#i apologize to any Italian speakers I did just use Google translate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

modern-day-bard · 10 months ago

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Worth The Feeling

Note: I want to apologize in advance because my singular semester of Italian in college did nothing to help write this chapter. I relied on Google translate alone. I'm sorry to any Italian speakers! I tried my best

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (26 x 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 12

For the second time in 48 hours, I wake with my head resting on Javi. Though this time there was far less panic. As soon as I press snooze on my alarm, I take a moment to inhale his scent. Even in Italy after a long flight, he still smells like him. Cedarwood, soap, male. Everything about him was so masculine, even in his gentle touches. And there were a lot of those last night.

He caressed my hair as he told me about his time in New York and we compared our favorite restaurants and coffee shops. He played with my fingers as he gave me a rather brief, for my benefit, recount of his former relationships. He kissed my forehead several times, especially when he was politely deescalating any advances I made on him. I knew he had caught the way my cheeks blushed and my breathing caught when he had unzipped his jeans to get into bed, but his face informed me that it was purely for comfort purposes. He really was sticking to this new plan of waiting until my head was clear. As if that could ever be the case with him nearby.

We agreed, through a far less heated conversation last night, that we shouldn't tell anyone at work about us. He knew, of course, that Lana had already known. Or he figured, and I confirmed it. He hadn't seemed to care, and the more we discussed it, I was the only one bringing up the fact that the age gap could have a serious impact on his career as well. The only thing he seemed to be focused on was waiting until shooting was over. That way we could say the relationship started after we worked together and no one could question my integrity.

But that didn't solve his career problem.

If I reminded him of it, he would pivot the conversation to my future as a director. What size studio I want to work for, what sort of projects I hoped to work on, etc. By the third unsuccessful attempt of bringing up his side of things, I gave up. And at that point, I was so tired that I was almost happy to relinquish my side of the conversation and give into sleep. I had fallen asleep with my head on his chest, his arm wrapped securely over my shoulder, and I had woken up just the same.

To my surprise, he didn't stir at the alarm. I know I only have a few more minutes before it goes off again, so I lift my eyes to catch a glimpse of him. His eyes are shut, his face softened by sleep. There is an innate warmth about Javi, but he feels even warmer like this. The window to our left still has its curtains open. It's still pitch black outside, and the sun won't rise for several more hours. I feel a dull ache in my chest over the fact that I won't be able to lay here exactly like this until that time. But I know if I don't move now, the alarm will sound again, and I'll wake Javi up before I have time to get ready. After how long he let me keep sleeping on the plane, I owe it to him a few more minutes of rest.

Slowly, I remove my hand from his chest, lifting my head along with it. I start to wiggle toward the edge of the bed, and let out a sharp gasp when I suddenly feel his arm tighten around me.

"Oh no you don't," he slurs the words slightly, making me giggle. His movement makes me flop back onto his chest, not exactly reluctant.

"I don't have the luxury of sleeping in, sir," I pull back a little, but he just pulls me back down.

"Sir?" He pries open one eye to peer down at me. "I like the sound of that."

I look at his lips, perfectly parted and just a little bit swollen. It physically pains me not to just climb on top of him and spend the rest of these early hours together.

"You might get to hear it some more today. I'm in charge of you and Jack, remember?"

Javi hums in reply, the arm that had been slung across me is now tracing slow circles on my back.

"We get to see the lake today," I sing in an effort to wake him up a little, and also to distract myself from his fingers.

"I would rather stay here." His hand traces down my lower back, sending tingles up my spine.

With his eyes closed again, I take the opportunity to lift myself closer, until my lips are inches from his.

"So would I," I whisper against his mouth, "But I would rather keep my job."

That got his eyes to open. Whether it was the mention of my job or the proximity of my lips to his, it didn't matter. As long as he was waking up.

I'm allowed to pull away from him now, but he gives my bottom a light smack as I get up, making me squeal. I grab another pastry off the desk and sift through my suitcase, feeling Pedro's eyes on me the entire time. I don't risk looking in his direction and I take everything in the bathroom with me. I get dressed in a hurry, opting for linen pants instead of my typical jeans. I figured I would change it up while we're in Italy, and I have no idea how hot it will be today. With the potential heat and the fact that I fell asleep with damp hair, I create a french braid down the back. After some minimal makeup that may hold up on set all day, and after my pastry is scarfed down, I exit the bathroom.

I almost bump into Javi, who was about to knock on the bathroom door.

"That was almost the second time I've hit you with a door, you know."

He shrugs, one hand slipping into his pocket. "I wouldn't have minded." His eyes are still sleepy and he assesses my outfit. The once-over should probably make me self-conscious, but it just pulls me deeper into his gaze. He places his hand on the side of my face, stroking my cheek softly before running his hand to the back of my neck.

I let out a startled laugh as he pulls on my braid, stepping close enough to me that our chests are touching.

"I'm a fan of this," he says, yanking down even further. He leans down, placing a lengthy kiss on the hollow of my throat. All I can do is try to breathe.

"Were you..." I get distracted by his hot breath on my skin, "Were you coming to tell me something?"

To my dismay, that makes him pull back so he can look me in the eyes.

"I'm going back to my room to change, just in case anyone saw me in this yesterday. It would also be smart to brush my teeth for my first day on this set." He smirks, letting go of my braid, bringing his hand back to my cheek. "Thank you for last night..." I swear his cheeks have a light dust of pink to them. "I'll be thinking of you today."

"You too," I give him a small smile. How can these words make me shy? I was the furthest thing from coy when he was tugging me back by my hair a moment ago. "I'll come get you soon, sir."

Javi's eyes spark with heat as his smile grows. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. I get the feeling that if he didn't leave in a hurry, one of us would have been too tempted to stay.

Twenty minutes later, I decide to go to Jack's room first, giving Javi more time to freshen up. Jack greets me with a mumbled, "Good morning, or evening..." as he closes his door behind him.

"Do you need a copy of today's pages, Jack?" I say as brightly as I can at 1:30 in the morning. The older man just shakes his head, following me to Javi's door. He opens it after only two knocks, looking far better than should be allowed for someone who got a maximum of four hours of sleep.

"Good morning, Javi." I say in the same tone I used for Jack.

"Morning, Ava. Morning, Jack." He smiles at each of us in turn, lingering slightly on me when he realizes that Jack is still half asleep.

"Follow me," I say, bounding down the hallway. I'm finding that it isn't that difficult to feign a bubbly disposition today. I lead them to the front of our hotel where the driver is waiting. I'm struck once more with how fresh the air is, even in the dampness of the middle of the night. There are a few bars open a few streets away, and I can hear the music and laughter from the entrance of our hotel. It feels strange to me that my day is just starting and theirs hasn't yet ended. I might wish I could join them if I wasn't seeing Lake Como today. That, and I'm decently pleased about spending more time around Javi today. Crazy how much can change in a matter of days.

We hop into the car, me in the front and the talent in the back. Javi has made a couple of attempts of light conversation with Jack, but most of his tries have been met with mumbles. Maybe Jack is getting too old for this. As we careen through the city streets, making our way toward the country, I can see Jack in the rearview mirror. His head has started to lull back, hitting the seat rest several times before he eventually gives in and stays put. I risk a glance at Javi, who meets my eyes immediately in the mirror. I smile to myself, my cheeks warming as they always do from his gaze. He smirks, breaking eye contact and focusing out the window. I follow suit.

It takes a little over an hour to reach the lake. I rest my eyes a few times, but I'm far too excited to actually sleep. I've always wanted to visit this part of Italy. I know that the majority of my time will be spent running around, as I always do, but even catching a few glimpses of the lake will be a dream come true. I scan over just a few pages for the first scene we're shooting today, and it looks like Jack and Javi's characters will be speaking at a coffee shop overlooking the view. That must be the sunrise shot that Lloyd wants, and it should give me some time to see the water.

When we arrive, it's still pitch black out. I know from the map left in my room that the set crew is camped somewhere near the cliffside of the lake, but I still can't see much when we exit the car. I check my watch and we're only a couple minutes behind which is always expected when wrangling actors. I suppress a laugh, knowing that if I had it my way I would have wrangled one in my room for the rest of the day. I open Jack's door, lightly tapping his arm to let him know we're here. Javi is thanking the driver, and already someone from hair and makeup spots him and is waving him over. He turns around and smiles at me over the top of the car.

"Thank you, Ava."

I nod and return his smile, "No problem. See you later."

He holds my gaze for another moment before turning to go to hair and makeup. I shake Jack just a little bit harder, stirring him enough to let him know he's arrived and is needed in hair and makeup as well. He mumbles a gruff, "Thanks," and stumbles his way toward an equally as tired looking hair assistant. I thank the driver, and turn to try and find Dwyane and a walkie. It takes a bit longer than I'd like it to, because even though we're now on location and it's forced everyone to shrink closer together, it's about double the amount of chaos as L.A. I hope for Lana's sake that she has a moment to drop her stuff off at the hotel before making her way over here, but I know it's unlikely. I can see a few of the lighting crew scurrying about, and I know the sound crew can't be far behind.

I eventually find Dwayne, who immediately hands me a walkie, a piece of paper, and keys to a golf cart.

"Do you speak Italian?"

I almost laugh but then I realize he's serious.

"No, I don't."

"Dammit," He runs a hand over his bald head. "Okay, try to find someone on set who speaks Italian. While you're at it, I need you to get up to this bakery and set up the prop food. Well first you'll need to go to props and get the food. It's for the first shot this morning and we're rolling in only like, two hours." His walkie buzzes to life just as he finishes speaking, effectively ending our conversation.

"You got it," I say even though he's not listening to me anymore.

It takes me longer than I want it to to find the prop department, but they're waiting with the golf cart full of fake baked goods. I take out the piece of paper from Dwayne and punch in the location on my maps app. Though I don't know what work awaits for me at the bakery, I feel pretty relieved to be zooming away from the chaos on my little cart. The further I get from our campsite, the more the lake becomes visible. It's still dark out, but the sky has a tint of blue to it now. I feel a buzz of excitement as I drive further up the cliffside. I'll probably have a good view of the water once the sun rises, so long as I don't get placed in another trailer for the day.

Finding the bakery isn't too difficult once I make it up to the top of the cliff. I forget sometimes that shooting on location means that we're going to be interacting with locals and real, functioning stores. And as I start to attempt and explain why I'm there with a cart full of fake food to a bakery employee who clearly wasn't aware that I'd be coming today, I seriously regret not taking Italian in high school.

I try to make a TV screen with my hands and pan it over our surroundings. "See? I'm with the movie people."

The man just stares at me, visibly irritated. I'm sure he has to get back to baking real items for the bakery that will actually open in a few hours. I wish I could tell him that I relate to the early hours in some capacity, but I can't even seem to explain to him why I'm here.

Another man comes out from behind the counter, meeting us in the doorway where I'm awaiting further instruction.

" La troupe cinematografica, Gio. " The older man claps the guy I was attempting to speak to— Gio apparently— on the back.

"Ahh," Gio nods, going back inside.

The older man extends his hand, and I smile apologetically and take it.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian."

"That's okay," the older man says in a thick accent, "They said they would be coming today. We roped off the side of the cafe for your crew. You can put the food there."

"Thank you!" I sigh in relief, getting back in my cart before pulling it around to the side of the building. I know I need to wait here for the props department. They'd kill me if I set things up incorrectly or out of order. It doesn't seem possible with baked goods, but stranger things have happened.

The next hour and a half is spent simply waiting for the rest of the crew to get here. Though at the time it seemed imperative that I take these props to this bakery immediately, now I'm just sitting and waiting. I don't know exactly where the phrase "hurry up and wait" comes from, but it ought to come from the film industry. Just when the sky is beginning to show the first signs of morning, more crew start to arrive at the top of the cliff. Prop people take the things off of my cart, and lighting has arrived along with a few cameramen and some of their hand-held cameras. A few stray locals on a morning walk stop and peek at our work for a little while, and I wonder if the excitement will grow once Javi and Jack arrive.

Finally, I see some of the sound team pulling in, and I smile knowing Lana must be with them. Sure enough, I see her curls and a signature colorful scarf on the back of their cart, and I spring up from mine to greet her.

"You made it in one piece! See? I told you so," She exclaims, giving me a hug.

"It wasn't without its struggles," I grumble, but I can't deny how happy I am to have her here to scold me. "How are you? Did you drop your stuff off at the hotel already?" I pull back, assessing her.

"Nope, straight from the airport to set today. I hope you weren't planning on us going out tonight because I'm beat."

"Argh, you poor thing. I'm sorry. I am all for a night in, I didn't get much sleep either."

Lana tilts her head, "Were you still nervous from the flight?"

"No, no. I'll...explain later." I know that Javi and I agreed to keep things low-key at work, and he already knows that Lana is aware of our attraction to each other. But I still feel weird telling Lana. For the second time, I want to keep this between me and him. Luckily, I don't have to elaborate because Lana is already being pulled away to work.

"We need two mats on the ground near the tables for the first shot!" Hank, the sound director, is waving in our direction, "Let's go."

Lana gives me a tired, understanding smile. "See you later, babes."

"Bye," I watch her jog toward the cafe, but am distracted quickly by the sound of several vehicles to my right.

A van arrives, and I feel a few butterflies release in my tummy when I realize it must be either the talent or the director. And to my pleasant and unpleasant surprise, it's both. Lloyd looks borderline deranged, dark circles painting his under eyes, his gray hair even spikier than usual. He tumbles out of the van, moving instantly to Hank who now stands at the front of the cafe. I can tell that Lloyd is doing his best not to shout in the presence of the locals who will surely become prospective fans, though it certainly doesn't stop him in L.A.

My heart leaps as I see Javi exit next. His hair is slicked back, and his muscles are peaking through a crisp white linen button down. Sunglasses perch on the bridge of his nose, and I feel a tingle thinking of how that nose grazed my neck last night.

Snap out of it. As far as the crew knows, a night like that would be out of the question.

I shake my head a little, looking down to organize the scripts in my hands. Or rather, to put them out of order so I can pretend to reorganize them.

A few more people step out of the van, with Jack appearing last. Or so I think, before I see a handsome head of chestnut locks follow him out. As he straightens, I feel my eyes widen. That's Blake Henley. Unlike Jack, I can place him immediately. His show on HBO took off like wildfire last year, and he's been the talk of the town recently. I really, really should have checked out that cast list that Lana sent over. I quickly flip open today's pages and skim enough to find that he is playing an Italian Interpol agent helping Javi's character. I guess this cafe scene is the introduction to this character through Jack. Maybe I would have known that before stepping on set if I hadn't spent last night the way I did. I remember Barb's words of encouragement to "live a little," and I decide to forgive myself for now.

I make my way over to Lloyd, silently offering him one of the scripts in my hands. He takes it with a barely noticeable nod in my direction. I pass them out to the few other members of the crew who got off the van with him. Javi walked to the side of the cafe to speak with Jack as soon as he exited the van, so I don't have to worry about feigning indifference while handing him pages. I turn to Blake next.

"Good morning, Mr. Henley. Do you need today's pages?"

Blake looks up from his phone, pulling down his sunglasses slightly with one hand. His bright blue eyes are inquisitive.

"Good morning," he smiles warmly, "That would be great, thanks."

"Of course," I hand him one, making a move to turn away when he speaks again.

"What is your name? You already seem to know mine."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Ava Cohen," I extend my hand to him, balancing all the scripts in one arm. "Production Assistant. If you need anything feel free to radio to me or to Dwayne. He's the Key-PA. He can usually track down one of us if you need assistance."

Blake shakes my hand, his gaze relaxed, his smile still warm. "I'll be sure to remember that."

I feel like we've been shaking hands just long enough for it to slip into uncomfortable territory.

"Great," I say. Why do I feel so awkward? Maybe I am actually starstruck this time. I don't feel it though. Blake seems nice enough, just also famous and attractive. I've been around plenty of famous and attractive men at this point. That reminder still doesn't ease the tension in my shoulders. Blake holds his smile before returning to his phone, and I make my way over to my cart again to wait out the first few runs of blocking.

- - -

I spend the next several hours sitting in that golf cart. The scene is shot and reshot. Lloyd calms down somewhat when his vision starts to come together. Jack's character introduces Javi's character to Blake, and I see this introduction about nine times before Lloyd calls cut, only to wave me over.

"Ava, I need you to talk to that guy," He's mumbling so much that it's hard to understand him. He jerks his head to the left, and I look to find Gio, the irritated waiter from before.

"What about?" I keep my voice casual, not at all hinting at how tired I feel.

"I need to move those two tables back, otherwise I can't get the wide shot."

I peer over to the side.

"The two tables with customers in them?" I whisper.

Lloyd nods as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You speak Italian, so I figured that would be best."

It takes all my remaining energy not to scoff in his face. We just had this conversation this morning.

"Lloyd, I don't speak–"

"Please just figure it out!" He waves his arms in the air, brushing past me to talk to one of our producers.

I decide it best to look for the owner who spoke some English earlier. But after scouring the inside of the small cafe, he is nowhere to be found. Gio is the only waiter I can see, and the girl at the cash register is too busy with customers. I take a deep breath, and approach Gio before he can enter the cafe again.

"Hello again," I give him a smile that he does not return. "Would it be possible to move two of these tables inside just for a few minutes? I'm sorry to inconvenience you, I know you have customers seated there."

Gio just stares blankly at me before spinning to look at the tables I gestured to.

"Move them? Maybe?" I try, my tone increasingly apologetic.

Gio shakes his head, muttering something to himself.

Then, rather loudly to me, "Cosa ti ho detto stamattina? Non capisco–"

Suddenly I feel a hand lightly graze my back. I look up to find Blake, smiling at Gio.

"Mi scusi, potremmo spostare quei due tavoli all'interno per qualche minuto?"

I'm no expert, but his Italian sounded pretty great to me. Gio seemed to understand him just fine, and the two of them negotiated back and forth for a moment before Gio walked over and spoke to the two tables of customers. And, thankfully, they moved inside.

"Thank you," I exhale to Blake, "I think I'd leave here in a body bag if I told Lloyd we couldn't move those tables."

Blake laughs a bright, musical laugh. "My pleasure. I'm guessing you lied a little bit on your resume?"

Presumptuous. "No, Lloyd just has a goldfish memory when he's under pressure. I've worked for them for a few years now."

"Ahh..." Blake gives me a once-over, not exactly subtle. Maybe he's trying to discern how old I am? How many years I could have been working for them?

"Were you hired for your Italian?" I ask, mostly to break the silence. I realize quickly that he could take it as an insult. Some actors certainly would. He was probably hired for his incredible talent, or his resemblance to the character description, or his charm, or whatever other combo he would spit back at me now.

Thankfully, he laughs again.

"No, but it's helpful."

"Ava!" Lloyd calls out to me.

"I'll leave you to it," Blake turns to go, "Feel free to radio me, if you need any more... assistance," he winks, mimicking my words from earlier. I furrow my brow. Could he be flirting with me? I've had approximately two actors in the past do this, but it becomes clear pretty quickly that they just like to make people flustered, and nothing more. I assume that either Blake is in that category, or he just naturally seems flirtatious.

I walk swiftly toward Lloyd, feeling eyes on me from my left. I glance over, catching Javi's stare only momentarily before I reach the umbrella where Lloyd is waiting. Even catching his eyes for a moment, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Beforehand, these moments were my secret alone. I could look at him as often as I wanted, and if we caught each other's eyes, I always figured it was an accident. Now that these moments are shared, the typical heat feels more like a fever being passed between us. Of course, he looks so casual that it appears tranquil. And with this sweat beading down my neck, it makes me feel as though I'm the only one affected by our contraband gaze.

I explain the situation to Lloyd, who's relief is fleeting as a few clouds move in front of the sun, destroying his concept. I try explaining that the clouds will move, but the look he shoots my direction practically incinerates my tongue. It will probably be best to lay low the rest of the day. Hours pass, more tasks are completed, a lot more waiting is done, most of which sitting on my golf cart, and eventually Lloyd calls for a wrap. The sun has already set, and we were shooting some b-roll footage of each of the characters on set today. The cafe owner, now returned from wherever he had gone, seemed quite relieved when Lloyd announced that we were finished for that location. I had to agree, otherwise I would need to work on my Italian. Or ask Blake for his help again, but I wasn't sure how sincere that offer was.

I pick up any other PA's I see on my way down to base camp before we jump in the van to take us back to our hotel. After a long day of filming, the ride back feels quick as I nod off a few times. When I walk back into my room, Lana is busy unpacking her stuff. I give her a wide-eyed expression to say how long the day has been.

"Dude, I know." Lana says, taking out her toiletry bag and plopping it on the bed in front of her. "I'm really starting to feel the fact that I've had about six hours of sleep in the past three days. Going out before the flight also wasn't the best idea."

I think back to the photo with that random guy, and back to Javi bringing it up last night...

"Yeah," is all I manage to say. Lana gives me a quick sideways glance, leading me to add, "I'm sorry your flight was delayed, you must be exhausted. First shower is all yours."

Her face brightens, "I knew there was a reason I roomed with you."

I roll my eyes, plopping down on my bed as Lana shuffles past me to get to the bathroom. I stare at the ceiling, thinking of laying here last night with my head on Javi's chest. I wonder when I'll be able to do that again. If I'll get to do that again. Last night he brought up his concerns of me wanting him just for a release, but it's more than that. Up until last night, I hadn't felt that level of peace in a very long time. Maybe it was selfish, wanting him just so I could bask in the serenity his presence gave me. But I did want him. I wanted him for the warmth of his hands on the plane, coxing me into a steady heartbeat. I wanted him for his easy-going nature, making me feel welcome, like I was always meant to be there. With him. I wanted him, yes. But I wanted to be with him, too.

Lana comes out of the bathroom, dabbing her hair with a towel. She apologizes for the time that she took in there. I must have been lost in my thoughts for longer than I realized.

"Hey," she says, dropping her towel on the chair by the desk, "I was thinking we should try to sneak off one of these days and try to do some sight-seeing. There's the cathedral, and the Scala theater. I don't know if they have any shows there but I think it's a museum and—what are these?" I hear some crinkling, and sit up on my elbows.

Shit. In my middle-of-the-night, Javi-induced haze, I had completely forgotten to clean up the provisions he had brought with him last night. Lana is now inspecting a package of crackers in one hand, and a croissant in the other.

"Oh, I went to the store yesterday when we got here. I thought we might be hungry and I didn't know if I would be able to get breakfast this morning."

"What store?" She asks, her tone bright and even as she opens the packet of crackers.

"I don't know, there were a couple little shops down the street."

"Mhm," Lana pops a cracker into her mouth, "And do all of the shops on the street have the name of our hotel on them?" She turns the packet around, showing the logo.

I gulp.

"Not down the street, I meant that I bought them at the hotel shop."

Lana nods slowly, "Weird. I was starving when I just got back. I couldn't find the hotel store. I even asked the receptionist, and she told me that they don't have one... She recommended I try room service."

I had never been a decent liar.

I could feel my palms start to sweat. She already knew I went on a pseudo-date with him. And she certainly knew that I had been upset about our time apart. Would it really be so bad if she knew now? Something about him being here, in the room...I felt that tug that I wanted to keep that part a secret. At least for now, until we figured out what we were going to do. But I also didn't want to lie to Lana, even if I could do it properly. So I settled for a half-truth.

"Okay, fine, Detective. He brought me some of his mini-bar food."

Lana's raised one of her full, arched brows. "And...when you say he, you mean Javi?"

"Yes," I half hiss. Who else would it be?

I jump, startled by the croissant Lana had been holding a moment ago hitting my shoulder.

"The last I heard, it was never going to happen between you two! What changed?" She munches on more crackers, sitting cross legged on the bed next to me. I get the feeling that this curiosity is partly due to the need for a bedtime story. I tell her about the plane, which earns several puppy-eyed, pouted-mouth stares. And in her classically good nature, she also seems genuinely relieved that I wasn't sitting alone. I tell her about him appearing with the food, and I leave it at that.

"So he shows up, gives you the food, and leaves like a delivery driver? He doesn't come in at all?" That innocent tone isn't fooling me this time.

"Yup. It was a long day, I think we both wanted some sleep."

She gives me a look as though I just suggested something incredibly foul.

"Speaking of, I need a shower, and we have another early day tomorrow," I pop up from my bed, grabbing my pajamas to head into the bathroom.

"Ava," Lana calls, and I turn with one hand on the bathroom doorway. "You are being...safe, right?" I give her an incredulous look. She hurries to finish her thought, "I don't just mean in terms of health class. I mean, he's an actor. I know it's been a long time for you and...I want to make sure he knows that this isn't just some fling for you. You know what I mean?"

"You don't think I'm capable of having an Italian fling?" I toss my hair for mock-insult.

Lana, however, is completely serious.

"No. I know you're not. It's either real for you, or it's...nothing."

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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

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Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

60 notes · View notes

heyitsani · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Hopeless Now

Keep on Truckin’ AU Part 3

Word Count: 4491

Rating: Mature-ish

Warnings: Robincest (obviously, even if they’re not siblings in this au), mentions of terrible parenting, parental death, death by overdose, drug use, foster care

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: Jason takes Dick out on their first date and gives the other man a glimpse into a part of his life few know about.

Notes: There is just so much fluff in here. But the next installment has some angst, not like HEAVY angst but it's there. Next up is Duke’s introduction to the ‘verse!

Also, I'm not a Spanish speaker but there are a few Spanish phrases in this story. If there are mistakes, let me know and I'll make the edits. Google and a Cuban friend were my sources. Grammatically, I went off what I know from my Italian knowledge. But I apologize if I got anything wrong.

Translations: mi amigo: my friend Ay amigo encontraste uno bueno: Oh friend, you found a good one tu cita: your date

You can also read this on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dull thud of his head hitting the wall of his closet was the only sound outside of Jason’s muttering under his breath that could be heard in his place currently. He liked silence, it was steadfast, and it allowed him to think clearly. Though in the time he had spent over at Dick’s the past week, he had come to find having soft music or the tv on low volume constantly in the background was nice as well.

It had all been overpowered by Dick’s constant need to talk, but Jason hadn’t minded that either.

Jason knew that because he had been an only child to a pair of parents that absolutely should not have been parents, he never got accustomed to constantly having people coming and going. But the time at Dick’s had showed him he could actually enjoy it. Only a small portion of the time had been just the two of them. If it wasn’t one of his brothers, then Dick’s friends (yes, he had managed to meet a couple more of the infamous harem) had an on-going rotation. Kory and Roy had proven to be Jason’s favorites so far. But from what Dick had said about Donna and Barbara, he was sure they would make that short list as well.

But while he had enjoyed the constant noise of Dick’s, right then he needed the silence he was used to because he was having a crisis: He had absolutely nothing to wear to the date he was taking Dick on in just a few hours.

He had done his research and asked the few friends he had been able to get away from Dick to see what the other man liked, and it had all been a resounding and firm fun. It didn’t matter where or what, just make sure it was fun and lively because the man enjoyed life. He liked to smile, laugh, and soak in the presence of people who were enjoying themselves. Jason’s past dates had all wanted expensive and to be spoiled. Dick was the son of a billionaire and that meant he already knew expensive. And while he wasn’t spoiled, he probably knew that already as well.

With the help of Roy, he had decided on a Cuban restaurant that was one of Jason’s favorites because the music was live and the food was amazing. The staff knew him well and he loved submerging himself in the culture. It was lively and fun and there was no way someone like Dick wouldn’t love it. He was just slightly bummed that he wouldn’t be able to test out Dick’s dancing skills since he was technically still healing from being shot.

And while Jason had clothes he had worn there in the past, this was different. He was taking a date there and not just any date. Dick fucking Grayson. The first guy he had been head over heels for in a long time. The last time he had felt this strongly about someone, she had broken his heart and Jason had sworn off serious relationships. Rose had done her damage. Dick had started to heal it. Without even meaning to, he had started to mend the broken part of his heart that Jason had tried to protect and build walls around. The man was something else.

Glancing over his limited “date worthy” options, Jason gave up and grabbed a deep red sweater that had always been a crowd pleaser in the past and a pair of black slacks. Casual but polished. It would have to do.

He grabbed the pair of shoes he usually wore with the pants he had picked out before leaving his closet and dropping the items on his bed. He had just over two hours to shower, shave, and primp before he was due at Dick’s. He could do this.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking, but standing in front of Dick’s door he was starting to second guess why a man like Dick would ever want to go on a date with a man like Jason. What could he possibly have to offer the older man? And Jason knew that this was stupid, that Dick was a smart man and wouldn’t agree to a date or even openly say he wanted to date Jason if there wasn’t something he liked about the younger man. But the panic was still there.

“There’s a security panel in his living room,” a laughing voice came from behind Jason, causing him to turn quickly to see Dick’s brother, Tim, standing there. “You know he probably knows you’ve been standing here for like five minutes freaking out, right?”

“What? I’m not…” Tim raised an eyebrow and Jason let his shoulders slump. “I’m totally freaking out and I have no idea why. What are you doing here?”

Tim held up a bag that looked like it had containers of food in it. “Alf can’t make it the normal day this week so he made the meals at the manor and asked me to drop them off. I thought you two would already be gone.”

“I’m still early.”

“I don’t care. All I want to know is if you want to come in with me now or wait to actually knock and have him open the door?”

Jason considered his options and shrugged. “Now, I guess.” Tim nodded and slipped his key into the lock, pushing the door open and heading inside. “Not like he doesn’t already know, right?” Tim laughed and headed further into the penthouse.

“Dick?! I found a dude dressed for a good time in front of your door and let him in!” Jason felt his cheeks warm at that comment but just took a deep breath and followed the path Tim took.

“What?” Dick’s muffled voice came from the direction of his bedroom before Jason watched him come out wearing a pair of dangerously low slung dark gray pants and his dark blue button up unbuttoned, exposing a tempting amount of skin. Well tempting if it hadn’t been partially marred by an angry looking healing patch of skin from his injury. “Jay! I’ll be ready in like two minutes!” Jason shrugged as he watched Dick rush over to give Tim a hug before pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheek with a whispered you look amazing and rushing back into his bedroom.

“Maybe he hadn’t noticed,” Tim commented as he opened the freezer and started moving things around to fit the containers of food he had brought. “By the way, Damian ran a background check on you and is impressed at your culinary school accomplishments.” Jason sputtered at that and looked at Tim with wide eyes, but the college student wasn’t paying him any attention.

“How..? Is this a weird Wayne thing that Roy warned me about?”

“Yup.”

“What did Roy warn you about?” Jason turned his head to look at Dick who was now completely done up and moving to the couch to pull on his socks and shoes.

“Weird Wayne things,” Tim called out, head buried in the freezer still.

“Oh yeah. Did Dames do something? Or was it Bruce this time?”

“Demon brat.”

“Don’t call him that. What did Dami do and do I need to talk to him about it?” When Tim didn’t answer, Dick glanced over at Jason to see if he knew.

“Background check. Apparently, my culinary school accomplishments are reason to be proud.” Dick looked like he was considering the actions before shrugging and going back to his shoes. “Have you done a background check on me?”

“Nah,” Dick said, standing and smoothing down his pants before moving over to where Jason was still standing and smiled up at him. “Bruce did it long before I even considered it. All I had to do was mention you one time at Family Dinner and he knew.” Knew? Dick must have seen the question in his eyes because he laughed and pressed a hand over Jason’s heart. The motion did not send a wave of warmth through his chest. Nope. “He knew I wanted to know more about you. That I would want you to know more about me.”

“That predictable?” Jason teased, raising his hand to cover Dick’s.

“Maybe. Or maybe he could tell it was different this time.”

“Jeeze, now I get what Damian was complaining about. You’re disgusting.” Jason looked over to see Tim giving them a look that spoke of bad smells or unpleasant flavors. “Aren’t you guys going on a date?” Dick huffed out a laugh and Jason dropped his hand from Dick’s so the other man could move away and gather whatever else he needed. Which was a wallet from the kitchen island and a cell from the docking station near the couch.

“All right, I’m good to go.” Dick told Jason as he double checked everything. “You’ll lock up and set alarms before you leave, Timmy?”

“I might hang out for a bit, if that’s cool? B has Selina over today and Damian is on high alert.”

“You got it. Guest room is yours if you want it.”

“But…”

Even Jason knew what that but was about and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the implication.

“What kind of harlot do you take me for, Tim? Not on the first date!” He was joking, though. With Dick? He totally would fall into his bed on the first date. If he hadn’t been shot a few weeks ago.

“Uh huh,” came the unimpressed reply. “Have fun you two. Bring back ice cream if you can.”

Dick called out his goodbye and grabbed Jason’s hand, tugging him toward the door before Jason could say much more than a goodbye as well.

“Who is Selina?” Jason asked curiously as they headed for the elevator.

“Bruce’s on-again/off-again girlfriend. They’re obviously on at the moment.” That was all Dick offered as they stepped onto the elevator and he hit the bottom for the lobby. “So, where are we going? Roy hinted that he knew but you have been so hush hush on it.”

“That’s only because it took me a while to figure out where to take someone who has probably experienced every date worthy spot in this city.”

Dick pressed a hand to his own chest and tried to look offended. “Are you calling me a serial dater?”

“Nah, but Wally did suggest that you had made the rounds in your circle of friends…” Jason teased, smirking.

“Hogwash,” Dick waved his hand. “I’ve never dated Kal or Donna.”

“Only those two?”

“Eh, it’s hard to keep track of who I actually dated and who I’ve just ‘had fun’ with.” Jason knew Dick was joking, thanks to Wally actually clearing up the fact that Dick had really only dated and/or slept with a small portion of their friend group and he had been joking. But the idea of Dick being so flippant about something Jason had been so serious about in his own life was a change.

“Your dating history aside, I actually just meant that I know Bruce Wayne likes to spend his money on Gothamite businesses. So, I assumed that included restaurants.”

“That’s absolutely true. But there are plenty of places I have never been.”

“And I found one, according to Roy. One that I frequent actually.” Dick raised a brow in question, the ding of the elevator reaching the lobby filling the small space. Gesturing for Dick to go first, Jason followed him toward the front door where the valet had allowed him to park his motorcycle earlier.

“I assume it’ll be good food then. A man with your talent wouldn’t accept anything less.” Jason simply nodded and thanked the man holding his keys out for him. “Are you going to tell me?” Jason just shook his head and smiled, handing Dick a helmet he had brought along before grabbing his own. Dick simply rolled his eyes and tugged the helmet on.

The ride to the restaurant was short, no more than ten minutes, but Jason was man enough to admit that he wished it were longer just for the fact that Dick would keep his arms wrapped around his waist. But since he couldn’t actually just drive randomly around the city, he settled for grabbing Dick’s hand to hold while they walked up to Havana, the music already easily heard from outside the building.

“Here?” Dick question, flicking the thumb of his free hand toward the double doors of the restaurant Jason had chosen. Jason nodded and watched Dick turn back to take in the choice. The smile that spread across his face was enough for Jason to know he had made the right choice. “I have heard about it but you’re right, I’ve never been.”

“Well, allow me to introduce you to one of the best restaurants in Gotham,” Jason told him as he tugged open one of the doors and let Dick walk in before him. The warmth of the room hit them immediately and Jason took a deep breath, letting the spices fill his senses before he smiled at Sofia, the owners daughter who happened to be the hostess for the night. “Sofia,” he greeted, smiling softly at the teenager.

“Jason, hi!” The girl smiled brightly before looking at Dick and Jason could tell the moment she recognized exactly who he was. “Oh wow.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle, but Dick had his attention turned elsewhere so he nudged his date.

“Oh, sorry. This place is amazing,” Dick commented, looking toward Jason before turning to look at the girl who was so obviously fangirling.

“This is Sofia, she’s the owner’s daughter,” Jason supplied, and Dick turn his charming smile onto the girl. “We’ll take a table for two, Sof.” The girl nodded, but her eyes remained wide and on Dick. Not that Jason could blame her. Richard Grayson was a beloved celebrity of Gotham. Bruce had his own following, but Dick was considered the sweetheart of the city. He charmed everyone who came into contact with him.

“This way,” the girl said, trying to maintain some sort of professional appeal as she led them to Jason’s favorite spot and set their menus down before they took their seats. “Jorge will be over in a minute. Do you want the usual drink?” Being a regular meant the staff knew Jason’s favorites but they didn’t know Dick’s.

“I’ll wait for Jorge,” he told her, and she nodded with a smile, glancing one last time to Dick who flashed her another bright smile, before she rushed off. “You have a fan.”

Dick snorted and picked up the menu. “I tend to have them everywhere. She was sweet though.” And Jason just couldn’t get over that. How could someone be so used to that sort of attention? “So tell me, Mr. Todd, what is your usual?”

“They make a fantastic daiquiri,” Jason shrugged, unapologetic from the seemingly “feminine” cocktail.

“That we do!” Jason looked over to find the familiar waiter standing by their table, smiling at the two of them. Though, Jason could see the question in his eye when his gaze landed on Dick and moved back to Jason. “Shall I have two whipped up? It’s mango season and we just had a fresh batch delivered.”

“Oh yes, that sound like heaven.” Dick’s reply surprised him, but it probably shouldn’t have. So, he simply nodded his agreement.

“And the usual chips and dip, mi amigo?” Jason nodded and Jorge headed off to the bar to take care of the starters.

“You know, I should be upset you brought me to a place made for dancing when I’m under strict orders to avoid it,” Dick drew his attention. Jason leaned his elbows on the table and smiled at Dick, shrugging a shoulder.

“When you’re given the all clear, I’m more than happy to bring you back just to get you on that dance floor.”

“I’ll be holding you to that,” Dick smiled, leaning onto the table as well. And there was no doubt in Jason’s mind that he would do just that. “So you come here enough that you have regular orders and the waiter calls you his friend.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder. “Jorge calls everyone friend.” Dick raised an eyebrow and Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay fine, yes. I come here at least once a week. Most of the time I carry out, but a couple times a month I eat in. A lot of them also order from my truck.”

And Jason had really liked that they respected him as a customer enough to try and support him as well. It was a true brotherhood of sorts. And a lot of Gotham had that same vibe. You look after me, so I look after you.

Jason kept his eyes on Dick and observed him taking in everything around them. It was so strange to see someone who wanted to take it all in. In the past, his dates had always been more focused on the moment between them. But this sort of air between them spoke of comfort and not feeling like they had to impress each other. They had already done that. Jason was already gone and he could tell in the small touches and the smiles that Dick was right there with him.

So instead of focusing on Jason, Dick’s eyes scanned the room. Jason watched his head bob to the upbeat music coming from the stage. He saw the longing as sapphire eyes drifted over the couples dancing, pausing at a mother/son pair that caused what looked like pain to spill into his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as Dick moved his eyes over to the bar area where there were rowdy customers enjoying a sporting event while drinking.

“This place is magical,” Dick said, finally turning his eyes back to Jason. The smile on his face was comfortable and relaxed. He looked no different than when they were on the couch eating a meal Jason had prepared. And Jason couldn’t help but feel the same.

The moment was broken by the return of Jorge with their drinks and the chips. He gave a warning to Dick about the spice levels of the salsas he had put down but Dick simply waved a hand at that and went right for the hottest. And since Jason had already made his spicy chili for the man and had watched him not bat an eyelash, he just watched Jorge’s eyes widen as Dick showed no signs of trauma as he went in for another.

“Ay amigo encontraste uno bueno,” Jorge clapped Jason on the shoulder with a bright laugh and Dick smirked. Jorge probably had no idea Dick could understand. “Do you know what you’d like?”

Jason looked over at Dick and raised an eyebrow to see if he knew what he would like. Dick held up a finger and opened the menu quickly to scan it as he chewed before swallowing. “Oh, you do have it! Rabo encendido, por favor,” Dick said, accent perfectly on point and Jason tried not to take too much pleasure out of Jorge’s surprise.

“Si, best there is amigo.” Jorge looked over at Jason who simply nodded as he grabbed Dick’s menu and handed both his and Dick’s over to Jorge. “Alejandra is in the back, I’ll let her know you’re here. She’ll want to meet tu cita.” Dick’s laughter as Jorge walked away was worth the flush he could feel on his face at the teasing.

“Hey,” Dick pulled his attention away from him watching Jorge head to the kitchen. He found Dick with his drink raised for a cheers and a cheeky smile on his face. “To us? It only took us forever to get to this point, but I’m glad we’re here.”

Jason grabbed his glass and clinked it with Dick’s, his smile going soft and that warm feeling in his chest returning. “Yeah, to you not dying and me not thinking you just ditched me.” Dick snorted into his cup and Jason wanted to pinch himself because how could that action be just as endearing as the moment they had earlier with Dick’s hand pressed over his heart and his own hand covering Dick’s? He was a goner. There was no hope for him in that moment. None at all.

The ease the date started with continued on through the meals and Jason found himself enjoying a more lively side of Dick as he fed off the environment of the room. The cheerful banter he exchanged with the owner of the restaurant and Jorge left Jason even more glad he had decided on a place that meant something to him personally. Yes, there were other restaurants in the city that he was considered a regular at, but not like this. Not since Alejandra had known the woman who had raised him. How he had stayed at the Rivera house after she had died. But Dick didn’t know any of that. He didn’t know how much this place meant to him and the impact it had on his career choice because Jason had never told him. Instead he watched Dick form his own opinion on the people he cared about and let him charm them without any influence.

“You know,” Dick’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, drawing ocean blue eyes to sapphire. “You haven’t told me how you came to be a regular here.” His eyes were bright, cheeks splashed with red from the alcohol consumption, and his smile loose. A smile always so freely given.

“I’ve known Alejandra since I was young. She helped me when I had no one else.” He watched Dick tilt his head to the side, prompting him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Jason let it out slowly and steeled himself for sharing this. “She was my mother’s friend, the only one that I know of outside of her drug addicted friends.” Swirling the melted frozen drink in his glass, he let his eyes slip just past Dick’s shoulder. “When my dad just stopped coming home, I spent a lot of time with Alejandra because my mother wasn’t exactly a good parent. And when Catherine died of an OD, Alejandra took me in.”

The hand that appeared over the one still swirling his drink around caught Jason off guard and he looked back to Dick. “You don’t have to do this here. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” And it struck him again, with those words, that he really had no idea how he had managed to score a guy like Dick. His date who just wanted to know more about the past that Jason kept under lock and key.

“I want to tell you.” Which was absolutely the truth. Jason wanted to let Dick into every corner of his life, let him fill in the empty spaces of his heart. “But maybe not here.” He watched Dick nod in understanding and Jason felt his shoulders relax a little. He hadn’t even noticed that he had tensed up, but obviously Dick had.

“Let’s square up here and then head back toward my place. There’s a gelato place a block away that Timmy likes the best, we can take a walk. Looks like a nice night.”

Jason sighed and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” With a glance over his shoulder, Jason coughed Jorge’s attention and the man gave a nod before getting to work on closing their tab. Jason pushed to his feet and looked at Dick who’s brow had furrowed in an adorably confused expression. “They have my card on file. And Jorge knows to add 25% each time.”

“I was thinking we could split the bill, though…” Jason laughed at that idea. The glare Dick sent him was just as cute as the confusion and Jason just held out his hand to help Dick out of his own chair. “Fine, but I get to pay for the gelato.”

“Sure thing, Handsome. Sure thing.”

Dick gracefully got to his feet and brushed off phantom crumbs while keeping hold of Jason’s hand. Jason watched him in amusement before letting the older man lead him toward the exit.

“Bye Jay! Bye Dick,” Sofia called out from her post near the door. Jason paused to kiss the girl’s cheek and Dick gave her his blinding smile and a wave before the pair slipped back out into the cooling Gotham night air.

The pair were silent as they made their way back to Jason’s motorcycle and then back to Dick’s apartment building. It wasn’t until they were close to the gelato shop that Dick paused and turned to face Jason.

“Before we’re back in a crowd of people or with Timmy, I just wanted to say thank you. Not just for the amazing night, but for letting me into that piece of your life. I don’t ask about your past because I can tell it’s private. And if you want to tell me one day, then I’ll be happy to listen,” he spoke softly and Jason just remained silent, letting him say his piece. “But don’t think you ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to talk about. There are things that will take me a while to talk about and I know you’ll respect that. I just want to make sure you know that I’ll do the same.”

Waiting a moment to be sure that Dick was done, Jason took a step closer and placed the hand not still being held by Dick’s onto the older man’s cheek. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I’m really fucking glad I did it.” He cut Dick’s responding laugh off with his mouth, pressing their lips together in a way not too dissimilar to the kiss they had shared in the hospital not too long ago.

The feeling of Dick’s hand slipping around his hip to clench at his sweater on back told him that he had made the right move. The press of their bodies together coupled with the hum of approval from Dick was all the encouragement Jason needed to slip his hand from Dick’s cheek to his hair to angle the other man’s head just so.

When Jason finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Dick chasing his lips. “Let’s get that ice cream and head back to give your brother some.”

“If you’re interested, we can put in a movie?” It was the first time Dick had sounded a bit hesitant with him since they had decided to give a relationship a try and it made Jason’s heart clench a little.

“That sounds perfect.” Dick’s responding smile had Jason leaning forward for one more kiss before they walked the rest of the way to the gelato shop.

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