organizing playdates and making sure I had friends around. I really related to that lunch scene though like, Felice had never told Sara that her family would be disappointed in her and while I might have been able to pick it up from the way they were bragging about being an equestrian family, it really was not that obvious. Also not telling Simon or anyone else about August. There's clearly a bit more going on for her than just, not wanting to but I don't tell my family about crushes or boy/girlfriends or like anything romance related really. It's my personal life, they don't need to know the details about my first kiss or anything. They know I'm queer and that's all that matters. So I can actually really relate to her not telling people about the stuff between her and August until it becomes detrimental to other people's lives (like how she told Felice about August kissing her). August is a really terrible choice for her to make and I really hope she does tell someone in s2 so they can tell her to get the fuck away from him but like ngl I understand if she doesn't.

I can kinda relate to August having money issues, and I definitely relate to the way he wants to be the best at everything. I have a few small fears about failure lol. I can relate to Madison's interest in witchy stuff like, I can't prove any of it exists but I also can't prove it doesn't so who knows? Also rocks are just pretty and I like collecting them and if they're doing cool metaphysical stuff to my life, awesome, that's a bonus.

There's also just a lot of general teenager stuff that's relatable in this show, like the way Wille and Simon act around each other in ep1 (totally crushing but scared about making a move). YR is seriously so good at making these characters feel real and relatable. All of them are complex and multi-faceted.

And yea, that's about it! There's a lot of other, smaller things about this show that are relatable but that's the main stuff for me.

#young royals #wilhelm young royals #young royals netflix #simon young royals #wilmon #sara young royals #august young royals #madison young royals #yr analysis

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standingonborderline · 4 years ago

Text

We have philosophy and theft

rating: teen and up audiences

shipps: janus + patton (moceit)

word count: ~12.2k

summary: Soulmates share the same birthday. That is a fact. The hard part is finding the one who really is your match among so many others. Patton has never met anyone who has the same birthday as him, and when Virgil mentions that he knows someone, Patton insists that he set up a date. Except that things take a turn and crimes are commited.

warnings: there is a scene where a dog is locked inside a hot car but he turns out fine ok, i promise

author’s note: this is a general content submission for @moceit-appreciation-week . i originally wrote this in my native language, brazillian portuguese (that if you happen to know you can read it here) and then i translated it and made some adaptations, so... i don’t know, just keep that in mind

[Read it on AO3]

"When is your birthday again?'' Virgil asked calmly, raising his gaze from the computer screen before him. He was sloppy sitting on the padded bench near the cafeteria wall. Above him, hanging on a brick wall, was a huge blackboard displaying a weekly menu written in chalk.

"On the first day." Patton answered, leaning over the square table positioned between him and his friend. He placed his head in one hand, holding the cappuccino glass with the other near him.

"May?''

''Yeah.''

Virgil turned to the computer screen, and Patton could hear the press of keys amid the buzz of the other customers.

"Why is that?''

"So I can write it down." He clarified, and in front of him, there was a huge monthly calendar filled with all the things he needed to do and what was the deadline to accomplish them. Virgil struggled to keep his life organized as much as possible. He was also ignoring the fact that the day was April 13, which meant that the month had begun two weeks ago. The small floating arrow sailed to the bottom of the screen, and he selected the day in question, marked with a letter ''S'' above it. "It's on a Saturday.''

Patton sighed, staring at the marks of deterioration on the wooden table on which they were.

''Yes, it is.''

Virgil turned to him again, raising his head and watching him beneath the purple locks of hair. He stretched his fingers above the keyboard, causing the black nail polish to camouflage between the keys.

"What?"

''I'm going to be twenty-nine, and I haven't met my soulmate yet!" Patton was pitiful. He opened his arms cautiously on the table, lying on it and avoiding reaching the glass that was near him and his friend's computer.

Virgil sighed briefly. Every year the same thing happened, and by that time, he already had a mental list of arguments to offer Patton.

"Well... You know... sometimes people have to try more than once." He shrugged. "Everyone thinks that as soon as they meet someone who has a birthday on the same day they will be perfect. It's a great way to delude yourself. Like it's fate or something." He smiled ironically.

''Yes, I know, but I've never MET anyone who has a birthday on the same day as me!'' Patton stretched both hands, next to Virgil's computer, leaning his chin on the table. ''It's complicated.''

Virgil rolled his eyes and lowered the notebook screen, watching Patton and his honey-colored curls. He knew this was something that bothered Patton, though he couldn't say the same about himself. His expression turned into a grimace, and he lifted the computer screen again, placing it between him and Patton so that it would prevent eye contact.

"I may... know someone who has a birthday on the same day as you."

''What?" Patton rose from the surface immediately, unable to see Virgil's face due to the grayish plaque in front of him. ''Virgil?"

''Um?''

''Who is it?'' He rose from the seat, leaning part of his body over the table, and positioning his face above the screen. He pressed his fingertips next to the camera of the device.

"Who's what?'' Virgil asked, staring at the calendar to avoid Patton's supplicant gaze.

"The person you know who has a birthday on the same day as me.'' Patton clarified, and fought against his instincts that resembled that of a feline wanting attention: were it not for Virgil's fingers on the keyboard, he would have already closed the computer that created an obstacle between them. "I'm down for anyone. You know that."

''Yes, I know, it's not that, it's... is that... You know what, never mind, you're not going to like him." He spoke, denying with his head.

"No, I want to know!" Patton insisted. "Please?"

''Oh, it's just... he's kind of...'' Virgil began, seeking a justification, and finally looked at Patton, who kept all his concentration on him. I don't know, I don't trust him.''

"Why not?" Patton frowned delicately.

''I don't know. It's just... a feeling, I guess.''

''Okay... what do you know about him?"

''That he is a lawyer and that his name is Janus."

''Oh, cool!'' Patton leaned his head on the back of his hands, above the computer monitor. "What else?"

''That's all, actually."

''That's all?''

''Yeah. I told you, I don't trust him. Besides, I think he hides stuff.''

''What kind of stuff?''

Virgil grumbled, gesturing vaguely, and tried:

"About himself?''

Patton contemplated briefly and then shrugged.

"Maybe he's only reserved. Like you.''

Virgil made a face and returned his concentration to the computer.

"So... Are you going to give me his number?"

''Patton... "

''Please?" He smiled, and quickly added, "I'm the one who has to like him, not you. Pretty please?''

Virgil and Patton stared at each other and Virgil remembered why he wanted to avoid eye contact. No one could say no to Patton with bright brown eyes and wavy hair as adorable as a puppy asking for your food. Finally, he gave in.

"Ugh, all right. I'll talk to him. I'll see what I can do.''

''Yay!" Patton clapped his hands. "Thank you!''

''Of course. Whatever.''

With the online calendar still open in front of him, Virgil added a note to remember talking to Janus about the situation.

Outside the Museum of the Classical Age was a large, wide staircase made of whitish marble. At both ends, above the steps, were the handrails leading to the museum's small entrance platform. In the center of it, a third handrail was installed, standing out due to its contrast in relation to the rest of the façade. It had a smaller thickness, being made of iron in black color, and was used much more often by visitors of the daily.

Patton used the first of the steps as a seat, next to the entrance door and next to the left handrail. The shadow of the architecture spread to the pavement ahead, partially taking the path to the staircase and the outdoor parking lot, distributed on the sides of the entrance. The sun shone fervently, but that did not prevent the low temperature or the icy breeze that accompanied it. People would come in and leave the establishment, and Patton was waiting for a face that wasn't familiar to him. The high sound of a tire caught his eye, and he — like other visitors outside — turned to the right, in time to watch the driver of a red pickup truck suddenly stop, too close to a man crossing the parking lot. Immediately, the driver threw several offensive words at the man, who stopped where he was and stared at him for a moment, before walking again and heading to the museum's staircases. With this, the focus of the others also dispersed. Patton followed the man with his gaze as he approached and climbed the steps quickly. The print on his clothing became a blur, being possible to identify only the figure of two wavy things crossed one over the other. He went into the museum, while the driver had been lost sight of, and the situation that had barely begun had already been finished.

Patton waited a few more seconds, preventing his thoughts from focusing on the movement outside that dramatically diminished, and on how no one had addressed him. Hearing a delicate tinkling, he exuded, picking up the cell phone that had the screen facing down in his lap.

''date janus!!'' it read as the contact name at the top of the screen. It was from two minutes ago, at 11:12 am.

''I'm here'', one of the messages said.

''I believe in a section just about the coliseum,'' said another message then.

Below these two, there was an attached photo that appeared to have been taken at a certain distance. It showed the end of a corridor that contained a passage to another room ahead, wider. The walls were of a clear beige tone, and instead of works referring to the time, they were decorated with documents extended and protected by glass. On the sides of the entrance to the next room were two chandeliers, each lifting a small transparent lamp. And among them... there was a woman who spoke and over-gesticulated, actions easy to detect due to the smudges that her face and arms had become. In front of her and with her back to the camera, was a group of teenage students, occupying fully the entrance. On the right, near one of the chandeliers, was a second woman who was also partially with her back to the camera.

Patton stretched his legs, rising from the smooth marble surface and turned around. With a few steps, he walked through the huge double door that was completely extended to the inside, as if with open arms awaiting the visitors.

To the left of the lobby was a large circular reception. From where he was, Patton could see at least three different employees serving people. He thought about joining them and the small line that formed — which he would do on other occasions — but this would probably take several minutes. He analyzed the rest of the environment, the gaze floating over other individuals who walked around the room, the most distant velvety benches leaning against the wall, the huge staircase that stood both to the left and to the right, by the large arches that indicated the entrance to other corridors near where he was. Uncertain, he crossed the room toward the corridor on the right, and came across the same beige walls with chandeliers and the class of students who occupied the passage. However, there did not seem to be anyone else present besides those who were previously in the photo. Patton glanced at his cell phone, which remained with the same three messages, and turned distractedly to look around.

"Boo!" In front of him, a man arose, leaning toward him.

Patton jumped back, giving a sharp scream and taking both hands to his chest reflexively.

The man laughed, and Patton did the same, embarrassed.

''I'm sorry." He said by mere formality, in a drawn tone of voice.

''Of course." Patton sighed, relaxing his shoulders and straightening his jacket with one hand, while the other held the phone. He laughed one more time. "Very... sneaky, aren't you?''

''Yes.'' The man agreed, and he analyzed the boy in front of him from head to toe.

The first thing to be noted in Patton was the huge colored jacket he wore. The colors of the piece alternated between red, blue, green and yellow, and its fabric was soft and comfortable, preventing the wind from passing through it. Underneath it, he wore a white shirt that contained two bottoms above the right side of the collarbone, both of which were composed of colored stripes. One of them had a pink stripe followed by a yellow and a blue one. The other, a little further down, had a black stripe followed by a gray, a white and a purple one. The shirt bar was placed inside the high-waisted style jeans, in a shade of grayish blue. He wore yellow all-star sneakers that covered his ankles, but even so, the man was almost certain that he wore different socks. One of Patton's hands still held one side of the jacket tightly, and he noticed his nails painted in different colors: dark blue, light blue, purple, and black. The hand that held the phone was partially hidden for him, so that it was only possible to see the fingernail of the thumb painted red.

He had brown eyes, protected by the glass and aluminum skeleton that was his rounded glasses and long eyelashes. Beside the nose, the upper part of the cheeks was decorated with small brown dots scattered horizontally. His skin was clear, his lips pink, and on his face fell wavy locks in a shade of faded brown. Apparently, the numerous decorative fruit hair clips were not enough to contain them in place.

The man blinked repeatedly, his face inexpressible. Patton seemed to have come straight from a children's show in which he was the host and had chosen his own costume, resulting, surprisingly, in a beautiful outfit being worn by an even more beautiful person. Lovely, perhaps, was the most appropriate word. ''Cute'' would also work.

But instead of saying any of these things, he remained silent, until finally asking:

"It's Patton, right?"

''Oh... Yes, it is." Patton gulped and held out his hand to him, looking at the other man before him.

His skin was clear, but not as much as his. This was obvious when one noticed the spots on the right side of his face, whose tone was closer to pink than beige. Above them, his hair was partially shaved on the side, and the dark brown locks were reserving on the left side, long enough to reach the length of the cheeks. At the height of the neck, it was possible to see the white collar of a shirt, hidden by the black sweater he wore on top. His hands were involved by the pockets of black pants with pleats, and he wore brown combat boots.

"Janus." He said, shaking Patton's hand and revealing the yellow glove he used.

Patton alternated glances between the three things that most intrigued him in the person in front of him: the eyes, the stains on his face and the gloves. Before he could decide which one to ask first, another detail stood out for looking familiar to him, and he meticulously observed the pattern of two dark green snakes crossing one over the other in Janus' sweater.

"Hey, weren't you in the parking lot earlier?"

''What?" He asked, slightly confused, before remembering. "Oh, yes, I was. I love the experience of almost getting hit first thing in the morning." He mocked, and Patton noticed it was the same lazy tone of voice he had used to apologize moments before.

"Yeah... there are people who get very angry in traffic anyway." Patton changed the subject and stood beside Janus, only to discover that he was reasonably short compared to the other man. In front of them, the student class was gone. ''Shall we?''

That said, the two walked down the rest of the corridor and entered the next room.

By the next thirty minutes, Patton had already made two puns about them being in a museum.

He maybe got confused during a third attempt that resulted in comparing Janus to a work of art. Maybe.

Either way, Janus tried his best to hide his laughter and apparent redness on his face. He failed miserably in both.

Janus had the impression that Patton was looking too much at him, specifically at his face. He decided to clarify that the spots on the right side were the main symptom of a skin disease called vitiligo.

Patton said he had freckles on his face, though this was evident.

Janus mentioned having a pet snake named Ophelia. Patton assumed he was joking. Two factors made him realize that he was not: Janus' expression and tone of voice remained the same throughout the conversation, and Patton's suspicion that he had a forked tongue.

Not that he was looking at Janus' mouth or anything.

Patton was a high school philosophy teacher.

He liked plants. He talked about the collection of succulents that stood on the window sill of his room, and their names: Angela, Ashley, Audrey, Alice, Amelia, Aurora, and a few others. The latter was in reference to the Disney princess.

Janus was pretty sure he'd mentioned an Ariel too.

Janus liked the Marvel movies.

Patton preferred DC movies. His favorite was Shazam.

They talked about how Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were alike.

Patton told about how his students appeared with the so-called new ''memes'' every week, and that he didn't quite understand how they worked. This did not prevent him from using them the wrong way through his attempts. Sometimes these same students spent most of their class with their heads down, and Patton knew they were having a bad day. So he didn't bother them.

Janus told of the questionable things his colleagues in the legal field did. Among them, having love affairs with clients who were in divorce proceedings, and obtaining evidence by illegal means. He wouldn't admit it, but it was fun to be able to tell these things to someone who wasn't part of the business —and who therefore couldn't use them against someone he knew. Patton seemed shocked by the reports, but also interested.

An hour and a half later, the number of people visiting the historic facility decreased considerably as most went out to eat.

Patton stopped in the lobby, away from the doors. He had taken off his colorful jacket and now held it over his forearms, gathered near his body. He turned to Janus, not far from him. "There's a diner down the street." He remarked, drawing the attention of the other young man who looked up at him. "Do you want to go eat? We can get there by foot.''

''Yes." He said without thinking. But who could say no to Patton? Patton who had his nails painted in different colors, Patton who had chosen an outfit that seemed to have come out of an eighties themed movie, Patton who had named his plants, Patton who laughed at the very puns he made at any opportunity, Patton who cared for the wellbeing of his students, although it was not his responsibility. Patton.

He was so sweet. So lovely. Optimistic. Polite. That wouldn't work. Janus had to make something about that. He just didn't know what yet.

They went down the street, heading for the establishment. The silver clouds hid the sun, and the winds remained sharp enough to cause chills. They walked side by side, most of the time in silence, and Patton pointed to some birds that were landed on the electric wire across the street. They arrived at the site and outside the gravel floor formed an outdoor parking lot, similar to what the museum also had. Further away from the entrance, Janus noticed a red pickup truck, too much like the one he had seen earlier when he arrived at the museum. Ahead of him, Patton entered and held the door for him, and the two took slow steps as they entered the venue, searching for an empty table amid the crowd of customers. Quietly, they went to the service desk to place their orders, infiltrating amid the lines that were mixing due to being side by side. Patton raised his arm to fix the sleeve of his shirt, but in doing so, he accidentally hit someone next to him who was coming in the opposite direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He spoke immediately, gathering his arm close to him and placing his hand on his opposite shoulder.

''Yeah, yeah, whatever." The man in the plaid shirt grumbled. Getting as close as he could to the service desk, he sneaked through the thick line. Still, he wasn't far from the couple. "Lady! Hey, lady!''

Patton took a step to the left, approaching Janus who now stared at the intruder with his eyes half-closed.

The man began to call out for the attendant at the counter a little further from him, saying something about having received the wrong order. The attendant politely asked him to go to the end of the line, but the same could not be said of the other people around who were waiting to place their orders. Unidentified voices were startled in the buzz, complaining about the man and also asking — demanding — that he go to the end of the line. The man ignored the claims, insisting that he was paying for an order he had not made, while the attendant reiterated that they had delivered exactly what he had requested. Janus and Patton watched the situation unfold attentively.

Looking at the man, Janus recognized him as the same one he had seen earlier, the same driver of the truck who had almost run him over in the morning. And with that, he had an idea.

"I can make a new order for you. " He volunteered, and the man finally turned to him, analyzing him from head to toe.

"Aren't you that guy who was at the museum?''

Janus blinked repeatedly, giving a fake smile.

"I was... Oh, my God, you were the guy in the pickup truck, weren't you? I'm so sorry, I wasn't seeing where I was going!" He explained, taking one hand to his chest dramatically.

Patton looked at the two, confused, but paying more attention to janus' tone of voice, which had suddenly changed. It was completely different from the dragged tone he had used during the time they were in the museum, as if he were an actor playing a role.

"Yeah... you should pay more attention anyway."

''Oh, I will for sure, sir...?'' Janus asked, offering his hand to him.

''John." He greeted.

"Is that short for Jonathan?''

''No. Just John. And you're...?"

''Oh... I'm...'' Janus kept his forced smile, and looked away. Through the big window in the back, on the other side of the room, you could see the street outside. A large bus stopped at a traffic light, the ad on the side displaying Louis Vuitton's new fall-winter collection. Quickly, he added: ''Louis."

''Um. " John made a grimace and examined him again. ''Such a cocky name, huh?''

Janus' smile was slowly becoming terrifying.

"What's wrong with your order?" He asked, changing the subject, and felt Patton gently pulling the sleeve of his sweater.

"I had ordered a large burger and a medium Coke, and they gave me the opposite.'' John offered the receipt to Janus, who checked it superficially.

''Do you know what? I'll make this order for you again, and then it's all settled. You don't have to pay anything else.

"Um. Alright." John agreed with the same angry expression that Janus had seen all day, and walked away, ending the conflict in line.

Janus watched as he disappeared into the crowd, and his fake smile turned into an expression of repulsion. He disguised it before turning to Patton, who called him:

"What are you doing?" He had furrowed eyebrows, looking between Janus and the path John had taken before he disappeared. "Your name's not Louis."

''Well... Maybe he's just having a bad day." Janus shrugged, turning his eyes. "Maybe he just needs... a good deed.''

Patton made a grimace, uncomfortable, and the two moved forward as the line progressed.

"I didn't like him. He almost ran you over."

''Pff, don't worry.'' Janus guided, gesticulating vaguely. "We're not going to be in his company for long anyway.''

Arriving at the service desk, Janus only made John's order. Patton barely paid attention to his, ordering quickly. Leaving the line with the orders, the two met the man at a table. Janus and Patton sat side by side, while John stood at the opposite end. When he began to eat, his manners towards the two changed, and he magically became more polite. He began to chatter, for the most part, complaining about his work that neither Patton nor Janus had paid enough attention to know what it was. Janus stayed as far away from the table as possible, strategically holding one of the menus raised in front of him. Patton ate only half of his order, looking out the window most of the time. About half an hour passed with Janus presenting a friendly personality.

"Well, the chat is fine, but if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.'' John informed as he rested his hands on the table and stood up.

"Oh, is it?" Janus looked up at him, as did Patton. "Don't you want to leave your stuff here? I'll take care of it.''

John frowned and looked at Janus and Patton.

"My stuff?''

"Yes," Janus shrugged. "It's going to be quick anyways.''

John hesitated, but gave in. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he left his wallet, cell phone and car keys on the table. Janus glanced at the belongings.

"Five minutes." John said, moving away from the table.

"Five minutes." Janus echoed, following him with his gaze.

John went to the back of the diner and walked through a door, disappearing from view.

Janus turned to the table and, with one hand, took the cell phone and keys. With the other one, he held Patton's.

''Let's go.'' Janus stood up quickly from the table, taking with him a Patton who intertwined his own legs due to the rush.

"What?! Where?!

''Let's go!'' Janus insisted as they passed through the cafeteria's front door, practically running.

They crossed part of the parking lot until they stopped near a red pickup truck. Up close, it was brighter, cleaner. Janus placed the keys into the lock and turned them, unlocking the car with a muffled sound. He opened the door and walked in, and Patton, on the passenger side, did the same without thinking. With the two inside the car and with their respective doors closed, Janus put the key in the ignition and turned on the car, immediately backing up and leaving the cafeteria parking lot. In a matter of seconds, the establishment was left behind.

The road followed mostly straight, with both Janus and Patton silent. As they stopped at a traffic light, Janus turned to Patton, who analyzed the inside of the car. He could practically see the gears spinning on his head as he absorbed what had just happened. Janus put on his seat belt, and they started walking again. Patton blinked repeatedly, lowering his head.

''Janus?'

''Um?''

''Did you stole a car?'' Patton asked slowly, turning to the man next to him.

''Huh... it's not stealing, actually. Robbery committed without violence is theft.'' He glanced at Patton, and he looked both angry and confused.

''This is no time for word games!'' Patton protested, and fixed his glasses in place. ''Stealing is a crime!''

Janus rolled his eyes.

''Yes, I know.''

''Then why did you do it?''

''Why not do it?'' Janus asked, smiling.

Patton stammered.

''Because it's wrong!''

''Well, 'John' kinda deserved it.'' He sneered, throwing the man's cell phone on the dashboard in front of Patton.

''What? No!''

''We both saw how he almost ran me over. Honestly, we are doing society a favor by taking this car away from him. Who knows who else he might hit?''

''No! This isn't - we shouldn't - he - you can't just go around stealing people's stuff!''

''I just did.'' Janus shrugged, and glared at Patton. ''Put on your seat belt.''

Patton huffed and did as requested, frustrated. He wanted to protest, to get out of the car. But of the many thoughts swirling around in his mind, none of them could turn into a coherent verbal sentence. And the car was moving, and he had just put on his seat belt. Janus' reassurance that he had just committed a crime did not improve the feeling he had of anger and shock. Janus smiled, opening the window on his side, realizing how his plan to push Patton away was working. Patton crossed his arms, turning his attention to his window.

''I don't like this.'' He grumbled, and Janus didn't answer.

A few minutes passed, and they continued their journey in silence, as Janus pondered where they were going now.

Slowly, Patton turned to the center of the car and took a closer look. Next to the steering wheel was a small glass display accompanied by several buttons and a few square holes below. He blinked repeatedly, bringing his hand to one of the round buttons. He carefully turned it and a low noise sounded.

''There's a radio.'' He pointed distractedly.

Janus alternated glances between the road and Patton who was playing with the buttons on the device. Patton turned one of them, and a man began to talk about how the city government used the money it received from the citizens. He turned the same knob one more time. A female voice sang a song that, from the instruments, seemed to be from the 1950s. He switched to another button, and a host announced that the guest about to give an interview was a female singer he had never heard of. He did this with the other three buttons, until the stations ended and the radio returned to its initial silence. Patton held up a long white cable that was plugged into one of the radio's inputs near the buttons. It had electrical tape on the end that was loose. Patton leaned back in his seat again, holding the cable close to him.

''I wonder if it's supposed to connect to the cell phone.''

''You can try it if you like.'' Janus said, not caring much.

With some difficulty Patton took his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and plugged in the long cable. Immediately, the small squared-shaped radio display showed the words "music library". Patton glided his fingers across the screen, searching for something. He gently touched the surface with his index finger, and seconds later the sounds of a drum and a guitar began to sound from the radio. Janus frowned as another guitar solo followed and a man began to sing.

Life's like the road that you travel on,

when there's one day here and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend and sometimes you stand

sometimes you turn your back to the wind

He looked at the radio display, which named the song as 'Life is a Highway' by Rascal Flatts. Next to him, Patton began to do what he deduced was a dance from the unusual movements. A few more seconds passed, and more and more of the music seemed familiar, until Janus ventured to ask:

''Isn't that the music from Cars? The Disney movie?''

''Yes, it is!''

''Oh, my goodness.'' Janus rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to the road.

''Do you like it?'' Patton asked, smiling broadly and leaning back in his seat.

''Not exactly. But it doesn't bother me either.''

''It's pretty good!'' Patton said, doing random dance steps, as far as his belt would allow.

Janus sighed, choosing to let Patton have some fun.

The song ended, and before it could start again, Patton picked up his cell phone and selected a different one. It started with a soft piano and a female voice singing, until the rhythm changed drastically, becoming more agile.

''What is that?''

''Holding Out For a Hero!'' Patton replied, smiling.

''But that's not Bonnie Tyler's voice.'' Janus pointed out.

''Oh, no, it's Shrek's version.'' Patton explained, looking at his cell phone and at Janus.

''Oh...''

Patton watched Janus as he exhibited no reaction to the music. Instead, he kept his attention on the cars passing in front of him, trying to join them. When the song ended, Patton selected a different song. And another. And another. And another. And in none of them did Janus show any interest. Nor did Janus mention the fact that they were all part of the soundtrack, themes, or created specifically for film or television animation work. At one point, Patton sank down on the bench he was on, his knees pressed against each other.

''What kind of music do you like?'' He asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and with anticipation, since it was a topic that had not been discussed during their date at the museum.

Janus turned towards him and watched Patton with his cell phone on one leg, still connected to the car radio.

''Oh, you're not going to like it.''

''Oh, c'mon, I wanna know!'' Patton insisted, and bowing his head he muttered: ''I didn't like that you stole a car either, but we're here.''

Janus sighed, and as they approached a traffic light, he held out his hand toward Patton, who handed him his cell phone. He tapped the screen a few times, and without saying anything, handed the phone back to Patton as the melody started to play and the car started moving again.

The music started with a piano and violin, and soon a woman's voice began to sound, singing lazily. Patton glanced at the radio display, which read "Black Hole Sun" by Haley Reinhart. The drive went on, with the music being the only noise between them, and Patton turned his attention to the man next to him.

The sun swayed distantly behind him as they passed different buildings and residences. The open window gave way to a strong breeze, which made the long strands of his brown hair frame his well-defined face. He kept only one hand wrapped tightly around the black leather steering wheel, while his left elbow rested above the window sill and the white sleeves of his shirt swung gently in the wind. The elastic band ran across his chest, sinking down and camouflaging itself to the black sweater, cutting through the snake print. He had a look of serenity, fixed on the road ahead. He was not bothered by the fact that he had stolen a car, Patton noticed. Not only that, but he was confident. And that was enough to create a charm. Patton mentally listed the things he knew Janus was, for sure, by now. Lawyer. Thief. Charming. He smiled softly, and Janus turned to him, somewhat embarrassed to catch Patton studying him.

''What?'' he asked, frowning.

''You have one eye of each color.'' Patton pointed calmly.

He really did. Patton had already noticed that Janus had different eyes when they were at the museum, but he couldn't say specifically how. Now he had found out: one of them was brown, while the other was green.

''Oh... yes, I do.'' Janus touched his hair, making a failed attempt to get it out of his face. ''It's called heterochromia. It's the only hetero thing about me.''

Patton's smile widened twice as much, and he leaned toward Janus.

''You made a pun.'' he said, holding back his happiness.

''What? No, I didn't.'' Janus staggered, alternating his attention between the road and Patton beside him.

''Yes, you did.''

''No, I didn't.''

''Yes, you did!'' Patton started to laugh, grabbing Janus' arm with both hands and squeezing gently.

Oh, no, Janus thought, watching Patton with wide eyes. He had made a mistake.

Patton kept laughing for the next five minutes, and slowly calmed down. When he stopped completely, he was leaning against the window beside him, which remained closed. He sniffled, taking a deep breath as he pulled himself together and some random song played at a low volume on the radio. There was a brief silence. Suddenly something caught both boys' attention: from the cell phone lying on the dashboard of the car, which previously belonged to John, came an alarm. Except that it was no ordinary alarm clock alarm, whose purpose was to wake people up, but the sound was more like radar. Patton reached out and grabbed the device, and with it closer, the two of them could see the blinking red dot in the center of the screen. Around it, circular waves were forming, and at the top of the screen, there was the phrase ''Find my phone''.

''Oh my God! Oh my God, it's tracking us! Now what?'' Patton asked, looking around frantically for a solution.

''Give it to me.'' Janus asked, switching hands on the steering wheel and extending one of them to Patton. He handed him the cell phone and Janus glanced at the screen.

''Dammit. I thought it would take him longer to do something about it.'' He spoke before tossing the device out the open window without hesitation.

In shock, Patton looked at Janus and the outside of the car, which had turned into a straight deserted road. He gulped.

''You threw the phone out of the window.''

''I did. Problem solved.'' He smiled sarcastically, looking at Patton. Patton sighed and leaned back in his seat.

''Right.''

The drive went on without any major problems.

About fifteen minutes later, Patton turned to Janus after spending most of the time looking out the window.

''Are we going somewhere?''

Janus stammered, being taken aback.

''Why?''

''Because... there is a mall nearby.'' Patton said, pressing his index finger against the glass of the window.

''You want to go to the mall?''

''Oh... yes.''

''With a stolen car?''

''But-it's just-there's-'' Patton sighed. ''I planned on doing more after the date, I didn't know it was going to last all day. And I didn't know you were going to steal a car!''

Janus looked at Patton and outside the window behind him. Not far away was a large building that was expanding horizontally.

''Fine, whatever.'' Janus turned his attention back to the road and turned on the right turn signal.

As they drove out of the parking lot, inside the building, and towards the stores, Patton told that he had gardening as a hobby — something that Janus had already noticed when he mentioned all the succulent plants that had names beginning with A. He wanted to plant a vegetable garden, but didn't know much about how to do that yet. And for that, he would need the proper tools and clothes. The first place they went was a clothing store. Once there, they eventually drifted off as Patton looked for something specific and Janus just didn't care to keep up.

He wandered distractedly around the store, looking at the clothes on display. There was a wall filled only with women's suits, starting with neutral colors of gray and dark blue. Then a red one appeared. A pink one. After that followed several that had their lapels and pockets printed for some reason. On the other side of the store, a large table displayed themed shirts with Star Wars character prints. Next to it was a second table that was almost identical, but this one contained Harry Potter themed clothes. A long rack had colorful bomber jackets, alternating between one color until it got to the jeans jackets with kitten prints and pieces of pizza on the back. Hanging high above it was a section of long trench coats in solid colors. Most were beige or gray, and investigating to the back of the rack, Janus came across a yellow one. Not a neon, vibrant, strong yellow, but a more subdued, darker, a shade of ''mustard yellow,'' as some palettes named it, considering that the color was closer to brown. Stretching out his arm, he removed the hanger and examined the overcoat. Its fabric was dense, warm, and it had small strips to be buttoned on each sleeve. At waist height there was also a long belt in the same color, which was tied at the back with a bow. He pulled it over his forearm and walked back through the store to a section that contained several long-sleeved blouses. Some had a high collar, others had zippers on the back. Apart from these details, they didn't vary much. He looked through the pieces, and finally decided on a light gray one with a turtleneck. He held both the jacket and the blouse together, stretching them out in front of him, observing how they would look together.

''Boo!'' said a voice behind him, at the same time as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and immediately released them.

Janus hissed, making a sort of high-pitched animal-like sound, and gathered his arms closer to himself. Beside him, Patton appeared, laughing with one hand in front of his mouth and holding clothes with the other arm.

''What was that? It sounded like...'' Patton sniffled, catching his breath. ''One of those little snakes! With a rattle!''

''Oh, it's you.'' Janus sighed and rolled his eyes, ignoring Patton's comment and the fact that he felt his cheeks warming up.

''That was payback for the museum.'' Patton said, and crossed his arms over his chest. ''Listen, I'm going to try on these clothes, so...''

They looked at each other in silence.

''...You're staying here, right? In the store?''

''No, Patton, I'm strategically waiting that you're busy so that I can run off and leave you alone like I did with a stranger in the diner.'' Janus spoke ironically, and in silence, Patton watched him with big eyes, worthy of a Japanese animation. ''I'm not leaving without you, okay? If that's what you want to know.''

Janus looked at the small set of clothes he had in hand and at Patton beside him, before stretching out his arm and offering them to him.

''Try these on too.''

Slowly, Patton took both pieces and examined them.

''Why?''

''Just try them on.'' Janus shrugged.

''Okay...'' Patton added them to the clothes he already had with him. ''But then I'll choose an outfit for you too!''

''What? No.'' He grimaced.

''Yes! It'll be fun, come on!''

''We're not going to play dress-up.''

''Why not?''

''Because!''

''You picked out a little outfit for me.''

Janus grumbled, stuffing both hands in his pockets.

''Fine.''

''Yay! Come on, come on!'' Patton jumped up and down and gestured for the young man to follow him. Grudgingly, Janus did so.

The two of them walked through the different sections of the store, as Patton analyzed the most diverse items. A light green shirt with buttons down the front and a pineapple print caught his eye, but after one more look at Janus, he returned it to the rack. It was so easy to find something Patton liked; as long as it looked colorful or fun it was more than enough. He also resisted the temptation to pick up a salmon colored t-shirt, whose right side pocket had a flamingo design, so that it looked like the animal was stored in the small compartment.

''Oh, what do you like to do?'' Patton asked suddenly.

''What do you mean?'' Janus frowned, intrigued.

''Sort of like a hobby. I like gardening," he exemplified what he had said before. ''What's your hobby?''

''Oh... uh...''

Patton stopped by another booth where long-sleeved shirts were spread out.

''I play the piano.'' Janus finally answered. Not that it wasn't true, but it was more of a... half-truth.

''Really?'' Patton turned to him, smiling and holding one of the shirts from the exhibit close to him.

''Yes, really.''

Yes, he could play the piano. And yes, in terms of personal interests, he was busier producing an outfit identical to that of Marvel's Doctor Stephen Strange. His fingers had seen more needle points than piano keys in recent years, but that was not relevant.

''Oh, that's so cool! I kind of started to learn how to play the ukulele, but...''

''...But?'' -He arched one eyebrow.

''I don't know, I'm not very good at it. I guess it's just lack of practice.'' Patton remarked as he watched a mannequin a little taller than he, wearing a scarf and unfurl the cloth from around his neck.

Janus squinted his eyes and made a mental note of the fact.

They walked around the store for a few more minutes until Patton chose a hat. He held up three of the pieces he had with him and held them out to Janus.

''There! Oh, we can play catwalk too!''

''No, no... no...'' Janus shook his head, holding the clothes that Patton had handed him, and the two of them headed for the fitting rooms. ''No, we'll see about that after we've tried them on, okay?''

''Okay!'' Patton agreed, and, getting out in front of them, took the first fitting room he saw with the door open, closing it behind him.

Janus stopped where he was and sighed, coming to the conclusion that living with Patton was like living with a child. He didn't know exactly what opinion to form of this, but he chose to put the thought aside and walked into one of the fitting rooms.

A few minutes passed before Janus heard Patton coming out of his fitting room, sounding surprised. Wearing the clothes Patton had chosen for him, he opened the door and stepped out of the booth. With his back to him, Patton stood in front of a large mirror that took up the wall at the end of the fitting room aisle. His new light gray turtleneck blouse was tucked into his jeans, and over that, he wore a large dark yellow trench coat, the length of which extended just below the knee. The pants left a small part of his legs showing, so that the yellow all-star sneakers that went down to his ankles drew attention.

''I look like someone...'' Patton thought to himself, moving from side to side and letting the bar of his jacket swing. With a jump, he turned to Janus behind him. ''The tenth Doctor! From Doctor Who!''

Janus looked him up and down, and the only similarities to the character in question were the coat and the sneakers. Even though part of the outfit had been chosen by someone else, Patton still looked like the host of a children's show.

Patton also looked at him, bringing both hands to his chest, below the collarbone.

''You look so pretty! And stylish!''

Janus didn't answer, and instead crossed his arms, cutting off eye contact. His clothes still had dark shades. Like Patton, he was still wearing the same pants and shoes that he had chosen for the date at the museum — a black pair of pleated pants and brown boots - and like Patton, he had also tucked the dark gray long-sleeved shirt into his pants. The difference was that Janus had two extra accessories: a plaid scarf, in beige and black, and a black straight-brimmed hat, large enough to partially cover his face. Janus hoped that it was doing its job, and he put it on, pretending that his face was not getting a blush.

Excitedly, Patton stood next to him, and then the two of them were standing facing the mirror, where the critical difference in height was noticeable.

''It's such a serious outfit... but I like it!'' Patton spoke up, with both hands in his jacket pockets. ''Why did you choose this?''

''I thought it was something you could wear to class.''

''Oh!'' Patton wiggled again, smiling. ''I hadn't even thought of that, but it's a good idea.''

Patton turned to him.

''How about you? Do you like your outfit?''

''No, it's hideous.'' Janus answered lazily, rolling his eyes.

''Oh, really?'' Fearful, Patton leaned back, analyzing his choices. ''I thought it was nice... I tried to pick something that would go with you. I can try again if you like.''

Next to him, Patton looked genuinely upset, and a wave of panic rose in his throat.

''It was irony.'' Janus clarified. ''I liked it.''

''You liked it?'' Patton asked again, and he nodded. ''Yay! I'm going to go change, and then we can go, okay?''

''Sure.'' Janus agreed as Patton returned to the fitting room.

But when Patton left the booth for the last time, wearing his normal clothes — the ones he had chosen for the date at the museum — Janus was still wearing the clothes he had chosen. He was leaning close to the door of his fitting room, now open, looking distractedly at the yellow gloves he was wearing. Patton stopped next to him, in silence, until he asked:

''Aren't you going to change your clothes?''

''Oh, no, not really.'' Janus said, picking up the shirt and sweater he had been wearing. Before Patton could say anything, he added while smiling charmingly: ''Shall we?''

Patton frowned, but agreed, and they walked back to the store. Janus was further ahead, while Patton looked for the cashier, and he almost bumped into Janus when he stopped abruptly.

''Excuse me, sir," a young man started to say, approaching Janus and looking at him. He wore a badge hanging around his neck. ''Are these the clothes from the store?''

Janus turned his face slowly in the opposite direction. Next to him was a stand of sunglasses, and he looked at them closely.

''Look, sir, it is against store policy to wear the clothes outside the fitting room without paying first.''

Silently, Patton looked between Janus and the store employee. Janus took a pair of white, black and gray sunglasses, whose lenses prevented others from seeing his eyes, and put them on.

''I'm going to need you to go back to the fitting room and change, otherwise it will be characterized as theft, and I'll have to call security.'' The boy explained calmly, and Patton's eyes widened.

Janus wove the plaid scarf around his neck and adjusted his hat, so that it hid the part of his face that was closest to the employee.

''Is that so?'' Janus asked, with a heavy foreign accent.

''Yes.'' The boy confirmed, holding both hands in front of his body.

Janus grumbled, turning his attention back to the sunglasses stand.

''If I had known that I would be treated like this I wouldn't even have come here. But please, call security.''

The employee blinked repeatedly and leaned toward Janus.

''Excuse me?''

''It's just that where I come from it is very normal for customers to wear the clothes they are going to buy while they are in the store.'' Janus continued sarcastically and with his accent. ''I personally think it is absurd to be called a thief when I have done nothing wrong!''

Behind him, Patton was starting to make faces due to his confusion. From the stand, Janus picked up a pair of sunglasses whose lenses were blue hearts, and offered them to Patton.

''Try this one on, honey, it suits you.''

Hesitantly, Patton took the glasses and held them out in front of him.

''You’re still violating store policy.'' The employee repeated.

''Are you really going to call security on me?''

''I'm sorry, and you would be...?''

''Alfred Hitchcoppolucas," Janus announced, sliding his index finger and thumb along the brim of his hat. ''Director of Psycho Godfather Wars.''

In shock, Patton approached Janus and the clerk.

''Excuse me...'' He started to say, but Janus purposely put himself between him and the other boy.

''Please, do call security. So this could end up in a lawsuit against your store, it will be so much fun!'' Janus, Alfred said, gesturing and smiling exaggeratedly, pretending.

''Oh... oh.'' The employee was flabbergasted and started stammering, trying to fix the situation. ''No, no, that won't be necessary, sir. I am so sorry for the inconvenience, actually, you know what? You don't have to pay for anything. I'll turn off the alarms in the store, so you can go, okay?''

Patton watched as the scene unfolded before him, and of all the absurd things to question, he wondered if Alfred Hitchcoppolucas was a real person.

''Oh, really?'' Alfred asked with a strong accent and a drawling tone of voice.

''Yes, really. I'm very serious.'' The employee started to walk away, almost tripping over his own feet. ''I'll do it now, okay?'' He said, and with that, disappeared from sight.

Immediately, Janus broke off his fake smile and turned to Patton. With one hand he lowered his sunglasses minimally, looking Patton over them.

''You were saying?''

For the second time that day, Patton had more than one thought swirling around in his head, and there was a certain difficulty in turning them into comprehensible sentences.

''Who is Alfred Hitchcoppolucas?''

''A director.''

''No, no, you're not Alfred something, you're Janus...'' Patton interrupted himself when he realized that he didn't know his last name. ''Why did you lie to him?''

Janus shrugged and smiled.

''Because I can.''

''No! No, you can't just go around tricking people!''

''Why not?''

''Because it's wrong!'' Patton justified, and at the same time Janus repeated the exact same thing, but as if it were a question in a debauched tone.

''Think through the bright side,'' One by one, Janus removed the paper labels from the pieces he was using. ''You're saving money.''

With a few steps, he stepped aside and picked up two ecobags that were displayed on a low hanger. He put the tags and his original clothes in one of them, and offered the other to Patton.

''Shall we go?''

Hesitant and a little upset, Patton held up the bag and put all the products he was holding into it. He considered heading to the cashier and paying for them anyway, but before he could find his location in the place, Janus started walking again, heading toward the store doors. Patton followed him a reasonable distance, and as they walked through the silent detectors, Patton updated the list he had in mind.

Lawyer.

Thief.

Charming.

Liar.

And despite the questionable attributes, his indecision about what opinion to form of Janus remained haunting him.

Hours later, they left the mall, and the sun had given way to the moon and the stars that kept it company.

The outside was cold enough to give it goose bumps, and as they made their way to the pickup truck, Patton gripped the ends of his windbreaker jacket, ready to zip it up. But before he could do that, something else caught his eye. He stopped where he was, noticing how on the other side of the outdoor parking lot, a little way off, there was an enclosed car with a large dog inside. He stood there for a few seconds, watching the scene and walked hurriedly towards the car, not even noticing that Janus was walking steps ahead of him.

''... And that is why carrots are the worst vegetables.'' He concluded a monologue, and immediately looked both ways, noticing Patton's absence. Janus spun around in time to see him walking away toward an unfamiliar car. ''Patton?''

The young man continued walking.

''Patton!'' he called, and walked quickly in the same direction.

''Hi.'' Patton greeted the animal in as calm a voice as he could while resting his hands against the closed windows of the car. The dog inside, a golden retriever, turned to him, panting and blinking. ''Are you stuck in there?''

Patton touched different places on the car door, as if it would magically open for him. He reached for the handle and pulled, but nothing happened. It was locked. Of course it was locked.

Janus caught up with him and stopped beside him.

''What are you doing?'' he asked exasperated.

''There's a dog in here.'' Patton said, turning briefly to him, his eyebrows raised together. ''He's hot.''

Janus looked over to the side of the car, seeing the dog sitting in the back seats.

''And?''

''We have to get him out of here!'' Patton again touched random parts of the door. ''But there's no way, it's locked!''

Patton considered his options. He could try to go back to the mall and find the owner of the car — and the dog. But how could he do this? The person could be anywhere, in any store. What if it was an employee? He could have been working by now. There was no personal information on the outside of the car, and trying to find the owner by blindly searching for him could take hours.

Janus frowned and looked at Patton and the golden retriever inside, his pink tongue falling out of his mouth.

''It's not our dog,'' He thought about saying, which meant it wasn't their problem. But neither was the red pickup truck parked a short distance away, and that hadn't stopped him.

Besides, Patton remained with the same expression of sadness and concern on his face, touching the car door.

Janus bowed his head and thought about what they had. The keys to the pickup truck. Cell phones. Eyeglasses. A hat. Some gardening tools, small but firm, just like the car keys. A jacket. An overcoat, long and dense. Belts. Sneakers... Sneakers. His gaze hovered over Patton's pair of all-star sneakers at ankle height, the yellow glowing against the darkness of the concrete floor at night.

''Take off the shoelace.''

''What?'' Patton turned to him, confused.

''Take off your shoelace.'' Janus ordered, raising his head and looking at him.

Patton hesitated briefly before leaning against the car door, bending forward and raising one of his legs to chest height. After a few seconds of struggling, he pulled out the long line and held it out in front of Janus.

''Keep an eye out for anyone coming.'' He said casually, taking the shoelace.

''What do you mean?'' Patton muttered, standing on tiptoe and looking around, not knowing exactly how to warn him if anyone approached.

Janus glanced down at Patton's feet, interlacing the shoelace, noticing how one of his socks was green, and the other, red.

The thread now had a small knot with an opening in the center, which could be closed by pulling on one side. He slipped the shoelace through the doorway, and luckily the rubber didn't stop it. The dog, noticing the narrow line above him, raised his long nose and sniffed it briefly, not caring about it. Janus crouched down, facing the door and moving his arms carefully as he lowered the wire. Standing next to him, Patton alternated glances between what Janus was doing — which Patton didn't understand anyways — and his surroundings, nervously. He couldn't see any people outside, but entering the parking lot, a car sped up the path behind them, and Patton's eyes widened.

''A car just drove by.''

''Was it a police car?''

''No.''

''Then it doesn't matter.''

Janus kept his gaze fixed on the inside of the car. The dog sniffed the shoelace once more as it hovered over the door latch pin between them. He closed the knot around the latch tightly and pulled both ends up, causing the small latch to lift.

The door was open.

He exhaled and stood, and Patton smiled at him, hopefully. Janus pulled the handle and the door opened, and immediately, the golden retriever jumped out of the car, but he couldn't get very far: strapped to the headrest of the seat, a leash held him down. Janus leaned forward, looking for the clasp on the dog's collar, but before he could find it, Patton moved in front of him and rested one knee on the car seat.

''Patton!''

''Wait!'' He brought both hands to the piece of steel supporting the headrest. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the pitch inside the vehicle, and meanwhile he was digging his nails into the leash, pulling it in different directions. Eventually, it began to loosen, and written in blue on the red fabric was a name: Steve.

With the leash in one hand, Patton got out of the car and took a few steps back. Once he had moved far away enough, Janus took the shoelace and lowered the pin again, closing the door and locking it. The two, now three, crossed the parking lot quickly, avoiding running. They opened the back of the truck, and with a few finger snaps above the compartment, the dog jumped in. Now almost at his height and with better lighting, Patton noticed that the collar around his neck also had the colors blue and red. Its pendant consisted of circles in those colors with the addition of white, and in the center, there was the silhouette of a dog's paw.

Steve, he thought. Blue, red and white. The yellowish fur. Steve in reference to Steve Rogers. Captain America.

They turned around, getting into the cab of the car, and with the same agility they had left the diner hours earlier, they were now leaving the parking lot behind.

Janus drove in silence, without a destination in mind.

Patton bowed his head, looking at his white shirt that now contained gray stains that he didn't know how he had gotten.

The drive went on for a few minutes, until, looking out the window, Patton recognized the road they were passing by.

''There's a bridge up ahead.'' he pointed out. ''We could stop and let Steve drink some water.''

Janus frowned, glancing at the back of the car.

''Steve?''

Patton nodded.

''It's on his leash.''

They arrived at the mostly deserted spot. Janus stopped the pickup truck above the bridge, and Patton was the first to get out, pushing his sneakers against the cold, polished stone floor. He went to the back of the car, opening the cargo bed and letting the dog out. With the leash in hand, they went around the bridge and down a small slope beside the architectural support that consisted of sand and brush, approaching the river of running water below. Steve immediately went towards the water and, as expected, began to drink. Patton let go of his leash and sat down on the ground, putting the laces back on his sneakers, listening to the engine of the truck still running.

The wind echoed in his ears, and he regretted not having zipped up his jacket when he first thought of it. The bridge, as well as its edges, were lit only by the weak grayish light of the moon above them. In the navy blue sky, tiny dots flickered and a few clouds were lurking. Patton watched the surrounding flora, high enough to be at his knee height, and hoped that no animals would appear. Most people would worry about snakes in an environment like this, maybe frogs because it was near water, but Patton's biggest concern was spiders. To his right, at a higher level, the rocky bridge cast a shadow over him.

The roar of the engine stopped and footsteps approached.

''Partners in crime?'' he asked in a drawling tone of voice.

Patton let out a sharp cry and turned back, seeing Janus standing a little above him, arms crossed. He stood erect, and his plaid scarf swayed gently in the wind, which in the poor lighting made him look more like a mysterious silhouette than a human being.

''What?''

''Partners in crime. '' He repeated and shrugged. ''You stole a dog.''

''I didn't steal a dog.'' Patton defended himself, standing up and brushing the sand out of his pants. ''I just... took it for a walk.''

''Without asking the owner or even knowing him?'' Janus squinted his eyes.

''I just...'' he stammered. ''Yes!''

''No, you stole a dog.''

''You stole a dog!''

''I stole a car, that's different.'' Janus waved one hand. ''It was your idea.''

''You opened the car.''

''Okay, we did it together, whatever. It's still a crime just the same.''

''No, it was for a good reason! He was in the heat, I just wanted to get him out of there!'' Patton slurred his words, pointing at Steve behind him.

''I never said it wasn't for a good reason. That's not my point.'' Janus looked at Patton and smiled briefly. ''We're alike. Isn't that what you wanted?''

Patton looked at him and remembered the two questionable attributes that were on his mental list of things he knew for sure about Janus. Thief. Liar.

''No, we're not. We have nothing in common!''

''Wrong. We have philosophy and theft.'' Janus went down the small sand hill, stopping in front of Patton.

''No, only bad people steal!''

Janus brought one hand to his chest, pretending to be offended.

''Patton! What about the people who live on the street and steal to survive?''

He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. After a moment, he resumed, denying with his head:

''No. No, that's not what I meant. No, that's enough.'' Patton moved his arms from side to side in front of him. ''We'll come back, we'll return the dog, and we'll return the car, okay?''

''Oh, please...'' Janus started, but Patton turned his back on him, approaching the riverbank and stopping near Steve.

Patton's idea of going back and returning the collected belongings without permission was ridiculous, to say the least. Especially considering that they had managed to leave the situations behind without major consequences. There was no point in denying the obvious — that crimes had been committed — and Janus didn't really understand why Patton insisted on doing that. With his eyes half-closed, he watched Patton and thought. Patton also insisted on the statement that stealing made you a bad person; committing crimes made you a bad person. Janus knew that things were not that easy, as black and white. And it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Patton didn't know that.

The icy evening wind ruffled their ears and crickets began to echo around them, and Janus let the room be filled with the sounds of nature as he thought.

''Would you agree with Jean-Jacques Rousseau when he said that man is good and society corrupts him?'' He asked, pronouncing the words slowly and clearly.

Patton looked at him over his shoulder.

''I don't know. Maybe?''

After a moment, he continued:

''And would you agree with Thomas Hobbes when he said that man is essentially evil?''

''Would you?'' Patton asked him, his worried look gradually softening.

Janus took a few steps and stopped beside Patton, staring at Steve as he drank the water.

''No, not with either of them.'' Janus turned to him, his colorful eyes in a state of serenity. ''Psychology, philosophy, anthropology, all these fields have the human being and its existence as their focus of study. Ever since we existed, we have been trying to find the answers to these same questions. Are we good? Are we bad? Why are we here? And these areas are still relevant today because we don't have a yes or no answer. Because after centuries of investigation, we have come to the conclusion that humanity is complex. It is to be expected that these questions will have complicated answers, if such answers ever exist. No one is inherently good or bad entirely, Patton. You can steal and still be a good person. It just depends on how you see yourself.''

Patton nodded, muttering something incomprehensible. Quickly, Janus continued:

''But you know... if you really want to know if you're a ''bad'' person...'' Janus offered his hand to him, the yellow glove standing out in the darkness. ''We can find out together.''

Silently, Patton smiled softly and took Janus's hand.

On the floor, Steve turned toward them. He shook himself, causing water splashing from his beard to hit the two men next to him. Janus protested, complaining, but Patton didn't much care.

''Can we go now?''

Patton leaned forward, taking Steve's leash, and the trio returned to the bridge and the car above them.

''What is the next stop?'' Patton asked.

''I don't know," Janus shrugged. ''Do you want me to drive you home?''

''I'd like to, but...'' Patton glanced at the back of the car. Behind Janus, Steve's mouth was open and the wind was against his golden hair. ''I'm not sure how I'm going to get in with a dog that size.''

Of course, getting home was not exactly the problem. The problem would be how to justify to the neighbors why he had an adult golden retriever with him, in case someone saw him.

Janus remained silent, searching for a solution. Patton picked up his cell phone, pressed his fingers against the screen a few times, and moments later, announced:

''There is a hotel nearby that accepts dogs. The Sandman Inn.''

''Yes, but do they accept large dogs?''

Patton swiped at the cell phone screen.

''Yes, they do. It's not too far away.''

Janus agreed, ready to follow the GPS directions, when Patton grabbed his arm.

''Wait!''

''What?''

''There's a supermarket here!'' Patton pointed, and across the street, a large sign with its lights on indicated the store was open. ''Let's stop here. It's gonna be just a minute.''

''What for?'' Janus asked, already turning the car around.

''To buy things!'' Patton simply said. When they pulled into the parking lot, Patton got out of the car, but Janus didn't move. ''Aren't you coming?''

''No. You can go.''

''Okay.'' Patton agreed and quickly drove away, approaching the doors that opened automatically for him.

Patton took a basket from the stack next to the door, and walked through the aisles occupied only by merchandise. The cleaning products section was the closest, and he walked through an aisle that contained fabric softeners and clothes nails.

Lawyer. Thief. Charming. Liar, it echoed through his mind, and Patton wondered what answer he would provide when Virgil asked him if he liked Janus.

He turned right, now passing through a corridor that contained brooms and insecticides.

Technically, their date had been extended for the rest of the day. Technically.

Patton glanced at the products in other aisles as he walked in front of them. Pasta. Canned goods and seasonings. Dairy products. Frozen foods.

Would he want a second date? Assuming they didn't get caught for the thefts, of course.

Patton entered an aisle of children's birthday party supplies.

But as Janus himself had said, not all people who did things that were considered bad were really bad. The case of the homeless people was a good example.

He took a card with colored candles and put it in the basket.

This line of reasoning would work for Janus as well as for him.

Patton took a few steps forward and picked up plastic plates and cutlery, adding them to the basket so that they would keep the candles company.

So... it was all relative, really. Janus had kind of explained that too.

Patton returned to the frozen food aisle. He ignored the large transparent doors that displayed ice cream of the most diverse brands and flavors. He stopped in front of a large booth displaying ready-made cakes, and chose one whose frosting consisted of granules and cherries, and placed it in the basket.

There was a decision to be made.

When Patton came out of the supermarket with a shopping bag in his hand, Janus was leaning outside the car, petting Steve.

''Ready?''

''Ready. We're good to go.'' Patton confirmed, smiling.

Once again, they returned to the cab of the truck and went on their way.

The Sandman Inn was open twenty-four hours a day.

It was a clean and quiet place, and the carpeting in the lobby was red and gold.

They checked in, and the employee handed them the key to Room 9E, with two beds.

Janus and Patton stepped into the elevator. Steve's leash in one hand, the keys to pickup the truck in the other, the shopping ecobags on their shoulders, and the grocery bag in the other hand.

Arriving in the bedroom, they left both bags with clothes on the bed. Janus removed Steve's leash, and Steve began sniffing around the room. Patton approached a small table that was in front of the beds and put his bag on top of it, removing the groceries one by one. He removed the plastic cover from the cake and placed it in the center of the table, opening the carton of colorful candles.

''Can you turn off the light?'' he asked, and a little hesitantly, Janus did so. Outside, the grayish moon produced a faint beam of light that invaded the room through the window, preventing them from being completely in the dark.

Patton sat down in one of the chairs, and Janus removed his hat and joined him on the other side. Steve also joined them, lying down at Patton's feet.

At the cashier, Patton had picked up a box of matches at the last minute. He had spread four of the colorful candles on the edge closest to Janus, and was now lighting them.

''So,'' Janus began, with a terrible posture in his seat. Strands of his dark brown hair fell over one of his eyes. ''I suppose we'll be saying goodbye to each other in the morning?''

Patton smiled quietly, placing the rest of the candles at the end closest to him.

''No, I don't think so.''

Janus squinted his eyes. He leaned forward and, with one breath, blew out the candles that were lit. Immediately, Patton began to light the ones he had positioned last.

''I'm down for a second date, actually.'' He explained, his gaze focused on the wax and the fire. ''I think there's more about you that I don't know.''

''I do cosplay, if that's what you want to know.'' Janus looked away, crossing one leg over the other.

Patton stopped where he was and laughed, making a mental note to return to this subject later.

''It was you who suggested that we find out if we are bad people together.'' he said, finishing lighting the candles.

They both stared at each other for a brief moment, before Janus asked, in his usual lazy tone:

''I'm stuck with you now, aren't I?''

Patton propped both elbows horizontally on the table. He looked at his cell phone beside him, and the 11:59 on the lock screen turned into 00:00, accompanied by the date May 1.

It was midnight.

It was his birthday.

It was their birthday.

''Happy birthday, Janus.''

Janus lifted the corners of his mouth minimally, just enough to go unnoticed.

''Happy birthday, Patton.''

And Patton blew out the candles, leaving them in the dark.

#paulie's posts #moceitappreciationweek #moceit #sanders sides #ts janus #ts patton

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averylainey · 4 years ago

Text

A Second Date

Clementine and Louis have a second date to continue getting to know each other better.

“I hate you,” she jested. “I love you too.” He smirked. “Even if you do have a weird thing for cowboys.” “Damn it, I do not! You’re never gonna let this go, are you?” “Absolutely not.”

~ AO3 ~ FF ~

Clementine grit her teeth and dug her nails into her bed sheet as a sharp pain shot up her leg. She raised her head slightly and looked to the foot of her bed where Ruby was busy dabbing the limb with a wet cloth to clean it. The redhead insisted on cleaning it every day until it scarred over. It was already a miracle that Clementine had survived the amputation; Ruby didn’t want to test their luck with an infection. She gave the other girl a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, hon. I know it sucks, but it’s gotta be done,” Ruby said, rubbing the injured girl’s other leg in a futile attempt to soothe her.

“I know,” Clementine grumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and resting her head back against her pillow. Of course she was grateful to Ruby for looking out for her, but God, did this suck.

It had been a little over a week since she returned home, and her recovery was going a lot more smoothly than anyone expected it would. The color had returned to her skin, and she was able to stay awake for the better part of most days. The pain was still overwhelming at times, but with the help of painkillers and emotional support from the other kids, she was able to push through it.

AJ had been particularly attentive-- not that that was at all surprising. He spent most of his time by her bedside when she was awake, keeping her spirits up and making sure that she had everything she needed. He wasn’t beside her today, however. This was the first day he had left the walls of the school since they came home. He had initially been reluctant to go too far away from her, as even though she was improving, he was still terrified that something would go wrong. He was still terrified that he’d lose her. But that morning, Clementine was finally able to convince him not to worry-- that she wasn’t going anywhere, so he hesitantly agreed to go hunting with Aasim and Louis.

When he headed out, leaving her alone in her room, part of her regretted telling him to go. Having him around kept her from thinking too hard about her condition. She tried her best to suppress it, but she couldn’t help the grief she felt over the loss of her leg. She knew that her disability would make life a lot harder from here on out; there were so many things she’d probably never be able to do again….

A light knocking at the door brought Clementine out of her thoughts. She propped herself up on an elbow and called out, “Come in.”

The door opened and Louis stepped in.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a grin and shut the door behind him.

“Hey, you.” She smiled affectionately at him then raised an eyebrow when she noticed that AJ wasn’t with him. “Where’s AJ?”

“He wanted to help Aasim get a rabbit ready for dinner,” he told her then glanced at Ruby, who was still busy tending to Clementine’s leg. “Uh, I can come back later if you want.”

“No, it’s ok.” She stared down at her leg and frowned before meeting his eyes again. “Honestly, I could use a little moral support.”

Louis mirrored her dejected expression and walked the short distance to her bed. He crouched down beside her and took her hand in his.

“I’m so sorry, Clem. I--”

“Hey, I said I need support, not a pity party,” she interrupted.

He dropped the rest of his sentence with an amused exhale and squeezed her hand. “Right. Sorry.”

“So… how was hunting?” Clementine asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from her plight.

“Pretty good. We caught a couple rabbits, and I showed AJ how to reset the traps.”

“That’s good.” She chuckled before adding, “Guess you’ve replaced me as his sidekick, huh?”

“Hey, he’s the sidekick,” Louis joked, earning another light laugh from the girl. Of course, the sight of her laughing brought a grin to his face, as it never failed to do.

Clementine looked lovingly at him for a moment before extending her arms to him for a hug, which he happily gave.

“Thanks,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“For?”

“Just, y’know... being here. It helps.”

He pulled slightly out of her embrace and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll always be here.”

A soft giggle from the end of the bed caused the pair to separate. Ruby had finally finished cleaning the girl’s wound and was looking fondly at them. They both blushed and lowered their eyes; they had almost forgotten she was there….

“Y’all are too cute,” Ruby remarked, shaking her head. She noticed the redness on their faces and gave them a small reassuring smile. “You don’t have t’ be embarrassed. It’s real sweet how close you two have gotten.”

Ruby picked up a roll of bandages and turned her attention back to Clementine’s leg.

“I’m a lil’ jealous,” the redhead admitted, still looking down as she began to wrap the fresh gauze around the limb. “Not, y’know, of either of you specifically,” she quickly clarified. “Just of what y’all have, I guess.”

Ruby paused and looked back up to them. They were staring at her expectantly, apparently waiting for further explanation, so she continued:

“I used t’ read those sappy romance books the old English teacher kept in her desk and wish I could experience somethin’ like that,” she continued and smiled sadly at her hands. “I stopped a while ago, though, when I realized it wouldn’t ever happen.”

“Well, how do you know it won’t?” Clementine cut in gently.

“I dunno… Not a lotta people left... And I doubt any of ‘em would like me.”

Clementine was surprised to hear that she felt that way. Did she really not realize that Aasim had a massive crush on her? He wasn’t exactly very subtle about it….

“You don’t know that. Maybe somebody does,” the brunette hinted.

She looked to Louis, who had his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide the huge knowing grin that spread across his face. He dropped his hand and opened his mouth to speak but was stopped short by a light tugging on his wrist. He glanced down to find Clementine gripping it then shifted his gaze to her face and gave her a questioning look. ‘Don’t,’ she mouthed, knowing exactly what he was planning to say. As much as she herself wanted to just tell Ruby about Aasim’s crush too, she knew that they shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Louis pouted but obeyed and stayed silent.

Ruby raised an eyebrow at their behavior but chose not to question it.

“I don’t think so,” she sighed as she tied off the fresh bandage on Clementine’s leg. “Well, think I’m all done here.” Ruby stood and wiped her hands on her pants. “Anything else I can get’cha?”

Clementine shook her head. “I’m ok. Thanks, Ruby.”

She gave a little nod in response and turned to leave the bedroom. Clementine and Louis watched as she exited the room and gently closed the door behind her. They stayed quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of her footsteps down the hall fade away.

“I can’t believe this,” Louis quickly broke the silence, shaking his head in incredulity.

“I know, right?” Clementine agreed. “She really has no idea.”

“I gotta tell her.” He turned to Clementine. “Come on, you shoulda let me tell her. This is too perfect.”

“No, he needs to tell her.”

“But he won’t, Clem. It’s been, like, a year.”

“Just... give it a little more time. He’s not very good at hiding it; she’s gonna find out eventually.”

Louis crossed his arms and quirked his brow at her, clearly unconvinced. Noticing his skepticism, the girl continued:

“What if someone else told you that I like you?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that have kinda ruined it?”

“Honestly, I would’ve just thought they were fucking with me.” He stared at the door and frowned, pausing to consider her point for a minute before sighing in defeat. “...I guess you’re right.”

“Of course. I’m always right.”

He smirked at her. “I’m still gonna keep harassing Aasim about it, though.”

Clementine snickered. “That’s fine; you should. Just don’t tell Ruby anything.”

“Deal.”

Louis looked down in thought for a second. He sat down on the bed beside her and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um...anyways... I actually came in here for a reason,” he said.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, y’know, I figured you must be bored laying in here all day, so I thought, ‘Hey, what better time for our second official date?’” He pulled his deck of cards out of his coat pocket, set it on the bed between them, and looked to her with a hint of anxiety on his face as he waited for a response.

She gave him a soft smile. “That’s a good idea. I am pretty bored.”

Louis smiled and let out a breath of relief, which Clementine took notice of.

“What? You thought I was gonna say no?” she asked as she sat up and rested her back against the wall.

“I mean, not really, but”-- he shrugged-- “you never know. Maybe, in the last thirty seconds, you realized you actually hate me.”

Clementine rolled her eyes. “No such luck,” she joked before focusing on the deck of cards sitting on the bed. “So, did you have a game in mind?” she asked the boy.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Y’know, I still don’t really know a lot about you, so I thought we could play the game we did the night you first got here. Remember? Highest card asks a question?”

“Yeah, I remember,” she confirmed. “Is War the only card game you know?”

“Of course not; it’s just the easiest. I know Golf, Spades, Cribbage, some that I made up...” As he listed off card games, Louis split the deck in half and handed half of the cards to Clementine. “I also know how to play Poker, but I hate it.”

“Why?”

“It’s boring.” He paused before mumbling, “And Violet always beats me.”

The girl chuckled. “Really?”

“Yeah. She’s impossible to read. I think she’s secretly a lizard-person,” he said, somehow keeping a completely straight face.

Clementine burst out laughing.

“Don’t tell her I said that,” Louis added, as he laughed along with her.

“Don’t worry; I won’t.” The girl’s smile faltered. “She… doesn’t really talk to me anyway.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood, Clementine quickly changed the subject. “So”-- she held up the stack of cards Louis had given her-- “are we gonna play?”

Louis nodded and gave the cards in his hand a quick shuffle. They each drew a card from their respective stacks and flipped it over; Clementine won with an eight of diamonds.

“You win,” Louis said. “What do you wanna know?”

Clementine looked up and thought for a second. She couldn’t think of anything particularly creative to ask, so she just asked the first question that came to her mind:

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Damn, we’re already starting with the real hard-hitting questions, huh?”

The girl smiled and rolled her eyes in response before looking back at him expectantly.

“It’s green,” he told her. “What’s yours?”

Clementine raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. “Hey, I thought only winners got to ask questions,” she teased.

“Ok, new rule then: losers can ask follow-up questions.”

“Fine,” she chuckled before answering, “Mine is pink.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“What? What’s wrong with pink?”

“Nothing!” he laughed. “I just wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were gonna say something hardcore like black or blood red or something.” His expression softened. “That’s kinda cute-- that it’s just pink.”

The girl snorted, trying to hide the slight blush that crept onto her cheeks at his words. “If you say so.”

“Wait, what kind of pink, though? Hot pink?” Louis suddenly asked.

“Ew, no.” Clementine wrinkled her nose at the thought of that obnoxious color. “Just regular pink,” she specified.

“Ok, good,” he chuckled and took the card she had drawn out of her hand, stacking it with his and setting it to the side. He motioned for her to draw again for the second round. “After you.”

Clementine drew another card from her stack and flipped it over: six of spades. Louis followed and produced a three of hearts.

“I win again.” The girl smirked at him.

Louis shook his head and said flatly, “You’re cheating.”

She scoffed. “What? How do you even cheat at this game?”

“You stacked the deck.”

“It’s your deck!” she laughed.

“Alright, fair point… I got my eye on you, though.” He winked at her. “What’s your question?”

This time, she already had a question in mind. “Where are you from?” she asked. “Before you came here, I mean.”

Louis smiled and answered, “Baltimore.”

“That’s cool; that baseball guy I met was from there,” Clementine shared.

He raised his eyebrows. “No shit? What was his name?”

“Javier Garcia.”

“Wait, seriously? I’ve met him.”

Clementine’s eyes widened. “Really? When?”

“Yeah. Well, kinda. My grandparents used to take me to the baseball games in the city sometimes. He signed a ball for me. I think I still have it somewhere...” He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “I can’t believe you met Javier Garcia and didn’t tell me.”

She giggled at his enthusiasm then shrugged. “You never asked.”

“Alright, you gotta tell me everything now. How’d you meet him?”

“Well… I, uh…” Clementine sighed, slightly embarrassed of how she had acted back then. “I almost shot him; then, I tried to rob him.”

Louis snorted. “Really, Clem? I mean, I knew you were edgy, but damn.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and said sheepishly, “Yeah… I was going through some shit at the time… He was pretty cool about it, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He was a pretty cool guy in general,” she said and placed her card atop the other discarded ones. “He’s kinda like you-- little less dorky though.”

“Dorky!?” Louis clutched his chest and feigned offense.

“In a good way!” she quickly added with a laugh before switching focus to her stack of cards. She held them up and asked, “Round three?”

“‘Round three?’ You’re really gonna act like you didn’t just insult me like that?” He continued pretending to be offended as he drew another card. Before Clementine could respond or even draw a card herself, he blurted out, “I win.” and revealed that he had drawn an ace.

“Not necessarily,” she protested. “What if I get an ace too?”

“I’d be very shocked.”

Clementine picked the top card off her stack and lifted it up in front of her face so that he couldn’t see it. She smirked. “It’s an ace,” she told him.

Louis looked at her skeptically and peeked over the top of the card to see what it really was. “That’s a four, darling.”

The girl sighed and dropped the card. “Fine... I guess losers do deserve to win at least once.”

“Exactly,” he agreed before asking his question: “What’s your favorite kind of music?”

Clementine smiled; that was such a him thing to ask. She pursed her lips as she considered the question. Music hadn’t really been a part of her life like it had Louis’. When she and AJ were living on the road, they avoided it for the most part; it was unnecessary noise. She had probably heard more music in the past month at the school than in all her years on the road.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I never really had the chance to listen to much music before I came here,” she admitted. “Sometimes me and AJ would listen to some rock CD in the car; I guess that was pretty cool.”

“Rock? That makes sense.”

Clementine shrugged and moved to draw another card, but Louis interrupted her:

“Wait, you’re not gonna ask what mine is?”

“I already know what yours is.” She smirked at him. “It’s obviously super girly pop music.”

“Ah, shit! How’d you know!?” he joked.

“Gut feeling,” she joked back as she grabbed the next card off her stack.

She drew a Jack, beating Louis’ draw of a nine.

“Yes!” Clementine pumped her fist in celebration of her victory. “I have a good one this time.”

“Oh boy,” Louis said, slightly worried. “What is it?”

“What’s your biggest irrational fear?” she asked.

He eyed her suspiciously. “Um, you’re not trying to get ammunition to use against me are you?”

“No!” she laughed. “I’m just curious.”

“Ok...” Louis sighed before answering, “I’m terrified of wasps.”

“Wasps?”

“Yeah. I hate them. A couple years back we found a wasps’ nest under the lookout tower. I wouldn’t go outside for a week.”

“Are you allergic to them or something?” the girl asked.

“No, they’re just… fucking demonic, y’know?” he replied as an involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the thought of the wretched insects.

Clementine giggled. “Yeah, I guess they kinda are.”

“I’m glad you understand,” he chuckled then raised an eyebrow at her. “So, what’s your irrational fear, then?”

“Oh, I’m not scared of anything,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“Everyone’s scared of something.”

“Not me.”

Louis pouted. “Come on, I told you mine.”

She stared into his pleading eyes for a moment before groaning and giving in. “I guess I’m kinda creeped out by mirrors,” she confessed.

“What? Mirrors? How could someone as pretty as you hate mirrors?”

“Ha ha,” she replied sarcastically before explaining, “They give me a weird feeling... like they’re watching me or something.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how to explain it; they’re just creepy.”

The boy gave her an amused look. “Not gonna lie, that’s… a pretty weird fear. Was not expecting that,” he said.

“Hey, don’t judge me.”

“I wasn’t.” He held up his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you being scared of mirrors. In fact, if you want, I’ll go smash every mirror in the school for you right now.”

Clementine snickered. “I think I’ll be alright.”

“Ok, if you say so.” Louis picked up his stack of cards, preparing to draw for the next round, but before he did, he added, “If you ever change your mind, though, lemme know. I will do it.”

“I’ll let you know,” she promised.

The pair each drew another card, and this time, Louis won with a seven of clubs. He held his card up to his lips as he considered whether or not he really wanted to ask the question he had in mind. Clementine cleared her throat and raised her wrist as if she were checking an imaginary watch, teasing the boy for taking so long to ask his question. So he decided to just go for it:

“Alright, I gotta ask… And I’m not judging, ok? But...” Louis reached over her and picked up a book that had been laying on the opposite side of her bed. He held it up in front of her and asked,“What the fuck is this?”

“Oh God.” Clementine could feel her face begin to burn when she saw the cover. It was one of those cringeworthy western romance novels with a shirtless man in a cowboy hat on the front. The terrible thing was mixed in with a stack of a few books that Ruby had given her a couple days prior. The girl tried to explain herself:

“It’s a book Ruby brought me to read when I get bored. She gave me a few different books, and-- and I already read all the others. So y’know, I thought reading it would at least be better than staring at the ceiling. I--It’s super dumb. I swear I’m only reading it to laugh at it.”

Louis smirked at her babbling. “Right. Sure.”

“I promise!” Clementine really wasn’t lying. The book was horrible-- probably the worst thing she had ever read in her life. It was almost impressive how bad it was, and that made it hilarious to her. But of course, Louis wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

“So what’s it about, then?” he asked as he scanned the pages, stopping when his eye caught a particularly cringeworthy passage. He smirked at the girl beside him and began to dramatically recite it:

Annabelle watched with wide eyes as he dismounted the horse, his bare six-pack glistening in the afternoon sun. God, he was sooo hot. He took off his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his hair before turning to her and smiling. “Howdy, baby. I have come back for you,” he said in his deep, sultry voice.

Clementine lied back and buried her burning face into her hands. “Please stop,” she laughed. Of course, he ignored her and continued reading:

“Oh, Bill. I knew you would.” She ran into his arms and kissed him passionately. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her to the ground with him. He tenderly stroked her--

Louis cringed. “Oof, that’s a little inappropriate,” he mumbled to himself and quickly flipped a few pages ahead until he found a different section to read. “Here we go.”

Luckily for Clementine, before he could start reading whatever awful new passage he found, the dorm door opened and someone stepped inside. Louis lowered the book and turned around to see who it was. He smiled when he saw that it was AJ.

“Hey, little dude!”

“Hi,” AJ greeted the older boy then raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of Clementine lying back with her hands covering her beet-red face. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m just reading Clem her favorite book,” Louis replied nonchalantly.

“It’s not my favorite book! I hate it!” the girl blurted out.

“Oh, stop lying, Clem. Your secret’s out; you might as well own it.”

“I hate you,” she jested.

“I love you too.” He smirked. “Even if you do have a weird thing for cowboys.”

“Damn it, I do not! You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Lou, I swear to God when I get out of this bed...” Clementine playfully threatened.

“I’ll go into hiding,” he chuckled and stared down at the book in his hands. Something suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, so Ruby gave this to you?”

Clementine nodded. “She did.”

“I wonder if this is one of those sappy books she was talking about.” He mindlessly flipped through the pages then slipped the novel into an inner pocket of his coat and flashed her a sly grin. “I’m gonna show it to Aasim-- tell him to take notes and act it out for her.”

“Great idea,” she snorted. “You can torment him instead.”

“He is pretty fun to torment.” He grinned mischievously then glanced at the door. “...I’ll be back.”

Clementine watched as Louis stood and rushed out of the dorm room, his coat flapping behind him. She chuckled to herself as she heard him running down the hall. She loved that idiot.

“...I don’t get it,” AJ suddenly said. “What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Clementine chuckled. “He's just being a dork.”

End Note: Thanks for reading! ♥

#this is pretty silly ngl haha #twdg #clouis #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg fanfiction #twdg fanfic #my writing

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

The Convenient Groom: 7/13

The slow burn continues to simmer in this chapter as Emma and Killian settle into a routine, and Anna’s wedding planning forces them to figure out “their song.”

This is first and foremost a gift for @spartanguard, and this chapter includes several little touches just for her!

As I wrote this, I tried to imagine what kind of music best suits Emma’s and Killian’s personalities. So, don’t take offense at some of their musical opinions - I made digs at music even I like! And fyi, if you go on YouTube to search for wedding songs, this is pretty much what will happen (minus the hot guy to dance with you, of course).

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

Emma and Killian both had thought that life would slow down once they were back from the honeymoon, and it most ways, it had. The past week they had fallen into a comfortable routine. Killian woke first, tidied up the sofa where he had slept, then went for a run with Smee at his heels. While he was gone, Emma woke, made the coffee, and filled Smee’s bowl with kibble. Emma had her run on the treadmill while Killian showered, then he made breakfast while she showered. This kept Emma from leaving dirty knives poised on the edge of the sink, and gave Killian an opportunity to put her half-finished coffee in a travel mug.

Emma then raced out the door after snatching her breakfast out of Killian’s waiting hands. She was always running late for her 9 am appointment. Killian had yet to figure out why she didn’t schedule her first one later in the day. As for himself, he lingered over his breakfast so he could read a bit before heading into work.

Her book - he was reading her book.

Emma had seen it in various places around the house - on the coffee table, beside Killian’s morning coffee, and on the patio table. She wanted to ask him what he thought, yet at the same time she feared what his opinion would be. Men didn’t normally read her book, after all. Except for that one pompous windbag who only read it so he could skewer it. She couldn’t see Killian eviscerating her like that jerk had, but she also knew he would be honest. That tiny voice of doubt always at the back of her mind kept whispering that he hated every word she’d written. So she remained silent. She did note, however, that his book mark kept moving deeper into its pages.

At work, things went on pretty much as they were before, with one exception. Even though the paparazzi hadn’t followed them to Storybrooke, they still couldn’t let down their guard. The town had to believe they were a couple too, and Emma still had to keep up pretenses on her social media. For that reason, Emma made her way into his workshop at twelve each day asking what he wanted to do for lunch. Some days they walked over to Granny’s to grab a bite together (hand in hand or arm in arm - for appearances sake), while other days Killian was busy on a project and Emma brought lunch back for him. Their “work lunches” had already appeared on Instagram.

They didn’t always leave for home at the same time. It depended on Emma’s schedule and how engrossed Killian was in his current project (he had a bad habit of losing track of time). Yet Killian always insisted on cooking dinner for them both, and no matter what work had been like, they were seated at the kitchen table with a home cooked meal at seven pm every night. After that, they’d plop down on the couch and find something to watch on Netflix. Right now they were doing a rewatch of Parks & Rec.

It had honestly been the most steady, domestic week of Emma’s life. She would never admit it to anyone, especially not to Killian, but she loved it.

Unfortunately, there was one thorn in both their sides, and her name was Anna. They really should have looked closer at the calendar when they had suggested July 4th for the family ceremony.

It was Thursday night, and their enjoyment of the shenanigans in Pawnee, Indiana, was interrupted by a light tapping on the back door. They both groaned as Emma pressed a throw pillow to her face.

“I guess we can’t ignore her?” Killian asked half-jokingly as he paused the show.

Emma whacked him with the pillow. “You’re the one who started the habit of your family coming to your back door. Who does that?”

Or maybe lots of families did that - Emma really wouldn’t know.

Killian sighed again, his head dropping onto the back of the sofa. “Come in,” he called out.

“There’s really only one more thing I need to ask you two,” Anna said without preamble as she rushed through the door. “Sparklers - yes or no? Because I think they’re romantic, but Kristoff says they’re for kids, and Liam said they’re cliche, and Elsa worried we’d burn our fingers, which if you think about it, kind of contradicts what Kristoff said because if kids use them, I’m pretty sure we can handle them without burning ourselves.”

Anna finally ran out of words, and just stood there in front of them expectantly. Emma was rendered speechless, wondering how Anna hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen, and Killian simply looked confused.

“Sparklers for what?” he finally asked.

“The wedding,” Anna clarified with a roll of her eyes.

“You know, babe,” Emma teased, poking him in the leg, “the reason she’s popped over here every single night?”

Killian rubbed his jaw, and Emma noted the bags under his eyes and frowned. For the first time, she wondered how well he was sleeping out here on the couch.

“Aye, our small, family ceremony.” He looked at Anna pointedly as he emphasized the words.

“It will be,” she insisted, punching Killian in the arm. “It’s just going to be the six of us. Now, what’s your song?”

She had a literal binder opened on her lap. It was so large, her pregnant belly was about to send it sliding to the floor. Her gaze was on them expectantly, a pen poised over the binder.

Emma glanced at Killian. “Ummm . . . we don’t really have one?” She shrugged.

Anna’s shoulders slumped and her lips turned down into a frown as if Emma had just insulted her personally. “How can you not have a song?”

“It’s not a requirement, A,” Killian pointed out.

“But . . . but . . . you had a first dance at your big fancy wedding. I saw pictures of it on the internet. What did you dance to?”

“Don’t use that,” Emma blurted out before she could stop herself. Anna frowned.

“It was just some generic song the DJ picked out,” Killian explained hurriedly. “We didn’t like it, actually.” He turned to Emma with a grin. “Remember how we laughed about that song?”

Emma’s chuckle was genuine. “We sure did.”

“Oh, well that’s disappointing . . .” Anna trailed off, slumping against the sofa. Emma was really expecting the binder to hit the floor now.

“I tell you what,” Killian encouraged her, “Emma and I will pick out a song, ok?”

“You can’t just pick out a song!” Anna argued, and Emma was startled as tears welled in the redhead’s eyes. “It has to be meaningful!” She dashed at her tears in frustration. “I’m sorry it’s these stupid pregnancy hormones.”

Killian moved to sit next to Anna and put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, A. It’ll be meaningful. I promise.”

“By tomorrow?”

“By tomorrow.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “And it won’t be generic?”

Killian put his hand to his heart. “I promise we will find something meaningful to our relationship.”

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” she chuckled as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“No you’re not,” Emma assured her, “it’s really sweet of you to put all this together.”

Anna gave her a watery smile, then started trying to hoist herself to her feet. Killian rushed to help her, then she gathered her binder and headed for the back door.

“Oh, and Anna,” Emma called out after her.

“Yeah?” Anna asked as she turned back around.

“Yes to the sparklers.”

Anna’s answering grin was almost worth the nightly interruptions. Almost.

“Okay, Swan,” Killian exclaimed as soon as the door shut behind Anna. “We’ve got some work to do.”

“The song?” Emma was incredulous. “You’re not serious!”

“As a heart attack. You heard her. She wants something meaningful. Don’t you think it will arouse suspicions if we pick, like . . . ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ or something?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Why would that be suspicious?”

“Because that’s in practically every rom com ever made.”

Emma snorted through her nose. “I never took you for the rom com type.”

He smirked at her. “I have many facets, love.”

Emma shook her head and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Okay, romance expert, how in the world do we pick a song? There are literally millions of love songs.”

“Well,” Killian replied, plopping down on the couch next to her and taking the remote, “I bet there’s a wedding dance playlist on YouTube. We’ll start there.”

He scrolled through the menu on their smart tv as Emma lounged against the back of the couch and studied him. “I’m still trying to imagine you watching . . . say . . . You’ve Got Mail or something.”

“Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are legends, darling,” he countered smoothly, still concentrating on the tv.

“Okay, I guess, but what about . . . While You Were Sleeping?”

“Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman? What’s not to love?” He winked at her. “Okay, Emma, here we have top 100 wedding dance songs.”

“100!”

He waved his hand at her dismissively. “I’m sure half of them we can rule out rather quickly.”

“You mean the super cheesy ones?”

“Precisely.” He narrowed his eyes as he pulled up the playlist, and Emma couldn’t stop the fleeting thought that he was cute like this - his eyes all crinkled at the corners and his brow furrowed. “Okay, we’ve got Bruno Mars, Justin Timberlake -”

“No, and no.”

“Okay, The Chainsmokers -”

“You can not be serious.”

“Whip/Nae Nae?!?”

“You must have the wrong list,” Emma told him, snatching the remote out of his hands. “That must be stuff to play at a wedding to get people to dance.”

“Ah, you’re right. Try first dance.”

“Wedding . . . “ Emma murmured as she used the arrow keys to choose the letters, “dang it, Killian, you really need to get one of those voice activated tvs.” She glanced over at him to see him grinning at her. “What?”

“You stick your tongue out a bit when you’re concentrating,” he told her, gesturing towards her lips, “it’s cute.”

Emma glowered at him, but felt her cheeks heat all the same. She forced her gaze back on the tv. “Okay, let’s see . . . First Dance - Wedding Suggestions or Most Popular Wedding First Dance Songs. Both have 117 videos.”

Killian shrugged. “Just pull up the first one.”

“Ed Sheeran,” they both read at the same time, then glanced at each other. Simultaneously they both burst out laughing.

“I’m hoping that’s a no?” Killian asked her tentatively.

“Of course it’s a no! Ed Sheeran screams generic.”

“You know, darling, maybe we’ve put the cart before the horse.”

“Okay, old man, what the hell does that mean?”

“Well,” he replied, smoothly overlooking her jab, “what kind of music do you like?”

Emma scrunched up her nose and tapped on her chin. Killian thought once again that she looked adorable, but he didn’t say so. “Ummm . . . I guess more rock than pop. Definitely no country. And don’t laugh but . . . I like punk.”

A slow grin spread across Killian’s face. “Love, I feel we are a match made in heaven.” When Emma’s jaw dropped, he sputtered and scratched behind his ear. “Uh, I meant musically speaking.”

“Riiight,” Emma said, nodding slowly. “Oh, and no power ballads. She rolled her eyes. I don’t think I can listen to an 80s hair band again after Walsh.”

Killian chuckled. “Okay then, let’s just scroll through these with all of that in mind, shall we?”

It wasn’t easy. Most were either pop or country, and the classics like Etta James “At Last” felt too cliched. A few had them chuckling. Who the bloody hell would dance to Dave Matthews Band. Do they have any idea what Crash into Me is about? And Killian played REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight this Feeling” just so he could dramatically sing it to Emma until she collapsed laughing on the couch.

“Wait!” Emma called out finally, clutching his wrist where he held the remote. “That one? Maybe?”

“This one?”

“Yeah - you think?”

He grinned at her as he rose from the couch and offered her his hand. Emma’s brow

furrowed.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m asking you to dance.”

She rolled her eyes. “We did that already, remember?”

Killian arched both brows at her. “But that was Walsh’s cheesy power ballad about sex, remember? Anna wants us to pick a meaningful song, and we can’t do that if we don’t get the full affect.”

Emma battled the smile that teased her lips and lost. “Okay,” she said, putting her hand in his. Her traitorous cheeks blushed as he pulled her up and close to him. He pushed the play button, and Paul McCartney’s voice filled the small house.

Maybe I’m amazed by the way you love me all the time. Maybe I’m afraid of the way I love you.

For some reason, dancing with Killian now felt even more nerve-wracking than it had at the wedding. She stared down at their shuffling feet, inexplicably terrified to look into his eyes. His very pretty, blue, expressive eyes that she swore sometimes could see right through her.

Maybe I’m amazed at the way you pulled me out of time. Hung me on a line. Maybe I’m amazed at the way I really need you.

“Well, the lyrics are definitely meaningful,” Killian chuckled awkwardly. “A won’t be able to argue that point.”

Baby I’m a man and maybe I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something that he doesn’t really understand.

Inwardly, Killian was cursing Paul McCartney as the lyrics hit like barbs. He realized he had tightened his grip on Emma’s waist, but she didn’t flinch away. He cleared his throat nervously, then almost choked when Emma’s green eyes met his. She’d had them glued to her feet until this very moment.

Baby I’m a man and baby you’re the only woman who could ever help me. Baby won’t you help me understand?

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I mean, it is Paul McCartney.”

“Uh huh,” Killian winced at how utterly idiotic he sounded. What was this conversation about, again?

Blessedly, the song went into an instrumental break. They continued to shuffle their feet across the living room carpet, but his grip relaxed, and so did Emma’s shoulders.

“So . . . “ she said tentatively, biting on her lower lip, “I saw you were reading my book.”

“I am.”

Emma tilted her head. “So . . . what do you think?”

Killian pressed his lips together and gazed over her shoulder, collecting his thoughts. “I think you give women very good advice on how to be smart while dating. I also like how you draw a line in the sand, telling women they should never have to change who they are to keep a man. I feel like so much dating advice is really telling people to put on an act, and that’s just garbage. I think your book empowers women to cut off bad relationships.”

Emma nodded, impressed. Those were usually the things in her book that got her hate mail from irate ex-boyfriends.

“Do I sense a but after that praise?”

Killian let out a long sigh, then looked her directly in the eye with such intensity that Emma couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to. “But, the chart that’s in there? The one that will show you if someone is compatible with you?” He shook his head, and Emma swore his arm snaked farther around her waist, pulling her just a hair closer. His head bent closer to hers, and his voice dropped an octave. “Love can’t be quantified and measured like that, Swan. It defies logic. It takes everything you thought you knew and obliterates it. When it’s real, you can’t tell where you end and the other person begins. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and comforting all at once. When you love someone, you don’t need a chart. When you love someone - really love them - you just know.”

Baby, I’m amazed at the way you’re with me all the time. Maybe I’m afraid of the way I leave you.

There was no mistaking it now, Killian had pulled her closer, his hand splayed across her back. Emma pressed her face to his collarbone, relieved that she was no longer looking into his piercing eyes. Killian pressed his lips against her hair.

“I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“No,” Emma managed to choke out, “I appreciate your honest opinion . . . “

“But?” he prompted with a chuckle.

“But your romantic views are exactly what gets people into trouble. That’s why I suggest people analyze the person before feelings get involved.”

Paul McCartney’s voice trailed off, the final strains of the music died, and a YouTube ad for Facebook Messenger started to play. Killian lifted his head and pulled back a step. Emma looked into his eyes once again.

“What if it’s too late?”

“My book says to fill out the chart after the first date, Jones.”

“What if it doesn’t happen the traditional way?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What if love sneaks up on you?”

Emma swallowed and took a step back. His arm fell away from her waist, and she shivered.

“I think Paul McCartney will work, don’t you?”

He chuckled. “Aye, Swan.”

Suddenly, Kelly Clarkson’s voice filled the room as the first strands of “A Moment Like This” played, and they both burst out laughing. It broke the tension, thankfully, and Emma plopped back down on the couch and snatched up the remote. She started flipping through the songs in the playlist again, just in case. Killian sat down next to her.

“So,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, “you said we’re a match made in heaven music wise. You share my tastes?”

He shrugged. “Mostly. I’m rock more than pop too, though I don’t discount it entirely. I mean, The Beatles are technically pop.”

“True,” Emma conceded, “and then there’s Michael Jackson.”

“Exactly! And, I’d go less for punk and more for alternative.”

“Let me guess. Pearl Jam? Nirvana?”

“Naturally. And Goo Goo Dolls, Smashing Pumpkins, Barenaked Ladies -”

“Wait, wait, wait. Barenaked Ladies are not alternative. They are one hundred percent pop.”

Killian gasped. “Pop, no way! The lyrics are way too tongue in cheek.”

Emma stuck her lip out stubbornly. “They are pop, Jones! Maybe veering a little towards punk -”

“Absolutely not, they are not punk at all!” Emma rolled her eyes as Killian snatched his phone off the coffee table. “I’ll prove it! Hey Google, what genre of music are The Barenaked Ladies?”

“The Barenaked Ladies,” his phone replied in that emotionless robotic voice, “are a Canadian alternative rock band formed in Ontario in -”

“Ha!” Killian crowed in triumph as Emma scowled.

“Where did Google get that info, Wikipedia?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Swan,” he teased, and then his eyes brightened. “You know, I may have an even better song for us.” He took the remote from Emma and tediously typed something into the search bar.

When Emma saw what it was, she cried out in protestation. “That can not be our song!”

“Why not? It’s the style of music we both like.” He gave her a faux-innocent pout.

“Alternative Girlfriend?”

Killian shrugged then winked at her cheekily. “Well, there’s no song called Alternative Wife.”

Emma smacked him in the chest. He hit play on the YouTube video and then began crooning the song to her.

“You’re in an all-girl band, your futon is second-hand -”

“Yeah, Jones, this screams wedding song.”

“I have a job in a shop - see, that’s me!”

“Sure it is.”

Killian kept singing as he yanked her to her feet and swung her around the room. “You’re my alternative girlfriend. I love you and now you cannot pretend. There’s nothing left that won’t cross over.”

Emma laughed as he spun her out and back in again and she collided with his chest. “I’m pretty sure by alternative girlfriend they mean the alternative rock lifestyle.”

“No way, they mean a girl you date - or marry - because she’s in a pickle. For pretend.”

“Did you just basically say that I’m in a pickle?”

“Aye, Swan, a dill pickle because those are the only kind.”

Emma was laughing so hard now, her sides ached. They ended up staying up until two in the morning sharing music on YouTube. Some that were their favorites, some that they loved to make fun of, and others they were ashamed to admit they liked in their younger days.

And even though they had decided on it hours earlier, they texted Anna a little after two am to tell her that “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney was officially their song. They figured it served her right.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs marriage of convenience #slow burn #humor #and some angst #for spartanguard

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rxsie-the-demon · 4 years ago

Text

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST | chapter one | chapter two

chapter summary: More is revealed about Nikki’s past. Rafe and Kelce get Topper to apologize Nikki. However, Kiara warns Nikki to stay away from Rafe. Nikki learns the identity of her mysterious blonde boy, and finally meets JJ and Pope.

A/N: I’ve never been to therapy. This first scene here is how I imagined it went in my head, along with notes from friends who are in/have gone to therapy on how it would go. Sorry if it isn’t accurate

word count: 5835

warnings: swearing (almost a given at this point but i’ll still write it), mentions of death, therapy, trauma, harassment, self-harm, and DEATH. Mentions of weed, too (ofc, it’s jj)

Chapter 3: Summertime Sadness

I sat there, snapping my black hair tie against my wrist, not having anything to say just yet. The lanky blonde woman in front of me in a neon pink pantsuit was scribbling something on her notepad. She was young, younger than the other therapists I’ve had. But they all sucked and I like Dr. Kopeck. She’s funny, and I’ve made more progress in the three weeks I’ve lived in the Banks than in my other therapy sessions.

She looked up at me and smiled. “So,” she began, “how was your first week of school been?”

I glanced at the wall behind her, still snapping my wrist, before remembering that, unlike my last therapist, Dr. Lilliana Kopeck doesn’t keep a clock in her room. “I find that it tends to distract my patients,” she had said when I asked her.

I shrugged at her question. “It was alright. I went to a party yesterday.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

I shrugged again, still not looking up at her. “I guess.”

When I realized she hadn’t said anything back, I looked up at her and saw she was scribbling away in her notepad. Probably something about me not opening up enough.

I sighed. “The guy I went to the party with, Topper, he kept touching me. And I was fine with it at first, and then it wasn’t. Suddenly I was angry, I didn’t want him touching me, or near me.”

“Do you think it’s because he was touching you without your consent?”

“He was getting to close.”

“Close,” she repeated.

"Well, yeah?”

Dr. Kopeck nodded again, frowning, and made a note on her pad. Then she looked up and made a comment about my snapping. I stopped and looked down at my hand. A bruise had formed, not small and thin like the hair tie, but bigger, more noticeable. From days of nonstop snapping.

I look up to see Dr. Kopeck still making notes in her pad. I ask her, “I’m not getting any better, am I?”

Dr. Kopeck just looked up at me and smiled. “Ups and downs in mood are expected, however big or small. May I ask, why do you use the hair tie?”

I gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” she clarified.

“I know what you meant,” I laughed. “The pain makes me feel grounded. And awake.”

“Could you describe what you mean?”

“Well,” I started, and then I stopped, realizing that I had started snapping the hair tie. “Whenever I feel, like, not good, I guess? Like when I’m sleeping, and my dream goes to...places. Or when I’m awake and I feel panicked and overwhelmed with everything and suddenly I feel like I’m back to that day, that moment. That’s when I do it.”

“You were doing it just now.” Dr. Kopeck noted.

“Also, when I’m uncomfortable,” I added, snapping my hair tie again.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” She asked, taking off her glasses to clean them.

“No, no, not like that. I just...don’t feel like talking about it yet. Could we talk about something else?”

She put her glasses back on and smiled. “How are you liking the Outer Banks?”

I laughed. “Honestly? I like it more than I thought I would. It’s fun, it’s fresh. But I feel like I was shoved into some sappy movie.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Well, the island is split in half. The northern half, where I live, is the country club going guys. The southern half is poor, like, really poor. And that’s fine and all, I mean, it’s normal, but they have names for each other, too. Rich guys are Kooks, poor are Pogues. They named themselves.” I laughed. “It’s weird.”

Dr. Kopeck chuckled a bit. “Ah, I remember that. I visited the Outer Banks a lot as a kid, and I was somewhat aware of the Pogue-Kook rivalry. What do you think of it?”

“Well, I think it’s ridiculous. I can't understand why you would hate someone for how much money they have, or don’t have. I don’t know about the Pogues say, but the Kook always call them as dirty and disgusting.” I shrugged.

“I see. Have you made any friends at your ‘Kook’ school?” She used air quotations around the word Kook.

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah, a couple friends. Kiara- she’s nice. She isn’t stuck up like the other kids at my school because all of her other friends are Pogues. And Scarlet, she’s cool. I mean, she’s all rich and preppy, but she isn’t a complete ass. Kelce is funny and I just met Rafe and Wheezie yesterday, but they’re alright.”

Dr. Kopeck nodded slowly. “Hmm. Ok, ok. And do you feel as though you’ve made actual connections with these people?”

I frowned. “I mean, yeah. I’ve only been in school a week but I feel like I’ve connected with all of them on some level.”

Dr. Kopeck tried to hide a small smile, and she quickly jotted something down. “Can you describe your connections with them?”

“Well, with Scarlet and Kelce, it felt forced at first. I was the new girl, and Scarlet was assigned to show me around the school. She introduced me to her friends after, and they were, like,” I waved my hands around a bit, “the popular kids. And so I hung out with them because I didn’t want to be alone. They ended up being nice to me so it was alright.”

Dr. Kopeck nodded, putting her notepad down. “Continue.”

“At the party, Scarlet supported me when I told Topper off, Kelce texted me afterward making sure I was alright and sent a gift basket this morning. Wheezie’s just a kid, but she was funny and I found myself feeling comfortable around her. Her aura was just so vibrant. Same with Rafe, her older brother. It was his birthday party, and he seemed a bit weird at first but he isn’t terrible.”

“Those seem very healthy, considering you’ve just met all of them. Have you made any Pogue friends?”

I hesitated, debating whether or not to tell her about the Blond Boy, and the stories I’ve heard about JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward.

“No, not really. I was on Instagram one day, though, and saw a picture of this cute blond boy. I couldn’t find out who he was, though. Well, I could, I just didn’t because I felt like that’d be weird. All I know is that he’s friends with Kiara.”

“Have you asked her about him?”

“No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

I hesitated again. Dr. Kopeck continued: “Are you afraid that he’s like what the other kids at your school have described a Pogue as?”

“No, no!” My head shot up. Then I dropped my head to my hands. “I don’t know. I know Kiara’s friends are these three boys; one who died six months ago and one who’s apparently this super genius.”

“And the third one?”

I sighed. “Is the most ‘Pogue’ of all the Pogues. He’s my age and he almost shot a Kook kid with a gun that he stole. He’s apparently the biggest stoner on the island. I don’t know, I just don’t want to get my hopes up about a boy I don’t even know just to find out he’s, like, dead or a delinquent.”

Dr. Kopeck laughed. “I have a feeling there’s more to this boy than just that. I would ask your friend about him, whether he’s your mystery blonde boy or not.”

I snorted. “Oh please, I would never associate myself would someone so violent.”

“How do you know he’s violent?” Dr. Kopeck asked, eyebrows raised. “Sure, he almost shot someone with a gun that he stole, but have you considered there’s more to the story? Could it be retaliation for something a Kook had done to him? Perhaps a lie or a rumor the Kooks have come up with to spark more hatred between the two groups.”

I mentally smacked myself. “You’re probably right. But I don’t know. I don’t see myself getting along with someone like that.”

Dr. Kopeck snorted. “I guess we’ll just have to see. Now, may I ask, when was the last time you had a nightmare?”

The Nightmare. Not nightmares. It’s always the same one, with minor differences.

“The first night I moved to the Outer Banks like I told you.”

“And you haven’t had one since?”

I shook my head. I honestly hadn’t had one since.

“Have you ever told anyone who wasn’t there what happened that day? What you experienced, exactly.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Of course I have. I wouldn’t not be able to tell-”

“I mean,” Dr. Kopeck interrupted, “so sorry for interrupting you, but did you tell them exactly what happened. How you felt? Or did you just tell people that you saw your father die in front of you.”

I gulped. Dr. Kopeck continued:

“Your past therapists have informed me that you’ve never told them what had happened exactly, and a gut feeling of mine tells me you never really told people how badly it had affected you.”

I nodded. “I’m not ready to talk about it now,” I whispered.

!!!(trigger warning - seizure and death)!!!

“Daddy!” I called out, and he turned to look at me, smiling. It was a sunny day in July, and my dad had decided to take me golfing. I was young and short, so I could barely manage to use the golf clubs, but it was a fun day! Until it wasn’t

His entire demeanor changed. He looked confused, disoriented, before he drops his club, and starts clutching his head. I stop running, confused. “Daddy? Daddy what’s wrong?!”

Daddy drops onto the ground, his body rolling slightly on a hill. He starts to shake, violently. Someone runs over and starts to shout something, and rolls him onto his side. The side that I’m facing. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head. I’m screaming and crying. “He’s seizing,” I hear someone shout out. “Call an ambulance!”

“What’s going on?!” I’m screaming. “Is he ok?!” A lady realized that I was watching, and tried to pull me away, but I wouldn’t budge. As horrifying as it was, I couldn’t look away. Even when he stopped shaking, even when someone started doing CPR on him.

Even when the paramedics whisked his dead body away.

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

I hopped off the ferry, singing along quietly to “Brooklyn Baby” by Lana Del Rey.

“Well, my boyfriend’s in the band. He plays the guitar while I sing Lou Reed,” I mumble (probably very off-tune) while spinning my keychain around. It was when I was closer to my car when I realized three familiar-looking boys were standing near it.

I took my AirPods off and slip them into my pocket, shielding my eyes from the bothersome North Carolina sun. Even when it isn’t super hot, it’s still so fucking bright. As I got closer, I realized the boys were Kelce, Rafe, and...a beaten up Topper.

“Uh, hi guys?” I waved and laughed awkwardly. “W-What are you guys doing here?”

Kelce and Rafe turned around, smiling and waving, while Topper looked away nervously. That’s when I noticed their bruised knuckles. And how one of the bruises on Topper’s face looked like an imprint. Of a ring.

“Topper here,” Rafe started, grabbing the boy’s arm and yanking him forward, “has something he wants to say to you. Isn’t that right, buddy?” Rafe’s smile widely.

“Uh...” Topper started. Kelce stood on the other side of Topper, arms crossed, causing Topper to gulp nervously.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry for getting touchy with you at Rafe’s party. I think I realized at a point that you were getting uncomfortable, but since you didn’t say anything I thought I was imagining it. But you weren’t. I should’ve stopped and asked if you were alright.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. Did Kelce and Rafe actually beat Topper up for this? A part of me felt bad, but then I remember how uncomfortable I got at Rafe’s party and was glad someone set him straight. “It’s alright,” I sighed. “I should’ve said something.”

“Nah, man, I knew you were uncomfortable and I kept touching you. That’s on me. Look, I know it’ll take a lot of time and effort on my part, but I hope we could be ok again? Just friends.” He raised his arms defensively, and I nodded and smiled.

“Friends. That’s cool.” I raised my hand for a fist bump, and Topper obliged. I laughed, then got serious. “Don’t make me regret forgiving you, Thornton.”

“Yes ma’am,” He saluted. Rafe and Kelce laughed, and the boys hugged. Even though they had just beaten him up who knows how long ago. I rolled my eyes.

“Anyway, I gotta get home, I have a shit ton of homework to do and I need to start on my stupid history project.”

“You do know that’s due at, like the end of the year, right?” Kelce frowned. I shook my head. in disbelief.

“I gotta start early! Find a good idea, make it creative and stuff.” I

“Yeah, how’s working with the Pogue?” Topper sneered. Rafe narrowed his eyes.

“I thought we had agreed to stop being anti-Pogue after what happened to Sarah and John B.” Rafe looked angry.

“Oh dear Lord,” Kelce sighed. He turned to me and gave me this exasperated look like here we go again. I shrugged.

“You, Kelce, and Scarlet might’ve,” Topper retorted, “but did you forget he shot Sheriff Peterkin? And killed your sister?”

My jaw dropped. “Woah Woah, what? No one ever told me John B shot a cop. Why?”

“She was going to arrest John B for something and he shot her is what I heard. Then he held Sarah hostage and they escaped on a both together.” Topper shrugged. “Or maybe she was his accomplice.”

“What was Sarah doing there?” I was so confused. What the hell even happened?

“I think her dad was going to take her to the Bahamas for vacation and John B was trying to stop her. Right, Rafe?”

We turned to Rafe, who refused to make eye contact with us. The color in his face was gone, and I felt my heart race. Calm down, Nikki. He isn’t going to die. I started snapping my hair tie.

“Ok,” I said, taking the attention off of poor Rafe. “Let’s not...bring this stuff up around Rafe. Poor boy looks like he’s going to vomit.” I patted him on the back. “But anyway,” I stated. “I need to get home. See ya, losers!”

Kelce flipped me off as I pulled out of the parking lot, and I threw him a flying kiss as I sped off.

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

“Molly in my Aquafina. Red bottoms, she a diva...”

I hum along to the Lil Peep song playing from my speaker as I finish up my outline for AP Psychology. I check the time on my phone - 3:46. Later than I had anticipated.

I laid back on my black and purple bed set. I had finished all my homework, reviewed my notes, and I don’t have any quizzes or tests coming up soon. I’m...free.

I grab my phone and shoot Kiara a text, asking her if she wants to hang out. After some debate, I sent another one asking if she wanted to sleepover.

I hopped downstairs to see Mallory sitting in her office spinny office chair, long black hair tied back tightly in a ponytail. She was on the phone, most likely with her parents, considering that she was speaking Korean. She sounded exasperated and from my limited knowledge of her native language, she told whoever she was talking to that she doesn’t want to hear from them, and hung up. Mal rested her head on her hands and exhaled intensely.

I knocked on her ajar door. “Uh, Mal?”

Her head shot up, and she spun around to face me. “Hey, dollface. What’s up?”

I shrugged. “I finished all my schoolwork. I asked Kiara if she wants to have a sleepover. Can she?” I asked.

Mallory shrugged. “Sure thing. Just don’t be too loud, and if you guys sneak out, use your window. You’re way too loud when you use the front door.”

I snorted. “My bad.” Then we looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“Oh gosh...anyway, who were you on the phone with?” I take a deep breath.

Mal rolled her eyes. “My parents.”

“Oh, geez.”

Mallory grew up in a traditional Catholic Korean home. She was the middle child of five and definitely the smartest, and ended up as managing partner for one of the most well-respected law firms in America.

Her parents, however, measured her success by how rich her husband’s family was (which is very) and how many kids she was going to have (which was none, originally).

Of course, when Krish and Mal took me in, Mal’s parents were livid. The thought of their only daughter raising a child that wasn’t even hers was enough to make them lose contact for years until Mal reached out to her eldest brother a little more than a year ago because she was pregnant with Diya. She reconnected with her parents, and her mother was more accepting of me and bought me a little Polaroid camera. Her father, however, still refused to see me as his granddaughter. Whenever they visited, he’d just ignore my presence.

Mal shrugged. “It is what it is. If my parents want to give me a hard time for no reason, I’ll just cut them off. I already have my family right here.” She stretched her arm out and smiled.

I grabbed her hand and smiled back. My brother popped his head into Mal’s home office. “You guys are literally the cheesiest people I know.”

Mal gasped, “How long have you been standing there?”

Krish rolled his eyes and walked into, holding Diya. “Long enough.” He leaned over and kissed Mallory, and I gagged.

“You guys are disgusting. There are children in the room. Jeez.” Krish shot me a dirty look and I laughed. I was about to keep insulting them when I got a text notification on my phone.

“Sweet, Kiara’s gonna be here soon. She’s sleeping over,” I informed my brother.

He nodded. “Cool. You want me to make you guys something to eat or you’ll just get pizza or something?”

I shrugged, walking away. “I’ll figure it out!”

As I went to my room to tidy it up a bit, I remembered what Dr. Kopeck had said earlier today about asking Kiara about the boys. I exhaled a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in.

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

“Ooh, try this one on!” I flashed Kie a baby blue dress with spaghetti straps. It was currently around 10 pm and Kiara’s been over for a couple hours. We watched a movie, played Just Dance, and baked cupcakes (yum, except for when we almost set the house on fire).

She rolled her eyes. “What’s with you and dresses?” Kie and I were choosing each other’s outfits because, you know, fashion shows are always fun.

“Oh, c’mon, Kie, you’d look AMAZING in this!” I shook it in front of her. “I know you wanna try it on. C’mon, give into the dark side!” I laughed.

She laughed and grabbed it. “Alright, alright,” She went into my closet to change. After about a minute, she came out, spinning around and putting her hands on her hips. “How do I look?”

I squealed and clapped my hands. “AMAZING!!” Kie struck a pose and we both laughed.

“Ok, ok, now it’s MY turn to choose your outfit.” She laughed like an evil maniac.

“Please make it cute.”

“I’m going to make you dress like a Pogue.”

I dramatically jumped face-first onto my bed and cried, “Oh, no, the horror!”

Kiara through a pillow at me. I got up and turned around, and saw her shuffling through my clothes. “Ooh, I found something that could work!” She pulled out a simple white cropped tee shirt, ripped black skinny jeans, and a green and blue plaid shirt. “It’s perfect! I mean, you’d look like a skater girl, but it works!”

I laughed. “I actually can skateboard. I own a couple and I used to do it a bunch when I lived in New York.”

Kie’s eyes went wide. “Wait, deadass?”

“Uh, yeah?! What, you thought I was just a pretty face?” I put my hands under my chin and smiled. Kie through her head back and laughed.

“Gosh, this is the most I’ve laughed in a really long time,” Kie handed me the clothes and I stepped into my closet to change.

I take off my t-shirt and sweatpants and start to pull my jeans up. “Well, I’m glad.” I buttoned my jeans up and slipped the white shirt on. I grabbed the plaid and walked out, tying the shirt around my waist. “How do I look?” I struck a pose

“Like a full-fledged Pogue.” Kie smiled.

I found a window. “Speaking of Pogues...you’re friends with JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward, right?”

“Actually- gosh I just realized I didn’t tell you- Pope’s my boyfriend.” She smirked.

I jumped onto the bed next to her. “Wait, really?! What does he look like?”

She pulled her phone out and showed me her lock screen. On it was a picture of Kiara and the other four kids from her Instagram picture.

“That one-” she pointed to the boy she was hugging in her picture “-is Pope Heyward.”

I recognized him as Hat Boy. Not Sunburn or Blondie. Slightly disappointing, but I’m glad my friend isn’t dating a troublemaker.

“Ok, uh, what does JJ Maybank look like?” I asked, turning her phone to see the other kids.

“Wait, why?” Kie asked.

“Uh, well, you see,” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I may have stalked your Instagram one day and saw a picture of a cute blonde boy, and I couldn’t find out who he was after that.”

“Creep.” She laughed. “Aw, what happened to Rafie and Kelcie and Topper-poo.” Kiara exaggerated on their names and laughed. I grabbed a pillow and smacked her.

“First of all, ew. Topper’s weird, Rafe is 20, and Kelce and I aren’t like that.”

“Topper’s a creep? Well, I knew that, but what exactly happened on the yacht?”

“Oh, he just kept getting all close to me, grabbing my thighs, ass, whatever, and I was like ‘uh no, bro.’ Anyway, Rafe and Kelce found out and beat his ass, and made him apologize.”

Kiara’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s...not the Rafe and Kelce I know. If anything, I thought they’d encourage that.”

I shrugged, standing up from the bed to fix my hair and check myself out. “Like I said, I don’t know how they were before, but the boys are a lot better now. Yes, even Topper. He said he’s sorry and is going to work to be a better guy. Rafe is off drugs and he and Kelce are even pro-Pogue!”

“Pro-Pogue?”

“Basically, they don’t want beef with Pogues.” I turned around and smiled.

Kiara looked like she was going to explode, but not of anger...laughter. She threw her head back and fell onto the bed in a fit of laughter, rolling around and clutching her stomach.

“Oh jeez, I-” gasp “-I can’t breathe holy sh-” gasp “I CANNOT-” and she started laughing again.

I rolled my eyes and laughed a bit. “I don’t get what’s so funny...”

Kiara stood up and tried to contain herself. “You’re serious? Topper, Rafe, and Kelce are the most anti-Pogue people on this island!”

“Were,” I argued.

Kiara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she walked over to me and rested her hands on my shoulders. “Listen, Nikki, they’re your friends, and that’s fine. Not a problem with me. But I’ve known these guys for years. I believe that people can change, but not people like them. Hell, it’s Rafe’s fault that-” And she stopped, covering her mouth.

I narrowed my eyes. “Rafe’s fault that...what?”

“Nothing,” Kie dismissed, turning around. I was about to press further when she said, “Ok, so this is JJ!”

My curiosity got the better of me and I dropped the topic of Rafe. I peaked over her shoulder as she lifted her phone and pointed and- lo and behold- JJ Maybank is my mysterious blonde boy.

“Ugh!” I rolled my eyes.

“What?!” Kie said. She smirked. “He’s hot~!” She said in a singsong voice. I shuddered.

“Ok, yea, but didn’t he try to shoot a kid?! He might be the most gorgeous boy alive-”

“I’m so gonna tell him you said that.”

“S- No you’re not! He might be the most gorgeous boy alive, but I don’t need some...delinquent coming into my life and messing everything up.”

Kie laughed and started texting someone. “Ok, now I’m def gonna tell him you said that.”

I grabbed her phone from her. “Does he even know who I am?!”

“Yeah?! It’s a small island, and everyone knows the new Kook princess, especially since one, you’re Rafe and Kelce’s new bestie and two, you rejected Topper. Like, no Kook girl rejects Topper.”

“Oh my- I don’t even want to know. Well, what does he think about me?”

Kie shrugged. “That you’re hot, but that’s it. You’re a Kook, so he doesn’t care much for you.”

I threw my arms up. “See?! The feeling’s mutual.”

“Ok, but, I actually totally see you two together,” Kie smirked.

I gagged. “Nuh-uh. I might be a total headass, but even I wouldn’t get with the biggest troublemaker on this island.”

“Mhmm. Speaking of, do you want to meet them?” Kie itched her side. “Gosh, how do you wear this thing?”

“Hey, it’s a nice dress! And, you mean, meet JJ and Pope?”

“Sure. I know where they are, I was with them before I came over. And besides, it’s about time the Kook princess meets the Pogue prince.”

I punched her playfully. “Ew. This isn’t a romance movie, ok? I think this island’s already had enough of that.”

“No kidding,” Kie laughed. “But really, I think the two of you would like each other.”

I stood still, weighing my options. We have literally nothing else to do, and besides, I did want to meet these fabulous Pogues everyone keeps talking about.”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Let’s go. But we’re not sneaking out if you’re wearing that dress. I refuse to let it get ruined.”

“OH THANK GOD!” Kiara cried out, then covered her mouth. “Oops, forgot about your sister. Lemme go change into some sweats and we’ll leave.”

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

Kie and I zoom through the empty streets of The Cut on my skateboards. After Kiara changed into a black tee and sweatpants, we spent about another ten minutes figuring out how to climb out of my window and down the tree outside of it with skateboards, since apparently driving to The Cut in a Lamborghini was not a good idea.

Finally, Kie said, “Fuck it,” and just threw them onto the grass. Truly a genius.

Now, under the dark North Carolina sky, with the saltwater ocean breeze flowing through our hair, Kie and I headed towards a cabin called ‘The Chateau.’

“It’s John B’s house,” Kie had explained when we crossed over to Pogue territory. “It’s basically the place for all Pogues, but usually that’s where my friends and I hang out.”

As we got closer to the Chateau, I started to smell the earth. The fresh scent of mud and water made me realize we were getting closer to the marshes. “How much farther?” I asked Kiara as I followed her lead. The tiny, run-down houses covered in mud and moss made me shudder. Is this what life was like for Pogues? No wonder they hated kids like Topper and Rafe.

And me.

“We’re close,” Kie confirmed. She turned around to smile at me for a second, before spinning back and pointing up ahead. “See over there, where’s it’s, like, closer to the forest? And that a dirt road? You go down that a bit and that’s where the Chateau is.”

“And we couldn’t have driven here...why, exactly?” I asked once we got to the dirt road. “We’re gonna have to walk and our shoes are gonna get dirty.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “For the exact same reason you just said that. We’re going to hang out with Pogues. We don’t drive Lamborghinis, we key them.”

My jaw dropped. “Please never key my Lamborghini.”

“I make no promises,” Kie laughed and ran ahead.

“Hey-” I tucked my skateboard under my arm and sprinted after her. “What is that supposed to mean?! KIARA!!”

She ignores my question and shouts back, “We’re almost here!”

I sprint behind her, a little uncomfortable with the skateboard in my arms. I jump over tree roots and rocks and I make my way through the forest.

Eventually, we get out of there and make our way to a clearing near the marsh. I see the remains of a campfire with folded camp chairs on the ground next to it. To the right of it is a big tree with a tie hammock. Behind the house, which looked like a mix of a ranch house and a wooden cabin, was a dirty white boat with the letters ‘HMS Pogue’ painted onto it.

“Here we are!” Kiara said proudly. I nodded, swatting a mosquito away from me. Thankfully, I was wearing jeans.

“That’s a nice boat,” I noted. “The HMS Pogue. You guys really take this whole ‘Pogue-Kook’ stuff seriously, huh?”

Kie giggled as we walked towards the Chateau. “Trust me, once you’ve been here long enough, you’ll start to as well.”

I nodded, not exactly sure how I felt about that. We made our way towards the ranch house-cabin hybrid, the chirping sound of crickets filling the air. I was about to ask Kie how her relationship is going when a distinct odor started to fill the air.

“Is that-” I sniffed the air and gagged. “Is that weed?! Jeez, that’s strong.”

“Have you not smoked before?”

“Oh, I have. But I hate the smell of it.”

Kiara laughed, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the house. “Well, you might not want to say that around JJ. He’s the town’s stoner.”

I rolled my head. “Of course.”

We made our way to the house and opened the screen door and stepped inside the wrap-around porch. No one was there, but the lights on the porch were on and the window was open, so Kie opened the door and we stepped into the house.

The living room was tiny and cluttered with beer bottles and food wrappers. The wooden interior reminded me of my family’s cabin in Vermont, though, just smaller.

“Yeah uh,” Kie put the skateboard down to move some junk off the couch. “It’s not a lot, but here we are!”

I sat down on the couch and felt the fabric. “It’s fine,” I shrugged. “It’s...cozy. Definitely a homey vibe here.”

Kie exhaled and turned around, walking towards the other rooms. “I’m gonna go look for the bo- Oh, hey! Wait, Pope did you smoke weed?!”

Two boys came out from the other room, one with the goofiest grin on his face, and the second who was busy scrolling through something on his phone. The first boy had dark brown skin and curly black hair tucked safely into a baseball cap. He was wearing blue cargo shorts and a gray tee, and his eyes were red, the signature trait for being high on weed.

Pope smiled. “Perhaps.” His voice was a bit deep, and he leaned in to hug Kiara.

The second boy didn’t even look up from his phone, but I could see his red eyes too. He looked like an elf- not in the way that he was short because he was tall- he had sharp features. Pointy nose, eyes slanted like a cat. He was holding his phone with both his hands, and I could see the shiny rings on his fingers. His long, messy blonde hair swept over his piercing blue eyes and sun-kissed skin. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black muscle tee.

I recognize him instantly: JJ Maybank, the Instagram boy.

“Hey, Kie, aren’t you supposed to be at a sleepover or something?” JJ’s raspy voice asked, still not looking up from his phone. I held back a giggle, realizing neither of the boys realized I was there.

“Yeah!” Pope exclaimed, walking over to John B’s fridge. “Aren’t you supposed to be across the island, at Nikhita Reddy’s house? What are you doing here?”

“Did the Kook brat bore you out already?” JJ laughed. “She was probably going off about how oh so hot Topper is.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and turned so his back was facing me. Kiara was trying her hardest to contain her laughter.

“What?” Pope asked when he saw Kiara’s face. He pulled out a carton of milk and sniffed. “Oh, shit, I think this is expired.”

“Bro, it’s just bacteria!” JJ exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

“Do you NOT remember the last time you ate something with bacteria in it?” Pope shook his head and threw the milk away.

Kiara was in tears at this point, and JJ hadn’t even noticed. “Kie, what is wrong with you?” Pope asked. That’s when he saw me on the couch. His eyes went wide, but I put my finger to my lips in a shh motion.

“She’s probably traumatized ‘cuz she had to spend, like, the past six hours with the new ‘fun and fresh Kook princess’!” JJ said in a falsetto voice, then snorted at his own joke. “ ’Oh, I’m Nikki! I’ve been here a week and the entire island’s already obsessed with me, even though I probably don’t even know what a surfboard looks like!’ ”

“It’s real funny you say that JJ because you haven’t been able to stop talking about her since she got here.” Kie shot back, arms crossed over her chest. My eyes widen and I bit my arm to contain my laughter.

“’Cause she’s hot! Don’t mean I’m in love with her or some shit. Jeez, she’s just some Kook. Watch her and Topper start dating, though. I heard they fucked at Rafe’s party.”

“Actually-” I interjected, standing up from my place on the couch. Kiara and Pope doubled over laughing. JJ spun around when he heard my voice and I never saw a boy’s face go pale faster than his. I walked over to where they were in the kitchen. “-We didn’t sleep together. He, like, totally wanted to, though, but I told him there was no way we’d ever happen.” I smiled at the Pogues. “Hi! I’m Nikki.”

______________________________

chapter 4

#jj maybank #john b #john b x sarah #obx #obx fic #obx kiara #obx pope #jj x oc #obx jj #jj x reader #topper obx #obx fanfic #jj obx #jj fluff #jj angst

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forextradingperformance · 3 years ago

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It's anything but's an excited six-year-old who just watched his first NASCAR race with his Dad. In the wake of seeing the bright metallic machines called "race vehicles" fly at paces of 200 miles each hour around an oval molded field, the youthful person gets a thought. He ponders internally: "Self, that would be fun, I've seen father drive, we should check this thing out." He is valiant, abundant, and prepared to overcome the roads. He gets in the vehicle, fires it up, his eyes are pretty much as wide as b-balls, and to him he is thinking "I'm going to have a great time". The fact of the matter is the exact inverse. Fortunately, at that point the Dad comes and makes all the difference from what might have been a ghastly calamity. When we hear we can bring in cash exchanging Forex, our eyes get as large as balls, we are prepared to vanquish the business sectors, overcome the world, make our speedy million however, do you by any chance understand what you are doing?

What's happening with you?

Leave me alone the "Father" briefly here. Peruser, you may have to change down a couple of gears. Truly, put your vehicle in leave. Escape your vehicle, and go to class, plunk down, and learn. Get some information before you lose your cash. You may have won a couple of enormous exchanges and now think Forex is the simplest thing on the planet. WATCH OUT, you may lose the entirety of that and the sky is the limit from there in the event that you are not instructed. For a large number of us, winning has not been the situation. Father said "don't place your hand in the fire", you did in any case, and you have been scorched. Presently you know not to return your hand to the fire.

Ordinarily we fizzle since we didn't have information, we didn't have an arrangement in any case. In the event that you neglect to design, you are intending to come up short. Allow me to say that once again, IF YOU FAIL TO PLAN, YOU ARE PLANNING TO FAIL. On the off chance that you approach Forex exchanging as an easy money scam, be ready to get helpless fast, on the grounds that Forex exchanging isn't a pyramid scheme.

The details are out and say that 95% of Forex dealers are losing cash. That isn't unexpected to me due to what I clarified previously. It's anything but a shock that you have been losing cash. If it's not too much trouble, comprehend that even after you have a demonstrated arrangement, there will be months where you lose cash. This is exchanging, not a mystically cash tree. Many have been indoctrinated by Forex advertisers and their items. A portion of these are genuine, many are not. On the off chance that you see a framework that says, "You will make half each month ensured", RUN and RUN FAST. In the event that you attempt it and it works, if it's not too much trouble, advise me so I can utilize it. Odds are, it is trash.

In this way, you have understood your present status of misery. Since you understand you need assistance, we should discuss instruction.

You needn't bother with a MBA or PHD to exchange Forex. The excellence of Forex is that you can bring in cash without proper training and it very well may be a flood of pay for you and your family. I might want to recommend that there is a cycle to turning into a Forex merchant. It includes training.

You don't simply get up one morning and have a disclosure that you are a Forex merchant. No, no, no. On the off chance that my PCP revealed to me that he didn't go to class, and that he just woke up one morning and wound up in a specialists outfit, I would snicker, shout, and perhaps run for my life.

There is potential for you!

Two Key Educational Principles

1. Understanding

To exploit the business sectors, we need to comprehend the business sectors. Comprehend that day exchanging may not be for a fledgling. Comprehend that basics assume a critical part in market development. Realize that the market can pattern or reach and you can observe what heading it is at present moving.

It is in every case great to have your establishment set up. Your basic comprehension of the market is the thing that will keep you grounded during the tempests of losing and the festivals of winning. A few dealers don't see even the actual rudiments of the Forex market. In the Forex market, monetary forms are exchanging against one another, news occasions, and public financial approach influences the money esteems. These are rudiments yet how about we get them set up before we attempt to fabricate a record. Being a house without an establishment is inept.

2. Accomplishment

Since we have information, we have something to work with! How about we apply it. With 4 Trillion dollars of liquidity in the Forex market, you can certainly bring a portion of that money home. We should perceive how. First we need an arrangement.

Objectives and Plans

This is enjoyable! Objectives are wonderful! The sky is limit. We should define a few objectives to be intentional in our exchanging. Objectives like "$30,000 in 10 years to pay for my little girls school", "$5,000 this year", "25% ROI this year". You get the thought. Objectives will go about as water marks in your exchanging. "OK, I made it to this level, we should continue onward." Goals will likewise inspire you in your difficult stretches. Continue to press in to arrive at those objectives.

Objectives are extraordinary put we need an arrangement to contact them. An objective without an arrangement is a dream. Most Forex merchants are living in dream land. They see piles of hundred-dollar-notes to them yet all the while have cash dropping out of their pockets. Wake up, smell the espresso, and get an arrangement.

An exchanging plan is your blue print to progress. It is the thing that will get you from direct A toward point B. On the off chance that I live in New York and need to get to Mexico City, I better have a few bearings. That is a 2,500+ mile drive with a ton of freedoms to get lost. I need an arrangement or I'm wanting to fizzle. In the event that you have a guide, and you make an off-base turn, not no joking matter. You can take a gander at the guide, see where you are and get back on course. In the event that you have no guide, you can end up thrashing, and freezing erratically in perilous territory.

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

Text

Operation Little Cupcake (Bucky x reader)

Sequel to - The Cupcake Hostage Situation and The Cupcake Hostage Situation: Phase Two

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - Smut, Pregnancy, Swearing

“I think I might be pregnant.”

It shouldn’t have been scary, it should have been exciting. You were in a stable relationship after all. It had been over a year since Bucky had made his feelings clear, you were his girl, his and nobody else’s. It had been a year of stolen shirts and stolen kisses. You had kept the relationship a secret from the team as long as you could, not knowing that they all already knew.

That first night, when Bucky had hauled you through the corridors, Tony had sent the security footage to everyone. But the team liked to see you both sweat, sniggering everytime the two of you slipped into a closet thinking you hadn’t been noticed. Sam flirted relentlessly, even Steve got in on it.

~~~~~~~~~~One Year Ago~~~~~~~~~~

“So hows the heat in your room? It working ok?” Steve leaned on the kitchen counter to ask you, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah, you fixed it up nicely for me. Thanks Steve.” You said, biting down on a smirk.

“Funny thing is, it shouldn’t have been broken in the first place. Friday runs all that.” He said coyly.

“Huh, how about that?” You mumbled.

“You know doll, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just asked.” Steve said, winking at you.

You choked on your coffee, flustered and shocked by the sudden brazenness of The Captain.

“What?” You squeaked.

“Yeah, what?” Bucky asked, looking up from his newspaper.

“Pretty dame asks you to fix her radiator… Even I can’t miss a signal like that.” Steve told him, smiling warmly at you.

“I uhh, well, um…” You stammered.

“So, can I take you out to dinner tonight?” Steve asked you.

“No!” Bucky snarled.

“She can answer for herself Buck.”

“She doesn’t have to. I’m answering for her. No.” Bucky snapped.

“Why does she need your permission all of a sudden” Steve demanded.

“She… doesn’t. She can go, I just don’t think teammates should date, that’s all.” Bucky tried to cover.

“He’s right Steve, I mean, your already so worried about us all when we’re on a mission. I wouldn’t want to distract you.” You agreed.

“What makes you think you’re not already distracting me?” He shot back, smirking.

You hadn’t even know that Steve was capable of giving an intentionally sexy smirk, usually he was unaware of his sexiness. It was always accidental, natural, not weaponized.

“Oh god help us all.” You whispered in horror.

“So tonight?” Steve pressed.

“Hmm?” You asked distractedly.

“She’s busy tonight! She promised to help me with something, it’s a therapy thing.” Bucky said smoothly, so smoothly in fact that you found yourself wracking your brain and trying to remember what you were supposed to be helping him with.

“Well, some other time the.” Steve said disappointedly.

“Sure Cap.” You agreed without thinking.

As soon as Steve left the kitchen Bucky descended on you, pushing you against the wall.

“Why did you agree to that, you’re dating me.” He growled.

“I like having options. Why’d you ruin my chances with Captain America??” You asked indignantly.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You know, I’ve been asked out a few times over the last few weeks, and then cancelled on….” You told him.

“Is that so?” He said sarcastically.

“I know you’re the one who’d been sabotaging all my dates, what I can’t figure out is why.” You huffed.

“Because you are mine. You don’t go on dates with anyone else. Just me.” He dictated.

“Oh, are we going steady now?” You laughed.

“Damn straight.” He said firmly.

“We should probably stop hiding it from everyone then?” You suggested.

“Doll, they already know.” Bucky said, looking at you like you’d just asked him what 2 plus 2 was.

“I know, why else would Steve ask me out.” You giggled.

“So you went along with it why?” He asked lowly.

You answered with an innocent smile and batted your eyelashes at him.

“Minx.” He growled, pressing his body to yours.

He kissed you breathless, right there in the kitchen.

“Hey, we eat in here!” Sam objected from the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~Today~~~~~~~~~~

As happy and steady as you and Bucky were, you had always kind of conveniently skipped over the whole baby talk. You were Avengers, you were busy and in danger all the time. Children just didn’t fit into the whole saving the world gig.

Except Clint managed it. So why couldn’t you?

First though, you needed to know if it was true.

“Ok Miss…. Stevie Barnes?” The doctor said, raising his eyebrows at the fake name.

“That’s me.” You said coldly, daring him to question it.

“Well Miss Barnes, let’s do a quick little test, see what we’re working with here.” He said, smiling calmly at you.

You took a deep breath. You could do this. No matter what the result was, you could handle it.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t seen you all day, he’d searched the whole damn compound for you but nothing. It was unlike you to just disappear like this and he was starting to get anxious. He was minutes away from calling Steve and assembling the team when you finally walked into bedroom, ignoring him and flopping facedown on the mattress.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snapped.

“Out.”

“Out where? I was worried!” He said indignantly.

“Why? Because I was out from under your supervision for a couple of hours?” You said sarcastically.

“Yes, that’s exactly why.” He said equally as sarcastically.

“I was having an orgy at a biker bar in Hells Kitchen.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“You think that’s funny?” He snarled.

“Yes, actually I think it’s hilarious. That’s why I said it.”

“What’s wrong with you today? You’re not usually like this.” He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I… Bucky, where are we going? What are we doing?” You asked, rolling onto your back to look at him.

“Going? Did you want to go somewhere?” He frowned.

“I mean us, as a couple. This thing… is there a point to it?” You asked.

“What kind of point? Doll, we’re together. We’re happy. You make me happy, that’s the point.” He said, smiling down at you.

“I do?”

“Yes. I didn’t think I would be this happy in my life but I am. You and me, we’re perfect. I wouldn’t want to change a damn thing.�� He said seriously.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Do.. do you want to change it?” He asked, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

“No, it’s just… I was at the doctors today.” You admitted.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He demanded, suddenly on alert.

His hands were poking and prodding at you gently, like he could figure out what was wrong himself.

“Nothing, stop poking me you weirdo. I thought I was pregnant.” You said abruptly, shoving his hands away.

He froze, all the colour draining from him.

“Pregnant? He repeated.

“Thought. I was wrong.” You clarified.

“But, what, how?” He spluttered.

“Well, remember last month when we let Steve cook that weird stew and it made me sick? I threw up right after I took the pill and I dunno how these things work I sort of just trust the doctors when they say it’ll keep me baby free but I’ve been feeling run down for the last few days and I remembered that and I started thinking, what if? So I went to a doctor and he did a test and I’m not pregnant thankfully but it still freaked me out and I just kept thinking about how much you were going to freak out, even though I was the one who was freaking out and why are you looking at me like that?” You rambled, noticing the wounded look on his face.

“You thought you might be pregnant and you went to find out, without me?” He asked.

“Well… Did I mention I was freaking out?” You repeated.

“I should have been there.” He insisted.

“Hindsight is a hell of a thing Barnes. I should have maybe mentioned it, yes. But… freaking out!” You exclaimed, gesturing to yourself.

“I get it. Just, if something like this happens again, tell me?” He asked softly.

“Scouts honour.” You said.

“So… you’re not pregnant?” He confirmed.

“Well I wasn’t when I left the doctors surgery but after my day with the bikers, who knows?” You snorted.

“You’re still not funny.” He informed you.

“Well now, you’re a liar.” You pouted.

“You are however adorable.” He conceded.

“Yes, I suppose I am. Well noticed.” You said haughtily.

“You still feeling under the weather?” He asked in concern.

“No, I think I was just tired. I’m fine now.” You assured him.

“Good.” He growled lowly, a dark glint in his eye.

He made sure you paid thoroughly for your jokes about the bikers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pregnancy scare seemed to have awoken something in Bucky, something that was starting to concern you. It started with constant furtive glances at your stomach, when he thought you weren’t looking. Whenever he was stood behind you his hands would snake around your waist, folding over your stomach while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You woke up one night to find him spooning you, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your abdomen. He tried to act smooth about it, like there was nothing strange going on. When you walked into the kitchen and found him cradling a watermelon in the crook of his arm he panicked and flung it behind him, smashing it against the wall. You watched the red insides drip down the wall with a deadpan expression.

“I think you killed it…” You told him, shaking your head in exasperation and walking back out of the room.

When he started spending a strangely large amount of time in the reception, talking to Shelley the receptionist, you weren’t worried. You knew exactly why he was doing it.

“Hey Shelley, how’s baby Mark?” You called, wandering over.

Bucky looked shifty as you approached.

“Oh he’s wonderful, I was just showing Sergeant Barnes here the photo’s I took this morning. Do you want to see them?” Shelley asked brightly, proudly showing her phone to you.

You cooed over the photo’s of the little pink blob with it’s little tuft of hair and Bucky perked up, watching you curiously. His eyes narrowed and you could almost hear the gears in his head turning.

It took three more weeks before he finally made a move.

“Doll.” He whispered, shaking you awake.

“Bucky, it’s 3am… Unless we’re being invaded again, kindly go away.” You mumbled into the pillow.

“Doll, I want to have a baby.” He announced.

“No shit Sherlock.” You grumbled.

“What?”

“Bucky, I love you but you’re about as subtle as Mjolnir to the face.” You said, sitting up and switching on the bedside lamp.

“You knew?” He asked softly.

“I figured it out about the time you started asking Clint how he came up with baby names.” You said, rolling your eyes fondly at him.

“So what do you think?” He pushed.

“Well, it’s a big decision. You have to be sure about this.” You told him.

“I’m sure.” He said quickly.

“It’ll take a lot of work, a lot of planning. You need to decide who you want to have a baby with first, I mean what gal are you gonna knock up?”

“What?! You! I want to have your baby, I mean I want you to have my baby.” He protested, not noticing the shit-eating smirk on your face until after he’d spoken.

“You’re cruel.” He muttered.

“And yet you still want me to contribute 50% of my DNA to your spawn.” You said sweetly.

“I do, god doll, I really do.” He said emphatically.

“Are you sure Buck?” You asked seriously.

“Completely.”

“Ok, good!” You chirped happily, leaning down to fetch a huge binder from under the bed.

“What. The. Hell?” He asked as you dumped it on his lap.

“Well, I did some research. Everything from future home’s, to birthing methods. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do it right.” You said.

He looked amazed, gaze flicking between you and the binder.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” You whispered back.

He shoved the binder aside and pulled you onto his lap instead.

“My baby’s having a baby.” He said, his whole face shining with joy.

“Well, first you gotta put a baby in me, Sarge.” You snickered.

“Oh, I can do that…” He smirked, nuzzling into your neck and nipping at the skin with his teeth.

“But you haven’t read my research on fertilization!” You laughed.

“I’m more of a hands on learner.” He told you.

“I’m not even off the pill yet!” You shrieked as he rolled over so you were on your back, pinned underneath him.

“Lets call these practice runs then.”

A/N - I’m feeling a lil broody, and this idea fit in with the Cupcake series and fufills a few requests... So, let’s get pregnant!!!

#hattersmarvelverse #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Reader #Avengers x Reader #Bucky fic #Bucky series #Bucky x You #Captain America #Captain America X Reader #Sam Wilson x Reader

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manggojooz · 5 years ago

Text

Pick A Side (Part 10)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 2,040

genre: university!au; angst; romance; a bit a bit of thriller

warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx @honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff @annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme @igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co

comment: sooooo i wanted this series to be like max 10 parts... guess it’s not really gonna be that way xD and this is a really dialogue-heavy chapter, hope y’all don’t mind it! as always, if you like it please leave a comment or help me reblog it <3

Instincts. Gut feeling. Sixth sense. People use these terms to describe the baseless sometimes inexplicable notions that humans are capable of perceiving.

You once learnt during a photography workshop that some of the best pictures are not the ones which were taken after spending hours framing it, but are products of spontaneity. A good photographer is therefore not the one that can design his shots well, but one who has that baseless inexplicable tingly senses that can anticipate the iconic moment before it arises.

---

“Finally found the both of you”, his tonality seems to never change but they sent tingles down your sides.

“Hey Haejoong, I was just explaining to Y/N the situation...”, Jihyun perks up when she sees him in the room.

Sudden echoes of the vibration from your handphone resting on a chair next to you startles you. You pick it up to see that Taehyung was calling.

“Hey”, you answered the call.

“Where are you?”, he anxiously asked without even a ‘hello’.

“In the painting room. I'm here with Jihyun and Haejoong”, you see Jihyun’s eye flicker a little as she starts to have a hunch about who you were talking to on the phone. Haejoong on the other hand, continued to look at you with his usual gentle demeanour.

You heard some mumbling from Taehyung on the other end, it sounded like he was swearing but you couldn’t hear him clearly at all.

“What are you saying? I can’t hear you”, you quipped.

“Wait there, I’m coming over”, he commanded.

Before you could object he had already hung up.

You stammered awkwardly and looked at the two puzzled humans standing before you, “Umm Taehyung said he’s coming over... not sure why or what for but err...”

“Probably to pick you up”, Haejoong replied almost too nonchalantly before facing Jihyun and asking her, “would you rather leave or wait?” You wondered whether this was the same person you knew from a week ago.

“Let’s go”, Jihyun answered exhaustedly.

“Oh right Y/N, Hyesoo has been asking me whether we need to change our assignment group, given all that is going on right now. She said to let her know by this week. Maybe you could discuss with Taehyung and let’s come to a decision soon?”, Haejoong was suddenly reminded to ask you as he trailed behind Jihyun who wanted to leave before Taehyung reached.

“Yeah, okay”, you barely managed to squeak out a response as the nagging tingly feeling keeps growing.

---

You fiddled around with your phone until you heard footsteps stomping up to the door.

“Hey”, he panted.

“You ran here?”, you questioned.

“Yeah, evidently”, he answered.

“Why...”, you wondered, but suddenly you were reminded that perhaps you wouldn’t like the answer, “... no, don’t answer that.”

Taehyung tilts his head and his forehead lightly frowns in confusion, “Anyway, where’s Jihyun and Haejoong?”, his breath was still shallow.

Did he run here to see Jihyun?

“Jihyun left with Haejoong, I didn’t know if I should ask them to wait or...”, your words were just stumbling out of your mouth, “... I’m sorry, if I knew you wanted to catch her I would have-”

“Hey hey, I'm not here to catch her”, Taehyung’s eyes were intensely observing you now.

“Then why did you run all the way here? I thought it was because I mentioned she was with me”, your fingers pinched each other in this tiny moment of embarrassment and uncertainty. Embarrassed because you felt like you were phishing for an answer you wanted, uncertain because you still didn’t know if it would be the answer you wanted.

“No...”, Taehyung hesitated, “... it’s because you mentioned Haejoong was with you.”

Is this the answer you wanted?

“Taehyung, Haejoong and I...”, you wanted to clarify that nothing is going on, at least not anymore.

“Stay away from him”, Taehyung huffs.

“What?”, you were taken aback by his assertiveness all of a sudden.

“Im Haejoong. Something’s up with him, I don’t know what... but Yoongi hyung just told me that he has always had a crush on Jihyun and even chose to take our pure arts class just to be in the same class as her... but he never acted that way... instead it felt like...”, his eyes quivered as he looked at you.

“It felt like he liked me...”, you were shaking now. There were absolutely no signs that he liked Jihyun before.

“Y/N are you ok? You look-”, Taehyung grew concerned.

“He misled me to think that he wrote the post-its on my photos too...”, you mumbled.

Taehyung’s eyes grew wider. Things are increasingly not adding up for this guy.

“Just stay awa-”, Taehyung began.

“I’m tired Taehyung, walk with me back to the hostel?”, you truly were drained by now.

---

The journey was mostly undisturbed silence. There is a kind of connection in this world that need not be seen or heard.

As the both of you strolled up to the hostel, a female voice calls out your name, drawing both of your attention.

Turns out Helen from the student office had also just came around to look for you with a police officer in tow.

“Don’t worry, I’m just investigating into the matter. It's really cold out here at night, is it alright if we head up to your room to have a chat?”, the investigation officer requested. You agreed and as the group of you were heading up, Taehyung almost too naturally follows behind you.

“Mr. Kim, I think we are good here. Maybe you should consider heading back?”, there was a slant of insistence in her question.

Taehyung eyes you worriedly and you gave him a smile, “It’s ok, I can handle this. See you tomorrow?”

He sighed reluctantly but gives you a brief nod, “Call me if anything happens”, he nagged before turning to head off.

This was still the same caring man that you knew since day one.

---

After a round of questioning in your room, the officer was mostly satisfied. However, he stood up and headed to your window, parting the blinds to peep out into the opposite building, where Jihyun’s room was.

“Is everything alright?”, Helen asked.

“It’s just that, no matter how I look at it, it will take a really powerful camera zoom to get the kind of image in the videos. Ms. Helen, you too know that we have been to each room in this building, no matter how I see it, the angle just doesn’t seem right from any of the rooms either”, he muttered thoughtfully.

“Well, how else can someone get a photo or video from this high a height? We are eight floors above ground, officer”, Helen was seemingly annoyed that she was still stuck here at such an hour.

“What if it wasn’t taken from a building...”, the officer mumbles.

Helen was right about to scoff when you suddenly bolt up from your bed, where you had been sitting during the questioning.

“Maybe... a drone?”, you implored.

It need not be seen or heard, but the connection had been drawn. The officer’s face hardens as he demands Helen bring him all the CCTV footages surrounding the hostel area, this time not just for the entrances of the hostels.

---

“We need to talk”, you messaged Haejoong the next day after classes were done and you ended up meeting him at the rooftop where he was trying out his new Holga.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”, you sputtered, feeling rather apprehensive.

He turns around to face you while packing up his things. “What do you mean?”

“You took the photos of Jihyun and posted them online... right?”, you fought on.

“Why would I do that?”, it sounded as though he was refuting your allegation but at the same time it also sounded as though he was challenging you to find out the answer yourself.

“Exactly, why? My gut feeling says it’s you, but I just cannot logically figure out why you would do it. Especially, now that I know you actually like Jihyun, I just can’t understand what you are trying to do. Why did you get close to me, when you like her? Why-”, you ranted.

“How did you find out that I like her?”, he was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered, “Regardless... tell me honestly, did you at any point think that I liked you?”

It hurts your pride to admit it, but with the way he acted, how could you not have thought that way?

Your silence though, was enough of an answer to the mild-mannered man.

“I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you, but you had to be Taehyung’s ex-girlfriend, I had no choice”, for once there was a desperation starting to bloom in his voice.

“You had no choice but to use me?”, your words were filled with exasperation.

“I needed to show Jihyun that he doesn’t like her, that when he is forced to make a choice between you or her”, his eyes hardens and he does not complete that previous sentence, “It is obvious that his heart is still with you.”

“That is not true, you just haven’t seen the number of times Taehyung-”, you argued back.

“He doesn’t love her. If anyone’s using anyone, it’s not me, it’s him. He's using her to get over you and I cannot watch that happen to her”, he raised his voice at you just enough to show his disapproval.

Your head was quivering in disbelief, “You couldn’t watch that happen to her but you went and posted those photos and videos of her?! I just don’t get it...”

“That is not me”, he replied coldly.

“You are lying”, you insisted.

“It’s not me”, he takes another step closer to you and puts his hands into the huge side pocket of your winter coat. He pulls out your handphone revealing that it was recording your conversation this whole time.

“It’s not me”, he repeats for the third time, slowly, enunciating each word, as if making sure that the recording will pick up his words loud and clear.

He stops the recording and you demand for your phone back as sternly as you could.

“I thought we were at least friends, this is disappointing”, he blinks at you.

He unexpectedly turns his back and starts to leave. You lunge at him to grab at your phone which he was now shoving into his own pocket. The moment you grabbed his arms he hurls you backward and you stumble back onto the concrete floor.

“Like you said, if you can’t figure out the logical reason why I would do it then do you think anyone else would be able to come up with one? There is no use in just insisting that I did it, Y/N. In the end no one will believe you”, he surmised almost emotionlessly.

You collected yourself and scrambled up but Haejoong casually walks through the doorway leading to the rooftop. He spins to see you dashing towards him again and promptly shuts and locks the door from the other side, leaving you in the freezing exterior.

“IM HAEJOONG!”, you screamed. “Open the door now!”

“This is your time to make a choice Y/N. Will you take my side?”, Haejoong asks cryptically.

“Are you freaking crazy?! Let me out now!”, you whimpered as you banged against the cold hard door.

“I’m asking you one last time, will you take my side?”, there was even a coldness to his words now even though you could barely hear him through the thick barricade.

“Haejoong-ah, stop it now please. You are going down the wrong side, you still have a chance to turn around now”, you tried a different tactic, pleading to him now.

“You are wrong. If you are not on my side, all of you are wrong”, he bellows suddenly and crashes one of his fists into the door, shaking it so hard causing you to jump back. Immediately after was an eerie silence, with lingering echoes of the door being rattled.

Some people are like photographs, they exhibit an image, which they spend time developing, but their true self is captured on film as negatives, which is the exact opposite of what they portray.

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

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Another One Bites The Dust

Hello all my lovely Tumblr’s. I am back with the next part of the series of Robyn and Taron. It’s just a little one shot and follows on from where A Kind Of Magic left.

Hope you all enjoy :)

“Sometimes you meet a person and you just click--you're comfortable with them, like you've known them your whole life and you don't have to pretend to be anyone or anything.”

Two days after Taron had arrived home, with help from Lyndsey, he had made his press release from the comfort of his own sitting room in his home in Aberystwyth without his hat, all of his injuries on full show. Lyndsey had asked him to do so, showing that his slight disappearance had actually been for a reason, letting everyone see that he had actually been seriously injured. He read Robyn’s words along with his own, explaining briefly what had happened in the 7/11 and how his life had been saved by the quick thinking of Robyn, who selfishly came to his aid. He clarified that he would be fine and was under strict medical instructions to rest and take care of himself.

He also mentioned how filming for Kingman had been halted but would pick up when he had returned to full health and was able to film. Mathew had explained to Taron that the delay in filming shouldn’t push back the release date and he would make sure the film was released as planned as the end of April, meaning none of Taron’s press schedule had to be changed either and Taron had mentioned that in his statement too, as he knew it would be a question that would be hanging in the air if he didn’t address it. Taron had only filled everyone in on the necessary details of the last three weeks, not including anything about where he had been or who he had been with, keeping his secret getaway with Robyn completely undisclosed. Taron then asked for his privacy to be respected as well as Richard’s and Robyn’s and for everyone to understand that what they had experienced was still very raw and fresh for them and they were both still coming to terms with the whole ordeal.

He knew the story of the truth of what happened to him was going to be a headliner but he had not expected the newspapers to actually run with the truth and not try to twist the story too much. ‘Egerton on the edge of life’ and ‘Taron’s still standing’ were some of Robyn’s favourite’s and she had to find the articles online to actually read them as Taron refused to send her the English newspapers. The Irish equivalent of the tabloids weren’t as interested in Taron as the English ones and she wasn’t travelling into Dublin to get them from the big bookstore so had to find other ways to read the articles and stories that appeared after Taron’s statement. She was relieved to see that they were factual and used quotes directly from Taron’s own press release and of course her words too and her name was written right beside his, as the woman who had performed the CPR that saved his life.

Robyn had been incredibly proud of how Taron had handled his press statement and called him once he had made it, to reassure him that he had done the right thing and talk him off a ledge he was teetering on. She was worried about the backlash from the media for Taron’s sake as he had been almost making himself sick with the apprehension after his video was circulated but he was taking the attention really well and twenty four hours after he had made his statement, he wasn’t as stressed as she thought he was going to be about it and with constant support from his family, friends and Robyn herself, Taron was relieved with the positive outcome from the story

One paper tried to run with a version of how Robyn was stalking Taron and followed him from the set in New York to Florida, while another said she only did what she did to try and get into his pants. Robyn had calmed Taron down when he called her to vent by explaining to him that technically he did end up in her bed and his laughter filled the air as she pacified his annoyance and once the next edition of the paper was printed, those stories were long forgotten.

After meeting some reporters outside his home for the first few days, the news quickly changed to some other celebrity gossip and he had peace from hidden photographers and immoral journalists who snooped around his mams house too. Taron was delighted to hear that Robyn had very little fallout from the news too other than her family and friends wanting to know if the story that filtered across the ocean to her was true. Taron was so thankful that Robyn’s home country newspapers and magazines were not concerned with gossip and stories of the nonsense that came with his job and he felt slightly foolish for panicking so much in her bedroom three weeks ago and was so appreciative that everyone was extremely supportive of her in her work too.

Robyn had encountered two reporters at her gate who had travelled from the UK to try and track her down but she had actually stood at her gates and had a conversation with them and the story printed just confirmed Taron’s words and appeal for their privacy. Taron was furious with her at first for talking to the reporters but she had angrily shouted at him down the phone that turning them away was only going to ruin the hard work Lyndsey had already done to appease the media and it had done no harm to either of them. She was so angry with him, she had hung up the phone, Taron ringing back immediately with an apology. She accepted it but firmly told him she was a grown woman who could handle herself and if he didn’t realise that after what they had been through then he needed to get it through his thick skull very quickly. A bunch of flowers had been delivered to her work the next day with a card that read ‘I am sorry chicken’ along with a picture he had drawn of a rocket with stick man inside.

What had really helped Taron and Robyn with their luck was the fact that the video footage from what happened in the 7/11 had been leaked onto the internet four days after Taron’s statement and although it terrified Taron at first, it had only worked further in their favour as the media and fans actually got to see a first-hand real account of Taron being shot and knocked unconscious by the shelf as well as Robyn administer CPR on him. Taron hadn’t been able to watch that part of the video feed at first and it had really upset him mam when she saw it and then he had to watch it back for himself. Once the footage showed the seriousness of their situation, the media had almost backed off realising that Taron Egerton had nearly lost his life but was saved thanks to a stranger who was now a firm friend of his. It completely changed the emotional charge of the story and those journalists who had cheapened the story, wrote a more suited article about the footage, praising Robyn, Taron and Richard for their endurance and strength through it all.

The three had managed to get two quick skype calls together but with Richards work commitments in Chicago and the time difference, they had lasted only about ten minutes each. It was just enough time for them to talk over the lack of fall out from the media and ensure they weren’t frazzled by the papers and online platforms. Another promise had been made between them to meet up properly in person once they could arrange it to suit all of them. With Richard in the middle of filming, he had very little free time and it was unlikely their meeting would be before the year was out, especially with Taron going to back his own filming in the near future. Robyn was just as busy as them, her work schedule filling up fast and it only got busier for her the closer it got to the end of the year. They had to be satisfied with the few quick chats they had as a trio and were happy to have them rather than no contact at all.

Taron’s words and video had spread over social media initially like wild fire and Robyn took to twitter to inspect the damage the news has caused despite Taron’s desperate protests but with an ocean between them he couldn’t stop her. She had scrolled through many threads, posts and comments reading with delight, shock and horror at the words written. While the replies under his Instagram pictures he had posted of the rainbow cake and him posing with the stuffed dinosaur were positive and welcoming, once Taron’s name had been associated with her, a female woman, the attitude of some of the fans had changed and they tried to call Robyn out on stalking Taron, using the happenings in the 7/11 as a way to only get closer to him. However, despite the few negative comments, the majority of the fans had been supportive and grateful and even more so when the video recordings had leaked, most who had made a little fun of what had happened, quickly editing or adding a new comment to thank Robyn for what she did for him. However of course there was the one percent who had to be extremely nasty. After a while, Taron caved and skimmed through the judgements people had made about them and what had happened and had called Robyn every time to apologise each time he read one he found that was particularly upsetting for him.

“I am sorry about that comment Robyn.”

“If you say I am sorry once more Taron, I am going to catch a flight over to you and hold my hands so tight over your mouth to stop you from apologising to me, you won’t even be able to lick me.”

“I am sorry!”

“Funny and nice try.”

“So, when are you coming to visit me then?” He asked after Robyn had scolded him and he smiled when he heard her sigh. “Ok don’t cut me off. I just want to make sure you haven’t been reading every comment on Twitter and everywhere else. You really don’t need to be doing that.”

“Of course I have. I am making a list of who I am going to get you to write a strongly worded letter to.”

“Robyn!” Taron wished she was beside him so he could scowl at her.

“Taron you need to stop worrying about it all.”

“I know you are big girl and you can look after yourself but I do worry and I will worry and I always will worry about you.”

“If you think one little foul comment about me giving you the breathes being compared to kissing and used as an excuse just to kiss you, which by the way we actually have done, twice, is going to make me run away from what happened and our friendship, then your fans are going to have to come at me with something a little more imaginative.”

“Don’t even tempt them Robyn.”

She laughed and could imagine him frowning at her. “Maybe I should post the picture we took together at the piano on my Instagram.”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“But if it is a private one…”

“It will take about two minutes before it goes viral. I am just glad that footage in the 7/11 couldn’t be zoomed in.”

“They already know what I look like Taron.”

“Yeah I know.”

“And don’t get pissed off about it. I am not having this conversation again and again and again. It is what it is and it has been supportive and positive. Now what you need to do seeing as how it has been a week since the statement release and it has already completely mellowed out, is get into bed with a cup of tea and get some proper sleep.”

“My mam has been talking to you.”

“Of course she has.” Once Tina was able to compose herself after she watched the video footage, she was on the phone to the Robyn, thanking her once more for what she did for her son. “She has been telling me all about your time at home. I think I need to send cwtch to you to help you sleep.”

She could hear him smile on the other end of the phone but the tone of his voice was down. “It’s just been a bit stressful Robyn.”

“I know Taron but like I said, a week has passed and everything has calmed down. You can actually put your head down and get some sleep, some decent sleep.”

“Cosy in the duvet sleep?”

“Yeah that kind of sleep. You need to make sure you keep resting Taron.”

“I will and don’t raise that one eyebrow at me.” Taron might not have been able to her, but he knew her left eyebrow was raised in a perfect unapproving look. “I promise. Tonight, I will do my best to try and get a decent night’s sleep.”

“That’s all I can ask for Taron.”

It was Robyn who phoned him when he posted the picture two weeks later on his Instagram of the key lime pie he had made. ‘Learning new skills while I rest up’ was the caption he had written under the photo along with a love heart and chicken emoji.

“A chicken?”

“Well I had to get the nod to you in there somehow!” He laughed as he sat on his mam’s couch, with his sisters either side of him. He had wanted to bake something for his mam as even though he had insisted he stayed at his own home, she visited him every day and had made him many dinners he could freeze and re-heat. Once all the craziness of the media relaxed and he was able to catch up on much needed sleep, he wanted to repay his mam for all her kindness. Her hug had hurt him dreadfully when he got home but he didn’t dare let go and it was an extremely tearful reunion, his step-dad hugging him just as tight and Tina had been almost hounding him lovingly every day making sure he was resting, sleeping and eating. Taron brought the book Robyn had made with him over to his mam’s house and used the recipe she had wrote out for him for the key lime pie to make one in his childhood kitchen much to the amusement of his family. Tina was very interested in the book he was given as a present, and had hugged her son hard around his waist with one arm as she looked through it, laughing at the pictures of his and Robyn’s antic’s and giving him a kiss on his forehead when she got to the picture near the end where Robyn was leaning on his chest with her hand on his heart. Mari and Rosie had insisted that they sat together with him so he could talk to them about the book too and he had answered Robyn’s call as they drooled over the pictures of the rainbow cake. “My mam liked the pie by the way.”

“You do realise that if you keep posting chicken emoji’s someone is going to see a pattern of chicken emoji’s and wonder what on earth they mean.”

“They are just chicken emoji’s.”

“Who uses a bloody chicken emoji Taron?”

“I do and my mam loved how I baked a whole pie by myself.”

“Ok so let’s avoid the subject and I see my thorough instructions worked in your favour.”

“Very helpful.” He agreed. “Robyn I am going to put you on speaker. My sisters want to talk to you.” Taron’s sisters had hugged him tight when he arrived home and even though their arms squeezed his ribs painfully hard, he couldn’t ask them to let go. The arms were warm and comforting around him. They had questioned why his head had a big cut on it and both placed a kiss on his forehead to help make it better, Taron cuddling them both into him for a long time as he knelt on the doorstep of his mam’s house.

“Hey Robyn!” The girls called.

“Hello girls.”

“Robyn did Taron really make that cake in the book you gave him?” Asked Mari.

“He sure did.”

“And he really did throw flour at you.” Confirmed Rosie.

Robyn laughed. “I told you he was being a little bit naughty Rosie.” After speaking with his young siblings a few times on the phone over the past few weeks, she could easily tell their voices apart from each other now.

“We love the book you made for him.” She said. “You had a lot fun with Taron.”

“We did have a lot of fun.” Agreed Robyn.

“The girls want to know if cwtch can come and visit us.” Taron chipped in. “But I told them that he didn’t have a passport.”

“Taron teddy bears don’t need passports.” Laughed Rosie.

“Rosie cwtch is not a bear. He is a dinosaur.” Corrected her younger sister.

“Well dinosaurs don’t need passports either.” Rosie replied.

“Cwtch doesn’t really like airplanes.” Said Robyn.

“Told you.” Replied Taron as he watched the girls flick through the book to try and find the pictures of the plush Robyn had stuck in.

“Yes you did.” Robyn replied knowing Taron’s words were for her. She had wanted him to bring cwtch home with him but he had refused saying that his sisters would want him and how right he was.

“Taron you really loved cuddling him.” Said Rosie as she found the picture where Taron was asleep on Robyn’s bed with the dinosaur in his arms. “Robyn did you really let Taron sleep in your bed?” She asked.

“Should I not have?” Robyn asked back.

“No I am glad you let him. Mam said that we have to let Taron sleep just like you did. It is what the doctor says he had to do. Mari and I gave him one of our bears to cuddle but I think he just needs cwtch to help him sleep.”

“Oh, he does, does he? Rosie has Taron been sleeping in his bed?”

“In our house no. In his house sometimes. Mam has been telling him he needs to stop drinking coffee and sleep.”

“Taron…”

“Robyn, I need to go chicken. My mam is looking for me.”

“No she’s not Taron!”

“Love you!” He called and ended the phone call.

Robyn sent him a text with an angry smiley face followed by a bed, a rocket and a man and Taron’s reply of a love heart, chicken, sheep and a cloud made her grin.

A week later it was Taron who called her to first scold her from commenting on his latest Instagram picture and second to thank her once more for giving him CPR in the 7/11.

It had been over a month since he had left Robyn and he could finally feel his ribs starting to heal and movements that had once stung him and caused him to stop and groan, were much easier for him and he could sit and stand with an ease he had taken for granted before he was hurt. The bruises on his face had completely faded away and his forehead was finally looking healed and only a small thin scab was left as the wound fixed itself. His arm had repaired itself too and again only a skinny scab that he didn’t need to cover was left on his skin. It was taking every ounce of his restrain to not pick at the healing wounds. He didn’t want to be left with a significant scar compared to the small one he would have.

One of the first things he knew he wanted to do once he could move more freely was contact the British Red Cross and enquire about a CPR course that he could take part in and he did so during the first week of October. He had already spoken to his agent about it as well as Lyndsey, his parents and Robyn, who though were concerned with his willingness to throw himself into a course that taught the technique that saved his life so soon, they could see how much it meant to him and supported him with his choice and his need to follow through with his decision to do so.

When he explained who he was and why he wanted to learn such a vital skill to the lady on the phone, it only took three days for his team to work with the British Red Cross in Wales and organise for Taron to take a two day first aid course at home in Aberystwyth. He was extremely happy to share his experience on video for the Red Cross to use in their training, making sure it was ok with Robyn too before he donned the t-shirt with the Red Cross logo to explain how important CPR was and how it had saved his life. It was a campaign that he was proud to be a part of and the two days of training although had been very important for him, were extremely hard and he had to leave the room twice during the first day to compose himself before the instructor could actually show him and those taking the course, how to properly perform CPR. His hands shook and his breathing quickened as he took to his knees in front of the mannequin and he nearly didn’t do it but pushed himself and even when tears started to form in his eyes, he continued to push the compressions up and down. He was glad when the instructor let them take a break before they introduced the breathes as he needed to leave the room and get some air.

He quickly pulled out his phone and called Robyn needing his confident to sort his head out before he went back in.

“I am so proud of you Taron.”

“First off, I don’t know how you did that to me. I was working on a mannequin and my hands were shaking. Your hands were on a real person, on me and you did that. Second, Jesus Robyn, it takes so much energy. I am knackered and I have only done it a few times without the breathes. Thirdly, I can’t believe how hard you have to push down on a chest to ensure you do it properly and fourthly, could you have made it any more obvious on my Instagram that you are the Robyn who helped me? We are supposed to be avoiding social media contact.”

“Oh, how I am missed my rambling numbering things Taron.” Robyn wished she was there with him so she could give him a hug that she was sure he desperately needed. She thought he was crazy when he had called her to tell him what he was organising and only because it was so soon after he had been given CPR. She fully supported him and the campaign he wanted to be a part of and couldn’t encourage him enough for what he wated to do and learn. However, she really felt that learning the new skill would only bring unwanted memoires and pain back to him but he had been so insistent on learning it and she couldn’t talk him into waiting until the new year. “I am giving you a virtual hug now, rocketman.”

“Thank you because I need one.”

“Let go sort through those numbers for you. Firstly, I did it to you because I had to. Believe me, when you are faced with an unresponsive body in real life, it is a very different feeling than sitting in front of a mannequin. Adrenaline automatically runs through you when there is someone’s life depending on you and you do everything within your power that you can to help them. Second, yes it takes a lot of energy but again your adrenaline and instincts kick in and you will be doing lots of rounds Taron when you practise so you get used to the feel of it. I only did one on you but then it is good to understand how much energy it takes. You can tag team with someone else if they know how to do it too.”

“Yeah the instructor had said that.”

“Third, it’s a fair push down on a someone’s chest. You really have to put a lot of strength into those straight arms and thrust the compressions down.”

“And you didn’t break anything.” When speaking about his experience of receiving CPR from Robyn, the instructor was baffled by the fact that Robyn hadn’t broken any of his ribs.

“Still haven’t figured that one out yet Taron and thankful that I didn’t. It would have been a completely different story if I had of broken your ribs.”

“Something else I have to be thanking you for.” Agreed Taron. “The instructor told us to sing Baby Shark in our heads to help keep the beat so each compression is even and solid.”

Robyn laughed a little. “I actually did that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yeah I did. It’s what I was told too and it’s a great tip. Really helps you with the rhythm.”

“Everyone laughed when he said it but I think I might go back and tell them that little tip works.”

“And fourthly, you expected me not to comment on the photo you posted of the campaign? I am extremely proud of you for doing this Taron and I am going to say so.”

“You have completely offered yourself up to the world now.”

“The world already knows who I am.”

“You read the comments?” He asked as he walked up and down the car park.

“Naturally.”

“And?”

“All good Taron. You have done such a wonderful thing with this campaign.”

“Well it’s very close to my heart.”

“Nice pun.”

“Wasn’t actually a pun, Robyn.”

“You ok though? This cannot be easy for you.”

She heard him take a breath. “It has been hard. Really hard but I need to do it and I need to it now rather than later when I will chicken out or don’t have the time and I am actually enjoying it, even though it scares me shitless. We are working on the breathes next.”

“Just take your time with it Taron. Everyone understands that this is a very unusual situation for you and won’t mind how long it takes you to get comfortable. I know I am going to find my next first aid training very difficult. At least you don’t remember the CPR.”

“Ugh Robyn what a fucking mess.”

“And here we go again.” Robyn smiled as Taron used his go to phrase when things got a little hard for him and he started to get frustrated when he couldn’t figure his problem out quickly. “Not a mess Taron. Hard and emotionally horrible but needed for healing for you. Seeing the video footage from the 7/11 and watching it makes it harder for you too. Now you have seen the actual CPR, it makes it so much more real for you.”

“Even with an ocean between us you can still read my mind.”

“I told you it was my gift to you.”

Taron looked at the instructor came out and gave him a wave. “Robyn, I have got to go. We are ready to start again.”

“Just breath and take your time. Concentrate on the reasons why you would have to learn this and call me when you are done.”

“I will. Thank you Robyn.”

“Anytime.”

“Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“You know you can ask me anything.”

“Have you thought any more about coming to Elton’s charity benefit with me? And remember it wasn’t me who invited you but Elton himself and you know you can’t turn Mr Elton John down.”

“Taron…”

“I don’t want to put you under pressure but I would really love for you to come.”

“I know Taron. You have already said that to me the last four times you asked me this question over the last week.”

“You would get to wear a fancy fancy dress.”

“You said that too.”

“Please think about it. It is only two weeks away and it’s on a Saturday so you won’t have to miss work.”

“And again, you have told me this already.”

“And it was Elton who invited you, not me.”

“And yes, I know this too. I got the invite in the post.”

Robyn had been confused when the gold envelope arrived in her letter box and opened it, shocked to see that she had been invited to the auction for Elton’s AIDS foundation at his home. Taron had sworn blind that he had nothing to do with the fancy invite when she called him and that Elton had only asked for her address.

“Robyn?” He asked when he heard her go quiet on the end of the phone. He heard his name called and turned to look at the instructor and he gave him a two-minute sign with his left hand. “Hey, look, I don’t want to pressure you into it. I know it is a huge ask for you.”

“It’s only one of the most important charity events of the year being held in Elton John’s home with an array of celebrity faces. Meant to be the soirée of the year. Full of press and media.”

“It’ll be my first event since Florida.” He said quietly.

“Taron…”

“I am not guilting you into it Robyn. I promise I am not and I honestly had nothing to do with the invite. Elton wanted to invite you himself. He knows how much you mean to me and he thought it would have been a nice ‘treat’ as he called it for you.”

“You know I believe you. I just need to think about it Taron. It’s a lot and I thought we were keeping me away from the media.”

“We are and I just miss you. Today has been hard and it’s just bringing some emotions back.”

“I miss you too. I just need some more time to think about it ok and I am always here if you need to vent some emotions.”

Taron hoped Robyn hadn’t heard his sigh into the phone. “I really need to get going Robyn. They are waiting for me.”

“I don’t think you should go back to that course with your mind set the way it is.”

“I will be ok.”

“Yes you will be but you need another ten or fifteen minutes to clear your head.”

“Always looking out for me.”

“And always will be.”

“I should go.”

“Yeah I know. Please call me when you are finished ok?”

“I will.”

“I am still stupidly proud of you Taron.” She enjoyed the small laugh he gave her. “Just remember to breathe and it’s ok to stop if it gets too much for you.”

The call ended and Taron wandered slowly back towards the building where the training was taking place. He had slipped his phone into his pocket but pulled it back out when he felt it ding against his thigh. He was confused when he saw a message from Robyn and unlocked the phone, sliding the screen to open the message.

‘I will be there.’

Four little words brought the biggest grin to his face and he replied quickly with his most used emojis lately: a chicken and a heart.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #love #Friendship #Being There For Each Other #Proud #Family #Phonecalls #CPR Training #First Aid Skills #Friends for Life

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